A Gift Most Unexpected
♡ Neighbors! Stucky x Reader ♡
An accidental swap at the neighborhood gift exchange puts you in an awkward spot with your two hunky neighbors.
CW: smut, fluff, threesome, shenanigans, mutual pining, sex toys, oral sex (m and f receiving).
Words: 6k
Thanks to Kendra (formerly Specialk-18/Kenniteaa) for beta-reading this.
Stucky Masterlist || 5k Winter Sleepover
As you bend your legs, folding them underneath you, you shoot Monica a sympathetic smile. You sip from your cup of hot cocoa, swallowing one of the tiny marshmallows. In the background, a Christmas movie plays on the lowest volume, neither you nor your friend paying attention to the lead actress dramatically confessing her feelings on an ice skating rink.
Instead, it’s your friend’s current romantic woes that have your entire attention.
She lets out a caustic laugh and downs another swig from her wine glass.
"Leaving me for his secretary. Cliché, right?"
You reach out to her, squeezing her arm to comfort her.
"A little, but that’s his loss, Monica."
She purses her lips and slumps against the pillows.
"I know I’m rambling. It was two months ago."
"Everyone heals at their own pace," you reply softly.
There’s a silence during which she leans back and peers up at the ceiling with an annoyed frown on her face.
"The worst part is…I’m so fucking horny all the time."
You sputter, nearly choking on your drink. A smile then blooms on your features.
"Well, hm…that can be sorted if you really want to."
The cheeky wiggle of your brow is heavy with meaning. As a single woman, you’ve always made a point to take care of your needs on your own…all of your needs. And you had a pretty expansive collection of toys under your bed to assist in that endeavor.
Monica chuckles.
"You’re crazy. I wouldn’t." Her timbre dips to a whisper; your lips twitch in mirth. "I couldn’t."
You shrug.
"You know, modern women take care of their own business down there nowadays."
She pinches her bottom lip, her expression turning pensive.
"I’m just not sure…"
The doorbell rings, halting Monica’s sentence. She stares at the front door as you rise to answer. One look through the peephole summons a bright smile on your face before the door is fully opened.
Tall, familiar figures greet you, their cheerfulness mirroring your own.
You steal a peek behind their broad frames, your mouth parting at the sight of the truck loaded with wooden logs.
A snowy breeze whisks inside your home and you shiver.
"Hey, sweetheart," Steve chimes, stepping in further. He stomps his boots on the welcoming mat and snowflakes fall off his boots. You note how his blonde locks shimmer, catching the cool winter sunlight, a brightness matching his pearly smile.
You shut the door behind them, your teeth chattering a little.
A tiny frown graces Bucky’s face as he glances behind you. There are a few logs tucked beneath his thick arms.
"Oh, we didn’t know you had company. We can come back another time, doll."
Warmth trickles inside your chest. Bucky and Steve, your two next door neighbors, are the picture of two perfect gentlemen, never failing to treat you with the utmost respect and kindness.
"Nonsense, you’re always welcome."
"This is my friend Monica."
The two men wave at your friend, the latter uncharacteristically silent as she gawks at them from her spot on the sofa.
"We were up in our cabin cutting wood, and this punk…went overboard as usual. So we thought we’d stop by our lovely neighbor’s house to bring a couple."
Bucky enters the living room to place some kindling in the fireplace. His muscles ripple beneath the flannel shirt and his long hair is tied back in a bun, a few brown wisps grazing his light stubble.
"That’s so thoughtful. How much do I-"
Both of their faces harbor the same pinch when you attempt to broach the matter of payment.
"Don’t insult us, sweetheart. It’s our pleasure."
They always do so much for you. If only you could do more to prove how grateful you are. Thanks to them, you’ve saved literal thousands of dollars on having to hire a plumber or other services the house sorely needed at the time.
It was a bit of a fixer-upper when you moved in. So many little repair jobs that made your head spin. You quickly got overwhelmed.
When Steve and Bucky moved to the house next door, they only had to see you holding a hammer wrongly once while trying to fix the wobbly window to come over and offer to help.
