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#dark Bucky Barnes
fuckandfluff · a month ago
Something Borrowed
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Pairing: dark!Bucky Barnes x innocent!reader
Word Count: 7.7k 😩 (approx 20 min read!)
Warnings: 18+, minors DNI! THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC. Please take our warnings seriously. The subject matter is very disturbing.. Dubcon, non-con, loss of virginity, kidnapping, slapping, choking, coercion, mental and emotional abuse, swearing, alcohol, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, dacryphilia, blood play, drugging, degradation, brainwashing, oral (f receiving), fingering, male masturbation, spitting
A/N: This is the entry @sableseb and I are submitting for the @basementwiveswritingchallenge (found here). This was the most fun I’ve ever had writing a fic and I’m genuinely so glad to have her as my twisted sister through and through! It’s the longest thing we’ve written so buckle up 😉 - @fuckandfluff
Tay came to me with this challenge and I couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity to collab. It just seemed right to partner up with her to create something darker. Our minds our genuinely one. It’s scary sometimes, and that’s what makes us a good team. I hope everyone enjoys this as much as we do.x - @sableseb
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Another summer has crept up on your little midwestern town, the nights growing longer as the Fourth of July grew closer. Your neighborhood association threw a block party the second Friday of every month as a way for new residents to get acquainted with the more established members of the community. That’s when you saw him: tall and muscular with chiseled features, a dusting of stubble across his sharp jaw, and a fluffy mop of chestnut locks, he was stunning.
He’d mentioned moving into your cul-de-sac just a few weeks prior, but you hadn’t noticed, too swept up in studying for end-of-semester exams. You’d assumed that a man as handsome as him surely had a family, but that assumption was wrong. Harmless neighborhood gossip had revealed that he was recently widowed, having moved here from Manhattan to escape the painful memories the city held.
You couldn’t begin to fathom what he’s been through, he held a look in his eyes that told a story of pure hurt and longing. Bucky Barnes is a mysterious man to say the least. He seems to keep to himself mostly. So seeing him there, mingling in the crowd and introducing himself amongst the community was a sight that struck a bit of bewilderment upon you.
His smile was bright, drawing people into his charming nature. You could see the women hanging onto every word that escaped those full lips. But those eyes gave him away each time. No matter how much he laughed, how much he flirted, how much he feel as though it’s just an act. An elaborate ruse to have people think he’s fine.
A toxic trait you’ve tried to work on is your inherent desire to fix broken things. And Bucky is clearly broken. One sunny afternoon, you pluck up the courage to pay him a visit with a basket of freshly baked scones in tow. His home is tucked at the end of the street, sitting quite a ways back on the property line. As you strut up the lengthy cobblestone walkway to his front door, you take in the ornate hedges framing the entire home and can’t help but think of how much privacy they must afford him. You arrive at his doorstep, knocking once, twice, before Bucky swings the large oak door open.
“Uh, hi y/n. Can I help you?” he inquired, awkwardly rubbing the nape of his neck with his calloused palm.
Those eyes - wow, had they always been that piercingly blue? Almost getting lost in them and nearly forgetting the reason for your visit, you stutter, “just wanted to bring you these!” You take a step forward and push the basket of baked goods between the two of you.
Bucky has never seen you this close up since he moved in. He always takes you in from afar, admiring the way you tend to your flowers, how you sit on your porch each morning with a cup of coffee just enjoying the coolness the morning air brings, playing with your nephews when they’d visit each weekend.
Now that you’re in his direct line of sight, he’s almost in tears. You’re gorgeous. Just like she was. You have her rounded eyes and wavy hair. The dainty hands you’re wringing together at the moment remind him of her soft touch, how her wedding ring formed around her slender finger just right. His heart clenches. Bucky loved his wife more than anything. She was his light. And now, after being engulfed in darkness for years, he stumbled upon you. You’re his hope and he’s not going to let this hope fade. He has to have you in his life.
“Would you care to come in?” Bucky’s voice is laced with a hope that you can’t deny.
“Of course,” you tell him, stomach erupting in butterflies. He’s wanting to be social with you.
As Bucky ushers you into his home, you can’t help but gawk at the countless photos adorning the walls in the narrow foyer; a wedding photo, random little snapshots of his wife looking like an absolute goddess, photos of the two of them with beaming grins plastered across their faces in front of the Eiffel Tower or some other romantic destination. You weren’t sure how long it had been since his wife had passed, but clearly the wounds must have still been fresh. All you want is to try and bring a little bit of joy to his life. It seems like he never leaves the house except to grab a load of groceries or fetch the mail. No one deserves to be this lonely.
“I didn’t mean to just invite myself over,” you shyly say, neatly tucking your ballerina flats on his doormat as he leads you to the living room, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“No need to apologize, doll. Wasn’t up to much anyway. Can I get you a drink?” He gestures for you to take a seat on the leather sectional as he ventures into the adjoining kitchen.
“Sure yeah, um, dealer’s choice!” you reply, easing into the plush leather seat.
You watch him make his way to the kitchen before turning your attention back to his living room. It’s all man. Dark hardwood flooring, a gray couch set, a sleek fireplace with a flatscreen resting above it. Bucky’s got taste. You wish your house looked as neat and clutter-free as his.
You’re drawn back to the photographs furnishing the shelves and walls. He truly looked happy. As you study his deceased wife more, you start to notice something. She looks a lot like yourself in the majority of these pictures. You suddenly feel odd, like there’s a reason for your resemblance. But you don’t dwell on it for too much longer as Bucky makes his way over to you.
Handing you a crystal highball glass filled with what looks to be cola, his large hand briefly brushes against yours and you can’t help but feel a spark. You push these unsavory thoughts back down, because the objective today was to offer friendship to Bucky, nothing more. Now was not the time to let your self-indulgent thoughts get the best of you.
“Thanks! What’s in it?” As you take your first sip, a tiny droplet dribbles down from your bottom lip. Bucky wipes the liquid from your chin with his thumb, letting out a small laugh. You feel your face heat at the contact. He’s just being nice, you remind yourself.
“It's rum and Coke.. hope that’s alright. Had to special order the rum because you can only get it in Miami,” he responds, settling into the seat adjacent to you.
As you take a more generous drink, the taste that hits your tongue is super familiar: “Florida Mermaid? I thought I was the only person in the Midwest who knew what it family goes down every year to Destin and we always bring home a bottle.” What a total coincidence that he happened to know exactly what libation you loved.
That’s how the rest of your evening went, telling stories to one another. You both talked about your childhoods, your hobbies, your favorite movies. Bucky has to be the easiest man you’ve talked to. You would have never dreamed that your silent, brooding neighbor would be talking your ear off by telling you about himself. Neither of you bring up the elephant in the room, though. But it’s there. The foreboding question of, “what happened to your wife,” hangs heavy on your tongue, not daring to interrogate him on such a matter.
You glance up at the clock hanging on the wall. It’s almost midnight and you’re still drinking and chatting. “I really should get going. Thank you for the wonderful evening, Buck.”
Buck. He knows that nickname all too well from a woman that wasn’t you. From a woman he gave his whole heart to. Bucky can feel his cock start to harden as he imagines what it’d be like to have you whimper out his name just like she did while he’s between your legs.
“Anytime. I’ll walk you to the door.”
As you both say your goodbyes, Bucky’s left alone with images of you dancing through his mind. You’re so sweet he can practically taste you without even pressing his tongue against your warm flesh. He remembers the way your lip felt against his thumb, it was so soft and glistening from the drink.
Bucky sits back down on his couch and pulls his cock free from it’s confines. He slowly strokes himself to the thought of you on your knees for him, begging for his cum, begging him to fuck your throat. He needs to act fast, he doesn’t know how much more time he can take without you.
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Nearly two weeks have passed since your visit with Bucky and he hasn’t escaped your mind. There’s a connection between the two of you that you just can’t shake. Flashes of his thumb brushing against your lip invade your thoughts daily, craving to know what his lips would feel like crashing against yours. But you don’t want to pry or poke too much - he knows where to find you if he wants another drink or maybe something more.
He’s been making himself scarce lately. In fact, he’s so swept up in some new home renovation project that he’s abandoned his grocery trips altogether and instead opts for home delivery. The only time you see him now is when he’s busy working away in his driveway.
Each afternoon you sit out on your porch, unable to keep your eyes off his chiseled physique as it glistens with pearls of sweat. A man who can use his hands is the ultimate turn-on and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander: What would those hands look like wrapped around my throat like a necklace?
You’ve thought about dropping off a glass of freshly pressed lemonade to quench his thirst as he works away on the front drive shirtless, sanding down what looks like antique furniture each afternoon. Yet you haven’t gained the courage to make the first move. Though in your second year of college, you’re still a virgin - not by way of religious conviction, but because every guy on campus just seems gross. A man like Bucky has been married already, to a gorgeous woman, you might add. He wasn’t going to be interested in a sad little virgin like you.
You sit and stew with your own musings most nights, always thinking about your neighbor. Your feelings are so jumbled when it comes to Bucky that it’s impossible to flesh out your true thoughts. He’s handsome and sweet, sure. But, there’s something else to him, something dark looming behind the lingering touches and soft smiles.
Morning comes and Bucky’s constant hammering and sawing have come to a halt. His tools aren’t even sprawled out along the concrete anymore. It’s like he was never there to begin with. Your heart seizes in your chest, you miss seeing him in nothing but his tight jeans, miss how his biceps bulge when he lifted a plank of wood, and especially how his hair and chest would dampen from the perspiration. He became part of your morning routine and he vanished just as soon as he appeared.
Curiosity gets the better of you when Bucky doesn’t show up for the town’s annual cookout on the Fourth. It’s a staple in the community each July, something you always look forward to with great enthusiasm. You’d love to experience the glittering fireworks display with Bucky in the bed of his pick-up, even just as friends. As the sky flashes bright hues of red, white, and blue, you race over to Bucky’s house to see if he’ll catch the tail end with you.
Before you’re even able to knock, Bucky greets you at the threshold of the doorway. His hand cups the small of your back, escorting you into the home with a sense of urgency.
“Sorry, I can’t stand the sound of fireworks. She - it just reminds me of gunshots,” he bemoans, a look of utter despair etched across his features.
“Don’t apologize, Bucky. Makes total sense why you wouldn’t want to be out, they can get so obnoxious sometimes,” you sympathize with him, assuming he’s making reference to his wife and her tragic demise. Rather than inquiring further and picking at the wound, you instead try to bring some bubbliness to the conversation.
“Why don’t we just stay in and try to make the best of what’s left of the evening. I can even tell you more embarrassing childhood stories!”
A beaming grin washes across his gorgeous, stubble-laced face: “Absolutely...I wouldn’t want anything else. I think the night calls for another round of rum and Coke, hmm?”
Bucky can’t believe how perfectly everything is falling into place. He didn’t even need to use the handcuffs and chloroform he had purchased from the hardware and drugstore earlier in the week. As he drops the tiny pill into your cocktail, he almost feels bad about how easy this is.
You can’t help the excitement that takes over you as he hands you the drink he made to you. He’s a really good mixer, there’s no questioning that. Comfortable silence takes over as you sip at the liquid, already feeling a bit light. “So,” Bucky begins, “how about some more of those stories?”
You start to tell him more tales of your childhood days, how you were accident prone and sported braces for months. As the conversation continues, the words seem harder to get out. Your thoughts are overlapping, your speech is slurring, your eyelids and mouth feel heavy. Something isn’t right. Fear overtakes your body as it slowly becomes unmovable.
“Bucky. I don’t...feel too well,” you choke out.
“It’s okay, I got you. Just lay back, you don’t look so good.”
He’s on you in an instant. You feel his warm hands cup your face, keeping your drooping head up. You can’t focus on anything much longer, darkness envelops you and you slouch against Bucky.
He has you. After all this time, he has you in his arms. He feels how smooth your skin is, how your little puffs of air are hitting his neck. He wants nothing more than to take you here and now, but he wants your first time with him to be special. Bucky wants you to be aware of who makes your tight cunt weep.
Picking you up, he makes his way to the basement, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he makes sure not to bump your head on anything. He’s worked so hard on everything for you. He needed everything in his basement to be perfect for his little wife. He watches each step carefully and makes it to the bottom.
Bucky gently places you down on the soft bed and starts to remove your clothing with ease. His breath hitches at your panty clad figure. Your breasts are on full display, nipples pebbling from being exposed to the air, your cotton underwear seems a size too small, accentuating your hips and mound.
He gathers his thoughts and pulls a floral sundress from the closet. This was her favorite one, he’s sure you’ll love it too. Bucky slips it on your sleeping form with no resistance. You look like a painting with your eyes closed, lips slightly parted and your hair splayed out. He leans in and places a kiss upon your forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment.
“Sleep well,” he whispers.
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Your head is throbbing, the feeling much like a bad hangover but somehow even more intense. As your eyes flutter open, you’re met with unfamiliar surroundings. Sitting up sharply, you survey the room, suddenly becoming disoriented. Had you drank too much and fallen asleep at Bucky’s? How mortifying.
The room you find yourself in is decorated beautifully, gorgeous antiques placed on every surface and an ornate painting of the Italian countryside hanging above the mantle. It reminds you of a fancy hotel suite, though you can’t help but notice the absence of windows.
Glancing down, you realize the clothes you came over in are not the clothes you’re currently wearing and a white gold band is wrapped around your left ring finger. You can hear the creaking of footsteps on the hardwood above you, quickly realizing you must be in his basement. If it was just a change of clothes he gave you, it would add up. But the ring?
You’ve seen the ornate dresser and sturdy bookshelves that are now scattered around the room before. They’re the recent projects he’s been tirelessly working on in the driveway day after day. You’re suddenly thinking back to all of those photos of his wife, the striking resemblance between you two. The dress you’re currently wearing is the same one in their Eiffel Tower snapshot. Your heart pounds in your chest as you begin to understand the dire situation you’re in.
In a mad dash to get upstairs, you race up the narrow staircase but are blocked at the top by Bucky.
“Not so fast, wifey. Where do you think you’re going?”
You back away from him slowly, careful not to miss a step as you make your way down. He follows with a scowl. At this moment, you realize how much bigger he actually is compared to you. Bucky is a mountain of a man, all broad shoulders and taut chest. His thighs are firm and hips narrow. All that mixed with the way he’s eyeing you? You’re terrified.
“Bucky, just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone. We can just pretend this never happened,” you rush out. You wish you sounded more calm, more collected, but hysteria is slowly starting to take over.
“Oh, doll. You’re not going anywhere. You’re my wife now.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s still taking you in, need is building up inside him and he doesn’t know how much longer he can control himself.
“People will realize I’m missing, Bucky. They’ll come looking for me.”
Instead of striking worry in him, he just laughs. “Do you really think so little of me? I have everything taken care of. And you’ll make your appearances in town when I’ve trained you to need me, to obey me. I’m an easy man. But you don’t want to make me upset, sweetie.”
Tears form in the corners of your eyes and slowly pour down your cheeks. You have to get out of here. You work the band off your left hand and throw it at him: “I’m not your wife. You’re sick. You need help,” you spit.
Bucky’s blue eyes darken, clearly agitated at your deliberate disregard for the ring. He bends over to pluck the dainty gold band off the floor and yanks your wrist towards him aggressively.
“Trust me, sweetheart. It could be much worse for you,” he growls, jamming the ring back onto your finger, “if you don’t behave I have no problem keeping your corpse around instead.”
He slowly walks you backwards until your back hits the wall with a soft thud. His fingers forcefully lace with yours, his mouth hovering over the column of your throat. “Now it’s time to consummate this marriage with my pretty little bride. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
“Bucky,” you plead, “please don’t do this.”
No matter how much you beg and bargain, nothing can change his mind. He’s set on you, struck even. You look so ethereal as he looks down upon you. Eyes are puffy, lips makes him hard. Bucky wants to ruin you, morph you into his dream wife. He’s already lost one and he’s not about to lose another.
He rocks into you, the feeling of his hardness pressing against your mound has you nauseous. But, the friction sends electricity creeping along your spine and whimpers falling past your mouth. You try to move your neck away from his onslaught of licks and sucks, but he doesn’t take too kindly to that as he harshly bites down on your heated skin.
“I want you to strip for me, doll,” he commands as his lips enclose around your ear, dragging it through his teeth.
As Bucky steps away from your body, he watches intently as you discard the sundress with shaky hands. He’ll never get tired of seeing your body, so soft and begging to be explored. Your arms fly to your chest to shield it from his heated gaze.
“You’re beautiful,” he rasps out. You feel your face warm at the compliment. You didn’t want this, but you can’t help the way his glances and words make you feel. No man has ever paid you the time of day. There’s a sense of loneliness that has taken over your heart. But, here’s Bucky, saying things you never thought a man like him would speak to you. It’s all so conflicting. Your mind is telling you how this is all so wrong, but he’s filling that lonely void.
He guides you to the king-sized bed that sits against the wall. You try to convince yourself that this will all be over soon, but you have a sinking feeling that this is just the beginning of a long time. You look up at him as he hovers over you, erection pressing firmly against your clothed core.
Nothing is said and nothing can be heard except for your low sobs as he slowly leans down to attach his lips to yours. When he realizes you’re not kissing him back, he pulls away and says, “If you don’t start showing more enthusiasm, I won’t be so nice.”
This time, you entertain the kiss. You really don’t want to experience his bad side if this is him being nice. His tongue finds yours as he licks inside the expanse of your mouth. You’re starting to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen so when he finally parts from your swollen lips, you’re sucking in air rapidly.
Bucky trails his mouth along your neck once more before making his way down your chest, stomach, and thighs. He’s nibbling the soft flesh on the inside of your legs and his scruff is causing a slight burn. Your whines echo throughout the room which causes Bucky to rut against the bed. He’s loving the little noises he’s making slip past that pretty pout.
His hands move to grasp your underwear and suddenly, you're snapped out of the haze of fear, sadness, and...want? You jerk yourself away from his grasp, climbing up the rest against the headboard.
“What did I tell you?” he grits out, but before he can completely lose his temper you tell him in a soft voice, “I’ve never done anything like this...with anyone.”
Oh fuck. You’re a virgin? Bucky didn’t think it was humanly possible to be as turned on as he is right now, but his dick jumping at your words tells him it’s entirely possible. He can feel his heart soften a bit, he wants you to enjoy this, he wants to claim you.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll go slow. Okay?”
You don’t know why you're not putting up more of a fight with him, why you’re falling into his horrid trap with seamless ease. You don’t dwell on it as you slide back down the bed, head falling against the plush pillows and putting your legs on Bucky’s broad shoulders. He pulls your underwear off and he’s met with a sight that’ll be forever burned into his memory.
You’re wet, soaked even and he’s barely even touched you. Oh how he loves virgins. Always so sensitive, so easily attached. He can’t wait to plunge himself into you and see your face contort at the slight pain, to feel your tight walls gripping him, like your cunt is begging him to stay inside you forever.
“Have you ever touched yourself, baby?”
“I have.”
“Mmm,” he hums, “show me what you do.”
Your heart is pounding so hard that you can see your chest move and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears. You’ve never felt this type of embarrassment before. Knowing he won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, you place two fingers on your clit. Why are you this wet? You shouldn’t be turned on by all this and yet, you can practically feel yourself dripping onto the blankets below.
Bucky watches as you rub yourself in slow circles, your folds glistening in the light. He lets out a low groan, “Such a pretty sight. I’m going to help you out a bit, okay?”
Before you can ask him what he’s doing, you feel a finger breach your entrance. He just couldn’t help himself. He needs to feel you in his hands. Your back starts to arch as he pumps his index finger inside you at a languid pace. He’s not even paying attention to your lower half anymore, his sole focus is on your face.
Your eyes are squeezed tight with your brows knitted together. Little squeaks and gasps continuously bounce off the walls. He knows he’ll take you every day, every night. You’re just too addicting, especially since he’s the first to touch you and the only one who will ever touch you.
The pressure in your lower stomach is starting to build at a rapid pace. You feel him add another finger, stretching you out further. A moan gets caught in your throat, your fingers swirl faster against your swollen bud. But Bucky’s pace never slows or gains speed, he’s keeping the stroke of his hand long and drawn out. He’s making you fall apart. He wants to hear you ask for your release.
“Please, need you to move faster,” you gasp.
It’s music to his ears. Your wanton moans and pleas go straight to his aching groin. He knows you're close, he can feel the way your pussy clenches around his digits, he can feel your wetness slide down onto his palm. He has to have a taste, it’s killing him not licking into you.
You feel Bucky’s hand wrap around your wrist and pull your fingers from your clit. You let out a sound of discontent at the lost friction. Before you can beg for him to make you cum and end your misery, his fingers move in and out of you at a harsh cadence as his lips enclose around your bud.
You yelp at the contact. Never could you have imagined something like this. The sweet suction of his mouth has heat forming all across your body. You don’t seem to be in control of your own mind, he’s reduced it to thinking one thing and one thing only. To cum.
You can hear the obscene sounds coming from yourself as Bucky’s fingers slip in and out of you with ease. You grab two fistfuls of his cropped hair and keep his face in place. Bucky doesn’t mind it at all. He wants you to use him because that’s what he’s here for. He’s here for your pleasure and your heart. He wants you to give him everything.
Your hips seem to have a mind of their own as you practically hump his face. You grip his wrist and shove his fingers back inside you each time he tries to remove them. His face is covered in slick as he never lets up on the assault his tongue brings. Your thighs are trembling with each lick and suck.
“Taste so good, doll. Know you wanna cum. Let go for me.” He hums against your wet flesh, sending vibrations along your swollen cunt.
Blinding pleasure takes you over. Your body is suspended in the air as everything pulls taught and your eyes roll in the back of your head. Bucky doesn’t slow, he’s milking your orgasm for all it’s worth. You don’t know how long your body stays frozen, but when your back hits the mattress, you’re spent. It’s like he drained all your energy just from his mouth.
Your eyes shut as you try to even your breathing out. You’re delicate all over, it’s like he knows your body and how to make you feel these sensations. There’s almost too many of them at the same time. Your mind is fuzzy, filled with post-climax bliss.
Suddenly, the rustle of clothing grabs your attention. You open your eyes and look down. There, on his knees looming over you, is Bucky completely bare. He’s a big man, everywhere. You gulp at the sight, fearing he might not fit. You haven’t even taken so much as a finger until he helped himself to you. Even just his fingers were a stretch.
“Bucky, I can’t. I don’t want this. I-” His palm cuts off your rambling as he looms over your spent form.
“I don’t care what you want, baby. You’re here to please your husband. Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he cooes. Without another word, you just nod your head in agreement. He’ll always get his way with you. You know he'll never let you be.
“Now, be a good girl and spread these legs nice and wide for me.”
You try to fight the tears you feel stinging your eyes as you do what he says. He dips his head to spit onto your pussy, rubbing it into your arousal with his cock. It looks almost painful how hard he is, an angry red tint takes over the head, veins appear along the shaft. His tip bumps your clit a few times causing you to jerk up towards the headboard.
“So sensitive,” he smirks. “Virgins always are. I’ll be gentle.”
You just hope he keeps his promise, you really don’t want to be ripped open with no remorse. Bucky lines himself up to your entrance. He starts slowly, sinking into you an inch before stilling and letting you adjust to his girth.
“You’re gonna have to relax, sweetie. You’re so fucking tight,” he grits through clenched teeth.
You feel like heaven to him and he isn’t even half way inside you. He slides in deeper once you’ve loosened a bit. You’re still a snug fit, so snug in fact that Bucky thinks this isn’t going to last as long as he hopes. He can feel the harsh throb of your walls against his shaft. Your arousal coats him completely and he feels some slide down to his balls. It’s nasty, it’s debauched, it’s something he plans to do every day.
He’s fully in you now and the burn isn’t necessarily unpleasant, but it’s not the greatest feeling. You thought your first time would be special, sharing your body with someone you love, with someone who loves you. Not this kidnapper, this borderline monster. At least he’s somewhat caring towards you, trying to make your first time as painless as possible. He has to have good in his heart somewhere. That gives you hope. Hope that he’ll end all of this soon.
Bucky just stares at you while you’re trying to accommodate his member. Taking in each feature you have, making sure to remember every little detail he can. “You’re so gorgeous…” he whispers. You don’t know what happens, but the tears break free and you’re sobbing almost hysterically. Are you crying from pain? Pleasure? Over the fact his words have a warmness erupting in your chest? You don’t know, you don’t think you’ll never really know.
Bucky thinks you cry so beautifully. But he knows you’re in a mental state of pain which causes his heart to twist. You’ll see soon enough he’s not the monster he knows you think he is. He kisses your cheeks, catching the tears that fall from your eyes with his lips. He takes the opportunity to start moving, drawing his hips back slowly before flushing them against yours once more.
“Even more so when you cry.”
His body completely envelopes yours as he strokes inside you. The air leaves your lungs as you feel the drag of his cock. He slips in and out with little to no trouble, more wet noises can be heard throughout the room. The pain is gone now and is replaced by pressure. It sends a heat through your body once more.
Bucky buries his head into your neck as his pace picks up a bit. He places kisses along your throat and you can hear him panting as his release grows closer. Your toes start to curl as his hand finds a breast and starts to tweak your nipple, causing you to arch against him. When he’s taking you apart like this, you’re putty in his hands.
“Know you said you didn’t want this,” he says in between thrusts, “but you’re drenched, your thighs are trembling, and you’re trying to bite back moans...just admit it, baby. You do want this. I can make this body beg for more. My pretty angel, I own you,” he whispers against your ear.
You don’t say anything, just small pants leave your lips. Bucky isn’t looking for a response, he knows his words ring true for you. As he cages you in, his thrusts start to grow sloppy. You’re just so damn tight and soft, it makes him wild. He reaches a hand between your bodies to find your clit.
When you feel his fast circles along your sensitive nerves, you know you’re a goner. You let out a wail as your legs wrap around his waist. Your hands fly to his back, leaving harsh indentions from your nails as you drag them down his toned muscles. Your orgasm is intense, you didn’t know cumming around something could feel so good, it’s like it never ends as white noise fills your ears and your body shakes.
Bucky cums right after you. Your constant clenching and pulsing had him on the edge already, but as soon as your nails dug into his back, he came with a groan that got muffled by your hair. He starts placing tiny kisses all over your face and neck, enjoying the feeling of having you under him.
You two lay like that for a long moment, just trying to gain composure. You feel him soften inside you as his cum starts to leak out from where you’re both still connected. He gently pulls himself out of you and you wince at the loss. You feel so empty and now that your high is starting to wear off, you feel used. More tears start to form.
“Hey,” Bucky calmly says, “you did so good. You’re perfect for me, y/n.”
You bite back your sobs as he removes the soiled blankets and wraps you in a fresh one from the closet. You watch as he dresses himself as if nothing about this is wrong. He comes over to you and places a kiss against your head.
“Get some rest. I’ll be back soon.”
As he makes his way up the stairs, you wait until the door shuts before you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You’re numb. You don’t know what to feel. On one hand, you want to kick, scream, and fight. But on the other, you want him to love you, to not be a captive and instead be with him willingly.
Will you truly ever be free?
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The days begin to melt together, unsure if it’s been a week or a month since Bucky took you as his captive. It just makes your heart sick, especially because you know you’ve probably missed your nephew’s 6th birthday. You’ve definitely missed your end of semester exams. You’ve missed so many things.
The space he’s prepared for you is gorgeous and it makes you sick even admitting it. He lets you watch whatever TV programs you want and always offers to pass the time with you in whatever way you’d like. He’s fully stocked a bookshelf with your favorite authors, littered your room with your favorite beeswax candles, and even offers to make you cocktails with that rum you love so much. It becomes very clear very early on that he knows all of these things about you because he’s been stalking you.
But you take no interest in the things that previously brought you joy. Instead, you just spend your afternoons sobbing uncontrollably, something that begins to grate on Bucky’s nerves. He makes sure you spend your evenings on your back, sobbing in a different way.
Yet your resolve hasn’t been entirely shattered. You decide to make a plea to Bucky, hoping to appeal to his emotional side which you know must be buried in there somewhere. As he shuffles down the stairs to bring you your dinner, you make your pitch.
“Bucky I - I am so grateful for this set-up you’ve given me. But I need to go home, I need to get back to my life,” you beg, scanning his face for any inkling of a reaction.
“This is your home, doll. We’ve been over this.” He places the bowl of piping hot soup in front of you, gesturing for you to have a spoonful.
“Buck, please. Please. Your wife wouldn’t want this. You need to let me go.”
He softly wipes the falling tears from under your eyes but his demeanor is anything but soft. “That’s enough, I don’t want to hear you say anything more about this.” His words pack a fierce punch but you know that you have nothing to lose by pushing the issue more. He’s already stolen your innocence. He’s already kept you as his prisoner.
“If your wife could see this, she would be disgusted. Buck, you’re a great guy who misses his wife. But kidnapping me isn’t the answer.”
“Shut your whore fuckin’ mouth! Just shut it!” He spits, shoving you down onto the plush sofa with one brutal push, “I told you to stop but you can’t fucking listen, can you? You’re never going to be anything like her, you’re just pretty enough to keep my cock warm.”
With steadfast precision, he unbuckles his belt with one hand while clenching your throat with the other. In some cruel twist of fate, you’ve got your wish of knowing how it would feel for his hand to be your necklace. You gargle and gasp for air, legs flailing underneath you to try and wriggle free. You’ve never seen Bucky this angry, this vitriolic.
His hand relents on your neck, instead shifting to your cheek with a hard slap, “I was trying to be patient with you sweetheart but now you’ve really pissed me off.”
Unfortunately for you, all that clings to your figure is a skimpy nightgown, allowing him to flip the flimsy fabric up and gain immediate access. Without any care for your comfort, he rams his rock hard cock inside with one brutal thrust.
“God, you’re so much tighter when you’re scared.”
You knew fighting it wouldn’t be of any use, he was so much stronger and his arms had now pinned your delicate wrists above your head. Clenching your eyes shut in an attempt to distract yourself from his vicious assault, this made him even more agitated.
“Wanna see those scared little eyes while I fuck a lesson into you,” he growls, pushing the delicate skin on your eyelids up so they retreat back open.
Unlike every time he’s laid into you since your kidnapping, this time is markedly different. There is no care for your well-being, no regard for your pleasure. You know that this fuck is purely about asserting his power over you. The filthiest words and sounds escape his lips as he pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you.
Every time you think he’s close to coming, he cruelly pulls out to the tip. This pattern happens for the better part of an hour, Bucky wanting to keep your throbbing pussy on edge for as long as possible. He’s absolutely serious about the lesson he’s going to teach.
His nature is now fully animalistic as he snaps all the way up into your cervix. The pain never dulls down, it’s just a consistent searing in your cunt that radiates up to your abdomen. You yip, whine, scream as he bottoms out over and over again. Praying for it to end, you bite down on your bottom lip to deliberately draw blood. Any other sensation of pain is a welcome distraction from what your new husband is drilling into you.
Bucky’s mouth curls into a sadistic smile, dipping down to your bleeding lip and messily smearing the droplets across his thumb, only to ram it into your mouth. The metallic tang meets your tongue abruptly, making you want to gag at the taste.
Your abused cunt instinctively clenches around his cock, praying that if you milk it maybe he’ll lessen the violent tempo. This plan works because his pace begins to falter, his grunts growing closer and closer together as sweat drips from his forehead onto your neck and chest. He rocks into you once more, his throbbing member pumping your womb full of his hot spend.
“Don’t fuckin’ pull this shit again, bitch. Punishing you hurts me more than it hurts you,” he mutters, tucking himself back into his jeans.
He could mark your body, try to destroy what remaining fragments of hope you had left, but you’d never let Bucky break your spirit.
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Bucky, did in fact, break your spirit. Turns out, you hadn’t been as strong as you thought, not when every day he kept you full of him, kept you compliant in fear that he’d have another outburst. He’s been persistent, always making sure you’re around him and convincing you that you need him.
As you both lay in your bed, you have your head pressed against his bare chest, mindlessly drawing shapes across his taut skin. He spends the majority of his time down here with you. You’ve come to crave his presence, his touch, the way he makes you fall apart with ease while mindlessly chanting his name. Bucky always tells you how beautiful you are when you come undone for him, when you’re doing something so mundane. You now know he genuinely loves you and that he needs you to be happy. You never want him to be unhappy ever again.
When he isn’t fucking you into the mattress, you both watch tv, play boardgames, bake together. There’s a sense of normality now. It’s like you’re made for him, like all this was supposed to happen to bring your two souls together.
“I’ve been thinking,” his deep voice breaks you from your thoughts, “you’ve been so good for me...I think you deserve a day out. How’s that sound?”
Your heart momentarily stops. A day out? You haven’t been outside in so long, you miss the fresh air, the pretty blue of the sky, the rain on your skin...of course you want a day out. You desperately need it.
You raise up slightly to meet his gaze. “You mean it?”
“Every word.”
Your heart flutters as he smiles at you. You love when his eyes crinkle, he’s looked so at peace lately. You trace the lines of his smile and whisper, “You’ll be with me, right?” You can’t imagine being around people without him by your side.
“Each step of the way, doll.”
You kiss him then, deep and loving. It’s not rushed or hasty, it’s perfect. He’s perfect. You pull away and bite your lip. “Can we go now?” you ask. You can’t contain your excitement when the question leaves your lips.
Bucky pretends to ponder before answering, “go get dressed. Make sure to wear a jacket, it’s rainy!” He has to shout the last part because you’ve already sprinted to the closet. He smiles to himself, he loves seeing his doll happy. Happiness is a good look on you. He gets out of bed to go upstairs and dig through his own closet.
After finding warmer clothes, you sit on the little couch in the center of the room and eagerly await for him to come back down to retrieve you. You hear his footsteps descending and rush to the bottom of the staircase.
“I see you’re ready,” he smiles and places his hand in yours.
It feels odd not being in the basement. His home is practically the same as you remember it, all masculine decor and utterly him. You really don’t want to spend the rest of your days locked away in the basement anymore. You want to be equals with Bucky. You want to take part in his everyday life, not the life he’s created for you down there.
“Bucky,” you begin as he looks tentatively at you, “will you ever let me live up here with you?”
He can’t help the smile that breaks across his face. He’s beyond happy to hear that question. Now he fully knows you want him as much as he wants you. He hates keeping you locked up, but it was for your own good. He needed you to see how deep his love runs first.
“If today goes well, I’ll move you in up here tonight.”
You hug him tighter than you ever have before. You can’t wait to be a normal husband and wife and share a house, share hobbies, share his bedroom and every waking moment with him. Bucky has to pry you off him and lead you to the front door. Before you leave though, the pictures that were once hung are no longer. Although there is one photo hanging in a beautifully detailed frame; a picture of you and Bucky, sitting close together on the basement floor and smiling brightly at the camera.
You’re wearing that floral dress, the same one his wife wore in the Paris picture. Your heart flutters and a sense of pride takes over you. He’s not hung up on her anymore. Bucky Barnes is completely and fully yours. With one more look at the photo you grin and turn to follow your husband into the stormy, evening weather.
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I no longer use a tag list so please follow @fluffyfuck and turn on notifications if you’d like to be alerted to new writing!
Please follow my baby @sableseb for more filthy goodness xoxo Tay 💖
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angrythingstarlight · 3 months ago
Run All You Want
Summary: Bucky told you that you can’t escape him, but that doesn’t mean you wont try. Too bad for you Bucky enjoys a good chase. 
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Pairing: Soft Dark mafia!Bucky x reader
Warnings: Slight dub con, allusions to forced marriage, smut, 18+, violence (not towards reader) mentions of death, edging, Buckys pain kink, power kink, breeding kink, reader kicking Steve's ass
A/N: For @syntheticavenger who wanted to know what happened to the reader from Can’t Run, Can’t Hide. Unbeta'd if you catch an error let me know! Do not copy, repost, rewrite or translate my work, even if you credit it, I do not give my permission for my works to be posted on any other site. 
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Bucky pauses, holding the glass to his mouth, the rich bourbon cresting over his lip as his piercing eyes follow your fleeing form on the security monitors.
You stumble across the expansive front yard, heading for the black iron wrought gates at the entrance of his estate. Taking a sip of the rich amber liquid, he swallows, a hint of a wry grin twisting across his face. He finishes his drink,, watching you run further and further from the mansion. 
Bucky places his glass on his desk and looks over at your trio of bodyguards. Any hints of amusement fading away, the sharp, knowing look in his eyes making the men cower, he gestures for them to explain why you’re currently halfway across the lawn.
Maximo clears his throat, stepping forward. “Sir if you would let us stop her before she-” He snaps his mouth shut when Becky quirks a brow. Lowering his voice, he pleads, “Sir, I’m just saying we could prevent her from-” 
“Get Steve.” Bucky sharply interrupts. 
Maximo’s breath hitches, he opens his mouth but his half-formed protest shrivels on his tongue as Bucky slowly cants his head to the side. He drops his eyes to the floor, mumbling. “Yes, Sir.” 
Bucky dismisses them with a flick of his hand, turning back to the monitors, tracking your every movement. Maximo storms into the hallway, your other two guards close behind. He hits the wall with the side of his fist, hissing under his breath. “I told her to wait. If she would listen to me for once. Damn it.” 
What good is a bodyguard if you won’t let him protect you?
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After the door swing shuts, Bucky loosens his tie and shrugs off his suit jacket. Settling in his leather chair, he watches you run past the hedges. He slowly unzips his pants as you scramble over a shrub, stopping when your gown catches on a branch. He takes his hardening cock out of his boxers while you rip the bottom of the expensive lace to set yourself free. 
You turn your head, freezing when you see Steve running after you. Bucky slowly pumps his cock as you break into a sprint, almost falling into one of the newly planted rosebushes lining the driveway, the daisies you ripped from the ground are still in the driveway by the gardener’s truck.
You turn to the gardener, shouting for him to help you. He averts his eyes, focusing on the last remaining hole in the ground, clutching the thorny bush to his chest as you run past him.
Bucky sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, his chest heaving as Steve grabs you by the waist, pulling you back, your legs kicking in the air. Bucky leans forward, palming his swollen, leaking head, smiling proudly as you elbow Steve in the stomach, he loosens his grip on your squirming frame with a grunt. You rear your head back, slamming it into his nose, you slip out his hold and bring your leg back.
The ironic thing about your fiery nature is that had you been the sweet, submissive waitress he assumed you were, he would have sent you on your way with a hefty check and N.D.A. agreement months ago. 
But this, the way you fight him at every turn, is intoxicating. He can’t get enough of you.  Bucky loves how fucking feisty you are, in fact you’re only getting more aggressive and it turns him on.
Buck twists his hand around his aching cock, panting as you kick Steve between his leg. He falls to his knees with a pained groan just as Bucky grunts, his eyes focused on your face. “Good girl.”
He twists and strokes himself furiously, moaning when you land a wild punch on Steve’s jaw before scrambling for the gardener’s truck. “Fuck, kitten.”
Steve hobbles after you, picking you up by your waist, roaring for you to stop. He flings your flailing body over his shoulder. Bucky releases his cock, staving off his impeding orgasm, he’s addicted to your tight wet heat, only wanting to cum inside you now.
He rests his head back, catching his breath as he hears Steve stomping towards his office, the door slamming open, rattling a few framed pictures of you as it bounces off the wall. 
He rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, chuckling while Steve tosses you on the couch by the French doors.
“Anything else, boss?” He asks evenly, glaring down at you, his cracked, bloody lips turning up in a thinly veiled sneer. 
You return his look with a pleased smile, scrunching your nose at him, savoring the sight of his scratched and swollen face. You wiggle your fingers at him. 
“No, you can leave.” Bucky responds dismissively. “Finish cleaning up her mess.”
The door closes behind his disgruntled right-hand man. A heavy, thick silence filling the office as Bucky stares at you.  Kicking off your shoes, you snort when one knocks over one of his expensive statues. Bucky narrows his eyes at the crack forming along the side of the imported vase. 
“Whoops.” You smirk, ignoring the glowering mafia boss. You’ve spent the better part of the year learning how to push his buttons. Its the small things that give you joy, you think dusting off your tailored made night gown.
The sunlight glints off your ring, drawing your attention to your hand. Twirling the diamond band around your finger, your eyes flit up, searching his face for the jagged scar above his right brow.
That was one of your finer moments. Diamonds aren’t just a girl’s best friend, they also make a handy weapon. You did warn if he grabbed your ass one more time, you were going to punch him. Because of you, he had to greet the mayor with a bandage over his eye, your minor triumph immortalized in every professional photo from that night. It was worth the spanking and the week long edging.
You glance down at the band, tempted to throw it away. Again. But the last time you did, he forced you to sit in the frozen grass in nothing but your bra and panties as protection from the frigid winds. Bucky had stood over you, wrapping his cashmere scarf over his neck, declaring, “you can come inside when they find it.”
The staff had sifted through the snow for two hours before they found your ring.
Two hours.
You’re not certain if you’re even legally married considering you refused to speak at the church. He took you in the middle of the pastor’s office edging you over and over until you relented and signed your name on the wedding certificate. 
Not that it matters now. 
You sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch, stretching your arms above your head. “I’m hungry.” You mutter aloud before standing up.
“Who’s fault is that you missed breakfast?” He questions pointedly.
You shrug a shoulder, letting your gown fall to your feet. “Decided to go for an early morning run,” you quip, bursting into giggles. 
Bucky’s eyes darken at your insolent tone.  Oh you love riling him up, especially now that he won’t let anything happen to you. He watches you curve your hand under the swell of your barely rounded belly.
You match his glowering stare with your amused one
After a few seconds, he picks up the phone, his stormy blue eyes boring into yours. He crooks one long ringed finger, beckoning you to him. You pad to him, swinging your leg over his thighs, looking down you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and line him up with your cunt, wincing as he stretches you.
Refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing your moans, you bite your lip, listening to him order the chef to prepare your favorite foods. Gripping his shoulders, you circle your hips, shaking your head when he asks if you want crepes. 
Bucky ends the call, his hands gripping your hips, slowing your movements to a languid pace. Determined to make you feel each inch of his thick cock moving deeper in your pussy until you can’t stop the needy sobs from escaping your parted lips. You hate when he fucks you like this 
Sweet and slow. 
It’s easier when he’s brutal and punishing, dragging your orgasms out of your body. You can handle that but this, making love to you, fuck you hate the way your body responds, your pussy clenching down around him, milking him until you can’t take anymore.
 This steady rhythm with his hands moving your body any way he wants is how he lets you know he’s in charge of you and your traitorous pussy.
“Why do you keep running?” He hums, snapping his hips up, his soft lips brushing over your shoulder. “You know I’m going to catch you.”
“Because I can’t stand you.” 
“For someone who claims to despise me, your pussy is always so wet for me.”
He’s right and you hate it.
You ignore him, focusing on the pleasure building and twisting in your belly, you reach under his shirt and rake your nails down his back. He laughs in your ear, feeling the pain ripple down his spine. “Fuck that feels good,” he groans. 
 Bucky nips at your skin, his hands digging into your waist, forcing you to meet his deep strokes.  “There’s no escaping me doll. Just give in and enjoy being with me as much as your pussy does.”
“I’ll figure something out.” you promise, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, pulling your lips into your mouth as you try to stay quiet, hating that he knows how to please you.
“Like getting Maximo and those idiots to help you.” He cruelly retorts. Your heart thuds in your chest at his words. Bucky yanks your head back, his fingers circling your clit, sensations surging through your body. “I know all about your cute little plans, doll.” Fuck. Your breath halts in your chest with a whimper, clawing at his hand, you try to twist off him but you only push him deeper inside of you,
“They’re lucky they didn’t touch you-.” He shifts his hips back and his next thrust hits that soft spot so good tears form in your widening eyes, “-and that’s the only reason they got a bullet in the head instead of me beating them to death.”
