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samodivaa · 8 months

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┊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

#im so real for this #WHAT DO I EVEN TAG LIKE BRO #metal arm kink fr #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader headcanon #bucky headcanon #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky smut

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buckysbabygorl · 1 year

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Punching Bag (Bucky Angst)

Summary: As much as Bucky can't stand Y/N, he's tired of her taking all the blows on the field. They have to come up with a plan.

Word Count: N/A

“Get your hands off me.”

She shoved him away, as best she could given her state.

“I can do it myself.”

She took the med kit from his hands, in her drunken stupor she stumbled to the dining table, fumbling with the latches on the case.

Bucky was tired. All he wanted to do was sleep after a long—god awful---day and put the mission behind him.

He dropped his mission bag at the doorway.

“All you’re going to do is make it worse. I don’t need you waking up tomorrow complaining about your drunken hack job.”

She glared at him, pulling out supplies.

“Sober or not, I can stitch myself up fine. Just because I’m not an army vet doesn’t mean I don’t know basic field medics.”

She mumbled something more under her breath; probably dick or asshole, some of her common artillery when insulting him.

He didn’t need this. He really didn’t need this right now. Today had been hard, and for Bucky that was saying something. Whether it was being back in Russia, during its coldest and iciest period of the season; or being stuck with the person he loathed the most, he wasn’t sure what had triggered him.

But he was on edge and exhausted, and he wanted this night to end.

Then she had to go and get stabbed of all things, and now this dark hour was dragging on and on and on...

It was then Bucky realized that this sad excuse of a safe house would not give him enough space from her. It was a bachelor style apartment, something small enough that would never catch the eye of enemies, tucked away in an complex that was filled with much more shady individuals that them. There was a kitchenette, a dining table with two chairs, and a couch that pulled out. There was also a rickety old rocking chair, which looked far from comfortable.

This night wouldn't get any shorter.

“Ow.”

She stabbed her self softly with the needle, swaying slightly as she tried to stablize herself.

“Jesus Christ," Bucky said, "did you even wash your hands?”

“Fuck you.” She retorted.

His jaw tensed as he stopped himself from raising his hands, he wanted to tear his hair out strand by strand.

Why was she always so fucking argumentative?

“Would you stop saying that?”

He strode across the room, kneeling in front of her chair and grabbed her arm.

She attempted to pull away from him, which was stupid to do with a needle in hand.

“Let go.” She demanded.

She pulled back, hard, and Bucky gripped her forearm.

“Will you just—enough.” His voice stern and commanding.

She halted, slightly hazey and swaying. But she stopped.

Bucky let out a frustrated sigh.

“For once, can you just shut up and listen? For five seconds, can you do that?”

She blinked slowly at him, pursing her lips.

He recognized that look in her eye; it was always followed by a sly grin, a tilt of her head that said “what are you gonna do about it, Sergeant?”

This time, she slumped back into her chair. She relaxed her arm and used the other to shove the kit towards him.

“Fine. Do your worst. I don’t give a shit if you leave a scar.”

He waited a moment, to see if she’d say something more or change her mind, maybe smack his hand away one more time.

But she didn’t.

So Bucky picked up the needle and went to work.

She didn’t look at him while he stitched her up, remaining in her dead stare as she looked straight at the wall.

She winced a few times but said nothing.

After a few minutes, the quiet made Bucky’s skin itch.

“Why did you jump at her, anyways? I had it covered.”

Y/N closed her eyes, inhaling through gritted teeth.

Responding wasn’t worth the effort, so she shrugged.

“Really? You’re not going to say anything?” He asked.

She groaned. “Does it matter? Not like I can do anything about it now.”

He shook his head, continuing as if he hadn’t heard her. “--And downing a bottle of tequila won’t make you feel better.”

She bit the palm of her hand as he worked his way along her side.

Her breaths stuttered as she inhaled.

“Hurts less.” She mumbled.

He paused a moment.

He remembered what that felt like. How much these kind of things could hurt you. He could imagine the pain she was going through, he could see it in her face. But he tried to ignore it. He was still mad at her.

“I don’t get you. You do this every time, you’re not invincible you know—”

She slammed her hand on the table.

“I know that! Jesus, you tell me every time—AH!”

She pulled away from him, hurting herself as he had tightened a stitch.

He looked up as his hands steadied her, and his voice softened.

“Y/N, sit still...”

Her head was turned away from him, but he could still see the corner of her eye and the downturn of her lip.

He hadn’t realized she’d been crying.

He tilted his head down, biting on the inside of his cheek. Best to just get this over with.

“Just… sit still. I’m almost done.”

They fell into silence again. The winter snow was building up on the safe house windows, the wind pounding against the panes.

He tried to shut it out. But it was either listen to the howling storm or rehash the scenario in his brain.

Her voice came over his ear piece, she told him to watch his six; that agents were entering through the south wing of the building. He ignored her, he had it covered.

She must’ve taken his silence the wrong way; she figured he was in danger. She was like that, she’d assume the worst and abandon her post to cover. Fuck, why did she have to do that…

“Did you get a hold of Sam?”

Surprised by her question, Bucky looked up from his hands. She still wouldn’t turn to face him.

“Called him while I was walking back. Said he can get a jet in a 4 am. With the storm it’s hard to get here—”

She winced again. He groaned.

“Stop moving.”

She awed at the ceiling and clenched her hand into a fist.

“My god, would it kill you to have some sympathy?”

He tied off the suture and snipped the thread.

“I don’t have sympathy for idiocy.”

She scoffed, “Fuck you.”

Which she had said for the umpteenth time today.

He decided to ignore it. But he was still fuming, still angry at her… why, why would she do that?

He should’ve watched his six, he knew he should’ve.

They came up behind him, 4 out of the 6 agents had decided to cover his wing.

He was holding his own, but the one was smart. Patient. Waiting while the others hammered Bucky with brute force to deliver a fatal blow. She had been aiming for his right side, probably trying to stab between his right ribs or his into his spine…

“You know, normal people say thank you.” He nodded to her left side, where 10 stitches sat neatly in line.

“I could say the same thing to you.” Her words were icy, she nearly spat them at him.

Bucky scoffed. “Why should I thank you? I had it covered, you jumped in and now I have to patch your drunk-ass up—”

“I did it because it’s instinct. I saw my partner outnumbered and I saved your ass. Sorry it’s an inconvenience to you because I’m not a goddamn super soldier.”

The slam of his hand on the table made her jump, and her eyes went wide at the thought that he might actually make her shut up for once.

"You can't throw yourself in a fight where you'll get more hurt than I will."

His eyes faltered when he looked at her, "We... we talked about this Y/N--"

Silence fell between them again.

She fumbled with the bottle cap on the table, and Bucky stood still at her side.

He didn't know what more to say, and she didn't know how to respond.

Because he was right, they had talked about this before many times.

There were never tender moments between the two, but the closest they'd ever gotten to something like that was usually Y/N's recovery. They were paired together more often than not; aside from them loathing one another, they were extremely compatible.

But each time they teamed up, something like this happened.

Y/N would get stabbed, she'd get shot, she'd break a bone or two, she'd pick a fight that was out of her depths.

He'd get mad and so would she, then a day or two would pass and he'd watch her struggle with something. Whether it was taking the stairs, or doing her physio, or getting back into training...

Somehow they'd end up alone and they fell back into this same conversation.

You can't always put yourself at risk for me, I know you're skilled but there's situations where you need to be more careful.

She'd sit with it, and usually come back with the same response.

I know you're capable of taking more than most people, but it doesn't mean you get to be a punching bag. If my partner is in trouble, I'm going to step in.

There was never a solution made, because he was the immovable object and she was the unstoppable force.

In short, they were both too stubborn and too proud.

Normally, she wouldn't bring it up. But feeling brave, or drunk enough to be brave, she did.

"We're going around in circles, Barnes."

She didn't look up from the table, but he continued to stare.

"We can't fight about this every single time we go on a mission. We've requested to be separated, and that's not happening. So tell me what the fuck you want me to do, because I'm not just gonna take a seat every time it gets ugly."

He sighed, "What I'd like you to do is not be an idiot out there--"

"Hm," She took another drink, "And I'd like you to stop being an asshole."

His jaw clenched again. Every time with this girl...

"Do you not see where I'm coming from?" He gestured to her ribs, "Look at you, Y/N. How many scars is that now? From our missions alone?"

She shook her head, fiddling with the cap.

"I don't know Barnes, that's not the point."

She did know, it was nine now.

"The point is I'm not going to change my mind and neither are you. So figure it out with me instead of fighting me every chance you get. Pick a different fucking solution."

