#whrites on ground

[dogblight]

I do not want to go to the doctor tomorrow.

[blueberrylemontea-fanfic]

Jump Scare [2/2]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Part 1 

Warnings: Smut, this one’s basically just smut, the next part also has something resembling a storyline. Unprotected sex, you know what they say, DON’T

Summary: Reader is Stark’s daughter, when Bucky accidentaly scares her while reading a scary book, the night turns into something more. Overprotective dad!Tony at the end, some seriously sappy shit, you have been warned.

Enjoy!!

"On the floor" You said after catching your breath. He looked taken aback, not sure if he'd heard you right. 

"I said on the floor, soldier. Now" 

Bucky looked more excited than a baby pup when he gently put you down and dropped to the floor. You straddled him slowly, making sure not to touch him yet. 

"It's my turn now, Barnes. You will do as I say, understood?" 

He nodded, licking his lips. 

"Words, Barnes" you snapped. 

"Yes ma'am" He saluted. 

"Good boy" you purred while lightly stroking his side with your fingertips, making him shiver. He raised his hands to touch you, but you slapped them away. 

"There will be no touching unless I tell you to. Are we clear?" "Yes ma'am" He licked his lips again. "Good boy" You took his cock in your hand and pumped it slowly, making Bucky squirm under you. He was smirking giddily as you lined him up with your entrance. 

“You ready, soldier?” He nodded eagerly, “Yes, ma’am” You lowered yourself onto him slowly, making him rumble lowly. “Fuck, Y/N”, he breathed hoarsely, straining himself not to touch you.

 You started sliding up and down his cock slowly, loving how Bucky was whriting under you. You picked up the pace and Bucky threw his head back in pleasure. He was enjoying this beyond measure. He loved how you teased him, how you controlled him. 

You were riding him fast and hard now, loving the feel of him filling you up over and over again. He moaned every time you touched him, and God, did those moans sound divine. You changed your angel, pushing your chest flush against his so that you could kiss and bite at his neck. 

“Fuck, doll”, he croaked. “Please let me touch you, I’m begging you, please.” 

And there it was, what you’d wanted to hear all along. You had the famous Winter Soldier begging for you, you’d never felt more powerful. 

“Hands on my hips” you whispered, and you could see his face lighten with relief. “Thank you, doll” he smiled as he grabbed your hips, his fingers kneading your skin. “Fuck, you feel so nice” he hissed. “Doll, I’m getting close”, he moaned. You pressed your lips to his. 

“Good”, you smirked. You pushed yourself back up and rode him like your life depended on it. You were getting closer to another orgasm too.

“Touch me, Buck”, you moaned. 

The sparkle in his eyes made you weak in the knees. His hands were all over you in a fraction of a second. “Oh, thank God, you’re so soft. So perfect. My perfect little doll. Fuck, you feel amazing.” His words were pushing you to the edge and you knew you were going to spill over it soon. 

“Bucky, I’m so close”, you breathed out.

“Me too, doll. Me too.” He grabbed your waist again and thrust his hips up into you while you pushed down on him. He kept thrusting into you as you rode him, hitting all the right spots. You could feel your walls tightening around him as your orgasm rolled over you. 

You moaned and let your head fall back. “Fucking hell, Bucky”, you cursed under your breath. You looked back down at Bucky to see that his eyes were starting to roll back in his head. His metal hand was tangled in the sheets, pushing down on the bed hard. 

“Cum for me Bucky”, you moaned in his ear as you ground down on him. ��Let go” His legs were trembling as he shot his load into you. “Fuck, Y/N!” he yelled out, “Fuck.” He was shaking, and his breath was trembling. He pulled you to his chest and kissed you passionately, then he let his head fall back to the floor. 

“You’re amazing”, he groaned.

You slowly lifted yourself off of him and let yourself drop on the floor next to him. He immediately wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close. You snuggled close to him. He kissed the top of your head. 

“I’ve been dreaming of that for a long time, you know that?” “Me too, Buck” He kissed you again. “I hate to make assumptions, doll, but can I please assume we’re doing this again sometime?” You chuckled. “Hell yeah we are” 

“Good”, he bit his lip softly. “I really like you, Y/N. You know that, right?” “I like you too, Buck”, you leaned in to kiss him once again. When you pulled back Bucky couldn’t help but let out a yawn. "Go to bed, Buck, I'm gonna crash on the couch tonight" You kissed the tip of his nose lazily. 

