#while buck is away. at war

[lesbiandarvey]

i want a marge pov fic

[cobbbvanth]

I have a question about your tags: how would Buck being in a relationship with Tommy make Tommy one of Chris's dads? Buck is only his father through his connection with Eddie. If Tommy doesn't have that connection with Eddie he doesn't become a father to Chris.

hey, thanks for reaching out! I don't remember which post exactly that was on although it's reasonable to assume i was mostly joking, but have a little thought experiment anyway

to me it's a funny idea that chris just collects father figures because eddie is incapable of being Normal about his friends lmao. so tommy being a father figure to chris could go two ways:

in theory, if bucktommy were endgame and and buck continued his presence in christopher's life (because duh) it wouldn't be unreasonable that tommy would also develop a close relationship with him, right? we already know chris likes tommy, because buck said chris wouldn't stop talking about him in 7x04. i don't mean that tommy would automatically get any kind of custody over chris just for being buck's boyfriend, but if it's a long term dynamic it would be weird for tommy to have no relationship at all with chris

eddie and tommy had obviously spent a lot of time together in those weeks since 7x03, and eddie himself said he really enjoyed having a new friend he just clicked with. he invited tommy round to hang out with him and chris on at least one occasion, very early into their friendship. they could absolutely continue on this trajectory and have a close long-lasting friendship. it's not unusual for friends of parents to become parental figures if they're close enough!

i hope that makes sense?

[cuteniarose]

The consequences of my poor financial decisions are here!!

[riotshipping]

about to talk about my s/i for aries inthe tags because i feel insane thinking about them

[backpackingspace]

Based off of my the sassy science team+ will have to carpool posts.

Au where one time Beverly was like hey watch this, told will to get in they have a crime scene to go to, and then drove him to the hospital for treatment.

Yes the other had bet money on rather or not it could be done why do you ask

[kaitoru]

୨୧ he strictly wants you to keep your eyes on him while he eats you out.

his tongue worked with maddening precision, flicking hard against your wet cunt, the room echoed with the sharp, rhythmic slaps of his hand against your thigh, each one a reminder of his control.

his grip tightened fingers digging into your flesh as he glanced up, his piercing blue eyes locking onto your beautifully fucked out face.

he never looked away, drinking in every expression, every whimper. “look at me,” he commanded, his voice low with an edge that left no room for argument.

you tried to obey, propping yourself up on your elbows, your chest heaving as you struggled to focus through the haze of pleasure.

his tongue swirled around your clit, relentless and skilled, and you couldn’t help but whimper, your head tipping back as the sensation overwhelmed you.

“oh my gosh—” you breathed out your voice shaky, eyes fluttering closed as you pushed your head back again.

slap.

his hand came down hard on your thigh, the sting sharp enough to snap your attention back to him. “look at me, or i'll stop,” he warned, tone firm.

his lips hovered just above you, his breath hot against your skin, and you could feel the threat in his words he’d do it, too.

gojo was nothing if not unpredictable.

you whined, forcing your eyes open to meet his gaze.

“toru, you’re so mean,” you pouted, his eyes glinted with amusement, the smirk on his face widening as he leaned back in, his tongue resuming its torturous dance.

“mean?” he echoed, his voice muffled but dripping with mock offense. “baby, you love it when im mean.” he flicked his tongue against you again, and you gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily.

his hand tightened on your thigh, holding you in place. “stay still,” he murmured, his tone softening just enough to make your heart skip.

you tried to focus, your eyes locked on his, but his stare those damn blue eyes that saw right through you made it nearly impossible.

“toru, please,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as his tongue swirled faster, pushing you closer to the edge.

“it’s too much.”

“too much?” he teased, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening as he grinned.

“you’re tougher than that, aren’t you? don’t tell me you’re tapping out already.” another sharp slap landed on your thigh, and you yelped, your body trembling under his touch.

“eyes on me, sweetheart. you know the rules.” you groaned, frustration and pleasure warring within you as you forced yourself to hold his gaze.

“you’re such a jerk,” you muttered with a whiny, needy tone that you knew drove him wild.

gojo chuckled. “yeah, but you love this jerk,” he said, tongue diving back in with renewed vigor.

when you finally came down, panting and spent, gojo sat back on his heels, his lips curved in a satisfied grin.

he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving yours. “see? wasn’t so hard to listen, was it?” he teased, his voice light.

[starstruckbich]

needy Vi ⋆｡°✩

summary: you and Vi are married, and lately she's been oddly whiny and all over you...

tags: 18+ mdni, men dni. nsfw! dom!reader, down bad sub!vi, scar mentions, hard fingering, eating pussy ˗★˗

wc: 3.8k

notes: hii first time writing so sorry if this is a little sloppy lmao, this is smut with no plot and english isn't my first language so i might get some terms wrong. anyways hope you guys enjoy!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You loved Vi with all your heart.

Ever since the war been between Zaun and Piltover came to an end, you two have been living peacefully. You both had scars on your body, reminders of what you both had been through.

Lately she's been a lot clingier. Asking you for a kiss before bed, hugging your waist from behind while you're cooking and staying glued to you for ungodly amounts of time, insisting on showering together with you, nuzzling her face agaisnt your thighs and kissing them while she looks at you with those needy puppy eyes. That's her favorite.

Eventually you figured out why. During the night, you were often woken up by whimpers and needy whines, looking over at your wife to see her mumbling in her sleep, sounding like she's getting fucked out of her mind, whining your name...

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"vi, i'm trying to read." you say, tucking your hair behind your ear to look down at your wife, who's once again laying her head down on your lap and kissing your thighs.

"hmm..." she hums in a needy voice agaisnt them, wanting to bury her face between and never pull away.

"again?..." you can't help but raise an eyebrow, your wife letting out a whine, grabbing your legs tightly. of course, you love Vi and want to be close to her, but it's gotten to the point where she doesn't have her hands off of you for atleast five seconds.

For the next 30 minutes you continue trying to read, trying to change positions to lay comfortably in your king-sized bed. However, as needy as she is, Vi keeps clamming onto you, making you a sweaty mess.

Your final straw is when she huffs agaisnt your ear, trying to envelop all of your body in her arms blabbering about whatever, crushing your book's pages in the process, at the most interesting part of the plot.

"f-fuck baby, please! mh!" vi whines, head layed back on the pillows, gripping the sheets so hard they could rip.

you plunge your tongue deeper inside her, over and over again, holding her strong thighs far apart and kissing, sucking, doing whatever you can to torture that needy, wet, puffy pussy of hers.

her wetness drips down your chin slowly, making you hum in satisfaction. you decide to take some pity for her, giving some attention to her sensitive clit.

"a-ah! FUCK!" she yells, bucking her hips to feel your tongue sucking on her pussy again.

"hold still." you mumble agaisnt her pussy with a frown, holding her hips down as you continue eating her out, giving the pleasure she so desperately needs.

"please baby i'm gonna cum, c-can i come? please please please please... mmh~!" she tries to rub your her hips roughly agaisnt your tongue again, to no avail.

Unfortunately for her and her glistening pussy, you pull away, resting your face on her muscular thigh, an innocent, faint smile on your face despite what you've been doing to her. "aw baby, already?" you can't help but grin as she whines in frustration, her voice already hoarse.

you press two fingers agaisnt her pussy, mking her let out a whimpery moan, slightly entering her but then pulling out your index and middle finger again. "aw your pussy's so wet... so fucking wet baby, your mess is all over the sheets, fuck..."

"please baby, put them in... i need you..." she looks down, lolling her head to the side after.

"hm yeah? you need these fingers inside your pussy? want me to make you feel good? like those fucking wet dreams you've been having about me?"

Vi's eyes widen at your words, looking into your eyes in embarassment. "what? h-how'd you-"

Before she can finish her sentence you plunge your two digits deep inside her, ripping out a loud moan from your pretty wife. You groan in satisfaction at the sight, biting your bottom lip, pumping your fingers again and again, her juices flying everywhere as she rolls her eyes to the back of her head.

"of fuck, look at that! if i didn't know any better i'd say we're at the goddamn brothel." you tease, letting out hearty chuckles. "how about a third one hm? you're wet enough already" you, plunging your ring finger into her aswell.

"A-AH! Fuck, don't stop don't stop! yes baby! gonna come! m' gonna come!" Vi yells, squirming as your fingers are punishing her, more needy for you than ever.

A few more thrusts and she finishes on your three fingers, letting out a loud, whiny moan as she comes. You of course take the chance to suck up all of her fluids, not stopping as your tongue works between her thighs again, making her body convulse in sensitivity and pleasure.

"mm so good, you're so good for me baby..." you mumble agaisnt her, making her come again from those words alone as your eyes widen.

"damn, that bad huh?

"shut up..."

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

hiii! can i request a bucky fanfic that takes place in civil war? specifically, the scene where zemo activated the winter solider and he starts attacking the avengers. and the soldier notices reader but for some reason spares her. maybe the reader is also an avenger, and has an established relationship with bucky? thank youuuu, have a good day! <33

Sparing You » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America and the Avengers

Summary: Bucky spares you when he’s in Winter Soldier mode.

