#the winter solder fic

[thestarkinternship]

Under the Table

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader: One Shot (Smut)

Summary: During a team meeting, you decide to have a little out of sight fun with Bucky. The kind that leaves both his mind and body the kind of mess that only you can clear up.

Word Count: 1.5k (no mention of Y/N)

Warnings: profanity, dirty thoughts, exhibitionism (other people unaware in the room), handjob (kinda?), mentions of sex and oral (male receiving). 18+, MINORS DNI

-

Bucky tried to focus. Really, he did. But with the feeling of your hand delicately trailing up and down his thigh underneath the table, his attention was starting to slip.

The sensation was so light at first that Bucky had almost dismissed it entirely. A quick glance at your face showed nothing unusual, and so he tried to refocus on the meeting and the details about the upcoming mission. Tony and the others carried on, none the wiser to Bucky’s confusion at the far end of the table.

But then there it was again. Slightly more pressure, and an inch further up his jeans. No, there was definitely something going on. He looked over at you again, tilting his head in curiosity. Studying you for a moment, Bucky couldn’t help but wonder. You were unusually still, your brows knitted together in keen focus. That wasn’t like you at all. Any other time, you’d be tapping a pen, bouncing your knee, drumming your fingertips on the wooden table. The constant need to fidget or shuffle around in your seat – no matter how much he loved you – drove him crazy. So what was going on? He couldn’t quite work it out.

The longer he looked at you, the more Bucky noticed the mischievous gleam in your eyes. It was the kind that you reserved for when you were alone together. But yet here you were, sat next to him in a meeting with some mysterious scheme running through your mind.

And then the next touch came. This time, a gentle squeeze on his crotch that was unmistakeable. That’s when Bucky realised that your hands were hidden, tucked out of sight.

He swallowed nervously. Oh God. It was you.

You noticed the change in his demeanour from confusion to surprise, as a small smirk played on your lips. You were brave, he had to give you that. He had to hold himself back from laughing at the idea of it all. Bucky was in disbelief at the audacity you had, but he was definitely not in a position to stop you. Keeping your eyes on Tony at the front of the room, you let your hand wander his lower body.  

His cheeks warmed as he felt himself begin to react beneath your touch. Cock stiffening more and more, he strained against the tight fabric of his boxers. Bucky squirmed, adjusting himself in his seat. The tiny movement pushed your hand further up, lingering right on his clothed shaft. Even beneath the thick denim of his jeans, the effect you had on him was becoming a growing problem. One that he couldn’t do a damn thing about. The smirk on your face grew, a fact that didn’t go amiss to Bucky. You were enjoying the control that you had in this situation. His jaw clenched tight at the realisation.

Any other time, you’d be underneath him, whining and whimpering whilst he loomed over you. His dog tags would be dangling in front of your face as he took his sweet time. He’d slip them between your lips, forcing you to be quiet as he teased your aching cunt for as long as he could stand before finally ravishing your body in the way that it deserved.

But now, Bucky was powerless. You knew his body like it was your own by now, and you didn’t need to look to know the way his cock would sit in his jeans. It didn’t take you long to find it, and as you did so your touch increased. You cupped your palm, cradling and squeezing as much of him as you possibly could. He sucked in a sharp breath. The chair legs squeaked whilst Bucky’s hips rutted, pushing his cock further  into your touch. You swiped over the spot where you knew his tip would be, and he mentally cursed at the drop of pre-cum that leaked out. The wet bead dampened his boxers as you spread it around with another gentle rub.

It was taking all of his restraint not to visibly react to what was going on. With darkening eyes, Bucky shot you a warning glare. If you carried on like this, he’d have no choice but to drag you out of your seat and bend you over the table so he could fuck you right here in front of everyone for daring to play with him. The image of him pinning your hands behind your back whilst he kept you in place to keep you from protesting flashed through his mind. These dirty thoughts sent Bucky into a hot spiral.

You slid your hand up and down his lap, squeezing in just the right places. His cock throbbed with a life of its own, yearning for more. Fuck. You weren’t even touching him and yet here he was, silently pleading with you to make him come.

Bucky rutted up into your hand, the head of his cock slipping through your grasp as you maintained steady contact. He wanted nothing more than to feel your soft hand wrapped around him, working up and down in careful strokes. To admire the sight of your pretty red lips parting before taking him deep in your throat. He’d hold your hair back, giving your wet tongue uninterrupted access to him in his most vulnerable state.