Oh fuck. 
“And I would have made you watch.” Bucky swallows your shocked gasp, his lips slotting over yours, his hot wet tongue pressing into your mouth. You grab his hair, trying to pull his face away, but all he does is fuck up into you harder and faster.
You try to hold on to your anger but then he tilts your hips over his, going so deep you can’t think, you can only feel him inside of you. A strangled sob builds in your chest, you’re getting so close, so close to the edge, the coil tightening with each sweep of his calloused thumb over your clit until your entire body tenses. Your cunt clamping down on his cock as he ruthlessly pistons in and out of your spasming walls.
“Feels like this pussy doesn’t want to let me go.” He taunts against your lips, grinding his hips into yours. You hate knowing he’s watching your face contort with pleasure as the coil unravels, but you can’t help it, not with such intense sensations wracking your helpless body until you break shattering as you come around his cock, crying out softly.
You refuse to say his name, no matter how many times he’s tried to make you. Unaware of how proud that makes him. He’s going to get you to scream his name some day, maybe when the hormones finally kick in and you’re desperate for him.
Bucky licks up your neck, feeling your hot walls flutter around him. “You and your tight cunt belong to me, don’t forget it kitten.” His firm reminder punctuated by another swift thrust.
“I’ll keep trying.” You warn even as you clench down again. 
“Try to run again as much as you want.” Bucky pushes your chin up with his finger. “Let’s see how fast you are with my baby on your hip and another in your belly. As soon as this one’s out, I’m putting another one in you.”  
A smile forming over his face as you process his words. He swore he was going to keep you nice and full. And he means it. You’re his and only his. 
“Now get off and put your hands on the desk. We have another hour before your breakfast is ready.”
You lean forward until your nose bumps into his. “Make. Me. Or fuck yourself. I don't care.” 
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"Damn, I love you." He traces his finger down your cheek, laughing when you slap his hand away. "And kitten-," Bucky smiles, grabbing your wrist, "-I think you love me too."
You'll burn this mansion to the ground before you'd ever admit that. Although seeing his smug grin makes you want to burn it down anyway.
Maybe after you eat. And you fuck him one more time. Just once more.
Let me know what you think! I appreciate every like, comment and reblog! Thank you for reading!
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buckys-bug-archive · 3 months ago
their angel — two
w/c: 2.8k
pairing: dark!daddy steve, dark!daddy bucky, little!reader
warnings: ddlg dynamics, abduction and kidnapping, mentions of depression and disassociation, suicidal ideation, dark!bucky and steve, violence (bucky + steve hit reader), quite a bit of manhandling, minors dni, if you don’t like dark fics do not read this
note: here’s part two!! i hope you enjoy it and please please leave feedback and let me know what you think :))
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“Rise and shine, baby girl.” A soft voice breaks through the heavy cocoon of sleep enveloping you and you grumble quietly, a yawn escaping your lips as you turn towards the source of the sound. You forget your predicament for a second and welcome the warm body next to you, nuzzling into it; a deep rumble sounds from his chest as he chuckles, running a hand over your head. But once the mist covering your brain from the sleeping meds has lifted a little, your body tenses as you recognise the voice next to you and you let out a thin whimper, curling in on yourself and away from his eyes. Steve coos gently and kisses your forehead, lifting you into his arms.
“None of that, lovebug.” He brushes your tousled hair out of your face lovingly, as though the position you’re in is nothing out of the ordinary. As if he hasn’t abducted you and is forcing you to play into his sick, twisted fantasy. You writhe in his hold, trying to twist away from him and he tuts, only gripping you harder.
“Get off.. of me.” your speech is slow and slurred from the medicine and you know you’re not strong enough for him to even budge. His hands grip you so hard they’re sure to leave bruises as he peppers kisses over your neck and cheeks and you squirm, batting at him with your hands.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, little one.” he growls, nudging you off of his lap and standing to rifle through your wardrobe. “What do you want to wear today, hmm? This skirt is cute, right?” he holds up a pleated pink tennis skirt and you frown, eyeing him with an unimpressed expression plastered on your face.
“I guess…” you shrug, uninterested as you pick at the skin around your fingernails and avoid his piercing gaze.
“Okay. What shirt? C’mere and choose one, angel.” You reluctantly stand and step across the room so you’re next to him, scanning your eyes over the various shirts hung in the wardrobe, all very childish in style.
“This one’s pretty.” you half heartedly tug at the least babyish one you can find - a white long sleeved t-shirt with a pink floral print - and Steve hums in agreement, unhooking it from the hanger and handing it to you.
“Thank you.” you mumble, shuffling back over to sit on the bed.
“Thank you, what?” he prompts with a raise of his eyebrows. A lump forms in your throat and you have to stop yourself from physically retching at what he clearly wants you to say.
“Thank you… Daddy.”
“Good girl. Let me help you get dressed.” He approaches you with the rest of your clothes and you cower away from him.
“I’m okay.” you squeak. “I can do it myself.” Steve frowns reproachfully, a crease appearing across his forehead.
“No, baby. You need help. You’re too little to do it on your own.” Your teeth clench at that and your eyes meet his, ablaze with rage.
“I’m not a baby, you psycho!” you shriek, standing and attempting to push past him and out of the door. “I’m a fully grown fucking woman and you’re out of your mind!” Steve’s eyes darken as he saunters towards you, suddenly even more intimidating than Bucky. Grabbing you by the throat, he pins you against the wall so hard that you hear a crack and you cry out, clawing at his muscular arm frantically.
“You’re… hu-hurting me. Stop!”
“You’re a baby. You will do as you’re told or you will be punished. Now sit on the bed.” He releases your throat from his grip and you stagger to the bed, coughing violently and clutching at your burning throat.
Steve saunters towards you and tugs your pyjamas off of your body as you cower away from him.
“Arms up.”
You oblige and lift your arms, allowing him to slip the shirt over your head. He then stands you up and you step into the skirt, cringing as he tucks your shirt into it; you hate the feeling of his hands on your body. He pairs your outfit with a pair of knee high socks before climbing into the bed and sitting you in his lap, eliciting a soft squeal from you. He picks up a hairbrush from the drawer and begins to brush your hair back from your face and braid it into two braids either side of your head. When he’s finished, he nudges you to stand and swivels you around to look at you. You’re like his own personal doll, and he’s taking full advantage of that. He’s dressing and styling you to his exact specifications.
“Baby, you look so pretty.”
“Thank you… Daddy.” He beams down at you and presses an urgent kiss to your lips; you grunt in surprise but you’re not strong enough to push him away. When he pulls back, you stare at him incredulously, lips parted in shock.
“Come on, let’s get you some breakfast.” he coos, lifting you as though you weigh nothing and placing you on his hip. He pads down the stairs and sits you down at the kitchen island, kissing your cheek before busying himself with preparing breakfast.
“Mornin’, dollface.” Bucky murmurs, kissing the top of your head and shuffling past you in the cramped kitchen.
“Morning, Dada.” you mumble quietly, shooting him a half hearted smile. He notices the way you tremble when he touches you and his face softens as he makes his way back towards you.
“There’s nothin’ to be scared of, baby. Don’t worry, we’re gonna look after you so well.” Reaching his hand out, he tugs on your braid affectionately and places a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You look so pretty, dollface.”
“Thank you, Dada.” You aren’t brave enough to defy Bucky, especially after what happened last night. So you nod and smile along, giving him the exact reaction that he wants.
“Here you go, baby.” Steve slides a very unappetising looking bowl of porridge over the counter to you and pulls out a chair to sit beside you. Scooping a spoonful of the mixture onto the spoon, he brings it to your lips and nudges them gently. “Open up.”
Reluctantly, you part your lips and he puts the spoon into your mouth. The sludge is practically tasteless and you scrunch your face up in distaste.
“You don’t like it?”
“‘S gross. It doesn’t taste of anything.” Steve rolls his eyes in amusement and brings another spoonful to your mouth.
“Just eat.”
After a few more mouthfuls, your tummy feels full and you groan softly.
“No more.”
“You full up, baby?”
“Yeah. ‘M done.” Steve tuts quietly but moves the food away from you. Bucky takes his place, pulling you into his lap and making you scream.
“‘M not gonna hurt you, silly baby.” he croons, but there’s malice underlying the sickly sweet tone of his voice; it sets fear deep into your bones and makes you shiver, every nerve in your body screaming for you to run. Screaming that he’s dangerous. And he is.
His grip around your waist is like iron, metal arm whirring and tightening every time you squirm.
“Stop. Too tight.” you grumble, batting at his arm; his eyes darken and you gulp, bracing yourself for another slap across the face. Instead, he pinches your thigh, causing a yelp to escape your lips, and his eyes meet yours in a warning gaze.
You cast your eyes downwards to avoid his own and he pinches you again.
“I mean it.”
“Sorry, what?” You clench your fists and groan internally.
“Sorry, Dada.”
“Good girl.” His hand travels up and hooks under your chin; he turns your head to look at him and your breath hitches in your throat. “We have some important things to talk about today. Are you gonna be good and listen, angel face?”
“Yes, Dada.”
“Come on then, sweetie.” He lifts you with as little effort as Steve did, carrying you to the living room with his partner in tow. Plopping you down onto the couch, he gazes at you seriously and you hold your breath, waiting for him to speak.
“Okay. We need to have rules for how this is going to work, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes and Bucky’s brow raises warningly. “What was that? Do you have something you want to say?” You sign and tuck your legs underneath you, sitting up straighter in your spot on the couch.
“I don’t understand how ‘rules’ are going to work when you literally kidnapped me. I want no part of this. It’s ridiculous!”
Bucky slaps you across the face so hard that you hurtle off of the couch, a handprint shaped welt already rising on your cheek. Whimpering, you push yourself up from the floor and scamper away, trembling.
“You will do as you’re told, little one.”
“I’m not little- and I’m not a baby. I just wanna go home.” you cry, scuttling away from Bucky as he advances on you.
“Sweetheart, we know more than you think.” Steve chuckles softly. “You don’t think we saw how you acted at work? How you’d force yourself into a bigger headspace for the sake of others? You don’t have to do that here. We’re trying to help.”
“W-what? Why were you watching me?”
“Because we love you, bubba.” Steve coos, wrapping you in his strong arms.
“Stop. Let go.” you whine, pushing against his embrace. Of course it makes no difference and he continues to croon quietly at you, tightening his hold when you start to thrash. Eventually, your body is too tired to keep fighting and you fall limp against him.
“Good girl. There ya go, sweet girl.”
“Why won’t you let me go home?” you sob softly against his chest; he frowns, genuinely perplexed as to why you’d want to leave them.
“This is your home now. We just want to take care of you, we love you so much.”
“We don’t know each other like that.”
“We will, sweetheart.”
The days from then on seem to all merge into one never ending nightmare. They feed you, bathe you, clothe you, put you to bed far too early for your liking and even deem when it’s appropriate for you to watch tv, play, and do other activities.
The only reprieve you get is from drawing and colouring. Even if the books you have to choose from mainly consist of my little pony and hello kitty, it’s an activity that allows your mind to escape your current situation - escape from the watchful gazes and the harsh punishments of your captors.
When you’re drawing, Steve and Bucky tend to leave you alone to your thoughts, allowing you time to process what’s happening and hopefully adjust.
But not today.
Today, Bucky barges into the room as you’re drawing and sits on the floor next to you, glancing at the paper in front of you.
“Whatcha drawing, dollface?”
“The sky… out there.” you point to the window and Bucky hums, stroking your hair as you do your best to ignore him.
“It’s very pretty.”
“Thank you Dada.”
“It’s dinner time. You hungry?” Bucky asks softly, kissing your cheek. You shrug in response, not daring to even look at him. “You must be hungry, sweet thing. You’ve barely been eating lately.”
“Jus’ don’t feel great, Dada.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Dunno. Jus’ everythin’.”
“C’mon. Try to eat a little bit, okay?”
“M’kay, Dada.” you sigh, twiddling your fingers in your lap now you’ve given up trying to draw with him watching. He scoops you up from the floor, resting you on his hip as you lay your head against his shoulder tiredly. You’re absolutely exhausted from fighting them all the time. What’s the point anymore? They take care of you, they give you everything you need and want. Are they really that bad?
He takes you to the kitchen and places you in your usual seat, sliding a plate of chicken nuggets to you.
“You hungry, sweet girl?” Steve coos from across the kitchen, beaming at you even when you don’t reciprocate his enthusiasm fully.
“I guess…”
“Are you alright, baby?” His brows knit together worriedly and he rushes to you, placing a hand to your forehead.
“‘M fine, Daddy. Jus’ tired.”
“Early to bed for you then, tonight.”
You begin to nibble on a chicken nugget hesitantly, the smell and taste making your stomach churn uneasily with your building anxiety. Your leg bounces so fast under the table it’s almost vibrating, and your teeth worry your bottom lip, drawing blood. You’re caught up in your own little world as your brain desperately tries to switch off from your current surroundings, instead picturing somewhere far away from this house. This house, with the ugly white carpets and the barred windows, with the too soft mattresses and the silky bed sheets that you loathe. This house, filled with your worst nightmares all rolled into one and your captors, who gaze at you like you’re the sun, moon and all the stars in the sky.
Steve watches you with concern as your eyes begin to glaze over and your brain disassociates from your body. You stop eating and stare out of the window vacantly as your eyes start to become heavy.
“Sweetheart.” He attempts to grab your attention but you don’t respond. “Y/N.”
The use of your name startles you immediately. Neither Steve nor Bucky use your name at all, instead opting for pet names - “Baby”, “Sweetheart”, “Doll”.
Your eyes snap up to meet his and he strides towards you, sitting in the chair next to yours.
“What’s goin’ on?”
“Nothin’.” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
He pinches your thigh in an attempt to prompt an answer from you, but instead it just causes you to sob. Tears pour down your cheeks and you bury your face in your hands, cowering away from his touch.
“Baby, I’m sorry.” he apologises over and over, but you don’t look at him. You’re so tired that you’d rather they just put you out of your misery.
“Why don’t you just kill me? I’m tired, just kill me.” you mutter under your breath; you want to cry more but you’re too fucking exhausted.
“Why would we do that? We love you, sweet girl.”
“Please just let me die. I’m done.” You slump against the kitchen counter, shutting your eyes slowly and Steve scoops you up from the chair, carrying you to the bedroom. He sits you on the bed and takes your face in his hands, concern filling his gaze.
“Explain to me how you’re feeling, baby.”
“I’m tired. I’m so tired and there’s no point to my life, I just want it to be over.”
Tears prick at Steve’s eyes and he climbs onto the bed next to you.
“I had no idea you were feeling like this. What can I do to make it better?”
And then you do the unexpected; you climb into Steve’s lap, resting your head on his chest and closing your eyes. His arms snake around you and he holds you close to him, relishing in the feeling of you choosing to be with him like this.
“I love you, angel.”
“Lub you too, Daddy.” You’ve slipped into your littlespace for the first time since they abducted you, allowing yourself to forget about the worries of your life and the anxiety of being kidnapped. You sink into his embrace and sigh, clinging to him like a koala. He peels you off of him for a second and you whimper.
“‘M just getting your jammies so you’re comfy, angel.”
He brings your pyjamas to the bed and slides you out of your current clothes, re-dressing you with the utmost care and attention.
Once you’re done and laying down, you whine softly and reach out with grabby hands.
“Daddy… cuddle.” Steve’s heart melts and his eyes well with tears, causing you to frown, anxiety bubbling in your chest. “Daddy, what wrong?”
“Nothin’, sweet girl. I’m just happy.” He lays down in the bed next to you, enveloping you in his arms. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, letting his warmth lull you to sleep. Just as you begin to drift off, the bed dips the other side of you and Bucky’s chest presses against your back and his chin plants itself into your neck, his lips grazing across your cheek softly, the stubble tickling your face and making you giggle sleepily.
“Dada! Tickles.” you mumble in amusement and Bucky chuckles heartily, the rumbling of his chest vibrating through your entire body.
“I love you, dollface.” Bucky mutters, a smile evident in his voice.
“Lub you too, Dada.” You turn your head to place a chaste peck to his lips and he glances at Steve as you plant your face back into the crook of his neck. Steve beams and whispers quietly over your head.
“She’s breaking.”
1K notes · View notes
nsfwsebbie · 5 months ago
i’m in the water.
summary. | He’s in the wind, and you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.
warnings. | non/dubcon, smut, angst, protectiveness, kidnapping (implied), stockholm syndrome, obsessiveness, death/violence, dark themes, DDLG undertones, creampie kink, choking, piss kink (both pee), degradation, pet play undertones, p in v sex, Master kink, dacryphilia, crawling, slapping, hair pulling, face fucking, boot riding, orgasm denial, spitting, gagging, manhandling, praise, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI.
word count. | 8.5k
pairings. | Dark!Winter Soldier x Naive!Reader.
a/n. | please heed the warnings! i hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. they’re both very hydrated! this takes place in the 90’s! thank you so much @asadmarveltrashbag and @mypoisonedvine for proof reading for me ilysm!!
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From the day you were born, you always felt as though your legs are broken. Always needing crutches throughout your life to hold you up, always needing support. But you never really had these crutches, so you'd always drag your hands against the brick walls to support yourself. Vulnerable, breaking away at the edges, falling down. Nothing kind ever came, and it stays the same for a while.
So maybe that’s why you lean into his icy cold touch. So abrasive and yet so caring. His aspects are juxtaposed to each other, just like in those Magritte paintings your art teacher would show you. She was always a kind lady, but you don’t care enough about her to wonder where she is in life now. She was kind to you, though, so you hope that she isn’t suffering like you are.
Your goosebumps raise for the fifth time in this painfully slow hour.
“Are you cold, кролик?” he asks even though he knows the answer. You hum. You always do. Your voice doesn’t raise in an affirmation. It stays flat; he knows what that means. “Thinking again?” he gruffly presses, squeezes your bare arms. The thin, grey shirt with torn sleeves does nothing to protect your body. But why do you ask for protection against the man who has done everything for you?
“Why… Why do people believe that grey is a boring colour?” you ask him, looking around the dark cell that surrounds you. Soldat grunts, not knowing what to say. “I think it’s quite beautiful. All colours have different shades, yes, but there’s something about grey. Each shade comes with a different emotion. Don’t you think so?” you ask him, looking down to your lap.
A carrot toy sits there. It’s filled with cotton balls from the medical room, by his request. “Yes…” He bites the tip of his tongue, not sure what to say because the Soldat only has a few emotions and a few words. “Why can’t we get a different wall colour?” you question him, turning around to face the man.
“It’s not allowed,” he reminds you. You feel like you’re experiencing déjà-vu, but then again, the days have blurred together so well that you can’t tell if the tape is being put on rewind already. You have to assume that your celluloid scenes are fading away along with your sanity. It’s torn at the seams. Threads hanging that just need to be ripped or cut out.
“Beige would look lovely…” you point out solemnly. The Soldat doesn’t know what shade of beige you’re thinking of, but he believes it would be beautiful nonetheless. “I… have a mission,” he tells you after a while. You hum in that same monotonous tone again, so he squeezes your arm even tighter. “When, Master?” you curiously ask, only now taking in his words.
“Tonight. Approximately at twenty-one hours,” he informs you in that mechanic voice of his that you hate. It makes you feel more trapped and vulnerable, even though there’s quite literally a chip in the back of your neck. “How long?” you ask him softly, a frown already beginning to display itself on your face.
He doesn’t like it when you frown. He prefers the lines that your smile provides over the lines your frown forces. That innocent glint in your eyes shines a bit, flickering like a dull light on the verge of completely blowing. Though it’s not much, it’s still something. And when it goes away, his entire being is filled with darkness.
You’re the light of his life, the fire of his loins.
“Not sure. Extraction of information. Senators and mayors…” He begins to ramble, and you shake your head. “Sorry, кролик,” he apologizes as he notices how uncomfortable you’re starting to get. You hum again. He wonders if you were a bird in your past life, perhaps a hummingbird, to be more exact. Or maybe even a swan or a dove because you’re just as beautiful as they are, if not more.
“You know how to behave, right? Потому что ты мой хороший маленький кролик?” he asks, and you don’t understand the second question, but you understand the former. “I know, Master,” you breathe, an airy ending to your words. “You’ll be good, кролик?” he questions one more time, and you lazily nod. You’re tired. Your body moves at a drowsy pace, and you don’t like it.
You don’t want to sleep, though. Scared that if you shut your eyes for too long, the monsters will come back, and Soldat won’t be able to save you. He always saves you. You’re his damsel, constantly in distress, locked away in a gilded cage. But he tells you it’s not a gilded cage. It’s not a run-down cell built in the fifties. It’s your home, even though you haven’t known what home is like for a while.
“I’ll always be good for you, Master. Please don’t leave for long. I get lonely easily,” you express in small bits of sadness and distress. “I know, кролик, я знаю,” Soldat says as he hugs you closer. You tilt your head backwards and let it lull on his shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he promises, and you know it’s not true because he never fulfills it. “But my carrot can’t keep me company for all those hours… Please stay? Please?” you plead with tears welling in your eyes.
“Я могу составить ей хорошую компанию,” the soldier standing outside the cell mutters under his breath, earning a few snickers from his coworkers. I can keep her in good company, is what he said. And it’s truly unfortunate that the guards have forgotten that the Soldat — the Asset — has super-hearing. Their laughter dies down into sighs, and Winter’s chest begins to heave.
He puffs up like the big bad wolf he is, and he tosses you to the side like a rag doll. You watch him as he strides his way over to the guards. Each step carries the weight of the Winter Soldier, the one who’s ready to kill whoever is in his sight. Except for you. His bionic hand reaches through the metal bars that separate him from the outside world.
He wraps his fingers around the guard’s neck, and he squeezes his throat tightly. As Winter crushes the guard’s windpipe, you watch him behind slightly squinted eyelids. Tears blur your eyesight, and you remember that time when you were holding off the tears so well, you couldn't see the HYDRA van driving ahead of you.
Maybe if you could control your emotions a little better, you wouldn’t be here.
But then again, where would you be without the Soldat? Miserable, stuck in the worst parts of town without anyone. Having to drag your hands across those brick walls, again and again. Surviving on your own, teetering on the edge of death. Just like these men at the hands of the Soldat.
The crunching of bones and the screams of men are all blocked out for you. You focus on Soldat’s arm whirring in the most satisfying harmony you’ve heard in the past two years. Other than the orchestra you both have managed to make almost every day. But you still cup your hands over your ears.
Winter pulls a knife from the guard’s limp body. That very same knife ends up inside his heart, stopping it from pumping. The guards begin shooting at Winter, but he easily shields himself with the metal arm. It goes silent, but you keep your hands over your ears. Muffled talking steps in place of the silence, and you look up to see members of HYDRA staring at your Winter and you.
“Солдат, Что ты натворил?” One of the head agents asks. You believe his name is Vasily Karpov because that is what Winter has told you. “The… The guard said something about my кролик. He’s not supposed to,” Winter explains, looking to the ground. Karpov mutters a chain of curse words under his breath that you’re not too happy about. One of the other agents asks him to speak up, and he snaps.
“Just get him to the armoury! We need to prep him,” he shouts before stalking away from the scene. They all stick around a few more seconds before scurrying off like little mice. The dead bodies still lay on the floor, but nobody seems to really care. What’s happened has happened, and there’s no changing it.
“Привести с собой солдата!” A rough voice blasts through the intercoms, and suddenly, more guards show up at your cell. You curl up into a ball and rest your forehead against your knees. You can’t bear to watch them take him away. You wait until the cell door swings shut, and then men stomp away. But even then, you cannot look up.
Bring the Soldat.
He wears that mask of his. The last time you saw it, it was caked with dirt and blood. You can hear his hard breathing behind it, almost sounding as though he’s just run a marathon. He sits in the edge of the cot — the left corner, to be exact — and he watches you. The Soldat states as you look down at the array of snacks he’s provided you with.
“Kролик,” Winter gruffly calls, and you turn around. You hum and your voice raises at the end. You haven’t done that in a while, so it startles him a bit. “Which one?” he asks, stretching his neck out just a bit to see what snack you’ve chosen. “N… Not sure,” you shyly whisper, ducking your head down in fear.
“Green one,” he says after a while, and you place your hand on it. “I don’t know what it is?” you confusingly say. The Russian text on it confuses you, so you hand it to Winter. “ Sour Patch Kids…” Winter reads out loud, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. “Oh, I like those!” you eagerly cheer, sitting up on your knees. You turn around and reach your hand out for him to give them to you.
They’ve wiped him. You know it, and you hate it. They’ve taken all emotion away from him, and now he’s just an empty shell of a man. His softness from just a few hours ago has now gone away, and you don’t know what to expect of himself. But then again, you never do.
Hesitatingly, he hands it over. “Don’t eat now. Sugar will keep you up,” he warns, and you nod. Your father would say the same thing when you were younger. The only difference is that your father had more love in his voice than Winter ever will. “We need to go over the rules,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You hum again, and he continues. “Do you remember your rules?” Winter asks, and you hum once more.
“Кролик,” he growls, and you look up. “Do you need me to repeat the rules?” Winter questions and you shake your head in objection. He doesn’t listen, though, because he knows you don’t remember them. You never seem to remember the big, important parts of the puzzle. Only the small corner pieces that don’t really matter. “I’ll tell you them anyway, and you’re going to listen to every word I say. Understood, кролик?” he raises his eyebrow, not leaving any room for protesting.
You gulp thickly and nod. “Don’t make any noises, don’t touch yourself, don’t talk to the guards, don’t let anyone touch you, don’t hurt yourself and don’t even think of escaping,” he lists, and the last one makes tears sting your eyes. “I won’t escape. ‘S not like I can even do anything in here,” you whisper under your breath, and he stands up. Metal fingers grip your chin tightly, and Winter slowly kneels down in front of you.
You’re watched like a pet. You always have been. Not even a pet, more like a possession. Seen as an object with no feelings and no emotions. As though you don’t have a heart that pumps crimson blood and lungs that expand with each breath you take. “Don’t ever speak like that again. I can easily stitch those pretty lips of yours shut, кролик,” he threatens, and you feel your tears beginning to leak.
No, no, no, no, no. Not now.
He laughs. He fucking laughs, and you want to cry even more because you need him. You need your support, but he doesn’t want to give it to you. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. “You’re so fucking… precious. Especially when you shed those tears of yours,” he tells you with a hidden smile behind his mask. He squeezes your jaw even tighter, and you whimper out a small ‘thank you, Master’ to him.
“I wasn’t finished listing the rules, so keep your fly shut,” Winter sneers, and you nod your head slowly. “When I get back, which will be in around three hours, you have to finish drinking all those bottles of water,” he stays, snapping his fingers to grab your attention. Your eyes follow those very same fingers as they point at the four bottles of water sitting by the bed.
You never noticed them until just now. “Oh, and you can’t go to the bathroom until I say so,” he adds with a slight humorous chuckle to his voice. Your eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets. “Don’t worry, кролик, I’ll be back so quickly, it’ll feel like a few minutes,” he promises, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. It reminds you of when you were young, and your parents would take you to the beach.
Your parents would build sandcastles with you until they got tired. You would beg your father to piggyback you into the sea, and he would do exactly that. Your mother would carry her disposable camera with her just to take photos that would end up in the green photo album from the thrift store.
And when you got a bit older, you’d go by yourself—older in the sense that you have to start paying the bus fare of $3. You’d head to the beach after dinner and before your parents came home from work. The sky would either be a dark, dark grey or a lovely mix of pastels. The water would wash beneath your feet, pulling and loosening clumps of sand.
Taking it away the same manner Winter took your innocence.
“And remember, if you break any of these rules, I’ll know. And the outcome won’t be as pretty as your face or that pussy of yours, кролик,” Soldat warns, and you nod your head. “Yes, Master,” you shyly say to him. You want to look down at the concrete flooring so badly, but his iron-clad grip on you doesn’t loosen until a minute after your words. He looks down at you, and you look away. His strong gaze is just as powerful as the summer sun that would beat down on your skin.
“Прощай, кролик.”
You never realized how thirsty you were until just now. You’ve finished all four bottles in the span of two hours, and now you’re counting down the minutes until Soldat arrives. There are no guards standing outside your cell, so you’re all alone. Not even your intrusive thoughts have visited, and you wonder if the water was spiked.
You were never that good at telling time. It would always take you a few seconds to find the minute hand and the hour hand. But the digital clock that is on the wall across from your cell is quite helpful. It even has seconds on it, too. So you count down out loud, trying to ignore the full feeling in your stomach.
Stomping echoes down the hallways, and you don’t know if he’s close by or meters away from you. You never could tell. Russian words fall off the agents’ tongues, and sometimes you wish you could understand them. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like such an outsider even though you’re trapped in their home. “Ты свободен, солдат,” one of the agents say, and you can hear Winter grunt.
You’re free to go, Soldat.
His big, heavy feet stomp down the hallway. The sounds bounce off the greyish-green walls, stained with different things such as blood and dirt. You can hear his metal arm whirring, and your heart jumps with fear. You’re not scared of him; you’re scared of what he’s capable of.
Oh, who are you kidding? You’re terrified of him.
The guards open up the cell door, and you look up, locking eyes with his. They’re dark and empty as they usually are. “Кролик,” he growls, and you whimper. You run up to him and hug him, feeling the water slosh inside of you. You slow your breathing down the same way your elementary school nurse told you to when you were younger and try your hardest not to throw up.
“Missed me, hm?” Winter questions and you nod meekly. Though you didn’t want to admit it two years ago, you do now. “Missed you lots, Master,” you tell him. The leather is cold against your warm skin. If you focus just a bit more, you could feel the creases of the fabric as well. But you’re too busy with him, so you ignore it. “W- Was the mission good, Master?” you nervously ask him, only out of curiosity and nothing more.
“As always. Were you good, кролик?” Soldat questions in return, rightfully so. You nod eagerly and fiddle with your fingers behind his back. He acts like he can’t feel it, just for you not to stop hugging him. “Good girl… You seem like you want something. Out with it,” he orders, and you gulp in fear.
“I… I was wondering if I could go to the bathroom,” you meekly tell Winter, looking down to the ground. His boots are shiny and polished. Cleaner than anything you’ve seen before, and it’s confusing. He usually comes in covered with dirt, sweat, tears and blood. “You need to go to the bathroom, кролик?” he asks as if he didn’t hear you beforehand.
You shyly nod and unwrap your arms from around his broad torso. You wonder if he left the mission unscathed or not. Winter chuckles. It’s breathy, airy, sly and dark. “Aw, кролик, you’re adorable, the cutest кролик of them all. It’s too bad I’m not going to let you,” he sneers in that faux fantasy tone of his. You furrow your eyebrows and so desperately want to beg him, but it’s out of line, and he never asked, so you stay quiet.
Winter grabs your hand and drags you to the cot, reminding you of the way you’d pull your parents to the shore so they can play in the water with you. They’d both laugh before your father would tackle you in the water, and your mother would push him down in retaliation. You’d always resubmerge from the water with a smile on your face and laughter bellowing throughout the beach.
You miss those times.
You let him guide you to the bed you wish wasn’t yours. “What did you do while I was gone, кролик?” Soldat questions, sitting down on the canvas of the bed. You’re placed on his lap, almost as though he’s forcing you to reclaim a throne you need. And it’s true; you need him. His hands fall to your waist, and Winter holds you in place. “I drank all the water as you asked, and I just sat here, Master,” you recount to him, leaving out the parts of the past three hours he doesn’t need to know.
He hums in the same manner as you. “That’s all?” he questions, and you slowly nod your head. “Good, I’d hate to have to punish you this late in the night,” he says, pinching the skin on your torso. You don’t whimper because you’re used to it. He calls it affection, and so do you. Winter’s hands move from your sides to the front of your stomach, caressing you with a bit of pressure being put on your bladder.
You whimper and try to play it off with a cough, but you know deep down he doesn’t buy it. Soldat continues to run his hand against your stomach the same way you’d run across the shore. Slow, wary, yet with care from the ground beneath you. You like to think of the simpler, more happier times. You know if Winter pushes a little harder, you may not be able to control yourself any longer.
The pressure in your bladder grows every few seconds, so you squirm around in his lap. Your weight shifts from his left thigh to his right thigh, over and over, and he knows exactly what’s wrong. “Кролик… Are you feeling all tingly?” he asks you. You nod your head, but you take in his words. Meanings and implications are always lost with you. They fly over your head the same way birds do, and you only see them with someone's direction.
“N- No, Master, I just have to pee really badly…” you clarify to him, and he nods his head in understanding. You smile as a spark of hope lights inside of your heart. “I don’t think you do, кролик, I already told you,” he assures, and you sigh. “I- I know, Master, I’m sorry,” you apologize and drop your head down. “I think you’re having those tingles, кролик, is your little cunt wet?” Soldat questions even though you don’t have to answer.
His hand travels between your legs and to your pussy, cupping it tightly. You whimper and involuntarily grind against his hand. “You’re absolutely soaked, кролик! Were you thinking of me?” he interrogates, and you just go with it. “Y- Yes, Master, was thinking of you all the time,” you whisper to him. He squeezes your cunt tighter and purrs in your ear. “Then why didn’t you tell me beforehand, кролик?” Winter presses, and you feel fear pump through your veins.
“I- I knew you were tired from the mission, so I didn’t want to bother you, Master. I’m sorry, please forgive me!” you plead, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. Your heart sinks to your stomach with each sound he makes, and you want death to take you right here, right now. The Soldat pushes you to the ground, and you fall with a loud ‘thud!’. Your knees hit the concrete hard, and you can feel your old scars open up a bit.
One was from a poor fall at the beach. Your father carried you home, and your mother tried to soothe you. You were only six at the time, but it felt like your world was ending.
Winter’s metal hand grabs your hair and tugs on your locks painfully. You bite back a pained moan as he yanks your head back. It’s not the first time he has nearly given you whiplash. He changes moods faster than anyone you’ve ever met. The Soldat walks around you, and you follow him with your eyes. “It’s okay, кролик. I’m not mad at you. I’m gonna treat you so well; you’re gonna love me even more,” he promises with a dark glint in his eyes.
He wedges his boot between your legs and underneath your cunt. “Get comfy, шлюха,” he orders. You shift yourself a bit, trying to alleviate any aches you feel, but it seems as though he wants you to be uncomfortable. Your pussy rests on his foot, and you wonder what he’s up to. His hand tilts your head to look up at him. You want to look away, just like when you’d look at the bright sun on a hot summer day. It was always too much to look at, but the sight was so captivating you couldn’t turn away.
“You said you wanted to go pee, right, маленькая потаскушка?” he questions, and you confusingly nod. “Then go ahead, do it,” he orders. You gasp, quite loudly, in fact. The reaction doesn’t please your Master, so he yanks on your hair a little tighter. “What’s wrong, сука? I thought that’s what you needed?” he interrogates, and you nod. “Yes, Master, but not like this,” you reason, and he growls. “I give you protection, I give you food, I give you my cum, I give you everything you need. What’s wrong now? Don’t you love me?” Winter asks.
Your heart quite literally breaks in two.
“I do, Master! I love you so much!” you promise, feeling those stupid tears of yours starting to well up. “Then why aren’t you listening to me, you dumb baby? Hm?” he presses, and panic begins to rise in your chest. The tears stream down your face the same way the waves would engulf you at the age of 7. “It’s just uncomfortable, Master, that’s all…” you reason with him. “Well, I don’t care. You’re gonna do it anyway, okay? I thought you were a good bunny for me…” Winter trails off as if he’s lost all hope and cause.
It makes you want to cry even harder.
Sniffling, you wipe your tears and try not to give up. “I am your good bunny, Master. Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to!” you beg once again, and he grows weary of your patheticness. Winter bends down, and his flesh hand goes to the front of your flimsy shirt. Thin cotton rips away easily, with barely any strength coming from his behalf. The grey cloth is in two pieces, and he pushes them off your shoulders.
Your nipples harden as soon as the cool air brushes against them. Winter’s hand leaves your head, and you feel alone without his touch. “Seems like you forgot your place, кролик… You don’t get what you want; you get what you deserve. And what you deserve is to be put in your place,” he tells you, and your bones rattle with fear. The sound of a belt clinking and a zipping being pulled down grabs your attention, and you hold back a hearty sigh.
The Soldat stares you down as he throws his belt to the side just like he did you a few hours ago. “I can’t believe you, honestly. Думая, что ты так выше меня, пытаясь помешать мне делать то, что я хочу. After this, you’re going to regret ever talking back to me like that ever again,” he rants under his breath like the mad man he is. Your tears have dried up, but your bottom lip starts to wobble again. He huffs, tired of seeing you cry.
Winter halts his movements and goes to remove his mask, the one thing that’s been hiding that sinister smirk of his. The dark, matte material is clutched between the tips of his cut-up, bruised fingers. He carefully places the mask on your face, covering your mouth and nose. The action shuts you up, just like how he wants. You look up at him without blinking your tears away. You let them fall and soak the mask, staining it with your waterworks.
The Soldat pulls his big, thick cock out of his tactical pants. His cock is as hard as a rock, blooding pumping down to it, and his veins throb on the side of his shaft. Beads of precum drip down from his tip, rolling down his cock. He’s a raging red, desperate to be inside of you. His metal head returns to your head, and he brings you higher up in your knees. Your neck cranes at such a painful angle that the ache in your knees is ignored.
“You better fucking look at me while I teach you your lesson, шлюха,” he warns, and you listen to him easily. Through your haze of pained tears, you manage to look into his eyes. You’re not sure what he wants to do and what he’s going to do. You never do. The Soldat is unpredictable, and even in your two years of knowing him, you’ll never understand how the gears in his mind turn.
“Not so dumb after all, huh,” he chuckles before shaking his head. Winter sighs and smiles down at you. “One last chance, шлюха,” he tells you in a sing-song voice. You don’t say anything, and the Soldat clicks his tongue. Suddenly, instead of the delicious precum, he would usually make you lap up like a kitten, clear streams of warmth hit your chest. You gasp behind the mask, but it comes out as muffled nonsense to him.
“Stop!” you cry out to him, but your words are once again muffled. His pee soaks your chest as he relieves himself from the pressure in his bladder. Your hands bat at his stiff thighs, hitting them just so that he can stop humiliating you and treating you like you’re all but human. Winter growls, and his metal arm drops your head, and he slaps your hands away. His pee covers your tits and drips down your skin, staining you with disgust and humiliation.
The streams soon stop, and you’re sobbing even louder now. “Oh shut it, this isn’t even as bad of a punishment. I’m going easy on you, шлюха, I could easily do worse,” Soldat growls as the slightly tinted liquid drips from the tip and onto the ground. Your chest stutters with sobs, and you can barely breathe. You’re covered and coated like a freshly bought canvas, and Winter’s just ruined you. Almost in the same manner that you’d destroy your father’s canvas with your cheap, dollar store paint.
Winter bends down and grabs what was once your shirt and is now just a piece of cloth. Kind of like how your mother would give you any leftover scraps of fabric to make something for you. She’d never let anything go to waste. He uses it to wipe the drops of urine that still drip from his cock, and then he throws it at you like you mean nothing to him. You let it fall to the ground because there’s no possible way a piece of cloth that was once on your back can fix your honour.
But who are you kidding? You lost your honour the moment you gave into the Soldat, just like you always do.
You stretch your arms out to him, silently pleading for comfort from him. But he shakes his head with a sly smile on his face. “Aw, you want your Master to help you out, мой питомец?” Winter questions, and you eagerly nod your head. His metal hand goes to remove the mask, but he stops as soon as he touches it. “Say please,” he orders with faux sympathy in his voice. “Please, Master,” you beg to him, and he smiles.
Winter places his hand back on the mask and yanks it off of your face. The sides scratch your cheeks a bit, but that’s not what matters. “T- Thank you, Master. I love you so much,” you tell him before struggling to put a smile on your face. At the end of the day, no matter how brutal he is with you, you’ll always love him. ...Right? “You’re welcome, кролик,” he says as he throws the mask to where his belt lies.
Your cheeks are sticky and stained with tears, much like your chest. Winter’s flesh hand cups your left cheeky lightly, and he’s back to being the gentleman who has killed for you on numerous occasions. He wipes away the wetness on your cheek as his other hand goes to his cock, grabbing the base of it. “Say ‘ah,’ моя маленькая шлюшка,” he orders before you can even register his signature Cheshire smirk.
His cock is shoved inside your mouth without any warning. He always does that. No heads up, no preparation, nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Winter wiggles his foot that’s underneath your cunt, and the sudden friction is startling. He calls you bunny because of this reason. You can get off on anything, and you’re always needy for him. “I can see how wet you are, шлюха. You’re soaking my boot with that little pussy of yours,” he coos.
You don’t realize how wet you are until he points it out. You’re absolutely soaking, and you’re not sure why. But for the utmost incomprehensible reason ever, you don’t care.
His cock slides down your throat until your nose nuzzles against his pubic bone. His balls touch your chin, and your saliva coats his cock thickly. Your throat and side of your kissable mouth both hurt horribly, but you ignore the pain just for him. “You’re my good little bunny, right?” he questions, and you nod while his cock rests on your tongue. “And good little bunnies like you always listen to their Masters, right?” Winter asks, and you nod again.
He smiles. His hand on your cheeks moves to the back of your head slowly, returning to its newfound home. “I bet you want to come, don’t you, кролик?” he interrogates, and he’s not wrong. You really do want to come, and you’re a bit ashamed of it. “Master will let you come, don’t worry. I’m gonna let you have cummies, кролик,” he promises, and you happily giggle around his cock.
“Go on, hump my boot like the little bunny you are,” he pushes, and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. You want to protest so badly, but the memories of what he just did to you freshly flood your mind like the memories from when you were younger. “Are you that stupid that I have to explain how to get yourself off? Or are you just not listening to me, кролик?” he asks in a tone that reminds you of subdued thunder.
You shake your hand and try to move your hips around a bit. Your soaking wet pussy grinds against the leather of Winter’s shoe, and your clit throbs at the feeling. Winter’s cock slides out of your mouth until the fat tip of it is all that’s left, and then he quickly shoves it back in. Your loud gags and his moans fill the room like music. Your loss of oxygen makes you see stars, and you can recall how much your father loved to paint the midnight skies until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.
Your old toothbrushes would serve as the home of the clouds of dust that the stars would be born from. His fingers would be covered in white paint that would fall off in the water and swirl down the sink. His black t-shirts would have white freckles on them, and your mother would always suggest for him to turn the cloth into a galaxy. He’d always tell her one day, and you’d always remind him of that day whenever you’d catch him painting.
“Fuck, you always do look even prettier with my cock in your mouth, кролик,” he swears, and you smile around his cock. Oh, well, you at least try to smile. You continue to rub yourself against his boot as he uses your throat as he pleases. Your hole drools with want, and your slick gives his shoe a shine that is unmatched by any other substance. The burning, fiery feeling on your clit spreads to your abdomen, and you can feel yourself being brought closer to the edge.
You’re moaning around his thick cock, sending sinful vibrations throughout him. “Fuck, are you gonna come, кролик?” he questions as he feels you hug his leg. You nod around his cock, and he begins to push your head back and forth of his cock, matching your desperate movements. He uses you like a fleshlight, and you’re used to it. “Well, too fucking bad, шлюха, you’re not allowed to come,” he spits, and your hips freeze in place.
