Wanda

probably reading in my mind palace, in a galaxy far, far away ~*~ born in the very late 1900s (21+ only please; >21 or ageless blogs will be blocked)

[witchywithwhiskey]

on the clock

pairings: werewolf!CEO!Bucky Barnes x human!assistant!female reader

summary: feeling unfulfilled by your job, you sign up to become a member of the Pleasure Portal network, which allows you to have sex with monsters around the world for money. then, when you connect with an anonymous monster on a boring summer day at the office, it leads to an afternoon delight—and something more.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, unspecified age gap, monsterfucking and teratophilia, werewolf/human sex, knotting, sex work/reader becomes a sex worker, portal sex, piv sex, very rough sex, unprotected sex, anonymous sex, multiple creampies, come inflation, cockwarming, orgasm control/delay, multiple orgasms, big cock, size kink, free use, some objectification, dirty talk, sexting, praise kink, light verbal degradation, bdsm undertones, sir kink, pet names (sweetling, sweet girl), aftercare, feelings

word count: 10.2k

a/n: for week 12 of @buckybarnesevents's Hot Bucky Summer event, i had a pretty good idea of the premise for this fic (and it's based loosely on this post) but i had y'all vote to help decide some of the specifics, like Bucky being a werewolf. since the other two options were so close, i worked them both in 🤭 this ended up being way longer than i expected, but i'm really excited about this particular magical universe, and i hope y'all love it as much as i do!! please enjoy some werewolf CEO Bucky!!! ♡

prompt: "You can’t be real." | [Fantasy Character | Monsterfucking | Dreaming/Daydreaming]

Hot Bucky Summer 2025 masterlist

You didn’t need the money. Not really. 

All your bills were easily covered by your job. You worked 60 hours a week as the senior executive assistant to Bucky Barnes, who, in his early 40s, was the first werewolf to ever become CEO of a Fortune 500 company. 

The role paid well enough that you’d been able to buy your dream apartment in Park Slope, Brooklyn, and still have money leftover for savings and fun things like vacations and going out to brunch. 

So you really didn’t need any extra money from a side hustle, because your career was plenty lucrative. But, frankly, your job as Bucky Barnes’ senior EA was boring.

Over the course of your career, you’d worked hard to rise up the ranks of assistants, taking on new roles at different companies until you’d made it to the top of the ladder. But you found yourself in the odd position of having nowhere else to go, and little to do. 

As Mr. Barnes’ senior EA, your job was to oversee the rest of the CEO’s assistants. At any given time, he had half a dozen, all of whom managed his schedule, fetched his dry-cleaning, and did everything else the busy werewolf didn’t have time to do.

However, after the brief transition period when you first stepped into your role and made some changes so that the fleet of assistants ran more efficiently, and everything was delegated to the others, there was little left for you to do.

All that was expected of you was to sit at your desk in the sparsely decorated antechamber outside Mr. Barnes’ office, with its towering, thick wooden doors that were often closed, leaving you entirely alone. Occasionally, you’d have to greet any visitors who’d arrive for an in-person meeting, but that was rare.

Most days, no one came to Mr. Barnes’ office, since the werewolf preferred virtual meetings and phone calls to in-person sit-downs. So you spent long, arduous days alone at your desk while your boss worked and the fleet of assistants scurried around doing his bidding, which was relayed through you.

It left you with a lot of free time—free time that you spent trying to keep busy, and trying not to daydream about your handsome werewolf boss. 

It had been against your better judgement that your foolish heart had caught feelings for Bucky Barnes, but it turned out you had a soft spot for werewolves with icy blue eyes, sharp canine teeth, and expensive suits. It didn’t help that he had a dry sense of humor and a brusque, no-nonsense way of conducting business that you respected.

Still, you maintained a professional demeanor at work, not allowing your feelings for your boss to show when you greeted him in the morning or spoke to him about his schedule. But if you were honest with yourself, your little crush on the werewolf was the reason you didn’t look for another job.

You’d fallen into a routine of monotony, broken up only by the brief, thrilling moments when you interacted with Bucky Barnes. You didn’t even realize you were looking for something to escape the vicious circle your life had become until it was right in front of your face.

It was on one particularly dreary afternoon when you took the first step down a path that would change everything. 

Cold rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the antechamber outside Mr. Barnes’ office, obscuring the view of New York City’s Central Park that lay at the feet of the company’s high-rise in Manhattan. You felt like a princess trapped in a tower, held above and apart from the rest of the world, bitterly alone. 

To remind yourself that you weren’t the last person in the world, living among the gray clouds, you found yourself scrolling through your social media feed, eagerly watching the little windows into other peoples’ lives. 

It was then that you came across a video from a woman who made her living as a “spicy accountant.” Unlike some of the others you’d seen on the app, though, she made her money through something called Pleasure Portal. 

You watched in rapt attention as the woman in the video explained what it was—a network created by the company’s warlock CEO using proprietary portal technology that connected those with willing holes with clients willing to pay to use those holes, even if they were entire continents apart. 

According to the woman, all transactions were completely anonymous and conducted through the app, though there were options for leaving tips and favorable reviews. To ensure everyone’s safety, there was an application process that included health and background checks verified by the Pleasure Portal company. 

And the best part, at least to you, was that it was open to everyone—human and monsters alike.

That had been the most enticing selling point for you, because even if you didn’t need the money, Pleasure Portal offered a safe and anonymous way for you to explore what it would be like to be with a monster, something you’d only ever fantasized about before.

Although you’d developed a crush on him, Bucky Barnes wasn’t the first monster you’d daydreamed about. 

Over the years, you’d wondered endlessly about what it would feel like to be split open by a minotaur, to be put under a lust spell by a warlock, to be tied so intimately by a werewolf’s knot…

You’d been breathless with excitement as you applied to be part of the Pleasure Portal network right then, on that dreary afternoon. You kept oscillating between feeling like it was a dream, too good to be true, and giddy excitement as you filed your paperwork, and gave proof that you tested negative for STIs and were on birth control.

It took surprisingly little time to be approved, the app on your phone unlocking your profile while you were sent the portal device.

As soon as you got the notification that the package had been delivered, in the middle of the afternoon on a hot, summer day, you left your desk, giving Mr. Barnes a ridiculous excuse about needing to go home early to feed your neighbor’s cat. 

Once at you made it back to your apartment in Park Slope, you tore into the box with as much care as you could muster, your eyes widening and lips parting with wonder when you finally got your hands on the portal device.

It was as small as a matchbook and, according to the instructions, should be affixed to your skin above, below or beside the hole you wished to connect to the network. The magic in the device could then be activated only from your app, which required face ID, and it could be shut off using the app or by voicing the safe word you registered with the service.

The app was how you connected with potential Pleasure Patrons, filling out your profile with interests and limits, and setting yourself as available whenever you were open to clients. Anyone looking to use your services as a Pleasure Pocket could send a request, and you had the option to approve or deny based on their profile, which revealed their first name, age and species, and how much money they were offering. 

Although you were almost too excited to read through all the instructions on the portal device and fill out your profile, you forced yourself to pay attention and get through it as quickly and methodically as possible so you could finally get started.

It wasn’t long before you were attaching the device to your mound, just above your pussy, and setting yourself as available on the app. Your profile specified that you were particularly open to monsters—and you were delighted to discover they were all too eager to use your services.

From that night on, you became an active Pleasure Pocket on the Pleasure Portal network. 

At first, you consigned yourself to only using it when you were at home, letting monsters from all over the world rail you while you made dinner or took a shower or lay on your couch watching TV. But work was so boring, and you really didn’t have much to do, so what was the harm in wearing it to the office?

It was breathlessly thrilling to wear the Pleasure Portal device at your desk, alone in the antechamber outside Mr. Barnes’ office, feeling all manner of monster cock fill you while you were on the clock. It got to a point where even if you weren’t stuffed full of cock, you were daydreaming about it. Your idle thoughts constantly wandered back to your favorite Patrons.

The day everything truly changed, was a day like any other.

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon in New York City, the golden summer sun glinting off buildings and giving you a perfect view of Central Park with all its gorgeous green foliage. And it was another boring day at your desk, with nothing for you to do since the assistants were self-sufficient and Bucky was busy behind his closed office doors. 

At that point, you’d been part of the Pleasure Portal network for a few months, and your mind kept straying back to one of your recent clients, a minotaur that had used you the previous week. 

Your fingers toyed idly with the buttons of your silk blouse, which was tucked into a tight black pencil skirt. You bit your lip as you remembered the feeling of the minotaur’s impressive length filling you up for hours one morning, his stamina lasting for what seemed like an eon.

He’d used you for so long, and fucked you so relentlessly, you’d nearly passed out at your desk. It had been glorious.

Once he was done with you, the minotaur had left you a generous tip “for monopolizing your morning,” as well as a favorable review: “5/5 stars, tightest pussy I’ve had in a long time. Would fuck again.”

It was the last part of his review that still stuck with you a week later, and had you daydreaming that he would, in fact, fuck you again. You didn’t often accept repeat clients, but for the minotaur, you’d make an exception. He’d pleasured you well enough that you could see yourself enjoying another session with him.

Unbidden, your thoughts veered sharply away from your minotaur client. Instead, icy blue eyes, sharp canine teeth, and a broad chest clad in an expensive suit flashed through your mind. You tried desperately to halt your thoughts before they could venture further down that path, but your imagination couldn’t be stopped.

Your fantasy shifted, and before you could rein in your mind, you were thinking about being stretched open on a thick werewolf cock while you sat in your boss’s lap. The base of his length, where his knot would inflate, would nudge against your clit and remind you that once he came, you’d be unable to separate. 

Your bodies would be tied together in such an intimate way that couldn’t be ignored. You’d be connected in the most primal, physical way possible…

With a sigh, you blinked the tantalizing image from your mind and returned your focus to the gorgeous sight of the summer sun shining brightly down on New York City, glinting off the water of the lake in Central Park and shimmering off the windows of the other skyscrapers in midtown Manhattan. 

You willed your heart to slow and your breathing to even out in an effort to temper the heat that had begun building in your core. When your fantasy had shifted to Bucky, your slit had flooded with desire, and you could feel the sticky evidence in your panties when you crossed one leg over the other. 

Truthfully, you’d hoped that joining the Pleasure Portal network would distract you from your crush on your boss, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Letting all manner of monsters use your hole was fun, but it was all anonymous, and it lacked the true connection you thought you could only find in real life. 

And, to be perfectly honest, you weren’t interested in finding a true connection with anyone other than Bucky. Even the minotaur from the previous week paled in comparison to your boss. Though he’d been a good lover and had tipped well, you didn’t want anything more from him than a few more orgasms. 

You were, unfortunately, still hung up on the older werewolf CEO with the icy blue eyes that sent shivers down your spine and the devastatingly handsome face. You wanted the monster who sat in his office just a few dozen feet away from your desk, but might as well have been a whole world away with the thick wooden doors and his inability to see you as anything more than his EA.

A soft chime from your phone pulled you from that train of thought and you picked up the device. A small smile stole across your face when you saw a Pleasure Portal notification: A new Patron was requesting a session!

Eager for something to distract you from your thoughts of Bucky Barnes, you quickly opened up the app and scanned the request.

James, 42, werewolf, was asking for an immediate session, and he was willing to pay an exorbitant amount of money—so much that even your eyes widened at the number of zeros. It was more than you made in an entire week as a senior EA, and all for a few hours of being this monster’s Pleasure Pocket. 

Still, you couldn’t lie and tell yourself the money was really what swayed you. It was this potential client’s profile, particularly the part where he noted he was a werewolf. 

After daydreaming about Bucky, you were feeling more than a little needy. And even though fucking this werewolf named James wouldn’t be the same as finally getting the attention you desired from your boss, you couldn’t deny yourself. You wanted a knot, and if you couldn’t have the one you really wanted, you’d take anything you could get.

So, without any more thought, you hit the button on the app that accepted James’s offer.

As soon as the Pleasure Portal app registered your acceptance, you felt the device hum to life on the mound of your pussy. Delightful tingles erupted in a circle around your hole, the magical current of the portal coming to life and teasing your skin.

You gave a little shiver of anticipation as you leaned back in your expensive, ergonomic desk chair. You closed your eyes, and waited for James to begin using his side of the open portal, arousal already gathering between your thighs as you thought about being used by the anonymous Patron.

Less than a minute later, you felt the pointed tip of the werewolf’s cock nudging carefully against your entrance. The first feel of him made your breath catch in your throat.

James felt big, even just the tip of him spreading your lower lips as he pushed against your entrance. He seemed to be taking it slow, testing out your readiness, being careful not to hurt you with one rough thrust.

When you realized how big he was and the care he was taking with you, your pussy flooded with arousal. It was enough to make your hole slick and ready for his massive cock.

It occurred to you that James might be the biggest monster you’d ever taken, and you were eager to find out if you were right about that. In your chest, your heart raced, but the rest of you remained still as you waited with a breathless excitement for James to feed you more of his cock.

Your prediction was confirmed a moment later when James pressed deeper, the narrow tip of his cock giving way to a thick girth that had you gasping for air and clutching the edge of your desk. Your nails dug into the unyielding wood as your pussy clamped down hard on the werewolf’s penetrating length. 

A soft chime came from your phone, and you picked it up to find James had sent a text through Pleasure Portal’s in-app messaging system. Some clients tried to use it for dirty talk, but more often than not, their attempts at seducing you with words had the opposite effect so you usually ignored them. 

However, James’s message was different. 

Fuck, you’re tight. Even for a human. 

The werewolf sounded grumpy, almost resentful of your pussy, like he could barely believe anyone, even a human, could be so tight. It was a far cry from the effusive flattery most other Patrons tried to woo you with, but the honesty of it charmed you. 

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, and your thumbs moved quickly as you typed out a response that you hoped would elicit more delightful grumpiness from the older werewolf. 

Fucked many humans, have you?

The self-satisfied grin on your face slipped when James pushed further into your hole, your mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ and your eyes going wide as your body stretched to accomodate his monster cock. 

He was so big and overwhelming, the velvet-wrapped steel of his girth rubbing deliciously against your inner walls while he pressed deeper, that you momentarily forgot about your phone and it fell with a dull thunk to your desk.

When he was still only partway inside your pussy, James paused, as if giving you time to adjust—and giving himself a moment to send an answer to your question. 

My fair share. How many werewolves have you had?

Picking up your phone to read the message, you huffed a dry laugh at James’s blunt question. It wasn’t really his business—though he must’ve seen on your profile that you had a few positive reviews from past werewolf Patrons—but you found you didn’t mind the intrusive question.

For some reason, you felt a connection to James that had always been lacking in your previous clients, werewolf and other monsters alike. You knew it was likely just because he reminded you of the boss you were crushing on and would never have, but you couldn’t help indulging yourself and gave James an honest response.

A few. None as big as you, though.

The werewolf must’ve shunted his hips forward, burying his cock impossibly deeper in your pussy. The sudden surge of pleasure made you forget yourself, and a desperate squeal slipped from your lips before you could clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound.

God, he was so big, the stretch of him burning pleasantly through your core. Your pussy throbbed around the thick girth of his shaft, which was buried so deep, you swore you could feel him in your belly. Pressing a palm to your lower stomach, you stared down at your lap in awe when you could feel the thick steel of him inside your body even while you sat alone in your desk chair. 

The magic of the Pleasure Portal was wild—and you loved it. 

You loved sitting at your desk, in your office above the clouds, stuffed full of werewolf cock where anyone could walk in—where even Bucky could walk in—and talk to you like nothing was out of the ordinary. He’d never know you were full of cock, unless your face gave you away.

That thought made your pussy drip around James’s thick cock, making the slide of his hard length easier as he slipped even deeper. Your moan at the feeling was muffled behind the palm of your hand and you bent over, letting your forehead fall against the cool wood of your desk while you basked in the sensation of being filled so deliciously. 

Even with your thighs trapped tight together by your pencil skirt, the new position opened your body up, and made it easier for James to hilt his monstrous cock in your tight hole. In seconds, he was buried to the base, filling you up more than you even thought possible.

It was all you could do to stifle your blissed-out moans and desperate whimpers in your hand, not wanting to draw your boss’s attention and end your exquisite torment as you writhed in pleasure on James’s cock.

I’m sure you say that to all the monsters on this app.

It took a moment for you to wade through the haze filling your head and grab your phone to read James’s message. 

When you did, you let out an unladylike snort. It was so perfectly grumpy that it made you want to be playful with the older werewolf, an urge you didn’t often care enough about your Patrons to muster.

Gotta earn those tips somehow 🤪

James must’ve let out a low growl at that response, because you could feel the vibration reverberate through his cock where it was buried inside you. 

A soft, pitiful mewl slipped from your lips, and you dropped your head back to your desk with a thunk, your eyes sliding closed as overwhelming pleasure washed through you. 

You’re trouble.

The chime of your phone had you lifting your head back up, your eyes popping open, and you couldn’t bite back the smile at the warm grumpiness of James’s response. 

Something about those two words had your heart doing flips in your chest and the long-dormant butterflies in your stomach taking flight. 

Your inner walls were stretched so perfectly around his hard length, you could practically feel the thrum of his blood pumping in his shaft, and he could feel every throb of your pussy. Your pussy fluttered around the werewolf’s thick cock, and you could feel him twitch in reply. 

It was as if your bodies were conversing in a language all their own.

It was so intimate, the physical connection between you and this anonymous werewolf named James, that you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to your boss. You wondered if he would be as big, if he’d fill you up as good—if you’d be able to feel every vein and ridge in his cock. 

You wondered if Bucky would be able to make you smile and laugh the way James had. 

And as soon as you had that thought, you realized how unfair you were being to James. It wasn’t his fault you couldn’t get over this ridiculous crush on your boss, and you started to feel bad for thinking about another monster while he was inside you.

So you pushed all thoughts of Bucky aside and refocused on James, picking up your phone to type out another playful response, hoping to get another grumpy reply.

Trouble with a tight pussy, though, right? 😉

Yeah, sweetling, you’ve got a very tight pussy. Feels like you’re strangling my dick.

You huffed a laugh at the vaguely violent description of your pussy, enjoying the blunt way the grumpy werewolf spoke. And if your heart fluttered even more at the sweet nickname and naked praise in James’s message, you ignored the blossoming emotion in your chest. 

The only thing worse than harboring a crush on your unattainable boss was developing a crush on one of your anonymous Pleasure Patrons. That way lay only heartbreak, of that you were certain. So you tried to rein in the feelings developing in your heart.

When you tried to type out another playful message and remain detached, though, your fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, sending a text that was perhaps a little too honest. 

Thank you, sir ☺️ I want to please you.

James’s cock jumped inside you, drawing a low, obscene moan from your lips before you could bite it back, your eyes going hazy as pleasure throbbed through your body. 

Distractedly, you wondered which part of your message had elicited that response from James—whether it was you calling him ‘sir’ or your honest desire to please him. Or perhaps it was both.

Before you could muster up the courage to ask, his next message came through, and your mouth curved into a pleased smile when it answered your unspoken questions.

Keep calling me that and you’ll earn a very generous tip, sweetling. 

A pleased smile bloomed across your face as you read James’s message. You tried to tell yourself it was in response to the prospect of the tip he was offering, and not the sweet nickname, but you weren’t fooling yourself. 

You tried to think of a more playful, detached response, but before you could come up with anything, another message came in.

I have a call soon, I just need some quick stress relief beforehand, but I’ll double your tip every time you cum on my cock.

You breathed a sigh of relief before you could stop yourself, happy to have a break from your flirty exchange with the werewolf to talk about the logistics of your session. Still, you couldn’t stop your pussy from fluttering around James’s cock at his blunt, filthy words. 

He filled you so well, it was almost hard to think, and you blamed your needy distraction for the almost desperate tone of the response you sent him. 

Use me, sir, and I’ll do my best to take it 🫡 That’s what I’m here for.

James didn’t need any more encouragement than that. You could feel the way he groaned at your words, the low rumbling of pleasure reverberating through your sensitive inner walls, and making you gush with even more wetness, like your pussy was drooling for the werewolf cock stuffed deep in your hole to fuck you.

Then he was doing just that, using his side of the Pleasure Portal to fuck you hard and fast, pounding into your pussy like you were nothing more than a fleshlight made solely for his pleasure. It was brutal, ruthless, perfect, the way his cock filled your tight hole, the pointed tip bullying your cervix with every merciless thrust.

All you could do was take it, pleasure swarming through your body and overwhelming your mind, until you were little more than the werewolf’s toy, your body hunched at your desk, your face buried in the crook of your arm to muffle your sounds of enjoyment while you took everything he offered. 

Your inner walls were stretched thin around James’s cock, and though the drag of his thick girth felt devastatingly good, it wasn’t enough to make you cum. With trembling fingers, you slipped your hand beneath your pencil skirt, not caring how high up your thighs you pushed the material, just intent about reaching the juncture of your thighs.

It took only a brief brush of your fingers against your clothed clit to set you off. 

Your mouth fell open and you pressed your blunt teeth into your arm through the silk of your blouse, a high-pitched whine falling from your lips as the pleasure in your body exploded and you were carried away in the relentless rhythm of James’s cock pounding into your cunt.

Your panting breath was loud in your ears, but you could’ve sworn you heard a faint groan as your pussy milked the werewolf’s cock, your inner walls clamping down so hard on his thick length, you felt him twitch deep inside you. 

But you brushed off the sound as a figment of your imagination. It must’ve been your mind playing tricks on you, born of a desire to hear your partner when you were alone in your pleasure, with only your gasps and moans as company. You ached to press against James’s sturdy body, to hear his voice, to feel more than his cock…

Thankfully, a soft chime from your phone dragged you back from the sudden rush of loneliness that filled your heart and threatened to consume all your enjoyment like a black hole. 

Good girl. Cum on this fat werewolf cock like the perfect little slut you are, sweetling.

“Oh fuck,” you whispered to yourself, your eyes sliding closed as another shiver of pleasure skated down your spine at his words and his pumping cock. Already, tension was coiling tight in your core again, and you were rocketing toward another release.

You’d never gotten off to the dirty talk your Patrons had sent in the past, but James’s words did something to you no other monster had managed—they made your pussy gush and flutter. They made you moan, the sounds low and lewd as they bounced off the bare walls of the office antechamber. 

James’s message was the ideal mix of praise and degradation. It tapped into your desires so perfectly, you wondered distractedly if he was also a wizard or a mind-reader. 

And then you realized he hadn’t stopped his ruthless pounding even when he’d been texting you, which meant he was fucking his half of the portal with one hand while typing his filthy messages to you with the other.

It all unraveled something in you, and you scrabbled for your phone on the desk, your fingers clumsy and trembling as you typed out a response, desperate for James to know what he was doing to you. You wanted him to know how good he was making you feel. 

You feel so so good inside my tight cunt, sir. Your fat werewolf cock is splitting me open, breaking me apart. Feels sooo good. 

The act of typing out those words made the tension in your body wind tighter, and just as you hit send, you realized you were on the precipice of another release. Quickly, you sent another message without waiting for a response. 

I’m gonna cum again.

Your fingers, which you’d pulled from beneath your skirt so you could text with two hands, slipped back beneath the tight fabric. They squirmed between your plush thighs, which were already pushing the pencil skirt’s seams to they’re limits, and tugged your panties to the side to rub your clit. 

You were careening toward your second release in just a few seconds, your breaths coming in sharp, desperate pants, and your heart pounding in your chest. You could even hear the faint, obscene wet sound of James’s cock pounding into your gushing pussy. 

But all of it fell away when you heard the chime of another message.

Rub your pretty pearl, sweetling, and cum again on this thick werewolf cock. Show me what a good slut you can be for me, use that tight cunt to milk my fat cock. 

Obediently, your fingertips pressed harder to your clit and you rubbed it roughly, matching the rhythm of James’s fucking, until you were shoved over the edge again. Your entire body seized, every muscle in your body going taut, as the tension in your core wound tight and then, suddenly, snapped. 

Dropping your phone to your desk, you shoved half your fist in your mouth to muffle the high-pitched scream that clawed up your throat and wanted to burst free. 

You couldn’t tell how much noise you were making, but you hoped it wasn’t enough to get Bucky’s attention, because you were lost to the bliss James offered. You were a hopeless, pitiful puddle of pleasure in your ergonomic chair—and you never wanted it to end.

While you were in the throes of your release, you thought you heard another groan, deeper and filthier than the one earlier, a sound that matched the way James’s cock kicked deep in your cunt, like he was on the verge of losing himself in your body. 

But that thought drifted away in the current of pleasure that was carrying you along, dissolving as soon as it had appeared, leaving you to revel in your release. 

Distantly, you heard your phone go off, and you reached for it blindly, gasping for breath as you struggled to open your eyes and read the text.

That’s a good girl, cumming so perfectly for me. You have such a slutty hole, sweetling, cumming all over my werewolf cock and clutching at me like you’re begging for more. Do you want another one, my sweet girl?

A soft, sharp whine slipped from your lips and you had to bite down hard on your plush lower lip to stifle the sound. Even still, it ricocheted off the bare walls in the antechamber, and you hoped the thick wood of Bucky’s office doors muffled it. 

But you barely paid your boss any mind, fingers trembling with need and excitement as you typed out a response to James with one hand.

Yes, please, sir. Please make me cum again, I wanna cum all over your big werewolf cock. You fill me up so so good. I wanna bounce on your huge, perfect cock and take every inch of your fat knot, sir. Please!

James’s reply came back so quickly, even you were stunned with how fast it appeared. All he said was: 

Fuck. You can’t be real.

You had little time to marvel over those words, and the way they made your heart flutter dangerously in your chest, because in the next breath James was pounding into you even harder. 

He used your cunt as his own personal pleasure portal, fucking you like you were the stress relief he deserved, shoving his entire length deep inside your pussy. The narrow tip of his cock battered against your cervix, pushing into it a little more each time, giving every thrust a sharp edge of pain that made the pleasure even more exquisitely devastating.

It was all too good, too perfect, your mind splintering as the world around you fell away entirely. You were no longer the senior EA to werewolf CEO Bucky Barnes, you were a Pleasure Pocket made to be used by every manner of monster for their pleasure. 

No, not just any monster—you were made specifically for James, 42, werewolf. You were his personal sex toy, his pocket pussy, his fuck hole. And all you could do was take it—take his cock, take the brutal pounding he offered, and the bliss that came with it, and let him take his pleasure in your body.

You imagined James on the other end of the magical portal, holding the cylindrical fleshlight-like device in his big hands and yanking it down on his impossibly thick cock. You pictured him fucking the portal toy—and, by extension, your cunt—with everything he had, sweat beading on his face, the muscles in his broad body shifting beneath his fur and skin.

Before you could stop it, the image in your mind shifted, the generic figure of a werewolf morphing into something more familiar, something resembling the daydream you’d had earlier. 

In your mind’s eye, James became Bucky. 

You could so easily picture the way Bucky’s bright blue eyes would flash with hunger and darken with lust as he pounded into your tight cunt, the emotions churning like the sky during a summer thunderstorm. 

It was far too easy to imagine the way his sharp canine teeth would glint in the lights of the office as he bore down on your body, his expensive suit only undone enough to free his cock, the gush of your pussy making a mess of the front of his slacks as he split you open with every thrust.

His inhuman muscles would strain the seams of his suit, making them cling to the bulge of his biceps and the flexing of his thighs as he fucked you on his desk. You’d be entirely at his mercy, which was exactly where you wanted to be more than anywhere else in the world—even with James.

A pang in your chest dragged you out of your fantasy, and you remembered the werewolf who was actually fucking you. You felt a little bit bad for daydreaming about Bucky when you were with James, especially since the latter had quickly become your favorite Patron. But, you reasoned, what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

So you sank deeper into your daydream about your boss, imagining it was Bucky fucking you instead of some random stranger on the other end of the Pleasure Portal. 

The combination of James’s perfect cock and your imagination’s perfect picture of Bucky was too much for your mind and body to take. The werewolf was fucking you too hard and too fast, and you were breathless from the pleasure, unable to stop yourself from speeding toward a devastating release. 

You held on for as long as you could, but James seemed intent on making you cum again before his call began. And the werewolf confirmed as much when your phone chimed with another message.

Do it. Cum on my cock, sweetling. Be a good girl and give it to me so I can fill you up with my knot and stuff your tight pussy full of cum. Then you can sit pretty on my fat werewolf cock like a perfect little knot slut while I take this call.

Those filthy words were all you needed to push you over the edge. 

A breathy, high-pitched cry escaped your lips before you could stop it, but you were too far gone to care. Pleasure overwhelmed you, blackness creeping into the edge of your consciousness as your body shivered and shook with the force of your release.

All the while, your pussy was clamped down on James’s thick cock as he kept fucking you, like your body was begging for his cum. His hard length vibrated with a groan you could’ve sworn you could hear. You swayed perilously in your chair, your eyes closed and your entire being focused on the cock bringing you so much pleasure.

The werewolf lasted only a few more moments, his thrusts turning wild and erratic as he rutted into your too-tight cunt. Then he was shoving his cock deep in your hole, his knot inflating and stretching the edge of your hole a second before his big cock twitched inside you, spilling his cum in your plugged pussy.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sudden stretch of James’s knot, and though there was a brief moment when you worried he might be too big for you to take, your body was loose and relaxed enough from your three orgasms that it adjusted. You were left with a feeling of being blissfully full.

It felt so good, in fact, that you leaned back in your chair with a sigh of contentment. Your fingers trapped between your thighs stroked your clit and your pussy pulsed with one more release. 

Pleasure shivered down your spine as you came again, and your inner walls fluttered weakly around James’s cock, sucking him deeper while his shaft throbbed and he filled you with cum.

Did you just cum for a fourth time, just on my knot?

You dragged your hand from beneath your skirt to grab your phone when it chimed. A sated smile curled the corners of your lips as you read James’s message, your pussy fluttering with happiness. 

The smile bloomed into a full-blown grin when you typed out your response, going for playful but ending up sending something entirely too honest. Again.

Yes, sir 🥴 I wouldn’t have thought of myself as a knot slut, but I think you’ve converted me. 

Haha

James’s dry response had a pleased sense of pride filling your chest. It was the first time he’d shown any kind of emotion outside of his dirty talk, and your heart squeezed, even as you told yourself nothing good could come of the little crush you were developing on your Pleasure Portal client. 

Before you could spiral about how you felt about James, though, another text from the werewolf came through your phone. 

Time for you to rest, sweetling. Be a good girl and keep my cock warm while I take this call. If you’re patient, I’ll use you again and double your tip.

You smiled at James’s message. Of course you could be patient and good, especially for him. You shifted in your seat, trying to get comfortable and accustomed to the feeling of fullness in your core.

It was a little strange, the feeling of James’s thick cock and full knot inside you, mainly because you were still alone at your desk, high above the New York City skyline, but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, you thought you might be able to get very used to sitting on a werewolf’s knot, and even enjoy it very much. 

But you would’ve rather been able to do so in the presence of the werewolf whose knot you were tied to.

A pang of loneliness pierced your heart, and you thought of the werewolf whose knot you really wanted to be tied to, but you quickly pushed it away. Instead of thinking about your boss, you focused on the throbbing pulse between your thighs where you were tied to the anonymous werewolf.

Thank you, sir. Knock ‘em dead 😘

As soon as you sent the message, you wanted to take it back. Blowing a kiss felt too…romantic, too intimate for a Pleasure Pocket and their Patron. But the little note had already popped up confirming James had seen it. He didn’t respond, though, and you had to assume his call had started.

You tried to distract yourself by checking on your own work. 

The fleet of assistants were all busy with their tasks, and according to Bucky’s schedule, he was in a meeting for the next couple hours. 

It was a relief to know your boss wouldn’t be interrupting your session with James, and you wondered distractedly if they might happen to be on the same call. But then you snorted and shook your head at the ridiculous thought. Not every werewolf knew each other, you chastised yourself, and it was small-minded to think otherwise.

It was just a coincidence that James was in a call at the same time that Bucky was in a virtual meeting. 

Satisfied that there wasn’t any work to be done, you got comfortable in your chair, and closed your eyes against the bright summer sun filtering in through the windows of the antechamber. You allowed your mind to drift and daydream to your heart’s content.

You wondered what James looked like—what color his eyes were; what shape his canine teeth were, if he left them sharp or had filed them to be blunter and more socially acceptable. You wondered if he was broad-shouldered, like Bucky, or lithe and slim like other werewolves you’d seen.

All the while, you tried to ignore the building restlessness in your body. 

You should’ve been plenty sated after James gave you four orgasms in such a short period of time, but the constant fullness of his cock in your cunt and his knot stretching the rim of your hole was enough to make you needy again.

Still, you remembered James’s last command, and you did your best to sit still, be patient and not bother him. It wasn’t that you cared much about the tip he’d offered, you just wanted to be good for him. 

After a while, James’s knot deflated enough that he could’ve pulled free and ended the sessions, but he kept his cock lodged inside you. His cum was slowly seeping out around his thick girth, soaking your panties and creating a sticky mess between your thighs. 

Unfortunately, that only turned you on more, your renewed desire mixing with the copious amount of James’s cum, and it wasn’t long before you couldn’t stop squirming in your seat. Unable to stop yourself, you slid a hand beneath your skirt, already bunched up around your thighs, and rubbed your clit teasingly.

The touch was enough to make your pussy pulse around James’s cock, and you felt his thick length kick in response. He’d softened a little since unloading his cum in your pussy, but you felt him start to harden again.

A second later, your phone chimed. 

Sweetling.

A shiver of desire slid down your spine at the warning in James’s tone, even through text. 

You knew the message was meant to stop you from distracting him during his call, but you couldn’t help yourself. You stroked your clit, delighting in the feeling of your pussy throbbing and his cock twitching deep in your tight hole, growing to fill you again. 

With one hand, you typed out a reply.

I tried to be good, sir, but I’m just a silly knot slut who needs you to fill me up with your fat werewolf cock again until you’re pumping my tight cunt full of your cum and tying me to your cock with your knot 🤪

James’s response came back a few seconds later.

I knew you’d be trouble.

You gave a soft snort at his words, and though it was difficult to discern someone’s tone over text, you got the impression James’s comment was said with warmth. 

Before you could analyze it any more, the werewolf’s cock began to move inside you. He fucked you in slow, shallow strokes that gave you only a fraction of the friction you needed to get close to cumming again. 

You expected him to pick up speed, but he went on like that for long, torturous minutes, until a pitiful whine was building in the back of your throat and you were scrabbling for your phone. 

In just a few minutes, James had reduced you to a desperate mess, your hips squirming restlessly in your chair, your body uselessly trying to fuck yourself on his cock.

