#i hate losing my rhythm alas so i think i need to just push through

[astronicht]

i would desperately like to post the first chapter of the 15k of motogp Roman AU: Extended Edition, which has been ready to go for ages, but my track record with finishing multichapter fic that are even a LITTLE tiny bit incomplete -- like this one is fully written, but I could see a coda popping up in a final edit -- is currently sitting at ummm 0 for 4. or more. So I'm afraid.

[ramsayboltonsmuse]

Imagine Ramsay Bolton and The Joker (Heath Ledger) fighting over you....Part 1

Summary: I’m bringing Ledger!Joker to Westeros! My two favorite villains in a smutty little two part imagine that ends in them fighting over The Reader.

You are Cersei Lannister’s oldest daughter and have been betrothed to Ramsay Bolton, a match devised by your grandfather Tywin Lannister to secure the alliance between The Boltons (who are now The Wardens of the North) and the Capital.

What happens when you throw in a chance encounter with J in the woods? Lots of violence, angst, fluff and smut that’s what!

Links to other parts: Part 2, Part 3

Ao3 link

“Kneel.” Ramsay’s voice sliced through the still air.

The Dreadfort’s great hall was empty except for you and him, the handmaiden who had been ordered to fetch you having intelligently bolted out of the room the second she deposited you. 

Ramsay was seated behind the great table, shirtless, his toned and muscled build glinting in the moonlight spilling in from the large windows. You could see some blood spatter speckling across his chest. It wasn’t his blood. 

As much as you truly hated Ramsay for all the vile things you’d watched him do, you couldn’t deny the fact that some part of you found him downright handsome.

He was nonchalantly turning one of his many knives over and over in his hand. He shot a glance at you and stood up when you didn’t move right away. You flinched as his chair made a scraping noise against the floor as he pushed it away. 

Ramsay strode up to you so that you were only inches apart. “[Y/N], I told you to kneel. Now, get on your knees.” His eyes were a dangerous ice blue, daring you to disobey. 

You squared your shoulders defiantly. “You sent a handmaid to drag me out of bed after midnight and now you’re ordering me to kneel for some offense I don’t even know I’ve committed. I’m the King’s sister, Twin Lannister’s granddaughter, not to mention your betrothed. You can’t treat me like one of your whores.”

The slap across your face shocked you, but you had no time to recover as his hand shot out to grip your neck, squeezing.

“You’re really beginning to test my patience.” Ramsay growled. “I don’t care who you used to belong to, princess. You’re mine now.” His stare bore into you. “And after the wedding, you can be sure I’ll mark you so you don’t forget.” The corners of his mouth turned up into a slight smile at that last remark. 

You knew he was right. It didn’t matter who you were, not here, not in The North. Your infamous father, Robert Baratheon, was dead, and everyone with any sense knew that Tywin Lannister was running the kingdom while your fool of an older brother Joffrey was playing at being King. 

But Tywin was no fool. He likely knew what Ramsay Bolton was, but he arranged this dreadful marriage anyway, his only concern formally solidifying the bond between the capital and The North, the largest kingdom. With Roose Bolton named Warden of the North, and Ramsay his successor, it was the strategic choice.

Your mother had nearly killed your grandfather when she heard of his plans to marry her oldest daughter off to The Boltons. But alas, Tywin was the real source of power, and none of them had any choice. 

Ramsay squeezed your neck tighter and you began gasping for air, your hands reaching up to wrap around his forearm, trying to pull him off of you. 

“You think you’re a golden haired darling little thing don’t you.” Ramsay snickered. “Let me tell you a secret sweetling.” You began clawing at his arm, desperate for air. “Once we’re married, I won’t have to worry about keeping you untarnished for the wedding.” 

You started to turn pale, the color draining out of your face. “So when you misbehave, I won’t think twice. I’ll drag you into the dungeons and fasten your wrists and ankles to the cross. I’ll strip you naked and cut and flay you any way I like. I’ll fuck you until you bleed and keep you chained up for days without food or water if I want to because you’ll be my property. So you had better adjust your attitude.”