“I didn’t say stop, did I? No, I didn’t, continue, шлюха,” he sneers, and you listen to the Soldat. You’re not sure how you’re going to stave off your orgasm, but you’ll do anything for him. You slowly begin to grind your hips back and forth on his boot again, trying to slow your breathing down, and Winter fucks your face sloppily. “Fuck, you want my cum, don’t you, кролик?” he questions, and you squeeze his leg tighter.
Winter pulls his cock out abruptly and pinches the base, staving off his release only for a few seconds. “I said, don’t you want my cum, шлюха?” he asks once again, and you nod. Saliva coats your mouth, and you can barely catch your breath. “I- I really want your cum, Master, please! Please give me your cum,” you plead to him with a ditzy look in your eyes. You wiggle your hips side to side just to give off the impression that you’re getting yourself off.
But you can’t fool the fooler. Nobody can.
“I’m going to give you all my cum, шлюха, and you’re going to take it all like a good girl,” he moans as he shoves his cock back into your mouth. Winter shoves himself deep inside your throat until you can’t take any more of his length. You swallow around his cock, and he moans loudly, swearing in Russian. The words roll off his tongue skillfully, and you feel yourself getting even wetter.
He grabs your head even tighter and bobs your skull up and down his cock a few more times before finally hitting his release. His balls tighten up, and a deep, throaty moan leaves his mouth in the best way ever. Hot, sticky ropes spurt down your throat before you can even register the way he throws his head back. Winter’s long hair spills on the sides of his head as his cum spills down your throat. You have no choice but to swallow, but it’s not like you want to spit his seed out anyways.
Winter lets out a deep moan that goes straight to your core, and his hand pats your head in a praising manner. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl,” he praises as he slowly pulls his sensitive cock out of your mouth. Your cunt flutters with sensitivity, and you want to come so badly, but you just can’t. The Soldat takes a few steps back, slipping his foot away from your aching pussy. You let out a whimper, and he smiles.
“I’m not done with you, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and your heart flutters. You’ve managed to ignore the building pressure in your bladder, but now it seems to come back stronger. “C- Can I go pee first, Master?” you politely ask him, still on your knees. Even that ache has returned, but it’s the least important thing as of now. He ignores your question as he works on the numerous straps on his battle uniform.
Skillful fingers take off the leather vest he wears, revealing a bulletproof protectant that saves him from certain dangers. “Get on the bed, кролик,” Winter orders as he continues to strip himself. You begin to stand up on your wobbly, scarred legs, but he tuts. “Uh uh, not like that,” he interjects, walking back to you. He pushes you back onto the floor, and you fall with a sob. “On your knees, because that’s what you deserve. Nothing more, шлюха,” he sneers, and you sniffle.
You slowly crawl to the bed. Each time your knees touch the ground, you burn up with both arousal and humiliation. And it’s not like the action is making your need to go to the bathroom any better. The abrupt movement makes the liquid slosh inside you, and you want to burst out in tears, begging Winter to just let you relieve yourself. Your hands have slight scars from your nails, and it reminds you of when your father would encourage you to do the monkey bars.
You’d always try to swing yourself to the end with all your might. But you never could do it. You’d fall down to the ground and leave the park wailing. The scars and blisters on your hand would make your parents so upset, but that never stopped you from wanting to go back and try again. Eventually, you got too old to try, and it would always upset you. Maybe one day you’ll be able to try again— one day.
You hear zippers unzipping and velcro cracking behind you as you get on the bed. The coolness of the sheets is so refreshing against your hot skin. It soothes you for a few seconds, but it eventually loses its worth. You turn around and face him with a sort of dumbfounded look on your face. He fucking loves it; Winter always does. He’s naked, fully naked, and even his signature tactical boots have been discarded.
If you squint, you could see the way your wetness shines on his boot. “Good girl, such as good little bunny,” he praises, and you can feel yourself get flustered. Winter climbs onto the bed, staring you dead in the eyes. He kneels in front of you with a wicked smirk, and he brings his flesh hand up to your throat. You let out a gasp as he squeezes your neck tightly before he leans in closer to you.
The Soldat’s face is just a mere few centimetres away from yours. You can feel each breath that he takes against your skin. His hard cock rests against your sticky chest, and he’s still hard as fuck. “Open your mouth, кролик,” he orders, and you instantly do so. You wait for his cock to be stuffed in your mouth once again, but it never comes. You watch as he puckers his lips up before spitting right by your mouth.
You choke in surprise as his saliva slowly drips into your mouth, landing on your sore tongue. You whimper at the feeling, and Winter has a proud smile on his face. He pulls his head away from yours, in the same manner your father would whenever he’d finish one of his masterpieces. “Swallow it all, кролик, I know you want to,” he orders in a sing-song voice.
You follow his demand obediently. You can’t lie; the sheer act of him spitting in your mouth and forcing you to swallow it makes you even wetter. You’d take anything he gives you. “You’re such a good girl, you know that right?” he questions, and your chest heaves. Winter’s cock twitches against you, and you so desperately want him inside you. But there’s nothing you want more than to go relieve yourself.
His metal hand comes up to your face, and you think he’s going to lovingly hold you. You absolutely adore it when he strokes your cheeks. The Soldat’s thumb touches the soft yet slightly sweaty skin of your face and moves back and forth. Chills run down your spine, and you smile into his touch. He suddenly pulls his hand away, and he strikes you roughly. You let out a cry as your skin stings and prickles from the hit.
He does it again and again until your tears soak his hand. Your cheek is practically numb from the pain. You can feel his cock leaking with cum, and you know that he’s going to fuck you, just like you want him to. “Did you forget your manners?” Winter harshly questions, and you quickly shake your head. “T- Thank you, Master,” you whisper to him, and he smiles.
“Master… Can I please go to the bathroom? Please, it hurts,” you beg to him, but he just shakes his head. “P- Please, Master? I’ll be a good girl, I promise!” you plead to him as your tears run down your face even quicker. He ignores your cries for relief, and he instead slams you onto the bed. Your mind is a mess as he combs on top of you, and the aches you have only get stronger.
The hand that was slapping some sense into you finds a new home on your stomach, right above your swollen bladder. He pushes down on your stomach slightly, and you kick your legs. “Shh, none of that, no, stop it,” he shushes, and you try your hardest to not let go right there and then. “Master knows what you need, okay? And right now, you need my cock, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and you sob.
The hand on your throat moves to his cock, and he grabs his thick base. The veins on the side throb with need, and in one thrust, he bottoms out inside you. You barely have the time to register what’s just happened. The painful stretch of his cock radiates throughout your core, and you dig your nails into the scarred skin of your palms. His tip nudges against your g-spot, and you coat his cock with your wetness.
Winter is buried inside you to the hilt, filling you up to the brim. His swollen, heavy balls rest against your ass, and you both try to get used to the connection. The painful stretch dulls down to an exquisite pleasure, and Winter loves the way your tight cunt gets used to his thick cock. He’s splitting you in two, but he simply does not care. His hand returns back to your throat, and this time, he squeezes the sides of your neck even tighter.
Winter pulls his cock out until his fat tip is the only thing resting inside of your pussy. He slams back into you roughly, and you let out a cry. Your jaw falls slack as the Soldat begins to fuck into your relentlessly. His balls slap against your ass, and your loud, short-lived moans fill the cell that you’ve grown to love. “Fucking hell, кролик, your pussy feels so good,” he growls, slamming into you even harder.
Your tits bounce with every movement he makes. The pleasure sears through your body as Winter hammers against your poor g-spot with each thrust he makes. “Master, please, I need to go really badly,” you beg to him as he continues to fuck you. He shakes his head in objection before pushing down on your stomach even harder. You let out a wail and try to squirm away, but you only worsen things for yourself.
“No, you don’t, кролик. The only thing you need is my cock,” the Soldat tells you, and you upsettingly toss your head back. “No, Master, please, I don’t wanna make a mess,” you reason with him, but he just doesn't seem to want to listen. “I know that, кролик, but you need to listen to me, okay? You don’t need to go; you just need me,” he growls lowly, and you can feel him pushing harder on your bladder.
“No- Wait, Master, please stop pushing on me,” you implore to him as a moan follows your words. Your silky, wet cunt hugs his cock as the tingly feeling in your bladder becomes stronger. You want to cross your legs and stop it from growing, but you can’t. Pressure builds up in your core, and you’re not sure if you’re going to come or if you’re going to make a mess and humiliate yourself.
“Let go, мой тупой ребенок, I know you want to so badly. You can make a mess, do it,” Winter urges, and you shake your head. “No, Master, please stop it,” you cry to him, but he only fucks you harder. One specific thrust hits your cervix, and you yell out in pain before even realizing what’s happened. Warmth trickles down your thighs and onto his cock. You let out a wail as humiliation blossoms from your soul.
Though there’s nobody else watching, you’re still embarrassed. And that wicked smirk on Winter’s face does nothing to help you out. The sound of it makes your back sweat, and you want the ground to open up and take you home. Your urine wets the sheets beneath you, and your tears wet your face. “God, look at you. You finally got what you wanted, and here you are, crying like a fucking brat. You’re so ungrateful. Do you even deserve my cum?” he questions with disgust on his tongue.
You struggle to nod, but you do it anyway. The last thing you need is to have your Master upset with you. “‘M sorry, Master, please forgive me,” you plead to him. You continue to relieve yourself, and he continues to fuck you despite the mess you’re making in his shaft. “Такой грязный, глупый малыш. Ты такой жалкий, ты же знаешь это, да?” he questions even though you only know one simple word of Russian. You moan loudly as you slowly stop making a mess and begin to feel your orgasm building up.
“Aw, are you gonna come, кролик?” Winter asks you in a condescending tone, one that makes you even wetter. The lewd sounds that come from your pussy as just as humiliating as what you’ve just done, but you don’t care. You’re too busy getting fucked stupid. “Fuck, I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my cum; watch it leak out of you. You always do look prettier when you’re filled up with my cum,” he moans as his thrusts grow sloppy.
“Master, ‘m gonna c- come,” you whimper to him, laying in your own piss. “Go ahead, шлюха, come on my cock. You already made a mess on me twice, might as well do it for the third time,” Winter growls, moving the hand that lays on your stomach. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you closer towards his cock. Hot flames lick at your abdomen as you hit your climax, seeing stars in your vision.
Your reality is warped as you can barely make out the look on Winter’s face. Darkness takes over your vision in the same manner as the clouds would take over the skies on those hot summer days. They would hide the pretty sun for a few minutes, and then they’d leave eventually. Your pussy clamps down on his cock tightly as you coat him with your juices, making him moan.
You wail loudly as you clench around him, making him groan. “Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he asks without waiting for an answer. You nod as he fucks you through your orgasm, not even caring about how overstimulated you are. His cock slips in and out of you with ease and his thrusts begin to grow sloppy. “Tell me how much you want my cum,” he demands, fucking you even slower.
“I- I want your cum really badly, Master. I need it so badly; please fill me up with your cum!” you politely beg to you as you come down from your much-needed high. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so nicely, кролик, you’re gonna beg me to fuck you again,” Winter husks as his balls tighten up. A string of Russian words leave his mouth, and you have to assume that it’s all foul language.
Warm, white ropes of cum paint your walls as he pushes deep inside your cunt while coming. Winter’s blue eyes squeeze shut, and you both moan at the feeling. He fills you up just like he promised, and you bite down on your lips. Everything has dried, and you feel disgusted, so you try to focus on the way his cum pumps inside you. His cock stays inside you, but he doesn’t soften at all, and you know what that means. Winter falls on top of your sticky chest with a sigh, and tears sting your eyes.
Though he says you need him, you wonder if that’s really true.
2K notes · View notes
mhysa-leesi · 25 days ago
ᗷEᗯᗩᖇE TᕼE ᗯᕼITE ᗯOᒪᖴ
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Pairing: Dark Viking!Bucky Barnes 𝒳 (femme) Reader ⚔.
Summary: "In an attempt to help pay off his many debts, your father makes a deal with a ruthless chieftain. When he is unable to hold up his end of the deal, the White Wolf comes to collect his prize."
Word Count: 4,951 (this is a longer one, babes, sowwy.)
TW: Non-Con, VERY Dub-Con, Smut, Loss of Virginity, Slight Breeding Kink (if you squint), Exhibitionism, "Forced" Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, (Inaccurate) Viking Themes, Mentions of Side Characters (Steve, Natasha), Use of Threats, EXTREME Physical Violence (I'm so sorry, Natasha bby I love you), Strong Language, and Questionable Old Norse (Beiskaldi=Bitch, I think), (Kisa=Kitten/Kitty), (Húsbóndi=Husband), (Kona=Wife), (Frue=Lady). 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼
ɴᴏᴛᴇ: *Sigh* here is another self-indulgent and unscheduled Bucky fic for yall... Enjoy! ;) **ALL GRAMMATICAL MISTAKES ARE MY OWN.
AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. If you'd like to join my permanent taglist to stay updated on new and upcoming fics, please fill out this Google Form. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.
AN Cont.: If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION.
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Wands of reaching branches became dancing shadows in the moonlight as a cool night breeze blew in from the north. In the dead of night, along the starlit horizon and through the tangle, was flickering flamelight. In that growing light a silhouette of a man on horseback took shape from the shadows. He rode upon a stallion as black as the shadowy darkness that shrouded him, with a mane like spun silver under the starlight. The stirrups and bridle were inlaid with silver and gold.
Holding the horse’s reins was a man with dark hair on his head and stubbled chin. His blue eyes were smeared with black kohl and he wore an axe at his side and smelled of tobacco leaves, and cinnamon. The man dismounted, his cloak of snowy wolf’s pelt billowing around him as he came down. There was a sudden stillness, then. The dark, shadowed woods stood as noble warriors in the chieftain’s presence, and the amber and crimson leaves fell to his feet without so much as a whisper.
Your father bowed, kneeling before the chieftain until his beard touched the moonlit earth, “Thank you for meeting me this night, Chieftain.”
The path that your father led them down was bestrewed with fallen leaves of gold and deep green that rustled with life in the gentle wind. They moved silently across the sloping fields, silvered with moonlight to a dark wooden-walled cottage with carved furniture, and a firelit hearth. Bucky, the jarl, sat at the head of the table, with Steve, his guard, alongside him. The two men ate on goat’s cheese and stale bread with honey, and drank bitter ale until their bellies were full and satisfied. Your father stood beside the fireside on shaking legs, his walking stick tight in his grasp as he served the two Vikings.
“This meal was pathetic, Halfdan,” said Bucky as he swigged the last of the bitter ale.
Your father bowed his head to the jarl, “It is all my family and I can afford, my Jarl.”
Bucky sucked his teeth, “And that was what you wanted to discuss. What you can and cannot afford, hm?”
“Yes, my Jarl,”
“Then speak,” Bucky lazed.
Your father shifted his weight onto his stick as he poured the men another goblet of ale.
“I was injured during the Battle of Iyg many winters ago, and my leg hasn’t been the same since,” he began, “I’m a farmer, you see, and farmer’s need their legs to do good work. I cannot tend to my crops with one good leg, and if I cannot tend to my crops come time for harvest, I cannot repay the debts I owe.”
“And what of your family? Have you no sons? Thralls?” Steve asked from his seat with a quirked brow.
“No, I have no sons, and I cannot afford a thrall,” your father said, “I have only two daughters, and they can only do so much to help me.”
Your father paused as he looked to Bucky. His eyes were hard as he watched the flicking flames without expression, but his eyes followed the flame’s dance.
“What’s your proposal, bonde? I’m growing bored,” Bucky grumbled out.
Your father hung his head in shame as he spoke, “As I said, I have two daughters. If I cannot repay your debts, you can take one… O–or both, if you so desire.”
Bucky looked away from the flames, then. Your father shrunk under his gaze, shifting uncomfortably as Bucky intriguingly considered his offer. He tossed down a pouch of gold coin at him, “You have a deal.”
Winter arrived on an icy wind. The rivers ran still under sheets of thin ice, and wintry twigs twisted as they bore ornamented crystals, and the once lush green fields were now sparkled with frost that cracked and crunched underfoot. Snow fell softly from a pearl grey sky, landing on your eyelashes as they pirouetted down without a breeze. The air was frozen lace latticed on your lungs as you breathed in the wintry morning air. Snowflakes kicked up in clouds of glittering ice as you ran among the naked winter trees, laughing as you and your sister raced through the drifts.
“Last one home has to shovel horse shit!” you yelled over your shoulder as you pumped your legs harder.
“Hope you like the smell!” your sister shouted back as she hurled a snowball your way.
The ball of snow hit the tree just beside you, “You dirty cheater!”
You ducked and dodged as your sister kept on her barrage of snowballs, never relenting her attack. Your laughter echoed throughout the morning as you came up the slope that led to your home. You shot down the path that was glittered with white, fresh snow, and leaped through the threshold of the front fence. You laughed triumphantly as you looked back at your sister, who was panting with her hands on her knees.
“I want a rematch,” she panted.
“I didn’t know you were such a sore loser Gro,” you said handing her the shovel, “Maybe I’ll let you win next time.”
You feigned a hurt gasp, “I’ll tell father.”
Your sister scowled at you as she snatched the shovel from your frozen hands, grumbling as she stomped down to the stables. You went inside, kissed your father on the cheek and began your evening chore of preparing supper. You shelled the peas and boiled the stew and cabbage. The sun was beginning to set below the horizon when you finished cooking. You and your sister set the table as your father tended to the hearth.
You all supped your split pea soup in comfortable silence as the fire crackled on. You and your sister made faces at one another as you ate, challenging each other to keep your laughs in. You were about to crack when a loud knocking at the door startled you. Your sister’s face dropped as she looked out the window. You turned and saw a group of men dressed in furs, adorned with silver and iron.
“Stay here,” your father said as he struggled to his feet, his walking stick in hand as he went out to meet the men.
“Who do you think those men are?” you asked your sister as you both squished together to watch through the small window.
Your older sister frowned, “Probably debt collectors, you know how father is.”
You mirrored her frown as one of the men locked eyes with yours. Your heart began to pound as you watched your father drop to his knees for a man dressed in white furs, he was begging, and on the verge of tears. Gro, your older sister, pulled you from the window and behind her as a blonde man barged into your home. You couldn’t help the yelp that left you as he dragged you and your sister out into the snow. Above, the light of the full moon silvered the smoothed the harsh edges of the land, softening the hard features of the men before you.
“Father?” your sister spoke thickly through her tightening throat.
You pulled your sister closer by her arm as your father avoided her tearful gaze. The snow fell around you silently, dropping from the night sky like falling stars. Your breaths came out in puffs as you breathed in the icy air, your teeth chattering as the wintry bite tore through your thin tunic. Your eyes landed on the only man still mounted, his black stallion stomping the snow as streams of clouded breath left its flared nostrils. He caught your wandering eyes and dismounted with a softened thud.
Your sister hugged you tighter as the man in white wolf’s fur came closer, his icy blue eyes striking against the black kohl.
“Please,” your father begged once more, “I–I can pay. Next harvest season--I’ll pay you double--triple!”
The man stopped before you and your sister, looming down on your shivering forms. He turned and glared at your father, “We had a deal, Halfdan. You missed not only one, but two payments. Now,” he turned back to you and your sister, “I’ve come to collect.”
Your heart sank as you made sense of his words. It couldn’t be true, your father would never make such a deal… Would he?
Your sister gasped as she was pulled from you. The man looked down his nose at her, making a face as he shoved her away, “That one smells of horse shit.”
You froze as he made his way toward you. You wanted to run, to hide, but your body was ice. He stopped in front of you without a word. He touched you, then; moving wild strands of hair out of your face and behind your ear. You stiffened as you felt his fingers brush down your cheek to your lips, gently caressing the soft skin of your lower lip as he tilted your chin up.
He looked into your eyes for a moment before releasing you. You stood confused as he remounted his midnight-colored steed.
“Take her,” he commanded. Those words--just those two words were enough to ignite chaos.
Your sister fought against the men as they grabbed you. You sputtered and screamed for your father, begging him to rescue you, to not let these men take you away. You beat against the back of the blonde man as he threw you over his shoulder.
“Papa!” you cried. Your father limped after you, his heart shattering as the endearment echoed throughout the night. You hadn’t called him that since you were a girl. Now, as a woman, he was watching you being taken away from him. You reached out for him as he got closer, praying to the gods you’d be able to take his hand.
You cried out as your father stumbled and tripped in the snow, his walking stick flying from his hands. Your sister dropped next to your father, helping him to his feet. She looked at you with tears streaking down her cheeks. The blonde man set you atop the White Wolf’s horse and that was the last you saw of your family. You’d forever remember the look of mourning in your sister’s eyes as she and your father were forced to watch you being taken away.
He held you close to him as you rode toward the outskirts of your village. You traveled for hours until a warm firelight came into view from the darkness. You felt hands roam your waist, pressing your hips flush against his. You squirmed in his grasp, wanting to fall from the horse rather than be subjected to his wandering hands; but instead of letting you go, he held you tighter. He breathed in your scent, his lips against your neck as he husked in your ear.
“You smell of sugared cranberries,” he said and you shivered as his warm breath tickled your neck. His hands reached up to cup your breasts, roughly pinching your hardened nipples from the cold. You wriggled against him, stopping when you felt his hardness grind into you. Arms snaked around your waist to keep you from escaping, you panicked as you felt his hand dip under the band of your skirt, cupping your sex with rough hands. He touched places that had you mewling, your face burning with shame as you rocked your hips into his hand.
He kept fueling that fire deep within your belly, humming in your ear as he coaxed the quietest of whimpers from you. Unfamiliar voices snapped you out of your pleasure, then. Your eyes snapped open and you clawed at his hands that were touching up your body. He hissed as you dug your nails into him, laughing as he easily wretched your hands away.
“You fight like a little kitten,” he taunted.
He dismounted as you rode through tall, torchlit gates; hauling you down with him. You pulled against his grasp, digging your heels into the snow as you fought. The men that had traveled with you all laughed at your feeble attempts to escape the man with the white wolf’s fur.
“You’ve always picked the feisty ones, Bucky,” said the blonde man as he stalked toward you, “This little kisa will be fun to tame,” he pinched your winter-bitten cheek and smirked as your lip began to tremble.
The man who held you by your arm, Bucky, grumbled a response that was lost on your ears as you looked around your new surroundings. You wanted to go home. You tried to tug your arm from his grasp in vain as he began to drag you toward his lodge. You were desperate, so desperate for rescue you started to scream for help. You felt stupid as you looked at the faces of the other villagers--his villagers.
Bucky threw you onto his bed of soft furs. You scooted back, kicking your legs at him, as he made way toward you. He caught your ankles and dragged you down to him, trapping your kicking legs under his as he began to tear away the laces of your tunic. You slapped, clawed, and punched at his hands as he fought to undress you. You caught his hand and bit down on him, sinking your teeth deeper and deeper, refusing to let go of your hold on him.
He ripped his hand from your mouth and glared down at you with fire in his blue eyes. He slapped you across your cheek hard enough to hurt and shock you. You lay there, your eyes and cheek burning as you swallowed thickly. You refused to cry in front of him. You were not some little kitten.
You fought harder as your legs were spread around him, your cunt exposed to him as he snatched up your skirts. You flail wildly, then. Your hands pushing and blindly hitting. In your chaotic struggle you punched him, landing a swift blow to his nose. He eased off you for a moment as he flinched back in surprise.
You jumped off the bed and grabbed a nearby axe that rested against the wall, pointing it toward him. Bucky checked his fingers for blood, laughing as they came back clean.
“Steve was right, kisa. I’m going to have so much fun taming you,” he said with dark eyes, “No matter, I’ve always liked it rough.”
You snarled at him, gripping the axe tighter as he stood, “I will not be tamed by the likes of you.”
His eyebrow quirked and mouth opened to reply, but closed it as the door swung open. A beautiful woman with flaming hair stormed in, stopping short as she looked at you.
“Húsbóndi, what is the meaning of this?” she growled. He ignored her as he snatched the axe from your weak and inexperienced grip, tossing it aside as he grabbed you by your wrists, “Bucky.”
He dragged you back to the bed and forced you to kneel on the furs before him. He ran his fingers over your bottom lip again, forcing you to wrap them around his thumb. You bit down, then. Glaring up at him as he hissed down at you.
“How dare you embarrass me this way?”
He looked at her, then. A dangerous darkness brewing in his icy eyes, “It is you who embarrasses me, Kona. Two winters have passed and a third one comes, and you have still yet to be with a child.”
The woman’s angry scowl fell, “I have tried--I am still trying.”
He looked back down at you, forcing your chin up to look into his eyes, “Perhaps the gods never intended for you to carry my child.”
Your heart pounded in your chest as the woman--his wife sputtered. She tugged on his arms as she pleaded with him to stop, to let her try again. Bucky pushed her off him and angrily rounded on her, you gasped as he slapped her, just as he had slapped you. She fell to her knees as she held her reddening cheek, tears glossing her eyes as she trembled before him. He looked down at her with a scowl.
“You will watch, Natasha. You will watch how a real woman takes my seed, and you will watch as she takes your place,” he growled. Bucky turned back to you, “And if the gods will it, my little kisa will bless me with a son.”
He grabbed you, then. Forcing you onto your back as he straddles you, holding your wrists above your head with one hand as he undresses you with the other. Natasha, his wife, tries to stop him. Once again tugging on his arms and shoulders, pleading with her husband to let her take your place as his wife. He calls for someone, and your heart sinks as you see the blonde man enter the room.
“Steve, make sure my wife’s eyes never leave us. And if she looks away, cut an eye out,”
Both you and Natasha begin to sob at his cruel words. Steve stood by Natasha, holding her by her fiery hair to force her eyes on you and her husband. You pushed against Bucky’s chest as he rid you of your clothes, and he stopped to whisper in your ear.
“If you resist me, kisa, I will cut out more than her eyes,” he threatened, “Or perhaps I’ll cut out your sister’s eyes rather? I can’t recall if they were the same color as yours or not. Maybe I should have Steve bring them to me, so that I may remember, hm?”
You shook your head as you fought back your tears.
“Then you’ll promise to be a good little kisa for me?” he husked as he trailed his lips down your neck.
“Yes, I promise…” you whimpered.
“Good girl,”
Your fight stopped as the thought of your sister kept you still and obedient. Bucky’s lips kissed up your neck and throat until he finally found your lips. You were still, at first, never having been kissed before, but you feared he’d be unpleased with you, so you mirrored his movements the best you could. His hands held the back of your head as he deepened the kiss, trying to build a forced connection with his lips and tongue. You let him explore your mouth as you tentatively explored his.
The kiss left you breathless as he pulled away from your lips to kiss down your body. He stopped at your breasts, taking one in each hand and squeezing.
“Soon, these will be swollen with milk,” he said. You swallowed and looked at the ceiling, wishing you were home.
You gasped as you felt his tongue twist around your nipple. He looked up at you with eyes that were all lust-blown pupils. You watched as he took your breast into his mouth, suckling. His hands roamed your body as he bit and sucked on your breasts, and you couldn’t help the sigh that left you as his tongue flicked and swirled around your hardened peaks. His mouth left your chest and roughly nibbled and kissed down to your navel.
He stopped to nip along your hip bones, then. Kissing dangerously close to your most intimate part. You tensed as you felt his hands on your thighs, spreading your legs to reveal your cunt to him. Your eyes fluttered as your eyelashes wetted with unshed tears and you bit down on your lip to keep yourself quiet as you felt him lick up your sex. Your breathing changed as Bucky flattened and flexed his tongue against you.
Your hands found their way to his hair, pulling as he tongued through your folds. Your eyes drifted to the corner of the room where Steve and Natasha sat. You pushed Bucky’s head away, embarrassed and full of shame as Natasha blinked away tears, her face emotionless. Bucky took your hands from his head and held them against the furs, entwining his fingers with yours as he continued to taste you. You writhed under him as he flicked and circled your clit, fast then slow, rough then softly.
You hated to admit it to yourself, but it felt good. You moaned as you arched into his mouth, your breath and heart skipping as he tongued your entrance. Bucky locked eyes with you as he licked a long, firm stripe up from your taint to circle your clit. The feel of him sparked something deep within your belly that made you cry out in ecstasy. You shook against him uncontrollably as that spark in your belly exploded.
Bucky shed himself of his tunic and took your hand in his as he kneeled above you, resting your hand on the front of his trousers. He rubbed himself with your hand and guided you to his laces.
“Take my cock out,” he told you.
Your eyes went wide and you looked to Natasha who’s stony facade was beginning to crack. Her jaw was ticked and her eyebrows twitched with emotion. Steve yanked her hair and forced her head straight. You didn’t miss the quick glare she shot at you.
“Don’t look at her, look at me,” Bucky said, and you looked back at him.
With shaky hands you undid the laces and let his trousers fall loose on his hips. You looked up at him again, unsure of what to do next. He looked down at you expectantly, and you swallowed nervously. You reached into the front of his trousers and hesitantly took out his hard cock. He held his hand over yours, squeezing, as he made you stroke him.
You watched your hand move up and down his shaft, your core fluttering as you listened to him hiss and groan above you. He stopped, releasing your hand as he shifted down the furs and between your legs. You felt the tip of his cock prod along your entrance and you panicked. You had known his intentions, but feeling him down there, was something you couldn’t mentally prepare for. You pushed against him and he pushed against you, but he was so much stronger than you were.
Tears stung your eyes as you felt his intrusion. You were wet for him--he had made sure of that, but you weren’t ready for the unfamiliar pressure of him entering you. Bucky pushed himself deep within your cunt, forcing himself past your barrier with a hard thrust. He moaned above you as he felt your tightness clenching around him. You whimpered as he began to languidly hump into you.
“Gods, you were made to take me,” he moaned as his hips snapped forward.
The pain melted to pleasure as Bucky reached new depths of your body. He wrapped your legs around his waist and angled your hips upward. You moaned underneath him as he kneaded your clit with his thumb in perfect time with his hard thrusts. You let yourself fall limp, no longer tense and unwelcoming. With every thrust he gave, you welcomed yourself to him, your cunt clenching around him as if to keep him buried within you.
“Open your eyes!” your eyes snapped open as the loud voice boomed above the noise of your and Bucky’s coupling. Bucky began to thrust harder and faster into you, setting a pace that had you yelping in pain and pleasure. In the corner of the room, Natasha, with closed eyes, fought against Steve as he yanked her by her fiery hair. The sounds of skin against skin, of your sloshing wet cunt around Bucky’s cock as he fucked you hard, would never have been loud enough to drown out the sounds of Natasha’s pained scream. Your face paled and your stomach hurled as you watched Steve pull a dagger from its sheath.
You fought against him, then. Scratching and slapping at him as her screams rang in your ears. You cried as you saw the blood flood from her empty socket. Bucky took hold of you by your neck and forced you to look at him.
“That will be your sister if you continue to deny me, kisa,” he warned, his strong, hard thrusts accentuating his every word. You sobbed and forced your body to go limp around him once more.
Bucky pulled back and thrust into you even harder this time, making you scream. His eyes met yours as he rutted into you like a wild animal. He bared his teeth as he fucked into you faster and faster, his grunts and moans growing louder with each thrust of his cock. You whined and moaned as you rocked against the furs as Bucky pounded into your cunt. And you felt that familiar build from within, that beginning spark that threatened to ignite a firestorm of exploding pleasure.
In a blur of color you were flipped as Bucky held you atop his lap, positioning you above him. He entered you again from below in one strong, hard, fluid thrust. Your breasts bounced with every thrust as you jounced on his cock. The new angle had you moaning and mewling as he rhythmically fucked you. You rode him as if he were a wild stallion, and you didn’t want to stop--you were close, too close to care.
Bucky’s pants soon turned to low moans as you bounced on him, meeting his thrusts with your own. His fingers dug into the soft skin of your hips as you forced yourself down onto him harder and faster.
“That’s it, kisa, ride your jarl,” he groaned through gritted teeth, “I’m going to fill you with my seed. I’m going to fuck an heir into you, and I’ll keep fucking you even then. You’ll never be without my seed in your tight cunt.”
Your body convulsed as you came, moaning lustily as you did. Underneath you, Bucky’s thrusts stuttered as he came with a howl. He kept his hips thrusting lazily as you both calmed from your erupting pleasure. Bucky flipped you again, caging you under his strong body. He pulled his cock from your pussy and pushed his leaking seed back inside of you with his fingers.
He fucked you three more times that night, each time coming deep inside of you with a lusted howl.
Four weeks have passed since your first night with Bucky. Lying with him had become easier, you quickly learned how to please him and he you. In those short days since then, you had wed him and you were now recognized by his village as his kona. Natasha was no longer his wife as he reduced her to nothing but a servant to be passed around his men. You were still getting used to it all, the fancy silks and furs, the gold, and the silver jewelry.
But it was more than a poor farm girl could ask for, you had no right to complain about the life forced upon you--at least that’s what you told yourself every night as Bucky fucked you against the furs.
“Frue (Y/N)?” a soft voice called.
You came out of your head and looked to the woman, Yrsa, your servant, “I’m sorry?”
The water of your bath was scalding hot with cranberry oils, as you liked it. Yrsa washed your hair with the sweet scented oil.
“I asked if you’d like your supper to be brought to you,”
You frowned at the thought of food, “No, thank you. I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite tonight.”
“The jarl will not be pleased, my Frue. A full moon has since passed since your last supper,”
“I nor my husband can force my appetite,” you sighed as she brushed through your tangled hair.
Bucky came into the room, then, bringing the winter cold in with him. The white fur of his cloak thick around his neck. You stood, the water dripping from your body as Yrsa dried you. Bucky eyed your naked body hungrily as he disrobed. You locked eyes with your husband as you stepped from the bath and into a thin cotton tunic.
“No,” Bucky spoke, “I want you undressed.”
You let the fabric fall to your ankles, the glow of the firelight bathing you in fiery gold. Yrsa moved your hair back as she rubbed oils down your arms. Bucky licked his lips as he eyed your breasts. Yrsa brushed the soft swell of your stomach as she oiled you and said,
“Frue, you are with child,”
Bucky stood over you, his eyes blackened and intense, fierce pride and lust. You touched the swell of your belly and your heart dropped. His hand rested atop of yours as he looked upon your swollen breasts and the growing curve of your belly. You felt the hardness of his manhood pressing against your thigh.
“The gods have blessed us,” he said against your hair, “Leave us.”
Yrsa bowed her head and ducked out of the room. You knew what your husband wanted as you unlaced him. He bent you over the bed and you balled the furs in your fists as he thrust himself inside of you.
“Let us pray you birth me a son, kisa,” he husked. You moaned as he fucked into you with wild lust-driven desire. Bucky gripped you by your hips as his hips quickened, his cock pounding into you harder and harder in the moment of his erupting pleasure. His seed filled you and trickled down the soft insides of your tender thighs. Bucky kissed along your shoulders as he rubbed your stomach almost lovingly.
Your eyes glossed with tears as you thought back to your family. You had always thought your sister would’ve been the first to have a child, yet here you were… Carrying the White Wolf’s heir.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*тαgℓιѕт*:・゚✧*:・゚✧: @hoosier-daddi, @kuranes-12, @syrenavenger, @thehuntresswolf, @kriegersimp, @haleyheart0197
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stuckysdumbbitch · 2 months ago
His Bunny
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“When you get caught in the trap of a hunter, he decides you are going to be the perfect little bunny for him.”
main masterlist
Pairings: Dark!Hunter!Bucky x Bunny hybrid!reader
warnings: 18+ content, noncon!, breeding kink, lactation kink and more (specified on each fic)
A series of fanfics, drabbles and ficlets.
caught in his trap
run as fast as you can
his little bunnies
keeping you safe
betrayed me
no sorrow
head cannon 1
head cannon 2
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harryspet · 5 months ago
cement walls | bucky barnes
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[Warnings] dark!bucky barnes x reader, non/dubcon sex, fingering, kidnapping, forced pregnancy, confined spaces, Stockholm syndrome(?), post-blip bucky, bucky needs some therapy, forced gender roles
[A/N] uhm so this is what i’ve been working on and like usual i have no idea where i wanna take it :):) i haven’t posted in a long while so i figured i would put this out there for some feedback! this is pretty much inspired by Room if you’ve seen that movie. [gif credit to]
In which the outside world is too dangerous for you and Bucky is the only one who can protect you. 
taglist: @cherienymphe @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes  @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan​ @doozywoozy​
main masterlist
word count: 3.3k
Within the cement walls that surrounded your home, you imagined that you had your own little planet. You spent hours of your days thinking about what surrounded you, if there were floating rings like Saturn had, the constellations you could make out only if you could only see the entire sky, and how the sun would really feel on your bare skin. You were beginning to forget what that felt like and you sat below the skylight trying to reach into your mind and remember.
Maybe you should be grateful that there was even a skylight at all and that there was enough room for a small kitchen and bathroom. You imagined that's what he thought. You could move around freely with no chains so you should be grateful. Almost three-hundred square feet of your new planet that you should be glad to have. Except you didn’t even own the ground you stood on, this planet wasn’t really yours, you were just an astronaut trapped in space. 
That morning, you scrubbed the floors, not only because the military man preferred organization but also because the small space got dirty quickly. After taking your vitamins, extra Vitamin D of course, and munching on a stale granola bar, you got to work. You made the twin bed up, making sure the sheets were tucked in tightly before organizing the small amount of clothes in the wardrobe. 
When you heard the beeping of the keypad outside the door, you stood up, shutting the wardrobe. You weren’t expecting him, not having gotten to the kitchen yet, but alas your moon man appeared. You couldn’t help it, you always looked past him to see what you could have of the outside world. You saw nothing, his figure was only surrounded in darkness as he shut it quickly, and it beeped as the metal door locked again. 
It was like he liked the idea of you not knowing where you were. He’d brought you into this room unconscious so you had no idea whether you were still in Louisiana or not. For all you knew, you could be floating in space and it wouldn’t matter. 
The tall man’s hair was cut short, like he’d just gotten a haircut, and you hated that the room was already beginning to smell like his cologne. He held a brown bag of what you assumed were groceries, “You haven’t been here in more than two weeks. I’ve been cleaning my clothes in the sink. I started rationing food t-thinking you weren’t going to come back.”
He set the bag down on the small kitchen table and you watched his eyes roam over the dirty dishes, “I wouldn’t leave you here, doll face,” Bucky assured you, “C’mere.” He waved you over and you stepped forward cautiously. 
“W-Where did you go?”
He reached up to hold your face, the leather brushing against your cheeks as he looked you over. You wore a green smock dress with a cardigan tightly over you, the box having been cold the past few days, “I had business. Far away business.”
“You’ve never been gone this long.”
“Did you miss me that much?” You wanted to roll your eyes. If Bucky didn’t come back, you’d die in probably the worst way possible and no one would know what happened to you, “I brought you back plenty of groceries, I even got you some oreos and that fancy bread you like.”
“Bucky …. I-I was so so scared. You don’t understand-” He leaned down to kiss you and when your lips didn’t move against his, he grabbed you roughly by your hair. You held in your yelp as you forced your lips to move against his. He held your hips, deepening the kiss and when he pulled away, his hands were still in your hair. 
“I’m here now, “ He looked at you sharply, tugging your hair a bit, “But it seems you can’t keep the kitchen clean, no matter how much time I give you.”
“I’m sorry,” You apologized, the words slipping out before you could even register them. 
He gestured his head over to the sink, “Get to it. And the groceries as well.” 
You moved past him, turning on the warm water before grabbing a sponge. You felt his eyes on your back as you began to clean all the pots and pans you’d been using. You heard the rattling of his belt, his jeans being pulled down, the sound of his boots being stacked to the side, and the grunt he let out when he tossed his jacket over the kitchen chair. 
When you placed everything in the drying rack, you moved onto the bag of groceries. He had gotten the bread you liked so you had something to look forward to that week, “I had to see that lady again.”
“You mean your therapist?”
“It’s court mandated bullshit,” You looked over and he was examining your desk and bookshelf. All the books you had were given to you by him and all the decorations were paper origami that you’d gotten good at making. 
“What did you guys talk about?” You asked hesitantly, putting things away in the cabinet. 
“She thinks I need more friends, more social interactions I suppose but that’s what she says every week,” You heard your bed creak as he sat down, “Hey, make me a cup of coffee, doll.”
“Oh,” It was clear that whatever that therapist was doing, wasn’t work, the biggest piece of evidence being the girl he was holding captive right now. You moved over to the coffee pot, pouring what was left into his favorite mug, “Do you … ever talk about me?”
You could feel his body stiffen even from across the room. 
“Why would I?” When you turned around, his eyebrows were furrowed, his hands on his knees. 
You crossed the small room with the cup in hand, “Well, you interact with me. I’m like your friend, right?” You handed him the drink, standing back as you watched him take a sip, hoping he’d be satisfied with it. 
“You know why I can’t tell her about you, Y/N.”
You shook your head, “Yeah, I was just thinking … “ You sat down a few feet away from him, “Does anyone else know about me?”
“You’re curious today.”
“It’s not like I have much entertainment in here,” You said a little more snarky than you intended. You felt his mechanical arm push into the mattress beside you as he turned his head, “Sorry … when do you think I’ll get to leave the room? Not outside, just out of the room. Maybe to where you sleep at night.”
“If you’re going to be like this today-”
“Forget I said anything,” You smiled weakly, “Please.”
Bucky set down his cup on the small nightstand before he urged you closer. You scooted closer and he gently pushed your head down until it was resting in his lap. You felt his cold hand through your sweater and the other through your hair, “I know what it’s like … feeling trapped,” You pulled your feet onto the bed and he continued to stroke your hair and you welcomed the comforting touch. 
“Then why …”
He shushed you, “Mind over matter, Y/N. It’s all about training your mind to adjust. You’re safer here, you’re taken care of here, and your mind is still trying to convince you that you don’t belong here.”
“I wouldn’t try to escape if I could just stay with you…”
He shushed you again, “I spent decades frozen and then, after that, I was trapped in my own mind. Now everyone’s trying to convince me that I have this new chance to survive in the world. They genuinely think of this new century as being so amazing, so much technology, and opportunities but it’s a lie, Y/N. This world is nothing but danger and death. You’re much better without it.”
You felt a tear roll down your cheeks. You felt like the chains around you were only getting heavier. He was so delusional that you thought it would be easier to start believing him, “Please don’t leave for that long again.”
Bucky sighed, “I’ll stay here for the night. How does that sound?”
You hiccuped, “T-Thank you.”
Later that night, you were lying beside bucky in the small bed. He was fast asleep but you were wide awake, looking up at the skylight. The full moon was lighting up the room. Carefully, you tossed your feet over the bed, doing your best not to disturb the soldier. You got onto the floor, crawling towards the carpet in the middle of the room. Oftentimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d lay down and stare up at the moon. 
You stayed like that for lord knows how long, drifting into a place where all your thoughts were silent. 
“What are you doing?” You sat up quickly, your heart racing as his gruff voice snapped you from your trance. 
He was shirtless, standing above you, and rubbing his tired eyes. You simply pointed up, “The moon.”
“Get back in bed,” He commanded groggily. 
You scooted over slightly, “I can’t sleep ... just come look with me. It’s beautiful.”
“You act like you’ve never seen the fucking moon before, Y/N,” His frustration caught you off guard as he reached down to grab you by your arm. You didn’t mean to but, on instinct, you flinched away. That only led him to grabbing your harder, and you stumbled as he pulled you up, “Get in the bed. You scare me to death when I wake up and can’t feel you.”
“If you care so much then why do you leave me in here for weeks on end.”
His eyes flickered with hurt for a moment, “I won’t … ever again. You need far too much discipline for me to let you be on your own for so long.” You rolled your eyes as you turned away, walking towards the bed. 
