hopelessly devoted to you ➾ knight!bucky barnes x princess!reader, a starving, homeless man who was once a knight saves you when you are attacked in the midst of a famine raging across the kingdom. james protects you instinctively, not knowing who you are, and moved by guilt, admiration and an immediate affection, you insist on helping him. still feeling unworthy of your touch and kindness, james’ devotion to you becomes absolute, shaped by gratitude, love and obsession. (listen, im a whore for medieval au, and knights! au, and this was absolutely heart breakingly amazing, THE YEARNING? THE ENDING? THE ABSOLUTE DEVOTION that this man has? I-)
country roads, take me home ➾ dbf!bucky barnes x female!reader, after graduating college, you return to your father’s hometown, disheartened and uncertain about the future. two years later, you have a stable job, a trustworthy best friend and a doting boyfriend who wants to spend the rest of his life with you, and dreams of kids looking like you two running around his farm. the only problem? he's your dad's best friend! (I bitterly through I was going to cry at how cute and amazing this fic is.. you have stolen my heart with this fic, THE ENDING? so perfect)
works by @danysdaughter
the soldier and the vixen ➾ 40s!bucky x 40s!fem!reader & winter!soldier x hydra!reader & post!tfatws!bucky x fem!reader, once comrades bound by war and affection, two soldiers-turned-weapons are reshaped into monsters by hydra, their humanity fractured and memories blurred. now free but haunted, they struggle to untangle love from programming, grief from guilt, and healing from the wreckage of who they used to be (THIS IS MY FAVORITE BUCKY FIC EVER. I took this to my mind palace so many times im sobbing. I love it so much)
cетка ➾ civil!war!bucky x widow!reader, when you, a former red room widow crosses paths with the man who once trained you—now a ghost of the monster you remember—your collision reignites memories neither of you can outrun. in a world that only ever taught you two to survive, you find something you were never trained for: each other. (HOLY SHIT!!! the whole start where they meet and its just them rediscovering life together and hanging out is insane. like I could bathe in that all day, and then the ending!!?? like babes this is brilliant)
drown me gently ➾ new!avenger!bucky x siren!reader, a half-siren joins the new avengers, hiding centuries of shame beneath skin that was never yours to begin with. but when bucky barnes sees past the danger to the devastating loneliness underneath, the monster you fear you are finally begins to unravel. (OH MY GOD, this was gorgeous, so beautiful, the whole dynamic of the two, it was so cute and just ahhhhh. crying)
lost ➾ lost au!, you and bucky were supposed to be going home—then your plane crashed, and you were left to survive the island thinking he didn’t make it. (OH MY GOD, this made my week. I can't stop thinking about them, I need more of these two)
sweet love, all night long ➾ it becomes your responsibility to help the winter soldier heal—not just his body, but the fractured remnants of his mind. what begins as stern guidance slowly grows into something deeper, as you teach him how to be a man again, not a weapon. (AHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHH)
works by @blowingbarnes
you vex me ➾ Bridgeton au! She’s only here to make sure her sister finds the right match. All he wants is someone of good enough breeding to be a companion, not a lover. What could possibly go wrong and who could’ve foreseen it? (GIRL I HAVE READ THIS NOT ONCE, BUT TWICE. I fucking love this fic with my whole heart, it was so freaking amazing)
but daddy I love him ➾ little mermaid au!, you were never supposed to interact with the shore people, told yourself just keeping their artifacts was enough. But a storm that crashes Bucky into the sea has different ideas, a mermaid who doesn't know the rules ends up too close to a prince who doesn't follow them. (STFU, I LOVED THIS SO FUCKING MUCH R U KIDDING ME?? GIRL- GIRL- I-, I am speechless, breathless-)
never leave me ➾ wuthering heights au, You and Bucky grew up together, after your father adopted him, and one day the tension snaps. (AAAHHH)
works by @buckysleftbicep
bent and bruised (series) ➾ new avengers!bucky barnes x fem!ex-hydra!reader, you were built by HYDRA to please the soldier—then left for dead. years later, bucky sees your face again. but no amount of time can erase the way you once whispered his name through tears. (HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT. THIS THIS THIS this is brilliant, this is magic.)