Warnings: Fluff, tiny bit of Angst, language, established relationship, boyfriend!Bucky/girlfriend!reader, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @timmytimberdrake 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

As you watched the camera footage of the room Bucky is in with Zemo, you could tell that something wasn’t right about Zemo. You didn’t need to be in the same room as him to know that.

“Something doesn’t seem right with that Zemo guy.” You say.

Steve nods as he continues to watch the footage. You stood up from your seat and walked over to Steve, standing next to him to get a better look at the screen. As you guys continued watching it, the power went out, confusing everyone. You, Steve, and Sam exchanged looks before making your way to where Bucky is. Bucky wasn’t in the metal pod or anywhere in the room when you guys got in there. Zemo wasn’t on the floor. Steve grabbed him by his jacket and slammed him against the wall.

“What the hell did you do to him?” You asked Zemo.

“You’ll find out in a moment, Miss. Y/L/N.” Zemo says, smirking evilly.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

How the hell does he know your name?

That’s when Bucky came out of nowhere and started attacking Steve and Sam. He threw Sam against the pod and shoved Steve against the elevator doors hard enough to make him fall through them. Your eyes went wide. That was enough to tell you that Bucky is in Winter Soldier mode. Bucky turned around, accidentally bumping into you. You stumbled backwards, but didn’t fall. You stared up at him, waiting for him to attack you, but he didn’t. He just stared down at you for a few seconds before walking away. Now, you’re confused.

Why didn’t he attack you like he did to Steve and Sam just seconds ago?

You followed him through the building, making sure he didn’t notice you. You hid along the wall that led to a seating area with some tables. You poked your head out to see Bucky attacking the rest of the Avengers.

“Is Barnes in there?” Tony asks from behind you.

“Yes.” You replied.

Tony got his blaster ready and aimed it at Bucky, blasting him. Your eyes went wide when he did that. You watched Bucky approach Tony with a gun.

“Uh oh.” You mumbled to yourself.

You felt like you should do something. You ran out to the seating area before Bucky could shoot Tony. You managed to get the gun out of Bucky’s strong grip. You unloaded the bullets from it and threw it as far as you could. Bucky just stared at you. You gulped, thinking he was going to attack you this time, but he didn’t. He gently moved you to the side before attacking Tony.

“Why didn’t Barnes attack you?” T’Challa asks.

“I-I don’t know.” You replied.

You didn’t let Bucky out of your sight even when after he went after T’Challa. You followed him, keeping your distance. Following him led both of you to the roof of the building. You watched Bucky get on the helicopter and started it. Steve opened the door, entering the roof. You watched Steve run towards the helicopter and grabbed onto it so Bucky couldn’t fly away. He used all of his strength to pull it down. He wanted to stop his best friend before things got worse.

———

Steve managed to get Bucky to an abandoned factory. Bucky was unconscious at the moment. You stared at Bucky while biting your nails as you thought to yourself. You were curious to know why Bucky didn’t attack you when he was in Winter Soldier mode. That’s when it hit you. You and Bucky met during your trip to Romania last Summer. You and him hung out and got to know each other. You two made it official before leaving to go back home. You guys kept yours and his relationship a secret. You hate that you kept this from your friends, especially Steve.

“Y/N, are you ok? Did he hurt?” Steve asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm? Yea, I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me.” You say.

Steve stared at you, studying your body language. He could tell that you were keeping something from him and he’s going to find out what it is.

“Cap, he’s waking up.” Sam says.

You, Steve, and Sam enter the area Bucky is in. Bucky groans as he wakes up. He furrows his eyebrows when he notices that his metal arm is wedged in some kind of machine.

“Steve…” Bucky says, his voice raspy from waking up.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asks.

“Your mom’s name is Sarah and you used to wear newspaper in your shoes.” Bucky says.

“Can’t read that in a museum.” Steve says.

“And now, we’re supposed to be cool?” Sam says.

“What did I do?” Bucky asks, looking at Sam.

“Nothing.” You say softly.

Bucky turns his attention to you, smiling when he seen you. Steve looks from Bucky to you, sensing something between the two of you.

“What’s going on between you two?” Steve asks you and Bucky.

You looked at Bucky. He nodded, letting you know it’s ok to tell Steve about yours and his relationship.

“Remember when I went on a trip to Europe last Summer?” You asked.

Steve and Sam nodded.

“Well, I went to Romania for the remainder of my trip and I met Bucky when I was there. Him and I hung out and got to know each other. We made our relationship official before I came home. Him and I kept it a secret.” You explained.

“How long have you two been together?” Steve asks.

“Almost a year.” You tell him.

“A year?! Why didn’t you tell me?!” Steve says.

“Don’t get mad at her. I’m the one who said to keep our relationship a secret.” Bucky says.

Steve sighs and puts his hands on his hips, trying to process the fact that you kept your relationship with Bucky a secret for almost a year.

“Can I ask you something?” Sam ask Bucky.

Bucky looks at Sam and nods.

“Why didn’t you attack Y/N when you were in Winter Soldier mode?” He asks curiously.

“I wanted to spare her. Even though all of the programming, I still somehow knew who she is.” Bucky says.

You smiled and walked over to Bucky, giving him a hug.

“I would’ve forgiven you even if you did attack me.” You say softly, gazing in his blue eyes.

Bucky stared in your eyes. He loves how loving you are. He also loves how you can see past his mistakes he made over the years. That’s his favorite things about you. Bucky’s right hand cups your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing against your skin. He kisses you softly and sweetly. As Steve looks at the two of you and watches the cute moment unfold in front of him, he then realizes that Bucky most likely asked you to keep yours and his relationship a secret to protect you so nothing bad happened to you.

“You guys kept your relationship a secret to protect her, didn’t you?” Steve asks.

“Yes.” Bucky answers softly.

“I didn’t mean to get mad at you guys. It would’ve been nice to know. Just don’t keep anymore secrets from us, ok?” Steve says.

You and Bucky nodded. Now, that you guys talked everything out and got it out of the way, you guys can move forward on the plan.

“I know a guy.” Sam says.

Steve nods, letting Sam know to call him.

“I’ll protect you.” You say softly to Bucky.

“You’re so sweet, doll.” Bucky smiles. “I love you.” He almost whispers, kissing your lips softly.

“I love you too, sweetie.” You whispered back.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[minswriting]

I need s1 spencer to ramble to me about rubiks cubes or something like that while I dry hump him

please i love this lol.

nsfw | mdni | spencer reid x reader | dry humping

the night had started off as normal. spencer had invited you over to his place for a small movie date where the two of you were watching some french film based in world war two. spencer had been whispering in your ear all night with translations and truth be told, it was making you hot and bothered.

it was no surprise when you suddenly kissed spencer, forgetting about the movie when you crawled into his lap to kiss him deeply. he had been shocked at first but then just allowed it to happen once his hands met your hips as he kissed you back.

you could feel his hard-on through your leggings and his trousers as you kissed him, causing you to grind your hips slowly against his bulge. spencer pulled away from the kiss to look at you as he let out a small whine from the friction.

“talk to me,” you breathed out, still moving your hips slowly against spencer’s.

“a-about what?” he asked hoarsely, staring up at you.

“anything. just-i want to hear you talk,” you licked your lips.

spencer took a deep but shaky breath, trying to think of something. but it was hard, in more ways than one, when a pretty girl was on his lap grinding against his clothed cock. he glanced around the living room, seeing a rubix cube displayed on the mantle. and so, he began to speak. “d-did you know that the rubix cube was invented in 1974 by a hungarian teacher who originally called it the magic cube?”

you paused for a moment due to the weird topic but didn’t say anything about it as you continued your movements. you leaned down to kiss spencer’s jawline as you ground your hips a bit faster, causing your breath to hitch due to the friction against your clit. “keep going,” you murmured against his skin.

the change in pace also caused spencer to moan as he held onto your hips and bucked his hips against yours. i-it was originally made for educational purposes,” he swallowed and stopped to whine when you kissed the sweet spot on his neck, still moving your hips against his clothed cock. “t-to improve problem-solving, spatial awareness, a-and-“ his voice cracked when you moved your hips harder against his. “memory.”

the whole situation was sexy. the way you moved your hips against spencer’s and the way his voice hitched every time you moved particularly hard. it hadn’t taken long until spencer completely forgot what he was saying when he began meeting your movements with his own, chasing his own release. “oh fuck,” he whined, holding your hips tightly. “i-i’m gonna cum,” he whimpered out as he tensed, holding you firmly against his cock.

you continued to move your hips, feeling your own orgasm nearing. “me too,” you whispered-moan. the pressure against your clit was so good. and with a few more movements of your hips, the two of you came with moans of one another’s names.

when you both were finished, the living room was filled with heavy breathing and the sounds of the long forgotten french film that played on the television. spencer was looking at you while you looked at him. and neither of you could contain the small giggles that escaped your lips.

“should we go to the bedroom?” spencer breathed out, smiling at you.

you smiled back, nodding your head. “yes, please.”

and it was safe to say that your date night with spencer was quite successful.

