#tobacco barn
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
photo: David Castenson
254 notes
·
View notes
Text
Checking on bees, visited by the free-range horse
#blue skies#perfect clouds#so perfect they look fake!#but they were real I swear! no editing even#tobacco barn#countryside
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Old tobacco barn in Effingham, SC.
#beautiful photos#photoart#stock photos#photo art#photooftheday#my photos#photoshoot#photography#my photgraphy#my pics#art photography#art pictures#artists on tumblr#south carolina#southern beauty#southern#my art#photographers on tumblr#mother nature#tobacco barn#barn#old barn#old building#farm house#farmlife#abandoned barn#abandoned buildings#art is life#artist life#photography lover
0 notes
Text
Shady Grove Road
Lancing, TN 1948
Photos from a tobacco farm in the Cumberland valley. The barn above was accidently blown by dynamite, but was restored and still stands today. The children of the man on the left still live on the property.
#my post#photos from a family friend#cumberland valley#lancing tennessee#tennessee#tobacco farm#barns#1940s#photography
27 notes
·
View notes
Note
The lights out au is the first au in a while to peak my interest : O
I gotta know, why is Sally evil and what does she do?
Also how's Barnaby doing? <: (
im Delighted to hear that!! (also hi! your laughingstock art is adorable!)
Sally isn't really evil per se... she's just sleepwalking! while having mild to intense nightmares! most of the time she just sleeps in her house, but once per day she takes a walk - a "patrol" - around the neighborhood before going back to sleep. every so often she wakes up Extra agitated, and needs to be soothed to sleep or she'll get destructive. in general, though, Nightlight!Sally just patrols and attacks anything that makes noise until it goes Quiet again
and Barnaby! well! he's having the most wonderful dreams <3
#they're both very sleepy puppets#very Whee-Snaw Snork Mimimi Snzz yk yk#yeah barn's arm is Temporarily Not Part Of Him but he's not awake to notice or care <3#and well. hm. also it depends on which part of the au we're talking about#(most of) part one? sleepies#part two & onwards? barnaby is having a bad fucking time! emotionally! psychologically! situationally!#sally is also having a Very bad time! everyone has it rough for a While!#things have to get monumentally Worse before it starts to improve!!#wh lights out au#rambles from the bog#and i will say it now: barnaby survives. so does sally. whether they like it or not#but before all that!#good dreams!#unless you're sally! then good dreams interspersed with Terrible Nightmares!#in my mind barnaby's dream is him lounging in tree's shade during perfect weather. smoking his favorite tobacco <3
80 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tobacco barns: Secaderos (2022).
dir. Rocío Mesa.
#my screenshots#cinematography#movies directed by women#Secaderos (2022)#Tobacco barns (2022)#Rocío Mesa#cinema without people
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
my beloved enjoys sampling fragrances, and she recently got me a vial of this stuff called Cowboy Grass and, ground under my feet, it smells like my part of tx in a way that has me rolling around like a dog on carrion. it's so good.
#the musk deer im still mulling over but I haven't given it as many tries since I've been so enamoured with this one#it's like worn leather dried tobacco leaves and dry prairie grass in summer with the dust that clings to it#a lovely combination of empty barn and the tallgrass prairies fringed with scrub oak
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
[ID: Two photos of the interior of an old wooden barn, one in head-on perspective of sunlight shining through the cracks between boards of a set of doors. The second is zoomed in on the sunlight shining through another set of doors, faintly illuminating an ATV (I think) parked in a dim corner. There is a stack of new wooden boards in the foreground of the second photo. The barn has multiple layers of wooden rafters of the sort used for drying tobacco, and the floor is newly built. End ID]
some photos of an old tobacco barn being updated to be a space for building small boats. it seems like the old rafters are being left in place which i hope is the case cause theyre real neat to me
#we have so mant old tobacco sticks that our friend has given us from this barn#we use them for lots of stuff like stacking wood and hanging string lights on in the yard#*many#bearzphotos#described
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
#tree tobacco#nicotiana glauca#solanaceae#flowering trees#toxic plants#seed pods#trolley barn park#san diego
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Photo: David Castenson
192 notes
·
View notes
Text
Look at this... 👀
Look at this... 👀 https://pin.it/65xkPZZF6
0 notes
Text
Country Stores
It’s hard to find an old country store in operation these days. I see some old ones here and there, mostly boarded up, abandoned and run down. I asked some folks on Facebook if they knew of any that were still open. I got all sorts of responses. Some folks suggested Cracker Barrel and I had to laugh! Clearly these people are much younger than me or not from around here. I mentioned worn wooden…
View On WordPress
#barning tobacco#country#Country store#farming#food pyramid#hoop cheese#not CrackerBarrel#RC Crown colas#store#summertime#Uncle Macon#Uncle Otha#Uncle Peck
0 notes
Text
Your boys
Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x Female reader
Summary - The war has been a brutal reality check for you in more ways than one, the first being that life is far more fragile than you thought, and the second that you were deeply in love with not one… but both of your best friends.
Word count - 8k
Warnings - (18+) Smut, threesome, oral sex, handjob, mentions of war and homophobia.
A/N - Hi, im still here kinda. Suffered a pretty rough, year long writers block and then was finally able to edit this one shot I wrote ages ago. I hope you enjoy it and all its filth.
________________________________
The half-empty bar rings with laughter and the clinking of glasses as its patrons drown out their sorrows with liquor, a temporary haven for those seeking distraction from the heartlessness they've seen in the past few years. The smoke in the air was thick, but better than what you were used to, the scent of tobacco, not fire out on the field, though it lingers in your nose all the same.
The music, a familiar jazz tune carries through that thickened air, paired with deep laughter from rowdy men trying to ignore the sickening sense of dread they all pretend not to feel. Your attention however, is divided. Humming softly to the tune you can only half remember, your focus stays fixed on him—Bucky Barnes, gazing from afar at his wide, mirthful grin, those blue eyes of his reflecting the low lighting of the bar as he sips at yet another beer.
You watch as Steve walks over to rejoin them, more drinks in his hands which he passes to the surrounding men with a nod, which they each take from him, too distracted with their chatter to thank him. Bucky chuckles, shifting back from the group to say something to Steve, a sly grin gracing his lips, smirking as Steve laughs softly at his joke, sadly too far away for you to be in on it.
