#bucky barnes ficlet

[navybrat817]

That's Bucky's face after he asks you if you're Feeling better now, doll? and you croak out "No," glaring at him from your spot on the bathroom counter as you lean against the mirror.

Your thighs are still spread and quivering, your dress rolled up and your panties hanging around your ankle.

You're definitely not better.

You're fucked out. And you kinda want more. But the both of you have to get back to that party and act as if he didn't just fuck your brains out in a fancy restroom.

Bucky bites his lip, trying to stop an obvious smug smirk. He winks at you, then puts the sunglasses back on his nose.

You can see your debauched reflection in them.

THIS IS AN ATTACK! Continued below the cut from my phone. Excuse any mistakes.

“Not feeling any better?” he asked as you closed your thighs. If you didn’t know any better, you would think it disappointed him that there wouldn’t be a round two. “Why was my dick so wet then?”

Because your dick is that good.

“Not about to stroke your ego, Barnes,” you answered instead, the corner of your lip twitching as you tried not to smirk.

He scoffed after a second, his hands strong and steady as he helped you to your feet. “It’s ‘Barnes’ now? I’m hurt, doll. And we both know I’ll fuck you again before the day’s out,” he said as a matter of fact.

You didn’t disagree, a breathless laugh escaping as you finally tore your gaze away. You wanted him to fuck you while those sunglasses stayed on his face. How hot would it be to see your ruined expression in the frames?

“The question is where,” he went on, running his thumb along your bottom lip. You almost sucked the digit into your mouth, but you knew where that would lead. “Maybe the coat closet.”

You laughed again as he crouched down slightly and adjusted your underwear to pull them up your quivering legs. Your shivering didn’t stop when he helped fix your dress next. “I deserve a bit more romance than that,” you said, tugging a little on his chain with your fingers when you wanted to pull on it with your teeth.

“Bathroom’s romantic, but a closet isn’t?”

Barely brushing your lips against his, you smiled. “We had our quickie. Next time you have your cock in me, I want to be able to scream without you covering my mouth.”

Bucky was a smart man. He’d figure something out. Until then, the ache between your legs would get you through the rest of the party.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[mercurial-chuckles]

A/N: This was long overdue, but here’s the masterlist of my 100-word submissions to Yvette’s amazing Flash Fiction Challenge! It sure set the tone for cozy holiday vibes. Thank you, @justagirlinafandomworld ✨ Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner Credits to me. Photo Credits to the internet. Divider credits to @buck-star Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Wish Come True

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Prompt: All I Want for Christmas Is You

Wise Men Say

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader Prompt: I can't help falling in love with you

Unwaveringly Homebound

Pairing: Stucky x F!Reader | Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes Prompt: Home by Blake Shelton and Michael Bublé

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[arathejedi394]

that meme of bucky with the twitter post saying "the winter soldier having flashbacks of gay sex and not knowing why"

“I think I’m gay,” Bucky announces abruptly.

Sam chokes on his beer. Bucky claps him on the back, looking pensively into the dark water. Sam gets a breath, then clears his throat several times before licking his lips.

“What makes you say that?” he asks casually.

“I remember having gay sex,” Bucky answers ponderously. “A lot.”

"A lot?" Sam repeats, now bewildered.

Bucky just nods slowly, his gaze distant. Sam blinks several times, wondering what the hell he's imagining.

“With who?” he demands, looking at him with eyebrows high on his forehead.

Bucky just frowns. “I don’t know. A couple of guys. A big one and a little one.”

Sam looks out at the water, too, mouthing under his breath about how fucking stupid this man can get. Then takes Bucky’s cigarette and drags on it. Bucky snatches it back.

“You’re not a super soldier,” he snaps. “No smoking, kid.”

“Sorry,” Sam replies. “I mean, about – About not remembering… Hm… Oof. That’s, uh, that’s rough, buddy.” He claps Bucky on the shoulder, glancing over his shoulder with a grimace for their friend, the one who was little but now is big and is now retired so he can paint large blue watercolors of some vague masculine figure over and over again, that friend. He faces the water again and blows out his breath. Idiots. Jesus Christ man.

Bucky sighs, wistful, then drags on the cigarette himself. The boat rocks behind them.

“Did I hear you say you remember having gay sex?” Steve calls from behind them.

Bucky glances over his shoulder at him. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “You know anything about that?”

Sam looks at Steve, raising his eyebrows. Steve’s lower lip wobbles for a second and then he just smiles.

“I’m sure you’ll remember,” he then says quietly.

Bucky nods, turning back. Sam drops his jaw at Steve, who just lowers his gaze and sits down on a bench, hands in his lap and head down. Like a kicked puppy. Sam blusters, half gesturing between the two of them, but Steve shoots him a glare and Bucky doesn't notice. Sam looks between the two of them for over a minute, just watching these two idiots standing five feet apart because they’re not gay.

“Okay,” Sam declares, “that’s it! I’ve had it up to HERE with the homoerotic tension on this boat!”

Bucky looks up, frowning. Steve jerks his head up, too, his eyes wide. Sam points with both hands at Steve, but looks at Bucky.

“He knows somethin’ about you being gay for sure!” he snaps. “Frankly, I think he knows more about it than you do! Double frankly! I know that for a mothafuckin' fact!”

Bucky opens his mouth, looking bewildered, then glances between Steve and Sam. “Huh?”

Sam slaps himself in the face with the hand not holding his beer. Bucky frowns at Steve. Steve blushes and looks towards the stern of the boat. Bucky suddenly gasps, jerking a hand up to point.

“I fucked you!” he shouts.

Steve blushes harder, bright red behind his beard, as he look down into his lap, then he nods, seeming speechless.

Sam smacks himself on the forehead again, making a face at their stupidity. Then Bucky shoves his cigarette back into his hand, and he storms right up to Steve and hauls him off the bench by the back of his shirt. Steve squeaks adorably for a man of his large size, but Bucky starts dragging him off the boat.

“Okay?” Sam calls after them as Steve stumbles to keep up with Bucky. “Bye, I guess?”

“Thanks!” Bucky shouts over his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Steve says.

“I’m fucking your face in that alley over there, sweetheart,” Bucky announces. "Then I'm coming all over your beard."

“I did not need to hear that!” Sam shouts back. “Didn’t need to hear that! I expect to be both of y’all’s best man at your wedding! And the officiant! And I’mma give both of y’all away, too!” He turns, then pivots, jabbing his finger in their direction. “And it better be a destination wedding, gay ass dumbasses! I wanna go to Bali!”

Steve waves his middle finger behind him as he skips, eagerly, along behind Bucky down the pier. Sam shakes his head, turns, and puffs on the cigarette again.

“Gay ass dumbasses,” he mutters, “one looks over, the other’s already looking away. My ass.”

[selenocentric]

I know we deserved at least one moment of Steve being vulnerable after CATWS, but the MCU is a coward so...

You know when something big happens which changes your life forever, but you're so overwhelmed by the change, you aren't able to process it until much, much later.

Now, I'm imagining Steve Rogers, who couldn't even properly process Bucky's death before crashing into the Arctic, being forced to live in a new century. Everyone expects him to be stoic and grateful because, well, he is Captain America (the propaganda), and his survival is nothing short of a miracle. And Steve is just existing.

And then, Bucky is back from the dead, and Steve, he is running on pure adrenaline. He knows if he stops to think about it for even a second, he will just stop. And he can't afford that. He needs to make sure Bucky is safe first.

Fast forward, Bucky is with Steve. He is recovering. They both are alive, safe, and with each other. And with no immediate danger, Steve's mind just comes to a halt, and he breaks down. He starts crying. The kind of crying where he is trying to control his sobs and keeps wiping away his tears in attempts to stop them.

And Bucky, who was in front of Steve, freezes for a second. Only for a second, because in the next, he pulls Steve close and tightly holds him in his arms. He knows how much Steve needs this, how much he needs to let it all out, and how much he needs to stop being brave for a second. He keeps whispering reassurances in Steve's ear and runs his hand through Steve's hair. So, who cares if there are tears on Bucky's face? He needs it, too.

And when they sleep at night, their hands are firmly holding the other. Steve's breath still comes up short. Maybe they will talk about it in the morning, maybe they won't. But they know they will have each other, and they can figure the rest of the stuff along the way.

[luna-rainbow]

Bucky’s metal arm has touch sensors. They’ve just never been calibrated properly. The soldier learned only what was important to him on the field, the cold hard metal of a gun and how much pressure to use when pulling the trigger.

Steve notices this, as he helps Bucky settle in to his new life. He sees Bucky touching the soft flannel bedsheets first with his right hand, then with his left hand, brows knitted in deep concentration.

Uncertainly, Steve asks if he doesn’t like it, if it is too warm or too soft—

“Soft,” Bucky picks up the word from Steve’s ramble. He lowers his head and looks at the pastel sheets between his fingers, and repeats. “Soft.”

The cotton tee, the woollen cardigan, the denim pants, the mesh sneakers, he gently rubs each textile between his fingers with both hands. He does the same when in the kitchen, running his fingers lightly over the coarse heads of a cauliflower, the pockmarked rind of an orange, the sharp stalks of rosemary, the glossy skin of a plum.

His vocabulary recovers more with time, and whenever Steve asks how it feels, he can give a few extra words — firm, smooth, hard, sharp, rough. On the occasions he says the word soft, his whole expression relaxes and all the lines soften, and Steve wishes he could swathe the man with everything soft and fluffy just to keep it there.

They sit down to watch TV after dinner. lt’s their ritual. A time when they sit together silently — when Bucky gets used to being in the same physical space, without feeling the pressure to make conversation. It seems silly but Steve has seen the difference it has made, from Bucky wedging himself into the other end of the couch, to now relaxing next to him, their shoulders occasionally brushing as they reach for the crackers on the table.

