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[reader-without-a-story]

ohhhhhhhh my GOD, DARLIN!!! this is INCREDIBLE 💚😍💚 “i would cherish both of you” i’m MELTING 🫠 thank you thank you thaNK YOU for writing this!!! time to go tide myself over with your other writing until chapter 14 comes out! 💚💚💚

Dog with No Teeth // Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader

Like deer meat picked off by carrion birds, you are plucked up during a scavenging raid by tactical-clad men all in black. There is no possibility of returning to your old life. You’re forced to assimilate, to conform to the remaining dredges of society. With that comes a choice: select someone to marry or the government will do it for you. You make the rash choice, selecting the skull-faced stranger that snatched you in the first place.

Overall Warnings: Post-Apocalyptic AU, dubcon, forced marriage, forced proximity, eventual lovers, breeding, pregnancy, canon-typical violence

Chapters: Ongoing

One // Two // Three // Four ** // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve ** // Thirteen // Fourteen // Fifteen // Sixteen // Seventeen // Eighteen // Nineteen // Twenty // Twenty-One // Twenty-Two // Twenty-Three // Twenty-Four // Twenty-Five // Twenty-Six // Twenty-Seven // Twenty-Eight // Twenty-Nine // Thirty

** indicates a Community Label

ao3 // main masterlist

[reader-without-a-story]

bucky: matter of FACT

gets down on one knee, pulls his mothers engagement ring out of his pocket where it’s been for MONTHS. will you marry me??

birdie: *looking around* *waves a few times in his face* earth to bucky? hello? are you having an elder crisis??

bucky: *snaps back into his body after thinking about their life together* sorry—i was just imaging proposing and spending the rest of our lives together. what were we talking about?

birdie.exe has stopped working

bucky has to fix her with 1 or 6 orgasms

Birdie - I've been thinking about how we should maybe move in together.

Bucky - Don't you already live here?

OH MY GOD😂 Bucky would be flabbergasted 😂

Birdie would be like;

"...No?"

"I bought a closet so that we could put your stuff there darling."

"No I know, but-"

"You have the keys."

"I already had your keys."

"Right, I forgot about that."

"So um-you're like, you're fine with the idea?"

"What does that mean?"

"I mean you could think we're moving too fast?"

"I think we're not moving fast enough, now that you brought it up."

[reader-without-a-story]

ok—but…um?? bucky? baby, sweetheart, darling…

let’s not pretend that alpine was the ONLY one staring at the door and yowling for their favorite person to get home. bucky was definitely trying to distract himself with chores that conveniently allowed for him to pass by the front door… definitely NOT so that he could scoop his girl back into his arms the SECOND she walked in… no no no. he just NEEDED to do these specific tasks at this exact time. no other reason.

and idk if he’d deny it when birdie comes in the door and sees the evidence of his super soldier pacing, or if he’d totally own it, but…

exhibit a:

“Hey Bucky?” Birdie says, moving her face from his neck where he had her stashed away.

“Yeah honey?”

“why are there tread marks on your antique wood floors? going back and forth from the bedroom and kitchen?”

breathing her in, he barely glances away from her curious face before he shrugs, “i don’t know what you’re talking about, sweets.”

exhibit b:

“Hey Bucky?” squirming in his heavy hold. where he was keeping her solidly above where Alpine was batting at his calves, demanding her mother.

“Yeah? Alpine, go away, she’s mine. What’s up?” sliding his head up from his annoying cat.

Birdie, willing the hot blush spreading up from her neck to go away: “What are those tread marks doing in your floor? The antique floor of your antique home? That’s probably worth more than i make in a year?”

“what?”

“your floors, Bucky.”

“yeah—no, i know the floors. Alpine wasn’t the only one watching the door like a hawk. couldn’t let the little devil get to you before me.”

“Bucky! You can’t call her a devil! she’s a tiny pretty princess!”

“yeah, sure. can we get back to the part where you said these floors are worth more than you make in a year? what am i paying you?”

“doesn’t matter—you could be paying me in kisses~”

“that can be arranged.”

Imagine Birdie going home to get more clothes and stuff and the whole time she was gone, Alpine just walked around meowing "mom? mom? MOM?"

THIS IS GENIUS OMG DARLING!? 😂

She will be yowling! 😂 To the point that Bucky literally called Birdie and be like,

"Sweetheart?"

"Oh hi! I'm on my way, do you want anything from the outside?"

"No but can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"What did you do to my cat?"

"...Sorry?"

"Can you hear her?"

"Oh my God yes. What's happening?"

"I have no idea, she has been yelling at me since you left."

"Bucky, that's so cute!"

"Yeah, because she's not yelling at you. She's yelling at me and glaring like it's my fault that you left."

"Tell her I'll be there soon."

"I did, she's not listening."

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“the way he looks at her like he’s gonna ruin her life and then build her a bookshelf”

WHY DO MEN NOT UNDERSTAND??? THIS IS WHAT I WANT. THIS. DARLIN! 💚💚💚💚💚

simon “ghost” riley x girly!reader — love island reality show headcanons (early episodes)

☆ when he first arrives on the show:

comes in quiet. big. black t-shirt. combat boots. everyone else is glammed up and he looks like he just finished a hit job in manchester.

producers try to play it up like he's the "mysterious bad boy" type, but he’s not even trying. he just doesn’t speak unless he has to. sits in the shade. watches.

first confessional he says:

“don’t really care to be here. cameras are fuckin’ annoying. someone already touched my toothpaste.”

the internet is immediately obsessed.

☆ the other girls try to flirt and he’s just?? not into it??

one girl bites her lip and says “you look like trouble” and he goes:

“i’m not. i’m worse.”

walks off.

one of the gym girls sits next to him and touches his thigh and he just stares at her hand. no words. just… disappointed dad energy.

in his confessional later:

“they’re all loud. they want attention. not my thing. don’t like the fake lashes.”

