#sebastian stan x trans!reader

[softevnstan]

*NSFW PROMPT*

Imagine Bucky masturbating to the thought of you.

pairing. bucky barnes x gender neutral!reader

summary. returning bucky's laundry to his room after owing him a favor, you're spooked at the abruptness of someone returning. taking shelter in the closet on impulse, you find yourself getting a front-row seat to bucky taking care of his pent-up frustrations.

warnings. voyeurism, unintentional exhibitionism, panty stealing, masturbation, soft!dark!bucky (he steals your underwear but he's not a creeper past that), panty sniffing, uncircumcised p (mentioned, not relevant past that), light dirty talk. SMUT - minors DNI. reader technically is breaking and entering but bucky took their underwear so they're even. reader wears thongs but nothing is ever gendered as men's or women's, just implies the reader wears similar things.

a.n. ok so not as long as my usual things but i wanna start finishing requests in general rather than making all of them super longer - it's daunting for me. so have some slightly pervy bucky and you caught him :) no beta, we die like men.

w.c. 5.3k

The sound of skin on skin is obscene; Flooding the quiet air alongside the labored pants and muted groans from Bucky. The slick slide of his fist is hypnotizing - working over the impressive length of his aching cock and twisting his wrist on the upstroke. Bucky moans low, and the sound reverberates to your core.

You hadn’t even intended to intrude on the moment. You’d brought him his laundry after taking the liberty to do it yourself since you knew Bucky suffered from rough days (anything to make it easier for him).  It was a relatively simple task in the grand scheme of things - Laundry. When did it so complicated?

Bucky wasn’t even supposed to have been back yet! How did you get yourself into this mess??

You owed Bucky his laundry due to a favor; he’d come to your aid one night in the rain when you’d run over a bottle and flattened your tire. Bucky had helped you on the side of the road, in the rain, changing your tire. To pay it forward, you insisted you’d help Bucky out with odds and ends given his schedule suffered from hectic changes from having to be on standby for Ross. You knew the help certainly couldn’t hurt and you’d feel better about having him come out to your rescue. After moments of bickering, Bucky agreed for you to help with his laundry; It was the only thing he’d been comfortable letting you do for him. Still learning to let people in.

And you were more than happy to help out a friend. But when you’d insisted to pay back Bucky, you didn’t expect it to bite you in the ass in the sweetest yet worst way possible. 

Admittedly, you were in the wrong to an extent here. Going into Bucky’s apartment while he wasn’t there? Big no-no, but leaving the basket outside the door wasn’t an option. Someone could steal it! Then what kind of friend would that make you?

Bucky lived above you in your shared building. You’d met at the laundromat around the corner one late evening and eventually weened yourself into his friend circle through tokens of affection - such as making plates for Bucky on nights when you had extra, or talking to him when you’d catch him on the fire escape overhead while watering your plants. Through persistence and patience, you were proud to say that you were one of Bucky’s friends. It especially elated you when Bucky would confirm such statements.

With becoming Bucky’s friend, you also eventually became aware of the rock that sat on the metal grates on the fire escape above yours. The first time you’d spotted it, it’d confused you - how did a rock get in a place like that? Your apartment was on the second floor, Bucky’s on the third! Was someone throwing rocks at Bucky’s windows? You never heard anything shattering or breaking, and as far you were aware, the window seemed well intact when you’d stretched out to sneak a glance at the casement. Nor had you recalled any mumbled gripes about the potential disturbance - therefore ruling out that as an option. You’d pondered it for a long while.

Eventually, you found the opportunity to inquire about the rock to Bucky one day a few weeks ago - ‘Spare key.’ was all he had told you.

It made sense; Bucky was an enhanced super soldier - scaling the side of the building to get his spare key (or just going out through your window - you’d let him if he asked) was a minimal feat at best. He wanted multiple fail-safes. 

That fail-safe had come to your aid earlier that day. After shakily climbing the flimsy metal ladder to the floor above you, you’d been relieved to come into contact with the flat landing of Bucky’s fire escape. You found safety in the more-so-stable steel grate that held your weight; The cool breeze of the afternoon served as a reminder that you were three stories above the ground and falling would be extremely inconvenient. 

Clambering with the rock was… Interesting. On the surface, it really did look like a simple rock. In your hands was only when you could tell it wasn’t; It was light in your palms and there was a line dividing the ‘rock’ into halves to anyone who was paying attention long enough to find it. Weighing in your palms, you took a moment to examine the rock and appreciate the ingenuity of the hiding place.

After attempting to pry it open with your fingers - trying to find the best means of opening it - the phony rock popped open into two pieces. Briefly, it sent a strike of fear wracking your body. The key clattered against the fire escape, stealing your breath with a shrill gasp. You quickly attempted to scoop the key up before it slipped between the slots in the steel and was lost on the ground. The last thing you needed to do was lose Bucky’s spare. Sure, you could go looking for it on the ground, but it’s about principle and responsibility.

With the brass clutched safely in your fingers, you breathed a sigh of relief before slumping against the brick wall of Bucky’s apartment behind you. Everything after that would be a piece of cake. The only thing left to do was head up to Bucky’s apartment and drop his laundry off. You’d give the key back in person when you caught up with him rather than taking your chances on the rickety metal that made your heart drop to your stomach with every creak.

After safely returning to the comfort of your apartment, you pocketed the key in your jeans for safekeeping. Then after gathering the blue, plastic laundry basket full of all of Bucky’s folded clothes, you left your apartment and climbed the stairs to the third floor. Eyes traveling the corridor, you’d scoured the orientational numbers on each beige door before halting at the door with golden numbers counting out ‘306.’ 

Rather than knock, you balanced the long basket on your hip and used your free hand to fish for the key and unlock Bucky’s apartment - telling yourself it’d be a simple in and out; Unbeknownst to you it was about to be anything but.

Bucky’s apartment was far drab compared to yours. Filled with the bare essentials, his walls didn’t hold photos or paintings of the things he loved. The coffee table he had was overwhelmed with stacks of books; A bookcase still in its box and unassembled sat perched against the living room wall. You didn’t help yourself to his home past entering, but it didn’t stop your eyes from searching curiously. His kitchen was so empty; The fridge only held a grocery list and the drainboard was full of clean dishes Bucky must’ve done recently after a build-up. Everything looked so untouched; So empty - it was disheartening to you. If Bucky were to take the time to actually personalize his space, maybe his bad days would take a little less of a toll on him without bare walls threatening to close in on him. 

That was for another day. In the meantime, you made quick work of carrying the basket to Bucky’s bedroom. Simply telling yourself you’d set the basket down and leave it before returning to your own apartment and getting a start on dinner. But when you pushed the door open to Bucky’s room, you were surprised by how lived in it seemed compared to the rest of the apartment.

There was an empty glass on Bucky’s nightstand, as well as two half-full water bottles and a digital alarm clock. Alongside the bottles sat a small, red pocket notebook with a pen next to it. The bed was half unmade; The queen size bed only being ruined on the right side, next to the nightstand. So much of his room appeared second-hand; The area was a mess of items and clutter but nothing too gaudy or expensive. You half wonder if this is a contributing factor/result of the man’s depression; Especially considering none of it looked dirty - simply unkempt. Mustering the energy must’ve been far few and in between when his priorities tend to lie with work. By the time Bucky returned to his apartment after a day’s work, perhaps he didn’t have the energy by then to keep the room maintained.

Maybe you could help him with that one day.

A desk nearby was lined with journals; Stood against the wall with their empty spines outward towards you. There had to be roughly ten to thirteen - you hadn’t counted out each one, simply guessed. A small lamp was left on at the desk; Casting the desk in a yellow light. Sticky notes and pens are scattered across the flat, wooden surface. There was a roll of tape, a bottle of paste, scissors, and the clippings of what looked like a newspaper detailing the refurnishing of the Captain America exhibit left out. A brown leather journal sat left out and untouched amongst the supplies, and you assumed it was Bucky’s most recent diary.

Setting the laundry basket on top of Bucky’s dresser, you took a closer look at Bucky’s desk. Temptation left your fingers to twitch curiously at what could be hiding in the drawers but knowing better than to help yourself. As many secrets this room no doubt had that could bring you closer to Bucky, you knew being any more invasive than you already were would deter him. Push him away. You wouldn’t want someone rifling through your things, either.

Bucky always held you at an arm’s distance. One day you hoped he no longer did; That you’d be welcomed into these spaces freely rather than technically intruding in on them. You could only hope Bucky wouldn’t be too upset; You had good intentions, you swear.

Though, as the saying goes, ‘curiosity killed the cat’. After abandoning the basket, you tentatively moved to Bucky’s desk. Crouching to peer into the round trash can that was full of crumbled and torn papers, and excess clippings that Bucky hadn’t needed for his journal. It was trash, yes, but you were curious. You’d only managed to search for a few seconds in shifting through the papers when you were suddenly jarred by the sound of the lock in the foyer sliding open. You heard the door opening next. The apartment was silent save for your breathing, which made it easy to hear, but it also made it easier for you to be heard. 

The abruptness of someone’s return shocked you; Jumping right up to your feet and eyes flickering for somewhere to hide - you were somewhere you shouldn’t be, after all. In retrospect, it was the wrong option. The only reasonable person it would be was Bucky, but you didn’t know that at that moment. And in a world where aliens and robots co-exist and the world has been on the brink of end countless times, you come to expect the worst of situations. Better not to take chances. So hiding out in the closet was instinct; Even if it was the wrong choice. And if you’d taken a moment to remember entirely where you were, you’d have been able to put together that it was Bucky returning but the thought was far from your mind in those short few seconds it took you to get to your feet. Without thought, you quickly advanced towards the closet that was a quarter of the way open; Hanging clothes peeking back at you. 

Sliding the door open, you hid inside the closet without a second thought - silently trying to slide the door back as you had found it and leave the room as untouched as you could manage. It was only then, standing on Bucky’s extra pair of shoes and attempting to not stumble over yourself, you thought to yourself: Genius idea - now what?

You didn’t have to ponder the next course of action for too long.

The heavy footfalls of Bucky’s boots on the wooden floor resounded through the empty apartment, drawing nearer and nearer. Your heart jumped into your throat, holding your breath as your mind scrambled for the next reasonable phase of action - springing out on Bucky would no doubt startle him, and lying in wait was hardly an option. Perhaps he’d leave again and a window of escape would open, even if it meant clambering down the fire escape and praying Bucky’s enhanced hearing didn’t catch your commotion. 

That meant getting to the window itself, though, which was going to be a monumental feat. Especially when you hear the click of Bucky’s heels entering the same room as you. Bucky comes to a halt somewhere around the entrance to the room; You hear no movement, no sound. Your heart pounds in your chest; Fearful he may somehow know you’re there. The last thing you wanted to do was shatter your trust in this man. It was a long moment before Bucky’s feet pick up again and he enters the bedroom. Great. Getting out undetected just became leagues more complicated.

A hollow sigh emitted from the man behind the door, and in the seconds following you could hear the springs of his bed whine under his weight. The shuffling of sheets, and still, you’d hardly breathed in that time. Body kept as stiff as possible in the cramped, dark space. 

It’s the sound of a zipper that surprises you.  Not daring to peek, you allow your mind to attempt to fill in the blanks. The long ‘ziiiiip’ leaves you to believe it’s Bucky shedding the layer of the coat he lives in - he runs cold easier. He explained it to you one time; His serum and all of its laced dysfunctions.

Bucky mumbles something to himself about the thermostat and what temperature it's on, and part of you realizes you missed his voice. Sure, Bucky was only going about his daily work while you both were apart, but hearing him and knowing you were in the same room with Bucky did bring about an odd sense of natural comfort. Just beyond this door, he was at arm’s length. What would it be like to welcome Bucky home after a long day of work?

Your thoughts are jarred when you hear the slide of a drawer. Tentatively, you lean towards the barely-there gap between the door in the wall to peek through. Bucky is sitting on the bed, one leg draped off the side and the other up with him. He’s tight up against the headboard, sat up as the soldier shuffles through his nightstand drawer. Bucky’s brown leather coat is abandoned on the edge of the bed, leaving him in his dark navy jeans and a black t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination in regard to miles and miles of muscle. It’s only then you notice the fact that Bucky’s fly is unzipped as well; The flaps of his jeans are pulled open to show his gray boxer briefs that hug his hips all too well.

The moment feels utterly invasive. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be seeing any of this - this is Bucky’s private time, but there you are, with a front-row seat, helpless but to watch.

What Bucky produces from the drawer is a clear bottle of water-based lube and… Underwear. It only takes a few seconds for horror to creep up your spine and realization dawns. It’s your thong.  Specifically, a black pair that you’d thrown into your laundry the other day; You feel shame creep up your face and color your cheeks - a sense of violation but that would make the both of you even, wouldn’t it? You’re intruding on him after all. 

You follow Bucky’s hand holding the bottle of lube as he slots it between his legs and propped up on his inner thigh; Your glance moving further to acknowledge the semi-bulge in his underwear. The angle is perfect, his headboard facing the closet doors and providing you with the best view of his spread thick thighs. 

It makes your heart pound in your chest; Your guts swoop with something akin to excitement and guilt ebbs in your mind for the fact that this is bordering on arousing. For a moment you humor the thought of how thick Bucky must be fully erect; How the weight of his cock might feel on your tongue. It’s not the first time you’ve indulged yourself privately in such explicit thoughts of your friend, and part of you had always felt silently contrite for the sexualization, but now you had a direct show. It was like finally having food for thoughts; A burning in your chest. It can’t be real, can it?

Coming to your senses, you tear away from the display face a hot face and a dizzying mind. You take a deep breath, scrubbing hands down your face attempting to cool the flush. You can’t watch something like this - how did Bucky even get your thong? Did he go snooping in your apartment? Did he take anything else?? Confliction tugs in your chest, almost frustrated with yourself for finding a sense of arousal in the thought. 

Bucky going through your things when you’re not there, taking something so intimate like a trophy… It should disturb you - someone breaking into your apartment. But thinking about it longer makes your gut feel tight and arousal swell between your legs. Were there chances he’d watched you in other intimate moments? Moments where you cried his name, muffled by your pillows and impaled on your favorite toy? It was more than just a thong, it was all the implications that came with the gesture. Was this the first time? Were there others? Questions ran a hundred miles a minute through your mind. Grounded in reality for half a moment and reminding yourself this isn’t a fantasy. It’s real, it’s wrong, it’s— A low, husky groan stops your train of thought. Going stock still, you take a moment to actually listen to what’s happening. Paralyzed in the dark, you realize you could now hear the slick slide of what you assumed was Bucky’s hand on his cock. The short pants from Bucky hung in the air; “Aw, that’s it…” Bucky husks, arousal thick in his quiet tone. “Needed this so fuckin’ bad…”

Another burst of arousal rings from your core and makes your skin tingle. The sounds are so obscene…

Against your better judgment, you redirect your attention to the gap in the door. 

You’re greeted with the delicious sight of Bucky’s pants shimmied down his thick thighs, bunched up before his knees. His cock stands half erect, his flesh fingers wrapped around the length with fingers slick with lube. You can see his heavy sac, the curve of his cock, and the way the head of his cock is slick with pre-come when his foreskin is drawn down on the stroke. He has a pretty dick, all things considered; Bucky keeps himself well-groomed in regards to his pubic hair from what you can tell, and his cock looks thick - even he barely manages to wrap his fingers entirely around the base of his cock and pump.

The motion is hypnotizing, and as much as you’d love to continue to swallow the sight whole, you can’t help but be distracted by his vibranium arm. The one that’s holding your thong between sleek black and gold fingers, held to Bucky’s face as he breathes you in. Eyes closed in bliss.

Nose buried into the fabric while he fists the length of his cock, the pornographic act surprises you. The way Bucky is so enthralled and aroused at that moment, knowing that it’s because of you, and having the dirty little secret of watching Bucky jerk off. To watch him in one of his most intimate positions. 

You’re already stuck here. What more is there to lose? You can only sell your soul once. Your hands slink down between your legs, fingers slipping past the hem of your pants and into your underwear; Fingers getting to work at coaxing your arousal.

“F-Fuuuck,” Bucky huffed out, fingers tight around the base of his cock as he jerked himself off; Fucking up into his own fist with minute thrusts, his slit weeping copious amounts of pre-come. His face still buried in the fabric of your thong, the long draws of inhales through his nose making you squirm.

You could only imagine what was going through Bucky’s mind when it came to you. What he could possibly be thinking of to egg on his own arousal so deeply? He pumped to the thought of you, and you watched his angry red cock drool at the attention. You wanted to stay with Bucky through this. Feel good with him; Pretend you were part of the equation.

With your heart pounding in your chest and your head feeling airy, your circle your fingers around your needy hole before working them in. Working experimentally to loosen your aching hole and allow the penetration; Sinking to the first knuckle as you fucked your fingers in and out of your entrance. Nowhere near the same brutal pace Bucky maintains, working yourself gradually to take the intrusion. The slide is made easier when your wetness slicks the inside of your underwear and ruins another pair.

Your needy hole swallows your fingers easily; made simple by the arousing nature of the situation. The guttural sounds from Bucky’s throat as he inhaled your scent, sending shivers down your spine with the raw display. 

“Oh God, Y/N,” Bucky groans low in his throat, the sound of your name rolling off his tongue taking you off guard. "Mm, yeah, I love your hands…" his voice is breathy, the way it hits your ears makes it feel as though Bucky is right behind you and whispering it in your ear for half a moment - you clamp a hand over your lips to avoid squeaking out a noise you shouldn't as your fingers make progressively faster work fingering yourself open. 

Bucky is pretending it's you there.

You feel like butter, bracing against the wall of the closet as you became a victim to your own lust. Fucking yourself open in the rhythm of Bucky's tugs on his hard cock. 

