#avenger writes some great smut

[wandanatw0rld]

+18 | men&minor denied

beefy!natasha romanoff x pillowprincess!female reader x college!au

warnings: girlxgirl; Natasha being a boxer; biceps drives reader crazy, so biceps kink(?); semi-public sex; sex on Yelena's car; tattooed Natasha being a popular hot ass; reader being popular as well and Wanda her (platonic?) bestie; a little bit of agnst; smut; brief thigh riding (flashback); Natasha is head over heels about reader boobs and her skirts, supposed cheating, strap on use (r receaving); not proofread.

Just a heads up:

((a) ... - ... (a.))

It means that I'm going to post something about it soon

I guess that's it, have fun ;D

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Natasha Romanoff is an asshole and you hate her with all of your being. That's what you're going to say to everyone, but in reality, you really miss her. Wanda lost the count of how many times did you two broke up and she was there to catch the pieces of your heart; sometimes it was just a small piece, but this time it's a big one. Being popular helpt a bit to forget about the red hair, but not fully since you see her on your class break.

You really liked Natasha, but appearly she liked other women and flirted with them.

On fridays, normally you have a party to go, but not this one, you need to study for finals and join Wanda at her dorm to do this together. You put the backpack strap on your shoulder, but before coming out of the class room, you give a final look in the mirror to check how you look. Hair falling on your back, strawberry lip gloss, light make up on the eyes, perfect as always, but the outfit is probably the most important part of you. Pleated skirt, long sleeve shirt under Natasha's favorite rock band t-shirt, The Marvels, and a your black boots. You know the outfit will drive Natasha insane and you love it.

Leaving the classroom, everyone is looking at you, the most popular girl in the college, good grades, polite and gentle, who see you at first will imediatelly thinks you are a shallow whore, but you're not. However, something that people envy about you, every girl, especially the one you hate the most, is that you date, after you, another popular student in the Avengers University.

Natasha Romanoff has even better grades than you, she is mostly quiet and nice, great at sports, loves boxing. She works at the gym next to campus, so many girls go there just because of her, you hate it, but makes the red hair really happy that people trust and follow her instructions.

You used to love seeing Natasha training, punching hard the bag, her tattoed muscles shining while she was sweating. Her biceps always turned you on, especially when you were doing your homework sitting on the corner, legs crossed, writing things down. Some brief moments, when you look at her and wanted being fucked so bad. And she did. She always did. Natasha never says no to her favorite girl.

(a) ...

"You're so hot in this skirt, Detka" Her fingers stretching you out, you're so wet that they keep slipping out.

"Nat- please... Mhmm... Fuck!" She bites the soft skin on your neck, her sweating body against yours makes you moan really loud. Natasha keeps pushing her digits into your pussy, letting a growl coming through her lips when your nails scratch deep her forearm while the orgasm hits you hard.

"So perfect, malyshka".

... (a.)

You washed your thoughts while walk through the hallways, nodding almost gracefully for some students greeting you, so immersed in your on courtesy that doesn't hear someone calling your name.

"Hey, wait" It's Clint, Natasha's best friend. He's carrying some books. "I've been calling your name like forever. Have you seen, Nat?" So she didn't tell him that you two broke up, Natasha tells him everything.

"No, why?" You didn't lie, really not seen her since that night.

"You know, the finals are coming and has two days that she doesn't come to class. She needs to study" Natasha Romanoff skipping classes, something really critical must happened. Having you two broken up before, she always attended classes. "Can you take these books to her? She is probably at the gym".

No I can't, cause we broke up. You wanted to say that, but instead, you just say:

"Ok, I'll take them" Clint leaves with a short wave and you call Wanda.

"I'm waiting for you" She hums.

"I'm gonna get late, Wands. Clint gave me some books to deliver to Natasha" Wanda rolled her eyes while separating some ingredients on her cabinet. "He said that she's skipping classes".

"You really broke her heart this time, honey" She laughs. You always knew that they both never get along, but never known why - actually you do, although prefer to ignore. "You're gonna get late cause you're gonna get laid" Wanda mocks.

"No, I'm not. Bye, love ya".

"Love ya". Wanda, goofly, smiles.

The gym is closed apparenlly, but just for cleaning or something else that you didn't bother to read. You entered, there's loud rock music and you're sure that's Natasha, The Marvels playing really loud. You know that she do this when mad, the last time was about her father, she was so angry that her punches almost fall apart the punching bag plus you had the most insane orgasm when she fucked you from behind in Steve's office.

(b) ...

"Malyshka, you're so good to me" Her nails digging on your waist, her hips bumping against your butt, strap sliding real smooth because of your soaked cunt. "So beautiful accepting everything for me" You feel her front on your back, teeth biting hard the skin on your ribs.

Natasha's fingers starts rubbing your needy bud.

"Nat... I'm gonna... Fuck!" You bite your hand, the small room insanely hot. People, who starts their activities at the gym, their voices on the other side of the door add another layer of lust.

"It's okay, pretty girl. You can cum on my cock" The walls tighten Natasha's cock, she grip your jaw very softly, way more different than what her hips are doing, turning you to face her, kiss feather-like, her tongue tangled on yours. You feels the nod in your stomach undoing.

"Oh God... Fuck!" Your teeth marked on the back of your hands.

... (b.)

Slowly, you went to the room. You were right, Natasha was angry, fists punching so hard that it's seems the whole world was shaking. Sweating and shining biceps made you moan in your mind. She sees you, then stops the music.

"Hi". You greet, Natasha analyzes you up and down, don't get to see it but her pupils has grownth in lust when she sees you in that skirt, it always worked to turn her on. You take a few steps closer, her red hair tied with a braid, she's wearing a top tank blue shirt, breasts beautifully together, cotton shorts. "Why aren't you going to classes?".

"Cause I didn't want to" She answered, cold and sharp.

"Clint asked me to bring you these" You show her books, steps getting closer, very carefully. "What's going on? You just do this when you're mad".

"I'm fine, thanks" She took the books from your hands.

"Okay. Bye" You turn your back to leave.

"Wait" Natasha licked her lips, the sweat make some strands of her hair stick on her cheeks and temples. "Yelena is coming".

"But you love your sister".

"I do, but not this weekend" You sat on the edge of the ring.

"Why?" Natasha's breath finally gets in order.

"She bringing her girlfriend to a double date" .

"Double date with- Oh" You understand, Natasha follows your action, sitting, being this close, you can smell the sweat mixed to her woody perfume, it drives you crazy.

"And my parents are coming too and I didn't tell anyone that we broke up" You look at her, arms cross, her tattooed biceps all sweat and firm, God you love her arms.

(c)...

"Malyshka, it tickles" your teeth dragging on her arms, fingers squeeze them while your hips start moving on her thigh.

"I can't helped. I love your arms" You find the right spot and then starting to move on that.

"Do you, detka?" She kisses your neck, her fingers on your waist, helping with friction on your needy bud.

"Fuck" Your nails scratching her forearms.

"Do you want to sit on my arms and make a mess on them?" You nod, her husky voice made you moan next to her ear. "That's what you want, pretty girl?"

"Yeah" Your moves are frantic, everything you could do is to imagine. "Oh God, I want".

"Yeah, I'm your God. Am I?" You just nod, rubbing more and more your pussy against her thigh, clit desperate to attention.

... (c.)

"I was thinking... Maybe you can pretend we're still together?" Natasha is very close now.

"Nat, I don't think is good idea".

"Please, I'll do anything" Her green limpid eyes never failed to make you crumble, especially when she needed something.

(d) ...

"Pretty please, malyshka" You're under her body, hands sat on her shoulders. "Just a little bit, I promise".

"Nat, it will hurt" Natasha would never do anything to harm you, but she needs your boobs so badly now. Just a tiny little bit, it won't kill.

"I'll be quick" You know that's a lie, when it comes to play with your breasts, Natasha is never quick. "You can even stay lying. Please...".

"Okay, but be carefull, you know they're sore".

"I will, detka" Natasha pull up your shirt, it's actually hers, but you love to use. Your nipples pinch in pain, being on your period, both of you not having sex for almost a whole week made Natasha really desperate, seeking for any opportunity to get physical. Not being allowed to touch your breasts, her favorite part of you, drives her crazy.

You moan in a mix of pain and relief when her tongue circled your left nipple.

"Nat..." She's smiling on your breast, caressing, torturing you. Natasha suck it, her thumbs on your stomach going slow, really slow. "Nat, we can't." You stop her hands.

"Don't worry, detka. I know what I'm doing" Her digits passing through the waistband of your underwear.

... (d.)

"If you do this for me, I'll promise to never ask anything to you" You look at her, green eyes still looking deep in your soul. "Pretty please, malyshka" You can smell her scent more and more closely.

"Please, don't call me that" Oh, but I will. Natasha knows exactly what turns you on. When her accent come real thick while she's fucking you, or in the middle of a fight and happened to curse someone. When she calls you 'detka' and even better 'malyshka', you know what these two words means and it's so sexy and smooth that it never failed to make you forget why were mad at her.

"Call you what, detka?".

"I hate you!" You hold your breath.

"No, you don't" Her fingers touch your thighs. "God, I love you in these skirts. Remember how easy it was to put my hands under" And she does, you close your eyes. "Oh... you hate me so much that your panties are this soak... Tsk... So pathetic, malyshka".

"No, you're pathetic" You get up, anger warming your ears up, hating that Natasha have this much effect on you. "You're an asshole, Natasha".

"I'm an asshole?!" Natasha imitates you, getting up. "You're the one who broke up with me".

"I broke up with you because you cheat on me with Maria".

"My god, you're so stupid. I didn't do anything, for the thousandth time, I have zero interest in her" Natasha's nails dig into her palms, you see the red lines in there. "I want you, why is that so hard to believe?".

"Everybody saw you two at Tony's party, Natasha. Or her mouth wasn't glued to your ear, huh?" You never act so insecure before, always knew what you wanted, what to do, but when Natasha came and made you feel like the most important woman in the world, you started to fear losing everything you both had and the red hair realize that she prefers to be with somebody else.

"She was acting like an idiot and I pushed her. I would never do something to hurt you, you know that".

"I don't know anything anymore, Natasha" You turn your back to her, collecting the backpack.

"Please, be my date tomorrow. I want to impress my dad" Natasha is desperate and you feel terrible, almost at least. "Pretty please, malyshka".

"Okay, but will be the last time we'll be together".

"Fine". Natasha's clench her jaw, she takes what she get.

(e)...

Natasha was in your dorm at eight, the exact time she texted you last night, Wanda was there to support you, they greeted each other seriously and strictly. You went to pick up your things, leaving the two women together at the tiny living room.

"If I see her cry after this dinner, I'll kill you, Romanoff" The now blonde, Natasha, smiled at Wanda.

"Oh, and let her just for you?" Wanda lose her composure just a little. "Nah, I don't think so, witch".

"I'm ready" . Wow. Is everything that Natasha Romanoff can think, the black dress glued on your body, curvy waist well molded by it, but clearly her favorite part of you, your breasts squeezed together, the black high heels wetting up her core. Correction: everything that Natasha can think is how much she wants to devour you.

The stopped car in front of the building is not hers, it's probably Yelena's, but you didn't bother to ask about it. Natasha always liked motorcycles.

"You've changed your hair" Noticing that made Natasha really happy, the blonde hair it's cut on her jaw line, you used to like the red hair, it brings a very 'don't fuck with me' vibes, but now she looks more powerful, plus that suit really fits her. You look her up and down and almost lose the track of what happened between you two, if it wasn't for that, you'll probably grab Natasha to a kiss, her strong hands bring you to her lap, then they go to your butt, squeezing, dipping her nails on it.

"Did you listen to anything that I said?" You both are in front of the fancy restaurant, Red Room, you never went there before, it makes you worried a bit. "Don't worry, my parents will pay".

... (e.)

You're walking alone, if it weren't for you not paying attention to the road on the way with Natasha, you'd probably know where you were going. The dinner was a disaster, Natasha's family and Kate probably think you're crazy or have a mental ill, it's cold and you don't have any idea of what neibourhood is it.

You're feeling terrible, the look in Natasha's face when you look for a confirmation about her mom and dad already knowing about you two made you feel really sad, the whole purpose of having that dinner was to make you both get back together. Thinking and thinking about it, you're more lost than before.

"Hi, cute thing. Are you lost?" A man in a circle formed by five men, asked you. "We can help you?"

"All of us" The other man says, he has a cigarette between his lips, his nails are filthy.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you". You press your arms onto your body.

"Oh don't be like that" The first guy comes to you, his hands touching your skin. "You're so cold. We can warm you up, baby".

"I said no, thanks" You pushed him.

"What a courageous whore, aren't you?" His hands try to grab your face.

"There you are!" You never loved to see Natasha on this night so much than you do now. "I told you to wait that I'd give you a ride. Oh, good evening, gentlemen" Knowing the blonde really well, she's just being polite, but deep down, Natasha wants to kill every men in that street, especially the one who touched you.

"Why don't you join us?" The man ask. You run from his grasp and entered the car.

"No, thanks. We're late to meet our friends. Maybe another day. Good night".

You're freezing and Natasha notices, so she closes the windows and puts her jacket over your shoulders, you grab the fabric staring at your feet. The silent is stranger, but at the same time it is not.

Starting to think about everything that happened, if it wasn't for Natasha you'll probably dead or worse, raped in some alley. You wanted to say 'thank you', but you're too afraid and confuse to do it. The car has stopped at your dorm building.

"Are you okay?" You nod. "Look, about the dinner, I'm-" But what Natasha was going to say has become unknown, your lips on hers, hand on her face while the other one unfastens your seat belt. Tasting her lips after days makes you really happy, you feel the arms circling your waist, trying to bring you close. Your nails scratch the side of her neck, red marks glissining, Natasha push her tongue into your mouth, you releasing her from the seat belt before climbing on her lap. The feeling of having her tongue trapping yours made you moan, wanting more. You can feel the thightness on her pants, she's wearing a strap. God, she is. You push her, hair and lipstick all messy, she is a mount of huff and puffs. "You didn't let me finish".

"I love you too" Your hands captured her face, her beautiful and pierced green eyes are shining, but there's no tears. "I'm sorry for everything, Nat".

"I'm sorry too" She rests her forehead on yours. "I don't want to be apart from you, ever. It sucks had to look at you and not able to talk or touch" Her hands stroke your hair to the back, on your ears. "I want you to be mine".

"Then make me yours" Her eyes are all black, there is no hint of green on them, you pass to the backseat, Natasha does the same. You take off her blazer, hands all sloppy on the white shirt, pop up the buttons, then throw it anywhere. You kiss her jaw line, chin, bite the skin while she smiles at you, going down to her neck, sucking, marking her, your on way to make Natasha yours. Hands unbuckling her pants, strap bulge against your needy cunt. "Nat, kiss me" you don't have to say twice, she kisses you, it's more urgent, breathless, her hands pulling your dress to your waist, the top following it.

"Your breasts are amazing". She grabbed them, pulling together, thumbs circling your nipples, getting hard. Natasha's eyes are shining in adoration, she could watch you forever.

"Nat, just fuck me" You pull her close, tongue licking her upper lip really slow, the action made Natasha moan, desperately taking her pants off and throwing with the shirt. After unbuckling her bra, your fingertips touch every tattoo that the blond hair has in her shoulders, torso, her pierced nipple getting hard while you slightly pinch them.

"Alright, detka" Pulling your panties off your body, she slightly rubs your clit, feeling your wet pussy and then positioned the strap on your entrance, slowly pushing through your folders, her hands resting on your waist.

"Slow..." You softly pushed by her waist bone, it hurts a little, it's been a while since you used the strap, your legs trapping her waist, high heels landed on her ass, throwing your head back while her lips sucks your right nipple. "Nat... Oh f-fuck!" Your nails dig into the back of her head, grabbing the short blonde hair, while hers on your waist. It hurts like hell.

"God, I'd give anything to feeling you tight around me" You bring her to a kiss, her strap starting to hit your soft spot. "I love you. Fuck!" Her thrusts make the car shakes, you bite your lips. "Don't worry, detka. Let me hear your moans, please".

And you do, it's enough to improve her movements, her face in the crook of your neck.

"You're so perfect" Her teeth bite the skin there, she snifs your scent then licks your neck, marking, thumb rubbing your needy bud. "I'm making you mine. All mine. Just mine" Natasha starts to curse in russian, that turned you on even more, you need to learn it, anything to know what's she's saying. Holding her face in your hands, you kiss her again, slow and passionately. Her thumb moving on your clit, nails scratching her shoulders to her lower back, hips moving on her hand, Natasha look down on her cock, your cunt beautifully taking it, she growls on your ear. "You should see this, pretty girl. The way your pussy is taking me". It drives you to insanity.

"Nat... I'm gonna... Fuck" You bite her shoulder, coming down in a painfull and wet way, teeth dipping into her arm, nails in her forearm.

"Hold it, just a bit. I'm coming too" Her thrusts are sloppy, the strap coming off your folders, you need to help her, so your thumb touch her needy clit. "Shit!" It's everything that she can think now.

You came together, her mouth against yours, sharing a messy kiss. Her hips stopping gradually, forehead on your shoulder.

"You were perfect, malyshka" You're breathless, sweating, your hair is a mess.

"Nat, I need to help you. You didn't cum" Natasha sweet smile at you, thankful.

"You don't have to, detka" She kisses your cheek. "I'm alright, don't worry".

"Nat... I'm hungry" You didn't eat anything at the dinner and you're always hungry after sex, Natasha remember all the time to leave some snacks for both of you on her headboard.

"I know, detka. Let me just get myself together".

You both put back your clothes, sharing affectionate smiles, but you wear her jacket now, Natasha smile at you, really happy when your eyes meet the cheeseburger and milkshake in front of you.

"So good".

"I bet it is, malyshka". Her hands stroke your hair behind your ears.

"Your family hates me" You realize while drink a sip of strawberry milkshake.

"No, they don't. Was my father idea to arrange that dinner and try to makes us be together again" Natasha shyly smiles. "My mom say that the only good ideas he had in his entire life was to marry her and coming to America" She laughs.

"Yelena and Kate? My God, they think I'm crazy". Eyes wide open while you wipe your mouth.

"No they don't, but Kate will definitely win twenty bucks".

"Why?" You ask finishing your burger, Natasha seems ashamed to answer, but she does.

"They bet we'll have sex in Yelena's car" You're shocked, your mouth is a perfect 'o', cheeks all red and hot.

"Make her lose".

"Why?" you slap Natasha's arm.

"Because it's your sister's car, Natasha" Hidding your face between your hands, you whine. "It's so embarrasing".

"Come on, detka... We had sex planty of times in Steve's office and Professor Carter class room".

"Oh God!".

"Exactly, you said that everytime".

"Stop!".

"I'm sorry" She laughs again. God, she missed being like this with you.

"I'm breaking up with you again" you said embarrased.

"No, please. I'll stop". She kisses your cheek. "No more jokes".

"Thanks". You snuggle on her body, yawning.

"Okay, let's take you home" Natasha grabs a few dollar bills in her wallet and put it on the table.

"Can I sleep with you?" You ask, shyly.

"Of course you can, malyshka".

You both go to Natasha's place, her parents gave to her as gift for entering the college, living all alone, she invites you to live there many times, but always dismissed her. It's warm and quiet, she take off her shoes and you do the same, following her like a little duck and she thinks is adorable.

"Do you wanna take a bath?" You denied, her hands on your hips, while yours play with her blonde hair.

"I just want to get some sleep" You hug her, inhale her scent. "I liked your hair".

"It was Yelena's idea, she said that I had to change to have you back" Lips pressed on her collarbone, her skin so soft and warm. "But I liked my red hair though" You squeezed her, hands passing through her blazer. "I'm happy with your approval". They find a place on her small back, your lips still marking her skin. "Malyshka, it's hard to thinking with you doing this".

"It is?" You said it with a playful smile.

"Yeah". Pushing her, you laced your hands together, Natasha look at it with sweet smile.

"I'll stop then".

"Okay, let's change". Natasha bedroom is almost all white, except to the master wall, the one that the headboard of her bed is. It's a very soft pink, you wondered why she picks that color.

"Nat, why this wall is different from the others?" There's no better time to do it then now, at least you think. She look at you in a very softly and calm way, like when a child ask something really cute.

"Because remind me of you" It's simple, but made your cheeks get all red and warm. "When we were so busy during test weeks, tons of homework and I am really stressed cause we can't see each other properly, I remember of you, of your lip gloss" She is the one with red cheeks now. "It's stupid, but helps me relax".

"It's not stupid" You hold her face, pecking her cheek. "It's cute and I like it". She smiles at you, thankful, and then pull you until her closet.

"You left some clothes in here". You know that, but you're going to grab hers, anyways. "I'm gonna take a glass of water. I'll be right back, malyshka".

"Okay" Natasha leaves the room and it's enough for you to sneek around while putting her clothes. You choose another The Marvels t-shirt, taking off your dress in front of the mirror, there's marks everywhere, on your breasts, neck, Natasha's scretchs all over your waist, thank god is sunday, otherwise you'll have to wear make up.

After brushing your teeth, you snuggled into her bed, the pillows smells exactly like her.

"Sorry for taking so long, I had to comeback to Yelena's car. I forgot this" Your cheeks are red, crimson even, when you see the strap on her hand. "Are you sleepy?" You nod, she's bringing one glass, put it on the table next to bed. "I'm gonna change and then we'll sleep, okay malyshka?".

"Okay, babe". You said, smiling under the blankets.

"Babe? I can get used to that". She caress your nose with hers.

It took a few minutes until Natasha take off her clothes and brush her teeth, top tank shirt and undies. She comes next to you.

"My clothes, huh?".

"Smells like you" You said timid.

"And now, like you" she kisses your neck, hands on your waist, going down, a little bit more on your thighs, nothing sexual, she just loves to touch you. "I love you, malyshka".

"I love you too, babe" Natasha smiles, you strokes her blonde hair on her ears.

"Can you say it again?" .

"Say what? Babe?" .

"Yeah, but say that you love me".

"I love you... Babe" Smiling, she pulls you close, your face on the crook of her neck.

"Good night, malyshka".

"Good night, babe" Natasha chuckles, squeezing you on her arms.

Natasha Romanoff is a soft dork and you love her with all of your being, that's what you're gonna say to everyone from now on. And you'll never want to miss her again.

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[malertop]

Steve Rogers x TonyStarkSon!Male Reader

THE WHINY ACCIDENT

Gif is not mine!

Genre: Smut

Warnings?: bad bad bad writing,since english aint my first language and this is like my fourth or fifth fanfiction the writing may or just isn't the best..or great!,please forgive me if it's just BAD.

1 PM: MONDAY

"Are you sure you're ready for this Y/N?" Tony Stark asked.Tony Stark was and is known as the one and only Iron Man but also as a highly intelligent playboy who is also a billionaire man."Yes dad,can you calm down now and just trust me!" Y/N said.Y/N Stark is the son of Tony Stark and the big brother of their second child named Morgan Stark.Y/N Stark is a smart guy just like his father,but one thing that made him special is that he was gifted with powerful magic,and because he was ready to do anything to save people.Y/N magic was something powerful,so of course he had to join the Avengers but what happened is that he got a super big crush on the leader of the Avengers who is also known as the one and only Captain America a.k.a Steve Rogers."Oh c'mon,this is dangerous and you're just a kid,MY KID.I am sorry that I am worried for my son's safety!" Tony said dramatically again,scared and worried for his son's first actual dangerous mission "Dad oh my god don't worry I am going to be just fine!" Y/N insisted,he tried telling his dad for the 50x time probably already that he is going to be okay "Okay no,I am done!" Tony said as he put his hands in the air "What do you mean now?" Y/N said as he rolled his eyes as he sighted "I am sending Steve with you so he can watch you." Tony said with a serious voice and face "...I AM NOT A KID!" Y/N said as he yelled "ohmygodohmygodohmygod!" Y/N yelled in his mind "GOD PLEASE TELL ME HE IS JOKING!PLEASE PLEASE DAD TELL ME YOUR JOKING,I CAN'T BE WITH HIM ALONE" "Oh you are a kid kiddo,you're my kid and i don't want anything bad to happen to you." Tony said as he pointed at me as I just gave up.As I looked up I saw him starting to walk towards the door "Where are you going?" Y/N asked him as Tony turned to face the kid "Where else do you think?,You know what just stay here and wait." Tony said as he opened the door and then left.After 20 minutes Tony came back but with someone Y/N didn't exactly expected to see right at the moment "Okay Steve are you sure your fine with going with him?" Tony said before entering the door,with Steve next to him "I got no problem with that,and we can get along kind of more" Steve said with a smile "Are you saying you want to be friends with my son?" Tony asked as he pointed at Steve "what wait n-" as Steve started to panic Tony interrupted him "just kidding,I don't care" Tony said as he opened the door and let himself and Captain America enter where they saw Y/N already sleeping on his chair since as a hero he didn't had much time to sleep.

—————————⍟————————

7 PM: MONDAY

"Okay I am going to take a shower..." Steve said quietly as he put you in a bed "this kid is really heavy,I am really swea-" but as Steve was staying he noticed something that caught his eyes immediately,his eyes winded as he saw Y/N's bulge through his pants,he started to slowly move his hands towards Y/N's bulge as you were sleeping,just wanting to feel it but stopped himself and instantly backed away "okay Steve...just go to the shower." he said quietly as blush appeared on his face,he instantly rushed towards the bathroom leaving Y/N's unconscious body on the bed.

7:15 PM: MONDAY

"ugh" Y/N mumbled as he started to open his eyes.Seeing the light hurted his eyes for a bit but then his eyes got used to the lights,he got up and started looking at the room wondering where he is "where am I?..." Y/N said confused as he started walking but then bumped into a person "Oh your awake kid?" Steve said as he stood In front of Y/N,his perfect body still being wet and dripping some water,his big pecs which are better than any tits,his abs,his muscular arms,and the towel that was the problem right now because it was the only thing he was wearing."Oh-I-" "oh my god oh my god,please please stop i am going to get hard" Y/N stood there with blush on his face,frozen and not being able to say anything while standing in front of the muscular adult "M/N?...are you okay?" Steve asked as he put his hand on Y/N's shoulder,Y/N turned his head looking down and seeing he is starting to get turned on,Steve noticed Y/N looking down and he decided to see what he was looking at,he slowly turned his head down just to see Y/N's cock jumping and twitching through his pants,he instantly turned his head up and saw Y/N looking at him "...Did I make this?" Steve asked as he touched the bulge which made Y/N flinch for a second.

