TESSA THOMPSON attends Off-White's fall 2023 ready-to-wear runway show on March 2, 2023 in Paris
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
$LAYYYTER
Mike Driver
hello vonnie
Keni
trying on a metaphor
Show & Tell
i don't do bad sauce passes
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
taylor price

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

PR's Tumblrdome

Origami Around

Discoholic 🪩

Janaina Medeiros
Jules of Nature
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

Kaledo Art
occasionally subtle
seen from Romania

seen from Malaysia

seen from Canada
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States

seen from France

seen from Spain

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from India
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
@rxgerthatt
TESSA THOMPSON attends Off-White's fall 2023 ready-to-wear runway show on March 2, 2023 in Paris
MARCH FIC RECS! — @dracosluvbot's fic recs
fics that i’ve been reading and obsessing with over the month of march
this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.
F: fluff A: angst S: smut
𖥻 - series /multi part
masterlist
CHRIS EVANS as ANDY BARBER in DEFENDING JACOB (2020)
writers block suuuucks. One part of my new fic to finish and then hopefully I’ll be happy with it hehe :)
CHRIS EVANS as STEVE ROGERS / CAPTAIN AMERICA Captain America: Civil War (2016) | dir. Anthony Russo, Joe Russo
[And what about rule number three? The whole point of making amends is to fulfill rule number three!]
THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER | S01E01
𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 : 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙝
masterlist | monthly fic rec masterlist
FLUFF
Unexpected by @pellucid-constellations (Army Vet!Bucky)
I’m here by @sweetdreamsbuck
Two Syllables by @coffee-with-bucky (dad!bucky)
i’ll fight for you, always by @insomniumstella
hot chocolate by @/insomniumstella
Muse by @navybrat817 (artist!bucky)
butterfly by @idy-ll-ique (alpha!bucky)
a misunderstanding by @traitorjoelite (40s!bucky)
the forever third wheels by @witchywithwhiskey
You and Him by @whitewinter-wolf
Heal Me With Your Love by @/whitewinter-wolf
The Lost Converse by @firefly-in-darkness
Make Yourself At Home by @/navybrat817
Soft Kisses by @eviesaurusrex
Short Stuff by @youlightmeupfinn
Pie by @themorningsunshine (mob!bucky x baker!reader)
thirst trap and the trapped by @lovelybarnes
viral by @/lovelybarnes
Sex-Ed by @dilemmaontwolegs
Water Bottle by @cloudybarnes
Drive-ins & Earthquakes by @venusstorm
ANGST
Counting by @/pellucid-constellations
he’s fine by @bethdutten
Someone’s there. by @d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n
Seven Seconds by @/dilemmaontwolegs
End Of The Line by @/dilemmaontwolegs (nurse!reader)
push his buttons by @mvtthewmurdvck
SMUT
car ride by @/insomniumstella
Everybody wants a taste by @navybrat817 (Rockstar!Bucky)
Spring Chicken by @thenhewaswrongaboutme
Locked by @/thenhewaswrongaboutme
Party for Two by @geeky-politics-46
save me darling, for you are my salvation by @rxgerthatt
Omg! Thank you so much darling!! Xxx
BLACK PANTHER: WAKANDA FOREVER (2022) dir. Ryan Coogler
the girl I met in bodie
Pairing : steve rogers x reader
Summary : Steve is on the run. Who knew he would find you in a ghost town?
Warnings : smut/violence/18+
A/n - been a while. trying to get back into the swing of things. hope you all enjoy!! feedback is greatly appreciated.
He met you in Bodie.
It was a hundred degrees and the pick up truck had broke down, hood breathing smoke along asphalt; sun beating unforgiving against his back. It was bad - and Steve had seen war.
He’d been on the run a few months now. Got separated from Sam after the government got intel and they were close to catching them. Not close enough.
Bodie was a ghost town. Dilapidated wooden buildings - breathe near them and they’ll collapse - plotted along ashen ground burning orange under constant sunlight. It was trapped in time, as he was. The world around it moving forward and it was forever in a period long forgotten.
He found himself relating to it.
The wood tombstones groaned under a shift of hot wind, knocked Steve in the lungs with gravel in his throat. The sun was setting, hues from a flame blazing across the horizon, licking the blue of the sky with a sharp tongue.
He couldn’t fix the truck in darkness.
—
When he first saw you, he thought you were a ghost - nearly shat his pants.
The barrel of a gun pointed towards his head, dangerous look in your eye because you didn’t get many visitors around these parts - that was clear.
Especially not visitors that were superhuman.
You were dressed modern. Denim cut offs, white spaghetti strap and a beat up pair of pink converse. Your skin was slicked, glowing and healthy. You must have been young, Steve guessed early twenties because you had that spark in your eye.
The one that gets snuffed out after time. Erodes away in your hands like dust and bone.
You study him, eyes a picture of nature; green flecked with amber. Wars stopped over those eyes. World at peace in vast green forests in golden light.
“Can I help you Captain?” So you do know who he is.
You make him nervous. He scratches the nape of his neck with a hum, “trucks busted. I could use somewhere to lay low.”
Everyone I know wants me dead.
He sees the clogs turning, the fight in your conscience before your eyes seem to shift and you saunter past him, waving a hand.
“Follow me,” you say. He does.
—
You’re guarded.
You don’t give much away, keep your cards close to your chest and Steve has a hard time reading you. There’s so many questions on the tip of his tongue - why are you alone? What’s your name? What’s your favourite colour?
He asks none of them.
You’ve built a home for yourself. Done up one of the old buildings and painted it blue, a calming blue. You’d built furniture, added your own touch and he wondered if you painted the pictures on the wall.
Your home was immaculate. Cabin in the woods type shit. A neutral colour palette - sepia toned photograph; burnt copper in his mouth. Spotless and well kept.
You’re cooking in the kitchen when he finds himself asking, “do you like to paint?”
He notices the small flicker of a smile as you toss onions in a pan, the soft sizzle becoming all too loud because he felt he overstepped a mark.
“Used to,” you say, adding garlic to the pan and Steve’s stomach growls. “Not been feeling inspired as of late.”
“You’re good,” Steve admires an abstract piece. A meld of red and gold swirling around negative space, a cool stream of blue twisting like veins. It sits above the fireplace in your living room, caught his eye the minute he walked in.