The current topic of the meeting was long forgotten as his thoughts revolved around you and only you. His heartbeat sped up, and Bucky could hear it ringing in his ears as the blood rushed from his head to his stiff length. He didn’t know it was possible to be this hard. Just from this small amount of teasing, it was nearly shameful how rock solid he was. Thin veins protruded up and down his swollen cock, rubbing against the cotton of his boxers. You were pushing his body to its limits in the best way.

Running your fingers up and down, his come swelled below the bulging tip. Bucky was so close. One more gentle squeeze of your hand was all that it would take to tip him over that edge you had brought him to.

He looked over at you, eyes glazed over, bottom lip trembling. The tension in his jaw eased as you urged him on to the release that he so desperately needed.

Please. Please let me come, doll.

You understood that pleading look in his eye right away. A subtle nod of your head was all the permission that Bucky needed. His teeth dug into his bottom lip to stifle a moan as he let go. You felt his thighs tense under the table. His hand flew to yours, the tight grip preventing you from overstimulating him in the moment. Bucky held your hand there still, and you felt the warmth of his come as it soaked through the layers of his clothing. And there was just so much of it. Streams of hot, sticky fluid coated his throbbing cock as he came down from the intimate high. For a moment, his eyelids fluttered shut as he revelled in the bliss of his emptied balls.

Finally, he released your hand and you pulled away. Whilst his boxers had caught most of the mess, a few stray beads had seeped through the material and onto your thumb. It shone under the harsh lighting, and Bucky’s eyes fell upon it at the same time that yours did. You looked up at him and without missing a beat, brought your thumb to your lips and sucked it off. The gesture happened too quickly for anyone else to notice, but it was all Bucky could focus on. How your cheeks hollowed out as you cleaned off his come. How wet your lips were as you licked over them. He chuckled softly at the whole ordeal. You were amazing.

His flushed cheeks returned to their normal colour as he relaxed. Letting out a slow breath, his shoulders fell back down, and his quick heart rate steadied. Sitting there in the mess you created, he couldn’t wait for to get you out of this room.

Not soon enough for Bucky’s liking, the meeting came to an end. Everyone began to gather up their things and clear out, but Bucky stayed there. Leaning back in his seat, he watched you talk mindlessly to Natasha like you hadn’t just gotten him off under the entire team’s nose. You said goodbye to Natasha as she left the two of you alone.

“So, what are we doing for the rest of today?” You asked casually, absentmindedly getting ready to leave yourself.

After a quiet moment, Bucky stood up. His hands slid over your hips and pulled you back into him. You gasped a little as he spun you around, keeping one arm tight around you. Lifting his other hand, he cupped your cheek, tearing your focus away from your bag on the table. Tension built in the quiet room at the small gesture. A cool metal finger traced over your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Well, you’re coming with me, and you’re going to clean up the mess you made.”

[sarahowritesostucky]

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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[pleasantlycrazyworld]

So I saw that you're writing for Marvel now. I was thinking about jealousy. Specifically Bucky being ✨Jealous✨. Like the reader is just chatting away with someone about this guy she likes (bucky) but she knows he doesnt like her back (he soooo does) and (everyone else can see it too) so he gets hella jealous and finally just snaps. And kisses her like he is gonna die if he doesnt. The kind of kiss that makes you forget everything else in the world kiss.

Anywayyyyyyysssss

LYSM❤️ 

Author note: The "bad guy" of this story is named Luke so I'm sorry if you are Luke or you're friends with a Luke.

Triggers: Nothing? I think it's just fluff, a little of Bucky angst but nothing bad!

Bucky didn't mean to eavesdrop, he swears! All he wanted to do was get more tea!

But....when he heard your voice, your giggle, maybe just maybe he stayed hidden on purpose.

Who is making her giggle so much?? He wondered feeling emotions he hasn't felt in a while. Anger, confusion, insecure.

He overhears a few things that makes his ears ring.

"He's just so sweet you know? Like he is always trying to be there for me and he's so pretty! Like those eyes!" You playfully groan, "He's just perfect." Bucky stops listening after those few sentences passed your lips. Who is she talking about? Who is there for her, I thought I was that person... He goes back to his room with his empty mug and decides to spend the rest of the morning pouting in his room.

