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flordeamatista · 7 months

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THE MAGICIAN

pairing: mafia!lloyd hansen x reader x mafia!nick fowler

concept: Ecstasy and intense burn fuse together like mirrors falling from the sky.

word count: 2k

warnings: mirror sex + chase kink + double penetration (vaginal and anal), soft dubcon to be safe, mature themes,unprotected sex, nickname ──(Princess, Sunshine) (flashing gif ── glitching gif)

lovely beta: @writing-for-marvel & @lunarbuck

THE WITCHING HOUR ──── KINKTOBER'23

masterlist

A gentle breeze of cold, wet air won't make your fears disappear.

Rain continued to pour down, the icy drops searing your skin as you stepped into the abandoned carnival. Gunfire and lightning lit up the sky, a vivid warning that he lurked around every corner.

Your stomach twisted with terror as you pushed open the carnival gates. Your face was soaked in raindrops, and you felt fear rising from your bones. The cold air reminded you that you were alone and fighting for every moment.

With a charcoal sky in the background, the fairground rides spun and creaked, their colors competing with the smoke from gunshots echoing among them. The thrill rides became a roar of chaos as everyone screamed in response to each gunshot.

In the darkness above, fluffy clouds were tinted black, interrupted only by flickering flames that licked up like tongues of fire, illuminating the whole scene in an eerie carnival glow.

A thick, chaotic energy descended over the scene, overwhelming the sense of tension and stillness. It was clear that his anger had reached a boiling point.

It was all your fault.

His face was contorted in rage as he surveyed his domain, stomping around and smashing anything that dared cross his path.

During his shooting spree, your name was shouted.

Two paths lay before you - one led to safety through the House of Mirrors, and the other led to certain death.

The faint red light shining from ahead made your stomach churn with fear. Darkness filled the air with dread and suffering. While explosions echoed in the distance, you remained indecisive.

Tightly clenching your hands, you took a deep breath before reluctantly stepping forward.

Stepping through the entrance, you removed your jacket. Your senses were overwhelmed by his words running through your mind. Reflections gleamed off the walls as if you were trapped in a time warp. There was a shakiness in your breathing. A wall of mirrors reflected each other in an endless regression of images.

Suddenly, your nose was filled with the unmistakable aromas of a man before his rough hands snatched your waist and pulled you back towards his chest.

You fell to your knees. His rough hand covered your mouth while he pulled his gun from its holster at his waistband, keeping it cool against your neck. Moving your body left, you tried to squirm away from his gun. When his hands reached your shoulders, he squeezed them and pushed you back down.

“Shhh… Sunshine. What are you doing here?” The gun barrel pressed into your throat as he straddled you, crushing you beneath his full weight. Whistling escaped his lips, but when he took the gun away from your neck, only emptiness followed. His eyes were on your rear end as he groped away from your neck and down to give you a squeeze. “I'm here to help us." He pushed himself off you and offered you his hand, forcing you to look at him directly through his crystal blue eyes.

Your tears streamed down your face, and you squeezed your eyelids shut. It was exhausting running from him, maybe this was all you had left.

However, you would meet his enemy, and you didn’t not know whether that would be a victory or a defeat.

"Us?” you spat out. It was clear to you who was holding you down, and you also knew that he didn’t play by the rules.

“Yes, Sunshine, because you have things I want from you. And you need me desperately."

Through your lashes, you saw his eyes scan over your body as he wound his gun from your lips to your breasts.

The voice of this man is familiar to you, one who is labeled as a narcissistic sociopath and who is incapable of empathy for anyone except himself. Your plans were at the center of his fucked up plan for you.

Glistening demonic blue eyes just gave you a hint at what he wanted.

“Leave me alone, Lloyd! You're no better than him," you shouted.

The darkening of his eyes and the calloused grip of his hands told you just how angry he was. Then he ran his fingers delicately along your blouse’s lacing until they rested on your breasts.

Pulling you close, he tied your arms behind your body. He held you tight in place as you gasped in shock and stepped back. Lloyd pulled his gun from his back pocket as he leaned forward to kiss you. His grip was firm as his lips pressed against yours, and you could feel his tenacious body bear down on you, making you shiver. In fear, you struggled to loosen his grip, but he only tightened it more.

"That's fine," he growled with a mocking smirk. "We can do it that way too."

Your wrists were bound behind your back, the rope digging into your skin. Lloyd had spun you around and pushed you up against the cold mirror glass. You could feel every muscle in his body as he pressed against yours. He made every inch of himself felt, from his thick cock to the smirk on his lips. It was an out-of-body experience, being touched all over by someone else's hands while they did it for their own pleasure.

Taking out a handkerchief from his pocket, Lloyd moved it towards your face and filled your nostrils with a pungent smell. Once you were feeling lightheaded from the dizzying scent, he whispered, "I've got you, Sunshine," into your ear before sweeping you up and carrying you into the depths of the house of mirrors.

The air was filled with gloomy lust.

You sat on a chair in nothing but your underwear. The walls of the room were lined with mirrors containing an image of yourself so you could see every angle of how you ended up here.

The man behind it all was Mafia King, Lloyd Hansen; he seemed to have total control over any situation at all times, even when he was losing.

Lloyd placed his hand on your shoulder as he leaned down.

“I know what you want," you said in a soft voice, "but I'm not going to give it to you no matter how hard you try."

Slowly, his hand maneuvered down the front of your underwear to gently touch your clit.

"You like this, don't you? I heard you had him under your spell, so let me have a taste, Sunshine."

You refused to break, spitting on him as he smiled unbothered by your defiance.

"My cock will surely break you, Sunshine. But the worst punishment will be sharing you with him since you decided to cross into neutral territory," he said sinisterly.

On cue, Nick Fowler appeared in the frame of the mirror, clapping as if watching a play. "Ah," Lloyd murmured, "he's here."

“Hello, Princess. Looks like you got yourself into an even bigger mess with two mafia men.”

Taking Lloyd's knife from his back pocket and untying the rope, Nick walked alongside the chair and forced you to stand up. He grabbed your throat firmly and locked his piercing blue gaze on you.

Slowly, Lloyd's hands rubbed the inside of your thighs while pushing them further apart. He weighed your response as he smirked at you.

The only thing you could do was whine and try to keep your eyes open.

A buzz of anticipation filled your body.

"Shh, Princess," whispered Nick. "Take a look in the mirror. See what he is doing to you."

The smirk on Lloyd’s face appeared as he placed his two fingers on either side of your swelling lips. You don’t tell him to stop.

Sensual and delicate to the touch.

Nick's fingertips gently massaged each of your breasts, savouring the softness and firmness. When he heard you moaning, he gently squeezed your nipples until they hardened between his forefinger and thumb.

Slowly, Lloyd inserted a finger inside you, followed by another, causing your hips to rock forward.

For them, finding the information they needed took only seconds. You, on the other hand, enjoyed them taking their sweet time devouring every part of your body.

"Fuck, you're soaking wet, and we've only just begun." Fear gripped you as your head was clouded in fog. You could feel Lloyd's rough hands against your neck. You could feel your pussy becoming wet just by the simple touch.

Your nose was filled with the scent of sweat and whiskey. Lloyd smoothed his other hand over your spine as if it were a stream of water flowing down it.

“Remember, Princess, we are on neutral territory and that means you have to deal with both of us.” Nick’s voice was firm but distant as it echoed off the mirrors.

Nick’s warm breath tickled your neck as he slowly eased himself inside you, inch by inch. His moans of pleasure filled the room as you were engulfed by his hard, thick cock. Every time Nick thrust into you, he took you to new levels of pleasure.

You felt Lloyd's chest pressing against your back as Nick moved faster and faster, increasing in intensity until you finally screamed out in pleasure.

“Let me fuck this ass. Maybe she’ll tell us with two dicks in her holes." Lloyd began blowing air on your back while he moaned about what he wanted to do with you as Nick thrust in and out. "Let's get you warmed up"

That's how this is gonna feel, baby, so strong that it'll make you alive.

“Open her up for me, Nick”

Nick's hands glided down your body, cupping either side of your ass. His fingers pried apart your cheeks. Gentle but assertive pressure let you know he was readying you for Lloyd.

Lloyd's eyes smiled into yours as his tip tested the waters. You felt a slight burn as he inched inside your tightness. “Kitten, oh, Kitten,” he murmured, coaxing you along.

Nick pulled away slightly and demanded that you look at him. He captured your gaze with his own, and the intensity in the double mirror reflection was almost too much to take in.

The sensation of being filled by both men triggered moans and gasps to erupt from deep within you.

“Look at you taking us in,” Lloyd said reassuringly as his hand moved back and forth on your spine. He delivered a sharp slap to your ass, sending shivers racing through your body.

His lips left a trail of heat down your neck, teasingly stroking the sensitive area that instantly made your body hum. One hand rubbed circles around your clit while the other teased and tugged at it. You sank further into their embrace as both men pressed deeper into you, and the sensations swirled through your body. Their groans and cries pushed against your body's walls until finally, they reached an explosive release.

You clenched around the two dangerous men, and they spilled their cum in you as they fought over pleasure and pain.

Ecstasy and intense burn fuse together like mirrors falling from the sky.

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navybrat817 · 7 months

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See Through You

Pairing: Dark!Nick Fowler x Female Reader Summary: You head to a carnival with your best friend and get more than you bargained for when your handsome neighbor bumps into you. Word Count: Almost 4.8k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, NONCON/DUBCON, unprotected vaginal sex, semi-public sex, choking, mirror sex, possessive behavior, mentions of stalking, breaking and entering, threat of violence and implied violence (not against the reader), Nick Fowler (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Fix #8 Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Special thanks to @maskedmistress87 who suggested dark!Nick with mirror and choking and @sgt-seabass and @tumblin-theworldaway for spitballing. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @buckets-and-trees (thanks for the feedback and help!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was your best friend's idea to wear costumes to the carnival. Though it wasn't Halloween just yet, it was a good way to get into the spooky holiday spirit. You weren't sure why you decided on a Red Riding Hood costume, but the cape would keep you somewhat warm if it got too cold. So would the stockings. You even got a basket purse so you could carry your things around and keep in theme with the outfit.

If you were lucky, you'd find yourself a big, bad wolf to play with.

After adjusting the cape around your neck, you spritzed yourself with your favorite perfume and carefully set the bottle on your vanity. You always set it to the right of your jewelry box. Strangely, it wasn't in its usual spot the last few days. Just like your robe wasn't yesterday. You swore you set it on the left hook, but when you got out of the shower it was on the right.

It would’ve been easy to write it off as a roommate messing with you, but you lived alone.

“I really need to stop watching scary movies before bed,” you mumbled as you went to your dresser and shut your underwear drawer. It was ajar a few days ago. Had you left your place in such a hurry that you forgot to close it?

The ding of your phone pulled you from your thoughts, giving yourself one more look in your vanity mirror before you went to get the device.

“Two minutes away!” Kiki messaged you.

There was a slight chill in the air as you went outside to wait, but that wasn't why you shivered. Every once in a while, you had the feeling someone was watching you. Like a pair of eyes following your every move. It didn't make sense. There was nothing about you worth watching.

It didn't stop a chill from sliding down your spine as you looked over your shoulder every time you left your home. Or when you thought about the random things that moved around your place. As far as you knew, no one knew where your spare key was. You lost sleep wondering if some creep snuck in. If someone did break in, they didn’t take anything.

But if someone went into your place and didn't steal anything, what did they want?

“Nice costume.”

You jumped at the sound of a familiar voice, almost dropping your phone as you turned toward it. “Nick, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he smiled, but didn't sound sorry at all.

“Sure you are,” you smiled back, your heart slowing to a steady beat again as you wondered how he managed to sneak up on you.

Nick Fowler moved into your neighborhood a few months ago. He usually kept to himself, but made it a point to give you a nod when he was going to or from work. While you wouldn't say you were friends, he was friendly enough with you and didn't bother anyone. He even helped you fix your cable when it went out some time back. As far as neighbors went, he was a good one.

And a handsome one.

The man turned quite a few heads when he unloaded boxes from the moving truck and you didn’t blame anyone for looking his way. With his athletic build, he carried the heavy items with ease. He had the bluest eyes you’d ever seen and his short, dark hair only helped to make them stand out more. The scruff surrounding his lips and along his chin looked long enough to leave a delicious burn if it ever touched your skin. You hardly ever saw him smile at anyone, except you. And he smirked at you on more than one occasion.

Like he had a secret he was itching to tell you.

“You okay?” He asked, taking a step closer. “You seem a little jumpier than usual.”

“Just a little tired. Haven't slept well the last few nights.”

“Is everything okay?”

You debated telling him what was going on since he sounded concerned, but decided against it. You didn't need to burden him with that. Besides, nothing was wrong. Just the spooky season getting under your skin. “Oh, yeah. Everything's fine. I’ll probably end up crashing when I get back.”

“Well, I'm here if you need anything,” he said after a moment. Those blue eyes of his meticulously looked over your costume. “So, you have a fun night planned?”

You almost tightened your cape around your body to hide from his gaze. Not that his attention wasn't flattering. It was kind of nice. Plus he was single as far as you knew and you never noticed him bringing anyone around. “Yeah. Going out with a friend."

Nick frowned a little. “He isn't wearing a wolf costume, is he?”

You swore there was a hint of jealousy in his tone, but you were probably imagining it. “No, she isn't,” you said, smiling as his shoulders relaxed.

“Well, it’s a great costume. You honestly look good enough to eat,” he said, chuckling a bit when heat crawled up your neck. “Sorry. I hope that didn’t sound bad.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I appreciate the compliment,” you said, both of you smiling as the warmth continued to move up to your face. “Do you have any plans?”

“I may watch a movie,” he said, running his fingers through his short hair. You tried not to stare at the veins in his hands or the way his sweater hugged his muscular frame. “It's too bad you can't join me.”

Your eyebrows shot up, not expecting his offer. Was it an actual offer? He hadn't invited you over to his place before. “Is it a scary movie? I like them, but sometimes they…”

“Scare you?” he guessed, his smile sympathetic as you nodded. “Well, you don't have to worry about any bad guys with me around. I can keep you safe.”

You smiled softly before Kiki pulled up to the curb. “Maybe another time?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, seemingly disappointed as he nodded toward the car. “Have fun at the carnival.”

Your smile slipped a little as he walked toward his place. “Thanks,” you called out, quickly getting into the car.

“Hey! Isn't that your super hot neighbor?” Kiki asked as you buckled yourself in.

“Yeah,” you replied, looking in the mirror as she drove off. Nick had stopped before he went inside and watched as the two of you drove away. It made you shiver. “He kind of invited me over to his place.”

“What?! And you're in here with me?” she asked, lightly smacking your arm. “You should've gone with him or invited him to come with us. You could’ve gotten laid tonight.”

At the reminder of your recent lack of sex life, you sighed. There was nothing wrong with having fun, but you wanted a bit more than that. Not like anyone had shown interest in you as of late. There was the guy who lived across the street who flirted with you weeks back, but he pretty much avoided contact with you the next day.

You wondered if he moved out since you hadn’t seen him since.

“You were already on your way and I didn’t want to just invite him,” you said, loosening your grip on your purse when your fingers began to ache. “It's weird though. He told me to have fun at the carnival, but I don't remember ever telling him I was going.”

How did he know?

“Maybe he guessed. Or maybe you mentioned it and forgot. I mean, you did say you haven't been sleeping well lately.”

“That's my own fault,” you said.

“Well, lack of sleep could be messing with your memory. And may I remind you that I told you to stop watching scary movies? They always make you jumpy,” she said, glancing over at you as her smile faded. Nick even noticed your jumpiness. “Look, we can skip this and go tomorrow. I don't mind.”

You shook your head and brushed the strange feeling off. She was right. Those films made you paranoid and she didn't need to deal with that. “No, it's okay. We deserve some fun.”

“You want some real fun, go visit your neighbor when you get back. He looks like he knows how to fuck.”

“I'm sure he does,” you giggled. You had no doubt about that. “But I'm not going to find out tonight.”

“You might. Who knows? He may even show up at the carnival to hunt you down.”

You both laughed, your smile bright and happy again. No one was going to hunt you down. No one was watching you. Your life wasn't some creepy movie. You just needed to relax and have a good time.

The carnival was in full swing, booming with cheerful music and shouts from people on the brightly lit rides. As you followed Kiki though, you kind of regretted not taking Nick up on his offer to hang out. Not even thirty minutes after you arrived, your best friend bumped into a hot guy. Literally bumped into him and almost spilled her drink on his shirt. Both of them had hearts in their eyes and they had been attached at the hip since. While you were glad she was having a good time, you were starting to feel a bit like a third wheel.

You also had that impression that someone was watching you again. Your skin prickled as you looked to the left and right, wishing the feeling would go away. It was silly. No one was looking at you. Everything was fine.

“Hey,” you said, tapping Kiki on her arm as she laughed at some corny joke. “I think I may explore on my own a bit.”

Her face fell as she looked between you and her new beau. “You sure? We can-”

“I'm sure. Really,” you assured her. She deserved to have a good time and would've encouraged you to do the same if you bumped into a guy. “I'll text you in a bit so we can meet back up?”

“Or I can give you a ride home.”

Surprise was written all over your face as you spun around. That was the second time Nick made you jump today, an amused smile on his face as you held your chest. He was in the same outfit you saw him in earlier, but he now had a sticker on the left side of his chest that stated, “Hi! My name is NICK”.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, his smile immediately fading as you took a breath. Your tone was a lot sharper than you intended. “I'm sorry. You just scared me again.”

Nick peered at you before he sighed. “Didn't mean to scare you or eavesdrop. I got bored watching the movie and decided to check this place out,” he said, glancing down at his feet for a moment. “I tried waving a minute ago, but I guess you didn't see me.”

You felt like a bitch. Maybe that was why you thought someone was watching you. It really was all in your head. “Sorry, I didn't see you.”

“Sorry I scared you again,” he said.

“It's okay. Really.”

“Well, neighbor, since you're here, you two should hang out,” Kiki suggested, giving you an encouraging smile.

What did you have to lose? “Would you like to join me?”

Your neighbor's smile was back on his handsome face. “Yeah, I'd like that.”

Kiki nudged you forward, moving you closer to Nick as your stomach flipped. “Text me when you leave or if you still need a ride.”

“Don't worry. I'll take care of her," Nick promised as she walked off with her new guy on her arm, leaving the two of you alone. “Lead the way."

“Okay," you said, maintaining a bit of distance as you walked beside him. You had no clue if you wanted to play games or go on a ride. “Anything in particular you want to do?”

“You.”

Your head twisted in his direction so quickly you almost hurt yourself. “What?”

“I said ‘boo’,” he said, pointing in front of him. The two-story, brightly lit funhouse had a bunch of random words on the panels, including “boo”. Why did you think he said “you”? God, you needed to get a grip. “Should we do that? It could be fun.”

With a small laugh, you nodded. “Fun in a funhouse,” you said, stopping when the carnival worker at the entrance held up his hand.

“I’m about to go on my break. Come back in thirty minutes.”

“Oh. Okay,” you said, shrugging a little at Nick. Maybe you could find something else to do.

Nick, however, didn’t budge. “That’s quite a break. Tell you what,” he said, taking out his wallet and pulling out a bill. The worker’s eyes lit up when he saw the amount. “Why don’t you take your break and let us go in anyway? We won’t cause any trouble.”

“Stay the whole time for all I care,” the guy said, taking the money with a toothy grin and letting both of you go past to walk up the steps. “Enjoy!” he added, roping it off with a “closed” sign before he walked away.

“Go ahead,” Nick urged, waiting for you to finish going up the stairs first.

The normally whimsical music sounded strange to your ears. Maybe it felt spooky since you knew you were the only two that would be inside. Or maybe it was because the movie you watched a couple of nights ago took place in a funhouse. A group of teens went in. Nobody made it out. No, this wouldn't be anything like that.

“We really could’ve just come back,” you said, holding onto the railing as the stairs shifted back and forth. You didn’t hear Nick follow right away. Glancing back, you swore you saw him check out your ass. Not that he could see much thanks to the cape.

“You might have decided to leave before we made it back this way,” he said as you came across a spinning barrel. Just staring at it made you slightly dizzy. “Not that it would’ve been a bad thing if we left since Kiki ditched you so quickly.”

“She didn’t ditch me,” you argued as you stepped into the barrel. The sound of a laughing clown filled your ears as you did your best to walk in a straight line. “She deserves some fun,” you added, regaining your balance once you stepped onto a normal floor again.

Nick followed you so silently that you didn’t realize he was right behind you until his lips touched your ear. “So do you.”

Hot air shot out of the ceiling above your head with a piercing whistle, giving you an excuse to jump away as your heart pounded. His eyes sparkled in amusement at your reaction. “Like I said, fun in the funhouse,” you teased, putting your hands along the walls as the hallway grew narrow. It was still large enough for you to squeeze through.

“Especially since we have the place to ourselves,” he reminded you.

A shiver rolled down your spine. You wondered exactly what kind of fun he wanted to have and if you should’ve chosen your words more carefully. “You know,” you began as you stumbled into a Hall of Mirrors, frowning as you realized there wasn’t an open door or space to move through. Which mirror did you have to push to get to the next room? “You didn’t say why you were wearing a nametag.”

“It's my costume," he said, tilting his head like the answer was obvious.

You glanced around to see if any of the mirrors had any smudges, anything to give away which direction to go. They were all clean. “And what exactly are you supposed to be?"”

He smirked as he met your reflection in one of the mirrors. “I’m dressed as your neighbour who’s gonna fuck you until you can’t remember anything but my name."

You nearly fell into the mirror and he quickly caught your arm to keep you upright, the grip a bit tighter than you expected. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me," he shrugged a little as he stepped closer. “Almost wore a wolf costume so I could chase you down. The subtle hints I've dropped aren’t working, so I might as well spell it out for you.”

You tried to figure out if he was joking or not. Your reaction was to giggle. A nervous, soft laugh that seemed to wipe his smirk away. “Is that why you came here tonight? You were hoping you'd fuck me?” you asked, remembering your earlier talk with Kiki. “I don’t even remember telling you I was coming here.”

He tapped his ear. “I heard you on the phone with your friend.”

“I was in my bedroom when we made those plans. There’s no way you could've…” you trailed off, a sense of dread pooling in your stomach as he stared at you. Did his eyes always have a dangerous glint to them? “Nick, how did you hear that phone call?”

“Take a wild guess, sweetheart.”

You swallowed a little. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’ve been messing with me.”

It sounded crazy to your ears and you didn’t want to believe it because blaming it on irrational fear was easier. But the single, unashamed nod he gave you almost made you crumble. “I never told you what I do for work, but I’m good with setting up bugs and cameras. And such a sweet thing like you living so close, I couldn't help myself,” he explained casually, like he wasn’t admitting to something completely messed up. “You make such pretty noises when you touch yourself.”

“You watched me,” you whispered, your head spinning when he smirked. He watched you in your intimate, private moments. What else did he do?

“Knocking out your cable gave me the perfect excuse to get inside your place without raising suspicion. You never would've invited me over otherwise. Though you really should be more careful where you keep your spare key. Made it way too easy for me to make a copy.”

You held your stomach to keep from getting sick. So many thoughts raced through your mind as he advanced on you. Why had you ignored your instincts? Did your attraction to him partially blind you? “Why?”

“Because I wanted to. Because you’re mine. Take you pick,” he said, wrapping a hand around your neck before you could move back. “You have no idea how tempted I was to break down your door and fuck you after watching the footage. Or every time I snuck into your place. I even moved things around in the hope you’d turn to me and let me 'help you' figure out what was happening, but you didn’t. You kept your distance. Your little ‘hard to get’ act was cute, but a man can only take so much.”

Each word he spoke added a new layer of dread and alarm. He squeezed a little when you tried to pry his hand away, tears blurring your vision. Shouting wouldn’t do you any good, but it didn’t stop the screams in your mind. “I wasn't playing hard to get. I liked you,” you managed to say.

“And you weren't trying to lead that flirty neighbor on either, but you're too sweet for your own good. Don't worry. I took care of him. He'll never bother you again,” he smirked as your blood ran cold. What did he do? “Or anyone else for that matter.”

The man was insane. “Nick, you-”

He cut you off when he pressed his soft and warm lips against your mouth. You were two seconds away from biting into his bottom lip when he spun you around and shoved your front against the closest, normal mirror. It didn’t budge. “I’m tired of waiting for you to come around,” he said, yanking your cape off. “Tired of just watching when I know you belong to me.”

You froze, unable to fight or yell when he shoved your costume up. No one would hear you over the sounds of the carnival and the worker running the attraction wasn't close by. Why weren’t you fighting? Why couldn’t you do anything to stop him?

“Nick, let’s talk,” you tried to reason. “Please, you don’t have to do this.”

The sound of him tearing your underwear away made the first tear fall. “We're past the talking stage,” he snarled, kicking your legs apart before you whimpered. You weren’t sure if it was the sound that softened his gaze or the sight of your tears. “I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. That’s the last thing I want to do.”

His words did nothing to soothe you when he undid his pants. “You are hurting me,” you whispered. He hurt you by bringing fear into your life when he could've just asked you out.

“Am I?” he asked, parting your opening with his fingers. He chuckled darkly as he pushed a digit in with no warning. “Then why are you so wet?”

You whined in denial, but he was right. Arousal trickled along your thighs, your hole aching with the need for him to fill you with something larger than his finger. What was wrong with you? “No,” you moaned.

“Don’t deny me,” he growled, nosing along your neck before he bit down. You yelped, the sharp pain making you tighten around his finger. “Oh, sweetheart, we’re going to have so much fun together.”

Your body betrayed your will as he played with you and you were thankful momentarily when he pulled out. The relief was short-lived when you looked over your shoulder, just in time to watch him unzip his pants and take his hard cock out of his underwear. He’d break you with his size. “You can’t, please.”

“Yes, I can,” he said as he pressed the head of his cock against your sopping wet entrance. “Now be good and take what I give you.”

“Don't-”

“The only thing I want to hear you say is my name. Let’s let your pussy tell me how much you want me.”

You screamed as he pushed inside, your walls burning as you tried to accommodate for the size of him. He hadn’t prepped you nearly enough, though your arousal took some of the pain away. He didn’t pause to give you a chance to adjust either, as if the wet sound of you sucking his cock in gave him permission to take what he believed belonged to him.

“Fuck, your pussy feels better than I imagined,” he groaned, your resolve cracking as you opened your eyes. He forced you to meet his gaze in the mirror and you watched in horrid fascination as he took you. The surrounding glass showed every angle of his claim, your reality becoming more and more distorted. He surrounded you. Consumed you. “And it’s all mine.”

