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sarahowritesostucky · 2 days

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Happy Little Family

📖"Taking Back What's His"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6170

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, rape, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere, kid fic

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the man who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

This chapter: You try one last, desperate ploy to escape, but it doesn't exactly work out. And James hasn't come alone. The next time you wake up, you're a long way from home.

Nickname Dictionary: vorishka = "little thief" mamochka = "mommy/little mother" kotenok= "kitty/kitten" omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega omegechka = (made up) "little omega" krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one" pchelka = "little bee"

2. Taking Back What's His

(Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!)

He says something to you, after. Words that might as well be in his native Russian, for how well you take them in. But they're soft, and reassuring—he’s pleased. His body weight moves off the bed.

When you finally open your eyes and blink up at the ceiling, it’s the softest baby pink all around the edges, like smoke curling into your vision. It’s nice, peaceful. Feels good-all-over in that way that painkillers do. You haven’t experienced it since the last time you had sex with an alpha.

Which James unfortunately seems to have figured out was with him, almost two years ago.

“Oh, kotenok, You haven’t been fucking anybody.”

You’re still in the afterglow, mind muzzy, all of your previous panic and fear blunted near to the point of erasure with how nice it feels to float, when you hear James’ pleased chuckle from where he’s getting dressed. He comes back and leans over you. “Hey Sweetheart. Feeling good?”

You frown at him, though it takes a concerted effort to make any expression of displeasure. You want him to know you aren’t happy, that this state he’s fucked you into isn’t real. You want to slap that smug fucking look right off his face. All you manage to come up with is a pouty little “no" that makes James laugh.

“Come here.” He fixes your dress, then helps you up off the bed. He seems to be checking to make sure you’re steady on your feet before he lets you stand on your own. “You good?”

“M’fine.” He knows you too well, knows how intense it can be for you, how strongly you react to him. You avoid his knowing gaze. You’re not completely useless like this. You can still remember everything that’s going on, can still remember June. “Please,” you say again, trying to change the tone of your voice. “Let me give her to Hilde.”

James rolls his eyes. “Right, right. Your friend across the street.”

“Please James?” You look up at him, pink edges all around his face, so pretty. Goddamn him. “She’ll be safe there.”

Again, something passes through his eyes too quickly for you to identify. It might be annoyance. He sighs, and the look, whatever it was, is gone. “Sure thing, Doll. Babies need a lot of stuff. You might as well pack up what she needs.”

You nod tearfully, going to your closet to grab a bag. He follows close behind, sending a clear message that he’s not planning on letting you out of his sights while you do this. James isn’t stupid, you’ll give him that.

In the nursery, June is happy to see you and wants you to pick her up. You talk to her in a sweet, placating voice as you go around the room grabbing different things that she’ll need and stuffing them in the bag. At this point you know to be grateful for the haze. Even as it tapers off, it’s blunting the sorrow that you know would otherwise have you sobbing and your voice clogging with tears. This way at least, you’re able to keep June thinking everything is alright. This way she isn’t scared.

It’s when you’re crouched beside the changing table, stuffing diapers into the bag with James behind you that you get the idea: Downstairs: the kitchen: in the drawer. Your gun.

You stop moving long enough that James notices. “What’re you doing? Come on.”

You stand back up. Yes. You have to do it. This is the only chance you have at getting out of this and not losing June. You lick your lips nervously before turning back around to face him. “I … have to get her bottles and stuff from downstairs,” you say, hoping that the lingering post-coital haze is enough to keep your true intentions off your face. Your eyes flick up to James, who’s squinting at your tits.

“Bottle?” He starts to smirk, and you glare at him.

“Yes. Asshole. I won’t exactly be around to feed her, now will I?”

His face softens at that and he gives you an apologetic look. “Right. Well go on, then.”

You move for the hallway, realize he’s not following you, and turn back in confusion. He’s beside the crib, holding his hand out for June to touch. Your heart leaps from your spot in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

He arches an eyebrow. “I’m waiting right here until you come back upstairs,” he says, his message clear.

Your pulse picks up, but you force yourself to nod. You’re useless without that gun. You have to get to it. He narrows his eyes at you while June giggles and reaches for his wiggling fingers. “No games.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, and turn and head for the stairs.

It’s pure torture to move at a casual speed, especially as your mind is clearing and the fearful emotions returning. In the downstairs hallway, you check once over your shoulder that James hasn’t followed you, then pick up your pace, hurrying into the kitchen and heading straight for the drawer where you keep the gun.

Your eyes tear up as you maneuver past the digital lock that you installed for nothing. June’s still crawling. She never even got old enough to toddle over here. You press the code into the keypad, cringing when it does its quiet little two-tone ‘beep’ at being unlocked. You wait, heart in your throat until you hear the mechanism moving, then rip open the drawer.

Your heart stops and your brain freezes and all you can think is: No. No, no no—

“Looking for this?”

You whirl around, and there he is: standing on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the sink as he holds your only weapon in his hands.

His face is relaxed, Goddamn him, as he pretends to ignore your horror and instead holds the gun up to flippantly inspect it. “I have to say, Doll, I’m impressed. I would’ve expected some puny girl gun. Ruger, Derringer. But this?” He turns the Skorpion in his hands, and chuckles softly when he sees the cartridge. “Jesus. You really wanted to blow a hole in somebody, didn’t you?” His eyes finally drag up to you, the hand he’s holding the gun with dropping down by his side as he starts walking over, slowly, step by step, eyes boring into you with a growing anger.

Oh shit. Dread curls in your gut but you’re frozen. Bolting now wouldn’t even get you to the staircase. He presses in close, pinning you against the countertop. He brings the gun up and nudges your jaw with it, leaning in and breathing in your face, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find it, vorishka?”[little thief]

He’s taunting you with your own failure, and you can’t stop the whimper that breaks from your throat at having your one and only plan foiled so pathetically easily. “James,” you plead, “I didn’t—”

“Shh sh sh. None of that, now.” He’s speaking softly, sweetly, but he’s furious. He drags his lips over your cheek and the barrel of the gun you stole from him over the other. “So what was the plan? How were you going to kill me with my own gun? Pop upstairs and shoot up the nursery?”

“N-no.”

“Ah. Right. You’re smarter than that. You would’ve waited for me to come down and see what the fuck was taking you so long, or put it in the duffle and waited until we dropped the whelp off at the neighbors. Is that it?"

You sniffle and nod, angry at him for being such an all-knowing asshole. “You can’t hold that against me,” you say, trying to defend yourself.

He nods thoughtfully. “Hmm. Yes, I suppose you’re right. I can’t blame you for that.” Your shoulders start to relax, that is until he pulls back to glare at you and holds the gun to you again, this time pointing it right underneath your chin. He looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “But do you know what I can hold against you, Little thief?” Your face pinches in fear, sure that you’re about to be shot, and he digs the muzzle cruelly into your skin, forcing you to look at him. “The fact that that pup up there is ten months old, and I’ve never even fucking seen her.”

Your eyes widen as you realize: he knows. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but he beats you to it.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell she’s mine?”

“James,”

“All this time!” he hisses, hurt lancing through his features. “You kept her from me! What gives you the right?”

“I—I didn’t—”

He growls and pushes away from you, several steps back, glaring. “Nothing, is the answer you’re looking for. You had no right to do that.”

You try to edge to the side, but freeze when he straightens his arm and points the gun right at you. “James, wait …”

He aims it at your face, but then lowers it for a center mass shot, which is what really convinces you you’re about to die. “Say goodbye, mamochka,” he says, with steely eyes and his finger curling over the trigger.

It’s a submachine gun that fires in three shot bursts, or fully automatic. Either way, you know you’re about to be riddled with bullets, so you start to hyperventilate. It’s an embarrassing reaction, but at least you have the dignity of knowing what your last words on this earth would’ve been. “Don’t hurt her,” you gasp.

His eyes fill with rage and he pulls the trigger.

… Nothing happens, but you’re bracing so hard that it takes you a full two or three seconds to realize it. Then, when you do realize it, and you see James standing there looking grim but completely unsurprised that you haven’t been shot, all of the breath rushes out of your lungs. You feel like you’re about to faint, which is apparently what he’s waiting for.

He ejects the empty magazine, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really thought I’d do it, didn’t you?” He takes a step forward, but pauses when you flinch back. “What the hell have you convinced yourself that I am?”

You step back again when he moves. “Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t.”

“Don’t, don’t,” he whispers, mocking you. “Don’t what? Don’t take back what’s mine? The mother of my pup? A pup I didn’t get to see grow or come into this world?” Your breath hitches with emotion and he doesn’t miss it, the bastard. “Yeah,” he says darkly. “You robbed me of that. But I’ll get over it, don’t worry.” He leers up and down your body in its flimsy sundress. “I’ll be putting another one in you real soon.”

You see red. Fury sweeps through you and stings your eyes, roars in your ears. You grab the nearest thing to you, which is the edge of the utensils crock on the counter. It spills over and your hand closes around the handle of the meat mallet. You cry out and swing at him, wanting to smash his smug fucking face to smithereens.

“Woah-ho, easy there.” He laughs and takes a surprised step back, as though you’re nothing but a tantruming child. “Stop being so dramatic.”

You growl and lunge for him again, but cut off in a shriek as someone suddenly grabs you from behind. The meat mallet clatters to the floor as you’re hauled back against the hard body of another man. One big arm wraps around your middle, and the other holds a cloth up at your face, pressing it over your mouth. “Mmph!” you yell out, muffled, and get a huge inhale of chlorine-like smell into your lungs for your trouble. You hold your breath and thrash, but it’s less than useless. The person holding you is large and strong. When you try to headbutt him, it doesn't even clip his chin. You bring your hands up to try and claw at the hand holding the cloth over your mouth, but your nails meet metal instead of skin, and you gasp in another inhale of chemicals as you realize who it is. “Mmph!”

James steps up close, smirking fondly as he watches you fighting the urge to inhale. Eventually he tuts and reaches up to cup your cheek. “Shhh, omegechka. Stop. Stop fighting now. It’s all over.”

“Nngh!”

“Just take a deep breath and go to sleep. Everything’ll be alright, I promise. Just relax.” You whimper as you feel yourself running out of air, knowing that your body’s going to force you to draw breath in a second. James leans in and kisses your forehead tenderly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers, just as your vision starts to fade out, “or our daughter.”

The smell of professionally scented, circulating air hits you first, and then the taste of old pennies in your mouth. Then, a gradually increasing sense of awareness of your body in space and time. At first you think you're somewhere very bright, as colors and rainbows dance through your lashes, but the more you blink your eyes open, the more the brightness fades and your vision comes into focus.

And there he is: holding a crystal tumbler and looking like he's been waiting for you to come round. "Well hello there, Sleepyhead,” he says. “Welcome back." He takes a sip of whatever it is he’s drinking, the ice cubes clinking softly against the sides of the glass. He looks totally relaxed.

You sit up straighter in the seat where you’d been slumped, moving your tongue around inside of your dry mouth and trying to remember what happened. And then reality hits you in waves, each one more devastating than the last:

James—He found you.

June—She's not there.

"How're you feeling? Thirsty?"

You blink, dazed, a few lingering specks still floating at the edges of your vision. You look around the room you’re in, clocking your surroundings. Windows, cabin—Shit. You're already on a plane. Pressure builds rapidly at the backs of your eyes as you fight not to cry, thinking of your baby girl left behind, never getting to see her again.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Bucky’s eyes sharpen on you when your stifled sob breaks out and you throw a hand over your mouth. "Steve,” he says, still watching you in concern. “Get her a bottle of water."

“Sure thing, boss.”

And then the worst realization of all: You look over and see the winter fucking soldier walking down the aisle, holding your baby.

They've got June.

Your eyes widen and you make a distressed little ‘meep’ of a sound. “Steve!” you blurt, and he turns to face you. He looks surprised that you’ve spoken directly to him. He’s not wearing his usual black mask, but he still looks huge and intimidating, and it’s like seeing a wild animal right next to your baby—dangerous, wrong. Your mouth works uselessly as you stare at his hands on June’s body: one supporting her head, and the metal one scooped under her butt. You see her back rise and fall steadily through her bumblebee onesie and you realize that she’s asleep. “I-is she okay?” you ask, heart in your throat.

Steve’s eyes narrow at you, but he nods curtly. “She’s fine.”

Across from you, James scoffs, drawing your attention back to him. “He’s going to put her down. There’s a crib in the back. She’ll be fine,” he says, when he sees you stiffen in protest. “You and I have some catching up to do, vorishka.”

“I thought we did that back in my bedroom,” you snap.

“You still want the water?” Steve asks.

“That’s okay.” Bucky keeps his eyes on you. “I’ll take care of her. You just stay back there with pchelka while she sleeps.”

Steve nods, and you can’t help yourself. “Wait! Please. Please give her to me. Steve?” You sit forward with your arms outstretched, but can only watch helplessly as the other man obeys Bucky and ignores you, disappearing back into the next section of the plane. Bastard never did like you.

“She’ll be fine,” Bucky assures you. “Just sit back and relax. We won’t be in the air for too long.”

You hate it, but you do sit back in the chair. James won’t hurt her. You know that. Especially now that you know he knows. You look around the cabin, taking in the wide, leather seats and gleaming wood finishes. There’s a couch, tv, a bar. A fucking electric fireplace. It's the sort of luxury you used to go starry-eyed over; incredibly rich men, fat or old or ugly, tripping all over themselves to spoil you.

… Only, James was never any of those things.

“This is your plane?” you ask, dragging your hand over the arm of your seat.

James smirks. “What? You thought I’d kidnap you and then fly commercial?”

You purse your lips at his joke. “I guess not.” You relax back, trying to get your bearings. It is bad news that you’re already on a plane with him. You’ll be landing at his private airstrip at the Siberia compound, which gives you no middle ground to run. You bite your lip as your thoughts race and you try to think of anything you might be able to do once you get to—

“Stop it,” James says quietly, drawing your attention back to him. He’s giving you a stern look. “You barely got away before, and that was on your own. Now we’ve got our daughter. Anything you try will put her in unnecessary danger and you know that.” He shakes his head, some of that sadness from before creeping back into his eyes. “You’re not leaving me again, omegechka.”

“I’m not?” you echo, stuck in place by his stare, by the memories you share with him, and the fear you have of what he’s planning for your punishment. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m just taking back what’s mine, Sweetheart. You do realize that?” You fail to answer him and his gaze hardens just a little bit. “That’s okay. You’ll see it eventually. This isn’t a bad thing. If you had just stuck around a little longer instead of lying to me and running off, then you would’ve seen it before, and we wouldn’t have to be going through this right now.” He raises his drink to you in a little salute. “You, me, and pchelka? We’re going to be a family.”