Ramsay released your neck only to grab your chin hard enough to leave a bruise, jerking your face up to his while your starved lungs desperately refilled themselves with air. 

“Now kneel. I hate asking a second time.” Ramsay’s voice was laden with venom and your eyes grew wide, unable to move from the shock of what just happened. 

Ramsay had certainly toyed with you in the last month since you arrived at The Dreadfort, and you had seen his handiwork on the many flayed bodies decorating the outer walls, but he had not touched you until now. Your own naivete had led you to believe he would keep his sadistic predilections to pretty young whores and unfortunate serving girls. Evidently, you were wrong.

Ramsay sighed, clearly annoyed at your inability to immediately comply with his demand. You started to panic as he walked around behind you only to roughly push you to your knees, your bare legs underneath your barely-opaque white nightgown hitting the floor hard.

“That’s better.” Ramsay circled back around to your front and crouched down in front of you. He reached out to almost tenderly caress your cheek, causing you to flinch and him to smile at your reaction. “Do you know why you’re being punished little rabbit?” You shook your head, your big green eyes staring up fearfully at him. 

“No? Well.” He drew his hand away from you, a malicious smirk spreading slowly across his face. You knew if he was excited about something, it couldn’t possibly spell anything good for you.“You haven’t been the most doting bride to be darling, now have you.” 

His face twisted into a mock frown. “You haven’t once come to see me in my bedchambers. It’s made me concerned for the future of our marriage.” His eyes were laughing at you, enjoying this little game of torment, knowing full well you weren’t supposed to have any intimate relations with him until after the wedding.

Your words came out in a quick rush, desperate to explain yourself lest he decide to hurt you. “I’m supposed to stay a virgin until the bedding ceremony!” Your voice came out sounding so much smaller than before. Ramsay heard it too, and smiled.

“There there [Y/N].” He mused, giving your head a pat and causing you to flinch at his touch. “It’s not your fault that the ladies of King’s Landing didn’t properly train you on your responsibilities.” 

He grabbed your chin roughly, running his thumb over your bottom lip before popping it into your mouth. He tasted like the forest and something, almost metallic. “There are many things that good girls should do before the bedding ceremony. You don’t need to worry though. I’ll teach you.”

Ramsay stood up then, your gaze following him upward to where he towered above you, a sizable bulge noticeable through his pants. He began unfastening his belt and loosening his pants to reveal, well, you had never seen one before, but you could only imagine it was…

“Never seen one before sweetling? That’s rather adorable, even for you.” Ramsay grabbed one of your delicate hands and moved it toward his cock. You knew you had nothing to compare this to, but you had to admit that it looked giant. You had no idea how that was expected to fit inside you. You trembled at the thought.

Ramsay guided your hand to start stroking up and down his length. He watched your wide eyed expression greedily as you began to get the rhythm. Ramsay released your hand only to grab a bundle of your hair and pull it harshly, forcing you to look up at him. 

“You can do better than that pet. Open up.” Intuitively, you knew what was expected of you, Ramsay’s stare telling you everything you needed to know. You parted your lips and began tenderly licking the tip of his cock, then flattening your tongue and drawing it from tip to base. You heard Ramsay’s breathing hitch and looked up at him, towering above you like a dark god.

“Like that Ramsay?” You asked almost shyly, blushing. 

Ramsay responded by pulling your hair again, eliciting a small yelp from you.

“‘Like that Sir’. Mind your manners pet. And you’ll have to try a lot harder than that to impress me.” With that, Ramsay grabbed the back of your head and shoved it down the entirety of his length, causing you to gag and lose your breath completely. Your hands grabbed onto his legs to steady yourself as he held you in place, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

He released your head and pulled out, only to slam back into you again, tears starting to prick in the corners of your eyes. All this time and you hadn’t once thought about the chance that someone might walk in on this scene in the middle of the great hall. Then again, it was the middle of the night and you had a suspicion that Ramsay wouldn’t care if someone did. The low growl of his voice took you out of your thoughts.