☆ then you walk in. soft voice. pink sundress. hair all pretty. a little nervous.

he notices you immediately. not in a wow she’s hot way. in a why do i wanna fold her up and put her in my pocket way.

watches you talk to the other girls. listens to you say “i made everyone iced tea!” and for the first time since arriving, smiles a little. just a twitch of the mouth. blink and you miss it.

someone calls you “bambi” and he thinks it fits. soft eyes. gentle steps. heart too easy to bruise.

☆ and now he’s just… following you with his eyes constantly.

doesn’t say much. just appears near you. always.

you go to water the plants? he’s suddenly outside too.

“was hot in there,” he mutters, lighting a cig.

he’s lying.

you sit at the pool? he moves his chair.

“sun’s better over here.”

it’s not. he just wants to see your legs.

☆ in the confession booth he’s so blunt and lowkey perverse without realizing

producers ask “so what do you think of y/n?”

“pretty little thing. voice like honey. tits look good in that top. makes me wanna do things.”

sips water. completely deadpan.

“don’t want her around the other lads. they’re all smilin’ at her. makes me want to bury ‘em.”

☆ the girls talk about him and you’re just like 😳

“he’s scary. doesn’t even blink. i swear he was staring at the kettle for twenty minutes.”

“i saw him sniff your shampoo bottle when you left it by the sink.”

you’re like… he’s just misunderstood (no babe he’s pervy and weird but it’s hot.)

☆ when you’re paired for a game, he goes dead serious.

“don’t drop her,” he mutters to the other guy.

“she’s too easy to break. be gentle or i’ll fuckin’ break your hands.”

it’s supposed to be a fun, flirty competition. he’s ready to throw hands. for you. a girl he’s said 4 words to.

☆ when you finally talk to him, he’s awkward but kind of charming?? in a dark war criminal way??

you: “do i make you nervous?”

him: “not nervous. distracted.”

you: “by what?”

him: “mouth. skirt. thighs. that little laugh you do. i could go on.”

☆ and suddenly twitter’s in shambles like

"ghost is so hot he’s like if PTSD wore cologne”

"he hasn’t smiled once and i want him to spit in my mouth"

"the way he looks at her like he’s gonna ruin her life and then build her a bookshelf"

[reader-without-a-story]

daRLIN—i’m BARKING

18+, MDNI

-

Gimme gimme gimme desperate Soap and a pretty thing that can't stop fucking each other. All over one another when he's back from deployment. Real nasty stuff. Talking: wall to wall, kitchen countertops, bed, floor, couches, outside on walks.

Vibrating cockrings in public spaces. Remote controlled vibrators on drives.

Two, desperate, horny little devils.

Soap is in heaven.

For about....six months.

Eventually, it'll wear on him. Tired from work. Too tired to always give it to you like he needs to, but he isn't a quitter! He does it, no complaining on his end.

But the team notices. Ghost first, of course. Johnny is comin back worse for wear off of leave, and it doesn't sit right with Ghost. No, no it doesn't. That's his sergeant, his best man. So, he watches and waits.

Gaz notices second. Soap and Gaz are two peas in a pod and he can't help but stare as Johnny walks in the rec room with dark circles around his eyes, winces as he sits down and immediately passes out when he relaxes in the couch, snuggled to his best mate.

Breaks Gaz's heart.

Cap notices last, but immediately pulls him and the rest of the team in his office to ask him straight:

"What's goin on, sunshine? You feelin okay? Everything olright at home?"

And god, Soap appreciates the thought, but is mortified that his lack of jokes, tired eyes and sore muscles have been noticed by everyone.

He tries to play it cool. Laughs it off. Tells everyone to stop worrying. Attempts to pick himself from his seat, but Ghost immediately shoves him back down.

"Someone hurtin you, Johnny? Someone we need to take care of?" Soap almost wants to cry. His team is so fuckin sweet, but there's no way he can admit what's actually happening.

"Say the word, Soap, and it'll be taken care of. No questions asked." Kyle rubs his shoulder, offering him support and comfort in this difficult situation.

Soap breaks.

"Not what you think it is..." He whispers, thinking about you. Your lips around his cock. Your tight holes around his dick. His own tongue deep inside you.

Over and over and over-

"What is it, son? What's goin on?" John cares about his team. He cares about his boys. He wants them happy. Wants them thriving. They were in a fucked up line of work, and every day wasn't promised.

Least he could do was make sure his men were taken care of. That they were being taken care of.

"It's too much." It was soft. A confession. Something he didn't mean to say out loud, but was ripped from his throat all the same.

"What's too much, Johnny?" Ghost whispered back, his hand finding his knee and squeezing it gently. Both his and Kyle's hands pulling and pushing Soap into an ease that he hadn't had in quite awhile.

Johnny broke.

"My...my lass and I we're...she's draining me fuckin dry!"

Silence.

Not what they thought he would say...

"Your lass is-" Kyle couldn't even ask before Johnny threw his head back and sobbed.

"My fuckin dream is my nightmare, Kyle! Can you fuckin believe it? Fuckin right embarrassin, I'll tell you. She's the best. Sweet. Cooks. Cleans. Has hobbies. Never cries when I'm gone. Never upset when I leave at a moments notice. Just smiles, kisses me and wishes me well. God, Gaz, I'm in fuckin love with her. She's perfect. But...but..." Johnny shakes his head. Swallows thickly and breaths deeply.

"But?" Cap presses, his arms crossed against his chest, plans forming in his head.

