#dark!bucky smut

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the shadow’s soul obsession

kinktober, day five

a/n: extra, extra! come get your nasty monsterfucking, hot off the press!

summary: for the entirety of the rest of the night, you felt as if you were being watched. However, what you mere mortal didn’t know, was that the group of you college girls hadn’t been successful in communicating with any spirits on that autumn eve, but instead had been successful in cracking open a door, just wide enough for a demon to slip through.

warnings: demon!bucky barnes x virgin!reader, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, college au, halloween party, accidentally summoning a demon at a slumber party, bucky needs to "recharge his batteries" via sex (but virgins are the most potent), bad friends, monsterfucking, somno, loss of virginity, blood (just fit this fantasy), slutty demonic magic, kissing, size kink, belly bulge, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay, references to gaping and fisting

word count: 2602

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2024

“So, do you know yet what your costume’s gonna be for the omega kappa beta party?”

“Alice,” you looked to your friend leaning against the opposite side of the kitchen island, “I don’t even know if I’m going.”

“Oh, come on,” her head tilted, “you have to!”

“Yeah,” the blonde to your right then teasingly suggested, “you could go as an angel since you’re already just as sweet and pure as one.”

With each passing moment, the end of October crept ever nearer. You were at a slumber party with a few of your friends, who unlike you, didn’t still live at home with their mothers, but instead in a sorority house on campus. 

The door to the kitchen then swung open and one of the other girls came waltzing in, “hey, look what I found!” she held what looked like a faded board game above her head. 

“Oh my god,” Alice gasped, “is that what I think it is? Where did you even find it?”

“The attic,” she plopped the box down on the table and the lid popped off, letting everyone spot the old Ouija board inside, “so, anyone up for contacting some ghosts or what?”

When everyone around you swiftly agreed in the spirit of the season, you were the only one who didn’t, although the teasing that quickly drowned you, about you being a scaredy cat, pressured you into joining despite your initial fear. 

Most of the girls leaned into your amusing anxiety and made the game more dramatic than it needed to be, taking every chance they got to make you jump in your seat. But none of their attempts rivalled the one towards the end when one of them spooked you so fiercely that your body shrivelled up and a shrill scream tore its way out your lungs. They all laughed at your reaction and abandoned the board, too entertained by the success in scaring you to continue and wrap up the pretend ritual in the proper way.

However, during every second of the eerie game and even ever past that, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, though it wasn’t just because of how scared you admittedly were, as there was someone else, something else, that caused that sensation to bubble up within you. 

For the entirety of the rest of the night, you felt as if you were being watched. However, what you mere mortal didn’t know, was that the group of you college girls hadn’t been successful in communicating with any spirits on that autumn eve, but instead had been successful in cracking open a door, just wide enough for a demon to slip through.

From the second the sliver of him slipped through, Bucky felt drawn to you and instantly became completely and utterly entranced by you. Your soul was so bright and pure it nearly blinded him as he felt himself grow stronger merely from your presence. 

Who would have thought such luck would have been on his side, for with a perfect and potent little virgin like you in his gasp, an entity such as he would be able to restore his full power in no time. 

And when you eventually fell asleep on the couch and he greedily let his spectral touch ghost across your form, sliding off your blanket and coping a feel over your pyjamas, each caress he ravenously claimed felt to him like his lungs once again expanded and filled with oxygen, like he became a little more corporeal and regained just a little bit of his powers the longer and the fiercer he groped you.

Though what he truly needed to regain his full potential, unfortunately, had to wait, as his demonic grip caused you to stir from your slumber just enough for you to roll over into a new position and fall asleep again, never to think more of it than just a light slumber. But perhaps if he kept it up long enough, he’d soon regain enough of his prowess to make sure you wouldn’t rouse no matter what he stole from you in order to return to the grand demon he used to be. 

The home you returned to the next day was just as empty as expected with only a kind note stuck to the fridge as an echo of your mother, reminding you that she wouldn’t be back from her business trip till far into the coming week. 

When darkness fell upon the town and the moon rose up high in the sky, you went up to bed and swiftly drifted off into sleep. 

As Bucky leaned down over your slumbering form, he smiled as he let a finger trace the edge of your face before he bent down and pressed his lips to your own. 

Now, it wasn’t just a kiss he gave you, but a fiendish hex that forced your frame to keep on sleeping, no matter what, until the sun once again crested over the horizon. 

“As much as I’d love for you to wake up and have you witness everything I’m about to do to you,” he brushed some of your hair out of your face, “we can’t have that,” his broad thumb briefly stroked your cheek, “at least not yet…”

Ripping the duvet off, he watched as goosebumps rose and dotted your skin from the chilly night air, how your nipples turned into pebbles beneath your thin nightgown. 

While his consuming gaze raked down your form, his grasp pushed your sleepwear up and let it bunch around your hips, granting him a view of how the cotton of your underwear moulded around your soft centre. 

A smirk twitched at the corners of his lips as he let himself drift back down, closer to your slumbering frame, “let’s see if we can fix this little problem…” before he pressed a hot kiss to your covered core, briefly running his split tongue over the fabric as the effects took hold. 

When he tilted back, it wasn’t just his own saliva that now drenched your panties, but also your own juices as he had successfully scrounged up enough of his power to force your pussy into a state of desperation, making it extraordinarily leaky and sticky with cream and quite literally drool for him. 

With a primal growl, the throbbing between his legs swayed him to dig his grip into your underwear and tear them off, tossing the shreds off to the side before he spread your legs wide. 

Enclosing his fist around the base of himself, angry and flush in his grip, he offered himself an ouch of relief as he stared down at you.

“Hell… what I wouldn’t give to hear you moan and scream for me… to see fear arise in your mortal eyes at every little thing I’ll offer you… but that’ll have to be another time… can’t have you wake up and ruin the ritual…”’

As he rubbed his fat cock against the mess he’d made of you, he couldn’t help but smile at the staggering difference as his unholy length weighted down upon you, making you look so tiny in comparison, so easy for him to just break. 

“Would you beg me to stop? Would you cry about how big this devil dick is? Whimper about how you couldn’t possibly take it, not even if you weren’t a pure little prude? Yeah, you probably wouldn’t even be able to take it then…” a dark chuckle then crackled within his broad chest, “good thing I don’t care,” before he ruthlessly slammed his cock inside, stretching your poor pussy out beyond belief. 

He let out a deep moan at just how incredible you felt around him, how he had to strain himself to work past your strangling tightness and bury himself completely in your haven. 

“Oh, well would you look at that…” a sly smile crept up on his lips as he glanced down at how you struggled to take him and spotted the tinge of crimson that stained his fat girth as he momentarily retracted, pulling out just till your cunt only clung around the bulbous head of him. His digits floated down to swipe some of your virginal blood up onto the pads of his fingertips before he brought them up to his lips and groaned as he let himself taste your ruined purity, letting himself regain even more of his vigour, “you are just fucking perfect…”

As he let his frame drift down closer to you, he draped himself over your slumbering form as he thrust mercilessly into you, watching you closely at the way his efforts caused you to writhe and tremble in your sleep.

Nibbling at your neck, his lips wandered further down as he ruthlessly rutted into you, splitting you open like the savage monster that he was, and eventually sank his sharp teeth into your shoulder. 

With a low growl, he pushed himself back up, though even as the movement threatened to let his colossal cock leave the warm embrace of your tiny hole, his hands roughly found your hips and brought you back down onto him. 

“Fuck…” he lifted your hips off the mattress and made your back arch obscenely as he used you like a toy, “you’re such a little whore and you don’t even know it yet…” his possessive grip dug into your hips so fiercely that his nails drew blood and left angry scratches in their wake. 

His black eyes then found the dull bulge that rhythmically appeared in your lower belly at each and every one of his thrusts, “can’t wait to see how you react when you wake up tomorrow morning, all sore and swollen, wondering why you’re so sensitive. If only you knew that some big bad demon followed you home and tortured your pussy all night long…”

Perhaps his brutal fucking had forced your slumbering form to orgasm more than once, though it was hard for Bucky to ignore it when you came this last time as you squirted all over his fat girth. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he chuckled and kept up his ruthless rhythm, never pausing once as he made your gushing pussy give him each and every drop, “I knew it was true that virgins pack the most powerful punch for us unholy folk, but damn…” he slammed you down against him hard enough for his bullying tip to bruise your cervix, “you’re even better… I might just have to keep you after this…”

And when he soon tumbled over the edge and pumped your little pussy full of his demonic seed, his ethereal form flickered till it wasn’t at all ghostly any longer, till his full power regenerated and he now sat on your bed clear as day with his spent cock limp against his thick thigh and horns protruding from his temples. 

Briefly, he swept his broad hand up your stomach before it scooped down to where you leaked with his essence. 

“Look at you,” he pushed two fingers into your mess and pumped his hot cum that much deeper inside of you, “you’re still so fucking tight…” he struggled to force another thick digit in beside the others. As his cock began to twitch and swell once more, he quietly groaned, “guess that just means we aren’t done yet… you might have helped me with my little problem, but this ain’t over,” he tried and failed to slip his picky finger in beside the rest, “I haven’t finished breaking you in yet, little human,” his free hand found himself in silky strokes, “I won’t stop till you’re fucking gaping for me, till I fit my whole fist up in here,” his thumb quit its attempts at sneaking inside and instead extended up to crudely strum your puffy pearl, “till you’re utterly ruined and completely perfect for me…”

The bassy music rumbled the entire frat house like an earthquake as you leaned over to whisper to Alice that you’d be right back from your libation location mission. 

Though when you stumbled into the kitchen, the crooked feathery wings on your back brushing against the doorframe as you passed, a loud sigh escaped you as your eyes scanned the various bottles lined up on the messy counter and discovered them all to be empty, “argh, seriously?”

That was exactly what you needed. 

To be at a wild Halloween party without any alcohol in your system to make the obnoxious people more bearable and make you forget how you’d rather just go home and try to sleep as none of your efforts all weekend had granted you any ounce of rest, only left you more exhausted than the day before and bizarrely enough also making you sore in the oddest of ways. 

But then as all hope seemed lost, a voice echoed from the corner of the kitchen, “hey, you like tequila?” and you glanced up to see a man in an elaborate demonic costume holding up a full bottle for you to spot. 

“Thank you,” your tense shoulders dropped slightly as you offered him a smile and stepped closer, “though I don’t know if an angel like me should accept a drink from a devil like you,” the joke slipped out of you as you neared him. 

As a bright grin crept up on the man’s lips, he light-heartedly squinted down at you and played along, “hm, yeah, you’re probably right. We demons are an untrustworthy lot. But, I am your only chance at getting drunk and numbing these dumbasses out,” he seized a plastic cup and began to twist the cap off, “so, what do you say?”

“What’ll it cost me? To make a deal like that with a devil?” you kept up the gag, “just my soul or do you want my firstborn or something?” 

Naturally assuming that the handsome stranger was still just joking around, you saw him smile as he poured you a drink and uttered, “oh, your soul will do just fine, sweetheart.”

As he handed you the cup, he joined you as you raised the hard liquor up to your lips, taking a sip of his own straight from the bottle, though he somehow didn’t make a face like you did when the harsh booze poured down your throat, in fact he didn’t even blink as he tipped the bottle back and kept his intense stare glued to you.

“Your costume is really amazing,” you complimented as you let your gaze wander over his burly frame, “your coloured contacts? And those horns? I’ve never seen prosthetics as good as those before.”

You thought the flattery would have pushed him to elaborate, but instead, the mysterious man just murmured, “thank you,” and didn’t entertain the subject any further. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” you uttered and noticed the few grey hairs that faintly speckled his scruff, “are you a professor?” 

“No, I’m not,” he shook his head.

A shiver ran down your spine as his stare continued to stay glued upon you, “then what are you doing at a frat party? No offence, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you just look a bit too old to be a student. Not that you couldn’t be, maybe you are–” 

“I’m not a student,” he cut you off, “I just haven’t been feeling that well lately and the person who helped me get better is here, so that’s why I went out tonight, to this college party of all places, to thank her properly and hopefully make her all mine…” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[eccentricallygothic]

When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm. 

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now. 

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor. 

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door. 

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress. 

Not that they would be doing any more of that. 

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you. 

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible. 

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.  

His eyes scan your form. 

Beautiful. 

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time. 

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete. 

It is the people that live in it. 

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal. 

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly. 

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night. 

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life. 

You should have taken notice of the signs. 

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem. 

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was. 

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence. 

And Divine it was, you lived to learn. 

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything. 

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened? 

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning. 

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second. 

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside. 

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly. 

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen. 

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?" 

He sighs. 

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval. 

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions." 

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close. 

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this. 

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back. 

The man is not chasing you like you expected. 

But you don't want to stick around and find out why. 

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door. 

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead. 

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes. 

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused. 

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying. 

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently. 

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one. 

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet. 

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home. 

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands." 

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that." 

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet. 

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone." 

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours." 

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery. 

But you don't know when he does it. 

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern. 

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse. 

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules. 

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes. 

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point. 

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?" 

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning. 

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days. 

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man. 

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep. 

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way. 

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him. 

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him. 

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.  

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day. 

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck. 

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina. 

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever. 

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well. 

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test. 

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence. 

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic. 

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast. 

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken. 

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat. 

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting. 

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment. 

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining. 

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you. 

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–" 

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy. 

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while. 

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully. 

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape. 

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed. 

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife. 

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

.

What do you think hAH-

[highonmarvel]

Ribs

Bucky Barnes: Mob!Bucky finds you. 18+ only.

additional content warnings here!

