Pronounced electrifying It was the 90’s I was trying to be cleaver I’m always looking for a writer to collaborate with I have lots of stories that need finishing and as long as I get a credit you can take over if you want
Summery of fic: Reader/Jess Harper has already survived abuse and sexual assault by stepbrother Nate Millers, but the reward was a prison sentence for murder at Litchfield penitentiary…
What happens when you/Jess come face to face with Nate’s old colleagues and friends, Correctional Officers Steve Rogers and James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, who both seem set on making you pay for your mistakes. Will you be able to survive it all over again?
Pairing (kinda): Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Nate Millers (OMC) x Reader
Words: 3405
Warnings: DARK AU, dubcon/noncon elements, Dark!Bucky, Dark!Steve, implied sexual acts, sexual acts, mention of murder, mentions of death, mentions of violence, mentions of NC/SA and death, mentions of blood
You have been warned.
THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM
Chapter 18
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The officers had gone AWOL. You’d kept an eye out for them all day and you hadn’t seen either of them, and it was closing in on lights out. They had been in the bubble, looking pissed when seeing you, and now they were gone. This couldn’t be good. This really couldn’t be good. You were slightly eased by their absence because, well, they were absent, but it felt like the calm before the storm for some reason. You tried to shake the feeling, and focus on the threats that were present instead, but in the back of your mind, things were growing crazy with questions.
Everyone around was making ready for bed, but you hadn’t moved from your perked position on the bed, unless you had to. You kept a keen eye out for any hunters trying to get to the rabbit, but none had come. There were still looks being shot your way, but the shooting ended at that. You hadn’t even tried for dinner when the time came, pretty sure you weren’t going to get any. Hope was still burning that the involuntary hunger strike would end soon, but you weren’t about to press your luck on the first day back in gen pop.
Gina came walking in from a neighbouring cube, looking uncaring when spotting you.
“You’re back?” she asked, probably out of courtesy more than anything else, and started digging out her toiletries from her locker.
“Yeah,” you said. Kinda obvious, wasn’t it?
“That was short,” she said into her locker, her voice bouncing off the metallic walls.
“Yeah, guess I got lucky.”
She stood up with her things in hand and grabbed her towel hanging from one of the hooks.
“So I’ve heard,” she added, and walked out with a pep in her step, scurrying like only she could.
Wrong thing to say, Jess. Fricking foot-in-mouth disease. You really should choose your words more carefully. You’d only just gotten back from the sunny vacation from down the hill, one piss-smelling traumatic experience richer, and already you’re adding fuel to the fire. Though, you suspected a lot of the inmates had been adding both fuel and gasoline and possibly a whole damn forest of logs to that fire in your absence. It must be burning like a witch’s stake by now. Now all they needed was the witch.
But CO Rogers was back on the dayshift so... there’s that! Now you just had your fellow roommates to worry about stabbing you should you try and sleep. Your body felt heavy with stress, but the exhaustion was eased from getting several good nights, even days, down in the SHU. At least something good had come out of it. You hoped that the treatment officer Rogers had given you when cuffing you after he searched your cube had done something to ease back the rumours of any favours being done in either direction. But people usually only saw what they wanted to see.
Another count, then the lights were dimmed to the lowest setting, covering the whole dorm in a comfortable gloaming light for the night. Everyone quieted down. Silence lay steadily against the cold concrete, only soft snores and mumbles being heard from a corner here and there.
CO Bennett was on duty tonight, checking the dorms and counting sleeping heads. Whenever he passed you, he gave you a concerned look, a corner of his mouth twitching up to show his sympathy for the lack of sleep. He had seen the state of you when Peeve had brought you to the van after the tumble you’d taken down the stairs, even verbally uttering his concern to the fellow officer, who of course shut it down dismissively. By the look he gave you, he seemed to assume those injuries had been dealt by the hands of your fellow inmates, and also assumed it was the most likely reason for your still awake state.
The officer stopped not far from the doorway to your cube, looking around to see if any of the other inmates were listening before he whispered to you.
“Trouble sleeping?” His tone was kept light and inviting, not a string of intimidation in it.
The sound was still loud in the quiet room, quickening your heart rate just enough to feel it thumping in your chest. You looked over at the officer, noticing his insecure smile and bouncing gaze, not sure whether to look straight at you or around. But he made no move towards you, nor did he seem to be angered or upset.
“Yes, sir,” you said in a hushed tone, looking down at the floor by your bed rather than keeping his gaze. It was never a good idea to tempt fate like that.
Bennett nodded to himself, fiddling with his belt to occupy the silence that fell between you.
“Well,” he said lowly. “Hope you get some rest soon.”
The officer walked on with the steady clicking of his counter, before disappearing out into the hallway to check the other dorms. And on like that it went, like a merry-go-round; he came in, counted, looked at you with the tug of an apologetic smile, and walked out. He didn’t speak to you again, and you had never moved an inch from where you were sat when he came around the next time. It was like an endless loop of uncertain tension where neither of you knew what to make of the other, so instead just opted for uncomfortable silence. It was going to be a long night.
And it was a long night. Every hour passed by so slowly it was a miracle the clocks didn’t stop altogether. But when morning came and CO Bennett was replaced by CO Donaldson, another thorough, but more closed-off officer, time started ticking by. Inmates started stirring in their bunks, some hurrying off to the bathroom before it was occupied by everyone else.
You had already been, just after 5 am when inmates were allowed to leave their dorms. You had even dared a shower, surprise, surprise. Even though you had made quick work of it, you had made sure to wash your private parts extremely thoroughly, the ghosting trace of CO Peeve’s fingers still haunting your flesh. You wanted to be rid of every memory of his touches. Usually you let at least a day pass between showering, not wanting to see or feel the state of your body, but after an invasion like that, you’d rather live under a steady stream of boiling water and soap than pass up an opportunity to get clean.
Before the food line got too long, you thought you’d try your luck for something to eat. You kept a close eye out for both officer Peeve and Fucky, but they were still AWOL. Did they have the day off perhaps? The hairs at the back of your neck stood at attention, foreboding something else besides a ‘yes’ to that question. But you forced yourself to focus on the now, and the problems at hand. Like eating for example. Cross that bridge when you get to it.
When you got to the cafeteria Gina was there. She was standing behind the glass, serving, still not noticing you. Most of Red’s family were there, some worked in the kitchen along with her, but the others were sat at a table talking. Even Nicky had made an early appearance. You felt a pinch of sadness in your chest at the sight of her, laughing and joking with her friends. Her family. And you weren’t there. You wanted to, you really did, but you also didn’t want to get her, or anyone else, in trouble should the officers find out. That was a risk you were not willing to take. Collateral damage Nate had called it. Collateral damage to get what you want. Not if you could help it.
You walked up to the counter, a few inmates ahead of you and behind you, all waiting patiently for their turn. Gina raised her gaze, only to find you standing in front of her, with an apologetic and hopeful look painted across your face. She looked back down, scooping some extra eggs onto the tray, and held it out for you to take. She still didn’t look at you, just waiting for you to take it and walk away. You gratefully took it, smiling dearly at her when you did, despite the slight twitch of pain to the cut on your cheek.
“Thank you,” you said to her, but made sure Red heard you as well from where she stood overlooking the exchange.
She didn’t look mad, or upset in anyway, but she also didn’t look all buddy-buddy. She was a tough woman to read, but you remembered Nicky saying you weren’t on bad terms with anyone in the family. You just hoped it had stayed that way even after those pesky rumours started going around.
You ate your breakfast in peace and quiet at your own table. No one sat down with you, which you were kind of grateful for anyway. It didn’t ease the awareness of everyone’s whereabouts, or the feeling of having everyone’s eyes on you (with not so kind looks), but it did give you the space you needed. If someone got too close, goose bumps rose like an armour on your skin. You were on constant alert, which was tiresome as hell. And you severally doubted that the day would bring anything else but more hyperawareness and aching muscles, and a very sore butt from sitting like a perched hawk on that thin matrass. You could only hope the clocks kept on ticking.
O.o.O.o.O
The tv was loud in their shared living room, a rerun of the past Friday’s football game on. Bucky sat reclined on the couch with nothing but a pair of sweatpants on, the hem darkened by the few droplets of water remaining after his shower, and resting a bare foot up against the coffee table before him. In his hand he held a cold light beer, trying to calm his nerves. Usually he never drank before work, light beer or no light beer, but today he really needed it.
