#this took me way too long please reblog this 🙏🏻

[bl00dline]

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

[deliciousangelfestival]

Let's Play Pretend - 1 | Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x singer! Female reader

Summary: You just wanted to hide here and find peace from the mess that wasn’t caused by you. But then, your hot neighbor bothered you. As if that wasn’t enough, the enemies you hated found you too.

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband on Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Shocking Split! Y/N L/N Dumps Fiancé After Drug Party Scandal

Betrayal Drama! Y/N L/N’s Manager Caught Stealing Millions for Gambling

Where’s Y/N? The Singer Vanishes Amid Scandals!

“I’ve always wanted to be a singer, but I never had the confidence to stand on a stage—until my music teacher, Mrs. Walls. She believed in me.”

Mrs. Walls sighed as she watched your Grammy interview on TV. You looked radiant, glowing with excitement after winning such a prestigious award. As a music teacher with years of experience, she had worked with many talented students, but you stood out uniquely.

At first, you were the shyest student in her class, hardly speaking above a whisper. But what surprised her the most was your natural gift: a perfect pitch. You could write down the notes to a song after hearing it just once, and you picked up musical instruments with ease. She vividly remembered showing you basic piano chords; within minutes, you were playing along effortlessly. The same thing happened when she introduced the guitar.

Her fondest memories were of you standing shyly at the front of the class, yet lighting up when it came to music. She smiled as she recalled your speeches at award shows: “I wouldn’t be here without my music teacher, Mrs. Walls. She was the first person who put faith in me.”

“That’s the last interview she gave us,” the gossip channel host said dramatically, feigning concern. “It’s been three months since anyone’s seen her. Where is Y/N L/N?”

Mrs. Walls frowned and turned off the TV with an annoyed grunt. “Urgh. Gossip vultures,” she muttered under her breath. She grabbed a glass of lemonade from the fridge and walked out to her garden. She noticed her guest seemed lost in thought, staring off into the distance. It had become a habit whenever she was in the garden.

“You’re not thirsty, huh?” she teased lightly, holding the glass toward someone sitting under the garden umbrella.

The person she handed the drink to was none other than the missing singer, Y/N L/N. For three months, the paparazzi had been on your trail, but they had no idea you were hiding here—in the sanctuary of your former music teacher’s home.

Mrs. Walls still remembered the night you appeared on her doorstep, mascara streaked down your face, eyes red and swollen from crying. You looked nothing like the glamorous star she’d seen on television, but instead like a lost child searching for safety.

“I don’t know where else to go,” you had whispered, your voice trembling.

In that moment, she didn’t see the world-renowned singer. She saw the shy, seven-year-old girl who used to sit in her classroom, clutching her music notebook like a lifeline. She hugged you tightly, her heart breaking for you. “Stay as long as you need, my dear,” she had said softly, ushering you inside.

Since that night, you’d been living quietly in her guest room. The once-vibrant star barely spoke, and the silence worried Mrs. Walls more than she let on. She watched as you avoided stepping outside, terrified of being recognized. The only place you seemed at peace was her garden.

She wondered, How long will you keep hiding like this?

You took the lemonade from her hand with a quiet “Thank you” but set it on the small table beside you without taking a sip. Sitting on the bench, you leaned back, tilting your face up toward the sky. The sun was warm, filtering through the leaves of the garden trees. Through your Ray-Ban sunglasses, you watched the golden rays dance, letting them calm your stormy thoughts.

Here, in this little haven, you could pretend the outside world didn’t exist. The judging eyes, the betrayals, the relentless cameras—everything melted away in the sunlight.

You thought back to three months ago, just after wrapping up your world tour. It had been the most significant milestone in your career, a dream come true. Exhausted but proud, you returned home, excited to move on to the next chapter of your life—starting a family with your fiancé.

But the moment you landed, things began to unravel. You’d called your fiancé multiple times, but he didn’t answer. At first, you thought he was busy, but a nagging feeling in your chest wouldn’t go away.

When the truth finally came out, it shattered you. Your assistant broke the news: your fiancé had been busted at a drug-fueled party. Worse, it was also a sex party.

You felt your chest tighten at the memory. That betrayal had cut deep. But it wasn’t the only one.

Later that week, you discovered that your longtime manager, someone you trusted implicitly, had embezzled your money to feed a gambling addiction. Two people you thought you could rely on had betrayed you in the worst ways possible.

One night, overwhelmed and broken, you drove aimlessly, tears blurring your vision. Without any plan or destination, you just kept going until you found yourself parked outside Mrs. Walls’ familiar home.

Even after all these years, she had always been honest with you. When you needed guidance, she gave it without hesitation. If she thought something was right, she’d say, “Go for it, my dear.” If it wasn’t, she’d warn, “No. You deserve better.”

Now, sitting in her garden, you sighed and closed your eyes, letting the sunlight warm your face. For a moment, you could almost believe you were that shy student again before fame and heartbreak had found you.

Mrs. Walls watched you silently, her heart heavy. She wanted to help, but she knew you needed to find your way back on your own.

“How long are you planning to hide here?” she finally asked, her voice gentle but firm.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you opened your eyes and looked at her. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Just like this, Mrs. Walls worried about you. You knew you were taking advantage of her kindness, aware she wanted you to step out of your shell, but you weren’t ready. The thought of facing the questions, the prying eyes, and the silent judgment was too much.

Just a little more time, you thought. That’s all I need. And some peace.

But peace wasn’t always easy to come by.

"VROOM!"

A sudden loud roar shattered the tranquility of the garden. The grating sound of a lawn mower filled the air, making you wince. You covered your ears, irritation flashing across your face.

Your gaze turns toward the source of the noise. “It’s already noon. The sun’s scorching hot��what kind of madman decides this is the best time to mow their lawn?”

“Well…” Mrs. Walls trailed off, watching the man seated atop the lawn mower. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

It's her neighbor, a man who had recently moved in. He wasn’t just any neighbor—he was one of her former students. Not from her music classes, though. He’d been one of the troublemakers, a kid who lived on detention slips and second chances.

“Bucky!” she called out, her voice carrying across the garden.

The man paused, cutting the engine. The deafening noise stopped, leaving an almost eerie silence in its wake. He climbed off the lawn mower, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

You squinted, ready to roll your eyes, but then your gaze lingered for a moment longer than you wanted. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his broad chest glistened with sweat. The sun highlighted the sculpted lines of his six-pack, and every step he took radiated an infuriating confidence.

Great, you thought bitterly. Annoying and ridiculously good-looking. Just my luck.

Mrs. Walls met him halfway, handing him a glass of lemonade. “Thank you,” Bucky said, his voice low and smooth.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled your eyes. “You’re welcome for the noise pollution,” you muttered loud enough for him to hear.

He turned, raising an eyebrow at you. “You’re welcome for cutting the grass, princess.”

“Princess?” you repeated, your tone sharp. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re out here ruining everyone’s peace, and I’m the problem?”

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest, the gesture only drawing more attention to his muscles. “Stop acting like a diva.”

Your jaw dropped. “I am a diva!”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, taking a long sip of lemonade.

“What rock have you been living under?” you snapped, glaring at him.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, his expression shifting to one of mild exasperation. What you didn’t know was that Bucky wasn’t as clueless as he seemed. For the past three years, he’d been living under the radar, cutting ties with his old life. His job had demanded secrecy, isolation, and sacrifice. He didn’t have the luxury of keeping up with the world, let alone pop culture or celebrity news.

The truth was, he hadn’t recognized you—not as the world-famous singer everyone else seemed to adore. To him, you were just the frustrating woman who had suddenly appeared in Mrs. Walls’ house and made everything more complicated.

But even as irritation bubbled under his skin, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued. There was a fire in you that clashed with his rough edges, and it both annoyed and fascinated him.

