#the falcon and the winter soldier drabble

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drabble Roulette: F*ck Machine - Bucky Barnes

Hey hey! This weekend (July 6 -7) I’m going to be playing drabble roulette! I’ve curated a list of characters, tropes, AUs, and kinks and I’m spinning the wheel! Hopefully I can do this once a month as a little writing exercise.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warnings: this drabble includes BDSM elements, sex toys, sexual acts. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+.

“You have to trust me, baby,” Bucky’s calloused fingertips brush down your spine. 

You whimper again. Every inch of you is overwrought, speckled in goosebumps, your veins hot but your skin chilled. The mingling of sensations and lack thereof has you close to mindless.  

His touch lingers along the curve of your ass. The imprint of his hand stings there still, thrumming as he tickles the tortured flesh. He snickers as you twitch. 

“Oh, baby doll,” he purrs and gropes you meanly with one hand as your lashes flutter against the dark fabric. The blindfold makes everything so much more intense; his voice, his touch, his very presence. “Don’t you trust me?” He pinches your ass and you squeak, thighs clenching as the stickiness cools in the creases. “You can speak.” 

“Yes, Sergeant,” you babble. 

“Good girl. Now keep the pretty mouth shut,” he slides two fingers between your cheeks and swipes down to your cunt. You spasm as he delves inside without hesitation, burying himself once more to his knuckles. The noise your flesh makes around him sets you alight. “Mmm, listen to you. You just can’t get enough.” 

He slides out and smacks your ass again. You yelp and your legs give out, your arms bending as you barely keep from hitting your stomach. He hisses and grabs your hips, lifting you to your knees. You push your arms straight again. 

“Up. Bad!” He spanks you again, the sound reverberating in your skull. 

“Sorry, Ser--” 

“I said mouth shut,” he snarls. “You want more? Fine. You’ll get more.” 

He moves and you quiver again. His footsteps are all that’s clear. The heavy treads landing decisively. Then a squeak and an odd rolling. Friction on the floor. You want to look so badly but you have to obey. Keep your hands flat and your knees locked. 

“I should do it myself,” he drones mournfully, “but you didn’t earn that.” 

There’s a coolness that trickles between your cheeks. You shudder and his fingers follow the flow. He smears the lube around your ring. 

“You should thank me for that at least.” 

“Thank you, Sergeant.” 

“Now say please,” he draws his hand away. 

“Please, Sergeant,” you babble. You don’t even know what you’re asking for. 

“Hmm, baby doll,” he tuts and you feel something along your ass. The hard silicon pokes at your puckered hole and you gasp. He growls. You seal your lips, biting down as you brace yourself. He rubs the top of your ass, “better ease up.” 

Click. A switch flips and you’re stretched by the artificial tip. Deeper, deeper, deeper. Slow but certain. You shake as it dips to your limit and your stomach knots. As it pulls back you quake out a breath. It starts again, in, out. Torturously. 

Bucky hums and his fingers crawl down your thighs. There’s another click. The dildo moves quicker. Not much, but enough to notice. He feels along your cunt as your insides clench. In, out, in, out. 

Click. The hum of the motor continues as he pushes the machine up another level. As he does, he pushes into you with his other hand. Two fingers, then three. He works in tandem with the toy. 

“Good girl,” he coaxes as he lines up the next finger and the machine clicks again. You pant in time with the dildo’s intrusion, shaking as you push your head back and arch your spine. “You like being full, don’t you, baby doll?” 

[the-voice-beckons-below]

the end of the (red) line

bucky barnes x steve rogers x gn! reader

synopsis: red string au, in which a thread, invisible to others, tangles you and your soulmate together. you’ve been waiting a long time to meet the person at the other end, the problem is, they keep damaging the thread, leaving you unable to track them down.

warnings: angst (it’s a fic involving bucky, it’s to be expected), fluff, reader is down bad, mentions of death, self loathing, reader is technically an orphan (blame new york not me), big muscly super soldiers !! reader is confident!

word count : 2,928

this whole red string business had cost you many nights of sleep. all your friends had been lucky, bumping into their supposed soulmate in a store or cafe, or getting a new job and seeing a prominent string dangling from their coworker’s fingers.

see, it isn’t visible at all times, which is arguably less and equally more frustrating. there’s only certain times you can follow it, or tug on it if you’re impatient. there’s a possibility you walk past your fately betrothed and you’ll miss them, because the universe decides you’re not ready.

it’s been five years since it first showed up, looped around your fingers snuggly. it happened after a nightmare, which were all too common. witnessing the attack on new york first hand had been devastating, bodies upon bodies. screams and cries and families torn apart, including your own.

it was just you now, scattered in the vast expanse of the world like a drop in the ocean. friends were distractions, only so much could tackle the constant ebbing and aching deep within your chest. tucked away so far that it was normal, like it had always been there.

it was at a bar when the familiar red showed up, and in frustration, you yanked hard. standing up from the booth with your friends and determinedly walking to try once more. the bond was fickle, or maybe, it was just yours specifically. seemingly disappearing each time some ground was made, like someone had purposely cut it.

you learnt to be fast, coiling the thread and pacing swiftly. weaving through crowded streets on a winter’s eve, eyes narrowed and scrutinising. your lips dried at the cold air, and a small voice reminded you that the jacket you’d been wearing was still slumped in the bar’s booth. was it worth it? getting cold and also getting a dead end?

the trail never seemed to end, with each tug and pull, there was no resistance. leaving a yarn-like pile puddled at your feet. it could’ve been the frustration or exasperation that triggered the next moment, gripping onto the thin crimson and jerking it with every ounce of might you had.

it wasn’t noticeable at first, but steadily a burning littered your palms. for the very first time, you’d gotten rope burn from wrenching the thread.

there was also a man who was distinctively dishevelled, like he’d been displaced.

he was littered in crimson.

not only was it looped around him, it also continued from him. which was just too much to comprehend at the given moment, was it possible to be attached to multiple people?

the man whipped his head up, almost like he’d been shocked, and belatedly met eyes with you. locking with a shudder, his gaze was almost frantic.

at the same time, you both spoke, your voice edging on angry and confused. while the stranger’s seemed unbelievably stunned.

“you!”

in all years of imagining your future partner, you’d never expected them to be so…unfairly attractive. adorned with dull blonde locks, a sharp jaw and icy blue eyes that held a depth you hadn’t prepared for. he was tall, and built, gods he could crush you.

it almost cooled the anger in your veins.

“why did you keep cutting me off?” you snapped, fists clenching from anxiety this time. had they seen you before and decided you weren’t enough? could you be enough? why wait all this time? why sever the connection over and over?

“what?” he breathed, the air in his lungs fled. the blonde’s train of thought was completely dismantled, a flicker of hurt and confusion flooded his face. “that - that wasn’t you?”

steve still remembers when it appeared. just after his major transformation from frail to superhuman. the sight caused him to stutter, whole body feeling just as weak as he was before. immediately he’d gone to find peggy, hoping it was her, she was breathtaking. first woman to see him as someone, and who looked at him with a hint of softness that he melted for each time.

and he still remembers the way his heart had plummeted upon finding out his newly acquired string was not attached to peggy. it shattered a part of him, he’d never felt like this with anyone before, and yet peggy wasn’t the one. her bold lipstick would not litter his cheeks or lips, her soft yet strong hands would not rest in his own.

it was confusing.

but what was truly heartbreaking was finding out who it was attached to.

after rescuing bucky from hydra and finally having his best friend back, steve thought maybe it would be okay not to know the person on the other side of the string. him and buck would be alright if they had each other, his fondest and happiest of memories included barnes.

on that train, time stopped. bucky dangling from a scrap of metal, steel eyes terrified and begging for steve to haul him back up.

he couldn’t reach him. he tried, god he tried.

the worst part of it all had been seeing glimmering thread falling into the snow with his best friend. he’d found and lost his soulmate - best friend, at the exact same time. it was a good thing to have crashed that jet into the ice, he was content with it. knowing if there was an afterlife, buck would be there with open arms.

but that’s just not how it went.

instead he woke up from a presumably deadly sleep.

all he had ever known was gone, apart from peggy, who after a little while, was gone too.

thread was still attached to him, he felt it, it was heavy, dragging him down in what felt like every step. the weight was there, but he didn’t see it.

not until a masked assassin stood in his path, mask strewn across concrete. his beautiful bucky was alive, and almost unrecognisable with the torment that surrounded him.

he cried that night.

eventually, after he fought through what felt like hell, he’d pulled bucky back from the torturous programming he’d been under. they’d come to realise that their thread, ignited since the 40’s had changed, it went in another direction.

“multiple soulmates huh?” buck realised, if steve was observant enough, he would’ve seen the defeat in his former best friend’s (now lover’s) language.