CONTENT WARNING, PLEASE READ: This piece includes graphic depictions of domestic violence. Seriously, this is really dark; do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with explicit descriptions of physical and verbal abuse and rape. This is your warning. This is fucking dark. I can not stress this enough. I am fucked up.

Non Con Warning!

What’s scarier than dating Bucky? Leaving him.

You thought with dating the most notorious mob boss in New York, the biggest danger would be his enemies, no: the biggest threat to your safety was him. When you had first met him, you hadn’t known who he was, having only moved to New York a few months prior. He was charming, and he had an air of danger about him you couldn’t help but be attracted to; you thought it would be fun, a New York bad boy, he was all mysterious. You didn’t have any friends at the time, so no one could have warned you about who he really was, and by the time you found out, you were in too deep.

Maybe him being suspiciously rich should have raised a red flag, because even the most pretentious of the wealthy don’t take a limo to a bar, but he had, that first night you met him. The loud chatter had ever so slightly dimmed when he entered the bar, but you only thought it was because he was wearing an expensive suit, and though you rolled your eyes at the flashy display, you couldn’t help but stare at him as he made his way through the room—crowds parted, everyone tried to appear that they hadn’t noticed him, but it was crystal they had. You can’t not notice a man like that.

He disappeared into a back room with two men trailing behind him, and after a few minutes emerged looking slightly disheveled, but satisfied. You tried your hardest to focus on… something else when he sat down beside you and ordered a whiskey, but that was practically impossible when everything about him was magnetic. You chanced a look at him only to find him already staring at you, blue eyes twinkling with a mischievousness you couldn’t quite place and a small smirk. He had taken you home that night.

You hadn’t fled because of his business, selfishly, you could live with the fact he hurt other people—for a while, you could live with the fact he hurt you too, because he just had you captivated. He was harsh, brutal, but could also be loving, he bent over backwards to your every desire—say the word and he’d do it.

Except when you asked him to stop.

You had to leave New York altogether, you knew; he ran the whole fucking city, there was no way you could hide from him in the kingdom he ruled. You had struggled to pick where to go next, if you had had the money, you honestly would have left the fucking continent, started a new life in Namibia or Australia or Japan or however far away from him as you could get, but for now you were restricted to the States. Was Los Angeles too big a city for him to find you, or was it too obvious? Maybe he had people there, you had no idea. Would a small town be too quiet to scream for help, or so obscure he wouldn’t even think to look there?

You settled on a random town in Colorado.

You had ditched your phone the second you could—you had had to hold onto it a bit longer in order to get around, and received many calls and angry texts, but you had tossed it into a street somewhere in Oklahoma and picked up a random brick phone just to have. You thought you were being dramatic at first, taking all these measures, but no, James Barnes is the most powerful man in New York state, more powerful than you could have imagined when you first discovered who he was. He runs everything. He always gets what he wants, and he wants you.

I’ll find you you fucking cunt.

His last text message to you before you had destroyed your phone. You didn’t doubt he could.

You cut your hair, dyed it a shade darker, and spent the first month looking over your shoulder, jumping at shadows, barely speaking to anyone, unsure of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, even from so far away you remained cautious. Picking a job was difficult; if you got an office job, could he find out through fucking white collar records or something? If you got a job in retail, would someone recognise you and alert him?

You got a job at a bookstore—fairly quiet, and the rows of shelves seemed like good enough hiding places were he to hunt you down. Hunt.

In front of the mirror, you pull up your t-shirt to examine your ribs: the bruises are starting to fade, and there’s only a dull pain when you run cold fingers over the light blue. The final reminders of the night you had feared for your life, the night you had decided you had to leave, were starting to fade.

Bucky had gotten violent many times before, but never had you feared for your life; you genuinely thought he was going to kill you.

He had come home fucking livid like you’d never seen before, and three months later you still have no clue as to why. At least when he had been drinking his blows were slightly less hard and you were sometimes (very rarely) able to outrun him and lock yourself in a bathroom for the night, but that night he was drunk purely on anger.

You were genuinely surprised he hadn’t broken your ribs; just hit after hit until you could barely breathe—you thought you’d suffocate. Turns out he had fractured your right foot, but even still you left New York limping badly, knowing if you stopped even to just get it checked out, you’d never make it out the city.

Here, in your new town, you got your foot checked out and fixed up by a friendly doctor, Dean, who you’d taken a liking to. Though it was a bit worse for wear considering you’d left it unchecked for a week, and even now you still couldn’t walk quite right, he assured you you’d make a full recovery.

Dean and you had been growing closer, and you thought he would eventually ask you out, until one day he stopped visiting you at work—usually he’d come in every Wednesday afternoon, but he hadn’t, and you couldn’t reach him online. You even went into his practice, but his assistant had said he’d just taken a camping trip. Your stomach twisted, but you left it, and took he had just gone away for a while.

Deep down, you knew.

The third Wednesday afternoon Dean hasn’t dropped it. You walk back to your place a little down; despite not knowing him well, you were really growing to like him.

You sigh, kicking off your shoes as you enter your apartment and into the pile by the door. You turn on the lights as you make your way through the small place, still limping slightly: corridor, light on; kitchen, light on; living room, light on.

You can’t even say your blood runs ice cold, more like it freezes in your veins.

Bucky is seated comfortably in your armchair, of course nursing a drink, face entirely stoic, and eyes fixated on yours, as if he had been staring at that exact spot for hours, knowing you would fall into his line of vision.

But the door was locked, you want to cry, How did he get in? No windows are broken, nothing.

“Sweetheart,” he coos as he sets his drink on the side table, “I’ve missed you.”

“Why?” is all you can muster, barely a whisper, more like a nearly silent whistle in wind, one you can only hear if you were to really strain for it, and if you knew what to listen for. Why is he here? After three fucking months, you thought (hoped) he’d just lost interest—this can’t be the first time he’s had a girl run away from him considering how he treated you. Why is he so set on this? You can only imagine it’s stubbornness and pride, not wanting to lose a prize, no matter how ill he treated it. And why you?

Of course, though, you can’t articulate any of these thoughts, you can barely even think them, can’t process them, all turning to a light buzz in your in your mind, one that could be mistaken for pure static—just absence of thought. No thoughts, all thoughts, you can’t even care about.

“Of course I missed my favourite girl,” he offers, a lopsided smirk forming on his handsome features, “Sit,” he instructs, so gently you wonder if you’ve imagined it—a very direct order (and you know he doesn’t like to be disobeyed), yet delivered in the softest manner.

The bruises on the right of your ribcage sting as you stare back at him, unmoving. Bucky never repeats himself, and he doesn’t now, seeming to overlook your defiance (though really it’s shock) as he leans forward slightly and begins speaking to you.

“You’re a smart girl, I can tell from how you really tried to cover your traces when you left, huh? You’re a smart girl, so why would you do something so stupid?”

He stands, and you stumble back with a whimper at a harsh misstep on your injured foot.

“And now you’re out here all alone… you need someone to take care of you; look at you, honey,” he gestures to your foot, and if you could get your vocal chords to work, you would scream at him that he did this.

He stalks towards you, and where the sudden adrenaline comes from, you have no idea, but you dart for the front door. He’s on you in a second, slamming your head against the door and watching you slide down. He stands over you a foot on either side of your body and looks down on you, slightly amused.

He’s pure evil.

It occurs to you the front door is locked anyway, you’re caged under him in the narrow corridor, and so you try to crawl through his legs, but he turns and grabs you by your injured foot.

You shriek in pain and desperately try to claw forward, but he tugs you back and twists harshly so you have no choice but to turn over or risk him twisting your fucking foot off.

With more strength than you’ve ever mustered, you swing your left foot up and kick him hard in the crotch. He howls in pain as he drops your foot.

“You fucking bitch!”

You scramble to stand and dart for your bedroom, hoping to climb out the window. He limps after you, and you cry out as he grabs a fistful of hair and tugs you back. You manage to stumble into the bedroom. He grips the doorway and you slam the door after him, hearing a deafening crunch and a yell behind you. You push your back against the door, planting your feet firmly in the ground and trying with all your bodyweight to keep him out, but he easily blows it in, and you fall forward.

You start screaming at him and kicking, but he catches your legs, leaving you to only pathetically wiggle underneath him. He leans down and shouts, “Shut the fuck up!” bringing down a hand you feebly attempt to grasp to stop him, but he slaps you, “You’re a fucking cunt!”

You assume you’re crying, but you can’t feel anything on your cheeks but the sting of his hand.

He drops down to his knees and straddles you easily, despite your struggling against him. He punches you in the face, his rings leaving deep cuts against your cheek. Again, and again, and again, until his knuckles are bloody from the cuts he’s left. You attempt to cough but he brings a fist down and punches your throat. You can barely gasp before he grabs your neck and pulls you up close to his face.

His voice is dangerously low as he drawls, “You’re lucky I have the decency to fuck you on the bed.” He spits in your face and slams your head back down into the floor. He gets off you and, before you can even move, kicks you in the ribs; you can feel the bruises—the healing bruises, they were healing—bloom once again against your skin, against your bones. You roll over before he grabs your left arm, twisting harshly and pulling you across the small room.

You feel your shoulder pop out of place and scream louder than you ever have in your life, an intense white hot pain shooting across your shoulder as it’s dislocated. You can’t even beg him to stop through your sobs and unbearable pain, you can’t breathe, you want to throw up.

This time, you almost wish he does kill you. You wish for him to kill you.

He pulls you up onto the bed, your shoulder blade sliding further across your nerves and sparking pain as intense as the first few seconds all over again. He tosses his suit jacket to the side as you try to sit up. He presses down hard against your injured shoulder, and you choke on your own cry, suffocating more than screaming, at this point.

He punches up from your chin and your head lolls back, your teeth hitting each other harshly, before he uses the opportunity to grasp your throat with one hand, tearing your skirt off with the other.

It’s too painful to struggle other than weakly kicking your legs, which he effortlessly ignores, maybe he doesn’t even feel it.

Mind over matter, Mind over matter, Mind over matter—

You repeat to yourself when you hear him spit in his hand and softly groan as he runs his hand up and down his cock. You don’t even know when he unbuckled his belt.

You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing; Mind over matter, mind over matter, mind over matt—

He head-buts your forehead, effectively pulling you out of your attempted mental respite. Bucky is scary; he looks down at you with wild eyes, and you hadn’t noticed blood dripping from his temple. You briefly wonder how much blood you’re covered in when he interrupts your thoughts; “Stay with me, bitch.”

“Please stop,” you finally find words rather than shrieks, your voice hoarse and words slurred, like you’ve never spoken before.

He just smiles—smiles—and then thrusts into you, stretching you open, not giving you any time to adjust to his massive length before pounding into you, beyond rough, beyond violent, he’s a fucking mad man, he’s feral. You attempt to grab onto his shoulders and pry him off but your own shoulder hinders you. You weakly punch at him with your right hand, but he doesn’t feel it, and at this point, you’re just exhausted. Throat hoarse, head aching, shoulder burning, foot in pain, and your ribs on fire.

He lets go of your throat and feels around on the bed for his jacket, pulling something out of the inner pockets.

Before you can even process it, he places his other hand over your mouth and presses something cold and metal to your knee. He fires the gun, the bullet flying from the front of your kneecap, shattering the cartilage, and resting in your flesh. He presses down harder on your mouth so your scream is completely guttural.

“Try leave me now,” he pants as she shoots out your other kneecap.

He presses the gun to the right side of your rib cage, digging into the bruises, “Next time you leave me will be in a fucking body bag.”

Ribs (II)

✪

[kaismasterlist]

|| Bliss ||

Description: What happens when a spoiled and disgraced Princess is handed off to an ex-Winter Soldier as a strategy for the royal family to be rid of her and ensure the Soldier's loyalty to them at the same time?

Pairing: Dark Ex-Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes | Brat Princess!Reader.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Bucky Barnes. This series contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Dark themes that vary from chapter to chapter.

Status: Complete.

Chapters:

I

II

III

IV

V

[steves-sub]

Submissive Sunflower

Summary: While Team Cap hides from the world, they take you in to be their permanent submissive, whether you like it or not.

Warning(s): Dark!Team Cap, MINOR DNI Smut, Non-con, Hypnosis, Dom/Sub, Drugging, Kidnapping, will add more later on.

MASTERLIST

Prologue

the Flower Shop Invite

Time for Action

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Dark!Bucky B. NSFW A-Z

This is a Yandere oneshot! It is DARK! That’s the entire point so if you don’t like that then don’t read it.

There are some mentions of abuse, kidnapping and Dub/Non-Con!

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat!

A stands for AFFECTION: how would they show affection?

•Bucky would bring you all kinds of gifts when he comes home from work

•Flowers, Chocolates, cute stuffed animals, soft warm pajamas to repel the cold mountain air and a plethora of blankets

•He's also a very touchy person whether you like it or not, his favorite thing is to snuggle up with you in a nest of the blankets you have

B stands for BLOODY: how bloody are they willing to get for their object of obsession?

•As bloody as he needs to get

•You don't leave his cabin ever but the one time that a ranger came upon you outside the cabin Bucky guided you inside before getting rid of him and ensuring no one would ever know about you again

C stands for CRUELTY: would they ever hurt their object of obsession?

•Bucky works hard at training you to be what he wants in a wife and when you fight him he can get very upset, he will more often than not take you over his knee and spank you until you're ass is bloody or on occasion lock you out of the cabin in the rain or snow

D stands for DARLING: would they cross their object of obsession's limits?

•Bucky will push you as far as he needs to to achieve his desired effect

•He doesn't want to hurt you but he won't let you refuse him or pull away and if he needs to fuck you back into submission he absolutely will

E stands for EXPOSED: how much do they expose their own feelings to their object of obsession?