Steve came walking in to the living room from the bathroom down the hall, freshly showered and with a towel around his waist, glistening droplets of water traveling down his toned chest and abdomen. Both had been to the gym earlier in the day, like always, despite neither having gotten that much sleep, but they really needed to keep busy. Unruly nerves tingled in them both, and nothing kept their minds as busy as a good session in the gym.
Steve walked up to one of the armchairs beside the table, effectively knocking Bucky’s leg down on purpose when he walked straight through. Bucky gave him an annoyed look, and put his foot back up on the table with a bit more force than needed.
“I’m sitting here!”
“So I see,” Steve said and sat down with a loud sigh, taking a swig from his own bottle that Bucky had so kindly placed on the table for him, which he was kind of starting to regret.
Bucky rolled his eyes and tangled a hand into his still drying hair, letting it get stuck in the strands comfortably. He watched the screen, but paid no attention to the game being played, his mind elsewhere, lost deep in thought. Pleasant, happy thoughts.
Steve wasn’t any better. Despite the few hours of actual sleep, harsh workout and almost half-hour long shower, he still couldn’t get his mind to focus on anything other than his favourite inmate and impending night. His mind was reeling with emotion and thought, scenarios and fantasies blending together in a mishmash of reality.
They had talked it over so many times that it was slowly waring them both down if they didn’t get to it soon. Fantasies were no longer enough for either of them. Their patience was wearing thin, the wants and must-haves becoming almost too much to bear. Butterflies raced like fighter jets in their bellies, adrenaline was ready to be expelled into their bloodstream. They were nervous, excited. And, oh, so ready.
“Did you jerk off?” Bucky asked out of the blue.
“Bucky!”
Steve wiped his mouth clean of the beer that had barely made it into his mouth, looking horrified and embarrassed by the question. Bucky was never one to shy away, he’d give him that. Always straight to the point.
Bucky snickered into his bottle, and took a sip.
“What? It’s a fair question,” he defended, noticing the rising blush of Steve’s cheeks. “So, did ya?”
Steve gave him a look that would make anyone back the hell up if it was fired their way, but then it morphed into an even worse blush than the one prior, and he hid his face behind the bottle.
“That’s a yes,” Bucky said triumphantly and chuckled.
“You’re an asshole, you know that, right?”
Bucky just nodded with a wide grin on his face.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “There’s no shame in it, Stevie. We all do it.”
Steve looked up at his friend, searching his face.
“You did it, too,” he stated, not surprised when Bucky gave a short nod in affirmative.
“Sure did. Had to let off some steam. It was either that, or go another round on the punching bag, and I’m not sure my knuckles could take it.”
He looked down at his hands, noting the still red skin covering the area around his knuckles where he had hit the bag, no wrap to protect his hands. Which Steve had been quick to comment on, even in the gym.
“That’s cause you don’t wrap your hands,” he said, yet again. “If you wrap your hands, you protect your hands. It’s simple.”
“Yeah, but there wasn’t time for that,” Bucky said nonchalantly. “I saw the bag, and I just had to hit it. You know how it is when you get an idea into your head, and that idea has a face, and you would much rather punch that face, but that face is still behind bars at work where you are not, but the bag is right in front of you, and then there’s no time to wrap your hands.”
Steve just smiled and nodded during Bucky’s whole rambling session, which ended with a loud grunting sigh when he leaned his head back.
“Fuuuuck,” Bucky groaned and pinched his eyes. “What time is it, anyway?”
Time was moving so slow, too slow, for either men’s liking. They wanted to get to work, and the lack of sleep kept them both slightly agitated when time seemed to fuck with them on purpose. What made it all even worse was the fact that they had the late nightshift, which continued on into the morning, and didn’t start until six.
“It’s 4,30,” Steve said when looking at the small clock sitting on the bookshelf beside his chair. “Or, 4,33 to be exact.”
An hour to go before they could leave for work without being suspiciously eager. Hell, they worked at a prison, no one was eager to voluntarily lock themselves behind bars. And even when they got to work it would be hours before anything good were to happen, so in reality, they were more comfortable right where they were. At home. Where time didn’t go by.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Bucky said and leaned forward on his knees, his abs contracting at the slow movement, the burn of his muscles still prominent after the workout. “How ‘bout a pitstop at Wendy’s on the way? Then we get to leave here, feel like we’re doin' somethin' and maybe get time to move its fucking ass, and we get to enjoy some delicious food.”
Bucky felt like a kid where he sat all tense and excited. Or like he was back in Iraq. Like he was back in the war, ready to face the enemy head on and blow shit up. Yeah, that’s what he felt like. He looked over at Steve, who too looked like he used to when back in the desert lands. He was on high alert, eager and ready but still controlled. It was a thrilling feeling, and they didn’t even need to risk their own lives in the process.
“Sounds like a plan,” Steve said, and chugged back the last of his beer, as did Bucky.
Both got dressed in an eager haste, with fingers fumbling with belt buckles and buttons as they tried not to rush. It was hard though. Both knew what awaited them tonight, what new things they would get to experience, to dish out. They had mixed emotions about the whole ordeal, like a horror filled excitement pumping through their veins. Like when you take your driver’s test; one part is rambling on about everything that could go wrong, weighing the risk with the reward, while the other is too keen on the freedom and excitement to come that it’s blocks out any negativity and heighten the nerves, blending with the anxiety. Like war. Something they were both very familiar with.
Bucky stood by the door, flipping the car keys round and round in his hand as he patiently waited for Steve to get ready. His uniform was freshly washed, his shoes had undergone a scrub down and his black leather jacket was brand new. Overall, it was a good day. And it was about to be a very good night.
Steve came through the doorway from the living room, fixing the cuffs on his uniform before grabbing his favourite brown leather jacket from one of the hooks.
“You ready?” Bucky asked with assertion, and stopped jingling the keys.
Steve drew a deep breath, only to let it out with a loud huff. He fixed the collar of his jacket, setting it in place and collected himself like the assertive correctional officer that he was. Like they both were.
“Yes,” he said with a nod. “Let’s go.”
For once, Bucky drove. It was his idea to go to Wendy’s, and a damn good idea it was, so he drove. He drove to keep his hands busy, he drove to keep his attention on something besides you, and he drove slower than usual to get time to pass. It all worked. They were kept busy, time passed and they got to enjoy some good food.
Barbara at the diner, a middle-aged, brown-haired woman with freckles on her nose and crow’s-feet around her eyes, and who had taken quite the liking to the two handsome officers, treated them both to some of her freshly baked lemon meringue pie, free of charge. The young men were always so polite whenever they came in for a meal, or just for a coffee, and their bright smiles and handsome, rugged looks didn’t hurt the eye. They deserved some pie.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Bucky said when he rose from his seat and picked up a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and put it on the counter. “But we really have to get going now.”
Barbara held up a hand and shushed him.
“You don’t need to do that, young man,” she said in her southern drawl and slid the money back towards him on the counter. “It’s on the house.”
Steve gave a soft chuckle as he too got up from his seat at the bar counter.
“Really, Barbara,” he said and gave her one of his kind smiles, the kind that would make a woman go weak at the knees. “We do. You are too kind, and if you keep this up, you’re gonna have to roll us both out of here.”
“Oh,” she said through a laugh, as a blush worked its way up her cheeks. “I don’t see that happening anytime soon, officer. Now you just take your coffee to go, and I’ll see ya both some other time. Don’t mind about the check. I got you covered, sugar.”
Both Bucky and Steve felt some heat rise at the kindness shown and said, politely bidding their goodbyes. And when Barbara turned her back for just a short second, Bucky made sure to slide the money back to her across the counter, before they both walked out and headed towards new, unfamiliar territory. These nightshifts just keep getting better and better.
Hopefully you don't miss out if you can't wait ao3 this is so well written I still sometimes get made at the boys when I watch the winter soldier 🤦🏿♀️
Happy to be attending Desrt Scape Film Festival in St. George, Utah for a special “Fathers & Sons” screening night THIS FRIDAY showing 2 world premiere films I’m proud to be in…. Starting with the short film “PRETTY BOYS” followed by the feature film “THE STRAWBERRY”.
Tickets & Info: https://www.fmasu.com/desertscape .
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Summary: a certain someone’s a huge fan of yours and he has a special request…
Relationship: Bucky Barnes x black!fem!sex worker
Warnings: pay for sex, sex worker/onlyfans creator, graphic language, smut, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, 18+
A/N: yeah I know…hiatus…but I have a problem apparently. This is for the girls’ sex worker challenge, Aphrodite’s Manor, and I couldn’t fuckin resist. This is one of two entries. I don’t know much about having an onlyfans but this is fiction so fuck it. Hope this is good lol on with it….
