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#dark!bucky barnes x reader
alanagrey · 2 days
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Dark Bucky Barnes One Shots
ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪs ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ sᴘᴇᴄɪғɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴛᴀʙᴏᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪsᴛᴜʀʙɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴘɪᴄs. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs.
✸ indicates my personal favourites, but all the below fics are absolutely fantastic.
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◌ One Shots
Two Graves, by @highonmarvel
→ [no description]
Cut, by @boxofbonesfic ✸
→ [You haven’t been having the best luck on dating apps, but you’re willing to try again]
disturbed, by @twjournals
→ [leaving the woods did nothing to keep the darkness from following you home]
Concrete Jungle Rapunzel, by @imanuglywombat
→ [You spend your days locked in a gilded cage, high above the concrete jungle, waiting for Bucky to return]
Doctor, Doctor, by @honeyhan-123
→ [With a bullet in his arm, Bucky seeks medical attention and a certain surgeon catches his eye]
What You Can’t See, by @honeyhan-123
→ [Bucky doesn’t understand how you could think were were just a one night stand]
R U Mine?, by @cryptidcasanova
→ [You made the mistake of falling for the mysterious stranger you met in New York. Unfortunately for you, you never asked about his line of work]
Goosebumps, @cherienymphe
→ [Living with your roommate was a dream come true…until she met Bucky]
Ten Steps, by @darkthallas
→ [A home intrusion by The Winter Soldier that doesn’t end so well for you]
After Party, by @xxindiglow
→ [Bucky doesn't take kindly to rejection]
Til Death Do Us Part, by @cherienymphe ✸
→ [after your arranged marriage has served its purpose, you bring up the inevitable topic of divorce. It is only then do you realize that you and your husband might not be on the same page]
swimming pools, by @sgt-seabass
→ [Bucky pays you back for your time as his contact by teaching you to swim]
You Can Cry, @highonmarvel ✸
→ [Biker!Bucky takes a liking to a sensitive girl]
You Know Better, Don’t You?, @xxindiglow
→ [Bucky doesn't like being told to move on. Ex-boyfriends are a pain in the ass]
blackout, by @our-destiny
→ [no description] [He was always watching. Everywhere you go he was always there keeping an eye on you]
Warm, by @highonmarvel
→ [Vampire!Bucky saves you from a car wreck]
Dumb Bunny, by @lunarbuck
→ [The Wolf sees you walking through the forest on your way to your grandmother's house, and he just can't help himself]
Take Me Home Tonight, by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor
→ [You run into a familiar face while working]
You’re My Obsession, by @navybrat817 ✸
→ [You’re the light in Bucky’s darkness. And he doesn’t want to share you with anyone, including Steve]
Best Man, by @navybrat817
→ [Bucky found the girl of his dreams and Steve couldn’t be happier]
Send Me An Angel, by @navybrat817
→ [Bucky thinks you’re an angel]
Run Like Hell, by @navybrat817
→ [You weren’t supposed to see the Winter Soldier that day. So you ran. The Soldat loves a good chase though...and you’re not getting away from him that easily]
Caught in the Sirens, by @straywords
→ [After getting away from your ex, you spend the majority of your time looking over your shoulder. When Officer Barnes then takes a special interest in your case, it seems too good to be true]
Tempest, by @highonmarvel ✸
→ [The storm brewing outside is nothing compared to the one in here]
Polaroids, by @highonmarvel
→ [You find out your boyfriend’s into photography]
HR, by @highonmarvel
→ [Your ex has made sure you’ll never get a job in NYC again, but you’re determined to keep your head above water. Just as things are getting too bleak to bare, you meet James Barnes]
Himalayan Salt, by @highonmarvel ✸
→ [You’re assigned to a notoriously grumpy war vet, but he’s different with you]
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dungeonpuppykai · 7 months
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When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.
If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)
He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.
Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️
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Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 
You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm. 
You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now. 
Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor. 
The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door. 
One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.
Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.
Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.
Soldat feels something stir within himself.
Something his masters did their best to suppress. 
Not that they would be doing any more of that. 
They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.
His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you. 
You are laughing.
At your friend that is throwing up.
Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible. 
A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.  
His eyes scan your form. 
Beautiful. 
His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;
Mine.
Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.
But he knows that it has been a long, long time. 
And it's time to go home.
But a home is not walls and concrete. 
It is the people that live in it. 
His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.
James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal. 
And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.
For what is a structure without its pillars?
He had plundered them single handedly. 
And now he was a slave no more.
James would live, and he would take.
Just as had been taken from him.
You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.
As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night. 
But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.
Right?
The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.
The third was the window of your room that was open wide.
But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life. 
You should have taken notice of the signs. 
How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem. 
Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was. 
Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence. 
And Divine it was, you lived to learn. 
When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything. 
You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.
What even happened? 
You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning. 
But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second. 
The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside. 
A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.
You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.
You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.
But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly. 
As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…
Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.
Your eyes widen in horror.
Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–
Or, rather, the last time you were awake.
Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen. 
Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.
It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.
With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.
"Who the hell are you?" 
He sighs. 
"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"
The man's features scrunch in disapproval. 
Your choice of words is much unappreciated.
"Good little wives don't ask questions." 
In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.
Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?
He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.
After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.
He is too close. 
There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.
The shock on his face is evident.
He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this. 
You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.
James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.
"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.
Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.
You run without looking back. 
The man is not chasing you like you expected. 
But you don't want to stick around and find out why. 
Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door. 
You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead. 
Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.
Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.
A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.
That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes. 
You ran into the jungle for some cover.
Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.
Your body is weak and confused. 
Many hours pass.
You wander and starve.
You hide and shake.
You tip toe and give up.
There are wild animals all around you.
You can hear them.
It's terrifying. 
So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.
Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently. 
"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.
He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one. 
"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet. 
It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home. 
"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands." 
He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.
"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that." 
He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.
You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.
Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet. 
He tells you your rules as he does so.
"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone." 
Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.
But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.
A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.
"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours." 
Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.
You don't give up easily, though.
You try to run more times than you can keep count.
Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.
Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.
And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery. 
But you don't know when he does it. 
So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern. 
Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.
Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.
He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse. 
James isn't so bad if you follow his rules. 
He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes. 
His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point. 
"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?" 
Today, though, something different happens.
You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.
How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.
The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.
If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning. 
No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.
Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.
When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.
You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.
Has to be.
You have no choice.
And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days. 
While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man. 
How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.
The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep. 
How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.
Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way. 
You don't get him sometimes.
His morals are as mysterious as him. 
Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.
Your tears don't effect him. 
But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.
It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.  
The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.
You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.
James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day. 
After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.
Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.
Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.
"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.
It had been a proud discovery of yours.
James always gave in a little whenever you used it.
"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.
Fuck.
"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"
"What about it?"
You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.
"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.
But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.
Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.
Fuck. 
Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.
Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.
You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.
The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina. 
It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever. 
James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.
You had done so in the past as well. 
But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.
It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.
Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.
And then comes the ultimate test. 
Which decides the course of your future with him.
He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.
It isn't a usual occurrence. 
But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic. 
While he had a metal arm himself…
You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast. 
It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.
"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken. 
Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.
But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.
A motorboat. 
Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.
It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.
You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting. 
A lot goes through your mind.
Flashbacks play before your eyes.
It is almost a full circle moment. 
And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining. 
His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.
"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you. 
The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.
"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–" 
"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy. 
"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"
You two just stare at each other for a while. 
No words exchanged.
Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.
"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."
He has never spoken this earnestly before.
"I just realized that I do too."
James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully. 
He tightens his own arms around you gladly.
He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape. 
The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.
Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.
It was a test and you passed. 
As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife. 
By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.
.
What do you think hAH-
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buckrecs · 1 year
Note
HELLO so i was wondering if you have some winter soldier x reader fics?? ive been trying to find some but theyre all so short (still amazing stories tho) tysm, i really appreciate you making recs
Winter Soldier!Bucky
masterlist | req masterlist
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ONESHOT
Into Cursed Pixie Dust by @buckets-and-trees
“He's credited over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years…” but you don’t know that. You run into him once, then again, again, again. Destiny draws you together, and neither of you can deny the pull. And yet though he never ages, you do.
Stalker by @you-are-my-sanctuary
In which Bucky has a crush on the new PR manager and is being an adorable stalker.
sleepwalking by @lanadelreyscokewhor3
when your boyfriend bucky wakes up with the winter soldier mindest, you do the only thing you know how to do- comfort him. he does the only thing he knows how to thank you- possessive sex. 
Colors in the Dark by @buckychrist
The world is without color, and that’s never bothered the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA didn’t have time for love and soulmates. At almost a century old, what are the odds that his soulmate was even still living?
ephemeral by @earlgreydream
the winter soldier shows up wounded at your door during a storm.
Purgatory by @wkemeup
While on a mission, Bucky becomes dissociated into the Winter Soldier. But instead of becoming a threat, his instinct is to protect.
a soldier gone rouge by @kinanabinks
the winter soldier has been sent to kill you. why, then, are you so wet?
Reverse Psychology by @waiting4inspiration
Bucky’s Winter Soldier mode is triggered. But you have something up your sleeves that will bring him back.
Comply by @gogolucky13
With Hydra, everyone is a prisoner.
Don’t Fear the Reaper by @gogolucky13
One night, the Winter Soldier appears at your place of work to eliminate a target. He leaves you alive, only to return a few months later.
Fatal Mistake by @rookthorne
A rogue agent amidst their ranks, it was the perfect plan, a perfect escape. It was their fatal mistake. 
Wolf, Partner, Gloves… by @revengingbarnes
HYDRA’s words make Bucky go into Winter Soldier mode. Then he meets you, and you make for him words that will bring him back to normal.
the dragon and her shadow by @kashimos-hajime
You fall in love with the Winter Soldier, and they punish you for it. Sentiment is weakness, but what can they do? After all, they cannot kill the Fist of H.Y.D.R.A. and mortal men cannot even begin to comprehend slaying a dragon.
take it easy, romeo by @sunmoonandeddie
The Soldat remembers one person through it all.
You Found Me by @samthemarvelfan
Bucky Barnes always came home to you. What happens when he doesn't? Worse than that...what happens when he forgets you existed?
Gone Again by @tokoyamisstuff
The Winter Soldier is lost and confused, unable to remember a single thing - except for the place where he’d find the woman that had become his safe space.
I’ll Come Back for You by @milliedazzledust
something where he is in winter soldier mode and protecting the scientist (y/n) where she is the only one who can sort of calm him down after a mission.
Void by @theeleggymeggy
Working as a nurse at HYDRA, you find yourself intervening when you catch Alexander Pierce striking The Asset. You don’t even know this man, but you can’t just stand and watch him be beat down.
Sweet Memory by @
SERIES
One’s Promised by @invisibleanonymousmonsters
Living a double life was not a choice when one was the daughter of Alexander Pierce. Y/N was the youngest agents of SHIELD and one of the most respected threats within Hydra’s empire. No matter her allegiance, she was feared by both. Y/N Pierce would’ve tried to escape it all… if it hadn’t been for The Winter Soldier.
Soldat by @the-fallen-nightmare
Captain America and Reader have worked together at SHIELD for over a year. What happens when they have a run in with The Winter Solider and Steve finds out the secret Reader had been hiding from him all this time? And what happens when reader is captured by Hydra and The Winter Soldier, again. Can she make Soldat remember her or is her life with Steve just a slow fading memory now?
 
Breach by @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor (dark)
The reader finds herself in the Winter Soldier’s cross hairs during a lock down.
Reset by @lunarbuck
The government has fallen, Hydra has taken over. You were an agent of SHIELD long before the reign of terror began, and became a member of the resistance when they needed you most. Everything changes when the Winter Soldier captures you from your safe house.
Devil’s Backbone by @trashmenofmarvel
With your team dead and your mission failed, you’ve been taken by the assassin to an unknown location and are at the mercy of your cruel tormentors.
Krasavchik by @after-avenging-hours
While under orders from Karpov to test the Soldat’s loyalties to Hydra, you find yourself questioning your own loyalties.
Welcome Home… Soldat? by @winterarmyy
Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.
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peachprairie · 10 months
Text
black satin
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Warnings: DUB-CON, oral (f receiving), intoxication, and alcohol *read at your own discretion*
Tags: darkish bucky barnes, fluff
Summary: after a night out with more than a few drinks you come home needing some love from bucky l wc: 1.5k
Notes: 1st marvel fic/blurb lets goo. this is pretty much pure smut so enjoy! pls reblog or give me feedback/lmk your thoughts.
18+ ONLY. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED
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The click of the lock fills the small hallway of the apartment. You had been out later than you anticipated. 
Natasha thought it was a good idea to keep ordering drinks throughout the night, specifically for you. All because she was shocked to learn that you didn't have a 'go to' drink order. She was adamant on finding you one, but with all the cocktails thrown at you they all seemed to fuzzily blur together. 
Your shoes shuffle on the wood, as you make your way to your bedroom.
The amount of alcohol you consumed tonight was way over your typical. Bucky always teased you about being "a lightweight", and because of your tolerance he always picked out drinks for you. He is truly everything you could ask for in a partner. He constantly showers you with love, care, and adoration. Throughout the night your mind kept drifting to him. He was all you could think about. How you wanted to be wrapped in his arms, how you wanted to kiss him, how you missed him.
You breach the bedroom doorway and there he was, back leaned against the headboard with his favorite book in hand. He smiles at your presence and you cross over to him in need of his affection.
"How was your outing with Nat?" He gazes up at you as you hover over him, your hands fall to his bare chest in efforts to stabilize yourself before ambushing his lips and face with small kisses.
"It was fun. She was trying to help me find a signature drink." 
"Oh, was she now? I knew you seemed a little more than tipsy."
"I do?" You eek. 
His comment surprises you because on the way up Nat said you sobered up a great deal on the ride home. If only he knew how drunk you were earlier he probably would have been really worried for you, and maybe even upset with Nat. 