It seemed Bucky couldn't stop sighing, he wanted to walk away from this night and be done with it. But he knew they'd be back in this position a month from now, and a month after that, and so on.

So, begrudgingly, Bucky sat down at the table.

"Fine. If you won't stop being reckless--"

"--And you won't stop being a dick--"

He pointed at her, "Okay first. Stop doing that. I get you're frustrated but you swear at me a lot. I hate it. It feels like you try to pick a fight."

She went to speak, but all she could think of were insults involving curse words. He'd proven his point.

Her lip curled in a scowl, "Fine."

He nodded. "Okay."

She shifted to sit with her arms crossed on the table, eyes flicking up to him.

"Stop telling me I'm an idiot. And stop saying I'm reckless. You think it's reckless 'cause I'm not Steve or Thor, or whoever else was enhnaced on the team... just because I'm not like you guys doesn't mean I'm being stupid when I'm out there."

God, he wanted to fight her on that.

Different capabilities meant different actions in certain situations, at least in his eyes.

But he kept it to himself, at least they were starting to work on something.

"Okay..." He drew out the word, subtly saying he wasn't okay with it, but Y/N didn't care.

He could think what he wanted, but he didn't get to throw it in her face every time he wanted.

"I can't control what you do on the field." Bucky started, "You make your own calls and you... you know what you're doing out there."

Y/N smirked at the look of pain on Bucky's face, she know he hated to admit it. But she was damn good at her job.

"--but if there's a situation that I think you need to stay out of, respect me when I ask."

"What if I think I can handle it?" She questioned.

He lifted his hand off the table slightly, halting her to let him finish.

"If I need you, I'll tell you."

She rolled her eyes, "So I'm supposed to wait until my coach puts me in?"

His fists balled in frustration. "No, I'm saying be there but..."

He leaned back in his chair, looking up to the ceiling.

"I don't know, maybe we have a call sign when we both need each other."

He said that to appease her, he didn't think there would ever be a time he'd need her, but maybe she would need him. And at least it would keep her from jumping in and getting sliced to bits.

She snorted, "What, like a safe word?"

He huffed slightly, "I guess so, yeah."

That seemed to be enough conversation for her, as she stumbled out of her chair and clambered over to the musty pull out couch in the corner. She was still nursing that damn bottle in the crook of her arm.

Bucky sat, somewhat surprised that that was the end of it.

"I'm tired." She mumbled as she slipped onto the mattress, kicking her go-bag onto the ground.

I guess I'll take the floor, Bucky thought.

He raised his hands in an exaggerated shrug, his words laced with contempt. "Any thoughts on the safe word?"

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, already feeling the early effects of a hang over.

"Yeah," she muttered, "Punching bag."

Bucky waited for more from her, but after a few moments of silence, her snoring began and he accepted that as the end of their conversation.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

He accepted his place in the awful rocking chair, but not before picking the bottle of tequila out from beneath her.

He took one final look at his patch up of her ribs, before settling into his seat, eagerly waiting for Sam's arrival.

They didn't speak more of their truce after that night, but there had been an unspoken agreement on both ends to keep their promise.

They'd be less hostile towards one another; and they'd work their roles independently during missions unless someone asked for help.

And, oddly enough, their "safe word" popped up more and more with each mission. It was easier than saying the words "I need your help", because both were so stuck in their pride to ever admit that. But "punching bag" worked just fine.

In fact, they had gotten so comfortable using it during their duo missions, that it became an oddity to the rest of the Avengers in team missions.

"Barnes, what's your location?"

"Intersection of Francis Street and Main."

"I'm west of Francis by one block. Alice Street. Punching bag."

Within less than a minute, he was there.

It was rare for Bucky to use it, but every so often he had.

One time, it had been used because Bucky's metal arm had adhered to the FOD magnetic sweepers of their combatant's tank.

Y/N had laughed when she arrived, but never brought it up afterwards.

That was another thing, an interesting development so to speak. In its month's of usage, "Punching bag" somehow became "come, no questions asked."

Sam, Joaquin and Sharon had all taken notice of this new addition to their lingo; but decided not to press it. Ever since it had been implemented, the two were actually getting along. Sam would argue they were somewhat friendly with one another.

It was a peaceful three months since their Russia mission, and the team was going to ride it out as long as they could.

Bucky felt numb. Which was bad, because usually that led to an anger spiral or a drawn out dissociation episode. Neither were good options for him.

It was a bad day. A really fucking bad day.

He had called his therapist, but at the fourth call with no answer, he had assumed she was asleep.

Of course she was, it was 2 in the morning.

Bucky tried to remember what she had taught him; their so-called "game plan" when things went south.

He didn't want to listen to music, he had tried going for a walk, he had tried using that dumb journal she recommened he'd buy but he couldn't write anything down.

Call someone, she had said, your line of work has a select few that understand what you're going through. And those select few happen to be your friends, you can lean on them . That's what they're there for.

He had hovered over Sam's contact for—about—15 minutes. But he didn't want to.

Some nagging feeling in the forefront of his mind pulled him back, to lean towards someone else.

He scrolled down, clicked the contact, and sent a quick message.

Punching bag.

And then he waited.

Bucky had left his location on in their group comms chat, and Y/N was surprised to see that he was in his own apartment.

Her mind jumped to an intruder holding Bucky hostage in his own home; or him being kidnapped, leaving his phone behind and it was the last message he had been able to send before being taken away.

She got paranoid like that. She was working it out in therapy, or whatever.

Bucky rarely used their safe word, which she resented him for, but when he did she knew it was serious.

She was there in 10 minutes.

Bucky heard shuffling outside his door; as stealthy as she was, he had the fortune of super-soldier hearing.

Then she gave their call sign, an additional one that was in early development. One knock, a pause, then four knocks.

You're, one syllable, an id-i-ot, four syllables

He'd respond back with two hard knocks to signal it was clear; two syllables for "fuck you".

Apparently their old habits died hard.

He had left the door unlocked, and she entered slowly.

With a quick scan of the room, she deemed the coast was clear. Even more surprising considering the text she had received less than 15 minutes ago.

She looked at him with question, "Our safe word is usually for emergencies, y'know."

He nodded, but said nothing.

She pursed her lips, more confused but coming in regardless.

"...Alright."

She slipped off her coat and kicked off her boots. She found it odd to see him on the floor, then noticing the pillow and blankets laid out on the hardwood, she realized that's how Bucky slept.

Late at night, she put two and two together; he'd tried to sleep and couldn't.

She folded her coat and sat down across from him.

She stayed silent, patiently waiting for him.

He continued to say nothing.

She waited for a few minutes longer, prompting him to give some sort of explanation for his text.

But again, nothing.

She clapped her hands once on her knees, and stood up. Bucky panicked, fearing she would leave---

"You got back at 10, right?" She asked.

Bucky was taken aback by her knowledge of his returning home, but nodded after his pause.

She hummed, "Okay. Have you eaten?"

"Uh--" Bucky thought for a moment, realizing he hadn't. "--No."

She nodded. It was a start.

"Okay. Then uh---I'm gonna get you some food."

After digging through the cabinets whilst Bucky sat on the floor, she mustered her supplies; butter, cheese, and bread.

Grilled cheese wasn't the fanciest of meals but considering the situation, it would have to do. Besides, she didn't know how to cook anything else.

5 minutes later, a plate plopped down in front of him, and she sat cross-legged as she started on her sandwich.

He watched her for a moment, before she looked up at him with a mouthful.

"Don't let good eatings go to waste Barnes," she wiped crumbs from her lips, "I put my blood, sweat and tears into this meal."

Shockingly, even to himself, Bucky laughed. And then he ate.

"I would've added onion," She said, "But you don't seem to have... many ingredients in your fridge, Buck."

He was surprised at her wanting to use onion, and even more surprised at her usage of his first name. But he let the latter slide.

"Onion?" He questioned.

She sent an odd look back at him, "What? You've never had onion in your grilled cheese?"

When he shook his head no, she went into a ramble.

"My god, you're missing out. I'll tell you this; one time, my Pops went into this diner, you see--"

Bucky felt himself smile as she went on, telling a story of her grandpa recommending the restaurant make it a special of the day, "grilled cheese with onion", and how it had been such a hit with the locals, that they gave her grandpa a free grilled cheese every day from that day on. Which was how she knew how to make it.

She told more stories about her grandpa, then about her family, and Bucky realized he'd never heard more about her in one sitting. In fact, he realized he had known nothing about her personal life the entire time they had been working alongside eachother.

He sat happily listening, grilled cheese in hand, and even took her up on seconds as she continued to talk.

Y/N figured that, sometimes, that's what someone needs. To fill the silence, to feel the normal, especially on days that were less than good.

And eventually, the other person would start talking too.