"Ri-Right there," Bucky speaks to himself through labored pants. "God, mm, such a good baby… Yeah, y-you're my sweet little doll-baby..." The praise coaxes you on; A barely audible muffled whine vibrates along your palm. You freeze entirely and go stock-still upon the realization you’d made some sort of noise, but Bucky’s rhythm doesn’t falter. He hadn’t even heard you. 

Relief washes over you, tight shoulders going slack before you allow yourself to melt into the euphoria of the moment again.

Bucky creates such beautiful noises on his own, but part of you imagines he’d be too self-conscious to be nearly as vocal with a partner. When you peek out at him, his jaw fluctuates between slack and baring his teeth with a clenched jaw. His swollen lips curling into a perfect ‘o’ shape as he strokes his delicious cock before worrying the flesh between his teeth again. The sight burns into your memory; Forever immortalizing itself. You’ll never need to look at another man again, truly.

Still he holds your thong to his nose, breathing in the scent deeply until he changes things up. Bucky sits up just a little more, and you bite back a keen that the show has come to a pause. Bucky shifts his weight on the bed in what you assume is an attempt to get more comfortable. He rucks up the black t-shirt to reveal the pleasant happy trail that cascades over his navel and belly button - the star of the show and stealing the spotlight is his abdomen; The man looks chiseled from marble, even with the scars that are speckled throughout his physique. Bucky’s perfect.

Bucky, still holding your thong, alternates his hands. Wrapping the fabric around the length of his cock and resorted to quick flicks; Using something that touched your most intimate places to aid in his solo session. You watch Bucky’s cock jerk with interest, and he husks out a delighted chuckle that bleeds into a blissed moan. 

His eyes never shut. Steely blue gaze always peering open and aware, it just adds to the adrenaline of hiding for you. It excites you. Wondering what would happen if he peered towards the closet and caught your gaze; In an ideal world, he keeps jerking off to the thought of you - sharing the filthy moment together and shamelessly. 

“That’s it, sugar,” his voice rumbles, and if you close your eyes, you can pretend it's you and him, not your defiled thong. You screw your eyes shut and strain to listen, fingers still working meticulously between your slick wet inner thighs. “Y’take it so fuckin’ well, made for my cock…”

You imagine what it’d be like to feel him slide home in you. The way your walls would flutter around the stretch and how Bucky would stretch you open. You’d feel so full, you imagine. Taking inch after inch until he was buried in the hilt. Would he be a rough lover? Would he jackhammer your poor hole until it was simply stretched and dripping with his come? Would he hold you missionary so he could see your face when you came around his cock?

You squeeze your thighs together and exhale shakily into your palm - attempting to control yourself even as you still finger-fuck to the beat of Bucky’s strokes. Your legs tremble with want. After a moment, your eyes squint open to see what Bucky is doing now…

Bucky’s intent focus is fixed on soiling the material he holds. Smearing his pre-come into the fabric and staining it with traces of him. He ruts into the fabric before fucking into it all together. Fisting it around his aching girth and wrapping his dick with the cotton and treating it as if it were his own hole to fuck. Though you imagine it not nearly as gratifying.

His head falls back; The column of his throat is exposed and you imagine littering it with kisses and hickeys that wouldn’t last. He’s utterly lost in that moment, hips fucking subtly off the bed into your underwear that’s wrapped around his cock. You try to meet the pace with your fingers, thrusting into your slick channel and the arousal creeping into every last crevice. Your skin feels hot, mind fuzzy with desire. Your hand isn’t enough, you wish you had more, but it’ll have to do. Fingers thrusting in, you eventually manage a third alongside your two. Bucky’s fingers would be bigger, thicker. They could hit every best part of you, or perhaps they could fill your wanting mouth while his cock takes up every last inch and then some inside of you. 

“O-Ohh, oh fuck, doll, m’gonna come,” Bucky moans, and your heart jumps into your throat. “Yeah, m’gonna fill up your greedy little hole, gonna fill you up with my fuckin’ come ‘til you’re drippin’ with it…” 

You wish you could consider it a promise, the words egging you closer and closer to your own teetering edge. His voice is so rough, the words so sultry and filthy - you’d never heard Bucky speak in such an obscene way and it reached to your core.

His hand impossibly quickens as lube-covered fingers come to roll his balls between them. Watching Bucky play with his sac left you on the cusp of drooling; You could only imagine the lewd sound his balls would make clapping against your flesh in the haze of his animalistic fucking. He’d sink balls deep into you, making you take every last drop…

“Please, please, please,” you whisper a litany in barely a breath to yourself. Begging for a man that doesn’t even know you’re there; Reduced to such a needy and wanting thing as you draw on the cusp of your own orgasm. It’s only when you angle your fingers just right and curl against that sweet spot, you see stars. It drives you right over the brink of your orgasm, hand clutching over your mouth so hard it hurts.

It’s perfect timing. As you unravel in Bucky’s closet, knees nearly buckling under you, Bucky reaches his own climax. You can tell in the way the crease forms between his brows and his eyes finally screw shut; Groaning like an animal in rut out into the air as his hips stutter and falter. You watch the fabric dampen, and the slick seed trickle down to the seam of his balls and stain the sheets under himself.

“Fuck!” Bucky moans, and you tremble.

It’s an absolutely gorgeous sight. Watching the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, the sweat glistening on his flushed skin, and the mess of come that Bucky unloads into your thong. You’ll never look at the pair of underwear the same if you ever even see them again.

You pant, feeling like jelly and rather defeated by being stuck in the closet. You long for nothing more than to pull that door open and crawl into bed with Bucky, or at the very least, find sanctuary in your own apartment. 

You nearly laugh when you remember the turn of events that even brought you to this moment.

Carefully, you coax your fingers from your used hole. Biting your lip to bite back the whine that nearly leaves you when you clench around nothing; Empty. The floor of the closet is littered with shoes, and without much thought, you brace your hand on the door in an attempt to steady yourself and find better footing before you go crashing to the floor. The door gives. The way you’re holding on with your palm flush to the cool surface, the door braces against the metal horizontal rig and leaves the door to shake. The applied pressure makes the door give, and slide open; before you could find leverage on anything to save you from the fall, you stumble harshly in Bucky’s closet - meeting the carpeted floor below. Your heart is suddenly pounding in your ears, pierced with a new sort of fear and a way less sexy one.

When you prop your arms under yourself to lift up, Bucky is already standing at the closet door. Your eyes nervously raise up the length of his legs, over his half-soft cock that’s eyes level with you, to the used thong in his hands. Further up, you find that piercing gaze looking down on you. Cast in Bucky’s shadow, you suddenly feel so small as he looms over you. A grin fixed on his lips and pupils blown; it looks like he wants to eat you alive.

“Well, well, well, what're we doin' in here…?” Bucky purrs, the opposite of the anger you expect. “B-Bucky!” You gasp, the ecstasy of your high gone and instead holding a prickling knot in your stomach. “I– I wasn’t— This—” “Oh, sugar, what’re you makin’ excuses for…?” Bucky asks, voice low and almost threatening. “You think I wouldn’t notice the basket when I came in with an unlocked door? How stupid you think I am, pretty thing…?” Bucky’s sultry and rough voice sends another jolt between your legs and straight to your core. Your face burns with shame and humiliation with the implications.

Bucky knew you were there the whole time.

“Aww, nothin’ to say for yourself, baby…?” The tone is almost condescending albeit with an underlying heat. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer uselessly, voice quaking with a mix between arousal and fear.

Bucky holds up your defiled thong before tossing it into your lap.  You jump, lifting up the thong with your fingers and only then see the load stained on the inside of the underwear. You swallow around the tightness in your throat, tentatively looking back up at the hulking man.

“No, you’re not. But you will be.”

[urween]

Skittish | Bucky Barnes x ftm!reader | english version

summary: After a long battle and especially hard research, the Avengers finally found the Winter Soldier. To keep everyone safe, they keep him locked in their HQ. In semi-freedom but especially in a trance, Bucky Barnes attracts the attention of the young boy in charge of taking care of him during his stay here.

notes: I prefer to specify it, the temporality is not exactly respected. Let's say that all this takes place just after Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

⚠︎ warnings: mentions of heavy trauma related to the war and the Hydra projects, a form of depressed!Bucky, violence, weapons, incomprehension of transidentity without transphobia, mentions of suicidal thoughts.

English isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes <3

- 2nd person description

- 5 371 words

french version here

You were the little protégé of the group, he had quickly noticed. Even if Natasha didn't have superpowers or a robotic suit either, she was part of the team. She and Clint were kind of the superhumans of the group, with superhuman abilities but nothing that surpassed Thor's lightning or Hulk's muscles. Then, there was you, a fairly normal little human with no particular specificities. High intelligence, extreme kindness and an adorable smile. But no mastery of martial arts. You knew the basics of fighting, Nat had taught you the main thing. You had ended up understanding Bruce's extravagant chemical formulas, and you understood the most important things Tony said in his intense nerd phases. But once again, you were nothing special, and that made Bucky wonder. Why was a basic human here? What were you doing in the middle of the Avengers? Even though he had missed a few decisive years from a social point of view, he didn't understand.

As he stared from his cell, he saw scenes he didn't know how to interpret. You assisting Tony Stark and Jarvis, you laughing with Bruce Banner, you helping Natasha Romanoff train, you carrying Steve Rogers' shield to him, you sorting Clint Barton's arrows, you redoing Thor's braids.

What were you doing there?

You had cheerfully introduced yourself to him. With a friendly smile on your lips, you had stated your name, first name and pronouns – he hadn't really understood this last point –. You had surely been informed of his situation. Don't be offended, he'll need a little time, someone must have whispered to you. He hadn't answered you, and you hadn't seemed offended. You had then left, and he had remained perplexed. If you already knew everything about him, why come and introduce yourself? You must have read his files, you must have all read his files. Steve had to slip away to get some air, Natasha inspected everything in detail, Bruce muttered "it’s awful". You had to read his files. See his life laid out on a large table, foreign hands going over the medical reports. You had to read with anguish the endless list of victims he had killed during his missions, observe the modifications that had been made to him, the treatments inflicted, the pains endured. You had seen all that. Then, why come see him?

"Let's just say I don't really like you hanging around this guy," Tony's voice had been saying for several minutes, "Jarvis copy this plan for me and make a 3D reconstruction with train stations, airports and all the stuff."

The holograms moved before your eyes, but you hadn't paid attention to them. Back then, the first time you saw this virtual world being modeled in Tony's office, you were like a kid. Stars in your eyes, you asked a thousand questions per second, making the creator of this program smile. But now you knew yourself how most of the "Jarvis" system worked, and you weren't so impressed anymore, or at least you weren't with every move Stark made.

"I don't see what's bothering you," you replied, innocently swinging your legs in the air.

Tony turned around with his ever-so-dramatic gestures, making a vague movement with his hand he tried to make you understand things without having to speak. Unfortunately for him telekinesis was not part of your abilities.

"Okay," he admitted to himself, defeated, "to start with his sophisticated robotic arm that could crush you before you could scream," he mimed disinterestedly, “did you look at him? Unstable and completely high."

A non-hidden smile drew a curve across your lips.

"We're still talking about Bucky Barnes?” you had fun, “because I rather have the impression that you're looking at yourself in a mirror"

You glanced at Jarvis, who was finishing your friend's request. Then, your attention went back to the billionaire who was visibly desperate to have this discussion with you – you were getting used to it, a demonstration of love coming from Tony –.

"I prefer to cut you off right now," your voice continued, "I forbid you to give me the traditional excuses like he's dangerous or armed or he's a murderer”. You got down from the table where you were sitting and gestured around the room, “look around Tony, only weapons or future weapons,” you got closer to him and pointed at his forehead, “you have the greatest weapon that humanity has ever known in this skull. Natasha and Clint are professional killers, Steve is a traumatized soldier who makes a denial, Thor is an alien with supernatural powers and Bruce is a scientist haunted by a destructive alter-ego”. You pause to admire the still indecipherable facial expression of the man in front of you, “you are all murderers and dangers to Mankind, the only difference between you and Barnes is that you chose to devote your talents to a cause, and he had no choice".

Tony remained motionless for a few long seconds, a whirlwind surely vibrating his neurons. Then, he shrugged his shoulders and quickly bowed his head in defeat.

"You're right," he declared, "I’ve no more arguments and yours are solid”, he turned and went back to Jarvis, “well done kid"

A year ago you would have been perplexed by this reaction, but time had taught you that you had to take Tony Stark with a grain of salt and observe him as you would with a foreign mushroom. All you could remember from this interaction was that you were tired, that you had won against the great megalomaniac Iron Man and above all that you had to talk to Barnes again.

No one had really agreed with Steve on the idea of ​​bringing a Hydra mercenary back to Avengers HQ. It's the equivalent of serving him our secrets on a silver platter, Clint had rightly said. You had been surprised to see Nat defend Barnes, alongside you and Steve – of course –. There was Bruce who couldn't deliver a distinct judgment, then Tony and Clint who were against. Thor having left, you didn't know where in space, the votes had therefore been closed with a majority of for.

You had helped Captain set up a room that was at least habitable in a protective cell, a bit like the one that had sheltered Loki. While the tall blond carried the fold-out bed, you had taken care of a bag of clothes – approximately Barnes' size – and another with water and sweets, this idea had come from you. You found it unfair to call this man a simple murderer, he had been manipulated and controlled. As you put the cereal bars on a small iron table, you tried not to think about the chaos that must be going on in the Winter Soldier's head at the same time. He must have been just as traumatized as his victims, maybe even more so. And finding himself in such a particular environment overnight must have been disturbing. So a chocolate bar and a soda couldn't hurt him.

Thank you, Steve had murmured, for understanding. You had given him a touching smile, holding back the urge to ask him how he felt. He had just found his best friend, who was supposed to have disappeared for several decades, and on top of that, this friend had suffered inhumane treatment for most of his life now. It was obvious that he didn't feel well, that he was helpless in the face of this situation. Bruce had advised you to give him time, and that if he needed it, he would end up talking to one of you. You had listened to his advice, and focused more on Barnes instead.

You had introduced yourself first, starting with a simple acquaintance. You had then made sure to take care of his needs, slipping in a new bottle of fresh water when the previous one was empty, opening his prison only when night fell so that he could go shower without running into a contemptuous Tony or a depressed Steve.

On this subject, rules had been established to guarantee everyone's safety. If Bucky left his cell it was always in the company of one of you – you were the only ones with the passes –, if he asked for something – which he never did – the object had to pass through several control portals before being given to him, and finally no matter where he went, toilets or showers, someone had to watch over him within the limits of privacy. Bruce had offered to take turns, but judging by the faces of the others you had volunteered to ensure most of his outings. Natasha was supposed to replace you when you weren't available, then Tony if neither of you were present. This way you had avoided conflicts but also and above all Steve wouldn't have to go there.

You didn't know him, Bucky, having only seen the videos in his file, and yet every time you went to visit him your stomach knotted. There was no question of fear, since his robotic arm had been censored to the maximum thanks to a Stark gadget, leaving him only the freedom to use it as a normal limb, without super-strength or integrated weapons. He remains a super soldier, Bruce had warned, his physical faculties are superior to Nat's and he has a serum similar to Steve's in his veins. But you weren't afraid. Unfortunately a goat would have made you shiver more than Barnes when you went to see him. He was always on pause. Never spoke, barely moving his gaze from the ground. You had been reassured to see that he ate the bare minimum, and he had even tasted a chocolate bar one day. But aside from these details, it was as if you were seeing the same robot in the same position, day after day. Your stomach knotted for these reasons, because when you brought him clean sheets he had nothing of the man you had seen on video. The rage that haunted his eyes had disappeared, there was only a nameless emptiness left, and you had never seen anything so sad. You didn't feel like you had a hundred-year-old Hydra soldier in front of you, but a broken orphan.

You spent a lot of time rereading his file, his reports, his exams. You tried to understand him through these papers. Steve was lost, he no longer saw Buck in those eyes, and you were trying to understand what he had become, Buck. According to his personal file, he had been found at the age of twenty-six before undergoing Hydra’s experiments. A photo of him, in 1943, was stuck to the paper. A shy smile on his lips, his infantry hat slightly tilted on his head and his uniform without a crease sitting proudly on his chest. A tear had seriously rolled down your cheek, ending its path in a Russian handwriting: Зимний Солдат, in other words Winter Soldier. Bruce had carried out a complete tradition of all the documents, later corrected by Natasha. Maybe rereading these texts was not good for you, but you needed it. You were the only one here who was interested in Barnes. Steve felt so guilty that he was in a kind of denial, Nat was only coldly studying the soldier’s file and let’s not even talk about the others. Bucky needed time, understanding and gentleness to at least not make his after-effects worse. You most certainly had to make mistakes, not being a psychologist by profession, but you were already doing better than your comrades and than Hydra.

"Nice evening, huh?" Your voice echoed in a leaden silence.

The sun had set for over three hours, most of the Avengers were in their rooms or gone outside, which meant that it was the perfect time for Barnes to take a shower. You had gathered your strength and went to the soldier's cell. When you had passed by, about two hours ago, he had not wanted to eat his meal so you had taken it back and heated it up again for later. With the hot dish in one hand, you carefully closed the armored glass door behind you. As you expected, Barnes had hardly moved since your last visit. Still sitting cross-legged in his bed, he seemed vaguely to notice your presence.

"I know you didn't want to eat earlier," you began, putting the meal down next to him, "but I thought that maybe your appetite had returned in the meantime."

Sometimes you were entitled to a small, hoarse "hum" from the back of his throat as a response, but you wondered if it was intentional since his gestures didn't match this slight sign of life. Unfortunately, tonight wasn't part of that "sometimes." No noise, barely a breath. But you didn't get discouraged.

The first few times you came to talk to him, his complete lack of reaction had made you wonder about his possible understanding of your language. Yet you had read that he read and spoke at least two languages, including yours. You might not understand what I'm telling you, you had mumbled while picking up his used clothes. Your biggest interaction with him had been when he had looked you straight in the eye and said in a pleasantly deep voice: I understand.

