#ballet Bucky

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Heyo! For the wrapped ask, number 13? Stucky?

Also just wanted to say you’re one of my favourite fic authors I’ve found in a while ❤️ I often anticipate the smutty stuff the most but in your fics I enjoy the in-betweens so much! The way your write children is simultaneously the most warm yet hilarious prose and it always feels so much more lifelike than I often read? Having kids probably helps lol. Sorry I’m just rambling on but you’ve brought me a lot of comfort in the past few months and I appreciate you a lot

Hope you have a good one!!! :)

Thank you for the amazingly kind sweet words - so encouraging - flattery will get you everywhere, so here is a 2500 word smutty fic inspired by this wistful little love song, and yes, I wrote this whole fucking thing last night laying in bed and edited it today in between work calls because I have ADHD, we've talked about this, my brain is very good at doing exactly what it wants and sometimes our interests align and things like this happen.

I listened to this album (So Jealous) on repeat when writing the sad chapters of my fic Tension and Tonic, so not surprised this song ended up in my top songs nor in the direction this story took.

Tegan and Sarah - Take Me Anywhere

Warning this is smutty with graphic sexytimes.

“Stop making me laugh. I'm trying to be sexy," Steve laughs. 

"If you can't laugh and be sexy what are you even doing, sweetheart," Bucky drawls back and that's probably when Steve fell in love with Bucky. Unfortunately it was also during their first hook up. It was decent enough - mutual blow jobs. Bucky clearly knew what he was doing. On the surface nothing too different than Steve’s normal routine of finding a guy and blowing off some steam, but there were a lot of subtle red flags that should have warned Steve to run like hell.

Like how entranced Steve was when it was his turn to make Bucky feel good. Bucky, with his dancer's grace, with the asymmetry of his missing arm making the lines of him more perfect somehow, his long hair falling loose into his face, framing his perfect jawline, the pink O of his mouth, the dark smudge of his eyelashes. The way his elegant fingers fluttered so tenderly along Steve's cheek when he sucked in. It was. Lovely. Bucky is lovely. Lovable. It's a problem. 

That first time Bucky had sort of folded Steve into his body after, pulling him up onto the couch and burying his face in Steve's hair in a way that normally would have made Steve bristle because he is small but he's not a fucking stuffed animal. But Bucky hummed and sighed in this contented way. Bucky is all bones and muscular and yet fluid and it feels powerful to be held so desperately by someone like that. 

"Sorry I’m a cuddler, just shove me off when you get sick of me," Bucky hums, and laughs after a minute, and lets Steve go. "Don't make fun of me, I can't have sex with out snuggling, I should have warned you in the Grindr chat," and Bucky is easy and lax and happy and Steve could have maybe stayed longer without it being weird, but by then, he kind of wanted to stay forever so he definitely needed to go right away. 

Bucky is a former ballet dancer. Well, he still dances actually, but he was a principal with the New York City Ballet till he lost his arm, a story he shrugs off easily. "My ma always said I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached and turns out it's the same for my arm? I called the Coney Island lost and found, but it wasn't there? Just kidding, it was a car accident, just glad I'm alive." He's the assistant director of fundraising for the ballet now, and does some choreography too, Steve's not sure how it all works, but Bucky is happy and charming and Steve would definitely hand over all his money to fund the ballet if Bucky had asked him. But. Bucky's never asked him to donate to the ballet. They don't talk about work stuff beyond the minimum. Steve’s just happy they talk at all.  

The next week Steve's phone pings and it's Bucky on Grindr again, and apparently Bucky had a shit day and wants to get fucked, and he likes Steve's dick so, well, does Steve top? Steve saves his work, stops his time tracker, and that's all the graphics that are getting designed for today. He changes out of his work from home sweats and puts on his date jeans, and heads over to Bucky's place to take them back off again. Bucky's wearing a suit, his hair slicked back, and the arm of the suit neatly tailored up. He looks amazing, his tie just a little loose around his neck, his eyes lazy and suggestive, moving right into Steve's space and dipping his head down for a kiss before Steve can even say hello. 

Steve can work with that, he pushes Bucky into the wall and spreads Bucky’s legs enough so that they're the same height and untucks Bucky's shirt so he can feel up his slim frame. Steve moves Bucky through his apartment and into his bed, and climbs on top of Bucky, and Bucky reaches into the bedtime table for lube and condoms and it's good, it's so good, and Steve can't recommend fucking a ballerina or whatever a guy ballet dancer is any higher, especially when Bucky bites hard into Steve's shoulder and keens desperately and more and more until Steve's ready to last forever if Bucky needs him to, except then Bucky's shaking apart with his one hand in Steve's hair and kissing him messily all teeth and heaving breath and that's fine. Steve loves Bucky's teeth. 

After, Steve's forcibly cuddled by Bucky again, which is fine because Steve's legs are kind of rubbery because he's not as athletic as Bucky - then again, who is. 

Steve cuddles with Bucky and listens to him ramble on about nothing in particular before sliding back into his date jeans and letting himself out. In his head tells himself this is a business transaction more or less. Steve is a consultant who knows how to do authentic and meaningful work for his clients and move on. A skillshare of sorts. 

It sort of becomes a Friday night thing. Most Friday nights Bucky seems to have some kind of high end fundraiser related to his work at the ballet. It makes sense that Bucky can’t be hunting for a hookup while representing his work, so it’s perfectly logical that he’d touch base with Steve after for a bit of no strings attached fun. Steve doesn’t see any need to tell Bucky that he’s not seeing anyone else and also that he’d love to be Bucky’s boyfriend because, haha, what? Why would he say that? 

Honestly, they barely know each other beyond Steve having every inch of Bucky’s flexible, lovely body memorized. Steve’s favorite parts are the imperfections, the freckles, the scars, the cowlick that makes his hair stick up funny if he doesn’t slather product in it. He doesn’t mention it, because what kind of asshole would mention it, but he’s transfixed by the way Bucky adapts to having one arm, because it’s just so fucking beautiful. It draws the eye, the way his liquid grace casually defies gravity. It often seems his momentum should go one way, but it seamlessly flows another, and Steve wants to draw Bucky or at least take a picture of him. But they don’t do that. 

"I looked up your art," Bucky murmurs into Steve's hair one evening during their post coital cling session that maybe gets a little longer every week. Steve kind of freezes because what? He didn’t realize Bucky even knew his last name?  "It's good. You're pretty badass. It's impressive. I can't draw for shit, so I was curious what kind of art you do. Maybe we could commission you at the ballet, you like drawing ballet shoes and legs and shit?"

