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tojii-fshiguro · 7 months

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b. barnes // 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓉ℯ 𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽ℴℴ𝒹.

bucky barnes × (femme) reader.

summary: ❝to keep your small village protected from would-be attackers, presented omegas must be sacrificed to the mysterious alpha in the woods.❞

genre: ⚠ dark and adult content below. minors, dni.

warnings: non-con, non-con touching, non-con kissing, dub-con, dub-con touching, dub-con kissing, smut, unprotected sex, hunting/stalking, a/b/o themes, forced bonding, loss of virginity, canon violence, physical violence, mentions of blood and human sacrifice, and strong language. 18+ content. minors, dni.

word count: 3,514

note: this story contains adult and dark themes. please, do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! i am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. you have been warned. *all grammatical mistakes are my own, not proofread.

*an: if you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help! i do not condone any of the actions described in this story, this is a work of fiction.

A cold wind blew in from the north, making the trees rustle like living things. It was growing colder with every passing day as winter began its arrival. Yule had transformed the fiery hues of autumn twilight to sparkled, frosted mornings and bitter winds. You went to the window. A fine glimmer of glossy frost formed intricate swirls on the glass, as sparkling snow softened the outside world into one flurry.

You looked on as the pale, cold light of winter moonrise illuminated your village as the townsfolk worked under the stars to prepare for the Winter Solstice. You couldn’t help but frown as you watched them place green garland on the fringes of rooftops, and light candles that led into the dark forest, in the shape of carved wolves. This time last winter, you were home with your family; sitting fireside as you and your younger siblings drank sweetened milk and almond honeyed toast. Life had been colorful, full of vibrant greens, warm reds, and soft dusky blues. Now, it was nothing but a black and white night of frost that crawled along the dark outline of barren trees and twig branches. Snowflakes swirled down gently in the ghostly moonlight, and iced shadows crept along the December ground.

“(Y/N)?” a small voice called out from behind.

You turned as Gervaise came to stand next to you, peering out at the snowfall that drifted against the window. Gervaise had been your closest friend since childhood, she had been a plump girl in her youth, but now she was the most beautiful woman in your village. She had long legs that complemented her slender figure, golden hair that shone under sunlight, and azure eyes as blue and clear as the sky itself.

She shivered against the winter-cold that seeped into your bones as she neared the frosted windowpane, “Aren’t you cold?” she asked.

You scoffed, “Warmer than I would be out there.”

Truth be told, you were burning from the inside out. A sheen sweat had started to form between your breasts and all of your folds and creases. Gervaise scooted closer and you unthinkingly flinched away, her heat was rolling off of her in waves and the strong scent of her made you lightheaded as tangs of jasmine, rose, and orange blossom overwhelmed your senses.

You moved away as you looked into the room you were being kept in. Women close in age all slept soundly with soft snores, their heated scents interlacing with one another to form a jumbled mess of musk, amber, bergamot, and warm sugar. It was a synchronous heat amongst the presented Omegas in preparations for the village’s annual sacrificial solstice to the White Wolf.

Gervaise nudged your shoulder teasingly, “It won’t be so bad tomorrow, (Y/N),” she tried.

You rolled your eyes, “We’re being sacrificed, Gervaise! How can it not be so bad?”

Her small smile fell as the weighted truth of your words settled on her shoulders, “I’m sorry… I was just trying to make light of it all.”

“I know,” you sighed, “You can’t make light of this, there’s too much darkness.”

You awoke hours later to the soft murmurs of falling tears as mothers dressed their daughters in traditional white hoods. White, the color of purity, innocence. You scoffed–the virgin’s color. Your own mother came to your bedside, a hood in hand and an expectant look in her eyes. You rubbed your cold feet together and reluctantly dressed.

“It’s not as bad as it seems, my love,” she spoke as she combed your hair.

You looked at the other Omegas in the room, most of whom you’ve grown up with. Idony, Meliora, and Sabine. You teared. You and your siblings used to play with Sabine as children. Idony taught you to weave dolls out of straw and vines. And you and Meliora would harvest wild strawberries together in early summer after long hours at the lake. The thought of never seeing either of them after today was heart-wrenching.

Your mother placed the hood over your head and tucked away stray hairs behind your ears as she took one last, tearful, look at you. She placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and took your hands in hers, pressing a small vial against your palms.

“Put this on once you’re away from the others,” she whispered against your hair, “It’ll hide your scent for a short time, then make your way across the stream, you’ll be safe there until the ceremony is over.”

Before you could ask more, the village mayor entered and ordered you and the other Omegas out into the square. The ceremony had officially begun.

Gervaise squeezed your hand as the mayor lit the great Yule log, the candles sculpted as white wolves. You looked around; Idony was pale in the face, Meliora shed silent tears as she held her hands in prayer, and Sabine’s chest rose and fell in shallow, frightened breaths. You held the vial tight in your hand as you stood stoic; though your pounding heart told another story.

The bells of the church began to toll as midnight quickly approached. The first toll the mayor led you all down the candlelit path that led into the mouth of the forest, the second toll you and the other Omegas were left alone as the full moon shone down on you from above, the third toll was followed by an echoed howl and the beats of your feet as you all ran through the thicket.

You ran and ran until it was only you, the full moon, and the trees. You stopped to rest against a frosted tree, your lungs burned with biting ice as you panted; your breaths coming out as vapored clouds that wisped around your head. You quickly took the vial and rubbed the liquid over your scent glands. The synthetic scent of cracked pepper, spiced ginger, decayed pear, and rotting leaves all toiled together to mask your natural, sweet and warm odor. You took a moment to calm your beating heart and collect your thoughts before bolting through the treeline. You needed to find Gervaise before the perfume wore off.

Bucky watched from the shadows as he tracked a pretty, golden-haired Omega. Her scent wasn’t unpleasant, but it didn’t ignite a fire deep within his groin, either. He followed the floral scent trail of this next best woman as she wandered aimlessly through the dense grove of pine. The woman’s face was rosy and tear-stained as the cold bit her cheeks and nose. It was pathetic, really. How she sniffled and hiccupped as she held herself against the winter winds or when she tripped and slipped over iced snowdrifts. Bucky was about to make his move when a sweet scent, carried on an icy breeze, caught his attention. The blood in his veins burst into flames as a deep desire awoke in him. Primal lust took over as he abandoned his former prey to hunt for the next. He bounded through the woods, ducking under long branches, and leaping across overgrown oak roots. It was the wildness of it that sent Bucky into a feral frenzy, in all of his years protecting this paltry village, he’d never scented anything as sweet and enthralling as this. Spun sugar, vanilla bean, patchouli, and white pumpkin with caramel glaze. His teeth ached as he took in the sweetness of your scent.

When Bucky finally found you, you were breathless and flushed with heat. Your hand on your stomach as a wave of tightness in your belly coiled and coiled. He scented the air, then. Groaning as he caught wind of your musky-sweet tang. The front of his buckskin breeches tightened uncomfortably as his rut took hold of his body. He wanted you, so he’d have you.

You whimpered as your cramps inflamed your insides. You were on fire, despite the bitter winter cold. You shed your wolf pelt that hung over your shoulders and loosened the front laces of your bodice, as you slumped against the nearest tree and focused on slowing your racing heart. The faster you calmed down, the faster you’d be able to find Gervaise and get across that damned stream to safety.

Just as your heart began to slow, a heady scent brought on iced winds set it back into panicked motion. An amber woody fragrance, with nutmeg, vanilla, and sandalwood ensnared your forebrain. You were frozen, scared like a hunted doe as you took in the masculine scent that seemed to scream “Alpha”.

Bucky watched as you looked around, trying to pinpoint his hiding spot. His heart skipped a beat in excitement as you took off into the thicket, leaving your pelt behind on the snowy ground. He chased you, then. Too focused on the hunt to worry about cornering you, too focused on you. He’d chase you down until you fainted from exhaustion if he had to.

You were faster than he expected, more agile and hellbent on escaping him than you had appeared to be. He felt an odd sense of pride as he watched you nimbly dodge and duck under and over every branch and uprooted oak that came into your way. But Bucky had the advantage, this was his territory, not yours. He knew his hunting grounds, not you. So when you came to a skidded stop at a broken bridge, he wasn’t the least bit surprised. But what did surprise him was the little snarl that left you before you broke away from him once more.

You ran and ran until your feet were numb with cold and your lungs frosted over with every breath you took. He was close, too close, and you were forced to abandon the plan on crossing the stream to safety. Gods–you didn’t even know where you were anymore. You could be going in circles and you’d be none the wiser, everything looked the same in this untouched part of the wood. You berated yourself for straying from the path, now you were lost, alone, and being hunted. You began to cry as you thought of your fate, you didn’t want to be sacrificed, you just wanted to go home back to your family. Back to your life.

You were ready to give up, your feet were tired, legs weakened, and your chest burned from the cold. You fell to your knees and looked up to the full moon, exhaustion taking over your thoughts. You were desperate and didn’t have the energy to be surprised at yourself when you began to pray to the moon above.

“Gods above… Please, please, let me live and I’ll devote myself to you. My heart, mind, soul, and body, please,” you prayed.

Just as you were about to laugh at yourself for your foolishness, a flickering candlelight in the nearby distance caught your eye. You mindlessly followed the light that pierced through the dense darkness of night, like a moth to a flame. As you got closer, you saw the lantern-light belonged to a small cottage fringed with winterberries and garland. You were uplifted as you believed the gods had answered your prayer. Without a second thought, your feet began to move on their own through the snow as you raced toward the home. You knocked once, then twice, then thrice. When there was no answer, you apologized to whatever being had heard you pray, before turning the brass doorknob and welcoming yourself inside.

The warmth of a crackling fire embraced you posthaste as you closed the door behind you. You made your way to the fireplace, rubbing your hands over the flame as you warmed yourself. The house was eerily silent as you looked around. You saw the carved candles from your village on the mantelpiece, vases of starry blue, pale pink, and white glory of the snow, and bright yellow winter jasmine were placed on the tabletops, and garland with holly flowers was wrapped around the railing of a small staircase that led upstairs. You made your way up the stairs as curiosity led you on. You called out for the owner of the home once again as you reached the top, but to no avail; the house was empty.

You crept along the creaking floorboards into a small room, illuminated by a single lantern with frosted glass windows. You explored the room. There was a bed, with an oak headboard, and thick, grey, and brown wolf and bear pelts. You sat down on the edge of the bed with a soft bounce as you rested your tired feet. Ahead of you was a wooden chest with intricate images of Yule logs, goats, and boars. Something deep within your gut urges you to go to it, to open it, and look upon its secrets; but the feeling made you uneasy, it made you afraid of what you’d find.

But you knew better than to ignore your gut, so you went to it, opened it, and looked upon its secrets. You nearly screamed as you pulled forth white hood, after white hood, after white hood. Your hands shook as you emptied the chest, white hoods covered the ground like the snow outside. There were more hoods than you could count, most of them much older than you. You sobbed as you slammed the chest shut, too focused on the white hoods before you to notice the slithering notes of amber, nutmeg, vanilla, and sandalwood that now threatened to constrict, and swallow you whole.

Your body sensed him before your mind did, your hairs stood on end, and your core tightened with primal, animalistic want. You only recognized his imposing presence after it was too late. Your throat dried as you slowly turned around to face the Alpha from the woods. He stood in the doorway, shirtless and steaming, as his heat fought against the cold of winter. To say he was big, would be an understatement. He was wordless as he strode toward you with an urgency driven by desire. You shuffled away, sobbing as he quickly crawled atop of you, trapping you beneath him. You fought against him, slapping and scratching his chest and face as he buried his face in your neck. Deeply inhaling your sickly sweet scent.

“I wonder if you taste as sweet as you smell, ‘Mega,” he said as he nipped the lobe of your ear.

