#yard barn and more

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Mission Mishap

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: A recon mission gone awry leads to Bucky having to protect his sunshine. As the snowstorm gets worse, he becomes her shelter from the storm, showing a tenderness that he rarely allows others to see.

Word Count: Roughly 1.8k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, fluff, injury-related pain, bruising, cold exposure, mild language (like two curse words)

Author’s Note: It was snowing, and I got ✨inspired✨

This felt a little choppy because I combined two drabbles, but I think it works :)

Navigation

What should have been a quick recon in the mountains became more complicated when a snowstorm hit faster and harder than previously anticipated. You could barely keep up with Bucky as he pushed ahead, his sharp eyes scanning the nearby. The cold penetrated through your layers; gnawing at your bones and intensifying the ache of your bruises, but you forced yourself to keep moving.

"Can you handle a few more yards?" he asked, his voice low, and despite the chaos, was comforting. "Map says there’s a hostel a quarter of a mile away."

"I’m fine," you mumbled. You knew your words were merely a weak attempt to reassure both yourself and him.

Bucky turned his head toward you, his gaze softening. 

"Don’t do that," he replied. "Stop pretending you’re fine when you’re so clearly not."

The harsh wind bit at your face, and you tried to keep up with him, you couldn't hide the way your teeth chattered.

"You need to stop," Bucky said, voice sharp and authoritative. "You’re shaking like a leaf. Let me help you."

Before you could argue, he moved without hesitation, shedding his jacket in one smooth motion and draping it over your shoulders. 

"Come here," Bucky said. "No arguments. You’re freezing, and I won’t let it get worse."

You tried to protest as you stammered, "I-I’m fine. Really, Bucky, I’m fine."

But Bucky wasn’t having it. 

His glared down and you and you looked away.

"No, you’re not," he said again, this time softer. "You’re going to listen to me now, okay?"

He didn’t wait for a response. He wrapped his arms around you, guiding your arms around his neck and lifting you without much effort. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as you gave up on protesting. His body heat radiated through his sweater and the warm jacket he wrapped you in helped in instantly melting away the cold that had settled into your bones.

Bucky’s chest rose and fell under you, steady and reassuring, grounding you as the world around you spun with snow, harsh winds making it difficult to see. He held you close, his grip never wavering as if to say he wasn’t letting go, not for anything.

"You listen to me," he said said softly. "If anything happens to you out here, I’m going to be fucking pissed. Understand?"

"Noted," you said softly, your voice muffled by his neck. You tightened your grip on him, clinging to him as your life depended on it because, in a way, it did. Not that you’d ever complain.

You could feel his steady heartbeat, the way his breath slowed as he focused on getting you both to safety. His steps were purposeful, unhurried, but determined as he carried you toward the small hostel.

When you finally reached the building, Bucky didn’t waste a second. Without a word, he guided you inside and he gently set you down on a chair. The warmth of the room feeling like a stark contrast to the biting cold that had gripped you just moments before. Pun intended.

"You stay here," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "I’ll get us a room and call the team."

You nodded. 

As he moved to make arrangements, you wrapped yourself tightly in his jacket, the faint scent of him still lingering on the fabric. 

You winced from the pain in your side, but you manged to stay still. You looked out the window, watching as the storm raged on.

When Bucky returned, he didn’t waste any time sitting next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. 

"Better?" he asked.

You leaned into him, letting the comfort of his presence envelop you. 

"Yeah," you said softly. "Much better. Thanks, Bucky."

"You don’t have to thank me," he muttered, his voice low, almost intimate. "I’m just doing what’s right. Keeping you safe."

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to melt into the warmth of his embrace. "I know," you whispered, your voice quiet but filled with gratitude. "And I’m glad you’re here."

Bucky’s fingers brushed through your hair, his protective grip never faltering. "And I’m not going anywhere," he murmured.

A moment later, he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to the room he booked and dumping you on the bed. The sudden motion made you giggle as you kicked off your boots.

Bucky turned up the heat, and as the warmth began to fill the room, you settled onto the covers. 

"What did the team say?" you asked quietly.

"They’ll try to make it tonight," he replied. "But I told them we can wait until the morning."

You raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Why?"

"Because I’m keeping you safe tonight," he murmured, quickly adding, "And Sam snores. I can hear him from two rooms down the hall. I’m in no rush to go home, sunshine."

You laughed softly, your eyes brightening. "You’re unbelievable, Bucky."

Bucky grinned, his usual grumpy expression softened. "Yeah, but you’re stuck with me."

"Seriously though," he said, his voice suddenly quieter, "I’m not letting anything happen to you. Not on my watch."

"I know," you whispered, your voice soft but filled with sincerity. "And I trust you."

His eyes softened, just for a moment, before he cleared his throat and pulled away slightly, pretending to be unaffected by the vulnerability in the air. 

“Hey,” he muttered, his voice hushed and rough with concern. He paused for a moment as if considering whether to push or back off. He couldn’t ever quite figure out how to balance his protective nature. But when it came to you, he couldn’t help himself. “You sure you’re okay?”

You forced a smile, shifting a little more, trying to get comfortable, but the throbbing in your side was relentless. The last thing you wanted was for him to notice. He already had enough on his shoulders; you wouldn’t let him add your worries to his pile.

“I’m fine,” you whispered. Lie.

"Bullshit," he grumbled, his voice laced with frustration, the one that surfaced when he cared too much and couldn’t fix things fast enough. "What’s the matter?"

Bucky stared at you, his eyes narrowing. 

God, that stare. 

It was like he could read every inch of your soul, and you couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.

“Talk to me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, your side flaring up in protest. You winced, sucking in a sharp breath, hoping he didn’t notice, but of course, he did. 

He always noticed when it came to his sunshine.

"My side. Just a little pain," you admitted, the bruise hidden under the layers of clothing you still wore.

Bucky’s face softened, his worry evident. Without a word, he stood up, reaching for the small medical kit in his bag.

"Lift your shirt," he said, his voice low but commanding.

"I'm fine-" You mumbled. 

But Bucky wasn’t one to back down. He crouched in front of you, his large hands already moving to your waist, his fingers brushing the fabric of your shirt with a touch that was far too tender for someone like him.

“Lift.” The word was soft, but there was a dangerous edge to it, a warning wrapped in affection. The way he said it made it clear that this was happening.

You frowned and you raised the hem of your shirt, exposing the tender spot on your side where the impact from earlier had left its mark. "Shh, sunshine." He whispers soothingly. "You're okay, promise."

Bucky’s hands were gentle as he inspected the injury, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin, and his touch was careful but sure. There was something tender about the way he looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. It made you lightheaded.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” he muttered, though you could hear the underlying concern in his tone. “But we’re still gonna clean it up, yeah?”

 His brow furrowed, and for a moment, his expression softened into something that hurt to look at. 

Like you meant something to him.

The second his fingers brushed over your side, just lightly grazing the bruise, you couldn’t help it. A whimper escaped, and your body tensed. You hated it. Hated being weak.

“Shh.” His voice was soothing. “You’re doing so good.”

You tried to move, to escape the pressure, but Bucky’s hand was already on your abdomen, holding you gently but firmly in place. His fingers splayed out over your skin, not forceful, but steady.

“Sorry,” you muttered, your voice strained as another wave of pain hit and you squirmed.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Bucky murmured, his grip tightening just a little, his other hand reaching for the antiseptic wipe. "Just breathe for me, okay?"

Something about his voice, soft yet commanding, made the tension in your body ease just enough for you to inhale deeply, to steady yourself.

“You’re tough, sunshine,” Bucky murmured, his eyes softening even more as he cleaned the bruise. "You’ll be alright."

But his voice held a gentleness that made your heartache. As he worked, cleaning the wound, his touch was slow, deliberate. The sting from the wipe was sharp, but his hands on your skin were grounding, like he was pulling the pain out of you with every careful movement.

Every time you whimpered, every time the pain made itself known, he soothed you with gentle words,“I know, sunshine, I got you,” “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

He cleaned the wound with slow, careful movements. The cool, sterile wipe stung a little, but his gentle touch was soothing, making the discomfort easier to bear. 

“I got you.” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. A calm anchor. “Just breathe, sunshine.”

And you did.

When he finally finished, he leaned back and reached for a bandage. He pressed the bandage against your side like he was trying to heal something deeper than the bruise, something you couldn’t name.

“Good as new.” His voice was softer now. “You’re tough, sunshine. You’ll be alright.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers brushing the edge of the bandage. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, but there was no bite to it. His gruffness was a comfort, like a wall of security you could lean against when everything else felt shaky.

“Just-” His eyes softened as he looked at you, the rare tenderness that always made your chest tighten. “Get some sleep, alright?”

You nodded, curling up under the covers.

“Goodnight,” you whispered, your voice small and soft as you nestled against him.

Bucky’s hand gently brushed through your hair, his fingers pausing to stroke your scalp in a way that made you feel like the most important thing in the world.

“Goodnight, милая девочка.” Sweet girl.

His words were quiet, a soft reassurance in the night. You let out a sigh, the ache in your side fading as the warmth of his body enveloped you, and slowly, you drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Bucky stayed awake for a while, keeping watch, making sure you were alright. But as the night drew on, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, making sure you were okay before falling asleep himself.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[flowersforbucky]

cherry blossoms

bucky barnes x reader

you give bucky flowers for the first time.

word count: 1.7k

warnings/tags: established relationship, thunderbolts era but no spoilers bc i wrote this before i even saw the movie lol, minor references to ca: brave new world, fluff, reader is implied to be shorter than bucky

author's note: okay i am so sorry if you've seen this before 😭 posted it a few weeks ago and it had a bunch of issues with the tags. so i'm going to give it another shot and hope for the best.

follow @flowersforbuckyfics for updates ♡ dividers by @/strangergraphics ♡ header collage by me

“Honestly, I can hardly even tell that Sam and Ross came close to destroying this place just a few weeks ago.”

The early spring air is particularly cool this evening, causing you to keep a tight hold on Bucky's flesh arm for a little extra warmth. You always joke that he's your own personal space heater. You suppose that's one benefit of the serum in his veins – even when the wind is making you shiver, you can always count on him to feel as if he’s been sitting beside a fire for hours.

He notices your tightened hold on his arm and comes to a sudden stop in the middle of the sidewalk. He shrugs out of his leather jacket, holding it open for you to step into. You’re already wearing a cardigan, but with the sun now setting over the Tidal Basin, you know it’s only going to get chillier as it gets darker. So you shove your arms into the sleeves, letting him drop the warm leather that smells like him over your shoulders.

“I had just told Sam how excited you were to see the cherry blossom trees this year,” Bucky laughs, taking your hand in his once more as you resume your stroll beneath the millions of pink blossoms. “I guess he tried to leave a few still standing.”

You snort. “How considerate of him.”

You’re both being sarcastic, of course, but you do feel incredibly lucky to be able to see the gorgeous trees – and at their peak, too. Bucky had picked the perfect weekend for your little D.C. getaway. After cramming every historical monument and museum possible into the two day trip, it’s a nice change of pace to simply leisurely meander through the park with your arm in his. You think it’s the perfect way to end the weekend before flying back to New York early in the morning.