“Good girl.” He praised you, and you felt an unexpected little ball of warmth inside you, causing you to shift slightly on your knees. You started bobbing your head and stroking his length in time, eager for more praise. 

Ramsay didn’t let you keep control though. He thrust his hips forward, pushing himself down your throat with a tight grip on your head, securely keeping you in place. You heard his breathing hitch again as his fingers dug into your skull, your own breath taken away by the sheer size of him. With a final push, he let out a low growl and came down your throat, holding you in place until the last of the come had drained out of him. You could feel it dripping down the back of your throat as he pulled out of your mouth.

“Very good girl.” Your doe eyes smiled up at him. You couldn’t understand why, but the feeling of him violating you in this way was so arousing. Perhaps all your embroidery and dancing lessons hadn’t been enough for you in the Capital. Perhaps you had grown bored over the years, but ignored it. This though, Ramsay and his complete control over you, was new. And you wanted more of it.

Ramsay pulled you up to your feet roughly. “You look quite pretty with my cock in your mouth pet.” A small smile spread across your features. You really were a beauty, and Ramsay knew it. 

He would never say it to you, but he never imagined he would marry such highborn royalty, not to mention one of the most beautiful royals in Westeros. Many lords had been vying for you, but The Boltons had ensured they won the bid. There were so many things he was going to do to you. 

“I expect to see you in my chambers tomorrow evening darling. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

Ramsay’s cock twitched at that, your voice intoxicating to him. He grabbed a bundle of your hair and pulled you into him, his lips inches from yours.

“That’s my good little girl. You’re mine now [Y/N]. Only mine.” 

****

You had decided to go for a ride. It was an absolutely beautiful Summer day, and a particularly warm one, especially for The North. You felt no need to bring a guard with you as every person in this part of the country knew who you were and knew who you were betrothed to. No one would dare so much as look at you for fear of what Ramsay Bolton would do.

You were riding through the familiar forests surrounding The Dreadfort, smiling at the sounds of the birds in the trees and the shady brooks babbling away. It was hard to remember that Ramsay used these same woods to hunt women. 

You had ridden for maybe an hour when you decided it would be a good time to stop and eat the small lunch you had brought with you. You dismounted Blanche, a stunningly beautiful white mare that Ramsay had given you as an engagement gift, and tied her up. You patted her neck and she whinnied sweetly at you, making you smile. It really was a lovely --

A strange noise drew your attention to a grove of trees not far off. Grabbing your knife, another, less public, gift from Ramsay, you silently approached the clearing. 

It sounded like someone was dragging something heavy. As you got closer, you found a large enough tree to conceal you and peaked out from behind it to get a look at where the noise was coming from.

A tall man, very muscular with tanned skin was dragging what looked like several dead bodies into a large pile in the clearing. You took a gamble, and darted from your tree to one even closer to see better. 

They were definitely dead bodies, all men, and all with various torturous wounds ranging from mutilations to stabbings to what looked like skin peeled off with a potato peeler. You had seen plenty of flayed humans thanks to Ramsay, but this wasn’t his handiwork, this was a different signature.

As the man deposited the last body on the pile, he ran his hand through his hair and turned to rummage through his things, producing a flask and taking large swigs of water. He then poured some straight over his hair and shook his head vigorously, the water droplets flying everywhere and his voice letting out an almost maniac scream that made you jump.

He was quite handsome. You watched as he pulled his light leather armor off to reveal his shirtless chest. His clothes were finely made, but in the most bizarre purple and green colors. You had never seen anyone dressed like that before.

And he had beautiful tousled blonde hair, a rarity in The North, and a tall powerful build, his clearly defined muscles visibly bulging as he ran his hand through his hair again. But what was interesting, what you couldn’t stop staring at, were the scars on his face.

You’d seen many scars since you’d come to The Dreadfort, but you had never seen any like this. The strange scars ran like an upturned smile from both corners of his mouth to his structured cheekbones.  You wondered what could have done something like that.

You froze as his voice, a somehow simultaneously frightening and soothing sound, rang out.