Your heart dropped as he ripped at your bodice like an animal, tossing the ruined fabric aside as he bared your breasts to the air. The Alpha brushed his lips against your neck, your jaw, and mouth as he tasted you. You had never been kissed before, the feeling of it all was foreign as you felt his tongue explore your mouth. You squirmed as he palmed your breast, his thumb flicking and pinching over your sensitive nipple. Bucky let out a low snarl of disapproval as you tried to wriggle away from him, and when you ignored his warning, he bit down on your nipple. You yelped and beat against his back, clawing and punching as you flailed and thrashed. In your struggle you managed to slip out from underneath his body. Then, it was a desperate fight of him dragging you by your ankles, and you kicking wildly and blindly. With luck you landed a strong kick to his face that bloodied his nose. You ran, then. Practically flying down the flight of stairs as you made a beeline for the front door–to your freedom. You felt the cold snow on your toes as one foot met the icy ground, but the other foot was caught.

You fell on your face as Bucky dragged you back into his house. Blood stained his face and a dangerous fire was reflected in his blue eyes. He took you by your neck and forced you down onto the staircase, entrapping you under his weight. Your legs kicked out as he forced himself between your thighs, he snarled again, keeping a tight grip on the back of your neck. He ripped away the remaining pieces of your clothes, ridding you of the white garments, of your innocence, your purity.

He lifted your hips and placed a strong hand on your back, forcing you into an arch. You yipped as you felt a wet warmth lick up your sex. You tried to curl away, but his grip on you was strong and firm. A heat bloomed within your gut as Bucky dipped his tongue between your wet folds, fucking you with his hot tongue. Your brain hazed over as he stroked and rubbed your sweet spot of concentrated pleasure with his thumb. He was devouring you, and you felt your resolve melt away with every delicious flick and swipe of his tongue. You moaned and allowed yourself to arch into his mouth, desperately seeking more pleasure. You ground your cunt on his face and moaned at the feeling of him tightly gripping your hips as he gave you what you wanted–needed.

You clawed at the stairs beneath you as your voice grew shrill, the coil in your belly was beginning to unravel with every lick. Bucky felt you stiffen as he brought you to the edge of your pleasure, he sank his tongue deep inside you until he finally felt you shudder hard against him. You cried out as you came on his tongue, pure white fire ignited in your veins, consuming your thoughts, and burning away any fight you had left. The aftershocks of your pleasure left you shaking and wanting.

Without warning, Bucky buried his thick length in you with one hard stroke; mercilessly tearing through your untouched barrier. For a moment there was only a burning pain as he forced himself deeper. He pulled out a few inches, and then slammed back into you. Again and again. The Alpha above you howled with pleasure as he rutted into you hard and fast. You looked over your shoulder and moaned as you watched his narrow hips thrust against you. His eyes met yours and he bared his teeth as he indulged in his animalistic pleasure. With your mouth agape you felt another spark of pleasure ignite within you, you cried out for him, then, begging him to stoke the fire that threatened to burn, to consume you.

Your scents bled together, creating the beginning knot of your bond; his sandalwood and vanilla notes, duetting your patchouli and caramel glaze in perfect harmony. You whined as he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and clenching. He flipped you onto your back, spreading your weak legs wide as he entered you once more. He reached places that had you blaspheming as you chanted his title like a prayer.

Alpha, Alpha, Alpha…

He added fuel to your evergrowing fire as he reached down to your bundle of nerves, rubbing firm circles as he fucked into your wet cunt. He kissed you again, your lips following his lead as he claimed your mouth with his tongue. You moaned as you tasted yourself on him. His lips trailed down your jaw, peppering wet kisses down your body until he reached the scent gland on your neck. He scented you, then. A low growl left his chest as the base of his cock swelled, your pussy constricting in turn. Your howling moans clashed in dissonance as he pushed you over the edge into white-hot pleasure. Bucky thrusted into you, harder, faster, as his pleasure grew and grew until it finally exploded. As his warmth flooded you another sensation sent your senses into hyperdrive–his teeth sinking into your neck. Your arms and legs instinctively wrapped around him as he bonded you, marking you as his.

You murmured incoherently as your bodies locked together, you were so full of him that you could focus on nothing, but the feel of him locked inside you. Your head lolled to the side as your exhaustion set in, your bones felt heavy as sleep lulled you. You were vaguely aware of the man atop of you, too drunk on mated pleasure to fully acknowledge how his eyes began to once again devour your body.

He kissed your wound, breathing you in as he did, “What’s your name, Omega?”

“(Y/N),” you rasped.

“Bucky,”

As you sobered, the weight of your situation became clearer. All of those white hoods, all of those Omegas that never returned home… Your breathing picked up as panic sparked like lightning in your veins. You shoved on Bucky’s chest as you started to wiggle out from him, tugging on his knot. He snarled and snapped at you and you flinched as unshed tears glossed your eyes.

“Don’t hurt me, please,” you whimpered, “Please, I–I don’t want to die.”

“I’m not going to kill you, I’m going to keep you,”

Keep you? You trembled, “What about all of the other Omegas? What happened to them?”

He cupped your face and traced the bridge of your nose, then the cupid’s bow of your lips, “Them I killed,” he whispered with a ghost of a smile.

last updated: 10/5/2023. 10:59 pm, cdt.

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cissywritess · 9 months

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Teachers pet

Summary: your professor has interest in you.

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Warning: 18+ dark themes, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

From day one, he had his eyes on you. He didn’t give a fuck if you were his student. You were pure. Untouched. Something he craved.

And when he asked you to go to a cafe with him as a “friendly gesture” you didn't hesitate to say yes and jump on the opportunity. After that, you noticed that your grade in his class went up a significant amount. When you asked about it he said your work was very inspirational.

You and Steve, he asked you to please call him Steve as it felt like you two were good friends,

You didn’t think any of it as he didn't ask for anything and he rarely asked you questions like any guy who was interested in you would ask.

You were oblivious about everything and that turned him on. Every night he would jerk off of the thought of your pretty plumped lips around his cock. He’d even get hard in class while you chewed your pencil eraser.

One particular day he asked you to stay after class.

“ I have a question,” he said, at first you thought this was about your homework or something but then he asked “Would you like to go out with me,”

You were shocked at his question, “that’s inappropriate Steve, I’m sorry but I’m your student and your my teacher, it better if we’re just friends,” you told him. You wouldn’t lie he wasn’t ugly but you liked this class and you wouldn’t jeopardize it.

Steve was taken aback, his face showed no emotion but deep down he was pissed. When he didn’t say anything you spoke,

“Steve?”

“It’s Professor Rogers,” his tone was strict.

You wouldn’t lie that it didn’t hurt a little, you didn’t say anything more and left when he said you should leave.

You were surprised when your grade dropped to a D- when it was at an A. And when you told him about it he said that you were doing a bad job and that u need improvement and that the school gives out free tutor lessons. You were hurt, and you had sensitive feelings which didn't help your case.

A couple of days later you couldn't help but notice he was giving a lot of attention to a girl in the same class as you. He would ask her to stay after class almost every day and when you went to the cafe where they share their WiFi with students you’d see them together.

You were supposed to be a good girl just like your mother always told you but you couldn’t help but feel envy. The treatment he is giving her he was giving it to you.

You were so emotional that it started to affect you. So you stopped going to his classes altogether.

He noticed. when you heard a knock on your small apartment door you didn't think any of it. When you opened it there he was. You were stunned when you were about to ask what he was doing here he let himself in.

“I've missed you, sweetheart” he looked around your apartment examining it.

“I'm sorry sir but you have to leave now’s not a good time,” you practically mumbled.

He groaned at the name you given him. “Say that again it makes me hard,”

You almost gasped, what is wrong with him you thought. He walked past you, and instead of walking out he closed the door and locked it. Now you were scared. He removed his jacket and made his way towards you.

“What are you-” he shushes you. His hands make it around your waist you tried to take his hands off of you but he was too strong. He pulled you in and took a long sniff of your hair. You felt tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

He made his way toward your neck but he stopped at your ear. “Make one fucking noise and I will kill you,” he whispered it to you.

You were shocked that you didn't feel him biting and kissing your sweet spots on your neck.

He lead you to your room, you suspected he’s been here before because he didn’t ask where it was.

“You don’t know how much control you have over me,” he pushed you on the bed, you quickly tried to run away but he pulled your hair yanking you back.

He undid your clothes when he had you right under him while he straddled you to keep you in place. He then shed his own clothes. Everything was happening so fast you didn’t react until his tip was teasing your folds. You were about to scream on the top of your lungs he covered your mouth and nose. You tried to get him off but he didn’t budge one bit. You panicked once you realized what he was doing, which made you run out of oxygen faster.

As you were about to black already seeing black dots he finally let you breathe. But he didn’t stop there he gave you a hard smack on your face. You felt the sting and heat of it instantly.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said harshly. Seconds later he thrusted into you, as he stretched your walls you felt the pain as he didn’t let you adjust.

“I know you love this you little slut,” he spat in your face, when you finally adjusted after a few for thrusts you soon felt some type of pleasure. You bit your tongue to keep your moans in.

It felt like forever when you tried to close your eyes and think of something else he would snack you hard. You tried begging him but it only turned him on more.

You suddenly started to feel a knot in your stomach. “I-I need to pee,” you choked out but he didn’t stop.

You couldn’t hold in your moan when you climaxed and that almost sent Steve over the edge. You thought he was gonna come but he didn’t stop.

You came another time and another and another and so on until your choked on your sobs and begged him to stop.

He buried his face into your neck as he came groaning. You hoped he would leave but his cock stayed right in you as he moved to the side to spoon you. He kissed you on your head and put his heavy arm over you making it impossible for you to move. You were left stunned that whole night, processing what just happened.

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chrissmissus · 2 years

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The Offer

Pairing(s): Dark Tony Stark x reader, (dark) Pepper Potts x reader

Summary: Sometimes we just need a push in the right direction,

Warnings: this is an 18+ fic. This chapter contains breaking and entering, threatening and choking. No smut this chapter.

A/N: Well it is finally here, the long wait is finally over. I’m gonna try and stay consistent just bare with me lovelies, I’m so proud of myself. Love y’all lots, enjoys!

It all started when Pepper Potts came into the bakery. Never in a million years had you seen a woman so beautiful in there with her solid black heels and strawberry blonde hair.

1 year ago

“Welcome to Sweets! What can I get started for ya?” You were smiling brightly because it made the customers feel more welcomed. The last thing you wanted was for your annoying boss to tell you to do so. That you look so much prettier when you smile.

“Hi,” she beamed as she directed her eyes between you and the menu looked so sophisticated in her power suit, kinda like a lawyer, “I’ve never been here unfortunately,” she grinned giving you her full attention “So tell me what you think is best,”

“Well, no shocker you haven’t heard of this place, it’s kinda a hole in the wall,” you shrugged your shoulders as dusting your hands off on your apron. “I love the lemon blueberry cupcakes. The blueberry are the sweet while the lemon is the sour.” you smile as you tell her this, rememberingthe last time you ate them.

“I’ll get a dozen of them than.” You looked at her a little shocked but didn’t say anything not wanting to look unprofessional. No one had ever asked what you liked and actually got it. It made you feel important, needed.

“Ok I’m all over it, Ms?” You look with a questioning look for her name.

“Potts.”

That was the first time you met Pepper and she began to come in every single day and order something new each time. You two become close, sharing life stories like how she was born in February, how her real name is Virginia and more intimate things. You told her about your rough upbringing and how your in college to do better for yourself. You didn’t tell her everything and she didn’t pry, but she knew there was more.

It wasn’t long before she offered you a job. At first you thought catering but then she later clarified she meant work for her. It would be triple the price and you could live in her house rent free. She knew you hated your boss, the fucked up hours he made you works and the down right nasty comments he would say to you. She didn’t want to see you go seeing as you need the money for college. Even though it sounded amazing, you told her you had to think about it because you really wanted to focus on school, so she left her number so you could call her when you figured it out. For three days Pepper didn't come to the bakery and you were still thinking. Tomorrow is the weekend ,your time off, so you would have time to yourself and to think about the offer. I mean this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, right?

You walk home because the bakery isn’t too far from your apartment or that’s what you tell yourself as you walk 4 blocks to your place. As you thankfully reach your last step of the stairs you think about how cheap and lazy your landlord is for not installing an elevator and how you have to suffer because you live on the fourth floor.