For Bucky, Mrs. Walls had always been a comforting presence—a grandmother figure who offered him advice and a safe space to talk. Her home had become a haven. And then you showed up.

Now, that peace was gone, replaced with constant banter and an energy that made it hard for him to stay indifferent.

Mrs. Walls watched the two of you, her lips twitching as if suppressing a smile. Despite your usual quiet demeanor, you seemed to come alive whenever Bucky was around.

“You two are like a pair of bickering children,” she muttered under her breath.

“Excuse me?” you said, shooting her a look.

“Nothing, dear,” she replied with a knowing smile, sipping her lemonade.

Bucky glanced at you, shaking his head. “You know, for someone who wants peace and quiet, you sure have a lot to say.”

“And for someone who wants to mow the lawn, you sure talk a lot for no reason,” you shot back, folding your arms.

Bucky laughed, low and mocking. “This is going to be fun.”

“Fun for you, maybe,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the garden, though your face was still flushed from the exchange.

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but glance at his retreating figure, hating how effortlessly confident he looked. Bucky, meanwhile, shook his head, pretending not to notice you watching him.

Both of you were equally exasperated—and similarly intrigued.

Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, holding it up between two fingers with a smug grin. “Alright, princess, let’s make a deal. If it lands heads, I’ll keep mowing. If it’s tails, I’ll stop, and you can go back to your precious nap.”

You crossed your arms tightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “I hate this game,” you muttered, watching as the coin gleamed in the sunlight. He always did this—turning everything into some sort of challenge just to get under your skin.

Bucky smirked, clearly enjoying your irritation. “I know. That’s why it’s so much fun.”

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, “Tails.”

He nodded mock-seriously, flicking the coin into the air with practiced ease. It spun rapidly, catching the light with every turn before landing in his palm. He slapped it onto the back of his hand, then slowly revealed the result with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Heads,” he declared, his voice full of triumph.

“Ugh!” You threw your hands in the air, frustrated, pushing off the bench. As you stomped toward the house, the wooden slats creaked behind you, muttering, “I’m getting noise-canceling headphones.”

Mrs. Walls watched you retreat inside, shaking her head with a fond smile. She turned to Bucky, who was spinning the coin between his fingers like a magician showing off his trick.

“You really should stop teasing her,” Mrs. Walls said gently, her tone a mix of reproach and amusement.

Bucky shrugged, slipping the coin back into his pocket. His lips curled into a devilish grin. “Nah… it’s fun.”

🌷🌷🌷🌷

You peeked through the blinds, trying not to let the soft rustle of the fabric give you away. Outside, Bucky was still chatting casually with Mrs. Walls. He leaned against the handle of the lawn mower, his broad shoulders relaxed, and his expression unusually serene.

How could he be so normal and polite with her, yet every time he spoke to you, it felt like he lived to make you grit your teeth?

You narrowed your eyes, watching him laugh at something Mrs. Walls said. That face… you thought bitterly. What a waste of a perfectly good jawline and those stupid dimples.

Letting the blinds fall back into place with a soft snap, you turned away and headed to your room.

Inside, the space was dim, the curtains drawn tightly against the glaring afternoon sun. The cool, muted light was a welcome contrast to the irritation buzzing in your head. You kicked off your slippers with a little more force than necessary and flopped onto the bed, burying your face in the pillows.

The mattress was soft, and the faint scent of lavender from the room’s diffuser helped ease the tension in your shoulders. But even as you lay there, trying to block out the world, your mind kept drifting back to the smug grin on Bucky’s face and the way he seemed to revel in riling you up.

“Urgh,” you groaned, rolling onto your side and hugging the pillow close. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to forget about him.

Eventually, the steady hum of the ceiling fan and the distant chirping of birds outside began to lull you into a state of calm. Your breathing slowed, and your grip on the pillow loosened. For now, rest was the only thing you wanted—a reprieve from the relentless antics of your maddeningly handsome neighbor.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

The dream came fast and vivid, like a storm. You were running—barefoot, your breath ragged and your heart pounding in your chest. Behind you, shadowy figures loomed, their voices sharp and cruel. The flash of cameras blinded you, their light like fire against your skin. You kept running, your legs aching, but the ground felt like quicksand, pulling you down.

You jolted awake, gasping for air. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as your heart raced, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to your mind. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, you saw the dim, glowing numbers: 2:00 a.m.

Sleep felt impossible now. The stillness of the house, once comforting, now felt suffocating. You swung your legs off the bed and walked to the window, pushing it open. Cool air rushed in, brushing against your flushed skin and carrying the faint scent of dew and earth.

“Should I go out?” you murmured to yourself. It was late—no, it was early—and the world outside was likely asleep. It might be safe.

Pulling on a hoodie and sweatpants, you crept quietly through the house. Every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet made your pulse spike, but you pressed on, determined. When you reached the door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the doorknob.

Flashes of the past flooded your mind—the crowd of paparazzi outside your apartment, shouting your name, their cameras clicking incessantly, their relentless pursuit. You clenched your eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“It’s different here,” you whispered, willing yourself to believe it. Slowly, you pushed the door open and stepped outside.

The cool grass greeted your bare feet as you stepped off the porch, the gentle night breeze brushing against your face. There was no one. No voices. No flashing lights. Just silence and the soft rustling of leaves in the dark.

You exhaled deeply, relief washing over you like a wave. One tentative step after another, you left the house, the distance growing between you and your sanctuary.

You wandered toward the park, the faint glow of streetlights guiding your way. The world felt peaceful, and for the first time in months, so did you—until the faint hum of an engine broke the stillness.

You glanced over your shoulder, your pulse quickening. A car was following you, its headlights low but its presence unmistakable. Then you saw it—a glint of metal, the unmistakable outline of a camera lens.

Shit. They’d found you.

Your heart pounded as the car crept closer. Picking up your pace, you started walking faster, then broke into a run.

“Y/N! Where have you been?” a voice called out from the car, loud and intrusive.

You didn’t answer, your breath quickening as you pushed yourself to move faster.

“Have you heard your ex-fiancé has rekindled things with his ex?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. What? Your mind reeled. You hadn’t even ended things officially, and he’d already moved on? That bastard. While you were here, broken and dealing with trauma, he was playing house?

“Is it true you gave money to your manager, knowing about his gambling addiction?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, glaring at the man hanging out of the car window. “No! I didn’t know! Leave me alone, you jerk!”

You started running again, your breath burning in your lungs, your legs aching. Desperation clawed at you as the car followed relentlessly. Then you saw him—a familiar figure jogging under the streetlights.

“It can’t be,” you whispered.

Without thinking, you sprinted toward him, your voice frantic. “Bucky! Help me!”

Bucky stopped mid-stride, his brows furrowed as he saw you running toward him. His routine early-morning jog had just turned unusual. His sharp eyes quickly took in the distress written all over your face. Before he could react, you leaped behind him, clutching the back of his hoodie and crouching slightly to shield yourself.

He stiffened, caught off guard. Then he saw it—a car slowing down, its passenger wielding a camera that kept flashing incessantly. The bright lights blinded him momentarily, and irritation sparked in his chest.

“Hey!” Bucky growled, marching toward the car. The camera flashes continued, and without hesitation, he snatched the camera from the paparazzo’s hands and smashed it against the pavement.

The paparazzo’s jaw dropped in shock. “My camera!” he yelled, scrambling to pick up the broken pieces.

But he wasn’t done. Pulling out his phone, the man began recording. “You’re a dead man! Who the fuck are you? Her boyfriend? Bodyguard?”

Bucky, his irritation mounting, opened his mouth to correct him, but before he could, you blurted out, “He’s my boyfriend.”

Bucky froze, glancing over his shoulder at you. Your grip on his hoodie tightened as you peeked around him, glaring at the paparazzo.

The man in the car stared at the two of you, his phone still recording. “This is going to be front-page news.”

Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell did you just drag me into?” he muttered under his breath.

Exciting News!

