#dark bucky angst

[darkdemeter]

・issue #--・ 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍, 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄

⚤ Dark Pirate!Bucky Barnes x Siren!Female Reader Pirate Bucky — semi dark Bucky — submissive/soft captive reader — possessive Bucky — SMUT 18+, Minors DNI! — P in V sex — memory loss/wiping via magic (reader affected) — light use of physical and sexual acts to avoid conflict — indirect breeding kink? — pet names — brief consumption of alcohol — I think that's it? ✎ 4.1k He is your captain. There is no place you'd rather be than by his side, nothing you could ever want for that is not him. You owe everything, your entire self, to him. Yet overboard and on the tide you sail across, in search for a great and ancient treasure, a song continues to seep through the cracks of your heart and soul… a song so familiar yet unknown. Forgotten. Bucky reminds you yet again that there is no place else for you that isn't beside him, that there is nothing out there.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

  There lays a song forgotten in your heart and soul, distantly faint as the receding tide to the shore. With each spare moment of peace you were given to dwell beneath the lapping waters, you spend a portion of it in search of that song. And what time remains within the falling sand’s glass, you bask in the blue and faded black abyss. 

  Tonight is no different. You could not remember the forgotten song that lulls you tenderly, pulling through skin and scale, calling you somewhere far, much too far, away from the balancing hull above. 

  You could not abandon your captain. Betray the trust between you both. After all, it was he who found you washed atop the rocky crevices of the island, who rescued you from a fate of drying out in the sun’s merciless heat. Who took care of you when there was nothing left of the life you once knew. 

  To break that earnt trust, to betray him, you can’t think of anything far more heartbreaking than that. 

“Time’s up, my Siren,” the voice of your captain beckons you. He calls you to the surface. 

  A sigh ripples through the water and your head tilts up towards the surface, the darkened slits in your milky white eyes shrink away from the moonlight penetrating through the waves. The long limb of your tail sweeps back and forth, thrusting you upwards, skin and scales shimmering brighter as you near the barrier between water and air. The breach pulls a lungful gasp of the night's chillingly crisp air, the only warmth coming from The Avenger. 

  Hair drench-pressed and thinned forms a curtain over your features as you peer up at the looming figure pridefully arching over the ship’s wooden rail. The slivered slits of your eyes grow wider as they focus on him, with a lantern beside him, glass scorched and worn by smoke, it illuminates the upper portion of his body. His white shirt ruggedly wrinkled and loosened to showcase a muscled chest, skin tanned by the sun’s heated kiss, sleeves rolled to the elbow, black ink painted legendary stories over his body in memorabilia. Stories forged into his flesh for all to study and cower in fear.

  He summons you with a kink of his finger and you obey his silent command with an all too eager nod. Around you, the water spirals into a column and rises up, pushing you higher to reach the wooden railing. Aboard the ship, the crew is merry in their celebrations. Another successful day of conquest and battle on the high seas, another amassed sum of gold and valuables to add to hull and reputation. 

  Of course spirits would be high and cheerful tonight. And of course, what was a conquest without the captain’s prize at the end of it all?

  Gathering yourself over the rail and onto the deck, the glistening shine of your tail morphs into two shapely legs, the milky hues of your eyes and other remnants of your true body hide in their human disguise. Your eyes find the hourglass on his opposite side, the sand all gathered in the bottom glass pit. Your captain holds something out for you and you graciously accept his gift, pulling the thin veil of your robe over your naked body. 

  His ocean blue eyes scan you up and down, the left corner of his plush, chapped lips turns upwards. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He purrs his question and it brings a cold chill to run up and down your spine, your lungs freeze with what little breath they had at that moment. 

  He turns his body properly to face you, burly shoulders and thick muscles straining the fabric of his shirt. His eyes fold slightly into a sharpened stare of interrogation. 

  “I–I don’t…” You shake your head, breath hitching. “I don’t understand, Captain. I search for nothing that is not you.”

  “Aye?” 

  Your gaze drops to the limb of his remaining flesh hand, the other limb itself brings an uncomfortable yet hazy familiarity, you dare not to look at it up close when in the awoken presence of his intimidating stature. Often you would question its being there and admire its raw and unique - mystical - materials, when your captain lay beside you fast asleep. 

  Wrapped tightly over and under the callousness of his palm, the golden chain twinkles in the pale moonlight, the larger pearl at its centre holstered by binding gold and tinier pearls, beneath the gilded net a more refined shape of a pearl dances on its link. 

  However, your mesmerised pupils flicker up in an instant, brought to the attention of your captain awaiting your obedient answer. A noise is pitched in your throat with the answer but it dies swiftly before its deliverance. 

  Your vision focuses behind him then, up near the ship’s helm, her fingers lace slowly in their hypnotic movement as the fabric of her scarlet magic is weaved together. A warning. You do your best to hide the distressed visage of fear, batting your eyelashes and brushing aside the death of your verbal response, you bow your body forward submissively to his that towers over you.

  When your lips touch his, he almost instantly devours yours in a hungry kiss, the soft caress of your fingers tracing the curves of his chest brings pride and lust to possessively reel you into him, your nude front colliding against the hardened wall of his own. 

  Your hands run their course of exploration up the swollen bulk of his arms until they find purchase and entangle themselves in his dark locks. His own hands ravage your body, kneading the flesh and slim muscle of your hips.

  He groans when you submit to his overpowering will, mouth parting to his eager tongue that shoots forward like a fired cannon, aimed to dominate you in every sense of the word. Your soft whimpers beneath him bring him unimaginable pleasure, the sort that drives him to seek it evermore, with no seeming end to his insatiable hunger for what is you; your entire being. Wolves are known to be ravenous beasts. It’s why he’s known by the moniker as the White Wolf. 

  His tongue fiercely dances over yours, swirling and his bottom teeth tease you by nipping your lip, earning a high pitched squeal from you. He chuckles, the sound rich and dark in its intention. Your core comes alight, burning hotly and the once cool air dissipates as heat courses through every vein and nerve in your body, your mind swimming in the ocean pools of his eyes. Eyes that at times are the only thing you need to be connected to the sea. 

  The prominent tent of his erected endowment presses against your stomach and lower abdomen. You finally pull away, however, in his caging embrace it’s not very far you’re able to move back. 

  “Wait for me in my cabin, little Siren,” he orders gruffly. Your mouth falls agape and you sputter in your rattled confusion. 

  “But I—” Still he penetrates you with that cold stare. It prods at you with radiant intensity, it matches the ominous scarlet glow that now burns brighter now as it moves down the upper deck’s stairs. Your eyes dart between the woman who controls the rolling waves of red magic and the ferocity of your captain’s hardpressed gaze. 

  Your head bounces quickly. “Yes...” 

  A few words of compliance are cut off by a gasp. As you attempt to follow his order and return to his cabin, he halts you within his metallic grasp and pulls you back in, curled lips mere inches from your own, in the clutches of his brazen hold, he commands your attention. Your hands are forced to rest over his chest. 

  He drawls with a warning growl, “Yes?”

  “Yes, Captain Barnes.”

  Bucky nods his head once and lets you go, his eyes flicker between the cabin door and you, silently instructing you to hurry along. Your bare feet barely make a sound over the wooden deck in your traversal towards the cabin, where you would await your captain to claim his prize. Treasure that he greedily gets to have all to himself. The conquest he takes glee in ravishing himself full of. 

  Once you’re tucked inside, exactly where he wants you, Bucky scratches at his stubbled jaw, his recent shave already beginning to grow in again. Wanda approaches his side, the fabric of her magic ceasing at her fingertips like embers passing over into lowly ashes. 

  “That was a close one,” Bucky growls, his tongue that savours your taste runs over his teeth. She hisses with a hushed tone, “With each outing she is given to delve into the sea, my magic weakens, Captain.”

  His eyes roll to glare at the woman beside him. She sighs with a bow of her head, eyes downcast as to not provoke him into thinking her words a challenge. 

  “All I mean to say is that you must reinforce her rules. She’s beginning to suspect far too much, and with each piece of recollection, my power is sapped by her own. Enforce her rules once more.”

  Bucky’s shoulders shrug upwards with an all too arrogant huff, haughty in his conviction. He idly tilts his flesh hand, admiring the piece of you he has wrapped up in his iron grasp. 

  “She will do well to keep in mind her place. She’s intimidated.”

  “She’s conflicted, Captain.” Her words bring about a scowl to Bucky’s face, lips coiled into a snarl and nose wrinkling, eyes thinning. “And it will be a matter of time before she is free of you, and you will be known as the captain who lost his siren.”

  The bridge of this knowledge leaves Bucky in a state of strife. An aspect to his notorious reputation was garnered by your captivity. The White Wolf known by all as the fearsome pirate captain who tamed a siren; held you in the oyster of his clutches. If he did lose you, then his reputation would be suffering a heavy loss. As if to sense his change of demeanour, her hands raise up with her glowing, magic tipped fingers. His nostrils flare and the harsh prestige that made him a force not to be trifled with, he commands,  “Do it.”

  Bucky struts off with a roll of thunder beneath his leather worn boots, swiping up a half drunk bottle of rum and swallows an animalistic gulp, joining in on the festivities of his crew. Wanda observes her captain for a moment before diverting her attention towards the cabin. Her hands fold over one another, and with her palms outstretched, the scarlet hue dances through the air in a thin, cloudy blanket, searching and finding the miniscule gap beneath the wooden door. 

  He pummels into you until your back pushes far into the mattress, eliciting sharp whines and sultry moans from your parted lips, breath caught in a pattern of shallow pants. He chases after his second high as he drives his cock deep into you, the sound of skin slapping skin perverts the cabin’s air and already you begin to feel your core tremble in its own pursuit for its fourth orgasm. With each powerful snap of his hips, his throat chokes out a grunt in his exertions, the girth of his cock sinks deep into the channel of your hot, velvety cunt. 

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he growls lowly with a hiss, “so fuckin’ tight! You feel so good, you’re— taking me so well.” 

  With an exceptionally powerful rut of his hips and he has you on the precipice of screaming, thighs quivering in their hold around his waist, heels digging into the dip of his large, muscular back. Any coherent thoughts and words die on the vine of your vocal cords, only able to procure sounds of pleasure, to chant his name over and over again. 

  “Captain Barnes!” you mewl with fervour. Bucky’s chest vibrates with a husky chuckle. “That’s right, scream my name, let the crew hear you, Love. Let them hear how drunk you are for my cock.” 

  His one palm is laced with sweat, thick and roughened fingers squeeze yours in a passionate display of his dark possessiveness over you. Your captain could be very jealous when another’s eyes lingered on you for even a second too long, many others had suffered the brunt of his fury - weapons ablaze - and you in the end suffered the brunt of his envy with his cock pounding into you for the next several hours. 

  To remind you to whom it was you belong to. 

  His lips suckle one of the erected peaks of your breasts, moaning as his tongue leaves a wet trail around it before passing over to the second to repeat the treatment. Your head turns to the side sharply when the head of his cock splits you open even further than you could previously imagine, hitting a hidden crevice that leaves you without breath. 

  He gauges your reaction, the colour of your eyes blurring, phasing between the natural milky white canvases and the hue of your disguise, your canines and incisors now elongated, all because of the pleasure that pools at the junction where your bodies meet. But for a moment, you catch the glimmer of gold still wrapped around his hand, glimmering metal gnawing and rubbing across his skin, you’re torn between your euphoria and clouded curiosity. 

  “Say it again,” he grunts with a hard thrust that makes his muscles ripple insanely beneath his skin.

  “C’mon, say it for your captain, Love.” 

  Your lips and tongue drag across the flesh of his wrist, the pulse of his racing heart beats through, you can almost taste the rhythm. His sweat tastes strong with his musk, a strong flavour of the salty sea, sandy beaches and gunpowder. 

  You moan softly, almost in a whisper, “Captain… C-Captain Barnes.”

  The effect you have on him is indescribable to him. Never has he been able to put it into words, all he can do is feel it; carnally. The repetitive pounding into that deeper and sweeter spot has your back arching up, the smooth layer of your sweat covered body rubs against his, able to feel each defining muscle, he uses his metal hand to grip hold of one of your thighs, angling you so that you’re spread further apart for him. Your eyes begin to fall heavy and roll back into your skull in your drunken haze, the shimmer of scarlet presently blooms from time to time in them.  

  “That’s right. You belong to me, little Siren. It’s my cock that has you dripping wet.” His thrusts become faster, losing the precise edge he had before, his climax inevitably as close as your own. Your nails embed crescent moons into the skin of his one hand while the other bites into his shoulder. 

  “I’m the only man— fuck! The only man who gets to have you like this. Shit… shit. ’M going to fill you up.” 

  “Please, please… Cap—”

  “Aye, I’m going to fill you up, have you nice ‘nd full until my cum is leaking out of your little cunt, Siren. Fuck… you want that, don’t you? I know you do.” 

  You gasp with each attempt to breathe, each push and pull of his cock strikes you like a match to light the powder keg, the explosion of your climaxes comes as a white hot flash in your vision, momentarily blinding you. Your hot walls squeeze around his large endowment, forcing him to thrust back and forth even harder, grunting hot breaths against the shell of your ear. 

  His seed is flushed into the channel of your pussy in thick, seething spurts that paint your walls that milk him for every precious drop. 

  What he gives makes your lower abdomen weigh a little heavier, a little bit fuller than you were before. His hips grow slower with each dissipating explosion from his tip. His large chest expands hugely with every intake of air to his lungs before deflating as a pleased groan. 

  In his reverie of contentment, having had his fill of his prize - for now - he withdraws his softening cock from your pussy, a moistened pop echoes in the emptiness of your thoughts. Bucky rolls off of you to lay at your side, atop the furs and silken drapes of the bed. Before you can make a move he uses his metal arm to drag you in closer, tucking you into his side, the coldness of his fingers skimming the delicate texture of your arm. 

  The soothing rock of the ship is enough to lull you to sleep, the lids of your eyes inching closer and closer together. 

  “Still deny that you found nothing?” 

  His question only brings your brows to knit together. You shake your head and huddle closer into his side, basking in the comforting warmth of his body. Why on earth would he ask you such a silly question? As if there was anything of importance that outranked him, by being at his side. 

  The answer you give is instant in its resolve, “I don’t understand, Captain. I needn’t find anything out there… I have you.” 

  Your answer, though unable to see it from your position, pleases him and his lips curl into a toothy smirk, long sweeps of his dark brown hair tousled about in his post sex state. You lay your head against his chest to hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, eyes closing to seek rest and refuge in the arms of your beloved captain. The man that grants you safety, that promises you nights of passion followed by the comfort of his body next to yours. All he asks in return is your loyalty. Your devotion.

  For you to be his siren. 

  Behind the blurry curtain of sleep layered over your eyes, you awaken and by your estimation, only for around an hour or maybe a little more. The morn still hasn’t risen over the ocean’s horizon, the moonlight shimmering and shining over the waves. The candlelight that bathed the cabin with a sensual atmosphere had now burnt out. 

  Breaths of deepened sleep sound next to you, the chiselled sculpt of his chest you’d used as a pillow takes steady form, as he sleeps. It makes you wonder as to what he dreams about, sometimes a scowl is etched into his attractive visage and he becomes restless, leaving you to somehow comfort him. And other times, mostly after he’s spent drawing orgasm after orgasm from the two of you, he finds respite. 

  You take the time to thoroughly yet delicately rub your eyes, robbing the tiredness of its hold to take you once more. With a tilt of your head, hair coming over your shoulder to graze the top of your breasts, his other hand lay out over the bed, residing just over the edge. 

  The mysterious object that somehow you know is linked with you, but as to how or why, or its significance to you in any case, is still laced around his calloused palm. Despite its odd gleam of familiarity, you believe this is the first time you’ve seen it before, however, the tiny voice in the back of your mind says otherwise. Then you must have seen something like it before somewhere. 

  Something deep in the recess of your heart, you have to know. Is this somehow linked to the estranged longing to a home you can’t remember? Does this necklace bind you to the lost melody of times erased from your memory?

  You take caution in moving carefully, inching your way to lean over the sleeping form of your captain, skin brushing skin, you slowly rotate your hips and hoist a thigh over his waist. Heated crimson flushes into your cheeks as you analyse your newfound position, but also from the way his body stirs lightly, still enraptured by sleep yet his body adjusting to your core lining over his naval. 

  Thawed from your frozen idle of panic, you take a moment to calm the racing of your heart that hammers vigorously against your chest, your nimble fingers reach out towards his flesh hand that clings protectively to the mysterious necklace. 

  This almost feels… too easy. You swallow a silent gulp, fingers grazing against his palm when his body shifts, bumping up into yours, you pull your reach back so fast, your hand slaps against his ribs, doing your best to cover up your true intentions. His stills beneath you once more and your shoulders fall lax with a sigh of relief. 

  Again you dare another attempt to grab the necklace, this time you don’t risk breathing, holding it for what seems like forever until your lungs begin to swell with an ache that makes them feel like bubbles about to burst. 

  You work the chain until it's loosened and finally allow your held breath to escape you, the strain to remain silent proving far more difficult than you would have liked. The weight of your body shifts backwards, now sitting up, you allow your eyes to take in every detail of the object in your hands. The gold chain is light, ghostly as it graces your hands, your fingers lace and loop it around amidst the process of your conjuring thoughts. 

  Like a puppeteer pulling the strings you raise the necklace up by its precious thread. The pearl encaged by its makeshift net swings from side to side, as though even when you are completely still, it has a soul of its own accord. 

  Everything you knew about pearls is forfeit, the identity of this one brings the bevel between your brows to form in thoughtful wonder. Therein lies the piece of some puzzle, the missing notes to the melody to which you only recall the faint rhythm of the song. 

  It has to mean something of greater importance. But if it did, then why is your captain so adamant to dismiss your curious nature to find the answers?

  As if the pearl itself is the key, you hear within your heart and soul the song. Voices sing a tone that is calming to your senses, a sweet and endearing lullaby meant for you to hear whenever you find yourself in the loneliest of places, in the darkest reaches of the ocean, the connection will bring you somewhere you call home. 

  But your home is The Avenger. Aboard the ship with Captain Barnes. The man known as Bucky to his closest inner circle. So why do the voices mingling with the tide call you away from all that? With each passing second you become ensnared by the spell of the pearl, the voices of whom you somehow find solace in become louder, the softened chorus of their song echoes a hundred times over in your head. 

  Before you even give pause to reason, your own voice becomes paired with the orchestra of sirens. You have no words, and maybe you never did, all you did need is the pearl to help guide you in remembering the melody. The uncertainty of your humming eases, the unforeseen instructors aiding you, your voice is soft within its deep reverie when it all comes to an abrupt pause, a gasp severing the tune. 

  He has you by the wrist, fingers bruisingly tight and giving you no choice to pull away from him, as he often did whenever he saw you retreat from him without his say so. 

  Bucky’s eyes bear into yours, penetrating the barrier of the necklace, he stares you down the way a wolf does the lonely prey in its path. His eyes match the brooding darkness of a storm at sea, a breed of villainy that threatens those who dare to try him. 

  “Captain…” Your throat bobs with a nervous swallow.  “I– I wasn’t—” 

  Out of pure instinct to not tempt his fury, your hold on the necklace ceases and it gathers in the roughened pad of his palm, large thumb that has caressed your sensitive nub plenty of times now works against the spherical shape of the pearl, brows heavy in their judgement to assess your punishment. His movement is sudden upon the brink of your awareness, a sharp gasp that cuts into the tender muscle of your chest as he plants you flat on your back, hands both of flesh and metal pin your wrists on either side of you until the bruising ache becomes far too unbearable. But you do nothing to voice the level of your pain. He would not hear of it. His newly erected shaft ghosts over your entrance, the beginnings of your slick painting his already drooling tip.  “I’m beginning to think you like breaking my rules, Siren.”