•After he locks you in he will pour out his heart and soul, you will know exactly how much he loves you

•He doesn't hesitate to tell you what he wants and needs from you as well as what he can give to you

F stands for FIGHT: how would they react to their object of obsession fighting back?

•He won't take it well

•Bucky needs you to love him too, he's put so much work into making his cabin perfect over the years for his future wife so you can be alone together, you not showing him your appreciation would push him a bit too far

•He will spank you but if that doesn't work he will lock you out in the rain

•His last resort is sedating you. He will do this when you get too worked up and he needs you to calm down but it also allows him to have to help you do everything because you're so doped up

G stands for GAME: do they think this is just a game?

•In no way is this a game to James Barnes

•You are his everything and after all he has had to suffer in his life, he deserves you and you deserve to be cared for. He doesn't play games when it comes to his perfect little wife unless of course you're feeling playful and you want him to chase you. That's his favorite game because he always wins and his prize is getting to fuck you in the middle of the woods

H stands for HELL: what would be their object of obsession's worst experience with them?

•Your worst experience was probably your third night with him when you tried to get away the first time. It was pouring rain and you didn't yet know how far you were from civilization

•Bucky caught you trying to open the locks on the door and decided if you want to be outside then you will. He tightened and locked a collar around your neck with a magnetic strip that you could never remove without him and chained you to a tree outside

•You we're out there for what felt like hours to you in the freezing cold rain but what was probably only an hour all together. Your screaming for him died down as you began to lose your strength and he came to get you a few moments later, frozen to the bone and unable to talk. He changed you after getting you warmed up in a shower so you didn't get hypothermia and he held you for the rest of the night, his ungodly hot body thanks to the serum being a blessing for the both of you as he warmed you up so well and he finally got you to snuggle into him all night long

I stands for IDEAL: what are their plans for their object of obsession?

•He plans to make you his housewife

•James Barnes had wanted a normal life before being drafted, he was a ladies man but he wanted to find a cute dame and settle down, give her a good life and provide for his family while his women kept the house clean, made dinner and took care of him and the children they were going to have

•He never got that and he's determined to have it now with you, you'll eventually settle into your roll and be his sweet little wife and bear him children

J stands for JEALOUSY: how they react when jealous? Do they get jealous?

•He often got jealous when he asked you about your life before and you told him about past relationships but other than that he has no reason to be jealous, there's no one else around

K stands for KINDNESS: how they act around their object of obsession?

•Bucky loves and worships you, when he's in a good mood and you haven't upset him he dotes on you and it would be something you loved very much in other circumstances, and you will grow to love it as you grow to love him...or at least as you develop Stockholm Syndrome which you can practically feel your brain giving into in those sweet moments

•You learn after the first 2 weeks of fighting that it's not worth it, he's a super soldier and you are never getting away. You may as well just do what he wants and bask in the sweet worship of the man who loves you

L stands for LOVE LETTER: how would they approach their object of obsession?

•He took you the moment he met you

•And he didn't so much 'take you' as kept you since you walked up to his cabin in the woods when you got lost

M stands for MASK: how different are their public persona from their true selves?

•Bucky is a hero now that he works with The Avengers and people know him as the sweet, sort of quiet gentleman who's best friends with Captain America

•Only you seem to know how terrifying he can really be or how romantic and dramatic he can be

N stands for NAUGHTY: how would they punish their object of obsession?

•Spanking mostly, he's only locked you outside twice and you never tried to get away again since the first time, especially since it’s winter and you don’t want to risk losing toes

•Other than that if you fight he will happily keep you medicated if that's what you need to learn your lesson, it’s only more fun for him to take care of you when your stoned and snuggly

O stands for OPPRESSION: how many rights would they take from their object of obsession?

•Basically everything

•All you know in the world anymore is him and that's how he wanted it

P stands for PATIENCE: how patient are they with their object of obsession?

•Not very patient at all

•Bucky wants you to learn fast and be the house wife he wants

•He shouldn't have to say things more than once

Q stands for QUIT: if their object of obsession died or escaped, would they ever be able to move on?

•Died- He would be a recluse. He would remain in the cabin and bring flowers to your grave everyday

•Escaped- He would catch you. You're in a remote cabin in the middle of nowhere and Bucky knows these woods better than anyone but the animals, you are never going to get away

R stands for REGRET: would they ever regret harming their object of obsession? Would they ever let them go?

•Bucky doesn't want to hurt you, hurting you is just a means to an end

•Once you are trained and obedient, Bucky will be happy never having to hurt you again

S stands for STIGMA: what made their yandere tendencies bloom?

•Bucky had been hoping for a good little wife for a long time and when you showed up, hurt and admitting no one knew where you were, it was too perfect for him not to jump on the opportunity

T stands for TEARS: how would they react to their object of obsession crying/breaking?

•Bucky has no desire to see you cry

•If you're crying after a punishment then he will let you cry it out but if you're crying for another reason, missing your family or something like that he will absolutely hold and comfort you

•Even though you've been trying to get away from him he was very comfortable and warm, he comforted you in a way you never had been in your regular day to day life and he could tell how much you liked it when he was soft with you, Bucky knows that's how he's going to win you over

U stands for UNIQUE: something different they would do compared to others yanderes.

•Bucky keeps you with him isolated in a cabin in the woods where you have no chance of seeing anyone again

•The one Ranger that happened upon you he made sure would never see the light of day again and no one has come since, you will never be found even if someone was looking

V stands for VICE: what weakness their object of obsession could use against them?

•One thing Bucky wants more than anything is to get you pregnant

•He wants you barefoot and pregnant in his cabin and once you catch onto that you try and use it to your advantage, teasing him and wearing as few clothes as possible knowing seeing you like this makes him happy and he's less likely to punish you for whatever it is you do wrong that day

W stands for WIT'S END: would they hurt their object of obsession?

•If he has to hurt you to keep you in line then he will

•Whether that's locking you outside in the rain or snow, or letting you hurt yourself when you try and run from him, or drugging you up, either way he'll take care of you after but you're going to learn

X stands for XOANON: would they worship their object of obsession?

•Bucky loves you with everything he has and he will never let you go

•Once you’re pregnant Bucky will worship the ground you walk on, you will be the most cherished and protected person on the face of the Earth

Y stands for YEARN: how long would they pine after their object of obsession before they snap?

•Bucky takes you immediately the moment he meets you

•From the second you show up in his cabin he will never let you leave him

Z stands for ZENITH: would they ever break their object of obsession?

•He wouldn't let up until you give in and give him what he wants

•After a few months you realize you’re never getting away and you begin to give in quickly, finding out that if you do what he wants and tempt and flirt with him he will go much easier on you and begin breaking you down as you start to enjoy his loving, gentle moments

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

[earlgreydream]

🍓 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝟒. || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐰: 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐯𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐮

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫! 𝐈 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡! 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤-𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠-𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

As hard as Bucky tried to nurse you back to health, you’d been sick for days, dehydrated and burning with fever, unable to keep anything down.

“Babydoll, look at me,” Bucky spoke softly, stroking back your hair as he sat on the edge of your bed.

Your lashes parted just enough that his blurry face came into view, a migraine pounding in your head. Your fingers gingerly slipped over his, your lips trembling as Bucky gently squeezed your hand.

“My friend Steve is a doctor, he’s going to come take a look at you because I think you need some medicine to get better. We’re not kicking this bug on our own,” he tried to speak quietly, praying that you wouldn’t panic like the last time he’d mentioned a doctor.

“Please no,” your whimper was barely audible, eyelids unable to stay open from the exhaustion the illness had wracked on your body.

Bucky sighed, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He’d already called Steve, the only confidant he could trust with you — to come see about your afflictions. He was scared, seeing you so weak and fragile and a shell of yourself, frightened Bucky into realizing how delicate you were.

.

You stirred as Bucky slipped from the bed, going to answer the door. You were too miserable to even react, the only indicator of your fear being the increasing heart rate. The bedroom door opened gently, Bucky’s friend Steve following him in after a few minutes of hushed discussion.

“Hi, bunny,” the blond man spoke softly, a beard making his face appear gentle as he knelt beside you, Bucky watching anxiously.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you used all your strength to shy away from the hand that reached out to touch your face, unfamiliarity striking terror into you. Your few months with Bucky had trauma bonded you, the only thing scarier than him was someone else.

“Please, don’t be difficult. He’s not going to hurt you, Steve only wants to help,” Bucky promised, pulling you to sit on his lap, the vibranium arm snaking around your waist.

“D-don’t let him hurt me,” you begged into Bucky’s neck.

Steve’s hands were gentle as he felt your fever, his fingers gently massaging your throat to be sure nothing was swollen.

“Gonna press on your stomach, okay? Tell me if it’s uncomfortable. I’ll be real gentle, I promise,” Steve spoke softly, a gentle patience about him that was so dissimilar to Bucky.

Warm palms pressed to your stomach, making you feel like you were going to throw up the little bits of bread and soup you’d had.

“Don’t!” You gasped, spasming against Bucky, pulling your knees to your chest to protect yourself.

“Baby-“

“It’s okay, it’s alright. You’ve definitely got a bad strain of the flu, darling,” Steve diffused Bucky before he could reprimand your outburst and uncooperation.

“I’m going to give you some antibiotics, okay? After a couple days you should feel like a new person. For now though, you’re pretty dehydrated and that’s contributing to how awful you feel. I need to give you an IV and put you on a saline drip to get some fluids in you,” Steve explained patiently, his cornflower blue eyes never leaving yours as he spoke.

“You said he wouldn’t hurt me,” you whispered to Bucky, shrinking back against his chest.

“It won’t be bad, just a quick little pinch and it’ll help you feel so much better,” Bucky promised, one hand rubbing your back, attempting to soothe you.

“You can be good for us, can’t you? I know you feel icky, but I promise I’m going to help,” Steve tenderly touched your cheek, before retrieving an IV needle from his kit.

You laid your arm out, fighting back tears as Bucky held you still, letting Steve stick you as gently as possible. His heart ached at your pained whine from being stuck, hurt in your eyes as he taped the needle down, hanging a bag of fluids beside the bed.

“M’freezing,” you mumbled as the cold seeped through your veins, coupled with your fever to leave you trembling against Bucky’s warm form.

“Here,” he wrapped a fuzzy blanket around you, helping you settle against him, trying to talk you into a nap while you hydrated.

Bucky smeared kisses over your forehead, helping you drift off while Steve went to get some antibiotics for you. The house was quiet, freezing rain coming down on the roof in a rhythm that kept you drowsy.

You didn’t remember Steve coming back, just waking up to him easing the needle out and wrapping the injection spot. He gave you the first dose of the antibiotic, and Bucky informed you that he’d been staying to oversee your recovery.

“Daddy,” you sighed, your skin clammy and sticky from sweat as you sat up.

“I want a bath,” you requested once you earned his attention, wanting to be clean.

Bucky helped you up, frowning at the way you were unsteady on your feet, dizzy as you sat down on the edge of his bathtub, patiently waiting as he filled it with water.

“Can I wash your hair for you?” He asked, catching you off guard.

It was one of the first times he had asked what you wanted, offering himself instead of forcing it upon you. You nodded, not wanting to lift your sore arms to scrub your scalp.

Bucky carefully washed the grime from your hair, careful not to get any water in your eyes. His strong hands massaged your head as he ran the detachable faucet over it, getting all the soap and conditioner out.

His movements paused at your brief sigh, though he relaxed when he saw it was because his touch felt good, and was entirely wanted by you.

“I’ve got it,” you whispered, taking the loofah and cleaning your skin while he leaned on the counter and waited.

“Once you’re down again, I’ll make you some toast. Do you think you can keep it down?” He questioned as you sat on a stool in front of the mirrors while he toweled your hair.

Your affirming hum was enough for him, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, so tender you almost forgot about the reality of your relationship.

“I’ll go start it, leave you to dress. Steve is working in my office if you need anything from him. I’ll be in the kitchen,” Bucky squeezed your waist before disappearing, letting you get dressed by yourself.

You found warm pajamas and socks, still bitterly cold despite Bucky’s attempts to keep the house warm in the winter. He watched as you entered the kitchen, pressing the button to turn on the kettle for some tea.

“I’ll get make it for you, go rest,” Bucky’s tone was gentle, though an edge of sternness hung in his voice so you didn’t argue.

You kissed the Star on his arm, sending a painful twinge through Bucky’s heart. He watched you slip around the bar into the open living room, putting on one of your soothing movies to doze in and out to.

With your sickness, he’d gotten less strict about you using the television, unworried about you being upset when you put on something quiet that ended up putting you to sleep a couple times a day. Young magicians casted spells on the television, bad CGI of the early 2000s adding to your coziness, and before your tea and toast was finished, you were barely awake.

“Try to wake up and eat for me, bunny,” Bucky helped you sit up on the couch, smiling at your sleepy yawn.

“I feel a little better after my bath and being hydrated,” you confessed as you sipped the tea and nibbled on the toast.

Bucky relaxed, tying your hair up and playing with the hem of your pajamas. His warm hand slipped under your shirt, rubbing your back tenderly. He looked up when Steve entered the room, leaning in the doorway, watching the two of you.

“You’re starting to look a little better,” he broke the silence, walking over and feeling your still-warm forehead.

“All I want is to sleep,” you confessed, your eyelids heavy.

“Drink the rest of the tea first. You need to stay hydrated. Daddy’s taking good care of you,” Steve hummed, exchanging a look with Bucky.

You forced the last couple swallows of lukewarm tea down, before dragging yourself to your feet.

“Your bed?” You mumbled, and Bucky frowned.

