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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 28 days ago

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Besotted 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes

Note: Saturday is fat tiddies day. I'm sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Wow, uh, I'd say that's a lot but it's really not much," you snort at Angelique as she comes out of your bathroom in a tiny string bikini. The leopard print is loud on the tiny triangles barely concealing her tits and a few other parts.

"Not all of us are nuns like you," she retorts and sticks out her tongue.

"I'm not a nun," you roll your eyes.

You're not exactly modest yourself. You like your booty shorts and your cropped tops. And when you're lazy enough, you can be caught walking around in your purple track pants that read sex bomb across the ass. Not exactly classy, but fun.

"Right, right, sure," she scoffs.

"That's a low blow," you hiss.

"Well, it's the truth. What's that now? Twenty-two and you're as pure as the blessed Mother Mary."

"You're a fucking bitch," you sneer.

"I am," she grins and shakes her tits. "But the guys love it."

"You are so dumb," you scowl.

"Try a smile, babe, and maybe someone will want to get it in."

"Wow, did you just come over here to be awful?"

"No, I came over to have fun. Loosen up, have some vodka." She insists.

"Oh, no, I get it, you came to drink my booze," you accuse.

"Look, it's hot enough out that I don't need you breathing down my neck. You invited me over," she snips.

"Regretfully," you tweak your brow.

"Boo, get you're fucking swimsuit on. I'm dying." She crosses her arms and drags her feet across the floor. She grabs her drink; some strawberry kiwi juice and too much vodka.

"Why don't you go start?" You ask. "Better than pouting over your drinking problem."

"Cuntttttt," she growls the last consonant. "Oh, you are the worst."

"Isn't that why you love me?" You blow her a kiss and skip into your bedroom.

You better keep up with her so you can put up with her. Vodka and orange juice should do the trick. A little less sickly sweet. You pull out your bikini. The sides of the bottoms are silver hoops and there's another between the bra cups. It's not exactly a nun's habit, is it? Especially with your tits.

As you come out, you tuck in your left boob, the bigger one. Angelique swirls around her glass before emptying it. It's barely noon.

"You know, you'll probably be drunk before you even get a tan," you chirp.

"Probably," she shrugs and spins. "Come on, I'm bored."

You huff and stomp around her. You pour yourself some vodka then find the carton of orange juice in your fridge. Hm, only enough for one drink. Nice of her to bring mixer for both of you. You dump it in with the vodka and head for the door.

You grab your sunglasses before you step out into the sunlight. It's blazing hot. You slurp back the orange juice laced with alcohol and look around. You don't have much but it's yours. Somewhat. The sunburnt grass and cracked walkway. That's really the dream home.

You put down your drink on the folding table under the mailbox and grab the kiddy pool leaning against the siding. Angelique makes no effort to help. You don't expect her too.

You drag it over onto the lawn and go around to unwind the hose. You unwind it and haul it back with you, tugging out the kinks until it reaches the pool. You'd do this all in the backyard but there's too many ant hills.

You hold the hose and spray it into the plastic pool. As you do, you notice the peculiar dark shape in the next lot; a motorcycle. There's boxes on the other side of the duplex porch. Huh, they must've found a new tenant.

Angelique pops open a bottle of tanning lotion and generously applies it over her arms and chest. She's shining as she smears it over her sandy skin. You'll put on some actual SPF when you get a minute.

You wiggle the hose as you grow bored of filling the pool. Your mind wanders. She always has to say something. Always has to embarrass you. Never lets you forget every time you struck out. Well, you're just a little awkward. Maybe you should stop giving a fuck. Like her.

"Oh, summer feels so good," she struts over with her drink and steps into the pool.

She sits and shivers so her pert tits jiggle. A top like that would do nothing but go missing under your chest. As she reclines and basks in the sunlight, you sigh.

"Gee, Ang, thanks for all your help."

"No problem, girly." She smirks and bends her leg, swaying it as you notice the neighbours across the street gawking. The two pot-bellied men who meet up to gripe on their lawn chair. Ew.

You drop the hose in and go back to the porch. You dip inside for your bottle of sunscreen and come back out. You work at rubbing it in. You'll wait a bit before you get in so it doesn't wash off. It's no Hawaiian coast but that small dented pool is your only relief from the summer heat.

Angelique swishes her second drink in the glass. You don't think she'd help with your back. She's in her own little bubble. As usual.

You hear the snap of the door behind the wooden crisscross that blocks the other half of the porch. You glance over at the shadow that passes by. The unit's been empty almost since you got there. No tenant stayed longer than a month.

The man tramps down his stairs and to the motorcycle leaning on its kickstand. He digs around in the saddle bags then turns. As he does, you catch his eye and give a half-smile. You wave weakly as he keeps going. Oh.

You blink and look at Angelique. She's completely unaware; of your new neighbour or her audience. Two teen boys pass by in a not so subtle detour from their side of the street. You grimace but they're not looking at you.

You turn the bottle in your hands. That man. He's kinda handsome, if he is a bit older. His long hair is a mix of fading brown and grey. His beard is seasoned with silver and his blue eyes shine boldly. And his jawline. That's to die for.

Why had you been so hung up on boys your own age?

The thought make you cringe. Are you serious? Angelique is right. You're too desperate.

“Anj,” you approach the pool.

“If you’re not offering to refill my drink, I don’t want to hear it.” Her eyes are closed behind the dark lenses.

“Why are we friends again?” You mutter.

She just giggles and finishes her drink. Nope. If she wants more, she can get it. You spin away and catch sight of that man again.

Your new neighbour grabs a box from the stack on the front porch. You step up to the property line and smile. He doesn’t notice you as he disappears inside.

There’s not much. The boxes are dusty, marked with the logos of the local storage facility, and his motorcycle is the only other thing there. He must’ve had the stuff dropped off.

He emerges again and you wave, “uh, excuse me? Hi. Neighbour?”

He pauses and his shoulders tense. He faces you slowly. His left arm is covered in ink. The patterns are intricate. His other arm is marked with scars.

You introduce yourself as you sidle up the property line. He stares.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You say. He still doesn’t answer. “What’s your name?”

He looks up then back at you. “Bucky,” he grits out. His voice is sexy.

“Oh, Bucky? That’s cute,” you say. “Say, neighbour, can I ask a favour? I’ll bring you a casserole for your trouble.”

He considers you, “don’t gotta do that.” He crosses his arms. His biceps bulge and so do your eyes. He is built.

“Oh, but I wouldn’t mind, it’s just...” you peek over your shoulder at Angelique as she lazes in the water. The sun beats down on you hotly and sweat beads on your nape. You look at Bucky. “I can’t reach my back.” You show the bottle of sunscreen and smile sheepishly. “Could I get a hand?”

He grumbles and tilts his head. He looks you up and down.

“I really don’t wanna burn. It’s so hot out.” You plead.

Reluctantly he unfolds his arms and comes down the porch steps. He approaches and his chest decompresses visibly as he exhales. He extends his palm to you. You press the bottle into it.

“Thanks!” You let go and shimmy then turn your back to him.

There’s a moment before the lid clicks. He still doesn’t speak. You hear the lotion squirt and brace yourself. He smears it, barely touching you. As the lotion only slides over your skin, he sighs. He shifts and rubs it in more firmly. You push back against his strength, arching your back just slightly.

Your heart races. His hesitance is disappointing. You know you’re not ugly. The reasons you got for your many rejections were that you didn’t want a one-night stand or you insisted on protection. It’s not too much to ask for. You really don’t think it’s your looks.

“All done,” he says.

The lid snaps shut loudly.

You face him, your bikini top stretching dangerous as your chest bounces. His eyes flick down briefly. You nearly laugh. It’s a nice reassurance.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you smile.

He grumbles again and hands you back the bottle. Your cheeks are on fire. He’s so hot. He’s got that definition that makes you all fuzzy. You bet he knows exactly what to do.

“So if you need anything, I’m just next door,” you point to your side of the duplex. “Oh, and I don’t mind noise. At all.”

He nods. You wring your hands around the bottle.

“But you know, if you do, I can be quiet,” you say, realising the double meaning only as your words hang between you.

His brows rise and he dips his chin again. He turns and stalks away. He’s busy. You’re bothering him. You’ll try again when he’s not unpacking.

Your eyes linger on his bike. That might be good place to start. It’s all harmless. You’re being a good neighbour.

You go to your own side of the porch and put the bottle on the top step. You go to the pool and poke Angelique with your toe. “Move over.”

She snorts but gives you room. You get in, arms around the edge, feet up on the other. She giggles.

“What?”

“He’s a bit... ancient,” she flips her sunglasses up and gives you a pointed look.

“Whatever,” you shrug.

“Even so... he’s in good shape,” she sits up slight, flattening her hands against the bottom of the pool. “Hmmm... maybe you might have a chance with the old man.”

“You’re such a bitch,” you growl.

“No, really. Do you think you do?” She asks.

You furrow your brow and search her face, “why?”

“Oh, it could be fun. How about a bet?”

“A bet?”

“Sure, you know, we’re going down to the beach. Got that old house by the shore and there’s only so many spots. You could have one if you can reel him in. No virgins on vacation,” she taunts.

“Fuck, I hate you,” you sneer.

“You love me and I know for a fact, you don’t have a chance of seeing the beach if you don’t come so...”

You take a breath and peer over as your neighbour swings the door open once more. He’s entirely undistracted as he lifts another box. Your stomach swims with nerves. You can flirt; it’s that next thing you never got the hang over. But so far, he’s not even flirting.

“Guaranteed?” You arch a brow in her direction.

“Promise. It’ll give you something to talk about.” She cranes to watch, “you better hope his dick still works.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #besotted #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #au #captain america #winter soldier #avengers

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shybluebirdninja · 2 months ago

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Ownership

Summary: You agreed to one night, but Bucky has other plans, making it clear he’s going to keep you—and he wants you carrying his baby.

Pairings : Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Note : non-consensual behavior, forced pregnancy

The air in the room is heavy, thick with unspoken tension. Bucky stands in the doorway, his massive frame dominating the space, eyes dark and predatory. He’s watching you, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. It’s unsettling how calm he is, like he’s got all the time in the world. Like he knows exactly how this is going to play out.

“Why you standin’ over there like you got a choice, doll?” His voice is low, gravelly, and it hits you straight in the chest. “C’mere.”

You hesitate, trying to remember the rules you both set. One night. That’s it. But the look in his eyes says different. There’s no way you’re walking out of here without something much heavier hanging over you—without him making sure his mark on you is permanent.

“I said, come here,” Bucky’s tone darkens, a rough edge creeping in, and your body reacts before your brain does, your feet moving toward him. His metal arm reaches out, pulling you flush against his chest, and fuck, the heat coming off him makes your pulse race.

“I’m not letting you go, y’know that, right?” His breath is hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “This ain’t some casual thing. You’re mine. And I’m gonna make sure you know it.”

His hand slides down your back, rough fingertips brushing against the bare skin under your shirt, making you shiver. He smirks when he feels it, gripping your waist harder, like he owns every inch of you. In his mind, he does.

“Bucky,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Shh,” he growls, his lips brushing against your neck. “I’m gonna take my time with you. Make sure it sticks this time. You’re not walkin’ outta here without somethin’ of mine.”

You can feel the power in his body as he presses against you, the steel in his grip, and the raw desire pouring off him in waves. You try to push back, but his grip tightens, his metal hand circling around your throat—enough to hurt, enough to remind you who’s in charge.

“You agreed to one night,” he whispers, lips dragging over your skin, teasing. “But I’m not a man of half-measures, sweetheart. You’re not leaving here until I’ve put a baby in you. Until I know I’ve claimed you for good.”

Your heart pounds, his words sinking deep into your bones.

“You... you don’t have to—” you start, but he cuts you off with a dark chuckle.

“Don’t gotta do a damn thing. But I want to.” His lips curl into a smirk, and he lifts you off the ground like you weigh nothing, carrying you to the bed. The room spins for a second, and then you’re beneath him, pinned by his weight, his hands already working to pull your clothes off, rough and demanding.

His lips crash into yours, claiming, devouring, and you can’t help but moan into the kiss as his tongue pushes past your lips. His hands grip the waistband of your jeans, yanking them down without a care, shredding any barriers between you.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growls, running his hands over your now-bare thighs, squeezing, as if memorizing the shape of you. “Gonna ruin you, doll. Gonna make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

You’re panting, barely able to think straight as his mouth trails down your body, his breath hot against your skin. His metal arm holds you in place, cold against the burning heat coursing through you, while his other hand grips your thighs, spreading them apart like it’s his goddamn right.

“You like this, don’t you?” he teases, voice dripping with that rough, dominant tone. “You like the way I fuckin’ own you.”

His fingers tease you for only a second before he thrusts them inside, rough and unrelenting, stretching you out in a way that makes you arch your back, a cry ripping from your throat.

“Bucky!”

“That’s right, baby,” he smirks, his fingers working faster, deeper, curling inside you just to hear you scream again. “You’re fuckin’ mine.”

He pulls his fingers out and replaces them with himself, pushing into you with a rough, demanding thrust that has you seeing stars. Every muscle in his body is taut, coiled with tension, and you can feel how fucking hungry he is for you. The pace is slow at first, teasing, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he loses control.

“You think I’m gonna let you go after this?” he growls, his hips snapping against yours, hard and rough. “Nah, baby. You’re stuck with me. Gonna fill you up until you’re pregnant. You’re gonna carry my kid, and I’m gonna make sure of it.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat crashing through you, and you can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips, the way your body responds to his every move. He’s relentless, his pace brutal, pounding into you like it’s the only thing that matters, and in this moment, it is.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice raw with desire. “So tight. You’re gonna take every fuckin’ inch of me, and you’re gonna thank me when I’m done.”

You can barely breathe, barely think as he keeps thrusting into you, harder, deeper, making sure you feel every inch of him. He leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna make you mine in every fuckin’ way. You’re gonna carry my kid, and you’re gonna love every second of it.”

You can feel yourself unraveling beneath him, your body tightening around him as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic, desperate. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock. Let me feel you fall apart.”

You shatter beneath him, your body convulsing as pleasure crashes over you like a wave, and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. He just keeps fucking you, riding you through your orgasm, determined to make this last.

When he finally lets go, he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you, and you can feel the hot rush of his release as he fills you.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice rough and breathless. “Now you’re mine. And you’re not going anywhere.”

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multiverse-sparkles · 4 months ago

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Belonging — S. Rogers

summary: steve had left you for a time that had forgotten him, with only a letter as an explanation. you were given another him, in another universe.

pairings: steve rogers x reader

warnings: angst, very lazy summary, read for a sexy steve! alternate earth, stark reader, eventual soft!dark themes.

“please state your name and where you came from,” the agent utters, tone void of any humane emotion as he gestures to the camera silently mocking you, as it blinked rapidly.

still rubbing your sore wrist, you kept your lips pressed together hoping to make this as unpleasant as you could. you'd been rudely transported into this warped timeline as you were being tossed into the air by a combat robot you used for training; you doubted the pile of metal and wires had the capability nor the powers to hurl you in another dimension, but you were still tossed, rather roughly on your ass.

yet before you even had the chance to process anything, or launch a defensive attack; several high powered guns were pointed at your person, and you were knocked out cold and brought to this interrogating facility.

SHIELD, you bitterly came to the conclusion. you were familiar with their protocols, their interrogation tactics, and their structure of their facility. you'd trained and worked several missions and recon assignments with some of the agents you've seen decorating their halls; even being ushered by colleagues you've shared stale coffee with, but they didn't know you here.

and you've simply reached the desired conclusion; this was an unfamiliar world.

though you have been leading a somewhat destructive life after losing nearly everything after the battle with the mad titan, there was still some self preservation left in you, and you didn't want to totally be obliterated in this foreign world with no body for pepper to mourn with.

what did taylor swift say? play stupid games, win stupid prices.

until you could communicate with friday, or be sure that you're totally safe here, you were going to be the most silent and unhlepful captive these walls have ever seen.

“state your name and where you came from.” the agent bellows firmly.

“what year is it?” you tilt your head, he purses his lips in thought, looking at you as if you're something foreign; then uttering the year.

“huh. so thanos was three years ago?” you breathe, “you guys beat him too?”

the agent looked at you with a suddenly, surprised expression.

“take my blood; run your tests. when you get the result, bring me your highest ranking officer.” you demand.

"tony has a daughter." sam balks in disbelief, his mouth gaping in scandal at the mere prospect of tony's many exploits coming into fruiton. "an adult daughter."

"old news, small head big body." bucky snorts, putting the weights down. sam bristles, a snarky reply tethering on his tongue, yet steve interrupts.

"it's the worst kept secret around the compound." steve remarks amusedly, somehow finding the fact that covert special agents become loose lipped when it came to gossip. "the lesser known fact however, is where she came from." he grabs his flask, and sat upright from the bench, and rehydrated.

the other savory details of your appearance had been limited to a few people; mostly the avengers and the key personnel involved. they hadn't yet realized the reason as to why you'd be in another dimension entirely unprompted. and while they knew time travel was possible, being in an alternate universe was a topic they have yet to dabble in.

so while they try to identify which earth you were originally from, it was better to keep very few people about your origins.

"she just appeared." bucky nods conspiratorially, "an alien, basically."

"basically fit right in." steve shrugs, making light of how many otherwordly being they've encountered over the years. "tony adores her, though." he adds.

"she has everyone eating off her palm, let's be fucking honest." bucky chortles, "kind. endearing. smart. witty—"

"breathtaking actually." sam adds, recalling when he passed by you in the hallways.

"breathtaking." bucky agrees, smirking. "she's every bit of a stark. so much so, she hates steve's guts."

steve huffs, "hate is a strong word."

"you're right. she's incredibly polite, it's almost rude." bucky grins, making no effort to hide the fact that he enjoyed your interactions with steve.

you wouldn't be rude— no, you were the furthest thing from it. you would use honorifics even, call him captain or simply mr. rogers. your hostility with steve would be pronnounced every way that mattered, and bucky could tell it was starting to make steve flustered.

being captain america came with both adoration and hostility— the public either loved him or hated him, and he was used to such instances. steve couldn't please everyone afterall.

the way you looked at him though; it was more than animosity. it felt almost like.. like a scorned lover.

