#request answered

For an embarrassingly long time you rejected her, always turning down her advances despite knowing what she did to you that very first night... and how much you enjoyed it. The past two months though you stayed, having nowhere else to go this was your best option and yet despite her crude remarks and musky scent -which never went away even when she showered in dingy motel rooms- you stayed.

"One room, double bed." The clerk at the desk of said dusty, dingy motel just off the highway barely lifts his head as he grabs a room key and takes Sevika's money.

"Upstairs, last door on the left." Taking the key she swings it around her finger before grabbing your hand and practically dragging you up the stairs- which she takes two at a time. If you were being kidnapped or held against your will that clerk would have zero clue. Terrible customer service. "Looks like you're sharin' with me dollface."

"I told you to stop calling me that." With exaggerated annoyance you rip your hand from hers, trying to prove the point that you still 'didn't like her'. Even though Sevika has climbed into that sleeper and used your body while your 'asleep' multiple times and you never stop her.

"Why would I stop? Your face gets all scrunchy when I do. It's adorable."

"My face does not get 'scrunchy' thank you very much!!"

"Tell that to your nose. Right now. It's all srunched up and adorable... like a feisty mouse." Just to prove her point Sevika boops your nose. This huge, 6ft something tall, intimidating yet kind of soft, infuriating woman just booped your nose.

"I- you-"

"Feisty mouse." She grins, unlocking the door and ushering you out of the hallway and into the room.

It was going to be a long night, you knew that purely from the way the lights flickered, the bed looked like it was wobbling on one leg and the wallpaper was stained with... something. "This place is gross."

"Beggars can't be choosers, dollface." Your head whips around to tell her off for calling you that but the shit eating grin on her face says it all. She knows exactly what she's doing and nothing you do will stop her.

Yeah. A long, very long night this would be.

⊹˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•₊˚⊹

That bed that looked like it was about to break? Now it felt like it was about to break too. With your face pressed into the sheets -which your positive hadn't been washed- Sevika plows into you from behind, one hand fisted in your hair at the scalp with her other free hand on your hip squeezing and kneading the flesh there. "Jesus christ you always feel so good doll..."

Sevika had showered first, leaving you to only get half of a shower before the water ran cold, leaving you freezing- nipples rock hard and body shivering. Was it Sevika's plan so that she could help 'warm you up'? Sure. Did it work? Absolutely.

The obscene 'plap plap plap' of her pelvis hitting the soft flesh of your cheeks with each thrust bounces off the walls, the paper thin walls which almost guarantees that anyone in adjoining rooms could hear you. "S-sevika not so h-hard..." weakly your hands push at her lower stomach, trying to calm her thrusts or slow her down but it's no use she's a well oiled machine from having you around so much- you made the monster now you have to deal with it.

"None 'a that dollface-" her grunts grow huskier, deeper as her hips continue to plow her thick, girthy cock into your cunt which is absolutely betraying you with how sloppy it is and how you tighten around her each time she hits that spot.

Gripping your wrists with one hand Sevika pins them to your lower back rendering you useless, unable to do anything but take it now. Every pump of her hips encourages the already-squeaky bed legs to creak and shake under the weight of both of you and the rapid movement, threatening to collapse beneath you. Sevika is too blissed out in your cunt to care, reveling in the way you walls grip her cock like a velvet sleeve and you're far too gone to be worrying about it- drool forming at the corner of your permanently open mouth, staining the already questionable bedspread.

"Best ah- best fucking pussy I've ever felt." Her hand tightens around your wrist as she grows closer to her orgasm, embarrassingly quickly. Despite having you around for a few weeks and taking what she needs when she needs it Sevika still isn't used to having such a pretty thing available whenever she needs it. For years she's sat alone fucking her grease stained fist for a mediocre release out of necessity.

You were heaven. Sevika's heaven. And there was no chance she was letting you go anytime soon.

Every thrust, every creak of the bed leg only fuels Sevika's feral need for you. There's something about you -young, pretty, so fucking willing- that gets her off like nobody has before. Younger and in her prime she had no trouble with women though growing older and being out on the road put a pin in that... until you came along like an angel sent from the heavens above.

"Gonna fill you up doll... god this pussy is fuckin' perfect..." her moans and groans mingle with your own whines and cries of pleasure as her hips stutter, pace faltering as she finally lets go, releasing the pent up frustration from the past couple of days directly into your warm, open and willing womb.