"Oh," Steve says because, like, seriously, Bucky, do you not know what a hookup is? Steve should be getting dressed right now, not letting Bucky lazily slide his hand up and down Steve's back while talking about his art.

"It's dynamic, lots of movement, reminded me of dancing. Maybe I have a dancing brain. Everything reminds me of dancing," Bucky laughs, and his breath is hot into Steve's hair, and Steve laughs too, because laughter is the appropriate response and also dear oh dear. Yeah. Bucky Barnes is lovable. 

"You had heart surgery?" Bucky asks in a sudden subject change. And Steve wonders for a minute how Bucky knows that. In his defense, he's drunk on sex endorphins and being stroked like a kitten and practically purring. 

"Yeah, couple of em," Steve says. It's such an enormous scar. Obviously Bucky noticed the damn thing, they’ve been naked together close to a dozen times. 

"It's all ticking away alright now though?" Bucky says softly, and Steve huffs a yes and pulls back before he falls asleep. "Should I not have asked? I feel like I have no filter about scars and shit since I got de-armed. It's like, I dunno. My injury is the first thing everyone sees. You're probably as bored as I am of talking about it."

"Did you ever have a filter?" Steve teases, and Bucky laughs hard, his head thrown back with joy, and that feels good. "Yeah, Buck, I'm pretty healthy these days."

Steve manages to escape a little while later. He looks up videos of Bucky dancing. It's only fair if Bucky's been looking up Steve's art. What he does next in the privacy of his own home when he sees Bucky's thighs in those ballet tights is his own business. All of the videos are from before the car accident. Bucky looks strange with two arms, off balance and overloaded, which makes absolutely no sense, but Steve’s just so used to Bucky’s body how it is now. 

They meet up the next week, and Bucky’s freshly showered from a dance performance, which, Steve didn’t realize Bucky was performing anymore, let alone today. Bucky’s full of adrenaline and way pushier than normal, taking Steve’s mouth and getting Steve up against the wall. Usually Steve doesn’t like to be pushed around, but he trusts Bucky by now. He’s really a super nice guy. Steve couldn’t be luckier in having such a convenient sex arrangement with such a beautiful, kind, sexually compatible person. This is a thought he has briefly before Bucky grabs him by the crotch and presses their shoulders together hard, slamming Steve into the wall, and Steve’s mind kind of whites out. 

After they’re laying on the floor in the hallway of Bucky’s apartment, huffing and limp and half dressed. Steve reaches into his jacket pocket, (how convenient they are still right there by the door) and takes a puff of his inhaler. 

“Shit, you ok?” Bucky asks in surprise. 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m cat-sitting for a friend, got my allergies up, and you know, I know that wasn’t enough exertion to get your heart rate up, but some of us mere mortals have physical limits.” 

Bucky laughs dryly. “My heart rate was up Steve. Before the physical exertion started, actually though,” he adds softly. And what is that supposed to mean? 

Steve lays in bed awake half the night trying to decide if he should go to Bucky’s dance performance the next night. It’s in a massive hall, there’s no way Bucky would know. Is it too intimate? Is it too stalkery? Does he mention it after if he goes? Is it weirder if he goes and doesn’t mention it? That would be weird if he doesn’t mention it, so okay he has to mention it but does he mention it before or after he goes? The tickets are expensive too, so then it’s weird like, does he seem like he’s trying to score free tickets if he mentions it before? But then Bucky seems like the type to be annoyed if Steve pays when Bucky has free tickets on offer. Ugh. 

In the end, Steve goes, and he buys the ticket and doesn’t tell Bucky, and he cries because Bucky’s dancing is amazing, and breathtaking, and every adjective, and Steve could draw only Bucky for the rest of his life and not have captured the lines, the strength of him, the defiance. He wants to explain to the person next to him that he’s not crying because he’s like inspired that Bucky is disabled, but because he’s in love with Bucky, and it’s one thing to suspect the guy you’ve been fucking with no strings attached every Friday night for months is perfect, but it’s another thing to have it proven. 

Steve doesn’t mention to Bucky that he went to his performance, but he tries to put it into the way he touches Bucky the next week. Reverent. He spends close to an hour opening Bucky up with his mouth and fingers, and the sounds Bucky makes when Steve finally enters him, kissing him gently down his neck, the way Bucky’s out of athletic moves to try and wow Steve with, but just transcendently arching up, helpless with pleasure, that’s how Steve lets Bucky know he saw him dance, and he loved it, and he loves Bucky. 

That night, Bucky asks him to stay the night, and Steve actually has an early Saturday meeting with a client, he’s not making it up, he even shows Bucky the calendar note, and Bucky laughs happily, and says it isn’t a big deal. But. It seems like a big deal. Steve makes sure not to schedule anything the next Saturday, in case Bucky asks again, but Bucky doesn’t ask again. Which is fine. 

Then something strange happens. Steve’s locking up Wanda’s apartment from checking on her cat, and his phone pings, and it’s Bucky via Grindr, asking for Steve’s phone number. It’s actually super weird they haven’t done the phone number thing yet, honestly, Steve doesn’t even use Grindr except to confirm his weekly dates with Bucky. Steve sends his number over as he’s walking to the subway to head back home, it’s only one stop, but it’s cold. 

Bucky texts him right away, asking him what he’s doing Friday. Steve says he’s open, because, duh? At this point, Steve would turn down the presidential medal of freedom if the ceremony was on a Friday night between 10 pm and midnight. 

Bucky asks him what he’s doing at 6 pm on Friday, and that’s new. They almost never hang out before 10 pm, or whenever Bucky’s fundraising events wrap up. Steve’s not doing anything in particular, and says as much. Bucky asks if he’d hate wearing a suit and getting free wine? And Steve does not, in fact, hate free wine. He also has a decent suit, he thinks it’s pretty stylish still, he had it tailored a few years ago, but men’s styles don’t change as fast as women’s, which is a relief when you are not a standard human male size and have to have all your clothes custom fit to make sure you don’t look like a child wearing their dad’s dress up clothes. 

Bucky asks if Steve would want to meet up with him at his fundraiser on Friday, it’s at an art gallery, and the art reminded him of Steve. Steve feels his heart pound. 

S: I like free wine, wearing suits, and art galleries. Sure. 

B: Another question. 

S: I also like answering questions 

B: Do you like holding hands? 

S: Depends on the hand. 

B: I mean, I only have the one. 

Steve feels dizzy. 

S: Yes, I would like holding your hand. One is sufficient for my needs. 

B: And you would like holding my hand and going somewhere with me on a date? 

S: You could take me anywhere.