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, Yes. Yes... YAAAAS! IM DOING IT! I'm frickin' writing a pirate Bucky! Mmmm! Fuckin' love pirate stuff, I'm just living for Bucky being a hot pirate commanding a vessel on the high seas.

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic

[cheriebrat]

Bucky gently wiping his girl’s never ending tears as she tries to apologize for trying to escape a third time, promising him she’ll never do it again only for him to chain her back up for the rest of the night but he knows that she’ll be his perfect little Stockholm princess in no time, especially when the winter soldier is there to help sort her out💞

fuckkkkkk.

warnings; fem!reader, kidnapping, early stages of stockholm syndrome, soft but manipulative bucky, mentions of the winter soldier coming out to play (😏), (perhaps opportunity for an au here!!!)

Your cheeks are glossy with the seemingly never ending wave of tears that portend their descent over your flushed cheeks. Your pulse thrums against your neck, skittering like a nervous doe when Bucky's thumb slides over the tender spot beneath your jaw. His amorous touch only serves to have you sobbing harder, tearing at the loose fitting tee that hangs around your neck as though the fabric is suffocating you.

"Shh, shh," Bucky coos, a thumb coasting the length of your waterline – a futile attempt to plug your tear ducts and slow the second onslaught of frantic tears. "Take it easy."

"I'm sorry," you wail. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have done it."

Your breath comes in wheezing pants, voice petering out into a whisper as terror's icy grip clamps around your throat and you start to sob in earnest. Bucky sighs, scooping you up tight against his chest and pressing a chaste peck to your sweat-slick temple.

You thrash and cant away from the touch, your body poised tightly and waiting for the punishing blow that is no doubt on its way. His arms tighten over your frame, biceps bulging with the effort it's taking to keep you from squirming out of his grip.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, baby. Stop," he growls, his voice a harsh, grating bite against your fragile ears. Bucky's cadence had come out crueller than he would have liked, and he pets your hair in an effort to dissuade you from panicking beneath his firm grasp.

"Please, I won't do it again. You have to believe me, I'll never do it again," you snivel, bowing your head low until your features are obscured.

"You said that last time, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You can't keep doin' this. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Bile crawls up your throat, hot and fast. Your chest burns.

"I feel sick."

"I know." He pulls the hair back from your balmy cheeks as you start to retch and heave, sobs still clawing from your chest all the while. You know what comes next, as does he.

"Please don't- don't put me down there. Please, I'm sorry."

"Do you need me to let Winter out, hm? You want him to take you down there, or me?"

You go stock still. Everything slows, Bucky's voice sticking to your ears like syrup. "No, no. I'll be good, I'm sorry," you croak, lips filling with air as you suppress another retch.

The mere mention of the soldier is enough to halt every ounce of defiance in your body. Winter is far less forgiving than Bucky, and you're not willing to take your chances.

Not tonight.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, smearing a sticky kiss along your cheekbone. "You stay down there tonight and be good for me, and we'll do something nice tomorrow, how about that?" he bargains. "I'll let you pick a movie to watch, and you can sleep in bed with me for as long as you want, yeah?"

You sag like dead weight against Bucky's chest, seeping up the warmth of the skin-on-skin contact while you still have the chance. You're in for a very long - very cold - night.

"Please don't do this to me," you whisper. Desperation clings to your every syllable, weighs down every word you speak until your voice is thick with tears.

"You know I have to, sweetheart."

His kindness makes it worse, you think. If he was cruel, if he didn't show you this... softness, maybe you could find it in yourself to hate him.

But the way he lets you cling to him, kisses the top of your head as he delivers your punishment, murmuring soft, adoring affirmations all the while... You just can't.

And you know when he lets you out in the morning, you'll be good for him. You'll accept him, in his entirety. You'll let him kiss you and tuck you into his side like you've always been there. You'll let him love you.

Maybe you can learn to love him, too.

Bucky knows you can. He just has to give it time.

[bandsofmarv]

Cold to the touch

Enemies to lovers Bucky x reader

TW - smut, angst

Part 2

The compound was unusually quiet, except for the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. You sat at the kitchen counter, nursing a mug of tea, hoping the caffeine would get you through another tense morning.

It wasn’t the missions, the training, or even the threat of constant danger that drained you. No, it was him.

Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. Resident pain in your ass.

You had been forced to work together on Steve’s orders, a new partnership meant to “strengthen the team dynamic.” Instead, it had only strengthened your resolve to avoid him at all costs. Bucky was cold, distant, and maddeningly closed off. And worse, he seemed to go out of his way to make your life hell.“Up early, huh?” His voice, low and gravelly, startled you out of your thoughts. Speak of the devil.

You turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, his piercing blue eyes fixed on you. He looked as stoic as ever, but there was a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I could say the same to you,” you replied, trying to keep your tone neutral.

He shrugged, moving to pour himself a cup of coffee. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward, until he broke it.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It wasn’t a question.

You blinked at him, surprised by his directness. “Not everything is about you, Barnes.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure this is,” he said, turning to face you fully. His gaze was sharp, assessing, like he was trying to read your mind. “What’s your problem with me, anyway?”

“My problem?” You laughed bitterly, setting your mug down with a clink. “You’re arrogant, impossible to talk to, and you act like the whole world owes you something.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, the faintest crack in his icy exterior. “You don’t know the first thing about me,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

“And whose fault is that?” you shot back. “You don’t let anyone in. You’re like a damn wall.”

He took a step closer, his steel-blue eyes burning into yours. “Maybe I don’t let people in because I know how it ends. People like you—they don’t stick around when things get messy.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, cutting through your anger like a blade. For a moment, you saw the man beneath the armor, the one haunted by a past he couldn’t escape.

“That’s not fair,” you said softly, your tone losing its edge. “You don’t get to push people away and then blame them for not trying.”

Bucky stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he closed the distance between you, his metal hand bracing on the counter beside you.

“Why do you care, anyway?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why not just walk away?”

Your breath hitched as his proximity sent a shiver down your spine. His scent, a mix of leather and something distinctly him, filled your senses, making it impossible to think straight.

“Maybe I’m just stubborn,” you said, your voice shaking slightly.

He tilted his head, his gaze dropping to your lips. “Stubborn enough to take a chance on someone like me?”

You didn’t have time to answer. Bucky’s lips crashed against yours, desperate and unrelenting, like he’d been holding himself back for far too long. You gasped against his mouth, your hands flying to his chest, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

He made the decision for you. His flesh hand slid to your waist, tugging you against him as his metal fingers traced up your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His kiss was messy, full of teeth and hunger, but it was exactly what you needed.

“Bucky,” you breathed when his lips left yours to trail down your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, his breath hot against your skin. “If you want me to, tell me now.” But you didn’t. Instead, you pulled him closer, threading your fingers through his hair as his hands roamed, exploring every inch of you like he was memorizing it.

“Hard to love, huh?” you murmured, your voice teasing despite the breathlessness.

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes dark with desire. “You have no idea.”

And then he kissed you again, and for the first time, you thought maybe you were willing to find out.

[lokiswifeduh]

Don't leave me

Pairings- Mob!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary- The aftermath of the shootout was here. And Bucky has to come to terms with the results of the life he introduced you to, and what revenge he would ensue.

notes- this is a part two to Doll, please. I hope you guys enjoy the ending!! Please let me know your thoughts!! Thank you for reading loves!!

Warnings- angst, talk of guns, drugs, kidnapping, abuse, torture. major gore. sad Bucky, hurt reader, hurt/comfort, gunshot wounds, medical talk, revenge.

WC- 3k

catch up here (part one)

masterlist

"Doll, please."

I saw her look up at me with those doe eyes. Those big beautiful eyes painfully gazing into mine. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to turn her away from the bullets that were sure to fly our way, but I couldn't move my hands. In this moment I couldn't protect her.

I felt the sob rip from her throat. There were only ten seconds left.

"I vowed to stand by your side, Buck." She looked back to the ten guns pointed in mine and her direction. I could see a stray tear slip down her cheek as her hands shook, her nails digging into her palm as she tried her hardest to release my wrists from the painful wire digging into them.

Suddenly she dropped the knife, jumping into my lap. Her hands wrapped around my neck as her legs surrounded the back of the chair, encasing my upper body. "NO! Doll, please!!" I felt her hit the knife in my thigh with hers, but I ignored the pain focusing on what in the world she thought she was doing.

The men cocked their guns. But in that moment all I could think about was how to get her off of me. I needed her to run, to fight back to do something. Not to protect my body with hers. I couldn't let her.

"Doll!! Stop!! Get up!!" But my protests fell on deaf ears as she tucked my head into her chest, wrapping her arms tighter around my neck, not letting me move a muscle below her. She shook her head, my tears soaking her shirt, mixing with mine and her blood. "I won't let you die." She attempted to shout but at that moment her voice was the quietest I'd ever heard it.

I tried to whisper back when suddenly shots rang out through the warehouse. My head popped up, prepared to die with the love of my life. I wouldn't let her do it herself. I would not live without her. Not if I had a choice.

But in that split second, I realized the first bullets that went flying weren't from Rumlow's men, it was from Steve, Sam, and my men, shooting at the ones who threatened us.

"Doll, we're gonna be oka-" But my words were cut short as two bullets flew into her. She screamed. Her vocal cords grinding together in the most painful way I'd ever heard. I felt my heart rip in two as her body shook against mine, arching her back as if that would stop the pain.

But she kept her head down, arms shaking yet still holding onto me. I would have cut my hands off if I had the strength to rip through the restraints. A sob tore from my throat, "Don't do this to me."

She finally lifted her head, my beautiful wife looking at me with such care and tenderness. As if she hadn't just been shot twice, and wasn't using all of her strength to hold onto me for dear life.

A small drop of blood trickled down the side of her mouth as her teeth were painted red. "I love you, James Barnes." She cupped my face in her hands, tucking me back into her chest as her grip seemed to loosen, "Till forever and always."

The words we both said to each other on our wedding day. "Doll, please." Her hold on me finally failed as she fell, but thankfully into the arms of Steve, before her head would've slammed into the concrete.

My second in command looked at both of us. Tortured and bloody. I held in my tears as I looked at Sam, leading a pair of medics through the door.

"Rumlow will pay." The wire from my wrists was snapped in half thanks to Peter, a new, very terrified recruit. I shot down immediately onto my knees, holding her head in my hands as the paramedics loaded my wife onto the stretcher. "Don't leave me."

I made eye contact with Steve, "I will have him and that traitor's head."

_________________

You lay in the hospital bed, your whole body practically wrapped in soft white bandages.

You could feel the pressure of something on your thigh as you tried to open your eyes. It wasn't working. Why couldn't you just open them?!

Try something else, you thought.

You moved your hands, the feeling of someone else's palm in yours made your heart start to race. You could remember little parts over the last three days.

Bucky was kidnapped.

Steve was put in charge.

You were kidnapped.

Natasha was working with Rumlow.

The torture.

The pain.

Your husband's face as you used yourself as a human shield.

Being shot.

Suddenly you heard screaming and saw bright lights. A heart monitor was beeping louder and faster at each passing second.

Realizing the screaming was in fact your own, you started to breathe harder. You finally could open your eyes!

Your surroundings were blurry at first. There was a familiar figure in front of you. Sounds were muffled but began to come back into focus.

"Doll?! Sweetheart, you're okay."

You shook your head, looking around in panic before realizing you were in fact back at home, in your bed. Bucky beside you. Your husband, holding your face in his hands.

"B-Bucky?" Your voice was raspy and your throat felt like sandpaper, rubbing together from underuse.

Involuntarily you started to cough, holding a hand up to your throat which only caused more pain in your back to bloom. "Ah," You groaned, swallowing before resting your head back on the pillow.

You felt Bucky's hands leave your body, but only for a second as he held a straw to your lips. "It's just water doll. I need you to drink this for me." You nodded, feeling a pounding in your head as you sucked down the refreshing liquid. The coolness soothing your throat like rain in the desert.

"Good girl." Bucky gave you a soft smile, taking the straw away from your mouth as you finished the water.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you regained your vision, looking around.

Monitors, medical equipment, and an abundance of flowers and cards filled your and Bucky's bedroom. Light shone through the window as you squinted, shooting over to look at Bucky who just gazed down at you worryingly.

You looked him over, seeing the cuts and bruises that adorned his face. His lip was split in multiple places. His thigh was wrapped in gauze and his wrists were bandaged. Looking down, so were yours. Actually, it seemed your entire body was.

"Are yo-," You swallowed, "Are you okay?"

Bucky took a moment before letting out a laugh. "You're asking me if I'm okay, doll?" You nodded, confused.

"Sweetheart you're the one who's been unconscious for three weeks and has two bullet wounds."

You twisted your hips a little, feeling the agonizing, shooting pain of the very real bullet wounds. Groaning, you whispered, "So that definitely happened, good to know."

Bucky ran his hand down the side of your face, sitting in the chair that was placed beside your shared bed. "I'm the one who's supposed to protect you, doll." You gulped, "I- I couldn't let you die, James."

Bucky closed his eyes, laying his head down on your thigh as he gripped your hand in his. "I would've rather die than see you in this state, sweetheart."

You lifted your other hand, running it through his untamed hair. "Don't say that, Buck." But his head lifted, making you notice his bloodshot eyes and the way tears streamed down his face in harsh lines. "I won't live without you, doll." He shook his head, a tear dripping onto the hospital blanket "I would rather die a thousand times over and over in the same painful way than see you in such agony, my love."

You held back tears, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your breath. "I couldn't- no. I wouldn't let you die like that, Buck." You looked at him once again, "Not at the hands of Rumlow. Not because of me." "This wasn't because of you, doll-" "But it was!" You shouted, making you cough slightly, not used to using your voice for this long yet. "Rumlow took you because he wanted to hurt us- because he wanted me." You cupped Bucky's jaw in your hand, "Because I chose you." Bucky gulped, "I've never been so scared." You softly laughed, thinking of all the shootouts, drug deals, and interrogations Bucky went through on a day-to-day basis.

But he shook his head, hearing your chuckle. "Seeing him hurt you and torture you the way he did." Bucky's eyes went dark, "I've never wanted to hurt someone so bad just to ensure you made it out of there safely." You tried to speak up but Bucky kept going. "And look at you now. You're laying here, with two gunshot wounds, fingernails ripped apart, and a busted-up face."

Tilting your head, you looked at the mirror that stood in front of your and Bucky's bed; genuinely taking in your appearance. You in fact did have a busted-in face. Your lip was split. Your eyebrow was stitched as well as your nose. You had bruises covering every inch of your skin and your hair was in the worst shape you had ever seen.

Gulping, you looked away from the mirror, making Bucky take your chin in his hands, guiding you to look him in the eyes. "But you're still the prettiest doll I've ever seen." He moved, bringing his lips to yours in a soft yet long-awaited kiss. "My best girl."

It hurt to smile but you did, bringing your hand to his face, gently rubbing over the matching bruises that mirrored yours. "I love you, James."

"I love you, doll."

________________________

The next few days were agonizing.

You could finally stand up on the third day. But not without terrible pain shooting in every nerve ending of your body.

Bucky helped you with everything. From showering to cleaning your wounds. He was quite the nurse when it came to you.

But unfortunately about a week after you woke up, the violence hadn't ended. There were still some loose ends to tie up.

Slowly walking down the stairs and into one of the main rooms, everyone's attention went to your hobbling frame. "Doll?" Bucky sped over, Steve immediately pulling up a chair so you could take a seat.

As you sat down you noticed a large bruise on Steve's jaw. You knew Bucky would eventually be mad at him for not properly making sure you stayed out of the mess and violence of it all. But you were hoping it would've been a stern lecture, not a punch.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Bucky whispered. The room stayed completely silent as Steve, Sam, and the rest of Bucky's men kept their backs turned, giving you two some privacy.

"I know you're planning to retaliate against, Rumlow."

Bucky nodded, taking your face in his hands as you fidgeted with the string of your sweatpants. Well, Bucky's sweatpants.

"I don't want you involved again, doll." He glanced back at Steve for a moment, "Not after what happened."

You shook your head, "I need him to pay for this, Buck." Your body shook with anger, "I want his fucking blood." Bucky was slightly startled, never seeing this much hatred in your eyes. You were always his sweet wife. You made the men cookies, and you organized charity events for the homeless shelter down the street.

Sure, you knew how to use a gun and fight if you had to. But seeing this much agonizing resentment on your face, scared him. But he knew you wouldn't let it go. He sure as hell wasn't.

So he let you know the plan, and what was going down.

______________

"Steve? We good?" Bucky touched the earpiece, hearing an affirmative. The mob had infiltrated Rumlow's mansion only one week later, killing every single man who stood in their way. Shoot on site. Was your husband's order as you and he waited to enter the mansion, making sure only Rumlow and Natasha were left.

Two of Bucky's men opened the doors to the mansion. The sight of the place made you cringe slightly. Soldiers were dead on the ground everywhere. Blood painted the floors and staircases like a stain.

"Top floor, back left bedroom."

You heard Steve's voice echo through the earpiece as you and Bucky made your way up.

His hand never left the small of your back, making sure you were covered at all angles with men following behind and in front of you, rifles pinned for every aspect of an attack.

"You alright, doll?" Bucky whispered, his hand on the door that would lead you to Rumlow. You nodded, ignoring the dull pain in your back. "I need this to be over with." Your husband kissed the crown of your head, nodding to his men as they busted down the door, guns held high.

But the sight in front of you made you smile.

Rumlow was beaten down, cowering in the corner of the room as Natasha stood in the corner, you could see the fear in her eyes. The same fear she caused you as she ripped your fingernails to pieces.

"Brock Rumlow," Bucky spoke in a deep voice, pulling on a pair of black gloves, before handing you a matching pair.

You slipped them on, hand placed on the knife that was strapped onto your thigh, just above the black jeans you had on.

Steve and Sam patted Bucky on the back, looking toward you with respect. "Have fun, you two." The blonde spoke, before exiting and closing the doors behind them.

"P-please, Barnes." Rumlow pleaded, "Have mercy."

Bucky was about to laugh before Natasha beat him to it. "Oh, please. You two really think he was the mastermind behind all this?" You looked over at the redhead in the corner, your former friend.

"If he's not, does that mean you are?" Your voice carried through the room, a newfound confidence making you raise your head high.

Natasha grinned, "And here I thought you never would've survived." You tilted your head, "Two bullet shots and I'm walking four weeks later." You pulled the gun from your other holster, "I can't say the same for you after this." You pointed it right at her forehead.

"Come here," Bucky moved forward, knowing you had Natasha pinned with the intent to shoot; dragging Rumlow up as two of his men held him on his knees.

"Nat, please. Do something." Rumlow begged, making you let out a laugh under your breath. "Do you think she's really in the position to?" You saw her move forward slightly, making you cock your gun, "One more step and I blow your fucking brains all over these white sheets."

Bucky grinned, loving this color on you.

"You really thought you could take my girl from me?" Your husband kneels in front of Brock, pulling out a knife from his belt. "What did you call her after breaking her nose? Oh, that's right, a 'lovely specimen."

Bucky's smirk dropped, nodding at the two men holding Brock down as they forced his mouth open. Brock shouted and yelled as Bucky gripped the end of his tongue, pulling it from his mouth and slicing it clean off from the base with his knife.

Brock wailed and cried as another soldier brought over a jar filled with a yellow liquid, opening the top so Bucky could drop the tongue in. He closed the lid, holding it up high as he watched Brock's mouth fill with blood. "What a lovely specimen."