[brunchable]

Christmas Present | B. B.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x F! Reader Themes: Christmas Meet-Ugly, forced proximity, enemies-to-lovers(ish), rom-com Summary: You and Bucky are fighting over the last deluxe holiday gift set. The petty bickering escalates into a full-blown argument in front of shocked holiday shoppers, causing store security to intervene. As punishment, the frazzled guard handcuffs you together in the security office until you both "calm down." A/N : This oneshot is part of my 4K Follower christmas themed celebration. I hope you enjoy this first one! Thank you so much for reading my stories! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It was supposed to be a quick trip. Grab the deluxe toy train set, pay, and leave. That was the plan. But life had other plans, and those plans came in the shape of a six-foot something man with a smirk as sharp as the jawline above it.

You reached for the last box on the shelf—your prize, your golden ticket, the sole reason you braved the chaos of twenty-third shoppers.

"Excuse me, I believe I was here first," you said sweetly, gripping the box.

"Excuse you, sweetheart," the man countered, one metal hand already gripping the other end of the box. "I had my eye on this before you decided to swoop in like some holiday vulture."

"Holiday vulture?!" you spat, yanking the box closer to your chest. "I don’t see your name on it, Terminator."

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in just enough to make you flinch. “Name’s Bucky, not Terminator. And I’d be happy to write it on the box for you... after I take it home.”

“Not happening,” you hissed, tugging harder. The box creaked ominously under the strain.

“Let go,” he growled.

“You let go!”

By now, a crowd of amused onlookers had formed, phones out, capturing every moment like a live-action reality show. One kid shouted, “Go lady! You’ve got this!” while a woman in a reindeer sweater whispered, “This is better than The Bachelor.”

“Look, lady,” Bucky said through gritted teeth, “I don’t want to ruin Christmas for you—”

“Oh, really? That’s what this feels like!”

“But my friend’s kid specifically asked for this,” he finished, as if that were a valid excuse.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, so did my niece. And unlike you, I didn’t wait until the last minute to shop.”

“Your cart’s full of candles!” he shot back, pointing to your precariously stacked haul.

You gasped, scandalized. “They’re scented candles and they make great gifts! Not that you’d understand.”

“I understand they’re not as hard to find as this!” he said, gesturing wildly to the now-doomed train set.

The tug-of-war escalated, your battle waging in the aisle of festive chaos. The crowd grew, complete with commentary.

“Bet five bucks on the lady!”

“Ten on the guy with the arm!”

And then—CRASH. The box tore clean down the middle, spilling its contents across the floor. Tiny train cars scattered like shrapnel, and a miniature conductor figure flew into a nearby stroller, making the baby cry.

Gasps echoed through the store as you and Bucky froze, still clutching your respective halves. Somewhere in the distance, someone yelled, “SANTA WOULDN’T APPROVE!”

A whistle cut through the air. “Alright, break it up, you two!”

You turned to find a middle-aged security guard glaring at you like an exhausted babysitter. His name tag read “Carl,” and he looked about one tantrum away from quitting.

“We were just—”

“I don’t care!” Carl snapped, his moustache twitching with barely contained rage. “Both of you. Security office. Now.”

The security office smelled like stale coffee and regret. You sat handcuffed to Bucky, who, despite his protests, looked far too comfortable with the situation.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, yanking futilely on the cuffs. “We’re adults!”

“Debatable,” Carl deadpanned, sipping from his 'World’s Best Grandpa' mug. “You two are staying cuffed until you learn how to act like it.”

“I’m not a criminal!” you protested.

“Not what the footage shows,” Carl replied, spinning his chair to reveal the grainy security camera feed of you and Bucky mid-squabble. The freeze-frame of you squawking like a bird while clutching a toy train in a death grip was particularly unflattering.

“I’m offended on her behalf,” Bucky said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, shut it,” you hissed, elbowing him.

“You’re the one who tore the box!”

“You’re the one with the metal arm. That thing’s basically a wrecking ball!”

Carl slammed his mug down. 

“Enough!” He massaged his temples like a teacher on their last day before retirement. “You’re staying here until I feel confident you won’t burn the store down.”

“Burn the store down?” you repeated, aghast, throwing your hands in the air as much as the cuffs allowed.

“Trust me, I’ve seen worse,” Carl muttered, eyeing both of you like feral raccoons fighting over a sandwich. With an exhausted sigh, he locked the door behind him and muttered something about “needing a damn coffee break,” leaving you and Bucky alone in the tiny, overheated room.

The silence that followed was so oppressive it felt like the room had shrunk. Only the faint, mocking jingle of Jingle Bells played faintly from the store’s speakers as you and Bucky sat shoulder-to-shoulder, stewing.

Bucky, apparently unable to sit still, started bouncing his knee—a rapid, relentless motion that made your entire chair vibrate like a washing machine on spin cycle.

“Stop that,” you snapped, glaring at him.

“Stop what?” he asked innocently, his knee bouncing harder.

“Your leg,” you hissed. “The whole chair is shaking! Are you trying to make me seasick?”

His lips twitched, clearly enjoying your misery. “It’s a free country.”

“Not for your knee, it’s not!”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t be bouncing my knee if I wasn’t chained to someone with candle obsession issues,” he shot back.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who went full WWE over a toy train set!”

“You’re the one who tore it in half, lady!” he said, pointing accusingly.

“I was fighting for my family’s honor,” you retorted dramatically, crossing your arms as much as you could.

“You mean your candles.”

“It’s called being thoughtful, you Grinch impersonator!”

His knee bounced harder, and you grabbed his leg in desperation, making him pause. “Seriously, stop! I’m going to throw up, and then you’ll really regret this.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. But only because you look like you might actually hurl, and I don’t need Carl coming back and cuffing me to the radiator this time.”

“So,” Bucky continued after a beat of silence, “Do you always fight strangers over train sets, or is today special?”

You glared at him. “Do you always shop last minute and ruin people’s holidays, or is that your side gig?”

He snorted. “Ruining holidays? That’s harsh. I’m saving them.”

“By what? Sabotaging shoppers?”

“By making sure my best friend’s kid gets the one thing he asked for,” Bucky replied, voice softening slightly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. 

“Okay, that’s… kind of sweet,” you admitted reluctantly.

“What about you?” he asked. “Candles for everyone?”

“No,” you mumbled. “The train set was for my niece. She’s… had a tough year.”

Bucky nodded, silence enveloping the two of you yet again, the tinny chorus of Frosty the Snowman blared overhead, and the absurdity of your situation finally hit you. You started giggling, and to your surprise, so did he.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, still grinning.

“This,” you said between laughs. “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever been part of.”

“Right,” he agreed, laughing harder.

For the first time since being forced to sit there, you weren’t arguing. Well, unless you counted arguing about whose laugh was uglier.

Carl finally returned, jangling the keys like a janitor who had seen too much. His Santa hat was slightly askew, and his mustache twitched with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. He looked like someone’s adorable grandpa who had just been told the grandkids set fire to the Christmas tree.

“Alright, you two,” he grumbled, unlocking the cuffs. “You’re free. But before you go…”

He planted his hands on his hips, his gut straining against his red vest, and glared at you like you’d just stolen cookies from the jar. 

“I’ve been doing this job for fifteen years, and let me tell you, I’ve seen a lot of nonsense. But this—” he waved a hand between you and Bucky “—takes the fruitcake. Grown adults fighting over a toy train set like it’s the last turkey on Earth? Really?”

You started to open your mouth to argue, but Carl cut you off with a stern wag of his finger.

“No, no. Don’t even try to explain. You’re both guilty. Guilty of being Christmas disasters. And you…” he pointed at Bucky, his stubby finger trembling with indignation. “You’re what? Pushing 40? Shouldn’t you know better?”

That’s when Bucky’s lips twitched. And twitched again. And suddenly, he was laughing. Not just chuckling—a full-on, shoulder-shaking laugh that echoed through the tiny room.

Carl’s mustache twitched in annoyance. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said between gasps for air, “but… I’m being lectured by someone who looks like Santa’s understudy.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “You’re like a cute little Christmas elf—just missing the pointy shoes.”

Carl’s face turned as red as his vest. “I am not cute!” he barked.

“You kinda are,” Bucky said, grinning.

You smacked his arm. “Stop antagonizing him!”

But even you couldn’t suppress a giggle as Carl threw his hands in the air. “You know what? I’m done. Get out. Both of you. Before I call other mall security and have you escorted out by the Grinch Squad.”

Bucky saluted dramatically. “Merry Christmas, Carl!”

Carl muttered something about needing a stiff eggnog and waddled back to his desk, leaving you and Bucky to stumble out of the security office.

“Well, that was fun,” you deadpanned, starting to walk away, only to stop when Bucky called out.

“Wait! Hey!”

You turned, eyebrows raised. “What? Did you leave your dignity back there?”

He ignored the jab, shoving his hands into his pockets. For the first time since the ordeal started, he actually looked... awkward.

“I, uh… was just wondering what you’re doing after this.”

You blinked at him, genuinely caught off guard. “What am I doing? Are you serious?”