"Yes doll" he grins as he places the book on the nightstand. "Tell me, what drink did you decide on?"
You straighten upright, trying to remember a drink you favored. The one with orange notes, came to your memory.
"The mai tai was good. Don't know if I found my favorite quite yet though." 
You move to wiggle your shoes off, and almost fall in the process due to the imbalance in heel height. Thankfully, Bucky outstretches his arm and holds your waist to give you balance.
You can't help but smile down at him. He was so careful with you and it drove you crazy in the best way. You admire his beauty as you rid yourself of your clothes. Everything goes except for your panties.
You crawl onto him, settling your legs outside of his. His large hands rest on your waist while yours rest on both sides of his face.
"I missed you" you whisper before, pressing your lips to his. When you pull back his ocean eyes are fixed on your doe ones. 
"I missed you too doll" he whispers back, then lays a kiss on your forehead. 
His arms wrap snugly around you, pulling you taught to his chest. Your head rests in the crook of his neck as his hand rubs over your spine. You loved being in his arms, it was your favorite place to be. Everything about this moment was blooming a desire in you. The bare feel of his skin on yours, the way you could hear his heart race, the way he held you so tight.
You tilt your head ever so slightly so that your lips find his neck. You leave sultry kisses along the soft skin, while your hand clings to the nape of his neck. Your hips mindlessly grind down onto his lap, yearning for a deeper connection.
"Doll" he nuzzles his lips to your ear, as his hand stalls your movement "you're really drunk, we should get you to bed"
"But I want you right now" You continue kissing his skin, moving down to his shoulder. "I need you" 
His hand fell onto your outer thigh, he was pleasantly surprised at your neediness. You take advantage of his lack of response and continue grinding on his lap. You pull away from his neck and are delighted to find that lustful look in his eyes.
The eye contact you were giving and the way you were batting your lashes at him, was making him weak. He was rock hard already at the way you were grinding just right onto his clothed member. Nonetheless he knew he shouldn't have sex with you while you were in this state. 
"Doll, we cant have sex while you're like this" 
"But buck you're so hard already, and I'm worked up too"
You were driving him insane, with every second that passed his morals were slipping. You were insatiable and all he wanted to do was take care of you. Trust that he craved the feel of you clenched around him, milking him, but it would be wrong for him to benefit from this, right? That's when the thought crosses his mind…  if he satisfied only your desires it would be completely different. He wouldn't be using you or taking advantage of you, he would be pleasing you.
You're pulled out of your haze by the abrupt change of position. You now lay underneath him, his body weight pressing between your spread legs.
His lips hover just above yours, while your foreheads join. 
"Baby" His breath sends a wave through your body, and your hips buck up into his. His eyes shut as he takes a deep breath "Fuck, you're making this hard for me"
His lips brush yours, so softly "I can't give you that right now doll" the pout that displays on your lips saddens him. "I can still make you feel good though, that okay?"
You fervently nod your head at his proposal. His lips collide with yours, developing into a heated mess. Your tongues dance, and lips push together almost bruisingly.
The feel of his hands gliding along your skin, elicits a small whimper into his mouth. His lips deter, kissing along your clavicle, as his fingers hook into the fabric that lays on your hips.
He moves down your body kissing just below your belly button, while his fingers pull down and toss aside the soaked fabric. 
His eyes hadn't left yours throughout the whole process, he was enamored by you. When he lowers his head between your legs, your teeth fall upon your lip with anticipation.
His hands roam along your thighs before lifting them, and splaying his hands along the backs. You were spread on display for him, more than you already were before.
"Such a pretty pussy" 
The warmth of his breath right above your cunt makes you squirm. His firm hold on you doesn't allow for more than the small movement. 
A moan falls from your lips, when his tongue slides along your slit, his tongue barely brushing against your clit. 
"This ok baby?" 
A whine pushes from your mouth as he slowly curls his tongue against your most sensitive spot. 
"Mhmm. Please buck."
He loves the sounds you make for him. That specific plea does it for him in the moment, pushing him over the edge to the point where he’s ravenous. 
His head burrows into your drenched cunt, and the way he manipulates your body yanks a cry from you.
"Oh buck" your head flings back into the pillow.
Your fingers bunch onto the silky sheets, as he laps at you with intense focus.
Amidst your bliss, you could hear the lewd sounds of your arousal and you could feel it dripping down your crease. The sound of his moans, as he ate you so greedily, blended with yours.
Due to your inebriation, you feel so much more sensitive now than you had ever before. Your hand flies to grip his dark locs at an almost overwhelming sense of pleasure.
"Please, just like that buck." You wrathe against him as your body temperature increases.
The feeling of digits plunging into your leaking hole rips a moan from you. He sets a sweet pace, thrusting deep while the tips of his fingers brush against your sweet spot. It was overwhelming. 
You were practically sucking his fingers in which spurs him on with enthusiasm, suckling and toying at your clit. 
In a blur full of ecstasy and pleasure, your walls contract around his fingers as you grip his hair tight letting out a sob of release.
His pace persists all the way through your orgasm, resulting in your legs quaking in his hold. His fingers stall inside of you, but your walls continue to flutter.
He gives you another swipe with his tongue, then peaks up to look at you. He licks your slick from his lips as his thumb caress at your thigh. He basks in the fucked out expression written all over your face.
"Are you satisfied, or do you want some more doll?"
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Notes: in my head this ends with him eating her out til he thinks she's sober enough for him to fuck her, however writing smut kills me so i leave it to imagination
reblogs, replies, asks, and dms are highly encouraged!♡
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buckets-and-trees · 1 year
Text
SALT (Bucky x Reader)
Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: mostly-dark!mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: 2.8k  Summary: True achievement in the restaurant industry requires a relentless drive. No compromises. You've risen through the ranks, and when your mentor retires, you're rightly given the mantle of executive chef at Devour. On your night of ascension, the dining room is packed, and among the guests is someone equally as relentless to get what he wants.
Content Warnings: imbalanced power dynamics, bribery, workplace manipulation, NON/DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit language, risk of being caught, food play, knife play, nipple/breast play, vaginal fingering, forced orgasm, edging, unprotected vaginal intercourse, non-graphic cream pie (not the food kind)
Additional Notes: Written for @the-slumberparty's April Mob AU challenge. Using dark prompt #23 (bolded in the dialogue).
tagging some peeps who showed interest in the preview for this little thing: @sidepartskinnyjeans @vonalyn @winterslove1917
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“You’re not serious, Stanley.”
“I am.”
You laughed and shook your head. “Sure. Whatever. I don’t have time for customer meet and greets during a normal service, let alone tonight of all nights.”
“You will do it,” Stanley insisted, “because it’s James Barnes and he’s got more money and influence than any god. He owns the mob scene in this town.”
When your maître d’ didn’t say anything more, you turned to truly look at him. 
You frowned but set down your pan with a huff. “Fine. Charlie, take over while I apparently go make an appearance.”
“Table twenty-seven,” Stanley said, handing you a clean dish towel, which you pressed against your forehead, cheeks, and neck as you headed for the door that led from kitchen to dining area, tossing the towel in the laundry bin under one of the counters. 
You pushed past the kitchen doors and walked through the dining room towards table twenty-seven, one of the handful booths and tables nestled in small alcoves that offered a little more privacy for VIP reservations, set off on a small dais with walls of green plants strategically placed to create ambience while sectioning off the area from curious eyes and a plethora of potential phone cameras. 
There were five individuals seated around the table, but he drew your attention first as you approached. He clocked your progress before any of his companions, and when he looked up, his stare fixed on you with such intensity that you took a brief pause before your next step, which he clearly noted, and the corner of his mouth ticked up in the slightest smirk. It made your blood heat with irritation, but you focused on remaining calm and professional as you stepped up to the table. 
“This was an exquisite meal, Chef,” he said, drawing the attention of his companions to you immediately.
“Thank you,” you replied. 
“Sam here hasn’t been able to shut up about it since the first course came out,” a blonde man sitting to his right said. 
“And you haven’t left even a crumb on your plate through any course, Steve,” he chided back good naturedly. 
Each of them had a girl tucked in next to them, but not the man with dark hair and steel blue eyes you still found it difficult to look away from who had to be the infamous James. His friends and their companions continued to rave for another minute or two about different parts of the meal’s courses. You expected them to be closer to the age of your parents, not much nearer yours. 
“Well, thank you again,” you finally said. “We’re pleased to have you dining at our restaurant tonight. Devour is a dream for all of us on the staff. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the kitchen to oversee final preparations for the dessert course.”
“I’m eager for what’s to come next, Chef,” he said, looking you up and down, his eyes darkening. You’d delivered the overture for your exit, but he somehow made it clear it was only with his approval that you would leave in that moment. 
Twenty minutes later, you sprinkled a touch of flaky salt over the ribbon of whiskey-laced caramel drizzled over the chocolate mousse, Charlie adorned it with a perfect rosette of the Chantilly cream, and you slid the final plate across to Stanley, who put it on the final tray and sent the waiter on his way. 
“That’s service, everyone!” you announced, and some of the staff clapped and whooped. 
You smiled, truly satisfied. Charlie bumped elbows with you, and when you turned your head to look at him, you couldn’t help the genuine smile bursting across your face. 
“Truly a triumph for you taking over,” Stanley said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“You’ve more than earned your new title as the executive chef of Devour and this kitch–“
He was cut off as there was a burst of activity at the doors coming in from the dining room. “Everyone, clear the kitchen! Out the back, please,” came a booming voice that you’d heard speak much more congenially earlier in the dining room. It was clear this man was used to giving orders and having them followed without question. 
“Excuse me,” Stanley turned to look, but on seeing who was sweeping in and ushering his staff out before him, but his tone shifted when he saw who was giving the orders – now guarded but polite, “Oh, Mr. Rogers.”
“And if I could have a word with you in particular,” Steve said, addressing Stanley and nodding towards the back. 
“Of course,” he responded.
You and Stanley exchanged a glance, and you began clearing out with the rest, but Steve put a hand on your shoulder. “Not you,” he said a little more quietly. “You stay here.”
You frowned and tilted your head as you looked up at him. He only smirked at you. 
“The rest of you, keep it moving, let’s go!”
You chewed on your bottom lip and let your hand drop to the silver surface of the counter where your fingers immediately began to drum impatiently. After a moment you turned to look over at the door to the dining room, and your breath hitched. 
He was there, leaning up against the door frame, blue eyes fixed on you. 
His face was unreadable, and so you tried to keep your face blank as well as he stalked toward you, coming around the plating area and to your side of the counter. 
“What is this, Mr. Barnes?”
“I’m buying this restaurant. Steve’s arranging everything with Stanley right now.”
Your brow furrowed.
“I own this kitchen, and I own you, Chef.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but he put two fingers to your lips. 
“I’m tripling your salary,” he said as he stepped right into your space, backing you up against the counter, only a breath of space between you. 
Your heart was racing for too many reasons – anger, incredulity, but also a thrill of arousal. You wanted to refuse him, but he also drew you in, and you could not deny that. You knew he was dangerous, you were infuriated by his audacity, and yet…
“You can’t turn down an offer like that,” he continued, “especially not after the years of hard work I know you put in for the executive chef apron in this kitchen. Our stories are not so different in that way. You earned this. You won’t walk away.” 
“I can–“
“But you won’t,” he cut over you. You glowered, but he ignored your slow burning anger and instead reached around behind your back to tug at the ties of your apron. Then his voice dropped down an octave as he spoke again, “Don’t fight me. You will give yourself to me.”
“I won’t.” You cocked your chin up.
“You will,” he insisted. He pulled the black apron away from your body and tossed it onto the counter behind you.
“You will give yourself to me now.” He pushed forward, pinning you to the counter with his pelvis. You tried to suppress a shaky exhale, feeling his erection pressing into you.  “Soon you will warm my bed,” he bent his head down to ghost a kiss at your temple, then another on your cheek, before he moved his mouth further down and murmured his next threat down the column of your throat, “and I promise it won’t be long until you will beg for me to take you apart without any coercion.”
When his tongue darted out over the sensitive spot just under your jaw, a whimper escaped from your chest before you could stop it, and you felt him smile against your skin. 
You squeezed your eyes shut. “Please, anyone could catch us.”
He chuckled. “Sam and Steve are preventing that,” he said, pulling away just enough to start unbuttoning your black chef’s jacket. “But,” he continued, “if you make too much noise, you’ll confirm that we’re doing anything more than talking.” 
Once he had finished with all the buttons, he pushed the coat open. Your eyes were still closed until you felt the cool edge of a knife on your sternum, and your eyes burst open again, fear and adrenaline rushing through your body, but luckily he wasn’t looking at your face, focused instead on your chest where his metal fingers skimmed lightly over the bared skin for just a moment before they gripped the fabric of your black camisole and bra while his other hand tore his knife down in a swift movement, splitting your undergarments down the middle, putting your chest on full display for his hungry eyes. He pushed the clothing out of the way fully only over your left shoulder. 
He lifted his gaze to meet your eyes again. “Dessert was exquisite, but it didn’t satisfy what I wanted.”
He reached for a nearby saucepan, which still had a ladle in it, and smiled as he gave it a stir. You watched as he took a scoop of the caramel sauce and poured a little over the round swell of your breast. It was warm, and started to slowly spread, but not enough to drip and make a mess. You imagined in his line of work, he knew how to be precise, not leave anything extra to clean up. He set the pan back down on the counter, and then reached for something else, returning with a pinch of the flaky salt that he then sprinkled over the caramel. 
For a moment he merely admired his handiwork. then his warm hand came up to cup the underside of your breast, and then his mouth descended to lap up the salted caramel from your tender flesh. Heat bloomed across your chest and straight to your head and your core, his ministrations eliciting a low moan from you. He hummed in approval, then took your nipple into his mouth. Your nipples were always very sensitive, and he was not careful with his attention there, sucking, nipping, and licking until you whimpered and tried to push him away. He kept mouthing painfully at your nipple another moment longer. 