It was such a long boring Saturday. Hot and lazy, you lay across your bed in your panties, mindlessly scrolling through your OnlyFans page because what else is there to do. You already shot and posted your content for the week, and you had no real plans for the day. So might as well click through…obscene messages and comments, laughing and rolling your eyes at the thirst. But one message really catches your attention. Propping yourself up on an elbow, squinting at the screen, you read the words utterly floored.
From: xBJBx
Baby girl—
You are everything and more. Every night I dream about your smile, your laugh…that cuban link chain around your ankle. You’re so beautiful and fuck, don’t I want you baby I have to ask…
Do you need a man? To touch you? To fuck you? I can be that man for you baby girl…please let me be him. I’ll do anything…give you anything…but please just…think about it…
It’s earnest but confident. You don’t recognize his username. Was he a new fan? You’d been climbing up in numbers for a while now but no one’s ever messaged you about this before. You bite down on your twisted bottom lip, contemplating the first question on your mind: What if he isn’t cute. Or…what if he has a small dick. You don’t have time to waste on bullshit like that. Anything…that really peaked your interest. Sitting Indian style on the comforter you drop your spry fingers to the keys to reply but stop. Were you really about to let a guy pay you to fuck you for content? It’d be a definite first…and you knew some content creators do…and you haven’t been fucked in a good minute…Smacking your lips, you sigh and buck your eyes, settling back on the initial question. What if he isn’t cute.
From: *MSTRSS*
Why hello…
Hmmm…so confident for someone like you, a total stranger, to you even ask me a question like that without even dropping any sort of picture…like I’d fuck someone I’ve never seen before.
I’m thinking…but I need some reassurance lil pup…
You hum a laugh at “lil pup,” since you’ve never given one of your viewers a nickname before, let alone go out your way to reply to one of their messages. But you don’t know…for some reason, this guy has you on the edge of your seat. You can’t place it. Chanting to yourself, “please be fine, please be fine, please be fine,” a message notification goes off and you snatch your laptop up into your lap with a devious smirk. Lil pup was prompt. He’s serious.
From: xBJBx
Oh fuck…I must be lucky…I know you don’t answer anyone’s messages…wow okay…
How’s this for reassurance baby girl…
Abs. That’s all you focus on at first. Just like…ripples of firm, tense muscle under taught red skin. Fuck he’s RIPPED. Jaw dropped, you guffaw at the screen with an astounded smile. He’s more than cute…His veiny arm just out of frame gives the inclination that he’s holding his dick but he’s cropped the image right at his pelvis. Lil pup is a tease that’s hot. Okay, alright, you nod, impressed with what you see and just as you’re about to reply with kudos…your phone chimes over on your nightstand. A Cashapp notification for…
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
No fuckin way…you look at the amount that hits your account with stunned bulging eyes. Fifteen hundred dollars?! Tossing your phone down on the bed, your trembling fingers go back to your keyboard.
Lil pup…
…are you sure?
No fuckin way this man wants you one-thousand, five hundred dollars bad. Now you panic, wondering if this dickhead is a catfish or just fuckin with you. You don’t like bullshit…and no one should ever have the audacity to play you. He can keep all of that. But looking back at that picture, of that brawny, chiseled body, you hope to Fates this man is really real. Because you really want to feel that weight on top of you a complete mess. Message notification dings again.
So fuckin sure baby girl…trust me…
…is this you saying yes?
Please say yes…
With an annoyed huff and so done laugh, you almost flip your laptop off your bed. Wow. Your stomach summersaults The image of him open mouth and tongue hanging long, dripping with drool down his big chest fills your eyes. He knows what he’s doing…knows how to really get your attention. He can’t be that new then if he knows what you like. That’s how he got you. That and the absurd amount of money he just dropped into your account. Fixing your laptop back on your folded legs, you smile wickedly at the screen as you type out your rules and stipulations, planning to meet him at an Air B&B instead of your place on the next day you’re shooting content to protect your privacy. Of course he offered to pay for that too, and you refused, but that didn’t stop him from sending you money anyway. Another five hundred was added to your account while you slept. Rubbing your eyes you sniff a laugh at your screen. Lil pup’s a big spender. Ridiculous what men do for some pussy.
The day has come and somehow you don’t feel a bit nervous. You packed up your gear, some of your best lingerie, a bottle of bourbon and head over to the quirky rental for the night. You’re doing this. You’re doing this. And it blew your mind. As you set up, trying not to anxiously look at the time, you play all sorts of different scenarios over and over. How you want to greet him, or touch him. Will it be awkward or stupid hot. How will he smell. Will he even feel good inside you. You try to drown your thoughts out with music, something to get you in the mood as you change into the set you felt appropriate for this man. Something black and see through since something felt so primal about him when you looked at those pictures. As you buckle the last strap around your supple thigh, there’s a solid knock on the front door. Lifting your chin, you take a deep breath and say to yourself, you’re doing this. As you stand up straight, you gently close your eyes, and let your hands run over your curves. Fuck. You feel good, and you know you look good as fuck and you can’t help but grin. You’re doing this.
You work on steadying your baited breaths as you strut on your tip toes toward the door. And it’s like you can already feel his magnetism pull you, already burning up for him. Your fingers wrap around the handle as you take a dry swallow…then turn the knob and slowly draw the front door open to see…
“What…the…fuck…”
No fuckin way…this…this can’t be fuckin real…nah. A nervous giggle sputters from your lips. From his scuffed up leather boots, you take him in—hardly breathing—witnessing him in all his super soldier glory. Metal hand free and shining in the sunlight but a red Buffalo plaid shirt cover his swole arms. Big chest heaving and flushed protrudes from beneath his white muscle shirt. Scruffy and intimidating. Long haired and tender. You guys can’t take your surprised eyes off each other.
“Pfffftt noooo…” you chuckle again, settling on those menacing steel blue eyes, “no fuckin way…you’re…” but you can’t fix your mouth to say shit as he starts to grin at you flabbergasted. “Do…do you know who the fuck you are?!”
Bucky nods, so glad to see you so surprised. “And you’re my mistress…” He announces with an erotic purr, cocking his head to the side with a big sigh, checkin out the outfit you’re wearing just for him. Delighted to see your gold anklet resting around your precious brown skin. He sighs again, louder this time, and licks his lips. God Bucky can’t wait to get his hands on you. “Aren’t you going to let your lil pup inside baby girl?”
You snort a silly chuckle. Lil pup seems so unfair just look at the size of him. What are you going to do with all of that?! Coming to, you shoot him a nervous smile and step to the side with the door, allowing him in and he smells just as sinful as he looks, tucking his hair back behind his ear as he checks with place out.
“If—if I would have known it was you Bucky, sir, uh..I—,” you stumble over your words as you shut the door behind you. Bucky turns with a lopsided smirk and an amused frown. Sir?
“I can’t lie…a part of me thought you did when you asked for a picture.” His happy eyes fall back down your bra and panties as he raises his brows. “Never seen this look on the site. Did you wear this especially for me baby girl?”
His cool eyes dart back up to meet yours still stunned and he dangerously smiles. A hard chill scatters up your spine.
“Would you like a drink?” The question comes out louder than you intend as you scurry to the kitchen for the bottle. You definitely need the burn to bring you back to earth. What the actual fuck is the goddamn Winter Soldier doing looking at your fuckin OnlyFans?!
Bucky chuckles at you being all skiddish. “Sure.” It’s opposite of what he’s seen on your site but it’s sweet. This is going better than he expected. He knows once the sheer shock of it all wears off, you’ll be that confident little minx he loves to get off to.
You can’t pour the drink fast enough, sliding a glass to him standing there checkin you out with a little smirk. You take your drink down in one big swallow, and it feels so good going down you blow a loud huff of breath through puckered lips. Bucky follows suit, still smirking into his glass. He can see you peeping at him from the corners of your narrowed eyes, like you’re still wondering if you’re seeing things. Then he notices your fix resting on his metals fingers resting on the counter.
“Do you wanna touch?” His cool fingertips drum. “See if I’m the real deal?” He huffs another laugh scooting his hand towards you hesitant on your reach. “Go on baby girl…” His words are so soft and sweet you drop your hand, your heart going ballistic as you wrap your fingers around the smooth vibranium. Letting go of a pant the same time Bucky tries to suppress a moan, you feel nerves settle and a rush of warmth sweep you from head to toe.
“You can feel me?”
Fingers shift and lock between one another. Bucky resists shutting his lids for he always wanted to see your hand in his. It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever seen. Your rings and long black nails intertwined with his bionic fingers.