Please, sir. Please fuck me, use my tight pussy to make your cock feel good. You’re tormenting me. I can’t get off like this. Please!

Writhing in your chair, you unbuttoned your blouse down to your bra, brazenly groping your tits and plucking at your nipples while you tried to give yourself the stimulation James seemed determined to withhold.

His next reply seemed to take forever. 

Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you decided to be a naughty knot slut instead of a good, patient girl like I asked.

A frustrated sound wrenched free from your lips and you abandoned your tits to drop your hand between your thighs. You rubbed your clit madly, intent on eking out a release despite James’s torture. 

James must’ve felt the way your pussy spasmed and fluttered around his cock as your pleasure ramped up, because another message came through.

If you cum, you won’t get any of the tip you’ve earned.

Your mouth twisted in a snarl and you rolled your eyes. Of course every man or monster using Pleasure Portal assumed you could be controlled with money. They all assumed that was the only thing you were after. 

You’d never been more grateful for Mr. Barnes’ generous salary than in that moment, because it meant you could care more about your release than James’s threat.

You kept rubbing your clit, rocking your hips on your seat until the ergonomic chair began to squeak. You were desperately clawing your way to the peak of your pleasure, and though you could already tell it wouldn’t be anywhere near the heights you’d reached earlier with James, it would at least take the edge off. 

But then the werewolf’s next message made your fingers go still. 

If you cum, I won’t use your pussy again. 

Your whole body shuddered in protest at the idea of not feeling James’s cock pounding into your cunt again, and a tiny growl slipped from your lips. 

It took a great deal of effort, but you pulled your hand from between your thighs and typed out a reply.

Fine.

You couldn’t help but tack on another message, anger, desire and frustration swirling through your body and making you feel far too comfortable with your client.

You’re a mean werewolf.

Faint vibrations reverberated through James’s cock and you thought he’d chuckled at your message, though you couldn’t be sure. Even more frustration surged, and for the first time since you started using the Pleasure Portal, you wished you were actually with your client. 

You wanted to see James’s reactions, you wanted to hear his voice and feel his strong body beneath yours while his cock filled you up…

That’s ‘You’re a mean werewolf, sir’ to you. 

James’s message brought your attention back to him and, despite yourself, you giggled at his ridiculous joke. Some of the frustration had drained from you as you eased back from the edge of your release, and you were ready to forgive him. 

But before you could, he sent another text.

Don’t worry, sweetling, my call’s almost over. Then I’ll use you the way you want. 

With a happy grin, you settled back into your chair and waited patiently, keeping the werewolf’s cock nice and warm in your dripping pussy. You kept your thoughts on easy things like your plans for the next weekend as you watched the sun slowly descend on New York City, the shadows growing long as they stretched across Central Park.

True to his word, James’s call ended not too long after his last message. You knew the moment it was over because he started fucking you hard and fast again, so suddenly you cried out, careless about whether your boss could overhear you. 

Thankfully, those thick wooden doors to Bucky’s office must’ve swallowed the sounds you made. You shoved your hand under your skirt, rubbing your clit, desperate to reach the crescendo he’d denied you during his call. 

Cum on my cock, sweetling. Gimme all your sweet cream while I fill you up with so much cum, your belly will be bloated, stuffed full with my seed and knot.

As soon as you read James’s message, you were lost to the pleasure of his words and his cock, and your fingers on your clit.

You muffled a piercing scream in the palm of your hand as you came, your mind flooding with pleasure and your pussy clamping down possessively on James’s cock while he rutted into you. You were so far gone in your bliss, you thought you heard a roar over the rush of blood in your ears, but you didn’t think it could be real.

Then all thoughts were pushed from your mind and you could only focus on your own clenching body, the warm waves of bliss surging through your limbs as James’s knot inflated and tied you together. His cock twitched as his cum spilled inside you, filling you beyond what you thought possible. 

You looked down at your belly, watching it swell slightly; your eyes widened, and your pussy gave an excited pulse. The sight was so obscene, you couldn’t help your response, but the werewolf on the other end of the portal didn’t seem to mind.

James’s cock kicked and reverberated like he’d groaned or chuckled, and you softened, relaxing into your seat as you enjoyed the aftershocks of your release. All the while, you lightly stroked your ever-so-slightly distended belly with a sense of pleased satisfaction. 

While you floated in your post-orgasm haze, your phone chimed with a sound like a cash register. Lazily, you picked it up, knowing it wasn’t a text, and read the screen.

Your jaw dropped and your whole body clenched in surprise at the amount of money James had tipped. His cock twitched as if in response in your cunt and you pressed your palm to your lower belly, as if to calm him, while you blinked a few times.

Still, the absurd number remained on your phone’s screen. 

You earned it, sweetling. 

The message popped up in the app and you clicked on it, navigating to your exchange with James. Your fingers were clumsy as you typed out a reply.

Thank you, sir. You’ve been so incredibly generous.

You chewed on your lip, thumbs hovering over the screen as you wondered if you should say more. 

You didn’t want James to think your session was all about the money, but was that a ridiculous thought? Maybe it was all about the money to him. He was using an anonymous sex portal app, after all. Not looking for someone to form a connection with.

But it still seemed like there was something more between you two, right? You felt more comfortable with him than you had any other client, like you knew him already somehow…

Before you could agonize over your exchange with James any more, a new message from the older werewolf came in. 

You were the best stress relief and cockwarmer, sweetling, and I enjoyed our afternoon together. I hope you’ll accept me as a Patron again.

James’s words settled the anxiety brewing in your chest and you let out a sigh of relief. You knew it didn’t mean he’d ever want more than you offered on Pleasure Portal, but at least he wanted to be with you again. It was as simple as that, you didn’t need to overcomplicate it.

He wanted to have another session with you—and you wanted that as well. So you told him as much. 

I had a good time, too. You’re welcome to use me any time you want, sir ☺️

The two of you chatted about unimportant things until James’s knot deflated, and he instructed you to drink plenty of water and have a nutritious snack. You promised him you would and bid him goodbye before ending the session.

Glancing at the time on your phone, you suddenly realized how late it had gotten and you pushed yourself up to your feet.

All the blood rushed to your head and you swayed for a moment, blinking spots from your eyes. Remembering James’s words, you gulped down some water from your reusable water bottle and grabbed a snack from your desk along with a spare set of clothes you kept on hand for messy Pleasure Portal sessions.

In the bathroom, you changed and cleaned yourself up, glad that Bucky was already in his office when you got to your desk that morning so he wouldn’t notice you were wearing something different if you ran into him.

Though that was a big if.

Your heart sank a little at the reminder of your unrequited crush on your boss, but hope filled you again when you thought of your newest Pleasure Patron. It might be another silly crush on an unattainable man, but at least James seemed interested in you.

By the time you made it back to the antechamber outside Bucky’s office, it was time for you to gather your things and head home. 

You were bent over your desk, your hips straining at the seams of the slightly smaller pencil skirt you’d thrown on, having forgotten it had shrunk a little in the wash, when a door opened behind you. You jumped and straightened up, nearly dropping your water bottle and spilling it all over your desk. 

“Oh! Mr. Barnes,” you said, spinning to find your boss towering in the doorway of his office, broad shoulders filling the space. “Heading home early?” you asked in a bright, professional tone, trying to hide the breathlessness from your voice. 

It wasn’t often that you saw your boss. He was always in meetings or coming or going from his office so that you only got cursory glances of the large werewolf. But he was paused for once, and you took a moment to look him over.

He had a mop of dark brown hair, worn just a little bit shaggy so no one could ever accuse him of trying to pass as anything but a werewolf. His blue eyes were bright and sharp in the late afternoon light, and you could see just a hint of his canine teeth as he offered a charming smile.

That expression on Bucky’s face nearly bowled you over. Your eyes skimmed quickly over his broad shoulders, trim waist and thick thighs before returning to the handsame face of the werewolf that haunted your daydreams. He looked every bit the important CEO, but there was also a looseness in his body you’d never seen before.

“I am,” Bucky said, his blunt words drawing you back to the moment. He held a hand out in a gesture for you to precede him to the elevators beyond the antechamber outside his office. “Let me walk you out.”

The offer was so surprising, all you could do was murmur, “Oh, thank you,” before scurrying in front of him. As you began to walk, you felt James’s cum begin to leak from your pussy and you moved faster.

Your belly wasn’t bloated anymore, and you’d cleaned yourself up as well as you could in the bathroom, but your Patron had filled you with so much cum, you expected you’d be leaking for the rest of the day, if not into the morning. 

You hoped desperately that your boss couldn’t smell it, because if he did, you wouldn’t have any explanation if he decided to question why you smelled like another werewolf’s cum when you were meant to be working at your desk outside his office.

When you came to a stop at the elevator bank, Bucky gently laid a hand on the small of your back and leaned around you to press the button. Thankfully, he didn’t show any signs of smelling James on you, and you exhaled a silent sigh of relief. 

The two of you made idle chatter while you waited for the elevator—you asked him how his afternoon meeting had gone and the edge of Bucky’s mouth fluttered like he was holding back a smirk while he told you it went very well. He said he’d gotten everything he wanted. 

Then he asked how your afternoon had gone, and you’d stumbled out a response about being very productive, all while more of James’s cum leaked from your cunt. 

As  you talked, you got the sense that Bucky was in a better mood than usual. He was certainly more talkative and open with you than was typical for the older werewolf CEO. He was polite, of course, but he mostly left you alone to do your job, only communicating via email.

But that particular afternoon, he seemed…happier. His icy blue eyes were warm, crinkling at the sides whenever he chuckled, and his smile was quicker, easier somehow. 

Impossibly, it made Bucky Barnes even more attractive to you. 

He was hot as the brusque and busy werewolf CEO, but this side of him, which was charming and warm, was even hotter. You could feel your heart unfurling in your chest, your feelings for your boss not only returning, but blossoming into something you didn’t know if you’d ever recover from.

When the elevator finally arrived, it was empty, and you gave yourself a subtle shake as you stepped in, reminding yourself that your boss was off-limits and likely didn’t see you as a potential partner. 

Bucky followed you, pressing the button for the lobby and turning to you as if to continue your conversation. But just then, the door whooshed closed and you were alone in a small, enclosed space with your boss—your werewolf boss. 

You were already looking at him, anticipating what he’d been about to say, so you were able to watch the change in his demeanor as it happened. 

Bucky’s nostrils flared, and his shoulders stiffened, his bright blue eyes darkening with something you could only describe as hunger. His gaze raked over your face, and his chest expanded as he took a deep breath, his thick muscles testing the limits of his suit. 

You watched as recognition dawned in his sharp, icy eyes, and if your mind wasn’t so sluggish after your afternoon of orgasms, you might’ve understood what was going on, what he was realizing. 

As it was, you still hadn’t caught up with the shift in Bucky. You stared at him in confusion as he stepped quickly to the side, his thick finger pressing the emergency stop button on the elevator. It shuddered to a halt between floors, leaving you alone with your boss.

Slowly, Bucky turned to you, his eyes flashing with lust and his teeth bared so that you could see the light glinting off his canine teeth. He prowled toward you slowly, like he was trying not to spook you. 

All you felt was intrigued, a thrill of excitement shooting through your body as you allowed Bucky to back you into the corner of the elevator until his chest was a hair’s breadth away from yours. Your chest was heaving in your blouse with excited, panting breaths, and your head was tilted back, watching Bucky’s face closely.

The purr that came from the werewolf CEO was so low and dark, you hardly recognized it as belonging to your boss, even as the sound went straight between your thighs. Your pussy thrummed eagerly in response, like it knew something you didn’t—like it recognized him in a way you didn’t understand yet. 

“Tell me, sweetling,” Bucky Barnes rasped, staring deep into your eyes as his big hand settled possessively on your hip. You swayed into him, watching his pink mouth framed by dark, gray-streaked stubble as he voiced the question that would change everything. “Why do you smell like my cum?”

thank you for reading!! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

as a reminder of my blog's rules, please do not comment/reblog only to request a part 2! specific questions and comments about the fic, the characters, and the larger universe are entirely welcome!! i just ask that you please engage with my story rather than simply demanding more!!

Hot Bucky Summer 2025 masterlist

[asecretgardeninmymind]

🥵 this is probably one of the best fics I have ever read 🥵

[asecretgardeninmymind]

Currently going crazy over Off Campus. Binged it on Saturday and I started a rewatch as soon as I clocked out of work today.

[witchywithwhiskey]

i was inspired by the bunnygirl sketch i reblogged yesterday, and i reeeeeally wanted to do something with bunnygirl!reader and wolfman!Bucky for easter, but i didn't have time. (it's my own fault. i decided i wanted to bake lemon sugar cookies AND lime sugar cookies—but they came out good though!)

so anyway have this little something i wrote in between baking 🐰🐺 this is a new kind of au for me, but if there's interest, i'll try to revisit this premise in a fully fleshed out fic (or maybe i'll finish the fic i started writing on the train yesterday about bunnygirl!reader walking into a dirty dive bar and finding wolfman!Bucky......)

warnings: about 1.8k words of 18+ content ahead (minors dni!!!). includes animal/human hybrids having sex + forest sex, knotting, breeding—these warnings are not complete!

bunnygirl!reader who ventures soooo deep into the woods because spring has sprung and you’re restless. you’re searching for something, but you don’t know what.

bunnygirl!reader who gets overheated because the leaves haven't fully come in yet and you’re so hot in the sun. so you strip down until you’re naked—sure that you’ve wandered so far into the forest no one else will be around—to take a nice refreshing dip in the stream.

bunnygirl!reader who stretches out in a patch of grass, letting the sun dry your skin so you don’t get your clothes wet. you start feeling warm again—but this is a different kind of warm—and you find your fingers wandering down between your thighs, where you’re wet and sticky and so sensitive. you’re aching and empty. you need to be fucked, you need to be pumped full of come like the good little breeding bunny you crave to be.

wolfman!Bucky who stumbles onto your clearing and stops in the shadow of the brush when he sees you, a delectable little bunnygirl making soft, needy sounds that are like music to his pointed ears. it only takes one whiff of your scent, carried on the gentle spring breeze, to make the blood rush to his cock, until he's straining against his jeans and pawing at the bulge for any kind of relief. he knows what you need and he’s more than willing to give you the rough pounding and the thorough breeding that your plump bunny body is yearning for.

wolfman!Bucky who can't take the torture of watching you for long. he's loathe to scare you, but he's not sure how much longer his cock will let his brain win out. he manages until your needy whimpers turn from something sweet to desperate. he watches while you flip over onto your belly, pushing up onto your knees, your cheek still pressed in the thick grass as you get into the new position. your fluffy, puffball tail wiggles and your ass sways invitingly as you finger your dripping hole, keening whines spilling from your perfect lips.

wolfman!Bucky who tears his clothes off as he emerges from the shadows of the forest, following his cock straight to you. he knows the moment you realize he's there because your long ears twitch toward his footsteps and you train hazy eyes on his big, broad form. he sinks down to his knees in the grass beside you, not touching you but pumping away at his cock as he coos at you, "poor little bun, d'you need some help?” his voice is a low rumble, nearly a purr and he watches as some of the tension drains from your body. “my name's Bucky, and I'd love to take care of you, if you'll let me."

bunnygirl!reader who was always warned away from big, bad wolves in the deep, dark forest… but Bucky looks nice, with his lowered ears and his fluffy, flicking tail. and his cock looks even nicer—so thick and long you know it will fill you up so much better than your fingers. he’s so handsome and he’s so hard, and you’re so, so needy. your body moves before your fuzzy mind has even realized you made your decision, your ears lowering in a sign of submission and your spine arching deeper, presenting your ass and dripping pussy to the wolfman with the pretty blue eyes.

bunnygirl!reader who whimpers a soft, plaintive, "please," and it's all Bucky needs to prowl around your body, grab you by your plush hips, and bury his face in your slick, swollen cunt. you cry out, your fingers tangling in the lush, spring grass of the forest as he begins to devour your whole. your hips thrust back against Bucky's face while the wolfman eats you out like he's starving, his greedy mouth drinking your nectar straight from the source while his tongue and teeth worship your plump pussy. he’s voracious, and it’s all you can do to keep your trembling thighs under you while you endure his hunger. 

bunnygirl!reader who's so lost in pleasure, you don't even flinch when the wolf's sharp canine teeth graze your clit. instead, a full-body shiver races down your spine and you let out a loud, wailing moan as tension coils tighter in your center. you still feel helplessly empty, your pussy clenching pitifully around nothing—except when Bucky slips his tongue into your pulsing hole—but you're too far gone to care. you're humping your hips, rubbing your pussy shamelessly on the wolfman's face, greedily riding Bucky's wickedly eager tongue. it’s enough to take the edge off your need, and you chase the pleasure relentlessly, eager for everything the wolfman has to offer.

wolfman!Bucky who's determined to make you come before he shoves you full of his cock, but you taste so sweet on his tongue, he's in danger of spilling into the grass. so he works you harder and harder, desperate for your release, sucking on your clit and fucking your tight hole with his tongue, dragging his sharp teeth against your plump flush, learning what you like. it's when he gets rougher, nipping your little pearl hard with his blunt teeth, that you finally come apart. as soon as he feels the telltale squeeze of your cunt, Bucky straightens, lines up the angry red tip of his cock with your pussy and shoves deep with one, savage thrust.

bunnygirl!reader who was already moaning through an overwhelming release, but at the sudden intrusion of Bucky's cock—the thick, hard length of him filling up your clenching cunt so perfectly—your cries ratchet higher, becoming screams of ecstasy. pleasure washes through your body in brutal, devastating waves, one release cresting into a second, your pussy pulsing steadily around the wolfman's cock and sucking him deeper, gripping the base of him, where you can already feel his knot beginning to expand. the thought of him filling you with his come and plugging you full of his knot sends you careening into a new wave of need, your mindless cries of pleasure becoming desperate whines all over again.

wolfman!Bucky who barely stops himself from coming as soon as he's buried knot-deep in your hot, sticky pussy. his entire being—mind, body and soul—narrows down to the point where you're clutching him like your cunt will never let him go. to distract himself, he runs his hands over your ass and hips, thumb flicking the cute little cottontail nestled just above the rosebud of your other hole, enjoying the blissed out whimpers that slip from your lips when he does. when the tenor of your voice changes and your ass begins to wiggle impatiently, Bucky curls his bigger body around your smaller form, his hands groping your tits roughly while his mouth finds your ear. "ready for the real fun to begin, little bun?" he growls, "gonna pound this tight, warm bunny cunt with my big, fat wolf cock and fill you up. gonna knot you—gonna breed you, lil bun."

bunnygirl!reader who goes completely mindless at those words, bouncing your ass against Bucky's lap and urging him on. the wolfman doesn't need any more incentive, setting a merciless pace, his hips snapping hard against your ass, his cock barreling deep into your pussy with rough thrusts. you cream all over his thick length, screaming your pleasure into the grass while you take the wolfman's pounding, so blissed out, so unbelievably full, that you hope it lasts forever. you want to be impaled on Bucky's cock for the rest of your life, a blissed out little bunny with a pussy eager for breeding.

wolfman!Bucky who ravages you tenderly, his hands groping and gripping all the plush softness of your body he can reach—pinching and plucking at your nipples, kneading your tits, squeezing your hips and thighs and pulling you harder and faster onto his cock. his knot is already beginning to inflate, catching at the edge of your hole and making you whimper deliciously beneath his bigger body. Bucky knows he's close, and he wants you there with him, so his hand slips between your thighs, rubbing meanly at your sticky, swollen clit until your breath hitches and your cunt clenches hard around his cock.

bunnygirl!reader who nearly blacks out from the pleasure, your breath caught in your lungs and your whole body strung tight. when Bucky bullies your clit, everything in your body snaps and you scream your release for all the trees of the deep, dark forest to hear. you scream so long and so loud, your throat goes raw, and you're distantly aware of the wolfman rutting into your body, chasing his own release while you're swept away in yours. finally, he shoves his cock deep in your cunt and his knot inflates, stretching you so full, your pussy shudders with another wave of pleasure that steals your breath, all while Bucky spills his hot, potent seed into you. "breed me, Bucky," you rasp sweetly, a dazed smile curling your lips, your cunt milking him dry. 

wolfman!Bucky who goes feral at your husky, honeyed words, hips grinding his knot deep into your cunt until his cock is pressed right against your cervix, giving you exactly what you want and filling you with every drop of come from his balls. he presses one hand to your lower belly, where he's throbbing inside you, and uses his other hand to turn your face toward him, growling against the corner of your mouth, "gonna breed you so good, baby. my lil bun's gonna be knocked up before spring's over.” he can feel your smile against his mouth, and it makes him groan his pleasure. “you’re gonna gimme a whole litter of pups before i'm done with you, isn't that right, my sweet girl?"

bunnygirl!reader who hums in agreement, smiling as you turn your head just a fraction of an inch more, pouting your lips until Bucky's capturing them in a devouring kiss. your wolfman cups your head gently and kisses you fiercely while you both come down from your releases. when he finally breaks the kiss, he eases you down onto your side into a more comfortable position. your smaller body fits perfectly into the cradle of his, his knot keeping the two of you tied together while Bucky lavishes your cheeks and neck and shoulders with kisses. 

wolfman!Bucky who can't believe his luck. he's holding you in his arms, one hand idly stroking your belly while he brushes butterfly kisses to your cheeks. you're using his bicep like a pillow and smiling so sweetly, giggling so delightedly at the feel of his scruff against your cheeks, that it makes his heart clench in his chest. he knows, on all his honor as a wolf, that he'll take care of you for the rest of his days. he'll kiss you and knot you and breed you. he'll make a home for you and provide for you and raise your kids together. he'll be yours for as long as you'll have him, his sweet little bunnygirl.

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

[superbassbuck]

smooth as tennessee whiskey

pairing: dad's bestfriend!cowboy!stucky x f!reader

warnings: 18+ NSFW, smut, angst, fluff, arguments, violence, jealousy, alcohol, one-sided enemies to lovers (grumpy!bucky), age gap, rough and mean sex, oral m!receiving, hair pulling, stucky homoeroticism, cucking, hair pulling, breeding kink, dirty talk (trickles into taboo undertones, you've been warned.) pet names: "baby doll, sweetheart, buttercup, darlin'"

word count: 20k masterlist

a/n: reads similar to my farmer!stucky fic. and just like farmer!stucky, it kind of ends a little dark, so be warned.

synopsis: Eager to travel the world after college, your father decides to step in and choose the countryside as your reluctant first destination. He's concerned for your safety, so he arranges two very close friends to watch over you as you set out on your new journey.

Rogers and Barnes,

How are you two doing? It’s been a long time since we last saw each other. Don’t even bother asking how things are over here in the city. I’m surrounded by people younger than me, dressed in suits and ties, commanding me around. Can you imagine how insulting that is for us men nearing forty? Hell, I miss sitting in the front yard of the old house, jamming on our guitars and banjos. I miss that connection. You can’t find anything like that in the city.

Anyway, let me get to the point. You remember my daughter, right? It’s been years since you folks saw her. Since she graduated college, she’s dying to ‘travel the world’ before falling into the hands of corporate life like her old man. She’s growing up too fast, I’ll tell ya.

She came up to me one day and said, “Dad, I wanna travel the world. I wanna go to Europe!” You can imagine the smile on my face. I told her, “Well, if you wanna start traveling, how about you play it safe and start in the States? The countryside, for example. I know a place you can stay. You remember Uncle Steve and Uncle Bucky?” She just scrunched her nose, shook her head, and said, “Nope!”

I know this is a little last minute, but the girl started packing her bags and hopped on a flight before I could give her the full rundown or even ask for your permission. Be careful when you have kids of your own—especially daughters.

I gave her your guys’ address, and she said she’ll be showing up at your front door this weekend. I tried to stop her, but once she starts running, it’s impossible to catch up. Especially when you’re getting older each day. I’m sure you two understand.

I worry about her, and I trust you two with my life. I ask that you folks give her the experience we had when we were younger and carefree.

Show her the life I’m missing out on by being stuck here.

Thanks, guys.

Take care of my little girl.

Bucky scoffed at the letter, gripping it tightly in his calloused, dirty hands. “Are you kiddin’ me?”

Steve entered through the front door, kicking off his heavy leather boots and pulling off his gloves. “What is it, Buck?” he huffed, nodding to the piece of paper. “What’s that in your hand?”

Bucky didn’t glance up. He took a sip of his beer and held the letter over his shoulder.

“You remember Crazy Clyde?” Bucky said with a satisfied exhale. “He sent us a letter—askin’ us to look over his daughter.”

Steve furrowed his brows. He hadn’t heard that name in a long time, much less anything recent about his daughter. “Crazy Clyde?”

The funny part was, Clyde wasn’t even your father’s real name. It was a nickname given to him back when he was growing up in the country alongside Steve and Bucky. The name spoke for itself—he was a shit talker who ran his mouth across half the damn town. It was even worse when he was drunk. “Clyde” only came after because it rang well together, and country folks loved stringing words together, especially when it came to insults.

Steve grabbed the letter, removing his cowboy hat and setting it on the table. His blue eyes raked over the words, his brows pinching together more and more until he reached the very bottom.

“Hell,” he breathed. “When did you get this?”

“Just got it in the mail today,” Bucky explained.

“Christ,” Steve shook his head, rereading the letter as if the ink might change. “Those damn mail carriers. Always takes long as shit.”

Both men wore unpleasant looks on their worn and aged faces. Their day had been tiresome, leaving their muscles aching for any form of relief. Now here they were, standing in a home that was in absolutely no position to be hospitable to a girl they hadn’t seen in over a decade—the daughter of an old friend they hadn’t spoken to in months.

“‘A little last minute,’” Bucky repeated the words on the letter with a bitter scoff, taking another sip of his cold beer. “Talk about an understatement.”

“Buck,” Steve finally set the paper down, hovering over his seated friend. “Crazy Clyde said his daughter would be droppin’ in this weekend.” He gulped, staring his friend dead in the eye as they reached a silent, mutual realization.

“Today is—”

“—Saturday,” Bucky finished.

For a minute, silence took up their space. They looked around their home, taking in the state of it; the couch barely standing on its wooden support beams, the beer and juice stains circling the dining table, and their dirty boots and gloves sprawled across the entrance. To top it all off, they had a mounted deer head hung on the wall that would likely send any city girl running home in tears.

“Hell,” Steve breathed, looking around the room in defeat. “Maybe she’ll come by tomorrow.”

“Either way,” Bucky interrupted, running a tired hand down his face. “We don’t have the time, the energy, or the livin’ space to just… let someone stay with us.”

Steve let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, the sound vibrating deep in his broad chest. He looked at the cramped quarters, then back at Bucky’s exhausted expression, and finally gave a sharp, reluctant nod in agreement.

“Alright,” Steve huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “But let’s say… she actually shows up on our doorstep. What do we even say to her?”

Bucky leaned back, his chair creaking as he folded his arms over his chest, staring up at his best friend. “Then we tell her, ‘Sorry, kid. Your daddy gave us late notice and we aren’t fit to babysit while you ‘explore’ the countryside. How about you try Italy instead?’”

“That’s cold, Buck.”

“No,” Bucky cut him off, slamming his beer down on the table and standing up. “You know what’s cold, Stevie? A man who hasn’t spoken to us in years and only sendin’ us a letter when he needs a favor. The city made him soft and spoiled. I bet he raised that daughter of his a spoiled brat, too.”

Steve rolled his eyes. If there was one thing he knew about Bucky, it was that his friend was fiercely protective—possessive, even—of the things he loved. Bucky didn’t do well with interlopers. For their entire lives, it had been just the two of them, and the whole town knew it.

When Sam Wilson first moved to town and Steve started befriending the kind fella, Bucky had been like a territorial cat—hissing and hair standing up every time Sam’s name was mentioned, or if the man was even breathing the same air as Steve.

It was only after months of knowing each other that Sam and Bucky finally became close.

But other than that, Bucky believed anyone outside their usual circle had bad intentions, like they were trying to tear the two of them apart. What they had was a rare, productive, and close partnership that always got the dirty work done—a friendship you’d never find anywhere else.

And with you coming into town—well, in Bucky’s mind, that was going to ruin everything.

Steve let out a deep sigh. “You know what? Fine,” he said with a shrug.

It was already Saturday—and the chances of you arriving ‘this weekend’ were already cutting it short. For all they knew, you’d chickened out and weren’t going to show up at all.

“If this lady shows up on our doorstep, we’ll just turn her down and send her the other way. Happy?”

The corner of Bucky’s lip twitched into the slightest smirk, though he tried to hide it. He just ran his tongue over his teeth beneath his lips and gave a sharp nod.

“Glad we can come to an agreement.”

Steve couldn’t help but grin at his friend’s reaction. He reached for his cowboy hat, settling it over his head and giving Bucky’s shoulder a firm pat. “Enough bickerin’ about ‘what-ifs.’ The horsies need feedin’.”

As Steve approached the front door, Bucky grabbed his own cowboy hat from the hanger and adjusted it over his head. Steve reached for the knob, and as he swung the door wide, ready to breathe in the cool country air, the sight on the other side made the air leave his lungs instead.

There you stood, your hand frozen mid-air, knuckles inches away from where the wood had been just a second ago.

You looked like a fever dream against the backdrop of the dusty porch and green fields. You were wearing designer clothes that probably cost more than their truck and shoes that were never meant for gravel, with a mountain of expensive luggage flanking your sides.

Steve stood there frozen, his large frame filling the doorway. His eyes raked over you with disbelief and something warm… like a sudden, simmering heat building in his groin at the sight of a beautiful woman—

“Who the hell are you?” Bucky’s gruff voice rang out from behind him.

Your face, bewildered at the sight of the two burly, older men in front of you, softened slightly as you smiled despite the rude introduction.

“Uncle Steve, Uncle Bucky,” you breathed, letting your hand fall to extend a polite greeting. “It’s nice to see you guys again!”

You forced a polite, cheerful tone, though the words leaving your lips were a lie and a half. Calling these two men ‘Uncle’—men you hadn’t seen since you could barely speak—felt entirely foreign on your lips.

When your father brought up the idea of you staying in the countryside, he spoke of Steve Rogers and James Barnes with such wonder in his eyes. You were pretty sure you’d never even seen him talk about your own mother the way he did those two.

He’d shown you photographs from their golden days, and they were ridiculously handsome. Your father told you James—who went by Bucky—was the local ladies’ man, and his looks certainly proved it. Steve had been smaller then, thinner, but still just as good looking.

That’s who you expected to see standing on this porch. Instead, you were face to face with walls of muscle hidden beneath dirty denim, heavy boots, and cowboy hats. They were older—much older than the two boys in the photos.

They both wore thick facial hair now. Steve’s was dense, with blonde hair curling at the nape of his neck and blue eyes that looked visibly tired and stern. Bucky had salt and pepper peeking through his stubble. His hair was shorter than Steve’s, and his eyes were much more guarded—agitated, almost.

Bucky’s arms were folded tightly over his chest as he glared down at you like you were some common solicitor.

You swallowed hard, averting your eyes from Bucky’s rude gaze to meet Steve’s—who looked far more approachable and kind, if only by comparison.

“You guys are my father’s friends, right? I hope you got the letter letting you know that I'm…”

Bucky nudged Steve hard in the arm, as if trying to signal him for something.

You frowned, your voice trailing off. “…staying here.”

Steve straightened up as if snapping out of a daydream, not sparing Bucky a single glance. “Uh, yes. Right,” he grunted. “We got the letter, darlin’.”

You beamed, a smile spreading across your features. “Great! Um,” you stood on your tiptoes, trying to peek over that wall of broad shoulders and into the house. “Where should I put my stuff—?”

But Bucky stepped forward, propping one arm high against the doorframe, leaning down at you as he blocked your view and path.

“Sorry, kid,” Bucky grunted, though he didn’t sound sorry at all.

“Your daddy gave us a late notice, and we aren’t fit to babysit while you ‘xplore the countryside.” He shot Steve a look, his next question coming out with a harsh bite. “How ‘bout you try Paris instead?”

Steve just grinned, glancing at Bucky before stepping aside to let you in anyway. “I thought the suggestion was Italy, Buck?”

You could’ve sworn you heard Bucky mutter a litany of curses under his breath, but Steve paid him no mind. He leaned down, grabbing two suitcases at a time as if they weighed nothing, and hauled them into the living room.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve called back. “Help the little lady out.”

Bucky stayed against the doorframe for a second longer. The height difference was dizzying. You had to tilt your head back, straining the column of your neck just to meet his eyes beneath the shadow of his cowboy hat.

He didn’t look like a family friend at all.

He looked like a stormy, grumpy, old raincloud.

Your dad was actually friends with this guy?

After a few more curses, Bucky finally pushed himself off the wall and he moved with a begrudging pace, stepping deep into your personal space to snatch up the remaining bags. He didn’t just take them—he jerked them off the porch as if they were an inconvenience.

As he straightened up, his broad chest nearly brushed your shoulder. The scent of cedar, tobacco, and old leather hit you all at once, making your nose scrunch up. He cut his eyes down at you, giving you one last glare that essentially promised your stay wouldn’t be a vacation.

“Thank you—” you started, the words small and tentative.

Bucky didn’t even let you finish. He let out a grumpy, unintelligible grunt, turned his back on you, and hauled the luggage inside.

Steve set the heavy suitcases onto the floorboards, sending dust particles dancing in the shafts of sunlight cutting through the windows.

He straightened up, but before he could even offer you a tour, Bucky’s hand clamped onto his shoulder.

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice was low and dangerous. “A word. Now.”

Steve didn’t look surprised—he just looked tired. He gave you a warm, apologetic look that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Make yourself at home, darlin’. Use the water filter if you’re thirsty. We’ll be back in a second.”

Bucky’s entire face contorted into a grimace at the ‘darlin’’ comment. It was a good thing the brim of his hat shielded most of his expression. He hooked his fingers into the back of Steve’s jacket and hauled him toward the narrow hallway. You watched as Steve practically got dragged around the corner, a startled little “Oof!” escaping his lips as Bucky pulled him out of view.

You were left standing in the middle of the living room, feeling unwelcome and entirely out of place.

When your father spoke of these two, he made them sound like friendly, caring men—which had only fueled your excitement for the beginnings of your trip.

But now, standing there and staring up at a mounted deer head in the center of the wall, you were starting to wonder if this was a massive mistake after all.

“Steve, are you shittin’ me right now?” Bucky hissed just around the corner. “Whatever happened to ‘if this lady shows up on our doorstep, we’ll just turn her down and send her the other way’?”