He leaned back for a moment to look own at you, scrutinizing your face. You were not sure what he saw there, truthfully you didn’t know how to feel and what front to put up, but whatever he assessed didn’t deter him. 
He lifted one hand to your neck and then trailed the back of his fingers down your sternum, between your breasts, over your stomach, a light touch that wasn’t rushed, knowing he could draw a shiver of anticipation from you with the purposeful action. He unbuttoned your pants, and as he slipped his hand into your panties and cupped your mound, he leaned in close to your ear and softly said, “You earned this, too, Chef.”
His fingers sought your folds. “And you are wet for me.” You didn’t need to see his face to imagine the satisfaction that must be there – it was evident in his tone. His breath was hot on the shell of your ear. “Close like this,” he whispered, “I’ll still hear even the small pretty noises I’m going to draw from you with my fingers in your cunt.”
And even though you were expecting it – dreading it? – you gasped when he quickly thrust two fingers inside you, knuckles deep, and moved them expertly in and out of your tight heat, questing and quickly finding the sensitive spongy spot on the front of your pelvic wall. You bit your lip to keep keening as quiet as you could, and your arms gripped his biceps, looking for an anchor to reality. He played your pussy quickly, nimble and knowing fingers familiarizing themselves too easily with your body for your comfort. 
His thumb went to work expertly drawing tight circles over your clit, still thrusting his fingers inside you, and the additional stimulation forced you into an intense orgasm you didn’t want to give him, burrowing your face into his neck to smother your small cry of ecstasy. 
You didn’t want to see his face – undoubtedly haughty knowing he’s pleased you despite you wanting to refuse him the satisfaction – and in this you are spared at least for the moment as without pretense he abruptly spins you around and tugs your pants and underwear down your thighs. You heard the quick unbuckling of his belt and unzipping of his pants as he freed his hard length. You had only a second to brace yourself against the countertop as he gripped your hip with one hand and used his other to guide his tip to your thoroughly slick and ready opening. One full and quick thrust had him fully sheathed inside you, punching the air from your lungs. He leaned forward against your back, his mouth close to your ear again. “Feel me in there? Stretching you to the limit.” 
He rolled his hips ever so slightly, slowly, and your head fell back against his shoulder.
“Yes, Chef. Just like that.”
He pulled his hips back, then gave another slow and powerful drive into your cunt. “Feel as smooth and velvety around my cock as that caramel sauce was on my tongue.” While one hand remained on your hip, as he began to pick up the pace with his thrusts his other hand brushed up your spine, then moved around to grasp your breast, the one he’d overstimulated just a few minutes before. You whimpered and tried to jerk away, but you’re met with his strong chest up against your back. He chuckled and then began to tweak and roll the nipple between his fingers. 
You tried to pull his hand away, still whimpering. 
“I intend to leave you feeling me for days from this, Chef,” he growls in your ear. His thrusts become rougher, faster, slamming into you over and over again. Your hands pulled at his wrist torturing your nipple, but your strength was nothing to his, and soon tears were spilling down your cheeks. When an audible sob escaped your throat, he finally relented and released your breast, but then he gripped your hips with both hands, showing no mercy for your pussy as he chased his own pleasure. 
Without the pain, your body focused only on the pleasure mounting in your core now. This felt good. He felt good. His cock filled you exquisitely. You tried to rock your hips just slightly to where you know he’d hit that pleasurable spot in you again, but he controlled the movement and forced you to stay at the angle he wanted. 
“This one is for me, Chef, not you,” he grunted. 
Still, you pant together, lungs heaving, and you’re hurtling toward another orgasm. His hips stutter for a moment, and with a groan he releases his spend inside you, slowing his movements. 
You couldn’t hold back a needy whine as he pulled out of you. You looked over your shoulder at him incredulously, edged to the very moment before but then denied your second release. 
He paused after tucking his softening cock back into his boxer briefs and gripped your chin, demanding an abrasive kiss from your lips. “When you come apart on my cock, I want to watch your beautiful face and hear you beg for me.”
Years in the kitchen have taught you to hold back your words when there’s even a shade of uncertainty, and you are uncertain if you will give him what he wants or not, because you can’t deny that your body absolutely wants him, and part of your spirit does, too. Relentless power recognizing another like its own, and you hate that you’re more than a little intrigued. You don’t want to just give him what he wants, but a tiny sliver of you whispers that you shouldn’t cut off your nose just to spite him. 
You pulled up your pants while you heard him zip and buckle his own pants again. One he had tucked in his shirt, again with swift precision, he turned you back around to face him. He reached for your apron, wiped his hands, then set it back on the counter. He didn’t mess with your torn shirt and bra other than to adjust them well enough so he could close your chef coat and button that back up over your chest. 
He gazed right into your eyes again, brushing his thumb over your lips, parting them slightly, then pushing them closed again. 
“I’ll be back for more soon,” he finally said, then walked away without another word. 
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Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
LINK TO PART TWO: FAT
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navybrat817 · 5 months
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A Hero's Reward
Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky is a hero and every hero deserves a reward.
Word Count: Almost 500
Warnings: Implied NONCON/DUBCON, kidnapping, dark Avengers, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: The Basement Spouses Writing Challenge Week 5! Character: Bucky Barnes. Length: 200-500 words. Prompt: "Wherever you go and whatever you do, all you will feel is me." ❤️ @krirebr , thank you for chatting me about this and everyone should check out What You Can Do For Your Country. Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
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Heroes were meant to make the world a better place. They exemplified courage, resilience, and determination while serving as living embodiments of values and ideals that many admired. They offered protection and safety. And you were lucky enough to live in a time with The Avengers, the self-proclaimed world's mightiest heroes who saved the Earth time and time again.
But no one liked to talk about the burden placed on their shoulders. Or that they had their own needs outside of the fight. So what did the heroes take for their reward? Whatever they wanted.
Bucky Barnes, also known as The Winter Soldier, only wanted one thing.
You.
“Look at me,” he ordered above a whisper.
You brushed a tear away as you lifted your gaze and moved back to the corner of your bed to cower. The cell Tony made was comfortable enough, but the massive size and aura of Bucky made it seem small and dark. It would never be your home. They took you from it the moment the Soldier decided he wanted you as his personal doll. You were told it was an honor and a privilege.
The same thing they told the occupants in the other cells, each one a reward chosen by the various team members.
“Bucky,” you said, your voice hoarse from your earlier screams. You managed to break free from your cell earlier that day, but the relief was temporary since you were quickly caught and dragged back. “I just want to go home, Sir. Please.”
Bucky observed you as he walked toward the bed, his icy blue eyes not leaving your trembling form for a second. “This place is only temporary. Steve and I will move you and his girl into our new home once it's ready,” he told you, brushing his metal hand along your cheek as you tried not to flinch. “Do you remember what I told you your first night here?”
“Yes,” you answered, trying to block out the memory.
You fought him. Well, you tried to. He quickly proved why he was a hero in the physical sense when he overpowered you. He then proved why he was your villain when he split you open with his cock.
“Yet you still tried to run,” he said, his voice laced with hurt and anger. “Wherever you go and whatever you do, all you will feel is me.”
A shiver of fear and anticipation ran down your spine as he straightened up and unbuckled his belt. You knew what was coming, but it didn't make it any easier. The worst part deep down was how much you liked him owning you. That was why you had to get away.
But he would never let you go.
“So let me remind you how good it feels when I'm inside you,” he said, tugging the sheet away when you tried to cover yourself. “And let's see you try and run from me by the time I'm done with you.”
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He can keep me. That's fine! Love and thanks for reading. ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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kaismasterlist · 10 months
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|| Bliss ||
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Description: What happens when a spoiled and disgraced Princess is handed off to an ex-Winter Soldier as a strategy for the royal family to be rid of her and ensure the Soldier's loyalty to them at the same time?
Pairing: Dark Ex-Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes | Brat Princess!Reader.
Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Bucky Barnes. This series contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.
Warning(s): Dark themes that vary from chapter to chapter.
Status: Complete.
Chapters:
I
II
III
IV
V
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highonmarvel · 8 months
Text
Ribs
Bucky Barnes: Mob!Bucky finds you. 18+ only.
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additional content warnings here!
CONTENT WARNING, PLEASE READ: This piece includes graphic depictions of domestic violence. Seriously, this is really dark; do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with explicit descriptions of physical and verbal abuse and rape. This is your warning. This is fucking dark. I can not stress this enough. I am fucked up.
Non Con Warning!
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What’s scarier than dating Bucky? Leaving him.
You thought with dating the most notorious mob boss in New York, the biggest danger would be his enemies, no: the biggest threat to your safety was him. When you had first met him, you hadn’t known who he was, having only moved to New York a few months prior. He was charming, and he had an air of danger about him you couldn’t help but be attracted to; you thought it would be fun, a New York bad boy, he was all mysterious. You didn’t have any friends at the time, so no one could have warned you about who he really was, and by the time you found out, you were in too deep.
Maybe him being suspiciously rich should have raised a red flag, because even the most pretentious of the wealthy don’t take a limo to a bar, but he had, that first night you met him. The loud chatter had ever so slightly dimmed when he entered the bar, but you only thought it was because he was wearing an expensive suit, and though you rolled your eyes at the flashy display, you couldn’t help but stare at him as he made his way through the room—crowds parted, everyone tried to appear that they hadn’t noticed him, but it was crystal they had. You can’t not notice a man like that.
He disappeared into a back room with two men trailing behind him, and after a few minutes emerged looking slightly disheveled, but satisfied. You tried your hardest to focus on… something else when he sat down beside you and ordered a whiskey, but that was practically impossible when everything about him was magnetic. You chanced a look at him only to find him already staring at you, blue eyes twinkling with a mischievousness you couldn’t quite place and a small smirk. He had taken you home that night.
You hadn’t fled because of his business, selfishly, you could live with the fact he hurt other people—for a while, you could live with the fact he hurt you too, because he just had you captivated. He was harsh, brutal, but could also be loving, he bent over backwards to your every desire—say the word and he’d do it.
Except when you asked him to stop.
You had to leave New York altogether, you knew; he ran the whole fucking city, there was no way you could hide from him in the kingdom he ruled. You had struggled to pick where to go next, if you had had the money, you honestly would have left the fucking continent, started a new life in Namibia or Australia or Japan or however far away from him as you could get, but for now you were restricted to the States. Was Los Angeles too big a city for him to find you, or was it too obvious? Maybe he had people there, you had no idea. Would a small town be too quiet to scream for help, or so obscure he wouldn’t even think to look there?
You settled on a random town in Colorado.
You had ditched your phone the second you could—you had had to hold onto it a bit longer in order to get around, and received many calls and angry texts, but you had tossed it into a street somewhere in Oklahoma and picked up a random brick phone just to have. You thought you were being dramatic at first, taking all these measures, but no, James Barnes is the most powerful man in New York state, more powerful than you could have imagined when you first discovered who he was. He runs everything. He always gets what he wants, and he wants you.
I’ll find you you fucking cunt.
His last text message to you before you had destroyed your phone. You didn’t doubt he could.
You cut your hair, dyed it a shade darker, and spent the first month looking over your shoulder, jumping at shadows, barely speaking to anyone, unsure of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, even from so far away you remained cautious. Picking a job was difficult; if you got an office job, could he find out through fucking white collar records or something? If you got a job in retail, would someone recognise you and alert him?
You got a job at a bookstore—fairly quiet, and the rows of shelves seemed like good enough hiding places were he to hunt you down. Hunt.
In front of the mirror, you pull up your t-shirt to examine your ribs: the bruises are starting to fade, and there’s only a dull pain when you run cold fingers over the light blue. The final reminders of the night you had feared for your life, the night you had decided you had to leave, were starting to fade.
Bucky had gotten violent many times before, but never had you feared for your life; you genuinely thought he was going to kill you.
He had come home fucking livid like you’d never seen before, and three months later you still have no clue as to why. At least when he had been drinking his blows were slightly less hard and you were sometimes (very rarely) able to outrun him and lock yourself in a bathroom for the night, but that night he was drunk purely on anger.
You were genuinely surprised he hadn’t broken your ribs; just hit after hit until you could barely breathe—you thought you’d suffocate. Turns out he had fractured your right foot, but even still you left New York limping badly, knowing if you stopped even to just get it checked out, you’d never make it out the city.
Here, in your new town, you got your foot checked out and fixed up by a friendly doctor, Dean, who you’d taken a liking to. Though it was a bit worse for wear considering you’d left it unchecked for a week, and even now you still couldn’t walk quite right, he assured you you’d make a full recovery.
Dean and you had been growing closer, and you thought he would eventually ask you out, until one day he stopped visiting you at work—usually he’d come in every Wednesday afternoon, but he hadn’t, and you couldn’t reach him online. You even went into his practice, but his assistant had said he’d just taken a camping trip. Your stomach twisted, but you left it, and took he had just gone away for a while.
Deep down, you knew.
The third Wednesday afternoon Dean hasn’t dropped it. You walk back to your place a little down; despite not knowing him well, you were really growing to like him.
You sigh, kicking off your shoes as you enter your apartment and into the pile by the door. You turn on the lights as you make your way through the small place, still limping slightly: corridor, light on; kitchen, light on; living room, light on.
You can’t even say your blood runs ice cold, more like it freezes in your veins.
Bucky is seated comfortably in your armchair, of course nursing a drink, face entirely stoic, and eyes fixated on yours, as if he had been staring at that exact spot for hours, knowing you would fall into his line of vision.
But the door was locked, you want to cry, How did he get in? No windows are broken, nothing.
“Sweetheart,” he coos as he sets his drink on the side table, “I’ve missed you.”