You made a small sound as you braced your hands on the glass, forced to feel every drag of his cock. The more he moved, the more you tried to grind your hips back against his. It was shameful for you to like it, humiliating that you wanted to get off because of him. It was as if your body no longer belonged to you and maybe it never did. Otherwise, why would you want this?

“When I get you home, I’ll take my time. Get you addicted to my cock,” he grunted, smiling at the glazed look in your eyes. “I’ll record it. Make you see how much you love it.”

“Nick,” you gasped when he put his hand around your throat again, a silent command not to close your eyes or look away. You moved a hand to his wrist when it became harder to breathe. He loosened his grip enough for you to inhale and slid his hand down to your chest, squeezing one of your breasts with a moan. You moaned, too.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Look at you. Look at us,” he groaned as he thrust faster. The hand on your chest moved back to your throat when he reached under your skirt. “See how perfect we are together? How well you take my cock? You know you belong to me.”

The sloppy sounds of your cunt got louder as he found your clit and rubbed it quickly. It was almost too much, but you craved more. What was the point of denying him when your pussy kept trying to pull him back in? Why fight the inevitable pleasure when your body surrendered to him?

You weren’t sure how much time had passed and it didn’t matter. You were lucky to remember your own name. He was fucking you dumb and you wondered why the fear faded. You knew it would return when he finished, but you felt ecstasy for now.

“My fucking slut. Never letting you go,” he said, pinching the bundle of nerves with a smirk as you breathed his name. The familiar twist of pleasure grew and his name was the only word you said as dark indulgence flooded your veins. You were going to come and there was nothing you could do to stop it. “So come for me. Right. Fucking. Now.”

The rough demand made your fluttering hole squeeze around him almost painfully. You struggled to hold back, but the release washed over you like a tidal wave. All you could do was helplessly pant as you trembled, his soaked cock thrusting still so he could join you in sweet bliss. And you wanted it. You wanted him to come inside you.

You could hate yourself later for wanting it so badly.

“You. Are. Mine,” he growled, his name falling from your lips as he tipped over the edge. You spasmed around him still as he finished, your cunt filled to the brim. “Mine.”

You gasped for air as he buried his face in your neck, your body shaking as you pressed your forehead against the glass. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Maybe once you had the strength you'd run. Scream. Cry.

“Look at me,” Nick breathed, his lips touching your pulse. You blinked some of the haze from your eyes as you lifted your head, your heart still racing out of control. Minus the darkened tint in his cheeks, he looked normal. Not a hair out of place. Like he hadn't forced himself on you. “Didn't have to be like this, but it would've happened no matter what."

You nodded, believing him. He took you in the middle of the funhouse without a care of getting caught. He got what he wanted.

“And don't even think about running away from me or I'll chase you down,” he added.

Feeling his spend slide out of you as he pulled out helped the reality of the situation sink in. He took you and you didn't stop him. “I won't,” you answered in a small voice you didn't recognize as he tucked himself away and fixed his pants.

“Good,” he smiled, retrieving your cape from the ground and wrapping it back around you. “Because I'd hate for anything to happen to Kiki. Such a nice coincidence that some guy bumped into her, isn't it?”

You shook your head quickly, tears forming in your eyes again. “No, don't hurt her,” you begged. If what he said about your neighbor was true…

Nick cooed as he framed your face and gently kissed your lips. It was so tender and you almost believed he was capable of being good. Almost. “Be mine and I won't.”

He said it casually, but his eyes told you not to defy him. “I'm yours,” you whispered.

“Good girl,” he said, pulling a hand away to check his watch. “Time's almost up. Let's go.”

You had a hard time moving your feet, but he put an arm around you to help. It was like you were drunk, unable to see or think straight as he quickly found which mirror to exit through. You just wanted to go home, but he took your safe haven away.

Was Nick Fowler your villain or was he an antihero for doing whatever it took to get you?

“Don't worry. We'll let Kiki know you got home safely. You can even tell her I asked you out tonight,” he said, flashing a smile at you that made him look like he'd take a bite out of you. “And when we get back to my place, I'll get you addicted to my cock like I promised.”

So, what do we think? Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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shamrockqueen · 29 days

Text

Omega retreat : chapter 4

Pairing : Alpha Bucky x Omega reader

Warnings : R18, Eventual Smut, General Discomfort, nothing is what it seems, fluff, heart ache

Word count : 2131

Masterlist

He was very understanding when you asked him to give you time to think about his invitation. It was the turning point you hoped to avoid just a little longer, appreciating instead that you could be just like any other normal girl. Yet, some things couldn't be left on the back burner.

The untouched notification continued to light up your inbox, no doubt just being the website’s way of ensuring their reservation went through and they would be paid.

You turned over to look at your phone and the little banner still sitting at the top that said, “You’ve been invited to reserve a cabin by JAMES BARNES.”

It was fitting that he’d picked the Gold Package, and you had to admit, a sexy getaway was incredibly tantalizing.

Yet, everything felt rushed, and you knew exactly why. You knew you were always going to give in, but ever since that conversation at the hospital, you wanted so badly for every choice to at least be your own. Something you wanted to do, not be coerced by circumstances.

You told yourself every second after you’d logged into your computer, your eyes still heavy with broken sleep, that this was still your decision. Accepting the invite would be your decision, no matter what reason you had to make it.

With one simple click, it was done, a cascade of hearts flooding the screen as their little mascot hopped around with joy. It was cute, yet still a little cheesy.

You set the computer aside before laying back on the bed and letting the small streaks of sun coming in from the window warm your skin. You felt so oddly relieved, yet still so anxious. It was a good start, better than what you had before.

A small ding sang through the peaceful morning, and once again you emerged from your little sheet cocoon to grab your phone from the nightstand. It was a message from Bucky, and he seemed as excited as ever to have gotten your confirmation.

‘Good morning :D’

You smiled at the message, feeling more relief spread through your tired body as you typed back.

‘Morning. I take it you got the notification.’

You watched as those three dots jumped inside the prospective chat bubble before two popped up at once.

‘I did indeed.’

‘You have no idea how happy this makes me.’

Everything he said always seemed to make your heart blossom with a new feeling of warmth. It really put into perspective how tiring all that stress and anxiety really was when it finally started to disappear.

Expressing his eagerness through text must not have been enough for him, as the phone buzzed to life in your hand before you could type another reply.

You didn’t hesitate to answer it, and your belly fluttered at the low rumble of his voice as it sang through the speaker.

“Hey, doll”

“Hi. You miss me already?”

You heard him chuckle softly, probably smiling at the bashful tone in your voice. “I hope I’m not coming on too strong.”

“No! I think it’s really sweet.”

It was nice to have someone care this much about your needs, especially above their own. It was someone who wanted to take care of you at what may well be your weakest.

You hear him clear his throat for a second, shaking the sweet and sugary vibe that the conversation had started on. “Do I have the date right? If not, then I can fix the reservation..”

“No, you remembered very well. I’m actually surprised.”

“I guess I’m just excited.”

“That makes two of us; I’m practically shaking in my boots.”

He laughed back at your goofy little retort, and you giggled nervously along with him.

“I was kind of afraid you’d say no.” His voice seemed to fall again as he spoke, giving you a glimpse of a few insecurities of his own. “Like, maybe I scared you away.”

“As if.” You laughed it off immediately, bemused at the thought that he’d consider himself anything more than the teddy bear he’d shown you.

“I needed some time to take it in for a second. I just felt so much in the moment, ya-know.” You smiled down at the phone as you spoke, hoping you could melt his fears just as he did yours. “Believe me, you're not scary one bit.”

You swear you could feel the laugh he’d let out as you chuckled with him.

He’d talked to you for hours, showering you with compliments as he finalized the details of your trip.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to take that time off? It is pretty soon.” You stepped around your kitchen, looking for a mug to pour some coffee into. Bucky watched your shapely form as it moved across his screen, smiling to himself before you turned back to the phone and caught his eyes wondering.

The conversation had since evolved into a video call, letting you see the actual smile on his face. There would be glimpses of the rough grain in his facial hair and the deepening blue of his eyes, but there were finer details that you couldn’t see.

You wanted to see so much more, and soon you will. That thought alone made you feel so much happier.

He brushed his hair back with his fingers, leaving a thick lock behind his ear and a few strands to fall back across his forehead and cheek.

“I’ll be just fine; help to be your own boss.”

“Oh? Big boss, man, huh?”

He huffed a chuckle before he spoke back, “A story for another time, but I’ll tell you now it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

You gave him a little pout.

“What about you?” He asked, in a clear attempt to redirect the conversation back to the original question.

“Oh, I always get my heat off. It’s kinda like that for Omega’s.”

You were more than lucky to work in an environment that was so welcoming to people like you, and you were sure that your supervisor would understand.

“Makes sense..” You watched his eyes wander from the screen as he pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants. It looked so out of date that it was no wonder why he only used the webcam on his computer.

“Nice flip phone, grandpa.”

He laughed back at you with “gee thanks, doll” before tossing down the bad news. “I gotta go.”

“Awe, already.”

“Yeah, nothing like a work emergency on a Saturday.” You watched him toss the phone on his desk offscreen before turning back to you. “I can’t wait to see you, Omega.”

“I can’t wait either, Alpha.” You felt his eyes shift as you spoke, as if finally hearing you say his denomination so diffidently.

You tapped the red button on the phone screen, ending the call before you turned it off and set it aside.

By mid-afternoon, you’d since decided to knock out a few of your household chores. You were already elbow deep in some soapy dishwater when you heard another familiar ringtone. You fumbled for the dish towel nearby to dry your pruney fingers before grappling with your phone.

You accepted the call and called back a sweet greeting to one of your favorite people.

“Hi, mom.”

“Hi sweetie. I haven’t heard from you in a few days..” Her concern was sweet, but you were quick to cut her short, not wanting another reminder of the previous incident.

“I’m fine, mom.”

She sighed back, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I know.”

“Any news?” Her voice lightened, truly hoping there would have been an update on your condition and even more so that it was promising.

There was plenty of news, wonderful news that you weren’t ready to break to your worrisome mothers just yet.

Better now than never, it seemed, “I met someone.”

“Oh?”

She didn’t sound happy, and every second afterward that she left you in silence made your once-airy mood deflate.

"He's uh...He’s an alpha.” Your jaw only tightens further as you wait for an answer back. Anything would be better than another ‘oh?’

“Well, that’s nice. W-where did you two..meet?” Her discomfort was never easily hidden, but at least she was trying.

“We met on this dating site, and we’ll be spending some time together soon.”

“I see. So is it a date to a cafe or dinner?”

“We’re going away for...." You struggled to find the words, "...it’s just this vacation rental somewhere quiet and calm.”

“Oh, a getaway. Sounds nice, but... you know your cycle will be coming soon. It’s probably best to be careful.”

“I-I'll be taken care of..."

“Are you sure? I can always be there to take care of you in case of another emergency.”

You felt your stomach tighten a little as she spoke.

“That’s actually why we’ll be out of town.” Your toes shifted along the floor, carting you to the fridge so you could grip the handle to better hold yourself upright.

She didn’t answer back right away, only giving you a weak “you can’t do that.”

It made the blood freeze in your veins, leaving your body tense against the refrigerator. “Mom..”

“Do you have any idea what might happen to you all that way from home?”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“The hell you do. You can’t do this. I can’t lose you.”

She seemed to spiral nearly as badly as you did.

“If I go through another heat without a partner, you fucking will lose me.” You nearly wailed as you yelled back into the phone, only to be met with a few moments of dead air.

It made the frantic beat of your heart seem louder and louder. Proof that no matter how calm the waters felt, you couldn’t escape the truth that swam beneath them.

“Sweetheart, I only want you to be safe.”

You knock your head back against the fridge before letting your body slide along the side of it, letting the newly mounting anxieties drag you down to the floor. “I’m not safe alone, mom.”

“I’m sorry. I know you wanted to wait for all this, and it’s not fair.” Her voice was just as weak as yours was now.

“It’s fine; I need to grow up sometime.” You said back, pulling your knees to your chest. You didn’t want to wallow in this disparity anymore; you were so sick of it all. It takes a single thought—a glimmer of hope shining through the dark clouds that have begun to circle around you.

You thought of Bucky.

“B..James’ is nice; I think you’d like him.” You had to quickly correct yourself, knowing his nickname had been sweet to you but could seem silly to others. You still remember the abashed laugh you gave when he first told you.

“Iâ€¦good, that’s good.”

You knew that wasn’t what she wanted to say, and now you weren’t afraid to say it instead.

“You think you’d like him more if you’d gotten to meet him.”

“I didn’t say that, but yes.” You hear her voice wavering as she speaks. “I’m glad, though, that he’s nice. I hope you have fun on your trip.”

“Thank you, mom.”

“Please be safe, sweetheart. I love you.”

You sighed for a second before telling her you loved her too, and the call came to an end. You were still hugging your knees, nearly curling in on yourself in your kitchen. The floor was uncomfortable, and you finally unfolded yourself and pushed off of it. You missed the careless feeling you’d had while talking to Bucky, lamenting how easily your mood had dipped like a sinking ship.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair at all. Just when you thought you could escape the anxiety, it rounded its ugly head around each corner. Well, this time you wouldn’t be taking it lying down anymore.

You used this new momentum to spur yourself through the house and towards your bedroom. You bolted for your closet, determined now only to look ahead to your chance to get away from it all. You tore through your hung clothes, wanting to find anything that could impress your perspective, Alpha.

You found yourself leafing through more khaki shorts than you’d realized you’d owned. Faded sundresses and worn-out old sandals littered the pile, along with plain cotton panties in contrast to any lacy lingerie.

You still had a long way to go before you truly felt comfortable in your own skin. But certainly, a little shopping could do some good too.

There was a fire in your belly, burning you forward like an angry locomotive.

It will be a cold day in hell before anyone takes this opportunity away from you.

Tag list : @bethyruth @scott-loki-barnes @wintrsoldrluvr @buckysdoll85 @lendeluxe @meowmeowyoongles @heletsmelovehim @mcira @buckysbaby-doll @serendipitouslife90 @unicornicopia1 @animegirlgeeky @matchat3a @darkdemeter @onyxwolf @thebuckybarnesvault

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 1 year

Note

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

Experiments

Pairing || Winter Soldier x Female!Reader

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

Word Count || 2901

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

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

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

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soldat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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sarahowritesostucky · 28 days

Text

Happy Little Family

📖"Taking Back What's His"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6170

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

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

This chapter: You try one last, desperate ploy to escape, but it doesn't exactly work out. And James hasn't come alone. The next time you wake up, you're a long way from home.

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

2. Taking Back What's His

(Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!)

He says something to you, after. Words that might as well be in his native Russian, for how well you take them in. But they're soft, and reassuring—he’s pleased. His body weight moves off the bed.

When you finally open your eyes and blink up at the ceiling, it’s the softest baby pink all around the edges, like smoke curling into your vision. It’s nice, peaceful. Feels good-all-over in that way that painkillers do. You haven’t experienced it since the last time you had sex with an alpha.

Which James unfortunately seems to have figured out was with him, almost two years ago.

“Oh, kotenok, You haven’t been fucking anybody.”

You’re still in the afterglow, mind muzzy, all of your previous panic and fear blunted near to the point of erasure with how nice it feels to float, when you hear James’ pleased chuckle from where he’s getting dressed. He comes back and leans over you. “Hey Sweetheart. Feeling good?”

You frown at him, though it takes a concerted effort to make any expression of displeasure. You want him to know you aren’t happy, that this state he’s fucked you into isn’t real. You want to slap that smug fucking look right off his face. All you manage to come up with is a pouty little “no" that makes James laugh.

“Come here.” He fixes your dress, then helps you up off the bed. He seems to be checking to make sure you’re steady on your feet before he lets you stand on your own. “You good?”

“M’fine.” He knows you too well, knows how intense it can be for you, how strongly you react to him. You avoid his knowing gaze. You’re not completely useless like this. You can still remember everything that’s going on, can still remember June. “Please,” you say again, trying to change the tone of your voice. “Let me give her to Hilde.”

James rolls his eyes. “Right, right. Your friend across the street.”

“Please James?” You look up at him, pink edges all around his face, so pretty. Goddamn him. “She’ll be safe there.”

Again, something passes through his eyes too quickly for you to identify. It might be annoyance. He sighs, and the look, whatever it was, is gone. “Sure thing, Doll. Babies need a lot of stuff. You might as well pack up what she needs.”

You nod tearfully, going to your closet to grab a bag. He follows close behind, sending a clear message that he’s not planning on letting you out of his sights while you do this. James isn’t stupid, you’ll give him that.

In the nursery, June is happy to see you and wants you to pick her up. You talk to her in a sweet, placating voice as you go around the room grabbing different things that she’ll need and stuffing them in the bag. At this point you know to be grateful for the haze. Even as it tapers off, it’s blunting the sorrow that you know would otherwise have you sobbing and your voice clogging with tears. This way at least, you’re able to keep June thinking everything is alright. This way she isn’t scared.

It’s when you’re crouched beside the changing table, stuffing diapers into the bag with James behind you that you get the idea: Downstairs: the kitchen: in the drawer. Your gun.

You stop moving long enough that James notices. “What’re you doing? Come on.”

You stand back up. Yes. You have to do it. This is the only chance you have at getting out of this and not losing June. You lick your lips nervously before turning back around to face him. “I … have to get her bottles and stuff from downstairs,” you say, hoping that the lingering post-coital haze is enough to keep your true intentions off your face. Your eyes flick up to James, who’s squinting at your tits.

“Bottle?” He starts to smirk, and you glare at him.

“Yes. Asshole. I won’t exactly be around to feed her, now will I?”

His face softens at that and he gives you an apologetic look. “Right. Well go on, then.”

You move for the hallway, realize he’s not following you, and turn back in confusion. He’s beside the crib, holding his hand out for June to touch. Your heart leaps from your spot in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

He arches an eyebrow. “I’m waiting right here until you come back upstairs,” he says, his message clear.

Your pulse picks up, but you force yourself to nod. You’re useless without that gun. You have to get to it. He narrows his eyes at you while June giggles and reaches for his wiggling fingers. “No games.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, and turn and head for the stairs.

It’s pure torture to move at a casual speed, especially as your mind is clearing and the fearful emotions returning. In the downstairs hallway, you check once over your shoulder that James hasn’t followed you, then pick up your pace, hurrying into the kitchen and heading straight for the drawer where you keep the gun.

Your eyes tear up as you maneuver past the digital lock that you installed for nothing. June’s still crawling. She never even got old enough to toddle over here. You press the code into the keypad, cringing when it does its quiet little two-tone ‘beep’ at being unlocked. You wait, heart in your throat until you hear the mechanism moving, then rip open the drawer.

Your heart stops and your brain freezes and all you can think is: No. No, no no—

“Looking for this?”

You whirl around, and there he is: standing on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the sink as he holds your only weapon in his hands.

His face is relaxed, Goddamn him, as he pretends to ignore your horror and instead holds the gun up to flippantly inspect it. “I have to say, Doll, I’m impressed. I would’ve expected some puny girl gun. Ruger, Derringer. But this?” He turns the Skorpion in his hands, and chuckles softly when he sees the cartridge. “Jesus. You really wanted to blow a hole in somebody, didn’t you?” His eyes finally drag up to you, the hand he’s holding the gun with dropping down by his side as he starts walking over, slowly, step by step, eyes boring into you with a growing anger.

Oh shit. Dread curls in your gut but you’re frozen. Bolting now wouldn’t even get you to the staircase. He presses in close, pinning you against the countertop. He brings the gun up and nudges your jaw with it, leaning in and breathing in your face, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find it, vorishka?”[little thief]

He’s taunting you with your own failure, and you can’t stop the whimper that breaks from your throat at having your one and only plan foiled so pathetically easily. “James,” you plead, “I didn’t—”

“Shh sh sh. None of that, now.” He’s speaking softly, sweetly, but he’s furious. He drags his lips over your cheek and the barrel of the gun you stole from him over the other. “So what was the plan? How were you going to kill me with my own gun? Pop upstairs and shoot up the nursery?”

“N-no.”

“Ah. Right. You’re smarter than that. You would’ve waited for me to come down and see what the fuck was taking you so long, or put it in the duffle and waited until we dropped the whelp off at the neighbors. Is that it?"

You sniffle and nod, angry at him for being such an all-knowing asshole. “You can’t hold that against me,” you say, trying to defend yourself.

He nods thoughtfully. “Hmm. Yes, I suppose you’re right. I can’t blame you for that.” Your shoulders start to relax, that is until he pulls back to glare at you and holds the gun to you again, this time pointing it right underneath your chin. He looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “But do you know what I can hold against you, Little thief?” Your face pinches in fear, sure that you’re about to be shot, and he digs the muzzle cruelly into your skin, forcing you to look at him. “The fact that that pup up there is ten months old, and I’ve never even fucking seen her.”

Your eyes widen as you realize: he knows. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but he beats you to it.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell she’s mine?”

“James,”

“All this time!” he hisses, hurt lancing through his features. “You kept her from me! What gives you the right?”

“I—I didn’t—”

He growls and pushes away from you, several steps back, glaring. “Nothing, is the answer you’re looking for. You had no right to do that.”

You try to edge to the side, but freeze when he straightens his arm and points the gun right at you. “James, wait …”

He aims it at your face, but then lowers it for a center mass shot, which is what really convinces you you’re about to die. “Say goodbye, mamochka,” he says, with steely eyes and his finger curling over the trigger.

It’s a submachine gun that fires in three shot bursts, or fully automatic. Either way, you know you’re about to be riddled with bullets, so you start to hyperventilate. It’s an embarrassing reaction, but at least you have the dignity of knowing what your last words on this earth would’ve been. “Don’t hurt her,” you gasp.

His eyes fill with rage and he pulls the trigger.

… Nothing happens, but you’re bracing so hard that it takes you a full two or three seconds to realize it. Then, when you do realize it, and you see James standing there looking grim but completely unsurprised that you haven’t been shot, all of the breath rushes out of your lungs. You feel like you’re about to faint, which is apparently what he’s waiting for.

He ejects the empty magazine, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really thought I’d do it, didn’t you?” He takes a step forward, but pauses when you flinch back. “What the hell have you convinced yourself that I am?”

You step back again when he moves. “Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t.”

“Don’t, don’t,” he whispers, mocking you. “Don’t what? Don’t take back what’s mine? The mother of my pup? A pup I didn’t get to see grow or come into this world?” Your breath hitches with emotion and he doesn’t miss it, the bastard. “Yeah,” he says darkly. “You robbed me of that. But I’ll get over it, don’t worry.” He leers up and down your body in its flimsy sundress. “I’ll be putting another one in you real soon.”

You see red. Fury sweeps through you and stings your eyes, roars in your ears. You grab the nearest thing to you, which is the edge of the utensils crock on the counter. It spills over and your hand closes around the handle of the meat mallet. You cry out and swing at him, wanting to smash his smug fucking face to smithereens.

“Woah-ho, easy there.” He laughs and takes a surprised step back, as though you’re nothing but a tantruming child. “Stop being so dramatic.”

You growl and lunge for him again, but cut off in a shriek as someone suddenly grabs you from behind. The meat mallet clatters to the floor as you’re hauled back against the hard body of another man. One big arm wraps around your middle, and the other holds a cloth up at your face, pressing it over your mouth. “Mmph!” you yell out, muffled, and get a huge inhale of chlorine-like smell into your lungs for your trouble. You hold your breath and thrash, but it’s less than useless. The person holding you is large and strong. When you try to headbutt him, it doesn't even clip his chin. You bring your hands up to try and claw at the hand holding the cloth over your mouth, but your nails meet metal instead of skin, and you gasp in another inhale of chemicals as you realize who it is. “Mmph!”

James steps up close, smirking fondly as he watches you fighting the urge to inhale. Eventually he tuts and reaches up to cup your cheek. “Shhh, omegechka. Stop. Stop fighting now. It’s all over.”

“Nngh!”

“Just take a deep breath and go to sleep. Everything’ll be alright, I promise. Just relax.” You whimper as you feel yourself running out of air, knowing that your body’s going to force you to draw breath in a second. James leans in and kisses your forehead tenderly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers, just as your vision starts to fade out, “or our daughter.”

The smell of professionally scented, circulating air hits you first, and then the taste of old pennies in your mouth. Then, a gradually increasing sense of awareness of your body in space and time. At first you think you're somewhere very bright, as colors and rainbows dance through your lashes, but the more you blink your eyes open, the more the brightness fades and your vision comes into focus.

And there he is: holding a crystal tumbler and looking like he's been waiting for you to come round. "Well hello there, Sleepyhead,” he says. “Welcome back." He takes a sip of whatever it is he’s drinking, the ice cubes clinking softly against the sides of the glass. He looks totally relaxed.

You sit up straighter in the seat where you’d been slumped, moving your tongue around inside of your dry mouth and trying to remember what happened. And then reality hits you in waves, each one more devastating than the last:

James—He found you.

June—She's not there.

"How're you feeling? Thirsty?"

You blink, dazed, a few lingering specks still floating at the edges of your vision. You look around the room you’re in, clocking your surroundings. Windows, cabin—Shit. You're already on a plane. Pressure builds rapidly at the backs of your eyes as you fight not to cry, thinking of your baby girl left behind, never getting to see her again.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Bucky’s eyes sharpen on you when your stifled sob breaks out and you throw a hand over your mouth. "Steve,” he says, still watching you in concern. “Get her a bottle of water."

“Sure thing, boss.”

And then the worst realization of all: You look over and see the winter fucking soldier walking down the aisle, holding your baby.

They've got June.

Your eyes widen and you make a distressed little ‘meep’ of a sound. “Steve!” you blurt, and he turns to face you. He looks surprised that you’ve spoken directly to him. He’s not wearing his usual black mask, but he still looks huge and intimidating, and it’s like seeing a wild animal right next to your baby—dangerous, wrong. Your mouth works uselessly as you stare at his hands on June’s body: one supporting her head, and the metal one scooped under her butt. You see her back rise and fall steadily through her bumblebee onesie and you realize that she’s asleep. “I-is she okay?” you ask, heart in your throat.

Steve’s eyes narrow at you, but he nods curtly. “She’s fine.”

Across from you, James scoffs, drawing your attention back to him. “He’s going to put her down. There’s a crib in the back. She’ll be fine,” he says, when he sees you stiffen in protest. “You and I have some catching up to do, vorishka.”

“I thought we did that back in my bedroom,” you snap.

“You still want the water?” Steve asks.

“That’s okay.” Bucky keeps his eyes on you. “I’ll take care of her. You just stay back there with pchelka while she sleeps.”

Steve nods, and you can’t help yourself. “Wait! Please. Please give her to me. Steve?” You sit forward with your arms outstretched, but can only watch helplessly as the other man obeys Bucky and ignores you, disappearing back into the next section of the plane. Bastard never did like you.

“She’ll be fine,” Bucky assures you. “Just sit back and relax. We won’t be in the air for too long.”