“i don’t think it will be a bad thing, it’s, exciting.”

bucky’s bit his lip, “maybe.”

it had taken years to let steve in again. he was on edge all of the time, was real panicky too. spent so much time locked in his room, and went between eating so much his stomach hurt and not having an appetite at all. it felt undeserving to have what he wanted, to have a soulmate, to be potentially happy after what he’d done.

the lives he’d taken.

the guilt had crushed him, and the self hatred never dulled. he didn’t deserve steve, he was too good. too sweet, too soft. too, steve.

when it became clear that someone else was out there, linked to steve and him, he panicked. it had been hard enough coming to terms that steve didn’t hate him, didn’t blame him. no one else could get close, what if he hurt them? what if they took steve?

what if this string thing didn’t work out all the time? everything was fine with steve. he felt safer than ever, with a calm so alien to him.

it wasn’t purposeful, but whenever the other string popped up, every time he went to touch it, it frayed. like the bond didn’t want him.

time after time it dissolved after bucky touched it, no matter how gentle or rough, it vanished. it was humiliating. after a while he just swiped at it whenever it did reappear, wanting it gone. it was just there to insult him. of course it would fray when he touched it, it was naive of him to think that a killer, someone drenched in the blood of others, could be wanted.

steve would disagree of course.

steve loved him with every fibre of his being, so fiercely it was near startling. it was more than he deserved. every embrace was simultaneously his oxygen and his undoing.

captain america was righteous, strong. believed in bucky and nursed him back to ‘health’ as much as he could. rogers was more than a tight suit and a impenetrable shield. he was everything.

he knew that steve was searching for their other, other half. knew that he was excited to meet them, wanted to show bucky that it would be a good thing. steve hadn’t accounted for one thing, bucky’s fear.

bucky was internally petrified of losing his everything.

he swiped at the string over and over, and the guilt was way lesser than the fear.

the name you’d gotten was steve, which you knew from the moment his trademarked straw hair and ocean eyes filled your vision, you’d quickly texted your friends not to worry.

followed string, please hold onto that jacket, it’s my favourite. i’ll be sad if you lose it :(

he had ordered two coffees, “this may take a while.” the man wrung his hands nervously, it was mildly comforting to know you weren’t the only one with a pounding heart and a sweaty brow.

“you’re different than i thought you’d be.” it had come out in a splutter, scrounging for a conversation, it would be embarrassing to confess you just wanted to hear him talk more.

the raise in his brow only made your heart thud faster, eyes becoming half amused and half apprehensive. “how so? i’m sorry if uh, don’t cut it.”

you had practically interrupted him, “no - you’re just, i mean for one you’re captain america. makes sense why i couldn’t find you, you’ve probably been all over the place.” after years of pondering about your soulmate, finally coming face to face with one of them was exhilarating and overwhelming. and you couldn’t stop talking, spilling too many words. it was a wonder that he kept up. “and secondly, you cut it, how you look is borderline unfair to the general public.”

you had caught him off guard, and his laugh, it came from his chest. deep, rich and warm. “fighting takes you all over. i’m glad - that i cut it. been worrying that you were making it disappear, that you didn’t want to see me - us.”

mid sip, you halted. he drank his own coffee with a small smile. “you uh, know the other one?”

his lips quirked up more, a fondness shining in his pupils, “you could say that.” steve cleared his throat, thumbing the handle of the coffee cup, “i’ve known him my whole life,” he hesitated, “his name is bucky.”

everyone who’d paid attention to the news was aware who this ‘bucky’ was. captain america’s best friend who was taken in by hydra and brainwashed so severely he’d lost himself along the way, who was used as a weapon for a long, long time.

steve was prepared for a bad reaction, people weren’t always understanding when it came to buck. more often than not, they’d call him a killer or become uncomfortable. it made him incredibly protective, and he struggled to stay present in a conversation after judging bucky so poorly.

“you don’t need to be on edge you know.” you spoke, spotting the super soldier’s tense posture. “i know who he is,” you started carefully, sweeping across the expanse of steve’s face, “and anyone with a brain knows what happened to him, is not his fault.”

steve inhaled with a shaky, but relieved breath. “thank yo-“

“you don’t need to,” you cut in, “i’ve been waiting for years, for you, for you both technically.” a blush quickly swarmed your cheeks, and you broke the eye contact between the two of you. the rest of the sentence was silent, but steve would’ve decoded it as: i don’t give up so easily.

being connected by fate to one extremely attractive man was already hard to grasp. but two of them? it was almost sending you to an early grave. it was easy to see just from a small interaction that steve was sweet, protective, handsome and you were bound to him.

“he’s a tough nut to crack.” a part of you laughed at the innuendo, but outwardly, just managed to keep it in. “he’s probably worried, said i’d be back by 5, always make sure im never late.”

“trying to escape already?” you teased, before asking for his number. he fumbled around with his phone, shaking his head at your question. it was slightly endearing how steve’s fingers shook as he pulled up his contact details. despite the pair of you trying to appear confident, you were equally as nervous and giddy.

as soon as you finished inputting the information, the door to the cafe dinged, and in walked the reincarnation of sin itself. brown messy hair and the most hypnotising steel irises. red thread wrapped around the metal of his arm beautifully. you sucked in a breath, not out of fear of who bucky was, but the dawning realisation you were linked with perhaps the prettiest men on earth.

his face was hard set, pulled taut and serious. clinically, and methodically, he swept over the cafe until he found his target. the tension from the man visibly eased, enough so that he didn’t even clock the person sitting across from steve. who, if he had noticed, was staring at him unashamedly.

“it’s 6, you’re never late.” bucky narrowed his stare pointedly, quickly checking to see if steve was perhaps held back by an injury. when he found nothing, he almost looked offended.

steve’s lids fluttered at the timbre of his partners voice greeting him, “mhm.” amusement quickly overcame his expression, “well, i was busy.”

“busy with what?” bucky almost growled, frowning at the pleased glint present in steve’s pupils, and how his partner seemed smug. he was happy about not coming home? he’d been waiting at home like a damn dog, until noticing the string and following it to steve like he was on a mission. steve shifted to look at you, and couldn’t help the smile that burst from him. oh you were perfect. not afraid or judgmental of bucky at all, you instead looked all but ready to devour the ex assassin.

at steve’s silence, and sudden interest looking at something else, bucky cranked his head to the side. all words dying on his tongue the second he caught onto you, the string cocooning you and your ecstatic half crinkled eyes. “oh.”

“oh.” steve echoed with a poorly hidden smirk, anxiety tugging at his chest, waiting to see how bucky would react. it all depended on this moment.

it was basically a staring contest with the amount of eye contact between the two of you. it was like bucky was searching for something within you, trying to dig into your core and assess what laid there. “this is an acceptable reason for being late.” and with that, he turned away.

steve sighed exasperated, “i’m sorry for him, that, that was rude buck.” back in the 40’s bucky was an unrivalled gentleman, polite to women and men alike. he was guarded, too much so. steve had desperately wanted to forge a connection with their third partner, and didn’t expect bucky to seem almost against it.

“don’t apologise for me.” he withheld a small scowl, flicking back and forth between steve and you. it didnt deter you, rationally maybe it should have, but you waited 5 years. you’d be damned if you gave up on the first hurdle. steve had said he was a ‘tough nut to crack’, so cracked he would be.

“it’s alright,” you waved steve’s concern off, “it’s good to meet you, years of waiting was worth it.” you raised your hand expectantly, bucky hesitated, until stubbornly wrapping his metal fingers around your flesh ones. the lack of alarm or fright from touching the metal limb had him faltering.

you truly weren’t affected by him or the history and baggage he carried.

with a confidence you weren’t sure you had, you leant closer, heart hammering at a speed that felt dangerous. slowly, and tentatively, you placed a tender kiss upon the back of the silver hand. bucky’s reaction was a sucked in breath and a sharp twitch in the prosthetic limb. it was almost as if he’d felt the sensation coursing through him. “i am sorry for keeping your partner, do forgive me.”

“i’ll think about it.” his stoic facade was ruined by the smallest lopsided lift of his lips. all three of you had trouble slowing your pulses, all frantic and strangled by adrenaline. “here again, tomorrow at 2.” he all but demanded, pulling away and walking towards steve.

“bucky! you can’t just - buck!” the blonde groaned, jumping at bucky interlinking their hands and dragging him away. before he was completely swept, steve fumbled through his wallet and laid money on the table for the coffees, “i hope tomorrow at 2 is convenient.”

“i’ll think about it.” you replied, slyly laughing at steve before he disappeared through the glass cafe door.

there was no doubt about it, they would cram into every space hidden within your head, without any resistance. one interaction with them both, and you were a goner.

you leant into your hands, muffling the borderline painful grin painted on your face. after a moment, you turned on your phone, sending the fastest text.

you are never going to believe this, i’m coming back for my jacket, and for drinks.

your index hovered over the new contact in your phone, and before you could think it through, you typed away.

you both cut it ps. do you or bucky want flowers or chocolates?

a/n: so i started this fic today, and it was meant to be a very short one, more of a drabble than anything. i’ve become more attached than initially expected, and it became a longer fic. divider credits are me just in case anyone was about to ask about them, i might post them!! i think i need some more to do a batch though.

i don’t normally see more confident readers/a mix of flustered and confident, and i’m not sure how well received it will be because of that. i hope there’s people that can appreciate a cheeky hand kiss and a little bit of flustered steve and bucky. reader would spoil them both, gifts and open affection, would be so supportive and protective, steve and bucky would end up so possessive of them in return.

i hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it !! merry early christmas <33

[th30ra3k3n]

“sometimes you think that you want to disappear

but all you really want is to be found.”

