Bucky’s Bklyn Doll

“No way!

“Oh my God!”

“That’s your Pop Pop?”

Rosie groans. “Unfortunately.”

Emma holds up a photograph. “Your Nana was gorgeous. And your Pop Pop—”

“Don’t say it.”

“Pop Pop was HOT!”

“Eww!”

Emma cackles as Rosie snatches the photo.

There, frozen in time, is twenty-eight years old James Buchanan Barnes.

Dark hair falling into his eyes, rolled sleeves, a dangerous smile.

Emma flips to another page, then another, and then another: Bucky carrying you piggyback down a Brooklyn street. Bucky kissing your cheek at Coney Island. Bucky holding you against his side while staring at the camera.

Emma whistles. “Your Pop Pop had game.”

Rosie looks physically ill.

Five minutes later both girls come thundering downstairs. You’re in the kitchen making cookies. Emma drops an album onto the table.

“We need a story.”

“Oh is that so?”

“Why does Rosie’s Pop Pop look like he belongs on the cover of some romance novel?”

Behind you comes a familiar voice.

“I like this girl.”

Bucky shuffles into the kitchen. Seventy-eight years old, silver haired, still broad shouldered, with laugh lines around his bright blue eyes. Reading glasses are hanging from the collar of his shirt. He’s still as handsome as ever, still managing to make your stomach flutter after all these decades.

He steals a cookie. You smack his hand. He steals a second one anyway.

“Traitor,” Rosie mutters.

Bucky settles into a chair. “Alright. Tell you a story.”

Both girls immediately sit. One story devolves into another and so on, immediately becoming the “Pop Pop Tells Stories About Nana Hour.”

Bucky is halfway through explaining how he once drove two hours to Long Island because he heard you casually mention liking a specific pie from a bakery when realization washes over Emma’s face.

Emma looks at the picture of Bucky and then at Rosie. “I get why you have so many aunts and uncles now. Pop Pop was down bad!”

Rosie shrieks in horror and covers her ears with her hands as you and Bucky lose composure.

“She’s not wrong. And still am,” Bucky agrees. “That’s how I hurt my hip.”

You swat his arm, your cheeks burning. “James! The children!”

“What?” Bucky replies incredulously. “We’re married. It’s not like the kids came by stork.”

Rosie has buried her face in her hands. This is the worst day of her life.

Then Emma delivers the killing blow.

She points toward a framed wedding photo sitting on a nearby shelf.

“I mean look at that picture. That’s not a man looking at a woman.”

“Emma, stop,” Roșie pleads.

“That’s a man looking at a winning lottery ticket.”

Bucky is absolutely delighted.

“See? Smart girl.”

And then, because Bucky Barnes has never met a situation he couldn’t make more embarrassing, he reaches over and slips an arm around your shoulders. He is still so in love with you after all these years.

“Your Nana’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Drabble 9 - End of the World Rating: Explicit

The world was ending. Again. Bucky didn’t care.

He’d booked the lakeside cabin to spend this weekend with you six months ago. The apocalypse could wait.

His phone kept buzzing. 

Bucky dipped his head, tongue dragging slow and filthy through your soaked folds, sucking your clit until your back arched.

“Doomsday can wait until Monday. I’m busy," he murmured against your cunt, pushing two thick metal fingers inside you. You shattered with a cry.

Bucky lapped up every drop, drawing out your orgasm until you were sobbing. His belt clinked open.

“Good girl, now turn over, we’ve got all weekend.”

🚫

That's all the General Audience drabbles for today!

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Drabble #1 - Hope Rating: General Audiences 

The battle ended without fanfare. No portal in the sky, no impossible odds, no incursions. The multiverse was safe. 

Weeks later Bucky was at an animal shelter, standing in front of a white kitten in the cage.

Retirement wasn’t what he’d expected. He imagined boredom, restlessness. His days became wonderfully ordinary: coffee, aimless walks, reading, sitting with Alpine on the balcony, watching the sunset.

He started imagining a different future: go back to school, reelection.

Perhaps, settle down, start a family.   

It felt unbelievable. The universe had stopped asking from him or taking from him. 

Bucky was allowed to live.

🚫

Drabble #2 - Shots Fired Rating: General Audiences

"This is stupid!" Sam yelled, waving his gun in the air.

"The games the game." Bucky chuffed with a smirk.

"You're the one who suggested this." Yelena chuckled alongside Bucky.

"Yeah a nice normal game of Lazer tag. Not Lazer tag with the world's best assassin!" Sam continued.

"Look man," Joaquin huffed as he joined Sam's side, "Maybe we just call it quits, we've gone 5 rounds, we keep losing."

"No we go again." Sam replied sternly, pointing at Bucky with narrowed eyes, "You, left hand only."

"Fine by me." Bucky grinned before jogging back into the darkened zone laughing.

🚫

Drabble #3 – Do This All Day? Rating: General Audiences

Sam laughed once humorless. “Trust? Don’t start with me on trust, Buck. I had to hear about your new team from the evening news.”

“That’s not what happened.” Bucky groaned

“No? ’Cause it sure as hell felt like it.” Sam's tone cold.

Bucky stepped closer, jaw tight. “They have information. Information that can help.”

Sam opened his mouth, anger ready.

Another voice beat him to it.

“You two gonna do this all day?”

Everything in Bucky locked up. He turned too fast, breath catching painfully.

Steve stood there, steady and impossible.