“Yeah, serious,” he said with a little shrug, his smirk less cocky and more boyish now. “You’re, uh… funny. And kind of cute, when you’re not threatening to strangle me over toy trains.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. 

“This—” you gestured dramatically between you both “—is the foundation of your flirting strategy? Chaos, insults, and shared custody of a train set?”

“Worked, didn’t it?” he teased, grinning now.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I just spent an hour handcuffed to you while debating whether or not to throw you out a window, and now you want to… hang out?”

“Why not?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, like this was the most reasonable suggestion in the world.

“Because this is ridiculous!” you exclaimed. “I barely know you, we’re still enemies by all accounts, and—”

“You haven’t said no,” he interrupted, cutting you off with a pointed look.

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Damn him and his stupid smirk.

Finally, you sighed, half-laughing at the sheer absurdity. “Fine. But if this turns into another wrestling match over a menu, I’m walking out.”

“Sure,” he said, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Whatever you want.”

As you both walked out of the office areas and back to the mall, you muttered under your breath, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Believe it, sweetheart,” he said, falling into step beside you. “And next time? Maybe we’ll skip the handcuffs… unless you’re into that.”

You glared at him, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, curving into an unwilling smile. Maybe chaos wasn’t such a bad foundation after all.

The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the room as Bucky groggily reached for the remote. Still half-asleep, he flicked on the TV, more out of habit than interest. The morning show’s upbeat jingle played, and he squinted at the screen, his brain catching up to the cheerful voices of the two hosts.

“—and now, for what might be the most hilarious Christmas shopping moment caught on camera!” the female host announced, barely suppressing her laughter.

Her co-host, a grinning man in a Santa tie, chimed in, “Oh, this is a good one. Forget Hallmark—this is real-life rom-com material, folks. Roll the clip!”

Bucky froze mid-stretch as the screen transitioned to shaky footage of himself and you, locked in a dramatic tug-of-war over the train set in the middle of the toy aisle. The commentary from the crowd was clear as day.

“Go lady! You’ve got this!”

“Ten bucks on the guy with the metal arm!”

“Oh, no,” Bucky muttered, sitting up straighter, dread pooling in his stomach.

The video jumped to the box tearing in half, scattering train pieces like confetti, followed by the baby wailing and someone shouting, “SANTA WOULDN’T APPROVE!”

The hosts erupted into laughter.

“Okay, okay,” the woman said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I’m calling it now—this is the meet-cute of the decade. I can hear the Hallmark writers typing this into a script.”

Her co-host nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. Two strangers, both fighting for the same toy on the eve of Christmas eve—classic enemies-to-lovers setup.”

They both howled with laughter as the clip transitioned to grainy security footage of you and Bucky cuffed together, bickering like an old married couple.

“And this is where the movie writes itself,” the man said, pointing to the screen. “They’re forced to spend time together, cuffed in the security office. Sparks fly. Cue the heartwarming ending!”

The woman leaned toward the camera, her expression conspiratorial. “So, the real question is… did they exchange numbers? Did they get coffee? Did they—”

Bucky groaned and buried his face in his hands as his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed it, flipping it over to see a message from Sam:

Sam: Congratulations, you’re famous. 

A second message immediately followed:

Sam: Also, what happened next? Don’t leave me hanging! Did you at least get her number?

Bucky tossed his phone onto the bed with a groan, only for it to buzz again. This time it was Steve:

Steve: They’re right. This does sound like the start of a love story. Please tell me you didn’t blow it.

“Unbelievable,” Bucky muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face as the TV hosts continued speculating.

“What do we think, folks?” the male host asked, gesturing dramatically. “Should we start a Twitter campaign to find out what happened next? I need closure!”

“Absolutely!” the female host replied. “If you’re watching this, toy train couple, please—reach out. America is invested.”

“I’m never leaving the house again.” Bucky groaned louder, sinking into the pillows. 

His phone buzzed again.

Sam: Famous AND trending. Look at you.

Bucky grabbed a pillow and smothered his face with it, his muffled voice barely audible: “I hate Christmas.”

He sighed and shifted, his pillow falling to the floor—he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, his irritation melted away as he looked to his right, where your figure was still peacefully curled under the covers. Your hair was a mess from the night before, your cheek pressed against the pillow in a way that made you look adorably innocent—though Bucky distinctly remembered you weren’t so innocent a few hours ago.

A small, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips. He let out a breath, shaking his head as he muttered to himself, “Actually. . . Maybe I don’t hate it too much.”

tags: @lomlbuckybarnes @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff @unaxv @carnal-vogue @bmyva1entine @wheredidiputmyfish

@thereoncewasagirlnamedjane @wanda-widow @filmologetica @awaywithtime @Thealyrs

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @winchestert101 @strawberrybisou @unaxv @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fynnwolff @Janonymus0 @veronicapaula

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, captive reader

gn reader

Thinking about poly yanderes… 

Being held still by one of them, forced to sit between his thick thighs – getting so sick of being outnumbered – feeling so weak, stuck in his muscle-swelled arms keeping you tight against him, wrapped snugly around your torso with your back to his chest while his hands grope your front, locking your own to your sides.

He rests his chin off your shoulder – whispering sweet words laced with mockery as you’re left to quake on his lap, struggling to keep your own pathetic sounds to yourself, having grown tired of screaming to be freed some time ago.

"You're shaking so much, sweetie~” He teases while licking your neck – smirking at how the fight in you, once so wild and untamed, had turned into you trying to restrain yourself in favor of breaking free. Fighting, now instead, to hold yourself back from spiraling until coming undone by the heat surging in your belly. 

Your face, dewy with a thin sheen of sweat, is held steadily in your other captor’s hand, keeping your misty hooded eyes looking up at him, where he leans over you while his other hand plays an eager one-sided game of war between your thighs. 

His mouth ghosts yours with small kisses, and everything smells of his breath as he pours sweet unwanted nothings down your throat. "Oh, y'so sweet in my hand~ so soft on my fingers~" 

It’s as though you can see the sickness in his eyes – leering at you like you're something he wants to devour.

“Don’t be shy~ show us how pretty you are when you cum~” He continued cooing.

“You know you want to~” The other accomplice added hot and damp right at your ear – just as amused as his partner. “Come on, baby~ show us~”

You whined, pathetically trying to wrench your face away from their pestering – overheated and overwhelmed – thighs shuddering around the stimulation, wherein the distress you wanted nothing more but to close your legs.

But the one behind you had them both hooked and spread beneath his, keeping you still and accepting of the one in front’s brazen touches.

You pinch your eyes close and bite your lip, not wanting it but feeling it take you nonetheless.

“No, no, no~” One of them tuts then, his mouth on your cheek catching tears. “Don’t look away, Angelface~ Keep your eyes on me~” He begs with fingers curled around your jaw, nuzzling your nose with his while pressing his forehead flat against your sweaty one. 

You whimper, and his thumb swirls over that place you're most sensitive. Cracking a splitting smile when you buck your hips in response.

“So close, buttercup~” He simpers before dragging his hot tongue from your chin to your temple. And you sob, thinking it’s just too cruel how your body decides to react to it. 

The knot within you seizes up, coiled so tight and stretched so thin it snaps – leaving you to throw your head back against the chest behind you – moaning out while they watch you gush for them with a shared smile on both their faces.

BNHA – DabiHawks, ShinKami, BakuDeku, ShigaDabi, TodoDeku, KiriBaku

JJK – SatoSugu, Toji x Shiu, MahiJaku, YujiKuna

HQ – Miya twins, IwaOi,

BLLK – NagiReo

HxH – KuraKuro, HisoIllu

[alchemistc]

Found this in my drafts and decided to finish it up, written before the Abby reveal so we're just pretending that never happened, have some outsider pov of the alt timeline where Tommy and Buck met before Buck was at the 118.

Tommy is being weird. That's the only way Hen can describe it. He's been quiet on calls, none of the usual banter and posturing she's used to; he's been quiet in the station, prone to staring at the space between his lap and the dinner table even as Chim spouts off some ironic quote that would have had him cheesing it up a few weeks previous; he's been quiet as he packs his shit and heads out for his truck. Each afternoon since he'd quietly announced his transfer to the 217, he's been quiet, and it's weird.

Hen's not entirely surprised. Tommy's nothing if not protective of his own feelings - years and years of Gerrard all hanging over their heads even though he'd admitted a few drinks deep one night that he was pretty positive his professionally scathing complaint about Gerrard was very likely what tipped the scales ("Could have been Sal's, though," he'd said with a shrug as his eyes drifted to the head on his beer.). From what she's gleaned off Chim, there's a good chance he'd been an ass in part to protect himself from feeling too bad about losing someone, too (again) - not that that's any type of excuse for the shit he'd had a hand in putting her through. An excuse for the things he's said, in the heat of the moment, in the quiet caverns of life under a shitty captain.

(Stumbled apologies, serious expressions on a face softened only by the shots he'd been buying all night, words said and unsaid between them and the gaping maw between a Chim happy to accept and move on while Hen downed her tequila and waited for the other shoe to drop.)

It's been years since then. Years and years winding between them all, a dozen captains and more than a few transfers of good firefighters away from the 118, and something good and warm and special brewing in their house with the arrival of the captain who'd made family dinners a daily occurrence.