“Say, uh, sweetheart. Why don’t you come out into the light.” Swallowing hard as adrenaline shot through you, you stepped from behind the tree and into the grove.

The man leaned back against a tree, taking in the sight of you with his dark eyes. You were wearing a simple light blue dress with a questionably low neckline, revealing your pretty young body delightfully. Your long golden hair was cascading in curls down your back and your green eyes were shyly darting away from his stare.

“Mmm. Lovely.” The man hummed, looking at you. “And why is it that such a, uh, innocent young thing is out all alone in the woods?” 

You looked at the ground as you answered, not sure why he was making you so nervous. Maybe it was from fear that Ramsay would punish you later for speaking to another man, maybe for fear of the man himself. You weren’t sure.

“It’s just a nice day, I thought I’d go riding. Anyway, I’m not innocent, and it’s perfectly safe for me to go out alone. I’m Robert Baratheon’s daughter, and promised to Ramsay Bolton. No one would dare touch me. Who are you?”

The man laughed then, an almost maniac laugh as he stood, and sauntered over to you. “You’re a, uh, p-r-in-c-ess then? Is that right sweetheart?” He closed in, circling around you. For some reason you found yourself frozen in place. 

Suddenly he was behind you, placing his large hands over your exposed collar bone and drumming his fingers against you. He leaned into your ear, his lips nearly brushing your exposed neck.

“My name is The Joker, but you can call me J sweetheart.” He licked his lips. “And why is a princess afraid of someone like me, hmm?” He stepped back and walked around to face you again, his forehead wrinkling in a feigned pout. 

You straightened up. “I’m not afraid of you.” You hoped your voice was coming out more sure than you felt. “Anyway I don’t even know who you are. I don’t think you’re from here, and I wouldn’t have any problem demanding someone from the Bolton guard take your head.” You stood taller, feeling the confidence build. “In fact, I’d take your head myself.”

J chuckled and his eyes gleamed. “You have a little fight in you, I like that.” He leaned into you. “I’m not sure if all the, uh, princesses in Westeros are as dumb as you bunny, but having a famous name is exactly the reason NOT to go out riding alone in the big bad woods.” He drawled out the last three words in a much deeper voice, sending shivers down your spine.

“What did these men do?” You tried desperately to get control back of this conversation, but something about his way of speaking made logical thoughts difficult. 

J’s eyes widened. “Do? Do?!” He laughed suddenly loudly and maniacally, his black eyes filling with some combination of mirth and insanity. “Oh bunny, they didn’t do anything. I, uh,” J leaned closer to you, as if telling you a secret. “I killed them for f-u-n- ah.”

“You’re just like Ramsay.” You blurt out. 

“Ramsay?” J stepped back, turning on his heel and walking away from you over to the pile of bodies. He threw up his hands and shouted. “Ramsay, Ramsay, Ramsay, Ramsay, Ramsay-ah. You can’t walk one mile, one fucking mile in this place without hearing that name.” You watched as he lit the bodies on fire, your breath speeding up a little.

He turned back to you, closing the distance in large strides. 

“I’ve been thinking, with all this talk about Ramsay Bolton, that I oughta meet the guy. See if he lives up to his, uh, reputation. Whatdya say sweetheart? Wanna be my bate? Good.” He said without skipping a beat. “I thought you might.”

“He’s going to kill you. He’ll flay you living if you even lay a hand --” J cut you off by roughly grabbing your arms and backing you into the tree behind you.

“Bunny, bunny, bunny. You really wanna play those games?” He grabbed your wrists with one hand, twisting them painfully and raising them above your head. “Look at you.” He growled. “You’re even lying to yourself. You’re not even trying to fight me.”

Shocked at this self discovery, you noted that he was right. You hadn’t even struggled against him.

“I don’t think your Lord Flay knows what he has. And if he does, he’s not using ittt. I knew from the second I saw you sweetheart that you’re an agent of chaos too. Like me.” J ever so gently nipped your ear. “You’re just, how should I put this, untapped. I can always tell the squealers from the killers, and you doll, you have a little darkness in you. Don’t let it, uh, go to waste.”