Steve looked at the shorter young boy who was blushing and all shy,Y/N couldn't move or do anything,and Steve couldn't risk what he desired,to get dumb fucked by the boy.Steve started to stroke the cock through the boy pants as he kept looking at him "tell me Y/N..do you want to have some fun,since some people think i am boring..but i can make real fun~" Steve said with a seductive voice as he kneeled down to the floor,seeing the boy face clearly made him even more turned on by the situation that he and the boy was in right now."W-What kind of fun?.." Y/N said stuttering while watching the older men that was on the floor stroking his dick through the pants,"oh you will see~" Steve said and instantly took down the pants revealing Y/N's big cock,the guy didn't even wait a second and took the dick inside his mouth,making himself already gag on it.Y/N moaned from the unexpected move Steve made as Steve started to give the shorter guy a blowjob.A gag after another fag followed from the older guy and moan and moan from the younger guy,Y/N couldn't help it but grab Steve's hair and push himself deep inside of his throat making the older men choke,Steve rolled his eyes as saliva was all around Y/N's cock.Y/N throw Steve to the ground as Steve began breathing for air,Y/N grabbed him by the hair and threw him on the bed as the towel fell."So Captain was a little bitch huh..then let me handle you like one~" Y/N said as he grabbed Steve's legs and pulled them towards him,splitting them apart wide open and looking at the breathing shaved white soft hole "W-Wait M/N it may not fit without prep-" "Don't worry Steve..your saliva made my cock wet enough to be used as a lube~" as Y/N said that he spit in his hand and brought it towards Steve's hole,he felt the soft skin of the older male turning him on even more as he couldn't wait anymore.

*slap* a slap was heard,Y/N slapped his hole teasing the older men with his dick as he watched the expression "Please M/N..just put inside of me already!~" Steve begged as he couldn't wait anymore,Steve was needy and that was well known for anyone now."What if it doesn't fit,Captain?" Y/N teased "then either we or I will make it fit" Steve teased back as he made Y/N blush,after hearing those words Y/N instantly put his whole cock inside of Steve's hole which made his eyes go wide open as he moaned by the unexpected move.Steve became a mess as Y/N thrusted more and more "Oh yeeeessss!" Steve said as he moaned "Destroy my hole M/!N,~~" Steve moaned as his hole was getting destroyed "Fuckkking god!~~~" Steve cursed out of enjoyment "What happened Captain,i thought we should watch our language and not curse?" Y/N teased as he continued to thrust every second,his balls hitting Steve's ass,his cock being buried inside of his whore hole "T-The language doesn't matter n-now~~" Steve said with cracks in his voice,Y/N started thrusting faster as Steve act like himself anymore "you like that Captain,making you my little bitch?" Y/N teased with a smirk as the slaps could be heard from miles away "yeeeeeesss~~" Steve said as his eyes rolled back which suprised Y/N making him stop for a second "wait why...why did you stop?" Steve asked as his eyes we're making eye contact with Y/N "i-" "Please M/N don't stop,look what you did to me already~" Steve cut Y/N off,as he finishes his sentence Y/N looked down at his hole and for a second pulled out revealing the wrecked hole of the older man "see..so-so don't stop!~" Steve said with smile and the next second his eyes rolled "Fuck yeah that pussy!" Y/N said as he shove his whole cock inside of Steve's hole and began thrusting again but faster than ever,slaps could be heard miles away as they were made every 1 second "FUCK M/N DESTROY MY LITTLE PUSSY~!!" Steve loudly moaned as he put his hands on Y/N's back "DESTROY MY PUSSY M/N,OWN IT,MAKE ME NOTHING BUT A MESS!" Steve continued as Y/N started to feel himself getting close "PLEASE M/N JUST MAKE ME YOUR BITCH AND OWN ME ALREADY,JUST DESTROY MY LITTLE CUNT AND O-OH-OHH FUCKK~!" Steve finished his sentence with eye rolling again as Y/N hit his spot "RIGHT THERE!,RIGHT THERE M/N! GAPE MY PROSTATE AND MAKE ME YOUR TOY~!" Steve moaned "fuck S-Steve..I..I am feeling really close~" "CUM INSIDE ME M/N!,PLEASE FILL THE INSIDES OF MY PUSSY~!" as Steve finished his begging that made Y/N completely out of control "fuck you pussy is sucking my dick S-So bad!~" Y/N said as he did his final thrust,cum started filling up Steve's soft wrecked hole.

1 PM: WEDNESDAY

"I am so proud of you son" Tony said as he hugged Y/N who of course hugged back,after like 1 minute Tony finally pulled back and looked at Y/N "you grow up so fast,just like how fast you were able to defeat them" Tony smiled "Dad c'mon!,I ain't a baby" "well in my heart you will always be a baby" Tony said as Y/N chuckled "Now you can go,I have to take a call" Tony said as he started walking towards his desk,while Y/N out of the door,he came to his room and as Y/N opened the door and entered,closing it and as he turned around he was stunned "Hello Y/N" Steve said as he came closer to younger guy,Steve was wearing nothing but a towel,he dropped the towel as he revealed himself wearing Captain America jockstrap "you dealt so good with the villains that I think you deserve an award" Steve said with a smirk on his as Y/N looked at him.

[crazyinlovewithbucky]

"My Girl"

Pairing: (tfatws)Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Sam took Bucky clubbing one day to ease Bucky's tension and bad temper then Bucky met you and since the moment he laid his eyes on you, he knew that he wanted you to be his girl.

Warnings: flufffffffff, smut, Sam & Bucky being sarcastic, alcohol, alcohol consumption, making out, nudity, dry humping, oral (f receiving), protected/unprotected sex, d in v sex, drunk friend, sergeant kink, Bucky being obsessive, lipstick stains and marks, cum eating, overstimulation, lots of fluff + smut.

This smut was somewhat inspired by the song Girl by The Internet (feat. KAYTRANADA)

AU/N: hey guys, I've been having the worst writer's block and I've been writing this piece for almost 3 months now. My job is taking all of my time and consuming my days that I barely have time to write so this is the reason why this piece might be a little longer (5.9K words) than my previous ones lol. Hope you enjoy it and I'd like to remind you that English isn't my first language so excuse if I misspelled or mispronounced anything.

======================

It was a somewhat normal Friday evening. Sam and Bucky just finished another successful mission in Europe, and they needed time to relax. Sam knew about that great club in New York and begged Bucky to come and blow off some steam. Eventually, Bucky agreed to drink, spend time with his best friend, and maybe see how people nowadays party. They entered the club and headed to the bar right away before the club owner himself came and greeted them and told them he had a private VIP table for them on the east side of the club. The two Avengers thanked him but wanted to have a few drinks at the bar first.

"Gosh, Steve would've hated this," Bucky shouted due to the loud music, feeling a little uncomfortable as he's not used to loud music, not used to people drinking and dancing around wildly like this, and also not used to crowded places like this. Sam laughed at his comment and gave him a glass of whiskey.

"Believe it or not, buddy. I brought Steve and Nat here a couple of times, and they didn't actually hate it. They were uncomfortable at first, yes. But after a few drinks, I kid you not, Steve almost went home with three blondies who promised to show him "how grateful they are for him saving the world" until Nat and I had to actually grab him by his shirt and drag him out of there." Sam chuckled while telling the story, and Bucky almost spat his drink out of his nose, laughing.

"Yeah Yeah. That does sound like Steve." Bucky kept chuckling as he swallowed the rest of his drink. He put the empty glass on the bar and asked the bartender for a refill. His eyes roamed the place, looking at the people on the dance floor, then his eyes landed on you.

You were dancing your heart out and wearing that new short, tight black dress that had no sleeves, feeling kind of tipsy from the three or four drinks you had. Your hair is all messed up from the heat of dancing, which made some of your baby hair stick to your forehead due to sweat. Bucky couldn't keep his eyes off of you; he didn't know why, but for him, you were so attractive, with that tight short dress hugging all of your curves perfectly, your hips and body swaying to the music, and your shiny, beautiful hair swaying and moving with your body too.

He kept staring at you, lost in your beauty until he felt a rough hand hitting his shoulder. "See something you like, Barnes?" Sam raised an eyebrow at him, following Bucky's intense gaze at you. "Go dance with her," Sam chuckled, pointing at you with his glass.

"No fucking way, Sam. I don't dance." Bucky took a deep breath and swallowed the refilled glass in just one sip. He put the glass again on the bar table and motioned for the bartender to refill it again. Somehow all that built-up and buried sexual energy in him started to resurface as he got reminded that the last time he had any sexual interaction with a woman was in the 1940s. He really needed to take it out of his system and ease that sexual tension inside of him. He knew that he had to do that one day or another. Hell, Sam even knew and noticed that too, as Bucky's anger issues and frustrations were getting out of hand and Sam had enough of this attitude. He thought that maybe with a few drinks and a nice night out, Bucky might be less tense. But when a pretty lady gets Bucky's attention and he starts to act all frustrated again, it all clicks for Sam now, as the reason behind Bucky's frustration is just built-up sexual energy. Poor Bucky hasn't gotten laid since the 40s; he must feel like a virgin now, Sam thought.

Bucky kept staring at you and the way your body moved to the music until he saw you moving toward him with one of your friends. You were headed towards the bar while laughing with your friend, and you moved and stood very close to him and shouted the names of some drinks for the bartender. He could smell you. You were sweaty as hell, but for him, you smelt so nice and sugary; your body and hair smelt like a mix of coconut and jasmine, and he loved it so much that his body stiffened and he stood straight, trying his hardest not to look at you and the way you kept scratching your scalp and flipping your hair from the heat you felt from dancing. You took out a scrunchie from your purse and tied your hair up in a messy ponytail, and he almost fell on his knees as he saw drops of sweat running down your neck. You were so hot and beautiful, he thought he'd lose his mind.

Sam was standing on the opposite side of Bucky and you, watching Bucky's reactions with a smirk. "Hey ladies, can we buy you some drinks?" Sam said this to you and your friend, startling you both out of your conversation. Your friend looked at him and Bucky and gasped loudly.

"Oh my god! You're the Avengers!" Your friend screamed, which made you get confused, and you looked carefully at Sam, then turned your head and found very hungry blue eyes looking back at you. Your mouth opened a little at the sight before you. You thought that this was literally the most beautiful and handsome man you'd ever seen in your whole life. You both kept holding that intense eye contact; you didn't realize you were so close to each other until your friend pushed your shoulder to grab your attention, and you almost fell on him. Bucky was quick, and he held you by your waist and helped you stand up straight, never breaking eye contact.

"Are you okay?" He said that as your heart kept beating so hard and loud, you were very nervous, as you had never had that much tension with anyone before—even your friend and Sam sensed it. You nodded your head at Bucky while smiling nervously, then tried to breathe normally as you felt like you were choking out of air. You also felt that strange sensation of tingling between your legs. You couldn't help it; as per lots of previous experiences, you were well aware that alcohol makes you horny. But alcohol plus the hottest man you've ever seen—that was too much for you, and you felt out of breath.

"Y-You don't need to buy us any drinks, we were actually getting those last drinks and leaving afterward," you said nervously to Sam as you held your friend's arm. You smiled with a nod at the bartender when she put the two drinks you ordered in front of you and your friend.

"What? Noooooo, Y/N, I wanna stay," your drunk friend whined. "You can do whatever you want to me, Mr. Falcon." Your friend flirted with Sam and touched his hand and squeezed it while winking at him, which made Sam blush and smirk at her.

"Oh, I think you had enough drinks already." You cringed at your friend, squeezed her shoulders, and pulled her away slowly to leave.

"At least, let us drive you home." Bucky's voice behind you said that, and your breath hitched. You were trying your hardest not to interact with this man because, you swear, you were so close to jumping on him and doing very unholy things to him.

"Y-You don't have to." Your voice was shaky, and you tried to keep your friend steady.

"But we want to. Please." He touched your arm softly, and you got goosebumps all over, feeling hotter, and that tingling feeling between your legs was more unbearable.

"Okay," that's all that you managed to say, as there's nothing on your mind now except for the various positions and ways he could fuck you with. Yes, you were that horny.

Sam got his wallet out and paid for his, Bucky's, and your drinks. You kept holding your friend, afraid she might trip and fall. Meanwhile, Bucky was walking beside you, guiding you to the main exit and shielding you from the crowd. He was very gentle and kind to you, and you just couldn't stop looking at his strong, veiny hands and imagining them wrapped around your neck.

By the time you got outside the club, Bucky had guided you and your almost knocked-out friend to the parking lot, where Sam was already waiting there next to the black SUV. Normally, you wouldn't ever consider going out or taking a ride with strange men you just met at the bar. This is a never-in-a-million-years action from you. But your cautious side left the room when you acknowledged that these are the actual Avengers and they couldn't ever hurt you. And if they did, you're going to make a hundred percent sure to sue their asses afterward. You smiled at yourself at that thought, and that caught Bucky's attention.

"What are you smiling at?" Bucky said to you as he smiled too. Your smile dropped immediately as he caught you off guard, and you felt so embarrassed. Of course, you're not going to tell him you were just thinking about suing him if he did something to you, and that made you smile. What the hell are you? A psycho?

"Ummm, nothing." You smiled awkwardly. "I am just a little drunk." And you awkwardly laughed. 'Gosh, can this get any weirder?' You thought to yourself. 

"Are you okay?" He said this in a concerned tone while opening the doors of the backseat in the car and guiding you and your friend in. You nodded at him with a smile, sat your friend carefully in the backseat, and seated yourself next to her. Bucky got in the passenger seat while Sam started driving and pulling out of the parking spot.

"So, do you ladies have a place, or are we going to drive all night?" Sam said this in a sarcastic tone while opening the Google Maps app on his phone. He gave the phone to Bucky to start typing your addresses in the search bar.

You laughed at Sam's question. "Yeah, but Y/F/N lives closer, so can we drop her off first, Mr. Falcon? Shit. Sorry. I mean Sam." You cringed at yourself for calling Sam Mr. Falcon like your friend did. You don't know if it's because you feel awkward, or the tension between you and Bucky, or the four drinks you had earlier.

Sam and Bucky laughed softly at Sam's new nickname, and that made you feel more awkward, and that made you laugh nervously. Bucky noticed that and said, "That's okay. I call him sometimes "Daddy Falcon," just like those girls on Twitter, just to tease him." 

"Hey man, what the hell? You promised you would not say that again. Why are you telling her, you freaky cyborg?" You laughed so hard at the way they speak to each other and their weird nicknames for each other.

"Wait, What? Cyborg? Is that your actual nickname?" You laughed at Bucky while your friend was napping silently with her head on your lap.

"No, actually Bucky is my nickname," he overstressed the word 'Bucky' while looking at Sam, giving him a death glare, which made you giggle more. "But Sam just loves giving me a hard time."

"What? Man, who's giving who a hard time with that "Daddy Falcon" bullshit? I ain't nobody's daddy." Sam said while focusing on the road. You can't stop giggling at this point.

"Whatever, Sam. I'm sorry, okay? Truce?" Bucky said to Sam, smiling and looking at you from time to time through the rearview mirror.

"Fine," Sam said while still looking at the road ahead and rolling his eyes at Bucky.

"Shit, can I put the location on the map? because I think we're close to her apartment." You snapped out of your laughter and motioned with your hand for Bucky to give you the phone and type in the location. Bucky handed you the phone, and you started typing in your friend's apartment location, which was only five minutes away from your current location. You handed the phone back to Bucky, and he started directing Sam to the location. *

You made sure your friend was comfortable and sleeping well in her bed after you took her shoes off, tucked her under the blanket, turned off the light, and left. Buck and Sam were waiting for you downstairs outside the car. You walked toward them and smiled, saying, "I'm so sorry guys, we've been such a huge burden on you tonight. I really appreciate your help and kindness. Thank you."

They both smiled at you, saying stuff like "Don't mention it", "It's okay," and "We're happy to help." The three of you went into the car again, and Sam started driving to your house. The distance from your friend's apartment to yours was around fifteen minutes, so you started chatting with them and getting to know them better. You learned that they were staying here at the Avengers Tower and that Sam is not from around here usually, but Bucky is from Brooklyn. He kept telling you about his life back then, in the forties, and how he was adjusting to this new world. You and Sam joked a bit about Bucky's age, but he didn't mind it. He actually laughed at some of your jokes.

You were startled by the voice of the GPS lady saying, "You've arrived at your destination," and you felt upset for leaving them too soon. You exchanged numbers with Bucky and Sam and promised them to hang out with them soon and have brunch.

Out of politeness, you invited them over to your apartment for some coffee, and Sam agreed right away, while Bucky was just thinking about it. You were kind of surprised by his immediate agreement, which made you question if they had other intentions towards you. But you brushed these thoughts away when you saw that kind, loving, and gentle look in Bucky's eyes when he looked at you.

As soon as you got out of the car and were guiding them to your building's entrance door, Sam stopped in his tracks and exclaimed loudly, "Oh shit man, I forgot." You and Bucky stopped and looked at him, worried.

"I promised Sarah I'd call her tonight, and I completely forgot. Man, I hate when this happens. She must be worried, thinking something happened to me or else. I've got to go. Sorry, Y/N. It was very nice to meet you. We'll catch up soon, okay?" He gave you a small hug and pulled away. “Sorry, Buck, I've got to head home. You have Uber on your phone, right? Remember, I taught you how to use it." He smirked and winked at Bucky, who was, by the way, giving him the most deadly glare ever as he connected the dots and figured out Sam's plan to leave you and him alone. "You finish that cup of coffee first. I think you need to sober up a little." He gave Bucky a small hug too and whispered something in his ear that you couldn't hear, even though you tried eavesdropping. "Again, Y/N, very nice to meet you. See you later. Bye." He sprinted to his car, went in, and started to drive off.

"Okay, so I think it's just the two of us then." You smiled at Bucky and turned your head away from him to open the building's door with your keys. You guided him inside and went to your apartment, which was on the third floor. You opened the door to your apartment, invited him in, and apologized for the mess, which was not so messy, but you just felt awkward. Especially in the presence of him and the fact that both of you were finally alone in the privacy of your own house, which made the very unholy thoughts about him grow wilder.

You both took off your jackets and sat on the couch. You excused yourself to go make the coffee, but as soon as you stepped into the kitchen, you forgot that you ran out of coffee this morning and that you were supposed to go buy some the next morning. You cursed at yourself and felt so embarrassed. You went back into the living room and found him texting on his phone. Little did you know that he was texting Sam "very uncool" for what Sam did and for that lame excuse to leave you both alone.

When he noticed you were in the living room with empty hands and pouting lips, he asked if everything was okay. "I forgot I ran out of coffee this morning; I'm sorry." You pouted your lips and dropped your shoulders. He smiled at how cute you looked right now. "I have tea if you like." You smiled at him, and his gaze turned so softly toward you.

"Tea would be great. Thanks." He said it, smiling. You hopped on your feet, turned, and went to the kitchen, making tea for you and him. After six or seven minutes, you returned with two hot mugs of tea. You handed him his mug and sat next to him on the couch.

You started chatting and talking about everything and anything. Despite all the talking and chatting, without your awareness, you both started to get closer to each other. It was like your bodies were magnets for each other. The tension thickens, and both of you can't help but stare at each other's lips while talking, drinking tea, or doing anything else. You noticed that he licks his lips before saying anything, and he noticed how you bite your lips when you're concentrating on what he's saying or when you're staring at his lips.

After an hour or so of talking, you noticed that you were so close to him now that you could feel his hot breath on your face and how he was controlling all your senses now, with his hands touching your leg, his musky and minty scent surrounding you, and his blue eyes gazing softly at you. You were snapped back to reality when you became aware that you both hadn't said anything for the past ten minutes, and you even forgot who stopped talking first or who said the last word. You were just staring and looking at each other with very hungry eyes for one another.

"Can I kiss you?" He whispered while looking at your lips with his lustful blue eyes. Your heart skipped a beat at what he said as you became too excited and became more aware of the wetness growing between your legs.

You nodded as you tried your hardest to hide your grin. "Words, Honey. I need to hear you." He said this while looking at your eyes, then moving his gaze to your lips again as he moved his hand up and held your chin up while moving his thumb on your lip, pulling the bottom lip down and freeing it from between your teeth. You didn't notice; you were biting your lips the whole time.

"Yes, please." You whispered, but it came out more as a whine. He smashed his lips against yours. Kissing you passionately and hungrily. He poked and licked your lips with his tongue, asking for permission, which you happily granted him, and you opened your mouth to him so he could devour you more with his kisses and tongue.

You were so lost in the moment and in him, and you kept tugging and pulling his shirt, asking and wanting more. He pushed you down on the couch with his body and laid on top of you, making out with you fiercely. Needing you more than you need him. You started lazily pulling his shirt up while bending and lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist. You felt his erection poking and rubbing your inner thighs, which made you moan into his mouth.

He pulled away and started taking his shirt off while you were lifting your short dress up to your hips and waist, exposing your black lace underpants. Suddenly, you felt like you were rushing into things, and the situation between you two escalated too quickly. You don't want him to have the wrong idea of you, just as you don't want this to be a one-night stand. You want more. You want him to be yours.

"I-I just want to say that I don't do this at all." You said this while panting from the heat of it all and from that passionate make-out you just had.

"Do what?" He frowned and was confused. He thought you were backing out, and he was just embarrassing himself by taking his shirt off, thinking there could be more to this.

"I don't take guys I meet in the club home and sleep with them; I don't do one-night stands." You helped yourself sit up with your elbows while he was sitting and straddling you.

"I don't do one-night stands either." He smiled at you and cupped your cheeks as he kept moving his thumb on your lips. "I just can't help myself around you and can't help how my body reacts to you. I never had this feeling or attraction to anyone before." He pushed you down and started kissing your exposed neck. "Fuck, you're so beautiful. I've never seen such a beauty like yours before." He looked into your eyes while grinding his hardened length into your clothed core. You moaned slightly, which was an opportunity for him to bury his tongue in your mouth again. 

"Can you be mine for tonight?" He groaned against your mouth while still grinding into you. "Can you be my girl for tonight?" He started leaving wet and sloppy kisses on your neck and collarbone, moving down to your chest.

"Yes, please, Bucky. I'm your girl." You moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist again while your hands kept rubbing and playing with his hair.

You noticed the scars on his left shoulder near his metal arm, and you suddenly remembered who he really is and his dark past. You wanted to reassure him, so you started kissing the scars on his shoulder and paying more attention to them. "You are perfect, Bucky. So perfect, I could just eat you." You said this to him while grinning and tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth. You could clearly see his gaze soften and his cheeks turn bright red as he chuckled shyly.

"Look who's talking." He smiled and started kissing you passionately again. "Can we take this to the bedroom, plum?" He kissed your cheek and kept moving down, kissing your neck and collarbone.

"I was about to tell you that. The condoms are in the bedroom, anyway." You said that out of breath. You felt his arms wrapping around you and hugging you tight to his chest as he pulled you up in his arms and held you tight as he stood up, and you directed him to your bedroom while filling his neck with kisses and noticed the red marks of your ruined lipstick on him. You took a look at his face and found his mouth all smeared with red lipstick. You smiled at that sight. "This shade looks very flattering on you, Sergeant Barnes." You giggled and swiped your thumb on his lips while cupping his cheek in your palm as he was smiling like an idiot at you.

He turned on the light in your bedroom and threw you gently on the bed. He threw himself on you after taking off his dark pants, while you removed your ruined dress and threw it on the floor, leaving the two of you bare-chested. You kept making out more with him while he kept grinding his length on your clothed cunt and moaning in each other's mouths. "Can I?" he panted as he hooked his fingers on the elastic band of your underpants, asking for permission to take them off.

"Yes, please." You breathed out and lifted your hips off the bed, making it easier for him to take them off. He removed it gently and threw it across the room. He placed both of his hands on your knees and opened your legs widely. He gasped a little at the picture in front of him—your soaking wet cunt bared to him as you're fully naked underneath him with your perfect-rounded breasts moving up and down because of your panting and your perked nipples being so tempting for him to just suckle on them all night long. His mouth was open, and his eyes were full of nothing but hunger and lust as if he were eating your body with his gaze.

"Fuck, you're perfect." His hands slipped so nicely and easily from your calf up to your hips, and he started circling your sensitive bud with his thumb. "I want you to be my fucking girl forever." He started kissing your body all over. From your hips to your arms to your belly button to your breast, he kept sucking on your nipples for a little bit. All of that while his metal hand never left your cunt, as he kept rubbing it and toying with your sensitive clit with his fingers. "If you let me in, doll, I don't think I'd ever be able to leave." He looked into your eyes while saying that.

Seeing the look on his face and the way his eyes were lost in yours, you got the feeling that it wasn't just some dirty talk and that he actually meant it. "Then don't leave, sergeant. Make me yours." You pulled him in for a long, deep kiss that left you both out of breath. You gasped loudly as you felt his finger enter your hole suddenly and stretch your it.

He pushed another finger in and kept pumping them slowly inside of you, curving and scissoring them and stretching you.

You can't control your need for him and his throbbing cock inside of you, as you can already feel it nudging your inner thigh and feel the wetness caused by the precum. "Sergeant, please, I need you. Stop teasing." You whined and pushed your hips up a little, signaling to him how desperate and needy you are for him.

He chuckled and asked you about the location of the condoms, and you motioned to him their location in the drawer of your bedside table. He lifted his body from on top of you, took off his boxers, and went to the condom drawer. He took some, threw them on the bed next to you, took one in his teeth, unwrapped it, and put it on his cock.

You looked at the four or five extra condoms next to you and looked at him, confused, with an evil grin on your face. "Don't worry, plum. You're my girl now, remember? And tonight, I get to fuck my girl as much as I want. And I really want to keep you impaled on my cock all night long. Is that okay with you, doll?" He was massaging your inner thighs and mirroring your evil grin.

"Yes, sergeant. I'm all yours to fuck." You teased back and opened your legs more, giving him more access. He smirked at you and lined up the head of his cock with your entrance. He started to push in slowly while you wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him closer, which made him push half of his cock into you. You cried out at the burn and stretch of his cock, which you thought was carved by the gods because of how magnificent and big it is. 

He pushed his cock into you until he bottomed out. You felt so full that if he switched the angle, he'd be able to touch your cervix with the head of his cock. He was that deep in your cunt. "You're so tight, doll. So perfect for me. Fuck, I won't last long." He groaned as he started moving and thrusting slowly. You just can't control your moans or cries at that moment, and you don't care. His name was falling out of your mouth like a prayer as he picked up the pace and started to thrust faster and deeper.

He lifted your legs up and placed them on his shoulders. This new position made him go even deeper, and as you thought, his cock is hitting your cervix and that deep spot in you that makes you scream like a woman possessed. He hugged your legs with his left arm, and the other one was pressed against your lower stomach while his thumb was moving in circles on your swollen clit. You were so close, and your throat started to itch and soar from your uncontrollable screams and cries. You've never been fucked that good, you thought to yourself. He was hitting all the right spots, moving at the perfect pace, and just being irresistible enough to make you fall in love with him. He stole your breath away from that first glance at the bar, but now? Now he was fucking you like he knew you, your spots, and what you wanted and liked. It's like you were made for each other.

Your orgasm crashed into you suddenly, and by then you were just a whimpering mess. Bucky didn't stop and kept fucking you through your orgasm, making it last longer and focusing on pleasuring you more. You were clenching around his cock like crazy, and he kept moaning and whimpering like a teenage boy losing his virginity for the first time. He snapped and emptied his load inside of you as his thrusts got sloppier. "Fuck, doll, I think the condom broke." He noticed that when he looked at where your bodies were connected and saw that big cut on the head of the condom. He chuckled softly and looked at you.