You don’t refuse the water he gives you, or the drink that he mixes for you, after. If James wanted to keep you drugged up until reaching Siberia, he certainly could’ve done so without allowing you to wake up on the plane. You’re only conscious right now because he wants you to be. And because you know that, you don’t protest the drink he prepares for you over at the bar. To be honest, a stiff one actually sounds really good right about now.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he hands it over, still unmoored by this drastic shift in circumstances. A few hours ago you’d been safe in your cottage, then suddenly you weren’t. One minute you’re sure you’re about to get a bullet in the face from this man, and the next, he’s got you sipping thousand dollar vodka on his private jet, calmly explaining how he intends to keep you and force you into some twisted form of domestic bliss.

“I had a whole renovation done for her,” he tells you. “Pchelka will have plenty of room to play and grow.”

You frown, hating the idea of your daughter growing up in that cold, Siberian fortress. You don’t care if he’s bought her an indoor waterslide and a herd of ponies. It’s no place for a child. “What does that mean?” you ask grumpily. “That word: chelk—? You keep using it. You can’t just rename my daughter.”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, but he wipes it away fast. “Pchelka means little bee. The outfit you put her in has bees on it.”

“Oh … Right.” You love that set. It’d been another gift at the shower, from Hilde.

“And she’s my daughter too,” James says tightly.

You gulp at the bitterness in his tone, at his eyes boring into you with reproach. It’s silly, but you do feel bad about hurting him in this one way, at least. “Her name is June,” you offer quietly.

His face draws tight with emotion that’s impossible for you to decipher. Mostly you just sense hurt coming off of him, tingeing his scent and making it into something mournful and awful. He stares at you for a long time. “You made me think you’d lost it,” he eventually whispers. “How could you do that to me?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not. You’re just sorry that I found you.”

“I saw you kill people, James!” you cry. “I saw who you really are. I couldn’t stay. Not after that.”

His mouth ticks up at the corners. “Oh, Sweetheart. You’ve got no idea who I am, or what I’ve done for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes gleam and he lifts his drink, tipping back the last of it. “Do you even remember where we met?”

You frown. “Of course.” You’d met him on a yacht, off the coast of Greece. At a party you’d been paid to attend as one of a flock of similarly hired ‘pretty girls’. Five hundred bucks just to sit around and drink cocktails for a few hours and make whoever owned the yacht look like a successful playboy. James had taken one look at you and made it his mission to charm you off of that boat with him. And you’d fallen for it, hook line and sinker. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You don’t know as much as you think you do,” he says disdainfully. “Don’t know how lucky you really are. I saved you.”

You scoff. “You’re no different from those boat guys. You think you’re so special, God’s gift to omegas, I get it.”

“No,” he grits. “You really don’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t know! I know what I saw. All over the floor of your goddamn office. I slipped in it for Christ’s sake!”

“Right, right. The men you saw me kill,” he says, referencing the scene you’d walked in on just before you’d faked your miscarriage and fled. “You were eavesdropping outside the door, weren’t you, Little thief?”

You jut your chin out. “Yes. So what?”

“You know, I’d always assumed you heard the entire conversation. Now I realize I was wrong.”

“What?”

He laughs under his breath—at your expense, you suspect. “Who exactly do you think they were?”

“Your business associates. The same sort of underworld, black market scum as you. Only they didn't work for you. You screwed them over and they were there to collect what you owed them, and you murdered them instead.”

James scoffs and smiles angrily, sticking his tongue into his cheek as he looks away in frustration. "Figures," he mutters.

“What?” you snap. “You’re gonna deny it?”

“I’m not denying anything. But I killed them for you.”

“Oh please. Just stop it. Stop lying! I know what you do for work.”

Granted, you'd been a little slow on the uptake back then, too enamored and swept up in the whirlwind romance with your first Alpha that you hadn’t ever stopped to wonder where his money came from, or where it was he jetted off to “on business” every few days. It’d taken a year for you to piece it together, to see the true magnitude of the enterprise he ran, and how dark it really was.

Sitting in front of you now, he doesn’t deny it, which only bolsters your disdain for him. “I don’t want that in my life,” you hiss. “Arms dealing, drugs, smuggling, mercenaries. And apparently human trafficking as well.”

His eyes flash. “They don’t call it that, you know. It’s called the ‘skin trade’.”

“I don’t care.”

He gets up to go pour himself another drink at the bar. “Right,” he snaps, like you’re an idiot. “You’re so fucking naïve, krasotka [pretty (n.)]. So convinced that I’m the devil. But you have no idea how much worse it could’ve been for you.”

“You threatened to sell your own daughter before you figured out she was yours!”

Refusing to be provoked, he returns to stand right in front of you, forcing you to look up at him towering over you. “I knew she was mine from the second I walked in that house,” he says, making your breath catch.

“How?”

He smiles nastily and takes a sip from his drink, then sets it aside. He leans over you with his hands on the back of your seat, caging you in. You can smell the expensive alcohol on his breath as he gets in your face and tells you, “I put that baby in you, moya omegya. She’s a part of me. You think I wouldn’t be able to figure that out? Think an Alpha doesn’t know the scent of his own flesh and blood?”

You tense, fighting not to shrink away. “You’re making that up.”

He chuckles lowly and puts his face right next to yours, cheek to cheek, savoring your reaction. “Sweetheart,” he purrs, “I may not have forced a mating bite on you back then like I should have, but there are other ways to leave your mark on someone.” He dips in to kiss your neck, right over your unbitten glands. “I found you by your scent,” he whispers. “Sniffed you out.”

You shiver at his hot breath on your skin and the deadly soft tone of his voice. The way your body responds to him isn’t anything you can control, and he knows that, but it still makes you flush with embarrassment when he takes a deep inhale in the bend of your neck and hums with satisfaction when he smells the effect he’s had on you. “I wouldn’t have sold her anyway,” he tells you, pulling back and picking up his drink. “I want you to know that. I don’t participate in the skin trade.”

You swallow thickly, watching him watch you as he waits for you to react to him in some way. You don’t know why you believe him about this one thing, but you do. “But you’re aware of it,” you say. “You know it happens, and you don’t do anything to stop it.”

His jaw works in frustration. “I’ve interfered a time or two, when I could get away with it.”

“Well, aren't you a hero.”

“I didn’t say that,” he snaps. “I said I’ve done what little I could. These men make a lot of money dealing in omegas, and they don’t take kindly to being stolen from.”

“I can imagine.”

“No,” he mutters into his drink. “You really can’t.”

There’s something oddly bitter in his tone, like he's working hard not to tell you something. You bite your lip and watch him for a minute. “... How much?” you ask.

“What?” His eyes darken when he figures out what you’re asking. “No.”

“Tell me.”

“It depends,” he grits, glaring at you. "Now cut it out."

Sober, you might have; but half a vodka spritzer after nineteen months of no alcohol has you bolder than you usually would be. You look down at yourself, feigning flippancy. “Well what about me? How much would I go for?”

“Kotenok,” he warns lowly, growling when you continue to press him with a snotty little,

“Come on, I thought you were such a dangerous criminal? You can’t even discuss a little human trafficking with the weak omega you just trafficked?”

He probably knows you’re trying to antagonize him, but he still rises to the bait. He sits back and lets his eyes drag over your body in a way that makes your pulse pick up. “Well,” he drawls, “you just had a baby. So that’s less right there.” Your nostrils flare angrily and he gives you a look. “You’re the one who asked,” he reminds, waiting until you give him a nod to continue. He gives you another onceover, this time lingering in certain places longer, a softer look in his eyes for the softer parts of your body. He almost seems to get distracted. He catches himself overindulging and looks away, like it’s hurting him to consider you this way. “Most people want their omegas untouched,” he says quietly. “Especially if the buyer's alpha, which they usually are. It’s an instinctual thing for us. We’re very driven to possess. We don’t like to share.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you mutter.

His gaze snaps back to you, a painful amount of familiarity in his eyes. “You’dve been a couple million, back when we first met.”

Your eyes widen. You weren't expecting that. “But … I wasn’t even a virgin.”

He arches an eyebrow. “I said untouched, not virginal. Not in that way. Alpha buyers want unbonded and never bred, first and foremost.” He leers at you. “Not that there aren’t some who’ll pay a little extra to pop a girl’s cherry. But that’s not the main thing they’re looking for, when they buy.”

You scowl. “Right. So I guess I’m damaged goods now."

“Oh no, mamochka,” he says seriously. “You’ve only gone up in value in my eyes. Though believe me when I say I’m more than happy to contribute to the depletion of your market value." He raises his glass to his lips, looking darkly pleased. “You’re not for sale, and you never will be. You’re mine.”

You're embarrassed to be the one to break eye contact first, but you can’t keep listening to him talk about how much he likes you and watching him look at you like you’re his most prized possession. With any other man you’d just be disgusted, but James has always had a knack for getting you flustered, and he knows it. There’s always been an inexplicable pull between the two of you, and he knows that, too. It’s the main reason why you've always refused his attempts to bond you. You're terrified of what it’ll be like after, since you already know how pathetically helpless you are around him without a bond.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you mumble quietly. “Where is it?”

“Just down there.” He nods in the direction behind you, opposite from where Steve had gone with June.

You press your lips together and get up without looking at him, but you can feel his eyes on you the entire time you’re walking away.

“Don’t take too long in there, kotenok,” he purrs from back in his seat. “Or I’ll have to come in after you.”

In the bathroom, you splash water on your face and lean against the sink, looking at the girl staring back at you in the mirror. You blink, and she blinks, but it feels like you’re looking at another person, someone you don’t know. She looks fragile. Tired, and dazed. June’s been sleeping through the night for months, but it’s been a hell of a day.

You scrutinize your reflection, smoothing your dress and tucking your hair behind your ears, thinking about how you have zero makeup on. Then you scoff at yourself for caring what you look like in front of him. You think about how much you’ve changed in the seventeen months since you ran away. Not just physically, but mentally. You’ve had to be so strong. For June, for yourself. It’s been awful, and lonely, and you’ve hated yourself for not being able to stop missing him.

You sniffle and splash more water on your face, grumpily thinking that postpartum hormones are so much worse than the pregnancy ones. You grab the towel off the wall, but freeze when you bring it up to pat your face dry and get a smell of it.

Oh.

You whimper, unable to keep from pressing it harder to your mouth and nose and inhaling deeply. It’s James’ scent, and it smells so good. It smells like Safety and Love and Alpha. You hear the sound of your own, needy mewl and you gasp, yanking the towel away from your face and tossing it into the sink, trying to keep your shit together. You brace your hands on the counter and glare at your reflection to tell her to stop it, stop it, stop it, but all it takes is seeing your lower lip quiver, and soon your entire face is collapsing in long-repressed sadness. You turn away from the mirror with a pathetic noise, throat aching from the urge to keen.

Why does this have to be happening?! You’ve tried so hard, for so long. To be strong for June, to get over him, to move on! You bury your face in your hands and choke on a wrenching sob. You know you have to be quiet, have to stop, have to pull yourself together before he—

A soft knock comes from outside the bathroom. “Doll?”

You whine and hastily search for a lock on the door, but there is none, and James hears your crying and pulls the door open. “Honey,” he mourns when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You push past him, hurrying in the direction he isn’t blocking. “Leave me alone!” you cry, hating the blubbering in your voice that makes you sound just as weak as James thinks you are. You arrive in a perfectly made up bedroom with no point of egress other than the one you arrived through. You whine in distress, circle around helplessly, and then throw yourself onto the bed when he arrives at the doorway looking worried. “Leave me alone!” you cry, curling onto your side and pulling one of the pillows down to bury your face in. At least it isn’t suffused with James’ scent. You still cry though, unable to keep it in anymore now that you’ve started.

He tuts sadly from the doorway and comes into the room slowly. He stands there for a long minute, silent, before he sighs and his weight comes onto the bed. “Sweetheart,” he says.

“Just leave me alone,” you whine miserably. “Go away!”

“Shh sh sh.” He curls up behind you, arms around your waist and legs pushing in behind yours. He kisses your shoulder and hugs you, but it only makes you cry harder at how achingly familiar it is. “It’s okay,” he murmurs between kisses. He doesn’t try to get you to stop crying, or ask you what’s wrong. He seems to know exactly why you’re breaking down, and he simply devotes all his efforts to helping you calm down in your own time. “S’okay, s’okay. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he keeps saying, soothing you with a deep rumble in his chest. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart. I’ve got you now. It’s all gonna be okay. Shhh.”

At first, his placating makes you angry, but not enough to stop your crying, and once that tapers off from sobs to quiet, sniffling tears, you can’t seem to dredge up the anger anymore. It isn’t there.

“You feeling a little better?” he asks kindly, gently tucking your hair behind your ear and then hugging you again.

You whine when you feel his lips against your neck. “I’m fine,” you rasp, voice coming out scratchy from all of the crying. You cringe and scrub your face into the pillow in embarrassment. “Just got a little sad.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, giving you a supportive squeeze. “That’s okay.”

You hate how he says it, because it’s obvious that he knows why you were crying: Poor, sad little omega, bawling her eyes out over how much she’s missed her Alpha. He nuzzles into your neck, telling you it’s okay and that you’re allowed to cry. As much as you hate him being able to see into you so easily, you’re just grateful that he isn’t rubbing your face in it right now. The way he's holding you and comforting you feels good. You don’t fight to get away from him.

The two of you lie there together for what feels like a long time. Once you’ve stopped crying and are only giving the occasional sniffle for your runny nose, he goes back to running his hand over your side. It’s a gesture of comfort. He’s not groping you, but even still, you blush at the vulnerability of it. You find yourself glad that you’re facing away from him.

The plane shifts noticeably, and James’ hand pauses on your hip. “Pilot said we’re landing soon,” he murmurs. “Should probably go and get pchelka up.”

You sniffle and fight off the urge of resurfacing tears at hearing him reference June. One day of knowing his daughter and already he’s got a nickname for her. You should be annoyed by that, but instead it just makes your heart squeeze with emotion. “Pchelka,” you whisper, trying out the word.

“Yeah.” He hums happily and kisses your shoulder one last time. “Little bee. Come on. Let’s go.”

You don’t think about how it’s far too soon to have arrived at your destination, until you’re back in the main room of the cabin on the way to where Steve disappeared with June, earlier. You pause at the windows, peering out at the landscape. “This isn’t Russia,” you say, confused. The plane is definitely descending, but you’ve only been in the air for a few hours at most. “James?” you ask, as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Together, you both look out at the looming mountains and turquoise waters below. “Where are we?” you breathe.