“Of course,” he sighs squeezing your hand, “and it’s like a dream come true baby girl…”
That bourbon’s finally got you feelin like your normal self again but so does the fascination of him being right here, holding your hand, searching for air like you’re taking all his oxygen just by your touch. The contrast of the cold metal against your clammy palm feels so good. Taking his hand off the counter, you draw a breathless Bucky near and place his mechanical hand on the crest of your ass poking out from your panties. A shaky sigh falls from his lips down the bridge of your nose.
“What about this?” You whisper, resting a nervous hand in the center of his swollen pecs just to feel his erratic lungs. Bucky watches you press yourself into his heat, your breast plump as they push into his hard body. “Can you feel this lil pup?”
The corners of your lips twitch with his as he slowly nods and swallows hard. “Mm yes, yes baby…” His metal fingers grip a nice chunk of your prickly skin. “You feel better than I ever imagined mistress…”
You sigh a light laugh, wrapping your arms up around his neck, his soft hair falling over your folded forearms. “You don’t have to call me that Bucky. You can call me baby girl. I really like that.” Your lips whisper and tease his as they fall open for a kiss but you deny him with a big smile. “No one’s ever called my baby girl before so…it’s all yours pup.”
He’s so happy to hear it, he strongly slaps your ass with a genial growl, reaching for your mouth that continues to tease him with little licks and weightless brushes. “You wanna be all mine?”
His possessive tenor thrills you when you hear the way he says all mine but what has he done to earn his keep? You giggle again while kissing the tip of his nose and releasing your hold on him.
“Let’s see what you can do first…” you nod for the bedroom with a sly grin, adoring the way he can’t keep his hooded gaze off your body, “and I’ll think about it.”
Lights, camera, fuckin action with the Winter Soldier playing around amongst your dripping wet pussy in front of your laptop. You had two other cameras set up further away for some wide angle shots, mostly for yourself. On your laptop though, you kept the frame tight, only capturing all the action from the neck down. Bucky purposely keeps his signature identifier out of view. Propped up against his heaving chest, you cry out obscenities as he rumbles sinful affirmations in your ear, spreading your folds back for the camera to see how absolutely drenched he makes you.
“Thank you baby girl. Thank you so much.” You fist the covers hearing every bit of gratitude off his hushed words. “Fuck, you make me feel so good baby…just…thank you…”
No matter how vigorously or delicately he fucked with you with his fleshy knuckles, Bucky refuses to let you cum. He just loves to see your hole contract and ooze, loves to hear how loud he can make you shout. Besides, he has plenty of time to make you cum over and over again. You know your viewers are going to get kick out of this once you post it later. You and Bucky look and sound so fuckin hot together. Between his gravelly voice and the way your body tremors, this is bound to get your viewers salivating. Each time he slowly took his hand away, you’d whine pitifully, begging, but that’s what he liked to hear.
“Oh pup,” you whimper, turning to snuggle up under Bucky’s jaw, “lil pup…I want you to fuck me…”
He hums a laughs around fingers stuffed between his lips. Nuzzling you back, he grinds his stiff dick against your back, antsy to get all up in your guts but now that he’s here, he’s starting to think maybe he wanted that moment to be private. Just so he could fuck his baby girl as recklessly he wants.
“Don’t worry baby, I’m going to fuck you dumb but maybe…” He removes his wet fingers from his curly lips to stop the recording. “Maybe with the cameras off…” Suddenly, his cool hand is soothing up your body. Spine arching, you hiss from how icy cold his touch is as it makes its journey up your sternum to the curve of your neck. “Just want it to be you and me baby girl…it’s all I’ve ever fantasized…”
Your face feels so hot. “Yeah pup?” You ask into his scruff. His wrinkled index fingers taps your swollen clit and you flinch with a small gasp. Bucky just smiles and huffs lovingly,
“Yeah,” his steel blue eyes watch your pussy react to his touch, “pounding this perfect little body while you scream, trying to crawl away from me…” you croak a sob; Bucky teases your clit with tiny circles, “but you can’t run from me baby girl…” his words are so hushed as he taunts your sopping wet pussy, “I finally got my hands on the ultimate prize…you…”
Bucky slams your laptop shut then throws you stunned down onto the bed, on top of you in mere seconds as you try to regain focus on his handsome face. You’re completely disoriented from all the edging and how fast he got you on your back.
You shrill, “Bucky!” as he practically tears your bra in half to unleash your pillowy soft tits, flouncing once they’re set free. Gathering them with both icy hot hands, Bucky mauls at your firm nipples a snarl, licking and biting as you howl in pleasure. “Jeeeesus…” you shake and moan, practically dissolving under his ravenous mouth. His stubble feels too good rubbing into your goosebumped skin.
“Oh god baby girl,” His voice suddenly so needy, Bucky fully buries his hot face into your breasts, inhaling sharp as he confesses with a cry, “I’m so fuckin horny for you it hurts.”
Your eyes roll back as you squirm beneath his colossal weight; his fragility combined with his rough touch really makes you tingle all over, especially your throbbing folds aching for his cock that twitches nearby against your thigh. He pinches and twirls your nipples between his fingers, kissing up your neck with hungry pants of breath. Even his little moans and grunts tell the tale of his desire for you and only you.
“My poor lil pup…” your hands run all over his back dimples with muscles you’d never felt on another man before and that drives you crazier, moaning out, “let me ease your pain…”
Bucky takes your mouth with a sinful groan, sinking his tongue down your throat. You wrap your arms securely around his back to hold him even closer. The kiss feels like it’s been in the making, so raw and real that you two really fall into the feeling. Tasting and humming behind buzzing swollen lips, heads turn and tilt. Hips rock and grind. Desperate fists against each other’s scalp. It’s so goddamn hot. And he’s so thick, just like the rest of him, and you thank the Fates each time he gradually ruts his fiery girth right along your slit.
“Fuck, please ease my pain…” His breathless words are muffled into your conjoined lips, “take it from me I need that pussy baby please, please…” Bucky shakes his head, nose and lips smashed as he brutally grinds his pelvis into yours. His scruff burns your chin and cheeks the best way. A dirty moan sounds between you two going for another sloppy open mouth kiss. A hand claws at the waistband of his boxer briefs, dragging them down his hips the best you can until comes and helps pull them off and his heavy dick slaps right down on your swollen clit. You both softly hiss and curse into each other’s painfully locked lips as Bucky uses a hand to position his leaky head at your inviting entrance.
“Oooooh fuuuuuuck,” you croak sinking your teeth into his plush bottom lip, arching up into his solid torso as he shoves his way through your clenched textured walls. It doesn’t burn but the stretch feels just so fuckin right. “Buckyyyy fuuuuuck.”
It seems never ending, him taking his time to inch over every ripple of your insides until he bottoms out with a relieved awe, smiling so big as you flutter and adjust around him so fuckin full in the small of your stomach.
Bucky gulps, “shit…oh shit…” pressing his ice cold hand on your abdomen just to make sure you can feel him deep inside you. “Shit you’re so…”
But he doesn’t finish his thought, just shudders a lusty moan as he slowly withdraws, leaving just the head in for a second, then snaps his hips, shoving it all back inside with a groan. You haven’t caught a breath since he split you wide open.
“Oooh my god yes puppy!” You have to shout because holy shit doesn’t he feel so fuckin good in your guts. And just when you thought his perpetually slow torment is over, the second stroke is just as slow then powerful. Your nails scratch up his back.
“Are you okay baby girl?” A simple check in but it makes your pussy cream anyway. “Is it too much?”
You frantically shake your head, groaning even longer, louder, as he strokes you again. “No—FUCK!” His animalistic thrusts are potent and spine tingling. Bucky bites back a moan as you scratch his scalp, hair so silky soft locked between your knuckles, “No lil pup keep going…”
Bucky fucked you for what seemed like hours, bouncing you off his meaty thighs, laughing at your dumbfounded face. Only the whites of your eyes show, panting out his name whenever he slammed you full. This was more than you expected…from the moment he stood at the door with that little devious smirk until right now, him begging you to, “Cum all over my cock mistress…” for the fourth? Fifth? Time this late summer afternoon. “Tell me you’re all mine…”
He was right there was nowhere to run; he kept a crippling hold on your hip bones, using them as leverage to keep you steady. Skin slapping skin like a fuckin round of applause Jesus Christ this man…
“Yours…” he can barely hear you speak, completely fucked out of your mind, hanging on by a thread, “all yours…lil pup…”
How he hasn’t busted his load you have no idea because you’ve never been this wet, or cum so much, but he holds out mesmerized with how sticky and creamy his dick and balls are. You feel so good to him he could fuck you just like this until the wee hours of the morning. Bucky had a strong feeling if got between your sweet smooth brown sugar thighs that he’d become addicted. And addicted he is. His smile is sick and curly, staring down at the mess between you two.