You pulled your legs down from their positions on his shoulder and lifted yourself up on your elbows to see how it broke. "What the hell? How did that happen?" You were panting, then you looked at him and chuckled at that dumb accident.

"I don't know. Maybe because of how hard and fast I was going and with your cunt choking my cock like a vase, I'd say I'm surprised it snapped like this instead of being taken off by the pressure." He giggled, moved his head down, and kissed you. "But don't worry doll. I got you." He pulled himself out of you and moved down your body until he was face-to-face with your swollen cunt. "I'll make sure you get all cleaned up." He said this before lapping and licking your mixed white liquid. Which didn't help your oversensitivity and made you get overstimulated quickly.

"God, Bucky, I'm going to cum again." You cried out, pulled on his hair, and pushed your hips up a bit, almost riding his face. He hummed and groaned while sucking your clit and shaking his head. That made you fall off the edge quicker and you came and gushed all over his face.

He didn't stop until he cleaned you up of everything, and you kept twitching and shaking from the overstimulation, but it felt too good to tell him to stop. After he fulfilled his promise and got you all cleaned up with his tongue, he pulled away and threw himself on the bed next to you after taking you in his arms first and hugging you closely. You lifted your leg over his and hugged him back. You both kept cuddling for a while in your bed, trying to catch your breath while looking at each other and smiling like stupid kids.

"Thank you." He said it softly and kissed your forehead. while stroking your arm gently.

"For what?" You smiled in confusion and looked deeply into his hazy blue eyes.

"I'll tell you later, but now my girl needs to rest for a while because I'm not done with her yet." He tickled you, and you both were laughing and enjoying each other's presence so much that you didn't want to leave each other for one second, and your hands couldn't get off one another.

Of course, the rest of the night you spent it talking and learning more about each other, and to take a break from all the talking and trauma dumping, you kept fucking like rabbits. You don't know how or when it happened, but you fell deeply in love with him and wanted him to actually be yours. 

The next day, you woke up and found him making breakfast in your kitchen. You were so happy to find him discovering things in your kitchen and making food, and you wished silently to wake up every morning to this sight. Later, while you both were eating breakfast, he asked you out on a date and told you how much he liked you, enjoyed your company, and wanted to be your boyfriend. You agreed immediately and kept making out with him for the rest of the day until he had to leave because of an emergency meeting that occurred in the tower. You found it so hard to let him go and kept clinging to him, even when he was getting dressed, but he promised he'd come right back to you once he finished the meeting. You eventually agreed to let him go, and he told you he'd take you out for dinner tonight as your first official date. You gave him one last passionate kiss, and he left.

Later on, and after hundreds of dates and dating for almost a year now, he finally told you what he meant by thanking you after you both hooked up for the first time ever. He explained to you how this was his first time having sex since the forties, how he had that built-up sexual tension and frustration that almost made him lose his mind, and he started to feel insecure because of that, and how it all changed when he slept with you for the first time, and how you made it so easy for him and let him get back to his old self and feel like the old Bucky again, whom he thought was dead since that moment he fell off that train in Europe. Your relationship with Bucky was the best thing that ever happened to the two of you. You both changed each other, helped each other grow, and found out what being in love is actually like. He literally said "I love you" after the third week of being together and during a very hot love-making session, which was the best sex you've ever had in your life. Bucky was the best lover you could've asked for, and you were so grateful for him and for that night out with your friend in that Manhattan club that you were reluctant to go to in the first place. It was fate that brought you together.

[lovemomhatepolice]

wanna go on a little trip? - 1k celebration!

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

hi babes!!

IT HAPPENED!!! (correction - happening right now as I type this) we just reached the first thousand of you here! i am terribly, terribly grateful for you guys being here and supporting me in what i am doing, really. it means a lot to me.

and so I thought and thought, how can I repay you (and also encourage new people) for your wonderful support - and I've come to the point where I'm going to take you on a little trip :)

from 17.11.2024 to 23.11.2024 you have time to get youself for our trip. after that time we are on our way and do not collect latecomers!

well, what will you need for this adventure?

wine drunk (send a 🍷 for a nswf request) — well, someone seems to have had too much to drink at the club on our trip. oh, and who's making out in the corner? where are you guys going? — if you don't have an idea, choose something from these wonderful prompts (smutty one-liners, subtle smut, smut prompt list, first time. smut sentence, smut, “I wanna try it, bite it, lick it, spit it, pull it to the side and get all up in it”) authors: @creativepromptsforwriting, @nightprompts,

our dj (send a 💿 for a music request) — where is the dj? here you are, great! we have been waiting for you. turn on the music and it will be better right away — quick explanation: you write me the song you want and the character, EVENTUALLY the bigger details, and I write the story

oh no, we have problems (send a 🚔 for an angst) — what's that lights behind us? sh*t! i think we're in trouble. it's my fault?! no way, it's probably you who did something! — if you don't have an idea, choose something from these wonderful prompts (angry confessions, post argument, i can't stop loving you, situationship, too good for me, please don't leave me) authors: @dumplingsjinson, @me-writes-prompts,

10 UV (send a 🏝️ for a fluff) — it's so warm under that palm tree! I'm sweating all over, but the fact that I'm here with you makes my heart warm the most — if you don't have an idea, choose something from these wonderful prompts (acts of love, subtly physical affection, shy affection, established relationship, i care about you, falling in love, i think im in love with you, navigating through new relationship, no sexual intimacy) authors: @bonbonbee, @ricesinspo, @dumplingsjinson, @distort-t, @euthymiaaa, @me-writes-prompts)

and now the most important! who are we taking with us? all formula 1 drivers (and some exceptions like Arthur Leclerc), Pogues and Kooks, Avengers, footballers and wizards from Hogwarts

so once again - have fun! thank you lovely and let's fly for another thousand, eh?

your forever loving, fausti

PS. NO LIMITS, YOU CAN ORDER AS MUCH AS YOU WANT! and so can you reblog it to encourage fun :)

all stories will be tagged #tripwithfausti

[stormxpadme]

There's a bit of fanfiction negativity in the tags :(. Looking for something to cheer me up, what's your personal scogan fanfic favorites?

Yeah, I saw that, both in the scogan and scogean tag, with posts even including the character name tags. Like. Not cool, people. Way to make authors feel shitty who have been guarding the ship lighthouse for the last 20 years. Claiming in the most popular tags, there's only like 1 good fic among more than 1500? Wow, okay. So I was very happy to receive your ask. Let's counter that negativity with some awesome scogan reads!

Damaged by scottxlogan

Can't do any scogan rec list without including the leading authority on the subject. @scottxlogan is the author who pulled me into this ship years ago, not to mention they're a great friend, unbelievably talented writer and artist, and they deserve all the love. Damaged is surely one of their most ambitious projects and deserves every single view, kudos and review out there. Set in the DOFP finale verse that is no doubt the author's specialty, the story comes with an alluring, intricated plot that leaves you on the edge of your seat along with all the feels.

Submission by scottxlogan

I'm also including a newer work by the same author in case you just want to get a feel for how wonderfully she writes these guys, not to mention the shameless steamy goodness that are the author's smut scenes. scottxlogan is an expert at reversing common fandom tropes believably, and this will leave you longing for more of these power exchanges easily.

he carries the reminders by Wolfsheart

@mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea is another great friend and author I would trust even with my biggest squicks (not that she writes those anyway :D). She's not only technically brillant and very well-versed in the lore which makes every pairing she writes a great read (check out her Tony/Emma, too!), but she'll also never fail to make you laugh or put those hearts in your eyes. And don't miss all those pop culture references that even put Peter Parker to shame! She also gives us scogan fans exactly what we need with stories like this one, combining our fav hurt/comfort tropes with a healthy dose of canon fix it.

I loved you since I knew you by strangenewwords

@strangenewwords is a fairly new and dearly beloved addition to our group at @scoganbingo events, but she's already made a huge impact with her delicious smut and angst stories that hit you right in the feels. Technically also brillant, the linked story is definitely one you don't want to get spoilered for beforehand because the ending will leave you in absolute awe and tears. The author doesn't shy away from including the darkest sides of Scott's past but handles every subject with the necessary care and respect, and as I said ... You don't want to miss out on all that delicious smut!

The Day Before the Soldiers Came by Cerylid

Cery is offering a much-needed fixit for the team dynamics between the X-Men and Logan before X2 with this story. It comes with a lot of humor but also far more feels than you expect. The texting is hilarious but it's the quiet tones that get to you.

*****

Speaking of fix-its, since that negativity in the tags kinda got to me, too, I might just throw in one of my own works here too since I also got lots of Scogan stuff out there.

My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold

is basically my go-to X3 fix-it. You look for something to make that movie right, you got it all right there. Along with a bit of horror (we are talking about resurrection, after all) comes a dramatic rescue mission in a mental limbo, and you get an Avenger and Emma Frost guest-starring. There's a couple of follow up chapters that explore both scogan and Tony/Emma a bit further, and we even get a Laura version in old movieverse along the line, and of course all the nasty nasty smut you guys are here for.

########

So, that's it from the top of my hat. All these accounts have even more great stories to check out, and there's lots of other scogan authors out there with great stories to enjoy. So don't let anyone tell you, there's no quality scogan stuff on AO3.

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

The story untold no more - Bucky x Reader - part1

Summary: You want to tell a story no one has told before—not of the Winter Soldier, but of James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Journalist!Reader

Warnings for the whole story: English isn't my first language, so apologies for any mistakes. Reader has some descriptions. Angst, fluff, SMUT in 2nd chapter. So please do not interract if you're under 18, idiots in love. Not proof-read yet, so apologies...

A/N: I have been writing it for a while... having this idea in my head for over a year or so... I hope you guys like it reading at least as much as I loved writing it <3 Because the story is too long (ooopies) I need to divide it into two chapters, so apologies, but blame Tumblr, not me ;)

Words for the chapter: 15 805 (big oopsies)

The city’s symphony hummed through your half-open window—a blend of car horns, distant chatter, and the rustle of wind against skyscrapers. Beneath it all, the low, smoky cadence of jazz from your turntable added a timeless rhythm to the scene. You sat at your desk, eyes drawn to the framed black-and-white photograph perched on its corner: your great-grandfather, uniform sharp as his gaze, shaking hands with Captain America.

The photo was more than a relic. Its corners were frayed, the edges softened by years of proud display, but its essence remained undiminished—a talisman of duty, an unspoken promise that had been passed down with every new generation. To you, it was more than a family heirloom. It was a call to action.

Maybe that’s why the Avengers had always felt less like strangers in capes and more like a cause you were meant to champion. You weren’t just drawn to them; you were tethered to their story, defending them when no one else would.

Your career in journalism hadn’t begun with dreams of fame or Pulitzers. No, it had been born out of something far simpler and more profound: a sense of responsibility. The day Tony Stark stood at that podium and declared, “I am Iron Man,” the world had turned on him faster than it had celebrated him. One moment he was a hero; the next, a reckless billionaire with a penchant for self-destruction. The headlines were ruthless, tabloids voracious in their takedowns. But you? You saw something else.

Instinct, or maybe that familial debt, told you there was more beneath the bravado. With a press badge still warm from the printer and a recorder borrowed from your college newsroom, you wrote your first piece. It wasn’t perfect—raw around the edges, maybe a little too earnest—but it defended Tony Stark in a way no one else dared to.

To your astonishment, it caught his attention. Months later, you found yourself in the legendary Stark workshop, an organized chaos of brilliance and madness. Tony, tinkering with a half-finished contraption, had barely glanced up when you entered.

“Nice piece,” he said, his tone as dry as the scotch he usually favored. “Didn’t expect anyone to actually get it right.”

You fumbled for a response, somewhere between awe and intimidation. “I just… wanted to tell the truth.”

He finally looked at you, a glimmer of amusement flickering behind his eyes. “Well, aren’t you noble?”

That was the beginning. Over the years, you became a fixture in Tony’s world—not a friend exactly, but a constant presence. The one journalist he could count on to navigate the blurred lines between heroism and humanity without sensationalism. You stood by him through scandals and triumphs, from his bold experiments to the fallout of the Sokovia Accords.

“You’re one of the only people who doesn’t make me want to throw my drink at the TV,” he once told you at one of his infamous parties, raising his glass with a smirk. “That’s high praise, by the way.”

Your relationship with Steve Rogers was different. Where Tony was sharp edges and biting wit, Steve was all steadfast resolve and quiet strength. You first met him at a charity gala, where he lingered at the edges of the room like a man still learning how to fit into this new century. When you mentioned the photograph of your great-grandfather, his expression softened.

“Thank you for your family’s service,” he said, shaking your hand with sincerity that left a lasting impression.

Steve earned your trust slowly, just as you earned his. There was no pretense with him, no theatrics. He respected your work—even when it challenged him—and you, in turn, respected his unwavering moral compass. That respect brought you to his Brooklyn apartment one crisp autumn morning, your notebook clutched tightly in your hands.

Steve greeted you at the door, his hair slightly mussed from an early run, dressed in the kind of casual simplicity that made him seem all the more unassuming. He waved you inside with a curious smile.

“What’s this about?” he asked as you settled onto the worn couch.

You hesitated, knowing the weight of what you were about to say. “It’s about James Barnes.”

His expression hardened, his guard rising instinctively. “What about him?”

“I want to tell his story,” you said, keeping your tone steady but earnest.

Steve’s eyes narrowed, his posture stiff. “Why?”

“Because people deserve to know the truth,” you replied. “Right now, all they see is the Winter Soldier—a weapon, a killer. But that’s not who he is. It’s not who he was. I want to give him a chance to tell his side, to show the world the man beneath the headlines.”

The silence that followed felt endless. Steve stared at a spot on the floor, the weight of your words sinking in. Finally, he looked up, his gaze filled with both caution and hope.

“And you think an article will fix that?” he asked softly.

“It’s a start,” you said. “Let me interview him. Let me write a series that goes beyond what he’s done—to who he is. Let people see him as more than his past.”

Steve exhaled slowly, the conflict evident in his furrowed brow. “Bucky doesn’t trust easily,” he said at last. “And I don’t blame him. What you’re asking… It's a lot.”

“I know,” you said, leaning forward. “But I believe in him, Steve. And I think you do, too.”

For a moment, the room felt heavier than the two of you. Then, Steve nodded, his resolve softening. “I’ll talk to him. But it’s his decision. If he says no…”

“Then I’ll drop it,” you promised.

As you stepped out into the brisk fall air, your chest felt lighter, the ache of doubt replaced by the spark of determination. This wasn’t just another story. It was a chance to rewrite the narrative, to shed light on the shadows Hydra had left behind.

And you wouldn’t waste it.

---

The kitchen in the Avengers Compound was unusually still, save for the soft hiss of the espresso machine steaming milk. Early sunlight filtered through the tall windows, catching motes of dust in its golden glow. Steve Rogers sat at the island, his hands wrapped around a glass of water. His fingers tapped an unsteady rhythm against the countertop, betraying the careful composure of his expression. He was rehearsing his words, running through the conversation he was about to have—one he knew wouldn’t be easy. But then again, when did anything involving Tony Stark ever come without complications?

The sound of footsteps broke the quiet. Tony breezed in, tablet tucked under one arm, a coffee mug in the other. His T-shirt, emblazoned with a faded logo of a band whose prime was decades past, hung loose over a pair of well-worn jeans. His mismatched socks peeked out as he moved, their carelessness somehow perfectly in character.

“Cap,” Tony greeted without pausing, setting his coffee down with a deliberate clink. “You’ve got that look. What is it this time? End of the world? Time travel? Or did someone touch my lab without leaving a thank-you note?”

Steve sighed, rolling his eyes. “Relax, Tony. It’s not that serious.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony drawled, taking a long sip of his coffee. “Serious to you usually means catastrophic to the rest of us, so go ahead. Lay it on me.”

Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. “It’s about Bucky.”

Tony stilled mid-sip, his shoulders tightening almost imperceptibly before he set the mug down. “Of course it is,” he said, his tone sliding into mock exasperation. “Alright, what’s going on with Barnes this time? And don’t tell me this is where you ask me to bankroll his therapy bills. I will, but only because I’m a masochist.”

The corner of Tony’s mouth twitched—a shadow of humor undercutting the still-fresh scars of their shared history. Years had softened the rift between Tony and Bucky, but some wounds lingered like phantom pains, waiting for moments like these to ache.

“It’s not that,” Steve replied, shooting him a sharp look. “This is… different. Someone wants to help him.”

Tony’s brow arched, skepticism flickering in his dark eyes. “Someone? Oh, no. Don’t tell me you mean her—our resident do-gooder with a press badge.”

Steve nodded.

Tony whistled low, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve got to hand it to her. Girl’s got guts. And a death wish if she thinks she can crack open that vault of suppressed trauma Barnes is carrying.”

“She’s not just doing this on a whim, Tony,” Steve said firmly. “She wants to tell his story. The real story. Not just the headlines or the conspiracy theories.”

Tony tilted his head, his lips quirking in thought. “I’ll give her this: she’s got a way of spinning truth into something people can stomach. Hell, if it weren’t for her, the world would still think I’m just an egomaniac with a God complex. Not that they’re entirely wrong.” He grinned briefly before sobering. “But Barnes? That’s a mountain of baggage even she might not be able to unpack.”

“She can handle it,” Steve said, unwavering. “If anyone can, it’s her.”

Tony ran a hand over his face, the humor ebbing from his expression. “Alright, Rogers. Sell it to Barnes. But if he snaps and puts another dent in my walls, you’re footing the repair bill this time.”

---

In the compound’s gym, the rhythmic thud of fists against leather echoed through the space. Bucky Barnes was relentless, his punches driving into the heavy bag with the precision of a man who had fought too many battles to count. Sweat slicked his brow and clung to his shirt, but he didn’t pause. The steady impact was the only thing keeping the noise in his head at bay.

“Bucky,” came Steve’s voice, quiet but firm, from the doorway.

Bucky stopped mid-swing, his breath heavy as he turned. Steve approached slowly, hands in his pockets, his expression calm but resolute—the way he always looked when he was about to say something he knew wouldn’t go over well.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, reaching for the towel draped across a bench.

Steve leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. “It’s about someone who wants to talk to you. Someone I trust.”

Bucky frowned, suspicion tightening his features. “Talk to me? About what?”

“Your story,” Steve said simply. “She’s a journalist. Someone who’s been with us since the beginning. She’s defended Tony, stood by me… she understands what it means to fight for the truth, even when it’s hard.”

Bucky scoffed, tossing the towel aside. “What truth is there to tell, Steve? The world doesn’t want to hear it. They don’t care about who I was—they only see what I’ve done.”

“That’s exactly why she wants to do this,” Steve countered. “To show people who you are now. Who you were before Hydra. To give them a reason to look beyond the Winter Soldier.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his gaze falling to the floor. “You think one article will fix everything? That people will forget the blood on my hands?”

“No,” Steve said quietly. “But it might make them see the full picture. And if anyone can get it right, it’s her.”

Bucky was silent, the weight of Steve’s words pressing down like the memories he tried so hard to suppress. Finally, he looked up. “Why her?”

“Because I trust her,” Steve replied. “And if you can trust me, then trust this: she won’t make you regret it.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll meet her. But I’m not making any promises.”

“That’s all I need,” Steve said, a hint of relief softening his voice.

---

As Steve left, the gym fell back into its familiar stillness. Bucky sat on the bench, staring at the floor. The idea of sharing his story—letting a stranger into the labyrinth of his past—felt impossible. But he owed Steve. And maybe, just maybe, he owed it to himself too.

He resumed wrapping his hands, his movements slower this time. Somewhere deep in his chest, beneath the doubt and the fear, a small flicker of hope sparked—a fragile ember, but an ember nonetheless.

---

The gym at Avengers Tower was still, an expanse of silence broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioning. The sharp tang of leather, sweat, and faintly metallic cleaning agents lingered in the air. You arrived earlier than planned, your footsteps soft against the polished floor as you took in the emptiness of the space. It was better this way. You’d asked Steve to let you handle this alone—not out of pride, but because this conversation required something unspoken, something delicate.

This wasn’t just about Bucky Barnes. It was about trust, a foundation that could only be laid between the two of you.

The door creaked open, and a shadow spilled across the floor. Bucky stepped inside, his movements deliberate, shoulders broad and heavy with tension. His dark T-shirt and track pants clung to a frame honed by war and survival. His long hair framed his face, softening features etched by years of conflict. But it was his eyes—those stormy blue-gray eyes—that hit hardest. They swept over the room, sharp and assessing, before landing on you.

You felt the air leave your lungs. Steve had warned you about Bucky’s presence, the way he carried himself with a silence that could fill a space, heavy and unyielding. But standing there, facing him, it wasn’t just his silence—it was the weight of his past, worn like a second skin.

He lingered by the doorway for a moment, the hesitation subtle but unmistakable, before crossing the room. His steps were quiet, almost predatory, his body language cautious but not unkind. Without a word, he sank to the floor in the far corner of the gym, his back to the wall, knees bent, hands resting loosely on his thighs.

“You’re early,” he said, his voice rough, like gravel scraped over stone.

“So are you,” you replied with a soft smile, easing yourself to the floor across from him. You kept the distance respectful but not distant—close enough to bridge, far enough to let him feel in control.

The silence between you stretched, taut and uneasy. You could feel it radiating off him—the tension, the readiness to retreat or fight if the moment called for it.

“I appreciate you meeting with me,” you began gently, your tone steady but warm. “I know this isn’t what you wanted.”

Bucky’s lips twitched—a flicker of dry humor that barely creased his face. “You’d be right.”

You chuckled softly, the sound light, unobtrusive. “Fair enough. Let’s make a deal, then—if you want me gone, just say the word, and I’ll leave. No hard feelings.”

He tilted his head slightly, his sharp gaze pinning you. “Steve said you’re stubborn.”

“He’s not wrong,” you admitted, your smile widening slightly. “But I promise I’m not here to push you into anything. This is just a conversation.”

Bucky studied you for a long moment, the weight of his stare pressing down like a physical force. Then, with a reluctant nod, he gestured for you to continue.

You introduced yourself, offering your full name. “I’m a journalist. Though, I like to think of myself as a storyteller. I’ve been writing about the Avengers for years. My first piece was about Tony, back when he announced he was Iron Man.”

Bucky’s brows lifted, faint amusement flickering across his face. “Tony Stark. Bet that was something.”

“It was,” you said, laughing softly. “He thought I was some starry-eyed rookie—and, to be fair, he wasn’t entirely wrong. But over time, I guess I earned his trust. I’ve been writing about the team ever since. I don’t take sides. I just try to tell the truth.”

Bucky leaned back, the tension in his posture easing just slightly. “And Steve? How’d you meet him?”

“My great-grandfather,” you said, your voice softening. “He was in the 107th. Steve saved him during the war. There’s a picture of them shaking hands—it’s been in my family for decades. When I met Steve, I told him about it. I guess that’s how it all started.”

Something flickered in Bucky’s eyes—recognition, curiosity. He frowned slightly, tilting his head. “Your great-grandfather… William, right? Had the weirdest way of talking I’ve ever heard.”

You froze, your breath catching. “You… remember him?”

Bucky nodded, a faint, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “I do. He was a good man. Brave. Had this sharp sense of humor that could catch you off guard. You’ve got his eyes.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, the connection unexpected and profound. You swallowed against the sudden lump in your throat, managing a quiet, “I didn’t think you’d remember him. That means… a lot.”

Bucky shrugged, but there was a warmth in his expression now—a subtle thawing of the guarded lines around his mouth and eyes.

Clearing your throat, you reached into your bag and pulled out a stack of printed articles, sliding them across the floor. “These are some of the pieces I’ve written. About Tony, Steve, the team. I thought it might help if you got to know me a little better.”

Bucky picked up the stack, flipping through the pages. His eyes moved over the headlines, lingering on a photograph of Steve. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, not looking up.

“Because I believe in second chances,” you said simply. “And because the world only knows one side of your story. I think it’s time they saw the whole picture.”

Bucky set the articles down, his jaw tightening. “And what if I don’t want them to?”

“Then that’s your choice,” you replied. “If you tell me no, I’ll walk away, and you’ll never hear from me again. But all I’m asking is for a chance. Let me tell your story—with your permission, on your terms. Nothing gets published without your approval.”

His gaze lifted to meet yours, sharp and probing. “You’re putting a lot of faith in someone you don’t know.”

“I am,” you admitted, holding his stare. “But sometimes, the people who don’t think they deserve faith are the ones who need it the most.”

Bucky leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His expression was unreadable, a swirl of conflict and curiosity. “I’ll think about it,” he said at last.

Relief bloomed in your chest, but you kept it tempered. You stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Thank you for hearing me out, Bucky. That means more than you know.”

As you turned to leave, you glanced back and offered a small smile—unguarded, honest.

Bucky blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. It wasn’t pity or fear—it was something he hadn’t seen in years. And for the first time in a long time, he felt something crack through the armor of his guilt.

It terrified him.

---

The morning light spilled through your apartment window, golden and soft, stretching across the room in fractured beams. It casts a gentle glow over your desk, illuminating the scattered notes, books, and the faint ring left behind by your coffee mug. You sat motionless, fingers poised above the keyboard, your laptop’s screen glowing faintly in the quiet.

The cursor blinked, mocking your hesitation. Words had always been your refuge, your weapon, but this was different. This wasn’t just about telling a story—it was about trust, about reaching into the shadows of someone else’s life and hoping they’d let you in.

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the city below. You adjusted the blanket draped over your shoulders, feeling its weight settle around you, a comforting barrier against the uncertainty creeping in. Finally, you exhaled a long, slow breath and began typing.

Subject: Something to Think About

Hi Bucky,

Thank you again for meeting with me the other day. I know how much it cost you to be there, to sit across from a stranger and let your guard down, even for a moment. I don’t take that lightly, and I want you to know how deeply I appreciate your time and your willingness to listen.

As I mentioned before, I want to approach this project carefully and with the respect it deserves. I’m not interested in sensationalism or rehashing the narratives that have already been written about you. The world has enough stories about the Winter Soldier. What I want to do is different—I want to tell the story of the man. The friend. The brother. The soldier who existed long before the shadows ever found you.

I’ve been thinking about how to begin, and I wanted to share a rough outline of the first article with you. This isn’t a finished piece; it’s just a concept, a foundation I hope to build with your guidance, your voice, and your trust.

Title: The Soldier and the Shadows

Before the world whispered his name in fear, James Buchanan Barnes was simply a boy from Brooklyn. Born to a city that thrived on resilience, he was shaped by streets where laughter mixed with the roar of trains and kindness could be as fleeting as the breeze off the East River. He was the boy with the quick grin and sharper wit, the teenager who walked with a quiet confidence and an unshakable loyalty to those he loved.

He became a soldier, not for the glory but because it was the right thing to do. His sacrifices were not grandiose; they were quiet and deeply personal, offered not to the world but to the people who mattered to him. He stood shoulder to shoulder with heroes but never sought to be one himself. He was, in so many ways, a reflection of the best his generation had to offer.

But history can be cruel. And fate? Even crueler. Through no fault of his own, James Buchanan Barnes became a name that conjured fear, a figure cloaked in tragedy. To the world, he was the Winter Soldier—a ghost forged by the hands of those who sought to strip him of everything he was. For a time, they succeeded.