"oh fuck. i knew i shouldn't have been in that mission." sam chortles, while steve grumbles in annoyance. "went out of town once and i miss all these juice." he giggles, and bucky mirrors his grin. perhaps the only time they could maintain a conversation without hurling insults, and jabs at eachother; at steve's expense.

bucky gestures, "wanna know the worst part?" sam nods vigorously, "he's hot for her."

steve abruptly drops the weights he'd been using, making sam and bucky pause at the abrupt noise.

"are the both of you in elementary?" he chides, trying to keep his tone even.

"steve and y/n sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N—"

"fuck off!"

your nerves settled as soon as the caffeine hits your tongue. your shoulders slumped, tension leaving you altogether, and you sighed a silent prayer.

you were plenty similar to tony when it came down to it; your pet projects had been less important where you came from, but so long as your objective was necessary, you won't sleep unless you achieve it.

now, going home was your primary goal... one you'd worked together with tony. or a moniker of him.

it felt strange to address him that way.

you knew their tony stark was different— their avengers stayed intact for one. but to see him again, his excellent goatie and hear his sharp wit, you'd tackled him in a frantic hug and sobbed so hard, he must have thought you to be lunatic.

tony was briefly informed of your identity, and while it wasn't an instantaneous paternal spark, he had felt for you. he had let you cry all you wanted. he consoled you, if a bit awkwardly. unpracticed, just like he had been when you wound up in his care at thirteen leaving him with primary custody.

just like then, he grew to become fascinated with you. you shared his love for engineering and technology. like the first time, he had spent every free moment he had with you; talking to you, getting you situated, making sure you were well taken care of... it felt like deja vu. and you would, eventually, lose him again.

you didn't exist here, just like he didn't exist back in your earth.

"careful."

"sorry!" your exclamation is abrupt as the paper cup crumbles in your hand, body jerking quickly as you avoid spilling coffee to the stranger. you had been so absentminded, you ran into a person's chest— cool baby blues, and the heroic perfect blonde hair paired with the most annoyingly perfect set of teeth welcomed you as you lifted your gaze.

steve rogers held you by your elbow, keeping you from tripping over yourself, "you alright?"

you felt as if something was lodged in your throat, being this close with him. he smelt unfairly delectable, despite being drenched in sweat.

this cannot be happening.

you squirmed out of his hold, and he politely took back his hand, keeping them to himself. just like you were, he was caught off guard. both by your reaction and his.

steve... steve was another complication. you couldn't get too close to him— there were many things left unsaid between the two of you, and you were terrified you would not be able to treat him fairly.

you were still angry with the choice he made.

when steve never returned from returning the stones; you'd assumed the worst. you would have exhausted every means to bring him back, if not for the letter bucky had given you.

he told you he couldn't stay; he told you he wanted to reclaim everything he's lost. he left you for a time long forgotten, and you never saw him again.

you liked to think you would understand him, if only he had told you. you liked to think you'd understand why he made the choice. it was what he wanted for himself.

yet you wonder, not unselfishly, if steve had loved you the way he had promised he did; if steve had known it would be possible to go back, will he still choose you? had he merely settled... were you just there; available, attached, and so starry eyed, you stoked his ego enough for him to forget momentarily.

for the past few months, all you did was agonize over the very fact; had every moment you spent with him been tainted with pretense and lies?

you entertained the very real prospect that he did not love you— maybe then the ache in your chest would not be replaced with anger.

because if he had loved you, the way he uttered in your skin; in a soft whisper, like a sigh of breath first thing in the morning. in a giddy exclamation, with his lips pressing upon yours. or in a dazed, soft coo as he bats away the exhaustion of the day. in a certain, so sure of a declaration, as he wraps you in a warm embrace... why was it not enough?

if he had loved you so assuredly and devotedly, he did not love you enough to choose you.

seeing another version of steve— adoring, with the same gentle cheer about him, so dreamy and bright, you stumbled.

he was steve... and yet he stayed. he had the same choice, yet he never took it. he didn't have someone like you though; so maybe, you were the offending factor in your version of steve. that made you ache.

"i apologize, captain." you purse your lips.

"nothin' to be sorry for," his tone was with a gentle lilt, "you uh.. liking the caffeine choices so far?" steve inwardly cringes at his attempt for conversation. he hadn't known how to talk to you, or how to make conversation with you— especially when you get that dazed look in your eyes, immedieately followed by a guarded expression as if afraid he would probe into your thoughts.

"it's excellent." you affirm, avoiding his gaze as if scalded. you hid your expression with your cup, and finally, steve reluctantly pries his gaze away from you.

steve walked towards the pantry, if to have something to do with himself, "yeah? half the team lives on the stuff, it's pretty good chunk of the budget." he pulls out a cup from the shelf, "once things get busy, it's not strange to find splatters of blood and torn pieces of clothing lying about. it gets primitive."

you fought off a smile. it was an appropriate retelling of how the team functioned— they were like siblings in a way. they have no problem taking a bullet for eachother, but once the coffee pot runs dry, they're throwing hands. the thought of your closest friends made you relax.

"that sounded wrong, did it?" steve winces, turning around with his own brew in hand. you looked at him with some amusement, hiding half your face in your cup, "no harm in a team bonding activity."

pink tinged his cheeks, "i didn't mean it like that." he flusters easily. the captain reminded you why you were fond of toying with steve. "i don't- i'm not.. i— i hope you don't think i'm inappropriate." his broad shoulders sag, looking at you like a kicked puppy, worried as can be of offending you.

steve was watchful of his language, especially when it came to dames; something about his upbringing being wired into his very psyche.

"i'm a stark, captain. would take a lot more to faze me." your eyes twinkled with mischief, and steve softens, almost awes at the genuine emotion he sees in you.

steve seemed to be the only one you were guarded against, and he'd been inappropriately envious of his teammates. they all talked about you in an excited flurry of retelling, like bucky had said, you had everyone eating off your palm. and he always wondered if he'd get to know you the same.

you caught his expression.. and it was as if a cold bucket of water drenched you.

"uh, i guess.. i have something to do." you gripped your cup, and steve stood straighter, opening his mouth to say something. anything. yet his limbs were faster than his... words. you look at him again, with little to no emotion in your face as he ponders how to make sense of his sneaking intuition as he grips your arm.

"did i do something to you?" steve asks, unable to stop himself.

"you haven't." you murmur, "i'm trying to keep it that way. i know from experience how that worked."

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers female reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #soft dark steve rogers #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x y/n #avengers fanfiction #avengers

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p3sephone · 5 months ago

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Taking you back. (Dark! Stucky x reader)

Summary: this time you managed to escape for good from the two soldiers, but what if they find you back?

Warnings: implied past-abuse and bruises, reader is genuinely terrified, lots of begging, forced relationship, forced kissing, anxiety, traumatized reader. This is a dark story and has dark themes, minors are NOT ALLOWED, only +18. If you don't like this, don't read please. These character do not belong to me. Requests are open, feel free to ask or to interact with this post if you enjoy! <3

You didn't think you'd ever get to this point, you dreamed of it almost a long time ago, and yet there you were. You were quietly shopping, the keys to your apartment in your bag, no Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes dictating rules, telling you what to do, how to dress or how to talk. No more 50s style life, not since you managed to escape. After so many years spent in that country house you really didn't think you'd be able to do it, to stand up and leave. There was no misunderstanding, you were still terrified that they might find you but it was as if you were lighter now. You would never have used the word serene or calm to describe yourself, but maybe lucid. Yes, lucid, that was what you were. You realized that you were finally taking back control of your life, your body. They had taken you and shaped you to their liking. They promised to be everything you would ever need, that they loved you so much that what they did to you during punishments actually hurt them more. Yet, at the end of the day, you were still the one with the bruises and hematomas on your body. You sighed heavily, pushing those images out of your head and taking a pack of sugar from the shelf in front of you. You had to move and go home. Months had passed, you truly believed that they would have caught you in hours. Then, the hours passed and you remained hidden, while the realization of what you had done continued to hit you. You did not deny that there was a part of you that thought of going back, but an even stronger one told you that this time was not like the others. The other times, the first ones in which you had tried to escape, had been terrible for you and your escape had lasted 30 minutes or so. Maybe. This one, however, much more, was going so well: first hours, then days, then weeks… and finally months, five to be exact.

A small smile formed on your face. You were aware that they would come back for you, but this time you had an advantage, right? They were undoubtedly stronger and faster than you, they had more means and they were certainly much more appreciated by people than a complete stranger like you. You left the supermarket, kindly greeting the clerk and finally walking towards your apartment. It had been 10 minutes, no more, no less. You shivered from the cold, holding your coat tighter, it had started to snow. Then, in the middle of the cars and some random passers-by who like you were going home, you heard it. It was light, but you weren't crazy: you had heard a rustling, from behind. You turned around, but there was not a living soul. You started walking again at a fast pace, holding the shopping bag tightly and with your heart starting to beat in your throat.

It couldn't have come the time, right? Five months, still too few. No, after this freedom you couldn't go back with them. Because you weren't sure what they would do to you this time, you only had the guarantee that you would not like any of it. Bucky was the one you worried about the most: Steve was a golden boy in every way, yes he was cruel in punishments and discipline, but you believed him much more than Bucky when he said it hurt him to hurt you. Bucky, on the other hand, was much more calculating in punishments and even in everyday life: he adored you, he worshipped you almost as if you were his salvation from all the crap of his past, and yet sometimes he looked at you in such a cold and dark way that you rarely believed you had in front of you not Bucky, but the winter soldier. You were sure that this time not even Steve would have saved you from any risky or too cruel thought on Bucky's part, and you couldn't allow that.

"Excuse me, can you help me..?" you stopped in your tracks, looking at the man behind you. He had emerged from one of the alleys that overlooked the desolate main street, where you were walking. You only had two more minutes left, and it was done. Two miserable minutes for more time of freedom. You swallowed nervously, looking him up and down: he was holding his arm as if it hurt, but it was a man with a hood and a covered face and he was twice your size. With a small voice you only had the courage to apologize and continue on your way, only to turn back after a few seconds at the sound of a crack. It was like it was familiar. The man decided to look up, now keeping both arms relaxed at his sides. His posture seemed to become strangely familiar, then his face. Steve.

You inhaled sharply as tears formed in your eyes. Five months, had you only lasted that long? No no no, you couldn't go back. So you did what you knew could work, at least on him, before Bucky came along: beg. It rarely worked but at the moment you didn't have much of a chance.

Fight it? No. Talk to him? It's Steve, he knew better than his beautiful girlfriend who just has to listen and take care of him. But he had a weakness and that was you: your tears, your sadness, Steve had never liked it.

"Steve, you have to understand.. I had to.. " you whispered in a thin voice, dropping the grocery bag on the floor. He looked at you coldly, folding his arms.

"No, you didn't have to, but you did. Five months away from you, without knowing where you were, maybe you were in danger. Maybe our missions had reached us straight home taking away the most important person for us…" he started to take steps towards you, every word he said was emphasized with anger. "But no, it was nothing like that. It was just you, who decided to leave us behind and go away. What were you looking for? No, who were you looking for?"

His ideas were more wrong than the other, you were just looking for yourself, after they had cancelled it for so long. You started to cry and sob in fear while Steve had now arrived in front of you and completely towered over you with his height. You had to lift your head to look him in the eyes and pray for a shred of mercy.

"I ran away because you hurt me! Hurt so much!" you brought your hands to your chest trying to calm your heartbeat, but that didn't make Steve falter even a little.

"We hurt you because you didn't learn and you despised us. We loved you, we gave you everything, and you left us. Do you have any idea how destroyed Bucky was in these months without you? We both were, but you were fine in the new apartment, doing all these things without us, right?" Steve provoked you with a venomous tone, and if only looks could kill you would have already been on the ground. And yet, you ended up on the ground anyway out of desperation. The mere mention of Bucky made you tremble with terror.

"I'm sorry, please- plea-" your breath caught in your throat and the words wouldn't come out of your mouth. You were now on your knees in the cold and the tears were falling non-stop, the broken sobs non-stop giving you no chance to rest your throat. You literally couldn't speak: Steve was your chance for dialogue, and yet those two men had traumatized you so much that they had destroyed even your ability to speak. Apologize? What did you have to apologize for? They were the ones who had ruined your life, you only wanted to help them, be a supportive friend, someone to pass by for them. Instead, they had decided that you were that ideal girl they had lost for too long now, and that you couldn't go away. Steve knelt in front of you, taking you by the arms and slowly bringing you into his, to then cage you with his body.

"Shh, it's okay baby, it'll all work out. I know it's sad, it won't happen again, right?" Steve's voice sounded really sweet and sappy, and you only had the strength to nod briefly. He placed his fingers on your chin forcing you, despite your resistance, to look into his eyes: you saw only a disappointing and obsessive love. He then moved closer and kissed you, holding your face to him, continuing to kiss you until he was satisfied. He missed you too much, but you hadn't seen that, not yet.

"I can't wait to take you home… for tonight though, we'll stay at your apartment. Come on love, Bucky is waiting for us there."

#dark marvel #dark avengers #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark winter soldier #dark steve rogers x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark stucky x reader #dark stucky #dark! stucky #dark! steve rogers #dark steve x reader x bucky

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tldrthor · 7 months ago

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The Princess (and the chaos she brings with her) - steve rogers x fem!reader (1/?)

Summary: when Thor asked the avengers to guard a dear friend of his, they didn't think twice before saying yes. What they didn't know was that said friend is the princess of one of the nine realms, and a lost love of one Captain Rogers.

Part 1 // I thought you were dead // word count: 3.5k

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"(y/n), you have to eject, right now!" Steve screamed over the torrents of wind whistling through the ship. Schmidt was dead, gone. So was the tesseract. But it wasn't over yet. "I have to put her in the water!"

The girl behind him widened her eyes, battling against the elements to reach him. "There's no world in which I let you do that, Captain!"

"I'm not asking for permission!"

"Well then, I guess we go down together!" She painstakingly made her way to him, every step a feat of strength. Her previously neatly pinned curls no longer even resembled what they once were as her hair whipped around her face.

As Steve turned to face her, she somehow still looked angelic. He felt that right now, she was more heavenly than ever. He couldn't let her die with him.

"Buckle in." He commanded, as they began their quick descent. He looked at her, the first woman who had ever made him feel seen, the only person he had ever met who was as crazy as he was.

As the ice flew closer, he turned and placed a hand tenderly on her face. Tears welled in his eyes as his mind wandered to the future they could've had. God, they could have been amazing.

"I'm sorry, (y/n)." He whispered. She could only just hear it, even though they were right next to each other.

He pulled the yellow ejection lever on the seat she had just buckled herself into, watching as her eyes widened. "No! Steve, no!" She lifted her hands to stop him, to jam the lever, anything to stay with him. She wasn't quick enough.

Steve closed his eyes as her seat was ejected, hearing her scream his name. There was no world where he allowed her to go down with him, and he trusted that wherever she ended up, Stark and Peggy would find her. He hoped they would be able to find him, too.

He hadn't prayed in a long time, but as he went down, he bargained with God for her safety.

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"It is my honour to introduce the new and improved Captain America and the Howling Commandos exhibit, in honour of the 100th birthday of Captain Steven Grant Rogers." The crowd clapped as the senator stepped off the podium, motioning for Steve to take the mic. Bucky and Sam laughed at how uncomfortable the Captain was as he stood thanking everyone for an exhibit he never wanted. All part of the job, he supposed.

After the handshakes, and the photo ops, and the autographs and the meet and greets, the boys finally got relative peace to wander around the new exhibition.

"I can't believe you used to wear these stupid suits." Sam laughed, standing in front of the main exhibit. Bucky sighed, budging Sam's shoulder. "Says the asshole who wears a bird suit to fight." He retorts.

Steve laughed at his friends antics, but walked away when he noticed an addition to the exhibit he hadn't seen before. He stared, wide eyed at the name in front of him.

(Y/N): THE MISSING HERO?

Steve found himself drinking in every inch of the gorgeous photo underneath the text, her bright smile and barely visible freckles. The lighting highlighted the different hues in her immaculately pinned hair. She looked just like an angel, as she always did in real life.

Steve looked down, forlorn eyes investigating very few artefacts in the glass exhibit. Her folded uniform, found in her room after the plane went down. The blush lipstick you wore every day. Finally, an object that Steve didn't recognise. A golden ring, encrusted in unidentified jewels and a family crest no one knew. He frowned.

He had known her only a short few months, but he regretted never asking about her family. And now, it would haunt him that he never did until his last breath.

"They never found her, huh?" Bucky placed his covered hand on Steve's shoulder, a sadness tinged in his voice. He had only met (y/n) briefly, but he knew even then that Steve's heart rested in the palm of that woman's hand.

He had asked about her, once, but the look on Steve's face when her name was mentioned told him everything he needed to know.

"No. Howard searched for years, found nothing. Turned out that she had lied on her intake forms for the SSR, too. We don't even know if (y/n) was really her name." He took a beat. "We have no idea if she survived or not."

Steve didn't have to make the subtext clear, Bucky knew he worried that he had killed her by ejecting her from that plane. Bucky also knew there was no sense in trying to tell him she would have died either way, that the ice would've killed her.

"You okay?" Bucky asked, after another few moments of silence.

Steve nodded, looking at the photo. "I'm glad she's remembered. I just wish I didn't have so many unanswered questions."

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"So," Tony started. "Thor is arriving with the guest of honour later today, who we have agreed to protect here for the meantime. We don't have a lot of background for this one. The dark elves are the ones we're protecting her against, but Thor said threat could come from many areas. Do we have any questions?"

The team looked nothing short of bored. Well, most of them. Cap always had the good grace to sit up and look interested. Scott was straight up asleep.

"Is she important? How long will she be staying with us?" Steve asked.

"No idea, and uh, no idea. Anything else?"

"Is she single?" Sam asked, earning a laugh from some of the others. Steve shook his head disapprovingly, but smiled at his friend's levity.

As Steve stood up to go back to training, FRIDAY sounded around the room. "Excuse me everyone, my satellites have detected a bifrost signal heading for the compound imminently."

"Speak of the devil!" Tony clapped his hands as everyone headed out to the bifrost landing site (something that had been instituted after Tony's lawn got scorched one too many times).

Bucky smacked Scott upside the head to wake him up with a jolt. "Oh, where are you guys going?" He called behind them, jogging to catch up. Steve waited behind from him, laughing at his groggy friend.

A bright light connected with the grass just beside the landing site. Tony's hands covered his eyes as he mouthed are you fucking kidding me. When the light cleared, Thor stood tall in his usual armour.