"Are you sure, doll? You can sleep with me if you want" 

"Tempting, but risky. We wouldn't want the others constantly on our backs, now would we?" He kissed you again. "I hate it when you're right" He kissed you one last time before begrudgingly letting her go. 

"Well goodnight, doll. Sweet dreams" "Sweet dreams, Buck, see you tomorrow" He walked back to his room and you settled in on the couch, falling asleep almost immediately. 

You were awoken by soft murmuring behind you. When you turned over you were flustered to see that nearly all the avengers were already up and having breakfast at the table behind you. You should've gone to bed, you thought to yourself. 

"Morning guys", you sounded groggy, you never were one for mornings. When they all greeted you, you noticed that the only one missing was your dad. Nothing unusual about that, he had never been a morning person either. Your eyes caught Bucky's from across the room and you couldn't supress a light blush when he winked at you. 

"What was that?" Natasha threw an inquisitive look from Bucky to you and back. "What was what?" You were trying to sound cavalier, but even you noticed that you'd failed miserably. 

"That look" Nat was blatantly grinning by now. God, you hated her perceptive skills. 

"What look, there was no look. What are you talking about?" 

"Oh, there was a look, alright", Clint chimed in. 

"Shut up, Clint!" Your voice sounded at least half an octave higher than usual. 

By now everyone's eyes were focused on you. It was too early for this, you thought. You didn't know how to talk your way out this at this ungodly hour. What could you do? You tried to look to Bucky for help. Wrong move. 

"Oh my God, you two slept together!", Wanda yelled happily. You were at a complete loss for words. How did she figure it out this quickly? Were they really that obvious? 

"Well?", Rhodey asked expectantly. "Did you?" They were all staring at you with glee, enjoying every second of this spectacle. You looked back at Bucky, thinking maybe he could still fix this, but instead he broke into a massive grin. 

"Yes, it's true. Y/N and I slept together" They all erupted into catcalls while Bucky and I just stood there blushing.

"You what?!" 

In a second the room was dead quiet. 

"Dad! I... I can explain", you started, but he wasn't listening to you. He went straight for Bucky who slowly started to back away.

"How dare you?" Tony yelled. 

"How dare you put your hands on my daughter? After everything that's happened? After I finally started to trust you? How fucking dare you do this to me, Barnes?" 

"Look, Tony," Bucky began but Tony cut him off. 

"Don't you 'look Tony' me, you bastard!" Bucky flinched at the insult, he'd worked so hard for Tony's trust, for a beginning friendship even, and now here they were again. You noticed that the other Avengers were closing in on the two, ready to hold them back if needed. 

"Tony, please..." Bucky had stopped backing away, ready to take any punches your dad was gonna throw at him. Tony's blood was boiling by now, he was angrier than you had ever seen him, and he was closing in on Bucky. 

"Shut up, Barnes! Get the fuck out of my sight before I kill you! Defiling my daughter, how fucking dare you take advantage of her like that?" 

"Enough!" you screamed and jumped between the pair before your dad could throw his first punch. 

"Y/N, get out of my way!" 

"He's right, doll, if it were the other way around I'd want to kill me too" She spun round to face Bucky. "First of all, I'm not stepping aside and second, you have not 'wronged' him, okay? You haven't done anything wrong." you squeezed Bucky's hand softly, reassuring him that what happened wasn't a mistake. 

"Like hell he hasn't! Now get out of my way!" 

You turned back towards Tony, hand on your hip. 

"Dad, listen... " 

"Y/N!" 

"No, dad! Listen to me. I get that you're upset, okay? And I understand that this is far from pleasant for you, but Bucky did nothing wrong." You silenced Tony's snort. God, even when he was angry he was sarcastic... "He didn't, dad. He didn't ‘defile’ me, and he certainly didn't take advantage of me, okay? Everything he did, I wanted him to. I know that's not something you want to hear, but it's true. I came on to him. He did not do or make me do anything that I wasn't up for. So, if you're gonna be mad, be mad at me." 

You could tell that Tony was noticeably less angry and you'd known him long enough to know that behind his anger was a lot of fear. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. "I know that this scares you, and I know that you think he's going to hurt me, but I can handle myself." He looked away to mask his watery eyes.