You hate it, but you do sit back in the chair. James won’t hurt her. You know that. Especially now that you know he knows. You look around the cabin, taking in the wide, leather seats and gleaming wood finishes. There’s a couch, tv, a bar. A fucking electric fireplace. It's the sort of luxury you used to go starry-eyed over; incredibly rich men, fat or old or ugly, tripping all over themselves to spoil you.

… Only, James was never any of those things.

“This is your plane?” you ask, dragging your hand over the arm of your seat.

James smirks. “What? You thought I’d kidnap you and then fly commercial?”

You purse your lips at his joke. “I guess not.” You relax back, trying to get your bearings. It is bad news that you’re already on a plane with him. You’ll be landing at his private airstrip at the Siberia compound, which gives you no middle ground to run. You bite your lip as your thoughts race and you try to think of anything you might be able to do once you get to—

“Stop it,” James says quietly, drawing your attention back to him. He’s giving you a stern look. “You barely got away before, and that was on your own. Now we’ve got our daughter. Anything you try will put her in unnecessary danger and you know that.” He shakes his head, some of that sadness from before creeping back into his eyes. “You’re not leaving me again, omegechka.”

“I’m not?” you echo, stuck in place by his stare, by the memories you share with him, and the fear you have of what he’s planning for your punishment. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m just taking back what’s mine, Sweetheart. You do realize that?” You fail to answer him and his gaze hardens just a little bit. “That’s okay. You’ll see it eventually. This isn’t a bad thing. If you had just stuck around a little longer instead of lying to me and running off, then you would’ve seen it before, and we wouldn’t have to be going through this right now.” He raises his drink to you in a little salute. “You, me, and pchelka? We’re going to be a family.”

You don’t refuse the water he gives you, or the drink that he mixes for you, after. If James wanted to keep you drugged up until reaching Siberia, he certainly could’ve done so without allowing you to wake up on the plane. You’re only conscious right now because he wants you to be. And because you know that, you don’t protest the drink he prepares for you over at the bar. To be honest, a stiff one actually sounds really good right about now.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he hands it over, still unmoored by this drastic shift in circumstances. A few hours ago you’d been safe in your cottage, then suddenly you weren’t. One minute you’re sure you’re about to get a bullet in the face from this man, and the next, he’s got you sipping thousand dollar vodka on his private jet, calmly explaining how he intends to keep you and force you into some twisted form of domestic bliss.

“I had a whole renovation done for her,” he tells you. “Pchelka will have plenty of room to play and grow.”

You frown, hating the idea of your daughter growing up in that cold, Siberian fortress. You don’t care if he’s bought her an indoor waterslide and a herd of ponies. It’s no place for a child. “What does that mean?” you ask grumpily. “That word: chelk—? You keep using it. You can’t just rename my daughter.”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, but he wipes it away fast. “Pchelka means little bee. The outfit you put her in has bees on it.”

“Oh … Right.” You love that set. It’d been another gift at the shower, from Hilde.

“And she’s my daughter too,” James says tightly.

You gulp at the bitterness in his tone, at his eyes boring into you with reproach. It’s silly, but you do feel bad about hurting him in this one way, at least. “Her name is June,” you offer quietly.

His face draws tight with emotion that’s impossible for you to decipher. Mostly you just sense hurt coming off of him, tingeing his scent and making it into something mournful and awful. He stares at you for a long time. “You made me think you’d lost it,” he eventually whispers. “How could you do that to me?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not. You’re just sorry that I found you.”

“I saw you kill people, James!” you cry. “I saw who you really are. I couldn’t stay. Not after that.”

His mouth ticks up at the corners. “Oh, Sweetheart. You’ve got no idea who I am, or what I’ve done for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes gleam and he lifts his drink, tipping back the last of it. “Do you even remember where we met?”

You frown. “Of course.” You’d met him on a yacht, off the coast of Greece. At a party you’d been paid to attend as one of a flock of similarly hired ‘pretty girls’. Five hundred bucks just to sit around and drink cocktails for a few hours and make whoever owned the yacht look like a successful playboy. James had taken one look at you and made it his mission to charm you off of that boat with him. And you’d fallen for it, hook line and sinker. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You don’t know as much as you think you do,” he says disdainfully. “Don’t know how lucky you really are. I saved you.”

You scoff. “You’re no different from those boat guys. You think you’re so special, God’s gift to omegas, I get it.”

“No,” he grits. “You really don’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t know! I know what I saw. All over the floor of your goddamn office. I slipped in it for Christ’s sake!”

“Right, right. The men you saw me kill,” he says, referencing the scene you’d walked in on just before you’d faked your miscarriage and fled. “You were eavesdropping outside the door, weren’t you, Little thief?”

You jut your chin out. “Yes. So what?”

“You know, I’d always assumed you heard the entire conversation. Now I realize I was wrong.”

“What?”

He laughs under his breath—at your expense, you suspect. “Who exactly do you think they were?”

“Your business associates. The same sort of underworld, black market scum as you. Only they didn't work for you. You screwed them over and they were there to collect what you owed them, and you murdered them instead.”

James scoffs and smiles angrily, sticking his tongue into his cheek as he looks away in frustration. "Figures," he mutters.

“What?” you snap. “You’re gonna deny it?”

“I’m not denying anything. But I killed them for you.”

“Oh please. Just stop it. Stop lying! I know what you do for work.”

Granted, you'd been a little slow on the uptake back then, too enamored and swept up in the whirlwind romance with your first Alpha that you hadn’t ever stopped to wonder where his money came from, or where it was he jetted off to “on business” every few days. It’d taken a year for you to piece it together, to see the true magnitude of the enterprise he ran, and how dark it really was.

Sitting in front of you now, he doesn’t deny it, which only bolsters your disdain for him. “I don’t want that in my life,” you hiss. “Arms dealing, drugs, smuggling, mercenaries. And apparently human trafficking as well.”

His eyes flash. “They don’t call it that, you know. It’s called the ‘skin trade’.”

“I don’t care.”

He gets up to go pour himself another drink at the bar. “Right,” he snaps, like you’re an idiot. “You’re so fucking naïve, krasotka [pretty (n.)]. So convinced that I’m the devil. But you have no idea how much worse it could’ve been for you.”

“You threatened to sell your own daughter before you figured out she was yours!”

Refusing to be provoked, he returns to stand right in front of you, forcing you to look up at him towering over you. “I knew she was mine from the second I walked in that house,” he says, making your breath catch.

“How?”

He smiles nastily and takes a sip from his drink, then sets it aside. He leans over you with his hands on the back of your seat, caging you in. You can smell the expensive alcohol on his breath as he gets in your face and tells you, “I put that baby in you, moya omegya. She’s a part of me. You think I wouldn’t be able to figure that out? Think an Alpha doesn’t know the scent of his own flesh and blood?”

You tense, fighting not to shrink away. “You’re making that up.”

He chuckles lowly and puts his face right next to yours, cheek to cheek, savoring your reaction. “Sweetheart,” he purrs, “I may not have forced a mating bite on you back then like I should have, but there are other ways to leave your mark on someone.” He dips in to kiss your neck, right over your unbitten glands. “I found you by your scent,” he whispers. “Sniffed you out.”

You shiver at his hot breath on your skin and the deadly soft tone of his voice. The way your body responds to him isn’t anything you can control, and he knows that, but it still makes you flush with embarrassment when he takes a deep inhale in the bend of your neck and hums with satisfaction when he smells the effect he’s had on you. “I wouldn’t have sold her anyway,” he tells you, pulling back and picking up his drink. “I want you to know that. I don’t participate in the skin trade.”

You swallow thickly, watching him watch you as he waits for you to react to him in some way. You don’t know why you believe him about this one thing, but you do. “But you’re aware of it,” you say. “You know it happens, and you don’t do anything to stop it.”

His jaw works in frustration. “I’ve interfered a time or two, when I could get away with it.”

“Well, aren't you a hero.”

“I didn’t say that,” he snaps. “I said I’ve done what little I could. These men make a lot of money dealing in omegas, and they don’t take kindly to being stolen from.”

“I can imagine.”

“No,” he mutters into his drink. “You really can’t.”

There’s something oddly bitter in his tone, like he's working hard not to tell you something. You bite your lip and watch him for a minute. “... How much?” you ask.

“What?” His eyes darken when he figures out what you’re asking. “No.”

“Tell me.”

“It depends,” he grits, glaring at you. "Now cut it out."

Sober, you might have; but half a vodka spritzer after nineteen months of no alcohol has you bolder than you usually would be. You look down at yourself, feigning flippancy. “Well what about me? How much would I go for?”

“Kotenok,” he warns lowly, growling when you continue to press him with a snotty little,

“Come on, I thought you were such a dangerous criminal? You can’t even discuss a little human trafficking with the weak omega you just trafficked?”

He probably knows you’re trying to antagonize him, but he still rises to the bait. He sits back and lets his eyes drag over your body in a way that makes your pulse pick up. “Well,” he drawls, “you just had a baby. So that’s less right there.” Your nostrils flare angrily and he gives you a look. “You’re the one who asked,” he reminds, waiting until you give him a nod to continue. He gives you another onceover, this time lingering in certain places longer, a softer look in his eyes for the softer parts of your body. He almost seems to get distracted. He catches himself overindulging and looks away, like it’s hurting him to consider you this way. “Most people want their omegas untouched,” he says quietly. “Especially if the buyer's alpha, which they usually are. It’s an instinctual thing for us. We’re very driven to possess. We don’t like to share.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you mutter.

His gaze snaps back to you, a painful amount of familiarity in his eyes. “You’dve been a couple million, back when we first met.”

Your eyes widen. You weren't expecting that. “But … I wasn’t even a virgin.”

He arches an eyebrow. “I said untouched, not virginal. Not in that way. Alpha buyers want unbonded and never bred, first and foremost.” He leers at you. “Not that there aren’t some who’ll pay a little extra to pop a girl’s cherry. But that’s not the main thing they’re looking for, when they buy.”

You scowl. “Right. So I guess I’m damaged goods now."

“Oh no, mamochka,” he says seriously. “You’ve only gone up in value in my eyes. Though believe me when I say I’m more than happy to contribute to the depletion of your market value." He raises his glass to his lips, looking darkly pleased. “You’re not for sale, and you never will be. You’re mine.”

You're embarrassed to be the one to break eye contact first, but you can’t keep listening to him talk about how much he likes you and watching him look at you like you’re his most prized possession. With any other man you’d just be disgusted, but James has always had a knack for getting you flustered, and he knows it. There’s always been an inexplicable pull between the two of you, and he knows that, too. It’s the main reason why you've always refused his attempts to bond you. You're terrified of what it’ll be like after, since you already know how pathetically helpless you are around him without a bond.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you mumble quietly. “Where is it?”

“Just down there.” He nods in the direction behind you, opposite from where Steve had gone with June.

You press your lips together and get up without looking at him, but you can feel his eyes on you the entire time you’re walking away.

“Don’t take too long in there, kotenok,” he purrs from back in his seat. “Or I’ll have to come in after you.”

In the bathroom, you splash water on your face and lean against the sink, looking at the girl staring back at you in the mirror. You blink, and she blinks, but it feels like you’re looking at another person, someone you don’t know. She looks fragile. Tired, and dazed. June’s been sleeping through the night for months, but it’s been a hell of a day.

You scrutinize your reflection, smoothing your dress and tucking your hair behind your ears, thinking about how you have zero makeup on. Then you scoff at yourself for caring what you look like in front of him. You think about how much you’ve changed in the seventeen months since you ran away. Not just physically, but mentally. You’ve had to be so strong. For June, for yourself. It’s been awful, and lonely, and you’ve hated yourself for not being able to stop missing him.

You sniffle and splash more water on your face, grumpily thinking that postpartum hormones are so much worse than the pregnancy ones. You grab the towel off the wall, but freeze when you bring it up to pat your face dry and get a smell of it.

Oh.

You whimper, unable to keep from pressing it harder to your mouth and nose and inhaling deeply. It’s James’ scent, and it smells so good. It smells like Safety and Love and Alpha. You hear the sound of your own, needy mewl and you gasp, yanking the towel away from your face and tossing it into the sink, trying to keep your shit together. You brace your hands on the counter and glare at your reflection to tell her to stop it, stop it, stop it, but all it takes is seeing your lower lip quiver, and soon your entire face is collapsing in long-repressed sadness. You turn away from the mirror with a pathetic noise, throat aching from the urge to keen.

Why does this have to be happening?! You’ve tried so hard, for so long. To be strong for June, to get over him, to move on! You bury your face in your hands and choke on a wrenching sob. You know you have to be quiet, have to stop, have to pull yourself together before he—

A soft knock comes from outside the bathroom. “Doll?”

You whine and hastily search for a lock on the door, but there is none, and James hears your crying and pulls the door open. “Honey,” he mourns when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You push past him, hurrying in the direction he isn’t blocking. “Leave me alone!” you cry, hating the blubbering in your voice that makes you sound just as weak as James thinks you are. You arrive in a perfectly made up bedroom with no point of egress other than the one you arrived through. You whine in distress, circle around helplessly, and then throw yourself onto the bed when he arrives at the doorway looking worried. “Leave me alone!” you cry, curling onto your side and pulling one of the pillows down to bury your face in. At least it isn’t suffused with James’ scent. You still cry though, unable to keep it in anymore now that you’ve started.

He tuts sadly from the doorway and comes into the room slowly. He stands there for a long minute, silent, before he sighs and his weight comes onto the bed. “Sweetheart,” he says.

“Just leave me alone,” you whine miserably. “Go away!”

“Shh sh sh.” He curls up behind you, arms around your waist and legs pushing in behind yours. He kisses your shoulder and hugs you, but it only makes you cry harder at how achingly familiar it is. “It’s okay,” he murmurs between kisses. He doesn’t try to get you to stop crying, or ask you what’s wrong. He seems to know exactly why you’re breaking down, and he simply devotes all his efforts to helping you calm down in your own time. “S’okay, s’okay. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he keeps saying, soothing you with a deep rumble in his chest. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart. I’ve got you now. It’s all gonna be okay. Shhh.”

At first, his placating makes you angry, but not enough to stop your crying, and once that tapers off from sobs to quiet, sniffling tears, you can’t seem to dredge up the anger anymore. It isn’t there.

“You feeling a little better?” he asks kindly, gently tucking your hair behind your ear and then hugging you again.

You whine when you feel his lips against your neck. “I’m fine,” you rasp, voice coming out scratchy from all of the crying. You cringe and scrub your face into the pillow in embarrassment. “Just got a little sad.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, giving you a supportive squeeze. “That’s okay.”

You hate how he says it, because it’s obvious that he knows why you were crying: Poor, sad little omega, bawling her eyes out over how much she’s missed her Alpha. He nuzzles into your neck, telling you it’s okay and that you’re allowed to cry. As much as you hate him being able to see into you so easily, you’re just grateful that he isn’t rubbing your face in it right now. The way he's holding you and comforting you feels good. You don’t fight to get away from him.

The two of you lie there together for what feels like a long time. Once you’ve stopped crying and are only giving the occasional sniffle for your runny nose, he goes back to running his hand over your side. It’s a gesture of comfort. He’s not groping you, but even still, you blush at the vulnerability of it. You find yourself glad that you’re facing away from him.

The plane shifts noticeably, and James’ hand pauses on your hip. “Pilot said we’re landing soon,” he murmurs. “Should probably go and get pchelka up.”

You sniffle and fight off the urge of resurfacing tears at hearing him reference June. One day of knowing his daughter and already he’s got a nickname for her. You should be annoyed by that, but instead it just makes your heart squeeze with emotion. “Pchelka,” you whisper, trying out the word.

“Yeah.” He hums happily and kisses your shoulder one last time. “Little bee. Come on. Let’s go.”

You don’t think about how it’s far too soon to have arrived at your destination, until you’re back in the main room of the cabin on the way to where Steve disappeared with June, earlier. You pause at the windows, peering out at the landscape. “This isn’t Russia,” you say, confused. The plane is definitely descending, but you’ve only been in the air for a few hours at most. “James?” you ask, as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Together, you both look out at the looming mountains and turquoise waters below. “Where are we?” you breathe.

James rests his chin on your shoulder and sighs happily. “Home,” he says. “We’re home.”

A.N.: See? Much less Rapey! Plenty more mega-dub con to come though, so don't you angst-lovers worry. Thanks for reading!💖Sarah

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shadeysprings · 8 months

Text

YOU

—Art Collector!Steve Kemp x F!Reader

Summary — Your unexpected meeting with the famous art collector takes a dark turn when you learn the secret of his private collection.

Warnings — oral (female receiving), dismembered bodies, disrespect to the dead, entrapment, plots of killing, serial killer vibes, Steve being a calm psycho. There may be more I haven't mentioned but please read with caution.

Word Count — 5.4K

A/N — Story #1 for my FREAKtober Fest. The fic was heavily inspired by the movie itself and House of Wax. I'm happy to finally explore Steve's character in writing and I must say, I enjoyed every bit of it. The title was taken from the song You.

Gif by the amazing @steve-kemp

Shout out to @vellicore and @sgt-seabass for bouncing ideas with me and being my beta.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

They didn’t come.

It was all you could think about as almost 2 hours had passed since your grad show started. Despite your parents’ — mostly your mom’s — disapproval of pursuing an arts program, you still invited them to the show. You hoped that if they saw what you were truly doing, they would understand your passion for paints and charcoal.

But it was a long shot, and you knew that. Though at least you tried…right?

You envy your classmates who carry bouquets while they present their artwork to their families and strangers alike. You were lucky enough to have a few come by your cubicle, delighted to explain the medium and process of your work. Some seemed genuinely intrigued while others, you can tell, only came by and endured your talk for the free stickers you offered at the end of your spiels.

Another hour passes by and you look up front when you hear an announcement being made by your instructor; a class photo. You’re reluctant to join, seeing no value in such a thing to be done as it’s obvious that once the day ends, they will be strangers once again. But another adamant call from your instructor has you heading to the front, a frown forming on your face when you’re pushed at the back, towered by your classmates—unseen once more.

As parents and several others grab the opportunity to take a photo, your eyes suddenly divert back to your cubicle when you see someone looking over at your main art piece. You can’t put a pin on his face but you know you’ve seen him before.

Once the group photo has ended, you immediately head back to your spot, catching the familiar stranger taking one of your stickers as well as a business card that sits beside it. It’s when you finally recognize him—and you’re in utter shock that he would be looking at your work. He finally notices you, a smile on his face as he holds out his hand.

“Hi.” He begins, “I’m—”

“You’re Steve Kemp.” You finish for him, the confidence you suddenly displayed startling the both of you. But you push on when you see a smile of amusement on his face, taking his hand to shake. “You’re the famous art collector.” You wouldn’t have known it was him with how dressed down he looked with the corduroy jacket and navy jeans, but you’ve seen his face several times in art articles that you wouldn’t miss it.

“I wouldn’t say I’m famous.” He humbles himself but he lacks the conviction to make it believable. “I think I’m just skilled in finding pretty things—like this one.” He gestures towards your charcoal painting, the look of interest evident on his face. “What compelled you to incorporate a whale and an astronaut? What’s the story behind it?”

His question makes you smile. Maybe he is interested, you think to yourself and look towards your artwork before diving deep into your answer.

“The artwork was inspired by the 52 Hertz Whale.” You begin. “Just to give you a little background; out of all the whale species, it’s the only one that makes a call with such a distinct pitch. Researchers had guessed that it could be a hybrid of two whale species but any attempts to search for the creature for further study have failed. Though some have been saying that it’s not a whale but an entirely different animal.

“Loneliness was the main theme of the piece—just like the whale, if it truly exists, it is alone in the vast sea; with no family to call its own and with it being different from the others, no one would listen or understand their cries. Akin to the lonely astronaut floating in the endless void of space. Though the flowers and the seagull represent hope and freedom—that one day, everything they thought to be true would change, that someone is there to listen and welcome them in their arms.”

You feel yourself shiver and your heart race as you end your interpretation. How the art piece truly mirrors your life and your cry for recognition from the people who truly matter. You try your best not to shed the tears that well in your eyes, presenting the collector with a smile and hoping he sees it as passion and confidence.

But the look on his face startles you; there’s no judgment but you see a hint of amusement in his sapphire eyes. You think he’s about to say something, to comment on what you said, instead, he looks back at the artwork, seemingly appraising it.

“How much?” The question stuns you. Did you hear correctly?

“I’m sorry?”

“I want to buy your art piece.” He expounds. “How much are you selling it for?”

That’s the last thing you expected to be asked in a college grad show. Was he seriously wanting to purchase it? You try to answer, to tell him that you’re not really looking for buyers nor expecting to sell any of your work but no words come out of your mouth, still taken aback by his surprising inquiry.

“I don’t—” You stutter. “I’m not really—”

The chuckle he makes has you pulling on the cuffs of your oversized flannel, feeling slightly anxious at the thought that he’s making fun of your state of shock. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He says with a smile, one that you mimic if only to ease the tension building within you. “But I am serious. I do want to buy it.”

Still, you don’t know what to say. Do you just give him an amount and call it a day?

“Why don’t you sit on it? Let’s say two days and I can give you a call for your price.” He holds up your business card between two fingers, the smile on his face turning into a playful smirk. “What do you say?”

Under-dressed.

Not that it was a concern you realistically should have but the patrons of the bar made you feel as such with the men clad in suit jackets and the women, either in dresses or whatever you call the style of attire that was classier than your hoodie-jeans-sneakers combo. At least you brought a coat—that’s fancy enough, right?

You nurse your Bellini cocktail and thumb through your phone while waiting for Steve, popping your conversation thread with him every second or two just to assure yourself that he confirmed, or rather, planned the night of drinks to discuss your “Lonely Whale” piece as he coined it. It seemed odd at first but his determination was what compelled you to agree to meet him.

The hiss of the straw fills your ears as you suck the last dregs of your drink. You shouldn’t have come early, you tell yourself, then you wouldn’t need to order another glass to accompany you on your wait.

“Need a top-up?” A familiar voice from behind startles you and you look up to see Steve, decorated in a maroon wool sweater and that tantalizing smile he seems to always have. “I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad coming here to this part of town.” He says as he takes a seat beside you in the booth.

You scoot over to give him room, surprised that he didn’t take the one across from you. “Please, don’t be sorry. I wasn’t waiting long.” You assure him with a soft smile, tapping a finger on the rim of your glass. “The drink kept me company.”

“Are they any good?” He asks but he’s already called the attention of a server before you can even reply. He orders a Bloody Mary—quite peculiar, you think, but you’re not one to judge someone's preference. “And the lady will have another, please.”

Silence envelops the both of you as you wait for the drinks to arrive, feeling shy and anxious when he rests his arm against the back of the booth and turns in his seat to face you. You’re not used to being seen yet here’s this man, well-known in the field you didn’t think to excel in giving you such unwarranted attention.

“Uhmm, so I asked my instructor about the painting,” you begin as you try to break the ice, “and he said that—” but stop when he shakes his head and lets out a gentle laugh.

You think he’s playing at your lack of knowledge of these types of transactions that it makes you second-guess your words. Maybe you should have come off more confident and prevented showing him an inkling of your cluelessness. But the smile he sends your way speaks of something different. There is no presence of ill-intent yet you still keep your guard up.

“We can talk business later. I’d like to get to know the artist more first.” He says and for some reason, it could be how comfortable he seems to be around you, that you nod at his request, a soft smile forming on your lips.

“Well, what do you want to know?”

Giggling.

It’s been a while since you’ve done it but you guess after 4 glasses of the Bellini and a sip of his Bloody Mary, anyone would be in a lighter and more carefree mood. Just like how you are.

The anxiety that filled you when you first walked into the bar seems non-existent with how well Steve carries a conversation. He listened to you complain and laughed at your sarcastic comments, throwing back another to keep the exchange alive. There was no dull moment to be recorded, only understanding when you shared the struggle of an art student living in a fast-paced environment. He’s probably the first person in your life who knows almost everything there is to know about you and even if he is a total stranger, he feels more familiar than any other.

The night rolls by quicker than you’d hoped and the next thing you know you’re in his car, the alcohol messing with you as you begin belting out garbled lyrics to an Adele song. You’ve never felt so free and relaxed, and who would have thought you’d find it in someone who simply wants to buy your art project?

You arrive shortly at your apartment building, a curious thought passing through your head as you don’t recall typing in your address in the GPS. But it goes just as quickly as it came when the passenger door is opened and Steve holds out a hand to help you out.

He says your name, the syllables rolling like honey on his tongue and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the way the moon shines against his face, but you truly notice how his sapphire eyes glow brighter with how close he stands to you, his cologne permeating your senses and his warmth mixing with yours, keeping away the cold autumn breeze of the night that surrounds the both of you.

“I had a lovely evening.” He breathes, allowing him to take your hand in his. “And I don’t want it to end just yet.”

And it doesn’t.

You invite Steve into your apartment for coffee, something to help completely sober him up and drive home safe. But as soon as you close the door and toe off your shoes, his hands are on your face and his lips capture yours, a soft grunt escaping you when he presses you against the door. You’re too stunned to process that he’s kissing you, only finally realizing it when he breaks the kiss and looks at you with his eyes so blue.

You think he’s about to speak, to apologize for his forwardness, but instead he smiles while his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek. You don’t understand what he sees in you to warrant such soft affection, or to even consider you as someone to kiss.

He leans closer once more, this time you sense the apprehension in his movements and with the way his eyes linger on your face. You shut your brain off completely, not wanting reason and rationality to stop whatever force that was pulling you together. So you meet him halfway, hands resting against his chest when you press your lips against his, a moan escaping you as when you feel him pull you further into the kiss.

To say he was a good kisser was an understatement with the way his wet muscle caressed your own and how his lips wrestle you into a passionate exchange. He chuckles when he bumps against a side table while walking backwards, blindly into the living room, hands pawing at each other, groping, touching, and you lift up his sweater as the desire to feel his skin blooms in your head.

But he doesn’t give you that chance as you drop back onto your loveseat couch, Steve’s hands pushing up your hoodie to expose the tank top hidden within. His fingers tickle your skin, teasing, taunting, and in one swift move he pulls down the cups of your bra having your tits spill out from them.

Mewls and moans are the only sounds that leave your lips, coherent words nonexistent with how his lips wrap around a mound, sucking, licking, and dampening the fabric to expose your stiff nipples which he gives his undivided attention to. You try to reach for him, to at least make sure that this is all real and not a dream, but his hands take yours, preventing you from even running your finger through his dark hair, the act only heightening your senses further.

But his venture to your breasts eventually stops and you look down at him when he trails butterfly kisses against your stomach, hands releasing yours only to undo the button and fly of your jeans. The garment flies but your panties stay, and you swear you could almost combust just from the way he looks at you—his eyes swirling with hunger, eagerness, and desperation for a taste.