You didn’t know what to say, staring open-mouthed at this strange man who somehow had read you completely in the span of one conversation, better than you read yourself. Subconsciously, you had a feeling that Ramsay knew this about you too. But why he had let it sit dormant instead of bringing you into his dark world, you didn’t know.

“Speechless? I’m flattered.” J spun you around and yanked your arms behind your back, securely fastening them with a tight rope. 

He spun you back to face him and flashed a smile at you. It was a different kind of smile than Ramsay’s, but laden with just as much danger. “It’s for show doll, don’t get too, uh, worked up.” His eyes flicked from your eyes to your body and he licked his lips, running a hand through his blonde lochs again before grabbing your waist and throwing you over his shoulder.

As he carried you into the woods, his voice came out menacingly dark.

“Time for The Joker and Ramsay Bolton to play.” 

NEXT PART: Part 2

[captnbarnesrogers]

Romeo Save Me (Prince!Bucky AU)

Pairing/Characters: Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader Warnings: mostly fluff, cheating (maybe), SMUT Summary: When your father makes a trade with the King of Latervia, your forced into marriage in return of their resources. Little does he know, you’re in love with the Prince of Sokovia. Word Count: 2.1k+ A/N: This is an AU and I loved writing it! Thank you for the request!

You stared out the window of the castle, sighing heavily as the date of today kept racing past in your head. November 30th. You dreaded the day.

Your engagement party was less than five hours away and you refused to go. You didn’t want to leave your chambers and you didn’t want to get married to the Prince of Latervia. You wanted to live your life as freely as you could and be married for love, not for trade. Your father had made an agreement with the King of Latervia, King Vladmir, that if his son, Dimitri could marry you, his kingdom would be in debt for life, meaning your father would be co-ruling another kingdom but most of the power was in his hands. When you had found out about his trade, you were shocked. Not only because of his decision on behalf of you but also because you had planned to tell him you were in love with another Prince.

A knock on your chamber door was heard. You turned around and saw your Handmaiden enter your room with her head hung low.

“Your Highness, I’ve come to turn down your bed.” You nodded, and she continued to her job. Suddenly, your mother came bursting through the doors,

“Mother.” You greeted,

“My sweet child, I have picked out your dress for the party tonight.”

“I don’t really care for such things right now, mother.” She made a saddened face, mockingly and hung the dress against your body,

“Well, you’re getting married for the sake and well-being of the kingdom.”

“That’s just it, mother, I’m getting married for the sake of the kingdom, for the kingdom, but not for me.” You pushed the dress away and looked at her with pleading eyes. Your mother, who believed a good wife will always stand behind her husband, looked at you with her eyes full of regret and sighed, setting the dress down on the freshly turned bed,

“You’ll learn to love him, my child, just as I with your father.” She put her hand against your cheek and you rested your head in her hand,

“I’m not you, Mother, I will never learn to love him because I love somebody else.”

“I want that dress on by seven o’clock, you hear me, Y/N?” She takes her hand away and says sternly,

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Your Handmaiden, Brooke, tapped your nose with a tissue, finishing off your neatened face as seven struck on the clock. She gave you a smile and backed away to reveal your reflection in the mirror.

“Thank you, Brooke, you always know how to work these things.” You laughed, standing up and giving her a hug,

“You look eye catching, Your Highness.” Once again, your mother had entered the room, uninvited,

“Your guests have begun to arrive.” You roll your eyes and scoff,

“They’re your guests, Mother, not mine, I don’t want this.”

“Now, now, Y/N, you will go out there and you’ll smile and be polite and kiss your fiancé.” She twirls the ends of your hair in her fingers to tighten the curls and your eyes widen,

“I am not kissing that man!”