They’ve done it so many times since, refusing to let you hold heavy tools and possibly hurt yourself.
Not once have they asked for anything in return. Bucky would always say your pretty smile was more than enough as a reward. And Steve would readily agree.
"Hm, the driveway could use some shoveling. I could stop by on Saturday and fix that for you, sweetheart," Steve states, inspecting your front lawn from the window.
"Steve, I couldn’t ask you…I should just get a handyman. I’ve been meaning to do that."
This makes them trade a glance, a crease forming on their respective brows.
"Why get a handyman when you have us? Our hands are available to you anytime, doll," Bucky assures, seizing your hand with his flesh one to quickly sweep his lips over your knuckles.
"Good to know," you laugh, heat tickling your cheeks for some reason.
It’s nice knowing you haven’t been an inconvenience.
Sometimes, you resent the fact you always seem to need help for one thing or another. You don’t want to be a damsel in distress but they tend to draw that out of you.
"Besides, you’re not asking, I’m offering," Steve adds, shoving his hands in the pocket of his jeans as he parts from the window. His cerulean gaze sparkles when he peers down at you. "And you can just bring over one of your delicious pies as thanks. Think you can manage that, sweetheart?"
"I can try," you acquiesce. "They’re not that good though."
Bucky elbows Steve.
"Please, this guy licks the crumb off his plate like a five year old every time."
"Buck, come on…"
The bashful glow of Steve’s face rouses a surge of endearment inside you.
"Well, it’s good to know my baking attempts are appreciated. I’m still learning."
"Then you must be a fast learner, doll."
Bucky’s praise draws another smile. Baking is still new for you, but when Steve mentioned his mother’s pies and how, as a nurse, she rarely had time to bake but he cherished the precious times when she did…his face lit up like a Christmas tree.
You knew then you had to try, if only to help Steve relive those fond childhood memories. There’s likely some things you can improve on, but there’s been no complaints so far.
Steve’s face illuminates, as if a thought just occurred to him. He reaches into the back of his jeans and waves a flier in front of you.
"Oh, I almost forgot. Are you going to this?"
You sigh. Those have been all over town, impossible to escape.
"The neighborhood gift exchange? Well, the whole neighborhood is going and I believe Pepper will strangle me if I don’t. She spent weeks organizing it." You surprised gaze lifts to Steve’s. "Are you?"
They’re not exactly recluse but they’re usually discreet, mostly keeping to themselves.
"Well, we weren’t sure at first since Bucky hates people," Steve says with a teasing grin.
"Hey, not true, punk. I like…" Bucky’s sentence trails off, his blue eyes landing on your face before he clears his throat, "some people."
"But if a familiar face is there…who knows," Steve offers, gaze clinging to you.
"Nice. Maybe I’ll see you guys there."
When the door slams shut behind the two men, Monica leaps from the sofa and pounces on you.
Her face is tight with utmost seriousness as she solemnly announces,
"Your hot neighbors are into you."
"Monica, please." Your voice drags in a long sigh. You grab the cup full of the now tepid drink and head to the kitchen area. You empty the cup in the sink and turn on the stove, firing up the pan. As you toss cocoa powder, sugar and water and begin to stir, Monica’s shrill tone fills your kitchen.
"I’m over here collecting cobwebs and dust down there since it’s been so long and you…" She shakes her head. "You have two sex gods living next to you offering to shove logs in your fireplace and mow your lawn, if you catch my drift…and you’re not gonna do anything about it?"
A soft giggle peals from your lips at her passionate rant.
"They’re just being neighborly," you counter.
Monica’s eyebrow arches.
"Just being neighborly, huh? When did they move in?"
You bring the spoon to your lips and frown, opting to add a bit more sugar and cinnamon. Then you lower the heat, your brow creasing in remembrance.
"Around three months ago, I think."
"And in that span of time, what else have they done to help?"