But what the world doesn’t see is the man who fought tooth and nail to reclaim his humanity. They don’t see the friend who would give everything to protect those he loves. They don’t see the man who carries the weight of choices he never made yet feels responsible for all the same.

This isn’t just a story about redemption—it’s a story about survival, about finding identity in the aftermath of unimaginable loss. It’s a story about what it means to fight your way out of the dark and into the light, scarred but standing.

The world knows the myth. The shadow. The weapon. But James Buchanan Barnes is not a ghost of the past. He’s a man, living proof that even in the aftermath of tragedy, there is hope, resilience, and the possibility of something more.

This is his story. Told not by those who fear him or those who sought to control him, but by the one person who knows it best: him.

There’s something else I wanted to share with you—a photo. It’s the one I mentioned during our meeting, the picture of my great-grandfather with Steve during the war. It’s been part of my family’s story for as long as I can remember, a quiet reminder of courage and loyalty.

But now, it means even more to me. When you said you remembered him—his voice, his humor—it reminded me how deeply our stories can ripple through time, even when we don’t realize it. That small moment of recognition meant more to me than I can express.

[PHOTO ATTACHMENT]

Take your time, Bucky. There’s no rush, no pressure. This isn’t about a deadline or a byline—it’s about something bigger. I’m here to listen, to answer your questions, your doubts, anything at all. All I ask is that you think about it.

Whatever you decide, thank you. For your time. For your trust, however fragile it may feel.

Best regards.

---

As you reread the email, your fingers hovered over the “Send” button. You hesitated for a moment, the weight of what you were asking settling over you. Then, with a final, steadying breath, you clicked.

The email vanished into the ether, and with it, a piece of your hope, your determination. The sun climbed higher through the window, casting the room in golden light, but you barely noticed. Instead, you sat there, still and waiting, the faint hum of your laptop the only sound in the quiet room.

---

Bucky sat on the edge of his bed, the dim glow of his phone casting pale light across his face. He hadn’t expected to hear from you so soon, if at all. Yet there it was—your name, standing out in bold at the top of his inbox. His thumb hovered over the notification, hesitating.

Part of him wanted to ignore it, let it sit there untouched. Not because he wasn’t curious—he was—but because he wasn’t sure he was ready. The idea of someone wanting to dig into his past, to lay bare the scars and shadows he’d spent years burying, made his chest feel too tight.

But then he thought of the way you’d looked at him in the gym. Calm, patient, unafraid. And that damn smile you’d given him before you left—a smile that wasn’t forced or laced with pity, just honest. It had lingered in his mind longer than he cared to admit.

With a low sigh, he tapped the email.

The words hit him harder than he expected. He read the outline twice, then again, each pass leaving him with a knot in his chest he couldn’t quite untangle. This wasn’t what he’d anticipated. There was no pity in your words, no attempt to paint him as a tragic figure or a monster. Instead, there was care—an earnest effort to understand him, not as the world saw him, but as the man he was trying to be.

Then he reached the photo. His breath caught.

The image filled his screen, black and white but vivid all the same. Your great-grandfather, standing tall in his uniform, shaking hands with Steve. Bucky enlarged it, his fingers brushing the edges of the screen as though touching the past itself.

The memory surfaced, distant but clear. He remembered the firm handshake, the soldier’s steady gaze filled with quiet gratitude. He remembered Steve’s smile—small but unwavering, the kind that could make you believe they’d already won the war, even when the odds said otherwise.

“She’s really got his eyes,” Bucky murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, fleeting but real.

He set the phone down, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing a hand over his face. The photo stayed etched in his mind, a bridge between the past and the present he hadn’t expected. His gaze shifted to the articles you’d included, still neatly stacked on the table beside him. For a long moment, he just stared at them, debating.

Finally, with a reluctant sigh, he picked up the first one.

It was about Tony. One of your earliest pieces, written back when the world wasn’t sure what to make of Iron Man.

"Stark isn’t perfect—far from it—but he doesn’t hide behind a mask of infallibility. He owns his flaws, his mistakes, and his triumphs. That kind of honesty is rare, and it’s exactly what makes him worth believing in."

Bucky’s brow furrowed as he read, his lips pressing into a thin line. He could picture Tony in those early days, all sharp edges and bravado, as polarizing as he was brilliant. And yet, your words cut through the noise, painting him not as an enigma but as a man.

The second article was about Steve. Bucky’s fingers tightened slightly on the paper as he read.

"Captain America has always been a symbol, but symbols are rarely understood in their entirety. Steve Rogers is not just the man with the shield; he is a man who bears the weight of his choices with quiet strength. To reduce him to hero or villain is to miss the heart of who he is."

By the time he finished, Bucky sat back, the papers still in his hands. Each article told a story, not of perfect heroes but of flawed, complicated people. People who’d been trusted with the weight of the world and had carried it as best they could.

And then there was you. Your voice threaded through every word—not just as an observer, but as someone who cared, who wanted the world to see what you saw.

Bucky’s mind raced. Steve trusted you. Tony trusted you. And now, maybe—just maybe—he could, too.

He picked up his phone again, his thumb hovering over the reply button. His chest tightened at the thought of agreeing, of opening himself up to something he wasn’t sure he could handle. But then he thought of that smile again, the way it had silenced the doubts just long enough for him to believe this might be possible.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he started typing.

Subject: Re: Something to Think About

I’ve read the articles you sent. They’re good—honest.

I don’t know if I can do this, but I’m willing to try. You’re right. I need time to think, but I’ll give you a chance.

Thank you for the photo. It means more than you probably realize.

Let me know when you want to start.

Bucky,

He hit send before he could second-guess himself, setting the phone down quickly, almost like it might burn him if he held onto it any longer.

The silence of the room pressed in around him, but for once, it wasn’t oppressive. It felt… lighter, somehow. Like maybe, just maybe, he’d taken the first step toward something he hadn’t allowed himself to hope for in a long time.

---

The gym felt quieter than usual as you stepped inside, the faint hum of the air conditioning blending with the soft creak of the door. Morning light filtered in through the high windows, casting long shadows across the polished floor. The space felt familiar now—not in a comforting way, exactly, but in the sense of stepping into a story already half-written, waiting for its next chapter.

Bucky was easy to spot, sitting near the far wall with one leg bent, his arm draped over his knee. He seemed relaxed at first glance, but there was an edge to him, a tension in the line of his shoulders and the way his gaze flicked briefly toward you.

“Hey,” you said softly, approaching with a small smile, one you hoped might ease the weight in the room.

He nodded in return, his eyes shifting to the notebook tucked under your arm. “No laptop? No recorder?”

You chuckled as you sat down across from him, leaving a comfortable amount of space. “I figured they’d stress you out,” you admitted. “Plus, I’m old-fashioned. I like writing things by hand—it helps me think.”

That smile—the same unguarded one you’d given him before—spread across your face again. You noticed how it shifted something in Bucky, just the faintest softening of his expression. His shoulders dropped slightly, and the guarded look in his eyes dulled, if only a little.

“Old-fashioned, huh?” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Very,” you replied with a laugh. “And this way, you can read everything I write. Line by line, if you want. Nothing gets recorded, and if something goes wrong…” You tapped the edge of the notebook lightly. “I burn it. Problem solved.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking further. “Burn it?”

“Yep,” you said, your tone mock-serious. “I’ve even got a metal trash can ready for dramatic effect.”

That earned you a quiet huff of amusement, a sound so soft it almost slipped past you. But it was there. For the first time, you saw a glimmer of something in Bucky—a trace of humor, unburdened by the weight of his past.

He leaned back against the wall, his blue-gray eyes studying you. “You’re not what I expected,” he said after a moment.

You tilted your head curiously. “What did you expect?”

“Someone nosier. Pushier. Maybe a little annoying.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and Bucky’s lips twitched again, as if he was trying to resist smiling back.

“Well, give me time,” you teased. “I can be annoying when I need to be.”

His smirk lingered for a moment before fading into something more thoughtful. “Tell me about your childhood.”

The question caught you off guard. “My childhood?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, his voice even as his gaze stayed fixed on you.

“Uh… well, it was pretty normal,” you said with a small shrug. “I grew up in a loving family. My parents are still together—they’re celebrating their 30th anniversary this year. I’m an only child, so I was spoiled rotten. My great-grandfather was one of my favorite people. I used to sit with him for hours, listening to his stories. That’s probably where I got my love of storytelling.”

You smiled at the memory, but as you looked at Bucky, you noticed a shift in his expression—a flicker of something knowing.

“You already knew that, didn’t you?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

Bucky didn’t deny it. “I checked,” he admitted, his tone unapologetic. “Wanted to make sure you weren’t lying about who you are.”

You laughed again, waving it off like it didn’t bother you. “Fair enough. It’s not my first rodeo. When I met Tony, he knew more about me than I did. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d told me my blood type.”

That earned another quiet laugh from Bucky, the sound low and unpolished but real. “I still don’t trust easy,” he said, his voice softer now.

“And you shouldn’t,” you replied without hesitation. “I’d be more worried if you did.”

He nodded slowly, seemingly reassured by your response. But then his expression shifted, his eyes shadowed by something heavier. “There’s one thing you got wrong,” he said quietly.

“Oh?”

“In your introduction to the articles,” he began, meeting your gaze directly. “You said I always did what was best. That’s not true. I didn’t volunteer to join the army—I was drafted. You can look it up. My number’s on record.”

His words weren’t bitter, but you could hear the weight behind them. This wasn’t about correcting a mistake—it was about how he saw himself, the guilt he carried.

You didn’t falter. You met his gaze with the same quiet sincerity you’d shown before. “I know,” you said softly. “I did my research.”

Bucky blinked, momentarily surprised, but you continued.

“Just because you were drafted doesn’t mean you weren’t a good man,” you said. “It doesn’t change the fact that you fought to protect the people you cared about. That you were brave. That you mattered.”

For a moment, Bucky couldn’t respond. The way you said it—not as flattery or pity, but as something you truly believed—hit him harder than he expected. His chest tightened, and he looked away, the words settling in his mind like a stone dropped into water.

“Thanks,” he muttered finally, his voice rougher than he intended.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, your smile soft but unwavering.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt purposeful, like something unspoken was shifting between you. A bridge was being built, slow and deliberate, but solid.

Finally, you flipped open your notebook, breaking the quiet with a light, playful tone. “Alright,” you said. “Now that we’ve established I’m old-fashioned and nosy, are you ready to get started?”

Bucky glanced at you, his lips twitching faintly. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Let’s get started.”

And for the first time in years, Bucky Barnes felt the faint stirrings of trust—fragile but real—blooming in his chest.

---

The gym had become a rhythm unto itself, a sanctuary of quiet purpose. It wasn’t just a place for physical training anymore—it was where conversations were born, where silences grew into something meaningful, and where you and Bucky began to find a fragile but growing connection.

At first, your exchanges were cautious, fleeting, like testing the waters with bare toes. A comment here, a question there. But over time, those ripples expanded, stretching across the stillness until the silences between words became less about hesitation and more about comfort.

This wasn’t just an assignment for you anymore. You’d realized quickly that if you wanted Bucky to trust you, you had to strip away the pretense of being a journalist. What he needed wasn’t someone dissecting his past with surgical precision—he needed someone who could remind him he still had a future.

---

“Do you always carry that thing?” Bucky asked one afternoon, nodding toward the leather-bound notebook in your lap as he wrapped his hands in preparation for a sparring session.

You glanced down at the familiar journal, running your fingers over its worn edges. “Always,” you said with a small smile. “I’m old-fashioned like that. Writing things by hand just feels… more real. Like the words have weight.”

Bucky tilted his head, his brow furrowing in thought. “Don’t people say the opposite? If it’s not online, it doesn’t exist?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Maybe. But if the world ever loses its tech, at least my notebooks will still be around.”

His lips twitched into something close to a smile. “Fair point.”

---

Another time, you sat cross-legged on the floor, your notebook abandoned beside you. “Did you see they’re opening a new exhibition at the astronomy museum?” you asked, breaking the companionable silence.

Bucky paused mid-swing at the punching bag, glancing over at you. “Astronomy?”

“Yeah,” you said, your grin widening. “Space is kind of my thing. It’s infinite. Thinking about it makes me feel small, but in a good way, you know? Plus, this exhibit has a whole section on Mars rovers. I’ve always thought they were cool.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his faint smile betraying his amusement. “Didn’t peg you for the space type.”

“Oh, I’m into all sorts of nerdy stuff,” you said, waving a hand. “Space, ancient civilizations, true crime. I’m basically a walking trivia machine.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Bucky replied, his tone dry but warm.

You leaned forward, propping your chin in your hand. “Your turn. What’s something you’re into that I wouldn’t expect?”

Bucky’s brows furrowed as he thought about it. “I dunno,” he said after a pause. “I used to like going to the movies. Haven’t been in a while, though.”

“Really?” you said, your excitement piqued. “What kind of movies? Don’t tell me you’re secretly into rom-coms.”

That earned a snort of genuine laughter, his smile breaking through in full force. “Not exactly. I liked the old war films. Westerns, too.”

“War films and Westerns,” you repeated, nodding thoughtfully. “Classic. Fitting, I guess.”

“And you?” he asked, surprising you with the shift.

“What about me?”

“What’s your favorite kind of movie?”

You pretended to think hard, tapping your chin theatrically. “Probably cheesy underdog sports movies. You know, the ones where everyone comes together, and the team wins in the end? Gets me every time.”

Bucky shook his head, but there was warmth in his gaze that hadn’t been there before.

---

“Do you ever miss home?” Bucky asked one afternoon, his voice quiet as he adjusted the wrappings on his hands.

You tilted your head. “You mean where I grew up?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone casual, but his eyes sharp, watching your reaction carefully.

“I don’t really think of home as a place anymore,” you admitted, the edges of your voice softening. “For me, it’s people. My parents, my friends—the ones who make me feel like I belong. I visit the house I grew up in sometimes, though. My parents still live there. It hasn’t changed much.”

“You’re close with them?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, smiling at the thought. “They’re my biggest fans—and my harshest critics. My mom proofreads all my articles. My dad jokes that it’s because she doesn’t trust me to catch my own typos.”

That earned a quiet chuckle from Bucky, and the sound warmed something deep in your chest.

“What about you?” you asked carefully, your gaze steady but gentle.

Bucky hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know if I have a home anymore,” he said after a long pause. His voice was low, almost a murmur. “Not the way you’re talking about it.”

Your heart tightened, and you nodded slowly. “I get that. But maybe home isn’t something you find. Maybe it’s something you build.”

His eyes flicked to yours, his expression unreadable, but you could tell your words had settled somewhere deep.

---

The sound of his punches against the bag created a steady rhythm as you sat nearby, scrolling through your phone. The sudden sight of a headline made you gasp softly, your face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh my God,” you exclaimed, turning your phone toward Bucky. “Look at this!”

He paused mid-swing, wiping sweat from his brow as he glanced at the screen. “What is it?”

“This lion cub!” you said, scooting closer. “It was just born at the zoo. Look at that face—tell me that isn’t the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.”

Bucky leaned down slightly, peering at the image. The tiny cub, all fluff and oversized paws, was curled up against its mother.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and you started to wonder if you’d just embarrassed yourself. Then, to your surprise, he nodded, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. “Yeah… it’s cute.”

You stared at him, caught off guard by his quiet agreement.

“Really cute,” he added, his voice softer now, as if the cub had cracked through some small part of his guarded exterior.

You laughed nervously, feeling your cheeks flush. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to trade lives with a lion cub? Just sleeping, cuddling, and being adorable all day?”

Bucky straightened, grabbing a towel but letting his gaze linger on you for a moment longer than necessary. “You’re kind of like that already.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

He shrugged, his voice casual but his expression unreadable. “You’re always cheerful. It’s… nice.”

The compliment was so unexpected, so genuine, that it made your heart stutter. You quickly looked back at your phone, pretending to focus. “Well, someone’s gotta bring the sunshine, right?”

Bucky didn’t reply, but when you glanced up, his gaze was still on you, something unspoken passing between you.

And for the first time, you realized this wasn’t just about earning his trust. Something more was blooming here—something delicate, unspoken, and undeniably real.

---

The topic of food came up one day, unexpectedly light amid the ebb and flow of your usual conversations.

“There’s this food truck on the other side of town,” you said, leaning forward, your excitement bubbling over. “It’s run by locals, and everyone says it’s amazing. They’ve been doing these community food festivals, and I’ve been dying to check it out.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his posture still relaxed from finishing his workout. “Why haven’t you gone yet?”

You shrugged, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I just haven’t gotten around to it. Plus, it’s more fun to go with someone.”

To your surprise, Bucky didn’t hesitate. “I’ll go with you.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “You’ll… go? With me?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “Why not?”

For a moment, you just stared at him, searching for some hint of teasing, but his face remained calm, open. Then, before you could stop yourself, a laugh bubbled out of you, sudden and bright.

“What’s so funny?” Bucky asked, though his tone was tinged with amusement.

“I’m sorry,” you said between chuckles, shaking your head. “I’m just shocked, that’s all. I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh, the sound warm and unguarded. It was the first time you’d heard him laugh like that, and it struck something deep within you, a warmth that spread through your chest.

“You have a great laugh,” you said before you could think better of it. The moment the words left your lips, your cheeks flamed, and you clamped your mouth shut.

Bucky tilted his head, watching you curiously, but instead of teasing, he simply nodded. “When are we going?”

---

The evening air was thick with the scent of grilled meats, sizzling spices, and fried dough. Strings of warm lights hung overhead, casting a golden glow over the bustling food festival. Laughter and conversation rose and fell around you as locals and tourists darted between colorful trucks, balancing steaming plates of food and clinking plastic cups.

Bucky walked beside you, dressed inconspicuously in a baseball cap pulled low and a loose jacket concealing his metal arm. To anyone else, he looked like any other man enjoying the festival. But to you, the way his eyes scanned the food stalls with curiosity rather than wariness was a quiet triumph.

“Okay, what should we try first?” you asked, practically bouncing on your heels as you scanned the array of options.

Bucky nodded toward a truck boasting “authentic Italian cuisine.” “You pick. I’ll follow.”

Grinning, you made your way to the truck, and soon you were holding a plate of steaming spaghetti carbonara. You handed Bucky a fork, scooping up a bite and offering it to him.

“Here, try this,” you said, holding it out.

Bucky hesitated for only a moment before leaning in and taking the bite. His eyes widened slightly, and a low, involuntary groan escaped him.

You froze. That sound—so small, so unintentional—sent a jolt through you. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“That good, huh?” you said, trying to keep your voice light and steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Bucky nodded, swallowing before replying. “Yeah, it’s good.”

You smiled, taking a bite yourself. “Told you. Italians don’t mess around with food.”

---

As you wandered through the festival, stopping at a stall serving Chinese dumplings, you found yourself rambling between bites.

“You know, I used to want to be a food critic,” you said, laughing softly. “It seemed like the dream, right? Traveling, eating amazing food, writing about it. But then I realized I’d feel awful writing bad reviews. Like, what if the chef was just having a bad day?”

Bucky let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You feel bad about criticizing chefs, but not politicians?”

You pouted in mock defiance, crossing your arms. “Politicians deserve it,” you said, your tone playful.

His laugh came louder this time, a deep, rich sound that made you look up at him in surprise. He was smiling—really smiling—and the sight caught you off guard.

“What?” he asked, his laughter fading into something softer.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, shaking your head as a grin tugged at your lips. “It’s just nice to see you like this.”

He glanced away, but not before you caught the faintest hint of color rising in his cheeks.

---

Later, you found yourself at a shooting range game. The target? A giant teddy bear sitting proudly at the center of the stand.

You stared at the bear, your lips curling into a wistful smile.

“Why are you staring at it like that?” Bucky asked, following your gaze.

You shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to win one of those, like in the movies. But I’m terrible at shooting games.”

Bucky smirked. “Terrible, huh?”

“The worst,” you admitted dramatically.

Without a word, he handed you the food he’d been holding and stepped up to the booth. He exchanged a few bills with the operator, picked up the air rifle, and lined up his shot.

One by one, the cans toppled with effortless precision. The entire thing took less than ten seconds. The operator handed Bucky the bear, looking vaguely impressed.

Turning to you, Bucky held out the bear, his smirk softening. “There. Happy?”

Your squeal of delight was uncontainable as you hugged the bear to your chest. “Are you kidding me? This is amazing!”

Bucky chuckled, watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. For a moment, you thought he might say something, but he just shook his head, the faint smile lingering on his lips.

---

Back at the Tower, you sat on the floor of your apartment, the giant teddy bear propped up beside you like a loyal guardian. The box of desserts you’d brought home lay open between you and Bucky, who, to your surprise, had settled close—so close that his shoulder brushed against yours.

For a while, you ate in comfortable silence, but then Bucky broke it, his voice quiet.

“Why do you do all this?” he asked, not looking at you. “The food trucks, the conversations… You haven’t even written anything yet. Feels like I’m wasting your time.”

You set your fork down, startled by the vulnerability in his tone.

“You’re not wasting my time,” you said firmly. “I don’t care if it takes months to write anything. Getting to know you—this you—is the best part of all of this.”

He turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“This,” you continued, your voice softening. “The way you laugh, the way you care about the little things… That’s what I want people to see. That’s who you are.”

For a long moment, he didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he leaned his head against your shoulder, his eyes closing.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you stayed still, letting the warmth of his presence settle around you.

---

The Avengers Tower was unusually quiet as you wandered through its familiar halls. The kind of quiet that followed the steady hum of a busy day winding down, where every footstep seemed louder than it should. You had come, as always, to meet Bucky, notebook tucked snugly under your arm and a lingering thought about whether any desserts were left over from last night.

First, though, tea.

You found the kitchen easily—it wasn’t your first time navigating the compound’s labyrinthine halls. The space was sleek and modern, all polished countertops and gleaming appliances, with enough mugs in the cabinet to serve the entire team and then some. Reaching for two cups, you began preparing something warm, something simple—black tea for him, chamomile for you.

The quiet was broken by a familiar voice, low and tinged with amusement.

“Well, look who it is.”

Startled, you turned, still holding the mug, to see Natasha Romanoff leaning against the doorframe. She had that effortless poise she always carried, arms crossed and lips curled into a small, knowing smirk that seemed to see right through you.

“Natasha,” you greeted, managing a smile. You weren’t surprised to see her—she had a way of being everywhere and nowhere all at once. But something about her always left you feeling slightly off-balance, like you were playing a game without knowing the rules.

She stepped into the kitchen, her movements fluid as she grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. “How’s it going with Barnes?” she asked casually, though her sharp green eyes betrayed her genuine interest.

“It’s going… amazing,” you admitted, the honesty surprising even yourself. Your cheeks warmed as you added, “He’s amazing.” Then, hesitating, you glanced at her. “But I can’t really tell you more than that. I promised him I wouldn’t talk about what we’ve been working on.”

Natasha’s expression softened, the smirk fading into something closer to a real smile. “Good,” she said, her tone gentler now. “He needs that. Someone who keeps their promises.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle over you. “I just want him to feel safe.”

“Safe,” Natasha repeated, her smirk returning. She tilted her head slightly, mischief glinting in her gaze. “And how safe do you feel around him? Your cheeks get awfully red when you’re with him.”

Your mouth opened to protest, but she cut you off with a laugh, clearly enjoying herself.

“It’s cute,” she teased, her voice lilting. “The way you look at him. Like he’s the most fascinating thing in the world. And then when he says something unexpected, your face does this little thing—” She mimicked a flustered expression, her grin widening as you groaned.

“Okay, fine,” you said, waving a hand in surrender. “Yes, Bucky is charming. And handsome. And maybe I have a… silly little crush. But that’s all it is. A crush. I’m not here for that, Nat. I’m here to make people see him for who he really is.”

Natasha’s smirk faded as she studied you, her expression turning thoughtful. “And how do you see him?”

The question caught you off guard, but when you answered, your voice was steady. “I see someone who’s kind. Someone who’s trying so hard to be better, even when the world doesn’t give him the chance. Someone who’s funny, and thoughtful, and—” You stopped, shaking your head. “I just want people to see him the way I do.”

For a long moment, Natasha didn’t speak. Then she nodded, her approval subtle but unmistakable.

“He’s changing,” she said softly. “Whether it’s because of you or not, I don’t know. But he’s more open. More… himself.”

Her words sent a warmth through you, though they carried a gravity you couldn’t ignore.

“But,” Natasha added, her tone firm now, “you can’t forget that he’s still struggling. Progress isn’t always a straight line. It’s not going to be easy—for him or for you.”

“I know,” you said quietly. And you did. You saw it in the way his laughter sometimes faltered, in the distant look that would creep into his eyes when something triggered an old memory. But you also saw the way he kept trying, and you were willing to try with him.

“Good,” Natasha said, stepping back toward the door. “Then keep doing what you’re doing. And maybe one day, you’ll figure out what that silly little crush of yours really means.”

Before you could respond, she was gone, her footsteps disappearing down the hall.

You stood there for a moment, her words echoing in your mind as you finished preparing the tea. Two mugs in hand, you headed toward the gym, your heart feeling strangely full.

---

When you entered the gym, Bucky was already there, sitting cross-legged on the floor, his posture unusually relaxed. His hair fell in loose strands over his face, and when he looked up, he gave you one of his rare smiles.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm.

“Hey,” you replied, handing him one of the mugs as you sat down across from him.

As you sipped your tea, the silence between you was easy, comfortable. You found yourself watching him, the way his eyes softened as he stared into his cup, the way his fingers curled around the ceramic as though grounding himself.

“What?” he asked suddenly, catching you off guard.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Just… glad you’re here.”

Bucky tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, his lips curving into the faintest smile.

Maybe Natasha was right. Maybe your feelings for him were something more than a “silly little crush.” But as you sat there, sharing tea and silence with the man who had slowly but surely let you into his world, you realized something else:

Whether or not you could name what you felt didn’t matter.

What mattered was that you were here, together, and that for the first time in a long time, Bucky Barnes seemed to feel at ease.

---

It started like so many of your conversations did—in the gym. The quiet hum of the air conditioning and the faint creak of leather from the equipment filled the space, a subtle backdrop to the measured rhythm of Bucky’s words. It had become a sanctuary for him, a space where his guarded edges softened, where he could breathe without feeling the weight of a world that still didn’t quite know what to make of him.

You’d learned to let the moments flow naturally, to not push or prod. He didn’t need someone to drag his past out of him. He needed someone who would listen when he was ready.

Today, he was ready.

Bucky sat on the bench, his broad shoulders hunched slightly, his vibranium hand resting lightly on his knee. You sat across from him on the floor, cross-legged with your notebook balanced on your lap but largely forgotten. This wasn’t about the notes anymore.

For a while, you talked about little things—the weather, a new bakery you’d heard about, the way the gym smelled faintly of old leather and floor polish. But then, seemingly out of nowhere, his voice softened, and he began.

