i’m so obsessed with catws!bucky you have no idea | note: please be aware of the authors’ warnings before reading. fics include canon tw’s like: violence, death, grief. torture and ptsd. some fics have 18+ content so minors please DNI.
part one | part two | part three | main masterlist | also check my latest list: matt murdock pt 2
SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS
the blade and the crown • knight!bucky barnes x queen!reader
↳ by @fandoms-writings (smut, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, secret relationship)
avoidance | chaos | strangers | power • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @ultralightpoe (angst, hurt/comfort, tw: ptsd)
illicit affairs • biker!bucky barnes x stark!reader
↳ by @auroralwriting (enemies to lovers, age gap, angst, gangs)
between a dream | part two | part three • tws!bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @bcksbarnes (angst, comfort, fluff)
before i could say it • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @fawniswriting (angst, fluff, insecure!bucky)
lessons in lovemaking • bucky barnes x blackwidow!reader
Sometimes I think about how genuine Bucky and Steve’s friendship is and how much Bucky must have loved Steve because just think about it. Bucky was very intelligent and excellent in school, he was a great athlete, he was attractive, he had everything to be one of those guys that are total assholes specially in times like the 40’s. Like, let’s be for real. In real life, people that have all those characteristics that pre-war Bucky had are not always the nicest, or at least, they don’t become best friends of people like Steve. Steve who had countless diseases, who was not very appealing to girls, who would always be ignored or taken for granted.
But Bucky did.
He became Steve’s best friend. He was always there since they were just little kids and as he grew bigger and noticed that his best friend didn’t so much, he still was always there. He always took care of him.
And maybe I like over analyzing his character so much, but that just made me think of what a great fucking person Bucky Barnes had to be to be considered by CAPTAIN AMERICA his best friend.
Even after all those years, even after Hydra, even after the serum, when Steve found out that Bucky was alive the first thing he wanted to do was to save him. And in Civil War he fought his own teammates and went against the government just for him.
Steve thought Bucky was worth it because Bucky was the first to think he was worth it.
Summary: You agreed to one night, but Bucky has other plans, making it clear he’s going to keep you—and he wants you carrying his baby.
Pairings : Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Note : non-consensual behavior, forced pregnancy
The air in the room is heavy, thick with unspoken tension. Bucky stands in the doorway, his massive frame dominating the space, eyes dark and predatory. He’s watching you, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. It’s unsettling how calm he is, like he’s got all the time in the world. Like he knows exactly how this is going to play out.
“Why you standin’ over there like you got a choice, doll?” His voice is low, gravelly, and it hits you straight in the chest. “C’mere.”
You hesitate, trying to remember the rules you both set. One night. That’s it. But the look in his eyes says different. There’s no way you’re walking out of here without something much heavier hanging over you—without him making sure his mark on you is permanent.
“I said, come here,” Bucky’s tone darkens, a rough edge creeping in, and your body reacts before your brain does, your feet moving toward him. His metal arm reaches out, pulling you flush against his chest, and fuck, the heat coming off him makes your pulse race.
“I’m not letting you go, y’know that, right?” His breath is hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “This ain’t some casual thing. You’re mine. And I’m gonna make sure you know it.”
His hand slides down your back, rough fingertips brushing against the bare skin under your shirt, making you shiver. He smirks when he feels it, gripping your waist harder, like he owns every inch of you. In his mind, he does.
“Bucky,” you whisper, your voice trembling.
“Shh,” he growls, his lips brushing against your neck. “I’m gonna take my time with you. Make sure it sticks this time. You’re not walkin’ outta here without somethin’ of mine.”
You can feel the power in his body as he presses against you, the steel in his grip, and the raw desire pouring off him in waves. You try to push back, but his grip tightens, his metal hand circling around your throat—enough to hurt, enough to remind you who’s in charge.
“You agreed to one night,” he whispers, lips dragging over your skin, teasing. “But I’m not a man of half-measures, sweetheart. You’re not leaving here until I’ve put a baby in you. Until I know I’ve claimed you for good.”
Your heart pounds, his words sinking deep into your bones.
“You... you don’t have to—” you start, but he cuts you off with a dark chuckle.
“Don’t gotta do a damn thing. But I want to.” His lips curl into a smirk, and he lifts you off the ground like you weigh nothing, carrying you to the bed. The room spins for a second, and then you’re beneath him, pinned by his weight, his hands already working to pull your clothes off, rough and demanding.
His lips crash into yours, claiming, devouring, and you can’t help but moan into the kiss as his tongue pushes past your lips. His hands grip the waistband of your jeans, yanking them down without a care, shredding any barriers between you.
“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growls, running his hands over your now-bare thighs, squeezing, as if memorizing the shape of you. “Gonna ruin you, doll. Gonna make sure you never forget who you belong to.”
You’re panting, barely able to think straight as his mouth trails down your body, his breath hot against your skin. His metal arm holds you in place, cold against the burning heat coursing through you, while his other hand grips your thighs, spreading them apart like it’s his goddamn right.
“You like this, don’t you?” he teases, voice dripping with that rough, dominant tone. “You like the way I fuckin’ own you.”
His fingers tease you for only a second before he thrusts them inside, rough and unrelenting, stretching you out in a way that makes you arch your back, a cry ripping from your throat.