"Hm…" You stop stirring to think. "Steve fixed the leaky pipes. Bucky took care of the roof issue. There was also that time my heater blew and…" As Monica’s grin expands, you pump the brakes on her wild theory, sending her a disapproving glare. "Wait a minute. No. No. It’s not like that."
Her expression turns mischievous as she leans her elbows on the island.
"I’m sure there are other pipes Steve would have gladly helped you with, laid down for you even."
"You’re crazy," you say, rolling your eyes.
"Hm, I think you’re crazy for not seeing what’s right in front of you."
"Look…Number one, people can do nice things without expecting anything in return. Number two, I’m pretty sure it’s each other they’re into."
She shrugs.
"So?"
"So?" you scoff, disbelief raising your pitch. While they never explicitly said it, they are two men living together who are clearly very close.
You’re not stupid.
Their fond glances and lingering touches spell out the nature of their relationship better than any words could. You never asked because it’s their business. Besides, you’re happy for them.
"Sexuality is a spectrum," Monica argues. "It has to be with the way they were ogling you like lovesick teenagers."
Turning off the stove, you remove the pan and begin pouring the steamy concoction in your cup. You blow above the rim of the cup and steam gathers around you. The warm, sugary drink pleasantly fills your throat as you tilt the cup against your lips.
Your shoulders sag as the cup’s heat radiates through your palms. You bask in the comforting feeling, letting your mind wander. Did you ever harbor fantasies about your unfairly attractive neighbors? Maybe so. Would you ever act on those ephemeral urges? No way in hell.
The embarrassment if it backfired alone would kill you.
An annoyed groan escapes your mouth.
"I’m not setting myself up for humiliation. We share a fence, you know."
"Setting yourself up for great sex with two hot men?"
"I hate you."
Monica rounds the kitchen island to reach your side, wrapping her arms around your shoulders with a cheeky smile.
"No, you love me."
Her antics elicit another heavy sigh.
"As punishment I’m forcing you to come to this gift exchange thing with me," you say.
Grimacing, she parts from you.
"Ugh, not fair. I hate those things."
"Well, I’m not giving you a choice," you retaliate, sipping from your cup. "We’re both going."
"Besides…I already have a gift in mind for you."
Your lips curl upward as she squints at you suspiciously.
An idea sprang in your head earlier. Since Monica teased you, you will tease her back. Besides, who knows, this might actually be just the nudge she needs to get out of her funk.
"Did she rob a Christmas store or something?"
Monica’s snarky comment elicits a small smile from you. You gauge the current state of Pepper Potts-Stark’s palatial living room. It is…festive to put it mildly. There isn’t a patch of wall or corner of the room that isn’t filled with red and gold Christmas decorations. It’s like Santa’s little elves themselves went wild in the house.
"Well, Pepper never does anything halfway. She always goes all out," you say.
Monica’s distaste is plain on her features.
"Clearly."
There might also be some overcompensation there, but you don’t bring it up. Tony’s issues regarding his drinking habits are well-known.
If he’s not lost at the bottom of a glass, Tony Stark’s often in rehab.
You suppose Pepper’s doing her best to maintain appearances despite the circumstances.
"We should go put down our gifts," you suggest, already marching towards the monstrous tree by the fireplace. The star at its top grazes the ceiling. It is authentic, naturally, and already its bottom is brimming with colorful gifts.
You yourself ran out of paper during the gift wrapping process but there was no time to run back to the mall to buy more so you settled to meticulously label each gift with the recipient’s names on each silver bow. For extra safety measures, you place Monica’s gift at the very left and your neighbors’ at the right. You make a mental note to remind them which ones are theirs if they show up.
"You’re still not gonna tell me what it is?" Monica asks dejectedly, putting her own gift in front of yours.
"It wouldn’t be a surprise if I did. Just…promise me to open it at home, okay?"
Monica narrows her eyes at you, folding her arms as she stands.
"Why?"
You shrug, a mischievous grin canting your lips.
"It’s just...better. Trust me."
"Okay, weirdo," she replies. She then nudges your shoulders, tossing a look behind you. Tilting your head curiously, you pivot to find Pepper making her way to you with a bright smile. "Well, here comes the queen bee herself."