Bucky was dreading tonight.

Why the hell did he promise Sam that he would go to this party??? He knew you were going to be there, my god what if that "perfect" guy was going to be there with her? Is he going to have to deal with you be hanging all over this mystery guy? As his mind races with the idea of you being with someone else it begins to wander away with the idea of you. What will you being wearing? Will your hair be down or up? If it's down it usually means you were struggling more today than usual, does that "perfect" guy know that? "fucking doubt it" He grumbles as he walks out the door.

Sam is over this damn attitude Bucky has been giving out today. "What the hell is wrong with you tonight?" Sam asked fed up, "I know this isn't like your thing but you were improving on at least fixing your face when you're in a mood. I think if you glare at that guy anymore he will drop dead, go over and talk to her, get your girl or leave them be and fix your face." All he got in response was an eye roll.

Bucky had enough. Who the hell does this guy think he is! Your attention has been on this 'Luke' guy all night. Bucky hasn't been able to get you alone for at least a conversation for hours now and he was done. Finishing his drink he leaves the table and goes over to you, walking with a purpose. He doesn't notice the way your eyes light up and how a smile graces your face when you see him coming your way but he does notice how you seem to giggle and lean into Luke to whisper something to him and he certainly noticed Luke rubbing your arm before walking away.

"Bucky! I've been wanting to talk to you abo-" You get cut off by his lips pressing against yours with a passion. You gasps slightly, completely caught off guard. Sure people were saying Bucky was into you but you didn't really believe it. The two of you pull away slowly, wanting to stay in your own little world. Bucky smile softly, feeling a sense of relief from feeling you so close to him, but that was quickly overshadowed by a sense of fear washing over him. What if you weren't into him like that? What if he overstepped? What if he just ruined your relationship? What if Luke wanted to kick his ass now?...well I could totally take Luke.

"I-I um I know I didn't, I should've asked before kissing you but you don't understand how awful it has been watching you with that guy..." he trailed off feeling embarrassed by his previous actions. "I think I should probably just get going" he announced before he is stopped by your hands softly gracing his face. When he got the nerve to look back up at you it was his turn to gasp against your lips as you kiss him with a passion.

Who would've thought everyone was right when they said you guys were into each other. Bucky definitely wishes he listened sooner if it meant he got to feel your lips against his.

I hope you loved! I loved writing it! I'm finally getting back into the groove with writing so if you have any request I would love to try and write it for you! I do fluff, I'm trying my hand out in smut and angst too

[kitsune024]

Captain America & Marvel Cinematic Universe Fanfiction

I've Heard That Song Before by Pokimoko

Fanart by kam-jam

In the year since he broke free from HYDRA, Bucky Barnes has been trying to rediscover himself, searching for who he was in the words of history books and within the memories he is slowly recovering. While journeying through Hungary, he meets a mysterious old woman who promises to help him. He accepts, not realising that her idea of helping involves time travel.

He gets sent back to 1944, into the body of his younger self. Bucky, with no clear idea of how to return to the future, tries his best to rediscover the Bucky that Steve, Peggy, and the Howling Commandos know him to be, whilst also having to deal with a mission straight out of his worst nightmares.

Chapters: 10/10

[ownerofpizzadog]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616 Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Clint Barton/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton Additional Tags: but they’re there, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Hydra handler Clint, HTP if you squint, lots of smut, I’m not tagging all the sex acts, Nothing coerced, All parties are petty eager here Summary:

Clint was in charge of the Winter Soldier for three hours. He didn’t fuck anything up, did he?

[sarahowritesostucky]

Unfortunately all the other short dribs'n'drabs I'd written to support various fanartists were lost when my Tumblr staff troll 🧌maliciously deleted my account. But I'm starting them up again 'cause they're such a neat way to show appreciation for all the hard work artists put into these amazing fanarts. This time I'll make some of them true drabbles.

Яoughly Tяanslated

“It’s okay,” Steve soothed. “You’re safe now.”

The Asset grunted uncomfortably. “V zhare …” He shifted on Steve’s lap, rubbing his wet bottom against Steve’s pants.

“Да,” Steve said. “Да, ‘In heat’. That’s what I’m here for, Honey. To help. Ya alfa.” 

The Asset’s nostrils flared nervously, and Steve’s hands smoothed over his sides. “I’m your new handler,” he lied, having been briefed on what to say to keep the omega calm throughout this process. “Ya dressirovshchik: I’m your handler.”

