#dark!stucky smut

[lillyrob]

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

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

young ladies shouldn’t waltz with vampires

a/n: happy halloween!!! here's the fic you guys voted on and shaped a few weeks ago

polls for this fic: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

summary: “so, here’s the thing,” his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steve’s had, mystically bending your mind to his will, “you’re gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we shared…” 

warnings: vampire!bucky barnes x innocent!reader x vampire!steve rogers, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, historical au (1840s), mind control/vampire compulsion, blood, biting, age gap, ball, dancing, polyamory, threesome, first kiss, kissing, loss of virginity, somno, cockwarming, dirty talk, size kink, pain kink, pussyjob, overstimulation, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, unprotected sex

word count: 3511

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“I have to admit, out of every rose here, you’re the most breathtaking.” 

Glancing up from the table before you, cluttered with crystal glasses brimming with refreshments, your eyes flickered to the man now standing beside you, his own piercing blue stare firmly directed at you and no one else in the buzzing ballroom. 

Your stunned lips parted slightly before the gentleman boldly spoke up again, “how come I’ve never seen you before?” 

Feeling your breath hitch, you managed to babble, “oh, it’s probably because this is my first time at a proper ball. I haven’t really previously been allowed to come stay at my family’s London estate and–, I’m sorry…” you swiftly stopped yourself, sensing the heat that had ridden in your cheeks, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this…”

“Well, lucky us that you got let out of your cage and the rest of us finally get to gaze upon your beauty,” he flashed you a dazzling smile before his eyes flickered to someone behind you, “if you’ll excuse me, I see someone I recognise, but would you perhaps grant me the pleasure of a dance a little later?” 

Averting your gaze, a smile tugged at your lips as you uttered, “you’d have to ask my brother.” 

“But I’m asking you,” he dipped down to catch your vision, “would you care to dance with me?” 

Blinking back at him, you couldn’t help but let out the truth.

“Y-yes.” 

As a smile swiftly tilted his lips, the gentleman then bowed slightly before you as he plucked up your gloved hand and pressed his lips to the back of it before disappearing into the merry crowd. 

Feeling slightly dizzy, you finally snatched up the drink you’d originally wandered to this corner of the chamber to fetch. 

Though as you granted yourself a small sip, fingers suddenly grasped your arm and yanked you deeper into a corner. 

“Sister!” you blinked up into your brother’s eyes as he’d evidently spotted you from across the ballroom and, judging by his tone, not approved of what he’d seen, “what in the world do you think you’re doing?”

Ripping your arm free, you furrowed your brows, “what are you talking about? I was just getting some punch.”

“No,” he hissed at a hushed volume, “why were you talking to him?”

A confused scoff then bubbled out past your lips, “I’ve talked to plenty of men at this party, with and without you at my side, so why is he any different?”

“Because, sister,” he leaned down a bit further, “he’s not a man. He’s one of them,” his eyes scanned your own before he spelled it out, “a vampire.” 

Though you’d never previously encountered one yourself, you still weren’t so naive to not be aware of the known influential status such creatures of the night had in the society you lived in. Them being in attendance at a fine ball was nothing compared to the other privileges they had achieved over the centuries. 

“Really?” you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder, though didn’t spot the bloodsucker again. 

“God,” your brother groaned quietly, “I know mother and papa have kept you rather sheltered compared to myself, but trust me, you have to stay away from them. They’re monsters, killing is in their nature,” with a hand on your cheek, he guided your gaze back to his, “promise me you won’t speak to one ever again.”

Blinking back at him, you then uttered sincerely, “I promise.”

“Good,” a visible weight then faded from his shoulders as he let go of you and straightened back up to his full height. 

As you stayed on the outskirts of the party, one of your fingers curved to trace the lines of the fine glass still clutched in your grasp. 

Soon your eyes flickered up from the liquid remaining in the goblet and landed on the other guests. Elegant crinoline gowns swooshed and swayed to the music emanating from the small string quartet in the corner, acting as a heartbeat for the lords and ladies of London as they danced the night away. 

“Well, as I live and breathe,” a voice then found not only your brother’s ears, but yours as well. 

Twisting slightly, you watched as a wide grin swiftly stretched your brother’s lips, “Thomas!” he spread his arms out for the redheaded man nearly within his reach. 

As they pulled each other into a tight hug, your brother’s friend chimed in his ear, “how you doing, old chap?” before withdrawing from the embrace, though still kept one palm fast on your sibling’s shoulder. 

“Not bad, not bad–, oh, Tommy,” your brother then suddenly glanced back at you, “this is my little sister,” gesturing betwixt you both, “sister, this is Thomas, we went to boarding school together.”

Extending a hand, you smiled politely, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he shook your palm before casting his gaze back upon your chaperone, “would you mind if I stole your brother for a moment?”

“Uhm,” you glanced to your sibling before uttering, “no, of course not. Go, have fun, catch up.”

And before the pair slipped away, your brother leaned down to whisper in your ear, “be good till I get back,” to which you offered him a nod in return right before they both vanished from your sight and left you alone at the edge of the dance floor. 

Though as you slowly began to wander along the perimeter, your gaze once again affixed upon the sea of swaying pairs in the centre of the ballroom, your gentle stride then abruptly halted as a bulky figure shifted to pass you, though as the stranger attempted to, the two of you collided and the remainder of the drink in your hand splashed across his jacket.

You both froze as you slowly peeled your wide eyes up from the stain of your drink, that lightly dripped from his clothing, and instead flickered up to find the stare of the aristocrat you’d accidentally bumped into. 

“Oh god…” your heartbeat swiftly hammered in your ears, deafening out the elegant music that filled the chamber, “sir, I am so sorry, I-I wasn’t looking at where I was going and–”

“It’s alright,” he hastily put an end to your blubbering as he eyed the soaked patch, “it’ll dry,” he uttered, running a broad palm down over the wetness. Though as his gaze flickered back up to find yours, a slight smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he then said, “well, spilling your drink on me, the least you can do is offer me your name so that I know who to warn about to the people who actually are precious about their attire.”

“Lady Y/n Y/l/n,” you averted your gaze as your knees bent in a gentle curtsy, “delighted to make your acquaintance, even under the circumstances–, again, I am so incredibly sorry…”

“You’re a lady but with such lack of grace? Well, now I understand why you aren’t on the floor dancing with someone,” he jested in a teasing tone. 

The heat that had already crept up in your cheeks fiercely worsened, “I am a great dancer, I’ll have you know!”

“Oh really?” a smile dazzled his features, “I think I’ll have to see that to believe it,” he spoke as the current song came to an end and he extended a hand out to you, “shall we?”

For a moment, you let your glance flicker about the chamber in search of your brother, though when you couldn’t spot him, you found your own palm thinking for itself and gliding into the man’s standing tall before you. 

Once he’d led you out onto the floor, the palm he slid across your waist, and used to guide you a smidge closer to his own frame, caused a shy gasp to slip past your lips long before your feet began to shift below your poofy plum coloured gown. 

“Well, I guess you weren’t lying after all,” you soon heard him note after you’d danced for a minute, your movements having been nothing short of perfection since the very first step. 

Blinking up at the blonde man holding onto you tight, you finally asked, “what is your name, sir?”

“Lord Steven Rogers,” the title rolled off his tongue as his own gaze kept yours captive, “at your service, my lady.”

“Are you from here? You don’t sound it,” you commented on his accent, “but are you?”

“That’s a good question,” a slight tilt found his head, “London is one of my favourite places and I have spent many of my years here, but it’s not where I’m from, no.”

“So, you’ve travelled a lot?” you asked as he spun you an arm’s length away from himself. 

“You could say that…” he smirked as he twirled you back into his hold, “are you?”

“Am I what?” you found yourself slightly dizzy, though not from the dancing. 

“From London?”

“Well, my family does have a place here, but I haven’t spent much of my time in the city. At least not yet, I’m hoping I can begin to now that I’m grown, though to be quite frank, I have no idea where to start.”

“I could be your guide,” his offer caught you off guard, “it might have been a few years since I last called this city my home, but I still know it like the back of my hand.”

Mouth shyly agape, you simply blinked back at him a second before uttering, “perhaps if my brother came along as a chaperone.”

“I thought you said you were grown,” the tone he used to deliver his teasing seeped directly into your bones and made you thankful of his firm grip on you as the pair of you continued to sway to the music, “a girl asks for permission and can’t be trusted on her own, but a woman however, takes exactly what she desires and doesn’t let anyone or anything stand in her way…” his smouldering stare then briefly dipped before you heard him murmur, “so, what are you? A little girl or a woman?”

“I–…” you blinked back at him, struggling to navigate the exhilaratingly foreign situation you found yourself in. However, before you could stammer any further, the song came to a close and the surrounding couples parted ways. 

Though before you could take even one step back, his hand kept you close a moment longer as he dipped down for his breath to tickle the shell of your ear. 

“Meet me in the garden,” he whispered, causing even more goosebumps to erupt across your skin, “then you can give me your answer...” 

The cool night air kissed your cheeks as your glance flickered away from the candlelit terrace you’d abandoned only moments prior in order to stand beside the bushy mouth of the dark hedge maze further down the expanse of the estate’s garden. Faint music still found your ears as it echoed out the open windows of the grand manor where the ball still boomed. 

Then suddenly, as you were lost in your thoughts of disbelief at what you were doing, just before you could talk yourself into returning to the party, you felt your hand be grabbed before your eyes fluttered up to find the lord you’d been awaiting, his arrival haven been so sudden that it nearly caused you to jump straight out of your skin. 

Without a single word, Steve began to drag you into the maze, far away from any prying eyes and where the darkness could swallow you both whole.

“Where are you taking me–,” you attempted to ask, though as the man then abruptly stopped, what he did next stunned you to your very core. 

Pulling you close, closer than you’d ever been to any man before, he then pressed his lips to your own, sufficiently shutting you up before you could elaborate your question any further. 

The kiss was abrupt, fevered and entirely your first, leaving you dazed and reeling to catch up to the reality, to the dream you were finally expecting.

When Steve finally felt you relax into him, his feet began to shuffle and shift you back till your spine was pressed up against the denseness of the hedge behind you. 

But just as a shy whimper from you vibrated against his tongue and your fingers drifted up to whisper around his silky necktie, the snapping of a twig suddenly found your ears and caused you to jump away from your dance partner. 

Casting your glance over Steve’s broad shoulder, you spotted as the dark-haired gentleman, that your brother had so fiercely warmed you about, slithered out from the embrace of the shadows. 

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” the man smirked, folding his arms across his wide chest as he continued to stare. 

Eyes wide, you then began to stammer, “Steve,” lightly patting your partner’s arm as he hadn’t yet shifted to protect you with an air of understanding, “h-he’s a–” 

“A vampire?” the aristocratic creature raised an eyebrow, “how about you take another look at the lord that just had his tongue down your throat.” 

Your panicked glare then fluttered back to Steve in front of you, however, before you could manage to push him away, his hands flew up to either side of your face and he dipped down to stare into your eyes with an intense you’d never witnessed before, somehow locking you up in his gaze as he then compelled you, “don’t scream,” and under the moonlight, you swore you saw his pupils briefly dilate as his wish slithered into your soul, “stay calm.” 

Continuing to cup your cheeks, Steve then kissed you once again. Even though his previous words had turned you completely docile in his hold, the sensation of his lips as they soon pecked away from your own, on a determined journey down over your jaw, caused you to melt away that much further.

The neckline of your deep purple gown was so wide that it exposed not only your shoulders, but also crept down scandalously low on your chest. 

Your eyes fluttered shut once more as his kisses tickled in their path down your neck, the sensation shooting straight down between your thighs. However, as soon as Steve’s lips were devouring the tender spot where the base of your throat blossomed into your shoulder, a sharp pain suddenly caused your eyes to snap back open as the vampire had sunk his teeth into you. 

You winced slightly as blood began to trickle free, your gaze locked with the other man’s as he took a step forward and closed the gap. Standing directly behind Steve, his hand then raised up to stroke your hair.

“So, here’s the thing,” his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steve’s had, mystically bending your mind to his will, “you’re gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we shared…” 

Though you’d barely gotten to sleep an hour, you began to stir as the vampire sprawled out in front of your slumbering form kissed down your neck and swiftly sank his fangs into your shoulder. 

Wincing awake and still weak from the blood the two lords had already drained you off, your hiss soon faded into a mumble, “Buck…”

Tilting his chin back a bit, Bucky lapped up the crimson that trickled down from the bite before he whispered, “shh, you can just stay asleep…” and you noticed his hardness straining against you below the covers, “it’s okay, I don’t mind…”

You couldn’t fathom how the vampire still wasn’t satiated after everything that had happened that night, things a lady such as yourself had never dared to even imagine possible. Even now, you were still slotted in between the two naked men under the canopy of a bed in the grand estate they’d taken you to, your virgin blood still staining the sheets, or the little of it that they hadn’t lapped up for themselves to savour. 

Though the restless one before you had stirred you for another taste, Steve was still sleeping like a rock. He was laying directly behind you, his burly chest still pressed up against your spine as earlier, when he’d impulsively tried to stretch out your ass, made the decision to do something about that impossible tightness and have that little hole warm his intimidating girth while he slumbered. It made it difficult, to say the least, for rest to come to you as the sensation of his fat cock plugging you up was nearly too much for you to bear. 

“Oh, what is it?” Bucky chuckled lowly at the wince you let out as he began to nudge his dick against your puffy pussy, “are you sore?” he asked in a mocking tone, grinning wider as you nodded hazily in response, “but you like it, don’t you?” he torturously tapped the weight of his length against the creamy mess between your thighs, the sensation causing both your holes to throb and clench, making Steve’s cock still embedded deep within you seem that much more enormous, “you like it when it hurts, when the sting of pain mixes with pleasure…” he then caught your eye and compelled you, “tell me that you like it.”

“I like it,” you hear the desperate word flow out your lungs, “please don’t stop, please keep hurting me, keep biting me, drink every drop of my blood, use me however you wish, it all feels so good–, ah!” the pleas he’d made you utter were then cut off by a rippling moan as his bulbous tip suddenly caught your entrance and greedily slid back into your warmth. 

The fierce rhythm Bucky swiftly found rocked you so roughly that the movements didn’t just split your poor pussy open as he bucked up into you, but it also caused your frame to shift back against Steve and sink you down that much further on his cock, letting his heavy sack nuzzle tightly against your slick skin. 

As your whimpers filled the room and mingled with Bucky’s own grunts of pleasure, you felt the girth in your ass twitch and rapidly grow painfully hard before the arm the slumbering bloodsucker had slumped around your waist tightened as he stirred with a low rumble directly in your ear. 