“Why?” is all you can muster, barely a whisper, more like a nearly silent whistle in wind, one you can only hear if you were to really strain for it, and if you knew what to listen for. Why is he here? After three fucking months, you thought (hoped) he’d just lost interest—this can’t be the first time he’s had a girl run away from him considering how he treated you. Why is he so set on this? You can only imagine it’s stubbornness and pride, not wanting to lose a prize, no matter how ill he treated it. And why you?
Of course, though, you can’t articulate any of these thoughts, you can barely even think them, can’t process them, all turning to a light buzz in your in your mind, one that could be mistaken for pure static—just absence of thought. No thoughts, all thoughts, you can’t even care about.
“Of course I missed my favourite girl,” he offers, a lopsided smirk forming on his handsome features, “Sit,” he instructs, so gently you wonder if you’ve imagined it—a very direct order (and you know he doesn’t like to be disobeyed), yet delivered in the softest manner.
The bruises on the right of your ribcage sting as you stare back at him, unmoving. Bucky never repeats himself, and he doesn’t now, seeming to overlook your defiance (though really it’s shock) as he leans forward slightly and begins speaking to you.
“You’re a smart girl, I can tell from how you really tried to cover your traces when you left, huh? You’re a smart girl, so why would you do something so stupid?”
He stands, and you stumble back with a whimper at a harsh misstep on your injured foot.
“And now you’re out here all alone… you need someone to take care of you; look at you, honey,” he gestures to your foot, and if you could get your vocal chords to work, you would scream at him that he did this.
He stalks towards you, and where the sudden adrenaline comes from, you have no idea, but you dart for the front door. He’s on you in a second, slamming your head against the door and watching you slide down. He stands over you a foot on either side of your body and looks down on you, slightly amused.
He’s pure evil.
It occurs to you the front door is locked anyway, you’re caged under him in the narrow corridor, and so you try to crawl through his legs, but he turns and grabs you by your injured foot.
You shriek in pain and desperately try to claw forward, but he tugs you back and twists harshly so you have no choice but to turn over or risk him twisting your fucking foot off.
With more strength than you’ve ever mustered, you swing your left foot up and kick him hard in the crotch. He howls in pain as he drops your foot.
“You fucking bitch!”
You scramble to stand and dart for your bedroom, hoping to climb out the window. He limps after you, and you cry out as he grabs a fistful of hair and tugs you back. You manage to stumble into the bedroom. He grips the doorway and you slam the door after him, hearing a deafening crunch and a yell behind you. You push your back against the door, planting your feet firmly in the ground and trying with all your bodyweight to keep him out, but he easily blows it in, and you fall forward.
You start screaming at him and kicking, but he catches your legs, leaving you to only pathetically wiggle underneath him. He leans down and shouts, “Shut the fuck up!” bringing down a hand you feebly attempt to grasp to stop him, but he slaps you, “You’re a fucking cunt!”
You assume you’re crying, but you can’t feel anything on your cheeks but the sting of his hand.
He drops down to his knees and straddles you easily, despite your struggling against him. He punches you in the face, his rings leaving deep cuts against your cheek. Again, and again, and again, until his knuckles are bloody from the cuts he’s left. You attempt to cough but he brings a fist down and punches your throat. You can barely gasp before he grabs your neck and pulls you up close to his face.
His voice is dangerously low as he drawls, “You’re lucky I have the decency to fuck you on the bed.” He spits in your face and slams your head back down into the floor. He gets off you and, before you can even move, kicks you in the ribs; you can feel the bruises—the healing bruises, they were healing—bloom once again against your skin, against your bones. You roll over before he grabs your left arm, twisting harshly and pulling you across the small room.
You feel your shoulder pop out of place and scream louder than you ever have in your life, an intense white hot pain shooting across your shoulder as it’s dislocated. You can’t even beg him to stop through your sobs and unbearable pain, you can’t breathe, you want to throw up.
This time, you almost wish he does kill you. You wish for him to kill you.
He pulls you up onto the bed, your shoulder blade sliding further across your nerves and sparking pain as intense as the first few seconds all over again. He tosses his suit jacket to the side as you try to sit up. He presses down hard against your injured shoulder, and you choke on your own cry, suffocating more than screaming, at this point.
He punches up from your chin and your head lolls back, your teeth hitting each other harshly, before he uses the opportunity to grasp your throat with one hand, tearing your skirt off with the other.
It’s too painful to struggle other than weakly kicking your legs, which he effortlessly ignores, maybe he doesn’t even feel it.
Mind over matter, Mind over matter, Mind over matter—
You repeat to yourself when you hear him spit in his hand and softly groan as he runs his hand up and down his cock. You don’t even know when he unbuckled his belt.
You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing; Mind over matter, mind over matter, mind over matt—
He head-buts your forehead, effectively pulling you out of your attempted mental respite. Bucky is scary; he looks down at you with wild eyes, and you hadn’t noticed blood dripping from his temple. You briefly wonder how much blood you’re covered in when he interrupts your thoughts; “Stay with me, bitch.”
“Please stop,” you finally find words rather than shrieks, your voice hoarse and words slurred, like you’ve never spoken before.
He just smiles—smiles—and then thrusts into you, stretching you open, not giving you any time to adjust to his massive length before pounding into you, beyond rough, beyond violent, he’s a fucking mad man, he’s feral. You attempt to grab onto his shoulders and pry him off but your own shoulder hinders you. You weakly punch at him with your right hand, but he doesn’t feel it, and at this point, you’re just exhausted. Throat hoarse, head aching, shoulder burning, foot in pain, and your ribs on fire.
He lets go of your throat and feels around on the bed for his jacket, pulling something out of the inner pockets.
Before you can even process it, he places his other hand over your mouth and presses something cold and metal to your knee. He fires the gun, the bullet flying from the front of your kneecap, shattering the cartilage, and resting in your flesh. He presses down harder on your mouth so your scream is completely guttural.
“Try leave me now,” he pants as she shoots out your other kneecap.
He presses the gun to the right side of your rib cage, digging into the bruises, “Next time you leave me will be in a fucking body bag.”
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Ribs (II)
841 notes · View notes
buckysburdens · 2 months
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make the pain go away
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pairing: dark!steve kemp x curvy!reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader, mention of dark!stucky x curvy!reader.
warnings: steve's raging odaxelagnia. p in v smut. mention of blood. m receiving oral. “puppy” as a pet name . 18+ only. dark dark dark. if i'm missing something that needs to be tagged, please let me know!!
words: 1378
notes: this was supposed to be a smutty steve drabble. i genuinely do not know what happened or how it turned into this. i'm not saying it's part of fawn, but it can definitely be read that way. 🫣
thank you in advance for reading. as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. let me know if you enjoyed this. 🖤
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You hiss pathetically as you feel his teeth digging into your soft thighs. Your eyes squeeze shut as you fist the sheets beneath you, doing your best to resist the urge to push at his head, to get him away. You know better. Your knees are both bent up, you feet flat on the bed as Steve lays in the space between your legs. His hands are wrapped around your thighs as he keeps you close and in place, his long fingers digging into your plush flesh as he squeezes you.
You breathe out heavily, sighing into the feeling. You can feel Steve's smirk as he hears it as a moan. God, maybe it was.
His tongue lavishes the spot where he bites before he sucks harder. He lets go after a whine escapes you and your legs twitch.
He kisses his mark on you softly, the indent of his teeth branding you. Just the way he likes. The pain twists to pleasure as he licks the bite mark, long and slow, savoring the taste of your skin. He hums his delight, his nose nuzzling along your thigh and the feeling sends a wave of arousal through you, your body tingling as heat burns under your skin.
He moves up your thigh, his tongue dragging along your sensitive flesh as he does. He is closer now to where you need him to be, but not quite there yet.
"Doing so good," he praises, voice low as his fingers tickle your thighs with his light squeeze of satisfaction.
You suck in a breath as you prepare for his next bite. You want to scream as he bites down harder this time. Your inner thighs, as sensitive as they are, are already marked from his torment. The feeling of your blood warms your skin and it could sicken you how normal that feeling has gotten.
It was scary the first time he broke skin, you had cried but Steve took care of you after. And he has every time since.
He's here to take care of you, that's what they say, that it's his job. It hurts at first, but he'll make sure you're better in the end.
Steve's teeth let go of your flesh before he licks the wound and crawls a hand closer to your cunt. You're so caught up in the pain of his marking and the pleasure of his fingers finally touching you where you need it, you stop thinking completely.
The fingers of his left hand play with your clit teasingly as his right hand holds you thigh and allows himself all the room he needs as he mouths at and kisses the marks he's left. It's primal and yet you can still feel the restraint he uses. He could tear you apart if he wanted to...if he was allowed to.
Your eyes are screwed shut as his fingers move faster and he sucks on your blemished thigh. You're not thinking as you wind a hand in his hair.
Steve moans at the feeling of you gripping onto him, but that sound is overshadowed by the deep growl that emanates from across the room.
Your eyes shoot open as a chill runs through you, goosebumps raising on your skin.
"Don't fucking touch him," Bucky barks the rule as his icy blue gaze burns you.
You let go of Steve immediately, snatching your hand back as you look over to Bucky. Your eyes are filled with your apologies and an unspoken plea for forgiveness.
He leans further back into his chair, his hands on his thighs as he sits with his legs spread wide, his eyes hard as he watches on.
You can see the tightness of his dark jeans as his own arousal is evident through the fabric.
You suddenly feel Steve tongue as he licks along your cunt, spreading your wetness with his saliva. You lips part on a startled moan but you don't dare to look away from Bucky.
He's amused now as he huffs a laugh at you. He stands slowly before he walks over to you, neither of you breaking eye contact.
Bucky bends over the bed to be face to face with you while Steve buries himself in your cunt.
"You have something you wanna say to me, sweetheart?"
You're struggling to stifle your moans as Steve eats you out, completely ravishing you. You open your mouth and a soft gasp of a moan tumbles out as you continue looking at Bucky, "I-" you inhale sharply, once again fisting the sheets rather than Steve's hair as he licks and sucks on your sensitive clit. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Bucky," you manage to get out.
Bucky pats your head, tilting his as his lips quirk up in a smirk. "I'm sure you are, puppy."
You hear the buckle of his belt as he undoes it with one hand himself, still refusing to look away from him. Then you hear the zip of his jeans before he pushes them down some. He backs away briefly as he stands up and you finally let your eyes leave his as you look down; you watch him pull his stiff cock from his pants before he pumps himself once, twice. Your thighs twitch again and your hips threaten to buck off the bed in search of more pleasure from Steve's mouth as you writhe.
"Be a good girl and show me how sorry you are while Dr. Kemp finishes your check up."
He lifts a knee onto the bed and your turn your head further to him as Steve slips two fingers into your wet pussy, paying no mind to Bucky as he enjoys himself. You move as the bed does as they both rearrange themselves. Steve pushes down his pants before lining up his throbbing cock to your tight hole.
"Open, " Bucky orders. You do as he says. Obedient, as you always are. You stick your tongue out as Bucky guides his thick cock to your mouth. Tapping his tip on your tongue before sliding into the warmth of your mouth. You moan pathetically around him as Steve finally pushes into you, your velvety walls squeezing him tight in your pleasure and earning a throaty groan from him as he rocks into you. "Still so fucking tight," he grits out, his large hands gripping your soft waist as he begins fucking into you. Slow at first, but moving faster, keeping long strokes.
You suck on Bucky's cock just the way he likes and his moans are as much a relief as they are delightful, each noise that escapes them both sending more heat to your core.
"Fuck," Bucky pants a laugh, "you've missed having two cocks inside you at once since Stevie's been away, haven't you, sweetheart?" he taunts as he holds your head. "Don't worry, doll. He'll be back soon. Then maybe we'll see how much you like getting fucked by three at once."
Your walls tighten despite yourself as you take in his words and Steve fucks into you harder, "She likes the idea already," he grunts, not holding himself back as he has his way with you.
"Yeah? You think you can take it, baby?" he asks. Bucky thrusts into your mouth to punctuate his question as you garble around his length and he holds himself there as you struggle to breathe for the moment. He finally lets up and you sputter, drool dripping from your lips and down your face as you suck in a breath before he slides back into your wet mouth, letting you lick his cock before allowing you to guide your own movements once again as you continue sucking him off.
You gingerly reach a hand up to grip the base of him, pressing on his pelvis and he groans lowly at your touch, leaning closer into you. Your tits are bouncing with Steve's thrusts as Bucky admires the way your body moves between the two of them. He grabs one of your full breasts and kneads the flesh in his hand, groping and squeezing you before he rubs his thumb over your pert nipple. He hears your moan despite his cock filling your mouth and does it again, smirking. "Always such a good pup."
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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 1 year
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Mistake
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Pairing. Dark Bucky Barnes x (female) Reader
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
SUMMARY: Rule number one in your relation - never try to leave Bucky.
WARNINGS: Violence; Toxic Relationship. 
AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.
--
His metal fingers squeeze hard against your throat, his hold unwavering even with your nails weakly clawing at him. Your eyes roll, your body desperate for air. 
Bucky clicks his tongue, faking a pout. 
“Aw, my baby can’t breathe?” he mocks you, but you can’t bring yourself to care about his tone. Not when your lungs are painfully burning, strength leaving your body at an alarming pace.
“Maybe you should have thought about that before trying to rat out on me, babe. I don’t appreciate my girl being sneaky around my back.” he growls, all hints of mockery now gone.
His grip tightens and you cough, the lack of air hitting cryptic levels as you start to hyperventilate. 
Bucky reaches closer, nuzzling your nose with his in an almost endearing gesture, one that contrasts with the evil position he has you in. 
“Never again, okay? You’re not pulling that type of shit ever again, understood?” his voice is dead serious, ignoring how you struggle. You can barely say a word but Bucky somehow understands your submission, finally releasing you.
You fall on the ground with your body completely limp, your throat burning as precious air finally fills it. 
“You better not repeat this again.” he orders, darkness looming over his face as he looks at you. 