Feeling the spread of warmth seep into your tummy your body betrays you and you finally allow yourself to let go- to stop holding back and pretending you don't like what she does to you. Pulsing and tightening around her invading shaft your cunt pulses and milks her cock unknowingly making Sevika cum again still buried deep inside. "Jesus christ dollface... keep doin' that and I'll never let you go."

Staying buried deep Sevika manhandles you so that you're both lay down, her spooning you from behind, pressing soft, unexpected kisses to your sweaty skin. "You... weren't going to let me go... anyway." You feel the curve of her lips against you back, confirming your statement without a word.

"No. It's far too lonely out here without you, doll. Need my girl to keep me entertained."

Pure sin.

Pure danger.

Pure domination.

The static hits first—a sharp, crackling pulse that ripples through the walls as the lights flicker.

You barely have time to gasp before shadows coil around your ankles, dragging you backward and onto the bed with a thud.

And then he appears.

Alastor materializes in a burst of green light and glitching radio noise, grin stretched wide enough to make your pulse stutter.

“Well, well, well…” he purrs, voice layered with distorted echoes. “My little pet thought they could call me buck and walk away unscathed?”

You open your mouth to answer—but he’s already on you.

One hand slams beside your head, the other clamps around your jaw, tilting your face up hard enough to make you gasp.

His fingers dig in, forcing your gaze to lock with his glowing crimson eyes.

“Naughty,” he growls.

“Bold.”

His grin widens.

“Mine.”

His claws trail down your throat—slow, threatening, reverent—until they hook your clothes and tear them like paper.

You shudder under the sudden exposure.

“Look at you,” he hums, radio static purring through his voice. “Already trembling.”

He leans close, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re not trembling from fear… are you?”

Your breath hitches.

He chuckles darkly.

“I knew it.”

Shadows bind your wrists to the headboard in an instant.

You arch against them, but they tighten, unforgiving.

“Good,” he whispers. “Struggle. I adore it when you try.”

He forces your legs apart with a casual snap of magic, pinning you open beneath him.

His grin drops—just for a second—replaced by something darker, hungrier, animalistic.

“You wanted a buck?”

Static tears the air as his voice deepens into a growling snarl.

“Tonight… you get the damned beast.”

He slams his hips into you with no warning.

You cry out—loud, raw—and he moans at the sound.

“That’s it.” His voice glitches, layered and demonic. “Scream.Moan.Beg.”

He pounds into you hard enough to shake the bed frame, grip bruising your hips.

Every thrust is deep, punishing, claiming.

His magic crackles with each movement, red lightning sparking around his antlers.

“Do you think you get to tell me what to be?”

Another brutal snap of his hips steals your breath.

“Call me a buck again.”

He grabs your throat, squeezing lightly—controlling your breath, your voice, your everything.

“Say it.”

“M-my buck—” You choke on the words as another thrust hits a devastating angle.

“Ohhh, lovely,” he hisses, laughing low in his throat. “Do you hear yourself? So needy. So broken.”

He squeezes your throat again, just enough to make your vision spark.

“You’re not ready for what happens next,” he murmurs. “But you asked for it…”

Static shreds through the room.

“So I’ll ruin you properly.”

He bends down, lips ghosting your mouth, but barely touching.

“You don’t come until I say.” A cruel pause. “And I haven’t said.”

You whine—helpless, desperate—and it only makes him thrust harder.

“Good,” he snarls. “Cry for me. Break for me.”

His fingers dig into your jaw, forcing your eyes open when they flutter.

“You look at me while I take you apart.”

His grin widens into something wild, delighted, monstrous.

“My sweet little toy…” His voice drops into a growl. “My filthy pet…”

A thrust that steals your breath.

“My buck-calling brat.”

His hand tightens on your throat again.

2014 - 3 months, 16 hours and 240 minutes since freedom.

Romania seemed safe enough. HYDRA did t have people there… not for now at least, and Bucky spoke the language well enough, so Romania seemed like a no brainer.

Bucky was currently speaking to the elderly landlady of an unassuming tenement, it was a small one bedroom apartment, it was the kind of place that attracted the kind of people you didn’t want to share a living space with. But it was cheap, cash in hand, no questions asked.

As Bucky was settling up the agreement with the landlady, you stayed close to him, not touching. Never touching, but close enough that you knew he couldn’t go anywhere.

“The child… is it your child?”

The landlady asks in Romanian as she goes to pinch your cheeks, you don’t step back. You hated touch, Bucky knew that, but he also knew you didn’t know that ‘No’ was an option too.

