Carlos was taken from his mom, Encarnacion Bail Romero after she was arrested during a work raid. Her words, “Nobody could help me because I don’t speak English,” are still resonating deeply within me. This child was kidnapped from a loving mother, and she went to hell and backwards trying to get him back, and a judge literally told her she had no rights to her own child.
Completely unfit parents can get their children back like it’s nothing and this poor woman who loves her child and just wants him with her again cannot? How is this not human trafficking/kidnapping?
Also:
The judge said the biological mother had no rights to even see her child, according to the mother’s lawyer.
Asked if the Mosers would allow Bail Romero to see the child, the Mosers’ attorney, Joseph Hensley, said the couple was “not willing to comment on that at this time.” source
reminder that many children are funneled specifically to Christian families and communities for the same reasons they always have: destroy culture, stack votes, add bodies to communities that otherwise wouldn’t hold majorities. it is literal, actual trafficking.
This is a part of genocide. Removing the children from their parents, who generally desperately love and want to raise them, and placing them with white American families is a way to erase their culture from existence without the ugliness of directly killing children. But it’s still ugly, and it cares nothing for the actual welfare of the child.
i've been thinking about how it's so easy to get lost on tumblr with the mindset of like "everyone in the fandom has friends and it's only me who feels lonely" because you see all these friend groups around you and it feels very isolating sometimes. i want everyone to know that a LOT of people feel this way on tumblr (including me). i have days where i go online and i just feel very lonely like everyone doesn't want to talk to me and i'm being ignored. basically i'm making this post because i want y'all to know that it's not just you and i want to give all of you a big big hug
Run-through: With the enemy threatening to obliterate your family, you’re left with no choice but to take the hit just so he would spare your loved ones. Belonging to a mafia family requires sacrifices to be made at every step, and in order to save your family you make the ultimate one - you offer yourself up to the enemy. Bucky Barnes isn’t a man one negotiates with, he owns this city and whatever he says is considered law. But when you come to him with an irresistible offer, he bends his own rules for you. What starts out as an agreement becomes so much more, and the two of you find love where it wasn’t supposed to be. But rare are the love stories which don’t include some sort of war.
Themes throughout the series: mob!bucky, smut, angst, language, (mild) soft dom/sub dynamic, fluff
Run-through: With the enemy threatening to obliterate your family, you’re left with no choice but to take the hit just so he would spare your loved ones. Belonging to a mafia family requires sacrifices to be made at every step, and in order to save your family you make the ultimate one - you offer yourself up to the enemy. Bucky Barnes isn’t a man one negotiates with, he owns this city and whatever he says is considered law. But when you come to him with an irresistible offer, he bends his own rules for you. What starts out as an agreement becomes so much more, and the two of you find love where it wasn’t supposed to be. But rare are the love stories which don’t include some sort of war.
Themes throughout the series: mob!bucky, smut, angst, language, (mild) soft dom/sub dynamic, fluff
Run-through: With the enemy threatening to obliterate your family, you’re left with no choice but to take the hit just so he would spare your loved ones. Belonging to a mafia family requires sacrifices to be made at every step, and in order to save your family you make the ultimate one - you offer yourself up to the enemy. Bucky Barnes isn’t a man one negotiates with, he owns this city and whatever he says is considered law. But when you come to him with an irresistible offer, he bends his own rules for you. What starts out as an agreement becomes so much more, and the two of you find love where it wasn’t supposed to be. But rare are the love stories which don’t include some sort of war.
Themes throughout the series: mob!bucky, smut, angst, language, (mild) soft dom/sub dynamic, fluff
Summary: Bucky hates omegas. You change his mind. How will he react when you start to act like an omega?
Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Characters: Steve Rogers
Warnings: angst, language, a/b/o, grumpy Bucky, scenting, feisty omega, nesting, cuddling & snuggling, implied true mates, mentions of sex
<< Part 1
Mr. Grumpy masterlist
Divider by @firefly-graphics
Two hours later…
Bucky paces in front of your apartment door. You refused to let the stranger into your apartment and now he waits patiently (more or less) for you to come back and join him for dinner at your favorite restaurant.
“How much longer will you need?” Bucky grumbles, pressing his ear to your door. “Doll did you fall asleep and forgot about—” he huffs when you open the door to step outside. “Oh—wow,” the alpha purrs low in his throat.