“Must say I am…I don’t think I’ve ever seen your toys this coated with your cum baby girl…” Bucky spreads your knees further apart to really roll his hips digging you out. Quietly keening you grab your tits and bury your shoulders into the mattress as he hits your spot from a whole new angle. He hums a cute laugh as your walls suction down all around his veiny shaft that finally starts to twitch with urgency. “Again…” Bucky hums like he can taste it on his saturated tongue. Locking his elbows down on your thighs to keep your knees bent, he snatches you closer by your waist and swiftly rolls his ass, spitting down on your fat clit with a crooked grin. “I’m gonna cum with you baby girl…is that okay?”
Whatever he wants... “Uh huh!”
And once you granted him permission, Bucky let’s go with a monstrous groan that fills the bedroom which triggers your climax. Ass off the bed you careen your head back into the pillows with a tiny scream, enjoying sensation of his hot cum coating your pulsating walls.
“Oooooh…oh Bucky…” you slap a hand down on his metal arm as your body convulses, it seems you can’t stop. Voice strained in your tight throat, you see little specs of light fill your vision. “Puppyyyy…fuuuuck…”
Just when you feel like you’re about to pass out, he gently places a flat hand in the center of your chest, delicately coaching you to, “breathe baby girl, breathe…” pressing you gasping for air back down to the bed. “Just breathe…it’s okay…”
You think you feel him go, you don’t know you’re barely here, trying to take his advice but you are so numb you can’t tell if you’re actually breathing or not. Maybe you’re dying, you’ve never gone that hard before and you’re depleted. You start to silently say your goodbyes to no one, drifting off but a cool wet sensation against your worn out folds brings you crashing back to reality. Back to Bucky cleaning you with a damp towel as he kisses your feeble legs spread apart on the bed. Chuckling to to yourself you look down to see his stunning light blue eyes staring back up at you. A pleased grin pressed into your spasming thighs. Fuck talk about after care. Once your pussy’s all cleaned up, Bucky pulls you into a loving embrace and holds you as you guys’ nerves settle, whispering ever so softly,
“I’m your lil pup now. You own me just as much as I own you baby girl…your lil pup…”
But there’s no fuckin way…
Yawning and scratching your arm, you scroll through your page, proudly smiling at your current status all because of that clip you uploaded weeks ago. Reading comments and messages, you lay in a familiar plaid shirt and boy shorts, laughing and shaking your head. The thirst never gets old but the reactions to the video of you and Bucky have you living. So do all the new subscribers and their money. You didn’t expect the influx in viewers but some couldn’t help but speculate who the secret man was. Never have you ever featured a fan. They were frenzied and it was comical. A whole new wave of messages pouring into your inbox, men and women dying to get the same treatment but too bad it was a one time thing. The mattress moves and creeks behind you as he cuddles closely behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder to read your screen.
“Morning…” Bucky pecks your cheek as you sigh a sweet laugh. “How many today baby girl?”
Glancing back at your laptop, you shrug, “too many to count,” then turn your head to kiss his in return. “Maybe I should tell them I’m already occupied.” You suggest, tucking his hair back behind his ear as he turns to give you his full attention with an infatuated grin.
“Keep them lying in wait…” mumbles Bucky just before he plunges in for a sensual kiss, “that’s what they pay you for anyway…”
Don't ever let anyone tell you disability rep doesn't matter, because I just got a comment on one of my fics from a person whose husband has struggled with driving for fifteen years because he can only use his left foot to drive, and they had no idea left foot gas pedal modifiers are a thing until they read my fic that involved a character getting their leg amputated.
It was a tiny scene at the end of the fic, one I put in because I'd been researching left-foot driving adaptions for myself at the time due to some leg issues of my own. But it was something the commenter and their husband had never heard of before, so now the commenter is going to get him one as a surprise and for the first time in his life this guy is going to be able to drive comfortably.
It matters. Not just the big pieces of representation, but the little ones too.
(And yes, if you have issues with your right leg, it is easy and relatively inexpensive to modify your vehicle for left foot driving! You just need to be willing to drill into the floor of your vehicle, or have a mechanic do it. No electronic modifications or anything, it's purely mechanical. Just make sure you're getting a system from a good manufacturer that has done safety testing.)
Thank you for writing this I had trouble with my right leg and drive for work and their are days I can't work because of it I'm going to be looking into this now
yall i’m watching one tree hill season 1 for the first time (i’ve seen the show before, but only from season 3 onwards don’t ask me why)
anyways i’m on episode 6 where lucas and nathan are having an argument on the basketball court during a game and then nathan fully lobs the ball at lucas head 😭😭😭 help why is it giving wicked games DOWN TO THE TEE 😭😭
Summery of fic: Reader/Jess Harper has already survived abuse and sexual assault by stepbrother Nate Millers, but the reward was a prison sentence for murder at Litchfield penitentiary…
What happens when you/Jess come face to face with Nate’s old colleagues and friends, Correctional Officers Steve Rogers and James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, who both seem set on making you pay for your mistakes. Will you be able to survive it all over again?
Pairing (kinda): Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Nate Millers (OMC) x Reader
Words: 5973
Warnings: DARK AU, dubcon/noncon elements, Dark!Bucky, Dark!Steve, implied sexual acts, sexual acts, mention of murder, mentions of death, mentions of violence, mentions of NC/SA and death, mentions of blood
You have been warned.
Chapter 16
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Pieces were falling. The mirror was breaking. The glass was shattering. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t feel anything but his touch burning, seething on your skin, leaving invisible marks all over. You felt his fingers between your legs, the coarseness of his fingertips grazing your folds even through your underwear. He was still there. You could still feel him.
You fell to your knees with a crash of bones against the concrete, your body folding over with a sob. Hands gripped furtively at the ground for some kind of purchase, anything, just anything to save you from falling further into the tomb of pain and fear opening up beneath you. Tears wet the floor. Each drop landed with a loud crash as it splattered over the concrete, vibrating through the floor and into your fingers. Like tiny meteoroids quaking the earth. You could feel everything. It was all over. It consumed you.
The loudest scream you’d ever thought was possible, sounded through your cell, ricocheting off the walls, echoing down the hall and away. Away from you. You screamed through the white static buzzing in your head. You screamed until there was nothing left inside.
You slammed your fists down on the floor, over and over and over, feeling the skin break and blood staining the grey and spreading with the tears. Pain erupted through your hands whenever they met the ground, breaking the skin more and more, but you kept slamming, kept slapping the cement, to feel anything but him. Even nothing was better than the lingering stains of his touch, the echo of his words. You wanted to be so empty of emotion and thought that there was nothing left inside of you they could take away. But you could never make yourself so small, so insignificant, there wasn’t a piece left for them to take. There was always something left they could carve away at.
Flashes of pain, memories of fear rippling through your mind like a slideshow of terror. Slide after slide of hurt and violation just going around in a circle. How it felt the first time Nate forced himself inside of you, breaking you, consuming you. How he had stretched your walls beyond capacity, drawing blood and tearing as he moved. How his fingers had left bruises on your body from their unforgiving grip when holding you down, as you thrashed and tried to get away, trying to get him to stop. And how he had groaned in pleasure, grunted his release inside your body, marking you in the most horrible of ways. Your pain was his pleasure. The sounds he had made were ringing in your ears like bells on a tower.
How you had managed to survive it was beyond you, but you doubted you could ever survive it again, even though you’d lived through it for years and years. Years of pain and torment, cuts and bruises and the never-ending blame of it all being your fault. That you deserved it. That you needed it. That you wanted it.
You had wanted him. Once. A very long time ago you had wanted him. You were young, and he was exciting and sweet. He cared for you like a good brother, like he was supposed to. He was so kind in the beginning, so charismatic. He could light up a room with a simple smile. Everyone who knew him wanted to be around him. He could draw a crowd like moths were drawn to a flame, his own warm, inviting light. He was intoxicating.
But when your time alone began to increase, he started to change. He started demanding more, ordering you around, threatening to hurt you and hurt you even more if you told anyone. His light went from warm and inviting to intimidating and scorching. Once it started there was no stopping it. There was no stopping the pain, or the fear. You got burned.