The omega stopped pulling against his restraints, pupils expanding. “... S-suprug?”

Steve’s heart clenched. “Да,” he whispered. “Да, Buck—I’m your mate.”

Chained to you by zichongcomic / goes with this (x) (x) (x) 

[gam3-b01]

winter

pairing(s): jeon wonwoo x reader

genre(s): angst

wc: ~1.3k

warnings: suggestive content (hankypanky related activities), just sad hours in general, minors dni just to be safe

(a/n: my first post on this blog, this was one of my earliest drafts and i needed to get it out of my system ahahsjdnd. the way some people might know who i am because i used the term hanky panky is concerning but also hilarious, if you see this i love you bro sorry for angst hours i stayed up too late to make sane decisions sorry i had to. song inspo for this fic is winter by two feet)

It's not a thing, right? This hasn't happened before.

But the familiarity with which you look up at him from under the covers slaps Wonwoo in the face before he has the time to process the content haziness clouding your eyes. His tense frame relaxes involuntarily, and he slips in beside you but not before checking your bare skin for any bruises he might have accidently left after almost soldering you to the mattress barely ten minutes ago. As he slips an arm around your middle and you tell him without any kindness whatsoever that his hands are way too cold for you (and that he should probably get checked for anaemia because, and he quotes, "even hell freezing over generates more fucking warmth than you do"), he realises he has to stop lying to himself and acknowledge the fact that realistically, this has actually definitely happened before.

This exact night, every single frame of it, happened last year. And the year before that. And the year before that one? No, the both of you were still together back then. Probably. What year was three years ago? Time was always a muddy, comically abstract concept when it came to each other for the both of you.

Maybe it would be easier for him to count the years winter to winter. Because when Wonwoo visits his hometown at the beginning of every December, a series of events occur. He sets his bags down at his place and spends the first week in radio silence recuperating with his family, ignoring the 20 odd messages he gets from Mingyu about his dog and updates (read: gossip) from their shared workplace. The next week usually is spent catching up with old friends mostly out of obligation, and the third week is occupied by Christmas. The fourth-ish week is when all of his friends asking about you begins to get to his head. By around the 28th of December, he's sick of lying awake in his childhood bed, staring at the ceiling as he tries to forget things that should never have happened in the first place. Eventually he sits up, runs a hand through his hair, puts on his glasses, and spritzes on something that you liked to call "sandalwood crack" before shrugging on his jacket and heading out.

Where to though? He pretends to think for a while before giving up. And when he steps into the bar after paying for his cab, he is never, ever surprised or secretly relieved when he spots you sitting in the stool furthest away from the air conditioning. You look wasted, but the soda cans strewn about you indicate otherwise. You've stopped drinking after the breakup. You're doing well with sobriety. He opens with that like the asshole he is, and you have the decency to cuss at him like a sailor and pass him a stool as you say something vaguely self-depreciating as a joke about the near-alcoholism you contracted back then. He opts for silence. And you ask him to take it easy despite him having opened the fire. Ever tolerant. Like the gentle undercurrents of a river (not like you didn't have a temper on you, you just tended to be nice when you saw him after long periods of time. Was it because you missed him? The mere thought had him shrivelling up a little inside). Wasn't he supposed to be the water sign between you both? He remembers the natal chart phase you had when you were nineteen, which reminds him you were his best friend of nine years before the both of you stopped talking. He expertly shoves that piece of information away before it tries to hurt him one more time.

(...What kind of best friend asks, no, begs him to leave and never contact them again? Maybe the kind whose best friend actually proceeded to do exactly that without ever putting up a fight? Fuck.)

Things somehow, without fail, end up leading you both to the nearest motel when one of you ends up saying something incredibly reckless and all the other person can do is gape hopelessly, words murdered in cold blood right when they were about to be bailed out from their throat. The rest of a night is a senseless, irresponsible blur, and then?

The rough part begins.

One of you is going to leave in the next thirty minutes if Wonwoo's doing his gut arithmetic right. He wished he sucked at math sometimes, he really did.

However, he blinks a bit. Something feels off, something feels different. You're not leaving (is it his turn this time..?). Instead, you're turning around, eyes vulnerable and still blown a little wide as you touch his hair with a flavour of fondness he could not imitate even if he tried his damndest to.