James rests his chin on your shoulder and sighs happily. “Home,” he says. “We’re home.”

A.N.: See? Much less Rapey! Plenty more mega-dub con to come though, so don't you angst-lovers worry. Thanks for reading!💖Sarah

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preciousbarnes · 1 year

Text

Promises | Part 1/3

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: When your parents are murdered in cold blood, you turn to the most feared man on the east coast for answers.

Word count: 2.4k

Tags: Violence, discussion of murder, graphic scene, hurt/comfort (it was a murder yall, its not pretty but I dont think I described it too graphically), Google translate used for the Russian, mafia themes.

You found yourself in a dark and quiet bar tonight, the smell of top shelf liquor and cigar smoke prominent the second you walked through the door. You were anxious of course, but anyone with a shred of common sense would be nervous about meeting the one known as the Winter Soldier. At least, you hoped to talk to him tonight. You slowly approached the bar, remembering the code your father had once told you, in case you ever found yourself in this position.

“Я ищу зимнего солдата” you softly say to the bartender, earning a subtly surprised expression. I’m looking for the winter solder, you had said.

The bartender sets down the glass he was drying, and walks away and through a back door, which you’re certain leads to the the office of the man you seek. After a few moments, the bartender returns, followed by a tall, blonde man. He was strong, all muscle, his face serious but had an undertone of friendliness. You were unsure if it was genuine or not. You never can be sure about mobsters, despite how kindly your father had always spoken of the Winter Mob. Especially now, that your family had been wronged so brutally.

“What is your business here, miss? We don’t see many women around these places,” He says, voice smooth like velvet, carrying the whispers of a Brooklyn accent.

“Mr. Barnes knows my parents. They’re the owners of the bakery on the corner of Southeast Avenue. Something happened, and I need to speak with Mr. Barnes. I need answers.” You say, voice surprisingly stern even though your insides felt like they were shaking like a leaf.

Once you mention the establishment your parents ran, the tall blondes eyes light with understanding.

“Ah yes, your parents are very good people. We know them well. You must be their daughter. If it is truly something serious, please, follow me,” He says, stepping aside as he holds the door for you. You walk down a long and dimly lit corridor in silence, being led by the man. This is when you notice the weapons strapped to his hips. He is dressed in the mobs characteristic all black clothing they were known for, with two guns, one on each him, strapped to him. He also wore a shoulder holster, holding a smaller pistol and two knives. He looked lethal, but had surprised you with his professional but friendly manner.

As you get closer to the door at the end of the hall, you hear the soft tones of jazz coming from inside the office, a deep and quiet hum accompanying it. The unnamed blonde knocks softly, before opening the door.

The office is also dimly lit only by a small desk lap. There were stacks metal file cabinets around the room, holding what you were sure to be decades of files on everything mob related you could imagine. The Winter Mob was known for their organization and wide depth of knowledge. The floor was a deep, rich wood, the wallpaper elaborate and stunning. Everything about the office screamed luxury.

At the desk in the center of the room sat the most dangerous man on the East Coast. Bucky Barnes, head of the Winter Mob. He wore a fitted black suit, with a black dress shirt as well. His hair was short, and he had a slight stubble on his jaw. He was a handsome man, but for every bit he was handsome, you knew he was also deadly. You involuntarily shivered at the thought of all he is involved with, and now here you were, on a mission for information.

He looked up, eyes taking you in, trailing over your face, then down your body, and back up before he spoke.

“What can I do for you, doll? Bad boyfriend you want taken care of?” He asks in a deep voice, with a slight chuckle, already making assumptions about you. It wouldn’t have been the first time a young woman had come to him for help getting out of a relationship. Little did you know, he always helped in those situations, for no cost. He was raised to respect women, to cherish them. Whenever he could, he would help women get away from men who didn’t understand that.

“No, Mr. Barnes. You know my parents. You helped them with a loan, to keep their bakery afloat. The little one on the corner of Southeast Avenue,” You explain, hoping that he will know who you’re talking about. You know he works and helps a lot of different people, so it’s hard to say if he will specifically know your parents. All you can do is hope.

At the mention of the bakery, Bucky gives a small but honest smile.

“Yeah, I do. They make the best cream puffs on this side of the U.S, I swear. How are they?” He asks you, as he leans back a bit in his chair.

“They’re dead.” You say, voice breaking on the word ‘dead’. It was still a raw wound on your heart, and still difficult to say out loud. It still felt like you were in a bad dream.

His visibly shocks Bucky. His eyebrows furrow together and his jaw drops open slightly.

“What?” He asks, softly. Unknown to you, since you were mostly away in the big city working, Bucky really loved your parents. He thought they were good, honest people. He himself stopped in twice a week to visit, always ordering a small black coffee and two cream puffs. Your mother and father reminded him of his own, who he dearly missed. It was a shellshock to him to hear the two were gone so suddenly.

His blatant shock surprised you. You really thought he knew. How did he not?

“You mean, you didn’t know? I thought it was one of your goons who took them out?” You ask, confused.

Bucky and the blonde man who had led you in snorted in slight laughter at you calling his workers and family “goons”.

“Steve, will you grab the ledger book for her families loan for me?” Bucky asked, thanking the blonde who you now knew was Steve as he handed a thin bound book over to the boss.

“Doll, come here, I want to show you something,” The boss called to you, beckoning you over with a motion of his hand, as the other flipped through the pages of the small book, before coming to the end of the writing in the book.

“See here? Their debt was paid back in full to me, two years before the deadline I had set. They’ve had me paid off for a while now. They swore to me I’d see my money back, with interest, and they kept their promise to me in full. I’d have no reason to put a hit out on them, and I never would,” The mobster told you, a surprisingly soft and gentle tone contrasting his strong and tough exterior.

“I- I don’t understand. I thought surely, they must have been behind on the loan, or made you angry somehow or something. I just wanted some answers. Who- who killed my parents?” You ask, tears springing to your eyes. You thought you had originally had at least part of the answer, being who was responsible, and now you didn’t even have that.

“I don’t know, doll. But we’re going to figure it out,” He promises you, confusing you once again. This man was full of surprises to you.

“Why? Why do you want to help me?” You ask him. When you ask, he looks to you with a fire in his eyes.

“They were family. No one gets by with hurting family, doll,” His voice tells you, a dangerous edge to it.

The mafia boss quickly tells Steve to pull his car around for you both after learning you had gotten to their bar by bus. As he waited, he asked a bit about you. He wanted to know where you were staying, to which you told him the hotel. He was satisfied in knowing it was one he secretly owned. You told him about your job in New York, which you had taken a leave of absence from to come home to Brooklyn to figure this out. He nodded as you spoke, listening as you watched him grab his gun from his desk drawer, loading it before putting it in the holster strapped to his hip. He then grabbed his wallet, thick with cash you could clearly see making it bulge, shoving it in his pocket. You both turned to Steve when he returned, telling his boss the car was ready, before leading you both outside.

You both climbed into the Escalade, Steve opening and closing your door for you. After you’re both buckled in, he begins to drive.

“Where did it happen?” He asks you, eyes focused on the road.

“Their home, off of 56th street, if you turn here, you’ll want to-“ You’re suddenly cut off.

“I know where it is, doll, your mother was sweet enough to invite me and the boys to dinner a couple times. A sweet woman, she was,” He told you, voice sounding like silk as he fondly remembered the meals and memories he shared with your parents. They had been good to him, and his closest family members; the boys who were part of his administration, the top level of the mob, the ones he worked with the most.

“I didn’t realize you all were that close?” You question, still surprised.

Bucky sends you a kind smile, not bothered by your confused and uncertain tone.

“Your parents were good people. Kind people. Nothing like the company we usually keep. They just needed help, and we were happy to help them. For our assistance, they made sure we knew how grateful they were, which isn’t something that happens for us often. Most are afraid of us, but for some reason they never were. We respected that.” He tells you, his own respect for your parents clear in his tone.

“They really meant something to you,” You conclude, still seeing a hint of sadness in his voice where he had to use past tense when talking about your parents now.

“They did. They treated me like their own, which I’m sure you know how good that is,” He tells you, voice soft again.

You smile sadly, nodding. Your parents had been so good to you, always your number one fan. To know they had been good to a mobster too, having hearts full enough to see past the tough exterior and treat Bucky’s family like their own, made your own heart swell. They really were good people. You were blessed to have come from them, but that made you want justice for them even more. They didn’t deserve the fate they had been given.

You both pulled up outside of their small home. It was modest, but charming all the same. A small brick two-story house with white shutters. There were small window boxes hanging off of each window, holding flower beds your mother had planted little wildflowers in, a beautiful bright contrast to the brick building. There was police tape surrounding the property, with an officer stationed outside on the porch.

Bucky puts the car in park, parking behind the police car out front. As he unbuckles, he turns to face you, surprised to see you also unbuckling.

“Doll, stay here, I don’t think you’ll want to see this,” He commands, voice not leaving room for argument. You’ve always been stubborn, so you argue anyway.

“I want to come with you, Mr. Barnes. I deserve to know. I want to see it too,” You plead with him.

He sighs, taking in your stern tone and resiliency clear on your face. He nods begrudgingly.

“First, call me Bucky. Second, okay. But, don’t say anything to the officer, and do not touch anything, okay?” He orders you, earning him a small smile and a nod from you.

You both get out of the car, walking up the sidewalk, only to be stopped by the officer.

Bucky quickly pulls out a wad of cash, silencing the officers demands for you both to leave. Pocketing the cash, he holds the police tape up for you and Bucky to crouch under to enter the property. You pull out your key to your family home, unlocking the door and moving to walk in the door until Bucky stops you.

“Let me go first doll,” He tells you, making you step back to let him enter first.

The first thing you notice is a pungent smell of iron hitting you both. You grimace. You hadn’t been told much by police, only that it had been quite a gruesome scene. The medical examiner had already informed you that you would have to have a closed casket service, and had advised you as gently as possible that it would be best if you didn’t see their bodies in the state they were now in. It hurt your heart. But all of that still didn’t prepare you for the scene you both saw in the living room.

Blood was everywhere. The floors, the walls, the couches, the curtains. It was obvious there had been a struggle from the trail of blood around the room. The room looked like a scene out of a horror film. In the center of the room laid a large and sharp knife, also covered in blood. In the light, gleamed an inscription you couldn’t make out. Bucky crouched down next to it for a closer look, and you couldn’t stop it anymore. Sobs wracked your body, vision blurring from your tears. You hug your midsection, wishing for comfort. It shockingly comes.

Bucky stands from his couched position in the middle of the room and strides back over to you, carefully wrapping you in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, дорогая” He whispers in your ear, holding you close to him as your head comes to rest on his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist. Sweetheart is what he called you. His voice was also heavy with emotion, hating the scene in front of you both. It was a scene of two people who had fought hard, but nevertheless had a horrifying and painful death.

“I think I know who is responsible,” He informs you, after your tears slowly come to a stop, now just enjoying the comfort his strong arms brought you.

“You do? Who?” You timidly ask, fearful of hearing who could have done something so violent, so horrid and animalistic, to people as sweet and kind as your parents who wouldn’t hurt anyone for anything in the world.

“His name is Zemo,” His voice darkly tells you, taking your hand and leading you out of the house and back to the Escalade.

Part 2: Coming Soon

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zombiiegrr · 1 year

Text

Brooklyn Baby. (๑>◡<๑)

a dbf! bucky x afab! reader.

word count : 3130

honestly everything is the same but Bucky is like healed happy and he more like amazing soldier then winter solder lol and jazz thanos didn’t happen causes it’s not marvel it’s more like real army idk with Tony still bring a billionaire + vision being ‘normal’ like wandavison and wanda acting like that aswell :)

cw: y/n is down so bad, cocky!bucky, slightly toxic! bucky not at first, age gaps (y/n is 21 while bucky is 38), cursing, smut. jealously, secret relationship. mentions of skin tone doesn’t exist here. daddy issues, slight mommy issues idk characters pick up the reader theyre all STRONG ass men so dont think the reader is supposed to be petite or anything!! ALSO there’s mention of recent readers 21 birthday ok I’m a june 3 gemini so… idk… ur birthday but it’s technically going to be hot in the fanfic so summer but I won’t say birthdates

Your mother had you at 17 leading to your father going into the military at 18 leaving you and your mother, fighting for his country meeting friends turning into family including bucky

i've always thought when someone watches someone growup then bangs them is kinda sooooo odd.. so bucky was never really around the reader when she was a kid he was on duty and when he was around the reader was way to nervous to even be downstairs when he was there so its not like that!!!!!!

music i listened to while writing. some song fit ill tell u to play them

new chapter

this is a series! comment to be added to the tag list

@aemondmylove @arilevinsonhavemybabies @masturbucky @alwayshungryforramen @yvonneeeee

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“Now landing in New York! enjoy your holiday or welcome home!” The flight attendant says waking you up. You stood gain the feeling back in your legs, got your suitcase from above you wait for the people in front of you to get their items.

Your phone finally gained service flooding in texts from your roommate asking if you got on the flight safe. a bit from your mother telling you to make your dad get you things and more family telling you to have fun and say hi to your father for them. after reading most you finally got to your father's texts telling you his friends were coming to the airport to get you and to be “nice to them”

Just great. You loved your dads' friends the only thing was you had a crush on about every one of them realizing how attractive they are when you hit puberty making you shy around them leading to them thinking you dislike them. It had been 8 years since you left to California to live with your mother for school/the social life (Californian here!) Visiting during summers, Christmas, Thanksgivings and or your father's birthday. After 18 you choose spending summers and most holidays with your father and mother sometimes coming with.

Your fathers' main friends. Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, San Wilson, Thor Odinson, Clint Barton, James Rhodes. James “Bucky” Barnes, & Scott Lang. Your father had a lot of friends from all over and They were all handsome, but Bucky was breathtaking. You hadn’t seen him in 8 years well you seen him but hadn't even had a full convo you would avoid him like the plague being so embarrassed of the things you talked about with your friends when they pointed him out in family vacation photos.

You finally fully got off the plane moving quicky not wanting to be late and make them wait outside as you arrive outside blinded by the brightness of the sun as you wait for your eyes to adjust. As you finally get the hang of the brightness you hear some walking fast behind you “NO WAY SAME AIRPORT!?” Scott says as he walks over holding cassies hand as she waves aggressively with her other hand you smile wide knowing Scott lived above you in California , San Francisco. So it made sense landing in the same airport.

A car horn makes you all look over quickly seeing an Chrysler 300 with a metal arm out the window meeting the glasses of a guy smirking at you and before you could react someone busts open the back door making your face light up realizing who it was.