“Are they as beautiful as you remember them being?” He asks softly, glancing down at you.

This isn’t your first time experiencing D.C.’s cherry blossom trees, but the one and only other time you’ve seen them was ages ago, as a young child. You can vaguely recall the soft baby pink petals falling around you as you sprinted down the sidewalk by the water, but it’s been so long that it feels as if you’re now seeing them with brand new eyes.

“They’re even better,” you hum, looking up at all of the branches swaying in the breeze. “Then again, that might just be because I’m here with you.” You add with a nonchalant shrug.

He chuckles, unable to hide the blush that appears on the apples of his cheeks at your flirting. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together – if you compliment him, tease him, flirt with him – he is bound to blush, his cheeks turning pinker than the flowers themselves.

You have to admit it – you like making him blush. You like that when he does, he smiles so big that it brings out the crinkles around his eyes. You like knowing that you’re the only person who can cause him this kind of physical reaction.

That’s when an idea pops into your head. It’s innocent enough – other than a couple walking with their two young children a few yards ahead of you, there’s no one else around – so it’s not like you’d be potentially embarrassing him.

You just think he’s really fucking cute when he blushes.

You pause your steps, pursing your lips to try to stop yourself from smirking. Bucky freezes, too, eyeing you with raised brows.

“What’s that look for?” He asks, his tone making it obvious that he knows you’re up to something.

“Wait right here,” you order him before pulling your arm away from his. You practically skip over to the nearest tree, reaching up to the lowest hanging branch that you can find. On your tiptoes, you delicately remove sprigs of the blossoms until you have enough to form a tiny bouquet.

You feel a little silly. You’ve never presented a guy with flowers before. But Bucky isn’t just any guy, and if any man has ever deserved flowers, you know that it’s him.

“I know it’s not quite as extravagant as the bouquet that you gave me on Valentine’s Day…” You hand him the tiny bouquet of pink flowers, thinking back to the ornate arrangement of wildflowers that he’d gifted you earlier this year. “But it’s the best I can do it at the moment.”

He opens his mouth in surprise, momentarily speechless as he accepts the flowers from you. Just as you had predicted, his cheeks begin to flush pink once more. This time brighter and more evident than before.

“For me? You shouldn't have.”

He selects one of the individual flowers and raises his hand to your head. You go still, not taking your eyes off of him as he places the stem behind your ear. You feel your own cheeks heat up at the intimate gesture.

“You know, I've always thought that pink looks pretty on you,” he tells you, moving his hand away from your ear and to your face. He cups the side of your cheek in his palm, then leans down far enough to lightly kiss your forehead.

The fleeting thought crosses your mind that it's a good thing that the walking trail for the cherry blossom trees isn't crowded this evening, because you and him are stopped right in the middle, taking your sweet time.

“We should get one, you know,” you say, nodding towards the tree closest to you. “A young one, so that we can plant it and watch it grow. We’ll have to get out of an apartment and find a place with a nice yard first, but…” You trail off in wishful thinking.

Bucky had terminated the lease to his own apartment early, choosing to move in with you. But the lease to your Brooklyn apartment will soon be up, too, and the two of you had started to have discussions about future living arrangements. Rent isn’t exactly cheap in downtown Brooklyn, and both of you long for something a bit more quiet and private.

“Whatever you want,” he murmurs. “We get out of the city and we’ll plant as many cherry trees as you want.”

One Year Later

The aroma of garlic and herbs in tonight’s dinner fills the entirety of your home from where it roasts in the oven.

For the tenth time in the last half hour, you glance at the clock while you finish washing the dishes that had been dirtied while prepping food.

It's not that you’re impatient – it’s just that Bucky is never late. Five or ten minutes, sometimes, sure. But never forty five minutes. He’d sent you a text only a few hours ago telling you that he’d be home at six o’clock, and the digital clock on the oven now reads 6:42.

You had tried to call him when you realized he was half an hour later, just to make sure that everything is alright, but his phone went straight to voicemail. You reminded yourself that he’s the worst at remembering to charge his phone, and that he is likely driving home and totally fine.

But despite how many times you’ve tried to assure yourself of this, you can’t stop yourself from pacing the kitchen floor or from glancing out the window at your driveway every other minute. You even opened said window and turned off the music you’d been listening to while preparing dinner so that you’d be able to hear the loud engine of his truck when he’s close to home.

Just when you’re about to click on his name in your call history again, you feel the familiar vibration of tires against gravel. By the time that you get to your kitchen window, his pick-up truck’s headlights are shining in the direction of the house. You exhale, relieved that you’d been overthinking. As you tend to do, when it comes to his safety.

You shove your feet into a pair of slippers, stepping outside to greet him from the front porch. Maybe it’s just residual nerves, but you instinctively lean against the bannister, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hops out of his truck and you immediately notice an expression of undeniable excitement on his face. It eases your lingering anxiety, knowing that he’s here and that he’s seemingly unharmed.

You just never fucking know with him.

“What’s got you so smiley?” You chuckle, walking down the few porch steps to greet him. He instantly opens his arms to you, and you practically jump off the last step into his embrace. Right away, you know that he’s been sparring with Sam. His t-shirt is slightly damp with perspiration and you can smell the freshly reapplied deodorant.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he murmurs in sincerity. “I was going to text you and but my phone is dead. Time got away from me while boxing with Sam…” he trails off, planting a kiss to your forehead. “And I may have had to make a quick stop somewhere on my way home.”

You pull back, looking at him quizzically. “Oh, yeah? Where’s that?”

He jerks his head in the direction of his truck with a mischievous grin. “Come and see for yourself.”

You follow him to the truck bed, your mouth immediately falling open at what lays inside.

“Is that--?”

“A baby cherry blossom tree?” He interrupts, clearly satisfied at successfully surprising you. “That it is. Stopped by the local plant nursery just to see if they happened to have any. This was the very last one.”

You’re silent. You recall the moment between you and Bucky beneath the cherry blossom trees in D.C. just a year ago, when he’d promised you as many of the trees as you like once you and him got a house with a nice yard, away from the city. You’d finally moved into your new house together just before the holidays, but between getting settled in, staying busy with work, and the weather simply being too cold to even thinking about flower blossoms until recently, the conversation about getting a cherry tree of your own had completely slipped your mind.

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his midsection again.

You feel the vibration radiate from his chest when he laughs.

“Of course I remember the first time a girl gave me flowers.”

thank you so much for reading, as always comments and reblogs are always so appreciated 💖🫶🏻 and once again i'm sorry for the repost!

[pixiexdusts-world]

Underneath the metal

Thunderbolts* Bucky Barnes x teammate!reader

Summary: After you’re injured on a solo mission, Bucky—your enemy-turned-teammate—steps in to take care of you, revealing feelings neither of you can ignore.

Word count: 1,965

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You and Bucky Barnes didn’t get along. From day one, it had been glares, snide remarks, and the kind of tension that made everyone else on the Thunderbolts team either exit the room or place bets.

He was brooding and cold. You were fire and sarcasm. Oil and water—if oil had a metal arm and a hundred-yard death stare.

Which is why it was almost funny—almost—that you got shot on a mission you’d begged to be sent on instead of him.

You’d been tracking a rogue scientist through an old Hydra compound in Slovakia, determined to bring him in without backup. But things went sideways fast. You barely made it out alive, collapsing just inside the hangar of the Thunderbolts’ safehouse, soaked in blood and pride.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You wake to pain.

A bright, aching throb in your side. Something tight around your ribs. The sterile smell of disinfectant.

And Bucky.

He’s sitting next to your cot, face grim, arms crossed. That stupid metal one glinting in the dim light.

You blink slowly. “If this is hell, it’s disappointingly sarcastic.”

His eyes shoot to yours. Blue and burning.

“You almost died,” he says, and it sounds more like an accusation than concern.

“Yeah, well. Almost doesn’t count.”

You try to sit up and immediately regret it. Your ribs scream in protest. Bucky’s hand shoots out to steady you, warm fingers surprisingly gentle as they press to your shoulder.

“Lie back.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

You glare. “Didn’t ask for your help.”

“No,” he snaps, “you didn’t. You just snuck off like an idiot and bled all over the compound.”

You open your mouth for a biting retort, but something in his expression stops you cold.

He looks—wrecked.

His jaw tight. Hands clenched. And his voice, when he speaks again, is low and raw.

“Who did this to you?”

The question hits harder than the bullet did.

You glance away, throat tight. “It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t.”

He leans forward now, and there’s no teasing in his face, no smug grin or sarcastic jab. Just worry. Sharp, undiluted worry.

“Tell me.”

You swallow. “It was one of the guards. Saw me before I saw him. Got a lucky shot. I handled it.”

His metal hand curls around the edge of the bed. “You didn’t handle it. You nearly bled out alone.”

“I didn’t want to risk dragging anyone else into it.”

He lets out a sound between a scoff and a growl. “So instead you’d rather die being a goddamn martyr?”

You bristle. “You don’t get to lecture me.”

“I do when I’m the one who carried you back.”

Your heart stutters. “What?”

“I found you in the hangar. Barely breathing. You passed out before you even saw me.”

He stares at you like he’s memorizing your face, as if making sure it’s really you.

“I thought you were gone.”

Something inside you cracks.

You’ve spent months trading barbs and pushing each other’s buttons, but right now, none of that matters. Not when he’s looking at you like you’re the last thing tethering him to this world.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “For going alone.”

He doesn’t reply right away. Just looks at you, searching your face.

Then, softer than you’ve ever heard him, he murmurs, “You scared the hell out of me.”

You blink, stunned.

And then, because the painkillers are still fogging your brain and your heart is wide open and aching, you whisper, “Why do you even care?”

He stands abruptly, pacing once before turning back. Frustration radiates off him.

“Because I do,” he says, exasperated. “Because somewhere between you calling me a fossil and nearly blowing my arm off during sparring, I started giving a damn.”

You stare at him, pulse hammering.

He rubs a hand down his face, eyes tired. “I know we’ve never been exactly… civil. But I’d rather take a thousand of your insults than lose you.”

Your throat tightens.

��I didn’t know you felt—”

“Well, now you do.”

His voice is quiet again. And something about his vulnerability—that bare, open honesty—feels heavier than anything Hydra ever put you through.

You shift in the bed, trying not to wince. “Can you… stay? Just for a bit?”

His gaze softens. “Yeah. Of course.”

He settles back into the chair beside you. For a moment, the room is still. The air between you has changed, no longer charged with animosity but with something tentative, delicate.

You break the silence with a smile. “Still hate you a little.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well. You’re a pain in my ass.”

But his fingers brush yours on the edge of the cot, feather-light. And you don’t pull away.

You let them rest there.

Warm. Steady.

Real.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Two Weeks Later

You’re back on your feet, still sore, still healing—but training again. Bucky watches you from across the gym, arms folded, pretending not to look. Which is a lie, because he hasn’t stopped looking since you stepped onto the mat.

You fake a punch toward the bag and glance at him. “You stalking me now, Barnes?”

He smirks. “Making sure you don’t get yourself killed again.”

You toss your gloves onto the bench and walk toward him, towel slung over your shoulder. He doesn’t move as you stop in front of him.