He freezes for only a second before his lips seek yours out of habit. He truly loathes the way he groans at how much it affects him, but what else is he supposed to do when he knows you're trying to hold back that little sound you make when you get desperate for him? He's almost willing to let you take the lead because he feels like his system is going into overdrive, willing to let you finally ruin whatever's left of him, but sanity prevails by a hanging thread as he takes back control from you with a firm hand on your jaw. His grip is gentle unlike earlier, and despite knowing you like it when he's mean to you, his eyes shine with something completely different when he breaks the kiss for a moment to take in everything he can about you right now and burn this anomaly into his memory.

(Because what else will he be ever be able to think of on every single cold, miserable night for many years to come after that look you gave him before he kissed you? That look that made it look like you still loved him, why did you have to do that?)

You're staring at him like you've been burned, and he's trying his absolute best not to flinch away when he sees raw, unabashed hurt begin to filter through your soft irises.

"Don't look at me like that." You start.

"Like what?"

"Like you-", you gulp nervously, eyes quickly losing the content sheen radiating off of you earlier.

"-like you actually want me or something."

Externally, the tenderness in his eyes is instantly replaced by whatever the fuck he usually looks like, but internally, he's trying his best not to scream. Your words are unfair, cruel even. How can the one person who knows him like the back of their hand not grasp the one fundamental truth that makes up his very core?

The alarm system inside his head built just for you tells him you feel sick, just like he does. He knows you've gleaned that much as well, and makes no effort to stop you as you slip out of the bed with the sheets hugging your chest in one fluid motion.

"I feel so sick, Wonwoo."

"I know."

Your heart is as tangled up as his is, and no matter how many times the both of you manage to land into each other's arms, neither of you seem to be capable of unravelling the other without tearing everything apart.

He watches you collect yourself before turning to him, face stone cold, with eyes that now look foreign to him as you deliver the parthian shot.

"I think that I should go."

[adelacreations]

Billy almost flinched at the hand on his shoulder, he wanted to scream at Hopper to get his fucking hand off him. He just shrugged it off instead, rolling his shoulders back. He couldn’t help the chuckle that left his mouth, startling everyone. “Cap-” “What do you people want? A thank you? You all should have left me in that damn fucking ice.” He snapped, blue eyes turning cold as he stepped forward. Guns immediately were lifted up as if to aim and shoot. Yes, shoot me… kill me. You should have never brought me back. The ice was my prison, my grave. Don’t you all know better than to disturb the dead? Billy almost flinched at the hand on his shoulder, he wanted to scream at Hopper to get his fucking hand off him. He just shrugged it off instead, rolling his shoulders back. He couldn’t help the chuckle that left his mouth, startling everyone. “Cap-” “What do you people want? A thank you? You all should have left me in that damn fucking ice.” He snapped, blue eyes turning cold as he stepped forward. Guns immediately were lifted up as if to aim and shoot. Yes, shoot me… kill me. You should have never brought me back. The ice was my prison, my grave. Don’t you all know better than to disturb the dead?

For this @harringrove-relay-race Captain America Billy Hargrove and Winter Solder Steve Harrington anyone? I'm so excited to post this, I have been having this au rattling in my head for a WHILE now! Comes with a lovely fic as well!

Passing the baton to @passivenovember! ❤️ Please look forward to what they got! 🥰

[kitsune024]

Resident Evil Fanfiction

show me that you're human. || ws!leon kennedy by QueenWithABeeThrone

Part 1. the ringing in my ears gets violent  I Chapters: 7/? I

"I’ll send you the coordinates for our rendezvous,” says Carlos. “In the meantime, be careful. These guys aren’t just brainwashed, infected villagers with pitchforks. They’ve got major artillery and they know how to use it, and that’s not to mention all this talk about El Segador.” “The reaper?” Chris asks. “Their nickname for the black-clad ninja bastard, apparently,” says Carlos, with a snort of laughter to show just how seriously he takes that name. “They also call him a ghost, a banshee, an omen of death—anything vaguely ominous, you name it, he’s it.” “So the guy’s got more titles than the dragon woman from Game of Thrones,” says Chris. “Great.” (or: the Winter Soldier!Leon Kennedy AU.

Part 2. another line without a hook I Chapters: 1/1 I

Leon touches the side of his neck, half-expecting a ring of metal around it. Nothing. He hasn’t been shoved into a chair and wiped in months. He can do this. (a Winter Soldier!Leon one-shot.)