“DOUNTTTTT!!!!!” Clint screamed getting looks from other people there as you ran to him aswell

“HAWKEYE!!!” Clint had earned the name hawkeye when he had been the only one approved to use a bow and arrow with guns on the field and according to your dad he moved and had the eyes of a hawk giving him the nickname “Hawkeye” which you loved as a child still using now when he called to check on you helping you during fails and letting you stay with his family during fights with your mom.

"Geez you look all different kid had to make sure it was you." Clint says as he hugged you tightly giving you a kiss on the forehead while taking your suitcase in the other arm.

"Is that really you superstar you got taller or is something else different?" A kind smile meets your eyes as Sam reaches over the driver's seat "Well, I'm 21 now! last time you seen me I was like what 17?" Clint nods his head as he puts your suitcase in the back of the car.

“WHATS UP TINY” Sam says as he gets out the car to run and hug Cassie earning a giggle from Cassie as he lifts her up “oh you brought your father” sam jokes as he puts her down “Yeah ok Sam it’s great to see you to” Scott laughs as he hugs him and Clint

"Hello ladybug" Bucky says removing his glasses. he called you ladybug when he came home from duty to you welcoming him home with your dad in a ladybug outfit and when you dyed your hair red and black and always wore black and white. You liked ladybugs and liked that the few times you spoken; he had called you one.

"James-" he laughed slightly at your formality reminding you that bucky was fine making your stomach fluttery at the eye contact "Almost drove past you bug. You look beautiful you father talks about you like you're still a kid hiding from us on the stairs. But then I seen Scott your a lifesaver Scott " Bucky eyes you making you feel small under his gaze.

"Woah lay off the charm handsome" Scott laughs out loud not causing Bucky to break eye contact just smirk a bit more.

You get in the car begging bucky to drive you home fast He laughs and jokes about how insane Californians are with driving. OfCourse the two in the car start agreeing and shit talking Californians. You laugh seeing as you were literally in NEW YORK and so were they. and in an argument between the worst driving between New York and Cali? New York takes the cake or at least in your opinion.

you see scott putting his stuff in the back and you asking if Scott and Cassie were getting a ride then you got confirmation that Scott was invited by your father and you would be going to the same place!

the car ride was a bit quiet besides humming from you or clint. Many questions from Cassie before she passed out knocked out after 5 minutes. Bucky did ask about school, housing, and asked how your mom was doing. You answered all happily just happy to talk to anyone other then your roommate or your mom. Sam starts to ask the ‘good’ questions asking if you had had a drink yet since you had (recently) turned 21 extremely quietly looking over at Cassie You answered half ass knowing you truthfully had only had a few cocktails and maybe a beer while at a party only enough to get tipsy nothing getting you drunk.

You Start to pull up to the house watching your father standing outside with Tony talking about something noticing us pulling in.

“OH YOUR HOME” you father says LOUDLY gaining a very blank stare from Tony covering his ear rolling his eyes. He parks and you run out to hug your father being too broke to see him but not wanting to ask others to pay for a ticket you hugged him for a while before tony ask how long it’s been since you had seen each other.

“6 Months. Longest time since I was on duty.” You father answers gaining a frown from you. “College payment. I went broke and tried working overtime but my car-“your father cut you off with another hug reminding you that you’re here now daddy issue go crazy.

It had taken a while to repair the relationship with your father dealing with the damage of what he did and how his cheating broke up your family and how he ‘parented you’ due to his own issues and ‘shell shock’ from the years at service you could recognize he was trying so hard to change and heal.

“not to ruin the moment but I have a surprise or well we have a surprise let’s go inside” you dad says as you watch Clint grab your bag so you start walking in with your dad.

Steve, and Rhodes were talking in the kitchen looking over and noticing you. “Hell kid you sure grew up” Steve walks over giving you a big hug seen as those are common today sorry if you hate hugs Rhodes behind also giving you a hug.

“Ok give me the floor please lady’s and gentlemen. I and Darren have decided to force all of you to go on a family trip with us and before any of you say shit like ‘work’ or ‘kids’ or whatever I will slap you i cleared everything for you guys cause I’m me. But yeah kids are coming with causes it a damn huge lake house” Tony says as he pulls his laptop out to pull up the lake house Information.

“We and I mean WE ALL will be staying at Twin Oaks At The Chapin Estate for the summer because I own that place and it sits there collecting dust. HEY, Clint your kids they will have a room with bunk beds and Scott you okay with Cassie bunking them and Morgan?” Scott said it was perfectly fine with him if It was okay with Cassie who was nodding. Tony continued “it’s me and pepper of course Darren already claimed his room Nat and banner are gonna visit but not stay, Vision, Wanda, their kids and Thor will be staying in a place that they decided to rent like a seven-minute walk away from away from us so that’s cool. So that’s three more rooms any takers?

Everyone was kind of collecting information. You were overjoyed about going out to the lake and the family restaurants in that area. Sam said that he was fine with a couch and really didn’t need a room which a few people without rooms started to agree with.

As everyone started talking about rooms and stays and everything else your mind starts to wander to Bucky and the thought you and him staying in the same place overnight although you did feel a bit silly getting so excited over that. You didn’t even realize he was sitting right in front of you at the table smiling at you making you feel warm you stupidly thought if he could hear your thoughts. You thought about asking your dad to put you both in the same room cringing at the look your father would give you.

“hey ladybug” bucky whispers making you look at him making eye contact for the first time in a bit. “Hm?” You ask trying not to express any nervousness especially not around everyone else and especially not in front of him. “excited? I haven’t been on a trip in forever even if we’re staying in New York that place is expensive knowing Tony” you agreed saying you were excited just nervous about getting bored or homesick he laughed a bit and reminded you he won’t let you get bored locking eye contact feeling his knee slightly hit yours before he his smirk slightly grew.

“Okay final decision. Me and pepper, Clint and Laura, The kids, Darren, y/n, Rhodes, and Steve. And for some reason the rest of you prefer the couches? I dont know but I don’t care it’s figured out. Also shit I told the kids I’m sponsoring that he can bring his friends out to the lake and the pool and the gym and all that they aren’t staying but heads up.”

“Parker?” Darren asks. Tony nodded his head as he closed his computer. Everyone looked happy and it make you happy. Bucky would be using a couch which seemed like something he would do but being honest he’ll probably share a room with Steve falling asleep on the couch in Steve’s room of choice. You were fine with him sneaking in your room though

When the thought came to your head your looked at him right away giggling and squeezing your legs together like a teenager everyone looked at your confused and you father asked what was so funny backed up by bucky wondering as-well you laughed again apologizing and changing the subject saying you would be going shopping to pack for the trip backed up by Scott asking if you would be so kind to pick up a bathing suit for Cassie which you agreed

“Do you even remember where everything is?” Bucky teased. Why was he being so flirty? Were you being delusional?? Were you misinterpreting everything? Was he flirting or just hot and talking .

“yeah. Wanna go with just incase I forgot?” Smoothhhh you thought to yourself begging that no one else will invite themselves attempting to keep his invitation quiet.

“Don’t mind if I do. I have the ugliest swim trunks so I have to get new ones hun” he replied getting up saying he would get his keys

Everyone else said it would be smart to go Home and pack or something all deciding to meet up here again the next morning at 7am to start the drive over seeing as it would take a few hours did my research frfr

about 30 minutes later! (>ω^)

“sooo adult Life? How do you like it? I asked this before but in a car full of people and a kid so is it the same answer?” Bucky asked as walked around the clothing store you laughed knowing you did change your answer cause of the people in the car

“It’s shit. My mom forgets I’m a adult and cussed me out because i went to “way to many parties in one week” and posted “things” when I knew people from church view my story so she took my car which caused me to spend everything on a new one which is why I couldn’t pay to come out here” you could feel the words pouring out of you and Bucky was an amazing listener he followed every word you spoke feeling and reading you emotions and you could tell that made your heart pound.

“Man im sorry kid. Why didn’t you reach out? Dumb question I know it can be hard but your ‘uncle’ is a billionaire he would have happily got you a ticket to visit and your dad missed you like crazy he would have definitely helped.”

you frowned again. “oh no ladybug I didn’t mean like you did something wrong I’m just saying we’re here for you. We care and if you ever need to come out here for anything we will happily help. excuse me I’m not the best with words”

“you’re great. thank you bucky.” you said as you hugged his arm he pulled you away a bit which made you confused but then he gave you a full hug in the middle of the store which made you laugh in embarrassment, but you wouldn’t let him go. He smelt so good and covered so much of you he held on to you so tightly and easy it make you shake.

“Woah you're shaking to hard of a hug. Sorry kid” you held on before he could let go and reassured him that you were fine and just a bit touch starved, he let out an attractive laugh whispering take all the time you need. You could feel the change in your panties as you grew wetter in his hold as he whispered asking If you were alright. Making you hold him tighting nodding you head.

You finally let go shaking embarrassed that you were this into a hug for crying out loud. You locked eye contact he was smirkingly as usual looking down at your basket asking if you got everything you needed you nodded asking if he did Aswell seeing as he had nothing.

“Oh no sweetheart I just wanted a excuse to come with” you genuinely felt like you had a flood in your panties you felt so shameless for getting so wet over that over everything he did or said you nodded and smiled at him walking away before you did something stupid.

While in line Bucky was clearly eyeing your basket. The underwear the bikini THE everything or maybe he was just looking over? Unless he asked “isn't that a bit small?” pointing at the bikini “your daddy isn't gonna like that”

“I don’t care what daddy thinks or says I want the bikini”

for once Bucky looked surprised or well for a few seconds before he had a different look on his face he looked so good like he liked whatever I said I didn’t want to jump to conclusions but you’re sure it had something with saying daddy.

“Move in line y/n” once again whispering in your ear you did once again feeling that pulse in your panties. If he whispered in your ear one more time you were gonna-

“You total is $226.88 cash credit? Debit? Or Apple Pay” The cashier snapped you out of it with that total as you were so confused how you got that much stuff for a 1-and-a-half-month trip. Before you could think Bucky puts his Card in being way to buff for you to cross over and cancel you just stood there saying nonooooooooo i GOT it when you definitely didn’t have it but Bucky did. Tony slipped him a card

He grabbed your bags grabbing your hand aswell leading you out saying let’s go.

“Bucky that was a lot of money.” He ignores you as you both get back into the car as you keep repeating that he didn’t need to and that you needed to look at everything to see if it was even worth it and he still wasnt repling until he did.

“Y/n i GOT it. Please kid don’t worry about me we’re gonna have so much fun and spend a lot of time together if thats alright with you and if you would stop stressing about some money right now we could start having fun right sweetheart? Thank you.” He said calmly just sternly making me sit back into lt seat

“Atta girl thank you” you almost whimpered outloud he was very leading and it made you weak he probably knew so much things you don’t you want him to teach you

“hellllllllo you’re Home ladybug” you look around seeing that youre in your driveway and start to freak out nervous to ask for his number. “Thank you so much. Is there anyway we could talk? Instagram? Number? Email? Sorry that’s silly.“ you were mixing all of your words up again. he nodded and took his phone out handing his phone to you as you put you phone number in you felt his eyes on you.

“Thank you i was going to ask someone for you number but easy if you did First” you GOT nervous at THE idea that he fought of you.

“good night Bucky don’t forget tomorrow” You said as you got your bags and got out the card.

“Oh i wouldn’t miss it for the world ladybug” he said as he watching you making sure you got into the house safely

until next time sweetheart.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

I hope you guys liked this!!! took so long im so sorry plz plz let me know how you guy liked it also Lmk for tag list this is a series.

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nekoannie-chan · 5 months

Text

Week 48 Reblog Masterlist

Welcome to Week 48 2023 or Week 204, as always, fics would be listed in the order I read them.

I hope you enjoy it!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

♥ You can check my reading guidelines here.

♥ You can check my masterlist here.

♥ You can check my main reblog masterlist 2023 here.

♥ You can check my November reblog masterlist 2023 here.

♥ You can check my December reblog masterlist 2023 here.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

𝙺𝚎𝚢𝚜: 💛 ᵒʳᶤᵍᶤᶰᵃˡ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ

💜 ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ

🖤 ᵈᵃʳᵏ

❤️ ˢᵐᵘᵗ

💚 ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ

💙 ᵃᶰᵍˢᵗ

🧡 ᶜᵒᵐᵉᵈʸ

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

This is the list of the fics I read and recommend in Week 48 2023:

Kinktober day 17 (Stucky X Reader) by @lillian-gallows ❤️

Fic (Brock Rumlow X Reader, Winter Solder X Reader) by @itwasthereaminuteago🖤❤️

Say it back (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @fandoms-writings 💙

Learn my lesson (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @cockslutpadalecki ❤️

Kinktober day 18 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @lilacliquors ❤️

Halloween is the perfect time for tricks—and treats (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @witchywithwhiskey 🖤❤️

Dating pre-serum Steve Rogers would include (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms💚

This love part 3 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @lives-in-midgard💚

Seven minutes part II (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @anika-ann❤️

Inside her fantasy part I (Ransom Drysdale X Reader) by @georgiapeach30513 💚❤️

An old life (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @astyrial💚

Fic (Stucky X Reader) by @madeforstarker💚

Forbidden fruit (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sebastianstanisahotmf ❤️

Dysfunction or wrong direction (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @l1tw1ck ❤️

Drean a little dream of me part 2 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @paperweight91💙

Happy ending (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @imtryingbuck💙

Real life tasks with Ransom Drysdale (Ransom Drysdale X Reader) by @wiypt-writes ❤️

As sweet as cake 6.1 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sunvmars 💚❤️

Dark nights (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @kinanabinks 🖤❤️

We’ll always protect you (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @nicoline1998enilocin 💙

Kinktober day 18 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @gatorbites-imagines❤️

Morning glory (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @lavykitty❤️

If I could give you the moon (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sunvmars 💙❤️

Promises left behind part 2 (Sirius Black X Reader) by @moim0i 💚💙

All I want for Christmas is you (Brock Rumlow X Reader) by @there-goes-thefighter 💚

My knight in white (Marc Spector X Reader) by @flightlessangelwings ❤️

Steve fic (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @biteofcherry❤️

Back and forth prologue: flash forward (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @anika-ann 💚💙

#Annie recommends

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missbeautyandherbeast · 4 months

Text

Ways to My Heart

Donatello X Reader

Summary: Request: Originally based on “Ways to Break My Heart” by Ed Sheeran but it got healthier

A/n: Apparently I appear every Christmas and rewrite an old prompt. And now that I'm older and healthier, it's kinda fun. And y'all were right, we're not about to be a rebound. So, for my dear @witchancunin, I hope you don't mind that it's been four years.

Autumn was settling in. With the wave after wave of rain that we had, there were little colors to the dying trees. Some scientific reason about fungi and decay. Donnie had explained it, but I barely payed attention.