He grasps for your hand to twirl you around to have a good look at you. “Hey, no touching, Barnes.”
“Bucky,” he mutters. “You agreed to call me Bucky or Buck,” smirking the alpha brings your hand to his lips to kiss your skin softly.
“You broke one of my rules. Now let me lock my door and we can have dinner,” turning your back toward the cocky mobster you don’t miss the snarl that leaves his lips.
Run-through: With the enemy threatening to obliterate your family, you’re left with no choice but to take the hit just so he would spare your loved ones. Belonging to a mafia family requires sacrifices to be made at every step, and in order to save your family you make the ultimate one - you offer yourself up to the enemy. Bucky Barnes isn’t a man one negotiates with, he owns this city and whatever he says is considered law. But when you come to him with an irresistible offer, he bends his own rules for you. What starts out as an agreement becomes so much more, and the two of you find love where it wasn’t supposed to be. But rare are the love stories which don’t include some sort of war.
Themes throughout the series: mob!bucky, smut, angst, language, (mild) soft dom/sub dynamic, fluff
Run-through: With the enemy threatening to obliterate your family, you’re left with no choice but to take the hit just so he would spare your loved ones. Belonging to a mafia family requires sacrifices to be made at every step, and in order to save your family you make the ultimate one - you offer yourself up to the enemy. Bucky Barnes isn’t a man one negotiates with, he owns this city and whatever he says is considered law. But when you come to him with an irresistible offer, he bends his own rules for you. What starts out as an agreement becomes so much more, and the two of you find love where it wasn’t supposed to be. But rare are the love stories which don’t include some sort of war.
Themes throughout the series: mob!bucky, smut, angst, language, (mild) soft dom/sub dynamic, fluff
A/N: Ah!! It’s the last part!!! (excluding the bonus chapter coming soon) But thank you to everyone who loved this series as much as I did, thank you for all your support and sweet messages!! It means a lot to me, i love you guys!!
Once a week, Bucky cleans and sharpens his knives, but this time, the easy task takes another path.
word count: 1.936 words. (i know, it's long, but it worth it).
warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! knife!kink, sir!kink, praising!kink, foreplay (female receiving, use of a knife), language, mention of bodily fluid.
author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.
Join the tag list here.
Who in their right mind wouldn’t feel hypnotized by the way Bucky has to dance a knife between his fingers?
Once a week it’s all he does during the day. Clean and sharpen his knives, after spending the whole morning training with them, while you can’t stop looking at him amazed. And horny. You feel like a slut, let’s be clear. You can’t help but imagine how good his hands make you feel whenever he touches you, whenever he grips your throat, whenever he pulls your hair. But, mostly, he’s too stupid to notice it. Even innocent you could say.
So, there you are, sitting on the sofa in front of him pretending to be reading a book, while his fingers grab a cloth with too much care to clean the blade of his favorite one. The one you got him for your first anniversary. A mini-machete with a black leather handle and golden ornaments all around it. When Bucky saw it for the first time, he fell in love.
As soon as he raises his oceanic eyes towards you, yours fall to the pages trying to hide the bunch of emotions within your chest and your lower belly. You can’t help but lick your lips clearing your throat, a gesture that makes him giggle putting down the machete over the table. In complete silence, Bucky stands up to stretch his arms to the ceiling, before leading his steps dangerously closer to you. Pressing your lips to contain a guilty laugh for being caught in action, you look at him through your eyelashes.
“You have something to tell me, doll?”
You shake your head swallowing greedily, about to choke on your own saliva.
“You sure?” He inquires then, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his grey sweatpants.
Fucking grey sweatpants. This time, you nod with your head, whilst he is sitting by your side. Bucky grabs the book between your hands, tossing it above his shoulder to somewhere on the floor, without putting his eyes away from yours. You gulp again, starting to feel some difficulties to breathe staring at him placing his arm made of vibranium over your shoulders. There’s no gesture on his face when he raises his left hand to your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him.
“C'mon... Tell me what you want”.
His lips brush yours, driving you insane and racing your heart, as his firm tone of voice slides itself between them. A shiver runs down your backbone, drying your throat as the heat floods your guts. But you can’t think of a single word to say. Bucky waits patiently a couple of seconds, nodding at the end as —for him— the game has started. He puckers his lips, about to get up from the sofa pulling his hands away from you. And you stop him. Of course you do. As soon as you can react. You grab his cold wrist to push him back, almost falling on top of you.
