Love it
How would civil war Bucky react if he came home to find his s/o singing their baby to sleep?
Pairing: Dad!Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Fluff
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"That'll be 42 dollars."
Bucky smiles softly at Alina, the elderly woman patiently waits as he searches for his wallet. While he's ruffling through his front pocket, she reaches under the counter and grabs a colorful reading book.
She boldly places it in in his bag beside your snacks and the teething ring, judging by the frayed binding and Romanian lettering, he can tell its probably one that been passed down through her family.
"Alina-"
She huffs and snatches his money from his gloved hands, she plucks a dollar out of the pile and puts the rest between the pages of the book.
"Aw you know I cant-"
The tiny woman tilts her head back, her dark brown eyes daring him to finish his protest.
"Thank you," Bucky sheepishly finishes.
"You're welcome, James." She beams, her wrinkled cheeks puffing out. Her face drops and she grabs the front of his shirt, yanking him down to her face. "Dont come back without the baby or I'll hurt you." She holds up her tiny fist and shakes it, her bright eyes narrowing at him.
Alina swears she loves her more than the both of you and sometimes Bucky thinks she might be right.
Bucky has to bite his cheek to hold back a laugh. Since he's moved his little family to this town, he's been 'threatened' by Alina more times than he count.
She loves to boss him around and she's always sliding extras into his bags, refusing to take more than a dollar or two from him. But she will make him fix the leaky sink in the back or replace a gutter.
Bucky quickly grabs his bag after the granite counter, taking a few steps back, reassuring her that he would bring her down tomorrow.
"Good. Hate to kick your ass in front of your family James. You have a good day son."
Exiting the small store, he puts his cap over his head, shielding his eyes from the blinding afternoon sun. Laughter bubbling in his chest, he shakes his head wondering how a renowned assassin with a metal arm manages to get bossed around by a 5'1" elderly woman every time he goes into her shop.
Ducking his head, he shoves one hand in his pocket, humming softly under his breath as he navigates the crowded street. He'll be home in five minutes and he can't wait.
Some days he doesn't know how he got so lucky to find you, but ever since that day you snatched his plum from his hand by accident, he's been smitten by you.
Then you gave him gift after gift. Your heart, your presence, your body and now a sweet chubby baby with your eyes. All things he could never repay, things he never thought he could have. He didn't feel worthy of a normal life until he met you and now-Bucky knows he can have that and so much more.
Bucky climbs the stairs to the apartment, the shopping bag tapping his leg with every step. Happiness settling in his chest, wrapping around him like a thick duvet, crushing and liberating all at once.
Opening the door, a rush of cool air greets him. The smell of warm vanilla and brown sugar fill his nose, he can't remember what his apartment was like before you moved in but now it always smells good, you're everywhere he looks. Your clothes beside his in the closet, your shoes neatly lined up in the hallway, beauty products in the bathroom, family pictures lining the walls. A few of your hair ties in his left pocket. Toys are scattered on the floor.
You're everywhere and he wouldn't have it any other way.
Bucky toes off his shoes, placing his coat on the hook. A faint smile crosses his lips when he hears you singing. Following the sounds of your voice, his smile becomes wider and wider until his cheeks ache.
He knows over a dozen languages yet he can't find the words to describe how happy you make him.
Bucky finds you on the bed, your back against the headboard with the baby bundled in your arms. You're singing a lullaby, your soft voice drifting through the room. Glancing up, your eyes meet and his impossibly wide smile gets a tad bigger.
Knowing how much he cherishes these little moments, you continue to sing the sweet tune while he undresses until he's down to his boxers, folding his clothes, he places them on the dresser. Now that's he's home with his two favorite people, he doesn't plan on leaving anytime soon.
Bucky climbs on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He lays his head on your shoulder and gazes down at his little girl. Tears burn his eyes, he can't believe that she's so perfect, just like her mama.
She looks so much like you, god he hopes every baby you give him is exactly like you. He watches her yawn, her tiny chubby arms stretching above her head, he places his metal finger in her hand and she latches on to it. You swear she's never going to be afraid of his arm.
The song dwindles to a faint whisper as you both watch her fall asleep. You turn your head, your nose bumping into Buckys. Laughing softly, he mumbles sorry before kissing you. It's sweet and tender and passionate and oh when he kisses you like this, you swear you could melt.
Bucky releases you with a pleased sigh, running his knuckles down the curve of your face. "I've been thinking." He starts, his eyes flickering between you and her.
"Really? " You're teasing, you know what he's about to say. Alina already told you about the way he blushed and became flustered a few days ago when she asked him why you weren't pregnant again.
His cheeks tinge a light shade of pink and he swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Yeah. How would you feel if-if we uh..."
You gently place your baby in his arms, smiling when his face lights up. He tucks her into his chest and kisses the top of her head. He's so good with her and you know that he would do anything for the two of you.
"Bucky I'll have as many babies as you want. In fact, we can start trying after my nap," you yawn, putting your arm around him and closing your eyes. Snuggling into his side, you drift off the sleep.
Bucky smiles to himself, envisioning his future with you in a large house filled with children, maybe a cat, or two. He wants it all. A life full of birthday celebrations, anniversaries, graduations, date nights, lazy weekends spent on the couch with you sleeping on his chest.
He can't wait.
i bring you chris and sebastian thinking about pussy
this is the money dog, repost in the next 24 hours and money will come your way!!
What do you think about exhibition kink ? And who do you think would have it, Buck or Steve?
👀
Pairing: Personal trainer/beefy Steve x reader
Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI, Steve is 6'4, praise kink, exhibition kink, degradation kink
A/N: As always do not copy, translate, rewrite or repost my works.
Co-owner of the infamous gym, the Brooklyn 107th and part-time boxer Steve has a huge exhibitionism kink.