“Thanks,” and he thinks he sees a blush tint your cheeks, a crack in your tough exterior; an inner beauty bursting through for a fleeting moment before you’re serious again.
You place a plate in front of him, sliding a fork across the counter. Tomato pasta. “I can help you with the truck,” you don’t look at him again as you leave the room.
He doesn’t see you again that night.
—
He sees you smile for the first time a week later.
A grin, brighter than the golden gates and it’s at something he said - he can’t remember what because your smile clears his brain of any thought. For a moment he thinks he’s forgotten his name because fuck - that smile.
It lit up your whole face. White gleaming teeth, sparkling eyes - you were breathtaking.
Turns out the truck was beyond repair. Broken engine melting in the heat because it had been running for five years past its sell by date. You offered to let him stay.
“Whatever’s chasing you won’t find you here.”
So he accepted. What’s he got to lose? The Avengers was over. He had no idea where Sam was, and even if he did he had no way of getting to him.
You had also made it an easy decision to stay.
You intrigued him. Lit this fire he hadn’t felt since Peggy and he couldn’t ignore it because what if he missed out on something wonderful. He wanted to know about you, but so far he’d only gotten a name.
“I heard you jumped out of plane without a parachute,” there’s this playful glint in your eye.
“Is it impressive if I say I did?” He smiles.
“Are you trying to impress me Captain?” It’s sultry, match sparking in his loin.
Your hair is wild around your head, swollen with the humidity in the air. A mane of brunette framing a god-like face and how the fuck can you look like that. A forest nymph he’s only read about in story books.
“Yes,” he replies and you laugh. It’s a beautiful sound, sparks life deep into his soul; makes the air catch in his lungs at the sweet melody pouring honey over his ears.
“I don’t think I’m your type Rogers,” you say.
—
You lift a man into the air with your fucking mind.
Steve thinks he’s gone mad at first, but it was very much real. Hand outstretched, concentration unshaken and he squirms as he levitates - chest heaving in fear before he’s knocked out - falls to the ground and Steve’s mouth is open.
It was a flurry up until that point. He was ambushed, men in black - probably sent from the government. He managed to get most, but the one that was sneaking up behind him. The one you stopped. With your mind?
You turn towards him, “are you okay?”
What the fuck was that? - was what he wanted to say. Instead, he stuttered, shaking his head clear of fog before thanking you. You smile at his confusion.
“I suppose I should probably explain.”
Turns out you were born that way, didn’t start showing until you were nine and your parents couldn’t cope. It wasn’t long before you were taken into an institution - used as a Guinea pig. You escaped at 17, a kid with the world on her shoulders, her beating heart in her hand.
The secrecy made sense. Months of avoiding personal questions, a guarded wall he was prepared to climb. There was just something there. He could see it with you - life. A way other than war. Maybe that was naive of him.
You sit on the sofa, legs propped up on the table in front of you; a joint hanging from your fingers. The smell is strong, singes at the hairs in his nose and you laugh at the look on his face.
“Man, you’re really stuck in the 40’s,” you joke, eyes bloodshot; smile slightly off balance but you’re still a dream.
Steve huffs, “I am not.”
“Take a draw then,” you hold the burning stick in front of his mouth. If you’d asked him two months ago, he would’ve said no. It was different now. He didn’t feel like Captain America anymore - he felt like Steve Rogers. The kid from Brooklyn, living one hundred years in the future with you.
Living the life he never had in a fucking ghost town - who would’ve thought.
He surprises you when he takes a draw, tipping ash into a glass tray. After a couple his vision hazes, a calming numbness crosses his mind and his gaze slides over you.
“Wait til’ America hears about this one,” you joke, and Steve laughs. He could see the headlines now - Beloved Captain America says yes to Drugs.
Something changed in your eyes that night, like a barrier peeling from the outermost layer of your skin. He’s staring at you - he knows that - but you’re not looking away either.
He wasn’t good at reading the signs, and something deep in his stomach told him to move.
When he kissed you it felt right.
Soft pillowed lips sliding together he felt like he was tasting paradise on his tongue. You kissed him back - passionate, gentle compared to your icy exterior but that was all it was. Deep inside you were a flowering beauty, filled with secrets and he wanted to know them all.
He wanted you.
“You’re a good kisser for ninety-seven,” you smirk.
“Shut up.”
He kisses you again.
—
You have nightmares - the blood curdling kind.
He bursts into your room to find you screaming into a void - eyes closed, unconscious. He gets beside you, whispers sweet nothings in your ear - you’re okay. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.
You awake with a start, panting for breath, holding your chest with a flat palm. Cradling your head you lean forward and he lets you catch your breath. Your back was hot to the touch, as though a furnace had been lit under the surface of your skin.
“Sorry I woke you,” you say.
Steve shakes his head, “don’t be, you alright?”
You nod with a broken smile. The forest in your eyes was dark, glazed over with clouds of exhaustion. What was it like waking up when you were alone? Steve imagined you coped, you were made of tough stuff. Yet, the idea of anyone having to deal with that made his heart twist in his ribcage - especially you.
“What do you want me to do?” He asks you. He doesn’t want to overstep. You’d made progress and he didn’t want you to shut him out now.
You surprise him when you say, “stay.”
Steve doesn’t hesitate, and you make room for him; pulling the sheet back to allow him to get in with you. When you rest your head on his chest it’s like home. White picket fences and green green grass and where he was meant to be.
“I get them too,” he admits to you, taking a hand through your thick hair. “About the war, about going in the ice.”
You don’t judge him. A slender finger slides over his chest, makes the hair at the nape of his neck stand to attention because you had that affect on him. Only you.
“I’m glad your truck broke down,” you said.
“Me too sweetheart,” he replied with a smile.
You doze off in his arms. It’s the best sleep he’s had since going in the ice.
—
He makes love to you that summer.
The fire crackles, mixing with the sound of lips on lips - the shedding of clothes. The room is too-hot, sweat slicking bare chests as he lays you down on the sofa.
You grip at each other like it’ll be the last time - he hopes it’s not.
Stripped before him you’re like a fever dream. Tits perfectly sat on your chest, the most beautiful he’d ever seen and how did he strike so lucky in a place like Bodie?