Bucky’s laugh fills the whole room, getting comfier between your legs while your fingers get tangled in his long brown hair. Using the tip of his tongue, he licks your lips at the same time he crashes his pelvis against your needed core. You can’t hold a loud and pleased moan, closing your eyes and hearing another laugh coming from his mouth.
“Last chance, doll. Do you have something to tell me?” The soldier grunts onto your lips.
“Just… touch me, please”. You’re almost sobbing so anxiously, when Bucky starts to rock his hips between your legs, creating a very satisfying friction.
“No, doll... We’re gonna try something new”.
Your eyes widen in surprise, curiosity, and confusion, touring the length of his metallic arm until reaching the long fingers grabbing the mini-machete you gave him. You gasp uncontrollably, while his other hand snakes up your thigh to find your panties under the baggy shirt you’re wearing. One of the shirts you usually steal from his wardrobe. Bucky brings the blade to his teeth, holding it there to sit up and help you to strip. In less than a blink, you are completely exposed to his attentive and lustful blue eyes.
You spread your legs for him without the needing of being asked for, showing him in all its glory your warm cunt shining in your arousal. Bucky would give his life for digging his hard and twitching dick in your pussy right now, but he has another plan. One that you are going to enjoy anyway. Leaning over you with the machete now back to his hand, his left forefinger goes straight to your folds; wetting it with your sweet juices in a soft stroke.
“Open your mouth”. He demands with such a raspy tone of voice, bringing the handle of his knife to your lips.
You welcome it in silence, delighted, hornier than ever. Twelve inches of leather that you suck and lick pleasantly for him. You cover it with your saliva, swirling your tongue around it as he marks the rhythm inside your mouth. Meanwhile, his index finger helps you to calm your anxiety, giving enough attention to your swollen clit. You can’t think, you can’t moan, you can’t breathe. You two haven’t started and you feel already that you could cum in less than a sigh. Bucky sees it in your eyes, and he can’t hide a petty smile growing on his face. He loves to tease you.
“Have you been feeling like this all day, uh?”
Pulling away the handle from your mouth, he drags it over your skin, down by your collarbone and the small space between your breasts. Slowly, too damn slowly. You don’t know how he can control himself this good when you’re about to cry. You need him so much. All the time. But days like these… You need him twice as much.
“Yes…” You just mumble weakly as the wet handle reaches your abdomen continuing his path down.
“Tell me what you want”.
“Put it inside me, please…”
“Please, what, uh?”
“Please, sir”.
You can see your boyfriend breathing through his parted lips, catching his air at the moment he watches you whimper when the leather slightly touches your clit. You are so beautiful for him —legs opened, hard nipples and begging.
Placing his flesh arm under your waist to raise a little your ass, Bucky plays with the handle up and down your slit, making a pressure that causes you to grunt annoyed. He giggles inevitably, sliding it slowly into your wetness, and you can’t help but arch your back pleased when the knife starts to stretch your walls so torturously and deliciously. When his cool fingers touch you provoking you a soft chill, and you feel it’s completely inside you, Bucky moves back his hand with the same slow pace.
He’s driving you crazy. He knows it pretty well. He doesn’t enjoy anything more than the fact of having you under his control, under his power. Gripping his warm hand around your throat, he makes himself some space by your side on the sofa. Now, his lips can touch yours, drink your delighted sobs, look at your eyes from closer.
“Do you like it, baby doll?”
“Yes… Yes, sir… I li— like it, sir”. You utter with a broken thread of voice, nodding with your head briefly.
“I know. I can feel it. You think I don’t notice…” He whispers in a hum, sticking his forehead to yours, tightening the grip around your neck. “But the truth is… I do it on purpose. I always make sure you look at me. Anyone else, but at me”.
Oh, there it is. These insecurities he always hides masterfully, but the ones that claim your attention the whole time. Bucky needs you too. You were the first person who didn’t treat him like an assassin, nor like a monster. He lives to make you happy. He can’t think about the idea of losing you one day, just because he doesn’t give you enough. But he is. He is more than enough. And you prove him every single day since you met him.