“Come on.” Steve rested both hands on his hips, giving his friend a scolding look. “The girl traveled all this way just to see us.”

“Not us,” Bucky corrected sharply. “She wanted to visit the town.”

Steve continued anyway, ignoring the bite in Bucky’s tone. “She’s only goin’ to be here for—what? A couple of days? We can at least manage that, Bucky.”

Bucky shook his head in disbelief, his hand coming up to grip the back of his neck. “I can't believe this. Where is she even going to sleep, Steve? On that couch? It can barely hold the two of us for a Sunday beer, let alone a princess for a week.”

“Your room,” Steve said flatly.

Bucky’s eyes practically bulged out of his head. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a vibrating growl. “My room? Are you outta’ your goddamn mind? Where the hell am I supposed to go?”

“You can sleep in mine. My bed is big enough for both of us, and far comfier than yours anyway.” Steve watched Bucky’s face carefully, a trace of a smirk playing on his lips. “Technically, I’m doin’ you a favor.”

Bucky opened his mouth to argue—to tell Steve exactly where he could shove his ‘favor’—but the words died in a frustrated, incoherent mumble.

A heavy silence fell between them. Then, they both leaned out slightly, glancing back toward the living room where you were still standing, looking small and out of place beneath that mounted deer head.

Steve’s gaze softened, his expression turning thoughtful.

“She’s a real beauty, ain’t she?” Steve murmured, his voice turning almost fond. “She’s all grown up now.”

It was a miracle you couldn’t feel the daggers Bucky was glaring into your back. His jaw clenched at Steve’s words, though he didn’t deny it entirely.

“She’s trouble, Steve. That’s what she is.”

“Buck,” Steve turned to him, his voice dropping slightly. “She’s just a girl with dreams bigger than her own head. Her father chose us, even if it’s been,” he blew raspberries, “years since he reached out properly. He was a close friend before he moved away. He did a lot for us—the least we can do is this.”

Bucky shifted his boots uncomfortably, his gaze lingering back on you for a moment longer than he intended. Through the gap in the hallway, he watched as you reached out a hesitant hand to touch the worn fabric of an old armchair, your eyes wide and glassy with wonder.

It was the same look he and Steve used to have back in the day—when the world felt big and full of promise, before the years had weathered them down.

You looked so innocent, completely untainted, and for some reason—especially knowing you were his close friend’s daughter—it was a look he wanted to protect. Though he would never admit it aloud.

He let out a long, heavy sigh, looking down at his boots before meeting Steve’s eyes again.

“Fine,” Bucky rasped, the word barely more than a growl. “But if she breaks somethin’—or if she starts actin’ like a spoiled little brat, I ain’t the one who’s gonna be gentle ‘bout it.”

“Hey,” Steve warned, though he couldn’t help the smile on his lips. “Play nice.”

“You want me to play nice?” Bucky huffed, already turning away. “I’ll show you how I play nice.”

He adjusted his hat, squared his shoulders, and stepped back into the living room. The floorboards creaked under his heavy boots, announcing his return.

“Alright, princess,” Bucky grumbled, his voice startling you as he marched toward your luggage. “Ain’t no five-star fancy hotel, and your tour guide ain’t like the young ones you see in the magazines.” He groaned, hoisting two of your suitcases. “Follow me. I’ll show you where you’re gonna be stayin’ before I change my mind.”

You blinked, not fully processing Bucky’s words until he was already halfway down the hall. He stopped, looking over his shoulder when he realized you weren’t following him.

“Well?” he huffed, his forehead wrinkling as he glared at you. “You comin’? Or do you need me to carry you, too?”

You quickly forced yourself off the couch, the floorboards creaking as your footsteps caught up to him. He let out a grunt of approval and turned back around, leading you toward the bedrooms. Your eyes couldn’t help but trace the broadness of Bucky’s shoulders from behind. He sauntered in front of you, his forearms flexed and straining with the weight of your suitcases.

Despite all his grumpiness, he was an undeniably strong, capable, and handsome man.

So, how could you not stare?

You nearly bumped into him when he came to an abrupt stop in front of a closed door. Setting one of the suitcases down, he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Stepping inside, it didn’t take long to realize this was Bucky’s personal space.

The bed was covered in dark blue plaid sheets that had been left unmade. Drawers were cracked open with clothes and socks peeking out. The room carried a scent that was uniquely Bucky—heavy on the masculine notes of cedarwood and worn leather.

“Well, this is it,” Bucky announced, stepping inside and dropping your suitcases in the middle of the floor.

“Your room?” you frowned, following him and taking in the rustic surroundings. “My dad told me you guys had a big family house. I… I thought I’d be staying in a guest room or something. Not one of your own bedrooms…”

“Yeah, well—your old man’s memory’s all fucked up,” Bucky grumbled, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

You bit your lower lip as guilt started to eat at you. You were a woman who prided herself on making good first impressions—a trait your father had drilled into you early. In the city, a good impression meant more connections, and connections meant moving up in the world. It was a survival tactic back home.

With that in mind, the way Bucky was deliberately avoiding your gaze killed you inside.

“I’m sorry—”

But before you could fully express your apology, Steve’s heavy footsteps sounded behind you. He propped an arm against the doorframe, grinning broadly.

“Don’t get too comfortable in here just yet,” Steve said, clearly trying to lighten the tense mood. “You wanted a taste of the countryside, right? Let’s go show you the rest of it.”

To say you wanted a taste of the countryside was a bit of a stretch—your father had only agreed to let you travel if you started here first. With Bucky’s gaze still digging daggers into your back, you felt hesitant, but Steve was so warm, his smile so genuine, that you were grateful for him extending a grapevine.

“You know what? Sure, that sounds nice,” you said, forcing a smile before turning back to Bucky. “Will you be coming?”

“Waste my energy walkin’ around a place I’ve seen a million times just ‘cause a pretty girl shows up on my doorstep?” Bucky looked down at his nails, deciding they were far more interesting than you. “No thanks.”

“Don’t mind him,” Steve leaned in close, offering a small, reassuring smile. “He’s all bark, no bite. He’ll come around.”

With a gentle hand hovering near your lower back, he guided you out of the bedroom and away from Bucky’s brooding presence. Steve walked you through the rest of the rustic home, pointing out the bathroom—a simple but clean space with a clawfoot tub.

“Shower’s right through there,” he noted, gesturing to the brass fixtures. “Water takes a minute to get hot, but once it does, it’ll practically peel your skin off, so be careful.”

Next was the kitchen, which felt like the heart of the house with its cast-iron pans and the scent of bitter coffee. A small, round wooden table sat in the middle with only two chairs. It was clear they weren’t used to company; the house was built for the two of them and them alone. Steve paused at the table, eyeing the two chairs before letting out a small huff of a laugh.

“We don’t have another dinin’ chair, so I hope you don’t mind sittin’ on one of our laps.”

Your face immediately flushed as the words registered. “W-what—?”

“I’m just messin’ around, buttercup,” Steve snickered, though it didn’t sound much like a joke.

Finally, he led you out onto the wide, wraparound porch. Several chairs and comfy benches were scattered about, far more accommodating than the seating inside.

“This is where we gather ‘round, bring some folks over and play some tunes,” Steve explained, gesturing to the seats.

You raised a brow. “You guys play instruments?”

“Guitar,” Steve said, adjusting his hat. “And Bucky plays the harmonica.”

The guitar was fitting for Steve, but you couldn’t help but giggle at the image of a man as grumpy as Bucky Barnes whipping out a harmonica and going to town. Steve’s grin widened at the sound of your laughter.

“You’re gigglin’ now, but just watch,” he pointed a finger at you jokingly. “He’s quite the player. We’ll have to show you sometime.”

Now that you could stand on the porch without the chaos of hauling luggage, the view was absolutely breathtaking. Vast, rolling green fields seemed to touch the sky, turning golden in the afternoon sun. Steve glanced down at you, taking in the way you stared into the distance, your eyes wide and full of wonder as a soft “Wow” escaped your lips.

“Beautiful, ain’t it?” Steve smiled, sweeping a hand toward the horizon as you stepped into the front yard. “No skyscrapers to block the view, and the only neighbors you’ll hear are the chickens, the cattle, and the horses.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, letting the fresh air fill your lungs in a way city air never could. “It’s different, but it’s beautiful.”

Steve turned, his smile softening as he caught sight of you. With the afternoon sun hitting you just right—with the soft wind blowing in your hair and the sunlight and catching the gleam in your eyes—he seemed to find you much more interesting than the landscape.

To Steve, you were absolutely breathtaking. He knew that if your father were here right now, he’d slap him silly for the way he was staring, let alone for the impure thoughts running through his mind. He cleared his throat, trying to shake the filthy, mental images running through his old mind for a girl who’s more than half his age.

“I’m glad you think so.”

He began walking you toward the side of the house, leading you to a sprawling, well-tended garden and a series of larger fields beyond. “Over here is where we grow most of our own. Corn, beans, squash... and I’ve got a patch of tomatoes that’ll be the best thing you ever tasted once they’re ripe.”

You’d always thought the farmers' markets in the city square were the closest you’d get to whole foods, but this was entirely different.

Steve reached down, casually plucking a stray weed from the edge of a row with a grunt. “Bucky’s the muscle when it comes to the heavy tillin’, but I’m the one with the green thumb. I’m a damn good cook, too, if I do say so myself.”

He stood up, dusting his hands off on his dirty denim jeans as he gave you a playful, confident look. “I’ll have to whip somethin’ up for you one of these nights you’re here. Show you what real farm-to-table food actually tastes like.”

You looked at the vastness of the crops, realizing just how much work these two put in with their own very large hands. “You really do everything yourselves, don’t you?”

“That’s the only right way to do it, baby,” Steve drawled, planting his hands on his hips as his smirk deepened.

Baby.

The word rolled off his tongue—low, honeyed, and thick with a southern accent that made your heart skip a beat. You felt the heat climb into your cheeks, and you quickly looked down at your shoes, suddenly feeling too shy to maintain his gaze.

A little, raspy chuckle escaped his lips. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Let me show you the horses,” Steve said, nodding toward the stables and gesturing for you to follow. “Don’t wanna keep ‘em waitin’ now.”

He led you toward the stables, where the heavy, earthy scent of hay and horsehide hit you all at once. It was a thick, unfamiliar smell, and you couldn’t help but scrunch your nose.

Steve noticed, glancing over his shoulder with an amused chuckle. “Not exactly the perfume you’re used to, is it?” He gestured toward the wide, shadowed stalls. “This is where we keep our beauties—”

Steve stopped in his tracks as he realized you guys weren’t alone.

Bucky was deep in the shadows of the furthest stall. His hat was tipped back, and his sleeves were rolled past his elbows to reveal beefy, corded forearms as he brushed down a massive, coal-black mare. The horse huffed, leaning into his touch, and for a split second, you saw a flicker of softness in Bucky’s eyes.

It was clearly a side he didn’t want you to see, because as soon as he heard your footsteps, his head snapped to you with a cold glare.

His jaw tightened, and his movements with the brush grew sharper, almost more aggressive.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Bucky grumbled, his eyes returning to the horse.

You bit your lip, choosing your words carefully to not upset him further. “Uncle Steve just wanted to show me around—I didn’t mean to bother you, Uncle Bucky.”

“Don’t call us uncle, kid,” Bucky snapped, still refusing to look at you. “We haven’t seen you since you were in diapers. We ain’t family.”

You flinched slightly at his cold words.

“Buck,” Steve warned, his voice dropping as he rested a protective hand on your shoulder.

Bucky finally looked at you. His eyes landed on Steve’s hand before snapping back to your face. He clicked his tongue dismissively and went back to tending his horse.

A slow, tired exhale escaped Steve behind you. With his hand still on you, he gently nudged you to the next stall, where a horse with a beautiful chestnut mane and the softest brown eyes was watching you curiously.

“This right here is my horse,” Steve said. His voice was much softer now, a far difference to the tone he’d used with Bucky just seconds ago.

You finally let out the breath you’d been holding since Bucky told you off. A small, shy smile tugged at your lips as the horse huffed a warm greeting against your palm. “She’s beautiful.”

“Her name’s Peggy.”

A loud, unmistakable scoff echoed from the far end of the barn where Bucky stood. He didn’t say a word, but the sound was enough to let you know there was a history with that name you didn’t quite understand yet.

Steve ignored Bucky’s attitude entirely, his focus remaining solely on you. Peggy, sensing your gentle energy, let out a soft whuff and began nuzzling her velvet nose against your palm, rubbing her head into your hand with an affectionate push.

You let out a startled, breathless giggle. Back home, you were used to lap dogs and small cats—not a thousand pound animal demanding your attention. You weren’t used to something so large being so friendly, and you instinctively pulled your hand away, stumbling back half a step when the sensation became overwhelming.

“Be a good girl now, Peg,” Steve murmured to the horse, though his eyes never left you. “You’re scarin’ the misses.”

Before you could fully retreat, Steve’s large, rough hand moved from your shoulder to your waist. His grip was firm and steadying, pinning you right where you were between the stall and his body. He stepped closer until his chest was a solid, warm wall against your back.

He leaned down over your shoulder, his face so close you could feel his heat. You swallowed hard as his voice came out raspy and hot, vibrating right against your ear.

“Wouldya look at that? She loves you.”

The heat from Steve’s chest was seeping through your clothes, and your gaze dropped to his hands. They were huge, his tanned, calloused fingers practically wrapping halfway around your waist, holding you in place almost possessively.

You felt like you were on fire. Being pinned between a massive horse and an even more massive man had your heart running circles in your chest.

But then, your eyes drifted just past Steve’s shoulder.

At the far end of the stable, the shadows couldn’t hide Bucky, no matter how hard he tried to tuck himself away.

His jaw was clenched so tight the muscle bulged in his cheek, and his knuckles were white where he gripped the handle of the brush. He looked beyond grumpy—he looked almost livid. His dark eyes were hidden beneath the brim of his hat, but you could still feel them boring into the exact spot where Steve’s hand met your hip.

“Can I… can I meet your horse too, Bucky?” you asked, your voice coming out soft and breathy.

The silence that followed was deafening. You nearly regretted the question the moment it left your mouth. Steve went still, hovering just behind you as he, too, waited for Bucky’s response.

Eventually, Bucky huffed out a harsh, dry laugh. “My horse don’t like strangers,” he murmured. “’specially ones that smell like expensive city soap. It’ll just aggravate her.”

“I’m sure she’s not that picky,” you said, forcing a small smile in an attempt to crack his shell.

Despite the safety of Steve’s hand and chest, you took a breath as you gently ducked out of the way. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you as you took a step toward the far end of the stall.

Bucky didn’t push you away, which was a surprise in itself. Instead, he just mumbled, “If she bites, I’m not suckin’ on your finger.”

You didn’t doubt him for a second.

As you drew closer, the massive black mare—the one Bucky claimed was so ‘aggravated’ by city folk—perked her ears up. She didn’t huff or stomp. She stretched her long neck over the gate, her nostrils flared as she caught the scent of you. Before Bucky could tell you to leave, the mare let out a low, vibrating nuzzle against your shoulder.

“Oh!” a small, genuine laugh of disbelief escaped you. “She likes my soap, apparently!”

Bucky stood still, his eyes widening as he watched his beloved horse befriend a stranger in a matter of seconds. He folded his arms over his chest, watching your delicate fingers work through the mare’s dark mane.

He watched the way your small smile lit up your face, the pure joy that took over once you’d won the animal’s affection. His heart swelled, though he couldn’t tell if it was because of how soft and innocent you looked or because his horse was being such a good girl by opening up so easily.

For the sake of his blood pressure, he chose the latter.

But then, the mare got a little too excited. Eager for more attention, she tossed her heavy head and snapped her teeth toward your fingers, catching you off guard.

As you gasped, Bucky’s hand shot out. His fingers—rough and surprisingly warm—grabbed around your wrist, pulling your hand back toward his chest and out of harm’s way.

“Easy, girl,” he cooed.

If someone were to touch your face right now, they would’ve pulled back from the heat alone.

His voice wasn’t the usual grumpy mumble he used to tell you off. It was a low, almost melodic vibration. And although he wasn’t speaking to you, your heart thrummed just the same. His thumb brushed against the pulse point of your wrist, and he could surely feel how fast your heart was moving because of him.

“She’s got a bit of a temper when she’s happy,” Bucky explained, finally dropping your hand.

You frowned slightly, feeling a pang of disappointment at the loss of contact. To Bucky, however, it looked like you were just shaken from nearly losing a finger.

“What’s her name?” you asked softly.

Bucky swallowed hard, reaching out to pet the mare’s nose. “Rebecca. Named after my late sister.”

“Oh,” you breathed, your shoulders deflating slightly at the news. “I’m so sorry, Bucky. It’s a beautiful name.”

Bucky didn’t look at you. He just kept his hand on Rebecca’s nose, his thumb tracing a slow circle over her skin.

“Do you guys have family that live nearby?” you pried gently, glancing between him and Steve, who was stepping up beside you. “Or is it just the two of you out here?”

“Just us now,” Steve said, his voice gentle. “Our folks passed on a good while back, but they were the ones who started all this.”

He gestured to the sturdy beams of the barn and the fields beyond. “Our parents were best friends, just like us. Raised us side-by-side on this very dirt. Sarah and Winnie—those were our mothers.”

A small, almost shy smile touched Steve’s lips as he looked at the garden rows outside the stable door. “My ma, Sarah, she was the one with the green thumb. Always takin’ care of the crops, talkin’ to the tomatoes like they were her own kin. Pretty sure I got my patience from her.”

He then nudged his head towards Bucky.

“And Buck’s mom, Winnie?” he whistled, making Bucky shake his head with a deep chuckle. “She was a horse girl through and through. Could break a wild stallion before she even had her morning coffee. She’s the one who taught us how to ride—and how to listen to ‘em. Ain’t that right, Bucky?”

Bucky looked down at his boots, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his eyes, but you still managed to catch a glimpse of that real smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah. She was a hardass, that’s for sure,” Bucky nodded, his voice surprisingly soft. “Was hard on your dad, too.”

You smiled at the thought. The few times they had brought up your father today, it was always a petty remark.

“Were you and my dad close?” you asked gently.

Steve watched Bucky, his expression unreadable, as if waiting for his friend to take the lead on the answer. When Bucky remained quiet, his thumb still tracing circles on the mare’s nose, Steve finally spoke up.

“We were very good friends,” he explained with a kind, steady smile.

Before you could dwell on their tension or press for more, Steve clapped his hands together. The sharp sound made you jump and caused Bucky to snap his head up.

“Well, how ‘bout it?” Steve asked, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops. “Sun’s gonna be setting in a bit, and there ain’t no better way to see the back acres. You wanna go for a ride?”

Your eyes widened. “I—I don’t really know how to ride,” you admitted, a bit embarrassed. “I’ve only ever seen horses in movies or… through a fence.”

Steve’s smile widened as he stepped closer, resting a hand on the small of your back and gently guiding you toward his horse. “Don’t you worry none, buttercup. We won’t let you fall.”

The sun was starting to set, and Steve and Bucky led the horses out of the dim stable and into the open air. The wide expanse of the ranch felt even more intimidating now that you were expected to traverse it on the back of a living, breathing animal.

Steve checked the cinch on Peggy’s saddle, tugging it tight to ensure it wouldn’t slip. He swung himself up and settled, looking like he’d been born in the saddle itself. He looked down at you, holding the reins loosely in one hand while offering the other.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his voice deep and sweet. “Left foot in the stirrup. Don’t be shy now.”

You looked at the height of the horse, then at Steve, feeling hesitant. You took a step back, shaking your head. “I… I don’t know about this, Steve. Maybe I should just walk—”

Before you could finish, Bucky appeared behind you. He didn’t give you a warning, he simply pressed up against your back and gripped his hands around your waist tightly. You gasped as he hoisted you into the air effortlessly, lifting you upward until were seatled firmly on Peggy’s back in front of Steve.

Steve’s hands found your waist as you wobbled, steadying you in place.

Bucky stepped back, adjusting the brim of his hat. “You don’t decline a ride out here,” he lectured, his voice gruff. “It’s rude.”

He turned on his heel and walked back to his own horse, leaving you slightly embarassed after being humbled by Bucky yet again.

“He’s got a point,” Steve chuckled warmly from behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his frame as he took the reins in his hands. “And besides, I’ve got a real firm hold on you. You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

With a sharp click of his tongue, Bucky urged Rebecca into a brisk trot, quickly pulling ahead and taking the lead. You watched him go, the silhouette of his broad shoulders dipped in the gold of the setting sun, making him look like he’d stepped straight out of a cinematic painting.

In contrast, your ride with Steve was gentle and slow, but you prefered it that way.

“You’re doin’ just fine,” Steve murmured behind you. He noticed the way you were white knuckling the saddle horn and reached around you. “Here. Take the reins.”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you admitted, but Steve was already sliding his large hands over yours, guiding your fingers to grip the leather straps.

He kept his hands over yours, warm and firmly in control. “I’ve got you.”

You watched Bucky and his horse tread on, his pace never slowing. You bit your lip, the silence and the distance between you and him finally giving you the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on your mind since you arrived.

“He doesn’t like me much, does he?” you asked softly.

Steve’s hands tightened just slightly over yours, a small sigh escaping him.

“It ain’t that…” he trailed off. “Buck’s just… he’s really big on loyalty. Friendship, family—all that kind of stuff.”

Steve watched his friend ride into the distance, his eyes filled with earnestness.

“When your dad had you, Buck was so damn happy. Your dad was the first guy out of the group to do the whole marriage-and-kid thing. Buck thought, ‘A kid of yours is a kid of mine.’ He was excited to be a godfather, or an uncle. We were just excited to be in your life, you know?”

You stayed silent, prompting him to continue.

“So, when your ma wanted to pack her things and move you all somewhere ‘better’—Bucky was livid. He told your dad, ‘How are you gonna let a girl dictate how you live your life?’ and your dad just said, ‘When you fall in love with a woman, you’d do anything for her. You just don’t get it.’”

Steve swallowed hard as he went on.

“And since you all left for the city, we never heard back from him. So you can imagine how it felt for Buck to get a letter from your daddy out of nowhere, askin’ for his daughter to stay with us after all these years.”

You bit your lower lip, the broken raspiness in Steve’s voice making the guilt eat at your heart even faster. You knew Bucky’s resentment was technically unfair—a result of your father’s silence rather than anything you had done—but you couldn’t help the sympathy you felt for the years of friendship they had lost.

“I’m sorry things didn’t turn out the way you both wanted them to,” you whispered.

“Don’t apologize, darlin’,” Steve reassured you. He momentarily shifted his grip, one hand coming up to ruffle your hair in a playful, teasing gesture that made you lean back into him. “Sometimes you just gotta see the glass as half-full. I’m just glad your dad still chose us to take care of you after all these years. To me, that’s better than nothin’.”

He squeezed your hand where it rested on the reins, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“And my,” he rumbled, his voice vibrating through your spine, “what a fine woman you’ve grown up to be.”

Your face went hot, the heat of it rivaling the setting sun that touched your skin. The way he said it—with a dark, sultry appreciation that wasn’t at all familial—sent excitement from your heart straight to your core.

Instinctively, you shifted in the saddle, trying to find your breath, but the movement only caused you to lean back further. Your hips moved against the hard, muscular denim of his thighs, and you felt the hitch in his breathing the moment you rubbed against him.

Steve didn’t pull anyway—if anything, one hand found your waist, giving it a possessive squeeze.

“Don’t rub up against me like that, baby,” he rasped against your ear, his hat shielding the dark, hungry look in his eyes. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

Meanwhile, Bucky spurred Rebecca into a trot, circling back until he was riding parallel to Peggy. His eyes didn’t stray to you, but he was clearly aware of how closely you were tucked into Steve’s lap.

“Steve,” Bucky called out, deliberately ignoring your presence. “We hittin’ the Country Club tonight?”

The Country Club wasn’t the kind of place with golf courses and polo shirts. It was the heart of the town—a sprawling, wood planked hall where the beer was cold, the line dancing was fast and sloppy, and the mechanical bull was the only thing meaner than a hungry coyote.

It was loud, rowdy, and exactly where every cowboy in the county ended up on a Saturday night.

Steve leaned back a little away from you. “Yeah, I reckon we are.” He looked down at you, eyes twinkling. “How ‘bout it, sweetheart? You wanna tag along? We’ll show you more of the countryside your dad wanted you to see.”

You felt Bucky’s gaze then.

It was practically screaming for you to say no.

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude,” you said, forcing a polite chuckle. “I’ll just stay home and get settled in. I’m sure you guys want some time with your friends.”

Bucky let out a short, huffed breath of what might have been relief, but Steve wasn’t having it.

“There ain’t much to do at home but listen to the chickens, darlin’,” Steve insisted. “Come with us. It’ll be fun. You can watch good ol’ Buck here get thrown off the bull for the third time this month.”

“I don’t get thrown off,” Bucky mumbled, folding his arms over his chest as he glared at the horizon.

“Come on,” Steve urged. “And if you aren’t havin’ a good time, or if it gets too loud for ya, just say the word. We’ll leave right then and there. Promise.”

You stayed silent, still hesitant as your eyes flickered between the two of them. Bucky technically wasn’t saying no, yet he still avoided looking at you. Steve, on the other hand, was a presence you couldn’t ignore.

“You know, your daddy loved the place.” Steve added, coaxing you in.

You smiled softly, already picturing your father getting giddy and rowdy with these two men in their younger days. You glanced at Bucky warily, seeking some kind of confirmation. “Is that true?”

Bucky didn’t look up. “Never missed a night.”

“Okay,” you breathed, a small smile finally tugging at your lips. “I’ll go.”

The tension in Steve’s shoulders dropped instantly at your agreement.

“Great. Let’s head home and freshen up, and then we’ll be right on out.” He took control of the reins, spinning Peggy around toward the house. “You’re gonna have a lot of fun, sweetheart. I promise.”

By the time you arrived back at the house, the evening air had turned crisp, and the sun had long since dipped beneath the silhouette of the mountains. You retreated to Bucky’s room—the space he had begrudgingly vacated for you—and closed the door behind you.

You began to strip out of your travel-worn clothes, shivering slightly as the cool air hit your skin. You were down to your undergarments—simple, soft white cotton that felt wholesome and modest, yet left you feeling incredibly vulnerable in the middle of this… very masculine sanctuary.

As you reached for your fresh clothes in your suitcase, your eyes caught on one of Bucky’s hats sitting atop of the dark wood dresser. It was worn at the edges, shaped perfectly to the curve of his head.

On a very curious whim, you picked it up and placed it on your own head. It was far too big, the brim dropping over your eyes, but you couldn’t help but glance at yourself in the mirror.

There was something about the rugged piece of him covering your hair that made you smile.

Here you were, in a grown man’s bedroom, wearing nothing but his cowboy hat and white cotton undergarments, grinning at your reflection. You felt like a little girl playing pretend. You practiced adjusting the brim, trying to mimic the way Steve and Bucky did it, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at how ridiculous it all felt.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open, the sharp creak of the hinges making your head snap to the sound.

Bucky stepped inside, his head down as he fumbled with the buttons of a half-done shirt, his mind clearly a million miles away.

“Steve, have you seen my brown jacket? I think I left it in the—”

As Bucky lifted his head, his breath got stuck in his throat. The air in the small bedroom vanished instantly, leaving a vacuum of pure, suffocating tension. You felt like you could choke.

There you were, bathed in the soft, amber glow of the bedside lamp. You were dressed only in soft white cotton, the little pink bow at the center of your underwear greeting him shamelessly. But what truly made Bucky’s throat go dry was the sight of the hat—his hat—perched on your head. The brim was tilted at that same playful angle you’d been practicing, casting a shadow over your wide, startled eyes.

“I…” you started, face flushing in embarrassment. “I didn’t—”

You braced yourself. You expected him to yell, to tell you to take his precious hat off your head and stay home for the rest of the night. You were, after all, standing in his bedroom, stripped down and wearing his most personal possession.

“I came for my jacket,” Bucky croaked instead, his voice sounding like it had been dragged over broken glass.

He took a step past the doorframe, ostensibly to find his coat, yet his eyes were traitors. They kept snapping back to your face, to the hat, to the curves of your body, and back to the hat again. He swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing sharply.

“You look…” he stopped himself, his chest rising and falling in a heavy breath as he struggled to find his composure. “You’re wearin’ my hat.”

Mortified, you felt the heat climb from your chest all the way to the tips of your ears. You ripped the hat off your head—leaving your hair a bit fuzzled and messed up—and clutched the stiff felt against your chest in a desperate attempt to shield your body.

“I just…” you stammered, small and breathless. “I saw it sitting there on the dresser and I got a bit curious, I guess. I didn’t mean to—”

You squeezed your eyes, waiting for his sharp tongue to lecture you on boundaries, but instead, you heard his boots move closer to you. His large hands reached out, gently prying the hat from your grip. You held your breath as he lifted it, but he didn’t set it back on the dresser.

With a slow, careful motion, he propped it back onto your head—his fingers lingered at the brim, adjusting it just so, tilting it until the shadow of it played across your flustered cheeks.

“No,” he murmured, his voice low and deep, making your bare toes curl against the floor. “Wear it tonight.”

Bucky stepped back, though he was still far too close for you to think straight. He licked his bottom lip, the moisture glistening, before he caught the skin between his teeth, biting down. His eyes were dark, hooded, and heavy as they trailed a slow, scorched path down to your face, then dropped to the curve of your body, before snapping back up to lock onto your gaze.

“It looks much better on you than it ever did on me, anyway,” he rasped.

You felt the words die in your throat. You could only stare back at him, wide-eyed, because that was the first genuinely kind thing he had said to you since you arrived.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you breathed.

Bucky didn’t say anything else. He pressed his lips together, giving you a curt nod before grabbing his brown jacket from the chair near the door.

“Meet us out front in ten,” he called out over his shoulder. His voice had returned to its usual gruffness as he walked out, though he shut the door much softer than he had opened it.

Ten minutes later, the cool night air hit your skin as you pushed through the screen door, but the atmosphere on the porch turned stiflingly hot the second you stepped out.

Steve and Bucky were leaning against the porch railing, deep in a quiet conversation that died the moment they saw you. Both of them straightened up immediately, their bodies rigid as if they’d been struck by lightning.

You stood there, a little self-conscious, wearing a dress that hugged your waist and flared at your hips. It was cute, feminine, and a stark contrast to the rugged, oversized cowboy hat resting on your head.

Steve’s breath left him in a sharp, audible hitch. With his blue eyes wide, he let them travel from the tips of your toes up the length of your bare legs, lingering far too long on the way the dress fit before landing on the hat. A slow, crooked grin spread across his face.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve exhaled. “You’re gonna start a riot in that town, sweetheart.”

Bucky’s reaction, however, was worse. He didn’t even give you the courtesy of a smile. He just stood there, his jaw clenched tight and his eyes dangerously dark.

Every time Bucky looked at you, he saw his old friend’s face—the man who had trusted him to watch over his daughter—but every time his gaze dropped to the swell of your breast or the curve of your shining lips, that trust felt like a fraying rope.

He looked at the hat on your head, and to Bucky, that hat meant he had already made his claim on you.

Long before Steve ever could.

“We should go,” Bucky strained, his voice sounding like he was physically fighting the urge to say something he shouldn’t.

“Before it gets any darker.”

By the time the neon sign for the Country Club flickered into view, the parking lot was already a sea of mud caked duallys and vintage pickups.

As you stepped out of the truck and Steve held the door for you, your ears rang with the muffled thrum of music. The entire building seemed to vibrate with the stomp and clacking of leather boots on hardwood, punctuated by the roar of a crowd cheering on someone at the mechanical bull.

Nervous, you tuck between the two men for comfort.

Steve noticed your hesitation. He placed a steadying hand on your lower back, his thumb tracing a slow circle over the fabric of your dress.

“Stay close, darlin’. It’s a bit rowdy tonight.”

They led you through the swinging double doors and straight to the long, scarred bar. The bartender—a man who looked like he’d seen a century’s worth of bar fights—gave Steve and Bucky a nod before sliding three coasters onto the wood.

“Andy,” Bucky greeted, his voice barely audible over the fiddle music.

“If it isn’t Cap and Winter,” the bartender, Andy, said, already turning around to grab a well-worn bottle of whiskey. He cut a sharp look toward you.

“And who’s the little lady?

“This here is Crazy Clyde’s daughter,” Steve said, pulling out a barstool and gesturing for you to take a seat. “She’s visitin’ town.”

You took a seat on the high stool, eyeing Bucky and Steve with a raised brow. “Crazy Clyde?”

“That was your dad’s nickname,” Bucky explained, already taking a slow, steady sip out of the amber whiskey Andy had poured him.

You couldn’t help it; a small chuckle bubbled up in your throat. The idea of your father—the man you knew as relatively composed—running around with a name like a low budget cartoon character was too much.

“How come he gets stuck with a corny nickname like that while you guys get to walk around with cool ones like ‘Cap’ and ‘Winter’?” you asked, tilting your head.

Steve let out a huff of a laugh, leaning his elbow on the bar so he could tilt his head closer to yours.

“Well, now, don’t go feelin' too bad for him, sweetheart,” Steve said, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “He earned that name fair and square. Your daddy had a habit of chasin’ down drinks and jumpin’ off barn roofs on a dare. He was a wild one—made us look like choir boys back in the day.”

Your smile widened, letting out a soft laugh at the thought. Steve’s eyes crinkled as he laughed along, and in the corner of your eye, you were fairly certain you saw Bucky’s lips curve into a faint smile as he watched the two of you.

“So, what can we get ya?” Steve shouted over the music. “They make a decent gin fizz if you want somethin’ light.”

You looked at the rows of whiskey bottles and the rough edged men around you. Bucky’s fingers were already nursing an amber glass, drinking it without any reaction, and although you knew you couldn’t do the same, you still wanted to try and fit in.

“I’ll just have whatever you guys are having,” you tried to sound more confident than you felt.

Steve’s eyebrows raised, amused. He looked at Bucky, who only snickered behind the rim of his glass.

“You sure about that, sweetheart?” Steve asked, his brows furrowing in concern. “That’s a lot of kick for someone who ain’t used to drinkin’.”

“Just get the damn girl what she wants, Steve,” Bucky grumbled.

He set his glass down, the heavy thud punctuating his words as he looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on the hat again.

“If she wants to bite off more than she can chew, let her.”

Steve gave Bucky a skeptical look, then turned his gaze back to you. Eventually, he sighed and signaled with his fingers for Andy to bring over another glass. Once the whiskey was nestled on your coaster, you lifted it, and the pungent, medicinal smell immediately made you scrunch your nose.