Steve kisses down your neck, chest - anywhere he can put his lips because he’d never tasted something as sweet as you, an addicting flavour on his tongue that he never wanted to give up - not now, not ever.
You groan under his worship, a gentle touch you would never expect from a super soldier but here he was; kneading your body as though he were making bread. Studying everything he wanted to remember, because his luck was running short these days and what if you were another carrot that the universe would dangle in front of him. Just to take it away in the end.
When he pushes into the hilt you moan - the most saccharine sound he’s ever heard. It’s like ice on his spine, trickling down each nerve with ease.
“Jesus doll,” he breaths, a blow of air as your pussy squeezes him in an unforgiving way. You whine in response and he begins to move, a slide of - in, out, in, out - and fuck he won’t last long when you look at him like that.
Your hands are on his chest, muscles shifting beneath your finger tips. You legs wrap around his waist as he makes the sweetest vanilla love - the holiday kind. Sunsetting over the horizon kind of bullshit and he wanted to stay here forever.
You call his name, drag your fingers through his hair and he reaches between you; teases your pebble until you’re arching into him. Steve kisses you again, chases the oxygen you breathe because he wants to steal it from you.
“Please Stevie,” you beg, panting and writhing beneath him. He’s pushed you further up the sofa in his relentless pounding, your neck crooked but you don’t care as you cry out - pushing him over the edge.
You can’t get pregnant. You’d told him they’d made sure of that early on. Babies are a distraction. Steve told you you would be a good mom - you were not so sure.
“Are you a virgin?” You ask him as he settles beside you, pulling you into his chest with a grumble.
“That bad huh?” He smirks.
“No,” you chuckle.
—
Steve decided you were his soulmate after a year.
He stopped trying to contact Sam. What was the point? The world would need him again eventually but right now he wanted to be stuck in time with you. You never labelled what you had, kept it at an arms length but Steve knew how you felt about him.
He had a feeling he wouldn’t be alive if you didn’t feel the way he did.
He catches you making breakfast one morning. Frying eggs as you hum and tap your foot - hair a wild mess around your head, his shirt riding high enough for him to catch the smooth curve of your ass. A domesticated goddess, with the ability to rip him limb for limb and he likes that danger.
Steve wraps his arms around your middle, resting a hand on your flattened stomach and he notices the way you soften there. Each layer of you he peeled back was more beautiful than the last, it was hard not to just say -
“I love you.”
Fuck - he said it.
You turn in surprise - maybe you didn’t expect it, or maybe you’ve never heard those words directed at you. For a moment he feels he’s overstepped, maybe you just enjoyed his company and he’s read this all wrong but then you kiss him. Passionate, it washes over him like a promise because you have this ability to make him feel like he did pre serum.
Small and weak, pining after a dame too good for him.
“I love you too,” you reply.
Who knew that the girl he met in Bodie, would be the love of his life.
Thank you for the love!! So glad you enjoyed!!
Scarlett Johansson as Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow Black Widow (2021) dir. Cate Shortland
I love her
save me darling, for you are my salvation
Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader
Warnings : 18+/smut/creeps/ no minors!
Summary : you own a cafe. Bucky’s trying to work through his shit.
A/N : two in one day? Aren’t you lucky.
When Bucky met you he was a changed a man.
As changed as an ex assassin with a metal arm and superhuman strength could be.
Gone were the days of mission reports and masked, grime slicked faces. No more soviet slugs, no more murdering innocents. I’m James Buchanan Barnes, I’m no longer the Winter Soldier and you are part of my efforts to get my life back together.
Or something like that.
He’d taken up therapy. Once a week for one hour, unpacking decades worth of baggage he kept locked away in the folds of his mind. He’d come to your cafe after every session - 2pm on the dot - and not because the coffee was good.
Nah, he came because of you.
The bright eyed girl. Bouncing hair and gleaming smile. In another life he would have had no issue asking you out, but a hundred years of trauma has an affect on his confidence. You were like a soothing balm over his mind. After an hour of facing demons with gaping mouths, drooling nothing but trauma over his shoulder - seeing your smile made them shrivel into the darkness once more.
“Hey Bucky,” you beam, joyful, full of light and he wonders how you do it. “The usual?”
“Hey,” he sits at the counter. “Please doll.”
You sit your book down, get to work on making him a black coffee - one sugar because he needed the lift up.
You place it in front of him with a grin, “one black with sugar.”
He thanks you, “what you reading today?”
You push your book across the counter, bent corners, pages dog eared and he could tell it was well loved. A Time to Kill.
“You seen the movie?” You ask him, leaning your head in your hands and looking up at him through your lashes and fuck - if he hadn’t dreamed of that in another context.
Bucky shakes his head, takes a sip and watches as you think through what you say next.
“I’ve got it on DVD, you could borrow it or…” you trail off for a moment, before - fuck it. “You could come round? Only if you want.”
Your cute. Cheeks blushed pink, big eyes sparkling and how could he ever say no to you? His candle in the dark, warped reality of his life.
“Tonight?” He finds himself asking.
—
Your apartment is what he expects it to be - immaculate.
A humble one bedroom with eggshell painted walls and dark oak furniture. You open the door to him with a smile, ushering him inside. You’ve laid out snacks - popcorn, chips and these little jelly sweets in colour coordinated bowls.
He watches you as you load up the DVD player. It’s the first time he’s seen you out of uniform, short shorts and oversized graphic tee with these big fluffy slippers that look too big compared to your slender legs.
You have great legs.
“Never expected this to be your kinda film,” Bucky comments as you sit beside him, throwing him a blanket as you wrap yourself in your own.
“I find it best not to judge a book by its cover,” you reply with a smirk. “Who doesn’t love a good crime movie?”
You had a point.
As the movie played on you got closer, until his arm was resting on the sofa above you, two blankets down to one, your back pressed to his side and he was sure it was a good film - but he couldn’t concentrate. He just hoped you didn’t ask any questions about it.
He’d never been this close. To study the curl of your lashes as they kissed the tips of high cheekbones and the soft slope of your nose and the freckle you had just below your ear. You were the prettiest thing he’d ever fucking seen.
You yawn softly as the credits roll. Bucky moves to stand up but you call his name.
“You can take the sofa,” you rub your hands together. “It’s late.”
