#letters from bucky

[buckybringsviolets]

Can I get a letter from 40s Bucky? Like an enemies to lovers one. Where he lists all the things that annoys him about her and then confesses that he actually loves them and her? A little angst to sweet sweet fluff?

Love>Hate

Hope this is what you had in mind!

40's Bucky X Female Reader

600+ words

No warnings except for lovesick Buck

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Little troublemaker,

      You asked me why I hate you so I’m gonna tell ya. I’m gonna try to keep my cool and not curse, but dammit doll, no one makes my blood boil like you do. And before you go and call me chicken for not confronting you in person with this, I’m only writin’ you ‘cause I don’t want to catch heck from Steve. 

Okay, here goes, right outta the gate, when we first met, at the age of 8. When Steve introduced you. “Bucky?! What kinda name’s that? Sounds like your ma & pa named you after a dog.” You then started giggling, Stevie joining in with ya. “It’s a nickname, short for Buchanan, my middle name.” I told you, a smirk on my face. And you just smiled at me.

 Even then, so young, but such a know-it-all. The way you talked, like you know everything, rattling off facts left and right, Ol’ Stevie just listening to ya like you’re the smartest person alive or something. “Did you know that horses and cows can sleep standing but only dream when lying down?” you’d look so proud, waiting for me to say something. “Yeah, that’s really something sweetheart.” 

 Speaking of Steve, don’t think I didn’t notice how you worked your way into his heart, by the time we were starting middle school it became Y/N & Steve this, Stevie & Y/N that. Stevie said you always asked about me, wondering why I was around much, but I think you were just looking to tease me about something. 

  That summer, between middle & high school? The trip the 3 of us took to Coney Island? Not only did you chase away Betty McIntosh (she was a real cookie! 😍) but you won that stuffed bear, THEN gave it to me! Jesus, doll, I wanted to win one for you!

  I’m not even going to start in on prom. Every girl I asked, every one, said no way, that I was too hung up on you. “Y/N?! Are you nuts?” then they’d say “Yes, y/n!”  I honestly don’t know what you told them to say that. But you must’ve said something. 

    And now, the way you go out with these guys, active duty men, I nicely warn you about them, ask you where they’re planning on taking ya. And you get all feisty with me “that’s none of your concern Bucky!”  Just me looking out for you, and you’ve gotta get all upset with me. Just being a gentleman and all I catch is flak.

  Doll, I’m gonna be a bit honest here, you kinda stunned me with what you said. “Bucky, why do you hate me?” a look on your face like I ain’t never seen before, something like concern, maybe heartbreak? And me, hate YOU? That is most certainly not something I could ever feel for you. 

  From the first time I saw you, when Stevie said “ this is y/n y/l/n, she’s new in town.” I knew. I was hooked. Doll, you are everything to me and more. But how could I ever tell you just how perfect you are? Not when I’m so… so not perfect. So I pushed you away. For your own good. Convinced myself you were better off without a mess up like myself. 

  So hate is not what I feel towards, for, you. Love, adoration, deep affection, definitely. You are amazing, gorgeous, so amazingly smart, generous to a fault. How could I not adore you, doll face? 

  Now before you start screaming at me, cut me some slack. I know I’m a dope, Stevie lets me know that every chance he gets. I’m crazy ‘bout you sweetheart, so maybe my brains a bit fried. 

 How about you let me take you out? Little dancing, a quick bite to eat, try my damndest to make it up to ya. Because y/n, you are IT for me. The endgame. ‘Till the end of line doll. 

  My love, always

  James Buchanan Barnes

[dear-reader-letters]

Somebody give this man a hug. He needs it.

Want a personalized letter from everyone’s favorite asset? Check out my Insta!

[babyhatesreality]

what if someone else tries to discipline stucky's babygirl?🥹🥹 like, some random dude who considers himself a daddy got mad for something she did?? i think daddy stucky would absoluty go ✨bersek✨

Oh....*Berserk* is putting it mildly....

But let's back up a bit first. You've been with Steve and Bucky long enough that you're truly and deeply one of the family. And with that, it means that you and your friends have gotten into plenty of trouble before at each other's places. You've been put in time outs by several of your extended family members- mostly Tony, Pepper, Natasha, and Bruce. There's a rule in the tower that if you're little and misbehaving while in their care, anyone in the family is allowed to give a time out. Of course it means you're in big trouble when your primary caregivers find out, so you don't ever MEAN to get into mischief. It just ...sometimes ...happens! Right?? :D

But there was this one time that SHIELD was introducing a group of new operatives. They were the ones who would be running some of the simpler operations that didn't require super strength, stealth, or swag. But they would have access to and contact with the Avengers, and so were brought into the Tower for training.

There was this one new recruit named Kenneth. He was tall, had a firm jaw, strong enough to handle pretty much anything- and had an extremely overblown sense of his own worth. He had decided (without asking anyone or confirming anything) that he was on his way to becoming the first civilian Avenger simply because...he was that awesome. Which he was not, but that comes later.

Since this new operatives team would also be responsible for looking out for low level threats to the Avengers themselves, they were briefed on all the Littles and Caregivers in the tower. So if, God forbid, something happened, they knew the chain of command to help take care of the Littles in a crisis situation- mostly getting the Littles to the correct Avenger.

Welp, as with most other things, Kenneth didn't feel these rules applied to him either. He knew that if he were ever to encounter one of you "littles" (as he put it, complete with his own stupid air quotes and a dumb look on his face), he'd make sure that he'd show his authority, and that would prove he could be an Avenger. *Sidenote-it's funny how these dude-bros' egos work, isn't it?*

One day Daddy and Papa had brought you upstairs with them, as had the rest of the caregivers with their own littles. It was an easy half day, and barring anything suddenly popping up, there was just regular paperwork and classified debriefings to meet about- a safe day for you all to be up there. The other littles were playing a game of tag in the big rec room, but you were feeling a little cranky from a rough night and just wanted to be on your daddies' laps. You would hop down off Bucky's lap ten minutes into a meeting to climb onto Steve's, and then back again ten minutes later. Hey, you were happy, they were happy, it was all good.

You politely asked if you could go get a drink of water, and after insisting that you could be a big girl by yourself, Bucky let you go down the hall to the kitchen area. And that's where you ran into Kenneth, who was sneaking up to the meeting, trying to make up some excuse as to why he needed to be in this Avengers-only debriefing (he was pretty sure they weren't even going to question his right to be there, but it was always good to have a plan B, right?).

He immediately identified you, and stopped you in the hallway by grabbing you by the shoulder (wrong move #1). "And where do you think you're going, little girl?" he asked you snidely (wrong move #2). You immediately stepped back, trying to get yourself out of his grip. You didn't know this guy, and you weren't supposed to talk to strangers. And no one was allowed to touch you without your permission. Daddy and Papa taught you well.

But Kenneth took that as defiance before you even opened your mouth, tightening his grip on your arm (wrong move #3...you get the idea). "You are not supposed to be wandering the halls by yourself, are you?" he sneered. "Some caregivers, just letting a helpless little girl wander around unguarded." He leaned into your face. "Someone could get hurt."

That scared you, as it sounded very threatening, so you shook your arm again, trying to pull away. "Please let go," you said through gritted teeth, trying to be polite (he was in the Tower after all, and no one got in without SHIELD's permission), but really wanting to kick this guy in his private area. Instead, Kenneth yanked your arm so hard that you cried out, and started dragging you towards the meeting room. He shoved you down onto your bottom right outside the doorway, then pointed a finger at you.

"You stay right there, little missy, and don't even think about moving. You've been very bad and you're in big trouble," he scolded, unwarranted. You just glared at him but didn't move. He didn't even bother knocking on the door to the meeting room- he just barged in.

"Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes? I've got something that you both need to see, immediately," he said arrogantly.

You heard the shuffle and scramble of your daddies moving quickly, and you knew they were panicking about you. But the second they got out of the doorway and saw you cowering on the floor with a glower on your face, they both stopped, confused.

"Baby, are you okay?" Bucky asked frantically, dropping to his knees and reaching out to you. You threw yourself into his arms, relieved.

"What happened? Why was she sitting on the floor?" Steve asked as he got down next to you and Bucky, brushing your hair away from your face and scanning you as hard as he could, looking for injuries.

"She was wandering around the halls, unsupervised," Kenneth replied lightly, the arrogance dripping off of him. "Then she was defiant and disobedient when I tried to help her."

" 'Tried to help her'?" Steve repeated, slowly standing up to face Kenneth. Anyone with half a brain could hear the steel in his voice and see the rage in his posture. Even Kenneth turned a bit pale at the fury he'd unknowingly invoked. "What...exactly...did she need help with?"

"Well, er...um..she wasn't supposed to be in the hallways-"

"She had permission to be there," Steve interrupted him. The aura of controlled anger about to snap that was radiating off your Papa was something to behold- you'd never seen him like this before and it was AWESOME. "She was getting a drink from the kitchen." He turned to you, smiling softly, but his vibranium-infused posture didn't change one bit. "Lovebug, were you able to get your drink?"

"No, Papa," you said simply.

"I see," he said, turning back to Kenneth as his gaze turned back to razor blades. "So you kept my baby from getting a drink when she's thirsty, you stopped her without permission and tried to get her to disobey OUR directives, and you barged into a classified meeting." He pinned the now completely pale Kenneth to the wall with only his clear cut steel blue gaze. "Anything else, baby girl?" he asked you without turning his head.

"He touched me," you added, then turned your gaze to Bucky, who was still holding you. "And it hurt my arm."

Bucky set you down gently, then stood up and faced Kenneth.

Kenneth was only able to remember three things from that moment until he woke up in the hospital. The first being the insanely loud thundering of crumbling concrete mixed with a strange whooshing sound that he couldn't immediately identify. There was also a cracking and a crunching that seemed to be coming from inside of him, but that didn't make any sense either...

The second thing was the fact that he was no longer in the hallway- he seemed to have somehow transported to another area that he was pretty sure was about three rooms away from where he'd just been standing.

The third thing was the sudden and overwhelming pain screaming all over his body. He had just enough time to realize that the Winter Soldier had thrown him through 3 solid walls before he blacked out.

When he woke up in the hospital, among the machines and IVs, he found a small cardboard box with all his desk items in it.

[bullshit-beach]

happy pride month yall ^_^! why not take a couple headcanons for the occasion?

Bucky is bigender(/possibly genderqueer) and bisexual, he and Olive are dating (but are polyam! and might have unofficially roped Giovanni into it too? V-polycule?)

Olive's a nonbinary lesbian (slay)

Giovanni feels gay and homophobic. half-joking… I feel like he'd be like "oh what no im not gay!!" and then looks at Bucky for a little too long and he's like OH NO

olive 🤝 gio = liking bucky but in a gay way despite him being a boy/girl respectively. olive loves her giovanni loves him, if that makes sense. 👍

Walter… there’s something lgbt going on there but im not sure what. I love him /p.

Might elaborate further on this later, if i can!

[dglvr1760]

That is all....

[serenailith]

letters from home

pairing: winterhawk (gen) rating: t tags: PTSD, alternate universe, pen pals, trauma, clint-centric chapters: 3/? ao3 here

in which clint finds out talking is hard and is adopted.

The next morning finds him clambering out of the backseat of a taxi, handing over a small wad of bills, and he stares up at the tall, imposing building that the cabby is pulling away from. Clint almost wonders if he’s in the wrong place—maybe the driver’s GPS is on the fritz or something—but no, there’s Natasha leaning against the side of the building, unmoving and unbothered by the people shoving past. Clint nearly chokes as he swallows past the lump in his throat. Her red hair shines in the mid-morning sun, and a small part of his brain questions how she always manages to look like a fuckin’ runway model when he always looks like he’s crawled out of a dumpster. Regular showers and clothes that actually come from a store, his brain replies in her voice.

He knows she has seen him from the way her shoulders tense imperceptibly and her foot shifts just enough to give her the advantage should he decide to run away like a coward. Clint knows it’s a losing battle to try to weasel his way out of doing whatever this is, so he straightens his spine, lifts his chin, and ambles toward her like he hasn’t got a care in the world. His resolve wavers when a businessman pushes by with way more force than is actually needed. Clint forces himself to keep going, even as he flips the guy off behind his back. A mother pushing her toddler in a pram shoots him a dirty look and hurries away.

“Top o’ the mornin’, Natty.”

Natasha’s eyes are hidden by her dark shades, but Clint knows he’s going to pay dearly for that comment. She ignores it for now, though, and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Ready?”

“Absolutely, definitely. This is a wonderful time for—whatever we’re doing.”

If Clint was a smarter man, he would be terrified by the sharp grin that Natasha flashes at him. It’s sickly sweet, full of feigned innocence, but edged with solid determination and a lack of humour. It reminds Clint of the smile that Bruce gives Dory and Marlin. He tries his best not to shiver at the threats that smile promises.

“We are doing nothing. You are talking to Doctor Brayden.”

His stomach drops to the ground, and he wonders if it would be too weird to start running while also kicking his own ass for not seeing this coming. He really, really should have. Natasha’s been on his case about therapy for, well, too long, and Coulson coming by last night to tell Clint he has a job offer that hinges on him seeing a psychiatrist? Yeah, the signs were all there. Clint is just too much of an idiot to actually have read them correctly. Or to recognise his psychiatrist’s office building.

Nat proves she can read his mind; her hand darts out, her fingers wrap around his wrist, and he knows there is no way he can get out of her hold without an outright fight occurring in the middle of the sidewalk—a fight that he would lose spectacularly. He may have the upper-hand in muscle mass, but what Natasha lacks in size, she more than makes up for in skill and speed. However aware that Clint is about his inability to win against her, he still tests her grip by attempting to tug his hand away. Her fingers only tighten in response, becoming vice-like and digging into his skin, and Clint gives up with at least a little grace.

His body sags in defeat, but he follows her regardless through the doorway. She shows her talent at being his, quite frankly, terrifying best friend by managing to manoeuvre him into the elevator while preventing others from stepping on. The doors close on the grumblings, and he grips the bar tightly as the lift starts to move. Natasha keeps her distance but still stays close enough for her presence to be a comfort.

Doctor Brayden gives Clint a sharp, assessing once-over when he finally gets comfortable in the chair twenty minutes later. He feels like he’s being x-rayed as the silence drags on. Finally, she nods, drags her gaze to the notepad on her lap, and writes something down. Clint can’t make out what it says—her handwriting is neat but so damn tiny, and it’s upside down right now, so he really had no shot at it—but he’s pretty sure it’s something about his lack of sessions in the last two months. He slouches in the armchair, crossing his legs at the ankle, and lets his head fall back to stare at the ceiling as he listens to the almost-soothing sound of the pen gliding across the paper.

The curtains on the windows have been drawn back, letting in sunlight that illuminates every corner of the room and makes the pale seafoam walls even lighter, more yellowish-white than green. The wax warmer on the bookshelf behind her desk is decorated with an explosion of flowers made up of thick black lines and fading ink in a variety of colours; the aroma of cinnamon-apples mixes with the clinical astringency of hand sanitiser. Weirdly, it doesn’t smell awful.

“So. It’s been a while.”

He shrugs. “I guess.”

“How are the nightmares?”

“They’re fine.”

“I see.” Clint can hear in her words the sigh that she’s stifling. “Agent Romanov seems very vested in your progress. Why do you think that is?”

“Because she’s my best friend. If I wasn’t around, who would she have to call a dumb-ass?”

“So she’s abusive?”

“No!”

Clint sees too late just how much he’s been tricked into showing something by the slightly smug smirk on the doctor’s face. He settles back in the chair, disappointed with himself, and frowns. He wants to ask if her smugness is against professional protocols, but that would give away that he even cares.