"Be nice," you admonish, even if you have to suppress an amused smirk.
"I am nice," Monica says. "Do you see how big I’m smiling? My cheeks actually hurt."
You're afforded no time to say hello as Pepper immediately wraps you in a tight hug testing your comfort level with each painfully awkward second.
"Oh, I’m so glad you came to my little event," she coos. "You poor thing."
Poor thing? Puzzlement arches your brow.
"I'm not following," you say, eyeing Pepper curiously.
She drops a long sigh while squeezing your shoulder. A veil of sympathy covers her features as she bends closer to you to whisper,
"Still single at your age. But it’s okay. I’m sure we can find you someone. You’re such a sweet girl."
You quell down an annoyed exhale.
Ah yes, the tragedy of being single. A cardinal sin for a woman of… any legal age, really. One you are undoubtedly guilty of.
"I’m okay, Pepper," you assure.
Her lips purse as her expression somehow manages to get even more condescending.
"Oh, you don’t have to pretend for my sake," she says, smothering you with another hug. "I’m just trying to help you."
Monica shakes her head, laughing.
"Help her do what?" she inquires.
Pepper makes a dismissive hand gesture but her tone dips secretively as she looks at Monica then you.
"Well, you know, put those nasty rumors to bed."
"What rumors?"
Your wonderment is genuine. You knew nothing about any rumors, though if you’re at the center of the gossip, you suppose it makes sense.
Pepper smooths the absent wrinkles on her impeccable dress, an awkward chuckle bursting from her mouth.
"It’s nothing really. Just those silly rumors about her and-" Her sentence trails off as her cornflower gaze wanders above both you and Monica’s heads. She visibly tenses then beams at you. "I should go check on the other guests."
She then scampers off before you can ask what that was all about. Before you can turn to Monica to gauge her impression, a large hand settles on your back as a familiar deep voice flows along your spine.
"Hey, doll."
You bounce on your feet as you turn to Bucky and Steve. Your heart skips a beat, your jaw hitting the floor. They clean up nice in their suits, so nice you nearly let your mind wander to that dangerous land of fantasy. You can’t help but notice Steve’s blond locks are still damp and tousled from the shower and Bucky’s beard is just the right amount of scruff for your liking.
Your eyes linger too long and your mind betrays you, conjuring a filthy picture of that very same beard traveling down your body, lower and lower…
You stamp out the improper thoughts by shaking their hands vigorously.
"Hey! You guys came after all," you chime, clearing your throat. A prayer that nothing on your face reveals what just flickered through your brain radiates in your skull.
Bucky smiles, mirth lighting his baby blues as your tiny hand wraps around his larger one firmly.
"It’s not really our scene but we thought, ‘what the hell?’” he says.
Steve nods in agreement.
"Where do we put the gifts?" he asks.
"The tree over there. I actually got one for you two as well."
Steve’s gaze sparkles fondly as he considers you. "That’s so thoughtful, sweetheart. You didn’t have to."
"I could say the same," you warmly reply. Sincerity vibrates in your tone as you add, "Besides, you guys have helped me so much. It’s just a small token of my appreciation."
You're pretty sure Bucky’s megawatt smile could power a whole building. His eyes flick over you and you try not to squirm under the scrutiny. For some reason, heat sparks in your core.
Dirty thoughts, begone, you scold yourself once again.
"Come on, doll. Helping you is a pleasure. You’re our favorite neighbor, after all."
A bold impulse suddenly runs through you. You fiddle with your hands as your eyes dip to the floor.
"Maybe…" Your heart’s in your throat as you take a wide breath before asking, "I was wondering if you guys would want to come over for a homemade dinner some time this w-"
"We’d love that."
You chuckle at Bucky’s lightning quick response. The pink tinge to his cheeks as you peer at him is simply endearing. You never expected your cooking to get them this excited. You suppose they really loved the pies and are eager to try more of your sweet treats.
Steve nudges his shoulder, shaking his head but it’s clear they’re both happy with your offer.