“Other than that you can-”

You were surprised to see him stand up on his own, studiously heading towards the exit door while waiting for you to open it. You were usually the one who went first to the exit, waiting two or three seconds for him to get up and join you. But this was a nice surprise, maybe it meant that his condition was improving.

Your electromagnetic pass stuck to the dashboard, a small beep sounded before you pushed the heavy door and let Barnes go first. These security questions were mandatory for you to approach the Winter Soldier. Always making him walk in front of you, making your pass inaccessible – hidden in your sleeve most of the time as Bruce had advised you –, a bladed weapon concealed against your ankle in case of trouble, and you weren't supposed to talk to him about yourself or the team. Clint had wanted to add an additional rule: not to speak to him unless necessary, to prevent any risk of manipulation. Did you look at him carefully? Had you imposed yourself in the discussion, he didn't utter any opposition during the whole process to bring him back here, and then remember his mission reports, he wasn't a spy but a mass murderer, he was programmed to speak as little as possible to his victims. Tony had agreed with you on the subject, recalling the case of Loki – once again – who was very different from Barnes.

Stupid rules, you thought as you watched the silhouette of the man in front of you advance in the long corridor. If the others saw him for more than five minutes, they would realize that he was nothing more than a victim in this cell. They all found you a little naive and they appreciated you for that, a ray of hope in the midst of chaos. Yet you were by far the one with the best perception of the others. Each villain had arguments, good or bad, you listened to them all. You reasoned with the team, making them come out of their superhero bubble to show them the possibility of a little levity.

You did not doubt the abilities of Barnes, you wanted to find yourself face to face with him even less than with Nat – and that was already a lot –. You sometimes looked again at the surveillance videos taken the day Natasha and Steve fought him for the first time. He was hypnotizing, in the way all his movements seemed to come together with such fluidity and speed, the way his body thought for him and acted accordingly. You were dizzy from a roll in comparison, so seeing it all was astounding. Of course, there were horrible explanations behind these gifts, just like most people who could reproduce all this, but you still couldn't help but analyze these videos. And then, there in that hallway, you looked at Barnes' back, his arm gleaming, the red star enthroned there, and you wondered what was going on in his mind. What he could do was inhuman, and seeing it in image reinforced that feeling.Then you had to realize that he was a human being, who had once been like you. His way of functioning had to have been completely disrupted, distorted and destroyed. We had to reduce to crumbs what had been to build what was now, that was how it worked. To adapt to a new environment we were always advised to forget everything we thought we knew, all the movies said it. In the same way that flat-earthers were convinced that the Earth was flat, Barnes no longer saw the world the way you did.

As the rules said, you discreetly put your pass in a pants pocket as you reached the bathroom. Simple locks served as security, and it was more than enough. No one except you had ever mentioned the possibility that Bucky was trying to end his life. If he did, the bathroom was the best place, which is why a simple lock would do the trick so that you or someone else could break down the door if necessary. But you avoided thinking too much about this exit, because through the few interactions you had had with him and the thoughts you had about him, you had become truly attached to him.

You opened the shower curtain, under Barnes' intrigued gaze. Each Avengers had a bathroom with the bare minimum in their room, but there were also three larger bathrooms on the second floor. These were the rooms to clean yourself in an emergency when you came back covered in blood, or Bruce went there in the event of a green alert for example. They were more accessible than the bedrooms, which explained this function. But what made Bucky curious was not that. You always gave him room number two, with a basic shower, a sink and a toilet. But there you were in number one, with a bathtub. He quickly detailed the room, slightly larger and apart from the bathtub there was nothing that differentiated it from number 2. As always, you had previously removed all objects that could be used as weapons. The pile of two clean towels overhung by harsh soap and shampoo – to avoid the risk of swallowing or too aggressive eye attacks – and the washcloth, were still carefully placed on the edge of the sink. So why a bathtub?

As if you were reading his mind, you turned around in a fluid movement. You took the time to appreciate Barnes' expressive gaze – it was so rare – before answering his questions.

"I assumed it must have been years since you had a real bath, you tried to avoid the Hydra subject, so I thought it could be a good idea?”

A good number of emotions passed through the blue of his eyes, only accentuating your apprehension about his reaction. No one had been even friendly to him for a long time, which meant that he was going to take a while before properly reacting. But as you had imagined, his gaze scanned the bathtub behind you at breakneck speed in search of a trap. I'm not like them, you thought with a pang of heart.

"I know what you must be telling yourself, but there is no trap Bucky,” his name resonated more than you would have imagined, “it's going to be long but believe me I'm not trying to kill you or hurt you"

A heavy doubt seemed to weigh, and you could only understand. This kind of sentence, he must have heard far too many before ending up electrocuted or worse. To help his process, you moved away and let him fully observe the place. His eyes locked on the shower head longer than expected, and once again, you felt nauseous as you imagined the traumas that must be replaying in his head. In that moment, you thought back to the first time you had led him into a bathroom. He had refused to get into the shower, his jaw clenched to the point that his teeth must have hurt, he had stared at you with a cocktail of indecipherable emotions in his eyes. You had ended up remembering the treatment reserved for Jews in the showers during the Second World War, and you had immediately apologized. Sorry, I should have thought of that, you had said guiltily, if you want you can just wash yourself with the washcloth and the faucet water, no need for the shower head today if you don't trust it. And the situation seemed to be happening again tonight, he was afraid that you would want to get rid of him during his shower, or bath in this case. Unfortunately, techniques have evolved since 39-45, especially since he was in the HQ of the greatest engineer in the United States, which meant that you could have found many methods to kill him while he was washing.

But you had to find a way to reassure him, because you had no intention of executing him quietly, and you wanted to be sincerely nice.

"Maybe if it reassures you I can-,” you hesitated before telling yourself that it was for a good cause, “I can stay with you? There's a curtain anyway"

Faced with his expression that swayed from surprise to doubt, you felt obliged to justify.

"If there's gas or an explosion, I'll die with you, which wouldn't be very appreciated by the team”, you paused slightly to gauge his reaction, “and if there's anything else threatening you can kill me yourself since I'll be right next to you”. You then brandish the door’s key between your two fingers, “on top of that I lock us in and leave the key on the edge of the bathtub, so I don't run away and lock you behind me"

You had the strong impression that in another time, Barnes would have smiled, maybe even laughed. Then, to your surprise, you saw a semblance of amusement in his eyes. An almost invisible veil that lasted only a second, just long enough for a distant version of him to take over the Winter Soldier. You couldn't help your smile, waiting despite everything for a more concrete reaction before reacting in return.

Bucky tried to get a dominant emotion out of the hubbub that was playing in his mind. You were definitely different, and he was beginning to understand why you had your place in the middle of a band of superhumans. And even if someone who spoke like you had the perfect profile to manipulate people at a high level, he risked taking his chance.

"Can I have twenty seconds alone to undress"

The shiver that electrocuted your entire body surely did not go unnoticed. His voice, his tone, gave a more directive than questioning turn to his question, and you only nodded slightly. In turn, you became as silent as him, too disturbed by the outburst of reactions on his part in such a short time. You left the bathroom, pushed the door behind you without closing it, because despite your shock, your unconscious valued your safety.

While you waited for some signal authorizing you to enter the room, you wandered on new thoughts. Barnes had not spoken to anyone from what you had been told. The cameras had recorded that during the fight to neutralize him he had spoken, a few Hydra men were with him so you had assumed that he was giving them orders in Russian. Natasha had been too busy trying not to die to pay attention to what he had said, but in hindsight, you wanted to know what had come out of his mouth that day. Tony liked to say that Russian was one of the least welcoming languages ​​in the world, but strangely hearing it from Bucky made you want to. Maybe it was his growling voice, maybe because Russian had been his “native” language for years. Besides Russian, he spoke other languages ​​according to reports, but then again he hadn’t shown off his skills to anyone but you. Besides, I’m pretty much the only one he’s seen since he arrived, you thought. But he had still had the opportunity when Bruce had come with you to visit him to check a wiring on the dashboard. He could have done it from his cell too, since it was completely transparent and he could see the hallway where many people passed, he could have talked. But he hadn’t, and without knowing why you had the feeling that he only wanted to talk to you.

The sound of water almost made you jump. You muttered a curse – hoping Bucky hadn’t heard – before slowly turning towards the door.

“Can I?” You rather ask to avoid a drama.

By the time he answered, you let your mind wander again. What if he was just naked in the middle of the room? Hydra had conditioned him to lose all sense of ownership, to make even his body no longer belong to him, which he meant was that nudity was no longer taboo and that on the contrary – given to the horrors these people had done – they could very well have forced him to stay naked to humiliate him further.

"Yes," his voice echoed vaguely.

Preparing yourself for the worst, you took a deep breath and kept your eyes high to avoid any eye contact in the wrong place. But as you opened the door you were relieved to see the curtain halfway drawn and Bucky already in the water. A feeling, which at the time you compared to a parent proud of their child, warmed your heart. It may not have been much in the eyes of the world, but you imagined the man's feelings when he plunged a body that had become almost unknown into warm water prepared for him, and him alone. Comfort, surprise, relief. A lot must have been going on in the Winter Soldier's head.

You closed the door behind you, locking the exit as planned. But as you moved closer to place the key next to him, a second wave of heat passed through your body as you realized something. He had only drawn the curtain halfway, thus hiding the lower part of his body but leaving you all the pleasure of seeing from his torso. Once again, in other measures you would not have found the situation moving, but rather comical. Except that this is the Winter Soldier, and all his communication was done without voice. He had left his arms and face visible so that you too could see that he wasn't a threat. In the same way that you had found a solution to his anxiety, he was taking a step towards you, showing you that you had no reason to fear him at the moment.

"Thank you," you murmured.

As if you were afraid of breaking the moment, you settled down without a sound. There was no chair here, but the floor suited you. You crossed your legs while resting your back against the small extension of the wall attached to the bathtub. This way, you stayed close enough to him while respecting a necessary distance to avoid seeing the rest of his naked body.

You forgot to check the time, no longer counting the minutes of observation that the man in front of you gave you before asking questions.

Bucky stayed in the water for a whole hour before it started to cool down. You spent all your time detailing his relaxed face, his eyes closed as if he was going to fall asleep from one second to the next. Then when he opened his eyelids again, he looked at you in turn for a few seconds, before asking you if he could get out of the bath. In his sentence, reality hit you again.

You had a mad desire to tell him that he was free, that he no longer had to take orders. You wanted to show him the world, to make him taste vanilla ice cream, to make him smell incense in churches, the greasy of triple burgers. You had the need to see him buy with his own money, help him get up from his first falls. When he looked at you with his big blue eyes, waiting for your permission to get out of a bath, you wanted to ask him for forgiveness, in the name of humanity. To promise him that no one would come and hit him, to promise this little boy that nothing would happen to him, that he could live a peaceful and happy life with his friends and family. But looking at the raw skin on his left shoulder, looking at the weapon that was implanted in his body, you felt your stomach turn. No one had been there to protect this child from Brooklyn, none of the people who had done this to him had even felt sorry for this man. And today he was sleeping in a cell capable of resisting the strength of the Hulk.

"You can get out of the bath," your voice broke.

He obeyed, rolling the superhuman muscles of his body to straighten up. You barely moved, being too far away in your thoughts to even think of looking away from him. A new blow was dealt to your heart as you realized that yes, he no longer had any notion of possession over his body. Two drops of water fell against your calf as he grabbed the largest towel and wiped his skin without emotion. The rough sound of the fabric made you shiver, and then you slowly stood up. He was taller than you, but neither that nor his robotic arm stopped you from grabbing his wet towel. His body failed to react when you passed the white fabric against his arm, his face was frozen in an expression of total incomprehension, faced with the softness with which the towel came into contact with his skin.

You finished your task, as if he were just a tiny puppy to wipe. Then, you took three steps back and fixed your eyes on his. You handed him some clean clothes, before taking the key back and heading towards the door.

“I really need some hot chocolate,” your voice still broken with tears declared, “and I’d love to share it with you, Bucky.”

Your slightly trembling hand wiped the moisture from your cheeks, then gradually turned back to the soldier after unlocking the exit. He had already dressed, the black jogging bottoms falling low on his hips. Bucky examined your face, and his eyebrows met in a half-confused, half-sad expression. He got close enough to you for you to feel the warmth he gave off.

“No cinnamon,” he said, “I don’t think I like it.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, telling yourself that only you could find yourself in these situations.

“No cinnamon.”

There was a first time for everything, and when you saw – later that night – whipped cream on the Winter Soldier’s lips, you thought that after all, the child could not be saved but that you could bring the man back to life.

pictures : Pinterest

dividers : @/strangergraphics, @/pommecita et @/thecutestgrotto

[fandomfluffandfuck]

uhm hi Mr. S can you do one like you did with Evanstan but it’s with them comforting a ftm guy? I adore your work and want to get a tattoo of some of your excerpts when i have the funds for it ❤️❤️❤️

related to this, maybe? I'm not totally sure

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

First, hi, you're so sweet, and while it's my impulse to be like, don't do that-! My words aren't good enough for that! It is also your choice, haha. I would be interested to know what words those are 👀 I feel like all I write is silly, kinky smut, lol.

Second, being not trans myself, I'm a little hesitant to write trans characters because it's not my experience and especially with comfort for dysphoria because I worry I'll be patronizing without realizing/call more attention to something that makes someone feel worse instead of better, but, I'll try. Especially 'cause I am a big believer in the idea that if you're a writer and you flat out can't even approach writing a whole swath of people then... you're a poor writer. If you're a man writing and you can't write a woman or a nonbindary person; if you're a straight writer and you can't write a queer character; if you're a cis writer and you can't write a trans character. Like, take in research and try and see the person for being a person with universal experiences. So, if there's anything shaky in here, I apologize in advance. I'm trying!

You're dragging yourself through what feels like mud--thick and heavy--instead of air as you climb out of your car and accidentally slam the door behind you, swaying ever so slightly on your feet.

You're so fucking exhausted that you don't even realize the weight you've thrown behind the reckless, automatic movement to close the car behind you until the sound hits your ears painfully. You wince. It's too fucking loud. It's too bright outside, too. Shit, everything is too much, and you don't want a piece of it--of anything.

The only thing you want to do is nothing. You just want to lay face down on the floor and sink into the foundation of the house, fuck it, you want to go deeper than that. Forget the cold concrete, you want to retire to the earth itself with heavy, cold dirt compacted on top of you, weighing down on all sides until it doesn't matter if your flesh and bones or just bones or nothing at all.

You don't want anything at all. You're exhausted by everything. Every moment, every interaction all day at work has just been wrong. You're just fucking sick of shit. Sick of being on the phone and having people mistake you for someone you're not. Sick of co-workers tip-toeing around you and being grandly and overly apologetic. Sick of delivery people and interns and other strangers around the office making assumptions.

The entire drive home, you've tried to put it all out of your mind. Reminding yourself that at least you don't have to deal with those fucking people at home. At least, at home, you can be. Just be. But... It's hard enough to turn your work brain off as is on good days, let alone bad days where your dysphoria eats you alive--gnashing teeth inside you and hungry, teethed mouths from the outside.

It's too much.

It feels like an impossible task to slog through the mud pulling at you to get from the driver's seat of your car to your front door. As relieving as it is to see your house, your home, it's rough to get inside.

You're saved from slamming the front door by tired limbs, at least. Heavy and tired, the best you can do is use your own body to press back against the inside of the door, shouldering it closed. In a few steps, barely making it to the mouth of the entryway, then, you flatten your back to the wall and sliding down to the floor as limp as a sheet of paper floating down from where it was pushed off the edge of a desk. You fall to sit on the floor without a hint of a fuck if you're getting dirt on your ass or not, next to the shoe wrack. And, for the first time all day, you breathe out, lungs deflating with a defeated rasp.

So caught up in your tangle of teeth and hollowness and heaviness, you don't even process the sound of the TV, turned on in the living room to your right, or the muffled foot falls of one of your boyfriends to the left.

And before either boyfriend even has a chance to know what's wrong or observe that there is anything wrong in the first place--

Sebastian's head turns from where he was just facing the flat-screen TV, "hey, look what the cat dragged in," he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling but not looking too carefully at you, keeping one eye on whatever show he's devouring.

Chris, then, appears from other side of the house, not with Sebastian chilling in the living room, catching up on TV, but about there, coming back from the kitchen, probably dumping off a drained beer bottle to the recycling. He, too, smiles at you, "hey, handsome," he thoughtlessly murmurs, going just a tiny, little ways out of his path to lean down, squeeze you with a big, burly arm around your shoulders and kiss the top of your head.

Any energy that you might normally have to poke fun back, making some comment about pussy cats or Seb's allergy to them just isn't there.

Barely, you keep yourself from further crumbling under the compliment and kiss. You're pretty crumbled as is with your back against the wall, spine curved, knees to your chest, arms crossed over your legs, wanting to crush into a ball. But... being wilted in such a way just makes everything worse. You let your arms drop from being folded over your knees. Ugh. Fuck this. You can hardly breathe with your arms squeezed into your sides, feeling your own body from your armpits, your ribs, all the way down your sides toward your hips. Fuck this.

'Handsome' coming out of Chris' mouth is the best thing you've heard all day, yet, at the same time... it feels too good to be true. If everyone on the phone and at work and strangers in your office and people on the street and everyone everywhere all the fucking time can't see you for who you're fucking supposed to be then... how do they? What if they're humoring you? What if they don't actually think that? What if--

Chris' hand is warm and heavy, solid, on your shoulder, traveling around to massage your neck, tapping at the top bone that portrudes from your neck when you hang your head. The heat of his body blazes through you as he squeezes the muscles there, lowering his voice to a quiet rumble and saying your name, your name, with enough twang for it to be a question.

He wants to know what's going on with you. He can probably guess, if he tried, but you know he wants to hear it from you. He wants to help. He's always so kind and generous and--

You can't assume anything bad of a man like him. He's geniune. Always so genuine. Open and honest. Still, you can't gather enough spirit to even lift your head. Shits fucking tough. It's just a bad day. You'd rather go to bed and try again later.