“Don’t worry, Clint. Your friendship with Agent Romanov is. . . interesting, to say the least, but it’s healthy enough in that she keeps you from regressing. While I don’t approve of the way she communicates with you—the calling you a dumbass, specifically—I cannot deny that without her help, you wouldn’t have been nearly this successful. Why don’t we talk about the flashbacks?”

Clint groans, whining out a “Do we gotta?”

“Yes, we ‘gotta’.”

So Clint speaks haltingly, trying to downplay the terror and anger he’s oscillated between each time he’s woken up from a nightmare or had a panic attack from the memories. Thankfully, Doctor Brayden lets him talk without interruption; Clint’s thankful for that. He doesn’t think he could broach the subject if he kept being talked over or had to answer probing questions.

He stares at his hands the entire time, unable to look in her eyes while he tells her about reliving the bombing, the death and carnage he witnessed firsthand because he failed to stop it. He can’t hear her writing over the echoing screams and orders being barked in his head. The usual rush of adrenalin and horror seems far away, as if it’s just something he’s watching on television. His chest is tight, but he can still breathe. Clint eventually falls silent, his words coming to a stop, and he waits with bated breath for Doctor Brayden to say something.

“Well. . . I can certainly see why those would be disconcerting.” She clears her throat, and her pen taps gently against the notepad in her lap—the only nervous tic she’s ever shown in any of the times Clint has been here. “I have no way to imagine how horrible those experiences were to go through, and the aftermath has obviously been Hell on you.”

“Ya think?” he retorts with a snort.

“Clint, I’m not trying to provoke you. I am merely trying to understand your brain a little better.”

This causes him to look up, meet her eye. “Yeah? Well, if you manage that, could you tell me all about it? Because I definitely don’t understand my brain at all, and it’s mine.”

The rest of the session goes much the same; once he’s talked about the nightmares, it’s as if some part of his brain refuses to let out any more secrets. He tries to talk more about the flashbacks, but nothing comes out. All that happens is his lungs feel ten sizes smaller, and he chokes on the words that go unspoken. He does manage, however, to tell her about Alyshia forcing him into writing to a pen pal. Doctor Brayden looks all too pleased with this announcement, and she tells him that she approves wholeheartedly of the fact. He shoots her a quizzical look, and she stifles a smile.

“Having a pen pal is a great way to get the socialisation that you need without the pressure of face-to-face conversation. In person, you have to stick to a relatively fast script, and you can’t take back what you say. With letters, you can take your time, rewrite, add and take away what you deem to be too little or too much.”

Clint mulls over her words before conceding that she has a point. Doesn’t mean he has to like it, though. It’s difficult enough to consider that he’s going to be writing letters to a stranger and getting them in return. He keeps that thought locked up; he really would like to not have that conversation.

Time runs out, and Doctor Brayden leads him out to the waiting area where Natasha sits in a chair, ostensibly reading the tabloid magazine in her hands. Clint knows she’s scoping out everyone who’s in the room, and he feels safer being so close to her. She rises smoothly to her feet, ambles to his side, and shakes the psychiatrist’s hand. The pinch in Clint’s side spurs him into the action of scheduling another—it’ll get his best friend off his back for now, and he can always cancel it later.

He forces a smile for the receptionist as he takes the appointment card and turns to follow Natasha out of the waiting lobby. She doesn’t speak to him as they take the elevator back down to the ground floor, but Clint can see the tiny tilt to her lips that says she’s proud of him. She keeps her eyes on the passing cars, her hand shooting out when she catches sight of a taxi, and he presses a quick kiss to her temple when the cab comes squealing to a stop by the curb. Her nose scrunches up as she shoves at him playfully.

His mailbox is empty save for one envelope, and Clint tucks it into his back pocket before heading up to his apartment. He feels all turned inside-out and twisted up, but it’s all obscured slightly by the hazy heaviness that floats through his veins. A car horn honks down on the street, someone shouts in response; Clint crosses the living room to land a light punch to the top of the air conditioning unit. It rattles to life with a high-pitched squeal, and he flops down onto his couch to enjoy the cool breeze. Something crinkles under his ass, and he reaches under himself to tug the envelope from his pocket.

24 August, 2018 Clint,

Thanks for your letter. Yeah, Lysh is very adamant about telling people what she wants. Her school started the Pen Pals with Soldiers program a couple years ago, and she’s been mine ever since. So I’m very familiar with her upfront personality - that kid’s gonna go far in life.

I was wondering why she hadn’t written back in a while. We usually have at least one letter a week, but the past couple have gone without. Them moving explains it…

My name is James Barnes, but most people call me Bucky (long story short, my parents are very patriotic and decided to name me after a fucking president). But you can call me Sarge if you want, I know Alyshia prefers to. I think she thinks “Bucky” is too funny to be a name. Don’t worry - I won’t judge you too harshly for being a trainwreck as long as you don’t judge me too harshly for being a panicking mess liking big band music.

I can’t say that I like my coffee that dark, honestly, but coffee is ALWAYS good. I’ll drink it black if I gotta (and right now I gotta), but it’s not my preference. Dogs are cool. I personally like cats better, since they require less work - seriously, clean their litter box and fill their food bowls, and bam! They’re fine with ya. I had a dog growing up. She was pretty awesome. Lots of work, though. Had to take her on walks three times a day and brush her every day or so or she’d shed EVERYWHERE. It was ridiculous, honestly.

Please don’t run away with another person’s dog. That’s asking for jail time, and I don’t know how pretty you are, but I’m sure you wouldn’t last in there (I’m assuming your handwriting is no reflection of your looks because if so, I’m sorry you’re so ugly) (kidding. I’m totally kidding) Pizza is a New York staple so if you don’t like pizza, you ain’t a New Yorker. I’ve watched an episode or two of Dog Cops - never really have much time to watch it lately. I’ll check it out when I get the chance.

Uhhh… I guess I should say some stuff about me then, huh. Okay, I’m 29, got a best friend Stevie who’s the biggest self-sacrificing idiot known to man, and I like plums. I really don’t know what to talk about. I’m used to writing to Alyshia who fills her letters with information that I can respond to.

Anyway. Better go. - Sarge/Bucky (whichever you prefer)

Clint laughs as he rereads the letter in his hands. Who the hell goes by the name of Bucky? It’s a ridiculous name, and this “Bucky” guy should feel ridiculous. And that dig about Clint’s handwriting? Hilarious. He slides the letter back into its envelope and drops it on the counter. He figures he can write back later.

The air is sticky with humidity, and the rattling air conditioner in the window does very little to break up the heavy heat. Clint sprawls out on the couch and lets the small stream of cool air skim over his skin. He is slowly starting to nod off when his phone vibrates in his back pocket. A sleepy giggle escapes at the tickling sensation along his ass cheek before he realises it’s an actual phone call, and if it’s Coulson, Clint is going to have Hell to pay if he ignores it.

“Unless the world is ending, I don’t care,” he gives as a greeting, then snorts. “Actually, scratch out. Even if the world is ending, I don’t care.”

“Barton?”

“Sir, I’m trying to nap. Talking is hard.”

“So you went to therapy then,” Coulson surmises; his voice is bland enough, but Clint can absolutely hear the pride in it.

“Yes, and I hated it.”

“Keep going.”

Clint groans, ignores the petulant whine in the sound, but ultimately agrees. There’s something to be said about being praised by someone he respects that keeps him from acting too much like a child even when it involves something he hates with a passion. Coulson hangs up a moment later with a terse goodbye—the noise in the background tells Clint that his supervisor is about to be using that specific tone that tells an agent just how badly they screwed up without actually saying they screwed up.

Clint can only hope it wasn’t Natasha’s partner; he dismisses the thought quickly. If it had been her partner, his body would never be found for Coulson to even talk to. Clint settles back onto the couch, closes his eyes, and drifts off to the sound of the traffic outside, his neighbours stomping around, and the unit shaking and wheezing in the window.

When he wakes, the sun has started its slow descent toward the horizon, patchy blocks of light illuminating the living room. He stretches, scratches at an itch on his temple, and slowly shoves himself to a sitting position. He feels rather well rested considering he slept on a couch, but he isn’t going to question it. Instead, he stumbles to the kitchen and digs through the pile of leaflets on the counter for the nearest menu with the word “pizza” on it.

Clint makes his way to the bathroom once the order is placed; he does his business and washes his hands. A glass shatters in the apartment to his right, and he winces when their baby’s crying starts up, shrill and grating. The crying carries on for long minutes and is still echoing through the hall when Clint opens the door to get the pizza from the delivery kid. He’s just shut the door and turned around when he abruptly stops.

“And who are you?”

Of course the dog doesn’t respond, merely pants with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. Clint stares at the dog, the dog stares back. Eventually, Clint blinks stupidly a few times, mutters something about not losing a fuckin’ staring contest to a one-eyed dog, and heads to the kitchen. Soft footsteps pad along behind him. He sets the box down on the counter and flips open the lid. The aroma of gooey, melted cheese and spiced, acidic sauce float up into the air; his mouth starts watering instantly, and he doesn’t care about the steam or the fact that the pizza is still hot—he grabs a slice and shoves half of it in his mouth in one go. He turns to glare at the dog when it lets out a quiet but demanding woof.

“Dogs can’t have pizza, go away.”

Clint tosses the dog the rest of the slice when it doesn’t do as ordered, grabbing another and closing the box just in case the mutt has any thoughts about eating more. He eats three more slices before his stomach feels tight and overfull. The dog follows him back into the living room and hops up onto the couch, curling into a ball on one end. Clint grunts, not in the mood to upset a dog and risk getting bitten. With a sigh, he lets his body fall back onto the opposite end of the couch, lifts his legs and stretches out across the cushions, and reaches for the remote. The dog stares at him, blinks its one eye.

“Don’t think about it,” Clint warns, but like the last time he gave an order, he’s ignored.

The dog huffs and scoots its way down the sofa until its sprawled alongside Clint. Clint has to admit it’s nice to have the warmth and company, so he scratches gently behind the dog’s ear and grins at the way the dog seems to be smiling. There’s no collar around its neck, and Clint wonders if this means he gets to keep the dog. He shrugs it off, figures he’ll find out at a later time. He doesn’t stop the dog from following him to the bedroom an hour later or climbing into the bed.

When Clint startles awake in the middle of the night, a silent scream on his lips, the pizza-loving dog is right there, pressed tight against his side, burying its wet nose into his neck and breathing evenly. Clint doesn’t think about it; he just tries to match his breaths with the dog’s and soon enough, he finds it’s worked. His skin is still clammy and still feels too small, but he can breathe without choking on the memories of ash and smoke.

“Lucky I got you, huh?” he rasps out once he isn’t shaking so hard. The dog’s tail thumps against the mattress, and Clint furrows his brows. “Lucky?”

A slobbery lick across his cheek is his response, and Clint splutters, groans, and wipes his face with the edge of his sheet, but he doesn’t kick the dog—Lucky, evidently—out of the bed. Instead, he scoots over just a little and rolls onto his side so that Lucky can get more comfortable. Clint brushes his fingers through soft golden fur and waits for the sunrise. Strangely, he’s asleep again before he can see the sun.

Lucky whimpers insistently from next to the bed, dragging Clint from a relatively restful sleep. He opens bleary eyes and frowns. The dog doesn’t look injured, but Clint can’t really tell. He could have punched the dog in his sleep, for all he knows. The longer he stares at Lucky, the more demanding Lucky’s whines become, and it finally clicks.

“Aw, Lucky, no. You gotta go?”

Lucky barks once and bolts toward the front door. Clint climbs out of bed, grumbling the entire time, and finds the least ratty pair of sweats he owns, slides them on.

“All right, well, I don’t have a leash, so. . . Come when I call for you, I guess?”

Clint barely gets the door unlocked and opened before Lucky is slithering through the gap and barrelling down the hall toward the stairs. Clint follows at a much more sedate—and sleepy—pace. The sky is still a deep navy, tinged with the faintest streak of pink and orange through the buildings, and Clint yawns widely. He waits as patiently as he can while Lucky sniffs around trees and lamp posts, finally lifting one leg to pee squarely on the rear tire of someone’s beat-up truck. Clint snorts and whistles for the dog.

Lucky trots up to him happily then, after snuffling at Clint’s hand, turns and makes his way to a patch of dead grass ten feet away. Clint stares up at the sky to give his new pup some privacy. Once Lucky is finished, Clint glances both ways down the street, sees no one else, and ushers the dog inside.

I’ll clean it up later, he thinks to himself as he lumbers up the stairs. Lucky flops onto the floor inside the apartment, rolls around wildly; Clint rolls his eyes when the dog doesn’t do anything else but lie there and stare up at him. Clint crosses the room to the coffee table where Sarge’s letter still sits. Without really thinking about it, Clint decides to write another letter to the sergeant, so he goes off in search of paper. All he can find, however, is a pocket-size notebook that he thinks belonged to Nat at some point. He shrugs and opens it up anyway. It’ll have to do for now.

28 August, 2018 Sarge,

Big band music? What, you originally from the 40s or something? Sorry, not judging - don’t worry. I’m just really tired so my brain to mouth - or, well, hand - filter is basically gone right now.

I got a dog. Or maybe it got me. I don’t even know. All I know is I ordered pizza, it showed up, and now it hasn’t left my side. It’s only been a couple hours so who knows. It might get smart and realise I’m kinda a crappy human and it made a mistake. Are dogs smart enough to know that kinda stuff?

Who the Hell names their kid ‘Bucky’? Kidding (mostly).

If YOUR handwriting is any sign, you’re just as ugly as me. So there. That was childish, wasn’t it? Oh well. Nat says I have the emotional maturity of a toddler so I guess it fits.

Plums are disgusting. Kiwis are where it’s at. Just don’t tell Nat I like fruit, or she’ll make me eat more of it. She’s scary and I don’t have the energy to deal with it. She’s my best friend, by the way. Not as self-sacrificing or an idiot like your friend Stevie, but still loyal (I’m assuming he’s loyal).

I’m not calling you Bucky. - Clint

Letter finished, Clint stares down at the words he’s written then sighs. He tried to be interesting. There just isn’t much interesting about him. Sure, he had a career as a sniper, but the glitz and glamour of it is hyped up by the media. It was nothing but lying completely still in high places, waiting for orders, and taking the shot from your position. Or, if you were him, throwing yourself off the ledge to take the shot without hitting the innocent civilian being held captive. Still. Nothing glamorous about the damn job.

Stupid media making it look better than it is.

Another week of doing nothing but hanging out with his new dog—no one has come to claim the mutt, and Clint doubts he’d leave even if his owners showed up. Lucky won’t stray from Clint’s side except when Clint forces him out of the bathroom. When pizza is involved, Lucky won’t budge. Clint doesn’t mind. It’s actually kinda nice to not be alone.

Another therapy session. Doctor Brayden is pleased to hear that Clint has adopted a dog—or, rather, been adopted by the dog. “Having someone other than yourself to take care of can give you a sense of purpose other than self-pity and wallowing.”

“I don’t wallow,” protests Clint, but even he can hear the lie in it. He can’t deny that there is absolutely some degree of self-pity and -hatred in there somewhere. It’s his fault the last op went disastrously, and he loathes himself for not doing a better job.

“Clint, Clint.”

The screams disappear, though the smoke lingers. He shakes his head, but the stench remains in his nostrils. “What?”

“Talk to me. Come back to the present.”

“It was my fault,” he admits after a long minute. It’s too much, but Coulson and Doctor Brayden demand honesty. He has to release the guilt. He doesn’t know how. “I didn’t see—I didn’t think he was a risk. He looked like the rest of them. The innocent ones. But he was one of them. The bad guys, I mean. If I’d thought about it, I would’ve known.”

“How?”

“What?”

“How would you have known he’d be the one to plant the second bomb?”

Clint thinks back as best as he can. It isn’t much, considering his mind is only full of the aftermath. The explosions, the screams, the carnage. He couldn’t have known. SHIELD had determined the bombs were crude, packing a punch despite their size. Unless Clint had X-ray vision, he would never have seen the explosive.