Slowly, he trails kisses against your inner thighs, lips, and teeth meeting skin, not hard enough to hurt but enough to feel. The nervousness swirls around you like twine, making your heart beat loudly against your chest as everything feels too new, too alien, despite this no longer being your first. But you’ve never encountered anyone as captivating as Steve and you feel as if he would run away once he sees you completely.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers into the air, his warm breath grazing against your heated core.

It’s only then you comprehend what he’s done, your panties pushed to the side to expose you completely before him and all at once you feel your body burn when he laves his tongue against your pussy lips, gentle at first, testing the waters which shift to intent as he pushes them apart with his fingers, your sacred bud caressed by his expert tongue.

You whisper his name as he begins delving into your pussy, strong hands keeping your thighs apart and pushing them down against the couch with his groans of pleasure filling your ears and fueling your desire for him. You reach down to run your fingers through his hair which you end up grabbing as a gasp is pulled from your lungs when he begins to suck your clit.

The room feels like it's spinning with the ecstasy that climbs higher within your body, your senses no longer feeling like your own as Steve pushes on with his pursuit, his mouth dancing beautifully against your clit, his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. But he stops, and a small wave of panic arises in your chest. Though it washes away like footprints on the sand when he ventures lower, his thumb taking purchase of your clit, rolling and adding pressure while his mouth ventures lower, teasing your slit at first before slowly pushing inside.

Oh, how your body sings. Your back arches from the coach and you call out his name, louder this time, turning into a moaning mess as his regard to your cunt never wavers. You then feel the dam filling up at the pit of your stomach and all you can do is buck your hips against his mouth, encouraging—no—pushing him to pull you over the edge.

“Steve—” It’s all you manage to say, your breath catching in your throat.

His actions then become erratic, as if he can feel you teetering towards your peak, pulling you more to his mouth and devouring you whole. Sloppy, wet sounds of his mouth echo from below your waist, Steve letting out a low and guttural growl which only sets you ablaze. His thumb pushes more onto your clit, the pressure digging into your pelvis and finally having the dam at the pit of your abdomen burst.

Your body shakes and you grab onto Steve as your pussy walls flutter from your release, choking a sob as your sweet essence flows out of you. His awaiting mouth then laps each and every drop you offer, the sensation making you shiver yet at the same time cocoons you in euphoric bliss.

The alcohol in your system then appears, mixing with the pleasure that continues to loom around you, and your eyes begin to droop, a smile forming on your lips. Your limbs ache deliciously, cunt buzzing from the orgasm that has taken over. You feel tired all of a sudden but happy at the same time and you forget all, even Steve, as you’re ready to end the night with such a good note.

But a tap on your thigh pulls you from the serene moment, startling slightly to see Steve looking down at you with a grin painted on his face. “Stay awake, Baby.” He says, his hand running up your side and grabbing the hem of your hoodie. “I’m not yet done with you.”

Nervous.

It’s all you feel as you stand outside of Steve’s home—if you could even call it that. With the modern exterior and floor-to-ceiling windows of the one-story home, you’d think you’re about to enter a museum. But it’s only reasonable for him to have such a lavish abode; he is an art collector after all.

“You okay?” You turn your head to the side to face him when he stands beside you, his warmth brushing against your skin as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.

“A bit—but more excited really.” You tell him, the giddiness of seeing his private collection dominating the restlessness you felt earlier.

“Only the people who matter have seen it.” The smile he gives you is so contagious that you give one back and follow him inside his home.

After the night spent at your apartment, your life slowly revolved around Steve. Mornings begin and nights end with him and his attentiveness—one that you found more endearing than suffocating, as what some people you assume would say if they knew of your relationship.

You don’t even know if you both have a relationship as neither of you discussed anything about labels, simply enjoying each other’s company. But you know that Steve has rooted himself deep in you, and you know that no matter how hard you try if anything comes that would sever you both, you’d have a hard time letting him go. Steve is the only one who has truly seen you and accepted you as you are.

A chill brushes your skin when you pass through the threshold of his home which has you pulling your knitted jacket more around your frame for warmth, and the first thing you see are the gallery lights mounted on the wall, with each one shining down on art pieces of different forms. The ones that stand by the door are wax figures of a woman’s pair of legs, one on each side. You look at it closely, the craftsmanship so intricate that you’d think it was real. The ones that come after it are different sets of arms and hands of women, again, each one posed differently and elegantly, as if welcoming you further down the hall.

It gives you pause with how unusual of a collection it is—women’s body parts—but you suppose that the world of art is filled with oddities. There was even one you heard who collects glass eyeballs, not caring if it was worn or not.

What greets you next are several paintings—if you can even call it as such—that litter the wall just the same, though you’ve never seen anything like it; one is of a canvas that houses different strands of hair that form into waves. You’re in awe with how they mimic the raging seas and how detailed and time consuming it must have been to complete. There’s even an image of a boat topped over it, as you inspect closely, you assume is made of leather.

There’s another like it, though this seemed more like a showcase of all types of tresses, spaced out perfectly in rows of five. Each one portrayed a distinct person, with colors ranging from blonde to black and textures from curly to the straightest you’ve seen. The urge to touch it grows strong, wanting to check if they’re real or not.

“They’re real,” Steve answers your unspoken question, and you turn back to face him, feeling shy all of a sudden when you see him staring at you. “I call it live art.”

“You made this?”

“Oh, no.” He smiles as he nears the artwork, Steve’s hands tucked inside his pockets while he looks up at it. “I had it made. Though I did provide the materials—volunteers donated the hair.” His explanation has you thinking; you never knew people would donate something so personal for art. “I’m hoping to add more to the collection—a prized one that can be my center of attention.” He says and you catch him looking at you from your periphery.

“What kind of prized piece?” You ask, curiosity nipping at the back of your head.

“Something I could never get tired of looking at.” The smile he gives you sends a chill up your spine but your mind flows out into a daze when he steps forward and takes your face between his hands, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss. “Like you.” He whispers and you can’t help but feel your face heat up with how beautiful he makes you feel.

“Come on. There’s more in the living room and I wanted to show you where I would place your painting.” He says, giving you one last kiss before taking your hand and leading further inside. But you don’t miss the piece that sits just at the end of the hall; a torso of a woman, the composition almost similar to Alexndros’ Venus de Milo, except this one was missing its head.

The living room is a sunken living room and it’s just as exquisite as the front of the house with paintings and figurines scattered in an organized fashion. Two couches sit on either side of a low table with a small cart that holds an array of spirits. You look around, mesmerized at the beauty he keeps within but stop when you notice a small greek style column sitting in the corner of the room.

“What’s that?” You ask, pointing at the unusual fixture.

“That’s just a chair a friend of mine made.” He responds while pouring the both of you some drinks. “It’s pretty cozy even if it’s made out of stone. Why don’t you try it out? Pretend you’re an art piece.” He urges and the giddiness you feel allows you to humor him.

Soft jazz music then begins to play as you run your hand against the top, having a feel of the material before you take a seat, grabbing onto the sides to properly set yourself on top of it. The smile you catch on Steve’s face is wide as he approaches you and hands you your drink, his hand reaching up to caress your face.

“You look perfect on it.” He sips on his drink and so do you.

You can’t help but look at his eyes, how soft they look yet full of amidst the muted lighting that surrounds the both of you. You feel his hands continue to linger on your skin, resting gently on your shoulder with his thumb caressing the expanse of your neck.

“Dance with me.”

It’s all he says and you don’t have time to respond when he takes the glass from your grasp, setting both of them on the shelf that stands nearby and he reaches for you, his hands taking yours and placing them over his shoulders while his own finds purchase around your waist.

It feels like you’re walking on clouds with how he sways the both of you, his movements in sync with the music that fills the air. He holds you close, feeling his fingers drumming lightly on your back and how your feet follow him aimlessly, blindly with each step he makes. You’re suddenly aware of the intimacy that slowly winds the both of you, much different from the times he’s slept on your bed, and you feel shy, eyes casting down to stare at the edge of his navy turtleneck.

“Don’t hide from me, Baby,” He breathes softly, tilting your head back when he pinches your chin and feeling the warmth of his breath ghost against your lips. “I want to see you.”

Giddy.

It’s the only feeling you describe as soon as you wake up, your body sore but in a good way and the sheets atop the mattress warm, not just because of you but from the man that sleeps soundly at your side. You turn to face Steve and examine his face, his beautiful pointed nose and his dark hair askew from the pillow underneath his head.

You couldn’t believe your luck that someone like him would find interest in someone like you. You must have done something good in your previous life to feel such happiness that the neglect and disapproval you once received from the people you expected to love you is being provided by someone you’ve barely known for a week.

Good things come to an end, you hear the pessimist in you say but you push it down, deep down where you cannot hear its cry. You’re going to enjoy this, whatever this is, and if time comes that it should indeed come to a stop—well, you’ll cross the bridge when you get there.

You move to cuddle closer to Steve, wanting to feel more of his warmth but it’s interrupted by your need for relief that you settle on placing a kiss on his forehead before turning to leave the bed and find the restroom.

Washing your hands when you finish, you find a robe hanging at the back of the door and boldly take it, putting it around you to shield you from the cold that continues to circulate within the house and venture back to his room—back to Steve’s arms. Except the lone light that shines in the darkness catches your eyes and you glance towards the bedroom. You don’t want to be caught snooping but the call of the void is too strong for you to ignore.

Silently, you pad down the hall and find yourself face to face with a staircase that leads to a closed door. Must be the basement, you think to yourself, taking one step at a time, you descend to your destination. You hesitate to hold the knob, not wanting to spoil your welcome but you soldier on, pushing through the barrier.

A row of yellow muted light illuminates the entryway, and you see nothing but several black barrels neatly pushed against the wall and a few scrubs hanging from mounted hooks. You thought you would see more artwork but are left disappointed, deciding to turn back but the white light at the end of the room stops you, curiosity once more taking over your senses.

Fear then grips you tight when you step into the light, hands flying to your mouth and a gasp unwillingly escaping you when you see a woman laid down on a metal table with her lower half missing and her head free of her scalp. What hangs on the wall makes your stomach turn even further, body parts—arms, legs and a severed head coated in something you can only assume to be wax.

You run. Your heart beats hard against your chest as you make it back again to the door and close it as quietly as you can, not wanting to awaken your host—a monster you never thought him to be. Carefully, though quickly, you climb the steps and the only thing you could think of is to leave and run as far as you can where he cannot find you.

Relief slowly washes over you when you get to the last step. Now all you have to do is go—call the authorities and—your thoughts take a dive when you feel someone grab you by the waist, trapping your arms along with it and a hand covering over your mouth as well as your nose.

“Where were you, Baby?” Steve’s calm voice forms from behind and your panic only rises further. You struggle against his hold, flailing as much as you can for him to let you go but he’s too strong and you feel the tears spill from your eyes as you think that this is the end. He’s caught you. You’re going to die.

“You never should have seen that.” He simply says and you grunt when a stabbing pain forms on your neck, a cool sensation flowing through your veins.

It’s then that he lets you go, your hand flying to where you felt the sting before turning to look at him. What did he do to you? You notice the syringe in his hand. Is it poison? Your vision almost instantly goes blurry, your limbs heavy and you drop to the floor, eyes cast to the ceiling as you try to make out your current state. The last thing you see is Steve, a sinister smile on his face and incoherent words coming from his lips before everything goes dark.

You’re dead.

It’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you come to. Everything slowly comes into clarity; the room you’re in is somewhere you’ve not been and the cool metal you feel around your ankle only solidifies the fact that he’s successfully trapped you in the hell he dwells in.

A door opens and closes and you curl up small on the bed you lay in to hide yourself from him. You’re crying once again a multitude of emotions surge from within—is it fear? Hopelessness? Anger? Towards him for lying to you or to yourself for believing him.

“I never wanted you to find out this way.” He sighs. “I never wanted you to find out at all.”

“Are you going to kill me?” You can’t help but ask, even though you know what the answer is.

“Not yet.” His calm in his voice brings a chill to your spine. “Despite what you believe, I meant what I said; you matter to—”

“Stop lying to me!” You shout and sit up from the bed, grabbing the pillow on the bed and throwing it at him. “Why are you doing this?! What did I do to deserve this?! Why me?!” You shout, the anger that was settling in your bones turns into a raging fire. You go to lunge for him, wanting to rip his skin with your bare hands but the cuff on your foot stops you, making you fall to the ground in front of him.

He tuts and you see his leather shoes in front of you. A groan then leaves your tongue when he grabs you by your face, your hand taking hold of his wrist as you try to pull away from him. But he only pinches tighter, making you shout in pain that fades all too quickly when he shakes you and makes you face him dead in the eyes.

“The more you fight, the harder it’ll be.” He snips. “I enjoy you a lot—don’t make me kill you so soon.”

“Just fucking do it!” You spit. “Do it! Kill me now!”

The laugh he gives you is menacing. He shakes his head, his other hand moving to run his finger on the side of your face. You see the darkness swirling around the sapphires of his eyes and you question yourself why, for the many times he’s stared at you, you’ve never seen it before.

“Soon.” He promises. “For now, I’ll keep you. I don’t mind that column being empty just a little longer.”

#steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #steve kemp x f!reader #dark steve kemp #dark!steve kemp #you #fresh #fresh the movie #sebastian stan characters #dark fic #horror fic #beanie's freaktober fest #freaktober fest #shadeysprings fics

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georgiapeach30513 · 3 months

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Your Mark On Me, Part 12

Summary: You and Bucky are in love, and Bucky has to talk to Steve.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, depictions of PTSD/panic attack, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of drug abuse, soft!Bucky, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, mentions of street life, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 6.4K

Series Masterlist

A/N: this part does dive into Shy's past with her father, and we learn about Dove's sister. It can be a bit dark. Read ALL warnings, and if you feel it's too much for you, I don't apologize. This story was always going to be dark.

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

*Bucky edits by @nixakimbo

There’s a comfort with living here with Bucky and Alpine. You’re able to relax, not fully, but you are getting there. Alpine definitely helps. Bucky. You want to let him in as easy as he let you in, but you just can’t. You could sit and listen to him talk, but don’t want to talk about your life just yet.

You want to, and then you don’t. You need to, but you just can’t. He is giving you so much of himself, including a place to live. Refusing to even take money from you. You weren’t poor, in fact you had done well with your books. That ugly piece of shit house had insurance, so yay for that.

But Bucky. He’s a mystery to you like all men. You know you shouldn’t, but you compare them all to your father. It’s why you wrote; you want to make stories of men that were good, honest, and didn’t have crippling and poor coping mechanisms. Bucky didn’t seem like that. In fact he gave you just enough distance, and you craved him more.

Was crave even the right word? You dream of him. Wished he would close the gap a bit more so you could count the colors of blue in his eyes. Had a desire to snoop in his room just so you knew what cologne he wore or if that scent was purely Bucky.

Why did he haunt your thoughts? Your newest male character was Bucky. Down to the cleft in his chin. The very dimple you longed to poke a finger in, hoping to bring a smile big enough to make the faint dimples appear on his cheeks. You liked when you could get that to happen.

Why couldn’t you be more comfortable with him? Why couldn’t you just speak more than a few words? Every evening he even asked if he was talking too much, and you’d respond by shaking your head no. You’d never been given much of a voice in your home, yet another reason you wrote. Your writing gave you that voice. Those moments to say what you wanted, even if it was fiction. There is always a bit of truth in the midst of fantasy.

If you could have made the perfect man, it would be Bucky. He is handsome without question, but his patience astounded you. He never once raised his voice. He saw you look in the fridge at the beer for too long, and the next day the beer was gone. You still haven’t found remnants of even beer garbage. He watched you curiously as you traced your finger along the walls, asking what you were doing. “They’re spotless.”

There aren't burns, dents, or ripped out wiring in his home. It is fascinating that there was a man that could no doubt live in a world of turmoil and danger, and yet his home is a safe haven for him, you, and even the cute little kitty that snuggled up to you every night.

Alpine is a godsend to you. She followed you around like a lost puppy, well cat. When Bucky came home, she would stand between the two of you, making sure there was a safe distance, but that you could hear her purring. You liked her purring. When she greeted her dad, Bucky would look at you but you kept your eyes trained on Alpine. Only random looks would move up to him. You were a puzzle that he couldn’t quite put together, but he knew once he did that you would be beautiful, even if there were missing pieces.

You kiss the top of Alpine’s head as you allow yourself to drift off to sleep. Sleep still scared you, and you found yourself panting and in a puddle of sweat almost every night, so far you’d been able to keep it within the four walls of your bedroom. “Goodnight, sweet girl. Keep us all safe.”

Sleep was always fraught with dreams that transformed into nightmares. Dreams of how you wished your life with your father was, but morphing into nightmares of how you viewed things with the eyes of you as a little girl. Parties that would get too loud, and your father would start cussing and pushing everyone around before they’d leave.

Parties where he would pass out early, and you’d have to hide in the closet as people would have sex in your bed. You’d sit in the corner of your closet with your fingers in your ears and tears running down your face as you try to block out the noises just a few feet away. You got smarter as you got older, but their gazes would follow you if you wanted food or to go to the bathroom.

Those slobs begged for the days that your father would pass out and they would beat on your door. They never made it in there with you, but their lingering eyes and words to each other was enough for you to swallow bile on more than one occasion.

Your nightmares held the fights that you had with your dad. When he’d drunkenly throw whatever he could get his hands on at you, or punch walls. Even ripping the phone off the wall because the sound of it annoyed him. How many fires had you put out because his disgusting self fell asleep with a cigarette.

This dream is your worst. His ghost is chasing you around the fire that you started on purpose. Letting you know that you would never get rid of him. His voice would be in your ear for the rest of your life, and would even haunt your children. You would never know peace because you were the reason his wife was dead. It’s what you deserved.

His voice repeats ‘It’s what you deserved’ over and over again. Marking itself in your very soul, until you believed that no good could come into your life because you didn’t deserve it. You deserved to live a miserable and loveless life like he did because it was your fault, and you deserved every bit of suffering that ever came in your life.

“No! Nonononono!”

“Hey,” Bucky whispers into your ear, giving your body a light shake. “Hey, come back to me.”

“You’re a liar!” You shoot up in the bed, and see his face trying to touch you. “Stop touching me! Don’t touch me. You’re wrong! You’re always wrong!” Your arms swing at him a few times and he starts to step back with his arms up in surrender, “I don’t want you to touch me!”

“It’s me, Bucky,” your body freezes, but your eyes blink a few times as he comes into clear view. Bucky isn’t your father, and your father isn’t Bucky. “I can leave.”

“No!” You should have let him. Why did you stop him? What is it that you want? “I don’t want to be alone. I’m always alone because he isolated me. I’ve never had a friend, and I don’t want to be him. I don’t want to blame everyone for my problems. I don’t want to be without…touch.”

You extend a shaky hand out to Bucky. Who are you? You didn’t want touch, you wanted to be left alone. Bucky’s head twists to the side as he looks at your trembling hand. His eyes move down to Alpine who is on your lap, and ready to pounce. She never took a defensive approach towards Bucky, “Can I hold your hand?”

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully for the first time. You wanted him to touch your hand, and you wanted him to go away. Conflicting emotions were complicated.

“How about I hold my hand here?” He holds his hand straight out to yours barely an inch between you, and you close the space and press yours against his. Your fingers look so small compared to his. You bet he could play the piano beautifully. He has long lithe fingers that you wanted to weave yours into his.

His rings are cold against your skin. They were menacing to so many people, but to you they just looked like Bucky. You look up at him and start laughing. Laughing so hard that tears spring to your eyes. This is what crazy is, you just know it. He was going to walk away from you, and you’d never see him again.

Your hand just looked so tiny against his. Holding up your other hand, Bucky meets it with his metal hand, and you can’t stop yourself from weaving all ten of your fingers with his, continuing to laugh. He doesn’t retreat, his mouth just turns up into a crooked grin before he laughs with you.

“Are you okay?”

“I gotta break the cycle,” you laugh even harder, and aren’t sure why. Was this the mental break you assumed would eventually find you? If this was a mental break, you’d take it. You had no desire for alcohol. Didn’t want to turn to drugs. The only thing you wanted was to know that Bucky is smiling, and you wanted to keep learning all about him.

“You are. You’re breaking the cycle,” he answers with so much certainty that it cuts the air off from your lungs. Your laughing stops as soon as it had started, and he smiles as he sits down beside you. “You got yourself a little guard cat. Alpine, I don’t want to hurt her. Are you okay with me here?”

“Actually, yes. I hate men,” his mouth tightens as he watches you. “They’re thoughts of defiling a woman are so evidently clear in the way that they ogle you, and…the things they say.”

“Has anyone ever…”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’m not just saying that to avoid a trauma talk. It wasn’t without trying, but no. Not like that. Not sexually,” Bucky takes the abrupt finish as you wanting to move on past this talk. And yet you’re still looking at him, and opening up.

“Your father?”

“He was a mean drunk, and can we leave it at that?” Bucky gives you a head nod in response. He wouldn’t dig, he never did. “Thank you. I just…I don’t want to be alone anymore. Not in my life, and not in here,” you point at your head as you study his eyes. How were there so many shades of blue? “I’ve never really lived before. Had friends, but as soon as we got close, I’d push them away, and they’d give up on me. Bucky, if I push…don’t give up on me?”

“I’ve devoted a lot of time to you. I don’t want to give up. I always see things through.”

“Thank you,” two words have never held so much power for you before. You could never thank Bucky enough for the things he’s done, but mostly for the things he just said. Everyone with their good intentions always gave up on you. You couldn’t blame them. There’s only so many times that you push someone away that they give up on trying.

You bump your hip into Bucky’s as you look up at him with a genuine smile. Dates. You have been on six of them now, and he is still as much of a gentleman as he was the night he brought you home with him. The man slept in the bed with you, and still wouldn’t initiate anything. And heaven forbid if the two of you kissed at home. It’s like he had a timer that went off, and he would pull back.

“Bucky!”

“What is it?” His silvery blue eyes look down at you. His lips pull up with a smirk. He knew. He knew exactly what you wanted, and you were trying to get his attention.

“You know!”

“Just tell me then. Use your words, and tell me explicitly what you want,” it sounded like a bigger invitation than what you were wanting at this moment. What you wanted when you got home was entirely different. “Shy?”

Your fingers tickle along his as you will him to grab ahold of your hand. “My sweet little Shy Violet, all you have to do is use those words that I know you have.”

“Well…aren’t you my,” you stop your words. Could you call him that? You lived together. You saw him everyday, and talked to him throughout the day, there was no other woman. But could you say boyfriend?

“I think we’ve earned the right to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend,” Bucky would say those words over and over again just to see your sweet smile, hear the little giggle that rose up your throat, and even feel the warmth that was circled your body. “Shy, you’re my girlfriend.”

“I want my boyfriend to hold my hand then,” you blurt out. Bucky chuckles, but he does entangle his fingers with yours, pulling you as close to him as he possibly can as you walk back home. Your steps match each other, and you’ve never felt safer than you do right now.

“Shy, what are you feeling right now?”

“Right now?” You look up at him with your brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“Explain your feelings towards me and us like you would in one of your books.”

“Oh…well,” Bucky winces as he looks at you, fearful that he overstepped his bounds, and pushed you too far, too fast. The two of you had been making great progress with this new step in your relationship, and he doesn’t want to offset it or have you regress.

”Never mind. Forget I asked.”

”No,” you strain out a giggle. Grabbing his arm with your free hand. “It’s not that simple, bubba. It…words don’t always flow, they just get caught in my throat, and don’t want to come out. And I usually close my eyes before I start writing, and imagine the scene. What are you doing?”

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, removing your hands off him before he steps in front of you. Squatting down a bit as he peeks over his shoulder, “Hop on, and close your eyes. You can whisper it in my ear.”

Exhaling loudly, you jump onto Bucky’s back, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you close your eyes. Letting your body feel everything that you feel about Bucky. “It’s new.”

“But good?” He asks. You give a quick peck to his neck. “I take that as a yes.”

“It’s so good,” you hum, wanting to express everything that you’re feeling at this moment. “It’s like this warmth deep inside my soul. It rushes out into every part of me, and wants me to always be with you because I don’t want to miss any breath that you take, or any blink of your eyes. I want to hear every groan of pain that you have because I want to be the one to make you feel better. It’s this rumbling fluttering feeling in my stomach that makes me feel like I’m in knots. It scares me and excites me all at the same time.”

Giving him a few nips to his neck, you move to right your head. Placing your mouth right behind the shell of his ear as you continue to whisper all the things that Bucky makes you feel. “Every time you touch me I get goose pimples, and this flood of…heat throughout every part of me. All the way to my soul, and to places I’ve never felt before. And I want you to explore those parts of me. And it’s like I’m home.”

“Hmm?” His voice is a whispered groan. You can feel his body tense under you, and you know why. He’d been starving his body of sexual gratification just to make sure that you were comfortable. He could also feel just how heated you are, right at your core. You meant more to him than a good lay, but each part of the past few minutes has his body on edge. Hyper alert of how your body is craving him as much as he craves you.

Your heated core presses into his back, making his aching cock twitch with a fervent need for your warmth. He is just about in a state of not seeing things clearly because of your pulse. The pulse that is in sync with his, and he felt it in your entire body. Throbbing harder than even he is. He’s tried to deny his animalistic needs because he felt like it was what you needed. But maybe you needed him in the same ways he needed you.

“Because my home is wherever you and our daughter are. Bucky, you can start calling me her mommy if you want to.”

“Please,” he strains out. Not even realizing himself how much he wanted Alpine to belong to both of you. Hearing you call him her daddy just felt so right, and he wanted you to feel the same way he did. That…yeah, the warmth.

“James, I love you,” he stops his walking right before you get to the complex. His body freezes as his eyes well up with tears. “I love you,” you whisper right behind his ear, and softly press a kiss before you wiggle out of his grasp.

Going to stand in front of him, your arms wrap around his waist. And you rest your chin on his chest as you stare up at him. “And I’m never going to get tired of saying that. I love you, James Buchannan Barnes.”

“I love you,” two broken people that had created a weird codependent relationship had no business falling in love. He needed you. Needed you every day and in every way. You are his best friend. The best thing that had ever happened to him, and he wanted to learn you all the more because of it. “I LOVE HER!”

Bucky throws his head back, yelling up at the sky before he looks back down at your scrunched up nose, and your eyes shining with the tears you weren’t allowing to spill over your lash line. “I love you.”

“And I want you to have all of me,” you slide out of his embrace, and pull him towards the door. “Tonight. I want us to rush into the apartment, and struggle to get each other's clothes off. But once we are completely bare in front of each other, I want our hands and lips to discover our bodies. Trace each line and curve with our fingertips. Intertwining every limb with the other until we’re too close to avoid your cock going into my cunt, and…”

His mouth crashes into yours as the two of you stumble into the building. A mad dash of hands roughly roaming over each other. Undoing buttons in the elevator until the two of you hit the door of the apartment and it’s a struggle to get in with the way you’re pulling off jackets and pulling apart shirts.