People need distraction. Sometimes they need to talk, they need advice, or they need help and action. But when someone needs you, and they can't find the words, talking of nothingness can be the best thing.

Y/N could be good at that, something Bucky never knew about her. And, something Bucky never knew he liked.

A silence fell over them, but not like before. Not the tense words-unsaid sort. But comfortable. She washed dishes and he sat on the floor.

She flicked her hands at the sink before drying them, Bucky wondered if she did that all the time.

"So," She said, "do you want to talk about it?"

The question might have been jarring to others, but to him it wasn't. Bucky just shrugged.

"I don't think so."

He didn't need to, he thought. This was enough.

She nodded. "Okay. Do you want me to go?"

He was shaking his head before he knew it, and she smirked.

Not the spiteful one she used to adorn with him, but more of a cheeky one. One a friend might give to another.

"Alright. Do you want me to stay?"

He picked at his ratty blanket he had tucked beside him.

"Kinda." He thought before adding, "If you don't mind."

She checked her watch, "I've got nowhere to be."

She said something about a deck of cards, and went to search his house, which for some reason he didn't mind.

She found a deck, Bucky hadn't known he owned one.

"So, I'm gonna teach you how to play King's Corners, kick your ass at King's corners, and then we're gonna talk about this bed situation which is unacceptable..." she trailed off in her teasing, and Bucky found himself laughing more.

She did teach him how to play, and he ended up kicking her ass, which she claimed was beginner’s luck.

She stayed all night.

More nights like that began to happen, sometimes Bucky spoke and sometimes he didn't.

Sometimes they fought, most times they didn't.

The fights happened less and less. The all-nighters happened more and more.

And Bucky noticed more things he liked. More than her grilled cheese, more than her comfortable ramblings, and soon he found there were more things he liked than not.

She trusted Bucky to hold his own on the field, and he tried not to be as protective of her, letting her choose her own actions. They found out that was what he was afterall, and she realized she had been too.

She had been staying longer and longer. The next thing they knew, she wasn't leaving at all.

@dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable

@dumb-ass-3

@cuddlycalcifer @babyblue-07 @babybluereads @lonewolf471 @agni-l @niiight-dreamerrrr @julipmoon @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @annestine @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms @rebekahdawkins @gentlybarnes @emmabarnes

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky headcanon #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barns imagine

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mrs-bucky-barnes106 · 4 months

Text

b.b. headcanons (pt. 2) <3

part 1. part 3. part 4.

bucky barnes who lays his head in your lap while you read the hobbit to him for the fifth time in the same week. bucky barnes who never fails to bring you coffee from your favorite cafe when he meets you before noon. bucky barnes who refuses to let you cook after a long day and makes the only dish he's perfected (courtesy of his Ma :). bucky barnes who hides his insomnia from you so you don't worry about him. bucky barnes who gets mad at himself for burning the waffles he makes for you every morning, failing to notice the hearts in your eyes at the sight of him cooking. bucky barnes who claps when the plane lands. bucky barnes who always always always walks on the part of the sidewalk closest to the road so you're protected. bucky barnes who now writes good things that happened to him in his journal (instead of people he's making amends to) so he never forgets how wonderful his life is with you in it. bucky barnes who never fails to remind you every day of how grateful he is to have found you. bucky barnes who hides his face in your shoulder during the gory parts of horror films. bucky barnes who wears an apron with "kiss the chef" on it because he thinks he's being sly. bucky barnes who wears skin-tight henleys around the house. bucky barnes who leaves those henleys lying around conveniently then turns down the temperature so you're forced to wear his clothes <3

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cosmos-coma · 1 month

Note

Hi! What about a Sunshine reader x Grumpy Bucky headcanon? 😊

Oooooh, yes yes yes! (Ironically writing this while I’m a bit grumpy)

Grumpy Bucky x Sunshine Reader HCs

“What are you so smiley about? It’s 9 in the morning?” “It’s a good day! Every day I get to see you is a good day” you beamed back at him.

Damn you and your infectious smile, how is he not supposed to mimic you when you’re grinning ear to ear like that?

Bucky doesn’t necessarily try to be grumpy, he’s just an old man- it comes with the territory. Not to mention the mountains of trauma that he’s been through- it all amounts to one grumpy guy!

In mission meetings he’ll always be the one to ask about the worst case scenario, he wants to keep it in mind because missions somehow almost always go sideways and he’s just come to expect it now. Some of his closer friends on the team can occasionally pull a smile out of him, but it rarely reaches his eyes, even rarer would it show his teeth as he did.

You on the other hand are pure sunshine. Which is not to say you haven’t been through hard times- you’ve been dealt a fair share of life’s shitty hands. Yet nevertheless you still smile- you find joy and love in life’s simple aspects; the way light shines through a flower’s petals, the way the bakery smells when you pass by in the morning, or the way a dog gets such joy from chasing its own tail. Life has a lot of bad parts, it’s true- but there’s always been things to smile about.

Ever since you first laid eyes on Bucky, ever the furrowed brow and resting frown, you made it your goal to see him smile. And the first time he did? Oh, the whole world fell away, leaving you floating in space. That bright flash of teeth, the way the corners of his eyes squinted as he huffed out a laugh. Oh, you don’t remember what you said, but you so wish you did.

Now it’s your goal to see him smile like that every day- albeit a selfish goal.

There are some days through that even your sun can not help- and you know that. Days where he can’t bring himself to roll out of bed or days where everything is just too loud/too annoying/ too much. You know sunshine can’t fix everything, but that doesn’t stop you from climbing into bed beside him or taking his hand and pulling him away in an effort to make his day just that much lighter and that much brighter.

________

General Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity @simpxinnie @goldylions

If I missed or accidentally tagged you lmk! Wanna be added General Bucky taglist? Please ask/DM me!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky headcanon #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james buchanan barnes x reader #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james barnes x reader #avengers imagine

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insomniumstella · 1 year

Text

sweetest peach

bucky x bimbo!reader

warnings: implied smut, clueless!reader, pervy-ish!Bucky — the reader is more than fine with his behaviour though, corruption kink (?), explicit language

word count: 1,285

author’s note: this was supposed to be a headcanon, but it turned into a drabble real quick. i’ve been wanting to try writing something different though, so if you have any nsfw bucky thots or opinions, please do not hesitate to send an ask!

.•° ✿ °•. he’s a tad confused when you first join the team, clad in a pink crop top and a denim mini skirt. Steve doesn’t speak of the concern that swallows the space while you reapply lipgloss before freshly manicured fingers drum against the wooden desk in the conference room.

✧.* “hi,” you giggle, “i’m y/n,” and it’s then that James decides you’re just too cute and too oblivious to be perceived as a threat, gazing at him through doe eyes. you're so much different than anyone else on the team, gleaming with happiness and innocence, and James almost wants to corrupt you.

.•° ✿ °•. “hi, pretty girl,” he answers with a smile, “i’m Bucky.”

✧.* Maria Hill orders everyone to find a seat, so she could go through your file and inform the other avengers of the newest member’s abilities, but the soldier cannot focus, catching your wandering glance every once in a while. heat and desire itch underneath his skin as your eyes run across his firm shoulders and biceps, lingering on the metal arm before your stare finds his face again, and you offer him a sweet grin. he’s done for, Bucky realizes — he’d protect you with his life if it came down to it.

.•° ✿ °•. it’s a couple days later when James comes to Steve with a proposal, suggesting he should be the one to train you as the captain has far too many responsibilities. Steve agrees, too lost in the pile of documents to notice Bucky’s true intentions visibly etched into his facial expression.

✧.* you make it almost impossible for the soldier to focus during sparring, giggling and gasping, and whining when he manhandles you into different positions. it’s wrong, he understands, to make you accidentally straddle him time and time again, but he stops caring because you don’t seem to mind, grasping onto his muscled biceps for balance.

•° ✿ °•. “you lost again, peach.” Bucky chuckles, clutching your thighs to lift the two of you into a standing position. his hands come to rest under your butt while your arms latch around his neck as a plea for him to hold you a bit longer. mmmh, you hum with a sly smile, and Bucky’s taken aback slightly. he searches your face for an emotion he hasn’t yet decided upon, but it’s as warm and as charming as always, “sweets,” he leans in, “have you been letting me win on purpose?”

✧.* a giggle slips past your lips at his comment, “maybe,” you admit, but James cannot find it in himself to be mad because you’ve been letting him twist your body into outrageous positions for the past several weeks on purpose, whining in frustration—or pleasure—when his rough hands would handle your flesh. “i’m a witch,” you remind, pushing a piece of hair that’s stuck to his glistening forehead aside, “i could’ve used my magic on you, but i like it when you touch me.”