He still should have seen it. He should have known. He should have known. He should have known. He should—

“Agent Barton.”

“I should have known.”

Before she can say more, Clint is on his feet and out the door. The doctor doesn’t call after him, and he’s thankful for that. He can’t handle any more of her psychoanalysing. He stops by the reception desk to get his next appointment card then leaves.

Lucky peers blearily at Clint with his one eye when the human walks into the flat an hour later. The room fills with lazy thumps as Lucky wags his tail, but the dog doesn’t move from his spot in the sunshine streaming through the windows. Clint hesitates but ultimately lies on the floor beside the mutt, closing his eyes as his skin heats up.

Lucky has it right—the sun makes everything feel a little better.

I think i annoyed doc

Natasha’s reply comes within seconds: Will call you to talk about this. Op.

Of course she’s on another op. SHIELD doesn’t slow down, even when the world thinks nothing is going on. The country is blind to the threats it faces, and the organisation wants it that way. Panic only makes their jobs harder. Clint used to have that job until he proved himself a fatal mistake. Coulson should never have taken that chance on Clint.

Clint trusts Coulson without hesitation, but Coulson should never have trusted Clint.

3 September 2018 Sarge,

What do you do when you feel like you’ve screwed up beyond any repair? I made a mistake, and people got killed. I don’t know what to do now. - Clint

He crumples up the paper and tosses it in the bin. Sarge doesn’t deserve to know his newest pen pal is an utter disgrace. Lucky stares at him from the floor, huffing as his head falls back to the wood, then lets out a loud snore within seconds. Clint wishes he was a dog. Then he’d actually get some sleep.

[imxthexhandler]

Dear Amelia, Maybe letters are a little old fashioned, but the way I see it, I'm an old fashioned guy who needs to put it down on paper just how much he loves you. You challenge me every day, and I love you for it. You are amazing in everyway. I love you.

Send my muse love letters on anon. Bonus points if you drop a hint on who sent it. -----------------------------

"Letters may be old-fashioned...but I think that's one of the reasons why they're special."

"Thank you."

[buckyalpine]

Bucky in blue pjs who is soft and shy and so cute but sometimes sleeps naked when it gets too hot - I really love a happy, cuddly, shy Bucky. I thought this was adorable, I refuse to not make you all think about it too:

Bucky who got the softest pair of baby blue pj's for his birthday and it's all he wears to sleep. It's his favorite thing ever. He blushed when he saw the letters JBB sewed on the inside; he has no idea who got it for him and he's happy to let it remain a mystery though he secretly hopes they're from you. He saw you sneaking a peek at the size label of his t shirt before scurrying off out the door.

He looks so cozy when he's lounging in them, usually tucked in some corner with a book, a glass of milk and some chocolate chip cookies. He was also given a new pillow; a firm one that wasn't too soft. At first he was reluctant to use it but now he can't go anywhere without it. Imagine how precious he'd look trudging around with it on a moving night because he's sleepy but he doesn't want to miss out either. He starts off awake but seconds later, his face is smushed into the pillow and he's softly snoring. You always make sure to tuck him in with the throw blanket and it never fails to make him let out a content little sigh. Him being a soft, shy little cutie is exactly why the next part is everything.

Him sleeping naked.

As the weather warms up, the AC is on full blast and thank god for Stark technology because it can get as cold as winter if needed.

However.

It wasn't perfect.

It conked out and it leaves everyone as grumpy as ever because no one can sleep and Tony keeps insisting he'll figure it out any day now. Everyone looks miserable except Bucky. He looks as happy as a clam coming down for breakfast in his favorite pj's.

"How on earth did you get any sleep Bucky?" You can't believe he looks so well rested, especially when he has the serum that keeps him extra warm.

"And you're in full on pajamas, you slept in that?!" Steve gawks from the side while you also continue to look at him curiously, his cheeks tinting pink.

"I-

What no one knows is Bucky sleeps naked as the day he was born when it gets too hot. His body did a decent job of regulating heat on its own but throwing off the extra layers didn't hurt.

Of course, he didn't want to tell anyone that part.

The part where when it gets too warm, he starts off by shucking off his shirt. Then eventually his pants. He could keep his boxers on but his door was locked and it just feel so freeing-

"Buck?"

"I slept fine!" He blurts out hoping you wouldn't pry anymore while his best friend stares at him suspiciously. He races out of the kitchen as soon as he has his coffee and he hopes to drop the subject.

But he isn't so lucky.

Because on a particularly exhausting night, he doesn't realize he didn't fully shut his door. You were on your way to your room, peeking in to say goodnight seeing as he hadn't closed the door yet but-

You squeaked seeing his perfectly toned ass, thighs spread apart, back muscles relaxed, all on full display, blinking frozen on the spot before quickly slipping out of his room and shutting the door behind you.

You're beyond giddy for the rest night, unable to shake the image of a very naked, sleeping Bucky out of your mind; his pretty face relaxed, the gentle snores, his meaty legs, his cute butt-

stop.

You will yourself to think of something else but how could you when he looked so perfect. The next day Bucky notices you acting jumpy around him while making breakfast which is unusual for you...

"Everything okay, y/n?" He asks so gently and you nearly melt on the spot, biting back a smile.

"I-I came by your room to say good night, thought you were still awake" You shrug, eyes flicking to his before looking back down at your feet, letting him piece together what you were hinting at. His brows furrow before his eyes grow wide, cheeks flushed down to his neck and up to his ears. You could have sworn you heard him squeak when he stammers out a response. Barely.

"Oh-I-when-what time did you come" He has no idea what you saw or didn't see but either way he knows you know. He hadn't even bothered with clothes the night before going right from the shower straight to bed, fuck what if you didn't want to speak to him again-

"I see why you're able to sleep so well now. It's our secret" You throw him a wink, giggling before running off and Bucky nearly faints himself, he thought he couldn't possibly fall in love more but-

Anyway idk what's wrong with me, my mind has been off the deep end somewhere.

[ellemj]

Letters to Santa, Part 2: 12 Days of Smut #11

Bucky Barnes x Reader 2-Part Fic

Request/prompt courtesy of @stuckysbike. Read part 1 here.

Warnings: profanity, dirty talk, teasing, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: There is a scene in this that was wholly inspired by one of @littlemiss-yeehaw's latest smutty sketches, check out her blog and comment on the sketch that you think I used! This is a continuation of the request submitted by @stuckysbike, thank you again for submitting it and trusting me to give it a go! I've decided that day 12 will simply be the gift that comes tomorrow (today technically, in less than 24 hours): Needs & Wants Bonus Chapter.

            You can’t deny that you look a little bit like a Christmas gift all wrapped up in your short little burgundy bathrobe. You’ve just finished showering and doing your skincare, and you’re flipping off the bathroom light switch when you hear the softest knock at your door. You stand still for a moment, wondering if you actually heard what you think you heard. The only person who ever comes to your door is one of the girls, and even then, they never knock, they simply let themselves in. You hear the knocking sound a second time and your feet begin carrying you away from the bathroom, across your room, and straight to the door. When you pull it open, Bucky stands before you, looking like he has a million things to say but very few words to utilize.

            “Bucky?” You say his name like you aren’t even sure it’s him, but obviously it is. His eyes are quick to coast down your figure, taking in the sight of you in that little burgundy robe with the tie around your waist fashioned into a bow. You look like a fucking gift. Someone to unwrap me like a Christmas present. The first wish from the list in your dirty letter to Santa flashes through Bucky’s mind as he memorizes every detail about the way you look right now.

            “How much did you have to drink tonight?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at you as he finally focuses his gaze on your face. You scrunch up your cheeks and nose in annoyance. You can’t believe he’d have the audacity to knock on your door and ask you something like that.

            “Why the hell are you here asking me that?”

            “Because if you had a lot to drink, then your letter to Santa ending up underneath my bedroom door might’ve just been a momentary lapse in judgement. But if you didn’t then…” Bucky lets his voice trail off as he studies your expression, looking for any answer to the countless questions he has swirling around in his head.

            “My letter? Under your door?” You ask incredulously. You immediately begin backtracking in your mind, remembering how you started cleaning up the kitchen and totally forgot about the letter you left sitting on the coffee table. One of the girls or Sam must’ve grabbed it and slid it under Bucky’s door as some stupid prank. Your face falls as you realize he very well could’ve opened it and read it. “Wait, you didn’t…” When your shocked eyes look into Bucky’s, he almost wishes he hadn’t read it.

            “So, you didn’t slide it under my door.” Bucky confirms. Why is there a hint of disappointment in his tone? Are you imagining it? Was he hoping that you had? Wait, why the fuck did he decide to knock on your door? Just to ask how much you had to drink and to find out if you gave him the letter yourself? What would he have done if it really had been you? By the time you pull yourself out of your whirlwind of thoughts, you see Bucky giving you one last look before turning on his heel to head back to his own room. All inhibitions flee as you start moving without thinking. There isn’t one thought left in your mind when you reach out and grab Bucky by the arm, stopping him in his tracks. He tenses up as soon as your hand meets the fabric of the sweatshirt that’s covering his flesh bicep, but he doesn’t pull away from you. Instead, he turns back to face you as your hand falls away from him.

            “You read it.” You say softly, not quite sure where your mouth is about to take this unexpected conversation. Bucky nods, his eyes scanning yours for any sort of reaction. “It was a joke letter, just a stupid game Nat wanted us to play.” Bucky nods again, maintaining eye contact with you as you fiddle with the bow at the front of your robe.

            “Right, I can’t imagine you’d actually want someone to cum down your chimney.” Your words written on a piece of paper were dirty, but somehow hearing them leave Bucky’s mouth makes them absolutely filthy. You can feel the blush creeping into your cheeks, turning them a soft shade of pink, as you stare up at the man with your lips slightly parted in surprise. A small smirk tugs on the corners of his lips. You don’t quite like how he’s enjoying your surprised reaction, so you decide to try and get a similar reaction out of him, just so you’ll be even.

            “Why not? It was on my list, wasn’t it? I also asked for three orgasms in one night, if I remember correctly.” Now Bucky’s the one with the parted lips and a raised eyebrow. He probably would’ve even blushed if all of the blood in his body hadn’t rushed straight to his cock. “What was the other thing I asked for?” You can’t remember what else you’d written in the letter, but now you’re sure that Bucky does. Bucky stares at you for a moment, taking in your pink cheeks, your playful gaze, and the way your arms are currently crossed over your chest as you toy with him. He decides to take the leap.

            Bucky slowly reaches out with his flesh hand, giving you every opportunity to either swat his hand away or step back and close the door on him, but you don’t. You follow his movement with your eyes, watching as his fingertips first brush over the fabric around the neck of your robe, and then begin to trail down the front of it lightly until he reaches the bow. He grabs one of the ends of the tie, his eyes flitting up to yours before he makes another move. You don’t say a word. You don’t move a muscle. You’re actually holding your breath. So, Bucky continues. He tugs on the end of the tie with just enough force to unravel the bow and loosen your bathrobe right there in the doorway of your bedroom. You’re still fully covered, but one move and the front of it may fall open and reveal your naked body to the man in front of you. Bucky reaches out with both hands now, as he takes one step forward, limiting the space between the two of you to just a few inches. He wraps his fingers around each side of the opening of your robe, holding them in place so nothing is bared to him, but wanting nothing more than to throw it open. His actions suddenly remind you of the forgotten wish on your list: someone to unwrap me like a Christmas present. Realization spreads across your face and Bucky gives you a soft smile as your eyes meet his.

            “Is this what you asked for?” He questions, rubbing his thumbs over where he holds the fabric of the robe in between his fingertips. You swallow hard and nod slowly. “I know you can use your words, just like you did in the letter.”

Fuck.

“This is one thing.” You answer softly. Bucky could stop here. He could let go of your robe and let you shut the door on him. But the way you’re looking up at him, letting your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you patiently wait for his next move, it makes it impossible for him to stop after only fulfilling one of your wishes. Besides, he hasn’t even fully unwrapped you. It wouldn’t be fair to you if he stopped now.

So, Bucky lets his instincts take over, throwing his rational mind out the window. He looks into your eyes one last time, and you can tell from the lilt in his brow and the serious expression painted on his face that he’s making sure he has your permission. The slight nod that you give him is all he needs. In one swift movement, he’s pulling you against his chest by the front of your robe. When you practically crash against him, he lets his vibranium hand rise to cup the side of your face. His eyes are the most mesmerizing blue, making it simultaneously hard to look into them yet hard to look away. Bucky can’t stop himself from placing his cool, vibranium thumb over your lips, and then dragging it down until it just barely sits between your parted lips. He wants to see how you’ll respond to his touch.

When you part your lips a little more, Bucky knows he’s done for. He won’t be going back to his room at all tonight, he fears. He watches you so closely as his thumb slides past your lips, slipping into your mouth and rubbing over the surface of your tongue as you wrap your lips around it and suck. Fuck. He wishes he’d done it with his flesh hand so he could feel your mouth. Or maybe it’s best that he used the vibranium hand, because if he felt what his vibranium thumb is experiencing right now, he might’ve ended up wanting you to suck him off, and he doesn’t remember seeing that on your Christmas list.

You let Bucky pull his finger out of your mouth with a soft pop of your lips, watching as lust floods into his gaze. In this exact moment, you just want to thank whoever it was that slipped your letter under his door. You have a feeling they did you the biggest favor.

Just a second after Bucky has removed his thumb from your mouth, you’re turning on your heel and heading back into your bedroom, trusting that he’ll follow you without a word. You hear the door click and then the sound of the lock turning just as you reach the foot of your bed. You’re just about to ask Bucky to finish unwrapping you when he’s suddenly right behind you, letting his hands slide over your hips to pull you against him as he leans down and presses his lips to the side of your neck. His mouth is so distracting that you don’t even notice what he’s doing until your robe begins falling off of your shoulders, coming to pool at your feet on the floor. In Bucky’s head, he’s mentally crossing off the first thing on your list.

“You’ll sit on my face.” Bucky says boldly, moving around you and climbing onto your bed like he’s done it a thousand times before. He positions himself on his back, with his head resting flat on your pillow, and his eyes flitting over to get a look at you. The way his gaze trails all over every inch of your naked body lights a fire inside of you, that you think may only be extinguished by riding an orgasm out on his face. So, you don’t question him or second-guess yourself. You do exactly as he wants, carefully positioning yourself to straddle his face. He was planning to take it slow, figure out what you like and what you don’t like, drag you up the hill to your first orgasm slowly. But as soon as he saw your glistening cunt, hovering mere inches above his face, he couldn’t keep himself from gripping your thighs and pulling you down hard. His tongue made contact with your entrance first, and he dove into it with a fiery passion, first dragging his tongue around it in circles, teasing you effortlessly. When you felt the first dip of his tongue inside you, your hands flew to the wooden headboard, holding onto it so tightly that you worried it might splinter.

“Bucky, oh my god.” You moan, letting your right hand float down to tangle in his hair as he licks a line from your entrance, through your folds, and straight to your clit. When he finally starts licking and sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves there, you know you won’t last long like this. Moans and whimpers start falling from your lips freely, spurring Bucky on and encouraging him to hold you in place as he works you closer and closer to the edge. “I’m going to cum.”

Bucky almost laughs against your clit, but he controls himself and continues sucking and swirling his tongue right where you need it most. He almost laughed because of how fucking easy it was to get you on the verge of cumming for him. He knew he was good at this, but he didn’t know you’d be so ready and willing for him to please you. When you go tumbling over the edge, waves of pleasure rock through you so hard that you nearly put all of your weight on Bucky’s face. Truthfully, he would’ve welcomed it, but he also has other plans that he wants to carry out.