(anonymous)

[longlivedelusion]

Bit O' Swing

Bucky x Reader / No use of Y/N / Drabble

Summary: You've been begging Bucky to teach you some 40s dances for a while now, and he finally gave in. Little hint of Sam and Steve commentary too 😏

Warnings: Fluffy, no warnings. Some insecurity but that's it.

A/N: had a dream last night that Bucky literally taught me how to 40s dance so this is how this came to life. Woke up and was like "write that down, write that down!!!" And so I did. Enjoy this little drabble that's definitely just been written at like 7am.

Masterlist

Bucky's hand slipped around your waist, slightly hesitant at first. His other hand moved to yours and he pulled you in.

"Uh- yeah- so you just follow my lead and uh- feel the music. We'll take it slow." Bucky said, the sound of 40s music blaring around the room.

~

"You think he's gonna trip before even getting a step out?" Sam said low to Steve, a small smirk on his face as he leaned back against the couch watching the whole thing play out.

Steve's eyes stayed on his best friend and his dance partner, "Bucky was always a hell of a dancer. He got a lot of girls that way, so I think he'll be fine."

Sam snorted, "Yeah, but you see who he's dancing with?" Sam vaguely gesturing in your direction.

Steve smiled. "You may have a point there."

~

Bucky started off slow, despite the fast music. He lightly pulled on my body to show where he was going, matching the beat but slower. "See, you gotta swing your hips a bit this way, and your feet will uh-" He tripped, quickly collecting himself. "Shit, sorry, they'll kind of move this way but faster."

I smiled, easily mirroring Bucky's movements, "Like this?"

He nodded, "Yeah, yeah that's perfect." He then slipped his hand from my waist but kept one hand on mine. "Then you, we, usually dance like this where I'll kind of swing you around and pull you in, and kinda repeat that. Any of this makin' any sense?"

I followed his movements, watching the pattern and beat he was talking about. "Yeah, it's all makes sense. Keep going."

"Great, okay, yeah so you move your feet like this when we're out-" he started to show the movements before losing his grip a bit on me. "Shit, sorry, maybe I'm not actually the best to show you this." He stopped his movements.

"You're doing great James." I slow down with him, eyes trying to meet his. I gently squeezing his hand. "I think I'm getting it down, keep going."

He nodded, quickly glancing at me. "I swear I'm a good dancer. Just been'a while."

"I know you are. I can tell. Just relax, ok? This is just some fun." I nudge him encouragingly.

He let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, right. Okay." He pulled me back in and swung me out, his feet moving still slower than the beat to show me the movements.

I noticed the pattern and looked back up. "Can we try it a bit faster?"

He nodded before taking me through the motions, now on time. I could really tell good a dancer he was despite his earlier little hiccups, his body matching pace of the song easily. He was a bit tense, like he always was, but had this definite groove to him. Like it was built into his body.

And despite his nerves, he was a damn good lead.

He pulled me forward, eyes never leaving mine as he twisted back and forth, my movements following his. It was like a wave, pushing and pulling before eventually his hand would find my waist again. Just for a second, two, moving me across the floor before leaving again.

Slowly the nerves seemed to fade.

I started to add my own groove to it too, swinging my hips back and forth, feeling him spin me around as I came back. I could see his body started to relax and the way his lips went from a thin line of concentration to eventually a small smile.

"You're pretty good at this." Bucky said, pulling me back in and keeping me there for longer than usual.

"I had a good teacher." I smiled back.

"Yeah, well looks like the student definitely passed the master." He spinned me out.

I laughed as I swung out and then felt him tug me back in. I moved in closer at the swing in, not pulling away as I held on a big smile. "Maybe I could show you a few tricks then."

Who knew the ex-assassin could blush.

[canaryarts-br]

Bucky Barnes 🖌️

[ourghoststories]

Apologies [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

"James, seriously! We're gonna get married and you can't stop getting in harm's way, you said the Winter Sol- White Wolf thing was in your past. I'm not saying you can't do anything, save the day, go chase after who you want, but please just think about how much danger you're putting yourself in and the repercussions. The government are already monitoring you closely. I don't want them to hurt you, like that flag-smasher chick or Zemo- what if they'd decided you're next?" I rambled anxiously.

"Zemo doesn't like super soldiers Buck, I don't trust him and even though you did everything right, doesn't mean he won't decide to target you, or us. I'm much more concerned about you".

"(Printcessa) принцесса, I love you but I can't do this... I need to keep going, the nightmares only lessen when I do it. I promise I won't get into stuff that doesn't involve me but I need to work through my book, I have my demons and you have yours" he said glaringly, taking a tone of frustration and concern, before letting the signature frown plaster his features.

"I can't do this either Bucky, maybe we should have a break" I sniffled.

--

I was out driving and I couldn't stop thinking about it, Bucky and I had an argument and this time it was bad.

Leaving was the only thing I could think of doing after we had the conversation, I cared about him more than anyone knew, even Bucky.

He had gotten back after everything happened with Zemo and I had no idea what was happening, he did everything by the books, despite charging into the situation most times with impulse taking over.

I loved him but I was so unsure about this, that's why we argued, Sharon was the Power Broker and had sustained injuries and it was so close to being him.

Plus I didn't like Sharon hanging around Bucky, I knew she didn't have any intentions but she killed someone without hesitation and James really didn't like that, either did Sam.

He would be steadfast and run into situations and come back to me and I'd have to deal with the injuries, the repercussions and damage, time after time and it never stopped, it was getting exponentially worse and that's why I cared, I cared because I loved him and he didn't seem to get it... Or more like he did but was being too stubborn to realise.

Even Sam was telling him to be careful to no avail, he wasn't always this brash, when Steve passed, he didn't know what to do anymore, he was lost and therefore I too, was lost- I hated seeing Bucky this way and nothing was helping, I've been happily dealing with it but I couldn't see him hurting or getting hurt without any consideration, anymore.

I drove around for a bit aimlessly, before I decided that it had been long enough and I wasn't trying to torture him, so I headed back home, the place we owned together.

"Y/n?" He said shocked, but had a smile on his face.

"Yeah I know I've fucked up, y/n, let's talk about it inside" he said apologetically.

I followed him through the front door and into the lounge room.

"I just don't know how you can keep doing it Bucky, you know how much I love and care for you, I know it's part of you and who you are but we're an us now and I need you around... Especially if we're going to have a family" I sniffled, trying not to let tears escape my eyes.

"Y/n I know, I know baby" he said sweetly, placing his metal hand on my back and rubbing it affectionately.

"We've always gotta be prepared, I'm trying to minimise threats to us, I'm going to be more careful I promise. Everything will be okay" he sympathised.

"Okay Buck I trust you, I just get scared" I sighed as he pulled me into a big hug.

He placed a kiss on my cheek, before he took my hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

"I love you" he smiled gently.

"I love you too, actually i love you more" I chuckled, poking my tongue out.

"Never doll, you know that I would never let anything happen to you, and when we decide to have a family, I'm going to be more responsible because having little mini versions of you and I would be a dream " he chuckled, caressing my face gently and putting his face close to mine so he could stare straight into my eyes.

"Bucky" I smiled happily, letting out an exhale, feeling the pressure of the situation dissipate.

"Mm?" He hummed.

"I love you so much, thank you for making me feel better" I replied as he kissed my hand lovingly.

"I'll always love you and I'll always try to do better for us, never forget that y/n, you're my first priority, not Zemo or anyone else, they'll never get between us, I pinky promise" he said soothingly.

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

girls just wanna have fun masterlist

🏘️part of the girls of paradise au🏘️

Summary: our struggle to push back against your controlling father result in a misguided crush. (Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Silverfox AU)

Status: In Progress

1

2

3

4

[violetmuses]

On Your Mind - Bucky Barnes

TITLE: “On Your Mind” || Bucky Barnes 

FANDOM: Marvel - The Falcon and The Winter Soldier 

CHARACTER: James “Bucky” Barnes 

MAIN PAIRING: James “Bucky” Barnes + Female Reader 

MAIN STORYLINE: You catch Bucky’s eye…. 

Author’s Note: Hey! Feedback would be greatly appreciated and thanks so much for reading my work as always. - V.  💜

Main Masterlist

___________

2024

It’s too early for Bucky to visit Delacroix again, but sunlight reminds him of the small fishing town in Louisiana. 

Instead, he’s kept these New York windows open now, trying to remember good times with Sam’s family. With therapy over, there’s not much else to do, especially since he retired from service. 

