#yandere bucky

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

Could you do platonic yandere Bucky barnes x teen reader who is a super soilder. The reader is like 13-14 and was apart of Hydra like him but escaped. After the avengers and bucky find reader, bucky takes them under is wing after the reader escaped hydra

「 LITTLE SOLDIER 」

Synopsis; Trapped in the darkness of his obsession, desperately seeks to reclaim a child lost in his past. After discovering that someone else has taken him in, his broken and twisted mind drives him to commit an unimaginable act of violence. Is it salvation, or a curse? In Bucky's mind, everything makes sense. But who is the true monster here?

Pairing ── James 'Bucky' Barnes x Super Soldier! Teen! Reader. (Platonic!)

Content. MDNI ⚠︎ ── Dark themes, violence/death, blood, insolation, invasion of privacy, kidnapping?, delusion, Angst, murdering, child abuse, Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Gaslight, Mental Illness, Corruption, Isolation, Paranoia, Manipulation.

A/N ── English is not my first language — Spanish — Ahhh, it took me forever to post this, I know . I’m so sorry! I got so caught up in other things that I completely forgot about how the Winter Soldier was… and now that I’ve seen him again, what a nostalgia hit! It’s like time hasn’t passed, but at the same time, everything feels so different. Like every time you see him, you discover something new about him, you know?

Yandere! WS! Bucky Barnes who... observed the way your eyes filled with terror as you saw him, a mix of fear and confusion, like a creature trapped in a cage, unsure how to escape. Hydra had molded you, but it had also stripped you of your essence. Like many before you, you were a piece of a gear, meant to be used, controlled, and destroyed when no longer needed. You didn’t understand why you had been chosen for the experiments or how you had ended up here, you only knew you were fragile and that nothing in Hydra was truly "safe."

Yandere! WS! Bucky Barnes who... approached you with calculated coldness, like a shadow crawling in the dark. His gaze, initially empty due to the lobotomy, seemed to fixate on you now, as if a spark of humanity had reignited in his mind. His eyes didn’t shine with empathy, but with a dangerous curiosity. "Little one... how did you survive?" he murmured, more to himself than to you. The idea that someone so fragile could endure Hydra’s tortures, the serum, the constant pressure, intrigued him. But that curiosity soon turned into obsession. The protection he felt for you wasn’t a natural instinct, but one imposed by Hydra, who had ordered him to watch over you, keep you alive, but also keep you under control. You didn’t know that control would become your worst nightmare.

Yandere! WS! Bucky Barnes who... watched as you were subjected to more and more experiments. The nights of training were long, endless, filled with violence and blood. But the worst part wasn’t Hydra’s violence, but the way Bucky treated you. Sometimes, his low and calm voice filtered through the screams of others, speaking to you in a tone that seemed meant to be reassuring, but deep down, it chilled your blood. "Don't worry, you'll do fine. Everything will be fine, you just have to follow my orders." What else could you do but obey? Desperation, the feeling of being trapped in an endless cycle of pain and humiliation, enveloped you like a cloak. And he... he was there, always watching, always waiting. But Sometimes, when your eyes met his, you saw something else, something that made you shudder: the echo of the darkness that once was Bucky, the shadow that could no longer be erased

Yandere! WS! Bucky Barnes who... began following you with palpable obsession, as if you were his property, an object he had to protect at all costs. He no longer confined himself to Hydra’s orders. He found you in every corner of the facility, his presence a constant shadow behind you. "Don’t stray from me, do you hear?" His voice was colder, sharper. Every time you tried to escape, even in your thoughts, the fear of facing him became a constant threat. But something in his gaze had changed, and it wasn’t concern for your well-being. It was control. It was possession. And you had become just another pawn in his game, as captive to him as you were to Hydra.

Yandere! WS! Bucky Barnes who... mistreated you in ways you couldn’t comprehend, and the worst part was that after every hit, every cruel order, he would always return to you with a vacant smile, repeating the same words: "I do this for your own good." Why did he do it? Was that his way of showing you there was still some humanity left in him? Or perhaps, he could no longer distinguish between his own identity and Hydra’s orders. Every time he hit you, every time he left you marked, you could feel the confusion in his gaze, as if it wasn’t him acting, but something bigger, darker, that had taken his place.

Yandere! WS! Bucky Barnes who... after the last failed mission, when you faced an enemy stronger than you could handle, Bucky took you to his side, pressing you against his chest, soaking you in his blood and yours. "Don’t worry, I won’t let them hurt you," he whispered, his voice rough and full of desperation. The obsession he had felt for you, growing over the years, exploded in a scream. He wanted you to know that you, you alone, belonged to him. And though he feared you, that obsession had replaced everything else. Hydra had turned Bucky into a machine, but now he only wanted to have you under his control, beyond what he understood or wanted to admit.

Yandere! WS! Bucky Barnes who... was no longer just a Hydra soldier. He was a monster created by the shadows of the past, and your presence in his life was the only thing that kept him tied to something human, something he could never control. He looked at you with blind madness, he needed you, but worst of all: he feared you. And while he kept you captive with his cold hands and broken mind, what was left of his humanity slowly faded, leaving only a sick need that not even he could comprehend.

Yandere! WS! Bucky Barnes who... saw you fade into the shadows, like a whisper in the dark, escaping from his reach. Panic struck him like a torrent, but not in the way one might expect. It wasn’t just the fear of losing you, but the feeling that something had been taken from him, something he could not recover. You had escaped, and it was his fault. Hydra wasn’t going to let him go so easily. With a roar of fury, he ran through the hallways, his heart pounding. "Come back here! Don’t you dare run from me!" he would shout, but his voice only echoed in the empty corners, with no answer. He knew it was too late, that you had already escaped, and something inside him began to break, a part of his mind crumbling under the weight of his own guilt.

Yandere! WS! Bucky Barnes who... felt Hydra drag him back into their control, like a shadow that devoured him slowly. The anxiety of losing you wasn’t just a worry, but a madness that ate away at him from the inside. His superiors, with their cold and commanding voices, ordered him not to pursue you, to let you go. "You are nothing but a tool for us, Soldier. If she escapes, it doesn’t matter. You must complete your mission." But Bucky didn’t listen. He couldn’t listen. All he could hear was the sound of your breath, your distress, and how your figure faded from his reach. All he wanted was to see you again, to take your hand, and never let you go. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t escape Hydra’s grasp.

Yandere! WS! Bucky Barnes who... was once again subjected to Hydra’s yoke, as if he were a machine with no right to feel. Every attempt to escape their control was useless. Every attempt to rebel against what was expected of him only led to deeper torture. Physical pain, mental pain, it didn’t matter. He felt nothing anymore, only the constant sting of despair over your loss. Hydra had broken him once again, but this time, the feeling of losing you consumed him in a far worse way. You were gone, and he was to blame. How could he have allowed you to escape? How could he have failed to protect you?

Yandere! WS! Bucky Barnes who... in his desperation, sank into madness. He became a wandering specter within Hydra’s facility, every dark corner becoming more torturous than the last. Every second, his mind fragmented, the images of your face, your frightened eyes, repeating over and over like an echo he couldn’t silence. "You’ll come back, right? You’ll come back to me..." he whispered alone, but there was no answer. And when Hydra finally decided to send him on a mission against the heroes, his mind was on the edge of collapse. It was yet another sacrifice by the same machinery that had created him.

Yandere! WS! Bucky Barnes who... when the Avengers found him and freed him from their control, reality hit him hard. The internal war between his desire for redemption and his madness over losing you exploded in his chest, like an emptiness so deep it seemed to swallow everything. There, in the midst of battle, the truth crushed him: “I let you escape… I failed you...” Panic enveloped him, and his teammates, while helping clear his mind of Hydra’s shadows, didn’t know the truth behind his suffering. They knew Bucky had been manipulated, but they never understood that for him, the true enemy had been guilt. The guilt of letting you slip away, the guilt of not keeping you under his control, of not protecting you when it was his only mission.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... had spent so long, years, fighting to find something that would redeem him, something that would pull him out of the abyss Hydra had thrown him into. The Avengers had accepted him, and little by little, the darkness that once dominated his mind began to fade. He had reconciled with Steve Rogers, his old friend, his brother. The wounds of the past began to heal, and at last, Bucky could feel something close to peace. He had found a purpose fighting alongside the heroes, protecting the innocent, trying to make right all the destruction he had caused in his life. But though his soul seemed to find some calm, his heart was still a battlefield. The obsession with you never disappeared. It was something that stayed hidden in the depths of his mind, where guilt and despair never completely abandoned him. Every time someone mentioned a child or a young person with traits or abilities similar to yours, a shiver ran down his spine. What if it was you? What if he found you again? That was always his broken hope, his private demon that never stopped haunting him.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... walked through the city on a regular day, like any other, without expecting something so deep and disturbing to happen. The air was fresh, and the city thrummed with the normality of everyday life. Children played in the park, adults walked calmly, unaware that something sinister lurked in the shadows. It was then that he saw him. A teenager, about 13 or 14 years old, with his hair falling messily over his forehead. But it was something more that made Bucky freeze in his place: that small mark on his arm, almost faded, but unmistakable. The same Hydra mark that had been etched into your skin, the symbol that had marked him too, that had made him its own. The mark he would never forget.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... felt like the world was crumbling beneath his feet. His heart began to race, his breathing erratic. It couldn’t be... It couldn’t be that after all this time, after all the suffering, after the guilt he had carried for years, he would find you like this, so close, yet so far. His legs trembled, his fingers clenched into fists, trying to hold on to any semblance of sanity while the emotion drowned him. The teenager didn’t look at him, distracted by his own thoughts, but Bucky couldn’t stop staring at him, observing every small detail. Everything about him screamed that it was you. "It’s... It’s my child." He thought, but his mind was so fragmented that he didn’t know what to do with the feeling overtaking him. Terror and hope mixed like poison in his veins.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... began to walk slowly, as if approaching a specter, as if he feared that by getting closer, the dream would vanish. The elderly couple didn’t notice him, and the teenager remained as oblivious to his presence as if everything were in place. But Bucky knew something had changed, that this was the opportunity he had been waiting for, even though his mind was so confused he didn’t know if it was a dream or a nightmare. Each step he took toward you made him feel more and more desperate, more anxious, as if an abyss were opening beneath his feet. "Should I do it? Should I get closer? Would he want to see me?" he thought, his hands trembling with uncertainty and guilt. Time had passed, but for him, the child he had lost was still the same, and his madness made him think that maybe he could still fix it, repair what he had destroyed, as if he could take your hand again and tell you everything would be fine.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... finally crossed the threshold of doubt. With each step toward you, his mind emptied of logic, and the only thing he felt was a wild urgency, a deep desire for everything to return to how it was before. He only thought of the child he had let go, the child who had been marked by Hydra, the child who was now here, in front of him, unaware that his savior was also his jailer. With his heart pounding, a mixture of fear and hope, Bucky took the last step and stood before you, his gaze filled with twisted and anxious devotion, while his lips whispered almost breathlessly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. "It’s you... it’s really you, right?"

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... watched as your face, upon noticing his presence, transformed from a calm expression to one of pure panic. The eyes of that teenager widened as if he had seen a ghost, his body instinctively recoiling, a visceral reaction to seeing him. The fear reflected in your gaze was like a dagger stabbed into his chest. His fractured and obsessed mind didn’t understand what was happening at that very moment. He couldn’t comprehend how, after everything he had done, after the life he had stolen from you, you could still be so afraid of him.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... felt something twist inside him. It was pain, but also anxiety, a sensation that suffocated him when he saw you take a step back, trembling all over. And then, to his horror, something he hadn’t anticipated: you started to cry. Tears began to stream from your eyes, as if your body couldn’t contain the fear any longer, and Bucky froze at that moment. How could it be that he caused you so much pain, even now? "No... I didn’t want to scare you," he thought, but his thoughts couldn’t reach you. The horror in your face was a warning that you never, ever wanted to see that monster you once were again.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... watched as you turned and began to run, your figure quickly disappearing into the crowd. Anguish enveloped him, the fear of losing you again made him react in desperation. He tried to reach you, to shout at you, but his legs seemed incapable of moving quickly enough. "Wait, please!" he screamed in his mind, but the words didn’t leave his lips, they were trapped in a sea of madness. You were gone. And Bucky, with a broken heart, stood there frozen as your figure vanished before him, like an illusion he couldn’t hold onto.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t let the tragedy repeat itself. Using his sharp tracking skills, he delved into Stark and SHIELD’s technology, recovering all available resources to follow you, to know who you were now. The Avengers helped him, yes, but what he needed most was to find an answer, a solution, something that would lead him to you. Every second that passed without knowing about you was driving him crazy, feeding his need for possession, his urgency to have you, to protect you, to reclaim you.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... for days, Bucky unearthed information, tracked records, and dove into the Stark and SHIELD databases. Nothing stopped him. He knew your Hydra mark would give you away, that even if the scar was almost erased, someone, somewhere, would know something. And so, it was how he finally uncovered the truth: you had been adopted by a local family in the city. In fact, they lived in a quiet neighborhood, far from everything that could have been your past. A loving family, seemingly, who had given you a home and a life he could never offer. The revelation overwhelmed him. They had forgotten you, but to him, you were no ordinary child. You would always be his child, the one he had left behind and now could not let go.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... felt a growing rage inside him as he clung to the new information. How could someone else take his place? How could he allow it? The people who had adopted you, those strangers who treated you as their son, didn’t know what was behind you. They didn’t know what Hydra had done to you, what he had done, what he had promised you. And in Bucky’s mind, that only meant one thing: he wasn’t going to let them go on with their peaceful life. You belonged to him, and although the idea of being a father terrified and disgusted him, to Bucky, all of that boiled down to an unhealthy obsession with possessing what he had lost. Reconciliation with his own past didn’t matter because, at that moment, only you mattered.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... couldn’t stop thinking about how, after everything that had happened, you could be happy with a life he hadn’t been able to give you. But the guilt consumed him. Every time he thought about the family that had adopted you, his mind filled with dark shadows, disturbing thoughts about what he could do to "protect" you from them. He knew his obsession was becoming more dangerous, darker, but he could no longer stop. He couldn’t lose you again.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... couldn’t bear the fact that someone else had you, someone who didn’t know your pain, your suffering, or your true story. When he found the house where you lived, his mind twisted even more. Steve’s warning still echoed in his ears, his friend insisting: "Bucky, don’t do this. You can’t go on with this madness." But the warning was useless. To him, there was no turning back. Steve’s words no longer had power over him, fear, guilt, or remorse faded into the darkness. The only thing left was the sick desire to have you back, to "save" you from those people who were "usurping" you.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... infiltrated the house, getting rid of any security or surveillance as if they were mere obstacles in his way. No one in the house knew what was about to happen. The darkness of the night enveloped him as his footsteps echoed silently down the hallway. He moved with the precision of a predator, his breathing calm and cold, knowing exactly what he was going to do. The first victim was the adoptive father, a man who never saw the danger coming, a lethal shadow that pounced on him, and before he could react, Bucky had already silenced him brutally. With a precise blow, the blood spilled mercilessly, staining the floor and walls as Bucky continued his mission without a hint of emotion on his face.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... killed the adoptive mother with the same efficiency. It didn’t matter who they were, whether they were young or old, if they had raised the child with love, their presence in the life of his child was the only thing that mattered. As his knife sank in again and again, the blood flowing from the victims formed a river of chaos and death. The rooms of the other adopted siblings became a massacre without remorse, their bodies fallen in silence, as if their lives had no value in the face of his obsession with you. The metallic shine of the blood on the walls, the way the lights reflected on the surfaces of the house, only fueled his euphoria. No one in the house survived, they all fell to his unstoppable violence.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... finally ascended the stairs, his mind shadowed by what he had just done, but without remorse. He reached your room and stopped at the door. You could hear his breathing, heavy but calm, as if everything was under his control. And then, he saw something that made him smile, that twisted and macabre smile only he could show: you. You were asleep, unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded downstairs. There was no way you could hear the screams, the sounds of blood being spilled. You were just there, resting as if nothing had happened.