Not that I wasn’t paying attention to him: I was too focused. We were working on a new lego set and I had one to many to drink to pit the small plastic pieces together so he took over and his fingers though larger than mine, were so nimble and they pursued the legos with ease as he assembled a BD-1 droid: my present to him after we finished The Fallen Order together.

The thought of us playing made me smile. I played through most of the game, getting my Star Wars fix, but when it became too difficult, I’d get so frustrated and Donnie would laugh and take the controller from me and defeat whatever stood in my way. I loved and hated him for it.

But that didn’t change the fact that New York was wet and colorless.

I took the hidden alley, now slick with today’s chilled rain, and followed the path down to his home and the warmth it offered. And when winter came and I missed the heat of my hometown—which was safe and sound in the middle of Georgia—four brothers did their best to keep me temperate: Mikey was all hugs; Raphael actually knitted me a sweater last winter (yes it was purple, no I don’t want to talk about it); Leo let me invade his space now and again if he was meditating; and Donnie… well there was no place warmer than his lab. Between the tech and the constant blush he knew how to get on my face and down my neck… it was where I spent most of my time.

“Still no color,” I sighed, shrugging off my coat and hanging it in my usual spot by his door.

“I told you there wouldn’t bet be,” His eyes flashed to mine before returning to his project.

“A girl can dream,” A smile touched my lips as I wandered over to see what he was working on.

In front of him was a circuit board and he was soldering wires to the metal with such precision. I left him to it, having no idea the plans in his head of creation, and I found my book on one of his other work stations. Picking it up, I resumed reading—a romance novel I let myself indulge in now and again when I was over stressed. This one was about chess and it was set in Jersey, which I found hysterical.

I must have made a sound, or a face, or some sort of tell because I heard his voice pulling me from the fictional world.

“What did Nolan do now?” Donnie asked, pushing back from his desk and over to where I was curled up.

“Not Nolan,” the story’s main guy. “It’s Oz. He’s definitely telling off Mallory right now,”

“Oooo what did she do?” I had his full attention. And it wasn’t the first time. He insisted that every time I read a book I tell him about it, despite the many insistings that he read them himself.

“I like your perspective,” He told me once. “Books are dull, dry, but you bring them alive,”

So, I launched into the tale, weaving the complexities of the plot with my words and gestures, the poor book being waved around. And all the while his eyes stayed on mine, and he gave the softest smile that belonged to only me.

He always kept me warm.

When it go late enough, and we had joined his family in having pizza and watching tv (we were currently going through the newer She-Ra on Netflix), I had to trek back out into the cold.

“Let me take you home,” Donnie piped up, seeing me get my coat and boots.

“I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” I rolled my eyes.

“I know,” He said with such certainty. “Let me do it anyway.” There was that warmth again.

“Okay,”

Raph gave me a knowing look but I ignored him.

And like greeting an old friend, we had our routine. Donnie would stay, and we’d curl up on my couch and watch old reruns of Doctor Who until we were both asleep in the comfort of my apartment.

And it was warm.

……………………………….

Then April came.

And God it was so nice to have a friend who was in on the secret. We explored New York together, had movie nights, and so many girl talks that may have involved some alcohol.

But it meant I had to watch Donnie fall head over heels for her—from my usual spot in his lab, as he showed her all of his projects, chattering happily.

I told myself it didn’t bother me. And it didn’t.

Sorta.

Maybe?

Shut up.

Hiding it from Donnie was easy. Hiding it from the rest of his family? Not so much.

“You okay kid?” Raph asked, standing beside me as Donnie explained the entire Shell-Razer to April.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” My voice was low.

“Because my brother’s an ass,”

I laughed humorlessly. “We weren’t together Raph.” A shrug fell from my shoulders as I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to fight off the lingering chill. “It’s fine. I’m—fine.”

It was a few weeks later that I came to the lair; always having an excuse to not accompany April. I could see it in her eyes that she knew something was up, but she didn’t call me out on it—yet.

“Miss Y/n,” Splinter stopped me as I entered.

“Master Splinter,” I gave a small head nod.

“Let’s talk child,” His words caught me off guard.

“Um. Okay,” I followed him to the meditation room that was lit softly with sparse candles.

“You have not been coming around as often.” It was a statement. Not a question.

“Yeah,” I knew no excuse would work on the old master, and the father of four boys.

“Is everything alright?” He rose an eyebrow and I gave a feeble lie:

“Yeah,”

He nodded. “Let’s try that again. Everything is not alright.”

Tears glossed my vision and the familiar pain flooded my chest like ice. I tilted my chin back, holding my head high.

“Master, there’s nothing I can do.” I opened my mouth to continue trying to find the courage. “I care deeply for him,” My eyes trained on a candle flame. “But I never told him and… that’s my consequence to live with,”

“I see,” His wise voice held so much understanding that it washed over me. “And because of that choice, you do not come around as often?”

“It hurts less,” That was the simple fact. “I don’t have to watch him…”

“Chase after April?” Splinter filled in knowing.

“Yeah.”

He nodded. “Perhaps you and April should talk,”

“Look, I don’t—“

“Y/n,” He cut me off and I pursed my lips. “April is your best friend, and I have a feeling she wants to help you,”

“I know,” He was right, and maybe hearing git gave me the courage to say something after all. A smile touched my lips. “Thanks Sensei.”

“I care about my family,” He said. “And that includes my daughters,”

Tears stung my eyes again as he gave me a hug.

“Thank you,”

“Of course, child,”

……………………………………….

April and I did sit down and talk. More of she called me out on moping and avoiding the subject. So, we sat on our fire escape and talked. About everything.

She knew when she first got there that there was something going on between Donnie and me. And though she loved the brothers, she didn’t like Donnie that way. She also knew that was the reason I was avoiding going to the lair.

“I’m sorry,” She said.

“For what?” I almost laughed.

“Because, before I came, there would have been no doubt that you and Donnie would be together by now,”

“Hey I wouldn’t trade you for anything,” I smiled. “And if… if Donnie wants to be… whatever the heck this is, I can handle it.”

“But you shouldn’t have to,” April said. “I want you to be happy Y/n. And I want you back at the lair. I… I just want you to have your life back,”

“It wouldn’t be as fun without you.”

“I know,” She laughed. “But I am going to talk to Donnie,” She must have seen the horror on my face. “Not about you! God no! But I’m gonna tell him that I don’t feel that way about him, and hopefully he gets the message,”

I nodded. “Thanks April,”

When April had told me that Donnie took their talk semi-well, I still gave it a few weeks before I headed to the lair, not wanting to have to pick up the aftermath of his shattered fantasy.

With end of Spring, I had my family back.

There was a cool distance between Donnie and I that was slowly thawing until I was back in his lab reading and he was fidgeting with his tools. It took another week for him to ask me about my book. And another week for him to take me home. And a few more days for his smile to be back. And a couple more for mine to stay. I wrestled with what had happened in the winter and spring, trying to look for the other shoe to drop.

But when the six of us played a board game, or watched movies or even had dinner, all that was felt was camaraderie. Donnie didn’t notice April anymore and he backed down. Raph kept a careful eye just like I did. When he caught my stare, Raph rose an eyebrow at me, glancing to Donnie. I shrugged and smiled.

I didn’t know.

And I think that was okay.

I think I was okay.

With summer, meant my birthday. June 14th. The boys and April insisted on throwing a big party for me in the lair with cake and presents and music and dancing. I hadn’t laughed so much in months.

Donnie offered to walk me home, like always. Like old times. Like now.

We were standing on my roof, all I had to do was climb down the fire escape to the apartment April and I shared.

“Happy birthday,” His smile was back, and God I had missed it. All of the careful walls I had built around myself came crashing down at the simple gesture.

“Thanks Donnie,”

And in the starlight of the roof, alone with the city alive beneath us, he leaned in and his lips were on mine. A stolen kiss that had me wrecked.

Donnie pulled away, wonder in my eyes, and confusion in his.

“I—I’m sorry,” He stammered out, his brows pulling together.

“It’s… it’s okay,” I managed a smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, backing away. “That… I didn’t mean—it was a mistake,” He choked out.

My body jerked back with the rejection that crashed over it.

“What?” My voice was as cold as ice.

“I—I don’t know why I did that.”

“Oh, okay,” I managed.

He was gone like a shadow in the night and I stood there frozen.

…………………………………

I must have been up there for too long, because April came up to find me.

“Hey are you okay?” Her voice was concerned.

“Um,” Was all I could manage.

“What happened? Donnie came back and he’s not talking. He’s barricaded himself in his lab.”

“Um.” I said again. “He… he kissed me.”

“Oh my God that’s amazing!” April celebrated, but paused when she saw the dread in my eyes. “Then what happened?”

“He. Um. Said it was a mistake.” I choked out.

“I—I’m—I’m actually going to kill him,” April said. “He said that? To you!? After kissing you!?” She was outraged, and maybe I should have been too, but it was like my entire body had gone into a comatose. She took my hands into hers. I met her eyes. Tears finally thawed and started to fall.

“Oh, honey come here,” She pulled me into a hug and I started crying. Every tear I had denied finally rushed forward, and soon I was sobbing on that roof.

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked her, miserable. We had made it back to the flat, and we were curled up on my bed.

“No, honey, you didn’t.” April soothed, petting my hair.

The next morning he was standing in my living room. The two of us. Standing like we had not twenty four hours ago. But the morning was different. Now I couldn’t bare to be near him. It was only because April said I should at least get closure this time that I was even out here.

I stared at him, my lips pursed, waiting for him to say something.

“I’m sorry,” He blurted out. “That—what I said, it wasn’t what I meant.” He started pacing anxiously. “Look, I know that I hurt you with that whole April thing, and I haven’t apologized for that and I really should and I want to!” His words began tumbling together in his nervousness. “And I wanted to do that before I ever did anything else, and God definitely before kissing you, but you were there so close on that roof and you were just beautiful, and I—I’m so sorry,”

I blinked. My face when through a series of expressions before settling on shocked confusion.

“I know!” Donnie insisted. “God, I know and I’m so sorry Y/n. Especially for not explaining last night. But I was panicking and—“ He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for chasing after April like I did. I genuinely thought that you’d never want me like that. And that was a dick thing for me to do. And I’m sorry for hurting you for so long.” He smiled a bit. “And I’m sorry for crossing your boundaries last night. And for not sticking around and explaining. Also a dick move on my part. So… yeah,” He nodded, not daring to meet my eyes.

“Um. Okay,” I managed. “Uh… wow.”

“I know it’s a lot. I’m sorry,” He said.

“You can stop apologizing Donnie,” I gave a small laugh. “That’s um… alright. Thanks? I think?”

“Are you mad?” His eyes met mine. “I don’t know…” I confessed. “Um I think I need a minute. Or two,”

“Right! Yeah! Of course! Take as much time as you need!” He said backing away. “Um—I’m gonna go and give you space, but you can come over or call or anything anytime—we are still having game night tonight, so if you want to come—not that you have to!” He was an anxious mess again.

I placed my hand on his arm to stop him. “Thank you,” I smiled pointedly.

“Right, um… I’ll just be off then,” He nodded, backing away. “Bye.”

“Bye?” I laughed. And like that he was gone again. “Hey April?” I called, knowing she heard all of that.

She emerged from her room.

“You heard all of that right?” I clarified.

“Every word,” She was grinning.

“Why does it all feel so weird?” I asked. “Like really weird.”

“Because that my dear,” April said. “Was emotional maturity.”

“Is that what that looks like?”

“For the most part,” April nodded. “So, what are you feeling?”

“That, it all makes sense? And I want to believe him? And that its still really weird,”

“All fair feelings,” April said.

The hours ticked by until game night at the lair. April and I had gone back and forth about going or not. And when it came time to it… I was putting on my sneakers and grabbing my bag.

I walked into the lair and I felt every stare on me. I was only looking for one gaze though.

“Hey,” He said, getting up, looking genuinely surprised that I was there.

“Hey.” I smiled. “Can we talk?”

Tags: @brightlotusmoon@boatloadsofheart@legandarybeauty@crazywritingbug@bitch-kms@ravn-87@just-a-casual-fangirl-011@unicornjoos @stuckoutsideofthebox@ilikestuffproductions@whygz@coffee-addicti@sugarspooks15@leslieebee@serperiorkb@blossom-skies@fantastical-67impala-fangirl@coresan@big-banging-red@iceprincess2019@raphaeladdict@thirstyforvenom @merindagriese@depressedemo-152@bengewatch@corabmarie@bitemebro522@tmnt-queen@muleka-loka@violet-sky-96 @curadopordeus@artemismohr18 @thewhisperpen @xjupitermoonsx@bisexualbumblebeesstuf f @merindagriese @oceans-daughter-3 @dixonreedusfangirlforever@shanidenise@thegayestfish441@lovelyyroseee@yourlieberhoe@dolphincommander@molzies-fanfics@fuzzy-panda@msmcsmutt @zombiesnips-blog

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sebastiansluts · 2 months

Note

Request: both bucky and the winter soldier make you lick their sweaty bodies( balls,armpits,pecs,feet) and force you to drink their piss

this one is more thots written out than a full on fic

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Winter Solder x Reader; dub/non-con; sweat kink, body worship- balls, armpits, pecs, feet; piss kink- piss drinking,

ANY HATE WILL BE DELETED THIS IS A JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE DON'T LIKE, DON'T INTERACT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

Okay but being held down by the winter soldier while bucky is holding your head into his pecs? Bucky is straddling your hips, his legs holding yours down effortlessly, his hands on his pecs, framing them and pushing them together around your head, smothering you. Your hands were held down by the impossible grip of the winter soldier. He held you immobile as you licked desperately at bucky’s chest.

Bucky finally letting you breathe, but only for a moment before he’s got you buried in his armpit, smelling his sweat and breathing in his stink as you licked at him. Until the winter soldier gets impatient, and he shoves bucky aside, dragging his balls over your face, teabagging you as you scrambled to reach for something, anything, finding bucky’s hands. He grips yours hands tightly keeping you where he wants you, letting the soldier do what he wants. The soldier sits back and pushes his feet into your face, dragging the soles of them over your tongue, forcing you to lick in between his toes, pressing down on your tongue with his big toe.

Both of them kneeling on your arms, up by your head, not letting you up, or control anything. They both grip their dicks, the soldier using his metal hand to reach down and grab your chin, forcing your mouth open. They put the tips of their dicks in your mouth and being pissing, your mouth filling until you swallow, and swallow and swallow, over and over again, bucky and the winter soldier are pissing, forcing you to drink it all.