Yet, beyond the dark cavern you've made, your chin tucked, legs bunched to your chest, uncomfortable and also all you can bear to do, you hear the sounds of the sofa springs complaining as Seb extracts himself from the cozy furniture. The couch wishes he wouldn't, and you don't blame it. You too, find it terrible when Sebastian's all tucked into you and decides to move. He's the best. Kind and generous and sweet.

"Babe?" Seb asks, his careful probe directed toward you, Chris, or both. "Oh," he murmurs, probably spotting the both of you--you, crumbled, and Chris crouched and huddled in close, his hands on your neck and back, your shoulders, grounding you to this moment. "Long day?" The sound of Sebastian comes closer.

"You could say that," your voice draws up dry as if a rickety bucket pulled from a well on a spindly, fraying rope. There's no water at the bottom. Just. Empty and rough.

Chris huffs in amusement at your reply but stays close, knowing you're dead serious despite the layer of sarcasm coating your unenthusiastic words.

"Something in particular or, just, all of it?" Sebastian, again, sounds closer, drawn in by a rope. You're both grateful for it and a little worse off, drawing him in like this. In the same way that you spiral thinking that maybe they see you the same wrong way everyone else sees you, you can easily go off the deep end feeling as though you're being a burden. It takes effort to recall all the times they've assured you of the opposite. You're not sure you have the energy now.

Today.

"Ugh," you groan, feeling goosebumps lift on your skin, across your whole damn body thinking about it--feeling the toll of your whole day and the friction between you and everything else within it, "every minute of it."

"Anything we can do?" Chris asks, scooting closer, getting comfortable. He would stay here for the rest of the night if you wanted him to. Sebastian, too. They're both so good. Good to you.

"I don't know," you say, even while shaking your head no. It's hard, just, it's you. It's something that they can't reach inside you and touch--not something they can tinker with and fix. Unfortunately.

It's a pit in the center of your chest that's dark and hollow yet heavy, and it runs veins down your entire body, entangling you with knotted lines of thread, dragging you down like a deep sea fishing net. As nice as it is when they do offer you obvious reassurance and say how handsome you are and how strong you are and nonverbally feather their fingertips over your jaw or shoulders to show you how much they happen to love the body you, on your worst days, hate and feel completely alien from, or when they ask to borrow your cologne 'cause it smells nice or when they share clothes with you or anything else that's overt that reminds you you're an inarguable man to them, and a desirable man at that, sometimes... it can also get to be too much.

Sometimes, it reverts back in your head. Too much of a good thing? Like. It becomes--it becomes... it... it's something else. It's hard to even describe. They know that, which is why Chris is asking now. Sometimes exactly what you need is to be told you're strong and handsome and everything of the sort. And, sometimes, it's a call out that brings attention to how fragile you already feel. It can be everything you want, a barrage in the best way, or it can be your worst enemy. Though, when they ask when you can't handle all the compliments, your brain contorting them into something backward and demeaning--even though that's not true and you know that--it makes you feel that much more defeated.

It makes you feel more defeated now.

It fucking sucks that they can't help.

You would prefer if you could take it, if they could just say two things each and your day would be more normal, but...

That's not it. Not every day.

Today is a slog.

"What about..." Sebastian starts, trying to think of something to offer while Chris jumps in--

"Sweat it out?"

"Chris!" Seb squawks.

"What?" Chris asks, probably turning around to look up at him.

"Down boy," Seb huffs out a gentle, slightly scandalized laugh. You can picture him shaking his head, burying his face in his hands, even though you're not looking at him.

That makes Chris snort, catching the accidental innuendo he said now that it's been called out. He pats your knee apologetically, "I promise I meant the gym," he pauses, "unless-?"

With half a laugh stuck halfway up your throat, you manage a parroted, "down boy." Locker rooms, sweating from every place, being surrounded by mirrors that show your every angle, and a whole fuck ton of other men surrounding you, probably cis men, tricking you into comparing yourself to them, sounds like your personal version of the ninth circle of hell right about now. Thee worst thing. You know Chris genuinely enjoys working out--it makes him feel good, it makes him feel strong, it makes him feel like a man--so it's sweet of him to offer. But. Not today.

"Woof woof," Chris answers you and Sebastian, all that good, Boston-boy sincerity and goofiness.

"Hmm," Seb thinks out loud, "how about Chris skips the gym, and you two watch TV with me instead? I'm basically done with the episode I'm watching anyway. We can start something fresh. We'll get pj's and throw the couch blankets in the dryer to warm up and settle in."

"Way to be transparent, Sebastian," Chris teases softly, "using his bad day as an excuse to hold us hostage until we're as stockholmed into your weird, scary documentaries as you are."

"Noooo," Seb whines.

You crack a half-smile.

"Uh-huh, sure, baby," Chris quips, "we got your number, don't we, babe?" Chris drums his piano-playing fingers on your knee.

Their back-and-forth fills the space, pleasant, familiar, and boisterous, and shakes loose an agreeing, "yup" from within your chest. You don't feel quite so choked now. Its easier with them. It always is. They can't fix everything but they make it all seem less fucking tiring.

"See? He's on my side. Two against one, Seb." You can hear Chris' bearded smile.

You don't need to look up to know that Seb has a light blush staining his face or to know that his mouth is hanging open slightly. Just thinking about it pulls a chuckle out of you. They're idiots. But, your idiots who've offered to keep you company.

Now and always.

You'd be an idiot to not take them up on it.

"Okay," you sigh, not because you're put out, but because your shit, unfitting day of no one recognizing you is slowly cracking and peeling off from the inside of your too-tight body. "TV and blankets," you're distracted enough by Sebastian's suggestion and the opportunity to pull Seb's head into your lap to massage his scalp until he all but purrs like a kitten while Chris' head ends up on your shoulder, half on your chest, making you feel big and protective, that your traitorous mind doesn't remember to feel fragile or little while Chris grabs your hand to pull you to your feet. You know it's not because he thinks you can't do it yourself. It's because he cares for you. You. He sees you. He looks at you and sees you. Just--

"No disturbing documentaries at least three hours before bed but up until then..."

"Fair game?" Seb tilts his head to the side, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Fair game," you agree. "Just none later, you can't go giving Chris nightmares again." You feel good enough to join in with their good-natured teasing.

"That was one time!" Chris whines, clutching onto your hand as if pleading with you to let it go.

"One time too many, scaredy-cat," Sebastian rolls his eyes.

Chris sticks his tongue out because he's an actual man-child. But, he's distracted easily, saying, "so... if we're cuddling and spending the rest of the night on the couch, no workouts, then... snacks?"

That makes you laugh, "snacks," you nod, "fuck it, you might as well call it a cheat day, break out the jellybeans, too."

"Jellybeans?" Seb stops in his tracks from where he was heading to the bedroom, walking away, "we have jellybeans, and no one thought to tell me?"

"I thought you'd know by now 'cause this guy--" you shove Chris softly, stumbling towards the bedroom and comfortable clothes "--can't fucking live without 'em. He's half candy, don't you know?"

"That's true," Seb agrees in the same moment that Chris retorts--

"It's just means I'm sweet."

"Shut up," you joke, light for what the first time since you rolled out of bed this morning.

I hope that was what you wanted! <3

[bluehourbucky]

The Girl of Your Dreams

pairing: bestfriend!Bucky x (amab)trans!reader

summary: you're in love with your best friend but you don't think he's in love with you

a/n: uh I love me some angst hehe this is one of my fav tropes and I couldn't help myself I had to write it! I haven't seen many trans rep in fics maybe I just haven't come across any but I want everyone to feel welcome so I wrote this <3

warnings: probably some typos;

/ main masterlist / bucky /

_________________________________________

The music is deafening, you cant hear your own thoughts over the song playing currently, it doesn't help you've had a bit to drink and are starting to feel tipsy.

You didn't feel like going out tonight but your friends made you, more like your best friend made you with his puppy eyes that you couldn't deny.

Bucky has been your friend over 10 years ever since you've met at college, you two instantly clicked you've never had a friend like him. To be fair half of your life you were pretending to be something you're not. Going to college as yourself was so liberating.

You've been assigned a dorm at college but you've gone to the wrong building on your first day which has lead to you meeting Bucky.

"Uh hi?" your cheeks turn crimson red when a shirtless guy opened the door of your room.

"Is this room 306?"

"Yeah but my roommate has already settled in lemme see that paper." he snatched the paper out of your hands.

"So you're in the wrong building this is building B and yours is across the campus in building A."

You're trying so hard not to stare at his abs but you're failing miserably.

"Doll, you there?"

"Sorry yeah, I- uh is it too much to ask you to show me where this building is?"

"Sure no problem. Let's go."

"Uh you're not going to put on a shirt?"

"Nah this is how I get the chicks."

"You're gross."

"Am I? Didn't I just catch you staring at my glorious abs?"

"Again, you're gross."

It wasn't that sweet of a meeting but you couldn't be more thankful that Bucky has stayed your friend for so many years. If it wasn't for him you don't think you would've survived college. Underneath his tough exterior and his big personality was hidden a very sweet and thoughtful guy you've come to love so much.

Since then both of you had grown so much and your love towards him had changed into much more than just platonic love. Yes you still loved him as a friend but God what you wouldn't give to be kissed by him only once.

People come and go, but you and Bucky, you're sure it's forever - maybe not in the way you'd want it to be but it's more than enough.

It's been a while since you've given up on dating, for many reasons but mostly because you've never stopped comparing people you were with at the moment with Bucky. They could never be him. He didn't know that but all your mutual friends did.

It was easy for them to say just tell him how you feel whatever happens, happens. For you it's not so easy, you'd rather have Bucky as a best friend or not at all.

But damn it hurts watching him dance with women who look so ready to devour him.

Bucky like you hasn't been in a serious relationship for a while now, he says he's still to young to settle down and you respect that.

You wish you two had made a deal to get married to each other by the time you're 35 if neither of you are married by then - you would only have to wait a few more years. Unfortunately you did not and now you are stuck with watching other women take your Bucky.

"You look too pretty to be so sad." Natasha says as she sits next to you on a barstool.

"Thanks, but I'm fine." you say looking down at your drink in your hand.

"You know he's in love with you right?"

you laugh like it's the most ridiculous thing ever.

"Nat he's not in love with me. He's been in love before I've seen it and he's certainly not in love with me."

Natasha has been trying make both you and Bucky confess your feelings for each other and she's been failing miserably. Steve was also involved but he also had no luck. He isn't sure who's more stubborn you or Bucky.

"I'm just saying you should give it a shot and stop being so stubborn. You deserve to be happy."

"I am happy."

"You've been staring at that woman since she approached Bucky if looks could kill she'd be dead."

"I am not staring. She's gorgeous and Bucky deserves someone like that."

Natasha rolls her eyes, she loves you but damn can you be stubborn.

"Well seems like he doesn't think so."

Before you can ask her what she's talking about Bucky hugs you from behind and wraps his arms around your waist.

"You know it's a shame not to show off the outfit it took you four hours to decide on." He whispers in your and you immediately get goosebumps. It's not like he never does this you're just overwhelmed.

"Hey, are you okay?" suddenly he's serious when you don't reply or look at him, usually you'd tell him off or something but you're quiet.

"I'm fine Jamie."

"Come on, you're gonna dance with me and tell me what's wrong." Bucky pulls you by the hand to the dance floor.

"Bucky no I'm not in the mood." you try to pull your hand out of his gasp but he just puts his hand on your waist and leads you like that.

He starts dancing with you and you laugh when he starts doing Macarena to a Nicki Minaj song. You can't even bring yourself to be embarrassed.

"See I knew I could make you smile." He says and you roll your eyes. Your heart stops when he grabs your waist and pulls you into him. He's dancing with you like he did with that woman maybe you're even closer to him than she was. But you don't want to get into your head and get ideas.

"I'm not in the mood to dance I think I'm gonna call it a night." You untangle yourself from Bucky and rush out of the club.

"Wait!" you turn around and notice Bucky who has followed you out.

"What's going on? Are you okay?" He puts his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm tired." you try to shrug him off.

"Did I do something?"

Your heart aches at his hurt tone.

"No, it's just..." you inhale, milion thoughts racing through your mind.

"I can't pretend that I'm not hurt every time I see you with another woman. I can't help but think how much I wish that was me you're holding, me you're kissing, me who you're loving! And I know that will never be me!"

you yell, tears falling from your eyes, and you can't even bring yourself to look at Bucky.

"How long have you felt that way?"

"I don't know when I fell in love with you. Maybe I've loved you since the beginning, and I just tried to push it down. Maybe it was gradual and when I started falling I didn't realise I was and then it was just you who I wanted."

"I've loved you for years, doll. But you are so out of my league you deserve much better than what I have to offer. If I knew you'd felt this way I would've told you that years ago."

Your jaw hangs open you're looking at Bucky in disbelief, did you hear him right. - out of his league????

"Are you insane? Out of your league?! All I ever wanted was to be the girl of your dreams and you're telling me that you think you're not enough for me?!"

"You are the girl of my dreams! God I hated seeing you date other people. I know that's selfish when I'd been sleeping around to get over you! I was so afraid of telling you because I would rather have you as a best friend or not at all."

Bucky takes a breath and continues.

"What I'm saying is I love you and I know there's better guys out there who'll love you better but please if you give me a chance."

"Better guys then you? Who? The guy who asked me If I still have a dick? The guy who asked to feel my boobs? Wow so many good options."

Buckys blood boiled, the amount of first dates that you've been on have been awful because some people are literally just ignorant assholes. He wanted to beat every single one of them.

"God I hate them I still don't know why you didn't let me beat them up."

You both laugh at that, he'd wanted to beat up many people over the years.

"You're impossible but I love you."

"I love you too. And I'd really love to kiss you right now if you'd let me."

you don't answer verbally but you grab the back of Buckys neck and pull him in finally after years of dreaming about it you kiss the man you've been in love with.

You've put everything into that kiss, and you don't pull away until you're both out of breath.

"Damn, we should've done that a lot earlier!"

"I-"

Bucky pulls you in for another kiss and you instantly melt in his arms.

______________________________________

"Where did they go?" Steve asks Natasha not being able to find neither you or Bucky for a while.

"Uh I don't know they would've told us if they left." Natasha replies.

Natasha and Steve exit the club and immediately notice the two of you making out against the brick wall just few steps outside the club.

"Finally! I don't know what took them so long!"

__________________________________________

[The End]

likes comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

[chuckbass-love]

hi love!! can I request a Bucky Barnes x trans!female (pre-op) reader where Bucky is being his typical charming, boy-ish, overly-confident self. He and the reader have been crushing on each other for a very long time and Bucky decides to ask her out. Reader is a little put off because ''I'm not sure you'll like a gal like me'' and Bucky is so quick to put that thought out of her mind and proceeds to ask her out anyway. followed by a cute and fluffy date uwu

Hi, i love getting requests from you and i wasn’t going to write this today but i had to. I hope you love it. Feedback is always welcome so i know your thoughts on it!

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes. x Trans!Female reader

Warnings: Fluff galore

Word Count: 1,195

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @peters-suit go check them out 💕

Woman Like You

“Come on you know you wanna go” he continues to tickle you as you refuse.

“Don’t make me drag you along” 

“Bucky stop” you giggle, trying to push him off you.

“Not until you come with me tonight” you roll your eyes, sighing before giving in.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go with you to this stupid speed dating thing” 

He punches the air in victory as he releases you from his hold. You stand up and walk away from him. His eyes are still fixed upon you as he watches your hips sway with every step you take.

“So what time is this thing anyway” he shrugs, checking his phone and squinting.

“You’re such an old man, let me check” you kneel down on the couch next to him, taking his phone from his hands. He ogles you, watching your every move. 

“Staring is rude y’know” he looks away, chuckling

“It’s hard not to stare when you practically flaunt this sexy body in front of me every day” you feel your cheeks heat up a little.

It’s nothing new though. You and Bucky do this every time you’re around each other. You flirt, it comes naturally to the two of you and it’s harmless fun. It’s just how you both are. More him than you though. 

He flirts and you flirt back.

“I know. Anyways it’s at 7:00pm so i’ll go get ready now. Meet back here in an hour?” you ask, he nods.

You head into your room and immediately go to the bathroom to wash your hair and body. 

Once you’re done you start picking out your clothes. You opt for some slim fit black jeans with a Nirvana shirt, tucked in with a belt and some heels, paired with a leather jacket. Simple yet stylish.

Makeup time. 

Nude lip and smokey eye this time. It goes well with the clothes.

“WOW” Bucky gasps as his eyes settle on you walking into the room.

Sam and Steve are also picking their jaws up from the ground.

“Guys, stop slobbering already” you wave them off.

They grab their jackets and you all head out. Ready for a night of speed dating, courtesy of Sam and his match making ways.

“No one ever finds love here” you roll your eyes, nudging Bucky.

“I dunno, i have a feeling i’ll hit the jackpot tonight” he winks, you shove him away, taking your name badge and writing it down. You follow orders and sit in one of the empty chairs.

Time to get this over with.

---------------------

10 minutes into speed dating and you’ve not spoken to any guys that interest you in the slightest. 

Sam sits down at your table next and you both laugh.

“So any luck yet?” you ask, he shakes his head no.

“How about you?” you shake your head too.

Before you know it, times up. 

Next up. Bucky. He sits down at your table, smiling like a cheshire cat.

“What is it Barnes?” 

He shrugs.

“Nothing, just think i’ve finally hit the jackpot” 

You can’t help but smile. He’s cute. He’s always been cute really but you’ve never thought of him like that. Actually that’s a lie. You have but it soon ended when you realised you were a fool for even thinking anything could happen.

“So, any luck?” he asks.

“Not yet unfortunately” 

“Well how about me then?” 

You freeze, trying to figure out what the hell he just said.

“What about you?”