You get lost in the sight of the men you've known far longer than you haven't, and have seen sink into themselves more and more in recent years, weathered by war, and yet, beneath the surface, your heart can still manage to find a lesser problem to dwell on—feelings you never even asked for becoming even more known to you the more you watch them, both so pretty. They’d always been pretty.
"Come here often?"
You sigh at the unexpected voice, an instinctual reaction at this point, and regretfully you looked away from the two men, staring down at your glass for a moment before you tilted your head to the left and eyed her with fake annoyance, staring deadpan at the mischievous smirk playing on her red lips. You both know she caught you staring.
You look down at your drink again, watching the amber liquid swirl in the glass as you lift it to take another sip and wince, "No, should I?"
Her smirk grows wider, resting her elbow on the sticky bar top. She shrugs, "Depends what you're here for."
You pause for a few seconds, squinting at her as if flicking through the possible reasons to be in this dingy bar, other than an easy escape from the war outside. "Alcohol?" You ask, raising a brow. The only reason you were in this bar would be for Bucky and Steve.
"Ah, well in that case, no. The beer here is watered-down and overpriced." She quips, clinking her glass with yours before taking the seat beside you.
"Oh, that explains it." You respond, sighing dramatically as you take a swig from your glass. Peggy hums softly, her fingertips drifting over the lip of her glass. You can feel her eyes on you, as usual, watching, assessing the situation, and you take a risky glance at her, slightly apprehensive, not looking forward to the way she's going to read you like a goddamn book. "What?"
"Why are you over here, all by yourself?" She asks, her head tilted with curiosity.
You take pause at her question, setting your drink back down with a sigh, gaze drifting back over to the group of men talking loudly with warm grins on their faces, all the happiest you'd seen them in weeks if not months... actually years.
"I don't know, I just needed some time alone I guess." You shrug, which immediately earns you a disbelieving scoff.
"Bullshit, the one thing no sergeant would want at a time like this is to be alone. It's a tough job, we all survive on these rare few moments when we get to feel some resemblance of normal. Now tell me why you're sitting here alone."
You don't respond for a long moment, eyes flicking over to your childhood best friends again, as they often do when you find yourself in any room with them. "I'm just in my head. I can't stop thinking about what could happen... and what will. I just- I wish I could go back just for a moment, just to remember what it was like before everything went to shit. I'm sick of thinking the worst every time it falls quiet."
She listens quietly, then nods, her hand moving to your arm to give a reassuring squeeze, "I think we all understand that feeling."
You nod too, chewing nervously on your lower lip, feeling that sinking feeling like you've ruined the small moment of fun you’d been granted by taking notice of those anxious thoughts. Bucky's hand rests on Steve's shoulder as he talks into his ear, his lips curling up as he laughs through his own words, Steve blushing beside him, shaking his head and looking down at the floor.
"I'd give anything to go back." You whisper, eyes glued to them, thinking about the times Bucky would drag both you and Steve out dancing with him, and Steve would always step on your feet, and then apologise with pink cheeks each time as you reassured him you lost sensation in them two songs ago.
"I'm guessing you're talking about your boys." Responds Peggy and you nod before your eyebrows furrow, turning to her quickly with a confused frown on your face.
"My boys?" You repeat, ignoring how the notion of it makes you feel, because it just sounds completely ridiculous - and yes, they are your boys.
"Yes. I mean, they are your closest friends, aren't they?" She laughs, and you give your sad attempt at a normal laugh back to her.
"Yeah, of course. We've been best friends since we were kids." You say back, cringing at your awkwardness and sipping on your drink to try hide it.
It falls silent for a moment, which was a nice respite to the conversation that was making you anxious enough. Peggy obviously breaks it again. "You miss them."
It wasn't a question, so you don’t answer, just stare down silently at your glass, swallowing the lump in your throat, that anxiety just getting worse, weighing you down onto your seat. You nod because it's true. With how hectic and scary the past few years have been, all three of you have changed in some way, and you've not had time to get to know those differences. You'd barely spoken to them about anything other than mission plans in weeks, everyone just more than eager to win this war and get home.
"Go talk to them, I'm sure they miss you too." Peggy offers softly, patting your shoulder again before giving you a smile. She slips off her chair, finally leaving you with your thoughts, walking across the bar to sit with the howling commandos with a half-empty drink in her hand, saluting the very boys you were just talking about, and you fight to ignore the stupid jealousy you feel when they both return the gesture to the gorgeous woman.
You’re in way over your head.
You’d hate to admit it, but she’s right, you miss them, very, very much. Things haven't been the same since the war started, and you know it'd be naive to think it will ever go back to how it was. You feel that breath-stealing sadness whenever you look at Steve, a feeling you know is mutual for Bucky too. You still don't always recognise him when he's facing away from you, searching in a crowd for a small, delicate Steve that no longer exists, before you remember the beast of a man he'd become and feel a different kind of warm flutter when you see him.
Bucky is different too, quieter, rougher around the edges, darker. You miss that boyish charm of his, the easygoing, easy-loving James Barnes everyone knew. He always wore his heart on his sleeve, but he guards it now, keeps it locked away for safekeeping. He barely spoke for weeks after Steve got him out of that place, barely ate. You haven’t seen him cry in months either, which is somehow much more worrying than if he were to break down into tears each night like a lot of the boys do in secret.
It hurts when you think back to before, a time when the three of you were so close you spent most nights sleeping at each other's houses, a time when your biggest worry was that the neighbours were gossiping about your 'morals', despite how many times Bucky reminded you that the old lady next door's opinion shouldn't matter to you.
But it did. Sometimes even you worried about your 'morals', a socially-expected guilt clouding the thoughts you'd have about them, both of them. It's always been more. A part of you always knew there was a deeper understanding the three of you had for each other, like how soulmates would be described in the romance books you had read, only it couldn't be so easy that you were in love with one of your best friends, it had to be both.
A person sits beside you again, and you roll your eyes with a small smile, turning towards them and expecting it to be Peggy back to drag you over to everybody else, but you quickly drop the expression at the sight of a man you had never seen before, smiling at you as if you'd invited him to sit there.