.•° ✿ °•. the ocean’s still for a while as Natasha begins taking you on missions. James continues to train you at hand-to-hand combat, though, and much to his satisfaction, you’re not only the most attractive student he’s ever had, but one of the best, quickly learning to fight without magic.

✧.* the swift glances and soft touches you often pay him outside the comfort of the gym’s walls bring the most delicious of pain and pleasure. he’s one of many you pay attention to, and it suffocates him, the sight of you acting so naive and sweet around other agents drowns him. but i like it when you touch me, James reminisces night after night, and so touch James does because how else would he know if you truly desire him.

.•° ✿ °•. you’re making coffee one morning when you feel him press into your behind to reach for a mug in the cupboard. the action is harmless, you think, and shift to smile at him as a good morning. he returns the gesture, bucking his hips into the plush of your ass before hastily retreating.

✧.* in your mind, the next few incidents are just as innocent. Bucky’s a righteous man, who’s only trying to be friendly to a newcomer, right? he must be because he pulls you into his lap during the compound’s movie nights when the sofa lacks space or holds the dip of your back to lead you through a crowd of people. James even offered to do your laundry, neatly folding tiny clothes into organized piles, including brightly colored panties. you noticed your favorite thong was missing from the stack of clothing he returned but stayed silent, grateful Bucky helped you in the first place.

.•° ✿ °•. it’s several months later when James decides he’s had enough. the team is hanging out at a nearby dive bar, indulging in countless dirt-cheap cocktails and heated rounds of pool. you’re standing beside Steve as you attempt to strike the cue ball, the cue stick gliding right above it. the frustration is evident in your face, eyebrows all scrunched up, wrinkling your pretty features. lacy panties peek out from under your skirt when you bend down, and James can feel his jeans tightening. lately, leggings and suits Tony designed with your specific kind of magic in mind have been the core of your attire, but it’s friday, and the night’s supposed to be fun, so you’re back to low-cut tops and barely there denim.

✧.* “shit,” you curse. the word is foreign to Bucky’s ears when it comes from your plump lips, and he abandons the conversation with Sam to come stand behind you. he places his hands on the cushions, caging you between his body and the table. pouting, you turn around to glance at him, “the stupid stick won’t hit the stupid ball,” you whine, unintentionally squirming against his hard length.

•° ✿ °•. “let me help you, peach,” James chuckles, holding your arms in his hands. he maneuvers you into the right position, helping you strike the ball. The cue ball strikes a purple neighboring sphere, and it rolls into one of the pockets. swiftly, you turn around to wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck, slightly jumping up and down from the happiness of a successful shot. “good job, sweets!” James celebrates with you, but it ends early when his metal arm detaches you from his body, clutching your waist to twist you, so that your back is against his chest again. “do that without my help this time.”

✧.* you comply as he takes a step back, but your focus is soon blurred when his nimble fingers caress the skin of your exposed thighs. James is so close, you can feel the warmth radiating off him, and he shifts to shield his wandering hands from unsuspecting gazes. leaning down, “focus” he murmurs into your neck before his fingers drift higher, nearing your core. it clenches around nothing, and James seems to notice, chuckling before he withdraws his touch to correct your form. “lower,” he instructs, pushing down on the dip of your back, “this hand should be further away from the cue ball,” Bucky informs, but you’re putty in his hands.

.•° ✿ °•. he retracts, allowing you to concentrate. the sphere misses a colored ball, striking the rail, and stops. “i missed,” you pout again and shove the cue into his hands, “i’ma get a drink.”

✧.* "how about i come with you," a slight smirk dances on his lips as he drops the stick into Tony's lap. his hand slithers to rest on the dip of your waist, and he pulls you into his body. you only giggle at his antics, the sound of it syrupy and genuine.

.•° ✿ °•. “alright, Buck,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes, and James swears he's going to completely corrupt you one day.

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky x bimbo!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x bimbo!reader #bucky barnes x bimbo!reader smut #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader drabble #bucky x reader headcanon #bucky headcanon #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky x female reader

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sonnetsoncanvas · 1 year

Text

Mess it up (Masterlist)

Summary: Years ago he had let you go for your own good. But this time around, he isn’t sure he can.

Pairing: brother’s best friend rock star Bucky x fem reader (Steve’s sister) (dual pov) reverse grumpy c sunshine

Warnings: modern AU, angst, second chance, eventual smut, brothers best friend trope, implied cheating, self-deprecation, happy ending?

Inspired by: Mess it up by Gracie Abrams

Status: completed

This is the first time a fic has made its way from my laptop to the internet. So please be kind and do leave your feedback. Happy reading!

Chapter 1 : How could I think that all that I gave you was enough?

Chapter 2: Every time I get too close, I just go mess it up.

Chapter 3: I keep thinking maybe if you let me back in.

Chapter 4: We can make it better, breaking every habit. (Smut)

Chapter 5: Pull myself together, you could watch it happen.

Chapter 6: Let it happen, let it happen. (Smut)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky headcanon #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #steve and bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barns #bucky fluff #fanfic #avengers fandom #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan character

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beecanons · 7 months

Note

better yet Loki or Bucky (marvel) with autism reader :3333

loki and bucky with an autistic reader!

loki~

doesnt fully understand it at first but once you explain a little about neurodivergences he catches on and will probably make a comparison to something from asgard

does all the research on it, learns what midgard knows about this and gets frustrated with the history of mistreatment and such.

has no shame in admitting he's learning about it just for you. but will ask you dont go around telling people about this side of him, especially dont mention it to thor or he'll never hear the end of it.

very observant of your behaviours, stims, sensitivities and preferences.

"dont pick that one, love, it has a texture you dislike" "..i warned you"

he will do whatever he can to help you with a meltdown, he has outlets for his own anger so hes more than ready to help you find outlets to avoid hurting yourself.

you spend hours talking, especially about interests. he's happy to have someone to talk with and listen to him and is more than happy to listen to you rant and ramble about your special interests

will summon a stim or texture object for you to fidget with if you need.

need to sit in a quiet place and de-stim? he'll find a dimly lt corner and sit with you, maybe read to you if you'd like.

extremely respectful of boundaries, listens when you struggle and does what he can to help be it communication or otherwise

pays attention to your ques when you need or cant stand physical touch.

if anything makes you insecure he'll compliment you on it or avoid comments on it if you prefer.

Bucky~

a little slow with wrapping his head around it, came from a time where there was a lot of stigma around high support needs autistic folk so he might have some things to unlearn and a lot of new stuff to learn.

tries his best to memorise your sensitivities and preferences but will mix a few things up.

off handedly remembers a lot of details you dont expect him to catch onto, especially when it comes to how you communicate.

will come up with nicknames based on comparing your behaviours he finds cute with certain animals who have the same behaviours.

if you like organizing things hes a mess and never remembers where you put things and has to ask every time because hes used to chaotic order.

picks up on your stims and even starts doing a few himself without realizing.

"hey, fruit bat, where'd the keys go?" "...obviously by the door, right"

loves going to the movies with you but makes sure you get a good seat in the back not too close to the speakers or too close/far from the screen so you arent over stimulated.

stops wearing cologne because youre sensitive to scents and he doesnt want to give you a headache

need something cold/smooth to calm down/relax? you can hold onto his metal arm

isnt sure how to handle your meltdowns but does what he can to help you, breaths with you if you need it maybe even has you rest your head on his chest to help you calm down when its over.

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vilentia · 1 year

Text

If the Winter Soldier had a soft spot for you

At first, the Winter Soldier is distant and cold towards you, as he is still struggling with the effects of his brainwashing.

However, as he spends more time around you, he begins to notice your compassion and kindness towards others.

You remind him of someone from his past who had a similar gentle spirit, and he feels drawn to you.

The Winter Soldier starts to seek out your company, finding comfort in your presence.

You are patient with the Winter Soldier, never pushing him to talk about his past, but always willing to listen if he wants to share.

As your relationship grows, the Winter Soldier begins to open up more and more about his past and the things he's done.

You listen without judgment, offering support and understanding instead.

The Winter Soldier starts to feel a sense of peace and safety around you, something he hasn't felt in a long time.

He starts to have more moments of clarity, remembering things about his past that were previously buried.

You become his anchor, reminding him of who he was before he became the Winter Soldier.

The Winter Soldier becomes fiercely protective of you, always keeping an eye out for any potential danger.

He doesn't like to see you upset or hurt, and will do anything to make you feel better.

The Winter Soldier starts to find joy in little things, like making you laugh or cooking you a meal.

He still struggles with his trauma, but your love and acceptance help him to move forward.

The Winter Soldier knows that he may never fully recover from his past, but with you by his side, he feels like he can face anything.

#bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky headcanon #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier headcanon

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nexusnyx · 1 year

Text

s.w.a.l.k.

40s!bucky barnes x f!reader; [3.4k] summary: No one at his battalion knows about her, but they all see Sgt. Barnes writing the letters. Everyone wonders what does he have to say—how can so many words fit in him when he has so few to spare most of the time, but at the end of the day, all that matters is that when he receives his replies, Barnes looks happy. Glowing. 📝: this was based on this post. if you like it, reblogs and comments make all the difference. talk to me about it and i’ll adore ya. 🏷️: established relationship, letters, angst, longing.

masterlist | series masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤJune, 1943.

If there was one thing Bucky learned during his first weeks on duty, it was how to write.

Who would've thought?

Not Steve, that's for sure. As a matter of fact, Steve's first letter replying to Bucky involved the words 'damn Buck, didn't even know you could write' and while that was hilarious — like, really, very funny, Stevie, you're oh, so hilarious, Bucky wrote back — it was nothing compared to the gift he received from you.

The first letter you sent back to him proved to him why it was important that he wrote. It was crucial that Bucky learned how to verbalize all those feelings and thoughts pent up inside his mind because here, stuck between trenches, men, gunpowder, and the smell of death, he learned the truth about how ephemeral and fragile everything was.

Bucky needed you to know that amongst the rocky current of the waters of life, you were a lifeline.

His sweetheart.

+++++++ +++++++

The first time he wrote, it was short, objective, but sweet.

You'd been his girl for five months before he was shipped out, and Bucky had never been head over heels before.

The unfairness of it all didn't go unregistered.

Of course Bucky would find the one person he wanted to spend all of his time with just before everything everywhere went to shit. Of course he'd find the gal who he enjoys talking to for hours, with no end in sight—the girl who not only can keep up with him but makes him speed up sometimes to catch up. The girl who likes Steve.

(That one had been a big one. Nothing turned Bucky off more than when one of his dates met his best friend and treated him like dirt underneath their shoe, or grimaced, or sighed as if talking to Steve was a chore they had to put up with in order to be on his good side.

Not you.

Bucky introduced you to Steve, went to get a drink, and came back to the two of you laughing like you'd been best friends since childhood. He'd been so fucking happy to see Steve getting along with a girl of his that for a moment, he'd forgot you were his girl.

Between the two of them, you were not just his date. Those last few months, whenever Bucky left the docks to meet you or after he picked up Steve from the mass and the art classes he taught the children, they went to your neighborhood to share a beer and talk to you. All three, together.

Good friends.

Bucky had, many times, joked that you and Steve were an item on your own—the nerdy duo, the smarty pants, the firecrackers. If Steve alone was trouble, Bucky was now damned because his dame was trouble too, and she took none of it home. No—when trouble knocked on your door or his, you faced it with your chin held up high and your hands ready to throw fists.

He'd seen it first hand; the day someone called Steve a fairy and you became part woman, part beast.

That's when he knew he was in love.

That was also a couple of weeks before he was shipped off.)

Regardless of how everything was just not right, Bucky tried seeing the good amidst the bad.

You had asked — no, demanded — he wrote to you as soon as he had a pen and paper in hand, and Bucky could only obey.

The first time was tentative. Fragile, and uncertain.

The letter had been small, and filled with apologies, words scratched out at the last minute, not even a full page long. What could he say? He didn't want to fill your days with the gloom and darkness that loomed over the battalion.

Then, your reply arrived, and Bucky's feelings grew roots inside of him.

Like vines that catch on a wall and become something alive; his ribcages were now filled with words of yours, and they grew, green and vast, as quick as weed, and watered by the memories of you alone.

When he opened the first letter and read the words,

to my Bucky,

he knew there was no turning back.

It must've been the first paragraph that did him in.

The way you spoke to him through paper was so similar to the way you spoke in person that for a few moments, just for a few precious minutes, Bucky could swear you were sitting right next to him, talking in his ear.

Call him crazy or not, but in the breeze, Bucky sensed your warmth. Your perfume.

He knew that was impossible—uncountable miles separated you two, and it was cold in there, colder than he expected.

Nothing but the smell of men, dirty mud and metal hung in the air, but—

he sensed it.

The words carried you in them:

ㅤㅤㅤto my Bucky,

You wrote! Thank you, thank you, thank you. Threefold I thank, so that three times the words come back. Good gods, how I missed you, Jay. I miss you in the mornings, and I miss seeing your frame walking out of the docks coming my way—call me crazy if you want to, but even the smell of your body when you hugged me just to make me yell in spite because the stickiness would cling to my clothes; I miss all of that, too. Don't you dare hold back anything that crosses your mind, ya hear me? I wanna know it all. I don't give a damn if it's ugly, if it's red, if it's horrible and nothing that you would one day say to a dame—I'm yours, James, and nothing about this world is okay or right anymore, so don't you dare hold back the things you'd want me to know. I'm here to listen to everything you're willing to tell me, the same way I'm about to spill my guts about these days here without you, as if you were here sitting on the edge of my bed and not many miles away, somewhere I don't even know, surrounded by people I'm not sure are being good to you like they should.

He read that paragraph so many fucking times that he remembered the words by heart.

'I don't give a damn if it's ugly, if it's red, if it's horrible.'

How had he found you?

He hugged the paper that day.

With eyes searching sideways to see if anyone was paying close attention to him and his silliness, Bucky sniffed the paper and was gifted with a surprise—there was the lingering scent of your perfume there.

That day, he learned the mistake of hugging a letter so close to your heart, where he wished he could keep it: his tears would stain the words, and his longing for you in his arms instead of a piece of paper would make the thing crease, which is the last thing he wanted.

He later found a good metal box, and that's where he decided he would keep your letters.

With a sticker seal from Brooklyn on the lid, Bucky secured the box within his possessions and picked up a pen and paper.

He'd tell you everything. Not because he had much to say or because he was letting the dark thoughts creep around the corners of his mind, but because he wanted to.

If it came out a little woozy, it was alright.

You understood him even when he didn't understand himself.

ㅤㅤㅤMy sweetheart,

I'm a fool for thinking I'd have no words to say to you. Ever since I got your letter, I feel like I should be walking around with a pen and paper with me at all times, 'cause all I wanna do is tell you all the stupid and important things that happen around here.

The words I'll probably use the most and that you'll see in every letter, I should leave out in the open right at first: I miss you. Goddamn it, I do. I didn't know I could miss someone this much—maybe Steve, 'cause I'm used to having him by my side, and my family, but other than that, I only hoped. And now I do. I'm gonna say this many more times, but I can't wait for all of this to be over so I can not miss you.

Speaking of my ma and the girls—have you found the address I gave you easily? I hope you did. I told Ma in my letter that she should be expecting a visit from someone important to me soon, and that I was devastated that I had to be fucking here instead of there in a moment like this, but I want her to have someone intelligent and important to talk to when I'm here. The girls are young. Kids. These are times too dark for children, and you're exactly the type of gal Ma would hope I brought home—does it count if I'm bringing you home, but from afar? Sending you home. I like the sound of that.

I met a couple of cool guys around here. I'm keeping this paper with me to tell you about their stupid ass jokes, but most of them are too dirty. Don't frown at me—I'm not keeping anything from you, sweetheart, they're just crude and stupid. The shit that man says, y'know? You'd roll your eyes at most of them. I smile to myself every time I think about that.

The Lt. around here told me he likes the way I work. Apparently my aim's good not only in the kitchen flippin' pancakes or throwing darts to impress ya. I'm good with a rifle. I dunno if you wanna know about these gritty details too — tell me to shut the hell up like you always did if not — but since you told me to loosen my tongue, I'm telling you that: I'm a sniper. That means I'm usually in the shadows with my eyes squinting in the direction of the enemy, just looking for a breach. I do my job well. Apparently, they're thinking of upping my rank. I also don't know how to feel about that, but one of the guys here — one of the cool ones, don't worry sweetheart, I'm not hanging around the 'bad influences' (and I write this thinking of you and Steve with your judging ass looks, just so you know) — his name's Morita, and he said that when the battalion is formed and everyone has their Sargeant, we can go back home for a weekend before we're shipped off somewhere else.

A lot of shit is 'classified'.

I know. I can hear you snorting, rolling your eyes. Ya hear that, beautiful? I'll be telling you a lot of 'classified' shit. Tell no one, 'cause I don't know how much they know or not.

Do they have ears and eyes everywhere? Probably. I get the sense they do. Everything you learn, pretend you don't. If Ma asks you something that you know and she doesn't, put on that pretty face of yours that fools Mr. Hirako from the store into giving you any information and tell her "ah, Miss Winnie" (I bet she'll ask you to call her that, she's gonna fuckin' love ya) "I don't know, but we should always pray for the best, right?" She'll buy it, 'cause most people buy anything you say. All they see is that angel face.