"You two are fucking sick." Natasha, sneered, making you grip the knife from your own holster, throwing it and landing it right in her hand that was held in the air. She screamed, falling to the ground and back up until her back hit the wall.

You kneeled down, gun still pointed in her face, "Talk again and next time your tongue will join his in the jar." Your former friend gulped, nodding as you smirked.

Bucky gripped the front of Brock's shirt, making his back touch Bucky's chest as he held a knife to his throat. "Anything you wanna say before I kill you in front of your girlfriend, Rumlow?"

You laughed, slightly, making Bucky huff in humor. "Oh, that's right. You can't" He whispered the last part before slicing a clean and deep cut across his neck, blood pouring out as he collapsed to the ground, whimpering and sputtering in pain as he bled out, his eyes on you in fear as he eventually stopped moving.

Natasha looked back at you, still clutching her bleeding hand into her chest. You kneeled down, "Why, Natasha?" She shook with terror, hardly being able to force the words out. "Why did he have to pick you?!"

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "What?" Natasha scoffed, looking over at your husband, then back to you.

"Before you came along I thought he could love me. But then you showed up, taking all Bucky's attention. I never stood a fucking chance." You laughed, sighing before standing and walking over to Bucky, placing a hand on the back of his head before smashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. He groaned, biting your lip and making you moan into his mouth.

You chuckled, still holding the back of his head in your hand. You lifted your arm, perfect aim.

"No, Natasha. You never stood a fucking chance." One, two, then three shots rang out through the room as you planted two bullets in Natasha's head, and one in the chest.

Dropping the gun, you saw her body slump to the ground. Dead.

Bucky turned you away from the scene, bringing your face into his hands as both of you had unshed tears in your eyes. "It's over, doll."

You nodded, holding onto his hands as they held your face. "Can we go home, Buck?" He nodded, bringing your face into his chest as he walked you back through the house and into the car. "We're going home, doll. I'm never leaving you."

End

__________________

part one (read first)

masterlist

Taglist:

@yeahyeahyeah23-blog @rinniereads123 @shortnloud @julvrs @unaxv @sapphirebarnes

[sosa2imagines]

Broken Hearts.

Each part will have different warnings. There's only one love interest and it is not Steve. He is dark and mean in the series along with one more character. As for the rest, they are good friends.

New part every second day. (Hopefully)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 (Epilogue)

Complete. ✅

[shamrockqueen]

Omega retreat chapter 11

Pairing : Alpha Bucky x Omega reader

Warnings : R18, breaking boundaries, references to sex, Bucky being bad, breaking Bucky

Word count : 1716

First chapter : Previous chapter

Bucky masterlist

Summary: As an unmarked and lonely omega you find a flyer for a service called The Omega Retreat.

You are paired with a compatible alpha to spend your heat or just a week at a luxurious cabin at a forest resort. Amenities and Utilities included. Enjoy the beautiful scenery, fresh air, as well as the company of an alpha of your choosing. What could possibly go wrong?

This pairing felt so right. It was a gut feeling that Bucky had, taking root, growing quickly, and overtaking any of the few doubts that had buzzed around like annoying little gnats. Now his certainty was thick and lush, like intruding ivy, digging into grout to burrow its little rootlets further into his frontal lobe, and throwing him further and further in love with you.

He waited, watching you nearly drift to sleep and happily disrupting your onset of slumber with a small tug of his hard knot until it began to go down and he could reluctantly pull free.

A small caress to your cheek, the brush of his dry knuckle along your damp skin as he trailed it down your neck. For now he’d won, successfully wracking your body through a joint-bending orgasm and staving off a whirlwind of heat.

His fingers trailed down the warm plains of your bare body, reaching for your shaking hands before locking them in his grasp to pull you from your perch on the small dining table.

You cling to his chest, grappling at the loose buttons of his flannel from where you tried to claw it from his body. You nearly missed a soft purr that rumbled from his hard chest as you cuddled against his neck as he two-stepped you towards the soft bed in the adjoining room. There wasn’t any other place more comfortable for you to crawl onto except to be blanketed by him.

It’s another pang against his weakened defenses, but even as his arms tightened around your smaller body and he groaned against your hair, he fought again to remain in control. You feel his shoulders stiffen but remain oblivious to the way his face seemed to darken. That edging of his body lingered, leaving his back tense as he pulled you from the table. You brush it off as his muscles flex as he lifts you up and carries you away to the bed to curl you into the blankets.

You reach out to grab at him and pull him to the bed with you, but he needs to attend to something first. He smiled down at your deepening pout, pulling at your wet lips, humming back dirty sentiment.

“Not afraid of fucking raw then? I wouldn’t have expected something like that from such a shy omega.”

He pinched at your reddened cheek, only to be met with a missed bite towards his retreating digits. It was a hungry fire he hadn’t expected to see but was very excited to find.

When your flames seemed to dim to a soft glow, you smiled up at him and spoke sweetly.

“We don’t need to worry about that, Alpha.”

Things can be said in the heat of the moment, something rumbling from a baser instinct. You’d spoken of protection over the phone, but you had a feeling it would fall by the wasteside. The chalky little contraceptive in your belly would serve to suit that purpose instead.

Bucky’s eyebrows were quirked before he asked, “Oh, why’s that?”

“I made sure to take the pill.” You said, lazily lowering your head to his shoulder as you began to drift.

Like a star, you burned furious and bright, only to fizzle and cool against your new lover’s body. Your brief moment of clarity would be his absolute undoing.

"Such-a smart girl, thinkin ahead like that.” You missed the subtle grinding of his back teeth as he whispered against your hair.

“Mm, thank you, Alpha.” You purred back, oblivious and happy.

He should have known better that this instant connection would have to be dragged along more slowly than he’d hoped. He’d lost his patience, and you’d made him believe that maybe you hadn’t had any either.

Everything had been allowed to move so quickly, nearly break-neck speed, and Bucky was more than willing to welcome it. Maybe too willing. Clearly there was more to you than he had originally learned, and your agenda quite possibly didn’t match his own.

His aggression is lidded, letting the steam fill every chamber as he digests your last few words. He tries to think, but each thought is racing around his head with a pulse of pain. Until he has one single thought that speaks aloud above all others.

He leaned in, standing over you to give you a soft, demanding kiss, wet lips locking as his tongue tapped your teeth before he pulled away and padded off towards the bathroom. Your hands grappled with him at first to keep him by your side, only relenting when he gave you a few reassuring words.

“Just a minute, Omega. I’ll be right back, ok?”

You nodded lazily before letting your head fall back on the soft pillows.

He’s shaking by the time he pushes past the threshold of the small bathroom, barely maintaining his much-needed restraint. Surely it was only the alpha that rattled its chains within him that was angry at this news. Surely, his true self would let you dance with him at your own pace instead of demanding submission.

He prided himself on being a loving man, an understanding man, a respectful man. He was still in control, not the Alpha inside.

He’d closed his eyes so as to center himself, his face pulling into a pinched expression. He let his surroundings fade in as he slowly cracked his eyes open, taking in the dim light of the bathroom before his narrowed pupils landed on a small floral bag perched on the granite sink.

It was the only piece of luggage to have been carried this far into the cabin. A little hygiene bag that was, no doubt, filled with toiletries, makeup,...and medication.

It held your betrayal, your means of evading him. He glared down at the insignificant tote as if it had the capacity to mock him.

The back and forth with these young omegas was a game Bucky used to play willingly, but times have changed. He wasn’t a young man anymore, and some more drastic measures may have to be made so he could finally settle down. He wanted to be a good man to such a wonderful woman like you, but he was done with being disappointed.

He couldn’t risk letting you slip through his fingers, and he wouldn’t let a pill the size of his pinky tip stand in his way.

He hooked his nail onto one of the zippers, pulling it open just a slit to be easily widened by his fingers. He carefully invaded your unsuspecting border as you slept, slipping his hand into the bag while pushing the sides further open for him to see into deep black fabric.

He felt the guilt and the regret each second he spent to find your source of power against him, his stomach tightening when he had them between his fingers.

His knees tried to lock, keeping him from moving away from the bag as he stared at the little white pills.

He could ask himself as to how he fought not to bite her, while at the same time he isn’t able to defeat this. His inner alpha had become a familiar opponent. Denying himself the things he’d desired the most was far too commonplace, and those would be the straw that broke his back. Your subtle betrayal.

Maybe if he kept you satiated, acting as a riptide barely keeping you afloat long enough for a breath of air, you wouldn’t notice your contraception was missing.

You’d be none the wiser if anything took, blissfully unaware of the seeds he may have planted.

The higher pitch of your needy whine cracked through his brain fog. The sound of you calling him back to bed, no doubt sweaty and ravenous like you had been before. It gave his conscious self time to peak through, only for his inner monster to squeeze past it towards your sweet siren call.

“Just a minute." He growled back, his teeth clacking together tightly as he gripped the sink with one hand, and that little silvery pack crinkled in the other.

He tore his hand from the sink and grabbed at the lid to the latrine before flipping it up with a clatter of porcelain.

His thumb pressed against the little white menace before it popped out of the foil and fell to the still water below. He stared at the empty bubble, feeling a better part of himself tear away and fade into obscurity as he chose to push another pill out. Then another, and another, 5, 6, 7, 8, until all the little pills were left floating precariously in the water.

He looked down at an irreparable offense as the little white souls seemed to cling to one another before their sterile lagoon began to swirl and swish, sucking them down into its whirlpool with a sputter as the commode was flushed.

Bucky hadn’t seen his arm move towards the trigger; he hadn’t noticed that he’d pushed the handle down until all your birth control was sucked away, out of sight but no further out of his mind. He’d successfully knocked away a barrier he’d found between you, feeling all the more lowly for having done so. Would you forgive him if you knew what he’d done only a second ago?

After the short amount of time you spent getting to know one another, moving quickly in terms of relationship wants, needs, and desires. Yet, he still held secrets, and he was sure you did as well. There would always be more to learn, and he wanted every morsel of your mind and soul now.

You made him so greedy that even this small amount of yourself he was denied made him throw this awful fit.

Once he’d left the bathroom, foil packet crumpled in his fist, he’d tried to justify his previous actions to himself. He did his best to hide the evidence under some food garbage in the kitchen, all while you blindly scented the air in search of him.

Your whimper calling for him was like a hard hammer coming down to crack his heart, and as he returned to your embrace in the twisted blankets, he had to bury his face against your sweaty skin to better busy his mind.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, tell me what you think. I’m trying to get my mojo back after what feels like forever since I last posted anything. I’m trying to find time to write…key word trying😅

Tags : @meowmeowyoongles @black-cat-2 @cjand10 @bethyruth @scott-loki-barnes @wintrsoldrluvr @buckysdoll85 @lendeluxe @meowmeowyoongles @magnoliamermaid @heletsmelovehim @mcira @buckysbaby-doll @serendipitouslife90 @unicornicopia1 @animegirlgeeky @matchat3a @darkdemeter @iwudbutnah @winterslove1917 @daddytonysgirl17 @jvanilly @kandis-mom @onyxwolf @thebuckybarnesvault @nicestgirlonline @jbuckybarnesfan @val-writesstuff @ozwriterchick @mandab44 @cringeycookies @ragin-cajun-fangirl @bohemianrhapsody86 @lillianacristina @cadencejames87 @teambarnes72 @ashychangeling @samuelkwinchester @nightofthesea @blackbirdwitch22 @mizunogamii @snapcapquartet @openup-yourmind @ashychangeling @krissydclayton93 @rivernell @futuristiczipperpeachcash @toomanyfandomsshreya @spn-obession

Tags added in comments (50 is the cap) : @whumptastic-world

[buckrecs]

HELLO so i was wondering if you have some winter soldier x reader fics?? ive been trying to find some but theyre all so short (still amazing stories tho) tysm, i really appreciate you making recs

Winter Soldier!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Into Cursed Pixie Dust by @buckets-and-trees

“He's credited over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years…” but you don’t know that. You run into him once, then again, again, again. Destiny draws you together, and neither of you can deny the pull. And yet though he never ages, you do.

Stalker by @you-are-my-sanctuary

In which Bucky has a crush on the new PR manager and is being an adorable stalker.

sleepwalking by @lanadelreyscokewhor3

when your boyfriend bucky wakes up with the winter soldier mindest, you do the only thing you know how to do- comfort him. he does the only thing he knows how to thank you- possessive sex. 

Colors in the Dark by @buckychrist

The world is without color, and that’s never bothered the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA didn’t have time for love and soulmates. At almost a century old, what are the odds that his soulmate was even still living?

ephemeral by @earlgreydream

the winter soldier shows up wounded at your door during a storm.

Purgatory by @wkemeup

While on a mission, Bucky becomes dissociated into the Winter Soldier. But instead of becoming a threat, his instinct is to protect.

a soldier gone rouge by @kinanabinks

the winter soldier has been sent to kill you. why, then, are you so wet?

Reverse Psychology by @waiting4inspiration

Bucky’s Winter Soldier mode is triggered. But you have something up your sleeves that will bring him back.

Comply by @gogolucky13

With Hydra, everyone is a prisoner.

Don’t Fear the Reaper by @gogolucky13

One night, the Winter Soldier appears at your place of work to eliminate a target. He leaves you alive, only to return a few months later.

Fatal Mistake by @rookthorne

A rogue agent amidst their ranks, it was the perfect plan, a perfect escape. It was their fatal mistake. 

Wolf, Partner, Gloves… by @revengingbarnes

HYDRA’s words make Bucky go into Winter Soldier mode. Then he meets you, and you make for him words that will bring him back to normal.

the dragon and her shadow by @kashimos-hajime

You fall in love with the Winter Soldier, and they punish you for it. Sentiment is weakness, but what can they do? After all, they cannot kill the Fist of H.Y.D.R.A. and mortal men cannot even begin to comprehend slaying a dragon.

take it easy, romeo by @sunmoonandeddie

The Soldat remembers one person through it all.

You Found Me by @samthemarvelfan

Bucky Barnes always came home to you. What happens when he doesn't? Worse than that...what happens when he forgets you existed?

Gone Again by @tokoyamisstuff

The Winter Soldier is lost and confused, unable to remember a single thing - except for the place where he’d find the woman that had become his safe space.

I’ll Come Back for You by @milliedazzledust

something where he is in winter soldier mode and protecting the scientist (y/n) where she is the only one who can sort of calm him down after a mission.

Void by @theeleggymeggy

Working as a nurse at HYDRA, you find yourself intervening when you catch Alexander Pierce striking The Asset. You don’t even know this man, but you can’t just stand and watch him be beat down.

Sweet Memory by @

SERIES

One’s Promised by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Living a double life was not a choice when one was the daughter of Alexander Pierce. Y/N was the youngest agents of SHIELD and one of the most respected threats within Hydra’s empire. No matter her allegiance, she was feared by both. Y/N Pierce would’ve tried to escape it all… if it hadn’t been for The Winter Soldier.

Soldat by @the-fallen-nightmare

Captain America and Reader have worked together at SHIELD for over a year. What happens when they have a run in with The Winter Solider and Steve finds out the secret Reader had been hiding from him all this time? And what happens when reader is captured by Hydra and The Winter Soldier, again. Can she make Soldat remember her or is her life with Steve just a slow fading memory now?

 

Breach by @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor (dark)

The reader finds herself in the Winter Soldier’s cross hairs during a lock down.

Reset by @lunarbuck

The government has fallen, Hydra has taken over. You were an agent of SHIELD long before the reign of terror began, and became a member of the resistance when they needed you most. Everything changes when the Winter Soldier captures you from your safe house.

Devil’s Backbone by @trashmenofmarvel

With your team dead and your mission failed, you’ve been taken by the assassin to an unknown location and are at the mercy of your cruel tormentors.

Krasavchik by @after-avenging-hours

While under orders from Karpov to test the Soldat’s loyalties to Hydra, you find yourself questioning your own loyalties.

Welcome Home… Soldat? by @winterarmyy

Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

[bucksangel]

Okay but imagine bunny has just been feeling so ill :((( and she’s so so sorry Bucky has to take care of her like this :( but she still tries to make him meals and keep up with her chores and be good for him :( even though he’s adamant that she not lift a finger until she’s better

Maybe he comes home one day and she’s crying and she’s apologizing because she knows he’s so stressed already with work and she’s just so so sorry for adding to that :(

And he’s just like “what are you talking about? why are you sorry”

And then she just hands him a positive pregnancy test and keeps apologizing for giving him one more thing to worry about

But he’s just immediately thrilled and is already thinking about how to decorate the nursery and he can’t wait to fuck the tears away while calling her his little mama

Anyway… I’ll see myself out… splendid writing as always my dear!!! <3

I’m literally laying on my stomach with my legs in the air and i’m kicking them and giggling, you’re so kind. And i looooove this idea so here’s a lil drabble :) (also you are always welcome to come back😭😭)

Title: An Odd Flu

pairing: sofdark!ceo!bucky x naive!assistant!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: 18+ so minors dni, mentions of vomiting and being sick, so much fluff, minor angst, hints of abortion though it’s not said outright (only 2-3 sentences), soft love-making, sir kink, petnames (bunny, mama (but not in a mommy kink way)), fingering, dom!bucky, sub!reader, aftercare

main masterlist | run little bunny masterlist

-

Originally, you thought it was an odd case of the flu. You weren’t running a fever and you weren’t feeling overheated or freezing cold, but you were so tired all the time that you’d have to take a midday nap in order to stay awake long enough to have dinner with James. Then it was the vomiting, you’d wake up around seven in the morning and rush to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach.

What made things better was that James had been there for you, waiting on you hand and foot whenever he was home. He’d draw you baths and massage your back to relieve your sore muscles. He’d make you soup and tea, going so far as to feed you by hand. He would even cancel meetings if you were feeling especially awful.

But that’s where the problem lies. Leading up to your flu James had been stressed. There was meeting after meeting, paperwork the height of the Empire State Building, and calls coming in after the previous one ended. You already felt physically bad, but the fact that he’s become stretched even thinner has you feeling bad emotionally.

This morning in particular has been the worst of the last three weeks. You gagged when you went downstairs and smelt the eggs James was cooking and had to rush to the bathroom. Your headache felt more like a migraine and all you really want to do is curl up next to James in bed and have him rub your back.

But that’s not possible today. James had a meeting that he had been trying to organize for the past month and it was with people outside of the U.S., so there was no way he could miss it. He still offered to stay home anyway and let his right-hand man, Steve, take over, but you nearly cried when he suggested it. You didn’t want to mess anything up just because you were sick. So, at your insistence, he left with a kiss on your forehead and made you promise to call him if anything got worse.

The only stipulation was that you had to see a doctor while he was gone. His personal doctor, because of course he’s rich enough to have a personal doctor, agreed to come over and check you out.

It was when she got there that things started to feel… off. She noted your symptoms with a glint in her eye that told you she immediately knew what was going on. When she put away her tools, she reached into a different pocket in her bag, giving it to you with a small, knowing smile.

It was a pregnancy test. And suddenly you’re questioning everything. The morning sickness, the aversion to foods you once craved, the crying spells.

Then, you remember your period was supposed to start two days ago. When it didn’t come you just assumed it was because you were ill. Now, though, things are making sense.

That doesn’t stop the insecurities from creeping in. James has been so busy with work lately and this is just one more stressor to add to that. And on top of that, you haven’t been able to do as much cleaning or cooking as you normally do, as much as you want to do. James has been insistent that you not overexert yourself by doing your daily tasks, but you feel so bad that he has to come home from a long day of work to the house being a mess.

When you go to the bathroom, your hands are shaking as you hold the test in the proper position. You’ve always wanted kids, and you can’t imagine having babies with anyone else except James. He always takes care of you, is always lovely and patient even when he’s exhausted and snapping at everyone else, he’s the perfect man and would make a perfect father.