"Come here often?" The man asks, not sounding the slightest bit ironic, as amusing as that is for you. You hide your laugh behind your almost empty glass, which doesn’t help you one bit seeing as the glass is clear. You resort to biting your cheek when he just stares back expectantly, apparently waiting for you to swoon and faint into his arms.
You shake your head, reminding yourself to definitely not come here often. "No, sorry." You respond, mentally scolding yourself for apologising for no reason, and then scolding yourself for scolding yourself. Can he just fuck off maybe?
"That's okay. Pretty dame like you in a bar like this, you here with anyone?" He sounds like Bucky, you think to yourself, only its not charming one bit when this stranger calls your a ‘dame’. He moves closer to you, his arm almost touching yours, which was immediately enough for you to shift away, feeling uncomfortable and annoyed that he was in your space. You scoff, deciding you've seen far too much to give a shit about upsetting some creepy guy in a bar. You open your mouth to shut him down.
"Yeah, she's with us."
For fucks sake why can't I do the fun part?
You already know it’s Steve's voice, strong with that Brooklyn accent, even stronger with the distaste in his voice. You don’t turn to look at him, still trying to keep the distance between you and the guy who’s staring wide-eyed up at Captain America.
"Maybe go and bother someone else." Bucky adds, moving in behind the guy, his tone much less polite than the Captain's.
The man doesn’t say a word, much to your amusement, just puts his head down and stands, walking away, probably going to find some other poor woman to bother, or nurse a stronger drink and lick his wounds.
They sit either side of you, Bucky's hand moving to your back. "You alright, doll?"
You sigh and nod, rubbing your forehead and smiling softly at him "I'm fine, Buck. You know I could've easily scared him away."
Bucky nods, smirking softly. He's seen you shut down many a guy before the war,
"I know, just making sure."
It falls silent for a moment, Bucky doesn't break eye contact with you and you can't bring yourself to do it for him, his gaze soft and inviting, almost as distracting as the way he wets his lower lip the way he often does.
"Why are you sittin' over here?" Steve asks, and it finally draws you to look away from Bucky, clearing your throat before turning to Steve on your left.
"Just lost in thought I guess." You respond with a shrug, deciding not to disclose the fact that you were lost in thought about them, as per usual.
Steves cheeks remain a little pink and you don’t get why, wondering if he had noticed the weird staring going on between you and Bucky, which only makes you blush just the same in embarrassment.
"Thinking 'bout what, doll?" Bucky presses, his warm breath brushing against your shoulder. You don't let yourself look at him again, staring straight ahead as your stomach flutters with nerves and something else you don't want to think about yet.
You shrug, breathless as Steve inches slightly closer to you too, as if he and Bucky had some nefarious plan to make you want them impossibly more, his shoulder pressing against yours.
"I don't know. Just lost in thought about... how bad the beer is." You say, sheepish at your stupid response, but Steve laughs sweetly, which only makes you smile.
Bucky only hums in response though and you look over at him again, that enticing look in his eyes, "How about we get out of here? Just us three, we can swing it like old times, got a fairly decent bottle of whiskey in my room that's waiting to be drank."
You inhale softly in surprise and excitement. It certainly wouldn't be the first time the three of you had gotten drunk together alone, but it's been a while, and for some reason, it seemed like something different now, something new.
You glance over at Steve to see him waiting for your response, seemingly already aware of Bucky's idea, so you nod, not trusting yourself to speak and not look stupid.
You all leave the bar together after gathering your things, purposefully ignoring the smirk Peggy gives you as you walk past, just wanting to get out of the stuffy bar and away from the noise for a while.
It was a silent taxi ride the whole way back to the hotel you were all currently staying at, though not awkward. You sat between the two men, Bucky's thigh pressed against yours while you and Steve sit shoulder to shoulder.
You'd always thought that taxis were fairly spacious until you had to share one with a super-soldier and James Buchanan Barnes.
Steve pays the taxi driver with the best tip he can afford and soon enough you were all piling into Bucky's room.
You sigh when you walk through the door, not giving a second to hesitate to go to the bed, falling forward with another sigh as you stretch out across the mattress, kicking off your uncomfortable shoes and letting them hit the floor with a soft thud. It wasn’t often you had access to an actual bed.
You can hear Bucky and Steve laughing as they take off their jackets, which you didn't have the nerve to watch them do.
"Comfy?" Steve asks, walking over to the small radio on the bedside table and switching through the channels till he found some decent music to have on quietly in the background.
You nod, humming softly and closing your eyes, "You try wearing heels for a whole night only 3 days after getting off the field."
Bucky sits beside you on the bed, looking down at you as you hesitantly peek your eyes open to look at him.
"Can't imagine the pain, doll. Want a foot rub?" He teases, a lopsided smirk playing on lips.
You scoff in response, laughing softly and definitely not considering his most likely joking offer. Instead of putting your sore feet on his lap, you just blush and sit up, shoving at his broad shoulder. "Shut up. Where's that decent whiskey you promised, hm?"
He laughs, picking something up off the floor from beside the bed and holding up a full bottle, passing it to you as he takes a glass from the bedside table near him, holding it out for you to pour the liquid into it.
"Hey guys, I'm gonna go change, then I'll be back, okay?" Says Steve, a smile on his face as he walks back towards the door, and you and James both nod, watching the tall man duck slightly through the doorway and leave room gently shutting the door behind him.
Its comfortably quiet in the hotel room, though the atmosphere slightly different. You sip at the strong-tasting, barely decent whiskey, the liquid burning its way down your throat to settle in your stomach, warm and familiar.
Your gaze again drifts to him, watching over the rim of your glass as Bucky moves to sit against the bed frame after pouring his own drink, shoes kicked to the floor, watching you right back, his head resting against the dark wooden frame, a soft look on his handsome face. A strand of his dark hair falls onto his forehead, and you follow it like an arrow pointing down to the white shirt he's wearing, the top few buttons undone as some sick way to punish you even further.
"You're always so sweet on him." He murmurs quietly, breaking the silence. He doesn’t sound one bit jealous, only fond, his head tilted slightly, his tongue casually dragging across his lower lip.
"Aren't we both?" You tilt your head at him as you ask the question. It feels serious, despite the sweetness of his smile, theres something more hidden in the words, but neither of you are ready to say something like that out loud, the denial comfortable for a moment longer.