I adore that angel face so much. I wish you could fool the entire world into being less idiotic and behave like grown people who can solve their shit with words instead of using something so animalistic like these weapons.

Around here all I think about is our late-night conversations about humanity. I hope you're studying a lot, 'cause one day, you're gonna make this world a little better. 'm not sure where I stand on hopes for the future or not, but if this war ends, there might be some.

Ah! I learned something fun today by overhearing one of the conversations: apparently, when soldiers have someone to write to, they use special little acronyms. Like a secret, y'know? I'll be teaching you the ones I learn, 'kay? You're my special agent, now. You tell me all the info you got on the people over there, I tell you everything I know from the people over here, and together, we keep each other sane.

I'll be finishing this one off with Sealing With A Lot of Kisses. Do you miss my kisses? 'Cause I sure miss yours.

I know not every letter's gonna be light and fun like this one, but I hold your first letter close to my chest every night. It reminds me that you're the one who makes things shine for me. There at home, and here in the darkness, too.

It's dark in here, sweetheart.

I learned to close my eyes and think about the starry sky we loved looking at when we were on our dates at the fair, or walking home late at night. Remember the cinema walks with Stevie and I? That's where I go to when it's too dark, too stinky, too ugly. The things people say around here make the hair on the back of my neck rise, sometimes. Talks of experiments, and the messed up from from over there using humans in all sorts of shit... I'm glad that only men are stupid enough to think that fighting to the death is a solution. I'd hate to see you walking around here more than I hate seeing the sight of blood or still bodies. You don't belong here. I think no one does.

Please, can you do me a favor? Send me another picture of yours? I only have one. I can't risk losing this one and not having another picture of you to stare at. If you leave me with nothing but my fellas' ugly mugs to stare at, I'm gonna have to come back disowned.

I hear a lot of talk around the camp about shipping, so I'll leave you for now. I hope my words find you at peace, and that they bring you some comfort. I carried the papers with me everywhere so they musn't smell nice, but at least it smells like me. I'm sorry if my scent is different now. If it's bad, lemme know. I liked the thing you did with the perfume. My box smells of you. I open it only once a day, to make sure it doesn't go to waste. It's keepin' me sane, and it puts a smile on my face every time I get a whiff of it.

With a lot of adoration in my heart, goodbye for now, sweetheart;

S.W.A.L.K.

yours, J.B.B.

"Congratulations."

It says a lot about how much Bucky pays attention to the folk around here that he recognizes the voice of Morita. He looks up and is met with black hair and slim eyes. "Thanks, Jim."

Morita points at the log that Bucky's sitting on. "Mind if I join ya?"

"Not at all."

"Thanks." Morita sits with a grunt. Everyone around the base is tired—living on the edge with the minimum only makes a human being gruff and annoyed, but Morita still has that aura of someone whose head is right on their shoulders. "I was terrified there for a moment."

"Of what?"

"That they'd make me Sargeant."

Bucky chuckles. "With that aim of yours? Nah."

"Not my thing, Sarge. But I already told the Lt. that I wanna be under your watch. My aim might not be the best, but I've seen yours."

"Have ya?"

"Sure did. I'm good with explosives, though. If you need someone to blow some shit up, I'm your guy."

Bucky puts down his rifle, glad about the cleaning job, and shifts his focus to Jim. "I'll definitely remember that."

"Good, good." The silence that stretches for the next moments proves to Bucky what he already knew—Morita's one of the good folk. He rolls a tobacco, lights it up, and offers it to Bucky.

'Those things smell nasty, Buck. Put that shit out.'

'Oh, c'mon, sweetheart. It makes me light and loose.'

'It'll also make your gums black, your teeth yellow, and your breath stinky. D'you want me to kiss you forever?'

'That shouldn't even be a question'.

'Then lose that.'

He loves when things spark a memory of yours. Bucky shakes his head with a smile on. "Nasty things. Thanks, Jim."

Morita smokes a few puffs with his eyes glued on Bucky, who feels watched and analyzed.

"Who told ya to quit?" Morita asks through clouds of smoke.

Unlike most people, his questions don't come lidded with annoying prodding. Morita's older than Bucky—at least five, or maybe ten years on him, and Bucky liked his presence from the get-go because it was always like this; easy conversation without that feeling of someone snooping around in your life with nothing to offer back. "No one told me to quit, specifically..."

"But they told ya it was nasty, hm?"

Bucky chuckles. "It is a nasty habit."

"Can't argue with that."

They sit in silence as the cigarette's tip burns orange every now and then. The sky is the only thing they have to watch, and Bucky relaxes his back against the three.

Eventually, Morita speaks up again. "You think we're going somewhere cold? Hot?"

Something tells Bucky it'll be cold. He shivers at the feeling that sweeps through him like an omen. "I wanna say hot. My body says cold."

"Ah, fuck me." Morita stubs the tip on his boots' sole, and rests his back on the tree too with a big sigh. "If there ain't a single opportunity to drink 'till the cold is forgotten, 'm gonna find a way to blow that mustache motherfucker myself."

That makes Bucky laugh. "I wouldn't say no to that." I wanna go home. "Blow all of 'em up and we'll go home faster."

"Fuck, I wanna go home," the whisper is so soft that Bucky looks to the side, and finds Morita looking at him. "You ever thought we'd have to live through this bullshit?"

"Never."

"Me neither." Morita looks up at the sky. "My partner says humanity's clinging to the wrong shit and that's why we're losing our way."

Bucky heard Steve and his friends for long enough to recognize a cue when he sees one, and answers with, "They sound smart," before sighing deeply. "Mine says it was the break between the idea of 'technology' and separating that from nature that fucked us up."

It's the first time he talks about you with someone, and he feels that the information is stored safely.

"They sound smart, too," says Morita. "D'you think we'll get to go home for a bit?"

That's what they were told, but Bucky's learning not to trust people's words too much. "It's what they told us. I've been told not to trust bosses too much, though."

"Your partner said that?"

"Yup. She claims everyone who's in charge of others lies to some degree."

Morita's laugh is loud, and nasally. Bucky fucking adores it. "As someone with two kids, she sure knows what she's talking about."

"You lie to your kids a lot?"

Morita cackles. "Sarge—wait 'till you and your babe have kids, and then we'll exchange letters. There's either lying or losing our minds. Or losing the kid. So lying it is."

"I'll send you letters when it happens to ask for advice."

"I'll spare some for you."

Bucky likes the sound of that. "Tell me about your kids?"

The request is met with a smile, and Bucky forgets all about the wrongs and the dark sitting there with Morita.

In the back of his mind, all he thinks about is telling you all the good bits of this conversation later on.

He'll share everything with you.

And then, when the time comes, he'll come home.

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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Hi may I pls request cuddling with Bucky Barnes headcanons

Cute Bucky needs cute headcanons every now and then doesn't he?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, hurt/comfort, cuddling, neck kissing, touch-starved Bucky

A/N: Still working on a smut fic for him, hopefully will be out soon, I'm sorry to keep everyone waiting.

Bucky is very cat-like when it comes to cuddling with you

When he wants them he will go to you and wrap his arms around you, his head nuzzled close to you and his posture relaxed

But when he's not in the mood he will be a little on the cold side

Never think that this is because he doesn't want to touch you or be touched by you, he's just been very devoid of any genuine affection and warmth of this intimate kind for a while

He's had relationship but they were mostly physical, a release

With you he wants the emotion intimacy, he wants to remember every touch, every kiss, how your face looked when it laid across his chest and he ran his hands up and down your back

His favorite cuddles are in the middle of the afternoon when he gets back from a workout and he finds you on the couch, waiting for him

He gets the softest smile on his face when you see him and nod at him to come closer into his arms

With his whole body he melts into you, careful not to touch you with his metal arm if its too cold

He likes to wrap you both in a blanket so you're warm and toasty

His heart skips a few beats when when you kiss his neck and you can feel his whole body shiver at the show of love and affection from you

Could fall asleep like that if he didn't know you'd both wake up with your bodies hurting

Of course he has the solution, which is to carry you, and the blanket into bed and resume your cuddling session

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #mcu x reader #marvel mcu #mcu fluff #mcu imagine #mcu headcanons #marvel headcanons #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #bucky imagine #bucky headcanon #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #x reader

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samodivaa · 7 months

Text

┊Impure Thoughts┊2

《Part 1┊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, fingering, fisting, oral (f receiving)

Words - 2250

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Every secret of your mind is rendered up—from this new and intimate perspective, you have no choice, but to speak

“Lust,” you keep your voice pitched low “Lust is a deadly sin”

“And fucking yourself with my arm” His lips twitch, almost imperceptibly.