“Mmm… having a little midnight snack, are we?” Steve groggily hummed from behind you as he nuzzled his nose into your tousled hair, “you know she’ll pass out soon if we keep drinking like this.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Bucky then slid his palm down the length of your arm, plucking up your hand till his lips ghosted against it. However, just as you let yourself hope that he’d just plant a peck upon your palm, his teeth instead pierced the flesh, right below your thumb. Although, the vampire did show some restraint as he only offered you a little nip before ripping your hand away from his mouth and holding it out for his partner to grasp, “here, you look parched,” blood already began to pool like a little puddle in your palm from how it slowly oozes out of the wound. 

Accepting the delicacy, Steve first dragged his silky tongue over the bite, before he let his fangs sink into you with a deep groan, the taste of you only making him harder. As he began to drink from your palm, his hips greedily began to rock, making you tremble between the two lords of the night from the dizzying manner they both now fucked you. 

As your moans filled the night air, Bucky’s fingers found your face in a caress before he leaned in to snuff out your sounds and let you taste the tangy iron of yourself on his tongue. Soon, his kisses began to dance down over the column of your neck, till his face was buried in your heaving tits, leaving a blossoming trail of hickeys to mark his path as he moved down to capture your nipple between his lips.  

“I know we usually only keep our dinner till the morning comes,” Bucky muttered as he nipped at your boobs, only pausing to briefly glance over your shoulder at the man behind you, “but there’s something different about this one, don’t you agree, Steve?” 

“She’s fucking delicious…” you heard him purr in your ear, “maybe you could be more than just a quick bite to eat…” both of their cocks continued to rock in harmony, filling your holes up to more than the brim, “maybe you can be our girl…” 

Sucking in a shaky breath, you tilted your head to catch both of their eyes, “for how long?” 

Keeping his neck tilted, Bucky blinked up at you and uttered, “…forever,” before he buried his teeth into the soft peak of your tit.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[huffelpuff210]

The Deal part 2 Soft Dark Mob boss Stucky x Reader

You were currently laying in your bed, in your small home, that you knew you were gonna have to give up, 

Steve and Bucky were very clear, and you didn’t have much of a choice, 

You were to be their girl, in exchange, you give up your home, they said you were going to live with them, 

They said you were to marry them within two weeks, and if you ran  they would find you and you wouldn’t like how they would get you to comply,  you still didn’t completely understand why they had their sights set on you, 

There were plenty of women out there they could have right?

you heard a knock on your bedroom door, 

“Hey, I’m going out.” Andy says

You look at the clock, it was three in the morning, 

“Just don’t get in trouble.” You say 

“Like you can tell me what to do.” He sneers leaving the room

You sigh turning on your side, 

it doesn’t surprise you how your brother treats you, your family treated you the same way why should your older brother be any different, why should the men you have been forced into a corner just because of your brother be any different, 

The next morning you are sitting at the island with your coffee, you were about to head out when your brother walks in covered in bruises and blood 

he storms over to you 

“What did you do?!” He yells cornering you 

“What are you talking about?” You ask in a dull tone that is so rehearsed since this has happened many times, he goes on his binges then comes home high or drunk, he is gripping both of your arms so tightly,

“Steve and Bucky! they own this town! they-” He began but suddenly a voice cuts him off, 

“Now that’s no way to treat a lady.” You hear a familiar voice that sent goosebumps up your spine, 

You look past your brother to see Steve and Bucky standing there in their handsome suits, arms crossed, 

Your brother lets go of you he spins on his heel, 

“Get the fuck out of my house!” Your brother yells, 

Both Steve and Bucky chuckle 

“Last time we checked, this isn’t your house.” Steve says 

“Yeah, her name is on the deed, not yours.” Bucky says

“And since we own her now thanks to you, this is our house as well.” Bucky says 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Your brother asked in a seething tone, 

“You see your dear sister, was so worried for your safety that she signed a contract with us.” Steve says 

Yes you signed a contract agreeing to all the terms, as long as they don’t cause you any sort of harm, which they agreed to, you couldn’t run away, you had to do as they said, you were to marry them, have their children, in exchange they would give you everything you ever wanted, provide you with comfort and security, keep you safe, 

“Y/N come over here.” Bucky’s deep voice broke you out of your thoughts 

just as you were about to take the first step your brother grabbed you by the upper arm, 

“She’s not going anywhere with you two!” Your brother yelled, 

You sighed in annoyance 

“You know they could kill you right?” you said 

they both chuckled at your comment

“Shut up.” He says to you

Steve sighs in annoyance, 

“Sam take care of him, he’s too ignorant to understand,” Steve says 

Suddenly my brother is yanked back and pistol whipped, 

“Come here kitten.” Bucky says using  his finger as if calling a puppy, you walk towards them, Steve checks the now forming bruises on your arms, and growls, 

“It’s fine.” You say, 

They both look at one another, 

“We were gonna wait until tomorrow to come get you, but as soon as we seen your big brother starting trouble that you were going to have to clean up we decided it was in your best interest that we have a word with him, and stop by to pick you up anyway.” Steve says inspecting if you were hurt any were else

“It seems he never learns.” Bucky grumbles

“It’s fine I’ve seen worse at work.” You say 

They both chuckle at your comment, 

“Speaking of we thought it would be best if you just quit that job,we’ve got a better position for you anyway.” Bucky says 

“What?” You asked 

They both smirked at your reaction. 

“Besides we can’t have our girl killing herself at a dead beet job that doesn’t appreciate her.” Steve says his hand on your cheek as his thumb pulls your lower lip down, 

“Lets go kitten.” Bucky says guiding you out of the home 

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 3 The Knight

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 3195

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.

Wait! I haven't read part 1, part 2!

“Nnn, pl-please…”

Her gasp is hardly audible this time, she’s so out of breath.

Panting from the way the second orgasm’s just ripped through her. And she’s crying still, but only just. Not like before. Because now the pleasure’s overtaken most of the anger, all of the fear, and even some of the humiliation. Bucky pulls his hands from her and delicately eases her panties back into place, smooths her little slip of a dress out for her. He looks up from his spot on the floor.

Her chest heaves with her breathing, the underside of her breasts—beautiful and natural under the silk—on full display for Bucky from this angle. And, Christ, her nipples are pebbled up, just begging for attention. Bucky sees Steve refixing his hold on her waist to support her because she’s gone so slack. She’s shaking against him, his body practically the only thing keeping her vertical at this point.

Inside his pants, Bucky is … uncomfortable. He slowly pushes up from where he’s been kneeling in front of her, coming back to stand at his full height and crowd in close again. He cages her between his body and Steve’s, hands landing on her waist right alongside Steve’s own. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, mockingly tender. “Don’t you want to say thank you for your orgasm?” He leans in so that the words are whispered against the side of her head. He’s staring at Steve as he says it, and when Lena’s mortified, overwhelmed little whimper comes in response, he doesn’t miss how Steve’s mouth twitches at the corner. Steve likes to play the white knight—and maybe he sort of is, compared to Bucky, but even still, he’s no sweetheart. And he’s enjoying the heck out of this. “Are you hard?” Bucky whispers, and he feels his sweet puppy’s body stiffen between them as she figures out who he’s talking to.

“You have to ask?” Steve answers, the rumble of his voice no doubt felt against Polina’s back. She makes another little outraged cry when Steve presses forward, driving his erection against her backside and pushing her more tightly up against Bucky.

Bucky, who helpfully slots his thigh back between her legs. She shivers as her sex is pressed up against him, going stock still to avoid any stimulation. Bucky coos down at her. He lets go of her waist and cups her face with one hand, tucking her hair behind her ear with the other. “Aw, princess,” he murmurs. “You sensitive now? Hm?”

She sniffles and nods her head. She’s been much more forthcoming ever since the suppository and the pill worked their way into her system. Behind the glossy sheen of her tears, her pupils are even wider and darker than Steve’s. It’s hardly taken any work at all to get her to come twice for him, she’s so keyed up.

Bucky tuts lovingly and brings the still buzzing vibrator up in front of her face. He twists the base, turning it off. Lena’s whole body slumps between them with relief, and Bucky chuckles. “Don’t get too excited. This might not be over for you.”

“W-what …” she swallows dryly. “What do you mean?”

“You still have a choice to make.” Bucky taps the little bullet vibrator against her lips. “Open.” She clamps her mouth shut stubbornly, so Bucky shrugs and rubs it over her instead, smearing her own release onto her lips. He leans in and slots his mouth over hers, licking the taste of her right back. “Mmm,” he hums. “Somebody’s been drinking their pineapple juice.”

She’s glowering at him when he pulls back. Bucky licks his lips like he’s savoring the last taste of a fatty meal. He can tell from the look on her face that he’s actually right: she has been drinking it. He feels a rush of fondness mixed with anger come at that—Fond, because it’s proof that she takes even his smallest teachings to heart.

“No, seriously. That’s why I have a glass each morning. It makes cum taste sweeter. … Pussy, too.”

Anger, because it’s not him she’s been drinking it for.

He forces the latter emotion away with a deep breath and a long exhale. He doesn’t have to be angry, because nobody but him is ever going to taste that pussy again. … Well, almost nobody but him. “Okay, little one,” he sighs. “Time to make a choice.” He reaches around her and tucks the vibe back into Steve’s pocket. Then he looks down and meets her gaze.

Her pretty blue eyes are wide but dazed, high from the drugs coursing through her system. Bucky smiles and cups her face with both hands. She’s so fucking beautiful, with her round little face and plush lips, her pretty blue eyes. They’re near arctic in color—closer to Steve’s cornflower blue than Bucky’s own muddled blue-grey. Sharp and clear, like ice underwater, and positively gorgeous when they’re crying.

Lena sniffles and Bucky’s heart twinges with affection. He leans in and kisses her cheeks, cleaning up her tears. “You need to listen to me now, Polina,” he murmurs, feeling her shudder underneath his touch. “Are you listening?”

She whines a little, not able to give up completely on her stubbornness, even now. Bucky loves her so goddamn much. She tries to squirm in their hold again, but as soon as her over sensitized clit bumps Bucky’s thigh, she’s calming back down. “What?” she asks quietly, sniffling and trying to put on a stiff upper lip. It’s cute.

“It’s up to you, how this goes,” Bucky tells her. He looks over to his right and catches the eye of one of the widows. It’s Belova. He jerks his head for her to go and get the supplies that are waiting in the wings. She disappears and reappears with a rolling tray table of tattoo supplies. “This,” he says to Lena, “is what’s happening.”

She squints in confusion at it for a second or two—the tray of gauze and ointment, inks and gloves and gun—before her eyes register the stencil and read it … and go wide in realization. She jerks in their hold, thrashing, tossing her head back against Steve’s chest in another vain attempt to hurt him. “No!” she huffs, the sound breaking into a pitiful whimper at the end, despite her bravery. “No, you can’t!”

Bucky waits her out, and sure enough, her little tantrum dies down. She cries, and he wipes those tears away, too. “Shh,” he soothes. “It’s not so bad.”

“It is!” she cries. “I hate you. I hate you!”

“You’re a smart girl, Lena. You can’t tell me you didn’t always know you’d wind up here.” He tilts her chin up when she refuses to look at him. Her tearful, angry eyes meet his, and he offers her a tender smile. He gives her another kiss, just a peck on the lips, this time. “I always get what I want, sora mica,” he murmurs, right against her lips.

Little sister.

She shudders underneath his touch but doesn’t shirk away, and Bucky preens because he knows the war that’s going on in her head right now, even if she’ll never admit to it. Revulsion, mixed with lust, and darkness, and something too close for comfort to love. It’s what he used to feel, back before he decided to give up on conventional morality altogether. Poor little Lena, though, he thinks sadly. She hasn’t gotten there yet. Oh well, she’s young, she’ll learn.

“Now,” he tells her, thumbing over the familial cleft in her chin. “You have two choices, sweet pea. You ready to listen to ‘em?”

She grits her teeth and purses her lips in an angry little moue, stubborn thing, though she capitulates when Bucky tightens his grip on her chin. “Yes,” she whispers tightly.

Bucky smiles. “Okay. Now, two things are happening, no matter what,” he says, raising a warning eyebrow at her. “You’re getting this tattooed on your body … and Gleb back there is going for a long swim in the Hudson.” He waits her out while she throws another hissy fit over that, tears leaking and eyes burning up at him. Bucky sighs and looks off to the side until it’s over. Then, when she’s slumped back against Steve again, all tuckered out, he continues, “If you hold still like a good girl, I won’t take your dress off in front of all these people, won’t force any more orgasms outta you down here where everyone can see. And Gleb’ll get wheeled off to his morphine and an easy death. No torture, just the widow’s bite—lickety-split, no fuss-no muss.”

He watches as her eyes flare and her face crumples with suppressed emotion. She composes herself faster this time, though, and he continues softly, drawing her lip down with his thumb. “But, if you make things difficult? I’ll have you squirting all over this floor before I knock you out and ink you while you’re unconscious. And Gleb will have …” he looks off to the side, as if trying to parse out his words, “... mmm, he’ll have a very stressful weekend.” He tilts his head and narrows his eyes, squeezing her chin sternly enough that it smooshes her cheeks the barest bit. “Are you gonna be good?”

She looks torn for a second or two, but then her eyes slip closed in defeat. In Bucky’s hand, she gives the tiniest of nods.

Bucky’s pleased, but he wants more from her. “Tell me,” he commands. “You’re gonna hold nice and still?”

She sniffles and nods again. “Yes,” she breathes. “I’ll hold s-still. I’ll … I’ll be good.”

Her meek response satisfies him. Feeling a sudden wash of tenderness towards her, he leans down and presses their foreheads together and whispers, “Thank you, little one. You know how I hate to see you struggle.”

She shivers against him but doesn’t throw out any bratty quip. She keeps her eyes down, avoidant. Sighing, Bucky pulls back and steps aside to have a word with Belova. He tells her his plans for Gleb, and she gives a sharp nod and heads off to handle it. Bucky knows then that he can put the idiot man from his mind for good. The widows will more than take care of him.

Bucky returns to Steve and Lena, ready to get to work. Really, he’d prefer Natasha to be the one doing this. Bucky’s no amateur with the gun, but he’s not as good as she is. Oh well. He has a steady hand, and the design is extremely simple. Just that one phrase, in cyrillic:

собственность дракона.

Translated roughly, it means: Property of the Dragon.

“Steve,” Bucky says. “Sit with her on the bench. It’ll help keep her calm.”

Along with the cart of tattoo supplies, a rolling stool, a bench, and a padded armrest have been brought over from the Red Room. Steve all but lifts Lena and brings her over there, straddling the bench first before pulling her to straddle it in front of him. Bucky goes about setting up, snapping on a pair of black vinyl gloves while Steve wraps his arms around Lena’s waist and murmurs quietly into her ear. Bucky smiles at the pair of them. Steve cares about Polina, too, has known her for almost a decade, and he’s always had a knack for calming her down. A good thing, since Bucky’s so naturally gifted at riling her up.