Crossing the threshold and the clothes fly at an alarming rate. Some in pieces others being tugged off at awkward angles because you need your mouth back on his. Thirsty for the taste of his mouth and you revel in it every time you get that tiny sip.

And just like you promised when you’re both naked, and pressed up against each other in a heated embrace the kissing stops, and his eyes peer so desperately into yours. He gulps, squeaking as he tries to talk. You can feel his pulse through his heavy cock that is pressing up against your stomach, “We can…we can stop whenever you want.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper as you start kissing down his chest. His hands caress your back as he watches you discover the hills and valleys on his chest. Dipping lower to kiss over every hard line that makes up his abs. Gazing up at him through your lashes. He isn’t sure if you knew how crazy you are making him feel, but he hopes you did.

No woman has ever shown him the care that you are. Making sure you kiss every scar with the most tender press of your lips. All this time he was spending hoping you were okay, he didn’t realize he wanted someone to do the same. And you had been. Not with words, but with how you took care of him. How you would jump up and run to the door with a smile just to greet him. Jumping into his arms, you would rub on his shoulders asking how his day was.

You felt real because you were. You didn’t want the amazing sex he could give you; you wanted him. His heart, body, and soul, and you had it. You had every part of him wrapped tightly around your little pinky finger, and he didn’t want it to ever unravel. He craved you like an addict to their next hit. He wanted to experience every part of life with you, including growing old.

Bucky never thought he was going to have a long life, and now he didn’t want to die before he was five hundred years old, and that still wouldn’t be enough time with you. Eternity was just the start of enough time with you.

His hands grip the underside of your ass before he picks you up. Letting your legs wrap around him as he takes the two of you to the bedroom. You are drenched and ready for him now, but you were right, he wanted his fingers and mouth to discover you first. He didn’t want this moment to end.

Sitting you on the edge of the bed, he yanks you back down the mattress when you try to scoot up the bed. Sinking to his knees, he starts at your toes, and kisses all the way up your leg. Stopping at the top of your thigh, he steals a glance at your glistening folds, kissing across your thigh before he makes his decent back down.

Moving to your right leg, he does the same motion. Finishing at your feet before he sits up a bit more. His eyes bore into yours before he leans forward, kissing over your mound. Right above the split, and you tremble. He is everywhere but where your body needs him. But you needed him more than your body.

His lips trail all over your soft pliable skin, and your fingers ghost over his arms and shoulders at the same speed. The tips of your fingers paint every inch of his flesh before he hovers over your body, and you take a haggard breath, giving your head a nod, “I can’t stand it anymore.”

”Good,” his legs move between your own, and he pushes you further apart. His digits slide down your arms, before he weaves his hands within yours, and pulls them above your head. “I can’t wait either,” slipping one hand free, he lines himself up with your entrance, “Don’t take your eyes off me,” he grunts.

”Okay,” your voice croaks out before he slowly descends inside of you. Moving at such an achingly slow pace, and making sure that your body memorizes the vein that runs over his cock. He makes sure that your velvety skin feels every inch of his head as it spears through your walls.

Biting on your lip, you are overcome with so much…just so much, but he shakes his head, “Do not withhold any sound from me, Shy. I need every part of this. If you wince, I want to know that it’s because of the stretch you feel as your body adjusts to me.”

“Okay,” he couldn’t fault you for becoming breathless, and unable to form words. He knew you’d been out of commission for a few years, and he could tell. Just like the proverbial walls around your heart, he would break, well stretch, these walls, too. He’d make sure that you learned how to take every inch of him. “Why did you stop?”

“Baby, I’m too deep.”

”No,” you want to cry. He wasn’t close enough, “I need to feel you on me. I belong to you, Bucky. Because you belong to me. I just,” Bucky slides completely home, and your words stop. Balls deep, and his weight is on every part of you. He is the most perfect feeling on you. Covered in Bucky. It’s what you wanted to be for the rest of your life.

Letting out the sweetest whimper when Bucky starts to slowly and steadily rut into you. Your body sounds vulgar with how wet you are, but your voice is the most angelic noise. Mewling, and calling out his name because nothing else mattered in the world. Only Bucky and you. The two of you had created a bubble of safety and care, and you had no desire to leave. Just wanted him. Always him.

“You’re my home,” you whisper as the constant fluttering knot in your stomach tightens. This is happening way too fast. No way is this going to last all night. You didn’t want to stop this feeling ever. “It’s…”

“It was always you,” Bucky pants out as his thrusts quicken. Normally he could last longer, but not this time. This time is overwhelming and feels too good. Nothing was better than this, and he was going to spend the rest of the weekend inside of you. Learning all the secrets to your body.

Even though you are struggling to hold on, he could feel your walls fluttering around him. Keeping your intense gaze just on him just like he asked you. “Thank you, Shy,” he coos, changing his angle he starts to drive into your warmth, and you gasp. The build up of the most beautiful high is becoming unbearable, but you weren’t finished just yet.

“Shy, let go for me, and we’ll do it again. And again. And again.”

“Promise?” your voice is hoarse as you choke down the need to come again.

“I’m never going to stop making love to you,” you let go as euphoria surges through every inch of your body. Racing through your blood, and making you all dizzy in the brain. Not even getting a chance to come back down when your walls grip around Bucky’s length so hungrily that his balls tighten and he shoots sticky warmth into the depths of your body, and you release again at the feeling of him in your belly.

”I love you,” you whimper, trying to ground yourself so you don’t lose sight of the face Bucky makes as he releases in a woman for the first time. Letting your body milk every drop of his thick cum as it blooms in your tummy like the best warmth.

“I love you, forever, Shy.”

”Forever.”

“Shy,” Bucky gives you a lingering kiss on your cheek as his left hand presses on the swell of your belly. He claims he could feel the baby better that way. His left hand is much more sensitive, and he wanted to feel the two of you growing and ‘swimming’. “Sweetheart, why don’t you ladies go whip up some lunch?”

“Of course, come on,” you grab Dove’s hand, pulling her into the kitchen. That was code for Bucky and Steve needed alone time. But his spoiled brat didn’t even want to leave him. She turns her head to look back at Steve giving you a clear view of her mark. She is completely stuck on him. Guess he finally sealed the deal.

You clear your throat, looking at her with your eyes wide, “They need a moment.”

“But…”

Ugh. You snap your fingers, and point into the kitchen, but she still looks back at Steve, “Dovey, follow Shy into the kitchen, and make me something real tasty, and we can share, okay?”

“Okay,” her body swishes back and forth, and she stands up a bit straighter, dropping your hand, and following you willingly. He tamed the brat. You were sure she still would stub up on him, and become a bit too childish for your liking, but even Bucky is watching Steve in an odd way.

“So how was it?” You ask with a smirk, as you pull out a few things from the fridge. The least you could do was talk to the girl. Maybe she wasn’t that bad.

“How was what?”

“Weren’t you a virgin?” Bashfully she looks down at the counter, finding her a seat in one of the stools. You’d have to hand her some things to chop, and hope she knew how to handle a knife. Her eyes never move back up to meet you, and you worry you made her shut down. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I just don’t even know how to begin to explain it,” you smile, sliding over a cutting board, knife and veggies. Without hesitation she starts slicing things up, and thinks? “It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt, and I can’t even begin to describe it. He loves me.”

“Steve told you that?” She shakes her head no, but her smile never fades. It’s the one thing Bucky said Steve claimed he’d never do again. Love. Of course he wouldn’t tell her, but sometimes a woman just knows.

“He pretty much told me without saying the words. We’re going to get married, and have babies like you,” sweet summer child. You and Bucky have built a relationship for years. Strangers to saviors to friends to lovers. She wouldn't understand your dynamic. “Every love story is different, but I do love mine and Steve’s.”

“Because he stalked you?”

“No,” she giggles, clearly forgetting the way that they met. “Because he had a goal, and he achieved it,” by breaking her down. “I’m not the person I was before. I feel like I have power, and a voice, and I’m desirable. I’d never felt like that before. My parents somewhat sheltered me. I don’t talk about Steve to them. They both want different things for me, and I just have spent so much time being the perfect girl for both of them. Dad wanted me to teach at a university, mom wanted me to be a pediatric nurse, so I went into early childhood education.”

“Do you have anyone you do talk to about Steve?”

She shrugs her shoulders as she bites into a carrot stick. “Just my sister. They don’t even know I talk to her. She’s my mom’s daughter, not my dad’s. She stopped trying to be perfect a long time ago,” there’s a sadness laced in her eyes as she stares at the cut veggies. “I don’t think they’d much approve.”

“Fuck ‘em,” she looks up at you with her brows furrowed, and a smile tingling to spread on her lips. You could see why Steve melted in her presence. You didn’t like seeing her sad because her smile is radiant. “How do you feel about Steve?”

“I love him,” no hesitation and with so much conviction.

“If they can’t see that you love him then why have them in your life? So what is it that your sister does?”

“Currently? Uh…changing her phone number again,” there is more to that story, and you’re not sure what.

“Their job — you’re around the business a lot. Are you using?” Her head shakes rapidly, taking a moment to look back where Steve and Bucky were, and her body goes frigid. “They’re just in the study with the door closed.”

“Steve doesn’t allow me to. He only lets me shotgun with him, or drink if he’s around. I’m a cheap drunk. And I get too flirty,” her giggle is awkward, and she avoids your eyes.

“IsYyur sister a junkie?”

“Not that bad. Steve says he doesn’t sell to her. I showed him her picture, and he told everyone while I was there not to sell to her. Told her that he would pay for her to go to rehab, and pay her phone bill so we knew where she was, and she disappeared for a while. She…she’s going to be okay. Steve will help.”

Walking over to her side of the counter, you open your arms wide. You understood addiction in people you love better than most. “Or you can just hold the baby?” With a sweet smile, she meets your hug, pulling back only to feel around your belly.

Steve shuffles in his seat as he stares at the monitors. Bucky doesn’t say anything as he watches his friend. “Shy and I like knowing where each other are in the house. She works here a lot and it’s a way for her to just see where I am.”

“I wasn’t questioning your need for cameras in your house. I’m just observing Dovey.”

“You’re looking awfully hard,” Steve straightens up only when you step away from Dove. Turning to look at his friend, but his eyes still wander over to the monitors. “So, why did you want to come here?”

“I want to apologize for what I did, but also the things I said about Shy.”

“Why?” Bucky cocks up an eyebrow at him. He’d love to have Steve graveling on his knees for the things he said about you.

“What do you mean why? I’m just apologizing and there’s no other fucking reason.”

“Don’t smoke in here,” he points a finger at his friend who started to touch his pocket. “We can walk outside, but this is a smoke free house. I’m asking why you’re apologizing because if it’s to ask me back, I’m not ready for that.”

“Why not?” Steve’s question shocks Bucky as he’s the one that turns to the monitor, pointing one of his fingers at the screens where you are. “I get it.”

“I don’t think you fully do, but you’re getting there.”

“So you’re just going to sit around and be a house husband for the rest of your life?”

“I could,” Bucky smiles, leaning back in his chair. “I could do that. Shy has had another successful book, and I made good investments. Just like you. My priority is my family now, Steve. And I can’t jeopardize her or our…you haven’t even asked me what we’re having.”

“This is a new thing for me,” he sighs. He’d been a horrible friend. Dove had told him as such. The more he talked to her, the more he realized how he had good people in his corner that wanted what was best for him. “What are you having?”

“He’s a boy. He’s all boy. Ember. Shy is insisting that Buchanan Barnes stays as well. She’s a bit of a romantic like that. I wanted a girl, but I hope he’s as in love with his mom as I am. She deserves another good man in her life. Speaking of family; I haven’t heard anything about Dove’s sister, Larkin. I still have our underground crew that stake out the trap houses,” he shakes his head, knowing it's the one thing that Steve couldn’t protect Dove from. That ugly world.

“Two weeks, Buck. That’s a long time out on the streets.”

“Look at me right now, and promise me that you haven’t done anything or sold to her,” Steve’s eyes roll up to look at Bucky. His face is somber and full of anger at the audacity in the question. “You love her,” Steve shakes his head no, confusion laced in every one of his features. The dramatic tonal shift in the conversation gives him whiplash. “I didn’t ask, you do.”

“I can’t love anymore.”

“Oh, bullshit, Steve. You can walk around acting like your heart is impenetrable because fucking Peggy left you for Rumlow, but you can’t fool me. You love her, and you need to tell her. Sam the other day was saying how different you are, and how you were already making preparations on a wedding, and future children, and where the fuck does that come from if it isn’t love?”

“Loyalty,” Bucky rolls his eyes as he looks at Steve. “It’s close enough to love, and it’s all that she’s going to get.”

“You’re a fucking dumbass, you know that? You have got Dove sitting on your cock asleep while people who can switch on you any minute see it. Yeah, information gets out, and it’s not just fucking Sam telling me this shit, Steve. You’re in love and you’ve gotten goddamn sloppy because of it. You show her the same fucking love that you gave Peggy, or you let her go. This life already consumed her sister, is that how you want to see Dove? Strung out? Selling her body for a hit, and too ashamed to seek help somewhere? You give her the same life you would have given Peggy. You tell her what she means to you, and you keep her away from that fucking life. Since when did you get so stupid?”

Steve sits in silence, letting his friend berate him. The only person besides Dove that can talk to Steve like this, and get away with it. “You got stupid when you let that little brat into your heart. You smile now. You’re looking for her fucking sister on the regular so Dove knows she’s okay. You have her lips burned into your skin just like she’s burned herself into your heart. Eventually if you don’t let the fire die down Steve, it burns away.”

“And only ashes and embers remain,” he smiles at his friend, almost laughing at the name Bucky and you chose for your son. Ember. The last remnants of a fire. The tiniest bit of spark that burns bright amongst the ashes. The light in the darknes.

“Do you want to lose Dove?”

“No,” his voice is ragged as his eyes move back to the monitor. Watching as her hands slide over your belly. Dove on her knees, whispering something to your son that Steve couldn’t hear, but he is addicted to seeing her so soft. Longing for the day where she was you.

“Steve, you’re going to. Whether it’s because you’re too fucking stubborn, or because of your stupidity. Do right by her when she’s with you, or let her go. She deserves someone who can give her this. When is enough, enough? Why are you still in this game? We’re getting too old, this is a young man’s game. You have more money than you could have ever possibly need.”

When was enough, enough?

“Steve, I love you, brother,” Steve meets Bucky’s eyes, and Bucky knows there’s still a human still left in his cold soul. “You see how easy that is? And I love you enough to tell you, I can’t go back into that life. I won’t leave my wife and son behind because of jail or death. Let’s go eat.”

When is enough, enough?

Masterlist

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#your mark on me #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve x dove #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #sebastian stan character #dark!fic #dark

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soft-and-bitter · 1 year

Text

We Can Last Forever

Mafia!Bucky x Ex!Reader

You turn to an old flame in a moment of desperation. Bucky takes full advantage of the situation to bargain for something he's wanted as soon as he set eyes on you.

Word Count: 1853

Warning(s): swearing, descriptions drug use and sexual situations

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or leaving some feedback, thanks! ❤

M A S T E R L I S T

"Look who we have here," he murmured, smirking. There wasn't a trace of worry in his tone, nor on his handsome face. And for reasons you couldn't quite grasp, these facts only served to elevate your own stress, the urgency of the situation now clearer than ever.

Bucky was your last resort.

"Hi," you greeted. Despite the sheer brevity involved, even you could hear how unsure you sounded, but it was just as well; you were winging this after all, what with all your options up in flames. On the other hand, you also couldn't fuck this up either, because what else would you come up with if this didn't work out?

With a deep breath, you tried again. "Hi, Bucky. I'm sorry this is so last minute."

He tilted his head, the black turtleneck he wore accentuating the steep line of his jaw. "It wouldn't have been if you'd called ahead of time. Oh, wait," he said, lip curling, "you got rid of my number from your phone. How could I have ever forgotten?"

You looked away, both hands gripping your phone behind your purse. Rather than place it next to you on the plush sofa, you'd opted to set it on your lap. Maybe you saw it as a barrier, however meagre, just something other than the distance that separated you from Bucky. For protection? But it was you who had sought him out, not the other way around.

There was no stilling your frantic thoughts, all those contradictions and uncertainties colliding against each other to form some ugly kaleidoscope of confusion in your head. Several stories below, the club was at the height of its frenzy, the bass throbbing faintly against the walls of Bucky's office, a cursed soundtrack to score the situation you were in, with no promise it was ending anytime soon.

"I . . . it felt like the right thing to do at the time," you tried explaining, still clutching your phone tightly. "I wasn`t ready to deal with the truth."

He chuckled softly. "Yet here you are," he said, each word sliding past his lips in a slow drawl. "I guess there's no keeping me out of your life after all, despite that text of yours."

You turned your head to look back up at him again. Bucky was leaning against his expansive chrome and glass desk, long fingers curled around the edges. His jet-black suit was tailored within an inch of its life; one of his cufflinks winking at you playfully, as if amused by your discomfort and panic.

"You're right, I guess I can't."

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Well, it is what it is. Now tell me why you're here."

Here was your moment, your golden opportunity. You didn't shy away from the details. Why would you when everything you described was all part of his sordid world, the drugs and the money owed, the nefarious parties involved? And so you laid it all out before him like a spread made up of your family's suffering: stressed and overworked, David had gone back to an old habit his dirt bag of an uncle had first introduced him to more than a decade ago. One hit after another, then another, and now your brother—the smarter of the two, in your opinion, and certainly the more successful—was now in so much debt he'd brought up the possibility of selling your mom's home for cash.

Bucky didn't react when you told him how much you needed to borrow. That soothed your nerves somewhat; if he wasn't fazed by the amount, then maybe he'd be more willing to part with his money.

You hoped.

"We'll have the money back in your hands before you even get a chance to miss it," you assured with a smile you hoped was blinding enough for Bucky. "David just has to get through this hump, but once he does, everything will be fine."

Just for a moment you wondered whose worries you were really trying to assuage—Bucky's or yours? Because paying off David's dealer was one thing, but your brother had also promised to check into rehab asap. Yet even with his high-paying FAANG job in Silicon Valley, he had already blown through his savings, together with any credit he'd been approved for. To top it all off, the massive bonus he kept harping on about wouldn't get paid out until the end of the year. You yourself had funnelled whatever money you could spare to help his cause. Where the hell would the money come from until then?

Bucky sighed audibly, pulling you out of your thoughts. "You haven't exactly explained why I should help you in the first place," he said.

He wasn't wrong, you realized. And really, it was what you`d hoped to avoid all along. "Listen, I know you probably won't believe me when I say this, but . . . I guess I thought we had something special going on between us. Special enough that I felt I could turn to you."

"You're right, I don't believe you," he confirmed, shaking his head. "Try harder, won't you?"

You stared up at him, a furrow between your brows. "It's the truth, Bucky. I was scared, okay? And let's face it: you knew I'd be, didn't you? Otherwise you would've told me from the start what the hell you really were."

He didn't respond to that right away. In the silence that ensued, with the club's bass pounding at the same speed as your heartbeat, you began to doubt yourself. Couldn't you have handled that with a little more finesse? What if Bucky was offended by your response that he decided he was going to turn you away?

When he finally spoke, it was with an edge of mockery and triumph in his voice. "Just so we're clear: you've come to ask a crime lord to help you when the very fact of me being one had you running off in the first place."

"I couldn't think of anyone else to go to."

Bucky scoffed. "I sure hope the irony's not lost on you."

The smile you offered him was sardonic at best. "Believe me, it's not."

Just when you were convinced that you'd screwed this up entirely, Bucky pushed himself off the edge of his desk and moved towards you, closing the distance. Neon blue strobe lights flashed through the floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over the club, casting otherworldly shadows across his face as he stalked nearer. You didn't turn your head to watch when he dropped into the sofa next to you, stretching his arms wide across the headrest. His fingers feathered against one of your shoulder blades.

From the corner of your eye you watched as he tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, sighing once again. "If you want my help, you'll comply with whatever I set out for you," he said.

"Like what?"

You could feel his gaze on you. "For starters, I'd like a kiss."

"Are you serious? Now?"

"Now," he echoed.

"And that's it?"

He gave a light shrug. "The night's still young. We'll just have to see how things go."

"But why?"

"Why not?" he countered, fingers drumming against the headrest. "Besides, you're the one who thought there was something special between us. Let's see what's left."

For a moment, you hesitated. Bucky's request was simple, but that was where the uncertainty lay. There was something between the two of you, even now, even after you left him in the lurch, that it was enough for you to reach out to him. You were doubtful a kiss would prove that to him, though.

There had been so much more you'd done with him, after all.

"Well?"

You studied his face. His expression was still passive, but curiosity shone bright in his eyes. What choice did you have? David was counting on you now, his own fear and panic elevating your own. With a tilt of your head you leaned forward, eyes falling closed, as you caught Bucky's lips with yours.

Bucky didn't react at first, and you nearly stopped, too shy and uncertain to entertain the possibility of being unwanted, that this was just a cheap way for him to get back at you. But then his lips moved against yours, bold and intentional; when he coaxed your mouth opened and his tongue slid past your teeth, you realized.

He still wanted you.

Both your phone and your purse dropped somewhere below you as one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly. Bucky drew you in deeper, his hold fierce, lips desperate and bruising, pulling you into a well of memories: his naked body against yours, mouth lingering on intimate spots that made you cry out in ecstasy, the sweet words he'd whispered in your ear while you came down from your high. Let me give you more. Let me give you everything. You just have to stay. Can you do that? For me?

His lips latched onto the side of your neck as you lost yourself further in his touch, fingers tangled in his dark hair, while his large hand fanned across your breast—

Your phone was like a grenade going off. You jerked back in panic, gasping for breath while the familiar melody on your device blared throughout the room. It was Bucky who got to it first.

"How fitting," he said, turning your phone around so you could see the screen. "It's your brother."

Heart hammering in your chest, you didn't move at first.

"Go ahead, answer it," he ordered, holding out your phone to you. "Tell David the money will be wired to his account in less than thirty and he's got you to thank for this."

His words were like a bucket of cold water flung at your face. With sudden clarity you remembered why you'd come here in the first place, and it wasn't to re-ignite things with an old flame. You needed Bucky's help, and, to your immense relief, he was giving it to you.

When you accepted your brother's call you cut straight to the chase, telling him of the lifeline Bucky was throwing his way. The only one, you emphasized, hanging up before he could profess any gratitude. David had work to do, but you'd done your part. Your mom would get to keep her house, just like she deserved to.

You looked at Bucky. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to my family."

He smirked at you, his hair now tousled thanks to your doing. "Don't thank me just yet, sweetheart. We're not quite done, are we?"

During the call one of his hands had crept along the inside of your thigh. It remained there, his hold entirely too tight and too hot, even through the fabric of your slacks. When Bucky spoke, you didn't miss the raw desire in his voice, the predatory anticipation that lingered on his smirk.

"We'll finally finish what we started, sweetheart. Just like we were always meant to."

Jimin's "Like Crazy" had me in such a chokehold when I first listened to it that it inspired this whole damn story; it's the song I imagined blasting down in the club while Reader haggles with Bucky. Hope you guys enjoyed it!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #bucky barnes au #james buchanan bucky barnes

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sgt-seabass · 7 months

Text

ʙᴜʀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ

✧˚ · . your fairy tale life ends in a slew of blood.

pairing — witch!bucky barnes x fairy!f!reader w/c — 5.3k listening to — ♫burn the witch warnings — no use of y/n, dark elements, body horror, blood and gore, non-con, kidnapping, bondage, chasing, mild violence, use of magic for evil deeds, drugging, dead dove (don’t eat it and complain to me about it) a/n — happy halloween! thank you to @goldylions for beta-ing. all mistakes are my own. shout out to @navybrat817, @rookthorne and @vonalyn for cheering me along with this fic.

Many fairy tales had been read to you as a child, back when you were small and your wings tiny. The forest was a place for fairy kind, as were all biomes. A holy sanctuary for those with magic, where the trees hugged and created a shelter of heaven-spun leaves and branches. An unspoken promise of protection.

It was not a place to be afraid. Not even in the nighttime. For the moon, bathed in the sun's light, provided a wave of peace to the world around it. The deepened hues of a dark forest lit by starlight were a place of magical refuge.

While many normal humans would be afraid, fairy-kind was taught that forests were a place of ancient souls, like the deep sea or the clouds above. And being half-fairy, this was a teaching you received at an early age.

But the forest you woke in was unlike any story you’d heard before. This was uncharted territory.

“Tinker Bell.”

The misty voice startled you awake. Your eyes opened, immediately taking in the deep red sky. There was a blood moon above, unlike any lunar eclipse you’d seen. The red glowed across the sky and your skin, as if you were alight with the malice that lay hidden.

As you sat up, you took in your surroundings. The dark oak and spruce surrounding you stood as noble knights, protecting something from view with its thick foliage. What wanted to remain hidden?

The dirt floor was sodden with woven roots and fallen leaves, dead and decaying. The only sweetness in the air was the subtle whiff of sap, but it was entirely eclipsed by the earthy smell of rotting wood among damp, stale bark.

This was no fairy tale but a place of nightmares.

No animals scurried at the sound of you rising, no birds sang, the area seemingly barren of any life. You didn’t know how you got here but knew you needed to get out. A place like this was not something Mother Nature would have conjured.

Your heart craved the softened, freshly aromatic scent of the forest near your family home. Where the leaves were crisp, and the sun gently kissed the treetops, creating a beautiful shine. You could almost taste the lovely sweetness of the fresh berries you’d find foraging. It was the opposite of how your stomach roiled at the smell of a dying forest.

The red light made it hard to see, darkness covering every inch of land. Looking down at the muddy turf, you wondered if it was blood you stood upon. But a quick swipe through the grime confirmed it was earth. There was an oddness to the scent of the soil. You rolled it between your fingers, pursing your lips. While it was dirt, this was not dirt you would find in the human world. It did not hold the magical properties it usually would.

This meant either you’d been transported to another realm or were stuck in a plane between the layers of earth and heaven.

Your hands patted over the clothes you’d been put in. A green sundress with a red robe tied neatly with a bow around your neck. These weren’t items from your closet. They felt fresh. New.

A sense of danger prickled across your skin, goosebumps rising on your flesh and hairs standing on end. You were not alone here.

The sound of old leaves crunching sounded behind you, and it didn’t take much initiative to begin running in the other direction.

Your heart began to race as a chase started with the unknown entity. You could hear it behind you, deep breathing and grunting. It was an obstacle course trying to avoid logs and roots, while trying to stop yourself from retching due to the pungent smell of burning, decaying flesh.