#rose writes #smut #no y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier smut #the winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier smut #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier

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bitchysoulwasteland · 5 months

Text

No one but you.

Bucky Barnes X Vamp!Reader

A/n: my Queen obsession once again reveals itself, but, hey, I’m happy, so who cares?

You and Bucky had known each other back in the 1970s when you had been the front woman of Queen. Back then, of course, he was the Winter Soldier and you were an unknown singer when you met in 1968 with a struggling band desperate to find a frontman and a bassist. It was just you, Roger Taylor and Brian May back then. You were all still college students in your final year in the band ‘Smile’, which was before Freddie’s flamboyant changing of the band’s name.

You had met the Winter Solder at a pub in London. You had brought him a drink after you saw him outside, looking physically beaten up. From then, he hung out with you and the band. He had been there when Freddie and Deacy joined. When you had recorded your first song. When you had left Trident Studios and joined EMI.

But, he then disappeared. He was gone without a trace which left a gaping hole of longing within your soul itself.

This was when your songs started to be discarded from albums. They began to not even be recorded. You had lost your muse, seemingly your reason for life itself. The lads in the band noticed this before anyone else did.

It was a few years of heartbreak before everyone lost you. More than metaphorically, of course.

It was 1975 when you disappeared. You wrote a note to the band, apologising for your absence, resigned from the contract with EMI and moved to America.

You had given up with your life, so you were pray to those who would try to harm you. You were vulnerable and loved a good alcoholic drink, so it was easy for the sod that turned you into a vampire to do so. You didn’t really remember it, but you did know that you had been fending for yourself since then.

The only good thing to come of it, was that you no longer had to worry about how your soldier left you. You didn’t have to. You pushed it to the back of your mind and tried to forget about it.

You had your mansion, your alcohol and your memories of Queen to get you through. You had also befriended a vampire called Damon Salvatore and another called Stefan Salvatore who lived a few roads away from you.

It got to the point where you were basically living in their place more than your own. You and Damon often got blackout drunk and would go around Mystic Falls just for the hell of it, which would then result in Stefan having to clear up your mess.

Present day: Mystic Falls

The Quinjet landed in a field beside a mansion. There had been a system failure, so Steve had to land it. The Avengers walked out of the jet, Bucky at the back. They walked to the door and Steve knocked on the oak.

Inside, you got up from the sofa and answered the door, somewhat shocked the Captain America was there.

“Win?” You said, seeing the soldier behind Steve.

“Y/n? You’re alive?”

“Un-bloody-fortunately, yeah. Come in, all of you.” You said, letting them in.

“I thought you’d died, doll.”

“I couldn’t do it after you left.”

“Do what?”

“Queen, life, any of it. I gave up. I wrote the lads a note before I left…. It hurt Win. It hurt so fucking much.” You said as Bucky wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m sorry, doll.” Bucky said, slightly tightening his embrace.

“It wasn’t your fault. With the whole Hydra and mind wipe thing I knew it would come eventually. Just maybe not so soon.”

A knock came from the door. “Y/n, I brought Jack Daniels.” It was Damon, there for the monthly drown your sorrows meeting you two would have.

“I guess you found someone else, huh doll?” Bucky said before letting go of you and walking into the living room as you answered the door, letting Damon in. You left the door open and vamp speeded to Bucky.

“It’s not like that, Win. It has never been like that. Not with him and not with anyone else, alright? And if you don’t believe me, you can ask him.”

Bucky looked you in your eyes. “You sure, doll?”

“There’s no one, Win. No one but you.”

Bucky smiled, embracing you once again. Damon stood in the doorway, happy that you had found Bucky again.

#avengers #x reader #queen band #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you

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cheeriecherrymain · 1 year

Text

The Bottom Of The Inkwell [Chapter 7]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Chapter Rating: T Chapter Warnings: like one swear word Proofread: god no, no beta we die like men Chapter Summary: You have a nice conversation with your mother, which immediately turns sour when she tries to get you and Viktor to attend the winter gala together. Later, V finally lets you know that he wants to meet you, and it causes more anxiety than you thought would.

When you wake up the next morning, you’re cozy and warm.

Still addled with sleep, it takes you a couple moments to register the fuzzy blanket tossed over you, and the soft hum of a space heater set up nearby. It’s strange, you think, because you don’t remember having gone to be with either of those things.

You also don’t remember falling asleep on Viktor.

But apparently you did, because once your senses come back to you, you’re very obviously not alone on the couch: you’re tucked up at his side, your head resting on his chest, and a soft blanket is arranged over both of you.

He wouldn’t have been able to do it, squished under you like he is.

You stare blankly at a spot on the wall as you remain frozen where you are, memories of the previous night coming back.

After dinner, the two of you had gone back down to the workshop, in hopes of ironing out a few more details of your project. It had already been late by then, and both of you were drowsy from the hot meal you’d had - you hadn’t managed to get much done.

But you’d kept at it regardless, attempting in vain to understand lightbulbs.

It had taken another couple of hours for either of you to give up, but as soon as your vision had started going blurry, and you’d burned your finger on a soldering pen, Viktor had called it a night. You’d whined, trying to convince him that you were still fine to keep working, and he-

Oh. Right.

You’d been petulant in your exhausted state, and he’d only managed to get you to sleep because he’d wrapped his arms around you and held you down.

Both of you would have been more comfortable in a bed, you think, but you understand his intent: if either of your parents found you sharing a mattress, regardless of your clothing status, they’d be…displeased.

Considering the blanket and the space heater, though, you wonder if you’ve not already been found out.

It takes a couple of tries, but eventually you manage to pry yourself out of Viktor’s arms, taking extra caution as to not wake him. You know that his sleep schedule is worse than yours, even if only marginally, and while the dorm beds were comfortable, they weren’t perfect. You want him to get as much rest as he can, while he can.

—

When you wander up to the main floor of the manor, all the lights are off. Dim brightness filters in through the multitude of windows in each room, but you suspect it’s still early in the morning - it’s too dark to be long past sunrise.

You wonder if you’re wrong, though, when you take a peek out the glass. The sky is solid grey and overcast, and from the cloud tumble fat snowflakes, which gather upon the ground and stick to whatever else they touch.

A short burst of excitement courses through your body, and you can’t contain the smile that tugs at your lips. It hadn’t snowed in Piltover for years! The last time you remember such copious amounts of white fluff, you’d been young enough that you’d still enjoyed running around in the fresh air to build snowmen.

You have half the mind to pull on a jacket and go for a walk, before the city truly wakes up.

But your growling stomach apparently has other plans.

You wander quietly towards the kitchen, wondering to yourself if it was still too early to make breakfast. Or maybe there are leftovers from last night, you think, though you’re not sure you can palate something so rich after just waking up.

“Is that you, dear?” a soft voice calls from another room, as soon as you get close to the fridge.

You turn in surprise, only to find your mother peeking around the archway that leads to her study. How she’d managed to hear you moving through the house, you had no idea, but you turn your attention to her anyways.

“It’s me, mama,” you say, coming to stand just inside her office.

She’s out of her motorized chair for once, settled on a well-cushioned chaise. She has a book in her lap, illuminated by a warm lamp, despite the large window that sits just behind her.

It really strikes you, then - just how frail she looks. When you’d arrived last night, she’d seemed more lively than she had in years prior. She had been happy to see you, full of excitement and hugs and conversation.

But now, in the silence of the drowsy morning? She looked…older. She isn’t even fifty, and yet you can see a deep sense of tiredness behind her sunken eyes; creases where there hadn’t been any before, a deep downward curve in her shoulders, silver hairs sprouting out of her head in clumps.

She smiles at you when you enter, and beckons you closer.

“Quiet as a mouse, you are,” she utters fondly, pulling you down onto the chaise beside her. “What are you doing up so early?”

You tuck your feet up and fall sideways, until your cheek comes to rest in her lap. “I don’t know,” you admit, “Maybe I’m used to it by now? Classes start pretty early in the day, and I don’t like to be late.”

She hums in consideration. “You and Viktor were up quite late. I was sure we wouldn’t see either of you until past noon.”

You huff a quiet laugh. “We weren’t up any later than usual,” you tell her. “I guess it’s just become a habit? It’s probably not a bad thing, though - I honestly don’t miss the fact that I used to sleep the day away.”

Her hand comes to rest on the side of your head, fingertips gently stroking the soft hairs by your temples.

“You’ve grown so much since you left, you know?” She sounds as sad as she does proud. “It feels like so short a time ago that your father and I would tuck you into bed and kiss you goodnight, making sure to leave the door open just a smidge, so you could have some light.”

“We always wanted you to have opportunities. You know that your father was the youngest of nine - his parents never really had time for him or his interests, no matter how he tried to get their attention. And I…” she trails off for a moment, and you wait silently under her touch.

“ I never had anyone,” she finally says, voice barely a whisper. “No family, no friends - I lost them all, one by one as I grew. It was a miracle your father and I even met once, but to have met him again and again after that? I am no believer in the divine, but sometimes I wonder if perhaps fate exists.”

A strange feeling flutters in your stomach, settled somewhere between dread and despair - not quite anxiety, not quite fear, just…resigned. Resigned to an inevitable grief that you are suddenly all too aware of.

“ I wanted you to have more than I ever did,” she murmurs, “and I think that maybe, in my attempts to give you more, I…pushed you too hard.”

You frown.

“You didn’t push me, mama.”

“Didn’t I?” she retorts. “Forcing you to socialize with people you despised, always making you look pretty and fit the part of debutante? I was too strict with you, and I pushed my own ideals down your throat, completely unaware of the fact that it might not be what you wanted.”

Your chest tightens, thinking of how only months ago, you couldn’t wait to be on your own - away from your overbearing parents, and able to make your own choices.

“I didn’t want you to be alone in life, like I had been.”

“You’re not alone, mama,” you creak, blinking away the tears budding in your eyes. “You’ve got papa. You’ve got me.”

She considers your words for a couple of seconds.

“This is true,” she nods, drawing gentle designs on your scalp with her nails. “But you have your own life to live, and your own people to meet - like that Viktor boy. He has a good head on his shoulders.” And softer, “Not many folks from the undercity get chances like he has.”

All at once, confusion replaces your overwhelming dread.

Viktor was from the undercity?

True, you considered him a great friend, but he’d never…told you about any of that. He’d always been somewhat shy to share details of his past, and you had never pressed him on it. You’d supplemented his quiet nature with your own boisterous stories, filling in any blanks he drew with a glimpse into your own life.

You supposed it made sense, then, why he’d been so hesitant to tell you anything.

“You didn’t know?” your mother wonders, and you shake your head.

“I suppose it takes one to know one,” she sighs. “Don’t judge him for it, darling-”

“I would never,” you cut her off quickly, tilting your head so you can look up at her. “I would never judge him for something like that. I don’t care where he’s from, as long as he’s Viktor.”

You pause for a few moments, letting your cheek come to rest on her thigh again. “I didn’t know you from the undercity,” you admit, somewhat surprised. “You always said you met papa at the fanciest place in the area.”

“Fanciest place in the undercity,” she laughs, as she recalls the memory, “Poor man got lost and turned around, and had no idea how to get back to the academy. He may have been a little intoxicated, out for the night with his mates.”

You smile at the image your mind conjures.

“I happened to be the poor soul that took pity on him, and showed him the way back. Never expected to be more than a memory to him, but then…the fool came back. With flowers. Said he wanted to thank me for the help the other night, and offered to take me to dinner.”

You stare up at her incredulously. “And you said yes?!”

“Heavens no!” she chortles. “I told him to leave me alone and let me do my job. But he was persistent! He kept coming back to where I worked - offered to fix up parts of the building that needed repairs, free of charge. My boss couldn’t say no to a deal like that.”

You wrinkle your nose. “He kept asking you out?” you wonder in distaste, eyeing her carefully from the side. “Even after you said no?”

“He didn’t,” she clarifies swiftly, easing some of the tension from your shoulders. “He never mentioned it again - not even once. He worked hard to help improve the place where I worked, so that more people would come around and I might be able to make more money. He was polite to me, but he never expected more. He just…wanted to make my life easier, as a way to thank me for a small kindness.”

She continues her story in good humour, regaling the tale of how your father had consistently made a fool of himself, all in an attempt to repay your mother for having a kind heart. How he would trip over himself to aid her, offer assistance whenever something was no more than a mild nuisance.

“ I eventually let him know that he could take me out to dinner, if the offer was still on the table.” she finishes. “He almost fell off the ladder he was sitting on when I told him! We…got married three months later.”

You’re strangely comforted by the story of your mother’s past - now knowing that everything she’d done, she’d done because she wanted you to have a better life than she had.

Of course, it didn’t erase the fact that she’d been tough on you in your youth, pushy to the point of silencing you…but maybe it was just what she was used to. You had been growing up, and turning into your own person, but she had been growing and learning as well.

You’d had differing ideals, and you had both been coming to terms with it.

She’d always loved you, though, and the realization brings you a sense of peace you hadn’t even known you were looking for.

But then she continues speaking, “All of this is to say…that you seem very close to your Viktor.”

“It’s not like that!” you speak, staring up at her with wide eyes.

“I never said it was,” she teases, looking down at you with the most shit-eating smirk you’ve ever seen her wear.

She pinches your cheek slightly, and leans down to press a kiss to the offended area. “In any case, I’m glad you’ve made a friend. Your father and I were always so worried, watching you hide yourself away in your workshop, all alone.”

You smile.

“I love you, mama.”

—

It takes a few hours, but eventually the rest of the house wakes up. The sky lightens considerably, though it still remains clouded, and a sense of warmth and coziness arises.

You take over the task of cooking breakfast for everyone, much to your father’s displeasure. You would hardly call yourself a chef, but you’re no stranger to making your own meals - in the past, it hadn’t been strange for you to scrape your own dinner together in the middle of the night.

But the way he hovers over you is somewhat frustrating.

“Papa, if you don’t go and sit down, I’m going to purposefully burn your potatoes,” you threaten, causing a comical look of horror to stretch across his face. He grumbles a bit about your cruelty, mumbling all the way over to the table, where he sits with a pout.

You can see Viktor and your mother hiding their smiles from the corner of your eye.

The four of you chat amicably while you crack eggs over a frying pan, updating both your parents on how your classes are going, and sharing the stories of whatever antics you and your friend got up to - most of which are unexciting tales of staying up too late in order to finish your homework.

“You two are peas in a pod,” your mother sighs wistfully. “Truly academic, and focused on the future.”

“Are you calling us boring, mama?” you quip, feigning offense.

“No, nothing like that, darling,” she mumbles, “though you could stand to let loose from time to time. Go to a party, meet some people, relax.”

