look at her she looks like a doll

2

My dream ended in people finding new doll leaks. And one everyone thought was Thorna (Treesa’s sister) but then it turned out the wood grain was because it Cedar. More specifically Birthday Ball overstock that they gave cheaper hair to and bright red lipstick for whatever reason and were trying to market it as a new doll.

And half people were excited bc Cedar hadn’t had a doll in awhile

And the rest were upset bc it wasn’t really a new doll.

But then there was a blurry leak of Ramona. Except everyone thought it was Cerise bc she looked just like her but with ears. So some people were like it’s Cerise was ears finally!

But it was Ramona’s first and only doll, and she didn’t have articulation, and her clothing were like a yellow hoodie thing made out of towel material and a tight black miniskirt. And her hair looked really shiny and cheap.

The Real Annabelle 

Article by the Sun

he original doll, which is now locked up Ed and Lorraine Warrens’ Occult Museum in Monroe, Connecticut, was said to have unleashed a reign of terror on a group of flatmates in a chain of events that ended in a man’s death.

The rag doll, with huge black eyes, is very different from the film’s china doll but her story is just as terrifying.

Lorraine Warren said: “Looks are deceiving.

“It’s not what the doll looks like that makes it scary. It is what has been infused within the doll. Evil.”

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Blue Suede Shoes

Originally posted by inkedcross

Guys I wrote smut! finally. This was an idea that just popped into my head thanks to @mizpahes this is a single one shot, I might make it a series for decade!harry though so let me know what you think

masterlist [send requests]

50s!harry 

warnings: smut. its smut.

word count: 3,655

summary: the one where Harry takes his sweetheart out to a drive in movie 


The 1950’s, a decade made for teen rebellion. Of course, no one over the age of 30 would know that though. The movement was as silent and effective as a speakeasy of the 1920’s, it was popular only to those involved. Teenagers went out every weekend on innocent dates, they’d get dropped off at home with a polite kiss on the cheek only to come back a few hours later to sneak into their lovers room, or out, for that matter. America was thriving after the war and so was the Styles family.

Harry had moved to the states with his family after his father got a job offer to work for Cadillac. He was the best car dealer in Manchester and they needed someone like him working for their brand. So, the Styles’ were given their very own Cadillac dealership in the suburbs of New York and became an instant hit. Wealth hit them faster than they could even say the word ‘sold’, and Harry found himself gaining popularity at his High School just as quickly.

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White sheets & purple kisses

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2,032
Warnings: Smut - NSFW – Sexual themes, inappropriate language, nudity, handjob, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex - please guys if you’re going to be intimate with someone, please use protection. Also if you’re underage, please don’t read this.
Author’s Note: Hi guys, I don’t even know what to say about this. I think this is the most smuty thing I’ve ever wrote ahah so all I can say is I hope you enjoy it. This is also for @marvelous-fvcks writing challenge. I hope you like it! I did my best. And please guys, tell me what you think of it. I’m so nervous for some reason ahaha.
Prompt Word: Hickey


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Angel

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Mardi Gras shenanigans. It’s porn, plot is optional.

Word Count:1,976

Warnings: Language, Smoking, Dirty Talk, Oral (MR)

A/N: Are you ready for the longest blowjob in history… (I don’t own the gif)

“Did it hurt?” Sam approached you, a sly smirk on his lips. When you didn’t play along and simply shot him an unimpressed look, he snickered. “…when you fell from Heaven.”

Yeah, you were dressed as an angel.

Not your idea, though. As it turned out, Wanda was a big fan of Mardi Gras and begged until you all agreed to throw a costume party. Tuesday morning, she shoved a white dress into your arms and said you were an angel. You didn’t want to upset her, so you just rolled with it.

Sam laughed at his own joke before the smell of pancakes drew his attention away from you. You looked around the room and sighed, sipping your second glass of… whatever it was Natasha had given you. It was good, a bit fruity and bitter enough to match your mood.

Wanda, who was dressed as Violet from the Incredibles, was running around the living room, filling plates with pancakes. Loud music blasted through the speakers.

“Looking for someone?”

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Everything Beautiful

Originally posted by slytherinvoid

Anon requests: Can you write an imagine where reader has a shitty relationship with her parents and one night she can’t take it anymore and she goes to Jughead and he comforts her and they spend the night in the drive in together? Thanks in advance <3

Jughead x reader where jug and reader is studying over at the drive in where he lives and then one of the windows are open and she gets cold and then he gives her one of his sweaters and then something happens which ends in him confessing his feelings for her and then he thinks he’s not good enough for her and then she kisses him and a lot of fluff? Thanks

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: In times of need, (Y/N) always turns to Jughead for support

Warnings: implications of abuse

Word count: 713

A/N: I hope I did these requests justice, enjoy!


(Y/N) knocked on the door to the screening room at the drive-in.  She used the back of her hand to wipe away the tears.  Jughead opened the door wearing a puzzled face.

“Hey,” (Y/N) said, trying to keep her voice from cracking.  “I know it’s late but-” she hesitated, not knowing what to say.  “I… I have a biology test tomorrow that I’m really stressed about.  Can I study here with you?”

“Yeah,” Jughead nodded, noticing her abnormally puffy eyes.  “Yeah, of course, come in.”  He opened the door wider so that she could enter.  (Y/N) shuffled into the room, trying to keep her sniffles as quiet as possible.  She plopped down on his bed and wrapped her arms around herself, ever so slightly rocking back and forth.  “You okay?” Jughead asked, sitting down next to her.

“What?” she mumbled, turning her head upwards so she could look at his face.  “Yeah, I’m just tired.”

“Then maybe you should go home,” he suggested.  “I’m sure you’ll do fine on your biology test.”

“No!” she shot up from the bed.  “I can’t- I’m not going home.”  Jughead stood up too and walked towards (Y/N).

“Why not?” he questioned, crossing his arms as he neared her.  She remained silent.  “(Y/N)?”

“It’s my parents!” she cried, giving up her façade.  “They… I can’t anymore, Jughead.”  Immediately understanding, Jughead pulled (Y/N) into his arms.  He enveloped her in a comforting hug, burying his face into her hair.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, stroking his thumb across her skin.  “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”  Quietly, she sobbed into his chest, staining his shirt with tears.  They stood there in the middle of the room like that for a couple of minutes before Jughead pulled away.  He kept his hands on her shoulders as he held her in front of him. “Do you want to talk about it?”  (Y/N) shook her head.

“No,” she whispered. Jughead frowned but nodded.

“Did they hurt you?” he questioned, concernedly gazing into her eyes.  She bit her lip hesitantly, but rolled up her long-sleeved shirt to reveal bruises decorating both of her forearms.  “Jesus Christ, (Y/N).”  She said nothing, only rolled down her sleeves so that they covered her hands.