"Fuckin insatiable, that one is. It was fine at first. Fun! Sex everyday. Multiple times a day. Wake up with my cock down her throat and go to sleep deep in her cunt. Keeps me warm all the time, Cap. Begs me to fuck her right in the arse at midnight. Eats my arse like she's mad at it. Fuckin heaven I tell you lot! But...but I'm so goddamn tired. I'm so sore from it all. And I don't ever want to tell her no, you know? She...she's my sweetheart. And she's been through some things and, not my place to tell, but I want to make her feel wanted. That's what she does to me. And I need to do the same. Just some days...it's hard." Johnny laughs, shaking his head at his outburst. "Fuck, here I am, whining and bitchin because I can't tell her no...fuck me. I gotta just, say it. Be honest. Be open. Let her know that I'm not just some machine. That I need some rest."

It's quiet. Conversations are happening without Johnny being involved.

Kyle readjusts in his chair.

"Insatiable thing, you say?" Johnny smiles brightly, nodding his head.

"Fuck yeah. Sweet thing, fuckin fooled me the first time. Went for hours before I finally passed out inside her, pinnin her down to the floor. How I found out she likes to go to sleep with a cock in her."

"Nasty little thing, huh, Johnny?" Ghosts asks, remembering what Soap said about her devilish tongue.

"Oh, LT. You wouldn't fuckin believe. Made me piss on her the second week I moved in. Had to convince her to let me do it in the shower. Kept trying to do on the bed. Fuckin feisty when she wants." Johnny couldn't help but squeeze his hardening cock, remembering vividly that night. Your smiles. Your mouth opening. Your giggles. You were a fuckin angel.

"Needs some good lovin, that right, Soap?" Price asked, leaning back in his chair, lighting up a cigar as Johnny smiles wide, hearts for eyes.

"Needs all the lovin, Cap. Can't take a compliment. Dishes em out like currency but refuses to acknowledge any back. Love holding her down and tellin her how perfect she is, how gorgeous she is. How she was made for me. She tries to hide her face. Wants to pull away, but I don't let her. Gotta make her see it, you know?" Price hums, filing it away for later.

Simon sits back in his chair, stretching his neck side to side. Thinking of things that he can't say quite yet.

"Can't tell her, Johnny." Johnny freezes at his words, his heart catching in his throat and his eyes widening.

"What you mean, LT? I thought...I mean-I-" Johnny stutters, thinking he made a big mistake. He shouldn't have said anything. Everything is ruined.

"He's right." Kyle says, now massaging both of his shoulders, trying to get Johnny to relax and accept what they were offering. "You need a break, mate. Need to relax. But your lass? Poor thing is neglected every time you're out and about. She waits every day for you to come home and make her feel good. Make her feel like she belongs. Bet she looks forward to you home more than she does waking up." Kyle waits, still working the knots out of Johnny's shoulders and letting it settle into his core. Kyle brushes his lips against Johnny's ear, letting him shiver at the closeness of his fellow sergeant. "You just need someone to help you out with her." Johnny's eyes bulge out, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"Might need more than just one person, from the sound of it." Cap has a grin on his face, predatory and exhilarating. Johnny's cocks his head, his thoughts running away from him as he takes in what his team is saying.

"Think you might need the whole team, Johnny." Simon's whispers, and it's settled.

Now...how to tell you.

[reader-without-a-story]

the brain worms are munching, mint…

it’s the middle of the night. darlin is all nice and snug as a bug in a rug, curled around a pillow that (conveniently) smells just like a certain farmer… when—in a cold sweat she wakes up a la kronk “oh yeah, it’s all coming together” slumps back down before jolting fully awake and FINALLY comes to the realization that wolf!beau and human!beau are one in the same.

gives him the stink eye the next time they see each other (literally that next morning) and he is SO unsettled… like?? why is his darling upset with him??

she waits for him to tip his coffee cup up to his lips and hits him with the “you’re right, it was a waste” he SPITS it everywhere red in the face AGAIN and she finally has the confirmation she needs

…now if only she could get beaumont to live up to the second half of his name and MOUNT…

Beaumont is actually Hella Southern™️, I love it!

they are grabbing breakfast VERY early one morning (that farm boy schedule). You're halfawake, nursing a coffee, nd the waitress clicks her tongue at beau when she tops you off.

"Beaumont Russell-" she smacks her gum as she talks. "You best be making this girl an honest woman.

Beau's tan blossoms with a red, red blush. He absolutely stammers, setting his fork down with a huff. The waitress glances at you and winks, trying to bite back her smile; apparently, she expected this.

"Now-- Why--?" he says. "Suzanne-"

She taps the table with her knuckles and a chuckle. "Don't settle on a small ring, sug'. I seen his house. He can get you something big."

When she walks off, Beau continues huffing and puffing, not so silently thinking it all over. You try to hold back a giggle, but fail, earning yourself a less than warm glare.

"Beaumont, huh?"

He groans. "Oh, come on."

You waggles your finger out to him with a little "ooo".

"Give me something big, Beaumont."

"I tried to give you something big and you couldn't take it-"

[reader-without-a-story]

now THATS a weeping angel i can get behind on all fours for

one time i visited a cemetery and this one dude's grave had THE sexiest male angel statue i've ever fucking seen. like. he was nude except for a sword and helmet. he had nipples. you could see his entire bare thigh. what a baller move to put an ancient athenian's wet dream on top of your eternal resting place. i think about him a lot.

[reader-without-a-story]

okaaaayyyyy

so i KNOW the start of this was Hazel x Lucas

BUT! This petty banter??:

“Hasn’t escaped my attention.”

“Good. So you can be honest, I won’t say anything bad. I mean to the public. I might say bad stuff to you.”

feels VERY reminiscent to:

“You’re not going to move your seat up are you?”

“Nope.”

it FEELS a lottle like Hazels redemption arc could include her teaming up with Sam & Sarah to bully Bucky into asking Birdie out who is being bullied by Lucas, Caleb and Kelsey

the two groups are working completely independently from one another AND AND AND are SO confused when Kelsey Birdies maid of honor and Sam Bucky’s best man both mention bullying the two idiots into getting together a few years later at the wedding

Imagine at some point Bucky and Hazel run into each other when all the drama has settled and Hazel just tells him “can you just go and be with y/n already? What’s wrong with you?” 🤣 I want Hazel to end up with Lucas. Haha.