Your hands continue to shake as you wash them, and your whole body vibrates with nerves as you walk back out into the living room to see Doctor Romanoff packing the rest of her things. Her eyes are sympathetic when she senses your anxiety, and she carefully takes the test from you.

The five-minute wait is agonizing, you’re unable to sit still so you’ve been pacing back and forth around the living room awaiting the results. And when the timer goes off, your whole body goes rigid. Your back is to Doctor Romanoff when you hear her hum thoughtfully.

You know what that sound means.

It takes all your effort to turn around, but when you do you find her arm outstretched, offering you the test.

“I’m not sure if it’s the answer you want, but I’m here for whatever you need.”

Hesitantly, you reach out to take the test from her. And, with a big breath, you look down to see the little pink plus sign staring back at you, and tears immediately fill your eyes. You know that James wants kids, he’s very bad at dropping hints when you go to the store and pass by the baby aisle. But, he’s overworked right now, constantly answering calls and responding to emails, and you’re doubting if now is the right time to have a baby.

“Um, th-thank you,” You say weakly, looking up at her with a wavering smile. She nods, and you lead her to the front door and wave her goodbye.

The tears start falling when the door closes behind her, and you quickly rush to your room. You’re staring at the test through your clouded vision, worrying yourself over how to tell him. You know you need to, you want to. So, once you’ve calmed down you pull out your laptop and search for different ideas.

“Bunny, I’m home!” James sounds tired, exhausted really, though you hope the smell of chicken and vegetables will help him wake up a little.

“I’m in the kitchen!” Your hands are shaking so badly when you take the pan out of the oven, and you have to hurry to place it on the counter before you drop it. Suddenly, James’ arms wrap around your waist, pressing his chest to your back and tucking his face into your neck to breathe in your perfume.

“What did I say about overexerting yourself?” His voice is soft, even though he’s clearly tired you know he’s about to march you upstairs and tuck you into bed. “You need your rest.”

“Well, I feel bad for not cleaning as much as I used to, and you’ve been so tired lately.” You pause, taking a large breath and turning in his arms so you can loop your arms around his neck. Your eyes start to water when you see his eyebrows furrow with concern. “Besides, it’s not going to go away any time soon. Google says that morning sickness can last up to 20 weeks and your doctor says I’m only five weeks along.”

James opens his mouth to say something, then promptly closes it when he registers your words. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his hold on you slightly loosening as he flounders for a minute. You can see in his eyes that he’s trying to piece together all of your symptoms from the last few weeks, and he’s a smart man, so it’s not a surprise that he figures it out pretty quickly.

“Are… Are you…?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Time seems to stand still, James seems to have frozen in place trying to sink in your words. And the longer the silence goes on the more worried you become, and a few tears slide down your cheeks.

“I-I know this isn’t the ideal time, and you’re extremely busy with work, but it just happened. I’m so sorry, I know this is just going to make you even more stressed, and I-I don’t know what you want to do, but –” You’re cut off by James pressing his lips to yours, his arms tightening around your body and pulling you into his chest.

The kiss is frantic, desperate, excited. And when James pulls back you can’t help but follow his lips with yours, trying to keep the kiss going. But James doesn’t give in, instead, he leans back enough to be able to look into your eyes. And his are glassy, filled with unshed tears as he brings up one hand to brush away yours with his thumb.

“Fuck, bunny. Don’t be sorry, never be sorry for this. Bunny, you’re – you’re giving me everything I’ve wanted since I first saw you.”

Loosening his arms around your waist, he drops to his knees, placing one hand on your hip and covering your stomach with the other. He stares at your belly with amazement, then pushes up your shirt so he can kiss your belly. Your hands immediately find their way into his hair, rubbing his scalp and running your fingers through it. After a couple of minutes, he finally moves back to look up at you.

“You’re really pregnant?” He smiles wide when you nod, more tears involuntarily sliding down your cheeks.

“I’m really pregnant.” Your voice wavers, but you’re finally at ease, no longer worried about how James would react.

“Fuck, bunny,” He whispers, slowly rising to his feet and grabbing your hips. He leans down, brushing his lips over yours and smiling a little when you whine. “You’re going to be such a pretty mama.”

James is unable to stop himself from lifting you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. You bury your face in his neck, kissing and nibbling on his skin until he gets to your room and lays you gently on the bed.

He doesn’t immediately climb onto the bed, he just stands at the end of the bed and stares at you with a mixture of love and lust. A few moments of silence goes by before you finally whine, wiggling your hips to hopefully entice him.

It works. James shrugs off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt, smirking at you the whole time because your eyes are roaming over his bare chest, and you’re practically drooling when he gets to his pants.

“See something you like?” He chuckles when you glare at him.

“You know I do, so please hurry up. I want you inside me.” While you were teasing, you know you’ve made a mistake when his smile drops and one of his eyebrows raises.

“Where are those manners, bunny? Just because I knocked you up doesn’t mean I’m not still your Sir.”

“I’m sorry, sir! I-I didn’t mean to - I just -“ You stumble over your words, not worried about him punishing you physically, but you know he’s not above edging you for hours on end, and you’re sure you’ll actually cry if that happens.

“I know, bunny,” James coos, finally stepping out of his pants and boxers and kicking them to the side. Before you can say anything he grabs you by your ankles, then tugs you down the bed until your legs are dangling off the edge. “It’s okay, you’re still my good little bunny.”

You moan at his words, a pleasant fuzziness clouding your head. And then James helps you sit up a little so he can unzip your dress — his favorite floral one — and slide the straps down your arms. When he lays you back down he pulls the dress down and off your body, groaning when he sees your bare body, just as he likes it. One of his rules about living with him is that you’re not to wear panties or a bra, you have to always be ready for him.

You and James have never been more grateful for it.

“Fuck, bunny,” James groans and takes hold of his achingly hard cock, squeezing the base. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Going to make such a beautiful mama.”

“Sir, please.” Your eyes water, this time from frustration. You need him inside you immediately.

“Okay, bunny, okay, don’t worry your pretty little head.” James climbs onto the bed and arranges your bodies so he’s sitting against the headboard and you’re sitting on his lap, your back to his chest and your pussy resting over his throbbing dick.

It takes everything in you not to roll your hips against his, the only reason you don’t is because you want to be good for him. He seems to recognize this and lovingly kisses your cheek, humming softly.

“My good girl, my perfect girl,” James mumbles into your ear, placing his hands on the inside of your thighs and spreading them wide open, hooking your ankles around his calves. He drags one hand up to rest lightly on your stomach, his other stroking your thigh, climbing higher and higher until you’re practically vibrating with need.

“Sir.” You’re already sounding pathetic, but, to be fair, James has that effect on you. With only a few touches he can render you dumb, but you love it.

“What do you need, bunny?” James asks as though he doesn’t already know what you need. What you crave.

“You, sir. Always you.” Tears spring to your eyes, damn your hormones.

James sighs behind you, trailing his lips to your cheek, down to your jaw, and then your neck.

“You have me, pretty mama. You always have me. I’m yours as much as you are mine.” His words make you sniffle, a few tears sliding down your cheeks.

You’re so lucky.

“Come here, bunny.” James urges you off his lap, maneuvering your bodies so you’re laying down and he’s hovering over you. He leans on one elbow and reaches up with his other hand to wipe away a few tears, smiling softly when you nuzzle his palm.

“Are you going to let me love on you, pretty mama?”

“Y-Yes, please. Please!” You’re slipping even further into that soft space where nothing else matters except for James, except for Sir.

James leans down, brushing his lips against yours and chuckling when you whine. The moment he finally kisses you he slides his hand down your neck to your breasts, lighting tugging at one of your nipples before sliding down further until he can spread your legs. He only pulls back when his hand makes it to the inside of one of your thighs, cooing when you whimper.

“It’s okay, bunny. I’m going to give you everything you need.” He’s slow and careful when he inches closer to your soaking pussy, running his thumb along your lips and dipping in to gently rub your clit.

He teases you for a long while, staring into your eyes when he dips two fingers in your hole easily due to how wet you are. He’s slow and methodical as he slips in another finger, kissing your cheeks every so often to catch stray tears. When he finally decides you’ve had enough teasing he starts thrusting his fingers faster, crooking them upwards to hit your special spot.

It doesn’t take long at all for you to cum, both because of James’ expert fingering and because of his husky voice whispering praises in your ear. And it’s an intense orgasm, your body going so far as to squirt liquid all over his hand.

It does take a bit for you to come down from your high, your mind is too clouded and fuzzy from pleasure. But when you do come to your senses you’re in the bathtub, your back to his chest as you soak in the warm water. James’ hands are on your stomach, rubbing over it as though it holds a priceless gem.

And, to be fair, there is. The little baby growing inside you is going to be the most loved child in the world.

“James?” Your voice is soft, not wanting to disturb the peace.

“Yes, bunny?” He kisses your neck, and you lean against him further.

“What, um—“ You wiggle a little, feeling his now only semi-hard cock against your lower back. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” James hums, suckling at your skin. “Tonight is about you, pretty mama.”

You’ll never understand how it’s possible to love someone as much as you love James, let alone be loved by such a perfect man, but you won’t question it.

tagging: @hisredheadedgoddess28

[samodivaa]

Deny the truth,set my world on fire (Part 1)

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Winter Soldier x Reader)

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ Part 2⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 3 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* Part 4⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ Warnings - heavy angst, betrayal, smut, non consensual, dom!Soldat. rough!Soldat Words - 2000

Bucky was already waiting on the couch, tormented by the decision he has made – to confront her. Y/n enters their shared apartment, carelessly smiling at him. She seemed so generous about her love – a constant presence and support since the fight on the airport years ago. Grace and patience and consideration is what she made him master once again, these little qualities are in his control, thanks to her kind soul. Y/n helped him forgive himself and he chose to return love and compassion, chose to fight his past. Wakanda was their secret - beautiful and peaceful. Her heart was born open and although his hands were empty at the time, he filled them with the soft fire made from the two ember eyes. The dreamy mind is full, overflows with tender memories… When she enters a room, it blazes with red, pink, roses, but behind her blossomed spirit stood a façade he was not aware of. The floral presence is poisoned, spreading into him. And just like the deadly nightshade, she is indeed is a poisonous flower.

"How long has this been going on?" he asks coldly, taking a sip of his bottle before putting it back on the table. A stressed dove, mournfully looking at her as he gets up. "How long?" he asks again. „Bucky, what is the matter with you?“ There won’t be a chance of escape, he steps closer, towering over her as some sort of a warning. He just came back to life, laying under the warmth of it and is already being burned by the person who he trusted the most. Abstained for far too long, he needs to hear her says it – he needs the truth to devour his life. "Can I ask what happened to your neck?" pointing to her neck, his tone is still neutral, but his eyes are exhausted by the phantom following his mind the past days. Love makes knots, now it is brutally tearing them apart. He ran from the darkness of his nightmares for so long, only to find himself in a situation darker still. „I don’t know“ she is wearing a turtleneck shirt, she hates those – inside she is crumbling as much as her lies. “You don’t know?” his tone strays to the realms of anger – it consumes him, fear ensnares her until her back hits the wall behind, Bucky not withdrawing from her face even for a moment “Who was it?“

"No one, Bucky" she manages to retain her posture, not giving him the satisfaction of telling the truth. The blade of her words hit a nerve. "You’re terrible at lying" He crosses his hands, nails digging into his arms. Silence looms for a while before he nods, his dearest love painting his misery and his eyes ache with the weight of the unspoken truth. “So no explanation, got it" „I don’t know how I got them…“ Bucky’s eyes narrow slightly, trying to shackle his intention of breaking something. "So you have no idea what happened to your neck? Are you making fun of me or do you have brain damage“ his tone finally rises as he takes the collar of her shirt between his metal fingers, pulling it down rashly to reveal the bite marks. The image wraps around his throat as a wreath of spikes. “Who did that to your neck, because I am sure that it was not me“ „Jesus Bucky, why are you so angry, I didn’t do anything. We literally spend most-“ He laughs devilishly, still holding her by the colar. “Just so many bad things happening in my life. Nothing important, nothing new, just one thing after another, you know?” There is no such thing as life for him , it's just catastrophe. Unmoored and alone, his eyes become full of tears. The only still part is his body. He gives her one more chance to say something, to explain herself in any way, but the silence is pain chiselled forever into his chest, it hurts more than words. "Don’t be angry, please…let me go…“ "Don’t be angry…don’t be angry" he whispers as a lullaby, staring into her teary eyes. His eyebrows furrowed at her audacity to even cry. "We shared a life and you to cheated on me" His favorite beauty and terror on myriad levels keep her silence. He decides to let go of her collar, his fingers clenching to fists as their drop weightlessly to the sides of his body. "You expect me to believe this…? Really, y/n?” he says , his expression is still angry, but it appears softer "If you didn’t want to tell me because you‘re afraid, it‘s fine. Just be honest and tell me that, why are you still lying? That hurts me more than you think." „I am not…“ He stands there unmoving, staring at her and it seems like he‘s still processing this realty of her not having any concern towards him. Her mind is resting whilst his is grieving, wondering and reasoning. He can’t gain control of his dreadful spirit, he is the shell he was back at Wakanda. A tear runs down from the wet, dreamful eyes, landing on his cheek as he looks down, trying to hide it from her. Bucky takes a step away from her and rubs his eyes. His hands are shaking and it‘s obvious that he doesn’t want to cry in front of her. Their love is his apparition, a figment of his imagination. He observe her for a moment, he is dying in that house, buried underneath the floor of their shared past and she just watches it unfold. Bucky finally shakes his head in disbelief. "So you‘re telling me you have no idea where that bruise came from?" a weak laugh escapes his lips, choking back a sob. „You’re lying, I know it“ he says in a calm voice, but there was a quiet threat hidden beneath it. „I don’t want to leave, Bucky“ "And I don‘t want to get cheated on" he counters with an angry scream as his pain is infinite at this point. All kind of thoughts stirring inside of him. „I won’t say it wasn’t meant to be, because it was. We were. Only for a short while, maybe. But we were.“ It makes him tremble to remember their daily life, but now he is unsure which pain is worse: the shock of what happened or the ache for what never will. „I can’t tell you...I can’t...I will leave“ she whispers, having found a comfort in hiding. "Fine, leave then!” Bucky snarls, before he spins around as his heavy footsteps resonate through the quiet room, but he stops himself to look at her for the last time – the end of the line.

Bucky watches her leave, already nostalgic for his love. He doesn’t say a word, not even bothering to close the door as he stands in the doorstep, watching her go. Y/n notices him staring from the darkness of the doorway as she makes her way into the world. Bucky’s inner self is shutting down more and more, as though to protect himself, but it became inaccessible even to himself. Over the next couple of days, Bucky shuts himself completely in his lonely home. He only leaves the apartment to buy alcohol and some food. His days are spent either drinking or sleeping, and when he‘s awake and sober, he just sits on the couch blankly, staring at the wall. He is composed of nothing, but illness – a phantom built out of pain. The days turn to weeks. With his heart broken, he despises life. Rising from a grave with each morning, wallowing in his sadness and alcohol. („What went wrong...Did I do something wrong?”) he wonders for weeks repeatedly, tears again rolling down his cheeks. „What did I do to deserve this“ he screams, slamming his metal fist into the wall, there is nothing but a stain in his heart, it grew – infecting the whole heart. He slowly slides down, sitting on the ground as he buries his head into his arms and starts to cry.

- Two days before she left - „Bucky, baby…I don’t wanna do anything tonight, let’s just sleep“ he was getting harder and harder, pressing into her back to let her know. He whispers in her ear, but the voice is huskier than usual and filled with seduction „Цветок...“ (Flower) Bucky’s control is slipping once again and y/n gups at the realization. The metal grip tightens on her hip, drawing her even closer to his clothed cock. Fingers pass through the fabric of the nightdress, pulling it upwards to reveal her butt cheeks. His warm hand, spilled under her body proceeding to lightly trace his fingers over her nipple. She knows to her remove the panties by herself, not wanting to anger the Soldier from the very beginning as it happened last time. He groans, closing his eyes to savor the scent of her hair. Vibranium fingers digs his into her soft skin, leaving prints of evidence. „No, don’t…please…he will see“ she desperately tries to voice her concern, knowing there is no way of fighting him in this state. „Пусть он увидит…“ (let him see) His breath fanned the skin of her neck, sending chills to the bone.

He dragged his length through her wetness, pushing in fully leaving y/n with no time to adjust. Tears roll down her beautiful face, why this keeps on happening? The warm touches of his human arm move to from her nipple to her stomach „Я хочу ребенка...да.“ (I want a baby…yes) She takes a deep breath, sometimes regret settles in for not telling Bucky that the Winter Soldier was very present and real. He never seems to remember, they operate as different people. She whimpers at the cold touch to her clit, he was flicking it, making her body shake. His hand returns to her hip, grabbing it harshly as he starts thrusting deeply. His pace becomes erratic, being closer to his orgasm. Soldat forcefully holds her in place so he can fill her with hot cum. Her reality hurts so much. She wants to get away, but when she had tried before – resulted in him being close to sadistic. His fingers trail to her hair, removing it from her neck and he sinks his teeth. Goosebumps trickle up there, from fear, from pain as he slowly turns her head towards him – there is no sight of Bucky.

[cthulhu-calling]

Camisado 1

Dark!Steve Rogers x female!Reader

Summary : You always thought you’d marry someone closer to your age, but you couldn’t complain. Although Steve was nearly seven years older than you, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner. He was kind, sweet and had always looked out for you ever since you moved into the neighbourhood at fifteen years of age. At first, you assumed it was an elder brother-ly thing. Beating up the boys at school who were bothering you, those who asked you to accompany them to the movies even after you said no. But on your nineteenth birthday, when he kissed you in the kitchen while your party continued on in the backyard, everything changed. You’d been going out since then and he’d made it clear to you as well as your parents that he planned on making an honest woman out of you.  You and Steve had the perfect life, you couldn't ask for anything more. But that doesn't mean he couldn't.

Warnings : 1950's AU, smut, misogyny, factual inaccuracies, lots of talk of pregnancy (seriously, this is a major content warning)

Author’s Note : Reader has no specified race or body type. It has all the period typical sexism but considering that when I imagine readers, they're always woc, there will be no period typical racism. Not beta'd so all mistakes are my own. I tried to do as much research on life in 1950's America so please be kind and let me know what you think!

Word Count : 5k

masterlist

You fell back on the couch, deciding on taking a small break after having spent the whole morning dusting and vacuuming the house. You still had to do the dishes and hang the clothes out to dry. Your mama always said, a man’s home is a reflection of the woman he’s with, and so you made sure to keep the house in near perfect condition. You looked up at the clock, a wedding gift from Steve’s ma. You adored Sarah Rogers, she was almost like a second mother to you. It was already past noon and you really needed to get a move on. You had less than an hour to take a quick shower and then make a quick lunch for you and Steve to take to the garage. 

Finishing your shower in record time, you quickly add chicken soup, flour, pepper and cayenne into the slow cooker followed by stirring in the chicken and veggies. You knew Steve always enjoyed your slow cooked chicken a la king. You could leave it on and it would be ready just in time for dinner. Packing a quick ham and cheese sandwich for the both of you, you placed it in your bag before checking your appearance one last time in the mirror. You had on a sleeveless white blouse with a blue, floral-a-line circle skirt and black kitten heels along with a classic red lip. Steve always preferred you in skirts and dresses as opposed to pants or trousers. 