“She uh- she’s got a rash” Bucky lies awkwardly, the woman draws her hand back, patting your shoulder animatedly, before handing Bucky the keys, watching you as he scoops your small form up and takes you into your new, doll sized apartment. There wasn’t much, but it was enough. There was one small room, which Bucky would set up for you, he would sleep on the kitchen floor, he hated the feel of a bed. He didn’t really deserve one anyway.

It had been a long day, Bucky had tucked you into the pathetic excuse of a bed in your small room

“Hey” he says to you softly, “Things are gonna get better for you. You’re gonna have a good life, kid.

He kisses your temple tentatively, something he had only started doing recently, but you welcomed it anyway. He turns off the light and you whimper. You hated the dark.

“Stay” you whisper almost silently.

“I’m not leaving. Not now, not ever” He vows.

You stay sat up in your ‘bed’ watching Bucky and the subtle rise and fall of his chest before succumbing to an exhaustion induced slumber. Bucky fell asleep too, at some point. But he was far from relaxed. He remained stiffly uptight and tense, like a guard dog.

2016 - 1 year, 8 months and 12 days since freedom.

Eventually, you found a routine and you began to emerge from your shell. You were less nervous, you had started to behave more like the small child you were, and not the soldier HYDRA had moulded you to be.

You loved accompanying Bucky to the bustling Romanian street markets, you liked picking out fruits and vegetables and deciding which cheeses smelt the least inoffensive to your heighten senses. This time, your market trip was different, Bucky knew something wasn’t right almost as soon as he had left the safe house with you. Someone was watching. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he was attempting to pick out the ripest plums at the stall, you were holding his hand, the metal one - just whilst he felt the fruit. As soon as he purchased said fruit, he’d be back to holding your hand with his flesh one. But unbeknownst to Bucky, he wouldn’t be purchasing any fruit today.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw a movement. One that wasn’t part of the usual busy streetscape. He dropped the plums and scooped you up in one swift motion, you go to speak - your mouth opening subtly

“Not now sweetheart” Bucky says gently, but there was a note of stress and almost anger in his voice. Not at you though, never at you, he was angry your peace and safety had been compromised.

2016 - 1 year, 8 months and 13 days since freedom.

“Where’s the kid” Bucky asks as soon as he regained consciousness.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asks calmly

“Your mom’s name was Sarah” Bucky grumbles, “You used to stuff newspaper in your shoes” he laughs.

There’s a beat before the mood turns tense

“Where’s my kid?” He repeats a little more firmly this time, he could ignore the throbbing in his left arm. He could ignore the random man looking at him from behind Steve, but not the absence of his kid.

“Where is she Steve?”

“She’s safe” Steve emphasises

“Bucky!” You shout out as you run over to him, you hide behind him, grabbing his right arm

“Hey, hey, you’re okay?” He asks as he removes his right hand from your grasp and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah” you whisper, clinging onto him.

He keeps you behind him.

2017 - 3 years, 2 weeks, 4 days since freedom

You really loved Wakanda. It was quiet. You hadn’t really experienced quiet yet. You liked school too. You were never alone, everyone was really nice and you had a great group of friends. You liked T’Challa too, he spoke to you about your powers and abilities when he didn’t have any particular duties to fulfil, it was different. You hadn’t never really spoken about that with Bucky, he didn’t speak about HYDRA. Not ever. But T’Challa wasn’t afraid to confront those topics with you. You liked talking about it in an odd way. You talked a lot, pre-tee hood had brought out a talkative side to you.

Bucky had been in cryo freeze for the last 18 months. It was a pretty big shock to him that you had gone from being waist high and quiet as a mouse to being up to his shoulder and talkative. Very very talkative. You could talk for Wakanda, you could talk to an orange about an apple. But you were still the sweetest kid in the world in Bucky’s mind - even if your new personality could overwhelm the man who had been in an induced yet peaceful slumber for the past 18 months.

You and Bucky got closer in Wakanda, like a real father and kid. Maybe it was because you were both older, both less fragile and more accepting of your scars - both the physical and mental ones. You had both gotten used to your abilities too. Bucky wasn’t so scared of his strength anymore and you had grown into your abilities, you were comfortable using them in an everyday setting. But that didn’t mean Bucky wasn’t going to let you fight in any space wars against big purple aliens any time soon….

2021 - 7 years, 2 hours since freedom

2021 - 2 years, 6 months and 2 weeks since the blip

You missed Bucky. Steve was fine, but he wasn’t Bucky. He wasn’t your dad. You stayed in your room all day, didn’t talk you had been forced back into your shell. You were failing in school and you missed Wakanda. New York was too much. Maybe you would like it more if Bucky was there, showing you the spots he grew up, where he took girls on dates, where he defended Steve, where his childhood home was. But he wasn’t there and you couldn’t be sure if he would be again. You certainly weren’t going to let yourself dream of a future with Bucky in it. Hope was a dangerous thing.