Asdfhjkl aw Lucas with Hazel! 🥰

Lolll Hazel would NOT hold back, like they probably ran into each other at a bar or something, so she'd take a sip of her drink and go like,

"So are you and the puppy dog eyes dating now?"

"What? Hazel—"

"Hm?"

"That's not—that's not what's happening."

"...Jesus, are you two still in the yearning phase?"

"There's no yearning."

"There's a lot of yearning. Like, Regency level yearning."

"It's professional."

"Mm, nothing about you two is professional."

"There's nothing going on between us."

"You do realize we broke up, right?"

"Hasn't escaped my attention."

"Good. So you can be honest, I won't say anything bad. I mean to the public. I might say bad stuff to you."

[reader-without-a-story]

Okay but I’m sure y/n and Bucky are together in every universe

Literally every single one

[reader-without-a-story]

idk and feel free to correct me but bucky is definitely not the dad of the thunderbolts. at most he is their older brother. he won't be making appointments for dentists but he'll probably drive them back from the visit. he is not supervising their dates from the other side of the restaurant but probably keeps his door open if they want to sulk in the corner of his room for a while while he does something else.

like. he's not their dad. he's an older brother stuck watching them. he's not doing well himself, he just copes better than they are because he's further along on his mental health journey.

do you get me. he's not herding them together like chickens and wearing an apron and fussing over whether they ate dinner. he's mostly just 'do whatever you want, don't get killed and don't get me killed'. but he will absolutely jump into the line of fire with you (exasperated). do you get me. do you get me.

[reader-without-a-story]

oh my GOD DARLIN!!!!!! i—this—agh! this is incREDIBLE! I LOVE it!!!! 💚💚💚 could i be added to the taglist? pretty please with a cherry on top?? 💚🍒

Bird Watching

Construction Worker!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x single mom!reader

‘Birds of a feather,

We should stick together, I know,

I said I’d never,

Think I wasn’t better alone’

Part one (2.3k words)

Part two (2.4K words)

Part three (3.6k words)

Part four (4.5k words)

Part five coming soon

‘I knew you in another life,

You had that same look in your eyes,

I love you,

Don’t act so surprised’

[reader-without-a-story]

simon with a staring problem for his pretty plushie roommate 🍆

his pupils shrink tight, before blowing wide, irises flicking over you. n his head pumps full of vile, lewd thoughts. you’re all of just sitting across from him, relaxed back onto the plush couch cushions. but your skin looks so soft, so mailable, and the way your tits droop apart, falling down near your sides… fuck.

his trying to reel his way back in, rope in his building thoughts, painting such descriptive pictures in the fuzzy, warm mush of his brain. but then your thick, doughy thighs part.

and he watches in hunger, eyes darkening as they slip down over the gooey folds of your pretty stomach. and it’s cruel, the way your thin little shorts bunch.

bunch tight up between the warmth of your cunt, giving him a fuckin view of your puffy, pudgy pussy. and his mouth salivates, teeth grinding before he’s blowing a deep breath out wide nostrils.

and he’s suddenly tense, desperate to rise up off the couch, balls aching in a need to have your pussy molded around him, to have his tongue playing with you as you drip down his chin like a sugary syrup.

but your foot stops him, and he takes note of your pretty, painted toes. his whole body burns, head spinning and stomach rolling in something of nausea?

“where’re you going, si?” and his eyes fall to your face, feigning a sweet innocence that has his cock leaking. your lips fall flat into a soft pout, head tilted to the side quizzically, and the soft apples of your fatty cheeks dimple with your deepening pout. he wants to dig his fingers in tight, separate the tissue and open your mouth up wide, let you choke… no. god.

but when his body falls flat against the couch, sweat already building at his fuckin hairline is when your toes slip higher, your ankle rolls, and he watches red-faced when you press between the v of his pelvis.

i’ll be getting to your guys asks soon i promise i promise please don’t hate me my angels

[reader-without-a-story]

may this love rUN ME THE FUCK OVER

This Is Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 918

Summary: You have a late day at work and Bucky wants to walk you home.

Author's Note: This is just some softness because why not! Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft sweetness and fluff, maybe our reader feeling a little jealous and possessive hehe

The evening breeze ruffles the bottom of your dress, and the fabric tickles the back of your thighs as the scent of hot dogs and car exhaust drifts from the street.

You glance at the curb. “Where’s your bike?”

“Home,” Bucky answers simply as he takes your hand in his. “Thought I could walk you back to the apartment. You know…the old-fashioned way.”

He doesn’t say this to earn any reaction from you, so he misses the way your eyes soften.

You’ve both had late days. You were finishing things up at the office and he was working with Sam at the VA. Now, however, it’s time to go home and he insisted on meeting you so you could make the trip together.

The busiest part of the day has come and gone but you’re still lucky to find seats together on the crowded train. You watch your reflection in the window opposite you and even in the grimy glass and beneath the harsh, often flickering fluorescent lights, it’s impossible to miss how beautiful he is.

He’s loosened his tie, unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt to offer up a triangle of smooth, tan skin. The open shirt frames his long neck, the tempting hint of collarbone peeking out just enough to make you wonder why you aren’t kissing it right now.

As if sensing your gaze, his eyes shift from the passing blur of the city and meet yours in the glass. Your reflections rock with the movement of the train, and he watches you too, a small, knowing smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

More passengers board at the next stop and he moves, giving his seat to an elderly lady with a heavy bag in each hand. She showers him with sweet praise before sitting and smiling at you.