You open your door and toss your bag to the closest couch, not caring about the pretentious inside of it. You put your back to the wall, right beside the door and slide down until your butt is on the floor then you begin to violently yank your shoes off which leaves you breathless once they’re off. You look straight for a second, while trying to catch your breath but you see a silhouette on your far couch and it scares you. At first you thought it was your mind playing with you like when you mistake the jacket on the back of your door for a demon at night but never in history has a jacket turned on the light.

You had turned away because it was so bright but when you look back to the seat you were stunned to see a man you didn’t recognize sitting in your apartment. The more you looked you realized it was Tony Stark. Why was Tony Stark sitting in your apartment? How did he get in? Was he going to kill you? Why is he here? Tony Stark? He is the most dangerous man in New York. He is known for trafficking drugs and guns all over the state. He makes other mobs pay him for safety on his territory or they die. He has killed fathers and mothers and children, as far as you were concerned he is an awful person.

“Well hello princess,” he smiled at you. “I thought you would never come home.” You continued to stare at him like he would disappear any moment, like he wasn’t real.

“A- are you gonna kill me?” You said it so quiet but not on purpose but from fear as tears well in your eyes. He laughed at you, you are terrified shitless. Why is he laughing?

“Now why would I do that huh?” He had this fake shocked and confused look on his face. “Do you really think that low of me?” Yes. You shake your head from side to side, too fearful to say no.

He walks to you and gets down on your level. You look down not wanting to make eye contact with a killer but he gently pulls your chin. A single tear from your right eye falls down your face as you think about your last moments. You think he might say something, but he doesn’t. He lets go and begins to walk around in your living room, his shoes echoing throughout the space.

“You know my wife came home with these pastries saying she got them from a little bakery in town,” he pauses to turn to see if you’re paying attention. “When she began going everyday well, I couldn’t help but wonder what was taking all her attention, but all I found was you.” He was smiling but it did feel right.

“So you’re going to kill me?” You brokenly asked, wanting to know if you should unlock the door so the EMT’s could get you in the morning. He again turned his head to you.

“Let me finish,” he said with a sharp tone to match his glance before walking to your kitchen and looked around more, but stops at your fridge to look at all the things you had on it. Pictures, magnets and drawings from the kids that come to the bakery regularly “I watched you for a couple weeks,” weeks?? “And I couldn’t help but see why she was so infatuated by you. You’re sweet, you gave a kid a free cookie when he couldn’t get it himself so he wouldn’t feel left out, and I mean what is your secret to making such good desserts,hmm?”

“ I-I don’t know,” more tears continue to fall from both eyes. He nods his head as he eats your raspberries that he took from the fridge while leaning against your kitchen counter. You’re still sitting beside the front door and you think about running for it. His laugh pulls you from your idea.

“And here I was thinking you would say love or some bullshit like that. You’re a smart girl so you know if you run, the men I have posted outside will bring you right back here, and let’s be honest you don’t have the energy to run down those stairs,” Barely had any to get up them in the first place. You move a little bit to feel your butt and he gives you a death glance. He goes into the hallway and all you could think about was how bad you wanted him out of your house as you continue to let single tears fall from your eyes.

When he came back he has a picture frame in his hand. He had taken it off your picture wall on the other side.

“Is this your best friend? How cute,” he has this fake halfway smile on his face while you had fear coursing throughout your body. You stand up but stay still. “Look at you. So cute.”

“ W- W-,” he nods his head like he was telling you to spit it. You exhale very annoyingly but you didn’t let it show as you angrily wipe your tears away. “What do you want from me? I don’t know your wife.” You sound stuffy even though you wanted to sound aggressive.

He put the picture of you and your best friend down on the living room table as he walked closer to you.

“Monday when she comes in to see you, you my smart girl are gonna tell her you’re done thinking and that you want to work for her, you got it?” The look in his eye kept you quiet “Because if not I would have to pay a visit to that adore bff of yours, am I understood?”

You didn’t even have a minute to process what he had just said to you before he grabbed you by your throat and pushes your head back. It felt like he was trying to pull you from your head and he did. The feeling of hands around your throat sent an alarm through your body.

“Am I understood?” He says slowly and leans down a bit. You nod your head rapidly so he could take his hands off your throat. He eventually did let go and you gasp for air.

“Oh stop it I didn’t even squeeze that hard.” Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one being chocked. He snickered and for a moment you wondered if he knew what you were thinking. He leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m glad we had this talk princess,” he brushes your shoulder ever so slowly, like he was your romantic partner. “I hope you remember everything I said, I will be seeing you soon.”

You kept your eyes closed as he opened the door beside you but you didn’t miss it when he said

“Oh and let’s not tell Pepper about this ok? ” And with that he was gone as quietly as he came. You slide down the wall again feeling all the blood leave your body.

Pepper Potts

—-

After the events of Friday night, you stayed in bed the whole weekend. You didn’t do the laundry or clean the apartment or go partying. When Monday rolled around and it roll around quick, you didn’t want to go to work, but you didn’t want Tony back in your home. So you got up and got dress, hopped down the stairs and did your 4 block walk.

When you walked in you saw Pepper sitting in a chair, like she was waiting for you. She smiled at you but you continued walking. You felt so betrayed. Her husband came and threatened you to take her job offer. Why would she do that? Why you?

You walked to the back to put your stuff up and put your apron on. When you walked back to the front she was at the counter, and you took a sharpe breath.

“Good morning Ms. Potts, what can I do for you?” You really pushed that Ms part. She was taken aback, you never called her that. You didn’t look at her, you looked down at the ordering machine.

“Um,nothing today,” you had to look up from the machine. She was still smiling at you “I was just wondering if you thought about my offer.” You stopped what you were doing to look at her. You want to say fuck no but you remembered what Tony had said to you and you pulled yourself together. You take a deep breath and prepare yourself to lie as you look up.

“I’ll take it,”

“Oh I’m so excited, I thought you would say no,” you would have if it weren’t for her fucking husband and you could help but soften at her happiness.

You were into deep

#dark pepper potts x reader smut #dark tony stark smut #dark fanfiction #dark fic #dark pepper Potts smut #dark tony stark x reader smut #dark tony stark x reader #dark pepper potts x reader #dark tony stark x reader x pepper posts #dark pepper stark x reader x tony stark #dark mcu #dark marvel #dark!fic #dark!mcu #dark iron man x reader

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undiscovered-horizon · 2 years

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"Pointing fingers" - Dark!Matt Murdock x Reader

[TW: canon violence, unhealthy obsession]

SUMMARY: An abrasion on your hand makes a hero turn into a villain. With a man like him, there's no other way but to point fingers at people who have wronged you.

WORDS: 1,044

Matt was listening to you telling him about your day, mindlessly dragging your fingers across his bare chest, when he felt something odd about your hand or rather its skin: it was uncharacteristically coarse and he knew very well that it wasn't like that in the morning. Momentarily, his heart sunk and the evil engraved into his bones rattled awake. He grabbed your hand in a gentle yet decisive hold.

"Who did this to you?" Matt asked quietly. His voice was cold, somehow very distant despite the lack of space between your faces - like the tide that draws back before a tsunami.

"It's nothing, rea...-"

"Tell me," he interrupted you. Matt's voice was shaky in the same way ground trembles at the beginning of an earthquake; it was difficult for him to stay calm and collected. "Who did this to you?"

A sigh unconsciously slipped past your lips. It was foolish of you to ever think you were able to deflect his worry and anger. Despite knowing that he only wanted what was best for you, you still found it difficult to simply point fingers but that was a flaw he was able to fix.

Reluctantly, you recollected the events of the morning:

"Some guy was running from the cops and he pushed me to make way for himself. Honestly, it's nothing much. It doesn't even hurt anymore."

Anymore?

For a moment, Matt's mind was hazy, filled only with the storm of blood rushing inside his head. Someone dared to treat you as a literal push-over and all you were concerned about was the fact that it didn't hurt anymore. His skin began to burn, a tingle run through his fingers.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

A car was passing by the building, the light from its headlights crawled through the dirty windows and lit up your face for a moment. During those few seconds, when your face was bright enough to be seen in the darkness of the night, it seemed as if the whole world was asking you why you would lie to the man that loved you more than anyone ever could. The guilt further gnawed on your heart. Although he couldn't see it, Matt knew perfectly well that you were biting the inner part of your lip - the longish pause told him so.

"Matt, love, you have so much going on already, I wasn't about to add more to it," you spoke softly while running the back of your hand against his face.

It angered him to hear the affectionate nickname - how could he ever be eligible for your love if he wasn't the one suffering your pains? He must have been a truly awful human to greedily accept your heart without fulfilling his duty.

"You have to tell me when you're hurt." Somehow, he managed to partially swallow his growing disdain for the unnamed culprit to give you the tenderness you deserved. Yes, he couldn't let his own anger leave a mark on your ethereal grace. "I just want to take care of you." He gently kissed the coarse scab on the side of your hand, feeling the hateful bile rise to his mouth once again when his lips brushed against the wound.

Matt didn't sleep that night - the angels of vengeance didn't let him. Inside his head, between angered screams and insults, he was playing out various scenarios regarding the demise of the lowlife that dared to lay their hand on you.

He was going to start his day by paying a visit to the police station.

"I'm sorry!" the man cried out. His swollen eyelids could barely remain open. Along with his words, blood and saliva left his mouth. Sharp inhales elicited wheezes as cold air flew through his broken nose. "I don't know what I've done but I'm sorry! I'll be a better man! Please just... Just don't kill me."

"You don't know?" Matt repeated slowly as though he couldn't believe in the words he had just heard. The bile of disdain foamed at his mouth and for a moment it felt as if his humanity reluctantly looked away in fear or shame. "You hurt someone you don't deserve to even look at."

Staring at that bloody, hardly recognizable face, he found himself reminiscing about the Beatitudes as if Heaven's angels themselves reminded him of his holy duty:

"6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled."

And who else could he be than the beacon of justice? To punish the wicked sinners that dared to taint your grace? He might be just a hand that bears the sword but angels, too, were primarily warriors.

"Do you believe in God?" he whispered to the trembling, barely conscious man. The criminal needed a few seconds to fully comprehend the sentence he had just heard, struggling to form coherent sentences in his current state.

"N-no, sir." The blood filling his mouth, and a few teeth too perhaps, made the short sentence slurred. It could well be due to the dislocated jaw.

"Then it's high time you do."

A panicked scream tore through the nighttime traffic of New York City. Appearing like Lucifer falling out of his home, the man flew helplessly towards the ground. With the sound of bones cracking upon contact with dirty concrete, Matt's heart eased slightly: maybe the mutt's wrongs hadn't been made right but he wasn't going to hurt you again. The man's pathetic whimpers were music to Matt's ears.

He was excellent at sneaking in and so you didn't stir awake when he slipped under the covers. Matt carefully wrapped his arm around you and pulled your body closer to his. Maybe if he held you tight enough, no malice of this rotten and undeserving world could ever reach you again. When he whispered those words in your ear, he was unsure who he was making the promise to - you, God or maybe himself?:

"I can keep you safe. I promise."

Whatever creatures lurked in the shadows, they trembled upon hearing those words, finally learning that they shared their world with something much scarier than their own teeth and claws - a man whose reign didn't end with the break of dawn.

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bubbarnes · 4 months

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“... so mr. barnes, are you still having nightmares?”

#mi bebito #this scene is too dark it bothers me a lot #bucky barnes #tfatws #marvel #sebastian stan #buckybarnesedit #tfatwsedit #marveledit #mcuedit #sebastianstanedit #sebstanedit #fysebastianstan #marvelcastedit #mcucastedit #mcu #mancandykings #gbbb

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juiche · 9 months

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I wanted to draw the winter soldier for years but never dared to, I thought I’d definitely mess it up. Late to the party as always, but I finally dared to do it 😊

This one is based on a photo that Sebastian Stan took by chance prior to the Civil War film, having no idea what’s about to come :> I thought it’s wonderfully angsty 😌💅

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buckys-wintersoldier · 1 month

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“Don’t you love me?” | Bucky Barnes

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Soft!Dark!Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> Bucky asks you for play with your pussy a little longer because he just loves it.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 568

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> 18+, Minors DNI, smut, using of a toy, overstimulation, manipulation

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 -> Gimme soft!dark!bucky + sex toys please, I need my man as I build my drawers❤️ @imtryingbuck

𝐀/𝐍 -> Filthy, Soft!Dark!Bucky for you, bestie. Hope you enjoy. And Enzo could build the drawers with you together.😂❤️

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Give me one more, doll. I know you can do it.”