Bucky snickered, taking satisfaction in your hesitation.

Steve lifted his own glass, the rim of it hovering right against his lips. “Are you sure ‘bout this, sweetheart? You know, it’s never too late to order a fruity cocktail—”

But before he could even finish the sentence, you inhaled deeply, tilted your head back, and downed the entire glass in one go.

Steve’s jaw hung open while Bucky turned his head toward you, his eyes widening.

The drink was disgusting.

The burn hit your throat like liquid fire, making your eyes water, but the look on their faces made every bit of the sting worth it.

You slammed the glass down, the heavy thud punctuating the silence of their shock. For a second, your mind was dizzy and your eyes watered. The whiskey hit your stomach like a ball of hot lead, and you couldn’t help but gag, a hand flying to your mouth as you fought to keep your pride and the liquid down.

“Not… not too bad,” you choked out, eyes watering.

Steve blinked in disbelief before throwing his head back and slapping a hand on the bar with a laugh. “Jesus, baby!”

“Hell, if you wanted to shoot it back, you could’ve just ordered a shot,” Bucky remarked.

You shivered, your throat still feeling like you’d swallowed a hot coal.

“What do you mean?” you rasped, genuinely confused. “Isn’t that how you do it?”

Steve reached over, his fingers gently brushing your arm as he laughed. “Usually, with a pour that big, you’re supposed to sip it, sweetheart. Savor the flavor, or whatever the hell the distillers say.”

Your face felt hot from a mixture of embarrassment and the alcohol.

“… Oh.”

He shook his head, looking at the empty glass and then back at your flushed face. “But hey, looks like you got your daddy’s traits after all. Clyde never did have much patience for sippin’ either.”

Suddenly, the crowd exploded into a loud roar of hooting and hollering that made the floors shake. Across the room, a young cowboy had just been launched into the padded mats by a mechanical bull that looked… more like a prehistoric beast than a machine.

The adrenaline from the whiskey and the booming atmosphere was blooming fast in your chest, making you feel braver and a little more reckless than you had any right to be.

You looked at the bull, then back at the two men who were cheering along with the crowd.

“I want to try it,” you blurted out over the noise.

Steve’s laughter caught in his throat, and he looked down at you with wide eyes. “You want to ride on that?”

“What’s the matter, Cap?” you teased, encouraged by the alcohol. “Don’t think I've got enough of my dad’s traits in me?”

You glanced at Bucky, but he hadn’t said a word. His eyes trailed from your face down to the hem of your dress, his expression slightly judgmental. He looked as though he were a father himself, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

“It’s a long way down,” Bucky warned, his voice bordering on condescending. “And your dress is hardly fit for a machine like that. You tryna’ flash the entire bar, city girl?”

You weren’t fond of the way Bucky was talking down to you, treating you like a child who didn't know any better. If gulping down a glass of whiskey neat wasn’t enough to prove you were capable, then riding that bull would have to do it.

“I’m going,” you declared, sliding off the barstool.

You felt a little lightheaded as your feet hit the floor, but you straightened your shoulders and adjusted Bucky’s hat, pulling the brim down low over your eyes exactly the way he did. In the ruckus of the club, you didn’t hear the soft, reluctant chuckle that escaped Bucky’s lips at the sight of you mimicking him.

Steve’s hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could take another step.

“Listen, it’s not going to be like how it is in the movies, sweetheart. It’s hard—you’ve gotta use your core, and if you don’t grip it right, you’re gonna go flyin’,” he warned.

You gently pried your hand away, giving him a playful, tipsy nudge in the shoulder. “I’ve got it, Steve!”

You turned to head toward the pit, though you wobbled slightly as the whiskey did a little dance in your head. You caught your balance quickly as you approached the announcer—a guy in a dark Stetson who was holding a megaphone. You leaned in, shouting over the music that you were a family friend of Steve and Bucky’s and that you wanted a turn.

“Well, alright now!” his voice boomed through the rafters. “Looks like we got a brave one tonight! This here is Steve and Bucky’s girl! Let’s see if she’s got the grit to match ‘em!”

The crowd erupted, and you felt several pairs of eyes on you. Men whistled and women cheered, and you felt like your heart could explode in your chest from the rush.

At the bar, Bucky’s face went a deep shade of crimson that he tried to hide beneath his hat.

Steve, however, didn’t look embarrassed at all. He caught your eye and gave you a little nod, his chest puffed out like he was more than happy to claim you in front of the whole county.

The operator gave you a hand up, and you swung your leg over the leather saddle. Bucky was right—the dress was an issue. It bunched up high on your thighs, but with the adrenaline and whiskey singing in your veins, you didn’t care.

The bull started with slow rolls, and you shifted your hips, digging your knees in. As the machine began to pick up speed, spinning and bucking in sharp gallops, you held on tighter and engaged your core just like Steve told you.

Steve leaned back against the table next to Bucky, letting out a low whistle.

“Wow,” he breathed. “Look at her, Buck. She looks…” Steve’s eyes trailed from the tilt of your head down to your bare legs, clenched tight around the machine, “… delicious.”

Bucky scoffed, but he wasn’t even looking at you anymore; he was looking at the crowd. His eyes kept darting around the room, noting every low whistle and hungry gaze coming from the local cowboys. He saw the way the men were eyeing the curve of your legs and the way your dress hugged your chest as you held on for dear life.

“Stevie,” Bucky muttered. “I don’t like this.”

“What?” Steve shouted over the noise, leaning in closer to his friend.

Bucky looked around, his jaw locked tight. “I don’t like the way they’re lookin’ at her, Steve.”

He looked less like a proud family friend and more like a predator protecting his territory. The more the men around them whistled or ogled your legs, the more he wanted to walk over there and pull you off that machine himself. He hated the way they looked at you because he knew exactly what they were thinking—mostly because he was thinking the exact same thing.

“She’s doin’ a great job and she’s havin’ fun,” Steve countered. “Look at her, Buck. She’s smilin’ all cute. Just let her be.”

Bucky’s gaze didn’t waver from the crowd, his knuckles nearly turning white as he gripped the edge of the bar.

“That’s the point,” he muttered under his breath, but the ruckus was too loud, and Steve didn’t hear him.

A group of younger guys moved in right next to them, not even trying to be quiet. They leaned against the railing of the bull pit, their eyes glued to the way your dress was riding up as the machine bucked and made you bounce.

“That’s Steve and Bucky’s girl?” one of them jeered, his eyes raking over you with a slow, dirty look. “You think they’re sharin’ her?”

“Hell no,” his friend laughed behind his beer bottle. “They’re way too damn old for a girl like that. Probably just their caretaker.”

“Ain’t that Crazy Clyde’s daughter, though? We haven’t seen that old man around town in a minute.”

“Sure is,” the first guy drawled drunkenly, his voice rising over the music. “Man… the things I’d do to Crazy Clyde’s little girl the minute she gets off that machine.”

Bucky’s head immediately snapped toward them, his face darkening as he sneered in their direction. It was one thing to insult him—that, Bucky could take. But insulting the people he cared about was enough to make him see red.

As he pushed himself off the bar top and clenched his fist, Steve’s hand shot out, grabbing Bucky’s forearm in a tight grip.

“Don’t,” Steve hissed. “Not when she’s here, Buck. Not tonight. She’ll look at us differently if we start a brawl over her.”

Bucky’s breath came in harsh, jagged hitches as he fought the urge to drive his fist into the guy’s face. “Did you not hear the shit he was talkin’, Steve?” he snarled. “He needs a sock in the mouth, and I’m gonna be the one to give it to him.”

As he tried to shove Steve’s hand away, Steve’s grip only tightened.

“What’s gotten into you? Look at her!” He gestured toward you on the bull. “She’s enjoyin’ herself. Just let her have her fun tonight. We’ll deal with these kids later.”

Bucky hesitated, looking back at you. He saw your pure, genuine smile and heard that warm laugh ring out over the music. He knew he’d been treating you like hell since you arrived, and he couldn’t bring himself to ruin the one good moment you were having.

A slow, impatient breath escaped Bucky’s lungs as he finally let his shoulders drop. “Fine.”

But their exchange hadn’t gone unnoticed. One of the guys glanced over, eyeing Bucky up and down, entirely unimpressed by the glowering man in the cowboy hat.

“What’s wrong, grandpa?” the guy sneered, emboldened by his friends’ laughter. “Don’t like the way I’m talkin’ ‘bout your niece?”

Another string holding Bucky’s patience together snapped.

“She ain’t my niece,” Bucky warned. He glared at the man from beneath the brim of his hat, his eyes sharp enough to cut.

The guy just took a slow swig of his beer, a greasy smirk stretching across his face, emboldened by the audience of his friends. “Well, you’re sure as hell too old to be anything else.”

Bucky’s eyebrow twitched.

He took a heavy step forward, the movement so sudden it nearly jerked his arm right out of Steve’s hold.

“The hell is that ‘sposed to mean?”

The guy shrugged, his eyes flicking back to you on the bull before returning to Bucky with a sneer. “It means a fine thing like that needs a man who can actually keep up. Not someone who’s probably lookin’ for his reading glasses and a heating pad. Why don’t you go back to the retirement home and let a real man show her a good time?”

Bucky didn’t wait for Steve’s permission, and he certainly didn’t wait for the guy to finish his laugh.

With a movement so fast, Bucky’s fist collided with the guy’s jaw. A sharp, meaty crack cut through the country music, leaving the man’s head snapping and his greasy smirk disappearing as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He didn’t even have time to put his hands up to defend himself before he was lifted off his feet, crashing backward into the railing of the bull pit.

“Jesus, Buck!” Steve barked from behind.

The moment the first guy hit the floor, the bar turned into a powder keg. The two friends who had been laughing seconds ago looked at Bucky, their expressions turning furious as they lunged for him next.

Steve didn’t think.

He didn’t have to.

The minute he saw his best friend getting jumped, he clicked his tongue and rolled up his sleeves. He intercepted the second guy mid-swing, catching him by the collar and throwing him back against a table, leaving the people around him in shock.

“I told you to let it go!” Steve yelled over his shoulder at Bucky, even as he ducked a swinging bottle and delivered a punishing blow to another guy’s ribs.

To you, perched high on the spinning bull, the noise of the fight was easily mistaken for cheering. Between the flashing lights, the shouting, and the whistles, it sounded like the whole bar was rooting for you. The buzzer finally droned, and the bull slowly came to a halt. You were flushed and panting, a proud grin plastered on your face as you slid down the side of the machine and hopped onto the mats.

You tried to push through the dense wall of people to where Steve and Bucky should have been.

“Did you see that?!” you laughed, shaking your hair out of your face as you stepped out of the pit, your legs still a little wobbly. “Steve! Bucky! I stayed on the whole—”

As the crowd parted, the sight made your eyes go wide. Steve and Bucky were standing in a cleared out circle, surrounded by the bar’s security and several local guys who looked ready for another fight. Bucky looked rough—his lip was torn and bleeding, staining the edge of his jaw while his chest heaved in anger. Steve was right beside him, his breathing heavy and his knuckles bruised and bloodied.

You couldn’t hear much over the blaring music and the crowd, but the owner of the bar was pointing a finger toward the door, his face red with rage.

They were in the middle of getting kicked out.

“W-what happened?” you stammered, stepping toward them while carefully dodging broken glass and the several men groaning on the floor.

Steve’s expression softened as soon as he saw you. He stepped forward, putting a protective hand on your shoulder.

“It’s nothin’, sweet—”

“It’s time to go,” Bucky interrupted, his voice snapping.

He didn’t even look at you. He just bent over with a groan, picking his hat from the floor, and propped it low over his eyes as he walked to the exit without looking back.

The bouncer gave Steve a final shove toward the door. Steve sighed, his shoulders dropping as he carefully led you out with him.

“Let’s… let’s just get to the truck.”

As the three of you walked outside, the gravel crunched under Steve’s boots. He eventually let go of your back, walking next to you while Bucky stayed a good few feet ahead.

“I’m sorry,” Steve started, his voice thick with guilt as he kept his eyes on his friend’s back. “You shouldn’t have seen that. There was a couple of guys talkin’ ‘bout some things they shouldn’t have. He… we shouldn’t have let it get that far. It was stupid, and we should’ve handled it better.”

Bucky’s stride was long and aggressive. He reached the truck and grabbed the door handle, but he didn’t open it. He just stood there for a second, his back shaking with each ragged breath as he listened to you and Steve.

“It’s okay,” you whispered with a frown. “I just don’t understand. What could they have possibly said for you guys to get into such a big fight like that—”

Bucky let go of the door handle and spun around so fast that gravel kicked up under his boots.

“This is all your fault,” he snapped, his blue eyes burning with a dark, concentrated anger as he looked at you—and only you.

You flinched back, eyes widening in surprise. “M-me?”

Steve’s hand was back on your shoulder instantly, tightening in a comforting way as if he had seen this outburst coming. “Buck, knock it off. She didn’t do anything.”

“The hell she didn’t!” Bucky shot back, gesturing wildly toward you—toward the dress, the bar.

He looked at you, his torn lip curling as he pointed a finger.

“You just had to go up there. You had to have everyone lookin’ at you, didn’t you? Shakin’ around on that thing like you don’t know exactly what men in a place like this are thinkin’ when they see you.”

“Bucky,” Steve tried to step in between you two. “Stop.”

But Bucky gave him a rough shove, causing Steve to stumble back as Bucky stepped even closer, nearly getting in your face. “We were just ‘sposed to have a few drinks, but you had to make a scene.”

“Make a scene?” you huffed a disbelieving laugh, your eyes flickering to Steve before landing back on Bucky. “Is this some sort of joke? All I did was ride the mechanical bull—!”

“No,” Bucky interrupted. “You want to know what a joke is? It’s your damn father sendin’ us a letter with zero communication after years, tellin’ us to take care of his little girl without even askin’ for our approval.”

He stepped closer, invading your space until you could smell the copper of the blood on his lip. But you didn’t back down. You stood your ground, feet planted in the gravel as you met his hostile gaze with your own, despite having to crane your neck just to look up at him.

“Is that what this is about?” you challenged, your voice trembling but firm. “You’re mad at a letter? So you’re taking it out on me?”

Bucky’s face scrunched into a snarl. “Your old man vanished without a proper goodbye, talkin’ ‘bout how we were gonna be the best uncles, just for him to cut us out of your life for years. And then you just... waltz in. No warning, no care in the world, taking up space in my house. Taking up my damn room and makin’ yourself our responsibility.”

His voice was shaking now, the resentment he’d been bottling up finally boiling over.

“And then I have to watch you,” he hissed, his eyes scanning every inch of your face with a dark, restless energy. “I have to watch Steve look at you like you’re the best thing that ever happened to this town. I have to sit at a bar and listen to every low life in there talkin’ ‘bout what they’d do to you, while you’re up there smilin’ and givin’ them exactly what they want to see.”

“So, a few guys talk dirty about me and you decide to get into a fight?” you scoffed, your chest nearly brushing against his jacket. “I can handle my own, Bucky. I’ve been taking care of myself long before I showed up on your doorstep. I don’t need you two defending me like I’m some helpless kid!”

Bucky’s jaw tightened so hard you heard the bone click. A dark, incredulous laugh bubbled up in his throat—a sound entirely devoid of humor.

“Handle your own?” he mocked.“You could’ve traveled anywhere else, yet you’re stuck here with us ‘cause your daddy told you to come. You need grown men tellin’ you what to do, sweetheart. You can’t handle a damn thing.”

Your anger was boiling over at this point, and you felt like you could cry. Steve stepped up next to Bucky as he clamped a hand on his shoulder, trying to pry him away from you. But Bucky didn’t even look at him—he just delivered a hard, two handed shove to Steve’s chest that sent him stumbling back.

“Bucky, enough—”

“You’ve been an asshole to me from the minute I arrived,” you said, your voice uncontrollably shaky as you fought to keep from sobbing. “And you’re upset because my dad didn’t keep in touch with you. I get that! I do! B-but none of that is my fault, Bucky! That shouldn’t be a valid reason to hate me!”

“You’re right, it’s not your fault,” he hissed. He leaned closer, and you could smell the whiskey.

“But it is your fault you’re here. If you were half as independent as you claim to be, you wouldn’t have come crawlin’ to two men you haven’t seen since you were in fuckin’ pigtails.”

He stood up straight, letting out a heavy, annoyed breath.

“We were doin’ just fine with just the two of us before you showed up and started makin’ us feel like we owed you somethin’.”

Your brows, which had been furrowed in anger, slowly softened as his words punched you right in the gut. Your shoulders deflated, and all the fight drained out of you, leaving only a cold, hollow ache.

He didn’t just want the guys at the bar to stay away.

He wanted you away.

Steve, standing just behind him, could only stare at his friend with wide, horrified eyes. There was clearly history there—some old wound Bucky was reopening—because there was no other reason to be this cruel. You realized then that you were just a nuisance to him. An immature girl with a silly dream of traveling the world who had simply chosen the wrong first stop. You were an interloper in their already established life.

Looking down and finally breaking eye contact, you reached up and lifted Bucky’s hat off your head. You shoved it hard against his chest, catching him off guard. Bucky stumbled back a step, his fingers instinctively curling around the brim, crumpling the felt beneath his hands as he caught it.

“You want me to go?” you whispered, your voice cracking painfully. “Fine. I’ll leave. I’ll get my things and I’ll be out of your house—and your life—by morning.”

Your eyes were blurry as you looked past Bucky’s shoulder, sniffling as you called out for Steve.

“Will you take me back?” you asked, the words barely a breath. “I need to… I need to repack.”

Steve swallowed hard, the guilt on his face agonizing to look at. “Of course,” he nodded, his voice softening instantly. “Come on, sweetheart. I’ll take you home.”

He walked around the truck, and you didn’t give Bucky even one last glance as you stepped around him. Steve held the passenger door open, helping you in with a steady hand. Once he made sure you were settled, he walked back around the front of the truck, stopping in front of Bucky with a look of cold disappointment.

“You need to fuckin’ calm down, man,” Steve whisper yelled. He gestured angrily toward the truck—toward you. “Find your own ride home, ‘cause this—all of this—is unacceptable.”

Bucky didn’t lift his head. He didn’t even try fighting back. He just stood there, staring down at the scuffed leather of his boots, his hat shielding his broken eyes as the realization of what he’d just done—of what he just said, finally began to settle in the cold, dusty air.

As the truck started and you and Steve drove off, you glanced at Bucky one last time through the side mirror. You saw him standing there in the red glow of the taillights, staring down at the hat in his hands—the one you’d just shoved back at him.

He looked at it longingly before shouting outloud to himself—angry and broken.

“Fuck!”

The entire ride back to their house was suffocatingly silent. It was clear that there were a lot of things Steve wanted to say to you, but the words wouldn’t find him.

When you finally made it back, you crossed the front door with Steve trailing cautiously behind you. Steve let out a long, tired sigh, shutting the door softly as you immediately started toward Bucky’s room to gather your things.

“You’re not actually goin’ to leave us, are you?”

You frowned, though Steve couldn’t see it with your back turned to him. “He hates me, Steve. I’m…” your voice shook as you stared down the hallway. “There’s no space for me here. I shouldn’t have turned up on your doorstep with no warning. He was right—I shouldn’t have come.”

You continued down the hall and into Bucky’s room while Steve followed at a respectful distance. You knelt in the middle of the room as you began shoving your clothes back into your suitcase.

Steve let out a low groan as he knelt down next to you. He reached out, running a hand up and down your back in a slow, soothing motion, trying to comfort you.

“Honey, he… he didn’t mean any of that,” he said. He swallowed hard, realizing how ridiculous that might’ve sounded to you. “Buck’s a guy that’s rough around the edges. Always has been. When he lashes out like that, it just means he cares. He doesn’t know how to handle feelin’ like this.”

“He cares?” you let out a small, incredulous laugh that felt more like a sob. “He doesn’t care about me, Steve. The only thing he cares about is me being out of his hair.”

You picked up another piece of clothing, your shoulders slumping as your eyes began to fill with hot, frustrated tears. You kept your head down, chin tucked toward your chest. You refused to let Steve see you like this before he started thinking you were just a helpless kid, too. Just like Bucky said.

You stood up and reached for a shirt left on the bed, a broken sniffle escaping you as you tried to fold the fabric with trembling hands.

Steve’s heart felt weak in his chest at the sound. He got up, stepping behind you and resting a steady hand on your back. He leaned down, trying to meet your eyes and gently pushing a stray lock of hair out of your face.

When he finally saw a tear roll down your cheek, he looked absolutely destroyed.

“Oh, baby. No, no... come here,” he murmured softly. He wrapped two strong arms around you, pulling you firmly into his chest.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Being in the comfort of something so warm after being faced with such coldness was enough to send the tears flowing freely. Your arms came up weakly to hug him back, your face buried against his shirt as you cried.

“He’s got a heart like a bruised fist,” Steve whispered into your hair, his chest rumbling against your ear. “And he doesn’t know how to open it without hurting someone. But you aren’t a nuisance, and you sure as hell aren’t helpless. I’m gonna have a talk with him, and you’re gonna stay here and enjoy the rest of your trip—with us.”

You sniffled, clutching the front of his shirt. “I can’t stay where I’m not wanted, Steve.”

Steve slowly guided you down onto the edge of the bed without letting go.

“Sit with me, sweetheart. Just for a minute,” he urged gently, his voice low and steady.

You sank onto the quilt, the fabric bunching under you as Steve sat right beside you. He pulled you back into the crook of his arm, tucking you in so your head rested on his shoulder. He took one of your hands in his, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles in a soothing motion to stop your shaking.

“I need you to listen to me for a second. Can you do that?”

You nodded against his chest as his fingers began to trace your back tenderly.

“I want you here, and believe me, Bucky does too. Hell, does he want you here.” He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as he tried to lighten the mood. “Earlier today, when he caught you wearin’ his hat... he would not stop talkin’ ‘bout it. Said you looked better in it than he ever did.”

You lifted your head slightly, wiping your nose with the back of your hand as you looked up at him. “Really?”

“Really,” Steve promised, a small smile playing on his lips. “Called you pretty and all that, but don’t tell him I said it.”

Steve’s expression softened even further, his gaze turning intense as he looked down at you. He reached up, his large hand cupping your cheek as he used his thumb to brush the last of the dampness from your skin. He pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch warm against your skin as his finger trailed down, tracing over the curve of your bottom lip.

“And he’s right,” Steve murmured deeply, making your body shiver. “Who wouldn’t go a little insane over a girl as beautiful as you?”

Your face felt warm, and you couldn’t tell if it was the remnant of your tears or from the intense way Steve was staring at you.

“Steve…” you whispered, your breath hitching as you felt his thumb graze your lips again.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, relishing the way his name sounded on your tongue. “You know, your dad told us to take good care of you when you arrived. And now, here you are, cryin’ in Bucky’s bed and packin’ your bags.” He muttered, leaning in until his hot breath ghosted over your face. “We’re not doin’ a very good job now, are we?”

Steve applied pressure to your bottom lip, dragging it down to reveal the wet flesh. “I think I’d like to do a much better job,” he whispered, his eyes dropping to your mouth and staying there. “Starting now.”

You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, your tears shimmering like glass against the warm glow of the lamp. Steve let out a low, pained groan at the sight of you—so vulnerable, and yet so devastatingly inviting.

“God… you really are so beautiful,” he rasped.

With his gaze fixed on your mouth, he pushed his thumb past the seal of your lips, his finger pressing firmly against your tongue. It was unexpected—it was wrong for a ‘family friend’ to be doing this—but you couldn’t help your eyes fluttering shut instinctively. Without thinking, you sucked on his thumb, the heat of your mouth swirling around his skin.

Steve’s entire body went rigid. You were so accepting of him, so eager for the comfort he was offering, and he should’ve expected it—because you were a good girl, after all.

“Christ, baby,” he breathed, his voice slightly cracking.

Steve watched with hooded eyes as your lips moved against him, the way your tongue flicked around his digit. If it felt this good with just a finger, he could only imagine the wreck you’d make of him with his cock buried in your mouth instead.

With your eyes still shut, you heard him let out a deep, jagged groan as he shifted his weight on the bed. Your eyes fluttered open, and your gaze fell directly onto the obvious bulge straining against his denim. It was heavy and prominent, twitching as it jumped for your attention.

You blinked up at him, your breath hitching as your eyes met his again.

The idea of arousing a man so much older than you—someone so wise and experienced in his years—gave you a thrill that should’ve sparked guilt. This was your father’s friend, a man meant to be your protector, but for some reason, the wrongness of it only made the heat in your stomach burn hotter.

Clenching your legs, your mouth continued to explore his thumb. Your hand came up against his thick forearm, holding him steady as you swirled your tongue, tasting the salt on his skin as you watched him watch you with hungry eyes.

Steve was trembling under your touch, his breath coming in shallow pants.

Then, his eyes lifted past yours, landing on something—someone at the doorframe.

“Bucky,” Steve panted.

Your eyes went wide. You immediately popped Steve’s thumb out of your mouth, a thread of saliva breaking from his finger as you whipped your head toward the door.

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice was deep, almost broken, as his eyes flickered from his best friend to you. “Sam gave me a ride home,” he explained, his voice low as he took a slow, predatory step toward the two of you on the bed.

In that moment, you wished you’d just packed and begged Steve to drive you straight to the airport. Bucky’s expression was dark and unreadable, his eyes shadowed beneath the brim of his hat—you couldn’t tell if he was about to explode or crumble.

You were expecting him to yell. You expected him to drag you by the arm, kick you out the front door, and hurl your luggage after you.

But he didn’t.

He just stood over you, the hat you’d borrowed gripped so tight in his hand that the felt was beginning to crush. You swallowed hard as you met his gaze. You should’ve been terrified, but you couldn’t deny the lingering arousal Steve had sparked in you.

Because right now, with the way Bucky was looking at you... it was almost like you wanted to be hurt by him.

“Bucky… I—”

Slowly, Bucky reached out. You flinched, expecting a rough shove, but his hand was surprisingly gentle as he hooked two fingers under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back. He stared at your mouth, his eyes tracking the wet shine of saliva on your bottom lip.

“You tell me you’re packin’ your bags, and just when I think you’ll finally leave me alone, I come home and find you suckin’ on my best friend’s thumb like a baby?”

You glanced at Steve out of the corner of your eye, desperate for some sort of backup. But instead, you found Steve staring intensely at Bucky’s lap. Your eyes followed his, and a small gasp escaped at what you saw.

You didn’t know how long Bucky had been standing in that doorway watching you two, but the undeniable erection straining against his jeans told you he’d seen more than enough.

“Answer me,” Bucky hissed. He gave your cheeks a firm squeeze, the pressure forcing your lips to pout and making you look back up at him. “You want to stay so bad?” he whispered, leaning down until his nose brushed against yours. “You want to be taken care of by us, don’t you?”

After seeing the physical reaction Bucky had from watching you and Steve, and despite being pinned beneath him, you felt emboldened.

“… Do you want me to stay?” you whispered, refusing to break eye contact. “Do you want to take care of me, Bucky?”

Bucky’s expression went completely flat. He released your face and set your hat down on the quilt.

“Steve’s a gentleman,” Bucky said, gravelly and raspy. “He’ll give you a shoulder to cry on and tell you everythin’ is gonna be alright. But if you’re gonna stay in this house, under my roof, you’re gonna have to deal with me, too. And I don’t play as nice as he does.”

Steve’s hand slowly crept over your thigh, giving the soft skin a firm, possessive squeeze as he leaned in. His eyes cut up toward Bucky, challenging him.

“She thinks you don’t care ‘bout her, Buck,” Steve murmured, his voice low and raspy against your ear. “I think our girl here wants to see firsthand how much you do.”

Ours.

Bucky’s pupils flared at the word, his gaze dropping to where Steve’s fingers were digging into your skin and trailing up the hem of your skirt. He scoffed—a hard, bitter laugh that sounded more like a growl.

“Is that right?”

Steve’s hand bunched the fabric upward, his rough knuckles grazing your skin until the material pooled around your hips. He nudged your shoulders, urging you to lean back against the pillows until you were splayed open before them, revealing the thin cotton panties Bucky had caught a glimpse of earlier when he’d walked in on you changing.

Bucky’s breath hitched, his eyes locking onto the pale fabric. It was just as he remembered—except now, a dark, damp patch was blooming in the center, hinting your arousal.

“You know…” Steve began, his voice teasing as he looked up at Bucky’s tortured expression. “Bucky here was talkin’ reeaal dirty about you earlier, darlin’. You just didn’t know it.”

You shuddered, your eyes—half-lidded—glanced up at Bucky. You expected him to deny it, but all you saw was his slack jaw and the way his hand was mindlessly rubbing at the ache in his jeans.

“He told me how he wanted to pin those wrists of yours above your head,” Steve whispered, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. “Said he wanted to see if you’d make those same sweet little sounds if he was buried deep inside you instead of just yellin’ at you and bein’ mean to you...”

You gasped softly, your face flaming.

It was as if Bucky couldn't even hear him— the blood was thumping so loud in his ears he could only focus on the sight of you. His knee hit the mattress, the bed dipping as he crawled between your legs, looming over the damp cotton of your panties.

“And that’s not even the best part,” Steve continued, his hand moving to the waistband of your panties, his thumb hooking just inside the elastic. “He told me he wanted to mark you so bad your daddy wouldn’t even recognize you. Wanted to leave his teeth marks all over these pretty thighs just so everyone knew exactly who you belonged to.”

Steve’s gaze shifted back to you, his eyes heavy and half-lidded. He leaned in closer, his thumb tugging slightly at the elastic of your panties, revealing your mound to Bucky’s gaze.

“But then you had to go on and get on that bull,” he muttered, his breath hot against your cheek. “Showin’ yourself off to everyone. That’s not a good girl now, is it?”

A little mewl left your lips, and Steve chuckled—amused by your lack of response.

Bucky let out a low groan. He couldn’t take the talking anymore. His hands went to his waist, fumbling the buckle of his belt as he undid it with trembling fingers. His eyes were glued at to the damp center of your cotton panties, just begging to be licked and touched by him.

“Remove her panties, Stevie,” Bucky ordered desperately.

Steve’s eyes darkened instantly. His thumb stilled at your panties, and he looked up at Bucky, his expression shifting from teasing to territorial.

“You’ve been on thin ice all night, Buck,” Steve countered, the raspy warning of his voice making you shiver. His thumb slowly trailed down against the cotton, rubbing at the damp spot against your clit. “You better ask me real nice if you want me to share.”

You held your breath, bracing yourself as you expected him to snap—to lunge at Steve or roar in frustration at being told what to do in his own house.

But instead, Bucky’s shoulders slumped, his lips curving into a pained, desperate frown. He ducked his head, finally pulling off his hat and dropping it blindly to the floor. His dark, messy hair fell over his eyes as he stared at your lap, his chest heaving.

It was a jarring sight—the man who had been yelling at you in the parking lot was now physically shaking with the need for Steve’s approval.

“Please,” Bucky choked out in pain.

Steve kept his thumb pressing firmly against the damp cotton over your clit, circling it slowly, making you gasp and arch your hips up into his hand.

“Please what, Buck?” Steve prompted calmly.

Bucky’s breath hitched, a broken sound leaving his throat as he finally looked up. His blue eyes, usually so gruff and distant, were glassy and pleading. He looked like a man starving, and you were the only meal in sight.

“Please, Stevie… let me see her,” Bucky begged in a desperate whimper. “Let me have her. I’m sorry. Just… please take ‘em off. I’ll be good.”

Steve hummed, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. He looked down at you, his thumb never ceasing that slow rub against your slit, making the damp cotton cling to your skin with every pass.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Steve asked. “You want Bucky to make it up to you?”

You looked from Steve’s calm, commanding face to Bucky, who was still kneeling between your legs, trembling. His eyes were wide, glued on the movement of Steve’s thumb, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips as he waited for your verdict.

The difference in how he’s acting was dizzying—Bucky, the man who had spent the day pushing you away with cold glares was now hanging on your every word.

But after how he’d treated you, you weren't ready to let him off the hook.

You almost felt bad for what you were going to say next.

“I don’t know, Stevie,” you taunted, using Bucky’s nickname for Steve against him. “I don’t think he deserves it.”

Bucky’s face went from pleading to almost murderous in a heartbeat. A low growl ripped from his throat as he lunged forward, his hand snapping out to grab the hem of your panties.

“What did you just say—”

Before he could even tug the fabric down, Steve’s hand shot out. His fingers wrapped around Bucky’s forearm, forcing him to halt.

“You heard the lady, Buck,” Steve warned, his voice turning cold and authoritative. “You don’t deserve it. Not yet.”

Bucky looked up, his chest heaving as he stared at Steve with wide, disbelieving eyes. “W-what?”

“I’m gonna have my turn with her,” Steve declared. He released Bucky's arm, his hand sliding instead to your waist to pull you flush against his chest, claiming you in front of him. “And you’re going to be good and watch.”

You didn't even have time to process Bucky’s shock before Steve’s rough hands were threading through your hair. He fisted the strands to tilt your head back, pulling you flush against his chest as his lips crashed onto yours. His tongue pushed past your teeth, deep and demanding, intertwining with yours as he drank you in like a man dying of thirst.

Your mind spun, caught in a dizzying haze of desire.

You had never been kissed with such need, much less by a man twice your age, whose experience and strength made you feel so small and claimed.

“Fuck,” you heard Bucky groan, the curse followed by the rattle of a belt being yanked through loops and the friction of denim being pushed down.

Steve ground his hips against your leg, the hardness making you ache for more. Your only coherent thought was the desperate wish that he’d follow suit—that he’d also strip out of those jeans and let you feel him properly.

Moaning softly against Steve’s lips, you couldn’t help but peek your eyes opening, flickering over to Bucky.

He was kneeling at the edge of the bed, his face grimaced into tortured longing. One hand was fisted tightly around his cock, stroking in a frantic, uneven rhythm, while his other fingers were clutching the bedsheets as he watched you being devoured by his best friend.

Bucky was being good—doing exactly as Steve had instructed. But the second Steve spread your legs wider, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and peeling them down to reveal your wet cunt, Bucky felt the last of his restraint snap.

He squeezed his dick hard, a mewl—or a whimper—escaped his throat.

“Steve, please,” he begged, the words ragged with pain as he stroked himself faster, his breath coming in short, shallow hitches. “I’m… I’m so hard. I can’t take it anymore.”

Steve ignored him. His lips never left yours as his own hands found his belt, the metallic of the buckle and the slide of the zipper echoing through the room, only making Bucky more agitated.