Somehow you always knew it was Nate’s doing. Even when it was his friends doing all the hurting, it was because he had told them to, invited them to it. They did what they did because he wanted them to. They wanted to keep him happy, cause he was just so nice when he was happy and got what he wanted. Even if that meant a world of pain for you.
But this was different. These officers weren’t doing this because Nate had asked them to, or because he wanted them to. They did this for him. They did this to punish you, to make you pay for your mistakes. For killing him. They were blaming you, just like Nate had. No one else had ever blamed you for your pain, said that you deserved it, that you had it coming. No one had ever played with you like a cat with a mouse, working up an appetite, getting ready to consume you whole.
They were playing with you like a toy. Twisting and turning to find the right buttons to push and wind you up, only to let you go and watch as you walked yourself into a wall. There for their amusement. How far would they take their musings? Could it be left at this? This threatening of worse to come but in fact never would? Was it possible?
Tap, tap.
O.o.O.o.O
Jitters went through both their bodies. There was almost the sensation of butterflies in their stomachs, fluttering and flying around. It was more than any one of them had hoped for. Especially for Steve who had gotten his hands on you, had felt your body, your warmth on his fingers. They had barely made it through security and into the sanctuary of the bathroom without anyone seeing the state of them both, Lady Luck being very much on their side. The ride back up to camp had been tense, the air tight with words unspoken and restrained tension.
Steve clenched his hand, moving his fingers against his palm as he remembered the softness of your body, the velvety touch of your pussy through the fabric of your panties. It went straight to his cock. Shamelessly, he palmed himself through his slacks, pressing the heel of his hand down hard before adjusting himself. If only Bucky wasn’t there in the bathroom with him, he might have actually taken a moment to relieve himself of all the pent-up energy. The lingering feel of your warmth was practically begging him to.
“Fuck,” he grunted, fingers gripping the sink hard enough to turn his knuckles white with the pressure.
He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, tried to will his body to cooperate. It wouldn’t exactly be appropriate for an officer to walk around a women’s prison with a boner from groping an inmate. He wasn’t that kind of man, and certainly not that kind of guard. Really.
Bucky chuckled as he dried his hands for the third time after washing them yet again, just to occupy his hands more than anything, keeping them busy enough to not go straight down his pants.
“Language,” he teased.
That was usually Steve’s line for him, not the other way around.
Bucky sighed deeply, feeling his shoulder sag down in relaxation. The echo of your voice was sweet like summer rain on sun kissed skin. The corners of his mouth tugged upwards at the endless loop of your pleas for him not to piss on your bed. The pureness of it, the sweetness. Such a contrast to the act itself. He was proud of himself for that one.
Like Steve, he had trouble getting a hold on himself, the tightness of his trousers straining almost painfully against his hard cock. The men might have released some tension in an army tent surrounded by several other men, and might share a house where the walls were very thin indeed, but jerking off in a locked bathroom with just the two of them in it was a line neither wanted to cross. It was too close, too intimate.
“God, I can’t fucking get rid of it,” Bucky grunted, as he too leaned against the sink with a firmer grip than necessary, head hanging down between his shoulders, willing his body to listen to reason.
“I second that,” Steve said with a sigh.
“You even got to touch her. Jerk.”
Steve scoffed with a grin, watching Bucky through the reflection in the mirror.
“Jealous?” he asked with a shit-eating grin. Not as good as Bucky’s, but good enough.
“Fuck yeah, are you kidding? First a pat-down and then–” he closed his eyes and drew a harsh breath through his nose. “–Fuck! You had your hand down her fucking pants, man.” He met Steve’s all too happy expression in the mirror. “What she feel like?” he asked, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
Steve closed his eyes while exhaling with a puff of air. He shook his head.
“So fucking good,” he huffed out. “She’s so soft it’s like running your fingers through velvet. Even through the underwear I could feel it.”
“Oh, yeah? Does she shave?”
“No,” Steve said with a slight headshake.
“God, I love when they don’t shave it all off. I don’t wanna be fuckin’ a toddler, you know?” he said with a raise of a brow at his friend, who reciprocated with a nod.
“I hear ya. Remember that redhead you used to bring around? The short one, with the 'molest-me-daddy'-voice? What the hell were you thinking there? She shaved everything.”
“She didn’t shave, she fucking lasered it off,” Bucky said with a hint of annoyance at the reminder. “Yeah, I don’t know. I must have been desperate or somethin’.”
Bucky dragged a slow hand through his hair, setting it back in place from where it had fallen onto his face. He was growing it out, liking it longer ever since he got out of the army and he didn’t have to keep it short anymore. Not too long though, the man-bun really wasn’t his style.
“All this talk about sex and velvety pussies isn’t really helping me bring things back to sea-level, if you catch my drift?” Bucky asked with a smirk. “Does it show?”
Steve didn’t even need to glance down at his friends crotch to know that it was.
“Yeah, it shows,” he said, standing up straight and pulling at his belt to test out the waters, so to speak. Still mount Everest.
Bucky chuckled. “Man, we’re like two horny teenagers trying to hide rock-hard boners in slacks,” he said through a laugh. “Fuck!”
He reached down to adjust himself for the fourteenth time, the graze of the zipper sending sparks of pleasure right to his core. Seriously, he could come without even pulling himself out in the open. He really was a fucking teenager.
“Just think about something bad,” Steve said, trying to help both himself and his friend. “Like... cold feet, roadkill, pouring fucking bleach in your eyes, whatever turns you off.”
“Wow, that got dark,” Bucky said with a chuckle. “Sure you okay, Rogers?”
Steve laughed along, knowing that last one was a little weird. But desperate times called for desperate measures. He’d think about eating kitty litter as long as it promised to get rid of his hard-on.
“Just get yourself under control, alright?” he said. “We need to be in the rec room in like two minutes.”
Steve ran the tap to get the coldest possible water, and splashed some on his face and wrist, trying to cool down. Bucky did the same, opting for the only thing left he hadn’t tried yet, that wasn’t the best solution and what he really wanted to do; jerk off.
Neither said a thing, both simply waiting for the water to work its magic and quell the flames of desire. It worked. After several minutes of ice-cold water and the risk of frostbite on their hands and wrists, things settled in both body and mind.
“Thank fucking god,” Bucky sighed in relief, tearing paper from the holder on the wall for both himself and Steve, chuckling as he did. “I thought I was gonna have to walk around hard all day.”
Steve laughed at the reality of it. It was a close call. He hadn’t been so turned on in a long time, and poor Bucky had only gotten to watch.
“Come on,” he said and threw his damp tissue in the garbage. “We gotta take over from Mendez and Wilson. They’re probably wondering where we are.”
The rec room was booming with inmates. It usually was after breakfast, nothing new. It was quite entertaining actually, kept the officers on their toes. A lot of things could transpire, but if it didn’t there was still a great deal of entertainment provided. The Spanish girls were playing dominos, bickering in Español whenever they couldn’t agree on the points. The black girls were doing their version of charades, Crazy Eyes, or Warren as her real name was, keeping time by the clock. And the white girls, the part of Red’s family that didn’t work in the kitchen, were playing scrabble on their homemade board made from a cardboardbox Big Boo had found in the garbage.
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” Mendez said when Steve and Bucky came walking in from the corridor.
Steve bowed his head down with a smile, coming up to stand at the entrance beside the man, Bucky not far behind.
“How you doin’?” Steve asked politely, planting his feet comforatably apart.
“Can’t complain,” Mendez said. “Not a whole lot goin’ on, so can’t say I’m not relieved to leave it all in your capable hands, and go get me some fresh air.”
Mendez started walking out of the room, interrupted by Bucky’s voice.
“You takin’ Wilson with you?”
All three looked over at CO Wilson who was standing on the other side of the room, overseeing a cardgame. How exciting.
“Hell no, he ain’t my partner. We don’t all couple up like you guys,” Mendez said with a laughter that turned quite nervous when meeting the other officers’ eyes.
He cleared his throat to cover for his slipup. He didn’t mean to ensinuate anything, but he knew the ice was wearing thin when it came to Barnes, and he’d rather keep them both on his good side.
“Besides,” he went on, ignoring his earlier comment. “He’s on mailduty today, with Bell and O’Neill. They can have him. Hey, Wilson!”
Sam lifted his head at the call of his name, seeing the other officers standing by the door, Mendez clearly leaving and nodding his head for him to follw suit. He uncrossed his folded arms and started walking towards them. After his little encounter in the staffroom where Barnes had been on him like a fucking raging Pitbull, he had no intention of interacting with either men more than necessary. So he just nodded his head at them when passing.