“Cause next time, you won’t get off the hook so easily.”   
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holylulusworld · 1 year
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Little Red Riding hood lost in the woods
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Summary: You knew it was a mistake to go into the woods at night.
Written for: This is my dark and mordern interpretation of Little Red Riding Hood for @boxofbonesfic​​ 𝒪𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒰𝓅𝑜𝓃 𝒜 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒…challenge. Congratulations on your milestone again.
Square G2 filled for @allcapsbingo​​: Claim fuck 
Ship: (Alpha) Werewolf!Bucky Barnes x Omega!(LittleRedRidingHood) Reader
Tags/Warnings: angst, chasing, fear, dark!fic, werewolf trope, a/b/o, scenting, marking, mating, huge cock, dub-con, non-con due to monster fucking (yes, you heard right; we will get the big bad wolf this time), smut, unprotected sex, implied breeding kink, biting, blood, transformation, manipulation,  implied kidnapping, the reader is an adult and at age, this story is 18+ 
Words: 1,8+
A/N: Please consider I stepped out of my comfort zone and wrote something dark this time. Head the warnings and read at your own risk. Don’t like, don’t read.
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Little Red Riding Hood. 
That’s what people call you. You found it cute when you were younger, adorable even. Now that you are a grown woman, a feisty and stubborn one, it’s not adorable anymore, it’s an offense.
You’re still wearing a red hooded cloak in honor of your grandmother. She passed away some years ago, and you just can’t forget about her, or the fairytales she told you.
About wolves lurking in the dark. Finding their mates by watching, searching, and sniffing around humans. She warned you not to go into the woods after dark. You could only visit her cabin nestled deep in the woods during the daytime.
All your life you listened to her warnings. Never enter the woods after dark. All your life, until tonight. 
Grief held your heart in such a tight grip that you had to visit her cabin. 
It’s not too far from your home, and you believe nothing will happen to you if you follow the path you know by heart. The one framed with wildflowers and the sigils your grandmother carved into the trees. For protection – she always said, while mumbling words you didn’t understand.
If only you listened to her. 
Now you are on the run, chased by a man-sized beast. You only got glimpses of the beast hunting you, but it was enough to know it would kill you if you let it get closer.
“Omega,” it snarls in your direction, knowing that you are hiding behind another tree. “Come to me.”
You gasp as the large wolf-like creature stops in front of the tree. It looks directly at you for a moment. The wolf throws its head back and howls loudly.
“Go away,” you whisper more to yourself than the creature. You place your hand on the tree trunk, praying that the sigils your grandmother carved deep into the tree will protect you from the beast.
The sigils are faded, but the beast won’t get close.
“Omega.”
The wolf snarls at you. It waits and waits as you remain behind the tree. You hold your breath as it steps toward the tree. 
It whines, and you swear its features are twisted in pain for a second before the wolf steps back again. 
“No.”
“You’re mine,” it says. Or at least you believe the wolf speaks to you as it moves back. The wolf sits down, waiting patiently for you to come closer. “Come here.”
You violently shake your head. “Go away, beast,” you reply. You’re still out of breath from all the running and try to find a way to escape the wolf without running again. If there is a way.
“You’re scared,” a deep guttural noise leaves the beast’s throat. You still have no idea how you can understand its words. “Good.”
Your eyes widen as the beast stares back at you. Up close it looks even taller than before, and you know you won't stand a chance.
“Come here,” it insists.
When you don’t move a muscle, the beast stomps its forepaws on the ground. The ground shakes violently. You scream in terror as the tree protecting you from the beast splits into two halves.
All you can do is jump out of the way to avoid being hit by the tree’s branches. You land on your back, crying out in pain as the beast purrs in your direction. “I will tame you, feisty omega.”
You’re shaking in fear. Whatever the beast is after, it’s not its next snack. That wolf wants something else, so you fear.
“Go away.”
You stare at the beast, watching it tilt its head. It listens to your ragged breathing and silent whimpers. Whatever the beast in front of you is, it knows you already lost this fight.
“Go away…just go away,” you chant. “Please let this be a nightmare.”
The wolf watches you for a heartbeat, and another before howling again. This time, the beast straightens its back. It keeps its eyes on you.
It rolls his shoulders back, whining low as you hear bones crack, and muscles tear. You can’t look away, you can't run as the wolf turns into a human-like beast. 
The beast stands on its hind feet and clenches its fists. Even though it looks more human now, it’s still a beast ready to devour you.
“No.”
You stand up and go for a sprint. Panic rises in your chest as you hear the beast follow you close behind. You look over your shoulder, screaming in terror as the wolf chases you again.
Its speed is inhuman. You can’t compare. While you aimlessly run through the woods, praying you’ll find one of the trees your grandmother marked, the beast is right behind you.
“Stop now," it calls for you. “I’ll be kind to you. I won’t hurt you.” 
You keep running, but the beast won’t have it. It stomps his left hind foot again, shaking the ground. You fall to your knees and crawl away.
“These woods belong to me and my kind. Our ancients walked these grounds ages before your kind was born. Soon you will be one of us, my omega and mate.”
“Leave me alone. Please just go away,” you sniffle as you scramble to your feet. “I didn’t do anything to you.”
"I smelled you from a mile away."
He stalks toward you, chuckling darkly. “I like the cloak, take it off and put it aside. We don’t want it to get dirty when you are on your hands and knees for me. Be good, and I won't hurt you.”
You’re frozen to the spot. It feels like your body obeys the beast’s orders. “Do it now, omega.” You unclasp your cloak with stiff fingers. “Good girl. Now put it aside and come here.”
It’s a struggle not to scream as the beast pounces on you. You end up underneath the enormous beast, trembling as it's nose buries into your neck. It inhales your scent, snarling and purring as its claw-like hands rip your clothes to shreds.
“You’re mine.”
You sniffle silently as the beast manipulates your body. It runs his furry hands all over your body, as you try to let your mind wander. One of its claws pushes your upper body down and holds you to the muddy ground.
You struggle to not lose your mind. The last thing you want is to feel the beast spread your legs or his face buried in your cunt. Its long tongue teases your folds, making you whimper at the odd sensation. This monster forces you into submission with every swirl of its tongue.
“No,” you whine and scream, hoping someone stops the beast. It’s no use. The wolf slips its long tongue into your cunt, slowly fucking you with the skilled muscle. “Oh god, no. This can’t be…no.”
Its hot breath fans over your exposed ass while his tongue slides in and out of you. You have never felt so helpless before. A beast pushes its tongue inside of you, and all you can do is drool and moan.
You writhe on its tongue, hips rolling on their own as you chase a high you didn’t ask for. The beast growls against you, greedily drinking your juices when you gush over its snout.
“Good omega,” the beast purrs as you feel like in limbo. A boneless body, getting lifted by the beast. You feel it shift behind you. With its enormous, dense body, it covers your trembling form. Its fur tickles your skin as the wolf wiggles its hips. “Have all of me now.”
Your eyes snap open the moment you feel something bigger prob at your entrance. You took a big cock before, even a knot. But the thing slowly pressing into you is far from normal. “No…too much…stop.”
“You can take it, omega,” it purrs in your ear. “Take me. All of me.”
The fight is over. You must surrender. 
The beast slowly inches its way inside your body. You cry as the wide stretch is painful. It's too much of the beast, and it still pushes further in. “Almost.”
Tears spill from your eyes as the beast snaps its hips into your ass. You are entirely at the beast’s mercy. It covers your body and presses you into the ground. Its huge cock is nestled inside your body, and all you can do is let it have whatever it wants from you.
“So good.”
The beast starts to move, and it feels like it tries to be careful. It doesn’t make sense. The wolf was chasing you, and now it forced its cock inside of your body. “Relax, ‘mega,” you hear his voice turn softer. “You are doing so well for me, Y/N.”
You gasp. How can the beast rutting into you know your name? 
“How…?” you choke out a moan as the beast angles his hips, now hitting that spot making you see stars. Your vision becomes blurry as the beast on top of you starts to slam into you in abandon.
“You’re mine.”
Your body surrenders first. Your walls tighten around his thick cock, and you feel slick run down your thighs. It’s over. The beast got what it wanted and will kill you after it’s done with you. You’re sure of it.
“Mine.”
A scream tears from your throat when the beast’s teeth sink into your neck. It breaks your mating gland, growling against you as you pass out.
The last thing you feel is the blood running down your neck and its cum filling your abused cunt. “Mine…”
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You wake. It’s odd, but you wake. 
After what happened last night you didn’t expect to breathe another day. But here you are sleeping on a soft mattress.
“You’re awake, good.”
Your eyes widen in shock. You recognize the voice from last night, but it's not the wolf standing in front of you. It’s one of your regulars from your library.
He often comes to town to borrow books. His name is James or Bucky. 
“What?”
“You must be very confused,” he bares his pearl-white teeth while speaking to show off dominance. “You will adapt soon, doll. I had to mark you before anyone else got the chance. You were ripe for harvest and I’m alpha prime, the one who can choose his mate first.”
“I-I don’t understand,” you whisper as you touch your neck. There is a scar in form of human teeth, but nothing else. “What happened…it must’ve been a dream.”
“Not a dream.”
Bucky morphs his face. 
“No! No!” you scream as the beast looks back at you. “This can’t be…why?”
“Because you are mine and this is your new life. You never have to go back to town ever again. Soon my pups will grow in your belly. We are going to be a big happy family.”
Your blood runs cold as you press your hand to your belly. ��No…no…”
“If we didn’t make it this time,” he grins wolfishly, “I love trying…”
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I won’t do tags for this story because it’s a dark story. I don’t want anyone to read a story which isn’t their cup of tea.
1K notes · View notes
Note
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Pairing: Softdark!Mafia Bucky x Reader
CW: Implied kidnapping.
AN: Early mafia monday preview.
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You're leaving for work one day to find your former boss waiting outside your place. It's been three weeks since you quit being his assistant and started at the coffee shop.
He doesn't say a word. Just stares at you, an unreadable gaze in his searing blue eyes. It's the same one you'd see day after day as you sat outside his office. He always seemed to be watching you. Waiting for something. Waiting for you. Twisting the toothpick nestled between his lips, he gestures for you to come closer.
Instinctively you take a step back. Bucky laughs, a smooth, rich sound with an edge of darkness that sends a chill down your spine. It teeters between rage and amusement, the dichotomy sends your racing heart into a whirlwind. "Get in the car."
"No, I—I have a ride," you stammer, clutching your purse to your chest. "Thank you though."
Its an attempt to soften your refusal.
A poor one judging by his raised brow.
"I don't believe I asked," he dryly intones, pushing away from the car. Still toying with his toothpick as a cunning smirk eases across his lips, he opens the door. "Get in. It's your choice if you ride in the passenger seat or the trunk."
Part of you knew he let you go too easily. No one else has ever been allowed to simply resign the way you did.
"Bucky. I—no I, " you swallow down your whimper but he hears it. His gaze darkens at the sound and he starts towards you. You inhale deeply, mustering up a courage you don’t actually have. "I need to go to work. People are expecting me."
He laughs again, as if he knows something you don't. He does. You'll find out soon enough.
"I took care of that. In fact, I had plenty of time since you left me, kisa," —the sweet endearment wraps around you, his deepening tone keeping you in place.—"to take care of a lot things. And now you dont have to worry about anything or anyone. Except me of course," he responds, stopping in front of you.
Bucky misses you, it's a foreign feeling for the mobster. He's never been denied a single thing in his life. So why should he start now?
One large hand grabs your chin, forcing your face up until you're staring into his cold blue eyes. "I'm going to give you one more chance. Passenger or truck?"
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buckyscombatboots · 1 year
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Monstertober Day 8
Careful what you wish for 🕯
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Pairing: Incubus!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Initial Somnophilia, dub con, kind of rape, insults/degrading language, biting, scratching, marking, mentions of blood, womb tattoo/sigil, dumbification, aphrodisiac, vibrator, p in v, overstimulation, cunnilingus, demon summoning, beefy!bucky, condescending!Bucky, dark!bucky, praise, fluff
Nicknames: Angel, Doll, sweetness
Word count: 2.5k
A/N: I’m so sorry this is late, I was extremely busy on Halloween with teacher training and university work. But this concludes Monstertober, I have some exciting things planned for November.
༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫༺
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Candles…You look around your floor surrounded by heaps of softly glowing candles, their flames waning and brightening again and again as the flame danced in the draft of your room. “Check.” you murmured, casting your eyes back to the grimoire’s aged pages; squinting in the darkness of your room trying to see the faded ink more clearly “stupidly complicated pentagram that took me multiple attempts and almost two hours to draw. Check.” You huffed glaring down at the pentagram drawn in white chalk on your floor, the edges smudged ever so slightly from where you’d repeatedly rubbed it away, only to redraw it wrong again. “An offering.” The book had not specified the offering that you had to provide for the demon, it simply said offering in intricate calligraphy “,how very helpful.” Grumbling you crouched to your knees, placing the grimoire down and scooping up your pile of “offerings” depositing them at random in a small circle inside your pentagram. Your offerings, if you could even call them that, consisted of a some loose change you’d found under and behind furniture, some candies you had lying around from halloween that the children hadn’t taken, a lock of your hair and a deeply personal item—which was the only clear instruction in the list, and you had chosen your trusty pink vibrator. Looking at the pink vibe on the floor made you want to crawl out of your skin in embarrassment, but it made the most sense since it was very deeply personal.
You picked the book back up and seated yourself in the centre of the summoning circle, you could feel your heart rate spike as you glanced down at the page for the summoning words. Your hands shook, palms growing cold and sweaty as you began “Heed my call, hear my cry may it lead you to me from your realm far away. I command you to my side so that we may make a contract.” You bite down on your finger drawing blood and swipe it across the floor “See me now and let me see you.” You blow out the candles around you and wait. You gulp as you sit cross legged in the dark, waiting. The sound of your breathing and your blood rushing makes the silence unbearable.