Desperate to hear more of Bucky crumbling apart for you, you trailed your hand up your side, cupping your own breast through the fabric of your dress and squeezing. You didn’t even need to open your eyes to know his reaction—you could hear the air being punched out of his lungs.

“Fuck, look at her—look at that little slut,” Bucky groaned, the mattress dipping and groaning as he scooted closer, unable to keep his distance a second longer. “She’s askin’ for it now. Steve, tell me she's askin’ for it.”

Steve sat up, the bed creaking under his weight as he freed himself from his jeans. He wrapped a thick hand around his cock, giving it a few heavy strokes that had your eyes widening.

He was big. And you weren’t sure how it was going to fit.

He leaned forward, the head of his cock probing against your entrance, smearing your own slickness back and forth over your sensitive folds. He was teasing you, pushing just a fraction of an inch inside before pulling back, over and over, until you were arching off the back in a desperate attempt for friction.

“Are you seein’ this, Buck?” Steve murmured, his eyes watching Bucky’s face, watching his best friend’s eyes trace over every wet, sliding movement of his cock against your skin. “Look at how she’s openin’ up for me.”

It was pure torture for Bucky, but it was agonizing for you, too. Your hands fisted the sheets as you tried to tilt your pelvis up to catch him, but Steve held you firmly in place with his free hand on your hip.

“Steve, please,” you whimpered, your voice breaking.

Steve let out a dark, amused chuckle, his gaze still locked on Bucky—whose hand was moving in a blurred frenzy against his own cock. “You hear that, Buck? She wants it so bad. She wants me to take care of her.”

Bucky let out a strangled sound. “I hear her, Stevie. God, I hear her. Let me… let me help. Please let me hold her while you fuck her.”

You tilted your head back, your hair spilling across the pillows as you looked up at Bucky. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign that you would finally let him in after the way he’d treated you.

“Hold me, Bucky.”

Bucky sucked in a breath, his hand pausing at his cock as he glanced at Steve, waiting for the final word.

Steve gave him a sharp, single nod. “Come here, Buck,” Steve commanded, his voice thick and low. “Hold her while I fuck her.”

The mattress dipped violently as Bucky scrambled forward, crawling up the bed urgently. He didn’t just touch you—he cradled you, gently lifting your head onto his lap. His hands came up to frame your face, and you could feel his slick fingers from his pre-cum trail your face.

You stared up at him, breathless and upside down, as he loomed over you, breathing heavy at the sight of you desperate for them.

“Jesus,” Bucky breathed, his pupils so blown they’d nearly swallowed the blue of his irises. “So fuckin’ beautiful up close, too.”

Steve leaned forward, his large hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he finally guided himself in. Your mouth dropped into an o-shape as he pushed in slowly, his thick cock stretching you inch by inch. You let out a sharp wince, your back arching off Bucky’s lap as he forced your walls to accommodate him.

Bucky’s face scrunched into a pained expression—as if he were feeling every bit of the stretch you were.

“I know, baby doll—I know,” he whispered, his voice broken. “He’s so big, ain’t he?”

You nodded, eyes watering as you looked up at him. “So big…”

Bucky’s cock was twitching beneath you, his pre-cum leaking and trailing along your skin as he watched his best friend’s length disappear in and out of your wet cunt.

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned. “Need… need to feel somethin’ too, baby doll.”

Shifting his hips, he laid you flat on the bed and shuffled to the side of your head, his cock springing free as he knelt beside you. His fist returned to his length, his thumb swiping over the tip to smear his pre-cum over the swollen head.

“Bucky…” you breathed, your body jolting as Steve buried his full length into you. “W-what are you—”

Your words were cut off as Bucky’s salt slicked tip rubbed against the curve of your lips—still puffy and sensitized from Steve. A low, ragged groan escaped him at the contact with your mouth.

“Need… need somethin’ warm and tight,” Bucky hissed through clenched teeth, his control evaporated. “Can’t take it anymore.”

Bucky glanced at Steve, who watched him with heavy, half-lidded eyes. “I ain’t waitin’ anymore,” Bucky snapped defiantly. “Punish me later for all I fuckin’ care. I need to fuck her mouth.”

Inside you, you felt Steve’s cock twitch at the mention of his friend’s own punishment.

“Careful,” Steve warned, his breath hitching. “Go easy on her, Buck. She’s so—fuck, she’s so tight down here… I don’t know if she can take you all the way in her mouth either.”

Despite the warning, Steve was very much losing the battle for his own control. His grip on your hips were tight, forcing himself to maintain that slow, agonizingly deep movement even as his own body screamed to pick up the pace and fuck you ruthlessly.

“I don’t give a damn,” Bucky grunted.

He fisted his hand in your hair, giving it a harsh, possessive tug to tilt your head back toward his lap. He slapped his cock against your lips, the wet, heavy sound of it making you wince as his masculine scent filled your lungs.

“Open up,” he ordered, his pupils so blown with lust that his eyes looked like bottomless black pits.

Your cunt clenched tighter around Steve as Bucky’s tip parted your lips to let himself in. His thick length dragged past your teeth and along your tongue, sliding deep until he hit the back of your throat. You let out a muffled, helpless choke around him—a sound that only made Bucky groan, his head tossing back in visceral pleasure.

“Thaaat’s it,” he cooed with a rasp. He drew his hips back slowly, letting you catch your breath for a split second before rocking hard against your face again. “Breathe through your nose, baby doll. Just take it.”

Bucky began to move, his movements were frantic and messy compared to Steve’s slow and easy rhythm inside you.

“Look at him, sweetheart,” Steve rumbled, his voice dropping condescending. “Look at how pathetic he is. After all that growlin’ and actin’ like a big man earlier, here he is now…”

You blinked through a haze of tears, watching as Bucky’s face scrunched in pure, agonizing pleasure. His forehead wrinkles were deeply lined, his eyes rolling back as his thrusts against your mouth became sloppier, driven by pure needy instinct.

Strings of saliva and drool slicked your chin, dripping down to the base of his cock with every frantic thrust. Every time your lips made wet, heavy contact with his heavy slicked balls, Bucky let out a deep, raspy groan that vibrated through your tongue—a sound so primal it made you clench even harder around Steve.

“Christ,” Steve moaned, his head dropping as his pace finally fractured faster and more desperate. “She’s squeezin’ me, Buck.”

Bucky huffed a shaky, dark laugh, his fingers tightening in your hair to hold you steady. “You like this, don’t you?” he grunted, looking down at your tear streaked face. “Bein’ used by your daddy’s two best friends. Shit... we’re supposed to be watchin’ over you. Keepin’ you safe. But instead, we’re just ruinin’ you.”

“Old enough to be her father,” Steve agreed with a rough, mocking laugh. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, tilting your hips up to plunge even deeper, his thick length stretching you to your absolute limit.

“Now look at her. She’s ‘sposed to call us uncle, and now she’s got your cock in her mouth and mine stuffed deep in her cunt. She’s a filthy little thing, ain’t she?”

Bucky’s cock pulsed deep in your mouth after Steve’s filthy words registered. Your face was hot with shame, but you didn't care. The room reeled with the scent of sex and Bucky’s masculine musk, and all you wanted was to be filled by these two older men.

“Fuck—her daddy’s gonna kill us,” Bucky gasped as your tongue flicked against the sensitive underside of his head. “But I don’t fuckin’ care. It feels too good to stop.”

Steve’s thumb pressed against your sensitive clit, making you arch your back and muffle useless moans around Bucky’s cock. You felt like you were getting close—with the filthy words that they were both spurring, mixed with moans and grunts filling the air—it was becoming too much.

Your walls fluttered around Steve, and he barked out a rough laugh. “Fuck, she’s cummin’ all over my cock!”

“You know what that means, Stevie.” Bucky groaned, his dark eyes meeting his. “Means she’s beggin’ you to breed her. Beggin’ you to put your cum where it doesn't belong.”

You let out a broken whine, your vision blurring as your orgasm ripped through you. You came hard, sobbing around Bucky’s cock as Steve continued to piston into you like a rabid animal, uncaring of your sensitive state.

“Yeah?” Steve moaned, his thrusts turning sloppy and heavy as his own release caught up. “Shit—I think you’re right, Buck. I'm gonna fill her up.”

Your father had practically sent you into a den of wolves, leaving you to fend for yourself against men who had been starving. Steve and Bucky pawed at your body with a desperate hunger, the sounds leaving their throats sounding less like men and more like animals scenting prey.

Steve’s hips began to rut against yours uncontrollably, his breathing turning into a series of uneven, jagged hitches. He buried himself as deep as he could go, his cock throbbing violently against your cervix before he finally snapped. You let out a muffled cry as he came, a heavy, searing stream of cum flooding your overstimulated flesh, filling you until you felt like you were overflowing.

You saw Bucky’s balls draw up tight against your lips, , and as his fist tightened in your hair, you knew he was about to cum, too.

“That’s right,” Bucky encouraged, his voice dry. “Fill her up, Stevie. Make sure she’s spillin’ over with your cum, and then I’m gonna finish inside her, too.”

Bucky’s cock popped out of your mouth with a wet, sloppy sound, leaving a string of saliva trailing down your chin. Before you could even draw a full breath, Steve was pulling out of you, the sudden absence of his heat leaving you feeling cold and hollow for a split second.

But you didn’t stay empty for long.

“S-Steve?” you whimpered.

Bucky shuffled around the mattress as Steve moved to the side to make room. Bucky scrambled into the space between your thighs where Steve once was, his face dark and distorted with hunger. He wrapped his hand around his cock—now red, angry, and pulsing—and rubbed the head up and down your slit, slicking himself through the mess Steve had left behind.

A thick, pearly blend of his best friend’s seed and your own wetness coated the entire length of him. Bucky groaned at the sight, the friction of Steve’s fluids making him growl.

Using your arms to weakly prop yourself up, your stared at Bucky wide-eyed.

“Bucky… I—”

“You’re gonna be a good girl for him now,” Steve interrupted. He wasn’t asking. He was demanding.

With a heavy breath, Bucky guided himself against your entrance and pushed past the tightness, your walls enveloping him just as it did with Steve, except it was more intense this time.

“Oh my god—!” your eyes bulged wide, your breath leaving your lungs.

Bucky was thicker—and with your pussy already so raw and overstimulated, the feeling of him claiming that space was overwhelming. You were stretched deliciously, every nerve ending burned as he buried himself to the hilt.

“Look at you,” Bucky rasped, a shameful, shaky laugh bubbling in his chest as his lungs burned.

“God—when I found out…” he rocked his hips into you, Steve’s leftover seed making a wet, squelching sound. “…your daddy was gonna have a baby girl—shit, I was so ready to take care of you. I promised I’d be there for you, for Christ’s sake.”

He grabbed both of your legs, lifting them high and urging you to lock them around his waist so he could get even deeper.

“I never thought I’d be balls deep inside his precious girl.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Steve lectured, his voice mocking. He gave himself slow, lazy strokes over his half-hard cock, his eyes stuck on the way your entrance was struggling to accommodate Bucky’s thickness.

“You should be beggin’ her father for forgiveness right now. But she feels too good, doesn’t she?”

Bucky growled, his eyes glassing over as he watched his thick length disappear in and out of your wet, stretched out heat.

“Hell yeah, she does.” He met your eyes now. “You’re so much tighter than a girl your age ‘ought to be for dirty, old men like us. You were made to be ruined, weren’t you, baby doll?”

You looked up at Bucky, and the sight of him between your legs—his composure fraying and completely undone, made your head spin with a dizzying rush of power.

“Bucky,” you panted, eyes half-lidded as you held his hungry gaze. “I want you to forget who my father is. I want to be the reason you can never look him in the eye again.” You swallowed hard, your fingers digging into the mattress. “Fill me up just like Stevie did… show me how much you really want to take care of me.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide, his pupils swallowing the blue as he processed the absolute, unadulterated filth coming from the girl he was sworn to protect.

Steve huffed a laugh, already feeling his cock twitch at your words. “Jesus—this girl…”

He had been close to bursting when he was in your mouth, but now, being swallowed by your tight pussy while those dirty words rang in his ears, it was too fucking much. His cock trembled and pulsed in a final, violent act of betrayal against his conscience.

He was close. Too fucking close.

“You little…” Bucky choked out, his voice failing him.

He grabbed your hips together, pulling you impossibly closer until the tip of his cock kissed your cervix.

“Fine,” he hissed, face scrunching in pleasure. “You want me to fill you up? I’ll fuckin’ knock you up, doll. You’re gonna carry my mess and Stevie’s all the way back home, and you’re gonna smile at your daddy while our cum is leakin’ out of you.”

The words were like a match to a fuse.

Between the wet slap of his thighs against yours and the rough sounds of his heavy breathing, you hit another breaking point. Your walls began to spasm, tightening down on him so hard that it made Bucky’s head roll back.

“Bucky… I—ah!”

Your pussy clenched almost painfully around Bucky’s cock. Even after the fucking Steve gave you, you were still so tight—and cumming again while Bucky was still buried deep made him grind his teeth together, his jaw clenching as he fucked you right through your second climax.

“Steve,” Bucky gasped as he fought to hold back his own release for just a second longer. “Steve, she’s—fuck, she’s goin’ again.”

Steve grinned, leaning over Bucky’s trembling shoulder. His large hand reached around your waist, overlapping Bucky’s grip, while his other palm rested on Bucky’s lower back—pushing him even deeper.

“That’s it, Buck,” Steve rumbled against Bucky’s ear. “Don’t you dare pull out. You put it right where I put mine. Got it?”

Bucky hissed, his hips moving in a frantic, uneven stutter as he felt himself unwinding. “Fu-fuck, okay—I’ll cum inside, just like you told me to—shit!”

He bottomed out completely, his entire body locking into a rigid arch. “Fuck!”

His length pulsed violently inside you—his cock streaming thick, hot ropes of heat into your overstimulated cunt. He was absolutely flooding you, his seed mixing with Steve’s and filling you until you felt heavy and stretched to the brim.

“Oh my god,” Bucky breathed, his chest heaving as he gave your hip a final, possessive squeeze. He looked down, taking in the sight of how completely debauched you looked. “I… shit. That felt too damn good.”

“Good boy,” Steve praised softly, his hand moving to stroke Bucky’s damp hair before his eyes dropped to the messy, wet junction of your thighs. “Look at that. She’s so full of us.”

Steve leaned down, gently pushing a stray hair out of your sweaty face. He gave you a soft, boyish smile—one that looked entirely too innocent given his age and the brutal way they had just had their way with you.

“Now, you’re not still thinkin’ about leavin’ us, are you?”

Bucky’s jaw remained slack, his chest heaving in heavy breaths as he stared down at you.

“No,” he rasped. “She ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You could barely process their words. Your head felt light, and your limbs turning to jelly against the damp, sweaty sheets. The air in the room was stifling—heavy with the scent of sex and musk. Every time you tried to draw a full breath, your lungs felt weighted, and your eyelids began to flutter, growing heavy.

Steve and Bucky stayed right where they were, hovering over you like two twin peaks of heat and muscle.

“Aww, look at her,” Steve cooed, his voice dropping tenderly yet still mocking. He reached out, his calloused thumb gently brushing a tear off your cheek. “The little baby’s fallin’ asleep on us, Buck.”

“I know,” Bucky breathed, his body finally beginning to soften inside you, yet he still refused to pull out—anchored in place as your body began to shut down. “We put her through a lot today. When she wakes up, we should…—”

Bucky’s voice trailed off into a low, indistinct murmur as your eyelids finally failed you. The room faded into a hazy blur.

With your body overstimulated, heavy, and utterly spent, the only thing you could think of—the only thought that managed to pierce through the fog of exhaustion—was how the hell you were ever going to explain this to your dad.

thank you so much for taking the time to read my work! this is my longest fic ever, and i tried my best to proofread as much as i can so apologize for any mistakes. and in case you haven't noticed, yes, the fic title is inspired by the song tennessee whiskey!

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[superbassbuck]

runnin' down the road, loosen my load

pairing: farmer!bucky barnes x city girl!reader x farmer!steve rogers

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, threesome, pining, alcohol, banter, touch starved stucky, sexual tension, lots of pent-up sexual frustration, the boys are clingy attention whores, manipulation (they want you to stay), breeding kink, oral (m receiving), size diff, m!masturbation, overstimulation, jealousy, degrading, praising, dirty talk, pet names: "pretty girl" "sweetheart" "darlin'" "baby"

word count: 18k masterlist

a/n: what's better than one touch starved farmer boy? TWO touch starved farmer boys who are best friends!!!!! it gets kind of dark at the end (steve and buck are desperate.) so please tread carefully.

synopsis: Bucky and Steve live in a town filled with an endless stretch of green, animals, and their only company is other strong men and elderly women. When an attractive, young woman visits town for a research project, the touch-deprived boys can't help but want to play with the new piece of candy.

Steve threw the last log onto the flatbed of the good ol’ truck, a thing that had seen more rust than oil changes in its life.

“That should be the last of it,” he announced from the back, closing the tailgate and giving it a solid slap to make sure it held. “Start her up, Buck.”

Bucky turned back to the wheel and twisted the key in the ignition. The truck answered with a loud rumble before sputtering out. He tried again, resulting in another shake that rattled the cab, and then… nothing.

Steve came up to the driver’s window, resting an arm on the sill as he wiped sweat from his face with a dirty towel.

“Lucy’s not startin’?”

“Does she ever?” Bucky sneered, turning the key once more as the truck grumbled in protest. “I thought you were supposed to look her over last night.”

“I was—then I got a call to round up some loose, wild chickens. After that I got sidetracked, and, uh…” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, guilty. “I fell asleep.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Perfect.”

“Hey,” Steve said, nudging his shoulder roughly through the window. “While I was being productive last night, maybe you could’ve spent that time fixing her up instead of jerking off.”

Bucky shoved the door open without warning, forcing Steve to stumble aside. He gave him a sharp side-eye glare.

“I was not jerking off,” he muttered, heading for the front of the truck and popping the hood to peer into the engine.

Steve barked out a laugh as he stepped up beside him, clamping a heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You keep tellin’ yourself that. The walls are paper thin, you know?”

“Shut up,” Bucky mumbled with a flushed face. He reached down, jiggled the loose battery cable, then tightened the clamp with a huff.

“All right,” he said, wiping his hands on his dirty jeans. “Try it now.”

“You sure that’ll—”

“Just get in the damn truck, Steve.”

With a shrug, Steve climbed back into the cab and turned the key. The engine coughed in front of Bucky, then rumbled to life, making the whole truck shaky but steadily idle.

Steve grinned out the open window. “Well, would you look at that. It’s our lucky day.”

“And we don’t get much of those,” Bucky agreed, not wasting a second as he slammed the hood shut and jogged around to the passenger side, yanking the door open.

“Don’t admire her too much now,” he warned, climbing in. “Start drivin’ before it gives out and we have to push this damn thing ourselves again.”

The truck rattled its way down the dirt road, tires crunching over gravel as the town came into view—if you could even call it that. The ‘town’ had a handful of weather-beaten buildings, a leaning water tower, and more livestock than people. Chickens scattered as Steve eased off the gas, the engine making a suspiciously loud noise that couldn’t even be ignored if they turned the radio up higher.

Fury’s place sat at the center of it all. A squat, sturdy building that had once been a general store several years ago, then a post office, and now served as whatever the town needed it to be. Meetings, supplies, paperwork.

Basically, everything important that no one else wanted to deal with.

A faded sign out front still read “COMMUNITY OFFICE,” though half the letters were missing.

“Made it,” Steve said, turning the engine off as he glanced at Bucky with a smile. “Told you Lucy had one more trip in her.”

“One,” Bucky huffed, hopping out. “Don’t get greedy.”

They climbed onto the flatbed and started unloading, tossing logs into a neat pile beside the building. The door creaked open halfway through, and Fury stepped out, cane in one hand. His good eye flicked over the truck, the wood, then the two of them.

“You’re late,” he said calmly.

Steve lifted his head as he tossed another log. “Truck trouble.”

Fury snorted. “That truck is trouble.” He eyed the woodpile with approval, though. “Still—this’ll last us through winter if rationed right. The town owes you.”

Bucky threw another log. “Town’s been owing us a while.”

Fury shifted his weight, tapping the end of his cane against one of the logs. “When you’re done,” he said, already turning back toward the door, “I’m gonna need you boys to come inside and sign the delivery papers. Wood tally, fuel credit, the usual nonsense.”

They both gave each other a look. Anything involving paperwork, pencils, and pens was well outside their familiar territory. Their comfort zone was muscles, strength, and work done with their bare hands.

The boys were… really good with their hands.

They finished stacking the last of the logs in relative silence, the only sounds being the dull thud of wood and the distant lowing of cattle.

Steve hopped down from the flatbed and dusted off his hands. “You ready, Buck?”

“Ready to skim the papers and not read a word of it?” Bucky wiped his hands on the dirty towel before tossing it through the open passenger window. “Sure.”

Inside, the building was way cooler, the air was filled with the smell of old paper, dust, and faint bitter coffee. Shelves lined the walls, stuffed with binders, ledgers, and boxes labeled in Fury’s neat handwriting. A single desk sat near the back, buried under forms.

The two men lingered by the front door, leaving a trail of dirt and mud beneath their boots as their eyes adjusted from the harsh sunlight to the dim interior.

“Come here, boys,” Fury called, circling around his desk.

Steve stepped forward—but Bucky stopped short, his attention snagging on something off to the side of the office.

“Uh,” Bucky raised a finger to point, not even trying to hide it. “Who the hell is that? She lost?”

There you sat, prim and composed, one leg crossed over the other, a newspaper folded neatly in your hands. Your clothes were clean, your shoes never touched by dirt, and the two suitcases at your feet looked like they cost more than what Steve and Bucky made in a day.

You looked like you had stepped off the wrong bus, yet decided to stay anyway.

Steve turned at Bucky’s voice, nearly breaking his neck to get a better look. His gaze trailed from your face down to your legs, the way you subtly bounced your foot as you were absorbed in whatever dull headline held your attention.

Your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip, and Bucky’s breath hitched.

“Damn…” he muttered.

“No.” Fury emerged from behind the desk, glancing between the three of you. “She’s right where she’s supposed to be.”

You finally looked up when Fury tapped the side of your bench with his cane. Lifting your head, you pulled the earbud from your ear.

“Nick?”

“These are Rogers and Barnes,” Fury said. “They run the livestock operations on the outskirts.” Then he turned back to the two men. “And this is—” he paused, nodding to you, “—a family friend from the city, a couple hours away. She’s here for a research project.”

Steve stepped closer, raising a brow. “Research?”

You folded the newspaper and tucked it under your arm before standing. “Animal productivity,” you explained. “Sustainability in isolated farming communities. Breeding patterns, yield consistency, that sort of thing.”

Both of the boys tilted their head in sync, and Fury shook his own, looking at you. “You’re speaking a whole different language to these cave animals.”

Bucky crossed his arms, ignoring the jab. “And you picked this place?”

“I insisted she come here,” Fury said, raising a brow at him. “Why are you making it sound like this place is bad?”

Steve shrugged. “Well—”

“Don’t answer that,” Fury cut in with a sigh, waving a hand as he turned back to his desk. “Sign these. And once you’re done—” his gaze flicked to your suitcases, “—help her get settled in the farmhouse out back.”

“The farmhouse?” Bucky met Fury at the desk, planting both hands on the edge as he leaned over him. “You’re not stickin’ a girl like that in some dirty farmhouse, Fury.”

It seemed like every farmer you’d met so far was loud and painfully straightforward. You glanced down at yourself—your clothes, so different from the muted dresses the handful of elderly women wore around town. Since stepping off the bus, you’d been surrounded by the smell of manure, too much testosterone, and a growing sense of self-consciousness.

Fury looked up at Bucky with his good eye. “I already told her about our very limited lodging options.” He turned to you for backup. “And she was okay with it. Right?”

You were not okay with it.

You were used to a queen-sized bed in your comfortable city apartment, right in the heart of everything. Not a farmhouse.

“Yup,” you said anyway, forcing a nod and a smile.

For research. Right?

Bucky scoffed and clamped a hand down on Steve’s shoulder, pulling him closer hard enough that Steve nearly stumbled.

“You know, We’ve got Sarah’s old house right next to our farm—the one that’s been collectin’ dust,” Bucky said, giving Steve a firm slap on the back to rope him in. “What do you say, Stevie? Take us a few hours to clean it up, pull the mattress outta the closet, get it all nice and tidy for our little friend here.”

All three men turned to look at you, and you suddenly felt very small beneath their attention—especially under Steve and Bucky’s eyes.

“I… wouldn’t want to intrude,” you said gently, scratching at your temple. “I’m not sure how Sarah would feel if I just moved in—”

“Sarah—God rest her—wouldn’t want an impressionable young woman like you sleepin’ in a cold, dirty farmhouse,” Bucky cut in, flashing Steve a grin.

Steve let out a slow, patient breath through his nose. “I suppose you’re right. My mother wouldn’t want that.”

Bucky turned back to you, a charming smile tugging at his mouth. “How about it, pretty girl?”

You glanced at Fury, searching his face. He was the only person you trusted here, and as long as he trusted them, that would have to be enough.

Fury let out a quiet, weary sigh and gave you a small shrug. “They look like troublemakers,” he said, “but they’re the ones keeping this town running.”

He pointed at Steve while looking at you. “You can trust this one.” Then his finger moved slowly to Bucky. “But be careful with this one.”

“Hah. Hah,” Bucky replied dryly as he crossed the room, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath his heavy boots. He bent down, grabbed one of your suitcases, and tossed it toward Steve, who barely caught it off guard.

Bucky picked up the other bag and flashed you a smile.

“Our truck’s right outside. Come on.”

With one strong hand gripping the strap of your suitcase, his other hand—surprisingly respectful—settled at your lower back as he guided you towards the front door.

On the way out, he gave Steve a look, nodding once to signal him to follow.

“You two better take good care of her,” Fury called after them. “She’s a family friend. Remember that.”

Steve paused, glancing back at Fury with a sigh.

“Yeah, noted,” he muttered as he stepped outside with the luggage, following you and Bucky.

Fury waved you off, then turned back to the desk, eyeing the untouched stack of paperwork still waiting for signatures.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered.

Outside, Steve and Bucky tossed the luggage into the flatbed haphazardly. The heavy thud of your expensive bags made you flinch, especially knowing your laptop and notebooks were inside.

Bucky swung the passenger door open wide and motioned you over with a hand. “Come on in,” he said. “Lucy don’t bite.”

“Lucy?” you huffed a small laugh, hesitating as you stepped closer. Leaning inside, you saw the floorboards caked with dirt and mud; one step in and your shoes would be ruined in an instant. “Uh, I don’t think there’s room for me—”

“Sure there is,” Bucky interrupted.

Without warning, his rough hands found your hips and lifted you easily, setting you down on the passenger seat. “Scoot over,” he said. “You’re gonna have to be the middle man.”

Before you could even say anything, Bucky planted one heavy boot inside the cab and hopped inside, rocking the truck and forcing you to scramble over as he slammed the door shut. You barely had time to find your balance before Steve opened the driver’s door and climbed in, settling behind the wheel with a huff.

Now, you found yourself wedged between two broad, very dirty men who smelt like sweat and sun.

And suddenly, the cab felt very, very warm.

“Let’s see if she’ll turn,” Steve muttered, twisting the key in the ignition.

“What do you mean, let’s see?” you asked warily, tugging at the collar of your shirt. “And does this thing have air-conditioning?”

Steve pressed his lips together. “Air-conditioning would be the very thing that puts Lucy in the ground.” He tried again—the engine sputtered, then died. “She’s a little rough around the edges, but… she should come around.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you focused on your hands folded in your lap, realizing what you had gotten yourself into. You were in the middle of pretty much nowhere, with spotty service, no sleep, wedged into a truck with two men you had never even met, headed for a house where who knew what kind of bugs were waiting for you.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself, voice shaky.

Steve glanced at you, his expression softening just slightly. “Hey—don’t panic. She’ll start. Just gotta—” he turned the key again, then once more. The engine finally roared to life, rattling violently as the truck shook beneath you.

“There we go.”

Bucky rested his arm out the window, flashing Steve a grin over your head. “Our lucky day, you said?”

The corner of Steve’s mouth tugged into a smirk as he shifted into drive. “Don’t get greedy.”

As Steve pulled onto the road, the truck rattled and shook over every rock and rut. You reached for the seatbelt, tugging at it, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Seatbelts don’t work, sweetheart,” Steve said, glancing over at you with a reassuring smile before returning his focus to the road. “Just try to hold on tight.”

That did very little to calm you.

That was a safety hazard and straight up illegal.

You pressed your palms flat against your thighs, shoulders rigid. Your eyes switched between the flaws of the old truck— to the web of cracks in the window, to the dust on the dash—and the unfamiliar stretch of land rolling past. The farther you got from town, the quieter it became. Fewer houses, fewer people—just fields and fences stretching on forever.

Bucky could feel how tense you were from the faint brush of your shoulder against his.

“You alright?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light. “You look like you’re thinkin’ about jumpin’ out and runnin’.”

You looked up at him and forced a laugh, though it came out thin and brittle. “I’m fine. Just… adjusting, I think.”

“A lot different than city life, huh?” Steve asked from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “This is… very different.”

“Well,” Steve said, resting one hand on the window sill and the other on the wheel, “since we’ve got a bit of a drive, why don’t you tell us more about this research project of yours?”

“Yeah,” Bucky added. “You studyin’ cows or somethin’?”

“Not just cows,” you said. “Basically, when communities are geographically isolated, access to veterinary care, supplemental feed, and modern equipment becomes limited. That can unintentionally alter breeding cycles. Livestock may breed earlier or later in the season, fertility rates can fluctuate, and stress levels directly affect overall yield.”

Bucky scratched at his chin, letting out a thoughtful hum. “Breeding…”

Steve glared at him over your head.

You just kept going, oblivious as your hands lifted slightly as you explained, slipping deeper into familiar academic territory.

“I’m also comparing seasonal fertility rates,” you said. “In places like this, breeding windows tend to be less controlled, which can lead to overlap between generations. That affects herd structure, genetic diversity, and long-term productivity.”

Bucky nodded slowly, eyes still on the road ahead. “Uncontrolled breedin’, huh.”

“Buck,” Steve warned.

“What? I’m not doin’ anything.”

You glanced between them, finally catching the smirk tugging at Bucky’s mouth as he fought back a laugh and the disapproving look on Steve’s face, despite the smile he was clearly trying to hide by staring out the window.

For fuck’s sake.

You were realizing now that Dirty Man One and Dirty Man Two were trying to crack inappropriate sex jokes.

“Jesus,” you muttered, rubbing your temple. “You men are disgusting.”

“Hey! Don’t lump me in with him,” Steve said quickly. “I’m the one tryin’ to get him to settle down.”

The rest of the drive was surprisingly pleasant. Both of them asked about your school and your research, and every time you answered in more detail, you noticed their slightly dazed and confused expressions. Steve tended to ask the more in-depth questions, genuinely curious, while Bucky nodded along like he understood every word.

The truck bounced and swayed over ruts, rocks, and packed dirt as Steve turned into a long, wide driveway. Ahead stood a large farmhouse, with a smaller cabin-like building off to the side.

Farther to the left sat another structure.

A very, very small one.

Too small to be a house, but just big enough to be a storage shed.

“Here we are,” Steve announced as the truck rumbled to a stop and the engine cut out.

You raised a finger, pointing to the small shed. “Is that—”

Before you could finish the question, both men opened their doors and hopped out of the truck without a word. They grabbed your luggage—now smudged with grime and dirt—and started carrying it to the shed.

You scrambled out of the truck, nearly stumbling as your feet hit the ground, and hurried after them.

“Wait—hey!” you called, jogging to keep up as they headed straight for the shed. “T-that’s not where I’m staying, is it?”

Bucky glanced back over his shoulder, adjusting his grip on one of your suitcases. “That little building over there? Yeah. That’s it.”

Steve slowed a little, giving you a little apologetic look as you caught up. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he promised. “My mom used it as a guest place for a bit. Solid roof, no leaks—”

“And a whole lot better than the farmhouse Fury was gonna stick you in,” Bucky added.

You looked at the structure again as you walked —weathered wood, a single small window, and a door that had clearly seen better decades. Your pace faltered.

“Guys,” you said flatly. “That is a shed.”

Bucky stopped in front of it and set the luggage down, turning to face you with a grin.

“Technically,” he said, “it’s a converted shed.” He lifted a hand just in time to catch the key Steve tossed his way.

“We fixed it up, mostly.” Steve looked down at your expression, the way your teeth caught your bottom lip and the weary, beady eyes you’ve been wearing ever since they picked you up in their truck.

Without thinking, he rested a protective hand at your back, drawing your attention.

“I know this is different from the city life you’re used to,” he said gently. “But I promise, it just needs a few touch-ups. You’ll get comfortable in no time.”

The way Steve looked at you eased the tension in your chest. His smile was warm, his voice patient and kind. And if Fury said this was the one you could trust, then so be it.

“Thank you, Steve.”

The other one, on the other hand…

Bucky unlocked the door with a huff. Dust immediately billowed out, making him cough as he waved a hand in front of his face. He glanced back at you and Steve.

“Oh, by the way,” he said. “There’s no bathroom in here.”

Perfect.

Bucky nudged the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside, his heavy work boots creaking against the frail wooden floorboards. Steve followed, setting your luggage just inside the doorway.

You hesitated at the doorframe before stepping in after them.

The place was ridiculously tiny. One narrow room with a low ceiling, a single window coated in dust, furniture and cabinets that looked like it could barely hold up. It smelled like old wood, hay, oil and something faintly metallic—you didn’t know what.

Back in the city, you had white walls, clean linens, and the oddly relaxing hum of traffic outside your window. Here, you had stained wallpaper peeling at the edges and bawking chickens.

For your research project, you reminded yourself. You chose this.

Bucky looked around with his hands on his hips. “It’s small,” he said thoughtfully, “but I think it’s the perfect size for a girl like you.”

He smiled, and you weren’t entirely sure how you were supposed to take that.

When he noticed your silence, the smile slipped just a bit. “You okay?”

You snapped out of it, nodding a little too fast. “Yeah, I just…” You exhaled, rubbing your arms. “I think I really need a shower. If that’s—uh—even possible.”

“Oh,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Sure. But you’re not doin’ that here.”

You gave Steve a look, almost like a silent plea for backup, but he only shrugged in response as Bucky continued, smirk firmly in place.

“C’mon. Our place is right next door. Real bathroom. Hot water.”