“I’ve got to work late tonight, I don’t want to wake you coming back to bed. Sleep in your own bed and get a good nights sleep,” he held your face, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose.

You were too tired to protest, satisfied when he handed you the stuffed rabbit that you curled up with when you weren’t snuggled into his warm body. You’d gotten used to sleeping next to him, safe from any unknown threats that lurked in the dark. The sound of the wind frightened you, your body remembering what it felt like to nearly freeze to death, anxiety only satiated when you were curled up against the space heater of a man.

“Steve is staying?” You questioned, uneasy that Bucky would be working, letting Steve unsupervised in the house with you.

“Yes, he’s here if you get to feeling icky again.”

Your eyes locked on the blonde that towered over you, his broad body nearly as thick as Bucky’s. After a moment of reading your expression, Bucky understood that anxiety was woven in your features. You didn’t trust Steve yet, afraid of everyone who wasn’t your savior.

“I can work from my laptop in your room until you fall asleep,” Bucky offered a compromise, knowing he couldn’t rush you into being comfortable with Steve.

You nodded, relaxing as he settled down in the rocking chair at the foot of your bed, standing guard while you slept off some of your sickness.

.

“People are looking for her. They’re playing the missing persons ads on the news,” Steve spoke over a cup of coffee, alone with Bucky in the kitchen long after you’d gone to bed.

“Even still? It’s been months. They usually give up after seventy-two hours,” Bucky sighed, shaking his head.

“That’s what you get for snatching a Stark.”

“She’s better off with me. She was mistreated, and the Starks have a world of enemies. Here she is safe and loved,” Bucky glared until Steve soothed him.

“I know. She’s perfect, she’s lovely, I’m just saying, they may come looking here eventually. How long are you going to hide her in this house? At some point, you’ll have to assimilate back into real life.”

“She’s still not completely attached, but it’s getting better.”

Bucky stood off the counter he was leaning on when you walked in, offering an arm. You sank into his side, his vibranium prosthetic wrapping around your waist as he smeared a kiss over your forehead.

“The weather is nice today. I think some fresh air would do you some good,” Steve broke the silence, and you froze against Bucky.

“It’s too cold,” you mumbled, shaking your head.

“Darling,” Bucky’s voice was surprisingly soft, and he reached over and grabbed a blanket for you.

Steve handed you a hoodie, pulling it over your head and smiling when the sleeves fell over your hands. Bucky lifted you effortlessly, carrying you outside to the front porch, where a white swing hung overlooking the garden. The last bits of snow had melted off the ground, promising spring soon, but the air was still crisp.

You shivered as you wrapped the blanket around yourself, settling onto the swing and inhaling the clean air. The sun was warm on your face, bringing life back into it that made Bucky breathe easy again.

“I love you,” Bucky’s eyes locked with yours, and you slowly leaned in and kissed him.

“I’m going to keep you safe,” he promised.

“I know.”

[buckyscombatboots]

I Wanna Be Yours❦

Part 1: Snap out of it

Part 2: Arabella - Coming soon

One stop off of heaven masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, infidelity, reader is the side piece, hurt, brief mentions of childhood friend!Bucky, no happy ending (sort of), reader is used, no aftercare, all hurt no comfort, p in v, rough sex, hate sex, doggy style, hair pulling, slapping, biting, allusions to reader being infertile (can be ignored :))

Nicknames: My girl, whore, slut, Sweetheart, buttercup

WC: 4K

The Happier version: My Girl -Coming soon

A/N: This is the angstier version of the fic ‘My Girl’ and is the actually original version of the fic and more truly embodies what I was feeling when writing them both.

A/N: Ive been gone for a really long time (like almost 3 months) and I’m really sorry I’ve been extremely busy, because as a lot of you know I’m doing a PhD right now. Anyway, this is part of a series that I’ll hopefully finish when I’m not so busy. I also have a few requests to finish. Love y’all 💕

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭🎀༺

You both laid in the middle of the hotel bed, your head nuzzled into Bucky’s chest as you held him tight, taking in the smell of him like it was the last time you’d ever be able to. Your mind burned as you broke down every note of his scent; Magnolia, vanilla, leather and petrichor. You chanted it like a recipe in your head, begging yourself not to forget it. Just in case you ever had to recreate it when he was gone, it was inevitable after all—It was reality, this world you had both created in this room was no longer tangible. Someone was going to find out, or they had already—and to make him keep risking it, running around with you at night. It couldn’t continue, the thought of it ending made your throat tighten and a smell similar to pva glue fill your nose. It burnt as you blinked the tears back. Even as you squeezed him tighter, closer, it felt like he drifted further and further away; you could just feel it. He was distancing himself from you mentally and now physically, to make it more bearable for you both; so that he could lessen the pain, but little did he know the more he moved away the more it hurt, the more your heart shattered into tiny, little pieces that you’d inevitably be left alone to pick up. You wondered if you’d ever be able to repair your heart, or if it had shattered so much into such minuscule pieces that trying would be futile.

You had one final night with him and here you were, spending it cuddling him trying to suppress your tears. You didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes if you shattered, if you showed how much this little love affair truly meant to you. You loved putting up the tough, emotionless bitch act but you couldn’t. Not now. Not if it meant letting him go, never feeling his rough hands trace your every curve, never having him to kiss every scar, never being able to hear his deep, silky voice. You didn’t give a shit about the sex, no matter how mind blowing it was. You just wanted him to stay, you’d become celibate if it meant he’d stay. You’d do anything. But you weren’t “his girl” no matter how many times he whispered it to you softly or made you scream it as he fucked you. You just weren’t his. Not in the eyes of the law and not in the eyes of any of your guy’s friends. She was and you hated her for it, you hated the nice girl who brought you ‘Welcome home’ cookies, who comforted you when you were crying, despite not know you were mourning your chance with her husband, the sweet, beautiful, perfect girl that would one day give Bucky the sweet, beautiful, perfect family he’d always dreamed of. You hated that you hated her, it felt immoral, this all felt immoral. But she had what you wanted; him. She had him wrapped around her tiny, wicked…pretty, well manicured finger, it was wrong of you to force him into this—Bucky had always been weak to you and you used that against him. You made him cheat, but deep down you knew a part of him liked it. He was just like you after all, he was broken and a collector—but instead of things you both collected bits and pieces of others and saved them up inside you, it’s what made you both feel whole.

His arm that had been laying flat under your head shifted, he ran his fingers through your hair, rubbing slowly circles on your scalp, caressing the base of your skull with his warm palm. His touch was too much, you didn’t deserve it. That’s what broke you. The burning in your nose got too much; tears began to stream from your eyes like water from a broken faucet and the knot straining in your throat gave way to heavy sobs as you scrunched the material of his shirt in your fingers “What’s wrong sugar?” He asked indifferently, but you couldn’t answer. The embarrassment from letting your walls finally fall in front of him and the pity you had for yourself, that you detested, jammed your throat. You tried to open you mouth to speak, to tell him it was nothing or that you’d had an awful day at work, you’d always been quite sensitive, he knew that, so the excuse of being yelled at in front of everyone at work would probably work, but no matter how much you tried to summon the words you couldn’t speak. The frustration just made it worse, the warmth from your emotional outburst and his natural heat made it hard to breathe. You pushed away from him, finally distancing yourself. But the implications of your action just intensified your blubbering, you felt like a child as you collapsed in front of him.

Bucky pulled you closer even as you tried to fight him off. You kept your face hidden behind your hair, but he started to peel it away from your damp cheeks. “There we go I can see you now.” He let out a halfhearted nervous laugh, smiling. His smile. Your chest tightened painfully, even through your drowned vision, the full intensity of his welcoming smile hit you like a pile of bricks. “What’s wrong, sugar pea? You can tell me, it’s just us.”

“I can’t- can’t tell you”

“Why not? We’ve know each other since we were kids, you can tell me anything.”

“You’re gonna- you’re gonna hate me.”

“I could never hate you. I’ve seen do a bunch of things and I’ve never once hated you.”

“I’m in love with you.” You blurted, your hands scrambled to your mouth covering it in fear of more words spilling out unchecked. The room fell silent and you heard Bucky’s breathing stop short. You’d ruined everything. Your whole chest ached as your heart beat ramped up, slamming against your rib cage, your ears ringing as the precious Eden you’d created with him began to crumble and rot. Neither of you said a word for what felt like forever, then he slowly pushed you away from him and he rose from the bed slipping on his shoes. “Wait, no don’t leave please.”

“You just had to go ruin it didn’t you? It’s like your specialty.” He turned to you sweeping his hand through the air as he spoke “ Y/N professional ruiner.” He scoffed as he returned to tying his laces “I mean God! You had one job! And it was to lay there and not talk, but you just had to open your mouth.” Every single poisonous word that fell from his tongue knived you.

You held onto his back trying to pull him back into bed “No please, please don’t leave me!” You cried, hardening your grip as he tried to stand.

“You’re so pathetically lonely, you always have been.” Bucky pushed you into the bed, holding your hands above your head as he glared down at you “You’re just like a dog you know that? A creature that can’t survive without its master. That’s what you’ve made me isn’t it? Your master. Well I can’t be anymore, the little doggy needs to realise that she can’t keep forcing people to be in her life, dragging people into her misery!” As he berated you you sobbed, trying to turn away from his scrutinising, to cover your ears. He was right, you were dragging him down into your misery. You were pathetic. You were harming him and his life by existing. “You know what? How about, as a parting gift, we do it one final time? Give the bitch what she wants? Would that make you happy? Would it finally fill that gaping hole inside of you?”

You nodded tearfully, gnawing down on your bottom lip to stop sobbing. It didn’t stop anything. In fact it just made the helpless feeling inside you fester.

He began tearing your clothes off, tugging at your shirt harshly making it catch your ear as he yanked. You resisted the urge to yelp, you didn’t want to anger him further. He tossed it carelessly and gave you a light slap on your cheek before squeezing your face in the palm of his hand. “You’re so pretty when you cry.” He let out a dark chuckle as he scrunched your face “You are pathetic aren’t you? I can’t believe it took me this long to realise just how pathetic you truly are. You can take off your skirt can’t you?” You whine out a yes and start to undo your skirt, but your eyes are drawn to Bucky undressing above you. You watch the muscle under his slightly tanned skin stretching and tensing as he removes his clothes. Once he was nude he looked down at you expectantly, catching your wander gaze with a stern scowl “Why are you still wearing clothes? I just told you to take your skirt off. Do it.” You scrambled to unzip your skirt, fiddling with the zipper. Bucky tutted, grabbing the sides of the fabric and tearing it apart “Simple.”

More tears filled your eyes as he yanked off your panties. You closed your eyes and thought back to the other times you were together in different hotels, how gentle he was as he stroked the soft flesh of your thigh and nibbled at your skin, whispering promises and praise as he approached your core. He’d stretch and tease you till you begged him for more and even then he’d be so very careful as he entered, pressing his skin against yours as much as possible just to feel even closer to you.

A searing pain shot through your scalp, making your eye shoot open, as he pulled your hair wrapped around his strong vibranium fingers “Face down, ass in the air.”

“Aren’t you going to prep me first?” You asked sheepishly, your voice not going above a whisper.

“Why the fuck- No. Just do what I told you to do. I’m hard, I want to fuck you.” He scoffed, clearly tired with your constant hesitations and questions.

Hesitantly you sat up and presented yourself to him, hoovering your face above the pillows. He pushed your head down, your heart jumped, fear blooming in your chest; for a brief moment you thought he was going to suffocate you, the reminisce of his smell on the pillows filling your lungs. He released your head, you lifted your face from the pillow slightly “Stay down.” He ordered sternly, sounding bored as his dripping tip pressed against your entrance. You did as he said, lowering your cheek back down on the cheap fabric of the pillow case; you began fiddling with the cream coloured fitted sheet, rubbing the fabric between the tips of you fingers. Waiting. Then you felt him push into you, a searing, stretching pain tingling through every fibre of your being as his thick shaft parted your walls. You weren’t as wet as usual, you weren’t as ready as usual, you were afraid of him in this moment. More afraid than you’d ever been in your life. “Fucking tight. God no wonder I keep coming back to you, it’s this pussy. It’s like silk.” He sheathed fully inside of you, ramming his weeping tip against your cervix.

“Ow! Buck, slow. P-please.” You requested timidly, stuttering out the last part fearfully, feeling a sense of uneasiness churn your insides.

He guffawed in response, leaning his head down to rest against your arched spine. Warm puffs of air made your hairs stand on end as he laughed at your request. Finally he rose back up, swiping a tear from the corner of his eye “Last time I checked whores don’t have much of a say in how their clients fuck them. Lay there and look pretty, moan for me, scream for me, but for fucksake whatever you do just don’t talk. You’re driving me crazy.” He pulled out in one Swift motion before slamming himself back inside, relishing in the cry that left your lips “I’m gonna use your little slut hole and you’re gonna thank me for it aren't you?” His voice deepened as he asked, changing his pace from long and brutal to shallow and fast. When you didn’t answer he slapped your ass harshly and clawed at your back leaving painful, searing red streaks “I said. You’re going to thank me, aren’t you.”

You choked on your tears as you answered, managing to croak out a very quiet “yes, Bucky.” Before burying your face back into the pillow in embarrassment from the sound of how ruined your own voice sounded. You took a deep breath in, taking in the lingering scent of Bucky’s cologne. Magnolia, vanilla, leather and petrichor. You chanted the list of fragrances, hoping it would carry you away to a better time. But the sound of his grunting, the sound of his skin colliding with yours and the painful, heavy sadness weighing on your head was too much for you to think back to the past. You were trapped here, under him as he ruthlessly pounded into you.