Yandere! Bucky Barnes who... approached your bed, his hand trembling slightly as he watched you. The horror of what he had done no longer mattered. The only concern in his mind was seeing you, the child he had lost, again. You belonged to him. Madness enveloped him as he looked at your innocent face. He leaned down to you, and in a soft voice, he whispered through subtle laughs, his warm breath on your ear: "I’m so happy to see you, little soldier. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. No one will hurt you again." The softness of his words completely contradicted the sea of blood he had left behind, but to him, it all made sense. He had brought you back. Finally, after so much suffering and pain, he had claimed you.

The floor was covered in blood, the echoes of the massacre ringing in his mind, but all he could focus on was you. You, his lost child, his little soldier. He watched you while you slept, completely unaware of what had just happened around you. And despite the violence, despite how horrible everything had been, he was happy. He knew that from now on, everything he touched, everything he desired, he would steal for himself. And finally, Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, felt that his life had regained something he could never have: control.

[atlasscrumpit]

Yandere Steve/Bucky

(au where they won the war, Steve didn't die and Bucky didn't fall off a train, set in the 40s)

Bucky looked down at you and smiled, running his hand through your hair.

"Steve's going to love you so much, darling girl. Our perfect girl." He whispered to himself while he played with your soft hair.

"Our perfect wife." He whispered, smiling before he heard the door open.

He left your room and saw Steve coming home.

"Hey, Buck." He muttered as Bucky smiled.

"I have a very special gift for you, punk." Bucky said as Steve looked at him in confusion and slight worry.

"What's going on?" Steve asked as Bucky grabbed his hand and pulled him to where you were unconscious.

"Y/N?" He muttered, quickly rushing up to your bedside.

"Is she okay?" He asked as Bucky smiled.

"She's perfect, Steve. You always talked about how perfect she would be as a wife. Now she can be." Bucky said as Steve looked at him with confusion.

"What? What are you on about?" Steve asked as he looked back at you and felt your forehead for a temperature.

"She doesn't know what's good for her, Steve. All those dates she goes on? Those disgusting men always around her, living in a crappy apartment by herself. The war is over, Steve. Don't we deserve a good life? Don't we deserve to have her as our perfect wife?" Bucky said as Steve looked at him in shock.

"Bucky, what the hell has gotten into you?" Steve asked as Bucky grit his teeth together.

"She is staying here! I burnt down her apartment anyway!" Bucky shouted as Steve looked at him in utter disbelief.

"Bucky... What the hell?" Steve growled before they heard a noise from you.

Steve looked back to see you starting to wake up.

"Buck, out. I won't mention what you did but I'm not letting you talk to her right now." Steve scolded as Bucky took a deep breath and left without another word.

Steve looked down at you as your eyes started to flutter open.

"Easy, Y/N." Steve whispered as you began to wake up.

"Steve? What's going on?" You asked as he helped you sit up, you were still pretty groggy.

"It's okay, you're at Bucky and I's apartment. What's the last thing you remember, love?" He asked as you tried to think back.

"I went out to lunch with Bucky and then I remember not feeling well so we went back to the car and then I fell asleep." You muttered as Steve nodded.

He needed to come up with a pretty good lie.

"Well, there was a fire at your apartment, nothing survived. I think Bucky was trying to find a way to tell you but he didn't want to wake you up." He said as you looked at him in confusion.

"My home burnt down?" You muttered with sadness in your eyes.

"Yes, love. But, it's okay, this can be your home now. You can stay with Bucky and I." He said as you nodded a little.

"Bucky was acting weird when we went to lunch, is he okay?" You asked, Steve sighed but nodded his head.

"Yeah, I think he's just a bit all over the place at the moment. After he came back from fighting he was different...but I guess that's to be expected. Especially because Hydra captured him." Steve replied as you nodded.

"Yeah... You're right."

--

Everything seemed suspicious about this situation, you trusted Steve and Bucky but they had been acting weirder than usual...especially Bucky.

You were making breakfast for them one morning and you felt arms wrap around your waist, you knew it was Bucky but your never been very affectionate with either of them.

"Buck?" You muttered as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

"I could get used to this." He muttered as you chuckled awkwardly.

"I just thought I would do something nice for you since you've let me stay here." You replied as he backed away a little.

"I was thinking... Why don't you live here permanently? I know you've been looking for other places but I don't think it's a good idea." He said as you looked at him in confusion.

"What do you mean?" You asked as sighed.

"Y/N, you can't live alone in an apartment you're whole life. Who's going to take care of you?" He asked, you looked at him and backed away.

"I can take care of myself, Bucky." You replied with anger evident in your voice.

"No, you can't Y/N. You need Steve and I, we will take care of you, spoil you and you can be our perfect little housewife." He said, stepping forward as you looked at him in fear.

"What the hell has gotten into you!" You shouted as he pushed you against the counter and kept a grip on your hip with one hand.

"You need me, you need us, we have to take care of you." He whispered as he leant in and forcefully kissed you.

You tried to push him away before someone grabbed him.

"Bucky, enough!" Steve yelled as Bucky backed away.

"Y/N, love. Thank you for breakfast, just go into your room while I sort this out, okay?" Steve said as you nodded and ran off obediently.

"Why does she obey you so easily!" Bucky says about to rush towards you before Steve grabbed him.

"Buck! Enough, you need to calm down. This is all too much for her, I agree that we have to take care of her but she needs time to settle in, okay?" Steve said in a stern way as Bucky sighed and nodded.

"You're right, we need to take it slow." He replied as Steve nodded and let him go.

"She'll realise she needs us soon enough."

[our-destiny]

If you’re comfortable with it can I request a blurb or headcannons (whatever you prefer) with yandere Bucky Barnes with a darling who never wears anything that goes above the knee but eventually they get comfortable (assuming they haven’t been yoinked at this point) with Bucky that they take a chance and wear something that’s above the knee, and they just have a lot of SH scars on their thighs. I struggle with it still so it’d be v comforting.

That or a darling with an eating disorder because they feel like they don’t deserve to eat, or others deserve it more than them (I also struggle with this) (multiple skill issues on my part👎)

Tyyy!

-💪🌝

Thank you for sending in a request, in this post I'll do SH scars but I'll do another post for an ED, and I'll link it here when I'm done. Anyway, we're gonna do headcanons! <33 Also I hope this helps comfort you bb

Yandere Bucky sees GN!Darling's self harm scars

Trigger Warnings: Self harm (both past and present), implied suicide, stalking, kidnapping, Bucky's a perv and watches you change + a sappy note at the end from yours truly - if I missed anything please let me know

Want to read more of my work? Check out my Masterlist

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . *  ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

First off, our baby boy here definitely stalks you, and has probably seen your scars when he'd watches you get changed (little pervert). So when he sees you wearing something that shows them, he won't be very surprised. Chances are he'll just gloss over them and not mention them to hopefully make you more comfortable. But let's talk about how he first felt when he saw them.

Bucky was absolutely heartbroken when he saw them. You hurt yourself? Why? He thinks you're the best person in the world, he would move Heaven and Earth for you, what made you do that? He's not judging you, no he would never. He's just worried.

He probably stays awake at night for the first few days when he finds out. Worrying if he's gonna lose you, or if he's done something wrong. His stalking gets more intense, wanting to make sure you don't do it again, or hurt yourself worse.

If they're fresh ones he thinks about confronting you. About giving you a long speech about how he loves you, trying to intervene and help. But then he remembers that you don't know he knows. He shouldn't know. So that idea gets scrapped. So now he has two options.

1. Take you home with him (he doesn't like the word ''kidnap'') so he can physically stop you, even if he has to tie you up or lock you somewhere.

Or 2. Physically stop you by just taking away whatever you're using to hurt yourself. Knives would be the easiest, he'd just take them when you weren't looking, and if you bought more he'd take them, too. But if it's something else (your own nails, burning yourself, hitting yourself) he'd have to do something else. In that case, he'd be forced to take you, to keep you by his side and under his watch so you didn't hurt the person he loves any more.

Either way he is incredibly worried, and would act as soon as possible to try and help you from the shadows. He'd also insist that he's here for you, that you can call him whenever you want, even if it's the middle of the night, your safety comes above anything of his. He just wants to make sure you stay by his side, and happy. Is that so bad?

If they were old ones and healed up he wouldn't be as worried but still heartbroken.

Even the thought you did something like that just makes him want to cradle you and kiss your cute face all over, reassure you for hours on end. But he can't, because you don't know that he knows.

Either way, he becomes a lot more clingy and reassuring, telling you he's here for you if you should ever need him and showering you with even more love. Again, once you actually showed him, he wouldn't mention it or make a big deal out of it, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or pressure you into talking. But if you do want to talk, he's all ears. And has snacks and cuddles at the ready to comfort you.

As always, don't hesitate to reach out if you are struggling, there are many resources available to help you, pkease use them. Even if you feel no one cares, I care. And I love you. So take care of yourselves <33

[yandere-wishes]

Normal People: "Why did u start writing Yandere content?"

Most Yandere Authors: "I wanted to express my dark desire for a forbidden romance through a creative medium. Forgoing social norms to create a love that is most cruel yet utterly true. To appease the lethal love that lays dormant within my bones, rattling me with its yearning for freedom. To show the world a love that is hideous, dangerous, yet wholly profuse. The sort of love only found under a moonless sky. A romance that can kill and heal with the same hand. To fashion ballads of broken hearts and damaged minds trapped in a waltz of shimmering hearts."

Me: I want to get kidnapped so I won't have any responsibilities.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Please can we have more Yan justice league?

Maybe the reader has a boyfriend in the military so she doesn't see him much and when he comes back to visit, the go on a fancy date before they crash it?

It would make it even better if they reacted to the boyfriend about to propose to her!

A Day in Life: Heartbreaks

Synopsis: A day in your life where your yanderes find a secret of yours and tell you another one.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Modern!40s!Bucky Barnes X Reader

Tw: Bucky you’re one of my fav characters from Marvel, I'm so sorry I did u dirty😭; Heavy mentions of cheating and NO forgiving; Stalking; English isn’t my 1st language.

Word count: 1k

Requested? Duh.

Extra notes: I should be studying instead of writing this. Also omg I got so many requests in just a few hours, thank you very much!! I'm writing them all!!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Since most of your days became filled with stress and anxiety, you started appreciating even more moments where you could just forget all your problems, from small ones — like, lack of motivation to go to the gym, bad hair days and an ingredient you forgot at your fridge and became rotten—, and big, out of your control ones — like seven superheroes, who you see almost everyday, stalking you.

Your boyfriend getting back was one of the best dic(k)strations.

Bucky was a sergeant, he spent weeks, even months, away from you on missions. It was hard, but you were both busy people, so your mind was usually too stimulated to think about boy problems only all day, most adults were, and you believed the hard work would be worth it one day. The future was hopefully bright.

The League never mentioned him. Actually, some of them implied more than once that they thought you were available, so they probably didn't know about your relationship. You didn't use much social media and your boyfriend got especially busy this year, so it made sense.

He paid for you to get your nails done earlier and took you to a nice restaurant. After that, Bucky took you for a walk around the city, lively and beautiful even at night, and stopped at the park where your first date happened. Everything was fine, until he got on his knees. Suddenly, seven, mostly colorful, figures descended upon you from out of nowhere, screaming.

— (Y/N)! YOU CAN'T MARRY HIM! — Flash’s voice startled you, confirming your suspicions to who the group was.

You growled.

— SERIOUSLY? LEAVE ME ALONE! IT'S MY DAY OFF! — Bucky, who had swiftly gotten up with his fast reflexes as soon as the heroes charged, blinked at the sight. He looked between you all.

— Doll? What’s this? — You looked apologetic at him.

— Sorry, Bucky. Since I got my job, my bosses got… Protective over me… — You didn't want him to get hurt. Bucky and his friends had a great sense of justice and hated bullies. He would surely want to do something if he knew the true extent of things. You also didn't want to ruin the vision he had of his idols.

Since their obsessive behavior started, you just counted your lucky stars that they would just get tired of you one day or wouldn't sabotage your relationships. They seemed fine with you having friends, but dating was different.

You turned to the League.

— Go! — They shook their heads.

— You can't trust this bastard, darling. We have proof of his betrayal to you. — You looked at Wonder Woman skeptically and crossed your arms. Bucky gulped.

— Oh, really? How so? — You raised an eyebrow.

Batman fiddled with his wrist computer, a second later, a protection was shown and different pictures and videos of your man talking and being very intimate with someone very familiar to you appeared. Your stomach churned and your heart ached.

— This is fake! Doll, you have to believe me! — Bucky cried out and got in front of you, holding your shoulders, trying to cover your vision from the images. You took a step back and kept looking at the images.

The League had more than enough means necessary to fake all of this, but you knew Natasha was Bucky’s ex, and they were still friends and coworkers, even with their intense heartbreak. You sometimes got insecure and worried since they spent so much time together, but he always told you you had nothing to worry about…

You gulped.

The League was all glaring at his back while he shouted a hundred words per minute, desperately trying to convince you he was telling the truth.

Superman growled and walked forward until he grabbed Bucky by his shoulders and pulled him away from you.

— Stay away from them, you asshole. (Y/N), I would never do that to you. — You ignored Green Lantern's words, like you were doing since the pacifier incident. You knew he was getting desperate and that made you specially scared, but at least he gave you some distance.

— Not now. — Batman took a step forward. — A few hours ago, we discovered your relationship. For security reasons, we searched, and found these pictures and conversations from his second social accounts, that he uses to commit his cheating.

— He didn't try to hide much, he thought he wouldn't get caught. — Flash stated.

— I-I need more proof… These could be old… — Your first words spoken made Bucky shut up. Mind scrambling for something.

— Let the Lasso of Truth speak for him. — In a second, the Lasso was thrown around Bucky's torso and he was squirming. — Speak, you worthless mortal! — Wonder Woman ordered.

Bucky was able to struggle for a few seconds, before he blurted out.

— It's truth! It's truth! I told her we broke up and started dating her again! I thought I could have you both at the same time!

You gasped. Your hand shot to your chest.

Flash was on your side in a second, trying to hug and comfort you, but you pushed him away. You started crying from heartbreak and anger.

— HOW COULD YOU?! — You glared at him and pointed at his face.

— Doll… I swear I love you both. But I'm also narcissistic, insecure and look down on women. — The Lasso was really doing its job. You laughed humorlessly.

You had nothing to say anymore. No reason to stay. You took advantage of his tied arms and got close, punched his nose, and stomped away.

The League contemplated going after you and trying to bring you comfort, but Batman and Martian Manhunter decided to just let Bucky go (after intimidating him so as to not get close to you again) and follow you discreetly, watching you from the shadows, intervening only if necessary.

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@wandalfnation

[unlikelykidpost]

This is my first time posting here, but I really want to hear from my fellow POC. Is anyone else tired of reading stories where it’s all about the main character x reader? You dive in, expecting a really inclusive narrative, but then it hits you: “Their cheeks glowed pink!” Seriously? Where am I getting that rosy hue? Or when the character casually puts their hair into an easy ponytail—come on, it takes me forever just to get my hair in a ponytail! You know what I mean, right..??

It's frustrating when the story drops hints that suggest the 'reader' is white. It really grinds my gears, and I wish writers would stop doing that, or at least include a warning that the reader character is going to be white. I want stories to be genuinely inclusive and for writers to be more flexible in how they describe characters. It’s disappointing when you can tell that a writer based their characters on white experiences and WHITE PEOPLE. but thats all, thanks for listening to my ted talk!!

[nosyp]

Unwilling Devotion

Chapter 1 - Unwelcomed Guests

Warnings = Kidnapping, dark

Pairing = Dark! Avengers x reader

Summary = You work as a barista for a cafe and Natasha and her friends would always visit. That was until one day, everything changed.

Word count = 2.6k words

A/N = First time attempting a series... pls be nice! Feedback is appreciated!!!