I’m thrilled to announce the release of my new book, Dad, I Can’t Let You Go—a heartfelt collection of short poems about loss, love, and the journey of missing someone deeply. This book is dedicated to my father and to anyone who has experienced the pain of losing a loved one.

Available now on E-Kindle Amazon!

Dad, I Can't Let You Go! <<< Here's the link.

Thank you for your support, and I hope these poems resonate with you.

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[on-wine-dark-seas]

For the fic writer asks, please 🥹🙏🏻

🫓🥘🍲 🍱 🍛 🍜 🍠 🍢🍣 🍥🍙 🥮 🍡 🍘 🍚

🫓 What is your most popular fic?

My most popular fic is my Dragon Age: Inquisition fic, Maledictus. Still. LOL

🥘 What category do most of your fics fall under?

Almost always romance/angst or hurt/comfort. And definitely smutty.

🍲 When did you start writing and why?

I wanna say I was writing fanfic before I knew what fanfic was when I was in third grade? Sailor Moon had just premiered in the US and I was enraptured. I'd seen anime before, of course, but never like this. Ultimate princess fantasy. But I wasn't satisfied with the adventures I was seeing. I wanted to know more, I wanted the characters to do something different. Most of all, I wanted to feel like I was part of the adventure. So I made my first OC, a girl named Jade. She still exists in some form and I may revamp her and give her a spot in my JJK 'verse. :3

🍱 Do you read your own fics?

I used to not do that because I'd always frown and find myself wanting to go back and rewrite a bunch of shit or add more or do something different. I also wasn't always as confident in my writing as I am, now. Now, though? I'll talk my shit. I'm so fucking good at this. I reread a lot of my old work just to see how much I've evolved as a writer. But I reread ALL of my current fics I've published this year. I'm at that stage where my own writing satisfies me. I also acknowledge that my writing style isn't everyone's cup of tea. That's fine too.

🍛 Have any comments, tags or reactions to one of your fics every made you laugh or cry or both?

I don't cry easily, but it's so fucking easy to make me laugh. Everything is amusing to me. I also don't get a lot of comments on my fics so I read each one thoroughly. The ones I do get are gems, tho.

🍜 Do you ever feel pressured to write?

Answered.

🍠 How long does it take you to write one of your fics or a chapter/part?

It takes as long as it takes. I don't set time limits or deadlines on myself. I impose chapter restrictions and I make a detailed outline. However long it takes to translate my outline into something worthy of being called a first draft depends on the story I'm telling. I have deleted entire chapters to start from scratch because the words I spit up were so unsatisfactory. So there's no way to know how long it'll take.

🍢 Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

My comments on AO3 are moderated for a reason, and my Dragon Age fics are locked to registered users only for a reason. I took a near ten-year hiatus from fandoms for a reason.

That's all I'll say about that for now.

🍣 What helps you focus or get in the mood to write?

Answered.

🍥 What's your favorite fic you've written?

Out of every fanfic I currently have published, it will always be Maledictus. I put my heart and soul into that fic and till this day people still comment on it and talk about how good it made them feel, how inspired it made them feel. That means a lot to me since the fic was pulled from a place deeply personal to me.

🥮 Do you have any writing milestones you're working toward?

Nothing too concrete, but I do want to get the next chapters of Highball out soon, and The Godslayer Project should be ready to go after the holidays are over. I'm hoping a change of scenery will stimulate my brain.

🍡 Which of your fics was the most emotionally difficult to write?

Answered.

🍘 Is there a fic or idea for a fic that you've abandoned?

Yeah, any of the Dragon Age fics that are not marked as complete are considered abandoned. Mostly because I simply don't have any interest in writing in that fandom anymore.

🍙 Is there a fic you wish had gotten more attention?

LOL...literally all of them? I don't pay attention to my stats on AO3 because I barely have any stats to track...like at all. It would be nice if people left thoughtful comments or reblogged and shared my work in their own little communities...some sign that all these hits, and kudos, and likes, and secret bookmarks are amounting to some measure of impact. But I've long since learned to not let myself get caught up or hung up on the numbers and algorithm game. The deck is already stacked against me: I'm Black, my OCs are obviously and visibly darkskinned Black women and shipped with fandom's male faves, etc.

If I get hung up on the numbers, which already don't favor me from the start, that's only going to discourage me and make me miserable. And then I won't write at all, and I am finally having fun and enjoying some measure of peace in my little sandbox.

🍚 What genre do you have the toughest time writing?

Horror. I'm bad at building tension and translating the truly horrifying shit in my head into words on the page that will convey that horror to my readers. I can describe blood and gore all day long but to truly frighten my readers? I need to tap in with that.

[poohbea]

Hi Mun! I didn’t see a character limit so I’ll kindly ask for a headcanon of the JJK men kissing their partners and types of kisses they enjoy! Lmk if this is too much 🙏🏻 I hope it’s ok!

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒.

feat: gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro, nanami kento, choso kamo, sukuna ryomen

content: fem!reader, implied smut, fluff, implied relationships, public teasing, pet names (baby, pretty (girl), doll, sweetheart, etc.), spanking, light choking

note from pooh: hi my love of course, no there isn't a character limit 😂 so your req is just fine. sorry this took so long hahaha, i had to figure out what to actually write for this since it's my first time doing a multi-character piece, but i think i got it figured out… sorta. so basically it consists of three key words, a brief overview of their kissing style, and then a scenario of said kissing style in action/what it would look like in a scene (it kinda felt better to do it like this so you wouldn’t have to read the same sentences about kissing over and over, hopefully my point still comes across). i’ve based their kissing styles/types on their personalities — also please take the keywords with a grain of salt, there is only so many words to describe how someone kisses and it was difficult 😂 if any sound weird or funny it’s because i couldn’t find a better word, i’m sorry in advance.

should we do a part 2? i have another list of six characters to do next so let me know.

WARNING: this is implied smut, so please ensure you have your age visible on your account before interacting. minors (below 18+), ageless and blank blogs will be BLOCKED

Hope you enjoy ♡ reblogs are greatly appreciated

ᝰ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

playful, teasing and passionate

Gojo is the type to make a game out of kissing you, whether it be in public or in private he’s always finding an excuse to ensnare you with his lips.

“Gojo,” He breaks your oncoming lecture with a teasing peck to your lips, cornering you in the darkest recess of the booth, ensuring that no one could see… well for the most part anyway. “We’re in public—“ Again he interrupts you, smiling as he sees you pout. “Satoru, I swear when we get out of here…”

“You’ll do what, baby?” He chuckles, hand sneaking beneath your dress, tracing mindless circles up your inner thigh. “Aw, don’t hide from me.” His lips path your jaw, each kiss sending a pulse down your spine, his fingers, that now lay dangerously close to your panty line, not aiding in your partially inebriated state.

Your ensuing moan makes him smirk, hips grinding into his digits subtly, but not subtle enough to go unnoticed. “Careful baby, we don’t need the whole restaurant seeing my hand between these pretty thighs, now do we?” All you could muster was a hushed whine as he applied gentle pressure to your clit.

He loved making you squirm, especially in public. The simple press of his lips against your neck, the teasing flick of his tongue along the shell of your ear and the chaste pinch of his teeth at your collar bone. All enough to render you to nothing more than a desperate, wanting mess.

“Satoru.”

“Yes, pretty girl?” The question comes in the form of a whisper, a devious smile plastered on the man’s lips as he continues his ministrations beneath the table.

Curiosity overcomes him as you turn, the close proximity allowing your breath to meld with his in your silence. In all honesty he was growing antsy. His own teasing riled him up to the point where he was close to just taking your food to go, but he made you a promise.

“Let’s go.” You say as if reading his mind. And with that, his lips finally meet yours in a passionate kiss, one that almost knocks the air clean from your lungs.