You decide on a time and day on the weekend and when Steve pulls out a little notebook to jot it down, you instantly rib him.
"Okay, Grandpa," you laugh.
Bucky tosses a loving glance at Steve, squeezing his shoulder.
"This punk’s pretty old school. I suppose, in a way, we both are."
You don’t miss the way they look at each other as if it was just them in the world and, while it shouldn’t, your heart sinks a little. But you maintain a cheerful expression. It’s a tale as old as time and you refuse to be a cliché by letting yourself even entertain this wild fantasy.
They then excuse themselves, thanking you again before explaining they have another engagement at their friend Sam’s house. As you bid them goodbye, you pointedly ignore Monica’s teasing glare and quirked eyebrow.
"Just fuck them already. That ass is begging to be squeezed," she says, openly leering at Steve’s rear while sipping from her flute of champagne.
"Monica," you admonish, your eyes going saucer-wide.
She smirks.
"So much for that spiel about modern women going after what they want…and need."
"It’s different."
"Hm, sure, whatever you say...doll."
You sigh while shaking your head.
"I’m tired. Let’s leave. Besides I’m pretty sure Pepper’s about to come over here and try to set me up with Johnny Storm," you whisper through your forced grin as Pepper waves at you from afar.
Monica puts down her drink as she nudges you towards the exit herself.
"Okay, we definitely need to go."
"Don’t forget to get your gift," you remind her.
A smirk creeps onto your face as she picks it up. You blink as you note the lack of label on her gift. It must have gotten knocked over when all the other presents piled up. But you were careful to tell your neighbors which were theirs, weren’t you? At least you think so.
Falling into the hypnotizing depths of Bucky Barnes’ eyes could make a girl forget her own name.
Your worries are easily put to rest though. You wouldn’t be that careless.
It must have slipped your mind.
You’re busy deep cleaning your house on Sunday morning when the distinct ringtone you set for Monica echoes in the kitchen.
You wipe the sweat off your forehead and set your broom aside.
A victorious grin’s already spreading across your face as you pluck your phone from across the counter. You’ve been eagerly waiting for her call. While this was a bit of a prank, you know if anyone needs to unwind and allow themselves painfully needed release…it’s Monica.
"So, what do you think of my gift?" you chirp.
Monica’s deep sigh rumbles on the other end of the line.
"It’s very thoughtful but you know I’m more of a waxing kind of girl."
Your brows draw together in sheer dismay.
"I don’t understand."
Monica scoffs, "your gift. The shaving kit."
Your heart violently bounces against your ribcage as you freeze.
"The shaving…" The words crumble in your throat as the pounding of your heart grows, an ear-shattering clamor in your ears that drowns out your friend’s befuddled babble. You interrupt her with a wobbling tone, "Monica, t-that’s not…that gift wasn’t meant for you."
"What do you m-"
"I’ll call you back!"
You hang up on her and slam your phone on the counter harshly. You then whirl around so fast that your head spins, the room going topsy-turvy before you.
At first, you don’t want to believe it.
But as your mind pieces together the information at its disposal, ice lurks inside your veins. A chill slithers through your back as realization crashes down on you…a cruelly embarrassing realization.
You begin pacing around your kitchen, on the cusp of a panic attack as you hyperventilate.
No, no, no.
This isn’t happening.
Except it is.
Things like that only happen in bad rom coms.
Except it isn’t a rom com. It's your life and it's about to turn into a horror film. Catching your breath requires long minutes as you lean your hands on the counter and keel forward.
Nausea burns the back of your throat.
If Monica got the gift meant for Bucky, then it likely means that Monica’s gift never got to Monica, which means the very specific item you purchased for your friend isn’t with your friend. Which can only mean it must be in the hands of…
You almost collapse on the spot.
As your head throbs, the nightmare playing in your head threatening to send you into premature cardiac arrest, you try to calm yourself and be rational.
Your nail snaps loudly as you chew on it.
Who knows if they even opened the gifts yet?