As you hover above Bucky, catching your breath and trying to calm your trembling thighs, Bucky places a soft kiss against your clit before sliding his hands up to your waist and helping you move to lay on your back next to him.

“That was number one.” He whispers, crawling over you and pressing his lips against your jawline. He lets the tip of his tongue slide over your cheek teasingly, and when he nears your lips, you can nearly taste yourself on him. He uses his knee to nudge your legs apart while continuing his ministrations along your jaw and neck, drawing soft exhales from you with ease.

“Let me catch my breath first.” You laugh lightly. Bucky’s fingers are already diving between your legs, gently slipping back and forth over your folds as he gathers your wetness and spreads it around.

“That wasn’t something you put on the list, catching your breath after any of the three orgasms.” Bucky points out, focusing the pads of his middle and ring fingers over your already overly-sensitive clit and applying a light pressure. “I think you can handle this.” He coos. Fuck. Your back is already arching, causing your tits to press against his still-clothed chest. You start to wonder why the hell he still has his clothes on, but your train of thought is immediately derailed when you feel his middle finger slip inside of you without a warning. It’s been so long since anyone has done this to you, and even since you’ve taken the time to do it to yourself, so the stretch that you feel gives you a stinging pain that causes you to draw in a sharp breath and tighten around his fingertip. “Oh, you’re so fucking tight. How are you going to be able to take my cock, huh baby?” You aren’t sure what gets the loudest moan out of you, his finger plunging into you as far as he can send it or his words. He plans to fuck you.

“I’ll take it.” You promise, not even thinking about what you’re promising. Bucky chuckles lowly before pulling his finger out of you and shoving it back in, beginning to fuck you with it over and over again.

“You’ll take it.” Bucky agrees, adding a second finger as he looks down into your eyes and watches the way your teeth once again sink into your bottom lip. “You’ll take it if you want that last thing on your list.”

Bucky Barnes promising to cum inside of you is the very last thing you expected to get for Christmas. It’s only a couple of minutes later when he’s thrusting his two fingers in and out of you in such a coordinated manner that you’re seconds from another orgasm. Bucky curling his fingers inside of you is what sends you careening over the edge, your second orgasm crashing in so hard that you reach down and grasp Bucky’s hand, holding it still as you roll your hips, riding your high out on his fingers yourself. He’s in awe of you. He’s in awe of every little movement, every little sound, everything you do as you cum for him.

“That’s number two.” Bucky whispers against your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your smooth skin as you finally release his hand and let him slide his fingers out of you. As soon as your breathing begins to slow back to a normal rate, Bucky is pushing himself off of the bed and pulling his sweatshirt over his head. You prop yourself up on your elbows, taking in the curve of his shoulders, the soft scars where vibranium meets skin, and the heaving of his chest. When he pushes off his sweats and boxers, letting his cock spring free from its confines and finally stand fully on display for you, your mouth falls open. “Remember, you said you’d take it.” Bucky reminds you, wrapping his hand around the impressive length and stroking it slowly as he crawls back over you on the bed. “Turn over.”

Once he has you laying on your stomach, he leans down over you, letting his warm chest press against your bare back. You feel his hard cock resting against your ass as he inhales the sweet scent of your shampoo, closing his eyes and wondering to himself if you’ve always smelled this damn good. The next few seconds are both a blur and seemingly happening in slow motion as Bucky guides you to slide your knees underneath you and raise your ass up for him. Feeling the head of his cock brush against your entrance has you seeing stars, not even from pleasure, but from anticipation and pure adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Bucky, please.” You moan, pushing your ass against his length, begging for him to fuck you already. He chuckles lowly once again but obliges, rubbing the tip of his cock back and forth through the wetness coating your folds a few more times before finally slotting his cock into you. You feel every inch as it disappears inside you. You feel it move in the slightest every time Bucky so much as takes a breath. He buries himself to the hilt and then stills, his breath fanning across your neck as you bury your face in your pillow. The grunt that rumbles past his lips sends a rush of heat through your body, traveling straight to your cunt, which then flutters around his shaft.

“Oh, fuck, baby.” He groans out, squeezing his eyes shut and dragging his cock out of you slowly. When he thrusts it back in a second later, he can’t bear to stop again. He starts fucking you so hard that you can’t do a damn thing besides moaning out his name and gripping the bedsheets with both hands. It’s a sight Bucky vows never to forget. “This is what you wanted for Christmas, huh? Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes! God, yes, Bucky.” He loves the way you sound when you’re at his mercy like this. He picks up the pace of the snapping of his hips, watching as your knuckles turn nearly as white as the sheets he’s fucking you on.

“That’s it, take my fucking cock just like that.” Never in your wildest dreams could you have conjured up with a dirty talking Bucky Barnes. He’s filthy. He continues thrusting into you, over and over, relishing in the feeling of your pussy pulling him back in every time he tries to pull out. “You’re going to let me cum inside of you, aren’t you? That’s what you want for Christmas.”

“Yes, please. Fuck, don’t pull out.”

“Good girl, that’s it baby.”  Just a few more thrusts from Bucky have you fighting to hold back your orgasm, and he can tell. “Don’t fucking keep it from me, let it go.” He demands, gripping your hips and pounding you into the mattress. Your third orgasm of the night begins with his cock fully seated inside of you. He fucks you through it, chasing his own high as he listens to the dirtiest sounds fall from your parted lips. “Fuck, I’m cumming.” He says the words only half a second before he starts filling you up, fucking his cum in as deep as he possibly can.

A couple of minutes later, Bucky is still laying on top of you, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder and neck as you enjoy the warmth and closeness he offers.

“That was number three.” He whispers, letting his lips ghost over your skin.

“Thank you, Santa.”

TAG LIST:

@mrsjoequinn @nixxaswrld @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @fandomsfeminismandme @missadored @buchi91 @phoenixstark1708 @mayamacall @wickedwitch-99 @sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @thealloveru2 @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @wishingforwonderland @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze

[sagechanoafterdark]

Shoot Your Shot, Cupid

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader Word Count: 3,770 Warnings: mature language, unbeata'd, soft Bucky, lets assume Sam set him up for this one, female coded reader, happy ending because we all deserve it, TIME SKIIIIIP, best friend with good intentions that shows up for one job and then disappears, speed dating, one obnoxious man, all the soft feelings.

Hello Kittens, and Happy Valentine's Day. It's been a while since I wrote... well anything and I was working on this for a couple of months but I think it's come all together now. Hope you enjoy it!

This couldn’t get much worse.

Tricked by your best friend.

Nay, betrayed.  

By someone you implicitly trusted.

There would be no forgiving this.

Never, not ever.

The dinner and drinks invitation a few days before the start of February was met with trepidation on your part. All Christmas season you’d feigned interest as Mellony, your best friend, thrust every single co-worker, neighbor, and wait staff at you to find you someone to share the holiday with.

You couldn’t blame her. After all, Mellony was blissfully happy with her fiancée and only wanted the same for you.

All that you could forgive.

But this?

This was a complete and utter betrayal.

A deep and unimpressed frown marred your face as Mellony took the sticky name tag off the table with her perfectly manicured nails. Peeling the back with an ear-to-ear grin and pressed it against your chest. “There,” she exclaimed with joy, lacing her fingers together. “Now you’re all set.”

Looking down at the beautifully scrawled letters framed by little hearts you couldn’t help but curl your lip and whine, “Mel, you promised.”

The blond snorted and rolled her enormous puppy dog eyes, “I never promised anything.” Looping her arm through yours she practically began to drag you through the convention center doors and past the sign that sealed your fate.

Cupids Bow Speed Dating Event.

“Yes, you did,” you reaffirmed. Glancing around the room packed full of men and women in a combination of sweaters, suits, and cocktail dresses. “You promised not to try and set me up with anyone again.”

“This is my speed dating event. It doesn’t count.”

“I can assure you it does.”

“Nooooo,” she practically sang, turning around on her heel with that adorable mischievous smile of hers. “I promised that I wouldn’t set you up with anyone I knew. Everyone here was vetted by my team. I don't know any of these people.”

Grumbling she began tugging you towards the stage as intro music began to play softly from the DJ booth. Mellony paused, gripping your hand tight and looking down at you as the DJ introduced her, “Please, stay? I just want you to find someone.”

“Mel,” you hissed with disapproval. “I don’t need to find someone.”

Whether or not she heard you was unclear as the music swelled and Mellony put on her famous razzle dazzle smile and waved at everyone as she took the microphone and the presentation began. Your eyes swung to the crowd of people, more than three dozen people silhouetted against the stage lights and it made you shiver.

This was going to be a disaster.

Twenty minutes later your mind was glazed over with the audacity of men.

With every new ding of the bell, you found yourself becoming more annoyed. The match-making event progressed easily. People were divided into groups based on results from a questionnaire, something you distinctly remember Mel presenting to you as a fun Cosmo quiz, while one group remained seated the others rotated around the room.

By some stroke of luck, you were one of the people destined to sit. But that also meant that total strangers would be coming to your table to chat with you.

In all your years of singledom,  you’d thought you’d heard it all. Too fat. Too loud. Too smart. Too opinionated. Those were old hat by now, and you weren’t immune to the bitter words from unimportant people.

“I suppose you’re an attractive woman,” the suit across from you said thoughtfully. His eyes never met yours, instead looking around the room likely for the next victim of his charm. “But I’m not really into your hair color. How would you feel about dying it?”

The question hung in the air as you waited for the man to look back at you. When his beady eyes returned to your face you couldn’t hide the disbelief, waving your hand in the air with an icy finality, “Absolutely not. You can go.”

He didn’t wait. Standing so quickly the chair scraped against the floor as he haughtily walked towards the bar. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you pulled out your phone and began to scroll social media waiting for the next bell in fifteen minutes.

Not the wildest thing you’d ever heard, but the gall of some people astounded even you sometimes. This also wasn’t the first event you’d been to that Mel had put on, you’d come to one or two as she’d begun her match-making service so you knew the ins and outs pretty well. But getting the same questions over and over was getting old fast.

What do you do for a living?

Where are you from?

What’s your family like?

What’s your perfect date idea?

BOR-ING!

Just once you’d like someone to ask you a real question, something thoughtful instead of the surface questions you’d find on social media.

You couldn’t believe you wore your favorite dress for this nonsense.

The bell dinged once again and the shadow of a new man sat in front of you.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” you said not looking up from the device in your hand.

“Come here often?”

“To a dating event? No,” the words were flowing out of your mouth easily. Canned responses for canned questions.

There was a heavy pause, “You seem bored.”

“That’s because I am.”

A muted scoff came from the other side of the table, “What would make it more interesting then?”

A long sigh escaped you as you continued scrolling on your phone, “If someone would ask me a question of substance, maybe I would give them a chance for conversation.”

Again a long stretching silence from the other side and you had to resist rolling your eyes.

“Alright,” he rumbled, leaning back against his chair. “Then what’s one gift you always wish you’d gotten, but never did?”

That had your thumb pausing on the endless scrolling you were doing. Finally, your gaze flicked up and your brain stopped working for a brief moment as you took in the disgustingly attractive man sitting your opposite.

Coffee color hair, and a chiseled jaw dotted with a five o’clock shadow would be enough to make even the most choosy of a woman’s breath catch. He was wearing a bulky leather jacket in a building that was pushing 80 degrees, which was odd but not overly strange.

But oddly enough you felt yourself getting drawn in. Not by his cheekbones, the cut of his jaw, the dimple in his chin, or even the semi-scowl he wore.

No, it was his eyes. Bright blue soulful eyes, that sparkled a little as he sat across the table from you. Eyes that told a story all their own and drew you out of your scrolling for the first time that night.

Pursing your lips slightly you thought, “Hmm, I’d have to say it’s a puppy.”

His eyebrow arched slightly, clearly surprised by your answer, “A puppy?”

“Sure,” you said with a slight shrug. “A puppy is something I’ve always wanted but never gotten as a gift from anyone other than myself.”

“What kind of puppy?”

“Oh I don’t have a preferred breed,” you informed, tilting your head a little at the odd conversation. “But as a child, it was what I asked for every year as a present. But I never got one.”

His lips turned up in a half smile and you thought you were going to melt in your seat, “Asking for one every year and not getting one, sounds a little disappointing. Was that just a Christmas thing?”

“Nah,” you laughed a little, fingers picking at a little piece of lint on the edge of your dress. “Christmas, birthdays, Easter didn’t matter. If gifts were being given, it was at the top of my list. Every year I’d be running to the tree and picking up presents, looking for one big enough. It’s a running joke with my friends that I’d marry the first man to give me a puppy for Christmas.”

A brisk laugh escaped him, his lips pulled into a charming smile that had nervous butterflies leap up in your chest. “A puppy for Christmas,” he rumbled thoughtfully. “I’ll have to remember that.”

The response made goosebumps prickle along your skin and you held back a shiver, wetting your suddenly dry lips, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s a gift you always wanted but didn’t get,” you paused briefly a coy smile stretching your lips.

His smile turned into a smirk as he once again leaned back in his chair, blue eyes darting back and forth over your face as he thought about it. It was going well, your impish smile growing along with his own. That is until his smile began to fall, bright blue gaze darting a little more frantically over your face before he licked his lips and an unexpected tremor sounded in his voice, “I think, I think it was a sled.”

“A sled,” you asked, leaning forward a little in intrigue. “Like a big plastic one with the handles? Oh no, I got it you’re definitely an inflatable snow tube kind of guy.”

A balk of laughter sounded from him, making hidden laugh lines appear at the corner of his eyes as they brightened with your playful banter. “Nah,” he exclaimed, waving a hand. “More like a wood and metal one. It had bright red skis and a wooden seat top. That sled was all I wanted as a kid.”

An amused giggle slipped from you, “I had a wagon kind of like that as a kid, it was a radio flyer.”

His fingers snapped as he pointed at you with a little bit of excitement, “That’s it! A Radio Flyer sled, with a rope handle and foot steering bar. Though I don’t think I’d ever get one now. I’m a little too old to go sledding down a hill.”

“Age is all about perspective.”

He snorted, “Tell that to my driver's license.”

Genuine laughter bubbled up from inside of you as you leaned forward in your seat, a teasing retort on your lips. Before you could speak, Mellony rang her little handbell and people began to switch places again. But your blue-eyed stranger lingered at your table.

“Talk to you again?”

He sounded, hopeful. “Yeah,” you croaked out pathetically. “Talk to you again.”

You watched as he stood from your table and made his way across the room to his next table while another man took his place at your own. A feeling of disappointment swelled as you lost sight of him in the crowd of people, the feeling intensifying as this new man briefly introduced themselves before launching into a long Tinder-level introduction.

Two more men sat at your table, barely holding your interest outside of normal pleasantries before Mel rang her handbell in rapid succession. “Alright everyone that’s the first round,” she called from her place at the podium. “We’re going to break for thirty minutes. There are hors d'oeuvres and refreshments at the bar. Please feel free to mingle!”

The room of people began to stand and mill around as an uproar of chatter began. Your eyes picked out a couple of men from your group, pairing up with others and heading to the bar. Cordial smiles turned into pleasant touches and sweetheart eyes as they went.

The Cupids Bow Dating Event was a success and you couldn’t help but feel the swell of pride for your friend.

“Hey, Sourpuss,” Melody greeted, looping her arm through yours. “You having fun yet?”

Your mind drifted back to your blue-eyed stranger, “A little.”

“Well, I don’t know if you know this. But the point of speed dating is to, you know, find a date. I was watching you, and you gotta talk to more than one person,” she sassed.

Your mouth turned down to a frown for a brief moment, “I talked to someone.”

“Oh yeah? What was his name.”

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times as you realized quickly you’d never even got Mr. Blue-Eyes name, “Shit.”

“What?”

“I didn’t even get Mr. Blue-Eyes name!”

“It’s Bucky.”

Turning around there stood Mr. Blue-Eyes himself, err… you meant Bucky. There was no doubt your embarrassment showed on your face, but the little nervous laugh that slipped out sealed the deal.