“Sam,” Steve said in acknowledgement as the other man left.
Bucky stayed silent, just sighing in annoyance.
“Calm down, Bucky. He didn’t say anything,” Steve said calmly.
“They say silence speaks louder than words,” Bucky countered, earning a lovable chuckle from Steve.
“You just have to find a reason to argue with the guy? Come on, he’s probably still a little freaked-out from your outburst the other day.”
“What fucking outburst?” Steve just continued laughing at the tone of Bucky’s voice, clearly aggitated. “You saying I have a temper?”
“Oh, god, yes! Just look at you. He just walked past you and you’re getting all riled up.”
Bucky exhaled loudly, trying to force the annoyance out of his body.
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be if I’d gotten to relieve a little tension before coming here. How the fuck are you so calm? You were just as fucking hard as I was just a minute ago.”
Steve bumped a shoulder into Bucky’s, getting a scolding look from the other man. Bucky looked at him annoyed.
“What?”
“Keep your voice down,” Steve said low through gritted teeth. “You want the whole camp to know?”
“Oh, please. Half of these inmates would probably cream their panties at the thought of us with raging hard-ons in the bathroom,” Bucky said matteroffactly.
“Yeah, well, it’s not really the inmates I’m worried about,” Steve said as he looked around the room to make sure no one was paying attention to their conversation.
Bucky raised his brows, looking at Steve like he was something out of a cartoon or something.
“Please,” he said. “If the administration’s got their eyes on anyone, it’s Mendez. Okay? We’re model fucking officers compared to that guy. They love that sadistic fuck, but if anything was to happen with an inmate, he’s suspect number one, I guarentee you that.”
Steve nodded, defeatedly. He knew Mendez wasn’t up to code when it came to how he handled matters with the inmates. He knew he was dealing drugs, paid for in blowjobs most likely, but he wouldn’t put it past him to go even furhter than that. He wasn’t one to shy away from an opportunity if it presented itself. With Steve and Bucky it was different. It was personal. That made it different.
O.o.O.o.O
A loud rattling woke you with a fright where you lay face down on the floor. Your face almost stuck to the sticky surface where you must have passed out from sheer panic, or maybe exhaustion. The growing stench of urine gave you a bearing on your surroundings, the cold ground a harsh reminder of where you were. The more you breathed the more you recalled the incident with the officers, your face crunching up at the stench of testosterone, dens in the air.
Pain blossomed and spiked through your hands as you moved to a seated position. Stale blood covered the skin, creating cracks like a delta when you clenched your fingers. Your head felt fussy, heavy. Like it was filled with a gallon of water. A rush of gratefulness coursed through you at the sensation, as it blocked your thoughts enough to not let the panic set in straight away. Even a minute without it was heaven.
The red door was being pulled open, revealing another male guard. You moved to something like a crouch, anything to not leave yourself too exposed. The spark of pain gave a strong warning of needing to protect yourself. You couldn’t take anything more being done to you, psychically or mentally.
The man wasn’t that tall nor that big, but his persona still read somewhat of power. He stood in the doorway with cuffs ready in hand, looking down at you. He wasn’t fazed by the state of you, clearly used to inmates getting into some weird shit when in solitary.
“Shower time,” he said, before the messed-up bedding drew his attention. He furrowed his brows and sniffed the air, regretting it when the sharp odour hit his nose.
“Oh, fuck!” He covered his face with the crease of his elbow, looking at you accusingly. “Use the fucking toilet, ya nasty,” he said, his voice muffled by his arm.
You followed his gaze over to the soaked matrass and blanket, the burn of tears prominent in your eyes at the sight, at the memory. How the new guard couldn’t put two and two together and smell the clear indication of testosterone in the stench was mind-blowing. He was clearly accusing you of wetting the bed. Last time you checked your testosterone levels weren’t high enough to cause that much of a reek.
“I didn’t–” you started, but stopped yourself.
‘No cameras’. There were no cameras in the room, and no proof of it not being your doing. And you knew he wouldn’t believe you if you claimed that two of his fellow officers had come in here to grope you and piss on your bed. He really didn’t seem like the type of guard to believe an inmate over an officer, but he did look like the type to run and tell should you try to clear your case. Better to not say anything at all, than risk having Peeve and Fucky find out and do even worse.
“Come on, let’s go,” the officer urged, taking a step back not to stand in the stinking cell.
You shot up, ribs complaining at the sudden movement. You hissed, slowing your movements as you stood. There wasn’t just the pain caused by bruises and scrapes, the floor was an unforgiving resting spot, and it seemed like every muscle in your body had turned to stone and strained uncomfortably when you tried to wake them.
“Uhm... I don’t need to shower,” you said, taking a step back, wanting to keep the distance as much as you could.
You had survived the looks, the touches and the threats of officers Rogers and Barnes. You body had already been invaded, violated in horrid ways, and couldn’t withstand any more. Though the haunting brushes of Steve’s fingers over your skin and most private parts you wouldn’t mind washing away. If it was even possible. They scorched their marks on you, holding on for dear life to keep you reminded of what could come to pass.
The officer first gave you a stern gaze, then looked over at the bed, and the mess of it. His eyes spoke volumes, clearly indicating that you did need to shower after making that mess. But he opted for the routine speech.
“Inmates are required to shower at least two times a week, and today is shower day. Let’s go, Harper.”
You didn’t want to go with him, not a man. You didn’t want to hurt anymore.
“Are-aren’t there any female CO’s around? I-I have a right to a-a female officer in the shower.”
It was a daring move, arguing with a CO, but you really didn’t want a male officer near you in such a vulnerable state, not if you could help it. The fight to persist was slowly dying out, and the salvation of cleanliness was luring you in. You wanted to wash. You wanted to be clean. As clean as can be anyway.
“No, there aren’t,” the officer said. “And even if there was, we are under no obligation to comply. This is solitary confinement, you take what you get. Don’t make me come in there and drag your ass out.”
The man didn’t look all too pleased with you, and you really didn’t want to know what being dragged out of your cell felt like. With slow, shuffling steps you walked over to the officer, your aching knee arguing. He raised a questioning brow at the limp, but didn’t ask. No one ever seemed to ask.
“Hands together,” he said, and readied his cuffs.
You did what he said, grateful to have your hands cuffed in front of you and not behind. It allowed for some protection against assault should there be any. Though, this particular guard didn’t seem all that violent. You just hoped it would stay that way even when your clothes came off. Did he know who you were? Did he know who Nate had been?
The unrelenting steel around your wrists dug in as you moved, and the flashback of it being officer Rogers hands cuffing you threatened to surface. The coarseness of his fingertips, all too gentle in their grazes, before turning demanding, hurtful, lusting.
You drew a shallow breath, releasing it shakily. Stay here, Jess. He’ll be gone soon. The water will cleanse you of his touch.
The showers were empty. There was only one inmate at a time, for safety reasons, so at least there’s that. You had been handed a clean towel from a bin, and a new set of clothes and underwear from yet another male officer. Thankfully, he left it at handing things out, and didn’t come with you to the showers. It was just you, and officer Barton.
CO Barton released your hands and told you to strip by the bench opposite the showers. He was standing just a few feet away with his arms crossed menacingly over his chest. He looked like he was in no mood to argue, but it wasn’t as intimidating as Rogers or Barnes. You had to try.
“Are-are you gonna be watching me the entire time?” you asked, feeling tears sting your eyes.
Showering with an audience was torment enough, scars and marks on display, but to do it with a single male officer present was proving almost too much to handle.
“Yep,” he said, not moving a muscle.
Your entire body went rigid and goose bumps rushed to cover every inch of your skin. You had to get naked. In front of a man. There was no part of you that wanted to let you do this, but you felt the impending doom of a temper lost draw nearer, and you opted for the only other option to not have panic set in right then and there; do it quick.
“Could... could you turn around at least? Please?”
Your voice was timid, clearly afraid, barely louder than a whisper in the night.
The officer sighed defeatedly, and turned to his side to only see you out of his peripheral vision. Tears began to fall freely, relief and gratitude soaring through you from the first and only kindness shown by a male guard.
Your fingers were stiff as the ones of a corpse when ridding of the clothes keeping the story underneath hidden from the world. Your body fought your mind the entire way, and your mind was more than willing to get on that train as well. But you had to do it. You had to persevere, dare to hope that the officer wouldn’t harm you even though he could, the opportunity presenting itself like a flower opening up to a bee.