He nods, feels his heart jump and he doesn’t miss the breath of relief you let out at his acceptance. Maybe you thought he didn’t want you - the furthest thing from the truth - but he knew his exterior was steely - maybe he could let you in.
You bring him pillows, make the sofa look like the comfiest bed in the world and before you retire to your room you kiss his cheek.
“G’night Bucky.”
He leaves before you wake up.
—
Bucky found out he was jealous on a Tuesday afternoon.
He never remembers feeling like this in the 40’s - that green brush of envy as a jock leaned across the counter waffling words he couldn’t hear. You carried on working, humming occasionally but never really listening.
Bucky gets closer and your eyes shift to him, face lighting and you greeted him with that smile that melted his vital organs.
“Hey doll, just the usual please.”
You nod, refusing his money as you get to work on his coffee, and he wonders if the fact you’d never taken a dime from him was a sign you liked him. He hoped it was.
You’re turned away when Bucky catches shit-house in the corner staring openly at your ass - no shame, licking his lips with a smile and Bucky felt the involuntary shift of his metal arm beneath his clothes.
Punk.
“What’s it gonna take babe?” The jock says to you as you turn to clean the counter. You cut a glance in his direction, scowl on your face that Bucky had never seen before because it was so unlike you - his girl with the blazing smile.
“I’m here everyday, won’t you let me take that pretty ass out on a date?” What a gentleman.
You openly bristle, place a bill in front of him with a scowl.
“And I tell you everyday Nathan, I’m not interested in dating,” you respond. “Cash or card?”
Bucky chuckles. He’d never seen that side to you. Fire burning your fingertips, tongue like a whip as you shot his advancements out of the air - bang, bang, bang.
Bullseye.
Nathan finally looks at Bucky then, an icy gaze with stormy blue eyes - enough to scare a cat - not a super soldier.
“You find that funny?” He barks.
Bucky takes a sip of his coffee, grins as he says, “yeah actually, I did.”
As expected, Nathan storms out after paying - men like him have worse bark than bite - and Bucky was well equipped to deal with both. Especially when it came to you.
You sigh, shoulders slumped and you continue to clean. Bucky wonders how often you deal with assholes like that - everyday by the sounds of things. He couldn’t blame a man for trying, you were the most beautiful girl Bucky had ever seen, and he’d been alive for over a century.
“So you’re not interested in dating?” Bucky earns a smile from you, a small chuckle in your throat that still sounds defeated.
You work your arm in circles, counter spotless as you say, “I’m holding out for someone special.”
“Do I know him?” Bucky asks.
“You know him pretty well,” you blush.
—
When he finds out John Walker is Captain America - he goes to you.
He shouldn’t. It’s 3am but he doesn’t know where else to go, saunters the streets and he lands at your door; rapping his knuckles on the wood. Heart on his sleeve, tears brushing his eyes because how could they replace him?
How could they ever replace Steve?
His best friend. His one tie to another life. The only man that deserved the title of Captain America - not some jumped up military man, brainwashed by governments who tell him he’s doing the ‘right thing.’ To see that shield on another man’s arm?
That fucking hurt.
You’re confused when you open the door, groomed by sleep and you’re even prettier when you’re not done up - messy hair, sleep hazed eyes.
“Your neighbour let me in I-“
You move to let him inside, not needing the explanation and Bucky knew he came to the right place. His one solace, his salvation - you.
“Are you okay Bucky?” You ask him and he breaks down.
You hold him as he cries, rub his back with tender hands; his rock against a moving tide. The ocean tried to wash him away but he clung onto you, and his head stayed above water.
He fills in the spots you’ve missed. The parts of his life he wanted to share but was worried they would scare you off. Holy fuck - he wasn’t joking when he said he was 106.
The metal arm mesmerises you. You turn his palm in your hand with a - “I thought you said you had poor circulation?”
You make him laugh. Brew him tea and listen to his queries and you do a better job than Raynor ever could because he just needed someone to hear him, to understand him.
The dark fog lifts with your head on his shoulder, his hand combing through your hair and he apologises for getting you out of your bed. You tell him to shut up.
Nothing else matters when he’s here with you. These fleeting moments where he thinks he could do life like this, a normal life, with you - the girl from the cafe that stopped his heart when he first saw you. You chase away the dark, cocoon him in this blissful period of you and him - that’s all that mattered.
“I’m off tomorrow,” you announce. “You’re welcome to stay.”
“Thank you doll,” he replies.
You take his hand, lead him to your room and it takes him by surprise because it’s a fucking mess and that’s unlike you. You scratch the nape of your neck with a giggle, apologising but he doesn’t know what for.
He sleeps with you tangled around him, the warmth of your body rocking him to a deep slumber; the smell of your hair like a wet finger to a match on his nerves.
Yeah - he could do life like this.
—
You’re the one who kisses him for the first time.
There’s a picnic basket - homemade sandwiches and fresh cream buns on a soft patchwork blanket. The sun pounds on your skin, spot of butter on your chin and he wipes it away with his thumb. You giggle and it lights a fire in his stomach that licks its way through his insides.
You’re so close.
Your lips are soft, your smell intoxicating and he needs to remind himself he’s in a fucking park, but it’s hard not to let himself be completely consumed by you.
Bit late for that pal.
There’s a soft hum in your chest that sends signals straight to his mind, makes him light headed and hazy as he strokes a hand across your cheek.
For the first time he feels like a boy. He’s back in Brooklyn and if you’d been alive a hundred years ago he would’ve asked you to marry him because that’s how deep he’d drowned in you. Like a body of water, you flowed in waves. You pulled him into your current until all he could think of was you.
You giggle because he must look starstruck - blushed cheeks and blown out eyes, lips slightly parted because wow - you amazed him.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Bucky says.
“Why didn’t you?” You quirk your head.
“Been out of the game doll,” he chuckles. “Not good with hints.”
“If I said I liked you would that make it easier?” Your eyes sparkle.
“Let’s go back to your apartment.”
You laugh.
—
You’re in his lap, legs spilling across his thighs as you straddle him and Bucky forgets how to breathe.
His hands are everywhere - your hair, your face, up your shirt. Your tits fit perfectly in his hands, but they sit even better on your chest - perked to attention and fuck - they didn’t make them like you in the 40’s.