You felt his once loving cool, metal hand snake around your throat squeezing tightly, you began to choke spit flying from your mouth onto the already tear dampened white pillows “The one good thing about you is you feel so much better than her and you let me do whatever I want to you. You let me choke you.” Bucky gave your throat two strong squeezes before removing his hand to allow you to breathe “she- ah squeezing again? God I’m gonna miss this tight cunt. She’s so vanilla, only missionary, no blowjobs and I practically have to beg her to let me eat her out. But you, you’re a little whore, you'll do anything as long as I pump you full of my cock.” As he finished talking Bucky slammed his hips into your ass, watching it jiggle at the force. He craned his neck down and bit the supple flesh, grinding his teeth and licking the mark before returning to his thrusts, slapping your ass just to hear you yelp. You squeezed him even tighter every time he slapped your ass and with each moan and cry your voice sounded more and more ruined, you hated that even when he was treating you like dirt your body responded to him and he could draw this much pleasure from you.

The gradual heat that had been rising within you was becoming unbearable and the moans you have been trying to silence we’re now impossible to silence “That’s it. Scream for me.” A deep, guttural moan escaped from his open mouth, his hand on your hip growing stronger, to the point that you could feel bruises sprouting “Fuck. So close. So goddamn close, I need you to milk me with you tight hole.” Bucky’s metal hand moved away from you head and slipped underneath you, gathering your slick and fiddling with your clit with his thumb.

“Ahh! So good! So good, Buck!” His hand that was holding your hips buried itself in your hair before he yanked it at. You screamed in response to the burning in your scalp

“I said no talking you fucking whore!” You sniffled in response, feeling your release draw nearer. You pushed back against him choking out a moan as you came on his cock, your walls pulsing and squeezing around his twitching length. Bucky rammed into you a few more time with uncoordinated thrust, believing out a loud “Fuck!” As he painted your walls white. A whimper crawled from your throat as he pulled out; you could feel his seed leaking out of you. Bucky flopped down on the bed next to you pulling a few tissues from the bedside table to clean himself. An awkward silence permeated through the room. Not once after having sex with Bucky did you feel dirty, but today you did. You felt an indescribable urge to get home and scrub yourself till your skin bleed to even hope to remove the icky, gross feeling spread across your skin.

Slowly you lifted your head from the pillow and carefully laid down on your back, wincing as you reddened bottom came in contact with the quilt. You laid there staring at ceiling, tears making your vision swim. Bucky’s rough hand entwined with yours; he squeezed your hand twice and swiped the pad of his thumb across your knuckles tenderly “She’s pregnant. I thought I should tell you. She's gonna give me that family I’d always dreamed of.” The words that were crawling up your throat died, you died. Your body went rigid at the word, pregnant. Of course she was pregnant. The word made you sick, it made you jealous, it made you a crucible of contempt boiling over a bunsen flame—you were going to explode. “We'll, aren't you going to say anything? I’ve been wanting this for a long time. I thought you’d at least be happy for me.”

“Congratulations.” The voice that came out didn’t sound like you, It sounded robotic, metallic and forced. But that was all you could manage, if you said anymore you might snap and strangle him or go kill her. You hated yourself for hating her. But it didn’t make the nagging belief in the back of your mind that it should have been you. That it was destined to be you. He was yours, you were his. It was meant to be you at the altar, meant to be you telling funny stories at your wedding about how you were childhood friends that went to high school and college together, who both had brewing feelings that you both kept suppressed and when you finally both got the courage to confess you had to move for work, but destiny made it so you would both reunite and jump at the chance to confess. It was meant to be you.

“Thanks.” His tone was bitter “ I can stay a bit longer, but I’ll have to leave soon. She’s waiting for me after all.” He cuddled you close, stroking your hair, probably imagining you were her. Had he imagined you were her this whole time? Was it that painful for him to fuck you?

The amount of thoughts racing in your head made you want to step outside into the chilly night air to cool down, but now was your final chance to be with him and you weren’t going to waste it. You ran you hands across the corded muscle of his back, drawing soothing circles just like he used to do for you when you couldn’t sleep. When sleep made your eyelids heavy you barely put up a fight, you welcomed sleep with open arms, you wanted to be freed from the bleak, harsh reality and enter into a dream world where she was you. Yeah that sounded good.

“Bucky?” You called groggily. There was no reply. You crawled over to his side of the bed, it was still warm, and peered over the edge. His shoes were gone and so were his clothes. You laid back on the bed, your eyes catching sight of a torn bit of paper. You grabbed the paper and unfolded it, your hands trembling as you read it ‘I don’t want to see you anymore, please don’t bother my family. - James’ You read the words over and over praying they would change into another message, but it didn’t work. It only made the pang in your chest throb. You scrunched it in your hand as you curled up into a ball trying to disappear as you soaked up the shadow of his body heat, the memories of him that were lingering in that shadow—high school when he sat with you behind the bleachers in the rain and gave you his varsity jacket to warm you up “I’m your portable heater at this point.” He jested, letting out his signature low husky laugh that made you melt, college when he held you from behind as you cried into your pillow about your college senior boyfriend who dumped you, because he was graduating; you could still feel the phantom of Bucky’s warmth whenever you were sad thanks to that day. The day he stroked your hair and whispered into your ear that “He didn’t deserve you.” And that he’d “never make you feel like this.” Well he had so many times, he was right now. But it hurt even more now, it was over for good. You’d lost him, you were too many years too late and now you were just clutching to fleeting memories, but God if the feelings didn’t sting every time you thought about him. It was hard not to, he’d dominated every significant moment of your life. But now you were barred from his perfect little family.

Slowly you unscrunched yourself from the ball you’d folded yourself into, spreading your body out like a starfish drying out on the beach. Your throat was scratchy from crying and your eyes were heavy and swollen. Everything hurt, but simultaneously you were so numb.

You thought of showering, you thought of searching through your bag for some pain meds, you thought of driving your car off the bridge back to the city. You thought a lot, as you laid there staring at the yellowed patches on the popcorn ceiling from water damage.

You thought so much and so hard that you didn’t even notice you’d started crying, again, you were drowning in your emotions. You were huddled in a lifeboat slowly filling with water, with no sight of land. You were waiting for him to save you, but he wasn’t coming back “I wanna be yours. Just wanna be…”

A disembodied voice continued “Yours. Secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought.” The sweet sound of the man’s singing stops “I thought we were gonna sing together, sweetheart.” There was a soft knocking on the wall next to your head “No more crying okay? Guy was a dick anyway.”

“Who are you?” You questioned, sitting up and pressing your ear against the paper thin wall

“A person who’s also been left out to dry, a person who also needs someone to stop me from drowning. If you want some comfort I can come over; we can just lay here, Y/N.” The way he said your name brought back so many memories, you knew who he was

“Ari?” You asked hesitantly, the man who Bucky said didn’t deserve you all the way back in college was on the other side of the wall. He’d listened to everything. You wanted to evaporate.

The door knob of your room jiggled and then the door creaked open. In the doorway was Ari, droplets of rain trickling down his skin. He dipped his head down so he didn’t hit it as he entered your room, his brown hair was a bit longer than it was in college, his beard a bit fuller, he was much more muscular and his chest was more hairy; but for the most part he was the same, he even still had the same crotchety, yet solemn look on his face “Hiya, Sunshine.” His voice was low and soothing, as if you were the finest China that he was worried about shattering. He closed the door gently and walked over to the side of the bed, crouching down to try to make his bearish figure smaller and less daunting “Long time no see. didn’t think the next time I’d see you would be in a shoddy motel, but life is nothing if not unpredictable, right?”

Tag list: @alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @addie5587483 @flamefoxxrecs @adoreyouusugar @teambarnes72 @wintasssoldier @gryffindorqueensworld @aerangi @taramaria @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @teddybearsgrr @raajali3 @godesslaura @alma13-blog @cevansgurl @sojuxxi @aerangi @itwillgetbetter @bean-is-reading @emi11ie @cjand10 @sweetwrathoflilith @royalwriteroftheuniverse

[late-to-the-party-81]

D

E

A

D

!

don’t fence me in.

summary | Your lonesome birthday celebrations are disrupted by two super soldiers on a mission.

warnings | Noncon turned dubcon sex, violence, drinking, breaking and entering, dark themes, smut, praise, choking, knifeplay but not really, threats, vaginal sex, anal sex, double penetration, threesome, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, nipple play, Captain kink, Sergeant kink, authority kink?, manhandling, +18 ONLY.

pairings | Dark!Stucky x reader, Dark!Bucky Barnes x reader, Dark!Steve Rogers x reader.

word count | 3,842 (i went overboard lol)

authors note | happy birthday @threeminutesoflife!! i hope you have a wonderful day, and i hope you have a wonderful day. mina, god damn it where do i start? your dark!neighbour!steve fic was one of the first dark fics i ever read, and it was amazing! you’re an amazing friend and your sense of humour is to die for. you’re one of the most talented writers i’ve ever met and to be honest i always end up re-reading your fics. ilysm, happy birthday!! (this isn’t the best birthday note i’m so sorry, i just woke up!) also i’ll add the keep reading break later!

Keep reading

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

Hi! Hope this is ok and got a nsfw idea

What if werewolf steve x vampire reader x vampire bucky

Y/n was all alone ending up entering their turf. They dont wanna end her noo . They wanna keep her as their mate

a/n: you sent this yumminess to me last night literally minutes before i fell asleep, then i couldn't stop thinking about it so i wrote it while eating breakfast lol

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“Oh, honey…” you heard Bucky purr as he teasingly let his fangs graze across your neck, “I’m older and thereby stronger than you,” his cock throbbed against your bottom as he kept his hold tight, holding your wiggling frame up far above the ground, your back against his chest and keeping you in place for the lycanthrope before you, “so you might as well just stop struggling.”

Slick symphonies accompanied Steve’s movements as he attempted to stuff the big knot at the base of his already intimidating length inside your cunt. Each thrust of his hips gradually grew harsher as he tried needlessly to plug it inside, though still without success, your pussy only drooling from his ruthless efforts though still not able to let that part of him into your warmth. 

“Or not,” Steve then smirked as he lowered his fingers to smear more of your messy cream against his bulbous base he so fiercely desired to feel inside of you, “I think it’s kinda fun watching you try.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Beauty ||

Summary: When Nick had said he would love you in every shape and form, you hadn't thought much of it and had laughed it away… Oh...

Pairing: Soft Dark Mobster!Nick Fowler | Wife!You.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Nick Fowler. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Soft Dark!Nick, dubcon, filthy trash that's been crushing me for some long days, primal kink (? Omg I don't know he basically forces you to grow out your hairs because idk okay?), humiliation, dacryphilia, taming, power imbalance, captivity, spanking, fingering, oral (reader receives it), boob play, angsty-ish, breeding kink. Basically mobster husband Nick worshipping you in his own twisted way.

Note: Coping with my genes through this story and I am not sorry. All mistakes are mine. Feedback is much appreciated 🩷

MASTERLIST

You bit your lip and sucked in a harsh breath when you heard the door open and then close. Sucking in a deep breath, you felt your heartbeat speed up as your whole body turned rigid. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The clicks of his Italian shoes against the wooden floorboards of his harm proof house got louder and louder until they were a few feet away from you. 

"Where is my favourite little savage?" Your jaw clenched at how he cooed his words, fist choking the duster you were cleaning the furniture with, back still turned to him as you willed him to disappear. "Beastie~" he called out again, this time more condescending, in that disgusting mock-disappointed tone of his, "now, you know what happens when you disrespect me with this kind of behavior."

Your head dropped along with the duster at his words. Oh. If only you had heeded your best friend's warnings and not dated this sick man. If only you had known just what kind of a disgusting and hopeless dynamic awaited you at the end of it. If only you had caught on in time.

Though you weren't sure a man as powerful as Nick Fowler would have stopped at taking no for an answer. 

He probably would have taken you as though you were a possession he was entitled to anyways. 

Maybe you were always supposed to end up here. 

"Come on, now, beastie. It's been 2 whole days, didn't you miss your husband, hm?" One that you had been fooled into marrying. "Come here and show me that pretty face like a good wife that's happy to see her man."

You blamed yourself more than anything. 

How did you not see this coming? 

Resolving to succumb to your role as his primal little wife that he had forced you into being, beating (strictly only your ass or boobs) and fucking every one of your refusals out of you every time you tried to stand your ground, you slowly spun on your heels. 

Not like your body put up much of a fight whenever he did.

He knew all your weaknesses. 

"Ah, there she is~" you walked to him with your head lowered and covered with the long hair that he had made you grow out. "Let me see that beautiful face" his voice was almost demanding as his fingers wrapped around your forearms. 

A whimper left you at the feeling of his warm fingers. You hated your traitorous body that always submitted to his touch. But he was the only physical or human interaction you had been confined to for a whole year now. You had been alone in his huge house for 2 days now as he had gone off for a business trip, leaving you with food and your rule list which included chores to ensure mobility, Nick had promised to be back home exactly at this time today. 

He had harm proofed the house a long time ago to avoid any incidents. All the food that you two ate was delivered to the door by his men that you weren't allowed to answer as you never wore clothes because Nick liked you best in your natural state and also because he could not bear to see you attend to anyone other than him.

"Oh hello, little heathen~" you knew he purposefully used these words to irritate you and to express his power over you. He knew how much you hated them. But you had no choice. Any kind of rebellion or display of annoyance would lead to a disciplining session, as he called them. 

Beautiful little beasts like yourself need to be disciplined before they can be introduced into society. 

Though he never would.

He was far too selfish.