ᝰ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

enticing, intoxicating, commanding

Geto is a mysterious man, one who likes to take change and enjoy the way you melt at the touch of his lips against yours.

“Suguru, please.” He’d only kissed you once and yet you were already begging for more. A thick fog of lust blanketing your mind as you attempt to draw him closer, not that that was even possible considering you were already chest to chest.

His tongue parts your lips as he delves deeper into you, fingers laced in your hair to prevent your unlikely escape. He was a drug and you were his addict, you needed him, craved him. The intoxication was too great to deny even he knew that, but fuck was it still captivating to hear your desperate whimpers. To witness the shiver of your body that seethed at each press of his lips against your own.

“Tell me what you want, my love.” He breathes as you part, teeth capturing your bottom lip playfully, daring you to return to the tempting prison of his kiss.

“More.” Was all you could muster, whining as he prolongs the intermission. “I need more, please.”

With a smirk he closes the already minuscule space between your faces, ghosting his lips oh so temptingly against yours. “So come and get it, sweetheart.”

ᝰ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

dominant, deep, heated

Now I’m sure we’re all aware of just how overwhelming this man can be, he exudes dominance and it’s very present in the way he kisses you.

“So perfect.” Toji mumbles against your pillowy lips, hands perched on your ass as they squeeze the supple flesh.

He swallows your gasp as soon as it sounds, opting to pin you firmly into the mattress. His tongue dances with yours in a routine only he could lead, for he knew it better than anyone. A tango of unimaginable desire and you were just along for the ride.

“Toji-“ Your cries only egg him on, ego inflating further as you fail to kiss him back, unable to withstand the eagerness of his lips.

“That’s it doll, moan for me just like that. Tell me who makes you feel this good.” You hick as he kisses you deeper, your mind overwhelmed by his formidable presence.

Each high-pitched moan fueled the fire roaring in the pit of his stomach. The very one that threatens to ravage you mercilessly in the heat of the moment, setting both you and Toji alight in a blaze of pure licentious bliss.

ᝰ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

tender, mollifying, loving

Oh, Nanami, sweet perfect Nanami. This man gives the most tender kisses, you can feel every pleasant thought, every silent ’I love you’, every ounce of adoration this man has for you is relayed in his kisses.

After a long day's work, Nanami looks forward to coming home to you the most. To drop all his belongings at the door in search of you, blindly mapping the layout of his home as he listens for your presence. A hum, music, the tapping of a keyboard. He finds you content behind your desk, so focused on your work you don’t even notice him in the doorway.

As he steps through the threshold your gaze shifts, a smile gracing your glossy lips before they part in greeting. However, before you could get a word out, Nanami takes your face in his hands, pulling you from your chair to meet his lips in a soft yet ardent kiss. The hardships of the day dissipate with each slip of his tongue, your body relaxing into him as he draws you closer.

When you finally part, he lays a kiss on your forehead, practically falling to his knees as he succumbs to exhaustion.

You chuckle softly, joining him on the floor. “Rough day?” He sighs as you lay his head on your chest, fingers combing through his disheveled locks.

He meets your gaze silently, hand cupping your cheek to peck your lips. “Not when you’re here.”

ᝰ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

possessive, leading, warm

Choso is a soft spoken man, however, that doesn’t mean his kisses are soft. On the contrary he’s quite possessive when it comes to you.

“Choz- mmph!” He cuts you off with a fervent kiss, your back hitting the wall of the entryway.

He guides your hands to his hair, his own arching your back as he draws your hips against his. The memory of that fucker’s gaze on your lips drove him further, adamant to get his admittedly childish point across.

“You’re mine, right baby?” He mumbles against you, your breath shallow against his skin.

“Yes, but what was that for?” Warmth radiates from his flushed skin, contemplation evident in his eyes as he fails to respond. “Choso…”

“I needed to prove a point.” The answer silences you, your confused expression soon brightening in the form of a giddy smile. “What?” He whines, absentmindedly kissing the corners of your lips.

“You’re a dork.” You giggle, drawing him into a kiss once more, this one warmer and devoid of the frustration he’d harboured for so long.

ᝰ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

authoritative, carnal, ravenous

Sukuna doesn’t play games, he might at times just to tease you like Gojo (only ten times worse), but that gets old quickly. Sukuna will ravage you without mercy, you will be gasping for air by the time he’s done kissing you.

You weren’t sure what exactly set him off, maybe it was the skirt you wore while grocery shopping, maybe it was because you weren’t wearing anything underneath, or maybe it was the fact that you bent over in said skirt right in front of him.

Whatever it was, had lead you here, straddling Sukuna in the backseat of his car at 10 pm in an empty parking lot, his tongue down your throat, hands unashamedly gripping handfuls of your ass as he forcibly rubbed your clit against his growing bulge.

“‘Kuna, ‘m thawry.” You babble between brief breaths, his lips the gate-keeper of your vocabulary. He was hearing none of it.

With a harsh smack to your ass you gasp, assisting in the insertion of his tongue deeper down your throat. Your nails dig into his biceps as he continues, unbothered by your pleas for separation.

As mad as he was, he couldn’t deny the carnivorous hunger circulating his mind whilst watching you saunter around in that skirt of yours. It took everything in him not to fuck you in the frozen food isle, even more so when you bent over just a little too far, your pretty pussy begging to be touched.

But that would have to wait.

“‘Kuna.” Again he slaps your ass, his free hand clasping the back of your neck when you attempt to flee.

When he’s finally had enough he relaxes against the headrest, both your lips plump and rosy. Lightheaded, you breathe deeply, forehead pressed gently against his own. “Learnt your lesson?” He chuckles darkly, eyes just as dark in their overly dilated state. When you don’t answer he wraps a large hand around your throat, lips grazing yours in warning.

“Yes.” You sigh, breathing finally returning to normal.

“Good, now let’s go home and finish what you started.”

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[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 4

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden love between a princess and her bodyguard. They love each other deeply, but their relationship is threatened by the tyrant king's oppressive rule and their differing social statuses.

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“When the time is right, we will make our move,” Bucky declared, his voice resolute.

“Finally, our time has come,” Isaac, one of the resistance members, said. He was among the many whose family had been ruined for not supporting King Leonard's ascension.

“We want justice for what we've been through!” Lucas, another member, shouted, rallying the others into a cheer.

It was a well-known fact that King Leonard was a tyrant. Though the country appeared prosperous, many suffered behind the scenes, including the members of Bucky’s resistance. Each person in this room had been directly affected by Leonard’s ruthless rise to power.

The opposition, whether politicians or civilians, faced dire consequences for resisting the king. They lost their assets, their money, and often their lives. Bucky himself was a victim.

His mother, a vocal opponent of Leonard, had disappeared when Leonard began his ascent. When Bucky asked his father about her, he only responded, “It's best if you act like she didn’t exist.”

Those words left a lasting mark on Bucky. Over time, he discovered he wasn’t the only one who had lost a family member to Leonard's tyranny. At the military academy, he met Isaac, Lucas, and others who eventually formed the resistance.

As they planned their coup, the room buzzed with intense discussions and strategies. Isaac turned to Bucky, saying, “You play your part well. If we get the king, you could easily enter the royalty since you have the princess under your palm.”

The mention of you changed the atmosphere around Bucky. He glared at Isaac. “She’s not part of the plan.”

Seeing Bucky's anger, Isaac raised his hands in surrender. “Yup, I'm sorry,” he muttered before stepping away.

Bucky harbored no love for the tyrant king, but his feelings for you were different. You were innocent, a victim of circumstances beyond your control. He had grown up close to you and knew your struggles. This coup was as much about setting you free as it was about toppling Leonard.

The night was filled with fervent planning. Detailed strategies were discussed, each member contributing to the master plan to overthrow the king.

The next day, Bucky received a call from you. “The king wants to meet us,” you said, uncharacteristically cheerful. Given your complicated feelings toward your father, it was rare for you to show such enthusiasm.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

The day before

“Your Highness,” the servants greeted you as you nursed a headache with aspirin.