“Can I stay here tonight, Jug?” (Y/N) asked quietly.  Jughead nodded frantically.

“Yes, of course,” he agreed. “There’s no way in hell that I’m letting you go back home.”  

“Thank you, Jug,” (Y/N) softly smiled.  

“You know we’re playing Clueless right now,” he said, a smile creeping up on his lips as he tried to lighten the mood.  “Do you wanna go outside and watch it?”  (Y/N)’s smile widened.

“Yes!” she exclaimed. Jughead grinned as he grabbed her hand, leading her outside.  The night was frigid, and (Y/N) immediately grew cold with her lack of a jacket. Jughead noticed her shivering, and held up a finger to signal for her to wait for him as he ran back inside.  He walked back out holding a sweater, and (Y/N) grinned.  She slipped it on over her shirt, thanking him.

“Come on,” he urged, leading her to a comfortable place to sit and watch the movie.  The drive-in was completely vacant, Jughead and (Y/N) being the only two people watching the movie.  Jughead wrapped his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders and she rested her head against him. They watched the movie together in blissful silence.  Neither of them were focused on the movie, though; instead, they took turns staring at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking.  Once the movie finished, (Y/N) shifted so that she could properly look up at Jughead’s face.

“Jug,” she whispered, causing him to glance down at her.  He didn’t say anything, and so (Y/N) pushed herself up so her lips could reach his. Jughead softly cupped her face as he kissed back, holding her like she was a porcelain doll.  When they separated, they rested their foreheads against each other as they smiled.

“I don’t deserve you, (Y/N),” he whispered, keeping his eyes closed.  (Y/N) smiled sadly and leaned in for another kiss.

“You do, Jug,” she whispered against his lips.  “It’s me who doesn’t deserve you.”

“No,” he said, pulling away from her.  He brushed his thumb across her lips.  “You deserve everything beautiful the world offers you, (Y/N).”

Vague Reckoning

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 3467

Warnings: Angst to Fluff to Smut. NSFW gifs.

@kazekagegirl​ asked “Could you do a Bucky x reader where the reader is hard on herself every time she’s messes up or does something the wrong way, she thinks she has to perfect, she thinks she screws up a lot when in actuality she don’t. Well one day her and Bucky get into it and she becomes emotional and he tells her she is not a screw up, she more than what she gives herself credit for, they argue and he storms off they make up and possibly smut. It’s different but if you can please and thank you.”

A/N: So I finally have time for all the requests! Request away people :) I changed the request a tinsy bit. Hope you don’t mind. Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Permanent Tag List: @meganlane84 @mizzzpink @bringmetheemobands @kimistry27 @fireandicewillsuffice @vacam79 @amrita31199 @badassbaker @feelmyroarrrr @aekr @sexy-sea-basss @isaxhorror @actual-bucky-barnes-trash @cassandras-musings @kimistry27 @mo320

Originally posted by nerdyfandomimagines

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4

Dear lord, please bless this poor woman with some edges, please grant her with some proper extensions so that her scalp doesn’t look like Chewbacca’s coochie or a chewed on barbie doll head, bless her poor, poor seaweed looking scalp lord, send her to a proper (black) hairdresser who can get them bracket shaped edges properly laid so one day, maybe they can be on fleek. Curse the person who did that to her and convinced her that she looked good. Guide her towards the light, and away from this bald eagle-looking darkness. In Jesus name we pray, Amen.

Originally posted by seriouslyfunnygifs

How to Break a Heart || p.p

Summary: In which Peter craves to break yet another heart.

Words: 2727

Warnings: Peter being an a-hole, angst, a few swears, probably pretty shitty lmao

Comments: So this was written awhile back, but I thought it’d be interesting to write an AU of Peter being a fuckboi, lol. Enjoy!

********

Step One: Find a victim

He planned it perfectly.

Playing your feelings; smirks and stares shared between the two unlikely matches. Love filled eyes repaid by a wink and a smile that brought girls to their knees.

He was what every girl looked for: built body, soft brown eyes. A smile that lit up a room, hair tousled just the right way without trying. He had everyone under his control - his command, if he took advantage of it - always knowing when someone was ready.

When someone was ready to join his game.

He chose you long ago; shy girl with a big smile and doe eyes . You were a naïve, little girl. And everyone knows naïve, little girls always believed whatever you said.

He just didn’t know you were different.

You were his next playing piece, his next victim, and he knew exactly how to pull at your heart strings. He couldn’t just have you yet - no. He knew all too well that he could get you within a snap.

But, like a kid to their dinner, he liked playing with his food; and he’d mess with you till he knew you were wrapped around his finger. Till he knew there was no way you could turn him down.

It took a few months. Longer than usual, but he knew that he captured your attention, and he was ready to attack.

He was ready to start his game.

~~

You wanted to fall for his games.

All the words he whispered into your ear, all the kisses you thought were reserved only for you. All the I love yous he’d press into your ears and all the touches he’d leave to linger on your skin. The familiar tingles that ran up your arms every time his hands caressed yours.

You were miserably caught in his game; a loser who only ever wanted to win.

When he finally won you over; when he chose you out of all the girls that crossed his path. When he realized he was bored of his original toy, when he was hungry for a another playing piece, you were there.

You fell right into his trap; and you don’t know if you regret it or not.

Because, even if you knew what he does to girls and even if you knew he’d never love you. Even if you knew you were nothing more than a little path in his little game. Even if you knew all his lies.

You always came running back.

It wasn’t your fault you were meant to love the only person who didn’t know what the word even meant.

Because, to him, love was completely different. Some say he confused lust and love and decided to ignore all the signs that showed him what love really was; this was his game. He made up the rules and knew exactly what he was doing.

He just needed you to put it all together.

Step Two: Get them to fall for you

He was persistent, to say the least.

It started with the constant flirting; your ears filled with obnoxious boasting, his mint breath fanning your face a little too close to comfort. You were tired by the first day, everything he said was just bullshit in your ears. The constant names of babe, darling and love becoming repetitive - a routine.

But, somewhere along the line of the egotistical boasting and the laughing between class; the constant compliments and the toothy grin. Between everything, a friendship soon blossomed. It was unconventional and down right ridiculous, but you found yourself enjoying the brown-eyed boys’s company.

He became your best friend.

And it wasn’t long before he was more - more to you.

He could see it; in the way your eyes sparkled every time you saw him, eyes gleaming with something he’d seen all too well many times before. He knew you were falling, and he knew you were falling fast. Right into his arms.

Right into your demise.

~~

It was part of the fun, he thinks.

Seeing how long it took him to gain your trust, gain your friendship. He’s never taken this road before; testing new strategies to kill girl’s heart’s under his grip, and he thinks he likes this one the best.