"Fuck, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you, beastie~" moving your hair out of the way, he cupped your face with both his hands and kissed your soft unibrow. Your face burnt in humiliation as you tried to move away but he restricted you by the vice grip one of his hands formed on your chin. "How do you do it?" His fingers caressed the soft fur on the top of your lip now, pecking your mouth a couple times. "So natural," it was your chin now. "So primal," the kisses peppered down to the valley between your breasts, his stubble much stiffer than the soft mat of hair between your boobs. "All mine" his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close and latched his mouth onto one of your nipples. 

"Nick~" you had intended it to be a protest but it came out a needy whine. You hated it. How wet your powerlessness to his rules regarding your body and appearance made you was something that repulsed you. A moan left you now as your fingers snaked through his short hair, the man's body slowly guiding yours to the couch behind you two as he took his sweet time praising and enjoying your breasts. 

You would never admit it. But how he worshipped you in a form you would never have allowed yourself to be in did unexplainable things to your body. What you found embarrassing and even unattractive was the epitome of true beauty to him was astounding to you. 

Sure, he was condescending about it sometimes but that was only to either get a rise out of you to make you slip into his little games or when you would clench harder around him when he would call you humiliating names. 

Fuck. You hated it. All of it. 

"Look at these pretty little fat fuck handles" a loud moan escaped you when he harshly spanked one of your now well pampered boobs, ass perched against the rest of the couch. "So perfect." The noises of the suckling of his lips as he painted the skin of your chest with marks of his love was loud as one of his hands spread your legs. "Gonna fuck them full of milk one day."

You bit your lip in embarrassment as you visualized through your closed eyes how your bushy core must be looking. 

"Would you like that, beastie?" Your hole clenched around the air at his words. "I bet you would. Finally serving your natural purpose..." His words were so wrong. "So pretty and round you would be." A shaky whimper escaped your mouth when his hand cupped the curve between your legs, fingers toying with the hairs before they reached your pussy lips. 

"Nick…" Your voice was full of desperation, pussy dripping against your will. But he worshipped you so well. And at your worst, if you would say so yourself. 

He smirked as he kneeled your legs, kissing the older love bites and marks, one hand still greedily toying with your chest like it would disappear if he let go. "Did this bearded clam miss me?" You absolutely hated him. 

"Ni-ck…!" What had started as an agitated protest morphed into a gasping moan when he prodded your desperate entrance with the tip of his thumb. 

"Sounds like it did" your face burnt hot as he pressed wet kisses along your marked thighs, leaving soft bites occasionally as his thumb teased your wet folds, the squelching noise loud in his otherwise quiet house. "Don't know why you pretend to hate this when all I wanna do is love you." His lips had finally reached your petals, nose burying in your bush as his hot breath caused your core to tingle. "At least your body gets it."

A loud moan fought its way out of your mouth when he swiped his warm tongue across your flesh in a vertical motion, the suddenness and sensitive state of your pussy causing your back to arch. "Nick!" Your fingers tugged at his hair and he took it as a cue to push one of his fingers up your leaking entrance. 

"Fuck, still as tight as the first time I fucked it dumb. You're just perfect, aren't you?" His husky voice and the warmth of honesty in his words added to the pleasure. God, you were such a narcissist. That had to be it. 

"Nick…" Your hips started to sway to assist the rhythm of his slender digit. "Please…" You requested as you looked down, pulsating with need as the darkness of his eyes made you clench around his finger. 

He had such a way of making you feel like the smallest thing ever next to him. 

So naked. So exposed. So vulnerable. 

"You want more, my heathen wife?" You desperately nodded along to his condescending words, whining and biting your lip when he teased your flesh with a kiss, the stubble around his lips teasing and tickling your sensitive core. 

"Yes, Nick! Please, more!"

He added another finger to your slippery cavern, feeling his cock stiffening in reaction to how tightly your hot ring of muscles choked his fingers. "Such a slut" Nick tortured you with his kitten licks and kisses. "Always acting so high and mighty, pretending to hate this, but leaking like a punctured whore needing a cock fix whenever inspected." Your toes curled as his fingers stimulated your walls, lips sucking at your clit. "You can play games with me all you want, beastie." Your husband's voice was muffled against your cunt. "But you know you love this."

Whenever you were close, like right now, you would end up saying the most vile of things that both he and you would chastise you for later. It was always unintentional, but whether truthful or not was something you dared not ponder over later. 

"I do, Nick! I do!" You sobbed from the pleasure, back arched as you looked like a literal Goddess, if Nick said so himself. "Please, Nick!" His fingers lapped at your folds, fingers fucking you fast and rough, now allowing you time to adjust and clench as his blue eyes watched your perfect form darkly. 

Your skin was glowing from tiny droplets of sweat under the daylight coming in from the windows, natural and unplucked eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and concentration as your teeth dug into your bottom lip, the upper one trembling just a little as the soft fur atop it adorned your features in a way so beautiful and unique that he could bet it was only limited to you. How your breasts that were the perfect size and shape trembled with tremors due to how you fucked yourself against his fingers while your gorgeous thighs trembled. 

Nick moaned against your pussy, the action causing vibrations of pleasure down your spine as one of his hands palmed his cock and eyes enjoyed the sight of your pleasure drunk body, lewdly moving against his own. Like a snake in water. 

Fuck. 

You truly were the most gorgeous thing to ever come into existence.

"Nick!" The way you said his name alone could easily tip him off. And the way you hissed in pleasure, praises and thanks forcing their way out of your mouth that he loved to do the most vile things to cause an ache in his balls. Your pussy clenched around his fingers and maintained their hold as you exploded, throwing your head back as you cried out his name over and over, chest heaving as your vision blurred. 

"Fuck, I missed you~" you whispered through the ringing of your ears, pushing him back and against the floor with the heel of your foot as you launched yourself on his clothed form, rubbing the rest of your orgasm out against his thigh. 

Nick smirked as one of his hands squeezed your ass cheeks. "Ah! There she is! My primal little whore-" you shut him up with a rough kiss.

You had a lifetime to antagonize over your actions. But it would be a damn shame to waste this pleasure that was melting your insides into a puddle.

Was it so bad, really? All the man wanted to do was to protect you and worship you. In this moment, you were ready to assure anyone that worse existed out there. 

[highonmarvel]

You Can Cry

Bucky Barnes: Biker!Bucky takes a liking to a sensitive girl. 18+ only!

content warnings here!

You wipe away tears as you impatiently wait for your ride to arrive, tapping your foot and hugging yourself. You don’t know why you always get so emotional, get brought to tears so easily, and your sensitivity slightly angers you, being irritated that you still cry like a child at the most silly things.

Your date had only laughed when you stared at him blankly, asking him to explain his joke again, and the rational part of you was sure he didn’t mean any harm, the rational part of you was sure it was lighthearted—he was a nice guy—but still you felt that familiar sting in your eyes at the response.

Even when you brought the night to a close, you refused a ride home from him, denying it so harshly he was stuck at the table for a bit when you stormed out, hot tears staining your cheeks, and you didn’t see him leave—maybe he was still inside and talking up another girl who didn’t take every little thing so personally.

“You sad, pretty girl?”

You startle at the voice and snap your head up to follow the sound, leading your eyes to a tall man wearing a leather jacket, leaning against the wall of the next building over to the restaurant you had stomped out of. He cards a hand through his hair and steps forward, and instinctively you step back, feeling an air of danger about him, darker than just a mugger in the night.

You wipe away the last of your tears and sniffle softly before quickly bring your focus back to the street, mentally pleading for your driver to pull up, too scared to fish your phone back out of your bag to check how far he was, and clutching your purse tighter.

He groans, “Please, sweetheart, I’m talkin’ to you.”

“No,” you reply, quietly, not making a move to look back up at his captivating blue eyes, a slight fear that if you look back at him, you’ll never be able to look away again. Or he’ll be the last thing you see, “I’m not.”

“You sure, princess?” he takes another step toward you, and this time you can’t muster up the courage to move away, frozen still, “Looked like you were cryin’.”

You grow irritated not with him but more with yourself, for somehow having shown such weakness to a man in the shadows—but how could you have known?

“I wasn’t,” you lie, finding yourself holding back tears again, begging any higher power out of the dozens believed to help you out just this one time and have your driver pull around the corner. The streets are empty and quiet, the only two people in the world you and him, and the only noise his painstakingly slow footsteps towards you, and your rapidly beating heart, “I wasn’t,” you repeat again, predicting you would sound more confident, but your voice cracks, and you wince at the sound of his sigh in response.

“Aw, don’t cry,” you gasp as he suddenly pulls you flush against his chest, caging your body to his with his right arm pressing into your lower back and his left gently gripping your chin, forcing you to look up at him. A smile spreads across his gorgeous face as your tears well up. You want to look to the sky to stop drops from falling, but you can’t, not because of his light grip, but because of that sadistic glint in his eyes, absolutely fascinating you.

A drop spills from an eye, and he tilts his head, watching it roll down your cheek. Your eyes glisten with tears and his glisten with delight, relishing in each drop that rolls down your cheek, as you can do nothing but stare up helplessly at him, paralysed by fear.

He leans down and presses a light kiss on your cheek, one you might have found loving if given to you by someone close.

“You’re so pretty,” he remarks, bringing his other hand up to cup your face, unconcerned with keeping you near, knowing you can’t move if you tried. He rubs calloused thumbs across your cheeks, wiping the tears away as he admires your features, “So pretty, doll,” he murmurs, gaze roaming your face until they land on your terrified eyes, and he smiles again.

“What? Never learned how to take a compliment, princess?”

You blink up him, starting to tremble very slightly, your mouth slightly agape. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you manage a meek, “Thank you…”

“Bucky,” he mumbles.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you repeat, just wanting him to let you go, at this point completely disinterested with where your driver is, just him to leave you alone.

“Now, won’t you tell a nice guy like me why you’re cryin’? Did someone hurt you?”

You shake your head weakly, willing yourself to just stop fucking crying.

“Don’t lie to me,” he grips your face slightly firmer, not hard, but enough to make you understand his determination, “Did some guy make you cry, angel?” he asks, gently.

Despite your better judgement, you nod; maybe that is the best judgement, to just respond the way he wants so he might just leave you alone. No, your compliance is only seeming to spur him on, as shown by a pity frown taking shape on his face, and you can’t quite place if he’s mocking you or trying to seem more empathetic in some weird way.

“No, a sweet girl like you?” he places a kiss on your forehead, “You’re precious, angel.”

You shift uncomfortably, unable read the situation, unable to tell if he’s just fucking with you or if he feels bad. And you don’t have to, because just as he pulls away to look at you, you hear tyres against gravel, a car pulling around the corner, snapping you out of your… trance, and whipping your head to see a white corolla.

“Stay beautiful, doll,” Bucky says, and he slips into the shadows before you can grasp it. Cold air rushes against your cheeks—you hadn’t realised his hands were relatively warm—making you feel more exposed. For good measure, you quickly wipe away tears before hoping into the car with a smile to your driver.

Your date texts you the next morning, apologises for upsetting you—even though he doesn’t know how—and asks for a redo, or a second date, kinda, he puts it. With a clear mind, you do feel bad for being so dramatic and overly sensitive last night, and thinking back on it, a little rude with how short you were being with him when all he did was laugh lightly, it wasn’t malicious. He was a nice guy. You’re still shaken from the previous night, but maybe a casual date will relax you.

You agree, and he immediately responds, suggesting another restaurant for that evening.

You feel very pretty in your dress as you enter the restaurant and sit at table. You had arrived only 10 minutes late, so maybe you should just give him more time to show up. You didn’t want to order, but the waitress seemed to be getting impatient, and so you order something light and ate alone. An hour and he still wasn’t here. Your plate is cleared away, barely anything touched, and a few teardrops splashed at the edges.

You’re sniffling in the corridor of your apartment as you fumble with your keys and stumble in, trying not to completely break down as you kick off your shoes and head straight for your bedroom, thinking that you could escape some crying if you just fell asleep.

You’re sobbing quietly as you enter, pushing the door behind you, not even caring that it didn’t really close, ready to flop onto bed.

“You sad, pretty girl?”

You gasp and spin to the sound of that familiar voice, the same words being spoken in the same tone as the previous night.

Bucky pushes the door and this time it clicks shut. He looks up at you, and his blue eyes catch the moonlight in a soft yet sinister manner, causing you to stumble back. You can barely see him through the tears blurring your vision and the dark room.

“Bucky?” you whisper, unnecessarily, seeing as of fucking course it’s Bucky.

He bends his head back slightly with a smile, “I love the way you say my name, doll. Can you say it again for me?”

You take a few steps back, heart racing faster than you ever thought it could, and let out a quiet shriek as your heel hits the foot of your bed and your fall back onto it. Bucky is hovering over you in a flash, one hand propping him up and his right slipping under your dress to rub soothing circles on your thigh.

“Did he stand you up?” he leans down, lips between your ear and neck, “He doesn’t like you, princess.”

You try not to let out a sound, but you can’t stop a choked sob from escaping, and he smiles against your neck. You turn your head away, but he stays near, his voice hovering just above your ear, “He doesn’t like you, and he can’t take care of you, sweetheart, he can’t.”

Despite your efforts, another choked gasp escapes you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping he’ll just go away.

“You’re shaking,” he notes, changing his circular motions from clockwise to anti, “Are you scared, doll? Am I scaring you?”

“Yes!” you gasp as he kisses your neck.

“No…” he replies against your skin, faux-disbelief coating his tone, “But I won’t hurt you, angel; he will.”

