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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Secrets ~ 4

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series; spanking

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A buried family secret comes to light thrusting you to the forefront of an old alliance.

Note: Okey dokey, in for a long day but enjoy this while I’m away.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

After hours of Barnes’ relentless criticism and the ridiculous strutting, you were allowed a break. The stress, the jet lag, the anger. It all mounted and left you exhausted. You were shown to your room; grand despite your own treatment. It certainly fit the title of Duchess but had you wondering why your bearing didn’t allot you an ounce of authority. By his own logic, you should be ordering Barnes around.

You collapsed into the plush bed. You didn’t have the energy to admire the canopy, or the fancy furniture, or sheer luxury of the room alone. You fell into a heavy sleep but it did not relieve the turmoil of your mind. Your dreams swirled with Barnes’ unyielding voice, your mother’s home, the roaring plane, the looming portraits of queens glaring down at you. There was no escape.

You woke with a start, the heavy, feather duvet torn from around you. You sat up and let out a pathetic squeak as your vision was still blurry from your heavy sleep. You shook your head and drew your legs up as you stared at the man who let the blanket slump across the bottom of your bed. He tilted his head as he looked back at you, as disapproving as always.

“Time to get up,” Barnes announced.

You hugged your legs and huffed. “Holy shit, dude. You could’ve just set an alarm.”

“Hmpf,” He hung his head as his hands went to his hips and he pursed his lips.

He stood straight, determined, and marched around the bed to you. He grabbed your arm and tugged you to the edge of the bed, your legs slipped down as you were turned to look at him. He framed your chin with his hand and forced you to look up at him.

“First, that language. If I hear another word today and I will fulfill yesterday’s promise.” He warned. “Second, we do not address anyone as ‘dude’. It’s not proper. Third, this is what you wear to bed?”

You felt along the loose grey tee blindly, the front half tucked into your granny panties, and blanched. You shrugged to cover your discomfort.

“What is proper? Walking like I have a stick up my ass and preening over pompous jerks like some desperate debutante.”

“Again, Duchess, you tempt me to wash out that filthy mouth,” He squeezed and drew you up to your feet. “I will allow that you are tired; still waking up. I will have patience for…” He raised his other arm and checked his watch. “The next twenty minutes as you ready. After, the rules stand. No swearing, no slouching…” He released you and stepped back. “And smile, your highness. You’re much more endearing then.”

He smirked and gave a bow. Almost sarcastic. You weren’t entirely sure how a bow could be sarcastic but he’d figured it out. You narrowed your eyes at him as he left and when the door closed, you sat on the bed heavily and swore under your breath. Better to get it out now and not tempt the drill sergeant hounding your every move.

👑

Barnes awaited you. You wouldn’t say eagerly, more impatiently. He guided you along the polished, shining hallways of the palace. You could feel his side eye, the silent measure of your step. You tried to walk as he had bid you. Tried to stand as straight as you could, feet close together, head high. You felt stupid.

He stopped before a pair of double doors and turned back to you.

“This is the queen’s toilette. Queen Alaine furnished the room back in 1742 and since it has been left mostly the same aside from a few necessary updates.” He explained. “It is where the prospective brides are to refine themselves before their weddings. Remember, duchess, you’re foremost concern is pleasing the king.”

“Is it?” You asked dryly.

He took a sharp breath and his brows drew together. He blinked slowly and reached to the handle of the right door.

“You should be concerned,” He said as he turned to open the door. “If you make him unhappy, there is nothing I can do beyond your wedding day to help.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Helping me?” You asked.

“Whether you realise it or not.” He replied and held the door for you.

You entered and were met by a round room of mirrors. Every angle of you was reflected back at you and you turned, each glance at the glass gifting a new insecurity. Barnes entered behind you and pulled shut the door, another mirror on its rear. He came up behind you and hooked his arm around you, drawing you to the centre of the room.