He grabbed you roughly by your waist, pushing you onto the bed. He pushed you further into the mattress, his hand on the back on your neck, and you were reminded just how cruel he could be. There was a point months ago when you stopped fighting it, knowing in the end he would overpower you, but sometimes your spark appeared. 
He lifted your nightgown easily, knowing he wouldn’t find any underwear to tear off, and his hand cupped between your legs. As you struggled beneath him, he felt you, rubbing and running his fingers over your lips, “Me being deep inside you seems to correct your mood. Is that what you need from me, doll face?”
Your spark appeared and went quickly, knowing he could feel your wetness, giving him the permission to sink two of fingers inside you. He moved slow, his knees pressed deep into the bed, as he watched your lips part with a gasp. 
“That’s it …”
This was his favorite, knowing he could get you off with just his fingers, his fingers curling against your most sensitive areas. He fastened his pace, pushing in and out of you as you lay there bent over. Knowing you were nearing an orgasm you were sure not to run away from, he moved his vibranium arm from your neck and underneath you where he stimulated your sensitive bud. 
“That’s my girl,” He coaxed you as he sent you into a shaking fit, “You finish so well on my fingers, so beautifully.” You came hard, Bucky enjoying the vulnerable view of your face. As he let you go, you pushed down your gown and laid down on your side. The bed dipped as he took a seat, rubbing your thighs as the post-orgasm regret filled you. 
“You ever think you have some control over me, I want you to remember this.”
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8 months later … 
You flipped through the channels six channels that the old television would provide. The soldier thought buying you one would decrease your book intake which he was struggling to keep up with as you read several per week. He wasn’t a fan of technology but the two of you had a long argument about it and he eventually caved. 
You weren’t sure if he knew but the TV picked up a local news channel and you got a glimpse into what the world had been like over the past year. Every now and then, there’d be a mention of Sam Wilson and you figured that’s who he was disappearing with when he was gone for weeks at a time. 
As you neared closer and closer to your due date, he’d grown nicer than usual, though the way he’d gotten you pregnant wasn’t pleasant at all. “You complain so much about being lonely.” He had said when you’d missed your period, “This is what you wanted, right?” 
You weren’t sure if you were just nauseous from the pregnancy or if the idea of raising a baby in that room was making you sick to your stomach. Sometimes you caught yourself being selfish, thinking about having someone to take care of and take up your time. Having someone who could love you properly, in a way that Bucky didn’t quite understand. 
“How’s my girl? And how’s my mini me?” Bucky was an abnormally good move when he came down to visit you that night. He was carrying magazines in his hand and you crossed the room, curious to see the details, “I thought you might want to look at nursery stuff.”
“There’s gonna be a nursery,” Your lips pulled into a smile, “Where?”
“Here,” He gestured around and your smile fell, “You can’t be too far from the little tike. I was thinking we could put the crib where your desk is.”
You took the magazines from him, resting them on your protruding stomach, “Oh …” You tried not to sound sad, “You don’t think that maybe the space is too small? I mean, a mom and baby and sometimes you, that’s a lot of people for one room. And when they get older ….” You imagined having a happy little baby but you tried not to think about your child growing up in a box. 
“When he gets older, we’ll think about it then,” He stated, already gendering the baby without any actual knowledge. He refused to let you see a doctor, only brought you prenatal vitamins, expecting that you’d have a smooth delivery right here in the room, “For now, it’s plenty of room.”
You nodded, “When he gets older, will you take him outside the room? Kids need space to play and get fresh air.”
“I’ll think about it, Y/N,” Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line. 
You didn’t want to push the issue further, not wanting to spoil his mood, “I think a light green will be a good, neutral color for everything. Maybe we can decorate his side of the room.”
He smiled, “Whatever you’d like, doll face.”
You crossed the room, setting the magazines down on your desk, and a scary idea crossed your mind. A scary idea and chance you might just have to take if it meant you could get help. You were getting nowhere screaming at the top of your lungs, hoping for someone to hear you, and asking Bucky over and over again just to let you have fresh air. He was suffocatingly protective and that didn’t seem like it was gonna change. You couldn’t let him do that to your child. 
You made dinner and he slept over that night, his vibranium hand holding your waist the entire night. 
You planned to catch him off guard the next morning, figuring you’d have the best chance of causing a panic while he was still tired. You got up, whispering that you had to use the restroom, and you slipped inside the room. You read somewhere that only a fourth cup of water comes out when your water breaks, so you fill a cup before drenching your underwear, legs and the bathroom floor. 
“Bucky!” You shouted, making sure you looked scared in the mirror, “Bucky!”
The door almost flew off its hinges as the soldier went into full alert. His eyes were wide, examining you, “What-What happened?”
“I-I think my water broke,” A tear slipped down your cheek. 
“It’s too early,” He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, “A-Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. All the books say it's a gushing feeling and that was definitely gushing.”
“Maybe we should wait … we can wait and see if contractions start-”
You shook your head furiously, cautiously stepping forward, “We have to see a Doctor. W-We have to … contractions are supposed to start before my water breaks a-and I’m only 29 weeks. I can’t have the baby naturally.”
“We have to! Please, Bucky, a-all I care about is the baby. Please, I don’t want to lose them. Please don’t make me-”
“Okay, okay,” He nodded, grabbing your face as he wiped your tears, “Uhm …. let's get dressed. There’s a thirty minute drive to the hospital,” You nodded and his eyes narrowed at you, “This is for the baby, remember that. You pull anything and-”
“I know,” You placed your hand over your stomach, pulling away from his grasp. 
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Your body was heavy when he led you out of that room. You felt your reality shifting as you entered the world again. What surprised you most was how normal the rest of the home was, not particularly homey, but it was nice and spacious. There was even a full front yard and, sadly, you imagined the happy family that could have lived here. You half-expected him to have a wife and kids that he was hiding you from. 
Now, sitting in the hospital bed, you watched him paced around, not paying attention to what the Doctor was saying. 
“So she’s not in labor? She felt her water breaking.”
“No, Sir. Based on the ultrasound, the amniotic fluid levels are normal. I’m not sure what happened, could be a multitude of things, but it was most likely a false alarm. But don’t worry, it happens all the time. And your baby looks very healthy.”
You opened your mouth to say something but Bucky’s eyes narrowed at you, a warning. 
“Okay, thank you, Doc.”
“Do you two have a primary obstetrician? One isn’t listed-”
“Are we free to leave?”
The Doctor took another look at you, as if he was trying to understand our relationship, but if he noticed anything, he didn’t say it, “Yes, you’re free to go. I would just make sure to keep a sharp eye out and give your obstetrician a call if you have a question-”
“Of course, thanks, Doc,” Bucky nodded as he forced a smile. With his dark jacket and black gloves, it was hard for him not to look intimidating. 
The Doctor looked down at you with a warm smile, “Let me know if you need anything, ma’am.”
Say something. 
Say something. 
If you were going to say something, this would be the time. Why did Bucky have such a hold on you even outside of the room?
As soon as the Doctor left the room, Bucky turned away, frustratedly packing up your bag, “Get up, get dressed, let’s go.”
“Bucky, I really did think-”
“If you don’t want someone in this hospital to get hurt, I’d get dressed and keep your mouth shut.”
You moved your legs to the side, real tears beginning to fall down your face, as you struggled to get your dress on. Bucky noticed your sniffling from the corner of his eye. He moved towards you, kneeling down beside the bed, “Hey, I’m sorry …. I’m just stressed out. I don’t like you being here ... but everything is going to be okay. Our baby is perfectly healthy and we’ll be home soon. There will be no more interruptions after this.”
You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod in agreement knowing that your own opinion didn’t matter. Bucky was god, enforcing his will on you, and claiming he knew best. You felt so small in comparison to him but there had to be something left within you that could keep fighting, that could keep you from going willingly back into that room-
You perked up, “Yes?”
“C’mon doll face, let’s go home.”
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hope you enjoyed! not sure where i want to take this so feedback will be much appreciated!
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bvccy · 5 months ago
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PAIRING: Soft!Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader (no Y/N)
SYNOPSIS: Bucky and a girl he never met before have to go undercover as married on a mission to Europe. He feels alienated in the modern world, while she goes through life alone and abandoned. Maybe they can find a new home in each other, but she’s not easily convinced.
Soft!Bucky turning to Grey and then Dark as the story progresses from pining, jealousy, unrequited love, to forced (real) marriage and noncon. The slowest of slow burn, but will have a happy ending!
Will contain: angst, fluff, smut, hurt/comfort, masturbation, brat wife taming, sweet dirty talk, frottage, bondage, cockwarming, and breeding kink. One instance of violence, but not toward our main characters.
LEGEND: Angst ◈ / Smut ◎ / Noncon ◩ / Violence ▲
THEMES: Hope, Forgiveness
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The dawn’s recurrent light ◈ ◎
Clouds environ now
Do not forget
To mend their own ways ◈
Calling to us, from the deep
Fiercer than the pain that folds you
I have loved thee, love, before ◈
Shadows make it swell ◈ ◎
Long, long years of dark despair ◈
Her thorns were my only delight ◈ ◎
Whilst thou dost sleep ◈
This wild lust of having ◈
Immutable and cold ◈ ▲
All alone, my glory
One repelled, one fond ◈
Sweet enemy ◎ ◩
My dreams under your feet ◎ ◩
Excuse from pain ◈ ◎ ◩
In the reflected sky ◈ ◎
On which my ruins rest ◈ ◎
So sweet as melancholy ◈ ◎
Behold my soul’s true face ◈
A different depth of ecstasy ◎
1K notes · View notes
Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; breeding; kidnap; isolation; manipulation; abuse; these men are no good, cutting/blood, mentions of birth control, inappropriate touching, humiliation (general not sexual... yet?)
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. It features Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes, as well as OC side characters and a reader. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Synopsis: you meet three cute guys while camping but your trip is delayed when it takes an unexpected turn.
For @boxofbonesfic hot girl summer challenge with the prompts: Girl’s Trip + Breeding kink
Note: Okay, now we’re getting into the thick of things with this series and yet, we aren’t hehe.
Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
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You were taken to the second floor. Every window on your way was covered and when you tried to get closer, Sam stopped you. He ushered you to a door with a lock embedded under the handle. There was a sensor there and Sam pressed his thumb to it and gears whirred in response.
He turned the handle and pushed it open. He nudged you inside and blocked the door behind you. The room was bigger than your own in your apartment. There was a bed bookended by two nightstands, a lamp on each, a dresser along one wall, a bookshelf against another, and another narrower door to the right.
The bed was made up in lilac sheets and a patterned duvet, the metal headboard twisted into curleques. There was a television mounted opposite the bed and desk in another corner. The bookshelf was completely empty. In the corner opposite the desk, there was a treadmill.
“Bathroom,” Sam pointed to the door, “that’ll be all you need for tonight. You get some sleep and we’ll move to the next step tomorrow.”
“Next step?” you turned and covered yourself, still embarrassed of your nudity.
“It’s late, you’ve been sleeping in a box for almost two weeks,” he sighed, “don’t bite the hand that feeds.”
“Thanks to who, exactly?” you challenged.
“It’s not too late to take you back,” he warned, “you earn each step. You got out of the box, you gotta work to stay in here. You can earn all of this.”
“I don’t understand,” you said.
“Don’t try to, not right now,” he backed out of the door, “get some rest.”
He closed it before you could respond and you cringed. Even if you weren’t locked in a box, the room was just as much a cell. The windows were sealed with metal sheets bolted to the frame. 
You went to the dresser, no clothes inside. Then the desk, nothing but an empty drawer. You tried to turn on the TV but there was no button on it.
You shook your head and went to the bed. You shut off the lamp and slid under the blankets. It was nice to be covered, to be on anything but the hard bottom of a trunk.
You were awoken by a blaring alarm. You sat up and searched for the source and only found a speaker next to the door. You covered your ears and the siren stopped. Your head rang with the echo of it and you sidled to the edge of the bed and clung to the sheet.
“Get up, stand facing the wall,” Sam’s voice rose from the speaker. You shook your head and looked around, “I said stand up and go against the wall.”
You curled your lip and didn’t move. The siren began again and you clamped your hands over your ears again. You whined, “enough, enough,” you let go of the blanket and stood. You went to the wall on the other side of the night table and faced it. The shrill ringing stopped.
“Hands on the wall above your head,” he demanded.
You sighed and did as he said. You dropped your chin and your eyes glossed with tears. It was utterly humiliating.
“Don’t move,” he said.
You stayed as you were as the door opened behind you. You glanced over your shoulder and watched Steve carry in a tray.
“Face to the wall,” Sam ordered, “now.”
You turned your head back and closed your eyes. You choked down your shame and pressed your forehead to the wall. You listened to Steve set down the tray and your skin burned as your ass was bared to him. He retreated and the door closed, the lock loudly sliding back into place.
“Eat,” Sam said, “read the rules. You have twenty minutes to finish. When you’re done, back to the wall.”
You spun and crossed your arm, “why? Why are you doing this?”
“No questions. Fifteen minutes.”
You rolled your eyes and dragged your feet to the desk. You sat and picked up the spoon. The bowl was filled with plain yogurt topped with fresh berries and granola. It was much better than the fare you got between your hours in the box.
You took a mouthful and let the spoon rest against the rim of the bowl. You took the blush coloured paper folded beside it and opened it. Your skin crawled as you read;
‘A good wife must:
Wake up at 7am; 8am on weekends.
Eat meals as given; food will be removed after maximum twenty minutes.
Take your vitamins
Exercise one hour a day (1000 calories)
Attend to herself:
shower daily;
shave minimum three times a week; 
pluck and groom every other day; 
moisturize, apply make-up, deodorant, perfume, etc.
Dress in clothes given and nothing else.
Spend her leisure time as allotted based on behaviour.
Complete her chores in a timely and thorough manner.
Obey orders without question.
Take her punishment as necessary.
The rule of thumb is what is given can be taken away.’
You dropped the paper and hesitated to take the spoon. Your appetite shriveled in your stomach. You stared at the wall in disbelief. This couldn’t be real.
“Take your vitamins,” Sam said, “to the left.”
You looked at the small paper cup of multi-coloured tablets. You gulped and shook your head.
“Take them or I can have Bucky come in and help you with those rules,” Sam sneered, “I know you’re a smart girl but this isn’t a game. If you don’t care about you, I know you care about Laila and Jasmine.”
“Why?” you breathed.
“They’re being good, why can’t you?” Sam said sharply, “they don’t deserve to be mistreated because you can’t do what you’re told.”
You exhaled in defeat and picked up the vitamins and the glass of orange juice. You gulped them down with the pulpy drink and flicked the cup away. You ate without tasting as your resignation and denial battled. 
You didn’t want to give in, didn’t want to go along with this twisted fucking prison, but you didn’t have a choice. You saw what they would do to your friends.
You finished and pushed the bowl away. You went to the wall and stood facing it.
“Get it over with then,” you snarled.
There was no response. The door opened, you listened to the clink of the bowl, and the departure of your captor. The lock clicked and you dropped your arms.
“Turn around, get dressed, it’s exercise time,” Sam almost sang as he taunted you.
You huffed and went to the chair where the shorts and sports bra were left beneath a pair of bright sneakers.
“I didn’t hear you, honey,” Sam chirped.
“Yes, sir,” you gritted out as you dressed.
You sat to pull on the anklet socks and tie the sneakers. You looked around and reluctantly approached the treadmill. You climbed up and stared at the buttons.
“You can start on medium speed,” Sam intoned, “timer starts on your first step, honey.”
You scowled and turned up the speed and hit start. You began, your legs quickly burning as your time in the chest and lack of stretching set in. You gripped the bars and leaned heavily on them as you panted.
“That’s ten minutes passed,” Sam said, “keep it up, honey.”
You lowered your face and bared your teeth. You didn’t know where the cameras were but you didn’t want him to see your misery. This was more humiliating than anything else so far.
Your second day was just as jarring. The alarm wailed and you rolled out of bed and nearly stumbled to your knees. Sam ordered you against the wall and you ambled over, barely able to stand on your stiff legs. You listened as your meal was delivered and the door shut.
You sat at the desk and stared at the yogurt and blackberries.
“When can I see my friends?” you asked.
“Take your vitamins, honey,” Sam said.
“When?” you insisted.
He was silent. You sniffed and took the paper cup and tossed back the vitamins. You lowered the cup and crushed it with your fingers.
“You can earn that privilege,” he said, “just like everything else. Right now, you’re a far way from that.”
“You’re sick,” your voice was brittle, “how do I know they’re even alive?”
“Because if you’re alive, you’re useful,” he said, “finish your breakfast, honey.”
“Stop calling me that,” you hissed.
He chuckled and the speaker went silent as he disconnected without response. You leaned on your elbow and shoveled down the sour yogurt. The thought of being trapped here forever was a stark realisation. It made you want to vomit. It terrified you to the bone because you knew it was absolutely likely and entirely impossible to leave.
On the third day, you went through the list in a daze. You hardly heard Sam’s words as he spoke to you through the speaker. That night, a book was left on the desk. It was one of the ones you packed in your duffel. You couldn’t read it for the tears in your eyes and instead buried your head under the pillows.
The fourth day was painfully long. Seconds stretched to minutes and minutes to hours. You slept out of sheer exhaustion but it was hardly peaceful as the nightmares of your existences bled into your dreams.
On the fifth day, you stood against the wall and waited. You sat to eat your breakfast and take your vitamins. You finished without coaxing and returned to your vigil facing away from the door. When the door opened, you were stunned as you were pulled away from the wall.
You struggled against the thick metal arm and were spun away from Bucky. He flung you against the bed and followed quickly. You yelped as he grabbed the back of your neck and shoved you onto the mattress. He wrenched you onto your back and pinned your chest with his knee as his other came down beside you.
You flailed out at him and gasped as he leaned his weight onto you.
“What’s going on?” you choked out, “stop! Stop!”
“Shhh, honey,” Sam’s voice rose from the speaker as you watched Bucky’s sadistic snarl, “it has to be done. Let’s make it quick. We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Wha-- Please…” the air was completely forced from your lungs as Bucky grabbed your arm and held against the bed.
He felt around with his thumb and grazed the implant under your skin. He reached back and unsnapped the slim sheath on his belt. He pulled out his knife and you kicked desperately.
“Stop, stop, stop,” you whined as he pointed the tip along the inside of your arm.
“You don’t want him to cut anything important, do you?” Sam asked, “so keep still, honey.”
“Your friends were on the pill,” Sam said, “that’s easy enough but we looked at your records. This won’t do.”
You cried out as Bucky pierced your skin and made a slit. He pinched the incision as he slid the point under your flesh and searched out the tiny implant. You screamed through your teeth as hot blood dripped down your arm. 
Bucky suddenly pushed himself off of you and you covered the cut. You sat up, dressed only in the nightshirt given to you the night before, and whimpered.
“You’re fucking crazy,” you snarled, “you fucking psycho!”
Bucky turned on you and grabbed you by the neck. He lifted you to your feet and forced you against the wall, slamming your head into it. He brought his knife up under your chin as you grasped at his metal wrist. His blue eyes pierced you and sent a shiver down your spine.
“You wanna see crazy?” he barked.
“Bucky,” Sam chided, “let her go.”
You stared at him fearfully and saw his thoughts in his deep blue irises. He gave a small nod and released you. He sheathed his knife and turned away from you. He stalked to the door and it slammed in his stead.
“I knew I should’ve sent Steve,” Sam said, “get yourself cleaned up, honey, I don’t want blood all over.”
You bit down on a retort as your flesh thrummed from the slice. You stemmed the blood with your palm as you held your arm up and went into the bathroom. There was no doubt left. Their intention was crystal clear.
After a week, you were taken out of the room. Steve handed you an apron, the windows still covered, and showed you a list on the fridge. Each task was colour coded across the days of the week. He pointed at the purple font.
“Anything in purple is yours. It’s your turn to cook dinner tonight,” he explained, “lasagna.” He nudged you along the counter and tapped the top of a recipe book, “page twenty-two.”
You looked at him and then around the room. The curtains were nailed at the corners to keep all glimpse of what was beyond out. You flipped the pages until you reached twenty-two and went down the list of ingredients. 
You’re overly aware of your body as you feel his gaze on you. Your dress is short and you were given no panties. If it wasn’t for the apron, the skirt would no doubt be flouncing dangerously with each step.
“Everything's in the fridge and cupboard,” he said, “veggies already cut.”
You nodded and went to the fridge and searched out each piece of the recipe. They weren’t stupid enough to let you have a knife. You set out your workspace and lost yourself in the instructions. You softened the noodles and mixed up the sauce and spices. You paused as you realised you actually forgot, just for moment, where you were; a terrifying lapse.
You lined the pan, scooped in the sauce and veggies, and added the cheese layer by layer. Steve remained, pacing, watching, guarding. You put the pan in the oven and washed your hands before you began to tidy up. You wiped the counter and glanced over at the timer.
“Keep this up and you might get another book,” he remarked as he neared the end of the counter, “maybe some TV time.”
“What about my friends? If I’m good, can I see them?” you asked.
“No, not yet,” he said grimly, “but if you keep at it, maybe.”
“Maybe,” you frowned.
He gave a thin smile and came around the granite. He neared and stopped in front of you. You winced as he rubbed your shoulder and tickled his fingertips along your neck. You shivered and he dragged his thumb across your lower lip.
“You’re prettier when you smile,” he said softly. His eyes fell and his hand did too as he played with the frilly strap of the apron, “looks good on you…”
You gulped and averted your eyes. You pursed your lips and took a step back. He followed and turned you against the warm stove. You stared up at him as he blocked you in with his arms and leaned in.
“Your friends are lots of fun but… I like new toys,” he smirked and peeked over your shoulder, “we got time for some fun.”
You winced as his hands descended further and slipped beneath the apron. He pushed two fingers against your vee as you squeezed your legs shut. You bit down, trying not to let him see how terrified you are.
“Steve,” Sam’s voice cut through the air.
Steve poked his tongue against the inside of his lip and raised his hands defensively. He stepped back and snickered as he faced Sam. You watched him in disgust as he rolled his eyes.
“Just wasting time,” Steve said.
“Sure,” Sam squared his shoulders, “you’re not seeing Laila tonight.”
“Hey,” Steve approached him, “you’re not in charge.”
“We have to follow the system,” Sam snipped, “you’re gonna fuck it up.”
“We’re working together, I’m not working for you,” Steve jabbed Sam’s chest, “I’m seeing Laila since you won’t let me try some of her.”
“Go then,” Sam snarled, “now.”
Your eyes wetted as you watched Steve go. He sent you a subtle glance as he did and his lips slanted. You gulped as you looked back at Sam. You wanted to stop him. You wanted to save Laila but that wouldn’t help either of you. You pushed yourself away from the hot stove and turned to watch the numbers count down.
“Smells good,” Sam said as he leaned on the counter.
“Mmm,” you hummed, “I just followed the recipe.”
“Sorry about that, he’s… intense,” he continued.
“Are you really apologizing to me?” you scoffed, “please, ‘sorry’? Doesn’t change that you’re keeping us here to act out whatever twisted 1950s fantasy this is.”
“Yeah, your right,” he exhaled, “so really, I’m not sorry but I’m trying to show you that I can make this easier for you. You just gotta give a little.”
You were quiet as you thought and watched the blue digits tick tick tick. “I made dinner,” you said dryly, “that’s a little.”
He chuckled and tapped his fingers on the granite, “come on, let’s go back to your room. I think I can figure out how to take it out.”
You looked at him in disgust and shrugged, “fine.”
“He’s right,” Sam said as he led you from the kitchen, his hand firmly on your arm, “you have a nice smile, you should show it more.”
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piecesofem · a month ago
Unsettling Relaxation
summary: you’re on vacation with mafia bucky when someone disturbs the peace
a/n: this is based off of a mmm submission I got today! I’ll be going more into the idea next monday when we do mmm again, but for the anon who sent it in, this is for you <3 love mafia bucky and love scary mafia business teeehee. this is also my first bucky fic, so your thoughts/feedback/comments are welcomed <3
pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader 
warnings: violence, dark themes such as: murder, violence, blood, gore, mafia business, etc. please don’t indulge if you’re sensitive to violent content
word count: 2.9k 
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Giddy with anticipation of the various activities you and Bucky might find yourselves doing during your luxurious vacation, you practically bounce with glee as you cling to his side during check in. Taking in the strong marble pillars bordering the inside of the crimson carpeted lobby, you ogle at the over the top decor surrounding you. Though you didn’t get too far away from Bucky’s work often, he sure knew how to plan a plentiful vacation when the time came. 
After thanking the concierge and tipping the bellboy handsomely for taking such care of your bags on their short journey up the elevator, you feel your eyes widen as Bucky chivalrously opens the door to the room for you to explore the gaudy suite he’d rented. Shrieking in utter delight at the opulent scene unfolding in front of you. A humongous lavish bed sits in all it’s glory in the side of the bedroom covered in delicately gold-trimmed crimson rose petals. Too absorbed in the glory of the affluent suite encompassing you, you fail to hear it as Bucky situates your bags on the couch before snaking his arms around your waist. 
Pressing his firm chest into your back, he smiles into the kisses he’s placing so gently along the crevice of your neck. “You like it?” he mumbles against the nape of your neck, placing a tender kiss just below your ear. Giggling at the tickling sensation of his hot breath against your soft skin, you tilt your head back to rest it on the apex of his muscular chest. “I love it, Buck. Thank you,” you whisper, moving to press a tender kiss to his lips. 
As the afternoon commenced and the two of you indulged in each other’s sweet company as the day went on, the two of you found yourselves stumbling back from yet another fancy dinner at an overpriced restaurant. Well, it was merely you doing all of the stumbling as you decided dinner would be a great time for one too many glasses of wine. With his vibranium arm wrapped around your waist for support, you snuggled into Bucky’s side as the two of you walked towards the hotel door entrance. Letting one of your fingers slide up and down the exposed skin peeking through the unbuttoned dress shirt he was wearing, you ogle your half-lidded eyes up at him before unknowingly. 
“What?” Bucky asks with a smirk, keeping a slow pace so the two of you could walk in sync. 
“You just look so handsome,” you lovingly slur, giving him a sweet smile. 
“You think so?” he laughs at your not so “subtle” advances, moving one hand to brush some hair out of your face. “Mhm” you innocently mumble, mewling into his touch. Letting out a breathy chuckle at your drunken state, Bucky tilts his head down to kiss the top of your perfectly done hair as the two of you reach the entrance of the hotel. 
Walking inside, a slight feeling of danger crept through the pit of Bucky’s super-soldier instincts as he nonchalantly scanned the entirety of the lobby for anything that could be remotely considered a threat. Though you were content in your own little world, subtly pointing out beautiful pieces of decor in which you hadn’t seen before or amenities you wanted to indulge in later this evening, Bucky couldn’t do anything more than respond with small mhm’s or “very pretty, baby’s” as he allowed himself to go on the alert. After finding nothing more than a dutiful concierge and overworked bellboys being the only staff still around during hours of the night, Bucky let himself relax ever so slightly before guiding your back to the suite. 
As the two of you enter the suite, you immediately detach yourself from Bucky to wander off through the room in search of the small things you needed for your newly founded night-time idea. While you went off to rummage through your things for whatever it is that you were looking for, Bucky subtly searches the entirety of the suite before locking each and every bolt on the door. This didn’t phase you as you were used to his cautionary ways, however, you couldn’t help but notice the slight shift in his energy. 
“What’s the matter?” you pout, holding a bottle of complimentary champagne and your silk bath robes in which you’d brought from home. Turning to face your voice, Bucky’s slightly stressed out features immediately softened as he looked at the items in your hands. Smirking slightly, he meets you at your place just feet in front of him while gently easing the bottle of champagne out of your hands. “And just what are you planning on doing with this?” he asks, eyebrows raised in amusement. 
Though you noticed the lack of answer for your question, your drunken self let it fall to the back of your mind as you caught sight of Bucky’s strong arms in eyesight. Letting a finger run down the span of his chest just as you’d done before, you giggle before learning up to place a sweet yet sloppy kiss to his lips. “Come take a bath with me,” you mumble before leaning almost our entire body weight into his firm frame. Just before he can lean down to kiss you again, you giggle before grabbing the bottle out of his hand and scurrying your way through the double doors to the grand bathroom. 
Letting out a cocky breath with a slick smile creeping up on the sides of his mouth, Bucky eagerly follows you only to be met with you popping the champagne bottle over the empty bathtub, emitting a delightful childlike squeal from your smaller form. Grabbing two glasses from the marble counter, he walks over to you before taking the bottle so he can pour each of you an even glass. Though the alcohol never could do anything to his system, it sure was fun to indulge with his baby. Leaning up with a wobble to press another kiss to his lips, you kick off your heels which ultimately jerks you down at least five inches against his chest. Seeing your precious form just in front of him, Bucky lets out a content hum as he reattached his lips to yours. That said the lover’s bliss was soon interrupted as his attentive hearing caught the sound of beeping towards your door, signaling that someone had just attempted to open it with a keycard. 
Watching his face fall stone cold in a matter of seconds, yours quickly follows suit to a fearful pout as you let out a small whimper. Grabbing hold of the gun tucked into the back of his waistband, he holds up his finger to bring them against his plumped lips, signaling your silence. Nodding your head in compliance, Bucky slowly points to his gun and then nods down, silently asking if you were currently armed with the gun and holster he’d given you a couple months ago after teaching you how to shoot. You bite your lip in an attempt to stop it from quivering as you gently lift up the soft fabric of your dress to reveal the holster armed and strapped to your thigh. Nodding his head once, Bucky moves silently out of the bathroom all to quickly and sternly point a finger at you as you try to follow, forcing your legs to nearly buckle in obedience and fear as you stay where you are. 
Checking over his shoulder as he continues moving, ensuring that you are in fact following his orders, he moves silently towards the small slender hallway where the suite door is located. Turning the short corner, Bucky keeps his gun held high in front of him as his heart drops to the pit of his stomach at the sight in front of him. Seeing as how the person on the other side of the door couldn’t get through with just their keycard attempt, Bucky watched fuming with anger as the slender wire of a coat hanger slid through the cracks of the hotel door to unlock the chain and bolts on his side of the door in the suite. Thoughts of fury coarse through his mind as he thought of the long list of people who dared interrupt his vacation with his girl. Overcome with the need to protect you and the pure rage for his potential enemy behind the door, Bucky’s jaw clenches with darkened eyes as he prepares himself for whatever ameautur that’s about to walk through that door. With his gun ready and loaded, Bucky fires three rounds simultaneously as the door is sprung open in front of his very eyes, emitting your small yelps from your position. 
Only focusing on the task at hand, Bucky stalks towards the bloodied body of one the bellboys now writhing in pain on the ground in front of him. Aggressively pulling the boy up by his collar, Bucky immediately grabs the phone from the bloodied jacket pocket, “Who sent you?” he spits at the boy below him. Upon hearing the commotion Steve and Sam, who you had no idea were even here, come rushing to the doorway of the suite from their own rooms to see the sight in front of them. Though the boy was in no shape to do anything other than cooperate, he grits his teeth in writhing pain below Bucky before spitting up in the super-soldier’s face. After slamming the boy back down to the ground, Bucky immediately moves to point his gun towards the sweat-glistened forehead of the bellboy before pulling the trigger with no hesitation just before he reads the text on the locked screen. 
“Have you gotten her yet?”
Clenching his teeth in anger, he’s too lost in utter rage to see your trembling form just mere feet behind him. With hands stuck at your sides and trembling legs to go along with it, you stand there covered in the warm crimson liquid of the boy who lays dead in front of the two of you. With the radio silence in the room, you can’t do anything besides stare at the lifeless body on the floor while shaking in fear of the warm tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.
Glancing up at Steve and Sam, Bucky’s face contorts into slight confusion as they’re eyes are fixed on your trembling body just diagonally behind Bucky’s. Following their line of sight, Bucky’s cold face falls into one of sympathy and slight irritation as he spots you staring back at him with widened doe eyes. 
“Handle this.” Bucky whispers to the men in front of him, earning dutiful nods as Steve and Sam haul the body out of the room before closing the door and no doubtedly going to handle everything else. 
“Doll,” he starts slowly, earning a tiny whimper from your form just a couple feet away as your face stays still in panic.
Keeping his eyes fixed on yours, Bucky uses one hand to slowly put down his gun on the table where you can clearly see it before moving towards you at a snail’s pace in an attempt to not frighten you any further. Feeling every bone in your body shake with terror at the scene that had just unfolded in front of you, you feel the warmth of salty tears begin to run down your face as your brain desperately tries to repress the goriness of what you’d just seen. 
Though Bucky wants nothing more than to wrap you in his arms right now, he knows that you’ve only seen a sight such as this once before and that you didn’t need any more instructions right now. Moving to where he’s just steps in front of you, you slightly tilt your head to stare up at his sympathetic ocean eyes. As his eyes take year long seconds to search yours, you’re immediately overcome with intense emotions of regret for not listening to what he’d previously told you and fear for what could have happened had you been alone. Feeling yourself lean into the tears that pour out of your eyes, you hurriedly move to throw yourself into Bucky’s strong frame. Sighing in slight relief, Bucky wraps his arms around you to encompass your shaking body against his own. 
“I’m sorry,” you cry into his chest as you desperately try to rack through all of the thoughts bouncing around your head. “I should have listened to you. I’m sorry,” you continue, heaving as your anxiety begins to overcome your senses. Shushing your apologies and quietly cradling the back of your head into his chest, Bucky pulls you into him as tight as he possibly can for deep rooted fear that you’ll disappear at a moment’s notice. 
“You’re okay. Sh sh, you’re okay,” Bucky repeats as he tries to soothe your sobs. Though this was a frequent and quite easy thing for Bucky to deal with on his own, he always ensured that you were never around any of the violence that came along with business. He desperately sought to keep you away from the dangers of his world, and though he stood perfectly fine, he couldn’t help but feel the guilt wash over him as he held onto your fear stricken body. 
“W-was he gonna hurt you?” you wail out as your smaller hands cling to the back of the fabric of Bucky’s dress shirt. “Are there more of t-them?” you rapidly question as you begin to second guess the security of your surroundings. 
“Hey, hey.” he begins as he takes your glistening cheeks into the palms of each of his hands, “Nobody’s gonna hurt us, okay?” he reassures as he stares down into your teary eyes, nodding as if he’s trying to get the message through to you. “Sam and Steve have it under control. We’re okay, baby,” he adds, allowing you to nod your head once your heaves have slowed down to an almost normal pace. Nodding his head in alignment with yours, he uses one of his thumbs to try and gently wipe off the blood spatters lingering on your face. Seeing as how it only spreads them even more, Bucky kisses the top of your head before ushering your small form tucked against him towards the bathroom to properly clean you off. 
Sitting you down on the edge of the massive tub, Bucky moves to turn on the water before adjusting the handles to get the correct temperature. As you’re sitting there, sobs turned to sniffles, he allows himself to stare back into your eyes which haven’t left his once before grabbing a large towel. Remembering the large blood stain on the floor, seeing as how he doesn’t want you to have to look at the aftermath of the horror you’d just witnessed, he turns his back to walk back out of the bathroom only to hear a panicked whine from you. 
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m ju-” he begins to try and explain himself, but sighs and instantly cuts himself off as he sees your frightened frame coming to follow him. As he stares into your eyes, desperately trying to read all the emotions behind them, he just nods his head as he silently understands that you need him in that moment more than the cosmetics of the hotel room. “Okay,” he agrees to your silent pleas, before moving to strip himself and you of the blood soaked clothing. 
Helping you into the warm water first, Bucky slides himself behind you as the two of you sink into one another. Though this wasn’t the bath you’d initially hoped for, you sat there too frazzled in your own thoughts to do anything other than embrace the unnervingly peaceful moment between you two. After a couple moments of silence, Bucky picks up one of the plush washcloths before dampening it with the now barely pink-tinted water around the two of you. Using one hand to grasp your neck, he gently tilts your head back to where it’s laying on his chest. As the two of you gaze into each other’s eyes, Bucky’s attention turns towards the wash cloth that he’s brought up to your face. 
Tenderly stroking the newly stained material against your dampened face, Bucky idly washes off all of the thick crimson splotches from your face. Sighing as his thoughts of guilt plague his mind, he lets his hand glide over your body as he eventually washes you clean. Taking the tainted cloth from his hand, you soak it back in the water to immediately start caressing him in the same way. Seeing as how he’d just done everything to protect you from harm’s way, you felt you could at least take care of him in the way he’d just done to you. After gently purifying his toned body of any blood stains, he grabs your wrist before placing gentle kisses to your bare still subconsciously trembling hands.
“I’m sorry, doll,” he sympathetically admits as you ring the washcloth out to drape it over the side of the tub. “I didn’t mean for work to ruin your vacation,” he apologizes as his fingers dance along the grooves of your hips below the water. Shaking your head quietly, you tilt your head up to place a sweet and tender kiss to his stubbled jawline before laying your head down on his chest. “It’s okay,” you barely whisper out as your fingers trace the faint scratches on his vibranium arm. “You’ll just have to take me one another one,” you jokingly huff out as you relax your body into your lover’s embrace. 
{tagging: @gxtitobxby by​ @earlgreydream-main​ (let me know if any of you want to be added to the taglist for the mafia men & the gif is not mine!)}
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sweetlyscared · 3 months ago
I’ve always had this idea of Bucky falling for his therapist and forcing himself on her, telling her how much he loves her even though he know she’ll never say it back because it’s against the rules and you get the gist!!!
Do No Harm
Pairing: Soft!Dark!Bucky x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.6k
Summary: Your most difficult patient just got harder.
Warnings: 18+ Only, minors DNI. Dubcon sex acts, implied stalking.
My Masterlist
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"James, I don't think this is appropriate," you whispered.
"Then don't think," his breath was hot against your ear where he nipped your lobe, eliciting a small gasp through your parted lips.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
For the past half a year, your Thursday afternoons were blocked out for one James Buchanan Barnes.
You initially felt unqualified to be his therapist. For one, you were new, having gotten your doctorate and certifications the year prior. Then there was the issue of his unique situation. It wasn't just him being a war veteran, it was the brainwashing and literal decades of trauma.
While you knew how to treat PTSD, you felt a therapist who specializes in veterans would have been better suited for the job.
As you would later find out, his first two therapists were indeed military, and he'd requested a change both times.
Your first meeting with him was tense, and he was every bit as intimidating as you were prepared for.
His blue eyes were both deep and icy as they raked over your form, and he did little to hide his contempt.
"This is just a waste of my time," he scoffed.
"You've been through some immense-"
"-Trauma. Yes. I know. I'm fine."
You were persistent, though, and in time, he opened up.
His case worker was over the moon, happy her most difficult client finally stuck with someone.
Things were going well, and you felt like James made wonderful progress. He was funny, even when he was being bitter about some petty issue with Sam. He was also a lot more sensitive than you were expecting. He loved his friends, and the light that radiated from him when he talked about them was captivating. You couldn’t help but be drawn to him in those moments, like a moth to a flame.
And like a fire, he was dangerous.
So when he brought you tea one day, you were grateful, but when he started doing it consistently, you became concerned.
And when you realized it was made exactly how you liked it, you became worried.
You didn't know if you were looking into things too much. Your tea order wasn’t particularly complex, but there were other behavioral patterns that raised a few alarms. He seemed almost flirty with you. He'd ask you about your personal life, which wasn't entirely uncommon for patients. After all, it's only natural to want to know more about someone whose job was to pick apart your psyche.
It was the way he asked. The gentle smile, the way his gaze lingered on your lip when you spoke.
"Any plans this weekend?" He asked one day as you walked him out of your office.
"No, just working through some paperwork."
"Really? A beautiful woman like you doesn't have plans?" He stared at you with an intensity that compelled you closer and you had to stop yourself from moving towards him.
You felt your face warm at the desire behind his eyes.
"I've got a lot of work," you murmured.
His pink lips smirked, almost affectionate, before he opened his mouth, as if to say something.
"I-" he paused. "Have a good week, Doctor."
You shut the door, heart pounding.
Fear, you thought.
By the time you reached your desk, his case worker's number was ready to be dialed on your phone.
Something within you had you pausing for a moment, before you dialed the number. You could perfectly recall those blue eyes, the way his pupils dilated when you smiled at him, how they seemed darker on rainy days, how you could feel them on you when you weren’t looking at him. He viewed you with an fervor that felt suffocating at times; it was as though he was trying to read your soul, and you felt your skin warm at the thought.
The hard lump in your throat became heavier when you realized it wasn't fear that kept you breathless and your fingers clutched around your phone until your knuckles grew cold.
You weren't afraid of James.
You wanted him.
So you dialed the number and did what you needed to do as a professional.
"Hi Marcy. Yes, I'm fine. I just… I think James Barnes needs to be transferred."
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He didn't show up the following Thursday, and you felt both relieved and regretful. You simply told his case worker you felt you couldn't provide him the care and support he needed.
It had been two weeks since you made the call and you had yet to fill the spot James took on your weekly schedule. You didn't mind, though. There was always paperwork to be done, so you thumbed through the various files and started updating treatment plans.
You hardly noticed the knock on your door the first time, but jolted a little when the second was far louder.
Before you could even get up, James walked in, and you dropped the gold fountain pen where it landed on the floor with a heavy thud.
It didn't take long before he had you pressed against the wall, his lips tracing the edge of your jaw and corners of your mouth but never allowing himself a taste.
"Then don't think."
A nip at your lobe, and the gasp that followed was enough for him to finally seek refuge against your mouth. His lips pressed against yours, which you immediately pressed together. He gently bit your lower lip, and another gasp let him dip his tongue so it ran across yours.
He hummed, as though he had to savor something decadent.
You pushed firmly at his chest and he backed away. He chose to, you realized, knowing that if he wanted to stay put, you couldn’t stop him.
Hopefully, it meant he would be willing to leave.
Those hopes were dashed when he quickly spun you around and pushed you onto your desk. You yelped when your back hit the hard surface and papers scattered on the floor.
“James!” You shrieked, when he swiftly pulled apart your blouse, sending a few buttons flying.
You tried to get back up but felt cool metal wrap around your throat.
The vibranium arm was designed with the precision and genius of a master engineer and the delicate eye of an artist. You’d occasionally see the black and gold metal hand, but you never saw the entire thing. You never heard it either, the mechanisms within it so perfectly tuned.
But you felt it, the minute whirs and clicks as his fingers pressed over your pulse.
His arm was every bit a technical marvel as it was a work of art, but it was also a weapon.
So you froze along with your desire, fear replacing any shred of want that remained.
He must have seen the terrified look in your eyes and sighed, easing the pressure he had on your neck.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he admitted at last.
Those blue eyes traveled downward, where they lingered on your lips before continuing their journey down your body. His hand followed shortly after, and you felt the metal pads of his fingers brush over one of your breasts. Your skin had warmed the vibranium just enough that his touch didn’t chill your feverish flesh but you still felt goosebumps prickle down your arms.
He cupped your breast and leaned down to kiss you once more. Your legs were splayed, and his body pushed them even further apart, your skirt scrunching at your hips. You felt the hardness of his heated length against your core and your pussy fluttered. When you didn’t resist him, you felt his hand dip under your bra and a finger ran over your nipple until it pebbled.
“I’ll stop if you tell me to,” he said after pulling away for air, and you could feel his warm breath tickle your kiss swollen lips.
You weren’t sure if he was being honest, and the way he was playing with your nipple had your core clenching.
“I… I could lose my job,” you said once you could gather your thoughts.
“I’m not your patient anymore,” he murmured.
You shook your head.
“It doesn’t matter; you used to be.”