Sprinting away from danger raised a primal fear in you. The kind that rips your body apart so that every ounce of concentration, energy and intelligence can be used to escape the nightmares that trailed behind.

A blend of growls mixed in as a pack of rabid wolves jumped out from the side, lunging for you. You yelped, narrowly ducking and weaving away from the gnashing jaws of the animals. They joined the chase behind you, barking when you managed to jump a log that tripped a few of them. The wolves didn’t stop, though. They joined the ominous deep breathing that pursued you, as if you were Red Riding Hood fleeing from danger.

Needing to go faster, despite the close confines around you, you extended your wings from your back and threw away the cloak. Normally, your wings would open to the light of the sun, the streaks of light reflecting beautiful rainbow hues. But now, they added to the glowing red surrounding you, as if they were broken and bloodied. A sense of foreboding overtook you at the thought.

You began fluttering to move faster, your feet only lightly touching the ground. Being half fairy, you couldn’t reach the heights of a typical fairy, restricted by your human-sized body, but that didn’t matter with the many branches that loomed and imprisoned you close to the forest floor.

Crows cawed, their wings flapping as they followed you with red eyes. You could tell they and the wolves were not real, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t hurt you. The birds dove for your wings, and you had to change paths to try and avoid them.

Snakes slithered along the ground, and spiders bared their fangs on the branches above your head. It was claustrophobic, as if this evil presence was closing in on you, causing you a fear worse than your most violent nightmares.

With heaving breaths, running on pure adrenaline, you pushed yourself further than ever before.

You started to lose the animals and the mysterious creature, and it gave you a chance to begin your song.

Fairies cast their magic through their voices, affecting all who listened. Humans often did not understand the words but did not need to. The melody alone was enough to bring love and laughter to life. For that was the gift fairies brought. Through the pureness of their hearts, magic could be accessed and shared with the world.

While fairies appeared like blossoming flowers, there were dark vines that snaked from the ground. Those who used their magic for wicked intentions were considered dark witches. Banned from the sanctorum where Mother Nature sits, witches could never gain Mother Nature's trust, hence never earning their wings.

The song you cast into the acrid air was one of hope. A beautiful tune that caused fairy dust to fall from your wings as you fluttered faster, your strength increasing. But what you did not see behind you was the way the ground swallowed the dust, absorbing it to fuel a power that lay below.

“Tinker Bell.” A voice called to you. The name is reminiscent of the childhood teasing you’d endured during your youth. But the voice now held no innocent oblivion to the way it made fun of you. “Pretty fairy, you cannot outrun me.”

With no destination in mind and no path to guide your way, you continued through the forest with threatening sounds behind you. And before long, the trees opened up into a small clearing. There was no reprieve, though, as the trees that formed the circled area were so thick there would be no way you could continue into the forest without having to squeeze past.

Skeletons and discarded bones covered the ground, and each time your foot touched one, they crumbled with a sickening crunch. Humans, animals, and all kinds of beings lay dead in the field, no flesh left to discern them. Their graveyard would soon become yours too, you feared.

“Tinker Bell,” the voice sounded, and it was much closer now. You spun around with fluttering wings, doing a full turn with magic dust falling to the ground, but you couldn’t see anyone. The ground rumbled beneath you, and you gasped at the sight of vines shooting up to try and grab you.

With darting movements, you maneuvered around the vines that tried to capture you. But the more you began to panic, the more magic that came from you, and the world around you absorbed it. The vines started growing in power, getting thicker and faster the more you tried to fly away.

The blood moon was in full force now. The entire sky was a pool of scarlet, ruddy and nauseating. This realm was feeding off your fear, taking it and using it for its own power.

It was then the being showed itself, walking from the thick foliage into view. The sight of him shocked you so severely that you became distracted, and the vines took their chance to snake around your ankles and up your legs, stopping at your upper thighs. Another two vines grabbed each arm, holding you helplessly in place.

Before you stood an Oni. Or at least someone appearing to be one. A Japanese legend, Oni, were created through the death of a wicked human. Weidling iron clubs as their weapon, they would find enjoyment in crushing and destroying humans. They were bearers of punishment. While this man had no weapon, you feared for what he had planned for you.

But what did you do apart from giving the world your pure heart? What made you deserving of an Oni’s wrath?

Your wings kept fluttering as you took in the man's mask. Covering his face was intricate carvings on a deep charcoal wood. Horns extended on either side, with swirls that covered them down to the blackened eye holes. You could see his piercing blue eyes, stark in comparison to the darkness that surrounded them. The carved swirls continued down the mask's jaw, where it had cut sharp teeth with two fangs on both sides. The man was bulky, not the size of the Oni you had heard of, but he certainly eclipsed the size of an average human. He had to be almost seven feet at least.

He wore only black, with loose pleated pants on his legs and a robe covering his top beneath. One of his hands shone in the red light, and it took you a moment to realise that’s because it was an intricate metal, not flesh.

The sight caused an unrelenting fear in you, as if he had your heart in his hand, beginning to squeeze your very life with his threatening grip.

“Hello, Tinker Bell,” the man spoke, the deep timbre of his tone shaking you to your core as you struggled against your binds. “Are you lost, little fae? These woods are no place for a fairy like you,” he teased, and you could hear the smile in his voice despite the way his face remained hidden.

“Then let me go,” you snapped, trying to use wisps of magic to get the vines to recede, but all it did was make them stronger.

“Ah, hm, no.” The man approached in long strides with flouncing hair as the vines forced you to your knees, your body sinking slightly into the plush earth. “That would be an awful waste of all my effort, Tinker Bell.”

“That’s not my name,” you snapped, beginning to tire of his antics. You just wanted to go home.

“Don’t bore me with your birth name. Tinker Bell suits you much more.” His stature towered above you as he looked down at you, his hair falling around the sides of the mask. The mask was even more intimidating up close. Power radiated off his being, darkness oozing like a sick sludge from him. This was a man to be scared of.

You began to tremble, causing the vines to rustle as you tried to still yourself. In the eyes of a predator, it is best to try and make yourself seem intimidating. But there’s not much you can do as tears well in your eyes. Your mother had always teased you for having such a sensitive soul.

“Aww, are you going to cry? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

You sniffled, spikes of fear lighting your blood like an electric bolt. “What do you want?”

“Those wings, pretty girl.”

Your eyes widened, and your blood ran cold. You held your breath with a sharp inhale, anxiety clutching at your heart. When you’d first presented with your wings, you’d been warned that they were a rare commodity, much like an elephant's tusks. There were puissant people who wanted to increase their power, and a set of fairy wings granted immense magical properties.

“I don’t want to die,” your voice turned into a high whine as reality set in. This red forest would be your final resting place.

The man laughed heartily, causing you to flinch like he had slapped you.

“Oh, you’re not going to die. Don’t you know? Fairy wings grow back. Why on earth would I kill you when I can have a fae of my own?”

If anything, that was a fate worse than death.

“What’s your name?” You gulped, holding back the sobs that wanted to escape.

“You can call me Bucky.”

You were not above grovelling, and you were already on your knees, so you begged. “Bucky - please. Just let me go home. I’m begging you. I have a family, friends, people who will miss me. Just let me go, and I won’t tell anyone about you.”

His eyes darkened as if they were adapting to the shade of the mask surrounding them. There was a deathly silence as he considered you. “No.”

He seemed angry at the mere thought of you being missed. You wondered if it was jealousy. Does he have anyone caring for him? Unlikely based on his method of trying to gain more power. This does not seem like a personable man.

So, you tried a different angle.

“Bucky, you’re a witch, right? That’s how we’re in this realm. You made it?” His eyes narrowed as you spoke, but he didn't stop you. “We’re the same. Magical beings. We should be working together, not against each other. M-Maybe I can help you with some magic? In exchange for my release?”

“The moment I let the vines go, let you leave this place, you will leave me and never look back. Don’t lie to me, Tinker Bell. I can see through your bullshit,” Bucky spat venomously, moving away from you towards a large log that sat in the clearing.

And he wasn’t wrong. It was your intention to run and conjure a teleportation spell the moment you got out of this nightmare realm.

The vines picked you up despite your screams for freedom, carrying you towards the log. “Please, don’t do this! We’re cut of the same cloth. We should be working together! You can stop now. It’s not too late. Please, let me go!”

Bucky watched as you were placed over the log so your front rested against the bark. Your body curved over the trunk, breasts squishing uncomfortably against the hard surface as the vines pulled your arms and legs towards the ground.

A heat rose in your cheeks. You were stuck with your ass elevated, your dress ridden up, so your panties were on display to Bucky. The more you struggled against the binds, the stronger they held.

The blood rushed to your head when you let your neck relax, chin bumping against the log. Reality was setting in, your hope beginning to whittle away. “Please, don’t.”

“Plead all you want, Tinker Bell. No one can hear you here,” Bucky’s voice sounded behind you, his hands groping at the flesh of your thighs. “In fact, I’ll enjoy it more hearing your sounds.”

Bucky let his hands run over your skin, causing goosebumps to rise everywhere he touched. You could sense the power emanating from him, a dark magic present in his entire being.

The vines held firm, so tightly wrapped around your limbs that it felt as if they were seconds away from snapping your bones in their grip. You whimpered, skin cutting against the bark as you writhed.

You couldn’t help the arousal that began to pool in your core with the way Bucky groped you. His devilish hands warmed you like he lit a fire in your entire being. He was undoubtedly a powerful creature.

“You’ll want to be numbed for when I cut your wings off…” Bucky trailed off, and when you looked back you gasped.

He’d taken his cock out. Hard, veiny, and inviting – the thick flesh had an angry red tip, shining precum at the tip. You wondered if he tasted as powerful as his magic.

Bucky took a string of fabric to tie back his hair so it was in a tight bun. You watched, mesmerised by how he moved so fluidly.

He kept his eyes on you the whole time, his dark stare not leaving you as his cock bobbed between his legs when you let out a sniffle.

The mask stayed on after Bucky had finished with his hair, and you couldn’t help but be curious about your captor. Would he look like the demon he projected?

Bucky lifted the bottom of the disguise to spit into his hand, running his palm over the ridges of his cock with a grunt as his metal hand yanked your panties down.

Reality came crashing down, and you cried out. “Wait! Don’t! Please, don’t.”

“You don’t want to be in pain, do you? I could cut your wings with no analgesic, but I’m doing you a favour by giving you my cum,” Bucky’s hands gripped either side of the trunk, allowing his cock to sit nestled in your exposed ass cheeks. “I’m being nice. I’m not even going to fuck you.”

You shook your head, a sob escaping you. “This isn’t being nice.”

“Oh? Not even when I do this?” Bucky snapped his fingers with an incantation, and a small vial of pink liquid appeared in his hand. He took the ampoule, moving his cock out of the way so he could pour it over your ass, letting the pink sparkling fluid seep down into your folds.

Your entire body went taut, sudden bolts of pleasure shooting through your body like firecrackers. Your toes curled, and you wailed out a moan, wings fluttering crazily as you tried to process what was happening.

The arousal coursing through you was like nothing you’d ever felt before, Bucky’s magic infecting you and making your brain spiral like you’d had multiple orgasms at once.

Rainbows of colour swirled in your vision as Bucky began sliding his cock against your ass. You could barely register the rocking movement as euphoria filled your brain, the lust making your hair stand on end.

“See? It’s not so bad, Tinker Bell,” Bucky groaned, humping against you and pushing you harder against the log. “I bet no one has touched you like this before.”

Bucky kicked your legs out so you were spread wider, allowing him to slide his cock along your pussy, collecting your arousal. He rubbed the tip of his cock on your clit, and you moaned obscenely. “St— op”

“Ah, you don’t really want me to, do you? Look how wet you are for me. I bet I could make you cum just with my cock.” Bucky wasn’t wrong. He rolled your clit with the head of his dick, and whatever magic he’d used on you had it feeling like tongues were lapping at you.

“That’s it, come on, cum for me. Soak me. Lose that innocence for me, my little slut,” Bucky leant forward, hands pressing down on your wings, teeth nipping at your ear.

That was all it took for the dams to burst. The world was vibrant as you came, red filling your vision, your body shaking with mewls as your juices gushed against Bucky’s cock.

Your wetness allowed Bucky to easily slide against your flesh, heat radiating from his pulsing cock as he grunted with each thrust. “Fuck. You’re perfect.”

Time seemed to warble, your brain unable to keep up as Bucky grabbed your ass, pressing your cheeks together so he could fuck them harder. “Shit, fuck, oh— oh, I’m close.”

Bucky suddenly pulled back, and you hoped the ordeal was over. How wrong you were.

“They’re soft as silk, Tinks,” Bucky commented, running his fingers over the reflective surface of your wings. You tried to flap them to get his hand to move away, but he was fast, grabbing onto the delicate membrane of your wing.

“Don’t touch them. That hurts,” you whimpered in your haze, writhing against the vines.

“Oh, I’m going to do far more than just touch them.”

You felt as Bucky played with the pliability of your wings, the body part easily manipulated as it was soft and light, the only dense part of your wings being the cartilage that secured them to your back.

Pure horror filled you as he placed his palm onto your wing, forcing it against the log, using his other hand to curve the opalescent surface of your appendage around his cock.

“Fuck. So fucking soft. I knew it would feel amazing,” Bucky moaned, using your wing like a sheath for his cock.

You could feel the heat from his dick against you, your wings sensitive and full of nerves like the rest of you.

“Stop…” You cried, tears still falling, and you were surprised you had any left to cry.

To be defiled like this was something unimaginable. The happiness that you so often felt in your soul was becoming a chimera – no more than a hopeful illusion.

With Bucky’s grunts sounding behind you, you craned your neck to look at the sky, the red reflection making it look as if you were shedding tears of blood.

The blood moon shone proudly, the sky clear of clouds, leaving just redness to cover everything. What did you do to deserve this? Was it simply your fate to be a sacrifice to the wretched? Was there such a thing as fate at all? For so long, you’d considered your life set up upon a lineage Mother Nature set out for you. But no loving figure would force this reality upon one of her creatures, right? Your whole belief system felt shaken, like your entire world compass was stomped on and shattered.

What had you done wrong?

In reality, you’d done nothing to merit such treatment.

Yet the world bestowed the pain on you regardless.

“Enough, stop. It hurts,” you whimpered, the bend on your wing uncomfortable as Bucky thrust into it.

“Oh, it feels too good to stop, pretty girl. It’s like fucking straight magic.” Bucky’s hands braced against the log, using wisps of dark power to keep your wing in a circle.

The power from him escalated, dark clouds pouring from him and billowing across the ground, covering the graveyard of souls surrounding you. His breathy moans got louder, his grip on the log causing cracks to form in the wood.

“F-Fuck, feels too good. I’m going to cum. Yeah, you want my cum, don’t you? Dirty slut.” His hips lost their rhythm, beginning to stutter as he came. Bucky was quick to pull back, his cum coating your back where your wings connected with your flesh.

It was an odd feeling that washed over you. It was something akin to calmness, although it was forced upon you. The last movement you could manage was to look back, brows knitting together when you saw that Bucky’s seed was coloured black, before your body went involuntarily lax.

You lay over the log, your breathing levelling out as you became numb to the world. His spell didn’t just anaesthetise your body, but your emotions too.

You couldn’t even wish to be asleep as you started at the foggy ground.

The vines eased up, not needing to hold you so tight when there was no struggle, their tension leaving marks on your limbs.

“You’re so perfect.” Bucky complimented, but there was no smile on your face.

There was nothing.

You were nothing.

This was the end of everything, and the start of the aphotic zone.

The remnants of your tears fell onto the bones below, cleaning away some of the dirt covering them. But the damage to them remained. Just as the damage to you began.

You couldn’t see what Bucky was doing, nor could you feel it, but you could hear it. There was a sick squelching noise, followed by a sawing sound, as Bucky began to hack at the cartilage connecting your wings.

It was like nails on a chalkboard, nausea roiling in your stomach as you had no choice but to lay there like a rat in a laboratory, ready to be dissected in some horrid experiment.

He could have magically removed them. He’d more than exemplified he had the power to. But he’d chosen the barbaric route for his own crooked pleasure.

Bucky was silent, concentrating on his work as your body wobbled with each run of the jagged blade against you. Blood coated your skin, the ichor running down your sides and covering the wood below you. It gushed out, and if you didn’t feel light-headed before, you certainly did now.

The only words you heard enter the world were a whispered fire incantation. It was then you smelt your flesh burning, the blade heated to cauterise your wound as it sliced.

If you had any control, you’d be wailing, screaming, doing anything to try and get out. Bucky stole your anguish from you, leaving you like a doll atop the log as your identity was violently stripped from your back.

Mother Nature had gifted you your wings. They were your responsibility. And you failed to protect them.

Yet, in your neutered state, you were apathetic about it.

The impromptu surgery went on for what felt like hours, the slow removal of your body parts done both with intricacy and unrelenting brutality.

Your back felt significantly lighter as your wings fell to the ground, crunching the skeletons below into dust.

It was done.

You would never be the same.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I left some scarring. I want my fairy to be special and bear markings made by her owner,” Bucky said proudly, as if you could respond.

You just stared at the skull below you. God, how you wished to be dead on the ground.

Bucky came around the log and stood in front of you, cupping your face with his palms so you were forced to look at his masked face. “Ready to go home?”

Drool dropped out of your mouth and down your chin, unable to control your functions. Bucky swiped away the moisture. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Bucky snapped his fingers, and you were instantly transported to his home.

It seemed like a small cabin in the middle of a forest, based on what you could see from the dirty window. Every surface was covered with tomes, vials, herbs, and materials needed for spells.

The place had an earthy smell with a mix of floral sweetness.

You sat in the corner of the room, and it took you a moment to realise you sat in a large birdcage. With your body still paralysed, you could only elicit a small whimper at the realisation that you were trapped. A purple field covered the cage, assumedly stopping you from using magic.

Bucky startled you, suddenly materialising with your wings in his arms. Seeing them made your heart drop to the earth's centre. They’d lost their colour, aura, and everything that made them special. Now, they were no more than an ingredient.

You watched as Bucky placed them onto his desk, dusting himself off before turning his attention back to you. “Sorry about the mess. I should have cleaned up before you came over. But I’m sure you won’t mind.”

There was a sense of anticipation as he removed his Oni mask, showing you for the first time his face. You were surprised at how handsome and regular he looked. Sometimes, the evillest were the people we’d never suspect if we passed them on the street. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” He waved the mask before placing it next to your wings. “Since I act like a demon, I might as well look like one, right?”

With a grin, he moved to the bubbling cauldron that was hanging atop a fireplace, scooping up some of the mystery green liquid into a small wooden bowl.

There was intention in every movement as he collected the foul-smelling soup. As he came to your cage, every part of you wanted to scream and run. Yet you didn’t move an inch, sitting upon the cot with your back to the cage wall.

“Here. This will help you heal faster,” Bucky said, as if you had a choice in what you consumed. You felt ill as he got closer with the sloshing broth, your stomach flipping as he raised it to your lips. He had to physically pry your mouth open to pour the soup in, the heat sliding down your slack throat with ease. “That’s my girl, Tinks. Such a good fairy.”

His praises fell on deaf ears as your senses were overtaken by the putrid taste and smell of whatever concoction he had fed you. Almost instantly, you got movement and feeling back.

For the first time in your life, anger overtook you. You’d never felt rage before, but it was all that occupied you now.

With your wings gone, a whole part of you had been taken away. Without your gift of purity, you didn’t have the same emotional control. You felt human.

You jumped up, whacking the bowl from his grip and wrapping your hands around Bucky’s neck, ready to squeeze the life out of him. “I’m going to kill you,” you snarled, entirely unlike your usual self.

Bucky had stolen your innocence and replaced it with darkness.

“Is that so?” Bucky tilted his head, unphased as you squeezed. “Interesting.”

Your anger turned to desperation as Bucky’s form turned to sand in your grip, the course grit slipping through your fingers.

“No!” You screeched, running for the open cage door.

But Bucky was faster, reappearing on the other side of the cage and quickly slamming the wire door in your face.

“No! Let me out! You fucking wench! Hag! Get back here, you old bag and fucking let me go!” You gripped the bars, shaking them desperately as you tried to conjure as much magic as possible. But you had nothing, Bucky’s forcefield holding strong. “I can see why Mother Nature rejected you, warlock. You’re nothing more than an imp, picking on others so you can feel better about your own weakness. You fucking prick.”

There was no chastity left. Your virtue had been lost when your wings were stripped from your being.

“Now, now, that’s not nice. You hurt my feelings.” Bucky frowned, moving back from your enclosure. “Those wings of yours will grow back, and so will your temperament. I’m a very patient man, and I have no issue making your whole existence suffering. But if you know what’s good for you, you will apologise when I return. Wings or not, I expect you to keep the nature of a fairy, Tinks.”

With a flash, Bucky disappeared, leaving you alone in the dank room.

You collapsed to your knees, resolving into a fit of sobs. Without your object of anger there, you were reduced to nothing but sorrow.

Letting out a shuddered breath, you looked over your shoulder. Out from the scarring, popped the smallest amount of new cartilage.

The cycle would begin again.

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flordeamatista · 1 year

Text

𝗕𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗧𝗼 𝗬𝗼𝘂

pairing: dark mob!bucky barnes x stewardess!reader

concept: Like clouds dancing in the air giving the setting sun a reason to live, that is how you came into his life.

word count: 2k

warnings: possessive Bucky, dark Bucky, dubcon/noncon (to be safe on the kidnapp-ing, drug—ing), desire,lust, p— in-—v, mile high club, man—ipulation mature themes, edging, fingering, nickname ──(Princess, Sweetheart)

a/n: Written for @the-slumberparty April Mob AU Challenge. In the midst of my muse going off and on, I finally received the muse to finish this story from the writing fairies to submit it on the last day.

The prompt: “If it wasn’t meant to be, you wouldn’t fit me so perfectly.”

lovely beta:@lunarbuck & @targaryenvampireslayer

line divider by @s-tarksintern ──the cute gif/moodboard made by me

Masterlist

Despite the distance, I can still sense you.

What a waste of time.

You feel your heart sink as you realize you have been stood up. You try to distract yourself by focusing on the flickering candlelight on the table and taking a deep breath.

It's as if the radiant flame is a reminder of your feelings for him, a reminder that won't go away no matter how difficult the situation gets.

His deep crimson eyes, burning intensely, ran wild during lustful nights and burned so hard every day you were with him.

This light was visible only to you.

His possessiveness and jealousy, however, were like melting wax into molten tears of your fears as you fled. That night, when you left him, it ached for you, but you knew it was time to leave. You left, never looking back, never feeling his piercing light again. His hold on you was more than physical; it was as if he treated you as if you were his property and wanted whatever he thought best for you, regardless of what you wanted.

You are finally free.

Fresh air is the most beneficial thing for you. You have to venture into a new atmosphere, experience a new life, and encounter a new man.

Recharge from him and getting a fresh beginning.

The waiter comes with a drink.

"On the house. He doesn't deserve you for standing you up."

You had the feeling that the restaurant staff were watching you and were sorry your date had not arrived. You’d been holding on to the idea that he was stuck at work for almost two hours but after sitting at the table alone and stupid, you’re giving up hope.

You quickly down the drink, hoping it will give you some relief from the humiliation and arduous wait.

“So much for romance,” you mutter into the glass.

"Maybe your man is nearby," the waiter says softly in fear as you stare at him in confusion.

Your attention is drawn to the door as he points to it.

A stone wall surrounds you, and suddenly, the air is thick as syrup.

It feels like your body is drained, your arms and hands are heavy, and every movement feels like a struggle, as you grasp the table, feeling numb. There he stands, him, with a bouquet of roses in his hand. A smirk escapes his lips as fire returns to the room.

But you keep seeing blurry figures, hoarse voices, and the sensation that your body is swallowing. The room looks like a slow-moving carnivorous scene. Air around you feels heavy and thick, as if it is tightly wrapped around you, suffocating you.

As if your body is turning to stone, you feel helpless, but a touch brings a sliver of reality when blue ocean eyes and “You can’t be taking free drinks from a stranger, Sweetheart. Just sleep and it will be okay.” Fingers stroke your cheek and you keep your eyes open.

“There is no escape.” He kisses you on the forehead, and you see darkness.

Your eyes only belong to him and he looks forward to seeing them again

It is only when you see his shadows and feel the beating of your heart that you know where you were.

Though you want to run, you return to him by the hand of the universe. In his hands.

A smirk appears on his face. “Hello, Lovebug. Our paths cross again. I want to know why you ran from me. Nobody, not even you, runs from me." His deep voice carries anger while his eyes focus on you.

“Where am I?”

You see him stare down at you and tap his glass of Scotch, but you realize you are not at his house but on his private jet. In the midst of the peaceful flight across the clouds, you can sense the jet moving peacefully.

But you are next to the darkest cloud of the world.

There is only one dark king in the world of mobs, Bucky Barnes.

You can feel yourself being pulled into darkness, unsure of what the future holds. “Fuck you.” You take his glass and throw it across the plane.

You slap him hard across the face, causing his head to snap to the side. The sound of the slap echoes throughout the small plane.

His eyes suddenly sparkle with rage as he pushes you back against the jet's cabin.

As you stare at his lips, he licks them.

This is the end for you, and you know it.

His touch is electrifying, and he seems to sense it. With an inviting smirk, he leans in closer, leaving you with no doubt as to his intentions.

He will make sure your words are moans for his name with a single touch

He reaches down and pulls up your dress, then slowly runs to your underwear. His fingers glide through your pussy. You can feel your heart beating faster as his touch enthralls you, as he brings you to the edge of pleasure. His eyes are dark and lustful, and he whispers, "I know she's ready for more. Let's make her happy, the king is home." Keeping his thumb firmly pressed against your most intimate area, he rubs it back and forth rhythmically, and you surrender to his words and the touch of his fingers.

He slides two thick fingers deep into your pussy, and you whimper. "Don't tell me you don't want me," he growls, leans in and bites your bottom lip, as his other hand grips your throat, fingers pumping you hard.

He aggressively takes your lips. His body shakes and he collapses onto you, exhausted. His breath is hot in your ear as he whispers your name. His tongue slides through your mouth as your whole body melts against him. He breaks the kiss and he looks down at you with a satisfied smirk.

His body is trembling, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

His hard body presses against yours while he moans.

He adds another finger to your pussy and your eyes roll back. His touch sends electric pleasure waves through your body. His growl echoes the intensity of those feelings coursing through your body. "I will give you more so you know you are mine." His fingers send you over the edge, your moans growing louder in the room.

Biting your lip and trying to stay upright, you roll your eyes back in your head.

Like clouds dancing in the air giving the setting sun a reason to live, that is how you came into his life.