With ten minutes before the clock struck one, you quickly made your way out of the house and began the short walk to the garage where Steve worked. You always brought Steve his lunch and spent the half hour of his lunch break with him and today was no exception. You’d been married for just over a year now and the two of you had decided that you’d wait for a while before starting a family, wanting to just enjoy each other’s company for a while before you added children to the mix. But it was established that you both wanted kids. While two would be more than enough for you, Steve wanted three, at the very least. 

You always thought you’d marry someone closer to your age, but you couldn’t complain. Although Steve was nearly seven years older than you, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner. He was kind, sweet and had always looked out for you ever since you moved into the neighbourhood at fifteen years of age. At first, you assumed it was an elder brother-ly thing. Beating up the boys at school who were bothering you, those who asked you to accompany them to the movies even after you said no. But on your nineteenth birthday, when he kissed you in the kitchen while your party continued on in the backyard, everything changed. You’d been going out since then and he’d made it clear to you as well as your parents that he planned on making an honest woman out of you. 

And exactly three years later, on your twenty-second birthday, he asked you to marry him. And you said yes, of course. The two of you got married two months after that day, in an intimate ceremony with only the closest of friends and family. Steve worked as a mechanic at Mr. Stark’s garage, making more than enough for the two of you. After the monthly expenses, the mortgage on the house and your savings were covered, you had just enough left every month to go out for a fancy dinner and to the movies once. 

As you reached the garage, you spotted Steve bent over the open bonnet of a car, tinkering around. Taking this opportunity to startle him, you walk up behind him as slowly and noiselessly as possible before placing a hand on his shoulder, calling out his name, causing him to startle and hit his head on the bonnet. He curses loudly before turning around, the anger evident in his eyes which burns out a little when he sees you. “You should know better than to do something like that doll,” he whispers in your ear, pulling you close by your waist before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You feel the heat rising to your face as you look towards your feet, licking your lips as you mumble out an apology. 

“Why don’t you take a seat doll, I’ll be done here in five,” he says before continuing to work on the engine. You nod as you take a seat a little distance away, pulling out the book you got from the library last week, smoothing out the dog-eared edge before diving back into the book. Just as you were about to finish the chapter you’d been reading, Bucky walks out of Mr. Stark’s office, snatching the book right out of your hands. “Hey!” you huff out a protest, reaching out for the book that he proceeded to hold above his head. Laughing heartily at your antics, Steve comes up behind Bucky to snatch the book and hands it back to you before sitting down and pulling you onto his lap, wrapping his arm around your waist possessively. 

Rolling his eyes at that, Bucky continues “Nat needs y’all to come over for dinner tomorrow night,” he says as he opens his lunch, digging into the food. Bucky and Natasha were Steve’s friends and had become yours too when you started dating him. The two had been married for five years now. Natasha was probably the most badass woman you’d ever met and while you hoped your mama never caught you saying that, it was true. She was headstrong and never took any crap from anyone. She was a nurse and while you admired her, you were a bit envious of the fact that she was a working woman. Steve didn’t allow you to work. He believed that it was his job to earn money to support you and while you would have still loved to work, you understood that things couldn’t always go your way. 

“What for? We’re going to my ma’s tomorrow night,” he questioned as you handed him his sandwich, before grabbing your own. 

“Go to Sarah’s some other day. Nat’s going to prepare a feast and she needs you there. Sam and Wanda and Clint and the family are coming too. Come with your appetites prepared,” he said, finishing off the last of his lunch before dusting his hands off and getting back to work, “No excuses, be there by seven. And for god’s sake Rogers, look presentable.” 

“Beat it, punk,” Steve yelled as Bucky moved away with a wave of his middle finger. You looked at Steve, giggling, before promising, “I’ll drop by and make her some soup for tonight. I’ll spend the night too if need be. Don’t worry, we’ll go to Nat’s tomorrow,” you kissed his cheek before removing yourself from his lap, packing up your bag. “I should get going, let you get back to work. I have lots to do at home,” you wave a goodbye, Steve watching your hips sway. 

Steve knew you were the perfect dame for him. He loved you more than anyone he’d ever loved before. He knew you’d be the perfect wife and mother to his children. He wanted you just to himself for a little time before the two of you started a family because he knew once he got you pregnant, he planned on keeping you round and full of himself for as long as possible. Just the thought of you barefoot and pregnant under his roof, cooking for him and his children, your breasts swollen and heavy with milk for his child. Just the thought of you pregnant and oh, so sensitive because of him, it all turned him on more than you could ever imagine. 

He vowed to start trying to get you pregnant soon. 

*

By the time you got done with all your chores around the house, you were exhausted. Dinner was done about halfway and the chicken noodle soup for Sarah was done and packed for you to take to her. She wasn’t feeling too well the past few days so you and Steve were going to visit her tomorrow with dinner, just to check up on her. But now, you’d already called and told her about your plans for tomorrow evening and that you’d swing by today before dinner. She was rather accommodating, claiming that the two of you needed to spend time with people your age. And she sounded much better as well. Her cold seemed to have improved and she sounded more energetic. 

At half past five, you decided to get to Sarah's house. She lived close enough, just a couple of houses down the street. When you and Steve got married, you decided to get a house close enough to both his ma and your parents as well. Which reminded you that you needed to visit your mama soon as well. You had borrowed her Vogue knitting books, and it was high time you gave them back. You quickly make the ten minute walk to her house and let yourself in using your set of keys to enter the house, not wanting Sarah to move around too much but to your surprise, you find her in the kitchen, humming a tune you couldn’t quite recognise, cooking what smelled like her famous lasagna causing your mouth to water instantly, the response Pavlovian at this point. 

“You’re supposed to be in bed ma, not prancing around the kitchen doing only the Lord knows what,” you say as she turns around, giving you a wide smile. 

“Don’t you dare sass me kid. Is that really how you greet your poor old mother in law?” she asked as she walked out of the kitchen, pulling you into a tight hug. Giving you a final squeeze, she grabbed your hands in her frail ones, leading you towards the living room. 

Stopping her halfway, you let go of her hand before holding up the thermos full of warm soup that you had brought. 

“I’m going to put this away for now. Heat it up before you eat it, okay?” you instructed as you moved towards the kitchen, putting the soup to the side before moving your hair out of your face and tying on an apron. 

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing missy?” she said as she followed you into the kitchen, thin arms crossed across her chest.

“Doing your dishes, what else?” 

“Is anything I say going to make you stop?” she wondered out loud. 

“Fat chance,” you said as you rolled your eyes. 

“Well, you better hang around until the lasagna is done, I’ll pack some for Steve. Speaking of which, where is that boy?,” she said.

“Still at the shop I believe,” you answered, almost done with the few dishes. 

“I see,” she says, an odd look passing over her face but she doesn’t say anything further so you continue to work in a comfortable silence. 

Wiping your hands when you were done, you removed your apron and put it back in its place. “Alright ma, I should get going. Steve must be back by now,” you said as you took your bag, a large oven dish of lasagna in your hands, moving towards the door, only to be stopped by her. 

“Tell me my dear, have y’all thought about babies yet?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you look at her with a confused look. “We’ve decided to wait. And we’ve only been married a year now,” you answer. 

Laughing lightly, she squeezes your hand in hers before letting go. “Alright. You tell that boy to come see me soon, okay?” You nod and wave goodbye as you start walking home. Checking the time on your watch, you’re horrified to find it’s already quarter to seven and increasing your pace, almost running to get back home before Steve. You reach home with just five minutes before the clock strikes seven, having just enough time to freshen up and fix your hair before the doorbell rings. 

At the sight of you, a smile quickly overtakes his face which you can’t help but reciprocate. As soon as he walks in he has his arms around you, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You quickly push him away with a giggle, “At least wash your hands first!” 

“I can’t help myself when it comes to you,” he says, squeezing your ass which causes you to squeak. Laughing, he hangs his cap and goes to freshen up as you get to setting dinner out. 

At the table, you tell Steve of his mom’s request and he agrees, saying he’ll go see her on Sunday. 

“Any clue what this impromptu get-together at Bucky and Nat’s is about ?” 

“I tried but couldn’t get anything outta him. Guess we’ll only know tomorrow,” he shrugged. 

“I should call and ask if she needs any help,” you said after dinner once you were done with clearing the table and putting the leftovers in the fridge. Steve was in the living room with a book and a beer. You couldn’t afford a television just yet but Steve had been saving up and according to him, you’d be able to get one in a month or two. 

He hummed absentmindedly, which meant he wasn’t really paying attention. Sighing, you quickly rang Nat up. It was Bucky who answered the phone. 

“Hey, is Nat there?” you asked. 

“Sure, I’ll just put her on,” he said and you could hear him calling out to Natasha in the background. 

“Hello dear, to what do I owe this pleasure?” she laughed. 

Giggling, you reply “Just wanted to check if you needed any help for tomorrow. It was rather impromptu and I heard that everyone is coming,” to which she only huffed and said “I just require you and Steve to show up, that’s all. Now I got loads to do honey, I’ll see you tomorrow!” she said as she swiftly hung up leaving you a little stunned. 

“That was weird,” you think out loud as you sit down next to Steve on the couch, his arm immediately draping itself around your shoulder and pulling you into his body. You snuggle closer, a content sigh slipping from your lips. 

“Don’t think so much, it’s probably nothing,” he soothes, his fingers playing with the collar of your blouse. Oh, so he was listening. 

“But-“ you start, immediately silenced by Steve shushing you. “Enough about this. We’ll go there tomorrow and find out,” he chastises, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

Deciding to just let it go for now, you untangle yourself from Steve who lets you go albeit a bit reluctantly and get ready for bed. It takes you some time to fall asleep but with Steve’s arm around your waist, holding you close, you manage to get a few hours of rest. 

*

You fixed your pretty yellow sundress and checked your hair and makeup one last time in the mirror. Modest but tempting. Perfect. Just as you were about to call out to Steve, he emerged from the bath, freshly shaved. Still not dressed, you tilt your head towards the cupboard, urging him to get dressed quickly. 

Rolling his eyes playfully, selecting a simple khaki and the baby blue shirt you’d left out for him. Steve combed his hair back, following you out of your bedroom, watching you pack up his ma’s lasagna. You knew it was Bucky’s favourite, it was almost everybody’s favourite, having not let him eat any of it last night. 

You knew Nat hadn’t asked you to bring anything with you but your mama would never let you leave home for a party without a little something for the hosts. So here you were, outside Nat and Bucky’s door, a tray of lasagna in your hands and Steve’s arms around your waist. Bucky opened the door with a wide smile, a bottle of beer in his hand. 

“Come on in, kids!” He almost yelled, definitely a little tipsy. Smiling at him, you stepped inside and Steve closed the door behind the two of you. 

Sam and Wanda sat on the couch, each nursing their own bottle of beer and a glass of wine respectively. She smiled and waved at you, patting the couch on her side, inviting you to take a seat. Holding up the lasagna, you tilted your head, motioning towards the kitchen. 

Natasha and Wanda both drank occasionally. You didn’t though. Steve didn’t like you drinking, not even a beer on the occasion. It was all your fault really. 

It was your best friend from school Ella’s twentieth birthday. Just you and a couple of other people from your class decided to surprise her with a little get together near the lake by the old lighthouse. You knew there would be alcohol but as long as you didn’t drink too much and were aware of your surroundings, things would be fine right? 

Wrong. Steve had been by your parents house, looking for you and being told exactly where and with who you were, he couldn’t control his rage. He didn’t approve of ‘Ella and her posse of bimbos’, as he put it. You knew that and while you didn’t agree with him, it was the reason you couldn’t tell him about your whereabouts that night. 

When he finally found you, you were sitting on a little picnic blanket, half drunk bottle of beer in your hands, chatting away with Ella and her boyfriend. You were a little tipsy but immediately sobered up at the sight of Steve storming towards you. 

You quickly got up, dropping the bottle as it rolled off somewhere, the sound of your heart beating and the blood rushing through your veins deafening. Ella tried to intercept him, trying to get him to stop and talk but he just ignored her and continued to walk towards you, grabbing hold of your upper arm. You yelped loudly at how tight his grip was, trying to get him to let go of you as he dragged you away from the lake and towards his motorcycle. 

At a distance from the lake, he finally let go of your arm, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. 

“Ste-,”

“Shut up. I don’t want a word out of you,” he spat. 

You quickly shut your mouth, taking a step back from him. 

“How many times, huh? How many fucking times have I told you to stay away from that girl? And yet, here you are, dressed like a slut, drinking away with that stupid whore and her friends,” he says viciously, taking a step forward for each one you took back until you were backed up against a tree. 

You were terrified. You’d never seen him this angry before, at least not at you. 

“You are never to see that girl again, do you understand?” he barks, causing you to nod your head so hard, you thought your neck might snap. 

“Good. Let’s get you home. Put this on,” he says as he holds up his jacket for you which you promptly slip on, following him to his motorcycle. You don’t even realise when you start crying, the tears streaming down your face making the skin burn against the harsh wind. 

When you finally reached home, you got off wordlessly, shrugging off his jacket which was hanging from your smaller frame and handing it to him. You turned to walk back towards the front door only to be stopped by him grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward him. 

At the sight of the wet trails streaking your face, a flash of guilt passes in his eyes but it’s gone just as quickly as it arrived. 

“You know I’m saying this because I care about you, okay? I don’t want anything bad happening to you, you know that right?” 

You can only nod numbly, as he gives you a small smile and a peck on the lips before gesturing for you to go back in, watching you till you’ve gone inside and locked the front door. 

Of course, you wouldn’t talk to him for days after that. Ignoring his phone calls or having your mama pick up the phone, telling him you weren’t home when he came knocking. 

You made him grovel and plead, letting him know just how angry you were but in the end, you gave in. You loved him, with his flaws and all. 

Pulling yourself out of your little daydream, you walked towards the kitchen where you could hear Natasha moving about. As you walked, you admired the picture frames that adorned the walls. You loved Nat and Bucky’s house, so happy and full of memories. You couldn’t wait to have that with Steve. 

“Now, didn’t I tell you not to get anything? I’m cooking up a storm here, who’s gonna eat all of this?” She questioned, her hands on her hips, over mitts on her hands and a frilly apron on. 

You laughed and moved closer to give her a quick peck on her cheek, putting the lasagna on the counter. 

“It’s Sarah’s lasagna. You don’t have to worry about it going to waste,” you tried. 

“Oh, I know. But you know my cooking can’t compare to hers!” She complained mockingly. Sharing a laugh, you start helping about, feeling odd just standing there doing nothing. She lets you help but refuses to tell you why she wanted everyone to come over when you tried to  ask. 

You had to give it to her though, she really had outdone herself. As you helped her take the food to the table, you were in awe. Tuna noodle casserole, beef stroganoff and mashed potatoes completed with the perfect buttermilk pie. The sight alone made your mouth water and tummy grumble. 

At the delicious scent wafting from the dining table, everyone slowly poured in, each of them grabbing a plate and loading it up. You couldn’t wait to dig in, everything looked mouthwatering. Jokes were made and compliments given, you made to take a bite but were immediately stopped by the conversation taking place across from where you and Steve sat. 

Bucky was urging Natasha to take a bigger helping of the mashed potatoes. While that was not particularly surprising, the next bit caused everyone to stop and stare. 

“You really should take some more,” he says, adding another heap of the potatoes to her plate, “you’re eating for two now.” 

You’d never heard silence quite this loud, everyone stopped midway, staring at Natasha and Bucky. Not Clint’s children of course, they couldn’t be bothered by much. They were busy stuffing their little faces with the feast Nat had prepared. 

After a minute or two of utter silence, a cheer broke out and Natasha and Bucky sighed, exchanging small smiles of relief. 

You, along with Laura and Wanda got up almost simultaneously, rushing around to envelop Natasha in a giant bear hug, who had started crying at this point. The boys were all congratulating Bucky, patting him on the back and making lewd jokes. The children seemed clueless as to what the fuss was all about but declared their merriment by making various noises as well. 

When everyone has settled down, continuing with their meals, the relative silence is broken by Wanda, “We get to be godparents, right?” She questions, motioning between herself and Sam. That’s when Steve pipes up, “You guys are already godparents to Cooper. I think it’s our turn.” 

“Exactly! What do you say Natty?” You wiggle your eyebrows playfully at her. 

Huffing a laugh, she adds “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Can we just enjoy this lovely meal I worked so hard to make?” 

This shuts everyone up, again passing praises and compliments her way. Once the meal came to a close, it was already well past the kids' bedtime so Clint and Laura took off, followed by Sam and a rather tipsy Wanda. You stayed back to help Natasha clean up, despite her protests. 

“You’re a pregnant woman and I’m already mad enough you did all of this by yourself. You should be ashamed of yourself Barnes, letting your pregnant wife do all the work,” you chastised. 

“Sorry ma’am,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Steve chuckles but otherwise stays quiet. 

When you’re done with most of the dishes and having packed up the few leftovers, you and Steve take your leave, walking back hand in hand in the silent darkness. 

Your Steve, you know him well. And you can tell, just by one look in his face that there’s a lot on his mind. You know better from experience that when he’s in such moods, it’s best to leave him alone. He’ll tell you what’s on his mind before bed, you know it for sure. 

So for now, you just walk home, swinging your joined hands back and forth as he’s lost in his own head. 

Done getting ready for bed, you slip under the covers, waiting for Steve to join you. You don’t have to wait long, just as you pick up your book for some reading before bed, he slips under the covers, snatching the book from your hand. Your protest is short lived as he pulls you close into a bruising kiss. 

His lips travel down your throat, trailing wet kisses down to your collarbone before you stop him as he moves to pull your silk slip over your head. 

“What’s on your mind? You’ve been quiet all evening,” you grab his cheek in your hand, making him look at you. 

He sighs loudly, moving away to sit back against the headboard. 

“C’mon Steve, tell me.” 

You move closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Just as you’re about to urge him to say something he interrupts you. 

“Let’s have a baby.” 

You’re quiet for a while and he takes your silence as a request to continue. 

“It’s been on my mind for so long. We’ll start with one. For now. I can’t wait for our home to be filled with little ones. I just —I’ve been thinking of this for so long. The fact that Nat and Bucky are expecting just solidified my decision. Don’t you want a baby?” 

Swallowing, you plan out your words carefully before opening your mouth. 

“We’re not ready Stevie. You know this. We’ve been married what, a year now? I thought we decided to wait,” you try. 

“But I don’t want to wait anymore! Can’t you see? There’s no time like now to start trying,” he raises his voice and you flinch away from him. 

“I don’t know Stevie. I’m really tired, we’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay?” 

“No!” He shouts, “I want to talk about this now. We’re ready. I know we’re ready,” he reaffirms, grabbing you by your arms to hold you close. 

“Steve, we’re not. We’re nowhere ready for a baby. We’ve just begun saving, can we even support a child right now?” You try to make him see some sense but it backfires tremendously. 

“Really? I work so hard for you, for us, but that’s not enough for you, is it? You’re such an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?” His tone and his hurtful words immediately cause your eyes to fill, a couple errant tears slipping down. His grip on you is painful, almost bruising.

At the sight of your eyes brimming, tears streaking their way down your pretty face, his anger dissipates and his face fills with worry. He moves forward to cup your face in his hands, but you flinch away from him, pulling the covers back and stepping out of bed with your pillow in hand. 

“I-uh- I’ll take the couch,” you stutter out, sniffling between every word. 

“No, no, no. Baby I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry, please come back to bed,” he says, scrambling out of bed as you continue towards the door. 

“No, please baby. I’m sorry, please come back to bed,” he pleads, getting on his knees in front of you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and holding you in place, his chin resting on your soft stomach. 

He looks up at you with eyes quickly filling with tears, threatening to overflow. Your heart melts at the sight and you close your eyes, nodding your head slowly and he sighs, burying his face into your stomach, his tears causing your slip to dampen slightly. 