He lies down next to you and brings his left hand up to stroke your face, “It’s okay, you can cry,” he coaxes, and you do, breath escaping your lungs in short gasps as tears fall and he wipes them away, kissing your neck and still rubbing circles on your thigh, “You can cry…”

His thumb slides to your inner thigh and you squirm, but he quickly stops you by harshly gripping your thigh. Once he’s sure you won’t twist again, he runs his finger up and down your inner thigh with a sigh.

“You’ll learn to love this, doll, but for now… you can cry…” he shifts downward and pulls your dress up, “A sweet girl like you’s gotta taste sweet too.”

✪

[late-to-the-party-81]

Bucky chasing me?

Oh no! 😏

Bella !! I just realized I submitted a req to the wrong acc 😭😭 by any chance—are you up to writing Drabbles or request for your PWYC series? I just reread it and omg I very much miss our dirty rough and tough biker Bucky ✨😭 anyways! Here is my silly lil request:

Imagine this: reader stumbles across a specific kink, (praise kink, daddy kink, degradation kink, knife kink, chase kink, whatever one you can come up with!) but she’s too nervous to bring it up to Bucky! Though, she forgets that Bucky can feel/sense her emotions through the ✨soulmate bond✨. When Bucky figures it out—he’s a lil pissed/sad that his pretty girl didn’t just tell him. So—he starts to do little things to trigger her new secret kink. He just can’t help it! He loves the way she blushes (when he calls her good girl, does shit with knives, you get it!) But suddenly Bucky can’t take it anymore—he pounces! Next thing ya know our lovely pair of soulmates are screwing!

I know it’s a bit long but I just desperately love this series ! Keep up the great work lovie!! ~🐰🎀

the thrill of it all

pretty when you cry series masterlist

pairing: pwyc!bucky x curvy!reader (dark!soulmate au)

warnings: 18+ ONLY. smut. chase kink, choking, primal play-ish?. probably forgetting stuff, please let me know if you come across something that should be added.

words: 5.5k

notes: thank you for sending this in, and sorry it took ages. it’s not exactly what you asked for 😓 but i hope you enjoy it! 🖤🖤🖤 i didn’t reread this bc i’m about to pass out but i promised i’d post it tonight so it’s going up rn and i’ll go over it tomorrow to fix anything i think needs fixing lol. fingers crossed it’s cohesive 💀 as always, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! thank you for reading.

Getting home from the grocery store, you were surprised to find your laptop sitting half open on the table in the kitchen. You remembered you’d been reading on it this morning as you ate breakfast, but you could have sworn you’d shut it when you left. You set the bags down and went to the table, opening the computer the rest of the way. It was still on the story you had been reading earlier and you felt yourself warm up not only at the idea that you left it open so carelessly, but also at the content itself. Smut.

A reader being chased through the woods by her boyfriend who also happened to be a demon. You’d had to leave before you got to the inevitable, the part where he’d stop toying with her and finally catch her. To have his way with her on the forest floor, the moonlight shining down on them as he took her apart.. You were getting flustered just thinking about it.

You’d have been mortified if Bucky had seen it and you were grateful he wasn’t home to have stumbled upon your latest reading material.

It was so…kinky. And you hadn’t talked to him about any of your new self discoveries or ‘interests’ so to speak. You hated it but you were truthfully a little ashamed. Embarrassed. You knew it’d probably be in your best interest to talk to him about it, but you kept talking yourself out of doing so. Convinced yourself that it wasn’t that big of a deal. Though if it wasn’t, why were you so concerned with keeping your fantasies to yourself. If you knew Bucky, you knew he’d want to help you fulfill any fantasy that crossed your pretty little mind, but still the thought of having to bring it up yourself was just too daunting. You were fine just reading your kinky erotica and not having to ask Bucky to act it out with you. Really. Though your occasional daydream about doing just that was popping up more and more frequently, you didn’t bring it up. How weird would it be to tell him you essentially wanted him to hunt you, chase you, pin you down and just completely ravish you…God, the thought of it was getting you hot all over again.

You had closed your laptop and set it aside as you started taking the groceries out of their bags and putting them away. Your eyes went wide as you heard Bucky’s footsteps, the ones you only heard when he wanted you to, coming down the stairs. How long had he been home? And did he happen to have come into the kitchen..did he open your laptop? Immediately you worried that he had at the very least looked at it. You swallowed hard but kept focused on your task, putting the food away where it belonged. You would just wait and see if he said anything, no way you’d bring it up first and make yourself seem suspicious. He came into the kitchen without a word and leaned back against the counter as he watched you put the last few items away, his arms crossed over his wellbuilt chest.

“Hey,” you greeted, throwing him a quick glance over your shoulder. “Thought you said you had a meeting with Stark today?”

“Something came up, we had to reschedule.”

“Oh. So, when’d you get home?” you asked, hoping you sounded nonchalant.

“Not that long ago,” he answered vaguely. You narrowed your eyes at his avoidance of a real answer before you turned around to look at him.

“I didn’t see your bike when I pulled in,” you alluded.

“It’s in the garage. I’m about to give it a tune up.” He kept his eyes on you, his gaze heavy and slightly unnerving. You hummed in response as you stared back, trying to suss out why he was being so weird. There, of course, was an obvious answer, but you wished he’d just come out and tell you what he was thinking.

“You left your laptop down here,” he said, nodding in the direction of where it laid on the table.

“I saw. Did you..were you on it?” you asked, again trying to sound like you didn’t care one way or the other.

He shook his head vaguely as he rubbed the stubble along his jaw.

“Just saw it when I came in earlier,”

You subconsciously let out a breath of relief, nodding at him.

“Why?” he questioned, his eyes never leaving you, even as you looked down. “You hiding something from me, sweetheart?”

Your eyes shot up again at his question. “What?” you laughed nervously. “No.”

He pushed off the counter and started to walk toward you as you stayed in your spot and watched him.

“Good,” he said as he got closer, closing the distance between you. His hands came up to cup your face, taking you by surprise as he suddenly pulled you in for a fervent kiss, eventually breaking it to look you in the eyes again. He kept your face in his hands, forcing you to hold his gaze as your hands found his wrists. “I don’t want you keeping anything from me, got it?”

You swallowed hard before you nodded lightly.

“Got it,” you breathed.

He looked at you a moment longer, his thumbs brushing the soft skin of your cheeks gently before he slipped away. His gaze was even more heated now and you had a renewed sense that he was clearly lying when he said he hadn’t been on your laptop. Why else would he have been acting so weird? Telling you not to keep things from him. He had to have seen something.

You weren’t sure why you were so embarrassed by him finding out about your newly realized kink, but you were. Bucky had seen you at your most vulnerable countless times at this point, in as many compromising positions as you could think of. But you’d never really been entirely comfortable talking about or asking for specific things from him when it came to sex. He certainly loved when you were vocal, crying for him, and he loved hearing you ask him for exactly what you wanted, but you were usually forced to verbalize those things lest he just continue torturing you with tantalizing but unfulfilling touches until you used your words, face hot even as your neediness tried to overpower your mortification. You were still relatively inexperienced and even morso when it came to the kinker side of being intimate.

You really never even thought of yourself as kinky, but since Bucky, you couldn’t deny the dirty thoughts that would run through your head, or the tags you’d go searching through when you’d look for new erotica to read.

You knew in reality that Bucky would love it if you came to him with ideas for things you’d want to try with him, but you just couldn’t get past the embarrassment to bring it up. Hell, you’d only very recently started to even just initiate sex with him and that took a helluva lot to get comfortable with.

It took constant reassurance from Bucky that any time you found yourself getting worked up for him, all you had to do was let him know. Weeks of finding yourself flustered and wanting when you’d catch him working on his bike or on a car in the garage… in the kitchen cooking dinner for you… even just cuddling you tight on the couch... or fresh out of the shower as he was getting ready.. You often forgot he could so easily tell when you were turned on. He could feel the way your heart would flutter and the change in your breathing. He’d shoot you a cocky smirk and you’d go wide eyed and make yourself scarce before he could really call you out on it.

Though half the time he’d catch you before you could get far and you’d find yourself naked and full of him in no time at all, always ending the night with him reminding you that anytime you wanted him all you had to do was ask. It took awhile for you to do so uninhibited, but when he finally pleaded for you to just tell him, you realized not only how badly he needed you to, but also how freeing it felt to not stifle your need for him, either.

That day had been a big eye opener for you, and you thought back on it in vivid and arousing detail as you stood in the kitchen. That was the day you’d realized exactly what it was that got you so worked up. It hadn’t been the first time you’d felt cornered or caught by him, but it suddenly clicked that that was what made certain memories stand out in your mind when you thought back on the most memorable times you’d been intimate with Bucky.

The uninhibited passion. Raw desire for one another. The possession. The chase.

He’d just gotten out of the shower and you were admiring his form as he walked toward the closet while you were folding your laundry across the room. The way his muscles flexed as he moved, looking through his shirts for something to put on, was distracting to say the least. All of him was distracting. He was just so beautiful. You knew you were staring, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. That was until you were pulled out of your head by his blue eyes shooting to you as he turned around suddenly. You quickly looked away and finished putting your panties in your drawer before you took the empty basket and made to leave the room. You avoided his eye as he neared you, trying to just go get the next load of your clothes from the dryer and act like you weren’t just ogling him and longing for his attention. He got closer still and stepped right in front of you, blocking you from moving. You took a step back as you found the nerve to look up at him. His eyes were set on you and you couldn’t look away from his heated gaze. You tried to move around him, but he moved insync with you, continuing to block your way. You huffed before trying again, but he followed your steps and this time took the basket from your hands as he threw it to the side. You were taken aback at the swift action, and froze as he took a step closer.

“What are you doing?” you tutted.

He didn’t answer and only took another step toward you, as you took one back. You felt cornered. You felt like prey. You eyed the door and narrowed your eyes at him before you made to run for it. It was futile, you knew it would be, but you screamed none the less as he took you off your feet, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you back against his chest. His lips were near your ear as he spoke, “Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t keep yourself from leaning back into his warmth as you placed your hands over his still holding you. You wanted him even more now, the thrill adding to the desire that was already there. He spun you around and pushed you up against the wall. His eyes were filled with desire, much the same as yours, you were sure.

“Need you to tell me you want me, princess. I need to hear it, I need to hear you say it.” He nuzzled against you as he spoke, keeping you pinned against the wall of your shared bedroom, nothing but his towel on as he stood before you. You nodded softly against him in turn.

“I want you,” you whispered before repeating yourself with more confidence, assuring him, “I want you. Right now.”

He crashed his lips against yours, his hunger for you evident in his kiss. He was going to devour you and you longed for nothing more as he kept you caged against the wall. You continued making out as Bucky pulled at you and removed your clothes in a fit, like he couldn’t get you bare to him fast enough.

He lifted you up and you instinctively wrapped your thick legs around him, your arms winding behind his neck. He carried you effortlessly to the bed where you spent the rest of your afternoon, completely consumed by him.

From then on, you'd made more of an effort in initiating things, and it was nice, you couldn’t lie. Owning your desires and letting Bucky know when you were feeling frisky was kind of empowering. You just weren’t sure you were ready to own and speak aloud your kinkier desires just yet. You were still learning and exploring what you liked on your own, and though you’d occasionally consider talking to Bucky about some of these things, you’d always get shy and end up too nervous to bring it up.

You found yourself almost hoping that he had seen what you were reading and that he’d bring it up so you wouldn’t have to. It wasn’t the most mature way to go about things, but at least you’d get it over with sooner and stop feeling like a teenager trying to hide porn from their parents.

Bucky didn’t make the connection right away. Sure, he’d noticed you would get more turned on when he’d corner you and cage you in, and the times you’d try to avoid him and put on a little game of cat and mouse, you would be damn near dripping for him when he’d finally get his hands on you. But he hadn’t ever put two and two together. It wasn’t until he stumbled upon your laptop you’d left in the kitchen. Was it an invasion of privacy? Maybe. But he was curious as to what you had been doing on it. You’d been glued to the screen all of last night until he was finally getting into bed. Your laptop had snapped shut and you set it on your bedside table in a flash like you’d been waiting for him all night. You crawled over to him the second he sat on the edge of the bed and he was pleasantly surprised when you looked up at him, lust swimming in your eyes as you tentatively moved to palm him through his sweats. He raised an eyebrow at you, his lips parting, but didn’t say anything as he leaned further back onto the bed. You pulled down on the top of his pants and he helped you get them down just enough for his cock to slip out past the waistband.

You wasted no time and took him into your mouth right away, moaning as you felt him stiffen further in your mouth. You took your time pleasuring him, bobbing up and down while twirling your tongue around his length as best you could, his hand fisted in your hair and grunts and curses were falling freely from his lips as you sucked. He almost came before he pulled you off of him and you gave him a pout at the loss, wiping some of the spit off your lips as you looked up at him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he panted. “Where the hell did that come from? Not that I’m complaining,” he smirked dopily.

You shrugged as you stared up at him, “Just want you.” Your words brought a proud smile to his face and with that he pulled you up and smashed his lips to yours, meanwhile you shimmied off your shorts and panties as quickly as you could while he held you to him.

You were near insatiable last night and he knew whatever it was you’d been doing on your laptop had something to do with it. He could sense you getting flustered even before he’d entered the room, your heart racing faster, a sense of anticipation and excitement taking over you. He’d let it go the first time he noticed, got more curious the second, but after last night, he decided he needed to see what it was that was getting you so worked up, since he knew you wouldn’t be the one to tell him.

It was really just a coincidence that Stark had to reschedule the meeting they had set and he got home early. But one that worked in his favor. You weren’t home and your laptop was just sitting there, like it was begging him to take a look at what was on your screen. It was closed, sure, but easy enough to open.

He typed in the password he knew you used for everything and got in on the first try.