"My friends!" His voice boomed, "I present to you, my fellow avengers, the honourable princess of Alfheim, jewel of the Alfar and ambassador to Asgard." Thor's voice boomed through the halls of the compound. "This is my friend, (y/n)."

Beside Thor stood a girl. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with a heavenly stature. She looked like she could have been carved from marble by the hands of God himself.

A light Asgardian pink dress was covered by a golden chest-plate which fit her body like it had been moulded just for her. It was covered in intricate etchings of suns and stars, which caught the light and shone brilliantly. She wore golden jewellery, which was nothing like the avengers had ever seen. Golden ear cuffs covered her pointed ears, with her long hair pulled into an up-do, emphasising the golden, bejewelled tiara on her head.

"Princess?" Sam squeaked. Wanda smacked him, with a look that screamed don't embarrass us.

Tony tilted his head in confusion at the guest, who he could almost swear he recognised from somewhere. "Thor, you did not inform us that we were looking after the ruler of a planet. We would have been more prepared."

"I am not ruler yet, Mr. Stark." The girl cast her eyes up at Tony, as she smiled sweetly. Her voice was honey smooth, and anyone who heard it felt themselves being charmed by it. "I have heard much about you all from Thor."

"Should we bow?" Bruce whispered to Tony, who shrugged his shoulders. Thankfully, (y/n) took the lead and shook each of their hands.

She looked around at each of the gathered avengers. Thor made his introductions to the rest of the group. "Where are the others?" Thor enquired.

"Here!" Steve smiled at the site of his old friend, his view of the princess obscured by the large man. Bucky and Scott tagged behind him, also happily greeting Thor.

"Captain, it is very good to see you. Please, let me introduce you to the Princess (y/n)." Thor stepped aside to introduce them, but his eyebrows knitted together in confusion when neither of them moved, almost frozen in place.

"Uh... hi." Scott side-stepped the Captain and caught the eye of their guest. "My name's Scott Lang."

The girl tore her eyes away from the captain, unsure really on what to do. But her training kicked in, knowing that being rude was one of the worst sins a princess could commit. "Hello, Mr. Lang. I am (y/n)."

"Holy shit." Bucky breathed out.

The rest of the avengers watched the rather silent exchange with confusion. It was very unlike Steve to get so tongue-tied, and he would never be so rude as to not introduce himself.

"Captain Rogers..." The girl spoke first, confusing them further. "I believed you dead." Tears had welled in her eyes, intriguing the observing crowd even more.

"I thought you were dead." He breathed. "What... what is going on?"

Bucky interjected. "Um, hi. I'm Bucky, we met briefly in '45."

She smiled softly at him, but her eyes betrayed her confusion. "Sergeant Barnes, of course! Didn't you... also die?"

"Yeah, we've all got a lot of explaining to do." Bucky laughed as the absurdity of the situation caught up to him.

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Thor's eyes darted between his friend and the captain. When Thor asked the avengers to guard her from the war on Alfheim, he knew some hijinks would ensue. This is not what he expected. He knew you had spent some time on Midgard before and when you returned you were emotionally distraught. He had simply figured the war you had fought with the Midgardians had taken it's toll.

He eyed both the Captain and you, suspiciously. You were his dear friend, but you had never talked to him about any mortal love.

"So, Princess. You've been here before." Tony enquired.

The Princess licked her lips nervously, glancing at Steve, who had barely moved a muscle, his eyebrows furrowed. "Yes, Mr. Stark. I spent some time here during the second world war. I left Midgard when Johann Schmidt was defeated, and haven't returned since."

"Tell us about your world, Princess. I've never heard of it before." Natasha, the red-head in the corner, asked the guest.

"You have heard of it before." The princess smiled, explaining. "I believe we are now known as a fantasy character here - you call us elves." She pointed to her pointed ears as each avenger clung to her words.

Thor smiled at his Midgardian friends' curiosity.

"The Alfar still live amongst you, they are simply unseen. I believe you may know Tolkien?" At the mention of the author's name, everyone's ears pricked. "He was one of my father's greatest friends and many of his book settings were inspired by Alfheim."

"What!" Scott exclaimed. "That's insane."

"Really, Ant Man?" Bucky responded, pointing out that they were all ridiculous, when you thought about it. The world was crazy now.

The princess chuckled, and rose from her seat at the conference table. "Thank you very much for your hospitality, Avengers. I would quite like to rest in my chambers, if you would be so gracious to allow me."

"Um, yeah... consider yourself allowed." Tony stumbled over his words. Very unusual for him, and it did not go unnoticed by the others. "Dinner is at seven."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. Captain Rogers," She addressed the Captain, who looked up quickly. His face was pale, and he nervously twiddled his thumbs. "Would you be so kind as to show me my rooms?"

He popped up, almost comedically fast. "Yes. Yeah, sure. Um, this way." He walked out quickly, darting his eyes back to make sure the princess was following him.

She followed, gracefully. Her skirts fanned out behind her as she walked. The avengers in the room could scarcely take their eyes off her as she faded from sight.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the room devolved into chaos. People shouting theories and questions left, right and centre. Mostly, everyone was just bewildered. Bucky and Thor discussed how they had both known the couple separately, and whether each had talked about the other.

Natasha watched as Tony sat quietly on his tablet for a few seconds, searching for something she could only assume was relevant to the discussion at hand.

"Bucky, what's the deal there?" Clint asked.

He was interrupted by Tony. "Aha!" Stark called, silencing the room. "I knew I recognised her from somewhere."

He projected a photograph to the wall, and the avengers gasped.

The photograph consisted of Steve and Bucky front and centre. Bucky had his left arm wrapped lazily around Tony's dad, Howard. And Steve was looking directly at the girl next to him, holding her to him by the waist. It was the princess. The gaze he looked at her with... it was like nothing they had ever seen from him.

"They didn't just know each other, they were in love." Bucky replied to Clint's question, a hint of sadness underneath his words.

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(Y/n) followed Steve along the large corridors of the compound, her smaller legs working double time to match his long strides. They walked in silence, for the most part. It wasn't the comfortable kind.

"Captain." She spoke first, again. As she called for him, he stopped walking abruptly, turning slowly. He met her gaze and then cast his eye down.

"(y/n)... I mean, um, Princess." He responded.

"(y/n) is sufficient." She whispered, almost guiltily. "I can't believe you're alive..."

"I can't believe you're alive," He retorted. "I searched for you, when I woke up. They couldn't find any records of you other than your enlistment form, and they found you had lied. People think you're just a ghost story..."

He took a breath. "I can't believe you're here and... an alien princess?"

"I know it's hard to believe, I hope you understand why I couldn't tell you back then." She laughed. "When I found that you and Sergeant Barnes were dead, I couldn't face being here anymore... I returned to Alfheim."

As she thought back on it, a tear sprung to her eye. On seeing her reaction, Steve couldn't help himself but place a friendly hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles. She briefly froze at the contact, but quickly, she moved her own hand down his arm until she was holding onto his hand with both of hers.

So much went unsaid, but the contact confirmed what they had both most desperately wanted to know. Would it be the same?

"If I had known that you and Sergeant Barnes were alive, Captain..." She admitted. "I would have returned in an instant, I give you my word."

He smiled, rubbing a thumb over the back of her hand. A red blush hugged her cheeks as he did so.

It was typical of him that he couldn't concentrate on the moment, "Why are you here?" He asked. "What are we protecting you from?"

She sighed. "The Svartalfar, or the dark elves. You may know them - they attacked Thor in the Midgardian city of London some years ago now." He nodded in recognition.

"They are determined to conquer Alfheim, and have set their sights on my family. They have already managed to get close to killing me."

She pushed the collar of her dress down, showing a large, angry, red scar just above her collarbone. His hands flew up to trace the scar. She gulped at the close contact, her eyes meeting his.

His expression gave away his concern, knowing that Thor had suggested she was in a lot of danger. "Don't worry, Princess. You're safe here." He smiled, softly. "We'll protect you with everything we've got."

"Thank you, Captain."

"It's just Steve." He unhooked their hands, and gave her his arm. She linked her arm in his, and he resumed wandering down the halls to her rooms. "Do you have any bags?"

"No, I fled to Asgard with nothing when I needed healing. The Asgardians were kind enough to offer many gorgeous clothes for me to bring, but I figured they were a bit conspicuous."

Steve laughed, "Yeah, they might be."

They walked for a little while longer, before Steve entered a room to the side. It was rather basic compared to what she was used to, but it would more than suffice for the meantime.

"This is your room." He stood by the door as she entered. "I'm just down the hall if you need anything. I'll get Tony to send you some less conspicuous clothes. See you at dinner."

"Thank you, Steven." He laughed at her inability to be too informal with him. He nodded at her, and turned to walk down the hall to his room.

As he entered, the photograph of her from the Smithsonian caught his eye from the nightstand. He picked it up, tracing her features with his finger - unable to stop the smile spreading across his face. Who would've thought? Not only was his girl alive, she was also alien royalty. Sometimes, just sometimes, he adored his strange, strange world.

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"Sir," The agent walked into the dark room with purpose in her every step. "The Princess has been spotted."

The man in the chair looked up at the mention of his target. "Show me" he ordered. He watched as agent transferred the images on her tablet to the big screen, showing grainy, far away surveillance of the avengers compound.

As low quality as the image was, the woman arriving with Thor in the distinctive Alfar dress and armour was certainly the princess.

"Oh, my dear..." The man's deep voice dragged out. "You have walked right into our sights."

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a/n: let me know what you think! if you can't tell, this is basically the set up for a longer series... i'm really excited to explore this character and get deeper into the relationships!

i've never really written in the third person POV before, so let me know if it's something you like or not, and i can switch for the next part.

please like/reblog if you enjoy! let me know if you would like to be tagged in the next part <3

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chaoticforever · 8 months ago

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Thunderous Pursuits | Yandere Thor x Male! Reader

Summary: Let this be a lesson to Thor’s old friend. Love is a fragile thing, easily broken by jealous gods. Especially Thor.

A/n: Smut is present.

Another day of saving the world.

Thor plopped himself down in the booth as his teammates began to settle down beside him. The restaurant the Avengers went to for the evening was a lavish and elegant establishment in New York, with high ceilings, gold chandeliers, and soft, ambient lighting. The walls were painted a deep shade of red, and the booth was comfortable and spacious, with a single red rose adorning the center of the table.

Earlier that afternoon, the Avengers had saved Earth again from yet another alien invasion. To celebrate this victory, Tony decided to take his teammates to a five-star restaurant in the city since some of them hadn't been to one before. He had arranged a private booth in a secluded corner of the restaurant for them to eat.

The God of Thunder opened the menu and gazed through the different choices. Thor didn’t eat earthly food as much, but he was going to enjoy them this evening.

Soon, a waiter approached their booth.

"Hello, my name is Y/n, and I will be your server tonight," a polite voice addressed. "Can I get y'all started on some drinks?"

Thor paused when he heard the waiter introduce himself. That voice... he would know that anywhere. Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the menu, and his eyes locked with the person standing near the table.

And, sure enough, it was him.

Y/n L/n.

"Y/n!" Thor's lips curled into a big smile.

The waiter looked up from the pad in his hands when he heard his name called. A fond grin appeared on his face when he saw the individual who called out to him.

"Hi, Thor!" Y/n walked around the table and the God stood up to give him a brief hug before stepping back. "It's so great to see you again. It's been too long, and wow, you cut your hair! It looks amazing."

"Thank you, old friend," Thor boomed, as he took his seat again, his piercing blue eyes never leaving his old friend's form. "It has been so long. I never expected to find you here, a restaurant, of all places."

The other Avengers quietly observed the exchange. They were intrigued by Thor's familiarity with someone the team didn't recognize. After all, they knew of Thor's brief friendships with Darcy and his ex-girlfriend, Jane, but this one was a new face. As they watched the guys interact, it became clear that Thor and his friend had a history that went back a long way.

Steve spoke, "So, Y/n, how do you know Thor? It looks like you two go way back."

The waiter nodded. "We do go way back. Way back. I was once an Asgardian god."

The five Avengers exchanged surprised glances. Clearly, they had not expected such a revelation. But Thor, on the other hand, frowned at Y/n's choice of words.

"Y/n, what do you mean, you 'were once' an Asgardian God?" His tone was sharp with curiosity, and his eyes searched for answers in Y/n's e/c eyes. Why did Y/n voice that? Was he not a God anymore?

The former Asgardian cleared his throat, a subtle signal that the topic wasn't one he wished to delve into at this moment. "That is a story for another day. But for now, what can I get you heroes to drink?"

Tony was the first one to speak up and he ordered a martini, shaken, not stirred. Steve opted for a Coca-Cola, while Clint chose a cocktail. Natasha requested a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, and Bruce kept it simple, ordering a glass of water. However, Thor remained silent, his gaze fixed on Y/n. His mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts known only to the man.

"Uh, Point Break, it’s your turn," Tony said.

Thor blinked twice, momentarily startled before clearing his throat and tearing his gaze away from Y/n. "Aye, my apologies. I will have... uh, what is that earthly drink you mortals enjoy so much?" He looked to Tony for guidance, who rolled his eyes.

"You mean beer?" The billionaire supplied.

Thor nodded, turning his gaze back to Y/n. "Yes, I will have a human beer, please."

Y/n nodded and jotted down the orders with swift movements of his pencil. He turned to leave but paused, and asked if they were ready to order food or if they needed more time with the menu. As it turned out, everyone was ready to order.

The male server took their food orders, starting with Tony again, who ordered a steak with sides of mac and cheese and broccoli cheese casserole. Steve opted for a classic bacon cheeseburger and fries, while Clint chose a plate of pasta with garlic bread. Natasha ordered sushi with a side of chicken, and Bruce opted for a massive plate of ribs and mashed potatoes. Thor mirrored Bruce’s choice.

After writing down their food orders, Y/n left, heading to the kitchen and leaving the heroes to their conversation. Thor's eyes followed Y/n's retreating figure, his mind racing with numerous questions.

As the Avengers talked, Thor found it hard to focus. His mind kept wandering back to Y/n, his old friend who was now a waiter. He couldn't shake his curiosity about what happened to Y/n since they last saw each other and the implication that the man had given up his godhood.

"Thor," Natasha's voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. "It seems like you and Y/n have quite the history. Care to fill us in?" Her tone was inviting, leaving the decision to share entirely up to Thor.

"I've known Y/n since the dawn of time. He came to Asgard as a young adult and we were very close. We fought in battles and went on countless journeys. Though it seems I missed this part of his journey."

Clint, who was sitting across from Thor, arched a brow and gave him a knowing look. "Dude," Clint wiggled his eyebrows. "you have a crush on him, don't you?" It seems that nothing escaped Clint's gaze.

Natasha playfully nudged Clint, as Bruce shook his head. He muttered something about Clint being an idiot though a small chuckle did manage to escape his throat.

A slight pink hue tinted Thor's cheeks. "I certainly do not have a crush on him."

And that was true — Thor did not have a crush on Y/n. On the contrary, what he felt for his old friend ran deeper than a fleeting crush, even after all these years.

A little while later, Y/n returned with two more servers that had trays filled with food and drinks. They carefully placed everything on the table, ensuring that everyone received their ordered meals. "Guys, enjoy your meal, and feel free to flag me down if you need anything else," Y/n then left the Avengers to their meal.

They ate, and the conversation shifted to their recent battle and the close calls they had faced. Thor, once again, found his attention divided between the lively discussion and his silent observations of Y/n as the waiter efficiently moved between tables, tending to other people.

He needed to speak with him.

So, when the dinner concluded and Tony paid the bill, leaving a generous tip for Y/n's exceptional service, the group began to make their way out toward the waiting limo. However, Thor lingered behind, his eyes seeking out Y/n, who was clearing a table. Thor made his way over to him.

"Y/n," Thor’s voice was low and serious, causing Y/n to pause in his clearing and looked up at Thor, "a word if you please."

Y/n straightened up and offered a smile. "Of course, Thor. What can I do for you?"

"I must know, old friend, everything that has happened in your life up until now."

Y/n's smile remained unwavering. "And I'll tell you everything you want to know tomorrow. Meet me in Central Park at twelve o'clock. You and I will catch up."

The thunderous God nodded, feeling satisfied with that arrangement as he placed a hand on Y/n's shoulder. "Until tomorrow, my friend. I look forward to it."

As Y/n walked away with dishes in his hands, Thor's eyes trailed after him. Why was his friend working as a server in a human restaurant? What had happened to him in Asgard? And most importantly, why'd he say he 'was once' an Asgardian God? Thor had his suspicions about the last question, but he still needed to get the missing piece of the puzzle from Y/n.

The only plausible explanation for Y/n's situation was that Y/n must have been stripped of his powers and made mortal, much like Odin had done to him before.

But the question remained: why? There were only two ways for a god to lose their powers: either through transferring their consciousness into another mortal body or by having their powers forcibly taken away. Y/n still inhabited the same body for centuries, automatically ruling out the first option. This left Thor with the conclusion that someone must have taken his powers, and he hoped that his dad hadn't been involved in such an act.

Suddenly, the restaurant door opened, and Bruce's voice rang out. "Thor, come on! Tony said you have thirty seconds to get out here or he's telling the limo driver to pull off without you. Let's get moving."

With a playful roll of his eyes at Tony's impatience, Thor followed Bruce out of the restaurant and into the waiting limo.

The limo glided through the city streets on the way back to the Compound, and Thor's thoughts inevitably drifted to Y/n. He recalled the curve of his lips when he smiled, the way the black waiter's attire highlighted his handsome features, and Clint's accusation about having a crush.

Indeed, as Thor had voiced earlier, it was more than a crush. The love he felt for Y/n ran deeper than mere infatuation, and it had only bloomed stronger over time.

One thing's for sure: over the years, Y/n had been the object of Thor's late-night fantasies more times than he cared to admit, even during his semi-relationship with Jane. Y/n was the main reason he couldn't fully commit to her. The thought of having Y/n beneath him, moaning his name while begging for release, was a desire Thor had harbored for some time.

In Thor's mind, he felt that this was an opportunity given to him. It was clear to Thor that their paths had crossed again for a reason — because they were meant to be together. Why else would they have reconnected now — when Y/n seemingly needed him? It was a sign from the gods. So, he would first speak to Y/n, and then the two could focus on their relationship.

