goodnight, and good luck

Prompt: Faire la grasse matinée: to sleep in [literal: to make the fat morning]

Summary: A fight carries into a new day; is there any remedy to be found? Bucky Barnes x Reader. 

Word Count: Approx. 2280 words

Warning(s): Mildly suggestive/sensual themes; angst; language. 

Author’s Note: My submission for @cametobuyplums‘s 2000 Followers Celebration Challenge. Congratulations again, love! 

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The taste of anger tangles strangely with the first coffee of the morning, and for a moment, you find yourself staring down into the mug as though expecting to find a neat translation for the bitterness floating somewhere near the surface. You take another sip; no, it’s certainly last night, still stuck somewhere between your teeth. 

A glare across the kitchen – and the space seems to be constricting with the force of shared emotion. Buttressed by long hours of side-by-side solitude, stiff as boards in your bed, the duvet bunched oddly between your two bodies. 

When once a Friday night dipped in wine and moonlight would have led to hours awake, sheets pushed to the floor and those furtive two o’clock kisses you adored so much – now Saturday, a rude one, has pushed its way into being. No luxuriated lie-in today; you’re both up ridiculously early. 

Title: Reunited AO3 Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites​ Summary: He’s finally home…  Warnings: Light smut. Language. Fluff.

Summary: Bucky loved being a firefighter most days. Today was not one of those days. Word Count: 518 Square Filled: Firefighter AU Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Warnings: Alternate Universe, angst, and fluff. Author’s Note: GIF Credit [X] You can also read this on AO3. Written for @star-spangled-bingo​ SSB2020. 

Star Spangled Bingo 2020 Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission.

Being a firefighter was hard work. Harder than anything Bucky had ever done before, harder than he thought it would be, but it was a job he loved. It wasn’t because he suffered from a hero complex, though there were members of the elite team that did. He didn’t do it for the accolades or the adoration that came with the territory. He couldn’t explain it; running into a burning building while others were clamoring to get out. He tried putting it into words, but they never came. He just really loved what he did. Most of the time. 

Today was not one of those days. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 600

Summary: Bucky Barnes is feeling some kind of way.

Warnings: K I S S I N G. Smutty implications.

A/N: LPT – never edit your Asks in markdown, because it will dishonour your ancestors and your very fabric of existence. This was originally for an Ask, but our Lord and Satan Tumblr ate it when I was adding tags. Thank you for your prompt from 84 million years ago and I’m so sorry I forgot your username 🖤 Please don’t send me a prompt, everyone – it’s been a rough year and my word salads are rusty as fuck.

Masterlist in bio!

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This was new, this feeling. A sweetness made slow and a tender kind of seeping feeling thrumming through his skin. Cloudiness cooled and warmed in equal measure, a haze of not quite here, not quite there and a comfort loving delight all the same.

2AM now. Too much mayhem and muddled thoughts passed between the lines of midnight as you watched Bucky stir, burrow, breathe – in, out, slow, slower still, shaky. Simply. A murkiness mounted and moved away, like too many bedclothes gripped between fingers that weren’t quite used to holding things for longer than need be. Let go – let go, it’s easy, it’s sweeter. It’s divine made anew.

“Honey,” your voice softer than a breath and you watched as his lashes eased, flickered, eyes grow open now. A shine in the silver and then the grey of the glowing night. His body broad, honed and grown for violence, a settling sweetness now. Beneath your palms sliding across his face, softening the lines that were etched and whittled away with time.

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Smut, talk of body insecurity

A/N: Requested by an Anon - After what we have seen today! I wonder if it’s possible to write a fic? Like you’re dating him in early stages and never has seen him really naked. And now you struggle because he’s a really fine wine, but you feel insecure. I mean c'mon he’s abs are defined like hell, but your body is more soft and your stretch marks make you feel more uncomfortable. He’s so sweet about it when he recognizes what’s going on with you.

*Requests are Open | Tag List is Open

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“Okay, it’s filming,” you called over to Chris who was poised at the edge of his pool.

“Right, okay, I can do this,” you heard him mumble to himself as he looked back at the water then back at the phone.

Chris had decided to film himself jumping into the pool for his Instagram. Why? You truly had no idea. But you did know it was chilly out and you knew the water would be cool. You didn’t expect him to film his last swim of the year, but you weren’t exactly complaining. While you knew it would probably bring the internet to its breaking point, you and only you, got to see it up close and in person.

You bounced from one leg to the other, trying to stay warm when another cool breeze hit you.

“Hurry up and jump, man,” you called over to him. “It’s chilly out here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you heard him reply.

Dodger barked at him, probably wondering what his buddy was doing.

“Not you rushing me too,” Chris said to his dog.

You sighed, putting your hand on your hip, you were getting tired of waiting. Chris, seeing your face, knew that look. He knew you were getting annoyed. He smiled to himself. Then with an idea he turned his back to the pool, and raising his hands over his head, he bent his knees and launched himself into a backflip, landing perfectly in the water.

You stared at him, open mouthed, as he bobbed to the surface. Dodger ran to the other side of the pool, checking to make sure Chris was okay.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve finds out he has a daddy kink.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Daddy kink, mirror sex, post-mission sex, unprotected sex… cough syrup avoidance because that shit tastes like gasoline and I won’t hear any different.

A/N: Channeling my inner necromancer and bringing a fic back from the dead! This fic was originally posted last year, around November, I think. I found it again after doing a deep dive through my deleted folder and decided to bring it back. Heads up: this isn’t the companion piece to Never Have I Ever. That will come later. For now, enjoy this story (again, if you also enjoyed it the first time!) and let me know what you think! Validate me pls ok byeeeeee love you :)

Masterlist pinned on my blog or search #gigi writes!

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“Drink it.”

“No.”

“Honey.”

“No.”

Steve’s eyes narrow at you, his grip on the cough syrup bottle tightening just so. “You have to drink it or you won’t get better.”

“Excuse me,” the words sound weird, choked up thanks to all the mucus lodged in your lungs. You hate being sick. “Weren’t you the one who carried around a pack of cigarettes for years because they helped with asthma? Don’t think I should take medical advice from you.”

Steve flushes pink, thrusting the bottle into your face where you’re cuddled on the couch.

“But daddy,” you whine, bottom lip jutted in a pout. “It tastes gross.”

Steve’s never been good at keeping a poker face, at least not with you, and not when it matters. It absolutely matters now, with his lips parted around a silent exhale, eyes widening just so.

He caught the bait.

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve finally gets to see your healed tattoo. Among other things.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Smutty smut smut, fellas! No minors. Oral sex (F receiving), praise kink, gentle humiliation kink if you squint til you’re almost blind.

A/N: I don’t know, blame Chris Evans. Let me know if you like it! :) x

Masterlist is pinned on my blog!

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In the end, the way it happens is more of a gradual buildup than the scorching blaze of fire you thought you’d end up in.

It’s sometime after the party ends and right before you find yourself tangled in Steve Rogers’ bedsheets that you have a normal conversation about it. Or, at least, you try to.

Of course, it doesn’t start out that way.

Most situations like this rarely do.

Chris Evans

via Insta Stories, 10.6.20

Very masochistic sketches