“I have made appointments for stylists to come and deal with…” He waved a hand towards your face. “All of this. For now, we will outfit your royal wardrobe. Fortunately, several designers have sent over racks as a favour to the throne.” You didn’t miss his eyes as they focused on your reflection. “So…’ He turned you and led you to one of the mirrors, he reached to press on it and it clicked outward. He drew it open and nudged your forward. “Go on and start.”

“What?” You stopped in the doorway to the attached room hidden behind the mirror. Racks of clothing hung in varying shades from pastel to jewel to the darkest hues hung from the hangers.

“We must go through each item to make certain they are suitable and set aside any that require proper fitting,” He advise. “I will await your first selection in the next room,” He gestured behind him. “So that we can get a good look at it.”

You frowned. The idea of wearing clothing you didn’t choose in front of a dozen mirrors and a man you could hardly stand was assuredly a living hell. He grinned and closed the door behind him as he disappeared through it. You stomped your foot. He treated you so much like a child, you were starting to act like one. Or maybe he was giving you a complex.

You went to the first rack. A powder blue dress with long sleeves was the first. It was very Jackie O. You took the hanger and sat on the cushioned bench. You didn’t change right away. You felt as if it was another strip of your independence being ripped away from you. Well, given the situation, how much did you really have left?

You stood and laid the dress out as you undressed. You pulled on the dress and found it fit quite snugly. It wasn’t as matronly as it looked on the hanger. The back was an open vee with a thin strap across the top, while the front allowed a sense of modesty while hugging your figure. You hated it already.

You hesitated as you neared the door. You took a moment to let out a stream of curses under your breath and made yourself open it. You stepped through, Barnes sat on a stool and looked up at you, his eyes discerning as they took in every inch of you. He reached to trace the line of his jaw as he thought. He glanced at the mirrors and dropped his hand.

“The cut is great, the colour, not so much,” He remarked. “Red would be nice. If we were to go with blue, it would have to be darker. Something akin to the king’s colours.”

You crossed your arms. “Is that a no? Because I don’t like it.”

He chuckled. “I’m not concerned if you like it, duchess, my worry is the king’s satisfaction. If I cannot get you to behave as a lady, you must at least look like one.”

You pouted and dropped your arms. Fuck the king, you thought. You wanted to say it so badly. He seemed amused by your internal struggle as he laughed again.

“Put it on the empty rack with the pink tag and try the next,” He shifted on the stool. “We don’t have all day.”

You stomped back through to the room and threw the door closed. You shed the dress and hung it as he told you. You took the next, a canary yellow you were very wary off. Shorter sleeves, flouncy skirt. It would be cute if it wasn’t so cockatiel.

You changed and re-entered the cell of mirrors. Barnes tilted his head one way then the other. He smiled.

“I like it. Turn.” He spun his finger and you stayed as you were. “Go on, duchess, show off.”

You glared at him.

He stood and neared you. His expression turned stern as he came close and grasped your shoulders. He turned you and you faced your reflection all around you. His eyes roved down the back of the dress before he drew close and was nearly flush against you as he gazed at the mirror ahead of you.

“This is much more you, wouldn’t you agree? Younger, carefree?” His hands ran down your arms. “And I think the king would like something a bit more… innocent.”

You blinked in disgust and wriggled away from him.

“He looking for some pure maiden?” You spun to face him. “I’m afraid there’s not many of those anymore.”

“Our king isn’t stupid,” Barnes countered. “He is aware of feminine wiles but you will not mention any of your past… indiscretions to him. It would be an insult to your union.”

“And what about his?” You challenged. “I’m not stupid either. I’ve seen the articles, the photos.”

“A prince is allowed his mistakes,” Barnes said. “There are kings who’ve done worse. I am certain that you could name a few yourself given your extensive knowledge on the matter.”

“So a queen must be an abstinent cyborg?” You hissed.