He goes quiet again, chewing on his lip as he stares down at the bed sheets, sighing softly. "I guess it's hard not to be. I know he's all tall and macho now," He pauses to huff a laugh, you watching and listening quietly and intently, him looking up to the ceiling as he continues, the smile fading to something softer, "But he's still Stevie."
A hint of a smile pulls at your lips, and you nod, holding your drink up to not spill anything as you shuffle over on your knees to sit beside him against the headboard, huffing softly at the movement, then propping up pillows behind you to be more comfortable as Bucky watches with an amused smile.
"And you're still Buck." You add once you’re settled, looking at his gorgeous face, your chin tilted upwards, and his down. He swallows softly, and you notice the movement of it, his adams apple moving in a distracting way that you swear makes you feel thirsty, so you take another sip of your drink, hoping it will settle the feeling it obviously wont.
"You sure about that?" He asks, his eyes flicking down, watching the whiskey swirl in his glass, lips set in something closer to a frown now. You know he's hurting, even if he hasn't felt ready to confide in you about it yet.
"Very." He looks at you when you say it, and you hold his gaze this time, his stare so intense, eyes so blue, lips so pink.
It takes your dumb, denial-stuck mind a moment longer to realise that you were looking down at his lips and that he was looking at yours at the same time, and there was no actual effort to either of you leaning closer, just a magnetism and a feeling spreading through your chest and butterfly filled stomach that you don’t even question it, don’t think once about the consequences, and technically its Bucky that ends up closing the tiny gap you’d made for him to do so, putting his glass down at the bedside table closest to him as his soft, warm lips make contact, eyes drifting closed,his hand then reaching across you and taking your glass too placing it down.
With his hands free, they move to cup your face, lips moving against yours, the kiss soft and sweet as your fingers drift up to the nape of his neck, his right hand reaching down for your thigh, grabbing flesh and trying to pull you closer as your lips move faster, a realisation that this kiss can’t last forever and you both swear you need it to.
It shifts from sweet and soft, to passionate and fast-moving, an almost desperate feeling urging you to press closer, your lips coaxing Bucky's to open as his hands grip your skin, your hips, waist, thighs. You just want to taste him, just like you'd always dreamed of doing. It barely feels real, but you barely think about it when you slide your tongue against his lips and earn yourself a soft, heated groan in response.
The booze doesn’t matter, you were drunk on him, butterflies in your stomach, heart hammering in your chest, an ache forming between your legs.
You'd never experienced a kiss like this before, never this intense desperation, so needy for more, clutching at eachother and shifting on the bed, breathing against his cheek.
Time is far lost to you both, only warm skin and hot mouths and soft lips, but the noise at the door breaks through the goodness of the moment, and you and Bucky quickly pull away from each other, panting for air as your heart hammers in your chest. Steve stands at the door wide-eyed.
Bucky licks his lips wordlessly as he tries to calm himself down, sighing and pushing his hair back, looking down at the bedsheets.
"Steve?" You ask when he doesn’t say anything, anxiety clouding the heated memory replaying of the kiss, as you wait for any reaction from Steve.
Steve couldn’t look more shocked, unable to look either of you in the eye, standing sheepishly at the door as he flushes pink.
"Sorry." He mutters, reaching for the door handle and making his turn to leave, and your heart lurches, sitting up to stop him, but Bucky speaks up before you can remember what words are.
"Steve." He says softly, and the blonde pauses, looking over at Bucky and waiting to be chastised for entering the room without knocking, but Bucky only offers a small, hesitant smile, "C'mere."
Poor Steve stands frozen for a while, face only getting redder as you and Bucky stare back at him, the image of the two of you kissing, Bucky's hand squeezing your bare thigh under your dress, yours tugging on his hair, its heavy in the forefront of his mind, and it sets something off in his stomach, something he likes the feeling of.
Bucky gesturesfor him to sit on the bed with them and slowly, Steve does.
"I didn't mean to-" Steve begins, but Bucky cut him off and you watch dumbly as he handles the situation.
"It's okay." He assures, falling silent for a moment as he tries to find the words to say what he really wanted to, "We're all friends, right? It shouldn't be awkward."
It’s actually incredibly awkward, but denial was a much easier option, and so you simply avoid eye contact with either of them as you think you’re so good at doing, as you reached over Bucky for your drink again, taking a long sip of the alcohol, focusing on the burn in your throat rather than the ache between your thighs.
"Yeah," Steve responds, sounding as breathless as you feel.
"Maybe-" Bucky stops himself, and you lookover at him, waiting with bated breath for him to say 'Maybe we should just forget it ever happened' but his mind goes elsewhere, "Maybe you two should kiss. You know... make it even."
The tension in the room couldn’t be any thicker, and so completely silent, not a breath between you. You chance a risky glance at Steve and he stares straight at Bucky, mouth agape, eyes wide.
You feel like you need to say something, feel like you’re fighting between your mind, your heart, and your… The nerve builds up quick and words rush out of your mouth, just needing to escape this awkwardness, "Bucky, I don't think Steve would-"
"C'mon, I'm not blind, I see the way you two look at each other. You're telling me neither of you is at least a tiny bit curious what it would be like?" Bucky cuts you off, looking between you and Steve with a raised brow, "Don't feel forced to do anything, of course. Just... I don't know... Think about it?"
Oh, you’re thinking about it, you have been thinking about it, for years, in fact you’re imagining it in way too much detail, but acting on it like this, rather than a random, heated frenzy like with Bucky, is much more nerve-wracking.
Its when you risk a glance at Steve that the doubts starts to slip away slightly. its so painstakingly obvious, the blush on his face, the way he can’t look you in the eye and he seemed just as deep in thought as you. You remind yourself who you're with, though much taller now, he’s still Stevie. Your teeth catch your lip, nerves fading enough that you feel less awkward and more anticipating. It already feels like it's the end of the world anyway, actions tend to feel much less consequential.
"I don't know, Steve..." You start, watching with rising butterflies as he looks over at you, his lips parted, "Maybe he's right."
James grins like you’ve joined the dark side, smirking down at his glass, just listening to you shift into a second devil on Stevie’s shoulder.