[onbearfeet]

I think today is a good day to show @burninblood and the rest of Team BuckyNat my handpainted Chris Samnee BuckyNat pint mug. (Handpainted by me, using art by Chris Samnee.) It gets a lot of use as a water mug at this time of year.

[wintersoldiersoul]

Twisted

Synopsis: You're a dancer and you get injured

Word count: 1,270

You watched yourself in the mirror in front of you, stretching your arm higher to make the perfect line. Carefully, you went up onto pointe, the pain immediately shooting through your ankle. You were no stranger to dancing with an injury. Being a professional ballerina, there was rarely a time that you weren’t injured. But it was different recovering from a broken ankle than a sprain. You had been out of commission for months. Technically, you shouldn’t even be attempting to go back on pointe yet but it was October and that meant Nutcracker season. 

Months of daily rehearsals and performances. You were determined to get at least a soloist role this year. It was your third year in the company and you were tired of being stuck in the corps-de-ballet. No. Not anymore. This year would be your year. Even with an injury. 

You pushed through the pain, drilling in the solo that you would be performing for your audition the next day. When you finally took a break and checked your phone, you realized it had been 2 hours. You had 5 missed texts and two missed calls from Bucky. He knew exactly where you were. And he knew it was a place you shouldn’t be without being fully recovered. 

Bucky: Baby you’re gonna make it worse.

Bucky: Come on, doll I don’t want to see you get hurt again.

Bucky: Please my love, just come home. 

Bucky: I know you can do whatever you want, but you know this isn’t smart. 

Bucky: I’m coming to get you. You’ve been there for too long already. 

The last text had been sent 20 minutes ago. You knew Bucky would arrive at the studio any minute. 

You didn’t let that stop you, though, as you clicked play on the music and ran through the solo two more times. You were about to start a third time when you heard the studio door open. Bucky walked towards you. 

“Buck, you can’t have shoes in the studio!” You exclaimed.

“And you can’t be dancing on a broken ankle.” He fired back. You pushed some stray hairs out of your face and behind your ears. You looked like a mess after dancing for so long. 

“I’m fine, okay? I feel fine.” You gritted your teeth and cursed as you took a step towards him.

“Yeah, babe. You seem really fine.” He wasn’t mad at you, just worried. He knew that you were smart and capable of making your own decisions but he had also been dating you long enough to know that ballet dancers don’t listen to logic. Or doctors. Especially during the most important time of the season. 

You looked into his eyes. They were pleading with you to stop, to just let him take you home. But you still hadn’t fully nailed the Fouette turns at the end of the variation. You just needed a little bit more time.

“One more run through. And then you can take me home, okay?”

Bucky wanted to fight you on it, but he knew there was no point. “Okay. One more time. That’s it. After that, I’m throwing you over my shoulder to take you out of here if I have to.” 

“You can sit in here but just don’t distract me, okay?”

He walked over to the corner and sat down. Bucky loved watching you dance. You were so light on your feet, making each step look so easy. He loved how happy and free you looked. But right now, he was terrified that something was going to go wrong. As much as he loved watching you dance, he hated seeing you injured which was pretty much always. 

You clicked play on the music and began the variation. The pain in your ankle was excruciating, causing each subtle movement to send a shooting pain that reverberated through your entire leg.

You made it through about half of the turns at the end when everything came crumbling down. Your bad ankle, the one you were turning on, gave out and rolled over itself. You let out a scream of agony as you fell to the ground, causing Bucky to run over to you.

“Oh my god, Y/N.”

You couldn’t say anything in response. The pain was so bad that you just screamed and cried as he scooped you up in his arms. 

“It’s gonna be okay, baby. Let’s get you home and get that ankle elevated with some ice, okay?” 

You nodded. “Sh-shoes. N-need to get out of the pointe shoes.” The tight boxes surrounding your feet weren’t helping the pain. 

“Okay baby, I’ll help you take them off.” He untied the one on your good ankle and reached for the other one. Even the slightest touch caused you to cry in agony. “I know baby, I’m sorry. But you’re right, you do need to get out of these shoes.” Without the constriction of the ribbons and elastic, you could see how truly swollen your ankle was. Bucky didn’t even bother trying to get you into your sneakers, knowing he was going to carry you to the car anyway. 

You cried the whole way home, half from the pain, and half from knowing that you would be completely out of dancing for months.

Bucky carried you into the house and carefully set you on the couch. He carefully helped you change out of your dancewear, audibly gasping when he took off your tights, revealing the true state of your ankle. It was twice the size of the other one, littered with black, blue, and purple. 

“Oh babe…” Bucky sighed. He too knew that you’d be out for a while. That you’d have to go months without doing the thing that made you the happiest.

He carried you back to the couch, settling your foot onto a pillow to keep it elevated. He got an ice pack from the freezer and set it around your ankle, trying to be as gentle as possible. Once it was settled, he snuck his body behind yours, letting your back fall against his chest. Your crying had subsided a bit, but you still were sniffling as smaller waves of tears rolled down your cheeks. 

“You were right. I should have just listened to you. Oh god, I’m so stupid!”

Bucky stroked your hair lovingly. “Hey, stop it. You’re not stupid. You’re determined. You’re passionate. You’re so incredibly strong and resilient. That’s why you were in that studio, okay? Because you have such an amazing work ethic and drive. Not because you’re stupid.”

You sniffled again. “I’m gonna be out for a while.”

“I know baby, I know,” he said, sadly. He felt just as awful about it as you did. “But it’s gonna be okay. You are so talented. You’re such a beautiful dancer and you have a natural gift. Take the time to let this heal now so that you can be even stronger next year.” 

You let your body fully relax against him and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“Get some rest, my love. It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna make sure you get through this. And I’ll help you with physical therapy. And I’ll wait on you hand and foot, alright? Don’t worry about a thing.”

“I love you so much, Bucky.” You whispered, as you began to lose the fight against the exhaustion that was overtaking your body.

“I love you, too, Y/N. Just rest right now. It’s all gonna be okay.”

You felt him kiss your head softly before you let the sea of sleep overtake you.

[stuckymonkey]

Hi everyone!!! I have a really huge favour to ask!

I'm looking for a fic🚨🚨

It was choreographer!bucky x ballerina!reader

The writer's blog starts with an S and the pfp is of purple yarn!

The title is something around The Princess and The Cinnamon Roll

Reader is a ballerina who is being cast in Swan Lake as Odette

The story was about how Bucky was super grumpy and rude but super sweet (eventually) to reader!

She gets injured, she mostly eats Cinnamon rolls

Help is very much appreciated 🤍🤍🤍

[estelior]

Ballet!AU that no one asked for, but here we are :D

[pandagirl45]

Violin player Bucky and Ballet dancer Tony

That's it.