“A queen must be what he king wants her to be,” Barnes came closer. “We’ve yet to see what he wants of you but we’ll do our best to guess,” He leaned in so that you felt his breath. “That dress goes on the rack with the white tag.”

He backed away and returned to his perch on the bench. He sat and stared at you, he fluttered his fingers impatiently.

“Well, go on,” He bid. “Or did you require help?”

You sneered and turned on your heel. You swept back into the side room and slammed the door. You wriggled free of the yellow mess and hung it. You went to the racks and grimaced at the array of tulle, silk, and satin. You took the next, a mint dress with sharp shoulders. The colour didn’t exactly match the silhouette.

You sat and held the dress in your lap. You felt the fabric between your fingers and sighed. You didn’t want to spend the rest of your life like some doll to be dressed and played with. You didn’t want to wear these stupid overpriced dresses and you didn’t want to marry a stranger who to this point had a penchant for frat boy antics. You doubted that age had changed him that much.

You were shaken from your resentful and self-pitying trance by a knock at the door. You sat up as Barnes voice sounded from the other side. “I’m waiting.”

“Fuck off.” You snarled back as you tossed aside the dress and stood.

You grabbed your jeans from the other end of the bench and began to pull them on. The door opened before you had them past your knees and you were bowled over by a sudden force. Barnes shoved you so that you tripped, tangled in the denim, and caught yourself on the bench.

Before you could stand, his hand was on the small of your back. He held you down. His strength was frightening as he easily pinned you against the bench. You were stuck, prone in only your bra and panties as your jeans bunched at your ankles. You pushed on the edge of the seat and tried to force yourself up but couldn’t get the leverage.

“I told you about that language.” His other hand struck your ass and you cried out in surprise and rage.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You struggled against his grasp.

“What needs to be done.” He growled as he spanked you again. “You insist on being a brat so let me treat you like one.”

“Stop!” You hollered. “What the--”

He slapped your ass again and it stung so much you whimpered. You kicked you, your feet still trapped in your jeans and you reached to the floor.

“Ah! Get off! Get off!” You shouted.

“Watch,” Smack. “Your,” Smack, “Mouth.” Smack.

“I am telling you,” You grunted as you wriggled helplessly. “As your duchess-- to let me go!”

You expected another smack but it never came. His hand left your back and he stood straight. Your nerves fizzled as you slowly pushed yourself up and turned to sit on the bench. Your ass still buzzed from the unceremonious spanking. You folded your arms over your chest as you tried to cover yourself. He had no shame as he looked you up and down.

“That’s what you need, your highness,” He purred. “You need to start acting like a duchess.”

“Get out,” You snarled. “Now.”

His lips curved and his eyes drifted from your face. You squirmed and reached to the dress you’d left on the other end of the bench and pulled it over to cover yourself. You stood and clumsily stepped out of your jeans. You neared him as your humiliation boiled to anger.

“I said get out,” You hissed. “I am a duchess and I’ve given you an order.” You poked his chest, he didn’t flinch. “And I doubt your king would appreciate you leering at his future queen.”

He snickered, quietly. He raised his hands and turned his palms out defensively. He backed away from you and paused at the door. He bowed his head.

“Your highness,” He said. “Let us not repeat this. You can skip that one,” He nodded to the dress. “The rack with the red tag.”

He turned and strode through the door, a subtle click in his stead as you were left to stand hugging the horrible mint green monstrosity. You closed your eyes and waited for your heart to slow from its frantic beating.

You lowered the dress from your front and reached to touch your tender ass. The brush of your fingertips sent a shiver through you. How loyal was Barnes truly? To the king? To himself? You weren’t sure you wanted to find out.

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sending-the-message · 6 years

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In The City Of Meatbot-Powered Killers (part 8) by molotok_c_518

Table of Contents

Part 7

(WARNING: Due to the graphic nature of this series, reader discretion is strongly advised. Contains cannibalism, strong language, violence, and a mention of suicide.)

A bit of dark web wizardry to fill in the gaps...

