#bucky barnes ficlet

[navybrat817]

I’m just gonna drop a little gift here…

LOOK AT HIM SO FUCKING GORGEOUS AND HOT AND 😩😩😩😩😩

Ok love you byeeeee✌🏻

LOOK AT HIM. I say nothing is perfect and then he comes along. And are we getting a glimpse inside of Smartie's mind?

Daddy? Sorry.

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: Over 760 Warnings: Discussion of Bucky being d-addy. Hehe.

A/N: Stud and Smartie nonsense. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

"You know what I don't get? The 'Daddy? Sorry.' thing," you told Natasha as you waited for Bucky to join you at the cafe for lunch. It was a beautiful day to sit outside. "Is it bad that I don't get it?"

"Not bad," Natasha replied, cocking an eyebrow at you and not questioning the out of the blue topic. "But what exactly are you not getting?"

"I guess calling a guy 'Daddy'," you shrugged, adding air quotes for good measure. "I've never done it."

"So, you haven't called Bucky 'Daddy'?" she smirked.

“No, I haven’t. I just said I haven’t called anyone that,” you said, holding your chin high when her expression didn’t change.

If there was one thing you appreciated about Natasha, she never made you feel dumb or embarrassed for any candid discussions you had with her. Even when she teased you, it was all in good fun. Bucky liked that the two of you became friends, though he preferred to be your main confidant. You felt the same way about him.

“But he isn’t just anyone.”

“I know,” you smiled, glancing around to see if he arrived yet. “He’s special.”

My future husband. I just know it.

“And you’re special to him, too. Can’t have Stud without Smartie,” the redhead said as you smiled more. It was nice to hear that. “Okay. In your mind, how would you describe a Daddy?”

You snorted a bit because you couldn’t believe this was where the conversation went. Well, you brought it up. You should’ve known your friend would ask questions. She did have a way of getting people to talk.

“Besides handsome?” you asked, getting a nod in agreement. You had to think about it before you continued. “I guess someone protective and maybe a bit dominant? Not in a controlling way, but in a ‘I want to take care of you’ kind of way.”

Bucky was the most protective person you knew. It wasn’t just physically standing up for you if he felt the need to step in and defend you. He cared about your mental well-being and feelings. And while he didn’t mind you taking the lead, he was very much the more dominant of the two of you. No matter what, you knew you were his number one priority in and out of bed.

“Go on,” she urged, taking a sip as she kept her neutral gaze on you.

A small smile touched your lips as you adjusted the hoodie you were wearing. It was Bucky’s, of course. “And I guess it can be playful and affectionate, like I want to tease him. Can you imagine if I called him that in front of everyone?” you asked, giggling as you pictured a couple of expressions he might give you from hearing the nickname. “But it’s also vulnerable, in a way, because it might sound awkward if I say it and he may not like it. What matters is that I trusted him enough to say it though and he might like it.”

I trust him to tell me the truth.

“Why do you think he’d like it?”

You looked at her without an ounce of shame. “Because it's that extra bit of assurance that I’m his.”

But it also says he’s mine, right?

Natasha gave you a rare wide smile. “Sounds like you understand it just fine.”

As if he sensed the two of you were discussing him, Bucky came into view. If your friend heard you whimper, she kindly didn’t call you out on it. Maybe she was used to you gazing at Bucky Barnes like he was a work of art that you had the privilege to touch.

Your brain tried to tell your eyes to quit looking at him like a creep, but you didn’t blink. You just stared at your man and tried not to drool as you took in his tight blue sweater and pulled back hair. His stance and size screamed “power” and you suddenly wished he’d bend you over the table and take you right there. There was also a softness about him that made you want to burrow in his arms and never leave.

Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. OH. I fucking get it now. Is this a new kink unlocked? Wait, is it a kink?

“Call him ‘Daddy’ and I’ll pay for lunch,” Natasha offered as Bucky spotted you both and headed to the table.

“That’s a conversation for Daddy and I to have first,” you joked.

And knowing Bucky, he’d be happy with whatever you called him.

How do we think he'd react? Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

[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"

[arathejedi394]

tiny crack fic

"Your mother's name was Sarah," Barnes croaks. "You used to wear newspapers in your shoes."

"Okay," Steve whispers.

"Hold up!" Sam cuts in. "He knows your mom's name and that you used to wear newspapers in your shoes? And that's enough? Everybody knows those things!"

"He was my punk," Barnes then adds. "I was his wolf."