You shifted on your feet, eyeing them both suspiciously. “And the door,” you asked carefully, “it locks?”

The two men exchanged a silent look, and immediately, you regretted asking. Here they were—offering you a ride, a place to stay they’d fix up just for you, even letting you use their shower—and you’d gone and asked if the lock worked, as if you were accusing them of being some kind of creeps.

But then they blinked at each other and burst into laughter.

Bucky let out a sharp bark, shaking his head. “Yeah,” he grinned. “It locks.”

Steve wiped at his face, trying to rein it in. “You know, you’ve got men out here showerin’ in their front lawns with a bucket of water and a bar of soap,” he added. “But I get it. Can’t blame you for askin’. City instincts.”

Your face immediately burned with embarassment. You’ve delt with your fair share of annoying men in the city, but it was something about being surrounded by farmer men that made the teasing feel ten times more insufferating.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, crossing your arms. “Very funny.”

Still smiling, Steve wiped at the corner of his eye and motioned toward the door. “Come on. Follow us—we’ll show you where you can wash up.”

After you quickly grabbed a fresh set of clothes out of your luggage, they led the way across the yard, Steve out front and Bucky hanging back just enough to make sure you were keeping up. The dirt path had been worn smooth by years of boots and tires, and on either side of it the farm stretched out in every direction.

Cows clustered near the fence line, tails swishing lazily. A pair of horses lifted their heads as you passed, ears flicking toward you with mild curiosity. Chickens roamed freely, darting around your feet like they owned the place. Everything felt alive— busy and loud in ways that reminded you of the city, though it couldn’t have been more different.

The farm loomed closer as you approached—big, solid, and weathered, with hay bales stacked nearby and buckets of feed scattered around the yard.

Walking past, you reached the house itself. It was a small, one-story, cabin-like structure built from dark wood. The door creaked as Steve pushed it open, and the scent inside was a stark contrast to the earthy, animal smells outside.

From the doorway, you could smell the soap, clean laundry, and coffee. You were met with heavy wooden furniture. Worn floors. Tools leaned neatly against one wall. A pair of muddy boots sat by the door.

Very manly was the only way you could describe it.

Steve stepped aside to let you in. “Watch your step.”

As you stepped in, dodging the muddy boots, the house felt sturdy and lived-in. Not polished, but definitely cared for.

Bucky shut the door behind you with his heel and jerked his head down the narrow hallway. “Bathroom’s this way.”

You followed, your gaze drifting over the details as you walked by. Family photos tacked messily to the wall—they didn’t look alike at all, had different lastnames, so siblings seemed unlikely, yet there were dozens of pictures of them together from childhood. A calendar hung nearby, crowded with notes about feed deliveries and vet visits, all scrawled in incomprehensible, sloppy boy handwriting.

Bucky paused and pointed at one of the photos—a younger version of him and Steve standing side by side with crooked smiles.

“Handsome, ain’t he?” he asked, tapping at himself.

You couldn’t help but grin. “I’ve seen better.”

Steve snorted while Bucky rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. He stopped at the last door and pushed it open with his knuckle.

“Here we go.”

The bathroom was small but clean. White tile lined the walls, a deep tub sat beneath a real showerhead, and shelves held neatly folded towels alongside mismatched bottles of soap. A narrow window above the sink let in a stripe of late-afternoon light, dust motes drifting lazily in the air.

“Hot water takes a minute,” Bucky said, leaning against the wall. “Gotta let it run first.”

You looked between the two men, clutching your folded clothes to your chest. “Thank you—both of you. I really appreciate this.”

“Don’t mention it,” Steve said with a casual wave of his hand. “A friend of Fury’s is a friend of ours.”

Bucky pushed himself off the wall and stepped aside, giving you room to enter. “Steve and I will clean up the shed while you’re in here. By the time you’re done, it should be ready with the mattress and all.”

Your smile softened as you glanced at him. “You guys are great. Seriously, I couldn’t be—”

“Just make sure you shout us out in that research paper,” Bucky cut in with a grin, resting his hand on the doorknob. “And don’t forget to let the water run. Enjoy your shower, pretty girl.”

The door shut softly behind you.

And on the other side, Steve immediately whacked the back of Bucky’s head.

“Pretty girl? Pretty girl?” Steve whisper-yelled. “Are you kidding me?”

Bucky winced, rubbing the back of his head as they headed down the hall towards the front door. “What? She is pretty, Steve. And don’t act like you’re any better. ‘Sweetheart’? Really?”

“I’m trying to be respectful, Buck,” Steve sighed as he pushed the front door open.

“And I was being respectful,” Bucky clicked his tongue. “You know how rare it is for a beautfiul woman like that to be around here. Gotta make a good first impression.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Get your head out of your ass. A girl like that would want nothing to do with dirty men like us.”

“Oh—come on, Steve,” Bucky whined, following after him like a bug in the air, “why you gotta be so hopeless, man?”

“Not hopeless,” Steve corrected, pushing the shed door open. “Realistic.”

Bucky scoffed as he followed him inside, heading straight for the closet. He hauled out the folded air mattress and the old hand pump, dropping them onto the floor. “Yeah, yeah. Still—doesn’t hurt to imagine, you know?”

Steve grabbed the broom and dustpan from the corner and started clearing dust and debris. “Imagine what, exactly?”

Bucky grinned, eyes drifting back to the window that faced the house for a second before he caught himself.

“I dunno. Coming home after a long day, boots covered in dirt, back sore as hell—and there she is. Clean, soft, talkin’ about all that smart stuff she knows. Maybe dinner’s on the stove, or she’s sittin’ at the front there with a book, lookin’ all pretty.”

Steve snorted. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Have not,” Bucky said, laying the mattress out where Steve had just swept and starting to pump air into it. “Tell me you wouldn’t want that—a gorgeous girl like that walkin’ around the house, keepin’ it warm and cozy—barefoot and all.”

Steve went quiet as he lifted an old bed frame and leaned it against the wall. He didn’t answer right away, but the faint pink creeping up his ears gave him away at the thought.

“…I guess,” he admitted slowly, “it’d be nice to have someone to come home to.”

Bucky’s grin turned smug instantly. “Ah. There it is.”

“She’s here for research,” Steve reminded him firmly, snapping himself back to reality. “Not to get hitched to a couple of guys who spend all day haulin’ logs and tendin’ cattle.”

“But picture this, Stevie—” Bucky glanced up as he crouched on the floor, steadily pumping air into the mattress. “You work yourself half to death,” he went on, muscles flexing. “We both do. Up before the sun, down after it sets. Muscles sore, hands cracked, brain fried.” He slowed, leaning his weight against the pump. “Wouldn’t kill us to have someone who… helps take the edge off.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve groaned, turning to try and hide the blush on his cheeks. “You’re gross, man.”

“Look—” Bucky sighed as he stood, “we haven’t had a woman like that around here in a long time. And she’s not just any woman—she’s smart.” He shook his head, scoffing lightly. “A man’s allowed to dream about comin’ home to somethin’ nice. Maybe even havin’ a smooth pair of legs wrapped nice and tight around—”

His voice trailed off as his eyes caught sight of you through the window.

You stood on the front porch, barefoot, a towel draped around your shoulders as water dripped from your hair. You were dressed in something light and easy—a dress. Nothing fancy, but far more comfortable than what you’d worn when they first met you.

… And somehow, far more domestic.

Steve followed Bucky’s gaze, his breath hitching once he saw you. Bucky swallowed hard. Neither of them spoke.

Then, they finally looked at each other, faces warm, wearing the same boyish, awed grin—just like the ones frozen in those crooked childhood photos on the wall.

“Pretty,” they both murmured at the exact same time.

They watched as you lifted a hand to shield your eyes, squinting against the afternoon sun as you scanned the yard. You took a few steps down the porch, bare feet tip-toeing around the dirt as you tried to squint at the shed.

Bucky straightened immediately, dropping the pump as it hit the wooden floors with a loud thud. “She’s lookin’ for us.”

Steve was already moving, setting the broom aside so quickly it wobbled, then clattered against the wall before falling to the floor. “Well—don’t just stand there!”

They headed for the door at the same time, bumping shoulders as they squeezed past each other, neither willing to give ground. When you spotted them walking toward you with Steve taking the lead and Bucky half a step behind, clearly trying to edge ahead, a small smile spread across your face.

“Oh—there you two are. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to—” you sighed in relief, gesturing vaguely at the farm around you. “—wander.”

Bucky let out a short chuckle, rocking back on his heels as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You can wander all you’d like, darlin’,” he said. “What’s ours is yours.”

The nickname threw you off guard. You felt your face warm, heat creeping up your neck that had nothing to do with the sun as you tucked a damp strand of hair behind your ear. Back in the city, men didn’t really talk like that unless they were intoxicated at a bar and trying to get in your pants.

But this felt different. Maybe it was just that gentleman, charming, farmer boy thing.

“Oh,” you said, a little breathless. “That’s—uh… really sweet. Thank you, Bucky.”

Steve gave Bucky a look out of the corner of his eye—a careful look. Bucky, meanwhile, looked far too pleased with himself.

“Just don’t go wanderin’ too far, baby,” Steve added quickly, stepping up onto the porch beside you. “Some of the fences are old, and the horses don’t always respect personal place.”

If you hadn’t been flustered before, you definitely were now.

You didn’t get called things like darlin’ or baby very often, and even when you did, the words had never affected you like this. Not the way they sounded coming from two devastatingly handsome, accommodating men with soft southern accents.

“I—okay,” you said quickly, nodding as you snapped yourself out of it, though the corners of your mouth still tugged into a smile. “I’ll be careful.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as he glanced at Steve, then back at you, his own lips twitching like he was biting back a comment.

“We’ve fixed up the shed for you,” Bucky said instead, propping one leg on the porch step and resting a hand on the railing. “Mattress is ready if you wanna rest. You wanna take a look?”

Your attention drifted past the shed, toward the open fields, the fencing, and the animals moving lazily across the land.

“Actually,” you trailed, removing the towel from your shoulders, “would it be okay if I checked out the animals first?”

Bucky tilted his head. “Animals?”

“For my research,” you clarified quickly. “I’d really like to get an initial survey while there’s still daylight. Just some baseline observations—livestock condition, spacing, behavior. I won’t get in the way.”

Steve exchanged a glance with Bucky—a look you’d noticed they shared often since you arrived.

Then Steve smiled back at you. “Yeah, that’s fine. Just—” he gestured vaguely to the fences, “—stay where we can see you. Okay?”

“Don’t worry,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’m not planning on getting lost.”

As you turned back to the house, already half a step up the porch with the intention of grabbing your shoes, something caught the corner of your eye. Your gaze snapped to the far end of the pasture, where a small cluster of animals had gathered. A few cows wandered lazily nearby, but it was two chickens in particular that caught your attention.

A hen crouched low to the ground, wings spread slightly, tail lifted—while a rooster mounted her from behind.

Your eyes went wide.

“Oh—wait, wait, wait!”

Shoes forgotten entirely, you pivoted on your heel and hurried back down the porch steps, already digging your phone out of your dress pocket. “This is perfect timing! Hold this—please—”

Behind you, Steve barely had time to react before the towel was tossed his way, landing squarely over his head.

“Hey—” he started, but you were already jogging barefoot across the dirt, eyes locked on the breeding chickens.

Your hair breezed through wind and they got a good whiff of the pleasant scent before you ran off. Despite using the same shampoo as them, it smelled surprisingly soft and very feminine. A smell they weren’t used to, but one they’d easily grow fond of.

You slowed as you got closer, steadying your hands, snapping a few quick photos as discreetly as possible, and crouching slightly to keep from startling them. Your lips moved as you narrated under your breath.

“Estrus behavior visible… herd proximity unchanged… minimal disruption…”

Bucky stared after you, incredulous, before letting out a low whistle. He nudged Steve in the arm just as Steve pulled the towel off his face.

“What’d I tell you?” Bucky murmured with a crooked grin. “Barefoot—” he nodded inside the house, still warm and humid from your shower, “—and already keepin’ the house warm.”

“Alright. Enough gawking,” Steve warned, though his eyes were still still fixed on you. “Just ’cause we’ve got a pretty girl livin’ with us now doesn’t mean we don’t have work to do.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that while you stare even harder.”

For the rest of the afternoon, until the sun laid low and the sky began to darken, the two men worked diligently around the farm. And despite Steve’s warnings not to gawk, their eyes found you anyway—again and again.

You crouched near the animals, scribbling notes into your journal, occasionally lifting an expensive-looking camera—one in far better condition than their own damn truck—to snap photos of the cattle. And even after they’d warned you about the fences, you climbed up onto the railings anyway, the wood creaking beneath your toes as you leaned forward, determined to get the perfect shot of the horses.

Wood was getting stacked, hay bales tossed aside, tools scattered and gathered again as needed.

Still, every so often, Steve would glance up from his work to try and look at you, but only to catch Bucky leaning against the farmhouse doorway, eyes trailing shamelessly in your direction.

“Whatcha starin’ at, Buck?” Steve grinned as he tied off a rope around a hay bale.

Bucky didn’t look away from you. His smile softened as he watched the way you held the camera carefully, how your toes balanced on the fence rail, the breeze tugging gently at your hair and dress.

“Just admirin’ the view.”

Steve’s gaze followed his, and he let out a low groan as he stood up. “She’s gonna fall off that fence if she keeps leanin’ over like that.”

“And we’ll be there to catch her,” Bucky replied with a grin, pushing off the doorframe to help with the bales.

You had no idea you were being watched so closely.

Unbeknownst to them, you had been sneaking glances of your own towards the farm. Their white tank tops—streaked with dirt and darkened with sweat—clung to their muscular bodies. Broad arms and strong backs flexed and tensed every time they lifted something heavy. Each hay bale toss came with a grit of teeth, a scrunched brow, and a low, rough groan.

And afterward, they would both exhale deeply, chests rising as they wiped sweat from their foreheads with thick forearms.

They were both strong, capable men—reeking of masculinity, so sure with their hands with what came from years of real work.

Men you’d never meet in the city.

Night had fully settled in now, the sky stretched dark blue and wide, scattered with bright stars. From where you stood, you watched Steve and Bucky just outside the house, pumping water through the pipes as they rinsed off their hands and faces.

Water trickled from their chins, disappearing into the deep lines of their firm chests beneath worn tank tops. They wiped their faces with towels, murmured something to each other—and then both turned your way.

Two sets of eyes found yours that stared at them shamelessly.

You immediately looked down at your camera screen, pretending to be fixated on the chickens you photographed as you tried to play it cool.

Then you heard footsteps, two sets of heavy footsteps treading through the grass and dirt and closer to you.

Fuck.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve approached, crossing his arms while he looked down at you. “We were gonna grab some food in a bit. You hungry?”

“Oh,” you hummed, your stomach already answering with a rumble. “Yeah. I could eat.”

“Every Friday night, the town heads down to the bar,” Steve continued. “More of a saloon, really. Beer, cheap whiskey, food. Sometimes there’s live music if Gary brings his guitar—or the jukebox, if it decides to work.”

“And line dancin’,” Bucky added. “Bad line dancin’.”

“I’m not sure if you have that kind of thing in the city,” Steve went on, resting a hand against the fence as he hovered over you, “but if you wanna tag along for a bite, you’re more than welcome.”

You closed your journal and slipped the camera strap from around your neck, standing with a small groan as you stretched. You were here for research, yes, but it wouldn’t hurt to see what the town had to offer beyond livestock and open fields.

“That sounds fun,” you said, smiling. “I’ll come. I just need to rinse up real quick and I’ll be right out.”

Your gaze dropped to your feet, dirt caked between your toes, bits of grass still clinging to your skin. Then you glanced down at your clothes.

“Is… what I’m wearing okay?” you asked, a little self-conscious as you smoothed the fabric down.

Steve’s eyes dropped before he could stop them, taking in the way the dress fit you—how it followed and hugged your curves, how the neckline framed your chest just right. Realizing how intensely he was staring, he snapped his gaze back up to your face. His jaw tightened as he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly, standing up straight. Then he cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s— it’s fine. You’re fine.”

Bucky, on the other hand, took your question as an invitation to check you out shamelessly. His eyes roamed over you—appreciating your chest and legs. Liking what he saw, his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip, teeth catching it afterward.

“Real pretty, doll,” he said lowly. “Wearin’ a dress like that around here… almost makes me wanna keep you to ourselves.”

You rolled your eyes, hoping the silver moonlight didn’t betray the flush on your cheeks or the way your lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

“You two are unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head as you stepped past them towards the house.

Halfway to the porch, you called back over your shoulder, your voice playful. “Do you flirt with every woman who crosses your path, or am I just lucky?”

Bucky’s mouth snapped open—a smart-ass remark already locked and loaded—but Steve cut him off instantly, pointing a stern finger at his chest. “Hey now! Don’t look at me. It’s him. He’s the problem.”

The sound of your light, airy laugh drifted back to them—a sound so soft and gentle, it seemed to knock the air right out of their lungs.

“I’ll be back in a minute!” you called with a wave, jogging up the porch steps and disappearing inside.

“Don’t take too long!” Bucky shouted after you. “Or else all the food will be gone by the time we get there.”

As the screen door clicked shut and you vanished from sight, their laughter trailed off. The silence of the countryside came back, broken only by the faint chirps of crickets in the distance.

Steve let out a heavy exhale, rubbing the back of his neck.

“…We gotta get a grip,” he muttered.

“I’m being serious, Stevie,” Bucky said, giving his friend’s arm a sharp nudge.

His flirtatious smirk was gone, now replaced with a protective look that Steve had only seen him give to their horses.

“I mean—look at her. If she shows up at the bar looking like that, every bastard in the county is going to be breathing down her neck.” He crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the door where you had just been.

“…Yeah,” Steve huffed quietly. “I know.” His gaze stayed on the house, tracking your silhouette as it moved past the lit windows.

“Hell, half the men in this town would get worked up just seein’ a lady show a bit of ankle,” Steve added dryly. “I still can’t believe Fury told her to come to this dump.”

Bucky let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Listen to us—soundin’ real territorial all of a sudden.”

Steve scrubbed a hand down his face, his palm rasping against his stubble. “It’s just—she’s our responsibility while she’s here. Fury trusted us to look out for her. That’s all it is.”

“Yeah,” Bucky hummed. “That’s all.”

They stood in the yard, watching you move past the glow of the house windows.

In the long silence, they both realized how dead wrong they were. Truthfully, they weren’t all that much better compared to the sleazy, overworked men in town.

When they first laid eyes on you, they immediately wanted to keep you to themselves. And despite only having you here for a couple of hours, they were going to make sure to keep it that way.

Steve started talking lowly to Bucky, quiet enough to make sure you couldn’t hear—even though you were already inside.

“We stick close tonight. No one bothers her. No one gets handsy. And if anyone does—” Steve stopped himself, exhaling through his nose. “—we shut it down. Calmly.” He emphasized.

“Right.” Bucky nodded. “Calmly.”

“That means we don’t start fights, Buck.”

“Hey—I don’t believe in startin’ fights,” he mumbled, crossing his arms defensively. “Just… finishin’ ‘em.”

“Alright, enough loitering. Let’s start up Lucy.” Steve slapped a firm hand on Bucky’s back, nudging him towards the truck.

Bucky mumbled grumpily but trailed behind anyway, yanking the hood latch and propping it open while Steve climbed into the driver’s seat. The keys jingled as Steve turned the ignition.

The truck clicked, chugged, whined, and gave them nothing.

He tried again. Another cough, a weak sputter—and then silence.

“… You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Steve muttered, giving Bucky a flat look through the windshield.

Bucky leaned over the engine bay, bracing one hand on the frame. “Don’t look at me like that. She was runnin’ fine earlier.”

“Well, she’s got real bad timing,” Steve shot back sassily, twisting the key once more, like sheer will might help. The engine answered with a pathetic hiccup and died again. “We can’t invite her out and then tell her the truck’s dead.”

“I didn’t invite her,” Bucky said, poking at a hose. “You did.”

“Oh, don’t start.”

Bucky adjusted a loose wire, fingers blackening with grease. “Try it now.”

Steve turned the key, and still… nothing.

Steve leaned his head back against the seat, exhaling sharply. “Unbelievable. First night she’s here, and we’re about to tell her we can’t even get her into town.”

“Relax,” Bucky said, though his jaw was tight. “Lucy’s temperamental. Always has been.” He wiped his hands on his jeans and bent closer to look inside the engine. “Could be the starter. Or the battery. Or—”

The screen door slammed shut, and both men froze at the sound.

You stepped back out, shoes on this time, hair neatly fixed, looking entirely too put together for a place like this. You jogged towards the truck, a smile already on your face.

“Hey!” you called brightly. “You guys ready?”

Steve’s head snapped up so fast he nearly cracked his neck. Bucky straightened, narrowly missing the hood as he stood.

“Yeah—uh—we’re ready,” Steve said quickly, turning the key again. “C’mon…” he muttered under his breath.

Then the engine finally roared back to life, loud and rumbling, sounding like music to their ears. Both men looked at each other in disbelief.

Bucky slowly lowered the hood and gave it an affectionate pat. “Atta girl,” he murmured. Then he glanced at Steve, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Our good luck charm, ain’t she?”

Steve shook his head, trying to hide his own smile. “Yeah. She is.”

And you couldn’t tell if they were talking about the truck—or you.

Lucy rattled beneath you like she was held together by sheer luck alone.

The ride into town was loud and bumpy, the streets dark and lit only by the truck’s dusty high beams and the occasional window light from passing houses.

The windows were down, warm night air rushing through the cab, drifting in the scent of dust, grass, and something smoky from farther ahead. Steve drove with one hand on the wheel, relaxed now that the truck had decided to cooperate, while Bucky leaned back in his seat, elbow hooked out the window.

Town came into view slowly—a handful of buildings clustered under string lights and old streetlamps. It looked far more beautiful than it had in the broad daylight when you first arrived. The bar stood near the center, a squat wooden building with a faded sign swinging above the door. Even before Steve cut the engine, the twang of banjos and guitars met your ears.

“Well,” Steve said, hopping out and extending a hand to help you down. “We made it.”

The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with the sounds of loud music, laughter, and the smell of cigarettes.

Glasses clinked, boots thudded and scraped against the old floorboards. A few men with weathered faces leaned against the bar with their sleeves rolled up, while a group of elderly women sat at a corner table with playing cards spread out before them. Someone whooped near the jukebox, and a few people were already on the floor, dancing and sweating.

One pair of eyes landed on you, then several.

Soon enough, nearly everyone in the damn bar was staring.

Conversation grew a little quieter. Curious, surprised, and a few openly appreciative glances lingered on you longer than they should’ve. You crossed your arms defensively on instinct, suddenly very aware of yourself.

And both of your boys noticed.

Steve stepped up beside you, resting a protective hand on your lower back that somehow managed to soothe you. Bucky moved to your other side quietly, his broad shoulders subtly boxing you in as he glared at everyone else in the room.

Most of the crowd looked away and returned to their drinks, but the younger men kept their eyes fixed on you.

“Don’t mind them,” Bucky murmured, leaning in so only you could hear. “Town don’t get many new faces. Especially not pretty ones.”

Before you could respond, someone at the bar shouted, “Rogers! Barnes! Thought that was Lucy I heard coughin’ her way into town!”

Steve laughed, lifting his other hand in greeting. “You know she wouldn’t miss a Friday.”

The elderly men at the bar chuckled, and one of them leaned back on his stool to get a better look at you. “Well, don’t just stand there hoggin’ her, Rogers,” he called out. “Come on over and introduce us to your new friend.”

You hesitated, your eyes darting between Steve and Bucky. Despite the protective hand on your back, Steve’s expression remained calm and gentle, clearly intent on not starting any trouble. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to fight anyone who even dared to look your way.

“They’re alright,” Steve reassured you quietly. “Promise. Half the fellas at the bar are married.”

Then a burst of laughter exploded from a table near the back where a group of women sat hunched over cards and half-empty glasses—clearly the wives in question. One of them slapped the table. “That’s because you earned it, Marie!” another shouted back. “Now stop yellin’ and play your damn hand!”

You couldn’t help but smile.

Steve gave you a gentle nudge. “C’mon. Let’s say hello.”

They led you toward the bar, Steve’s hand relaxed and guiding at your back while Bucky stalked half a step behind you, mugging everyone who looked your way. The older men adjusted their stools, flashing friendly smiles as they made space for you.

“This is Frank,” Steve said by way of introduction, and you reached out to shake his hand.

“So,” Frank raised a brow, looking between the three of you. “Who’s the young lady?”

You returned his greeting with a polite smile. “I’m a family friend of Fury’s. I’m here for a research project.”

“Ohhh, Fury’s girl?” the bartender whistled, wiping down a glass. “Well, hell—someone warn the whole town not to lay a finger on this one.”

A few men barked a laugh, the scent of beer wafting from their breath, as Frank waved a finger between Bucky and Steve.

“Specially you two,” he said, looking at you. “These guys are the ones causin’ most of the trouble around here. Fury actually trusted you with them?”

“Hey, we’re perfect gentlemen,” Steve countered. “Ain’t that right, Buck?”

“Right,” Bucky muttered, his arms crossed as he glared at someone across the bar. “Gentlemen.”

You shrugged lightly, smiling. “They’ve been nothing but nice. They even fixed up a shed for me to stay in.”

“A shed?” one man barked, spit nearly flying. You took a subtle step back. “Rogers, Barnes—you stick a girl in a shed and call it hospitality?”

“Don’t sully my ma’s house like that,” Steve joked, reaching over the counter to grab himself a beer.

“Y’know, when Sarah was alive, she didn’t call it much of a house, either,” Frank added, stifling his cigarette in the ashtray as a cloud of smoke drifted toward you.

Steve reached over the counter again, this time snagging two more bottles and sliding cash to the bartender with a nod of thanks.

“Alright, alright,” he said good-naturedly. “Before you all start fillin’ our girl’s ears with nonsense, we’re gonna grab a table.”

Bucky tipped his chin to the back corner. “There’s an empty one over there.”

Steve nodded in that direction, gesturing for you to lead the way.

“Oh, so she’s your girl now!” the men teased, their laughter following you. As the three of you walked away, they called out their goodbyes. “It was nice meetin’ you, sweetheart!”

You looked over your shoulder, giving them a quick wave.

“And it was nice talkin’ to you too, Barnes!” Frank shouted sarcastically. Bucky didn’t even look back, simply raising a hand in a dismissive wave as he guided you to the booth.

Bucky stood aside, letting you take the inside seat of the booth. As you slid in, the cushions felt worn and soft—broken in by years of Friday nights exactly like this one. Once you were settled and had set your beer set on the table, Bucky slid in right next to you.

“I’ll grab us somethin’ to eat,” Steve said, standing at the edge of the table and scanning the chalkboard menu. “Place may be small and reeks of cigarettes, but they do grill a mean burger.”

You smiled up at him. “I’ll trust your judgment.”

Steve turned back toward the bar, weaving his way through the crowd. It was just you and Bucky now, surrounded by the loud music and people nearly tripping over themselves. You took it all in with curious eyes while Bucky leaned back against the booth, his arm draped lazily across the top of the seat behind you, beer resting casually in his hand.

“So,” Bucky huffed after taking a sip. “How’re you likin’ the small-town nightlife? Real glitz and glamour out here.”

Your eyes continued scanning the room—the scuffed, dirty floors, the dartboard with three crooked darts still stuck in it, and some burly men arm wrestling in the opposite corner.

“Oh, yeah,” you agreed sarcastically. “Definitely glitz and glamour. We do this all the time back in the city.”

“Yeah?” he laughed softly. “Definitely just like the champagne-and-rooftop parties you have every night. Uh-huh, got it.” He smiled at you before taking another swig of his beer.

You watched the lines crinkle attractively at the corners of his tired eyes—evidence of long days and too little rest. His tongue swept across his bottom lip to catch a stray drop, and the simple motion made your stomach flip, your pulse ticking up a notch.

You took a quick sip from your own bottle to hide your reaction, then cleared your throat.

“Anyway,” you started lightly, “what’s with everyone telling me that you two are trouble?”

Bucky let out a playful scoff. “That’s just old-timer slander. We’re model citizens.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “Right. So innocent that every person I’ve met has warned me about you two,” you added dryly.

“Absolutely,” he said, lifting his beer in a small toast. “Wouldn’t hurt a damn fly, darlin’.”

“Does that explain why you’ve been scowling at every man in here like you’re ready to fight since we walked through the doors?” you taunted.

He set his beer on the table and leaned in closer; you could catch the scent of it on his breath. “Look around you, sweetheart,” he rasped.

You did. The room was full of weathered faces, grease-stained flannel shirts, and men who had clearly seen better days. Most of the women were gathered at the cards table—all silver hair and loud, gravelly laughter.

“See any other woman as young and beautiful as you?” he asked. His eyes trailed over your face, down to your jawline and your neck while you were too busy scanning the bar to notice. “Stevie and I are just protectin’ you, that’s all.”

Protecting you?

Your face warmed, and the second you turned your gaze back to him, you found he was already watching you, leaning in dangerously close.

“That so?” you asked softly, your eyes searching his.

“That’s so,” he repeated lowly. You watched as his gaze dropped slowly from your eyes to your lips.

In the city, independence was everything; women were expected to take care of themselves. But here, it felt like those modern rules had been stripped away in favor of the old ways. It was traditional—strong, capable men protecting and providing while the women held down the home. It was a lifestyle that didn’t—couldn’t— exist in the city where everyone was always on the clock.

Just then, Steve approached, setting down plates piled with burgers, fries, and ribs. He had a wide grin on his face. “Eat up, princess.”

As you looked at the food and then back at the two of them, you realized that maybe you didn’t mind being taken care of—especially by them.

You all dug in, the smell of grilled meat and greasy fries making your stomach rumble. Bucky took a massive bite of his burger, already smearing sauce across his chin. He glanced over at you, smirking while he chewed.

“Bet you don’t eat this kind of slop back in the city, do ya?” he teased, nodding at your hands as you tried to steady a burger the size of your head. “Probably don’t even know how to eat with your hands.”

You rolled your eyes. “I do know how to eat with my hands,” you said, adjusting your grip. “I’m just eating with manners—something you two should try learning.”

“Hey, don’t be afraid of a little mess,” Bucky said, swiping a finger over a barbecue rib until it was coated in sauce. “That’s part of the fun.”

Steve gave him a disapproving look across the table. “Buck, no—”

But Steve’s warning went in one ear and out the other. Before you could react, Bucky reached over and swiped a thick line of barbecue sauce right over your lips and chin.

“Hey—!” You recoiled, pressing your lips tight to keep his finger from slipping into your mouth. Bucky sat back in his seat, letting out a roar of laughter at your reaction.

“Oh my god, Bucky! You are trouble!”

You reached for a napkin, but Steve snatched it away before you could grab it, snickering along with his friend.

“Steve, you too?!” you frowned dramatically, dropping your burger back onto the plate. You stood up, reaching across the booth to grab it, but Steve held it further back, laughing at your sad attempt. “How could you do this to me? You literally told Bucky no!”

“I know, I know,” he laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “But look at you—you look so damn cute, sweetheart.”

With a groan, you leaned over the table, stretching just far enough to snatch the napkins right out of Steve’s hands. You immediately started dabbing at the mess on your chin.

“Jesus,” you said, shaking your head playfully. “Nick was right about you two.”

All three of you were still recovering from the laughter when two large shadows fell over the table, blocking the warm overhead light.

“Well, well,” a slurred voice drawled, catching the guys' attention. “Ain’t this a pretty picture.”

Bucky looked up, and it was like a dark cloud loomed over him; his smile was instantly replaced by a hard, dangerous frown. “Get lost, Mike.”

‘Mike’ didn’t even glance at Bucky. Instead, his bleary gaze raked over you, slow and hazy in a way that made your skin prick uncomfortably. You sank back into your seat, subtly trying to hide yourself behind Bucky’s frame.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Mike said, leaning his hands on the edge of the booth, trying to keep himself from toppling over. You could smell the cheap whiskey on his breath from across the table. “Didn’t know Buck was harborin’ such a pretty little secret. Take a look at this prize, Dave.”

His buddy, ‘Dave’, snickered beside him, resting a lazy arm around Mike’s shoulders. “Oh, what a pretty thing you are. City girl, right? You bored with these two yet? You know, we could show you a real good time.”

Steve shot you a careful look. “Just ignore them—”

“I’m good where I am, thanks,” you answered sternly, the words out before you could even register Steve’s warning.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving Mike’s. “I said get lost.”

They ignored him again.

Mike tilted his head at you, a lopsided, ugly smirk on his face as he adjusted his footing, nearly stumbling. “You’re probably gettin’ real tired of being stuck with these two nobodies,” he scoffed. “Why don’tcha hang out with real men like us?”

That was when Bucky’s hand curled into a white-knuckled fist on the table.

Steve reached out, his fingers brushing Bucky’s forearm as a warning. “Buck.” Then, he faced the men, his voice calm and level. “Alright. That’s enough. She’s with us. Go stick with your arm wrestling and leave us be.”

Dave laughed—a mean, loud sound—and reached over to give Bucky a mocking nudge on the shoulder. “Yeah, listen to your boy-toy, Barnes. Like the loyal dog you are.”

Steve’s brow twitched. “What the hell did you just say to him?”

You rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, leaning in with a worried look. “Bucky, I think we should just go—”

But before you could finish the sentence, Steve moved in one quick, explosive motion—his boots hit the floor hard as he lunged out of the booth. A blur of movement followed as his fist cracked straight across Dave’s jaw. The brutal, clean punch of skin-against-skin echoed through the bar, followed by a startled gasps of people who stood nearby.

Mike blinked in shock, watching his friend drop, then let out a roar and swung at Steve. The punch caught Steve high on the cheekbone, snapping his head to the side.

People jumped out of their chairs, wood scraping against floorboards as they shouted and lifted their drinks. “Fight, fight, fight!”

“Jesus Christ!” you gasped, quickly getting up. You nudged Bucky in the shoulder hard. “Bucky, grab Steve and let’s get out of here—!”

But Bucky was already standing, and he had absolutely no intention of ending it.

His blue eyes were filled with fury as he closed the distance to Mike. He grabbed the man by the shoulder, spinning him around just to deliver a devastating blow straight to his face—then another immediately to his gut, sending Mike doubling over.

“Fuckin’ Barnes!” Mike wheezed.

A circle formed around them almost instantly, leaving you trapped inside the booth with no escape. People cheered, laughing and whooping as if this were a Friday night show rather than a real fight.

“Knock ’em silly, Rogers!”

“Your punches are gettin’ sloppy, Barnes!”