This has been a particularly long day, Steve having just returned from a 3 day mission where he barely caught a wink. About ten minutes into the soothing documentary about red pandas, he is fast asleep. He wakes to something brushing against his hand, light and tremulous. Then something a little cooler and a lot harder does the same, and he realises what it is.

Bucky snatches his hands back when Steve opens his eyes. He says guiltily, “Sorry.”

Steve reaches out and rests his palm over Bucky’s metal fingers. “How does it feel?”

Bucky searches his face warily, and then he relaxes. Steve feels a light tickle as the small metal plates whir quietly under his hand.

“Soft,” Bucky answers. After a moment, he adds, “Warm.”

Steve threads his fingers through the metal ones, and holds the hand close. After a little while, he feels the metal fingers curl slowly until they rest, ever so gently, against the back of his hand.

“Tingly,” Bucky suddenly says, out of nowhere.

Steve smiles and answers, “Same.” He points to his chest, “Here.”

He can see the concern and confusion as Bucky glances a few times at his ribs.

One day, Bucky will understand what that means. Steve looks down at their linked fingers and runs his thumb along the metal plates, drawing a slight shiver from the man beside him.

This is a good start.

[fizz-pop-thwip]

When Bucky hugged Steve for the first time since he got the serum, they were alone in a tent. They had just got back to the base camp after their miles long walk back from the hydra base and they were both exhausted.

Steve is situating himself around the very nice, fancy tent that he insisted on sharing and Bucky hasn't taken his eyes off him since he saw him from the table he was strapped onto. Steve. Little Steve. Steve who got sick every winter and who's asthma played up every summer. Steve who had been 5'4 and had remained as such since he was 14. Steve who got into too many fights and never won but not once for lack of passion.

Bucky has to say something, because he hasn't been saying anything since escaping the base and now he feels like he's about to boil over. "Steve"

The same big blue eyes he's always known greeted him and were quick to lace with concern. "You okay, Buck?"

And generally speaking no, Bucky was not okay, he'd been experimented on, he'd been taken by the enemy and strapped down to a goddamn table and he couldn't even remember half of what they did to him there.

For all Bucky knows he could drop dead at any moment but he isn't thinking about that, because he's thinking about how Steve is here, in front of him, all 6'2 of him. He's thinking about how the breath exiting his mouth doesn't follow with wheezing, or how he can take the full rib expanding breaths when he needs it without coughing until there are tears forcing themselves out of his eyes.

Bucky steps forward, his hand gently presses against the expanse of Steve's chest. He stops himself from gawking considering the fact you could park an eighteen wheeler on this thing, he even opens his mouth to say just that but then he feels Steve's heart beat, steady and pumping under his palm.

It's only slight considering the amount of muscle and thick bone in the way but he can feel it all the same and it's not stuttering and irregular. It's pumping blood, lots of blood wherever Steve needs it, constantly and in all the right places instead of spending most of its time in the lowest point of the body.

If Steve were to get sick this heart would help him get better instead of having to fight to keep itself working, and his new lungs might get congested but they wouldn't spasm every time he needed a breath of fresh air. Steve won't be laying in bed all winter sick and out of his mind with any and every illness that has always loved making his life a living hell.

Steve is healthy.

And suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Bucky clears his throat and blinks away any escaped liquid from his eyes, which are very pointedly looking towards his hand. Because if he looks up at Steve and sees those blue eyes all concerned, seeing right through him like they always do, he really will loose it.

"You're okay.." He mumbles mostly to himself.

It comes off as a statement more than anything and a choked out one at that but Steve knows, because he always knows what Bucky is trying to get at. He places his hand over Bucky's wrist and just holds him, his hand is steady and must be magical because Bucky grows calm at the touch.

"I'm okay."

Feeling himself falter at the affirmation, he leans in, arms wrapping around the waist he could once circle completely with one arm. But he almost backs out as quickly as he started it, the foreign body giving the wrong signals, like hugging a coworker or a distant relative you see once a decade.

But taking a deep breath to centre himself, Steve smelled like he always did, plus the scent of cheap soap hardly lingering, faded from the long day they both just had.

And when he ran his hands over his back he could feel the familiar humps of his spine and count them all the same. Even Steve's hands find the same spot on Bucky's back as they always used to, where his ribs end and his back start to dip in at the start of his waist.

Bucky can still reach the hair at the base of Steve's head and run his fingers through it like he used to see Steve's ma do when they were young.

Now Steve sighs into the hug and Bucky squeezes tighter since he knows he won't be doing any damage. They stay like that for a long time in their own personal world, the centre of their own solar system, everything else moving around them, floating within their orbit.

When they pull back, Bucky's hands linger on Steve's waist for longer then they should and when he looks up Steve's eyes are so full of admiration but his nose and eyebrows are scrunched up like he's got something to say.

Bucky takes his hands back to his sides. "what?"

"We aren't going to leave each other again, okay?" He says it so sure, like they aren't going to be in the heat of battle every other day but Bucky wants it just as bad as he does so he nods and smiles.

"You're stuck with me pal, I'm not going anywhere"

[wikiangela]

the moments we share stay a secret from the world

ship: sambucky rating: G words: 1.7k spoilers for captain america: brave new world

[also on ao3]

___

As soon as the door closes behind Sam, he slumps against it with a groan. It’s been a long few days. He’s tired, a little bruised and broken, and all he wants is to get in bed and sleep for a week straight. He knows that’s impossible, this job being really a full-time, 24/7 thing, so he’ll take any rest he can get. If he can get to his bedroom, that is – he feels like any energy left him as soon as he stepped foot in his apartment, only now the adrenaline leaving him, worry seeping out now that he knows Joaquin is okay, and all that’s left is pure exhaustion. He could fall asleep right here, at the front door, standing up.

With a deep, heavy sigh that feels like it comes from deep in his soul, he pushes away from the door and forces his legs to take him to the bathroom. He desperately needs a hot shower first.

The walk seems to take forever, and in between the front door and the bathroom, he manages to pull out his phone and shoot a quick text that just reads ‘ur full of shit, could’ve used that serum right about now.’

He doesn’t wait for a response, he doesn’t expect one anyway. They usually text, but at this hour there’s a bigger chance the old man would call instead. He doesn’t wait for that, either. Just tosses his phone on the bed when he walks through the bedroom, then strips out of his clothes and hauls his aching body into the shower. He stands under the hot water for as long as his legs let him, letting it soothe the strained muscles, but careful of all the stitches and wounds. He’s way too used to those by now.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been when he finally leaves the bathroom, just a towel around his waist, dragging his feet on his way to the bed – only to see an unexpected visitor sitting at the end of it. 

“Hey,” Sam says, barely even phased. As unexpected as it is to see Bucky here, it’s not all that surprising at this point. “So we don’t knock anymore?”

“I don’t.” Bucky shrugs, a hint of a smile on his face, as he leans back on his hands, eyes scanning Sam’s half naked body up and down, worry carefully hidden, visible only in his eyes, only to Sam. He looks comfortable as if he was at his own place. He’s not dressed in a suit anymore, now wearing his usual black jeans, and a leather jacket, unzipped to reveal a plain black t-shirt. Some things never change – and not all should, he looks damn good like this. Sam thinks he prefers this version. “And you don’t mind.”

“Hm, well, as long as it’s you and not someone who tries to kill me, break into my place all you want.” Sam waves his hand, walking over to his closet to grab some sweats to sleep in. 

“You don’t have to get dressed on my account.” Bucky says, that flirtatious tone in his voice that Sam hates and loves at the same time. 

“If you want a show, you gotta earn it,” he throws back with a grin over his shoulder, that might come off more as a grimace, with the way his whole body aches. He feels Bucky’s eyes on himself as he shamelessly drops the towel on the floor, grabs some sweatpants and puts them on. 

“Eh, you don’t look so good tonight, I’ll pass.” Bucky teases, the usual humor covering up what he’s not saying, the worry and concern at all the cuts and injuries and bruises all over Sam’s body, the regret about not being there to help. “Seriously, Sam,” Bucky adds, a complete change in tone, “you look awful.”

“Wow, thanks.” Sam rolls his eyes, turning to face Bucky again. He can feel his eyes analyzing all his wounds and bruises. The stab wound in his chest stings, but he ignores it. “I’m fine, Buck. Nothing new, nothing I haven’t survived before. It comes with the job,” he shrugs, one of his shoulders protesting and he can’t hide a wince.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Bucky adds quietly, blue eyes finding Sam’s. 

“Me too.” Sam sighs. “Could’ve really used that super strength of yours,” he adds, trying to keep it light. The truth is, he misses being a team, out there, on the battlefield. He’s never been more in tune with anyone, especially now. They know each other inside out, they can communicate without words, it’s like Bucky lives in his head – which isn’t untrue.

“You did amazing without it. You can do it without it, without me. You know that, right? You don’t need me.”

“Yeah,” he takes a step towards the bed, then another. “Yeah, I know. I’m doing my best.” He might not need Bucky, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want him, as a partner, as a friend, in whatever way he can. But he also knows he’s capable by himself. He has to be. Steve chose him for a reason, and he needs to stop doubting that choice, doubting whether he deserves it. It’s easier said than done, but he’s trying. He did a damn good job today, though, if he says so himself.

“I’ll always have your back.” Buck promises, and Sam knows that. If he could, he’d be there, fighting by his side. He’ll be there if Sam ever needs him. 

“I know.” Sam stops in front of Bucky, whose curious eyes look him up and down again. 

“How’s Torres?”

“Awake. He’ll be okay. I just-”

“Feel guilty?” Bucky guesses. He really knows Sam so well. “Sam, none of what happened was your fault. Including him.”

“I know,” he repeats with a sigh, running a hand over his face. “Hard not to feel that way sometimes.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky nods, understanding better than anyone. They don’t need a lot of words, not right now. They’ll talk, debrief, and discuss everything at some point. Tonight, Sam is just so damn tired.