"P-pardon?" He almost whispers, and you smile softly, still polite Stevie.
"Maybe we should kiss." You manoeuvre onto your knees, and James wordlessly takes your drink again, placing it back down and inhaling softly, leaning back against the bed frame again and just watching quietly. Steve breathes in, watching you move closer. "Only if you want to, of course." You add for good measure, and Steve gulps, lips parting as he looks over at Bucky, as if for reassurance, Bucky just stares back. You crawl over, settling in front of him, "Do you want to?"
He takes another moment, before softly, he nods, taking a deep breath.
You look into his eyes, scooting close enough for your thigh to touch his, and you reach for his broad shoulders, biting your lip softly. You can’t quite wrap your head around the idea of kissing either of them ever, especially not both... in front of each other in the time span of five minutes... but there’s no room for regret, just you and your boys...
Your hand glides over to his face, holding his jaw softly as you tilt his head down to you, pressing your lips against his.
This kiss was softer, slower. You knew Steve had kissed before, you were the one who heartbreakingly caught him with not one, but two USO girls, but hes certainly not as experienced as Bucky, nervous and shy, so you stay as gentle as possible, not pushing him to go any further than the gentle touch of your lips until he presses for more, tentative, but he follows your lead, his right hand hovering over your waist before he pulls it away, and you kiss him once more before breaking the contact. You can tell how nervous he still is.
The room is still as you and Steve pull away from each other, Steve's focus stuck on you as you sit back slightly, looking over at Bucky, as your lips tingle from the kiss, curious to see his reaction, and the sight of him makes your stomach flip.
He sits rested back against the headboard again, legs splayed out in front of him as he watches the two of you with a clearly lustful gaze, his lower lip caught between his teeth, this dark desperation in his eyes, and its like you can read the dirty thoughts clouding his mind.
You don’t think at all when the words left your mouth, but they do, "Your turn."
Buckys lips part, eyes widening slightly and Steve takes an audible breath from beside you.
"What?" The blonde gulps.
You swallow your nerves again, Bucky was right, he could see the way you and Steve look at each other, because you've always looked at each other that way, just like you and Bucky look at each other, just like Bucky and Steve.
It's something that none of you had ever addressed until now, something you'd never let yourselves act upon, but who cares what people think at this point, who cares where this could lead you. If the war has given anything but trauma to you, it's shown you how fucking fragile life is, how much you'd regret it if you never acted upon these feelings, how much they'd regret it.
"You two should make it even, right?"
Steve stares at you, not letting his gaze drift to Bucky, but Bucky stares right at him, something intense in his eyes, something between realisation and surrender, and its clear that he’s waiting for Steve to reject it, to reject him, to wrinkle his nose at the disgusting notion of a man kissing another man, just as everybody else would do, but Bucky knows that wasn't a fair assumption to make about the golden-hearted man he knows their Stevie to be. He still waits though, preparing himself to have to have to take the rejection.
"I-" Steve starts, the very same worries as Bucky filling his head.
"Steve, aren't you at least a tiny bit curious?" You ask gently, using Bucky's previous words in hopes of lightening the mood slightly, which seems to work when Steve huffs a small laugh, though he gives no response.
You look at Bucky, seeing the heartbreaking disappointment and acceptance in his eyes. You nudge his foot, giving him a soft smile of encouragement when he looks up at you.
He gives you a small smile back, before looking over at Steve, wetting his lips.
"Stevie." He almost whispers his name, and his gaze is soft when it meets Steve’s, "Come here."
Steve decides not to give himself the chance to hesitate, moving towards Bucky before he can think about what he’s doing, and Bucky leans forward to meet him halfway, his palm sliding across his cheek, thumb smoothing along the skin before he closes the space and Bucky and Steve are kissing right in front of you.
Its gentle for a few seconds, hesitant on both parts before Steve’s reaching out, hands clutching the material of Bucky's shirt, pulling him forward, pulling him closer.
Their kiss was rougher, all tongue and teeth and the sight was a lot to try to handle, all you could really do was squeeze your thighs together and enjoy the sight of your two favourite boys, enjoying how eachother kiss.
Bucky detaches his mouth from Steve's to meet your eye, pulling you closer as his hand holds the side of your neck.
He kisses you, open-mouthed and needy as his tongue glides across your lip, steve groaning softly at the sight, his hand once again hovering over the curve of your waist.
"It's okay, Steve." You murmur against Bucky's lips before you pull back to look at Steve, gripping his hand with your own and guiding him to touch you where he had wanted to, "You can touch me. You can touch me anywhere you'd like. Both of you."
"Fuckin’ Christ, doll." Bucky sighs, lips mouthing across your jaw, his head dipping lower to kiss your neck, "You want that huh? Want both of us to touch you?"
You nod as you kiss Steve, Bucky giving you a hickey just below your ear like a goddamn teenager. Bucky makes his way to Steve's neck then, curious to what noises he could pull from Captain America himself, and he chuckles against Steve's neck when he sighs softly into your mouth, as sensitive and worked up as Bucky had always wondered he'd be.
When Bucky and Steve start kissing again, you take the opportunity to catch your breath, sitting back for a moment to watch the way Bucky pushes Steve down against the mattress, everything escalating so quick and yet feeling exactly like the way it should be. He adjusts his hips over Steve, pressing against him, and Steve groans softly, his rising up to meet bucky’s.
You bite your lip at the sight, your hand almost subconsciously sliding between your thighs, applying slight pressure against your underwear as your thighs squeeze together again.
It just feels so right, and your body is reacting like it never has before, all reservations out of the window when you fingers press against your clit ever so slightly, breath catching when Bucky starts talking.
"Y'see that Stevie? Look how desperate our girl is for us. She just has to touch herself, doesn't she? Think we should help her out?" He murmurs, speaking the words into Steve's ear, though saying them loud enough for you to hear them too, and Steve nods quickly, no more hesitation, panting for breath, lips a pretty shade of kissed.
Our girl.
"God, yes." Steve answers.
Their attention turns to you, Bucky with that mischievous, knowing glint in his eye, "Why don't you help her out of that dress, Stevie."
Steve nods, following orders like this was a part of his training, moving closer towards you, more confident though a bit sheepish.