cradles and chaos ➾ new avenger!bucky x pregnant!fem!reader, you wanted to surprise bucky with the news—you’re pregnant. the only problem? everyone else on the team found out first. cue the chaos. (the banter and character dynamic have me CRYING. in love with this, I could read it 500 times)
high for this ➾ new avenger!bucky x fem!reader, during a mission, you and bucky are exposed to a gas meant to strip away restraint. he resists, and well, you try. but when the heat fades, it’s not the mission that haunts you both, it’s what happened behind that door. (I needed a good cold shower after this, holy crap)
for better or for worse ➾ new avenger!bucky x fem!reader, you and bucky are forced to play newlyweds at a luxury honeymoon resort. he’s controlling, you’re reckless, and now you’re sharing a bed. the problem? it’s getting harder to play pretend. and you’re not sure either of you will survive what comes next. (I- this whole series had me HOOKED. the tension. the yearning, the banter, the angst? obsessed)
just one race ➾ biker!bucky barnes x fem!biker!reader (modern au), two years ago, you fucked bucky and never called back. when he sees you again, he's not just racing for the win. (THIS WAS SO HOT. girl. I-)
works by @buckyseternaldoll
seargant's magic mouth ➾ you thought you were just his fling. He thought you were his girl. then you overheard steve teasing bucky about his legendary skills in the bedroom—particularly his mouth. bucky gets flustered. you get curious. a week later, he proved he’s still got it. (THE DYNAMIC? the yearning? im here, im sold. I love this)
five seconds, five years (series) ➾ bucky barnes proposed just days before the world ended — afraid he might never get another chance. Then he vanished in Wakanda. Five years later, he’s at your door — unchanged, while your whole life has moved on. Some love survives time. But what happens when life doesn’t wait? (stop this made me cry- genuinely on the edge the whole time, loved it)
works by @artficlly
lessons in lovemaking (series) ➾ bucky x blackwidow!reader, you and bucky barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pants—leaving you both stunned. (WAAAAAAAAAA, STOP THIS IS A MASTERPIECE IN EVERY WAY POSSIBLE, SOBBING CRYING THROWING UP. genuinely think this is one of my fav bucky series out there. the way the reader is torn with her own demons and the yearning for it to be normal but- AGH. I'm stunned and obsessed w this series darling.)
this is (not) fine ➾ personal assistant!reader personal assistant rules: don’t crush on bucky barnes. definitely don’t misinterpret a flower delivery and spiral into silent heartbreak, and absolutely never ever get stuck alone with him in an elevator. (OH MY GOD. STOP. THIS. THIS. im obsessed w the amount of detailing of what the team needs ect.. I adored it so much and the way everythning is descried and bucky noticing shit ;') stop im crying. and the smut?? holy cow I- I think its killed me)
his girls ➾ alpine barely tolerates anyone but bucky, so when she curls up in your lap without a second thought, the team is left reeling—especially when it leads to the not-so-subtle revelation that you and bucky have been sneaking around for months. (THE FLUFF ENDED ME, stop this was too cute)
me & the devil - western au ➾ outlaw!bucky x saloon girl!readerthe diamondback saloon and hotel has always attracted bad men, and bucky barnes happens to be one of them. (I AM SUCH A SUCKER for saloon girl x outlaw au, like it just hits, and this was so fucking beautiful. wish there was a part two, sobbing)
works by @barnesonly
forwards bacon rebound & half return ➾ 40’s!bucky barnes x reader, You finally found love. Found your place in the world, as your brother’s best friend fell for you with a kind of devotion that made life feel safe for once. But everything changed when he got drafted to war and you refused to be left behind. (HOLY FUCK, THIS FIC? THIS WHOLE WORLD??? I'm such a sucker for Steve's sister! reader, and this just was everything that could I ever fucking dreamt of in a fic. The angst? The fluff? the heartbreak!? Agh agh agh. Girly you have messed with my heartstrings, broken it and patched it back together again. sobbing. fucking sobbing.)
yearning ➾ you and bucky have been together for a while now, but haven’t had sex yet—he’s insecure, afraid he forgot how. but one night, things finally happen… (holy shit this was so sexy and amazing and SWEET, and just ugh. I loved every inch of this fic thank you for the masterpiece AGH)
(series) lust ➾ professor!bucky barnes x reader, you’re a literature student. he’s your english professor — brilliant, composed, and entirely off-limits. But the more you write, the more he notices you. And what begins as admiration quietly unravels into something far more dangerous. (THE WAY I ATE THIS SERIES UP. Its still on going, but I just could not stop reading. oh my god. there's just something about it.)