Maybe you were the reason he survived. All the pain and torture to reach this moment with you. His girl.
You make work of his belt, slip out his cock into your hand before spitting on it. Bucky groans, lets his fingers mess the wetness beneath your panties before you slide onto him with a whine. You move with ease, up and down - Bucky feels like he’s dreaming; mind clouded with lust and all he could feel was you.
“Fuck,” you say when he hits a particularly nice spot deep inside you and he makes a point of rutting up into you to reach it over and over again because he won’t last long. Not with you.
He throws his head back, blows out a breath as he feels the heat starting in his toes. He holds you hip with his metal arm, pounding into you relentless when he feels your legs grow weak and you did so well for him.
You were so good for him.
You fall forward as your pussy squeezes his girth, head on his shoulder and he’s chasing his high before yours is even finished.
You kiss him lovingly, dropping beside him and he pulls a blanket over you. Bucky kisses the top of your head, the sounds of heavy breathing and rapid heart rate battering against his eardrums.
His mind is blank.
“That was…” you drift off.
“Fucking incredible,” he finishes.
—
He brings you roses on your birthday.
Walked miles around town to find the best of the best because you deserve nothing less and he knows that.
He spots you through the window, cleaning a table in the back corner and he has to stop to watch you in this candid moment. He couldn’t believe you would pick him. The fucked up soldier with the fucked up past.
I’m James Buchanan Barnes and I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.
You look up when he walks into the cafe, not shy as you walk towards him, kissing him softly.
“Happy birthday doll.”
You thank him, holding the roses like a new born child and he notices Nathan scowling in the corner as you prepare them in a vase.
“Thought you weren’t into dating?” Nathan spits at you.
You smile at him, before glancing at Bucky with a smirk.
“I’m into older guys.”
Oh - you’d pay for that.
I wanna cry, this is such a beautiful story
Thank you so much! I’m so glad you enjoyed! We could all shed a few tears for a traumatised Bucky
Okay so - I’m working on a sequel to ‘once upon a time, I forgot her name.’ It’s going to take some time just cause I’m a perfectionist :P
If anyone has any requests in the mean time - please hit me up!
save me darling, for you are my salvation
Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader
Warnings : 18+/smut/creeps/ no minors!
Summary : you own a cafe. Bucky’s trying to work through his shit.
A/N : two in one day? Aren’t you lucky.
When Bucky met you he was a changed a man.
As changed as an ex assassin with a metal arm and superhuman strength could be.
Gone were the days of mission reports and masked, grime slicked faces. No more soviet slugs, no more murdering innocents. I’m James Buchanan Barnes, I’m no longer the Winter Soldier and you are part of my efforts to get my life back together.
Or something like that.
He’d taken up therapy. Once a week for one hour, unpacking decades worth of baggage he kept locked away in the folds of his mind. He’d come to your cafe after every session - 2pm on the dot - and not because the coffee was good.
Nah, he came because of you.
The bright eyed girl. Bouncing hair and gleaming smile. In another life he would have had no issue asking you out, but a hundred years of trauma has an affect on his confidence. You were like a soothing balm over his mind. After an hour of facing demons with gaping mouths, drooling nothing but trauma over his shoulder - seeing your smile made them shrivel into the darkness once more.
“Hey Bucky,” you beam, joyful, full of light and he wonders how you do it. “The usual?”
“Hey,” he sits at the counter. “Please doll.”
You sit your book down, get to work on making him a black coffee - one sugar because he needed the lift up.
You place it in front of him with a grin, “one black with sugar.”
He thanks you, “what you reading today?”
You push your book across the counter, bent corners, pages dog eared and he could tell it was well loved. A Time to Kill.
“You seen the movie?” You ask him, leaning your head in your hands and looking up at him through your lashes and fuck - if he hadn’t dreamed of that in another context.
Bucky shakes his head, takes a sip and watches as you think through what you say next.
“I’ve got it on DVD, you could borrow it or…” you trail off for a moment, before - fuck it. “You could come round? Only if you want.”
Your cute. Cheeks blushed pink, big eyes sparkling and how could he ever say no to you? His candle in the dark, warped reality of his life.
“Tonight?” He finds himself asking.
—
Your apartment is what he expects it to be - immaculate.
A humble one bedroom with eggshell painted walls and dark oak furniture. You open the door to him with a smile, ushering him inside. You’ve laid out snacks - popcorn, chips and these little jelly sweets in colour coordinated bowls.
He watches you as you load up the DVD player. It’s the first time he’s seen you out of uniform, short shorts and oversized graphic tee with these big fluffy slippers that look too big compared to your slender legs.
You have great legs.
“Never expected this to be your kinda film,” Bucky comments as you sit beside him, throwing him a blanket as you wrap yourself in your own.
“I find it best not to judge a book by its cover,” you reply with a smirk. “Who doesn’t love a good crime movie?”
You had a point.
As the movie played on you got closer, until his arm was resting on the sofa above you, two blankets down to one, your back pressed to his side and he was sure it was a good film - but he couldn’t concentrate. He just hoped you didn’t ask any questions about it.
He’d never been this close. To study the curl of your lashes as they kissed the tips of high cheekbones and the soft slope of your nose and the freckle you had just below your ear. You were the prettiest thing he’d ever fucking seen.
You yawn softly as the credits roll. Bucky moves to stand up but you call his name.
“You can take the sofa,” you rub your hands together. “It’s late.”
He nods, feels his heart jump and he doesn’t miss the breath of relief you let out at his acceptance. Maybe you thought he didn’t want you - the furthest thing from the truth - but he knew his exterior was steely - maybe he could let you in.
You bring him pillows, make the sofa look like the comfiest bed in the world and before you retire to your room you kiss his cheek.
“G’night Bucky.”
He leaves before you wake up.
—
Bucky found out he was jealous on a Tuesday afternoon.
He never remembers feeling like this in the 40’s - that green brush of envy as a jock leaned across the counter waffling words he couldn’t hear. You carried on working, humming occasionally but never really listening.
Bucky gets closer and your eyes shift to him, face lighting and you greeted him with that smile that melted his vital organs.
“Hey doll, just the usual please.”
You nod, refusing his money as you get to work on his coffee, and he wonders if the fact you’d never taken a dime from him was a sign you liked him. He hoped it was.