“How about you give me a go?”

“I dunno. I’m not exactly sure i’m your type. And i’m also not sure you’d like a gal like me” he sits back in his chair, letting out a deep breath.

“You never know, people can surprise you” 

Before you can say anything, the bell goes. Time’s up. 

Next is some random guy. He sits down, introducing himself immediately and then he begins to ramble, you find your eyes wondering to see who Bucky is talking to.

He’s looking right back at you.

Before you know it, the event is over.

You stand up, walking over to the front desk and handing your sheets in to the woman. You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you but you ignore it for now.

---------------------------

Bucky shoos Sam and Steve away so you two can have some time alone in the lounge.

“So about my comment earlier” he starts “I didn’t mean to catch you off guard. It’s just you know how we are with each other. We flirt, there’s no denying our chemistry Y/N and you can say no if you want, but i guess all i’m asking for here is a chance”

“Bucky” he kisses you before you can finish talking. The kiss is deep and passionate. Not like any kiss you’ve had before. 

As he pulls away, you smile at each other.

The kiss was good. More than good, it was breathtaking. 

“Now, the night is still young. So how about you change into comfier clothes and meet me outside in 10″ he suggests, you don’t have time to decline, he walks off.

You can’t lie, you’re thrilled. This is actually happening. Bucky Barnes just kissed you.

So this is what it feels like to finally get your crush.

You rush around your room, scrambling to find your sweatpants. You find some yoga pants instead, shoving them on along with a baggy shirt and some trainers. You head outside, looking around to find Bucky when your eyes settle on the perfect view

Bucky is sat on the grass, a basket next to him and he’s on a blanket.

“Care to join me for a late night picnic?” your cheeks heat up and the whole dam zoo is in your stomach as you take a seat next to him.

“You didn’t have to rush around like this Buck” he places a hand to your cheek, holding your head. 

“I know i didn’t have to but i wanted to. I want you to see i’m serious about this. About wanting a chance with you”

He leans in, kissing you once again. You melt into his hand. His touch is so warm and welcoming.

“Come on, eat something. I have sandwiches, chips, chocolate” you find yourself just smiling at him as he talks. 

You opt for a sandwich first as he starts.

This is heaven. It’s simple yet so thoughtful. It’s clear he wanted to impress and he’s done that.

“I know it seems like all this flirting has been strictly innocent but if we’re being honest here. I did it in hopes that something would spark up but it never did” 

Now’s your chance Y/N. Confess.

“If we’re being honest here Buck, i’ve liked you for a long time but i just didn’t think anything would happen so i gave up before i even tried” you feel silly admitting this. 

He rests his hands over your smaller ones. 

“Don’t get all shy on me now doll” 

Doll? DOLL?

You calm your nerves and smile.

“I’m glad you feel the same. It’s honestly a relief” he leans in again.

His lips brush yours before he claims them as his. 

You’re now officially dating Bucky Barnes and it feels great.

-----------------

If you want to be in a tag list for all things Seb Stan & Bucky, let me know!

General Tag List: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @princess-evans-addict @badbo1-evans @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @adriannajackson @dummiesshort @cevans-fics 

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

[statticscribbles]

Initial

Summary: Marvel, One shot, Bucky/Stark ftm Reader; Soulmate AU where your soulmates initials are on your body

TW: Transphobia; misunderstanding of transitioning.

”You’re telling me I have a brother?” Tony glares at Steve who grins a little, nodding.

“Mhm, could have more; you know how Howard was..”

“Hah, yeah sounds just like my shit dad.”

“Probably a half brother I’m guessing?” Bucky’s half asleep coffee pot tipped to almost fill his mug before he shrugs and chugs straight from the pot.

“CLINT! You taught Barnes a bad habit.” Tony shouts and Clint laughs as he drops from the ceiling.

“Please don’t do whatever he was just doing too.” Steve grumbles and Bucky laughs a little.

“He was fixing a light.”

“Babe I could’ve gotten Dum-e to do that.”

“He works hard enough as it is..” Clint traces his fingers over his initials on Tony's neck. Steve laughs when Tony swats his hands away.

“He doesn’t work at all, stop. Seriously, it’s weird.” Tony huffs but doesn’t do anything when Clint resumes his tracing.

“Aww frosty bitter about not having initials?”

“I have them.” Tony turns to Steve for confirmation who nods.

“It’s not me; someone he never met; most likely dead.”

“Definitely dead, but I met him.”

“Buck? Really?” Steve looks excited but then worried.

“Yeah part of the program.. Not sure really who he was; if he was like me or, they just found him and…”

“What is it?”

“They changed something about him; made him more efficient…”

“Efficient?”

“He failed something; this was a second chance for him.”

“A second chance? I thought Hydra just killed rejects.”

“Yeah.”

“The Red Room is the same; but they noted the initials; wanted to see if it worked.” Fury’s not grinning but there’s a shimmer in his eye.

“So you’re saying Hydra what? Took a Red Room kid? I thought they didn’t train men.”

“Not since wolf spider’s failed; but yes, they train girls; their widows.”

“So what Hydra took a failed widow and chopped her up to make another winter soldier?” Tony grimaces.

“They took your sister; kidnapped her.”

“Half sister..” Tony comments and Fury laughs.

“You really think Howard wanted his first born to be a girl?”

“So what; dear old dad fucked up my sister; forcer her to be a boy and then when she got taken he figured good riddance and shifted all his neglect to me?” Tony huffs.

“Well I was always a guy; but I appreciate the concern brother dear.” You step from behind Fury and laugh a little.

“You know about me?”

“I’ve been a shield agent for about five years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah when Hydra’s transitioned to using the Asset under Strike team asshole; I was let go; shall we say.”

“Letting go means killing to them..” Steve frowns and Bucky nods slowly.

“Normally yes, but Y/N here was pushed to be an undercover operative; he was well known in the office. When the Strike team went down, Y/N would have been collateral damage but we know a thing or two about preventing that..” Fury smirks and Tony arches an eyebrow.

“You sure you’re not trying to use Y/N, my darling brother as leverage against me and Barnes? I mean finding out you have a brother; and his soulmate is a teammate; it would make sense to go that route.”

“It would, if you had something I wanted; I’m just repaying old debts; consider everything settled.” Fury nods and you grin back.

“Thanks Nick, we’re good now.” You laugh when everyone turns to you clearly wanting an explanation.

Support My Writing?

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

I want people to know if you are black, white, plus size, gay, bi, lesbian, tran, male, female, old or young, I will write for you.

You can request anything specific to you from me. If you need to talk about your problems, I'm here. If you need advice, I'll give you the best answer I can.

This blog is for everyone no matter who you are!

Also want to remind you no matter your ethnicity I will write and support you!

[solemncadaver]

BUCKT STANS HIS BIRTHDAY IS IN LITERALLY TWO DAYS COME ON FOOLS WE GOT THIS

[marvel-lous-things]

Peter, waking up in the soul world: Mr Winter are we in hell?

Bucky: nah kid I don't thi-

Bucky: *sees Sam*

Bucky:

Bucky: yeah we're in hell

[twodapperqueens]

Imagine coming out to Sebastian Stan as gay/bi/lesbian/trans/Ace/queer/etc., and him being completely gentle and understanding with how nervous you are around the topic and wrapping you up in a big, tight hug, saying thank you for telling him and that he still loves you, and will always support you.

Gif not ours~

[softevnstan]

From the NSFW genarator

 reader handing Bucky Barnes a bowl of cream/chocolate/honey and telling them to spread them on their own body where they want it eaten by reader. Bucky Barnes eagerly complies, and everything starts (or ends) with a sloppy smear on person Bucky Barnes's lips.

pairing. bucky barnes x gender neutral!reader

summary. for valentine's day, bucky brings you a bowl of whipped cream and strawberries. with a game proposition, you very quickly come to learn you're hungry for a different type of cream.

warnings. bucky loves you with all his heart but he's also a hard dom at heart. misuse of strawberries and whipped cream, dom/sub undertones, spitting/spit, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, food play - whipped cream, facefucking, petnames (specifically 'doll' and 'sugar', but these are intended to be for any partner, not just f), fluff, pre-established relationship SMUT - minors DNI. reader's bits are not mentioned in depth here so gender is ambiguous, i like all of my stories to be as inclusive as i can make them :)

a.n. hi, nonny, i wanted this to be out on valentine's day but some things in my personal life held that up. additionally: kinda interpreted this a little bit of the way i wanted to and the way i thought i'd best enjoy writing it, so bucky is the one with the game in mind (bonus: listen to this song as your background music like i did to add to the experience) -- reader is nerdy and likes things like books and candles and reading (reader is me projecting lbr)

also winterdevil friendship briefly mentioned bc i can

w.c. 7.3k

You were only a few pages into your new book - ‘Good Omens’; You’d heard good things about the story in its witty writing and amusing tale. 

Bucky had been paying attention when you’d both gone on a bookshop date and scoured the shelves hopefully for the novel. Even when asking about the bookstore’s directory, the worker reluctantly let you know the book wasn’t in stock. You’d shrugged the loss off with a warm smile; ‘Better luck next time, right?’

Imagine your delight when Bucky brought you a red gift bag with four golden arrows decoratively laid horizontally and stacked upon one another with the words ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’. Inside the bag had even more delightful contents; Peeling past the elegant golden tissue paper, you were excited to find your very own copy of the novel you’d been unable to find in stores. Additionally was a box of chocolates and a candle scented ‘Rose & Apple’.

“Aw, Bucky,” you swooned, “I thought we said no gifts…?” “I know,” Bucky admitted, moving around the kitchen island to come to stand behind you; Arms of flesh and vibranium slowly winding around your waist to hug your body to his own, settling into a comfortable hold so naturally. “But I like seeing you smile.”

You looked fondly at the cover of the book, thumb gently brushing over the paperback cover before setting it down on the counter. You bit your lips together in an appreciative smile, and you felt Bucky’s grin against the side of your neck where he tucked away. Nose rubbing affectionately against your pulse before pressing a chaste kiss.

“...At least now you won’t feel surprised when I tell you I got you a few gifts of your own,” you reveal as you turn your head to usher Bucky’s chin up. “Oh, of course, you got me something anyways!” Bucky huffed on an amused laugh, eyes crinkled in the corners with his smile, and your heart was left to melt.

He nosed into you lovingly, nuzzling and then pressing foreheads together. You took the opportunity to drape your arms around Bucky’s shoulders in a warm embrace; the rest of your quiet valentine’s day was spent peacefully with expensive sushi ordered to your shared apartment, moving the furniture and putting his records on to sway together playfully with giggles and kisses, then wrapped up with movies in the living room and popcorn kernels in between the couch cushions from the way you’d been pelting pieces at one another. You needed no fancy dinners or dates. You both were capable of making a night-in a remarkable memory all on its own.

Though the favor you called in from Zemo wound up with gifting Bucky a signed copy of ‘The Hobbit’ signed by J.R.R. Tolkien himself, and that was pretty good at also making an evening remarkable. The absolute awe in Bucky’s eyes and the way he’d gone slack-jawed when unwrapping the book was worth the six digits that were poured into the cost. Zemo had more than enough to spend and was happily willing to pay off his debt. A book was child’s play for Baron - simple.

You'd only been a few pages into your new book; Having been eager to begin drinking in the story as soon as possible. Bucky knew you were a bookworm; it's part of what you two had so in common - Bucky knew how to appreciate a good story, too. Eagerly diving into the paperback and excitedly tearing through pages was what you did best; On Multiple occasions where Bucky and you had surprised one another with blind-book dates and annotated novels for one another, reading was perhaps a love language between the both of you.

So you’d think Bucky would’ve expected that from you as soon as that book was between your nimble fingers. Good luck with any attempts that may sway your attention or distract you as a whole; everyone should know it’s useless to try. But Bucky wasn’t everyone else. Bucky knew you and knew how to wriggle his way in between you and a good book. 

And his key tool for that this evening seemed to be a wooden food tray with a bowl of hulled strawberries and a tub of whipped cream, and then an additional can that made you raise a brow. Any skepticism was dropped in moments given the natural delight you felt with Bucky in a room. When it was just the two of you, he was the sweetest man you’d ever met. “Surprise,” Bucky beamed softly, earning an amused smile from you in the process. He moved from the archway of the kitchen to step into the living room, rounding the coffee table to take his seat beside you on the couch. 

“Strawberries? You shouldn’t have,” you hum appreciatively, picking up your bookmark to hold your page; You didn’t dog-ear your pages like some savage. 

“Strawberries and Valentine’s Day go hand in hand last I checked. Whipped cream just makes it even better.” the soldier defends, earning a playful roll of your eyes. 

“You’re makin’ me feel like a chump here, Bucky, we said no gifts and surprises,” you softly protest albeit with little sternness to your voice. Book abandoned on the side table of the couch, you leaned to reach for a piece of fruit.

“Ah ah ah,” Bucky stops you, vibranium hand coming to cover the mouth of the bowl. “This isn’t for nothin’, I wanna play a game, sweetheart…” The sultry purr to Bucky’s voice insinuates he’s up to no good. “Huh?” You pause, confused as you look between Bucky’s hand and the bowl. A game? “I should’ve known there’d be a catch. You’re a menace, James.” The words are light and teasing; No real harm behind them.

“Oh quit bein’ so dramatic,” Bucky playfully chides with a teasing pinch to your outer thigh - it makes you squeak in delight and burst into soft laughs before shooing his hand away. Bucky absolutely thrives on your smile and laugh; It drives him crazy. “I’m not dramatic, I’m melodramatic!” you titter happily. “Well, if by ‘melodramatic’ you mean ‘theatrical’,” Bucky commented with a mischievous grin as he safely set the tray on the coffee table. You took the liberty of pulling the throw pillow you’d been laying on and help it live up to its name; Hitting Bucky in the shoulder with the cushion for his ‘theatrical’ comment.

“You love me and my melodrama theatrics all the same, don’t act like you don’t.” “Alas, it’s true.” he sighs sweetly, nothing but love in his gray eyes as he says it; Smitten. The softness of it helps melt some of the banter that had been building. “...And what was this ‘game’ you were talking about, exactly, Bucky?”

Bucky’s eyes light up with arousal, wetting his lips and treating the question as though he couldn’t wait to answer. “Have you ever plaid chicken before, sunshine?” Bucky inquires, and your head shakes side to side. “Alright, I brought out whipped cream. Wherever one person smears whipped cream, the other has to lick it off. The first one to refuse - or chicken out - loses.” 

Your own gaze widens with delight at the sound of the provocative game. At least a game was something you could get behind, and it definitely had a means of spicing things up with Bucky; Not that your sex life was boring, but something new every now and again was exciting for the both of you.

“Aw,” Bucky tuts sympathetically, “I can see it on your face, poor thing. The way your eyes lit up… Sheesh, people are gonna think m’not takin’ care of my babydoll.” The heat that rises to your face is familiar and leaves your chest feeling fluttery. “You do take care of me, Bucky,” you softly utter, squeezing your thighs together. “I wanna play.” the words are airy when they leave your lips, and the voice in which you speak makes Bucky stifle a soft groan in reply.

“Knew you would, baby. Such a perfect little thing, always onboard for whatever I want to try.” Bucky hums his approval and something inside of you swoons for the praise. He even takes a moment to use his fingers and tenderly brush the stray hairs from your face; touching you nothing but gently.

“Uh huh,” you confirm with a jerky nod and a doe-eyed look as Bucky smiles, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. He reaches for the container of whipped cream, popping the lid off. “Wait.” The thought creeps up on you.

Bucky stills briefly, eyes flickering to your face in a brief haze of concern. Pausing the act he’s been putting on for a moment to assure you’re not being genuine when you ask him to ‘wait’. You swallow around the tightness in your throat, attention solely on Bucky as you watch his studying face. Leave it to Bucky to be ready to fret over you at the drop of a dime.

“What if I win?” Bucky’s expression falls for a brief moment before twisting into disbelief and amusement. He laughs, entertained but relieved that’s where your concerns lie rather than somewhere more concerning.

“If you win, huh? Hmm,” Bucky takes a deliberate moment to hum and you shift with eager anticipation. Curious for whatever delicious thoughts may be brewing in that beautiful head of his. “Why don’t you choose — What would my babydoll want as a prize…?” the drawl of his voice nearly makes you squirm where you sit on the couch.

Your mind runs wild with ideas for half a moment before settling on something simple; “You have to go down on me, mouth only. No hands to help.” A swell of pride in your chest at the thought, you could already imagine Bucky looming over you and the warmth of his breath on your core before delving in without the aid of his hands. 

Bucky seems to like the idea as well if the devilish way he watches you is anything to go off of.

“Sounds like a deal, and if you lose, you go down on me, sunshine.” You would hardly consider that a losing game.

“Sounds like a fair match - may the best player win,” you chuckle, the words a meager attempt to take back the reigns on your confidence and not become complete mush for this man by default. Bucky had this charming way of entrancing you. He did it to everyone that got to know him, half the time Bucky didn’t even need to think about it.

“I’ll get us started,” the sergeant takes lead - setting the lid of the whipped cream container on the coffee table and using a spoon he’d brought along with him to scoop up a dollop from the container. Messily, Bucky smears a dab across his bottom lip - all too aware of what he’s doing. Bucky may look innocent, but there are devil horns holding up that halo. You wonder if that’s a reflection of his friendship with Matt.

The grin Bucky wears is devilish when he looks at you; Eyes piercing and somehow even seductive with a swipe of whipped cream on his bottom lip. A soft giggle emits from your being before leaning to pluck up a strawberry. You use the piece of fruit to swipe along Bucky’s bottom lip, successfully scooping up traces of the whipped cream before taking a bite of the strawberry. The taste is ripe and sweet, no wonder they’re occasionally considered a form of natural aphrodisiac. 

Bucky’s flesh hand finds your wrist tenderly after the first bite, causing you to arch a brow. 