(series) illegal ➾ mob! bucky x fbi! reader, you’re an FBI agent sent undercover to get close to the most dangerous mob boss in the city. But the deeper you go, the harder it gets to remember which side you’re really on. (HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT this series is insane. INSANE. fucking mind blowing insane. I am in love with the vibe, the love story, the angst, AGH)
works by @cursedheartsclub
about time ➾ bucky barnes never looked at you twice. Too cold. Too distant. Too focused on the mission. You were too much, he said—too loud, too close, too everything. So you stopped trying. Then you woke up in 1943. And he was there—James Buchanan Barnes, all charm and swagger and soft smiles, looking at you like you hung the stars. Flirting like it was breathing. Touching like he already knew your body. Calling you his girl. You told yourself it wasn’t real. That you couldn’t stay. But seven days in the past can ruin a person. Especially when the present is waiting. And when you come back? He remembers. All of it. (HOLY FUCK. THIS WAS- I think I ascended and came back down from heaven. I- so fucking hot, so fucking devastating. I love these two w all my heart, and the whole 40's bit was just aaaaaaaaa. I love this babes, this was- agh so amazing. I don't think ill ever recover.)
becoming mrs. barnes & the barnes conspiracy ➾ (secret wife au) Before the secrets. Before the team starts snooping. Before anyone found a second dog tag with the wrong last name— There was this. A slow, quiet love story between the ex-assassin and the woman who saw him clearly. Sam and Joaquin know. They’ve practically staged a security detail. But the New Avengers—Bucky’s new team of misfits and second-chancers? They have no idea he goes home to a wife. And soon… a baby. (THIS WAS SO CUTE IT SENT ME SPIRALING OH MY GOD)
bound to burn ➾ you’ve never kissed Bucky Barnes—never even touched. Now you’re in his lap at a club in Romania, panties pushed to the side, grinding on his thigh while a voyeuristic arms dealer watches from the shadows. The mission said do whatever it takes—so you do. You moan for him. You beg for him. You come on his fingers in a mirrored room with someone else on the other side of the glass. And the worst part? None of it feels fake. Not his voice in your ear. Not his mouth between your legs. Not the way he says, “Eyes on me, doll.” And when it’s all over? You still ache for him, and he’s still carrying your panties in his pocket. (HOLY FUCK. I think this was one of the hottest fics on earth. It got me on my knees. I cannot stop thinking about it, genuinely. God this was a masterpiece)
works by @firingstars
match made & locked in ➾ congressman!bucky x matchmaker!reader, as a politician, bucky can no longer be caught swiping around on dating apps. sam decides to sign up his romantically stunted friend for a more sophisticated service instead. (AHHHHHHH AHHHHH, this was so amazing oh my god. the smut? gorgeous. the banter with sam? double gorgeous. the way part two opens with the discussion w sam SOBBING. the way bucky is such a grump but actually a simp for the reader. crying sobbing throwing up, love this. dying for their wakanda wedding)
hold on (even if it's fake) ➾ new avengers!bucky x new avengers!reader public interaction with the new avengers has never been worse, and all of valentina's previous PR stunts have effectively failed, and only caused the team to become walking memes rather than heroes. in a last ditch effort to save face, valentina proposes a new plan: make the leader of the thunderbolts publicly date a member of the original avengers team. (STOP, THIS! THIS. this. I am obsessed. the whole plot with Steve? her friendship with him and how she just slowly descends into spiraling because of her promise? crying. im such a sucker for this.)
other works by amazing writers
manchild by @houseofhyde ➾ bucky can't help but wonder why they always come running to you,, or your living fossil of a roommate disapproves of your taste in men and its totally not because he wants a taste of you. (HOLY COW, the yearning? the pinning? the LAYERS, the banter? the slutting out on the floor of her kitchen while repairing her sink? yes. amen.)
come back to me by @peterparkive ➾ post-thunderbolts!bucky x fem!reader, it’s been three years since you and Bucky called it quits. you learned to live without him, to stop waiting for a knock that would never come. until tonight, when he shows up at your front door with his team and tired eyes, asking for a place to crash. his presence, bathed in the soft light of your doorstep, stirs feelings long buried—ones you thought had vanished the night he did. (OH MY GOD. the yearning??? the angst?? im living for it. Yelena being a menace, and the whole dynamic!!?? crying sobbing throwing up!!)