“I’m so sorry baby, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry,” his voice comes out muffled but you understand him anyway. 

You nod your head, telling him you’ll think about kids. You really would. That night he held you close after making love to you, almost as if he was afraid you’d slip out into the darkness in the middle of the night. He whispered the deepest of apologies and praises into your ear as he drew orgasm after orgasm from your prone body. 

You knew he regrets what he said. You were well aware that he wanted a big family. Growing up, it had always been just him and his Ma. His father was hardly ever home and when he was, he was too drunk to care about much. He aspired to be everything that his father wasn’t, a real family man. 

And you know you want to give him that but you need some time, you haven’t even been married that long. And you will think about it much more seriously now. What’s wrong with having a child? He works so hard for you, to make sure you’re not left needing anything, can’t you do at least this much for him? You’re home all day anyway, it’s not like you have a job like Nat. Plus, you’re lucky to have him and that he cares about you and what you want. Most men wouldn’t have bothered asking their wives if and when they wanted children. You find your resolve weakening. You will tell him that you’re ready to start trying and it’s unlikely you will fall pregnant on the first try. You have some time, you tell yourself all the while trying to smother that voice inside you that whispers, ‘You should wait’. 

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

would you ever write something filthy for winter soldier? no pressure btw!

Experiments

Pairing || Winter Soldier x Female!Reader

Summary || HYDRA conducts sexual experiments on specimen The Winter Soldier.

Word Count || 2901

Contents & Warnings || Smut, Angst, Dark Themes — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, non-con, explicit content/language, sub!soldat, implied torture/murder/blood, restraints, unprotected vaginal sex, size kink, oral (male receiving), handjob, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, overstimulation, exhibition, creampie, bodily fluids.

Authors Note || The answer is yes sweet nonnie :D And I really love how this turned out. This is my first time writing for WS so please be kind :) Remember, read the warnings! I’m not responsible for your content consumption. Don’t like it, don’t read. And definitely don’t slap a label on just to be petty. There are no [ ] in the text below btw. Also apologies for no readmore cut. It’s currently bugged out and fucks up the text below.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Masterlist

You had no idea how long you had been in this stuffy and dim-lit room. Minutes? Hours? Days? It felt like an eternity but also like no time had passed at all. It was easy to lose track of it when you had no inclination whether it was day or night out. The room and its surroundings were bleak and dull, giving nothing away about your location.

How did you end up in this situation? Naked with strangers watching—discussing, researching, contemplating. And with a stranger's cock in your grasp? Making him come again, again, and again—an endless cycle of climax.

It all seemed like a blur now. A past from another time. A dream? A nightmare?

They promised good pay. Money that was beyond imaginable, but you had to take this with you to the grave. This experiment that you yourself had signed up for could never reach the light of day.

Tell anyone, and they will torture and mutilate you beyond recognition. Killing and dumping your body in a ditch.

Although the men were vicious beyond anything, they told you countless times that under any circumstances, you could leave. You were not here out of force. They would keep you safe. You had signed up for this, and whenever you wanted to terminate the deal you had sealed, you were allowed. But you could never, ever tell another living soul about what you had seen or experienced.

It felt like a week, but in reality, it had only been a day or so since these men had come and picked you up from your home—blindfolding and plugging your ears. Due to their safety and yours, you could not know where you were being taken.

After hours of traveling by car, train, and plane—taking all transportation possible—you had arrived. To where you did not know. A military bunker of some sort, possibly. Somewhere cold and emotionless. An unknown country.

Your blindfold and plugs were removed, and you sat in a dark room. A hanging bulb from the ceiling cascaded a weak source of light throughout the space. The chair and table were metal and cold.

Opposite you sat a man dressed in uniform. Narrowing your eyes and inspecting him further, you saw it was the same man you had come in contact with when you had signed up for this mysterious experiment.

“Papers for you to sign,” he uttered in a thick Russian accent. His face and tone were stoic.

He explained the contract in detail. And there was a particular phrase that stood out to you. That made no sense. The Asset. It was mentioned numerous times.

You knew what you had come here for. A sexual experiment of some sort. But nowhere in the contract did it say who you were conducting it with. There was no name. No details about any appearance or anything. Only that you would perform with someone or something named The Asset.

“He has no name.” The man spoke. “He is not a person. Do not try to humanize him. He is a tool. A weapon. Nothing more. But if you have to call him something, you may refer to him as Soldat. And do not worry. He cannot hurt you.”

“Why am I doing this? W-what’s the purpose?” You muttered while avoiding his emotionless gaze.

“We have to experiment and see if he is breakable. If someone can ever bend his will and programming with sexual torture.”

Your train of thoughts and flashbacks were cut short by the sound of fingers tapping on glass behind you and the roar of metal chains rattling in front of you.

“Please continue, miss,” the same thick Russian accent bellowed from behind.

“O-oh,” you exhaled as you came back to your senses. The coldness of the small room pierced your naked skin. The sounds of inaudible chatter in a foreign language and beeping of instruments flowed through your ears. And your eyes adjusted to what was in front of you.

Soldat.

He held all your attention now as you peered at him through your thick lashes. The surroundings were not relevant anymore. The people watching and observing were not relevant anymore—only him.

The beefy and nude man was held in chains. His arms restrained so that he couldn’t touch you. Couldn’t hurt you, for that matter.

His head hung low, peering down at you. His long hair cascaded down his face and stuck to his sweaty forehead, but you could still see some of his features. He held an intense expression. It was hard to decipher. His jaw clenched tightly, and his dark eyes were wild. Pain? Pleasure? Did he actually enjoy the sexual torture? It was hard to tell. He never spoke. Deep groans and grunts that rumbled in his throat were the only sounds to ever come out of him. The sounds gave you an impression that he may actually enjoy this vicious ordeal.

Although powerless, he looked powerful and rough from where you were positioned on your knees. Fuck, he was huge. All of him. God, he was hot. The sight in front of you was like a lewd porno.

You and he were covered in cum, sweat, and spit—a concoction of erotic slickness. Hot and disgusting at the same time. It made the acts you performed on him that much effortless.

You felt the heaviness of his cock in your grasp again as you returned to yourself. And once you tugged on it tighter, he roared loudly and clenched his body tight and hard. The muscles underneath his skin became deliciously defined. And the plates on his bionic arm whirled every time he flexed.

His red and angry cock twitched in pain and pleasure. Raw due to your repeated acts on him—handjob, blowjob, and having him nestled deep inside your pussy. Making him come again and again.

The thick and protruding veins along his shaft pulsed underneath your palms as you jerked him faster. Tighter. Sloppier.

“Fuck,” you mumbled as you took in the sight of his impressive cock, making your mouth water at the anticipation of having him on your tongue again.

With a needy moan, you took him in your mouth. Suckling his head as both your hands sloppily worked the rest of him. Swirling your tongue on his sensitive tip as your lips wrapped beautifully around him.

Soldat groaned as you sucked him to perfection—cum and spit dribbling out of your mouth and making a beautiful mess all over yourself and him.

His hands may be bound, but the rest of his body was boundless, and he bucked his hips into your mouth. The tip of his cock tickled the back of your throat. You coughed and struggled, and he rumbled deeply in response. Seeming satisfied with you choking.

When you couldn’t handle the abuse to your throat anymore, you release his cock with a pop. You spat the excess saliva onto his length and let the slickness coat the entirety of him.

As both your hands worked his entire cock again—base to tip, you took his heavy sack into your mouth—licking and sucking. Enjoying the weight of his balls on your tongue—moaning against him.

You peered up at him again with hooded eyes. He seemed to enjoy the dirty sight—your mouth and hands full of his cock and balls. A messy perfection kneeling before him.

A smirk tugged on his lips before he hissed sharply through his teeth as you pulled his sack harshly and then let it drop from your mouth.

He was close again. Nearing his fifth? Or was it maybe the sixth orgasm since you started? You had lost count.

The Russian officer was right. Soldat was no ordinary man. No one would have been able to withstand so many orgasms in such a short time. It was extraordinary to witness. Could he really keep climaxing till the end of times?

Soldat’s chest heaved as the torturous pleasure built. His thick thighs trembled, and his cock twitched, anticipating another earth-shattering and messy release.

He bellowed a cry through his gritted teeth as he came hard once again. The chains rattled as he tugged on them. He bucked his stuttering hips into your grasp as he spurted ropes and ropes of thick white cum from his red tip and made a mess all over himself and you. The sounds of pleasure and torture—grunts, groans, roars, and subtle whines, surfaced despite his clenched jaw.

You never stopped stroking him. Never stopped milking his poor and sensitive cock for all its seed. God, there was so much. You were in awe of him—eyes wide and mouth ajar. It was like a drug to you. Seeing the man above you come so intensely undone.

In the beginning, you had felt bad due to how wrong the situation actually was. But the more he came, the more you craved it. You needed it just as much as breathing.

“Good boy,” you mumbled as you gave a final tight tug on his cock. He hissed at the sensitivity and then exhaled as you released his twitching and aching cock from your hold.

For the first time, he looked finished. Exhausted as he dropped his head backward. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly and tried to catch his breath. Had he reached his breaking point?

You gave him a break. He deserved that much by enduring this pleasurable torture. But the men in charge were impatient.

“Please don’t stop, miss. He is not allowed to rest.” The same accent uttered behind the glass.

Soldat’s eyes were on you now. Watching intensely as you got to your feet. You hissed as you stood upright. The uncomfortable and solid concrete floor bruised your knees and made your thighs stiff.

His abused cock twitched once you stood before him in all your nude form. His chains rattled again as he tried to reach forward to touch you. The plates on his bionic arm whirled. Did he want to hurt you? Punish you for torturing him? Or was there something else he wanted?

He stared intensely at you with his jaw clenched and eyes wild like an animal—examining your body like a predator would a prey. He groaned and licked his lips, hungry for more of what you had to offer. How much till he could bear no more?

When he saw you become nervous under his gaze, he bit his tongue and relaxed back into his seat.

“Please continue, miss,” the Russian man pressed you on. Becoming impatient with the waiting.

You trembled as you sat on top of Soldat—sore yourself from all the previous activities you had performed on him—hours of torturous pleasure. He let out a satisfied groan as you found your place on his lap.

You were so unbelievably close now. Your sweaty bodies pressed together, front to front. It was so hot, so erotic feeling his warm skin against yours. Feeling his delicious and defined muscles underneath your palms as you ran them down his broad torso.

His cock nestled against your dripping pussy. Yours and his juices mixed as you grinded on him, making him rock hard again.

With a breathless moan, you took his cock in your grasp again, loving the feel of him in your hand. Soldat sucked in a breath through his teeth as you pumped his bruised and slick length before you lined up his bulbous head with your entrance.

For the first time since you sat on him, you found his dark gaze as you lowered yourself onto his thick girth, thighs trembling. You winched at the pleasurable sting as he stretched out your velvet walls, inch by inch. It was so much to take in.

A deep groan sounded from his throat at the friction on his sensitive cock. His head fell back, eyes closed, and his teeth drew blood as he bit his bottom lip. His body clenched again at the sensual torture.

“Fuck, you’re huge,” you whined as his cock nestled balls deep inside your pussy.

His dark eyes found yours again. And although they were scary and wild, you couldn’t break from his intense stare. An animalistic groan rumbled in his chest, and his hands clenched in tight fists. His menacing aura compelled you to start riding him.

With your hands clasped at the back of his neck, steadying yourself, you started bouncing on his thick length. Slow, to begin with. Letting the ridges and veins of his cock caress delicately against your walls. Your jaw slacked as you enjoyed the teasing penetration.

But Soldat was impatient. He tried to push his body further into yours despite the constriction of his chains as he bellowed a deep roar. His hips bucked upwards brutally, forcing the entirety of him in you. You cried as his swollen head hit deep inside.

As he continued to snap his hips up into your aching pussy in quick motions, you met his movements with your own forceful ones. The sound of wet skin clapping, deep moans, groans, and soft whimpers drowned out the chatter and beeping of instruments behind.

Your sweaty bodies moved and danced effortlessly together—a seductive second act to the lewd porno.

Without thinking, you pressed your lips to his hard. Soldat took advantage of having his touch on you for the first time. He groaned as he moved his lips hurriedly against yours. Parting them to explore your mouth further.

The kiss was messy and needy—tongue and spit mixed together. Breathless moans and whimpers shared between you as your lips moved passionately—savouring the intoxicating taste.

As you pulled away, desperately needing a breath due to the exertion of your movements, he captured your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it as you pulled apart. He managed to nip your lip at the last second, puncturing through the skin and creating a little bleeding cut. He groaned while you moaned at the violent action. His animalistic and cruel nature was beyond hot.

It was hard to tell how long you had been fucking for—riding his cock brutally. It was all so intoxicating—the sounds, the touches, the tastes, the delicious penetration. It clouded all your senses. It made you aware of nothing but him—his massive body and cock.

You were approaching your first orgasm since you started this erotic experiment with The Asset. And with the way your body trembled and the firm tightness in your stomach begged to snap, you knew your release would wreck you—dissolving you into a messy state of whimpers and possibly a blackout.

You braced yourself by wrapping your arms around his neck—clinging desperately to him. Puncturing your nails into the skin of his back—leaving marks.

Soldat’s body tensed, anticipating another rocking release as he ground his teeth and roared like a caged animal. The chains rattled as he pulled on his restraints. His huge arms flexed, and his delicious muscles contorted beautifully, making him look even bigger.

You could see a hint of pain and discomfort in his features at having his cock tormented and overstimulated to the extreme. But another part of him, the darkest flicker in his eyes, couldn’t get enough of the torturous pleasure.

You leaned your forehead against his, which had his tenseness ease up to a degree. Yours and his parted lips brushed as you became so engrossed with the anticipation of your shared release.

“Fuck,” you whimpered as you grounded yourself deeper onto his pulsing cock that was nearing its release. And with a last few sharp thrusts of his hips into your quivering pussy, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, you and he came hard—an explosion of noises and numbing pleasure rocked your bodies.

His cock twitched violently as he spurted his thick and warm cum into your awaiting womb, covering your fluttering walls with his seed. Making you feel full and satisfied. Yours and his hips stuttered and lost their rhythm as you tried to move against each other despite the soul-crushing and body-crippling sensation.

Your sounds of passion were muffled against his sweaty skin as you nuzzled your face into the crock of his neck. His ones roared so loudly in your ear—moans, groans, growls, making your whole body vibrate and convulse.

The pleasure seemed to last for an eternity as you savoured each erotic and sensual sensation with Soldat.

A wave of darkness shadowed over you as it became too much after a while. The pleasure too intense for your weak body to handle. Your movements started easing into a delicate dance as you used the last bit of strength to cling onto Soldat’s colossal frame.

Yours and his chest heaved in perfect rhythm as you stilled completely on him. His cock buried deep inside you still.

His warm body against yours was a comfort from the raging ache your own pulsed. His hot breath brushing your skin a soothing sensation.

How could a man that was claimed to be inhuman, dangerous, a weapon, feel so comfortable? Feel so right?

You hummed softly as you nuzzled further into him. Tired and drained from the hours of exertion that accumulated into a fiery ending.

The demands of the men in charge for you to continue were nothing but a muffled sound.

You felt yourself slip. Slip into darkness, tired and satiated, as the last thing your consciousness remembered was the soft lulling of the menacing man you were clinging onto.

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

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[darkdemeter]

𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍, 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐕:

— BUCKY BARNES COLUMN

Dark Pirate! Bucky Barnes x Siren! Female Reader

—- gifs/images found on pinterest, credit to original posters -—

| A/N | DISCRETION |

Wow, I was expecting y’all to be absolutely ruthless and kill Mina to escape. But a few of you were right on it like hounds, you smart cookies, haha...

SMUT 18+ minors dni — oral receiving (male) — slight breeding kink — dubcon (imma just put this here just in case — possessive, dark bucky — dom/sub dynamic — minor profanity — secondary character death — angst — pet name usage — I think that's it? (There may be some grammar/missed editing, will come back sometime later and fix those mistakes)

| SUMMARY |

He is your captain, and he is holding you prisoner. You are his siren, and your fate is one of bound damnation.

*6.7𝐤 ────────────────┘

| M-LIST | TAGLIST:

@identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @mostlymarvelgirl @daddy-bucky @thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction @armystay89 @oscarissac2099 @boobsbeesbongos @wallacewillow0773638

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No. It’s worth weighs not in balance with the shedding of her blood, her very life, and your captain knows he has won. Head bowed low until the tresses of your hair fall about to frame your face like a shroud, hands sheltering the necklace with uncertainty, you turn your head towards your captain and Mina. Your hueful eyes, expressive in their nature of care beyond your own preservation, you would never willingly put your dear friend in the midst of harm. So, with a shake of your head at Mina’s tearful glare that spurs you to flee, you reject your chance of freedom in exchange for hers. 

  Primed still at the exposure of her throat, he guards her while you approach forward, elegantly submissive under the wake of his darkened stare, the bright tinge of blue awaits you with lust and longing. Nearing his side, the golden chain runs over your skin, a strike of pure and cold guilt pushes a burdensome weight on your heart at the passing of sorrowful voices that vanish upon his imprisoning hold.

  “Good girl,” he purrs with a flaunt of his pleased grin. Teeth that render you with possessive marks on display, taunting you with what’s to come. It is with tenderness that the softened caress of your hands meet over the tanned muscle of his hand that harbours death at his whim, eyes pleaful and coaxing with a want for an end to this needless violence; to forget its happening and be in the smothered encompassing of your beloved captain. 

  His fingers curl tighter to the hilt of his blade.   “Please…” Heaven pours the purest of waters into the goblet of a sinful man at the sound of such an angelic plea, fluttering from your parted lips his eyes cannot lessen his want for. As if entranced by the lull of your voice, he nods with a thinned smile of his plump, pink lips and withdraws the bite of metal from her throat. Mina lurches forward, stumbling with a sharp gasp, and you catch her a moment before she can find salvation in revenge. 

  “Young one,” she insists quickly as she latches hold of your wrist. Something resides in her face that pales, along the ridge of her eyes is a thickened beam of tears, but she gives you a smile. One she often adorned to banish your fears. In the etched lines of your confusion, she only smiles wider until the tears can no longer be held at bay, unleashing in finely thinned rivers. 

You mean all to me. I love you. 

  Her body succumbs and melts around you the moment you embrace her. Her arms are a haven around you, a blanket of safety you miss, a sensation you long to have. But she is sudden to pull away, holding her palm up and flat, she gestures for you to move back. 

Go. Now.

  In spite of their grievances and war over you, you see a mutual glance shared between Mina and your captain, her eyes firm in ensued silence but imploring something of him.   “Come, siren,” says Bucky, his strong hands encase you and pull you from Mina, your outstretched hands graze her own that will to entangle with yours, but falter. 

  She nods at you to go with your captain and you allow yourself to sink into the muscled crevice of his side, his hand holstering you flush to him as he guides you back towards the shore. He gives you no chance to let your course of gaze to linger back towards Mina. The low hum of his voice mumbles something to Wanda and the witch grins with an all too eager nod of her head. Now with you in his grasp, he leads you back towards the ship with those of the hunting party following behind. 

  You’re pressed on to move with haste, the salty winds sweep up the sandy embankments with a fearsome bellow that hums deeply in your rings, your robe barely clinging to cover your modesty. Only just over the beach’s mounding crest and through the howl of Nassau’s haunting wind, your body flinches inward to your captain at the echo of a scream that cracks through the swaying palms and over the bounding waves until the sound can travel no further. 

  Your feet run the wooden boards of the cabin at the behest of his forceful hand that shoves you through its threshold, the warrant of his wrath, the price you’ll pay for daring to insult him through your little deception. 