He climbs into Bucky’s lap, straddling him – he wishes he could say he did it without wincing in pain, but alas. Bucky’s hands immediately rest gently on his hips, gripping lightly but firmly, careful not to hurt him further. Sam knows he’s dying to examine all his wounds and make sure he’s okay, but Sam’s been to the hospital, he’s fine, he doesn’t need him to fuss.

“Now, what did I do to deserve a visit from the future congressman James Buchanan Barnes? It’s a rare sight lately. And twice in two days?” He teases. Bucky rolls his eyes. They haven’t been seeing each other as often as they’d like, both busy with their new jobs, and keeping this relationship private, but they try. Sam would rather have those few moments once in a while than none at all. 

“I meant it, I missed you,” Bucky shrugs, earnest and genuine as he smiles softly. “I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fucking exhausted and beaten up, and I could sleep for a week.” Sam sighs, slumping against Bucky. Bucky’s right hand gently moves up his side, caresses his skin, mindful of his bruised and cracked ribs, until he cradles Sam’s cheek. Sam leans into the touch. “Can you stay the night?”

“Yeah, of course. I don’t have anywhere to be until morning.”

“Good.” Sam whispers, and finally presses his lips to Bucky’s, his hands finding his jacket and helping him out of it. All he wants is to fall asleep in his man’s arms right now, he wants to keep him here as long as he can, until they both need to go back to their roles and titles, and keep their personal life under wraps.

They kiss slowly, lazily, until Sam’s yawn breaks it, and Bucky chuckles, standing up with Sam still in his arms, then gently places him down on the bed – any other night, if Sam wasn’t half asleep and what feels like half-alive, it’d get him going immediately, his boyfriend’s strength always such a turn on. As it is, Sam forces his limbs to work a little bit longer to scoot up the bed and onto the pillow, then waits for Bucky to take off his jeans and join him.

He tries to wrap himself around Bucky, but he can’t breathe on his side, his ribs are not in the best state, cuts and bruises on the rest of his body are hurting. So he settles on his back, as comfortably as he can, and brings Buck as close as possible. Bucky slips his right arm under Sam’s head, the metal of the left one lightly pressing against his abdomen, as Bucky holds him.

“Can you promise me something?” Sam asks sleepily, already starting to nod off.

“What’s that?”

“Can you wake me up when you have to go, no matter what time?” He just wants to say goodbye, he doesn’t want Bucky to just disappear into the night. He could get out without waking Sam up, his stealth skills as impressive as always. But Sam wants to see him, kiss him one more time, watch him leave. Get one more second together.

“Of course, Sam. Now sleep, I’m right here.” Sam feels a soft kiss to his head.

“I love you, Buck.” Sam mutters, blinking as he tries to get one more look at his gorgeous blue eyes.

“I love you, too.” Bucky whispers with one more quick kiss to Sam’s lips.

Sam falls asleep to the sound of Bucky’s breathing, feeling his heartbeat where their chests are pressed together, familiar cool metal fingers drawing soothing patterns on his stomach. He’s out within seconds, feeling calm and safe and loved in the arms of his man, knowing that he’ll get woken up way before sunrise, and he’ll have to say goodbye to him again. That’s okay. He’ll have a busy day tomorrow, as well, back to Captain America duties, having to deal with the aftermath of… this whole mess. But for now, it’s just him and Bucky, in the quiet of the night, sleeping in one bed, like a regular couple. Maybe one day it’ll be the norm for them. If not, he’ll take what he can get. 

[also on ao3]

[sunnysideprincess]

Occasionally I'll have a stray thought and not know what to do with it...so here you go 🫴✨ alpha pre serum steve coming home to a lovely surprise

Tony tastes of something sweet.

Not like the cheap sugary kind.

But rather something slow and delicate, like caramel custard, with a side of blueberries.

The smell hits him when he first steps into the house and his eyes immediately roll up in his head.

He doesn't even realise what's happened until he hears Bucky's voice and Steve has only one hot second to do something about the wet patch in the front of his denim—only one hot second to duck into the powder room and change into another paint stained loose sweats.

Bucky—that damned bastard—still figures it out. He ushers Steve into the dining room, puffs out his chest and shows off the prettiest Omega Steve has ever laid eyes on.

The omega stands in the kitchen, cheeks flushed rosy red and eyes wide, wet with beaded tears. He's wearing Bucky's shirt—the tail of it resting delicately over his thighs where bruises, nice and tender mark his skin.

"This is Steve," Bucky announces. "Steve, Tony. My omega-"

Tony smiles, all devilish mischief and Bucky hastily corrects himself—"our omega".

[late-to-the-party-81]

Delirious Decisions

AN: Thank you for tagging me @mercurial-chuckles in your Delirious Decisions. I’ve kept all the same prompts, but gone with some of my own pair ups. I’ve written a little something for each prompt, some as short as 200 words and some as long as around 900.

Some of my entries are little drabbles for some of my established pairings, but some are new and in fact three are set in Avengers Tower with a new reader insert who is an Avenger of currently unknown skills, nicknamed Pipsqueak by the team because of how short she is.

Ratings vary from G to E, but all are labelled. For some stories I haven’t specified the pairing at the start because I want the end reveal to be a surprise (but none of these stories include smut).

I hope you enjoy.

These are all un-beta’d and dividers are by @firefly-graphics and me.

Masterlist

Cuddle in a storm with 🛏️

Reader x Bucky Barnes. Rated T. Fluff and suggestive language. 230 words.

A gust of wind sent the raindrops hammering against the window, loud enough to startle you from your light doze. The arm around your shoulder tightened and a loving voice crooned in your ear. “It’s just the rain, Doll. Relax.”

You turned your head back into Bucky’s chest, nuzzling against his red henley. “‘M totally relaxed. How long’s i’ ‘posed to last?”

“Well into tomorrow. And we’re not supposed to go outside in it, unless we absolutely have to.”

Somehow you pressed your body even closer to the human furnace that was your boyfriend. “‘M not going anywhere.”

Bucky chuckled. “You’re not going to leave the couch? What are you going to do when I go to bed then?”

You let out a displeased grunt. “‘Kay. The couch or the bed.”

“Good,” he declared, decisively. “Because I would’ve been lonely all on my own.” Without warning he stood up, scooping you up as he did and you squeaked in shock.

“Bucky! Where are we going?”

“I want to go to bed,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But ‘m not tired!”

“I never mentioned sleep, Doll. There’s more things to do in bed than that, as you well know.” He grinned at you and you felt the heat rising up your neck. “Kiss me, sweetheart,” he continued. “Keep me safe from the storm.”

Accidentally send a spicy text to 😳

Reader (Pipsqueak) x ? Rated T. Suggestive themes. 400 words

“Clint!” You really wanted to screech, but part of you recognised you still needed to maintain a modicum of discretion. You came to a skidding halt next to the blonde archer and he took in your distressed state.

“What is it, Pip?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not that short,” you hissed. “And this is an emergency.”

With a raised brow, he hopped up onto the counter. “An emergency, huh? What sort of thing counts as an emergency in your world?”

You resisted the urge to bite out something scathing - that wouldn’t help, given the circumstances. “You know I’ve been seeing this guy, yeah?”

“Nathan, right?”

“Right. So things have been going… alright.” You couldn’t help but wring your hands.

“Only alright? I’m sure you deserve more than ‘alright’, kiddo.”

“Yeah, so that’s what I was trying to do - make it more than ‘alright’, by sending him a message to… you know… let him know…”

“Oh!” Clint’s eyebrows almost shot into his hairline. “You ‘sexted’ him, didn’t you. Didn’t know you had it in you, Pip. But what’s the emergency? Did your ‘freak’ scare him off? If so, he’s not worth it.”

“No… it’s that… Oh God, it’s so embarrassing.” You buried your head in your hands, trying to hide, before blurting out “Isentittothewrongperson.”

His eyes widened even further. You were worried they were going to jump out of their sockets. “Which wrong per- Oh. Oh!” In two seconds flat he’d gone from sharing your worry to falling sideways on the counter in hysterical laughter.

“Don’t laugh!” You smacked him on the thigh with the back of your hand. “What do I do?”

Suddenly a sultry voice sounded from the corridor outside the common room. 

“Kotenok! Where are you? I have some of those things you wanted to try.”

You squeaked and turned on your heel, shooting out the side door, Clint’s laughter still ringing in your ears.

A few moments later, Nat walked into the kitchen and settled on one of the bar stools next to Clint’s mostly horizontal body. “Are you gonna stop laughing?” she asked him. Clint drew in some ragged breaths and sat up, the evidence of his tears of amusement marking his face. “When you stop teasing her. She thinks you really thought the message was for you.”

Nat’s expression morphed into faux shock. “You mean it wasn’t?”

And they both burst out laughing again.

Get stuck in a "there’s only one-bed" scenario with Kiss and some 💋 🥵

Ari and his Angel. Rated M. Suggestive language and fluff. 400+ words

You looked at the bed, a little shocked and, if you were being honest, a little embarrassed. Yes you were a grown up, and did grown up things with other grown ups, but it felt weird that your parents were also aware — and accepting — of that. 

You turned to your mom who was standing in the doorway. “So, umm, are both Ari and I in here?” You side-eyed the queen-sized bed, which had been plenty big enough for you as a teen, but looked very small now when you considered both you and Ari fitting in it together.

“Well,” your mom replied with a hint of mischief in her eye, “unless you can magically create another spare room, or you’re willing to sleep on the sofa — because let’s face it, your boyfriend won’t fit on it — you are, indeed both in here. Just remember, there are other people in this house, and some things ought to stay private.”

Behind your mom you heard Ari cover a snort with a cough, but you couldn’t glare at him without her seeing, so you just smiled and considered the torture you’d be in for tonight.

—----

Ari’s lips kissed a trail across your shoulders, his nose nudging the thin straps of your pajama top to the side. His large body was curled up behind you, a tell-tale hardness poking at your ass.