His eyes scanned the text on the screen, trying to get a sense of what exactly you’d been reading. There was another tab open and when he clicked on it, he was brought to a blog page. Your blog page apparently. All the posts were story after erotic story. Just reading the warnings some of them had he quickly realized these were what had been getting you so hot.

There were a lot of kinks littered along your page, but the one that stood out the most was the chase kink. It also appeared the most. And when he thought about it, he wasn’t surprised in the least. Though he was a little disappointed that you felt the need to keep it from him. He was always happy to get kinky with you, and now knowing what you were into, it gave him a few ideas. If you weren’t going to come out and tell him, he’d just get it out of you himself.

He went back to the tab your laptop had been on and sent himself the link to what you’d been reading. He shut the screen but didn’t close it completely as he was distracted by pulling up the page on his phone. He went upstairs to give it a read and figure out what he wanted to do with this new information.

Bucky had been outside working on his bike before he went upstairs for a shower. You had been in the kitchen baking pumpkin bread, making loaf after loaf until the can of pumpkin puree was empty. You figured you could take one to Eva, and maybe bring a couple to the shop for everyone, too. You’d figure it out later, you just wanted to finish up baking them. You were so caught up in mixing the last batch of batter that you didn’t even notice Bucky enter the kitchen until you turned around to grab your wisk, yelping at his unexpected appearance. You placed your hand over your heart as if it would help settle the beating as you steadied your breath.

“Jesus christ, Bucky, why do you do that?” you admonished. He smirked in response.

“You look so cute when you’re all helpless and scared, I can’t help myself.”

You swallowed hard and felt your face grow warm at his words, turning back around to combine the dry ingredients into the wet.

“‘M not helpless,” you argued.

He was behind you in an instant, you gasped at his metal hand on your throat forcing your head back so you could look up at him, eyes wide.

“Aren’t you?” he leered down at you. “Don’t you wanna be? You’ve been keeping secrets from me, pretty girl?” he purred in your ear. “You should know by now I’m always gonna find out what’s going on with you.” You whined pathetically as he tightened his hand around your neck, pulling you closer as he leaned down, your breathing shallow as he kissed your lips, taking advantage of your lips parting again as he flexed his fingers around your throat once more, slipping his tongue inside the warmth of your mouth.

You reached up and grabbed his hair, trying to pull him even closer. His hand slipped from around your neck and slid down your chest, groping your breasts as he breathed into you. His hand drifted lower and made its way under your dress, cold metal grazing the soft skin of your thighs, sending chills up your spine. You moaned into his mouth as he began rubbing at your clothed folds. The sound of the timer going off on the oven made you jump, but Bucky held your waist tight as you reclined into him, his lips moving to your cheek as you breathed deeply.

“I have to get that out,” you breathed as you pushed his hands away from you, reaching for the oven mits before you turned toward the oven. Bucky blocked your way and fixed you with a look.

“Ah-ah,” he tutted. “You’re not gonna get out of this, so might as well talk.”

“Get out of what?” you said, playing dumb. “It’s gonna burn, Bucky, I need to take it out,” you whined.

He turned and opened the oven door, grabbing the loaf pan with his hand.

“Buck,” you gasped before realizing he was using his left hand. “God,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“Worried about me hurting myself, sweetheart?” he teased as he set the pan down on the stove.

“I have to finish this,” you avoided, gesturing to the batter still sitting in the mixing bowl.

“Oh, don’t you worry, princess. We’ll definitely finish this,” he said. You looked up at him from the bowl, biting the side of your tongue in your mouth as he left the room

It was almost two hours later when you’d taken the last loaf out of the oven, the dishes washed and the cooled loaves wrapped, packed, and stored away to give out tomorrow.

You washed your hands, grabbed the load of towels you’d washed earlier from the dryer and headed upstairs.

You entered the bedroom and didn’t find Bucky, but you didn’t think much of it as you went to the bathroom to put the towels where they belong in the cabinet.

As you were on your knees, sliding the folded towels onto the lower shelves, the lights in the bathroom went off.

You bristled at the loss of light and called out into the room, “I’m in here, Bucky!”

No response. You rolled your eyes and got up with a huff. The light switches were by the door leading from the bedroom to the bath so you had to walk across the room to switch them back on. You were stopped in your path as you saw a figure standing across from you in the dark. You screamed in fear at the sight, stumbling back on instinct before your rational mind came back into play.

“Fucking hell, Bucky! It’s not funny,” you cursed. He stayed silent, his face still concealed by the dark, as he took a step to you. You stayed still, breathing heavy as you tried to discern him in the darkness. You pushed past him and got to the door of the toilet, flicking on the switch in there, giving you enough light to see Bucky now.

He kept inching closer and you kept backing away, eyeing him warily. His continued silence was perturbing and the look in his eye was intense and sure.

Every step he took, deliberate. Methodical. Like he was leading you into a trap of some kind.

“Bucky..What are you doing?” you asked. “You’re freaking me out.”

As you made your way back into the bedroom, you realized he had turned the lights off in there, too. “Can you say something, please?!” you snapped. You hadn’t been looking where you were going, and even if you had the light from the bathroom wasn’t giving much of any illumination that far into the bedroom. You tripped over something and only barely caught yourself from falling back on your ass.

“Better watch your step, sweetheart. You’ve read enough scenes like this, I’m sure you know how it goes. One wrong move and it's over. And you wouldn't want it to be over so soon, where's the thrill in that?”

You didn’t know how to respond. You had been pretty sure he’d seen your laptop, but now knowing he really had, you didn’t know what to feel. Though you were thoroughly embarrassed, you were also relieved. And growing more and more excited… He knew and he was playing into it for you already. And he was doing a damn good job, too.

He was nearly on top of you now, backing you into the closed door of your room. You felt that familiar thrill come over you. Your heart picked up speed and you were sure he could tell how aroused you were getting at his predatory gaze.

“Now we both know I can catch you in a heartbeat, so I'm gonna be nice and give you a little head start,”

“What are you-”

“If I were you, princess,” he said as he got closer, your back flush against the door, “I’d run.”

You turned quickly and threw the door open, cursing at the darkness encompassing the whole house. The only light afforded to you were the small night lights at either end of the hall and the candles still burning in the living room down the stairs. As fast as you could without falling, you hurried down the stairs, Bucky’s voice counting down from ten sounding from the bedroom.

You didn’t really think through where you were going, you just went. Instead of heading to the living room, you headed down the hall across from it. You were walking slowly, desperate not to hit your toe on a corner or walk into a wall, the hall pitch black, no lights left on. When you got to the doors leading to the den Bucky mainly used as his office, you saw light coming from inside.

“Boo,” he whispered in your ear just as you moved to reach the handle. You jumped at his voice so close and when you were suddenly pulled back into him, being lifted off your feet as he carried you away from the door, a la texas chainsaw massacre, you shrieked in fear.

“That’s the best you can do? I thought you wanted a chase, pretty girl. Didn’t even try to make it outside. No one else out here but us,” he mused. “Noone’ll hear you scream.”

You were thrashing against him, pushing at his arms, trying with no avail to get him to drop his hold, whimpering as he only tightened his arms around you.

“Mmm,” he hummed against you. “There’s always next time.” He changed his hold on you, lifting your legs into his left arm, holding your back up with his right, essentially cradling you in his arms. You tried to wiggle out of his hold, but he just threw you over his shoulder instead, slapping your ass as he took you to the living room, dropping you unceremoniously onto the couch. The light from the candles glowing and allowing you to see him as he pulled his shirt over his head. The clinking of his belt and the sound of his zipper filled the air as he removed his jeans before he straddled you. You were breathing shallow and you knew you were dripping for him by now as he leaned his face into yours and took your lips into his own, gently nipping your bottom lip before he drifted to your neck. His arms went under you and pulled the zip of your dress down, getting it as much off of you without your assistance as he could. He was impatient and decided to just tear it the rest of the way down the seam as you gasped.

“I’ll get you a new one,” he gruffed as he pulled the sleeves off your arms and threw the dress to the wayside. “You’d forgone a bra, granting him access to your heavy breasts the moment he got the dress off you. His lips descendeded on your pert nipple, his hand squezzing your breast as he pulled and tugged at your other nipple.

“Buck,” you moaned, your hands flitting through his hair, his stubble tickling your sensitive skin. You spread your legs around him and he ground down against you, his hard length throbbing through his underwear. You tugged at his boxers before he pulled away from you to get them down the rest of the way. He tore your own off and before you could complain, kissed your sweet spot and murmured, “Sorry, princess.”

His lips traveled back up your neck before landing on your lips again, tasting you as you parted your mouth for him, wrapping your leg around his waist and whining at the lack of contact you felt.

“Tell me what you want,” he said. You huffed in annoyance but knew you’d have to answer to get what you wanted.

“Want you to fuck me,” you pleaded.

“Whatever you say,” he smiled against your skin.

He took his cock in his hand and ran his tip along your wet slit, spreading your slick around and rubbing himself against your puffy clit, eliciting a moan from you. He teased you for a bit before he slid his tip inside of you. Your eyes closed in pleasure. “Feel good, baby?” he asked.

You nodded fervently as his lips returned to your neck. “More,” you pleaded, your fingers pulling at his hair. He pushed further into you and groaned at the feeling of your silky walls gripping him tight. He rolled his hips against you, setting a rhythm as he rocked into you repeatedly. His cock was rubbing against you in the most delicious way and he was stimulating your clit with his every move. Moans falling from you both as he fucked into you. His hand found your hip as he held you down into the couch, thrusting up into you harsher and harsher the closer he got to his release. The way he was pounding into you had you sliding up the couch with each powerful thrust.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned into your ear as he held himself up above you, his rhythm faltering ever so slightly. The hand he had on your hip traveled to your clit and he expertly rolled it with perfect pressure as you cried out at the heat building hotter and hotter in your core. You felt your body tense as he slid against your g-spot repeatedly.

“Always so fucking tight, goddamnit,” he cursed, fucking you harder. You were unintelligible as you moaned and mewled at the pressure growing until you finally came undone around him. “Fuck,” he roared near your ear, burrying his face in your neck as he let himself go right after you.

You whimpered as his hips stuttered against you, your arms wrapping around him as he laid his weight down on top of you, placing soft kisses along your neck. You were breathing heavy as you ran your hands up and down his back, his weight a comfort as you shut your eyes.

Bucky pulled out of you gently, grabbing tissues off the coffee table to clean you and himself. He sat back on the couch and pulled you against him, kissing your head.

“I need you to know, sweetheart. You don’t need to keep anything from me. Ever. Especially stuff like this. I just want to make you happy. I want to make you feel good.”

“I know,” you murmured. “You know you’re the only person I've ever been with. I just - I didn't know how to approach it. I guess really I was just embarrassed. Maybe a little ashamed. I’d never..even thought about any of this stuff,” you laughed nervously. “It feels..dirty?”

“It’s a kink, princess. They’re pretty common. You’re not fucked up for wanting to be chased around before you fuck. It’s just a turn on, doesn’t say anything about your morality.”

You leaned your head against him as he rubbed your arm.

“You come across any other kinks you wanna try, you just let me know. You know I’ll do anything for you, pretty girl.”

You smiled softly at that. You knew he would, but it was always nice to hear him remind you of that fact.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He tilted your chin up so you were looking at him. “I love you,” he told you, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“That was pretty hot,” he said when he pulled away. “We’re definitely going outside next time.” You couldn’t help but smile, a small laugh leaving your lips as you looked at him. “I love you,” you replied, hand coming up to stroke his cheek. “‘M tired,” you mumbled. He lifted you up as effortlessly as ever and moved to carry you up the stairs.

“If you drop me, I swear to god,” you warned him, earning a laugh in return.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

[kaismasterlist]

| 🩶: angst | 🩷: fluff | ♥️: smut | 🖤: dark |

Bliss (Dark!Bucky x Princess!Reader) 🖤

[steves-sub]

Prologue

Summary: Steve comes up with an idea

Warning(s): Dark!Team Cap (Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff), MINOR DNI, Drinking, Implied non-con, and kidnapping. 

WC: 312 (I promise these will be longer)

Taglist; @marvel-fandom23

Since the events in Germany, Steve Rogers has been hiding out in the cabin with Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, and Wanda Maximoff. On the run from the law, they only had each other to rely on. Since then, nothing has happened with his sexual life. Due to the fact that everyone there was a Dom, he couldn't turn to his teammates for assistance. So while sitting with the rest of the team outside, Steve decided to propose an idea. 

"So, I've been thinking recently," he said to the group of people around him. “Anyone else been extremely horny?” He questioned as he took a sip of his beer. In response, Bucky offered a chuckle, "If you are proposing what I think you are, I’m out.” Sam agreed, "No way." Steve realized his mistake and stopped them. "Oh no, not like that.” 

“So what are you thinking then, Captain?” Natasha asked as she crossed her legs. “Look, we've been stuck in the cabin for a while. It doesn't seem like we're getting out anytime soon. So," he paused, "how about bringing someone in to help us?" Wanda looked at him with a questioning face, “Like a stripper?” He laughed at her answer with a smirk. “I was thinking of a more permanent solution.”

Suddenly, the only sound they heard was the cackling of the fire they sat around. Steve knew this was a big proposition. Bucky was the first to speak. “If we do it, how do we go about it?” He spoke as he twisted the top off the beer with his metal arm. “We can figure that out together, but I think that we all need to meet the person before we take them,” Steve responded. “Sounds like you already have someone in mind,” Natasha smirked.

Steve let out an exhale, “I got the perfect little sunflower for us.”

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS FOR THIS SERIES!! Would love input

[lillyrob]

Actual footage of me patently waiting for my favorite author to upload😫😫😫