“Licking, sunshine.” Bucky corrects. “Pick at strawberries all you want, but the rules of the game required you to use your mouth. Otherwise, that’s not nearly as fun, is it?”

It’s moments like those that made you feel all light and fuzzy. When Bucky talks to you as though you were a helpless and useless thing; It makes your brain fog up with cotton with the way he speaks down to you. 

“No, Bucky,” You exhale sweetly. “Good baby,” Bucky’s hand releases your wrist to lift and cup your cheek, giggling when you’re faced with the whipped cream on his lip again. Not as easy to take him so seriously. Bucky gives an amused huff at the response. “Now c’mon, before this melts and you have to lick that up, too.”

Popping the rest of your strawberry into your mouth, you finished chewing and swallowing before cupping Bucky’s jaw to steady him. Holding him in place when you lean forward into his space; being able to smell the traces of sandalwood and cinnamon on his skin made you shiver. It didn’t matter how many times you were like this with Bucky, your belly filled with butterflies every time in the best way. Tentatively you drag your tongue across his bottom lip, whipped cream sweet on your tongue.

There’s no chance to pull away when Bucky catches your lips in an immediate kiss following. Mouth slotting to yours in the opportunity that the man has, grinning against your lips like the cat that got the cream. His large palm lifted to come and cradle your cheek, the tips of his fingers brushing into your hair where it cups under your eat. Palm cooler than the average person due to the way his body ran cold, but your own warmth helped balance out the temperature difference from time to time. Your cheek felt like fire beneath this hand. 

Bucky kisses you hungrily, a searing claim when he licks hot into your mouth and makes you whimper and shiver. Your fingers still hold his bearded cheeks as Bucky takes his time tasting you; Enjoying it far more than any whipped cream he could ever buy. Bucky parts only after he’s left you breathless, wiping a thumb at his bottom lip with a low chuckle. Your head is left to spin with your heart hammering in your ears.

“Been achin’ to kiss you like that all day,” Bucky confesses. Your lips tingle, mourning the loss of Bucky pressed against your like that. “You’ve had countless chances, Bucky - we’ve been here alone all day.” You defend while lacking a legitimate malice to your tone. 

“It’s different,” you almost wave him off at the defense and make yourself busy with the whipped cream when Bucky elaborates. “I wanted to be soft with you today; I think we both deserve a little tenderness every once in a while. But sexy games give me a reason to kiss you like that.”

“Sometimes I struggle to believe that you’re the same stoic sergeant everyone quakes in front of.”

“I’m not; Not with you.” The words are raw, and it would make your heart turn to mush if you weren’t turned on by his kindness.

“You’re sexy when you’re sweet,” you coo, fingers brushing up his jaw to draw Bucky in for another quick kiss.

“And you’re sexy all the time, sunshine.” Bucky hums right back before meeting you partway for a small exchange of pecks. You both linger there for a moment, the kisses stolen not nearly as heady or heavy. Then you’re taking your turn. Parting lips and Bucky nearly chases your touch for more when you tut your tongue. A mock of his earlier tutting. “Aww,” you echo back to him, half condescending and half frisky. “I see it on your face, people are gonna think m’not taking care of my Buckybear.” though with your delivery, the words are far less menacing and end with you breaking the character to laugh, especially when Bucky is already crumbling into chuckles in front of you.

“‘Buckybear’?” Bucky parrots incredulously and entertained. “Trying out new nicknames,” you say with an innocent shrug, plucking up the spoon to get more cream on the utensil. “I think it’s cute.” “I like it,” Bucky agrees, shifting to get comfortable on the couch while his predatory gaze follows your hand. “It’s a nickname you gave me, just… Maybe let’s not let Sam hear this one.” “Does he still call you ‘Buckaboo’ sometimes?” You ask, momentarily distracted and appreciative that you and Bucky are able to break up seductive moments with cute ones. You’re convinced it’s proof you’re both truly in love to be able to be this casual and open with one another.

“Unfortunately. Torres heard Sam over the commlinks last week, both of them were dying of laughter.” Bucky deadpans, clearly not finding the situation as humorous as the boys did. You snicker with a shake of your head, assessing the spoon in your hand for a moment before setting it down in the container and abandoning it as a whole.

Instead, you pull your shirt up and over your head – stripping away the layer. The response it earns from Bucky fuels your confidence, the way he straightens up on the couch and wolf-whistles at each inch of skin you show off for him. Bucky always has a way of making you feel perfect; All your insecurities blanch when you were able to feel his comforting presence, always leaving you feeling loved and unequaled in your skin.

“Givin’ me a show, doll?” Bucky muses, a small tilt of his head while he studies you. “Why, enjoying the view?” You coo in turn, meeting Bucky with that same playful banter - this was a game after all, and games are meant to be fun. You discard the top haphazardly to the floor, no doubt to be gathered tomorrow morning. 

“Oh absolutely. Got the prettiest baby in all of New York… I’m a very lucky man.” When Bucky speaks, his voice is thick and warms your face. Bucky is very much the flatterer.

“I know you like it when I say things like that,” doesn’t even hesitate to single you out on the thought. “When I remind you of how precious you are to me, sugar… Just how much I fucking adore you.” Bucky’s voice drips with lust and devotion. Utterly in love. It almost tempts you to drop the game before it gets too far in and have him now; Peel away the remaining layers separating you two and open your legs in an invitation for Bucky to fuck you so roughly into the couch that the legs break and the neighbors know Bucky’s name loud and clear.

God, you’re fucking whipped for this man.

Sometimes you’re still not prepared for the outpour of loving words; Still, you’re trying to remember that Bucky means the things he says and isn’t merely humoring you as exes have in the past. Bucky is nothing if not genuine. 

“Keep sweet talking me, Sarge, and this game might end sooner than you want it to,” You warn with a coy smile before picking up the formerly abandoned spoon. “I’m bein’ honest,” Bucky defends, lifting his hands in a feigned and mischievous. “You know you love when I talk sweet to you, anyways, sugar.”

“You also know it makes me freeze up; I never know what to say things like that, Bucky.” a gentle reminder and your cheeks hurt from smiling - do you look stupid? Bucky would love you anyways, truth be told. 

“Oh, but that’s the best part,” Bucky replies, leaning forward on the couch and closer into your bubble of space. Taking his time letting his eyes drink in the pretty sight you make for him without your top. “It turns you into putty, baby. You start floatin’ so easy, ‘s cute - it’s worth it gettin’ you cock-drunk in the end.”

You stutter - jaw clenching and you feel the tips of your ears burn. Bucky takes more sadistic amusement in the responses he pulls out of you. Plays you like a fiddle. It embarrasses you as much as it makes your thighs tighten and a wetness forms in your underwear. He works you up for fun. It’s maddening and exhilarating and perfect.

“Buckyyy,” you whine, pitiful and with a harmless scowl. Bucky’s laugh is rich and makes your face soften almost immediately. “Well, on with it, sunshine.” Bucky nods towards the spoon clutched between your fingers.

You take the moment to regain your composure. A deep breath - Attempting to shake out Bucky’s influence and his attempts to deduce you to a ditz so soon. Then, with the cold metal of the spoon, you smear a generous streak of whipped cream from your left clavicle to the top of your left breast. 

When you lift your attention from your careful work, you find Bucky’s hungry eyes on you. Looking like a wolf preparing to strike his prey; Oh, to be littered with bites from Bucky’s mouth sounds like a dream. 

“You’re bold tonight. I can already tell this is gonna be fun,” Bucky husks, voice low before moving into your space. 

Right hand coming flush against your hip before smoothing up to frame your chest. He wedges himself between your legs, bringing your back flush with the arm of the couch as he looms over you; The semi that the soldier has been packing pressing prominently against your ass through his jeans. His vibranium hand brushes your hair out of your face, eyes studying you.

“You’re always so small under me...” Bucky hums, metal fingers brushing down your cheek as you lick some of the remaining whipped cream off the spoon; Putting on a show with the slow and deliberate lave it was the tip of his cock. 

Bucky groans, his touch hardening where he holds your chest before lowering himself to let his hot mouth lick over your collarbone. Trailing down, his tongue glides across creamy sugar while littering open-mouth kisses to your flushed skin. His beard scratches against tender flesh and you keen underneath him - Bucky subtly presses tighter against your ass so his cock can make itself well acquainted and he growls low in his chest. Hot breath fanning over your flesh.

The soldier’s hot mouth threatens to go further, tempted to explore every inch of your delicate skin and leave you covered in hickeys. Bucky practices self-restraint, but not before licking up the swipe of whipped cream and suckling a deep hickey into your skin. The purpling skin is beautiful under his skillful tongue and you moan into the air of the living room.

May the best man win.

You’d both gone back and forth. After Bucky licked the mess from your chest and tasted the sugar on his tongue from a shared kiss, he had fun spraying whipped cream on his fingers. 

Watching you have to take each digit between plump lips to suckle and lick the cream off. Beyond the sweetness of the cream, you could taste the roughness of his skin while he played with your tongue. Bucky even took the liberty of pressing his fingers to the flat of your tongue and holding your mouth open until you were drooling when there was no more cream left. When his fingers slip too far, you gag around the intrusion and Bucky grins.

He spits in your mouth to compensate for your time. You moan, thankful.

When it’s your turn again, you take the chance to shimmy your pants off next. Bucky licked his lips - watching you get undressed and not having to do a bit of the work but also being tempted with the inability to touch. Eager hands wanting nothing more to grip supple flesh and lay his claim while he takes you. With him. All good things come to those who wait.

You smeared whipped cream on your inner right thigh - dangerously close to your center and trailing towards your v-line. Bucky took his time settling between your legs. Kissed stamped to the inside of your calves, calloused hands smoothing out the outer of your thighs. Trailing upward, Bucky’s breath ever hot and the whipped cream threatens to drip. 

Bucky catches the drop with his tongue before it can find the couch, licking up the inside of your thigh. His tongue makes you tingle and your brain stops working for a moment; shuddering under his touch and your toes curl. Bucky presses a kiss over the wet patch in your tight briefs and you hide your face. Your core quivers with want. 

Bucky refuses to let you hide for long, working his way back up and gently prying your hands from your face. You share a heated kiss and sigh shakily against Bucky’s figure; Melting between him and the couch.

When it’s Bucky’s turn again, he takes a page out of your book and uses the opportunity to shed away layers. The jeans hugging his deliciously thick thighs are discarded, Bucky hiking up the plain black tee that left little to the imagination of the definition of his abdomen. It’s no mystery that Bucky was packed with muscle; Even in thick coats, you could still somehow always make out his distinct shape with rippling arms, a thick chest, and somehow a narrower waist. You’ve joked about him being a Disney princess once or twice. 

The scoundrel smears the chilled spoon over his chiseled abs and for half a moment you’re in one of those steamy romance novels your mom would read and you’d giggle at.

You lap up the trail from over the concrete muscle down to Bucky’s groin - and he sighs out shaky and delighted. Hooded and heated eyes always watching you, you, you. Nothing else exists in the world to him other than your game. You feel a swell of pride knowing you have such a catch as Bucky; his thick fingers tangled in your hair and carding through as you innocently lick up the cream with a sinful tongue. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous, sunshine.” the words are drawled out lazily and hushed from Bucky’s swollen lips; He’s been chewing them and biting like crazy.

The tent in his briefs doesn’t surprise you at all - you’d be insulted if he wasn’t aroused.

Still, you’ve taken every task he’s given you like a champ. Bucky is running out of safe skin to present, and you’re in for the long haul. Winning or losing makes no difference to you. By the end of the night, it’ll be Bucky’s hands that have touched you and brought you to your climax. No one else. You’ve already won.

But that doesn’t stop you from sitting back and shivering when the cold metal touches your bare nipples. Smearing a generous amount of cream to both bare and pebbling buds. Bucky is simply excited to get his mouth on you in a way that isn’t so safe anymore. His lips close around your nipple and leave you gasping - sucking and rolling the bud against his skilled and velvety tongue. 

You’re wet; fingers holding Bucky’s head, merely along for the ride as he circles the areola with the tip of his tongue before pinching the delicate skin between his teeth and making you cry out. So sensitive. He kisses your ache better before subjecting the other nipple to the same torment; Bucky’s hot and wet mouth is heaven and your body speaks louder than your wanton moans or words ever will. You want him so unapologetically, and Bucky knows it. Prides himself on it, even.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re out of whipped cream and both of your teeth have rotted from your skull from the sugar; Something has to give otherwise the both of you could be at this all night - would that be so awful, though?

Bucky could wait you out easily. Run you out of choices until all that's left to cover with cream are the places he wants to get his tongue on the most. That's too easy; the back and forth between you two is what helps sparks fly. 

Your fun is interrupted on Bucky's turn. He's trying to swipe whipped cream on his chest when he fumbles the spoon; the dollop slides right off the flimsy metal and falls to Bucky's bare shin, trailing down to his foot. 

Both of your noses scrunch. Bucky's look of disgust is quickly replaced though by a mischievous glint, the soldier raising his leg up to balance his heel on the couch cushion. 

"Better hop to it, honey." Bucky singsongs.

You playfully swat at his thick thigh, hand wanting to linger just to feel the muscle under your palm. How easy it would be to glide up and cup his cock. 

"I'm not licking your foot, Bucky." You stifle the words only because you can't contain the giggles. 

"Rules are rules - unless that means I win…?" Bucky perks up, and ah, no wonder why he got all delighted. He sees this as his golden ticket win. 

No way he's serious. Your relationship and dynamic is very experimentational, but feet aren't on the table - sorry, Bucky. Licking one of his boots is a different story, but that's for another day where you have more time and the sweet words are replaced with filthy titles and the soldier joins you in the bedroom rather than your loving and chaste boyfriend.

“I’m not licking your foot.” You reiterate, “Pick somewhere else, for real?” “Ah ah ah, Sunshine. When we started playing we agreed.” Bucky protests and you are tempted to steal that spoon away from Bucky and swat another spoonful of whip cream at him. Instead, you pout; trying to wiggle your way. “Oh c’mon.” Bucky knows you won’t do it, the pain in the ass that he is (and you adore).

“Then I win,” Bucky declares matter-of-factly, and really, has defeat ever been such a pleasure? You shrug your shoulders to acknowledge your defeat, flashing the man across from you a bashful smile. At least you don't have whipped cream sticky on your foot - you're the real winner in that case.

“That means you, sunshine, gotta get that sweet mouth of yours on my cock.”

“Yes, Bucky,” you agree with an airy giggle. “I know what going down on someone means.”

When you go down on Bucky, he’s kind enough to give you a pillow to kneel on between his thighs. It helps recompense for the iron-grip in your hair as he guides your head up and down the steady length of his cock.

You’ve long started to adapt to the girth by now. The first time you’d attempted to go down on Bucky, the thickness of his cock had overwhelmed you. You could only take so much before nearly sputtering - and vomiting during sex isn’t sexy. It left you to have to make up for what your mouth couldn’t reach with skilled hands pumping the base of his dick and playing with his balls. 

Now you can take Bucky without gagging, and it’s worth it to watch his eyes roll into the back of his head when you suck his cock. You’re his pretty cock-sleeve and Bucky has no problem letting you know it:

“Yeah, that’s it… Such a slutty fuckin’ mouth, droolin’ all over me, baby.” His fingers fist your hair at the root, every pull a delicious sting as he guides your head up and down his cock. The corners of your lips stretching around the intrusion, eyes watering and everytime you moan at the way he fucks your mouth, it sends a vibration through Bucky’s cock that just has him reeling for more. “Oh, oh God… I’ve got the prettiest fuckin’ cocksucker - a work of art."

The words are filthy yet flattering; your chest fluttering while your hands brace on Bucky’s thighs. You keep your jaw slack, making the slide as easy for him as possible as the tip of his cock abuses the back of your throat. There's a certain fulfilment that comes with being used so filthily; Solely existing for Bucky's pleasure in that moment as he shifts from guiding you to thrusting. 

Your nose buries in the neatly trimmed pubic hair, flush with his pubic bone every time he cants his hips up into your willing mouth. This is how all blowjobs tend to go. With you taking the lead before Bucky can't handle it anymore and pummels your poor mouth. 

It leaves a delicious ache. 

Drool slips down your chin, doe-eyes fixed on Bucky despite the bleary picture he makes with tears dripping down your cheeks. Your sounds are muffled yet still whorish; your skin prickled with heat and the knot in your stomach slowly building. You grind your hips into the air looking for something to hump. You whine when you find nothing; more drool pooling past your red mouth as Bucky tilts his head back into the cushions with a low moan. 

"That's it, take it, take all of my cock, baby. Like you were fuckin' made for it, mm, my precious little fuckhole. God, I love you, love my messy whore."

Your head is swimming, all you can focus on is the feel of the cock thrusting in and out of your slack mouth while Bucky uses your hole to his delight. Even when your head feels light from the lack of air, you float happily and trust Bucky. Bucky always takes care of you.

He tugs your head up by your hair, pulling you off his cock, and only then are you able to swallow lungfuls of air; gasping with spit-slick lips and a gossamer connects you to the tip of Bucky’s flushed cock. 

“Cock-drunk. Like I said.” Bucky playfully chides and you whimper pitifully in response. Bucky laughs condescendingly at how pathetic you are and your chest blossoms. His hand cups your face tenderly, vibranium fingers wrapped around his dick while he smears his cockhead against your cheek. You turn your head instinctively towards the cock, mouthing wet kisses up the length and Bucky barks out a laugh at how hungry you are.

“Fuck, when did you get so desperate? You’d think I never touch you.” He traces your lips with the flushed tip; your tongue darts out to lap up the pre-come. 

“As if I don’t have you bent over the nearest surface every other day; Pumping you full of my seed and leaving you fuckdumb.” Bucky slaps the length against your cheek wetly. You tongue down his shaft, as much as Bucky’s clutch in your hair will allow, and mouth at his balls hungrily. Bucky groans low and primal in his throat.