"Bucky!" Steve gasps, shocked for some reason.

"Huh?" Sam says.

"What?" Barnes asks of Steve. "It don't mean the same thing now as it used to!"

"You can't just say that!" Steve insists.

"What?" Sam pushes.

"Nothing," Steve insists.

"Used to mean whore," Barnes says.

"Bucky!" Steve gasps again.

"What?" Barnes answers.

"What," Sam responds. He blinks several times. "What."

"Whore," Barnes confirms. "A queer boy for rent, yannow."

"RENT?" Sam bursts out. "What the hell! What's a wolf then!"

"Used to be a punk's pimp," Barnes adds.

Sam gawks at Steve. Steve is blushing very hard.

"Had to gag you when I made love to you, too," Barnes adds. "You'd scream your pretty lungs out if you could."

"Okay, that's enough," Sam decides with a wave of his hand. "You shut up."

"Don't be homophobic," Barnes scolds.

"I'm getting a divorce," Steve sighs.

"You can't divorce me, I'm legally dead," Barnes answers.

"Huh?" Sam whispers.

"I'll divorce you if I want," Steve counters.

"You -- you can't be legally married," Sam says.

"Only sorta," Bucky says. "Dressed him up in a wedding gown and a veil back in 1935, used fake papers, hitched him up good."

Sam leaves.

[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

[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.

[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.

[andie-chr]

Winterhawk, right? But with the premise of “if I was easy to kill, you would’ve done it already.” in their relationship. But let’s take it with the song Hunter by Paris Paloma and its literal meaning.

In the song, both the hunter and beast have ample opportunities and ample reasons to kill each other but they don’t. Because of a change of heart but also because they see each other in one another. It’s not that the predator or the hunter can’t kill each other — they just don’t wish to.

Imagine that with WinterHawk. Around the same time Clint is still brainwashed and killing people, Bucky is still the Winter Soldier. Imagine they come across each other, they’ve been hired against each other because one keeps getting in the way of the other’s assassinations.

But they see each other in one another. Clint can relate to the loneliness, to not feeling like you have any bodily autonomy, to bring trapped in your own head and not being able to control your body. Bucky sees that, and they find an unlikely companionship in each other. One that causes both of them to spare each other’s lives and walk away. To make one decision that somehow managed to break the mind control they were under for just a bit.

[1heartfanfics]

If you're still taking requests, I love how you write Steve and Bucky. Could I get Steve with an upset stomach that wakes him up with soft protective Bucky? You are amazing!

The clock reads 4:02 when Steve wakes up. He's still half asleep and isn't really sure why he's woken up. So he closes his eyes to hopefully get a few more hours before he needs to be up.

He rolls over onto his stomach to try and get comfortable, but quickly realizes what woke him up in the first place. His stomach groans in protest to the pressure being put on it, feeling full and tight. Steve rolls back onto his side, bringing a hand up to rest on his stomach. It's bloated out against the waistband of his boxers. He presses a hand into his abdomen, feeling full of air and hoping to relieve some pressure, but instead it only makes him feel vaguely nauseous.

Stifling a groan to avoid waking Bucky up, he pushes himself up to sit, leaning back against the wall with a protective hand resting over his upset stomach. He rubs his hand gently back and forth, hoping to sooth the churning.

"Stevie?" Bucky's voice rings out a moment later, voice deep with sleep.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Steve sighs.

"You didn't. What's wrong?" Bucky asks, forcing himself awake. He moves to sit up next to Steve.

"I'm fine Buck, go back to sleep," Steve shakes his head, waving him off.

"No, you're not. Just talk to me," Bucky presses. Steve doesn't have to answer though, because as Bucky wakes up more he notices Steve's hand resting on his stomach and the way his lips are pressed tightly together. "Stomach bothering you?" he asks, although he already knows the answer.

Steve sighs, shrugs. No use lying about it now, he supposes. "Yeah, woke me up," he shrugs again.

"You feeling queasy?" Bucky asks, even though he knows the answer to that too.

"Kinda," Steve admits, noticeably keeping his answers short.

"Well c'mere then doll," Bucky says, patting the space between his legs.

Steve stiffly scoots himself over to rest in between Bucky's legs, leaned back against his chest. Bucky wraps his arm around Steve's waist to rest a hand on his stomach, wincing as he feels how bloated he is.

"Buck-" Steve starts to protest.

"Shh, let me," Bucky cuts him off, starting to rub gentle circles over Steve's belly with his warm hand.