“You’re a terrible liar, too.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

You nod, stepping close. “You don’t want me alive just because we’re teammates.”

“No,” he agrees, voice low. “I don’t.”

You’re close enough now to feel the heat radiating off him.

“You gonna do something about it?” you murmur.

He hesitates, eyes flicking to your lips. “Only if you want me to.”

You lean in just a bit. “I do.”

His lips brush yours, tentative and reverent. It’s not a fireworks explosion. It’s something softer—like a wound finally healing.

And when he pulls back, forehead resting against yours, he whispers,

“Next time you run into danger without me, I’m chaining you to the jet.”

You grin. “Kinky.”

He groans. “Regret. Instant regret.”

But he’s smiling, and so are you. Because for the first time since this whole twisted Thunderbolts mission started, you’re not just surviving.

You’re living.

And maybe—just maybe—falling in love with the man you once thought was your greatest enemy.

[juicykvnture]

SAVE A HORSE (RIDE A COWBOY)

cowboy!DickGrayson x fem!Reader

tags: AFAB reader, fluff, kinda inexperienced reader, he talks ya through it, brief dry humping, PiV (cowgirl position bc duh), he’s kinda pussydrunk low-key

a/n: you could catch me in Vegas, catch me in Tokyo..

wc: 3k | masterlist

You're all the people talk about. No, seriously. They don’t shut up, not for one second.

After all, pretty woman like you, with that Gotham City accent and those pretty lashes? Everyone is just scrambling to get a piece of you. Even the fact that you're only here for a couple months doesn’t seem to deter them; it's a death sentence for their poor hearts. One call to your dad and every guy within a ten mile radius can forget about ever seeing daylight again.

Dick is so unbelievably grateful that he’s got a slight advantage. Not only does he know you from way back when, he’s also working at the ranch every single day, your encounters too perfect to be entirely coincidental.

Sure, people talk.

But talk don't stop him from straight up falling head over his horse - for you. He’s no better than anyone else, drawn in by your pretty face.

He’s never been fond of city folk really, but he ain’t one to judge. He can’t get you out of his mind, the glitter on lips and the way you say his name, in that accent of yours he claimed to always have no patience for, but you? He’d do anything to have your voice on repeat, climbing up to your window like a cliche romance movie, earning him a solid amount of bruises when he has to hop back out and hide in the bushes.

It’s not like he’s a stranger, far from it. Dick’s been working for your aunt and uncle since he was a boy. Practically grew up, here. He ain’t sure what possessed you to leave this little town behind, but he counts his lucky stars every night that you’re back, even if it’s only for the summer.

You two are content to steal glimpses of each-other, for now.

Okay, you’re really not.

You literally can’t help yourself, you have eyes, okay? He’s certainly easy on them. Nothing short of fucking gorgeous, actually. You’re sure he’d be a model if he lived where you do. He’s gorgeous, really gorgeous, Hollywood level gorgeous, with messy black hair tucked under his hat, and blue eyes that make your head spin.

You’re under strict instruction from your aunt and uncle not to bother the poor guy. Your parents sent you here to learn a couple life skills, not to harass the stable boy.

Does that stop you? Nuh uh. Not in the fucking slightest. Especially not when he catches you staring at him from across the yard, shooting a a little wink your way with a tip of his hat.

And the way he talks? Fuck, the way he talks. Is it weird that you wanna fuck his voice?

“You tryna crack your little head open, girlie?” He pipes up, lifting his hat from his head briefly as he stares up at you, perched up on a beam in one of the smaller barns on the farm, swinging your legs.

“With how bored I am, maybe.”

Your little comment earns a small huff, his hands resting on his hips.

“Sure would be sad if you jus’ ended up as a pretty stain.” He rolls his eyes, extending his hand out to you in hopes of getting you down from there, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

You simply shake your head, swinging your leg out a little more to try knock his hat off of his head, only to feel his hand wrap around your ankle with a small “tsk” under his breath.

You blink.

“You gonna let my leg go?”

“Depends, you gonna get down from there and lemme do my work?”

“No.”

He laughs lightly, squeezing your ankle.

“Then nope.” He murmurs under his breath, his eyes roaming over you before a small grin finds itself on his face.

He looks like a literal movie star or something, it’s so fucking unfair.

He nearly lets out another low whistle as he sees your underwear peaking through the gaps in your sundress.

“Yknow, I’m gonna be blunt,” he says, looking away to avoid the temptation of looking a little too long. “Those lacy things of yours are on full display there.”

“I see why I’m not allowed to talk to you, anymore.” You huff, closing your legs as you stare down at him, only to be met with his barely hidden smirk.

“Why? He hums, his fingers tracing the curve of her calf absentmindedly.

“You know why,”

He takes another step closer, moving his hand up to wrap around the back of your leg, just below your knee. “My bad, they don’t want you bothering the stable boy, hmm?”

“Course they don’t.” You mumble under your breath, your cheeks heating up as he moves closer towards you, basically standing between your thighs at this point.

“But I do find it kinda cute that you’ve been trying to talk to me, huh?” His hands move up your legs a little, resting on your thighs now, “even though you know you’re gonna get dragged back in the house if you’re caught.”

How hypocritical, he’s as down bad as you are.

Dragged back to the house is an understatement. Fuck, you’d probably get locked in your room like a nun until your aunt sends you back home to your parents to finish college.

“Don’t worry about me, you’d be fired,”

“Oh, I’d be fired, girlie?”

That little twang in his accent has you shifting your legs in vain. You’re not exactly able to move away from him with your thighs basically either side of his broad shoulders.

He moves his hands up until his thumbs are resting right on the sensitive skin just below the hem of your dress, so close to the lacy little panties he’s so desperate to see again.

“Oh darlin, I’m too good at what I do to get fired for something like this.”

His eyes stay on you longer than they should, not even bothering to hide the fact he’s just staring at your underwear.

“Now,” he breaks the silence, giving the side of your thigh a small smack, that lazy little smirk on his face again.

“Hop down, I’ve gotta lock up for the night.”

Who does this guy think he is?

“And if I don’t?” You arch a brow, giving his jaw a slight nudge with your knee.

He stares at you from under the brim of his hat for a moment, as he’s drumming his fingers against the soft skin of your thighs, tilting his head down to the coil of rope on his hip.

“You tell me.”

His boots hit your bedroom floor with a loud thump echoing through the room, fumbling to close the latch on your window.

“Dick!” You whisper-yell, fumbling to pull a cardigan over your slip in an effort to look at least somewhat decent, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey, girlie.” He just stares up at you with a slightly dazed grin, catching his hat before it fully slides down over his face, unable to hold back a low whistle at your current state of dress - undress, rather.

His gaze shamelessly runs over your body, taking in every part of you— your eyes puffy from sleep, the way the hem of your nightdress rides high on your thighs.

He’s half tempted to just get on his knees right now and literally worship the very ground you stand on.

He would, no question.

“You’re lucky no one shot you.” You grumble under your breath, your lips curled downward into a pout he finds almost too cute to be real, your feet stepping up onto the tips of his boots.

“Quit your huffin’, would ya?” He chuckles, taking off his hat, holding it to his chest, the other hand resting lightly on your hip, keeping you steady.

He has to, you’re still a lady at the end of the day and he was raised with his damn manners.

“Besides, I’d take a bullet for a pretty girl like you, any day of the week.”

You want to scoff, you want to call him stupid, you want to yell at him, perhaps give him an earful about how dumb he’s being as he gives your ass a small slap.

But before you can even think to protest, his fingers wrap around your wrist, all but dragging you over to your bed, your back hitting the plush mattress with a soft thump, his form hovering over you.

“What do you think you’re-“

He shuts you up swiftly. Tossing his hat off to let it hang from your bedpost, not wasting a second before his hand finds the back of your neck, grinning against your lips as he kisses you.

“Hush, I missed you.” He mutters in a soft huff, his thumb running over the back of your hand, feeling the smooth skin under his touch.

The porch light outside casts a dim glow through your window, your pretty nails catching his attention.

“Fresh manicure to spend your summer on a farm, eh?” He smirks against your mouth, his eyes drifting down to your hand, staring at them in curiosity.

“You like to keep your hands pretty, then?”

You roll your eyes slightly, reaching up to poke at the dimple in his cheek.

“You think it’s shallow, I assume?”

“No, you’re a pretty girl who likes pretty things.” He presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, carefully guiding it to rest on the exposed skin that showed between the top of his shirt and the hollow of his throat. With your palm flat against his skin, you could easily feel his pulse thrumming under your fingers - the action feeling unusually intimate.

“And pretty boys,”

That makes you huff a little bit beneath him, shifting around to no avail, one arm still braced beside your head as he lowers his face again, pressing a line of kisses from your collarbone up to your jaw.

His touch makes your skin heat up, and he’s no better. You can literally feel his heart hammering under your hand, your fingers curling into the collar of his shirt slightly.

“Take it off,” you murmur, giving the flannel a small tug, peering up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Of course, that further proves how whipped this man is for you. Just in case the way he’s all but pawing at your slip wasn’t enough, trying to push the silk up your hips while you fumble with the buttons on his shirt, his leg slotting in between your thighs.

The shirt soon hits the floor, as does his belt, near panting into each other's mouths, your hands tangling in his messy mop of black hair, tugging it every which way because close just isn’t close enough, the heat between your legs just keep getting worse, your panties almost sticking to your skin.

One of his large hands slides up to rest against your ribcage, letting out a small whistle at your evident lack of a bra.

“Lift up your hips, c’mon.”

His hands are on your hips before you can even blink, flipping both of you around, his breath heavy as he mumbles into your neck.

He’s telling you what to do, again. Now, he’d usually be met with a scowl from you or a half-assed shove to the jaw but you’re too distracted by the outline of his throbbing cock in his hastily unzipped jeans, pressed right against the inside of your thigh.

You can’t entirely focus with his fingers digging into your flesh, his hands less stable than they should be, shaking slightly as he grinds you down against him.

"I don’t think you realise how pretty you are," he’s panting, voice cracking slightly, running his hands over your body anywhere he can, crawling up under the silk till they’re cupping your tits, pinching slightly till you whine into his mouth.

You can feel your blood pumping in your ears, your head falling forward into his shoulder as you choke out some kind of slurred excuse about not really knowing what you're doing, your cheeks heating up more than should probably be humanely possible-

“Ride me.”

His words snap you out of your daze, your lips parting in a soft “huh?” as you stare up at him.

“You heard me, girlie.”

He doesn’t have it in him to repeat himself, really, giving your hip a little pinch for emphasis.

“You wanna ride me, don’t cha?”

You find yourself with your shaky legs spread wide across his manspreading lap, your slip bunched up around your torso, his strong grip on your hips to keep you steady as you keep squirming in his hold, one hand gently thumbing over the wet patch in your panties.

The fact your cunt is throbbing under his touch is enough confirmation, but he waits for you to nod.

“Yeah? Attagirl,”

Your hands are haphazardly tugging at the waistband of his boxers, almost frustrated as you scramble to pull them down, his happy trail making you groan under your breath.