He sits on the stool and scoots over to them. Lena watches him warily. Steve’s used both his and Bucky’s discarded ties to bind her arm down at the wrist and at the bend of her elbow, in case she gets second thoughts about her promise of good behavior. Bucky’s mouth quirks at the ingenuity, and his dick twitches at the optics. He’ll have to take a picture, one he’s got the ink in. A shot of her arm; reddened and bleeding with his mark, and his and Steve’s neckties framing it. Fuck, he might jerk off to it sometime.

He spends a minute getting the ink prepared, and then he carefully cleans her inner forearm and applies the stencil. It’s small but long, stretching almost the full length between the ties. It’ll take a good hour or more in its entirety, but Bucky isn’t a sadist: His little one has been through a lot, and they’ve got a long night ahead of them once they take her upstairs. Bucky wants that time to be spent mostly in pleasure, not pain. They’ll just do the outline, for now.

Lena whimpers when the paper peels back from her skin, revealing the design left behind. “Bucky,” she pleads, though one look up at him and her begging stalls. Bucky gives her a grim, apologetic look, and she knows. She knows she’s not getting out of this. She whines lowly and turns her face into Steve’s shoulder.

“Shhh,” he soothes her, his big arms wrapped tightly around her waist, comforting and restraining all at once. “You’ll be fine, hon. This is how it has to be.”

Bucky settles himself and the gun, then turns it on. Soon, the buzzing fills the small space between the three of them. In the background there’s still the noise of the club: music, chatter, bodies moving around. But in their little corner in the back, it almost feels private now that they’re centered around what Bucky’s about to do to her. “Okay, malyshka,” he murmurs, waiting until he’s got her full attention. “Watch the gun. Don’t want you jerking around in surprise.”

He’s a little taken aback by the emotions that hit, as he brings the needle down and starts inking her for the first time. He’s marking her permanently, branding her as his in a way that will never wash off, and from which she can never escape. And despite her tears and the ties binding her arm down, she is sitting there for him, allowing it. That goes straight to Bucky’s cock as sure as anything else he’s ever done to her, and he spends the rest of the session focusing on each line and curve, putting the red ink underneath her skin and trying to work out what it is that’s twisting up in his gut so bad. There’s lust and possessiveness, that much he expected, but there’s also a certain amount of … melancholy? Maybe. Whatever it is, it’s there too. A feeling of resolution, of an era coming to an end. Arousing and yet oddly bittersweet.

Lena’s fist is already clenched when he starts, but he can see her body stiffening further as the burn of the needle really sets in. Her arm flexes and her fingers curl harder into her palm, the veins popping against the strained lock of her inner elbow. Steve keeps up a gentle litany of praise and reassurance in her ear, half of which Bucky hears and half of which he misses due to his own focus on the gun. He’d love to take Steve’s place, be the one to hold her and comfort her through this, but that’s just not possible because he simply doesn’t trust anyone else to do the work.

He’s even glad that Natasha refused to do it, at this point. Because this isn’t just any tattoo. It’s personal and intimate. A promise as good as any wedding ring. Probably better-than, in the fidelity it’ll enforce. Not on Lena’s part, poor thing, but on the part of any man who might dare to entertain the idea of an affair with her. One look at her arm, and that idea would go straight up in smoke. These red words are branding her for life, in more ways than one. It’s only right that Bucky be the one to do it.

“Almost done,” he murmurs when he’s finishing up at her wrist. It’s the most painful area, and he regrets saving it for last. But his girl does beautifully and keeps relatively still, sometimes hissing or whining in pain but never asking for a break, and never twitching enough to throw Bucky off course. He finishes the outline and sits back, setting the gun aide on the cart and reaching for the salve. He smiles at his little one, who by now has stopped crying. “Good job, sweet pea,” he praises softly.

Her defenses are down from having all of her focus on something other than him for so long. She only blushes a little when he uses the nickname, and says nothing snarky back. Bucky’s heart pulls with it. In Steve’s lap, she watches as Bucky uses a tongue depressor to apply the salve in long, smooth strokes over the raw areas. She blinks at her arm like she’s fully waking from a dream. “... That’s it?” she asks, sounding surprised, maybe even disappointed—though that’s probably just Bucky’s wishful thinking.

“For now,” he tells her, bringing out the non-stick pads and adhesive wrap. He’s giving her all the aftercare that he’s neglected on himself—already the back of his neck and shoulders feels tight and unpleasant, and he doesn’t want the same for her. Steve pulls the ties loose to release her arm, and Bucky explains, “You have delicate skin, sweetheart. We’ll let this heal, fill it in another time. Add some other design elements, if you want.” He catches her look of surprise and smiles, then looks away before her expression can shutter on him. He gently applies the pads along her skin, wrapping her up in an opera glove’s length worth of neon pink animal print bandaging, nice and tight. “There you go.”

“Cheetah print, really?”

“Just special for you, my little hellcat. Don’t worry, you can take it off tomorrow.” He rolls out on the stool and goes around to stand just in front of the bench. Briefly, he meets Steve’s eyes, and they have a short, non-verbal conversation, at the end of which Steve nods smally in agreement. “Okay,” Bucky says, reaching out to palm Lena’s face.

She automatically goes to shirk away from it, but Steve whispers something in her ear—Bucky doesn’t hear what—and it makes her settle. She bites her lip and peeks up at Bucky through her lashes and ruined makeup. “I was good,” she whispers, like she’s half-sure Bucky’s going to revoke his end of the deal.

He tries not to let it show on his face, how that hurts him. “Yeah, sweetheart. You were very good.” He bends over to kiss the top of her head, then turns and searches out Belova. She’s standing next to Maximoff now, over at the bar. Bucky goes over and holds out his hand. Pietro shakes first, Yelena second. “Thank you,” he tells them. “For bringing her back safely.”

“Again,” Yelena says with a smirk and a semi-suppressed eyeroll.

“You should get a leash,” Pietro jokes.

“Or a homing beacon.”

Bucky waves them off (though the homing beacon idea has occurred before), telling them to go back to their drinks and enjoy their evening. He doesn’t bother asking if the Gleb issue’s been dealt with—he knows from the look on Belova’s face that it has.

Part four

Masterlist

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[steves-sub]

Submissive Sunflower

Chapter 2: The Flower Shop Invite

Summary: Steve comes to your flower shop with an invitee you couldn’t turn down.

Warning: hints at Steve being dark but nothing severe yet.

Tags: @patrickbatemanswifee @wickzbby @atnatt @slutalexis46 @apollosouls-blog @luvfromdixiedoll @buckyssupersoldier

@chemtrails-club @maxinehufflepuffprincess @teddybearsgrr @ripofflizzie @brasspistol @zxymsq @kandis-mom @foggyturtleknightangel @ah-beans0 @cjand10 @ashadash0904 @angiestopit @emerald-writes @shinytreefire @scarlethexelove @vonalyn @mememe7147 @lostinamazi @kattreffic

It was a beautiful autumn day. The flower shop that you were working at has been open for hours and not a single customer has come through. You weren’t surprised, you were lucky to get even ten customers a day. The wind chimes you set up outside the store could be heard through the glass door.

Was this job ideal? No but it was the best you could do in your situation. The owner of the shop had a room upstairs that he gave you at a discounted price if you just worked the shop 5 days a week. “It’s hopeless,” you sighed as you went to close up the shop. As you walked towards the door to turn the sign to close, the door opened and you felt a strong, muscular hand grab yours. “I hope you aren’t closing yet darling,” you heard the voice of your favorite customer.“Steve!” you proclaimed as you wrapped your arms around his waist. His thick arms did the same as you felt his scruffy beard on your collarbone. It feel like he was smelling you but you just brushed it off. “Hey little sunflower,” his deep voice rumbled.

Sunflower. That was his little nickname for you. The first time he came into the shop looking for flowers, you told him about them and how much they were your favorites. He loved them so much that he came back every week to get a new bouquet.

“I was a little nervous when you didn't come in at your usual time, but I’m really happy you are here!” You smiled at those blue eyes that you have grown to love. You couldn’t help but have a crush on this man. He was so sweet, kind, caring and made you feel special. No one has done that in a while. “Sorry angel, I got stuck at work,” he said as you noticed him roll up his sleeves. That was one of the things that bothered you about Steve. He knew everything about you but you knew nothing about him. He never talked about his work, his life, or who he was getting the flowers for. All he ever said was he lived with friends and the flowers were for him. But you didn’t care, you were just happy just to have a friend as kind as him.

“So, the usual for you?” You sweetly spoke as you started to gather a fresh bouquet of sunflowers. “Yes, and I have a request for you.” Steve stated and he walked towards the counter, hand in his pockets and the piercing blue eyes you have grown to love looking at you. “A request?” you quipped as you raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes sweetheart,” you heard him chuckle. You loved the sound of his laugh. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over, I have been telling the friends that i live with all about you, and they are very curious about who the sunflower is that I’m so fond of.” As he spoke, you felt his hard callous hands slowly grab yours. The thumb rubbing circles on your hands. “Really?” You said with excitement. That chuckle came out of him again. “Yes really darling. How about tomorrow? At 7?” He said.

You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as you spoke. You couldn’t believe this was happening. “I. I would love to. Yes!” You wrapped your arms once again around his strong frame. Those hands of his started to squeeze tightly around your waist. “Here,” you said as you let go. You quickly tied up the sunflowers into a nice yellow bow, just the way you know he likes it. He goes to reach for his card but you stopped him. “It’s on the house, and I’ll bring more friday.” The soft smile you gave him just made Steve chuckle. “Thanks my little sunflower, ill see you then” Steve said with a wink. As you watched the tall blonde walk away, you were already thinking about your future with him.

Little did you know, you two were thinking very different things

[howdoyousleep3]

Rating: Explicit (E) Word Count: 4.7K Notable Tags: Dom/Sub AU, Heavy Power Imbalance, Non-Con (from characters other than Steve and in the past, no major detail), Daddy Kink, Age Difference, Sex Trafficking, Human Trafficking, Submissive Auction, Angst With a Happy Ending, Depressive Thoughts, Depressed Bucky Barnes, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Crying, Subspace, Blowjob, Face Fucking, Orgasm Denial, Cock Cage, Size Kink, Size Difference A/N: This was originally supposed to be published in the last Kinktober I participated in under my Age Difference day. I've only read one story that was in the Dom/Sub AU and I was so taken with it, it's all I thought about as I wrote this. It's a universe where, kind of like Omegaverse, everyone has a designation of Dominant or Submissive. I didn't dive into it too heavily, but I left it totally up for my interpretation so...don't mind me lol. Compared to what I usually write, this one is kind of twisted and dark. Please read the tags and don't continue reading if it makes you uncomfy. ❤️

Read here on Ao3.

The lights in this room are much more dim than the ones in the showcase room they’ve just performed in. He feels the line of his shoulders relax at the sight, be it merely a smidgen, heart still hammering against his rib cage. His limbs continue to tremble unpleasantly, his head pounding, his hole wet and aching to the point of pain. 

He is used to this happening when he’s used without completion, climax other than his own being robbed from him, when he isn’t used for his purpose. He does as they’ve trained him though— he ignores his tender emotions and his body’s biological signs of unfulfilled submission. 

Bucky barely has half the mind to take in his surroundings, to lift his chin and glance around the room he’s quickly being shuffled into. It almost looks like a study, someone’s personal office or library. It’s deceivingly cozy with its maroon walls and moody lighting, a fireplace lit and in use on one end of the room, bookshelves lining the opposite wall. He’s slow to take in the bed in the center of the room, one that seems entirely out of place yet perfect in this setting, large and cloud-like and luxurious. 

The exhaustive ache that Bucky feels deep down to the center of his being yearns to curl up in the center of that bed like a kitten, to not be roused for hours on end. Instead he’s ordered to his knees on the rug next to it, the command settling unpleasantly on the nape of his neck like they always do. 

He looks down at himself, his nude and flushed form, eyes locking onto his hands bound and curled together in his lap, and he wonders how this is where he ended up in life. 

“Listen to me,” the handler tells him, voice unharsh yet still grating, the command one he’s forced to listen to. Bucky’s never enjoyed his designation, has rarely ever been comfortable being a Sub, but these moments are the ones he hates the most. He despises not having a choice, has a special kind of hatred for being commanded against his will, his body listening before his mind can fight against it. But he’s quick to respond, quick to mumble, “Yes, Sir,” because that’s what they’ve spent the last three months training Bucky to do. 

“You no longer belong to us,” the Dominant handler states without emotion, and even given the circumstances, relief kicks up into Bucky’s chest. “Your personal possessions are in this bag, your Dom will handle everything else once your bond is initiated. If it is initiated.” Bucky flinches. “You understand the reputation we hold here and the standards we’ve instilled in you, yes?” 

Bucky bites out another, “Yes, Sir,” before the handler is done moving purposefully around the room, coming to stand in front of Bucky. He doesn’t raise his head, just as he’s been taught.

“Good. I advise you to keep those in mind once you leave this place. You haven’t been the easiest Sub to deal with, James. I’d hate for your Dom to send you back here because you did not meet expectations. He won you fair and square with the highest bid; don’t make him regret that.” 

The severity of the situation Bucky’s been put in, the past few months, hits him in the solar plexus when he hears these words. He isn’t sure why his brain decides to catch up in this moment, why he decides to feel the weight of the past weeks here at the feet of his handler in the very last moment they’ll see each other, but he feels his chest constrict painfully. His hole aches in waves, mouth watering in preparation for what it thinks is coming, desperate, and Bucky bites back his whimper when he feels his dick wish to fill out. 

He never gets what he wants, what he needs, is always left feeling unfulfilled and purposeless. They’ve had to increase his dosage of meds they give him each day as a result of how affected he has become from touch after touch leaving him emptier and emptier. A Sub shouldn’t live like this yet here he is, having been picked up off the streets and trained to be the best of the best on such evil touches. 

He’s going to be so fucked up because of this place. 

Having been put on display in every possible way in the performance room during his shining moment, he wonders if this is the last time he’ll feel so used and hollow. Will his new Dom continue to leave him feeling so empty? Will he make Bucky do things he doesn’t want to do, use him against his will, take advantage of him and his designation? He feels so low in this moment he can’t see anything but that happening, of being owned and living this life of misery. Surely Bucky won’t survive. 

His handler doesn’t even say goodbye, doesn’t acknowledge Bucky as he leaves, and Bucky hates how much that hurts. He’s once again betrayed by his biological needs, betrayed by the intrinsic need to please and to obey, and even given the piss poor treatment they’ve put him through here, Bucky wishes his handler would leave him with more positive words, with the praise he so desperately craves. 

When he hears the door close behind the Dom, he can’t help the whimper that bubbles up and out of his mouth. 

His eyes don’t leave the floor because no one has told him he can raise his head, and even though he no longer belongs to this establishment, he can’t will his inner submissive to look up. Instead, his eyes lock onto the cage around his dick. He despises this thing. Before he was lured in with promises of a warm meal and an even warmer bed he had only heard of cock cages being utilized in either the most severe of relationships or for fun, no in between. He had never worn one until his training. 