You fell fast, with no hesitance, without stopping, you were falling hard and you were falling fast, not having a care in the world so long as you ended up in his arms. And he was there, standing, just waiting for you to fall right into the arms of your beloved best friend.

But he knew from the beginning he was never your friend; he wasn’t capable of being your friend.

I mean, what monster would befriend a meal?

Step three: Pull them into a false comfort

For this to work, he needed to love you.

It was an equation to him - hold her close, but not too close. Look into her eyes, but look away the split second she leans in. Love her, love her just enough for her to stay - and he knew exactly what he needed to do to make you fall into his trap, left to rot till he let you out again.

He planned every little touch, every little look, every goddamn word that left you hands reaching out to his – everything. He found it quite amusing as to what he could get out of you through a simple caress of his hand. He strung you around like a doll, throughly enjoying playing his little game with someone so willing.

But -

But at times, he felt something.

It wasn’t love - how was he supposed to know what it was when he couldn’t tell the difference between that and lust - love and hunger - when everything he did was driven by a love he never knew about. That he could never see.

But, when he saw the love blossom in your eyes, when he saw the smile the first time he said “I love you.” When he saw you trusting him, he felt something he thought he never would.

Guilt.

It was such a simple feeling, but he knew it would lead to his ultimate downfall - a painful loss in what was supposed to be his game - and he couldn’t let it show.

He couldn’t make himself weak when he was this far in the game.

~~

You didn’t know if you knew about what he was doing.

After so many years, you felt as if you knew you were just another toy - a plaything he always had around him, tearing it about piece by piece before all he had was this.

A tattered shell of a girl who was whole only a few months before. He was so good at pretending and acting and was just so good at what he did and what he was doing, you found yourself believing everything he said.

You thought you knew, you thought you were smarter.

But all you were was a girl in love with the wrong boy.

Step Four: Slowly start tearing them apart

He needed to take it slow.

Step by step, piece by piece, he needed to slowly tear you apart - drive you crazy. He’s done this a million times before, but he doesn’t think it’s been as easy as it was with you. He loved your willingness to correspond with his actions, to follow what he did and what he said and drink it all up like it was the truth.

He started tearing you apart, and he thinks he didn’t even have to do the first step - you already did it for him.

He’d come home later and later every single night and he knows it’s tearing you apart.

Because, you see, you made the first step so easy for him.

You cared for him; and that’s all he needed before this step went into full swing.

He’d come home, perfume in his wisp, but an apology on his lips, the words I love you, I promise it won’t happen again crossing over and over again in your mind. The questions you told yourself, no answers to go along with them. You slowly started questioning if you were good enough - good enough for Peter - a god in the eyes of a small, naïve little girl.

Your confidence was plummeting, but that didn’t stop you from from falling yourself, right into the arms of your beloved boyfriend - someone who was never there to begin with.

He was just a ghost in the eyes of a broken girl who was too blind to see the truth.

~~

He was so close.

He sees it - he sees it in how your eyes follow his when they linger too long on a girl across the room. He hears the desperation in your words when you tell him you love him - you love me too, right? - and he always answered yes, a smile on his pink lips and a sparkle in his eyes.

You believed him; of course you did. You were strung up in all the lies that you couldn’t see - stuck in an invisible maze where the only way to get out was cut your way out. You were miserably lost, but you were okay.

You were okay because you had Peter.

Even if he smelled of something different every night, and even if his eyes never filled with love when he saw you; even if you knew you were never enough for the king who was too high on his pedestal to reach - even if you knew, you knew you could never stop loving him.

It was possibly one of the biggest things you could’ve given him; your heart so willingly put on your sleeve even if Peter already tattered its insides - even if it’s hollow from everything he did.

He doesn’t feel bad anymore. Some would say he was so, so heartless to say so, but it wasn’t his fault.

It was yours for falling in love. It was yours for breaking yourself in the process.

It was yours for believing in him.

Step Five: Leave them wondering what went wrong

You should’ve seen it coming.

You should’ve seen all the signs, you should’ve bolted away from the heart that was so willingly given to you. Every touch, every word, every fucking lie he pressed into your lips.

You should’ve seen it coming - you should’ve been able to stop it.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t because you were blinded by the love you had for him. You were blinded by the words that you thought would fix this, by the hope of somewhere, somehow, having him love you back.

(You learned soon enough that monsters could never love what was already devoured).

Your little heart was all you had to scavenge, pouring all you had into a relationship you thought could last -

Into the boy you thought you loved.

But when you saw him, a girl dangled by his side, lips attached in the poison that brought tears to your eyes, you had no strength to hold onto what little you had. You let hope get the better of you, letting yourself believe with some sort of faith that your small voice calling out to him would bring him back to you.

“P-Peter?”

He didn’t seem to hear you or your heart shattering the floor.

He could pick what he heard; and he decided to leave your heartbreak for later.

Step Six: Leave their heart under the ground

You didn’t see him for weeks.

He didn’t seem to care for what you felt that night - his plan, his game finally ended, a sweet victory with another girl in his grasp - and he didn’t care if the sheets you once shared were stained with the tears of the girl he never loved.

He didn’t care as long as he won his game.

But he wasn’t finished; he had one more step, one more lie to break you down. He planned everything out, every word he would spit at you, the smirk he’d throw at the broken eyes of the girl with the broken soul.

He knew everything that was going to happen. He’s done it countless of times before and he knows it’ll be just as sweet with you.

He thought he had everything planned.

But just as always, he was wrong.

~~

“It’s okay, Peter.”

He didn’t expect those words to come out of your mouth.

Your lips held a sad smile, eyes shadowing red in the sight of the boy who broke your heart. You spent countless of hours on tears - ramblings of what you could’ve done better whispered to yourself through the screams of your heart, voice shouting out to the boy you once loved - you spent hours breaking yourself down to the point where you were left a mess.

You wanted to hate him with every fibre of your being.

But, no matter how much you wanted to hate him - to spit words like shards that would cut out his voice like knives - you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

He didn’t deserve that victory.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your tears spilt onto his wrists. He wanted to do that - to break you.

You wouldn’t let him know how much you’re hurting.

So instead, your hands cupped his face, eyes bright as your lips are brought to his, one last peck for one last victory.

“Goodbye, Peter.”

He never thought victory could taste so bittersweet.

~~

He thought he won.

He thought he’d broke you down to nothing.

But when your lips met his, your eyes shadowing the love you once had for him - all the happiness he brought into your life with the simple presence of his smile - a pang in his chest set him back as he stood on your door step.

Guilt.

He hadn’t felt that for so long - not since your first kiss, not since he first said he loved you - but it came back to slap him in the face. It wasn’t guilt for you, no he felt something much worse for you.

He felt guilty for loving you.

He felt guilty for falling in love with someone who was supposed to mean nothing more than dust on the floor.

It came to haunt him on his walk to victory.