“Ari, quit it.” You slapped at the arm wrapped around your waist, but both of you knew it was half-hearted. Nonetheless, he stopped his sensual exploration.

“You really mean that, Angel? You want me to lie here, next to you, and not touch you. You want me to torture us both?” God, you could almost hear the pout in his voice. 

“But you heard my mom. She was basically telling us that the walls are like paper. My parents knowing I have sex is bad enough, but them hearing it? I think I’d just die.”

The hand around your waist started to move, drawing light circles on your skin where your top had ridden up. “We’d just have to make sure you’re quiet, then.” He pressed his lips to your shoulder again, just once, leaving the ball in your court. He knew you needed him as much as he craved you. Several heartbeats of silence and then you were turning in his embrace and hooking your leg over his hip.

“I hope you’re ready to be covered in bruises from where I have to bite down to keep myself from crying out.”

He dipped his head and rubbed your noses together. “Angel, I’ll wear them with pride.”

Admire from behind (if you know what I mean) 🍑

There’s only one answer here. A little snippet of the Captain and his Brat. (I love you, then I hate you) Rated M. Mentions of corporal punishment in a D/S relationship. <300 words

Meetings were never your favourite thing - were they anybody’s? - but one thing that made it all worthwhile. Walking out after Steve. It would obviously have been better if he’d been wearing his tac suit, but his tan slacks did sterling service too, highlighting one of his best physical attributes. As he strolled down the corridor ahead of you, going over some of the points of the meeting with Rhodey, you decided to take in the view. God, your fingers itched to grab those two muscular globes and squeeze them. Give them a smack, or even sink your teeth into them. And then, if you did, what would Steve do to chastise you and put you in your place. You felt a rush of arousal pool in your core and you stumbled a bit as you walked. In front of you, you realised the exact moment Steve caught wind of your state, because there was a hitch in his own step and, without breaking his conversation, he glanced back over his shoulder at you and gave you a knowing look. You shivered at the heat contained within it.  

Steve and Rhodey came to a stop outside of the latter’s office, which gave you a chance to slip by them, but as you did, you couldn’t resist it. Careful to make sure no-one else saw, you gave Steve’s right buttock as strong a squeeze as your hand could manage. He let out a little cough as his only reaction, and you smiled to yourself as you continued past, wondering how your Captain would respond, in the name of keeping you in line…

Push down the stairs (Oh, boi😏) 🪜

Reader x Ransom (Yesterday’s Dream, Tomorrow’s Nightmare, Never-ending nightmare) Rated M. Prior kidnap, prior rape, basement wife, non-con collaring, violence. <500 words

All you had to do was wait for your moment. From the moment you’d been brought here, you knew that if you bided your time, then a way of escape would eventually present itself. You’d given up fighting days — weeks — ago. Ransom was going to do what he wanted, and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of breaking you over and over. Making him think that you were weak and resigned to your fate would work in your favour at some point. You had to hold on to that belief. The collar around your neck chaffed, but if your luck held, then it wouldn’t be long until you could discard the hated piece of leather. 

He had been fooled by your act once before, until he’d brought the other man — Ari — who’d seen right through your facade, but after that night you hoped that both men thought you were broken down. Your belief was bolstered by the fact that Ransom had started to let you out of the basement and into the house proper. It was always at night, when he’d sent his housekeeper and chef home, but it still allowed you to get a better idea of your surroundings. This evening he’d decided that he wanted to watch football on the frankly vulgar sized television while you cock-warmed him, first with your mouth and then with your cunt, until he tipped you forward onto the carpet and finished inside you. Now it was time for him to return you to your prison for the night.

You followed him, eyes downcast, as he led you back to the door. When he turned his back to you, so he could unlock the door, your breath caught in your throat, anticipating the right moment. You’d only have one chance. As the basement door was pulled wide, but before Ransom could step away from it, your arms shot out, all of your body weight put behind them. You shoved him. Right between the shoulder blades. The moments stretched into an eternity as you watched him wobble and hoped that it would work. His cry of surprise rent the air and his arms pinwheeled. One hand caught on the door frame, and without a moment’s hesitation you pushed him again, screaming your fury at him.

Ransom’s foot slipped and his balance faltered and in the next instant he was tumbling down, landing at the bottom with a sickening thud which morphed into an unnatural silence. You turned on your heel, running through the house towards the front door. There, on a side table, was a bowl containing car keys. You scooped them up and ran out of the front door. You clicked the remote, trying to identify which car they belonged to — there were several lined up under a carport. Lights flashed in the darkness and you ran towards them and your freedom.

Ruin in the best way possible 😈

I’d say ‘poor Joaquín’, but I don’t think he’s finding it too bad… (Ojos Asi) Rated E. Sexual Content, inc edging and mild bondage. 150+ words

“Dios! Mi sol!” You straddled Joaquín, your hips undulating as you rode him. Beneath you, your boyfriend’s arms strained against the leather cuffs binding his wrists to the headboard. How had you gotten so lucky to have a man like this? A man who looked so beautiful as you took him apart. After securing him, you’d teased his body with your fingers, lips and tongue, taking him into your mouth as he’d arched under your touch. You’d chuckled to yourself when he’d sworn out a litany of Spanish the second time you’d brought him to the edge, but refused to let him tumble over. However, you had promised him that the third time would be the charm. You held onto his thigh and rested your other hand on his chest as you moved, grinning down and taking in the view. Sweat sheened on his skin, his hair was delightfully mussed and his eyes almost black with desire. And you couldn’t wait to do it all again.

Invade the dreams of 💤

Reader x ?. Rated M. Pining, psychic powers, accidental mind invasion, implied smut. <900 words

It had started out as an accident. Your psychic powers were fairly new to you, having only started to manifest, sporadically, in your late teens. However, it hadn’t been more than a minor convenience until about six months back, when you found yourself accidently getting caught up inside other people’s heads. It had been frightening, for both you and the person concerned and you’d had a few close scrapes when some folk had followed up that fear with violence. Luckily for you it had only taken a few calls to SHIELD for someone to take you seriously, and you’d ended up here, in Avengers Tower, where you would have the space and help you needed to get your powers under control.

You’d mainly been working with Wanda and Loki — they were the ones best placed to help you — but you also spent time with all of the others. They were a nice bunch of people, all of them strong but damaged in their own ways. It made you feel as though you belonged. However, with one person in particular, that regard morphed into something else — a big fat crush.

Whenever you saw him, your breath caught in your throat and your heart started to beat that little bit faster. He was so charming. So strong and self-assured. Whenever you were alone you couldn’t help but think about him, wondering how it would feel to be held in his strong arms. To be kissed by his plush lips that always seemed to wear a smile. It therefore wasn’t a surprise to you when you started to dream about him.

Night after night, your subconscious made him the focus of your fantasies. Not all of them were x-rated, but a lot were, and you’d wake in sweat, an ache between your legs. How were you supposed to look at him in the light of day, with all these sordid thoughts spinning in your mind? And when you realised he seemed to be avoiding you, you couldn’t work out if that made it all better or worse. Yes, you didn’t have to see the sparkling blue of his eyes or the way sweat sheened on his muscles when he walked past after spending time in the gym, but a lack of contact during the day seemed to make your mind yearn for him more in the night. Your mentors noticed that you were withdrawn and made gentle enquiries, but how could you tell them the thoughts you were having?

A pounding on your door jerked you out of sleep — out of the latest erotic dream. You wiped your hand down your face before staggering to your feet. It couldn’t have been some massive emergency — FRIDAY would have notified you if it was — but you wondered who could want you at three twenty-seven am on a Wednesday morning.

You pulled the door open with more force than you meant, only to stop as you saw him there. Bare chested, breathing heavily, blonde hair all sleep-mussed and an unignorable tent in his pants. 

Thor.

As soon as he saw you he appeared to change his mind, making to step away without saying a word, until you grasped his wrist in your own small hand.

“Wait! What are you doing here? Why did you wake me?” How were you being so brave? You wanted to hide, to quake in your slippers, but the ache within you seemed to be pulling you forward. Onward.

Immediately he crowded through your door, kicking it shut behind him and cupping your face in his hands.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked, his voice almost cracking from suppressed emotion.

“Doing what?” you replied, confused.

“Invading my dreams, little one. It’s maddening. I think that I have you in my arms and then I wake to find it was just a fantasy. I yearn for you, night after night. I am distracted by it. I need it to either be real or for it to stop. Do you understand? I can’t—”

Your jaw dropped open and your head spun. Had you been meeting Thor night after night in the dream-plane. Differing emotions clashed within you. Guilt at having invaded his mind in such a way, but also hope, because from what he was saying he wanted the reality as much as you did.

“I—” you started suddenly unsure how to answer. How did you tell a literal god that you burned for them? That you wanted them more than could be reasoned?

Thor let out a dejected sigh, apparently taking your silence for rejection. For the second time he made to move away and you were spurred out of your stupor and into action. You threw yourself forward, lurching up onto your toes to throw your arms around his neck and press your lips against his. You couldn’t tell him what you were thinking, but you could show him.

For a heartbeat he didn’t respond, but then his arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed you up against the wall of your room. His lips moved over yours, before his tongue demanded entry. You moaned into his mouth and bucked your hips against him, your dream induced ardour flaring back into life and enabling you to whisper out your need.

“Make it real. Please.” 

Fake a relationship with for drama 🎭

Reader x ? Rated T. Shenanigans. <500 words

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping with him,” Wanda hissed in your ear as you leant against the bar and watched the other Avengers circulating around the ballroom, shaking down the great and good for more donations to Peppers current charity. 

“What’s not to believe,” you responded with a coy smile, not removing your gaze from the object of Wanda’s surprised outrage. “He’s handsome, he’s amusing, he’s got the skills.”

“He’s a murderer!” Wanda’s voice was less of a hiss now, and a few of the people near-by turned at her outburst. It was hard to hold back a grin. 