The stewardess of his private jet bandaged the shallow cut on his arm in silence when he won a fight and was on his way home. A sense of hope and possibility was brought by your unexpected arrival. He was given a glass of bourbon by you to ease the pain, but all he wanted was to feel the touch of your hands on his skin to soothe the wound. The sun shined through the plane that day as you flew in the air, he kissed you on the lips to claim you as his.

The world was in his hands in every aspect, and even the air obeyed him, so there was no place for him to hide. Even though you attempted to run from the lifestyle, his hands were visible on your skin every second of the day and you were his.

In this moment when you know he is tracing what is his, you want him to trace more.

Your body moans at his touch.

You are left utterly frustrated when he suddenly draws his fingers from you.

You want to scream, but the sound never escapes your lips. He is playing a game, and you are on the verge of losing badly. Your breathing is heavy, and your eyes sting with tears yet to fall. In this moment, you feel trapped by overwhelming sensations and powerlessness.

A soft whispered apology graced your lips. "I didn't mean to leave you. I needed air."

With his back to you, Bucky smirks in response to your unease, none of which he wants you to feel. Taking off his suit jacket, he turns to you as he removes his tie, unbuttons his shirt, and slowly rolls up his sleeves.

"Come here," he whispers softly.

You stand, weighing your options, knowing you have none, since he is always a step ahead, forcing you to bend your knees to him. There is nowhere to hide or scream. He seems unimpressed after you take a few steps to ease up under his obedience.

“Come here now,” he says harshly. He is not backing down, and his tone makes it clear that you have no choice but to obey his order. It is unusual for him to repeat himself, and his eyes are burning.

You obey, not wanting to anger him further. He sneers as you walk over, your heart beating wildly. He grabs your arm and pulls you closer, his breath hot on your face.

"I'm going to give you two options, baby," he growls. "You can take my cock, or you can cry while I make you take it."

Bucky has everything in his life, from power to his girl.

He ignites my flame once again with his words

Your pussy takes him in as he grinds his hips against you. His breathing becomes heavier as he takes you in. Every movement is torture and ecstasy simultaneously. His gaze is locked on you and he moves closer to deepening the connection between you and him. He feels like there's no one else in this world, but the two of you. He has been under his spell since the moment he laid eyes on you.

"Don't you need me, Princess?" he whispers softly, grabbing your jaw. But you can’t answer. "Answer me, baby," he says in a low, growling voice as he thrusts inside you slowly. "Or I will not let you come all fucking night!"

Your body burns and you know he will keep his promise, making your suffering even worse. You are his to take. You whisper, "I need it," into the air.

“Yes,” he growls again as your flesh yields. "You are..." He tightens his fingers around yours as he grinds against you. "Mine." He thrust faster and harder. In. Out. Faster. Stronger. The thrill of his body thumping into you was apparent in every thrust.

"If it wasn't meant to be, you wouldn't fit me so perfectly. Look at our movement as one, darling." His breathing is heavy and ragged as he pushes himself in deeper, claiming every inch of your body.

His words, touch, and excited expression make you lose your breath.

He whispers darkly, "Your pussy is so happy to see me." His movements are precise and calculated, and you arch your back and wrap your legs around him to push him closer with each thrust.

You can feel the pleasure building up as your orgasm is quickly approaching. Finally, you reach the peak as you tremble and moan.

Your freedom from him slips away from you.

Once again, you have crossed a dangerous, fine line, as Bucky said, you have nowhere to run. You have no choice but to take on the consequences of your actions. You watch the clouds move across the sky as you move with him in rhythm, knowing that no land can hide you.

Your voice echoes his name, and they remain until the end of time

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navybrat817 · 1 year

Note

He's not stalking you, he's looking after you, baby

Oh, is he?

Follow You Home

Pairing: Soft!Bucky Barnes x Florist!Female Reader Summary: Bucky just wants to see you smile when he visits you at the flower shop. Word Count: Over 1.9k Warnings: (S)talking, (c)reepy behavior, talk of (v)iolence and (d)eath, (s)exual thoughts, delusion, obsession, homeboy has issues (still love him), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Future fics for this AU will venture into (d)arker territory. Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @rookthorne. A/N: For @springdandelixn's Double-Trouble Sleepover (featuring flowers) and @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's Mini March Challenge ((s)talking, ribbon, plaid shirt). ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A sense of serenity and calm washed over Bucky Barnes as he walked into the flower shop. The fragrance and colors almost overwhelmed him the first time he went in, but he learned to adjust. One of the only blessings of the trauma he experienced is that he could be extremely adaptable when the occasion called for it. Now he craved the sweet scent that surrounded him.

The way he craved you.

“Hi, Bucky,” you called from behind the counter. “Right on time.”

Like when he saw you the first time, he stared at you for far too long. He was still too intrigued to care if you caught him. Unlike most people around him, you never cowered under his gaze. You always greeted him with a smile which was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

Even if your smile didn’t reach your eyes today.

Still beautiful. Still mine.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a quick look around as he made his way to the counter where his flowers were waiting. “I brought you something.”

“Let me guess?” you asked, your smile still not as bright as normal. “A candy bar because I’m so sweet?”

Sweet enough to melt on my tongue.

“What gave it away?” he asked, handing it over with a small smile of his own. He could have set it on the counter, but he liked having an excuse for his fingers to brush against yours. “One day I might switch it up on you.”

“No, this is nice,” you said, sniffling. “Thank you.”

I’m reliable. Dependable.

Predictability had a way of putting some at ease. It communicated stability, safety, and security. He made sure you knew exactly what time he’d be at the shop and on which day. He always purchased the same flowers. Always brought the same wrapped candy after you commented one day that you craved it.

You'll crave me the way I crave you.

“Beautiful,” he said as he inspected the small bouquet and took a moment to steal a glance at you. Not that he needed to look over the arrangement. They were perfect every time, right down to the perfect ribbon bow to hold them together. “Mrs. Bradshaw will love them.”

Every week he bought a small bouquet of tulips for his elderly neighbor. She didn’t have many people to look out for her, so he checked in whenever he could. In some ways, she reminded him of Rebecca. Or at least what he thought Rebecca would be like if he got to see her grow up. Maybe it was why he felt the need to protect her.

He felt the need to protect you, too.

Just not from myself.

“It’s nice that you do that,” you said, ringing them up with another quiet sniffle.

“I don’t mean to pry, but is everything okay?” he asked, putting the change in the small bowl by the register.

“Just not a great day,” you tried to brush off.

“Bad customer? I don’t mind taking care of them. Just tell me who,” he offered.

A man screamed at you weeks ago over the cost of flowers for his wedding. You explained that he was receiving a discount and the price was agreed upon, but it wasn’t good enough for the jerk. You threw him out after he shattered one of your vases.

Bucky shattered one of his knees.

I’m not a bad man.

“No, it wasn’t a bad customer,” you said, your eyes misty as you reached for the candy bar and changed your mind.

"You can talk to me," he urged, placing his hand on yours long enough to provide comfort without being uncomfortable. "I'm your friend, right?"

I'm actually more than that.

"Yeah," you nodded, taking a deep breayhy. “You know my boyfriend?”

Bucky didn’t say anything for a moment. When his slight obsession with you began, he found out everything he could. While it didn't surprise him that you had a boyfriend, it disappointed him. Especially when he discovered that he was a decent man. Always friendly when he visited the shop. Even kept your place nice and tidy when he stopped by.

It was a feat Bucky didn't break every single one of his fingers for touching you.

“Yeah, I know of him.”

“He dumped me. Through a text,” you said as more tears welled up. “Just said we were through. No explanation. When I tried to call him, he blocked me."

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice filled with sympathy as he grabbed a pack of tissues from his jacket pocket.

"My stuff was in a box this morning, waiting in front of my door," you went on. "I thought things were going great between us. Not too fast or too slow, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe he was seeing someone else."

"If he was, he's an idiot,” he said, itching to walk around the counter to hug you. It broke his heart to see you upset. “They can't see someone as perfect as you when they have you right in front of them.”

“I’m not perfect,” you argued, dabbing your eyes with the tissue. “Look at me. I’m crying in the middle of the shop.”

“You’re perfect to me,” he said.

In every way.

"Thanks, Bucky. You've always been very kind."

“It’s the other way around,” he said, clearing his throat. “And I appreciate it more than you know.”

Because of Bucky’s past, he did his best to blend in most days. As a man forced to do bad things against his will, the truth behind his actions didn’t matter to some. They had their minds made up about him and would never trust him because of what he did.

Do people feel better by making me a villain?

But one day, while he was out trying to make amends, he spotted you helping a homeless man on the sidewalk. He had seen him before. Most passed him without a second glance, but you crouched down and checked on him. You even gave him a bit of food you had on you and some money.

“I wish I could give you more, but that’s all I have,” you said.

The man nearly cried with gratitude. No one else cared, but you did. That was when you spotted Bucky looking your way. He could avoid being seen if he wished, but part of him wanted you to notice him. If you recognized him, in a good or bad way, you didn’t show it. You merely smiled, gave him a friendly nod, and walked on.

As if you hadn’t changed his life.

Bucky didn’t mean to follow you at first, but he had to make sure you got to wherever you were going safely. He didn't want anything bad to happen to you. Besides, a gaze between the two of you wasn't enough to leave him satisfied. Once he squashed his curiosity and made sure you were okay, he thought he’d leave you be.

He was wrong.

The second he walked into the shop and saw you again, he knew you had to be his.

“You’re caring and strong. You deserve kindness and respect,” he told you, wondering if the depths of his feelings showed in his eyes. “Someone who will love and cherish you for who you are.”

“I might cry again,” you smiled.

It reached your eyes this time.

“I’m just glad you’re smiling again,” he said. It would be beautiful to wake up to it each day. He was going to make that happen.

“Is it okay if I ask for a hug?”

“Sure,” he said, opening his arms.

You moved around the counter and leaned into him with a sigh. He smiled as he held you, feeling a warmth inside of him that he hadn’t felt since before he met you. He imagined many times how he’d make you shiver with need once he had his hands on you and it took strength not to stretch you out on the counter.

Just like it took him strength not to touch you in your home.

Watching wasn’t enough. It never was. He’d have you in his bed soon.

Where you belong.

“It’s probably for the best. I think he was stealing some of my panties,” you said against his shoulder before you gasped. “Oh, my god! I shouldn’t have told you that. I’m so sorry.”

Bucky loved the feel of your satin underwear around his cock. It was easy to imagine how wet they’d be against your pussy as he teased you. Not that you’d wear underwear much once he had you. Maybe he’d keep you in one of his Henley’s. Or a plaid shirt so he could rip it open. Or little sundresses so he could push them up around your hips.

So many options.

“Don’t be sorry,” he smiled when you kept your face hidden. “I’m glad you’re comfortable with me.”

As you should be.

“Thank you, Bucky,,” you said, lifting your head and gazing at him. "You're a good guy."

"I'm trying to be," he whispered, holding you a bit tighter before he let you go.

If anything, he'd be good to you.

"Here," you said as you pulled away and grabbed the largest red rose in the shop. “You should find someone special to give this to. I think they’d be very lucky.”

“Yeah, I think I will,” he said as a couple walked through the door. “I should let you help them. Is it okay if I see you tomorrow? Just in case you need a friend."

"I'd like that," you smiled.

"I'll see you later then," he smiled back.

“Bye. Thanks again."

Bucky left the rose next to the candy bar when you weren't looking and walked out the door with his tulips in hand. He’d have to explain to Mrs. Bradshaw that he’d be moving shortly. His new home was ready. A place outside of the city. Quiet. Secluded.

Perfect for the two of you.

Bucky was going to take great pleasure in the two of you christening every room of the place. He'd even fill the rooms with roses and other flowers to show how special you are. You deserved beauty in your home.

He frowned when he suddenly thought of your tears. Your now ex-boyfriend hadn't seen him coming. As much as part of him hated that he ever touched you, had been inside you, he didn't want to cause an innocent man pain. Not when his only crime was that he wanted you.

I just wanted you more.

He almost felt guilty for sending the text and blocking your number. He felt even worse when he remembered how the light left his eyes. That feeling went away when he boxed up your things. It had to be done.

No one would find the body.

Maybe I am a villain, but I'll be your hero, too.

Once Bucky saw you home safely tonight, he’d wait until after midnight to make his move. He did say he'd see you tomorrow. He’d show you how easy it is to break into your place undetected and bring you to your new home. A place where he could keep you safe from a world that didn’t deserve your kindness.

He didn’t have a choice or control over his life in years past, but he did now. He chose to take back control. To begin again.

Starting with you.

And who better to love and protect you than the former Winter Soldier?

You'll love your new home, right? Bucky thinks so. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #soft!dark bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x florist!reader #rolling into spring writing challenge #roosminimarch #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

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shamrockqueen · 1 month

Text

Omega Retreat : Chapter 3

Pairing : Alpha Bucky x Omega reader

Warnings : R18, Eventual Smut, reference to physical ailments

Word count : 2083

Masterlist

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

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

You tried to focus on your work, but you found yourself losing focus time and time again. Your eyes kept leaving the dull glow of your computer monitor to steal glances at your phone.

“You seem distracted.”

Her tone was playful, but the abrupt interruption still had you jumping in your seat. Your boss had snuck up behind you easily as you were rechecking your email on your phone.

“Geez, we’ll have to string a bell around you if you're going to sneak up on people.” You laughed back, reassured by her coy smile.

“Something’s got you in a good mood.” She hummed behind you.

“Oh, yeah I guess.” You try to hide your pink cheeks, too embarrassed over getting caught texting a new flame like a love-struck teenager.

“All the girls can smell the change. Even the betas, dear.” She sang back.

“Who is he?” She tried to hide her beaming smile behind the back of her hand as she leaned over on the wall of your cubicle.

You scoff, trying to cover your warm cheeks as you answer. “You sound more excited than my mother was.”

She gasped with a wide smile, like a schoolgirl getting gossip from a friend. Omega’s always connected more closely, and it warmed your heart that she could be equally happy for you. So, when she leaned in for a hint of another scent that may have been left to linger on your skin, you quickly answered the anticipation in her eyes.

“We haven’t met in person yet; you're not going to catch a whiff of him, so don’t bother trying.” You laughed up at her before she pulled away.

“No fun. You could at least tell me what he is.” You knew it had to be the question bugging her the most.

You hesitated for a second, biting back on your lip before whispering back, “An alpha.”

“I knew it!” She nearly jumped with delight, leading you to try and shush her before the other cubicles were privy to your personal business.

It made you happy that you could feel like you had bonds even at work, and we’re thankful for her gentle omega nature.

“Keep your voice down.”

“I’m sorry; I’m just so happy for you. After everything, I just..”

You didn’t want her to finish that sentence. Luckily for you, she wouldn’t, looking back into your saddened eyes instead. “I’m just so happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You think you’ll meet him soon?”

You chuckled alongside her, glad to have the conversation shift back to a lighter tone.

“We’ll see. We’ll see.” You shoo at her, hoping to get some of the work she’d given you done today.

She gets the message, realizing she’d been gushing for too long and had work of her own.

“Fine, but I expect an invite to that wedding.”

It was the last you heard of her before she walked back to her office.

You smiled back at your computer, a drab Excel sheet still painted over its background. You sighed back at it until a telltale ding rang across your previously ignored phone.

A relationship with an alpha was still scary, but Bucky seemed to dampen those worries every time you looked at his photo blipping over your screen.

You pulled the phone towards you to glance over the notification of Bucky’s message.

“I wait to see you tonight.” You read along with the small message box.

You ran your fingernail along the power button before pressing on it, letting the passcode window light up the screen before tapping on a handful of numbers.

You looked back at the few cubicles behind you, making sure you had a moment to answer.

“Me either. I can’t focus on work,” you typed fervently.

“I’d rather meet you in person, Omega." The message pops up in the next second.

You let out a breathy chuckle with a smile, still in disbelief that you could be his omega even in text.

“I know. Hopefully soon, but I’m excited about our video date.”

You were more than excited; it was all you could think about as the hours ticked away slower than they normally would. When 5 p.m. finally rolled around, you nearly lept from your seat. You nearly forgot to shut off your computer before grabbing your stuff and rushing away.

A giddy drive home was a delightful change of pace, spurring you to drive just a tick above the speed limit as you neared your little house.

You fly through the house, letting the door slam behind you before tossing your purse over the couch. You stumbled past the mirror, only to twist back towards it after catching sight of your messy hair.

Your fingers only tangle into it as you fight to take it out of its messy bun. You only tied it up halfway through the day for a little comfort, only to ruin all the work you put into it that morning.

You didn’t have any time to fuck with it now, yet you continue to burn through the few seconds you have left trying to tame your tired looks. Could each flyaway be seen through your laptop's webcam?

You stopped for a second, closing your eyes and sucking in an uneven breath before looking back up at your reflection.

You looked red—nothing new, of course—but not a face you wanted him to see, and yet there wasn’t anything you could do to fight it except to finally calm down.

Your hair wasn’t bad, and your reflection wasn’t meant to scare you, and as you continued to breathe, that red blush began to fade. You can do this.

You leave the mirror, setting your eyes on the laptop still sitting on the coffee table. You lowered yourself to the sofa to sit as comfortably as possible before pulling the computer to your lap and switching it on.

A brief photo of you with your arm wrapped around your mother’s shoulder flashed in the background of your screen before you set up the video call.

It was just more of those bouncing dots with a different ring as it all danced along a blue screen. You held your breath, waiting patiently for his image to take over. Yet, when the square zoomed over the page and movement took over your screen, every ounce of air seemed to force its way from your lungs.

He was there, tucking his hair behind his ear and smiling at his own screen as you gave a shocked smile.

“Hi!”

You mouthed back an overwhelmed ‘hi’ as you watched him intently. Your mouth moved in an attempt to form words, but you were far too mesmerized by the real alpha on your screen. That is, until his smile fell.

“Is your sound on? I can’t hear you.”

“Yes!” You were quick to reassure him, wanting desperately to see that smile set upon you again.

Just as you hoped, it was back in an instant after hearing your voice.

“Sorry, I was just a little speechless for a second.” You blinked at his image, wanting to make sure it was real as you spoke to it. “It’s amazing to finally see the real you. Not that I thought your photos were fake..uh it’s just.” You fought your way through your ramblings as he chuckled at your giddy and nervous demeanor.

“No, I know what you mean. It’s so exciting to finally see you, Omega.”

It was like a dream, finally laughing and talking where you could see one another and study each of his expressions as he took each word that left your stuttering lips. Hours pass, and the conversation continues to burn through the night as it’s carried happily between the two of you.

It was so much better, but not nearly enough. A frustration shared by both you and him began to show as the veneer hiding it broke away.

“But, I wanna bury my face in your neck.” His voice deepens, showing a glimpse at a small possessive side. It was something you’d initially feared from an alpha.

“I gotta see you for real.”

It’s so sudden, you could hardly believe it would always be like this for omegas, but how could someone who had shut themselves away for so long really know?

You think back on what others spoke of during their tales of pleasure and even the more harrowing words from your physician only a few weeks prior. They’d cut off your suppressants ‘for your own safety’, and urged you to seek a sexual partner in the most blatant terms. But, they weren’t wrong, and with another possibly fatal heat on the horizon, you had to make a very difficult choice.

“Maybe we should. It's just...” You stopped for a second to calm yourself. “It hasn’t been very long, and you're already..so smitten.”

“Can you blame me?” His voice rang low over the speaker yet still sang through your worries so melodically.

His tone drops, becoming more serious and heavy, so much so that it only echos the ever-grave voice that bounced around the back of your mind. “What are you scared of?”

It hit close to home, like he could be looking right through you and seeing every mounting fear you tried so hard to bottle up.

“It's just, with a heat coming in a couple weeks..” you tried to ignore the breaking of your own voice as you spoke. You didn’t want this to be the reason why, and you didn’t want it to be so soon that you two had to meet or finally be intimate. “...and I just don’t want to rush things. But I agree; maybe we should consider meeting in person soon."

You fought not to let your true emotions show and not to let your true fears come to light in front of him. It was a relief when his face lit up with so much joy. He just stared back at you, his eyes beaming through the screen.

You could nearly cry. After ripping off this first bandage, it was such a relief that you finally felt you could breathe properly. You chuckled happily together, taking in each other's joyous reaction when he finally spoke again.

“I can send you an invitation right away. I can be there for you.” He spoke so passionately, looking at you with big, wet blue eyes before typing away at the keys on his keyboard.

“W-what invitation?” You nearly coughed on the words as they left your throat.

You do think back on the vacation packages on the original website and how they boasted about safety as well as elegance. The thought of having that kind of special getaway with the Alpha often, finally seeing Bucky where the sun could hit his skin instead of in the glow of your laptop monitor.

But, he was still technically a stranger, in spite of the two of you consistently sharing messages over the course of several weeks. Running away with him seemed, in the most juvenile sense, stupid. Yet, a twinge in your stomach urged you to leap at his offer.

“It is such a beautiful resort.” You chuckled nervously. You recalled all the photos you’d scrolled through before he’d matched you on the website.

“I’ll meet you anywhere you want me to, Omega. I just want to feel you so bad.” The low drag of his voice wasn’t unfamiliar by now, after having heard similar sentiments during a steamier exchange over a phone call. You felt a little embarrassed as your skin started to flush again.

“I don’t want to make you spend that much money on me.”

"This is not about money. I just want everything to be perfect for you.”

You try to force yourself to speak, but each word falls flat on your tongue. He was offering you what felt like a lifeline with open arms. You never wanted something like this to progress so damn quickly, but maybe you were really that desperate. Maybe you were really that scared.

It was so nice to be wanted, and by him especially, an alpha unlike any other you’d ever met. You still wanted time to think about it, but what time do you have left before a possible disaster? The date of your heat was growing closer, but you had to afford at least a night to ponder something like this.

“C-can I have a few days to think about it?”

Chapter 4

Tag list : @serendipitouslife90 @unicornicopia1 @bethyruth @scott-loki-barnes @wintrsoldrluvr @buckysdoll85 @lendeluxe @meowmeowyoongles @heletsmelovehim @mcira @buckysbaby-doll

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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months

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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, non-con, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", mating, breeding, hate to strong affection, yandere, kid fic

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

Masterlist

Daddy's Home (Series teaser)

Episode 1: A Clever, Tricky Little Kitty Cat: Just like Her Mommy

Episode 2: Taking Back What's His

Episode 3: The Lap of Luxury

Episode 4: Motherhood Suits You

Episode 5: Should've Done this Years Ago

Epilogue: A Storybook Romance Once Again

Nickname Dictionary: vorishka = "little thief" mamochka = "mommy/little mother" kotenok= "kitty/kitten" omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega omegechka = (made up) "little omega" shlyukha = "slut" krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one" milashka = "cutie patootie" malen'kiy = "little one" malyshka = "little girl" pchelka = "little bee"

@cjand10, @violetwinterwidow01, @ppbhquinn, @myfavbuckyfics, @liannafae, @sadsackssss, @timidquindim, @dakotali, @rayofdawnworld, @wintrsoldrluvr, @lindasweetie

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urdepressedslut · 10 months

Text

Tears of an Angel ❝part two❞

♡ Pairing: The Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Unbeknownst to you, lots of time has passed and Bucky still hasn’t come back. You begin to wonder if he was ever real in the first place. There’s someone new. The Soldat— who is he?

♡ Warnings: HEAVY ANGST, some fluff, hydra, bucky’s trauma, torture, needles, abuse, hints to sexual assault

part one ✧ main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+

You wondered how many times you could count the amount of stones on the walls before a guard approached your cell again— dragging you into the horrific room. The room that only held vile memories— ones that had you shuddering.

Ever since you had been left alone again— ever since Bucky was gone— you had lost track of time completely. Everyday blurring into one another, there wasn’t a pause in time. Every morning leaked into the night without recognition. It was disorienting and made you feel out of touch.

You rarely talked— the only sound of your screams ever escaping your lips. You would go so many days without uttering a sound— the slightest talking ached your throat. Your voice hoarse at the end of the day, with only six words leaving your lips.

You could hear the manic laughter as the guards teased you about being mute. Cackling sinisterly at the idea that they had broken you. In a way they had.

You weren’t sure why you were still here, and what your purpose was. You were sure you had an idea one time in your life— but with how things are now. You remember nothing, know nothing— are nothing. Well, you remember nothing but him.

Even after all this time, you still pathetically clung to Bucky. Hoping in your sick and demented mind that he’d come back for you one day— that he’d remember you just as you had him. But as the days melted into the other, you weren’t sure if that would ever be the case. But what harm would it bring you to hold onto the tiny hope.

The door unlocking to your cell had you jumping in surprise, having been lost in your head it spooked you. But otherwise, you sat still— even if the pain didn’t even start, you wished for it to end already.

You heard the door open completely and the sound of two footsteps enter.

“Soldat— take her to Room C.” One of the guards instructed, and you wanted to furrow your brows at the name.

Soldat?

“да сэр (yes sir).” A thick russian accent answered, and you risked a glance up.

You were disappointed to meet a half covered face, forehead curtained by thick brunette locks. It was definitely a man considering how deep the voice was. His lower half was muzzled— like a dog. But the look was certainly intimidating.

The Soldat grabbed your arm harshly, yanking you up— not giving you a second to steady yourself. You whined, the bruise on your collarbone shifting from the movement.

Ignoring your sounds, he dragged you out of your cell and down the hall towards the room of nightmares. You weren’t sure how much more pain you could take— you wish the darkness would just consume you already.

The guard had disappeared by now, leaving you and the Soldat alone. You weren’t sure if you should celebrate or not. The guards were harsh— mean. The Soldat so far has been aggressive— but you guessed that was nothing new.

“Please— don’t!” You whimpered when you could see the door to the room ahead.

You felt eyes on you, and you glanced to the side— your glossy eyes meeting with his dull ones. His stare gave you goosebumps, the fury hidden behind his eyes. Towards you? You weren’t sure— if so, why?

He didn’t respond, snapping his focus back ahead of him. Pulling you more aggressively towards the doorway. You could smell the room from here— even many steps away. You felt sick to your stomach, knowing what was to come.

“I’ll do anything, please! Don’t take me in there!” You cried quietly, as you tried to pull away from him— your feet attempting to plant you in your spot.

The Soldat whipped his muzzled face to you, his eyes wide with anger and something else. He wastes no time in trying to come up with a response— instead scooping you into his arms.

You gasped at the sudden movement, and didn’t try to wiggle out of his hold— as he was much stronger than you. You crying and walking to the room was already draining you of all your energy. With your weeks spent sitting in your cell— the walk from your cell to your room was tiring.

You continued to cry quietly, and noticed how close you were to him. He smelled of sweat and gunpowder— but also a familiar musk. A particular gust of the scent wafted into your face. It had you stopping your cries, looking up at him. At the same time he glanced down.