“Yes?” you replied, glancing up from your seat.

“Your Majesty has invited you to play chess.”

Both you and the king had starkly different personalities, yet you shared a common passion for chess. You found solace in the game’s strategy, a rare escape from the burdens of your royal duties. The king, ever the strategist, enjoyed the mental challenge it provided, a way to sharpen his mind amidst his ruling responsibilities.

“Tell the king to give me 10 minutes,” you instructed, rubbing your temples.

“As you wish, Princess.”

You knew better than to keep the king waiting too long. Within the allotted 10 minutes, you arrived at his game room. The room was a relic from another era, with its only entertainment options being a billiard table and a chessboard. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and leather.

Leonard had been waiting, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp with anticipation. He gestured to the chessboard between you. As you both took your seats, the game began. The soft clacking of chess pieces and the occasional murmur of strategy filled the room.

Leonard broke the silence. “Tell me, why don’t you want to marry Cassian?”

You moved a pawn, your eyes focused on the board. “My heart only belongs to one person. If I married another, I’d be a runaway bride.”

Leonard scoffed, clearly unimpressed. He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the armrest, his gaze fixed on the chessboard as if it were a mere inconvenience.

You countered with a steely resolve. “It would be humiliating for you and for me. The king of Verudian have to bowed his head in apology to another country. It would be dreadful for both you and the kingdom.”

You leaned forward, attempting to reason with him. “Just as you loved my mother, the only person who truly held your heart, I feel the same way. It’s not something I can just ignore.”

Leonard’s hand hovered over a chess piece, the weight of your words hanging in the air. He sighed deeply. “In this world, you are the only one who shares my blood. My daughter. I want the best for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his admission. The words were a rare glimpse into the complexity of his feelings. “I understand what’s at risk. But you can’t ignore my feelings in this. I’ve spent years pleading for your blessing, and I’ve been patient. For once, can’t you consider what would make me happy?”

Leonard’s face remained a mask of stern calculation, though there was a flicker of something more vulnerable in his eyes. He exhaled sharply as if the weight of your words had momentarily pierced through his armor of indifference.

“I want what’s best for you, not just for me,” Leonard finally said, his voice tinged with reluctant resignation. He reached for a chess piece, his movements deliberate and slow.

His hand hovered over the piece, his fingers trembling slightly as he set it down. “You have the same persistence as me, and it’s clear you’re not going to give up easily.”

You leaned forward, heart pounding. “So, you’ll allow it?”

Leonard fell silent, his intense scrutiny making you shiver. After a moment, he reached out, his hand firmly grasping the piece you had taken. He moved it decisively, and then his eyes met yours.

“If I give you my blessing, will you stop hating me?” he asked, his voice softer but carrying a heavy weight.

You flinched, momentarily thinking you had misheard. After all these years of pleading for his blessing, could this finally be the moment you had waited for?

“Father?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Leonard looked at you with a resigned yet stern expression. “You’re right. You have the same persistence as me. All you’ve ever wanted from me is to marry him.” He paused, his eyes darkening. “I’ll allow it.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, you stood from your seat and embraced him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you said, your voice breaking with relief.

Leonard was taken aback by the sudden display of affection. It had been a long time since you had shown him such warmth. His stiff posture softened, and for a moment, he was caught off guard by your genuine gratitude.

Finally, your prayers had been answered. The weight of the past years seemed to lift off your shoulders as you relished the moment.

“You should start the wedding plans,” Leonard said, his tone matter-of-fact.

“This early?” You asked, still glowing with excitement.

“You’ve been waiting long enough,” Leonard replied curtly. “Why delay any further?”

“Yes, you’re right. I’ll go tell Bucky right away.” You said, already eager to share the news.

Leonard nodded. “After that, have him come to see me.”

“I will,” you promised, turning to leave with a bounce in your step.

As you left to share the good news with Bucky, Leonard remained in the room, his eyes fixed on the closed door.

A low chuckle escaped his lips. He picked up the knight chess piece, his fingers tracing its contours. After a moment, he broke the top part of the knight with a deliberate snap. The shattered piece fell to the table, a dark reflection of his true intentions.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Present day

Bucky could hardly believe his ears when you announced, “He finally gave us the blessing.”

He pulled you into a tight embrace at that moment, his heart pounding with relief and unrestrained joy. Every sacrifice, every tear you had shed, and all the time spent waiting culminated in this single, breathtaking moment.

Bucky’s eyes were moist with unshed tears, his voice choked with emotion as he murmured against your hair, “I can’t believe it’s finally happening. We can be together.”

The weight of the years of struggle and hidden longing seemed to lift off both of you as you walked hand in hand towards the king’s chambers. The halls of the castle, usually cold and imposing, felt warm and alive with the promise of change. You and Bucky exchanged smiles and knowing glances, savoring the rare moment of peace before facing the king together.

When you entered the chamber, you both bowed deeply. “Your Majesty,” you said with a voice full of gratitude.

Leonard looked up from his desk, his expression inscrutable but his eyes sharp and calculating. “Princess,” he acknowledged with a nod, “Bucky.”

You stepped forward, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. “Thank you, Father. I never thought this day would come. I’m so grateful for your blessing. It means everything to us.”

Leonard’s eyes remained on you, but Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. He struggled to focus on the conversation, his mind racing with questions and doubts.

Why now? He thought, Why did the king suddenly relent? The timing doesn’t feel right.

Leonard then turned his attention fully to you. “You should discuss the wedding plans further with the planners. Now, leave us alone,” he said, his tone firm yet not unkind.

You nodded, still clutching Bucky’s hand, and left the room, leaving Bucky alone with the king. The atmosphere in the room shifted as soon as the door closed behind you. The air grew thicker, and Bucky’s instincts screamed at him that something was wrong.

The once grand and regal space now felt oppressive and claustrophobic, the air thick with an unspoken threat. The golden light that had once symbolized grandeur seemed to cast long, sinister shadows across the room.

King Leonard, who had earlier appeared as a benevolent father figure, now exuded an aura of dark authority. He rose from his throne with a deliberate movement, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits of cold resolve.

The transformation was chilling; the king’s earlier warmth was replaced by a ruthless edge, a reminder of why he was feared across the kingdom.

With measured steps, Leonard approached an old display case at the room's far end. Inside was a sword—a relic of the past, its blade reputed to have ended countless lives.

It symbolized power and brutality, a testament to the king's unyielding dominance. Leonard’s hand moved with a practiced grace as he lifted the sword from its resting place, the blade catching the light and casting a menacing gleam.

“Your Majesty thank you for the blessing,” Bucky said, his voice barely more than a whisper. He tried to mask his fear but couldn’t hide the slight tremor in his tone as he watched Leonard approach. He bowed deeply, his heart pounding in his chest, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

Leonard’s footsteps echoed ominously against the marble floor as he advanced toward Bucky. The sword, now in his hand, seemed to radiate a malevolent energy. The king’s face, once serene, was now a mask of grim determination. Each step Leonard took seemed to reverberate with the promise of impending violence.

Without a word, Leonard closed the distance between them. The sword was held aloft, its blade catching the light and casting a cold, steely gleam. Leonard’s movements were precise and deliberate as he positioned the sword at Bucky’s neck. The cold metal pressed against Bucky’s skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

Bucky’s breath came in short, shallow gasps as he felt the sharp edge of the blade graze his neck. The metal was unforgivingly cold, a harsh contrast to the warmth of his own fear. Leonard’s hand was steady, his grip firm and unyielding as he held the sword in place.

The intensity of the moment was palpable. Leonard’s eyes were fixed on Bucky with a look of icy disdain, his expression devoid of any hint of mercy.

Leonard’s voice, when he spoke, was a low, dangerous growl, each word dripping with contempt. “Do you think I wouldn’t know about your little plan? You’ve been living in my kingdom, plotting behind my back. How dare you try to undermine me.”