His hands can’t stop squeezing your hips, and he’s doing his best to not hold you too tight, just try to take things slow for you, but it’s so damn hard.

He can’t help being more than a little impatient, pushing your underwear to the side to thumb at your clit, his heart slamming so hard he can feel it in his throat. His lip is almost bleeding from how hard he’s biting it to stay quiet, he can’t risk waking a single soul up, not at this hour.

“Fuckk, you’re wet,” he’s mouthing at your neck, pulling his hand back to your utter dismay, giving his leaking cock a few drawn-out strokes.

He was raised properly. He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t smoke, he doesn’t swear.

See what you’re doing to him?

The thought of it just makes you dig your nails into his broad shoulders, your thighs trembling slightly as you hover over him before you feel his hands move to hold your hips, an attempt at steadying you.

His hands guide you, slowly, lifting your hips a little higher, the throbbing head of his cock rubbing against your soaked slit.

He’s looking up at you through his lashes, gently shushing you.

“C’mon, cowgirl, you can take it, yeah?”

You manage a shaky nod, your nails still digging into his shoulders as he starts to lower you down, slowly letting your throbbing cunt sink down around this cock.

“Fuck,” He slurs out a shaky curse under his breath, his sweat-slicked hair clinging to his forehead already as his thumbs press into your hips, trying to coax you down a little further.

He’s not even close to being all the way inside you, but he’s already lost, almost completely lost, and he’s trying to focus as you tighten up around him, as he pushes himself in as slow as he can, inch by inch into your pussy.

You gasp, thighs trembling as you ease lower, every moment feeling impossibly fuller, tighter, more split-open than before.

“I know, baby, I know,”

He’s trying to soothe you as if he isn’t the one making you crazy, while his cock twitches inside you, shaky groans falling from his mouth as he starts to bounce you slightly, trying to get you to move your hips.

“Attagirl,” Dick pants out, his shaky hands moving down to your thighs, “roll your hips,”

You manage to find a rhythm, albeit a shaky one. His hands are still holding you, guiding you into a soft grind, tits bouncing gently with every movement of his hips from under you.

“Harder,” he chokes out, his hand reaching up to the back of your neck to pull you closer, slurring his words against your parted lips.

“C’mon, baby. S’all yours. Ride me, harder.”

How could you not?

With a shaky nod, start to lift up your hips, then drop back down. His cock drives in deep, resulting in you biting down on his shoulder.

Fuck, he’s never done a drug in his life but this must be what being high feels like.

“C’monnn,” his words are slurred now, desperate as he ruts his hips up into you, no matter how deep he is inside your cunt it just simply isn’t enough.

You oblige him with a shallow bounce - another. The wet slap of your pussy against his cock starts to pick up now, your muffled whines filthier, and you’ve got him shaking now, head falling back with your name tumbling from his lips in slurred pants like it’s the only word he knows.

“Yeah, fuck you’re so good at that, girlie - you’re so fucking pretty-“

Your whole body is shaking, bouncing, rocking harder on his thick cock, with every drop of your hips.

“Look at you, baby, so damn tight and hot and pretty for me. She’s my cock so good, you sound so good, you’re just so damn perfect, just so damn perfect,”

He’s just rambling.

You’re so out of it that you barely even notice that his cowboy hat is no longer hanging on your bedpost, instead, it’s on your head, slipping down lower over your eyes with every desperate thrust of his hips.

“Please, c’mon- cum for me, fuck,”

He’s a mess, whining into your mouth as his lips crash against yours again, a mess of spit and teeth and not much else, his fingers back on your hips, pressing into them hard. You’ve barely got it in you to keep your head up anymore, letting him take control.

You’re nodding frantically, and he’s slamming you down on him again and again. It’s like you’re blacked out for a moment, tears rolling down your face as you make a feeble attempt to kiss the corner of his mouth. He’s distracted, his tongue darting out to catch a stray tear on your cheek.

He absolutely loses it.

His hands find their way to your ass, lifting u you up like you simply weigh nothing to him, he’s slamming you down as he thrusts up into you—once, twice, three times, four - more than he can count-

You’re cumming. His eyes are rolling back, and so is he.

You collapse against his chest, your shoulders shaking, your pussy throbbing with his cum dripping down your thighs.

His eyes are wide, breath heaving as he presses a kiss to your shoulder, twitching inside you, no way he can let you go yet.

He has zero intentions of letting you go. Not now, not ever.

“I think y’fuckin’ broke me, cowgirl.”

a/n: something SLIGHTLY chill compared to my last few posts? 🧘🏻‍♀�� (not for long)

THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWS!! (130??) as always, thank you for reading!

Dick Grayson m.list

[angrythingstarlight]

Oh oh oh!

Will bucky have a special golden egg (larger than the rest of the eggs) that has cash 💵 inside instead of candy? Who ever finds it first gets to keep the cash! 🐇🐣

Considering this is Bucky we're talking about, all the easter eggs had one of the three : cash, jewelry or candies.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumblebee.

A/N: Easter fic teaser.

"Ooh monies," Bee cheers, cracking the easter egg open before carefully closing it and dropping it in her basket. A few seconds later. "Ooh pwetty rings."

Its been ten minutes of this and she responds the same way each time she get new "treasures".

Bucky went overboard and had the backyard covered in easter eggs of various sizes and colors. So many were scattered between the back door and the edge of the yard that Bee was already on her second basket.

"You know it's not really a hunt if she's surrounded by eggs, Bucky." You lean against his chest, watching with amusement as Bee and Frankie swap eggs and immediately stumble across five more.

Bucky hums in his throat, placing one hand in his pocket. "You didn't specify how challenging it had to be so it was left up to me. You know I don't like my girls having to work too hard."

He catches the glimpse of a smile fighting it's way past your lips even as you roll your eyes.

"Besides with her occupied that gives me time to give you your present," he teases, pausing to softly kiss your neck. "Unless you don't want it," his voice skated across your skin.

You mull your response, temptation sweeping through your veins, calling you to give in. Your eyes follow the toddlers roaming the backyard, gazes laser focused on the dark green grass beneath them. Bee leans over, grabbing two lavender eggs, her growing collection almost tipping out of her basket.

"Lookit pink stawburts. My favorites," Bee says, jumping up and down, like she doesn't have a basket full of her favorite candies sitting on one of the benches. "What you get Frankie?"

Bucky hums again, drawing your attention back to him. "I can always take it back."

You scoff. This man has never taken a gift back. He's hidden new necklaces in your vanity, given Bee matching items so you couldn't say no to whatever he splurged on, left things in your purse and have the audacity to look shocked and confused when you asked him how they got there.

But take back a gift? He doesn't know how to do that.

"Let me see it, Barnes," you reply, heart warming when you feel him smile against your neck.

"Anything for you. Malyshka," he murmurs in return, revealing his hand, a charm bracelet dangles between his fingers. A little chubby bumblebee, an easel, the Barnes family emblem and a pair of miniature wedding rings are nestled between the easter themed charms. It's a gorgeous piece that just so happens to match the dress you're wearing.

"It's beautiful," you say, lifting your wrist. He closes the delicate clasp with ease, so used to putting jewelry on your body.

"Yes you are." This time you can't stop the grin from pulling at your lips even when you see him smirk. He's good and he knows you know how good he is.

For a few moments, the two of you stay like that. Your newest charm bracelet warm on your skin, a gentle breeze fluttering the bottom of your dress and Bucky's chin on your shoulder, the two of you watching Bee and Frankie run around the yard finding brightly colored eggs, excited for each one.

Bucky would have never guessed what would happen next. Neither would you.

[littlelamy]

       for some reason you don’t even remember calling him. one minute you were sucking down your third spiked strawberry snowcone—because the pink ones were your favorite, and also because they went down too easy and tasted like nothing except melted popsicle—and the next, your head was spinning, heels were off, and your phone was pressed to your ear, rafe’s name glowing on the screen.

“bun?”

you must’ve got his voicemail the first time. because now, on the second try, he answered.

you hiccuped. “hi baby.”

“where are you?”

you giggled, “at the bunny barn!”

he tries to remember where you told him you were going before you left earlier, “you mean your sorority house?”

“uh-huh,” you slurred, flopping back onto a bean bag chair that someone must’ve dragged into the yard. the sky was spinning or maybe your tummy. “we’re celebratin’. spring..something. i dunno. my sisters said i had to drink because i’m a legacy and legacies are fun!”

rafe exhaled hard on the other end. you could picture him already—shirtless, pissed, leaning over his steering wheel with that annoyed twitch in his jaw. “are you inside or outside?”

you squinted. “both..i think i’m outside the inside. the grass is cold, but my toes are pink.”

“stay put..i’m coming.”

“you’re coming?”

you gasped, “like right now?”

“yes, right now.”

you clutched the phone tighter, legs kicking a little. “ohmygod you’re my hero. you’re gonna rescue me like a hot knight with pretty eyes..rafe?”

“yeah?”

“don’t hang up. m’gonna forget where i am if i close my eyes.”

“i’m staying right here, bunny. just talk to me.”

“okay,” you breathed. “um. i saw a duck. it was waddling near the keg. i named him tater tot. do you think he wants a pledge pin?”

you don’t remember what you said after that, only the smell of jungle juice, the imaginary feel of warm grass on your thighs, and the sound of rafe’s voice cussing someone out in the distance.

“bunny,” someone's rough and sexy voice growls out. you blinked, slowly opening your eyes. rafe was standing above you, chest rising and falling under a thin white tee, hair messed up like he’d driven with the windows down. he crouched beside you, knelt on the lawn, scowling so hard and beautiful. “you called me drunk,” he said, low. “you never call drunk.”

“i misssed you,” you whispered, arms stretching up like a little kid who wanted to be carried. he didn’t hesitate and scooped you up, tucked your face into his shoulder as he started walking back toward his truck.

“i only had four drinks,” you mumbled.

“i can tell.”

“they were pink and sparkly.”

“of course they were.”

you nuzzled into his neck. “are you mad?” he didn’t answer for a second.

then mumbled out, “i’m not mad.” he pauses, a lazy smile spread on your face, but the smile is gone in an instant. “i’m fucking furious.”

you whined, “aw rafe, don’t yell at me.”

“i’m not yelling.”

“you’re growling. your mad growl.”

“you called me at midnight, drunk and alone. barefoot in the fucking grass with god-knows-who leering at you. what if i hadn’t picked up?”

you sniffled, “but you did.”

“yeah,” he muttered, setting you down gently in the passenger seat. “i did.” your thighs stuck to the leather. your short dress had bunched up even higher. you tried to tug it down, but your coordination was shot.

“baby,” rafe warned, already buckling you in, “if you flash me one more time in this dress, i’m putting you over my knee the second we get home.”

you pouted, “i just wanted to see my sisters.”

“and now i’m seeing way too much of you.” you hiccuped instead of replying.

he climbed in on his side, started the engine, and peeled out of the lot with one hand on the wheel, the other gripping your thigh. he was glowing under the bright dash lights. jaw clenched, knuckles tight, mouth twitching every time you made a little drunken noise. even though he's gorgeous, and you wanted to cry.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered. he didn’t look at you, but his thumb did stroked your thigh.