“My ma,” he said, his gaze distant, his tone almost reverent. “She was the kindest woman I’ve ever known. She had this way of making you feel like… like you were the only thing that mattered when she looked at you. But she didn’t take any crap. If I stepped outta line, she’d give me this look. Just one look, and I’d straighten right up.”

You smiled, leaning in slightly. “She sounds incredible.”

Bucky nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “She was. Strong, too. Had to be. My dad worked long hours. Too long, sometimes. But he always made time for us when he could. Used to take me and my sisters to Coney Island whenever he had a free weekend.”

“Coney Island,” you repeated, grinning. “Let me guess—hot dogs?”

Bucky’s smile widened. “Best in the city. I’d fight anyone who said otherwise.”

“You had sisters?” you asked, your tone light but curious. Of course, you knew this already—your research had told you—but you wanted to hear him talk about them. It was the biggest breakthrough yet, and you weren’t about to let it slip away.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softening even more. “Two of ‘em. Rebecca was the youngest—she was a firecracker. Always getting herself into trouble and talking her way out of it. Could charm her way past anyone. And Winnie…” His smile faded slightly, turning wistful. “She was the serious one. Always felt like she had to keep the rest of us in line. We used to fight like cats and dogs, but… I miss ‘em.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you gave him a moment, letting the silence stretch gently between you. When you spoke again, your voice was soft, careful.

“And Steve?” you asked. “How’d you meet him?”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “Steve… We grew up in the same neighborhood. Scrawniest kid I’d ever seen, but damn, he had guts. Always getting into fights he couldn’t win. I’d end up stepping in, dragging his sorry ass outta trouble more times than I can count. But it didn’t stop him. Stubborn little bastard.”

You laughed at that, the image of a wiry, determined young Steve Rogers standing his ground against impossible odds vivid in your mind. “Sounds like you two were troublemakers.”

“Maybe a little,” Bucky admitted, his smile widening.

“Rumor has it you were a bit of a ladies’ man back then,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky shot you a sidelong glance, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Is that what they say?”

You grinned. “Are they wrong?”

He didn’t answer directly, but the knowing look in his eyes was answer enough. You laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, and it drew a softer smile from him.

“Okay,” you said, leaning forward with genuine curiosity. “What were dates like back then?”

Bucky leaned back slightly, his eyes growing distant as he thought. “Simpler,” he said. “We’d go to the movies—cheap seats, usually. Maybe get ice cream after. And if you really wanted to impress a girl, you’d take her dancing.”

“You danced?” you asked, your tone tinged with playful disbelief.

“I wasn’t much of a dancer,” he admitted with a small shrug. “But it worked. Most of the time.”

You smiled, imagining him in those days, his charm and easy confidence lighting up every room he stepped into. “Sounds romantic,” you said softly.

“Maybe,” he replied, his voice quieter now.

The conversation slowed, a quietness settling over the room, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like standing on the edge of something—like there were more stories waiting, more pieces of him still to be shared.

When he spoke again, his voice was lower, almost hesitant. “I don’t think about those days much anymore.”

“Why not?” you asked gently.

“Because it feels like another life,” he said simply. “Like it happened to someone else. And I’m not sure I deserve to keep those memories.”

The weight of his confession pressed down on you, but you didn’t look away. “You do,” you said firmly. “You deserve every good memory, Bucky. Every single one. They’re yours, and no one—nothing—can take that away from you.”

His gaze flicked to yours, his expression unreadable, but you thought you saw something in his eyes shift. Not quite belief, but the beginning of it.

“Thanks,��� he said finally, his voice rough.

“You’re welcome,” you replied softly.

For the first time in a long time, you saw a glimpse of the man he used to be—the boy from Brooklyn with a quick grin and an unshakable loyalty to those he loved. And for the first time, you thought maybe he saw a piece of that boy in himself, too.

---

The gym felt heavier than usual when you walked in, a tension hanging in the air that made your chest tighten. Bucky sat on the bench, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed on the floor. His metal hand rested on his knee, the faint hum of the vibranium audible in the otherwise silent room.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping closer but leaving a careful distance between you. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, his tone clipped and cold. He still didn’t look at you. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You frowned, setting your notebook down on the floor beside you as you sat across from him. “Bucky, if you don’t want to talk today, we don’t have to. I don’t want to force—”

“Everyone wants something,” he snapped, his voice cutting through your words like a blade. His eyes finally met yours, sharp and filled with a storm you hadn’t seen in weeks. “They want me to talk, to act normal, to live like none of it ever happened. But it did happen. I can’t just forget about the people I killed, the ones I hurt. How the hell am I supposed to move on from that?”

His voice grew louder, more raw with every word, and you felt a pang in your chest at the anguish spilling out of him.

“Bucky—”

“You don’t get it!” he shouted, his fists clenching at his sides. “No one does. You think I can just sit here, smiling and talking about movies, like it’s all fine? Like I’m fine? I’m not!”

His voice cracked on the last word, and before you could respond, his fist slammed into the wall beside your head. The sound reverberated through the room, loud and jarring, but you didn’t flinch. You stayed perfectly still, your breath caught—not because you were afraid, but because of the tears streaming down his face.

“Bucky,” you said softly, your voice trembling under the weight of the moment.

He froze, his hand still pressed against the wall, his shoulders rising and falling with uneven breaths. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean—”

Without thinking, you reached for him, standing to pull him into a tight hug. He stiffened at first, his body like a coiled spring, but then he collapsed against you, his arms falling limply to his sides as his sobs wracked his body.

You slid down to the floor with him, your arms wrapped around his trembling frame. “It’s okay,” you murmured, your hand moving soothingly over his back. “It’s okay. Nothing happened. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible. “I’m so scared, so damn scared that I’ll hurt someone. That I’ll hurt you. And you’ll leave, and I can’t—I can’t handle that.”

Your throat tightened, and tears pricked at your own eyes as you held him closer. “I’m not leaving,” you said firmly. “Even if you kick me out, I’m staying. You hear me? You’re stuck with me, Bucky. I don’t care how messy it gets. I’m not going anywhere. Remember? I’m nosy like that.”

A faint, broken laugh escaped him, muffled against your shoulder. Slowly, his metal arm came up, wrapping around you with surprising gentleness. He buried his face in your shoulder, his breathing uneven but beginning to calm.

The two of you stayed there for a long time, the weight of his pain settling around you like a storm finally breaking. You didn’t say anything more—you just held him, letting him pour out everything he’d been carrying for so long.

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were red and swollen, but there was something quieter in his expression. He looked at you as though searching for cracks, for some sign that you were afraid or pulling away.

You smiled softly. “We’ll figure this out,” you said. “Together.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky nodded. And you knew he believed you.

---

The hum of the elevator seemed louder than usual as it carried you to the common floor of Avengers Tower. Tony had called for you—no, insisted on seeing you—and you couldn’t shake the suspicion that it had something to do with Bucky.

Stepping into the lounge, you found him leaning casually against the counter, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. His gaze flicked to you as soon as you entered, and he didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“Alright, spill,” he said, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Spill what?”

“Don’t play coy,” Tony shot back, gesturing vaguely with his glass. “Something happened with Barnes. He’s been acting… weird. And by weird, I mean less broody than usual, which is frankly unsettling.”

You sighed, the tension in your chest tightening. “Tony, if Bucky wants to talk to you about something, he will. But that’s between him and me.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting. “Between him and you?” he repeated, his voice taking on a sharper edge. “So now you’re the Winter Soldier Whisperer?”

Your jaw clenched, the words stinging more than you expected. “I’m his friend,” you said evenly.

“Are you?” Tony countered, his tone cool but pointed. “Because last time I checked, you were supposed to be writing about him, not playing therapist.”

The accusation hit harder than it should have, but you didn’t flinch. “This isn’t just about writing,” you said, your voice firm. “It’s about helping him. And if you don’t trust me by now, Tony, I don’t know what else to tell you.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as the two of you stared each other down, the weight of unspoken words pressing between you.

Finally, Tony sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fine,” he said, his tone softening. “You’ve proved yourself enough times. Just… don’t let him down. He doesn’t need any more of that.”

“I won’t,” you said quietly but with conviction.

Tony studied you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then, his usual smirk tugged faintly at his lips. “Good. Now get out of here before I start saying something sentimental. Can’t have that getting out.”

A smile flickered across your face, and you turned to leave, your chest lighter than when you’d arrived.

As the elevator doors closed behind you, you couldn’t help but think about what Tony had said. This wasn’t just about writing anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time.

It was about Bucky. About being there for him, no matter what.

---

Later that evening, your apartment was bathed in the warm glow of a single desk lamp. The city’s muffled sounds filtered through the half-open window—honking cars, distant laughter, and the hum of life carrying on outside. Your notebook lay open before you, the first blank page staring back at you like a challenge.

It was time.

You twirled the pen in your fingers, hesitating for a moment. The weight of what you were about to write felt heavier than usual, as though the trust Bucky had placed in you was balancing on the tip of your pen. Taking a deep breath, you began.

Title: James Buchanan Barnes – The Boy from Brooklyn

Before he was a soldier, before he became a shadow in the history books, James Buchanan Barnes was just a boy from Brooklyn.

He grew up in a neighborhood where the buildings leaned too close together, where streets buzzed with life—vendors shouting out their wares, children’s laughter echoing in the alleys, and the distant hiss of trains passing by. Mornings smelled of fresh bread wafting from corner bakeries; evenings carried the smoky tang of burning coal.

Bucky’s family wasn’t wealthy, but they were rich in the ways that mattered. His parents filled their modest apartment with love, loyalty, and a sense of unwavering stability.

As the eldest of three siblings, Bucky took his role as protector seriously, even when it meant teasing his sisters mercilessly. Rebecca, the youngest, was a firecracker—always talking her way into and out of trouble. Winnie, the middle child, was quieter, her serious demeanor often earning her the title of “the responsible one.” But Bucky adored them both fiercely. His sisters would later say he was equal parts troublemaker and guardian, the kind of brother who could make you laugh even as he scolded you for making poor choices.

His father worked long, grueling hours, returning home with hands calloused from years of labor. But he always made time for his children. On weekends, he’d take them to Coney Island, where Bucky would wolf down hot dogs and swear they were the best in the city.

His mother was the cornerstone of their home. She was kind but firm, with a gaze sharp enough to silence even the most defiant child. She taught Bucky how to tie a tie, how to hold a door open, and how to treat people with respect. From her, he learned the quiet strength of standing tall in a world that could often feel like it was trying to knock you down.

It was in that same Brooklyn neighborhood that Bucky met Steve Rogers. Steve was scrawny, sickly, and stubborn—a kid with a lion’s heart trapped in a frame that couldn’t always keep up. The two became fast friends, a duo that seemed inseparable despite their differences.

“He was always picking fights,” Bucky had said once, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t matter that he couldn’t win. He just didn’t know how to back down.”

Where Steve was unwavering in his ideals, Bucky was the one who kept him grounded. And in turn, Steve reminded Bucky of the kind of man he wanted to be—a man who fought not for glory, but because it was right. Together, they became a team. Trouble found them often, but so did moments of quiet triumph—sneaking into a movie theater, sharing a laugh over melting ice cream cones, or walking the long way home just to enjoy the cool Brooklyn nights.

---

The words flowed easier than you’d expected. You didn’t write about the Winter Soldier or the wars he’d fought, the darkness he’d endured. That part would come later. For now, you wanted the world to meet James Buchanan Barnes—the boy who lived, laughed, and loved before the weight of history settled on his shoulders.

---

The next day, you handed the draft to Bucky. Your palms were clammy as you watched him read, the sound of the paper rustling unnervingly loud in the quiet room.

He sat on the edge of the bench, his posture stiff as his eyes moved over the page. His expression gave nothing away, and you found yourself holding your breath.

When he finally looked up, his gaze was searching. “It’s… good,” he said slowly. “Really good. But…” He hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Weird.”

“Weird?” you repeated, tilting your head.

He set the notebook down, his metal fingers tapping lightly against the bench. “Reading about myself like that. Like I’m… normal.”

You smiled softly, leaning forward. “Well, you are normal, Bucky. Or at least as normal as anyone else.”

He chuckled at that, a low, quiet sound that felt like a victory. “Normal, huh? Don’t know if I’ve heard that one before.”

“First time for everything,” you teased gently.

---

Before you left, you handed him a small, carefully wrapped package. He frowned slightly, his gaze flicking from the package to you.

“What’s this?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

“Just something I thought you’d like,” you said, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

He unwrapped it carefully, his movements almost hesitant. When he finally revealed the contents—a set of classic movies on Blu-ray—his brow furrowed, but the softness in his expression betrayed him.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said quietly.

“I wanted to,” you replied simply, your smile shy but sincere.

For a moment, Bucky just stared at you, his blue-gray eyes flicking between you and the gift. Then, to your surprise, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you.

The hug wasn’t born of desperation or pain like the others had been. It was soft, deliberate, and unprompted.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice warm against your ear.

Your heart fluttered as you hugged him back, the solid weight of his arms around you grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. When he finally pulled away, your cheeks burned, but the look on his face made it worth it.

For the first time, you thought maybe Bucky wasn’t just starting to trust you—he was starting to trust himself again, too.

---

That night, the quiet of your apartment felt heavier than usual. The city’s usual soundtrack—distant sirens, muffled music, the occasional rumble of a passing train—faded into the background as you sat cross-legged on your couch. The notebook in your lap was open to a blank page, the pen in your hand poised but unmoving.

The weight of your feelings for Bucky pressed against your chest, a slow, steady ache you couldn’t quite shake. It scared you, how much you cared. How deeply you wanted to see him smile, to see the light in his eyes grow brighter each day. You’d told yourself this was about helping him, about showing the world who he truly was, but somewhere along the way, it had become so much more.

You thought of the way he had laughed at your jokes, the way his face softened when he spoke about his family. The way he’d hugged you that day—not out of desperation, but out of something real, something unspoken.

It didn’t matter if it hurt, you decided. Even if you risked your own heart, even if you never dared to tell him how you felt, it was worth it. Seeing Bucky Barnes slowly come back to life was worth everything.

---

Brooklyn was alive with its usual hum of activity when you met Steve Rogers the next afternoon. The air was crisp, the kind that turned your breath into soft clouds and made your cheeks tingle. The late afternoon sunlight bathed the old brick buildings in a golden glow, the shadows stretching long across the cracked sidewalks.

You stood on the corner, nervously gripping the strap of your bag as you waited. When Steve appeared, his presence was as steadying as you’d hoped. He walked toward you with his familiar purposeful stride, his jacket zipped against the chill, his face carrying that calm resolve that had a way of grounding you.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice warm and low. He offered a small smile as he stopped beside you. “What’s this all about?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding as you turned to look at the house across the street. It was small and worn, its brick facade faded with age. The shutters were hanging slightly crooked, and the front yard was overgrown with weeds. A “FOR SALE” sign stood askew in the yard, weathered and forgotten, as though it had been there far too long.

“Steve,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I found something. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I thought I’d talk to you first.”

His gaze followed yours, his brow furrowing as he took in the sight of the house. His expression shifted, a flicker of recognition softening the lines of his face.

“Is that…” His words trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded. “Bucky’s childhood home.”

For a moment, Steve said nothing. His jaw tightened, his blue eyes fixed on the house as memories seemed to flood him. You could see it in the way his shoulders squared slightly, as though bracing himself against the weight of it.

“I checked,” you continued, your words spilling out quickly to fill the silence. “His sister, Winnie, passed away about four years ago. The house has been on the market ever since, but no one’s bought it. It’s in rough shape—it needs a lot of work—but it’s still standing.”

Steve’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his hands clenching briefly at his sides. “Why are you showing me this?”

You shifted on your feet, suddenly unsure. “I just… I thought maybe it could be something for him. A place to ground him. Something familiar, something that’s his. He doesn’t have much that feels like it belongs to him, and I thought…” You trailed off, your voice faltering.

Steve finally turned to look at you, his blue eyes searching yours. “You really think this could help him?”

“I do,” you said earnestly. “It’s more than a house—it’s a piece of his past, something real. I know it’s falling apart, but it’s his home, Steve. It could be a step toward helping him feel like he belongs somewhere again.”

Steve’s gaze lingered on yours, thoughtful and a little heavy. He turned back to the house, his eyes scanning every worn corner, every crack in the foundation. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll talk to Tony. See if we can figure something out—a loan, or whatever it takes.”

Relief washed over you, and you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Steve glanced at you again, his expression shifting into something quieter, more introspective. “You care about him a lot, don’t you?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to answer. “Of course I do,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “He’s been through so much, and he’s still here. Still trying. I just want him to be happy. To feel like he has a chance at a life.”

Steve tilted his head, studying you closely. “That’s not what I meant,” he said gently.

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced away, a small, almost shy smile tugging at your lips. “It doesn’t matter,” you murmured. “What matters is that he’s okay. That he’s well.”

For a moment, Steve didn’t reply. Then, slowly, he clapped a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm but kind. “You’re good for him,” he said simply.

His words stayed with you as you walked back through the bustling streets of Brooklyn, the hum of the city blending with the thoughts swirling in your mind. You didn’t know what the future held—for Bucky, for you, for the fragile connection growing between you. But you knew one thing with absolute certainty:

You’d do whatever it took to see him smile again, to see him find a piece of peace in the chaos of the world. Because he deserved it. And, selfishly, because you wanted to be there when he did.

---

That evening, the soft glow of your desk lamp cast a warm circle of light over your workspace. Outside, the city hummed with life—a soothing backdrop of distant horns, muffled conversations, and the rhythmic click of your pen against the edge of your notebook.

The second article about Bucky had been surprisingly fun to write, a departure from the heavier pieces you’d drafted before. You wanted this one to show a different side of him—a side that wasn’t defined by war or pain, but by the charm and warmth that still lingered beneath the surface.

---

Title: James Barnes – Brooklyn’s Own Casanova

If you’ve heard whispers about James Buchanan Barnes being a ladies’ man back in his day, let me tell you: they weren’t whispers—they were practically shouts. The legend of Bucky Barnes, the heartthrob of Brooklyn, is as true as it is amusing.

“I didn’t try,” Bucky tells me, a smirk playing on his lips, his tone so casual you almost miss the confidence behind it. “It just… happened.” He shrugs as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

And really, it probably was. A young James Barnes had it all: the looks, the charm, the grin that could disarm you faster than any weapon. But Bucky wasn’t just about turning heads—he was about making connections, about making people feel seen. He wasn’t just a flirt; he was the guy who actually cared.

“So,” I asked him, leaning forward, “what made you such a hit? Was it the hair? The smile? The whole ‘knight in shining armor’ thing you had going on?”

“Maybe the smile,” he said with a chuckle, clearly amused by my curiosity. “And the fact that I didn’t talk much about myself. Women like a good listener.”

There it is, folks. The secret to Bucky Barnes’ success: shutting up and letting the other person shine. Revolutionary, isn’t it?

But let’s talk about dates. Because when Bucky Barnes took a girl out, it wasn’t just a night—it was an experience. “What did dates look like back then?” I asked him, ready to be transported to the days of big band music and soda fountains.

“Well,” Bucky began, leaning back with a distant look in his eyes, “you’d pick her up from her place—on time, always on time. You’d take her to the movies, maybe grab ice cream after. If you really wanted to impress her, you’d go dancing. I wasn’t much of a dancer, but…” He trailed off, a small smile playing on his lips.

“But you pulled it off anyway,” I finished for him, grinning. He just shrugged, not confirming but not denying it either—a true master of mystery.

Bucky’s approach to dating wasn’t about grand gestures or flashy moves. It was about the little things: remembering her favorite flavor of ice cream, pulling her chair out for her, walking her home at the end of the night.

“So you were a gentleman,” I teased, my pen tapping against my notebook.

“Always,” he replied, his smile softening, and for a moment, I could see the man he used to be, unburdened by the weight of the years.

I couldn’t help myself—I had to ask. “Do you ever miss those days?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Things were… simpler. You didn’t have to think so much about how you were being seen. You just… were.”

But while the world may have changed, some things haven’t: Bucky Barnes still has that same charm, that same wit, and that same ability to make you feel like you’re the most important person in the room.

So, what’s the verdict? Is Bucky Barnes still Brooklyn’s Casanova? I’ll let you decide. All I know is that he could probably win over the entire city if he tried.

And between you and me, I’m not sure he even has to try.

---

The next day, you handed the draft to Bucky. You sat across from him, watching as he read, your nerves buzzing quietly beneath your skin.

He finished, setting the notebook down with a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re making me sound like some kinda heartthrob,” he said, shaking his head.

“You weren’t?” you teased, leaning forward with a grin.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and unguarded. “It’s funny, reading about myself like this.”

“Funny good or funny bad?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Just… funny,” he said, his voice lighter than you’d heard in a while.

You couldn’t resist pushing a little further. “I’ve gotta say, I’m kinda curious what it’d be like to go on a date with you. You know, for research purposes.”

Bucky looked at you, his eyes crinkling faintly at the corners as a smile spread across his face. “Maybe one day,” he said quietly, his tone sincere.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, but you managed to play it off with a laugh, shaking your head. “Guess I’ll have to wait and see.”

---

Meanwhile, in the Avengers’ lounge, Steve and Tony were deep in conversation about your discovery of Bucky’s childhood home. Steve’s voice was steady, but you could hear the undercurrent of hope as he laid out the details.

“The house is still there,” Steve said, his hands clasped in front of him. “The porch, the brickwork—it’s rough, but it’s intact. It hasn’t been sold yet. And I think it could mean something to him.”

Tony sipped his drink, his expression skeptical. “You sure he’d even want it? Barnes doesn’t exactly strike me as the nostalgic type.”

Steve nodded slowly. “He wouldn’t, not at first. But if it was his project—his space—it could help. He’s been looking for something, Tony. Something to anchor him.”

Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Alright, fine. I’ll make the arrangements. But it has to be his decision. If he’s not 100% on board, we pull out.”

Steve smiled faintly, his relief palpable. “Agreed. I think he’ll come around. Especially if she’s the one to tell him.”

Tony’s smirk returned, his tone light but teasing. “Ah, our Winter Soldier Whisperer. Why am I not surprised?”

Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. And deep down, he knew Tony was right. If anyone could make Bucky see the value in reclaiming a piece of his past, it was you.

---

You sat in your car outside the gym, the world around you fading into a blur of streetlights and distant sounds. Your hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles ached, but it was the only thing grounding you in the moment.

“Bucky, I found something…” You tried the words aloud, your voice trembling slightly. No, that was too abrupt. “Bucky, there’s something I want to show you…” Still wrong—too vague.

With a frustrated sigh, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against the wheel. You had spent weeks planning this moment, rehearsing it in your head over and over again. But even now, with everything in place, doubt gnawed at the edges of your resolve. What if he thought you’d overstepped? What if this wasn’t what he needed? What if you were about to ruin everything?

Taking a shaky breath, you reached for the apple pie on the passenger seat—a small gesture, something to soften the conversation ahead. You stepped out of the car, the cool evening air biting at your skin as you walked toward the gym, clutching the pie like a lifeline.

---

The gym was quiet, dimly lit, the faint scent of leather and cleaning solution hanging in the air. Bucky was sitting on the bench, his head tilted slightly as he watched you approach. His expression softened when he saw the pie, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile.

“This feels like a bribe,” he said, his tone lighter than you’d expected.

“Maybe it is,” you teased, setting the pie on the bench between you. “But I’m hoping it’ll earn me some goodwill for the questions I have.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned back slightly. “Alright. Fire away.”

You tucked your notebook beside you, deciding this moment was better left unwritten. “Tell me about the house you grew up in,” you began, your voice gentle. “What did it look like?”

For a moment, Bucky’s expression shifted, his gaze growing distant as memories surfaced. “It was small,” he said finally, his voice soft. “Brick on the outside, narrow hallways on the inside. The kind of place where you could hear everything—Ma cooking in the kitchen, my sisters giggling through the walls, no matter how hard they tried to be quiet.” A faint smile touched his lips. “The porch swing creaked every time you sat on it. Dad always said he’d fix it, but he never did. Ma loved it that way, though.”

“What about your room?” you prompted gently, leaning forward.

He huffed a soft laugh. “Not much to it. A bed, a dresser, a desk in the corner. Rebecca used to sneak in during thunderstorms. She’d bring her blanket and curl up by the foot of the bed. I’d pretend to be annoyed, but…” He shrugged. “It felt safe.”

“And the holidays?” you asked, your tone warm.

His smile grew, brighter now. “Ma went all out for Christmas. She’d bake for days—cookies, pies, the works. The house always smelled like cinnamon and sugar. Rebecca and Winnie would string popcorn for the tree. It was messy, but we loved it.”

As he spoke, you watched the tension ease from his shoulders, the weight he always carried seeming a little lighter. His voice held a softness, a warmth you hadn’t heard before, and it made your heart ache in the best way.

When he finished, you hesitated, your hands twisting nervously in your lap. “Bucky,” you began carefully, “can I show you something?”

He raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

“First, promise you won’t get mad,” you said quickly, your voice tinged with nervous laughter.

“That bad, huh?” he teased, though his tone was gentle.

You shook your head. “It’s not bad. I just… I don’t want you to think I overstepped.”

After a moment, he nodded. “Alright. Let’s see it.”

---

The drive to Brooklyn was quiet, the tension in the car thick but not suffocating. You glanced at Bucky occasionally, but his gaze remained fixed on the passing streets, his expression unreadable.

When you pulled up to the house, your stomach twisted in knots. You parked the car, your hands trembling slightly as you turned to him.

“Why are we here?” he asked, his voice cautious.

You gestured toward the house—the faded brick, the crooked shutters, the porch swing that still hung from rusted chains. The “FOR SALE” sign that had once stood in the yard was gone, replaced with a crisp new one that read “JUST SOLD.”

“That’s your house,” you said softly. “Your childhood home.”

Bucky’s entire body seemed to go still. His eyes were locked on the house, his jaw tightening as he took in the sight.

“I found it,” you continued, your words spilling out in a rush. “I was looking for your family, but… there wasn’t anyone left. And then I found this. It hadn’t been sold yet, so Steve and Tony bought it. It’s yours now, Bucky. You can do whatever you want with it—fix it up, sell it, anything. It’s your home.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Bucky didn’t move, didn’t speak. His hands rested on his knees, his knuckles white as he gripped the fabric of his jeans.

“Bucky?” you said hesitantly, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry if—”

Before you could finish, he turned to you, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Without a word, he pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you with a strength that made it hard to breathe—but you didn’t care.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “Thank you.”

Tears blurred your vision as you held him tightly, your own emotions spilling over. The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in the weight of the moment, in the enormity of what it meant.

When he finally pulled back, he brushed a hand through his hair, his gaze returning to the house. “I never thought I’d see it again,” he said quietly. “I figured it was long gone.”

You smiled through your tears, your voice soft but steady. “It’s not perfect, but… it’s still standing. Just like you.”

A shaky laugh escaped him, and he shook his head, glancing at you. “There’s a lot of work to do.”

“Well,” you said with a grin, “I’ve got vacation days to burn, and I’ve been looking for a good project. So if you need a hand…”

He smiled then—a real, genuine smile that made your heart skip. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Taking your hand, he led you toward the house. The front steps creaked under your weight, the familiar sound drawing another soft laugh from Bucky. He didn’t say much as you walked through the door together, but his eyes said everything.