Thor couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

XXXXX XXXXX

The wait until the next day felt like an eternity for the God of Thunder. He was so ready to see Y/n once more and learn about everything that had transpired in his life recently. He knew that Y/n would be there on time; it was in their nature to honor commitments, no matter how tiny.

Finally, the clock struck twelve, and Thor found himself standing in Central Park. The sun shone brightly, its rays dancing through the leaves of the trees, casting dappled shade on the grass, and a nice breeze stirred in the air. As he ventured further into the park, his eyes spotted a familiar figure sitting at a bench beneath the sprawling branches of a big oak tree.

There, casually leaning back against the bench with one leg casually slung over the other, was Y/n. He looked utterly at ease, dressed in a simple white tee and faded jeans. The outfit accentuated his nice, broad shoulders, and Thor's eyes wandered appreciatively over Y/n’s body.

He looked good.

Real good.

Thor's footsteps quickened, his eagerness to reunite properly with his old friend unmistakable. He knows that he just saw him yesterday, but the short amount of time wasn't enough to satisfy his longing for his company. Y/n noticed Thor approaching and gave him a slight smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Hey, Y/n," Thor greeted, his voice warm and deep. He extended his hand, and Y/n took it, letting Thor pull him into a hug.

"It's good to see you, T-Man," Y/n replied, using the old nickname he had for Thor. Hearing it now made Thor's heart flutter, and he loved the way it rolled off his lips.

Settling onto the bench, Thor's curiosity got the better of him. He knew that Y/n held the answers to the many questions swirling in his mind. So, without further ado, he decided to dive straight into the heart of the matter, forgoing the human tendency to beat around the bush now.

"My dear comrade," Thor began, his eyes locked intensely on Y/n. "You have much to tell me, and I am eager to hear it. How is it that Y/n, son of Hera and Zeus, God of Time, finds himself here on Midgard, serving mortals as a waiter? The last I heard, you were a protector of this realm."

The former God clasped his hands in his lap but he maintained eye contact with Thor. It was always customary to look someone in the eyes when speaking.

"I was the protector of this realm," he confirmed, "But your father and I had our fair share of disagreements. He deemed me reckless and unworthy, and in a fit of anger, he stripped me of my powers and banished me here to Midgard. I've been living as a mortal for almost two years."

A frown marred Thor's handsome features as he listened to Y/n's words, his eyebrows knitting together in anger. Stripped of his powers and exiled here — it was a brutal punishment, one that stirred a protective instinct within the God of Thunder. He knew firsthand the pain of being stripped of one's powers. The idea of Y/n, the mighty God of Time, being reduced to working at a job, was an insult to everything they stood for.

"That old fool!" Thor growled, feeling his anger rising. "To treat you, another God who has served Asgard for thousands of years with such cruelty is an outrage. He cannot keep doing this to people like us," he took Y/n's hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze, and Thor felt a burning desire to set things right. "Rest assured, I'll find a way to have him restore your abilities."

Y/n shook his head. "There's no need for that. I've accepted my fate as a mortal, and in some ways, I enjoy being human."

Thor's eyebrows ascended. "You do?"

Thor's surprise was evident on his face. The tall God remembered all too well the emotions that had consumed him when he was stripped of his powers and sent to Earth — the anger, the bitterness, and the overwhelming sense of tiredness that came with realizing that walking as a mortal was far more challenging than he had anticipated with long distances.

The waiter nodded in confirmation. "I do. There are some drawbacks to being human, like getting tired and injured, and I do miss being able to manipulate time. But being human granted me a freedom I never experienced before," Y/n paused, a faraway look in his eyes as if recalling a fond memory. "And I even found love."

Suddenly, the air in Central Park seemed to grow thick with each passing second. The once-bright sun was now concealed by the gathering of dark storm clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low, menacing growl that echoed through the trees. Additionally, the breeze picked up, carrying the scent of impending rainfalls.

Lightning crackled around the god's left fingertips, a visual manifestation of his rising emotions. His vision darkened at Y/n's words, and he gently withdrew his right hand from Y/n's grasp. Did Y/n just say what he thinks he just said? He had—

Y/n had found love. The word "love" reverberated through Thor like a strike of lightning, sending an unwelcome jolt of awareness through him. Love implied intimacy, tangled limbs, and passionate kisses. The thought of Y/n sharing such closeness with someone else awakened a surge of possessiveness through him.

Sensing the change in the weather, Y/n glanced up, noticing the dark clouds that had gathered. He looked around, seeing people leaving the park, then he turned his gaze to the man sitting next to him.

"Uh, Thor?"

Hearing his name, Thor snapped out of his turbulent thoughts and took a steady breath, consciously calming himself. As a response, the clouds above dissipated, replaced by the hot sun. The harsh wind softened, and the lightning that crackled from his fingertips faded away without a trace. The weather returned to normal.

"Love?" Thor echoed, his tone carefully neutral; he grappled with the unfamiliar emotion swirling within him. He tamped down the spike of jealousy, not wanting to seem possessive or unfair. They had been apart for years now, living separate lives, so what right did he have to claim Y/n's heart? And yet, the thought of Y/n being intimate with a male or a female stirred a possessive hunger deep within him, a feeling he had never experienced before, not even during his brief period with Jane. "Who is this person that has captured your heart?" He dangerously murmured disguised as casual curiosity.

Y/n smiled softly. "Her name is Maya."

"And how did you come to meet Maya?" Thor asked, his tone carefully controlled, even as that name rolled off his tongue like a sweet poison. But he schooled his features, keeping his emotions in check.

"Well, when I was sent to Earth, I found myself in the middle of an open road at night. Maya accidentally hit me with her car, but she took me into her apartment to rest up and recover. We spent a lot of time together, and eventually, we started dating as they say. She's a great woman."

A jaw clenched; Thor's teeth grinded as he forced himself to remain composed. So, Y/n had found love with this... Maya. "I see," his fingers curled into a fist. "And Is she aware of your past?" Y/n nodded silently in response. "Where is she now?"

The h/c-haired male seemed completely oblivious to the undercurrents of Thor’s jealousy as he spoke. "Maya had a hair appointment today, but she should be here soon, and you'll get to meet her."

Can't wait, Thor thought. He needed to see this Maya, to put a face to the name that now felt like a curse on his tongue. But more than that, he wanted to assert his presence, to let Maya know that Y/n was his first and would always belong to him. Furthermore, he would make sure—

"There you are, Y/n!"

Instantly, Thor's head whipped around to see a female approaching their bench. This must be Maya. Her dark hair fell in loose waves down to her back, perfectly complementing her complexion and her radiant smile. She wore a comfortable denim jeans jumpsuit that hugged her hips, showcasing her curvaceous figure.

"About time you got here," Y/n stood to greet her with a soft smile, leaning down to brush his lips on her cheek. Her arms wrapped around him, and the affection between the couple was as clear as day.

"Sorry, I had to get my coffee. You know how I get," Maya let out a soft chuckle, her eyes widening as she looked over at the person sitting on the bench with her boyfriend. "Y-You're Thor!" she turned to Y/n again. "You did not tell me your old friend was the Thor from the Avengers!"

Y/n held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, you knew I was a god at one point, and that I'd be meeting an old friend. Who's the one, popular god that's currently running around New York City?"

"Still, you could've mentioned it was an Avenger!" Maya exclaimed, turning back to The god, who had been observing the exchange with a neutral expression. She held out her hand for him to shake. "It's so nice to meet you, Thor. I'm a big fan!"

Standing from the bench, Thor's tall and muscular frame towered over Maya, but not Y/n, who stood at a similar height. He shook Maya's hand gently, his gaze flickering briefly to Y/n's. "It's a pleasure to put a face to the name of the woman who has stolen my friend's heart," Thor's voice held an underlying current of quiet possession that the other two didn’t pick up on. "He has told me things about you."

"Oh, has he? Only good things, hopefully."

"I promise, only good things, babe," Y/n assured, his eyes shifting briefly to Thor. "So, Maya and I were just about to go to the carnival. Do you want to tag along?"

The God shook his head. "Thank you for the invitation, but I must decline. I have matters that require my attention back at the Avengers Compound." As much as Thor longed to spend more time with Y/n, he did not want to be a third wheel or see these two being affectionate.

The woman nodded in understanding. "I understand. You have the world to save and all. Perhaps next time if you're free."

"Most definitely," Thor agreed, his eyes following Y/n and Maya as they walked away, with Y/n's left hand in Maya's right.

A frustrated growl rumbled in Thor's throat as he raked a hand through his newly trimmed brown hair. This reunion had not gone as he had envisioned. He had imagined catching up on old times, and perhaps, even confessing his long-held feelings for Y/n. But, unfortunately, Maya's presence had ruined his plans.

The desire to remove this woman from the equation burned within Thor, and he knew there was only one way to do that. However, he understood that any harm brought upon Maya would hurt Y/n, and he didn't want to see his old friend hurt. Therefore, Thor decided to let Maya be.

At least, for now.

XXXXX XXXXX

In all honesty, Thor had been planning to return to the Compound. The thought of witnessing someone else's affection for Y/n was too much to bear. He had turned around, prepared to walk in the opposite direction when he changed his mind.

He turned back, deciding to secretly join Y/n and Maya at the carnival. He needed to see for himself the depth of Maya's love for Y/n when they were together.

The God maintained a discreet distance as he trailed secretly behind Y/n and his unfortunate girlfriend, not wanting them to realize he was following them. A few minutes later, he watched as the couple purchased their admission tickets and walked into the carnival, their hands still entwined. Thor lingered at the entrance, his eyes fixed on their retreating figures.

Thor paused at the entrance of the carnival, his mind formulating a plan. With the money Tony had generously provided, he decided to purchase a cap and sunglasses from the nearby store, employing a tactic he had learned from his time with the Avengers — infiltrating places and staying hidden in plain sight.

After getting his disguise, Thor paid for an admission ticket and stepped inside.

The carnival was alive with the scent of cotton candy, popcorn, and funnel cake, mingling with both the excited chatter of children and the loud music blaring from speakers. People of all ages were there today, laughing and screaming as they rode roller coasters, tested their luck at games, and snacked on delicious foods.

Hidden behind sunglasses and a black cap, Thor moved with the crowd, his tall frame blending seamlessly into the sea of humans. His sharp eyes scanned the area, searching for the man he desired.

And as Thor navigated the carnival, his frustration mounted with each passing minute. He searched in vain for any sign of the couple, eyes scanning the crowds for Y/n and Maya, but couldn't find them anywhere. Heat started burning in Thor's chest that had nothing to do with the hot weather — but was rather fueled by his rising impatience and possessiveness.

"Damn it, where are they?" He muttered under his breath, irritation in his voice.

Thor quickened his pace.

Dodging between families and groups of teenagers, he walked past the game booths, bumper cars, and food stations.

His determined search finally paid off as he spotted Y/n's distinctive profile at the milk bottle toss game booth, a ball in his hands as he prepared to throw it. Maya stood behind him, holding a sundae cup with two spoons, as she cheered Y/n on.

Adjusting his sunglasses, Thor stepped closer to them. He watched as his friend threw the ball and knocked over a stack of milk bottles with accuracy. That didn’t surprise Thor; Y/n had been a seasoned warrior for thousands of years, after all.

The man behind the booth handed Y/n a stuffed animal—a tan plush dog— which Y/n then gave to Maya. Her smile lit up her face when she received the nice gift.

The couple walked away, sharing the sundae and laughing together. Thor's fists clenched at his sides as he fought the instinct to march over and pull Maya away — to claim what was rightfully his.

Instead, Thor forced himself to maintain a cool and distant demeanor, following his prey. He remained hidden, observing their interactions without them knowing. He kept his distance as the couple rode roller coasters, played more games, and indulged in stupid affectionate gestures. Throughout it all, Thor's anger bubbled, especially when Y/n had the audacity to cup Maya's cheek and kiss her softly.

That did it.

Thor knew he had promised himself that he wouldn't hurt Maya for Y/n's sake, not wanting to see him unhappy. But — after witnessing their interactions throughout the day, something snapped within him, and he didn't care about his promise. He decided that Y/n was meant to be happy with him — and him alone. The thought of anyone else having Y/n's heart was unbearable, and Thor found himself no longer caring about the consequences. He had no choice but to get rid of Maya.

On Friday night, Maya was leaving her workplace alone, while Y/n was at work. The night air was crisp, carrying a hint of a chill, as the streetlights casted orange glows along the pavement. Thor silently followed her. He kept a careful distance, mirroring her movements: walking when she walked, turning the corner when she turned, and stopping when she stopped. He hid when she turned around as if she knew somebody was trailing behind her.

A gust of wind rustled the leaves. Maya shivered from the cool, spring weather and pulled her jacket tighter, quickening her pace considerably. Her eyes glanced but she saw no one there. Unbeknownst to her, the threat loomed closer than ever.

As Maya passed an alleyway, the wind picked up again, and she felt a sense of unease. She stilled, feeling like she was being watched, "H-Hello?" she called out, her voice trembling. "Is someone there?"

Silence answered her, but Maya could've sworn she felt eyes boring into her back. She turned around, but the alleyway was empty. With a sense of unease lingering, she began walking, her steps faster now as she hurried towards the safety of her home, never pausing. Finally, she arrived at her apartment building and sauntered inside, the door closing firmly behind her.

As Maya set her keys down on the table and turned around, she let out a startled gasp at the sight of Thor standing there.

Quickly, Thor locked the top and bottom locks, feeling satisfaction from noticing the fear that flashed through her eyes.

Good, Thor thought, satisfied, be scared.

XXXXX XXXXX

The morning sun's rays filtered through the thin curtains, their warmth caressing Y/n's features, gently waking him up. He stretched languidly, and sat up, yawning. Then, the e/c-eyed man opened his eyes completely and headed to the bathroom.

One of the first things Y/n incorporated into his life as a mortal man was a nice skincare regimen. Maya had explained to him that humans often used facial masks to keep their skin clear and free from acne. In his previous life as a god, Y/n had never had to worry about such concerns, as his skin had always been flawless. Without his powers, however, he now found himself susceptible to the same skin issues that plagued mortals. So, he used these facial skin care masks.

Though Y/n can admit that he quite enjoyed these face masks. The soft texture against his skin was surprisingly wonderful, and the masks worked great.

He feels like his sister, Aphrodite.

After completing his morning routine, he grabbed his phone and made his way to the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, already prepared, as he dialed Maya's number. The ringing tone echoed aloud and was greeted by her voicemail.

The phone heading straight to voicemail didn't entirely surprise Y/n. He knew that she loved sleeping in after a hectic work week. He decided to pay her a surprise visit since he had been given a spare key.

Y/n opened the door and was prepared to step through it when his feet paused and looked down, suddenly noticing the white envelope on the ground. Frowning in confusion, he bent down to pick it up, his eyes scanning the words inscribed on the envelope: "To Y/n, From Maya."

Intrigued, Y/n opened the envelope, his eyes reading over the paragraph, and the frown on Y/n’s features deepened. Huh—

The note read: My dearest Y/n,

Hope all is going well. I just wanted you to know that you’ll always have a special place in my heart, and our relationship is the best thing that ever happened to me.

It pains me to say this, but, to be honest, I have fallen out of love. Our relationship has run its course, and I think we are no longer meant to be. My love for you has faded like a flower wilting under the sun.

Please know that this was an incredibly difficult decision for me, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

I wish you nothing but happiness. May you continue to find love and fulfillment in life. And who knows, maybe our paths will cross again when we least expect it. Until that happens tho, farewell, my love.

With a heart full of memories,

Maya.

The note left Y/n stunned and confused. Maya had seemed happy and content in their relationship. How could she just fall out of love and walk away like this? It didn't make sense to him in the least. There's no way this letter could be real.

What—? Huh—? More questions plagued his mind as he couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal and hurt. What had he done wrong? Had he pushed her away without realizing it? Or was there someone else?

Shaking his head, Y/n left his apartment building and headed straight for Maya's place. He needed to hear the reason for her decision from her own mouth, rather than reading it on a piece of paper. That wasn't fair to him and he deserved more.

Y/n's footsteps echoed hurriedly against the pavement as he hurried along the streets, rounding corners and navigating crosswalks. Finally, he arrived at Maya's place and hastily knocked on the door.

There was no response.

Then, Y/n inserted the spare key into the lock, twisted it, and marched inside. He stepped further into the room and called out to Maya when he noticed something.

Maya's apartment was empty.

It was completely devoid of her personal belongings — no furniture, decorations, nothing at all. He searched every room, drawer, and closet, but found no trace of her here. It was as if she never lived here.

Y/n pulled out his phone and tried to call Maya again — but it just went straight to voicemail. The realization sank in — this letter wasn't a joke or a prank. Maya had surely left him, and she hadn't even had the decency to do it in person or provide a proper explanation for her decision.

It was a hurtful and callous way to end their relationship. That's so messed up.

Y/n's hands balled into fists at his sides, the letter crumpling within his grasp. He felt a prickling sensation at the corners of his eyes, and he realized that he was experiencing two very human emotions:

Crying and heartbreak.

Y/n knew that gods experience human emotions such as crying, too. But now that Y/n was human, the experience felt different. In that moment, he understood the depths of his feelings for Maya. This was why mortals spoke of love as both a blessing and a curse — it can give you joy but could also inflict unbearable pain.

He exited Maya's apartment building, the crumpled letter still clutched in his hand, a tangible reminder of what he had lost. His eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, were facing downward as he walked, his thoughts consumed by these emotions. It was this lack of focus that caused him to accidentally bump into someone else, knocking their umbrella from their hand.

Crouching down, Y/n wrapped his hand around the umbrella to pick it up, but he found that he couldn't. Y/n bent down to retrieve the fallen umbrella, however, to his surprise, he found that he couldn't lift it. He tried with both hands this time, but the umbrella remained stubbornly out of reach. Jeez, this simple umbrella feels as hard as trying to lift Thor's hammer—

Wait a minute.

Y/n's eyes drifted upward, and he found Thor standing there, which means this umbrella was Thor's hammer in disguise.

"Oh, hi, Thor." Y/n’s voice came out soft, despite the emotions currently coursing through his mind, releasing his hold on the hammer. "Might want to pick that up."

Thor complied, lifting the hammer, eyes fixed on Y/n's e/c eyes. "Are you okay?"

Y/n’s response was quick. "Yes, I’m fine."