Last edited = 23 Dec 24

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Chapter 1 - The Unwelcomed Guests

Ring! 

The sound of the bell ringing alerted you and you immediately rose to attend to the new customer. 

“Uhm-! Hi! Welcome, what can I do for you?” you stammered, greeting the customer.

She didn’t respond and only stared at you, looking kind of taken aback but quickly composed herself and went back to examining the menu. 

You watched as she trailed her fingers through the menu looking for something of interest. The silence between you two was suffocating but she didn’t seem to mind. The awkwardness only stretched longer as you tried to keep a smile on your face while waiting for her. This happened often with new customers, and you never got used to it. 

‘Please say something, I’m dying here,’ you think to yourself, trying to keep yourself calm. Then you finally spoke up, “Ermm, we have a wide variety of flavours for our scones, so far the chocolate is the favorite amongst customers.”

Her gaze shifted to you and she perked an eyebrow. “Oh really?” she asks. “Well I’ll take that then,”

You let out a sigh of relief, ringing up her order and handing it to her with a forced smile, masking the tension that had been building from the awkward silence. Your eyes followed her beautiful red hair as she left. 

Now that you think of it, her outfit was kind of odd. She was wearing a tight black suit from her neck down. But you couldn’t lie, her figure was amazing so she’s probably just flaunting it. 

From that day, she’s visited daily, never missing a day. Sometimes she’d bring some of her friends while other times, she'd visit all alone. It was quite usual for customers to keep coming back but… this time felt weird. Most of the times when they’d return, you’d be glad to serve them but you dreaded whenever she came. Overtime, you learnt from her friends that her name was something along the lines of ‘Natalie’ or ‘Natasha’ or something like that

What made it even more concerning was the fact that sometimes she and some of her friends were covered in blood when they came in. You hadn’t dared to question it since their aura was quite intimidating already. The atmosphere shifted as soon as their foot stepped past the threshold. It could go from a calm and cozy atmosphere to an intense and heavy atmosphere, even the other customers felt it. They’d often ask you what was up with the group but all you could do was shrug in response.

The next few days felt the same. She came in every day, never saying much, always leaving you with that strange feeling of being watched. Sometimes she came alone, or other times she’d bring some of her friends. But no matter who she was with, there was always an intensity that followed her wherever she went, even into the small, cozy cafe.

Then, one night, the cafe was nearly empty. The wind outside howled, and the street lights flickered, casting odd shadows against the windows. You were cleaning up, getting ready to close when you heard the bell ring again. But this time, it was different. It wasn’t the usual polite silence that followed her arrival. There was something heavier in the air.

You turned, and there she was again, but this time, she wasn’t alone. Standing next to her was a man in a dark suit, you recognized him from the many ads you saw. You swore his name was…. Something stark? Whatever. And beside him… you recognized the others from her usual group. Each one of them was standing too still, too perfectly, almost as if they were waiting for something.

The woman, Natasha, didn’t say anything at first, but her gaze locked onto you immediately, her eyes dark and unreadable. It felt like she was seeing right through you.

"Late night for you, huh?" she said casually, walking toward the counter. "We’re not here for scones tonight."

Your heart started racing, but you forced yourself to smile, trying to maintain some normalcy despite the heavy feeling that seemed to seep into the walls of the café. "We’re almost closing, actually–"

Before you could finish, the man in the suit stepped forward. You didn’t know his name, but his presence alone was scary, his eyes looked cold and… calculating. "Actually, I think you’ll want to stay open for a little longer."

Your hands trembled as you went to the counter. Their arrival felt weird, like it was a trap that could catch you at any moment.

"Hello, how can I help you today?" you finally managed to ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

Natasha smiled at you, her grin felt off though. "Actually," she said, voice lowering, "I think we can help you."

You felt your breath get stuck in your throat. Something wasn’t right. “E-excuse me? I’m not too sure what you mean by that…” you stammered, breath hitching. 

Her smile widened, and she leaned forward, her red hair falling over her shoulder as she rested her elbows on the counter. "Oh, sweetheart," she purred, her tone dripping with fake concern, "don’t play dumb now. You’re smarter than that, aren’t you?"

The man behind her shifted, his hands crossed in front of his chest, eyes never leaving you. The others fanned out, moving with the kind of deliberate grace that sent chills down your spine. One of them was a tall blonde-haired woman with sharp features. She began looking through the shelves behind you.

“Holy, you’ve got a lot of nice stuff here,” she whispered underneath her breath.

‘Run, lock the doors, do anything, something.’ you screamed at yourself internally."I-I think you have the wrong person," you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of the moment. You felt so small in their gazes.

Natasha tilted her head, her smile fading into something more sinister. "Wrong person?" she repeated, as if testing the words. Her eyes had a hint of something, something dangerous. "You’re kinda cute when you’re nervous, you know that?"

The tension was suffocating now. The tall man then got closer, his boots creating a heavy thud with every step. "We’re not here to hurt you," he said, though his tone was anything but comforting. "Not unless you give us a reason to."

Your legs felt like jelly as you tried to step back, your back bumping against the huge, muscular man behind you. “Hey darling,” he whispers, making you flinch away from him. 

"I-I don’t understand. What do you want from me?" you ask. 

Natasha straightened, her expression softening just slightly, though it felt more like a predator playing with its prey. "Relax," she said, her voice almost soothing now. "We’re just... interested in you. Let’s call it professional curiosity."

"Professional?" you repeated, barely able to keep the tremor out of your voice.

She grinned, then opened her mouth again. "Something like that. You’ve caught our attention, and trust me, that’s not very common. But you..." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "You’re special."

You felt your heart skip a beat as her words processed in your head. "I—I’m just a girl working at a cafe," you said desperately. "There’s NOTHING special about me."

Natasha chuckled softly at your reaction. "Oh, honey," she said, her gaze locking onto yours, "you have no idea, do you?"

Before you could respond, the lights flickered, as if it was planned. Shadows were casted around the room and disappeared back into the darkness. You saw the group behind her exchange glances. You couldn’t tell what they were saying or signalling but you knew it was nothing good. 

Natasha’s smile faded entirely, replaced by a look of cold determination. "Close up," she said. From her tone, you could tell it was a demand that you couldn’t deny.

"What?"

"You heard me," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Lock the doors. Turn off the lights, do whatever you need to do. And then, we’ll have a little chat."

Every piece of your being screamed at you to say no, to run, to do anything but comply, but as her gaze bore into you which made you realise something chilling. You simply didn’t have a choice, all you could do was comply at this point.

Your fingers shuffled through the keys as you hesitated, glancing at Natasha and her group every once in a while. Each second felt like a long hour, so many pairs of eyes were on you. "I... I don’t understand," you murmured, your voice almost not clear enough.

Natasha tilted her head, her patience visibly wearing thin. "Lock. The. Door," she repeated, her words clipped but weirdly calm.

With trembling hands, you reached for the door, turning the lock with a click. The sound felt like a huge bell, reverberating through the silence of the cafe.

"Good," Natasha said, her smile returning. "Now, why don’t we all take a seat?"

She gestured toward one of the corner booths, but the invitation felt more like a command. You glanced at the clock on the wall, hoping for some sort of reprieve, but the hands seemed frozen, just like you.

The man in the dark suit’s voice suddenly broke the silence. "We can do this the easy way," he said with a slight threat in his words. "Or the hard way. Your choice."

“Why should I listen to you?” you spat out.

His eyes widened at your response. “You know you shouldn’t speak to us that way, we’re just here to save you,” he says. 

Save you? What does he mean by that?

“Calm down Tony, let them go at their own pace.” Natasha says.

Reluctantly, you moved toward the booth, your legs shaky as Natasha slid in across from you. The rest of the group remained standing, their eyes trained on you like hawks circling prey.

Natasha then folded her hands on the table, and her body leaned in. "So," she began, her tone almost conversational, "you’ve been working here for, what, six months? A year?"

"Eight months," you replied. Why were they asking about your job?

She nodded thoughtfully. "Eight months. That’s long enough to notice things. Patterns. People." Her eyes gleamed, and you had the unsettling feeling that this wasn’t small talk.

"I don’t-" you tried to say. 

"Save it," she interrupted, before she started again. "We’re not here to play games. Surprisingly… you’re actually in a position to help us. And… whether you like it or not, you’ve already seen too much."

"Excuse me? Seen too much?" your voice echoed, your confusion evident. "I don’t know what you’re talking about!" your voice rising. 

A dark-skinned man then stepped out of the shadows. "You’ve noticed us. Every time we’ve come in. You’ve seen us covered in blood. You’ve heard the whispers from the other customers. Don’t pretend you haven’t."

Your stomach churned as the memories flashed through your mind. Their glances, the blood stains on their clothes, the silenced voices that stopped as soon as you came close. You’d written it off as strange but took it as strictly out of your business. Well that was… until now.

"I didn’t say anything," you blurted out, panic rising in your chest. "I didn’t tell anyone!"

The cold, suffocating atmosphere of the café became unbearable. The group’s all had their gazes locked onto you, and gosh it was scary. 

“I-I need to grab something from the back,” you stammered, your finger pointing towards the kitchen. Natasha’s eyes followed your finger, then went back to you.

“Go ahead,” she said with a smirk, leaning back in the booth. “But don’t keep us waiting too long, sweetheart.”

Her voice was full with mockery, but you forced a smile. You nodded as you backed away and disappeared through the swinging door into the back. Your heart pounded like a drum in your ears, drowning out everything else.

You couldn’t stay. You can’t let them do this. Could you?

All of a sudden, in a moment of desperation, you grabbed your coat and bag from the staff locker, stuffing your trembling hands into the pockets. Your fingers brushed against your phone. You hurriedly pulled it out to call for help. 

But… when you turned it on, the signal was gone. Of course, after all these people are probably well trained criminals. They must’ve jammed the single somehow. A pit formed in your stomach, but you pushed forward. There had to be another way.

Your eyes darted to the back door. You still had the keys after all. If somehow you could just slip out quietly, maybe they wouldn’t even realize and you could just escape. BINGO! You’re a genius. Well you thought. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” a low voice rumbled behind you, pausing all your thoughts of escaping.

You turned around to find one of Natasha’s friends, ‘Steve’ or something, you totally forgot his name but he was blonde, and tall. If you weren’t wrong you swore you saw two of them like that.

His huge frame was leaning in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed and a disgusting smirk plastered on his face. He was blocking your only exit back to the main room.

“J-just grabbing something,” you lied through your teeth, voice filled with fear.

He tilted his head, watching you in amusement. “Sure you are. And… you should know, she doesn’t like liars. And you shouldn’t test her.”

He took a step forward, and you took a step back. You didn’t even think about it. Your feet just moved, and you found yourself sprinting towards the back door as fast as you could. 

The cold outside air hit your face as soon as you shoved the door open, the alley behind the cafe called out to you. For a split second, you felt a rush of relief, as if you actually could escape. 

Then, you suddenly felt a grip on your arm. The grip got more intense as you tried to pry it off, slightly scraping him with your fingernails.

You screamed, and instinctively started squirming and kicking him. You tried to hit as hard as you could, but the grip was too strong. What is wrong with him? There’s no way he’s human. 

Your mind raced as you saw the blondie had caught up to you in an instant. His strength was overwhelming as he forced you back into the café.

“You’re feisty,” he muttered, almost amused. “But we can’t have you running off.”

“Let me go!” you cried, struggling uselessly against his grip.

By the time he dragged you back through the café, Natasha and the others were waiting by the front door. She sighed dramatically when she saw you, shaking her head as if disappointed.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” her voice interrupting the silence. “I was really hoping you’d cooperate, darling. But I guess things don’t always go our way.”

“Please,” you begged as tears streamed down your face while the tall man pushed you to your knees. “I don’t know anything! Just let me go!”

Natasha crouched down, her hand reaching out to tilt your chin up so you were forced to meet her eyes. You could swear they were the eyes of the devil. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” she said, her voice soft but menacing. “Not until we’re done with you.”

Then you blacked out. Consciousness leaving your being. 

[thegoodwitchsworld]

Roommate!Bucky x reader

Roommate!Bucky who watches you sleep from your doorway- your dark lashes against your cheeks, your hair In a messy braid, your soft plump lips begging to be kissed.

Roommate!Bucky who always brings you flowers at the end of the day because "a rose deserves a rose doll"

You laugh at his cheesiness and slap his chest playfully. "Stop it Bucky!"

Roommate!Bucky who always lets you sleep in his bed with him because "I am so c-cold Bucky-", "Let me cuddle you up doll"

Roommate!Bucky who always makes you food because you forget to eat yourself

Roommate!Bucky who lets you put pink cushions in his bed for when you sleep with him because he adores you and you hung up the stars in the sky.

Roommate!Bucky who's frustrated with just how oblivious you are to his feelings towards him.

Roommate!Bucky, who just needs excuses to touch you - hey, you got some jam in your hair. Hey, you got some lint on your cheek. Hey, what's this on your arm

And Roommate!Bucky who's a serial killer.

So when his vague sketch shows up on the news, he insists you go out for a movie together so you don't see its him

Roommate!Bucky who doesn't know you're already aware he's murdering people

You saw his bloody knives and you get guessed he was killing SOMEthing at least.

You just don't mind because at least he's so good to you, right?

Roommate!Bucky who eventually realizes you know when you read the newspaper and comment.

"They never get your eyes right".

Roommate!Bucky who realizes you're unbothered, so neither of you bring it up again.

But Roommate!Bucky who sees you walking home with a stranger, laughing and hitting his arm playfully

So he silently adds another to his body count.

It's not like you didn't know, right?

[highonmarvel]

Heyy love your work. I wanted to make a request for Bucky Barne was thinking something like reader goes to his house for Christmas but then he forcefully drugs her with a syringe and she's held captive. But he's overal nice enough. He'd let her kick or scream or fight back. But then one day he lets her out of the basement or wherever he keeps her and she tries to escape and succeeds to some degree He manages to catch her and he snaps, gets angry and punishes her and she's scared cuz he snapped.

Winter

i love this! i’m sorry this isn’t proofread—i’m late as is and needed to get this out into the world so at least some people can read this as they lie in bed and have it be relevant. also, i’m so sorry, i left out the syringe bit because i got too into the plot i conjured up with the food coma here, sorry, sweetheart, but please, send another request if you really want to see it get done. let me know your thoughts, also to my sister @thehydraethereal. with that out of the way:

Bucky Barnes: A Christmas dinner opens your eyes to a new type of Winter.

additional content warnings here!

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

It wasn’t that you were technically averse to relationships or had commitment issues, you just feel like at this point in your life a solid relationship wasn’t really going to work. You had been travelling to the other side of the country quite a bit to take care of your sister, but this Christmas, your parents went down, so you didn’t really have an excuse to bail when Bucky invited you to dinner.

You don’t think you’re technically dating him–you don’t ever recall you or him asking the other to be their partner–but you’ve at least been going out with him for a few months. Guess you’d have to face him at some point; it’s been nearly three weeks since he had suggested you live together, which had caught you completely off-guard. You had managed to side-step the conversation at the time before making up some bullshit excuse to leave, and you haven’t had the courage to face him since.

Pulling into Bucky’s driveway always makes you feel a little uneasy; he doesn’t live like a hermit or overly secluded, but for some reason the houses in this suburb seem just a little too far apart for comfort–no one really has ‘neighbours.’

The scent of a very well-cooked meal carries right up to the front door, making you take a deep whiff before knocking.

“Hi, honey,” Bucky answers the door, leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“God, I’m practically drooling out here,” you say, and Bucky laughs as he steps out of the way and allows you in. “How long have you been standing?”

“Ah, a few hours,” he admits, sheepishly, watching you hang your coat up and rubbing the back of his neck when you raise your eyebrows at him.

“But it’s just the two of us, no?” you question as you lead him into the kitchen (maybe you being so casual in his home gave him the impression you’d like to move in with him).

“Yeah,” he replies, tailing you. “But I realised I don’t really know what you like and I panicked a bit.”