Steve goes quiet, sinking further into Bucky's embrace. Buck had always had magic hands. His stomach was starting to calm slightly already.

"Feeling any better?" Bucky asks a few minutes later.

"Hmm, yeah some," Steve hums, slowly being lulled back to sleep.

"Go back to sleep darling, I got ya," Bucky says softly, pressing a kiss into Steve's hair. So Steve lets himself drift back to sleep in Bucky's arms, feeling warm and loved.

[navybrat817]

*knock* * knock*

a gift 💝

And what a beautiful gift it is! 🥰

Take the Edge Off

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: Almost 550

Warnings: Bucky Barnes, E.S.C., slight -br*eeding, written on my phone.

Bucky tried to concentrate on the conversation going on around him. He really did. But how could he when he knew you were waiting for him? How could he not count down the seconds until he was back with you?

Until he was inside you again?

Like he had been hours before. 

"This is your fault, doll," Bucky groaned as he stretched over you, chuckling darkly in your ear when you tried and failed to shake your head. "Bending over in front of me like that. Practically begged me to slide my dick home, didn't you?"

You cried out with every forceful movement of his hips, possessiveness flowing through his veins as you clutched the sheets. He was the one who told you not to wear underwear. You were being good by complying to his wishes. Naturally he had to use it against you. 

Which was why you found yourself facedown and ass up in your bed while Bucky nearly pummeled your insides. 

He chuckled again as he put a hand to the back of your neck and leaned up to pound into you with hard, deep strokes. "You're gonna take everything I give you. Gonna fill your pretty pussy up. Make you round and full of me," he promised, moaning when your walls fluttered around him. 

"Bucky," you moaned, nearly drooling on the sheets when he fucked you harder. The bedframe smacked the wall, adding to the sounds of pleasure the two of you let out. "I-"

"If you can still say anything besides my name, I'm not doing this right," he snarled, slipping his other hand between your legs to rub your clit. His touch had you clamping around him, ready to fall over the precipice. "You're gonna milk my cock 'til I leak out of you. And you're gonna beg for me to do it all over again tonight. Do you understand me?"

You whimpered his name as he smirked. The way you clenched around him and tried to push your hips back, you needed your release. He was the only one who could give it to you. And he'd paint your insides with every drop of himself the way you deserved. 

"You can take me. I know you can," he praised, bending over you once again to press a kiss to your warm neck. "Now keep my dick nice and wet. Give it to me. Come."

You reached back to grab his hair as you moaned with your release, the dark strands twisting in your fingers as your cunt got overwhelmingly tight. He didn't let up as you trembled, keeping your body pinned beneath him to chase his own end. He wished he fucked you in front of the mirror to see your blissed out expression, but there was time for that later. 

"Good. Fucking. Girl. Take it."

You moaned again when he filled you to the brim as promised, your walls still pulsing as he branded you as his. 

"That was to take the edge off until I get back," he panted, brushing his lips against your temple. 

Blinking, he realized he missed the question directed his way. He didn't care. All that mattered to him was you, waiting at home for him to take you apart all over again. 

Love and thanks! 💙

[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)

[tllgrrl]

It’s All Greek To Me by @tllgrrl aka nefertiri jones

Relationships: Bucky Barnes / Sarah Wilson | Rated: SFW | 500 words

* * * * * * * * * *

Sarah was standing on the deck of the Paul and Darlene looking out over the water, the sun just about set.

It had been a long, busy day.

The crew had cleaned up hours ago, going home, leaving everything ready for the next day’s work.

It was quiet save for the night sounds of the Delta and the docks.

Bucky walked up behind her, but not so quietly because before she felt his arms around her waist, and his chest against her back, she heard:

”Sarah…”

The same way he said it the first day they met, right here on the dock, when he’d introduced himself, she replied “I’m Sarah”, and he repeated her name like he was actually saying:

It’s always been you. Always.

He nuzzles her neck and she hums her appreciation, then he takes one of her hands, spins her around to face him, she puts her arms over his shoulders, he pulls her closer, and he lightly kisses her mouth.

His hands gently caress her, roam up and down her back, gently press her into him, and he deepens the kiss.

He hears her softly moan from the back of her throat, feels her body relax as she shifts her weight and her back ever so slightly arches.

He feels her heartbeat.

She feels his heartbeat as his hands make a trail down her back, stop at the small of her back, and his left hand slides onto her ass.