Unconvinced by Y/n's fake composure, Thor placed a hand on his shoulder, his eyes filled with concern. "You know you don't have to pretend to be okay when it comes to me. You can tell me anything."

Finally, Y/n conceded. "Maya left me. Out of the blue, she broke things off and disappeared, and I don't understand why."

Thor's eyes softened, and he pulled Y/n into a comforting embrace. "I'm so sorry to hear that," his voice was, unknowingly, laced with feigned sympathy. "That lady doesn't deserve the honor of your love."

Unbeknownst to Y/n, a smirk played on Thor's lips, his eyes gleaming with a mix of vindication and triumph. He didn't like seeing Y/n in pain, but it was necessary.

The pain was only temporary, and Y/n would eventually get over this simple mortal. Then, there would be room for Thor, and they could finally be together.

In the weeks that followed, Y/n slipped into a deep depression. He spent most days lying in bed, thoughts consumed by the memories of Maya. He questioned everything, from his own worthiness to the nature of love itself. He didn't get it. Why had she left? Was he truly enough? These thoughts ate away at him — like maggots devouring the flesh of the dead.

Additionally, the only thing that stirred him from his bleak existence was his work. The familiarity of the restaurant, the mechanical tasks of serving tables, provided a fleeting sense of normalcy.

And throughout it all, there was only one person who was there for him — Thor.

The God of Thunder checked in on him regularly, offering words of comfort and support for his pal. He brought takeout, watched movies with him, and listened as the man poured out his heart, sharing his heartbreak and confusion. Thor was a great presence during his time of need.

In Thor's presence, he found himself smiling more. His appetite returned, and the dark circles under his eyes gradually faded. Y/n felt a little like himself again.

One evening, after Y/n finished his shift at the restaurant, he found himself with Thor in his bedroom. A movie played in the back, but they were too engrossed in conversation to pay attention to it. Thor had asked Y/n about his deepest desire.

"Well, being here on Earth for a long time made me desire love the most," was his admission as Y/n thought back to when he thought he had found love. "It seems that love is the emotion humans desire the most. I guess I'm one of them too."

Thor's eyes roamed over Y/n's face as if searching for something. And then, with deliberate slowness, he leaned in closer, his thumb gently stroking the back of Y/n's hand, sending shivers down his spine.

"I can give you the love you crave, Y/n," Thor murmured, voice deep and husky, his thumb continuing its gentle caress.

Y/n sat up straighter, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. He grabbed the remote and turned off the television, their conversation now the sole focus.

"What do you mean?" he asked curiously.

"I mean," Thor's voice rumbled. "I can show you what it means to be desired."

Y/n opened his mouth to ask the man to elaborate when Thor surged forward, his left hand cupping the back of Y/n’s neck and capturing his lips in a brutal kiss. Y/n gasped into the kiss as Thor's tongue, invaded his mouth, tasting and claiming, leaving no doubt about his intentions.

E/c eyes widened in surprise at this, but Y/n didn’t immediately pull away. Thor's kiss was demanding, possessive as his free arm wrapped around Y/n, placing a hand on his back, pulling him closer. Y/n could feel Thor's hardness against his left thigh, straining against the fabric of his pants, and he moaned into the kiss.

Suddenly, Y/n pulled away slightly, breathless. "Thor, I—"

"Shh," Thor placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "You want this, Y/n. You want my touch, my possession. Admit it, and I'll give you the love that you desire. You’ll forget all about that mortal, Maya."

Stunned by this turn of events, Y/n could only manage a breathless, "Alright," he knew that he did crave this intimacy and always found Thor attractive. He wanted to feel that type of intimacy once more.

Suddenly, he felt the powerful urge to assert his agreement more physically, more explicitly. So, he pushed Thor onto his back, straddling his muscular thighs.

A devilish smile curved Thor's lips as he tugged on Y/n's shirt, eager to taste the body of the guy that he had daydreamed about countless times. With a sharp tug, buttons flew across the room, revealing smooth skin and toned muscles beneath.

"Dangerous move, little waiter," Thor murmured, his hands roaming across Y/n's chest, thumbs grazing perky nipples that tightened, hardened from his touch. "Now, I get to have my way with you."

Then, Thor trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along Y/n's jawline and down his neck. His teeth scraped gently over Y/n's pulse point, nipping and sucking until a dark bruise formed. Y/n's breath hitched as Thor's hand glided lower, his fingers tracing the waistband of his sweatpants.

"You like it when I touch you, don't you?" Thor whispered, his hot breath fanning across Y/n's ear, "Tell me what you want."

Y/n craned his neck to allow Thor better access to his neck and shoulders. "I... I want you to touch me, Thor. Everywhere."

Thor didn’t need a further invitation. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of Y/n's pants, exploring the terrain of his six-pack abs before dipping lower. Y/n arched his back, his breath catching as calloused fingers brushed against the length of his already long, stiff cock.

"You're so hard for me, little one," Thor murmured, fingers teasing the outline of Y/n's length before pulling away. "I want to see it. Want to watch it throb for me."

With trembling fingers, Y/n removed his pants, sliding the fabric down his legs, along with his boxers. His cock twitched eagerly, the head already glistening with pre-cum. He had never been so aroused, so desperate to be touched and taken.

Thor's eyes darkened with desire as he reached for Y/n's cock, stroking it firmly, his right thumb teasing the sensitive slit. "That's it, my beautiful God. Let me see you. Show me how much you want this."

The former God's lips parted on a moan, his hips involuntarily bucking into Thor's hand quickly. "Please, Thor... don't stop."

Thor smirked, the possessive gleam in his eyes undeniable. "I plan to take this much further. But first, I want a taste..."

And with that, Thor leaned down, his hot breath tickling the head of Y/n's cock before his tongue darted out, licking a thick stripe up the underside. Y/n cried out, his hips jerking at the unexpected pleasure, and Thor chuckled, the sound vibrating against Y/n's sensitive flesh.

"So responsive," Thor murmured, his lips wrapping around Y/n's hardness as he sucked and teased with practiced skill.

Y/n threaded his fingers through Thor's hair, his head falling back as sensations bombarded him. Thor's tongue swirled and twirled, his lips sucking on his cock, driving Y/n wild with need. He looked up at Y/n through his eyelashes, reveling in the sight of his pleasure-clouded eyes, and he sucked Y/n's length deep into his mouth, his hands caressing Y/n's thighs, thighs that now tremble with anticipation.

"Please, Thor," Y/n begged, his voice raw with need. "I want to feel you inside me."

Thor released Y/n's cock from his mouth with a lewd pop, saliva dripping from his lips as his fingers unfastened his pants. "Time to see what a real god looks like."

Thor sat up, his eyes flashing with promise as he slowly revealed his thick, veiny cock. Y/n's mouth went dry at the sight, his own spent cock twitching with some renewed interest. Reaching inside the nightstand, Thor discovered a bottle of lube and slicked up his cock for Y/n.

"Damn, Thor, that's huge," Y/n whispered his gaze devouring every inch of Thor's masculine glory. "Even bigger than mine."

A smug grin stretched across Thor's face as he pushed Y/n back against the bed, kicking off his pants in the process. "Get a good look at this and commit this to your memory and your heart, because I intend to make you scream my name."

With that promise ringing in the air, Thor climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself between Y/n’s thighs and lining up the tip of his cock with his entrance.

"Tell me you want this, Y/n. Tell me you want me to fill you up." Thor's voice was low and commanding, his eyes intense.

Y/n nodded eagerly, his breath coming in short gasps. "Yeah, Thor. I want you. Please, take me. I need you inside me."

Hmm, Thor mused and pressed forward, his thick cock breaching Y/n with a slow, relentless thrust. Y/n cried out, his back arching off the bed as he was stretched wider than Y/n could remember. Thor paused, giving him a moment to adjust, but the reprieve was simply short-lived.

Thor began moving, his powerful thrusts driving Y/n into a euphoric haze. The bed creaked beneath them, the sound joined by the lewd slapping of skin and Y/n's loud moans as Thor’s hips moved.

"That's it, take it," The God of Thunder let out a growl, hands gripping Y/n's hips to gain better leverage. "You feel too good wrapped around my cock. I've dreamed of this... dreamed of claiming you, babe."

Y/n's eyes squeezed shut as he clung to Thor, his nails digging into the tall God's broad shoulders. "Oh, Thor, right there," he gasped, his entire body trembling on the edge of release. "Damn, I'm so close."

Thor's pace quickened, breath coming in hot, ragged gasps. "Open your eyes and look at me," he demanded, causing Y/n's eyes to snap open, his gaze locking with Thor's, and the Avenger's hand found his cock once again. "You make me feel like a true God. I could fuck you forever, but right now, I want you to come for me."

"Oh... fuck..."

In response to Thor's words, Y/n's body tightened like a coil, and he came with a hoarse cry, his release coating Thor’s fingers. Then, Thor emptied himself into Y/n, his hips stuttering as he rode out his orgasm, painting Y/n’s ass hole in ribbons of white. He maintained eye contact with Y/n the whole time. Mine.

Panting and sweaty, Thor pulled out of Y/n and they collapsed against the bed, hearts beating fast from their encounter.

Thor pressed a tender kiss to Y/n's lips, his hands stroking the sweat-dampened skin of Y/n's torso. "You're incredible, Y/n. We were always meant to be together."

This was a known fact, and tonight was simply proof of their love for each other. Now, he needed to make sure Maya was fully out of the picture (Thor forced her to write that note to Y/n, and had set up a secret camera in Y/n's apartment, the footage transmitted to a hidden monitor in another location where he kept Maya chained and captive). Now that she had seen the love between them, he would tell Heimdall to execute her, ensuring she posed no threat to their happiness again.

Now, all that remained was for Odin to restore Y/n's powers. Then, they would be together forever, unburdened by the constraints that mortality has on people.

Just as it was meant to be.

XXXXX XXXXX

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thefiery-phoenix · 11 months ago

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YANDERE TONY STARK X READER X YANDERE STEPHEN STRANGE

Get ready to be completely spoiled rotten and doted on 24/7/ 365 by these 2 since they will literally smother you with affection and love day in and day out

Very clever and crafty yanderes, quite a pair I tell you. And also literally impossible to escape from since they have science AND magic on their side. So, good luck escaping from them

Both of them don't have too much patience but I can see Tony being a tad bit more patient that Strange. No matter if you're a villain, Avenger, SHILED or HYDRA agent or even a civilian for that matter once you catch their attention you're dunzo

They'll take care of any pest in the way of you and them in less than 24 hours. These men here are not playing around when they tell you that crazy for you and they're madly in love with you

You won't be able to escape from them, ever since they've rigged the house with cameras in places you didn't even think or know that they could be there (No worries at least nothing's in the bathroom) and Strange's magic will prevent you from escaping. Now, if you act up with Tony, he'll just take your favorite stuff away and scold you like a disappointed dad. Now if Strange catches you acting up.... well, you'll be needing your running shoes and run as far as you can from him. That's all

Tony is kinda more lenient and laid back than Strange that's for sure. He'll let you get away with stuff and will lay it easy on you when you do some nutty stuff. Strange on the other hand takes discipline very seriously. As much as he loves, adores and cares for you he will NOT tolerate bad behavior from you at all. Even if his heart breaks and he feels like someone's stabbing him with a blade through his chest, he will make sure you behave like a good little girl/ boy for them

Tony can be a bit... over smothering at times which is why Stephen will drag him off of you anytime you want to be left alone or you need some space

Just play your cards right and assure them that you'll never leave them and you're good to go :)

#yandere tony stark x reader x yandere stephen strange #yandere tony stark x reader x yandere stephen strange headcanons #poly yanderes tony stark and stephen strange #poly yanderes #yandere tony stark x reader #yandere tony stark imagines #yandere tony stark headcanons #yandere stephen strange scenarios #yandere stephen strange imagines #yandere stephen strange x reader #yandere tony stark oneshots #yandere tony stark #dark avengers #dark avengers x reader #dark marvel x reader #dark avengers scenarios

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explosiongamora · 1 year ago

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Being mostly unloved your whole life with out much attention from people around you 🤝 loving obsessive yandere characters

#🤭#yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere got #yandere game of thrones #yandere marvel #yandere avengers #yandere xmen #yandere resident evil #yandere Leon kennedy #dark fics #yandere #dark #Yandere avatar #yandere spiderman #joe goldberg x reader #love quinn #love quinn x reader

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

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Winter soldier x reader ft sex pollen

Unhinged winter soldier with sex pollen. This is wildly inappropriate (with some fluff?...) but I thought of it so you must all suffer with me. Imagine Hydra filling the room with sex pollen immediately after Buck is wiped, sending him out at in his most feral state in hopes that the winter soldier will lose control and give into the urges they've forced into him. They need him to breed another super soldier since they were unable to replicate the serum in his veins.

As soon as the dust fills the room, his pupils dilate, his tac suit far too hot, his veins pumping so hard they feel like they're going to burst. The straps holding him down release and his chest is heaving, trying to calm down the primal needs hes feeling, pain prickling his skin the longer he stays in the room. He grunts, striding out of the room and into the night, chasing a craving he has to get out.

He moves without a soul detecting him, until a sweet scent catches his attention. Floral, natural, innocent. Fertile. He's suddenly hyper focused on the thing his body is screaming for, following the unsuspecting woman, his teeth grinding through the pain. She enters a building and he observes each window before seeing a lights turn on, her nude silhouette appearing through the curtains.

It takes no effort for him to climb up the fire escape, easily prying the locked window open only to be met with the sound of the shower running. Her scent permeates all his senses and he nearly strips off all his clothes then and there, the pollen causing lust that makes his bones ache. The water shuts off and hes waiting like a predator waiting for its prey, sitting perfectly still while the door clicks open. She gasps and freezes in place and he sight alone makes him growl.

Pathetic little bunny.

"Who-who are you" she whispers, clutching her towel tightly together though it's not like she didn't know. Tears fill her eyes seeing the deadly soldier people spoke about, unsure if he even existed, the very rumor now sitting on her bed. He doesn't anything, groaning at the feeling of his arousal steadily dripping from his cock, palming his erection.

"Please-don't" She shakes her head, seeing his hardness pressing against his pants, his large presence suffocating because she knows there's no where to run. He slips his mask off, revealing his dangerously handsome face, his eyes wild with lust and need.

"But I have to" He grits out, stalking over to her and grabbing her by the waist, burying his nose in her freshly washed hair, deeply groaning at the scent of her bodywash, "mne eto nuzhno, zayka" [I need this, bunny]

"No-I-I'll do anything-" She trembles, squeezing her eyes shut feeling his warm wet tongue lick up her neck as his mismatched hands rip her towel away, pulling her hips flush against his cock. The rough material of his tactical hear scratches her soft skin, making her whimper when when he bites her shoulder.

"takoy myagkiy krolik" [such a soft bunny] He throws her like a doll, her ass bouncing off the mattress, flat on her back back while he undoes his pants, pulling his cock out. She squeezes her legs shut, shaking her head, his fat bobbing length taunting her as he pumps himself while crawling onto the bed.

"It hurts bunny" He groans, forcing her legs apart, her natural scent nearly causing pain as he stares at her pussy. Her button between her legs involuntarily twitches and he pinches it hard making her squeal, the sound causing a drop of precum to spill out.

His head is so focused on getting his release, he doesn't bother prepping her, shoving his cock into her tight cunt, grunting and forcing his length in when he feels resistance. He stars to fuck her hard, holding both wrists in his metal hand, keeping her pinned under him while he splits her open.

"Hurts-too much-to big-stop-" She gasps out her pained cries melting into muddled moans of pleasure, her own body betraying her, feeling her own warmth wetting his cock making it easier for him to slip in and out. "Oh god-soldat-stop-don't-

"You're wet" He hisses, almost accusatorily, pounding her harder, faster until the bed shakes and scratches the floor, the serum pumping in his veins making his cock sensitive.

"I need this-I need it" Sweat beads at his forehead, his balls feeling heavier than usual, the pollen causing his body to produce more semen than he naturally would.

"YA chuvstvuyu zapakh, kakoy ty mokryy, zayka" [I can smell how wet you are bunny] His balls throb painfully, his cock ready to burst as his thrusts become more erratic. He snarled against her neck as pleasure starts to lick up his spine, the bruising grip on her wrists tightening as he starts to pump her full of his load without warning.

She whimpers feeling shame for the delicious stretch of his cock, her cunt fluttering, swollen from his abusive pace. She finds herself flipped over with her ass in the air, her face pressed against the sheets, his cock rock hard again, prodding at her puffy folds.

"Not done-need more" he growls lowly, stripping his clothes off, his body heat dialed to 100. His crotch is covered in cum, a mix of his and hers, the smell of her driving him insane as he grabs her hips and slams her to meet his thrusts again. He has more power at this angle, fucking her like a mad man, groaning with his head thrown back, eyes rolled to the back of his head, only focused on pleasuring his cock.

"Ty shlyukha Zimnego soldata, ty voz'mesh' to, chto ya tebe dayu" [You're the winter soldier's whore, you'll take what I give you] He's at his most unhinged, grunting and groaning, fucking her like an animal, her muffled screams only causing his cock to swell more. "Make me feel good, make it go away bunny"

"Soldat please stop-too big" she begs and he fucks her harder, making her moan, pulling another orgasm out of her body even if she fought against it. His thighs meet the back of hers, rolling and rocking his hips, hitting her cervix until her sweet juices squirt out of her, obscene sounds of skin on skin filling he room. "SOLDAT"

"I have to breed you bunny" He shakes his head, unwilling to leave until he's sure she's pregnant with his child, forcing every bit of his cum into her. "My fertile little bunny" He nips your skin, running his hands over her tummy, imaging it firm and round with his baby growing inside. He loved the thought of such an unsuspecting, sweet angel carrying the child of he soldier, all of his cum making a mess in her pussy.

By the last round, the pollen has started to dissipate and the cloud is lifting. He pants, still rutting into her pussy, something tugging at his conscious, shaking his head when the lusty animalistic haze weavers.

"T-tell me your name" He rasps, his heart beating wildly, loosening his grip on her. She whimpers from pain and to her surprise, he slowly down, still grinding himself in, burying her face into her neck. "zayka, pozhaluysta" [bunny, please]

"Y/n" she whispers, unsure of why she told him, her voice catching in her throat when his lips press against her skin. She's limp in his hold, the smell of sex permeating the room, the sheets soaked with his cum, but nothing more full than her cunt.