Bucky takes the spot in front of you, his right arm raised to grip the handrail suspended from the ceiling.

You now have an exceptional view of his torso and the front of his dress pants.

Yummy.

The sound of laughter draws your attention, and you see a group of girls seated only a few rows away. They sit with their heads pressed together and if their hushed giggles and wide-eyed stares are any indication, you know exactly what they’re looking at. Or rather, whom.

You look up to find Bucky looking down at the older woman, listening and oblivious to the leering glances being cast in his direction.

You can’t blame the girls. If you saw Bucky on the train you’d do whatever you could to get a better look. It makes you think back to the first time you met and how you were immediately drawn to him.

He laughs at something the older woman says, and you watch his blue eyes crinkle at the corners and the dark strands of his hair fall in front of his forehead. He looks boyish and gorgeous and you immediately glance over like the jealous wife you are and sure enough, every head in that group of girls is turned, eyes wide, mouths wider, swooning.

And even though you haven’t spoken a word, you begin to wonder if every thought you have is somehow projected onto a screen above your head. Because it’s this moment he chooses to glance down at you, eyes soft and warm as he reaches to brush his metal thumb along your bottom lip.

You turn into his hand and press your mouth to his palm.

He’s beaming when the train comes to a stop and takes your hand as you stand and pulls you out the door, sliding his arm around your waist as soon as you’re on the platform.

“I like this,” he says quietly, tucking you into his side.

You laugh. “Like what?”

“Walking you home.”

He kisses you sweetly in the middle of the street, causing several people to part and move around you, their muttered grumbles going completely unnoticed. The kiss is so soft, so earnest that your chest swells painfully and you wrap your arms around his neck to hold him to you.

The group of girls walk by and in the background you hear their wistful sighs and comments.

“She’s so lucky,” one of the girls says.

You pull away from Bucky and look their way, grabbing hold of his suit jacket possessively.

“Did you hear that?” you mutter.

“Hear what doll?” he asks, his eyes on you, having never left.

“Those girls have been swooning over you since we were on the train.”

“What girls?” Bucky asks, his full attention still on you.

You finally drag your eyes away from the retreating group to meet his.

“I wasn’t done kissing you doll face,” he says with the corner of his mouth turned up and his eyes sparkling.

His palm frames your cheek, and he pulls you closer, uncaring that you’re still standing in the middle of the busy city street.

You grab his wrist and lean into his touch.

“Bucky.”

The admonishment is totally empty, and he knows it, bumping your nose with his before the soft press of his lips is all you feel.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t notice them,” you whisper, eyes closed, and face pressed to his.

“Look at me,” he murmurs.

Your eyes open.

“I wish you could feel what I feel when I look at you doll,” he whispers against your lips. “Then maybe, just maybe you’d understand why I can’t look at anyone else.”

[reader-without-a-story]

reblogging for… future reference…

“say thank you, baby.” simon murmured against your mouth. trailing lazy kisses and licks down your sweat slicked skin.

“you gotta be grateful,” he murmurs softly, his thick cock pummeled into you. fucking against the spongy spot inside of you that made your clit throb.

your mind was muddled, hazy and cock-drunk as the wet sound of him fucking you fills the room. “thank you,” you gasp out. eyes rolling back.

“for what, baby?”

a sharp snap of his hips has the air knocking out of your lungs. “for-for fucking me-for your cock-”

a dark chuckle leaves simon’s lips, rumbling against you and making your nipples tighten as he slowly rocks into you. one hand cradling your head and the other spreading your thighs open for him. “such a good girl. got such good manners, baby.”

NSFW LINK 🌽— inspo

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AGHSGHAHGHJALLIAHGSUGHJK THIS IS SO CUTE

Jackass

Summary : Everyone is horrified that Bucky is flirting with a married woman, but then they realise there's a reason why. 

Pairing : Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x florist!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Secret wife trope. Cursing, Injury. Featuring the Thunderbolts*. Bucky kinda gaslights the entire team. Fluff!!!!

Word count : 3k

Note : The next chapter of spoils of war is almost here, but I just need to go over a couple of paragraphs! In the meantime, enjoy!

The Thunderbolts knew a few undeniable truths about Bucky Barnes.

One: He was grumpy.

Two: He was a private person.

Three: He never, ever let anyone see where he lived.

That last one bothered them the most. They’d pieced together the general area; a quiet neighborhood with old brick buildings, modern cafés, and just enough charm to make it feel… vintage. But no one had ever set foot inside his home, no one had even seen him unlock the door to his sanctuary, since he dodged every casual suggestion to hang out at his place with a variation of “I got plans” or another. And, curiously, every time they stopped for coffee in this part of town, Bucky would mysteriously slip into the tiny flower shop beneath a brick apartment building.

That was odd. No one would’ve guessed that Bucky Barnes even liked flowers.

What was even odder was that this infinitely grumpy, emotionally constipated, “I hate people” supersoldier — would be capable of flirting.

With the florist.

With you.

“Are we seeing this right?” Yelena whispered, elbowing Alexei as they peered through the shop window after Bucky made them wait outside. 

They watched as Bucky stood by the counter, leaning in ever so slightly, a charming grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you wrap a bouquet.

“He’s smiling,” Alexei muttered, horrified.

Inside, Bucky reached for the bouquet you were tying up, his gloved fingers brushing against yours. You playfully smacked his hand away, laughing. He laughed, too, and that was enough to send Yelena spiraling into an existential crisis.

Yelena squinted. “He’s flirting.”

Alexei frowned. “Bucky does not flirt.”

“I know. That’s why I’m freaking out.”

They watched as you handed him the bouquet, and in return, Bucky gave you a wink. And then he turned, walking out like he hadn’t just transformed into a different person.

That was when Yelena, utterly horrified Yelena, caught a flash of gold on your ring finger. She squinted her eyes. It was unmistakable. “Wait a second—”

As soon as he got back to them, Alexei folded his arms. “You were flirting.”