“you should’ve called me sooner.”

you blinked, “so you aren’t mad?”

“i was never mad at you,” he snapped. “i’m mad you were out here without me. mad you thought it was okay to party at some house full of girls in tiny dresses without backup.”

you blinked down at your tiny dress. “do you not like this one?”

his hand slid higher. “i love it.”

you smiled, “then why are you being so grouchy?”

“because i spent twenty minutes picturing you passed out on the lawn while frat boys took pictures.”

you giggled, “nooo, i was fine. tater tot was guarding me.”

“who the fuck is tater tot?”

“the duck.” he stared at you as you grinned. teeth still pink from the snowcones consumed throughout the event.

he groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

you leaned over, kissed his shoulder. “but i’m cute.”

“dangerously.”

he carries you inside when you get home. you protest a little, mumbling something about being able to walk, but then your ankle wobbles and he says “uh-huh, bunny, sure,” and keeps carrying you bridal style all the way up to your room.

he sets you down on the bed, starts unlacing your sandals.

you stare down at him, in awe. “you’re so good to me,” you whisper.

“not good,” he mutters.

“yes, you are. you take care of me even when i’m annoying.” he pulls off the second sandal, tosses it aside. you tug his shirt. “rafey?”

“yeah?”

“will you stay?”

he doesn’t hesitate, “yeah, baby.” he helps you out of the dress. wipes off your sticky makeup with warm water and one of your strawberry-shaped cotton pads. pulls one of his old t-shirts over your head and tucks you in.

he’s quiet the whole time until you’re curled up, half-asleep, whispering into the collar of his shirt. “i didn’t kiss anyone.”

he stiffens, “what?”

“at the party. i didn’t flirt. i didn’t… i mean, some people were being silly, but i just waited for you..like a good girl.”

his hand strokes your hair, “i know.”

you peek up. “you do?”

he nods, “mhm you’re mine,” he says. “even when you’re drunk and stupid and barefoot in the grass. still mine.”

you smile. “even when i smell like jungle juice?”

“especially then.”

❤︎ tags below

@rafesbabygirlx @namelesslosers @drewsephrry @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @rafedaddy01 @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lil-sparklqueen @rafessweetgirl @esquivelbianca @p45510n4f4shi0n @palomavz @cokewithcameron @donaldsonsgirl @yncoded @lilbunnysfics @solaceluna @icaqttt @alphabetically-deranged @bevstofu @wintercrows @emluvsuxo @rafestoothbrush @cadhlabear @st8rkey

[clockwayswrites]

I was well bribed by @luckeykasper as you can here in this amazing post, so have a tibit of Damian's lecture to Jerry that happened off screen in the last part.

-

Damian, not that he would ever admit it to anyone, was mildly startled to see Daniel headed his way across the Manor yard with speed. It simply wasn't like Daniel, in Damian’s experience. The reason for it became clear a moment later as Jerry rounded a bush with a loud warble.

“Damian,” Daniel said with relief. “Ah, your turkey, Jerry, seems to be… erroneously enamored with me.”

Damian looked at Jerry, who strutted towards them in full display mode. He made an imposing figure what with the size of him while all puffed up. Damian didn't blame Daniel for stepping back further. To his credit, Daniel stayed between Damian and Jerry despite his obvious warmness about the bird.

There was no need for the defense, though, and Damian stepped forward with his arms crossed. “Jerry! Behave yourself this instant.”

Jerry paused and then let out softer warble. He edge a little to the side and craned his neck forward towards Daniel.

“No,” Damian said firmly.

Jerry did not listen and strutted forward once more.

Damian rolled his eyes and marched towards the poultry. “I said behave, Jerry! Your advances are clearly unwanted and so are not appropriate for a turkey of your stature and class.”

Jerry stopped in front of Damian. He still tried to peer around him at Daniel, but his bravado had wavered.

“We are Wayne's and therefore beyond making such a show of yourselves as to chase someone about the yard! You are not exempt from that simply because you are an animal.”

Jerry's large fan of tail feathers started to droop and fold in on itself.

“Perhaps you should end your walk and return inside,” Damian said to Daniel. “I will see Jerry back to the barn.”

“Of course there's a barn,” Daniel said to himself. “Right, thank you, Damian. I'm sorry about the trouble.”

“Hardly your fault,” Damian assured him and led Jerry off with a little nudged to the bird. Quietly, he added, “Seriously, Jerry. You must desist. Father has become smitten with Daniel, and we must give him time to act.”

[theonottsbxtch]

LONG WAY ‘ROUND | MV1

an: oh it’s been a long time since i’ve done a smau, i basically forgot how to do them. enjoy a silly little smau for cowboy!max and rancher!reader. i hope you don't think this was too rushed, this was requested.

faceclaim: pinterest girlies

yourusername posted on their story

maxverstappen1 posted on their story

Present day:

You hadn’t wanted to come back home, but you knew your father would be turning in his grave if he knew you'd sold the land.

That land, sun-scorched, temperamental, and stubborn as the people who worked it, was all he ever cared about. And somehow, despite years away, despite your big girl job in the city and your very expensive flat that barely got any sun, you couldn’t quite stomach the idea of letting strangers tear it up for cattle feed or golf courses or whatever else people did out here now.

So you came back.

The barn was half-falling in, the fences were on their last legs, and the tractor — God bless it — hadn’t run properly since you were nineteen. You posted about it, of course. Ranch life: 1, me: 0. A little self-deprecating humour never hurt. Not that you expected him to see it.

But Max always did have a talent for showing up when you least wanted him to.

He’s always been a cowboy, even back when the rest of the lads in school were chasing trainers and mobile phones. Wore that damn hat like it was welded on, swaggered through the halls like he owned them. Infuriatingly smug. Always had hay in his hair, some smart-arse remark at the ready, and girls orbiting him like he was God’s gift. Not that you cared. Much.

He’d helped your dad out now and again, even when you were off pretending you were too grown-up for all this. Fixed a fence here, delivered feed there. Your dad liked him. Sometimes you think he liked Max more than he liked you.

And that? That pissed you off more than you cared to admit.

So when Max posted "got the baby running like it’s brand new” with a photo of your tractor on your land you nearly threw your phone across the yard.

You didn’t ask for help.

He gave it anyway.

Typical.

And no, you don’t need him. You don’t want him.

text messages between max and yn

yourusername posted

liked by maxverstappen1, userone, usertwo, schoolfriend and 12 more

guess the gate fixed itself then.

tap to load more comments

schoolfriend1: oh my god, you're back!

yourusername: unwillingly, but we should meet for coffee!

schoolfriend1: please!

auntie: ranch looks good, pops would be proud

yourusername: he's laughing up at me from hell, he knew this would be my nightmare

auntie: you love it anyway, good things will come from this darling

maxverstappen1: must have been faries. hot ones.

yourusername: unfortunately for me when i was looking out the barn i happened to see an ugly troll

maxverstappen1: wish i'd known you were watching, the shirt would have come off much earlier.

yourusername posted

liked by schoolfriend1, userone, auntie, maxverstappen1 and 7 more

don’t remember inviting anyone in, but okay.

tap to load more comments

schoolfriend1: 👀 oh??

yourusername: apparently all the shit here is broken.

auntie: the boots don’t lie

maxverstappen1: next time i’m coming in for pie

yourusername: next time i’m changing the locks

maxverstappen1: then i’ll come in through the window

yourusername: you’re not romantic, you’re a raccoon

yourusername posted to their story

messages between yn and max

yn's porch, sunset

You weren’t expecting him to actually show up.

But twenty minutes later, as promised, Max pulled up in his dust-covered truck, one hand out the window, a six-pack dangling from the other like some twisted cowboy peace offering.

He didn’t bother knocking. Just let himself round the porch, boots thudding slow against the old wood, like he’d done it a thousand times before. You were sat on the steps, pie dish balanced on your lap, sleeves rolled up, sweat still clinging to the back of your neck from the day’s heat.

"Figured you'd be out here," he said, handing you a bottle and sitting beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You always this cocky?"

He grinned, cracking open his own beer. "Only when I know I'm right."

You didn’t answer, just tipped the bottle to your lips and looked out at the land. Golden light was bleeding into the hills, all syrupy and slow, and for a moment you let the quiet fill the air between you. The kind of quiet that only ever settled in right before the cicadas started their song.

He leaned back on his elbows. “Pie smells good.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, but passed him a slice anyway.

You didn’t talk much, at first. Just chewed and sipped and watched the sky change colours. But the beers loosened your limbs and somewhere between the fourth and fifth bottle, you found yourselves laughing. Proper laughing. About school, mostly, who got locked up, who married who, the time he nearly blew up the chemistry lab because he thought acetone was flammable (it was).

Then it went quiet again. Not uncomfortable. Just... a shift.

Max looked over at you, eyes soft in the low light. His voice dropped, all low drawl and something you couldn’t quite name.

"What’ve I done wrong, sweetheart?"

You blinked at him. “What d’you mean?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “You always come at me with your fists up. Like I’ve stepped outta line and you’re just waitin’ to swing.”

You tried to laugh it off. “Old habits die hard.”

He didn’t buy it. “Tell me the truth.”

You looked down at your bottle. Picked at the label.

“…I think I was jealous of you.”

Max sat up straighter. “Jealous? Of me?”

You nodded once. Quiet.

“You and Dad got on like a house on fire,” you said, voice softer now. “He trusted you with things he never trusted me with. And you always knew what you wanted. I was out here tryin’ to be good enough for a man who never really said I was. And there you were, breezin’ in like you belonged.”

He didn’t say anything.

“…And I might’ve had a crush on you. In school.”

That earned a pause. And then, of course, you backtracked.

“That was the alcohol talking. That wasn’t true.”

He tilted his head, grinning like he knew better. Like he’d known the whole damn time.

“Pity,” he said, voice like melted butter, “’cause the first time I ever swung by your father’s, it wasn’t for a job.”

You looked up at him, heartbeat suddenly loud.

He leaned in a little, real slow. Like he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to get. But still close enough for you to smell his cologne, all cedar and smoke.

“I asked him what kinda man a gorgeous daughter like his would go to.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence.

“And he told me,” Max added, voice low and smile soft, “you’d never be interested in someone like me. Said you were smart. Ambitious. Goin’ places.”

You swallowed.

“…You never said anything.”

“I didn’t want to get in your way.”

He reached out, thumb brushing over your knuckles where your hand rested on your knee.

“But if I’d known you were lookin’ back all that time…”

You didn’t let him finish.

You just looked at him, heart all tangled up, and whispered, “Max…”

You said his name like it meant something. Like it was more than just a name. Like maybe it was a memory. Or a promise.

His hand was still on yours, thumb brushing lazy circles across your skin. You should’ve pulled away. You didn’t.

“I meant it,” he said quietly. “Every word.”

You didn’t say anything. Just stared at him. At his sunburnt cheeks, at the faint scar on his jaw you remembered from a bar fight back in Year 11, at the curve of his mouth when it wasn't trying to be cocky.

He laughed under his breath. “You’ve gone quiet, darlin’. That usually means I’ve stepped in it.”

You shook your head, voice small. “No. I just… I don’t know what to do with this.”