She'd sort of expected Tommy might finally open up, when those family dinners kept going and Nash kept staying and things started to settle into something closer to friendly instead of the soldiers of war camaraderie they'd grown so used to. And maybe he has, to someone who isn't Hen - who'd taken his little efforts to change at face value and refused to put in more work than that for a colleague who'd made mostly bare minimum efforts post-Gerrard, always accepting the new status quo, refusing to make waves. She respects Tommy. Trusts him on the job, and sometimes off of it when they've had a shitty shift and need to decompress before they go home to the people in their lives who can never really understand losing someone to the heat of a fire, to blood loss and blunt force trauma. Doesn't care for him the way Chim seems to, doesn't really desire a closer relationship than the one they've maintained through the turnover of captains and the 48's they pull on occasion.

But Tommy's being weird, and Hen's pretty sure she's the only one who sees it.

She waits until she's sure Chim has a date to hit up Tommy for an after shift drink, and his eyes crinkle around the corners in suspicion because he knows just as well as she that she's putting them in an awkward position without the buffer zone of an extra coworker to fill in the blank spots of the things they don't say to each other. He'll be gone in a week. There's not a single fucking reason for her to try to get to know him better now.

"Sure thing, Wilson," he says, and when he offers to drive them both Hen makes up some excuse about needing her car in case of some Denny related emergency.

---

She expects it to take a while. Ply him with a few drinks, figure out what it is about Howie that always puts Tommy at ease so quickly when they're out like this and try to replicate it - he keeps things close to the vest but Hen has ways of weaseling things out of people once she's got them where she wants them.

Tommy sighs and picks at the label on his bottle. Thins his lips, and stares at her sideways. "I'm seeing someone," he says, in an undertone, and Hen hasn't even taken her first sip from the bottle he'd ordered for her, too, while she scrounged up one of the smaller booths. His eyes dart, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, that no one here recognizes him, and Hen - Hen knows that look. She just can't square that look with Mr. Toxic Heterosexuality himself.

Hen takes a sip. Forces herself not to vibrate out of her own skin because - because - because she's gotta wait this shit out. Could be he's found himself attracted to some weird goth chick, or a woman with meat on her bones, in which case he's in for a big ole smack to the head or one of the looks she reserves for when the boys get a little too caught up in their locker room talk.

He darts his gaze up. Meets hers, steady on, for the first time in...weeks, actually, now that she's thinking about it, and the guilt there in his eyes sure is something to behold.

"He's younger," Tommy says, and Hen rolls her tongue over her teeth so she doesn't do something stupid like hone in on that pronoun with either glee or full-on righteous anger.

Hen narrows her eyes instead, and is surprised that he keeps her gaze. She's expecting - unnecessary contrition, or maybe a ducked head or excuses. He chews on the inside of his lip and chuffs out a self deprecating laugh.

"I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing and he still lives in a frat house."

Hen's mind goes somewhere inappropriate, and she has to stop herself from making a truly horrible hand gesture because he can't possibly mean -

He rolls his eyes. "I know where to stick it, Wilson, that's not the issue."

She has about half a million questions queueing - things she's not sure they're close enough to ask, things she doesn't actually want the answer to but stick there in the back of her mind anyway, things she'd never ask someone who'd been kind to her from the outset. "How'd you do it?" he asks, and Hen remembers the way he'd stood, arms crossed and face blank and something sad and vulnerable in his face while she lectured from her red and chrome pulpit. Jesus. He's known. He's known a while.

"I've never exactly been passing," she tells him, and winces at the aggression in her voice, in that statement, in the very existence of the idea. He shoots her a bitchy look that's far more familiar, in line with their normal dynamic. It has her rolling her shoulders back, has her sitting up a little more in her seat. "Is that - are you asking me how to come out?"

Tommy shrugs. Tips his head. "You're the one who wanted to get drinks."

"And if I hadn't asked?"

She knows the answer. The dumbass would have transferred out of the 118 with no one the wiser. Probably fallen off all the group chats, squared with himself for however long it took, decided one way or another who to tell from there. But he's here now, talking to Hen. Telling Hen, the person he's probably the least close to.

Hen sighs. Takes a longer drag off her beer this time while Tommy folds up a piece of the label he's ripped off. She's not gonna be his fucking gay guru. They're not anywhere approaching that close.

He could have lied, though, is the thing. Seems like he's maybe been lying for a while, if the uncharacteristic fidgeting is anything to go by. She knows him under stress, knows him when he's walking through literal fire. Figurative fire is an entirely different matter. She doesn't know that Tommy.

The words that fall out of her mouth aren't the ones she's aiming for. "You and Sal." she says, and then bites down the rest of that sentence like it'll burn them both. His eyes dart up. He shifts in his seat.

"The only reason I'm saying a word is because the answer is no," he says, and - yeah that's fair. Everyone has the right to come out of the closet in their own fucking time.

"So this kid," Hen says, moving on, and - oh. There's that look. It's a little dreamy-eyed, the way he's been getting sometimes when he's looking down at his phone and trying his hardest to keep a straight face. "What's the deal there?"

"He's new," Tommy says, and Hen can feel her brow tic up of it's own accord, because he says it with the authority of someone who isn't new. Hen has to wonder exactly how many times the perpetually single Tommy joke had been made while Tommy was less than single. God, that had to have stung, hadn't it? "He's - apparently he didn't realize he was flirting until I kissed him about it."

That's remarkably brave for a man who isn't out to a single person he and Hen are mutually acquainted with. At least as far as she knows - Chim can't keep a secret to save his damn life so at least she knows he doesn't know.

"You know you didn't have to tell me any of this."

His expression is wry. He bites his lip, curls his tongue over his teeth, shakes his head like he's clearing cobwebs. "The transfer isn't the only thing I had on the docket for major life changes."

Karen's gonna be pissed if Hen doesn't get the dirt, she tells herself as she leans forward, so she throws a teasing edge to her voice as she quirks a brow. "This life change have anything to do with your baby gay or is that just a natural progression of the coming out process?"

Tommy's posture eases, just a little. He gives her a look that she's more familiar with seeing when Chim's in the booth next to him, or they're elbow deep in shit-talk at the station.

"Happy accident, actually," he says, and Hen leans in to listen to him dish when his eyes go all soft and gooey.

___

She's known Evan Buckley a total of six hours the first time he mentions his boyfriend. There's a nervous edge to it, like he's still testing the word out, like the syllables are unfamiliar, and he glances down at the phone in his lap right after he says it, like he's double checking something. Hen wouldn't have pegged him for it, for all that she tends not to make assumptions. It's just. He's so.

Hen shoves back against the stereotypical bullshit and throws him a bone, because he looks like he's fucking desperate to share information on the fact that someone cares enough about him to let him call them his boyfriend. She lobs a layup, something relatable about 'my wife, Karen'.

"Yeah, Tommy said you were married."

Hen pauses. Wonders if she can turn her head like an owl so that she doesn't have to shift her weight to look behind her at where Buck is happily washing dishes, elbow-deep in sudsy water. There's no one else up here with them - most of the shift is working off dinner downstairs.

"We never have meals like this at home, I'm lucky if the guys I live with don't steal my last packet of ramen before I can get to it," he'd said, and she remembers Tommy grinning at the memory of this Evan he'd been seeing being inordinately impressed by the fact that Tommy could grill a steak. ("Jesus, Kinard, are you sure you're not robbing the fucking cradle?")

Hen shifts. Eyes him a little more carefully as he turns his head to meet her gaze, and - holy shit, she's actually feeling a little protective of Tommy Kinard right now. "He know you're out here sharing his business?" It's not the tone she's going for - admonishing instead of exploratory, but Buck just grins at her over his shoulder, like he's pleased Tommy has someone watching out for him. Shit. She'd been a little concerned that Tommy was in over his head, stuck up on the idea of being out out and clinging to the first boy that batted his lashes, but it feels like maybe there's more to it than that. She can't square that with what has to be at least a decade of years between them, but -

Love is love, and all that.

"We, uh. We've been talking about it."

Hen raises an eyebrow, because that's not actually a green light to air Tommy's business.

"He - well last night we talked about it again. So. I mean it's not like Facebook official or anything. But he said it was cool to talk to you. A-all of you. He's - everyone at Harbor knows me."

It hurts a bit to know that Tommy's been there less than six months and felt more comfortable being himself with a bunch of strangers, but...

It's good. That he has that. That he's not walking the world just shoving bits and pieces of himself away.

Hen watches him rinse his arms and square his shoulders and shift to face her. "How'd you two meet, anyway?" she asks, because Tommy had been so stuck on the trying to figure out how to have an honest relationship piece that she'd never gotten around to asking.

Buck's expression could be easily mistaken for a solar flare, for the way it lights up the whole loft.

[navybrat817]

Fall for Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't think he's good enough for you, but still wishes he could be your guy. Word Count: Over 1.4k Warnings: Longing, insecurities, "just friends" (for now), Steve is a good friend, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: We'll call this a Friday Feels inspired by a nonnie.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a special kind of torture for Bucky to watch the person he loved flirt with someone else.