Bucky scoffed. “I was not.”

“She’s married!” Yelena accused, pointing dramatically. “She had a ring! You flirted with a married woman!”

Bucky didn’t even blink. He simply shrugged, tucking the bouquet carefully under his arm. “I didn’t see a ring.”

“She was literally wearing it—”

“I didn’t see a ring,” Bucky insisted, tugging absentmindedly at the chain around his neck— the one that held his dog tags, hidden under his shirt.

Yelena and Alexei exchanged a deeply disturbed look.

Bucky Barnes was flirting with a married florist.

What was the world coming to?

—

Bucky knew he’d fucked up the second he stepped back into Thunderbolts HQ. 

Alexie had just looked confused, while Yelena had been simmering the entire walk back, her arms crossed so tightly over her chest it was a miracle she hadn’t snapped a rib. 

She lasted exactly two seconds before she exploded. “You are jackass, Barnes!”

Bucky barely had time to sigh before she stomped closer.

“What’s so wrong with what I did?” he muttered, placing the bouquet of flowers in an empty vase

Yelena let out an incredulous laugh, pacing in front of him like a caged tiger ready to strike. “What’s wrong?” she echoed, her accent thickening with rage. “You flirted with a married woman! I should punch you in the face on principle!”

From the lounge, John Walker looked up from whatever government-issued nonsense he was pretending to read. His brows immediately furrowed, his eyes twisting into the signature disapproving dad look he’d perfected. “Wait, what?”

Ava, who had been drinking tea in the corner, raised an eyebrow. “This is scandalous,” she murmured, eyes brightening with intrigue.

Alexei, who was now plopped on the couch like some washed-up, Soviet-era king, said, “If a man had flirted with my wife like that, I would have hunt him down and mount his head on wall.” He crossed his arms, nodding to himself in approval. “As is tradition.”

Bucky scowled. “I wasn’t flirting.”

“Oh?” Yelena snorted, “So you were just undressing her with your eyes for fun, then?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s just how I look at people.”

Alexie shook his head. “So you look at us like that?”

Bucky opened his mouth. Then immediately shut it.

Yelena’s hands curled into fists. “Yeah. Thought so.”

John’s arms crossed over his chest in that holier-than-thou stance that he was so famous for. “Look, man, I’m married. And if someone flirted with my wife, we’d have a problem.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You guys are making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Nothing?” Yelena threw up her hands. “She’s married, Bucky!”

“Okay, even if I was flirting,” Bucky turned to her, exasperated— “I didn’t see a ring.”

Yelena’s hands flew to her head, fingers digging into her scalp like she was resisting the urge to rip out her own hair. “You probably chose to look away!”

John sighed like a disappointed youth pastor. “This is unbelievable.”

“No,” Bucky still insisted, “I didn’t see a ring.”

Yelena’s jaw dropped. “It was a thick gold band, Barnes. How could you not see it?”

Ava, who was clearly enjoying the drama more than anyone, sighed. “That is inappropriate behaviour, Barnes.”

Alexei shook his head again, “You should apologise.”

“I’m not apologising,” Bucky scoffed, “Because I did nothing wrong.”

His fingers toyed absentmindedly with the chain that led to his dog tags, and Yelena immediately locked onto the movement. Every person has a tell, a habit they did when they were nervous. And being a super spy, Yelena knew this was his.

She narrowed her eyes. “You are gaslighting us,” she muttered, pacing again like she was mentally weighing the pros and cons of strangling a super soldier.

“I didn’t see a ring,” Bucky repeated, his voice steady.

“You’re lying,” she snapped.

He shrugged, maddeningly casual in all of this chaos. “Guess we’ll never know.”

Ava laughed cynically. “I can’t tell if you’re a complete scumbag or if this is just really fun for you.”

Bucky just popped a beer from the fridge, flicking the cap off with his metal hand. “Why not both?”

He took a long sip of his beer, completely unbothered.

And maybe, he looked a little bit too smug.

—

Three weeks later, Bucky led Yelena and John on a mission to take down a high-scale arms dealer.

And, as always, the mission had gone sideways.

It was too late for any shops to be open, too late for anyone with a shred of common sense to be out on the streets. 

Yelena was bleeding, pressing a torn scrap of fabric against a deep gash on her arm. John had a busted lip and a slight limp. Bucky was sporting a few cuts and bruises himself, but nothing he hadn’t shaken off a thousand times before.

“Guys,” Yelena managed a grunt, shifting her grip on her makeshift bandage, “we need to get ourselves patched up before one of us drops dead.”

“We ran out of antiseptics back at HQ,” John reminded them.

Yelena groaned, throwing her head back in despair. “So what are we supposed to do?” She gritted out, “Just bleed out in the street like sad little orphans?”

John scowled. “That’s a little dramatic.”

Yelena turned and glared at him. “Your face is dramatic.”

Bucky let out a deep breath through his nose, running a hand along his damp hair. He glanced around the street, making sure they weren’t being followed before whispering to himself, “Guess we’re doing this now.”

Yelena tilted her head. “Doing what?”

Instead of answering, Bucky turned on his heel and started walking.

John and Yelena gave each other a wary look.

“I don’t like when he does that,” John said.

“No one does,” Yelena agreed, but they both followed anyway. 

It didn’t take long for them to recognise the route— ​​It was the neighbourhood where the team usually got coffee.

But Bucky wasn’t heading to the café.

They rounded the corner, and suddenly John stopped dead in his tracks.

It was a closed florist—the very one where Bucky had, allegedly, been trying to charm his way into a married woman’s bed.

To John’s absolute horror, Bucky walked right up to the door and knocked.

“Bucky.” He said, voice strangled. “What the hell is this?”