It wasn’t just a house. It was a piece of his past, a foundation for his future.

And for the first time, it felt like he was ready to build on it.

---

When you told your boss you were taking a month off, her reaction was as dramatic as you’d expected.

“A month?” she repeated, lowering her mug of coffee and staring at you like you’d just announced plans to join the circus.

“Yes, a month,” you replied, keeping your voice steady. You’d rehearsed this conversation in your head a dozen times.

She blinked, setting the mug down on her desk with a soft thud. “Are you… okay? You’ve never taken more than a long weekend. What’s this about?”

Your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your bag, but you held her gaze. “It’s personal,” you said finally. “But it’s important. Really important.”

She tilted her head, scrutinizing you with the kind of look that could unearth secrets. “Alright,” she said slowly. “But if you come back and tell me you’re quitting, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you.”

You laughed, though the thought had crossed your mind more than once. “Noted.”

---

When you told Bucky about your month-long leave, his reaction was priceless.

“A month?” he repeated, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Yes, a month,” you said, echoing your earlier conversation with a grin.

He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” you replied, shrugging. “Besides, I figured you could use the help. Just don’t expect miracles—I’m not exactly Bob Vila.”

Bucky chuckled, the sound warm and soft. “Just having you here is enough.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

---

Part 2

[olsenmyolsen]

ok hear me out there is a severe lack of CarolKate fics, maybe Carol trying to prepare/teach Kate how to be a leader of the young avengers but they just end up incessantly teasing each other verbally until Carol gets fed up and puts a very bratty Kate in her place and shows her who’s boss

“oh yeah? make me” and “prove it” and “i bet *you* cant even do that” vibes

Thank you for reaching out! <3. I enjoyed writing this dynamic a lot! Also all of my requests so far have been smut... don't know what that says about you all or me.

Prove It (18+)

master list . maroon master list . dark master list

MCU AU (Kate Bishop X Carol Danvers)

Summary: Carol is training Kate to lead the Young Avengers, but the 23-year-old can't keep her mouth shut.

Word Count: 2K

Content: Sex, Fingering, Petnames Kink, Praise, Oral, Feelings, Pinning, etc

Carol watched as Kate rose up from the black mats in the training room yet again.

Kate was in dire need of some training, specifically hand-to-hand combat if she was going to be one of the leaders of the Young Avengers or whatever the hell Kamala was putting together.

Kamala Khan had talked to Carol about her own band of heroes for the last couple of months, but honestly, Carol put on a smile and tuned the hero from Jersey out most of the time.

"Okay, you got me that time, but that's because I was going easy," Carol smirked at Kate's words. "Oh really? What about the other twenty-nine times?" Kate put on a confident smile. "You wish it was twenty-nine times."

"No, it has been twenty-nine times. I've been keeping count." Kate's face fell. "Oh." Carol put her hands up ready to go again. "Really?" Kate asked, making Carol smile. "Yes. Now, come on, hit me."

"Oh, usually that comes after dinner. And with consent." Carol rolled her eyes as Kate laughed and put her hands up before her, pacing around Carol. The two of them had been going at it for at least an hour and a half, but Kate and her mouth had yet to stop.

Clint told Carol all about how great the archer was. But he warned her that she never stops talking. Like ever.

Carol was beginning to miss Goose and their quiet purrs.

Kate moved closer to Carol but made the mistake of moving her eyes to the point where she would strike—making it easy for Carol to lift her leg and collide with Kate's stomach. The younger woman stumbling back. "Jeez, I thought Clint said you took Karate or something?"

"He talked about me?" Kate ignored the rest of Carol's words. Carol sighed. "Yes, one of the world's greatest archers, but you still can't land a punch without someone hitting you first."

"Okay, ouch." Kate put her hands over her heart and faked being stabbed. Carol stopped moving and waited for Kate and her theatrics to be done.

It took another thirty seconds.

"Okay, kid, let's see if you can't resist telegraphing your moves." Kate made a face at the K word. "Ew, don't call me that." Carol and Kate began to circle one another. Carol looked slightly confused. "What kid? Doesn't Clint call you that?"

Kate lightly shrugged. "Yeah, but he's like a father figure, plus it sounds wrong coming from someone's mouth that isn't as old as him." Carol shook her head and laughed. "You know I'm technically over sixty."

Kate couldn't stop the words flying out of her mouth.

"Not with a body like that."

Carol stopped moving. Kate stopped moving. "Oh god. She's going to kill me." The Bishop girl whispered under her breath.

After a beat of silence, a glowing smirk grew on Carol's face. She had a new angle. "I see," Carol said, dragging her feet along the mat, slowly moving again. Kate stumbled before she also started moving. Afraid of what Carol would say and do.

"You're attracted to me."

Kate's mouth dropped. "No- I mean, yes, you're attractive, but no, I'm not- to you."

A blind man would be attracted to Carol Danvers.

Carol squinted. "You sure about that, honey?" Kate's eyes went wide as she gulped. Carol was having fun now. "Go back to calling me kid," Kate demanded, but Carol laughed. "Why are you afraid I'm bringing up some mommy issues?"

Kate exhaled. She needed to try and get the upper hand again. "And what if you are?" She replied. Carol shrugged after a second. "Then quit being a brat about it."

Kate's body grew warmer.

She licked her lips and opened her mouth. A little squeak came out before her words. "Well, maybe I just need to be put in my place." Carol raised an eyebrow and bit her bottom lip. "You got that right, sweetie." Kate's brain almost died, but luckily for her, she had the threat of Carol charging at her to worry about.

So she put her one leg back and planted her foot before lifting her other one to hit Carol, but the blonde was fast. She grabbed onto Kate's leg and dragged it down as she slid underneath Kate and her blue eyes.

Kate's face and then body hit the mat. Yes, in that order.

"Oh, Mommy's sorry," Carol said in a fake voice with a pout. Tingles surround Kate but she turned over onto her back and meet Carol's eyes. "You can't do that!"

"Do what?" Carol tilted her head with a smile. Kate huffed. She didn't know what she was yelling about. Either Carol grabbing her and pulling her to the floor or the nicknames.

"Like I said, Momm-" "Stop that!" Kate yelled from the floor. Carol took steps towards Kate until her body was over the younger woman's. Carol crouched over Kate. "Oh, you want me to stop?" Carol's voice switched from her fake, almost pornographic tone to her real one. "Let me guess, it's turning you on?"

A little frustrated, Kate lifted up and pushed Carol, making the blonde quickly shoot up and use her powers to catch herself from falling.

"Oh, okay." Carol took the hit and news well. Kate was red in the cheeks because of embarrassment, fear, and because Carol was right. The blonde crossed her arms over her white tank top. "You want me to stop treating you like the brat you are?"

Kate rose to her feet. Hands in front of her. "I'm twenty-three, not a fucking brat."

"Not with that attitude." Carol barked back. The training slowly works its way to the front of her mind again. On the battlefield, you couldn't waste a second having an attitude like this.

Kate was silent. "Okay. You want me to stop, baby?" Kate nodded. "Yes." Carol nodded and removed her arms from in front of her chest. "Oh yeah? Make me. Take me to the mat."

Kate let out a quiet sigh. Her body and mind were fighting for control, but she raised her hands and knew she needed to beat Carol.

"Atta girl." Carol winked in a sultry voice that made Kate clench her jaw and move towards Carol with a greater quickness than Carol had seen all day. Except Kate was still Kate and stumbled as she took a comprehensive step to the right, forcing her to launch forward into Carol.

But Carol was observing and moved her body to take the impact softer. Catching Kate.

Who then stepped on Carol's foot.

So technically, Kate did take Carol to the mat.

Kate landed on top of Carol as Carol wrapped her arms around the younger woman. The impact made a grunt slip from Carol's lips to Kate's ears. Quickly, Kate lifted her upper half off of Carol, and Carol's hands fell from Kate's back to her hips.

They stayed there as Kate looked over Carol's face. "Well, technically, you did what I asked," Carol smirked. "Y-yeah, I did." Kate stumbled as she felt Carol's rough hands squeeze her hips. "The problem is... I don't think this little slip-up means you're ready to lead a team."

Kate refrained from rolling her eyes—something Carol noticed.

"Oh yeah?" Kate whispered as she spread her legs wider on either side of Carol's. Carol nodded. "Yeah. Your attitude is still there, too." Kate moved her hands to Carol's and pulled them away from her body. She placed them onto the mat as her hands slid to Carol's wrist. Her body hanging over the blonde's. "I think you like it."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Kate couldn't win. "A leader takes control, Kate." Carol gently said into the space between the two. Carol was giving Kate an opportunity. Kate slowly leaned forward until her lips hung inches away from Carol's. She looked through her eyes to see Carol's blue ones telling her she wanted it.

Kate wrapped her hand around Carol's wrist and placed her lips onto Carol's. The older woman became intoxicated from one taste of Kate Bishop. Her soft pink tasted like lavender against Carol's.

The blonde could smell the body lotion Kate used in the morning. Kate could smell and taste the chapstick Carol loved.

As the two were becoming lost in one another, Kate began to grind her hips into Carol's—the friction causing a much-needed release of pleasure as Kate moaned into Carol's mouth.

Carol nodded and moaned as Kate's lips moved to her neck. Quickly, Carol lifted her arms up and wrapped them around her. Touching and feeling her skin.

Carol's hands burned with desire against Kate.

"Oh fuck, baby!" Carol moaned when Kate began sucking on Carol's chest.

Carol moved her hands down to Kate's sides again. She squeezed and slipped her hands underneath the seam of Kate's shorts. Kate moaned as Carol lifted her head to kiss Kate's chest. At the same time, Carol's left hand moved through Kate's untrimmed hairs. "You feel so good!" Carol groaned as Kate nodded with squeaks. "Oh fuck, Carol!" Kate cried out as Carol's middle finger ran over the wet spot Kate had.

Carol lifted her body with her powers and took Kate into her arm as she placed Kate gently onto her back. Her lips still attacking the you get woman's chest. Her middle finger was still pressing against Kate's covered wet pussy. "Oh, Mom-"

Kate stopped herself, but Carol heard it. She pulled her hand out of Kate's shorts and brought it to Kate's mouth. "Open." Kate hesitated. "I'm giving you orders, Kate." Carol reaffirmed with a commanding voice. "That's it. Be good for Mommy." Carol watched as Kate's mouth dropped, and slowly, Carol's finger disappeared as Kate's mouth wrapped around it.

"Keep sucking. Do you taste yourself?" Kate nodded with a muffled moan.

Carol was making her feel a way no one else had.

Carol, with a smirk, pulled down the sides of Kate's shorts as Kate helped kick them off.

"You're doing so well, aren't you, baby? Being good for your Captain! Your leader!" Carol husked as she spread apart Kate's legs. Her lips dragging up the other woman's soft thighs. "Oh, Kate." Carol leaned down and kissed the wet spot of Kate's black cotton underwear. With Kate's hand around Carol's wrist, she kept sucking and licking Carol's fingers until Carol pulled them out. Drool coating the younger woman's chest as Carol brought those same fingers to Kate's clothed pussy.

"You're so pretty," Carol said before pulling the black panties to the side. "Fuck Carol, you're so hot!" Kate whined. Carol loved hearing Kate come unglued.

"Oh, just touch me. Please!" Kate cried out. Her fingers ran through the blonde's short hair until she reached the back of Carol's head and pushed it closer to her wet clit. Carol gave in with a smile. "There you go, Kate. Command me!"

Carol was still making this a teaching lesson, and it drove Kate crazy.

"Just shut up!" Kate responded, turned into a loud moan as Carol's tongue hit the bottom of her spread pussy and worked its way to the top of Kate's clit. Flicking the hood before she slipped her middle finger up and worked it in a circular motion.

Even through the workout leading to this moment, Carol couldn't get enough of Kate.

And Kate was in pure ecstasy as Carol ate her out and finger fucked her better than she had ever had at college.

"Oh fuck! Oh, Carol! I'm about to cum!" Kate lifted her head from the black mat and arched her back. "That's not my name, sweetheart!" Carol replied as she spit on her hand and slipped it through Kate's wet pussy lips before returning to her clit.

And Kate knew what Carol wanted to be called, but it was too late as her legs began to shake and she started cumming.

Carol kissed up Kate's body as she came down from her high. Carol knew she would be too exhausted to do anything to her, but she was okay with it.

"I have to say..." Kate started as her breathing slowed. "That might've been the best training I've ever done." Carol laughed as her body hung above Kate's. "Is that right?" Carol asked.

Kate nodded. "Although I'm not sure if anything will stick."

"Oh?" Carol raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. I mean, if I want to be a leader, I have to learn from the best."

Carol went to open her mouth. Kate interrupted her thought. "From the best who's still around." Carol closed her mouth and smiled. "I'll make something out of you yet, Bishop," Carol whispered before she leaned down and softly kissed Kate. "You still need to prove it to me."

"Oh, I will." Kate kissed her again. "I will."

dividers by @/benkeibear

[milehighmegs]

Fabulous Fanfic Promo!!!

Ok, so. Back in October, when my Good Omens hyperfixation was at its peak, I found my way over to AO3, in need of some good fluffy smut. Interestingly enough, it wasn't on a recommendation from fellow Ineffables, nor from an AO3 search, that I found what has become my favorite A&C human AU fanfic. It was from a Pinterest post I saw a while back, and suddenly remembered, that brought me to @klikandtuna's writings. The tumblr-post-turned-Pin suggested Zira as a boarding school headmaster and Crowley as a rock-star-turned-music-teacher at the boarding school. In the comments, people were saying how someone should write a fic based on it, and lo & behold, klik did!

I found 'Find The Light' and devoured it in a single day. I didn't even wait to read 'Every Damn Day,' which was followed quickly by 'Sky Clear Blue.' Reaching the end was sad, but klik had a surprise for us: a Xmas gift in the form of a three-fold crossover!!! 'Find Every Sky' is being released one chapter per day for the next week, with two chapters already out, and I am LOVING it. Give it a look, but DO read the other three first if you haven't yet. They're great stories on their own, but this crossover is like watching 'The Avengers' after seeing 'Iron Man,' 'Hulk,' 'Thor,' and 'The First Avenger'- it all comes together so beautifully, and is already greater than the sum of its parts!

Shoutout to @suzypfonne, the badass beta who helped klik bring these stories to life!!!

[ozwriterchick]

Back to Us - Chapter 4

Summary: Y/n wakes after an accident to her Avengers team-mates. But something isn't quite right and only Steve and Tony can see it.

Characters/Relationships: Steve Rogers x Reader; Tony Stark; Natasha Romanoff; Other Avengers Characters

Content warnings: Mentions of an accident (no details yet); If I missed any, let me know

A/N: If you want to be tagged, let me know.

Not beta'd so any mistakes are my own. I don't write smut, but there are allusions to smut in my stories.

Back to Us Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Word count: 1347 (approx.)

Some time later, you are both laying there, a tangle of limbs, your head on his chest with his hand lightly stroking up and down your arm, totally satiated.

“Well, Cap, that was…” you began.

“Good? I hope..” he replied.

“It might take me some time to get my head around the fact I just slept with Captain America, but yeah, very good.  Now, I’m going to go take a shower and then get something to eat.  Care to join?” you smiled at him.

“Shower or eating?” he queried.

“Up to you Rogers.” You raise your eyebrows, shooting him a lascivious look as you move into the adjoining bathroom.

He follows you with his own smile on his face.  “Much as I’d love to join you in there Y/n, I think I’ll head to the kitchen and start getting some food ready for you.”

“Ok” you say “but you’re missing out.” You say as you walk away, swinging your hips and looking at him over your shoulder.

“Plenty of time Buttercup, plenty of time”

As you watch him leave the bathroom, you can’t quite work out what’s gotten into you, or him for that matter.  This isn’t something you would normally do, and it’s not really something you ever anticipated Steve doing either.

You and Cap had never even so much as had dinner together, without the others being there.  And that nickname, it’s the name of a character in your favourite movie, The Princess Bride.  Maybe it meant nothing but again, you weren’t sure. 

Half an hour later, you are showered, re-dressed and headed to the kitchen on your floor.  You don’t see Steve in the kitchen, and you can’t smell anything cooking.

“Rogers?  Are you there?” you enquired.  “Hello… Anyone.. Bueller.. Bueller??” you laugh at your own joke.

“Hey Y/n” Nat came into the kitchen.  “Steve had to go out, he said to apologise but something came up.  He asked me to make you something to eat, but there wasn’t much so I just made this PB&J sandwich, I hope that’s ok?  Tony has dinner being delivered later, so we’ll get to eat something good then.”

“Oh, hi Nat.  Steve went out?  I guess he had something better to do.” You weren’t sure why this hurt, except that you’d just had sex with him and before you’d even finished showering he was out of here.  He probably regretted it and didn’t know how to face you. 

Did you regret it, you pondered.  It was great sex, unarguably the best you’d ever experienced, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t regret it later.  You will have to think on it.

At that moment, Tony entered the room “Hey Y/n, I thought you were going to sleep the whole day away.” He gives you a wink and you’re not sure if that means he knows what you and Steve did.

“Just having something to eat Tony.  Nat made me this amazing PB&J and I don’t think I’ve ever had anything as good in my mouth.”

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, another wink.

“Well food-wise of course.  That hospital food can leave a lot to be desired.  I reckon they make it bad so you don’t stay too long.” You laughed hesitantly.

Tony & Nat laugh with you and you all go your separate ways.

Later that evening you get dressed to go down for dinner.  You still haven’t seen Steve since the events of earlier in the day and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.  Sure he had to go out because ‘something came up’ but you’d hoped he’d be back before now and you thought he’d want to come and at least say hi and apologise in person for ditching you earlier.

When you arrived in the dining room, you noted that everyone else was already there, seated around the table.  The only spare seat was next to Steve so you took a deep breath and sat down.

“Hey everyone, I’m so glad to be home and I want to thank you all for being so amazing while I was in hospital and so far since I’ve been back.  I know I’ve got some gaps here and there, I’m still not sure how much time I’m missing” you notice that they all glance at each other when you said that “but I’m sure you all will continue to be amazing and I’m keen to get back to training and missions with all of you.”

Everyone settles into comfortable conversations around the table, enjoying the lavish dinner Tony has provided as a celebration of you coming home.

You had lively conversations with Tony on one side of you, Bruce opposite and Nat who was sitting next to him.  Tony winked at you a couple more times, which had you double take.

You can’t help feeling a nervous vibe coming from Steve, maybe he also feels like Tony knows what happened.

Under your breath you say to Steve “I think Tony’s onto us.  He made a few remarks earlier about me sleeping all day and he winked at me.  Twice!”

“He knows,” Steve said almost nonchalantly.  “I told him.”

“You told him” you whisper yelled at him.  “Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed that he knows.  Does everyone know?”

“Well, I only told Tony, I can’t say if he told anyone else.” He says.

You surreptitiously survey the table before realising that nobody seems to be concerned over you whispered conversation with Steve, or making any indications that they know about your little tryst, so you relax a little.

After dinner you make your excuses and head back to your room, tired from more activity than you’ve done in many days.

After you brushed your teeth and changed into your pyjamas, you get the feeling you’re not alone and you hope it’s Steve.  Looking up you see Tony in the doorway.

“Hey kid, how are you feeling, for real?” he asks.

“I’m so tired.  I still feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, but things are not as sore as they were, so that’s good.  To be honest though, I get the feeling there’s something I’m not being told and it’s scaring me Tony.”

“I’m not sure what you mean Y/n – there’s a bit of a gap in your memory, the doctor told you that.  So you know everything we know.  He also said we shouldn’t force the memories, they have to come back naturally.  Just make sure you don’t let anyone force memories on you.”

You think about what he said, thinking that it’s a code for something and you wonder if he’s referring to you and Steve.

“Listen Tony, Steve told me he told you what happened between us, is that one of the memories I’m missing?”

“Why do you ask that?” Tony asked.

“Well, without getting into the down & dirty” you start. “When he held me and kissed me, there was something almost primally familiar about it.  But I’ve never even so much as had dinner alone with him so I don’t get it.”

“Me either Y/n” Tony hoped he sounded sincere enough that you’d buy it.  “I came up to let you know that Brue has a flashback program he’s been developing.  I know the Doc said we shouldn’t force it but, think about it.  Maybe it will start things coming back to you.”

“Thanks Tony, I’ll think about it.  I might even chat to Bruce to see what it’s all about before I make a decision.”

“Good idea Y/n, sweet dreams.  Tomorrow is a new day.”

“You too Tony.  Oh, Tony..?”

“Yeah kid?” Tony replied.

“How big is the gap in my memory?  Nobody’s told me exactly and I don’t know if I should be searching for days or weeks.  Or longer?”

“Oh kid,” Tony began “I don’t know if it will help knowing that”. He kisses you on the top of your head and leaves the room before you can question him any further.

You sink into a restless sleep with dreams of you and Cap.

Tag List: @wolfbeanpotion @vioplay19 @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @crazyunsexycool @zaraomarrogers @bitchy-bi-trash

[bookishtheaterlover7]

Katherine’s horny thought was sent to you: 💌

Now share something short but smutty with this promt:

“Where have you been, sweetheart? I’ve been waiting for you.”

[No pressure bby.] 🤍

Sweetheart

a/n: Hey, Kat, and fellow Readers!!! So sorry this took so long, it's been an intense couple of weeks... School has just started, and I'm already feeling the pressure. But, I'm happy to have written this for us. It calmed me down, and gives me great pleasure (innuendo not intended 😆) to know that I am capable, and getting better at writing dirty smut 🤭

Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this, as much as I enjoyed writing it. ❤️

Requested: Yes

WARNINGS!!! Talk of sex life, Steve being Steve, Dom!Captain!Steve, some possessiveness, some rough handling, major cursing, name calling (Y/n is called slut a couple of times), Smut with a plot, talks about sex and trusting your partner, MAJOR CUTENESS at the end.

DNI Divider by @firefly-graphics

Enjoy!

It all started when Steve caught the end of your conversation with Nat.

"And honestly, I wouldn't mind if things got a little heated, in a certain way with Steve." He heard you say.

"I mean it wouldn't be too hard. He's Steve..." You trailed off, the swoon clear in your voice.

Sometime later, you'd be sitting in the comfiest corner of your room, when Steve, flushed and barely able to catch his breath, bursts into your room. Talking a mile, a minute.

"Okay, Doll. I've been thinking. And you're right. Our sex life should be exciting. So, sometime soon, I'm going to do something that you won't expect. We cool? Okay, talk soon!" He finished before hurriedly giving you a quick kiss, and rushing out of your door. Leaving you more confused, than anything.

A few days later, Nat and Wanda had taken you out on a Girl's Night. It had become kind of a tradition for the ladies of the Avengers (including Pepper). Especially on days when either missions got too much, your S/O had left you at a loss, or just to decompress from life in general.

"So, basically if Tony is going to pester me about that paperwork one more time, Pepper is going to give him hell." Nat laughed, hands steady on the wheel of the car on the ride back to the Compound.

"Shame Pep couldn't make it." Wanda sighed, resting her head against her hand, with her elbow resting against the passenger side door.

"Having Morgan with us wouldn't have been too bad." She added.

"Everything we do is basically PG-13 anyway. Like Y/n's sex life..." Nat trailed off, the playful teasing tone at the end of her sentence evident in her voice.

"It's almost been a week, and still nothing?" Wanda asked, turning her attention to you, sitting in the backseat of the car.

"Nope. And he's been acting strange, all week!" You sighed, exasperated.

"Ever since he came bursting into my room, talking about how, I was right about our sex life needing a little more spice, and that he's got just the thing. But only when I least expect it." You huffed.

"I don't know... I know, I said that I wouldn't mind that we add more spice, but that doesn't mean that we have to. Being with him is more than enough." You said, eyes shining.

"Maybe you should tell him that, Y/N/N." Nat replied, reassuringly.

"Even Super Soldiers need a little assurance, every now and again..." She smiled, knowingly.

Wanda reached for your hand to give some more comfort, and the tension was lifted from your shoulders, almost like she used her skills to help you.

With your mind at ease, you were more than determined to assure Steve.

It wasn't long before you arrived at the compound, and separated yourself from your girls to head up to your floor. But when you got off of elevator, something was amiss.

Your floor's lighting was suspiciously dim. And it had you cautiously approaching your room. Which you were successful, until you shut your door.

"Where have you been, Sweetheart? I've been waiting for you." A gruff voice said from within the space, making you jump right out of your skin.

In a panic, you went to grab the handle but it wouldn't budge, FRIDAY had locked you in!

"I-I'm sorry. We were caught in traffic... I don't have control over that, Steve." You gasped, as your boyfriend's form prowled towards you, before pinning you to the door. So, close to you that every breath you took, caused your chest to brush against his.

"You think I don't know what you've been out doing all night, slut?" He hissed into your ear, pulling you flush against him, one hand teasingly rubbing up and down your hips and ass.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Steve..." You trembled, unsure how to act or feel, but undeniably feeling the unmistakable sensation of slick building up between your legs. Steve's complete change in persona had its desired effect on you.

"Oh, don't play coy with me, Darling... A little bird told me how you played and danced with all those men, while you were out." He smirked against your cheek, after placing a tantalizing kiss on it.

"Did you forget that your Captain is waiting for you at home? Desperate to feel you, practically melt in my hands? Are you that desperate to have something in you, that you'd deny him his right?" Steve said, intense lust-blown eyes boring into your soul.

"No, Captain. I'm only desperate for you." You cried, needing friction between your thighs, sooner rather than later.

"Prove it." He growled, before pinning you to your door, one arm holding you up against it, the other hand shoved between your legs. Spreading your walls around his thick digits, cause you to moan loudly.

"I see. My girl, is more than desperate for her Captain... You're practically dripping, My Dear..." He sighed, looking at your ruined center. His expert fingers rubbing and brushing up against your walls and clit.

"Oh... Captain, please..." You gasped, the pleasure building and building, desperate for release.

"Are you desperate for your Captain?" Steve smirked, his lips mere inches away from your own.

"YES! I FUCKING AM!" You cried out, every sensation turning more and more intense, and you haven't been allowed to come yet.

"Then come..." Steve said in a low voice, causing you to release it all, with a wail, as his lips came crashing down onto yours to swallow every cry.

He pulled away to kiss, and suck on your sweet-spot. Wanting to mark you all over, but also, as a way to ground you, and bring you back down from your high.

"Are you alright?" He asked, looking right at you. His eyes wide and gleaming, ever so soft for you.

"Y-Yes... I'm fine, just need a sec." You breathed, unable to believe what just happened.

"Do you want me to stop?" Steve asked, softly.

"No. God, no!" You exclaimed, gripping his shirt by the front and pulling him for a messy kiss.

"Take me to bed, Captain." You sighed, before he ripped your shirt in two, and carried you with one arm to your bed, where you shared another messy kiss once more. A promise of the long night that was to come.

You both finished with a roar, Steve tenderly kissing you, allowing you both to calm down, from your climaxes. He gently pulled out and rolled off of you. Walking into your En Suite to wash himself off, and prepare your bath.