You scrunch your nose up at the thought of being squished into close proximity with any number of your classmates, forced to make smalltalk and drink disgustingly dry champagne. “No thanks.”

“Leave her be, love,” your father says, laying a hand on her shoulder. “There aren’t really any parties at the academy anyways, save for the winter gala. Small gatherings are…ah…discouraged, we shall say.”

Your mother looks puzzled.

“Dorm parties are considered gross misconduct,” Viktor supplies. “Any non-official events hosted on campus will typically be grounds for dismissal.”

Even with his explanation, your mother only seems more confused. She doesn’t say more on the matter, but it’s clear that she has some thoughts about it.

Only once you’re finished making everyone’s meals, and have set the plates out on the table to eat, does she speak out.

“So the only social events you get to attend are…galas?” she questions, carefully choosing a couple pieces of fruit from the bowl in the center of the table. You confirm her suspicions, and she’s nearly incredulous with disbelief. “That’s hardly enough time to wind down! Love, didn’t you say that the galas were networking in disguise? How is that meant to be a decent time?”

Your father pauses. “If it’s still the same as when I was a student,” he says, around a mouthful of potatoes.

You watch in amusement as your parents begin bickering back and forth, nitpicking little things and arguing about your curriculum.

“I promise they don’t usually argue this much,” you whisper, leaning over so Viktor can hear you. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them this morning.”

But instead of looking upset by their actions, your friend is smiling.

“It’s charming,” he assures you, and the two of you go back to eating.

It takes a couple of minutes for your mother and father to calm down, having talked themselves in circles so badly that they didn’t even realize they were trying to argue the same point. Neither of them have the decency to look embarrassed by their outburst, and you can hardly fault them for it - it adds a lighthearted air between the four of you.

“Do they even still have the winter gala?” your father asks after settling.

You screw your face up in distaste.

“They do,” you admit, “but it’s more exclusive than it used to be, I think. Only the top ten students of any class get invitations, now - something to do with sponsors ‘only wanting the best’. Needless to say, I won’t be going.”

Everyone sours slightly.

“Are you not at the top of your classes?” your mother questions with a frown, certain that you’d told her otherwise.

“No, I…am…” you grumble. “I just don’t want to go.”

You wince as soon as the words leave your mouth. You can see the way her eyes light up at your admission - the same look you’d seen countless times as a child, when she was trying to corral you into some poofy, stuffy dress so you could socialize among high society.

You shoot her a withering glance, but she pays absolutely no mind to it.

“Darling, why won’t you go? Imagine the people you could meet!”

“I don’t find the idea of being squished into an itchy dress for hours on end to be fun,” you protest, stabbing your fork into a piece of fried potato. “The shoes are pinchy, and my classmates are snotty, and I’ve no interest in making polite conversation with people who are judging my every breath.” Softer, “I’ve no one to go with, anyways.”

The table falls into silence.

And then into chaos as a wry smile stretches across your mother’s lips.

“Why not go with Viktor?” she wonders.

The two of you choke on your food.

“What?!” you squeak, at the same time Viktor says, “Pardon me?”

Your mother immediately starts listing off all the benefits of attending the winter gala together - having each other to lean on, having someone to talk to, having someone to dance and get drunk with.

“Mama,” you groan, slouching back in your seat, “You know I’m not the dancing type.”

“Nor am I,” Viktor adds, and you swear you can see pink dusting across his cheeks.

“Besides, neither of us have any kind of formal wear - and yes, mother, I know you could make something for me, but I’d rather you not.”

She opens her mouth to say more, but you cut her off.

“I’m not going.”

—

Evidently, your mother bribes you into going.

She goes on a tangent the moment you put your foot down, trying her hardest to convince you that you’ll have a good time. It’s a far cry from the comforting talk the two of you had earlier, and the sudden change in personality throws you for a loop.

But no matter how hard you’d tried to resist her - disputed her claims of how much you would love the food and music and pretty dresses - she gets you. She ropes Viktor into the discussion, promising him that if he escorted you to the gala, she’d find some suitable clothes for him.

In his defense, he’d also tried to decline her offer, albeit more politely than you.

But your mother is, at her core, a very convincing woman. Stubborn and hardheaded, she always gets her way - that’s just how it is.

She finally lets you and Viktor go from the table after you agree to let her dress you for the party, and the two of you skitter away to the basement to continue working on your final project.

You spend a good portion of the afternoon apologizing to him for the way your mother was stepping out of line. He doesn’t seem incredibly bothered by the situation -if he is, he doesn’t show it- and in fact only looks a little bit awkward.

Which makes sense, the more you think about it. In all your time knowing him, he’s never been particularly socially inclined, preferring to work on his own and keep to himself. He’s not terrible at conversation by any means, but being from the undercity, you highly doubt he has much experience with fancy parties.

If he even has any.

Still, he assures you that he’s mostly alright with it, and promises that if worse comes to worst, the two of you can always skip the party and say you went.

—

V, I have had literally such a terrible day.

Now, close to midnight, you’re hunched over the old desk in your bedroom to complain to your best friend.

You and Viktor had worked on your project throughout the day, and had hammered out a lot of the details. You’d run some tests on the first iteration of the lightbulb and noted the results, pointing out things that you wanted to change, or that worried you.

It functioned well enough, but you wanted to tweak the brightness just a little - which would involve rewiring the diodes and making them bigger by four percent, which would mean you’d have to alter the amount of metal you coiled in the base, which would mean taking the entire thing apart and re-casting everything, which would mean…

You could go on for hours.

What happened?

You stare at the words as they appear in your journal.

Well. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the worst day - just hectic. I’m at my parents’ place for the weekend, and I brought my partner with me. We needed some stuff from my workshop in order to complete our final project. Which…if I’m being honest, we’re probably going to have to repeat, in order to finish.

Repeat the project?

No, no, I mean we’re probably going to have to come back next weekend. Gah, not only for the project, though. My mom coerced the two of us into attending the winter gala, and she put up the biggest fuss about it.

That sounds less than pleasant. I didn’t know you even got an invitation?

I wasn’t going to tell you, initially. I figured it might suggest who I am, and you said you weren’t ready for that yet. But I’m so frustrated, I just needed to tell you, before I ripped all my hair out.

Ah…well, I appreciate the consideration, nonetheless.

Sorry. I just…my mom and I had such a good conversation this morning. I woke up before everyone else, and she was reading in her study, and we sat together and had such a good talk. She apologized for being hard on me, growing up, and gave me a lot of context for the way she acted. But then just a couple hours later, it was like a switch flipped in her head, and she was back to her usual overbearing self.

Maybe she’s just trying to push you out of your comfort zone? The winter gala is a fairly big event for the academy, and a lot of sponsors will be there - she knows that. Maybe it’s her way of saying that she wants you to have a different future than the one she initially planned?

I- what do you mean?

Well, you’ve said in the past that she wanted to marry you off. First as soon as you were old enough, and then as soon as you finished school. Maybe she considers the networking opportunities as a way of…I don’t know. Deciding your own future?

I hadn’t thought of it like that. I’m still annoyed with her, but…I guess I can go easy on her. For now.

In any case, I’m…actually kind of grateful that she’s enticed you into attending.

What? V, why?

Because I’ve been thinking. My life has calmed down a lot since I came to Piltover - nothing is as new and stressful as it used to be, and I’ve fallen into a pretty comfortable routine. The only thing that still causes me grief is the fact that you and I have yet to meet face to face.

Are you…saying what I think you’re saying?

I want to see you. I want to know your name, I want to hear you laugh, and see your smile.

Veeeeeeeeeeee

I wasn’t going to be attending the gala, but now I think it might be a nice place to get together, don’t you think? Food, drinks, music - and if we don’t like the atmosphere, we can leave and go somewhere else. You said you know all kinds of little restaurants all over the city.

I do! I know so many restaurants, and all the food is so tasty!

So what do you say?

I’d love to meet you! We can sort out the details another time, though. I still have no idea what I’m wearing.

That makes two of us. But I’ll be looking forward to it.

Me too!

—

You’d been thinking about sleeping, before you’d started speaking with V. You and Viktor had gone to your roms earlier than the previous night, in hopes that you might sleep a little better than on a lumpy old couch.

You hadn’t taken into account the fact that you weren’t sleepy. And now, knowing that your friend of so many years finally wanted to see you? Face to face? In real life?

There’s no way you’ll be able to lay still and rest.

So instead of curling up in bed and inevitably staying awake for ages, you decide to tiptoe downstairs for a cup of tea. You boil the water in a pot instead of a kettle, lest it wake someone up with its incessant screaming, let it steep with loose lemongrass, mint, and dried citrus chunks.

You complete the brew with a teaspoon of honey and tiny bit of milk, and then wander into the sitting room, where you find a seat in your favourite bay window that overlooks the street below.

The room is cast into shadow for the most part, with only the barest hints illuminated by the glow from outside. It’s enough to avoid bumping your knees on the furniture as you weave over to where you settle.

You sip your tea.

Is the winter gala really a good time to meet V, you wonder. Your mother had all but forced you to attend, but you weren’t the only one she’d bribed. Viktor had been one of her unfortunate victims as well, and he was even less inclined to the party than you were!

You didn’t want to abandon him for someone else - he was your friend too, and you were the one responsible for his reluctant attendance.

But would V be alright if you brought someone along with you?

The two of them were so similar, you have to believe that they’ll get along. There’s no way they wouldn’t! Especially with their similar backgrounds, they’d have a sense of understanding with each other that they probably wouldn’t get from anyone else.

But what if V didn’t understand?

What if he wanted the night to be just the two of you?

You sip your tea.

Months ago, that would have been your dream, but now? Now, you can’t help thinking that such a sentiment would hurt Viktor, and hurting Viktor is the last thing you want to do. You care about him. You like him - you like spending time with him, and you like talking to him, and you like laughing with him. He makes you feel lightheaded and comfortable, like you’ve never been around so many others.

You sip your tea.

V cares about you, you know. He’s your best friend. He’s reasonable and supportive.

He would understand that you had a previous engagement, right?

But fuck, you’d already agreed to mett him at the gala.

You sip your tea.

“I thought you went to bed?”

You spill your tea, when a soft, lilted voice speaks from just behind you.

“Viktor!” you squeak, turning to him with wide, startled eyes. He looks apologetic in some sense, though the sparkle in his eyes only suggests amusement. “Look - I’ve gotten tea all over my sweater.”

“My condolences,” he smirks, taking a seat across from you.

You fix him with the most deadpan glare you can muster, but as things usually go with him, it’s only a few seconds before the corner of your mouth tugs upwards.

“I can’t sleep,” you admit, “I thought a cup of tea would help my thoughts.”

“And?”

“No such luck.”

He hums in agreement, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. Staring out the window at the snowy cobbled road below, watching as the fat flakes continue to tumble from the sky. It’s peaceful.

“Have you ever been in love?”

It’s less peaceful.

“Pardon?” you ask, glancing over at him.

Viktor continues to watch the weather, and repeats himself, “Have you ever been in love?”

That’s what you thought he said.

“I…” you stare into the depths of the mug in your hands, contemplating. “I used to think I was…”

You sip your tea.

“I had a friend, growing up,” you explain quietly. “He was…kind of of my only friend, actually. He’s actually the one who got me into technology and machinery! We could talk about anything and everything - no topic was too strange or taboo for us.”

You sip your tea, and continue, “I used to think I was in love with him. Our situation is kind of…complicated…but I was positive I had feelings for him.”

Viktor’s gaze flits over to you. “What changed?” he asks, and you shrug.

“I set foot in the real world?” you suggest. “I dunno. I’ve never actually met the guy - we just…wrote letters to each other. And don’t get me wrong, I do love him, but now I just. I don’t know if I’m in love with him. He was never ready to meet me face to face, and I understand! But I’ve met other people now, and the feelings…feel different.”

You sip your tea.

“Sorry, that probably doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

To your surprise, Viktor shakes his head. “No, it does,” he agrees, “You know this boy very well -better than most, probably- but it’s only in writing. You don’t know each other’s nuances - the sound of laughter, skin blemishes, nervous habits. You know his mind, and his thoughts, but not…not the rest…”

He trails off.

You sip your tea.

“What about you?” you ask. “Ever been in love?”

He’s quiet for a moment, then, “Yes.”

“It’s complicated,” he extends, “But yes.”

You’re not sure why your heart sinks so heavily in your chest, falling from its usual resting place all the way into the pit of your stomach. You don’t like it.

You sip your tea.

“Whoever they are, they’re lucky,” you say. “You’re a good person, Viktor, and you’re going to do incredible things in life.”

Nothing could have possibly prepared you for the way his gaze bores into you with such a raw intensity - full of unspoken passion and a drive to change the world, fuelled by warm, ever-present compassion.

“So are you.” His tone is resolute, as if he has the utmost confidence in his words. “Whoever your friend is, whoever it is that you feel for - they’re fortunate to have you be a part of their life. You are…a ray of warm sunlight, breaking through the clouds in the cold recesses of winter.”

And like they have so many times before, the words he utters makes your heart rise back into your chest, fluttering quickly against your ribcage. You can’t explain how you feel about him, but you’re certain it goes beyond the love of a friend. Could you spend your life with him? Could you love him? Do you love him?

You set your tea down on the windowsill, and roll forward onto your knees.

“Viktor,” you murmur.

He glances away from the window, a pleasant pink dusting his pale cheeks.

You reach for him, and take his face gently in your hand, watching for a moment as the pretty colour blooms further over his skin.

You kiss him.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #The Bottom Of The Inkwell #now kiss

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6rookie-writer0110 · 4 months

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Could you write a Kara Danvers x Winter Solder male reader x Lena Luthor x Sam Arias smut?

I could write that

#requested

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allyleetheo · 7 months

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Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks....

I had a hard time only picking 10 so I settled on 14! (I have so many favourite characters from so many thing so this is only a list of who I read x reader fan fics of, they are all my fictional crushes)

My fav character for reader insists (Not in any particular order) Bakugo Katski from My hero academia, Bucky Barns 'Winter solder' and Loki from Marvel, Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottem from Harry Potter, Steve Harington and Eddie Munson from Stranger Things, Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds, Aemond Targaryen from House of the Dragon, Neteyam te Suli from Avatar: The way of water, Eli Moskowitz 'Hawk' from Cobra Kai, Sanji Vinsmoke and Zoro Ronoroa from One Piece (live action), Gally from Maze Runner.

What are some of yours?

If you wanna know more just ask!

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ann-era · 2 years

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Dionysus (Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader) [r18]

Title: Dionysus [r18]

Pairing(s) : Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k+

Tags / Warnings(?): established relationship, smut, choking, creampie, light bondage, fluff, asgardian!reader, slight angst, minors DNI

**by proceeding to read, you agree you are aware of the warnings / tags.

Bucky scans the key card on the electronic reader. With the locks and security alarm on the front door disabled, he pushed the heavy door with little to no effort, waiting for you to enter first.