For the millionth time, he walks to the nearest coffee shop out of boredom, opening that front door with his bare right hand and walking inside.  

Folks here still assume that his leftward metal arm is just some highly-advanced prosthetic gifted from the military. 

He orders black coffee and corners by a window seat, just people-watching. Beyond the glass window, pedestrians move up or down the sidewalk. Personal cars or taxi cabs honk horns. Blasting music plays in all directions, echoing time and again. 

Out of nowhere, the door jingles, signaling another customer. Bucky continues sipping the coffee and doesn’t care much until he glances across this space, quietly seeing you. 

He can’t exactly see your face as you stand in line to order a beverage, but your laughter catches his attention almost immediately. 

You sound joyful and light, chatting with the barista like a good friend rather than one stranger behind that cash register. 

“Thanks.” You settle down those chuckles and head towards one of the last empty tables found here. 

Now, You’re close to Bucky without entirely invading his own space. At least you’re kind enough not to bother other people. 

You’re so pretty. Buck thinks to himself. 

You enjoy your beverage alone, but take out one paperback novel that he’s never heard of before. The cover reminds him of Crime Fiction though and its image vaguely shows a federal building. 

“Excuse me?” Bucky finally stands from his window seat and walks towards your space once you’ve set down the beverage. 

You look up, almost immediately recognizing him. Everyone remembers what happened not long ago, especially considering how Flash Smashers perished. 

“Sergeant Barnes? Hello.” You greet him out of respect and put your book down. 

“Please call me Bucky.” Barnes tells you, appreciating the rank, but still not wanting that reminder of his past. 

“Bucky.” You make the correction and also introduce yourself. There’s no other choice right now. 

“Hi. Is this seat taken?” Bucky tries to calm down his own nerves around you, recalling the day he met Sarah, Sam’s determined and gorgeous sister, not long ago. 

“Go ahead.” You offer, watching as Bucky sits down across from you and settles in with his own coffee. 

“New in town?” He asks, smiling towards you. 

“No, but it’s a long story.” You say. 

“The world already knows mine, what about yours?’ Bucky turns as a joke and faces one imaginary watch. 

“Very funny.” You play right back. 

____________

By the time you both leave that coffee shop, Bucky is laughing. Genuinely laughing for the first time in decades. You’ve found this park bench and sit beside him, continuing a light-hearted conversation. 

“You still don’t know what Netflix is?” Your jaw drops and another giggle fit starts without fail. 

“Yes. I haven’t had enough time to watch anything, though.” Bucky defends himself. 

“Just pick something.” You suggest. “That’s how it all works.” 

Moments before Bucky can respond, your phone buzzes. 

“Shit! Sorry, but I gotta go.” You look downward and furrow your brow. It’s your family, planning a backyard barbeque. 

“Everything okay?” Bucky asks, genuinely concerned as you face each other. 

“Yeah. Family plans.” You lift your cell phone and smile to reassure him. 

“Oh! It was nice meeting you. Have a good one.” Bucky calls out. 

“You too! See you around, Buck.” You gather belongings and nearly run away, but glance over one shoulder to acknowledge him.  

His heart both drops and races as you vanish from the park. 

[honeeysagee]

Supernova Chronicles #1: Star Girl

{dad's best friend!sam}

summary: Living under your ex-military father's strict rules has always been suffocating, but now that your parents are leaving for a three-month trip, you're finally getting a taste of freedom. However, just as you're ready to embrace it, your father adds a new layer of oversight by arranging for a friend to keep an eye on you. Despite the looming watchfulness, you're determined to prove your independence.

౨ৎ.....................................................౨ৎ...................................................౨ৎ

As you lifted your eyes from the pages of your book, you were surprised to find the night had settled in faster than you anticipated. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving behind only a gentle, lingering glow that barely touched the corners of your room. Sleep eluded you, knowing that in a short while, you’d see your parents off on their trip, a farewell that weighed lighter with each passing minute.

Seconds ticked away as your thoughts drifted, pondering what freedom might feel like if not for the constant, looming presence of your ex-military father, whose shadow seemed to shape your every move. You knew he meant well, that his strict rules and watchful eyes came from a place of love, but it often felt suffocating.

He wasn’t just a father; he was a guardian, a sentinel who saw the world as a place filled with threats rather than opportunities. His experiences had made him cautious, and that caution had seeped into your life, shaping your choices, your actions, and even your thoughts. Yet, all of that would soon come to a pause when you wished them good luck on their three-month trip, a temporary release from the constant watchfulness that had defined your existence.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the prospect of having the house to yourself stirred something unfamiliar—a mix of excitement and anxiety. The absence of your father’s ever-present gaze would grant you a freedom you hadn’t known in years. But with that freedom came uncertainty. Without his steady hand guiding every move, you would finally be able to explore life on your own terms.

There were so many possibilities, so many things you had pushed aside out of respect for his boundaries. You could stay out late without a curfew, invite friends over without worrying about his disapproving look, or even take a spontaneous trip without needing to provide a detailed itinerary. But along with the excitement was the nagging fear of stepping too far, of what might happen without his protection.

Your father’s voice boomed through the room, "Young lady," The weight of his tone instantly commanded your attention, as it always did. You turned to face him, bracing yourself for whatever lecture or piece of advice he was about to deliver. His expression was stern, his eyes searching yours as if he could read every thought and feeling you were trying to hide.

You went to nod before your mother stepped out from behind him, her expression softer and filled with understanding. "Give her a break, Maliki. She's 21," she said, her tone gentle yet firm.

Her words brought a momentary relief, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as the tension in the room eased slightly. Your father's eyes flicked to her, his brows furrowed in that familiar way he always did when he was caught between his protective instincts and the reality that you were no longer a child. "I know," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of a man who had seen too much in his life to ever take safety lightly. "But she's still our daughter, and it’s my job to make sure she’s safe, even when we’re not here." There was a pause, his gaze locking onto yours as if silently pleading for your understanding.

Your mother stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm, her touch doing what words couldn’t—calming the tension that had built in the room. "Maliki," she said softly, her voice a soothing balm to his worries. "She’s responsible. We’ve raised her well. Let her have some space to prove it."

He sighed deeply, the sound heavy with a mixture of concern and resignation. The years of military service had made him see the world through a lens of potential threats, and letting go—even just a little—was no small task for him. He turned back to you, his expression softening as he looked into your eyes, the same eyes he had watched grow from a curious child to a determined young woman.

"Alright," he conceded, though his voice still carried that underlying edge of caution. "But you know the rules, and I expect you to follow them."

"I will," you promised, your voice steady as you tried to reassure him. The tension in your chest eased slightly, thanks to your mother’s gentle intervention. Your father turned to retrieve their bags, the sound of his footsteps momentarily filling the room with a sense of finality.

Your mother smiled warmly at you, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding of what this moment meant. It was a look that spoke volumes—a mix of pride in the person you had become, trust in your ability to handle things on your own, and an unspoken acknowledgment that this was your time to step into your independence. "Have a little fun while we’re gone, okay? But not too much," she added with a playful wink, her attempt to lighten the mood bringing a soft chuckle from you.

Her words were a gentle reminder that while your father’s rules still applied, there was room for you to breathe, explore, and to enjoy the space they were leaving behind.

"One more thing," your father announced, marching back into the room with his usual determined stride. You sighed deeply, the sound heavy with a mix of exasperation and resignation. If it weren’t for your mother, this place would be run like a military camp, every minute accounted for, every action scrutinized.

He paused, clearly preparing to deliver another one of his directives. "I have a friend who's moving into town while we're gone. I asked him to keep an eye on you for me."

You felt your heart sink a little at the thought. Just when you had started to embrace the idea of freedom, another layer of oversight was being added. It was classic Dad—always thinking two steps ahead, always making sure you were protected, even if it meant infringing on your newfound independence.

Your mother, ever the mediator, shot him a look that spoke volumes, but he remained steadfast. His concern for your safety outweighed any notions of giving you space. As much as you appreciated his intentions, the idea of someone else watching over you in his absence felt like a tether, holding you back just when you were ready to spread your wings.

You and your mother exchanged glances, both of you struggling to hide your disbelief. You wanted to protest, to argue that you were capable of managing things on your own, but you knew better than to invite an hour-long lecture. So, instead, you took a deep breath and nodded.

"I am an adult, Dad," you said with as much sincerity as you could muster. "But thanks for looking out for me. I promise all the rules will be followed."

Your father's expression softened a bit at your words, though the concern in his eyes didn’t entirely fade. He gave a nod of approval, seemingly satisfied with your response. Your mother’s smile was both understanding and relieved, her eyes conveying a silent message of support.

With one last look around the room, your father finally turned to finish preparing for their departure. You felt a mix of frustration and acceptance, knowing that while you might have a bit more freedom, your father’s protective instincts would always be a part of your life.