You’re turned away when Bucky catches shit-house in the corner staring openly at your ass - no shame, licking his lips with a smile and Bucky felt the involuntary shift of his metal arm beneath his clothes.
Punk.
“What’s it gonna take babe?” The jock says to you as you turn to clean the counter. You cut a glance in his direction, scowl on your face that Bucky had never seen before because it was so unlike you - his girl with the blazing smile.
“I’m here everyday, won’t you let me take that pretty ass out on a date?” What a gentleman.
You openly bristle, place a bill in front of him with a scowl.
“And I tell you everyday Nathan, I’m not interested in dating,” you respond. “Cash or card?”
Bucky chuckles. He’d never seen that side to you. Fire burning your fingertips, tongue like a whip as you shot his advancements out of the air - bang, bang, bang.
Bullseye.
Nathan finally looks at Bucky then, an icy gaze with stormy blue eyes - enough to scare a cat - not a super soldier.
“You find that funny?” He barks.
Bucky takes a sip of his coffee, grins as he says, “yeah actually, I did.”
As expected, Nathan storms out after paying - men like him have worse bark than bite - and Bucky was well equipped to deal with both. Especially when it came to you.
You sigh, shoulders slumped and you continue to clean. Bucky wonders how often you deal with assholes like that - everyday by the sounds of things. He couldn’t blame a man for trying, you were the most beautiful girl Bucky had ever seen, and he’d been alive for over a century.
“So you’re not interested in dating?” Bucky earns a smile from you, a small chuckle in your throat that still sounds defeated.
You work your arm in circles, counter spotless as you say, “I’m holding out for someone special.”
“Do I know him?” Bucky asks.
“You know him pretty well,” you blush.
—
When he finds out John Walker is Captain America - he goes to you.
He shouldn’t. It’s 3am but he doesn’t know where else to go, saunters the streets and he lands at your door; rapping his knuckles on the wood. Heart on his sleeve, tears brushing his eyes because how could they replace him?
How could they ever replace Steve?
His best friend. His one tie to another life. The only man that deserved the title of Captain America - not some jumped up military man, brainwashed by governments who tell him he’s doing the ‘right thing.’ To see that shield on another man’s arm?
That fucking hurt.
You’re confused when you open the door, groomed by sleep and you’re even prettier when you’re not done up - messy hair, sleep hazed eyes.
“Your neighbour let me in I-“
You move to let him inside, not needing the explanation and Bucky knew he came to the right place. His one solace, his salvation - you.
“Are you okay Bucky?” You ask him and he breaks down.
You hold him as he cries, rub his back with tender hands; his rock against a moving tide. The ocean tried to wash him away but he clung onto you, and his head stayed above water.
He fills in the spots you’ve missed. The parts of his life he wanted to share but was worried they would scare you off. Holy fuck - he wasn’t joking when he said he was 106.
The metal arm mesmerises you. You turn his palm in your hand with a - “I thought you said you had poor circulation?”
You make him laugh. Brew him tea and listen to his queries and you do a better job than Raynor ever could because he just needed someone to hear him, to understand him.
The dark fog lifts with your head on his shoulder, his hand combing through your hair and he apologises for getting you out of your bed. You tell him to shut up.
Nothing else matters when he’s here with you. These fleeting moments where he thinks he could do life like this, a normal life, with you - the girl from the cafe that stopped his heart when he first saw you. You chase away the dark, cocoon him in this blissful period of you and him - that’s all that mattered.
“I’m off tomorrow,” you announce. “You’re welcome to stay.”
“Thank you doll,” he replies.
You take his hand, lead him to your room and it takes him by surprise because it’s a fucking mess and that’s unlike you. You scratch the nape of your neck with a giggle, apologising but he doesn’t know what for.
He sleeps with you tangled around him, the warmth of your body rocking him to a deep slumber; the smell of your hair like a wet finger to a match on his nerves.
Yeah - he could do life like this.
—
You’re the one who kisses him for the first time.
There’s a picnic basket - homemade sandwiches and fresh cream buns on a soft patchwork blanket. The sun pounds on your skin, spot of butter on your chin and he wipes it away with his thumb. You giggle and it lights a fire in his stomach that licks its way through his insides.
You’re so close.
Your lips are soft, your smell intoxicating and he needs to remind himself he’s in a fucking park, but it’s hard not to let himself be completely consumed by you.
Bit late for that pal.
There’s a soft hum in your chest that sends signals straight to his mind, makes him light headed and hazy as he strokes a hand across your cheek.
For the first time he feels like a boy. He’s back in Brooklyn and if you’d been alive a hundred years ago he would’ve asked you to marry him because that’s how deep he’d drowned in you. Like a body of water, you flowed in waves. You pulled him into your current until all he could think of was you.
You giggle because he must look starstruck - blushed cheeks and blown out eyes, lips slightly parted because wow - you amazed him.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Bucky says.
“Why didn’t you?” You quirk your head.
“Been out of the game doll,” he chuckles. “Not good with hints.”
“If I said I liked you would that make it easier?” Your eyes sparkle.
“Let’s go back to your apartment.”
You laugh.
—
You’re in his lap, legs spilling across his thighs as you straddle him and Bucky forgets how to breathe.
His hands are everywhere - your hair, your face, up your shirt. Your tits fit perfectly in his hands, but they sit even better on your chest - perked to attention and fuck - they didn’t make them like you in the 40’s.
Maybe you were the reason he survived. All the pain and torture to reach this moment with you. His girl.
You make work of his belt, slip out his cock into your hand before spitting on it. Bucky groans, lets his fingers mess the wetness beneath your panties before you slide onto him with a whine. You move with ease, up and down - Bucky feels like he’s dreaming; mind clouded with lust and all he could feel was you.
“Fuck,” you say when he hits a particularly nice spot deep inside you and he makes a point of rutting up into you to reach it over and over again because he won’t last long. Not with you.
He throws his head back, blows out a breath as he feels the heat starting in his toes. He holds you hip with his metal arm, pounding into you relentless when he feels your legs grow weak and you did so well for him.
You were so good for him.
You fall forward as your pussy squeezes his girth, head on his shoulder and he’s chasing his high before yours is even finished.