"Go on, honey." You say to him, kissing his jaw as his fingers brush against the zipper at the back of the dress. He somehow manages to unzip you as slow as physically possible, fingers dusting along your back in a way that brings on a shiver. He finally pulls the dress off over your head and Bucky gives a low whistle at the sight of you, their pretty lady just in her undergarments.
Your head tilts back when Bucky leans towards you and kisses your collarbone, the kisses trailing lower and lower until he was kissing across the tops of your breasts. You sigh at the sensation, loving the attention on you but it doesn’t seem vert fair you’re in your bra and panties only and these two were fully dressed. You tug at both Steve and Bucky's shirts until they get the hint and both start pulling them off, Steve's going over his head while you help Bucky undo the buttons on his.
From then on the clothes seem to keep coming, and you chuckle softly as Steve helps Bucky unbuckle his belt and pull his pants off. It doesn't take long before they're both left in only their underwear, and neither you nor Bucky give Steve the chance to blush or second guess anything when you lean towards him, kissing his shoulder and Bucky kissing his lips.
You'd think it would be overwhelming, but god it just feels so right.
You hum as fingers drift across you back to the clasp of your bra, Bucky looking at you, waiting for your permission, which you quickly give, nodding your head breathlessly before he quickly undoes the clasp, helping you out of the straps and then finally pulling the bra away.
"Fu-" Steve stops himself, staring down at your uncovered breasts, your peaked nipples, soft pretty skin, waiting desperately to be touched and he forces himself to close his eyes, convinced for a second that that was it, he was going to come right here and now in his briefs. Bucky chuckles, that cheeky grin on his face as he dips his head and kisses his way across your now bare chest, cupping your left breast gently and mouthing over your nipple, smirking as your fingers thread through his hair, swirling his tongue.
"I think we're corrupting our sweet little Stevie, love," Bucky murmurs, and you hum back at him, looking over at the blonde who sits in amusing deep concentration, trying desperately hard not to lose himself.
"I don't know, Buck. I reckon Stevie's much less innocent than you think. Plus, he's not so little anymore..." You tease, knowing he’s listening, so you reach over, your palm against Steve's thigh, "Why don't you show us, honey? Get out of that head of yours, and come play with me and Buck."
Even Bucky groans at that, pressing his face into the crook of your neck as he continues to kiss you with a bit more hunger now.
Steve looks wrecked already, opening his eyes to look down at the two of you, skin against skin, waiting for him to come back to you.
"Why don't you tell us what you want, Steve?" You ask him, moaning softly when Bucky rubs his thumb over one of your nipples.
"I want.." He licks his lips, looking down your body, eyes lingering on the one place you’re still covered, "I want to touch you."
"Then touch me, Stevie." You respond and his hand drifts slowly to your thigh, Bucky still busy paying attention to your chest.
Steve's fingertips brush against the edge of your underwear, looking up at you for reassurance, "Even here?"
You sigh when Bucky grazes his teeth across your skin, tugging on his hair, "Especially there."
"Go on, Steve, I think she's still a bit overdressed," Bucky adds, encouraging him to strip you of your final layer, and Steve does so, feeling his cock throb as your bare pussy comes into view.
You part your legs for him, your inner thighs already showing how wet you are, waiting patiently for someone to finally touch you where you needed most, and when Steve brushes his fingers through your folds, tentatively exploring, nudging against your swollen clit as he did so, you moan openly.
Bucky leans back, looking down at you laid out across the mattress, completely bare beneath them as you lift your hips to meet Steve's hand, needing more pressure. Bucky reaches down for Steve's hand, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth as he assists him.
"Touch her right here with more pressure. Make small circles." Bucky directs, and Steve gladly follows the instructions given, watching as you get more and more breathless as he touches you, his fingers getting covered in your slick as you whimper softly, "Just like that, Steve."
Steve bites his lip at Bucky praising him like that, his cock throbbing so hard in his briefs as he focuses on trying to make you feel good, before Bucky takes a hold of Steve's fingers, guiding them lower and lower until they were sliding into you. You gasp softly, head tilting back at the slight relief of no longer being empty, but you’re still no way near full, needing more and more, still, you enjoy this, shifting your hips as Bucky instructs Steve to curl his fingers.
A pretty sounding moan slips from your open mouth when Bucky really starts participating, leaning on one arm as the other hand moves down to you, his thumb almost softly rubbing over your clit, watching in gentle awe and focus as him and Steve’s hands take good care of you, Steve's two fingers fucking into you as Bucky builds a steady rhythm on your clit. It doesn’t take long of the repeated pattern before your hips roll forward unknowingly, getting closer and closer to coming, the heat in your body rising, every nerve tingling... so close.
"James, I'm-- Fuck, Stevie." You moan, enjoying having two names to beg to, feeling your body tighten up as they both continue until you’re over the edge, coming on your best friend's fingers, your body vibrating as they ease you through the strong orgasm, Bucky not stopping until you reach down and gently move his hand away, bordering on overstimulation as your body becomes overly sensitive.
"Holy fuck." Steve murmurs, and Bucky laughs at him, nudging his arm.
"Language." He teases.
"Shut up, punk." Replies Steve, pushing Bucky’s shoulder back. You lay there catching your breath, humming with a gentle smirk as you watch them act so casual after both giving you the best orgasm of your life, so far.
"God, just make out already." You joke, grinning at the two, your body relaxed, and Bucky gives you a look as you sit up.
"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you." He nips at your shoulder, and you roll your eyes playfully, enjoying seeing him like this again, the happiest and most like himself you'd seen him in weeks, "Good, thing I'd like that too. Steve?"
Steve looks over at Bucky, nodding and moving closer to him, kissing softly.
You give yourself a moment to gather yourself, catching your breath, relaxing in the afterglow of the first orgasm you’ve had in a while, admiring them for a short while, and then eventually joining them, kissing across Bucky's shoulder, raking your nails through Steve's hair.
"Think Stevie's ever had someone's mouth on him before?" You murmur into Bucky's ear, feeling pride in the sigh he gives in response, pulling away from Steve's mouth, humming against your skin as he leans into you, head laid back against your shoulder, nose tucked against your neck.