honey girl by @violentdelightsandviolentends ➾ dbf! bucky, soulmate au, The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate. (agh I ate this series up so much. The vibes? the yearning and the push and pull. ugh this was amazing)
one dance by @daxisyzz ➾ mafia!best man!Bucky Barnes x moh!Reader, bride!Natasha Romanoff x groom!Steve Rogers, Your best friend Natasha is marrying a man whose world you don’t understand. At her extravagant wedding, you’re just trying to blend in — until a pair of blue eyes finds you from across the aisle. James Buchanan Barnes, Steve’s right hand, watches you like you don’t belong here… and maybe like you do. (HOLY SHIT. this was absolutely stunning. I ADORED every bit of it. and just the dynamics oh my god.)
reckless fever, lover girl by @rosesaints ➾ avenger!reader, you think it’s nothing—just a one-off, a fluke—when bucky softens at the sight of a baby in your arms during a cookout. but then it keeps happening. babies at airports. babies on recon. babies in vending machine ads. and every time, he looks at you like you’re the answer to a question he hasn’t asked out loud yet. he starts carrying gum “in case someone’s kid gets fussy on a flight,” stares too long at tiny boots in store windows, and once, unironically, asks if your hypothetical child would like goats. you’re not dating. officially. no one knows. but you’ve been sharing a bed for months and he makes you tea without asking and you’re starting to have dreams about pacifiers. he’s subtle about it. until he’s not. until he’s standing at a target, holding a baby hat like it cracked his ribs open, and says he wants a family—with you. not someday. now. (THIS WAS SO WELL WRITTEN. I- I-. The dynamic, and the yearning, and the way Bucky was written, STOP- I- I'm going to cry. I'm on my knees for this, this was so beautiful)
walls by @aquaticmercy ➾ ex-widow!reader, you never ask for help, even when your boyfriend wants to help you. (stop the angst and trauma and character building was so peak. I loved this fic so much holy cow)
saltwater vows by @wildflowersandvibranium ➾ pirate!bucky x princess!reader, you fall in love with a pirate, you run away, until they accept him in court, and he has to learn etiquette (this made me so soft in the knees, im crying over them, this was absolutely amazing. crying.)
(series) cowboy casanova by @amoremarveloustime ➾ cowboy! bucky, You return to your rural hometown after living in the big city since high school. Your grandma—your safe space—offers you a room in her house for the summer to escape everything going on in your life. Which, sounds like exactly what you need, until you meet a grumpy cowboy who seems to hate you. And, you hate him too. (GIRL, this fic, these two, stayed in my mind palace for months. I loved this series so fucking much.)
so, this is love? by @superbassbuck ➾ cinderella au!, The Prince of Brooklynne is hosting a grand ball to find a future princess. But when you secretly slip away from your chores to attend, it isn't the Prince’s heart you capture—it’s his father’s, King Barnes. (STFU. GIRL. I NEED a glass of water and some time to recover. WHAT!? WHAT!? you just cooked masterpiece, dropped this and expected us mere, common mortal to be OKAY? to RECOVER? this is forever going to live in my mind palace.)
bloomed beneath the soldier by @heldbybarnes ➾ rapunzle au, they said your body kept the forest alive — that no man could touch you without breaking the spell. but when a dying soldier stumbles into your tower, bleeding and desperate, you let him taste what was never meant to be his. now the vines bloom at every breath between you, and your sweetness has become his curse. (GIRL you have bewitched my body and soul with this masterpiece.)