“Wanda, half the people in this room could be given that same label, depending on your outlook. And it’s not like he was in his right frame of mind.” Sensibly, your friend didn’t respond to that. The pair of you stood in silence a little longer until you downed the last of your drink and firmly placed the glass down. Straightening your spine you strode across the room, coming up behind him and placing your hand on his shoulder, and revelling in the feel of his velvet jacket against your palm.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Three heads turned in your direction, eyes of blue, brown and green. “Would you mind if I stole this one away? I have a hankering for a turn around the dance-floor, and this one is rather nimble on his feet.” Without waiting for a response, you looped your arm through his and drew him away. As you made your way to the space in front of the band, you could feel the incredulous stares of Steve and Tony behind you.

“Darling,” your companion whispered in your ear, “I believe we’re making a scene.” 

It was true, from the corner of your eye you could see people beginning to notice the pair of you. Your left hand went to his shoulder as his right rested on your waist, and your other hands joined together.

“They’re probably wondering if you’re going to corrupt me, or whether I’m going to reform you.” Suredly, Loki began to lead you around in time to the music.

He chuckled, low and silky. “I think it’s entirely possible for both to occur. However, what I can’t understand is how all of the others think you’re this meek and mild goody two-shoes. You’re living for this drama as much as I.” He dipped you, and it was difficult to suppress a full-blown belly laugh. “Minx,” he grinned at you. “How long until we can unsubtly leave and have people think we’re up to no good.”

“After this song, I would think.” You winked at him and he rolled his eyes with all the drama this little show deserved. 

“Careful, little one. I might start to think you really mean all of this.”

You pondered his words and wondered to yourself if that would actually be a bad thing at all….

Team up with for a heist 🕶️

Reader (Pipsqueak) & Clint. Rated G. Hi-jinx, Tower fic, Avengers as family, fluff, Shenanigans. <700 words.

You crept along the hallway behind your partner in crime, excited, but also a little scared. Not that there would be any real, horrific consequences if you got caught. This was all in the name of friendly mischief after all. Still…

You tapped Clint on the shoulder and he turned to face you, questioningly.

“Do you think we’ll get caught?” you sighed. He had his hearing aids in, but signing was far more stealthy when you were trying to sneak up on enhanced folk.

“Not if you stick to the plan. I’ll run interference and you grab the treasure.”

You nodded in agreement, and continued forward. When you reached the open door to the common room, you stopped again, waiting outside as Clint straightened up and strolled in, as if he had no cares in the world.

“Hey fellas!”

Okay, you thought from outside, no Nat or Wanda in there. Good to know.

“Hey, Barton.” The deep voice of Bucky answered, and you knew that if he was there, then…

“How’s it going, Clint?” … Steve was there as well. The two were joined at the hip and it was sickeningly sweet. However, outside of Nat, they were going to be the hardest to sneak past. You just had to trust that Clint could distract them.

“Well,” you heard him say, “it’s a funny story…” That was your queue. The plan was that he would start some long, rambling story that had no real conclusion to it while you snuck in the room and carefully grabbed your prize. Looking around the door frame you could see your heist partner and the muscled backs of two super-soldiers, whose body language still gave off an air of interest. With all the stealth you could muster, you tiptoed into the common room, thankful for the carpet on the floor that muffled your steps. However, you did need to get into the kitchenette, which had a tiled floor. 

Keeping low, you scurried across the open space and ducked down behind the counter. Clint was still droning on about his friend’s cousin’s son who’d found a one-eyed dog cowering behind a dumpster, and when he did an impression of said dog, letting out a mournful howl, you carefully opened the cupboard in front of you. There was your prize! You wanted to clap your hands in glee, but that would have to wait until later. 

It was a moment’s work to pull the cloth bag from your back pocket and you waited for Clint’s next sound-effect to grab what you came here to find. You heard Bucky sigh, loudly and unsubtly, and you waited with baited breath, hoping that Clint could hook him back into the story. The sudden sound of Clint trying to be a bomb seemed to work so you decided to do a grab and dash. Once you rounded the corner, back into the corridor, you sped up into a sprint, before jumping up to grab the vent-duct access door and scrabbling up into your and Clint’s not-so-hidden highway.

You crawled along until you got to the junction that was your current ‘nest’. A soft thunk and a snuffling noise let you know that your charge had woken up.

“Hey, boy.” You reached out and scratched the dirty yellow dog on the top of his head. A few minutes later, Clint appeared by your side, grinning.

“The secret to any lie is to mix in a bit of the truth,” he announced as he reached into the bag beside you and opened the bag of artisan jerky. He pulled out three pieces, passing one to you, shoving another into his mouth and holding the other one out in front of the dog.

“Here you go, Lucky. Some of Bucky and Steve’s personal stash. Full of protein and low on additives.” The animal quickly scoffed it down and started to look around for another piece. The whole bag was empty within a matter of minutes, which was about the same time the three of you heard wails of anguish echoing up into the metal vents.

“Clint! Pip! Where’s my goddamn jerky?”

Friend-zone for life 🛑

Reader (Pipsqueak) & Peter Parker. Rate T. Angst, Unrequited love, friendship, feels. Approx 650 words

“Oh, Peter.” You sighed and gave him a sad smile. The young avenger stood in front of you, his dark hair tamed within an inch of his life with gel, wearing a dress shirt and slacks and holding a slowly wilting bunch of flowers in his hand. It was obvious that he’d heard you griping about your lacklustre love-life and how frustrating it was to be single in the lead up to Valentine’s day, because here he was, standing at your door with the most hopeful look on his face and you were about to break his heart.

“Please hear me out,” he garbled. “I know I’m a bit younger than you, but they say that age is just a number, and it’s not that big of an age gap, and like I’m in my prime and so are you, you know, for umm…” he trailed off as he turned bright pink.

You held back a second sigh — it wouldn’t help — and stepped back from your door to allow him to enter. It wouldn’t do to have this conversation out in the corridor. “Come in. Sit down.”

Peter scurried over to your couch and sat down on the edge of it, his hands holding the bouquet in a death grip. You took a careful seat on the single armchair opposite. “Look, Peter. I’m not going to say I’m not flattered — you’re a good looking young man and you have a lot to commend you — but I’m not what you’re looking for and you’re not what I’m looking for.”

“Oh.” His head dropped and you felt like the scum of the earth. He reminded you of a kicked puppy. “I just thought…”

“I know you did. And let me tell you, when I was your age there is no way I would have approached someone I had a crush on, especially if they were older than me.”

“You’re only nine years older,” he started to argue, but you cut him off with a raised hand.

“Yes, and when you’re my age, nine years older doesn’t mean that much. However, when you’re your age, nine years is a lot. But it’s not even that. I don’t want you thinking you can wait a few years and try again. I don’t want to upset you — I never would, you mean too much to me — but I’ve seen you grow up. I’ve known you since you were fifteen. I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re my friend — my honorary little brother. I’m never going to be able to love you the way you want and the way you deserve.”

Peter seemed to slump even further, making him look even smaller and even younger. And then you heard the sniff.

“This was stupid. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” He suddenly stood up and pressed the heel of his palm to his eye. You turned your head away, trying to give him a semblance of privacy to get himself under control. 

“I’m sorry, too. I hope we can still be friends.”

“Yeah. Friends.” There was a petulant note in his voice, but you couldn’t be mad at him. His emotions were currently in charge. “You can keep the flowers. Or bin them. Whatever.” He dropped them on your coffee table and stalked over to the door, leaving your apartment and letting it bang shut behind him.

Now you let out that sigh, cradling your head in your hands as the emotional anguish washed over you. You peered at the flowers, a few of them now hanging limply on snapped stems.

“FRIDAY,” you called out. “Can you ask Tony to go and find Peter? I think he could do with a friend right now.”

“Sure,” the AI responded. “And would you like me to ask Mr Barton to come to you?”

“Yeah. That would be nice.”

Adopt a pet with 🐾

For this I’ve picked M’Baku and his Sabi-Star ([River Deep] Mountain High). Rated G. Fluff. Approx 350 words.

You pressed yourself to M’Baku’s side, both awed and wary at what was in front of you.

“When I said I wanted a pet to keep me company, I was thinking about something a little more ‘lap’ friendly. Or at least manoeuvrable.”

Your lover laughed beside you, the sound rumbling in his chest as much as it rumbled through the air. “Yes, but here in Wakanda, we don’t do anything by halves. And these animals are well trained and extremely loyal. Better than any dog.”

You looked at him pointedly, still not convinced.

“Ah, Sabi. Come,” he cajoled.  “We must get closer and let them know you. Maybe pet one of the babies?”

You transferred your gaze from him to one of the babies in question. You did have to admit that they were pretty cute, especially when they ran and their ears flapped around. Giving a small nod of assent, you carefully paced forward, concentrating on these animals that were almost entirely unknown to you - outside of textbooks and the odd zoo visit at least.

M’Baku held out his hand in front of him, and you copied his action, moving cautiously, and the baby Rhinoceros huffed at the pair of you, seemingly disappointed that neither of you held some kind of treat. It moved closer, and you held your breath as it snuffled at your robes, still hoping that you hadn’t arrived empty handed. 

Slowly, you reached out your hand and scratched the youngster behind one of its leathery ears and a giggle escaped you. Of all the things you’d experienced here in Wakanda, this was the most surreal. Suddenly, one of the adult rhino’s let out a bellow and the calf’s ears pricked up before it turned on its heels and trotted back over to the rest of the herd.

Behind you, W’Kabi sniggered. “That one is curious, unomdla. He will make a great War Rhino when he is grown. He is not frightened of one thing.”

“Yes,” M’Baku agreed. “Akọni.”

You watched the rhino calf frolic in the grass with the other youngsters, and felt yourself smile as your heart melted.

“Akọni.”

Take on a late-night drive with 🚗

Reader x Lee Bodecker. Rated E. Blowjob, unsafe driving, future sexy time discussed. Approx 250 words.