“Dirty, dirty…” His hand comes to hold your jaw, tongue sliding past your loose and parting lips. Playing with your tongue, Bucky shakes your head like a dog and you mewl. Fingers curling into the flaps of his jeans from where you’d pulled them open. “Shh, you’re alright, honey. M’just playin’ is all, yeah, you’re so cute like this. So airheaded n’ dumb.”

You suckle on Bucky’s thumb, your reply coming in a pleased purr to have your mouth full again. It’s not his dick, but you’re more than happy to bob your head. Bucky bites his lips and grins wickedly. 

“I love how stupid you get for me, baby. It’s absolutely adorable, knowin’ you’d let me do anythin’ I wanted to you,” Bucky coos all too lovingly for it to be merely lust and heat. 

He slips his thumb from your lips and you chase the digit with a whimper; Mourning the loss. Bucky just grips your hair again and pulls you back to his balls. 

“C’mon, sunshine, suck on my balls.” The weight in your mouth nearly has you salivating, sucking on Bucky’s balls and right where you’re meant to be; Worshipping this man.

His cock is heavy against your face as Bucky jerks off to the gorgeous and whorish sight you make for him. The bruent groans, stroking his cock as Bucky watches you intently mouth as his heavy sac; Saliva dripping all over his skin and making a mess. His cock jerks infront of you, pulsing and veins bulging. 

“That’s it, good pet… So fuckin’ good, yeah, you’re so perfect — Fuck, what am I gonna do with you..?” Bucky guides your mouth back to his cock. Up the length and taking the head between your lips before swallowing him down entirely. Back to the steady bob as you moan around the intrusion and Bucky groans roughly into the thick and heavy air.

“I wanna fuck your face, sunshine,” Bucky rasps out, and you stutter your ministrations for half a moment to peer up at him in the helpless daze that consumes you. “Yeah, you like that idea? Don’ gotta do nothin’, honey, just let me use that pretty fuckhole of yours.” The words purred out so sweetly, you profusely nod. Eager to be of use. Pulling off his cock, you utter the word: “O-Okay…” “Good fuckin’ pet…” Bucky’s fingers thread delicately through your hair until he’s tightening the grip. Sinking you down onto his length yet again and forcing you to take every inch he gives you. It doens’t stop there. Instead the soldier braces his feet on the carpet alongside where you’re sat between his open thighs. He pistons his hips up - hitting your gag reflex and causing you to sputter around his cock.

There is no mercy. Bucky fucks up into your face, setting a progressive pace to allow you to slowly adjust but not for long. It’s only a few moments later that he’s fucking up into you like his own personal hole. Piercing steely eyes burning through you as he watches you choke and sputter on his impressive girth. It’s a mess of spit and tears that stream down your cheeks from the brutality of the face-fucking. 

Heavy balls slap against your jaw and Bucky moans. You tingle between your legs, wet from being able to be a tool for Bucky. An object of pleasure; Something about it has always turned you on in being able to please your partner. There’s no better pleasure than Bucky using you like the fuckhole you’re made to be, and he lets you know that.

“God, baby, you were made for this. Should just keep you for this one day; Make you my pretty little fuckdoll and the only thing you gotta worry about is fuckin’ yourself stupid on my cock. You make such a pretty sight, fuck, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you…” The litany is breathless as Bucky continues to thrust his dick in and out of your welcoming mouth. 

You choke and sputter; Face hot and eyes burning with tears that drip off your chin in fat droplets. Cries die in your throat, high off the euphoria of the moment and burning on the adrenaline of being used as a fleshlight. Your lips ache; His pelvis smacks into you every time he ruts his hips up. Bucky slides down your throat easily. He’s right. You’re made for it.

You don’t know how long it goes on for. Instead you ogle in heaven, seeing and feeling nothing but Bucky. Even through the wet and slick squelches of your mouth being used, you couldn’t be happier. You roll your hips to find nothing - you suppose that’s the punishment of losing the game. Only one of you get off.

He fucks your face until you’re dizzy and can’t breathe. When you fear you might sputter for air is when Bucky unravels; Your throat flexing around his cock and fingers feeling every now and again in your throat for the tell-tale bulge. 

It’s when Bucky’s hips stutter and the dirty talk bleeds more into primal noises rather than words. Grunts through his teeth, low growls while he abuses your throat up until the moment Bucky’s hips jerk harshly. The movements stutter, and Bucky punches out a harsh gasp. Then you feel it. 

The hot pump of his come down your throat; Filling you up.

You threaten to choke and Bucky hushes you, rubbing sympathetically over your windpipe. “Shh shh, that’s it, swallow every last drop, baby. Take it all…” He rolls his hips impossibly deeper into your sore jaw. You feel drunk and you weren’t even the one that got to ride out their orgasm. With a few last grunts and rolls of his hips, Bucky withdraws from your sensitive mouth. Half-soft cock falling and you greedily swallow for air.

Bucky pets you through it all - whispering out your praise. How good you did for him. How much he loves you.

You take a moment to recover, head pillowed on Bucky’s inner thigh as he pets your hair lovingly. You drool onto the denim of his jeans, and if Bucky minds, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he watches you with loving eyes and a soft hum; As if this wasn’t the same man who just deduced you to his filthy fuckhole. If you didn't know any better, sometimes you'd think the man who fucks you and the man who bought you a book you'd been dying trying to find for Valentine's day were two separate people.

Bucky does it because he knows you love it. You could tap out any time with the special little word you both selected months ago when your sex life began to spicen up past vanilla rocking. But you don’t. No, you take it all and then some because it feels good and sometimes you’re convinced it’s what you were made to do. 

You take your time recouping. Bucky rubs through your hair lovingly and affectionately, soft hums to add noise to the space. You smile, delighted, as if you’re the one who’s won and come. Calloused fingers trace the shape of your smile and you nearly preen. Slotting open your droopy eyes, you find Bufcky still there. Still sweet.

“You did so good, honey. M’so proud of you.” He praises, knowing now that he has your attention. Your grin splits and give him a toothy smile. “My sweet sunshine,” Bucky’s voice is soft and inviting, a lopsided grin on his chiseled features. You feel like the only thing in the world for a moment.

Although you want to talk, words don’t come easily and instead, you drag Bucky down into a languid kiss. Bucky groans at the taste of himself on you, but other than that, he’s chaste and gentle. Knowing when to play rough and when not to. It’s heaven when his lips move against yours so tenderly. Your heart still flutters like a teenager in love.

The both of you remain that way for a few minutes. Slow kissing even if you imagine Bucky’s back burns from the lean and your neck is starting to ache from how you crane it. Still, there’s nowhere you’d rather be than with Bucky.

“How about we head on to our room, sunshine, and I’ll take care of the rest?” Bucky purrs against your throat when he trails kisses down. The brush of his beard tickles and the feeling of his warm breath on your skin makes you happy to be alive.

“Actually,” you say after a beat, swallowing hard and clearing your throat. You pull yourself together as much as you can before leaning back and away from Bucky. 

He eyes you with a mild look of concern as you prop back against the coffee table, reaching for the untouched can that Bucky had brought in with his game proposal. You pop the red cap off and it scatters to the floor below, lost. Then, pulling yourself up to sit on the edge of the coffee table, you shake the can. You lift your hips, shimmying out of the underwear you’d been left in - both of you are half naked at this point and you’ve seen one another countless times, you have nothing to hide.

The pair pools around your ankles and you use your foot to toss them, discarded like everything else that’s met the floor this evening - save for you. Bare legs spread, an open invitation and show. Bucky’s eyes light up, and you adore how he seems to treat everytime like the first time again, too.

“I was thinking about a round two,” you purr with newfound confidence and second wind; Spraying a strip of whipped cream down from your navel and disappearing between your legs. “What do you say, Barnes?” 

“Oh, you’re on.”

[urween]

Soft Hanky | Steve Kemp x ftm!reader | english version

notes : written with a reader with a chest operation in mind

summary: for the good of his business, Steve Kemp learns of the existence of a special category of people. So he finds a young transgender man and sets up his usual plan. Problem is, this man hides many surprises.

⚠︎ warnings : intentionally clumsy description of transgender identity, transgender idolatry, Steve Kemp is a red flag on his own (cannibalism, violence, manipulation, etc.), kinks (degradation, submission, prey/predator)

special thanks and credits to @sparrow-the-tired-lesbian who nicely helped me with this story's translation because it was originally written in french, my native language.

French version here

- Description in the second person

- 2 415 words

You had thought it was an accident, maybe even a sign of destiny. It must be said that your love life did not stretch over miles, not even a few meters. So coming face to face with such a handsome stranger, smiling and interested, it had been a kind of miracle in your eyes, and unfortunately for you, he knew it. Steve, that was his first name, quite classic, nothing original, and a touch of déjà vu. Yet he had caught you in a few seconds, barely had he started asking you questions that your cheeks had become as red as the seats in the movie theater where you had met.

Bad luck for you, destiny had nothing to do with this sudden romance. Steve had been following you for two days, mainly learning about your most frequented places and especially the people you went there with. There the trap was being dug, you had no one, and that was your major asset. No friends, no family, not even a goldfish that would miss you. You were a being living on Earth without human ties, which made you a ghost, the perfect victim.

“No, I don't have a family, it's quite complicated at that level,” you had naively confirmed to him during your first date. Then, “let's say acquaintances rather than friends” he had managed to make you confess. Finally the grand finale, “It's weird to say since I've only known you for a short time but I really like you, Steve.”

The smile that greeted you at this declaration had made your cheeks boil, and then the man in front of you tried an approach – thinking that it was the perfect moment – he placed his hand over yours on the restaurant table. 

Your reaction only encouraged him, and a few moments later you were kissing on a street corner. Everything was going wonderfully, everything was perfect, on time, and even pleasant. All that was left was to tell you– “Wait I... excuse me I think this is a little too much all at once for me”, you had cut him off as you were heading home. He hadn't let anything show, only smiled before reassuring you, “it's nothing we have all the time right?” He should have expected it, you had been different from the beginning, it couldn’t all be that simple.

Actually, you weren’t originally on his list. Vanessa, Penny, Kate. But not your name, not a man. Women were in demand, sought after, and better, not men.

Then one day, when he was deleting the Instagram account of a previous candidate, he came across a post: International Transgender Day of Visibility. The bright colors caught his attention and since he had nothing else to do, he wandered through the topic. Several photos of people involved, but nothing particularly interesting, they had nothing he couldn’t find elsewhere. When suddenly, a photo stopped him dead in his tracks. A pencil drawing of a beautiful androgynous being. Steve clicked on the creator’s profile picture and came across you. You had very few publications, but enough for him to choose you. Your face, your figure, your thighs, hips. There was something special about you, different from women, different from men, different from cisgender people. In your biography, the transgender tricolor flag proudly stood, accompanied by three letters "ftm". It didn't take Steve long to put together all the pieces of the puzzle, you were exceptional. The perfect blend of the harmonious beauty of a woman with the sublime calm strength of a man. Your body was splendid, your features divine. Your taste could only be unequaled.

So, in a few hours, you were first on his list. Your angelic face was going to drive buyers crazy, and you were already driving Steve crazy. The night he discovered you, he didn't sleep a wink, looking for all the information he could about you and what you represented. He wasn't used to feeling so involved, but you were different, that was probably why.

That's how a week later, you met the captivating Steve Kemp when you left your weekly movie session. You were surprised to come across a man so attractive, interested, and above all educated on the subjects that were important to you. He knew the queer terms, laughed while saying that he had visited your dream place, or was curbing ignorance by discovering your name.

But besides this physical specificity, he had – with surprise – discovered that you were not as fast as the others. You never invited him to your place, dodging the innuendos of an upcoming date there. You were open to his advances and yet something always seemed to make you back down at the fateful moment. He had first thought that you were worried about your “special” type, that you were afraid to talk to him about it. But you didn’t give the impression that the subject was sensitive, on the contrary, you spoke about it lightly. So the problem came from elsewhere. Steve had had to dig, but the source had finally become visible. Everything came from a more intimate area. The way you bit your lip when he complimented you, crossed your legs at certain insistent glances, moaned weakly in your kisses. He had thought it was basic behavior, you liked him, it was obvious. Then, he had noticed your slight downward tilt of the head, your fleeting eyes, your weakening muscles. Your body was submitting to him, consciously or not, you were reacting in a primal way to him. This conclusion had jumped out at him during your last kiss. He had gently pinned you against one of the exterior walls of the Asian restaurant, his hand at the junction of your neck and shoulder, your body had seemed to soften in his embrace. You let yourself be controlled by him, protected, supported. He had then accentuated your oral exchange, and everything had been confirmed. Your body needed to be submissive, and vulnerable in powerful and protective arms.

After realizing this, Steve knew how to find the problem: you were not comfortable with this fantasy. It made sense, you had only known the man who made you feel this way for a few days, it was obvious that you did not want to leave your body to a near stranger.

But every problem had a solution, and he had found it.

Wet from your recent shower, your hand grabbed your cell phone placed on the edge of your sink. Steve has just sent you several messages.

- Good morning cherub - A coffee to start the day?

You replied enthusiastically, telling him that you gladly accepted his invitation and in a few seconds you received a response.

- I can pick you up in about twenty minutes - And if that's okay with you, could I show you the famous painting I've at home?🦣

Your smile accompanied you as you put on clean clothes. His proposal tempted you greatly but there was a catch. Spending time with Steve always pleased you, however going to his place necessarily meant skipping a step. He wasn't the type to rush you, but you wanted to and from your exchanges, he seemed to want to too. With a hint of doubt, you grabbed your phone again to answer him:

- Ok for your place, but only to see the painting ;)

Only two streets from your building, Steve sketched a vague smile as he typed a quick reply. He suspected that you were going to react like that, but you had nevertheless fallen into the trap and that was the most important thing. The plan was not to sleep with you anyway, only to take you back to a safe place, to his place. He never slept with his targets, because he didn't particularly want to and especially. After all, they came to his place without any worries, without needing to go that far.

The car ride had been longer than you would have imagined. Between the small paths and narrow roads, it took you about an hour and a half in total to finally arrive at what must have been Steve's place. A little – a lot, but admitting it would be strange – lost in the middle of a thick forest of all kinds of fir trees, stood a long and large building. You got out of the car first, wanting to have time to examine the house before going in.

To be honest, a lot of branches and vegetation camouflaged the interior, you could only make out modern and rectangular lines that ended up disappearing behind tree trunks. But despite that, you found the house quite pretty from the outside.

Steve arrived by surprise behind you, making you jump and let out a little unmanly cry. His laughter mixed with yours made a few birds flutter next to you, immediately you worried about the possible noise that your cry could have made. But Steve reassured you immediately, placing a hand on your shoulder he smiled at you saying: “No need to worry, no neighbors around, no one to complain about the noise”. You were relieved at once, answering something like “Oh great” without knowing that this detail was not favorable to you.

Guided by the warm hand of the owner, you let yourself be carried to the front door – even if there must have been several given the size of the house –. Normally, you would have been somewhat suspicious of this size. Such a large home meant a large income, Steve had told you that he worked as a plastic surgeon and that could explain this detail. However, your attention was not drawn to his income, nor even to the possible danger of a house so far from civilization. To tell the truth, once you had crossed the door, you were hypnotized by the decoration. Everything was extremely dark, in shades of brown and black. There was only a minimum of light, and even the windows did not give enough light to be able to see the four ends of the kitchen open to the living room. The walls were very high, dark too, only interspersed with a few touches of beige. From the inside, you forgot about the rent of the accommodation, you let yourself be devoured by the very special atmosphere. If you took each little detail apart, the decoration was nothing extraordinary, but put together it was as if you were entering a kind of immersive painting. Surely because of the uneven light outside or the floating smell of incense, but you had the feeling of being cut off from the outside world. It was strangely pleasant.

“I'm not offering you water,” Steve intervened, nodding at your still-hot coffee in your hands. You smiled shyly, shaking your head from left to right. Even though he was driving, Steve had finished his drink in less than twenty minutes. One hand on the steering wheel, another still on his paper cup – as if he was afraid of losing it – he chained small or large sips of caffeine as if it were an elixir of youth. You hadn't asked yourself any questions at the time, assuming that he hadn't slept well or that something was getting into his head. Once your little observation was complete, you offered some of your coffee to your interlocutor – which he accepted – then you headed towards the famous painting that had brought you here. It was nothing special, just a large horizontal canvas full of raised paint strokes. You weren't even an art expert, but when Steve had told you about this work you had been curious, and throughout your conversations you had wanted to see it in person. “It's like seeing lots of people live,” he had confessed to you “as if I had the superpower to transform bodies into colorful souls”. His description had intrigued you, you had wanted to put an image on this power, and since Steve didn't have a photo of it what could be better than seeing it in real life?

“I would have rather said that they die,” you began, tilting your head, “look at their positions, it looks like they're being sucked in or crying, your accusing finger accompanied your analysis by drawing abstract shapes in the air, and then the colors are disappearing, the bright orange becomes crimson”.

Too absorbed in your investigation, you didn't pay attention to Steve standing behind you. Your two silhouettes were in perfect alignment, bland and undefined because of the darkness, seen from the front you seemed to disappear into the icy build of the man towering over you by several centimeters. His eyes ran slowly over your exposed and naked neck, you're drawn back. They imagined the tempting curves that were hidden under two or three layers of fabric – so easily torn, even with the tips of his teeth –. Your shoulders were relaxed, and you were confident. You were just looking at a painting, without suspecting the threat that lay behind you or the evidence hidden behind the paint. You were just looking at the work that a man you liked had at home. Without thinking for a moment that behind you this same man would be desperately a handkerchief soaked in GHB. Without thinking that his arm was stuck in this position when it should be wrapped around your neck. Without imagining the flood of thoughts that were rushing through this man’s mind at the same time. You were just admiring a painting that he had told you about, that was close to his heart, that he had never spoken about to anyone except you. While he was petrified by doubt. “I think I wouldn't like to have this superpower, to see people's souls,” your voice declared, “I wouldn't like to know who's good or bad, it's too volatile,” you continued, taking a step back, “and then bad people are just misunderstood, and I like trying to understand them.” Your heel hit the tip of a polished shoe, you thought you were going to fall backward. Your back was stopped by a boiling bust, and a smile returned to your lips. A hanky fell to the ground and as you bent down to catch it, Steve’s firm hand stopped your movement.