it's not the same river by @goldiwrites ➾ pre civil war!bucky x fem!reader, congressman!bucky x mom!reader, your life is forever changed after a tender night with your quiet, traumatised neighbour in bucharest. years later, you're living in brooklyn with your five year old daughter and run into congressman barnes. he's everything you remembered and more, and now he wants to be part of yours and jamie's lives. (stop, i loved this so so so so so so so much, how bucky has the hots for her and just is relentless with it til she breaks. I would love to see these two even further in time and like the daughter's reaction to them being acc together agh !!!! omgg. loved loved loved)
to have an to hold office (series) by @deja-you ➾ congressman!Bucky Barnes x black widow!reader, After a late-night in New Orleans, Congressman Bucky Barnes and his chief of staff wake up legally married. An annulment should be simple, but unfortunately, nothing about their lives is simple. With Bucky's reputation on the line and her past threatening to resurface, staying married starts to look like the safest option. It's only supposed to be temporary. Public appearances, a convincing story, and a quiet divorce once the headlines fade. But fake marriage is harder when everyone else believes it. Especially when Bucky is already in love with his wife. (AHHHHHH THIS IS AMAZING, i am obssed w this series, you've got me hooked, ready to get my heart torn out and hopefully mended)
Summary: Your coworkers drag you to a pool hall for the annual holiday party and you meet a stranger there who takes an interest in you, mistakes your polite friendliness as something more, and won’t take no for an answer. This is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor and @cream-filled-delights' Cream-Filled Delights Writing Challenge!
Prompt: “Stay the fuck on me.”
Warning: Dark, non-con smut (p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, bathroom sex, forced orgasm, breast play, creampie), sexual harassment, hand on neck, slight choking, triggering non-con quotes and dialog.
Main Masterlist || Read on AO3
“Those are for kids,” he says, nodding at the pool cue in your hands. He has dark hair that hangs just above his shoulders; a neatly trimmed beard frames his jaw. “Or someone much shorter.”
“Oh…” you utter as you glance at the cue you just picked up.
“Here, use this one.” He plucks the cue from your grasp, pulls a longer one from the stand, and places it in your hands.
“Thanks,” you say, glancing back at your coworkers. They’re crowded around the small food table, too busy helping themselves to notice you. A red-and-green Christmas vinyl tablecloth is stretched beneath a handful of plates and a bright red bowl packed with ice and canned sodas. A small plastic pine tree is its centerpiece, decked in little pool ball ornaments.
You have decided to inspect the pool table instead, letting your coworkers get their fill rather than fighting for a share.
"I'm Bucky," he says with an easy smile, extending a hand.
You shift the cue stick to your other hand before reaching out to shake his, quietly offering your name in return. His black t-shirt clings tightly to a broad, muscular frame, the fabric stretching across his thick chest. His left arm catches your eye, its material sleek and metallic, glinting with black and gold in the light. You catch yourself staring.
“That’s cute, by the way.” Bucky points to the crocheted Santa hat adorning your head. Everyone in your office was strongly encouraged to wear something festive to the holiday party.
You tear your eyes away from his prosthetic arm and manage to uncomfortably giggle, “Oh, uh, thanks.” You fiddle with the drooping pom-pom of the hat.
“You ever played before?” he asks.
“No... But how hard can it be?”
“Oh?” Bucky grins, amused. “Alright then; show me what you’ve got.”
You scoff, step up to the table, and lean in to take your shot. Carefully, you line up the cue, then jab it forward… only to graze the edge of the cue ball, sending it rolling away barely an inch.
Behind you, Bucky chuckles.
You feel your face heating up. Clearing your throat, you shift your stance and try again, more determined… but the cue slips in your grip, scraping the felt, and missing the ball entirely.
Bucky chuckles again. “Are you left-handed?”
You straighten, flustered. “No?”
He smiles, patient but clearly enjoying himself. “Then you’re holding it wrong. Left hand guides the cue. Right hand shoots.”
“Oh…”
“Here, like this,” Bucky says as he takes the cue from you. “Left hand on the table.”
He pushes at your shoulder until you bend over.
You let out an unsure, “Uh…” but he ignores it and grabs your left hand, places your palm onto the table, and adjusts your fingers and wrist.
He slides the cue between your index and middle fingers, then wraps your index around the stick. “Gently, don’t grip it too hard. This is a closed bridge, offers more stability.”
Before you can react, he takes your right hand and wraps it around the end of the stick. “Use this hand to shoot,” he says.
“You wanna get down low,” he continues as he presses down on your lower back. “Get eye level with the ball so you can get a good sightline.”
“Um, Bucky-”
“Hold it steady,” he says as he places his prosthetic hand over yours on the table, “and zero in on your target.” He leans over you and presses his torso against your back; his hips dig into your ass.
“H-hey!” you incredulously protest.
“And then you shoot.” Bucky grabs your right hand and forces you to strike the cue ball.
A sharp crack echoes through the room as the white ball flies forward, slamming into the rack. A cascade of sharp clacks follows as the rest of the balls scatter across the table.