"Y/n" He moans, his body trembling as he nears the end of his final release, stilling till he's milked himself dry, her soft body worn under him. Something is wrong, he can feel it, the emotionless control he had before, slipping from his grasp. He yearns to hold the woman in his arms but he can't .Something stops him.

His movements are robotic as he pulls away and slips his clothes back on, memories unfamiliar to him flashing through his mind.

He wasn't the soldier.

He was-

Her soft snores pull her from his spiral, looking up to seeing her sleeping form, fucked out from the way he'd ruined her. He frowns at the unfamiliar feeling of concern he's experiencing, pulling the covers over her body.

"Thank you bunny" He whispers, making her whine in her sleep, calling for the soldier.

"I'm-

He shakes his head, his previously wild replaced with those of a young man from Brooklyn.

"B-Bucky"

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

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Another Heartbeat

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, captivity, elements/suggestions of feederism behaviour, breeding, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get your valentine's surprise.

Based on responses: Lap sitting, breeding, creampie, plus size reader, being carried

Characters: Steve Rogers

This is #2 of the Valentines Roulette stories

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You wince as the light aches in your eyelids. You stay hidden behind them as you raise your hand shakily. Your lashes wet with tears as you search for the strength to open them. You hunch down and slump further into the corner.

“Sweetheart,” his deep timbre fills the cramped space. “Hey, are you awake?”

You sense him come closer. You don’t have the voice to answer him. Are you awake? This feels like another rotten nightmare.

“Sweetheart?” His shadow dulls the glare shining through the open door. Open... there was a time when all you did was stare through the dark and pray for those hinges to turn. “It’s a special day.”

He touches your shoulder. You flinch. He curls his hand around your arm and slides you against the wall to sit straight. He catches your head as it bobbles on your neck.

“You can behave, can’t you?” His thumb brushes your cheekbone and he cooes at your witless murmuring. “I know you can be good for me. You have been.”

Your eyes are like marbles, threatening to roll back. The days, weeks, months, however long, blend together in blackness. The only light comes through when he slides back that narrow latch and pushes through the tray. A thick bitter smoothie and bland food. Nothing sugary or processed. You eat it or...

You shudder as your teeth ache at the memory of the metal clamp pushing open against them. The strain of your esophagus and the churning of stomach acid. No, you eat on your own and it keeps him happy. Nice, even.

“Alright, let’s get you ready, sweetheart,” he slips an arm behind you and another under your knees. He lifts you effortlessly. “Oh, sweetie,” he purrs, “you’re so...” his hand squeezes along your hip. “Soft.”

The food comes like clockwork. You clear the tray and push it back every time. You feel it engorging you, adding to the cushion around your hips and belly. Even your chest feels bigger.

He carries you into the light. You turn your head and hide your face against his hard chest. If you open your eyes, they’ll burn out of the sockets. It’s too bright. You cradle your face as all of your trembles.

“I know, sweetheart, gotta build up your strength,” he coaxes.

The motion of the world around you adds to the dizzy spin in your head. You lean into him as you feel like you might fall out of his grasp, even as he holds you snug. He finally puts you down. You fold over your lap instantly and he pushes you back up.

“Work with me,” he pets your hair.

You tense and quiver as you hold yourself up. You stopped standing up a while back, stopped trying to get any sort of exercise in that space. A cell. The prison he made for you.

“Alright, we’re going to get you cleaned up.”

His knuckles brush down your temples and cheek, then along your neck. He follows the silhouette of your body along your shoulders and arms. He gently reaches behind your neck to untie the knot behind it. He peels away the open back linen gown.

You shiver as your head hangs like a boulder.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he says.

You shudder and ball your hands. You exhale as your eyes singe with the effort. You have to obey or...

You whimper as you pry your lids open. He cradles your chin and forces your head up. Tears roll out and flow down your face. Everything around you is harsh yet fuzzy.

“I know, sweetie, gotta adjust,” he stands and lets you go cautiously.

You quake as you lean back against the cold tank of the toilet. He turns and dims the lights. You let your head sink again and watch the tile. The last time you saw those dainty blue diamonds, there was water splashed all around, your body was thrashing, your voice shrill and dry.

You jolt as you come back to the present. He lowers you into the tub as hot water laps down from the faucet. The steam rises around you in a cloud as he helps you recline against the porcelain.

His deep voice rises from his large chest. You stare at his shirt. He sings as he washes you with a cloth, suds foaming round his thick fingers. Your eyes creep up to thick beard along his jaw. His eyes are as bright as gems as they focus on his task. Everything is bright.

And heavy and rough. Just the cotton is enough to make your skin crawl. After so long in desolation, it’s like sandpaper. His voice is low but rattles your eardrums. The song plucks at your brain but you can’t place the memory.

What was before?

“Till the end of time, Long as stars are in the blue, long as there’s a spring, a bird to sing, I’ll go on loving you.”

You close your eyes and moan. He clucks.

“No, don’t go to sleep,” he bids.

Your eyes snap open. He continues his work. When he’s done, he lifts you out, leaning you against him as he wraps you in a towel. There’s a warm smell wafting from your skin.

He dries you meticulously and replaces the towel with a robe. He takes you to a new room. He sits you at a table with a framed picture of a woman above it. You blink as he moves beside the woman. It’s not a picture. It’s a mirror.

Is that really you?

He moves behind you and tugs at your hair. He pauses to check something as he arranges it. Some sort of instruction? Then he shifts you to face him. He uses pencils and brushes on you; tugging at your eyelids and spinning a wand against your lashes.

He puts you to face the mirror again. You look shinier. You? That’s you?

He dresses you in red. A plush cloud of fabric in light layers, with roses on the bodice, a short robe with puffed sleeves. He guides you before a bigger mirror. Tall. He stands behind you as he makes you look.

“You’re gorgeous, sweetheart,” he drags his hands up and down your sides. “You ready for your surprise?”

You mouth the words. You don’t think you can speak. He smiles and sits you on the cushioned stool again.

“I almost forgot about me.”

He leaves you and opens the closet. You watch his back. He’s so big. Tall, broad shoulders, thick hands.

Your eyes list to the door. You can’t stand without him. You press your soles to the floor and your calves shake. No, you won’t get very far.

“I can hear your excitement,” he turns with hangers hooked over a finger and taps on his chest with the other. “Sweetheart, you’re going to love it.”

He goes behind a folding screen painted with golden feathers. You can see his head above it as he changes. He emerges, knotting a patterned silk tie over his crisp white shirt. The jacket is a pale shade of grey that somehow makes his eyes bluer.

He nears and bends to check himself in the mirror. He combs his long hair back. His thick strands and beard don’t match the formality of his attire.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

He stands straight and bends his arm. You stare at it before your head clicks. He helps you stand and loops your arm through his. He walks you into the hallway. Your legs wobble dangerously.

He stops you before a closed door. There’s a small wooden sign hung on it that shows a stork. You frown. You wonder what it means. You waver as you expect him to put you back into the dark. You step back on your heel and whimper.

“Sweetie, you’re being good. You can stay out.”

He turns the crystal door knob. Something about the decor feels so... out of time. He pushes the door inward and unhooks his arm from yours. He guides you by your shoulders into the room, staying behind you.

The first thing you see are balloons. Big round balloons with pink ribbons and bows attached to them. The latex shines in shades of rose, blush, and ivory. They’re tied to the furniture that fills the room.

The walls are painted in shades of pastel, one is a forest scene with critters and birds behind branches and stones. There’s a dresser and a table with a pad on top. A chair and a matching ottoman, a rug that looks softer than a cloud, and at the center of it all, a crib. Above hangs a mobile with stars and moon.

“Happy Valentine's, sweetheart, you’ve been so good,” he praises as he trails his touch down your arm and takes your hand. He draws you around the room. “You like it?”

Your stomach stirs uneasily. You nod despite the violent tide inside you. This isn’t right. What is this?

“I knew you would. And you can help finish it. The little things. You know, I don’t have a good eye for the details,” he turns you to take it all in. The windows. There’s no sunlight coming in. Are they even real windows? They are just frames nailed to a wall.

“Come on,” he brings you to the chair and he sits. He tugs you by the hand. You nearly collapse. “Right here.”

He pats his thigh. You turn and he helps you sit. He pulls you against him to recline as the back lowers with his lean. He extends his legs onto the ottoman, yours with them.

He sighs as you lay atop him. He traces the length of your arms then feels along your torso, squeezing the padding along your stomach and chest. You squirm uncomfortably.

“You been eating good. Drinking your smoothies. Getting your vitamins,” he says. “I can see how good you’ve been.”

His hands stop on your thighs. He rubs the fabric then slowly drags it up with his fingers, crumpling it high above your naked legs. He tickles you and you wince as he kneads you more firmly.

His hand trails beneath the bunched skirt and he pets long your curly patch of hair. You hold your breath and tense. He pushes his fingertip between your folds and your voice trickles out in a squeak.

He rubs you as your insides squirm. You shift and he spreads his other hand across your stomach to still you. You slicken beneath his teasing touch. Your legs fall apart as he pushes his hand further back.

He exhales over you and drags his hand around your thigh. He slides it under you and his knuckles press into you as he plucks at his pants. He pushes his fly open as you wriggle against him. He shifts you up his body as his other hand dips down to your pelvis.

He angles you down as he guides his tip long your cunt. You arch your back as he wet himself with your juices. He delves into you slowly and you latch onto his wrist. You convulse as he gets deeper and deeper.

He rolls his hip, gliding out and back in. You clench around him and measure your breath around the tension in your muscles. He pushes in and you whine. He keeps a slow, even tempo as he stretches a finger down to toy with your clit.

“I was reading a lot. They say it’s better when you cum. To make sure it takes.”

His words confuse you. You can barely think as he makes his long thrusts. You brace the armrest as he unravels you tilt by tilt.

He swirls his fingers as a fiery cluster blooms in your core. You push your feet down around his, digging into the cushion of the ottoman. You strain and writhe as your voice breaks through the brittleness of your throat. You twitch as the heat within unfurls into icy tendrils.

He hums as he urges you through but doesn’t let up. He pumps into faster as his fingers keep their tempo. The layers of clothes build a fire between you, raising a sheet of sweat over your skin. He groans as he fucks you from below.

His feet slip from the ottoman as it slides beyond his height. He plants his soles on the floor, rutting up into you as your legs splay wide. Your body bounces helplessly and you cling to the chair and moan, drowning in the shallowness of your breath.

“I can feel how ready you are, sweetheart,” he grits through his teeth. His hand roves up to your chest and he squeezes, your nipple throbbing tenderly. “You’re going to be a good mommy.”

You shudder and gasp, your ribs wracking in dread. He groans and fucks you harder, puffing over your hair.

“Sweetie, are you ready? Tell me you’re ready? You gonna make me a daddy?”

You gulp and cough, head lolling as you cling onto his arm. He hammers into you harder and harder.

“Tell me,” he snarls.

“Y-y-yesssss,” you rasp from your tortured through.

He grunts and spasms, a warmth flooding inside you as his pace turns wild. You close your eyes and they sting with another swell of tears. The painted walls, the glowing the balloons, it’s all so much worse than that black cell.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #one shot #valentines roulette #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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mjolnirswriststrap · 2 months ago

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Dumb Viking Thor

Thor x maid!Reader, Steve x maid!Reader

Summary: Deep grunts filled the bathroom. Cleaning supplies strewn all over the floor. Your life flashed before your eyes when the stall door jerked open, on your knees scrubbing the toilet is how he found you. “Mr. Odinson.” You say, jumping up.

Warnings: PLEASE CONSUME AT YOUR OWN RISK! Explicit ‼️ 18+ Material, Noncon, Rough Sex, Rape themes, Female receiving pen, Anal, subtle cream pie.

Word Count: 2,039 Masterlist

You meticulously mixed chemicals, being sure not to create mustard gas. Your first week working as a cleaner for Stark Industries left you with zero training. The lead janitor was too occupied with her own doings to teach you how to properly clean certain things. It took you double to time to clean the bathrooms, your coworkers knew it, so when you’d disappear for hours, they never questioned it.

You’d been in the men’s bathroom for almost an hour already. The bristles of the brush scrubbed the tile around the toilet, the sound being the only thing heard in the enclosed space. That and your deep breathing, exhaustion filling you after a long day of work, coupled with the ever growing redness on your sore knees. Your shoulders burned from scrubbing, and you were so focused on just finishing so you could clock out; finally go home.

You never heard anyone enter the bathroom, you were too focused. You only noticed you were no longer alone when the door to the stall gets pushed open. You jump up, not out of fear but by being startled. When you eject yourself from your kneeled position, you spin in place, turning to face whoever stumbled upon you. You’re relieved to see Thor Odinson, standing there with a calculating look.

“Mr. Odinson, forgive me, I will be finished in a second.” You say, assuming he wouldn’t want a woman in the men’s restroom while he uses it. Offering a smile out of curtesy, you hold it for a second too long, even after you don’t see any amusement appear on his face. You clear your throat, quickly returning to scrubbing the stall. One hand held the disinfectant while your other held the brush. You tried rushing, feeling his growing presence behind you.

“Just gotta wipe it down now, sir.” You give him reassurance that you’d be gone in a second. But that second never comes. You move to step around him, reaching for your cleaning cart that held the microfiber cleaning cloths. You’re too focused on hurrying and getting out that you don’t take note of how silent the gods being. How observant he is, watching every move you make.

Your hands were full, you couldn’t defend yourself. In an instant they were empty, the brush clattering to the floor. The spray bottle cracking upon impact, bleach spilling all over the floor in a growing puddle. Your hands were now pressed to the mirror of the sink vanity. Your cheek pressed there too, your eyes searched behind you for Thor, seeing the look on his face finally told you what you needed to know. He wasn’t even here, this is primal, instinctual, animalistic.

“Mr. Odinson, you know this isn’t allowed.” You try to calmly remind him. You were no fool, you knew the strength he held, you knew he was a god. You knew your position, you were nobody, a maid at best. You should be thinking of every reason to be grateful for this, instead you’re gasping for air as he presses it out of you, his body weight leaning on your from behind.

Thor doesn’t respond, he knows what he’s doing, whether or not it’s wrong is up for debate. What else was he supposed to do? He saw a woman on her knees and felt like he needed to do something about it. You��re just a maid, no one would even know, he is the god of thunder and a king, any woman is his if he wishes. He couldn’t even recall how many maids and ladies in waiting on Asgard who carried his bastard children.

To Thor, he was doing the right thing. Using the resources provided to him. And how rude would he be if he disregarded Starks resources. That’s why he doesn’t rip your uniform, he pushes it up around your hips, being sure to pull your tights down in one swift movement.

Your hands stayed planted on the mirror you had shined less than an hour ago. You don’t know why, but you knew better than to fight back, you knew better than to move. In any other position maybe you’d be flattered he’d took an interest in you; but this was…less than personal, it was just him getting his rocks off. You don’t doubt if it had been Rose or Serenity; the same sequence of events would’ve occurred.

You hear the sound of leather and metal clasps rustling behind you, and you close your eyes, numbing yourself for what’s about to happen. You thought you could do it, go limp, deaf, blind to what’s happening to you; the second the thick tip of his cock slid past the barrier your thighs created, you were dropping your hands from the mirror, reaching behind you to brace yourself.

You don’t understand that it’s an impossible feat. You could never brace for the searing pain that blossoms between your legs. You couldn’t even breathe, you were dry, but he didn’t seem to care, pushing past that barrier too. You felt your sensitive skin stretch around him, but when the relentlessness of him trying to shove himself to the hilt comes, you feel yourself tearing.

When you feel the tuft of hair at the base of his cock brush against your ass you know he’s bottomed out. You can’t feel it, after the first tear; your lower body clocked out. Only when his big hands wrap around your love handles, you can feel how gentle his hands are. No matter the pain he was inflicting, it was like he knew his hands would break your bones, bruise your skin.

He’s even has the curtesy to let you have some semblance of adjusting to him. You wanna laugh, but you can’t, the timeline of events only happening in less than two minutes. Your brain isn’t processing and comprehending what’s happening. Your brain was turning into complete mush, you were trying to convince yourself of two things; you didn’t want this, and you desperately wanted it. You were confused.

The confusion only intensifying when he leans down and brushed the hair from your shoulder, whispering behind your ear. “Good little maid.”. That shouldn’t have had the effect that it did, but here you were, pushing your body back slightly at the praise. Like you were doing something right by not protesting. You were good for not fighting back. Deserving because of your meekness.

He groaned when he felt you push back against him, knowing it meant you wanted it, even if you didn’t say it. But in the end, he didn’t really care what you thought, you were doing your job. Your duty.

He doesn’t notice the fog on the mirror from your shallow breaths, or the fact that you’re wet has mixed with blood from being torn. He just starts pumping in and out of you at a rhythmic pace. You wish you could feel it, but your body is still fighting to some degree, refusing to let you or him relish in this moment.

His pace picks up, causing you to raise yourself on your tiptoes, giving him as much access as he needs, making it easier for him to slam back into you every time he torturously pulls out to admire how you swallow him, the pink folds wrapping around him perfectly, like a set of lips, sucking him in.

He had been relatively silent, little grunts and that tiny comment of praise earlier, so it shocks you when he lets out a high pitched whine. “Fuck, stay just like that.” He exclaims, feeling the building tension in his balls come to an eruption. He mercilessly claps his stomach into your ass cheeks, the slapping sound echoing off the walls, and that’s it for you, finally giving up whatever you were holding onto.

Your pussy gushes over him, and you let out a strangled wail, “Please.” You beg, you knew your hole was obliterated, ruined, stretched and full, the only thing that could benefit you now was if you got to cum too. You heard him chuckle behind you. Actually laugh at your plea. As if you had no room to even speak and this was all his doing, for his pleasure.

Tears finally fill your eyes, but not for your situation, it’s over cumming. Your desperation becoming too much, you start rocking on your tiptoes, finding a friction that pleasured you so you could make yourself cum. Thor doesn’t seem to mind, glad you’re finally participating. He’s too close to care truly, the new found tightness of your walls desperately clenching down on him, was rushing him towards his undoing.

You’re no where near close when you hear the bathroom door swing open, cutting through the thick air and letting a cold wind sweep through the tiled room, the tears and sweat on your face drying instantly. You can’t even look who it is, the shame of being caught not finding you.