“Leave it here,” a voice you had never heard so lightly sighed, “it won’t be of any use anymore.”

Really want to do a part two, who knows maybe one day?

pictures : Pinterest

banners : @/saradika-graphics and @/thecutestgrotto

[howdoyousleep3]

Welcome to my Kinktober 2022 Masterlist! Each day will be shared in a post, linked here, and then this post itself will be shared. The hashtag for all things Kinktober is "howdoyousleep kinktober 2022". Please read all included tags and author's notes to make the best responsible reader decision. As per usual, all stories are to be read by readers 18+ only. Stay spooky and enjoy, besties! 🖤

🐍 day 1 // Daddy Kink // Daddy Steve x Baby Bucky // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🎃 day 2 // Authority Kink // Senator Rogers x Intern Bucky ft. Maddie's Jockverse // read here on Tumblr Part 1 Part 2 // read here on Ao3 // see teaser here

👻 day 3 // Uniform Kink // Pre-War Stucky // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

😈 day 4 // Angry Sex // Mafia Daddy Steve x Female Reader // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🐈‍⬛ day 5 // Quickie // 3-Day Weekend Daddy (3DWD) x Bunny Baby // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

😱 day 6 // Getting Caught // Senator Rogers x Intern Barnes // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

⚰️ day 7 // Drunk // Steve Kemp x Female Reader // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

💀 day 8 // Age Difference // Sub Baby Bucky Barnes x Daddy Dom Steve Rogers // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🦇 day 9 // Dirty Talk // Steve Rogers x Female Reader // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

👽 day 10 // Mouth // Bucky Barnes x Female Reader // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🔮 day 11 // Housewife Roleplay // Senator Rogers x Intern Barnes // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

💚 day 12 // Omegaverse // Omega Steve Rogers x Alpha Bucky Barnes // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🧛 day 13 // Coming Untouched // Shrunkyclunks (Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes) // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🧟 day 14 // Skirt // Trans Bucky Barnes x Biker Daddy Steve Rogers // read here on Tumblr // read here on A03

🪲 day 15 // Mommy Kink // Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

👸 day 16 // Orgasm Denial // Senator Natasha Romanoff x Female Intern Reader // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🕸 day 17 // Alley // Punk Steve Rogers x Rocker Bucky Barnes // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🧞‍♀️ day 18 // Morning Sex // Best Friend's Dad Andy Barber x Male Reader // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🍬 day 19 // Wet Dream // 3-Day Weekend Daddy (3DWD) x Bunny Baby // read here on Tumblr // read here on A03

🛸 day 20 // Role Reversal // Daddy James x Stevie Baby // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

💜 day 21 // Comemarking // Omega Gender Neutral Reader x Alpha Steve Rogers // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🌕 day 22 // Hands // Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend's Dad Steve Rogers // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🗡 day 23 // Breeding Kink // Ari Levinson x Female Reader // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🩸 day 24 // Erotic Letters // Camboy Bucky Barnes x Pornstar Steve Rogers // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

⚱️ day 25 // Missionary // "Smol" Steve Rogers x "Bear" Bucky Barnes // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🧚‍ day 26 // Overstimulation // Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan) // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🦄 day 27 // Innocence // Succubus Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🦉 day 28 // Threesome // Daddy Steve x Baby Bucky x Male Reader // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

👹 day 29 // Car Sex // Stepdad Andy Barber x Female Reader // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

🥸 day 30 // Sex with a Stranger // Shrunkyclunks (Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes) // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

☠️ day 31 // Aftercare // Daddy Steve x Baby Bucky // read here on Tumblr // read here on Ao3

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Upcoming Projects

(There won't be specific days on when they will be posted. But Kinktober will be exempt.)

«⁕*⁕*⁕*⁕*⁕*⁕*⁕*⁕*⁕*⁕*⁕*⁕»

Sweet Pea x Male reader

Sebastian Stan x Male reader

Archie Andrews x Bullied Male reader

Reggie Mantle x Male reader

Yandere Superman x Male reader

Chris Evans x Trans male reader

Yandere Castiel x MR

Eddie/Venom x MR

Scott Lang x MR

Bruce Banner x MR

Geralt of Rivia x male reader

Ian x Mickey x Male reader

Jasper Hale x Vampire Male reader

Thor x Male reader

Karl Heisenberg x Male reader

Yandere Stefan Salvatore x Male reader

Jeremy Gilbert x Male reader

Scott Mccall x Male reader

Yandere Alpha Andy Barber x Omega Male reader

Alpha Peter Hale x Omega Male reader

Alpha Thor x Omega MR

Pietro maximoff x male reader?

Bucky Barnes x male reader

Hawks x male reader

Aoi Todo x dom male reader

Sub! Top Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers x Dom! Bottom Male reader

Loki x Dom! Bottom Male reader

Steve Rogers (before the serum) x male reader

Bakugo x Dom! bottom Male reader

Yandere Tom Holland x Male reader

Bruce Wayne x Son reader

Tony Stark x Husband reader

Eddie/Venom x male reader

Chris Redfield x male reader

Rick Grimes X Male Reader

Hulk x male reader

Carlisle Cullen x male reader

Sub! Top Henry Cavill x Power bottom male reader

Tom Hiddleston x male reader

Thor x male reader

Alfred x male reader

Chris Evans x male reader

Dom Bottom male reader x Sub top Chris Evans

Levi x M/R

Pyramid Head x male reader

Mark x male reader

Loki x male reader

Misha Collins x male reader (x Jensen Ackles?)

dominant and possessive tom holland x male reader

Peter x male reader

Dick Grayson x male reader

stepdad andy barber x male stepson reader

Chris Evans x Thicc male reader

Chris Evans x male reader

RDJ x Male reader

Kol Mikaleson x Male! reader

Mikaelson Brothers x Male Reader smut

Tim Drake x Male Reader

Steve and Bucky x male reader

Chris evans x Middle Eastern male reader

yandere Bucky Barnes x male reader

Scott Eastwood x male reader.

Chris Evan's x single! dad reader

Best Friend's dad! Dean Winchester x male reader

Alpha Ryan Reynolds x Omega husband reader

Isaac Lahey x male reader

Zac Efron x male reader

alpha Chris Evans x pregnant omega Male Reader

Stepdad Chris Evans x Stepson male reader

Steve Rogers x Muted Male Reader?

Alpha Robert Downey jr x Omega Male reader

Alpha Tom Hiddleston x omega male reader.

Alpha Ryan Reynolds x omega Husband reader

alpha Sebastian stan x omega male reader

ANDREW! SPIDERMAN X M! PREG MALE READER

Alpha Bucky Barnes x omega male reader

alpha Andrew Garfield x omega male reader

God! Andrew Garfield x chubby male reader

Jefferson x male reader

Lance Tucker x Male Reader

Peter B Parker x male reader

Stepdad!Henry Cavill x stepson reader

alpha Ben Barnes x omega male reader

Oscar x Trans male reader

Ari Levinson x assistant male reader

Alpha bucky x omega male reader

Dom Top Chris Evans x sub-bottom male reader

Chris Evans x middle eastern reader

Jock! Jack Andrich, Jock! Tom Holland, Jock! Shawn Mendes, Jock! Andrew Garfield and Jock! KJ Apa x Chubby male reader

King!Jack Andrich x male chubby reader

King! Ari x Prince Male reader

Chris Hemsworth x femboy male reader

Jock! Jack Andrich x manager! male reader

God! Jack x chubby male reader

JJ Maybank x Male Reader

Matt Murdock x male reader

Rafe Cameron x male reader

Matt Murdock x Steve Rogers x Male Reader

top! harry x bottom! male reader

John Krasinski x male reader

Beefy!bucky Barnes x male reader

Eternals!Reader x Ikaris

Stepbrother Dean Winchester x Stepbrother male reader

stepdad!ari levinson x reader

Derek morgan x ftm reader

Jonas Brothers x Young singer Male reader

[ao3feed-lokiangst]

𝓐𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝔁 𝓕𝓽𝓶!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 | 2022 |

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/E3ye6w1

by Bucky_Barnes_Lover

Hello, thank you for clicking onto my book! As you read by the title this is an Avengers x ftm!Reader [one shot] book, I have recently gotten caught up with the fandom and decided I would try my luck at writing a book. - I will only be writing female to male readers since there aren't many out there. - | ᴜᴘʟᴏᴀᴅꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ꜱʟᴏᴡ | - | ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ | -open- ✔️ -closed- - | ᴛɪᴍᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴍᴘꜱ | -started- 21/04/22 -finished- n/a - | ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴏᴡɴ ᴍᴀʀᴠᴇʟ ᴏʀ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴘʟᴏᴛ, ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ | -

Words: 3444, Chapters: 5/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Moon Knight (TV 2022)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other

Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Sam Wilson, Thor Odinson, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, T'Challa (Marvel), Steve Grant, Marc Spector, Peter Parker, Vision (Marvel), Kate Bishop, Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Loki Laufeyson, Pepper Potts, Reader

Relationships: Chris Evans/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader, Sebastian Stan/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Chris Hemsworth/Reader, Thor/Reader, Robert Downey Jr./Reader, Tony Stark/Reader, mark ruffalo/reader, Bruce Banner/Reader, Jeremy Renner/Reader, Clint Barton/Reader, Aaron Taylor-Johnson/Reader, Pietro Maximoff/Reader, Elizabeth Olsen/Reader, Wanda Maximoff/Reader, Chadwick Boseman/Reader, T'Challa/Reader, Oscar Isaac/Reader, Steve Grant/Reader, Marc Spector/Reader, Tom Holland/Reader, Peter Parker/Reader, Paul Bettany/reader, Vision/Reader, Benedict Cumberbatch/Reader, Stephen Strange/Reader, Hailee Steinfield/Reader, Kate Bishop/Reader, Scarlett Johansson/Reader, natasha Romanoff/reader, Paul Rudd/Reader, Scott Lang/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/Reader, Loki Laufeyson/Reader, Gwyneth Paltrow/Reader, Pepper Potts/Reader, Sam Wilson/Reader, Anthony Mackie/Reader

Additional Tags: Angst, Avengers - Freeform, Bisexual, Fluff, Ftm!Reader - Freeform, Gay, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ, One Shot Collection, Trans Male Character, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Tags will be added eventually

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/E3ye6w1

[chuckbass-love]

hi love! can I request a Bucky Barnes x trans!female reader fic? Reader has had a lot of bad experience with guys in terms of dating and so when Bucky decides to boldly and honestly flirt with her at a stark party, reader is surprised and shocked that someone *actually* likes her. Bucky finds this appalling and takes her out on a fun date. thank you!!

Hi love, thank you so much for the request! I’ve got the other two from you and the ideas in my head right now.. i feel like i’m about to explode! 

I was going to upload this tomorrow but tbh, i’m too excited about it so imma give it to you now, the other two will be uploaded between now and Thursday.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Trans!Female Reader 

Warnings: Fluff overload 

Word Count: 1,504

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @sunoficarus go check them out 💙

I Like You

You don’t know why you even bothered coming here in the first place, but yet here you are. 

One of many parties thrown by Tony Stark who by the way dragged you here. 

You make sure to greet everyone that you know, sending soft and welcome smiles to those you don’t before you make your way over to the bar and sit down. 

You order a porn star martini and tap your heel on the side of the stool, glancing around the room to see what everyone is up to.

That’s when a soothing voice breaks you from your daze, causing you to jolt slightly.

“Sorry i didn’t mean to scare you” you turn your head to find him sitting next to you... Bucky Barnes.

You know of him, seen him around at other events but you’ve never spoken to him. He’s a friend of Steve’s but you and Steve aren’t all that close so he never introduced you to him.

“It’s fine, my own fault for daydreaming i guess” you giggle nervously. 

He’s hot, of course he is but he’d never like you back. A girl can fantasise though, right?

You’ve never really had a proper relationship, or at least one that counted. Sure you’ve dated but it never ended well. The guys were all jerks and you began to give up hope of a guy actually ever treating you right.

The last one lasted a good 4 months, he was nice enough for a while and then bam, he cheated. 

Tony has tried to set you up a couple times, so have Natasha and Wanda but it’s not your style, being set up that is.

You’re picky and prefer to scout the guys out yourself rather than have someone do it for you and besides, you’re enjoying the single life right now. Being alone and having time to yourself to focus on work and building your confidence up. 

“So, i’ve seen you around a lot, you know at these parties” he speaks up, you sip at your drink.

“Yeah, i’ve seen you too. You’re Steve’s friend right?” he nods, you do too. 

“I gotta say though, i’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while tonight. I just, every time i tried to, i got too nervous” he chuckles, your eyes widen. 

You make him nervous?

Why?

“I’m sure i don’t” you look around the room, avoiding his eyes. 

He doesn’t like you, you’re just taking it the wrong way. The man is probably nervous around new people. You’re not his type, surely.

“You do, i’m sure you get that everywhere you go right?” 

Okay, what is his deal?

“I actually don’t” he looks shocked, his jaw practically falls to the floor, his eyes grow wide and he shakes his head.

“What?”

“Are you single?”

What even is this?

“I am indeed, yourself?” he nods in response. 

How can a guy like him be single?

“I’m sorry i just, i never expected you to be sing-” you cut him off.

“What is this huh? Some sort of prank? You chatting to me to win a bet?” you snap, your words coming off meaner than intended. 

“N-no, it’s not a bet. I like you or at least like how you look. I just, i’ve heard so many great things from everyone and you’re beautiful. I just wanted to ask you out but didn’t wanna jump straight in before probing a bit that’s all. I’ll leave to it, sorry for the trouble”

He gets off stool, your heart sinks, you stop him.

“Wait” 

He turns around

“I’m sorry”

“It’s not every day that i have guys flirt with me so i just, i got a bit defensive. I guess i just assume that no one would want to even talk to me let alone find me attractive” you look down at your hands but not for long.

He lifts your head up with his finger under your chin.

“Well then they are fools and i better snap you up whilst the queue is short” you can’t help but giggle again. He’s funny not to mention very hot.

“So is that a yes then?” he raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for your answer.

“It’s a yes” you sip your drink, getting off the stool.

You lean closer, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Great, i guess i should get your number then right?” you take the phone from his shaky hands, typing the number into it before walking away.

“Text me your address gorgeous and i’ll pick you up at 8:00″ you smile as you walk away from him and into the sea of people.

-----------------

Okay Y/N pull yourself together, this is not the time to get the nerves. 

He’ll be here any minute. It’s 7:58pm and he said he’d be here at 8:00.

You have 2 minutes to pull yourself together.

*3 KNOCKS* 

That’s him, omg. He’s early.

You let out a deep breath, trying to relax your tensed shoulders. 

He mentioned that he wanted you to dress casual so you have on some high waisted black jeans with a yellow top, thin straps and low back. You check yourself out in the mirror before grabbing your bag and coat and heading to the door.

You open it to reveal him stood there, jeans and a white shirt. He looks so good. You feel your legs turn to jelly at the sight.

“WOW” he ogles you, not even trying to hide it.

“What?” you smirk

“You just look really good. I don’t feel good enough to be going on a date with you” you wave him off and step outside.

“Oh shush, you look good too by the way. Anyways where are we going?” he shrugs. 

“That my dear is a surprise” he tuts at you.

His hand brushes past yours as you walk, still unsure of where he’s taking you.

“So, tell me about yourself. How long have you been single?” you sigh at his question.

“A year now. I’ve not had the best experience with guys. They all ended up using me for sex or cheating i guess”

“God, i’m sorry to hear that. Steve mentioned about you being you know”

You laugh again.

“Trans? Yeah you can say the word you know it’s not a swear word. But yeah, i find a lot of men lately just want to mess around or have a girl but not be too serious about her and i grew tired of it so i decided to stay away. So when you approached me at the party, i didn’t think in a million years someone would actually like me and want to talk let alone be nervous to talk to me”

He takes a hold of your hand, holding it as you talk.

“So how come you’re single?” 

“Well let’s just say women do like me but not the ones i want” you feel your cheeks heat up.

“So what is your type?”

“I like women with something to them. Women who are independent, sassy and of course women who are sexy”

He lets go of your hand, coming to a halt.

“Of course i don’t just want anyone though. I want you. I know that’s cliche but yeah. So i plucked up the courage to ask you out and here we are” he gestures to the sight in front of you.

“A fairground. OMG” you squeal, taking his hand in yours and running through the entrance.

He gets you some tokens for the rides and attractions. 

First up, bumper cars.

----------------------

“Alright alright, you won. Happy now?” you roll your eyes.

“Ecstatic” 

You can’t help but smile from ear to ear as you grip onto your giant panda stuffed toy that Bucky won you at one of the games.

“This panda is quite literally the fluffiest and the largest thing ever. He’s going to be taking up a whole lotta room in my house” 

You walk side by side, back to your place.

“What you gonna name him?” 

“James” 

He told you his first name, so it only seemed right to name the panda after him. After all, he did win it for you.

“Very cute” 

“Just like you then huh”

You come to a stop as you reach your house.

“So this me” you nod.

“I had the best time tonight” you second that.

You look into his eyes, getting lost in them. It doesn’t take much.

You see him leaning closer, you follow. Your heads both tilt, coming closer until your lips touch.

The kiss is magical, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

“I’d love to see you again”

“I can’t say i blame you. When?” 

He looks shocked, as though he can’t believe you want to see him again too.

“How’s Friday?” your smile is getting bigger.

“Perfect”

“I’ll see you then” 

And with that, he presses another kiss to your lips, a little more open mouthed this time.

“Goodnight Y/N”

“Goodnight Bucky” you walk away, swaying your hips.

------------------

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