You giggle and that seems to ease his apparent embarrassment, allowing him to let out a breathless laugh as he moves into the kitchen, standing on the other side of the island as you settle on a stool.

“How have you been?” he inquires as he pours you a glass of wine, not making eye contact.

“Alright,” you reply, watching the red liquid slosh into the glass. “Glad to have some time off.”

“How’s your sister?”

You sigh and mouth a thank you to him as he slides the glass towards you. After a sip, you look up at him. “Better, I think, and she’s only allowed two visitors at a time–my parents really wanted to see her so I let them for Christmas, they don’t really get a chance otherwise.”

He hums in understanding as he puts on pink oven mitts and crouches down.

“Are you disappointed?” he asks loudly as he pulls a dish out of the oven.

You shrug. “I’d have liked to go, but I’m not all that sad about it. I don’t have much going for me in New York, so I was worried I’d be bored, but I’m having a good time.

“You just got here!” He laughs as he rises with a turkey.

“I know, but wine.” You raise your glass to him and peer into the ceramic dish. “Turkey?” you ask, which he responds to with a hum of affirmation.

“I don’t really like it, not sure if you do.”

“I like it. I would have thought you patriots like Thanksgiving stuff, though.”

You help him set up a few dishes across a small dining table and sit down.

“This was really sweet, Bucky.” You smile, tone sincere and nearly sappy as he cuts you a large leg of turkey. “Doesn’t this stuff make you sleepy?” you joke, and it takes him just a beat too long to chuckle.

“I think that’s a myth, actually,” he responds as he sits back down across from you.

“Really?” you raise your eyebrows as you dig your knife and fork into the leg. “I could have sworn...”

“Is it good?” he asks, watching you carefully, and with a kind of interest that makes you slightly uneasy, but you can’t deny it’s heavenly. You nod enthusiastically and point to the meat.

“God, this is great! You’d swear there was cocaine in here or something.”

Something lights in his eyes for a second, a spark you mistake for happiness. Bucky has always loved nothing more than to see you happy and relaxed: one of the reasons you were so drawn to him was his genuine desire to not only make you as happy as possible, but to appreciate that joy. Sometimes you got the impression making you happy pleased him almost as much as it pleased you, if not more. And it was times like these you felt bad you weren’t really able to make a commitment to him. He never seemed to mind it all too much, but you can tell it’s something he wants, and you almost feel like you’re taking advantage of his affection–but he knows, and you know, and if he isn’t happy with this arrangement, surely he’d say something.

But Bucky has to bite back the retort, “Well, not that drug.”

After a hearty meal you only put down when you feel you’re genuinely on the verge of passing out, you push away your plate. “Woo! I don’t know how I’m ever gonna work that off. I think I’ve gained, like, 10.”

“You're perfect the way you are,” Bucky says, leaning down to press his lips to your cheek as he clears the table.

You close your eyes and hum in delight, but you find it a little hard to open them again. When you manage to pry your eyes open again, it’s not much, still looking at the table through droopy lids. You stand and sway, rattling your chair as you grapple the table for support.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks as he reappears in your line of sight, brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah,” you respond, squeezing your eyes shut and ripping them open again. “But I really should get going.”

“Get going?” he repeats, moving to your side for support as you stumble forward. “I don’t think you should drive right now.”

But you dismiss him with a wave of your hand, pushing off of him to stand up straight. You think you say, “I’m fine. I’ll call you.” but you can’t really make out the words through the slight slurring.

“Lie down,” he offers gently, taking a step towards his bedroom.

“No…” you tear your arm free of his grasp. You had spent the night with him before, but for a reason you can’t figure out, this time, something is screaming at you to decline.

“Really, darling, you need to,” he insists, his voice having dropped to a low murmur. He takes a step forward and you instinctively take a step back, feeling a little guilty when he stops dead in his tracks and something like hurt flashes across his features. You know something that makes Bucky wince is when he feels someone is afraid of him, and you can only imagine how he must feel now if you’re the one displaying apprehension.

You shake your head and turn away from him to the doorway.

“Hey...” You startle as you feel his grip on your forearm, gentle, but firm. “You’re not leaving.” The words are said in a sincerely concerned way, but the fact the statement came off as more of a command than a suggestion really triggers something in you.

“Bucky...” you groan as you uselessly try to pull away, feeling weaker than you otherwise would, even against him.

He doesn’t have to give too sharp of a tug to make you stumble into his arms, his hold on you steady, and, at any other time, safe, but now it feels more certain, somehow, almost possessive. You try to protest but you’re practically babbling incoherently under him, head lolled to the side as he adjusts his grip from under your arms to pick you up bridal style.

“Just lie down for a second...”

And you’re too out of it to notice he’s passed his bedroom door.

***

It’s difficult to open your eyes again, your lashes stuck together as you turn your head over. When vision slowly comes back to you, you’re met with a midcentury wooden bedside table you don’t recognise. You prop yourself up on your forearm and squint into the room, looking for any signs of familiarity, and the only thing you recognise is the thing you dread.

“What…” you begin to mutter, and Bucky looks up from the book he’s reading with a smile.

“You’re up.” He stands from the chair positioned by ‘your’ (this isn’t your bed) beside and moves to sit on the edge, placing a hand to your forehead. “How’re you feeling?”

You weakly slap his hand away as you start to really wake up and realise what’s going on.

“I’m not… this isn’t… what…” you can’t really find the words to ask the questions you need answers to.

“It’s your Christmas present!” he says with a grin, standing to make a grand gesture with his arms, out to the room. I’ve got your favourite books here, I remember you telling me you used to want a four poster princess bed.” He points to the ceiling and sure enough, pretty curtains hang over your head. “But if you don’t like it I can change it.” He shrugs and stands somewhat nervously as he waits for you to react.

“What… the fuck.”

He tsks and swings his arms back and forth, rocking on his heels.

“I set it up for you a few weeks ago, I didn’t know if you’d be comfortable sleeping with me every night, I know you like your space.”

“Are you out of your mind!?” You throw the sheets off of you and manage to stand, even though your head feels a little heavy.

He sighs and steps forward. “I know it feels like–”

“Oh, you know what it feels like? You know what it feels like to be ostensibly kidnapped by your boyfriend?”

He blushes. “So I am your boyfriend.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” You throw a pillow at him (ineffective but it was the nearest thing) which he catches with ease and turns over to reveal an embroidered flower. “I made this,” he says, proudly.

“What the fuck!?” you shriek as you throw another pillow at him, this one he dodges easily.

You’ve never seen him like this, nearly giddy and, in this context, borderline delusional. It makes you grip onto your hair and bunch your fingers into the locks. “Oh, my god, you’re insane!”

“I’m not the one yelling and throwing things,” he mutters, and your eyes snap up to his.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you begin, exasperated. “I’m so fucking sorry I don’t react well to crimes committed against me.”

“You came into my house.”

“Yes, but I didn’t come into this room! Do you really expect me to believe I can just leave anytime? That that door isn’t locked. You think I’m fucking stupid?”

He gently tosses the pillow back onto the bed and winces. “I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

“Bucky,” you begin, carefully, voice dangerously low as you step up to him. “I don’t know what in god’s name has gotten into you, but I’m not having it. I’m leaving.”

“Sweetheart, you really don’t intimidate me.” And the way he says it with such sincere pity makes you shove at his chest. He doesn’t stumble, but he takes a step back for your benefit.

You match his step and poke your finger in his chest, glaring up at him with more fury than you thought you had and trying your hardest not to wrap your hand around his throat. What really pisses you off is his patronising speech; you can tell he genuinely thinks he’s doing good, and that he honestly feels bad that you can’t appreciate it, that you’re weaker than him, and it boils your blood. Apathy or even mockery would be better than this condescending way he’s deluded himself into believing this is for your benefit.

“Don’t call me sweetheart, you piece of shit. If that door is locked, you’re gonna unlock it, and you’re going to leave me the fuck alone.” You practically spit the words at him through gritted teeth, seething to the point you can feel heat radiating from your body and wouldn’t be surprised if there was literal steam coming out of your ears.

“Sit down, angel.”

“Talk to me like that again and there will be nothing angelic about what I do to you.”

“Your mother called.”

That gets your attention and your anger dissipates for a moment. “Really? What did she say?”

When he guides you to sit down, you’re not really in the space to fight him off, waiting to hear any news from your family.

“They’re coming down in a few days, for New Year’s, and, they’re bringing your sister–they say she’s stable enough for travel.”

You feel your eyes begin to water at the thought of your sister being that strong, of being able to talk to her like you used to, before she got sick. But you snap out of it, and that swelling in your heart turns to something close to anxiety, but closer to suspicion. “Why are you telling me this?”

He scoffs as if you’re asking him if the sky is blue. “Because I know you want to see them. I told them they could stay with us for a few days.”

“With us?”

He just blinks. “Yes, with us.”

“You must be out of your fucking mind if you think…” And the next few hours are spent with you screaming in his face, swinging punches which he easily dodges, but sometimes he humours you and allows you a hit–not like it hurts anyway. His calm demeanour and ‘care’ makes you infuriated beyond belief, and by the end of the night the room has been trashed, there are scratches on the door from your desperate clawing and pounding, your voice is hoarse from all the yelling, and you’re exhausted while Bucky is no more beaten than when you first woke up.

Eventually, you’ve physically exhausted yourself so much you can’t even push him away when he climbs into bed next to you and holds you in his arms, placing your head against his chest and caressing your hair, which he knows always relaxes you and helps you fall asleep.

***

You only know it’s morning when you wake up because Bucky greets you with it, but it doesn’t take long for your attention to fall to the walls, noticing there aren’t any windows.

“We’re in the basement, you know.” Bucky comments, watching your eyes dart around the room and catching on to what you’re doing. “I don’t have a spare room, you know that.”

You’re nearly tired of glaring daggers at him seeing as he doesn’t really feel it–if anything, it seems to spur him on, like he doesn’t really care what you do as long as he gets some kind of reaction out of you. If you remained as stoic as he did, maybe that would give him pause for thought, but you really can’t resist the urge to attack him, and he somehow sees it as endearing, like any attention you give him makes his heart swell.

Initially, you refuse his invitation for breakfast upstairs, but when that morning grumpiness subsides, you let your stubbornness fall away in favour of opportunity. This really solidifies in your mind Bucky is so convinced you’ll stay that he doesn’t really worry about turning his back on you as he flips an egg.

“Where’re you going?”

You stop dead in your tracks, shocked he had heard you get up when you were practically sneaking like a cartoonish villain.

“To the bathroom,” you lie, to which he responds with a simple, “Okay.”

It’s too easy, but you’d rather take your chances than wonder if this is some kind of setup. You have to get out of here as soon as possible, so you don’t have time to look for your car keys, but you hesitate at the door. It’s beginning to snow, and you’re not dressed anywhere near enough to make it to a neighbour–the only thing that had kept you warm before coming up to see him was that nice coat, but it’s not on the rack anymore.

There’re only a few locks you have to turn to quietly open the door, your teeth chattering as a cold breeze hits you so hard it’s painful, like your skin is literally freezing onto your bones. You’re barefoot, no less. You can’t kid yourself into thinking you won’t lose a toe or some extremities in the process, but you can not stay. It really has only been one night, but something you’ve never liked in your life is being trapped, makes your skin crawl to the point you’d rather shed it than be deprived of freedom, especially when you’ve got the chance to see your family soon. And besides, it’s really not that long of a walk to the next house, you won’t die out there, but you can only vaguely make it out through the snow, and if you scream, it’ll surely be drowned by the harsh winds. With one last glance behind you, you step into the snow, and instantly regret it, your feet set close to frozen in just a few seconds, and goosebumps rising so quickly across your skin it feels like you’ve suddenly broken out in hives. And just as you consider turning back, you’re shoved forward, and you shriek as you land face first in the snow, afraid of crying at the impact lest your tears turn to ice right on your cheeks.

You’re gripped by the arm and pulled upright, before being again pushed further away from the house you can feel radiating warmth just through the open door. You gasp for air as you manage to bring yourself to your hands and knees, fingers curling into the snow and slowly becoming numb. A harsh gust blows, nearly knocking you off balance, and you squint to look up at the door, Bucky standing before you in little more than a long-sleeved t-shirt (he’s more underdressed than you) and sweatpants, hair still a little messy with sleep, but the look in his eyes, it’s a look you’ve never been on the receiving end of–in fact, you’ve never even seen it, but you can recognise it immediately.

“You forget I’m the Winter Soldier.” You’re not sure how his deep growl manages to carry across the howling of the winds, but you don’t have time to figure it out before a metal hand grips a fistful of your hair and you’re dragged through the snow, instinctively trying to plant your feet in the ground to stop him but even if you could match his strength, the cold is unbearable, and your legs are starting to feel numb, yet still stiff.

You don’t have time to be grateful that you’ve been thrown back into warmth as you slide across the floor and Bucky kicks the door shut behind him. From a hallway table, he pulls out a wrench, and you struggle to get your arms and legs to move away from him as he approaches you, menacingly.

You don’t know how such slow and heavy footsteps manage to catch up to you so quickly, but soon he’s got his boot pressing down on your ankle, preventing you from doing more than thrashing around. He leans down and grips your face roughly, forcibly pulling you up to meet him, and his eyes are so void of emotion he nearly looks dead. He doesn’t look angry, he looks like he just can’t feel.

“I do all this for you, and you can’t even offer me a pretty little smile.” His large fingers reach into your mouth, pulling your lips and teeth apart wide, wide enough for him to shove the wrench into your mouth and attach it to one of your teeth. “You don’t know what you have until it’s gone. Maybe you’ll appreciate it more if it just wasn’t the same.” You feel your gum twist and let out a cry, gurgling through your throat. Your frail fingers grasp onto his wrist as you desperately try to shake your head, but his strong hold prevents you from it. He twists a little more and you squeeze your eyes shut, holding your breath, before he eventually pulls out and you gasp for dear life, tears stinging your vision.

He roughly tugs you up and practically throws you into a nearby chair, before taking your hand with surprising gentleness, caressing your hurting fingers with the back of his for a moment before adjusting his grip to bring the wrench back forward.

“Now this is no good…” he remarks, moving his head to see more of your frostbitten marks you’re sure will leave scars. “You know what happens to these?” The wrench attacks itself to your index finger and Bucky adjusts its width so it’s threatening to chop your finger right off.

You scream at him to let go, kicking at his legs gets no reaction out of him, but don’t dare to move the hand he’s still holding.

“What if I just…” He twists only slightly and your skin breaks, blood seeping down from your frayed skin and dripping onto your thigh.

Just as you’re about to let out an unstoppable shriek of pain, Bucky’s metal hand presses to your mouth, stopping the sound going any further than echoing off his palm for only you to hear again. He twists more and you move your wrist with it, trying anything to stop him from twisting your finger off. He notices this and removes his other hand from your mouth to hold your wrist firmly in place.

“Bucky, please–”

“Shut up!” he shouts, his hold on you tightening even further. He lowers his face to yours with wide eyes, jaw clenched impossibly tight, and speaks in a dangerously low register, his voice trembling with fury as he tries to hold it together, at least in demeanour if not in action. “You really fucked up, and if you don’t have any fingers, you won’t be able to open my door ever again.”

✪

[my beloved taglist: @cowboysnbugs, @keito-123, @vogueprincess, @cjand10, @mybabygirllove]

[usetheeauthor]

Kinkmas Day 3: Love Faces + Babytrapping + Bathroom Sex

Older!Realtor!Edward Lemuel/Guy Moratz x Bimbo!Influencer!Reader

Warnings: age gap (ed: early 50s, reader: mid 20s), delulu!edward but also he’s completely right, yandere!edward, oral (m receiving), ball worship, curvy/chubby!reader, mentions of insecurities, babytrapping, grower not show-er!edward, praise kink, little bit of humiliation kink, breeding kink, sloppy/rough kissing, unprotected p in v, creampie, scratching & biting, desperate sex, switch!couple

Summary: Banging your realtor in your new home sounds like a nice way to celebrate a close.