That's the post

[luckydeuce]

Edward Watson, Calvin Richardson and Akane Takada - Woolf Works

[greekgeek24]

So, I do have some mixed feelings about AI art, but I do think it can be a great tool for artists. I’m definitely going to use these as references for His Spiders fanart!

[trasheapknowsall]

When young Morticia Parker, freshly orphaned and confused, sees an ad for a ballet class, she begs may and Ben to let her try it out, and after some negotiation, they take her to a try out class, and that's the day she bacame a dancer.

When Morticia met Harry Osborn, they didn't get along, he thought she was a dumb girl, and she thought he was a pretentious ass (- even if she didn't actually know what it meant), but when she defended him against some dumb kid with raised fists and bared teeth, they had quickly become attached at the hip.

Once harry found out about the ballet class, he insisted on coming to every rehearsal and every show and competition, and when the girls needed a male partner he was happy(albite shy) to be of help.

At some point Morticia found herself dancing as the male partner due to the lack of them in the class, but she didn't mind, infact she really liked it.

At some point, when harry and Morticia started bickering, he called her-"just a stupid girl" and she couldn't have that. She replied with a venomous " I'm not a stupid girl! I'm a PARKER!". Harry didn't call her anything else since.

At some point Parker stopped wanting to go to classes, she stopped wanting to do anything really, she shut down. Later on when May and Ben walked in on her babysitter holding her down they understood why.

After that, when Parker started dancing again, it was to heal, it was to breathe.

And this time around, when they went to court, and won another case, parker kept dancing through it, to heal, to breath, to live.

When Parker met Tutu, it was like a breath of fresh air. The first time they met, she made him laugh so hard he spent 10 minutes on the floor recovering. The first time they met, it was like someone opened a window In a room that had no air.

Parker and Tutu bacame partners in every sense of the word. Whenever they could, they would dance together, they would cover for each other, prank each other, blamed each other and laughed at each other.

When Parker, a young(so very young) nerd, went on a field trip to Oscorp, was bitten, and gained powers, she didn't want to do anything about it, but then uncle Ben was shot. He was shot and she was at fault. And the only thing she could do, was take his knowledge, and perform it the best she could.

'with great power, comes great responsibility '

Parker kept dancing, she danced like her life depended on it.(it almost did)

Parker kept dancing, and she kept up her grades, and she kept up aunt may, and she kept fighting on the streets. And the only thing that kept her up, was Tutu.

Tutú. Tutú that held Parker through tears and breakdowns, that talked her down from a distance with flashbacks and panic attacks, that held her hand through the grief and the heartache, that held her back on rooftops and bridges, that stitched parker up from stab wounds (pricks) and split knuckles.

Parker got batter, Parker became spider-man.

At first, when people started calling her spider-man, she almost corrected them. But then she figured out that she couldn't care less, in fact, she kind of liked it.

Parker kept dancing.

And Then parker disappeared.

Parker was gone and May and Tutu were left picking up the pieces for their life they had left.

Parker was gone, but she and Tutu kept dancing.

Every time Tutu was dancing, jumping in the air, or twirling around the room, she felt like Parker was there, hands light on her waist, guiding her through the movements, whispering praises in her ear.

Every time parker was dancing, a routine that was ingrained in her head, she felt Tutu there, clapping cheerfully in the mirror, hands light as they help her into a new position.

Then parker was back.

Parker found out her aunt was in the hospital and wasn't going to wake up anytime soon, and didn't know what else to do except dance. So she went to the studio, and did just that.

When Parker came to the studio every day for a week spending hours upon hours in different rooms, with different people, it took her just that amount of time to realize that someone wasn't there.

Tutú was dancing, but she couldn't go back to dancing in a place where she's expecting someone she knows isn't coming.

It took time, but when a friend asks her to come help her with rehearsals, she reunites with parker, and it's full of kisses, and hugs, and tears, and a couple breakdowns.

When the internship with stark, that parker gained after spending some recovery time in the tower, becomes too close and personal, she tries running away, but like time and time again, Tutu was a lifeline and a fresh breath of air.

When Parker brought in James(fucking)Barnes to a rehearsal, tut almost had an aneurysm, asking him questions and staring at him with wide eyes, and Parker was pleased to see the nerd deep in her heart come out.

So they danced.

They danced, and they fought, and they talked, and hugged, and kissed, and they sang, and they fell in love.

They slept, and they were silent, and they cried, and they breathed, and they fell in love.

After all is it even worth it, if you aren't that tad bit in love with your best friends?

Cause they know that it totally is when they are.

Tutú knows that being in love with her best friends means everything is just a tad MORE. It's feeling at peace when they talk to her, it's the buzz under her skin when they touch it's the fireworks in her brain when they laugh, it's the pleased feeling in her chest when they smile.

Parker knows that being in love with her best friend means everything is better. That everything is more peaceful next to her, is having coffee breath on each other's faces, is the butterflies in her stomach when they spend time together, is the thrill of living next to her.

Together, they know falling in love with their best friend like a waterfall that they want to drown in, they know it like quite peaceful mornings, they know it like aching muscles, sweat and a smile, they know it like whispered promises they always managed to keep, they know it like grief and tears, they know it like they know the other.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but it might be a start for a fic, so if you want this to be, help me, give me plots, ideas, quirks, even characters.

[bittersweet-in-boston]

*inarticulate gurgles*

when Steve starts showing off on his morning run so u gotta retaliate and be Extra in the park

REDBUBBLE

[flowersforbucky]

acquainted

bucky barnes x reader (undercover stripper!reader x undercover bodyguard!bucky)

word count: 3.3k

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (male and female receiving), vaginal penetration, language, strip club setting, creepy dude being a piece of shit, violence and a brief mention of blood, protective/possessive bucky, reader is afab, no use of y/n, touch her and die trope, Bucky might have a slight lingerie kink... 18+ only!

The pulsating fuschia and lime green strobe lights illuminating the club had been making your eyes throb for the last three hours. EDM plays so loudly that you're surprised blood doesn't trickle down from your ears. Not to mention the suffocating combination of cheap perfume, body odor, cigars, and booze that permeates the air makes your empty stomach churn.

If you never step foot into another nightclub when this is all over, you'll consider yourself lucky. Not just any nightclub - one of New Orleans’ scummiest strip clubs.

Five goddamn nights of this operation and not a lick of progress.

Your objective was simple - obtain proof that the owner was operating a sex trafficking ring out of the club, and then call for the back-up squad parked a block away. So far, you had not been able to acquire any kind of definitive proof. No hints of anything shady going on behind the scenes, and you had yet to even see the owner make an appearance at any point since the mission began.