“Then we won’t say anything about it.”
“James, I can’t.”
“But you want to.”
The corner of his lip quirked up in a small smirk at your silent admission.
“In a year or however long it takes to be a non-issue, we can say we ran into each other and caught up.”
A year?
He didn’t want this to be a one time thing.
“I know it’s your job to be compassionate towards the people under your care, but I know there’s something else here,” he whispered as he pressed his lips to yours once more.
His hand left your chest and ventured lower, where it dipped under your skirt and pushed aside the flimsy fabric of your panties.
You couldn’t hold back the gasp at the feeling of those metal fingers running through your slick folds. You keened when you felt him gently nip at your lower lip.
“Professional or not, this pussy’s weeping for me,” you heard him whisper into your neck where he sucked a bruise onto your skin before running his tongue over it. “So, want me to go?”
Any resolve you had crumbled when you felt a finger breech your opening. You didn’t hold back the soft moan, and he stared at you in rapture.
You shook your head, and felt your pussy flutter at how his pupils expanded.
“Good,” he said and his fingers left your cunt where he sucked your arousal clean.
Effortlessly, he scooped you up and carried you towards the section of your office you conducted your sessions in.
“I’ve been wanting to fuck you on that couch for months.”
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Note: This was meant to be a drabble but I got carried away. So y’all get a short fic!
I'm sorry Anon, I didn't follow the prompt exactly! I still hope you like this!
Sorry for all the errors. This was very minimally edited.
Thank you for reading!
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giorno-plays-piano · 2 months ago
Part I
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Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader
Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, all characters are adults.
Words: 1514.
Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.
P.S. Yes, 5 guys, that’s right. Yes, I’ve finally gone crazy 🤪
To avoid any confusion, I changed the name Savages -> Vicious.
"Are you absolutely sure you want to get transferred... there?"
Student advisor's voice sounded like you asked the woman to throw you in a crocodile lake. Yes, you really wanted to study in Stark Academy, famous for its BI program, and after it finally stopped being all-boys school, you could now leave your boring college and try your luck there. Why everyone was so concerned with it?
"Yes, I want to be transferred there." You repeated stubbornly and saw the woman in the chair in front of you sighing. "What's so wrong with it?"
"Well, for once, it was an all-boys school before." She cocked her head to the side. "Surely, you understand that students there might behave... differently from what you expect."
"Why would they? It's not a high school. Even if these guys live in the Academy's dormitory, they can leave whenever they want and meet whoever they want. We're not in Middle Ages, for god's sake!"
You could see the student advisor growing tired from this heated discussion, but you couldn't stop yourself. Why was she acting so weird? Yeah, maybe she was upset because you were leaving, yet it didn't mean she could say those preposterous things about one of the best academies in the country. All she needed to do was to fill out the forms and prepare your documents. You have long decided what you were going to do with your own life.
"Alright. I will send you the list of personal documents we need."
It's your first day in Stark Academy, and for the first time you think that the old lady might have been right about something: despite the school opening its door for a female students, you'd only spotted two more girls, each enrolled to a program different than yours. You didn’t really understand why there were only three of you here, but maybe others simply couldn't get in: you could see people took their studies way more serious here than in your last place.
Still, being the only woman in class felt very weird. First, it's pretty uncomfortable to be stared at as if you had a second head: boys around were constantly looking at you, making you feel like some rare animal behind the bars in a zoo. Second, because of this pressure, you didn’t really have a chance to socialize, too nervous to talk to somebody.
Oh god, was it going to be like that for the two remaining years? You just wanted to study in a good place, not spend your student years like a recluse.
After the second week you realized guys here were rather... abnormal, to say the least. It was true they could leave dormitory and come back until 9 pm, but the issue with Academy being in the suburbs and having just one bus coming once an hour made travel to the city a hassle. Besides, it was forbidden to bring any strangers to the dorm, regardless of their gender, and you felt like in one of those movies about an all-boys school of the 60s.
In result, many students looked at you like you were from another planet. It was both good and bad at the same time: for instance, when you had fallen down the floor once, at least five of your classmates were helping to pull you up and even inspect if you hurt your knee. Two of them were ready to bring you to nurse, but you politely refused. This kind of attention was very flattering, and your face was growing hot every time you were thinking of that day.
However, the problem with it was too much attention: people were constantly looking at you - even when you just tried having lunch in a cafeteria - and touch you accidentally, brushing their hand against yours, helping you pick up your pens that were literally flying from your desk all the time, and sometimes even touching your shoulder or neck, saying there was a bug on it. It felt... disturbing.
Maybe they need a little time to get accustomed to me being around, you thought while cooking in the shared kitchen, smiling nervously at the guys staring at you. They looked like a pack of hungry wolves, and you had to share your meal again, feeling both irritated and terrifyingly shy when all of them praised you.
It got worse when one day you didn't find your PE tracksuit in the locker when you knew you put it there just yesterday. Of course, you rummaged through your clothes at home, but the tracksuit was nowhere to be found. Now it felt outright scary. When you thought what some guy might do to your clothes, you felt nauseated. It couldn't be true, right? Nobody would do such psycho shit. Besides, you were just an average college girl who wasn't flaunting her physics in front of everyone. There was no reason to act so savage.
And yet, you had to buy yourself a new tracksuit because the old one wasn't found even when you contacted the student office.
The next thing that disappeared was your penal with pens and pencils you left on your desk. You searched for it everywhere - along with your classmates who felt guilty for not guarding your things - but the result was the same. Somebody simply stole it, and no one could do anything about it because there was no camera in that classroom.
You realized you were getting anxious, clenching your bag every time you were heading to the main academy building. You didn't know was it just one person's doing, but the thought that it could be several people left you deeply worried. What were they doing with your things? Obviously, they couldn't sell them - they stole nothing expensive. Why stealing them, then? To make you feel insecure? To use your things for some other purpose you refused even thinking about? God, you hoped it was just someone's stupid joke. Some guys were just plain stupid, right? They simply wanted to make you upset.
By the end of the first semester you were afraid to walk alone. You liked studying in the library that was almost always empty - doing it in the dormitory was impossible because of all the noise - but coming back after that became a torture. You could swear you heard weird noises, whisper, quiet laugh behind your back every time you thought you were being alone. You could even hear someone's footsteps behind your back, and it made you so scared you were running the whole way to your room.
It was horrible. The worst thing was that you didn’t even know whom to talk about that because local student advisor took your words very skeptically. In his eyes, you were just a silly girl who imagined every guy here wanted to sleep with her. While he promised you to do something about the stolen things, you knew you could expect nothing of him.
There were some students you became acquaintances with, like funny Peter a year younger than you or Bucky who sat close to you during French classes. You thought if you could ask one of them to accompany you on your way to the dorm at least sometimes, but then you realized you couldn’t be sure they weren’t the same like those who followed you.
The final straw was when you left your room to go to the shower - luckily, the door had a very good lock - and after coming back you saw your underwear you put on the bed was missing.
Somebody stole your bra and panties from your own room that you kept locked at all times.
It was too much for you to handle. For the first time you were determined to either transfer to the other school or leave it for good, looking for a job and trying your luck next year. It was impossible. You couldn’t stay in a place like this anymore.
However, before you resorted to the last measure, you convinced yourself to go talk to Steve Rogers - being the head of the student council, he had a certain weight in school, and you hoped he could convince whoever was doing this to stop. He was one of those students who had a squeaky-clean image, and you tried to make yourself believing he definitely wasn’t among those freaks who stole your things.
“I believe you,” he said to you first of all as you finished your story, “I’ve heard the rumors about guys stealing somebody’s tracksuit, but I didn’t know who of three women it belonged to. I’m very sorry you got involved into something like this.”
“Can we do anything about it?” You asked him nervously, debating whether you had to visit student advisor’s office right away to demand the transfer.
“Of course. I will find a solution, I promise.” Steve softened when he saw your hands trembling, and then he gently touched you by the shoulder, trying to make you relax. “Meet me tomorrow at 5 in the student council room.”
Part II
Tags: @finleyjayne​ @alexakeyloveloki​   ​@helenaeisenhower​ @villanellevi​ @hurricanerin​ @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @navegandoaciegas​ @rosalynshields​ @brattycherub​ @sllooney​ @angrythingstarlight​ @lookiamtrying​ @buckysbunny​ @soleil-dor​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @dillybuggg​ @literate-lamb​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @jaysayey​ @megzdoodle​ @gotnofucks​ @lux-ravenwolf​ @ximebebx​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ @sourpatchspinster​ @biiskuitx​ @lovelydarkdaydream​ @illyrianprincess​
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angrythingstarlight · 3 months ago
yes yes yes soft!dark!bucky is my fav bucky of all time ::shaky breath::
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
A/N: Sinday drabble #1. No minors.
Warnings: size kink, possessive Bucky, breeding kink.Smut, mentions of violence (not towards reader). Do not copy, rewrire, translate or re post my work.
Possessive Bucky is willing to do anything for you. He spends most of his life in control but will become feral when it comes to you.
Your office laid in pieces, the man who had been harrasing you was even more broken than your splintered desk, shards of glass glittering like Christmas lights across the carpeted floor. Your lamp askew in the corner casting a soft glow across the quiet room.
"Gonna mark up your pretty skin so they know you belong to me." Bucky slide his hands under your thighs, spreading them apart, allowing him to into your warmth. He's going to lay claim to you once and for all.
"Your mine." The words puncture the still, heavy air. Your stomach flutters at the thougj of belonging to Bucky. His darkened blue eyes glazing over as he stretched you, making you take each throbbing inch until you're stuffed so full of him you can only gasp. He's so deep. You're stretched over him and he's-
"Gonna make sure you feel me for days. You feel me in your belly don't you?" Fuck. He presses his hand over the bulge forming in your stomach.
His first thrust pushes your desk into the wall, the legs shaking under his weight. You wail shamelessly unable to control yourself when he snaps his hips into yours, pleasure spiking like wildfire through you. They can hear you, the whole damn office, but when he circles his hips, his cock striking your soft spongy spot you don't care.
"Yours, I'm yours." You scream when he stops, a cruel smirk telling you what he wants from you. Submission. "Please. Please, need you so bad." You try to pull him towards you.
He glances at your small hands on his chest and chuckles. Bucky knows exactly how to turn you into a whimpering needy mess. It's almost cute how easy it is to break you down.
Grabbing your throat with his metal fingers, he brushes his lips across your swollen open mouth. "Oh I know kitten." He moves his lips to your ear. "And when I fuck my cum into this pretty little cunt, make you round and swollen with my babies, they'll all know it too."
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xxindiglow · 4 months ago
You Know Better, Don't You?
Dark!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Word Count: 3.0k (I'm so so soooo sorry)
Summary: Bucky doesn't like being told to move on. Ex-boyfriends are a pain in the ass.
🚨WARNINGS🚨: 18+, Dark!Fic, DUB CON, smut, unprotected sex, minor domestic violence, swearing, cheating and Bucky being an all around douche muffin.
A/N: Warnings serve a purpose. This ain't your thing, keep scrolling. That being said, this is my first time writing dark fanfic. It is all unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. Thank you guys for reading. Your support means the world to me.
xxIndiglow's MASTER LIST
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You kissed your boyfriend goodbye twice on his lips before he smacked your ass loudly and reluctantly walked to his car. Nico wanted to stay over, but you reminded him that he had an early flight that he needed to get ready for. With a smile you promised that you'd make up for lost time once he returned. You waited for him to drive off before you stopped waving and went back inside.
After locking the door you decided to straighten up your living room before calling it a night. With the speakers softly playing Alina Baraz you hummed along softly, dusted here, fluffed there, and huffed heavily while thinking about how your super soldier ex-boyfriend made having company a bit difficult.
Bucky Barnes was a soldier to his core. He was always being whisked away with Sam at a moments' notice. After 4 years of trying to keep on a brave face, being alone for so long finally became too much. Either he was gone and you were worried, or he was home but still feeling like he was ready to move out again.
Breaking up with him was anything but easy. It still isn't easy as the deed seems to be ongoing for the last ten months. Bucky made it clear from the second that your lips uttered the words "separate ways" that he wasn't done with you. You already owned a home together. You'd talked about marriage and possibly kids. As much as it broke your heart to even think about letting him go, your need to have a partner be home with you mentally as well as physically took over.
You pondered how things with Nico were going great the last three months. Luckily, your boyfriend only had a single run in with Bucky. The previous prospects weren't so lucky. While out on a walk in the park with Nico, Bucky just so happened to be walking as well. He did his rehearsed and seemingly innocent introduction followed by a bone crushing handshake with the man. Nico appeared to be a bit intimidated from the jump, but you didn't think much of it as Bucky had a fairly strong presence with just about everyone. It did give you pause after you received a text message from Bucky later that night instructing you to "get rid of that bitch or I'll do it for you."
You couldn't count how many times you'd told Sgt. Barnes to stay away and move on. For a trained soldier he was absolute shit at following orders. However, he was extraordinarily good at sneaking up on you in unexpected places as well as fucking you out of all reasonable thinking.
You turned off the vacuum and shook away the memory of holding on to railing for dear life. A remnant of the last time he'd found you leaving a restaurant after a date had ended. He'd snatched you up quick and pulled you down to a side stairway outside of the building. After he'd pinned you down on the steps and fucked stars into your spinning vision, he left you pantiless and dripping his cum with the promise of killing any opportunity for a second date. Although you were determined to not let him or his ungodly dick ruin anything else for you, a second date never happened.
You were tired and didn't want to amp yourself up with past mistakes and thigh tingling memories. When you were done giving everything a once over in the living room your mind began to settle. You put away the leftover food that you and Nico enjoyed then turned off all of the lights before heading back towards your bedroom to sleep.
Your eyes shot open at the sound of paper crinkling and glass clinks. Was that coming from the kitchen? You asked yourself. You grabbed your phone preparing to call for help. The time reading 3:14am. Still fuzzy from being awakened so suddenly, you tried to get out of bed as quickly and quietly as possible. Being a single woman living alone, you had a gun, but you would've had to make too much noise getting it from the closet. The next best thing was the baseball bat that Nico just so happened to leave in the hallway. You stepped out of the bedroom and swiftly grabbed it. Putting the phone in your nightshirt and angling the bat for an intruder's head you made your way toward the kitchen where the noise was definitely coming from.
"Do you even know how to play baseball?" a familiar voice asked while not caring enough to turn around and look at you.
Your shoulders relaxed as you eased your way closer to the refrigerator where Bucky's back was turned as he rifled through your food. His form was illuminated by the combined fridge and stove overhead lights.
"Haha… ha, asshole. You scared me half to death!" you huffed out in a deadpan tone.
Bucky finally stood up, his arm balancing multiple Tupperware bowls. He turned, sat them down and moved toward you to snatch the bat out of your hand. It tumbled to the floor as he eyed your cleavage and grabbed your phone out as well. He glanced down at it, touching the screen. You assumed he was checking to make sure you hadn't called the cops.
"Yeah? How much damage were you planning to do with a practice bat and bad form while half asleep?" he asked. He diddled on your phone a few more seconds then tossed it down before opening, sniffing, and closing the feast he'd laid out on the kitchen island.
You silently watched him sit aside what he did and didn't want as your racing heart returned to normal. Glancing around at what you could immediately see, you checked that the windows and back door were still locked. You wondered how Bucky even got into the house undetected. Before you could ask you noticed he'd finally settled on the lasagna you and Nico made earlier. He motioned to put it in the microwave before you blurted out that Nico had made that for you and you wanted it for lunch later. He wordlessly dropped the entire bowl into the trash can and grabbed a different container to warm up.
"I told you to get rid of him," he said, still not looking at you.
"Bucky, you need to leave," you rolled your eyes and replied in a leveled tone.
"Don't roll your eyes at me again. You're out of beer."
"I'm not your girlfriend, this isn't your house…anymore, buy your own damn beer. You need to go. I'm tired, I have to work, just -," your words were cut off before you even saw him move.
In a flash your back was slammed against the wall behind you. Bucky's face was inches from yours with his metal arm across your chest. If he wasn't looking at you before, you were all that he could see now. His expression was tired and angry.
"I warned you, Sweetheart. I let you have your fun with this one long enough while I was away. Be smart about this. Call him…end it now… or I will end it for you" Bucky threatened through clenched teeth. He punctuated his last statement with an animalistic growl that you'd only heard once before.
He was holding your chest down so hard that you began to wheeze for air. He allowed you to wiggle away from his grasp to catch your breath. Anger spread through you like wildfire. Who the hell did Bucky think he was? Breaking into your house? Eating your food? Threatening your love life? He had no right. To hell with that. To hell with him!
"I don't know what the hell you -" again, your words were cut off by the loud crashing sound your body made when Bucky grabbed your arm and flung you into the front of the refrigerator.
The shock of being slung so forcefully snatched the remainder of your sentence right out of your mouth. The hard plastic magnets holding up reminder slips and photos all came crashing down around your feet. They echoed in the thick silence as they hit the floor and bounced on the tiles. The microwave beeped obnoxiously but it did nothing to cut into the tension between the two of you. Being closer to the stoves' overhead light you were able to get a better look at him. He was heaving hard in your face. His breath was laced with a scent you hadn't smelled since Thor's last party. He hadn't shaved in days, his hair was oily and eyes were more tired than you'd initially thought.
Your mind finally catching up to what had just happened, you opened your mouth to say something but no words formed. Tears began to burn at the corners of your eyes when the pain in your arm shot up and across your back.
"Tears? For me, darling? How sweet," Bucky spat out with exaggerated delight.
He clutched your nightshirt and dragged you in for a kiss. It's stiff and unexpected. He pulls back and has to take in a breath to suppress his simmering annoyance.
"Aw, don't be like that, sweetheart. I haven't seen you in weeks. Don't you miss me at all?" his last question was hardened with hostility.
He gripped your jaw so hard that it forced your mouth open. You groaned with reluctance but that was swiftly cut off by Bucky's own moan of arousal. His tongue skipped along yours in a familiar rhythm. In your waning haze, this familiarity became a welcome footing to keep you steady. You remembered this. He was right. Damn him, he was right. You did miss him. You found yourself latching onto his way of coaxing your tongue further onto his mouth, his way of nipping at your lips to make you giggle as well as his vibranium hand gripping your waist before traveling down to squeeze your ass.
Before you knew it, tiny moans made an escape through your mouth. Desperate gasps between the both of you filled the silence as you pushed your body onto him. He brought both of his arms down to the backs of your thighs to hoist you up around his waist.
The abrupt movement brought back the pain in your back and your eyes flew open in alarm. Recalling how you'd gotten in this position in the first place you moved to push yourself off of Bucky, but he had you securely wrapped around him. He moved quicker towards the bedroom and let you peel yourself off of him.
"Don't fight this. Don't forget where you belong. To whom… you belong to," he said while undressing himself.
Too fast. Everything was moving too fast. Bucky was insane if he thought he could act so crudely and still expect you to welcome him into your bed. Before you could protest he was on you again. His lips on yours, on your neck, nipping at your collarbone. He ripped your nightshirt off in one movement and ducked to take a nipple into his mouth. That was your undoing. His tongue snaked around and you mewled at his touch.
"You're only allowed to roll your eyes when my face is between your legs. You should know that by now," he stated referencing your earlier infraction.
Looking up at you, he made his way down your body. Kissing every part of your exposed skin that he could get to. He ripped your underwear as well. Another pair down the drain, you thought.
He licked the memory of Nico right out of you. Every flick of his tongue brought your mind back to linger on a moment with Bucky. Every swirl from his fingers replaced each thought of a future with Nico with renewed fantasies with Bucky. Every slurp that reverberated against the bedroom walls brought you closer to cumming in his face. With a final series of swirling and calculated maneuvers, cumming in Bucky's face is exactly what you did. You gripped his hair and moaned loudly, your face frozen momentarily in bliss. He allowed you to lazily come down and lounge in your afterglow. He calmed you with butterfly kisses and languid bites to your inner thighs, loving the way you whispered his name in unrestrained ecstacy.
Tears began to prickle at your eyes again when the arch in your back brought back the pain in your arm as well.
"Aww, sweetheart. I never meant to hurt you. You know that, don't you?" Bucky asked rising to wipe away the tears that freed themselves. His voice was artificially sweet. It was uncomfortable to hear.
Your shiny arousal stuck to his face, matting his untrimmed beard in some places and making his nose glisten obscenely in the moonlight. Shame washed over you at the thought of how you opened up with barely a fight over his kiss. You knew better than this… Didn't you?
You didn't have time to ponder the intricacies of love and manipulation as Bucky worked to flip you over. Before you could vocally protest he had you faced down and ass up, just the way he liked you. He slid in raw with ease. Your cum and his spit made for the slickest lubrication.
Determined to make you feel every inch of his cock, Bucky wasted no time working up to a medium pace to get your hips working to fuck him back properly. Pretty soon he was thrusting with hard strokes, being sure to make you hear how your ass clapped back at him. You weren't quite sure what spurred him on more, the sinful screams that his cock managed to wrench from you, or his bubbling rage at the fact that you hadn't gotten rid of the Nico when he said so.
Being fucked so thoroughly the way you've grown accustomed to didn't allow you to dwell on such useless observations. You heard Bucky's mumbling about how good your heat felt for him and shuddered at the expletives he spat under his breath. He reached down to your hand and guided it to your pussy. The cool metal of the tags around his neck making you shiver. Both yours and his fingers toyed with your clit in sync making tight, toe curling figure 8's. The sensation sparked a million lightning bolts across your field of vision. The world went silent for what felt like hours as your body tensed with your second release.
You felt Bucky turn his upper body in the opposite direction of you and chuckle. Bastard. He was probably looking into the mirror next to the door.
"What a pussy," you heard him mumble.
Not wanting to give him anymore smug satisfaction, you clamped your eyes shut and pulled the nearest pillow into your mouth. Biting down on it to stifle your scream, irritation surged through Bucky instantly.
"No!" he exclaimed, roughly snatching the pillow and tossing it to the floor. "You wanna scream? Hmm? Answer me!" he demanded when your response got caught in your throat.
"I've got neighbors, Bucky. I was trying to be courteous," you lied quickly.
"Yeah? Well courtesy my nuts. You know better than that. If this dick feels good to you then you'd better scream like you mean it. Make me believe you want more. You got it ?" He asked sternly.
"Yeah… I got it," you replied, finally giving in to his commands.
He pushed your head back down and began to stroke you slower. This time being sure to massage into the sore spots he'd caused earlier. One side of you wanted to throw him out, to yell, be upset and tell him to never come back. The other side was stuck, suspended in time and drooling into the mattress as Bucky whispered about how you needed to be reminded of where home was.
All thoughts from both sides were halted as you felt him pound into you harder and then freeze as he spurted into you freely. Covering your walls with all of him and feeling the sheer volume of his release spill out of you made your walls take like a vice grip onto his length. It trickled down and pooled near your clit before it spilled over again and collected into the sheets below you.
Bucky groaned loudly before giving your right ass cheek a final slap and rolling off of you. He landed on the bed at your right side. His eyes closed and a satisfied grin at his lips.
Breathlessly, you rolled over onto your back. With the weight of recent events now beginning to set in, you swallowed thickly. How were you going to untangle yourself from Bucky now that you'd given into him even more. Then there was Nico. What words could you say to him that wouldn't sound like you'd already betrayed him? In the lingering silence you'd heard the microwave beep again. The food Bucky was reheating had long been forgotten.
You got up to quiet the shrill reminder and was stopped short by Nico's baseball bat being sat upright in the doorway. Hadn't Bucky tossed it on the kitchen floor? The realization hitting you like a ton of bricks made you stumble backwards into the bed.
"Bucky! Look! The bat, it - "
Your warning was cut short by the sight of Bucky easily tucking his arms behind his head and huffing an unbothered breath.
"Don't worry about it. I heard him lock the door when he left," Bucky responded.
When he left? What does that mean? Who? When who left? Your mind was running a mile a minute and then another realization hit you. You turned to Bucky with fury in your eyes.
"What did you do?!" you asked.
"I told you, Sweetheart. If you didn't get rid of him then I would." After a long pause under your furious gaze he popped one eye opened and added, "I also told you that your birthday is a terrible pass code for your phone."
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nsfwsebbie · 3 months ago
the nearness of you.
summary. | He’s close, almost too close. Just suffocating you, not letting you have one ounce of freedom. But he’s only sitting across from you. So why does the nearness of him hurt so much?
warnings. | Noncon, exhibitionism, orgasm denial/edging, dark themes, breaking and entering, stalking, obsession, use of vibrator, mentions of panty sniffing, mentions of male masturbation, sex fantasies (choking, sadism, penetration, oral, breeding, etc...), drinking, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
word count. | 4k
pairings. | Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader.
a/n. | happy birthday @threeminutesoflife! i hope you have an amazing day and that you enjoy yourself. thank you for being such a good friend. happy birthday, ily! please enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know.
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He’s close, too close.
Though the table is around a metre and a quarter in width, you feel like you’re suffocating.
“How’s your wine? Hope it isn’t too much. Expensive things usually mean the creators overdo it,” he chuckles briskly. Yeah, he’s right. “No, it’s fine… It’s just that I’ve never tried something like this,” you admit to him, wringing your hands. They’re cold, yet they have a sheen of sweat covering them. You wipe them over your dress a few times, but it doesn’t seem to solve your predicament.
“Me neither. I honestly prefer beer over this!” Bucky exclaims, even though he tilts the glass back and chugs the wine. “Hm.” Your plate is empty. You find appetizers to be stupid—what even is the point of them? They fill you up for two seconds and just leave you to be even hungrier. “It sounds stupid; it really does, but is it weird that I drink for the taste? I can’t get drunk, but there’s something about the taste that makes me want to grab another beer,” he chuckles, setting down his glass.
“It’s uh, it’s not weird at all. Makes sense, to be honest,” you smile at him. He flashes an even more giant grin, staring at you for a bit before you look down. Your reflection is warped. The circles of the plate are faint; they’re from the hands of the crafter, and you find it so interesting how dishes are made. You’ve taken a pottery class once—it was fun—but the lopsided green bowl you made and painted no longer exists. It fell from a shelf and broke into tiny little pieces.
Maybe because it was too close to the edge.
“Remind me to never come here ever again. I didn’t pay over two hundred dollars for the service to be this slow,” Bucky laughs, and you shake your head. You know he’s just being lighthearted, but it’s still wrong of him to say such things. “Well, it’s busy, Buck. They just can’t rush things,” you remind him. “I know, but we’ve been sitting here for over thirty minutes!” he reasons, and you fight your hardest to not smile.
“How about we play a game to pass the time?” he proposes, and you nod. “Sure, it just depends on the game,” you tell him. Your hands rest on the table, and you can feel an old lady cast a glare towards you. “I spy, have you ever played it?” he questions, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “I have; it was my favourite game to play on road trips,” you recount to him, grabbing your glass of wine again,
This time, you only take a small sip.
“Okay, well… I spy with my little eye, something that is dark red,” he starts. You’d say the wine, but that’s too obvious. You look around the restaurant, trying not to be too obvious. “Hmm… Is it that lady’s hat?” you ask him, nodding your head in her direction. He looks her way but then turns back to you with a frown on his face. “Sorry, doll, it’s just right under your nose,” he hints. You look down, just to be faced with the glass of wine.
“I knew it. That was my first guess!” you exclaim, gripping the stem of the glass. You swirl the liquid around and watch as a cyclone forms inside the drink. It spins and spins, just like those black and white strips that hypnotize you. “Since you lose, I’ll have to punish you,” he smirks, his voice dropping just a few octaves. You look up at him in shock, not liking what he might be implying. You barely even know him—he’s never been to your house, and you haven’t spoken to him other than on the phone and on dates.
“Look-” you start before he cuts you off with a laugh. “I’m just playing. All you gotta do is finish that glass of wine,” he tells you, his eyes a bit glassy and dark. “Oh, my bad.” You pick the glass up and bring it to your lips, swallowing all of the wine as Bucky watches you. Not a drop is left-back, and you feel proud of yourself. “Good girl,” he mutters quietly. The sound of chatter that reverberates throughout the restaurant hides his words, and he’s thankful.
Dim lighting that is the same colour as the sun that sets on the horizon at around seven-something in the evening. There are more shadows in the room than anything, and the darkness hides his wandering eyes from your careful ones. The floors are made of sleek wood, possibly oak or something else. Clearly not suitable for dancing, which is why he believes it’s idiotic for them to have a miniature orchestra playing Beethoven and Tchaikovsky.
“Let me get someone to bring another bottle, that way, we can have more fun,” Bucky proposes, and you hesitate in agreeing with him. If you drink your heart away, the night most definitely won’t end well. Before you can even reason with him, he’s lifting his arm up and signalling a waitress to come by. You burn out the rest of their conversation, ears on fire and your mind buzzes.
The vibration spreads throughout your body, down to your toes and even to your pussy. You’re ashamed, but it’s something you must get used to. Whenever you get drunk—or, well, whenever you drink alcohol—you get a bit… frisky. Your skin turns hot to the touch, and you need to touch something or someone to keep yourself stable. Some of your friends think it’s funny and laughable, but your past flings have always thought it’s cute.
You’re never sure what it truly is.
You watch as your glass is filled up with more wine, all the way up to the brim, and you realize that you could really go for a fancy meal right about now. “Thinking about that food? Me too. Should’ve asked the waitress. But I suppose this wine will do us good until then,” he chuckles, and you can feel the tingling between your legs begin to intensify. Almost like your well-loved toy, there’s a slight vibration that shouldn’t be there. But you suppose it’s just the wine—because it always is. Right?
Warmth fills your core, and you’re a bit flushed. Sweat begins to build upon your back like a thin layer of silk. Your clit pulsates a bit, and you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the second. Your head rolls a bit, only a little bit. You squeeze your thighs together and wiggle them around, trying to alleviate this new ache that just seems to get worse and worse. Closing your eyes, you sigh and try to compose yourself.
“Your turn,” he tells you, and you nod. You look around, trying to find something to settle your sights on. The vase that stands on the lectern where the hostess sits catches your eye, and you smirk. “I spy with my little eye… Something made of porcelain and is black,” you tell Bucky before grabbing your glass again. You tilt it only slightly because it’s already so full. Red alcohol slips past your equally as bloodied lips, and you ask yourself why you don’t drink wine more.
He turns himself entirely in his chair, and you’re sure he’ll never figure it out. “Is it that vase over there?” he asks, pointing at it with no shame. “Yeah, it is,” you tell him, and he smiles at you. He doesn’t turn around, and he keeps looking at the vase. The back of his hair isn’t as gelled as the top, and you’re not sure how to feel about it. The back of his suit is slightly wrinkled—folds and crease lines that could use a good ironing. The shirt is too tight for him, and so is the jacket. It seems a few years younger than your dress, and curiosity comes around the corner.
“When’s the last time you’ve been on a date?” you question, setting down your glass of wine. Your ears, they burn. White noise fills the room, and you wonder if people have stopped talking or if the orchestra has started to play louder. He turns back around, his face stern and stoic. “Few years, what about you?” he asks in return, placing his hands in his laps. He stares into your eyes—and though you can’t see it too well—you can feel it. “Same. Same thing.” You pick your glass up again, and you realize that it’s halfway finished.
You want more. More wine, more love, more space.
But he feels closer than ever. Almost as if the table has shrunken, and he’s tucked himself in so much that his lungs have barely any space to expand. Almost. “More wine? Take it, take it all. I should probably try to sober up, chauffeur’s responsibility,” Bucky jokes, and you laugh dryly behind your cup. The buzzing—tingling—whatever it is, it’s intense. Wetness pools in your panties, and you’ve soaked the black cotton. The pair is new, and it kind of hurts to have them ruined already, but it’s not the end of the world.
You drink, and you drink until there’s nothing in the glass anymore. Your other hand grips the edge of your dress, and you set the cup down. “Easy there, tiger, everything okay?” Bucky asks, tilting his head innocently. He licks his lips, wetting them before flashing you a kind smile. “Yeah, low tolerance, that’s all,” you inform him, waving your other hand. You sit a bit further back into your chair, not caring that it doesn’t look good. You shut your eyes again, and darkness fills both your vision and mind.
Bucky, on the other hand, has a vivid movie projecting in his mind.
His metal hand wraps around your throat as Bucky’s cock thrusts in and out of you gently, only half of himself inside you. You’re begging him so sweetly, “please, Bucky,” and he just can’t say no to that fucked out face of yours. “Shh, it’s okay, doll, I’m gonna fuck you so good, okay? You better be grateful,” he tells you, and you nod fervently. He slowly pushes inside you, and you’re gripping him tightly. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he groans in your ear. Your back arches off the bed as Bucky splits you in two, and it’s so overwhelming.
He squeezes your neck tighter, and he pulls you towards his cock. “Don’t try to run away, baby; I’ll always catch you,” he warns, and you nod. His tip nudges your sweet spot, and you cry out in pleasure. Wetness gushes from your stretched-out hole, and you coat him with stickiness. You feel as though the wind is being knocked out of you, and you struggle to catch your breath. “Fuck, I can’t wait to fill this tight pussy with my seed. Gonna knock you up with my baby,” he moans, beginning to thrust in and out of you. He brings his face down to yours until your noses touch.
He’s close, way too close.
You look up at the clock that you swear you’ve seen at Walmart a few months ago. Or was it last week? You’re not sure, you don’t fully know anything as of now, and it’s just a tad bit terrifying. You bring your left leg over your right, crossing them so that the pulsating pleasure between your legs can go away. It’s a low hum, one that you’d love if your goal was to tease yourself. But that’s not what you want. You want space. “Everything okay, baby? You’re looking a bit… troubled, over there,” Bucky questions, leaning forward.
He places his face in the palm of his flesh hand, and the metal one rests on the table. “Just a bit hot, I guess. But this always happens when I drink, I’m fine,” you inform him, and he nods in understanding. The restaurant is nearly empty, and you’re not sure where everyone went. And your food still hasn’t arrived yet. “You sure? You don’t look too fine. Is it the chills? Those are common during this time of the year, especially when it gets cold at night,” he reasons.
You shake your head and stick your hands up the slit of your dress, pressing them against your soaking pussy. You’re too focused on the pleasurable feeling of your hand to notice the slight vibration on your palm. You press the base of your hand against your clit, and you struggle to hold back a soft moan.
“Wonder if they forgot about us; seems like we’re the only ones here,” he ponders out loud. You don’t take in his words properly, and you don’t pay attention to how empty the restaurant is. You can swear it’s always been this void, and only the music has gotten louder.
“Finish your glass of wine, and I’ll go inquire, okay? Maybe that’ll help out,” he tells you before moving to stand up. “No! No, don’t. It’s not… proper. They’re busy. Sit down,” you snap, your jaw shaking because you’re just a tad bit fed up with his impatience. You don’t feel bad at all because he’s had it coming this entire evening. Bucky stares at you as you take your hands out from between your legs, and you grab your drink. He stuffs one of his hands into one of the deep pockets, feeling around for something. You tilt the glass back and finish the wine inside, and Bucky sighs.
“You’re right,” he says, walking back to his seat. He sits down before scooting himself to the side of the table. The vibrations have gone away, but you’re not sure why. Maybe you’re just getting used to the alcohol. Or perhaps it’s something else. “Sorry for being so… abrasive,” you apologize, gathering yourself and putting the broken pieces of your resolve back together. “No, I get it. Being so on edge gets me like that too,” he smiles before looking down at his new leather shoes. They shine so nicely, he can see the light.
But it doesn’t compare to a certain sheen he saw a few months ago.
You tend to present yourself as put together for the sake of the lack of disappointment in your peers. When someone comes over, you shove all your belongings into a closet and hope for the best. You’re not a total slob; you just get busy and tired quickly. He’d take the liberty of cleaning your place up, but then his plan would be ruined, and he’d have to do things he doesn’t want to do just yet. Yet.
So he tiptoes between the Amazon boxes and grocery store bags that take up more space than your furniture, careful to not touch anything. The garbage that litters your home makes him feel like he’s suffering for breath, as if the walls and the ceiling are too close to each other. He gently pushes the door to your bedroom open, and he’s quite frankly surprised. The room is spick and span, not one thing out of place, and you’ve just made reaching his goal a lot easier.
His shoes have no dirt on them, so he doesn’t have to be careful when treading your overly large carpet. No large jumps and no need for gloves either. He doesn’t want to look at the pictures that hang up on your wall or any notebooks that are being squashed beneath your mattress. You’ll show them to him in your own time. Bucky heads straight for the dresser, where the drawers hold your undergarments and other little wants and needs. He pulls the left one open—because he knows it has your panties and the right one holds your bras and lingerie.
He only has this information because he’s seen you accidentally wake up late and rush to get ready one too many times. An alarm clock that actually works could do you good, but Bucky would much rather wake you up with his face between your legs or maybe some soft kisses on your body. Or maybe even with a stack of pancakes coated in sugar syrup with berries and juice on the side. The possibilities are endless, and he just can’t wait to finally meet you and ask you out.
He stares into the drawer, searching for a specific pair of panties. They’re a mix of black lace and cotton, with a small red heart that would rest on your hip when you put them on. He doesn’t want to go digging and searching in your drawer because even though you’re a mess, you’re not stupid and oblivious. And that fact pains him. Sure, he could easily fuck you until you’re dumb and naive, nothing but his girl, but how long will that last? You’d see through every facade of his.
Grumbling, Bucky slams your drawer shut, not caring that some things in your room are shaking from his sudden outburst. He doesn’t take the time to do one of those breathing exercises his therapist constantly reminds him to do, and instead, he struts to the laundry basket. It’s filled to the brim and struggling so hard to contain everything inside. It’s just a tad bit sad, really. You don’t have anyone to take care of you, and you don’t seem like you’re making an effort to learn. Sitting on top of the dismal pile of clothing is that pair of panties he’s been so desperate to touch.
He slowly reaches out to grab them, almost as if he’s about to touch something God made especially for him. He eventually makes the jump, swiftly holding them by the band and bringing them up to his face. You only woke up and left an hour ago, and he shouldn’t be surprised, but he is. Your panties shine and glisten with wetness, possibly from some sort of wet dream or wild thoughts. He wonders if you touched yourself because the mess is so big. But the details aren’t too important to him now.
Bucky bunches them up and brings them closer to his nose before inhaling your sweet scent deeply. Blood rushes down to his cock, plumping it up and turning him harder than a rock. “Fuck,” he groans, wanting so desperately to unzip his pants and stick his hands down his boxers. And he does, all while your panties remain in his left hand. Images and thoughts of you choking on his cock, taking him all the way until you can’t breathe all fill his mind. He’d love to see you get teary-eyed, to slap him so he can let you go even though he’s the one in control. It’s perfect, fucking perfect.
“Bucky? I’m talking to you,” you call, snapping him out of his deep memories. “What? Oh, sorry, what were you saying?” he questions, looking up at you with a smirk. He tries so hard to play off the way his cock is throbbing in his pants, and he does so successfully. “I was just wondering if you were okay with pouring me another glass? I’m much more in control now. I’m just really thirsty,” you explain to him, wringing your sweaty hands. You’re slightly puzzled. You’ve drunk so much, and those tingles went away just like that?
He reaches back into his pocket, pushes the small notch of the remote up a new level before grabbing the bottle. “You sure? I mean, drinking on an empty stomach isn’t good,” Bucky assures, and you nod. “I- I ate the uh, the appetizers before,” you tell him, and you choke on a few of your words. The feeling has returned, and you regret asking for another glass. He nods and stands up to pour you a drink, and you now realize that he’s sitting more so besides you than across.
You grip your thighs and try your hardest not to break the first layer of skin with your nails. You have enough stupid scars; there’s no need for a few more. “Only half a glass, please,” you whisper to Bucky, trying to discreetly move a bit further away from him. “Okay, whatever you want,” he hums before returning back to your glass. You decide to grip the sides of the chair, trying to get better leverage of movement. Slowly but surely, you move away from him. You push the chair a little further, and a squeak comes from it.
He continues to pour, but his eyes snap up at yours. “Where do you think you’re going? I hope you’re not running away from me. The thought hurts my heart, baby,” he pouts, and he tilts the bottle even more. A few droplets of wine splashes onto your dress, and you flinch in surprise. “I- It’s just that you’re so c- close to me, and this is a date, right? So we should be across from each other!” you quickly explain to him, even though you’re spewing utter lies.
“Don’t lie, I hate liars,” he spits, placing the wine bottle on the table. A splash accompanies it, and now the table cloth is stained with a Bordeaux shade of red. You squint your eyes shut, hoping that maybe he’ll see your discomfort and soften on you. But he doesn’t. You open them back up, just to find Bucky staring at you. “Look, I’m sorry, I just don’t like how close you are to me,” you reveal to him, squeezing your hands into tight fists.
“You- You don’t like how close I am to you?” he repeats in shock and confusion. You nod your head and notice the light vibrations on your clit beginning to strengthen. You let out a soft gasp, more wetness soaking your panties and your clit throbs with want and need. Involuntarily, you buck your hips upwards and roll them, practically humping the air like a bitch in heat. “Baby, we’re bound to be close! We’re soulmates, and soulmates are always close!” he cheers, sitting back down.
Bucky grabs your arm and pulls you towards him, but you grab your chair to stop him. Your legs are shaky, and you can barely stand on them. The room spins, and you genuinely wonder if this even is a restaurant because there is no noise from the kitchen, and there aren’t any windows either. Everything is hazy, and you let go of the chair. You fall into Bucky’s lap with a whimper, and he grips your waist tightly. “We’re not soulmates, James. We’re just going on dates, and right now, I want to leave,” you argue, trying to pull away from him.
Your movements are slow and lethargic. They’re pathetic and laughable to Bucky. “Yes, we are, shut the fuck up. I’ve seen every bit of you. I know you better than you know yourself, baby. Don’t break my heart,” he whispers through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. “You’re fucking insane, oh my God,” you shriek quietly, ready to sob your heart out. He pulls you closer, and you can feel his breath fanning on your skin. He’s so close, too close to you.
The nearness of him hurts, and so does his grip on you. You can barely get any air, and you feel like you’re going to pass out. You finally understand that bowl of yours. It was too close to its doom, and it fell into pieces. “‘M not, just crazy for you and your love, baby, that’s all,” he expresses, as if he’s your boyfriend of three years. “And plus, I’ve technically touched you down there. That seals the deal, no?” Bucky questions, and your face twists in confusion.
“W- What?” you ask, no longer trying to squirm away from him. His right hand reaches into his pocket, and Bucky pulls a small egg-shaped remote. It’s a vibrant pink, and the numbers one through ten are marked on it. “You get frisky when you’re drunk, baby, just not that needy. But it’s okay, I’m here now, and I’m never going to leave your side,” Bucky purrs, pushing the notch all the way to ten. You let out a loud moan, and your eyes roll backwards.
You never should’ve let him get close to you.
906 notes · View notes
mhysa-leesi · a month ago
ᵀʰᵉ ᵂᵒᵐᵃⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᴾʰᵒᵗᵒᵍʳᵃᵖʰˢ
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Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes 𝒳 (femme) Reader 📸.
Summary: "Bucky finds an old journal he kept as the Winter Soldier that brings back old obsessions."
Word Count: 3,795
TW: Non-Con, Smut, Anal, Blowjob/Face Fucking, Gunplay (Use of Gun), Male Masturbation, Mentions of Blood, Coercion, Minor Descriptions of Stalking, Obsessive Behaviors, and Strong Language. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼
AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. If you'd like to join my permanent taglist to stay updated on new and upcoming fics, please fill out this Google Form. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.
ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Is this is a random self-indulgent fic that was based on a daydream I had that has set my schedule back? Yes, yes it is. Enjoy.
AN Cont.: If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION.
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Autumn breeze carries the scent of damp earth on golden leaves under a pearly-grey sky. Bucky’s thoughts become a haze of scarlet and amber as he frowns at the deserted safehouse in front of him.
“You comin’?” asks Sam as he rips through vines of ivy that had climbed the small building. Bucky grumbles as small acorns crack under his boots, the fragmented cupules trodden into the soft November mud as he stomps his way toward Sam.
Sunset wilted on the horizon in a wash of reds, yellows, blues, and soft violets. Bucky closed his eyes and listened to the crackling of their thrown-together fire. The small flame echoing under the duvet of the arising night as it sent sparks dancing into the breeze.
“This place is a piece of shit, Barnes,” Sam said, breaking the comfortable silence between them.
“It beats sleeping outside,” Bucky says as he folds his hands behind his head nonchalantly.
Sam looks around the ruined building; moonlight seeped in through the holes of the roof, bathing them both in silver starlight, and wild hearts of evergreen ivy overtook the cracked stone walls, “Yeah…” he deadpanned as a single moth flitted toward the fireflame.
Sam grimaced as he shifted atop the stained mattress, trying his best to avoid the mystery stains, “No lie, Barnes, I think I’d rather sleep outside."
“It’s not that bad,” the other said as he swatted a small spider that dangled from a thread of its silk.
Sam huffed, “I’m gonna go look for a sheet or somethin’, man, this is… Disgusting.”
Bucky shook his head as he kept his eyes closed, enjoying the moment of silence that came with Sam’s absence.
Bucky wasn’t exactly sure when he had fallen asleep, it had stalked up on him like a silent predator. Sinking its teeth and claws into his subconscious, turning the soft twilight hues of his dream into violent shocks of red as nightmarish screams and gunshots rang in his ears. In his nightmare, Bucky looks into a puddle of blood of a past person he’s murdered. He recognizes himself; the same steel-blue eyes, same chin, same nose. Yet he is not himself, in this ruby-painted reflection he is Him. The Winter Soldier.
His reflection smiles at him before aiming his gun and shooting. The puddled blood splashes back and splatters across Bucky’s face as he falls backward onto his back. He can feel it on him, the spilled blood burning through his skin and down to his bones. It’s on his face, his hands. All that blood is on his hands. Bucky’s heart begins to painfully pound against his ribcage as it threatens to beat out of his chest…
He wakes with a start, a cold sheen of sweat on his burning skin. Bucky’s chest heaves as he tries to calm his rapid breaths, to forget the nightmare that clung to his waking mind like a leech. He looked at his hands, they were clean, but he could still feel that warm burn. Bucky shook as he was yet again forced to relive the worst years of his entire life. He could still hear the screams, still, smell that metallic sharpness of blood, and he could still see their faces. All of their faces.
A loud and abrupt, guttural snore snaps Bucky out of his mind. He looks across the room to see Sam sleeping peacefully with an arm draped over his face and his mouth agape. Bucky stays like that for a while, envious as he just silently listens to the ebb and flow of Sam’s breaths, wondering what he could possibly be dreaming about. He stares up through the holed ceiling at the millions of stars above. He tries to count them, to lull himself back to sleep, but by the time he counted one-hundred stars, he knew it was pointless.
The firelight swayed and flickered as it clung to the last of the drywood. The golden ember shrinks as it consumes soot and the last splinters of wood. Outside, the moon had washed the forest browns and greens out to silver ink, as star-spun night wove itself through the trees. It was cold, much colder than it had been when the sun still shone. Frost laced the grass, the ice crystals crunching under Bucky’s boots as he made his way toward a smaller woodshed behind the house.
The smell of pine and earthy sap fills Bucky’s nose as he shuffles through the chopped firewood, the sugary sap sticking to his metal fingers as he creates a small pile. He kicks aside splintered pieces as he leaves, his foot catching on a raised flooring plank that sends him stumbling off balance. He groans as he trips over his dropped firewood, frustrated he rips out the floorboard, tossing it into the pile of chopped wood with every intention of burning the damn thing.
Buried within the floorboard was a black, bound journal that caught Bucky’s attention. He forgets about the wood and dying fire as he picks up the black book, unraveling the leather bind until the flattened pages are roughen with life. Inside were pages of photographs of the same woman, all dated with detailed descriptions. He flipped through them as something he could only describe as familiarity sparked within him. Even if his mind didn’t remember her, his heart certainly did.
Bucky found himself flushed as he stopped at a certain photograph of the Woman. She was caught undressing, wearing only her lace panties. He gulped as he stared at her body, unconsciously tracing over the curve of her bent over ass as if it was muscle memory. The butterflies that had been frozen for years thawed, from the warmth of his blossoming desire, and flitted around his lower abdomen. His breath hitched as he felt himself twitch in his pants.
He let his mind wander as he imagined the feel of your skin against his--he just knew it was smooth. He adjusted himself as he pictured how she’d look as she squirmed underneath him, how her hair would become tousled, how her lip would look caught between her teeth. Bucky shivered with excitement as he palmed himself through his jeans. He unzipped and pulled himself out as he leaned against the pine logs. He teased his tip, imagining her kittenish licks and lips wrapped around him. Bucky moaned as he started to fuck into his fist, keeping his hand tight and pumps hard and fast as he imagined it was her cunt clenching around him and not his hand. His breaths become shallow as he speeds up, the muscles in his lower abdomen and thighs flexing as he dives headfirst into an ocean of pleasure. He bites down on his left hand, to keep himself from shouting, as he orgasms. His cum shooting across the photograph of Her.
Bucky let his head fall back as he basked in the afterglow of his climax. No one had made him feel the way this woman did, he knew she was the one. He wanted her for himself, wanted to make her his. Bucky smiled to himself as he found her scribbled address under one of her photos, a photograph of her sleeping peacefully. He wasn’t sure if she’d still be there, but he’d find her anywhere--he knew He’d always find her…
You woke up with a start as your alarm blared loudly in your ear. You rolled onto your side and looked at the clock on your phone screen. 8:00 AM--shit you were late for your shift at the cafe. You jumped out of bed and rushed around your apartment. Brushing your teeth in the shower and dressing as you ran out the door and down to the parking garage.
You ran down the street toward the subway station, stepping in a chewed piece of gum as you flew down the stairs, grimacing as a flyer stuck to the bottom of your shoe. Your stomach dropped as you fumbled around your bag for your MetroCard, you looked through your wallet, and your pockets, dread sunk your gut as you came up empty-handed. You ran to the booking clerk and opened your wallet, fuck, you forgot you used most of your cash for takeout last night. The man at the counter frowned at you as you slowly counted out your change. You met his eyes and mirrored his frown as you glanced at the clock.
You abandoned the subway station as you ran toward your job. It took longer than you would’ve liked, but you made it there in the end--albeit you were extremely late. Your manager met you with a stony scowl chiseled on his face as he worked behind the counter. Wasting no time, you slipped on your apron and joined him.
“You’re late,” he said, his voice missing his usual lively quips.
“Slept in,” you smiled as you handed a customer their drink, “Won’t happen again.”
“Better not,” he sighed, “This is your second strike, (Y/N). Need I remind you what happens if you reach three?”
“Nope. No reminder needed, Bob,”
The rest of the day went by as usual. The morning rush lulled to a quiet pause, and the lunch rush was as empty and quiet as ever. You wiped down the counter and machines, humming along to the radio as you cleaned. Just as the song ended, the tiny bell above the door chimed as a customer walked in.
“Hi, welcome to Cafe Diem, what can I get for you today?” you chirped.
“Just a black coffee, please,” the man said.
“Can I have your name, Sir?” you ask as you write down his order on the side of his plastic cup.
You smile at the man as you hand back his change, slightly blushing as you catch a glimpse of him under the brim of his hat. He was handsome, with clear blue eyes and a cleft chin. The man lowered his eyes and shuffled toward the end of the counter to wait for his drink. Even with your back turned you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move as you made his coffee. You turned back around and handed him his drink with a smile.
“Thanks, (Y/N),” he said.
You paled for a moment before you remember your name-tag, “You’re welcome. Have a nice day, Sir.”
“Bucky,” he reminds you.
“Have a nice day, Bucky,” you repeat with a tightlipped smile and a curt nod.
You let out a tired yawn as you locked your apartment door, lazily tossing your bag onto the couch without so much as a second thought. After toeing off your shoes you went straight for the container of leftover Pad Thai from the night before. You checked your socials as you ate; leaving empty congratulations on your friend’s engagement photos and maternity shoots. You stared at your leftover noodles and frowned, here you were, a lonely college dropout that worked with high schoolers at a coffee shop, and there they were, getting married and having babies. Where the hell did you go wrong?
You tossed your container away and went to take a shower, dressing in an oversized, torn sweatshirt. You hissed and cursed as you stepped down on something hard and plastic as you came out of the bathroom. You kicked it out from under the rug, sending it skidding across the floor and under your bed. You bent down and grabbed it, your name-tag. You thought back to this morning and to your workday, you couldn’t really remember if you had even put it on--but you certainly knew you hadn’t taken it off.
You sat on your bed, just staring at the piece of plastic with your name on it when your apartment went totally dark. You flipped your light switches on and off and got nothing each time. Using the flashlight from your phone you walked around your dark apartment and out into the hallway. Mrs. Jackson, your sweet old neighbor poked her head out at the same time.
“Looks like the entire building’s power is out,” she frowned.
“Has this happened before?” you asked the longtime tenant.
She tapped her fingers against her cane as she thought, “Not for a while, and that was only during a bad storm.”
You stayed out in the hallway with her as she rambled on until she finally lost her train of thought. You locked your door and made your way back to your room, stopping in the living room as you noticed an open window. The neon lights of the city illuminated your dark apartment through your billowing curtains as a chilled breeze drifted in. You just stood there, wondering when you had opened it or if you had just forgotten to close it. Something in your gut screamed at you to get the hell out of there, that you did not forget to close that damn window because you never opened it in the first place. But you ignored it; these past couple of days hadn’t been the best and you were stressed and burnt-out, it could’ve easily slipped your mind with the chaos that was this past week.
You felt worse as you closed and locked it, it didn’t feel right. Your hands shook with anxiety as you debated on whether you should go next door and stay at Mrs. Jackson’s for the night or not. You’ve been over there plenty of times to feed her cat when she was out of town visiting her grandkids, and she liked you enough to drop off fresh blueberry pies to you every time she baked them, so she wouldn’t mind having you sleep on her couch for tonight, would she? You stared at your own neon-lit reflection as you thought it over. You’re just being paranoid, you thought to yourself, just go to bed and forget about it. So, that’s what you did. You went to bed.
You tossed and turned, tangling yourself in your blanket as you bent and unbent your leg to find that particular cool spot. Just as you got comfortable and were about to fall asleep, a foreign creaking woke you. You lay frozen with wide eyes as you listened to the creaking come closer and closer. Your heart pounded with fear as you heard them come to a stop, you slid to the floor and tiptoed toward the door, quietly twisting the lock in place.
You bent down and looked underneath your bedroom door, but there was nothing. No shadow, no feet. Creak… You froze as you heard the footsteps once more, your heart dropped as you finally realized where they had been coming from. You stood and turned toward your bathroom, praying that you were wrong. The doorknob seemed to weigh a thousand pounds as you slowly turned it, your heart beating frantically in your chest as you pushed the bathroom door open. Nothing…
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding as you looked into your empty bathroom. You laughed at yourself for being so irrationally scared, the complex was old as shit, of course, it was going to creak.
Click. You froze as you felt something hard press into the back of your head.
“Turn around and don’t scream, doll,” said a voice from behind.
You stiffly did as you were told and gasped as you came face to face with a gun. Your breaths quickened and your heart pounded as you recognized the face of the man from the coffee shop.
“Do you remember me?” he asked.
You nodded stiffly.
“What’s my name?”
You shook, then. What was his name? What the fuck was his goddamn name?! “I–I don’t remember,” you sobbed.
Bucky frowned at that. He brought his gun down to your mouth and parted your lips with its muzzle, “You don’t remember,” he mocked as he shoved the barrel down your throat, making you choke around it.
He kept the gun in your mouth as he led you backward until the back of your knees met your bed. You sat down and sniffled as tears streaked down your cheeks. He wiped them away with metal fingers and cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at him.
“My name’s Bucky, (Y/N),” he told you, “Are you going to remember it?”
You nodded and he smiled as he removed his gun from your mouth.
“I want you to undress for me,” he said abruptly, catching you off guard.
You gawked up at him as you registered his request. Bucky just stood there, watching and waiting with his unwavering aim. Slowly, you began to do as he asked. Reluctantly stripping out of your sweatshirt, you held onto it tightly, refusing to let it fall completely. Bucky wrenched it out of your hands, letting it drop to the floor.
He motioned for you to stand and turn around for him, and you did. You went rigid as you felt his hand on your back, gently but sternly bending you over until you arched. You heard him purr as he set his gun down on your nightstand. His hands were hot and cold on your skin as he squeezed and spread your cheeks. You choked on a sob as you felt the cold metal fingers of his left-hand poke and prod at your tight ring.
“‘M gonna fuck your ass, sweetheart,” he husked, “But first,” he paused to haul you up by your neck, pressing your back against his chest, “You’re gonna suck my cock.”
He manhandled you until you were on all fours in front of him. You watched in horror as he undressed, unable to look away as he pulled his hard length out. Bucky grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you closer to him, tapping the tip of his hot, wet, cock against your tight lips. You trembled as he forced his way past your lips and into your mouth. You gagged as he reached the back of your throat.
Your hands slapped against his strong thighs as he fucked your mouth. His free hand wrapped around your throat as he roughly humped in and out of you, over and over.
“Fuck… That’s it, (Y/N),” he moaned, “You’re suckin’ me so good, doll.”
You spluttered as spit splattered across Bucky’s pelvis and dribbled down your chin. Your vision started to dot as he held your head still on his cock, burying himself deep down your throat. His breathing was uneven as he thrust himself as deep as your throat could take him. And just as you were about to pass out from the lack of oxygen, he pulled out and pushed you back down to your stomach. You clawed at the sheets and tried to squirm away from him, but he just pulled you right back down by your ankles.
He crawled over you, trapping you under his weight. You began to panic as you felt his spit-coated cock curled up against your ass. Bucky forced your knees apart as he raised your hips, placing a hand on your back to force you into an arch. He slapped your ass, once, then twice, each time making you yelp in pain. Using all of your strength you launched yourself forward from out under him and over the edge of the bed.
You scrambled to your feet and tried to reach the door, but immediately stopped as you heard the cocking of his gun. Bucky tsk-tsked you as he forced you back down onto your stomach.
He pressed the muzzle to your temple and sighed, “You do that again, doll, and I’m gonna go visit that sweet little old lady next door. Understand?”
You nodded.
“Tell me you understand, (Y/N), say ‘I understand, Bucky’,” he demanded.
“I–I understand, Bucky,” you sniffled.
You cried out as he cracked his metal hand across your ass, the pain shooting straight down in-between your legs. You were putty in his hands as he bent you to his desire, spreading your legs wide and arching your back to its limit. You let out a panicked cry as you felt him spread your cheeks and press the head of his swollen cock against your tight hole. You desperately clawed at the sheets, ripping them from their tucked corners as you tried to get away.
“No,” you shrilly cried as you felt the pressure of him entering you. You cried out into the mattress as he thrust into you. Bucky grunted with each snap of his hips. He adjusted his hold on you and began to rut faster, harder. Your teeth sink into your pillow, whimpering each time Bucky pounded into your ass.
The clapping of your skin against his duetted with your voices. His pleasured moans and your pained cries. Bucky’s hand wrapped around your hips and between your legs as he hammered into you. Your body was set alight as you felt him rub your clit, a wave of pleasure washing over you. You moaned as his fingers entered your wettening cunt. He rammed them in and out, as he matched the relentless tempo of his hips.
The line between pleasure and pain had been crossed as you moaned out. Bucky’s thumb rubbed firm and sinful patterns against your bundle of nerves as his fingers and cock thrust in and out of you in perfect synchrony. The coil deep within your belly threatened to snap with every flick of his wrist and every snap of his hips.
“Say my name,” he growls in your ear.
“Bucky,” you whine.
He rubs your clit faster, more erratically as he stokes your everburning fire, “Louder, sweetheart.”
“Bucky!” you cry out, moaning and whimpering until you finally come undone beneath him. Your body stiffens as you convulse uncontrollably. His hand never stops, rubbing your swollen clit until you burst; your wetness soaking his hand and your inner thighs. You cry out as he overstimulates your body, coaxing another squirting orgasm from you as he continues to pound into you as you lay fucked out beneath him. You feel him stiffen above you as he cries out your name, his warm release overflowing out of your ass and down the backs of your thighs.
Bucky pulls himself from your hole and gives your ass another firm slap. You cry into your pillow, ashamed at how your body had betrayed you--at how he so easily used your body. Through your sniffles and hiccups, you’re only vaguely aware of the shutter and flash of a camera behind you. Only fully realizing when he rolls you onto your back to take a polaroid photo of your post-orgasmed, tear-streaked face.
“This one’s for the books,” he panted, “Ready for our next shoot?”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*тαgℓιѕт*:・゚✧*:・゚✧: @hoosier-daddi, @kuranes-12
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dirtyhelen · 2 months ago
we will be together (in my mind you’re mine forever)
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Pairing: Dark!Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Rating: Explicit (18+)
Featuring: Dark A/B/O Dynamics; Dubious Consent; Oral Sex (F!Receiving); Vaginal Sex; Knotting; Creampie; Biting; Cum Marking; Light Breeding Kink; Your typical hallmarks of A/B/O fic + kidnapping
Words: 6015
Summary: Bucky knows your heat is the right time to bond you, the best chance of it taking, but he has to time it right. Right now your body is being flooded with hormones telling you to find an alpha, to get knotted and bred. He’s been laying the groundwork these past months, easing you off your suppressants and retraining you so that your heat can take care of the rest. Your stubborn will weakened by thousands of years of biology to finally accept him as your mate. 
It's your first heat since Bucky kidnapped you and took you to his den, and the perfect opportunity to make you his forever.
A/N:  Please mind the Featuring section! This is (my first!) dark!fic. I would categorize this as dark!fic-lite, but YMMV so take care, and see the end note for more details if you’re unsure 😊 Title from Mine Forever by Lord Huron.
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Bucky can smell it the moment he opens the door to the cabin. The thick, heady scent of heat rushes out and surrounds him immediately, your natural sweet peach turned overripe, full and heavy, ready to fall from the tree and begging to be eaten. He’s been expecting this for days now, noticing the gradual change in your scent and your listlessness—your body conserving energy, preparing itself for the coming days of frantic breeding—but even so, the reality of it is still overwhelming. That damn scent. It’s like a siren call, like a rope around his neck pulling him to you. A tighter leash than Hydra’d ever had on him. If you were still in that cramped little apartment in the city there’d be alphas circling your door like vultures, Bucky’s sure of it.  As it is, he’s glad for the miles and miles of wilderness between his den and the rest of the world.
He’s ready for this, has been preparing for weeks—months, really. Since the moment he saw you, scented you, sweeter than the apples you’d been putting in your bag at the market, even dulled by the suppressants you’d been taking. All the books and articles and papers he’d read said the first heat or rut after coming off suppressants is always strong, like the body is compensating for those lost opportunities to breed. And judging by the waves of scent drifting down the hall and hitting Bucky like a fucking tidal wave, they were right.
Bucky hasn’t been around an omega in heat in over seventy years, as far as he can remember, and his hindbrain threatens to take over with every lungful of your scent, urging him to soothe, knot, breed. But there’s no distress in your scent, no danger, so he forces himself to relax, reminding himself he has a job to do, a responsibility to take care of you, not just rut away at you like some green alpha pup who just popped his first knot. He takes measured steps across the short distance from the front door to the kitchen, setting down bags of groceries—electrolyte drinks and pre-chopped fruits and vegetables, all easily fed to an exhausted omega from the comfort of their nest—and puts them away, even as his cock starts to swell in his jeans and his own brown sugar scent turns heated and hungry. But he didn’t work all these months watching you, learning you, training you, to throw it all away so close to the finish line.
And it has been work. Hard days and long nights and sacrifices. There’d been the weeks of preparation, finding and arranging the perfect den all while trying to keep an eye on you, keep you safe from other alphas until Bucky could take you home. And that had been the easy part. It’s been months since Bucky took you to his den and he hasn’t so much as kissed you the entire time—and not for lack of wanting. He’s been too occupied getting you settled. Easing you off your suppressants and dealing with the mood swings and sickness. Helping you unlearn all those twisted beliefs ingrained in you about an omega’s place in the world. Teaching you about pack, about how a real alpha should behave.
He’s even maintained his own suppressants—the ones Hydra kept him on whenever he was in use—despite the way they make him feel stretched too tightly over his bones, his instincts dulled. But without a pack, it just wouldn’t be safe for both of you to go without them. The last thing you’re ready for right now is an enhanced alpha you still don’t fully trust to go into a super-strengthened rut, and neither of you is ready for pups.
There are so many things Bucky hates about modern society but the way they’ve turned away from packs has to be the worst. Packs are seen as old-fashioned now, in the way arranged marriages are old-fashioned; an understandable phenomenon, but one society has naturally outgrown for the betterment of all and should not look back on fondly. The alphas, beta, and omegas of today have no idea what a pack is, but Bucky can’t dwell on those frustrations right now.
Setting the last of the groceries in the fridge, he finally makes his way to the source of all that overwhelming sweetness, adjusting his cock in his jeans on the way. Months of sleeping chastely beside you, scenting you tenderly each morning and night, and stripping his cock raw in the shower are about to pay off. Bucky’s always understood the value of the long game, of lining up the perfect shot and waiting for the right moment to pull the trigger—and that moment has arrived.
Bucky unlocks the bedroom door with the key hanging on a string nailed to the doorframe—you’re so much better behaved now, but he still relies on the old precautions when he has to leave you—and he nearly knots in his fucking jeans at the sight that greets him.
You’re almost exactly where he’d left you, nestled among the pillows and blankets of your nest in the corner of the room—you’d insisted on sleeping in your nest the night before, tugging at Bucky’s arm when he’d tried to get you into bed, further evidence of your coming heat and what had prompted Bucky’s last-minute grocery run. When he’d left you this morning you were sleeping so deeply you hadn’t so much as twitched when he’d scented you. You’re not sleeping peacefully anymore. You’re on your side facing away from the door, completely naked, face pressed into one of the pillows from the now stripped-bare bed—and Bucky would lay money that it’s his pillow, that you’re instinctively seeking out the scent of your alpha. The other pillow is clutched between your thighs as you grind against it, a large, dark spot the evidence of your arousal as you keen, desperate for relief.
Bucky can’t help but growl at the sight and it alerts you to his presence; so lost in the first of your heat you hadn’t even noticed him opening the door. You turn your head, looking over your shoulder at him. “Alpha,” you gasp and Christ, but maybe that’s even nicer than the sight of your hungry cunt rocking against a pillow like it can give even close to what you need. It’s the first time you’ve said his designation that way—with awe and reverence, how Bucky’d always imagined when he was a pup. The way he’d seen in the movies, the way his dad said it to his ma. The closest he’d gotten from you ‘til now has been begrudging yes, alpha’s and no, alpha’s and only with a hard look from Bucky first.
There’s no hint of that defiance in you now as you immediately roll onto your belly and tug in your knees to present, legs spread wide on the cushions of the nest, your face turned so you can look at you’re alpha. Bucky feels his cock twitch at how your glossy cunt spreads open for him, slick dripping down your folds and onto your thighs in gossamer webs. The scent of it, earthy and heat-sweetened nearly knocks him down. He has to get his mouth on you.
Bucky steps into the nest, tugging off his shirt and socks as he goes, releasing his scent into the air, brown sugar and peach mixing into the scent Bucky can only think of as den, as home. He can see its effect on you in the way the arch of your back deepens, the way your knees spread even wider, the scent telling you alpha is here, urging you to make yourself as appealing as possible, an easy mount. He crawls up behind you and tugs your hips against his groin, pressing against you in a quick, dirty grind. You keen at it, begging, “Please, please, alpha.” Pushing back on him and darkening the front of his jeans with your slick.
“Shh, omega,” Bucky hushes you, pressing in over your bare back, turning your head to rub the scent glands at his neck along yours one side at a time as his wrists cover yours, the closeness and scent-marking soothing you slightly, taking away the tinge of panic that’s started to creep in the longer your alpha is near but doesn’t mount you. “That’s it, honey, that’s good,” he praises gently, easing you enough that he can get you on your back, and Jesus, that’s another sight.
All that flushed, glistening skin laid bare for him. His eyes trail a path from the swell of your breasts, down your belly—picturing them both swollen and full, nourishment and a home for his pups—to where you need him most. He knows your body is craving his knot and he’ll give it to you—oh, will he give it to you—but he wants something else first, something he’s been craving since that very first day.
You squirm under his focused attention. “Bucky, please.” There are fat tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, your sweet bottom lip trembling and it sets something burning in him, something dark and mean. All that desperation for him; pure, unbridled need, and maybe if you weren’t in heat he’d tease you with it. See if he could get those pretty tears to spill before he touched you. See if he could get you sobbing with it.
As it is, he’s got enough control to push that desire down to be examined another time. “I know, omega.” He adds a little rumble to his voice that has you melting into the nest as his hands spread your legs for him. “I know what you need and you’ll get it, promise, honey,” he says, pressing a kiss to your knee. He mouths his way down, scenting at the glands at the insides of your thighs as you gasp and moan. His mouth waters the closer he gets to the source of all that intoxicating scent.
Finally, he’s nosing into damp curls as his tongue presses flat against your hole, immediately coated in bittersweet slick. You keen at the contact, thighs flexing against Bucky’s grip where he holds you open. He laps at your pussy in long, wide licks, trying to get as much of that taste in his mouth as he can, wanting you in him like he’ll be in you. He lets the rumble build in his chest as he switches to flick at your clit and slides two fingers into you to quell that urge to be filled. The combination of it all has you mindless. Easy and boneless and garbling out nonsense that might be his name, or alpha, or please in between keening whimpers and moans.
Bucky curls his fingers as his tongue works at your clit and it’s only moments until you’re coming, slick squeezed from your cunt as it pulses around his fingers, dripping until his palm and wrist are soaked with it, and fuck, he can’t wait to feel that around his knot. “Yeah, that’s it,” he coos, teasing out the last aftershocks of your orgasm. Bucky looks up from between your thighs to see your eyes shut, mouth open as you pant. He kisses his way back up your body and licks into your open mouth. The first time he kisses you, and it’s with the slick of your cunt on his tongue, on his cheeks and chin and now on yours, too.
You kiss back lazily, pulling away after a moment to scent at his neck again, purring quietly. “Yeah, that’s better, huh?” he chuckles, and you nod, nuzzling into him. Bucky feels his heart clench, feels a lump in his throat at how nice it is. How good it feels to be sweet to you, to have you purring against his chest and smelling of safety and comfort, as well as heat and desire. He was so lost and lonely and afraid for so long. Since he left Steve (you’re my friend, I’m with you ‘til the end of the line) on the riverbank and fled DC. Since he fell from the train, or before that, strapped to a metal table (32557038, 32557…) and wanting his pack or wanting to hurry up and die.
So many months on the run, trying to figure out this strange new world, scribbling down the memories that burned through his broken brain like fever dreams, and packing up and running again whenever he caught wind of Steve, not ready yet to reckon with his last, failed mission despite the desperate longing in his gut that screamed pack every time he so much as thought of the man. The flashes of golden hair and fresh, clean beta-scent. Of fair skin under his lips, packmates fumbling through alpha-pup ruts turning into something more, something deeper. It was too much, too soon and he could only run from it.
And then you.
With that sweet peach scent that reminded him of those rare occasions his father could get his hands on fresh fruit; an image of him and Steve standing outside the kitchen as the smell of peach cobbler filled the apartment flashing up in his mind unbidden. He’d followed the scent to its source and there you were, giving the apple vendor a big bright smile and then you’d turned that smile on Bucky, standing there next to you like a dolt. And that was it; he knew.
And now here you are, safe and warm and denned and it’s just good in a way that almost hurts in its utter, overwhelming simplicity.
You’re content to curl up in his arms for a few more minutes but eventually you start to whine, hips shifting a little. You need more than a single orgasm and a couple of fingers tucked inside your cunt. You need Bucky’s knot, need to be fucked full of his seed, over and over until your body is satisfied, claimed. Bucky rumbles again and reaches down to undo his jeans. The moment you notice, your hands are fluttering down from his back and tugging at his waistband. His helpful little omega, he thinks, grinning at the look of concentration on your face as your clumsy hands fumble at his jeans.
“How ‘bout you present for me, omega?” he suggests instead and you nod eagerly, rolling over and getting into position next to him as Bucky finally works his legs out of his jeans and underwear—no easy feat while half-lying in a sea of pillows and blankets. “Good girl,” he praises you. “So good for me, such a good omega.” You are good for him, the perfect mate, despite the challenges he’s had with you. It’s not your fault you were brought up wrong and Bucky’s never held it against you, has always known there were good instincts beneath all that attitude and disobedience. He’s seeing them now, in the deep arch of your back, in the scent of pride in your scent when he compliments you. And now he finally gets to make you his.
Bucky settles behind you and wastes no time; his own instincts are screaming at him and he can’t ignore them any longer. He grips the base of his cock, knot just starting to plump, and slides into your cunt in one long thrust, immediately setting a furious pace, fucking into you fast and hard. His hands clutch at your hips, moving you with his body. You come in the first handful of thrusts and Bucky isn’t far behind. This first time won’t last long; the first fuck of a heat or rut never does, and Bucky wishes he could take his time and savour it, but he knows waiting for your heat was the right call. You have the rest of your lives to take your time with each other, and with the feeling of your pussy, wet and gripping his cock so tight, clenching around him in orgasm—he’s not sure he’d have been able to last even if your heat-scent wasn’t filling his lungs.
The room is filled with the slap of his thighs against yours, the filthy wet noise of his cock moving inside you, and your whimpers and gasps and moans as you take everything Bucky’s giving you.
It’s only a few more thrusts before his knot starts to catch, pulling at your opening each time he pulls out and forcing inside when he thrusts back in. Your voice grows even wilder, more desperate, as you feel his knot swell until finally Bucky comes, pushing in hard as his knot pops, locking him inside you and stretching your pussy wide as he fills you with cum. It’s heaven, bliss, so much better than he ever imagined—and he imagined a lot. You come again while he does, pulsing around his knot, your body milking his, your empty womb begging to be filled.
Breathing hard, Bucky presses close over your back, wrapping his arms around your body and rolling you both onto your sides to ride out the tie. He mouths at your scent gland, licking and sucking, unable to resist teasing with just the lightest drag of his teeth that has you shivering, cunt squeezing his knot. But he won’t bite you yet, despite his hindbrain urging him to claim you, mark you on the outside like his cum is marking you inside. He lets the sniper’s instincts win out over the alpha’s—play the long game, wait for the right moment.
He noses at the nape of your neck, presses kisses behind your ear and you wiggle back against him, purring again and providing sensation to his knot. No words are exchanged, just the silent communication of your scents pumping out smug brown sugar-peach into the air. You feel so good in his arms like this, all warm, bare skin pressed along the length of his body, as close as it’s possible to be. He can’t help but rock his hips a little, pulling out just enough to see how the thin skin of your cunt clings to him, stretched wide around the bulk of his knot. It doesn’t take long to grind both of you to another orgasm, even more slick and cum added to the mess inside you.
You’re nearly asleep by the time Bucky’s knot shrinks. He pulls out, shifting you gently onto your back to watch the mess drip from your pussy. Instinct guides him to reach down and slide his fingers through your folds, getting them wet with mingled slick and cum before rubbing it into the scent glands on your neck. You rouse a little, moaning lightly, your own instincts pleased at the way your alpha marks you with his scent. Bucky repeats the process on your inner thighs and then over your cunt, lazily circling your clit to another shuddering orgasm.
He presses those fingers to your lips after, and you open automatically, sucking off the taste and fuck, he wants to get those lips around his cock. He wants to keep you like this forever. Easy and eager and docile for him. You’re drifting again, eyes shut and breath evening out as you doze. Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead and tugs a thin blanket over you before leaving the nest.
“I’m gonna bring you some food, honey. Be back in a minute,” he tells you, though he doubts you’re aware enough right now to even hear it.
He leaves the bedroom door open and tries to prepare a plate as quickly as possible, uneasy to leave you alone for even a few minutes. Once again he wishes he had a pack. Omegas aren’t supposed to be left alone during a heat, despite what modern society seems to think. If this were Bucky’s day, even a bonded omega would have at least two heat-partners so they would never be alone, never left wanting. Now everyone is so obsessed with independence, individuality. They’ve abandoned community but they call it liberation.
Bucky is just grateful for the serum. If he were a normal alpha he’d have a hard time keeping up with you. Modern alphas, he’s learned, usually have to rely on medications or toys just to get their omegas through their heats. Or suppressants, of course, which seems to be given out like candy.
The future’s not all bad though, Bucky has to admit, as he prepares a plate for you. He remembers crowding into their tiny kitchen with Steve and Becca as pups, making watery broth out of whatever vegetables they could get their hands on during his dad’s heats. Remembers how Sarah would take extra shifts before his mother’s ruts so they could afford a few decent cuts of meat. A plate piled high with fresh fruit, and no scrimping or saving to get them, is a luxury Bucky could only have dreamed of as a pup.
He notices the change in your scent just as he’s putting the last of the containers back into the fridge. Calm and content soured by fear and confusion. He picks up the platter of food and hurries back to the bedroom.
You’re shivering, curled on your side with your knees pulled to your chest. Bucky sets the plate on the floor and climbs into the nest again. He kneels at your side, reaches down to rub his wrist against your neck but you flinch away, the frightened-peach scent spiking. “Shh, shh,” he hushes you. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“This is wrong. I-I—I don’t want this. I—” you speak the words to your knees, haltingly, like it’s a struggle to get them out, your eyes screwed shut tight.
It’s not uncommon for omegas to experience anxiety and distress during a heat, Bucky knows. Hormones are running wild, emotions are heightened, and the overwhelming desire to be bred makes them especially vulnerable.
Bucky immediately starts up a strong rumble and tries to forcefully put out a calming scent to counter your bitter unhappiness. He can see you fighting it, shrinking into yourself, his stubborn little omega, but the effect on you is almost instant. Your eyes open, glossy and lidded, as the rumble empties your mind and Bucky’s scent fills it up with warm safety and comfort.
He pulls you into his lap, pressing your head to his chest. You’re no longer on the edge of panic, but your scent is still tinged with fear and confusion—your mind fighting the needs of your body, your natural desires, and twisting you up inside as you struggle to reconcile them both. It’s what Bucky’s spent the last several months trying to help you untangle, and he’s proud that these moments are getting fewer and farther between as he teaches you to take pride in your nature, to embrace your instincts. He’s not surprised you’d have another moment of struggle now, though.
He speaks in low, soothing tones as takes your wrists one at a time and presses them to the scent glands in his neck, spreading his safe-comfort brown sugar scent. “I’m here, you’re safe, omega. You’re in your nest, in our den, and you’re safe. Alpha is here. We’re both safe.”
You squirm a little, brow furrowing. Your mouth opens twice before you manage to get out any words against the weight of Bucky’s rumble and scent. “I’m not safe. I don’t want this.” You speak slowly, forcefully, even as you nuzzle your cheek against his chest.
He shakes his head at you for the millionth time, he’s sure. So stubborn, his little omega. Hurting no one more than yourself and thinking it’s strength. “You don’t have to fight so hard, honey. It’s okay to listen to your body. It’s okay to like it.” He slides a hand between your thighs where you’re still dripping slick, despite your protests. “And it’s pretty clear you liked it, omega.”
You whine and Bucky can see tears forming in your eyes but you don’t speak again. He’s had this conversation with you before, so many times, but it gets shorter every time as your ability to argue weakens, as you learn to accept what you are. Who you belong to, who you belong with. How many times have you snarled and spat and fought only to end up curled against Bucky’s chest, clinging to him as you cried? The picture of a difficult omega who just needs the right alpha. Back in Bucky’s day, you would’ve ended up starving on the streets, or worse. Or committed to an Omega Asylum, a ward of the state until some half-rate alpha who couldn’t get an omega on their own agreed to take you in—to bond you or beat you into submission.
Bucky’d always hated those alphas and their lazy, weak excuses. His ma always told him—and Steve and Becca, betas needed to take care, too—that an alpha who could only keep their mate in line with their fists didn’t deserve to have a mate at all. That a real alpha knows there’s no such thing as too much work for the right omega; no omega so difficult they can’t be tamed by the right alpha.
And the proof of it is curled against Bucky’s chest. Not tamed yet, not completely, but almost there, and without a single hand raised to you in anger to get you there.
Bucky reaches for the plate of food and feeds you and himself until the plate is empty, your mouth opening sweetly for each portion of fruit he places at your lips, speaking soothing sweet nothings until you’re boneless against his chest, eyes closed and nearly asleep, all bitterness gone from your scent. He lays you down, pulling you back against his front and tugs at pillows and blankets until you’re completely surrounded, safe and warm, your mingled peach and brown sugar scents filling every breath.
The next two days are a blur of fucking and feeding and resting. Bucky sleeps when you do and wakes to your hips grinding back into his or your lips mouthing along his neck, his sweet omega trying to gently ease him away to take care of her.
There are brief moments of struggle, usually shortly after a knotting when the heat-haze is lightest, but he manages to keep you easy and sweet for him so long as he stays by your side, rumbling and soothing when your scent starts to turn. Distracting you with food or pleasure; your base urges overpowering everything else.
He's managed not to bite you yet, though it hasn’t been easy. The day before he’d coaxed you gently into riding him—and hadn’t that been a sight: your tits bouncing as you moved on his cock, fingernails digging divots into the sweat-slick skin of his chest as you scrabbled for purchase, shameless and desperately chasing your own pleasure, all nerves and insecurity swept away by your alpha’s praise. You’d tired quickly, leaning down against Bucky’s chest and licking at his scent glands as you rolled your lips in clumsy circles. It had your neck perfectly placed for him to sink his teeth into your own scent glands. He’d had to hold himself back with all his will, reminding himself of the consequences of a failed bond. Your orgasm had been a good distraction, at least. The squeeze of your cunt urging him toward his own climax. He’d flipped your positions with a growl, furiously thrusting into your wet heat until his knot popped, starting the feed-rest-fuck cycle over again, getting ever closer to the finish line.
Bucky knows your heat is the right time to bond you, the best chance of it taking, but he has to time it right. Right now your body is being flooded with hormones telling you to find an alpha, to get knotted and bred. He’s been laying the groundwork these past months, easing you off your suppressants and retraining you so that your heat can take care of the rest. Your stubborn will weakened by thousands of years of biology to finally accept him as your mate.
After days wrapped around his knot, his scent and hormones soaking your insides and smoothed into your skin, his praise and comfort and support, giving you everything your body needs, showing his worth as a mate—any omega would be hard-pressed to resist a bonding bite after all that. There’s a reason heats are supposed to be spent with trusted packmates. A heat-frenzied omega might go off with any alpha in that state, might bond and be tied to them until death.
But if the bond does fail, Bucky will have to start practically from scratch. A failed bonding bite will tell your body he’s not a worthy alpha and he’ll have to build your trust all over again. So he knows his best chance is to ride out your heat as long as possible and make sure you’re satisfied in every way the entire time.
By the fourth day, the heat-scent is dissipating. Still sweet and alluring, but not so heavy and thick it overwhelms everything else. Bucky’s actually managed to wake before you for once—another sign that your heat is nearly finished—and he takes the brief respite to enjoy the chaste sweetness of your sleeping body on his chest. Your cheek is pressed up against his heartbeat and your legs are tangled with his. He can feel the damp heat of your cunt against his hip and his cock hardens in response but there’s no immediacy to it, the arousal is just warm and easy.
Early morning sunlight filters through the gap in the curtains, catching dust motes in the air and casting the room in a clean, bright glow. The room itself is a mess of pillows and blankets and Bucky’s own clothing, items discarded and replaced by some internal omega logic of yours as the days passed. Your voice, imperious and precise as you’d ordered Bucky around the room to fetch this pillow or that shirt, then painstakingly arranging them in the nest.
Bucky tightens his arms around you and presses a kiss to your head, breathing in the scent of your hair. Something about the peace of this moment has a part of him locking into place that had felt unmoored before now. An image pops into his head—you and him, just like this. Your pups safe and sleeping in the other room. It’s a fantasy and promise and the certainty of it fills him up with a feeling of safety and strength like he hasn’t known since he was a little kid in Brooklyn, surrounded by his pack and knowing nothing of pain or war or death.
He feels your head shift on his chest and looks down to find you looking back at him. The expression on your face is soft and open, made all the more meaningful for the clarity in your eyes, bright and alert.
“Good morning,” he says, so softly it’s almost silent.
“Good morning.” You shift so you’re held above him a little, palms pressed to his chest. Bucky sees a handful of undiscernible emotions play across your face as you look down at him, eyes sweeping over his own face. You lean your head down in a stuttering motion and pause with your lips just an inch from his. Your scent is steady and clear; no bitter, all sweet, and you close the gap, slotting your mouth against Bucky’s in the softest, gentlest kiss you’ve shared yet.
In a matter of wordless, unhurried moments Bucky is rocking into you slow and lazy and deep, nestled close in the cradle of your hips. Your chests are pressed close, hardly any room between you at all, with his forearms bracketing your head, fingers interlocked above you. There’s a scant inch or two between his mouth and yours, close enough he can lean in and kiss you just by tilting his chin.
“So good, omega.” Soft praise falls from Bucky’s lips like the breath forced from his lungs. “You feel so good. Gonna fill you up, huh?” He shudders out of a moan at how you tighten around him at that.
“Alpha,” you gasp. “Want your knot—need it.”
“Fuck.” Bucky’s thrusts pick up speed and you keen, legs tightening around him as you mouth at his neck. “Gonna give you my knot, omega, give you my pups. Gonna be so pretty with your belly all full of me, honey.” It’s all fantasy for now, but he sees it so clearly, crystalized in his mind—your body rounded and heavy—and the way your scent spikes, flooding the air with arousal and desire tells him you see it, too. Tells him it’s time.
Bucky’d always imagined the moment he bonded you as some passionate, frantic moment. Pictured you on your knees in presentation for him as he thrust away behind you, like the first time, hard and fast, fingers gripping your hips as his teeth gripped your neck. But as he fits his mouth to your neck, kisses and licks his way to your scent gland as the two of you continue to rock together in a smooth rhythm, pressed together face-to-face, he thinks this is so much better and no less passionate.
He nips as your skin a couple times in warning, curious to see how you’ll respond—he’s only gotten so close as dragging his teeth along the spot so far, nothing approaching a bite—and you tilt your head back for him, moan out, “Alpha.” No defiance or fear or anything in your scent except safety and want and trust.
Bucky’s teeth pierce the tender skin of your neck and his cock thrusts deep, knot popping as he comes instantly, all white-hot sensation, bright and raw and endless. You gasp and he feels your cunt clenching around him in tight, squeezing waves. There aren’t words for the way he feels. Everything he’s ever heard or read or imagined couldn’t have prepared him for the all-consuming, overwhelming closeness and trust and love and affection—everything—he feels for you in this moment. He can only imagine your own emotions with the last of your heat still burning through your body.