Video footage from a Reaper drone, designated RB-4, on station over [REDACTED]:

A Chinook twin-rotor cargo helicopter comes in from the south, towing a huge crate underneath, roughly the size of an industrail AC unit. After some fancy piloting, it manages to set down the crate with minimal swinging. The sides drop, revealing a pile of beef sides, enough meat to start a Texas-style barbecue for 1000 guests, give or take.

Immediately, a swarm of little stick figures, like ants at a picnic, converge on the beef. They nearly trample the small know of people at the site that have been eating each other for the past several days.

The frenzy goes on for about a half hour.

Suddenly, the focus of the video shifts upwards, to an incoming A-10. It comes in low and slow, and drops...something... from underneath.

RB-4 tracks the dropped item... a canister? a bomb?... all the way to the pile of beef and bot-ridden.

Just before it would hit, it explodes, throwing fire in every direction. The little bug-people right underneath are incinerated immediately; others take longer.

Like the downtown attack, some of the infested run like hell away from the flames; many, many more run towards them, throwing themselves on the pyre, in defiance of survival instinct.

RB-4: God... damn... that's gonna need some serious brain-bleach to scrub that shit away. Good hit, sir.

A-10 Pilot MAJ {Brown}, call sign "Anvil": Roger, RB-4.Feels fucked-up to be dropping on US civvies.

RB-4: They ain't exactly human anymore, sir. Some Ebola shit or something.

Anvil: So I heard. Do you actually believe the White House on that?

At that moment, a burning man breaks loose and begins running towards a long, two-story building in the background.

RB-4: It may not be Ebola, but... we Chair Force guys have seen some serious shit, sir. One of my buddies just checked out... ate his sidearm.

Anvil: Fuck... condolences.

RB-4: Thank you, s... whoa!

The burning man reaches the building. He slams his fists against a door, and the whole top of the building explodes.

Anvil: Shit! Shit! Shit! We were supposed to be careful not to hit that complex!

RB-4: The explosion was from inside, sir. Glass all blasted outwards.

Anvil: Gas leak? Triggered by the burning idiot?

RB-4: Unknown, sir. I will say it doesn't look like anything you could have anticipated.

Anvil: ...fuck.

RB-4: Hope you brought marshmallows, sir,

We ran.

The double doors opened on a wider tunnel, brightly lit, that ran for 1000 feet, terminating in another set of doors. It was deserted.

Halfway down the tunnel, my email reached the phones. The whole tunnel shook like Richter's best wet dream, and we were thrown to the tunnel floor.

"I... I think I overdid it," I muttered.

We got back to our feet and ran for it again.

{Jane} was a bit faster than me. As a result, she hit the doors a few steps ahead of me, and got ambushed by the four infested on the other side.

She yelled as she was dragged to the floor, but managed to get the machete into the head of the first one as she fought. It jumped back screaming.

I got there a few seconds later, and slammed the axe into the head of another one, throwing it back into a wall. Another swing removed the top of a third one's skull.

This gave {Jane} enough room to slam the last one into the first one, and the two went down in a tangle of limbs and a spray of meatbots from the head wound of the first infested.

The second one had recovered enough to come charging at me. I swung upwards, taking it in the gut with the poll of the axe and putting that spike right into its ribs. Intestines unraveled and spilled on the ground; the last infested jumped on them and began to devour them while the badly wounded one tried to shove him off.

"C'mon!" I said, grabbing {Jane}'s arm and dragging her to her feet, then propelling her to our right, and another tunnel.

The lights had flickered a few times as we fought. Now that we were free, they threatened to go out as we escaped.

Another infested came out of an alcove to our right. {Jane} took it high, lopping its head off with one clean stroke.

"A little further up, we take a left," she panted. "It will take us across campus."

"Are you hurt at all?"

"No. Looks like they couldn't get a grip or bite on me."

"Okay. If you are, let me know... I brought some more anti-bots with me."