He hates it, has tried taking it off on his own multiple times before his harshest of training had set in. He hasn’t come once during his time here, can barely remember what his own climax feels like. 

“Your pleasure no longer belongs to you, James. Your orgasms are not your own; they belong to your Dom.”

It’s ironic yet devastating to Bucky that all of this training, all of this pain, was pointless. Bucky could be a good Sub for someone, he knows it. He could give the right someone all of the things his training had brought out without the misery he’s gone through for these people. He could give his mind, body, and soul easily over to the right person. This line of thinking shifts into the only thing that brought him comfort each night; the only thing that helped him get the little sleep that he did— 

His Daddy. 

Well, hopefully his Daddy. 

If he’s the perfect man for Bucky, he’ll be his Daddy. 

And his knight in shining armor, this perfect Dom, his Daddy, would come one day to take him away from this hell. That’s what he dreamt about each night, that his Dom, strong enough for the both of them, big enough to easily cradle Bucky’s not entirely petite form close to his chest, would whisk him away from this place and give him everything he could ever need. His Dom that can teach him how to cook his favorite meals for him, his Dom that is patient, his Dom that is proud of Bucky. Every night when he needed comfort to sleep, this man would be the comfort Bucky needed to finally rest. 

Bucky wonders what his Dom is going to be like, what he’s going to look like, but most of all Bucky wonders if he is going to like Bucky. Surely he is attracted to Bucky if he got into a bidding war with someone else for Bucky, if he paid damn near a million dollars for Bucky’s bond, for his life. There is a sliver of hope that the highest bidder’s intentions are pure.

Bucky is so exhausted, right down to the bone, that he doesn’t even startle when he hears the door to the room open once more. He doesn’t lift his head, as he’s been taught, but this time he does it because of the onslaught of nerves that wrack his body. This is it, this is his new Dom, the one he’ll have for life, the one whose bond will be initiated tonight. With one last unmated deep breath, Bucky sends a wish out into the universe for his Dom to be kind, for him to show Bucky the love he’s never been given in life, to love Bucky. 

The sound of steady footsteps reach his ears at almost the same moment a sense of calm washes over Bucky’s being. It hits him in waves, drips down his spine like warm honey, a sensation so pleasurable his chest shakes with his caged sob. His nostrils fill with the scents of cinnamon and vanilla and a bonfire deep in the forest. His eyes well up with tears as he continues to look down at his hands, mind racing in disbelief at his body’s immediate reaction to his new Dom, a reaction he’s not experienced before.

Hope begins to seep into Bucky’s limbs as a pair of sleek, black boots come into view.

“James?”

Oh. 

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until his next exhale comes out as a choked sob. Upon hearing that voice the hope in his body bursts, shatters, into something more fierce, something that has him responding with a quiet and thoughtless— 

“Daddy?” 

He doesn’t look up, doesn’t let his eyes leave the floor, those expensive boots. He feels his hands tremble in his lap, can almost hear them do so. He isn’t given enough time to panic about addressing his new Dom by a title that wasn’t approved by him, wasn’t given permission to use, because his Dom is responding confidently. 

“Look at me, please.”

Bucky’s eyelids flutter upon hearing the gentle command in such a soothing, rich voice, and he takes a deep and shaky breath before listening like a good boy…

And immediately begins sobbing in full.

It’s the faceless man from Bucky’s dreams, he’s sure of it. He has kind ocean eyes, an otherworldly physical presence. There’s experience etched into every part of his being, from his graying hair to the wrinkles around his eyes to the calmness that sweeps off of him in waves. He smiles down at Bucky and it makes him feel like he’s the most precious creature on the planet. 

“Oh, my angel…”

This is the man that is going to save his life.

This is his Daddy. 

With his eyesight now blurry because of his tears, he doesn’t see the hand coming down before it cups his chin. There’s a strength in this grip that Bucky knows will soothe him, hold him, love him for the rest of his life. A thumb swipes at his tears, wiping them from his cheek. He can’t remember the last time he felt such comfort from another human being. Even before he was forced into this facility, through all his sexual encounters, gentleness and softness were not things he experienced. He’s almost forgotten what it’s like, to feel a reassuring touch. 

“James,” his Daddy reverently murmurs, stroking his thumb over Bucky’s trembling bottom lip. “Why are you crying, sweetheart?” 

He swallows thickly, his eyes roving over his Daddy’s face, taking a few seconds to selfishly drink the older man in. His body reacts to its Dom’s presence like it knows its Daddy is finally here, its biological needs taking over all other needs, roaring to life within him. Bucky’s eyes fight to cross when he takes in the size of his Dom’s denim-clad thighs, how he fills out his cozy sweater. His Daddy’s so big. He wiggles his hips where he sits, chin in his Daddy’s big hand. 

“I’ve just…I’ve…I’ve been waiting for you for so long,” is what Bucky ends up saying quietly, sniffling, and his Dom’s smile is slow and sweet, like he enjoys Bucky’s answer. 

“I’ve been waiting for you forever, James.” 

Those words feel like pure sunlight.

But Bucky shakes his head without thought, stops himself abruptly after two shakes. He’s reminded then of his handler’s words, that he was a difficult Sub. He can’t take the risk of being anything but the best Sub. He’s already afraid to lose his Daddy; he has to be good. 

But his Dom has caught his defiance. 

“What is it, James?” 

“Nothing, Sir.” 

His Dom doesn’t miss a beat. 

“No, sweetheart— no lies, no holding back, no unspoken feelings. I always want to know what you are thinking, what your feelings are. So tell me, James. What is it?” 

Christ. Bucky can’t help but sniffle again, unable to get his tears under control. His Dom is perfect. 

“B-Bucky,” he mumbles. “I go by Bucky. I don’t…I don’t like James.” 

His Dom’s smile is warm, his fingers that squeeze around Bucky’s chin reassuring. He repeats Bucky’s name, practicing it a few times, each one sending Bucky melting further into his head and surely into the floor. 

“Of course, sweetheart— Bucky. My name is Steve,” he tells him, and Bucky’s insides warm with more of that sunlight Steve is bringing into his life. 

Steve. 

A strong name for a strong man, a name that belongs to a man that gently commands attention. It’s the perfect name, or so Bucky thinks.

“But you can call me Daddy, Bucky.’

That’s the best name, the perfect name. 

Hands still tied together in his lap, dick still in its cage, Bucky turns his head and nuzzles his cheek into his new Daddy’s palm, the warmth and sheer size of it making him lightheaded. It takes him a moment to recognize that this is the beginnings of him going under, of finding that sweet space within. He’d gotten so used to being forced there, his designation being used against him to put him under, that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be sent there willingly. 

His whimpers seem endless even to his own ears. 

“Look at that,” Steve marvels from his place above Bucky, voice the most soothing of tones, a sensation in and of itself. He allows Bucky to nuzzle his cheek further into his palm, even as Bucky gives into the urge and desire to press kisses to his fingers. Such a forgiving Dom.

“I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you, that you’d be everything I’ve dreamt of having all to myself.”

Bucky sobs. The emotions that one sentence brings him is enough to beg Steve to not go any further. But Bucky is selfish, he is admittedly greedy. He’s been given nothing while being here, before this. He has continuously poured from a deserted and infinitely empty cup and has been given nothing when his heart, his mind, his body demands it, needs it, in order to survive. 

“Your tears,” Steve murmurs, interjecting his own shared line of thinking. “Are they good or bad, Bucky? Please tell me.” 

A request yet a command. A tender one. One Bucky must answer, is finally willing to answer. “Both,” is what he decides to admit. 

“Both?” 

He nods his head within Steve’s grip. “Yes, Daddy. Bad because…because I am sad for my past self. That I was never given a chance to be good and then said chance was forcefully taken away from me.” Before Steve can speak to those words, Bucky quickly continues. “But good because you’re here…you’re finally here. And I…I get to be so g-good for you.” 

Steve’s exhale is heavy, laced with a sound of pleasure that settles over Bucky’s own shoulders and neck. Bucky’s dick strains against its cage, his mind slipping from himself further. 

Steve sticks his thick thumb between Bucky’s lips and Bucky nearly sobs again, hiccuping around where he purses his mouth.

“You are extraordinary,” Steve tells him and Bucky truly believes it given his reverent tone. “The moment you stepped on stage, I knew it. I’ve been coming here for years. Did they tell you that? Years, Bucky.  I’m their hardest client to please, the one they couldn’t wait to be rid of. Money is of no importance, my preferences vague. Kept telling them I’d know when to bid, when the right Sub would be coming home with me.”  

Bucky sucks on Steve’s thumb harder, grateful to have something in his mouth as his Dom showers him with praise. 

“They even told me they’d go out of their way to find someone that fit what I was looking for, that we could forgo an auction altogether. I told them no.”

His Daddy is so powerful. 

Bucky slips further into his head. 

“Never once did I question myself; I knew you were out there. And when you stepped onto that stage with those legs and that mouth and those eyes…oh, kitten— you were made for me.” 

Bucky sways forward, head dizzy with need and relief curling together, tightly wound. Steve wraps his other fingers around Bucky’s chin, holding him steady. 

“And you’re going to be the sweetest, most affectionate boy for me, aren’t you? This is everything we’ve both been waiting for, isn’t it?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, laps at Steve’s thumb and sucks it into the back of his mouth. 

“You’re going to bring us so much joy through your submission, aren’t you? You’re going to bring us the purpose we’ve been craving. Together.” 

Bucky doesn’t know how to communicate that his feelings are terribly overwhelming, that he doesn’t know what to do with himself because of it. The force of his emotions leave his body trembling where he kneels. If Steve’s thumb weren’t in his mouth his teeth would surely be clacking against one another with the force of his tremors. His head spins in less of the dizzy way he’s been experiencing these past weeks and more in a euphoric way he’s always dreamt it could. 

His body already trusts its Daddy, leaning towards him and into his touch, loosening up further and further. The line in his shoulders softens, the tension in his thighs diminishes. Even with Steve’s thumb in his mouth, the tightness no longer residing in his jaw is obvious. 

Even as Bucky spent his nights dreaming of this moment, weeping for this moment, he never imagined it could be this perfect. 

But then Steve is reaching for his belt buckle with his other hand, the button on his black dress pants, and Bucky wonders if he is in fact dreaming. 

“Let Daddy give you something else to suck on, sugar. You look like you need it,” Steve purrs, reaching into his now open dress pants and pulling out his cock. Weeping nearly as much as Bucky has been, Steve’s cock is impossibly thick and deliciously heavy. It has Bucky’s hips wiggling once more, his vision going blurry as he’s presented with his Daddy’s cock for the very first time. He can’t stop the onslaught of sniffles and weepy eyes as he reminds himself once more that he’s so goddamn lucky Steve waited for him. 

He opens his mouth as soon as that cock is above him, letting Steve’s thumb pop from between his lips, whining as he does so. He can smell Steve from here, his warm scent with an added muskiness to it that has Bucky unabashedly groaning, tongue out. 

And then Steve pulls his balls out too, and Bucky nearly asks to be pinched. 

“Daddy…” 

“Gimme a kiss, sweetheart. Let Daddy feel that precious mouth.”

The moment the fat head of Steve’s cock lands on his tongue, Bucky feels the closest thing to submissive bliss he’s ever felt. It’s euphoric. The taste of him, this Dom, his Daddy, blooms on his tongue, bursts through his being. The taste of his excitement, his precome, forces another ragged noise from Bucky as he sucks Steve further into his mouth, savoring every inch of him. Steve’s thunderous and drawn out groan feels like a climax to Bucky.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve exclaims through an exhale, Bucky barely tethered to the earth. “That’s it. Show Daddy how much you’ve missed him, show him how perfect you are.”

In the three months he’s been here, servicing a Dom has not once felt like this. In his time before this, his time on the streets and beyond, he’s never felt solid within his submissiveness. The stretch of his jaw, the hot slide of velvet wrapped steel on his tongue and down his throat, the feel of Steve’s large fingers sliding through his hair; it all brings him a sense of purpose he’s failed to receive all these years. 

And he can’t help but sob around his mouthful. 

“I knew it, I…fuck, I knew you were made for me, Bucky” Steve tells him, voice full of awe and dripping with lust. “I can’t wait to see how far you drop, how far I can push you. You’re gonna let Daddy push you, aren’t you? You’re gonna let him learn all about you?” 

Bucky confirms Steve’s suspicions with another loud, garbled noise around his cock, one of obvious enthusiasm. He’s dropping hard now, wants to tell his Daddy he’s barely holding on, but then Steve’s hands are moving, holding Bucky’s head in place as he pulls his hips back. 

Using Bucky. 

What little headspace Bucky has left reserved for himself is used to marvel at how easily, how purposefully, it was for Steve to step into this role as his Daddy. 

He’d give Steve the world. 

He’ll give Steve whatever he wants, whenever he wants it, all the time. 

This is his life’s purpose now, being used for his Daddy’s pleasure, serving his Daddy. Being owned by his Daddy.

He’s left with no choice but to cry. 

Bucky opens up his throat as his eyes begin to close, leaning forward on his knees, letting Steve fuck his mouth. With an easy and sharp noise, Bucky immediately knows that Steve wants his eyes open and on him. He does just that, looking up at Steve as he sticks his tongue out obediently, moaning at the fullness of his mouth. 

“That’s it, that’s a good boy,” Steve murmurs, voice melting down Bucky’s spine as Steve’s fingers dig into his hair. “You’re so good, you’re already so good for your Daddy. Look at you, look how much you love sucking on your Daddy’s cock. You perfect baby Sub.”

Bucky’s head grows fuzzier, his dick aching, his core aching. He slurps around Steve’s cock but it does nothing to slow the trail of spit dripping down his chin and sliding towards his neck. Steve is a dream, an absolute dream. Bucky needs a communicator, needs someone who will listen and who will talk to him, especially when it’s filthy. Bucky wants to be talked dirty to, wants to experience that side of sex, especially when it’s praise. Especially when it’s from Steve. 

Without warning, Steve kicks his hips forward, a noise akin to a growl falling from his lips, his fingers tightening in Bucky’s hair. It’s a slip of his obvious control, his inner Dom breaking through, impatient. Bucky meets him full force with his own submission, moaning around his Daddy’s cock, showing him he can take it. 

“Yeah, you know what that is, don’t you? Your Sub knows a Dom when he feels one, doesn’t he?” 

Bucky’s whine is damn near desperate. 

“You know how hard it is for your Dom not to take you right here on this fucking floor, sweetheart? Makes me feel feral, the way I want to make you mine. Mhmm, your Daddy doesn’t want that though. Your Daddy wants to take you home, take you away from this place forever. He wants to treat you right.” 

Bucky swallows around his mouthful.