Everything seems as above board as a strip club can be.

One last night, you compromised with Fury. One last night and if it went as the last few have, you were done, and he owes you a few days of paid leave for putting you through this.

“If you don't stop picking at your garter belt, it's not going to have any sequins left.” Bucky's low voice murmurs through the communication device placed discreetly in your left ear.

“If you don't stop watching my every movement, you’re not going to have any unbroken toes left,” you threaten lightly, taking a sip of your drink - just a Shirley Temple, to keep up appearances. “Shoes like this could do a lot of damage.” You glance down at the pointy heels of the black velvet stilettos.

“Is that not my job?” he counters. You don't have to look over at where he's standing in the corner of the room to know he's smirking. “To not take my eyes off of you?”

“Then do your job. Watch me. You don't have to make comments on my sequins to do that.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I'll be over here, admiring your sequins from afar. You won't even know I'm here.” The com line clicks off before you can retort.

Except you absolutely would know that he's here. Just as you have the previous four nights of this mission - painfully aware that he's here, tracking your every movement in the skimpiest outfits you've worn in your life, doing the most provocative dances imaginable, and flirting with men that you wouldn't touch with ten foot long poles in real life, all while he keeps to the sidelines in case something were to go wrong.

Keeps to the sidelines and just watches you. Even when one of the dancers approached him to ask if he'd be interested in a private dance once he's off the clock on the first night on the job.

Even when there's gorgeous, topless women crawling on the stage and all but humping the pole in his direct line of sight.

He isn't here to look out for them, of course. He is here solely to keep you safe if things were to go sideways. But you had assumed you would have caught him sneaking glances at the dozen other women at least once by now.

It's almost your turn to go up on stage. You've performed a solo set every night so far, and you still feel every bit as nervous as you did the first time.

You enjoy dancing, actually. In the comfort of your own room, when listening to music alone. When you go out with friends, occasionally. When you took ballet lessons as a child. This, however, was leagues out of your comfort zone.

“The creep from a couple nights ago is back,” Bucky's voice is a strained whisper in your ear.

“Gonna have to narrow it down a bit for me, Barnes. You could be referring to at least half of the men in here right now.”

“Sitting in front of the stage, to the left,” he mumbles back. “He's wearing a red wife-beater–”

“See him,” you interrupt, your eyes zeroing in on the short, stout, beady-eyed fuck who had been thrown out of the club night before last. One of the other security guards on duty chucked him out when he repeatedly got too handsy with one of the girls who had been giving him a lap dance.

“Fantastic,” you huff under your breath, as you finish touching up your lipgloss and reapplying the iridescent baby pink body glitter across your chest. “Just in time for my dance.”

You get up from your seat at the bar and adjust your lace bustier and thong as the announcer calls your stage name.

“He won't lay a finger on you,” Bucky assures you as you're walking up the steps of the platform.

There's a weak round of applause and a few whistles as you take your place on the center of the small stage. You give a vague nod in the direction of the DJ’s booth to indicate you're ready for your song to begin.

An upbeat but sensuous synth-pop song pours out of the speakers throughout the room and you begin to sway your hips.

You're hyper-aware of the fact that you can see Bucky making his way closer to you, away from his position in the back of the room. He settles when he's just a few tables behind the man in the red wife-beater.

There's an eruption of butterflies in the pit of your belly at how close he is. Each night prior to this, he has kept to lingering around the exits and the far wall towards the back of the club. Now, he's close enough that you can actually see his eyes following every languid movement that your body makes around the pole.

“Take your fucking top off!” a grating voice bellows from the audience. “We want to see your tits.”

You don't have to look to know who the voice belongs to. You decide to ignore him, hoping he would stop if you didn't give him any attention. You go to wrap your thighs around the pole again, preparing to spin–

“Did you not fucking hear me?” he shouts even louder this time, audible to everyone over the roaring music. “I said take your fucking–”

A flash of movement in your peripheral vision causes you to freeze around the pole. You turn your full attention to the ruckus, just in time to see Bucky fisting the man's greasy, shoulder length hair and pulling his head back. The music comes to an abrupt pause.

“You don't fucking talk to her like that,” Bucky snarls. “In fact, you don't talk to her at all, you don't look at her, you don't even breathe the same fucking air as her.”

The man is thrashing around, trying and failing miserably to get out of Bucky's grasp.

“Let me go you fucking–”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Bucky snaps the man's head forward, sending his face crashing into the granite tabletop.

The instantaneous pool of blood that contrasts so starkly against the white stone snaps you out of your fear-stricken trance.

Bucky pulls his head back up, forcing the man to look up at him.

“It's not my fault she refuses to show off those perfect–”

You all but jump off the stage - miraculously not breaking an ankle in the six inch heels - and rush over to where Bucky still has the man's hair yanked into his fist.

Just as Bucky is beginning to shove the man's head downwards again, you place both of your hands on his chest, gently but effectively shoving him backwards. He immediately releases his grip on the man as the other few security guards on duty arrive to detain the pervert.

“Hey, hey,” you place your hands on his biceps, trying to turn his attention to you and away from the man who he's still glaring after, as he's hauled off by security. “I'm fine, yeah? Everything is fine,” you try to assure him, though you're not sure your shaky voice sounds very convincing. “He's just a creepy, entitled asshole.”

Noticing that Bucky is shaking beneath your touch, you rub your hands up and down his arms in hopes of calming him down.

He finally meets your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at you as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Go get dressed,” he orders you calmly after a moment. “I’m getting you the fuck out of here.” You want to leave too badly to even think about objecting.

You make a beeline for the changing room, where you throw on a sweater and force your pants over your heels, not even bothering to change out of the lingerie and stilettos.

Bucky's waiting for you right outside the door as you sling your duffel bag across your shoulder.

“How mad do you think Fury will be that we are abandoning our positions?” you ask in a hushed tone as Bucky ushers you through the club, his metal arm wrapped around your waist.

“Not as mad as I am that he's had you doing this bullshit for no reason for almost a week now.”

You and Bucky exit the club as quickly as possible, ignoring the curious and confused stares of the other dancers and security guards. He guides you down the block, then through an alleyway where his motorcycle is parked in a heavy silence - other than the obnoxious clanking of your heels against the pavement.

Bucky straddles one leg over the seat of the bike, taking his place in the driver's position and then hands you the helmet.

“Wait,” you pause before putting it over your head. “I'm starving.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “Can we stop and get some take-out?”

He looks at you incredulously. “I just shattered that guy's nose and likely severely concussed him and then just dipped. Our cover is essentially blown, don't you think we should get back to the motel room and lay low until the morning?”