"Dad, look at me", you said softly "I can handle myself. I know you're always going to protect me, but I don't need to be protected from him. Bucky's not going to hurt me, and he's not going to break my heart. And look around you, if God forbid he does ever misbehave, you're gonna have to get in line to kick his ass." The other Avengers chuckled and even Tony couldn't argue with that. 

He wiped his eye with the back of his hand. "I just want you to be safe." "I know dad, and I will be. I trust him, I really do. I know that as my dad it's hard for you to trust him, so I'm not asking you to. Not yet, at least. So, for the time being, I'm only asking you to trust me. Do you trust me?" He pulled you into his arms "Of course I do, pumpkin" You hugged him back tightly "Thanks, dad." 

When you pulled away, the others were all staring at you in awe. Sam was the first to break the silence, "Well, that was better than anything on Netflix" 

"If you want something better than Netflix, I'd suggest last night's security tape." 

Nat's comment was met by some guffaws as well as some horrified stares, especially from the man next to you. "I think I'm gonna be sick" You chuckled at him "Yeah, dad, I would definitely not recommend you watch that" "Please, stop talking! I do not want to know! I agreed to trust you, I will not agree to hear about your sexual exploits!" You gagged "Okay, subject change, this is getting out of control." 

Bucky spoke up for the first time in almost five minutes, "Tony, I..." "It's okay, Barnes. I shouldn't have come at you. Just, treat her right, okay?" "I will, sir." His typical 40's charm made you weak in the knees. 

"So, we're good?" Bucky held out his hand and Tony took it. "We're good.” 

Then he turned to you, “Did you mean that?” he whispered. “About trusting me? Because I’d understand if you don’t, after everything I’ve done…” “Bucky”, You caressed his cheek lightly, “I meant every word of it. What they made you do as the Winter Soldier, that’s not who you are, Buck. That’s not the person standing here in front of me. I trust you, Bucky, a hundred percent.” He smiled.

“Thank you, Y/N”

 “Anytime, soldier”

[silvanamtsvaz]

Confira esta postagem… "Until God".

This one whrited about what i feel like right now and right here is just one more thing by my thinks by little girl living with God this bad way with your good helping hand, right? Goodbye and have fun! See you later, haters! Good work week! 😌🤓🤬🙀🙈🙉🙊❤💛💜💙💚🧡🤍🖤🤎🙏✍🤳🧠👀👁👂👌👍☝️🖕👊🤏👆🤚👋👆

[cutemoniic]

  When you engage Wrath into an hike to distract his mind from uneasiness and doubt, you sweetly took his hand in yours and proposed a long walk: more than a walk, a long, long path descending into rocks, helped by your wings while you make small talks.

  You have seen his uncertaintness, and are now reacting accordingly. For many times he has been a rock at your side, and when he expresses vulnerability you gave him a piece of your mind and asserted that he's strong -- and definitely in control of anything he decided to grab onto. You showed him comfort, understanding and let him lean on you, shielded you with a warm embrace and motivation through words. And what better way to help him if not for exploration, something to take off his mind from heavy destinies?

  You leave his hand to shoot him a reassuring smile, back straighten as your wings sprout out to carry you both on the lower path of the sideroad: you haven't been there yet, and you give him an hopeful smile and tug him along with you, informing him to be careful of graves getting stuck under his feet... not that you particulary care about yours, since they have safely adapted many millennias ago. You're just careful about him and how he feels, too distracted to look at him to see the danger coming.

  Maybe he notices, but doesn't think of it as a big deal until you're surrounded.

  The lurid capes they're wearing don't do much to hide their angelic feathers, white and fluffed, dirty with red sand. They wordlessly drag holy daggers -- spears, knives, even a glowing bow -- out of their robes, directing them at your throat. While they only trade glares to the archdemon standing at your side, he does more than just raise his eyebrows.

  No, he directly attacks them with a dash and inhuman speed: you let out a startled scream for him to stop, that the situation is solvable -- only to be met with a sudden grip on many hands constricting your arms behind your back, muscles tensing as your companion is too busy reaping and crushing angel's head.

  The being with a white pure mask draws close to you, glowing dagger in hand as they sink it into your chest -- or would have, if you didn't moved and struggled enough to dive it elsewhere. It cuts you just above your collarbone instead, and it's far more bearable than a stab right in the heart. And in the small pause when they load the dagger again, you feel frustrated.