He practically collapses on top of you in the aftermath, pressing his mouth to yours in a messy, bloody kiss, pulling away to lick at the bite, sending waves of bonded brown sugar-peach into the air.
“Mine, mine, mine,” he growls it into your throat as he grinds his knot inside you, the pleasure almost too much, an endless wave of sensation as his cum fills you up.
“Yours, alpha.” You’re trembling, tears spilling down your cheeks and Bucky licks them up—he wants all of you now, he has all of you, everything, always. “I’m yours,” you breathe, repeating it softly.
By the time Bucky’s heart rate has slowed and he’s regained control of his body you’re nearly asleep, exhausted and sated, the last of your heat-scent drifting away. You’ll sleep for most of the day now, recovering your strength. He wraps his arms around you and carefully turns so you’re resting on top of him, still tied at his knot for a long while yet.
With the certainty of his claim on you and the safety of having you in his arms, Bucky just enjoys the closeness, nosing into your hair and taking in your bonded scent. You nuzzle into him even in your sleep, a purr building in your chest. For the first time in far, far too long, Bucky feels true, unwavering happiness. And he knows with sudden, perfect, certainty that he’s ready for the next step for him and his omega. The next step to having everything he’s always wanted; everything he’s determined he’ll finally have now that he’s free.
It’s time to find Steve—or maybe finally let Steve find him—and be a pack again. It’s time to go home.
A/N: If you’re familiar with dark!fic I don’t think there’s anything in here that’ll shock you, but if you’re not: the concept is Bucky has kidnapped the Reader and Stockholm-Syndromed her into relative compliance with his own in-world old-fashioned preferences, plus the dubious consent inherent to how I’ve chosen to depict heats in this fic. I’ve labelled this dubious consent bc that’s a thing that exists in the fanfiction world, but obviously this would all be straight rape/non-con IRL, so read at your own risk. There’s no physical violence, but there is a brief moment where the Reader verbally expresses discomfort with what’s happening and Bucky basically gaslights her, plus mentions of him “retraining” her during her captivity.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed my first (completed, anyway) foray into dark!fic 😊
Modern views on packs inspiration from here and here!
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buckys-bug-archive · 3 months ago
their angel — three
all good things must come to an end
summary: steve and bucky undo all of your progress and you spiral
warnings: smut (noncon, unprotected sex, overstimulation, somnophilia), violence, abuse, reader gets badly injured, descriptions of blood, use of sleeping pills, descriptions of nightmares, bad mental health, not eating, stockholm syndrome, meltdowns and panic attacks, under 18s dni
w/c: 4.1k (i am so sorry loool)
note: i went reaaaal dark with this one (it rlly wasn’t intended but it’s the direction that my brain took me😳) please lmk what you think and leave feedback, it’s greatly appreciated!!
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The next few days go smoothly - Bucky and Steve are convinced that they’ve done all they need to. They’re convinced that you’re their perfect little girl.
You’re not.
You despise them, it makes you feel sick just to be in their company - to cuddle and kiss them the way that you do. To sleep with them at night. To let them bathe and clothe and feed you like a child.
What makes you even more sick is that there’s a part of you that enjoys it; and that part of you isn’t very small either.
They’ve convinced you that they can be caring and affectionate, pampering you at every given opportunity and showering you with love.
But this illusion that they’ve been playing into all comes crashing down now that they’ve deemed you ready.
Ready to please them.
You know something’s afoot when Bucky puts you to bed instead of Steve. Bucky never wants to be the one you fall asleep next to, and frankly, you don’t want him either. You only want Steve for bedtimes.
“He’s busy, baby. So you have me for tonight.” You sniffle, turning your back on Bucky and refusing to speak to him.
“Wan’ Daddy!” Your speech is slurred with how little you are - you’ve let your littlespace consume you, Steve and Bucky’s affection only sending you hurtling further towards that headspace every day.
“Daddy’s not here. You can either have me, or you’re by yourself.” His voice is stern, a hint of almost anxiety behind it that makes your stomach turn inside out. You huff, laying down and curling your knees up to your chest defensively. You’re smarter than they think and you know something’s coming.
You soon drift off into a dreamless sleep.
Only to be awoken in the middle of the night to a hand down your panties and the soft grazing of a beard across your inner thighs. You grumble incoherently, swatting at the hands encroaching on your space, not realising the severity of the situation as sleep holds you tight.
A finger grazes your clit and you jolt forwards, unconsciously bucking your hips into Steve’s hand as Bucky presses kisses across your sensitive skin, now red and raw with beard burn.
“Hngh, no…” you mumble sleepily, kicking your legs feebly in an attempt to release their hold on you. A tongue licks a long strip across your cunt and you whine, chasing the feeling in your unconscious state. Bucky’s fingers tweak your nipples from under your shirt and you arch into his touch, moaning softly.
“Shh.” The sound is quiet and soothing, and you let yourself sink back into the firm grip of sleep, your breath evening out as Steve and Bucky continue their evil ministrations on you.
You’re awoken once again about an hour later, and they’re still toying with your body, so responsive even when you’re not conscious. Your pussy is filled to the brim with their spend, the thick, white seed leaking out of you and onto the bed. Your clit is raw from overstimulation and to your horror, Bucky is buried to the hilt inside of you, fucking his and Steve’s cum back into your poor, abused pussy. He thrusts in harshly as your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts in horror.
“Stop, stop!” you shout groggily, attempting to turn your body away from him. He holds you tightly to the bed; his strong arms don’t allow you to move even a fraction of an inch.
“It’s too late for that now, dollface.” he croons, a sickly sweet smile on his face as he ruts into you almost painfully.
“Hurts, stop it!” you scream and a hand immediately clamps over your mouth; Steve stares down at you, his eyes blown wide with lust as his gaze rakes over your writhing body, clad in only a thin t shirt and shorts that have been forced down and bunched around your ankles. Tears spill from your eyes and pool around Steve’s hand that’s still firmly clasped over your mouth.
After what feels like hours of pain as Bucky thrusts in and out of you at a punishing pace, his hips finally stutter and he moans into your neck, his spend coating your insides and immediately beginning to leak back out as the throbbing between your legs intensifies. He pulls out, rolling to the side and humming in satisfaction. You sob silently into your hands and Steve pulls you into his arms; you don’t sink into his embrace as you usually do, instead withering away from him and sobbing harder.
“Get off.” you cry, batting at his hands feebly, your body drained and weak from their torture.
“Shh, baby. You’re okay.”
“W-why would you do th-that?” you hiccup, collapsing in on yourself, your entire body trembling and muscles on fire.
“We had to.”
“Liar.” you sniffle, tears staining your cheeks and your eyes becoming red and puffy. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“I do. You’re s-sick. You ruined m-my life.” Stuttering, you push yourself up from the bed only to topple over immediately, your legs too weak to carry you after the men’s abuse on your body. Steve rushes to your aid but a strangled protest erupts from your lips, stopping him in his tracks.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Baby, ‘m not gonna hurt you.”
“But you jus’ did.” you whimper, knees automatically curling into your chest defensively and a hand out to shield yourself from him.
“Don’t. I jus’ wanna be by myself.” You stand agonisingly slowly, staggering out of the room and down the stairs. Steve lets you go. Just for tonight. It’s fair, we hurt her.
You lay yourself down on the couch, shivering in the cold night air, and curl up into a ball. Trying desperately to get comfortable, you close your eyes and will sleep to come your way, but it doesn’t. And you know it won’t anytime soon. You spend the majority of the night crying, a hand over your mouth in an attempt to quiet your sobs until you fall into a fitful sleep in the early hours of the morning.
Steve’s heart breaks in the morning when he finds you asleep on the couch, body contorted unnaturally to try and relieve some of the pain between your legs. You’re shivering in your sleep, goosebumps raised all over your body and your head’s tucked into the crook of your elbow, hiding your face from his eyes.
He crouches next to you, stroking your face gently and shaking your shoulders.
“Angel, wake up. C’mon, it’s time to get up.”
You groan, turning away from him and whining as the throbbing in your body flares up again.
“Go away. ‘M tired.”
“You need to get up, sweetheart.” His hand reaches out for you and you wither away from his touch, a strangled whimper sounding from the base of your throat.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Don’t be rude.”
“Asshole.” you mutter under your breath and Steve freezes.
“What did you just say?” His voice is dark and full of fury and a lump begins to rise in your throat. He lifts you from the couch and you scream, pummelling your fists into his broad chest. “You broke a rule, angel. Little girls don’t say naughty words.”
“‘M not a little girl! I want to go home.” you sob, thrashing in his iron grip. He carries you back up the stairs, throwing you onto the bed forcefully and calling for Bucky.
“Buck! Need you in here.”
“No!” you cry, scrambling off of the bed and cowering underneath it. Bucky saunters in, looking far too pleased with himself and crouches down, tilting his head questioningly at you.
“She broke a rule. So she needs a punishment.” Steve explains; Bucky chuckles darkly as panic sets in deep in your bones, your whole body beginning to tremble.
“What did she do?”
“Called me an asshole.”
“You naughty girl. Why would you do that?” You shuffle further away and Bucky tuts, grabbing you by the ankle and hauling you out from your hiding place.
Your head smashes against the bedpost on the way out and a crack resounds around the room, your vision beginning to blur and tunnel as pain courses through your entire body. Bucky freezes, his blood running cold as you let out a choked scream on contact.
“Oh, shit.” Bucky pulls you into his lap and examines your head as blood begins to flow heavily out of the wound. “Fuck!”
You whine, eyes becoming heavy as the pain in your head renders you incoherent. Steve crouches down and slaps your face gently in an attempt to keep you awake.
“You can’t let her go to sleep. If she falls asleep with a concussion, she could die.”
“We have to take her to a hospital, Buck.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Do you want her to fucking die?” he scolds, lifting you out of Bucky’s lap and carrying you towards the door.
“Steve, we can’t!”
“We have to! You cracked her head open, she needs stitches!”
He hurtles out of the house with you in his arms, Bucky hot on his heels. Steve thrusts you into Bucky’s arms and pushes him towards the backseat, jumping into the driver’s seat and speeding off.
“Do not let her fall asleep.” he instructs as Bucky lays you over his lap, a hand to your head in an attempt to stop the profuse bleeding.
“Ngh. Ow.” you whine, leaning into Bucky as you struggle to keep conscious. Steve runs every red light on his way to the hospital, his heart pounding in his chest as he goes into panic mode. He parks haphazardly in the first vacant spot he comes across and hauls Bucky out of the backseat, scooping you up in his arms and running towards the entrance of the hospital.
“Steve, calm down!” Bucky yells, although his stomach is churning from all the blood and he’s more worried about you than he’d care to admit.
“Shut up.”
He hurtles through the door and towards the first doctor he can find.
“Help, please! My girlfriend hit her head and I think she’s cracked it open.” The concerned boyfriend ruse is very convincing and the doctor immediately rushes to your aid, directing Steve to a hospital bed to lay you in and wheeling you off to a separate room.
Steve and Bucky are directed to a waiting room; they pace up and down frantically as they wait for the okay to see you.
After around an hour, they’re called by a doctor and taken to you. You’re sitting up on the bed, eyes cast down to your lap as you fiddle with your fingers nervously. Bucky’s hand closes around your arm tightly as soon as you’re left alone, his lips pulled back and teeth bared in a growl.
“What did you say to the doctor?”
“I- I didn’t say anything bad. I swear! I just told him that I fell and hit my head.” you whimper, hissing as his fingernails dig into the soft flesh of your arm. “Stop! That hurts.”
“If I find out that you’ve done something, I’ll kill you.” His speech is inaudible to everybody but you, and you know that he’ll make good on his promise if you step out of line.
“Don’t you think if I was going to tell, I already would have?” you mumble quietly, avoiding his gaze as Steve begins to examine the stitches in your head.
“Ow, stop.” You swat at Steve’s hands and move out of his reach, shuffling further up the bed.
“Sorry, baby. Just wanted to make sure you were alright. What did they say?”
“They gave me 4 stitches in my head and said that I have a minor concussion. But I’ll be fine, just hurts.”
“Okay, let’s get home then.” He scoops you back up into his arms and begins to carry you out of the room, followed by Bucky.
“They haven’t discharged me yet. You have to wait until they say I can go.”
“I don’t care.” Bucky snarls. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”
“I know, but we have to wait for the doctor to come back.” you reason with him quietly, doing your best to come across as non-confrontational and diplomatic.
“Fine.” His teeth clench so hard that you think his jaw might actually break as Steve sets you back down on the bed, sitting next to you before pulling you onto his lap. His hand rests on your thigh and you fiddle with his fingers as he traces patterns across your shoulder with his other hand.
“You still need a punishment when we get home.” Bucky murmurs quietly, his face like thunder as he glares daggers at you.
“Is this not punishment enough?” Steve argues back. “You cracked her head open!”
“And I didn’t say anything. I’ve been good.” you promise him, cowering away from his heated gaze and sinking into Steve’s chest.
“Whatever.” Bucky sulks in the corner like a child, riddled with guilt although he’ll never apologise for his actions.
Eventually, he gets bored of sulking and sidles up next to you and Steve, lifting your legs and draping them over his lap. You visibly tense at his touch, still very upset about the night’s events.
“Chill out.” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles up and down your legs in an attempt to calm you. “You okay?” he asks after; that’s the closest that you’ll get to an apology so you take it.
“Mhm.” The last thing you want to do is anger him with your blunt responses, but frankly, you’re too tired to deal with his cruelty right now and the last thing you feel like doing is speaking to either of the men with you. They exchange a worried glance, knowing that they’ve undone all of the progress you’ve made whilst being with them.
The doctor returns around 20 minutes later with a bottle of painkillers in his hand.
“She’ll be just fine.” he reassures Steve, patting your knee comfortingly. “She just needs to take these painkillers twice a day for the next week and then come back to have the stitches removed. Keep the stitches covered and dry until you bring her back and try not to put pressure on them, so try to sleep on your front. Wash your hair when you get home to get the blood out and then don’t wash it again until the stitches are out.”
“Okay, I can do that.” you mumble, lacing your fingers with Steve’s as the doctor speaks.
“Good. That’s for you.” He hands you the bottle of pills and a form. “Just sign there and I can let you go home.”
He hands you a pen and you scribble your signature at the bottom of the paper, handing it back and thanking him quietly. Steve insists on carrying you to the car even though you know that you can walk. He slides you into the backseat next to Bucky and Bucky wraps his arm around you, holding you to his side; no matter how much you squirm, you can’t release yourself from his hold.
Steve parks the car and Bucky carries you into the house, setting you back down on the couch. You don’t say a single word, staring vacantly at the wall in front of you and refusing to look at either of them.
“Honey.” Steve calls gently, waving a hand in front of your face to get your attention. Your eyes flit momentarily to meet his before you look away again, paying no mind to his words. Tears well in your eyes and you turn away from him, refusing to listen to anything he has to say.
“Baby. I’m so sorry.” he coos, reaching his hand out to stroke your leg. You jerk away from his touch and whisper brokenly.
“No you’re not.” Your voice is thick with anguish and a tear drips down your cheek. You wipe it away with the back of your hand, sniffling quietly. He continues to apologise profusely, but you refuse to even make eye contact with him.
“You don’t love me.” you begin to sob softly into your hands, cradling your knees to your chest as your body shakes. “You- you just wanna control me ‘nd h-hurt me.”
“I do love you, sweet girl. Why do you think we chose you?”
“I dunno. You prob’ly just like makin’ me cry.” Bucky laughs from the other side of the room, stalking over to you menacingly. You shrink away from him, whining anxiously as he advances on you.
“We do love you. We’re only doing what’s best for you.” he murmurs quietly, his voice dripping with guilt.
“Was giving me a concussion what’s best for me?”
“That was an accident.”
“You didn’t even say sorry!” you cry. “You were only scared that you’d get caught if you killed me.”
“That's not true. And I am sorry, okay? I’m so sorry that I hurt you, I didn’t mean to. Let us make it up to you.” He reaches out for you and you let him pull you into his lap and cradle you in his arms. You sob into his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears as you heave for air.
“Shh, doll. You’re alright.” Bucky coos, the guilt gnawing away at him as he sees what he’s done to you - what he’s reduced you to.
“Dada…” you whimper, clinging to him as your little mindset takes over, desperately trying to relieve the anxiety wracking your body.
“Shh, I’ve got you, baby girl.”
“So sad… ‘m so sad, Dada.” you mumble tearily, balling a handful of his shirt in your fist and wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Oh, baby. Let’s get the crud out of your hair and then get you to bed. You’ve had a rough day.” He lifts you into his arms, the gentleness a surprising contrast to his usual coarseness towards you.
He strips you of your clothes and stands you in the shower, removing his own clothes as well and getting in with you.
The warm water cascades down your back and Bucky presses his chest against you, running his hands through your hair carefully, avoiding the stitches. He lathers shampoo into your hair to rid it of the dried blood from your wound before massaging the rest of your body gently and cleaning you before hastily washing himself and rinsing both of you off.
He turns the water off and you shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin. Lifting you out of the shower, he wraps you in a towel and carries you back to the bedroom, drying you off cautiously before slipping you into the warmest pyjamas in your wardrobe.
“There ya go, sweet love.” he coos, tucking you under the covers and sliding in next to you.
“Please don’t touch me a-again. Can’t sleep if you do it.” you whimper, curling into a ball and already bracing yourself for another night of torture.
“Not tonight, bubba. You need to rest. Daddy’s gonna bring you a glass of water to help you sleep and we’re gonna get you feeling better, alright?”
“M’kay, Dada.”
Steve enters the room as if on cue, handing you a glass of water and praising you when you down the whole thing in two big gulps. The drugs take effect immediately and your eyes droop as exhaustion takes over your body. You grab Steve’s hand as he begins to walk away, trying to tug him into the bed.
“Alright, angel. ‘M here.” Steve slips under the covers and lays you on top of him, wrapping you in blankets to keep you from shivering. You plant your face into his neck, letting his warmth seep into you and lull you into a peaceful sleep. Soon enough, you’re snoring against his skin, your hold on him never loosening even in unconsciousness.
The next few days are spent with Bucky and Steve doing everything they can to gain your trust back. They let you watch cartoons for as long as you like, read you stories, play with you and cuddle you whenever you need the comfort and close contact.
Bucky’s hostile behaviour completely dissipates and he begins to take care of you as much as he can, earning your trust back bit by bit and learning to love you as much as Steve does.
Nightmares have become frequent for you since the accident, and Steve and Bucky often have to wake you during the night as you scream and cry, unable to shake the terrors from your mind. They cradle you in their arms as you sob, your chest heaving as you cough violently, tears pouring down your cheeks.
“‘M so tired.” you mumble once the tears subside, clinging to them like your lifeline. “Wan’ them to stop.”
“I know.” Steve shushes you gently, laying you back down as you attempt to switch your brain off and fall back into sleep. Of course, that’s easier said than done, and no matter how hard you try, your thoughts race and it’s impossible to calm your nerves.
Bucky notices immediately, all of the signals from his own nightmares showing in you, and he sidles up next to you, tucking you into his side and massaging your shoulders and back to try to relieve some of the tension in your muscles. You melt into his touch and moan in relief as he works out the knots in your muscles, pressing yourself further into him. It’s the only thing that can put you back to sleep after a nightmare now. You need Bucky. And he knows it.
You sleep more during the day than you did before. It’s the only time you can get some rest without being plagued by terrors. You don’t enjoy playing as much as you used to since the nightmares started. They’re all you think about and it’s ruining you.
You become clingy, wanting to be attached to one of your daddies at all times; and when you’re not, it causes serious meltdowns. You scream until your throat is raw and cry until you feel numb, needing to have one of them with you. That need is overwhelming and it eats you alive, anxiety and fear running rampant through your body when you don’t have one of them to distract you from yourself.
If they leave you alone for too long you become vacant and unresponsive, too caught up in your own head to respond to anything they have to say. They’ve broken you.
And so they devise a plan so that one of them can be with you at all times. But you don’t get better.
“She needs help, Buck.” Steve whispers as you sleep on his chest, the guilt gnawing at him becoming too much as he sees what they’ve done to you. Deep, purple bags have appeared under your eyes and you look gaunt and permanently tired. Your body trembles for every moment you’re awake and you’re always cold, needing one of the soldiers to huddle against to seep up the warmth that radiates off of them.
“I know. But what do we say? We can’t get her help without us getting caught.”
“Does Banner have anything at the compound? Something we can give her to calm her down?”
“Maybe… but even if he does, we can’t ask for that! They’ll ask questions.” Bucky murmurs, tapping his feet nervously as they talk.
“I can get her something.” Steve says. “I’ll be in and out and no one will even see me. You just stay here with her tomorrow.”
“Are you sure? It’s risky.”
“She needs something, look at her! She might as well be dying.” Steve mutters angrily. Your eyes flutter open as Steve and Bucky’s bickering rouses you from your slumber and you groan softly, burying your face into Steve’s chest.
“Hey, bubba. How you feeling?” Bucky asks quietly, rubbing circles into your back.
“‘M okay. Feel a bit better.” you smile half heartedly at him and push yourself up from your place on Steve’s chest, your now frail arms trembling under your own weight. You crawl into Bucky’s waiting embrace, humming in appreciation as he holds you close to his chest and begins to rock you back and forth.
“Love you.” you whisper against him and he smiles softly.
“We love you too, angel.” Kissing your head, he pushes your hair out of your face and traces his thumbs across your cheekbones gently. “You hungry? I’ll make you some mac and cheese.”
“Not really, Dada.”
“Doll, you’ve barely eaten anything lately. I’m worried about you.”
“‘M just not hungry.”
“Is it makin’ you feel sick? To eat?”
“Yeah. Makes me feel icky.”
“Oh, honey.” Steve murmurs sympathetically, peppering kisses along your jaw and cheek. “We’re gonna get you better, alright?”
“Okay, Daddy.” you murmur as your eyes flutter shut again and your breathing evens out against Bucky’s skin.
They have a plan. They need their baby back, and they’ll do anything to get you - to save you from yourself.
1K notes · View notes
cherienymphe · 5 months ago
Twice Mine (Stucky x Reader)
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WARNINGS: DUB-CON, mentions of NON-CON, vampire!Stucky, jealous!Stucky, violence, toxic relationships, murder, animal cruelty, bloodplay
➥ this is the much anticipated final part to Twice Bitten and Twice Burned
     I had a lot of fun with this series, and I hope you guys enjoy!
➥ divider by @firefly-graphics​
     ➥ Italics = things that have already happened
      ➥ Non italics = present day​
summary: King Steve has the reputation of the kindest king in all the land. How sad it is that such a man always seems to be burying a wife, leaving him lonely and searching for another. Seeing how Queen Margaret’s death affected you, the king hopes to raise your spirits by marrying you off to the handsome Duke, James Barnes, unbeknownst to you, sealing your fate.
The large living room was alight with the glow of the fire, the flames the only source of light in the entire room. The mansion was quiet, as it tended to be, but for the past week or so, it was a different kind of quiet. A heavy silence that was almost suffocating had descended over the place. You barely turned your head to the side, swallowing down a sigh.
You felt him before you heard him, a strong concern that didn’t belong to you taking up residence in your heart beside your own. You pressed your hand to your chest, the weight within it increasing as the sound of his footsteps reached your ears. His large hands soon found a place on your shoulders, fingers kneading into your bare flesh in what was meant to be a calming gesture. You hadn’t been calm in days.
“Come to bed,” he murmured, voice gravelly, still riddled with sleep.
You shook your head, eyes focused on the flames.
“I can’t sleep.”
He sighed, an exasperated sound as his fingers danced along your throat.
“You can’t can’t eat…”
You swallowed, heart sinking at the knowledge that you’d been found out.
“...I’m fine,” you told him.
“Remember what happened the last time you went so long without feeding…”
His words made your eyes cloud over, the memory so fresh in your mind you would’ve thought it happened yesterday instead of centuries ago. 
“ nearly broke you,” he whispered. “I don’t want to see you like that again.”
You didn’t respond, eyes instead falling to the floor as his grip tightened.
You shook your head.
“He was supposed to be back days ago,” you murmured, throat tight. “We haven’t heard from him in days.”
He exhaled, leaning down to press his lips to the top of your head, breathing you in.
“Can you still feel him? Focus...just like I taught you...”
You could. It was faint, and you had to search deep within yourself, but you could still feel him there within your chest. A light warmth that had been there since you’d first woken up into this new life.
“I can.”
“Then he’s alright…”
“Then why hasn’t he called? Or let us know that he’s okay?” you wondered, standing now as frustration colored your tone.
“It’s not the first time, doll. He will be fine, he always is, but you won’t be if you don’t drink something…”
The dull burn in your throat became all the more prominent as he reminded you of your thirst. A thirst that you hadn’t satiated in days. You turned, reluctantly lifting your eyes to meet the blue of his.
“I don’t think I can...not without…”
You trailed off, recalling the last and only time you had practically starved yourself. The lack of control you’d had… A small sigh reached your ears, and you watched as he nodded, stepping closer until his chest grazed yours.
“Drink from me for now...and then we’ll go hunting tomorrow.”
His hand was on your wrist, pulling you with him as he stepped back. He sank into the armchair, and you straddled him, fingers pressing into his shoulders as you made yourself comfortable. He gazed up at you like you had his heart in your hands, and the corner of your mouth lifted ever so slightly. 
“Anywhere you want,” he breathed.
Brushing your tongue over your bottom lip, you leaned in and sank your teeth into his throat. His hips lifted up into yours, hands curled around your waist as a low groan escaped you. Your eyes rolled as your body welcomed his blood into your system, coursing through your veins to give you much needed strength.
A hungry moan bubbled in your throat, and Steve sighed.
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Someone was yelling. Even through the jumbled haze that was your mind, you could recognize that much. It was also hard to breathe. Did you even need to breathe now? Probably not, but surely you did if the way you were clutching your chest and gasping for breath was anything to go by. Could vampires have panic attacks? Could vampires go into shock?
“You killed her!”
You had heard someone scream that only moments ago, and yet here they were again. There was so much yelling, so much chaos, and through it all, the voice became clear. Both voices became clear. It was James...and Steve…
The thought of the blond made your lips curl, and you shakily pulled yourself to your feet. You glanced down at your dress, taking note of the faded blood. Your blood. You had tried to kill yourself, you remembered that now...and James had found you… Both James and Steve had found you. Then Steve had killed you. 
The memories were coming back so fast. You could hardly make sense of it all, and it took some time before you remembered your awakening...James...Steve… Mary Jane. Your lips parted as you eyed the fresh blood on your dress...your hands… It did not take long for your eyes to find Mary Jane’s still body just at the foot of the bed.
“, no,” you mumbled, falling to your knees once again at her side.
Had you done this? You could not recall. There were blanks in your mind, but if you thought hard enough, you could conjure the uncontrollable thirst that had taken over you. You could remember the way James had attempted to stop you, the way Steve had laughed as you brutally drank from your maid. You could hear yourself scream, grief and rage hitting you all at once just before laying waste to the room.
You glanced up, eyes widening at the torn bedding and broken furniture. There were feathers everywhere. A soft sob left you as you cradled the lifeless girl in your arms. James and Steve were still arguing, fighting even, and you squeezed your eyes shut. This all felt like a bad dream. A nightmare...fueled by the vampire in the next room.
Had you been filled with less rage, you would have marveled at how quickly you moved. You found yourself in the receiving chamber, pinning Steve to the wall before you even realized what had happened. He merely chuckled, sharp teeth winking at you, blue eyes filled with mirth at your crisis.
“You did this to me,” you screamed, hitting at him. “You did this-!”
You cut yourself off with a sob just as James wrapped his arms around you, pulling you away from the other man. He shushed you, trying so hard to calm you, but you were inconsolable. The reality of the situation, your new reality, was finally starting to sink in, and you thought that the weight in your chest would crush you.
If it was not for James’ hold, you would have fallen to the floor. You had the hardest time breathing, setting your vision straight, and you shook so violently in his arms. You could feel him pressing kisses into your hair, still damp from what had transpired only hours ago.
That single word broke through, and it took you a moment to realize that he was not speaking to you. He was speaking to Steve. It seemed that both you and Steve came to the realization at the same time.
“Surely you are joking…”
“I mean it, Steve. You should not be here...not right now…”
Steve swallowed his words as you escaped and dug your nails into his throat, and while your attack did not last long, Steve easily fending you off, you were satisfied with the blood you had drawn. You fell to the floor but made no move to stand, hands pressed into the rug as you keeled over with another sob.
“You killed her, Steve.”
“Really? Because she seems to be alive and well from where I am standing,” the king sneered. “I have the marks to prove it.”
“You threw her off of the balcony!”
There was so much venom in James’ voice, and the silence that followed was thick. 
“She would have left us. Both you and I know that she would have tried again, and she would have succeeded! Is that what you would have wanted?”
You heard the wall shake.
“She did not deserve that,” James spat. “She deserved better. She deserved a painless death and a peaceful transition.”
Your nails scraped along the fabric of the rug as you recalled the pain of your body slamming into the stones below. The fear that had been enough to paralyze you once you realized what Steve had done.
“Now I must undo what you have done. I have to make this right for her...and I cannot do that with you around. You need to stay away from her for a while.”
You slowly lifted your head at James’ words, eyes taking in the scene before you. James had his hand at Steve’s throat, and you were surprised to find Steve’s cold gaze on you instead of James. He stared at you with such hatred, such contempt, and to your shock, you evenly stared back at him with the same look.
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“You’re in trouble, you know that right?”
Steve’s quiet words reached where you stood all the way at the top of the stairs. You heard James sigh, and your relief at his safe return was unfortunately overshadowed by the fact that he’d gone an entire week with no call, no text, no nothing to let you know that he was okay.
He finally stepped out of the foyer and into the living room, Steve just behind him, and he at least had the gall to look sheepish. You wrapped your arms around yourself, far from cold, but just a force of habit whenever you felt particularly pouty. James threw you a small smile to which you did not return.
“I’m home, my love.”
You didn’t respond, and his smile faltered.
“You look radiant…”
Again, you ignored his words as you finally made your way down the stairs, the bottom of your dress kissing your feet. His face fell when you brushed past him and instead made your way to Steve.
“Steve, I’m thirsty,” you said with a frown, and the blond bit back a smirk.
“You just ate yesterday,” he reminded you.
“Well, I want to go again,” you argued.
You huffed when he gripped your shoulders, forcing you to face James. The dark-haired man resembled a kicked puppy, and you looked away. Steve leaned down to brush his lips against your ear.
“Cut him some slack, doll. You know how demanding business can be,” he told you.
He briefly squeezed your shoulders before leaving you altogether, and you reluctantly met James’ eye. His shoulders fell, and he took a step towards you.
“The deal didn’t go as smoothly as we thought it would. Would you believe me if I told you that doing business with humans is easier than with our own kind?”
Again, you didn’t respond. At least, not right away, and you simply raised an eyebrow at him.
“Do phones not work in Romania?”
He closed his eyes, releasing a sigh.
“I was worried-.”
“I was fine.”
“...and how was I to know that?”
He tilted his head at you, pressing the palm of his hand to your chest where your heart would beat if it could. That warmth was more prominent now that he was near, and you could feel his remorse for his lack of communication with you while he was away. His blue eyes were soft as he gazed at you.
“This is how you know,” he said.
“That’s...not the point, James,” you sighed, turning away. “I get anxious. You know that…”
He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you into his chest.
“I know.”
“I don’t like it when we’re not all together. I hate when you go on these business trips by yourself,” you told him, turning in his hold. “Poor Steve has to put in twice the work just so I won’t miss you.”
James smirked, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Somehow, he manages to power through it, I’m sure,” he sarcastically replied.
You leaned in, brushing your lips along his chin, satisfied when James released a shaky breath.
“Are you coming hunting with us? I feel like it’s been so long with the three of us…”
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, pink lips curving even more as he drank you in.
“Didn’t Steve say you just went hunting…?”
“” you wondered, raising an eyebrow.
James chuckled, lips brushing yours as he spoke.
“You can’t get everything you want, my love.”
“You say that...and yet I always do,” you wondered, spinning away.
“We’ve talked about this, Y/N. We have to be careful,” he argued, halting your movements with a hand on your wrist. “This is a rather small town, and we stand out enough as it is.”
You didn’t respond, and he continued.
“Remember the last small town and your appetite?” he probed.
“It’s not my fault their community was filled with abusive and rapist scum. Besides, wasn’t that when I was snapping Steve’s neck every other week or so? I had to fully take out my frustrations on someone.”
He pulled you closer.
“You like it here, don’t you?”
“...and you want to stay for a long time, right?”
“...yes,” you reluctantly replied. “...but I’m thirsty, so…”
You ran your eyes along his frame.
“Somehow, some way, I’m drinking someone’s blood tonight.”
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The scream that you let out was gut-wrenching, and you were thankful that you were deep in the woods. Far away from the village and the kingdom. The only light came from that of the moon as it hung in the sky, and for once, you wished that you were bathed in darkness instead. You did not want to see the consequences of your actions, see what you had done.
You were reminded of that first night in your new life. You could hardly breathe and hardly make sense of what was happening. Like before, the memories came to you quickly, filling in the holes that had been missing from the last day or so.
The thought of drinking blood, harming another, even if it did not cost them their life, was enough to disgust you. You had had enough, and had refused to drink for days. James had warned you. Oh God, he had warned you. You thought yourself above this life. You thought that your heart was too good for this life and that your will would overpower your nature. You were wrong, and the lifeless body in your arms was proof of that. 
The boy was young, so young. He had long passed the precipice of childhood, but had yet to reach that of a man, and now he never would. You did not even remember smelling him, nor snatching him away, but when you closed your eyes, you could see it. You could see how unaware he had been as he poked through bushes to find some berries to pick. You could see the way you zeroed in on him. You could see the monster that you had become.
Another loud sob escaped your trembling lips as you rocked him in your arms, wishing and hoping that he would wake up. That it would all be a nightmare, he would wake up, and prove that you were not the monster you now thought yourself to be.
You felt him before you saw him, and when you reluctantly lifted your head, you were surprised to come face to face with Steve...not James.
“I killed him,” you sobbed.
Steve sighed, frowning at you as he approached. You had not seen him in months, only in passing really, and you had forgotten just how much you hated him. However, in this moment, you did not wish to be alone. You wished for someone to reassure you that you were not some crazed beast. Anything to stop the pain.
“Yes, well… James told me of the grand conclusion you came to, thinking yourself above your nature,” he scoffed, and you frowned.
He shook his head at you.
“Honestly, Y/N. What did you think would transpire?”
There it was again, that rage, and your lip curled.
“This is your fault. All of this is your fault!”
You were standing now, and Steve tilted his head at you.
“You did this to me. I am like this because of you...because of what you forced onto me.”
Steve took a step towards you, something in his eyes that you could not place.
“What is done, is done. This,” he pointed to the lifeless body at your feet. “...happened because of you, because you refused to accept your new reality. This happened because you tried to go against nature, your nature.”
His words filled you with an anger that you could hardly fathom, and before you knew it, your hands were on his head and then he was at your feet, neck twisted at an odd angle. You blinked, eyes widening as you realized what you had done, and you stumbled back. You hated Steve, God knows you did, but James would be far from happy about this. 
As if you summoned him up, he was suddenly there, and you jumped at the sight. Your wide eyes met his just before he took in the mess you left behind, and he sighed when his eyes landed onto the boy.
“Oh, Y/N,” he breathed, sounding sad.
You glanced at Steve’s still form.
You did not know how to tell him that you had killed his best friend, but James merely glanced at Steve before chuckling.
“I assure you, Steve is fine.”
You frowned, and he elaborated.
“You did not kill him...not permanently, at least,” he explained. “You just snapped his neck. It is something like a temporary death for us. He will be alright. It is rather painful though, but...even I must admit that he had it coming.”
“He will be angry with me,” you murmured. “...but he always seems to be angry with me. He blames me for your...separation.”
“Steve has no one to blame but himself, my love” he said, kneeling beside the nameless boy.
“You...were right, James,” you whispered, choked up.
He looked to you, eyes heavy with a myriad of emotions you could not even begin to name. Regret being the most evident one.
“I thought that I could fight it. I thought that I could make myself be something that I am not. Steve was right when he said that I did not want to accept my new reality, and I hate admitting that.”
“I will help you through this-.”
He blinked at you, standing now as he worriedly eyed you.
“I cannot do this,” you confessed.
“I am sorry. I sorry,” you whispered, leaving him there in the blink of an eye.
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Your fingers tangled in Steve’s hair as he swirled his tongue in and out of you. His lips couldn’t get enough, and he pressed his fingers into your thighs, holding you down. James was far on the other side of the room, face torn between hunger and disappointment. Despite the fact that he was safe and sound, you were still miffed about his lack of communication.
“You can look...but you can’t touch.”
That was what you’d told him, and even though it was obvious how much he wanted to protest, he obeyed. Now he stood as still as a statue, hands balled into fists, face taut as he fought to prevent himself from tasting you as Steve was currently doing. 
Your chest was pointed towards the ceiling, mouth parted as moans climbed out of your throat. Steve was ravenous between your legs, groans escaping here and there to send vibrations through you, making you clench around his tongue.
“Steve,” you moaned, eyes rolling.
That was what you both loved and hated about Steve. He could remain between your thighs for days on end if you allowed him to. Your voice caught when he pushed you over the edge, chest heaving and stomach tightening while the blond greedily lapped at you, refusing to waste a single drop. You could hear James swallow as Steve crawled up your spent frame, blue eyes narrowing like that of a feline.
He pulled you into his lap, bare chest pressed to yours, arms wrapped around your waist. You threw your own around his neck, nose brushing his as you let out a happy sigh. 
“I think I’ve tortured James enough, don’t you?”
You grinned at him, and Steve returned it, leaning up. You pulled back, smile widening as you evaded his kiss.
“I don’t know, doll. I think he could stand some more,” he purred.
The mischief in his eyes matched your own, and you both turned to leer at James, your cheek pressed against Steve’s. You offered your hand to James, and it was impressive how fast he moved, taking your hand and pressing his lips to yours. You moaned into the kiss while Steve trailed his own lips to your neck.
Your teeth scraped along James’ mouth, drawing blood, and your body buzzed at the taste. A low moan crawled from James’ lips as you leaned down to sink your teeth into his throat, his hand coming up to twist into your hair. You pulled away with a sigh, Steve’s mouth seeking out your own, eager to taste James on your tongue. You could hear the dark-haired man swiftly undressing, pressing his chest to your back in no time, eager to make his absence up to you.
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“You need to come back.”
You froze, eyes focused on Steve as he stood in the tiny cottage you had taken up residence in, making the space look that much smaller. You swallowed as you eyed him, recalling the last time you saw him in which you had snapped his neck. That was the last time you saw James too. That was months ago. Your emotions must have been all over your face because Steve simply smirked.
“Relax. I am not here to snap your neck as you did mine,” he assured you, stepping further into the place.
He looked as regal as he always did, blond hair neatly pushed out of his face.
“Nor would you be in the right to. If anything, you had it coming from the moment you killed me,” you hissed.
He narrowed his eyes at you, and you continued before he could speak.
“Why are you here? How did you find me?” you demanded, genuine confusion coloring your tone.
“Do not be daft, sweet Y/N. We have known of your whereabouts this entire time. If it were not for James, I would have dragged you back to the castle long ago, but he insisted that you needed time,” he explained.
“...and yet here you are.”
Steve’s jaw ticked, and he neared you.
“Yes. Here I am, because you need to come back,” he repeated.
“Why?” you scoffed. “ you can torture me some more? Make my life as miserable as your heart?”
“He is not the same,” Steve suddenly said, making you swallow your words. “He needs you.”
The thought of James sullen and wasting himself away was enough to make your heart clench, but you simply folded your arms over your chest, glancing away.
“I am happy here,” you told him.
“Really? Happy here to feed on the squirrels and the deer like some beast of the wild?” he sneered.
“What is it to you?”
He was on you in a flash, fingers pressing into your jaw so harshly you could have sworn you heard it crack. His nose brushed against yours as he glared into your eyes, an untamable fire behind his own. 
“It means something to me because I wish to see him happy. As much as I despise your very presence...he is not himself whilst you are gone,” Steve told you.
You scoffed.
“Are you no longer enough for him? Funny, because whenever I was around, all he seemed to do was put you first-.”
You cut yourself off with a gasp as he slammed you into the wall, the small house shaking from the force. Your eyes watered and your lips trembled as you glared at the man before you, the man who had killed you.
“I am giving you one week. One week to do what you must. Drink from all the animals you like, tear through every tree while imagining my face on them, get whatever you must out of your system,” he began.
You looked away, and he pressed his lips to your cheek.
“If you have not returned in a week, if you run, I will find you...and I will drag you back...but not before reminding you of just how cruel I can be,” he purred.
You pushed against him, and he merely moved to catch your wrists, slamming them into the wall. Steve's forehead was pressed to yours, and you could not meet his eye.
“You may not be as weak as you once were,” he started, forcing his knee between your legs. “...but you will never be strong enough to fend me off. I have no problem reminding you of that.”
He brushed his lips over your trembling ones, and then he was gone, ruining your peace once again. You cried for the first time in weeks that night. You had no doubt that if you ran, Steve would find you. You did not know how they even found you to begin with, but it was scary to think that they knew where you were this entire time without your knowledge. What else were they capable of? 
As much as you did not want to, it was exactly one week later that you found yourself returning to the castle. It was late in the night, all of the servants and any other guests fast asleep, when you walked through the doors. James was there before you hardly got a foot inside, and you were in his arms before you knew it.
“I have missed you,” he sighed, squeezing you to him.
He breathed you in, and you found yourself doing the same, reluctant to admit that you missed him too. For a moment, you were reminded of a time where you felt safe in his arms, and you wondered if you would ever feel that again. When soft footsteps reached your ears, you looked up, Steve’s eyes meeting yours as he stood behind James, practically bathed in darkness. It was then that you realized the answer was no. You would probably never feel that again. Not while Steve was around.
Contrary to what you had thought, the time that followed was far from miserable. Steve still kept a safe distance, and James did his best to teach you about your new life. Whenever you did see Steve though, it was cordial...polite...but tense. There was something unspoken in the air that you were reluctant to give attention to. It stewed for the longest time until James was the one to finally bring attention to it.
“We need to talk, my love,” he said to you one evening.
You had frowned a bit, but eventually closed your book, giving him your full attention. You could not read his face, and that worried you.
“It is about Steve,” he began.
You swallowed, straightening.
“What about Steve…?”
At this point, it had been two years since your death that was somehow both literal and metaphorical, and you had not come any closer to softening your heart towards the king. You hardly saw him, hardly spoke to him as he continued to do as James asked and gave you the space to make your transition into this life much smoother.
James sighed, reaching up to brush his thumb along your cheek.
“It is meant to be the three of us…”
You looked away, heart sinking as you realized what this was about.
“That is how I envisioned our future, and I hope that we can get back to that some day.”
“I am not rushing you. Believe me, there is still much anger in my heart towards him for what he did, and I know that my anger cannot ever compare to yours. I only wish to remind you that this is what I hope for us some day.”
You did not respond, and he continued. 
“I am bringing this up because I have spoken with Steve...and he will be doing his best to make amends. I want you to expect that…”
Yours eyes met his, and he left you with a small smile. You soon found out that Steve’s version of making amends was to buy you things you had never asked for.
“It is all the rage in France,” Steve huffed as you turned your nose up at the gaudy necklace.
“Well, I am sure they will appreciate having it returned to them,” you snidely commented
Fed up, he threw the necklace to the ground, pointing a finger at you.
“You are being unnecessarily difficult,” he hissed.