“Fuck, darlin’! That mouth on you.” The car lurched to the side, before coming back under control.

You pulled off Lee’s cock with a pop and smiled up at him. “Eye’s on the road, Sheriff. You don’t wanna get pulled over for dangerous driving.” You continued to jack him in your spit slicked hand. “You just get us to the look-out safely, and if you manage not to come, then maybe I’ll let you add a little cream to my peach pie.” You gave him a theatrical wink and then resumed your task, licking and slurping all over his shaft before widening your lips over his fat tip. 

You hadn’t planned on giving Lee road-head on the way out to ‘your spot’, but you’d been feeling some kinda way all day, and just couldn’t wait a moment longer to get your hands on him. You loved the way his soft flesh filled your hands. How the weight of him on top of you, spent and sated, made you feel safe and relaxed. And you knew, that even if he did blow in your mouth he wouldn’t leave you unsatisfied — he was good with his mouth and hands and he could keep you warm with those until he recovered. Now that you thought about it, that was feeling like a better idea. You hummed and felt him twitch, then slid your hand down to massage his balls.

It turns out that going for a late-night drive could be fun…

Let them fight your battles (while you swoon) 🛡️

This is definitely Nick Fowler and his spoiled brat (Ice Sculpture, Satin and Lace for my lover). Rated M. Violence, Suggestive language. Approx 450 words.

“Come on, darling. You look like you wanna have some fun.”

You reared back and wrinkled your nose as the guy who’d been pestering you all evening, and been getting subsequently more and more drunk, lurched back into your personal space.

“I do, which is why I came here tonight. With my friends. And why I kept telling you ‘no’. Now take the hint and go away.” This man had been the only blot on your night out with friends, and now he had followed the group of you out of the club. Of course he still didn’t engage the last few brain cells he had left, and his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

“Frigid bitch.”

Instead of being outraged, you rolled your eyes. Now, you could deal with this yourself but it would be far more interesting to watch—

A third hand appeared, gripping your assailant the way he was gripping you, except that this third hand squeezed a lot harder. The man let go of you with a cry and was wrenched away from you with a large amount of force. He staggered, his balance severely impaired, but he wasn’t allowed to fall. Because Nick wasn’t done with him yet.

The drunkard didn’t really know what was going on when the punch landed on the side of his face. His head snapped to the side, but in contrast Nick looked totally unruffled, albeit very angry. God he was magnificent. You pulled your lower lip between your teeth in anticipation, barely noticing the discomfort of your friends at the violence unfolding. Or maybe you just didn’t care.

A second punch followed the first and this time Nick let the man fall, but only so he could follow it up with a violent kick to the ribs, and a stamp to his outstretched hand. He hadn’t even said a word.

Satisfied that the drunken scum wasn’t getting up anytime soon, Nick turned and walked toward you, carelessly wiping away the blood from his knuckles with the handkerchief from his pocket. When he reached you, he cradled your cheek in his palm and you relaxed into it.

“Are you alright, dragostea mea?” His voice was full of concern.

“I’m fine, Nicky. Just need you to take me home.”

“Yes, you need to rest after such a shock.”

You looked up at him, a mix of incredulity and condescension. “No, Nicky, I need you to bend me over and rail me until I cry.”

“Well, who would I be if I denied a lady her wish?”

With a chuckle, you linked your arm through his and let him lead you over to where his car was parked, totally oblivious to the expressions of shock behind you.

Flirt shamelessly with 🌶️

Reader x Tony. Rated M. Sexual Banter, Innuendo, HR nightmare conversations. 550 words.

“You wanted to see me?” You walked into Tony’s office and closed the door behind you. Not because you wanted privacy, per se, but more to stop anyone else overhearing your banter and reporting the pair of you to HR.

Your boss, and friend, looked up from his desk with a big grin on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I always want to see you, Bun-bun.”

You grinned back as you walked closer and perched yourself up on the antique mahogany. “I bet you say that to all the girls, Tone.”

Tony clasped his hand theatrically to his chest. “You wound me, Bunny. As if I would restrict my attention to just your sex. Think of all the disappointed fellas.”

A chuckle bubbled up your throat, but you only indulged it for a moment. You were here for work after all. “So what can I do you for, my Liege?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere… but yes, actual adulting.” Tony rolled his eyes and you resisted the urge to smirk — he was so dramatic. “We — and by ‘we’ I mean ‘you’ — need to chase up Cyber-research on their report into the latest AI automaton, Prosthetics need to feedback on, well, the feedback issues and I need a Non-fat, almond milk, Venti Caramel Frappucino.”

Your left eyebrow rose up into your hairline. “One, what did your last slave die of? And two, I thought you only drank black coffee?”

Tony lent across the desk, getting closer to you as if he had some kind of secret to reveal. “In reverse order, Pepper tells me I ought to have a more varied diet and if you, sweet Rabbit, were my slave, I would definitely have you doing far more interesting, and stimulating things, than chasing reports and picking up coffee. Alas, you are merely my PA. Although I do have an opening for a slave position.”

“Just the one position? You disappoint me, boss. I’d expect you to be far more versatile.”

He shrugged with a facade of nonchalance. “I can be versatile, just ask — actually, no. Don’t ask them. It didn’t end well. Anyway, chop-chop. The quicker you leave, the sooner you come back with my coffee and I can continue to convince you of the benefits of being my personal servant as opposed to my personal assistant.”

You pushed yourself off the desk and smoothed down your skirt. “It’s a good thing I can take all of this in the manner in which it’s meant, Tony. Anyone else would have you watching a disappointed Cap video about sexual harassment.” 

At your comment, Tony pulled a disgusted face and you giggled as you walked towards the door. You took hold of the knob, turned it and were about to make your exit when Tony decided that he had, of course, to have the last word. “If there’s ever anything else you want to take—” he waggled his eyebrows, “— I have privacy glass in this office.” 

You clicked your tongue, flipped him your middle finger and went back to your job, with a shake of your head. Not everyone could handle Tony, but you had to say it made your days that bit more interesting. And who knew, maybe, one day, you’d take him up on his offer.

Tag list: @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796

@christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive,

@goldylions, @nicoline1998enilocin, @king814318, @blackhawkfanatic,

@strawberrylore, @scram1326, @steviebbboi, @endlesstwanted

@galactusdevourerofworlds, @apenny4thots, @crayongirl-linz, @hhiggs

[hurtspideyparker]

For a request how about a fluffy winterhawk doing shopping to refill their first aid kit? I imagine between the two of them it sees a lot of use.

The pair walk at a leisurely pace in the 24 hour CVS.

There's a number of odd characters, including themselves, but that's what they get for shopping at 2 am. There's the goth cashier, a man in an oddly tall cowboy hat, a couple of teenagers messing around in the chip section, and of course the two Avengers with blooming bruises from the fight they just finished. Which is really not their fault. I mean, who does crime after midnight? Bad people, probably.

"Wanna get some ice cream?" Clint asks while tossing some frozen peas into the basket Bucky is carrying.

"I don't think we'll have enough room."

"Come on man, one Ben & Jerry's isn't gonna break the bank."

"One, really? For both of us? You threw a spoon at my head last time I poked in your pint. I just wanted to try the flavour."

Clint thinks on that.

"Hm, you're right, you're right. We'll do a wrap around at the end and I'll just carry it."

They leave the icy doors and head straight for the first aid aisle. They spot the gauze and bandages first, taking a moment to analyze the different brands, sizes, and types, before Clint takes an arm to the shelf and swipes the entire thing into their basket. Bucky nods approvingly before speaking up.

"This is your fault y'know, you procrastinate."

Clint scoffs, "I'll have you know it was your week to do the shopping."

"The first aid kit's been empty since last week, when you sprained your wrist. Remember when you tried using a compression sock as a wrap. Also, you're bleeding on the flyers."

Clint looks down at the paper. That indeed is his blood. Another drop falls from his nose onto the shelf, "oop, my bad." He grabs Bucky's sweatshirt and uses the corner to wipe up the blood.

Bucky rolls his eyes and grabs a box of band-aids off the next shelf.

"Just for that I'm getting you the hello kitty ones," Bucky pulls out an evil looking purple bunny and then tosses the box into the basket.

He peels it open and places the bandage with care over the bridge of the archer's nose.

"Joke's on you, Kuromi fits my colour scheme."

Bucky stares at him blankly for a moment.

"I speak 7 languages and yet I still manage to not understand you in your native one, which is honestly more impressive."

"Why thank you," Clint gives a cocksure smile.

They move along, tossing in some medical tape, 4 types of pain meds in giant bulk containers, and heat packs.

Bucky picks up a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

"Woah man, that stuff isn't right for you anymore. It's all about good ol' soap and water now. Don't you keep up with medical news?"

"No, and I doubt you do." he says with a raised brow.

"Okay fine, Bruce told me, but still."

While Bucky doesn't trust anything Clint finds online, he does trust Bruce Banner, so he puts the bottle down.

"Vaseline's in the beauty aisle, brb."

Clint jogs around the corner and Bucky calls out to his back, "stop saying abbreviations out loud!"

Bucky continues wandering on his own, collecting a few random things into the quickly filling basket.

"Incoming!" Bucky doesn't even react as a jar of Vaseline and some tweezers come flying over the shelving and land perfectly on the pile.

Bucky isn't even in his original spot anymore, how did—nope, not going there. If he asks, he'll just get told "because I'm fucking Hawkeye," with that stupid charming smirk that secretly gives him cuteness aggression.

Bucky Barnes does not get cuteness aggression.

He turns around the corner the same time Clint steps back in front of him.

"Hiya, did you miss me?"

"No," Bucky says, placing a little kiss on Clint's lips.

"Aw, you totally did." Clint fists Bucky's top and pulls him in for another kiss.