She stopped. "Wait... you have more of those things?!? And you're willing to actually use them on us?"

"Well... yeah. I mean, that's how I recovered you in the first place, and kept myself from getting infested when you attacked me."

{Jane} grabbed me by the lapels and slammed me into the wall. "DO NOT PUT THOSE THINGS IN ME," she growled. "If I get ridden again, just burn me."

"Okay, okay," I whispered. "I get it."

I didn't, really. I also didn't mention that she might still have some dormant counter-bots in her system.

See, the actual programming called for a short "maintenance" period, where several classes of 'bot would go into "sleep mode," as it were, awaiting the chemical trigger to awaken (wounds, cancer, etc.). After a while, they would run out of fuel, deactivate entirely, and get flushed.

Sometimes, ignorance is the best policy.

We set off again, taking that left and charging into increasingly more dimly-lit sections of tunnel. We got hit a few more times, but it seemed like they had all gone above-ground and joined the cannibal bonfire.

Then a familiar smell hit me: raw meat, unwashed bodies, spoiled flesh, blood, cake frosting.

"Stop," I said.

{Jane} looked at me funny. "What?"

"There's an orgy of infested ahead."

I could hear it now, too: That squishy, slithering, chewing sound.

"Is there a way out of these tunnels and back to the surface from here?"

"Just around that corner ahead of us. Probably through the orgy."

"Backtrack?"

"We'll be out in the open, visible to any recon drones, for about a half mile."

"Fuck."

"We can take them," {Jane} said confidently. She swung the machete like a pro now.

"No. We try to get around them. A few, we can deal with... more than 20 or 30, and we could end up like them."

{Jane} looked me in the eye: a hard stare, more than a little bit homicidal. "Maybe I should push you in. Serve you right for making them like that."

"I thought we were past this."

"...wait..."

"...what?"

The sounds had stopped.

"Uh-oh."

"Run through them," {Jane} mumbled, swinging the machete.

"Wait..."

"NOW."

And she charged.

"Fuck." I hefted the axe and followed.

Around the corner was a knot of infested, slowly disentangling themselves from each other as they heard {Jane} running around the outskirts of them. She was swinging at limbs that reached out to her, lopping them off, as other hands reached out to grab the newly liberated snacks.

I followed at a bit of a distance (I deemed it unsafe to get that close to an angry woman with a big knife), kicking severed hands into the pile, swinging at any arms that got too close.

One hand reached out and grabbed her pants leg, and she went down hard. I chopped into its wrist, and the hand flew across the tunnel into the wall, tangling in a small nest of cables.

I ran past, grabbing her by the collar and hauling her up. She limped on, and I supported her weight as we passed the feeding frenzy.

"To our right. Up those stairs. I think it's the chem building."

"I thought we were going to the dorms."

"No. Mall."

We slammed through a door. The stairwell beyond was empty and dark, and utterly silent once the echoes of our abrupt entrance faded.

I lugged her up the stairs. She weighed a bit more than she had when I rescued her, but I felt it was wise not to mention that.

"Why are we going back to the mall?"

"Food. Shelter. Real clothes." She gestured at the mish-mash of men's clothes I had scrounged up for her. "Hair dye, so I can go blonde again and hide the grey."

"What grey?"

"Plus, we have a plausible story to tell the Army if they roll through asking survivors how they kept from getting infested: 'We locked ourselves in the mall and stayed put.'"

"You know that most of them will have seen Dawn of the Dead, so they'll know it's reasonable..."

"Right."

"I just came from the mall, though. Locked myself in there after Bobby and his wife got taken in."

"You mean Ricky."

"No, Kentucky Bobby."

"It was Ricky. Bobby was the one that was always in the bathroom."

"Really?"

"Are we going to the mall or not."

"Car."

"There's a lot full of them."

"No keys."

"I can hotwire one. My ex taught me. It's apparently a big thing in Russia to know how to steal a car."