He can feel Steve’s groan all the way down here, down in his toes.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, sweetheart,” Steve tells him, his hands holding onto both sides of his face. He pulls his cock out of Bucky’s mouth just enough to where Bucky can only suckle on the tip of it given the restraint Steve has put him in. The connection of their eyes, the way Steve looks down at him, strikes a chord deep, deep within Bucky. 

He whimpers as he suckles on the big, swollen head of his Daddy’s cock as he listens. 

“I’m going to give you what you want. I’m going to give you my come, fill your pretty belly with it. I have a hunch that’s going to send you right under, which is perfect. You’re so perfect, angel.”

Bucky whimpers again. 

“And then Daddy’s going to take you home. And when we get home, I’m going to give you a bath and play with your little body until you’re nice and loose and ready to take my big cock.” 

Bucky whimpers again. 

“And then I’m going to fuck your little hole until it sends you right back under, until you come all over my cock, until our bond snaps into place and we finally and officially belong to one another.” 

Oh. 

Bucky sniffles as he lets Steve use his mouth, tears trailing down his cheeks and mixing with the spit smeared on his chin. He wasn’t sure if the person who bought him would want to bond so quickly, if they’d want to bond at all. It’s been implied to him since he got here that he was too difficult of a Sub to become bonded. To hear that Steve wants to take him away from this dreadful place, to their home, in order to bond with him is a dream come true. 

It’s what begins to send him under. 

“That’s it, kitten,” Steve pants, fucking himself impossibly deep into Bucky’s mouth. “That’s it, baby. Oh, I can almost feel you slipping from me. Have you stolen my heart already? Have you tempted my bond already, Bucky?” 

Bucky’s vision begins to grow fuzzy around the edges, his mind pulling in on itself, hypnotized by the drag of Steve’s cock in and out of his mouth. In and out, in and out, in and out. Blessedly not rough, but intense and all-consuming. His jaw nearly aches at the stretch of Steve’s girth and it’s— 

It’s bliss. 

Daddy’s hands in his hair, Daddy’s cock in his mouth, Daddy’s praise in his ear, Daddy’s eyes on his face, Daddy’s come on his tongue. 

“Daddy.” 

“You’re mine now, Bucky. No one is ever going to hurt you, never again. I’ll give you everything you could ever want as a Sub and as a boy. You’ll never wish for anything now that I’m your Daddy,” Steve tells him as he shoots off down Bucky’s throat, hands in Bucky’s hair, petting him as he pumps his hips.

His Daddy’s voice is steady and strong, full of promise and love. And as he kneels there at his Daddy’s feet with Steve’s warm come settling into his belly, his Daddy’s cock still in his slack mouth, Bucky finally, finally lets himself sink.

[littlemelaninfics]

So, I really want to get back into Dark! Writing..👀 18+ ONLY

That was honestly the whole reason I created this account, to separate my darker pieces from the more socially appropriate, if you will.

I don’t want that to be the focus of my page, but I do think I’ve deviated away from it a bit too far, so I just want to start incorporating it again!

If you have any requests, send the in!

Here are a few examples of my Darker writings:

TRIGGER WARNING

1.) Dylan O’Brien

2.) Steve Rogers

3.) Chris Evans

[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 

[huffelpuff210]

Ours Part 2 Soft Dark Alpha Stucky x Omega Reader

Ours Part 2 Soft Dark Alpha Stucky x Omega Reader

Warning: withdraw, anger, dark themes, kidnapping, drugging, held against will, confinement, forced relationship, manhandling, past abuse, 

Your senses slowly start drifting back, 

“Jesus Bucky how much of that did you give her? She’s been out for two days,” You hear a male voice, 

You can smell they were Alpha’s and you could feel your heart rate spike, You didn’t like Alpha’s, they terrified you, they made you uncomfortable. 

“The exact amount Tony told me to give.” You hear another voice, 

“Well obviously his math was off.” You hear the other voice say 

You slowly turn you head trying to wake yourself, 

“Steve.” You hear 

and suddenly it got quiet, 

You were trying your hardest to open your eyes but it was proving to be a bit more difficult.

Your heavy eyelid slowly flutter open, and you are now staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, 

“Thank god she’s finally awake.” You hear next to you, 

You slowly turn your head you saw two men, one had dark hair icy blue eyes and a metal arm, 

He smelled like pine, and cinnamon, it was almost intoxicating, the other man had sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, he smelled like the forest right after a rainstorm, 

these two were Alpha’s you were still in a bit of a daze,

“Good afternoon sleeping beauty you’ve been asleep for a few days, we were starting to worry.” The blonde says 

Then everything registered 

These two were Alpha’s and they kidnapped you, the terror running though your veins, 

You jump out of the opposite side of the bed, backing away from the two, your legs still a bit shaky, 

“You- You-” You couldn’t even speak you were so terrified, 

“Easy Omega were not going to hurt you.” The dark haired Alpha says with his hands up meaning peace, but you don’t trust these men, you don’t trust any Alpha, 

You could feel your heart pounding against your chest as it rose and fell rapidly, 

As you look around the room not entirely sure where you were. Memories of your past come flooding back, your father, whipping you with a piece of bamboo, just to cause you pain, your brothers holding you down as you cried, 

The small room, you feel your green eyes glow the icy blue as you start to panic, the two alpha’s look at you in shock and in their shocking state you make a run for it, bursting out of the room, past the living room and out the main door where there was more hallways, you run left your breathing, shallow and ragged having a panic attack as you were running you smelled many Alpha’s in the building, you find a stair well running as fast as you could down the stair well, while you were panicking at the same time, what did these Alpha’s want with you, you were on pills that block your smell, why did they kidnap you? 

suddenly someone jumped from above blocking your path, making you back up and look as small as you could possibly look it was the man with dark hair, you back into a corner, 

“P-Please don’t hurt me.” You say with a shaky voice, 

“No one is gonna hurt you doll.” He says approaching you cautiously 

You slide down the wall looking up at him, you’ve heard those words many of times, from your father, He was a ruthless Alpha, he blamed you for your mother’s death and always treated you as an object not a person, 

And because of that you didn’t want to be in the clutches of an alpha, but here you were terrified trapped like prey, helpless to do anything, panic taking over all your training in self defense forgotten, you were paralyzed in fear, your heart hammering against your chest, 

“look doll, no one is going to hurt you but you need to calm down, your on a verge of a panic attack.” He says 

you can still feel your eyes glowing the electric blue that your father said were disgusting that he would love to dig them out of your eye sockets. 

“Watch. In through your nose, out of your mouth, Deep breath in slow breath out.” He says 

Sadly you listen to what he says, you feel yourself calming down, your eyes turning back to their green color, 

“Good doll your doing good.” He says with a smile as he is kneeling in front of you as you look into his eyes and look down quickly, 

They only want one thing from you. 

“Now why don’t we go back to the room so we can talk?’ a voice to your left says it was the man with blonde hair, you have no idea how long he was there you were too much in a panic to notice, 

You hesitate, 

“You don’t really have a choice in the matter doll, we are just giving you the option to walk.” The man with the dark hair says, 

You stiffen and swallow thickly, you nod slowly standing up, they both walked aside of you, 

they both were massive compared to you, nothing but muscle you stood no chance against these alpha’s even if you used self defense against them, they would break you in half like a twig, 

the three of you arrive back in the room, it was massive, you didn’t notice before since you were in such a panicked state, 

“Now let’s sit and talk.” The blonde says with a smile as you stood there still in disbelief that all of this was happening. 

[marvelvillian23]

Any Dark Steve or Dark Buck fic recs? I’m talking dark dark like close to, if not altogether dead dove. Multiple chapters please.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 4002

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, kidnapping, cannibalism, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, ignoring of sexual boundaries, dub-con bordering on non-con, (mostly humorous) gore, (mostly humorous) body horror

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen" ... or something like that

10. Acquired Taste

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter. Story Masterlist

Bucky:

Bucky typically has two avenues, when it comes to acquiring new product.

1) Conduct recon, establish a relationship with her/him (though usually her), lure to a secluded location, incapacitate (usually via roofies)

2) Conduct recon, stab & grab on site (needle, not knife—jesus he’s not a monster)

Each avenue presents its own advantages and risks. Relationships and dates take more time and work, they don’t guarantee he’ll get the access he needs, and he runs the risk of someone else in the victim’s life learning about him before they’re disappeared. Stab & grab is by far his preferred method, but he has to be extremely mindful of security footage. Everything’s recorded these days, and in a city like New York, people live in each other’s pockets. Which method Bucky chooses usually comes down to how isolated the candidate’s life is. Carlo made his pick for who Bucky’s got to pay him with, so Bucky drives into the city early Monday to begin his reconnaissance process on Erica Buccanetti. He spends that Monday through Wednesday 7am-10pm, learning all about her.

Erica is twenty-nine. She’s a short, white, “curvy” woman of middling education who works at the DMV. Her job alone makes her deserving of what she’s going to get, Bucky thinks. Erica works Monday through Friday, gets in at 8:55, eats lunch at her desk, and clocks out no later than 4:50 every day. Erica goes to a gym after work and runs on the treadmill until she looks miserable and exhausted. Erica takes the train home to her duplex in Alphabet City, where she has a cat and drinks wine and…

Bucky tosses his binoculars aside, exasperated. “Dammit.”

Erica has three housemates. Fuck.

He can’t do a stab & grab when there are roommates, certainly not three. It’s too risky. Now he’ll have to put in the extra effort to try and run into her somehow, strike up a conversation, get a date or three.

He puts the car in gear and speeds down the block, eager to get on the highway and get home to Steve. He tunes the radio to an 80’s station he likes and taps out the beat as he navigates traffic.

This is the last time, he swears to himself, the absolute last time he lets a client pick their target. It’s too much pressure on Bucky, having to succeed with that one specific girl. Better to have a handful of potentials going, scoop up the one who makes herself the easiest victim. It’s not like most of them don’t do a bang up job of it.

Twenty-some years of “stranger danger” and true crime shows are usually enough to cement the “it won’t happen to me” mindset. Sometimes they’ll even find the right moment to throw out a lame, faux-suspicious “You’re not a serial killer, right?—haha just kidding!”

Bucky thinks it’s a hoot. Obviously these bitches don’t follow the eastern principle of karma.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday nights, he gets in very late, after midnight. But he still pops down to check on Steve. He brings them both a drink, hands Steve his, then slides down the far wall to sit. “Ugh.”

“How was your day, honey?” Steve asks. Sarcastically, but at least he’s making jokes.

“Long,” Bucky says, tipping back his old fashioned. They both like them. Maybe it’s become one of their things. “So for this payment, I let Carlo pick his girl,” he says, letting his eyes slip closed as he rolls out the tight muscles in his neck. “Stupid.” Steve is quiet for a long time, and Bucky suspects he’s staring at him. He doesn’t open his eyes to find out. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve says. “Just … wondering about the logistics of it, I guess.” He’s quiet for another long moment, the ice clinking in his glass telling Bucky when he takes another sip, and then another. “So … are you bi?”

Bucky opens his eyes. “What?”

Steve shrugs. “You date them to get to them. Does that mean you’re into women?”

“Well …” Bucky is, but … “I prefer men,” he says. “By far. But the clients want women, so that’s what I supply. It’s pretend, Steve.”

“Mm.”

Bucky narrows his eyes, sensing Steve’s judgment and not liking it. “I pretend to date them. Briefly. If I have to.”

Steve shrugs and looks away dismissively. “Seems kind of mean, to me.”

“It’s not!” Bucky scowls, straightening up from where he’s been sitting slumped against the wall. “I’m totally nice to them!”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, until you start harvesting their parts for food.”

Bucky glares at him. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.”

“Yeah maybe we shouldn’t.” Steve sniffs and looks away. “Not exactly great to hear all about how my boyfriend’s a serial killer.”

Bucky brightens up some at the word ‘boyfriend’. “I’m not, you know. A serial killer.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise sky high. “Oh really? So what would you call it when you kill people, ya know, serially?”

“I don’t get a thrill out of murdering them,” Bucky insists. “I keep them alive as long as I can.”

“I’m sure they appreciate that so much.”

“I keep them comfortable!” Bucky defends. “This is a nice place! I give them gourmet food, they’re on tons of pain meds. They don’t feel a thing.” Steve isn’t even looking at him now, and Bucky’s mood sinks. “... They’re not nice people, Steve,” he says darkly. "They deserve a hell of a lot less than what I afford them.” He watches Steve for a reaction, but doesn’t get one.

Steve just tosses back the end of his drink and fishes out the cherry. He pulls it off the stem with his teeth, chewing it while staring Bucky down. “Done,” he says, pushing the glass in Bucky’s direction.

It’s like he’s saying the conversation’s done too. Bucky sighs and shoves up to standing. He goes over and picks the glass up and gives Steve a long, rueful look. “Eileen,” he eventually says.

“What?”

“The woman in the other room." He nods out towards the hallway. “The one you saw. Her name was Eileen. And that’s whose kidney I had for dinner the other night.” Steve’s eyes widen a little, and Bucky smiles placidly. “Yeah. Good old Eileen. She was thirty two you know. Divorced but seeing someone new. She had a daughter. Cute kid: Tracy. She’s like, seven, eight? Has freckles and pigtails, likes Pokémon.” Bucky shrugs, then lets the mild expression slide right off his face. “Eileen was letting the new boyfriend rape her.” He gets satisfaction from the way that Steve’s eyes widen further and his lips part without a comeback. “Hm, yeah.” Bucky throws back the end of his drink and crunches down on the pieces of ice that float into his mouth. “So, Steve, when I tell you that you really shouldn’t feel bad for these people? You really shouldn’t.”

He turns and leaves before Steve can think of any other arguments. It’s good, Bucky thinks. It’ll give him time to think. Bucky didn’t come to grips with all of this overnight, after all. He can’t expect Steve to, either.

Steve:

In the basement, Steve has lots of time to think. In fact that’s all he does other than sleep. He thinks about the chances of anybody ever finding him here, figures they’re probably low. Bucky’s done this before, maybe dozens of times. He knows how to get away with it. Steve thinks a lot about that, about how there are a bunch of rich as fuck cannibals out in the world, just existing and merrily eating people. How Bucky eats people and thinks that it’s totally fine. How he likes the taste of eating people. It’s nuts.

Steve does wonder, sometimes. What’s it taste like? He feels halfway sick with himself when the thought occurs, but it does occur. It must taste good, he thinks, to warrant such effort and risk. It must taste really damned good. At least to Bucky and his rich friends it does. Steve is sure he’ll never find out for himself. He wouldn’t be able to stomach it.

He thinks about the women who came before him, about how they must’ve felt, trapped down here while Bucky slowly sold off their meat. How many have there been? Steve wonders. And what were their crimes that got them sentenced to this? How did Bucky know they were bad? Steve can’t figure it out, but he also can’t forget what Bucky told him so seriously about Eileen the other night. It sits in his mind, coloring his memory differently. Now when he thinks of Eileen lying on the floor of her cell, begging him for help, he doesn’t feel as much pity for her as he used to. He doesn’t feel as much horror when he remembers her limbless torso wriggling pathetically under the sheet.