He straightens when you aim to elbow him, and your arm just awkwardly swings in the air.
“And there you have it, doll,” he casually continues. “A bit of practice and you’ll be beating all your pals at this. Pick either stripes or solids and knock them all in, then go for the 8-ball last. If you fuck up and get the 8-ball in before you get your colors, you automatically lose.”
“Uh, r-right… yeah, thanks,” you mutter, your voice catching as you take a step back. You hug the pool cue closer, resting its tip on the floor. Your shoulders draw inwards as he follows you and takes a step forward.
“Starting without us, huh?” one of your coworkers, a fresh-faced intern, remarks as he sidles up to you. He wears a Krampus-themed ugly Christmas sweater.
“Oh, no,” you answer, voice still a bit strained at your earlier discomfort. You quickly step around him to place him between you and Bucky. “I was just practicing.”
Your coworker instinctively turns with your movements to keep you in his view.
“Well,” he quips, none the wiser, “you should really go grab some food before it’s all gone. I swear, these people, it’s like they’ve never eaten anything in their entire lives, the way they’re inhaling those mozzarella sticks.”
“S-sure, Chase,” you stammer, glancing past him to where Bucky is already walking away, heading back to his group of equally muscular friends. A tall man with short blond hair crosses his massive arms and grins at Bucky, while another man with dark skin claps him on the shoulder and lets out a loud guffaw.
You turn and walk towards the food as your coworkers reset the pool table. You find that you've lost your appetite, but try to eat a little something anyway. After all, you had to pay $50 for this. Your bosses are so cheap; they couldn’t even cover the cost of this holiday event. Not only did you have to fork over the cash, but the whole thing was strongly implied to be mandatory. You couldn’t really decline unless you wanted to earn a reputation for lacking the holiday spirit and not being a team player. You’re also pretty sure it doesn’t really cost $50 per person, and that someone is pocketing the change.
You scowl as you crack open a can of soda and take a sip. You glance up to see Bucky staring at you, the corner of his lips turned into a smirk. You quickly snap your head back to the food and randomly fill your plate with a few items.
You sit alone at one of the booths, surrounded by your coworkers’ jackets and bags, and quietly eat your food as your coworkers begin to play. After you manage to chew on a few mozzarella sticks and a couple of buffalo wings, Chase comes over to drag you to a different pool table to start a new game with you.
“Come on,” Chase grins, “let’s see if your practice paid off.”
Your practice did not pay off. With Bucky’s pointers, you’re able to at least hit the balls, but none of them go into the pocket. Luckily, Chase isn’t faring any better. Unfortunately, that means the game is going nowhere, with the balls ricocheting in every direction, but not a single one is sinking.
A coworker from the other table lets out a loud whoop as the clack of a ball indicates a win. You glance over as the winner fist-bumps the air a few times, grunting with each bump, and ending his display with another loud whoop.
Chase sighs as he eyes the scattered balls on your table and steps next to you. He casually drapes an elbow over your shoulder closest to him and states, “Well. We suck.”
You snort and nod in agreement.
“How about we move on to foosball?” Chase suggests.
“Okay,” you answer, voice sounding a bit tired and irritated because you would much rather call it a day and go home, but no one else is leaving yet, so you can’t be the first to sneak out. You continue, “But, uh, let me use the bathroom first.”
“Sure,” Chase grins as he slips his arm off of you.
You walk away, following the sign pointing toward the restrooms, and step into a dim, unsettling hallway with two doors. Golden tinsel garland drapes in sagging U-shapes along the walls, shimmering faintly in the low light. With the crowd now far behind you, the Christmas music from the overhead speakers swells, suddenly louder and strangely hollow in the empty corridor. The last door on the right bears a worn plastic sign of a woman’s figure nailed to the wood. The sound of Darlene Love singing, “Tell me, I've gotta know, where do lonely hearts go? Because nobody oughta be all alone on Christmas…” echoes as you push the door open and step inside.
You squint at the chaotic scene as the door falls shut behind you, the lively music outside fading into a dull murmur. The walls are completely covered in graffiti with layer upon layer of scribbles, tags, and crude drawings. You're not sure if it’s supposed to be some kind of edgy aesthetic or just the result of customers with their pens and Sharpies. Either way, it looks like a mess, and you’re leaning towards the latter.