You kiss him lovingly, dropping beside him and he pulls a blanket over you. Bucky kisses the top of your head, the sounds of heavy breathing and rapid heart rate battering against his eardrums.
His mind is blank.
“That was…” you drift off.
“Fucking incredible,” he finishes.
—
He brings you roses on your birthday.
Walked miles around town to find the best of the best because you deserve nothing less and he knows that.
He spots you through the window, cleaning a table in the back corner and he has to stop to watch you in this candid moment. He couldn’t believe you would pick him. The fucked up soldier with the fucked up past.
I’m James Buchanan Barnes and I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.
You look up when he walks into the cafe, not shy as you walk towards him, kissing him softly.
“Happy birthday doll.”
You thank him, holding the roses like a new born child and he notices Nathan scowling in the corner as you prepare them in a vase.
“Thought you weren’t into dating?” Nathan spits at you.
You smile at him, before glancing at Bucky with a smirk.
“I’m into older guys.”
Oh - you’d pay for that.
So amazing…
Thank you for all the love!
#BSE: Bearded Steve Energy.
save me darling, for you are my salvation
Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader
Warnings : 18+/smut/creeps/ no minors!
Summary : you own a cafe. Bucky’s trying to work through his shit.
A/N : two in one day? Aren’t you lucky.
When Bucky met you he was a changed a man.
As changed as an ex assassin with a metal arm and superhuman strength could be.
Gone were the days of mission reports and masked, grime slicked faces. No more soviet slugs, no more murdering innocents. I’m James Buchanan Barnes, I’m no longer the Winter Soldier and you are part of my efforts to get my life back together.
Or something like that.
He’d taken up therapy. Once a week for one hour, unpacking decades worth of baggage he kept locked away in the folds of his mind. He’d come to your cafe after every session - 2pm on the dot - and not because the coffee was good.
Nah, he came because of you.
The bright eyed girl. Bouncing hair and gleaming smile. In another life he would have had no issue asking you out, but a hundred years of trauma has an affect on his confidence. You were like a soothing balm over his mind. After an hour of facing demons with gaping mouths, drooling nothing but trauma over his shoulder - seeing your smile made them shrivel into the darkness once more.
“Hey Bucky,” you beam, joyful, full of light and he wonders how you do it. “The usual?”
“Hey,” he sits at the counter. “Please doll.”
You sit your book down, get to work on making him a black coffee - one sugar because he needed the lift up.
You place it in front of him with a grin, “one black with sugar.”
He thanks you, “what you reading today?”
You push your book across the counter, bent corners, pages dog eared and he could tell it was well loved. A Time to Kill.
“You seen the movie?” You ask him, leaning your head in your hands and looking up at him through your lashes and fuck - if he hadn’t dreamed of that in another context.
Bucky shakes his head, takes a sip and watches as you think through what you say next.
“I’ve got it on DVD, you could borrow it or…” you trail off for a moment, before - fuck it. “You could come round? Only if you want.”
Your cute. Cheeks blushed pink, big eyes sparkling and how could he ever say no to you? His candle in the dark, warped reality of his life.
“Tonight?” He finds himself asking.
—
Your apartment is what he expects it to be - immaculate.
A humble one bedroom with eggshell painted walls and dark oak furniture. You open the door to him with a smile, ushering him inside. You’ve laid out snacks - popcorn, chips and these little jelly sweets in colour coordinated bowls.
He watches you as you load up the DVD player. It’s the first time he’s seen you out of uniform, short shorts and oversized graphic tee with these big fluffy slippers that look too big compared to your slender legs.
You have great legs.
“Never expected this to be your kinda film,” Bucky comments as you sit beside him, throwing him a blanket as you wrap yourself in your own.
“I find it best not to judge a book by its cover,” you reply with a smirk. “Who doesn’t love a good crime movie?”
You had a point.
As the movie played on you got closer, until his arm was resting on the sofa above you, two blankets down to one, your back pressed to his side and he was sure it was a good film - but he couldn’t concentrate. He just hoped you didn’t ask any questions about it.
He’d never been this close. To study the curl of your lashes as they kissed the tips of high cheekbones and the soft slope of your nose and the freckle you had just below your ear. You were the prettiest thing he’d ever fucking seen.
You yawn softly as the credits roll. Bucky moves to stand up but you call his name.
“You can take the sofa,” you rub your hands together. “It’s late.”
He nods, feels his heart jump and he doesn’t miss the breath of relief you let out at his acceptance. Maybe you thought he didn’t want you - the furthest thing from the truth - but he knew his exterior was steely - maybe he could let you in.
You bring him pillows, make the sofa look like the comfiest bed in the world and before you retire to your room you kiss his cheek.
“G’night Bucky.”
He leaves before you wake up.
—
Bucky found out he was jealous on a Tuesday afternoon.
He never remembers feeling like this in the 40’s - that green brush of envy as a jock leaned across the counter waffling words he couldn’t hear. You carried on working, humming occasionally but never really listening.
Bucky gets closer and your eyes shift to him, face lighting and you greeted him with that smile that melted his vital organs.
“Hey doll, just the usual please.”
You nod, refusing his money as you get to work on his coffee, and he wonders if the fact you’d never taken a dime from him was a sign you liked him. He hoped it was.
You’re turned away when Bucky catches shit-house in the corner staring openly at your ass - no shame, licking his lips with a smile and Bucky felt the involuntary shift of his metal arm beneath his clothes.
Punk.
“What’s it gonna take babe?” The jock says to you as you turn to clean the counter. You cut a glance in his direction, scowl on your face that Bucky had never seen before because it was so unlike you - his girl with the blazing smile.
“I’m here everyday, won’t you let me take that pretty ass out on a date?” What a gentleman.
You openly bristle, place a bill in front of him with a scowl.
“And I tell you everyday Nathan, I’m not interested in dating,” you respond. “Cash or card?”
Bucky chuckles. He’d never seen that side to you. Fire burning your fingertips, tongue like a whip as you shot his advancements out of the air - bang, bang, bang.
Bullseye.
Nathan finally looks at Bucky then, an icy gaze with stormy blue eyes - enough to scare a cat - not a super soldier.
“You find that funny?” He barks.
Bucky takes a sip of his coffee, grins as he says, “yeah actually, I did.”