The words were a cold, harsh reprimand that only heightened Bucky’s dread. He could feel the sword’s sharpness pressing against his skin, a tangible threat that made his pulse race and his breath hitch.

Leonard’s grip on the sword remained steady, his gaze unflinching. The blade’s edge was a constant reminder of Leonard's brutal power—power that was both feared and revered. He was the tyrant king.

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[deliciousangelfestival]

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 16

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

Warning: Tragedy, Angst, Manipulation, Intimidation

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After what happened at the charity event, especially with Jonathan getting beaten up and sent to the hospital, everything descended into chaos. The words that came out of Patrick’s mouth traveled fast, becoming the hottest gossip in the elite circle.

It was the opposite inside one room. It was quiet. Too quiet. Because it was a patient room. Bucky was still sleeping, not waking up after his last encounter with his kidnapper. The bad dreams he had buried for a long time had resurfaced, haunting him again.

In his dream, he was a kid again, sitting on the cold floor, hugging himself. Behind the door, he heard some adult men laughing, their voices harsh and menacing. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the cracks under the door. The walls were bare, and the floor was cold and unforgiving. The air was thick with the smell of damp and neglect.

The laughter stopped abruptly. The door, which had been closed, creaked open. Finally, he could see a sliver of light again. Suddenly, the oppressive darkness receded.

“Wake up, Bucky.” He lifted his head and saw a person standing tall, holding a baseball bat in one hand.

It was you.

You leaned closer, offering your hand to him. “Time to go home,” you said softly.

Bucky slowly opened his eyes. The brightness almost blinded him, but soon his eyes adjusted to the light. He felt his left hand was heavier but warm.

He moved his head a bit and saw you, asleep on the side of his bed. Your hand was gently resting on his, your face soft in sleep. He noticed the slight rise and fall of your shoulders with each breath, the way your hair fell over your face. The sight filled him with a sense of comfort and safety he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Bucky’s fingers twitched slightly, the warmth of your hand grounding him in reality. He took a deep breath, the sterile scent of the hospital mixing with the faint scent of your perfume. For the first time in days, the nightmares began to fade, replaced by the reality of your presence.

His heart swelled with gratitude. You had been there for him, even when lost in his darkest dreams. He knew he wasn’t alone anymore.

He watched you for a moment, feeling a deep sense of relief. He didn’t want to wake you, but he needed to let you know he was alright. With a gentle squeeze of your hand, he whispered, “Hey.”

You stirred, blinking groggily as you lifted your head. When you saw Bucky’s eyes open, a wave of emotions washed over your face—relief, joy, and concern all at once. “Bucky! You’re awake,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

He nodded, his voice still weak. “Thanks for being here.”

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else. How are you feeling?”

“Tired, but better now,” he said, his voice gaining a bit of strength. “I... I saw him.”

Your heart ached for him. “I know. But you’re safe now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Bucky took another deep breath, feeling the weight of your words. “It felt so real, like I was back there again. But then you showed up. You saved me.”

You smiled softly. “You saved yourself, Bucky. I was just there to remind you that you’re not alone.”

A soft knock on the door interrupted the moment. A nurse peeked in, smiling when she saw Bucky awake. “Good to see you up, Mr. Barnes. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” Bucky replied, managing a small smile. “Thanks.”

The nurse checked his vitals and noted his progress. “You’ve got quite a few people waiting to see you. Should I let them know you’re awake?”

Bucky glanced at you, then nodded. “Yeah, let them know.”

As the nurse left, you leaned closer to Bucky. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

He squeezed your hand again. “Thank you.”

Minutes later, the door opened again; Rowan and Juliana hurriedly entered the room, their faces etched with worry.

“Bucky!” Juliana rushed to his side, her eyes filled with tears. “Are you alright?”

Bucky gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Mom. Really. But I have to leave now.”

Juliana frowned, her hand gently resting on his arm. “You just woke up. You need to rest.”

Bucky shook his head, a determined look in his eyes. “I feel better than ever, Mom. I’m finally free from the bad dreams that have haunted me for so long.”

Rowan, standing beside Juliana, placed a firm hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Son, what are you planning to do?”

Bucky’s gaze hardened, his jaw set with resolve. “What I want to do now is give a lesson to the source of my nightmares. I can’t let this go on any longer.”

His parents exchanged a worried glance. Juliana's eyes softened as she reached out and touched Bucky’s cheek. “Just promise us you’ll be careful.”

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. “I promise. I’ll take care of this, and then I’ll come back. I need to do this.”

As he stood up, you, Rowan, and Juliana watched him, knowing there was no stopping him now. Bucky was determined, and nothing would stand in his way. Except for Rowan, whose mind was already on picking a good lawyer in case Bucky did something out of line.

🤜

Inside the shady bar, Lance watched the video of Patrick beating up Jonathan. He saw Genevieve standing by, watching her husband get pummeled.

Lance chuckled and puffed smoke from his mouth. "She left me for that guy? Idiot." He muttered. He leaned back, a smirk spreading across his face. Genevieve and he went way back, like Bonnie and Clyde. They were the perfect criminal partners, but one day, she decided to leave and chase a rich guy. He shook his head, still smirking, as he flicked the ash from his cigar.

Suddenly, his relaxation was interrupted by a scream, "Boss! Someone is attacking us!"

Lance stood up quickly, grabbing his gun. He saw many men in suits, each armed, entering the bar. He was completely outnumbered.

The uninvited group made a path for someone. This person looked different from the rest. Lance immediately recognized him. The little boy who once looked helpless had now grown into a formidable man.

From that second, he knew. He had fucked up.

Lance didn’t remember what happened next, but he woke up tied to a chair in a dark room, illuminated by a single bulb. In front of him were various torture devices. He screamed, "Help!!!" The once-strong man now trembled like a scared child. Who would have thought that Lance's weakness was needles?

Bucky watched everything from a TV screen, with Rowan beside him. Rowan’s face was impassive, but his eyes showed a mixture of concern and resolution.

"How long are you going to keep him here?" Rowan asked, his voice calm but firm.

Bucky’s gaze never left the screen. "Half of my life was robbed by him. He will spend the rest of his life here." He turned away, his posture tense but determined. "I have a lot more work to do. I need to make sure to erase Lance's existence from this world."

Rowan nodded, his expression one of silent agreement. He wouldn't say anything against Bucky's decision; if his son finally defeated his demons, he would support him.

🏥

Back to Jonathan, who had slipped into a coma for a while. The doctors had assured everyone that he would wake up shortly.

Jonathan who still asleep, but he could still hear everything around him. Genevieve’s frantic voice pierced through his foggy consciousness: “The investors want to sue us? On what grounds?” she screamed at the company lawyer.

Then he heard Victoria's distressed voice. “Mom, what the heck? My image is ruined, and all the brands are cutting their ties with me!”

Neither of them expressed any concern for him.

The Celestial Enterprises had fallen apart in just a few days. While Jonathan lay helpless, Patrick had launched a relentless attack on the Sinclair empire, dismantling it piece by piece, like plucking petals from a flower.

How could Patrick do it so effortlessly? He had the help of the Barnes family. Bucky had uncovered the dark history between Genevieve and Lance, adding more fuel to the fire. The Celestial's share price plummeted, and they found themselves in hot water.

Jonathan finally woke up. As his eyes fluttered open, Genevieve rushed to his side, her face a mask of worry. “We need you. The company needs you,” she pleaded, her voice trembling.

He stared at her with piercing eyes, the depth of his disappointment and regret palpable in his gaze. “Why did I choose you?” His voice was barely whispery, yet it cut through the air like a knife.

Genevieve's breath hitched. “You…” she started, but he cut her off.

“Why did I abandon my Ophelia for someone like you?” Jonathan’s voice was cold and distant.