“There's a Chinese place open late just a few blocks from the motel–”

“If I say yes will you put on the helmet and get on the bike?”

Taking that as a win, you slide the helmet over your head and hop on behind him. You wrap your arms securely around his midsection in a tight hug and he takes off down Bourbon Street.

You spend the drive trying to ignore the thought that of all the times you've ridden on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, you don't remember him ever feeling so tense beneath your touch.

Half an hour later, you're lounging on the rickety motel bed, stuffing your face full of sweet and sour chicken and vegetable fried rice while Bucky fills Sam in on what happened over the phone.

He sits in one of the small chairs at the singular table in the corner of the room, his posture rigid. He answers all of Sam's questions with clipped, one-word responses as he massages his temple between his thumb and forefinger.

He hangs up the phone, refusing to meet your gaze. Instead, he pretends to be interested in the episode of Family Guy playing on the old motel TV.

“Your egg rolls are going to get soggy,” you tell him, pushing the to-go box across the mattress towards him.

“I don't have an appetite right now,” he says, picking up the box of food as he stands. You grab his bicep in your hand as he begins to walk past where you're sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you say, stopping him. “Everything's okay. Really. Don't let that guy get to you–”

“A little late for that, don't you think?” He snaps, pulling his arm from your grasp. You sit back, too stunned by his reaction to know how to respond. You just stare after him as he crams his take-out box into the motel room's mini fridge.

“I shouldn't have reacted so harshly,” he says after a moment, still facing away from you. “I couldn't stop myself. He spoke to you that way, and I could have killed him and not thought twice about it. Probably would have if you hadn't intervened.”

He turns back to you. You're frozen in place.

“Do you know what that's like?” He asks, taking a step closer to you. “To feel like you aren't in control of your own body? To be so irrationally protective of someone that you'd kill for them without a second thought?”

You feel like all air has been stripped from your lungs. He's just inches away, staring down at you from where you sit on the edge of the mattress. The way he's looking at you makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

“Because that's what you do to me. That's how you make me feel.”

Heat pools between your legs.

“Come here,” you say - it sounds more like a question than a command.

He closes what little distance is left between the two of you, and pulls you up from the mattress by the tops of your arms so that your body is flush against his.

His mouth hovers over yours - not quite making contact, though you can feel his breath fan across your skin.

He takes his flesh hand and cups the side of your face with it, his thumb trailing across your bottom lip. His metal hand wanders down your back until it reaches the curve of your ass - grasping your cheek in a firm hold and squeezing until his touch borders between pleasure and pain.

“This is what I wanted to do to you every time I saw a man so much as glance in your direction in that club,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought about bending you over the stage and making them watch me take you right then and there, but they didn't deserve to see that.”

“They aren't here to see us now,” you murmur as you bring your hand to cup the noticeable bulge of his jeans, eliciting a hiss from him. “So what are you going to do now?”

There's a dark grin spread across his face. He pushes you, softly but effectively, back down on the bed. You scout back a few inches on the mattress, and then bring one of your feet up to remove the stiletto heels that you'd completely forgotten to take off upon returning to the motel with your haul of Chinese food.

“Oh, no,” Bucky laughs lowly. “I want you to keep those on. I've grown to like those quite a bit.”

Your cheeks warm in both arousal and bashfulness. You begin to push your pants down your thighs as Bucky kneels on the ground and helps you maneuver the fabric around your shoes. The sweater that you threw over your bustier goes next.

You're left in the lingerie set that you wore at the club.

“Call me jealous,” Bucky sighs as he begins trailing sloppy kisses up the insides of your thighs. “Call me possessive, call me crazy..”

You lay back down against the scratchy comforter as Bucky gets closer and closer to where you're aching to have him the most.

“But I don't want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

He pulls the already soaked lace material of your thong to the side, exposing your cunt.

He licks up your center torturously slow, causing you to let out a sharp exhale. He repeats the motion, and then locks his lips around your clit. Your hands shoot to his hair, fisting your fingers through the short brunet strands.

He eats you until you're a mewling and squirming mess beneath him.

You come hard, clenching your thighs around his head and riding his face through your orgasm.

“Stand up,” you instruct him as soon as you can think semi-clearly.

He obeys without any hesitation. The warm glow of the singular lamp in the motel room highlights the way your slick coats the lower half of his face.

You get up on your hands and knees before him and he lets out an audible groan at the sight in front of him. He bends down enough to kiss you - cupping your face in both of his hands and tipping your head up to give him a better angle to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moan into the kiss - the ache between your thighs reappearing already.

He removes his hands from your face, unbuttoning his pants while still kissing you.

You pull away to help free his cock from the confines of his boxers. Your mouth waters at what's directly in front of you. He's impressively long and girthy, with a thick vein running up the side.

You pump him a few times in your hand, swirling your tongue around the pre-cum dripping from his slit. He's already putty in your hands - groaning above you and placing his metal hand around the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you.

After you've run your tongue up and down his length a few times, you spit on the tip of his cock and massage it over the entirety of his shaft before taking him as far into your mouth as you can in the first go. He throws his head back, moaning your name.

You feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag before pulling back.

He curses under his breath, nudging himself slowly back towards your throat again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises and you moan around his dick. He gradually increases the speed at which he pumps himself into your mouth, obscene noises echoing off of the thin motel room walls.

When he pulls out, you feel drool running down your neck and mascara-tinted tears leaking from your eyes.

“You're so gorgeous like this for me,” he tells you, and despite knowing that you look thoroughly fucked out, you believe him. “Will you turn around?”

You do as he asks, turning around on your hands and knees. You lower your chest down to the bed so that your ass is angled upwards.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts under his breath. He grips your hips with both of his hands, yanking you to him. His erection juts against the cloth of your underwear.

He tugs them aside once more, giving him access to tease your slit with the head of his cock. You rock backwards, grinding against him. He brings his flesh hand around your stomach and reaches down to rub your clit as he begins to slowly fill you from behind.

He pauses for a moment once he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust to the fullness of him before he starts fucking into you.

The combination of him slamming into you at such an intense angle and massaging you so perfectly has your climax building shamefully fast.

You grunt his name, bouncing your ass to meet his thrusts. “I'm gonna come,” you mewl, knowing he's on the verge of doing the same as his movements become uneven.

One, two, three more pumps and you can feel your pussy clenching around him as you come together.

You pull off of him, collapsing onto the bed and rolling onto your back. He crawls over you, propping himself up on his arms above you.