He came back a few minutes later, gently picking you up, bridal style into your shower. Where he allowed you to lean on him, shaky legs unable to keep you upright for more than a few seconds.

His hands, gentle and warm, massaging your shampoo into your hair, lathering soap all over your body, and especially on your most intimate parts. You have never felt safer, or more loved than in that very moment in Steve's arms.

Once he had given your exhausted body a final rinse, he grabbed your fluffy towel, wiped you dry, wrapped you up in it, before taking you back to the bed where, he had a shirt all ready for you to wear. Although, you definitely noticed that he hadn't brought out your own pair of underwear, instead had his own loose boxers for himself.

Steve asked if it was okay with you to wear his shirt. You agreed, as he slipped it over your head, and around your body, the gesture just as intimate as anything you've done that night with Steve.

He carefully laid you on a carefully arranged pile of pillows, and went to put on his shorts, before joining you in bed, gathering you up in his arms, and snuggling into you. Knowing that this is probably your favorite part after sex.

Rubbing your head softly, you let out a contented sigh, before pulling back slightly to look up at him, determination in your eyes.

"Steve, what was this? I-I mean, you said you'd do something to spice things up, and that I'll never expect this. And I definitely did not expect to be dominated by my Captain. But this is definitely out of the blue, what's the matter?" You asked, your face full of concern as you lovingly cupped his cheek.

"You said that you wouldn't mind if things heated up between us. And I wanted to prove that we can do more than just the regular old making love." Steve sighed. Gone was the strong facade he put up, in its place, the young boy from Brooklyn.

"I did, Steve. But I don't want you to escalate to a place you're not comfortable with." You smiled, using your hand to keep his eyes on you.

"Sex isn't just about love, or getting relief from some sexual tension, it's about communication, and telling your partner, what it is you do or don't like. And that means, taking baby steps if you want to live things up in the bedroom." You said, with a smile.

"So, I could just tell you what I want to try, and you can do the same. And it'll be alright?" Steve asked.

"Yes, Honey. We communicate, and find out together what works or what doesn't. It's about you and me. I trust you, full-heartedly, Steve. Do you trust me, too?" You asked in earnest.

"I do, Doll. I really do, you make me feel complete, and I feel safe enough with you, that I feel like I can ask, and you wouldn't judge me for it." He grinned, his smile getting bigger and bigger.

"Good. Because that means we can try bondage next time." You laughed, half jokingly.

"Slow down, Sweetheart..." Steve laughed, pulling you closer to him. Both of you, happy to have moved up a step in your relationship, and content in the safety the other provided.

Hope that this was a good one!

Until next time!

❤️ Booky

Taglist: @nescavaneck @jiyascepter @royalwriteroftheuniverse @femefetalelevelingup

[yelenasdiary]

For Flufftober 🤭

It's Kate's and Readers first Halloween together as a couple. The two spend the whole day at home handing out candy for the trick or treaters. Kate is the one who is handing out the candy while Reader bakes some cookies and other stuff for the Avengers Halloween party that they're going to at night. The two dress up in a couples costume (you can pick whichever one you want) before they head to the avengers compound.

-🌊 (I know it's not much but this is all I got 🙈)

Trick or Treat

Pairing:  Kate Bishop x GN! Reader

Summary:  You and Kate spend your first Halloween together.

Warnings:  Smut implied? But other than that, none | 1.7K

AC: I hope you enjoy this! Thank you for requesting it, it was so fun to write! x

October Special Masterlist

Halloween, a spooky day for all small and tall. Kate, your girlfriend, had spent the night at your small townhouse home and of course she had brought Lucky. Kate turned your house into a nicely decorated house that screamed your name all over it into something that Claire from Modern Family would most definitely approve of. It was your first Halloween together and she had invited you to join her at the Avenger's compound later tonight for a Halloween party that Wanda and Nat had planned out, mostly Wanda of course. 

Kate secretly loved that you lived in a family orientated neighborhood, given that her apartment was on top of a pizzeria, she doesn't get any excited children knocking on her door trick or treating. A large pumpkin shaped plastic bowl sat on the dresser by the front door, overflowing with candy and treat sized chocolate bars for Kate to hand out while you baked some Halloween themed cookies and cupcakes for the party later on. 

"Look at you Lucky!" you smiled widely as he sat at your feet, tail wagging while wearing a horse saddle costume finished with a fake wig, Kate entered the kitchen in a red wig with a single plait hanging off her shoulder topped with a red cowgirl hat. 

"Yodel-ay-hee-hoo!" Kate says with a put-on country accent while swirling a lasso, "You found Woody! Good job Bullseye!" she added. You couldn't help but chuckle at how adorable the cowgirl was, "I bet you've been waiting all month to say that" you replied.

"You bet ya!" Kate placed her lasso on the countertop and gently pulled you in for a kiss. Since Kate went a teeny bit overload with the Halloween decorations, she suggested that you, Lucky and her dress up a little more child friendly when she noticed just how many younger children lived in your neighborhood and who doesn't love Toy Story right?

With Lucky dressed as Bullseye, you as Woody and Kate as Jessie, it was almost criminal not to get as many photos together as possible. Kate didn't only have a great eye when it came to her archery but also when it came to her photography. She set up her digital camera in front of a blue back drop and set the timer for 10 seconds. The three of you posed for a few photos before Kate heard the doorbell ring, her first trick or treater for the day!

"Twick or Tweet!" A small child no older than 4 smiled with his candy bag open wide, he was dressed as Miguel from Disney's Coco. "Happy Halloween little dude!!" Kate smiled as she kindly put 3 pieces of candy into his little bag. "Thank you!" He waved before he turned to walk back towards his parents who waited protectively at the end of the walkway, they smiled at Kate before she closed the door. 

"Looks like you've got the door covered, I'll get a start on the cookies" you gave Kate a little tilt of your cowboy hat before making your way to the kitchen. 

Every few minutes the doorbell would ring through the house and Kate would answer it with Lucky sitting beside her feet. The kids said the iconic line before they noticed that Lucky was also dressed up, he got plenty of pats and Kate even showed them a trick that she had taught him recently. Lucky would carefully pick up 2 pieces of candy from the bowl and place it in the kids candy stash. 

"Bishop! Get your fingers away from the icing mixture!" you scolded as you took the try of freshly baked gooey chocolate chip cookies, placing the on the countertop for cooling before putting a second tray into the oven.

"I didn't even do anything!" Kate lied, licking the tip of her index finger. You turned and shook your head at her, "you can help decorate them when their ready and after, you can eat the left-over icing" you offered before you made a start on making cupcake mixture. 

Kate was just about to distract you by wrapping her arms around you from behind when the doorbell rang again, and she was out of the kitchen faster than you could blink. It wasn't long before she was back, hovering around you waiting for a spare moment to capture your lips in a kiss. 

Once the cupcake mixture was made, you began to pour some into the cupcake cups. Kate grabbed a teaspoon as you did so and scraped some mixture out of the bowl before quickly dabbing some of it on the tip of your nose. She chuckled proudly before leaving the spoon clean of mixture while you shook your head playfully at her and placed the bowl on the countertop, "come here" you looked up at her. You dipped your finger into the mixture and waited for Kate to come closer before you wiped it on her left cheek. 

"Don't waste it!!" Kate joked as she dipped her finger into the mix and wiped a strip of mixture from your forehead, over your nose and to your lips. "Says you!" you raised a brow only to be shushed by Kate kissing you deeply, "well" you smiled against her lips, "I guess if you do that again it'll make up for it" you added. 

Kate didn't hesitate to kiss you once more, the taste of red valet cupcake mixture on her lips reminded you of the slight mess that she had just made on your face. Another ring of the doorbell broke your kiss but seeing the excitement on Kate's face every time the doorbell rang was enough to keep you from giving her a pout.

----

"Baby, we're gonna be late!" you call out as you look at the time on your phone. The cookies and cupcakes were decorated and ready to take over to the compound in Tupperware. Kate and you had changed costumes, Kate called this one Murders Ken & Barbie. "I'm ready!" Kate walked out of your bedroom in a black suit with a pink undershirt paired with some black shoes, her hair tied back with some loose strands rounding her face, fake blood markings on her face and neck added to the murder look.

"Babe, you're drooling" Kate chuckled as you were stunned at how great your girlfriend looked. You wore Barbie's iconic pink and white gingham dress with a couple of steams of fake blood to add to the effect. "I'm sorry, but god damn it!" you replied. Kate pulled you closer to her, "Thank you Barbie, you look rather dashing yourself!" she spoke, softly smiling at you. 

"Do we really have to do to this party?" you asked, your mind racing with other ideas. Kate caught on quickly to your train of thought and lightly bit her bottom lip, "and miss this chance to show you off? I don't think so" she replied before kissing you softly, "besides, you've got all night to get me out of this suit" she added with a wink.

Taglist: @red1culous | @bentleywolf29 | @kiwiana145  | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz | @mmmmokdok |  @wackymcstupid | @kiwiana145  | @valiantmugcowboyscissors | @observeowl | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @musicinourlips | @apollo2907 | @marvelfan98 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight | @santana1437 | @fluffyblanketgecko | @inluvwithfictionalwomen | @jaymieflorissssssss | @tita001 | @youralphawolf72 | @natashamaximoff69 | @a-dorkier-book-keeper | @hehehehannahthings | @blue-serendipityy | @secrettoallofyou | @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss | @marvel-fan-2021 | @mmmmokdok | @riveramorylunar | @ripofflizzie | @scarsw1fe | @toldthatdevil | @itsmv3 | @katiemay-025 | @boredandneedfanfics | @wandamaximoffspuppup | @xox-little-troublemaker-xox | @music-4ever | 

[holylulusworld]

Looking for some recommendations by you or your kind followers 🥰

Steve or Bucky mafia / mob or abo series

And Henry Cavill series (I've fallen into a big rabbit hole of lusting over that man lol)

I've read all of your stories so much Lulu, like Consolidation Bride is like my number 1 series. I reread it often sometimes when I walk my dog or when I'm moody and on my period😂.

Hi lovely. Aw, I'm happy someone loves Consolation Bride as much as I do. I'm tempted to write a sequel, I just don't know when.

Let's see, I will list the blogs coming to my mind in random order. I hope I don't forget half of the people I follow...

I highly recommend @angrythingstarlight's blog for Mafia AUs. She has wonderful Mafia AUs for Bucky.

@navybrat817 has great stories for Bucky & Steve & Henry's characters. Check her Bucky list for Mafia stories.

@kinanabinks has an awesome Mafia Bucky x Best Friend (fairy) series. You can find it here: MOB!BUCKY MASTERLIST

@jtargaryen18 has a wonderful Mafia Steve / arranged marriage story called His Inheritance (ongoing). I got it on my reading list.

@sinner-as-saint has all your little heart desires, including mafia AUs, A/B/O and so much more.

@biteofcherry has great a/b/o & mafia stories for Steve. I think some are dark, so check the warnings for triggers.

@smutsonian has this mafia Steve I just discovered and need to read.

@buckyalpine has a story called pretty little thing with Mob Bucky. It's on my reading list.

You are looking for Henry & his roles? Fear not. Look at @littlefreya's blog. Here's her "stories" masterlist. There is a drabbles masterlist in her bio too.

Do you need more Henry? Here you go: @viking-raider will help you out.

@waiting4inspiration has an Alpha Bucky series.

These are the ones coming to my mind atm. If anyone has stories for nonnie to read, please feel free to add them to his post. 😊

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 45 – FAKE RELATIONSHIP

AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: 27dragons

27dragons writes some of my favorite Winteriron dynamics, period. Both Bucky's and Tony's voices are perfect, and they're such dorks in love that it makes my heart melt every time. Since I especially love their fake relationship fics, I decided to rec them here, but honestly, you should just check out their entire AO3 catalogue, everything on there is fantastic.

Here's some of their work that I think you should check out:

Freedom in These Bonds

Pairing: Bucky/Tony Rating: E Words: 18,314 Tags: A/B/O, Arranged Marriage, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting

Summary: Tony’s been accepted to M.I.T., which only admits a small percentage of omegas each year. He can’t wait to get there, to stretch his intellect and broaden his horizons. There’s only one small wrinkle: omega students have to be married.

Reasons why I love it: Aaaah, this one is so good! Bucky is such a green flag all around, and I was constantly awwwing throughout the whole bonding ceremony and everything that comes after. Plus, the smut is hot as hell. This fic is amazing, and you should definitely read it!

Brideprice

Pairing: Bucky/Tony Rating: E Words: 31,974 Tags: Post-Apocalyptic, Arranged Marriage, Canon-typical Violence

Summary: An event known only as the Sundering destroyed civilization as it had been known. Now, several hundred years later, humans have banded together in tribes that war over resources and scramble for ways to deal with the occasionally-deadly mutations that the Sundering left in its wake. The Avengers thought they would be the next victims of the Hydra tribe’s steady expansion and subjugation, but instead, Hydra approached them with an offer of alliance, including a bride for Tony, the Avengers’ second-in-command, to symbolize the union of the two tribes. But neither Tony’s bride nor the alliance turn out to be what the Avengers were hoping for.

Reasons why I love it: Aside from the fake marriage – which is superb in and of itself – I really love the worldbuilding in this one. All of the lore surrounding the Sundering is super intriguing, and the way that 27dragons plays with Marvel canon here is so much fun. It's really well-paced, and the characterizations are on point. I love this one, and I really hope you check it out for yourself!

Don't Be a Disaster (Be Mine)

Pairing: Bucky/Tony Rating: T Words: 5,318 Tags: No Powers AU, Coming Out, Getting Together

Summary: Unexpectedly, Tony is alone for the holidays. He hates being alone, but surely his genius brain will come up with something. Bucky can deal with the stress of having lost his arm, or the stress of remaining in the closet with his family, but not both. And only one of those things is in his control. But coming out to them when he doesn't even have a boyfriend is nervewracking, to say the least. A chance meeting on the subway may solve both of their problems... and give them both a gift they weren't even looking for.

Reasons why I love it: Christmas with the Barnes' sounds so cozy! I love Tony's characterization here, Bucky absolutely stood no chance against his charms. And the way they meet is hilarious, I enjoyed every second of it. This fic is wonderful, and you should definitely read it!

Can't Talk (Like Real Adults)

Pairing: Bucky/Tony Rating: E Words: 30,264 Tags: Marriage Pact, No Powers AU, Idiots in Love

Summary: Bucky and Steve made a pact when they were young, that if they were both still single when they were thirty, they’d marry each other. Bucky could think of a lot of worse things than being married to his best friend. They already live together, the tax benefits would be pretty awesome, and he could stop worrying about growing old alone. That is, until he met Tony Stark. Yes, that Tony Stark. Rich, gorgeous, smart, fun, great in bed, and... actually interested in Bucky? Tony didn’t really do dating. It was too depressing to waste his time with borderline stalkers, fortune hunters, people just crossing off their bucket lists, and worse. He’d pretty much resigned himself to a lifetime of one-night stands. And then he met Bucky. Hot, nerdy, relaxed, and utterly nonchalant about the whole “Tony Stark” package in an extremely appealing way. There was just one problem: Bucky was engaged to someone else.

Reasons why I love it: Oh my god, this fic gave me everything I could ever want in a fic. They're both such fucking dumbasses – Bucky more so than Tony, but still – and I love every second of the drama. Also, the intimate scenes are just incredible, 27dragons and tisfan write these two idiots so well. Definitely check this one out, I bet you'll love it just as much as I do!

If Only in My Dreams

Pairing: Bucky/Tony Rating: E Words: 16,954 Tags: A/B/O, Mutual Pining, Christmas

Summary: Despite presenting late, Tony's father never had any doubt that Tony would follow in his footsteps and be an Alpha. So it is with more than mild dismay that Tony finally presents shortly before exams... as an Omega. Now he's got to go home for the holidays to fend off his parents' outdated notions, including his father's attempts to arrange a Bond for him. Bucky's had a crush on Tony since they first met, more than a year ago, but he keeps finding excuses not to express his interest. When Tony admits that he's looking for an Alpha to bring home to pretend to be courting him, Bucky volunteers before he can really think about what he's doing. But it's only for a few days. Everything will be fine.

Reasons why I love it: Oh man, I really feel Bucky in this one. If I saw anyone living in the kind of family dynamic Tony is living here, I'd want to take them far away too. Thank god for Ana and Jarvis! I love how Tony's relationship with Howard especially is explored here, and Bucky's reaction to everything is fantastic. Plus, the Winteriron Christmas fluff is so sweet, it makes up for all of the family angst. I love this one, and I bet you will too, so I hope you give it a shot!

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

For the 3000 celebration can you write one with Pietro Maximoff and prompt 25

Maybe it’s set at like Halloween and Pietro dresses up as a cowboy so the prompt makes sense

.⋆｡Musketeer And The Cowboy｡⋆.

Pietro Maximoff x plus size reader

Halloween brings out the worst in all of us

Warnings: implied smut, fluff, drinking, the Avengers being the Avengers

WC: 885

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

3000 Follower Celebration

Tony found any and all reasons to throw a party. Fourth of July, New Years, Thanksgiving, even fucking Arbour day got a celebration that included luxury foods and so much alcohol that even thinking about it gave you a hangover.

But by far his Halloween bashes were the most mind blowing. He went all out, even going so far as to turn part of the tower into a truly frightening haunted house. The halls were filled with hyper-realistic decorations and people with extravagant costumes.

You found it fun, it was pretty much like a kid’s party on steroids. You gorged yourself on candy while getting drunk with your favourite people in the world while you all pretended to be someone or something else, in the case of Clint’s famous candy corn costume, for the evening.

This year, you had a group costume with Wanda and Natasha: sexy three Musketeers. With a truly scandalous amount of skin showing beneath a corset, stockings, killer red heels, a frilly collar, huge hat and a fake sword, you truly felt the role. 

You and the girls strolled into the huge ballroom absolutely on top of the world. Immediately, Wanda was pulled away by Vision and onto the dance floor while Natasha made a b-line for the bar, leaving you with a red lipstick stain on your cheek and a wink. 

But you weren’t phased, instead you happily strolled over to the small gathering of some of the older Avengers, gunning for the flask Thor always carried at parties. “Good morrow sirs, perchance you have a nip of ale for me.” You laid the old English accent on thick as you planted yourself by Steve who was dressed as a zombie businessman. He rolled his eyes and handed you his spiked beer. 

“Thank you, my good man.” Thor (who was a playboy bunny this year) beamed at you. You sipped the stronger than normal beer and nodded at the rest of the men in the group. “We have some mixed effort here- Bucky looks like he gave up but Sam, you look great!” Sam, in a very elaborate Dracula 

costume, turned to Bucky, who wore Steve’s Captain America uniform.

“See! I told you that you looked stupid!” Bucky’s left eye twitched.

“No you told me that no one dresses up for Halloween anymore so I shouldn’t bother with a costume.” He grumbled, arms folding dangerously over his chest. You giggled and handed the beer back to your surrogate brother.

“Has anyone seen Pietro? He wanted to do the haunted house with me.” Steve shrugged.

“He wasn’t here when I got here but he may be trying to spar with Hulk, again.” You glanced over to where Tony (Patrick Bateman) and Bruce (Doctor Frankenstein) were drinking in a quiet corner with Peter (Han Solo), most likely chatting about their little science projects. But there was no silver-haired man with them.

“Hmm.” You hummed, resting a hand on the hilt of your fake blade. “I’ll go for a wander and see if I can find him. Oh and Bucky, the suit looks good on you.” Immediately, the super soldier perked up and a smirk crossed his face.

“Thank you.” He smugly responded while grinning at Sam who just rolled his eyes. Satisfied with the chaos you released about to unfold, you journeyed back into the crowd on the search for your boyfriend. 

There were cheerleaders, werewolves, some cheap Avengers costumes, but there was no speedster. After you passed what seemed to be the 20th Black Widow, a flash of silver caught your attention.

Pietro was leaning against a column just outside the party, his bright blue eyes fixed firmly on your generous curves. He was fully decked out in scuffed jeans held up by a thick belt with a gun holster, a leather vest with a red plaid shirt, an expensive pair of cowboy boots and a large Stetson in his hands. As he caught your eye, he flipped the hat perfectly onto his head while smoothly placing a fake cigarette between his teeth with his other hand.

“Well howdy there little lady.” He drawled with an awful attempt at a southern accent. 

“Hi there cowboy.” You purred, heels clacking on the expensive flooring as you approached. “I’ve never seen a cowboy without a lasso.” You gestured to his belt where an empty clip hung on his thigh. Pietro smirked deviously.

He grabbed you by the hips as you got close enough, tugging you into his chest. “I think you’ll find zat my lasso is somewhere more convenient.” His hands slipped down to your ass, grabbing the soft flesh beneath the tiny skirt you wore. He rolled his hips into your plush stomach, letting you feel his growing bulge.

“And where is that?” You played along, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your fingers in his silver hair.

Pietro lowered his face to your ear, gently biting the lobe before whispering, “You vill have to play along to find out.” He then pulled away from your body. “Come, ve have much to do tonight.”

He took your hand in his own and pulled you into the hall. “It is time for a ride.” He winked, tipping his hat to you. You broke out in a wide smile.

God you loved Halloween.

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@lokiandbuckysdoll @andreasworlsboring101 @pretty-npeach @luvvvjada @cakesandtom @elizabethmidnight2017 @beautyb1ade @bitchy-bi-trash @mewlingoizys @queer_poncho @everything-is-awesomesauce @hc-geralt-23

[emberenchanted]

For Keeps (3/3)

Pairing: Dark!Carol Danvers x Female Reader

Summary: Carol sees you. Carol wants you. Carol gets what she wants. 

Series Warnings: extremely dubious consent, strap ons (r receiving), sex (oral, vaginal), anal fingering, Dom!Carol, orgasm denial, spanking, violence (not really towards reader), manipulation, forced relationship, rough sex

18+ ONLY

Link to Chapter 1

Link to Chapter 2

A/N: Ok party people, we've reached the end of this short tale. There really isn't much plot here, it's mostly smut 😅. This fic is my first time writing smut so hope it isn't terrible. Thanks to everyone who read, liked, commented, and reblogged! Let me know what you think about this chapter. I really appreciate the support and motivation.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Chapter 3

When you wake up the next morning, it is to serious regret and a text from Carol telling you that she’d pick you up at 6:30pm that night. You make one last effort to get out of the date and text back that you aren’t feeling well. Carol responds and says that if you aren’t feeling well, she’ll just come over and take care of you until you’re better. 

The response makes your stomach drop. You shudder to imagine how domineering Carol would be alone, in a private space that has a lock. She already forces every interaction into the outcome she desires in public. If she managed to get into your studio, you would be at her mercy, and after the way she’d finger fucked you against the alley wall before you could get a word in, you were sure you wouldn’t get her out of your apartment before she got what she wanted, which was most likely you in bed with her. You definitely weren’t ready for that yet, if you’d ever be. No, much better to go out. 

Hours later, after considering the contents of your closet, you settle on a black knee length bodycon dress with long sleeves and chunky black boots. You style your hair into an updo, and add chunky gold hoop earrings; a bit of concealer (to cover the marks Carol had left on your neck the night before), and a swipe of lip gloss complete your look. You don’t want Carol to see where you live so you decide that you’ll head down to the bar around 6:25pm and meet her there. You’re already nervous, so when you’re ready by 6pm you decide to indulge in one glass of wine to settle your nerves. It definitely can’t hurt, right?

At 6:20pm, Carol walks up the steps to your apartment, which is right over the bar. If she’d known last night that her baby lived just upstairs, she could have dragged you there during her break and made your first time riding her fingers much more comfortable. Though to be fair, if she had known, you might not have made it back for the rest of your shift. Oh, well. That’s what she gets for not having complete information. She won’t let that happen again. Carol intends to find out all the important bits about her baby’s life tonight, so simple slip ups like that don’t happen anymore.  

After spending her morning “talking” to some of the other business owners who have recently missed their monthly payments, Carol is feeling relaxed and eager. Situations where she got to flex her physical...skills always got her blood up, and she was ready to show her baby a great time. The concerning information Carol’d received from three of the people she visited could be handled tomorrow. Apparently, all of them had also been told there’d be a change in payment method and none of the dumb fucks had double checked before paying in cash at that bench. She needed to talk to Steve about how to move forward and he wasn’t an early riser. If things went according to plan, she wouldn’t make it back to the Avengers’ headquarters from her date until mid-morning tomorrow. 

She bounds up the last two steps before quickly walking to your door. Carol knocks two times before taking a step back. When you open the door, Carol is absolutely thrilled. You look fucking delicious and Carol can’t wait to eat her little baby alive. Your soft breasts are perched high in a tight black v-neck dress, and the smooth expanse of skin from your neck to dressline is flawless. Whatever you'd applied made your skin gleam and shimmer in the light. It's all Carol can do to not hook her finger into the neckline of your dress and tug to see if your pretty little nipples shine in the same way. You look surprised to see her and Carol uses your temporary shock to crowd you, pressing her body to yours and lifting her hand to stroke your cheek gently. “You look incredible, baby,” Carol husks out, dropping a soft kiss on your shiny supple lips. 

“Oh.” The little sound of surprise pops out of you before you can help it. When you take a step back, Carol takes that moment to step around and into your apartment. 

Carol slowly takes in the small two room apartment. It was rather cramped and a bit dingy, but you obviously take good care of your belongings. Old bookcases line the walls and sink under the weight of fat, squat books. An obviously used green velvet couch takes up most of the open floor space and a TV on a chipped wood table stands across from the couch. But multiple small clusters of flowers in mason jars are perched on several surfaces, brightening the space. And in the kitchen, directly behind the couch, several bright prints and images are hung. 

Carol was proud of you for making it on your own this far. She knew how many young girls struggled, but you had found a job and place to live in a new city without any family support or connections. Her baby was hard working and industrious. Thankfully, you wouldn't need to do that anymore. Carol would be taking care of all that for you soon enough. Carol was just happy that through your obvious struggles you'd remained innocent and pliable. Watching you stammer and flush when Carol gave you her full attention was exquisite and it made her eager to command that submissive spirit in the bedroom. You would be so fucking pretty whining and squirming under Carol in bed with a sore and tender ass. 

After Carol had seen her fill of the apartment, she turned to face you once more. Stepping close, Carol slid a hand up and down your arm. “Your apartment is so cute, baby. I wish I’d known you lived so close. I would have come over sooner.”

You shudder at the thought. “Ready to head out?,” you ask hurriedly.

By the time Carol slips into the booth seat next to you at the restaurant, you’ve calmed just a bit. While she’s been just as handsy at the show and on the way there, she’s also been charming. Being with Carol was like being on a rollercoaster. The breakneck pace she pushes things along makes your stomach churn and drop, but it also makes you excited and breathless. As with a roller coaster you’re pretty sure you’ll make it off alive, but there’s always the chance that you’ll slip past the safety restraints and tumble to your end. It was exciting and scary. Carol was exciting and scary.