Nothing happens.
After sitting there for five minutes, you climb to your feet defeated. Tears on your waterline as you throw the book to the floor and flop into bed. You felt so stupid for even thinking that something like that would work, you feel the full weight of your adrenaline rush crashing to ground as curl under your covers rocking yourself to sleep s you mentally prepare for the rent payment tomorrow.
The blown out candles relight simultaneously as he steps out of the red swirling portal “You called?” He looked down expecting to see the person who summoned him, but he found the chalk pentagram staring back at him. He bends down, picking up the book you’d thrown harshly to the floor with a frown. He dusts off the grimoire, tracing the embossing in the leather cover with his blackened fingers, turning down the heat of his brimstone skin so the book doesn't burn. From the corner of his eye he catches your body shifting under the covers. He sets the grimoire gently on your chest of drawers and pads over to your bed “Wake up my little sleeping Angel.” He whispers in a gravelly tone, forming an ‘o’ with his reddened lips and blowing a stream of cold air against your ear lobe making you stir. He seats himself on the edge of your bed trailing his hand across your sleeping form “You’re wearing too much for my liking. Let me help you with that.” He threw the covers off of you and turned you more on to your back so he could peel your baggy shirt off, moving as quiet as a mouse. You were left only in a pair of panties, your comfortable pair that you wore when you knew no one would be seeing them, Bucky smiled at them thumbing the fabric adoringly. He ran his fingers across the middle of your panties till a soaking crease was visible. “Already so horny for me, naughty little human.” Bucky pulled down your panties, taking them into his hand to see the clear, sticky proof of your arousal. He tossed the panties already able to smell the thick scent of your arousal, he knew he had to taste you. He dipped his head down, running his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste of you. He decided there and then he was going to claim you as his. He sucked on his fingers, getting them wet, before inserting them inside of you. Your walls drew him in, clamping so tightly around his fingers that he could barely move them. His hardened cock twitched as he imagined sliding into you, pounding you awake watching as your pleasured cries turned into pleas for him to stop. He had to stop a wicked grin from spreading across his lips. “You’ve been neglected for so long, Pet. Bucky’s gonna change that don’t you worry sweetheart. Who would neglect such a pretty pussy, so fucking tight.” His fingers start to glide through your spasming walls as they adjust to the thickness of his fingers. He targets the spongy spot inside you, debaucherous wet sounds filing the sleepy silence of your room. He paused as a soft mewl left your lips, your body shifting and your fisted hands tightening their hold on your pillow. He continued his ministrations even as your eyes fluttered open and you finally came to, your pleasured babbling pausing. You stared, horrified at the man sitting at the edge of your bed. Your eyes travelled up to the black horns on his head that looked like a ram's horns then down his red eyed that even in the darkness stuck out like a sore thumb, they shone like road studs in headlights stealing your attention before he opened his mouth displaying sharp, white teeth “Thanks for summoning me, Angel. I can see why you needed an incubus. You seem to be very pent up, but I can fix that for you.” His deep melodic voice made the initial stress you felt drift far away. You gaze drops downwards following the muscle of his neck down to the imposing bulk of his shoulders and arms, the rise and fall of his burly chest becoming hypnotising as his scent reaches your nostrils a mix of myrrh and musk that has your head swimming making you completely forget what he said. The feel of his rough palm cupping your cheek anchors you “I said, thank you for summoning me, Angel.”
“I didn’t summon an incubus. You- You have the wrong house.”
“No need to be coy. It’s fine to need a bit of help.”
“No, I genuinely didn’t summon an incubus. I wanted to Summon a demon that could help me. I'm working two jobs, I’m exhausted, the cost of everything is rising and I just can’t anymore. I'm running myself into the ground. I must have summoned the wrong type of demon.”
“Ah, that's Ari’s department. I’d contact him, but he’s a bit busy with a few cultists. So I guess you’re stuck with me for the time being, but I can help you in a different way, Doll.” His other hand reaches to the side of him and heat floods your cheeks as your eyes lock on the pink vibrator he has between his fingers. He pops it into his mouth like a hard candy and sucks it a little before spitting it back into his palm, pressing the button to turn it on “Nice and ready for you.” He chides, slipping his fingers out of your tight heat replacing the emptiness with the warmed, whirling vibrator. You feel your stomach constrict in pleasure as he guides the pink bullet in further with his fingers, positioning it right against your sweet spot. Shooting you a knowing smile as you sob your walls fluttering around his fingers as you convulse “Such a good girl for me, coming all over my fingers.” Bucky coos taking the vibe out from inside you bringing it to the head of his weeping cock moaning as he rubs it against his precum leaking slit, pumping his length with his other ashen hand “Time for you to take me sweetness.” You try to scramble away from him but he was much quicker than you, sensing your fear before it had even registered inside your brain. His warm rough palm seized your thigh pulling you back in position.
“It won’t fit! You’re going to tear me in two. Please can you just forget I summoned you.”
“Oh, Doll, that’s not how this works. You summoned me, I have duties to fulfill and in exchange for said duties I get your soul. I’m not leaving, this will not be forgotten. Regardless, you need to breathe; I’m not going to ‘tear you in two’ that sigil on your womb will make sure of it and make it pleasurable whilst I do. So calm down for me, I don’t like it when humans make my job more difficult than it has to be so behave and you’ll be rewarded.” His threats wrapped up in a sweet tone making it seem as if he wasn’t patronising you. Despite this you began to calm down, wrapping your legs around his hips and controlling your breathing. Your eyes drifted down his muscular torso, focusing on the intricate tattoo like patterns on his skin to relax your mind. The tattoos brought you down to the deep ‘v’ line of his pelvis and back to his veiny member which he was prodding to your entrance. You were pulled out of the trace-like state that his prominent veins had put you in, as he bottomed out in you until your walls were stretched taut around his meaty shaft. He stays still until the burn subsides, watching as your eyes gain a hazy, spaced out glaze and your mouth drops open in an inaudible moan. He pulls out and thrusts so hard into you that your bed scoots under the force, the sound of skin slapping skin echos through your small room as Bucky snaps his hips into you pushing himself deeper and deeper each time, his movements are slow yet rough making you feel every inch of him as he fucks into your tight heat. A surge of heat spread all the way from your hips to the sole of your feet and the tips of your fingers, you felt almost drunk on pleasure, every single thrust of his hips renewing the heat. Your whole body tingles as he presses the vibrator to your clit “God!” You scream as your legs wrapped around his waist begin to shake.
“Oh no sweet little Angel, God isn’t here. In this room, right now, I am your God. You worship me. I give you pleasure.” He purrs, swirling the vibe on your pulsing pearl as he angles the tip of his cock to hit your sweet spot over an over, drawing the orgasm building inside of you to the surface making you cum with a whimpering cry.
The sound of your blood rushing in your ears filled your senses as you came down from your high, even as you came back to your senses you felt much more distanced from reality; your body felt as if it was submerged in a warm bath, and slowly but surely you were sinking below the water. Your break was cut short by Bucky continuing his thrusts, his hand pressing the vibrator to your now throbbing clit didn’t budge—he instead pushed down more harshly on your clit making your legs quake uncontrollably “Hnng! Please!” Was all you could force out before your tongue became useless, lolling out of your mouth. You came again with a shout, clawing Bucky’s back with your nails as you threw your head back into the pillow, your back arching even further into the air. You came so hard you forgot how to breathe, a heavy weight crushing your chest, as you slumped back into the mattress trying your hardest to breathe Bucky finally removed the vibe from your raw little nub. His palm flattened against your stomach where the sigil was placed rubbing a slow circle that set your nerves on fire, before he brought his hand up to the bulge in your stomach and pressed harshly with his thumb tearing a whimper from your throat.
“Fuck you can see me inside of you, Angel. I’m all up in your guts rearranging them. Turning you into the perfect little cock sleeve, gonna make sure I ruin you for any other man. Oh wait, you won't be taking any other man after me. Because; You. Belong. To. Me.” Her punctuated every word with a rough thrust, bashing your cervix which would usually hurt but whatever he did gave you a supreme, otherworldly amount of pleasure “the sigil is almost full, one more orgasm and my seed should be enough to fill it. Do you think you can take it?” He questions a small smile gracing his lips as he awaits your answer, but all you can do is mumble “So fucked out that you can’t even form a sentence, your heads probably so empty right now, my little fuck doll. It’s okay, you don’t need to think, Angel, let me do that for you; can’t expect a dumb little human like you who can’t even read the pages of a very clear, simple book correctly.” His hand slithers up your body towards your neck, wrapping around your throat before he starts to apply pressure—observing as your body begins to melt into the mattress. His thrusts continued and paired with the lack of oxygen bright flashes of white flicker across your vision. All your nerves began to thrum as you felt another orgasm coming, your wall clamped around him as you got closer to the edge. You could feel his cock twitching inside you, he released your neck allowing air to flow back into your lungs as he dipped his head down to your shoulder inking his teeth into your skin. The overwhelming sensations of lightheadedness, pleasure and pain threw your senses into orbit as you came your pussy squeezing his cock as you raked your nails across his back hard enough to draw blood. Bucky gave a few more weak, uncoordinated thrusts before he painted your insides with a wanton moan gripping the pillow hard enough for it to tear. You could barely comprehend your surroundings, you felt as if you were made of air and if Bucky let go of you you’d dissipate. Your heart hammered against your rib cage, as you stared up at Bucky’s handsome face; his sweat darkened hair glued to his forehead. He let out a chuckle, his hand caressing the sigil at your womb “Happy Halloween, Angel. This is the last one you’ll ever have to spend alone. The contract has been made and now, you belong to me. Forever.”
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straywords · 1 year
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In The Mountains - Masterlist
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Dark! Steve Rogers x Reader x Dark! Bucky Barnes
Your vacation with your friends at a Swiss chalet is disrupted by your fateful encounter with two strangers.
Warnings: N0N-C0N, unhealthy friendships, loss of virginity, kidnapping
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Kisses and Chocolates (Valentine’s day drabble)
Bucky and Steve’s POV
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I do not have a taglist but you can follow @straytales to keep up with my updates.
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nickfowlerrr · 9 months
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whatever he wants
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pairing: darkish!bucky barnes x (gray?)curvy!reader
warnings: 18+ only. smut. tiny hint of voyeurism. uhhh this isn’t really dark but it’s not not dark either… so idk. if there’s something i’m missing pls lmk.
words: 3.4k
notes: smutty little part two to IOU. hope you guys like it. thank you in advance for reading and reblogging! as always, feedback and comments are more than welcome and so appreciated. please leave your thoughts, let me know what you think. 🖤
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You can’t get up.
You’ve tried three times now, and nothing. The heavy metal arm slung around your waist just. won’t. budge.
You’re about to elbow him in the ribs, the heat of his body and the hot summer air is suffocating and you need to get up - you need to breathe.
One more try and if he doesn’t move, you’re gonna make him.
You roll onto your front and his arm drops onto your back, still keeping you from leaving the bed.
You writhe and huff in annoyance, turning your face to look at him.
He’s still sleeping. Still deceptively beautiful.
You stop your wiggling for a moment as you take him in. His pouty lips, his unfairly long lashes that brush just against his cheekbones, the stubble that’s lining his perfectly sculpted jaw, and his unruly bedhead.. He looks peaceful like this. Nice. So nice, you’d never believe he could be such an absolute dick so much of the time.
You stare a bit longer, wanting to commit the moment, how beautiful and content he looks right now, to memory.
You take a deep breath and try to roll back over, but the weight of his arm makes it no easy feat.
“Bucky,” you whisper yell, not wanting your voice to carry through the rest of the cabin.
You’re sure you’re the only one awake right now; well aside from Steve.
His leaving for his morning run was what had woken you up to begin with. You’ve been laying here for fifteen minutes and you needed to get up now, but Bucky still didn’t move.
You roll your eyes and exhale heavily.
If you punch him, he’ll wake up, but he’ll be pissed. And you don’t think you wanna start your morning off dealing with his attitude.
You swear Bucky Barnes might just be the most dramatic man you’ve ever met.
If one thought he was grumpy normally, they’d be entirely unprepared for him when he was woken up by anything or anyone other than himself or his alarm.
With the one exception of you, of course. More accurately: you working his cock.
Whether it was your hand, your mouth, your cunt, what have you - it was a surefire way to make sure he woke up on the right side of the bed.
But you really aren’t in the mood right now.
Instead, you begin to wiggle under his arm again, worming your way down the bed until finally, blessedly, you get free.
You exhale with a breathy laugh as you sit up on your haunches before looking over to Bucky again.
You can tell already that your absence from where he expects you to be beside him is disturbing him. His brows furrow and then his hand is searching for you among the mess of sheets.
You watch curiously as he pats around the bed before he finally blinks open his eyes and meets your gaze.
He scowls when he recognizes you sitting up across from him.
“Don’t start,” you say as you get off the bed, “in fact, don’t say a word. Just go back to sleep, princess.”
He growls, not nearly as loud as you know he’d like, with sleep still clinging to him.
“What the fuck did I say about you calling me princess,” he gruffs.
“Said not to, if I’m not mistaken. But I like doing it, so I’m not gonna stop.”
“Til I make you,” he vaguely threatens, his voice getting darker and more clear as he wakes up fully.
“Like to see you try,” you taunt as you make your way into the bathroom.
Bucky doesn’t scare you so much anymore. Though you’ve had to learn when to stop pushing. You’ve gotten pretty damn good at reading him. Knowing when he’s entirely serious and at his limit is something you can spot nearly right away now. Since that first night all those months ago, the only times you ignore the warnings are when you’re wanting what he’d given you the first time he had you. Something more rough than normal from him. Something purely carnal. Bordering on truly depraved.. And god, he’s never failed to deliver.