“You will do as we say! Not another word about it!” As your mother exited the room, you fell back onto your bed, clutching your stomach. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want to get married to the strange man. You refused to love this man, you had a prince. Your breaths began to shorten, your chest tightened, and shortly after, tears began to fall freely from your eyes. Brooke kneeled beside you and rubbed your back,

“I can’t do this, Brooke, I love someone else.” You sobbed, dabbing the tissue against your eyes,

“Is your love coming tonight, Your Highness?”

“Yes, and I would hate him to see all of this, I love him and only him.”

“Well, I’m sure he understands why you must do this.” She looks at you with pity in her eyes, making you look away, “You must touch up your make up, Your Highness.” You looked up at her and shook your head, running out of your bedroom.

As night fell, the music in the palace began to get louder and the people went from five to one thousand. Up the palace walls, you stuck your head out of the window of the tallest part of the castle, your hair flowing freely as the breeze made its way in between your hair strands. This area of the castle was abandoned, only being entered when it needed cleaning. You thanked the God’s above you parents didn’t know your little hiding spot. You watched the little people below you, entering and exiting the castle as the bright lights faded half way down the catwalk. There was a moment of silence in the room, just you and the mice running through the floor. You sighed and shortly after, heard the door creek, implying an entrance in the room.

“Nobody’s allowed in this part of the castle.” You stated firmly, turned your head to the side to quickly glance at the shadow,

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” You almost instantly recognised the voice, “I thought I’d see my Princess before she became a Queen.” You turned to the person at the door and run to him,

“James.” You embraced him tightly and pulled away to capture his lips to yours.

James Buchanan Barnes was the Prince of Sokovia. You’d met four summers ago, during your little sister’s sixteenth birthday celebration. His father was sick and so, he came as Sokovia’s representative. Masks played a part in your meeting. Intrigued by the mystery but flirtatious nature of the man, you asked Brooke to give him a note asking to me you on the second-floor balcony. As asked, he followed you into the starry night. You spent all night talking and ask the clock struck twelve, he’d caressed your cheek and pulled you in for a deep kiss. One hundred and fifty-six letters, one letter every week for three years, and four secret meetings half way from Asgard and him, half way from Sokovia, here you were roughly kissing and desperately gripping each other in the dark with the only light coming from the stars and the moon, through the window.

You didn’t want to pull away, you wanted to kiss him and never have to face the reality, but alas he pries your body away from his and rests his forehead on yours, “Did you get my letters?” You panted,

“No, I heard your mother took all of them.”

“I had hoped one would slipped out of her finger tips.” You connected your lips again, wanting to feel the warmth of them, “I don’t want this, James, I want you, I want to be yours.”

“You are mine, my Princess.” He pushes you against the wall and begins to kiss down your neck, “You will always be mine.” You gripped his blue suit tightly and moaned as his hand makes its way up the skirt of the gown, “Tell me, Princess.”

“I love you, I want you, please, Bucky.” He takes your thighs from under your dress and carries you to the floor, the light of the moon hitting your face perfectly. You feel his soft hands against your skin as his kisses your neck, this corset of your dress not letting him explore your chest. You moan when his hand finds its way into your underwear, his fingers using your wetness to rub his fingers against your clit making your back arch from the contact. You suddenly feel the heat of his lips go from you neck down to your thighs, completely unaware of his movement. His lips leave a wet trail on each thigh and when your thighs clenched close, he pried them away from each other. You feel the cold air hit your throbbing clit as he pulls your panties away from the lower half of your body and finally, you feel the heat of his breath on your naked cunt. He licks a stripe from your wet entrance to your pulsating clit, your hands intertwined with his as he ate your pussy, “Oh sweet fuck!” He laughs at your reaction, that’s not something a Princess would usually say, he thinks. His mouth continues its assault but as you get closer to the edge, his fingers now inside your wet heat and your hand pulling at his now ruined hair, you begin moaning louder, “I’m so close, Bucky.”

“I can feel you, Printsessa.” His mouth stops, and his fingers pull out of your body making you whine for more, “But, I want to be inside you if that’s okay?”

“If you don’t fuck me, I think I’m going to die, James Buchanan Barnes.” He laughs at your desperation and places a soft kiss on your lips, “Please, moy Prints.” His eyes widen, and he stops fondling with his belt,

“You’ve been practising?”