You shake your head, sweat running down the sides of your head. Your body is shaking, and you're overstimulated. Only whimpers and broken moans are leaving your lips while the toy he holds tightly in his hand is pressed against your clit. His other hand, grabbing your waist, is holding you in place. Bucky sits on his knees between your legs, smirking at you, while he looks from your pussy into your eyes and back at your pussy.

“Don’t you love me? Would you love me then you would come for me again.”

Bucky removes the toy from your clit and you take a shaky breath. His blue eyes roam over your body until he reaches your face. He pouts and looks so disappointed that you don’t love him. Or at least not as much as he loves you because you don’t want to come again for him. Not even when it’s what he loves so much to see your eyes roll back and your slightly parted lips. The way you grip the sheets or his arm when your walls clench violently, he adores your red cheeks, and the way you scream his name while moans leave your lips. But don’t you love him enough to do what he is asking for - just one more orgasm this night.

“Bucky, please. Don’t look at me like that.”

“But you don’t love me.”

“I-I do love you. B-but-“

“Then let me make you come once again,” he says, pleading with the way he looks at you.

You shake your head, tears filling your eyes. You love Bucky, you really do, but your pussy is so sensitive already. You don’t know if you could handle another orgasm just yet.

“Please, doll.”

Bucky will make you come if you say yes or no. But he will be gentle when you give him permission to make you come once again. He isn’t someone who asks, and especially not someone who says 'please', but with you, he is a softie sometimes. Seeing the way your eyes light up when he is all soft and lovely to you warms his heart. But in bed, he still prefers to be in control, making sure you know who you belong to. He leans closer, kissing your tears away, then he kisses along your jawline. His eyes are still focused on yours while he waits for you to answer his question. And you do when you nod your head softly, giving him permission to make you come once again.

“That’s my good girl. So pretty! I love when you come for me. Then we can take a nice, warm bath. I will take good care of you and of my pretty pussy, doll.”

He then smirks and places the toy against your clit, turning it on and enjoying the way your back arches. Your fingers dig into the sheet, and your eyes roll back. The softest moans leave your lips; your pussy hurts, but the pleasure that is growing in your belly is way too good to make him stop playing with your clit.

"Please, c-can I come?” You ask, breathless, but he shakes your head.

“Let me enjoy my view a bit longer, doll. You’re doing so good for me. Such a good girl. I love you so much. Look at her; she is dripping; she needs my attention,” he says in awe and looks at your entrance, which is glistening from your arousal.

Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @nicoline1998enilocin @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77

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simplyholl · 4 months

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A Night With The Winter Soldier

Summary: You’re sent to be Hydra’s test subject for a new serum.

Pairing: F. Reader x Winter Soldier Bucky

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Dark Bucky. Non con. Oral. Unprotected sex.

See My Masterlist Here

A/N: I know I don’t usually write for Bucky, but this idea has been stuck in my head for a long time. I’m just tagging my regular tag list, if you’re not into dark fics, please skip! ❤️

Fucked. That’s what you were or at least what you were going to be. You shake your head as you cover your skimpy lingerie with the matching robe your mother gave to you.

Your father is the head scientist for Hydra. He had been working on this experiment for years. He had created a serum that would cause Super Soldiers to want to reproduce. The end result would be a perfect Super Soldier baby. He finally perfected it. Who could be a better test subject than his daughter?

You begged him. You pleaded and cried. It was unfair to expect this of you. But he didn’t care how you felt. He said it was your duty to do as you were told. You didn’t want to make Hydra upset with your family, did you? You knew the horrors that awaited you if you refused. Your best friend, Lilly and her whole family disappeared three years ago when her father refused a command from Hydra. They were brutal and cruel. Sadly, you were used to it.

Hydra came first. Before yourself, before your family, your loyalty had to be unwavering. You knew it wasn’t really your father who had suggested it be you. Your mother told you it was one of the higher ups. He had seen you in your new sundress a few weeks ago and thought you would be perfect to carry the first Super Soldier baby.

It made you sick. How could they do this? You didn’t want to know what would happen if you refused. “At least, he is the strongest Super Soldier. This baby’s genes will be impeccable with the both of you for parents.” Your mother reassured you, as if it would help you feel better.

You weren’t naive. You and the baby would be monitored from the moment you got pregnant. As soon as you gave birth, the child would be ripped from your arms and watched closely. It wouldn’t really be yours.

You take the elevator to the thirteenth floor, heart racing wildly. You were scared. You had seen the Super Soldiers behind glass doors where you were protected from them. Now, you were being offered on a silver platter to the biggest baddest one, like a worm on a hook waiting for a fish to jump after them.

Two guards stand outside the door to the windowless room. Their eyes roam over your barely covered body. They smirk at you as they type in the code to let you in. “Good luck, princess. You’re going to need it.” They evilly laugh as the door opens. Slowly, you walk in, your breath catching in your throat as you hear the steel door bang tightly shut behind you.

The room is dimly lit. A leather chair in one corner, a bed pressed against the wall, there’s a table with a half worked puzzle on it. It was so dreary, your heart aches for the poor guy that called this room home. You walk over to the table, running your hand over the puzzle. That’s when you feel it. Even though you couldn’t see him, you’re not alone. He’s in here with you, hid in the dark corners somewhere. You turn around to find him staring at you.

The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, you had demanded to know his name before you did this. His dark hair hung in waves by his cheeks, his cold blue eyes focused on your body. He was beautiful. You weren’t used to seeing him without the black mask he usually wore. He was shirtless, his silver, metal arm catching your attention. You studied it. The way it looks like it was forcefully put on, the red star on his shoulder. He was always silent, brooding in the shadows. You had never been this close to him.

You reach for his face, wanting to feel him before all this started. His metal arm stops you, cold hand wrapping around your wrist. You squeak when he twists your arm behind your back, walking you toward the table.

He presses you against it, you feel his erection threatening to burst out of his black pants. One swipe of his free hand knocks the puzzle to the floor. Colorful pieces scatter all around you. He lifts you on top of the table, the cold surface making you gasp when your bare legs land on it.

Bucky holds you with his metal arm, the other one makes quick work of your flimsy robe. He grabs your breast through the thin fabric of your lingerie. You squirm under his touch as he pinches your nipple through the lace.

“You don’t know how bad I need this. Been a long time since I’ve had a pretty girl like you in my bed.” You’re shocked when he speaks to you. You had been warned that he wouldn’t talk to you at all. He takes a step back to look at you, zeroing in on your panties.

He pushes your back to the wall, commanding you to stay there. You obey, you didn’t want to upset him and make this worse for yourself. He holds your top in one hand, jerking the material. The sound of it’s ripping, startling you. He was crazy strong. The thought of being manhandled by him sounded better by the second.

Next was your panties, he stripped you of them quickly, pulling you by your legs to the edge of the table. He got on his knees before you, shoving his face to your core. He licks one fat stripe up your center, moaning as he tastes you. He swirls his tongue across your clit, you buck your hips up to get closer.

Bucky pushes you down with his metal arm, ensuring that you wouldn’t be able to move. You accept your fate, laying back as he laps at you. He fucks you with his tongue, his nose rubbing expertly against your sensitive nub. The band tightly wound in your stomach snaps as he drags his wicked tongue across your clit, sucking you between his lips. He doesn’t hold back his moans as your arousal floods his face.

When he emerges, his face is glistening because of you. He wipes it off with the back of his flesh hand. Bucky jerks you off the table, pointing to the cold, cement ground. “On your knees.” You sink down in front of him as he sheds his pants. You’re surprised he hadn’t already taken them off.

You shift on your knees, trying to get comfortable. He could at least offer you a pillow to kneel on or something. You look around, and spot the only one on his bed. You’re about to ask for it, when he pulls your hair roughly, jerking your head toward his throbbing cock. It was huge. The kind of big that would hurt. You open your mouth, trying to take all of him inside.

You choke and gag, spit dribbling down your chin onto your breasts as you struggle. He looks down at you, hand still tangled in your hair. Your jaw aches already and he’s just getting started. He thrusts his hips forward, pushing your head down simultaneously. Tears fill your eyes as he hits the back of your throat. You can’t help the sob that escapes you as he pulls out, only to forcefully push his way back in.

His thumbs follow the tears on your cheeks, your mascara pooling under your eyes making you look like a raccoon. “You look so pretty when you cry.” He coos, while looking at you adoringly. He thrusts three more times, your nails dig into his thighs, a silent plea to stop. He finally pulls out, collecting you from the floor and gently placing you on his bed.

He places one leg over his shoulder, lining himself up at your entrance. He pushes inside and it’s too much. “It’s- you’re too big.” You explain. Bucky moves your other leg, spreading you wider. “You’re gonna take all of it.” He grunts, wedging himself inside you, bottoming out with one thrust. He ignores your pained scream, leaning down to lick your fresh tears.

“So tight. So perfect. Just for me.” He praises in your ear. Finally, the pain subsides. Bucky feels incredible, his thick cock dragging against the spot that makes your head swim. A gush of arousal soaks him as he swirls his metal thumb in circles on your clit.

“Look at you, such a good girl, dripping all over my cock.” You moan, clenching around him, your long nails clawing his back, drawing blood as your second orgasm rips through you. His thrusts grow sloppy as you feel him go still inside you. His hot cum, drips down your legs as he withdraws himself from you.

Bucky swipes it with his index finger, rubbing it with his thumb. He brings it to your lips, you swirl your tongue around his long digit, loving the way he tastes. You’re caught off guard when his icy, metal hand collects as much cum as he can, stuffing it back inside you.

You twitch, trying to pull away from the cold hand on your heat. “Ah ah ah.” He scolds. He presses his cool thumb to your clit, toying with the oversensitive pearl. “You have to take every drop.” When he’s satisfied with his work, he makes you lay on your back so it doesn’t drip back out.

You close your eyes, the sweet promise of sleep taking over you. You are almost in dream land when you feel the familiar nudge of Bucky’s cock at your sore center. “What are you doing?” You ask, too tired to fight him. “I’m not finished with you yet, doll.” He smiles wickedly, snapping his hips to fill you again.

Tags

@lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @wheredafandomat @freegardenbanananeck @lokidokieokie @l0ki3000 @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lamentis-10 @loz-3 @litaloni @lulubelle814 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @avengersfan25 @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @mybugabomlb @bunny24sstuff @luthien-elvenia-asher @gruftiela @asgards-princess-of-mischief @weirdothatwritess

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bluelaidlyworm · 5 months

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Burdened with Glorious Purpose.

"I know what kind of god I want to be."

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shambelle97 · 5 months

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GOODBYE, MOTHER - LOKI FAN COMIC (2023)

He deserves to say goodbye. 💚

Art by: raychelwho

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hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch · 8 months

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Y/n: Please let me go! I won’t tell anyone!

Wanda: Will you shut up?! My kids are sleeping

Y/n:

Wanda: What?

Y/n: You’re a milf?

Wanda: I’m a mother yes

Y/n: No no no a milf, mother I’d like to fu-

Wanda: Wait I’ve just kidnapped you and you’re hitting on me?

Y/n: I mean attraction is a strange thing, but that’s so cool you find the time to do things around children, well done and yeah you’re pretty hot but if you don’t like women like that I don’t mind

Wanda sighing: I don’t think I can kill you now

Y/n: Cool. You need a babysitter?

#marvel #wanda maximoff #mcu #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel imagine #marvel au #wanda maximommy #dark wanda maximoff

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giorno-plays-piano · 9 months

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Hold On To Me

Pairing: mob!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: home intrusion, hostage situation, noncon, Stockholm Syndrome, smut.

Words: 3.9k

Summary: Swallowing a lump in your throat, you grow silent, anxiously watching the guy smile at you. He's that type every girl would be eyeing in the club, looking for an excuse to talk to him, to attract his attention, and then, very likely, to get him into bed. Steve seems popular, the I-will-eat-your-heart-like-cereals type, but you can say he isn't. Something in his eyes betrays his nature.