You know you’ve become complicit in this whole arrangement, but you’re starting to care less and less. What can you say? A powerful, beefy, hot as hell super soldier wants you. Chose you. He’s possessively protective over you, and problematic as that can be, you find it ridiculously attractive. And the sex if fucking amazing.
Sure, he can be a dick, but he’s been less of a dick to you. And you quite enjoy the way he now directs his annoyance and anger at those he knows irk you, too.
It's not like you don't fight or argue anymore, but it's almost always resolved quite.. nicely. Who are you to complain about that?
And god, the perks being with Bucky has come with.
You never really fed into the whole “fuck your way to the top” thing, but hey, here you were.
Getting better missions, nicer gear, getting more involved with the big leagues. And though you wouldn’t say it aloud, Bucky always having your back - during missions, in meetings, coming to your defense when someone would question your input - it was nice. Sometimes it was like he was your own personal guard dog.
And you loved the way people would shrink in on themselves, making themselves sparse when you and Bucky were around. You'd never admit it, but you guys were definitely a power couple around the tower. And you were thriving.
The attention, the opportunities, the sex. If you hadn't been blackmailed into this whole thing, you wouldn't have a solitary complaint.
You’re spitting out toothpaste and putting your toothbrush away as Bucky barges into the bathroom. You look up from the sink and shoot him an annoyed glance at the unnecessary disturbance.
“Really?” you ask as he grabs his own toothbrush from its spot.
“What?” he says. You roll your eyes and brush past him to start getting dressed.
“Put on your swimsuit,” he orders as he pauses his brushing to speak.
“Why?” you’re already annoyed knowing the answer. You guys have been here on this little summer getaway for two days now, both of which you’ve successfully managed to avoid getting in the water.
It wasn’t that you were scared or couldn’t swim, no, it was nothing like that.
It was that goddamn bathing suit.
The only bathing suit you had, thanks to Bucky who went into your bags after you’d finished packing and took your other two options out.
You’d swear it was skimpier than some of your lingerie.
“We’re going swimming,” he smirks, eyeing you hungrily.
You turn with another roll of your eyes and head to the drawer that holds your swimming wear. You throw Bucky’s trunks on the bed without care and grab your suit without looking at it.
You lean in the doorway of the bathroom as Bucky washes his face off, scowling.
“Can’t we get breakfast first?”
“You can get breakfast while wearing it.”
“You get off on humiliating me, that’s it, isn’t it?”
He barks a laugh as he turns to face you, “You think this is me trying to humiliate you?”
You don’t respond as you keep your face stoic. He approaches and his large hands come around your neck, cradling the back of your head as he pulls your face closer to his. He crashes his lips to yours, the minty feel still lingering as he licks into your mouth, pushing you against the wall as he backs you up, his hands keeping your head from hitting it. You return his fervent kiss, your hands coming up to hold his forearms, despite your annoyance before he pulls away suddenly and leaves you wanting.
You lick your lips as you catch your breath and meet his eye.
“If I wanted to humiliate you, sweetheart, you’d know.”
When you’re both done getting ready for the day, you having taken your sweet time to get into the bathing suit, you slowly open the bathroom door you had shut and locked behind you nearly fifteen minutes ago.
You’re overly aware of your belly and the jiggle of your ass and thighs with each step you take.
You hate this swimsuit and you swear you’d burn it if you weren’t sure he’d take you skinny dipping should it mysteriously disappear.
The growl that emanates from Bucky when he sees you genuinely startles you and when his big hands grab you by the waist, you feel that familiar heat growing deep within you.
His hands move down to grab your ass, kneading the ample flesh he finds there as you push against him.
Your breasts are nearly spilling out of the too small cups and though the band of the thong-like bottoms can be pulled to sit high on your hips, it really does nothing to hide or cover your stomach the way you’d like. And the tropical blue color brings too much attention.
It’s not that you’re self conscious, though you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit, it’s just way too revealing for you. You hate that everyone will get to see parts of you you don’t like showing. You feel like you’re giving away parts of your privacy.
But you know Bucky doesn’t care.
As long as he’s the only one who gets to touch you, he’d happily let the world feast their eyes on you like this, show them what they’ll never have.
“This is ridiculous,” you complain for the tenth time.
“You look fuckin’ sexy,” he purrs, letting his hands run back up your body.
“Ugh,” you groan as you push him again, swiping your towel off the bed and slipping on your slides as you pass him and leave the room.
You can feel his eyes on you as he follows behind, his gaze seemingly glued to your body.
You walk downstairs quietly, still unsurprised to find no one else up. Everyone else had stayed up well into the early hours of the morning last night, drinking and chatting, playing stupid games. You and Bucky had been taking part until around midnight when he decided he was done keeping his hands to himself. He took you back to your room upstairs where you both stayed the rest of the night while the party continued on downstairs. You were grateful the loud chatting seemed to drown out your and Bucky’s moans.
You threw your things in an empty bag Nat had left on the table and then followed Bucky into the kitchen to make a quick breakfast.
You were hoping you could get out and into the lake before anyone could see you, so you hurriedly toasted some bread and sliced an avocado while Bucky made eggs. You threw everything together on a paper plate, leaving the used pan on the stove and had Bucky get water while you seasoned the food.
You had the plate in one hand and your bag in the other as Bucky carried the cooler with drinks out behind you.
It was only nine and yet the heat was already sweltering.
The perks of being at a lake house, though, is you don’t have to go far to get to the lake.
The setup from yesterday and the day before was still there as you set your stuff down in one of the big wooden loungers and then put the food down on the long table. The dock was just behind and to the right of you as you sat on the wooden bench attached to the table.
Bucky set the cooler down at the end of the table before taking a seat across from you on the opposite bench.
“You were quick to come out here.”
“Yeah, I’m praying no one sees me in this atrocity,” you say as you pick up your toast and take a bite.
He scoffs before grabbing his own piece.
You both eat fairly quickly, having been hungry from your late night activities, and soon you’re watching as Bucky strips off his tank top.
He grabs your towels and the sunscreen, handing the bottle to you and expecting you to follow him as he walks onto the dock.
You do so after taking another drink of your water and forcing yourself up.
He sits on the edge of the dock, his legs in the clear blue water as he waits for you, the towels thrown down haphazardly, ready for you to use them when you’re done swimming.
You move to sit behind him, opening the bottle and squeezing some sunscreen into your hands.
You rub it between your hands for a second before you start to apply it to Bucky’s back.
More and more until you’ve got him covered, massaging his tense muscles as you do. The groans that slip past his lips let you know he’s enjoying it.
You apply more to your hands as you run them over his shoulders and down his chest. You’re pressed right up against his back as you work. The lower your hands slip, the deeper his groans. You smile to yourself and slip one hand past the band of his trunks teasingly, running gently across the top of his pelvis before you pull away and start to work on his right arm.
“There, you’re all done,” you say as you let your hands run down his solid back once more.
You move back and Bucky brings his legs out of the water as he turns to you.
“You’re not.”
He pushes you to lay down on your towel as he moves to straddle you, the water still on his legs sending shivers across your skin.
He grabs the sunscreen and starts to deliver the same attention to you.
He’s obsessed with touching you. Your softness is his favorite thing, and as he applies the sunscreen to your exposed torso, he really takes his time feeling you, enjoying the goosebumps that raise, the tickles and shivers you try to hide. He runs his hands all over you. You’ve closed your eyes as the sun was shining in them and gasp when you feel Bucky’s hands on your breasts, squeezing them before you feel his lips on you, too. You can’t help the moan that leaves you under his attention.
“Turn over,” he says firmly and headily.
You don’t even think to not listen.
He gets more sunscreen as he covers your backsides, rubbing it in with perfect pressure. Another moan slips as he squeezes your neck with one hand, the other trailing down your spine.
And when he’s done, his fingers move to easily undo the string holding your top together, running his hands up and down your back before he leans further down and starts kissing your bare skin.
“Bucky,” you whine, stopping yourself from sitting up knowing your chest will be on complete display.
“Everyone’s sleeping, no one’s gonna see.”
You want to argue, but you can’t bring yourself to. Even if you did, he always gets his way in the end.
You feel him move the flimsy fabric covering you and you really are moving out of thoughtless desire as you bend your knees and hips up slightly before he starts prodding you with his fingers, your wetness evident as your cunt glistens.
You groan as he slips two thick digits into you, pumping his fingers in and out, curling them just right.
“Fuck,” you whimper under your breath.
You’re so lost in his touch you don’t expect it when his fingers move to part your folds open, your slick hole on display for him as he wastes no time and pushes into you with his aching cock.
You moan into the towel beneath you as he stretches your pussy.
The position is unexpectedly delightful as he hits you deeper and deeper with his every thrust.
You swear you could cry with how fucking good it feels.
“You like that baby?” he pants, “Like having this big dick inside your tight fucking pussy.”
A cry leaves you as you nod your head emphatically.
His speed picks up as his words get dirtier and you get closer and closer to the orgasm you can feel building.
You’re both sweating, Bucky more than you, as you fist the towel and groan loudly through grit teeth.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re aware anyone could come out at anytime and see, but you don’t have the will to care as Bucky keeps fucking into you, his hands tight on your hips as he uses you. Another hard thrust has you careening over the edge, moans and mewls leaving your lips as your toes curl and your walls squeeze his thick cock as you come.
Bucky doesn’t let up as he fucks you through it, hips pummeling against your ass over and over until he growls deep in his chest, his hips twitching as he let’s himself go inside you. His grunts and moans fill your ears until he eventually slows completely and pulls out, slapping your ass as he gets up.
You lay there, trying to catch your breath from a moment before you fix your bottoms and roll over, holding your top together.
“I fuckin’ hate you,” you breathe heavily.
He laughs to himself at your words as you slowly get up. He takes his time adjusting himself in his trunks before he turns on you, grabbing your face and tilting your head up in his direction. He leans down and brushes his stubbly cheek against your soft one as he speaks in your ear, “I know you fuckin’ wish you did.”
He keeps his hold on you as he turns his face and takes your lips hotly in his own. He walks you back. And back. And then grabs your loose top from your hands as you gasp, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips. He moves his hand to grab your ass as he holds you against him, your full breasts pressing against his built chest.
He walks you back once more, smiling wickedly into the kiss. Then suddenly your stomach drops as your eyes shoot open when you feel your feet leave the dock. You're under water in a second and quickly swim back up to break the surface, a scowl etched across your face as you struggle to get your breathing back.
Before you can say anything, Bucky joins you in the water, jumping in and splashing you as he does.
You fight the urge to try and hold him down as you swim to the ladder and blindly search the deck for your top. It may be skimpy, but it’s better than nothing.
Bucky’s arms circle you as he pulls you back before his large palm crawls up your chest to cup your breast. Squeezing your flesh before he starts thumbing and tweaking your nipple.
You hate that your body reacts so fucking quickly to him as you feel yourself getting horny all over again. His lips are on your neck as your ass is against him. Your eyes close as a soft moan falls from you when he moves his attention to your other breast.
The creaking of the deck has your eyes shooting open as you attempt to cover your chest. You see Steve walking up, his chest gleaming with sweat as his running shirt is held in his hands.
You want to just let yourself sink under the water but Bucky’s hold on you doesn’t loosen for a second, in fact it only grows tighter, more possessive the closer Steve gets.
“Morning, lovebirds,” Steve greets with a smirk.
You know Bucky won’t let you go so instead of struggling and bringing attention to your nakedness, you grab his hand under the water and pull his arm across your chest as you hold him there.
Bucky wears a smirk of his own as he palms your tit and feels your body’s instant reaction.
“Hey,” Bucky replies, squeezing your breast again knowingly.
Your eyes widen when you see the twitch in Steve’s shorts, his prominent bulge growing as he stares down at you two.
You risk peering up at him and meet his eye instantly as you do. You swallow thickly as you look back down, trying to keep your composure. You know he can see everything, but as long as no one acknowledges that out loud, you can at least pretend that he can’t.
And then, of course, Bucky speaks again.
“So, you enjoy the show, pal?”
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buckets-and-trees · 10 months
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"You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself."
👀👀👀
Well... as you know, this escalated quickly.
Title: Sacrificial Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Minotaur!Bucky x Botanist!Female!Reader Word Count: 3.5k
Summary: If it seems too good to be true, it always is. Always. Too bad you had to go to the remote jungles of South America to learn that lesson.
Content/Concept Warnings: DARK, lulled into a trap, human sacrifice, dubious consent/fuck or die, public sex/exhibitionism, size kink, monster fucking, face fucking/oral male receiving, vaginal fingering/fisting, breast worship, rough fucking, possessive/pet, praise kink, dirty talk, cum play, marking, cream pie, choking
Additional Notes: Thoty time with @rookthorne... she's only responsible for enabling me when my monster thirst reared its head. Wicked entry for @buckybarnesevents WEEK ONE of Hot Bucky Summer: "What Should I Wear?" and my third square of @buckybarnesbingo K1 "Fuck or Die."
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When you told your friends, family, and former colleagues about the research grant and fellowship you had been awarded in the weeks leading up to your departure that it was too perfect, clearly somewhere deep in your bones you had known.
Eighty thousand dollars a year for three years, travel covered, visa approved, fully furnished accommodations provided, and a book deal for the discoveries and research studying flora in a largely undocumented and remote part of the jungle on another continent.
No scientist got a deal like that.
The only downside was the isolation of the location. They had electricity and running water, but you would only be able to go into town for internet every few weeks.
But the part of you that had grown up watching Indiana Jones, Jurassic Park, LOST, and the deep space missions of Star Trek who had far too many plants in your apartment and in your tiny office at the university had beat back that downside. It was only three years, and after living through the strange isolation of the pandemic, you knew you could manage this where you wouldn’t be isolated from people, just for short stints from your old life.
And though you had good pieces and good people in your life, you were desperate to get away from the suffocating societal expectations you felt like you weren’t living up to while so many others around you were – marriage, kids, white picket fences, career accomplishments, tenured professorships, promotions, raises, overnight influencers, travel vloggers.