“For when I become your Queen, of course.”

“You already are.” He whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Finally, he had gotten his belt off and his pants following straight after,

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, yes, please, just- Please, Bucky.” He gives his hard cock a quick stroke before entering your slick pussy, “Fuck!” He begins to thrust into you, profanities spewing out of his mouth. You push off his blue jacket and rip his white shirt, buttons flying from where they were previously stitched. He stops his movement for a second to fling his now broken shirt across the dark empty room. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on your forehead against the moon. His hands travelled all over your body, treating you like a delicate piece of irreplaceable art; his lips trailing kisses on your shoulder. Your nails dig into his back and your eyes roll back as his thrusts begin to deepen into you,

“You’re so tight, oh fuck!”

“James, James, James!” You chanted loudly. You were sure, if it were possible, your voice alone could shake the entire castle, and everyone would know what the both of you were up to. Bucky growls in your ear, his hand gripping your hips under your dress tightly. You hear the shudder in his breath, something you’ve learned was a sign of the nearing of his bliss. You feel yourself clenching, making Bucky, moan loudly,

“Oh fuck, Jesus Christ, Y/N, I’m gonna cum!”

“I-I’m- Bucky, I’m cumming!” You mewled, your hands scratching down his back as his hips began to lose rhythm and the both of you dissolve into the pleasure of your orgasms. Your hands try to find something to grab, the marks on his back evident of the need,

“Y/N! Fuck!” His hips jerk into you as your pleasure comes to an end. Pants filled the room as silence took over the moans from moments before. He rolls beside you and pulls you close to him, placing a kiss on your shoulder, “Now, what am I supposed to do without a shirt?”

“It wasn’t my fault you decided not to take it off before.” You laughed, turning to face him and planting a kiss on his lips. Your smile faded as the silence brought you back to reality, “Is this the last time we’ll be together?”

“I’m not too sure, that’s your choice.”

“I don’t want to marry Dimitri, I want to marry you.” He cups your cheeks and pulls you in for a kiss, a tear falling from your eye, “Bucky-”

“Run away with me.”

“What?” You sit up from your position, shocked at his offer,

“Run away with me, Printsessa, we’ll be protected in Sokovia, we will live at a safe house, no one will know of our whereabouts except for my father and my guards and they dare not to betray us.”

“I- Bucky, I don’t want a war between our families.”

“When the time comes, Y/N, I will protect you with my life.” You look down at the cold concrete of the floor, deciding what you wanted, “So, please come with me, I can’t bear to see you with another man.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He asks, excitement clear in his eyes,

“Okay, I’ll come with you, I’ll run away with you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He embraces you tightly and pulls you in for a loving kiss, “I’ll get Brooke to fetch my hood and then we may leave.” He nodded, and you gave him a kiss again as if there were leaving forever, “I love you, moy Prints.”

“And I love you, moy Printsessa.”

MASTERLIST

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @winchester-negan-one-shots @stevette60 @marvelous-fvcks @marvel-fanfiction @potterhead1265 @zoejohnson8 @frickin-bats @iamwarrenspeace @kenmen02 @captianwintersoldier @noelia8villa @bucky-bear-barnes @hollycornish @capsheadquaters @duncedgoofball @abouttimefortea@buchananbarnestrash @minervaem @barnes-heaven @buckyywiththegoodhair @mellifluous-melodramas @heartmade-writingbucky @hellomissmabel @justanotherbuckydevotee @alphaabucky @firebendergirl33 @naenae87 @sunnyfortomorrow @aya-fay @terraling @topthis808@savebxrnes @lediskogirl @mizzzpink @janellexox0 @potterhead1265 @lara-ludbey

SEB STAN/BUCKY TAGLIST: @yana-tardis-drwho @cassandras-musings @charlesgrey1875 @chipilerendi@davros2004 @buckyismyaesthetic @messybl0g​ @17891111​ @buckyappreciationsociety​ @ly–canthrope