“Bucky!”
“That’s right, baby,” he smirks, his fingers working faster, deeper, curling inside you just to hear you scream again. “You’re fuckin’ mine.”
He pulls his fingers out and replaces them with himself, pushing into you with a rough, demanding thrust that has you seeing stars. Every muscle in his body is taut, coiled with tension, and you can feel how fucking hungry he is for you. The pace is slow at first, teasing, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he loses control.
“You think I’m gonna let you go after this?” he growls, his hips snapping against yours, hard and rough. “Nah, baby. You’re stuck with me. Gonna fill you up until you’re pregnant. You’re gonna carry my kid, and I’m gonna make sure of it.”
His words send a fresh wave of heat crashing through you, and you can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips, the way your body responds to his every move. He’s relentless, his pace brutal, pounding into you like it’s the only thing that matters, and in this moment, it is.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice raw with desire. “So tight. You’re gonna take every fuckin’ inch of me, and you’re gonna thank me when I’m done.”
You can barely breathe, barely think as he keeps thrusting into you, harder, deeper, making sure you feel every inch of him. He leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear.
“I’m gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna make you mine in every fuckin’ way. You’re gonna carry my kid, and you’re gonna love every second of it.”
You can feel yourself unraveling beneath him, your body tightening around him as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic, desperate. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock. Let me feel you fall apart.”
You shatter beneath him, your body convulsing as pleasure crashes over you like a wave, and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. He just keeps fucking you, riding you through your orgasm, determined to make this last.
When he finally lets go, he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you, and you can feel the hot rush of his release as he fills you.
“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice rough and breathless. “Now you’re mine. And you’re not going anywhere.”
Pairing: post-retirement!Steve Rogers x Reader
CW: None. It’s just fluff
Notes: This is just a small writing exercise of sorts cuz I’ve been struggling with writer's block for a while now. Hope you enjoy. This has nothing to do with the song, btw. 700 words.
♫ forever - the little dippers
The cabin is in the middle of nowhere, which is exactly where you and Steve wanted to be. It's not much— just a cozy fireplace, a loft bedroom and a porch that overlooks a frozen lake, miles and miles from any other people. No electricity, no running water, no cell service. Just you and the silence. Comes off as the perfect setting for a horror movie but it’s ridiculous to fear anything with Steve right there with you.
"You're supposed to be chopping wood," you call from the porch, watching him struggle to use an axe with his thick gloves
"I am chopping wood!" He swings again, and the axe buries itself in the log off center with a resounding crack. The log splits unevenly, and a piece flies off into the snow. Steve yanks the axe free and glares at it. "I should have just used my hands." he mutters, his words carrying well in the still air.
“You’re the one who said you wanted an ordinary life where you do things like ordinary people.” you remind him.
Steve stops glaring at the axe and looks at you. His expression softens.
The memory of the day you met Steve is still fresh in your mind, as if it happened only yesterday. You’d been hurrying into SHIELD HQ for your first day of work, already late and the sugary nightmare that you stood twenty minutes in line for at the nearby coffee shop already eating though it’s paper cup. You collided into Steve in the antrum and spilled your vanilla double shot caramel ribbon crunch with extra whipped cream all over his three hundred dollar shirt.
He'd introduced himself then— Captain America, though he'd only said "I’m Steve" as if he was just Steve from accounting— and walked you to your new office, coffee stain spreading across his chest like a watercolor map. He'd asked about your background, your interests, whether you'd found the good vending machine yet (third floor, east wing). By the time you reached your door, you'd forgotten to be nervous.
It wasn't until later that you learned Steve's laugh is a rare thing. That he didn't usually walk new recruits to their offices, didn't usually ask about their lives unless there was a tactical reason. That he'd singled you out for some reason apparently. Of course, it all became clear when he asked you out to the movies about a month later.
You watch him for a moment longer from your place on the porch, then decide to go to him, the soft snow shifting beneath your boots. He's wearing a thick coat, gloves, and a lopsided wool hat Bucky sent him for Christmas (allegedly, Bucky knit it himself. He wouldn't admit to it but Sam insists he did). Steve looks so cozy and domestic that it makes you want to start kissing him and never stop.
So you do. You rise up on your toes, wrap your hands around his scarf, and pull his mouth down to yours. He tastes like coffee and his lips are chapped from the cold. It’s perfect.
"What was that for?" he asks when you pull back.
"Do I need a reason?"
"No." He grins, and it transforms his face, makes him look younger, lighter. "No, I guess you don't. But keep kissing me like that and I’ll chop all the wood you want."
You look back at his less-than-impressive pile. “You haven’t chopped any.”
Steve frowns. “I’m getting to it.”
“Maybe later.” You take the axe from his hand and set it aside. "Come inside. I'll make dinner."
"What are we having?"
"Stew. And bread, if I can get the oven going."
"Haven’t you used it like twenty times?" Steve asks.
"And I've almost burned the cabin down at least fifteen of those times." you point out.
Steve laughs, deep and warm, and pulls you against his chest. His arms wrap around you and you press your face into his coat and breathe him in— he smells of clean snow, wood smoke and home. This is what peace feels like, you realize.
side by side with the ref! i used the grid method for sketching and blocking out everything. which apparently i should be doing more because it made this whole process way easier!