P.S. I rewatched The Hostage again (when I did it for the first time, this was the result), and here we are.

____________

Staring at a little black Ikea table as if your life depends on it, you sit, your body aching from being in one position for too long, but you can't move. He's watching you. It seems he doesn't even blink, his eyes on you since the moment he pushed you into your room and locked the door behind him. He's so close you can hear him breathing.

You know this look. You're not that young and innocent to be unable to recognize interest in man's eyes. It both scares and - unfortunately - makes you a little flushed, and you berate yourself for the latter because this isn't the right way to react to a man who broke into your house and took your family hostage. God knows what's happening to your stepfather right now: the man wouldn't be able to protect himself even if he was inside a tank, and his enemy attacked him with a plastic knife. You're as much worried about your little brother. He was always a bit of a brat, but the second you realized he was in danger, you felt so overprotective over him you covered his body with yours like you were a shield.

Your brother is in his room now, being watched by the youngest guy in the gang, the one who looked the most reluctant when their leader decided to take hostages. Your brother must be safe. The other kid won't hurt him, you don't think.

You, on the other hand, are stuck with Steve. From the moment you saw him move and heard him talk, you realized he was running the show behind the curtains. He's dangerous. The third guy, the one who claims to be the leader, is impulsive, angry, shouting and kicking things, sweating like a sinner in church because of the police cars surrounding the house, but Steve is calm and collected. He smiles with his perfectly white teeth and talks to the boys as if he's relaxing in a bar after work, not in the middle of armed robbery.

He's really, really pretty. Steve has perfectly blond hair and proper facial features like a slightly chiseled jaw, full lips, and that sort of blue eyes that make girls swoon over him the moment they see him. He's perfectly tall, well-built, with wide shoulders and strong, muscular arms and legs: he look like he belongs in those Armani commercials or, perhaps, on the catwalk, but not with the kind of guys your mother warned you about. How did he end up on the darkside? What made him so good at using a gun? He didn't fire it even once yet, but you see it from the way he handles it he knows too well what to do with it. It makes you anxious, thinking that he might point his gun at you and then pull the trigger.

Except he won't. Or, it's rather unlikely. Not when he looks at you like this, always moving so close to you he steals a touch whenever he can as if he is unable to help himself. Besides, Steve is kind to you: he gave you water when you asked and loosened the rope tied too tightly around your wrists; he brought you a pillow so you could rest against it, not the cold wall, and shushed you gently when you cried, saying he wouldn't let anything happen to you or your little brother. You don't know how much of his promises are true, but you think him unlikely to harm a child. He doesn't seem the type.

Your poor little boy. He's only a kid, all alone in his room, forced to face one of his kidnappers as he waits for the police to finally make a move. Since you don't hear him crying - your room is just below his - you think he does his absolute best to hold on, to keep calm and not irritate his unwilling jailer even though he's frightened to death. He doesn't deserve to be caught up in this mess. If only they agreed to let him go... Not that anyone would listen to your pleas, though. He's a valuable hostage, just like you. As long as the gang has you, police won't make a move, you're pretty sure.

But maybe you can still help your brother. Ease his worry a little, give him a bit of hope. That is, if you play your cards right and press the right buttons of your handsome, terrifying warden.

"May I bring some food to my brother, please?" You whisper, gathering all your courage to turn your head to face Steve, look him straight in the eyes. "He must be so hungry."

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you grow silent, anxiously watching the guy smile at you. He's that type every girl would be eyeing in the club, looking for an excuse to talk to him, to attract his attention, and then, very likely, to get him into bed. Steve seems popular, the I-will-eat-your-heart-like-cereals type, but you can say he isn't. Something in his eyes betrays his nature.

He's not a guy winning girls over with his looks. Steve is a deviant, an outcast. His face can't buy him what he wants, and that's why he's here, in your house, holding your family hostage.

Maybe, just maybe, you can use it to your advantage.

"Can you do me a favor, please?" Your whisper is barely audible. "Can you take me to my brother so I could feed him? If you want, you can tie my legs so I won't run."

Not that you would, anyway. You know perfectly well you can't outrun this guy even if your life depends on it, literally. Overpowering him is even more unlikely unless his muscles are just cotton stuffed in his clothes, which is a ridiculous suggestion.

His eyes light up at the word favor. "Happy to oblige," he muses, and your heart starts beating wildly before he continues, "but how will you return my favor?"

You are puzzled. You haven't thought this far. Dumbly, you thought he'd just say yes. It's a small favor, really. He knew you wouldn't give him any trouble, so it was just quickly checking up on your scared to death brother. Why would he want something from you in return when you couldn't as much as move without his permission?

But of course, he would.

"Anything," you blurt out hurriedly as if the words burn your tongue before you realize what you are actually saying.

Steve laughs with delight, his features softening.

"You should work on your negotiation skills," he declares with a wide smile as you tremble, understanding what you just offered. "You shouldn't give up your everything because people will take anything there is to take. Choose just one thing at a time, and choose carefully."

Suddenly, he gets close, and you immediately avert your eyes to the floor, unable to keep his gaze, trembling.

He nuzzles your cheek affectionately as his knife works through the rope around your wrists, and you pray he isn't going to stab you because you really know nothing and all judgements you made of him might be false. "But I'll be nice and choose just one thing for you. You'll feed your brother, and then I'll feed you, alright?"

You blink, your eyes on your warden again. Feed you? He wants to give you food?

Okay, it sounds strange. But who cares when you can finally see your brother? You'd say yes even if he proposed something improper because what else can you do? Steve has a gun, and even without it, you feel like he's a very dangerous person to oppose to.

So you say yes, and he takes your hand in his - so you won't be nervous, he says, but you know he wants to remind you who's in control - and then you two march to the kitchen in awkward silence where you grab whatever you can find. A cheeseburger from that little family café your family goes to every weekend, a pack of yogurt, a toast, a bottle of water... Steve even helps you to carry it all.

When he opens the door to your brother's room, you forget how to breathe for a second. The little boy is safe, sitting on his bed with his hands already untied, his eyes red from all the crying, and you rush to him, forgetting there's another man in the room. Or, well, a boy, because he's surely younger than you, perhaps still at school. His eyes are suspiciously red, too, as if he's scared and doesn't want anything but leave this place for good. For a moment you think it'd be better if he was guarding you, too, because then, perhaps, he'd agree to let you go if you helped him run away from the house without police catching him, and then things would be so much easier.

But the boy leaves in a hurry when Steve enters, and you remember who's a true ringleader. You can never escape on your own.

Your brother cries when you hug him, his little hands wrapped around you as he sniffle, and you rock back and forth to calm him down, whispering words of comfort, like everything's going to be alright even if you don't know where your stepdad is and what Steve is going to do to you if police doesn't do what he demands them to. You tell your brother he needs to eat because it's dinner time, and he nods, suddenly a well-behaved boy he'd never been, and takes a cheeseburger. You don't leave until he eats everything even if it's probably too much for a kid his size, but he says nothing, and you want him to be completely full: who knows when he'll eat again.

Then you give him a hug. It'll be fine, you say, and he does his best not to cry. Just do what they say, be a good boy, and everything's gonna be alright.

Steve smiles at the child when your brother doesn't want to let you go. "Listen to your sister," he says in a tone as if he's playing the role of a big brother, "and things will be fine. She'll be safe, too."

You don't think you'll be safe, not with someone like Steve, but perhaps your brother will be because his jailer is a kind kid, and he isn't cut out for violence. It's enough for you, even if your hair stands on end when Steve gently nudges you into your room, locking the door behind himself again. Once you two are completely alone, you start to panic, your breathing growing uneven, your hands shaking. What will he do to you? Will he rape you? Torture you? Kill you? If you could think rationally, you'd realize at least the last two are unlikely to happen, but you're a hostage, and he has the power to do any of these things. Even if you're unbound, you're helpless against him, a man so big and strong he'd overpower you in a matter of seconds.

So you don't try anything. You go sit down on the floor near your bed with a pillow resting between your back and the wall and then stretch out your arms for Steve to bind them again. He doesn't.

"You've been a good girl so far," he muses, sitting down in front of you, and then you see a couple of fruits in his hands that you somehow missed completely. "Now, let me feed you."

You still when he takes out his knife and peels a big red apple in a single strip before cutting it into even pieces. When he brings one close to you, you try to take it from his hands, but he tuts, tilting his head. "Open your mouth," he says simply instead, and your face grows hot.

Of course, there was a catch. There always is with guys like him.

But you say nothing and do as he says, and then he carefully pushes a piece of apple into your mouth. It's delicious, juicy, just your favorite sort of apples. You try to concentrate on the taste, not Steve's delighted expression when he watches you eat. Soon, he pushes one more piece past your lips, and then one more, and one more until there's nothing left of the apple. He's nowhere near finished, of course, because then starts to peel an orange. It's messier than the apple, but Steve doesn't seem to mind when he brings a slice close to your lips and lets you swallow it. His smile grows wider the closer you are to finishing the orange.

When you're finally done, your mouth full of acidic flavor, he suddenly clicks his tongue.

"My hand is all dirty from orange's juice," he says, eyeing you when you finally register what it is he asks you to do.

You bite down on your lips, eyes round as he brings his hand to your mouth.

"Lick it," he whispers so close to your face you can feel his breath on your skin.

You want to say no, to tell him he's out of his mind, but you don't. He's been kind to you so far, and it'd be stupid to provoke him. Even if he won't stop at this... maybe he'll stay kind, anyway. It's better than having him put a gun against your forehead for refusing to do what he says.

You open your mouth, taking his fingers in one at a time. They taste almost the same as the orange, sticky with juice, and you do your best to lick them clean, making shameless little noises when you suck at them. Steve doesn't seem to mind. On the contrary, he looks at you with a delightful expression on his face, like he's happy you're so good at whatever he asks you to do. He slips finger after finger inside your warm, wet mouth, playing with your tongue, smearing juice and saliva against it as he laughs with joy.

When you're done, he kisses you, sharing the sour taste of the fruit.

You knew it would come to this. It's no surprise, really, with the way he looks at you. But you still tremble and wish for all of it to end when Steve licks your tongue, sucking it into his mouth.

"Open your legs, baby," he commands in a sweet voice, and you shudder but do as he says anyway, and his lips part in a smile. "Yeah, like that."

His hand is already between your thighs, cupping your pussy through the clothes, and you freeze, blood pounding in your ears. It feels surreal, being in this situation, in the hands of someone who might make you cum or shoot you in the head instead. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, but your body is petrified, limbs turning to stone, your tongue heavy when you whisper. "Please, don't hurt me."

It's a plea, a cry, and tears slip down your cheeks as you look him in the face, his eyes dark and perceptive. Then, all of a sudden, he softens. "You're safe with me," he promises, his breath warming your face as his hand lands on your head, stroking you gently like a little girl, and you feel like you're going to cry from the intimacy of his touch. "You'll always be safe with me."

His other hand is already in your jeans, caressing you through the silk fabric of your panties, but as he pats your head, taking your hair away from your face, you lean into him, seeking any comfort he's willing to give. Steve purrs, landing a kiss to your brow, his fingers slowly spreading your gentle folds as you shudder. "Good girl."

You let out a shaky sigh as he circles your clit: surprisingly, he doesn't start pumping his fingers in and out like most guys do, too eager to have their dick inside. No, Steve just draws more sighs from you, makes you meek and pliant and wet as his fingers work your clit just the right way, and you squirm into the fabric of his t-shirt as he caresses the back of your head, pressing you into his chest.

It almost doesn't feel like he's forcing himself on you. It feels like... like he comforts you. As if he wants you to feel good, to be fine with him doing it to you.

"I'm... I'm-"

Your knees tremble as you sense the orgasm coming too soon, snuggling against your captor as his hand closes against your shoulders, his fingers working your clit even faster, circling, pinching, pressing on it like a button, making you squeeze your eyes shut. The coil tightens in your belly and, then, then... you become undone. Disintegrate in Steve's hands when he praises you tenderly for being good to him, kisses your cheeks wet from tears, and craddle you to his chest like a baby. He's painfully hard, you can feel it through his jeans when you lean onto him, but Steve doesn't seem in a hurry for his own release. He waits till your orgasm makes you all too soft and takes your face in his hand, giving you a deep kiss, his tongue coiling around yours.