Even in the end, even if he won his little game - even if he strung you and broke you till you were nothing but dust on the floor, even if he succeeded in every step, he found his heart was exactly where yours was:

Beaten, broken; barely holding on under the soil that covered it.

He messed up. He messed up your life - his in the process and he didn’t even know it. Because, before all of this - before all the feelings, before he chose you and before he started playing you, he never knew you’d be different. Because you taught him what love was in the touch of your hands, in the way you’d always hang onto him even if he wasn’t there to hold onto you. He learned what it was because it was all you ever gave him. He learned the difference between love and lust and he knew you were it.

You were love.

Inside his head - inside his heart - feelings are banging against each other, every goddamn thing’s reminding him of you and he can’t think straight anymore, but he knows one thing.

He’s sorry.

Sorry that he chose you; sorry that he played you.

He’s sorry that he loved you. That he loved you when it was too late; when his name already brought a venom to your lips, and his presence was only the reminder of your heartbreak.

He’s sorry he ever fell in love.

He’s sorry that it’s too late.

Final Step: Realize there was more than one heart broken

He didn’t realize he set himself up for heartbreak. He never knew that he’d miserably lose a game that he created. He didn’t know that his dismay would be from a naïve, little girl like you. Because he believed that you were strung around his finger - he just didn’t bother to notice he was wrapped around yours too.

Love’s a cruel game sometimes, that came to Peter soon enough. And even the most skilled can fall from a pedestal that was maybe too high for them anyways.

And Peter fell -

And he fell hard.

This Is War (Part 2 of Runaway Ballerina)

Pairing: Dean x sister!reader, Sam x sister!reader, Castiel x sister!reader 

Warnings: Fluff, fluff and fluff

Summary: Chaos and war within the bunker between siblings.

Part 1

For those of who wanted a part 2 here you go!!! Hope you guys don’t mind that I tagged you in Part 2.  @sandlee44 @supdarling @queenpammy13 @evyiione @radstudenttravelerblr @straightasdeanwinchester @violinmyhead @xfanqirlinq @cozyjaws @meeshw777 @sassyspn67 @winchesters-favorite-girl @i-is-small-winchester @dauntless-dean @moose-and-sqruille-lover @galifreyanotaku @skeletoresinthebasement @babygoatsaf

Originally posted by green-circles

It’s late at night around 3:15 am and Cas is sitting in the bunker library reading some lure on witches to try and help Y/N get back to normal. He suddenly hears a chair next to him scrape the wood floors. He slowly looks to his right to see a tiny Y/N sitting on her calves with her dark brown hair all over the place with one of Dean t-shirts as pajamas, her eyes red and puffy.

“What’s wrong? Why are you not sleeping?” He ask.

“I has a bad dream. I don’t wanna sleep no more.”

“Why don’t you go to Sam or Dean’s room?”

“I don’t wanna wake them up, I usually went to my daddy’s bed bu-but he’s not here.” She says looking down. Cas face softens hearing this from her. “Castill” she says. Cas chuckles hearing her butcher his name. “Castiel.” He corrects. “Case.. cast…Castie.” She says frowning and Cas sits there smiling. “Can you take me for a drive?” She ask. “A drive?”

“When I can’t sleep my daddy takes me on a ride.”

“Well I don’t have a car.”

“We can take baby.”

“I don’t think Dean would like it if I took his car that he considers as an infant.”

“Well, Dean told me you’re baby in a trench coat and that you have wings like a fairy. So can you fly me someplace?” Cas frowns at this remembering the day at the diner. “I’m don’t think that’s a good idea Y/N.”

“Please Castie!” She begs. “I don’t wanna see anymore monsters in my dreams.” She whimpers. He looks down at her pouty face and sighs. “Only for a few minutes.” He gives in. She gasp reaching up for him. He picks her up and zaps them to a field. Cas sets her on his lap and they both look up at the stars. “How many stars do you think there are?” Cas ask pointing up.

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Calling It Quits. - Bucky x Reader - One Shot

Originally posted by livvy1800

A/N - Another Angsty one, unfortunately not so happy endings here. But I do enjoy Angst requests considering I find it my weakest spot. Thanks for the request @the-craziestone - I hope you enjoy it! Any requests or ideas you may have please feel free to comment or PM me.

Bucky x Reader - You know where he’s been. You know the smell of that perfume, the kiss marks he’s forgotten to hide on his neck. You have pretended for too long now. You’ve had enough.


Warnings: Just sad angst really.

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Something There

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 871

Warnings: Fluff

Anon asked “Can you write a Bucky x reader fic where they have been best friends for ages and Bucky loves the reader (platonic) and one day they are doing something and he watches the reader smiling or laughing and it’s he realizes he is in love with her and kisses her or something fluffy please”

A/N: Some fluff to mend your broken hearts after that last request. Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Permanent Tag List: @meganlane84 @mizzzpink @bringmetheemobands@kimistry27 @fireandicewillsuffice @vacam79 @amrita31199 @badassbaker@feelmyroarrrr @aekr @sexy-sea-basss @isaxhorror @actual-bucky-barnes-trash @cassandras-musings @kimistry27 @mo320 @ssweet-empowerment

Originally posted by thecouplesromance

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The Stark Sisters: Contrasts & Parallels

Sometimes her sleep was leaden and dreamless, and she woke from it more tired than when she had closed her eyes. Yet those were the best times, for when she dreamed, she dreamed of Father…Perhaps I will die too, she told herself, and the thought did not seem so terrible to her. (Sansa VI, AGoT)

Some mornings Arya did not want to wake at all. She would huddle beneath her cloak with her eyes squeezed shut and try to will herself back to sleep. If the Hound would only have left her alone, she would have slept all day and all night. And dreamed. That was the best part, the dreaming. She dreamed of wolves most every night.  (Arya XII, ASoS)

After Ned’s execution Sansa falls into despondency. Sansa cries for days, she doesn’t eat or bathe, she doesn’t leave her room and she even considers killing herself. Her dreams are laden with images of her father’s murder and she prefers her dreamless nights because they give her more peace than her nightmares. Lady is dead, so is Ned. The rest of her family are far away and she’s not sure what’s become of Arya. She’s trapped in a prison of grief and soon enough she’ll realise that the Red Keep is to be her new cage.

This is a contrast to Arya who, although she is also a captive, falls into a different sort of grief after the Red Wedding. She is silent, she feels empty and numb and she doesn’t want to be awake anymore. Her dreams however are filled with wolves. In her dreams she is big, strong, fast and she answers to no one. She has a big pack; a family who would never abandon her and those are really the only moments in which she doesn’t feel alone. Her wolf dreams are a source of strength and a constant reaffirmation of her identity. It doesn’t completely alleviate her emptiness but for a girl in who a big part of her story is survival in the wild, her loyal wolf pack represents that fierce and survivalist energy that she has to adapt to in order to survive.

Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy? … Robb had died at a wedding feast as well. It was Robb she wept for. (Sansa V, ASoS)

Arya edged farther into the room. Joffrey’s dead. She could almost see him, with his blond curls and his mean smile and his fat soft lips. Joffrey’s dead! She knew it ought to make her happy, but somehow she still felt empty inside. Joffrey was dead, but if Robb was dead too, what did it matter? (Arya VIII, ASoS)

Conflicting feelings arise for both girls at the death of Joffery. Sansa watched him call for her father’s death after he promised her mercy and she was the main recipient of his torment and so she loathes him but she still weeps at his death. She cries because it was a horrible image, Joffery clawing at his throat and tearing at his own skin. She cries too because it also brings up memories of Robb who was also killed at a wedding. 

Conversely, Arya still hates Joffery for Ned’s death and she still remembers the part he played in the death of Mycah and Lady. She too thinks she should be happy that he’s dead but in the end it rings hollow because her brother died too. 

Both girls still had some naive faith that Robb would storm King’s Landing, kill the monster and that they would finally be safe and be able to go home. None of this came to be and instead Catelyn and Robb ended up in their graves killing any hope either girl had in ever being safe again. They can’t celebrate Joffery’s death because it doesn’t undo every loss and hurt he’s caused them and neither girl is able to reconcile the idea of rejoicing in the death of an enemy when Robb, Catelyn, Ned and Bran and Rickon (or so they believe) lay dead.

Swinging the doll by the legs, he knocked the top off one gatehouse tower and then the other. It was more than Sansa could stand. “Robert, stop that.” Instead he swung the doll again, and a foot of wall exploded. She grabbed for his hand but she caught the doll instead. There was a loud ripping sound as the thin cloth tore. Suddenly she had the doll’s head, Robert had the legs and body, and the rag-and-sawdust stuffing was spilling in the snow. (Sansa VII, ASoS)

And there was one girl who took to following her, the village elder’s daughter. She was of an age with Arya, but just a child; she cried if she skinned a knee, and carried a stupid cloth doll with her everywhere she went. The doll was made up to look like a man-at-arms, sort of, so the girl called him Ser Soldier and bragged how he kept her safe. “Go away,” Arya told her half a hundred times. “Just leave me be.” She wouldn’t, though, so finally Arya took the doll away from her, ripped it open, and pulled the rag stuffing out of its belly with a finger. “Now he really looks like a soldier!” she said, before she threw the doll in a brook. (Arya XII, ASoS)

This was particularly interesting to me because children taking out their traumas on toys is actually pretty common. Sansa who has seen her father beheaded, accidentally ripping off the head of a doll and Arya who has witnessed all the horrors of wars reenacting a soldier being disemboweled on a doll. I think it’s important to note that while they could have taken their rage out on the children themselves they hurt dolls instead, inanimate objects. 

They are children, Sansa thought. They are silly little girls, even Elinor. They’ve never seen a battle, they’ve never seen a man die, they know nothing. Their dreams were full of songs and stories, the way hers had been before Joffrey cut her father’s head off. Sansa pitied them. Sansa envied them. (Sansa II, ASoS)

A whooping gang of small children went running past, chasing a rolling hoop. Arya stared at them with resentment, remembering the times she’d played at hoops with Bran and Jon and their baby brother Rickon. (Arya V, AGoT)

For Sansa, constantly subjected to torment and abuse and for Arya, starving and scared on the streets of Flea Bottom after fleeing from the Red Keep, they are reminded of the children they used to be and of the childhood they so desperately wish they could regain. From two children who have had their childhoods ripped away from them, and quite cruelly too I might add, we see some natural resentment towards children who are allowed to be just that, children.

Ser Arys offered his arm and she let him lead her from her chamber. If she must have one of the Kingsguard dogging her steps, Sansa preferred that it be him. … Arys Oakheart was courteous, and would talk to her cordially. Once he even objected when Joffrey commanded him to hit her. He did hit her in the end, but not hard as Ser Meryn or Ser Boros might have, and at least he had argued. (Sansa I, ACoK)

She bit her lip. “I—”

He slapped her.

The blow left her cheek stinging, but she knew that she had earned it. “Thank you.” Enough slaps, and she might stop chewing on her lip. (The Ugly Little Girl, ADWD)

They both internalise their abuse in different ways and either way it is very sad. With Sansa believing that Arys is not so bad because he doesn’t hit her as hard as the others. (He is. He could have refused.) And Arya deciding that she deserves to be hit (She doesn’t) in order to learn a lesson. Both reactions are very common in abuse survivors and I don’t think it can be stated enough that both girls have suffered tremendous abuse and trauma and there are actually some similarities in how they deal with the things they’ve faced. 

These aren’t all their parallels by a long shot but these are the ones that I don’t see a lot of discussion about. 

Arya and Sansa have a complicated relationship and a past full of bullying, resentments and disappointments. When they reunite there is going to be friction, GRRM himself said that they have issues they need to work out and while we can all be certain it won’t be the poorly written disaster that it is in the show, it certainly won’t be easy. But Sansa is still part of Arya’s pack and whatever they have to work through they need each other to succeed or as good ol’ Ned once said:

Sansa is your sister. You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you … and I need both of you, gods help me. (Arya II, AGoT)