To be fair, he couldn't say for sure that you were flirting. Being friendly? Yes. You had a warm and welcoming personality, the kind he was drawn to the moment you two crossed paths months ago. One of the things he loved about you was how genuine you were. It was only natural that you pulled others in as well. Your compassion, charm, beauty, everything called to him.

You were the whole package, inside and out.

“What the hell am I doing here?” He muttered. He hadn't wanted to go to the bar, but Steve assured him it was a hole-in-the-wall sort of place. Not a lot of patrons on a night like this. Somewhere no one would bother them. He added at the last second that you were going.

Bucky grabbed his leather jacket to go as soon as those words left Steve’s mouth.

Instead of having a drink with you like he wanted or just talking, he simmered in silence in a booth while you stood at the bar. He narrowed his eyes as the guy you were talking to moved an inch closer. A bit too close for his liking.

Steve said his name was Will. They had met each other at some point in passing. Short blonde hair and a trimmed beard. Ex-military, but still built like he had a war to fight. Behind the guy’s blue eyes lurked pain, guilt, and regret that most would miss due to his general stoic demeanor. Bucky could relate all too well to horrors that haunted even the strongest of men.

But when Will looked at you, his eyes lit up. They held a sense of longing. Hope.

Once again, Bucky could relate all too well because that was how he looked at you.

“You’re doing that staring thing again,” Steve said, grabbing a beer from the bucket and setting it down in front of him. “Just talk to her.”

Bucky took a swig, but didn't take his eyes off you. He was afraid if he looked away that Will might convince you to leave with him. “Talk to her about what?”

His best friend sighed. “You know what.”

Steve knew how he felt about you. Talking about his feelings wasn't easy, but he had to tell his best friend. And it wasn't the first time Steve encouraged him to speak up. He said you had the right to know so the two of you could figure out how to move forward, whether as a couple or just friends, instead of dancing around it.

But how could Bucky admit how he felt when he didn't deserve someone like you?

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said.

“Bullshit.”

“We're friends,” Bucky stated. The words tasted as bitter as the beer he sipped. No, not bitter. He couldn't feel that way just because he had a piece of you when he wanted all of you.

Was he selfish for that?

He nearly shattered the bottle in his hand when you giggled at whatever Will said. Something akin to jealousy settled in his chest and he had no right to feel that way. The two of you weren't together. You were single and didn't owe him a thing.

But he knows if you gave him a chance, he’d treat you well. Better than any other guy before him. He would do his best to make you happy. Maybe that wasn't enough.

“Will is a good guy, but he isn't you, Buck. You’re still one of the best guys I know,” Steve said.

“You don't have to kiss my ass, punk,” he muttered, immediately regretting it. He was only trying to help and God knows he had done more than enough for him over the years.

Steve shook his head. “And you don't have to feel sorry for yourself, jerk.”

“I’m not,” he whispered. Maybe he was. He was sorry for so many things.

As if you sensed his sadness, you looked over your shoulder and met his gaze. You smiled at him, the kind of smile that stole the very breath from his lungs and made his head spin. He wanted to believe it was a smile you reserved only for him. And the softness in your beautiful eyes, he imagined he could see his future in them.

Could you see the endless love he had for you in his?

His heart ached when you turned away and put your hand on Will’s arm. Of course, you were attracted to the guy. Why wouldn’t you be? The thought of you kissing him though, being intimate with him? He felt sick enough to finally look away.

Bucky glanced at his distorted reflection in the beer bottle. A long time ago, he would've called himself handsome. Not because he was full of himself, but because he knew himself then. He knew how to walk the line between confidence and cockiness. He was full of life and wonder once. Now the weight of his sins showed in how he carried himself.

Sins you never judged him for.

“Jamie? Are you okay?”

Steve nudged him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was so lost in his mind that he hadn’t heard you call out to him. He should’ve known since you were the only one who called him Jamie. When he looked up from his seat, he saw that you were no longer standing next to Will as he was still at the bar. And there was nothing but concern in your gaze as you set your drink down on the table.

“What? What happened?” He asked, not smooth at all.

Your eyes flickered to Steve and then back at him. “I asked if you’re okay. You don’t look too well.”

“Not feeling so great,” he said, which wasn’t a lie. “This place…”

“Oh,” you said, sliding into the booth beside him. He inhaled, your sweet scent soothing the pain in his heart and making it race all at once. “Well, why don’t we head out? There’s no reason to stay if you don’t want to stay.”

He gently smiled. You were always willing to go with the flow and change plans if things ever got too loud or too much for him. “I’m fine. Besides, you just got your drink and you haven’t had a chance to play pool with Sam or Natasha,” he argued. He didn’t want to spoil your night.

You put your hand on his arm, but it seemed different than when you touched Will’s arm. This was tender, soothing. “If being here is making you uncomfortable, then I don’t feel like sticking around. They’ll understand. Steve, please, back me up on this.”

“She’s right. You two should go,” Steve said, conveniently leaving himself and the others out of the equation.

Bucky spared Will a glance, who was now talking to the guys he went into the bar with. He swallowed hard before the next words left his mouth. “What about your new friend?”

“You are my friend, Jamie,” you said. He winced inwardly at the reminder. Friends. You were just friends. “Don’t worry about him. Let’s just go. How about a movie at your place? Something low-key so you feel better.”

“You sure?” He asked, wondering just how eager he looked to leave with you.

“I’m sure,” you smiled, making his heart warm again.

“Okay. You convinced me,” he said. Not that it would’ve taken much. Your smile could bend the will of just about anyone.

“You know, I hear healthy conversations are also good to help people feel better,” Steve chimed in, earning an elbow to the side from Bucky.

You raised an eyebrow and slid out of the booth. “Yeah. Sure. Jamie and I can have a healthy conversation and you all enjoy the rest of the night.” You offered Bucky a hand to help him out. He didn’t want to let go. “C’mon. We have a movie waiting for us.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky teased, proud of himself when you giggled.

Steve gave him an optimistic smile and he couldn’t help but return it. He wasn’t sure if Will had given you his number or if you planned to see him, but maybe he’d take a chance and tell you he had fallen for you. Maybe, if he was lucky, you had fallen for him, too.

Just maybe.

And maybe, just maybe, this could be a thing? Did Will give you his number? Will Bucky say how he feels? What's going to happen? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[wildflowersandvibranium]

Your'e The One That I Want

Pairing: Modern!Bucky Barnes x Reader (Y/N)

Summary: She had mismatched socks , glitter on her cheeks , and the audacity to make him sing “Grease.” He never stood a chance.

A grumpy soldier. A karaoke queen. One very unexpected but well ended duet.

Word Count: 2.3k ish

Content: Fluff Fic! anxiety / nerves , alcohol consumption , kissing , a mild suggestive reference , just fun and fluff <3

A/N: haii! so i was doing karaoke with my friend and sparked this idea so i hope you enjoy! (I’ve never watched grease so if anything wrong I’m sorry) I’m also working on the next chapter for my bucky series right now so expect that very soon! Bye , bbys 💖

Requests Always Open! 🌷My Masterlist

While getting used to the modern world Bucky Barnes adapted to many of its high tech and loud wonders, a few examples of things he loved now being netflix , sushi and audio books , he now loved the fact he could easily listen to hundreds of novels as he ran or worked out. 

But there was also a smaller amount of things he hated of this century like the loud vehicles , dating apps and karaoke bars.

He did NOT do karaoke bars.

Correction: Bucky Barnes didn’t want to do karaoke bars. But when Sam Wilson, his best friend , stubborn punk , and soon-to-be-married man asked him to come out “just for one night,” to celebrate his engagement Bucky begrudgingly agreed.

So here he was now , sulking at the corner table of a dimly lit noisy karaoke bar in Brooklyn , nursing a whiskey neat out of a semi clean glass while a crowd of loud , already-buzzed party goers hollered along to a raucous slurred rendition of "Livin' on a Prayer."

“Buck , you’re so next ,” Sam shouted over the music , nodding his head to the stage , grinning ear to ear as he slammed down another tequila shot.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “Not a chance.”

“C’monnnnn,” Torres slurred laughing , draping an arm around Bucky's shoulders. 

“You used to be on stage all the time with that war tour with Steve? You were basically Justin Timberlake.”

Bucky blinked confused at the comparison , grunting. “I literally sang one song and wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back out.”

“C’mon , Barnes. You look like you’re about to get in a fight with the jukebox,” Sam teased again , sliding yet another whiskey over to him as he finished his last one. “It won’t kill you to loosen up , man.”

“I am loose,” Bucky grumbled , motioning vaguely to the group of guys sitting at the next table over. “Look. I’m... mingling.”

“Staring at people doesn’t count as mingling , old man.” Sam snickered.

Bucky gave him a deadpan look. “I thought this was supposed to be your night so why are you all worrying about me?"

“It is my night. And I want you to have fun with me. So… try , will ya?”

Bucky groaned, letting his head fall back against the booth. He was calculating the odds and ways of being able to slip out the side emergency exit without anyone noticing when you appeared in his line of sight.