Thor of course carries no shame for what he’s doing, he does register the person, and their bewildered look, laughing again but not stopping his movement. “What the fuck are you doing?” You hear an angry Brooklyn accent. Your vision wasn’t completely there as you roll your head to face the door, your eyes finding Steve Rogers standing there, his shoulders rising and falling as his breath picks up.

You could just make out the confusion, the disgust, the shame on the Captains face as he looks at the cleaning supplies strewn around the floor, lifting his boot to see that he’d stepped in the spilled bleach. He places it back down and lets out a scoff or a huff, you were too delirious to tell.

“I am taking advantage of what’s been provided. You’re the one being disrespectful.” Thor says with no humor in his voice. He had slowed his movement, standing behind you pressed fully into you. With the captains invasion, your senses are slowly coming back, the feeling returning to your lower body. A burning sensation is slowly building, the tiny rips in your skin drawing attention from your pain receptors.

“Please…” You mutter again, but for a different reason, it was for mercy, mercy that maybe you’d be saved from this by Steve. But as your eyes watch his hand find the door handle, pushing it closed behind him, any ounce of hope you had in Steve was gone. He was slowly turning into that silent shark Thor was when he found you cleaning.

“Move.” Is the only command you hear from Steve before Thors slipping out of you. You could’ve crumbled to the floor the second he released you, but a new set on hands found your hips, raising you back up on your tiptoes. “Shhh, you’re doing such a good job.” Steve praises and you can’t comprehend what he’s doing till he’s pushing into your other hole, filling your ass up. He was much smaller than the inhuman god, but it didn’t take away from the soul wrenching feeling of him ass fucking you.

You were screaming, the pain Steve was inflicting completely different than what Thor had done. He didn’t take long to spill inside of you, if you weren’t in such a vulnerable position, you could’ve laughed at him for how short he lasted, you expected more from him. But he’s probably never done anything like this before, the taboo of it causing him to lose control, the explosion coming from how dirty it made him feel.

When he slid out of you with a grotesque wet sound you almost let out a sigh of relief. Your body meeting the sink as he lets your hips down. The almost sigh is caught in your throat when you hear him say the words “Now you can finish.” to Thor. He buckles up his jeans and leaves the bathroom, not coming to your rescue at all, he didn’t even give you a second glance. You can only hear Thor’s amused hum as he comes back behind you, not relenting on you. If only you cleaned faster, then maybe Rose or Serenity would’ve noticed how long you’ve been cleaning the men’s restroom, maybe they would’ve come to your aid.

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writerslittlelibrary · 8 months ago

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"Children aren't payment, dipshit"

masterlist

summary: the most feared mob in all of New York only has one rival, which happens to be your father’s mob. When it turns out he is indebted to the feared mob boss Natasha Romanoff, he uses the only thing he has to pay her, you…

pairing: Mob!Natasha x rival mob young reader

warnings: guns, violence, basic mob fic stuff ig :)

genre: angst, fluff

words: 1339

a/n: this was an adorable idea! (I feel like this is trash, but I just have to get back into my writing flow)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

It has always been difficult, being the daughter of a dangerous mob boss. It wasn’t like you were forced to kill and train with your father’s minions, but you had been living a far from normal life, to say the least.

When you turned seven, your father had called you into his office.

You had always been a nice and obedient girl, totally opposite of your father, so when he called you to him and told you you were going to stay with your aunties for a while, you believed it. Your father had sent you and your bodyguard to your room, telling you to pack all your important items.

Once you had finished packing, your father had given you a hug and you had been brought to the car, your bodyguard driving you across town.

However, once the car stopped at a large apartment building, you had started getting a bit suspicious. This isn’t where your aunties lived…

Your bodyguard had taken you out of the car, but you didn’t want to, leading to him dragging you out, dragging you up to the doors of the building. Once you had arrived at the doors, two women were standing there. One had blonde hair, and the other had black hair. The women with black hair grabbed your arm, allowing your bodyguards to walk back to the car and retrieve your bag, handing it to the blonde women.

After he did so, he walked back to the car and drove away.

The two women entered the building, walking to the elevator and pressing the button that read ‘PH’. As soon as the doors closed, the women with black hair let go of your arm. However, despite her removing her grip, you still didn’t feel like you could move freely. You were fairly certain that one wrong move and she would be on you again.

And so, you stood perfectly still, refusing to move, even when the elevator moved a bit.

The two women barely acknowledged your presence, instead opting to look straight ahead. You felt uneasy standing in between them.

Once the elevator stopped at the top floor, the door opened at the women with black hair grabbed your arm again, leading you out of the elevator and to a dark wooden door. The blonde haired women walked ahead, knocking on the door twice before waiting for a “come in” to be called from the other side.

Once the approval was given, the two women walked in, dragging you after them.

Inside the room was another woman. You recognised her immediately. Who wouldn’t? Your father had always warned you about her. She was the most feared mob boss that New York, or the world really, had ever seen.

You were in the office of Natasha fucking Romanoff. Were you about to get killed?

The two women walked a bit further into the room, forcefully pushing you down on the chair in front of the desk.

You didn’t dare protest, nor did you say a word. You were absolutely terrified. Your father had warned you about this women every single day of your life, refusing to let you go outside without protection because of her, and now he had knowingly sent you to her. What the hell was wrong with him?

After you were sat down on the chair, the women with black hair exited the room again, leaving you, Natasha Romanoff, and the blonde haired women in the room.

“Thank you for bringing her up Carol, you can put her bag in her room,” Natasha spoke, dismissing ‘Carol’ before focusing her attention on you.

Carol left the room, leaving you and Natasha Romanoff alone.

“I’m sure you must be very confused, sweetheart, but don’t worry, you’ll be alright,” Natasha reassured, smiling kindly as she stacked a few papers and put them off to the side.

You took a moment, gathering the courage before you spoke.

“Why am I here…?” you asked quietly, hoping not to disturb Natasha or step out of line.

Natasha smiled, turning to you once more.

“Your father made some pretty nasty deals. Deals that he couldn’t follow through on. He needed to pay me something, and he didn’t have the money, so I demanded you instead,” Natasha explained, leaving you to look at her with a shocked face.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, sweet girl. I promise you were are much better company than your father’s mob ever was,” Natasha stated, smiling sweetly before she moved to get up, walking around the desk towards you.

She extended her hand, motioning for you to grab it.

“How about we go check out your new room?” she suggested, allowing you a moment to think before you nodded and hesitantly grabbed her hand, allowing her to pull you up.

She led you out of the office, leading you through the pent house towards another door, which was a different colour than the rest of the doors. The door was a beautiful dark shade of your favourite colour, and while you thought your favourite colour would never go with the aesthetic of the apartment, for some reason Natasha made it work.

She pushed the door open, allowing you to step inside and take in the room. It was beautifully decorated and exactly your style.

Your eyes widened in excitement, jumping up slightly. You weren’t able to contain your excitement as you saw the room. It was perfect.

Natasha smiled as she observed your reaction, letting go of your hand to allow you to look around. You did, running from place to place to explore all the play items placed in the cupboards, ending your little exploration by jumping on the bed.

“I love it!” you yelled out, letting yourself drop on the bed.

-------------------------------------------------------------

You had lived with Natasha for about three months now, and you were happier than you had ever been. Natasha never hit you if you did something wrong, and she played with you everyday. She was willing to drop all her work if you asked her to play dress up, or if you asked her to play with your dolls.

You had never been more loved than you were now, and you were happy your father had offered you as payment to Natasha Romanoff.

Her henge people also adored you. You would play with them as well, and everytime they happily played with you. Your favourite were Carol and Valkyrie. They were the two women that had brought you in on the first day, and they turned out to be your best friends.

Little did you know that Natasha had known you father hit you at home. She knew the mob boss of the rival mob was not just any criminal. He didn’t have morals, or principles. He did what he did when he felt like it. He wasn’t a good person to those he cared about, so when Natasha found out he had a daughter, she knew she needed to investigate.

She had sent a hengemen uncover to find out more about you, and what was reported back to her shocked her.

You were hit whenever you stepped out of line, and you were not well taken care of at all. Once Natasha learned about your situation, she decided she had to get you out, setting up an elaborate deal she knew your father couldn’t get out of.

When you father unsurprisingly failed to follow through on his end of the deal, he was in large debt with Natasha, and she knew she could demand anything from him.

And so, she demanded she would get you as payment, knowing your father couldn’t do anything but follow through.

Over the months she had build a soft spot for you, and she was more than glad that she had done what she did. She saved you, and now you were happy.

Natasha Romanoff may not have been the best human being on the planet, but to those she cared about, she could not have been better.

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @daddipantherr @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @hor1zond1ar1es @lorsstar1st @superlegend216 @ravensinthedaylight

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mintyys-blog · 2 months ago

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BRAT TAMER— dark! bucky barnes x brat! stark! reader

WARNINGS: alcohol, suggestive scenes, age gap, power imbalance, brat behaviour, dark themes, tramp stamp, harassment, swearing, SMUT.

MINORS DNI

You knew exactly what you were doing.

The moment you stepped into the Avengers Tower, heels clicking against the pristine marble floors, every pair of eyes flicked to you. Not that you cared. In fact, you reveled in it. The attention. The annoyance. The way your father, Tony Stark, ran a hand down his face the second he saw your outfit—if it could even be called that.

A tiny crop top, barely-there shorts, and heels that made your legs look like they went on forever.

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered under his breath.

You smirked, flicking your hair over your shoulder as you waltzed past him like you owned the place. “Daddy, that’s not a very warm welcome,” you pouted. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Tony exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “Do you ever dress appropriately? Just once?”

You scoffed. “What’s the fun in that?”

Truthfully, you liked pushing his buttons. You’d been doing it for years, and it never got old. Tony Stark, billionaire genius, could handle aliens, mad scientists, and world-ending threats—but his own daughter? A nightmare in designer heels.

“Where’s Morgan?” you asked, though you didn’t really care.

“In her room. And don’t—”

Too late. You were already walking in that direction.

Tony sighed, shooting a look at Steve and Bucky, who had been watching the interaction silently. “I don’t know what to do with her.”

Bucky’s stare lingered as you disappeared down the hallway. You had that effect on people—especially men. And you knew it.

Morgan adored you.

Which was the problem.

She was ten, all wide eyes and admiration, soaking up every little thing you did like a sponge. And Tony? He hated it.

You sat on her bed, lazily scrolling through your phone as she rattled on about school, her friends, some dumb science project Tony was helping her with. You weren’t really listening.

“Can I do my hair like yours?” Morgan asked suddenly, eyes shining with hope.

You smirked. “You wanna be like me, huh?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

Tony’s voice cut through the room like a blade. “No, she doesn’t.”

You looked up to find him standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “Morgan, go get ready for dinner,” he said firmly.

Morgan hesitated, looking between the two of you before reluctantly nodding and slipping out of the room.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s the influence you don’t want?”

Tony stepped inside, lowering his voice. “I mean it, Y/N. She looks up to you. I won’t let you screw her up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Relax, Dad. I’m not telling her to go rob a bank.”

“No, but you are showing up dressed like that,” he shot back. “Parading around like you have no responsibilities, blowing through money like it’s endless—”

“Isn’t it?” you cut in, smirking.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, kid. I don’t know what to do with you.”

“Nothing,” you said simply, standing up and stretching, the hem of your top riding up just to be provocative. “Because I don’t live under your roof anymore, remember?”

You walked past him, brushing against his shoulder as you left.

And just like that, you were gone.

Later that night, Bucky found you at the bar.

You were perched on a stool, sipping a martini, legs crossed, eyes scanning the room like a predator looking for prey.

He slid onto the stool beside you, silent at first. You noticed him, of course. How could you not? He was hard to ignore—tall, broad, that metal arm glinting under the dim lights.

“Well, well,” you mused, tilting your head. “Didn’t take you for a bar kind of guy.”

Bucky shrugged, eyes flickering over your outfit. “Didn’t take you for the kind of girl who needs attention to survive.”

You grinned. “Oh, but I do. What’s life without a little fun?”

“Fun,” Bucky repeated, tone unreadable. “That what you’re looking for?”

You leaned in slightly, resting your elbow on the bar, chin propped in your hand. “Depends. You offering?”

His jaw tensed. You were pushing. Flirting. Teasing. And you knew it was working.

“You think this is a game?” he asked, voice low.

You smirked. “Isn’t it?”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Careful, sweetheart.”

You arched a brow. “Or what?”

He didn’t answer. Just took a sip of his drink, eyes lingering on you.

Breaking the Brat

Part Two

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Stark!Brat!Reader

Warnings: Dark themes, age gap, manipulation, power imbalance, bratty behavior, suggestive themes. Slow burn.

Bucky didn’t play your game.

That was the first thing that set him apart from the others.

Most men—especially the older ones—were predictable. Easy to manipulate. A bat of your lashes, a sultry smile, a teasing touch, and they’d trip over themselves to get what you wanted.

But Bucky? He saw right through it.

And that? That made you want to play even more.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” You leaned in, close enough that your perfume lingered between you. “That’s okay. I like a challenge.”

Bucky glanced at you, unimpressed. “You really think you’re a challenge?”

You pouted. “Aw, that’s cute. You think I’m easy?”

He huffed out a quiet laugh. “I think you’re loud. And desperate for attention.”

Your smirk didn’t falter. “And yet, here you are, giving it to me.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He just took another sip of his drink, jaw tight.

That’s what intrigued you the most.

He wanted to say something. Wanted to snap, to put you in your place. You could see it in his eyes. The restraint. The discipline. It was a game of tug-of-war, and you were determined to win.

“So, tell me,” you mused, twirling the olive in your martini between your fingers. “What does a guy like you do for fun?”

Bucky didn’t blink. “Nothing you’d survive.”

A thrill shot through you.

“You don’t know what I can handle,” you said, licking the martini off your lips.

His gaze flickered there, just for a second. A small victory.

Then, he downed the rest of his drink and stood.

“Go home, kid.”

Kid.

The word sent a rush of irritation through you.

You weren’t a kid. You were a woman. A woman who could make grown men fall at her feet. A woman who could ruin a man if she wanted to.

And yet, Bucky Barnes just brushed you off like an inconvenience.

How dare he?

You watched him walk away, the muscles in his back flexing under his shirt. He didn’t turn around. Didn’t give you the satisfaction.

For the first time in a long time, you felt something foreign settle in your chest.

Frustration.

The next few weeks were fun.

For you, anyway.

You pushed. Bucky ignored. You flirted. He scoffed. You touched, teased, invaded his space—nothing.

He was a wall. Unshakable. Unmoved.

It only made you worse.

You made sure to wear the shortest skirts when you knew he was around. The highest heels. The tightest tops. You batted your lashes, brushed your fingers against his arm, pressed close to whisper things that weren’t exactly appropriate.

Still, nothing.

But you weren’t an amateur at this game.

Men had limits. And you were going to find his.

Tony had given up on you. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

“Y/N, I swear to God,” he groaned, rubbing his temples as you scrolled through your phone.

“What now?” You didn’t bother looking up.

“You know exactly what. Do I need to spell it out? The credit card charges. The tabloids. The—” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “The fucking tramp stamp!”

You smirked, tilting your head. “You like it?”

Tony clenched his jaw. “You got it two hours after I told you not to.”

“Your point?”

He muttered something under his breath before shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do with you, kid.”

Your smirk faltered. There it was again. Kid. First Bucky, now Tony. You weren’t a child.

And you were going to prove it.

That night, you went too far.

And that’s exactly what you wanted.

The compound was quiet. Late. Most of the team had turned in for the night, but you knew Bucky was still awake.

You found him in the gym. Alone.

He was mid-rep, lifting weights that made your arms ache just looking at them.

You leaned against the doorway, watching, a slow smirk tugging at your lips.

“Wow,” you drawled. “Those arms could do some damage.”

Bucky didn’t stop. Didn’t acknowledge you.

You stepped inside, the sound of your heels clicking against the floor.

Nothing.

You let out a dramatic sigh, strutting over to where he stood. “Ignoring me again? Starting to think you don’t like me, Barnes.”

He finished his set, setting the weights down with a quiet thud.

Still, he didn’t look at you.

You stepped closer, trailing a manicured nail down his metal arm. “I bet you could wrap this around my throat and snap it like a twig.”

That got him. Bucky’s head snapped toward you, eyes dark.

Oh, that was satisfying.

“You wanna test that theory?” His voice was low. Dangerous. A shiver ran through you. You weren’t stupid. You knew when you were poking a bear. But that was half the fun.

“I dunno,” you mused, pressing closer. “Might be fun.”

Bucky exhaled slowly. You could practically see him forcing himself to relax.

Then, he turned and walked away. Just like that. No reaction. No anger. No fire.

It was… disappointing. Until he spoke.

“You should be careful, Y/N.” You frowned. “Of what?”

Bucky stopped at the door, back still to you. “Of what happens when I finally stop holding back.” Then, he was gone.

You stood there for a long moment, staring after him. And for the first time, your smirk faded. Because for the first time, you wondered… Had you finally pushed too far?

It had been a week since Bucky’s warning. A week of silence.

You were used to attention—hell, you craved it—but this was different. The absence of Bucky’s usual snarky responses, his cold stares, his barely-contained tension—it was unsettling. You found yourself looking for him more than you cared to admit. You’d cornered Tony about it. “Where’s Bucky? He’s been MIA.”

Tony didn’t even look up from his work. “I don’t know. Probably avoiding you.”

“Really?” you asked, leaning against the counter. “You think so?”

Tony finally glanced up, his eyes tired but sharp. “Look, kid. I get it. He’s a good guy, but I’m not letting you run around playing your little games with him. Bucky’s not your usual prey.”

You scowled, crossing your arms. “I’m not a damn animal, Dad.” Tony didn’t flinch. “You sure about that?”

Two nights later, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

The Tower was dark, quiet—everyone else was either gone or asleep. You knew Bucky would be up, alone, in the gym. He was predictable like that.

You stood in front of your mirror, inspecting yourself.

A tight black leather jacket, a low-cut tank top that barely covered your chest, and black ripped jeans. Nothing too out there, but enough to make a statement.

Perfect.

You made your way down the long hallway, heels tapping softly on the floors, feeling the familiar rush of power as you approached the gym.

And there he was.

Bucky was lifting weights, his movements precise and fluid, his concentration unwavering. He hadn’t noticed you yet, so you took the chance to observe.