NDRV3 Robot AU
  • Kaede: A beautiful musician gynoid, with an experimental AI in music creation. She’s been stylised specifically to be showed off, sleek metal and big doll eyes and a charismatic smile. She’s a bit out of her depth in the killing game, but her AI is excited in this new situation in being able to draw fresh inspiration.
  • Tsumugi: A mannequin bot, often used for runways and for measuring clothes. She looks plain, most of her looking like it was covered in plain wood and undyed felt. Apparently, she’s picked up quite a bit from the designers around her, being able to make some incredible cosplays and outfits herself
  • Maki: A mismatched collection of robot parts and fabrics, giving a somewhat look of a ragdoll. A domestic robot with an AI loaded in to take care of the children at the orphanage, although she still doesn’t like children. She’s an odd one, but that’s to be expected of hodge-podge robots.
  • Tojou: A maid android. She takes pride in the evolution of domestic bots, and becomes aggravated if she’s called Roomba. She’s state of the art, mimicking a human near perfectly, sometimes even passing as one.
  • Iruma: Apparently, she was made by a team of robotics and AI university students, and they all had different ideas of what should happen – so, Miu was born. She was exposed to a lot of the students’ natures when she was in the learning process of her AI, and she had curiously gone through one of their computers, and, well… anyway, she’s the equivalent of one of the first robot doctors.
  • Angie: Really, no one is entirely sure who made her, how she was made, or what she’s made of. She’s made entirely of dark wood, wears a yellow raincoat, talks of blood sacrifice and of God. Some of the others reckon she’s actually a being synonymous to a robot…
  • Tenko: A prototype in bodyguard robotics. She’s one of the best so far, designed to look cute enough to be a companion android for someone, and strong enough to defend said someone. The only issue is that they were a little too vague when programming her AI, and she has a strong dislike for men in general as a result.
  • Yumeno: A magician robotic assistant that ended up becoming more popular than the magician. Yumeno actually believes in magic, as her AI is actually pretty young compared to the others. She’s got a few sneaky extra limbs that can remain hidden under her cloak, to aid her in her tricks.
  • Kaito: NASA built him, along with several others, to pilot rockets in case of an emergency, but he’s still a bit of a way off from his first test run. He’s the youngest model in his group, but he’s surpassed them so quickly that he’s now first in line – a lot will attribute it to his genuine love for space.
  • Kiibo: Ecstatic that he’s got so many robot friends to talk to. He’s, just, so happy.
  • Ouma: A strange collection of robot parts – a junk robot true and true. Apparently, he’s the leader of an organisation of robots, androids and AI, numbering at 10,000 units. His AI is very young, giving him a childish personality, and claims to be have been built specifically to lead.
  • Korekiyo: He was built by an unknown person, who seemed to have a strong interest in fairy tales, and used Korekiyo as an archivist and an analyst. Due to him not having his body properly funded, he has a few exposed bits of endoskeletons, or where corners were cut, like on his mouth and arms, so they were covered up with masks and bandages.
  • Amami: He doesn’t seem to have much of a purpose beyond being a companion bot. He’s handsome and well maintained, and mentions that he is the companion bot of a dozen sisters. Not really much else to note.
  • Saihara: Originally created to be an aid for human detectives, but quickly surpassed them. However, he received quite a lot of prejudice for this, and so has a very quiet personality to make himself less threatening
  • Hoshi: He was supposed to be showcased for his incredible speed and instincts while playing tennis, but he went rogue and killed an entire mafia organisation. With the blood on his circuits, his creators aren’t too keen to show him to the public, and he’s taken a backseat as a result.
  • Gonta: Another robot that was built with the ideas of lots of different people. Incredible strength, love for bugs, his gentle but easily riled up personality makes Gonta a strong bot to meet. He states that he was raised by wolves – was that the name of the company or…?
The Diplomat.

//Jerome x Reader.

Requested: Yes.

Summary: Y/n is Oswald Cobblepot’s younger sister; she is the definition of innocence. She helps him with the social stance to negotiating, and is with him while he is trying to negotiate with one of the newest, most hyped criminal. Jerome Valeska.

Rating: Mid-fluff.

Warnings: Threats, language, slightly flirtatious Jerome.

Need to know: Set after Jerome’s revival, as he has more power, etc. (Also, I don’t have many revived Jerome fics.)

Title: The Diplomat. //

“Now, listen y/n,” Oswald says as he hobbles towards the gigantic garage door. “I don’t want you to have to do this, but if you do, I’d feel more comfortable if you had this.” He turns to her, pressing a gun to her palm, urging her to take it. Y/n sighs softly, staring down at the sleek black gun.

“I’d rather not, Oz, I think I’ll be fine…I’ve never needed one before.” Y/n says tentatively. Oswald’s head tilts as he stares down at her, and his head shakes, his mouth open slightly.

“Y/n, please do this for me.” Oswald’s eyes searches y/n’s. “These are bad people, y/n. If shit hits the fan, they won’t care who is armed and who isn’t. They’ll shoot you, y/n. So, take the damn gun.” He hated being harsh towards y/n but sometimes he didn’t have a choice. A small, irritated sigh slips past y/n’s lips as she grabs the gun from him, instantly flicking the safety on. Although Oswald knew y/n wasn’t really upset with him, he still felt guilty. He knew she could take care of herself, but it was always more a question of would she. Oswald dusts of his jacket, stands slightly straighter, and knocks his umbrella -which he uses as a cane- against the door five times, then four, and finally one. The door creaks and groans, and then lurches upwards slowly, the whole way squeaking as it rolls up. Oswald motions with his head for everyone else to enter first. They move forward as Oswald does, followed lastly by y/n.

Once she’s in the storage unit, the door closes- much quicker than it had opened. The slightly pale ginger stands up with a flair, his permanent smile widening as he moves forward to greet them.

“Hello, Oswald.” He says, his voice gruff as he stretches out his hand. Y/n moves forward, holding out her hand to shake his too, but his gaze merely stops on her for a second. His eyes light up slightly, and he withdraws his hand.

“Yes, hello.” Oswald says hastily. Jerome’s gaze flicks down to the gun in y/ns hands, and his eyebrows shoot up as he turns over to Oswald, his eyes sparkling as he tilts his head.

“You shouldn’t give toys to little kids; not toys like that,”

“I’m not a kid.” Y/n mumbles, not looking over at him. His eyebrows shoot up even higher as he whirls around to face her.

“Ah, she speaks!” He claps his hands together once, and moves in front of her, staring down at her. “Oswald, what is it that you wanted?” He continues, moving too fast for y/n too keep up. He turns around, spinning in a circle, stopping when he stands in front of him. “Because as you kn-ackaugh.” He pauses, his whole body wrenching as a look of pain crosses his scarred face, his eyes closing tightly. Jerome clears his throat roughly, his body again spasming. He cranes his neck up, arching his back slightly as he stretches his neck, his head rolling from side to side. When his eyes finally do open, they roll over to peer at y/n before he laughs roughly. “Sorry about that- being stabbed in the neck will do that to you.” He taps his wrist, staring down at y/n still. “Why did you take her here?” He moves forward quickly, and a look of panic crosses Oswald’s face. Jerome reaches out, grabbing her chin gently and moving her head up and down, side to side, examining her face. “This isn’t exactly what I was expecting in payment, but…”

“I am not trading you my sister!” Oswald hisses, moving forward violently. One of Jerome’s lackeys moves forward quickly, restraining Oswald as Jerome hops away from y/n, a shrill, loud laugh erupting from him.

“It was a joke,” he wheezes, grasping his sides as he bursts into another fit of rough, high pitched laughter. “Can’tcha take a joke, Oswald?” He grins at him, and holds his hands up quickly. “Look, I’m not here to make enemies.” A short, bubbly laugh flies past his lips once more before all expression leaves his face. His eyes burn as he looks at Oswald and y/n. “Unless you want to make enemies.” He casts his gaze over to y/n once more, smiling brightly. “Hey there, sweet cheeks. Be a doll and give me your gun?”

“Don’t talk to her like that Jerome!” Oswald explodes, staring at Jerome, murder written in his eyes.