Spinning away happy from the bar with a neon blue icy cocktail in hand and a tiny red cocktail umbrella tucked right behind your ear. 

You were smiling so brightly it practically knocked the breath out of him. Your jeans had paint smudges and rips on them , your slightly cropped graphic tee read the name of a band he wasn't familiar with and you had sock clad feet because your heels were apparently “trying to murder you.”

He watched closely as you made a straight beeline to the karaoke signup stand giggling , still clutching the drink , turning dramatically on your heel , and looked around for someone , anyone—to join you.

You originally planned upon on arriving , to sing with your brother but he was currently in the bathroom making out with some random blonde and you still wanted to sing before the night was over.

Your beaming eyes scanned the room and locked tight onto his squinted blue ones.

“YOU!” you pointed right at him smiling big.

Bucky blinked and looked behind him.

“No , no , you! Tall , dark, and pouty.” nodding your head with your pointer finger in the air still directly at him.

A collective “ooohhh” spread through the bar by guests and a few laughs and nudges from Sam and the other groomen guys.

Bucky frowned , not believing you were meaning him , out of all the people in this crowded place. “Me?”

You grinned , biting your lip looking at the man. “Yeah. You’ve got strong "grew up on Sinatra and got great Elvis impressions in the shower" energy. Wanna duet with me?”

“I—no. I don’t sing,” Bucky uttered quickly , hands up like you were armed and he was surrendering , shaking his head frantically.

You narrowed your eyes. “C’mon , not even while you drive? Not even to annoy your siblings?”

“I-I don’t have any siblings.” He swallowed the last of his drink down fast , out of fear.

“Perfect,” you marched , grabbing his hand and tugging him up. 

“Then no one’s here to embarrass you but me.”

And somehow , someway—you had him on his feet , being dragged toward the little stage hot on your heels with a grip that was way stronger than expected for someone with mismatched socks on and was that glitter spread on your cheeks?

“Alright , what are we doing?” Bucky asked, looking at you as the host handed over the mics.

You turned to him , eyes sparkling. “Grease. But we switch roles. I’ll be Danny, you be Sandy.”

He stared at you like you’d just asked him to fight Thanos again and at this point he would , anything to get out of this.

But there was something in your eyes that made him take the mic from the host anyways and move to the center stage.

You winked. “Go big or go home ,  right Soldier.” You patted his arm. “Here hold my hand” your eyes twinkled as you turned to him.

Bucky stared wide eyed and gladly took the anchor you offered , as the music started to play.

You bumped him with your hip playfully. “C’mon , stud.”

The music started playing. The audience whooped and clapped.

And Bucky Barnes , former hydra killer , current grumpy old man began to sing 

He hesitated for a moment —then muttered into the mic , very quietly the beginning of his part. 

The room cheered and whistled.

“Oh , he’s got a voice!” someone from the crowd hollered.

Bucky's cheeks flushed turning pink ,  and all he wanted was to sink into the floor and stay there hidden. 

But looking at you , seeing you beaming somehow made him keep going.

By the second chorus , he was loosening up more and more. Just a little. 

You leaned against him during the harmony like it was a routine you’d rehearsed a hundred times together.

He was still awkward , still gruff , but the way you looked at him , with zero judgment , just pure innocent joy—gave him the space to… try.

“You're the one that I want,” you both sang—your voice sweet and teasing , his deep and surprisingly steady throughout.

You danced like you’d never heard the word shame or embarrassment in your life , pretending to comb your hair back , even blowing a kiss to Bucky halfway through the song before you flopped onto the floor with a booming tipsy laugh.

Bucky choked on a laugh mid song. Somewhere between the third verse and your exaggerated hip thrusts , he gave in. 

He grinned. He laughed. He tossed his head and leaned into the mic with a swoony look.

After the song had finished and you were both spent and out of breath you made your way back to the bar together. 

“That didn't go nearly as bad as I had planned in my mind for it to , thanks to you.” he said in between breaths leaning on the bar.

You laughed , leaning an arm on his. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all night.”

“I mean it ,” Bucky said , still watching you the entire time. “You’re funny. Real funny.”

“I try,” you teased , twirling a strand of hair absentmindedly. “You’ve got a good voice for a guy who looked like he was gonna punch the karaoke machine five minutes ago.”

He smirked. “I still might.”

You grinned at his words , and then glanced down at his metal arm still hanging between you. 

Without asking , you tapped it gently , your finger nail hitting the plates. “And , that thing gets major applause too.”

“You’re not...weirded out by it?” He looked straight into your eyes with a hint of worry like you would now walk away once connecting the dots.

“Nope. You kidding? Half the guys I date or meet can’t even change a tire. You’ve got a whole vibranium arm.” 

That made him laugh. Actually laugh.

You knew who he was the moment your eyes met across the bar , but who cares , you sure didn't , wasn't like it was his fault and we don't all get dealt the best cards , his though were just...worse than others.

“So , mystery man… you gonna tell me your name now that we’ve sung our hearts out together in front of forty plus people?”

“Bucky.” He replied giving you a lopsided smile.

You held your dominant hand out to shake his. “Nice to meet you , Bucky. I’m the disaster you just survived on stage  , Y/N.” 

His large palm met yours. Warm. Steady. Firm.

“Well , Y/N…” he said , trying the name out slowly on his tongue like he liked the taste of it. 

“You come here often , or just show up to hijack the mic and steal unsuspecting war veterans for musical duets?”

You winked , waving the bartender down to order another drink of the night. “Only the pretty ones.”

You both ended up at a table just the two of you with two newly half-drunk drinks and one truly iconic duet left behind.

Bucky leaned on the wooden table top beside you, cheeks still a tint of pink from residual embarrassment (and maybe a touch of adrenaline). 

You sipped the fruity drink from your glass , glancing sideways at him with a smile meeting his already looking at you gaze.

“So,” you began drawing out the “o” ,  “on a scale of one to “please wipe this entire night from my memory,” how traumatic was that for you?”

He chuckled looking down , shaking his head. “Surprisingly tolerable. Mostly because of you.”

You raised a brow. “Mostly?”

“You kidnapped me mid bachelor party ,” he reminded you with a half-smile. “Publicly.”

You grinned proudly. “You’re welcome. And hey , you didn’t totally hate it I saw that toe-tap and smirk during the chorus.”

His mouth twitched upawrds. “You saw that , huh?”

“Oh yeah. You were getting into it.” You nudged his arm. “Admit it—you had fun.”

“…Maybe.”

“Bucky Barnes ex assassin , now avenger ; secret karaoke lover , has a nice ring to it” You gestured in the air like you were laying out the words for him to read.

“I wouldn’t go that far you dork ,” he muttered , smiling over the rim of his drink. “But you made it easy. You’re... good company.”

Your chest fluttered a little. “Well , If you ever need a duet partner again…”

He looked over at you , really looked this time , like he was memorizing the way your lashes curled outward and the way your face was dotted with freckles here and there.

“…Wouldn’t mind that,” he said quietly. “Singing with you. Or just… more time with you.”

You blinked , your playful tone softening into something else. “Yeah?”

He nodded. 

Then, with a small nervous huff of breath , he added , “I’ve got a phone…don't exactly know how everything in it works yet but you could put your number in it. I-If you want , I can at least answer a call or text.”

You smiled brightly , reaching for it in your bag without hesitation. “Lemme see it , Danny.”

As you typed your name and number into his contacts , complete with a microphone and smiley emoji—he watched you like you’d just stepped into his life from another universe. 

Messy outfit , wild laugh , and all you had to offer.

You handed it back with a grin. “There. Now you’re legally required to sing a duet with me once a month.”

Bucky smirked. “Is that a threat , doll?”

“It’s a promise.”

A beat passed in the air between you two.

The bar around you slowly faded into a muted blur of music and mindless chatter. 

For a second , it felt as if it was just the two of you in your own little spotlight , your own bubble.

Then he leaned in slowly—hesitant , but hopeful. 

Eyes flicking to your lips.

And when you gave him the nod of approval to keep going , he finally connected you two fully and kissed you. 

Soft and warm , it wasn’t perfect or polished. 

It was a little funny , a little clumsy over the table but completely you and him.

When you pulled back for air breathless and smiling , you murmured against his lips–

“That wasn’t half-bad either.”

He let out a small laugh pecking the corner of your mouth and leaning back to take your face in his right hand.

“Oh , yeah?” he began brushing his thumb along your jaw and chin. “Well then you should see me on the dance floor.” he winked.

“Oh my,” you shook your head looking down letting a small chuckle escape from his words. “One duet and he’s already so cocky.”

“Give me a couple more and I’ll show you what does down when I put on my tap shoes”

You laughed so hard sitting back completely in your seat , you spilled your drink , but you didn't care. 

And Bucky Barnes , grumpy , old , war-torn Bucky Barnes—just looked at you like maybe he’d found his new favorite song he couldn't wait to listen to on repeat.

-end

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[primal--scream]

Eddie will never know exactly what makes it finally click for him, but the second it does, there's no going back.