For one stunned second, Bucky only stared. Disbelieving.

“Steve?”

🚫

Drabble #4 - Doomsday, Declined Rating: General Audiences

Bucky is trying, with effort, to understand a tax-credit rider. It’s not going well, but it is going privately, which seems important.

You’re halfway through explaining depreciation when his phone rings.

YELENA BELOVA

Decline.

Again.

Decline.

YELENA: Stop being dramatic. Is only maybe end of world.

Swipe.

SAM: don’t be like this.

His jaw shifts.

Swipe.

DEADPOOL: Winter grandpa, Kevin says assemble.

Swipe.

You lower the bill.

“James.”

“No.”

“Could be important.”

“It’s always important.” Bucky’s phone flips facedown. “I’ve appeared in every MCU phase. The other guy who managed that turned into a tree. Let me legislate in peace.”

🚫

Drabble #5 - Apocalypse Meow Rating: General Audiences

Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Steve, preparing to face the end of the world was familiar. Everything after that was not.

“That was anticlimactic,” Steve said.

“They can’t all be Thanos,” Bucky agreed.

“Hardly worth coming out of retirement. This happen a lot since I left?”

“Fury’s cat’s saved the day before, but it’s a first for Alpine.” After a beat, Bucky added defensively, “She’s still a kitten.”

Kitten or not, her purrs almost drowned out Doom’s booming admiration while he pet her rather than lay waste to the world.

“Come on, Steve. Fight’s back on if I can’t rescue my cat!”

🚫

Drabble #6 - Them Rating: General Audiences

The ozone on his tongue was sharp and growing sharper by the second.

Something was wrong.

More than the battle chaos amidst the ruins of the Stark Expo grounds.

Bucky turned slowly, surveying his surroundings.

Then he saw them.

Each wore his face but not his history. One in a crisp, white uniform from some alternate century, a stillness to him like a wolf that knew every trick in the book and didn’t need to snarl. The other a grizzled wreck: gray at the temples, sleep deprivation tattooed under his eyes. Both sported the arm—his arm, that ugly, magnificent thing.

🚫

Drabble #7 – Tumblr to the Rescue Rating: General Audiences

He was dying. Fine. He'd done it before.

Then the portal opened. Blue. Tumbling. Chaos shaped like small circular portraits of strangers, cats, anime characters, and— unsettlingly— him. Long hair. Short hair. One arm. Two. Smiling, something he didn't remember doing.

One handed him a juice box.

Bucky stared at it. Stared at himself, multiplied, in eras he couldn't fully account for.

"This," announced an icon of a small white blue-eyed cat, "will not happen in Doomsday."

He had no idea what that meant.

Something about the cat felt familiar. He couldn't place it.

He drank the juice box anyway.

🚫

Drabble #8 – Fix It Rating: General Audiences

Bucky sheathed his knife when you walked in. 

“Bucky,” you began softly. “What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna make the writers fix it.”

“Fix what exactly?”

“Everything,” he answered through his teeth. “Like Natasha dying.”

“Bucky…”

“And Steve’s ending.”

“Bucky.”

“And Sam and I being on the outs again.”

“Bucky!” 

He paused to look at you. 

“You can’t fix it,” you whispered. “You’re not supposed to be aware that you’re in a movie, and I shouldn’t even be here.”

He blinked, confused. “Then… what do I do?”

You smiled. “Leave it to the fanfiction writers. They’ll know what to do.”

🚫

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Bucky was good in bed. Everyone in the tower knew that by now because you weren’t exactly quiet. How could you be though? You had never been fucked this good in your life. You’ve truly been missing out. You’re making up for lost time with all those exes of yours and climbing on Bucky every chance you get. It got so bad that Tony actually soundproofed both of your rooms.

Of course, sometimes you didn’t make it to either of your rooms which caused you to be temporarily banned from that area “until further notice”

Bucky actually preferred to have you in one of your rooms, cause then he could see if he could make you scream any louder. One of these days he is actually going to split you in two. At least that’s how it felt.

Today was no different. Bucky had you faced down on the mattress, relentlessly pounding into you. His fingertips gripping your hips so hard they were surely going to leave permanent dents.

You were boneless. Sprawled over the mattress, your ass only now slightly in the air since your knees gave out. You were gone. As far as you were concerned right now, you were in space due to how many stars you were seeing. All you could do was moan and scream and let out the occasional heavy breath.

The soundproof system Tony built worked for the ears of the people on the outside. But there was a slight flaw. Some people just don’t think before entering.

You were too lost in pleasure to even process what was happening other than the feeling of Bucky’s thick, long cock buried deep between your thighs but you felt him slow down.

"OH MY GOD!" the intruder yelled.

“Can I help you?” you heard Bucky’s deep voice say with a tinge of irritation laced in it. You felt a cool piece of fabric get draped over your sweaty bare skin and a hand placed gently on your lower back to keep it from moving.

“Can you lock the door?” you heard the other person say but you still couldn’t tell who.

“The door was locked!”

“Bucky,” you whined, moving your hips against him.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m here,” he whispered, his other hand reaching to gently stroke your hair. His head snaps to the intruder, “Get out, Wilson!”

“You two need to calm down,” he said before rushing out the door and slamming it behind him.

“Now” he started as he removed the sheet. He flipped you over onto your back and hovered over you, “Where were we?”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you. Bucky let out a deep chuckle at your neediness.