“I think that falls under lust” you whisper, sultry.

You catch yourself staring at the sensual curve of his lips, the impressive cut of his jaw, devouring every part of him with eyes.

“I think it should have its own category” he responds sweetly, allowing a shade of mockery to infect his tone.

He is looking at you with amused suspicion—you have to acknowledge this tame remark about the whole situation sounds way too perverse. You try to remain cordial and calm. You don’t want to give him the impression you are overbearing in fear he would judge you.

“Bucky-”

His jacket then goes to the floor, followed by his trousers, shirt until he is only in his boxers. His eyes dart over the surface of your face, exploring you from a distance with his unspoken desire and an innocent and mesmerizing smile.

“Jesus, snezinka…you are so filthy”(snowflake)

you hear a mute moan of human tenderness— his soul actually hanging around your naked body and is ready to repent. There is a pleasant sinking sensation in Bucky’s stomach as he contemplates how deliciously it would be to do it himself.

Your eyes widen at his choice of words and, much to your shock, you find that you love his dirty talk.

You are on your back—legs spread—the metal fingers still in you.

A little bit of kink is one of the most delicious of erotic pleasures

He stumbles forward to the bed and your body suddenly surges with the heat of concentrated humiliation—you feel disgusted—tired of the lust, but it's so hard to refuse it now.

He doesn’t speak, his expression doesn’t soften. But he is hard.

“The scent of your arousal is so-so sweet”

He speaks and you have a difficult time tearing your gaze away from his pelvis to meet his eyes.

His blue eyes almost glow, his voice lowered, husky. The scent of you, the scent of—pure filth.

Those scents lay around Bucky now, tempting him, drawing him.

Your thighs tighten, legs tremble at the sight of him coming closer to the bed. You hear him swear under his breath and reach down to squeeze tightly the imprint of his cock through the boxers—he senses your gaze now as he grips his cock over the fabric, the friction is absolutely delicious.

“Keep them open, it is too late for shame, baby”

He has never before felt so overwhelmed—nor experienced such appetite—such impatience for the night to begin.

He licks his lips, panting hard as you spread your legs further, his eyes barely glancing over the moisture glazed flesh.

He groans, the thought of his head between those silky thighs, his tongue lapping the sweet moisture that produced that intriguing scent is nearly more than he could bear.

Bucky licks his lips and bits back an oath.

When he climbs onto the bed, the bed cracking under his weight—as he crawls towards you—you close your eyes, take a deliberate deep inhale through your nose, hold it for a few seconds before forcing the trapped air out through pursed lips, attempting to calm down your accelerating heart rate.

And an affliction more than describes it.

Your feet fevered, skin sensitive, ready for his touch. It is unlike anything you have ever experienced. It is unlike anything you ever wanted to know, feel.

Bucky touches the back of your thigh, fingers grazing lightly down to the back of your knee, grasping it and lifting your leg carefully over his shoulder.

Through the fog of dizzying pleasure you open your eyes—a hitch of breath when his fingers slip in and out of you really quickly

—this bastard has reattached his arm.

He observes your face; your eyelids have dropped low over your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth. He squeezes your thigh, keeping your leg over his shoulder, his thumb gently tracing your skin and another low sigh leaves you.

You feel him withdrawing his fingers from your dripping centre. Then, one finger traces down your slit and starts to play with your tight rosebud.

You shudder from the pleasure that he is giving you. Feeling the pressure building up—your breathing becomes more labored. He keeps circling his finger in just the way that you love it and you can feel the beginning of the orgasm, when he pulls away.

Your gazes meet, he can see your eyes beseeching him to give you the release that you urgently needed.

“No, this is not what you have planned”

There is no fulfillment that is not made sweeter for the prolonging of desire

Two fingers glisten with the frothy cream of your body. After swishing his saliva around, he manages to clear his palate enough before bringing the fingers to his lips and sucking them slowly, his mouth watering from the irresistible tangy, almost metallic taste

—he has never tasted vibranium before.

You whimper as he takes them into his mouth, his eyes darkening on a sigh of both ecstasy and sin as he tastes you on his own fingers. His lashes lowered, becoming heavy with sexuality, his face is tense, tight with the needs that surges through his body as well.

“You always taste good—even better like that”

Bucky smiles, the curve of his lips tight.

He says as he runs the metal index finger along your slit, gathering some of the arousal, then circling it around your clit before dipping the digit insidе. Slowly he pumps, sending your hips bucking under his hand.

He adds another finger into her tightness and you mewls.

“Oh yes” The shocking words erupting from your mouth do little to dim the haze of need for more “Please. Oh please—” you are making little gasping sounds, Bucky looks down to watch his whole fist sinking in slowly, but surely.

“What the…how…” he murmurs.

The anticipation and confusion he feels at seeing his hand disappearing into you, also a kind of sensual pleasure, and surrounding it, like an embrace, a general elation—it is terribly inconvenient, no good might come of it, but he finds out for himself that he enjoys it, and it thrills him.

Your eyes lit up in glee, seeing his grimace of pleasure, the raw lust that transforms his face—as you finally get what you wanted.

Since he has done that for you, you suppose it was only fair that he wants it too.

“Fuck...please” you struggle to get out, overcome by what he has just done.

“Need to suck your tits”

He says, removing your leg from his shoulder, he leans downward to press a small kiss to the side of your neck and you gasp, head arching back as that rough, rasping tongue strokes over your neck. Slowly, he places open mouthed kisses up the of your neck, letting his tongue slip out occasionally to taste your skin.

His breathing increases in pace, coming out in a deep and fast rhythm, as he kisses his way across your throat to give the other side of the neck the same treatment and he registers that you have upped the volume as well, with quiet moans accompanying your sighs.

Oh, this will be so good.

Real good.

Hot, with a gentle abrasion that has you panting as he moves slowly to your breasts. He lavishes your tits with attention, his lips nibbling sporadically, which only adds to the arousal coursing through your veins.

The satisfaction of hearing your ardor-filled voice uttering his name with such need is indescribable. It fills him with such yearning that he could barely contain himself.

His cock aches to escape and fuck you—but is all about you tonight.

Bucky can only sigh, grinding a bit into the air, he makes himself elicit a growl against your skin in response, scraping his teeth lightly over the nipple. He groans, fisting into you harder now, hitting your cervix as your eyes, water up at the sensation of being so stuffed as he gives you more and more—him hand fucking you like that flips your brain inside out and turns your cunt to pudding.

You are mindless now. You can feel the sensations building—everywhere.

The wet squelches of your pussy make it clear that you are incredibly turned on. Bucky plays with your body expertly and if he keeps going you are going to come apart all over his hand. Your breathing speeds up and becomes ragged, broken moans interspersed between the gasps for air.

He meets your eyes as he pulls back and thrust his hand into you again. You are just blinking up at him, eyes wide as he bites his lip, trying to maintain a steady pace instead of pounding into you the way he wants.

Of course, you notice his reluctance—you shamelessly whisper—

“Faster”

“Tell me if it hunts, baby” he slurs the words as if inebriated.

He speeds up his pace, he’s panting, because he wants to fuck you so much—he feels the build of pleasure low in his abdomen as he slams his hand into you, the cool heat of your orgasm builds with each thrust—you clenching around him—shuddering against him.

It is not the easiest for the pace but the feeling of both your cunt getting filled by his metal hand and his mouth on your nipple have you coming, screaming out—his hand having slowed down to extend your pleasure—he feels you clench your inner muscles hard and your whole body starts to seize up, as the orgasm washes over. Lost to your pleasure, you ramble nonsensically; a combination of his name, pleas for more and thanking him for doing this.

He slowly removes his fingers from your cunt, giving the clit a small caress before raising his hand to lick off your slick.

“Different—” you try to catch your breath.

Shame is a soul eating emotion

“—different position”

Why drown in shame when you can have so much fun swimming in lust?

Oh, sweet fucking Jesus—Bucky wants to say, but stays wordless.

You are not ashamed of your needs—it overlays his heart with lust, too.

He immediately understands you and moves you like a rag doll—he maneuvers your legs so that you end up straddling him, your cunt is right over his head.

Bucky’s tongue rasps through the slit of your lips from bottom to top. You buck against him, greedily using his mouth and nose for your pleasure, compressing his face underneath your weight.

Slow, erotically rough and so hot you feel your flesh melting. His human hand grips your thigh, holding you down to his mouth—he slips his metal fingers inside of you, twisting and curling as he tirelessly works.