Gif credit: @/thelovewittch

a/n: writing for him cause I can’t get him out of my head so why the fuck not. Had the older him in mind and ran with it. Some inspo from the movie ‘The Substance’ in this because it felt very similar some of the messages they had.

YOUR knee brushed against his. Could it have been intentional? Could you even do something so scandalous in the vicinity of your parents? And you’re sitting super close. There’s so much room on this piano bench and yet you sat this close to him. God, he could smell your vanilla-scented perfume, wishing he could lathe his tongue across your delicate throat to see if he could taste it, too. He could feel the heat radiating from you and when it makes contact with his skin, he imagines for a moment that he could live in it. He hears the sweet gasp that escapes your lips when you run your fingers along the ivory keys.

YOU’RE a music enthusiast, it seems.

Edward was only showing off the piano display included with the home. He sat at its bench and playfully fooled around on the instrument when you decided to sit beside him and play truthfully. Beautifully.

Every now and then, you’d reach for a key over on his side and he’d force himself not to shudder when the action forced your bodies even closer.

He’s got to remain professional. His clients wouldn’t appreciate their realtor popping a boner over their sweet daughter but he’s hopelessly infatuated with you.

Just today—only 15 minutes into the tour where he’d first laid his eyes on you, Edward believes he’s found his soulmate in you. It’s love at first sight. You must feel it, too!

When he’d greeted you…you smiled and greeted him back! You laughed at his little jokes throughout the tour. And now you’re here beside him, making indiscreet attempts at being close while your parents examine the bedrooms upstairs.

“You played wonderfully?” He says with a goofy lovestruck smile.

“You liar,” You giggle. “That was so awful. If my piano teacher would have heard me play just now, he’d place one of those ice cream cone hats teachers used to make bad kids wear in the black and white days. I think it was called a dense hat?”

“A dunce hat.” He corrects.

“That’s the one,” You nod, pointing an acrylic-donned nail at him. “You’re so smart, Mr. Guy.”

“M-my first name is actually Guy.”

“So your name is Mr. Guy Guy?” You ask, blinking perplexedly.

“Guy Moratz.” Edward answers, trying to contain his excitement.

YOU just asked for his name! You half-remembered his name! If this isn’t your attempt to get to know him then he doesn’t what is?

“There’s a pool in this house, right, Mr. Guy?” You ask, glossing over his correction.

“Yes, an indoor pool.”

“Sweet,” You smile before pulling out your cell phone. “Think you could take some photos of me around the place.”

“Of course. Anything for you, my darling…client.” Edward answers awkwardly, attempting to stand on his feet but you sink your sharp nails into his biceps a little, pulling him back down on the bench. His dick jumps a little in trousers at this.

“Can I get one quick selfie with you?” You plead with the added pout and puppy dog eyes. You look so gosh darn pretty. “I want my instagram followers to see me with my new realtor. They’re coming along with me on my housing journey so I’m documenting anything I can. I’m practically the most mature influencer of my friend circle. They’re all still living together as roommates but I think I’m ready to be an adult. Just between you and I, though, let’s pretend I was the one who’d found you and not my parents.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Edward says and just as he finishes his sentence, you snap a quick photo of the two of you. You show him the picture and he frowns for a moment. He wasn’t ready and the photo didn’t capture his good side. What if you stare at that photo long enough and think he’s not as handsome as you’d believe? Or worse you show this photo to your girlfriends and they’d tell you how unattractive he is.

“You don’t like it?” You ask in a soft, whimper.

“It’s…okay. I was just in the middle of speaking so my mouth looks a little wide in that photo which made my head shape look weird and…”

“I could retake it. No biggie. But I’d like to keep this photo anyway. If you’d let me, pretty please.” You beg.

“Why?”

You lean in, whispering, “Because I want…to compare my best photos and I think I look hot as fuck in this one,” Standing on your feet, you yank down your tight pink dress that rode up your thick thighs before strutting to the nearest hallway. Edward. “Come on, take me to that indoor pool you’ve been raving about. I don’t want my parents catching up to us in case my besties want to facetime. I’ll see if I can crop you out of that photo later, if you’d like. Or I can even edit it to make it look better so that way we won’t have to keep retaking it. I, also, hate it whenever a friend keeps a bad photo of me just to use it against me or something.“

Edward fawns over you. You’re so considerate! To be kind enough to edit a photo for your realtor?! You’d probably do such a kind act for him no matter what he looked like. For that reason, his heart further warms up to you. You’re different. You’re not like Ingrid or the other women. You care about his feelings, you saw through him for the better. Just as a soulmate would do.

“Here is your stunning indoor pool room for your comfort, privacy, and all year-round enjoyment. This luxurious space boasts—”

“Can you take a photo of me here by the pool?” You question, already having dipped your feet into the cool water.

“Yes.” He takes a step forward looking for a position that would best capture the light in your eyes. Every angle is perfect. Oh, to have been born with such beauty. There’s no doubt your children together would be gorgeous.

Edward settles near the pool’s edge, standing in front of you as he snaps a quick photo. You stand giddily on your feet, singing him praises of his methods. “Are you some kind of a professional photographer?”

“Nope but I do a little acting on the side.” He laughs but once again his smile becomes a deep frown. Just in the background of the photo is his face upon the water’s surface, the waviness of the ripples causing its reflected image to distort. It’s…ugly.

“You think you can crop that part out, too, dear?” He inquires.

“What part?” You ask, squinting. He points at the small face in the background, it’s so small in comparison to the rest of the image that his thick index finger practically buried it. “Geez, you’re quite the stickler. But I can do that for you.”

“Thank you,” He exhales. “You look amazing in this photo of course. So you don’t have to delete the photo.”

“Mhm.” You say, side-eyeing him a little.

Edward lets out a nervous laugh, hoping to relieve any awkward tension. “Shall we go to the home theater?”

“Actually let’s see a bathroom, preferably ones with nice large mirrors. I need to take a pic of my outfit of the day.” You suggest.

“As you wish.” He laughs, feeling his confidence mask slipping. From the way you grimace at him, you can surely tell he’s crumbling. Could it be that you could sense his old self shining through? That you can see that he’s just a husk of a man still even after all these years. There has to be someone he could convince that he’s made for you. Just one more good picture to show you that he’s as perfect as you.

You’re led to a guest bathroom with gold accents and pearly white floor and wall tiles. There’s two large vanity mirrors—in fact, every surface of this bathroom is reflective. Edward is hesitant to enter, watching you take your photos from just outside the door.

You shoot him an uncomfortable glance, placing your phone on the counter. “Are you just going to stand there like an old creep?”

Old.

He is old, isn’t he? Fading in youth and beauty while you’re currently in the thick of it. And all he can do is ogle you like a pervert in your presence, yearning for you to see him in a better light.

“I’m asking you to come in here, dude,” You laugh, taking his hands to drag him inside. “You owe me a selfie.”

“In here? Wouldn’t that be a little strange?”

“Not for the kinds I wanna take. Here is the best place,” You whisper in his ear, sending a chill down his spine. You’re so, so close. He can hardly breathe. “The lighting’s better in here anyway. Ya know, so we can best capture your features.”

You stared up at him with those curious wide eyes, studying him up close. He couldn’t possibly look appealing from this angle. He still has the faded scars of the surgery just under his chin. You shouldn’t have to see him this way. So imperfect.

“Great idea.”

“Awesome! So, we’re gonna take this quick photo op and then we’ll go back to consult with my parents on how I feel about all this place, yeah? Do you have any pointers for how you want to take this photo?”

“No flash photography,” He says with a half-heartedly cocky wink. “The exposure might over wash my face with light, making it look all blotchy and sharp. And keep it at a distance just about my waist so it’s not too close but not too far either.”

He’s just so funny and kind of pathetic to you that you can’t help but find it endearing. “Wow, you know your angles, that’s for sure. Must’ve had a lot of practice. Are you sure weren’t a photographer in another life?”

“Just gotta keep up appearances,” He laughs. “It’s what pays the bills.”

“So is it always so prim and proper with you? Can’t it be a little…raw? Sometimes things should be candid; in the moment. Perfect can be a little boring sometimes.” You turn for a moment to lock the door behind you then your hands are on his belt and your knees are on the floor. “I can show you the best way to take photos. Try this method once and you’ll always feel beautiful no matter what.”

Edward isn’t sure what to do, mouth dry. All he can do is let out a strangled gasp and whine. You’ve barely touched him yet and he’s already a mess.

Torturously slow, you forcefully untuck his shirt from his pants and begin to unbuckle his belt, rubbing your face up and down along the trouser’s fabric as you do so. Your eyes never leave his, wanting him to see your desire in them. Yanking down his underwear along with his pants, his semi-hardened cock is free of its confines. You pinch it between two acrylic fingers, holding it the way you would a little worm.

“Aww, how adorable.” You giggle, releasing his cock so it fell over his balls. You lap your tongue over the length of it before pulling away with a stick line of saliva connecting you two. He whimpers quietly, trying to hold back his facial expressions. Even in the throes of passion, he stresses his appearance.

You cup his large balls in your hand, bringing them to your lips to place a red lipstick stained kiss on each scrotum. “Now these are huge. So good for breeding your woman. I bet you’ve got so much cum in them just begging to impregnate.”

“Fuck…please.” Edward whines, white knuckling the marble sink behind him.

You take the uncircumcised tip into your mouth sucking on it lightly and his eyes roll back, lips parting in complete bliss. It’s been so long since he’s felt the warmth of an eager mouth around his cock.

“It turns me on seeing the way your face changes,” You sigh before lowering your mouth down his length once more. He swells at your praise, growing larger in size down your throat. You gag, pulling away as spit dribbles down your chin. “Ooo, a grower. You’re full of surprises, Mr. Guy.”

You suckle on his leaking tip, kneading his balls to milk him for all his worth. Edward’s facial expressions are beyond reserved by this point, allowing himself to enjoy your worship of him.

“I love you.” He rasps, mainly to himself but you hear his breathy words nonetheless.

You moan against him, cranking up your motions on his shaft. It shouldn’t turn you on this much that this stranger just told you he loved you. It was so pathetic and sickeningly desperate and that’s what made it all the more hot.

You dig your nails into the back of his thighs, taking his cock deeper until your nose brushes against his fuzzy pubic hair.

Edward suddenly gets the twisted plan to assure you as his for good. The thought of finishing inside you plagues his mind enough that he forces your mouth off him, yanking you to your feet, to bend you over the sink. He’s going to put a baby in you. You’ll be his forever then.

“I need to be inside you. I have to.” He whimpers, yanking your panties down your legs.

“I wanna look at you. Can I please?”

He answers you with a passionate kiss, turning you over so that he can wrap his arms around your rubenesque form to seat you on the cold marble.

Your kisses are sloppy and messy, neither of you able to remain controlled enough not to knock teeth or bite lips. Edward spreads your legs for him, sliding you down the counter just enough to close the gap between your bodies.

You remove his glasses that fogged within your heated entanglement. With one hand held his jaw in place, keeping him from hiding his face. The other went down between your bodies, guiding him inside you. You both let out groans at the euphoric feeling.

He starts out at a heavy pace, slamming himself hard and deep inside you. You barely have time to adjust, forced to take him the punishing pounding. Though, your eyes threaten to flutter close from the bliss, you keep your eyes locked on him watching his every facial expression.

“Look at yourself, baby,” You mewl. “You look so fucking good when you don’t care how you look. God, those pretty faces you’re making are gonna make me come so hard.”

He glances at himself in the mirror. His unkempt appearance startled him for a moment but then your nails rake down his back, stab into his buttocks forcing him deeper inside you and he’s soon abandoning any care. You begin to suck along his jawline, meeting him thrust for thrust.

His hands excitedly explore whatever they can touch: cupping your ass, squeezing your breasts, clawing his nails along your thick thighs, or holding you tight against him.

The sounds of your tryst are sheer filth as his grunts clash in time with your moans. Neither of you do anything to minimize your volumes, disregarding that your parents could be just outside the door hearing this.

You control him by his hair forcing him to look at you while his face contorted in pleasure. His lips are now swollen from the rough kisses, his hair and clothes are disheveled, and he’s far gone from bliss. He’s absolutely perfect for you like this.

“It’s… so wet,” He whispers hotly in your ear, considering it your only warning you’ll get before he shoots up his hot liquid inside you. He expects some resistance; for you to push him away. Instead, you draw him close, touching the tip of your panting tongue to his as you wrap your legs around him. You refuse to let go. “I’m close. Fuck, I’m so close.”

“Cum in me. Please, baby, please. I’m not on birth control. Need you to breed me. Wanna be owned by you.” You cry, clamping your teeth on his bottom lip in time with your clenching walls.

Once again, you both let out guttural groans in unison as you reach your explosive peaks. You sob, real hot tears streaming down your face as you finally received what you’ve been craving.

His euphoric expression singes into the back of his mind forever a memory. He’d never let loose this wildly with any woman. The two of you tremble against one another from the intense aftershock of your combined orgasms. Edward plunges himself into your wet heat repeatedly, filling the air with sticky clicking noises made by your combined fluids. Satisfied you’ve received every drop, he finally stills.

“I’ll think about closing on this house. On the condition that we christen every room in this place. My hope is that I can pull the most unholy faces out of you once I ride you like a horse,” You trace your finger along the salt and pepper stubbles on his chin. “Promise me you won’t hold back your faces next time, pretty boy. I meant it when I said you owe me another photo.”

[iamzer0]

𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙘 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙡 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨

𝘈/𝘕: 𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘏𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘟 𝘏𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘓𝘰𝘬𝘪, 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦

𝙏𝙤𝙣𝙮 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙠

Y’all met through an internship, y’all worked together on a plethora of projects.

You were working on a project at home, it was a mini engine that if worked would power a multitude of things.

But one thing lead to another and next thing you know it explodes. Your parents/guardians got the blunt of it, they died in the hospital.

You were taken in by none other than Tony fricken Stark, every persons dream right…?

It would be nice and all if you weren’t currently grieving the loss of your parents. He tried to help, but it only made things worse.

You felt almost trapped mostly because you kinda were, you weren’t aloud to do anything. You couldn’t go in the kitchen, couldn’t go in the lab, couldn’t use any tech that wasn’t highly monitored, couldn’t even leave.

In Tony’s defense, he was doing this to protect you but I came off more like kidnapping rather than protective parenting.

He was scared to lose you, after the near death experience he became much more possessive, scared that if he turned his back you would be gone.

You became depressed, staying in your bed, rotting. You were grieving and Tony certainly wasn’t helping.

"𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩? 𝙞 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚" 𝘛𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 "𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩...𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙜𝙤 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮.."

𝘽𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙚 𝘽𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙧

You were a kid of a fellow colleague, unfortunately for you your parents loved their work more than you.

They tested all kinds of serums and medicines on you, you gained some uncontrollable abilities. Your parents died due to radiation poisoning from something in their lab.

Naturally you were sent to live with your godfather, Bruce Banner.

He realized your abilities early on, as every thing in his penthouse was currently on the roof.

He helped you learn to control your abilities and emotions, while simultaneously bonding.

He was a nice guy, he gave you a good life. But unfortunately he wouldn’t let you leave like at all.

He say its for your protection but you call bullshit.

"𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨." 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 "𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙝𝙮𝙥𝙤𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳.

You weren’t scared of the hulk, you knew he would never hurt you. The hulk liked you so he tried to gentle towards you every time he came out.

But even the hulk won’t let you leave.

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙍𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨

You were kidnapped by hydra when you were a child, they wanted to test a new serum on you.

Fortunately for you the avengers busted down the base before they could do anything to you. It was a simple mission get in bust down the base and get out.

But guess who they stumbled upon, little old you(you are like 12-14yrs). Of course they took you back with them.

Steve felt almost drawn to you, you reminded him of himself before the super serum.

He basically took you under his wing, but it became less training more spending time together. But as he took on a more parental role in your life his traditional way of thinking started to shine through.