Bucky smiled at you, “That is if it’s me you were talking about?”

Wetting your lips you shifted, suddenly nervous before meeting friendly blue eyes, “Yeah,” you squeaked before clearing your throat. “I mean, yes. I’m sorry I missed your name when we talked.”

He was nodding for a brief moment, his eyes darting over towards the bar before taking a few steps closer to you and leaning down. “There’s a restaurant down the street. They’ve got pretty good sushi. You want to get the hell out of here?”

“Oh, my god yes!” The tips of your ears felt hot as you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole but Bucky didn’t seem to notice your embarrassment. Instead, he offered up his right arm and you looped yours into it without hesitation.

Melody’s brow shot up out of surprise, “B-but that was only the first round! There are still two more.”

“I don’t think we need a round two,” Bucky said, the same charming smile pulling at the corner of his mouth and making his eyes crinkle.

“Yeah,” you laughed, in a teasing tone. “This round just might go to Cupid after all.”

Three years later.

Lights twinkled in the living room of your apartment, it was god awful early and you’d carefully planned today. Christmas day and you’d been waiting for this moment for two years now. Quickly and quietly you snuck out of the bedroom where Bucky lay wrapped up in the blankets and made your way to the front closet.

It was hard being sneaky when your boyfriend was a super spy. But after a lot of careful planning, misdirections, and a lot of help from Sam, you’d managed to do it and Bucky was none the wiser.

Tiptoeing towards the hall closet that Bucky never used you opened the squeaky hinged door in just the way so it made no noise. Reaching blindly into the black of the closet you felt around, past the dozen unused coats, jackets, scarves, and hats your hand met the back of the closet wall. Sliding quietly until your fingers brushed the cold metal you were looking for.

Jackpot.

Fingers wrapped around your prize as you gave a firm but gentle tug. A pristine, adult-sized, bright red and creamy wood seat Flex Flyer sled emerged complete with an enormous red bow.

Stifling a giggle you set it down.

“What are you doing?”

A shriek tore out of your throat as you jumped what felt like twenty feet in the air.

“James Barnes,” you scolded, heart beating a million miles an hour. “What have I said about sneaking up on me?”

“You were being sneaky first,” he said, brows drawn together as he tried to look around you. “What you hiding doll face?”

“Nothing!” You lied, spreading your arms and legs to hide your surprise gift.

It was at that moment you heard the vibration from Bucky’s phone clutched in his hand, the man tried to not look sheepish as he not so covertly pressed the silence button.

Suspicion immediately filled you, “Bucky? What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” He shot back, his brow knits in suspicion.

It was a standoff.

The two of you staring each other down in the dark of the hallway in your matching Christmas pajamas. Someone knocking on the front door startled you both before Bucky cursed under his breath, pointing at you, “Don’t follow me.”

His instruction surprised you as he brushed past you in the small hallway. You scoffed under your breath, “You’re in your PJ’s Buck, how far are you going?”

Bucky paused before going around the corner, “I mean it.” There was another soft but hurried knock and he cursed before disappearing.

A tisk of disapproval escaped you, but urgency filled your movements the second he was out of sight. Hands shaking slightly you hurried, pulling the sled out from the closet with as much silence as you could muster before dashing the Christmas tree. Stuffing the sled behind the tree, a few bulbs swinging back and forth as you fumbled to fluff the crumpled bow on Bucky’s surprise.

A cacophony of hushed grumbles and whispers came from the front door, you could have sworn you heard Sam as the door closed with a thunk and the lock turned. In a matter of seconds Bucky was coming around the corner again, an enormous gold box gripped in his hands affixed with a brilliant glittering green bow.

It was clear that Bucky didn’t see you immediately as he juggled the wobbly box and tried to remain quiet as he did so.

“Whatcha, got there?”

Bucky startled, socked feet skidding to a halt just at the corner of the couch as the box wobbled in his hands again. Frustrated and accusatory blue eyes narrowed, “What are you doing in here?” He asked in a hushed whisper.

“What are you doing in here?”

“You better not be shaking presents.”

“Please,” you scoffed. “I’ll have you know I haven’t shaken a present since I was ten. What’s in the box, Jamie?”

Bucky flinched a little, his one weakness was when you called him Jamie. His shoulders sagged a little as his grip on the box tightened, “This was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Oh I’m surprised,” you said with a laugh. The mantle clock began to ding for the early morning hour. Five AM came so early now. “Do you want to open our gifts now?”

Bucky pursed his lips, body jerking as the box tried to throw itself from his hands. “I think now is best.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the prospect of what the box could contain. But your eyes flitted over to the space behind the tree where you’d stuffed Bucky’s surprise and the anxious feeling grew tenfold as you thought about the question you were going to ask him once he’d seen it.

Clearing his throat Bucky nodded towards the Christmas tree and the traditional present opening space. Dutifully you sat down in the chair, eyes darting over behind the tree to where your gift sat. “Um, mine's not wrapped.”

“That’s alright,” he said, setting the box at your feet as it rattled all on its own now that it was on the floor. “Where is mine and we’ll do them on the count of three.”

“Alright,” you agreed, fingers tapping the edges of your box. “Yours is behind the tree.”

You saw his eyes dart over to the tree and then back down to you, “On three.”

“Alright,” you agreed, fingers poised to rip at the bow on top of the gift. “One.”

“Two,” Bucky echoed, taking a step closer to the tree.

“Three!”

Your fingers began tearing at the bow on top of the gift box as it rattled against the floor. Pushing back the loose gold paper and terrible tape job before, POP!

Two of the most adorable brown eyes you’d ever seen stared up at you. You were stunned for a moment, staring down at the cutest little paws and wet nose you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“OHMYGODAPUPPY!!”

The shrieking sob spilled past your lips as you pulled the squirming pup into your arms, its tiny tongue licking and sniffing all over your face and mouth. Tears spilled from your eyes as the little bundle in your arms wiggled, squirmed, and kissed your face everywhere; its bottom wiggling so much they tumbled out of your arms and into your lap.

“Oh my god,” you blubbered, holding the precious little one to you. “Bucky! He’s so cute. Oh, it’s a she. She’s so cute, James. Oh god! Oh my god, I love her so much. I can't—I can’t believe this! This is real right? Do I get to keep her? Bucky?”

Looking up Bucky was angled away from you, the lights of the Christmas tree gleaming off of his arm as he held onto his new sled. His fingers found the tag as he stared at it in the dim lighting. 

He sniffled briefly before he began to read, “Roses are red, violets are blue, do me the—the honor—the honor of spending my life with you?”

Teary blue eyes turned towards you as you held the squirming puppy in your arms. “Doll,” he squeaked out with a sniffle as a few tears began to slip. “You…”

Looking up at him from your seat you reached into the side table drawer pulled out a distinctive black ring box and opened it. Inside, a single simple gold band that had Bucky’s breath catching.

“Will you,” you croaked out, clearing your throat a little more and juggling your new bundle of joy in your arms. “Will you marry me, James Buchanan Barns?”

A laugh escaped Bucky as he lowered the sled to the floor, and then himself. Bucky knelt before you, down on one knee, and reached forward towards the little puppy squirming in your arms. His fingers brushed against a tiny piece of string attached to the bow, you’d missed it but he lifted the dangling object for your inspection. A beautiful golden ring with what had to be the most enormous diamond you’d ever seen.

Your shocked watery gaze met Bucky’s impossibly blue eyes, “Only if you say yes too.”

The puppy leaped down from your lap, content to explore their new apartment as you slid down and onto Bucky’s lap. Arms wrapping around his shoulders and kissing him harder than you ever had before. Warmth blossomed in your chest as Bucky’s lips parted briefly with a light moan, kissing one another with dizzying urgency.

Gasping for air the two of you parted briefly, planting pecking kisses against one another lips.

“Is that a yes,” he husked, his hands sliding up and down your back.

“Yes, it’s a yes, Jamie.”

Grinning up at you, Bucky cradled you against him, “I didn’t know if you’d say yes.”

 “Of course I’d say yes,” you whispered, holding onto him tightly. “After all,  you did get me that puppy I’ve always wanted.”

A laugh escaped Bucky as he held you tightly and buried his face against your chest, his shoulders shaking in what could only be a relief, “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Blue-Eyes.”

END

[buckybringsviolets]

I've Got You

Bucky x Female Reader

500+ words

For anon, if this is not what you were asking for, please don't hesitate to ask for a redo!

Request ~ hello! ive never used this button on this app before so forgive me if its a bit confusing! - i saw that you were doing letters from bucky? and i was wondering if i could ask for one? " my preferred pronouns are she/her and if its at all possible can you do CW bucky? as for specifics: can it be comfort and reassurance for issues with anxiety? thanks so much !! have a great day

This takes place when Bucky was hiding out in Romania, right before the action in Captain America: Civil War

   Doll,

   I’m just running out to grab a few things. When you get this, before you do anything else, PLEASE make sure to latch the locks that I couldn’t. I checked the windows before leaving so you’re all set there. Make sure the volume on the radio is down, I know you love to jack it up, but darlin’, please don’t! And remember, I love you, and don’t be scared. 

      I’m so fucking sorry I dragged you into the mess that is my life, I hate you have to live like this, I do. I should have turned away the minute I laid eyes on you. Jesus, sweetheart, you were so beautiful, standing there, trying your hardest to communicate with the merchant, but struggling. I couldn’t help but smile at you. And you graciously let me help you, quickly inviting me to join you for a coffee. 

  I knew it wasn’t a good idea but I let you in. I told you things I know I shouldn’t have. But how couldn’t I? We are as much alike as we are different, but we fit. Like we were meant to be. And my love for you outweighs my guilt. Unfortunately for you I’m afraid. 

  But now? Now you are suffering. Holed up in this dingy apartment, scrounging for mere scraps to survive. Yet you tell me you’re “fine with it” that “it’s true, love conquers all, Bucky!” And you smile at me, that breathtakingly beautiful smile of yours, hugging me so tightly I feel like I’m back together again. Whole. 

  But I know you have so much on your mind. I mean, who wouldn’t? This kind of life ain’t for the faint of heart, always looking for threats, leaving your old life behind. “It’s okay, Buck!” You tell me. “I was just traipsing around the world, no rhyme or reason to where I was going. And I’ve got no place to go back to, you’re my home now, Buck, and I plan on helping you find your home, wherever that may be.”  But what about you darlin’? 

   I want to take you somewhere nice, warm maybe. Some place that no one can find us, find me. I want to take you somewhere where you won’t have to wake up with anxiety, fears. I know you try to hide it all from me, but I know. I watch you, I see it when you turn from me and that gorgeous smile disappears. I notice the slight tremors in your hands when you're doing some mindless chore, your eyes darting around. I hear your sniffles in the bathroom. But you always deny it when I confront you with it, “I’m fine Bucky, honest!” 

  When I get home tonight I’m going to treat you to something special, promise. I’m not tellin’ you what, but I will say it will involve lots of blankets and cuddles. And I want you to know that I will do anything to make you feel safe, to make that anxiety you’re feeling go as far away as I can fucking toss it. It’s gonna be okay, it’s going to. Because, sweetheart, I believe we can overcome anything. Together. 

Love you with every fiber of my messed up self

Bucky

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Not Allowed

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Receptionist!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: bad date angst, jealous bucky

Summary: You and Bucky always flirt with each other while at work but it never goes anywhere like you'd hope. You accept a date with another man, causing Bucky to be jealous. He's a cop who is jealous. Nothing will go wrong, right?

Squares Filled: kink: pet names (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You walk through the double doors with a smile on your face because today is another day. You’re alive and that’s the best kind of day. You work for the local police department as their receptionist. You’re the first thing people see when they come in so you have to be on your best behavior.

You set your things down on your desk and quickly get settled in. Besides the Captain, you’re the first one in the building. Every officer that comes in, you greet them with a smile as you log into your computer.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Officer Wilson says when he comes in. He always calls you that since he's often told you how he thinks of you like a little sister. “How was your weekend?”

“Too short,” you chuckle. “Did Sarah get into that college?”

“Yeah, she got the acceptance letter yesterday.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for her!” you grin.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her to give you a call.”

Sam taps your desk twice and leaves to go to his own. A few more officers come in until the one you’ve been waiting for walks in confidently. Your heart starts to race because you have a huge crush on him. He kind of knows it but doesn't outright call you out on it.

“There she is,” Bucky smiles and leans on your desk.

“Officer Barnes, it’s good to see you.”

“Doll, you know you can call me Bucky.”

He knows exactly what those pet names do to you. After a night of drinking together, you let it slip that your kink is pet names, and doll happened to be your favorite. Like him, you won’t call him out on it.

“I know. How was your weekend?”

“Better if you were there with me,” he flirts.

“Oh, Bucky,” you chuckle nervously. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do. I was wishing, ‘Man, don’t I wish Y/N was here with me? I guess I have to drink alone’.”

“You know what alcohol does to me.”

“Yeah, I do,” he smirks. “You look cute today. That dress compliments you.”

“A compliment. I might swoon,” you joke even though your cheeks are hot.

“As long as it’s in my arms, I don’t care.”

“Don’t you have a job to get to, Officer Barnes?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather stay here and talk to you.”

“You might get fired.”

“It’s worth it,” he winks. “Here’s your coffee.”

He sets your favorite coffee order next to your keyboard and walks away. That’s the extent of your relationship with Bucky. You two flirt constantly but nothing ever comes of it. It’s comfortable. Why leave something when you’re comfortable being there? Do you wish you were something more? Of course. Do you think he’s going to man up and take it to that next level? Not unless something threatening happened like him realizing if he doesn’t do it soon, he’d lose you.

Some of what your work includes is printing off documents for the other officers, inputting things into evidence before they get shipped off there, and sorting through the files regarding the people they have locked up in the holding cells or interrogation rooms. You already have a list of things to print out and file, but you look for Bucky’s name first.

After printing off what he needs, you get up and personally hand this to him. There is a mailbox for the officers that you’re supposed to put in, but you like visiting his desk. He has a picture of you and him printed out and placed next to his computer that you look at every time you visit.

“Here are the papers you asked for,” you smile.

“Thanks, doll,” he grins and grabs them from you, intentionally brushing his fingers against yours.

You go back to your desk to finish your work, and you come across two people who need stuff put into evidence. One of them sent it over a couple of hours ago, and the other one is from Bucky. You immediately click on his name to get what he needs first before looking at the other one.

“Now that is bullshit,” you hear from behind you.

You jump and turn to see Sam standing there with a half-smile on his face.

“What are you doing? You scared me!”

“I sent you evidence hours ago and Bucky sent you it just now, and he’s the one you pick first?”

“I--”

You don’t have any words for that.

“When are you two gonna fuck?”

“Sam Wilson!” you gasp.

“What? It’s a valid question. I should ask him that.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“I’m rooting for you two no matter how painful the slow burn is,” he chuckles and walks away.

It takes half an hour to get the idea of you and Bucky fucking for you to do your job right. Once you’re in the groove of things, the door opens and an attractive man walks in.

“Can I help you?” you ask with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m here for my brother. He’s in lock up.”

“Okay, what’s his name and date of birth?”

“James Farley. 04/05/1986.”

“Your name?”

“Brandon Farley.”

“Okay, I see your brother here. It looks like--”

“I’m sorry, but I have to tell you how beautiful you are.”

“Oh, thank you,” you blush.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, but--”

“Great. Can I take you out?”

“You can see how this is inappropriate, right?”

“Yeah, but you like it,” he grins. “So, can I take you out?”

There’s a certain charm about him that you find endearing maybe because he reminds you of Bucky. Being put on the spot like that is enough to make you freeze up, so you say the one thing that won’t cause conflict.

“Yes.”

“Here’s my number.”

He grabs your hand and writes his number on it so that it won’t come off with one scrub.