A few weeks ago, he had the windows of his gym covered with a transparent plastic film that allows for his customers to work out without being seen by people on the street.
At least that's what he told everyone.
Really it's because he loves to fuck you in front of the ceiling to floor glass windows during your personal sessions.
He adored your body the second you stepped into his gym, asking if he could help you get in shape. He never offered personal training sessions until you.
And you were the only one who received his very special attention.
Your training sessions started off tame but the more he touched you, the more he craved you.
Soon your one-on-one sessions began to happen later and later because he wanted to spend time alone with you.
You made him nearly feral every time you worked out together. He couldn't stop thinking about all the filthy things he wanted to do to you.
The first time you softly grunted, the sound nearly sent him over the edge. He spent the entire hour hiding how hard he was.
Steve waited until you were in the parking lot before locking the doors, barely able to control himself before he reached the showers. His hand wrapped around his aching cock as he thought about how soft you felt as he helped you squat.
At night he dreamed about those sexy little grunts you made when you boxed or lifted weights, only in his mind you were making them because of him.
Steve tried to maintain his professionalism until one day he was in the middle of stretching your legs and he saw the wet spot forming on the crotch of your leggings.
His heart raced at the thought of you being as affected as he was.
You couldn't even feel embarrassed because he stared at it, at you with such lust you almost came right there on the yoga mat.
His eyes drifted up to your face and he bit his bottom lip as he gazed at you. Then his lips curled into a wide smirk. "Y'know I really should stretch all of you sweetheart."
Your hands slip, the pristine glass smudged by your sweat.
“God, please Steve, fuck fuck fuck fuck, I can’t.” The glass fogs up from your harsh, frantic pants, the condensation growing with each sob ripped from your throat. “Pleaseplease Steve.”
Steve growls in your ear, the feral sound making you whimper in response, another please falling from your lip.
“You can take it, you’re okay, take it, sweetheart.” Steve grits his teeth, his damp blonde hair plastered to his forehead. He’s never been in such a tight wet pussy, you have to take it because he can’t get enough of you.
You lean forward, pushing your forearms flat on the window, and pull yourself up on your tiptoes. No, you can’t, you can’t take anymore. It’s too good and fuuuck you can’t, you just need-Taking in a deep breath, you cry out in relief when your swollen cunt slides to the tip of his throbbing cock.
Your head lolls back and your pussy clenches down when you see his dark blue eyes glaring at you. Oh please, Steve. You thought you couldn’t get any wetter until you had 6’4 of pure tatted muscles behind you, his deep voice ringing in your ear “you better not run again sweetheart, take this cock like a big girl before I fuck you stupid.“
His wrapped hands grab your waist, his scarred, calloused fingertips dig into the soft dips of your hips, and he drops you back on his cock.
Pleasure bursts through your body so hard and fast, your legs collapse, your hands sliding down the window as you keen. Steve laughs when you wail his name, the thin high cries with each thrust making his cock even harder. One large, thick arm wraps around your waist and he pushes your body into the glass.
Steve’s hip snaps into yours over and over, the salacious sound echoing through the nearly empty gym. He slams his hand on the glass and grabs your chin with the other. Your dazed eyes rake over the busy street. The thin pane of glass is the only thing separating your naked body from the lunchtime rush of people outside.
“Look at them,” he pants in your ear, “wonder if they know what a cockdrunk little slut you are for me. My sweet little slut, so fucking good for me. “
Steve knows you love it when he talks to you like this, making you take every thick inch and praising you for doing so good. Your greedy pussy clamping down on him tighter and tighter with each filthy praise.
He slides his fingers down to your clit and rubs your aching bundle of nerves so softly, a sharp contrast to the way he’s pounding into your cunt.
“Want me to open one of the windows and let them see how good you are, taking my cock like the good fucking girl you are. You want that, sweetheart?”
You feel his deep laughter on your skin when you moan in response, too far gone to form coherent words. You’ll let him fuck you in the middle of the ring before his next match if he keeps doing that. More broken pleases, for him to stop, go deeper, just please Steve. Fuck you, don’t know what you want, only that it’s too much and you want more.
“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s how you take my cock, so fucking proud of you sweetheart, now let’s-“ Steve places his hand on your back and forces you into an arch and he hits a patch just inside your pussy and you see stars.
The windows rattle when you slap your hands on them, you don’t notice the people turning their heads in your direction, too overwhelmed by the sweltering heat blazing through your belly, the knot fraying and unraveling as you sob.
His name a chant on your tongue as you come hard, so hard it nearly hurts.
“Good girl,” he praises, groaning when your walls flutter around him. “That’s my girl.”
You slump against the cool glass as Steve continues to fuck you, his hips slapping into yours two, three more times before warmth coats your spasming walls. He kisses along the back of your neck, murmuring more praises as he pulls your trembling body from the window.
“Good warm-up sweetheart.” He nips your shoulder, his hands sliding around your belly. “Now it’s time for your cardio.”
FRANK ADLER | GIFTED (2017) | dir. MARC WEBB
I don't know why this is so damn funny
So….today is my birthday, which I already hate, but a few people managed to ruin it even more when I was actually in a decent mood about it. Just know: your writing managed to pull me out of that negative headspace. I hope you are told constantly how wonderful it is. Now, back to your regularly scheduled hoe down
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 🥳🎈🎉❤️ I’m sending a few GIFTs your way:
I’m sorry you had a shit day and people can suck but please know that I am sending you the biggest hug and birthday cake and fun horny energy 🥺❤️
omfg!!!!! 🥰😘🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤
#this is too much to handle
Pictures of Chris I think are hella hot
I am a 37 year old, hufflepuff. Mother of one.. I love all kinds of fandoms!!! But I especially love Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan!!! Ask me about the fandoms I like.
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