“Stop it,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

Jonathan ignored her plea. “Fast forward Victoria's wedding. It will help the company,” he ordered, his voice devoid of emotion.

Genevieve was shocked. “You’re going to send our daughter to marry that psycho?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Jonathan’s gaze remained cold and unyielding. “Do it,” he commanded, turning his face away from her. He seemed utterly unbothered by the collapse of his empire, his mind consumed by regrets and a relentless drive to salvage what little he could.

Genevieve's hands trembled as she backed away, her mind reeling from the coldness in his eyes. She realized that the man she once thought invincible was now shattered, and she was left to pick up the pieces of a life built on lies and ambition.

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[deliciousangelfestival]

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 9

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The silence and awkwardness were thick in the air. Jonathan looked at you and said, "Come with me."

You followed him to a private room. He leaned against the billiard table and crossed his arms. "Why are you doing this?"

He was actually impressed with you for having Bucky as your shield. But to take something from Victoria? It wasn't like you, since you usually chose to ignore her.

"Isn't it obvious?" you replied, standing your ground.

He smirked. The way he acted was not like a father talking to his daughter but more like a gangster addressing a subordinate.

"I'll see what you've got," Jonathan said, straightening his suit. He turned to leave the private room.

Before he opened the door, he heard you say, "I still don't understand what you see in her." Your voice was steady, but you didn't look at him.

Jonathan paused for a moment, his hand on the door handle.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He remembered the quiet days with Ophelia and you. It was peaceful but boring.

As a successful man, he wanted to face something that challenged his adrenaline. That's when he met Genevieve. She gave him something that he needed: excitement.

He admitted that he went out of control. That resulted in the death of his first wife. Ophelia's face was still engraved in his memory, especially since your face was a carbon copy of hers.

Ophelia was calm and patient but fragile. You used to act like her, too, and it scared the hell out of him. He wished you to be different from your mother.

Be careful what you wish for. Jonathan should have remembered that saying because you changed into something he couldn't control.

It was exhausting to keep you in place. So when you challenged him to leave the house, he accepted it. And he cut all your resources to see how long you would survive.

His calculations were wrong. You were so stubborn and chose to live with Cassandra, his mother-in-law. He hated that woman. She cursed him right to his face and blamed him for Ophelia's death.

Jonathan said, "I understand your hatred. But did you expect me to leave her?"

"Maybe. Perhaps one day you'll realize that your mistress is a Beelzebub," you replied.

"You're quite creative," he chuckled, then he left.

You turned around and stared at the closed door, clenching your fists. Every word that came out of his mouth made you hate him even more. Your jaw tightened, and you could feel your heart pounding with a mix of anger and frustration.

After the empty talk with your father, you went back to be with Bucky. He saw the lifeless look in your eyes. The lively you had gone quiet. The short talk with your dad had drained your spirit.

Bucky felt your despair as if you were drowning in darkness. He gently touched your arm. “Are you alright?”

You nodded. “I'm sorry I left you alone.” You felt something was missing, but also a sense of peace. Looking around, you noticed Genevieve was not here or your dad.

“She left,” Bucky said.

You raised your eyebrows. It seemed impossible, considering Genevieve loved to be the center of the party.

“I said something that hurt her feelings,” Bucky explained.

“Really?” you asked, surprised that Bucky had confronted Genevieve.

While you were talking with your dad, Genevieve had approached Bucky. “You're really nice for bringing her, but I wonder why you didn't bring Victoria with you? Since she's your fiancée.” She emphasized the word "fiancée."

Bucky was silent momentarily before responding, “I've already talked to Jonathan, and he's okay with it.”

Genevieve sneered, “I never thought a dignified man would act like this.”

“At least I didn’t destroy someone’s marriage,” Bucky retorted calmly.

Genevieve flinched. If someone else had mentioned this, she wouldn’t have been offended. But coming from someone like Bucky, someone more affluent and influential than her, brought back memories of when everyone had pointed fingers at her. She knew she had taken someone’s place—Ophelia, the true Madam Sinclair.

She huffed and left the party. That was when she saw her husband emerging from the private room.

You chuckled. All your life, you had called Genevieve a mistress, and she never budged. Instead, she would give you a look and say, “So what?” But with Bucky, she was so offended that she left the party.

Bucky recounted the exchange, and you laughed softly. “Pfft.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. “All my life, I’ve called her a mistress, and she never flinched. But one word from you, and she’s out the door.”

Bucky grinned. “Sometimes, it just takes the right person to say it.”

💋💋💋💋💋

Because of your grand entrance, everyone at the party—Celestial Enterprises employees and investors—now knew of your existence.

You were exhausted, and Bucky kindly drove you back to your place.

To be exact, a new home.

Bucky's family moved fast. They weren't kidding when they said they had prepared a reward for saving Bucky.

You walked out of the car and entered the house. The house they gave you was different from your grandmother's house. Your previous home had only two bedrooms and one bathroom, while this new house had four bedrooms and three bathrooms. The incredible thing was that Bucky had provided your grandmother with a 24/7 caretaker and had prepared the best doctor for her surgery.

When you entered the house, your grandma was awake, her bedroom door still open. It seemed she couldn’t sleep because she was in a new place. But her caretaker had done a good job of keeping Cassandra calm and not confused.

Cassandra widened her eyes when she saw you. She opened her arms. “My dear Ophelia. You look so beautiful.”

You smiled and gave her a hug. The dress you wore was designed by your grandmother. She was so talented. In her eyes right now, you were Ophelia wearing the dress.

She noticed someone standing behind you. She giggled and whispered, “You said he’s just a friend. But what is he doing here late at night?”

You blushed at her comment.

“But honey, you can’t let this go on. We’re going to meet the Sinclairs next month.” Cassandra looked at you sadly.

You were taken aback. Did this mean your mom had a boyfriend before she met your father?

You looked at Cassandra, who was already yawning and starting to feel sleepy. You didn’t dare to wake her up and ask what she meant.

Did seeing you with Bucky trigger your grandma’s memory?

💋💋💋💋

The next day, inside the bedroom of a penthouse in an elite neighborhood, outfits were scattered on the floor.

“Uurgh,” Victoria groaned as she woke up with a headache. She saw her phone showing 12 p.m. Shit. She was late for the office.

She pushed away the hand, hugging her waist. “Get up.”

After the humiliation at the party, she called her friends and went wild at the club, bringing home her friend with benefits. He didn't look as good as Bucky, but at least this guy could eliminate her loneliness.

‘Ring.’

“What?” she answered the call with a raspy voice.

“Why didn’t you pick up your phone? Don’t you know we’re facing a crisis? Come to Valerie. Now!” Genevieve sounded panicked.

Victoria could feel the anxiety. Despite the painful headache, she left the bed and threw on the first outfit she saw.

What had caused her mother to be this scared?

She soon found out the answer when she arrived at the company.

You were inside her office, walking back and forth while looking at a sketchbook.

Victoria stormed into her office. “What are you doing in my office?”

You smirked, letting out a small chuckle. “Didn’t you hear? I own 40% of Valerie's shares. That gives me the freedom to go wherever I want.”

Victoria gasped. How? How could you, who had no money, worked as a teacher, and had a limited budget for your grandmother’s medicine, acquire so much money to buy 40% of the shares?

The alcohol from last night clouded her judgment. She should’ve known the answer. It was all because of Bucky.

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[deliciousangelfestival]

Tears In His Ferrari || Chp 7

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Theme: Fluff, Slice of Life, Heart-Warming.

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Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 , Chp 8 , Chp 9 , Chp 10 , Chp 11 , Chp 12.

As harvesting season arrived, the farm became a bustling hive of activity. Y/N took it upon herself to teach Bucky how to harvest various crops—barley, potatoes, and corn. Bucky, unfamiliar with the manual labor involved, struggled under Y/N's watchful eye.