“I have sticky notes!”

“This is better. Now you won’t lose it.”

“Go take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly to bring you to your brother.”

“Thanks,” he winks and walks to the waiting room.

You’re about to get up and wash off the number when you notice Bucky standing in the doorway that leads into the precinct.

“Did I hear that right?”

“What?”

“You have a date?”

“Yeah, he asked me out,” you stutter. Bucky looks pissed as if you just told him you killed someone. “Why do you look angry?”

“Nothing. No reason.”

Bucky walks off angrily leaving you confused. He avoids you like the plague for the rest of the day. He isn’t at his desk when you drop off paperwork, and he’s not there to walk you to your car when you get off. He’s supposed to get off an hour before you do, but he stays after not on the clock to make sure you get to your car safely.

This time, he didn’t.

The next day, Bucky is already at work when you arrive. There is no coffee on your desk, either, and you’re feeling guilty for accepting a date with someone else. Is that why he’s acting this way? Sam walks in drinking an energy drink when you stop him.

“Hey, what’s going on with Bucky?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, what did I do?”

“You accepted a date from someone else.”

You knew it. Why is he bigging out?

“So?”

“Have you not been here for the past two years? You two flirt like crazy.”

“No, he’s just being friendly.”

“You won’t get it until you do,” Sam shakes his head and walks off.

The date with Brandon comes sooner than you hoped. He picks you up in a fancy car and takes you to a fancy restaurant that you could never afford. He smooth-talks the hostess to get him a table by the window so he can have a view while he eats. The waitress brings by a drinks menu but he already orders what you two are going to drink.

“Trust me, you’re going to love this,” he winks at you.

“Okay,” you say and fiddle with your fingers underneath the table. “You know what I do for work. What do you do for work?”

You shouldn’t have asked him that.

“I work in the telecommunications sector. You know that big building in the city? That’s mine. It’s funny. I got all my parents’ money when they died and instead of using that money for myself, I decided to invest in a small company that turned out to give me millions.” You open your mouth to speak but he continues talking. “Can you imagine that? This small company that wasn’t going to go anywhere if it weren't for me. I’m like their hero. They eventually sold their part to me, and I’ve been thriving ever since.”

Once he got to talking about his job, he hasn’t shut up about it since. He’s very arrogant and rude but that doesn’t seem to stop him. As soon as the drinks come, you greedily take yours and down it without caring what it is.

“Whoa, doll, calm down. I don’t need to haul you to the car at the end of the night. You should pace yourself.”

No one can call me that but Bucky. Oh, Bucky. You shouldn’t have said yes to this man. He only asked you out to hear himself talk. You want this date to end so you pretend to be interested in what he has to say. Even when the date is over and he’s driving you home, he won’t shut up. His voice mixed with alcohol is starting to make your head throb.

About halfway to your house, you see red and blue lights behind you.

This better not be him, you think to yourself. Brandon pulls the car over obediently and waits for the officer to approach him. You look through the mirror to see the outline of the officer and recognize it immediately. He better not. I swear to God… Instead of walking to the driver’s side door, Bucky walks over to your door and leans down so only you can see him.

“Step out of the vehicle, please.”

“No.”

Bucky takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He leans in so close that you can smell his delicious cologne. That makes your head spin.

“I’ll repeat myself. Step out of the car.”

“Or what? You’re gonna drag me out?”

“Don’t tempt me, doll,” he says so only you can hear it.

“Is there a problem, Officer?” Brandon asks.

“Yes. You have a busted taillight.”

“Fuck! You’ve got to be joking, sir.”

“No, sir, I’m not.”

“Shit. Officer, I can promise you I keep this car in the utmost pristine condition.”

“Not today, buddy. That’s a ticket.”

Bucky takes out his pad and writes Brandon a hefty ticket for a broken taillight you’re not sure is even broken.

“Fuck!” Brandon turns to you without guilt on his face. “Look, do you mind if I drop you off right here? Your house is only down the road. You can get there from here, right?”

Your mouth drops open in shock.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take her home,” Bucky offers.

“Thank you. I’ll call you.”

You don’t say anything as you get out of the car. Bucky walks you to the passenger side of his cruiser. You look at the taillights of Brandon’s car and notice they’re both working properly.

“What the fuck, Bucky?” you yell when he gets in the driver’s seat. “His taillights are broken! You can’t just do that. That’s illegal!”

“He’ll fight against it, and I’ll drop the charges,” he shrugs.

“You’re un-fucking-believable. We were actually having a good time,” you lie.

“No, you weren't,” he laughs.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s written all over your face. Your eyes don’t have the usual light.” Bucky pulls onto the road and heads in the direction of your house. “I don’t know why you would accept the date in the first place.”

“Because at least he had the fucking balls to ask me.”

That puts the entire car ride into a tense silence. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the ride home. He pulls up to your place but instead of letting you get out first, he gets out and walks over to your side of the car. He opens the door but doesn't let you leave the car. He leans into the car, grabs your chin, and kisses you. You’re shocked but you won’t pull away from him. Both your lips move in harmony against one another, and he slides his tongue into your mouth to show you he means business.

“You’re not allowed to see other men.”

“Why not?” you ask, breathlessly.

“Because you’re mine now and I’m not gonna let you go.” This brings a smile to your face. He lets you get out, and when you pass by him, he taps your ass lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Doll.”

Yes, you will.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[samodivaa]

┊Impure Thoughts┊

《Part 2┊ Reader x Bucky Barnes?

Bucky is getting more comfortable with going out without the prosthetic. You are getting a little too comfortable with the idea of using it...as a pleasure tool.

Warnings - smut, metal dildo lmao?, mastrubation (f), fingering Words - 1700 ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ In the living room, you are settled on the couch with your book, but you pause halfway through reading a sentence when it finally sinks in. You have unconsciously placed yourself directly across the room from the armchair, and something seems to be filling your entire field of vision—Bucky’s metal arm—pitifully, the first coherent thought that emerges, is undoubtedly something that you have been thinking about these past weeks—you grind your teeth and chew your tongue. That is followed closely by the realization that this is probably an instinctual reaction born out of being alone for too long. Right? The thought has you swallowing hard while you feet the beginnings of arousal, you shift uncomfortably, crossing your ankles—the beginning of the end. Here it is again: that feeling of complete addiction, of an irrational kink, need. A craving, a thirst, blood rushing to your ears to chant in your mind once again: God, I want to try it.

Your eyes flicker between the book and the prosthetic. A ripple of gooseflesh erupts down your whole body and you squeeze your eyes shut in mortification, you even change positions and straighten your back, leading to several cracks up your spine. Why did he need to leave his prosthetic arm on the armchair?

You feel your jaw slacken. The inevitable desire floods your brain too quickly, irritation prickling at your chest. “He is not coming home tonight…” you note mentally with a magnanimous twinkle of your eyes. Two identical streaks of pink appear on your cheek and you avert your gaze, shaking your head. You have imagined what it might be like to use it as a pleasure tool countless times, but you have never considered that you would actually be bold enough to do it. But even as that transient thought flits through your brain, the image of your legs spread while fucking yourself on it…the fantasy swirls hazy— This is so wrong, but you are so exhilarated by it—but it’s akin to torture. You rub your eyes and try to focus on the letters and shapes, but it is difficult.

"Right," you mumble to yourself, trailing your fingertip under the sentence to steady your gaze "The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment…”

Fuck…

You have already read that sentence twice.

You attempt a denial, tongue stuck to your teeth “Some things are beyond help” you confess, smothering a yawn into your sleeve. You sigh impatiently, but get up from the couch nonetheless. As you head to the bedroom, you stupidly lean your body in the door frame, attempting to dispel the notion that you are so turned on just thinking about it. You let out a stealthy, thin smile, but you instinctually clasp a hand over your mouth. You stare intently into the prosthetic. Head clouding. Heart taking off again. It is not that you don’t want to do it now—it is more like you don’t want your little bubble to pop just yet, the bubble of your innocence. You have finally just given up on the feeble attempt to get your body and mind to settle down to sleep. Your phone, which you have ignored for some time by then, buzzes with a new text. The phone on the coffee table buzzes yet again, but you don’t even acknowledge it.

You make your breaths as quiet as possible, managing to walk over to the armchair without making the faintest noise. A growling soft leaves your throat, followed by an annoyed moan—mentally swooning at the idea you will actually do it this time. Instantly, you feel your blood run cold, and your face immediately falls. Embarrassment, that is all, just sheer and utter embarrassment as you find yourself caught in the act.

Quickly, you let out a nervous laugh, amused by your own antics.

“It's okay, no one will ever find out” you are quick to try to convince yourself, to urge yourself to take the opportunity. You lost in the end. You get on your knees in front of the armchair, leaning down to get in eye level with it before your hand reaches out and finds the metal fingers, using the pad of your thumb to brush against vibranium there. You lace the cold fingers with yours, they move so easily. …you didn’t know that. You are far too entranced by the arm, that you have forgotten about the appendage pressed in between your thighs, until you shift a bit. Instantly, you feel that spot between your legs head up even more and that reminds you of the throbbing sensation you have been ignoring. You apply pressure with your free hand, prying a sharp exhale from your own lips, finding relief on the soft carpeted floor, and spreading your legs—but still the wetness between your legs is growing, and it is unbearable. You whimper as your fingers press into the clit. You start to rub circles into it as you soak the fabric. But you need more, it’s not enough. That's why you reach down and grab the fabric of your panties in between shaky fingers and gently pull it to the side, rapturously rubbing without the fabric in the way. No, this is not enough. Hands are shaking with desperation.

One by one, you place your fingers in your mouth and lick them before running them up and down your slit, finding yourself instinctually moving quicker. You slid one finger inside, shivering a little at the feeling. It is quickly followed by a second, then a third. You jolt in pleasure when your fingers nudge up against the spot. With newfound vigour, you finger yourself even harder. Your body fizzes with a heady sensuality, where you are constantly in the process of getting aroused, bringing yourself closer to an euphoric climax, but you don’t really want to orgasm like that.

You have such an unambiguously bad feeling—awful, really—but you couldn't look away, couldn't stop. But the nearness, the possibility of this fantasy becoming reality, it has dwelled in you for too long. Every embarrassment is forgotten. It has seized hold of your heart: desire is terrible. Your insides clench longingly at need to be filled, practically singing at the thought of something being buried within you. Your hand moves alternately in a frantic blur, then achingly slow, edging closer and closer, fingers are buried deep inside you while the thumb rubs your clit and lips, with you being so wet that you can hear your fingers' movement, but—No, no, no, this is not enough—the fingers are still inside you, moving in a now broken rhythm before stopping completely. You are so tight around your own fingers, how will you feel around the metal ones? You have fantasised about this more than once.

You have touched yourself to that fantasy more than once. “Jesus…I might actually do it” It is unusual to be so nervous, but the words that come out of your sweet lips cut off any rational thoughts you have. Then the inevitable—your pussy throbs at the idea. A reflex, a response, a curse. 

It is actually rather exciting that no-one will see you. You take a deep shuddering breath, eyes are stormy with a ravenous hunger. There are resolved cracks as your desires win this time. You latch onto the index metal finger hungrily and suck it like it's the sweetest treat, staying still for just a second before moving up and down, tongue swirling around the cold digit. Then, wrapping your tongue around a second finger and tasting the slightly metal tangy taste of the vibranium. You bend the fingers of your other hand in that come-hither motion again and again until your cunt is squirting out onto the hand in a stream of clear wetness.

Shit.

Suddenly, you get up and snatch the prosthetic from the armchair, heading to the bedroom.

Your lip quivers as you drink the sight of the arm onto the mattress, all the while loosening your panties and Bucky’s t-shirt you love to wear, but not now—whining through the back of your throat and then heaved breaths through your nose—What, what are you doing? Your mind whirres; you can hear your own heartbeat, your palms are clammy. You take the lube before laying on the bed, squeezing some onto your fingers and applying some to and inside of yourself before you start fingering yourself, spreading yourself open and sliding your fingers inside once again. Breathy little noises, helplessly turned on, you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, teeth sinking into it as you turn your gaze to the metal prosthetic. “Okay…” you murmur quietly, shifting a little so you can grab the arm with both hands and finally align it with your entrance. You are beyond ready.

“H-holy shit…” you pant as the cold surface of the fingers lightly touches the sensitive skin of your stretched hole, and you moan shamelessly, squeezing your eyes shut and arching into the feeling as your skin erupts in goosebumps, unwilling to acknowledge the frissons of pleasure washing over you with each flick of the metal. Anger boils in your stomach as well as a fair bit of shame, because you are not sure if it will fit—it's way too big. You want to come on the metal, want to feel the coldness, but your face contorts in both pain as much as pleasure as you try to push it inside more. You make a strange whining sound, desperate to come, desperate to fit it beyond the knuckles—you gasp out when you begin to move it, thrusting in and out in a slow, grinding motion. You finally look down when you finally fit in more of it—your mouth hangs open and your limbs feel like they are frozen. You have made a terrible decision, you know you have when you see blue eyes illuminated with curiosity, horror…? 

“H-hey” you speak airly, shivering and groaning faintly as his coveting blue eyes meet yours.

Oh yes, you didn't check your phone.

⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ might write a part two, i personally need more metal arm stuff fr :0

《Part 2

[royalsweetteaa]

Title: Thinking about us all

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - The following story contains: Explicit smut, MMF threesome, petnames (doll, sweetheart), dom/sub/switch roles, establishing polyamory, stucky, bisexual!Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes, oral sex (M/F receiving), cum eating, anal sex, rimjob (M receiving), unprotected sex, P in V/P in A sex, creampie, spitroast, love confessions, fluff, aftercare.

Sequel to: ‘Thinking about her’

Summary: Steve and Bucky finally confess their feelings to their female secretary, and luckily everything goes in their favor.

2nd person POV

It was another day at the Avengers Tower, and you were as per usual at your office handling the two super soldiers’ routine work such as letters and other paper work. Steve and Bucky had appointed a time in the afternoon to have a meeting with you.

While it was just a regular meeting of the week going over important future events they have to be prepared for, you always looked forward to those meetings.

You couldn’t help but thrive in the feelings the two men gave you as you sat alone all three, occasionally talking about personal things like the friends you had grown to be. It felt good, and you thought it was harmless to have a crush on them.

Okay, ‘crush’ could be an understatement, but it was still harmless if you kept it to yourself, right?

It wasn’t like you had expectations of them returning those feelings to you. You could tell what they had lied so deep, there was no way they would leave it for anyone else.

And you were completely fine with that. Seeing the two together made you believe soulmates for life was a real thing, and you looked forward to the day you would find your own.

But until then…

You kicked your feet giddily as you were waiting for the two men to arrive in the empty meeting room. A stack of files were in front of you and you kept a mantra in your head of all the topics you had to inform them about.

They finally came by the door minutes later, apologizing for their slight delay as they sat on each side, putting you in the middle.

You felt butterflies swirl in your stomach as they smiled at you ever so kindly, making small talk of asking how your day was and if you’ve eaten or drank enough water.

You respond saying you’re feeling just fine as you bring forward the folders, a copy for each to look at before you begin going through them.

It was much of the same schedule the super soldiers had followed for months, most importantly noted being that there was an international conference hosted by T’challa on Friday for them to attend to and a gathered Avengers meeting on the weekend.

As you rounded up the report of their upcoming schedule, you looked up at them, expecting that to be the end of the meeting as they thanked you for the report. But as you were about to stand up and conclude the meeting, they stopped you from rising up from your seat.

Bucky and Steve exchange each other confirming glances before they faced you again.

“Y/N, Bucky and I have something important we’d like to share with you…if you aren’t otherwise in a hurry to get home for the evening.” Steve begins.

You stared at him, your heart noticeably skipping a beat from the super soldiers’ ears as you say, “I’m not in a hurry…what’s up, boys?”