“Start with tellin’ me if I can kiss you.”

You looked at him, properly looked at him. The boy who used to drive you mad. The man who knew your land better than you did. The one who kept showing up without ever asking for thanks. The one who saw you, really saw you, long before you were ready to be seen.

And then you nodded.

He didn’t lunge. Didn’t grab. Just leaned in like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like kissing you was something he'd always known how to do, he just hadn’t been allowed to yet.

It was slow. Warm. The kind of kiss that crept under your ribs and made a home there. No fireworks. No dramatic score. Just his lips, his breath, his hands gentle against your cheek.

And when he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, his voice was barely more than a whisper.

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

You smiled, lips still brushing his. “And you’re not?”

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by yourusername, schoolfriend1, schoolfriend2, bestfriend

got paid with a kiss this time. think i did somethin’ right.

tap to load more comments

schoolfriend1: son of a bitch did it six years later

localtownie: knew it. been waitin’ on this since the fair 3 summers ago when she yelled at you over the microphone and you smiled like a damn fool

maxverstappen1: who woulda known

yourusername: don't get used to it

maxverstappen1: too late, already calling it wages

yourusername: pretty sure that's called prostituon bud

maxverstappen1: whatever you wanna call it sweetheart

auntie: can't tell if her pop will be rolling around in his grave or celebrating

bestmate: im horrified she'd choose you

yourusername: yeah so am i

the end.

@lilorose25 @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @n0vazsq @dying-inside-but-its-classy @carlossainzapologist @hzstry8 @oikarma @amyelevenn @iamred-iamyellow @obxstiles @iimplicitt

[georgiayardbarns]

Yard Barns and More

Yard barns and more offer a range of solutions to meet all your storage and outdoor needs. From traditional barns to modern designs, these structures are perfect for organizing tools, equipment, or recreational items. Made with durable materials, they withstand various weather conditions while maintaining their aesthetic appeal. Customizable options allow you to create a space that fits your property’s style and functionality. Whether you need a storage shed, workshop, or playhouse, yard barns and more have you covered.

[navybrat817]

You're a Firework

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You're all set to watch fireworks with the gang and Bucky can't keep his hands to himself. Word Count: Over 2k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, semi-public sexy times, pet names, inner monologue, established relationship, humor, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I KNOW it's Steve's birthday, but my muse demanded Stud and Smartie. ❤️ I'm so sorry, lovelies. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“You know,” Natasha began as she handed you a drink. “You and Bucky could've had your wedding today. No one would have objected.”

“With Steve's birthday right around the corner? And take away from Sam’s amazing barbeque? No way,” you smiled, stepping out of the way as Clint walked by with sparklers in each hand. You refused to take attention away from either of them. “I’m glad we’re all hanging out though.”

Today was a good day. Not only was the weather as close to perfect as it could get, not too warm or too cold, it was a chance to get together and mingle since everyone had a few days off. Between the sunshine, food, and games, the gang had a lot of fun. You imagined your wedding reception would be fun, too.

Maybe the two of you could even have sparklers to celebrate, if only to entertain Clint.

“Bucky called you his wife earlier,” the redhead commented.

“He did?” You smiled, your heart swelling.

“He did. When you beat Sam at horseshoes, he looked right at Steve and said, ‘that’s my wife' with a huge smile on his face.”

Yeah, I am. Almost.

You nearly swooned, giving your fiancé a glance as he set his chair by the fire pit. “And that’s my husband.”

Natasha lightheartedly rolled her eyes and nudged you. “Better go and join him then. The fireworks are going to start soon,” she said, heading to her seat beside Clint. The town was shooting off fireworks in the nearby park, but you all decided it was better to hang back. The yard was a great spot to view them and no one had to worry about the crowd.

“Be right there,” you said, shivering as a light breeze rolled in. Sam had the fire going, but you hadn't realized how chilly it was now that it was dark. Grabbing your blanket from your bag nearby, you also realized as you walked over to the gang that there wasn't a place for you to sit. Bucky looked your way with a gentle smile and patted his thigh before you could ask if there was an extra chair available inside. You caught a glimpse of heat in his eyes as you made your way closer.

You loved that look.

“Is that my seat?” You asked.

“This could be your seat.” Bucky pointed at his face as you bit your lip. If everyone wasn’t around, you’d consider it. “But this one might be more comfortable to watch the fireworks,” he added, patting his massive thigh again.

His face. His thigh. Both were incredible places to sit.

“Yeah, comfortable. That’s the word,” you teased, shrieking as he dragged you onto his lap once you were within reach. You were lucky you didn't spill your drink. “Easy, tiger.”

He growled and nuzzled your neck once you situated yourself and placed your drink the cup holder. “This tiger will also keep you warm,” he promised.

“Aww. You two are just the cutest,” Sam said, swigging his beer with a chuckle when Bucky huffed.

“Yeah, we are. And in case you forgot, my girl kicked your ass earlier. Beauty, brains, and brawn,” he boasted. You didn’t have to look back to see the smug smile on his face. “Proud of you.”

I will not get giddy or aroused from that praise.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll get you next time,” Sam scoffed, looking over at you with a smile to let you know it was in good fun. He was a good guy, like Steve. You hoped they each found someone who made them feel the way Bucky made you feel.

“Or she’ll kick your ass again,” Bucky said without skipping a beat.

Oh, boys. So endearing. So competitive.

“Enough of that. Sam, I’m pretty sure I got lucky and I’d love a rematch. Stud, you just concentrate on keeping me warm,” you teased, draping the blanket over both of you. His embrace was always warm. “Surprised we don't have s’mores.”

“Those are for after the fireworks,” Steve said from the other side of you.

You smiled over at him before tilting your head back to gaze at Bucky. You weren't sure if the guys did it on purpose, but they each wore the same tight fitting T-shirt in patriotic colors. They all looked handsome, but your man looked look sex on legs. The love of your life would always turn your head.

“Not for us,” Bucky said, placing a kiss on your shoulder as his hand rested possessively on your hip. “We’re going to bed.”

You giggled and snuggled back against him when the rest of the gang protested. “But what if I want a s'more?”

“I’ll personally make you one and feed it to you in bed,” he half growled.

“You’re really not going to stay up with us?” Steve asked, a knowing look on his face.

“Oh, I’m sure something will get up,” Natasha deadpanned, making everyone laugh. She wasn't wrong.

“On your birthday, we’ll stay up as late as you want. Tonight, we’re watching the fireworks and going to bed,” Bucky grumbled, brushing a finger over your engagement ring. “Unless you really want to stay out here.”

You giggled again. Bucky had to share your attention with everyone all day and was still sharing it now. He was more than ready to have you all to himself. You understood the feeling.

“I’m fine with going inside after the fireworks. We’ll check on the cats and then go to bed,” you assured him.

With everyone drinking, you all decided it was better to crash in the same place instead of going home. Neither of you wanted to leave Alpine or Soot at your place though in case any neighbors decided to shoot fireworks off the roof, so you brought them over. They had a space set up under the guest bed with some white noise to help block out some of the sound. Anything to help put them at ease.

Bucky tilted your chin a bit more to place a soft kiss on your lips, the tension crackling like the fireworks had already started. “Thank you, Smartie.”

“You’re welcome, Stud.”

As if on cue, the show began.

You looked up at the sky in awe as the first firework rushed into the air. An explosion followed by a vivid display of light, they were like rainbows in the night brightening the darkness with color. They were beauty and wonder, a form of art that faded almost as quickly as it was created. Watching with loved ones made it all the more special.

You tilted your head and smiled when you caught Bucky staring back at you. “Why aren't you looking at the sky?”

“Why aren't you?” He teased, bumping his nose against yours. “Besides, I don't need to watch the sky when I have the most beautiful view right here.”

Your cheeks warmed. So did your heart. “You flatter me so,” you whispered, looking back at the sky again.

Bangs, crackles, and thunderous sounds continued to fill the air with the gorgeous display. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You almost regretted not having your phone beside you so you could take some pictures.

Though you likely would’ve dropped it when you felt Bucky’s hand move from your hip to under your skirt.

“Stud?” You gasped, quickly looking around as his hand trailed up your thigh. No one was looking your way. They were too occupied with the fireworks.

“Just keep looking at the sky, Smartie,” he said against your ear, your legs opening more as his hand found its prize. “And I'll keep touching you.”

Oh, fuck.

You shivered in his grasp despite the blanket and his body providing more than enough heat. His touch was possessive yet tender and you could feel your body turn to jelly as he rubbed you through your panties. You tried to concentrate on the colors above you, the material damp from his expert touch. And you couldn't stop your heart from pounding in your ears, adding the explosive noises around you.

More fireworks went off, but you blocked out the “oohs” of your friends as he pushed the wet fabric aside. “Bucky,” you whimpered, biting your tongue when he traced a finger along your slick pussy.

“I’ve wanted to touch you all day,” he whispered against your neck, teasing your folds. Your hole clenched before the fingertip even touched it. “I can't believe you’re mine. Keep asking myself how I got so lucky.”

I’m the lucky one.

His finger breached you, making you gasp and grip his arm. His palm pressed against your clit and you couldn’t help but push your hips down, seeking out more friction. You wanted to take care of him, too. Maybe when the two of you went to bed…

Another finger slipped in, curling and thrusting quickly. If you were at home, he’d take more time in taking you apart. He wouldn't stop until you soaked the sheets and even then he might keep going. And he'd make sure you were a quivering mess, mewling and begging for mercy or reprieve.

“Have I told you today how much I love you, babydoll?” He asked, static pleasure coursing through your body as you climbed higher.

Orgasms were a lot like fireworks. Some tumbled slowly in the sky, like a slow fire that coursed through your veins. Others exploded, so large and powerful that you couldn’t keep the sounds of awe in. Then there were small bursts, the ones that got the job done and still felt good.

You wondered what kind of orgasm Bucky would give you tonight.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, colors dancing behind your eyes as you shut them.

You wanted to shout how much you loved Bucky Barnes. You wanted your love for him to burst through the sky like a shooting star. But you didn’t need to put on a show for him to know you were his. He knew you belonged to him.

But you’d still have to try and keep quiet as you clenched around his fingers.

“Please,” you whispered, ready to fall over the edge as his palm rubbed your clit again.

Your head turned and his mouth slanted against yours to swallow down your moan. “Open your eyes,” he whispered, his fingers curling once more as you listened to his command and watched the colors light up his blue eyes. “And come for me.”

Your walls pulsed as the finale began, your cry drowned out by the rapid booms. Your wetness coated his fingers, every nerve cell vibrating as brilliant hues illuminated the sky. The hues swirled in your dizzying head, too. You were flying. Sinking. Floating.

You were a firework.

“Beautiful,” Bucky whispered, guiding you back to him.

Your body stayed lax against his, wishing he didn't have to take his fingers out. “You’re beautiful,” you exhaled, watching him subtly bring his hand to his mouth to taste your release. “Menace,” you added.

This man. I really just let him finger bang me with everyone sitting around.

“Yeah, I am,” he smiled, placing another kiss on your lips as Steve and Sam got up. Natasha and Clint were already up, too, to get more drinks.

If anyone knew what happened, they didn't draw any attention to it.