He softly moans from the back of his throat, gently but firmly pressing her hips against his.

His hands revel at the feel of flesh and muscle under denim.

She feels the warm fingers of his right hand slide under the waistband of her jeans.

She feels his chest as he deeply inhales.

His fingers run over her smooth skin, and the fabric of lacy panties.

He sighs, and semi-consciously he murmurs into her ear, “Écheis ómorfous gloutoús…”, and he goes in for another kiss.

“Mmmmm…wait. James…did you just…was that Greek? You just said something about my ass…in Greek?” Sarah said, giggling.

Still lost in the kiss, Bucky murmured, “Just one of the languages running around in my brain. Languages somehow never got completely wiped—“

He pulls his head back, chuckles, and with a big smile, he asks her:

“Xereis na milas ellinika? You…do you speak Greek??”

“No! But you said something about “gloutoús”, and I’ve heard that word before.

Remind me some day to tell you about that time we were chartered by a group of tourist from Greece.”

“I will. Come’ere, you…”

And with that, he recaptures her mouth and they once again become lost in breathlessly exploring the taste and feel of each others’ kisses.

They come up for air, hold each other, foreheads touching, and just before he suggests they turn in for the night, below decks, to the waiting makeshift bed…

“Sarah?”

“James?”

“Tell me about that time there was a group of tourists from Greece...”

* * * * * * * * * *

4th Annual @fleurdelouvemonth 2024 - SarahBucky Bingo

Row 1, Square 2 - “Dusk”. The story is from 2022, but I decided to revisit the story and do a moodboard for the event.

[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.”

[siancore]

🥺

Thank you for the Ask! Went for humor instead of angst this time. Enjoy!

“I’m comin’ with you.”

Sam let out a sigh upon hearing Bucky’s voice. It was going to be one of those days, apparently. Torres gave both Sam and Bucky an awkward look and left the pair alone in the changeroom. 

“Oh, hey Buck. Long time, no see. How’s it goin’ with your super-secret super-people team?” said Sam as he rolled his eyes and began to walk away. 

“Sam.”

“Go back to your day job, Bucky and stop bothering me at mine. We spoke about you showing up like this. Things are different now.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Sam stopped in his tracks, let out a long-suffering sigh, and said, “What’re you doing here, man? This can’t be authorized. Since when do you guys get furlough?”

“I heard about this mission,” said Bucky, as if that explained everything. 

“You heard about my undercover mission? The mission I’m pretending to be on a date with some rando from Grindr who may or may not have intel on the lead me and Torres are following up?”

“Yeah,” said Bucky, staring straight into Sam’s eyes. “That date – I mean, that mission.”

Sam narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest; Bucky tracked the action and then licked his lips. 

“It’s not even a dangerous mission,” Sam supplied.

“You need back-up, Sam.”

“I got Torres and Redwing.”

“Not good enough.”

“Hey!” called Torres from somewhere nearby.

“So, you couldn’t get leave from the Thunder-Balls –”

“Thunderbolts.”

“Whatever, you couldn’t get leave from them when I needed help on that mission last month, but all of a sudden, I’m going on a date-mission and you’re here? Do you even have furlough?”

“Not at liberty to say.”

“Are you even authorized to be here, Bucky?”

 He gave no answer but stood there staring at Sam. Sam felt warm under his intense gaze. He missed it, if he was being honest. Missed working with Bucky. Missed their back and forth. Missed having him close. Missed having all of that attention leveled at him. 

“I know what you’re doing,” Sam almost whispered. 

“Watching your six." Bucky whispered back.

“Right.”

“Never know when you might need someone with a Vibranuim arm close by.”

“Needed that last month on that other mission, but okay.”

“I’m here now, Samuel,” said Bucky.

“To protect my honor, James?”

“Yes. What if this guy wants you to put out before he gives up the intel?” 

“I mean if he’s cute…”

“Torres! Change of plans. I’m just gonna go in there and beat the intel outta the target.”

“I’m kidding, Buck,” said Sam. “Calm down. God, you’re the most jealous man I know.”

“You know other men?” he asked with a straight face, even though Sam knew he was joking.

Sam finally let out an amused laugh and said, “Haha. You’re impossible.”

“I’m still coming with you.”

“Okay,” said Sam as he finally gave in. “But after this fake date, I want a real date. Think you got time for that?”

“For you, Cap? Absolutely.” 

SamBucky Prompt Game

[imavikingo]