Y/N, with her deep understanding of farming, didn't hold back. She pushed Bucky to his limits, demonstrating the relentless nature of the work.

Bucky swung the sickle in an awkward arc, nearly tripping over a clump of harvested barley. Y/N, standing nearby, couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Easy there, Bucky. The crops are the enemies, not your feet."

Bucky shot her a mock glare. "Well, someone needs to tell these crops that I'm in charge now."

Y/N smirked, "I think the crops are winning this battle." She gestured towards a particularly rebellious potato that had rolled away from Bucky. "That one looks like it's staging a great escape."

Bucky lunged after the rogue potato, and in his pursuit, he accidentally knocked over a pile of harvested corn. Y/N raised an eyebrow, "Careful, Bucky. We're not going for crop domination here."

Bucky huffed, "Who knew vegetables could be so cunning?"

Y/N teased, "You've never been outsmarted by a carrot before?"

Now attempting to corral the runaway potato, Bucky grinned, "Not until today, apparently."

Together, they loaded the truck with the harvested crops, and Y/N took Bucky to the factory to sell his produce.

Bucky, gazing at the neatly packed crates, felt a mix of accomplishment and sadness. "I can't believe I did this," he muttered, pride evident in his voice.

Y/N, steering the truck, acknowledged, "You've come a long way. But remember, this is just the beginning."

Arriving at the factory, Bucky's excitement was tempered by the impending debt repayment. "It's hard seeing the money go as quickly as it comes," he confessed.

Y/N, empathizing with his concerns, added, "Farm life is a constant juggle. It's not just about growing crops; it's managing the business too."

Seeing the exhaustion on Bucky's face, Y/N decided it was time for a break. Wanting to lift his spirits, she proposed, "How about we take a break from farming? I'll teach you how to ride Alpine. It's a good skill for handling the cows and sheep."

Bucky, eager for a change of pace, agreed. "Sure, I've ridden horses before, but handling other animals seems like a different ball game."

Y/N smirked, "Well, let's make it interesting. How about a little race? You and me."

Bucky's eyes lit up with excitement. "Now, that's something I can get behind. You're on!"

Then both of them heard a female voice "Bucky."

Both of them turn around. Bucky shock seeing his crush Kate is standing behind the gate.

Kate, the supermodel, stood at the gate, casting an unexpected shadow on the carefree atmosphere of the race. Bucky's initial thrill turned into visible tension as he hastily fixed his hair and adjusted his clothes.

Y/N, sensing the shift in mood, couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation at Bucky's sudden self-consciousness.

Feeling a surge of discomfort, Y/N excused herself, leaving Bucky to face Kate on his own. As she walked away, she couldn't shake the inexplicable irritation bubbling within her.

Kate's charming smile, as she approached Bucky, masked the intricate calculations whirring in her mind. She had been privy to Bucky's infatuation with her before he vanished from the social scene.

Recognizing the potential benefits of a connection with the heir to one of the largest companies in the US, Kate played the game, letting him believe she was unattainable.

However, her carefully laid plans crumbled when Bucky disappeared without a trace. Undeterred, Kate used her resources and connections to track him down, eventually learning about his new life through his friend Steve.

Adjusting her strategy, she decided to cast aside the hard-to-get persona and adopt the role of a supportive friend.

Behind her friendly demeanor and supportive gestures, Kate's mind worked strategically. She aimed not only to rekindle a connection with Bucky but also to seamlessly transition into the role of his girlfriend.

Her calculated moves were a testament to her determination to secure a position in Bucky's life, now that he had resurfaced.

Bucky, taken aback by Kate's unexpected appearance, tried to compose himself. "Oh, hey, Kate. It's been a while, huh?"

Kate, wearing an expression of concern, responded, "Yeah, I was getting a bit worried. You vanished from the scene, and no one knew where you went. Are you okay?"

Bucky, feeling a bit flustered, scratched the back of his head, "Yeah, I'm good. Just needed a break, you know?"

Kate's eyes widened with faux surprise, "A break? I thought something serious happened. Steve made it sound like you went off the grid or something."

Bucky chuckled nervously, "Well, I guess I did, but it's been refreshing. Found a new way of life."

As Kate admired the farm's vast fields and rustic charm, Bucky tried to conceal the fact that this wasn't exactly what Kate had envisioned.

Nevertheless, he maintained a friendly demeanor, "It's a simple life, but it's peaceful. I find it relaxing."

Kate, looking around, hesitated before offering a diplomatic compliment, "Oh, yes, it's... quaint. I can see the appeal of a different pace."

Feeling proud of his newfound lifestyle, Bucky suggested, "Wanna ride Alpine and check out the animals?"

Kate agreed, trying to mask her reluctance. However, her expensive skirt wasn't the most practical choice for a farm adventure. When she realized the potential damage, regret flickered across her face.

Kate gracefully mounted Alpine, trying to maintain her composed demeanor. However, the unfamiliar scent surrounding Bucky caught her off guard.

His essence, now marked by the unmistakable fragrance of sweat and farm work, starkly contrasted to the polished and perfumed Bucky she had known.

As they rode through the fields, Kate discreetly held her breath, attempting to mask her discomfort. The rural aroma infiltrated her senses, making her regret joining Bucky on this rustic adventure.

She couldn't help but long for the lavish events and pristine environments where she and Bucky had previously crossed paths.

Suppressing her unease, Kate smiled and engaged in small talk with Bucky. Deep down, she calculated each word and gesture, determined to leave a lasting impression on the heir to the Barnes empire. Her plan to become the next Mrs. Barnes depended on it.

Amidst the forced smiles, Kate's mind raced. 'This wasn't what I signed up for. I envisioned a glamorous romance, not riding through dirt and sweat. But he's the Barnes heir, and I need to adapt.'

Arriving at Bucky's house, Kate's expectations collide with reality. The modest farmhouse stood as a testament to the simplicity of farm life. She couldn't help but wonder why Bucky, supposedly owning half the land, lived in such humble quarters.

If Bucky turned his head, he might have noticed the subtle surprise on Kate's face, mirroring his initial reaction to the farm.

Bucky, unaware of Kate's inner thoughts, proudly led her towards the house. "Here we are. Welcome to my little haven."

Kate, trying to maintain her composure, forced a smile. "It's... quaint."

Bucky, catching a glimpse of her expression, hesitated for a moment but quickly brushed it off. "Yeah, it's not the Ritz-Carlton, but it has its charm."

As they entered the house, Kate continued to assess her surroundings, her city-girl expectations clashing with the rural reality. Still excited to show her around, Bucky remained oblivious to Kate's growing disappointment.

Y/N, engrossed in her tasks, huffed as she distributed hay to her horse. Toby, stopping by with honey from his grandparents, handed it to Y/N, who promptly thanked him and handed over the payment.

Toby, curious, mentioned seeing Bucky with a famous model named Kate Hasting. Y/N, unfamiliar with Kate due to her lack of social media presence, tilted her head in confusion. Toby, enthusiastic, informed her about Kate's status as an 'It girl.'

Y/N, intrigued, stopped her work and focused on Toby. "Hasting?" she queried, contemplating the revelation.

Toby nodded, "Yeah, that's the one."

"Hmm, interesting," Y/N murmured, her curiosity piqued.

Noticing Y/N's interest, Toby continued, "Yeah, she's a big deal on social media right now."

Y/N, still puzzled, questioned, "Why is she looking for Bucky?"

Toby shrugged, "No idea. Maybe she likes him or something."

Y/N, maintaining her nonchalant demeanor, Y/N responded, "Well, that's his business, not mine."

Toby chuckled, "True, but it's kinda exciting, don't you think? The city coming to our little farm."

Y/N smirked, "Exciting or not, I've got work to do. Thanks for the honey, Toby."

Toby waved as he left, leaving Y/N to ponder the unexpected arrival of a city celebrity to their rural haven.

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