Bucky could be lying of course, just making it up so that Steve will accept him more readily. But somehow Steve doesn’t think so. Bucky’d had this look in his eyes when he said it. He’d looked vindictive, and vindicated. Steve shivers as he remembers it. Bucky truly does not have any compunctions about what he does, and he expects Steve to come around to it. Steve doesn’t think he can do that. He’s just hoping against hope that he can pretend long enough to convince Bucky. Long enough until he can get his chance for escape and take it.

He thinks about Carlo, working on the cell down the hallway. Steve doesn’t see him much at all, just hears the sounds of his tools whirring, the smell of fresh wood being sawed, concrete being poured, him taking a piss in one of the other cells' toilets every few hours.

At first Steve does wonder what he might be able to say to try and entice the man to help him escape. But he settles on a big fat nothing. There’s nothing Steve could offer him to get him to take that risk, no way. And it’d be too big a gamble to try anyways. He doesn’t want Carlo to alert Bucky to his attempts at scheming, which Bucky warned Carlo would do if Steve acted up. So Steve keeps his mouth shut when the man arrives and departs each day.

Carlo doesn’t say anything to him. He probably figures that Steve’s dead meat anyway.

Steve considers that maybe he is, and Bucky’s just lying to him to keep him calm. Maybe Bucky tells all the women that they have a chance for survival, if only they’re good and don’t act up.

It’s fucked, but Steve imagines Bucky doing it—taking little pieces from him until there’s nothing left to do but put an end to him. He imagines Bucky kissing him lovingly, then injecting something into his veins and harvesting his internal organs. He imagines Bucky working in the attractive kitchen upstairs; humming a tune, cutting Steve up, pan searing his kidneys and eating them with a Beaujolais.

Steve wonders if he’d taste any different than everyone else Bucky’s ever eaten. Probably not.

Stringy, he thinks, looking down and assessing his arms and legs and torso with a novel sort of appreciation. Steve’s so thin and so tough, he’d probably make a horrible meal.

Bucky:

He plans it out meticulously, just like he always does. But even after all these years (fifteen, to be exact) he still gets that nervous feeling every time he makes his move. Stab & grabs don’t get to him nearly as much. Those are easy, impersonal. It’s the women he has to introduce himself to and flirt with and feign interest in and good intentions for that cause the nerves. He’d call them butterflies, but that seems cruel to compare his meet/capture/kill nerves to first date nerves. When he met Steve, it was a whole other feeling. What he’s about to do now isn’t the same, it’s not innocent like that, and he doesn’t need to pretend that it is.

Bucky knows he’s actually like, the perfect guy for this. He’s good looking and a natural flirt, excellent at making conversation and getting people to like him and to want to open up to him. Women tend to feel instinctively safe around him, so normally he’s guaranteed success in the “meet cute” department. It’s just that ... well …

He’s getting on in age these days, alright? He’s a—very damn handsome—37 years old now, and unfortunately for him, his clients’ tastes tend to stay the same, meaning the pervy old leches keep wanting their women rare at 20-ish. Bucky still has a very high success rate, but there’ve been a few college-aged girls who he approached wrong and they turned their noses up at him.

But he dyes his greys now, okay? He does the whole skincare regime, does Botox (conservatively—he’s got taste). And he’s learned to dumb himself down a bit when he’s going after the younger ones; talk a little smoother, a little less cultured, dress more age-appropriate. Turtlenecks apparently send off the wrong vibe. Unless the girl is into the whole Daddy thing, then it works in his favor.

Anyway, it’s not that big of an issue. All he has to do is flash his car or casually wear a Rolex on a date and even the most dimwitted or discerning potentials fall all over him. Bucky could give straight guys lessons, he swears.

He drives into the city wearing joggers and sneakers and a too-tight tee shirt, hair artfully tousled and earbuds draped around his neck in show. He goes into the gym, into the locker room, spritzes water around his hairline and the neck of his tee shirt, then bumps into her outside—when she’s on her way in, not out. No woman feels sexy after a workout (at least not the kind Erica is torturing herself with)—and exclaims in concern when she stumbles. Ohmygod, I’m so sorry! He grabs her forearm and lets the other hand brush over her waist as he “makes sure she doesn’t fall”. Are you okay?

Her eyes catch on his smile and his biceps right away, so Bucky's confidence is bolstered. He spends the next twelve minutes flirting with her, telling her his name (James), and how glad he is that he at least bumped into the prettiest girl at the gym (not true). Her eyes light up when he mentions that he’s a doctor, and shortly after that he’s typing his burner cell number into her phone. I put myself down as ‘handsome stranger whom you’re definitely gonna call’.

She titters at his joke and smiles, obviously tickled pink as they’re saying goodbye. “Yeah. I’ll um, I’ll call you. Maybe we could meet up for drinks or something?”

“Great!” Bucky shoots her a wink to seal the deal and jogs off down the block. He stops once he’s around the corner and starts walking at a normal pace back to his car. He hums a tune to himself, pleased at how easy that’d been. Now he can get home and probably not have to go out again until Saturday. If Erica’s as easy as he thinks she is, he shouldn’t have to go on many, if any, other dates.

Steve:

“Hey.” Bucky knocks on the doorframe as he slides it open. He steps in, head tilted, cautious smile playing at his lips.

Unfairly handsome, Steve thinks. Those women don’t stand a chance. “Hey.”

“I was hoping you’d still be awake. Wanted to say goodnight.”

“You get her number?” Steve asks. Because he knows that’s what today was—bump into Erica day.

Bucky seems wary, but he comes in and engages anyway. Steve almost feels bad for him. “Yeah,” Bucky says, toeing at the carpet. “Taking her out on Saturday.”

Steve rolls his eyes, scoffing. “‘Taking her out’, yeah.” He sees the hurt flash across Bucky’s face though, and feels bad about it. Ridiculous, but he still feels bad. “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking away. What else is he supposed to say? I understand? He can’t say that when Bucky’s holding him prisoner in his basement. Steve’s literally chained to the floor right now.

He sighs again, disappointed. He’s never been so disappointed in anything in his life. He fucking aches with it. Enough to cry, sometimes, if he thinks enough about Bucky’s smile over a martini glass, his bad dance moves in Steve’s apartment, his body in Steve’s bed. What they'd had together, how it'd felt like they were building something, something to look forward to. Steve bites his tongue so he doesn’t start tearing up when Bucky’s standing there. He doesn’t want to look like another weak victim, even though he knows he is. “You seemed like such a nice guy,” he murmurs, not looking at him.

Bucky comes over and kneels down in front of him. He looks so sad. “Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to palm the side of Steve’s face. He hums when Steve lets his eyes slip closed and leans into it.

Crazy, what a little bit of isolation will make you feel, Steve thinks.

“I miss you, Steve. I promise you this isn’t going to last forever.” When Steve just breathes silently, Bucky strokes his thumb over his cheek. Steve shivers. “Hey, would you want to go on a date with me?”

Steve’s eyes open. “What?”

Bucky smiles softly. “A date. You’ve been so good this whole time, and I miss you.” He leans forward and pecks a kiss to his lips. It’s brief, but it still makes Steve’s lips tingle. “I miss spending time with you.” Bucky’s eyes flick over his face. “So how about it, huh? You want to come up and just hang out one night? I can make us something. We’ll have drinks, maybe watch a movie?”

Steve blinks, feeling so odd at being asked a question like that. One of the things he thinks about to pass the time is what he and Bucky might be doing right now, in their new relationship, if Steve hadn’t opened the basement door. “A movie?” he repeats softly. The idea of getting to leave this boring room for anything is tempting. Steve wants to escape of course, but even if he knew he couldn’t, he still thinks it’d be nice to get to do something. Even if it’s with Bucky. “Yeah,” he breathes, hopeful. He hasn’t been allowed upstairs in days, not since he took a shower. “M-maybe I could …” he cuts himself off, remembering how Bucky had taken advantage of the last time, how he’d touched him. And Steve was weak. He’d let him do it.

“Maybe what?” Bucky asks, looking so kind. He always does, like he’s just a kind, caring guy who also happens to keep Steve chained in his basement. “Steve? What were you going to say?”

Steve smiles and shakes his head. “Mm, nevermind.” He doesn’t need a shower. “Nothing.”

Bucky seems unhappy about whatever Steve’s not saying, but he doesn’t press him any further. He takes a deep breath and stands back up. “I won’t be out so late anymore,” he tells him. “Just a trip or two more to the city. You can have your real meals back again, no more of this junk food.”

Steve nods. Bucky’s left him with plenty of snacks these past few days, but Steve has missed the hot meals. He’s missed seeing Bucky three times a day, even missed the attention Bucky gives him when he’s eating. “Okay,” he says.

Bucky stands there for a long minute, staring at him. Steve keeps his eyes on the carpet but he can feel the weight of Bucky’s gaze. Eventually he hears Bucky sigh, then leave through the door. Steve looks up to try and catch sight of him on the way out, but he’s already moved on down the hall.

That night Steve falls asleep thinking about what it’ll be like, once there’s another person in the basement with him.

Bucky:

Bucky meets her for the aforementioned drinks. He’s dressed nicely, in a black button down and slacks and nice shoes. He wears the Rolex, because Erica’s got three housemates so flashing his wealth at her can’t hurt. He greets her with a smile and a hug at the bar, and they both settle in and order their drinks. Bucky asks her about her life, quickly figures out that she’s body conscious and makes sneaky little comments about how he likes a woman that doesn’t slip right through his fingers. She eats that shit up, and before Bucky knows it, she’s excusing herself for the bathroom and leaving her third cocktail behind.

Too fucking easy.

Bucky picks up both their drinks and informs the bartender that they’ll be moving over to that table in the dark corner over there. The bartender gives him a nod, and Bucky nods back. He can’t have the guy seeing it, when he slips the roofie in her drink.

He’s learned to crush them up into a Splenda packet. It masks the bitterness and then if he does get caught, it just looks like he’s sweetening the drink. Erica returns from the restroom and he flags her down to their new spot. “More privacy,” he purrs at her, and she giggles and sits down next to him.

They continue to flirt and talk about pithy little topics until he can tell that she’s starting to feel the effects. “Hey,” he says, not wanting her to be stumbling before they leave the bar. “I know this is fast but… I dunno, I just really like you.” He says it all bashful, like he’s embarrassed of himself, and she eats that up, too. “Would you maybe wanna go back to my place? We could have another drink, talk and listen to some music, or…”

He trails off, and she gives him an enthusiastic, “Sure, okay!” sloppy at the edges from how the drugs are creeping into her system now. She hasn’t realized it yet. Bucky has to get her out of this public place before she does.

“Great,” he says, smiling. He offers her his arm like a gentleman (and to make sure she’s steady enough on her feet to not draw attention), and she simpers and holds onto him and they head out. Bucky sees her recognizing the type of car that he drives as he opens the door for her and she gets in. She tucks her lips in like she’s trying to keep herself from outright grinning, which makes Bucky chuckle as he slides into the driver’s side and shuts his door. “Buckle up,” he tells her sweetly. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

She giggles and obeys, and Bucky thinks about how she’ll probably be so easy, in the basement. Girls like her just want to be loved and approved of so badly. She’ll probably go from the Depression stage to Acceptance so fast, it’ll make his head spin. He’s glad. It’s always easiest for those girls. They suffer the least. And despite the fact that Bucky knows about Erica and her little brother who died under “suspicious circumstances” in 2009, he still doesn’t want to torture her. He’s not a sadist.

He’s karma.

She’s still conscious when they get on the highway, enough to look out the window and make a cute little confused noise. “Mm. You said your place’sin Tr’becca?” she slurs.

Bucky smiles and pats her hand. “Yeah. But I’m taking you somewhere else.”

It’s cute, how she pouts and tries to protest that. Bucky’s almost tempted to say something right then and there. But he doesn’t. He always likes to save the Big Reveal for when they’re settled in their rooms and fully sober. He likes to have a drink in hand, be relaxed in something comfortable. Really settle in for the show.

“Just close your eyes,” he soothes her, watching her fade out. “We’ll be there soon.” She passes out and Bucky smirks, thinking about how she’s about to get hers.

Because Karma’s not a bitch.

It’s a plastic surgeon who likes to cook.

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[steves-sub]

hey sluts ;)

okay so basically I’m going to combine every single one of my kinks into one whole series called The Runaways Slut (maybe a different title idk help me out)

Premise is After Civil War, Team Cap is currently hiding from the world. Steve, Nat, Bucky, Sam, and Wanda are staying in a secluded cabin in the woods. While on a grocery run, Steve spots you and he knows the team has to have you. And they will one way or another.

This fic is going to be a huge Dark!Team Cap fic. Warnings I can think of for sure is Dom/Sub dynamtic, kidnapping, hypnotism (Wanda coming through with my favorite kink; please don’t judge it’s hot), drugging, and loads of smut. If you have any suggestions or wants a certain link in there shoot me an ask. I really hope you guys enjoy this!!

[smutconnoisseur]

Legendary Outlaw

Pairing ⊵ Dark!Beta!Sheriff!Bucky Barnes x Outlaw!Alpha!Steve Rogers

Warnings ⊵ No Archive Warnings Apply

Rating ⊵ E

Word Count ⊵ 1.4k

Tags ⊵ AU: Wild West, Non- traditional ABO dynamics, Consensual non-consent, extreme Dubious consent, Alpha!Steve, Beta!Bucky, Knotting, Kinks, Bondage, Sexual roleplay, Power imbalance, inappropriate use of lassos, Come as lube, basically just filthy smut.

Summary ⊵ Steve is an outlaw, a good one, but an outlaw all the same. When he catches wind of a mating run in the area for Alphas to find a match, he risks more than his livelihood to participate.

What he doesn’t know is that across the valley, one crooked sheriff is counting on his attendance.

Square + Prompt Fills ⊵

Ⓞ⓶ + Hogtie | All Caps Bingo | Card # AC 1094 | All Caps Bingo Masterlist | @allcapsbingo

Ⓝ⓸ + Kink: Blindfolds | Stucky Bingo | Card # R40101 | Stucky Bingo Masterlist | @stuckybingo

Author's Note ⊵ Nothing too sinister, contrary to the theme.

Moodboard is my own | Ao3 Link | Masterlist | AO3

[rosyxcc]

I’m just curious. Where does it clarify that this is in fact Bucky and Steve RESCUING the reader from being kidnapped, and not being the ones who kidnap her? I’m just curious! I’m just wondering! I’M JUST CURIOUS! It’s a very innocent question! I’m just curious about what impression this was supposed to give! I’m talking to the author, and currently waiting for a reply after giving my reasoning, and I couldn’t resist saying this SOMEWHERE! To clarify: I did enjoy the fic, a lot, it was very nice, and it was a lot fluffier than I expected, and it was very sweet, and I did like it. HAVING SAID THAT. It was very definitely not what I expected. I feel duped. I liked it, but like, clarification? Maybe add a tag that says “rescued reader” or “rescue mission” or “saved from abuse” or “reader/JERK” or SOMETHING! Please? It would be nice.