“Those were even better than last year,” Sam said.

“They were. And now we can have s'mores,” the blonde smiled, stopping to look at his best friend. “I thought you two were going to bed.”

“In a minute,” Bucky said, shifting his hips under yours to let you feel how hard he was. Getting you off turned him on. “Think I need to relax a bit more.”

Yeah, so no one sees you walking around with a raging hard-on.

You wiggled your hips, smiling when your fiancé quietly groaned. “Yeah. Relax,” you sighed, feeling him squeeze your thigh in a warning.

Well, he wanted your attention before and now he had it.

And I’ll make him see fireworks before the night is over, too.

Stud and Smartie need to talk to my muse and make sure Steve has a good birthday. 🥰 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[simplyholl]

The Newlywed Game

Summary: You’re forced to play The Newlywed Game with your ex situationship.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader

Warnings: Angst. Smuttish, but not my usual descriptive smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist here

“I can’t.” That’s all the explanation you got when Bucky ended your situationship. You were friends with benefits for almost a year. The only rule he had was don’t fall in love. He had too much baggage and he never wanted a family. He didn’t want anyone to depend on him.

You couldn’t blame him, he was traumatized by Hydra. Trapped inside his own body for decades, he was afraid it could happen again. You jumped in head first with him anyways. You were in his bed after every mission, every meeting, every day. You basically lived in his room, not that he would ever admit that. Then one rainy afternoon, you knocked on his door like always. Except this time, he didn’t pull you into his warm embrace.

He moved out of the way so you could come in, and immediately you knew something was wrong. You reached for him, ready to console him, desperate for his touch. He had just finished a mission with Sam and he’d been gone for two weeks. You missed him, and he was usually so excited to see you.

When you placed your hand on his cheek, rubbing the scruff that had grown while he was gone, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist removing it. “I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was so low you could barely understand. Your eyes narrowed at his words. “Have I done something wrong?”

“This has gone on for longer than it should have. I can’t let it anymore.” Your throat tightens, but you refuse to cry in front of him. You walked out and your relationship with him was never the same. You didn’t hang out anymore.

When you were alone, he would leave. He didn’t sit beside you during the Friday night movie. He didn’t choose you for his partner on game night. The other Avengers didn’t know for sure that you were hooking up. You hid it pretty well. They had their suspicions, but neither of you ever confirmed it.

Tony called everyone to the back yard. “What’s all this?” Steve asks, pointing to the stage he had set up. “It’s my anniversary tomorrow and Pepper said she always wanted to play the Newlywed Game. So I had this built so we could play.”

“That’s great, Tony. But who are you all going to play with? There’s four set up’s and only two couples.” Steve gestures to Wanda and Vision. “Thought about that and Cap, you and Natasha are going to play and….” He looks at the whole team, everyone looking in different directions trying not to make eye contact. Except for Sharon, who hung around a lot lately. She was getting closer to Bucky, obviously wanting Tony to choose them. You roll your eyes. “Barnes and Y/N. There now we have all our couples. I’m going to go get Pep, you guys take your spots.”

You look at Bucky,but he’s busy talking to Steve about how ridiculous it is. You hear Sharon agree that he should have chosen someone else. When Pepper comes in, she excitedly claps her hands together. She points to the other teams, “You’re going down!” She laughs, but you can’t help but protest, “This is rigged! You guys and Wanda and Vision are the only real couples!! How is anyone else supposed to win?”

Tony shoots you a death glare but answers, “Cap and Natasha have definitely bumped uglies before. And you and Barnes are close friends. I thought that would make it more fair. But, I do expect to win.” You cross your arms, but accept his answer. Bucky finally looks at you, but it’s not friendly.

Sam comes out, wearing a suit Tony made him wear to host. “I’ll explain the rules. You all have a whiteboard, marker, and eraser. I will ask a question and you will write your answer on your boards. If your answer matches your partner’s you get a point. I’ll eliminate one couple each round until the final tie breaker.”

You take a deep breath. This is hell. But you do know Bucky better than anyone, so as long as he didn’t ask any crazy questions, you would be fine. “First question. Where is the craziest place you and your partner have had sex?” You freeze. Of course Stark had these wild questions. If you both answered the same, everyone would know that you had hooked up.

You think about lying, but decide the ball should be in Bucky’s court. You’ll answer correctly, and if he doesn’t you’ll know he doesn’t want anyone to know. You quickly scribble your answer, waiting on Sam to call on you. Tony’s answer is Steve’s room and Pepper’s matched. Everyone laughed while Steve said Tony has to pay for his room to be deep cleaned.

Wanda and Vision both answer “in the air.” Natasha and Steve said a table in the meeting room. You turn your board to reveal your answer and Bucky shows his. You look and see that he has answered correctly. “The quinjet?! Damn y’all are nasty!” Sam laughs.

You’re taken back to that moment. You, Bucky, and Bruce were on your way back from a mission. Bruce was driving the quinjet, but activated the mode Tony installed for breaks. As soon as he started snoring, Bucky led you to the bathroom. He took you against the wall, metal hand across your mouth to stifle your moans. It was one of the hottest things you’d ever done. Your suit clung to you in the worst ways after that. His cum dripping down your legs, it was nearly impossible to take off.

The others look at each other in surprise. Scott yells “I told you they were hooking up. No one believed me!” Sharon looks at Bucky so harshly that if looks could kill, he’d be dead. He just shrugs his shoulders. Of course, he would be hooking up with her. Why wouldn’t he? She was pretty and it had been three months since he ended things with you.

The next question was “Who hogs the covers more?” Everyone got it right except for Steve and Natasha. She said that wasn’t a fair question because they never actually slept when they were together. The round continued with four more questions. At the end, Steve and Natasha were eliminated because they had the least amount of points. The rest of you were tied.

“What is your partner’s pet name for you?” Sam asks. That’s easy, “doll”, you write. When you reveal your answers, Sharon looks furious. That must be what he calls her too. It stings, thinking of them together. You don’t have time to dwell on it before Sam asks the next question. “What is the highest number of orgasms your partner has given you in one night?” Your eyes widen, you know the answer, but you don’t know if he will remember.

Tony and Pepper answer three, Tony grins like the cocky asshole he is. Vision and Wanda answer two. Bucky raises his board, “Six?!” Sam shouts, “How were you guys fucking this much and nobody knew?” He laughs. The round surprisingly ends with Wanda and Vision getting eliminated.

But you’re busy thinking about that night. Bucky’s head between your thighs for hours. He barely came up for breath. You were sure he would smother, but he insisted. He didn’t stop until the sheets were soaked, your legs were shaking so hard, you’d immediately fall if you tried to stand up.

He had you screaming his name all night. When he finally started fucking you, he took his time, pulling another orgasm out of you before going back down for another taste. He finally came with you on top. He had to lift your limp body on him, using you like a sex doll. You couldn’t move if you needed too. It was the best sex you’d ever had.

“It’s time for the tie breaker question. Answers don’t have to match, the crowd will vote on the most romantic answers.” Sam states. “When did you know you were in love?” Tony and Pepper immediately begin writing. You’re certain you’re going to lose this one. Bucky was never in love with you. You write your answer, deciding to answer truthfully.

Tony and Pepper’s answers make you tear up, they are so in love. You can only hope you’ll find that one day. You and Bucky reveal your boards at the same time. You glance at his, his answer knocks the breath out of your lungs because it matches yours. The Avenger’s Barbecue. You lock eyes, his gaze softens as he reads your answer.

You’ll never forget such a pivotal moment in your life. All of the Avengers and Shield agents’ friends and family were invited to play games, eat, and have a good time. Emily, who helped coordinate your missions brought her husband and three young children. A baby girl, a two year old boy, and a five year old girl. The children were drawn to Bucky. The two older children swung from his metal arm while he held the baby with his other one.

The image made your ovaries explode. You couldn’t help imagining how he would be if you had kids. He laughed as they asked him a thousand questions, playing on him like a jungle gym. You knew without a doubt, you were in love.

Bucky took a deep breath when he read your answer. Why was it the same as his? Did you know? Was it a prank you were playing on him? Emily’s children were entranced with you from the moment they met you. He couldn’t blame them, he felt the same. They had played with him for an hour before the food was ready. When Tony told everyone to make a plate, you offered to watch the kids while she and her husband got their food.

Bucky watched as you comforted the crying infant. The two older children sat beside you while you read from a book the girl got from their bag. Bucky knew he was screwed. He could see a life like this so clearly. Your belly round with his baby, while you tended to your other children. He didn’t want to admit how badly he wanted that. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He was in love with you.

That night he made love to you, it was softer, slower than the other times he touched you. He knew you could tell the difference too. He placed one last kiss to your lips, willing himself to let you go. The next morning, he left for his two week mission with Sam. He convinced himself that it was for the best if he ended things. He didn’t want to hurt you. You might be okay with it now, but years later you would regret it.

You’d realize having the Winter Soldier for a husband wasn’t worth everything you would have to go through. Then Sharon started flirting with him after Steve rejected her. He hadn’t so much as hugged her, but she acted like she was entitled to him.

Everyone voted for Tony and Pepper to win. They were the real couple and it was their anniversary tomorrow. Tony was going to treat everyone to dinner for being such good sports. You got out of there as soon as it was over. You needed a nap before going to dinner. It was all too much for you. How the hell did you and Bucky make it so far in the game? Why did he have the same answer for the last question? You convince yourself that he knew how you felt.

That night changed everything. The sex was different. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear he was making love to you. He had to be messing with your head. Somehow you manage to fall asleep even with your thoughts racing.

You wake up two hours later, just enough time to get ready for dinner. You put on the little black dress Bucky loved. If he wants to play games, bring it on. You apply your perfume when a light knock sounds on your door. You would recognize the knock anywhere. “Come in” you call. Bucky walks in, his tight black t-shirt hugging him in the best ways.

“Hey doll, we need to talk.” You put your earrings in, anger surging through you. “Talk about what? How you were trying to humiliate me up there? How you’re banging Sharon now? There’s nothing to talk about. You should just go.”

“Humiliate you? What about me? How did you know the answer to the last question?” He demands, charging toward you. “I answered it truthfully, James. How did you know my answer?” You ask, hands on your hips. “I answered honestly too.” He confesses, his blue eyes sweeping over the swell of your breasts.

“Stop lying! I don’t see what the point is. We have been over for three months. Why are you doing this?” He shakes his head, “I was telling the truth. I realized I was in love with you when all those kids were sitting in your lap. I could see our life together. And I wanted it, the kids, the white picket fence, the big house, you.”

“Bucky, I wanted all that with you too. Seeing you playing with those kids made me realize it too.” You sigh, feeling relieved to finally get it off your chest. His lips crash into yours, hands moving at lightning speed to remove all of your clothing. You’re under him in seconds, panting against his lips as he rubs himself against you.

Bucky moans as he sinks into you. He’s always known deep down you were made for him, now he has no choice but to accept it. “I’m so in love with you.” He tells you between thrusts. You claw at his back, his confession almost sends you over the edge. “I am so in love with you, Buck.” You kiss him gently. “Say it again.” He smiles, as you get lost in each other.