You barely recognize when he lifts you up, feeling too comfortable and warm, pressed to him like that, but then you feel cool bedsheets behind your back, and then you're scared again.

Steve coes tenderly, giving you a peck on the lips, "Do you want to ride me, baby? Or do you want me to take you on your back, like a princess?"

The way he phrases it makes warmth creep into your cheeks, and you avert your eyes, mumbling, "On my back, please."

It doesn't even register that he forces himself on you right this minute. It feels like... something else. Something not so scary, not so violent. Something... tender.

"Like a princess, then," your captor smiles, hands trailing your jeans as he carefully slides them down, taking them away, living you half naked. "Alright. You'll be my princess."

Your face feels disturbingly hot when he says it, his hands on you as he tugs the fabric of your blouse up, lowering his head to drop a few kisses to your tummy, murmuring something you don't quite catch, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, you are completely naked in front of him, and you'd feel ashamed if he wouldn't caress your head again like you're a little girl, eager for his praise.

He gives you a kiss before inching away, taking his t-shirt off ever so slowly to give you a good look at his undoubtedly perfect body. But you don't look at his muscled arms or wide chest. Your eyes are trailing his scars, so many scars of different shapes and sizes that cover his skin. Many of them are long, undoubtedly deep, as if someone... as if someone stabbed Steve with a knife.

Your eyes water. Even if it's you who's a victim, a hostage, you feel a sharp sense of guilt as if it were you who hurt him.

He blinkes, a little surprised, perhaps, but you can see there's someone else in his eyes. Something like shame. Like self-loathing.

"A princess' knight is supposed to have a few scars here and there, right?" He gives a quiet laugh, getting down again to cage you with his body, but he freezes when your warm hand lands on a long, ugly line on his side, between the ribs. It is long healed, but the touch makes him stop, nonetheless.

You look him into the eyes, and your face is tight with worry. "I'm sorry," you whisper like it's your fault, your palm warming his skin, and Steve becomes alive again under your touch, his lips partying in a smile once more.

His hand caresses your nipple, pinching it between two fingers as he draws a breath from you, watching you intently, his hard, leaking cock heavy on your tummy. Then, suddenly remembering something, he bends over to grab something from his jeans, and you realize he's putting on a condom. You sigh in relief, and he catches that.

"Anything for a princess," he grins, sliding his hand over your thigh, and you still beneath him when he positions himself at your entrance.

You're scared. That moment you're back into your room, with a man who can shoot you hovering above you like a monster eager to eat you alive, and you forget how to breathe. You're not a princess in the care of your faithful knight. You're a hostage, and your captor can do anything he wants with you.

Steve feels the change in you in a moment, and he stops, his hand back to the top of your head. Even though you can feel how painfully hard he is, he waits, caressing you like a little girl, smiling to you, tenderly brushing your hair away from your face, repeating you'll always be safe with him. And then you're a princess again, and he's your knight.

He pushes into you, and you bit down on your lip, trying to relax: he's not monstrous, but Steve is still a bit too big for you to take him comfortably. Thankfully, he doesn't split you on his cock, giving you time to adjust, and with every moment the subtle pain grows weaker before it finally lets go, and you nudge your warden gently, your hands gripping his shoulder and your face in the crook of his neck. It doesn't hurt anymore. It almost feels good to be so full of him, to know what it's like to have him inside of you.

Steve says it's hard not to cum when you clamp down on him so much, gripping him like a vice. Pleasure softens his features, and you brush a strand of blond hair away from his face before you even register what you do. He does, though, and he likes it. He finally starts to move.

Sweat drips down your bodies when Steve keeps slamming inside of you, making all sorts of soft noises while you pant and choke beneath him, snuggling against his form, your legs wrapped around him tightly. His cock is pressing against every right spot of yours, making you forget who he is and what he does to you. You're his princess, his good girl, he repeats over and over again, and you feel safe in his embrace, inhaling his scent, taking his cock till its head presses into your cervix, leaving a pleasant ache and making you whine. It feels good to be in his care when he rolls to the side and presses your head to his chest, his other hand lifting your leg to reach a different angle, and you kiss his jaw, his neck, making it even harder to hold on, he says.

When he cums, you're already far too gone. The pleasure is too intense, and for a couple of minutes you say nothing to each other, panting, his hands still on the back of your head as he caresses you absent-mindedly, your bed a mess of damp and crinkled sheets. You wish to stop thinking. To forget everything. Just being here, being safe, is enough for now.

Until he speaks again.

"You'll come with me," he whispers feverishly, his hot palm on your cheek, almost burning you. "I'll take you away, and we'll go on a big adventure together, princess. With dragons, swords, and gold."

You're quiet against him, staring into his chest as he caresses your head.

You're not a princess. You're a prey.

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne @helenaeisenhower @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @rosalynshields @lookiamtrying @soleil-dor @cosicas-cuquis @buckybarnesplumwhore @lux-ravenwolf @stupendouslovegardener @what-is-your-wish @eralen @magnificantmermaid @typewritersworld @stcrrjoon @sweetxime @imrandomstuffsblog @gachawipes133

#dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #yandere #captain america #mcu fanfiction

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lizziesribbons · 1 month

Text

*y/n and Wanda just sitting at a couch watching movies*

y/n suddenly screams: OMG

Wanda panicking: WHAT WHAT THE FUCK DID SOMEONE DIE

y/n: NO I JUST REMEMBER YOU ARE HERE WITH ME FINALLY

wanda confused: yes my love I've been here with you since the last few hou- what do you mean?

y/n: ugh I feel so bad wasting those hours UGH *holds Wanda's face in both her hands*

Wanda: um

y/n: IM GONNA KISS YOU ALL OVER MY LITTLE TINY BABY AW LOOK AT YOU YOU'RE SO ADORABLE I COULD EAT MY BABYYYYYYY IM GONNA KISS YOU

*Wanda blushes crazily unable to speak*

*Natasha enters the room with a disgusted face*: you know y/n she's THE scarlet witch she's not a baby...

y/n eyes Natasha: shush go away *looks back at Wanda* my little baby *kisses her forhead as you cuddle her into you*

#incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect quotes #wanda maximoff #soft wanda maximoff #soft mommy wanda #natasha romanoff #mcu #marvel #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #lizzie olsen #elizabeth olsen x y/n #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut

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spider-stark · 18 days

Text

INFINITELY YOU

part two // crullers & constants

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 4.2k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker

Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place.

Or, rather, it was a sacred place—and walking back into the shop now felt awfully strange.

Back when you and Peter first started high school, it had become a tradition to end every Friday with one of the renowned pastry shop’s legendary frosted crullers. You considered it a well-deserved reward for surviving another week of more drama than either of you could stomach, thankful that the weekend was finally upon you and that you could finally breathe without inhaling the reek of the unwashed teenage boys that lined the halls of Midtown.

Peter Pan’s quickly became a haven. A safe place where the two of you could tuck yourselves away at the end of the bar, talking for hours about the teachers you hated and the bullies you hoped would fall from the face of the Earth. There was nothing that you couldn’t talk about, no secrets kept between you and Peter.

Or, at least, none that mattered.

But things changed as time passed, as they so often do.

It started with the inclusion of Ned. You didn’t particularly mind his presence, even if the conversations had begun to shift towards less intimate topics, focusing instead on movies that you all wanted to see or upcoming video games that you would all try to play.

Then came the inclusion of Mj a few months later, after she landed a job at the shop. That was when everything truly changed—when it was no longer you and Peter tucked away at the bar, but you and Ned, left to pick at your food and watch as Peter leaned across the front counter and talked to Mj over her shift.

After a few months of testing every donut on the menu with Ned, you stopped going altogether.

And Peter never even asked why.

“I was surprised to see you texted me,” you quip as you slid onto the free barstool, “what happened to not wanting me to get involved?”

Peter exhales sharply through his nose, and even though his eyes are glued to his phone, you can tell that he was already regretting asking you to meet him here. “I already told you that what I want doesn’t matter.”

And how true that must have been.

There had been nothing kind about his text to you this morning, although there was nothing inherently rude about it either, you supposed. It was simple—meet me at Peter Pan’s asap, need 2 talk—but you could almost sense the begrudging nature with which he had typed it. And, sitting next to him now, you could almost feel it, too.

He didn’t want you here, even if he had been the one to invite you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he had decided to involve you at all—especially so soon. What had changed in a single night?

Sitting on the barstool to your left, Parker pops his lips. “Well this is fun. I’m not at all uncomfortable right now.”

You turned towards him, acknowledging just how different he looked in the civilian clothes that he donned in place of his suit—black jeans that certainly looked worse for wear and an old Ramone’s t-shirt that you immediately recognized as yours. Oversized on you, the short sleeves clung rather tightly to his well-muscled arms. Did he seriously go through your stuff?!

“Why are you even here?” You ask, perhaps a little sharper than necessary. You weren’t angry that he had gone sifting through the armoire in the spare bedroom, especially since he couldn’t just parade around as Spider-Man all of the time. But he could’ve at least asked. “Shouldn’t one of you be busy patrolling?”

It was hard to tell if the offense on his face was real or feigned, but you didn’t care much either way. “Peter wanted answers about my world, I wanted food,” he shrugs, gesturing at the crème-filled donut in front of him. “And Peter 2’s handling patrol.”

Peter 2—you had almost forgotten about him, the version of Peter that hadn’t wanted to come with Ned and Mj to your apartment last night. As far as you could tell when you woke up this morning, he hadn’t shown up in the middle of the night, either—no trace of Parker or anyone else when you had finally stumbled out of your room to get ready after reading the text from Peter.

You didn’t figure it was really your business where the mystery Peter was, but you were a little surprised to hear that he was still out patrolling. Was he not exhausted?

“Ametaur move getting crème-filled,” you tell him, ignoring everything he said. “Should’ve gone with the frosted vanilla cruller, it’s way better.”

“No way,” he gapes, grabbing the half-eaten pastry and shaking it for emphasis as he said, “this is god-tier, alright? No way anything’s topping it.”

The expression on his face was actually hilarious, his brown doe eyes alight with pure euphoria as he took another bite of the donut. An exaggerated moan slipped his lips, coated with bits of sugar and crème. It was hard not to laugh at him, especially when you knew that was probably his goal—to combat the evident tension between you and Peter.

Chuckling, you lift your hands in mock defense. “Suit yourself, Parker. But if you ever wanna experience true pleasure, then you know what to order.”

Parker looks as if he's about to continue his borderline-lustful tangent about the donut, but Peter spoke up instead, his attention snagging on the name you used.

“Parker?” He echoes in disbelief, letting his phone clatter against the bar.

Peter’s sudden resurgence to the real world left Parker silent, sinking back against his stool and taking another bite.

“What?” Your brow arches, your voice laced with incredulity. “Did you really think I’d keep calling him Peter 2? No offense to Ned, but everything about that feels stupid.”

Peter’s eyes narrow, coupled with a subtle shake of his head that indicates he doesn't care nearly enough to have this conversation right now.

You didn’t care much either, and so you steered the conversation in a more productive direction. “So what is this grand plan of yours?” You ask with a somewhat sarcastic lilt. “And where do I fit into it?”

Another huff of breath escaped his nostrils. “We don’t even have a plan. Not yet,” he reluctantly admits. “But I tried talking to Doctor Strange last night, to see if he had some sort of magical spell or something that would let us go back and fix all of this.”

Your lips press together, nibbling on the skin and pretending you didn’t notice the hidden meaning behind his words. He hadn’t just gone to Doctor Strange to find a way to get rid of the villains now lurking in your world, because if he had, then he wouldn’t have gone specifically seeking out a spell that would let him go back—not just to stop the villains from ever coming here, but to save May, too.

“Did he?”

Peter reached for his cup of iced coffee, if only to occupy his now-fidgeting fingers. “No,” he murmurs, the sound of sloshing ice nearly overpowering him as he swirled the cup. “He didn’t.”