"I've never heard that."

"You have now."

I sighed. "Let's go, then. I duct-taped a latch on the south side. We can get in there. Also, we should snag an electric or hybrid. Quieter. Won't draw as many."

"Let's roll."

She seemed a little better on her feet as we climbed the stairs to the first floor and went out into the bright, late-summer sunshine. I didn't comment on it, figuring she'd put it down to just twisting her ankle.

Outside, the way was clear, right up to the cars in the parking lot. A good half-mile walk.

Right out in plain view of any drones or satellite coverage.

"They'll see us if we go out there," I said.

"They'll be distracted by that," she said, pointing back at a pair of thick columns of black smoke.

"Good point."

RB-4: This is RB-4 to RQZ Six.

RQZ: This is Six, go ahead.

RB-4: Sir, it appears that our target has been heavily compromised. Seems that there was some kind of gas leak at objective 2, and it... well, it exploded. Sir.

RQZ: Can you confirm casualties from up there?

RB-4: Negative, sir.

RQZ: I would hate to have lost our best chance at curing this damned thing.

RB-4: Is it that bad, sir?

RQZ: Officially, it's contained.

RB-4: ...officially, sir?

RQZ: Unofficially, we may have a few isolated cases in an outlying suburb.

911 (dispatcher, just outside [REDACTED]): 911, what's your emergency?

Man: Help, my wife's gone fuckin' bonkers!

911: Where are you?

Man: I'm in my house, at [ADDRESS]. My wife brought home a stray dog, nice animal, collar and everything... it bit her, and she started... well, eating everything (BANG BANG BANG in the background) in the house.

Woman: LET ME IN, JERRY. I JUST WANT TO TALK!

Man: You already stabbed me with a fork, Ethyl, I'm not falling for it.

911: Officers en route, sir, stay on the line.

BANG BANG BANG

Woman: JUST OPEN THE DOOR, JERRY, WE CAN WORK THIS OUT.

Man: You've got rabies or something... I'm just getting you an ambulance.

Woman: I DON'T NEED A FUCKING AMBULANCE! YOU WILL IF YOU DON'T OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!!!

911: Where is the dog now?

Man: She ate it.

911: I... see. Hold for a moment, please.

Man: Wait...

bang bang bang

Woman: Honey, I'm sorry. Just come out and we can have a nice dinner.

CRASH!

Man: Fuck, Ethyl, how did you... AHHHHH!!! THAT FUCKING HURT!!!

The car we managed to snag was a Honda hybrid. Silent as the grave. {Jane} drove.

We went out the north entrance of the campus. Along the way, we saw sporadic knots of infested laying very still, with only a cursory glance at us as we drove by.

"Probably almost starved to death," {Jane} muttered.

"Yeah," I said.

"So you're just... letting the Army kill them all?"

This again.

"Yes. Better that than put the nanobots in the hands of anyone else."

"And you're okay with that?"

"No. I'm not. It hurts that I can't cure them. It would take more than I believe we have to cure them all. Plus, they did... things. We've seen them burn themselves to death rather than run from the fire. It's a good probability that most of these people would prefer to die."

{Jane} navigated to the entrance of [REDACTED] Mall and drove to the back side, where I had taped the door open.

She shut off the car, and stared out the window for a moment.

"I still need to figure you out. I'm not sure I totally trust you."

"Okay..."

"I know these... things... can affect the brain. They made me okay with killing and eating people. How do I know that you didn't program them to make me follow and obey you?"

"I wouldn't... couldn't... do that. How about, I take one end of the mall, you take the other..."

"Okay."

"If we stick together, we can get out of this. It's entirely up to you."

"Okay."

"Go think on it. Get real clothes. Get whatever food you want. I'll be in the electronics store."

An hour later, and I'm hiding in a mall bathroom with a fire axe. Again.

One last step, and we can be free of [REDACTED], out of the quarantine zone, and on our way.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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