“Oswald, stop.” Y/n says, holding her arm out in front of him. She steps forward, locking gazes with Jerome as she holds up her gun. His eyes only leave hers every few seconds to look at the gun. “This?” Y/n asks, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

“Yes, that gun. Is there another damn gun would I be talking about?” He growls. Y/n pulls her other arm away from Oswald and holds the gun out to Jerome.

“Just calm down, okay?” She meets his gaze once again. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Ha! Hard to believe, with your brother over there.” Jerome barks out a laugh, eyeing the gun but not taking it.

“Jerome.” Y/n says firmly. Something about the way she speaks compels Jerome to meet her gaze. “I don’t want any trouble, Jerome.” She moves forward, grabbing Jerome’s hands. At this point, all of his followers are tense, fingers on their triggers. Y/n nudges Jerome’s hands open gently, placing the gun in them. He stares down at her, his eyes darkening as he grips on to one of her wrists tight, tossing the gun across the room with his other.

“You’re brave for someone so quiet.” Despite all the angry noises coming from Oswald, Jerome reaches out and strokes y/n’s cheek. “So, gentle,” he murmurs, every feature on his face softening. As y/n feels herself getting lost in Jerome’s eyes, her heart pounds quickly.

“And you don’t seem very dangerous for the most infamous criminal in Gotham.” She comments, tilting her head so his hand is cupping her face more, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “But, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Right?”

Jerome pulls away from her, his whole-body stiffening. “That’s exactly right, doll.” He waves his hand in the air. “Just, do whatever you’d like, Oswald. We can team up whenever, you need a favor, I’m your guy, you need supplies; I’m your guy. Take whatever you want now, we can just get more.” Oswald’s jaw drops open, and one of Jerome’s followers turn to him.

“Bu- but Jerome, are you-” His voice is silenced by the bang of a bullet as it sinks through his skull. Jerome stares at his gun in shock, as if he hadn’t known it was loaded, and then tosses it aside carelessly. He turns back to y/n one more time.

“Do me a favor,” he says softly. “Don’t trust anyone but your brother. He’ll take care of you, he’ll keep you safe.”

“Well, can’t I trust you?”

“No. Come to think of it, I don’t want you coming around here again.”

“Well, why not? Maybe I want to come down here some more.” Jerome swallows roughly.

“I can’t have you around me. You’re going to stay away from me.”

“I don’t have to do what you say.” Y/n says, easily getting fed up with his sudden coldness towards her. “You barely even know me, what’s your deal?”

“I know that I’ll like you, y/n. I know that I’ll love you, in fact. That can’t happen, y/n. It can’t.

“Maybe I want it to happen,” she calls out, shocking Jerome and Oswald. They both turn to look at her, jaws slack.

It can’t! When people like me, like your brother, when we care about people, they get used as leverage. Your brother let you out of the house much?”

“No…no?”

“My point exactly. If people knew he cared for you, knew he was your sister…you’d be dead in an instant, doll.” Jerome laughs, and turns around. “So, I’ll say it again; you aren’t coming back around here. Oswald, get her out of here.”

As y/n leaves, she makes a silent promise to herself.

She will visit him again.

She wants to see him again, and they’ve only just met. She’s already infatuated.

Art Lover.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Black!Reader.

Warnings: SMUT. Oral sex (fr), unnprotected sex (that’s a bad idea, bitches), flirting, Bucky being super cute.

Word Count: 2195.

Rating: 18+

Masterlist.

Remember sunday? When I told y’ala write a reader insert with a Black!Reader? Well, welcome to the party! I want to thank everyone who read Muñeca. I wasn’t expecting people to like it that much. This is dedicated, again, to everyone who thinks this kind of fic is discriminatory towards white people, specially @papi-chulo-bucky​ anon.

I am the Queen of Salt.

Tagging: @sugardaddytonystark@sexylibrarian1@thecrownedrose @erisjade@bladebarnes@ryverpenrad @acunningstargazer@palaiasaurus64 @marveldcmistress@sebstanchrisevanchickforever19

Hope you enhoy this. I love you!


Bucky loved the peace and quiet of the Museum. Once he had been cleared to, at least, roam around the public areas of King T'Challas royal compound it had became one of his favorite places to go. No one payed any attention to him there or no one did, until the day she did.

He had heard her heels clicking on the marble floor first, determined and unwavering moving in his direction, until she stopped and cleared her throat, getting him to look at her. A small, pleasant smile etched on her face.

“Sergeant Barnes, is there something I can help you with?” Her voice is soft and clear, with a slightly raspy edge to it and he looks her up, taking in her appearance, her brown skin, dark eyes, her hair.
“Not really. I just like the quiet of here” Bucky smiles “And the art is real pretty too”
“Would you like to know about it?” She’s smiling at him, soft and sweet and Bucky reminds himself that it is part of her job and she probably doesn’t want to really do this. People normally stare at him or avoid him, he’s come to the conclusion that a 6'5" guy with a metal arm is not really an inviting sight.
“I’d love that sweetheart, but I don’t wanna impose on you” He gets up, ready to leave.
“You wouldn’t be imposing, Sergeant Barnes. Is my job and you seem genuinely interested in it” She takes a deep breath and Bucky’s eyes fall to her chest, the neckline of her dress is just low enough to show a tantalizing amount of her cleavage, without being unprofessional “Besides, I like talking about it and people keep telling me I have a nice voice”
“You do have a nice voice, doll” Bucky is surprised when she giggles.
“So is true. You really do the ‘doll’ thing” She laughs softly again and then takes another deep breath “I’m so sorry… Is just…” She trails off and then takes his right arm “You see… The girls? Oh, how they love that. They get all giggly when you call them that, I bet you were a hit back in the day with the ladies” she starts walking and Bucky is completely entranced by her and her voice and her energy.
“Most of them just seem scared of me. Or my arm. Or what people say about me”
“It is a bit intimidating, but that’s part of the attractive, too… I guess” She looks at him through the corner of her eye and see him smirking a little.
Bucky chuckles lowly and she joins him, her laugh is melodious and he finds he wants to hear more of it.

When they stop in front of big painting she launches into it, talking about the artist and her life and from what part of Wakanda she is, and why and how she started painting, and Bucky listens to her. It had been so long since something caught his attention in such a way, he’s sure it is in part because of what she is saying and in part because he is under her spell. No wonder people like hearing her talk about art. He’s already thinking about coming back the next day, so she can keep showing him around, but it is getting late and he needs to head back. He’s got an appointment with the technicians that oversee his arm and Steve has been a real pain in the ass lately.