You frown at the tinge of disappointment that snuck through his otherwise even tone, your chest aching. You had to fight against the urge to say I’m sorry, remembering what he had said to you last night—he didn’t want your apologies, nor did he seem to want anyone else's.

In truth, you weren’t sure what Peter wanted; or what you could do to help him.

“Well did he have anything useful?”

He shook his head, lifting the cup to his mouth. “Define useful,” he scoffed, sounding uncharacteristically sharp. He took a sip of his drink, his nose scrunching as soon as the coffee hit his tongue—too bitter.

Despite the coffee’s pale color that indicated it was more cream than coffee, you weren’t surprised that it was still too strong for him. Peter had never truly developed a taste for coffee, only pursuing a caffeine addiction for the sake of combating the exhaustion that came with being Spider-Man. That didn’t mean he had ever grown to like it though, masking the taste with copious amounts of sugar and syrups.

“Something that will keep multiversal villains from tearing our world apart?” You venture half-heartedly, guided by pure instinct and muscle memory as you reached over to take his cup from him, snagging a few packs of sugar from the plastic canister on the bar to0.

“He has a theory,” Peter gives you a tight-lipped smile, born of pure frustration.

“A theory? And he expects us to save the world with this theory?” You ask, a bit more derisive than you would have been if Doctor Strange were around to hear.

Peter scoots closer to you, his voice purposefully low. “Do you remember when I told you about him using the Time Stone before Mr. Stark died? To look through all the different outcomes with Thanos?”

Ripping open the sugar packets and dumping them in his cup, you managed to mask a wince at the mention of Peter’s dead mentor. You only nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you tried for any sort of verbal affirmation.

“Well… when he did that, he thinks that he might have actually seen through the multiverse—he just didn’t know for sure at the time.”

Your forehead creased as you popped the lid back onto his cup, sliding it back towards him. Given his advantage of Spidey-sense, he easily caught it before it could slide too far and end up on the floor—which is what would have definitely happened pre-Spider bite.

“And you don’t consider that to be useful to our current situation?”

“No. I don’t.” Peter answers firmly. “Because at the center of it all—in every universe the Stone showed him—all he saw was you.”

You nearly laugh, your lips curving as you rose a brow at him. “Me?”

Peter gave a nod as he took another sip of his drink. This time, his nose didn’t scrunch.

“But it’s been almost a year since the Avengers took down Thanos,” you reminded him, your stunned amusement beginning to fade into confusion. “If he saw.. Me, when he used the Stone, then why didn’t he say anything until now?”

By no means would you consider yourself to be close with New York’s resident Sorcerer, and so you wouldn’t have expected him to come to you with this knowledge. But Peter—he knew Peter, and he knew that you were Peter’s best friend, and so it didn’t make any sense to you why Doctor Strange chose to wait until now to mention what the Stone had shown him.

Given the aggravated expression Peter wore, it was clear that he was thinking the same. “I don’t know, and trying to get answers out of Doctor Strange that he clearly doesn’t want to give is like pulling teeth.”

“But what does that mean?” You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing further, concern starting to bubble up inside of you. Regardless of his answer—if he had one—you had a feeling you wouldn’t like it. “I don’t get how I’m at the center of every universe.”

Peter blew out a breath, his fingers going back to tapping against the sides of his plastic cup. “Alright, so there are probably well-over a hundred thousand different parallel universes, okay? Some of them are probably super similar to ours, and then there are others that are the complete opposite.”

“O-kay,” you drone, your brows drawing together. You felt the start of a headache coming on as you prepared yourself for the confusing science-talk that was surely about to start pouring out of his mouth.

Perhaps noticing your pained expression, Peter tries to find a way to simplify whatever explanation he was about to use. “Try and look at it like this,” he started, “think of the multiverse as some giant, cosmic loom, alright? Now imagine that each thread on the loom signifies a person. As the loom weaves all of these different threads together, different decisions get made and different actions are taken—and with every choice, a new thread is spun, branching off and creating a variation of the original tapestry.”

“So it’s like you and Parker, right?” You interrupt him, rubbing at your temples. “Same thread, different reality?”

“Exactly! And, technically speaking, that’s how it’s supposed to be. As the loom weaves and alters reality, each thread continuously evolves into something different.” He paused, his fingers finally falling still. “But now imagine that—in the center of all of these branching tapestries—there exists one thread, entirely unbroken and unaltered by this ever-weaving tapestry of existence, okay? A glitch in the cosmic fabric, a constant that’s woven into infinite realities and yet, somehow, remains fundamentally unchanged. How does that work?”

You couldn’t ignore the sense of dread creeping up your spine, nor could you escape the slight wobble in your voice as you said, “It doesn’t sound like it should.”

“You’re right, it shouldn’t work.” Peter confirmed, his expression nearly impossible to read. “But according to Doctor Strange, you are that thread. A constant anomaly that defies every potential law of the multiverse.”

Nausea bubbled in your gut. God, you did not want to deal with this right now!

“And let me guess,” a bitter laugh follows your words, “that’s as much information as he was willing to give, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” Peter pops his lips, leaning back into his stool. His brows raise slightly in a silent I told you so before he says, “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to be involved, right? Now you’re at the center of everything-”

“I said I wanted to help you,” you correct him sharply. “Not that I wanted to be at the center of Doctor Strange’s weird Time Stones fantasies!”

He only shrugs, barely acknowledging the dirty look you gave him as he plucks his phone off of the counter, clicking on a notification. “Same thing, isn’t it? Either way, you get what you want.”

“What I want?” You echoed, your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“Doctor Strange seems to think that whatever is wrong with you might help us solve all of this. That you might be connected to the multiverse somehow, or that you’re at least immune to it. So yeah, you get what you want. You get to help,” he spat the word out like an insult, too focused on typing something to even notice how rude he sounded.

If it weren’t for the feeling that stomach acid was about to come crawling up your throat, then you might have taken some time to unpack the bitterness in his tone or be hurt by the claim that something was wrong with you—but you didn’t. Even if you had, you weren’t sure that it would have gotten you anywhere.

You weren’t stupid. Peter was wielding his insolence like a shield, purposefully trying to hurt you as an effort to keep you at arms length—and, if you had to guess, Mj and Ned were probably receiving the same treatment right now.

“Well this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to help,” you admitted, one hand going to rest against your cramping stomach. At least the throbbing in your temples had died down…

Peter only shrugged at you, shoving his phone in his back pocket and rising to his feet. “Too bad,” he told you, offering a smile that most definitely wasn’t genuine. “I’ve gotta go, but make him walk you home, alright? I’ll text you if I hear anything else from Doctor Strange.”

Parker frowned beside you, and whether it was because Peter was speaking about him like he wasn’t here or because of his attitude in general, you couldn’t tell.

“Whoa, hold up! You didn’t even tell me what your plan is until you hear from him!” You argue, reaching for his wrist to keep him from walking past you until he answered.

He pulls his hand back from your grip, but not before your stare snags on the reddish hue that stains his nails—blood. Noticing it only served to make you feel sicker, and to make your concern for Peter grow larger. Was he really still walking around with May’s blood caked under his nails? Has he rested at all since last night?

“Same plan as always,” he told you, your eyes snapping up to meet his, suddenly noticing how rimmed with exhaustion they were. “Stop the bad guys.”

He didn’t leave any time for protests or further questions before turning his back to you and heading straight for the exit. When the little bell on the door chimed as he shoved his way back out onto the streets, you couldn’t stop the worried sigh that escaped your lips.

Peter was an Avenger by every right. He had battled alongside a Norse God and helped take down a literal Titan, and so knew that you shouldn’t have any reason to doubt his capability when it came to taking down whatever villains had crossed into your world.

But it wasn’t that you doubted his ability to survive against them, or even his ability to stop them—you were worried about whether he could handle the weight of it all.

The weight of him placing yet another thing on his shoulders. Another villain, another fight, another burden, another chance to lose someone.

Thinking of that, it suddenly dawned on you that maybe Mj and Ned weren’t getting the same treatment as you. Maybe you were getting the worst of it, if only because now whatever connection you had to the multiverse was just another weight he thought he had to bear, another person he had to worry about protecting.

Guilt flooded your veins, and even as you tried to remind yourself that you hadn’t caused this, you still couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that it was somehow your fault anyway.

“Y’know, I get that this probably isn’t the right time for this,” Parker starts. When you look at him, your attention immediately snags on the dozen donuts that he had ordered while you were talking to Peter. “But I think it’s so cool that you guys have magic in your world!”

He takes another bite of the donut in his hand, powdered sugar falling from his lips as he says, “And these donuts! It’s a tough call, but they might be even better than magic!”

You didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if he was intentionally trying to lighten the mood or if it was just incidental, but it worked all the same. Laughter poured from your mouth, and it wasn’t until it died down that he said anything else.

“Sooo… That was tense, wasn’t it? Like, it wasn’t just me, right?”

You groan, propping your elbows against the counter and placing your cheeks in your palms. “Was it that noticeable?”

Parker snorts a laugh, stretching an arm past you to reach for Peter’s abandoned coffee. “Oh, yeah. It’s actually painful to be in a room with you two.”

His playful tone made it clear that it was just a joke, but it still made you feel bad. You already didn’t like how hostile things felt between you and Peter, even if it was only one-sided, and to know that others felt it too just made it that much worse.

“Things are just.. Difficult, right now.” You tell him, choosing your words carefully.

“So it hasn’t always been like that with you guys?” He asks, and the delicate arch of his brow made it seem as though he were shocked by the possibility that things had ever been civil between you and Peter.

There was a chance that you had misread his expression though, as it was very quickly wiped away once he took a sip of Peter’s half-drank coffee, gagging as soon as it hit his tongue. “Holy shi-” he started coughing, cutting off the vulgarities that threatened to spill out. “How does he drink this?!” Parker yelped as soon as he could take a full breath, looking utterly disgusted as he shoved the cup back across the bar. “It’s literally just liquid sugar!”

You found it hard to stifle your amusement at his suffering, even as he shot you a teasing scowl for it. “No,” you answer his previous question, trying to ignore his melodramatic display, “believe it or not, things between us actually used to be really… I don’t know—easy, I guess.”

Parker was still smacking his lips to try and rid himself of the cloying aftertaste. “What changed?”

In retrospect, you realized that it probably would have been smarter for you to bite your tongue. To offer him some cheap, cop-out excuse rather than tell him the truth. After all, you already had experience in hiding from the truth and it wasn’t like you really knew Parker, and so lying to him shouldn’t have been a hard task.

Yet, for some reason, you told him the truth anyway.

“Mj happened.”

Parker’s brows furrows. “The girl from last night, right?”

“Yep. That’s the one.”

“Y’know, I don’t really like her all that much,” his words were spoken like a balm, seeking to ease the dejected look etched upon your face, but tinged with enough playful sarcasm for you to know he didn’t actually mean them. “She threw a bread roll at me. A few of them, actually.”

It was hard not to laugh at the thought considering that it was such an Mj thing to do. “Sounds about right,” you crack a smile, although you don't feel particularly happy. “She’s always been slow to trust, especially complete strangers.”

In an odd sort of way, the statement felt like a lie. Not because it actually wasn’t true—because Mj was wary of strangers—but because Parker didn’t quite feel like a stranger in your mind. While last night had been a bit awkward, you now felt like talking to him was effortless, each sentence rolling off your tongue with unnatural ease.

“But she trusts you?” Parker asks, picking a crumb off another one of the pastries and popping it into his mouth.

You sucked in a breath.

“I don’t know,” you answer him, with a bit more honesty than you're comfortable with. “I mean, I know that she used to trust me. But now… I’m not even sure if she likes me anymore.”

His brow snapped up. “What changed?”

Suddenly the truth no longer felt so easy, and you found yourself wishing that you could change the subject altogether. You didn’t want to talk about this—especially not with him, some boy that you had known for less than twenty-four hours.

But you had backed yourself into a corner, and so in an effort to try and satiate whatever interest he had developed in the story you had told, you settled on offering a vague half-truth.