This was something no one you knew had ever done.
Everyone raved about the adventure ahead of you.
Everyone had been impressed.
You had conquered in the accomplishments department with this for the year, no question. Your older sister with her third child on the way and your younger brother and his Premiere League football contract could wallow in your shadow.
This was a golden opportunity for a research botanist still in the early years of their career.
Kneeling on the ground in the middle of the jungle with your hands folded in your lap, head bowed, surrounded by a village of people who all should have known better than to follow ancient superstitions, with a dozen or more guns trained on you in nothing more than lingerie, you were living a nightmare.
All of it had been a baited trap.
No one would even question you falling off the grid before it was too late, and even if they did, these villagers could say one day you never came back from the jungle.
And it would be true.
One afternoon and evening, a good dinner, a sleep you’d yearned for thinking it was the jet lag, and then you’d awoken screaming as the first strip of wax had been ripped from your skin to discover you were naked with a half dozen people attending to all aspects of your grooming, preparing you to be their human sacrifice for the beast that lived in the jungle.
You were past the crying and pleading.
The no WIFI had been a lie, too.
Everyone in this small village looked and acted like they lived in the present day except for this one thing.
The belief that if they did not provide the beast his human sacrifice that they would not survive his terror.
“Then why don’t you just leave?” you had implored.
“This is our home, our loved ones are here, our ancestors are part of this place, and,” their leader and the head of the research foundation paused – almost faltered before continuing to explain, “the sacrifice of one stranger will guarantee us safety for many, many years.”
Everyone else had been instructed not to speak or listen to you from that point on in the preparations.
Nails trimmed, buffed, shined. Luxurious oil that smelled delicate and heavenly rubbed over every inch of your skin from the neck down. Hair partially braided to stay out of your face with the rest left natural. Color applied to your lips. They didn’t bother with eye makeup. No jewelry.
You had been wrapped up in a linen garment that was not quite a robe but not quite a coat to be transported to the ruins of an old stone dais in the thick of the jungle but deprived of it and then pushed onto the sacrificial area, left only in the sapphire silk of a bra and panties delicately lined with lace.
After hours being poked, prodded, and prepared by strangers in a strange land in a state of dread and disbelief, you thought you were numb.
You had endured too much to think you were hallucinating, but that you now all waited illuminated by literal torches with fire made this seem almost like a season of Survivor gone horribly wrong.
But then you heard the hushed wave of whispers at the rustle and rumble of something approaching through the thick vegetation of the jungle and adrenaline shot through your veins. It didn’t inspire fight or flight. You were frozen, fixated on the beast that would finally appear and seal your fate any moment now.
It made no attempt at arriving quietly, and when it finally appeared, there were collective gasps and cries from the people gathered to watch the sacrifice, though no sound fell from your lips.
The reaction was more than warranted, and a whisper of a thought flashed through your head that you were surprised no one had screamed. Maybe they were too terrified to scream, worried they would draw the beast’s attention. You wanted to scream, but your chest was gripped in fear.
The thick, furry legs of a bull, down to the cloven hooves, and a girthy tail with a tuft of dark hair at the end, swishing slightly as he walked. There was a loincloth tied at his waist that – rather than providing modesty – inspired anyone whose gaze lingered there to imagine the bulge nudging conspicuously beneath. Not that anyone’s gaze would linger there for long, for the rest of him was altogether imposing. Only the tallest of the villagers might hope to measure up to the base of his sternum – the sternum that anchored the torso of a man with shoulders more than twice the width of a human. Skin golden from the sun stretched over muscles that burst and rippled over his chest and shoulders, extending down his arms. You could see a litany of angry scars littered up and down his left arm.
Great bull’s horns rose and curled out of his head, possibly longer than your own arms. He had a mane of long, glossy but mostly unruly brown hair, with a couple of braids, that fell past his shoulders. Though the rest of his physique inspired fear, the true terror was perhaps the face of this man beast – it was terrifyingly handsome. Strong jaw, stubbled beard, a crease between his brows, and piercing blue eyes. His expression was drawn into an ominous grin.
He was in no rush as he walked into the ring of the villagers.
“Weapons down,” he growled.
There was almost no hesitation – their purpose had been to keep you in place anyway. Though the fear in the air was palpable, the tone of it seemed to be turning to some sort of reverent fear now for everyone else.
What inspired this unquestioned obedience from an entire people? People you’d seen with smart phones as abundantly among them as any other place on earth, though you’d been advised to shut yours down and leave it behind since it would be of next to no use to you in the jungle. They were right – but had left out the true reason and made it even more believable for you to seem only cut off to those back home, not lost and gone forever.
His enormous legs took the step easily up onto the dais, and his eyes were now fixed only on you. He stopped at the foot of the altar where you were presented for him.
“Well done,” this was meant for the people and their leader.
Then he reached out and the fingers of his large hands traced the strap over your left shoulder, then along your jaw, tilting your chin to look straight up at him. “And your choice is set?”
“My – my choice?” your voice cracked, but you felt it was a miracle you even found it.
Your confusion must have been evident, as his eyes flashed with anger and her rounded on the man who had facilitated all of this. “You did not tell her anything, did you?”
“I thought it best if –“
“It is not your job to think. The thoughtlessness of your people is why we’re here at all,” he snarled. Then he turned back to you.
“No time for stories now. I’m a minotaur called Bucky; a lost soldier cursed long ago to this state. Suffice it to say II must be satiated or the village will be subjected to bloodshed and desolation in the face of my wrath. They’ve chosen you, but you can choose your fate: fuck or die. I’ll take your throat, or I’ll cut it and drink your blood in front of everyone.”
Your chest heaved in trepidation. “How is that a choice?”
“Is it not clear to you?”
“Have others chosen death?”
He nodded. “Or they refused to choose.”
You opened your mouth then closed it again.
“Do you wish to die?”
You thought your tears were spent, but you could feel them welling in your eyes. “No.”
“Then claim your choice.”
You took a shaky breath.
“Say it!” he barked.
You flinched, but managed to spit out, “Fuck.”
“Perfect. Open up.”
“In front of everyone?” your voice was barely above a whisper.
He nodded. “They will remember and mark this sacrifice. It will be the reason they continue to breathe.”
You spread your knees a part so you were still kneeling and sitting back on your heels but his to take like this.
“That’s nice but not what I meant.” He tugged his loincloth and dropped it to the ground. You whimpered, afraid of the enormous size of his cock and ashamed at the lick of heat that flared in your core at the sight of him. He leaned down closer, put a hand at the back of your neck, and slapped the side of your face with his rigid length. “You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself.”
This drew a handful of muted gasps from the onlookers. You saw a spark of something new in his eyes at this reaction.
He was pleased at their reaction.
You dropped your mouth open for him, nervous knowing you could not take all of him, embarrassed to be on such display in front of these strangers, but wanting to please him.
Wait, you thought, wanting to please him?
He shoved his cock into your wet mouth, shoving any other thoughts immediately out.
“Suck.”
You did.
“Just like that,” he said. The hand on your neck moved up to cradle and command the back of your head. He slowly began to fuck your mouth but with only a small motion, encouraging you to continue sucking just that first bit of cock as it was in your mouth. He still was in no rush. It felt like a power play – not wanting to show impatience or lack of restraint in the onset of this sacrificial claiming.
As he continued to speak now, his voice was low, intended for you. “Get ready for more.”
You looked up at him and tried to nod your head ever so slightly. He smirked, then he brought his other hand up under your jaw and to your throat, wanting to feel himself using you. He groaned and briefly closed his eyes. His tip hit the back of your mouth, and you spluttered. He pulled out slightly, giving you half a moment to recover, then forced the point again, holding himself there while you adjusted. He opened his eyes again, locking back onto yours, and a thrill of terror shot through you again. That was only the preliminary.
Now he would truly begin.
That look was all you got. Keeping the one hand at your throat, the provided the anchor to begin truly fucking your throat, not in a rush, but he picked up the pace. You placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself. Your muscles initially gagged in protest, but he persisted, stroking your throat with his fingers as well, coaxing you to relax. Tears spilled down your cheeks. You concentrated on breathing through your nose and the steady gaze he kept trained on you. Soon you were taking more of him than you thought you could. He quickened his thrusts into your mouth. Your fingers stretched into the fur on his hips, mewling as he continued to use your mouth.
A few short grunts with the last thrusts were the only hint before he came, shooting his hot spend in your mouth with an unrestrained howl that shook the crowd to their core. There was no way for you to swallow everything, but, if anything, seeing his cum spilling down your chin made him grin.
Then he raised his head to address the villagers. “Remember that you gave this human to me. I will do with her as I please, and you will never see her again. Hope that you never see me again in your lifetime,” his voice carried, his power unquestioned in the clearing. “If you are lucky, the children you left home today will not see me in their lifetimes either. All of you go now. What happens next is not for your eyes.”
They followed his instructions without hesitation, all of them eager to be gone from this cursed place and their collective and ignored shame.
They left the torches – no desire for a souvenir.
And now you were alone with him, the light of the flames flickering over every inch of your exposed skin – which was almost all your skin, the lingerie only for show.
With the hand that was still anchored at the back of your head, he roughly angled you up sharply to look directly up at him, and tipping his own head forward he loomed in all his height above you, a truly searing heat in this look. “I meant what I said: you are mine, and I will never allow those vile villagers to see you again. You’re mine to do with as I please.”
He stooped down to claim your mouth in a kiss. His large thumb brushed the remaining spend from your chin and then moved down your throat to brush it over your collar bone, rubbing it in. He pushed his tongue between your lips, and you opened your mouth for him again. His tongue was too big for your mouth, too, but the more he subjected your body to the largeness of his being, the more you seemed to seep into him. He used his tongue to wrap around and tangle with yours, stroking it with his, now and then slipping it further down your throat, teasing, choking, mimicking the actions of his cock not long before.
When you were truly gasping, he chuckled darkly and pulled away, you leaned forward, lips chasing his, and then you shook your head, trying to restore some logic.
Failing.
Bucky easily tore away your bra with his brute strength. “Lay back for me, lamb.”
You shifted, legs aching from resting on them in that kneeling position for far too long. He noted the care you took in moving your limbs and rubbed the muscles up and down a few times. Then he pulled your hips to the end of the alter, flush against his cock, which was already semi-hard again. You hummed as he pushed against your still-clothed core.
His hands moved from your thighs up your sides, stoking the desire surging through your body, moving up your waist, thumbs brushing up against the underswell of your breasts, then flicking over the nipples, bringing them to little peaks before diving down to lave one of them with his tongue and suck, rolling, twisting, and pinching the other with his hand. Then he moved his mouth, and as he latched on to the other nipple, his hands worked the lace and silk panties off your hips and down your legs before tossing them away. He rutted up against you again, slow but persistent pressure against your core again, but now with no barrier he felt your arousal slicking up your entrance. When you began working your hips against him, seeking more friction, fisting your hands into his hair, he moved a hand between your legs, stroking over your labia and pushing one of his fingers right into your cunt, making you keen immediately from the force and fullness.
“Going to ruin you, lamb, but don’t want to hurt you.” He was brutal, but only because he was a monster by nature, not because he was heartless. “Gotta work your tiny pussy open so you can take me like you were meant to.”
As before, he was patient, making up for the impatience mounting inside you as he worked his fingers into you, circling, questing, stretching, twisting. When he pushed three fingers in he could tell it was a lot, but he knew he needed you to easily receive four if he was going to get to fuck you on his cock the way he wanted. All through it, he was relentless in overwhelming you in other ways, continuing to worship your breasts, but also murmuring praises against your skin, and threatening and promising filthy things that you couldn’t even respond to.
When you were thoroughly primed, aching for him, a mess with tears and begging for him, he finally realigned his hips between your legs, forcing your thighs wide to accommodate him. He bumped the head of his cock against your throbbing clit a couple of times, making your whimper repeatedly. You were lost as you lay splayed out above him, eyes tightly shut, hands reaching for him, desperately pleading his name over and over. He bent down to you again, relishing the feel of your breasts brushing against his chest for one more moment before sinking his cock into your cunt with a brutal thrust, pushing clear to the hilt, making you scream. It was wicked, and he knew it, but also knew how much he had worked up your body and your mind, and he was rewarded as you arched beneath him, and wrapped your arms around his neck, adjusted your hips, and then rocked against him, clearly seeking more.
Holding you at the precipice of pleasure for so long meant you crashed into your first orgasm very quickly as he pushed his cock in and out of your, “tight heat, little lamb, taking me so well,” he cooed. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, shuddering as he fucked your through it, groaning at the feel of your walls around him. “No one else will ever have this cunt now,” he vowed. “You’re mine.”
“Mine,” you echoed without thinking, not knowing it was exactly how he wanted his pet to feel about him. He pushed you over the edge into another orgasm and then spilled his hot seed inside you not long after. You were beyond spent, at that point, and less than a minute after he scooped you up, tucking your legs around his waist, you dropped out of consciousness, and went totally limp. He kissed the top of your head, then shifted you to sling you over his shoulder for the trek to his lair – your home. He’d secure you there, then go back to the get the wooden crate of the belongings you had shipped ahead of you and the bag you had traveled with – both were supposed to be deposited and waiting in a cave, the final part of his negotiations for acquiring his new human from that village and their foolish leader. Humans were delicate creatures with peculiar needs, after all, and he was determined to keep you content and fucked out until you were devoted to staying with him until the end of your days.
But the last hour had exceeded even his own expectations. He suspected he wouldn’t have to try very hard to keep his little lamb.
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NEXT PART: Do You Remember
"haunting thoughts" on Sacrificial for the Dark Forest Fest
brief insight into what reader's life is like now
physical appearance of Minotaur!Bucky
easy and challenging parts of writing the fic
the writing of the story from concept to completion in one night
↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
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