First off he didn’t let you use anything internet related no phone, no tablet, etc. He also had some real traditional views on family, in his mind children were meant to stay home while the adult worked.

It was incredibly boring considering he took away the radio after he found you taking it apart in an attempt to use the wires inside to escape.

"𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙩𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧" 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 "𝙞 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜... 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚..𝙮𝙤𝙪" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘣𝘴.

𝘽𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝘽𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨

You were kidnapped by hydra when you were just 4 because of your powers, healing.

When Bucky was the winter soldier he was pretty prominent figure in your life. Every time he was injured, they made him come to you.

He couldn’t understand his feelings, but he liked your presence a lot it was like a shining light he never knew he needed. He would go as far to injure himself just to be near you.

When the soldier went back to being Bucky he almost immediately went to go get you.

The rest of the team couldn’t understand why he was so attached to this random traumatized teenager but not much they could do.

Bucky was incredibly paranoid so much so that y’all slept in the same room sometimes the same bed because he was scared that if he let you out his sight something bad would happen.

When the soldier would come out he would sorta just come up to you and hug/hold you it was strange but it stopped the soldier from being violent.

It kinda felt like a hostage situation, the air was always tense and you felt forever on edge. He scared you and his paranoia certainly did not help your fears.

"𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝘽𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 "𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙃𝙮𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪" 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 "𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 2 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚!" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮.

𝙉𝙖𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙖 𝙍𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙛𝙛

You were a kid she found abandoned in some old hydra base. She went through it looking for some abandoned documents.

But instead found you hunched in a corner, scared. She tried to coax you out but you swiped at her anytime she came close.

She ended up having to knock you out, she took you back to the tower.

It was a rough adjustment, especially considering you didn’t speak much English.

You bonded with Natasha, she gave you a sense of safety. The closer y’all got the more protective she became.

Something in her sorta changed the day you started calling her mom. She didn’t bother correcting you, it felt right to be called ‘mom’.

She felt this undying urge to protect you. It got to a point to where she would barely let anyone even interact with you.

She was essentially isolating you, though you couldn’t understand it you could almost feel her protection turn more malicious rather than loving.

"𝙢-𝙢𝙤𝙢 𝙞 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 "𝙤, 𝙢𝙤𝙮 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙠𝙖 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙝𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣"

𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙧

Your parents managed to piss off a sorcerer, the sorcerer did not take kindly to your parents disrespect. He went after the one thing they loved more than themselves, you.

He sent you away, quite literally. Next thing you know you are falling out of the sky, take a wild guess who you fell into.

None other than The prince of Asgard himself, Thor.

He took you in, you liked it at first. I mean you lived like royalty, stomach always full, a giant room, servants there 24/7.

Everything was amazing, until you became homesick. You missed your home, your friends, your family.

He loved you, a lot. He couldn’t bare to see you sad, but he also didn’t want you to leave. You were his beacon of hope, his Midgard child.

That’s why when he discovered a way to bring you back, he chose not to. But he couldn’t keep the truth from you forever.

His own brother told you about your “fathers” secret. From that day on you hated Thor.

You hated his protective nature, the way he wouldn’t let you leave at all without him.

"𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣, 𝙈𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚" 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘧 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. "....." 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘴.

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚

You were the child of a sorcerer, that happened to be close with Dr.strange. You were around 10-12 when your parent tragically died, took to many pills.

Stephan took you in, in your time of grief you clung to him like he was your life line. You followed him around, not caring where he went you just didn’t want to be alone.

Stephan found it annoying at first but grew to love your clinging, it was oddly comforting.

He grew to see you as this innocent little kid that needed to be sheltered. You didn’t care if you were outside or inside but you just didn’t want to be alone.

Things changed when you started to heal from your parents death, you were much less clingy and would rather do your own thing rather than follow Stephan around like a lost puppy.

Though he wouldn’t admit it this was upsetting to him, he quite enjoyed your presence.

Even with you getting over your parents death, things kinda remained the same. Stephan still saw you as this innocent child that needs to be sheltered from the harsh world.

You hated it it was almost infantilizing, you tried leaving multiple times but there was no point no matter where you went Stephan could just simply teleport you back.

"𝙄𝙈 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀 𝙎𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙀𝘿 𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙇𝙀 𝙆𝙄𝘿, 𝙄 𝘾𝘼𝙉 𝙏𝘼𝙆𝙀 𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙔𝙎𝙇𝙀𝙁!!" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 "𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙙𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚" 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵.

𝙇𝙤𝙠𝙞

Loki was out doing a task for the grandmaster then he found himself in trouble, he was about to flee but then you dropped in, literally.

You dropped onto his attacker, attacking him with a makeshift knife. The rest of the group fled while you robbed the attacker. Loki stood there partially in shock the other part being amazement.

You gave him a simple nod before turning to leave, but Loki quickly stopped you by putting a hand on your shoulder.

That was the day your life changed.

Loki had a lot more in common with you than he cared to admit, you were something else, something special.

Basically you had a rags to riches type story because after Loki took you in your life did a complete 180. You could see he definitely cared about you, but if he truly loved you why were you so….. isolated?

It was a good life but you never saw anyone, ever. Loki was always there but you grew tired of only seeing him. You wanted more.

You were tired of the same old boring place, so you tried to venture out, bad move.

He almost immediately found you, after that he decided he couldn’t trust you. So he chained you to your bedpost.

It was a boring life when Loki wasn’t there you only had books to keep you company, and you had grown tired of reading long ago.

You started expressing your frustration and anger, in the form of yelling. He always made some bullshit reason up on why it was better if you stayed by him.

"𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙚𝙚? 𝙒𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙞𝙣" 𝘓𝘰𝘬𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙡

Unlike everyone else you were his actual kid, product of a hookup before Vanessa. But he still loved you when he found out you existed.

You came to live with him, mostly because your mom couldn’t “handle you anymore” so she shipped you off to your dads.

Y’all bonded surprisingly quick, y’all were basically best friends within the first hour of living there.

He of course had somethings he really didn’t want you to see, one was his face. He had some deep rooted fear he could never admit to that if you saw what was under the mask you would leave.

Of course that wasn’t true, you honestly didn’t care what he looked like. That made him even more attached to you.

He is incredibly lenient, about everything.

He becomes must for possessive as time passes on and it’s incredibly noticeable. Naturally you want to leave for a little bit so you do, there’s no locks on the door so it’s not hard to just leave.

It’s not that he doesn’t care if you leave it’s that he knows he can get you back easily if you do leave.

But there comes a point in time where enough is enough and that point happened when you had escaped for the 4th time this week and it’s Tuesday.

Drastic times call for drastic measures, like chaining you to the wall.

"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚" 𝘸𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 "𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙠𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘦.

A/N: I’m backkkkkkk, I low key really missed writing. Anyway I’m trying something new, let me know if y’all like it. I will be posting Hxh content but I wanna branch out a lil.

Anyway love you alll so so much bye bye(*^◯^*)

[anonymityisfunwriter]

it will come back.

"i warn you, baby, each night, as sure as you're born, you'll hear me howling at your door..." - hozier, it will come back

pairing: yandere!bucky barnes x reader c.w.: dark!bucky (he definitely does some questionable things, but nothing graphic)

a.n. - it's official, i've become addicted to lower case fics. they're just so much fun. they've got a vibe, you know? anyway, this is my first attempt at a darker bucky, so i hope you enjoy!

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

this is your fault. it’s all your fault.

you know better, or at least, you should have known better.

what else could you expect from a man like him? a man robbed of his humanity for so long. a man so close to ferality. that's who he is in all matters of you, a man more beast than human, no better than an animal when it came to you.

that’s how you should’ve treated him. as a beast. prowling back and forth in their confinement. poised to devour any unlucky soul that got too close. so long as he was caged, you were safe.

you didn’t though. you didn’t treat him like the beast he became the moment he saw you.

maybe in another life, he could've loved you in a normal, sane way. in another life, he could give you the sweetness you deserved. in a life where he wasn't so twisted and tormented, he would have done just that. the flowers. the chocolates. the romance.

but this is love, he tells himself.

this raw, deranged, twisted, obsession.

this is his love.

he loves you.

he swears he does.

in this life, this is the only way he can show you just how much he loves you. just how far he's wiling to go to love you.

something happened to him the moment he set his sights on you. perhaps something broke. perhaps something mended. but maybe this was always who he'd been. all he knows is that heaven is not fit to house the love he has for you.

it didn't matter. the moment he set his sights upon you, you were doomed.

he wanted to scream, to bellow a warning to stay as far away from him as possible.

he stayed silent during that first meeting. his jaw tense, spine straight as an arrow, fists clenched so tight he was sure there would be indents in the metal of his vibranium palm.

"it was nice to meet you, sergeant barnes." you made a point to place yourself in his line of sight, forcing him to look at you in those bright, wide eyes. "i look forward to working with you."

that was your first mistake. he had the strength to stay away. to resist the feeling creeping up his spine. but you just kept rattling his cage. calling out to him with your siren song.

"bucky," you rest your hand on his shoulder. you're trying to soothe him. you don't realize it's a kindness neither you nor him could afford. "it's alright."

he stiffens, that's the first time you've ever touched him. it's the first time he's ever heard his name fall from your lips. not sergeant, not sir, but his name.

his chest heaves, rising and falling as he tries to control himself. you think it's just the adrenaline of the mission. you don't have any idea how overwhelmed he is by your presence.

it's your own kindness that was your undoing, that was his unraveling. years of discipline, years of training, years of strength gone with a touch.

if he didn't love you so much, he'd hate you.

from that moment on, it all spiraled. he spiraled.

he wasn't a patient man, not by any stretch of the imagination. but for you, he'd wait. for you, he'd bide his time.

first, he watches. he watches and look for ways to insert himself into your life. it was almost too easy. for a shield agent, you were careless. doors unlocked. blissfully unaware of your surroundings on long, morning runs. you barely realized how he'd slithered his way onto your missions.

it helped you were vying for his approval, for his adoration. you didn't know that you had it from the moment he saw you. he started slow. inserting himself into your daily routine. a simple good morning. a good night. passing by you in the corridor, always offering a quick grin. he listened to you. to your ideas. your wants. your little anecdotes.

soon, you were close enough to invite him into your apartment. if only you knew that he'd seen it before.

"bucky, we're friends, right?"

he gritted his teeth. friends. no. you weren't friends. you were the love of his life. you were everything he had ever wanted, everything he would ever want. you were the center of his universe. he couldn't tell you that. not yet. "yeah. why do you ask?"

"i just wanted your opinion on this guy."

"a guy?" his voice is so clipped, so gruff, he's shocked you can't hear his teeth grinding together. his fists clench. can't you feel the rage rolling off of him?

"yeah, this agent," you sigh. "he keeps asking me out. i keep trying to let him down easy, but he's not taking the hint."

"oh."

your eyebrows furrow. he almost smiles to himself. you're so aware of him, of what he does or doesn't do. you're worried you upset him. you're worried you shouldn't have told him. he likes that you're this concerned about what he thinks. "should i - i'm sorry i shouldn't have said that to you."

he places his hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. "no, i'm glad you told me."

it was too easy for him to swipe your phone when you weren't looking. too easy for him to find out which agent dared to try to take you from him.

and it was even easier to get the agent paired with bucky on a field mission. just the two of them. overseas in an unfamiliar country. there were just so many things that could go wrong.

he was respected in the avenger's compound. and in this moment, he's glad he put in the work to earn that respect. he didn't think they'd respect him so much if they knew how easy it was for him to sabotage that agent. he couldn't kill the guy, but if a gun shot to the leg wasn't enough of a warning, there were other ways to get him off your back.

all of this was your fault. you opened the cage, whether you knew it or not. you pushed him to this. you showed him the warmth of your doorways.

you could've left him alone. left him to the land. left him to the cold that he knows from the depth of his bones. you should never have let him taste your warmth. you shouldn't have uttered a single word to him, not when he's sat in silence for so long, not when the sound of your honey sweet voice in enough to feed his hungry soul.

you can't show warmth to someone stone cold.

you can't feed someone starved for decades.

you can't show mercy to someone used to the harsh, unyielding world.

you should never have let him in unless you planned on keeping him.

or he'll come back.

"bucky," you pant, running to bucky's room after hearing about his disastrous mission. "i heard - i heard things went wrong on that mission. i thought you were -"

"i'm okay. don't worry." he tries to bite back the smile at the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. you were worried about him.

your words come out in short bursts. "i just - the guy - he's the one i told you about - i heard he was shot - and - and that you were on the mission with him-"

"that was the guy who wouldn't leave you alone?" there's an intentional lilt to his voice. of course he knew. but he didn't want to give away just how much he knew. you weren't ready for that. "he's okay, if that's what you're worried about."

"i was worried about you." your eyes lift to his, shining with tears, with admiration. you were so close to putting the final nail in your coffin. "i was so worried about you."

he should tell you to run. the lion should never live with the lamb. if only you'd left him to the land.

"i'm okay. i promise."

run, he silently warns you.

run.

run.

"i just- " your frantic eyes find his again. you don't say another word. you lunge forward, planting your warm hand on the side of his face. your lips meet his in a frenzy.

too late.

it was far, far too late. it was too easy for him to become addicted to your presence. how easy you are for him to need. how easy you are for him to crave.

he'll always come back for more. he'll never be satisfied. he lived deprived for so long.

you should've know the reason they locked him away and threw away the key. he's a greedy beast.

and he's decided, he can't live with a taste. not anymore.

"i just want to talk to you," the agent pleads with you. he follows you down the hallway, still limping on his leg after that gun shot. "just hear me out."

"look," you sigh, stopping for a moment out of pity. "i'm sorry you got hurt, but i've already told you, i'm not interested."

"you're not interested in me, but you're interested in the maniac that had me shot?"

your eyes widen at the accusation. "you're lying. and don't - don't talk about bucky like that."

"i just thought you should know what kind of man you're falling into bed with."

"you're just jealous." you're about to turn on your heels when he grips your bicep forcing you back around. he squeezes tightly, forcing you to stay in place. you look down at the white knuckled grip, "you're hurting me."

"he told me that i should be more careful next time. that next time it wouldn't be in the leg. you should ask him about it."

you wrench your arm from his hold. "stay away the hell from me."

you felt guilty about your reaction. even guiltier when he turned up dead just days later. the details of that assignment were so fuzzy. even an entire investigation turned up nothing.

"i can't believe he's gone," you softly cry into bucky's shoulder. "we were friends for so long, you know?"

"i'm so sorry, that can't be easy for you," bucky coos at you.

"i don't what happened. he was acting so strange the last few months and then we got into that fight. i said terrible things to him."

"you got into a fight?"

"he said some things. about you. about us."

"about me?"

"yeah." you nod, tears still stinging your eyes, but offering no other details of that argument. you didn't want to upset bucky with those strange accusations. "these last few months, he was like a different person. he wasn't the friend i knew. i'm sorry, i know i'm rambling at you. i just - i don't know how to feel."

"you don't have to be sorry," bucky promises, he strokes your back up and down, following the curve of your spine. "i understand."

"thank you." you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. "you're being so sweet to me."

"i would do anything for you."

you're not sure what it is. the inflection of his voice. the way the words fall from his lips without pause. or the intensity with which they ring in your ears. you freeze, peeling yourself out of his embrace. your heart hammers against your chest, the blood pumping faster and faster.

you look up and, for the first time, you get a glimpse of it. those blue eyes are almost unrecognizable. that vibrant blue is gone, replaced by something much darker. almost lupine. feral.

it was the first time you ever flinched away from him. you stumbled back, afraid of him.

if you didn't know better then, you certainly did now.

but it's too late for you. he's supposed to unlearn the warmth of your skin, the taste of your lips? he's supposed to let you go? just like that?

no. not a chance in hell.

he doesn't know why you can't see it. can't you see that blood that stained his hand was for you? that agent will never lay another hand on you. you'll never wince under his grip again. he'll never plant seeds of doubt in your head ever again. you're safe. here. in his arms.

you sent him away that night. but he doesn't care. it doesn't matter. he'll always find his way back to you.

he'll always come back.

can’t you hear him just outside your door?