… honestly the funniest part is that in the comments, I think the author thought I was upset about it being dark. Like, it sounded like they were thinking I was expecting something lighter because of the description, and didn’t see the tags, but no, I actually was expecting something much darker, and completely misinterpreted the description. I kinda feel bad for that author...

[suchababie]

WHAT THE FXUKKKKKKD EJJENJSNSJJENSJSJSNSNSJJWBSJWKSNSJKW EXCUSE MEESES

I love this. This is exactly I’d do tbh. Because of fear, you have no choice but to oblige or else get tortured and making it worse. I love this fic.

fawn

pairing: dark!stucky x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY. kidnapping. noncon/dubcon. only bucky x reader smut. pet names. if i’m missing something important pls lmk!

words: 6.3k

notes: this is what i wrote when my power went out on christmas lmao. if this does well and people like it i’d definitely consider a part two with more stucky smut - just let me know if you guys like this and would read a continuation. 🖤thank you in advance for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated!

One click. No flame. Another click. Still nothing. Huffing, you readjust your hold of the lighter. The smell of Christmas already permeating the air, the aroma from the opened but still unlit candle bringing you the slightest bit of ease.

It was cold already and now with the heater out, it was biting. Regrettably your blankets were still sitting in your washer, and with the lack of power, they’d be there until it came back on and you could get them in the dryer.

You made to ignite the lighter again and it finally gave you a flame. Once you had your candle lit, you eased back down onto the couch. The sun was setting and the chill from outside was already seeping into your apartment. Pulling your knee highs back up, you sighed, taking in the darkness that would soon swallow you completely.

So much for finishing that stupid puzzle. You couldn’t see anything. The rattling of the balcony door pulled you out of the silence and had the pit that was already growing in your stomach grow deeper.

Voices from outside, coming from the hallway distracted you from the unpleasant shaking of the door. It was the wind, you knew that, but with each moment, it grew darker and darker and the unexpected noise was unsettling to say the least.

You were alone. And the solitude was welcome, mostly. That underlying, gnawing feeling of loneliness that was somehow always there, no matter how hard you tried to shake it, was starting to get the better of you. Momentarily. Always passing eventually. Or, more accurately, always shoved back down eventually.

The darker it got, you somehow found yourself settling further and further into it. As if it was welcoming you back. The silence, the flicker of the candle, the scent of pine and vanilla softly filling the room. This was okay. This was nice, even.

You felt yourself beginning to doze off, but the cold worked to keep you awake.

It wouldn’t be too long before they got it back on. An hour, tops. Then you could dry your blankets, maybe get a few more pieces of the puzzle put together before you slunk back into bed. A very merry christmas, indeed.

Sun was completely set now, no shadows coming in from the windows. No more watching the swaying of the trees outside. Just flickers of the candle flame dancing along the wall.

Then you heard it again. The rattling. If you had your tv on, or music playing, you were sure you wouldn’t have heard a thing. But in the silence, even a quiet disturbance was audible. Then there was that feeling again. That pit in your stomach. Something’s not right, it called.

Paranoia. That’s all it was.

Intuition, your mind argued.

It was Christmas night, most people were still gone for the holiday weekend, your building near desolate. Who would it be? When do crimes even happen here? It was ridiculous to worry. It’s the wind. Of course it’s the wind.

The creaking that sounded next, though. That wasn’t as easily explained. You froze, just listening. To ensure you heard what you thought you did. Was someone on the balcony? How would that even be possible? You waited. And waited. No more noise. But something was telling you not to let it go. You stayed seated, curled up into the corner of the couch, just staring at the door. You couldn’t see it clearly, the flame not strong enough to illuminate that far from its place on the coffee table. But you could see enough. Enough that as you watched, you suddenly saw the handle move, as if someone outside was opening it.

You always wondered how you’d react in situations like this. Flight or fight, what would you do?

Neither, apparently.

Because you didn’t move. You were like a deer in headlights.

Right, freeze response. You’d forgotten about that possibility. There was another, too, actually. What was that one called? You couldn’t remember.

F..it starts with an f…

The whole while you were trying to think, your eyes were trained on the door. You just watched. Watched as the figure cloaked in darkness let themselves into your apartment. Did they know you were here? Would they care? You weren’t even sure you were breathing as you stayed as still as possible. Maybe the darkness would conceal you. This stranger would take whatever they wanted, and you just prayed the lights would stay out until they were gone. Just be still. Be silent. Not that you could move or make a sound if you’d wanted to. It was like you were paralyzed by fear. The figure didn’t seem to notice you, not even looking in your direction.

The candle. The candle was lit. Was this person oblivious? It was a dead give away that someone was home. The intruder stayed quiet, didn’t seem interested in anything as he walked from the balcony door, across the living room to the front door.

Without thinking, your body was moving of its own accord. You rushed quietly behind them, into the hallway, still encompassed in the dark. You felt your way to your room as fast as you could without running into any walls or making sound.

Your front door opened, and you were confused now. Were they leaving? What was the point of breaking in in the first place?

“Took you long enough.”

The voice of a man, husky and gruff sounded from the front room.

“Shut up,” another man spoke, irritation clear in his voice. “Lock the door.”

Your brain stopped working for a moment. Two voices? Why were there two voices? Why were these men here? Do they know you’re here? What do you do now? Run? Hide? Where was your phone?

Dead. Right. It had died right before the power went out, you’d put it to charge but obviously that wasn’t happening at the moment.

A flash of light hit the hallway as the men walked past back into the living room. You didn’t want to move. Your room was so close, but you didn’t want to risk making a sound and bringing any attention to yourself. So you stayed frozen.

“How is breaking and entering into a crappy apartment supposed to be a christmas gift?” one of the men asked.

“It’s what’s in the apartament that’s the gift,”

“What’s in the apartament?”

“I should’ve worded that better,” the second man corrected. “Not what, but who.”

Three seconds behind. You were running on a delay now. Who?

You.

Three seconds.

Two sets of footsteps down the hallway.

One beam of light shining right at you.

Frozen. For a moment. No noise escaping you. The light too bright, blinding you as you winced. You still couldn’t see them. Not clearly. But they were tall. Bulked. You wouldn’t be able to get away from them if you tried. Funny how that thought came to you just a few seconds after you did.

Arms wrapped around your middle, and you were suddenly being pressed against one of the men as he held you, your back to him, keeping you tight against his chest. Still no sound leaving you. Just breathing, heavy breaths coming progressively quicker.

“Ah ah, princess,” he tutted in your ear as you stared wide-eyed into the darkness before you.

You fell asleep. That’s what happened. This was a dream. Just a bad dream, and you’d wake up any second now. That was the only explanation. Because this wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“Don’t cry, dove,” he soothed. “Not gonna hurt you, just wanted to introduce you to a pal of mine.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears as they began welling in your eyes. He was speaking as if you knew each other. Like he knew you, intimately. The tone of his voice, the apparent affection. It was decidedly unnerving.

Your name fell off his tongue as if he’d spoken it a million times before, sending a chill through you as a small whimper finally managed to escape you. The flashlight was now shining on the man you were made to face. Dark hair, stubble on his jaw, piercing blue eyes cutting straight through you. You’d consider him pretty if this was a meeting under different circumstances. There was a look of contemplation on his face as he considered you. His gaze flicked from you to the man still holding you, a question clear in his eyes. Question.. or maybe an accusation.

“This is Bucky,” the man introduced. “I think you two are gonna get along real well,” he sounded almost excited. There was a tense moment of silence after he spoke, your eyes seemed glued to Bucky, your lip wobbling as you stood stock still against the stranger behind you. A painful squeeze of his arms around your waist, and you could feel his strength in his movements. You were sure he could break a rib, crush you easily if he wanted to. His hand gave your waist a squeeze as if he was waiting for you to do something.

“You’re normally so polite, princess. Use your manners. Say hello,” he instructed harshly. Normally so polite. Do you know this man? You started racking your brain for suspects, obviously someone you knew, someone you’d met.. Then suddenly your cheek stung, and you were brought back to the situation. He just slapped you? You blinked at Bucky, seeing him again as you refocused on reality.

“Hello,” you uttered weakly, breathily. You barely heard yourself.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you, his mouth slightly agape as if he wanted to say something. He didn’t. His eyes shifted back to his friend instead.

“This is your idea of a Christmas present?”

“I’m telling you, Buck, you’re gonna love her. She’s the sweetest thing, you’ll see,” he insisted, you could practically hear him smiling as he spoke of you like you weren’t even there. “She’s exactly what we’ve been looking for. She’s perfect.”

It was like your brain just couldn’t quite compute what you were hearing. You couldn’t make sense of it. All your thoughts were still trying to guess who this man holding you was. The maintenance man who came over last week for the leak? No, his voice was way deeper and he was stoutly. The guy at the grocery store who stopped you on your way to your car just to tell you how pretty he thought you were? He wasn’t nearly as built as this man was, you could feel his solid chest against your back, his biceps around you were muscular, nothing like the guy from the store. Was it the bookstore? The place you went to get your oil change? Hell, the drive thru worker from last night? You had no idea. You couldn’t place the voice anywhere.

“We’ll see about that,” Bucky groused. “Let her go, Steve, she’s not gonna run. Are you, sweetheart?” he directed at you.

Frozen. You opened your mouth ever so slightly to speak, but no words fell out. You blinked once. Twice. Finally you managed to shake your head, it was almost imperceptible, but he accepted it. Steve’s arms fell from around you as Bucky took a step closer. You didn’t move, didn’t even think to. Not even as the power kicking back on served as a distraction for half a second. You stayed where you were, only wincing again at the lights coming on. You could see him better now. He was dressed in all black, the darkness of his clothing and hair only made his eyes that much more striking.

“You got a pretty face,” he said appreciatively, his lip twitching upward slightly. You didn’t know why you couldn’t look away, your eyes locked on him.

There was a loud bang, you jumped at the crashing sound, turning to watch Steve as he proceeded to trash your living room. As your eyes landed on him, it took you a moment to put it together. Steven. So you did know him, albeit vaguely. Every Wednesday, without fail, you’d somehow arrive at the coffee shop you frequented at the same time he would. He’d always hold the door for you. You never really spoke, but he seemed so nice. Chivalrous.

What was he doing? What was happening? Why?

Your television hit the floor as you gaped at the sight.

“What?” you breathed out, confused.

“Sorry, gotta make it look like there was a struggle. Don’t worry, you won’t miss a thing,” Steve assured you.

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” you started babbling. “What’s- why are you - what do you want? Why are you here? What’s happening, I don’t - I”

Gloved hands were on your arms as you began sputtering, turning you to face Bucky once again. His hand found your cheek, cupping your face gently as he looked you in the eye.

“Nothing you need to worry about, doll. We don’t wanna hurt you. So you’re gonna be good and listen to every word we tell you, won’t you?”

You kept staring at him, bloodshot doe eyes meeting his sharp, icy blue ones. You didn’t respond, but you allowed him to nod your head for you as you maintained eye contact.

“Good girl,” he smirked. “We’re gonna let Steve do what he needs to do and you’re gonna show me where your room is,” he instructed, turning you to face the hallway.

You walked without thinking, just doing as he told you. You didn’t want to make matters worse.

Flipping the light on, you entered the room. Bucky followed close behind you and moved further in even as you stopped right past the door.

“You got any preferences for clothes?” he asked as he looked in your closet. “We have some stuff, but I’m not sure they’ll fit you,” he said, looking you up and down. “Yeah,” he continued, agreeing with himself, “doubt it.”

You were just standing there like an idiot as he rifled through your belongings. You don’t know how much time passed before he got your attention again. He whistled as he held up a piece of lingerie from your drawer. He turned and held it up in front of you.

“I can see it,” he simpered. “You buy this for someone special, doll? Or maybe someone special bought it for you?” he prodded.

You simply shook your head, looking down now trying to avoid his lecherous gaze. He didn’t force you to speak, and you got the feeling he liked the fact you didn’t. Liked that you were being so obedient for him already. He shoved the lingerie into the duffle bag he’d found in your closet which he had already filled with a bunch of random clothes.

“I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to swing back around here,” Steve said casually as he entered the room. “If there’s anything important you want to bring, I’d grab it now, princess,” he told you.

“Where am I going?” you asked cautiously.

“You’re coming with us. We have our place all set up and ready for you. You won’t have to worry about a thing,”

“Time’s ticking, sweetheart. You heard Stevie, you want to bring something specific, go get it.”

You couldn’t think. They were taking you somewhere. They were packing your things. Steven , Steve, said you were perfect, but perfect for what? You then started to fret over leaving something behind. What if you really never came back here, what if all your things were just gone once you left with them. What do you grab, what should you take with you? That was easier to focus on.

You walked slowly over to your bed and grabbed your throw blanket, it was a security blanket, really. You never slept well without it. You watched as Steve walked into your bathroom with his phone out, he was taking pictures of your toiletries and beauty items. He must have felt your eyes on him because he looked back at you, smiling when he met your gaze. “We’ll get you new stuff, you don’t have to worry about bringing any of this.”

“This is going a lot smoother than it normally does,” Bucky said skeptically as he watched you give nearly no reaction.

“I told you, Buck. She’s perfect,” Steve repeated, smirking now as he turned back to continue making note of your things. “That’s what happens when we’re patient and wait for the right one instead of just trying to make random girls work,” he said, seeming to try and point a finger at his partner.

“She’s not putting up even a little bit of a fight,” Bucky mused aloud as he approached you, ignoring Steve and eyeing you darkly. “Why is that, doll?” he asked.

A few more steps and he was directly in front of you, eyes bearing into your own.

“Oh,” he breathed, a wry smile creeping on his lips. “I see it now,” his hands were on your face, holding you as he stared deeply into your bleary eyes, “you’re terrified, aren’t you?”

A broken whimper broke past your lips as you began to tremble slightly. Things were catching up now. The gravity of your situation, the insanity and brazen entitlement of these men in your home, speaking of you like you weren’t able to hear them, talking about taking you with them, how ‘perfect’ you were, the realization of it all, everything compounding, slamming into one another, sending you reeling.

It felt like only fifteen seconds had passed since you watched the balcony door open. How did all of this happen so quickly? It was like you weren’t even there. Just watching everything from an outsider's perspective. Passive. You were so passive.

You just wanted them to leave. You didn’t want to fight them, what point was there in that. You didn’t want to try and run, again, what would be the point? It was clear you weren’t getting away from them and they weren’t planning on leaving you. The only thing you could do was...nothing. Just let them do as they wanted, and try not to make things worse for yourself. Don’t provoke them or put yourself in more danger. They said they didn’t want to hurt you. All you had to do was listen. Just listen, you repeated over and over in your head.