“Mmmm” his low moans of pleasure vibrates against your clit. You gasp for breath as he licks you, his tongue swirling around, gathering more and more of the taste as he groans in satisfaction merely from being suffocated, used—your enthusiasm, hoping the vibrations would likewise be your undoing.

Those sweet lips. Oh my, he could kiss those lips all night long.

He smiles mentally and continues the pleasurable torture, not playing on stopping until you finish. Bucky has to consciously remind both his hand and mouth to keep moving, concentrating the movements—your melodic sounds are way so distracting to his mind.

He raises his head for the last time and licks up the delicious slit, savoring the flavor, before focusing on your pleasure bud once again, his whole fuckin hand in your depths, fisting you, making you clench around the metal, your orgasm building.

Arousal is more potent than any drug on the planet as Bucky drowns, drinks you in as you start to tremble—endearing that you want to finish so badly, breasts sway as you choke, rapidly approaching your orgasm.

You cry out as tremors take hold of you, her body jerking and nearly slithering away—but the flesh fingers have you locked, his arm around your thigh, holding you in place. He keeps going until he can’t breathe anymore—you’ve managed to nudge him into the mattress, but he doesn't mind—he doesn’t mind at all.

He lets go of you and you tumble to his side. Bucky can’t help but grin as he turns his head to face you—his sultry lips and seductive—covered in your wetness.

Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own. All Bucky wants is for you to feel good—you are, and always have been, his dream.

“Bucky?” you ask against your better judgment. “How do you—do you want me—“ you clear your throat. “Do you want to fuck me or—something else?”

You are confused and you are trying to catch your breath when you hear a dark chuckle—you meet his eyes then, all wide pupils and rich blue irises.

Darker than you’ve seen before

“Do you think that my dick will be enough after all that?” he asks, quietly.

“What about your dick and your hand in my—” you manage to whimper.

Bucky is amused. Or speechless. Maybe something in between there.

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Fics like that arrive all the same. And now it's here. Or should I say, I AM >:)

Tag list :

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#metal arm kink fr #TIME TO SIN AGAIN #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanficion #bucky imagine #bucky headcanon #bucky fanfic

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mrsmariebarnes · 10 months

Text

• bucky barnes has known sacrifice. he's tasted it in the bitter winters of his past, carried it in the metal weight of his arm, seen it in the harsh truth of his reflection. a man out of time, a soldier built for war, he's given himself — his very essence — to a world that's demanded everything from him.

• he knows the stories, the narratives spun by the world, that the morally righteous thing to do is to lay oneself bare for the many. that's the narrative he'd once lived — offering himself up as a sacrifice for his country, for people he'd never know.

• but being the winter soldier, that chapter of his life that he struggles every day to reconcile with, it's shown him the world in its raw, unfiltered cruelty. it’s a world that had taken him and shaped him into something he never wanted to be.

• it’s a world that had tried to strip him of his humanity, his capacity for love, for gentleness. but it’s you who had brought him back, you who taught him that there was still beauty to be found amidst the broken pieces.

• there's something relentless in your love, something that can mend the most shattered parts of him, something that gives him a reason to believe in more than just survival. it's not about the good of many anymore, not when he has you by his side, your love painting colors onto his grayscale world.

• you are his world, his everything. you’re the warmth in his frostbitten world, the peace in his turbulent existence. the world may crumble, the stars may fall, but as long as he has you, bucky barnes will always have something to fight for. something — someone — worth every sacrifice.

• if he had to choose, he'd choose you. for once, the world can save itself.

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ravenromanova · 7 months

Text

What dating them would be like:

Hi! i just wanted to do this little blurb for what i think it would be like to date Wanda, Bucky or Nat :) I will be posting soon once this cold goes the fuckkkkk away! Anyways i love y’all and i hope you have a good day! ❤️🖤

What dating Bucky would be like ✪:

~ He didn’t admit he had feelings for you til he got drunk one night on Thors asgardian mead. So when he did admit it he was slurring his words and stumbled over his feet. But when he got the words out it was the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

~ Once he was sober the next day he re-said his words to you and properly asked you out with breakfast in bed.

~ He likes when you really aloud stories from the 40’s to him.

~ Loves when you braid or just play with his hair.

~ Always has to be touching you in some way (ie: Holding your hand, His hand on your thigh, Gently brushing against you etc)

~ He takes you in a date night every friday unless he has a mission or vice versa.

~ He is extremely overprotective of you out in public and on missions.

~ Always tends to your wounds before his.

~Impromptu dancing in the living room to 40’s music.

~ Asks you to help him polish his metal arm.

~OBSESSED with your thighs and tits.

~ Has a mommy kink that comes out after a long and hard mission.

~ Loves to confess his love for you whenever he can.

~ Adores your smile and laugh.

~You’re the only one he will listen to on the field.

~ Major dominance kink!

~ Loves calling you endearing nicknames (Doll, Sweetheart, Sugar, Peach, Babydoll, Sweets, Love, Baby, Honey, Princess)

~ Speaks to you in russian even though you don’t understand it.

~ He is the only one ‘allowed’ to train with you other then the girls on the team (a male agent got too close for comfort one time)

~ Helps you through your panic attacks by wrapping you in a blanket and holding you close while whispering words of affirmation in your ear.

~ Buys you little things that make him think of you.

~ Always comes home with flowers for you.

~ When your sick he makes you chicken noodle soup and babies you til you feel better.

~ Takes care of you on your period (runs you a bubble bath, gets you a heating pad, cuddles you etc)

~ Loves dressing up with you for halloween.

What dating Wanda would be like ᗢ:

~ She asked you out after she saw you flirt with Maria hill at one of Tony’s parties. She took you outside and confessed her love for you underneath the moonlight.

~ She loves to watch sitcoms with you and relive her childhood.

~ Tells you stories of her growing up and what life was like in her country.

~ She is always cooking and she makes some of the best things you’ve ever had.

~ Loves to play with your hair while you’re cuddling.

~ Will use her magic to calm you if you’re having a bad day, nightmare etc.

~ Is quick to defend you if you mess up even if it’s your fault.

~ Checks up on you regularly on comms during missions.

~ Calls you nicknames in russian and english all the time.

~ When you’re having a bad day she turns on your favorite movie,gives you hot chocolate and cuddles you til you fall asleep.

~ Takes you on mini dates throughout the week.

~ When your sick she makes you chicken paprikash, Gives you medicine regardless of your protests, Makes you your favorite dessert to cheer you up.

~ Loves to shower you in affection and gifts.

~ Gets really excited when you ask her to decorate for christmas.

~ Bought you a kitten for your six month anniversary just because the kitten was cute.

~ Uses her magic to soothe your cramps on your period along with running you a bath, making your favorite meal and endless cuddles.

~ Tries to convince you to stay in bed all day everyday.

~ Is in love with your boobs (she uses them as a stress reliever)

~ Is a soft dom but when you make her made that’s when she gets really dominant.

~ Asks to do matching couples costumes for halloween.

What dating Natasha would be like ⧗:

~ She asked you out after you got hurt on a mission where you nearly died and told you she couldn’t bear the thought of you dying without knowing how she feels about you.

~ Hated physical touch until she met you.

~ Teaches you russian so you two can have private conversations.

~ Won’t let you go on a mission if she isn’t there just in case you get hurt.

~ Shoots daggers through her eyes if someone gets to close.

~ Extremely protective of you.

~ Got you a german shepherd to help with your mental health.

~ Would rather cuddle and stay in bed then do any work.

~ When you’re having a panic attack she wraps herself around you and plays with your hair while telling you how much she loves you.

~ She loves to be lovey dovey with you at all times which takes everyone off guard all the time.

~ Asks you to show her all your favorite movies even if they are stupid.

~ Treats you like a princess when you’re sick or on your period.

~ Tells you everyday that she plans on marrying you.

~ Takes you on motorcycle rides at night to look at the moon and stars together.

~ Bought an apartment six months after y’all were together so you two could have your own space.

~ Loves cooking for you even though she’s not the best (like at all)

~ Asks you to take ballet lessons with her.

~ MAJOR mommy kink that you found out about after you accidentally called her that and she went feral.

~ Is surprisingly really dominant in bed.

~ Braids your hair for you before missions.

~ Takes you on a date every saturday.

~ Had you meet her other family a year after dating just in case they scared you off.

~ Literally cannot be away from you at all.

~ Thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world and never fails to let you know.

~ Likes to take you hiking in secluded areas so it’s just you two.

~~end~~

Hi babies! I’m so sorry i haven’t actually posted anything in a while. I got hit with major writers block and then i got really sick and i’m still recovering. But i swear i will have the next part of “is it really you?” out soon along with a bunch of other fun stuff! Thank you so much for being so patient with me. I love y’all so much 🖤❤️

Masterlist

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