The man goes easily, melting into the familiar taste of copper and the sting in his lip from where someone hit him in the face with the butt of their rifle. The stubble is an even more familiar roughness, closer to a tickle. Clint pulls back with a salacious pop, bringing his thumb up to wipe away the spare saliva in the corner of Bucky's mouth.

They hear a strong tone of throat clearing nearby, looking up to see cowboy hat staring at them in disgust with a cart full of dog food.

"Evening sir," Clint waves, then gives a little tip of his imaginary hat. The man just shakes his head then needs moving.

"C'mon, get your ice cream and lets go."

Clint acquiesces, reluctantly pulling away from Bucky's warmth.

After getting the promised ice cream they head straight for the self checkout. The last time they went to a cashier-only pharmacy to restock their first aid they got stared at like they were planning on cutting up the cashier and selling her kidneys (the sewing kit really didn't help), so dumping the pile of gauze away from the employees prying eyes saves them from talking to the cops.

The receipt takes ages to print, Clint grabbing more and more of it like a magician pulling scarves from a hat.

"Babe, will you tie me up with the CVS receipt and do dirty, dirty things to me later?"

Bucky huffs out a laugh and pushes at the other's shoulder, "shut up freak."

Cowboy hat decides to pull up to a nearby checkout just at that very moment, freezing and sending the pair a look like he's personally casting them to the depths of hell.

Clint turns to him, a mischievous smirk that could mean nothing good.

"Sir, would you tie me up with this CVS receipt and—"

Bucky clamps a hand over the man's lips and forcibly drags him out of the building.

[glittercake]

pwp anon here! u got me excited! sending virtual hugs and flowers

This one got spicy, Anon 🌶️❤️‍🔥🔥 The other Sam in Lingerie fics can be found here and here and here. Enjoy!

The gift bag’s just sitting on the counter. If Bucky’s honest, just thinking about what’s inside is making his work slacks real uncomfortable to sit in. 

Spent a pretty penny on it too, but it’s small change, really, when he remembers what Sam looked like that first time.  

He busies himself with the most boring dockets he’s ever laid eyes on just to keep his mind off Sam and his dick, at least until Sam gets home, but it’s all futile. There hasn’t been one goddamn moment since he got his mind back that he hasn’t thought about Sam. Or his dick.

He finally he hears the jingle of Sam’s keys in the door just after eight.

“Yo,” Sam calls out to Bucky like he does every night, stopping to take his jacket off and hanging it up too.

“In the kitchen, sweetheart.” Bucky swivels his chair when Sam enters and takes him into his arms, slots Sam perfectly between his thighs then kisses him. “Hm.” He leans away and opens his eyes to Sam smiling.

“Working?” Sam tucks a strand of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “Thought it was supposed to be date night.” 

“Just got done.” He shuts his laptop and reaches behind him for the gift bag. “And it is. Happy date night or whatever.” 

Sam snorts. “Thanks. What is it?” he arches an eyebrow up at Bucky, probably because the last time Bucky got him a surprise, it was cock ring that looked like his shield. 

“It’s nice, don’t worry,” Bucky laughs.

“Hm.” Sam digs inside and pulls out a handful of crisp white chiffon and straps. “Oh, my god.” He shakes it out to give it some kind of shape, holds it by two straps but it’s still unrecognizable. “Alright, for real. What is this?” 

Bucky grins. “There’s a picture inside the bag. Come on, go put it on for us.”

“Oh, Lord, it comes with instructions?” And there the eyebrow goes again. Bucky just bites his lip and Sam reaches up with one hand to squeeze Bucky’s cheeks together, then kisses the pout it forces his mouth into. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Bucky smacks his ass so hard the clap resounds even through the jeans he’s wearing. “Now where the hell else would I ever want to be, dollface?” He leans back against the counter and watches Sam go. 

Bucky’s fucking achingly hard by the time Sam's got the shower running, so he heads to their bedroom, kicks his shoes off, waits for Sam on the bed, and tries not to touch himself.

Sam takes way too long, but it’s so absolutely worth it when he eventually steps out in Bucky’s gift. “Jesus, this thing's like a maze,” he says, still tugging on a strap when he walks in. 

And fuck. Bucky knew it’d be hot. He knew Sam would look insane in this, but he’s kind of knocked on his ass here. He’s gaping.

What’s really got him isn’t the tiny, tiny bra barely cupping Sam’s tit’s, or the tight garter buckles around his thighs, or the lace choker—God the choker—or the thin white strap around his middle attached to the garters, but a delicate, sheer little panty that only just covers his junk. It looks obscene: that thick bulge confined by just a barely there layer of chiffon. Bucky could slice through it with a glide of his right thumb.

“Goddamn, come here,” he says, but he’s already halfway across the room and dragging Sam against him, hands instantly on the bra.

He feels his way around the soft chiffon, finds Sam’s nipple beneath it, and rubs a little harder until Sam sighs and drops his head back. He looks so pretty like this; Bucky can’t take his eyes off. He kisses his way down Sam’s neck, then leans down to place a kiss on each pec before he sucks a nipple into his mouth through the material.

“Buck,” Sam whispers. He cups the back of Bucky’s head and keeps him there, breathing shallow. 

So Bucky indulges him and keeps sucking, flicking his tongue, even biting a little. When he feels Sam hard against his thigh, he pulls off to kiss him instead, licks in deep until Sam groans and really grinds up against him. 

Bucky laughs quietly. He slips his left hand down to Sam's straining dick in those delicate little panties, fingertips just teasing feather-light over the wetness bleeding through the thin layer of material between them. “You’re making a mess of your gift, sweetheart,” he says low, smiling against Sam’s lips. “Look at this.” 

Sam’s hand comes up to join Bucky’s, and he’s quick and sneaky about getting Bucky’s fingers wrapped around him. He curls his own fingers around Bucky’s and starts guiding his hand into a slow jerk, then he looks down at their hands, at his cock. 

“Fuck,” he says, hips fucking up into it, arm coming around to drag Bucky into a kiss. His mouth’s easy and wet, tongue lapping hungrily, making the sweetest noises. 

Bucky jerks him nice and tight, watches him leak but waits for that tremble in Sam’s body that happens just before he comes and then he pulls his hand away.

Sam gasps, appalled, staring daggers at Bucky. 

“Night’s still long,” Bucky says, smirking at the absolute betrayal on Sam’s face. He takes Sam’s hand and walks them back to the bed. They get rid of his clothes and then he falls back on the bed and tugs Sam down on top of him. 

“Should have known you’d drag this out. How long did you play with that red set for?” Sam gets himself comfortably straddled over Bucky’s lap then takes Bucky’s dick into his hand and starts stroking him off nice and slow.

And Jesus, Bucky sees stars, he sees white lace and see-through fabric that leaves just about nothing to the imagination, tight straps and buckles and little bows. All on Sam’s body, this body on top of him, touching him, grinding down on him.

Bucky’s the luckiest bastard alive, probably. 

Bucky slides his fingers along the garter straps, drags them up to Sam’s hips, and slips them underneath the strap around his middle. Sam’s so hard the chiffon’s hanging on for dear life, soaked through now. His nipples are hard, clearly visible through the sheer fabric. The lace choker around his neck ripples with a swallow. Sweet Jesus.

It’s a goddamn sight—the contrast of all this delicate beauty and Sam’s flexing muscles, the dainty lace, and his roughly healed battle scars. One strap lays neatly over an old stab wound, another skimming the scar left by his recent round of stitches. Soft and unbreakable all at once. 

Bucky yanks Sam down and kisses him as he comes, feels his dick press against the chiffon, against Sam’s, and goes off again before he’s even done.

Sam watches in amusement, a satisfied smirk on his face as Bucky twitches through it with his eyes fixed on the lingerie clinging to Sam’s body. “You’re too easy, baby. All it takes is some sexy underwear, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, pushing up when he's done and flipping them around so Sam lands on his back. He pries open Sam’s thighs and pulls those garter straps to their limits before snapping them back. “Your turn now, sweetheart.” 

And then he’s sliding the panties down and putting his mouth on places that make Sam’s eyes roll to the back of his skull, and Sam doesn’t say another fucking thing except “Hhng.”

[navybrat817]

Hello, sweet Navy! 💙

I had a thought about our sweet knight!Bucky and his princess. What would she do if she caught him sneaking a pretty wild flower in her room, laying it on her pillow? Would she call him out or keep that sweet little moment to herself? 🥺

I love them!

AHH! I love this so much. ❤️

For a man of Bucky's size, it's amazing how he can move around so quietly. It's one of the things that makes him such a great knight for you. Stealthy, quick, lethal, it's almost easy for him to eliminate anyone threatening you. That stealth also makes it easy for him to slip in and out of your room.

He waits until you're in the bathroom before he goes in, lightly moving across the room to place the flower on your pillow. His mother told him the best kind of flowers for loved ones were given just because. And that was just it. Today wasn't a special occasion or a holiday. He merely saw it and thought of you.

Vibrant and beautiful.

He smiles to himself before he feels someone watching him. Not just anyone. He knows the weight of that look. It's from his princess.

You don't speak when you step out of the bathroom and meet his gaze. Neither does he. You do, however, give him a kind smile. One that makes his heart beat faster in his chest.

Without breaking eye contact, he wordlessly bows before he leaves as swiftly as he entered. There's no need for him to make a big deal or spectacle over giving you something so simple. It's just a pretty flower.

Except it isn't. Not to you.

He somehow isn't surprised when he sees the similar wildflowers in a vase later at lunch, but he is touched. They had never been in the palace before today. His gaze remains on you as you select a flower and bring it close to inhale the sweet scent. He watches as you cut the stem with a knife and ignore a few looks since that wasn't exactly etiquette, which almost makes him smile.

You're as bold as the flower he gave you.

What he doesn't expect is for you to stand and go to him, so he holds his breath as you get close. A moment passes as you look into his eyes and tuck the flower into his left breast pocket. He swears he sees love in your stare. You turn and go back to your seat as he touches his pocket with care, as if you hadn't affected him in the slightest. He knows he'll have the flower pressed so he can keep it forever.