Maybe you won’t need to pack up in the middle of the night, move to another country and change your identity to escape the mortifying shame.
Maybe, just maybe…this mess is still salvageable.
The flimsy hope sets your feet aflame.
Before the plan has adopted a clear, full shape in your mind, you’ve grabbed your coat and boots and are rushing to your neighbors’ house.
"Hey, sweetheart."
The panicked drumming of your heart warps Steve’s baritone until it becomes a faint echo. It doesn’t help that he’s a sight in the tight white shirt that shows off his veiny biceps and chiseled chest. The slacks show you no mercy either, clinging to his thick, muscular thighs.
You shake your head to snap back to the present.
"H-Hi Steve," you stammer on the doorstep.
"Well, come in, sweetheart. It’s freezing outside."
Hesitating, your hands twitch as you send a tilted smile.
"I don’t know if I…This will be very quick. Last night-"
"I insist. You’re shivering," he says sternly, cutting off your sentence.
He pulls you inside before you can protest any further. Snow’s shaken off your boots as you stumble in. You waste no time once you’re amidst their cozy living room, your gaze soaking in every detail in search of two particular - hopefully unwrapped - gifts.
Your heart skips a beat as Bucky appears in your line of vision. He’s climbing down the stairs in just pants, his brown locks framing his face haphazardly and his broad chest on full display. Averting your eyes, you clear your throat. But the image of a half-naked Bucky Barnes is forever engraved in your mind. Maybe you can tuck it in a corner of your brain. It could keep you company when you’re forced to flee into exile to survive the embarrassment.
"Oh, Bucky, you’re here too. How amazing," you chime falsely.
You move about trying to give the place an inconspicuous inspection. It yields no results. No wrapping paper lying around. No incriminating device of any kind. Dread dances inside you.
"What’s wrong? You look a little flustered, doll," Bucky mumbles.
You gasp as you pivot abruptly. A lump takes residence in your throat with his sudden proximity. His thick dark lashes fall to half mast while his pink lips curve in a lopsided smirk.
The smooth stream of your thoughts halts all at once.
"I…I…"
"Why don’t you stay for breakfast?" Steve rasps, his honeyed timbre making your heart race as it pours over your neck.
"I think I’d rather…" Crowded by both of them, the words tangle on your tongue. "No I just… you guys are awfully close." A nervous chuckle bubbles up your throat as you fan yourself, stepping back to peek inside another room. "Why is it so hot here all of sudden?"
"Are you looking for something, sweetheart?"
You swallow as the scent of his masculine cologne wraps around you. You can almost taste it on your tongue.
"Hm, nothing, just enjoying the...interior design," you mumble under your breath.
"Or maybe you lost something. A little toy perhaps?"
The rush of warm air on your nape makes you jolt. You flinch, backing away as you gawk at them. Their smirking faces stare back at you.
The daunting awareness of why you’re here for - or what you’re here for exactly - glimmers in their teasing orbs.
Shit.
It all happened so fast. So fast your mind doesn’t have time to process, prepare.
All you know is that one minute, you were melting from the heat of embarrassment and the next…you were experiencing a different sort of heat, and melting against soft lips and firm hands that seemed everywhere on you at once.
And somehow, here you are, completely naked and exposed before them.
Your back arches on the rumpled sheets as warm tingles dance through your core.
"Please, Steve, I can’t take it…" you mumble.
Steve chuckles. Who knew beneath the swoon-worthy smiles and dreamy blue eyes Steve Rogers was actually a sadist? Appearances are truly deceptive. The neighborhood’s resident Boy Scout is nothing short of insatiable, having plucked orgasm after orgasm from you since they picked you up and tossed you on their gigantic bed.
"Come on, sweetheart, I know you can give me one more," he huskily urges.
Air falters in your lungs as Steve sweeps the vibrating toy over your damp folds once more, circling your swollen clit until another blissful wave rocks through your body. Your eyes flutter as stars twinkle before you. You’ve lost count of how many times Steve made you come with the toy meant for your friend by now.