With the little freedom you did have before the mystery friend showed up, you decided that spending the night at an old fling's house was smart. Except… as the night wore on, you realized that old sparks didn’t always reignite the way you expected. What once felt exciting now seemed dull, the connection that had once drawn you to them fading into something that felt almost forced.

The conversation lagged, the laughter felt hollow, and the thrill you’d anticipated was replaced with a creeping sense of discomfort. That led you to a bar within walking distance of the college you attended. It was a place where you had spent many nights before—familiar enough to feel comfortable but far enough from home to let you forget about the lingering weight of your father’s rules. As you pushed through the doors and into the dimly lit room, the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses provided the backdrop you needed to clear your head. Here, among strangers and old acquaintances, you could lose yourself in the anonymity of the crowd.

You settled by the bar, knowing the bartender, Danny. You called out to him, and as you did, you noticed his eyes already scanning you, a familiar gleam in them. "Is that my baby?" he teased, his voice warm and inviting, the grin on his face growing wider.

It was the kind of greeting that brought an instant smile to your face, easing the lingering discomfort from earlier in the night. You felt a sense of comfort in his playful tone, the familiarity of it all a welcome change from the awkwardness you had just left behind.

"Only if you’ve got something strong for me," you replied, your voice carrying the same playful edge.

He chuckled, already reaching for a glass. "For you? Always." With that, he poured you a shot, the amber liquid catching the low light as it filled the glass. He slid it across the bar towards you with a wink. "On me tonight," he added, his tone softening with a touch of familiarity.

Your eyes lingered on the drink for a moment, watching the way the light played off its surface, shifting colors as it danced through the glass, casting an orange glow. You wrapped your fingers around the cool glass, bringing it to your lips with a sense of anticipation.

As you downed the shot, the burn of the alcohol was immediate, but it quickly gave way to a spreading warmth that settled deep within you.

Danny smiled deeply at you before returning to some people who shouted orders at him. But even during the chaos, he didn’t forget about you. Without a second thought, Danny placed two glasses in front of you—a small routine he’d developed over the years. One glass held another mystery alcohol, something he knew would be strong but smooth, and the other was filled with water, a silent reminder to pace yourself.

You took both glasses in hand, the coolness of the water a sharp contrast to the warmth still lingering from the first shot. With a nod of thanks, you left the bar and headed upstairs to your usual table on the second floor, a quiet spot tucked away from the busier parts of the bar.

Yet, as you approached your usual table, you found it already occupied. Sitting there was a man who seemed to draw every eye in the room.

He had a striking presence that commanded attention effortlessly. Tall and broad-shouldered, he exuded a confidence that was both relaxed and commanding. His skin was a deep, warm brown that seemed to glow under the bar’s ambient lighting, and his well-defined features were framed by a neatly trimmed beard that added a touch of rugged charm.

His eyes were captivating—dark, expressive, and framed by thick lashes that only intensified their depth. They held a warmth and intensity that suggested both kindness and a hint of mischief. He wore a simple yet stylish outfit: a well-fitted shirt that accentuated his muscular frame, with sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, toned arms. His casual, yet impeccably put-together appearance spoke of someone who was effortlessly stylish, with an air of sophistication that suggested he knew exactly how to balance charm and grace.

As he leaned back in the chair, his posture was relaxed but confident, and every movement he made seemed deliberate, adding to his aura of effortless cool. It was the kind of presence that made heads turn and hearts flutter, the kind of charisma that made any woman, or anyone, for that matter, fall for him almost instantly. And despite not even hearing this man speak, you were falling.

"Excuse me, you're in my booth." The words came out with a boldness that surprised even you. Normally, if your spot was taken, you would have found somewhere else to enjoy your drink and listen to the live music. But tonight was different. Something in you stirred, pushing you to assert yourself in a way you usually wouldn’t.

The man looked up, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. He didn’t seem fazed by your direct approach—instead, a hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth, as if he found your boldness refreshing. He straightened in his chair, his posture now more attentive, and his eyes sparkled with interest.

"I’m sorry about that," he said, his voice smooth and reassuring, with just a touch of charm. "I didn’t realize we had assigned seating in the bar."

The playful glint in his eyes suggested he was enjoying the exchange. His smile remained, warm and inviting, as if he were genuinely intrigued by your assertiveness. You noticed the way his smile seemed to light up the space around him, making it hard to stay annoyed. Despite the initial irritation of having your usual spot taken, you found yourself drawn to his easy confidence and charm.

"No, but it’s my usual spot," You continued, trying to maintain a balance between firmness and the hint of humor in your voice. "I guess I just get a little territorial over it."

He chuckled softly, the sound smooth and easy on the ears. "I see. Well, if it’s that important to you, princess, I’m happy to move." Yet, he didn’t budge. Instead, he picked up his drink, taking a casual sip while holding your gaze.

You found yourself swimming in the depths of his eyes, losing track of everything else around you. There was a magnetic quality to his stare, a captivating intensity that made it hard to look away. The playful challenge in his expression seemed to dare you to continue, making the air between you feel charged with unspoken possibilities.

You met his gaze with a raised eyebrow, trying to maintain your composure despite the flutter of excitement in your chest. The question hung in the air, a playful invitation wrapped in charm.

“Well, considering you seem to be quite comfortable,” you replied, a touch of amusement in your voice, “I guess I’ll have to find another spot.” You started to turn, but his voice stopped you.

“Why don’t you join me?” he offered, his tone a bit darker despite the earlier banter.

The subtle shift in his voice didn't scare you away. Instead, it drew you closer, adding an intriguing layer to the conversation. The seriousness of his offer contrasted with the playful edge, making the invitation feel more intimate. You settle into the booth - just across from him.

"How long have you been in college?"

The question took you by surprise. It was an unexpected shift from the lighthearted banter you’d been engaged in. You blinked, momentarily caught off guard, trying to gauge the intent behind the seemingly simple question.

You quickly recovered, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. “A couple of years,” you replied, your tone casual but with a trace of curiosity. “How did you know I was in college?”

His gaze remained steady, as if he were genuinely interested in your answer, adding a new layer to the encounter. "You have a full glass of alcohol in your hand. The college is quite literally walking distance from the bar. Plus, you just have that look." You were used to being read. Your father did it effortlessly, and you often found it intrusive and irritating. But when this man did it, you found it surprisingly attractive. Something was compelling about the way he observed you, his insight was delivered with a mix of curiosity and charm that felt both flattering and intriguing.

A smile tugged at your lips as you leaned in slightly, your interest piqued. “And what kind of look is that?” you asked, your voice laced with playful challenge. The attraction you felt was undeniable, and you found yourself wanting to dive deeper into this unexpected connection.

"What are you studying in college?" He ignored you, but the way he spoke, with that mix of confidence and insight, made the atmosphere between you both feel electric. His words, though perceptive, were wrapped in a charm. You took a sip from your glass, savoring the warmth of the alcohol as you considered his observation. “Psychology. Minor in astrology,” You admitted your voice soft. His eyes never left yours, and there was something in his gaze that made you feel seen in a way you rarely experienced.

"Oh, a stargirl. What, you're going to read my palm? Tell me that my sun's in retrograde, and I'm going to experience something devasting next week?" He was playing with you. That teasing grin plastered on his face told you everything. You played along,

"You wish," you replied with a smirk, leaning in slightly. "But no, I’m more interested in the why behind it all. Like why you think your not-so-subtle charm works, Mr…" His teasing grin faltered for a moment, caught off guard by your directness. You could see him recalculating, trying to figure out whether you were playing the same game or a different one entirely.

"Call me Sam."

"Sam." You repeated. "Nice to meet you." You let his name linger on your lips, testing the waters. The way he watched you, eyes narrowing slightly, told you he was still trying to get a read on you. "Well, now that we’re on a first-name basis, care to enlighten me on why you think my charm isn’t working?" he asked, leaning in closer, his tone playful but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

You tilted your head, considering him for a moment before responding. "It's not that it isn’t working. It’s just that it’s a little too practiced. Like you’ve used it one too many times and are still waiting for someone to catch on."

His smile grew, but there was something different behind it now—an acknowledgment that you weren’t just another easy mark. "Maybe you’re right," he conceded, his voice dropping lower. "But maybe I’m not the only one with a practiced game."

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at your lips as Sam slipped closer to you in the booth. The sudden closeness sent a jolt of awareness through you, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the warmth of his presence. His arm brushed against yours, a deliberate move, but his gaze remained steady on yours, searching, perhaps, for a reaction.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting, “it’s not often I meet someone who can see through the act.”

You felt the pull of his words, the way he was trying to draw you in, but you weren’t about to let him take control so easily. “Maybe it’s because I’ve seen it all before,” you replied, your tone casual, though your heart was pounding. “Or maybe it’s just that I’m not as easily swayed as you think.”

The band downstairs began to play a tamer version of "Lost in The Fire" by The Weeknd, the sensual beats weaving through the air, amplifying the tension between you and Sam. He leaned in even closer, his voice barely cutting through the music. “Seems like the universe is giving us a moment,” he teased, his lips dangerously close to your ear. You could feel the heat of his breath, the intimacy of the moment making your pulse quicken.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, which had grown darker, more intense under the dim lights. “Is that what you think this is?” you asked, your tone playful but edged with challenge.