Commission for @viciousmaukeries for their Winter Soldier AU! Check out their fic here!

[logansgaar]

Steve's never called Bucky 'Jamie' in his life. Bucky has never been called 'Jamie' in his whole life. It wasn't really a thing back in the 40s, not like it is now. There'd maybe the occasional Jim, Jimmy or Jimbo if Dum Dum was looking to rile the man up and get his hat stolen later, but never 'Jamie.'

Yet as this guy, this Peter fellow who came from the future- or another universe? Some kind of mix between the two? His head hurts thinking about it- spots Bucky, their Bucky, entering the lab in his peripherals he holds out a hand behind him without taking his eyes off his project; throwing out a "Hey Jamie, pass me the soldering pen, please? It's on the left next to a ginormous spool of wire."

Bucky, decidedly their Bucky and not this guy's 'Jamie' stops dead and his blank mask drops, eyes going wide as saucers.

Peter's fingers wiggle and when no tool appears in them, he looks up. His playful frown drops into genuine stammering embarrassment when he clocks the chrome arm.

"Oh god, I am so sorry I uh- I thought you were my Buck- I mean our, our! From my world, my one, not- As in not yours, not you. He's not my anything, even though I guess he is my Bucky it's just not uh-"

Bucky cuts the man off by picking up the tool in question and flicking it his way, which Peter catches swiftly out of the air. Steve tries to get a read on Buck, but his face has gone blank again, back to hiding behind the Winter Soldier training.

Another preview, this time of an AU I'm writing and the reason the installment the fic my last teaser was from hasn't been posted yet... Whoops. It's set during the new timeline Steve created when he told his past self Bucky was alive, while Peter is from another timeline. It's a bit convoluted but it's the multiverse, when isn't that convoluted??

[thestarkinternship]

Masterlist

Masterlist of all my writing!

One Shots:

Mine (Smut)

Gorgeous (Smut)

Crossing the Line (Smut)

Under the Table (Smut)

10 Minutes (Smut)

Whenever, Wherever (Angst)

Drabble:

On Your Knees (Smut)

Touchy (Fluff)

If Bucky Could Get Drunk (Fluff)

The Red Henley (Fluff)

Ghost of You (Angst)

[lunainlove]

Anyway here you have some of the fics I’ve read this past week bc they are so good and we share with the class

All of them are ghostsoap and pls read the tags and tw carefully! I’m adding a pic of the fics because I’m terrible at explaining things but I promise you they are so good

- nothing but my aching soul by Apollos_Last_Prophet

It’s a series with 2 works basically think winter solder soap, super fluffy, absolutely adore the family dynamic between the team, dad price supremacy, adore gaz in here. The first fic is from soap’s pov and the second from ghost’s. Second isn’t finished but the story concludes in soap’s fic so no problem with that. Read this thing in one day because I was addicted. Also we hater makarov.

- Silver and gold by headlocket

Another series because I’m a sucker for those. Basically our dear soap gets medically discharged and he and ghost are emotionally dumb so they don’t communicate until they do. Very heavy when it comes to soap dealing with his new disability but omg I really loved reading this fic. And I also adored the mactavish family in this one.

- No rest for the wicked by WispScribbles

Honestly just read all of their works because they are pretty awesome but I loved this one so much! Ghost and soap are married and forced out of retirement when our dear cap price goes MIA and gaz needs their help to get him back. Again, I’ve read all the works from this author because I really enjoy their writing and characterization

- the road to hell (is paved with good intentions) by sunshowers_and_dandelion_wine

This is another series with 2 works. Soap is a dragon and the 141 don’t know. We get lots of protective soap defending his family and I eat that shit up

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Bucky forcing you to take a day off after he finds out you're overworked and you're aching from working

Authors note: I swear someone requested this! I don't remember who though 😭Anyways I hope you enjoy! I love writing for Bucky so please send in request!!

Bucky knew you were a very independent person, it's one of the many things he loves about you, but he is hating that part of you right now. He can tell you're tired, exhausted even and not only is it physically exhausted but it's emotionally and mentally too. Even though it is obvious you need a break you are refusing to miss a day of work. He's tried everything but you just won't allow yourself to relax.