October 17th 2023 - 5 years, 5 months since the blip

You had thought about how you would react when you saw Bucky again. It had been weighing on your conscience since 2018. It had consumed your adolescent brain in a way you knew would affect you for years to come. And now Bucky was just stood there. Like he had never left, and he had the nerve to look at you like you were someone he had never seen before. Five years was a long time, especially for someone who hadn’t stopped growing yet.

You were frozen in place, your shoulders were shaking, but you weren’t crying. Not yet at least.

Bucky walks over to you and you collapse into him

“I Waited so long” you sob into him

“I’m here” he whispers as he strokes your hair, “I’m so sorry kid”

You sniffle, “I missed you”

A comforting yet somehow awkward silence came over you both. You didn’t talk for what felt like hours and after not enough time of basking in the company Bucky was providing you, you pulled away and just looked at Bucky.

A million thoughts were circling in your mind, he was finally home and you had never felt relief like it, it felt like you had been pulled out of the deep end of a pool just as you were going under. You weren’t going to let him leave again. You sure as shit wouldn’t leave him.

2024 - Healing

When you said you weren’t gonna leave Bucky, you meant that.

Bucky had never willingly left you. Ten years ago, he could’ve left you at that HYDRA facility. His life probably would’ve been easier if he hadn’t looked back. But that was Bucky. He was selfless. So there was no way you were going to listen to when he was telling you go back to bed and let him “figure his own bullshit out”. You didn’t like seeing Bucky scared. But it happened. He got nightmares. Bad ones.

Bucky said you used to get nightmares too. He’d be up all night with you, trying to soothe you, trying to make sure you felt safe enough to let your guard down to finally get a sustainable amount of shut-eye for a kid. You felt incredibly lucky that you had blocked out your time at HYDRA enough to not get nightmares, even more so as you looked at your father figure who was sat on the floor, drenched in sweat and remorse with a painful, far off look in his eyes.

“Kid, please” he mutters, distracting you from your thoughts.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask softly as you pick yourself up off the floor and fill up the kettle, placing it gently on the stove and turning the gas on with a ‘click’ that cut through the tense atmosphere of your apartment. You set out two mugs, putting a tea bag in each

“Do I look like I want to talk about it?” Bucky scoffs, but there wasn’t any malice in his tone. He was just tired.

Really tired.

He hadn’t stopped fighting since he started in the early 1940’s. It was a weight that bore on his soul.

You poured the tea and handed him a steaming mug, sitting back down next to him and cradling your own mug of tea, taking a slow sip of the liquid.

“Tell me something” you say gently

“Like what?”

“I dunno, tell me what your sister’s were like, or how much of a ladies man you were a million years ago”

Bucky let out a chuckle at that teasing remark and you smiled at the break in the tension

“Did you ever want kids?” You ask him earnestly. Bucky stills for a moment.

“That stuff was kind of expected back then doll.” He rubs his forehead, “you’ve watched enough movies, guys like me - all kinds of guys really, but we were expected to get a pretty wife, one who was seen and not heard and who you cheated on with your secretary, a couple of kids, preferably a few boys you could play ball with and a daughter you could ignore, a nice house in a nice neighbourhood with a picket fence - I wanted most of that as much as any other guy back then, so uh sure. I guess I wanted kids. How come you’re asking?”

“Would you have wanted a kid like me?” You whisper, almost dreading the answer.

Bucky hesitates, “You wouldn’t have fit in the forties, or whenever I settled down. Things weren’t as great as history books make that time out to be. There was lots of prejudice and discrimination and - people wouldn’t have liked you in those times. You’re far too headstrong and kind and selfless.”

You smile, “So people were assholes back then?”

“Lots of ‘em were.” Bucky says tapping the handle of his mug

“Do you think you’re my dad in every universe?” You ask suddenly

“I hope so.” He replies, but he was lost in thought, “The worst time of my life led to the best thing in it and If someone walked through that door right now and told me that I could forget everything that happened to me in HYDRA, but I wouldn’t know you, I’d tell them to leave and never some back.” He says firmly. You don’t doubt him, not even for a second. You set your tea down and hug him tightly, your grip only loosening after a peaceful slumber consumes you.

2027 - family?