As expected, Nathan storms out after paying - men like him have worse bark than bite - and Bucky was well equipped to deal with both. Especially when it came to you.
You sigh, shoulders slumped and you continue to clean. Bucky wonders how often you deal with assholes like that - everyday by the sounds of things. He couldn’t blame a man for trying, you were the most beautiful girl Bucky had ever seen, and he’d been alive for over a century.
“So you’re not interested in dating?” Bucky earns a smile from you, a small chuckle in your throat that still sounds defeated.
You work your arm in circles, counter spotless as you say, “I’m holding out for someone special.”
“Do I know him?” Bucky asks.
“You know him pretty well,” you blush.
—
When he finds out John Walker is Captain America - he goes to you.
He shouldn’t. It’s 3am but he doesn’t know where else to go, saunters the streets and he lands at your door; rapping his knuckles on the wood. Heart on his sleeve, tears brushing his eyes because how could they replace him?
How could they ever replace Steve?
His best friend. His one tie to another life. The only man that deserved the title of Captain America - not some jumped up military man, brainwashed by governments who tell him he’s doing the ‘right thing.’ To see that shield on another man’s arm?
That fucking hurt.
You’re confused when you open the door, groomed by sleep and you’re even prettier when you’re not done up - messy hair, sleep hazed eyes.
“Your neighbour let me in I-“
You move to let him inside, not needing the explanation and Bucky knew he came to the right place. His one solace, his salvation - you.
“Are you okay Bucky?” You ask him and he breaks down.
You hold him as he cries, rub his back with tender hands; his rock against a moving tide. The ocean tried to wash him away but he clung onto you, and his head stayed above water.
He fills in the spots you’ve missed. The parts of his life he wanted to share but was worried they would scare you off. Holy fuck - he wasn’t joking when he said he was 106.
The metal arm mesmerises you. You turn his palm in your hand with a - “I thought you said you had poor circulation?”
You make him laugh. Brew him tea and listen to his queries and you do a better job than Raynor ever could because he just needed someone to hear him, to understand him.
The dark fog lifts with your head on his shoulder, his hand combing through your hair and he apologises for getting you out of your bed. You tell him to shut up.
Nothing else matters when he’s here with you. These fleeting moments where he thinks he could do life like this, a normal life, with you - the girl from the cafe that stopped his heart when he first saw you. You chase away the dark, cocoon him in this blissful period of you and him - that’s all that mattered.
“I’m off tomorrow,” you announce. “You’re welcome to stay.”
“Thank you doll,” he replies.
You take his hand, lead him to your room and it takes him by surprise because it’s a fucking mess and that’s unlike you. You scratch the nape of your neck with a giggle, apologising but he doesn’t know what for.
He sleeps with you tangled around him, the warmth of your body rocking him to a deep slumber; the smell of your hair like a wet finger to a match on his nerves.
Yeah - he could do life like this.
—
You’re the one who kisses him for the first time.
There’s a picnic basket - homemade sandwiches and fresh cream buns on a soft patchwork blanket. The sun pounds on your skin, spot of butter on your chin and he wipes it away with his thumb. You giggle and it lights a fire in his stomach that licks its way through his insides.
You’re so close.
Your lips are soft, your smell intoxicating and he needs to remind himself he’s in a fucking park, but it’s hard not to let himself be completely consumed by you.
Bit late for that pal.
There’s a soft hum in your chest that sends signals straight to his mind, makes him light headed and hazy as he strokes a hand across your cheek.
For the first time he feels like a boy. He’s back in Brooklyn and if you’d been alive a hundred years ago he would’ve asked you to marry him because that’s how deep he’d drowned in you. Like a body of water, you flowed in waves. You pulled him into your current until all he could think of was you.
You giggle because he must look starstruck - blushed cheeks and blown out eyes, lips slightly parted because wow - you amazed him.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Bucky says.
“Why didn’t you?” You quirk your head.
“Been out of the game doll,” he chuckles. “Not good with hints.”
“If I said I liked you would that make it easier?” Your eyes sparkle.
“Let’s go back to your apartment.”
You laugh.
—
You’re in his lap, legs spilling across his thighs as you straddle him and Bucky forgets how to breathe.
His hands are everywhere - your hair, your face, up your shirt. Your tits fit perfectly in his hands, but they sit even better on your chest - perked to attention and fuck - they didn’t make them like you in the 40’s.
Maybe you were the reason he survived. All the pain and torture to reach this moment with you. His girl.
You make work of his belt, slip out his cock into your hand before spitting on it. Bucky groans, lets his fingers mess the wetness beneath your panties before you slide onto him with a whine. You move with ease, up and down - Bucky feels like he’s dreaming; mind clouded with lust and all he could feel was you.
“Fuck,” you say when he hits a particularly nice spot deep inside you and he makes a point of rutting up into you to reach it over and over again because he won’t last long. Not with you.
He throws his head back, blows out a breath as he feels the heat starting in his toes. He holds you hip with his metal arm, pounding into you relentless when he feels your legs grow weak and you did so well for him.
You were so good for him.
You fall forward as your pussy squeezes his girth, head on his shoulder and he’s chasing his high before yours is even finished.
You kiss him lovingly, dropping beside him and he pulls a blanket over you. Bucky kisses the top of your head, the sounds of heavy breathing and rapid heart rate battering against his eardrums.
His mind is blank.
“That was…” you drift off.
“Fucking incredible,” he finishes.
—
He brings you roses on your birthday.
Walked miles around town to find the best of the best because you deserve nothing less and he knows that.
He spots you through the window, cleaning a table in the back corner and he has to stop to watch you in this candid moment. He couldn’t believe you would pick him. The fucked up soldier with the fucked up past.
I’m James Buchanan Barnes and I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.
You look up when he walks into the cafe, not shy as you walk towards him, kissing him softly.
“Happy birthday doll.”
You thank him, holding the roses like a new born child and he notices Nathan scowling in the corner as you prepare them in a vase.
“Thought you weren’t into dating?” Nathan spits at you.
You smile at him, before glancing at Bucky with a smirk.
“I’m into older guys.”
Oh - you’d pay for that.
This is adorable!!
Thank you! So glad you enjoyed!
Lloyd Hansen
ONE-SHOTS
even satan used to be an angel (18+)
Bucky Barnes as Text Posts 10/?