“She started dating Peter,” you tell him simply, putting effort into looking disinterested. “They got together a few months ago and things just… It just got weird, y’know? It’s always awkward when two of your friends get together, I guess. Creates too much drama.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Parker hums, agreeing with you. “Especially when you have feelings for him, right?”

An incomprehensible noise escaped your throat, best categorized as something between a laugh and a cough. Your mouth fell open to try and defend yourself, to try and deny his claim—but he didn’t even give you a chance.

“Oh c’mon!” Parker groans, grinning when he notices the now rosy complexion of your cheeks. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I mean, let’s be real here, alright? That whole sugar thing earlier?” He jutted a finger towards Peter’s abandoned iced coffee, “Was a dead giveaway.”

“You’re insane,” You declare, shaking your head and masking your embarrassment with uncomfortable laughter. “I don’t have feelings for Peter—and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter! Regardless of what it’s done to our friendship, Mj is literally perfect for him and-”

“I think it’s cute,” he interrupts, a delicate smile gracing his lips. Noticing the way your brows furrow, he elaborated, “How much you care about him. And how much you care about her, too, since you’re so willing to pretend like you don’t like him.”

“I’m not pretending-”

Parker jokingly cut his eyes. “Yeah, sureee.”

Blowing a frustrated breath, you push yourself up from the barstool. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.” You tell him, far too flustered to try and come up with a good defense to his teasing. “You can take the rest of your donuts to go, Bug-boy.”

There was a subtle shift in his demeanor as the taunting nickname fell from your lips, and he almost felt as though his heart had stopped dead in his chest.

“Fine,” Parker yields, rising to his feet and snagging the box of donuts from the bar. “But I really hope that you have your wallet—cause I definitely don’t have a way to pay for these.” He flashed a crooked smile before continuing, “Or we can just run really fast and hope they don’t call the police on us for stealing pastries.”

“I can’t imagine that robbery would be very good for your reputation as a hero,” you chide sarcastically, your own lips curling into a half-smile, “so I’ll pay—but only if you give me every cruller in that box. Deal?”

Parker spares a quick glance down at the dozen box of donuts in his hands. Half of them were already gone, but through the small cellophane window he could see that there were three frosted crullers left. “Deal.”

series masterlist

a/n - for those who read IY before the rewrite, you may already be able to note some rather major changes going on lmao. i genuinely can't describe how much i actually enjoy rewriting this story, as i'm finally able to collect my thoughts enough to write the plot the way i originally wanted to.

as always, please leave any feedback, opinions, etc.! any and all comments/reblogs definitely encourage me to write/edit faster! and, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

part three, titled "spitfire", to be released april 15th

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wandaslittlelove · 12 days

Text

Destined Part 3

Warnings: smut, fingering (r receiving), enchanted strap (r receiving), breeding, forced pregnancy

Series Masterlist

It had been about a week since Wanda brought me to this cabin. Within the week she had been playing nice. No yelling, no magic use, nothing. Just pure sweetness. I’m not sure what terrified me more. She had been cooking meals for me everyday, leaving small lingering kisses on my cheek, and allowing me to have free roam of the cabin. She even occasionally let me outside.

The small cabin was surrounded by trees that seemed to stretch for miles. On one side of the cabin there was a sheep pin and the other side was a small little Garden that she would tend to everyday around noon. I wasn’t allowed any further than the end of the sheep pin which was something she made very clear on the first day I was here.

Now though as I sat in the living room watching the tv that Wanda had turned on for me before she went back through the portal to her “castle” I could feel a feeling rise up into me that signified something wasn’t right.

I heard the angry footsteps before I saw her. They echoed throughout the house as she got closer. The closer she got the worse the feeling in my stomach become.

Soon I was face to face with a furious Wanda and before I could say anything she was gripping me by the hair and dragging me to the bedroom. I was forced onto the bed and quickly found my arms tied to the bed with her magic. She angrily mumbled something before flicking her wrist causing my clothes to disappear.

“Wanda? Wanda stop!” I begged as she began to remove her clothes as well. Although that only seemed to make her angrier as she gripped my throat tightly.

“Shut up slut. I have not had a good day. Now be good and let me use you”

Bringing one of her hands up she began to pinch and tug at my nipples. I could already feel my body reacting to the familiar touch as I arched up into her and tried to keep from moaning. I hate that my body still wanted her after everything. As she pulled on my nipples the anger on her face slowly started to disappear a little.

As I closed my eyes and allowed myself to relax a little I felt something rub up against my cunt. I opened my eyes quickly and looked down panicked only to be shushed by Wanda.

“Hush detka it’s okay. Mommy’s just going to fill you up with her strap okay. Just wanna feel you” I had heard that sentence multiple times. And by the wording I knew she had enchanted it. We had done it many times before with her always pulling out in fear I may actually get pregnant since neither of us really knew what her magic was capable of.

I gasped as I felt two of her fingers enter me before she started to curl and scissor them, stretching me out. Leaning down she kissed me softly before loosening her grip on my neck.

“Being such a good girl for me. Just gotta stretch you” she mumbled as my stomach began to tighten signaling my orgasm. She brought her thumb to rub my clit in quick circles and began to suck on my neck no doubt leaving hickeys behind. With a loud moan I came all over her fingers and felt her smile against me before pulling away.

As I regained my breath I was given no warning as she began to slowly enter me with the strap. Even being prepared I still struggled against my magical restraints as I felt my walls tighten around her. She let out a chocked moan before slamming into me fully. Her hands were on my hips as she breathed heavily with her eyes closed. Her lips were between her teeth and her grip on my waist tightened before she slowly pulled out only to roughly thrust back in and kept repeating it.

“God, you feel so good around me. So tight and warm. Never gonna get tired of being inside you” her thrusts grew rougher and faster as she felt my arousal leak around her as well as the remnants of my first orgasm. I couldn’t hold back the moans anymore they grew louder the closer I got.

As her thrust began to grow sloppy I could tell she was close. With a weak body I attempted to struggle against my restraints wanting to touch her.

“Mo- mommy please. Wanna touch you” she looks down at me and shakes her head.

“I can’t detka. Can’t- fuck can’t have you trying to push me away when I pump my cum into you. Strange wants to say my kids aren’t real I’ll fucking show him” slowly I became more conscious the closer she got to her orgasm. She was going to come inside of me and there was nothing I could do. I knew nothing I said would stop her and I was to powerless to push her off. And maybe a piece of me wanted this. Wanted to be hers and have a family with her.

Just the thought alone made me get closer and closer to my orgasm. And the tightening of my walls caused her to get closer as well.

“Cum with me princessa. Cum with mommy” with a loud cry of her name I came around her strap soaking it with my juices. Not even seconds later I felt her still and the warmth of her cum filling my womb. With a couple more small thrusts to make the cum go deeper she collapsed on top of me with a sigh.

After a few minutes she begins to pull out causing me to whine and she stops.

“My needy slut. I’ll stay in you for a little but then we have to clean you up and get you some water.” Moving around a bit she finally settled in with me laying on top of her strap still buried inside me and drops of her cum leaking out.

Tag List: @alexawynters @username23345 @casquinhaa @idontknow-llol @delulu-bayolet-era @dorabledewdroop @bananasplits-world

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buckys-wintersoldier · 1 month

Text

Workouts | Bucky Barnes

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Firefighter!Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> You can’t get enough of Bucky’s glistening body after a workout.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 886

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> 18+, Minors DNI, smut, sir kink (mentioned once), oral (male!receiving), deep throating, burning house (mention), sweaty Bucky, fluff

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 -> I keep on going back to that gif of Sebastian as Hal Carter (the way his abs and chest glisten from his sweat is mouthwatering) So kinda like a fluffy and smutty 🤭🤭 firefighter/Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes + Gym sex/Car sex (after the gym) (PS: Feel free to ignore this ask 😌😌) @amathslutsguidetofandom

𝐀/𝐍 -> HOW CAN I IGNORE THAT ASK!!!! This let me feel things I didn’t know I could feel like that. And congratulations you just unlocked a new kind of Bucky I can’t resist anymore: Firefighter!Bucky/Lumberjack!Bucky both are so hot. Feel free to sent a request with one of them. They are just so 🫠🫠 And thank you for the request I hope you like it. Divider made by @firefly-graphics.

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 -> Fandom-Free Bingo: Frosty Edtion | G5 | Firefighter AU | @fandom-free-bingo

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Sweat is running down his cheeks, slowly trailing down his neck, and all over his high-defined abs. Your boyfriend is just doing his workout for the day. You're sitting on the bench next to his uniform. Your eyes are focused on him, and you just can't get enough of the way his muscles flex when he moves. He looks hot in a way he shouldn't, at least not while he is doing a workout.

How good must your boyfriend look when he is running into a burning building wearing his uniform, which defines his body so perfectly? Bucky would run into a building, and the flames of the fire would get bigger and bigger, but it didn't stop the firefighter from getting into the building. The sweat would run all over his forehead when he got into the room where the people were standing. Bucky would lift the big shelf, which just crashed down, and he would help them get out of the room before he let go of the shelf and turned back to get out of the building. But before he takes another step, he hears another sound - a meow from across the room. Bucky wouldn't think twice when he saw the little kitten sitting on an armchair, waiting for someone to get her out of the building.

'Hi, my precious little baby. Come here; let's get you out of here.'

He would make his way through the room and pick up the little kitten. Bucky wouldn't mind the rising heat in the room; he would mind the sweat running down his whole body. He would get the little fur ball and get out of the building. When he would take off his helmet, the sweat would have soaked his hair already, and he would slide his hand through it, shoving it out of his face.

"What's in your pretty mind, doll?" Bucky asks, looking up from where he is lying on the ground.

You smirk, your cheeks heating up, especially when you see his sweaty hair clinging to his face. His cheeks are red as well, and his abs are flexing when he does another push-up. Bucky's t-shirt's way already in their place somewhere on the ground. So you have the best view of his sweaty but tensing, high-defined abs.

"I-I'm hungry," you mumble with a soft smirk.

Bucky knows exactly what you mean and what kind of hunger you're feeling. The desire in your eyes tells him that, as does the way your lips are slightly parted while he does his workout.

"Love that, don't you?"

You definitely do, with the way his body is glistening and shining in the light of the sun, which shines into the gym.

"Let's give you your snack then," Bucky says, getting up from the ground.

He makes his way over to you, his hand sliding through his beautiful brown hair. He wipes it out of his face, and his steel-blue eyes darken softly when he sees the way you swallow harshly.

"What do you think about a thick, hard snack?" He asks and places his hand underneath your chin, tilting your head up so you have to look into his eyes. "Wanna have that salty snack?"

You nod, licking your lips, when Bucky leans closer to capture your lips with his. The kiss is short but passionate, and your eyes are filled with lust when he lets go of you. Your hands slide along his thighs while you push him slowly away and get on your knees in front of him. The bulge visible in his pants, your hand gliding over it, and you earn a groan from Bucky. Bucky smirks at you, his hand sliding into your hair and gripping it softly. You slide down his sweatpants with his boxers, and his hard cock springs free. Pre-cum is leaking from his tip, and you lick your lips, smirking when you look at his length.

"Like what you see, doll?"

"Always, Sir."

Bucky groans and pulls your head closer, tugging at your hair while the tip of his cock presses against your lips. You part your lips softly, your mouth watering for a while now, and now you have your favorite snack - Bucky. He pushes his dick inside your mouth; the warmth of it immediately welcomes him, and he throws his head back. Your fingers dig into the soft skin of his thighs. You take his cock completely into your mouth and down your throat. Bucky groans when you gag around him, swallowing his dick down your throat.

"Good girl, taking my dick like a good slut. Such a slut, aren't you?"

You nod, letting his dick slide out of your mouth, then you twirl your tongue around his tip. You love his taste - the salty taste of him. Bucky smirks at you; the way you look up to face him makes him go crazy. So innocent with his dick in your mouth.

"You look so fucking innocent, but sucking my dick little the good girl you're for me." Bucky mumbles and pushes his dick back down your throat.

He loves the warmth and tight feeling, even though he prefers your tight little pussy. Your tongue working along his shaft over his vein makes his groans get louder and more pre-cum dripping on your tongue.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬.

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

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