Today was his final straw though. You came home last night with a limp, and when he asked what happened you tried to brush it off knowing he'd be concerned when he finds out you got hurt at work. "I'm fine Buck" he scoffs "doll you're clearly hurt please tell me what happened." You sigh and begin explain to him that it was a simple accident at work today.

After you're done explaining Bucky sighs "Okay well you're taking the day off tomorrow so you can rest and your body can relax and I will not take no for an answer Doll. If you don't call off I will for you." You nod knowing he means business.

The next morning you wake up naturally, no alarm clock goes off, the sun didn't shine in your eyes, it was amazing until you saw it was passed noon. You freaked out thinking you overslept until you remember Bucky had you call off for the day. You relax and get out of bed to make food and as soon as you get out of bed, Bucky comes into the room with food and nothing but his boxers on. "Get back into bed doll what are you doing out of bed anyway?" He tsks as he sits the plates on the nightstand.

You sit up to take a sneak peek at what he made and you nearly tear up when you see he made your favorite. "Buck you really don't have to do all this I'm okay" He just shakes his head in disagreement. "You are taking a day off, I am a servant for you today. Whatever you want I'll go get for you and whatever you want to do we will do" He reassures you by kissing your head and handing you the remote before sitting in bed next to you. "So what are we watching?" he asks as he begins to eat. As you turn on a movie you could feel yourself truly relax for the first time in a long time.

[wildglitch]

Heres 25 fics I really wanna write but havent gotten around to yet

For those that wanna know before reading the list, the fandoms include are

Marvel, Spider-Man, Loki, DCU, Batman, Justice League, Pokemon, Shazam/Captain Marvel, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtels (The Last Ronin), Danny Phantom, Sonic the Hedgehog, Voltron, Gravity Falls, Over The Garden Wall, RWBY, Camp Camp, Rise Of The Guardiens, Star Wars (Rebels), Miraculos Ladybug and Chat Nori, Ninjago, How to Train Your Dragon, Final Space, My Hero Academia.

Thats one long list of fandoms-

I swear its not a big ass crossover fic with all these fandoms.

The rest of the Wiz! Fics. Though one of them is almost done

Winter dad fic. Peter is dealing, Bucky dosent remember him, but the solder definetly does.

Parksborn fic post NWH. Peter and Harry meet at collage and become roommates (this was canon for like a day lol) Harry has issues, Peter has more.

Parent Loki and Son Jack frost. I love the concept and already have some plot planned out

Billy Batson has somehow been the child host of Whiz radio for about 70 years

The Last Ronin Time Travel fic

Dadow time travel fic. A few fics continuing my first dadow fic starting with Silver in the future and present, and later on future shadow goes to the past. Its a lit if feels

Sonic was raised by egg man. No one knows this

5 times Sonic confused people by acting like tails dad, and the the on time tails suprised them by acting like his son

Babysitter James. Basically, the geovani is Ash's dad theory + What if team rocket are juat there to look after Ash theory. He takes him in, James becomes one of the best in team rocket, and as a sign of trust, he makes him be his newborns babysitter.

Back to Jack Frost, A fic following his time alone and time people he meet

Dead On Main fic were Jason despretly tries to keep his ghost boyfriend away from his family

Rosegarden Fic where Ruby and Oscar are childhood summer friends who lost contact.

Ezra time travel fic because Im obssesed with them

Skybridge fic taking place during Twin Suns because Im also obsesed with those fics

Dadvid fic. David Adopts Max and the 2 of them are trying to find a new normal

Pinecone lost in the woods fic.

MLB fix-It. Cat becomes a night time vigilante as a way to deal with the stress, lower class people become more fond of him.

Klance fic. Congratulations, you got through 15 fics before Klance appeared. Ex's au, Lance dose hate Keith foe a reason, they used to date. No one knows about this and think their just being stupid

Httyd fic where toothless wasnt discoverd in the first movie.

Final Space fic were Little Cato deals with the trauma if spending so many years alone.

Ninjago Kai fic for the Time he spent alone. I have talked about this before I think

RodyDeku reunion fic.

Nightguard Denki au. A Fnaf x Mha fic

Rai: The Phantom Theif of hero society. My TodoKami fic I have been trying to write since 2022

Thats the List. If your curiouse about any of these or just wanna bug me into finally writing them, let me know in my ask box.

[nekoannie-chan]

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 💚💙

[sebastiansluts]

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.