Yelena blinked. “I don’t think we need to seduce a married florist to get medical supplies.”

Bucky sighed, rubbing his temples like he was already regretting this decision. He turned to them, leveling them both with a look. “Alright, listen up,” he said through gritted teeth. "The secret’s out now, so you two gotta keep your mouths shut.”

John’s brows furrowed. “What secret?”

Before Bucky could answer, the door to the flower shop clicked open.

And there you were, standing in the doorway, wrapped in one of Bucky’s hoodies, looking exactly how he’d expected: exasperated but unsurprised. He knew you’d still be up, cataloguing the latest floral shipment for tomorrow’s arrangements.

The second your eyes landed on a bruised and bloodied Bucky, and flanked by two wounded Thunderbolts, no less—you let out a sigh.

“James,” you said knowingly, your voice laced with fond irritation. “What did you do?”

Yelena and John froze in their tracks.

James?

James?

No one called Bucky by his first name. No one. Not unless they had a death wish.

Bucky, unfazed, just stepped inside. “We ran out of antiseptics, honey.”

Yelena and John exchanged a wide-eyed look.

Honey?

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Again?”

Bucky shrugged like this was a perfectly normal Thursday night occurrence.

You muttered under your breath, “I should’ve known this would happen when I married an ex-assassin.”

Oh.

Yelena’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Married.” she repeated

John blinked rapidly. “This is why we can never go to your place?”

Bucky could only shrug. Of course it was— they would have seen the evidence of how much love in his home was carved out for just you.

John let out a wheeze.

Yelena pointed between you and Bucky, motioning erratically. “Wait. WAIT. So—so she’s your wife? She married you?”

Bucky nodded. “Yup.”

“Like—actually married?”

“Mhm.”

Yelena gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been personally betrayed. In a way, she had. “And no one knows?”

Bucky thought for a second. “Sam does.”

“And Joaquin,” you added, trying to be helpful.

Bucky nodded. “Right. Joaquin.”

“Oh, and Isaiah and Elijah Bradley.”

“Yeah, they were at the wedding.”

“A teenager knew about this,” John’s eye twitched, “—and we didn’t?”

Bucky could only nod again.

Yelena rubbed a hand down her face, “You gaslit us,” she accused, jabbing a finger at Bucky. “You let us believe you were a homewrecker for weeks—when you were married the whole time?!”

You snorted, glancing at Bucky, who had the audacity to look smug. “Yeah, that sounds like my husband.”

Yelena let out a string of very creative Russian curses.

John looked like he was about to have a stroke. 

“All secrets aside,” you said, welcoming the two disoriented Thunderbolts in and locking the door behind you, “It’s good to finally meet you both.”

John still looked like he was buffering. Yelena, on the other hand, was vibrating with adrenaline, looking like she was trying to solve a conspiracy theory in real time.

“This is—this is insane,” she muttered, pointing aggressively at Bucky, then at you, then back at Bucky. “You’re—you’re so normal.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’d like to think so.”

Bucky just hummed. “She’s perfect.”

Yelena actually sputtered like an old car engine.

John made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a strangled laugh. This was all too much.

But there wasn’t time to let them spiral further. Bucky, gently nudged you toward the others. “Take care of them first, darling. They’ve got worse injuries.”

You frowned, wanting to protest—because, really, Bucky should always be your first priority—but your husband was nothing if not stubborn. You knew better than to argue when he had that look in his eyes— you knew that fighting him on this would only drag things out longer, and right now, time was precious.

You turned your attention to Yelena and John, motioning for them to follow you deeper into the shop. The scent of lavender, roses, and freshly cut stems—clung to the air as you led them toward the back, where your little work table stood tucked in the corner.

Years of practice had made you quick. You moved with quiet efficiency, gathering supplies from neat shelves: you cut and split an aloe vera plant for burns, grabbed bandages, and a mix of balms you’d perfected over your time tending to Bucky. It wasn’t the kind of sterile, military-grade first aid they were used to, but it would have to do for now.

You started tending to Yelena’s arm, gently dabbing the wound with fresh aloe. She hissed through her teeth before narrowing her eyes at you.

“So how long has this been a thing?” she demanded. Bucky, now leaning lazily against the counter with his arms crossed, barely spared her a glance. “A while.”

John scoffed, “A while?”

You bit back a grin as you smoothed a bandage over Yelena’s arm, “Three years.”

Yelena’s jaw dropped.

“Three—” She turned to Bucky so fast it was a miracle she didn’t give herself whiplash. “You’ve been married for three years?!”

John let out a long, defeated groan,This was simply too much to process. “Fuck’s sake.”

Yelena shook her head. “I thought you were a loner who hated people."

Bucky only shrugged, unbothered. 

You chuckled as you pressed the last piece of medical tape into place on Yelena’s arm. “Alright, you’re done.” Then, glancing at John, you motioned for him to sit. “Your turn.”

John sighed but still plopped down. You took his hand gently, turning it over to examine his bruised knuckles before moving to his busted lip.

Meanwhile, they kept peppering you with questions, barely giving you room to breathe.

“How did you meet?”

“How do you put up with Bucky’s brooding?”

“Does he ever actually smile?”

At that last one, you paused, dabbing at John’s lip carefully. “He smiles all the time.”

John let out a scoff. “No, he doesn’t.”

You glanced over at Bucky, knowing he showed that part of him to you and no one else. “Oh, he does.”

And then, finally, it was Bucky’s turn.

You turned to him, your brows knitting together as you studied the little cuts on his cheek, the dried blood near his brows. He looked a little tired, a little worn around the edges. 

Your fingers found his chin, tilting his face toward you as you inspected the damage. Your touch was so featherlight, so incredibly careful. There was no missing the way your thumb brushed over his cheekbone— how incredibly gentle it was.

“You should’ve let me do you first,” you murmured, half-scolding, half-concerned.