You blamed it on your delirious state— but you swore you saw his eyes.

Bucky.

Your mind wandered to the memories of his face through the gap. The way he held onto your hand— the feeling of comfort in this hell. The way you believed he was going to save you. Fuck— he couldn’t even save himself. You hated him, but you missed him more.

All too soon, the flashes of memories faded away into the abyss that was your mind. Coming back to reality, you felt the Soldat lower you onto the steel table. You immediately panicked, thrashing your limbs about.

“No! Please please!” You begged, grabbing his wrist in a tight grip. “Don’t leave me here!”

You weren’t sure why you begged this man for help when he was the one who brought you here. Meanwhile, the Soldat was confused. Your begging was sparking something inside of him. Something foreign yet familiar— it made him uncomfortable.

You watched as the Soldat grabbed your wrist— to the hand that held onto him tightly. He squeezed painfully, prying your hand off him. With a cry you had released him— your wrist throbbing from his hold.

He escaped your hold, turning to the right to exit the room— and that’s when you saw it. The sickly familiar flash of silver— his metal arm.

It’s Bucky… it has to be. Bucky.

Your cries went silent, your body going into shock that Bucky was so close. He was standing in front of you, in the flesh. He had held you— touched you. You were right when you had seen his eyes— you knew it was his eyes. The familiar smell. The familiarity that was his whole aura. He was here… so why was he treating you like a prisoner?

“Bucky?” You tried, desperate for his comfort as you had back in your cell.

He didn’t budge, simply continuing to walk out of the room. Leaving you alone in the torturous space. Your heart broke at him ignoring you— if he had heard you.

You wanted to call out again, but was interrupted by the door slamming shut. It was Bucky— he was here. You just needed to know what happened to him. Why he was acting like he didn’t know you.

You were left in shock, unaware of the scrawny doctors entering the room. You were stuck in a state of confusion— but also knowing just what was going on.

You didn’t want to believe it, he wouldn’t. Hydra wouldn’t. Yeah right.

A prick into your arm had you jumping, whipping your wide eyes to the doctors.

“Sleep now— you’ll wake soon.” The nasal voice whispered to you.

You weren’t sure if the fact that you’d be unconscious during your torture would be worse— not knowing what body part they’d be prodding. A part of you knew this was a true gift— not being able to feel and experience the pain. You’d be violated, yes. But you’d escape the agony— and that’s all you cared about.

The room spun for a little bit, until everything faded into darkness. You could only hope that it was the permanent darkness you’d been praying for— but you were never that lucky.

The sounds of metal clinking together had you jolting in your sleep hazed mind, the fog heavy in your brain. Your limbs felt heavy, like someone had tied weights onto your arms and legs. Your body was sore, even the slightest movement uncomfortable.

The metal clinking had you jumping again, and it was the sound of shoes shuffling against the floor that made you realize that you weren’t alone. Forcing your eyelids to lift, you could only see a blurry silhouette of someone standing over you.

You groaned in pain, as your body shook violently in agony.

What had they done to you?

The thought of not knowing had your skin crawling, the same feeling of wanting to rip your flesh off— coming back full force.

The longer you kept your eyes open, the blurriness started to clear, and soon you were staring into the eyes of him. Bucky.

But was it really him? You had assumed it was a him because of the metal arm— as no one else had one in this facility. Or so you knew of. But you still had that sliver of unknowing with him wearing the mask

His gaze was intense, his eyes full of a certain fury— but it wasn't towards you. His eyebrows were almost stuck in a furrowed manner, like he was always disturbed. He didn't shy away from your stare, if anything he held your gaze in a pleading manner— almost like he wanted you to see something hidden behind the striking blue.

"Bu—" You attempted but broke out into a cough, caused by the dryness in your throat, " Bucky... it's you."

His blues darted down to your mouth, watching the words slip past your lips. His eyes burned with confusion, like the simple spoken words were so confusing.

To you, it wasn't confusing. To him— he couldn't quite understand this nagging feeling that threatened to split his brain apart.

Who was Bucky? He thought.

It was a mixture of fear of the unknown feeling, but with that came an odd wave of comfort. He didn't understand why a prisoner like you would bring him anything of comfort.

You watched the war enrage in his mind, and you could almost hear the internal battle happening. His eyes flashed with pain, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips frantically.

"Bucky, please stop acting like you don't remember me— I'm scared! Please!" You begged, forgetting your condition. You'd be nothing but dead weight with your limp body, as you were unable to sit up by yourself.

His eyes grew practically red with anger, and turned away towards the cell door. His metal arm whirred by his side, his flesh hand twitching in frustration. You felt the fear fill your body as he turned away, his body facing the door— you didn't want him to leave you.

"Don't leave... please." You whispered, your voice breaking at the end.

He slowly turned his body to face you, the desperation in your voice sparking something yet again within him. He hated it but clung to it at the same time. Without controlling himself, he had kneeled in front of you. Without uttering a word— he stared. Taking in every detail etched into your face. Your skin, the lines, the indents— everything that he was sure he'd forget by the next mission.

He found himself memorizing your features, and he wasn't sure why. He was shocked to find your features familiar— the nagging feeling coming full force. Knocking the air from his lungs as he struggled to breathe through the muzzle.

"Thank you." You whispered, your eyelids feeling heavy again and you were afraid to shut them— worried he'd be gone the next time you open them.

He didn't say anything back as he just stared at you with a longing gaze— his breathing heavy and fanning through the muzzle.

You wanted to ask him why he was here with you in your cell, seeing as there was no point. But instead, you found yourself lifting your frail hand— hovering your fingertips above the mask.

He instinctively flinched away, his head jolting back from your reach. You paused your hand in mid air— staring at him with glossy eyes. Watching him cower away from your touch, the way his eyes held fear. The blue in his eyes stormy— haunted.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you— don't think I could if I tried." You tried to joke through the tightness in your throat.

His eyes widened slightly at your words, and you quickly clarified.

"But I won't hurt you— I won't even try." You promised to him, holding his eyes with such genuineness it had shocked him.

He sucked in a quiet breath, easing his head back to your hand. You kept your hand still, waiting patiently as he leaned into your fingertips— deepening his push until your entire hand palmed his muzzled face.

As he waited for the pain to come from your touch— he found the pain had never come. He was leaned against you and he felt comforted. Your touch was soft, and even through the muzzle he could feel the warmth coming from your clammy hand.

"See... I'm not hurting you." You whispered weakly, your body curling inwards— throbbing with a wave of pain.

The brunette's eyes widened in panic, darting all over your body— frantically searching your being for the cause of your pain.

You recovered quickly, the pain passing as fast as it had arrived. Now it had left you weak and sluggish— the tensing of your muscles tiring your already frail body. You met his worried eyes again, the sight refreshing— to know he had a soul after all. His empty behavior was worrying you for the longest time— unsure if he was even your Bucky still.

"M'fine... just tired." You mumbled, unsure if he could even understand you— but you were too tired to care.

Your eyes shut only for a few seconds, and thats when you heard the sound of buckles unfastening. The sound had you cracking your eyes back open, a gasp of surprise escaping your lips at the sight of his fully exposed face. He had taken off the muzzle.

It was your Bucky.

Your dry and cracked lips broke into a smile, one that would never reach your eyes. Despite the hollow look he sported, and the way he didn't even look like himself in little glimpses— you were happy to see him. Enjoying the quiet moment— the peace that came with his company. It all came flooding back into this cell as it did in the last one. The gap in the wall that had you two connecting— clinging to each other.

A sharp inhale had you snapping from your daydream, your eyes focusing back on his face. His blues were shining with unshed tears— almost like he was unable to let them fall. He crawled closer to your crumpled form on the bench in the cell— his hands resting near your body, but just enough where his knuckles could brush against you.

His lip quivered in frustration, needing to say so much— but knowing he didn't have enough time.

"It's okay... I've got you." You mirrored from the very first time he had comforted you through the gap.

His breathing slowed and he looked like he had instantly relaxed— letting his guard just slightly. But with that, came the flood of tears that ached to be freed. The emotions he had muted, painfully burning from him. It was too much and not enough at the same time.

He sobbed, leaning his forehead down to your arm. Bowing before you in a way— hiding his face away by smushing into you.

You just sat still, keeping your arms by your side— unsure if your affection would be welcomed. His cries broke your heart— his whimpers making your stomach knot up. You were broken beyond repair, but if you could you'd take away all his pain.

Both of you were stuck— trapped in what felt like an enteral hell. There was no end to the tortuous tunnel and you both knew that.

At least with each other— you wouldn't suffer alone.

A/N: sorry if there is spelling errors, i did a quick proof read once but it was awhile ago🤍

If you want to be added

TAGLIST: @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years

Text

Day 23 — Overstimulation

Pairing || Stalker!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 700

Contents & Warnings || Smut, Dark — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, non-con, explicit content/language, pet names, obsessive/stalker behaviour, break-in, restraints, forced orgasm, multiple orgasms, squirting, begging, praising, sex toys, mention of bodily fluids.

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

Kinktober Masterlist

“No, no, no, pleeease,” you begged the man, but to no use, as another surge of blinding ecstasy struck you hard, making you scream and convulse on the bed uncontrollably. The restraints that held you made it impossible for you to move your hands or close your bound legs to make the painful pleasure stop, making him smirk as he watched you struggle. At this point, there was no use in fighting the man overstimulating you for his needs and sadistic pleasure.

He towered over your limp and bare body with a wicked smirk playing on his lips and darkness swimming in his eyes. There was a sinister tone laced in his voice as he spoke, with a surprising hint of softness and care buried deep in it.

“I will not stop. Not when I have you tied up and to my every mercy. I will take advantage of you and watch you come undone again and again until you're nothing but a sensitive and overstimulated mess for me.”

“I-I can't,” you sobbed at his promise of more stimulation while tears streamed down your face.

“Yes, you can. You have to, for me. I've wanted you for weeks, my precious doll. I've been watching you. Yearning for you for so long now. And now, when I finally have you, I'm never letting go.” His words made you shudder in fear and hidden desire.

He placed a light and tender kiss on your clammy cheek. His warm breath tingled your skin as he uttered his last words. “I'll take care of you, baby, I promise.”

As promised, he pressed the vibrator to your overstimulated and abused clit again, intending to make you come and squirt for him even more. He placed himself near your dripping and quivering pussy, wanting to watch very closely as he brought forth another earth-shattering and toe-curling orgasm.

He turned on the powerful toy at full strength, making you cry, and your body tensed up as an instant surge of electricity coursed through your nerves. The lines between pleasure and pain overlapped, making you almost numb to the sensation, but at the same time, you've never been so aware of your body and mind as of right now.

You began to toss and writhe on the sheets as you neared your ecstasy for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. Involuntarily, your hips bucked into the vibrator, desperate for more stimulation on your throbbing clit. You tried to grasp onto something, anything, to keep yourself firm and solid as it became too much for you to bear.

“Attagirl,” the man sneered as he observed that you were indeed needy for the stimulation despite not knowing yourself.

“O-oh my goood,” you sobbed as your mind went fuzzy and white as another intense rush of bliss and cruel pleasure travelled through each and every nerve ending in your sensitive body. Your eyes rolled back into your skull, hips thrusting up and legs shaking as your walls contracted around nothing, and your clit throbbed violently against the vibrator as it never stopped stimulating you, continuing to draw out your orgasm and making you squirt uncontrollably.

After what felt like several minutes of excruciating pleasure, you lay once more limp and sore as you panted heavily after the absolute mess the man had made of you. No thoughts in your brain whatsoever.

“You did so well, my precious doll,” he praised.

You hoped that he would show you mercy now, but it didn't seem like he was thoroughly done and satisfied with you just yet as he shoved two fingers into your deprived pussy, making you shriek, and his lips ghosted your swollen and abused bundle of nerves.

“P-please,” you begged in a whine, not even sure for what at this point—for him to stop or keep on going.

“I'm still not done with you, baby,” he murmured before taking your raw clit captive between his lips, ready to draw out even more from you until you were all used up and empty.

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

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nickfowlerrr · 10 months

Text

for the hope of it all.

pairing: greedy!lee bodecker x curvy!reader

warnings: angst. bit of fluff. mentions of reader x arvin and lee x wife. little flashback to pregnant reader. uhhh, there’s a baby. if i’m missing something important please feel free to let me know.

also lmk if i should tag this as dark!lee please bc i can’t decide if it needs it or not.

words: 3.2k

notes: my first written fic for my writing event. i spun the wheel and got greed and then spun another wheel and got lee and a few hours later here we are lol. please let me know what you think! comments and feedback are so, so appreciated. thank you in advance to everyone who reads and reblogs. 🖤

“Please, Lee. Please,” you whispered, voice breaking on the desperate plea as the stray tear you’d been fighting to keep at bay finally slipped down your cheek.

You were quick to wipe it away, shaking your head and looking away from the gaze of the man before you. The smirk that graced his face was the whole reason you had refused to let yourself cry, despite wanting to break down the moment he’d knocked on your door.

You’d just set Teddy in his crib, watching him a moment as the newborn slept peacefully, his tiny breaths and little movements making your heart clench.

You never knew you could love someone so much until you had him. Despite the pain and all the hardships that you’d faced from the day you met his daddy, as you watched Theodore, you were sure you wouldn’t change any of it if it meant never having had him.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard a car pull up the drive. You didn’t check the window, sure you knew who it was already as you went to greet him.

Before you were even halfway down the steps, an unnecessarily loud pounding sounded from the front door.

You were startled for a second, brows furrowing as you rushed down the last few steps to open it before whoever it was could pound again and wake the baby.

You were sure now, though, it definitely wasn’t Arvin. He’d never be so careless to knock that loudly, even if he’d left his key and was locked out.

When you pulled the door open in a bit of a huff, your breath froze in your chest.

As you met the hard blue eyes of the man you’d been avoiding for the past 11 months, you weren’t sure what to do. So, you stayed as you were, blocking his view of the house as you pulled the door more closely to your body and watched him. You wouldn’t speak first. You weren’t sure you could.

“Been a while, darlin’.” He greeted, though his words were cold and stiff, as if he was trying to hold in the anger you could see raging in his eyes.

You swallowed hard. “How can I help you, Sheriff?” you asked, ignoring his comment.

He scoffed as he looked down on you. “That’s how you wanna do this, sugar? Fine,” he said before shoving his way into the house.

You were in shock as he pushed past you, your first instinct to yell at him was held back by the knowledge that your baby was asleep just up the stairs.

“What the hell are you doing? You can’t just barge in here because you’re police,” you nearly seethed as you follow him while he walked further in, going toward the kitchen while he looked around the place.

He spun on you at your words and stopped you in your spot. “Honey, I can do whatever the hell I want. Because I’m the sheriff,” he snarled in your face before he backed up just the slightest. He adjusted his belt as he stood to his full height and licked his teeth, trying to compose himself.

“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you, sweetheart,” he started, your heart dropping instantly. “That boyfriend a’yours seems to have gotten himself into some trouble downtown.”

Your mouth went dry as you stared at him dumbly. “No,” you shook your head. “Arvin wouldn’t do anything to get into any kind of trouble. What are you- what are you talking about?” you tried to stay calm, but the stutter was surely telling enough.

“Down at the shop,” he began, taking his time, seemingly enjoying the sight of your anxiousness written all over your face, “he had some words with Levi. Guess the kid made a comment about his girl. Imagine my surprise to find out that girl was you,” he detoured.

“What happened,” you asked pointedly, all while trying to keep your composure and your voice down.

“Well, Mr. Russell didn’t take too kindly to the things Levi said. Lost his temper. I’ll spare you the details, sweetheart. Long story short, Levi’s up at the hospital. Your little boyfriend is up at the jailhouse, waitin’ for his hearin tomorrow mornin’.”

You felt sick. This wasn’t Arvin’s first time in jail but you remember what he told you last time, the judge said one more strike and he’d be taken to county. Arvin wasn’t a bad man. He was one of the best men you’d ever known. But he did have a bit of a short fuse when it came to defending the people he loved. You’d known that since you were in school together. It was one of the things you’d always admired about him..

The one thing you were confused about right now though, was why in the hell Lee was here telling you this.

“Is he okay?” you asked quietly. The narrowing of Lee’s eyes as he looked at you, and the tick of his jaw at your question had your stomach twisting.

“Aw, ain’t that sweet. Look at you, all worried about him.”

“Lee,” you said.

“He’ll be fine,” he gruffed as he went into your fridge and took one of Arvin’s beers. You were in too much of a stupor to do or say anything about it, though.

As you watched him take a swig, your eyes finally fell on his bloodied knuckles.

You took a step back, as if he’d slapped you, somehow knowing exactly how he'd done that.

“What did you do?” you said, accusingly as you reached out and held onto the wall beside you.

“Told ya' I was surprised to hear the girl he was so concerned with, whose honor he needed to protect so badly, was you. I thought you were long gone, sweetheart. But when your name came up, I knew I’d been wrong. Knew you were somewhere out here. Took a bit to finally get him to tell me where you were, but,” he flexed his hand, “they all break in the end.”

You were seeing red at his words. He'd hurt Arvin, and for what? You couldn't let him do this, couldn't let him get to you so easily.

"You need to leave, Lee. Now. If I wanted you to know where I was, you would've. I told you I wasn't gonna wait around for you. You made your choice. So go," you said firmly as you could manage through your tight throat.

You stayed still as he set the bottle down on the counter, stalking over to you. You only blinked when he was right in front of you as you took a shaky breath in and out.

"My choice was you," he said as he pinned you against the wall, his arms trapping you. But you weren't scared. Just solemn. The hurt that never went away radiating in your soul.

"...No, it wasn't," you refuted, voice quiet as you shook your head, looking him in the eye. "It was the job. It was her. You just wanted me to be your good little whore on the side," you continued, disgusted with him and yourself, thinking about the times you let him touch you. The times you gave yourself to him. You should have known from the beginning. Maybe a part of you always did. The only way you'd get your happily ever after was if Lee chose to give it to you.

Lee Bodecker was a selfish, greedy man. He wanted it all, he didn't want to choose. But he had. Whether he acknowledged it or not, he made his choice. As much as it hurt, you had to accept that it wasn't you.

"You know that ain't fuckin' true," he snarled, holding your chin tightly in his hand as you looked up at him. His voice softened as he looked back at you. "I meant all I said to you, darlin'. I love you," he said as he pressed his forehead to yours. "If you'da just been patient," he breathed hotly, "we'd be together right now. I'da got rid of her, just like I told you I would."

The pain slipping into his voice was like daggers in your heart. You wanted so badly to believe him, but you were always told how gullible you were. Especially with Lee, you'd buy into anything he said if he said it prettily enough.

You had known you had to leave town, get away, or else you'd just run right back to him, or he'd find you and convince you to stay. You told everyone you were leaving, making sure word got around, and it did. He was too preoccupied in his campaign to bother doing anything about it, or maybe he just didn't believe you'd actually go. You weren't sure which it was.

You had enlisted the help of Arvin to assist you in packing, he had always been a good friend to you and wanted to do whatever he could. The last day you were packing away, though, you got another bout of morning sickness in front of him.

It was like Arvin knew before you did that you were pregnant. But he never left. He was there for you. Held you when you cried, assured you everything would be okay as you spilled your heart out to him, telling him everything. Instead of moving out of town like you had planned, you moved in with Arvin.

Time seemed to pass you by so quickly from then on. One day Arvin was holding your hair back for you as you emptied your stomach into his toilet, and the next he was holding your hand as you pushed through tears of pain and heartbreak while you delivered your baby in the next town over.

When the nurse had taken Teddy, you were an inconsolable mess of guilt and heartache. Arvin was right there with you, had been from the very start, but he wasn't Lee.

You were crying because Lee should have been there, should have been the one holding your hand and wiping your tears, you should have told him that you were having his baby. The guilt was crushing. Not only for having kept your pregnancy from him, but because the man who stayed beside you the entire time deserved so much better than a broken girl who was still in love with the man who broke her heart. It wasn't fair to any of you.

And then the nurse came back over, holding a blue swaddled bundle in her arms. You timidly took your baby as she handed him over to you and the second you laid your eyes on him, all thoughts just went away. The only thing you could focus on was this precious little life you held in your arms. And though your tears kept flowing, they were of overwhelming joy as you looked down at your sweet Teddy.

Teddy.

You heard him cry and your eyes went wide as Lee kept his hold on you.

Another cry as you swallowed thickly, sure your face was full of desperation as you surveyed Lee.

His brows furrowed as he looked in the direction of the living room, dropping his hand as he moved closer to the noise.

You scurried past him, stopping him from starting up at the stairs.

"Lee," was all you could manage to say.

He looked at you incredulously. "That a baby cryin' up there?" he asked rigidly.

You couldn't breathe. You didn't know what to do. Your guilt was written clear as day on your face as you pouted at him, watering puppy dog eyes pleading with him, for what you weren't sure.

"I'll say this once, then I'm not gonna be nice about it, darlin'. Either answer me or get outta my way."

Still no words could form on your tongue. When he stepped to get up the stairs, you let him pass you before turning around and quickly following him.

Lee followed the sound of the newborn cries up to the nursery. When he got to the door, you watched as he took a steadying breath before he pushed in, like he was readying himself for the sight he knew he'd be met with.

He walked slowly to the crib where Theodore was laying, crying for attention.

Lee's mouth was agape as he looked down at the baby.

Two pairs of brilliantly blue eyes staring back at one another.

You knew Lee knew instantly, there was no denying it. Teddy was his mini me. He looked exactly like his father.

You watched as Lee carefully reached down and took Teddy in his big arms, holding him safely and smiling down at him as Teddy calmed in his hold.

Your nose was tingling and it took everything in you not to burst into tears at the sight.

"What's his name?" Lee asked in a hushed tone.

"Theodore," you answered just as softly.

Theo's baby garbling had Lee laughing as he cooed down at his son. You swore you could see the gleam in Lee's eyes as he watched him.

After a sniff and a clearing of his throat, Lee's gaze shot back to you. Accusatory and angry, his hurt underlining all of it.

"You had my baby, and were just gonna keep 'im from me?"

"No, no I- I was gonna. Gonna tell you. I wanted to, I just didn't know.." you trailed off, wringing your hands.

"Didn't know what?"

"How," you answered. "Didn't know how to. Didn't know how you'd react. Wasn't entirely sure you'd want to know."

"You think I wouldn't want to know that I have a kid?" he asked harshly. You took a step to him, holding your hand out instinctively to remind him that he had the baby in his arms.

"You're married, Lee. You're holding public office. I know you well enough to know that you don't want anything to mess with that. I don't think having a child with someone other than your wife would be looked on too favorably."

"I told you I'd get rid of her," he said again, lowly. "I will."

"Lee, please," you said, exasperated. "I'm sorry. I am. I should have told you, you had a right to know, but I can't do this with you. That's why I left. I do love you," you said brokenly, "I've never stopped. But I can't live my life just waiting for you to call when you want me. And I won't let you do that to Theo, either. He deserves a father who's around, who puts him as a priority,"

"Oh, and you think he'll have that with Arvin?" he challenged. "I wouldn't be too sure, sweetheart. Those charges really have a way of addin' up. Who knows how long of a sentence he'll be gettin' tomorrow."

You couldn't help but stress at his words. You knew some of what Lee had done before, and you know what he'd be willing to do now, to get his way. If he wanted Arvin put away, there wouldn't be anything you could do to stop it from happening.

You may not have been in love with Arvin, but you did love him. He was your best friend; you don't know what you'd be doing or even where you'd be right now if it weren't for his help and care. He didn't deserve to be punished for your mistakes; you couldn't let that happen.

"Why would you do that?" you asked, hurt lacing your voice. "What do you want from me, Lee?"

"You ain't dumb, honey. You know what I want," he said easily as he rocked Theo lightly while he gripped onto his daddy's finger, his big blue eyes falling closed as he drifted back to his peaceful sleep. Lee's blazing blue orbs met yours once more. "I want you. I want this, all a this with you, and him,” he said, sparing another glance to his baby boy.

“Please, Lee. Please,” you whispered, voice breaking on the desperate plea. "You can’t - He needs something stable. Real."

Lee assessed you for a moment before shaking his head with a slight scoff and a smirk. "This is real, darlin'. I'll give you both what you deserve. I just need a little time, that's all," he said as he set Theo back down in the basinet before turning back to you. "Can't make you my wife while I'm still married, but I'll get that taken care of quick. Then you and the baby can get settled in at home, we can finally be together. Just like we always talked about," he continued, taking your hands in his and pulling you in. "Havin' a family," he brought his hand up to tilt your face up to his, brushing his lips against yours. And you let him.

"And it'll be good for reelection next year, too. People like a family man."

You cringed and pulled away at that. At least you tried to, Lee's hold not let you get far at all.

"Don't be like that, darlin'. Come on, you know it'll be good for all of us. We can be happy," he said as his knuckles brushed your cheek.

The touch reminded you, "What about Arvin?"

"What about 'im?" he asked uninterested.

"You'll let him go," you state, grabbing his hand.

"I will," he agrees, "soon as you two are all moved in with me, I'll make sure he's released. Can't have you trying to run off on me again. I won't let you go so easy this time."

You swallowed back the cry that wanted to be let free as you looked at him. You hated that Arvin would have to suffer while you wait on Lee to keep his word. But what else can you do.

"How long?" you ask brokenly, eyes drifting over to the crib. "I can't do this alone."

"Won't be long, sweetheart. She's already been on her way out. A week, two tops. And you won't be alone. If you think for a minute I'd ever not be around for my child, you're outta your mind. If I’d a known sooner, I,” he cut himself off with a shake of his head. “I'll come over every night, check on ya both. You need somethin', you tell me. I'll show you I can take care'a you two better than that boy ever could."

Sweet words. Always so sweet coming from his lips. Your heart aches, for a million different reasons, as you let Lee come closer, pressing his lips to yours before his arms find their way around your frame.

And just like that, after nearly a year of not giving in to the temptation to see him, he has you once more, so easily. He gets what he wants. Just like he always does. Like he always will. You wonder briefly if it will ever be enough. You're not sure you want to know the answer.

"You've got no idea how much I've missed you, darlin'," he whispers against your lips. "Thought about you every damn day."

You feel the tears as they slip down your cheeks, a wave of relief falling over you under his touch, but the guilt still remains... It's just not enough to make you stop him. Not enough to want him to stop.

And the hope for your promised happily ever after renews in your heart. Because maybe you’ll finally get it, just how you pictured, with Lee by your side, starting your own little family.. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Lee Bodecker may be a selfish and greedy man.

But maybe you're no better.

#the seven writing event #nickfowlerrr’s writing event #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x plus size!reader #lee bodecker x curvy!reader #lee bodecker angst #dark!lee bodecker #soft!dark lee bodecker #soft dark lee bodecker #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x female reader #lee bodecker fic #sebastian stan characters

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