Steve just couldn’t stop staring, his erection straining against his underwear, both of you watching him with those eyes. None of it feels quite real, like it’s all too good to be true, yet so much better than he imagined. He groans softly when Bucky moves his hand down, watching him as he presses his palm against his cock over the fabric.
"How 'bout it, Stevie? Think you could handle someone's mouth on your cock?" God, the words are so obscene, yet so natural as they fall from Bucky’s lips, Steve all but whimpers when the both of you start kissing on his neck, "Ever done that before, Steve?"
He shakes his head, hands reaching to touch both of them in any way he can, "God, please."
"Not God, angel." Bucky starts, the pet name rolling off his lips, smooth as butter, sweet as honey, "Just us."
His briefs were off, his cock springing up when it was finally released from the far too tight confines of his underwear. Bucky leans forward, kissing Steve as he guides him to lay back on the mattress, hovering over him.
The sight couldn’t be more mouth-watering, his cock a deep shade of pink as he leaks pre-cum onto his stomach, so desperate, kissing Bucky back like his life depended on it.
His stomach tightens when you start kissing your way down his chest until you finally reached the tip of his cock, wrapping a hand around the base, kissing the tip, hearing Steve moan into Bucky’s mouth.
You lick along the underside of his shaft, swirling your tongue over the head and liking the salty taste it left you with. Steve’s an utter mess, bucking his hips and squirming beneath you and Bucky when you finally put your mouth around him, no longer having the focus to continue kissing Bucky, instead just letting his head fall back against the pillows, breath laboured and heavy as you start to suck.
"C'mon, sweetheart. You can go deeper than that." Bucky purrs, tilting his head as you look up at him through your lashes, and you pull off of Steve, using your hand to make lazy strokes up and down his cock, shaking your head at the brunette.
"He's so big, Bucky," You bite your lip, and Steve whimpers softly at your compliment, watching as you fake a look of innocence, giving Bucky those doe eyes as you brush your thumb across the tip of Steve's cock. "D'you wanna taste him, Buck?"
Bucky already knows the answer to that, his cock was throbbing at the sight of you and Steve alone, but he glances up to Steve, meeting his distracted gaze and waiting for some sort of permission, which was given almost immediately, Steve frantically nodding his head.
Bucky smirks, winking at you as he adjusts himself on the bed, moving beside you, giving your lips a chaste kiss before lowering his head, your hand still holding his cock for Bucky to enjoy, his tongue circling the head just as you were doing only seconds ago, as you continue to stroke Steve's remaining length while Bucky starts to take him deeper into his mouth.
Steve couldn't hold back on the sounds he’s making, he's never been so vocal, never been so sensitive to touch, but he can’t help himself, Bucky's mouth felt so warm, so wet, and when he opens his blue eyes to look down at the two of you, he know he wont last much longer.
You bend your head down when Bucky comes up for air, tracing your tongue against Steve's cock as you meet Bucky's eye holding his heart-stopping gaze as Bucky started doing the same, both of your mouths on him at the same time.
It’s filthy, an act of sin no doubt you'll never come back from, but you wouldn’t want to anyway, humming when Steve starts panting, his abs constricting, you wrap your lips around the tip, pumping his cock with your hand until his cum filled your mouth, hearing the deep groan that reverberated through his chest as he came.
You swallow as you pulled away and a hand finds its way to your neck, Bucky pulling you closer. “No fair, you’re supposed to share, sweet girl.” He chastises softly, almost pouting, before he closes the gap to capture your lips with his own, his tongue sliding into your mouth. He moans softly at the taste of Steve's cum on your tongue, the pretty sound so perfect on your ears, only reminding you that Bucky was yet to be touched, focusing on yours and Steve's pleasure instead of his own. How very like him.
You rest your hand on his stomach as you kiss him back, gliding your fingers lower and lower until you reach the waistband of the underwear that he was still somehow wearing. You ping the elastic against his skin, smiling into the kiss when he only leaned closer.
He shudders as your hand finally slides past the band, wrapping around his cock and pulling him out. Neither of you made any move to remove his underwear, you both knew he was far too gone, too desperate to wait any longer, so you squeeze the base of his cock, pulling away from the kiss only to look at him.
Hair mussed, light eyes the darkest you'd ever seen them, as he watches every little move you make for him, his lips red and swollen, cheeks flushed pink. He finally looks as wrecked as Steve, who was still getting over the fact that he just came in his best friend's mouth.
You move your hand slowly at first, stomach fluttering with every strangled moan that caught in Bucky's throat, "You're all talk, ain't you Buck?"
"Fuck, doll- please- I need to come." He groans, eyes fluttering shut when you kiss his neck, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, arm wrapping around your waist.
"You look as desperate as our Stevie right now, James." You tease, but still speed up your hand for him, swirling your thumb across the slit to hear his breath hitch in his throat.
Bucky looks over at Steve then, giving a light-hearted scoff at the sight of him rock hard again, stroking slowly at his cock as he enjoys the show in front of him.
"Fuckin' super soldier." Bucky laughs, laying his cheek on your shoulder, groaning softly as his eyes flutter closed.
You can tell how close he is, moving his head to tuck right into the crook of your neck, talking himself away like he tends to do, "Fuck, feels so good, sweetheart. 'M so close- Never felt this good before, doll."
You were used to his nicknames by now, years of him calling you 'doll' more than he used your actual name usually had you rolling your eyes, but now, like this, it makes your stomach flutter.
It wasn't much longer till he was coming onto both of your stomachs, hot spurts painting your skin as Bucky's hips twitched forward with every second he comes, groaning as you continue to stroke him.
Steve follows yet again not long after, and a glance over to him laid against the headboard with his abdomen covered in his own spend has you blushing, never mind the fact that he'd just had his fingers inside you, and his cock in your mouth.
Bucky quickly cleans up your stomach with his discarded shirt, along with his own before he tosses it to Steve with a chuckle.
You’re all glowing, surprised by the complete lack of awkwardness despite all the things that had just happened in Bucky's hotel room. Instead, you all huddle together on the bed, your head laid on Steve's shoulder as Bucky rested his on your stomach, your fingers naturally finding themselves threading through his hair.
"Well, that was fucking amazing," Bucky murmurs, a content smile on his face as he looks over at you and Steve, his arms around your waist.