“We uh…”

“Well, you see…um…”

The men turn to each other again as if they are now realizing how difficult it is to lay out their confession of love to you compared to how they had imagined it in their heads. You all the meanwhile stared at them dumbfounded, not sure what was going on between them.

“…Is everything okay?” You ask with a hint of worry in your voice. “Has something happened that I should know about?”

“No, - I mean yes, everything is fine, it’s just…” Steve says. “We are a bit nervous to tell you, because…”

“…as it turns out…” Bucky slowly fills in.

“…we have feelings for you, Y/N. Both of us.”

“….Oh…wait, what?” You ask as you pull a double take when you let their words sink in. “How? - But -…aren’t you two together?” You ask the question with a confused frown. “I thought you had each other?”

“Well yes - of course we still love each other but, - we have kind of mutually developed feelings for you. And we aren’t just interested in you for ‘curious’ reasons - we genuinely like you, more like you’ve captivated us beyond just liking you, you know?”

Steve clears his throat as he speaks over Bucky, “What Bucky is trying to say is we both absolutely adore you, - how sweet and caring you are towards us in what feels like is something beyond just your job as a secretary and friend. It has come to us realizing we have more love to share, and we would like to share it with you. But we would also like to take you out on dates first as the three of us to explore our dynamic…with a romantic viewpoint.”

“That is…if you feel the same.” Bucky quickly adds. “Do you?”

You’re left in awe after everything they have told you, and you close your mouth as you try to gather your thoughts. “Wow, I…I’m in shock honestly. I didn’t expect this at all…” you say, causing Steve and Bucky to stiffen as fear starts to settle in on a possible rejection.

Had they read you wrong? Had they misunderstood your physical reactions for something else?

Steve shakes off the worries as he fills the paused silence with a thoughtful reminder, “You can think about it for as long as you’d like. We understand this might be all too overwhelming for you, so if you’d like for us to give you some space while you consider -!”

You shake your head as you dismiss Steve, “Wait, no…I…- truth is, I’ve had a huge crush on both of you for a while. But I never spoke or tried to make a move on any of you because I respect your relationship, and I would never, and I mean never try to ruin what you have. What you have is beautiful and I…” you sigh as your eyes get glossy. “I can’t believe you’re both interested in bringing someone like me into it. Like, do you truly mean that? Because I swear if you’re pulling a prank on me, I’m quitting today -!”

“We’re not!…we promise you that.” Bucky chuckles at your doubts, but also pulls a face of fondness. “And why would you think ‘someone like you’ wouldn’t be perfect for us? Sure, we are the super soldiers here but there’s only one of you in the entire world.”

“We have lived for a very long time and met all kinds of people. We know what we want.” Steve says. “We want you, as much as we want to be yours.”

“So what do you say?” Bucky asks as he gets closer to you, gently placing his hand on yours at the table. “Can you at least give it a chance?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you know already the answer to that, but still you take a moment to give it to them. “I…yes. I absolutely want to give it a chance.” You answer with a bright smile, and you witness as they pull gleeful smiles of their own.

The two men pull you into an embrace, surrounding you with excitement. You chuckle as you welcome them, pulling them closer with your own arms.

“But, that doesn’t mean I’m jumping into bed with any of you on the first week.” You clarify in a playful manner. “I’m not that kind of girl, you know.”

Both men hum as Steve comments, “Of course, we don’t expect any less, doll. I don’t know about Buck but I can wait for as long as you want before doing any of that if it means you’ll be ours.”

Bucky bumps into Steve’s shoulder, huffing, “I can wait too just fine!”

Steve narrows an eyebrow and teasingly replies, “oh really? I seem to remember back on you being particularly needy one night and expressing how -!”

Bucky shoves his palm over Steve’s mouth, making him unable to finish his sentence. “Okay, that’s enough oversharing, Steve…”

Giggles erupt from you and the two men turn to you, smiling somewhat confused.

You shook your head, “Don’t you worry James, I’m not going to lead you on. Just work for it and you might get some of me soon enough. That includes you too, Steve.”

Both men nodded, saying in unison “Yes, ma’am” before they wrapped an arm around each of her side and left to the parking lot to drive off for some more spend together.

The next few weeks consisted of dates in romantic locations and dinners at each other’s places.

As true to the men’s word, they never pressured you into anything, - so much so that you had to engage in your first kisses with them. Kissing would develop into sweet long-drawn kisses, then eventually into full make out sessions.

While they were heated and breathless by the end of it, nothing went beyond of what you wanted and you continued your conversations like it was nothing, - except the noticeable big bulges between their legs said otherwise when they so easily dismissed it.

One night during the usual ‘at home’ dinner though, you felt you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer either from what you desired, and one thing led to another involving the new founded throuple relationship.

You were on your knees, bare as the two men had gloried over your body earlier, seeing you bare for the first time. You had to stop them from taking it further as you were eager to please them first and have them reveal their naked selves too.

Before you knew it, they had unbuckled their belts and zipped down their trousers, revealing their huge semi hard cocks, twitching out of their restraints.

You took notice of how Bucky’s cock is thicker while Steve’s is longer, and even then your small hands struggle to fully wrap around both. You swallow as you ogle their lengths, licking your lips at the sight of them leaking pre-cum already. The men chuckled lowly, gesturing you to touch them any way you wanted to.

“Get closer to each other. My hands are too small to pleasure you both properly at the same time…” you pointed out with an undertone of nervousness.

Steve and Bucky could tell you were a bit anxious with the pressure on you as you were giving them pleasure by your own, so they encouraged you with tender strokes on your shoulder.

“You’re doing such a good job honey, don’t worry your pretty head…” Steve reassured.

“But don’t mind if we do get a little close...” Bucky added smugly as he got closely to Steve, letting you guide his cock to rub against Steve’s as you stroked them both in the same pace. You licked and sucked their cocks, taking turns as you swirled your tongue to have a taste of their pre-cum.

They grunted and held a hand on each side of your shoulder, encouraging you to keep going.

“Fuck, look at her…she’s more amazing than I imagined her to be..”

“Mmm, she’s perfect. You’re perfect, doll.” Steve redirected to you.

You looked up at them with doe eyes as you sucked their tips together, and the men thought they were loosing it at that moment.

“Oh fuck….Bucky…” Steve called after his lovers’ name to catch his attention before leaning in to kiss him, moans and whimpers leaving their mouths as you kept pleasuring them where it mattered.

You hummed around their cocks as you were sending down vibrations to their shaft, making them receive a shockwave of pleasure.

“Fuck! M’gonna cum, Y/N…milk us…take our cum…shit!” Bucky cursed as he felt his balls tightening. Steve followed suit too, releasing himself into your mouth.

“Fucking hell…” Steve groaned at the sight of you trying to swallow their loads, but ultimately spilling some down your chin.

“Language…” Bucky joked through a murmur, making Steve roll his eyes with a smile.

With the use of his thumb, Steve gathered what had spilled up from your chin to between your lips, having you suck his fingers clean lewdly.

Steve purred in delight, “What a good girl you are…taking us both like a champ.”

“Now you’re about to receive twice the reward, sweetheart…you sure you’re ready for it?”

You nodded eagerly, “oh fuck yes, don’t hold back on my account…”

The men smirked, knowing she was in for it all.

“Holy shit!”

Bucky had a wicked grin as his tongue glided along your folds, not holding back with the way his tongue explored you as per your request.

Steve cooed, “Look at her cute little button…so puffy and sensitive, isn’t it?” He kept rubbing your clit with his thumb, making your whole body twitch in pleasure. Bucky hummed against you in response just then, not leaving his lips from your quivering heat.

He managed to mutter something in the lines of ‘tastes so good, doll’ while his tongue found the source of your wetness, lapping up every drop of pussy juice that threatened to leave for the mattress beneath you.

“I can’t - I don’t wanna cum before I have a dick inside of me..” you whined, and the men stopped as they grinned, looking at each other.

“Who’s dick do you want in you first, doll?” Steve then asked teasingly while stroking your cheek.

“…I don’t know…” you answered, suddenly pondering. “Do I really have to choose?…”

“Well you can’t have us both at the same time…you’re not ready for that.” Steve spoke, humored.

Bucky held his gaze at Steve, “I think…it’s best if you take her first, Stevie. You have better control than I do and I wouldn’t want to ruin the mood or hurt you, Y/N.” He then turns to look at you for a brief moment.

Your face falls at Bucky’s words and you’re about to open your mouth to speak but Steve beats you to it. “You couldn’t hurt her, Buck…but if you feel doubtful of yourself, I’ll take it into my own hands for now until you feel more sure. Does that sound good, doll?” Steve asks as he looks at you too.

You nod, agreeing to the solution as Bucky encourages it with a soft expression. “Sounds good.”

Steve sucks in his breath as he pushes his tip through your folds, holding your hips graciously with you on your back. “Gonna give it to you long and hard…you’ll never want for anything other than us, doll.”

A whimper escaped your lips as Steve impales you. “S-So big…you might split me in half..”

He chuckled at the underlying compliment and strokes your cheek gently. “I won’t move until you say so, love…take your time in getting used to my size, okay?” He says and strokes your clit gently.

You groan and nod in response, “mhm, just give me a minute…”

“We’ve got all the time in the world…” Bucky reassures as he gets behind Steve and caresses his body.

You groan at the sight, “Apart from the love between you two which I adore, - you look so hot together.”

“Yeah? You have always enjoyed watching us being intimate haven’t you?” Steve teased as he leans back a little more against Bucky. “Since the very beginning, we could smell it on you…”

Your face turned red as you realized, shit, of course they could tell when you were aroused. They are enhanced in everything to smell such things…

Bucky interrupted your overthinking with his chuckle, “don’t let it embarrass you, doll…your bodily reactions only ensured you felt the same…thanks to your honest body, we’re here together at all.”

“Now, while we wait for you to get ready, how about we give you a show?” Steve suggested with a seductive grin. You nodded feverishly as Steve turned his head behind to give Bucky a loving kiss, with Bucky’s hands wandering around Steve’s pecs and stomach. Steve then sneaked his hand below and stroke Bucky’s cock as Bucky stared down at you, mesmerized.

“Fuuck, seeing you buried inside Y/N makes me so fuckin’ horny…” at Bucky’s confession, you blush profusely.

“Yeah? Well, if you’re so needy and desperate, you know what you could do about it.”

Bucky’s eyes wandered down to Steve’s ass. “Oh, don’t I know it…” He reached for the lube on the nightstand and inserted some into Steve’s puckered hole with his metal finger, making Steve grunt with arousal. Bucky positioned himself, towering over Steve’s back.

“Just shove yourself in already…you know I can take-!” Steve’s sentence is cut out from a sharp hiss as Bucky slides home.

You witness before your very eyes as Steve closes his eyes tightly, a high pitched moan getting choked as he grits his teeth. His long drawn ‘fuuuuck~’ is the confirming evidence you gather that he’s feeling absolutely amazing.

You can’t help yourself and cover your mouth to hide how turned on you are by this very scenery. Your attempts are due to fail as you feel your core growing wetter and tighter. “…I’m…”

“Fuck, you’re hugging my cock even tighter than before…” Steve purred as he glanced at you through his lashes. “Mmh, does it turn you on to see me between you like this? - Shit…” Steve cursed as Bucky got himself fully seethed inside of him. Steve’s once self assured look was growing twitchy and fading into one of a bottom.

Steve’s cock pulsed inside of you, making you mewl, “Y-Yes! It’s so hot and - god, I need you to start moving, Steve. I’m so ready to be fucked…”

“You hear that? Our girl wants to have her sweet pussy fucked…let’s fulfill her needs, shall we?” Steve nodded and Bucky started to move, causing Steve’s hips to move with him, creating a thrust.

You bit back a loud moan, your breath growing shallow as Steve’s length drags through your tight channel.

Bucky smirked as he looked over Steve’s shoulder, his eyebrows knitted in pleasure, “damn, Stevie…look at what you’re doing to her…”

Steve moaned as he didn’t take his eyes off of you, seeing the way your face scrunches in pleasure for each thrust. “…don’t hold back any noises, love. We want to hear all of it…”

You nod and let a whimper escape you. Bucky starts to move faster just then, encouraging Steve to go along the rhythm as they stay connected. While Bucky leaves rough grunting noises, Steve and you left ones of whines and moans of various pitches.

The pleasure of being deep inside of you while having his prostate hit was overwhelming for Steve, “oh my…” is all he can mutter out as moans take over his speech.

“Steve…aahh!~” you moan as you feel Steve’s cock nudging against the deepest parts inside of you, and you become flushed from overwhelming amount of pleasure.

“Please, cum inside, Steve…I’m on the pill, it’s fine…mmmh~ need it…”

“A-Alright whatever you want, doll…- fuuuck!” Steve aches his back behind as he becomes overdriven, feeling his male lover’s cock continuously hitting his prostate which makes him all the more weak.

Bucky can only snicker from pride as he picks up the pace. “Found your sweet spot, huh? I always do…”

Steve could only groan in response as the sex gets more intense. He feels an overwhelming pleasure being between his two lovers, one piercing inside of him while he’s deep inside the other.

It feels absolutely ecstatic.

“Gonna dump my cum inside you any moment, Stevie…” Bucky suddenly announces while he grunts and pounds relentlessly into Steve’s ass until he reaches his climax through a loud gasp.

You gasp, “Oh shit, I’m going to…”

Steve whines just then, feeling you become close too as he shouts, “C-cumming!..” while biting his lip.

Steve spills deeply into you, coating your walls in hot sticky cum while Bucky does the same inside of him. It’s all too much for the three of you as you go through your highs, remaining still as you catch your breaths from your first round of mutual orgasms.

Bucky pulled out of Steve, making him whimper as his cock slips out of your oozing pussy, exposing what he had left behind. Bucky leaned in to kiss Steve’s shoulder, watching down on you at your post orgasmic expression. He chuckled when he caught your playful smirk, and he pulls up Steve with him to sit up before parting Steve’s legs a little.

“Look at that…” Bucky pointed out as he spread Steve’s ass cheeks, showing the sticky mess he had left behind. Bucky took notice of the way you licked your lips at the sight, and immediately suggested in his husky voice, “Would you like to clean him up? I’ll clean Stevie’s mess on you in the meantime…”

Steve turned around as he understood what Bucky was proposing and blushed, “You don’t need to do that, doll…it’s probably new to you and -!”

You shake your head, "No, I want to do it. Bring America’s ass over to me.” you interrupted, determination showing through your features as your lips form a smirk.

Steve blushes even more furiously at your confidence, not expecting to hear that at all. “Oh…well, since you’re offering and only if you want to…”

Bucky snorts as he nudges at Steve with his shoulder, “You’re catching Stevie off guard and it’s making him all flustered…been a while since I’ve seen him this red.” He comments, snickering as he pulls your lower body over to him and licks up Steve’s and yours mess between your legs, making you groan.

Steve simply huffs, and Bucky adds an order, “Get in front of her face, Steve. Our naughty girl said she wants a taste, so let her have it…” while he spread your thighs wide apart, his mouth eagerly meeting your pussy again and sucking out the cum dripping out of your cunt.

You moan from the pleasure Bucky provides you, but you stay composed to take care of the other big man beside you.

Steve helps you gain easy access as he spreads his ass cheeks apart, anticipation written all over his face as you inch closer to his hole, your nose nudging against his balls in the process while your tongue makes its way. He groans when he feels you licking around his rim where Bucky’s cum is dripping out, and he shivers when you hum against his sensitive skin from savoring the taste.

“Ahh…that’s it…” Steve speaks through a low rumble and he spreads his legs wider as you get closer to him. “Oohh, I’m so in love with you…”

You snicker as you tease him with your tongue techniques, but as you feel Bucky forcing his own wet muscle inside of you, you begin to crumble yourself. “J-James…”

Bucky coos at your whine, assuming you’re feeling overwhelmed. “It’s okay, sweetheart…m’just cleaning your insides, that’s all…won’t leave ya overstimulated…”

“N-No, that’s not it…” you whine once more while shaking your head, “I want you inside of me.”