“You know,” he stares down at you, his eyes trailing to your breasts that are now spilling out of the black lace bustier. “As much as I hated every second of that mission, I do hope I might get to see you in some of these outfits again.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist!!!

[buckyalpine]

Hello Shay ! I’ve been loving the civilian!reader fics, and I had an idea for a fic like that, but with a twist 🫣 reader is bucky’s sweet civilian gf, literal definition of sunshine, basically a lover, not a fighter. She’s a ballet teacher at a local studio (hint hint wink wink). And she lives with him and the team at the tower. One night, while the team is out on a mission, Hydra ambushes the tower and tries to take the reader hostage. And when they learn about it, they rush back home in order to save her. Meanwhile, Bucky and Tony check the footage just to see his precious sweet girl absolutely kicking ass. And I mean hardcore, like she even does the entire widow thigh-neck move. And everyone is like??? And Bucky’s just absolutely fucking HORNY bc “hell I’ve been in between those thighs so many times, you’re telling me I could’ve DIED???”

okay YESSSSS we live for a badass gf who appears to be nothing but sweet sunshine and killer on the inside. Fluffy fluffy and smutty smutty

-

"Be back soon, darling" Bucky cooed, kissing you again and again while everyone boarded the jet, getting in a few more pecks before having to leave on a mission.

"C'mon lover boy, the faster we get going, the faster you get back to your sweetheart!" Tony yelled, shaking his head watching Bucky look a you with puppy eyes, not wanting to leave his sunshine behind. "He's so down bad, I swear"

"Can you blame him, she's so cute" Sam smiled, watching the two of you cling onto each other for a few extra seconds, your form hidden, engulphed in Bucky's thick arms. "Look, you can't even see her when tin man hugs her"

"I'll miss you baby" you kissed Bucky's pouty lips, caressing his scruffy cheek before letting him run off, your cheeks heating up when he blew you another kiss before the doors closed.

"You're a little sap" Nat teased while Bucky blushed, strapping on his gear as the engine roared to life, rumbling as they took off. Bucky had 0 shame in everyone knowing how much he loved you and it started from the day he met you. He got called out immediately, questioned over the dopey smile he had on his face, the blush on his cheeks instantly giving him away.

Soon after you'd started dating, Bucky wanted you closer to him and he didn't have to ask Tony twice; his room was moved to a floor above so you'd have more space to live together. The last thing Bucky wanted was for you to get hurt because of his job. He felt more relaxed knowing you were in he safety of the compound on days where he was away.

"Who would've thought Bucky would be the romantic type"

"I did" Steve groaned, having seen Bucky's flirty side for years but he knew this was different. He hadn't seen his bestfriend like this before, clearly in utterly and desperately in love with you.

"It's adorable" Sam laughed while Bucky continued to smile, scrolling through his phone looking at pictures of you. His camera rolled was filled with various images of you baking, cuddling, sleeping, doing the most mundane things in the world, each making his heart flutter. He felt a pang in his chest, momentarily worried about if you were safe without him, the same anxiety he always felt whenever he had to leave you.

-

You stretched across the sofa, sipping on some hot chocolate and putting on your favorite comfort movie, deciding to have a relaxing night to yourself since the compound was empty. You didn't like when Bucky had to leave but you knew it was part of his job, slipping the fuzzy throw blanket over you shoulders before hitting play.

It had hardly been a few minutes before the screen went black making you blink, wondering if you'd sat on the remote by accident. Suddenly the rest of the lights turned off, a blasting sound coming from the entrance before you heard rushed footsteps nearing you.

Your heart started to race, having no time to hide or think, coming face to face with a number of masked men all towering over you. One grabbed you, pulling out a camera and hitting record, shoving it close to your face with a sinister smile.

"Look who we have, soldat"

-

The jet hadn't been flying for long, a sudden beeping alarm from the security system alerting Tony to check the cameras. His eyes grew wide, seeing the Hydra logo take over the screen before switching the live footage from the hacked system.

"Guys! There's been an attack on the compound!" Tony shouted from the computer, everyone rushing to see what came on screen, billows of smoke emitting from the main wing. Suddenly the screen went black, replaced with a man swearing a black mask, walking around the common room.

"Welcome Mr. Stark" His voice was thick with a Russian accent, the video panning to show the other agents infiltrating the tower. "Where is our soldat"

"You stay the fuck away from my girl" Bucky growled, his heart hammering in his chest, nearly crying when he saw someone grab you and shove you into a chair.

"She's precious to you, isn't she. We'll see you soon" he laughed, before the stream cut off leaving Bucky wanting to scream in frustrating, anxiety clouding all his thoughts, just wanting to get back to you to protect you.

"We have to go help her!" Bucky paced up and down while Tony rerouted the jet, speeding back to save you. "How the fuck do I know what's going on, there has to be something" He pleaded, hating that he no longer had eyes on you.

"Hold on, let me get into the back up feed" Tony tapped away at different keys, getting into the security system, selecting the camera for the common room where you were being held. "Here, I got it! I-Holy shit..."

The sound of screaming screeched through the speaker but it wasn't coming from you.

No.

"B-Barnes, you're girl just killed someone with her thighs" Tony stared at the footage with wide eyes while Bucky and the others watching in awe as your legs wrapped around one of the agents' heads, snapping his neck before flipping over and attacking another one of your assailants.

Bucky nearly choked, watching the men drop to the floor like flies, your arms and legs holding onto the men with a vice like grip until they fell, hardly breaking a sweat each time.

"Do you understand how many time's I've been in between those thighs, you're telling me she could've killed me?!!" Bucky practically moaned, seeing you fight, all his anxiety melting into lust, his cock straining against the thick material of his tac suit.

"Jesus Bucky, you're gonna poke an eye out" Sam's face scrunched up while Bucky adjusted himself, biting his lip to keep from making a sound, his tip leaking, breathing out a sigh of relief seeing you perfectly safe.

"Can't help me, look at her. Better count me out for movie night, m'gonna spent the whole night fuckin'-

"Okay, got it, you're a ridiculous, horny, pervert, and y/n probably won't walk for a week, will you please put that away" Sam shook his head, walking away when he tent in Bucky's pants got worse.

"I'm sorry, we've been housing a Hydra killer all this time?" Tony shook his head as the jet landed, still in disbelief over what everyone had just seen, both impressed and 100% scared of what else you were capable of. "You sure know how to pick em' Barnes"

As soon as the jet hit the floor, Bucky was sprinting off into he compound, running to find you, relief flooding his veins when he saw you sipping on your tea, seated on the couch again. You jumped up from your spot, jumping into your boyfriends arms, clinging onto him while the others also entered, glad to see you were okay. They got to work, clearing up the room, rounding up the few agents that were knocked out for questioning while also giving you and Bucky some privacy.