“Maybe,” he said, his eyes flicking down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Or maybe it’s just a lucky coincidence. Either way, I’m not going to waste it.”

The brief touch of his lips sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could fully process the moment, he closed the distance completely, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was both soft and deliberate. The world around you seemed to blur, the music, the crowd, everything fading into the background as the warmth of his kiss anchored you to the moment. For a second, you hesitated, feeling the intensity of the connection, the electricity between you both undeniable. But then you found yourself responding, your hand instinctively reaching up to touch his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of stubble beneath your fingertips.

The kiss was his, yours—a perfect blend of give and take, like a dance where neither led nor followed, but both moved in sync. It wasn’t just about the physical connection; there was something deeper, an unspoken understanding that neither of you had expected but couldn’t ignore. You weren’t new to this. Kissing strangers in a bar whenever the mood struck was something you could handle—a momentary escape, a way to feel something real in the midst of a night out. But this time, it felt different. There was something in the way Sam kissed you, something more than just a fleeting connection. It lingered, like a spark that refused to die out.

The desire for more surged through you, overpowering the usual restraint you held onto in these moments. You bit his lip, a teasing nip that conveyed your need without words. It was a bold move, one that signaled you were no longer just playing along—you were in control, too.

His response was immediate. A low groan escaped him, and you felt the shift in his demeanor as his hand slipped up your leg, fingers tracing a path that left a trail of heat in its wake. The closeness between you intensified, the air around you thick with tension as the line between want and need blurred.

You were teetering on the edge, knowing that you were pushing boundaries, both yours and his. The thrill of it all, the way he responded to your every move, made you crave more. It wasn’t just about the kiss anymore; it was about the power, the connection, the undeniable chemistry that was sparking between you two.

He pulled away just enough to shift your position, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap. The movement was fluid, controlled, and he held you there with a firm grip, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation. For a brief second, he paused, giving you the space to decide, to back out if you wanted to. But who were you to do so? The thrill of the moment, the intensity of the connection—it was all too intoxicating to resist. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm as you steadied yourself on his chest, your legs now straddling his.

His hands settled on your hips, holding you close, but still allowing you the freedom to move, to take control if you wanted. The music, the dim lights, the distant hum of the crowd—all of it faded into the background as the space between you vanished once again.

His hand traveled farther up your thigh, reaching the edge of your lacey underwear. The touch was tentative at first, his fingers brushing lightly against the delicate fabric. You could feel the heat of his touch through the lace, a mix of anticipation and excitement building between you both.

His eyes remained locked on yours, seeking any hint of reluctance, but all he saw was the undeniable intensity between you. Your question, murmured against his lips, was met with a dark, hungry look.

“Nervous? I can stop if you don’t think you can handle it?” you asked, your voice teasing and breathless.

He responded by pulling you down harder onto him, the pressure of his hard on unmistakable against you. You could feel the heat and firmness through the fabric of his jeans, his desire pressing firmly into you. The action was assertive, a clear statement of just how much he wanted you.

His grip on your hips tightened, his gaze intense as he sought your reaction. “Handle it?” he growled softly, his voice a mix of raw desire and playful challenge. “I’m just getting started."

Finally, his pulls your underwear to the side, and ran his thick, long fingers against your pussy. You let out a soft gasp as his fingers did wanders. He bit at your neck as you moaned. His thumb stroked your clit gently, and he smirked when he heard you suck in a sharp intake of breath, the sensation making you arch against his hand. "Tell me how much you want it, my stargirl?" He purred, his voice rough. He pressed his hand forward, rubbing against your center, slowly increasing the pace and pressure, his other hand moving higher, stroking over your breasts while his mouth trailed kisses along your neck and down your jawline to your shoulder.

A deep groan tore from your throat as you bucked against his hand, the sensations overwhelming you. The pleasure was intense, a wave of heat and desire crashing over you, making it hard to focus on anything else. You could only hope that the music blaring around you would drown out the sounds of your moans, as you lost yourself in the moment.

His hand pressed against you with increasing firmness, each touch igniting a new wave of pleasure that had you gasping for breath. The crowd and the music faded into a distant background as you focused solely on the connection between you, your body responding instinctively to every movement he made.

The intensity of the moment was undeniable, the pleasure building with every second, leaving you both caught in a heady mix of desire and anticipation. Sam knew exactly how to touch you, his touches always light, almost hesitant.

His hand now underneath your shirt and letting his rough fingers pull and rub on your nipple. As soon as the sensation became too much, you arched your back towards him, desperate for release, wanting his touch to be the only thing keeping you grounded as you struggled to hold on. He continued to tease you. His words floated through your head, charged with a mix of command and promise. “Don’t you come, or I’ll bend you over the table and let the world see how beautiful you look when you moan.”

The intensity of his voice, combined with the forbidden edge of his words, only heightened the pleasure you were already experiencing. The image he painted was both thrilling and provocative, pushing you to the brink of control. Your body trembled in the need to comply with this stranger's demand. You could feel him, feel yourself pulsating beneath his hand as his finger played around the tip of your swollen clit. The sensations were indescribable, sending your mind flying as you tried desperately to stay afloat on the waves of sensation crashing around you. His fingers worked quickly, his motions slow and calculated.

“Sam,” you whined, your voice a mixture of desperation and desire. The sound was almost a plea, a soft, urgent call. He responded with a low, approving growl, his hand continuing its relentless exploration. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Let me hear you, Stargirl."

You whimpered, the sound vibrating in your throat as his lips pressed harshly against the spot below your ear, his teeth grazing ever so slightly across the sensitive flesh. The combination of his touch and his rough, seductive whisper made your breath hitch.

“Come,” he murmured, his voice rough and commanding, “Come on, Baby Girl. Tell me what you want.” The raw intensity of his voice was a seduction all on its own, fueling the fire within you. Your pleas came out in a breathless rush. “I want it. I want it so bad. Please.”

You were pleading with the devil himself, caught in the overwhelming blend of desire and desperation, the need for his touch and his dominance consuming you completely. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, the touch burning through the thin fabric of his shirt, making him shudder slightly as you gripped him. He could feel your nails digging into his scalp, scratching at the strands of his hair before dragging them down his neck. He shuddered again as his fingers moved faster, circling your clit in small circles. Each one drove you closer to the edge, until there was no turning back. No running from this. There was no going back after this, only forward.

As the orgasm took over, your cries echoed throughout the room, punctuated by gasps and moans that grew louder with every passing second. The intensity of the moment left you breathless, your body struggling to contain the overwhelming surge of pleasure building inside you. Each muscle felt strained, pushed beyond its limits, as every thrust drove you closer to the edge.

The sounds you made, the way he looked at you, and the intensity of his touch all combined to fuel the fire between you. The passion and energy surged, driving both of you to the brink, as you fought to get even closer, to experience the connection at its fullest.

With every movement and every word spoken in your favor, the climax approached with a force that left you completely vulnerable, the moment consuming you entirely as you both reached for that ultimate release. As the climax surged through you, it felt like an explosion of sensation, every fiber of your being caught in the throes of ecstasy. Your cries grew more frantic, each sound a testament to the intensity of the moment. The room seemed to spin around you, the music and the crowd becoming distant echoes as you were consumed by the overwhelming pleasure.

His movements were relentless, perfectly in tune with your responses, pushing you to the absolute edge. Every thrust, every touch was precise, maximizing the pleasure that you were both experiencing. His eyes never left yours, filled with a fierce, possessive intensity that only heightened the sensation.

The energy between you was electric, a tangible force that seemed to build with each passing second. You could feel the sweat on your skin, the heat of his body against yours, and the rhythm of your combined breaths creating a symphony of desire.

As the final wave of orgasm washed over you, it was as if time stood still. Your body tensed and shuddered uncontrollably, every muscle locked in a state of heightened pleasure. You were utterly lost in the moment, every sensation amplified, every sound magnified.

Finally, as the climax began to ebb, you both slowly came back to yourselves, the immediate rush of pleasure giving way to a lingering sense of satisfaction. The intensity of the connection between you remained, a testament to the shared experience and the power of the moment. He gently eased his hold on you, his touch becoming tender and reassuring as he helped you settle.

"Your charm is working wonders." You whispered to him

His eyes sparkled with a mix of satisfaction and amusement as he looked at you. You could see the effect your words had on him, the way his smile widened at your playful gratitude. He brushed his thumb over your lip before leaning in close to your face, pressing his mouth to yours in a passionate kiss. "It really does."

౨ৎ.....................................................౨ৎ...................................................౨ৎ

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, you lay in bed, reflecting on the night you had just shared. The warmth of Sam’s touch and the intensity of your connection replayed in your mind, vivid and electrifying. You could still feel the lingering traces of pleasure, a reminder of the unforgettable experience that had left an indelible mark on you.