“Please, sir… I wa— want more… faster”. You plea against his lips, placing your arms around his, softly swinging your hips at the rhythm of the knife he’s using to fuck you.
“You want it faster, uh?” He repeats playfully, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek at the end.
“Please…”
And Bucky pleases you. The move of his wrist makes the pace increase a little. The handle goes somewhat deeper, carefully to not hurt you. He twists it making you moan, stir, bite your tongue. Bucky is well-aware of what you like and how you like it. And he wants to make you cream his mini-machete to remember that day whenever he uses it in a mission, far away from you.
A wet, dirty noise starts to make an appearance when the thrusts into your soaked cunt are more constant, just like your satisfied vocals echo the room. Bucky spreads kisses all over your face, keeping his fingers around your neck to keep you close.
“God… you’re such a good girl taking my knife this good”. Your boyfriend can’t help but purr onto your ear, feeling how he could cum in his sweatpants just by looking at you so damn needy for him. “And I swear… it’s not gonna be the only one… I’m gonna make you fuck all my knives, doll”.
Just imagining it, you feel the tickles concentrating in your lower belly. You feel your juices spilling down your buttocks and staining the sofa. This man is going to be the death for you. But if you have to die… Is there any other better way?
“C'mon… do your magic…” He encourages you, getting closer to your lips.
Bucky doesn’t give you the chance to moan in a reply, tucking his tongue into your mouth to devour it. The pushes to your g-spot become eager, harder, and well-aimed; wanting at all cost to make you cum. And as soon as he feels your legs shivering, he goes faster. You can’t control it. The orgasm is growing inside you easily as a forest is set on fire with a match. Crying out with his tongue invading your cavity and dominating yours, you tangle a hand on his hair arching your back as you find a new position that gives you some more pleasure. But you can’t hold it anymore.
Bucky is stealing your air by gripping your throat tighter, kissing you so impatiently, and you can’t hold it anymore.
The soldier swallows the loud howl that borns in the deepest place of your soul, feeling the explosion inside your stomach as you jump inevitably into the abyss of heat. But he doesn’t stop. He continues rocking the knife inside you, wanting to hear you a little more. Wanting to hear his full name mixed with your delighted whining and your growls. It’s never enough for you, nor for him. And now you want him inside you.
“Please… Please…” You cry pushing his metallic hand away from you, making him toss the soaked knife with your juices to the floor. “Please, sir… Fuck me… I beg you… I need your dick”.
“'Course you need it, my little angel… You need it all the damn time, don’t you?” He doesn’t sound angry, but his voice is rougher than ever.
He’s upset because you have forced him to pull out his mini-machete, but soon Bucky forgets it when he is buried deep inside your cunt. His cunt. Only his.
feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.
Warnings: feels, angst, symptoms of PTSD, mention of smut, painful memories, mention of nightmares, trauma, fluff.
Note: I've wrote this fic based on the trailer I've seen so it's best I give spoiler alert if you haven't seen it.
Feedback appreciated 😊❤️
🌿
Longing...
Rusted...
Freight car...
"Ready to comply soldat?"
The gunshots echoed. Blood splattered and painted the walls red.
A man fell down. And as his eyes roamed around the room, he saw the lifeless remnants of his victims.
Bucky stood there.
Wait... Who was Bucky?
Soldat. Yes. Soldat. That's who I am he thought.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw the gun away and walk out. But his hand remained stiff just like rest of his body.
He couldn't stand the red in the room and so he let out a scream, somehow those walls swallowing the sound.
🌿
With a jerk Bucky woke up, sweat dripping down his body, his heart running wild.
Bucky looked around, he was no longer in the room painted with blood. He looked at his hands, there no longer was a silver arm. The TV in the background somehow gave him a sense of peace, a assurance that he wasn't alone. TV in the background always calmed Bucky down. The silence drove him crazy.
Bucky had abandoned his bed long ago. Sleep was always light on the ground, it helped in keeping the nightmares away.
It was always the same. The theme of the dream. Some were memories, some were just fears.
It wasn't easy for Bucky to just get over the trauma of over a century. And that's when he opened up to Sam.
Not like a friend, but yes it was a start of something.
🌿
Sam understood Bucky more than anyone else but even for him, it was difficult. He helped Bucky in the only way he thought was the best.
Sam suggested a therapist.
🌿
The lady was talented and patient. She listened to Bucky, went through his previous journals and provided Bucky with the support he needed.