There are five stalls, and one is already occupied. You skip the next one, not wanting to sit right beside somebody, and head for the stall against the back wall. Gingerly pushing the door open with your index finger, you brace yourself for something gross. To your relief, the toilet is pretty clean, and there’s plenty of toilet paper.
You place a couple of layers of paper on the toilet seat, pull your pencil skirt up and panties down, and finally sit. You sigh as you “release,” your eyes lazily scanning the scribbles covering the walls.
“You still taste like regret,” one accuses from a corner.
“I can’t wash you off my hands,” whispers another, the words looping and rushed.
“You keep running, but you always end up here,” scrawls across the tile in jagged and uneven letters.
Your bored expression slowly shifts to concern as the scribbles start to grow increasingly unhinged and chaotic.
“You belong to me, even if I have to take it.”
“It’s not wrong if you liked it.”
“You’re so sexy when you’re afraid to leave.”
A chill snakes up your spine as your brows pinch. The corner of your lips turns downward before parting in horror, and your fingers tighten against the toilet paper in your hands.
“You said stop, I heard stay.”
“For a good time, scream no.”
BANG.
You suddenly gasp and jump when a door outside is shoved open with enough force to slam against the wall. You huff and quickly wipe as you hear your stall neighbor flush the toilet and step out. You stand, pull your panties up, adjust your skirt, and then flush. Just as you’re about to step out yourself, you hear your stall neighbor squawk indignantly, “Hey, this is the ladies’ room!”
You hear a male voice snarl, “Fuck off,” followed by a shrill shriek of the woman and the chaotic scrambling of footsteps as the door bursts open and then slammed shut with a violent crack. A muffled “oof!” echoes as the woman hits the opposite wall outside. You can hear him flip the lock.
Heart hammering, you fumble the stall lock back into place and retreat until your calves press against the toilet. Eyes wide, you freeze and stare at the door as the heavy thud of his boots begins to move across the tiles. He starts whistling a cheerful tune, a song that sounds like “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” You shift back instinctively, pressing yourself deeper into the stall until you’re wedged between the toilet and the wall.
The whistling stops. His footsteps pause right outside your door, and then you hear three soft knocks. You gulp, pressing yourself tighter into the corner, and praying that your silence convinces him the stall is empty.
No such luck. You catch a glimpse of metal, black and gold fingers curling over the top of the door, before he pushes against the hindrance and the lock gives with a sharp crack, splintering away from the wood like it’s nothing.
“Hiya, doll.” Bucky grins as the door swings open.
“Buck-” you stutter, “Bucky…you…you shouldn’t be in here…”
He tilts his head, lips pursed in mock consideration, then lets a slow smirk spread across his face.
“Nah… I think I’m right where I belong.”
He steps into the stall, crowding into your space. He kicks the door shut behind him, but it only bounces off the partition, hanging open a few inches. He grabs onto your upper arms and brusquely pulls you away from the wall. You crash against his chest, and he wraps you into a bear hug, crushing you against him.
The air gets squeezed out of your lungs as you wheeze, “Bucky, g-get off me…”
“You’re real cute, ya know that?” Bucky growls, flicking the pom-pom of your hat out of your face. “You in this tight little skirt with your tight little ass.”
He slaps one hand against your ass and grabs a fistful of the cheek.
You grunt as you feel his fingers dig into your flesh. You shove at his chest, but it does nothing to deter him.
“You just kept bending over and showing me the goods. Both the back,” he shakes your ass in his fist, “and the front.” He releases the cheek and then grabs onto the V-neck of your blouse, ripping it down and exposing your bra.
“Did you know you were flashing the entire room your tits when you leaned over?” he snarls. “I bet ya did. You just kept doing it in my direction, making sure I saw ya.”
“It wasn’t-”
“And then swinging your hips as you slowly made your way to the restroom. You wanted me to follow you.”
Bucky shoves his hand under your bra and squeezes one of your breasts. “You’re lookin’ for a good time, aren’t ya?” he snarls.
“No-!” you incredulously yell, but he claps a palm over your mouth and promptly cuts you off.
“Sure, you are,” Bucky confirms for you. “You can’t just go smiling so sweetly and batting your lashes at me and expect me not to do something about it. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
You try to speak, but the hand he holds over your mouth just sounds like gibberish.