Bucky’s lips curved into a small smile, a flicker of mischief lighting his tired blue eyes. “That’s exactly what you said last night, sweetheart.”

John choked.

Yelena groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow from the nearest chair and hurling it at Bucky’s head. “You two are disgusting.”

Bucky caught the pillow effortlessly, giving her a smug grin before setting it aside. When his eyes found yours again, his shit-eating grin turned… lovely. The tension in his brows eased as you dabbed gently at his cut. 

For all the blood, for all the bruises, you handled him like he was glass.

And then, without thinking, you leaned in.

It was meant to be a brief kiss— a quick reassurance, a way of saying I’ve got you. But the moment your lips brushed his, you couldn’t help but linger.

Your fingers curled instinctively against his chin. His hand found your waist without hesitation, as if he needed you closer. As if the world shrank down to just the two of you. 

John and Yelena exchanged a look, the previous horror of their teammate hiding a secret wife momentarily forgotten because this was… weirdly cute.

You giggled as you pulled away, seeing Bucky looking at you like you hung the moon for him. 

“Anywhere else?” you asked, brushing your thumb over his lips.

Bucky hesitated just for a second. Then, a little sheepishly, he said, “Got a cut on my ribs.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. Of course he did. Before he could argue, you reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged.

“Off,” you said simply.

Bucky huffed but didn’t fight you. He lifted his arms, letting you strip the fabric from his skin, and goddamn.

Bucky, half-naked, was unfairly, ridiculously beautiful. Even now, even after all this time, seeing him like this still knocked the breath from your lungs. His body was a roadmap of battles fought and survived, scars carved into the expanse of his chest and ribs that told stories only he could say. 

John made a strangled sound, somewhere between “Jesus Christ” and “I need to leave the room,” but you ignored him completely. Yelena let out a dramatic sigh and whispered “they are one second away from sucking each other’s face off,” to herself.

You tuned them both out, fingers dragging carefully over Bucky’s ribs, searching for the wound. When you found a thin jagged cut just below his ribs— you sighed softer this time and reached for the aloe.

“You need to stop getting hurt, my love,” you said, smoothing the cool gel over his skin.

Bucky’s voice came quieter. “Lucky I have someone to take care of me, then.”

And that’s when Yelena finally noticed it.

The thin chain around Bucky’s neck—one she’d always assumed was just for his dog tags—held something else, too.

A ring.

A simple wedding band that matched yours, worn from years of resting against his skin.

She blinked, realisation hitting her like a freight train. Oh.

That’s why he always played with it.

Every time Bucky was nervous, every time he was uncertain, his fingers would move to that chain—not just to fiddle with his tags, but to remind himself of you.

Maybe he wasn’t a complete jackass after all.

-end.

Note: Hope this doesn't bite me in the ass when the movie comes out.

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @shanksstrawhat @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

@imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings @fuckybarnes @yn-stories-are-my-life

[reader-without-a-story]

darlin!!! this was SO GOOD! 💚💚💚

“but bucky barnes was made of goodbyes” fucking WHAT?!?!!??!!!! DARLING!!! this is INCREDIBLE

You Never Said Stay

setting:Avengers Tower, post-mission

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Tags: angst, post-mission exhaustion, emotional distance, secret pining, team dynamics, soft tension, heartbreak

The quinjet touched down on the Tower’s roof just after midnight, blood and smoke still thick on your tongue.

Everyone looked like hell—Steve was limping, Natasha had her arm in a sling, and you? You were trying not to look at Bucky. Again.

He hadn’t spoken much since the mission went sideways. Not even when you’d taken a hit meant for him. Not even when your knees buckled from it and your hands shook and you bled through your suit.

You told yourself it was fine. You always told yourself it was fine.

Inside, the Tower hummed with quiet. Lights dimmed low. Everyone peeled off to their own corners of the floor—some limping, some angry, some silent.

You went straight to the med bay. No one followed.

Except him.

You didn’t hear him come in. But you felt him—like a ghost slipping between moments. That thing he always did, hovering like he wanted to say something but never did. You hated how your body responded—how your breath caught, how your skin felt hotter with him in the room.

“I’m fine,” you said, not looking up from where you were stitching your side.

“I know you’re not,” Bucky answered. Voice low. Guilt tucked into every syllable.

You laughed, bitter. “Wow. Barnes speaks.”

That made him flinch. Good. You were tired of being the only one who cared out loud.

"You took a hit," he said quietly.

“You were going to die.”

“I’ve died before” he murmured.

Your hands stopped. Needle frozen in your grip.

He was always like this—too much and never enough. Always pulling you in, then pushing you out like his past had built walls too high to climb.

You turned to face him. “Do you ever think—maybe you're not the only one with scars?”

His eyes met yours. Soft. Tired. That kind of tired that didn’t come from a lack of sleep—it came from surviving too long.

“I didn’t ask you to care,” he said, and your heart cracked open at the edges.

“No,” you whispered, “but you never told me not to.”

The silence between you stretched like a wound.

“You always leave after missions,” you said. “Like you’re running. Like being around us—around me—is too much.”

“It is,” he admitted. “You are.”

You looked down, ashamed at how much that hurt. But before you could say anything else, he added, “Because you make me want things I don’t think I deserve.”

Your breath caught.

Like peace. Like softness. Like you.

“Then stay,” you said.

And for a moment, he almost did.

He took one step forward. Eyes flickered to your hand. Then your lips. Then back to the door.

But Bucky Barnes was made of goodbyes.

So he left.

And all you could do was bleed in silence—half-stitched, half-loved, and fully broken.

—

if anyone has actually read this then hey! it’s my first time posting and i hope you liked it!! please let me know if i should post more 🙏

[reader-without-a-story]

😔🤚🏼

Adult women who have stuffed animals on their bed have the most fucked up kinks.