You plan to do the same with yours.

And maybe, just maybe, if he can one day marry you, those will be the same flowers at your wedding.

*****

Love and thanks! ❤️

[mercurial-chuckles]

Thanks for the reblog ☺️ 🥰 😘

Sappy Sunday Thought!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Warnings: Sap | Overloaded fluff | Language | Bucky being such a little shit Word Count: ~500 A/N: My hubby and I went to a friend’s house for dinner. They have a three-year-old boy who is absolutely adorable. When I knelt down to greet him with our usual high-five and fist bump, he blushed and shyly looked away. They told me the little guy has a massive crush on me! He talks about me all day, asking when I’ll come over and waiting eagerly. My poor heart! 😍💕🥹🫠 Even on his dad’s birthday recently, he apparently asked when my birthday was. It completely melted my heart. So darn cute! Not to mention, my hubby playfully glared at him and told him he couldn’t marry me because I belong to him. The poor kid almost cried, and it took both me and his parents to pacify him afterward! The whole ordeal sparked a little blurb idea for me! 💕🤭 Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! GIF credits to @upcomingactress Divider credits to @buck-star Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

Indulge Away!

"Stop it, Bucky," you warned, pulling the tiny form of Ethan away from your husband's arms.

"Hey," Bucky snickered, swatting your arm away from the kid playfully.

"NO. NO," Ethan yelled, clinging tightly to your knee, making everyone around you laugh.

"Oh, now you're just being mean, boy. Leave her alone. She's mine," Bucky said, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

"MAMAAAA!" Ethan shouted, his voice surprisingly loud for a three-year-old.

"It's okay, baby. Uncle Bucky is only joking," Pepper cooed from the other end of the living room, gently fixing Morgan's hair.

"Yes, Ethan, Uncle Bucky's just having fun. Right, Bucky?" you asked, throwing a warning glance his way. All your husband did was shrug and flash you a bright smile.

"No, I'm not. You can't have her, Ethan. That's that," Bucky whispered, further aggravating Ethan’s plight. You responded with a not-so-light punch to his right bicep, but he only chuckled, leaning closer to kiss your cheek.

Ethan was on the verge of wailing, so you turned, picked him up, and sat him on your other side. Tony approached, leaning down to meet his son's eyes.

"You’ve got no chill, Bucky," you muttered over your shoulder.

"Tell you what," Tony began, drawing Ethan’s attention. "We can always get Beebee to fight Uncle Bucky and keep her with us," he said. Ethan instantly brightened and looked to you for confirmation.

"Sounds good to me," you whispered to Ethan, earning an enthusiastic fist bump from the now-happy toddler.

"Now, who in the world is Beebee, Stark?" Bucky asked, frowning.

"Let’s not tell him, yeah?" Tony replied, winking at Ethan as he lifted him into his arms. "Keep watching over your shoulder, buddy," Tony added, walking away.

"Buddy, Beebee’s comin’," Ethan echoed over Tony's shoulder in his adorable little voice.

You turned to Bucky, giggling at his half-exasperated, half-stunned expression.

"Seriously? I can’t have you roaming outside our home with a STARK-LEVEL PROBLEM," Bucky groaned, emphasizing the last part as he shouted after Tony and Ethan.

Leaning in, Bucky pecked your lips and whispered, "What the fuck is Beebee?"

"It’s the giant bot Tony’s been working on," you replied.

Bucky rolled his eyes, scoffing at the idea of a massive robot chasing him off just so Tony’s son could kidnap you.

"I’d like to see it try," he muttered.

What do ya think?

Phew! Phew! Feels good to finish something while I'm working on all the amazing asks simultaneously.

If you took the time to read, thank you! Reblogs and Comments would fill me with joy! Leave me some love, if you will—that's the best way to fuel my thoughts!

This is a part of ♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

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[arathejedi394]

"Where is whomst's bitch?"

"D'OOF!" Sam bellows as he's crashed into full-speed by one frantic White Wolf.

"Sorry!" Barnes says, quickly righting Sam before he can fall over. "Where's my bitch?"

"He's --" Sam starts as he lifts a hand to point, and then his brain processes the words that had just come out of Barnes's mouth. "Wait -- Your what?"

"I meant Steve," Barnes snaps with a jerking shake of his head and a metal hand, looking confused himself. "What did I say?"

"You said 'Where's my bitch?'" Sam repeats, dumbfounded.

"Oh," Barnes says, his ears abruptly flushing red. "Whoops. Force of habit. Where is he?"

"Force of what?" Sam demands to know further.

Clint, having just finished putting his hearing aids back in, taps on Barnes's shoulder. "Did you call Steve a bitch?"

"Where the fuck is he?" Barnes snaps again.

Clint and Sam both point down the South Green hallway of the ER, opening their mouths to say, at the same time: "23A."

"Thanks," Barnes says, briefly clapping Sam on the shoulder before jogging down the hallway.

Sam and Clint turn, simultaneously, to face each other.

"He said 'Where's my bitch?'" Sam repeats in a question.

"Did he?" Clint asks.

Tony walks up, slurping loudly on his slushie. "What did I miss?"

"Cap's a bitch," Clint says.

"He's Barnes's bitch," Sam adds.

Tony blinks several times, then looks down at his slushie. "Did I put acid in this or something and forget?"

"Okay, that raises more questions than Steve being anyone's bitch let alone the Winter Soldier's," Sam declares. "Far more concerning questions."

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Barnes's voice suddenly echoes through the hospital.

"I don't think there's acid in your slurpee," Clint says quickly, "Barnes really did call Cap his bitch."

Tony slurps harder on his cherry red slushie, frowning. "No, no, there's acid in here."

"DUDE!" Sam bellows once more.

[shamrockqueen]

Naughty excerpt

Pairing : Bucky X Reader PWP

Warnings : R18, Smut, immediate Smut, painful teasing, short work

Word count : 723

- It was something quick I made today inspired by this post by @buckybarnesbestdoll

His hips rocked up, shucking his cock through your weak core, tearing through you to slam at the back of your cunt. It made you shake in his arms as they snaked over your body. You try to hold his gaze, only to catch it lingering between your legs, drinking in the sight of his member sinking into your wet folds. He dragged himself back out as he lifted your hips, all before meeting them again with a shallow thrust of his own.

The fingers on his cold hand dug into your skin, the metal plates of his wide palm pinching around your weak little throat. He kept your gaze locked on his dark reflection in the mirror ahead of you. His dangerous blue eyes stared back, making the blood freeze in your body like cracked ice against your skin.

The warm fingers of his other hand drew heat from your lower body as he dug at your throbbing bud. He had you squirming in his cock, deeply seated in your tight, warm channel. Your inner walls still stung from his initial intrusion, leaving you weak and horribly sensitive.

His voice dragged along your ear, pricking your ears along with the rough texture of his beard.

“You see what I see, doll?”

You winced as his thumb pressed harder on your aching pearl before backing over it. He didn’t wait for an answer, tightening his metal fingers around that delicate windpipe as he spoke again.

“My greedy…”

He pressed these fingers back down, delighting in the sight of your legs twitching, but even more so in the tears welling in your eyes as you struggled to match his gaze through the mirror.

“…needy..”

He kept grinding that deep and heavy voice along your ear as he rolled his hips from below. Your thighs pulled further apart, and you had to try and grit your teeth to keep from breaking apart in his tight embrace.

“..DESPERATE SLUT.”

You couldn’t take it. You cried out as loudly as his grip had allowed, shutting your eyes as a wave of hard pleasure wracked your little body. He could feel that you’d pull apart at any second, but not the way he wanted you to.

Those fingers left your neck for a second to lock around your jaw, jerking your face back in view of the mirror. It forces your eyes back open in shock, and with air rushing back into your lungs, you take in the full picture of what was reflected back at you.

Your hip joints were pulled so that he could spread your legs for the mirror—a little show of his own making. It painted a painful picture across the glass, beautiful and tear-stained.

He yelled at you this time, righting his arms around your body before standing with you solely in his hold. Your feet dangled over the floor, leaving your body bent as his hands and cock tore through your flower and bud. He lifted your back up to the mirror, where his eyes could lock with yours.

“Keep those eyes on me when I make you cum.”

You can barely muster any words before he hammers himself through your quacking inner walls. His strong legs could be seen flexing in his reflection as they held you both upright. You could only lock your fingers around his solid arms as he voiced you on his thick cock, breaking that tightly wound knot still wound around your belly until it finally snapped as the rough drag of his calloused fingers.

His eyes never left yours, even as they blurred with hot tears before clearing back over as they spilled down your cheeks. You watched, mind nearly melted, as his cock pistoned through your open core. You feel the warm brush of his ragged breath fanning across your wet chin, all as you watch his face pinch and his teeth grind together.

His cock seized, the slam of his hips stuttering as he spilled into you. You were momentarily readjusted in his arms as he held himself inside you.

He released his hold on your throat, choosing instead to carefully guide his metal fingers along your body before circling over your waist to better hold you up. Your feet still never reached the ground, but you wouldn’t have been able to stand anyway.

[luna-rainbow]

Do you think the Winter Soldier ever stood by the window of the jets bringing him back to Siberia and watched the Northern Lights weave across the starry skies, casting their ethereal colours over snowy peaks that had always been such grim shades of grey, white and black?

Do you think he’d turn to his side, wanting to show it to someone, someone who liked pretty lights and colours and pigments, who could tell him if the ribbons of light were scarlet, crimson or carmine?

Do you think he’d glance around the faces in the jet and frown, not finding who he was looking for? And then he would wonder who he was looking for. Did they exist or did he dream them up in his long cold sleeps?

He’d turn back to watch the dancing lights, ephemeral, intangible, just like the snatches of broken images of a blond head and a metal shield and a gloved hand, always just out of his reach.

What was his name?

—

Source: (1) (2)