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

a.n. this is my first attempt at writing a yandere fic, so let me know what you think! reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes@beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a@weallhaveadestiny@mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064@michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73@withyoutilltheendoftheline@the-photo-hoe @rae-nna@sarachabeans1

[our-destiny]

Day 10 of @creativepromptsforwriting's 30 Days Writing Challenge - Use the title: Promises made, promises kept

A/N: Stalker Bucky is back! This is a part 2 to Day 6's prompt - write about a blackout. I kind of don't like it and it feels very cringey and also doesn't really match the prompt but I tried :']

Content / Trigger Warnings: Stalking, breaking and entering(?), reader has terrible flight or fight instincts and the ending is disgusting -If I missed any please let me know

I am not responsible for the media you consume, read the warnings, minors DNI

30 Days Writing Challenge Masterlist

Word count: 887

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . *  ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

"You're all mine."

You haven't seen James since that night, well you haven't seen him at all, actually. When the power came back on James walked out the door and you were too scared to turn around and see what he looked like. So, his appearance is still a mystery but he hasn't been back to talk to you for three weeks, he hasn't even left you a note and the feeling of being watched is less prominent. Maybe he's finally stopped stalking you and found someone else to torment. That night still plays heavy on your mind, the hug, his words, the possessiveness that oozed from his voice. You thought he was going to come back, but wouldn't be have done so by now? Why wait? Whatever, you're just glad he's gone, no more creepy notes to find, no reason to be scared of the shadows anymore. That's what you tell yourself, anyway, yet you keep finding yourself looking over your shoulder when in dark rooms, expecting him to be standing there watching you. But he never is.

The bad weather continued, there was a storm almost every night, luckily the power stayed on every time but that didn't stop you from being terrified. Would he come back if the power went out? Was he just biding his time? No, if he was he would've kept leaving you notes. He's gone.

Tonight's storm was particularly brutal. You finally felt safe enough to turn some of the lights off in your house, the lightning was illuminating all the dark corners your lamps didn't reach. This time you were in your bedroom, your phone fully charged, ready for if the power went out. But he wouldn't come back, James was gone. You had been camping out on your bed the past hour, still scared you might find him lurking in your home, but by now you really needed a drink. Desperately. So, you plucked up all your courage (which was not a lot), and opened your bedroom door to go to the kitchen, taking your phone with you.

When you got there you half expected to see a note on your counter, but nothing was there. No notes, no James. You poured yourself a glass of water, downed it in a few gulps, just to fill it up again and make your way back to your bedroom.

When you got there and saw what was on your bed you almost dropped the glass, you would have if you weren't holding it with both hands. A piece of lined paper, folded in half. You set the glass on your bedside table, just so you could stand there and panic without having to worry about dropping it. He's back. Or maybe he never left. He was in your bedroom. It barely took you two minutes to go to the kitchen and come back and in that time he had put that note there. He's in your house. He's watching you. Has he been watching you this whole time? You thought he left. Fuck.

Finally, you settled on reading the note, though you approached it as if it were a snake about to bite you. The same messy handwriting was scribbled at the top, handwriting you hadn't seen in three weeks.

Please don't be scared. You know I'm watching you so there's no need to be scared. I'll keep you safe.

- Love, James

Right as you finished reading the room suddenly went pitch black. The power went out. And your phone... Is in the kitchen. You set it down on the counter to take a drink and never picked it up again. Wow, your survival instincts are terrible.

Just like last time, a few seconds later you heard his footsteps before you felt him. He was behind you, his hands on your hips. The left hand was cool, not quite cold but it didn't feel like blood was pumping through it. But his right hand was warm, meaning he wasn't outside recently. How long had he been in your house without you knowing about it? You didn't have time to think about it when he placed his head on your left shoulder, his right hand coming round to take the note from you.

"I can feel you shaking." He was talking just above a whisper like last time, not sounding like a stalker at all, breath fanning just below your ear. "There's no need, I'm right here."

He started slowly turning the both of you around, before gently pulling you back toward the bed. Again you froze, unable to do anything except lay down on the bed with him, his warm body spooning you from behind, again an action that was supposed to be comforting and was anything but.

"You thought I left you. I saw you. I guess it's kind of my fault for not speaking to you since that night, I should have left you something. I was planning on just giving you that note and leaving you alone tonight but then the power went out and I knew you'd be scared." It was him that scared you. But you have a feeling he wouldn't accept that fact very well. It didn't really seem like he wanted you to talk right now anyway, so you just kept quiet and stared into the darkness of the room, the occasional strike of lightning illuminating the furniture. James seemed content to ramble on whether you answered him or not.

"I hope you know I'm never gonna leave you. I'm honestly a little offended you ever thought I would. But I forgive you, I know I just haven't made myself clear enough." He paused for a second, and that was enough time for you to dread what he was going to say next.

"I said it before and I'll say it again. I'm not gonna lose you. I'm not gonna let anybody take you from me. You're all mine. And I'll keep saying it until you believe me. I promise."

You don't think you're ever going to be able to get rid of him. Not as long as he keeps that promise.

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Reblogs and comments are really appreciated <33

[yandere-wishes]

The amount of times I've yelled "I'd marry him!!" To a completely deranged and evil fiction man is quite concerning.

[sarahowritesostucky]

Happy Little Family

📖"A Clever, Tricky Little Kitty Cat: Just like her Mommy"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4407

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, rape, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere, kid fic

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.

This chapter: Bucky shows up unannounced at your cottage, shattering the peaceful life you thought you'd reclaimed for yourself and your daughter. He's reclaiming what's his, and he isn't planning on accepting a "no."

Nickname Dictionary: vorishka = "little thief" mamochka = "mommy/little mother" kotenok= "kitty/kitten" omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega omegechka = (made up) "little omega" shlyukha = "slut" krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one"

1. A Clever, Tricky Little Kitty Cat, Just like her 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, "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."

A whimper escapes you, unbidden. 

June starts squirming in his lap, eager to get to you. When he doesn’t hand her over, she starts to fuss. He coos at her and bounces her in his arms to calm her, kisses the top of her head while keeping his somber, reproachful eyes on you. “You left your door unlocked,” he says. “She was alone.”

She’d been down for her nap when you went downstairs and popped across the street to visit with Hilde, your one friend in the world. It’s so common for mothers to do, in this tiny, Nordic village you’ve settled in. It’s the culture here. It’s supposed to be safe. You swallow thickly, eyes flitting around to try and think of what to do. You think of your gun, so far away. You’d talked yourself out of keeping it tucked behind your bed, so now the only weapon you own is down in the kitchen. But maybe … maybe if you can get him away from June … 

“You should be more careful, Little thief. You never know who might break in and take everything you love.”

“The only thing we had to guard against here was you,” you hiss. “And I’m not fool enough to think a locked door would keep you out.”

“You’re damned right it wouldn’t.” He tosses the storybook aside like trash and stands up with June in his arms. “But you are a fool if you thought there was anywhere in the world you could go where I wouldn’t find you.”

You flinch forward compulsively, unable to think of your own safety over your baby’s. “Please, James,” you beg. “Please. Just give her to me.��� 

“Oh no, Dollface,” he purrs, voice deceptively soft. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, and you aren’t gonna want her in the room when it happens.” His hands tighten threateningly on June’s little body. “Whose baby is this?”

You blanch. “Don’t hurt her.” 

“Aw. You don’t want me to hurt her?” 

“No, please!” The sob that’s been working its way up in your throat finally breaks. It’s killing you not to rush forward and snatch her from his arms. “Please, I'll do anything.”

“Is that so?” He stares at you long and hard. The few seconds of silence are torturous as he holds your daughter away from you. 

James is one of the deadliest people you’ve ever met, and he’s capable of horrendous violence, but he wouldn’t hurt a baby, that much you do know. What you have to worry about most right now isn’t him physically hurting her; it’s him wanting her, whisking her away right alongside you, when he inevitably takes you from this place. There’s nothing you can do to prevent your own fate, but if there’s anything you can do to keep him from getting his hands on June, you’ll do it. Your eyes flit around the nursery frantically, its pale, dream-like decorations taunting you as you try to think of what to do. It feels surreal to have a man like James standing in this room, feels wrong.

Your heart leaps when he suddenly moves, but he’s only turning to walk over to the crib, bending and placing June in it with a surprising amount of care. Something painful lances in your chest at seeing him handle her so gently, but when he turns back around to you, all of that gentleness is gone. “Come on,” he snaps. “To the other bedroom.” 

You hesitate, not wanting to leave your daughter alone, but he stalks forward and grabs your upper arm, herding you out of the nursery and down the hallway. In your bedroom, he pushes you onto the bed. You land in a heap and scramble to prop back up on your hands, trying to swipe the hair out of your face.

“Whose baby is that?” he demands. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

His Voice. God. After almost a year and a half it should be lessened. The pull you feel when you hear it has no right to tug at you the way it does. You’re not even mated, which makes it all the more insulting. It gets in through your ears and spreads throughout your body, like an invasive plant, growing and sinking its roots into you and tug, tug tugging on your will: Whose baby is that.

You fight the awful urge to tell him, as you rapidly, fearfully weigh your options. It’s hard to think when you’re so frightened, so taken aback. Most people might think it wise to admit the truth, but you know this man, this alpha, and you know he’ll never let her go if he knows that she’s his. Anything, you think. You have to do anything you can to keep her from that life, that world. 

Heart in your throat, you insist, “Noone.”

“Noone?” His visage darkens. “Artificial insemination, then? I know they’re progressive and all up here, but don’t take me for a fool, mamochka.”

“It was just some guy! Just a one night stand, I swear!”

He surges in, gets one knee up on the bed and pushes you onto your back when you try to get up, leaning over you and holding you down by your shoulders. “So you did let another man fuck you,” he growls.

You jut your chin out and hiss, “Yes.” (Lying Rule #1: deliver your bullshit with confidence).

“Who? Was he alpha?”

“Why do you care? It was one night in Oslo.” (Rule #2: add in one or two unimportant details.)

“What’s. his. name?” 

A bitter sound escapes you (Rule #3: attach honest emotion to it, if you can). “I don’t know his name. I never did. I was just racking up a roster, just wanted to get laid after getting away from you.”

He bares his teeth at you in a snarl, furious, and shoves you harder against the mattress. You cry out and try to hit him, but he catches your wrists and holds them down to the bed easily, shoving you again, one of his powerful thighs pressed up between yours. “You’re mine,” he growls, getting in your face, lying on top of you. “Noone else’s. Not ever.”

You whimper and nod, shaken and keenly aware of his body on top of yours, his strength. James is a massive hulk of an alpha, capable of overpowering you in any situation, and even through your frantic thoughts, you know you’ll never be able to get away from him in close contact like this. He’s so angry, his scent gone thick and choking. You’re too panicked to plan out what it is you’re going to say next, you just wind up instinctively trying to placate him, blurting out, “What do you want?”

He leers down at you. “I want what’s mine. What’s always been mine.” On your wrists, his fingers tighten cruelly. “You’ve had your fun now, and gotten away with it for too damn long. You’re coming home with me, Little thief.”

You gasp as the pressure on your wrists increases painfully, mind flying to that cold, Siberian fortress and the life that awaits you there. You might be able to get away from him before then, but you might not, and you can’t risk June being trapped there as well. “Okay, okay! I’ll go with you, I will. Wherever you want. Just … Please let me give her to the neighbor. Please.”

He smiles nastily down at you. “Oh, you don’t want her to come along? Another man’s pup?”

Tears press at the backs of your eyes at the thought of leaving your daughter behind, but you shake your head. “Please. Just take her over to the woman across the street. She’ll look after her. Please James, she's my daughter. I won’t fight you if you leave her there. She’s nothing to you. Just let her stay where it’s safe.” 

Something in his expression shifts, but you don’t have time to figure out what the emotion might be, before he shutters again. He leans down and purrs, “Oh, I don’t know, vorishka [little thief]. You stole some very valuable things from me. And since I don’t see any fucking Picassos hanging in this hovel you call a house, I assume they’re in the wind.”

It wasn’t as though you’d simply been able to run away. Escaping had required finances, techniques, firms of dangerous men hired to plant false leads, erase tracks, ferret you away into oblivion, and then move halfway across the globe and buy yourself a new identity. The bribes alone had eaten up most of the money. You shudder in his grip, knowing that the paintings wouldn’t save you, even if you did have them. “They’re gone.” 

“I know they’re gone, Little thief.” He shoves his thigh down against you. “So how are you gonna make it up to me?”

You whimper. “I can’t,” you plead. “James. I don’t have anything.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I can think of a few ways you can start repaying your debt.” He runs one hand down your side, groping your waist as he breathes softly against your ear: “For instance, do you have any idea what she’d be worth on the black market?”

It takes you a split second to figure out what he means, and your heart seizes in terror as soon as you do. You know James is involved in every type of shady, illegal dealing there is in the world, but you’d never even considered the idea of human trafficking. Now that he’s said it, you panic that you’ve made a huge mistake by lying that the baby isn’t his. “James,” you whisper, horrified. “Alpha, please.”

“Oh, it’s Alpha, now, is it?” He chuckles meanly, the sound making your stomach churn. You’re about to say something else, beg in some other, pitiful way, tell him he’s June’s father, but instead you cry out as his hand fists in your hair and yanks your head to the side. His breath hits hot against your skin and he drags his nose up the side of your neck, scenting you. “Mmm,” he hums darkly, pleased. “You spread your legs for another man, but you didn’t let anyone in here.”

You squeak when his teeth scrape over your still-unmarked glands. “No!” you gasp, just as much an answer as it is a plea for nim not to bite you. “I didn’t, I didn’—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, closing his teeth down on the spot. You whine as he pulls your hair and slowly increases the pressure of his bite, threatening to break the skin. Horrified, you feel your body responding with arousal, heat blooming deep in your core. You squeeze your eyes shut, and sure enough few seconds later James is inhaling deeply and chuckling. “Oh, kotenok [kitten]. Still the same as ever, huh?” He shifts, hand slipping down between your legs and cupping you from over the fabric of your dress. “Ripe for your Alpha’s touch, even after all this time. How sweet.” Humiliated rage bubbles up inside of you and you glare up at him. He’s looking down fondly at you, eyes heated and lip drawn into his mouth. He lets it slide back out between his teeth and murmurs, “It’s okay, you know. It’s everything to me, omegechka [little omega], the way you respond. It’s only natural.” You growl angrily, but he just hums and tugs your hair again, other hand molding to your mound and rubbing. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, when you cry out louder. “Don’t want to scare the whelp, do you?” 

You freeze, listening to try and hear June. She’s whining from over in her room,  not understanding why she’s been left alone when she can hear her mommy’s voice just down the hall. “Please,” you whisper, locking eyes with James again. “Please. Let me go to her.”

He grinds the heel of his hand against you. “I told you, Dollface. You don’t want her here for this.”

He kisses you on the mouth, chaste and lingering; so gentle that for a split second it makes you ache for what you once had with him. James always was very good at making love to you, at lavishing you with a softness and a tenderness even in the darkest of times. But now you can only shiver underneath his weight, because you know that’s not what’s about to happen. 

“Seventeen months, moya omegya,”  he rumbles quietly, lips brushing yours with the words. “My bed suddenly cold, not knowing if you were alive or dead. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

His tone of voice is so intimately familiar that it makes your heart clench, bringing back memories of a life you’ve fought so hard to put behind you. “Please,” you whisper. “Don’t do this.”