The restaurant Carol has chosen is quiet and dimly lit. Floor to ceiling brick walls enclosed several small tables situated around the room. A few booths were also tucked against the back wall creating private enclaves. Each table is topped with a burning white candle. After you’d both ordered, Carol begins asking about your life. Where you grew up, familial relationships, your past romantic partners, what you liked to do in your free time, your favorite places in the city (so far); everything was fair game. There was a part of you that wanted to hold back, not to divulge everything about yourself, but another little part of you was flattered. You’d never had someone so interested in hearing about you. Of course, Carol might not have had a completely altruistic motive, but she did seem genuinely interested. After finishing your main course, Carol’s hand gently touches your knee, pushing the fabric of your dress up your leg and swirling patterns into the ticklish skin there. It's hard to believe that this was the same woman who’d brutalized Mel. But, you try to remind yourself that it was. 

Carol seems to be in a good mood, and she’d said at the beginning of your dinner that she wanted to know everything about you. That went both ways, right? You thought you should also be able to ask her about her life. If this was going to be a...relationship, there had to be some give and take. 

You take a deep breath and ask, “Carol, can I ask you a question?”

She squeezes your knee, “Anything, baby.”

Your question comes out quietly. “Do you hurt people, like you hurt Mel, often?”

Carol turns her body to you, meeting your eyes and she takes a beat before answering. “You want to know more about my work?”

You nod. 

“I fix problems,” she begins. “Almost any problem. I do that all over the country and all over the world. And there are different...methods for fixing problems. It’s my job to identify the most expeditious method for resolving any issue I’ve been hired to fix. People pay me a lot of money to do that well.” Her hand slides up your thigh and kneads. “What happened with Mel was unfortunate, and I’m so sorry if I scared you, but you'll get used to it.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest. That was not what you were hoping to hear. And you definitely didn’t think you’d get used to it. You look into her eyes and see what looks like affection there as you brace yourself to ask another question. “Would you ever hurt me like that?”

She chuckles softly. “I would never hurt you in the same way that I hurt Mel.” The tightness in your chest releases just a bit. “But I do have certain expectations of you, baby, and I will enforce boundaries with and for you. But never that harshly.” she rushes to finish. Your heart continues to beat a rapid rhythm against your ribs as you take in her words. You’d known that Carol had certain proclivities after your previous interactions with her, but to hear it stated so plainly was something different. You simply didn't want that kind of relationship. One with rules and punishments. You are even more sure you'll have to find some way to end things with Carol before they go any further. At that moment, the waitress clears the table, sets down your dessert and heads back to the kitchen. 

The hand gently stroking the inside of your thigh creeps up a bit higher, tickling delicate skin. You move to shift away from her, uncertain of how you're feeling at the moment and hoping for a bit of time to think. But as you begin to close your thighs, Carol gives the inside of your leg a sharp pinch. “One of those expectations is that you do as I request, and another is that you don’t move when I’m touching you--or about to touch you--unless I give you permission. Ok, baby?” 

You nod slowly and Carol nods back at you. “Now why don’t you just lean back and relax, sweetheart? This will feel good. I promise.” Carol was blocking you inside the booth so you couldn’t get out without making a scene. You rest your back fully against the back of the bench and close your eyes. 

“Look at me while I’m touching you,” Carol murmurs against your ear. You drop your head to the seat behind you and roll your head to face her, eyes fluttering at the sensations coursing through your body at her gentle stroking. 

“Carol,” you sigh.

Another pinch. “Ma'am!,” you quickly correct. “Ma'am, we’re in public. Someone might see.” 

“Don’t worry,” Carol purrs. “Nobody is going to see you. Nobody gets to see you like this but me, ok?”

You murmur affirmatively and give yourself over to the pleasure she’s inciting in you. Her slender fingers find your panty covered core and stroke over your damp slit. Her gentle caresses send fissures of pleasure shooting through you and you whimper softly. Carol hums approvingly. Her fingers pull your panties to one side and she slides one solitary finger inside your slick warmth to the second knuckle. Your body twists at the sensation, and you try to slide further down the bench to get her finger further inside you.  Carol laughs gently as she thrusts her finger in and out. In and out. It’s not enough. “More, please, ma'am” you sigh breathily. 

Carol chuckles. 

“My baby needs a little more? Do you want to come?,” Carol queries.

You nod frantically. “Do you want to come here at the table or back at home?” Your mind races. You really don’t want to lose control at the restaurant despite Carol’s assurances that nobody will see you. But, you also don’t want her in your home. As you ponder, Carol pushes her finger deeper inside you and the slick sensation makes you gasp. “Home!”

Carol pulls her finger out before slipping it in her mouth to suck gently. “Hmm, delicious,” she intones. Carol stands up quickly and strides over to the waitress, credit card in hand as you try to gather yourself and your senses. She’s back before you know it, quickly packing up your dessert into small takeout containers, and grabbing your hand to drag you out the booth.  

Just as you’d suspected, Carol was just as forceful in bed. She’d essentially dragged you to her apartment (or at least where she was staying while in the city), before pouncing on you. Her apartment was modern, but understated, largely empty of decoration. Her hands dragged, unzipped, and shifted until you were left in only your underwear. 

She pushes you into her room and onto her large bed before climbing on top of you. Her lips meet yours and her tongue strokes the inside of your mouth sensuously. She sucks and nips sharply at your lips before slowly making her way down your jawline to your neck. As her lips travel to your clavicle, Carol slips one hand underneath you to press your back into an arch. Her other deftly unclasps your bra before  tossing it aside. Her teeth gently scrape at your skin before moving to your nipples. Latching on, she gives you a hard suck, immediately laving the skin with her tongue with small strokes to soothe the now aching bud. She continues to suck on first one nipple, then the other until both are sore and puffy and you are whining and squirming underneath her. Seemingly inspired by your strained noises, her teeth continue worrying the taut bud of one breast as her fingers slip into your panties and begin to rub your clit.

She releases you with a soft, wet pop as her fingers continue exploring, first one, then two of her fingers pushing all the way into your tight hole and making you moan incoherently. “This little pussy is perfection, baby, I can’t wait to fuck you,” Carol rumbles, mouth still against your breast.   

”Wait,” you bleat out. 

Carol rises to her knees and smacks your pussy hard. “Ouch,” you shout. 

"No, baby. I’m not waiting anymore. I was supposed to get to fuck you on our last date, but you stood me up. You've been teasing me long enough. Now get undressed and get on your hands and knees." 

Carol pauses her words to cock her head and pin you with a hard gaze when she notices you aren't moving. "Now, baby," she says harshly while reaching over to give your thigh a hard pinch. You yelp at the blooming pain, then take a few deep breaths and resign yourself to what was about to happen. Your heart pounded in your chest at how fast, again, Carol was getting her way. You felt so overwhelmed and helpless that you couldn't stop the tears that filled your eyes and threatened to spill over your lower lids. Hands shaking, you removed your simple white lace underwear and began moving to your hands and knees.

Satisfied that you were following directions sufficiently (though you were still moving too slow in Carol's opinion, --something she would let slide tonight but would train out of you soon enough) Carol reaches over to open her bedside drawer and pulls out an intimidating strap on. Your movements pause as you catch sight of her maneuvering it onto her body, and your eyes widen in fear. It's as thick as your wrist, frighteningly long, and has a wicked curve. Thinking of that splitting you open makes you sob. But Carol is having none of it. With herself situated, she turns her attention back to you. She manhandles you into her desired position, ignoring your breathless pleas to pause for a moment. 

Your eyes are glued in fear to her linen duvet as you feel the fat head of her huge cock run through your slippery folds, stopping to nudge at your clit before continuing back up to your hole. Carol rests her hands on the flare between your waist and hips, before tightening her grip and starting to push into you. 

You moan pathetically as you feel the head of her cock pop into you. Even this first inch is a stretch and you know there's a lot more coming. Carol gives you no reprieve as she continues sliding into you, splitting you open at a slow but steady pace. Your cunt flutters frantically around the invading cock, trying desperately to create space where there previously was none. When you're sure you can't take any more, you begin to whine and try to move away. Carol tuts softly before giving your ass a sharp smack, and leans over to murmur in your ear. "I told you not to ever move away from me when I'm touching you." Her words send shivers down your spine.

With that, she tightens her grip on your hips, before lifting you and giving you a rough tug back, impaling you with the last few inches of her cock. You sob into the sheets at the pain coursing through you. Carol threads the fingers of one hand into your hair, yanking back to ensure you can no longer move away from her. "Gotta keep you nice and close, baby. " You shudder as Carol's free hand begins to explore your body while she gives you a few slow but deep experimental thrusts. Though you still haven't adjusted to the fullness of your cunt, Carol begins to increase the pace, drawing heat and an intense pleasure to your belly. Her touch is everywhere -- sliding over your shoulders, rubbing and twisting at your nipples until you sob, tickling down your back to rub over your ass, pinching your inner thighs before moving them apart, forcing your back into a deeper arch and making the heavy cock inside you slide that much deeper. 

You're barely holding on. Carol is everywhere and there is only Carol. Since you'd  met, Carol had been pushing every interaction and every conversation the way she wanted it to go. There was no room for disobedience, no room for hesitation at one of her many orders, and no room for negotiation. Everything has to be Carol's way, and you'd seen the potential consequences firsthand. That first night you'd seen the violence she'd casually doled out, and hadn't ever wanted that to be you. Now you were wishing for a few simple broken bones. This was so much more violating. 

Her cock is rubbing against every inch of you, making you feel stretched to the limits. As much as this hurts, it brings an equal amount of pleasure. Your body hums at the intensity of Carol fucking you. Every nerve ending is alight and you can feel the beginning of that coil tightening in your gut. You feel sick, and scared. You're sick at your body's enthusiastic response to Carol's rough handling. You can hear the slick, wet noises you make each time she thrusts into your raw and battered pussy. But you're too scared of the immediate punishment to try to resist or adjust your body to make yourself a bit more comfortable. So just as you begin to let your mind wander from this place and try to relax into the pleasure and ignore the pain, Carol removes the hand that's been roaming your body. The sudden lack of sensation gets your attention. 

She gives your hair another yank, twisting your head so you're awkwardly looking at her. She looks...depraved, but beautiful. Her piercing eyes take in every expression on your face and flick from the bouncing of your tits, to the cock disappearing inside of you and back to your face at a rapid pace. When a particularly rough thrust forces the curve of the cock into your g-spot and you part your lips to yowl at the ecstasy she shoves her pointer and middle fingers into your mouth and tells you to suck. You know better than to disobey. You suckle at her fingers as they rub over your tongue, reaching further back until they press into the back of your mouth. As you choke on the intrusion, and Carol continues to rub at your tongue as you gag, her eyes light up in glee, and you worry about the plans she might have for your mouth. You don't think you can take the hefty cock down your throat if Carol demanded it, but you know you'd have to try. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to escape the intensity of Carol's gaze and put that potential nightmare out of your mind, but Carol gives your hair a sharp tug before demanding you "look at me."

When you do, she finally-- blessedly-- pulls her fingers from your mouth. They're covered in your saliva and a small string of spit connects her fingers to your lips. She murmurs that she wishes she were close enough to lick the drop of saliva off your lips, and you can't help but be thankful she isn't. You don't think you can take much more of this. More of Carol everywhere. 

But you've never been lucky, and just as you begin to relax again you feel a light stroking pressure at the opening of your tight puckered hole. 

You start and your mind begins to race as you feel her spit slick finger begin to press into you, stretching your ass open in an insistent burn. 

"You ever let anyone fuck you here?" Carol asks. You gather your wits about you before she has to repeat her question. "No, ma'am" you mutter out in a broken moan. 

"Good," Carol responds. "I'm going to be the last person in this tight little pussy and the first and last in this little asshole." She sounds pleased.  Despite knowing the uselessness of trying, you plead for her to stop, to give you a short break. She hushes you gently, more gentle than she had been, as her finger slips deeper into you and she murmurs "Both holes baby. Gotta get you used to this. I'm not going to fuck you here with my cock tonight but it's happening soon so we've gotta get you trained. Wouldn't want to hurt you." 

Carol removes her hand from your hair and uses it to brace your hip in place as you wail and try to buck at the intrusion.

"Ah ah ah, baby. Hold still. One more,” she murmurs as she pushes in a second slender finger. “You can do it. There you go. All done. You don't move unless I tell you to, remember baby?" Your fingers scramble for purchase in Carol's sheets as you pant. You thought you'd been full before. You thought Carol had violated you as much as possible but you should have known she'd find another way to possess you. You cry into the sheets before feeling Carol smack your ass twice and dig her fingers into your hip making you yelp sharply.

"I asked you a question, baby. Answer me."

You sob out a miserable "yes, ma'am." Satisfied with your response, Carol begins to alternate thrusting into your ass and pussy, both pushing deeper into you than you thought possible. Your body quivers at the push and pull of her inside you and her free hand is back to roaming over your body. After twisting at your sore nipples her hand coasts over the soft skin of your belly to your slippery folds. She begins to rub gently at your clit. Light teasing touches that send you hurdling toward an orgasm but aren't quite enough to send you over the edge. 

You hear Carol's smooth voice behind you "are you close, baby? I can feel you squeezing my fingers and can see that sweet little cunt of yours fluttering around my cock." 

You nod, before remembering to answer affirmatively verbally. Desperate to ease just a bit of your discomfort, you shift forward a tiny bit, resting more heavily on your arms and slightly relieving the pressure of Carol's cock pressing against your cervix and the deep press of her fingers in your ass. 

Carol didn't have to-- she could tell you were trying so hard to be a good girl for her--but this time she just wanted to. She smacked your already sore ass cheek hard three times for forgetting to answer her verbally. Carol knew she would enjoy seeing the bruises tomorrow as much she was enjoying putting them there tonight. Carol slips her free arm under your stomach and drags you back toward her, more than making up for any marginal ground you may have gained in your attempt to adjust and mounting you more firmly on her cock and fingers.

You whimper and stop moving, simply shuddering and moaning in time with Carol's thrusts.

Her fingers return to your clit, rubbing and pinching until your body is tight with tension, ready to snap and tumble into the orgasm she's been building you towards. Carol's fingers quicken their pace, drawing small tight circles over your bud as you feel your cunt tightening and the coil inside you snaps. Carol continues her thrusts, more forceful now to get past your quivering flesh. Your body shivers and shudders as the pleasure courses through you, made all the more intense by Carol's continued movements. She forces you right through this climax and violently into another. All the while you hear her voice saying how happy she is that you're together now, and that she can't wait to do this everyday. 

You're overstimulated; sore and tired. Carol slows her thrusts before pulling her fingers and cock out of you. Your body sags in relief. She removes her strap and positions herself at the head of the bed. She grabs you from your prone position and pushes you down until your head rests between her legs. Hands weave back into your hair, and she pushes your face into her slippery wet cunt, telling you to lick. You're exhausted and horrified and scared, but you lick her gently- running your tongue up and down her slit, suckling at her clit as she moans. She grabs your head in both hands and continues to maneuver you as she pleases. 

Later, after Carol comes on your tongue twice, you lay curled in her bed, shocked and softly crying. She returns from the bathroom and sits in bed beside you, stroking your hair and back. Though you know better than to question her, you simply can't process that this might be your new reality.

Occasionally Carol slips her fingers over your chest to rub and twist at your sore tits. After a while, she leans over to whisper in your ear. "You cry so pretty baby, but I only want to see you cry on my cock. So if you keep crying, I'll put you there."

A wave of horror runs through you as Carol gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek before sliding into bed behind you and tugging you close into the cocoon of her body. You wipe your tears on her pillow and pray for sleep to take you.

[smolvenger]

hiii could you please write a one-shot with loki where the reader is curvy/plus sized. they are starks adopted child and feeling down bc of anxiety/stress of academics and feeling as if no one can love them, and loki is comforting them bc they secretly have a crush on the fierce reader, no smut but lots of fluff pleaseee

Hi there! Sorry for the Wait, but here it is! I am not plus-sized myself so special shout out to @muddyorbsblr advising me how to write it realistically and for the vibe checks!

My Goddess (Loki x curvy/plus-sized fem! reader oneshot)

Word Count: 2K

Summary: Amidst the pressures of school and your personal insecurities, you never expect your crush on the god of Mischief to be reciprocated...

Warnings: insecurity and school stuff and mentions of sex, but no smut. Some light angst and fluff!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @fandxmslxt69

You didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. There was so much. When you gathered your things to go back home for fall break, half the things you brought were textbooks. There were essays and tests. You thought you would have a break from your classes. Apparently, in schools, there were only ever truly breaks on three occasions. Winter, Summer, and Death.  And you had no time. Classes consumed your time so much. Then all those assignments. You wanted so badly to get them done. At least you had mornings when you just woke up and couldn’t sleep. You tossed about, unable to drift off. The cafe would see you and already prepared the espresso you were about to order after a night of little to no sleep. And whenever you got back after a long day of classes, you had nothing except those assignments to do. You had no energy. But you did them anyway. 

Even at the airport, you saw couples holding hands and smiling. Maybe, in your fantasies it could be you and…and…no. Don’t get carried away. You’re just not meant for romance, Y/N. It’s hard but it’s the truth. Just focus on school and you won’t be disappointed.

Once you walked out, suitcase and carry-on in tow, there stood your dad. He smiled brightly, the sunlight bouncing off his bright glasses from the limo.

“Well, how is the hangover and chlamydia?” he wished.

“Hi Dad,” you replied with a smile. Mr. Stark was known for being a huge smartass, but you couldn’t have wished for another.

Your mom stepped out at once and gave you a big hug. Then all of you gathered inside and took the slow drive back home.

“We’re having a party tomorrow night, you are more than welcome to join!” your mom said, wiping a strand of red hair out of her face.

“Oh-is there an occasion?” you asked.

“Just because!” she replied. “Let me show you the invites we sent-they’re very pretty. I found this new stationary and I’m obsessed with it!”

She handed you an envelope and opened it to show one, but to her surprise, it was dark green. There was gold lettering that read.

“YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO A GATHERING OF THE AVENGERS TO CELEBRATE AND WORSHIP THE GREAT, HANDSOMEST, MOST CHARMING AND POWERFUL GOD IN THE NINE REALMS L-”

Your mother snatched the invite and her jaw dropped. You squeezed your lips together to keep from laughing. Then your mom turned around.

“When the hell did he get those invites!”

One of the maids went up to you and shrugged.

“Not sure, Pepper. It was what was sent out.”

Your mother scowled, but you walked forward with your hands on your hips. You knew this charade before. 

“C’mon Loki. We know it’s you.”

The maid scowled. In a flicker of golden light, you saw him, your stomach bursting with butterflies. The most attractive man you had ever met- who happened to be none other than the trickster god turned Avenger ally Loki. Not minding that one awkward time he was possessed, wanted attention, and threw your dad off a building. Besides that, he was great. 

“Well- how did you guess?” he asked casually. He went over to a chair and plopped himself in.

“You use green and gold- that’s as subtle as a freight train.”

“But…let’s be honest, YN…wouldn’t you like an entire evening enjoying my company and many charms?”

You would not stand for that crap.

“Yeah, you’ve said that to every one of us by now. Fix the invitations. We will be glad to have you around as a guest,” you said.

“And if I don’t?” he dared with a wide smile.”

You folded your arms.

“I will find a way for Thor to hold you down as we force-feed your yyourpopcorn,” you threatened.

He scrunched his nose and made a disgusted face. Then he got back up and regathered himself smoothly. 

“Well, in the case…if it’s sweet YN who asks for it, who am I to refuse?” he let down a little bow. When he smiled at you, you felt hot and turned your eyes away.

 Your mother clapped her hands.

“Well! A party calls for a new outfit! Should we go off to lunch and shopping tomorrow? There are so many stores with good deals now!” your mother said. 

“Hmm, I say you both are fine as you are. Why make all the fuss adding onto perfection itself!” Loki replied.

“Please save it for the version of you with boobs, Loki. I know you give it to every breathing being here,” you sighed, rolling your eyes.

His lips tightened. Something in him dimmed.

“Alright. Then I’ll go,” he replied, vanishing into gold mist. 

Though you were part of the Stark family and you were…comfortable, to put it mildly. You knew it wasn’t just about the bargains. That she wanted to spend time with you.

But to spend time… shopping with you.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her you didn’t want to go shopping and that you hated shopping. That it was an ordeal. That the clothes would never fit right. No store did. The silent humiliation of being in a store changing room. The most beautiful pieces of clothing would have struggling buttons, tight against you.  Looking in the mirror and hating what you saw as you squeezed in and out. The changing rooms squeeze you in too. As if the space was trying to close in on you and choke you. That the only clothes would be the ones that would be so frumpy that even great-grandmas would refuse to wear them.  

“Uh…I think I’ll be fine. We can…see a movie or something, mom. There are some good ones out. And I think I’ll be more help if I stayed and helped with decorations,” you answered. If you had to pull more all-nighters to finish your work, so be it. Though your body aching with want of sleep from traveling said otherwise. 

The party was going swimmingly. Your dad was giving out his signature quips like a baker handing out cookies. You checked your dress and makeup in the mirror a million times. But it never felt enough.

Dammit, all of the Avengers were here. And they were all gorgeous specimens- the men, women, and people. Like it was a beauty pageant not a team of superheroes. Well, then there was your dad. And he had a dad-bod. But still- dad bods were in, everyone knew that. Your own…you doubted.

You could handle yourself around super-soldiers. But you had coursework to do still, to catch up on…you meagerly walked around, talking to no one. Your sad cocktail in hand. And there he was.

Stupid, Stupid, sexy Loki. In his gorgeous black Gucci suit. You could feel the saliva gather in your mouth. Swallowing the urge to drool at him. That smooth voice that always made your knees weak. Yes, he was who he was- a god of mischief and stirring the pot. He charmed and flirted and tricked his way to what he wanted but…he was just so…so…

Loki was already hanging out with Nat. He leaned against the bar, smiling as he talked with her. 

Part of you wanted to cry. Part of you wanted to scream. 

That was the type of woman he preferred. No one in heaven, hell, or earth would it be you. Not the…thin, stunning goddesses you passed by every day. Nat, Captain Marvel, to name a few. How could you compare to them? Even if they were nice to you. Smiled to you. Aske you how school and life were…no matter how genuine they were, you’d never measure up. Be good enough. Not for a man…much less a god. 

This was too much. An hour into the party and you were already done. You had to go away. Do some studying. Yes, you would be “that” girl from every romance book and fanfic who would claim she would rather study than party and then somehow have every man alive fighting over her. But this time you did have homework. It was better than failing. Or being here with your insecurity rubbed in your face. 

You went upstairs and threw open the door to your room.

As you got into your room, you turned on a lamp by your desk. The shadow of yourself stretching over the wall, filled with your pictures and posters. The comforting escape of home. Of privacy. You placed your textbook from your bag to the top of the desk. As you reached for your laptop to type an essay, the shadow of yourself stretched. You looked up and realized you weren’t moving an inch. But it was stretching long and wide. When to your shock, it became a person whose hands reached down to the desk and grabbed the book.

“Hey! What the fuck?!” you muttered. 

The shadow reached it up. You saw it became tall, with the outline of shoulder-length curled hair and horns on top of its head. You stretched your arm to the textbook, but it wouldn’t give you back.

“Can I please have it back?” you asked worriedly. No doubt who was behind this. His usual lack of subtlety from the horns.

To your surprise, the shadow relented. It lowered its hands, the book gently going down. It was placed in your free hand. Then the black shadow took your other hand. It felt as cool and light as morning mist. The figure with horns bent down and kissed it gallantly.

You smiled despite yourself.

When you turned around, there you saw none other than the god of mischief, leaning against the doorframe.

“Why- what are you doing in my room?”

“Technically, my dear, I’m not in your room,” Loki replied.

“Just answer my question,” you said. 

He gave an easy shrug, his smug smile still on him.

“You left the door open and didn’t close or lock it- and I wanted to have a little fun with you. It looks like you are doing anything downstairs but enjoying yourself.”

You crossed your arms, looking at him. But his brows furrowed and his smile dropped. His eyes looked over your work before going to you.

 “What do they even do in these universities?” he asked.

“Give you too much work and reading. Quite a bit- are you sure there isn’t anything that could help? Even a little? Turn myself into you and go to your classes in your place?” he offered.

“Help? You’re offering me, help? Why would you offer someone you can’t stand help?” you asked. “Hm? Why are you so nice to me? You hate me!”

“I don’t hate you, my dear.”

“Not even…a little?”

“Not at all, I…”

He swallowed a little. He then went forward and took your hands in his. Your heart about stopped. You felt as if you could float out of your body. He looked at you and spoke with a tenderness- a sincerity you had never heard from him before. 

‘YN…I don’t know how to say this but…I like you. So much. So much it drives me almost mad. To think- I am seen, heard by you. To think you scold me, talk to me…I just want nothing more than for you to talk to me a little more…just a bit more…To hear, savor your words. Each bit of you. I am merely wood and you are fire- you always had such beautiful fire in you- and you must know it’s you and you alone who sparks me alight.”

You nearly dropped your jaw. The wind was knocked out of you. You could hardly believe what you heard was real.

“You’ve played lots of tricks before…now, come on. Where is the snake hiding under the chair…” you muttered.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Disarming me with some fake confession of love and then sending out a snake to bite me? You’re quite known for that!” you bit back.

“There is no snake. But there is love,” he replied. His eyes went wide, always meeting yours.

You felt your face and body get too hot. Your breathing grew rapid and your eyes fell to the floor. This was too good to be true, it was!

“For…for me? “Don’t lie to me…you love someone like…like Nat or Carol…just go to them!” you dismissed. 

You turned around to look out the window. You wrapped your arms around yourself. So he wouldn’t see the tears starting to fall on your face. Then you felt his hand and felt him turn you around. 

“But I’m not with Nat or Carole…I’m with you…” he replied.

You froze.

“I am not worthy of love…” you said.

Loki’s lips began to quiver.

“I’m not worthy of you. You are everything beautiful adn good in this world, this life. I was only a creature left to die in the snow….”

“I was too! My birth mom…she…she couldn’t keep me. It was pure luck I was chosen at all for a family, much less someone like my dad!”

“Your family wanted you. They always did. Mine…not as much…YN, could you love an unwanted second son?” he asked, his hands over his heart.

“Yes…yes, I could…” you said.

You both leaned closer. Your blood rushed into your ears, the pure joy sparkling all about you. His beautiful pink lips were about to touch yours-

“Hey Romeo, can that magic conjure a condom?” 

You turned your head to see your dad, crossing his arms and turning bright red at the sight of you.

“Dad! I’m an adult! I can choose who I want to date!” you said, rolling your eyes. Loki stepped forward. Trying that polite grace he was raised to possess as a prince.

“Please, sir…there was nothing of that sort….well, not yet- She should choose freely for herself-.”

“Hmmm, you’re a smooth talker…I just might, I dunno. He might throw me off a building again. Can’t risk that,” your dad muttered.

Loki kept his composure, his blue eyes soft when they looked at you. Like you were the most precious gemstone in all the realms. Like you were a goddess made for him alone to fall before his feet and worship. Like…like…in a way that made you feel beautiful. 

 “I would…would be honored if she even chose me at all…” the god confessed.

You placed your hand in his.

“I would.”