Therapies helped Bucky in ways he never imagined, but still the nightmares persisted.
"You need to make friends." She suggested.
"Sure." Bucky replied with sarcasm.
🌿
Bucky sat in coffee shop pondering on what his therapist had suggested. He usually tried out her suggestions, but making friends seemed impossible. Sam was easy. But would others understand him the way Sam or his therapist did?
It dawned on him then, Bucky had no friend except Steve. He never needed one. A thought of Steve brought smile on Bucky's face.
A smile you caught. You didn't know Bucky was thinking about Steve, you just thought he was smiling looking at you.
You smiled back.
And this time Bucky caught it.
It just felt right. You smiling at him. And this was just the first meet.
For almost days you smiled looking at one another. After a while Bucky made a move and you began talking.
Talking about internet, movies, TV series, comics, food, songs and so much more, you began bonding.
From smiling strangers, you became friends and then lovers. One moment you were talking about The Mandalorian, next thing you knew Bucky's lips were on yours.
A kiss turned into a make out session and that led you in his bed, moaning.
That night was the first time Bucky slept without having a nightmare.
🌿
It became a routine. Bucky laying his head in your lap, you caressing and scratching his hair and peppering kisses while you read his favourite books or watched TV.
Sometimes you made love. Sometimes you just ran your fingers over his body, caressing and drawing random patterns.
🌿
The very first night you spent together, you stayed up watching Bucky sleep. If he was between a nightmare, Bucky clenched his fists, his body twitched and he got sweaty.
You had observed Bucky a few times, you knew it was around 3 he'd get uneasy, it was when Bucky was in deep sleep.
Around the same time you woke up, you'd caress Bucky's hair and pull him in your arms gently rocking him back and forth. Bucky's nightmares would pass away then. He slept more peacefully.
Slowly with time he stopped having them altogether.
Bucky knew what you would do everyday for him to sleep better. And so every morning he made sure to not wake you up and sneaked out of the bed to make a delicious breakfast.
Cooking breakfast in the morning and a beautiful dame hugging him while he cooked, kissing him good morning was a dream Bucky thought he could never live.
And since you made your way in his life, Bucky actually began sleeping on the bed again.
Before Bucky could kiss you silly, the door bell rang. He had received a package with an attached note.
I made you a dreamcatcher. They say, it sends good dreams to the sleeper and the bad dreams away.
Sarah Wilson
Bucky smiled at the gesture. He was definitely hanging it over his bed, but he knew you were the true charm. His dreamcatcher.
I had a dream that the king and the queen of a small country had a daughter. They needed a son, a first-born son, so in secret, without telling anyone of their child’s gender, they travelled to the nearby woods that were rumoured to house a witch.
They made a deal with that witch. They wanted a son, and they got one. A son, one made out of clay and wood, flexible enough to grow but sturdy enough to withstand its destined path, enchanted to look like a human child. The witch asked for only one thing, and that was for their daughter.
They left the girl readily.
The witch raised her as her own, and called her Thyme. The princess grew up unknowing of her heritage, grew up calling the witch Mama, and the witch did her very best to earn that title.
She was taught magic, and how to forage in the woods, how to build sturdy wooden structures and how to make the most delicious stews. The girl had a good life, and the witch was pleased.
The girl grew into a woman, and learned more and more powerful magics, grew stronger from hauling wood and stones and animals to cook, grew smarter as the witch taught her more.
She learned to deal with the people in the villages nearby, learned how to brew remedies and medicines and how to treat illness and injury, and learned how to tell when someone was lying.
Every time the pair went into town, the people would remark at just how similar Thyme was to her mother.
(Thyme does not know who and what she is. She does not know that she was born a princess, that she was sold. She only knows that one night after her mother read her a story about princesses and dragons, her mother had asked her if she ever wanted to be a princess.)
((Thyme only knows that she very quickly answered no. She likes being a witch, thank you very much, she likes the power that comes with it and the way that she can look at things and know their true nature.))
The witch starts preparing the ritual early, starts collecting the necessities in the winter so they can be ready by the fall equinox. Her daughter helps, and does not ask what this is for, just knows that it is important.
The witch looks at Thyme, both their hands raised into the air over a complicated array of plants, tended carefully to grow into a circle, and says, sorry.