He tuts and shakes his head softly, as if he’s actually remorseful. “How this goes depends entirely on you. I want you to know that.” He hasn’t stopped working his hand against you, rubbing his palm against your clit and smiling at how you shudder beneath him and your body betrays you. You watch his nostrils flare as he smells the reaction he’s pulling from you against your will. “Sweet girl,” he coos. “You just can’t help it, can you?” You toss your head and screw your eyes shut, but he’s having none of it. He yanks your hair and hisses at you to open your eyes. “No,” he warns, once he’s got your attention. He moves back, getting up onto his knees and shrugging off his jacket. “You’re going to watch. The whole time.” His hands land on his belt, the buckle clinking as he opens it and undoes his pants. “I want to look right in your eyes while I take back what’s mine.” He shoves his pants down along with his underwear. His cock springs free, already hard and wet at the tip. A part of him that’s been inside you hundreds of times, probably. Something you’ve craved and debased yourself for. 

Seeing it reignites your shame, but it’s the way you feel your cunt pulse and release a fresh wave of slick, that really makes you start resisting again. “Nnh!”

“Ah ah ah, Dollface. That’s not gonna work.”

“Nugh! Lemmo go!”  

You fight, of course you do, but it’s almost worse that way, as it only points out how comically mismatched you are to him. He laughs at you and holds down your thrashing body, barely even grunting from the effort of subduing you. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, chuckling breathily as he forces you down with one hand and strokes himself with the other. “I have to tell you, kotenok. I’ve been looking forward to this.” 

“I hate you!” You manage to get a hand free and you flail, hitting and clawing at him. He inhales sharply as your nails scratch his face. He knocks your hand away with a surprised hiss and, wide eyed, touches the spot where a tiny line of red is welling up on his cheek. The next thing you know, he’s backhanding you, sending spots into your vision and knocking you out of your senses for a few seconds. Your ears ring and you blink, stunned.

His hand appears at your throat, squeezing, pressing up against the arteries. You briefly grapple with him, grabbing his forearm and fighting, but then his thumb notches into place and digs into your glands. Your cries taper off and you go limp with a pathetic, mewling whimper. “Nnnh …”

He leers down at you, adjusting his grip, still jerking his cock as he subdues you with the Hold. “Weak,” he says. “But that’s just how I like you.”

His thumb rubs in circles, sending a rush of liquid gold through your veins. It worsens the situation between your legs, and you can’t hide that any more than you can hide the humiliated tears that prick to your eyes as he shoves your dress up and rips your underwear straight off of you. He coos when he looks down and sees how wet you are. “Oh, omegechka.” He knees your legs further apart and drags his cockhead through your folds. “And this is you hating me?”

You shake with a silent sob, despising him with your whole being, hating yourself for reacting this way. Before James, you’d never met a man who coveted your omega nature so much, hadn’t known what it was to need an alpha that way, to have your body need him. And to think: you used to like it.

He lines himself up and sinks inside of you in one, unyielding push, forcing you to open to him, carving out his space inside of you. You cry out at the force of it, body clamping down hard and the delicate skin at your entrance stinging from the stretch, but he doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated. “Fuck,” he groans, grinding in deep, his pubic bone pressing against your clit, laughing darkly when it makes you squeal. “Oh, you sensitive?” He does it again, and again, doesn’t stop until he gets a high pitched, warbling moan from you. “Theere she is.” He digs his thumb in harder against your glands and stares right in your eyes as he watches the effect it has on you, soaking up the flush in your face and the furious tears welling at the corners of your eyes. “I know, Sweetheart, I know,” he murmurs. “You really can’t help it, can you?” You whimper and he nods along in mock sympathy. “Poor little thing. I can’t imagine what it must be like, to need it that bad.” 

“James,”

He pulls out halfway and shoves back in, hard, rumbling in pleasure when it elicits another yelp from you. His other hand grabs at your waist, fingers digging into the soft give of your body. He hums dirtily. “I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised. You look good for having just pushed out that pup. You look healthy.” You whine in protest and he fucks in hard again, baring his teeth in a mean smile. “Yeah, momma, you heard me.” He pulls out, thrusts back in. 

“Ss-stop.”

He laughs. “Don’t be like that, krasotka [Pretty(n.)]. I like it. You always were too skinny for my taste.” He runs his hand from your waist up to the top of your dress, yanking it down along with the cup of your bra, and groaning when your swollen breast spills out. You squeal in rage as he curses quietly, eyes going molten and unfocused. “Fuck, Honey, look at you.”

You start thrashing again hard, trying to hit him, but you only get a glancing blow to the side of his head before he refixes his hand on your throat and clamps down in another Hold. He gives you a firm shake. “Settle down. I told you: I like it..”

“Nnn, fuck you!” You spit on him, but he only laughs and wipes it away, leering down at you and continuing gleefully,

“Shouldn’t be skinny like some damn underwear model. Mm mn, naw. Now you’re nice and soft, just like you should be. Somethin’ for Alpha to grab onto. Bitty waist and a fat ass.” He grabs your waist again and pulls you down into the next roll of his hips, changing the angle and hitting that spot inside of you that makes stars burst in your vision.

“Ah!” 

“Mmhm. Right there baby? Yeah, thaat’s the spot. I remember.” He’s panting open-mouthed, breathless as he taunts you, “I remember everything. What you like. How you feel. The sounds you make. Fuck.”  He shoves into you hard and holds there, his licked-red lips curling up wickedly. “Your cunt’s fluttering around me, Sweetheart. Clamping down so fucking hard.” 

“Nnh!”

He laughs, but his smile slackens as his own pleasure continues to build. He angles back and looks down your body, stares at where his cock is disappearing inside of you with lewd, wet sounds. “Shit, momma. And this pussy snapped back real good, didn’t it?” 

You cry out angrily, but it’s what he wants: to see you aroused and humiliated and furious at him. He sets a punishing pace, his hips slamming against you hard on the end of each, brutal thrust; his open belt and the zip of his fly digging into your ass every time he grinds inside. “You haven't been fucking anybody,” he says smugly. “How long’s it really been, mamochka? Hm? How long since another man was in this cunt?”

You moan miserably, his cock driving hard against your walls, too rough but not painful enough to keep it from feeling good. James is big, has an alpha’s cock, and it’s never been a physical possibility for him to be inside of you and not rub against every spot that makes your body light up in pleasure. You shake your head and try to close your eyes, but he pushes his hand up harder underneath your jaw, shaking you. “Uh uh. Look at me.” 

You can’t fight off the command of his Voice, not when he’s already dominating you so completely. Your eyes open against your will, full of tears, and he rumbles in satisfaction. 

“Better.”

Every whimper and mewl you make drives him on, stoking the angry satisfaction that’s burning in his eyes—eyes that you can’t look away from as you cry out again and again, little “Ah, ah, ah's” that interrupt the cadence of your skin slapping together, all of his eager growls and satisfied grunts.

“That’s it, shlyukha,” he pants, hips snapping in hard, again and again. “You—ugh—you let Alpha know how good that feels. Don’t hold it back from me.” His breathing is getting heavier the closer he gets, his composure and even his anger losing some of their hold as he fucks you harder, sinks down on you farther, covers you with his body fully as he ruts into you in pursuit of his climax. “Shit,”  he hisses not far from your ear, face stuffed in your neck. 

You keen high in your throat at his proximity to your bonding glands—a plaintive sound that directly contradicts the panicked ‘no!’ that flashes in your brain. His hand leaves the front of your neck and scoops around behind instead, gripping you at the nape in a Scruff that feels just as toe-curlingly right as the Hold had. 

For a very split second, his breath hitches and his growling trips into a needy whimper. “O-oh …” And that’s when you feel it: his knot starting to catch on the end of each thrust.

“Ah!” You cry out sharply and grab onto him, helpless to keep your body from seeking out more, from clinging to him and clamping down hard as his knot grows and triggers you into orgasm. “Hhgnn …”

He goes feral when he feels your body locking down on him, growling and shoving in and grinding to ensure that he catches inside and ties you together. His hand abandons your neck entirely as he gives in to the instinct to rut, both arms wrapping around your waist, scooping under your back and holding you still for him to fuck furiously against. The tug of his knot inside your cunt makes you sob and come harder, losing sense of yourself as the pleasure cuts through you like a knife. 

“Fuck, fuck, ohhfuck …” The sound of his deep voice, so lost in the desperation and helplessness of his own pleasure, makes your belly flare hot with new arousal even as you’re coming down the other side of it. You gasp and pant, and eventually whimper as the bliss dissipates and you become more aware of him on top of you, grunting and groaning and fucking into your tie as he rides out the long, debilitating climax of an alpha.

You keep your eyes closed and cry, hating that it still feels good as he fucks into you, grinds down on your clit and gives your another orgasm, and another. You wait for him to finish as your brain fills with the high that comes after, that unavoidable pink cloud that you know is going to seal your fate and make you helpless to him for the next thirty minutes, at least. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head in the direction of the pillows. 

As the high starts to take you, you think about how, if you’d just kept your gun holstered behind by the headboard like you’d planned, you could be blowing his brains out right about now.

A.N.: Soooo ... This is the rape-iest thing I've ever ever written. I hope y'all are okay. Just wanted to drop a note to let you know that this fic WILL lighten up and not be quite so, well, rapey, in the future. Thanks for reading! 💖Sarah

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[fxckn-sxck-fr]

id lovee to hear ur rankings of the comic book men from appearing to be the most normal to something is obviously wrong w them (if that makes sense... like,,,, who is and isnt an obv red flag)

ur writing keeps me fed :3

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐒…

!!! GN reader, manipulation, gaslighting, mentions of stalker-ish picture-taking, mentions of schizophrenia and anxiety, poor treatment of mental illness, mentions of violent behaviors, murderous Bucky Barnes, Tim Drake (he’s just a problem), mentions of suicidal tendencies, can be translated as platonic or romantic.

EAAAAATT!!!!! EEEEAAAAATTTT!!!!!!!!! EAT MY WRITING!!!! CONSUME IT!!!!!!!!!!!

Remember, this is from least to most, meaning we’ll talk about the seemingly well-adjusted folks first and gradually move up to the, “okay, what the fuck is wrong with him” peeps.

Wally West: The way he’s playing everyone like a fiddle is downright disrespectful. He’s filled to the brim with green flags, easily appearing as one of the safest guys on the planet. Even when you start to suspect something, you have to constantly second guess yourself, because come on… it’s Wally. What the fuck can he do wrong? Don’t even bother voicing any of your concerns. No one — and I mean no one — will believe you. Having problems with Wally West? The embodiment of a warm summer evening? Damn, that sounds like a you problem. Poor Wally, having to deal with a crazy weirdo.

Dick Grayson: He’s got an amazing personality and pretty privilege working for him. At this rate, the masses manipulate themselves. Only those who are extremely perceptive will pick up on the cold glint in his eyes, and even then, the mystique only adds to his charm. By the time you realize he’s been hiding a darker side, it’s too late. Everyone’s too captivated by how endearing Dick is to hear you out. Even those who know him personally — who know about his struggles and rough patches — think you’re full of shit. Dick’s an emotionally mature man, so why don’t you just talk it out with him?

Steve Rogers: This is a bit unfair, considering the leverage he’s granted as Captain America, but hey… work what you got. While it may seem obvious to you that he’s way too overbearing and protective, good luck trying to get other people on your side. Everyone else thinks it’s a part of his 40s charm. Social norms were just different back then; why can’t you be more appreciative of his old-fashioned care? Besides, you’re probably overreacting. Is it really that bad? Steve is the leader of the Avengers, so maybe you’re just taking his authoritative demeanor the wrong way.

Clark Kent: I’m gonna be so for real, any man from a fuckass state like Kansas is going to come with some personality quirks. People will probably give him the benefit of the doubt by default. Just a farm boy trying to navigate the big city and can’t even hurt a fly. Sure, he can be odd at times, but nothing makes him an inherently bad guy. This is the same man that helps old people cross the street, for god’s sake! He most definitely means well, it’s just a matter of setting boundaries with him. What’s the worst he can do?

Remy LeBeau: Despite what differing opinions may say about The Gambit, Remy seems like he’s got his head on his shoulders. His “red flags” are more on the blurry side. Do you count excessive flirting as a red flag? What about hiding behind charisma and a fake ego instead of going to therapy? Some people may say yes, others no. But in terms of glaring red flags, Remy’s relatively clean. We’ve all got our issues, no? Being a thief doesn’t make you a psycho. That being said, due to Remy’s shifty past, people may be more inclined to listen should you ever express that something’s wrong.

Peter Parker: Honestly… he’s a bit of a weirdo. Nothing obvious at first, but the longer you know him, the more behaviors you may pick up on that make you go, “oh… well… that’s weird”. Take his Polaroid obsession, for example. He’s got at least one photo in every jacket pocket, dozens in his wallet, and a fuck ton in his desk. Poor guy accidentally spilled them all over the ground once, which naturally sparked rumors. But Peter’s a sweetheart. Clingy, but still a sweetheart. Maybe he’s just a little messed up due to everything he’s lost in his life.

Bruce Wayne: Okay. Red flags in the playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne? Absolutely unheard of. He’s an absolute angel. According to all of the stan accounts out there, he could do nothing wrong. But red flags in the real Bruce Wayne? Where do we even begin. Distrusting as fuck, paranoid, argumentative, the occasional fit of violence, a known manipulator and liar… want me to keep going, because I can. It’s very hard to rank Bruce due to the ginormous contrast between general public opinion and those who actually know him, so he goes smack in the middle. Billionaire Bruce Wayne would never be a horrible person to you, but the real Bruce Wayne 100% would.

Jaime Reyes: Because of how mental illness is stigmatized, Jaime’s unfortunately labeled to be dangerous. But it’s not really his fault. That damn scarab has him muttering to himself like a crackhead, and naturally assumptions will be made. When actually given a chance, people will learn that Jaime’s a nice kid. He just probably struggles with schizophrenia or really bad anxiety. Yes, his paranoia can get bad, but again; mental illness. He’s never proven himself to a threat, despite what others may think. He just needs help (but there’s no way to combat the manipulation of Khaji Da. Jaime lost that battle the moment he became Blue Beetle).

Hal Jordan: Oh, yeah. He’s got red flags alright. But they’re mostly normal ones, like his ego and horrendous stubborn streak. Lots of guys out there are like that, and are they considered freaks? No. Well, not all of them. However, it is a bit concerning that he’s willing to throw hands at the drop of a hat. Bro’s one major freak out away from catching assault charges like they’re Pokémon. But if it’s any consolation, it should be noted that he hasn’t gotten into major legal trouble. On Earth. Yet. Some call him rough around the edges, others call him a severely troubled individual. Either way, he definitely needs to seek professional help.

Scott Summers: MAJOR red flags. He’s an overbearing control freak that really needs to work on his… well… his everything. Emotional intelligence, temper, daddy issues… yeah, no. He’s an amazing leader, but probably someone you should steer clear from otherwise. Most wouldn’t be surprised if you two were having issues. It’s not like he wears all of his problems on his sleeve; the iceberg goes much deeper than that. Though he sure as hell doesn’t present himself as a well-adjusted member of society. Proceed at your own risk. Don’t say you weren’t warned, because you probably were.

Bucky Barnes: This is the opposite of Captain America’s case. His reputation as the Winter Soldier kind of skews the perception of him to be a walking red flag. And you know, he really is. Bucky is extremely dangerous. Down to snap necks anytime, anywhere, no amount of charm or endearing quirks will make people feel fully safe around him. His history of violence did not stop post-brainwashing. And it’s not like he’s hiding it, either. There’s this crazed gleam in his eyes that just screams “fuck around and find out,” no matter what his mood is. Who in their right mind would involve themself with THE Winter Soldier?! Yeah, no shit you’re having issues with him. He is an issue.

Tim Drake: Bro is the epitome of “you’re scaring the hoes.” He could be walking down the street — face neutral, hands in his pockets — and total strangers will get the sense that something is deeply wrong with him. The aura around him exudes the reddest of flags. Yes, his face and intelligence are attractive, but even those who have fallen for his pretty boy swag can’t help but sigh dreamily and think, “he really needs to be institutionalized.” Disturbing humor. Creepy staring. Mood swings. Suicidal tendencies. Sadomasochism to the max. The list goes on and on and on. If Dead Dove: Do Not Eat was a person, it’d be him. What were you expecting? It’s Tim fucking Drake.