Maybe it's divine intervention. Maybe it's Bobby's ghost; maybe it's Shannon's. Maybe it's the way that Buck had smiled at him that morning over a bowl a cereal.

Could have been the way Buck had spent all of last night helping Chris research his paper on the Cold War, excitement pouring out of him while Chris smiled at him like he was better than ice cream. Or maybe it was the fondness on Buck's face when Chris had told them he wanted Bobby's lasagna and Buck's bread pudding for his birthday meal.

Maybe it's the way the sun is currently streaming through the kitchen window, turning Buck's two day stubble into burnished copper and gold.

He knows it could be any one of a million normal things that go on between them in any given day that just all of a sudden landed differently. But as far as Eddie is concerned, it doesn't actually matter why or how or when. It only matters that it is.

With a clarity he's never felt before, he realizes he's not looking for a way out or an excuse to push it away. He's done running from the good things in his life. He's done being afraid to take what he wants. He's done being a spectator in his own life.

What he does know is that he can't seem to look away from how beautiful Buck is at this very moment. It's not a thought he's had before and not one he'd ever thought he'd have in the first place, but it's a rock solid truth that goes bone deep. Buck is beautiful, and Eddie wants him, and that's all there is to it.

He can't look away from the unruly way Buck's hair curls across his forehead or the way his hands work the dough across the island. He's mesmerized by the way Buck's face is flushed with exertion and how there's a small smudge of flour high on his cheekbone from where he used the back of his hand to scratch an itch. Eddie has the sudden urge to wipe it away, to rub his thumb over the same spot, maybe press a gentle kiss there just to watch Buck blush.

There's a burning inside him, and he wonders if this is what a volcano feels like just before it erupts. All bubbling fire and cresting heat as its lava slowly works its way up, up, up to the mouth of the mountain before spilling over in an explosive inferno.

He has a driving need to move, to touch, to taste, to have. There's an urgency under his skin, it almost makes him itch. He realizes he can't stand here, in this spot that seems so far away from what he wants, for even one more second.

Buck startles when Eddie reaches him, his head comes up, a question in his eyes, but Eddie just takes the dough from his hands and sets it further up on the cutting board. He does touch the flour on Buck's cheek briefly before he slides his hand behind Buck’s neck, fingers splaying wide against the back of his head. He sees the confusion on Buck's face turn to surprise, and then something else, something almost like anticipation and then hope as Eddie slowly pulls him forward.

When there's only air between them, and Eddie's mouth is a mere inch from Buck's, he runs his nose along Buck's cheekbone smearing the flour onto his own face. Eddie hears Buck's sharp inhale. It makes him smile, lets his bottom lip just barely graze Buck's cherry pink upper lip.

Not wasting another second Eddie slants his mouth over Buck's in a kiss that leaves no room for doubt about who Buck is to him and what he wants.

Kissing Buck is everything he's always thought first kisses should be. Awkward for just a split second until they're both there, and then everything falls into place and they ebb and flow like a tide, trading soft and short and long and deep kisses back and forth until they're both breathless with it.

When Buck pulls back and his eyes flutter open a smile splits his face when he asks, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Eddie says before diving back in for another kiss. They don't break apart until much later when they hear crutches coming down the hallway.

[bullet-prooflove]

Slut: Frank Langdon x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @julessworldd @yousigned-upforthis @travelingmypassion @julius-ceasar

Companion piece to:

Hypocrite - Frank struggles to make amends for a past wrongs.

Crash - Almost getting you fired wasn't the lowest point of Frank's addiction.

Rock Bottom - Frank hits rock bottom when he sees the devastation his addiction's caused.

Little Black Dress - Frank starts to spiral when he realises you're dating.

Every Damn Day - A drunk text leads to a confession.

Wet Dream (NSFW) - Frank sometimes dreams about the life you had together.

War Stories - A realisation about your coping habits leads you to Frank's door.

The Three Cs - Frank and you finally discuss your issues and pave away towards the future.

The Wall - A date at the climbing wall leads to a revelation from Frank.

Commitment - You create a fun way of showing Frank your commitment to the relationship.

All In (NSFW) - You and Frank take a big step forward.

Frank is a slut for you.

He always has been.

It’s why you have him tied to the bed right now, wrists bound to the headboard with those silk straps you bought together in that sex shop on Mcknight.

“Don’t be gentle with me.” He warns you, tugging at the restraints, testing the knots. “I don’t need that tonight.”

“You are at my mercy.” You remind him, your fingers threading though his hair and yanking at the roots. He hisses through his teeth at the sensation as your nose trails along his. “And since it’s your first time in a while we’re going to take it slow.”

“Come on Ivy.” He drawls, his vibrant blue eyes meeting yours. “We both know I can take it.”

“Frank, it’s a non-negotiable.” You murmur, pulling his hair again, making his hips buck at the motion. “We both also know how you get a little masochistic streak when you lose a patient. I will give you what you want but we need to do it safely. Now are you going to shut the fuck up or do I need to gag you?”

“You want me to be quiet you’re gonna have to make me.” He says with that feral smile.

“You really are being a little brat tonight.” You tease as you reach into the bottom drawer of your nightstand and pull out the gag, the one with the silicone dick that fits perfectly between his lips. His eyes brighten with excitement and he squirms against the restraints at the prospect of having his smart mouth filled. “Oh I see, it needs to be all your holes does it?”

You trail the tip of the dildo over his lips and he tries to jerk his head away as you force the tip between them. You grasp his jaw tightly and he whines as the cock infiltrates his mouth inch by inch until its flush against his lips.

“Good?” You ask and he nods his head before you buckle the gag in place. You place a soft kiss over the leather, your thumb tracing over his cheek. “If you want me to stop, knock twice on the headboard alright?”

He nods again, watching as you pick up the expensive lube, the one that feels like silk before coating your fingers with it. His gaze strays to the strap on, laying on the bed beside you and you sigh as you settle between his thighs.

“Gotta warm you up first baby. You know that.” You chide, your lips brushing over the scar on the hollow of his knee from that cycling accident five years ago. Already his cock is leaking, dripping onto his stomach from the flushed head.

Your fingers delve between his legs, tracing over that needy little hole of his, his hips arching with each swipe, trying to grind down against them. You tut at his desperation, your palm coming to rest on the back of his thigh, pushing it towards his chest. You hear his breath catch because it opens him up, gives him less control. Your finger penetrates his ass and he moans around the cock in his mouth as you begin to pump it gently inside.

“You’re tight Frank.” You whisper, your cheek coming to rest against his knee. “So fucking tight baby, I’m gonna make you come on my fingers instead.”

He scowls at you, but then you add another finger, both of them brushing against the prostate and his eyes roll back into his head at the sudden burst of ecstasy.

“Not so cocky now are we.” You tease, guiding his knee over your shoulder as you shift positions, getting a little deeper and he moans like a whore. Your free hand wraps around his cock, thumb smearing his pre-cum over the head and down the shaft. He fucks up into your fist chasing that release and you stop, gripping the base hard as he pulses in your hand. A strangled cry leaves his throat, that pretty apricot hue blossoming up his neck.  

“This is the thing I’ve missed most about fucking you.” You tell him, your fingers stroking over his prostate. “How beautiful you look when you actually let me take care of you.”

You start to move again, jerking him off in time with the firm, steady rhythm of your fingers. His breath turns ragged, his movements less coordinated as his muscles tense and he starts to pull at his restraints. His back bows with every stroke, his head tipping back into the pillow until that blush creeps up his cheeks and his wild eyes meet yours.

It’s that intimacy that sends him over the edge, that trust that you’ve got him no matter what happens in this bed, in his life.

The rapture hits him like a force of nature, searing through his nerve endings like the climax of a storm, the heavens bursting, giving way to that sweet release. A guttural groans tears from the depths of his throat as streaks of hot, white come paint his stomach and chest.

He looks like a fucking mess in your sheets, tousled hair, flushed skin, stained in the evidence of his euphoria as he clenches around your fingers.

He grumbles when you withdraw from him, your hands smoothing along his trembling thighs. You kiss a trail up along his body, tongue lapping up a line of come before you reach up and unfasten the gag, easing the cock from between his swollen lips.

“You were right.” He whispers, his voice a rasp as you untie the silk binding his wrists to the bed. “I’m out of practice, the strapon would have been too much.”

“We’ll work our way back to it.” You promise him, using the wipes you keep handy to clear off the spent from his belly before tossing them in the general direction of the trash.

His arms wrap around you, gathering you up close, his palms roving over the curve of your back, tracing over the intricate tattoos that decorate your skin. He always needs the proximity in the aftermath, more so these days after everything he put you through.

His phone chimes and he curses, his forehead coming to rest upon yours as you look into his eyes.

“I’m supposed to go to a meeting tonight.” He murmurs into the barest space between you. “But I don’t want you to think I’m fucking and running.”

“I don’t.” You tell him, your thumb tracing over the dark stubble that’s starting to appear along his jaw. “This only works if you stay healthy and the meetings are a part of that.”

“Can I come back after?” He asks you. You reach over into your nightstand, removing the spare key you had made earlier today before pressing it into his hand.

 “I would be very upset if you didn’t.”

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