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[foldingfittedsheets]

We had the most egregiously evil little pony horse when I was growing up. I know everyone says that. Ponies are one of the animals that truly understand how to commit crimes but she was really deeply atrocious. One time she tried to murder me. Her name was Fancy.

I feel I should slightly explain here. See, my parents bought two acres with a house and a barn and pasturage and went “We’re farmers now!” They had absolutely no idea what they were doing. And at a certain point along that journey my mom got her hands on a horse. Technically she was half pony half horse so she was this weird middle size.

Fancy belonged to a friend of hers and he showed her how to saddle Fancy. And that was it. That was all we knew about this horse. So my mom brings her home and saddles her and we decide to go for a ride on this new creature in our lives. But Fancy, being the savvy bitch she was, was far too canny for our dumb asses.

Her maiden ride went to my older brother and ended rather abruptly when the saddle slid completely sideways and my brother toppled off her, miraculously unharmed but unwilling to ever try again. This made me like Fancy somewhat, because I hated my brother.

Those familiar with horse trickery would have caught her ruse but Fancy had deliberately held her breath to make the saddle seem tight enough. But in stride she let the breath out, the saddle loosened, and my brother came toppling down. She planned that fuckup.

I was a bit more game, being a dedicated horse girl. I wanted to succeed where my loathsome brother had failed. Keep in mind: none of us had ever ridden. We had no idea what we were doing, and in the only defense I’ll ever make of that hoofed demon it was probably not pleasant to have a human flopping on her back like a sack of potatoes. But I paraded around in a circle until she scraped my leg against a fence post. I lasted longer than my brother but had to admit riding an animal radiating malice at you is not comfortable.

We didn’t really ride Fancy much after that. She was a decorative aspect to the fields. Sometimes I’d sit on her bare back while she was eating. Every so often she’d buck me off for assuming familiarity with her.

But Fany's coup de grâce took several months. Most of the pasturage had electric fence running along it to keep the livestock from testing the fences or getting a taste for freedom. My parents were constantly moving fence posts and reallocating land to different purposes which is how one of the major gates ended up with electric fence running over top. During a move the wire got left up from the last border and now it was strung over what should have been an open passage.

I was taking a ride on Fancy, living in a fantasy that I had any idea what I was doing. My mom was out working in the yard, and as she passed through she left the gate open, forgetting the wire hazard. You know who didn't forget?

Fancy.

She beelined for the open gate and I realized a second too late what her plan was. I hauled back on the reins with all my strength but she powered through, charging at the wire. If I'd caught on sooner I could have tipped forward and probably cleared it.

It was roughly chest height. But she was too savvy, keeping a slow pace right up until the passage, and I didn't have time to react. The thought of getting electrocuted sent me down into a terrified backward limbo, desperately trying to flatten myself along her back.

Her assassination almost worked. But instead of beheading me the wire caught under my chin, pressing back into my neck like a garrote. The only good news was that the wire wasn't live, but I was still in terrible danger. I squealed and wiggled and managed to twist my neck enough that the wire scraped over my face instead of pressing deeper. Once we were through Fancy stopped and turned to regard me, disappointed that her murder had failed. My neck was bleeding but my head remained attached.

My mother was absolutely terrified and I was pretty shaken myself. We unsaddled Fancy for the last time, as full on attempts on my life were a bit more than I was willing to bear for the sake of pretending to be a fantasy hero on an epic journey. My neck still has a faint scar from her homicidal tendencies.

Fancy got to remain a decorative horse for many years after that, free of our attempts to ride her. Her last torment was when my mother decided to try to breed her to achieve an animal that was less interested in murder.

But Fancy, true to form, brutally attacked the stallion sent to service her, even when hopped up on horny hormones. There would be no foals from Fancy, and her saga ended when we sold her to another unlucky soul.

[sirxlla]

The Qilin Test

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

Warnings: Fluff

Prompt: Meeting all Damian's pets (minus the dragon bat he apparentally has 😀 [im concerned for him a bit]) requested by @alexamars17

Notes: The title is a Harry Potter reference, Female Reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

Meeting a billionare's son online was probably not on your bingo yard for the year... Definitely not something that Damian would ever think would happen but alas Jason had set up a dating profile for his little brother. (No matter how old Damian got Jason always called him his little brother cuz he knew a pissed him off.)

"Online datings tragic at best or its for casual sex, no one actually finds anyone that way." Damian rolled his eyes as his brothers attempts to get him back into the dating pool.

"Come on it'll be fun and plus you're more tolerable when you have a girlfriend." Jason just wanted him to try it, Damian had been miserable for months after Raven left him.

"Plus you wont have to worry about her reading your mind and shit cause chances are she'll be human and she wont be able to do that hoodoo voodoo stuff on you."

"Fine, Todd but if this goes south..." Damian huffed unhappy, Jason had probably made it all stupid in general and was doing this as some sorta prank or something.

"Just try it." Jason handed Damian his phone back, the profile was actually set up fairly nice considering Jason did it. It was clear to Damian at that moment that Jason was serious, a little light shone through the broken state of his heart that Raven left him in.

It had been months since Raven and he really had loved her but she had looked inside and saw memories he didnt want anyone to know about...Then she threw them in his face during an argument. He still loved her but he couldnt be with someone who chastised him for his past.

Anyways, he decided to give this a try and he found the girl that he just instantly clicked with. He could talk about whatever was interesting to him and she had no issue talking back to him about it. He was talking booby traps, grave guns and how during WW2 they would make bombs out of things that look like regular objects...

Damian found himself thinking about her during the day and he found himself staying up late just so that he could talk to her. They met up once but they were both extremely nervous and that was extremely obvious, the date had got cut short because of paparazzi...you know with him being Damian Wayne and all?

The next time he met you he decided that it would be a really good idea to introduce you to his pets, pets tended to make things go a lot smoother and everyone was a lot less nervous around a pet. He was so nervous that Titus might not like you...Bat-Cow liked everyone and Alfred was a cat so he was to be expected of a cat.

You came over to Wayne Manor where he told you to meet him, gentlemanly he opened your drivers side door for you and held out his hand. Reaching out to grab his hand you got out of your car and walked behind him, your hand still in his, he was suprisingly so gentle.

"Okay so I have three pets...I'll show you the biggest and most loveable- I mean they all are really but everyone loves her." He guided you through the yard and twords the little barn area he had built especially for her and your mind wandered to curiousity.

Damian keeps your hand in his so you dont trip cause its a little slick. Good thing he told you to dress casual. He gently guided you in and you saw the big white and brown cow.

"Oh, My- Wow. Oh, she'd beautiful! And so cute." You squealed over the cow. Each word that you said made him fall deeper and deeper into the love that you was already feeling for you.

"She's got a little bat symbol around her eyes that's why we call her BatCow." Of course you could only tell you partially what the reason was cause he hadn't told you his entire family is full of vigilantes.

"Oh, my god! Thats so cute and so clever!" Your eyes lit up as he explained that, his broken heart was being quickly mended and put back together by you, it swelled at the sound of your amusement.

Damian let you feed her and pet her for a bit before asking if you wanted tonmeet his other animals. This is where he was nervous, Titus listed with little issue but of courss but he was still worried about him liking you.

Using your hand he guided you up twords the manor. Of course you were in awe cause this place was beautiful so he walked slow. Once he got in he whistled and the dog came with little issue, Titus was well trained and well behaved but he definitely made his opinions very obvious.

Titus sniffed around her to see how he felt about her, curious sniffs quickly turned to him yipping like a puppy and turning around to get his toy for you to throw.

Damian smiled, the tension in his shoulders dissipating. He had never seen him act like this with someone that he just met but he seemed extremely happy and extremely trusting of you. Considering most people say that dogs can tell what type of person someone is without even being around them for long, this was a good sign.

Titus came back with the toy and you threw it and he went and got it and brought it back, yipping and wagging his body and tail. Whilst you and Titus played Alfred the Cat decided to come out abd brush up against you.

"Was this a dream?" Damian almost asked himself cause of how well it was going.

"Awww, Hello little kitty!" You doted on both his indoor pets instantly like they were your own and his love for you just increased ten fold, he'd never let anything hurt you not now when he was so completely enthralled with you.

"That's Alfred Pennyworth the cat, he's named after the butler and this is Titus." He introduces the animals formally.

"They're just the cutest little guys." You were just so happy and they were just so adorable.

"Little guys?" He thought, he didnt even notice the smile on your face and the way you treated every animal as if it was as small as a chipmunk and how they all got equal love. If he didn't know you were the one before, he definitely knew now.

Over time Titus took on the role of protecting you the same way he protected Damian. Both you and Damian too care of Bat-Cow and Alfred came and went as he pleased, if you sat still long enough he coiled himself up ontop of you. Damian had his own little perfect family and it was even remotely complete without you.

(Send me prompts if youd like.)

Masterlist

[undyingdecay]

Hi! Write something that’s been on your mind with Bucky x reader. That’s it, that’s the request

LAWDDD THANK YOU FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY

everyone listen pls

dark!bucky who’s really done this time. no more missions, no more being the weapon, no more blood-soaked hands and tactical gear. just a beat-up old house on the edge of some nowhere town, a fenced yard, tools he doesn't really know how to use but pretends he does, and quiet nights where the world forgets he ever existed.

and then there’s you.

too young, too bright, too soft-spoken with those pretty little thank-yous and sorrys. eyes like you’ve never seen the kind of things he’s done. you remind him of a different time, of girls he used to steal kisses from on porch swings and finger in the back seats of parked cars while big band music crackled through the radio.

and he knows. knows what a good man should do. but bucky barnes hasn’t been a good man since 1943.

he tells himself he won’t. he shouldn’t. but the universe, cruel bitch that she is, keeps shoving you in his path. and when you smile at him, all soft and sweet, asking if he wants company for dinner sometime, well — it’s already over.

before you even realize what’s happening, you’re his.

he’s got you playing house in no time. you quit that little job, start wearing those sweet dresses he likes, the ones that cling to your thighs and make his cock ache when you bend down to set the table. he comes home to you barefoot, hair a mess from cooking, apron stained with something you can’t pronounce because you were trying to make it from one of his old recipes. and it’s perfect. exactly the kind of life he swore he'd never have and now refuses to live without.

and in the bedroom? christ.

he’s filthy with it, gets mean in a way that feels like worship. has you face down in the mattress, crying into a pillow, the flesh of his hand pressed to your back to keep you arched the way he likes. stubble scraping your cheek as he hisses against your skin.

"y’know, back then… women just took it," he mutters, voice thick, hips grinding rough against yours. "didn’t bitch, didn’t cry. they knew what they were good for."

his metal hand sneaks down, cold against your burning skin, splaying over your belly where his cock bulges thick and heavy inside you, pressing down just to feel it. and he’s so far gone, so starved for this pretend domesticity he’s built with you, you can feel it in the way he ruts against you like a feral thing.

"look at that," he groans, dark satisfaction flooding his voice. "pretty little thing, already showin’ for me."

he says it like it’s fact, like your body’s already his to fill and breed and own. and you believe him. because how could you not, when every part of you is burning, your mind hazy and sweet and drunk off the way he uses you.