  You attempted to negotiate, and they're still holding you hostage and attacking you. You're stressed -- true, you were taking care of Wrath and it turned into a suicidal expediction into the arms of the enemy. Your memory has still holes in them, you've begun to grow stale with your development as a queen of hell, you never do anything right -- and you will be killed, right now. You even grow tense as the blade approaches, picturing the stinging and numbness of the flesh splitting.

  You had a stressful week. People came at you from all angles, attacking and taking back the 'respect' they had for you since you stood up to your memoriless self. People betrayed, people left and insulted, and you could just stand and watch as it happened. And as the ultimate retribution, you're going to be severely injured with a manifactured, enchanted blade because you failed to notice the threat. It's infuriating -- anxiety inducing, actually, that it was so easy to sneak past your ralled guard. More angering than anything else, a weird, new feeling bubbling up in your throat like... acid reflux? Something burning, splashing inside you like water. You try to focus on it...

  Then time stops.

  For a moment, something is choking you out, your windpipe crushed in the middle of a scalding, tightening hot collar: your hands break free of the hold to claw desperately at it, unable to suck in desperate air -- the second after, your mouth opens with a blood-curling wail, and suddendly you're on the ground on all fours. The hands that were restraining you lifts off their grasp to turn into melted flesh, the rest of their limbs popping like balloons under the impressive and sudden heat radiating off your person. They don't even have time to scream, and the one in front of you screams for the sudden disfiguring burns you give them.

  Then you can't feel the warm dirt between your fingers, and there's soft flesh instead: you squash it by instinct, the scream of thrashing pain you caused ringing in your ear like a deflagrating grenade.

  You're whriting too. Then you're not anymore, gliding across the battlefield with chirurgical precision to spread your verb at full hands.

  Your aura is hallucination-inducing: the angels see you on the floor, subdued to the extremely strong power you're emanating, a moment, then find their end the next one, blinded by the light pooling out of your eyes, and down your cheeks like tears of something holy and untold. Your maw opens on their body parts, melted flesh dangling from the corner of your upper lip like a terrifyingly ancient creature.

  Your hands meet soft flesh of a pair of arms, and grip them apart with brutal force: the body follows, the anguished screaming of the mauled being and yours mix together in a terrifying cacophony.

  You can't feel a good portion of your body, including your upper-head and your face, arms and legs -- but you know that it's all worth it. This is you. Even if you feel your face crack under the pressure, it’s you.

  This has always been just you.

  For a moment, it fills Hell. You feel the ground rise to accommodate your hazed, confusing movements and your body hurling itself at the enemy, lava threatening to spill from the cracks that open to swallow their bodies. Hell is you -- it accompanies, helps, shift into a weapon for you to use.

  It's mayhem. It's gunpowder and the scent and taste of blood, it's the blinding essence pouring out of the cracks of your face, your cracked cheek and pieces of your own skin floating around your head.

  It's teeth digging into holy flesh and tearing it apart. It's corpses on the ground, scattered like sheathed feathers. The pulsating heat of the halo around your neck and the maddening waves of power it releases at every pulse of your heart. It's the way you jump and land on them and make their bodies deflagrate with the sole power of the impact, the way the earth cracks underneath your feet.

  Then, there's the sudden halt.

  No noises. No more screams, nothing else if not the aftermath of a battlefield.

  You're supposed to feel something, you're sure of it. But the costant buzzing of lights playing cat and mouse in your brain doesn't help, and when you press an hand on your face you can feel part of your cheek missing.

  And that something you're supposed to feel isn't the loss of softness, the loss of compassion dripping down your cheeks and chin with the holy light.

  You're not mourning. You're surprisingly tranquil, standing in the middle of the field with a smeared blood handprint on your face as it seeps into your wound, mixes with your liquids. You don't feel anything except for satisfaction.

  Then, it hits you.

  You're made for this. You are a weapon of mass destruction, the most powerful being in your universe -- someone invincible, immortal, immoral; someone filthy and coy to play anyone that you want to, someone in command.

  Someone in control.

  Your mouth opens, a faint light pulsing through the roof of your mouth, and you release a deranged, crazed laughter and let it tear your throat apart as you stand among the chaos you created.

  You were made for this.

  And you're on the loose, and as you could see, nobody is stopping you anytime soon.