The pressure of Bucky’s hands on your face increased slightly, the material of his gloves rough against your skin as he wiped at the stray tears that had started to fall again. All you could do was nod. He was right. You weren’t doing a thing to stop them because you were scared. You were utterly terrified.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. You’re doing perfect, listening real well, doing what we tell you,” he praised. “You know, Stevie, this just might be the best gift you’ve ever given me,” he called to his partner while he continued staring, his eyes taking in every detail of your face, lingering on your pouty lips.

You were a present. Not a person. At least not to them.

“Let’s see just how obedient you can be,” he said, his voice lower, darker. He was even closer now, you could feel the heat radiating off of him as he was nearly right up against you. Your chest was heaving from your stuttering breaths. Dread setting in the pit of your stomach as his touch left your cheeks and instead drifted down your body.

“Not here, Bucky.” Steve’s harsh words had Bucky’s hands halting in their exploration.

He sucked his teeth before taking a step back and turning to face Steve.

“You can wait another two hours,” Steve griped before turning his attention to you, softening slightly. “That’s all you want to bring, princess?”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

The question left your mouth before you even registered it as a thought. You saw Steve’s jaw clench as he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly at your question. If you had to worry about stoking someone’s ire, it was clearly Steve’s. He worked to calm himself, taking a breath before he responded to you.

“I guess we haven’t really explained what’s happening here, have we?

See, Buck and I, we’ve been looking for a pretty little dove like you for a long time, now. But they were just never right. We gave up for a bit, decided the right girl would come along when she was ready. And then I walked right into you one morning. You remember it, don’t you? You were walking into the coffee shop as I was coming out. I wasn’t really paying attention, it was completely my fault, but you were so sweet.. Caring, understanding. Those are rare traits nowadays, ya know. I’m not sure exactly what it was about you that struck me, but I just knew..

I knew you were the one for us. Kept an eye on you for a while, I wanted to learn more about you, get to know you better. And turns out you’re as sweet as I thought you were. Lonely as us, too. We’re the perfect fit. I could see just how much you needed someone.

The number of times I’ve had to watch you cry all alone from the outside looking in, it was like torture,” he confessed as his hands were suddenly on your face, wiping at your tears. You hadn’t even registered him getting closer, didn’t notice him brushing past Bucky to take the spot he had been in, in front of you. “But you won’t ever have to do that again. You won’t be alone anymore, not with us. It’s a win-win situation, princess. You get to get out of this shithole, leave all the stress behind you, no more responsibilities - aside from taking care of us. But we’ll be taking care of you, too. I know this might seem scary, sudden, but it’s for the best, I promise. For all three of us,” he finished, looking back at Bucky who’s eyes were still set on you.

When Steve finally backed away from you, granting you some space, Bucky was quick to return to your side. He was intent on you, not wanting you to get very far from him, though you were hardly moving.

After Steve trashed the rest of your apartment, Bucky had the thrown together bag of clothes slung on his shoulder, ushering you in front of him to trail behind Steve.

When you’d made it downstairs to the parking lot of your complex, you were led to a sleek, blacked out fully tinted SUV. Steve went to the driver’s side and Bucky opened the back door for you. He helped you in and then climbed in right next to you. You heard Steve scoff as he looked back at him, but he didn’t say anything as he started the car and drove out of the lot.

You stared ahead blankly as the car made its way through and out of town, you were aware of the men talking back and forth, but the conversation didn’t include you - at least not that you heard. You were sure Steve would make it clear if he was expecting an answer from you, the way he had earlier, so you let yourself zone out.

What had you done wrong?

How did you find yourself in this position? It was Christmas. You were alone and vulnerable. How long had Steve been watching you? How long had you been a target and you hadn’t even realized?

Fuck, you were so stupid. Stupid, pathetic, and pitiful.

You didn’t even try to get out of this, just went along with them.

The feeling of a gloved hand settling on your leg brought you back to reality for the moment, looking down just as Bucky squeezed your thigh.

“If I had let me in on your plans, I could’ve gotten some stuff ready for her,” he spoke to Steve as his hand idly toyed with the top of your knee highs.

“What we have already will be fine for now. Besides, I didn’t wanna spoil the surprise.”

There was a beat as Bucky fiddled with your stockings, contemplating as he brushed his gloved fingers over your exposed skin.

“What’s our ETA?” he asked Steve.

“Another hour.”

He nodded, a hint of a smirk on his lips, “More than enough time,” Bucky responds smoothly, pulling you onto his lap just the same as you yipped in surprise.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters.

“Don’t be jealous Stevie, you’ll get your turn, too. She’s my present isn’t she? You got your gift earlier, why can’t I have mine now?”

“She’s ours,” he nearly growled in response.

“Guess that means you still owe me one, then,” he taunted back while his hands found your ass, groping you through the material of your shorts while you stayed as still as possible on his lap, though the lull of the car driving down the interstate didn’t make that an easy task. You eventually grabbed onto his shoulders to keep yourself upright as Steve passed yet another car, the speed threatening to send you into the door if not falling forward on top of Bucky.

Your unintentional wiggling had Bucky groaning and you could feel his erection growing beneath you.

“You make a mess back there, you’re cleaning it,” Steve warned.

All you could focus on, despite your every attempt not to, was the feeling of Bucky’s hands on you as you were forced onto his lap. Grabbing at your ass, running under your shirt, up and down your back, along your waist, gripping your wide hips as he began rocking you atop him. His bulge was rubbing against you with every move and though you tried to fight it, a stirring.. a tingling sensation in your core began to overshadow your fear and disgust.

Your hands were holding tightly onto him, one hand on firm muscle, the other seeming to cling to something more solid. It was an arm, but not one made from flesh and bone.

Bucky’s hands still on your hips suddenly forced you to sit fully down on him. You could feel his strength in the movement, you didn’t consider for a second trying to stop his hands as they slid down into the back of your bottoms, knowing it wouldn’t stop him. He grabbed your ass, his eyes hungry as he stared at you. He swiftly moved his hands up your back and pulled the hem of your top up and off of you in a flash.

You felt exposed and more scared than you’d been earlier, but deep down you had to have known this was coming. Of course it was.

He grabbed your breasts through your thin bra, kneading them in his still gloved hands. He took a second to finally rid himself of them and when you saw the metal of his left hand, you couldn’t help the audible breath you took as he brought it directly to your throat, squeezing enough to have you shiver but not to interfere with your breathing. He smirked as you subtly sank into him further with the show of dominance before he let his hand wander down and around your back to unclasp your bra.

Pulling the bra off of you easily, he pushed you back so you were up against the passenger’s seat as he ogled your chest. His hands wandered from your throat down to the waistband of your shorts, squeezing you, tickling you, playing with your breasts and teasing your nipples before he pulled you closer again, his head falling to your chest as he took one into his mouth. You worked hard to stifle the moan that threatened to escape when he suckled at you. His touch was all consuming and overpowering. The warmth of his mouth on your breasts, the way he held you to him, keeping your hips rocking against his as he groaned against your skin.

You were completely defenseless and had no plans of trying to fight back, no plans at all to try and stop it from happening. What good would it do? You’d let him have his way, do whatever it was he wanted to do and just get it over with.

He pulled off of you just as Steve sped around another car, you fell forward into Bucky, not bothering to right yourself, just letting your body rest against his, your head on his chest now. His hands found the waistband of your bottoms again and he worked to get them down your thick legs, not an easy task in the position he had you in. He barely managed to get them past your ass before he unceremoniously lifted you nearly over his shoulder and over the seat so you were leaning over him as he tugged them the rest of the way down. You were only then vaguely aware of your lack of shoes, briefly you wondered how you didn’t notice that when you first left your apartment. Your thong sliding down your calves, over the knee highs he left on you, had you refocusing on what was currently going on. You heard his zipper and felt him messing with his pants and it was only another second or two before you were pulled right back down onto Bucky’s lap, a mix between a gasp and a moan escaping you and a hiss escaping Bucky as his firm, hard cock pulsed against your bare pussy.

“Sit,” Bucky ordered firmly. You inched down only a bit more, earning a slap to your ass before he spoke again, “Sit. Down,” he growled.

You obeyed without another word, sitting fully on his exposed lap, the zipper of his pants rubbing against your skin as you did.

“Good puppy,” he praised darkly as he grabbed your face, pulling you to him and forcing eye contact. “I don’t like repeating myself, sweetheart. We’ve only just met, so I’ll give you a free pass this time. And I know you won’t do it again, will you, doll?”

“No,” you ekked out breathily, feeling the tears renew in your eyes. You shuddered as he kissed your temple before reaching between you and grabbing his cock, pumping himself once before he had you lift up for him, placing himself at your entrance. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, your arms wrapped around his neck, the only thing keeping you steady as the shame of your arousal consumed you.

“Pussy’s all nice and wet for me, already, huh?” he teased.

You had nowhere else to go so buried your face in his neck, trying desperately to hide from the humiliation. His hands were on your hips and he didn’t give you any warning before he pulled you down, fully seating you on his dick, the air rushed from your lungs at the shock and stretch you were entirely unprepared for. He groaned deeply, a heady, “fuck”, tumbling from his lips as he held you there a second while you whimpered and cried.

“Son of a bitch, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he growled before gripping your hips tighter, surely leaving bruises. You didn’t do anything, couldn’t move if you’d wanted to. You were gripping onto him like your life depended on it and somewhere deep down you were scared it just might.

Ten seconds passed and he just kept you there, sitting pretty on his cock while you cried into his neck. His grip lightened on your hips and he moved one hand to rub your back, clearly his attempt to ease you.

“Relax,” he soothed, “just take it. Take my cock like the good puppy I know you are,” he said, punctuating his sentence by thrusting up into you, making you cry out in response.

He was too thick. It hurt. Sure there was an underlying pleasure that was making its way to the surface the longer he stayed still, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion, but it was still uncomfortable. And being naked and exposed to the chill air in the car only made you more frigid. Even the heat coming off of Bucky wasn’t helping. You were covered in goosebumps and you had tear streaks still running down your face. You were a mess, a whimpering pathetic mess. Nothing more than a frightened little puppy, just like he knew you’d be.

A jolt of pleasure shot through you as his thumb was suddenly on your clit, rubbing in tight circles as you moaned weakly before laxing against him even further, inadvertently taking more of his cock inside you.

“Just like that,” he praised, giving you another few seconds to adjust to him. “Want you to bounce on my cock, you think you can handle that, doll?”

You shook your head, still hiding your face in his neck, not wanting to see the way he was looking at you.

He laughed darkly at your response before reframing your hips with his hands, “That’s alright, puppy. We’ll try again when your little pussy’s used to me. It’ll take some training, but you’ll get it eventually. I don’t have a problem doing it myself right now,”

All you could do was cry as he held your hips down on him, fucking up into you relentlessly, the material of his pants scratching at your delicate skin and his hold on you leaving marks you were sure you’d see in the morning. Your tits were bouncing as you bit your lip, groaning at the sensations shooting through you while Bucky cursed and growled, moans leaving him with every thrust into you.

“Please,” you cried, “please, please, please,”

“Fucking hell, Bucky, don’t break her before we even get her home,” Steve interjected sharply between your cries.

“You can’t feel the way she’s gripping me, she fucking loves it,” he panted, slapping your ass as he continued fucking you.

“Hurts,” you mewled desperately, hoping he’d take pity on you and at the very least slow down.

“Poor pup,” he patronized, keeping his pace as you clung to him.

“Buck,” Steve snarled from the front of the car.

Bucky grunted but soon slowed his movements, and began moving you up and down on his cock by your hips, lifting you and having you sit right back down, the new motion stimulating your clit with every tilt of your hips.

You walls clenched down on him as he slapped your ass again, groaning and growling as he kept you riding him.

His movements were slower, but he had you taking him deeper than before. “Fuck yes,” he moaned lowly, throwing his head back as he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut as he groaned. His grip tightened on your hips as he felt you getting closer.

“You wanna come, sweetheart?” he teased, only getting a whine from you in response. He chuckled again, “You don’t have to deny it, doll. I know it feels good for you, too. I can feel your cunt tryin’ milk my cock. Don’t worry, I’m gonna give you exactly what you need, baby,”

His thumb found your clit again, playing you expertly as you writhed on his cock, unbidden moans falling from you as you felt a coil tightening in your lower belly.

“I’m gonna give it to you, you’re gonna take fuckin all of it. But you’re gonna come on my cock first,”

That coil wound tighter, and tighter, and tighter with each swipe of his thumb in tandem with his thrusts until you couldn’t hold it or fight it any longer and it finally snapped. A white hot heat running through your body as you cried out, holding onto Bucky as you came undone. The feeling of his warm cum hitting your walls as he finished inside of you registered too late, not that you could’ve done anything to stop him anyway. The post orgasmic haze quickly faded with the reminder of reality.

You slumped into him again as you began sobbing. His arms held your naked body against his fully clothed one as he relaxed, leaning back into the seat while a hand rubbed your back and you wore yourself out with the tears that fell.

“No tears, puppy. You did such a good job,” he cooed, only making you cry harder despite how exhausted you were.

He was right, you did a good job for him. Didn’t fight, didn’t try to stop it. Just let him have you, however he wanted. You were a coward. Terrified of being hurt, you let him hurt you. You could hate yourself for your lack of self preservation, but when you really thought about it, this was your self preservation. They could easily hurt you worse. They could kill you if they wanted and you’d never stand a chance. You didn’t want to live like this, but you didn’t want to die, either. You weren’t sure yet, but the latter certainly seemed like the worse option.

Just be good and don’t give them a reason to hurt you. That’s all you had to do. That’s all you could do.

Bucky kept you on him, stuffed full of his cock and cum while he held you against him.

You whimpered when you felt his cock get hard again inside of you but he didn’t move you, just kept you sitting on him - keeping him warm.

“We’re not that far,” Steve spoke, waking you as your eyes threatened to close while you laid against Bucky, thoroughly exhausted.

“Good, she’s about to pass out on me already,”

“‘S’alright, dove,” Steve said to you, “You can sleep til we get home and we’ll bring you inside. You’re gonna need your rest. Our night’s just getting started. We’ve got a lot of celebrating to do now that you’re finally home.”

You couldn’t help it as your tears fell once again, and Bucky rubbed your back.

“You’re gonna love it, doll,” he reassured you. “And if you thought that was good you have no idea how much better it is when it’s all three of us. We’ll have you seeing stars, baby,” he simpered.

“Tomorrow we’ll get everything else sorted, but for tonight, we’ll just get you comfortable. The only thing you’ll be crying for by the end of the night is more.”

[marvelvillian23]

Does anyone know any Basement Wife fics. Multi chapter preferably but any fic will do.