"Enough, please," you articulate between feeble breaths.
Steve discards the toy as you bask in the haze of your orgasm, your chest still heaving and your clit still tingling.
He and Bucky share that secret glance you know well by now, and you now find yourself wondering how many of those silent conservations were about you.
Bucky laughs, removing his pants before creeping between your parted thighs. "Enough? We’re just getting started, doll." Your mouth waters as you note the thickness bulging beneath his boxers.
You don’t know what’s more erotic, Steve’s lustful stare as he watches Bucky between your legs, and begins reaching inside his pants to begin pumping his own cock…or Bucky’s starving expression as his eyes meets yours, then fall to your pussy.
He gives your folds one slow, sensual lick.
A sharp keen escapes your lips. Bucky’s soft mouth and playful tongue take you apart. You melt, your hips canting against his mouth. He flicks his tongue inside you and your fingers clutch the sheets. His metal hand keeps you spread while his flesh fingers hook under your thigh possessively.
You bite your lip as coolness swirls over your overstimulated bundle of nerves. Moans tear through your throat, each louder than the last.
Your body goes haywire, fiery sparks exploding across your heated flesh while Bucky feasts on your dripping cunt. As your arousal wets his beard, he growls against your core.
The vibrations send a shudder through your frame. He hums in appreciation, his tongue collecting your essence off his glistening lips.
The lewd flare in his pretty blue eyes makes your core pulse. "Hm, even sweeter than those delicious pies you always bake for us, sweetheart." He rises and you watch in awe as he pulls down his boxers. As Steve does the same, shedding the last of his clothes, you hold your breath.
Your hips wiggle as you wait, anticipation swirling through your veins.
Their stiff cocks spring free.
As you admire the veins running along Bucky’s shaft and the glistening, swollen tip of Steve, your thoughts are already overwhelmed with the idea of having them inside you.
You unleash an audible whine.
Bucky inches closer. He gives you a quick, lecherous once over before grabbing you and flipping you on the bed, effectively keeping you from seeing what they’ll do next. Ass up in the air, you tremble.
The wait is oddly thrilling but it doesn’t last long as you soon feel the first inch of hard flesh splitting you apart. Your core burns with the sudden intrusion. You whine into the pillow.
"God, you're tearing me apart," you whimper breathlessly. You welcome the stretch, however painful, the way the veins of his cock graze along your slick walls.
Bucky’s silky voice caresses your back.
"Hm, I know you can take me, beautiful," he purrs, his hands digging into your hips.
Your breath hitches as he sinks into you even more.
"There, doing so well for me," he lauds. The praise makes you clench around him and Bucky groans. His cock sits inside you fully, drawing a loud gasp. You bask in the comforting fullness, the feeling of being stretched to your limit. You tremble as another praise pours from his lips. "Such a good girl."
As Bucky begins moving inside you, pleasure mounts in your core, deliciously tangling with the pain. You barely get time to adjust before your chin is drawn upward by Steve’s firm hand. His pupils are inflated with desire as his thumb nudges against your bottom lip. His cock stirs when you suck on his thumb.
His mouth twists in a crooked smile.
"I always wondered how your pretty mouth would look around my cock," he admits, grabbing his length with his other hand. He pushes against your lips until they part.
You accept the weight of Steve’s meaty cock on your tongue, quelling your gag reflex by breathing through your nose.
Steve licks his lips, his heated gaze clinging to your mouth as you take him. "Hm, even better than I imagined."
You let out a stifled moan, tears pricking at your eyes. Between Bucky hitting your sweets spots and Steve grunting above you as he fucks your mouth, you have never felt so full.
Each of their rough, bruising thrusts propels delightful ripples through your core.
A glow blooms inside you, a wonderful warmth you’ve never felt before.
As time wears on, they pick up speed, growing more feral. Their restraint slowly erodes as they lose themselves inside you. Their animalistic moans mingle with the wet smacking of flesh against flesh.
You grow dizzier as their masculine scents drape over your senses.