“There was a lot of firepower and you’re not exactly bulletproof.” Bucky made an attempt to rub the back of his neck - his expression shifting painfully. More likely from the faux pas than the actual pain he’s pretending to have.

“It would have been a lot less fireproof if you'd let me help in the first place!” You retorted angrily, jabbing a finger into his shoulder.

Bucky won’t dignify your accusations with an answer. He was far too pissed off to actually even try to.

You on the other hand didn’t appreciate his deus ex machina attempt in the skirmish. You had it under control. Now everyone is going to associate your rescue to the Winter Soldier of all people.

“You had a five minute window to extract the haul - there was at least three times the amount of firepower than there was in Argentina. How did you plan on getting out of there alone?”

Bucky pursed his lips, his silky hair catching the light of the dim yellow lighting of the bedroom he had just switched on.

Your silence was deafening.

“Right - you can’t answer me. Because you don’t think these things over! Thor was right - you’re really not cut out for this.” He sucks a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Don’t baby me.” You spat back.

You had tailed this terrorist group for months - only to have Winter Soldier saving the day.

“I’m not babying you.” He shrugged off his flannel shirt, tossing it into the laundry basket without much care.

He could hear the loud clanking of what is most likely - you, putting your collapsible bow and arrows away into the vault. The loud beeping noises the metal doors made once locked only confirmed his theory.

He sighed for like the twentieth time today - he might as well take a shower, you were making dinner tonight so it was his turn to do the dishes .

You and him ate your dinner in silence, neither one wanting to escalate nor diffuse the tension. Picking on your roasted potatoes with a metal fork, you barely had any appetite, you didn't even touch the beef goulash. You pushed your plate aside, not really trusting your own stomach to eat anything due to your nerves.

Picking up your plate and cup quietly without a word, he carried them over to the sink.

The rhythmic sound of someone doing the dishes lulled a false sense of normalcy somewhat.

That in the chaos you both lived in - there was peace in it too.

Bucky heard your soft footfalls as you made your way beside him, nudging your shoulders against his arm. The shoulder nudge thing was a thing you did often on him. It usually meant that you were ready to talk things out without being a brat about it.

Your height barely reached his shoulders. He allowed himself to steal a quick glance at you. You’re Asgardian, it is your birthright - at least from your mother’s side. Even more beautiful in person compared to the pictures Sam had of you in his files - Bucky and Wanda threatened to retire if Sam didn't destroy those permanently from the archives.

“No need. Go get ready for bed, I’ll finish things up here.” His expression -unreadable. Lips pressed firmly together and his focus was on the dishes, wiping them dry with a towel before sliding them on the overhead rack above the sink.

“But I want to-” You started meekly, your hand reaching out for the plate, freezing mid-way when he yelled out his next words to you.

“Honey, just this once, can you please just do as you’re told?!”

“I just wanted to help.” You retorted weakly.

“Didn't work out so well the last time did it?” He snaps back.

You blinked, hurt settling in your features. Of the bitingly cold tone that he rarely ever used on others. But he used it on you.

You felt an odd sense of coldness creeping into your bones - one that rendered you feeling numb. After brushing your teeth thoroughly. You had splashed some cold water on your face in an attempt to keep the hot tears in your eyes at bay.

You plucked the spectacles off from his face.

“Is this the new stealth commlink? Maybe I need to start wearing one, so I won't stand out as much.” You fitted it over your nose bridge and ears.

Cute. Real cute.

“Really? You need glasses? Like suddenly you’re not the most beautiful woman anyone has ever seen.” He quirks a brow, sarcasm etched in his tone. Your braids coming loose around your face, full pink lips just begging to be kissed and claimed.

“Like Superman right? You Midgardians are so weird .” You burst out laughing into his shoulders. He returned the gesture with an affectionate kiss into your hair.

You gave a last lingering look over to his side of the bed - currently empty. A long sigh escapes you. Pushing your face closer to the covers not feeling like talking to him. He was already plenty angry with you - you dare not covet more.

“Honey?” Bucky settles on his side of the bed, peeling the covers away from you. Named after the sweetness that never rots. You really were fond of the endearment he calls you. Sweet as honey. Until today - when you know just how sharp and stern his tone and character could be.

Bucky paws on the blankets, searching for a break in the folds of the sheets. He finally managed to find an opening, peeling the fabric away - revealing your face to the world.

"There's my beautiful dame." He pinched your cheek playfully.

You feel the mattress dip as he settles his hands on either side of your head and leans close, settling himself between your thighs.

Bucky kept you distracted from remembering to sulk, his mouth against the sides of your mouth, your nose, your cheeks, the frame of your jawline, slow, like he’s savoring every moment, your hands under his shirt, appreciating the firm muscles under your touch.

His fingers bunches in your hair with a gentleness that startled you, tilting your head back while exposing the column of your throat. His mouth brushed along the sensitive skin of your neck, hot breaths against your warm body.

When he pulls away, he gives a boyish grin at you - rendering you weak, everywhere. Leaning forward to place a loud kiss on your forehead. You knew that look, swallowing convulsively, like a rabbit caught in a wolf’s trap.

Grabbing the fabric from behind his neck over his head tossing it carelessly across the room.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” The direct honesty of your question takes him aback, as does the innocence with which you ask it. Bucky takes a deep breath. Even though he still looks as though he’d like to rip someone’s head off - his movements are controlled.

"Hmm."

He lifted the hem of your top, lips found their intended place on your stomach, pressing hot kisses and the occasional nibble on your flesh. You let your hands travel up to Bucky’s neck and into his hair, tenderly drawing your fingers along his scalp as he groans.

“Do you think you deserve it?” He pushed a warning growl, his vibranium alloy hand easily wrapping over both your wrists, pinning them over your head. Another hand wraps around the back of your head, with a low moan, you parted your lips obediently to let him in. He drops his own lips towards yours - barely touching - breaths mingling.

The grip he had on your wrists took a lot of control on his part. To alternate between being gentle or firm has always been his personal struggle - hold too hard and he might snap your bone in three places. Too gentle and you’ll never learn from your mistakes. Your body is already so pliant, soft, undulating with need for his touch.

“Fucking reckless, self-destructive, blatant disregard for personal safety.” His stern, chastising tone had you whimpering beneath him.

You gasped as he pushed your pajama shorts down your waist and over your hips, pooling somewhere on the bedroom floor. Your panties went next , pulling it down your thighs so slowly that it had your whole body buzzing in anticipation.

Looking down between your bodies and Bucky’s erection was straining even more against his sweatpants. You’d take whatever you could at this point, grinding your wet sopping pussy against the bulge on his gray sweatpants.

Letting out a moan from the sudden delicious friction you’ve been needing, you let out another strangled sound when his vibranium hand held your hips in a bruising grip.

"Do that again and I’ll fuck your mouth instead of your soaking wet pussy.” His rough voice caused you to involuntary shiver. You clamped your thighs tighter together, but that only made the rising emptiness worse.

“Keep those legs spread open, beautiful.” His blood is already starting to pound. You spread apart before him, still half clothed waist up, it was unadulterated decadence.

“Now, beg me.” His voice demanded every will and fiber of your being to succumb.

“Please…” It was all you could do to suppress a reflexive whine.

“You can do better than that. Remember what I taught you to say?” He pulled a silk tie he kept in the nightstand drawers, binding your wrists tightly above your head with it.

Midgardians have a filthy way of saying things that sparked your basest carnal desires too. You wanted him so badly - so desperately that the thought of him dominating over every inch of you until you cant walk convinced you enough to give up the last shred of dignity and pride as a dignified Asgardian.

“Please Bucky, I want you to fuck me.”

The low growl of interest escapes him. “Hm… let’s try that again?” His warm hand brushes the smooth expanse of your thighs.

“Please - I want you to fuck my pussy.” You sounded so grumpy, so hungry. A short, sharp laughter escapes him.

“On your knees. Bend over.” He all but yanks you roughly by your ankles, turning you around so that the side of your face was pressed on the mattress.

“I should just leave you like this. Maybe you’ll learn your lesson. Hm?” A slap to one butt cheek elicited a silent cry from you, exhaling in short gasps.

“No - !” You muffled voice straining, begging for some relief between the apex of your thighs.

“So beg me properly this time.” The husky primal hunger tone to his voice so close to your ears made you strain against your binds.

“Please - I’ll be a good girl- so fuck me please-“ You could barely finish begging before he plunges two long, thick fingers into your dripping pussy. Your keening noises bouncing off the walls, your fist clenching against the silk binds on your wrist.

Pushing your body back closer to his fingers for desperate release, he quickened the pace of his fingers, stroking the opening of your wet slick, your hips bucking wildly as you moaned with no inhibition holding you back.

All you needed was a little more to set you off, the sweet coiling of release beckoning you - tightening low in your abdomen, throbbing with need. His fingers reaching deep enough, the pressure driving you near crazy, your walls clenching on his fingers shamelessly. But instead of ending your agony, Bucky released a low tsk, pulling out his fingers, leaving you empty and unsatisfied.

"Wha - ? No, please... Bucky." Your needy mewl nearly crumbles his resolve. Nearly.

“You’ll cum when I tell you to, honey.” He pushes one hand firmly on your back to stop you from moving, the soft choking near dry-sobbing sounds deliciously sweet to his ears.

Sweet as you - he'd eat you up all day.

He palmed his erection, lowering the waistband of his sweatpants as he pulled your perky butt towards him. Your back arching off the bed, as he sinks his firm, warm thick cock to the hilt, completely filling you.

A high pitched whine escapes your lungs - your heavy pants muffled into the sheets, the wet patch under your mouth from the drool dripping onto your chin from the incessant moans and lewd noises you were making. Your bound wrist made it difficult for you to properly seek purchase for your fingers to dig into the dark fitted sheets. He roughly pushes the hem of your shirt up.

Bucky trails his mouth along your spine, kissing, breathing hotly against your skin, his thick gravelly voice whispering on how good you were taking him all in. His body covers yours, as his teeth tugs on the cartilage of your ear, tickling your skin.

“Ah, fuck, that’s it… take all of it-”

He sets a pace and starts pounding into you like a man possessed, hands grabbing your hips fiercely as he grunts with each thrust into you. The feral noises he was making when the walls of your tight cunt gripped him like a vice.

His breath was hot against your back, growling incoherent words that your pleasure-hazed brain couldn’t decipher.

“I’m not going to stop until you scream my name.”

His hip slams roughly against your bare ass. The bindings chafing against your wrist, the friction gave you a painful blur - the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed throughout the bedroom, the bed creaking under the weight of this carnal tryst.

Bucky tangles his hand into your hair, pulling your head back, your hands and body no longer resting against the mattress but your back arched into his chest.

Another hand wraps around your throat and squeezes, your eyes rolled back from the white–blinding pleasure that invaded your already lust filled brain, breeching on blank. He continues his relentless pace, mercilessly rails into you, panting into your shoulder - littering your skin with bites and bruises all over.

He starts pumping harder, deeper into your abused and dripping cunt - movements becoming erratic as he draws closer to his finish. You would moan at the brutal pace he sets - but you could only cough from the pressure of his hands still wrapped around your throat.

Your hair getting tugged by the scalp had you clamping on his member hard as he continued his onslaught of wrecking your pussy - his pussy - that’ll he’s gonna pump full of his cum soon.

“Cum. Cum all over my cock like the needy slut you are.”

True to his vow, your hands clenching tight against the bindings - you screamed his name. You shake and quiver as he allows your release to overtake your senses, you succumbed to the tight burning tension uncoiling - riding out your high as you creamed all over his cock.

You could only afford a weak gasp, begging from your whines and mewls - for something - for mercy perhaps. He moves his hand upward to tuck underneath your chin, holding your small jawline, crashing his mouth on yours to wrap his tongue around yours.

His cock twitched and with a deep groan, resting his forehead against the back of your shoulder, with a final thrust he finishes off inside your still quivering cunt. You feel him spurting deep inside of you as he clenches your body tight to his.

Bucky gently lays you back on the bed, your back flushed against his chest. You lay there for a moment, feeling him wrapping a strong arm around your waist as you curled your back into his chest.

As he undoes the binds around your wrist, your breathing returns to normal. You turned around to look at him. A completely satisfied tender smile gracing his features. He leaned in, pressing a deep long kiss into your wrist while massaging the indented skin around the area.

“Does it hurt badly baby?” He says softly, the quiet voice he held reverberating through his chest.

You shook your head, the light catching the redness blooming on the skin of your throat, bites and bruises covering your body against your unblemished skin. The mix of your arousal and his cum dripping down your thigh.

Bucky lets you straddle him, your knees on either side of him, he keeps you steady with an arm on your waist, another across the back of his head, propping him up somewhat.

“You realize, we are now even for everything I’ve ever pulled, alright?” You boldly announced with a smirk that had set his blood boiling again. Bucky’s look only intensifies, eyeing you skeptically.

“Oh, you’re adorable.” Bucky’s deep baritone voice purred into your ear.

His disheveled black hair, chiseled and sculpted body right beneath you, your fingers seeking purchase on his strong shoulders to steady yourself. Not that you needed to, his single hand on your waist was enough actually. But he knew you’d take any excuse to touch him.

Not that he minds it at all - judging by the shit eating grin, feral whites of his teeth bared at you. Bright blue eyes looking at you expectantly - the sole focus of his attention.

“Like ever.” You grinned as you pulled the pillow from behind him and hit his face with it. His laughter was warmer than a fireplace in December - your comfort, safety, shelter, home.

His hand brushing away the stray hairs that stuck to your sweaty forehead.

“No, it doesn't, not by a long shot.” Bucky growled softly, annoyance rumbling as he rubs small circles on your back slowly, brushing away the stray hairs that stuck to your sweaty forehead at the same moment.

“Yes it does - absolutely. One hundred percent.” You insisted, his hand reached out to the back of your neck, pulling you down so he could kiss that stubborn mouth of yours senseless.

“I’ll think about it.” He conceded, taking your lower lip between his teeth.

If you take on his last name - and fully retire - then he would call it even. He wouldn't mind a life like Clint Barton's.

In fact he'd welcome it gladly if he was being fully honest with himself.

So, until he could get down on one knee in front of you this Christmas, the Tiffany box will have to remain hidden from you, nestled inside the drawer between his folded sweaters and cardigans.

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter solder x you #bucky barnes x reader #mcu smut #winter soldier smut #bucky barnes smut #mcu imagines #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x reader

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