Your heart thumped fast in your chest as punches flew in a blur and blood splattered the floor. You twisted in your seat, scanning the room desperately for anyone who might step in—a security guard, a bouncer, any responsible grown-up.

The bartender just threw his head back and laughed, wiping the counter with a rag. “Ah, hell,” he called over the noise, sounding more amused than concerned. “Didn’t think it’d only take two drinks tonight.”

A few men near the bar raised their glasses, toasting to the chaos.

“Hey! Can someone stop them?!” you tried again, but no one heard you. Or, more likely, no one cared.

A couple of the older women at the card table barely glanced up from their game, still laughing among themselves.

“They’ll walk it off,” a guy at a nearby table said casually, taking a slow sip of his beer.

“Barnes always did have a temper,” one of the elderly women added from the card table, her voice sounding almost fond of the memory.

You watched in horror as Bucky and Mike stumbled into a nearby table, knocking it over and sending beers flying as they exchanged heavy blows. Next to them, Steve had Dave in a chokehold while Dave repeatedly drove his elbow into Steve’s gut, making him recoil with every hit.

The bartender noticed you trying to push your way out of the booth, your hands waving in frantic, useless circles as you tried to get him to stop the madness.

“Don’t try to fix it, city girl!” he called out, his booming voice carrying over the crowd. “They’ll be done when they’re done!”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat. Just then, the room erupted into cheers as Steve delivered a massive hook to Dave’s jaw, sending him crashing to the floor. Dave groaned, spitting blood onto the floorboards as he tried to push himself back up.

Steve stood over him, chest heaving as he adjusted his stance. “You done?”

Dave wiped his mouth. “Not even close.”

“Good,” Steve huffed, raising his fists again. “I could do this all day.”

Oh.

Despite the panic, a snort escaped you at how ridiculously corny that was. Yet for some reason, the line seemed to amp up the crowd even more—as if he were a pro wrestler and that was his legendary signature catchphrase.

“That’s it, Rogers!”

“Yeah! Show ’em!”

“Knock his teeth out!”

As you looked between the men, your shoulders eased just slightly. You realized Mike and Dave were in far worse condition than Bucky and Steve.

They weren’t losing.

They were in complete control, moving like they’d fought like this a plenty of times before. It was as if this bar floor had been their training ground since they were kids.

With a defeated sigh, you tipped your beer back and took several long swallows, emptying the bottle in one go. The cheap alcohol hit your system, mixing with the leftover adrenaline and replacing your earlier panic with a sudden, sharp spark of excitement.

You slammed the empty bottle down on the table, cupped your hands around your mouth, and shouted over the roar of the crowd.

“Kick his ass, Steve!”

A few heads turned—some giving you surprised glances—while other men cheered along with you.

“Come on, Buck—you can do better than that!” you yelled.

Bucky blinked at you, a surprised smile ghosting over his bloodied face before he used your voice as fuel to keep going.

Steve ducked a sloppy swing from Dave, landing a clean hook that snapped the man’s head to the side. Dave staggered backward, fighting to stay upright as the crowd erupted. Meanwhile, Bucky had Mike pinned against the floor, each punch making the wood rattle and creak.

You watched, breath caught in your throat. You were worried about their safety, but God—they were good at this.

And they looked good doing it.

Their hair was damp with sweat, trailing over their faces as they grunted and delivered heavy blows. You couldn’t help but notice the way their muscles flexed or the way the veins stood out on their large, powerful hands.

The brawl continued until more tables were upended and bottles shattered, glass spraying everywhere as the locals scrambled to avoid the crossfire.

Finally, the bartender slapped his rag onto the counter with a sharp, fed-up sigh.

“Alright! That’s enough!”

Steve grabbed Dave by the shirt, his fist cocked back, while Bucky buried another punch into Mike’s stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs. The bartender’s patience finally snapped for good.

“I SAID THAT’S ENOUGH!”

The room finally fell quiet.

He jabbed a finger towards the entrance. “Barnes. Rogers. OUT. And take Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum with you before you bleed all over my damn floor.”

By the time you all made it back to the farm, the night air had cooled significantly, the crickets still humming lazily just as they had before you left. Lucy rumbled to a stop, and the three of you climbed out in silence.

As you approached the house, the porch light flickered on with a weak, twitching buzz.

In the dim yellow glow, you finally saw the extent of the damage.

Steve’s cheekbone was already swelling, a dark bruise blooming beneath the skin, while dried blood traced a path from his split lip to his chin. His knuckles were raw and scraped open. Bucky didn’t look much better—one brow was split, a smear of red trailing down his temple, and dust was ground so deeply into his clothes it looked like he’d rolled through every inch of the town’s dirt.

“Well,” Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess we’ll turn in. Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Bucky added, brushing dirt off his shirt like that would somehow fix anything. “Let us know if you need anythin’, doll. We’ll keep the door unlocked for you.”

They both turned to the door, but your voice made them stop.

“No,” you said sternly.

They both looked back, Steve tilting his head in confusion. “No?”

“You guys are not going to bed like that.” You gestured wildly between their bruised faces. “You’re both bleeding. You’re filthy. And—God, both of your knuckles look like ground meat.”

Bucky glanced down at his fists and mumbled, “It’s not that bad…”

“It is,” you insisted.

He shrugged. “Fine. We’ll rinse off with some cold water and soap. Done.”

“Not done,” you corrected sharply. “You’ll wake up with infections and crusted in blood. You guys were rolling all over a floor covered in God-knows-what.”

They exchanged a glance, not really knowing what to say. You narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Inside. Now,” you ordered.

Steve opened his mouth, holding up a hand. “Honey, we’re fine. You should get some rest—”

You ignored him, pointing firmly past him toward the house. “Go.”

Inside, you guided them to the kitchen table like scolded schoolboys. Steve sat down, his posture stiff and awkward, while Bucky leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. He was trying to play it cool, though he clearly had no idea what to do with himself.

It had been years since they were in this position—not since they were kids and Steve’s mom was patching them up after a rough day of playing in the dirt and getting into scrapes. Back then, they’d have wide grins on their faces as she kissed their "boo-boos" goodbye.

But now, as grown men with a beautiful woman in their home tending to them, they were both as stiff as a load of bricks.

They watched in silence as you filled a bowl with warm water, found a clean cloth, and grabbed the small first-aid tin they pointed out in one of the cabinents.

You sat down in front of Steve. “Alright,” you murmured, dipping the cloth and wringing it out. “You’re first.”

You pulled your chair closer, tucking yourself between his knees as you gently tilted his face toward the warm overhead light. The bruise across his cheekbone looked even worse up close. When you pressed the damp cloth to his skin, he flinched.

“Sorry,” you whispered, softening your touch.

“S’okay,” he murmured back. “It feels nice.”

Bucky watched from the counter, his jaw clenching. He couldn’t quite place the feeling in his chest; all he knew was that he wanted the same focused attention Steve was getting.

So, when you said, “Bucky, come here. I’ll do you next,” his feet moved without hesitation.

He grabbed a chair and dragged it right up behind you—perhaps a little too close in his eagerness. He settled in as he impatiently waited his turn, sandwiching you between the two of them.

“Both of you,” you said, setting the bowl down and picking up the gauze. “Watch me. That way, when someone’s not here to take care of you, you can take care of each other the next time you get into a bar fight.”

You took Steve’s hand, and he shuddered at the contact. As you carefully wrapped his split knuckles, your fingertips grazed the sensitive skin of his inner wrist, making him swallow hard.

You could feel Bucky’s presence right behind you. He leaned over your shoulder, watching your hands work. Seeing how softly you cared for Steve hit him with a deep sense of longing he couldn’t hide anymore. He sighed softly, resting his forehead against your back, his rough hand finding your waist to give it a gentle, needy squeeze.

“I… need attention, too,” Bucky mumbled.

You finished wrapping Steve’s hand, snipping the excess gauze with a pair of scissors. A soft chuckle escaped you at Bucky’s blunt admission.

“Well,” you teased. “Maybe if you two hadn’t started a fight, you wouldn’t be in such desperate need of my attention.”

“We had to defend you, baby,” Bucky sighed. His hands palmed your waist, making you gasp softly.

For Bucky, there was something grounding about your proximity—the way you felt under his hands was relieving for him after the chaos of a long day.

“They were lookin’ at you with bad intentions, sweetheart,” Steve added, leaning in even closer as his eyes bored into yours. “We were just tryna protect you.”

You picked the towel back up, looking deep into Steve’s gaze. He was staring at you so intensely that it made the air feel thin. If you leaned in just an inch further, you could have kissed him.

And judging by the way his gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips, he was thinking the exact same thing.

“I’ve been stared at and talked about by plenty of nasty men in the city,” you explained softly, wringing the towel over the bowl. “But not once did anyone defend me the way you two did. You’ve both done so much for me since I got here, and I don’t know how to pay you back.” You lifted the damp cloth. “This is the least I can do.”

“You being here, taking care of us… that’s more than enough,” Bucky rasped.

You turned in your chair to face him, your brow furrowing as you took in his split skin. When you dabbed the towel gently against the cut, he hissed.

“You might need a butterfly bandage for your brow.” You frowned.

Despite the sting, Bucky let out a rough chuckle. “You’re speakin’ a different language, darlin’.”

You rummaged through the tin and, to your surprise, managed to find one. You held up the bandage; it was still in its wrapping, though the edges were a bit frayed.

“How long has this been in here?” you asked.

Steve shrugged. “I dunno. We don’t really use the kit. Not since my ma passed.”

“It should be fine,” you shrugged. “Better than nothing.” Because of Bucky’s height, even with him sitting, you had to stand up to get a clear look at the wound.

“Hold still,” you whispered, reaching out to push a few long, dark locks of hair out of his face.

Bucky’s hands didn’t stay still, they continued to roam around your waist, originally with the intention to steady you as you stood over him, but his touch was growing bolder.

He let out a low shudder as your fingers trailed over his forehead, smoothing his hair out of the way. The sensation of being taken care of by you finally broke through him as his palms slid from your sides toward the small of your back, pulling you just an inch closer.

Bucky looked up at you, his eyes dark and heavy—and it had nothing to do with the exhaustion of the day.

“You feel so warm underneath my hands, baby,” Bucky rasped, his thumbs grazing the hem of your shirt. “I like this sight. You takin’ care of us. Ain’t that right, Stevie?”

You felt the floorboards creak as Steve rose from his chair. A second later, his presence loomed behind you, solid and warm. You were completely trapped between them now—Bucky’s hands at your waist and Steve’s shadow falling over your back.

Steve leaned in, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, sending a shiver straight down your spine that made your hands tremble as you held the bandage.

“You’re right, Buck,” Steve murmured against the smooth skin of your neck, resting his hands on your hips. “I like this. Very much.”

You stood frozen as Steve’s nose brushed against the sensitive spot behind your ear while Bucky’s grip on your waist tightened, his thumbs tracing slow, and smooth circles over your hips.

“You guys…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper—breathless and trembling. You tried to focus on Bucky, your fingers shaking as you finally pressed the butterfly bandage over the split in his brow.

He leaned his face into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he let out a long, heavy exhale.

“Shhh,” Bucky murmured, his voice vibrating. He shifted his head to press a soft, lingering kiss to the palm of your hand. “Just stay here, baby. Let us hold you. We’ve had a long day.”

Behind you, Steve’s hands slid fully around to your front, his large palms splaying across your stomach as he pulled your back against his broad chest. He buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his lips grazing your skin as he spoke.

“Buck’s right,” Steve rumbled, his arms acting like a warm, heavy anchor. “Just for a minute. Stay right here.”

The silence of the night outside amplified the low, gravelly tones of their voices. They both spoke as if you weren’t there—or as if you were a prize— talking over and around you while their hands continued their slow, possessive exploration of your body.

“Fuck, she’s so soft, Stevie,” Bucky groaned.

His eyes were still closed, his forehead resting against your stomach as his hands slid lower, his calloused palms molding to the curve of your backside. “I didn’t think skin could be this soft.”

“Smells so good, too,” Steve murmured into your hair, his voice vibrating through your spine. He took a deep, shaky breath as his stubble grazed your neck. “Like vanilla… something sweet.”

Bucky let out a dark, huffed laugh, his grip tightening to let you know he wasn’t letting go. “What’d I say? A pretty girl taking care of us… ain’t this the dream? Makes you wanna keep her all to ourselves.”

Your breath hitched and your gaze dropped, looking down at Bucky as he sat between your legs. Through the thin fabric of your clothes, you could feel the heat of his body, but it was the sight of his heavy denim that made your heart skip a beat.

The friction of your bodies pressed together had clearly taken its toll because a prominent, hard bulge was straining against the fly of his jeans, mere inches from your legs.

Before you could even process the sight, you felt Steve shift behind you. He leaned his weight into your back, his large hands firmly placed on your hips. Then, he gave a subtle and slow rock of his hips, pressing his own growing hardness firmly against you from behind.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Steve whispered against your ear, his deep voice making your legs tremble. “You’re shaking.”

“It’s just… you guys are—” you swallowed nervously, embarrassment rushing to your face. “Hard.”

Bucky chuckled lowly, his hand coming down to palm himself through his jeans.

“Do you want us to stop, baby? We can stop—” he groaned, palming himself even harder as he looked at you with hungry eyes. “We’re good boys. We’ll stop if you want us to. We can behave. Right, Stevie?”

Steve was behind you, getting bolder with his movements as he rocked his hips deeper against the curve of your ass.

“Yes,” he grunted. “We’re good. Very good boys.”

Their hands continued roaming over your body eagerly. Bucky’s breath grew heavier as he touched himself through his pants, and the feel of Steve’s rock-hard erection pressing against you while he planted soft kisses on your neck was enough to make your head spin.

The whole kitchen reeked of lust, like there was spell in the air that only made you want them more and more.

“D-don’t stop,” you breathed, your eyes hazy with desire. “This is the least I can do to pay you guys back, right?”

Steve let out a sharp sigh and Bucky groaned so deeply—it was practically a growl.

Bucky pushed himself off his chair, his movements powerful and sudden as he crowded into your space. He didn’t give you a chance to breathe before his mouth crashed onto yours.

His kiss wasn’t gentle or patient; it was hungry and demanding, and you could taste the faint, bitter tang of the beer from earlier. His tongue swept against yours, a low, possessive sound vibrating in his throat as his hands moved from your waist to cup your face, his calloused thumbs brushing over your burning cheeks.

Now that Bucky was standing, Steve was able to press even closer, his large body a solid wall of heat against your back. His hands, now wrapped in the gauze from your careful work, slid upward from your hips.

One hand splayed across your stomach, bunching the fabric of your dress beneath his fingers as he pulled you firmly against his hips, rocking into you. Meanwhile, his other hand moved higher, his fingers groping your tits through the thin material.

Steve buried his face in the crook of your shoulder. “So good,” he murmured against your skin. “You fit so perfectly between us, sweetheart.”

You were drowning between them—lost in the friction of Bucky’s tongue and the way Steve’s hands explored your curves from behind. Your senses were completely overwhelmed. Every time Bucky tilted your head to deepen the kiss, Steve would find a new patch of skin on your neck to mark with his lips, leaving you gasping into Bucky’s mouth.

“Shit, baby,” Bucky groaned against your lips.

His hand slid down your arm, his fingers locking firmly with yours. He guided your hand down between your bodies, pressing your palm directly over the hard, straining heat of his denim. You could feel him twitch beneath your fingertips.

“Touch us, baby,” Bucky groaned, rocking his hips into your hand, his voice desperate. “Don’t be shy now. You wanted to take care of us, didn’t you?”

The friction of your palm against him made his eyes roll back for a second. Steve let out a low, approving growl against your neck. He reached around, his own hand covering yours, adding his strength to the movement as he pressed your hand even firmer against Bucky.

“That’s it,” Steve encouraged, his breath hitching as he watched your hand work. “Look at how tiny your hand looks against him. You like that, don’t you? Feeling so small and helpless between us?”

Bucky’s head fell back, his jaw tight as he fought for air. “God, Stevie…” he moaned. “Help her—guide her hand against me—fuck, just like that…”

Steve’s hand tightened over yours, his movements guiding the friction of your palm against Bucky’s heat. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear; his voice was a gravelly, commanding rumble.

“Get on your knees and take care of my best friend, would ya?”

“O…okay…”

You sank to the floor, the wood cool and hard against your skin as you settled between Bucky’s boots. He let out a ragged breath, his hands immediately finding your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands to tilt your head back so he could look down at you with raw, uncontrollable hunger.

But you weren’t alone on the floor for long. You felt the floorboards groan as Steve knelt directly behind you, his massive frame shielding you from the rest of the room. His large hands slid under the hem of your dress, gathering the fabric upward until it was bunched around your waist, leaving your skin bare to the kitchen air.

As you reached for Bucky’s belt, your fingers fumbling slightly with the heavy leather, you felt Steve’s hand slide between your thighs. His thumb dragged across your clothed clit with a slow, agonizing pressure that made your back arch and your head drop onto Bucky’s lap.

“Focus, sweetheart,” Steve taunted from behind you with a low, condescending laugh. His other hand came around to cup breasts—teasing your nipple through your dress, holding you steady as his thumb continued to work you. “Take it off him. He’s been waiting all day.”

With a sharp tug, you finally eased Bucky’s jeans down. When he finally sprang free, the sight made the air leave your lungs in a sharp gasp. He was thick and heavy, his skin taut and pulsing with a heat you could feel even before you touched him.

Bucky let out a low groan at the sensation of being exposed, his hands tightening in your hair. He seemed to preen under your shocked gaze, his hips giving a small, instinctive twitch towards your face.

Steve chuckled darkly behind you. His hand was still buried between your thighs, and as his thumb made another slow, heavy pass over you, he felt the sudden, hot gush of moisture through your panties that coated his fingers.

“Fuck, Bucky. Look at that. It’s like she got even wetter just seeing how big you are.”

Bucky reached down, his fingers trembling as he cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“Is that right, darlin’?” he chuckled, his thumb catching on your bottom lip. “You like what you see?”

“Think you can fit me in your tiny little mouth, baby?” Bucky challenged. You watched as his cock throbbed, the tip already leaking and eager to be inside your mouth.

You swallowed hard. You weren’t sure if you could; you had spent a handful of nights with men in the city, but none of them were of… this size.

“I don’t know,” you admitted embarrassingly, your hand coming up to circle his shaft. “But I’ll try—”

Growing impatient, he pressed the head of his cock against the seal of your lips, the warmth making your heart beat faster.

“It’s okay,” Bucky reassured, breathing hard above you as he began pushing past your lips. “Steve will help you. Ain’t that right, Steve?”

You weren’t sure what he meant by having Steve help you, but he didn’t give you much room to think or ask anyway. He probed his length more firmly against your lips, forcing you to open up. You began taking in as much of his thick length as you could manage, your tongue swirling around the broad head as you started to bob your head rhythmically.

“Fuuuuck, that’s it,” Bucky hissed.

His hands stayed firmly anchored in your hair, his knuckles white as he held you in place. Behind you, Steve became even more relentless. You felt his fingers hook into the elastic of your panties, tugging them aside until he could slide two fingers deep into your slick heat.

“God—you’re accepting me so easily, baby. Bet you’ve been wantin’ this from the moment we picked you up, huh?” Steve whispered, kissing your ear as he continued to work his fingers inside you.

“Jesus—Steve, I wish you could feel how warm her fuckin’ mouth is,” Bucky moaned, tossing his head back while giving you shallow, sharp thrusts. “This—this is incredible…”

The dual sensation was a sensory overload of pleasure—the feeling of Bucky stretching your mouth while Steve’s fingers curled inside you, hitting your sweet spot with every rhythmic movement of his hand.

“More… more…” Bucky groaned, his voice breaking as he tilted his hips up to meet you halfway. He was desperate, his breath coming in short, jagged hitches.

“You hear that, baby? He wants more,” Steve said.

He wasn’t just watching anymore.

His desire to see his best friend satisfied was overriding his patience.

You let out a small, muffled whimper of protest against Bucky’s shaft, your eyes watering as you reached your limit, but Steve didn’t let you pull away. He placed his large, heavy palm on the back of your head and…

… firmly pushed you down against Bucky’s cock.

Your eyes went wide as you took Bucky deeper than you thought possible, his length hitting the very back of your throat. He let out a sound that was half of a groan and a sob—a loud, desperate moan that echoed through the kitchen. He bucked his hips upward, losing all composure as he finally found the depth he’d been craving.

“Fuck—oh my god,” Bucky gasped, his eyes rolling back. “Just like that—keep her head down, Stevie—shit. Feels too damn good!”

The kitchen was filled with the lewd sounds of his ragged, uncontrolled breathing and the wet slide of your mouth working over him. Steve’s fingers were moving just as frantically inside you now, his rhythm matching the desperate pace of Bucky’s thrusts.

“That’s it, sweetheart, take it all,” Steve growled from behind you. “Keep your eyes open. Look at him. You’ve got him falling apart. Give him everything.”

Bucky’s eyes were blown wide, staring down at you with overwhelming lust.

“Fuck, Steve… she’s perfect. Her mouth—so tight… so warm,” he gasped, his voice cracking. He began to thrust more wildly, his hips snapping forward as he searched for that final bit of release.

“I’m gonna—fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum. Don’t you dare stop. Steve, hold her head. She’s gonna swallow every drop for me.”

“Do it, Buck,” Steve encouraged, his thumb hitting your clit with a press that sent sparks through your vision. “Fill her mouth up. Show her how much we needed this.”

Bucky finally snapped.

He bucked his hips hard against your face, his entire body shuddering as he began to pulse deep in your mouth. You whimpered, your hands gripping his thighs for balance as you felt the hot, heavy waves of his release hitting the back of your throat, making you choke around his shaft.

“Christ—God, her mouth is so warm… shit, Steve. You hear her chokin’ around me? She can barely swallow it down!”

“She’s fluttering all over my fingers too, Buck,” Steve groaned. “She’s gonna cum—I can feel it.”

Bucky finally pulled his cock out of your mouth with a wet, sloppy pop, his release dribbling down your chin as you fought for breath. Your head was dizzy from how brutally he had used your mouth and how deeply Steve was fingering you.

“Steve,” you gasped. “Don’t stop—please. Don’t stop—!”

But Steve didn’t give you the release you were begging for.

He abruptly curled his fingers and pulled them out of you with a sharp, wet sound that left you feeling cold and aching. You let out a cry of frustration, your hips twitching involuntarily to the space where his hand had just been.

Steve stood up, the floorboards creaking under his massive weight. He didn’t look satisfied. If anything, watching Bucky use you had only made him look more predatory. His hands went straight to his belt, the leather creaking as he unbuckled it impatiently.

“You don’t cum until you please the both of us first, darlin’,” Steve commanded.

“Steve, please,” you whined, turning around so that your hands tugged at his jeans. “I was so close.” You looked at Bucky next, frowning. “Bucky?”

“He ain’t gonna help you, baby,” Steve said. “On the table,” he ordered, nodding to the sturdy wooden surface where the medical supplies had been scattered. “Get up there and show us how much you want it. Lay on your back for me.”

Bucky was still catching his breath, leaning against the counter with a dazed, satisfied smirk.

“You heard him, baby,” he rasped, his voice still rough from his climax. “Better be a good girl and please him well.”

With your face burning in embarrassment and two sets of eyes watching your every move, you crawled onto the table, your panties soaked and dripping between your thighs. You slowly settled down on your back, with Steve standing before you and Bucky making his way to the other side.

Steve stepped up, reaching down and hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, stripping them down your legs and tossing them onto the kitchen floor.

As soon as you were bare, he stepped into the space between your thighs, the heavy, scorching weight of his cock poking against your entrance. He was even longer than Bucky—not quite as thick, perhaps, but still more than big enough to stretch you to your absolute limit.

“Look at you,” Steve murmured, staring at you with hazy eyes as he stroked his length. “Look how ready you are for me.”

Bucky stepped closer, jeans still around his ankles, as he gripped his own half-hard length. He jerked himself off with slow, heavy pumps, his gaze fixed on Steve as he prepared to take you. With his free hand, Bucky grabbed the hem of your dress and hiked it all the way up to your neck, exposing your breasts to the cool air and their burning gazes.

“So pretty,” Bucky whispered in awe, as if he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

He leaned over, his fingers gently playing with your nipples as you whimpered and squirmed on the table, caught between the two of them.

Your heels dug into the wood of the table as you arched your back, the friction of Steve’s heat against your entrance making you whine. You were desperate for the fullness, your body burning with an unfinished ache that Steve was intentionally prolonging.

“Please,” you whimpered, your hands reaching out to grab Steve’s muscular forearms. “Steve, please... I need it.”

“Jesus,” Bucky rasped, his eyes dark with a mix of affection and hunger. “She’s so damn cute when she’s begging like this. Make it last, okay? I want to see our girl come apart nice and slow.”

“I’ll try,” Steve managed, his voice strained. He slowly pushed the broad head of his cock past your folds, stretching you open just enough to make you gasp before he pulled back, teasing the very edge of your sanity.

“Steve—please! Stop with the teasing, I can’t—” you begged, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Steve’s jaw clenched tight as he hissed through his teeth. “I know, baby girl. I know.”

Deep down, he wasn’t intentionally trying to tease you. The feel of your wet tightness already clamping down on him made him remember how long it had been since he’d fucked anything other than his own hand.

And it meant that, despite Bucky’s request, he likely wouldn’t be lasting nearly as long as he wanted to.

He slowly pushed in deeper and deeper, each inch making you gasp and arch your back off the table as you tried to adjust to his size.

“F-fuck, Steve!” you moaned.

Finally, he bottomed out completely inside you, his massive weight pressing you down into the sturdy wood of the table. Every time he slammed his hips forward, the medical supplies rattled and the table groaned under the force.

“Fuck, too tight,” he hissed.

His big arms circled your frame, holding you tightly as he began fucking you with a desperate, frantic hunger.

“God, you’re so tight,” Steve repeated, “so fucking warm.”

Bucky was right there, leaning over the side of the table to catch every detail. The sight of Steve losing his usual composure—seeing his best friend’s broad back muscles tensing and rippling as he drove into you—had Bucky’s cock snapping back to full attention for a second round.

He jerked himself off faster, his eyes darting between your flushed face and the place where Steve was disappearing inside you.

“Tell me how tight she is, Steve,” Bucky urged.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, Buck,” Steve groaned. “She’s squeezin’ me so good—it’s just like you said… a nice, smooth pair of legs wrapped tight around my waist. Fuck—it’s going to be so hard to pull out.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened at Steve’s words, the blue turning to a stormy midnight black. His cock was twitching and pulsing in his hand, slick with his own pre-cum and the lingering wetness from your mouth as he watched Steve’s massive body hammer into yours.

“Pump her full, Steve,” Bucky growled. “Breed her. Fill her up so damn deep she can’t think about anything or anyone else—until she thinks only about us.”

“B-breed…?” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back.

Your head spun at the words. The thought of Steve’s cum filling you— of that thick, heavy seed flooding your core while Bucky watched—sent a violent jolt of overwhelming pleasure through your body.

You felt your walls contract, clamping down on Steve’s length—milking him so hard that it made him choke on his own breath.

“B-Buck…” Steve gasped, his pace becoming erratic. He was losing the fight for control. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he felt your climax beginning to roll over him. “She’s so close… God, I’m gonna—”

“Cum inside her,” Bucky urged, leaning in close until his breath hitched against your ear. “Fill her up and make her our girl, Stevie. Pump her so full she’ll never want anyone else.”

The command from Bucky was the final blow to Steve’s restraint.

With a low, hungry roar that vibrated against your chest, Steve bucked. He rocked his hips into you one last time, pinning you to the table with his full weight as he bottomed out.

“Christ, take it, sweetheart! Oh—fuck, take it—”

His body went rigid as he began to pour himself into you. You felt the hot, thick jets of his release hit the very back of your womb. It felt like he was never going to stop—years of pent-up sexual frustration finally rearing its head.

Your mind fractured. The internal pressure of him, combined with the mental image of being bred, sent you over the edge.

“Oh my god, Steve! I’m—I’m gonna cum—!” you screamed into the crook of his neck, your walls seizing and pulsing in a violent, uneven rhythm that milked him for every last drop.

“Fuck—yes—take it all, baby,” Steve groaned, his voice jagged as he shuddered against you, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder.

Bucky stood before you, panting as he watched the liquid evidence of Steve’s climax begin to seep out and coat your thighs. Seeing you stretched and filled by his best friend was too much; with his own cock already hard again, he was more than ready for round two.

And this time, he wanted to be the one inside.

Steve slowly pulled out of you, the sound of the wet, suctioning release loud against the heavy breathing between the three of you. You let out a broken gasp, your body feeling hollow and sensitive as the cool air hit where his heat had just been. A thick trail of his release began to spill over your thighs, coating the wooden table beneath you.

Steve leaned down, his eyes a bit softer than they were before, reaching out to hook his arms under yours to help you up. “C’mere, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned—”

“Move aside, Steve.”

Bucky’s voice was like a whip crack.

He stomped over, his boots heavy on the floor, and physically brushed Steve’s hands away from you. There was no gentleness left in him now; his jaw was set, and his eyes were fixed on the mess Steve had left behind.

“Bucky?” you asked softly, trying to catch your breath. “Are you okay—?”

“I’m not done with her,” Bucky growled.

Before you could reply, he grabbed your hips and flipped you over. Your face was pressed down into the hard, cool wood of the table, your cheek flat against the surface as he forced your ass up high.

“B-Buck—!”

Without warning, Bucky lined himself up against your puffy slit, and in one aggressive motion, he buried himself deep in your overstimulated heat. You let out a muffled shriek against the table as he began to fuck you doggy-style, one hand pinning your head down while his other gripped your waist tightly.

“Fuck!” Bucky barked, biting his lip. “She is tight, Steve. Fuckin’ hell… like a tight, warm and wet fist wrapped around my cock.”

“Bucky—haaah, I… It’s too much—fuck—oh!”

The friction was almost too much to bear. You were a babbling, overstimulated mess, your voice reduced to broken sobs and incoherent pleas against the wood of the table.

With every heavy, bottoming-out thrust, you could feel Bucky physically pushing Steve’s cum deeper into your core. It was a strange, overwhelming sensation—the feeling of being claimed by one man while the other’s mark was forced even further inside you.

Steve stood by the side of the table, his chest still heaving as he watched. He looked genuinely surprised, a small, breathless huff of laughter escaping him as he watched Bucky go to work. “Christ, Buck... you're still going? Fuck. You’re ruinin’ her.”

Bucky only grunted like an animal in response as he gripped your waist tighter, rocking his hips even harder.

You were a drooling, slutty mess on the table, and the pathetic sight made Steve smile softly at you in sympathy. He reached out, his large hand stroking your sweat-dampened hair away from your face. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your temple while Bucky hammered into your hips from behind.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, his voice a soothing balm against Bucky’s relentless pace. “Just let him in, darlin’. Such a good girl, taking him so deep for us. Just breathe through it for me.”

“Stevie,” you whined, your voice pitching higher. “He’s so th—thick… he’s stretching me so much…”

“I know, baby,” Steve murmured. You weren’t sure if his words were meant to soothe you, but his tone was shifting, becoming almost condescending—as if your overstimulated state was exactly where he wanted you.

He watched with a possessive sheen in his eyes as Bucky’s hips continued to batter against you. “Cum inside her, Bucky. Fill her up.”

Bucky let out a ragged, disbelieving laugh between the loud creaks of the table. “Shit, Stevie… you want me to knock her up too?”

Steve just kept stroking your hair, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear. “It’s just like you said—a pretty girl like her staying home and takin’ care of us. Don’t you want that, Buck? To see her round, glowin’, and barefoot? Somethin’ about keepin’ the house warm?”

The rhythm of Bucky’s thrusts faltered for a split second before becoming twice as violent. A low, needy sound escaped him.

“Fuck… I want that so bad. More than anythin’. Shit.”

Bucky leaned down, his chest crushing against your back, his voice sending tingles down your spine. “I’m going to breed her. She’s stayin’ here with us, Stevie. We’re makin’ her ours for good.”

The thought should’ve terrified you, but as you lay there pinned between them, lost in a haze of pure, unadulterated lust, the idea only turned you on even more. Your only concern now was whether you could even contain Bucky’s release inside you.

“I—I don’t think I can,” you babbled against the table, your words slipping out between broken gasps. “…take it… take Bucky’s cum… I—”

Steve didn’t let your panic spiral. He leaned down further, his large, warm hand moving from your hair to cup your jaw, forcing you to tilt your head so he could look you in the eye.

“Yes, you can, sweetheart,” Steve cooed. “You’re made for this. You’re made for us. Just relax those pretty muscles and let him in.”

He then pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his thumb stroking your cheekbone even as Bucky’s pace turned frantic.

“Look at her, Buck,” Steve whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. “She’s worried she can’t hold it all. Tell her what you’re gonna do.”

Bucky let out a choked, desperate sound, his fingers digging into your hips. “I’m gonna fill her to the brim,” he rasped, his breath hot against the back of your neck. “I’m gonna fill her so full she’ll leak all over the table.”

Another needy moan tore from his chest. “G-gonna knock her up until there’s—fuck— atleast one brunette and one blonde baby runnin’ around the house, Stevie.”

At Bucky’s nasty words, your walls spasmed, clenching around him as your second orgasm finally shattered. You let out a high, broken cry against the table, your vision sparking white as you came right along with him—completely spent, completely undone.

With a final, sloppy, and shaky thrust, Bucky fucked into you one last time. He groaned your name as his body locked up. You felt the first hot stream of his release hit you, and your eyes went wide as he began to pump himself empty.

He held you pinned to the table, his weight crushing you down, ensuring that every drop of his heat was forced deep into the space Steve had already claimed. “Yes, yes—that’s it…!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve praised, his voice thick with pride. He watched the way your body jolted with every pulse of Bucky’s climax. “Takin’ it all, keepin’ it all inside for us. Such a good, fertile little thing.”

Bucky stayed heavy against you for a long time, his chest rising and falling in deep, heavy breaths.

Slowly, he eventually began to pull out. You let out a small, needy whimper at the loss of his heat, your body feeling heavy and thoroughly used. A thick, creamy mixture of both men began to spill out of you, making a mess of your inner thighs and dripping onto the dark wood of the table. He hooked his arm under your waist and gently pulled you back against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

“Look at that,” Bucky rasped, his voice rough with post-coital bliss as he looked down at the mess they had made of you. He pressed a firm, possessive kiss to the top of your head. “You’re ours now, pretty girl. Every inch of you.”