"Babygirl" Bucky hugged you tightly in his arms, burying his face into your neck, inhaling your soft scent, hoisting you up so your legs were wrapped around his waist. "Are you okay doll, are you hurt?"

"I'm fine Bucky" you reassured him, pecking his soft lips, letting him check you over before feeling satisfied you were okay, not finding a scratch on your body.

"Everything okay Buck?" you cocked your head noticing your boyfriends shift in demeanor, his soft baby blue eyes darkening into something else, biting his lip.

"Baby, I had to hold back from pulling my cock out on the jet and touching myself, you know how much that hurt? How hard I was the entire time, struggling not to jet my dick off watching how sexy you looked" He walked you up to your shared bedroom, his erection shamelessly pushing against your clothed core, not bothering to hide it one bit. "Where have you been hiding all that princess"

"Not hiding Bucky, just-never needed to do that" You shrugged shyly, squeezing your thigs around his waist playfully, making him groan as he dropped you on the bed.

"Can't wait to keep my face between these pretty legs that could kill me" He groaned, slicing your clothes off with his pocket knife before diving in without a care in the world, eating you like a man starved, tapping your thighs to wrap around his head.

"C'mon doll, squeeze em'" he moaned, humping against the bed feeling your muscles flex, his eyes rolling back, nearly cumming against the mattress at the strength he could feel, knowing you were holding back from hurting him.

you could kill him if you want.

Fuck, he was going to cum so fast.

-

"Oh god! Bucky!! PLease! D-DOn't STOP"

"That's it gorgeous, so good to me, so fuckin' pretty. won't last baby, gonna cum for you!"

"They're going at it like rabbits, didn't you sound proof their room after the first incident?"

"I did. This is after the sound proofing"

"Gonna fuck your thighs next baby, you got my cock so hard, almost creamed my pants like a teenager watching, you, oh shit-shit-m'so sensitive, keep clenching around my dick, that's it-fuckkk"

"Jesus christ, it's been an hour"

"Did you forget he has the super soldier serum? They're not gonna stop any time soon"

"I'M CUMMING JAMES"

"Gonna fucking cum for you y/n, OH FUCK YESSS you're so sexy when you fight baby, m'gonna fuckin' cum again, I can't stop"

"He's really gonna go all night, isn't he"

"Can you blame him?"

[peacefulofskye]

Yes he is

well - isn’t he fabulous?

[blueberrylovv]

masterlist

@blu3b3rryl0v <- bąckup

the 'think [colour]' series:

#1 green #2 yellow #3 red #4 green #5 brown #6 blue #7 pink #8 orange #9 brown #10 white #11 green #12 orange #13 purple #14 pink #15 green #16 dark red #17 dark purple/black #18 pink #19 orange #20 brown

if you work hard this could be your spring/summer/autumn/winter the vision boards:

2014 tumb|r a lazy day inside and drinking coffee angel (male) autumn basketball girl batman (male) beach trip black swan ballet bucky barnes/winter soldier (male) can't the leaves turn brown faster cat/neko girl chappelł róan vibes coquette (poc) coquette dark academia dark green emo emo boy (male) estern europe nostalgia/smutno mi boże fairy (poc) girls with glasses girl with horses goth green goddess green it girl horror video game protagonist kogal light academia long hair don't care male poc manifesting this for october mcbling mermaid (poc) morute natasha romanoff/black widow pilates princess pink summer punk boy (male) punk rockstar girlfriend sage selfcare day spiderman (male) spiderman #2 (male) strawberry the 2014 tvmbłr grunge tvmblr 2014 twilight vampire white and chrome winter zombie

you can send in requests my inbox is always open

tags for this blog:

#thinkcolour - the 'think [colour]' series #beagossip - for answering asks that aren't board requests (aka just sweet messages or giving ideas/advice/perspective) #beathechef - pictures of my męąls (if you would like the recipe/ingredients just lmk under the post or via inbox id love to share so you can also make it) #beatheyapper - just for random yapping yk as one does #beaboards

[pandagirl45]

XD

Since I like having bucky being romanian and ukrainian descent, just, work with me

Him singing dragostea din tei (Numa numa), while doing a write up on a mission report

Everyone pauses to listen

Clint: hold up, you can actually sing it

Bucky: -_- *points to the flags on his desk*

Tony: clint... you know we are all children of immigrants in some kind of fashion

Clint: well!!! \(○=○)/ >=0

[thugbiscuits]

august fic rec list ! 18+ only

please note: none of these fan fictions were written by me. when you read please make sure to like, comment, and reblog. IT MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE. (i am painfully aware that this is very late for august lol, spare me please this is my first time doing this)

happy reading. i plan on posting/updating each month with a new list :)

joel miller fics

safety first (joel miller x f!reader, smut) @strang3lov3

when i move you move (ballet dad!joel miller x ballet mom! reader, smut) @ghotifishreads

older!boyfriend joel (joel miller x reader, smut) @cavillscurls

older!bf joel miller headcanons (joel miller x reader, smut) @cavillscurls

silverfox! joel miller headcanons (joel miller x reader, smut) @visionsofcarnality

frankie morales fics

arizona | on call series (neighbor!frankie morales x f!reader, fluff and angst) @luxurychristmaspudding

the catfish & the mouse: all pent up & nowhere to go (chubby! frankie morales x pregnant fem!reader, angst and fluff) @beefrobeefcal

logan howlett fics

say yes to heaven (logan howlett x f!reader, fluff) @happy74827

sweetest pie (logan howlett x black fem!reader, smut) @yoditopascal

cupcake (teacher!logan howlett x fem!student! reader, smut) @sinsofsummers

busy signal (logan howlett x fem!reader, smut) @superhoeva

logan howlett headcanons @moeitsu

wrong hole (dark!dom!logan howlett x f!reader, smut) @darnell-la

9:30 pm (logan howlett x fem!reader, fluff) @slushycoookie

deadpool/wade wilson fics

wade wilson letting his guard down around you (wade wilson x reader, fluff) @mercwiththem0uth

deadpool forces you to swallow (deadpool x reader, smut) @ddejavvu

the face behind the mask (deadpool x reader, fluff) @moonxknightx

steve rogers fics

eye of the beholder (bodyguard! steve rogers x reader, fluff) @navybrat817

needy (steve rogers x fem!reader, smut) @bluemoon-fever

bucky barnes fics

red wings (beefy! bucky barnes x fem!reader, smut) @ramp-it-up

welp, that’s all folks! see you next month ;) MWAH -lovey

dividers by @/saradika-graphics <3