Bucky could tell something wasn’t right with you as soon as you walked back into the tower from a press conference led by Valentina. You hated Val. She was vicious. You could just tell that she was a bad person. You tried to see the good in everyone but you doubted there was any in Valentina.

You liked the Thunderbolts though. You had become fond of them. But that didn’t stop you from wishing - yearning for your old life with and Bucky back though.

Since moving into the tower with the Thunderbolts, you had gotten quiet again, you were shy. You had never been like that around Sam. You were stuck in a perpetual cycle of avoiding Bucky and staying in your room. Bucky was sick of it, this melancholic, self pitying kid wasn’t the one he knew and loved. If something was wrong, if you felt something was wrong, he needed to know so he could make it better. He would make it better. That was the most important job he had.

As Bucky approached your door, the one he had painted your favourite colour against Val’s wishes, he could hear music playing. It was a song he didn’t particularly enjoy but every time you squabbled about what made music ‘good’ you hit him with the fact he almost exclusively listened to Vera Lynn, and the Beatles. He thought that was a fair point. So who was he to talk?

You were sat on your bed, sulking. You had your phone in your hand, playing music on shuffle. You were sat almost completely still with a vacant look on your face - daydreaming probably.

Bucky knocks on your door, “kid, I’m coming in” it wasn’t a question.

He walks in and looks at you before pulling out your desk chair and sitting on it, staying quiet and just observing.

“You okay kid?”

“Peachy” you mumble

“‘Cause y’know, me and you, we’re open with each other-“

You cut him off, “if you’ve come here to lecture me, now isn’t really a great time.”

“This isn’t a lecture. I’m asking you to tell me what’s wrong”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong Jamie. Just please drop it.”

“No. No way, you think I like seeing you mope around the tower and shut everyone out? This isn’t you, this isn’t the Y/N I know.” His voice was strained. He wanted to shout, but he wouldn’t. Shouting wouldn’t solve anything.

“You’ll think it’s stupid” you say with an air of resignation.

“And if I do, I’ll still be glad you told me.” He offers a shy smile, you couldn’t help but mimic it.

“It’s just- it’s everything. And it makes me feel like a clingy toddler.” You admit embarrassedly. “Ever since we moved into the tower I’ve missed how things were before. Before I had to do bullshit press conferences and I - I miss when it was just us.”

Bucky stays still, listening attentively.

“I guess It’s never been just us though. Not in a normal context anyway. Every time it’s been just us we’ve been in hiding, we were someone’s enemy, and when things finally started to settle when you became like a congressman and we had our own apartment and I could paint my room whatever colour I wanted without checking with the wicked witch of the West-“

“Be nice” Bucky warns sounding exasperated.

“You don’t like Val either” You retort, “although I guess in the 1920’s manners were like life or death” You tease. Bucky gives you a stern look, one that meant “shut up” but you had always found it marginally funny, you poke your tongue out at him before continuing with your soliloquy, “But now we’re here and the others are fine, I guess but I wanted you to be just a congressman. I hate it when you go away on missions, I hate it when you have to do your avengerly duties and I feel horrible for saying that but I really wanted a semi normal life, after everything.” You were crying now, but you weren’t acknowledging the tears running down your face, but that didn’t change that they were there. Bucky didn’t acknowledge them either. He was cool in that way.

“Kid-“ he frowns before moving over to you and scooping you into a hug that swallowed you whole.

You stayed like that for a while, the occasional sniffle escaping you.

“I know we’ve never been a… well we’ve never been a normal family, but I’m always gonna be there for you, Y/N.” He says unwaveringly. “The day I went back into that HYDRA facility I made a promise. I promised that you would never leave you and that you’d always be safe with me and I’ll be damned if I don’t make good on that promise”

Your face was sporting a rather wet smile now, “okay” your smile becomes evident in your voice.

“Okay?” Bucky responds

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll talk to Val, about those press conferences and meetings - you don’t have to deal with that shit if you don’t want to. And uh - if you want we can hang out sometimes. Just us two.” He offers shyly.

“I’d like that”

“As long as it doesn’t cost me too much money” Bucky grumbles in response

“Oh please, Steve once told me that you spent $5 trying to impress a girl, that’s like a million dollars today, so you can afford two ice-creams in Central Park once a week, thank you.”

A noise of amusement escapes Bucky’s lips as he recalled the fuzzy memory fondly “yeah, maybe”

He kisses your head gently, the warmth lingering, “You got any homework?”

“Always” you respond with a deep sigh.

“Get on with it then” he says before exiting your room and shutting the door

Things were gonna be okay.