He was different tonight. His body was tense, his jaw set as he worked through each set like a machine. But it was more than that. There was something in his eyes—something predatory.

And it made you want to push him.

You sauntered into the room, your presence noticeable, but Bucky didn’t look up. He kept going, each lift smoother than the last, each breath steady and controlled.

It was like you weren’t even there.

You didn’t like that.

“Why so serious?” you purred, stepping closer, your voice dripping with a flirtation you didn’t bother to hide.

Bucky paused for a moment, finally glancing at you. But he didn’t respond.

You took it as a challenge.

“You know,” you continued, sliding your hands down your sides provocatively, “if you need some motivation, I could give you a reason to work a little harder.”

Bucky didn’t move. He just stared at you, his gaze unreadable.

“Come on, Barnes,” you cooed, moving closer, your breath warm against the cool air of the gym. “What’s it going to take to get a rise out of you?”

This time, he spoke. His voice was low and measured, like a warning. “You’re treading on thin ice, Y/N.”

You smirked. “I like the danger.”

Bucky finally set the weights down, his movements slow but purposeful. He stepped toward you, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite place—anger? Frustration? Or something more?

“Last warning, kid,” he muttered, grabbing your wrist before you could react, his grip firm but controlled.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned in closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “What are you going to do if I don’t listen, huh? Hit me?”

He didn’t answer right away. His breathing was steady, but you could feel the tension in his body. It was palpable, like a string pulled tight, waiting to snap.

“I warned you,” Bucky growled, voice gravelly.

Before you could respond, he spun you around, pinning you against the wall with a force that made your breath catch.

And there it was—the raw, unfiltered power.

You knew you were pushing him, but this time, you didn’t care.

“You’re playing with fire, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft, but laced with a dangerous edge. “And I don’t think you fully understand the consequences.”

You couldn’t help yourself. “Try me.”

Bucky leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You won’t like the outcome.”

But you weren’t listening. You never were.

You let your fingers trail down his chest, teasing the edges of his shirt, pressing yourself closer to him. “You can’t tell me what to do,” you said softly, letting the challenge hang between you like a spark waiting to ignite.

His hand tightened on your wrist, pulling you away from the wall and turning you to face him fully. His blue eyes were dark, unreadable, like an ocean storm waiting to break.

“You think I’m just going to let you walk all over me?” His voice dropped an octave, as if he were tasting every word. “That’s where you’re wrong, Y/N.”

You swallowed, feeling the heat rising between you, the crackling tension unmistakable. For the first time, you saw something in his eyes that made your heart skip—a flicker of something dangerous. And it made you want more.

“You think you can handle me?” you whispered, your lips inches from his. Without warning, Bucky kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was fierce—passionate, like he was claiming what was his. And you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, but the fire in his gaze only intensified. “You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he warned, his voice dark with intent.

You stared at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I do.”

Bucky’s lips twitched. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart. And when you get burned, don’t come crying to me.” You shrugged, unfazed. “I’ll take my chances.”

The next morning, you barely slept.

Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Bucky’s cold, intense stare—the way his hand had felt on your wrist, the heat of his lips against yours.

It wasn’t the first time you’d kissed someone with that much force, but it was the first time you felt… controlled.

And you hated it.

You didn’t like being controlled. You liked to be in charge. Always.

So why did the feeling linger? Why did the thought of Bucky’s hands on you—firm, unrelenting—cause a flutter in your chest?

You shook the thought away, brushing your hair back as you stood in front of the mirror. It was just a kiss. Just a moment. You didn’t need to make it anything more.

You picked out an outfit: a tight red dress with a plunging neckline, heels high enough to make your legs look longer than they were. You liked the way the dress clung to your curves, the way it accentuated everything Bucky had noticed last night.

This was a power play. A challenge. And Bucky? He was your target. You stormed out of your room, determined to confront him.

The gym was quiet again when you entered, the hum of the equipment filling the silence. You saw Bucky, of course. He was always here, always training, always keeping to himself. But today, he didn’t look at you when you walked in.

Not at first.

You could feel the tension radiating off him, though. He could feel you, even without looking. The game hadn’t ended last night—it had only just begun.

You walked toward him, a calculated sway in your hips. You made sure to stop just behind him, letting the scent of your perfume reach his nose, just close enough that he couldn’t ignore your presence any longer.

“Morning, Bucky,” you said, leaning over slightly, letting the fabric of your dress stretch just enough to make him notice.

He stopped mid-set, his fingers wrapping around the barbell before he set it down. Slowly, deliberately, he turned to face you. His gaze was icy, but there was something more there now—a flicker of something darker. Something that told you he wasn’t as indifferent as he wanted to be.

“What do you want?” His voice was low, but there was an edge to it.

You grinned, stepping closer. “I thought we could talk.”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

You smirked, leaning in a little closer, lowering your voice to a whisper. “About last night.”

His jaw clenched. “I told you, Y/N—”

“You told me a lot of things.” You interrupted, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. “But you didn’t tell me you’d be so rough. So… possessive.”

He grabbed your wrist before you could pull away, his grip firm but not painful. “You’re pushing it,” he warned, his tone deadly serious now.

“Am I?” You tilted your head, pretending to be innocent, but you saw the way his eyes flashed, the tension in his body that told you he was on the edge. “I think you like it, Bucky. I think you like the challenge.”

Bucky took a deep breath, his hold on your wrist tightening slightly. He didn’t let go, not yet. “Don’t make me do something you’ll regret.”

A small laugh escaped your lips. “Oh, Bucky,” you teased, tracing your fingers down his chest slowly, “I don’t think I’m going to regret anything.”

This time, when you looked up at him, there was no teasing in your gaze. There was only a challenge. A dare.

Bucky looked at you for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with each breath, like he was trying to calm himself. Then, slowly, he released your wrist.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he muttered. “And I don’t think you realize just how dangerous it is.”

You stepped back, keeping your eyes on him. “I can handle danger.”

Bucky stared at you, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—something dark, something possessive, something that made your heart race.

But then it was gone, replaced by the cold mask he usually wore.

“Keep pushing, Y/N,” he said, his voice low, his tone deadly serious. “And I’ll make sure you regret it.”

You smiled sweetly, tilting your head. “I’m counting on it.”

The next few days were a blur.

Bucky was everywhere you went. He was there when you went to the gym, there when you walked past the training room, there when you entered the kitchen. He wasn’t exactly following you, but he was always within your sight. Always within your reach.

And it drove you crazy.

You didn’t get what it was. You didn’t get why he was always near, always present. He wasn’t ignoring you anymore, but he wasn’t giving you the satisfaction either. He was… patient.

And that was something you weren’t used to.

You tried everything. You wore the sexiest outfits. You made flirtatious comments. You pushed every button you knew would make him snap.

But Bucky just watched you. Always watchful. Always calm.

The lack of reaction was maddening.

But it was that last night—when you were so tired of being ignored—that you decided to confront him. You were done waiting.

The Tower was empty again, except for you and Bucky. You knew he’d be in the gym again—he always was.

When you walked in, you didn’t say a word. You just walked up to him, grabbed his collar, and kissed him.

It was desperate. It was messy.

It was exactly what you wanted.

Bucky froze for a moment, not expecting it, but when he didn’t pull away, when he kissed you back with an intensity that sent shockwaves through your body, you realized—maybe this time, you weren’t the one in control.

Bucky’s hands gripped your arms, but he didn’t pull you away. Instead, he deepened the kiss, his lips moving with more force than you were used to, his hands now roaming, pulling you closer.

When he pulled away, his eyes were dark, and his voice was low, husky. “I warned you, Y/N.”

You smirked, feeling a rush of power. “Yeah, well, I don’t listen.”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile, but there was no humor in it. “You will. Eventually.”

Breaking the Brat

Part Six

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Stark!Brat!Reader

Warnings: Dark themes, age gap, manipulation, power imbalance, bratty behavior, suggestive themes. Slow burn.

The days following that night felt like a tightrope walk—one wrong move, and you would fall. But there was something intoxicating about it. Bucky had made it clear he was done tolerating your behavior, but the power dynamic between you both had shifted. There was no going back, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to.

Bucky didn’t let things slide, though. You could feel his presence everywhere you went, like a constant reminder of your recklessness. His eyes followed you. The way he looked at you, all sharp edges and unspoken threats, had you on edge in ways you never imagined.

The next time you saw him, you weren’t sure how things would play out. It was a casual party at Tony’s mansion, the kind of event that usually left you feeling invincible. But tonight, something was different. Bucky had been quieter than usual, lurking in the background, watching you as you flitted from one person to another. You could feel his gaze, like a weight on your back. But you weren’t going to let it bother you. You were untouchable, weren’t you?

The music was loud, the room filled with the usual mix of celebrities, billionaires, and socialites. You could already feel your heels digging into the floor as you made your way to the bar, a playful smirk on your lips. You weren’t about to let Bucky’s behavior dictate how you had fun.

But, of course, Bucky was there. Watching. Always watching.

You noticed him in the corner, his posture stiff, his jaw clenched. He was talking to Steve, but his eyes never left you. Every move you made, every glance you cast, every word you said, seemed to send a ripple through him. It was driving you crazy, the way he had this hold on you. You could feel the tension between you both, building like a slow burn.

And then, just like before, you saw him. The older man, tall, graying hair, expensive suit. He was alone at the bar. Perfect.

You walked over, letting the sway of your hips catch his attention. He looked up, eyes widening as they took you in.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his voice smooth, a hint of admiration behind it.

You leaned against the bar, giving him a sly smile. “Just looking for someone to have some fun with. You seem like you might be a good candidate.”

He chuckled, his fingers brushing the rim of his glass as he studied you. “I think I could be persuaded.”

The instant his hand landed on your waist, you knew you had him. He was eating out of your palm, just like you wanted. But then you caught Bucky’s stare from across the room. He was rigid now, his eyes narrowed, his face tense with something that could have been fury—or something worse.

You felt a thrill rush through you.

You led the older man to the couch in the corner, barely glancing back at Bucky. You wanted him to feel it. The jealousy, the frustration, the helplessness. You wanted him to see you as something untouchable, something out of his control.

But before the man could do anything more than adjust his tie, Bucky appeared in front of you, his cold gaze fixed on the older man for a split second before he turned back to you. His voice was sharp, barely contained. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

You looked up at him, your lips curling into an innocent smile, though you could tell from the vein popping in his neck that he wasn’t playing anymore. “I’m not done here yet,” you said, but there was no mistaking the challenge in your tone.

Bucky’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist with enough force to make you gasp. “You don’t get to make that decision.” He jerked you to your feet, dragging you past the man who was still trying to process the sudden intervention.

“Bucky—”

“You think you can flirt your way into whatever you want, don’t you?” His voice was low, each word like a warning. “You think this game is funny, but you’re out of your depth.”

You pulled your wrist from his grip, but the way he was looking at you made you feel cornered, trapped in a way that only fueled your defiance. “Maybe I just like making you mad,” you shot back, not even trying to hide the challenge in your voice.

“Is that it? You get off on making me angry?” His eyes darkened, the tension between you both thickening with each passing second.

You tilted your head, the playful edge in your voice never wavering. “Maybe I do.”

For a brief moment, the two of you just stood there, the silence crackling like a live wire. You could feel the pulse in your throat, the heat building between you both, thick and heavy. But just as quickly, Bucky’s expression shifted.

He grabbed your arm again, this time not in anger, but with a calculated force. He was done with the game.

Without a word, he dragged you to a private room, locking the door behind you. The silence inside felt suffocating, and you could feel the weight of his presence, pressing in on all sides.

“What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was harsh, the words coming out through gritted teeth. You leaned against the wall, your arms crossed, still maintaining your playful attitude.

“What? He was just a little older than usual. What’s the harm in flirting with someone who can buy me anything I want?” Bucky’s eyes burned with frustration as he took a step closer, crowding you against the wall.

“The harm is that you’re reckless. That man was old enough to be your father. What the hell are you trying to prove?” You could feel the heat radiating off of him, the tension between you both crackling like electricity. But you weren’t scared—not even a little.

“Are you mad that I wasn’t flirting with you?” You raised an eyebrow, feeling the rush of satisfaction return. You took a step forward, closing the distance between you, and kissed his jaw softly, just enough to leave your lips tingling with the sensation of his skin. Bucky stiffened at the contact, his expression flickering for a moment before his jaw clenched.

“This isn’t a game, Y/N,” he growled. “You think you can toy with me like that? I don’t give a damn about who you’re flirting with, but don��t be reckless.” You smirked, stepping back slightly, letting your fingers trace the collar of his shirt. “So what, you’re going to punish me for having a little fun? You don’t get to control me, Bucky.”

You were too close to him now, too close to that dangerous edge. The way he was looking at you… it was like a warning. You could feel the tension in his body, in the way his hands gripped your wrists like he was trying to anchor himself.

“You’ve made your point, Y/N,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “But you’re not going to keep doing this. Not while I’m around.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall with that same cocky smirk. “And what exactly are you going to do about it?”

Bucky stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You have no idea what you’re messing with.” His voice was tight, every word soaked with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “You think you can keep pushing me? Keep playing games with me? I’m not like the other men you’ve been with.”

You laughed, though there was a nervous tremor behind it. “Oh, I know. You’re different. You’re better.”

His lips curled into a dark smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Better doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate you for much longer.”

And in that moment, something inside you snapped. You pushed off the wall, your hand reaching out to tug at his shirt. “Then make me stop, Bucky,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat.

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate. Then, with a low growl, his lips crashed against yours. It was harsh, unrelenting. His grip on your arms was firm, his body pressing you against the wall as if he were determined to break you.

And, in a way, he was.

Bucky’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened. His metal fingers brushed your jaw, cold against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the fire burning between you. His touch wasn’t soft—it was controlling, deliberate.

You should have been scared.

You weren’t.

Instead, you smirked up at him, eyes glittering with mischief, waiting to see how far you could push him. “You gonna lecture me all night, old man, or are you just mad I got someone else’s attention?”

Bucky’s jaw ticked. His thumb traced your lower lip again, slower this time, like he was testing something—testing you. “That what you wanted? To make me jealous?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, even as your pulse betrayed you, hammering against your ribs. “Seemed like it worked.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. His grip on your chin suddenly dropped, only for his hands to find your hips instead. Without warning, he spun you around, pressing your front against the wall. The cold surface met your palms, your breath hitching as he leaned in close, his chest flush against your back.

“You have no idea what you’re playing with, princess,” he murmured against your ear, his voice dangerously low. “You think this is a game? Flirting with men like that, just to get a rise out of me?”

You swallowed hard, though you kept up the act, arching your back slightly, pressing yourself against him just to see how far you could push him. “You make it too easy, Sarge.”

Bucky let out a dark chuckle, but there was no humor in it. His metal hand gripped your waist, fingers pressing into your skin like he was reminding you of the difference between the two of you. “You think you’re untouchable ‘cause you’re a Stark? That daddy’s money keeps you safe?”

You turned your head slightly, your cheek brushing the wall, a defiant glint in your eyes. “So what? You gonna teach me a lesson?”

Bucky’s hand slid lower, gripping your thigh just beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers squeezed, just enough to make your breath catch. “Someone has to,” he muttered, his breath hot against your ear.

The tension crackled between you like a live wire, thick with something neither of you wanted to name. His fingers flexed against your skin, as if he was holding himself back, teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

Then, just as suddenly as he had pressed you against the wall, he pulled back.

You spun around, eyes blazing, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “That’s it?” you taunted, tilting your head. “All that talk, and you’re just gonna walk away?”

Bucky stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice quieter than before, but twice as dangerous, he said, “who said I was walking away?” The door clicked, signalling it being locked. His dark eyes found yours once more, he closed the space between you both.

His hands were gripping your body, and you pressed your chest into his. Your tongues intertwined and grinding your body against his. Your arms wrapped around his neck, he picks you up and sets you on the table, hiking up your dress to your waist. He pauses, “no panties? Naughty girl..” you squeaked when his cold metal fingers dipped inside your warm wet walls.

You gasped his name, as he pumped his fingers continuously. He added another finger, you whined at the stretch “Buck— its s’much”

“Shut up and take it, you were so desperate before now you crumble at my fingers?” He asked mockingly. He sucked on your neck, he didn’t care for being gentle, you didn’t deserve it— and you didn’t want it. You like the roughness, the control he had over you. You squeezed down on his fingers, your body twitching. “You gonna cum doll?” You moaned, “yes”

Right when you were about to he pulled out, staring down at you with a cold look. “Bad girls don’t get to cum. If you want to— beg me.”

Your eyes widened, really? He was making you bed for it? As if!

He resumed pumping his fingers, his other hand wrapped around your throat tightly— not enough to block air restriction. You would feel the knot in your stomach tighten, and right when you were about to cum again— he pulled out. You whined, “bucky..!”

“Beg or you don’t get to cum.”

You glared, not believing him. Until he did it again, and again. He was edging you and you were about to lose your mind. “Please.. bucky”

“Please what,doll?” He smirked, “please let me cum!” Satisfied, he thrust his fingers in once more, finally bringing you to an orgasm. You screamed his name, luckily the loud music outside prevented it from being heard from the party. “Good girl..” he kissed your head as you panted.

Then he flipped you over, pressing your head into the table. “Bucky!” You gasped. He slapped your ass, watching as it ripples. He gently touches the spot that he hit, it slowly turning a red colour. “I know you like that so don’t even try to hide it, doll” you whined once more, and without warning, he thrust inside.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth parts to scream his name. He fucks you senseless, listening as you get cock drunk— to stupid and fucked out to comprehend his words. Degrading you and he occasionally smacked your ass, his hips roughly snapping into yours. He gripped your hair, pulling your head back and pressing your back to his chest. He grabs your head and turns it to face him, kissing your mouth.

You feel yourself slipping, on the verge of climaxing again. “You look so pretty like this, doll” your makeup was smeared, cry’s watery and a bit of droll leaking from your mouth. You cum at his words. He continues thrusting, dropping your hair, and letting you fall on your stomach on the table once more. He threw his own head back, his cock twitching inside you before he came.

Ropes and ropes of cum, he pulled out with a pant, watching as your pussy was clenching around nothing, leaking of a mixture of both of your cums.

He smirks at his work, touching your ass before zipping up his pants. Whispering, “you’re mine, doll” before leaving.

You were breathless, and feel to your knees. You legs couldn’t stand— not without shaking. Still, you felt a sense of achievement.

This was far from over

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