Bucky’s eyes widen as he feels his cock harden by this very plead, but he still restrains himself, “Are you sure? Doll, you just had Steve and he’s no bigger than me…besides, I’m not sure I’d be able to hold back…”

“I don’t care.” You say, biting your lip at how needy you make yourself sound, but you’re desperate. “I need your cock…please, I need you to fuck me before we call it a night.”

Bucky glances at Steve who has a growing smirk on his face, “I think you should give our doll what she wants, Buck. You don’t want to deny her when she’s begging so nicely, do you?”

Bucky hums in thought before he shakes his head, “no…I don’t.” He rises up above you as he strokes his shaft, his cock pulsing with anticipation. “Turn around, sweetheart. I’m taking you doggy style.”

You grin seductively and do as he says, raising your ass up. A moan leaves your lips as you feel Bucky’s cool metal arm wrap around you while he uses his other hand to guide his cock to your heat.

“Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this for so long, doll…I’m going to savor every moment of taking this cunt…”

You mewl as Bucky takes a hold of your hips almost possessively while he guides for your bodies to meet. His tip intrudes against your entrance as he pushes forward, and before you know it, his whole length seeps in, making you cry out in pleasure.

Steve kneels in front of you as he takes in Bucky picking up a rhythm, his thrusts quickly going from gentle to desperate. He then turns his gaze at you and notices you’re looking up at him directly, as if you’re pleading for something. Steve caresses your chin with a smirk growing on his face, and he gives you what you want as he inches himself closer, his cock stiffening again when your lips meets it.

The room becomes filled with filthy moans, grunts and curses for the next moments as they engage in the spitroast.

“O-One thing for sure…I’m never gonna be needing that pussy pocket ever again.” Bucky breaks the silence from behind you as he stutters his hips desperately into you. You moan as it dawns over you what he was implying. They had fantasized about you before.

“Yeah, we won’t have to…you’re such a good girl for taking care of us…so, so proud of you…” Steve murmurs his praises as he takes in the sight of you sucking his balls before licking your way up to his tip again where you continue sucking him off.

Bucky clenches his teeth as he realizes he’s far too gone to hold it any longer, and he announces through a weakened whisper, “I’m about to bust…”

“Right behind you…want to be fed with my cum, doll?” Steve asks, his breath now shortening.

Your head bobs, giving an eager ‘yes’ as you swallow him inside your mouth some more. Steve guides you to take more of his cock down your throat, his hips bucking forward with neediness while he reaches his own climax.

Bucky fills you to the brim with a final thrust, emptying himself as he throws his head back. “Ah fuck!!” The senation Bucky provides makes your orgasm crash over you, having you quivering underneath him.

You roll your eyes to the back of your head as Steve’s cum spurts down your throat, what feels like buckets. You pull your mouth off of him and gasp for air as you swipe your tongue around your lips, gathering any drop that managed to escape. Steve leans down onto the bed to cool down, his cock finally softening after what felt like hours of sex.

Bucky brings you carefully with him to lie down too, his cock slipping out of your pussy as he softens, allowing his cum to escape and drip down between your legs.

As you catch your breath, you can’t help but laugh a little, making the super soldiers perk down at you curiously.

“You guys cum a lot…and it’s what, your third orgasm? How is that even possible? Never met guys who can do that.” You share as you chuckle, amused.

“We’re enhanced, sweetheart…we’re supposed to be above average in several aspects. That includes going for several rounds without tapping out.” Steve explains as he sends a wink your way.

You giggle at that while they bring you closer between them, nuzzling against you as you go into a session of aftercare.

“This has to be the best sex I’ve had in a long time…” you sigh with satisfaction, “I don’t think I could ever get enough of this…” the men simply hum, agreeing with your thought.

“Trust me, there’ll be more of where that came from….plenty of it, every day if it’s what you desire.” Bucky speaks in a teasing tone as he steals a kiss from you, holding his gaze at you ever so lovingly.

Steve hums in agreement as he adds, “or, even if you would only want it once in a while, we will to our best abilities make you crave more and more each time we do it…” he leans in to take a passionate kiss from you too, not being able to help himself from joining the soft intimacy.

You express fondness by your smile alone as you look in between them, and when Bucky and Steve reach for each other above you for a final sweet kiss, you’re settled in for a good night sleep, the three of you feeling so closely connected like never before.

N/A: This turned out incredibly filthy…so I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 🤭

Hearts + Reblogs are incredibly appreciated! <3

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[itsthewritergal]

One Week - B.Barnes x reader

PART 1

PART 3

Here is part two my loves, there will be a final 3rd part,

TW: suicide, death, character death, breakup, general sadness, suicide notes, swearing.

(also I won't be making a taglist for the next part so please turn notifs on so you don't miss it!)

Bucky couldn’t watch, he had resulted to cleaning the blood from between the joints on his metal hand. The quinjet hummed slowly, providing little comfort to Bucky’s swirling thoughts.  Steve and Wanda were talking quietly, not quietly enough for Bucky’s liking. 

“Did you read yours?” Steve asked, gesturing to the letter that Wanda had clutched in her hand 

“No, I won’t. She wrote it for me to read when she wasn’t here. She is here. I don’t need to read it” Wanda said sadly, her letter was still sealed in the envelope with her name neatly swirled on the front. Her eyes fell on Y/N’s sleeping frame, Tony had taken the decision to sedate her, she had refused to be taken out of the cell, still clutching desperately to the hope of death. They had all tried their hardest to level with her, but nothing worked, everyone had tried their best, everyone except Bucky. He couldn’t find a single word to say to her as she was desperately asking everyone to kill her. 

“We will be landing at the compound in ten minutes” Tony said to nobody in particular but everyone stopped and listened 

“I think we should take her to a hospital” Nat said calmly, she was too calm for Bucky’s liking. He couldn’t understand how she wasn’t tearing herself apart for letting Y/N get to this state. 

“She needs to be at home” Tony said firmly 

“The compound isn’t her home” Nat answered curtly 

“It used to be” Wanda mused, thinking of the days that Y/N had spent wandering around the compound as she watched Bucky training, or cooking together, it used to be her home. 

“It isn’t now” Clint agreed with Nat, “A few months ago I would have said the same Tony, but now, well now she needs to be at a hospital. She needs to be given the choice to come back with us” 

“Cap?” Tony asked, 

“I agree” Steve said, 

“So do I” Sam added, 

Bucky stayed silent.

“Fine, I’ll reroute to the hospital” Tony said with a sigh. 

“Mr Stark, Dr Cho told me you were on your way, I’m Doctor Simmonds, I’ll be treating Y/N today,” A doctor said meeting Tony at the entrance door to the Quinjet, 

“You need to treat this girl as though she’s one of ours, understand?” Tony said firmly, 

“I understand” He said simply following a few nurses as they placed Y/N onto a stretcher and carried her into the hospital, “Can you tell me the extent of her injuries?” He asked 

“We haven’t examined her” Nat interrupted, “She was held for around 23 hours, we are unsure of what happened.” 

“I understand, now if you could all wait outside. I’m going to examine her and let you know what I’ve found” He said as he disappeared behind a closed door that Y/N was lying behind. 

“We should have gone in with her” Steve said, 

“He needs to do his job, and we need to wait” Wanda softly said, there was a nervous edge to her words, Bucky picked up on it. 

“Coffee anyone?” Nat suggested, a few nodded, “Bucky come help me” She said 

“You can handle it” Bucky said his gaze still on the floor 

“Now Bucky” Nat left no room for argument and Bucky followed her silently through the halls. “You need to tell me what happened” She said firmly 

“I don’t know what you mean” Bucky replied 

“When you broke up, what the hell happened?” Nat said, her eyes flaming with something Bucky didn’t want to deal with 

“We broke up” he said bluntly “There isn’t anything else to say” 

“You’ve been seeing other people whilst she’s been planning her suicide” She whispered fiercely, “What the hell did you do to her?”  It was one of the only times Bucky had seen Nat loose her cool in such a dramatic way, 

“Nothing happened” He reiterated simply 

“Don’t be that guy” nat snapped, “Five coffee’s please, black, double shot in all of them” She said to the girl stood starstruck behind the counter 

“Look, nothing happened” Bucky said “We split” 

“Who made the decision?” 

“I did” he replied, his eyes fixating on his boots once more, 

“Why?” 

“We didn’t work together, do you need a full rundown on my life?” He snapped louder than he wanted, 

“Just on your breakup” Nat replied quickly, “Why didn’t you work?” 

“I couldn’t do it, she was too much.” He didn’t mean it, he didn’t know how he could explain it in any other way to Nat 

“Too much how?” 

“Here you are” the girl behind the counter placed the coffees down, Nat muttered a thank you. 

“I like my life, I like being alone. I enjoy coming home alone. I don’t need anyone else in my life to look after,” He snapped, 

“You’re not telling the truth” Nat whispered “You forget, I used to be the best interrogator that SHIELD had ever seen. I see through you Bucky, and whatever you did to hurt that girl—”

“I told her I didn’t love her,” he whispered “I told her she was too much for me. Told her that she was naive and young and stupid.  I said that I didn’t want to deal with her or look after her or have to love her” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“Because I was scared, she is good. She is innocent, and kind, and gentle, and she kissed me as if I was good too. I’m not. So I ended things, and I said things that I won’t ever repeat because the words already haunt me enough” he sighed “I dated those girls after her because they weren’t good people, or nice people, I suited them better, there wasn’t anything to ruin. With Y/N, I was killing her slowly and she didn’t even know it” Bucky said, his chest heaving once he finished , 

“Bucky” Nat started, 

“I needed her to hate me” He said softly, 

“You failed” Tony said from behind him, “I came to help get the coffee” He explained once Nat gave him a confused look “She doesn’t hate you, she hates herself. I dread to think what she’s been thinking of herself the past few months because of you” 

“Tony enough” Nat stopped him 

“Y/N is lying in a hospital bed sedated because he was a coward” Tony snapped, “When she wakes up, you best hope that she forgives you, because if there’s a shred of anything other than forgiveness in her words I will kill you” He said turning and walking away. His words were calm, and collected, Bucky knew he was sincere. It should have scared him, but it didn’t. 

“Mr Stark?” Dr Simmonds asked coming out of Y/N’s room, 

“How is she?” Tony stood up from the uncomfortable plastic chair, 

“We need to admit her to an inpatient facility” His voice made Bucky’s blood run cold, “In order to do this I need a signature from her next of kin” he continued to explain, “I reached out to her sister, who is on file as her next of kin, except it seems that she passed away a few months back and I need to know if there are any other living relatives for me to contact for permission” The room went silent, 

“Her sister died?” Wanda parroted 

“According to our records around ten months ago” Dr Simmonds said, 

“She doesn’t have any other family, her parents died when she was little and her sister was all she had left” Bucky said stoically 

“This isn’t the answer you’re going to want to hear but without a next of kin I can’t admit her” Dr Simmonds explained softly 

“We can look after her at the compound” Tony said, 

“Tony, we can’t make a decision like that without talking to her” Steve cut in. 

“I agree with the Captain, Mr Stark. She’s still drowsy from the sedation but uprooting her in the state she’s in isn’t a good idea” 

“What state is she in?” Nat asked 

“She’s malnourished, dehydrated, exhausted. Nothing physically wrong apart from a few minor lacerations and bruising, but she’s not been taking care of herself. If you hadn’t told me she’d only been taken for 24 hours I’d have guessed it would have been at least 3 months” He explained 

“She’s depressed” Tony muttered softly 

“Without talking to her at length I can’t make that diagnosis, she’s clearly grieving her sister. Amongst other things but I don’t know what those are yet. I’ve asked for psych to come and give her a full examination just so we know what we are dealing with. But without a next of kin, my hands are tied” 

“What about an old next of kin?” Bucky asked slowly, 

“Y/N would have to sign off on it, are you a past next of kin for her?” The Dr asked, eyeing Bucky with a look of distain, the pieces clicking into place slowly. Bucky nodded, “I’d have to check with the board” The Dr explained. 

“Can we see her?” Wanda asked changing the subject quickly. 

“I will ask her, but I’m not promising anything” Dr Simmonds said with a nod, retuning back behind the closed door.  

The next few minutes were painful, nobody dared to sit down in case Y/N asked to see them. Bucky could hear muffled voices behind the door and it killed him that Y/N was so close but he couldn’t reach her, he wouldn’t dare to reach her in case of anything making her worse. 

“Mr Stark” Dr Simmonds said stepping out the room, “She has agreed to see you” 

Tony didn’t say a word and instead followed the doctor through the door and into the room. Y/N was sat in bed, restraints lay idle on the bed, untied, Tony’s eyes went straight to them. 

“They took them off about an hour ago” She said quietly, knowing what Tony was thinking. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked carefully sitting in a plastic chair that had been placed at her bedside, 

“I’m sorry” She said, calmly. 

“None of that” Tony said firmly, patting her hand comfortingly 

“I didn’t want anyone to know, I just needed it to be over” She said “And then they came and it seemed like the best way out. I’m sorry I put you through all that” 

“You don’t need to apologise,” Tony said “Let me help you, please?” 

“I’ve spoken to the doctor, lots of doctors and I’m okay. Really. I’m okay” She promised sincerely

“They want to admit you” Tony said slowly, watching as Y/N’s face fell, 

“They said”

“They can’t though, because of your next of kin. They need a signature and it—”

“She’s dead” Y/N bluntly whispered  

“I would like for you to come and live at the compound for the next few weeks, just until you get back on your feet” He said softly 

“I won’t put you or anyone else through that” 

“You mean Bucky” Tony said, he knew it was risky to bring him up but he needed to know how best to help Y/N. 

Y/N’s eyes glazed over sadly, and she pulled her knees up to her chest. 

“This isn’t his fault. Believe it or not the breakup was actually probably the least bad thing that happened this year” She said with a half hearted chuckle, 

“I’m sorry, I should have been there for you” Tony said, “everyone is here to help. Just let us look after you for a week. That’s all” 

“I promise I’m okay” 

“I know you are, I need to do this for me, let me help” Tony said, it was a lie. He needed to know that Y/N was somewhere safe and once she was there for a week he could convince her to stay longer, he was sure of it. 

“One week” 

“One week” Tony nodded. 

Tony had instructed Wanda, Bucky and Steve to set up a room for Y/N whilst he filled out some paperwork for Y/N. 

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked Bucky as they walked through the empty compound, towards one of the guest rooms, 

“I don’t think you should be asking me that” Bucky kept his eyes trained on the ground. His shoulders hunched, 

“This is as hard on you as it is on her” Wanda said 

“It’s not, I never tried to end my life. I made her do that. It was my words that forced her into that position” Bucky said, his filter had gone, he was bleeding raw emotions onto the floor of the compound and he couldn’t stop. 

“That wasn’t your fault, you can’t stay with someone just in case they get depressed when you leave. That’s basically blackmail” Steve said 

“She didn’t deserve this. I promised her I’d be with her for the rest of her life. I swore she’d never be alone again and then I left. I’m no better than anyone else in her life” 

“She doesn’t hate you” Wanda said, 

“What?” Bucky asked, 

“I read the letter, I didn’t think I was going to but I couldn’t stop myself” Wanda said pulling it out of her pocket “but she told me that it wasn’t your fault” 

“Stop” Bucky said, 

“Bucky she didn’t do it because of you” Wanda said 

“She needs some plants in here” Bucky said firmly as they opened up the door to Y/N’s new room, 

“Buck” Steve started 

“And her fairy lights, on the ceiling, she likes them to look like stars” Bucky continued. “We don’t have very long, we need to get started”

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