But as you thought back on the night, a pang of regret tugged at your heart. The abruptness of your departure weighed heavily on your mind, leaving you unsettled. You had wanted to leave with him, to linger in the warmth of the connection you had forged. But as he turned to pay the tab, a sudden wave of uncertainty had washed over you.

In that fleeting moment, doubt had crept in. The intensity of what you had shared felt almost too real, too overwhelming, and the vulnerability that came with it scared you. So, instead of waiting for him, instead of letting yourself be drawn back into his orbit, you slipped quietly through the bar door, leaving before he had a chance to turn around. Not to mention, your father's call.

Now, in the light of morning, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had made a mistake. You had let the moment slip away, leaving behind something that had felt meaningful, something that had the potential to be more than just a fleeting encounter.

You wondered what Sam had thought when he turned around and found you gone, and whether he had felt the same connection you did. The regret gnawed at you, but so did the uncertainty of what might have happened if you had stayed.

As you lay there, the room quiet and still, you couldn’t help but replay the scene in your head. You remembered the way Sam had looked at you, the way he had responded to your every touch and whisper. The memory was tinged with a bittersweet edge now, the sudden end to such a profound connection leaving you with mixed emotions.

The departure had been sudden and unceremonious, and you found yourself wishing you had been able to give the night—and Sam—the closure they deserved. You thought about how you might reach out to him, how you might explain the abrupt end and express your gratitude for the night you had shared. Yet, your little Cinderella act left with you nothing.

You decided, then, that you couldn't waste your three months of freedom of fantasizing over what ifs with a guy the same age as your father. It would never happen, and besides, you knew nothing about him. He was just some guy in the bar with really nice hands.

The doorbell rang, pulling you from your thoughts. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you sat up in bed, wondering who could be at the door so early. The bell kept ringing, persistent and insistent, refusing to be ignored. After another few moments, you gave in, sighing as you pushed off the covers and swung your legs over the side of the mattress.

As you made your way downstairs, you passed through the kitchen, absently pushing some dishes into the sink, just in case your father had returned. The house was quiet, the early morning light casting soft shadows across the floor. You couldn’t shake the strange mix of anticipation and anxiety that had settled in your chest, a nagging feeling that something unexpected was about to happen.

Reaching the door, you paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before opening it. The thought of who might be on the other side lingered in your mind, a blend of curiosity and trepidation swirling together.

With a quick twist of the knob, you pulled the door open, and the breath caught in your throat. There he was. Sam.

He stood on the doorstep, phone pressed to his ear, but his eyes were fixed on you, an unreadable expression on his face. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension from the night before lingering in the air between you. The surprise of seeing him here, of all places, left you momentarily speechless.

His gaze didn’t waver, and though he was speaking softly into the phone, his attention was entirely on you. There was a mixture of emotions in his eyes—curiosity, maybe even a hint of something deeper, something unresolved from the night before.

He said something quickly into the phone, his voice low and calm, "Yeah, she came to the door."

You cocked your head to the side slightly, confusion and curiosity mixing in your expression. The way he spoke, so assured and composed, contrasted with the flurry of emotions you were feeling. His words hung in the air, leaving you to wonder who he had been talking to and why he was here.

"Sure thing, Maliki," he said, putting extra emphasis on your father's name. The realization hit you like a jolt—this wasn’t just a chance encounter. This was the man your father had sent to watch over you.

Your eyes widened slightly as the pieces fell into place. The sudden phone call last night, the urgency in your father’s voice, and now Sam standing here on your doorstep, all made sense. The night you had shared, the connection that felt so real, now had an entirely different context. He wasn’t just some guy you met at the bar—he was here because your father had sent him.

"Don't worry," Sam stated, his tone darker and more intense than anything you had heard from him the night before. The shift in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and your heart fluttered with a mix of fear and curiosity, wondering what he truly meant.

"I'll make sure she never leaves the house," he continued, his words lingering in the air, heavy with implications.

Your pulse quickened, a knot of anxiety forming in your chest as you tried to decipher his intent. The man who had been charming and playful just hours ago now seemed to harbor a side you hadn’t anticipated—a side that was far more serious, possibly even dangerous.

[heartswarm-void]

The Miracle Question Redux

Sam holds Bucky in a gentle embrace, kissing his boyfriend’s shoulder, where flesh meets metal, where there are scars. Sam adores everything about him.

When he was much younger, Sam asked the heavens if he’d ever find true love. The answer now lies in front of him.

“Ask me again about the miracle question.” Bucky seems lost in his thoughts. Sam carefully considers.

“Supposing a miracle occurs when you wake up, what’s something you’d like to see that’d make your life better?”

“Nothing.” Bucky’s stormy eyes are glistening. Sam looks at him questioningly.

“My life’s already better because of you.”

AO3 -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/50525890

[neonovember]

tides

thoughts of bucky and sarah have been rattling in my brain for too long. no i cant start a new series, yes i will consume every single crumb they give us of them. (i mean just look at our man, he needs her).

bucky barnes x sarah wilson

-

Louisiana is sinking. That’s what Sarah thinks, as she drives back from St Orleans taking the road that winds up and twists into her home of Delacroix. Not the decadent blues that fall heavy on her tongue as she whispers along with the lyrical soundscape of her beloved home. Not the way the unrelenting sun beats heavy on her shoulders. And definitely not the head strong mass of muscle who’s surprisingly very good at playing hide and seek sleeping on her old beaten couch.

Yes, she is thinking about the future of Louisiana’s sinkage. That’s what she convinces herself, she has done the part of the dutiful civilian, using the god awful cartoon straws that turn to mush by the second sip, set up recycling boxes near the waste bin. Participated in local cleanups, followed the hashtags and discourse, the whole lot. So she is determined to put her mind to the near cataclysmic disaster of the climate warming.

But the drum of her fingers against her steering wheel lulls her back to dark curls and the open mouthed laughter of James.

Like a tide. Always.

@fleurdelouve my adoration for this ship!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You fist Bucky’s shirt as he smothers you with his mouth. His beard is bristly as the long shanks of his hair fall forward to tickle your cheeks. His fingers curl into you as he locks you in place. You turn a hand flat to push against his chest, doing nothing to deter him, only feeling the iron strength corded in him. 

You babble against him as his tongue barges through your lips. You garble helplessly, your toes slipping on the tile as you wriggle between him and the counter. Your disbelief shatters to realisation. A rainfall of epiphanies. 

You’re all alone up here. With him. You’re trapped in the place that once made you feel free. Even if you can get away, you know deep down you won’t get far. You welcomed this beast into your home and he’s invaded every aspect of it. You’re the only piece left. 

You trail your hand up and dig your nails into his neck. He grunts, his grip wavering, you turn your chin out of his grasp. “Bucky, stop--” 

“Shhh, baby, it’s alright. I know... it’s been a while for me too,” he snarls against your cheek and catches your jaw again, twisting you back to face him. “You feel it. You’re scared, I get it. I was too--” 

“No, no, stop,” you writhe. “I don’t--” 

You whine as his hold on you aches in your skull. You gasp and once more, his mouth is on yours. He’s ravenous as he suffocates you with his tongue. He tilts your head back, growling as he devours you. You slap a hand onto the counter to keep from slipping, your other tugging weakly at his shirt. 

He eases, only to nibble on your lower lip as he purrs. He hooks his other arm around you, his hand firmly latched onto your chin. His touch sends tendrils crawling up your spine as it descends. He gropes your ass and snarls. 

“Bucky,” you snivel, “I’m begging--” 

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he ignores your plea. “You gotta let me.” 

He hooks his hand under your butt and scoops you off your feet. He puts you on the counter as he detaches from your mouth and you clasp onto his shoulders as you teeter dangerously. His hand creeps along your hip and up your side. You shudder as he angles his thumb under the hem of your shirt. 

You grab at the fabric but he easily swipes it away. He yanks it higher and higher. You bat at his hands and his metal one catches you across the throat. You yelp as he pushes your head back against the cupboards. Your eyes meet and the icy blue rims around dark pupils chills you. 

Your lip trembles and your arms fall, palms pressing to the cold counter. He is something else. He is an animal. Ravenous and rabid. The futility flowing through you is just as paralysing as him. 

He hushes you and guides the shirt above your chest. You blink and flick your eyes away. Your chest thumps. You should fight. You shouldn’t just give up but you can’t even ward off your own fear. Your body locks up just like in the middle of the night when your mind disconnects from the rest of you. 

That heavy sensation coils around you. Your mind says ‘move, move, move’. Your brain shrieks in horror, but your body is motionless. Your eyes sting as he lifts the shirt, tugging it over your head so you’re forced to curl forward. He drags it down your arms and it falls to the floor in a rustle. 

He hums and bends his fingers, tracing his knuckles along your stomach. You shiver and stare pasat him. He is the dark figure standing over you as your eyes flit back and forth in the night. The obscure silhouette looming as you battle the numbness. 