  “You test the bounds of my tolerance and kindness, siren,” he warns behind a bar of gritted teeth, he hisses without remorse for your shedded tears that follow, “You are bound to ME!”

  With fear all-consuming, you fall to your knees, hands press to the scuffed boards’ lining and your chin bows low to levels of his preference. 

  You cry out, the profuse outpour of tears that line your face does little to quell the raging tide of his anger. “I-I’m sorry!”

  “Quiet!” he barks and you reply with naught but a trembling nod. “I’ve been merciful to you. I’ve given you belonging, shelter and security, and this is how you repay all that? With this insult!”

  His height that towers over you like a commanding shadow sinks to kneel before you, the musk of his scent wafts in lingering cascades upon you, encasing you in times that once were; without this consistent turmoil of your curious nature. 

  But that’s what you were: curious. Why your captain holds guardianship over this particular necklace, its mystery undeniable to lure in your want to know, its attention and the way it glimmers and shines in the sunlight’s light. And the now fading voices. This necklace is yours, at least it was at some point in time, a piece of you that now your captain harbours as his own. Through it, somehow, it binds you to him. The key to your imprisonment… but also your freedom. 

  “You’ve to be punished now.” His words spoken levelly bring a chill to wisp down your spine and needle through your skin, sewing a patchwork of unrest into the faint glamour of your receded, softened scales, and your pupils are blown dark and wide with your evident terror. Punishment is never struck on a whim when it comes to your captain. No, punishment is served at the wrong doings, and in performing poorly to his orders, that punishment can vary. But for you, it falls under the same cloth, a figment garment that never holds to you for long. For it is stripped from you as you enact yourself in service until he sees your crimes duly paid in full.   And usually, it is after he has pumped you full, until your cunt is sorely abused and leaking with his seed. 

  Cool metal dances under your chin and before you can find a surmisable amount of courage to fight, he sharply upturns the tilted axis of your eyes to meet his. Ferocious as the battles he orchestrates at sea, and piercingly cold as the wintry peninsula of the arctic that your skin and muscle is butchered until your bones ache. Yet in the delicately lightened pools of his oceanic eyes, lies a strange tenderness. But it is one that never smiles. Never softens. Not in the way Mina implied. For your captain’s heart is a black one, guarded in the fortress of his cruelty. That which he holds you to the level of his eye is not a testament of love. 

  Captain James Barnes, the White Wolf, cannot love. Much to the naivety of your own heart, that soon after broke at this revelation of truth some time ago, you came to accept that in his darkened heart, yearns the ever hungry curse of lust. A hunger you must now feed or forever be enslaved, and mind erased at the coming of his witch’s scarlet magic. 

   “Yes… I do…”

  Your answer is met with a hum of approval, deep and throaty. Over the canvas of his features, there’s a smirk woven into his lips, sly and beautifully sinister in his internal fantasies he makes real upon the unity of your intimacy. You cannot help the blossom of need in your core upon meeting the darkened hue of his eyes that proclaim loudly through the veil of desires unspoken. 

  “Correct answer,” he applauds with another purr accentuating his deep voice, the flutter of your lashes a visible effect of his spell over you. But beneath his praise and all good words that come forth from his lips, you know what answer he seeks newly and intensely. At its mere thought, a power surges through you, a sensation that circuits through the tips of your fingers and down between your legs, gathering a layer of slickness that settles over the wooden floor. 

  “Your child,” you say, lips but a ghost’s touch apart, “your bastard…”

  “There’s a good lass,” he chuckles with a devilish grin and pushes forward, lips smashing onto yours with unparalleled force that drives your spine to curl back, at your hips he pulls you to him. His teeth gnaw and stab, his tongue roughly seeks out the delicate line of your mouth, priming it before his invasion that draws a string of quietened moans from the chasm beneath your breasts. Between them and the hardened peaks at their centres, the idle brush of silver reminds you of his name. Reminds you of whom you are bound to. 

  You whimper at the first lashing of his tongue that threatens yours in intimate combat, and with little will to fight and claim dominance, you allow him to defeat you. He is brutal in the carnage his wet muscle unleashes. Hungrier and hungrier. Closer, you pull yourself to the realm of his lap, crawling in the vice of his passionate indulgence. 

  He all but wraps you in the embrace of his arms and sweeps you up from the floor, pinning you to his hardened, muscular front with a long groan, the taste of your tongue coiling around his enough to make him delirious. Your robe falls from your shoulders and rests in the crook of your elbows, allowing your captain to ravish the nakedness of your shoulders and chest, marking your skin. He suckles, drawing dark pigments to form as a reminder of who it was that could only have you like this. 

Bucky’s quick to thrust you down on the bed. Forced at his will, you’re splayed upon your stomach and he forces your hips to arch up until the curve of your spine is perfectly at level to his liking. 

  “Are you goin’ to be a good girl for me, siren?” The question comes as a dark wave. The scent of his breath washes over you, you can smell the intoxicating flavour of lust. “Are you going to let your womb become swollen?”

  His metal hand comes to lift beneath the flesh of your smooth stomach, resting there. Ever gentle to tease, his fingers dance their way down lower, not quite gracing the needy pulse between your thighs, his cock hard and stiff against the apex of your arse, slowly he grinds up and down. 

  You give an obedient nod and a breathless sigh, “Yes, Captain…”

  He grinds further down against you, having all but ripped the robe from your body, the only barrier between your bodies is the tight confines of his dark trousers that do little to hide the body of his erected length. You shudder beneath the behemoth of his form, his heat poisonously soothing to the cooler temperature of your own. 

  His lips find the delicate, curved shell of your ear as he breezes with a husky hum, “There’s a good little siren.”

  His metal fingers prod at the sensitive mound of your aroused bud, pulling a string of pleasured hisses and whines like a musician plucking the noted hymn of his trusty instrument. His thumb rolls slowly to the rock of the ship as his other fingers toy with the moistened slit of your pussy that craves to have anything he’ll give. 

  You pant heavily, hair mused to falter in unkempt wisps that fall over your eyes. He whispers against the finery of your flesh, praising it over every inch exposed to him. His thumb now rolls harder and his metal digits push between your folds, ignoring the low whine and startled quiver of your thighs that bounce in their shaken balance, teetering over the bed’s edge only to be supported by the pillar of his waist that pummels into you roughly. 

Your eyes flutter to a close, engrossed in the motion of his fingers, the chilling kiss that smoulders the writhing waves of heat of your walls, your core now a blazing furnace that pleads for more. A filthy moan escapes you at the tugging of his expert technique, leaving him to chuckle darkly from behind. 

  “Dirty little whore, aren’t ya?” All you can do is nod in reply, wriggling in his grasp, your hips thrust down on his hand with feverish need. 

  His flesh hand punishes you with a slap, the echoing sound causes you to shriek. Frozen, he then stabilises you with his other hand that bites into the shape of your hip until he’s capable of leaving defined bruising. “You’re at my whim, Siren,” he growls hoarsely, “and you’re still serving your punishment.”

  He knows you near your orgasm. Your impatience to reach it noticeable and just when at the ridge of your climatic bliss, he withdraws his fingers from your cunt. It takes everything you have to not mewl and cry in protest. He turns you to lay on the flat of your spine, up into the glower of his piercing stare, and without so much as blinking, his flesh hand weaves to unfasten the buckle of his belt and tosses the leather strap to the floor with a metallic thunk. With a heavy knee that tips the scales, it pushes down on the mattress along your side with a muffled groan, his body hovers over you. Meanwhile, he invades your mouth with the numerous digits coated in your juices. You moan lowly at the taste that sizzles on your tongue, washing your buds with your sweet nectar. 

  With a simple rustle and tug, his pants fall loosely to gather below his strongly built waist, fabric bunching together to hold fast from falling to the floor too quickly. Free from the tight constraints now, his cock brushes over the navel of his abdomen, the long under-vein pulsing with heated pools of blood and his thick, pink tip oozing with need in the form of pebbling drops of pre-cum. Pushing his hips forward and tearing his metal fingers from your mouth, ignoring the connecting thread of saliva, he pulls your head until your lips bump plushly to his weeping head. His flesh hand traces the contour of your jawline with ghosting touch, your hair becomes ravelled tightly in the locked grip of his other.

  “Let’s see how well you sing when my cock is fucking your throat,” he says beneath a wheezing chuckle. He growls then, still humoured by his remark, “Open.”

  Your defiance to obey his command is futile. Somehow, you know this, though you believe you’ve never tried. Contact locked between your eyes, your pliant lips part and sink around his enormous girth, barely able to tolerate far before you’re already caught gagging. He laughs at your attempt to take him whole, always amused at the sighted struggle written into every inch and crevice of your face. Now that he thinks about it, it has been some time since he’s taken you down the throat, his flesh hand rolls from your jaw and down the side columns of your neck with the continuation to submerge his cock further in. Beneath his calloused fingers, your neck swells and the skin protrudes as his cock intrudes until finally, your nose brushes the dark curls of his base. 

  Your lashes are darkened and wet by the stream of tears lining the brim of your eyes, nose flaring aggressively for even a morsel of air. 

With a tilt of his chin he indicates for you to begin, his eyes warning of greater punishment if you decide otherwise. You slowly pull your head back, the stiffness of his hardened length running against the walls of your throat and mouth, covering every inch possible. As much as you can, you barely allow your teeth to tease him, fearful of what he’d do if you got any ideas with your sharp incisors. Rumbling with a pleasured groan, your captain snaps his hips sharply to sheathe himself again, much to a shattered, muffled whine coming from you. Your pace is too slow. And so, with a twist of your locks, he rolls his hips back and forth in a pace set to his liking, adoring the flow of tears streaming down your face. You continue to cough and gag, throat tightening in pulsing waves that quicken yet fade the longer you go without sufficient air. 

  “F-fuck, siren,” he groans as his head dips back, hair licking down the nape of his neck in long, dark tresses. His hips roll faster and his fingers hold tight to feel the quickened strike of his cock that surges back and forth inside you, your moans growing louder and lost in a whirlwind and blissful agony. 

  “Every drop, little Siren— sh-shit!” he thrusts harder at the filthy image of his spent spilling from the enclosure of your jaw and trickling down your neck in artistic rivers. The frantic course of his thrusts causes an obscene amount of sound to echo through the room, the slickened gargle of your hot, tiny mouth trying to accommodate his size through what little intake of air you can harvest, your cheeks flushed a bright hue of red that rivals that of the blood of his enemies. His lips part with a series of gasps and deep moans pumped from his chest, his release soon upon him. 

  “Drink— it all up– love,” he utters with a string of curses soon following his order. His grip seizes hold to the roots and your scalp burns, your discomforted whine drowned out by the flood of his seed that shoots past your tongue and straight into the bowel of your belly without restraint. His spent comes in tidal waves of hotness, unable to register his taste entirely, thick ropes of his cum paint and coat the walls of your mouth, leaving naught but a messy web of his release to coagulate once he withdraws. 

  In sight of you with your mouth full of him, he smirks, a dark and wicked thing to behold to and beneath the smouldering, glassy gaze that’s coal-like; fearsomely burning in his reverie of desire. He sighs a sound so deep it rumbles off his tongue like the fine course of a flowing river. 

  “How beautiful you are… on your knees and full of my love.”

  Love? 

  Is that what his seed is a representation of? You blink, wet and dark lashes beating damp markings against the undercurve of your eyes, he sees the surprise in your enlarged pupils.

  He cannot mean ‘love’. He is not capable of it…

  But how you wish he was. Oh, what you would give for this man to be able to love. To actually know the fine line between material treasures and true, unbridled and passionate love. Funny, how a siren wishes internally for the concept of love and to be loved, the very essence of that emotion only comes to that of the affectionate sisterhood of other sirens. A bond that envelops through both scales and soul. 

  A bond that, if severed, can have lasting impacts on the heart and mind. So much so, that a siren’s song can turn into one of longing sorrow and despair, and when that essence of love and lust is gone, there is no longer a song.

  Only the sounds of cries and shrill screams that echo in the mists, void of any emotion other than vengeance and rage. 

  He summons your attention with a sharp whistle that pierces the veil of your thoughts, ringing loud and clear in your ears. 

  “Eyes up, siren. I wanna see those eyes on me when I fuck you.” 

  Upon capturing the colour of your eyes, the casted amber glow from the candles reflecting in glittering highlights, his smirk only grows into a toothy grin that pulls the seams around his eyes to crinkle slightly. He watches with keen interest as you gulp down each swallowing of his cum, until the gaping blackness of your throat is all that remains, leaving a thin coating behind. 

  “How do I taste, little siren?”

  “G-good… Captain,” you answer, voice shaken. Broken in and slightly roughened. Something that stirs his pride greatly. His lips brush the velvety texture of your moan, memorising each stroke to memory with a drunken groan. 

  Intoxicated by the venom of his attention, you’re powerless as he leans over you, knees bent into the bed on either side of you, caging you beneath him. His hands, a mix of metal and flesh - a combination of cold and warm - follow the curvature of your jaw and sweep down your neck, following the natural dips and bends of your body. Over the linen of his loosely ruffled blouse, your hands are gentle in their tug, pulling at it. 

  Amused by your antics, Bucky leans back a moment and peels the shirt over his large shoulders, your eyes drink in the scarred field of his muscular body, the dark line of hair trailing down to the base of his cock that revives and flourishes with a heated, deep pink tint. 

  In your moment of jaw-slackened admiration, Bucky’s lips delve to the crook of your neck, nose nestling in deep to inhale your alluring scent that mingles and rubs with his own, husky growls emit from some deep chamber within him in his frenzy to claim every inch of you he can. With a pivot of his hips that move forward, he excites your weeping and desperately aching core with the enthralling length of his cock, a stone striking against stone to bring a sparking ember. 

  Your nails carve red streaks over his inked skin, muscle ripples beneath the pads of your fingers and he hisses deliciously, a sound you swallow with greed. 

  “Look at you,” he mumbles against your jaw, peppering your chin and the corner of your lips with kisses. “Taking what’s yours. You’re learning to be as black hearted as I.”

  Never has he applauded you in such a way. Not once has he rewarded this behaviour with praise and amusement. It’s always him that’s been dominant, to triumph over you. But not a moment too soon can you be lost to this idea that he wanes in his power, for his teeth sink deep between your neck and shoulder, enough to draw the bitter iron taste of your blood, you wince under the heavy pressure of his mark. “But I’ll always be the one on top.”

  “Yes, Captain,” you gasp quickly to the beat of his growl. His tongue soothes his bite before he takes one of your swollen peaks between his plush lips, tongue darting over it. Your moans are music to his ears. Granting the same treatment to the other before he turns you over, his actions rough with a grunt, he stares a moment upon the bareness of your spine, the ever-faint shimmer of softened scales reflect differing hues of greens, blues and pinks against the colour of your skin. 

  Your face brushes firmly over the furs and silks to peer past and over your shoulder, up at the darkened frame of your captain, eyes darkened and lost to the storm of his lust. 

  His large head spears teasingly at your entrance, lips quivering in anticipation and attempting to latch hold, to knock his tip within grasp. He scoffs at the pitiful display below him, your whines and broken mewls a song of your dependence on him. You’d never survive without him, he grins darkly at the thought. You rely too much on him now, stripped of everything you knew before, he holds you in the palm of his hand and at his tether. An obedient plaything.

  At the swift motion of your hips, Bucky dips back, your attempt failing miserably with an exasperated sigh. “Now, siren,” he coos, cocking a brow you barely see, you hear the infatuation that laces his tone. “I want you to beg for it. You sound so beautiful when you do.” 

  “Please,” you whimper that stifles at the reward of his tip brushing your aroused lips. You whine again, louder, “Please!” 

  The snap of his hips is quick and he thrusts hard, pushing the breath from your lungs in the form of  a breathless scream that winds you. Buried almost to his haired base within one go, he pushes what remains until his cock nestles snugly in your pulsing walls that constrict around his girth; choking in with dire need. 

  “Fuckin— hell–” he bites down into his lip with a deep hiss as he draws his hips back, only to then repeat the first slaughtering wave that penetrated you, another gust of breath pushed from your lungs. You cough, spluttering and moaning in muffled choruses when he picks up the pace, driving his cock in and out, the sound drowning your eardrums with only the backdrop of his voice threads through, you’re practically deaf to your own noises. 

  “So t-tight–” he chokes out, the impact of his thrusts increases until your body shuffles back and forth, his hands squeeze to your hips to keep you from moving across the bed from his ruthless pace. Arching himself that bit higher and angling you with him, your ears pop and ring with a scream that tears through your vocal cords, loud enough to be heard from outside the cabin, no doubt. 

  “Like that, siren? Right there, is that where— shit, where you— need me?” 

  You cry out in reply, voice barely able to form the words,   “U-uh– yes!”

  The tightness that ripples through your body and heats your skin begins to form, the weaving of your orgasm soon nearing, your only hope that he grants you it this time, you continue to appeal to him, begging him for more and more until your cunt aches from the constant pummeling of his drive. Each time your walls squeeze around him, it’s tighter than the last, a telltale that your body is ready to let go. 

  “Cap–Captain!” you gasp into the sheets with a deep, longing moan. “Please… oh, please…”

  His lips tug at the corners into a devilish grin, fingers embedding themselves to bruise your hips. “You want to cum?”

  You cannot bring yourself to answer lest you scream again and break your voice for good, he sees the intense bop of your head. 

  “Cum for me, little siren, cum on my cock,” he barks and you follow his command. Like the pulling current of the forbidden and dark maelstrom, you release yourself with a heavy and breathless moan as you cum. His own pouring of his seed follows within seconds of your own, your walls drinking every drop of him until he’s all but spent inside you. He grunts from behind, a series of laborious noises, he begins to slow his hips but doesn’t cease to a complete stop. 

  His hips roll slowly until he grinds circles, his cock still embedded deeply into your abused pussy that’s stuffed full of him and his cum, all but weeping around him in hopes of leaking out. Your skin is duly from the thin layer of sweat coating you like a second skin, your chest heaves for air after having been robbed of every single breath, but the trace of his lips brings you pause.

  He’s not done with you just yet. 

  Glasses of sand pass through hours of unrelenting torture, brought out through orgasmic bliss and pleasures and pain, all until both he and you were beyond another round. Your entire body felt broken in, shaking with nerves frazzled and your muscles tense after trying to claw your way out of his grasp - for even just a moment of reprieve - but he’d dragged you back to him from your ankles and pinned you down. 

  Left in darkness, the candles having lost their will and wick to burn,  you blink through the overhanging shroud of sleep that clings to you. Your body remains to recover and you struggle to crane yourself to even rest on your elbow and peer down at your captain. Asleep on the plane of his back, his chest rises slowly with deep inhales and breezing exhales. His metal hand lazily holds against the hind of your arse, every so often giving it a firm grip. His other hand rests on the rise of his toned stomach, the gold barely noticeable in the dark, the pearl emits a dim glow. The voices, however, sing a dying symphony that are barely heard above your breath. 

  You draw closer until you half straddle over his waist, your fingers comb over the veins of his hand and wrist, down and over his thick, strong fingers, ringing the chain loose until the necklace is held in your palms once again. You’d done all to tire him out to near completion so that he’d not be as alert as any other time. Now all you cling onto is hope that your plan is not one of failure. 

  Your nails grow from the beds and sharpen, eyes flickering between his sleeping features and the necklace, your hand hovers above him. 

  The air is thick in your lungs, tense as you scan for a place to safely gather enough blood that he won’t notice in his sleep. Your eyes and hand move down the length of his body until they reach the apex of his lower abdomen, grazing just near the trail of dark hair, your claws slash an opening. Pouring in thin, bleeding streams, you coat the pearl quickly. The pearl glows brighter now, the taste of crimson allows the white to fight through the hue of red, adorning a pinkish colour. You move to sit, balancing half way atop your captain, you next move to your palm, your sharpened fang punctures into the tender flesh of your other palm, you swallow a pained hiss. 