Steve moved in from the side, his expression soft as he watched the two of you. He leaned down and wiped a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb before pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Our best girl,” Steve echoed softly, his large hand coming to rest over your stomach, splaying wide and possessive.

“We’re gonna take such good care of you. You’re never going anywhere else.”

I am so sorry about the massive wordcount. I got carried away at the end w/ all of the smut 🚬 anyways, credits to @earthsmightiestbenders for helping me come up with this massive filth of a line:

“G-gonna knock her up until there’s—fuck— atleast one brunette and one blonde baby runnin’ around the house, Stevie.”

thank you for taking the time to read my work, and I hope you enjoyed!

[biteofcherry]

Equinox

god!Ari Levinson x god!Curtis Everett x female reader x god!Steve Rogers

summary: Perhaps it's pitiful to pray for the gods' mercy when they've been deaf to all the sacrifices made for them by the anointed zhrets, but you wanted to try.

warnings: Consensual. Gangbang (but a soft one). Inexperienced Reader. Loss of virginity. Oral (both m and f receiving). Unprotected sex. Spitroast. Multiple creampies. Praise kink. A bit of coercion. Very light D/s undertones. Feels and softness are here too.

word count: 7k

Author's Note: The gods in this story are the result of these three polls (1, 2, 3), so you can only blame yourself and other voters. But I believe you will like them and their hoe ways anyway 😆 Honestly, I'm surprised how soft this story turned out, despite being also kinda filthy. It's been a while since you got from me something that's not dark. Happy spring, I guess! 😂

It's very vaguely inspired by Slavic paganism and folklore, but it serves only as the background.

*zhrets is a pagan high priest

Main Masterlist

It wasn’t unusual for the weather in March to sway like a tide - flowing with waves of sunshine warmth only to pull back and leave freezing cold instead. Sometimes the frost and harsh rains dominated the whole span of the month, not the least bothered by the supposed burst of spring. 

However, unusual was the year-long devastation that tore your region. 

Seasons seemed to warp, folding in on themselves and changing into unexpected harshness. Droughts that burnt the soil and crops, leading to some fires as well. Hail that roughened softer plants. Then blessed rain turned into floods, which ruined more fields and preserves. 

People starved. Animals fled the woods for more suitable areas. Prayers to the gods brought nothing, no matter how much blood was spilled to appease the deities. 

Just last week the zhrets killed one of the last lambs at the altar, so the gods would see devotion in giving up what’s most precious. 

But not even the slightest change came. The earth remained frozen cold, hard and unyielding. No seed would take root in it. The sun stayed hidden behind the gray heaviness of clouds that seemed endless in the sky. Not a single plant in the gardens and woods blushed with the first bud. 

A full year without fresh crops, without safety and balance. A few families already left the villages, taking a risk in wandering far away in search of better conditions. If change didn’t come this spring, it would be the end for most of you. 

So you wrapped the worn-out pelt around yourself and shuffled across the frost-covered fields and up the hill. At this time of year it used to be already covered in patches of crocuses and snowdrops. It remained a dark, lifeless peak. 

The basket in your hand wasn’t heavy, since you didn’t have much to give. You didn’t fool yourself thinking that your pitiful begging would be any better than that of the anointed zhrets, but you felt desperate. 

Maybe if the sacrifices and prayers came not only from the delegate of the village, but from every person separately, the number of voices calling out to the gods would catch their attention. 

At the top of the hill a circle of stones, with runes painted on them, wrapped around three vertical slates of stone. 

Pristine white, with a single crack that shimmered gold - for the god of sun and fire. 

A grey one, with strokes of blueish and white - for the god of air and rain. 

Reddish overgrown with moss - for the god of earth and fertility. 

Dark spots still marred the bottom of the stones from where the blood sacrifice was spilled. No other marks of worship were left, though in the past it wasn’t uncommon to find bouquets, sweet buns, or nuts placed at the gods’ altars. 

Especially on the spring equinox.

It was the moment when winter was supposed to recede, so the new life could begin. Celebrated with happiness, food and laughter. But people were too hungry, too angry, to bother with customs. They didn’t even have the plants to make bouquets with. Last of the nuts were saved for the kids to munch on. 

With hands trembling from the cold, you placed the basket on the ground and knelt down. Slowly, you took out your modest offerings. Since your garden was barren, you weaved bouquets of what you could gather. 

Anise stars tied to thin twigs with a thread and clumsily painted yellow to resemble marigolds. All tied together with a red ribbon, which you ripped off the hemline of your best dress. For the god of sun and fire. 

For the god of air and rain: bird feathers stuck in a chipped, glass vial in which, once upon a time, your mother had perfumed water that your father bought from a southern merchant as a gift for giving birth to you.  

Last living sprigs of raspberry bush that grew in your garden and a handful of mistletoe. A drop of your blood sank into the strap of linen with which you tied them, from prickling yourself on the raspberry’s thorn. For the god of earth and fertility. 

Perhaps they looked laughable. Perhaps, as some of the people whispered in bitterness, the gods didn’t care for offerings like that and were laughing at your misery. If they even paid attention to the region they decided to decimate. But it was all you got. Along with your determination to try. 

You placed each bouquet on the ground, holding each for a few seconds in place in case the wind decided to swipe them right away. 

“But wouldn’t that be the sign from the god of air that he finds the offerings disrespectful?” You muttered to yourself as your fingertips sank in the harsh frost coating the ground.

The wind didn’t strengthen. In fact, the air felt warmer and lighter as you knelt there at the altar. Considering it was the top of the hill, with no trees surrounding the clearing to form a shield, the gods had to keep the place in some protection. 

A swipe of warmth enveloped your fingers and for a fleeting moment you considered staying there on your knees, prostrated on the ground, just to soak up the warmth and lack of wind; and less to pray to the gods. 

“Nah, Curtis can be a cold bastard, but he wouldn’t diminish such a cute offering.”

An unexpected voice made your head snap up. It was masculine, low, but somehow light and pleasant. And as your gaze settled on its source you found yourself blinking away what had to surely be a mesmer. 

It was a man. Unlike any you ever saw. Tall and broad. All golden skin that seemed to shine from within. He was bare-chested, his lower half clad in pristine white, linen pants. Across his pectorals, as well trailing down from his navel, thick thatch of dark blonde hair curled in soft temptation. His beard had all shades of gold. His eyes were a sparkling blue, vibrant and enticing like a summer sky. 

Even if you convinced yourself a human male could be as reckless as walking around half-naked when it was freezing cold, the tendrils of flames licking his skin betrayed him as something beyond human. 

Your eyes widened, mouth parting in silent astonishment. 

Were you so starved and cold that your mind created illusions? Was it an edge of death when you witnessed a god take you over to the fields of the underworld?

But wouldn’t that be a god of night and death then, who comes for you? You didn’t think he’d look so radiant and carefree, so much like the sun and fire personified. 

“It’s a genuine offering, I never scoff at those.” Sounded another voice, somewhere from behind you. “It’s the reckless spill of resources that annoys me.” 

Still on your knees, you turned. So fast you lost balance and landed on your butt. Your gaze traveled up from his bare feet, up long legs and thick thighs that strained the dark fabric of his pants, and over the wide chest marred with scars. 

His skin was paler, appearing colder, yet had something refreshing to it that called out to lick and taste if it would provide a fresh sip of a spring rain. His beard was trimmed; dark, with spots of grey. His hair was cropped short, close to the scalp. The blue of his eyes was an ongoing storm - changing from light blue to inky darkness, flashes of lightning cutting the irises. 

Everything in you screamed in terrified recognition. No one ever saw the gods. Not even zhrets who was the direct line to them, though he claimed that sometimes they came to him in his dreams. But with every fiber of your being you felt the crushing power surrounding you, as well fascination stronger than any desire you experienced before, and you knew who they were. 

As quickly as you could, you rolled onto your front and pressed your hands and face to the ground.

“My gods! I apologize for daring to look at you!” You expressed. 

“If we didn’t want you seeing us, we wouldn’t show ourselves to you.” A third voice resounded somewhere to your left. Deep and soft. 

“Sit up and look at us, Swallow.”

Comparing you to a small, nimble bird associated with incoming spring evoked a flash of heated shyness. It was almost sweet. A pet name. No man has ever referred to you using one. 

Gulping nervously, you slowly lifted your upper body. Your gaze traced the ground which was covered in frost when you first stepped onto the hill, but now bared the inner softness of soil readying itself for first seeding. It landed at the feet of the third god, and cautiously moved upward.

He wore pelts, like hunters often did. Sculpted hip lines low on his abdomen disappeared beneath the fabric in a shape of V, arrowing your attention to the bulging curve beneath tight leather. His waist was narrow, especially compared to how wide his shoulders were. Each muscle of his abdomen and biceps appeared carved by a sculptor. He could carry the whole world on his shoulders, you thought. 

He was sitting atop the stone altar in his name, so his face was closer to your line of vision. You noticed speckles of green in the blue of his eyes. His curved eyelashes seemed tipped with green, as well. 

“It’s been a while since anyone gave us thoughtful, sweet offerings.” He smiled at you and something bloomed within your chest; like the joy at the sight of the first flowers in your garden. 

“They’re nothing,” you whispered, feeling embarrassed that the gods themselves looked at the pitiful bouquets you made. 

“Most certainly not.” The god of sun stepped closer to your right. 

Warm fingers curled beneath your chin, turning your face to him. When you looked up at him it felt as if the sun was caressing your cheeks, even though you didn’t have to squint your eyes to stand it. 

Gently, he urged you to stand up. A big hand slid beneath the pelts wrapped around you, resting on your waist. Where he touched you, your skin tingled with sunkissed heat that chased away all the cold you suffered for months. 

If only for that comforting, warm feeling, you were ready to die at the hands of the gods.

“You’re most honest and precious,” he said softly, tracing his fingers up from your chin and over your cheek, “a most valuable offering.” 

“I-” your eyes couldn’t shift away from the brilliant blue of his eyes, even as a gasp ripped from your chest when another set of hands slithered beneath your cloak and pulled it off of you in an unrushed but swift move. 

A tickle of air teased the shell of your ear. Both ears. At the same time. The same ghost of breath evoked goosebumps across your chest. 

“We’ll be good to you, Swallow.” Curtis rumbled softly, his hands squeezing your hips as he pressed his chest to your back. 

When his lips pressed to the hollow where neck curved into shoulder, it felt like a splash of summer drizzle. Slightly cool, but refreshing rather than freezing. Paired with the sunlit warmth wrapping around you, it brought the sense of awakening after a year of hanging in dark limbo.

“We promise, don’t we Ari?” A chuckle tickled your skin, rushing your pulse into a wicked response. 

“So good.” The god of sun and fire - Ari - confirmed with a wicked grin. “Over and over and over again.” 

He dipped his head, lips nearing yours. His body inched closer, too. His heat at your front combined with the excitingly thunderous presence of the other god at your back made your head spin. 

You weren’t naive to not realize what they wanted. They didn’t just imply, they acted on it right away. Honest and direct in their approach. A grip of fear clenched around your heart. Partly of them, because you had no idea if a mortal woman could survive being taken by a god. By three! But also because - just like your material offerings - you weren’t sure if you’d be a satisfying lover. What if you disappointed them and thus angered them further? 

“I just- I have never-” you blurted out, eyes closing at the shiver of pleasure as a warm hand brushed under the swell of your breast.

Ari paused, sunlit sky encapsulated in his eyes staring back at you. Then he bowed his head with a groan, as if in defeat. 

Curtis’ chuckle seeped beneath the collar of your shift. He didn’t pause in his ministrations, working his hands at your sides to release the bindings of your outer layer.  

“I’m sorry. Is it bad that I’m, um, inexperienced?” Regret that you felt had less to do with potential repercussions for the crops and more with the prospect of not being touched by them anymore. 

“No, Swallow.” From the side, the god of earth sounded amused. “Ari’s just disappointed that he has to wait his turn. You’re a virgin. That means your first breaking belongs to me.” 

“Oh!” You turned your head to the side, eyes wide in surprise at the revelation. 

The god of earth and fertility was sitting there calmly, watching you caged between the other gods. He didn’t rush to rip your clothes off and ravage you, to take what was supposedly his by some incomprehensible laws. Yet the hunger in his eyes was prominent. 

A dark glint of a predator that has already picked his prey and knew it wouldn’t stand a chance fleeing from him. 

The swirl of heat low in your abdomen suggested you wouldn’t want to run away from his claim.

A hand gripped your chin, turning you to face the god of sun again. 

“Steve’s a lucky bastard like that, but I get to have the first taste.” Ari grinned. Then surged forward. 

Heat erupted in your veins as his mouth took yours. He didn’t kiss you like a first time lover might their shy partner, but a man who owned you. You had no doubt that was exactly the passion you occasionally dreamed about. Better even. 

There was no particular taste to Ari’s lips, but still it reminded you of ripest strawberries, sunkissed earth, honey, and burning wood. 

Ari licked between your lips, opening your mouth to plunge deeper. One hand on your cheek moved to grip the back of your head, while the other tugged your loosened dress down. Curtis’ hands were helping along, or rather leading the undressing part in which Ari marginally helped. 

Then all of your clothes were gone. Instead of cold biting into your skin, you were surrounded by warmth and the softest breeze. Two pairs of hands moved over your naked body, exploring and memorising. Unfamiliar touch that roused your body, yet made it shiver with thrill of unknown and anticipation. 

A strong hand gripped your thigh and pulled it to the side, making you spread your legs wider. Soft, tickling blow of wind brushed your inner thighs then licked along the juncture of your thighs. A gasp escaped your lips, your hips rocking against the invisible touch. 

At the same time, strokes of heat swiped down your chest and kissed the swell of your breasts. Right after that sensation, Ari’s mouth trailed down your neck and lower, toward one of puckered nipples. 

“Such a pretty, delicious offering.” Steve hummed in appreciation. 

Somehow, the fact he was watching you being ravaged - being prepared for him - made you moan louder. Your core fluttered, wetness pearling between your thighs. 

“You’re going to be so good to us, won’t you?” 

Though hands and mouths were distracting, you still felt the very soft tickling beneath and around your feet. With your eyes half-closed and head thrown back, resting on Curtis’ shoulder, you didn’t see the grass sprouting nor the bloom of tiny flowers around you. A soft cushion on which you were going to be splayed. 

“Yesss,” you gasped as Ari sucked harder on your nipple.

“Good girl.” Steve’s praise washed over you in a ripple that dripped more welcome where Curtis’ fingers were inching closer. 

Suddenly you were falling backwards. Steady hands eased you onto the green carpet of grass these lands haven’t seen for years. Your back barely met the ground when Curtis’ lips were stealing your breath. Your little cry of surprise at the brush of Ari’s breath on your pussy  was swallowed by Curtis. 

Your toes curled, calves tensing, yet your legs eagerly spread wider for the god that settled between them. Your fingers clawed at the fresh grass before you couldn’t stop yourself anymore and reached your arms to touch Curtis. 

His tongue teased yours just as Ari’s made the first lick between your folds. 

It was overwhelming, and scary in a way, and you wanted more more more of it. 

Ari’s fingers were digging into your thighs as he feasted on your pussy, Curtis kept cupping and kneading your breast, all the while kissing your breath away. 

You let out a whimper when Curtis pulled away for a moment. Then the air was truly constricting in your chest, your heart pounding with a new kind of fear, as you saw him undo his pants and take out his cock. 

He knelt beside you, fingers gently combing through your hair but taking a firm grip at the roots. With his other hand, he stroked his dick. It wasn’t his own fist over it, but the sight of your widened eyes and sweet, glistening mouth that made him so hard. 

Then Ari sucked on your clit and thrust a single finger into your tight hole, and your face reflected an even more beautiful ruin. 

Your lips parted wide to let out a cry and Curtis surged forward.

He pushed his cock between your lips, pressing its velvety weight down on your tongue. He groaned in pleasure when your muffled sounds vibrated along his length and your tongue desperately wiggled beneath it. 

“You can take it, Swallow,” he looked down at you. “Breathe through your nose and suck on me. Hollow your cheeks. That’s it, you’re doing so good.”

You tried to follow instinct and Curtis instructions, even if your throat constricted and saliva pooled into your mouth when he pushed forward. He fucked your mouth in a steady, merciful rhythm, watching you the whole time as if it brought him more pleasure than your mouth enveloping his cock. 

But it became harder to focus on that when your body was tensing and shivering from the sensations stirred by Ari’s mouth. He switched from sucking to licking again, then back to sucking. One, thick finger inside of you pumping faster and faster. 

You’ve never- 

The thought didn’t manage to form fully before your brain switched off. 

Eyes rolled to the back of your head, your whole body cinched in pleasure so hard it was almost painful. 

Your moans reverberated along Curtis’ cock, and he pushed in deeper to feel your throat constrict. More wetness spilled out with each spasm of your pussy, coating Ari’s finger and beard as he kept slowly pumping into you. 

“Pull out of her for the next one,” Ari grunted, lifting his head from between your legs, “I want to hear her screams.” 

You didn’t register there was mention of another orgasm, you were too floaty. A state all too soon pierced by intensity as a second finger was added to the one already stretching you and the cock in your mouth forced to the back of your throat.

They sped up; your untried body unable to catch up with the ferociousness. Curtis held your head in place as he fucked your face, drool seeping past the corners of your mouth and trickling down your chin. Ari’s fingers crooked, pressing against a spot that burst the heart of the sun beneath your eyelids. 

Strings of saliva stuck in pearly strings between your chin and Curtis’ balls which hit your chin with each thrust. Then, suddenly, he was pushing deep and stilling with a loud grunt. Salty warmth filled your mouth, your throat barely able to swallow all of it. 

A god has cum down your throat. The thought was so surreal, the taste of him somehow sating and refreshing, that your body ignited into another climax. 

Curtis pulled out, dragging his cock along your sticky chin. Your shiny lips remained open, the tip of your tongue flicking out to chase him. It took a heartbeat for your vocal chords to reclaim their ability, and a string of cries growing in volume followed. 

Ari was mercilessly pressing on that spot, his tongue lashed your sensitive nub and you felt your walls tightening. Then his lips closed around your clit, sucking hard. You gave him the scream he wished to hear. Along with a flood of wetness staining his beard. 

“Just like I thought,” his raspy voice rumbled through the cloudy buzzing in your head, “delicious.” 

“I want a taste.” Curtis grumbled. 

Your body laid boneless, tingling and heavy in the most pleasant way. Not fully controlling your movements, your head rolled to the side and you blinked away the blurry lightness. Steve’s eyes were burning into you, so bright with vibrancy yet dark with primal intent. 

The sight of him got obscured when Ari straddled your chest. His massive thighs bracketed your shoulders, but he kept most of his weight off your ribcage. The girth of his cock right in front of your face made you gulp. Just as he tapped the crown against your wet chin, Curtis’ groan vibrated right against your drippy pussy. 

He was harsher than Ari, but not brutal. The way he mouthed on you made it feel as if he was thirsty for your flavor as the source of his pleasure, rather than turning into a sexual torment for you. Curtis didn’t shy from licking and nibbling all over, chasing every creamy drop - even if it slithered down to your asshole. 

Above you, Ari fisted his cock and tapped it against your lips. He put it between them for a moment then withdrew again. Until your own tongue started peeking out and eagerly chasing his cock. 

“Ask him for it.” Steve’s voice lowered to a growl. And it sounded much nearer than before. 

But you didn’t twist to seek his presence, your focus on the god of sun and the beautiful dick he was keeping away from you.

“Please,” you obeyed instantly. “Please, Ari, feed me your cock. Let me suck it.” 

“Fuck, you beg so prettily.” Ari groaned. “So prettily I don’t even care if it’s because you’re so hungry for my cock, or because you’re such an obedient, good girl for Steve.” 

“Nghh- both!” You whined, stretching your neck to bring your lips closer to Ari’s length.

He chuckled, his gorgeous face turning more radiant and glowy as a grin stretched his mouth. Finally, he eased the tip into your mouth. Eyes fluttering close as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked. His hips rocked forward, helping you swallow more of him where you couldn’t bob your head further. 

He let it slip out when another orgasm shook your body; your wet moans tickling his throbbing cock. Curtis’ tongue drove into your clenching hole, lapping and prolonging the aftershocks in the gentlest way he was capable of. 

Ari wrapped his fingers around his dick. He nudged the head against your bottom lip. You opened wider, tongue out and flat. He stroked himself faster. When he spilled, you tried swallowing without closing your mouth, so he saw it go down your throat. 

“So innocent, yet knows how to please a god,” Ari hummed softly. “You know why you’re so good for us and why your offering lured us?” He touched your cheek tenderly. “Because it’s not about performance but about eagerness and trust.”

When Ari stood up, your gaze fell to Curtis who was kneeling between your spread thighs. He wore the shine of your click on his beard like a warrior might the symbols of victory. 

“He speaks the truth.” Curtis squeezed your thighs. “Despite what your lands went through, you still came here with trust and thoughtful gifts.”

Your chest seemed to expand with exquisite lightness. For the first time since your parents death, you felt seen and appreciated for who you were. 

“Let us reward you, Swallow.” Steve stepped into your line of vision, towering over your splayed form. 

Curtis stood up and moved to the side as the god of earth filled the space between your legs. Holding your gaze, he undressed. It was both a signal for what was about to happen and a show just for you. A god disrobing for a mere human. 

Your pussy was already oversensitive and pulsing from the previous orgasms, yet it clenched in anticipation when Steve’s cock sprung free against his belly. 

When he knelt down between your thighs you wanted to close them out of instinct, but without a single word from Steve you kept yourself open. Heat scorched your face in shyness and embarrassment as his gaze slowly traveled the whole length of your soft body, down to your puffy, glistening folds. 

“So pretty,” he cooed, placing both palms on the junctures of your thighs and spreading your folds with his thumbs. “So wet and ready.”

Your hips bucked up, a tiny moan bubbling on your lips as he circled your clit. 

“So ready for the taking,” Steve chuckled at your body’s eager response. 

He gripped your hips tighter and yanked you toward him. Your legs went over his thighs, your butt resting right against him, and his cock slid between your pussy lips. 

“Do you want to watch, Swallow?” Steve’s voice held an undertone of teasing, but there was undeniable need in it, too. “Do you want to watch your virgin cunt take a cock for the very first time? Want to watch it disappear inside you?” 

Your pupils were blown so wide that black seemed to swallow all the color of your irises. Your breath quickened as you stared at the beautiful god and his dirty words sank into your consciousness. 

“Or-” he used a hand to guide the head of his cock right against your entrance- “do you want to just feel how your pussy stretches around a god’s dick?” 

You couldn’t decide. You couldn’t make a single coherent thought. Your gaze was trapped in those blue eyes, in the green and gold speckles in them. All awareness narrowed down to the burning pleasure that stung as he slowly filled you. 

It was a stretch. Gods, it was a stretch! 

Not hurtful beyond what you could take, but more than the two fingers Ari had inside you. You panted, clawing at the grass, as the arousal grew with every breaching inch. It was too much, yet you didn’t want it to stop. Didn’t want it to pause before you felt full right to your womb. 

Steve’s gaze remained on your face, but yours finally snapped away to stare at where his pelvis pressed between your splayed thighs. Where his big cock was disappearing between your puffy folds. 

“Oh!” Your brain suddenly connected all the sensations, immediately seizing from the overwhelming intensity of it. 

You dropped down, head thrown back as you let out a string of cries at the fulness. It wasn’t pain. You didn’t even think there was any virginal blood some said to appear during the first coupling. It was pleasure and pure insanity. 

“That’s it, Swallow. You’re taking me so well.” Steve praised. “You’re going to take all of it so well.” 

When it felt as if you would burst at the seams, he stilled. Bottomed out. He held you there, rubbing his thumbs up and down the creases where your abdomen met your thigh. When he withdrew a little, you mewled an objection. Only to welcome his surge forward with a lewd moan. 

“Fuck! It’s like she was made to take it.” You weren’t sure which god said that, but you wanted to nod along - yes, yes you were and you wanted more, now, please, more more.

You didn’t voice it out loud, yet it seemed Steve had heard you. Or maybe he read your mind, because a heartbeat later he snapped his hips forward. Wet readiness welcomed each thrust, accompanied by your moans and gasps. 

At some point it stopped being enough for both of you, the deep gentleness and a stretched-out display of conquest. Steve’s grip tightened. He yanked your body harder, fucking into you faster. Rougher. 

When your body arched in a shot of abrupt climax, your walls clenching around him in eager worship, Steve cursed aloud. Then he dropped forward, crushing your body to the ground with his weight. But it felt so good, hot and safe and dominating. He fucked you more savagely now, kissing you as hungrily and groaning his pleasure against your lips. 

You had your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, desperate to keep him inside of you as long as possible. Your sweaty palms mapped the wide span of Steve’s back, ecstatic at every ripple of muscle as he moved above you. 

The constant pleasure was addictive, sating in a way that you didn’t need another spike of climax to feel blissed out. 

But it came. A second after Steve drove into you with a rough thrust and stilled with a deep groan. His cum flooded your belly, bringing with it a new kind of heat. Your toes curled, your core throbbed, and you succumbed to waves of ecstasy. 

“Breathe, Swallow.” Steve’s eyes twinkled as he pushed up a while later. “Can’t have you falling unconscious when we’ve barely begun.” 

He chuckled at you when you just stared back, still panting and a little out of it. His fingers drummed down your body, until settling right atop your tingling clit. Then he pressed, starting slow, tight circles. 

Your pussy clenched in response. A trickle of white cum slipping out and down the curve of your ass. 

“Spring equinox lasts until night takes over. Besides, you take cock and cum so well, it would be rude to not give more of it to you.” He gripped one of your knees when your legs moved to close. “Ari and Curtis await their turn. It’s only fair. And I want you again already, too.” 

It’s not that you didn’t want it. You felt drunk on the new world of sensations they showed you. But it felt too much. You didn’t think you’d be able to take it. 

Soft coos, praises, and seductive coercion kept you compliant. 

With just a little whimper you let Ari rest your calves on his shoulders and push his thick cock into your sore cunt. He folded you almost in half, surging deep with each thrust. 

Curtis rolled you onto your front. Then helped you up onto your hands and knees. When he filled you from behind, your elbows nearly gave out and toppled you face first into the ground. But a hand gripping a fistful of your hair held you up. 

Your mouth was in the perfect position to fill it with cock, an opportunity Steve didn’t miss. 

From then it turned into a dizzying blur of wicked, filthy pleasure. Your body felt exhausted, yet responded to every touch, every kiss, every bite. Your muscles turned into cotton, but the gods didn’t need them functioning to manhandle you into any position they wanted. 

Their cum was dripping out of you. Your thighs were sticky with your own juices and their spend. When one was done filling you, another cock slid inside right after. Your mouth and hands were used in intervals. Sometimes a thumb was pressed into your tightest hole. A shower of praises and dirty words messed with your mind and enchanted your body, keeping your arousal at boiling point. 

They were still taking you when the dusk settled in. Your was voice raspy and choked from all the sounds they ripped from you, but you still made those tiny whimpers as Steve fucked you prone bone, with your cheek pressed to the grass. 

It was the feeling of his cock throbbing inside you, warm cum adding to the mess filling your belly, that your eyes closed and consciousness left you. 

When you stirred from deep sleep your body was sore and tired all over, but a sense of rest and comfort made it into a satisfying kind of exhaustion. You turned and stretched, suddenly freezing as an unusual sense of toasty warmth and softness registered. You blinked your eyes open. 

You were back in your small cottage. But the pillows you rested on weren’t filled with hay. No, they were fluffier, softer. As you groped the one right under your head, you felt the lightness of feathers filling the cotton pillowcase. On top of you, two new layers of pelts provided warmth. Buttery soft and trimmed with fur. 

A crackling sound from the side shifted your attention to the hearth. Where fire was dancing contained, spreading warmth through the house. 

Shock boosted your movements as you sat up right away, throwing away the covers and planting your bare feet on the wooden floor. The boards creaked as you stood up. Your muscles protested, still carrying exhaustion from what clearly wasn’t a fever dream.

It couldn’t be. Not when you still felt them.  

Slight throbbing in your sore core reminded you of the debauchery. A thought that you should look more of a sticky ruin came to you. But your body was clean. Not only void of any remnants of cum, but freshened up in a luxurious way. 

The gods had to clean you, you realized. It stirred warmth and joy in your chest. 

They could’ve just fucked you and leave you there on the hill, not care for what happened with you after they were done. Instead, they cared for you; washed you and brought you home. 

Moreover, they started the fire in the hearth. Well, considering one of them was a god of fire it probably wasn’t a hardship. 

You plopped down on the bed. As you did, your eyes fell onto a stool placed next to your bed. It didn’t stand here before, someone had to move it from the other side of the room. On it was a tin cup filled with fresh water, and a jar in which a bouquet of brightly colored wildflowers bloomed proudly. 

A smile curved your lips, your heart fluttering like a swallow swaying in the sky. It’s been so long since you felt happiness. The gods may have used you, but they gave you back the sense of joy and safety. 

In weeks after the equinox nature returned to the right course. Frost receded, allowing the soil to soften and accept seeds. Plants sprouted buds and flowers bloomed. Rain clouds disappeared from the sky. The sun caressed the earth and people turned their faces toward the sky to soak up the warmth they’ve been deprived of. 

You looked up at it, too. Always with a smile in the corners of your lips. 

That smile was present when you worked in your garden, digging your fingers into the soil and touching the plants. 

If it rained, you would slip outside to let the drops cascade over your face and hands, smiling at the sensation, as well. 

You never spoke of the equinox and your encounter with the three gods to anyone. Not even when people patted the sheets and thanked him for the sacrificial ceremony he performed, which in their eyes bought the gods’ mercy and brought back spring. 

No one knew that the fire in your hearth never died out. You brought logs just to appear you needed it, but the fire simply continued without using up wood. Warmth never ceased. The flowers in the vase remained alive and you doubted it was because you changed water frequently. 

Plants in your garden grew a little faster. When it rained, soil soaked it up, but didn’t form heavy mud in which you’d get stuck and dirty. 

You would never reveal your secret. Not only in fear of people’s reaction. You just wanted to keep it as your private treasure. Your own source of happiness to remember and smile about as you settled into bed in the evening.

But you would have to come up with something. Soon. 

Because your monthly blood has been gone for three cycles now.

Placing your hand on the slight curve of your belly became a habit as you cooked something over the hearth, or looked at the flowers. You tried controlling yourself when you were outside, to not draw the curious attention of a few gossipy hens in the settlement. 

You were stirring soup, thinking up some ridiculous story about a hunter you passed in the woods when looking for nuts, who made you swoon but then left you - that bastard! - when you sensed a particular change in the air.

Somehow, you knew one of the gods was here. 

You licked your lips before slowly turning around. By the open window that looked right onto your thriving garden stood Steve. Relaxed in his posture, he watched you with easy affection. 

“Hi.” You squeaked out.

Your face heated up with embarrassment, but you had no idea how you were supposed to greet a god. A god who took your virginity and participated in a carnal ruin of your body. Who also showed you care and protection. 

“Hello, Swallow.” Steve smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. 

He moved towards you, taking steady, unrushed steps. Nothing changed about him. He was still tall and impressively built. Solid comfort and lively energy pulsed from him, tempting you to simply lean against him and feel like you belonged. 

Steve traced your cheek with the back of his hand, which then slid down your side. When he splayed it over your belly your breath hitched in your chest.

“Hello, tiny chick.” His gaze flicked down for a moment, before returning to your face. 

“How do you know?” You asked.

Steve tilted his head to the side slightly, giving you a pointed look. Right. God of fertility.

“Is it a general godly power, or is it because you’re the god of fertility?” You weren’t certain yet if your nervousness increased because of his presence, or because you feared what he might make of your state. 

“It’s mine.” He replied, moving both of his hands to hold your waist and pull you a little closer to him. 

Heart paused in your chest then restarted with a wild flutter. Your own hands rested on Steve’s chest, and the god made no indication of displeasure at the contact. 

“You mean the power is yours, or-”

“Both.” He said with certainty, pulling you so close that your belly touched his. 

You were about to ask how he could be sure of that - after all, two other gods filled you aplenty that day - but you remembered who Steve was. Though it made you a little curious if he would have to not fuck you at all to give the other gods a chance to breed you.

“Are you going to take away my baby?” Your gaze dropped down as you asked him, fear clutching at your throat. 

While you were anxious how the community would take your pregnancy out of wedlock (out of any relationship), you didn’t even consider not having that baby. Maybe it wasn't the creation of love, but still came from a day full of intimacy and happiness. It wasn’t a regret. 

A frown marred Steve’s forehead, eyes narrowing as he looked at you in confusion. After a moment his face cleared into understanding. Your heart would call it affection, even. 

“No, pretty Swallow.” He smiled. “I’m taking you both home.” 

“What?” You stared up at him, not sure if you heard him right.  

“You’re growing a little god. Even the most supportive community won’t be able to care for you, or help you enough when he grows into his powers.” Steve explained calmly. 

“Besides-” corner of his mouth curved in a cheeky smirk- “I wouldn’t miss the opportunity of watching you grow with my child. Or filling you more.”

Somehow you knew Steve wouldn’t hurt or punish you in any way if you protested, though you weren’t certain he would honor your refusal. He was a god, he got what he wanted at all times. However, his words pulled on a string of longing that stretched from your ribcage ever since you lost your parents. 

Steve said he wanted to take you home. Not to his domain, but a place where you could belong and build a connection with someone who would care for you and for your child. 

The prospect of spending nights in the arms of the god wasn’t repulsive either. 

“Will I survive it?” You asked quietly. 

The question was loaded with layers of worries; from the basic wariness about human carrying a god in her womb, to potential heartbreak if Steve discarded you after a while. 

“No harm, no sadness, no cold will ever reach you again.” He vowed. “You will grow children and gardens. And mercy in gods’ cynical hearts.” 

Tears stung beneath your eyelids. You curled into his embrace, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your face into his chest. A single tear slid down your cheek as you felt Steve press a kiss to the crown of your head. 

A smell of moss and sun-warmed earth filled the air. Beneath you the floorboards creaked and dissolved. On your next blink your surroundings were completely different. No longer the walls of your cottage, no view at the small garden, no sounds of the chickens clucking. 

You were in your new home. With someone to build an infinity with. 

[asecretgardeninmymind]

I have been in DIRE need of more fics for Dylan/Link x reader (or with Annie) from Paradise on Hulu. So excited for season 3!

[asecretgardeninmymind]

Just a quick appreciation post for the fic writers out there. Thank you for what you do! You are amazing and none of you are appreciated enough!