The cold metal contrasts with his warm flesh. You lean back as far as you can, shrinking into yourself. He opens his hands and presses his fingertips into your skin. He kneads your softness, brushing up and down, consuming you with his touch. 

His hands crawl up to cup your thin white bra. Your voice crackles as he fondles you. He feels you in his hands, squeezing, caressing, enthralled as he watches his careful violation. You bite down and keep your eyes on the wall. If you look... you just can’t. 

One arm snakes around you and he easily pinches the strap to release the hooks. The fabric slackens and he leads it off of you. He untangles your bra and lets it drop with your shirt. You gasp again, exposed. 

He growls and surprises you as he bows. He fondles one side of your chest as his mouth tends to the other. You push on his shoulder as the pressure coils between his lips. You jab your nails into him again, this time only snagging them between the plates of his vibranium shoulder. 

You shake your head and hide behind your eyelids. Denial storms inside of you as you pull away from reality. You recede into yourself as your breath hitches, crashing down like violent tides. You shove him but he does not relent. 

It isn’t happening. 

It can’t be. 

Sam wouldn’t bring a monster into your home. 

It’s not real. Not real. 

A dribble of spit smears along the swell of your chest as Bucky reluctantly draws away. You stay as you are, quivering against the cupboards. Fabric whispers and flutters down. He wraps your hands up in his and guides them. He forces them against his hot flesh. He spreads your fingers over his chest as his heart hammers just as quick as yours. 

He quakes and his breath rattles in his throat. He lets out a gritty noise like a snarl and rubs your hands up and down his naked flesh. You feel the muscles of his stomach clench beneath the layer of doughiness. He hisses and raises your hands to his face. 

He makes you frame his bearded jaw and leans into you. He urges his way between your knee and crowds you once more. His nose brushes yours as your eyes roll behind their lids. 

“A gentleman is simply a patient wolf,” he rasps as he shoves your hands into his hair. “I’m done waiting, doll.” 

[the-voice-beckons-below]

you ever think of hybrid avengers?

puppy! hybrid peter parker who has the waggiest tail, literally thwacks the avengers with it all the time. who hides his tail and ears after everyone’s forgotten him, he knows if he bumps into mj, his tail would wag uncontrollably. he doesn’t want to seem weird to her.

wolf! hybrid bucky who’s ears and tail are partially mangled from hydra. anytime steve is near his tail manages to muster enough excitement to wag. he stays awake at night, sensitive ears twitching, paranoid there’s a threat around the corner.

hawk! hybrid sam, who complains about his wings being itchy. letting bucky preen him with a scowl, the metal fingers are nice and cold, and they aren’t oily, so they won’t mess up his wings. sometimes when surprised or unexpectedly hurt, he’ll squawk, he’ll deny it ever happened though.

cat! hybrid natasha who’s eyes are so often slitted, but if you get her any place warm her pupils are expanding instantly. the team puts red dots on targets as a joke, funny thing is, it actually helps her. she chases them down with a new vigour, just little mice under her palms. her tail doesn’t move, unless she’s incredibly relaxed. never shows her stomach.

snake! hybrid loki who has impressively sized fangs, scales that sometime appear on his skin. they shimmer between a dull green and a bright teal. he’s venomous, can control it though! only bit thor with a tiny bit of venom when they were little. his eyes are only sometimes reptilian, present in times he’s emotional or overly confident.

lion! hybrid thor, who roars when he finds something he likes so much! remember the cup smashing scene? yeah well he’s smashing it, roaring and then saying “another!” with a smile full of just teeth. who has cute little fluffy ears, lets all the avengers touch them, same as his tail. who when passionate, sprouts some fur on his cheeks, they become distractedly fuzzy. doesn’t realise for the longest time that he has retractable claws, once he finds out, they start accidentally popping out of his nails when he gets too excited or happy.

fox! hybrid tony who sometimes snickers like a traditional fox. purrs when he manages to get a good night of sleep, tail is often bushy and unkept, his ears are almost always covered by a hat. his suits have special sockets for his ears. after some time, with pepper’s help, he becomes more confident in his fox-like features and definitely models them. who eventually tries to get all the avengers on board with doing a hybrid photoshoot. he gets a lot of cravings for chicken and eggs.

—-

Author’s Note: honestly did this for a little fun. i created a new tumblr account and planned on writing a bunch, but found out my account was shadow banned. contacted tumblr and after a few days my account is no longer invisible!! so i guess this is my soft launch. just want to see if the algorithm sees me now, so any reposts, comments and likes are so so appreciated.

i’m really invested in marvel atm, so expect a lot of fics, also i wrote a miguel o’hara angst fic!! and there’s a male reader x bucky story in my drafts. i’m really excited to meeting new people and fans on tumblr, and hopefully making a community!!!

i might do a part two if this is liked :)

[th30ra3k3n]

“it’s beautiful.”

“yeah, it is.”

[aimmyarrowshigh]

JAMuary: 100 Drabbles Based on Songs (2024)

043. I Knew You Were Trouble. - Sharon Carter/Sam Wilson

[1-800-teax]

The Dora’s

TFATWS Drabble

Avenger!Reader

Wakandan!Reader

Loki x Reader

A/N : I wanted to do a Wakandan!Reader Imagine for a while, so here it is! Expect more and better ones, this is just something I had in my drafts for a while.

-*-*-*-*-

Y/n’s POV:

The sound of a spear colliding with concrete catches my attention, I take it as my cue and I walk inside with Ayo and another Dora at my sides.

The sound of my heels banging against the floors, as well as the spears of the Dora’s catches the attention of everyone in the room.

My face is mixed of annoyance and sternness as I focus my gaze straight on Bucky, paying no mind to John Walker.

"He's coming with us." I announce in Xhosa.

"Even if he is a means to your end. Time's up." Ayo follows up.

"Y/n-" Bucky starts, when I cut him off.

"James." I reply sternly, turning my focus on John Walker who starts to introduce himself.

"Hi, John Walker. Captain America." John says holding a hand out for me to shake.

I stare into his hopeful eyes for a second, holding in my piling emotions before releasing a quiet scoff, accompanied by a roll of my eyes as I walk past him towards the couch.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I feel everyone’s eyes trail after me.

I sit, crossing my legs, watching as everything unfolds.

"Well, let's uh let's put down the pointy sticks and we can talk this through." John says turning back towards Ayo.

"Hey, John take it easy. You might wanna fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje." Sam warns him, taking a quick glance at me at the end.

"The Dora Milaje have no jurisdiction here." John says to Ayo.

"The Dora Milaje has jurisdiction where ever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be." Ayo fires back which causes me to smirk.

"Okay. Look I think we got on the wrong foot-" John starts to say as he places his hand on Ayo's shoulder.

Big mistake.

Ayo hits John with her spear making him imediately fall to the ground.

I let out an amused sigh before getting up and moving towards Bucky who is seated at the bar.

"No Loki?" he asks.

"This is something I had to do on my own, for my country. This has nothing to do with him." I say watching the Dora Milaje continue to fight John and his partner.

From my peripheral, I see him nod his head absentmindedly.

Bucky releases a sigh before getting up, leading us towards where Sam is stood watching the fight.

"We should do something." Sam says to Bucky.

"Why? They're just having fun." I comment with a grin.

"Looking strong, John." Bucky encourages John, sarcastically. Which has me releasing a light giggle.

"Bucky." Sam says warningly.

Just as Ayo was about to impale John, Bucky intervenes by grabbing a hold of her spear resulting in them starting to fight.

I watch as everything unfolds before me with a bored expression on my face.

"Amelia!" Sam shouts grabbing my attention.

I let out a fustrated sigh before grabbing a spear from a Dora and throwing it so the sheild is pinned to the table with John Walker, attached to it.

John looks at me shocked and I just give him an irrated look in return.

I turn to see Ayo removing Bucky's metal arm.

Bucky looks at her then at me but I quickly turn away not wanting to see the look on his face.

Ayo says something to Bucky that I didn't quite catch before walking towards the bathroom and opening it up.

John gets his hand free and the Dora gets her spear making the sheild fall to the floor.

I slam my foot on it and caught it in my hand the way Steve taught me to.

"He's gone. Leave it." Ayo says.

I give John one last hard look before shoving the sheild onto the table and giving it on last look.

I look at Ayo and nudge my head to the door to signal 'I'll be there in a minute'.

She subtly nods and her and the Dora's left.

"Did you know they could do that?" Sam asks Bucky as he gets up off the floor.

"No." Bucky says placing it back on and adjusting it.

I walk towards them and hit Bucky upside his head before punching Sam on his bicep.

Both of them say "Ow." and groan.

"I can't believe the both of you." I lecture while resting my hands on my hips..

I let out a sigh before turning around to look at John and his partner.

"They weren't even super soldier." he says in disbelief while dazed.

"Damn right." I say sassily before walking out.

I walk towards the Royal Talon Fighter.

Ayo gives me a look and I give her a reasurring nod.

She looks away and starts to take us back home to Wakanda.