#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"

[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".

[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.

[moonythejedi394]

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.

[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.

[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

[gay-jewish-bucky]

Bucky, standing at the island counter in the kitchen, his long hair is wrapped neatly in a tichel and an apron is tied around his waist.

The late afternoon sun is streaming in through the large window and painting everything a soft gold, the Magen David necklace hanging around his neck–the one Steve gave him–sparkling brilliantly when the light hits it.

He is kneading and portioning out dough to make fresh loaves of challah, swaying unconsciously to the familiar music coming from the antique record player. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as his hands work expertly and a small, easy smile is gracing his flour-smudged face.

Alpine is underfoot, as always, purring happily as she winds her fluffy, white body around his colourfully socked feet.

Steve is sitting across from him, watching with a look of reverence and adoration. Occasionally glancing down at the sketchbook in front of him, trying to perfectly capture his husband in this moment: beautiful, untouched by the pain that was once his constant companion, totally in his element and so wonderfully alive.

Steve thinking in this moment, as he often does, that Bucky might be right when he says that miracles, like G-d, can be found within the seemingly mundane.

[imavikingo]

[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)

[thatmexisaurusrex]

sam and bucky have a tiny argument over the smallest thing (like truly not that significant in the long run) but they both give each other the silent treatment and don't know how to end it because it spiraled out of control and they thought about it too much, and it became a thing out of nothing. so now maybe sam is like yeah, this is stupid, but i can't just let it slide every single time. he needs to reach out first and acknowledge my feelings and i have to stand my ground since i already distanced myself. meanwhile bucky is convinced it's all his fault and they broke up forever. he knows the fight was stupid but in his brain he makes himself believe this will keep happening because of him and sam deserves better than someone who keeps getting it wrong. maybe he doesn't even reach out, simply empties his drawer in the middle of the night and tries to slip out of sam's life. 😶

Send Me a Headcanon or a Microfic Prompt

If this is why the divorce era happens, I'm going to cry. You can't be putting this down and making me pick it up 😭 Okay, I'm going to fix it. You're not asking me to, but I'm fixing it.

In the Middle of the Night

Sam heard it.

He heard the rummaging of someone in his room. And for a brief, tense moment, Sam wondered if someone had broken in. Someone was here to hurt his family and Sam couldn't - Sam wouldn't let that happen.

And Sam's body moved before he could process what exactly was happening. He was sitting on this man, his thighs pressed on the man's sides. Sam had the entire body of James Buchanan Barnes sprawled on the ground under him as he held Bucky's wrists.

The both of them.

Breathing.

Breathing each other's air.

And Sam wouldn't say this was usually how he would capture an intruder, but hey, maybe his body had known something he hadn't when he sprang into action.

There was an intensity in Bucky's eyes.

Which.

Wasn't a new thing.

There was always an intensity to those eyes; piercing Sam's well-crafted armor.

They both.

Relaxed a touch.

But there was still a tenseness there. Not because of danger, but because of an argument. A small, nothing argument that Sam couldn't let happen again.

Because it always happened. Over and over, Bucky seemed to not take Sam's thoughts into consideration. And while the argument itself was a nothing one, wasn't important, the underlining problem was a major issue.

"What are you doing sneaking into my room in the middle of the night?" asked Sam.

Which, if Sam had asked Bucky that a few weeks ago, it would have been playful; there would have been a smile on his face.

"I was gathering my things," Bucky said simply.

And.

Sam glanced at Bucky's hands - saw t-shirts; clothes scattered on the floor from their skirmish.

Sam.

Sam slumped, the fight knocked out of him like a gut punch.

"You're seriously leaving me?" whispered Sam into the quiet room.

Bucky furrowed his brow.

"You don't want that?" asked Bucky.

Sam laughed bitterly. Because that was still the problem, that was the entire fucking problem.

"I want you to ask me what I want, James," Sam spelled out clearly, "I don't want you to do things assuming what I want."

And.

And maybe Bucky finally understood. He relaxed under Sam. He brought his hands up to Sam's face and held it.

"What do you want?" asked Bucky softly.

"For you to apologize. For you to put your fucking clothes back in the drawer. For you to get back in bed with me instead of sleeping on the couch," said Sam honestly.

Bucky sat up. His forehead touched Sam's and - and Bucky leaned even closer.

"I'm sorry," he said tenderly between kisses, "I'll put the clothes back up. I'll get in bed with you."

Sam held Bucky's wrists even tighter.

"You better," grumbled Sam before he reluctantly got up.

Sam settled back into bed as he watched Bucky put his clothes away in his drawer; as Bucky joined him in bed, Bucky's arms wrapped around Sam.

And Sam.

Sam hadn't slept so well in weeks.

[1u11ablues]

“Could he make you feel as good as i do?” (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Your back pressed to him as skin slapped against skin. It was a rushed kind of pace, something two people can only share within walls or the cover of shadows.

Yours were one of the storage rooms of the facility.

"Could he make you feel as good as I do?" Metal hand nudged your chin to the side so he could leave a kiss on your temple as he fucked you messy, "is this pretty pussy satisfied when Stevie's done with it?"

Both of you knew the answer to that. Your relationship with Steve was fulfilling on all sides but one. That's where Bucky came into place.

"Steve should've start paying me for this. Keeping you fed, doll, it's a full time job."

[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.

[indigosabyss]

I want Nadia Van Dyne to accidentally transport herself into the MCU. Like, shrinks down into her lab, something goes wrong, and when she comes back out, everything is different and she doesn't understand what's happened.

Bc I'm rewatching Falcon and the Winter Soldier, I think it would be v funny if she immediately beelined towards Bucky, hoping for answers (operating under the belief that her dimension has been altered bc of time shenanigans or something and not that she's been dimensionally displaced) but since Bucky has literally just deprogrammed from being The Winter Soldier, it just goes:

Nadia: BUCKY, BUCKY, BUCKY, YOU GOTTA HELP ME!! Sam: Do you... know her? Bucky: No. Nadia, laughing: That's a joke, right? You kidnapped me as a baby and handed me to the Red Room, man. Its the oldest memory I have. And now I need your help. Bucky: *having a crisis*