  With a final glance towards your sleeping captain, you’re aware there will be no going back from this. Mina’s sacrifice will not be in vain. You lay the pearl into the thin pool of blood, the pearl beats with glowing life that compares to that of the full moon, the song returning to levels now louder, revived from their near death. 

  Through the ripples of time, a white flush blinds you with a vision.

  Brightly, the sun lays high and over the ocean that moves in ever-rolling waves, the ripples form on its surface with unrest, a vast world of different shades of blue, all a-mingling together in harmony. The ocean envelops you - welcomes you - and your tail thrashes in excited beats that leave behind a fading cloud of bubbles. 

  Around you, faces greet you with fanged smiles, wistful and playful eyes that are soft in their tender gaze that hold to you. 

  Faces you find yourself remembering now, but their names evade you. 

  Breaking the ocean’s surface, the sun drowns your vision with bleeding heat, your brows scrunch but your grin is present and full. A sense of great excitement buzzes throughout your entire body, stomach alight with wonderment, you wonder… What is this feeling about?

  Then you see her and you now know. Her stature is grand and towering, she too breaks through the barrier between worlds with a hum of contentment, her features warmed in the blazing sun’s light. Her hair falls down over her shoulders in long, cascading tendrils, braided with dazzling ornaments and a variety of shells, each one a treasured gift presented, a crown forged in mystic metal shines. 

  Her eyes are giant pools of amber, a stark contrast when she resides in her kingdom below the waters and in the abyssal midnight. Eyes that are forever watchful and guarding, ever-seeing and always brimming with unfaltering love. 

  “Children,” she sings low and slowly, a note of adoration in her voice. All those of siren-kind are known as her children, but for you, you are one whose blood is annointed. From her womb, years ago, she shed tears of happiness. A child to whom she’d come to name Y/N. Daughter, and princess, of sirens. 

  Around her waist is the cycle of sirens that envelop her, circling her in their gladness to see her emerge from the depths below, every so often does she make her way to the surface, only for special occasions. Those who do not rush to swim circles around her, they gather onto the lagoon rocks. 

  “My beloved children,” again she coos soothingly with a rolling lullaby. But her eyes are sudden to sink, her smile is then to vanish as an abrupt wave of panic consumes her. Her amber eyes turn towards the horizon behind you and her form blacks out the sun, covering you in her looming shadow. 

“Submerge—!”

Screams of a thousand voices echo into the sky and ripple through the water as spiralling currents that pierce you like blades. Her body bends forward at the bombardment of fire upon her, her neck cranes forward with a reverberating cry, her pain is felt by all.

  Yet she pleads for her children to delve below, to hide beneath the blackened blue that no humans would dare to venture lest they succumb to their demise. 

  Ships break into view, bouncing on the waves as tyrants. Breakers of peace. “Mother!” you shout, a webbed hand outstretched only to turn swiftly at the ship headed straight for you. The sight of a carven lady poised at the hull’s front, adorned in a skinned pelt of a wolf upon her head, you’d recognise it anywhere. The Avenger. The ship continues at you, leaving you no choice but to dive out of the way just before her front could bruise and slay you bluntly. 

  Your vision succumbs to a flurry of bubbles and darkness, only to re-awaken above the waves, the sky now traded for night. The moon is full, clouds unable to restrain its light for long in passing and the inky black canvas is riddled with sparkling, silver gems. 

  The Avenger’s anchor is reeled in with haste, panic ensues within the form of night and battle commences between that of your kind and the species that dwells on land, that which you prey upon: Man. 

  Those of your small clustered hunting party are hunted, spears puncture through the water until they sink into flesh or fall to the trench’s deep. You swerve, turn swiftly to be missed, but some aren’t so fortunate as you. 

  You came here to hunt and your quarry is what you’ll drag to the depths. Barreling upwards, a tunnel of water sprays about you as you launch yourself airborne, high and overarching towards the helm where you’d last seen him. 

Fangs bared into a hissing scream, slitted eyes of a predator bear into the frame of a tall man with dark, long hair and your clawed hands stretch out in your attack. A voice of one of his crew yells for his attention a moment too late. His blue eyes come to find yours just as you land atop him, pinning him to the wooden railing before pushing him overboard. You have him pinned, your grasp tight on your prey that escaped you just a few moments ago in the disturbed peace of his cabin, he struggles against you. 

  You immediately begin to burrow your claws into his shoulder to fight him, teeth gnawing on his flesh and through bone, but still he fights back with waning strength and breath, eyes a pure kind of blue that outmatch the palette around his soon-to-be grave. A whirling of crimson follows him down, his weight shifts in the balance to your favour at the loss of his arm that sinks into the depths below. 

  His lips part and pockets of air come from them in large bubbles, his lids begin to close and you grant him a sweetened smile, eyes half lidded in your victory that is sudden to end at the grasp of his hand around your throat and the cutting robe of a net that encompasses you both.

  In your battle to wriggle free, his arm wraps around you as the net is dragged upwards and towards the hull. Air from the world fills your chest and the once dark sky of a starlit night is returned to day. Around you, ships blast cannon fire and the air is polluted by smoke and the overpowering, scented winds of gunpowder. 

  Those familiar faces now are lifeless, eyes dull and lifeless and staring as blood poisons the sea around them, turning into murky clouds of crimson around you. It forces you to the surface and the moment you do, a voice shouts through the fabric of slaughter, the screams of your pod an orchestra of death and torment. 

  Your head turns to the direction of your mother, who battles the fleet of ships, a brutal display of annihilation only to then be fired upon and lurch forward, the being of her wounds worsens under the attack. Her eyes find yours amidst the chaos and you begin your way to her. 

  “You must flee!” she yells, a hand stretches out for you in warning to then shield you from a dozen harpoons with a harrowing call of whistles. Tears mist your vision before a spray of more fire separates you, driving you under the water and occasionally leaping through the air momentarily to avoid getting lost in the tainted, bloody waters. 

  You dare not look back, not as smoke rides over and veils your mother, not as her cries of battle turn further into the pain she’s subjected to nor the crashing wave of her body that falters and ripples through the ocean until it shudders the earth’s core. 

  But that same ship hunts you, the carven lady with a wolf’s pelt chases you over the unending sheets of raging waves, driving you further and further away from your family, your friends; all that you held dear. The many newborns that were attending the grand ball of daylight would never come to know their second. The choir would never sing your harmonic tunes as the sun faded over the ocean’s horizon. Never would you see your mother’s loving gaze attend you or her other precious children. 

  Never again would siren society be the same, without its queen, and without its people. Launching yourself out and into harm’s way to avoid another blooded cloud, you hear his voice shout, “Alive! I want her alive!”

  Your head turns and your eyes widen at the flash of scarlet that comes towards you, rendering you unconscious. 

  Him. It’d been him all along. Him, as he now stares at you with eyes a fearsome burn of darkened blue, awake and alert to your doings. You hardly come to realise the soaking streams of tears that run down your cheeks and drip onto his stomach, each one shed in the regaining of your memory. Remembering that which was all lost to you. Taken from you. By him.

  “Y/N, my love,” he affirms with a raise of his hands, each one cupping the wet curve of your jaw between them, the ominous and often looming storm in his eyes lays distantly. He coddles you now with his affections. “Pearl… I did it all for you. Because I love you.”

  Your head bends forth to rest in the crook of his neck, chests bare and pressed together, your breaths are shallow tremors that turn into muffled chords of weeping sorrow. Come morning, scarlet will rot your knowledge and turn you blind once again. But for now, you relish in his confession whilst you ponder: does his love justify his means?

For now, you will bide your time. Live another day… and sate your everloving vengeance.

────────────────

Well, we've reached the conclusion of our tale, readers. To think this all started with a single oneshot that was meant to just be a sole piece. But some of you wanted more and thus, this au grew a little more.

I thank you all for reading this series, I'm glad that it's provided some source of entertainment for you, it's been a pleasure. You readers have a lovely time now, remember to be nice to your fellow tumblrs and give your biggest love and support for your writers!

Captain Barnes and Pearl wish you happy reading and writing, Tumblrs 💙

[holylulusworld]

The cabin in the woods (2) - Angstober 21

Summary: You only wanted to clean out the family cabin…

Pairing: Dark!Winter Soldier x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, creepy vibes, fear, mentions of choking (non-sexual), dark winter soldier, kept reader, restraints

Trope: captivity

A/N: The end of kinktober is getting closer so we are getting a creepy little story today.

Catch up here: The cabin in the woods

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

If only you didn’t come here. The thought swims in your mind as you struggle to open your eyes.

Your head is throbbing, and your body feels like you got under the bus. Every part of your body hurts. Your throat is the worst. Touching your tender throat, you hiss. The bruises that formed it are more than painful.

“F—” you can’t even curse. Careful, you try to touch your throat, but something keeps you from it. You slowly turn your head to look at your wrists.

There are handcuffs around both wrists. A chain holds you tied to the floor. You shiver as the cold concrete is the only bed the man attacking you offers to you.

“F—!” You want to scream bloody murder, but just like your freedom, he stole your voice. You’re shaking now, not only from the cold but from the fear creeping into your mind. Your friends and family don’t expect you to return before Monday.

Mickey won’t care that you don’t call. He’ll believe you’re still mad because he left you hanging. If only he had come with you, the stranger wouldn’t have attacked you.

You wiggle on the ground. Not only did the stranger restrain your wrists, but he also wrapped a chain around your legs, keeping you immobile. It looks a little improvised, but the chain does its job.

“I wouldn’t try breaking out of the chains.” You whimper, hearing the stranger’s voice. Wiggling even harder, you try to rob away when his legs come into sight. “You’ll only hurt yourself, doll.”

He crouches next to your trembling form to run his thumb over your cheek. You scrunch up your nose because you can smell piss on your sticky clothes. No wonder. When he started to choke you, you wet yourself.

“If you promise to behave, you can take a bath,” he murmurs and roughly cups your chin. The stranger tilts your head, left and then right, making you wince. “Pretty little doll. I didn’t break you completely. Good.”

You try to tell him to get fucked, but you can’t. Not only because of your bruised throat, but the fear gripping you tightly. This man is more than dangerous. He’s a killer; you could see it in his steel-blue eyes.

“What will it be, Y/N?” You flinch when he tries to touch your throat. “I know you can be good for me. Don’t you want to be good? You’re not like your grandfather, aren’t you?”

He watches you wiggle your fingers, hoping to feel the engagement ring Mickey gave you a few months ago. Maybe it will give you the strength to survive this.

“I wouldn’t count on him, doll. I made sure of it while you were out cold.” He brushes his fingers over your cheek. Your eyes widen, and you whimper, fearing the worst for Mickey. “He’ll be busy with that pretty blonde chatting him up.”

You tilt your head to look at the man. How can he know your name or your grandfather? “Who ar—?” You choke on the words.

“I met your grandfather once or twice,” he says, eyes trained on your trembling lips. “He was a cold man, strict, almost sadistic.”

You sniffle. This is not the man you know. Your grandfather was always good to you. Well, except for that one time. But this had something to do with your father, not you.

“Your father was weaker. It was easier to find him and hunt him down,” your captor says. “The old man was hard to find. He hid in this cabin, and then he was on the run. It took me years to hunt him down.” He hums when you whimper again. “Don’t you worry, doll. You didn’t know a thing about your father’s and grandfather’s work for Hydra.”

Eyes widening, you look at the man. Hydra. You heard that word before. Whenever your father and grandfather talked in private, they hushed the word.

“Hyd—” You try to speak, but he presses his index finger to your lips.

“I wanted to kill you too when you came here to invade my home,” he whispers your name and leans over your body. “I decided against it, though. I thought-what’s the worst I could do to them?”

He smirks now as you stare at him with wide, fearful eyes.

“With my hand around your throat, I could feel your pulse racing. At that moment, I knew my revenge on them would be crueler if I kept their sweet girl as my pet…”

Tags in reblog.

[bandsofmarv]

Cutting Ties (Ghostface Bucky)

Bucky becomes dangerously obsessed with you even going as far as eliminating those around you.

warnings - murder, obsession.

The first time you noticed him, you thought it was just a coincidence. A dark figure at the edge of your vision as you walked home from the coffee shop. A fleeting shadow that seemed to disappear the moment you turned around.

Brooklyn was always alive with people, even at night, so you chalked it up to paranoia. But it wasn’t long before the coincidences became harder to ignore.

A knock at your apartment door late at night. No one there when you checked.

Your name written in the condensation on your bathroom mirror.

The faint feeling of being watched, even in your own home.

And then the killings started.

The first victim was your coworker, a sweet woman named Rachel who’d always made an effort to check in on you. You found out through the news the next morning. Stabbed in her apartment. No sign of forced entry.

The police called it random, but you knew better. Rachel had just been at your apartment two nights before, sharing wine and gossip. She’d been your only real friend in the city.

Her death left you shaken. But the city didn’t stop, and neither could you.

A week later, it was your neighbor, Marcus. He’d offered to help fix your leaky faucet the night before he was found in the stairwell, his throat slit.

The pattern was impossible to ignore now. Everyone who got close to you seemed to end up dead.

That’s when you saw him.

It was late, and you were walking home from work. The streets were unusually quiet, a thin fog rolling in from the river. The air felt heavy, suffocating.

And then you saw the figure at the end of the street.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a black cloak, the Ghostface mask gleaming white under the streetlights. He didn’t move, just stood there, watching you.

Your heart pounded as you froze, clutching your bag like it could protect you.

“Who are you?” you called, your voice shaking.

He tilted his head, the mask turning slightly as if amused by your fear.

When he finally took a step forward, you bolted.

————————————————————————

You spent the next week barricading yourself inside your apartment, refusing to answer the door or your phone. Sleep was impossible. Every creak, every shadow set your nerves on edge.

But no matter how hard you tried to shut the world out, you couldn’t escape him.

A package arrived at your door one morning. No return address. Inside was a single black glove and a note scrawled in messy handwriting:

“You don’t need anyone else. You have me.”

Your stomach twisted, bile rising in your throat. This wasn’t random. He was obsessed with you.

The next time you saw him, it was in your apartment.

You woke up to find him standing at the foot of your bed, the Ghostface mask blank and staring. You couldn’t even scream, your body frozen in terror.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his voice muffled by the mask. Low, gravelly, almost familiar.

“Who are you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He reached up, slowly pulling the mask away.

Your breath hitched.

“Bucky?”

James Buchanan Barnes—your quiet, brooding neighbor who always seemed to linger a little too long in the hallway. The man who had offered to carry your groceries up the stairs, who had fixed your squeaky door without you asking.

“I’ve been protecting you,” he said, his blue eyes soft but unrelenting. “They didn’t deserve you. None of them did.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “You killed them… Rachel, Marcus… Why?”

His expression darkened, the softness replaced by something far more dangerous.

“They were getting in the way,” he said simply. “You don’t need anyone else. I’ve been here the whole time. For you.”

You tried to scramble out of the bed, but he was faster, his Vibranium arm pinning you in place.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low and almost pleading. “I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you. But I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

The days that followed blurred together. Bucky didn’t leave. He stayed in your apartment, always watching, always nearby. He cooked your meals, cleaned up after himself, even smiled at you like none of this was horrifying.

But the mask stayed, perched on the table like a silent reminder of what he was capable of.

You tried to escape once, when he was in the shower. But the moment you opened the door, he was there, dripping wet and furious.

“Don’t make me lock you in,” he warned, his grip on your wrist firm but not painful. “I don’t want to do that.”

You realized then that there was no reasoning with him.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just a broken man. He was completely unhinged. And you were his obsession.

One night, as he sat across from you at the table, you decided to speak.

“Why me?” you asked quietly.

He tilted his head, considering the question.

“You were kind,” he said after a long pause. “The only person who looked at me like I was more than… this.” He gestured to his Vibranium arm, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “I couldn’t let you slip away like everyone else.”

“Bucky,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice calm, “this isn’t love. This is—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted sharply, his jaw tightening. “Don’t say that. I love you. I’ve done everything for you. I’ve made sure no one else could hurt you.”

You didn’t have an answer for that. What could you possibly say to someone who believed their obsession was love?

All you knew was that you had to find a way out. Before he decided that even you weren’t enough.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Happy Little Family" Prompt/Teaser Post:

Your heart ices over as you see him there - holding your baby. "No," you breathe.

"Look who it is!" he coos happily. He smiles at your terrified visage in the doorway and kisses June's head. "We missed you, Mommy."

"And then the knight took the princess away to his castle, and they lived happily ever after."

You're just outside the nursery when you hear his voice, and ice cold fear instantly floods your chest. You drop the laundry basket and run into the room, and there he is: seated in the chair you nurse from, reading one of the antique fairytale books that your mom gave at the shower, holding your baby.

"James," you breathe, horrified.

He's been smiling down at June, but now his face smooths out as he looks up at you. He isn't frowning or glaring, but you know him, and there's a storm behind those eyes that makes dread curl heavy in your stomach. "Hi Doll," he says quietly. "It's good to see you again."

Your heart pounds in your chest. You feel sick. One wrong move and who knows what he'll do. You take a cautious step forward, eyes searching James' body and anywhere nearby for a gun. You don't see one. You take another step. "James," you warn,

June makes a happy gurgle at seeing you, and James coos down at her, "Aw, yeah sweetie. I'm happy to see Mommy too."

Mommy. Hearing that word come out of his mouth, in a setting like this, is a nightmare you've woken from more than once. You lick your lips and hold out your arms, pleading, "James, please give her to me."

He acts like he hasn't even heard you, smiling and tapping June's body with one finger. "We were just reading a story. Little lady is gonna be a big reader one day, I bet. Gonna grow up to be real smart." His gaze slides back to you, with what you interpret as a world-of-hurt-coming-your-way look glimmering in his eyes. "A clever, tricky little kitty cat. Just like her Mommy."

📖"Daddy's Home"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, evil baby daddy, evil-ex, dubcon/noncon, threats and coercion, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the man who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

Story Masterlist

@cjand10, @violetwinterwidow01

[sosa2imagines]

Yours, ours, mine.

Imagine you are Bucky's wife. Steve has retired. He came back, after returning the stones. He gave Sam the shield. Steve lives with you and Bucky.

The more Steve sees you and Bucky, the more he pictures such life for himself. He fucks around with random girls. But all he can imagine is your face. Moaning your name, everytime he comes.

You roam freely in the house, having no clue about Steve's fascination with you.

He has set a camera in your bedroom. He jerks himself to the sight, of you and Bucky having sex. He is obsessed with your curves and figure. He loves seeing you naked.

When Bucky is out for work, Steve gets all touchy with you. You try to maintain distance. So he comes with a solution. He adds sleeping pills in your tea. Once you are knocked out, he sleeps next to you. Gently undresses you. Paying extra attention to your pussy, sucking your breasts like his life depends on them. Hands exploring your body, like he is worshipping you.

But he wants more. He wants to be balls deep buried in you.

He starts to gaslight Bucky. Picking up on his insecurities. "What if she gets bored of being alone for months, when you are out on missions?", "what about her needs?", "what if she finds someone else?".

Bucky pleads to him to stop. Steve assures him, he'll take care of you. Steve makes Bucky say that "Bucky himself is okay with Steve taking care of your his needs."

Bucky leaves for the mission happily, relieved his best friend will take care of you.

Steve is happy, to finally make you his.

You have no clue about this.

Good news lovelies, I have finally wrote this fic. The longest I have ever written.

Yours, ours, mine.