You kept your back turned to the officer, trying to protect the most shameful stories. Your back could tell its own story, but it wasn’t the main attraction drawing attention at least. Wrapping yourself as much as you could in the coarse towel, you walked up to one of the cubicles, your underwear still on like always. There weren’t any curtains, nothing to shield you from view, nothing to protect you. You looked back over at the officer, who was still standing with his side turned to you. You suspected he could still see quite a bit of the ‘stories’ that littered your body, but he made no comment on it. Just hang in there, little flower.
You hung the towel on the side of the stall, protecting your bare chest with your arms as much as you could. Soap and shampoo were already standing on a small shelf in the corner of the stall, beckoning you to hurry up and get on with it.
Never once did you turn around to neither confirm or deny that the officer had kept his eyes averted, or stayed where he was, just living on the hope that he did. You could almost feel the scars burn and seethe on your skin, like they were calling out for attention. ‘Please look at us’. ‘Please acknowledge us’. ‘Please ask about us’. Please don’t.
Your skin reddened and blushed from the pressure of your fingers, eager to remove Steve’s invisible marks. Nails scratched hard where they could, leaving scrapes in their wake. The bruises, at first prominent and contrasting, now blended and faded with the tender redness caused by your own will. As your hand slipped beneath the hem of your underwear, a flash of memory hit like a lightning in your mind, quick and sudden. His fingers, his hand, his touch. You couldn’t stop it. Everything came up.
You fell to your knees just as the first hurl worked its way up your throat and spewing its contents over the drain. The mush of whatever you had been eating got stuck in the cracks, before the water disintegrated it enough to let it pass. Your stomach contracted again, spitting out more bile, until nothing more came out, leaving you to dry heave till your oesophagus relaxed.
Officer Barton looked worriedly over at you. He couldn’t see much, but he gathered what was happening by the sound. He didn’t want to impose. You had asked him for privacy, and he had given as much as he was allowed, and any interference at this stage would probably do more harm than good. So, he left you to it. At least it was an easy clean-up.
If your body was weak and aching before, it was shaking worse than an aspen leaf now. Your legs had trouble supporting your weight as you stood, despite leaning on the wall to keep from falling. Tears hid in the steady stream falling from above, the salt quickly washed away before it stung the gash on your face.
Breathe in, breathe out. You’re here, they’re not. You focused on the splash of water showering over your skin, feeling the tracks left as they slithered down. Okay, one more try.
With a generous amount of soap coating your palm and fingers, you reached down again, this time with purpose. Steve’s grazes had been light at first, their tracing gentle to begin with, before he had gripped you harder. So, you kept you pressure consistent, right between the two, and managed to clean yourself thoroughly, every haunting trace of his fingers gone, washed away. You released the breath you had unconsciously been holding, the hot air coming out in a quick, shuddering huff.
Turning the water off with one hand, you hastily grabbed the towel in the other and covered yourself from view. Okay, you were clean, you were covered. It’s done. You’re done.
Careful as to not trip on the slippery tiles, you walked back to the bench to begin to dress in the new and fresh clothes waiting there. The relief of having clean clothes to wear couldn’t be denied even if you tried, not after sitting on that awful floor, bloodstains all over and sleeping several hours in the old ones. Not after the... incident. The smell or urine had seeped into your hair, and the smell of the most basic shampoo was like a high-end perfume in comparison. Even the soap smelled like a garden of roses on your skin.
“Were you in an accident or something?”
The sound of the officer’s voice startled you. It was soft, and low. Like when you’re speaking to a frightened puppy who just made a mess on the carpet.
You knew what he wanted to hear, you knew what he was asking, and it wasn’t why you had thrown up. You knew what he had seen. And you also knew that he didn’t actually think that an accident had left all of those little marks here and there, and long, wide ones in other places. No one ever thought that after seeing so much of it. You knew he was prying for the story, but not wanting to be blunt. But you couldn’t care less about what he wanted.
“Yes,” you said, and pulled a new bra over the towel secured around you.
“When did––”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” you interrupted before he could ask. “If that’s okay?” you added softly.
“Okay,” he nodded. “That’s fine.”
He turned his head away even more than before, not even spotting you in his peripheral vision anymore. With your back turned to him he knew you didn’t see it, but he could give you the relief of not feeling his eyes on you when you made quick work of dressing.
The grass was greener on the other side. It was greener, cleaner and better. The glass didn’t seem as broken. The mirror didn’t seem as shattered. You didn’t seem that close to falling apart. If it was a fleeting moment, then you would enjoy it. If it was just here, in the steaming shower room with fresh clothes and newly washed hair, then you would enjoy every second of it.
When you were safely tucked away in your new prison attire, long sleeved shirt warming you underneath the khaki shirt, you slowed down. You were covered, protected, and CO Barton hadn’t moved from his spot in the doorway. He was fiddling with his cuffs, twirling them around his finger as he waited for you to be done.
“We’ll give you a new cell until we can get the other one cleaned,” he said when he placed the steel bands back on your wrists.
You met his eyes, finding the green softer than it had been when he was scolding you for supposedly peeing the bed.
“Thank you,” you said, voice even and strong.
He smiled down at you, just a quick tug of his lips. It was more of a place marker than anything else. Something to show that he heard you.
On the way back to the holding cells, CO Barton keeping a comfortable grip on your upper arm as he led you back through the maze of corridors, you passed a new guard standing by the counter to what you gathered was the intake, a female guard. Hm, guess it was just resistance on Barton’s part that led you to believe there were no female officers around. You couldn't find the will to be mad, the man had been kinder than you’d ever expect. A little disappointed perhaps, but you let that feeling drop away when Officer Barton stopped to talk to her.
“I’m moving Harper from B12 to B14. She’s... made a mess of the bed and it needs to be cleaned out.”
The woman, A. McCullough it read on her blue shirt, looked over at you as she grabbed a clipboard from the counter.
“What she do?” she asked, her voice smoky and rumbling, not at all what you’d imagine.
Her blonde hair was tied back in a neat bun, controlled, much like her personality you’d expect.
“The bedding needs to be washed, and everything scrubbed clean,” Barton informed.
You looked down. Now both officers thought you had wet the bed, great. But CO McCullough didn’t make a snide remark like you thought she might, too focused on the clipboard in her hands.
“She’s here for contraband,” she read out, looking up at you. “What was the contraband, inmate?” she asked.
“A lighter,” you said.
There was no use in telling the truth of its presence, no one believed you anyway.
“Hmm, doesn’t seem that serious,” she said, and dropped the board back down with a slap on the counter. “Well, she’s been here four days now, and we’re running low on cells. Think it’s time to let her back up to camp?”
What? Did you hear her correctly? Were they discussing your release back to gen pop? How green was this side? Was there a paradise lurking around a corner somewhere too?
“Sure,” CO Barton said, his grip on your arm lessening profoundly. “Call camp and send for the van. I’ll bring Harper up to the parking lot. Let’s go, inmate.”
You gladly followed the officer through the Max facility back up to the where the van would soon show. Anything to get out of this hellhole. Had it only been four days? It seemed a lot longer to you, even though you’d, thankfully, slept through the most part. How you hadn’t gone mad was beyond you, but the reality was that you hadn’t. You weren’t broken. Then it hit you. The reason for your restful nights and full stomach. The reason you’d thought SHU to be a blessing in disguise. Because of the absence of two people in particular. Officers Barnes and Rogers.
Not asking for sells but could you check it out and come back here and let me know what you think it my first post and I am still learning how to do this
Knight escorting his prince/ss back to their bed chamber after a long evening of merriment and drinking. Prince/ss wobbles and struggles to stand up straight, leaning against their loyal knight’s muscled form. Knight ignoring the wandering hands and pleading coos of their prince/ss, desperate for touch. It’d be improper.
“Here we are, your highness, now let’s get you to bed…”
Prince/ss pouting and insisting that they are simply too helpless to undress all on their own, that they just need their knight’s assistance to disrobe. Knight holding his breath as he loosens ties and watches fabric fall to reveal prince/ss’s skin, soft and warm with blush. Knight clenching his jaw but letting eyes wander along the curves of their royal highness’s form. It’d be improper.
Knight tucking their prince/ss beneath blankets with a chaste kiss on their forehead and a gentle brushing of hair from their face. Knight closing the door of prince/ss room softly behind himself as he heads back to his own quarters. It’d be improper.
Knight, alone in his bed, sweaty and flustered, desperately bucking and rutting himself into his own hand. Knight growling and whining, utterly desperate, mumbling his prince/ss’s name again and again until he cums, shuddering. Knight panting and catching his breath, staring hopelessly up at the ceiling. He’s not sure how many more nights like this he can take before breaking…
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