Your eyes widened and your lips parted as you stared at him as if he had grown a second head before your very eyes.
“This...,” you picked up the other jewels he had brought. “...means nothing. All of this means nothing!”
You threw them at him, taking great satisfaction in the offended look he wore.
“You killed me!”
Two years worth of anger and hurt had been stewing. Your fingers trembled and your body vibrated and your eyes burned as you stared at the blond man before you. Your murderer.
“You taunted me and made my life hell for years! And then...and then you tossed of a balcony,” you shakily gasped. “...and you think that your money will atone for that?”
Steve said nothing, face taut as your words hit him square on.
“You think these meaningless things will undo what you have done? How on earth did you manage to keep the throne all these years with nothing between those ears of yours?”
He was quick in invading your space, and his chest heaved with barely contained anger as you glared at him.
“You will watch how you speak to me.”
“Or what? You shall kill me? Again?”
He said nothing, and his nostrils flared.
“James will end your pitiful existence the minute that you do,” you spat.
The words had just barely left your mouth when his hand found your throat. Having anticipated this because Steve was nothing if not predictable, you grabbed the bejeweled dagger he had tried to gift you, plunging it straight into his chest. You felt no disgust when he coughed, blood flying past his lips and onto your face. You could only feel satisfaction as you watched the pain register on his features.
Your gratification did not last long as you watched him swallow down the ache, a troubling laugh escaping his bloody lips. His wide eyes took you in with something you could not name, but if you did not know any better, you would think it was pride. He chuckled again, his hand coming up to cover your own that still held the knife in his chest. He leaned in, with difficulty, and brushed his blood-stained lips over your own.
“Word of advice...a piece of wood is what you desire.”
He tightened his grip on your hand, and you winced, gaze never parting from his.
“ might want to aim a bit higher next time,” he said through clenched teeth just before ripping it out.
You gasped as he snatched it from your fingers, quickly fisting his other hand into your hair, pressing the blade to your throat. You just felt a trickle of blood when James came bursting into the room. He was quick to pull Steve away, pinning the king to the wall.
“Have you lost your mind?”
Steve merely chuckled, a smirk on his pink lips.
“We were just having some fun. Right, Y/N?”
He looked to you, and you merely huffed, brushing past them both, ignoring James as he called for you. You did not see a future in which you would ever forgive Steve for what he did, what he put you through, but you could not accept one in which the two of you were constantly at each other’s throats. Something had to give.
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Is this what you had come to? Is this who you were now? The thought was enough to make you sick, but surely it was the only way? Right…? Steve did not stir, and his body was warm beneath yours as you tightened your hands around the stake. The entire time that you whittled it, you kept wondering to yourself if this was what you really wanted to do? Could you even do this?
You pressed the end of it to his chest and swallowed. Would James hate you? He would be mad, that was for sure. That was to be expected even, but surely he could grow past this right? If your heart was able to beat, you were positive that it would be threatening to leap from your chest this very moment. Why were you scared? Why were you nervous? Steve deserved this...a thousand times over.
You were having doubts, and you did not want to admit that. You had stewed over this for months. Months of arguing and fighting. How many times had you drawn blood from him and vice versa? How many more? You jumped, startled when a hand closed around both of yours, and you lifted your gaze to meet the unflinching one of Steve. It suddenly occurred to you that he may have been awake this entire time.
You sharply inhaled, but he simply smiled, pink lips curving upwards ever so slightly.
“Do it,” he urged.
Your eyes widened, and you almost listened to him, but you faltered.
“Go it…”
His blue eyes glinted with something unknown, and his teeth winked at you as he grinned.
“...why?” you suddenly wondered. “Why do you want me to?”
He tilted his head at you.
“You must learn to survive this life one way or another…”
You frowned, heart sinking at that. 
“I… James…”
Steve hummed, nodding.
“Yes. He will be quite angry. I daresay he might even kill you,” he told you.
Your eyes widened at that, chest clenching.
“...the same he would do to me should I ever take you away from him.”
Your shoulders dropped at that, and you blinked.
“He loves us both...and he does not intend to live the rest of his days without either one of us by his side. I may not like this, but I have come to accept it.”
You glanced away, his words taking up residence within you.
“...but if you cannot accept this, then by all that stake through my heart. Truly become what you are and take what you must. That is how you survive this life…”
There was that phrase again. You did not like it, did not like the way it made you feel, and with a disgusted gasp, you dropped the stake. You held your hands up and away from Steve, chest heaving as you shook your head.
“ That is...not how I wish to survive this life,” you told him.
You chanced a glance at him, finding that his eyes had darkened considerably. With a growl, the stake was in his hand, and he had flipped you, hovering over you as you trembled beneath him.
“Then you are weak!”
He had not expected that response, and he looked taken aback. His fair hair brushed his forehead, thin shirt hanging off of his shoulder as he frowned at you.
“Fine...then I am weak. Call me whatever you like, Steve, but that is not me...and it shall never be me.”
You could feel the tip of the stake pressing into you through the fabric of your gown, and you swallowed, eyes boring into his.
“If you wish to drive that stake through my heart, to take what you want, then you may do so, but that is not who I am,” you quietly said. “I am not you.”
As much as you wished you could be, you were not like Steve. God knows that you hated him, and a part of you even hated James too, but killing Steve would hurt James, and you could not do that. You would not be able to live with yourself. Steve stared at you for a long time, and for a moment you thought that he would, but all too soon, you heard the piece of wood clatter to the floor. He remained hovering over you, hand on your neck now, and you swallowed as a shudder passed through you. His chambers were quiet as you simply stared at one another, and you thought to yourself how horrible it was that someone so demented could be so beautiful. Life was most cruel.
“I hate you,” you suddenly whispered.
Your words did not affect him, but you repeated them anyway.
“I hate you so much. I do not think you can ever imagine just how much I truly hate you, Steve,” you mumbled, tears kissing your eyes.
The king leaned down, nose brushing along yours as he hummed. Your lashes fluttered, hating the way heat swirled in your gut with his movements.
“I shall never forgive you.”
“It is not your forgiveness I seek,” he said.
He settled in between your legs, forcing them around his waist as his lips pressed against your neck.
“Then what do you seek from me…?”
His sharp teeth grazed your throat, and you curled your hands into fists, nails pressing into your palms. Your world was suddenly spinning, and you found yourself on top of Steve yet again. One of his hands pressed into your waist, holding you to him while you laid your palms on his chest. Even in the dark, the blue of his eyes appeared darker. Just as you were about to move to get off of him, he sat up, pressing his chest to yours.
Your words died on your tongue when he pressed his thumb to your mouth, scraping it over your teeth, and your eyes rolled when his blood fell onto your tongue.
“Show me how much you hate me,” he purred, leaning in to sink his own teeth into the skin just above your breast, piercing it through the fabric of your gown.
You had your way with Steve that night, hips moving over his as you sought out your climax again and again. You bit him, scratched him, left marks on every piece of flesh you could get your hands on, and he welcomed it all. Steve enjoyed a bit of pain, you realized, and you were shocked to find out just how much you enjoyed giving it to him. 
By the time you were done, the sun peaking through the window, the sheets were stained with blood. Steve was fast asleep, breathing faint, and you were leaving his chambers, feeling a bit shameful in your bloody gown from the night before. You were surprised to find James awaiting you when you entered the corridor, and you jumped a bit, pressing a hand to your chest.
You were unsure of what to say. For some reason, you thought James would be mad, but then you remembered that this is what he wanted. You frowned as he approached you, leaning in to press his lips to yours, tasting Steve’s blood on them. He did not completely pull away, and you felt the corner of his mouth lift.
“Good girl,” he whispered.
You reared back, eyeing him and the small smirk on his lips, and you suddenly wondered just how coincidental your night with Steve was...or if outside forces had come into play.
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You glided through the sea of bodies, the flashing lights doing little to obstruct your vision. The club was otherwise dark, everyone around you too preoccupied with drugs or alcohol or the person next to them. Steve and James were currently knocked out at home, and while vampire blood quelled the thirst, it wasn’t what your body lived on. Venturing out for a few hours wouldn’t hurt anyone...or so you intended.
Unimpressed with the slim pickings before you, you exited the club. It was a nice summer night, but it would be much nicer if you could find something quick to eat. You heard the footsteps behind you as you made your way to your car parked on the side of the street, but you didn’t think much of it. At least, not until a warm hand wrapped around your wrist. You spun, eyes wide and confused.
The man before you had a fair complexion, hair dark and eyes darker. His facial hair was tasteful, jawline sharp, and under different circumstances, you might have found him attractive, but he wreaked of malicious intentions. You only discovered what those intentions were when he pushed against you. You allowed him to, looking at him like he had a death wish as he pinned you to your car.
“I saw you inside the club,” he said.
“...and?” you wondered, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Just a bit surprised to see a girl like you all alone… Dressed like that, you must be looking for something,” he grinned.
You scoffed, pushing against him.
“Get lost, creep.”
He snatched your hand, applying what you were sure he thought was painful pressure. You glowered at him as he pressed himself more firmly against you, and you could feel him hot and hard beneath his jeans.
“I really hate teases like you, you know,” he sneered. “You come out dressed like whores, knowing exactly what you look like, what kind of attention you’re looking for, and then when you get it… You get all surprised on us.”
You tilted your head at him, eyes narrowing.
“Nobody plays hard to get anymore. We see right through it.”
You pressed your lips together, mind whirling as you looked away. With a smirk, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his. He groaned into your mouth, tight grip still on your hand. When you pulled back, you licked your lips, brushing your nose against his.
“You caught me,” you chuckled. “Wanna come back to my place? I’ll drive.”
He grinned at you with a nod, taking a step back. By the time you got behind the wheel, he was already seated. He whistled at the interior of the car, and you threw him a sly smile as you started it.
“This yours?”
“It’s my ex’s,” you told him with a shrug.
It wasn’t a lie. James had been your ex at the time, angry with him for something you could hardly recall. The not-so-breakup breakup lasting a few months before Steve intervened. You just didn’t mention that you and said ex were happily back together.
The would be rapist talked the entire way as you sped down the road to upstate New York. If he took note of the long commute, he didn’t comment on it. Then again, why would he? He was far too preoccupied with getting laid. When you pulled up in front of the large and isolated mansion, you noticed the way his eyes briefly widened. The corner of your lips lifted just a bit as you took note of the way his heart skipped a beat.
The house was quiet, lighting dim when you entered, and you wondered if they were still asleep. You hoped not. You knew they had to be hungry. Before you could think more on it, the man behind you, Brock was what he called himself, wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. You didn’t react as he pressed kisses to your neck, your hungry eyes looking around for any sign of Steve or James instead.
“This is a nice place, kind of big for one woman.” he commented.
Footsteps reached your ears, far too soft for him to notice, and you bit your lip, fighting a smile.
“I agree,” you breathed, spinning around to cover his lips with your own.
His hands were tight on your waist, lips hungry and tongue searching, and the only reason disgust didn’t fill you was because you knew this would be worth it in only a matter of seconds.
You pulled away, ignoring the look on Brock’s face as you turned to grin at Steve. Your hands were on the raven-haired man’s face, your own visage practically glowing.
“Stevie,” you coolly responded.
You didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as he took in the way the strange man held you, and your stomach flipped. You skipped towards him, hanging onto his arm as he continued to stare at the other man, a thousand ways to kill him running through his head, no doubt.
“What is the meaning of this?” he quietly demanded.
“What the fuck is going on?”
You ignored Brock, pouting at the blond man.
“He thought he could make me do whatever he wanted, Steve,” you whispered.
His head snapped towards you, jaw clenching as he ran his eyes over you. He knew that you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, but it was a habit he had no intentions of breaking.
“ thought I’d bring him home…”
A smirk danced along his lips.
“Is that so?” he wondered, slowly turning to face the other man who was seconds away from leaving.
Too quickly for his eye to see, Steve was upon him, a hand digging into his shoulder. Brock barely had time to make any kind of noise before your husband was brutally tearing into his throat. You quietly approached them as Steve greedily drank from the skeevy man. He was dead by the time you reached them, and Steve lifted his head towards you, face stained, blood crawling down his neck.
He growled before smashing his lips against yours. You were reluctant to admit that the dead scum tasted better than you thought he would, but fear always did make the blood taste sweeter. You heard his body drop to the ground as Steve pressed his hands into your neck, tongue tasting the inside of your mouth while yours tasted the blood on his. You only pulled away when you heard a sigh, and you both turned to face James at the bottom of the stairs.
“What have I said about in the house?”
He sounded exasperated, but didn’t look particularly upset. You had the distinct feeling that he heard everything, and the reluctant smile that found its way onto his lips confirmed that. He beckoned you over, and you complied.
“Still mad at me?” he wondered, pinching your chin.
“No,” you said, shaking your head.
He pecked your lips.
“Good. I’ll help you get rid of that, Steve...and my love?”
He had brushed past you, and you turned to look at him expectantly.
“Never in the house,” he lightly scolded.
You returned his scowl with a grin.
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The shard broke off deep into his neck, and Steve hissed, reaching to dig it out just as you plunged the other half into his chest.
“Fucking hell!”
Your palm connected with his cheek just before he shoved himself away from you, and you were determined to follow when strong familiar arms wrapped around you from behind, pinning your arms at your side.
“Let go of me,” you cried.
“Let. Go. Of. Me!”
James did not listen, and instead you found yourself pinned to the wall, his arms preventing you from moving. You glared past his shoulder, trying in vain to kill Steve with your vision alone. The blond winced as he tore the broken glass from his neck, blood soaking into his shirt.
“He killed him,” you spat, lips trembling as the pain in your chest flared with the reminder of what Steve had done.
The man in question snapped his head up, eyes dark with anger and jealousy while his lip curled over his teeth.
“And I would happily do it again,” he sneered.
“He was my friend!”
“He coveted you,” Steve hissed, face only a hair’s width away from your own now. “You would think that after 400 plus years on this God forsaken earth, you would realize that.”
You frantically shook your head.
“No. Not everyone is like you, Steve. Not everyone has the worst intentions,” you screamed. 
Steve simply rolled his eyes, turning away as he removed his shirt. You looked to James for help, anything to back you up, but he did not look the least bit remorseful about what Steve had done. He sighed, and you frowned.
“I gave Steve the okay,” he quietly confessed. 
Your eyes widened, and you stumbled back out of his now loose hold. You stared at him in confusion, fighting to understand what he was telling you.
“W-what? told him to kill Clint?” 
James did not respond, and you swallowed, a sharp pain traveling through your chest.
“...why?” you softly asked. “He was my friend. He made me laugh, he listened to me…”
You ignored Steve’s scoff, and James reached out to brush his thumb over your chin.
“We cannot get attached to humans.”
“You did,” you threw at him. “Or have you forgotten how I ended up in this situation to begin with?”
Anger briefly flashed over his features, and you tilted your head at him.
“That was different-.”
“How so? Was it different because you can do whatever you want while I cannot? Or is it different because you felt threatened by him?”
James pressed his chest to yours, staring you down with a look you had never been on the receiving end of before. You shuddered, and he took another step forward, forcing you back.
“Threatened by a mere human who we snuffed out like it was nothing?”
“I enjoyed being around him. I enjoyed learning about the ever changing world. He reminded me of a life that Steve so cruelly ripped away from me, and you hated it,” you whispered.
James’ silence spoke volumes.
“Admit it. You were terrified that I would...what...turn him? Then run off into the sunset, leaving the two of you behind?”
Now it was your turn to scoff.
“How quickly you forget that I am nothing like you...and that I could never do to someone else what you have done to me,” you snidely told him.
James sharply inhaled, straightening to his full height.
“You are ours, and it will remain that way until the end of time.”
You looked down, but James’ hand on your chin forced you to hold his uncharacteristically cold gaze.
“...and Steve and I will kill whomever we see fit to ensure nothing disrupts that.”
You snatched your face out of his grip, tears in your eyes.
“He did not taste half bad. You should have drank from him when you had the chance,” Steve chuckled.
Only a moment later, your hands were on his face, and he collapsed at your feet. Anger coursed through you as you stared down at him, wishing you had the strength and callousness to drive a stake through his heart. James heaved a sigh from behind you, and you felt him approach.
“You cannot keep doing that every time he upsets you, my love.”
You turned to face him, frown deepening when he placed his hand on your cheek. You copied him, placing your other hand on his other cheek, before breaking his neck with a grimace. You scoffed, shaking your head at them both before storming out of the room.
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The storm raged around you as you stared down into the overgrown grass. Centuries upon centuries had passed, and while it was certainly not as grand as it had once been, the basic structure of the castle remained. You had no doubt that in the years to come, it would be a tourist attraction. Nothing else from the building mattered much. The only thing that was of some importance, the balcony, remained, and that was all that you cared about.
You pressed your hand to your lips as you looked around, feeling like it was only yesterday that you had been here. If you thought hard enough, you could recall the early days of your marriage, filled with innocence and naivety. You could even recall the respect and admiration you’d had for Steve then, back when he was a king. Your relationship with the blond was much more complicated these days than you cared to admit.
And if you really relaxed, really thought hard enough, you could see her smile. You could see the way her hair caught the sun, looking almost red at times. You could hear her laugh at some jest that was far too inappropriate for a woman to make back then. If you thought hard enough, you could see...her.
You didn’t realize that you had closed your eyes until they snapped open at the familiar warmth in your chest that was growing by the minute. You hadn’t intended to bond with Steve that night, it sort of just happened, and the damage had been done. At least he had taught you how to feel his presence deep within your chest, a warmth that was always there but had not realized was James...and now Steve too. It was how James always found you every time you took off. You didn’t like that he’d hidden that from you…
You didn’t need to turn around to know that he was there. You could feel him like he was touching you instead of way on the other side of the room. He didn’t say anything, and you got the feeling that James had grown worried, had told him to come find you. After all, it had been a few months since you last saw them. It was how you coped when you couldn’t stand to look at their faces. You could feel Steve’s surprise at finding you here.
“Why did you kill her?” you suddenly wondered, voice quiet.
The rain was loud, words drowned out even more as you were on the balcony, but you knew that he heard you all the same.
“I loved her...and you took her away from me. Why?”
“...because I couldn’t control her,” he eventually responded, equally low voice reaching your ears.
Steve didn’t sound boastful, he didn’t even sound satisfied with himself. In fact, the vampire behind you almost sounded regretful. 
“...and me?”
You blinked, tears skipping down your face as you finally turned to face him. Your eyes met his, and his jaw clenched as he took note of the way your own shined.
“Why did you kill me?”
Steve didn’t answer, and you stumbled towards him.
“Why, Steve? threw me off of that balcony. You took my life into your hands, and you just crushed it! Like it was nothing… You killed me.”
“I know-.”
“You killed me!”
You shoved him, and he let you. He swallowed, reaching for you. It was always so fresh in your mind. Your fear, the cruel smirk on his face, his heartlessness...and then the pain. The way he laughed when you had killed your maid. Mary Jane. So many had died as the result of his own selfish desires...
“I know, I know.”
“You killed me, Steve,” you cried, hitting his chest, his shoulders, his face.
He merely blinked as you slapped him again. You could feel his own regret and his own despair and it made you angrier. It was centuries too late.
“You killed me, you killed me, you killed me,” you repeatedly sobbed, shoving him and shaking him over and over again. “Why?”
You fisted your hands into his shirt, yanking him.
“Why did you kill me, Steve? Why...why did you do that to me?” you shakily mumbled, lips trembling.
Steve pressed his hand into the back of your head, the other at the small of your back, and you fought against him.
“You were going to leave us,” he reluctantly said. “You were going to leave me…”
You didn’t meet his eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours.
“My feelings then may have been just as complicated as they are now, but I only knew that I couldn't let you leave,” he confessed.
You shook your head, a sob caught in your throat.
“You would have tried again...and you would have succeeded,” he breathed.
He was right. You both knew that he was right, and you would have tried again. After all, at the time, you thought it was your only way to get away from him. Steve’s lips sought out yours, and you turned your head away. His regret threatened to suffocate you.
“I’m sorry,” he exhaled.
You shook your head again, turning away every time he reached for your face.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, lips finding yours.
Your back hit the wall, and you could feel his own lips trembling against yours. Your salty tears mixed in with the kiss, and you cried harder at your despair, his regret, and your inability to change the past.
“Forgive me,” he pleaded into your mouth.
“No,” you whispered back.
His lips traveled to your jaw and then your neck before kissing the fabric of your dress as Steve fell to his knees, begging for your forgiveness every step of the way.
“Forgive me, forgive me,” he chanted.
Your hands tangled in his hair as he fiercely kissed your stomach, pressing his face into your dress as he continued to beg for your forgiveness. You never thought you’d see the day where Steve would be on his knees, begging you to forgive him. After all, once upon a time, he’d told you that your forgiveness was not what he sought...and once upon a time, you said you’d never give it.
As your fingers tightened in his hair, you thought to yourself that perhaps you could forgive him. You could feel his remorse, feel how what he’d done had been eating at him. It had been doing so for quite some time, but you’d always tried to ignore it. You never thought a day would come where you’d even consider forgiving him for making your life hell, killing Peggy...killing you, but as his pleas reached your ears, you were tempted to give in. Maybe you would forgive him some day…
In one quick movement, you’d snapped Steve’s neck, and he heavily fell at your feet. You stood against the wall, trembling and crying. Your fingers shook, and in all the years you’d done that whenever Steve made you incredibly angry, for the first time ever, it did not bring you joy. 
Maybe you would forgive Steve someday...but today was not that day.
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Your watchful eyes followed the children as they ran across the street. Despite their ratty clothing and dirty faces, bright smiles adorned their lips as they laughed and played with one another. The owner of the orphanage, a kind and homely woman, ushered them along. You caught her eye and she waved. You returned it with a smile, James and Steve hardly paying you mind as they conversed about their investments. 
You had more money than you could ever dream of, so you donated to the orphanage often. The children who always lived there always looked their best now, but you could see that these kids were new. You watched the way they played amongst each other, running around Ms. Jane, their giggles reaching your ears as she fought to settle them down.
“My love?”
You were pulled from the scene at the sound of James’ voice. His brows were furrowed, and he looked concerned.
“Are you alright…?”
You nodded at him.
“Of course.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t entirely true either. You were certain that James could feel that, and that was probably why his face briefly pinched before it smoothed out. He reached past Steve to brush a finger over your cheek, a small smile on his lips just before he turned away. You quickly glanced at the children again before tightening your hold on Steve’s arm.
You glanced to him just as he turned to look at you, raising an eyebrow.
“Can vampires procreate?”
You didn’t like to ask James these things. He had a habit of withholding information from you or even just downright sugarcoating things. You could feel his eyes on you, and you ignored his gaze as you waited for Steve to answer. He threw you a strained smile.
“No...but we sure love to try,” he joked, and you reluctantly chuckled.
You looked away from him, and he brushed a finger over the back of your hand.
“Why do you ask?”
Your eyes strayed to the laughing children again, and you shrugged.
“Just curious, I guess…”
You could feel their concern, but you ignored it, and days later, the conversation was forgotten altogether. But every now and then, you thought about those children, about where they lived. Despite the fact that you’d put a lot of money into the place, they still deserved a proper home. 
Steve and James were gone when you left. It was late, and they were meeting with shady businessmen, no doubt. Times were different. It was the 1910’s, an age of cars and alcohol and money, and every man wanted to do business with the elusive Steve Rogers and James Barnes. You smirked to yourself, thinking on how everyone thought them to be descendants of royal blood, unaware that they were indeed the original royal blood everyone thought them to be related to.
The night was cold, not that you could tell, but the frost on the windows and the shivers from the men that you passed told you so. You ignored the strange looks they gave you, a woman such as yourself out so late by your lonesome? That was one thing that hadn’t changed in the years to come. The orphanage was in a better part of town, away from the seedy bar and brothel, no predatory and violent men around to disturb the peace of the children.
You could hear a horse and carriage far off in the distance as you stared up at the building. All of the windows were covered with curtains, and when you listened closely, you could hear the calm and even heartbeats of all the children inside. All except one. You frowned when the door opened and a little boy stood in the open doorway with an empty pail. His eyes widened at the sight of you before a smile eventually graced his lips.
“H-hello,” he hesitantly stuttered. 
You stared at him for a long while, blinking at him before eventually squatting to meet him at eye level. He couldn’t have been any older than seven.
“Hi,” you breathed. “What are you doing up so late?”
If he was frightened by your sharp teeth, he did not show it. His heart didn’t even stutter. He held up the bucket with a shrug.
“I wanted to get some water for in the morning, so that Ms. Jane wouldn’t have to,” he told you.
You let out a light laugh.
“That is so sweet. What is your name?”
You quietly repeated it to yourself, and you stared at him, your heart already making your next decision for you before your mind could catch up. You slowly stood, extending your hand towards him with an inviting smile.
“Are you hungry, Billy?”
You got the feeling that he was going to protest, but his stomach told on him before he got the chance.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a nod, looking sheepish.
Your smile widened, and your heart soared when he stumbled towards you, placing his smaller hand in yours. As you walked him back to the house, he told you of how Ms. Jane did the best she could with the donations, but the orphanage was filling up with more and more kids each year. He was fairly new, only having been there for all of three months. He marveled at your mansion, brown eyes alight with wonder.
He was well behaved, waiting patiently while you fixed him something to eat. You were happy that he was comfortable with you, talking your ear off the entire time. You made sure to fix him a hearty soup, filled with vegetables and plenty of meat. He didn’t seem to mind as you studied him, far too engrossed in the food before him. 
You hadn’t realized how much time had passed.
Startled, you turned, looking up to find James and Steve standing in the entryway to the living room. Billy and you were on the floor, the fire lit to keep him warm, and you hurriedly stood. James hardly ever called you by your name, and you did not need to look within yourself to know that he was angry. It was written all over his face.
“Is that your name?” Billy asked you.
You turned to him with a strained smile and nod.
“You stay right here, okay?”
You ruffled his hair, and he smiled at you with an obedient nod. You swallowed as you turned to approach James and Steve, not missing the way James’ eyes never left you. You could feel their worry, and that confused you.
“What have you done?” James demanded, and you flinched at his tone.
You gestured to Billy.
“There are so many children in the orphanage, so I-.”
“So you brought him here? To a house full of vampires?”
He talked to you like you were stupid, and you looked to Steve for help, but his own face was pinched with worry, blue eyes flickering between you and the boy.
“We can raise him,” you quietly said. “He’ll never have to want for anything-.”
“No,” James snapped.
“You could have killed him. Exposed all of us,” he argued. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that he could be ours,” you weakly replied, hating the way your voice trembled.
James’ eyes softened, shoulders sagging as he heaved a sigh. You looked to Steve, the blond the more open minded of the two, eyes pleading as you reached for him.
“Steve…? Tell him, Steve,” you said, pushing yourself against him. “Let me keep him.”
Steve’s eyes landed on James, the dark-haired man almost daring Steve to say something.
“Let’s just think about it-.”
“Absolutely not. We’ll be lucky if no one has already noticed his absence…”
“No,” you breathed. “James, no.”
“I’m taking him back. Now,” he hissed, brushing past you.
“No,” you cried, standing in his way. “I hardly ask you for anything.”
James’ eyes widened at your uncharacteristic behavior, and you clutched his shirt.
“...and I should. I should ask you for the world. I deserve it! I can take care of him, James.”
Your voice was small, and James gave you a regretful look before glancing away.
“Let me have this one thing,” you softly begged.
James was quiet, so was Steve, and the only sound was that of Billy finishing his food. James clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring before finally speaking.
You fought in Steve’s hold as he grabbed you, holding you back as James approached Billy. You screamed as he stared into the boy’s eyes, Billy falling asleep only moments later, James catching him with ease.
“Fuck you, James,” you spat as he passed you. “Fuck you!”
You could feel the pain that your words caused, but you didn’t care. You turned to press your face into Steve’s chest as the door slammed shut, collapsing in his arms. He tightened his arms around you, shushing you as sobs wracked your frame.
“You could have killed him.”
“I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t have done that-.”
“You don’t know that,” he said. “You’re still fairly young. You could have easily killed him, and then what?”
You shoved yourself away from Steve, wrapping your arms around yourself as you sniffed.
“You did this to me,” you mumbled.
It was an old argument. You and Steve were in a far better place than what you used to be, but you were still so far from where you could be. You looked to him, eyes hard and lip curling over your teeth.
“I wanted kids. I always wanted kids, and you took that away from me…”
Steve sighed, looking down.
“I want to blame you...but the truth is...a part of me hates James too,” you confessed.
“...because the truth is...that life was gone the moment James decided that I was to be his.”
Steve reached for you, but you stepped away. Your eyes briefly fluttered close, a soft scoff escaping your lips.
“It’s not fair,” you whispered, shaking your head. “It’s not fair.”
You flurried past him, slamming your shoulder into his as you passed by.
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Steve’s hold was almost bruising on your hips, his own pushing up into yours over and over again with every thrust. You dug your nails into his chest, head thrown back to accommodate for James, his lips tasting the skin of your neck and shoulder. Your lashes fluttered as you clenched around Steve, and James’ nails pressed into your skin.
“I don’t like that he touched you,” he murmured against your skin.
You sighed when Steve wrapped his lips around a hardened bud.
“It was a means to an end…”
James hummed, Steve far too preoccupied with the way his cock slid in and out of you.
“...and if I had to seduce some other woman as a means to an end?” he wondered.
His tone was teasing, and you all knew he wasn’t serious, but you froze anyway, turning your head to stare into his eyes. Your own hardened considerably, and James chuckled at the fire in your eyes.
“A bit of a double standard, no?”
“James,” Steve dragged out, frustrated that you’d stopped moving. “Why must you choose now of all times to upset her?”
“It was a simple question,” the dark-haired man said with a shrug.
“The day you seduce someone else, a means to an end or not, is the day I finally drive a stake through your heart,” you calmly told him.
James smirked, brushing his lips over yours.
“Come now, my love. I was only teasing…”
With a devious smile of your own, you twisted your hand into his hair, thankful that he’d never cut it too short, before forcing him onto his back beside Steve. You dragged your nails along his chest, drawing blood and taking great satisfaction in the way he’d hissed. You moved your hips over Steve’s as you leaned over to glide your tongue over his skin, James moaning at the feel. Your teeth ached, the desire to sink your teeth into him strong. Your lips moved against his heaving chest as you spoke.
“I don’t joke about what’s mine.”
tags:  @mcudarklibrary @harryspet @xoxabs88xox @darkficreposter @opheliadawnwalker3 @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @readermia @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @buckybarnesplumwhore @quaksonhehe @nerdygirl8203 @patzammit @mandiiblanche @cocoamoonmalfoy @mrsdeanwinchester19 @ahoemine @9daykrisr​
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Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; breeding; kidnap; isolation; manipulation; abuse; these men are no good, multiple partners, creampie, toys, double penetration.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. It features Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes, as well as OC side characters and a reader. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Synopsis: you meet three cute guys while camping but your trip is delayed when it takes an unexpected turn.
For @boxofbonesfic hot girl summer challenge with the prompts: Girl’s Trip + Breeding kink
Note: The big smut is here. That’s it. It’s Monday, I don’t got much to say.
Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
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Minutes, hours, a day. Time meant nothing in your tortured mind. You kept your eyes shut as you tried not to hear the moans and slapping from the television. When you thought it was over and peeked at the black screen, it started again. The tears dried on your cheeks and rose again when the buzzing of your body and the scene playing before it grew too much.
You shuddered as the heat in your veins flowed and the cool air against your cunt made you gasp. Your palms were sore and marked with the indent of your nails as you balled your fists tighter and tighter. You couldn’t bear it much longer. The need was so raw it hurt. 
You were exhausted just from laying there, writhing against your restraints. The leather dug deeper into your wrists and ankles as you tenses and tugged against them. Your head lolled as you panted and lifted your pelvis off the bed. You should have know they were more than vitamins, but what could you have done?
You whined and the television flicked off. You raised your head and looked around. You waited for the screen to light up again. It didn’t.
The keypad beeped from the other side and the door opened slowly. You dropped your head and groaned through your teeth as Bucky appeared first. You jerked your arms and legs as you tried to escape the straps that hadn’t slipped an inch in the last… eternity.
“I’d say she’s more than ready,” Steve snickered as the door clicked shut, “look at her.”
“You’re animals!” you hissed, “disgusting!”
“Us?” Bucky taunted, “look at you, bitch, snapping and snarling like a pussy in heat.”
“Fuck you!” you barked.
“We’re getting to that,” Bucky kicked the side of the bed and the bounce made you groan, “fucking thirsty, look at her.”
“I hate you,” you whined as a pulse coursed through your body, “why…”
You sniffed as you heard Laila’s voice in your head. You turned your head back and forth as your stomach knotted in revulsion. The worst realisation was that you couldn’t help them as much as you couldn’t help yourself. You were all trapped in this hell and all alone.
“Honey,” you flinched as you felt warm fingertips on your thigh as they crawled around the tender flesh, “just relax, it will be so much easier…”
“Nngghh,” you held in a moan, “I can’t-- you can’t-- please.”
“Buck,” he said tersely as you refused to open your eyes and kept your face aimed away from him.
You heard a low buzz and the silicone tip tickled your clit and forced the air from your lungs. You bit your lip as Sam rubbed the toy along your cunt, up and down your bud and slick folds. He lined it up with the dilator and you yanked at the straps.
“N-n-no,” you gulped and he pushed the toy inside you slowly, the soft rumble radiated through you, “oh… ah…”
You struggled to breath as the storm brewed within you. The vibration was enough to further stoke your need but not sate it. He left it inside of you and took another toy and pressed it to your clit.  You let out a strained wail as your legs tensed against the straps..
You heard a zip and the rustling of fabric, felt the shadows of movement around you as the men worked in silent accord. Footsteps rounded to the other side of the bed and a large hand covered your right one. Your fingers were bent back until you unballed your fist and guided around a thick firm shape.
You opened your eyes as Steve held your hand around his dick and thrust into it. You murmured as your other hand was forced open and you glanced over as Bucky mirrored the other super soldier. You jolted the bed as you tried to break the leather binds.
“Stop, please,” you begged, “you can’t--.”
“Shhh,” Sam hushed as he bent over you and his hot breath tickled your thighs.
You sucked in your breath as he took the flat toy away from your clit and flicked with his tongue. You moaned as he did it again, dropping the stimulator as he worked the dildo inside your open hole. You huffed through your teeth as the pressure welled in your core, ready to overflow.
You groaned and growled as your eyes rolled back and your head lolled. You couldn’t resist the river washing over you as the sensations mingled together. You bit your tongue as you whined, your thighs burned as your muscles strained and you lifted your pelvis against Sam’s face as you came.
You cried out and gripped tightly around the men standing to either side of you. Bucky winced and ripped your hand away as Steve fucked your hand faster. Sam kept his head between your legs as the bed shifted beneath him and shoved the dildo in to its limit. You panted and puffed as you tried to fight the second wave of pleasure as it crashed down.
You writhed as Sam lifted his head and you were suddenly very cold and empty as he slipped the toy out of you. You whimpered and Steve slid himself free of your grasp as the leather on your other hand loosened. Your lashes fluttered as you tried to keep track of the figures moving around you as you were sat up.
The straps on your ankles slackened and you were lifted onto your knees. You felt movement behind you and a warmth seeped into you. Sam’s hands groped your tits and trailed down your stomach. He reached below you and you quivered as you felt his fingers along the dialator.
His dick slid between your thighs and sent a shiver through you. His hand spread across your pelvis as he pulled your ass back against him and you arched your back. He guided his tip to your entrance and glided into you, the ring hugging him snugly.
Bucky climbed up in front of you and sat back on his heels. Sam let you fall forward as Bucky grabbed the back of your head, his other hand around his dick. He urged you down as you clamped your lips shut and his throbbing head met them with a blunt prod. His hand slipped around your chin and he squeezed.
“Open up or I break your jaw,” he snarled.
“Be nice to her,” Sam rasped as he slowly tilted his hips, “or you can go take care of yourself.”
“You’re not the fucking boss,” Bucky squeezed until your gasped and pushed his dick past your lips quickly. He forced you down until you gagged and you slapped your hands onto the mattress.
“You break her jaw and you won’t get her mouth again,” Sam breathed, “fuck.”
You mumbled nonsensically as your hand was drawn over and Steve put his knee up on the edge of the bed. He guided your hand one more up and down his length as your body rocked between the other men. You were dripping at both ends as slobber plastered your chin and cheeks and your cunt clenched hungrily.
Bucky slammed down your throat as Sam gripped your hips and guided your rhythm. The slick noises of your bodies filled the room but you didn’t care as you were encased in stolid lust. You forgot about everything as you focused on another release. Each time you came, the need only grew stronger and stronger.
You coughed as your mouth was suddenly pulled off of Bucky and he held your head in place as he got off the bed. Steve took his place and you were quickly shoved down onto him. He impaled your throat and your body shook as your head spun from the lack of air.
You reached back to touch Sam’s stomach as he sped up, whining around Steve as you wordlessly pleaded for them to slow down. Bucky framed your face as he kept your mouth sliding up and down Steve’s shaft and you dug your nails into the blankets below. The strength drained from you as you hung like a ragdoll between the men.
“Shit, shit,” Sam hissed and sped up, pounding into you so hard that you choked on Steve’s dick.
You felt him cum inside of you as he slowed and emptied himself in long strokes. His fingertips dug into your flesh as he pushed himself into you completely and shuddered. He hummed and eased out of you a little at a time, his cum trickling out of your open hole.
Bucky let your jaw go as Sam sidled off the bed and took his place behind you. Bucky slid through the dilator and you slapped Steve’s muscled chest as he thrust into you cruelly. He hammered against your cervix as he lifted you higher. His flesh clapped loudly and echoed from the corners of the small room.
“Buck,” Sam warned as he sat beside you and pet your head, “honey, you’re doing so good.”
You murmured around Steve and batted your lashes as tears pricked. You should be humiliated but you were so engrossed in the maelstrom that you could only let them use you. Even if you wanted to fight, you knew it was pointless.
Bucky slammed into you as hard as he could and you felt the flood inside of you. He wiggled his hips as he groaned and pulled out of you harshly and dropped you. He bent over your and hooked his arms through yours and dragged you off of Steve. 
He drew you back against him as Steve guided your legs out from beneath you and pushed them around his hips. You saw the cum dripping onto the blanket as Steve lined himself up and inched into you. He rubbed your clit as he got further and further, sighing as he reached his limit.
He kept his thumb on your clit as he stretched his hand over your pelvis, his other kneaded your thigh as he rocked into you. You pushed your head back against Bucky and Sam bent over as he pressed his lips to your temple.
“Look at you honey, taking them so well,” he purred, “hmm, you like that, don’t you? Feel him deep inside you…”
You waved your hand blindly as you closed your eyes and moaned. You hugged Steve between your legs as you contorted in ecstasy and reached back to latch onto Bucky’s shoulder. You tilted your hips so that Steve slid deeper and you growled savagely.
“Christ,” Steve’s hands slid up to your waist and he moved you up and down his length, ramming you down hard so your flesh slapped against his, “oh god.”
He twitched as he came and the muscles in his arms and chest bulged as he bit his lip and snarled. He hammered into you furiously and stopped as your walls milked him. He exhaled and slid out of you, groaning and flinching as his cock bobbed up against his stomach. He chuckled as he sat back and pulled the dilator off him. The ring was shiny and wet cum as you felt the rest leaking out of you.
“I’m almost ready again,” Sam gristled as he stood, “how about you, honey?”
He slapped your ass as Steve flopped onto the bed and Bucky dragged you over him. Slightly soft, the blond lined himself up and pushed you down his length and hands guided your hips.
“Please…” you whispered.
“I might start with the mouth this time,” Sam snickered, “since you made a mess of me.”
Sam got above you and ran his tips along your lips. He kept a hand under your chin as he stood over Steve and you felt a shift behind you. You flinched as Bucky gripped your hip firmly and guided his tip with his other hand. He pressed between your cheeks and past your tight ring.
You whimpered as he pushed against your filled cunt and Steve stilled you. Sam kept dipping into your mouth as you felt the slow stretch. You slapped Sam’s thigh and dug your nails into Steve’s chest as Bucky inched inside of you. Your walls strained around both of them as they slowly began to rock you.
“Oh, yeah, honey,” Sam growled as he pet your crown, “look at you taking all of us like a good girl.”
You woke up stiff and sore. Shell shock was more accurate. The alarm reverberated around the room and made your head pulse. You sat up, naked and sticky with your sweat and other things you didn’t want to think about. You dragged yourself out of bed as the lights flicked on and you stumbled.
“Hands up, against the wall,” the speaker crackled. It wasn’t Sam.
You scowled as Bucky’s voice cut through you but you obeyed. You stood against the wall and groaned as you swayed. The door opened and closed swiftly as your breakfast was left on the desk and clothes on the bed.  You turned around and dressed one piece at a time as your muscles ached with every move.
You went to the chair and sat. You squeaked as your tender cunt met the seat. You stirred the oatmeal as it steamed. There was no cinnamon that day or fruit. You yawned and took a bite of the bland oats. You took a drink of the water and wiped your lips.
“Take your vitamins,” Bucky ordered.
You shook your head and shot a finger to the room. You weren’t doing that again. You weren’t stupid. Those assholes would use anything against you, even your own body. It was bad enough what they did, but recalling how much you liked it, that was worse.
“I won’t repeat myself,” he warned you.
You took the small paper cup and dumped the tablets onto the floor. Silence. You turned back to your bowl and took another scoop. The door opened suddenly and before you could react, your chair was toppling over with you atop it. You hit the wooden back and rolled onto your side.
Before you could get to your knees, Bucky had you by the back of your neck and pushed you back down to your stomach. He knelt down and leaned his weight onto your spine. He picked up the pills scattered around you and used his knee to flip you. He straddled you and gripped your jaw.
“Open up, you bitch,” he sneered.
You shook your head as he tried to push the pills through your lips and you spat them back at him. He growled and his metal hand squeezed until you thought the bone would break or dislocate. He shook his head and closed his eyes.
“No… breaking,” he hissed under his breath.
His hand moved to your nose and blocked your breath until you opened your mouth. He took the pills one at a time and shoved them onto your tongue. He quickly snapped your mouth shut so you caught the tip of your tongue. He covered your lips and you were forced to swallowed as the air was completely smothered by his hands.
He snorted darkly and stood, nudging you with his toe. “Get up or I’ll force feed you the entire meal,” he barked.
You sat up shakily and carefully got to your feet. You lifted the chair and sat again at the desk as you kept your head down. You touched your jaw and throat, his touch still stung your skin.
“You didn’t really think Sam was in charge, did you?” he bent and stirred the oatmeal and held up a spoon of oats, “go on.”
You opened your mouth and took the spoon in your mouth. You cleaned it with your tongue and pulled back. You swallowed and he took another scoop.
“Think of him as… the fluffer, he gets you ready for the big time,” Bucky nudged your lips with the spoon and you parted your lips over it, “and last night, that’s nothing.” He dropped the spoon into the bowl and shoved his hand between your legs. He poked two fingers against your cunt until you gasped, “you’re just a cunt. That’s it.”
“You’re an asshole,” you grabbed his wrist and winced.
“Maybe,” he smirked, “but you didn’t hate me so much when I was balls deep down your throat, girl.”
“You’re disgusting,” you spat and shoved him away. He let you. You knew you were a poor match for him.
“Pot, kettle,” he gestured to you and then him, “hurry up and finished your breakfast,” he went to bed and sat, “you can skip the treadmill today,” his hand grazed the front of his jeans, “I got a different kinda work out for you.”
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