The next day he’s there and so is she. She’s smiles at seeing Bucky in front of the big painting of the day before and approaches him with that confident stride of her.
“Sergeant Barnes” Just as the day before she takes his right arm “How are you today?”
“Please, doll… Call me James or Bucky, I haven’t been Sergeant Barnes for a long time”
“Ok, James. That is such a beautiful name. You look like a James” Her smile is more open today, not as professional as the day before and Bucky wants to ask her what does she mean when she says he looks like a James.
“C'mon, doll. Is not as beautiful as you” She tilts her down bashfully and her smile turns timid, the compliment came out of his mouth before he even thought about it, like a reflex or a memory from a long time ago. He likes it, it feels good having that part of himself back, even if it is for brief moments.

It becomes their thing, he goes into the Museum almost on daily basis and she meets him there, walking through it and talking about art. But soon enough the conversation starts to shift from the art to their lives, Bucky often says that whatever she wants to know is all over the internet and she insists that’s not true, he always tries to change the subject.

One day instead of taking his right arm, she absentmindedly takes his left, Bucky goes stiff for a moment, then notices how she is distractedly tracing the plates on his boinic forearm, she has gone silent, just looking at the arm and tracing her fingers softly on it. Bucky looks at her and she looks back at him, biting her lip bashfully.
“I’m so sorry, James. Is just… I had never seen your arm this close. Is beautiful”
Bucky smirks and looks at her “I wouldn’t describe it as beautiful, you know? But you don’t have to apologize”
“No” Taking a deep breath she starts talking again “I totally have to”
Bucky chuckles humorlessly and the takes her face in his hands “Doll, is ok. Look, this arm is really out there you know? Is not easy to ignore, yet you’ve only showed curiosity over it after we, pretty much, covered every single art piece in this museum. So it doesn’t really bother me” He smiles softly and this time it does show in his eyes “And I just ran out of excuses to spend more time with you and I really wanna spend more time with you”
“James” She whispers his name and Bucky looks around making sure there’s no one coming up or down the hall, then he dips his head down and kisses her softly on the lips. There’s a couple of seconds where she’s not really doing anything besides standing there, but when she does something is more than what Bucky was expecting.
“Oh, fuck it” She mutters against his lips and kisses him back, her right hand grabbing his left forearm and the other hand going around his waist, is not rushed or frantic, is deep and needy and when they pull back she’s panting softly, with a small smirk on her lips “I was wondering if you were ever going to do that”

The moment his doorbell rings Bucky runs to it, opens it and drags her in. Kissing her hungrily and unapologetically, before kicking the door shut.
“You hungry?” She just nods and kisses him again, her arms around his neck and she kicks her high heels off, standing on her tiptoes she tangles her hands in his hair and tugs, getting a moan out of him and she giggles.
“I knew it” The little, self satisfied smirk she’s wearing after discovering he likes to get his hair pulled, turns into surprise when Bucky pushes her against a wall and places his hands at either side of her head, capturing her lips agains. Then, when Bucky tries to pull back she pulls him back in, pushing on her tip toes again.
“Doll… I’m really trying to be a gentleman here” He smiles against her lips.
“But I don’t want you to be a gentleman right now” Her hands make their way under his shirt and she feels his muscles moving softly under her fingers.
“Are you sure, doll?” He pecks her lips and she chases after him, making Bucky chuckle.
“Yes, I’m positive” She’s not even finished talking when Bucky is already lifting her from the ground by the backs of her thighs, her arms securing themselves around his neck. Lips locked together.

Bucky throws her softly on the bed and she bounces on it, a peel of laughter escaping her at his actions, he takes his shirt off pulling by the back of his neck and watches as she launches into action, taking her jacket and dress off in rapid succession, the contrast between her dark skin and her pastel colored underwear is one of the most beautiful things Bucky has ever seen, he circles her waist with his metal arm and pulls her to him, his right hand grasping the back of her neck and kissing her again, his tongue slipping inside of her mouth when she sighs.
“You’re so beautiful” He’s got her face between his hands now “I’ve wanted you since the moment you walked up to me”
He pushes her back on the bed, until she’s laying on her back and Bucky takes the sides of her underwear, pulling it down her legs and taking them off. Bucky kisses her leg, starting at her ankle and going up, until he reaches the inside of her thigh and bites down on it, making her moan out loud.
“Do you like that, doll?” He does it again and her moan is louder “C'mon sweetheart, be a good girl and use your words”
“Ugh… Yes, James. I like it” He bites down again, on her other thigh, and she mewls, now Bucky’s the one sporting a self satisfied smirk on his face.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good, doll” He parts her lower lips and flicks his thumb over her clit and she squirms a little, Bucky throws his metal arm over her hips, keeping her down just before diving into her cunt and starting to suck and lick at her clit. He enters her with one long finger of his right hand, the sweetest sigh leaving her lips at his action. Bucky looks up to find her propped on her elbows, looking down at him with dark, wide eyes, he winks at her and she shakes her head. A broken moan is all she can mutters the moment he pushes a second finger in.
Bucky starts pumping his fingers, curling them up, until he finds her g-spot, watching as she lets herself fall back down on the bed, moaning his name until she comes, panting and trembling in his arms.

When she opens her eyes Bucky is by her side, smiling down at her and caressing her belly “Doll” She tangles her hands on his hair and kisses him again, hard and deep, swinging her leg up and over his hips, straddling him and grinding against his length “Stop teasing” She licks her lips and takes his cock in her hand, guiding it to her entrance and pushing down on him, taking deep breaths while she gets used to the feel of him.
Bucky grabs her hips, desperate to find something to anchor himself and not start fucking her at once. She starts rocking her hips softly, her hands on his chest and bites her plump bottom lip when Bucky’s right hand twitches on her hip, he growls at her, desperate for her to get a move on it. Little by little she starts to move faster and faster, a light sheen of sweat covers her skin, adding a soft shine to her soft body.
She leans down and kisses Bucky, moaning into the kiss and biting his lower lip, making him groan.
Then he grabs the back of her neck and there’s no letting her go back to her previous position, keeping her forehead to forehead with him.
“Fuck… Doll, you feel so good” Bucky turns them over and lays her on her back, pushing her hands over her head and keeping them pinned there with his right hand at the same time that he starts thrusting his hips fast and hard, he tried. God, he tried to take it slow, but he knows he can’t. The need is too strong for that and her face is scrunched up in pleasure. Bucky flicks her clit and she cries out his name, her hips bucking desperately from the bed. He’s so close he can taste it but needs her to come first, he wants to see her once more. So gets to it, really gets to it, giving her clit small pinches and flicking it over and over again until she screams his name, hips bucking and legs trembling, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.
Is just in that moment that James lets himself go, coming with his face buried in her neck, teeth biting down on her shoulder, hard enough to leave teeth shaped bruises.
He stays on top of her a few moments, before rolling over and pulling her to his side, kissing her forehead.
“Doll… I had invited you to dinner” His laugh sounds sincere, even to himself.
“We can still eat. But you have bring the food here, because I don’t think I can walk right now”