"Yeah, it was." Steve agrees, moving one of his hands through Bucky's hair too, before draping his arm above your head.
You go quiet for a moment, the afterglow not quite enough to keep the anxiety at bay anymore, "I just wish we'd done this earlier."
They know what you mean, they know what you’re insinuating, and the room falls silent. None of you could deny the dangers, the uncertainty ahead of you, but that didn't mean you couldn't enjoy the time you had up until that moment you’d all have to risk everything again.
"We can't think like that, baby," Bucky speaks first, his voice soft, gentle and yet serious, "I know it's hard not to, but we can't focus on the regrets. If anything, we just need to live the best we can with what we've got... and if I've got you two, I don't need anything else."
You nod, pressing your face into Bucky’s hair, although you can’t see Steve's face, you know that he agrees, his fingers brushing against your arm affectionately.
"Bucky's right. Let's just enjoy this, lord knows we've all been pining for each other for years."
You chuckle softly, having needed this soft moment for a long while, feeling warm and loved between them, hoping they feel it too.
#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#sebastian stan#bucky#steve and bucky#40s bucky#bucky barnes drabble#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes headcanon#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes imagines#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky barnes x yn#bucky barnes/reader#bucky barns x reader#bucky fic#bucky fanfic#bucky fluff#bucky imagine#bucky smut#bucky x female reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Crowns // Kate Daniels
for Philip Levine
Around the time I first read the poetry of Philip Levine, my teeth were fixed. Two or three hundred bucks (I’ve forgotten now) purchased a brand new me, two porcelain crowns. In the dentist’s chair, my midget canines were filed down to sharp, bright points hardly larger than the bronzed end of a Bic pen, then crammed in the black-backed caps of two hardened, china fakes. No more covering my mouth to obscure the evidence of faulty genes. No more tears at images embezzled from graduation picnics when Darrell Dodson picked me up and slung me in the pool, and someone took a picture of my lips slacking back to reveal my gums in what appeared to be a scream. No more breezes winding through the gappy pickets of my ill-grown teeth and down my throat. No more worrying some boy would snag his tongue in the zigzagged bulkhead of my upper row, and bring us both to blood.
I’ll love Levine forever for confessing his own struggles with orthodontia, his rot-plagued “Depression mouth,” a dentist called it, his cavities and root canals, his occipital pain, for his photograph in Antaeus, the summer of ’78, the stained and crooked slabs parked compellingly behind his grin. Our teeth connected us before the poetry, he, from the immigrant onion-eaters and temperate tipplers of Manischiewtz. I, from a long line of tannin-stained Irish Catholics who smoked themselves to fragile states of calcium depletion, and a recent run of Carolina gritballs, too poor to brush, too ignorant to care their teeth retired in early middle age. I can see them now, perplexed before an apple’s crispy rind, frustrated by a succulent, stringy rack of pork ribs barbequed in the side lot of Earlene Worsham’s gas station south of town. Levine would have understood my uncles, enthroned on plastic-covered kitchen chairs patched with tape, their work boots kicking up mucky clouds of chiggery dirt, their pick ups parked nearby, shotguns in the rack, sucking on cheap beers and harsh cigarettes, their nails starved by nicotine to yellow curls, the car grease embedded permanently in the creases of their hands.
When I met him, he was such a mensch, massive in my mind, but in the flesh, something touching about his shoulders in the worn tweed jacket, something vulnerable in his feet in an ordinary pair of soiled, white sneakers. He opened his mouth to laugh, one side rising up like it does, in that derisive gesture that seems, at first, a sneer, and I remembered my mother flexing back her lips to remove delicately, with two stained fingers, just so, a fleck of tobacco lodged between her teeth, and saw again my father flossing at the table with the torn off cover of a paper book of matches, then stubbing out his butt in the yellowed, oily pod of broken yolk that was hemorrhaging across his breakfast plate.
I can face those images now without the shame I carried in the days before the poetry of Phil Levine liberated me. I can look at anything now, because I keep his picture in my mind and his poems in my pocket. I can stand my life because I wear the crown he constructed for people like me — grocery checkers, lube jobbers, truck drivers, waitresses — all of us crowned with the junkyard diadems of shattered windshields and rusty chains, old pots with spit tobacco congealing inside, torn screen doors and gravestones in the front yard, just five short steps from life to death…
So there is my family with their broken beer bottles and patched shoes, their mutts chained in a back yard carved from a stingy pine woods, on cheap land out near the county dump where the air swells with the perfume of trash, a circle of them playing poker in a trailer somewhere in the woods, or razoring the state decal from the windowshield of a ransacked wreck to transfer to my brother’s car. Or cleaning fish on the back porch and throwing the guts to the tick-clogged dogs, or frying venison in a cast-iron pan and stinking up the house with that heavy smell, showing the buck’s big balls in a plastic cannister that once held salt. Or burning tires in a field some autumn, scumming the sky with a smoky, cursive black they can’t even read but inhale poisonously again and again.
And there I am, walking along tolerantly now, with Phil Levine, his poems in my pocket, his good rage gathered in my heart and I can love them again, the way I did in the years before I saw what they were and how the world would use them and accepted the fact they were incapable of change. We’re in a field I used to love, a redbone coonhound running ahead her ears dragging the edges of the goldenrod till they are tipped in pollen, like twin paintbrushes dipped in gilt. And the world is hunting dogs and country music and unschooled voices bending vowels and modest kitchen gardens where late tomatoes are tied up with brownish streamers of old nylon hose. The vast way your chest expands when the sun gradually sets in mid-fall in central Virginia. The tobacco barns glimmering in last light, the chinks darkening now, the slats solidifying at the close of day and your mind opening up like the pine forest swishing fragrantly overhead way up in the dark that is coming, but remains, for the moment, beautifully at bay.
#poetry#Kate Daniels#American poetry#America#Philip Levine#redbone coonhound#Virginia#poverty#teeth#goldenrod#childhood#tobacco barns#poems of praise#crowns
0 notes
Text
Tobacco barns: Secaderos (2022).
dir. Rocío Mesa.
#Secaderos (2022)#Rocío Mesa#spanish cinema#cinematography#movies directed by women#Tobacco barns (2022)
2 notes
·
View notes