"Bucky, I’m so close," Steve rasps, pumping his cock in and out of your mouth at a devilish pace. His salty taste coats your tongue, mixing with your tears.
Bucky’s voice is just as hoarse as his taut pelvis snaps into your ass again. "Me too, Stevie. She’s…so tight."
They both come inside you in quick succession, their throaty roars bouncing against the walls. Steve’s seed spills down your throat as his dick twitches, while Bucky fills you to the brim, the stickiness overflowing and leaking down your thighs.
You fall limply on the bed. But there’s no time to catch your breath as Steve’s already moving your weak body to his liking. He lifts your hips and rubs his half-hard length against your tender entrance.
Feeble cries spill from your tongue as he begins pounding your core. Each of his deep, harsh thrusts makes you see stars and has your toes curl against the sheets. His filthy timbre engulfs your sweaty neck.
"You’re not going anywhere until we both had our turns filling all your holes," Steve rumbles.
You awake in a mess of twined sheets. You groggily open your eyes, stretching and yawning as you climb out from underneath the warm blankets. As you examine the bed and your own nakedness, memories peek through the bleary fog.
Fire licks your cheeks as you remember everything that transpired, the evidence on the sheets and your own flesh allowing no space for doubt.
They went for hours. And you let them. Your gaze wanders to the purple sky already peppered with twinkling stars outside the window.
"Hey, sleepyhead."
Your head lifts as you clutch the blanket tightly against your frame.
Bucky revels in the sight of you in their bed as he leans against the doorjamb. He’s fully dressed now, making you acutely aware of your own nakedness.
He approaches you. His cheeks dimple as he smirks at your reaction, amusement lighting his slate orbs. After all, what parts of you hasn’t he seen today? It’s a little late for modesty.
"You guys should have…woken me up," you mumble hoarsely, struggling to speak with your bruised throat.
The blanket dips with Bucky’s weight when he sits before you. He hands you a warm cup of hot cocoa with tiny marshmallows in it. You smile at it then at him, taking a small sip from it.
"You needed rest, sweetheart," he says, cupping your cheek fondly.
"And you deserved it," Steve adds, sitting on the other side of the bed.
His blue gaze clouds over as he assesses the bruises and bites marks on your skin.
"Guess we were a little rough," he observes, his baritone souring.
"It’s okay. I…liked it," you say, avoiding his eyes.
"Did you now?" Steve says, wrapping his fingers around your chin to angle it upwards. Your cheeks warm as he gives a teasing grin.
"Guess we’ll have to put her on the naughty list, Stevie," Bucky quips.
You shift in the sheets, chewing on your lip. You drop the steamy cup on the night table nearby, your eyes lingering on the clock before finding theirs.
"It’s so late…I guess I should go back home."
Bucky frowns at your suggestion, his jaw clenching.
"No way. You’re staying with us," he says. He grabs your hand, his thumb running alongside your knuckles.
"Is that okay?" you ask bashfully.
Steve sighs, pulling your other hand. "Hm, have we not made it clear enough how we feel." Butterflies swarm your belly as he cups your face and plants a soft kiss on your lips. He hums as he trails tender pecks across your neck, all the way down to your shoulder. "Guess round two’s in order," he says.
Laughing, you stop Steve with a hand on his jaw. You feel him smile into the crook of your neck. The blond puts his hand over yours and kisses the inside of your palm.
"Please," you whisper, squirming under their captivated stares. "I know you guys can probably go on…a while, but I’m just a girl."
Steve chuckles and strokes your arm.
"Hm, no, what you are sweetheart is our best girl."
You blink at him in disbelief.
"This is the last thing I expected to happen on Christmas. Usually the end of year is…it’s pretty lonely actually."
"Well, you don’t have to be alone anymore," Bucky says.
A surge of warmth floods your insides. You then take your hands back from them to bury your head in them in frustration.
"Hm, I can’t believe this," you groan.
"What can’t you believe, sweetheart?" Steve asks.
You look between their concerned expressions. A deep, weary sigh then drops from your chest.
"I can’t believe Monica was right."
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