“Ah, don’t worry, doll. I’ll give you that good time. I’ll give you everything you want.”
Bucky shoves you against the tiled wall and grinds his hips against yours. You can feel the hard length of him against your pelvis and you whimper against his hand. He pulls at the strap of your bra down until one of your tits falls out. He palms it, pushing it up towards his face as he leans down and takes your nipple into his hot mouth. You squeal and thrash, but he holds you so tightly that all you can do is barely wiggle in his arm.
He moans as he feels you struggle in vain, sucking at the nipple before flicking his tongue up and down at the hardened nub. You jump with every flick as you feel heat pool between your legs at his ministrations. He softly nips your nipple between his teeth and pulls until it slips from him. You squeak and murmur incoherently. He presses his palm harder against your mouth, jolting your head a little, and presses his lips against your ear.
“Shut up,” Bucky demands, his voice deep and unsettlingly calm. The puff of his breath against your ear causes you to tremble. He draws his free hand to your throat and wraps his fingers around your neck gently, but firmly, enough to prove a point but not enough to cut off your breathing.
“I’m gonna take my hand off of your mouth, and you’re not gonna make a sound,” he continues. “You’re gonna be as quiet as a cute little mouse. If you scream, I’ll strangle you until you pass out, you got it?”
After a brief hesitation, you nod.
“Good,” he says as he removes his hand.
You sniffle wetly, take a breath, and whine, “Bucky, I didn’t-”
He suddenly grabs you by your chin, squishing your cheeks until your lips purse.
“I thought I told you to shut up,” he snarls into your face.
“Sorry…” you whisper, tears welling in your eyes.
“Not,” he squeezes your cheeks slightly harder and shakes your head, lightly thumping it against the tile once, “a sound.”
You snap your mouth shut and nod.
He pulls at the cup of your bra until your other tit pops out. He purrs appreciatively as he cups a breast in each hand. The contrasting heat from one and the coldness of metal from the other is striking and you shiver. He circles the nipples with his thumbs, then pinches and rolls them between his fingers. You flinch and bite your lips. Your legs are shaking as they struggle to keep you standing. Your breathing gets heavier as you swallow thickly, clenching your teeth together to keep from making any noise. He leans forward to lick down your neck, and then gives each nipple wet, open-mouthed kisses.
You’re startled when Bucky suddenly pulls the Santa hat off your head and tosses it to the floor.
“Look,” he says, “it’s cute, but ridiculous. I don’t want that pom-pom bouncing around in my face.”
You press your lips together in a pout as you stare at the hat you crocheted yourself sitting on the dirty floor. Bucky snorts as he grabs your face and forces you to look back at him. He slams his lips against yours and tries to force his tongue into your mouth. He’s only able to lick at your teeth since you keep your jaw firmly clenched. He growls impatiently as he gives the side of your face a little tap. When you still wouldn’t relent, he grabs your chin and squeezes your cheeks until the pain causes you to part your lips. He moans as he slips his tongue in. You can taste a hint of beer and something chocolate peppermint from whatever he drank or ate. At least it’s not unpleasant. He brings his vibranium hand up to place around your neck. He didn’t press down onto your throat, but the warning was there nonetheless. Bite, and there will be consequences.
Bucky sucks your bottom lip and then pulls away. He wrenches you from the wall and turns you around so that you face away from him. He sits down on the toilet seat and pulls you back towards him by your hips. He shoves your pencil skirt up to your waist and roughly yanks your panties down, a small translucent line of your wetness stretches from your skin to the panties. When the fabric gets to your ankles, he pats the side of your ankle to get you to step out of them, and then he pockets your panties. He kicks at your feet until you step your legs further apart, and he purrs as he grabs an ass cheek in each of his hands and spreads them. You involuntarily clench as he inspects you and he chuckles. You gulp as you hear the soft clink of his belt, followed by the metallic zip of his fly and rustling denim
“Come on,” he ordered, pulling you further back with one hand as he strokes his hard cock with the other, smearing his precum over his length. He presses down on your thigh, making you lower yourself onto him, his tip poking at your entrance. There’s a little bit of resistance as he wiggles his cock around your hole. You gasp sharply when the resistance gives way, and his head breaches into you with a wet pop, then a soft squish as the rest of him follows. You bite your lips and scrunch your face as he pushes you all the way down, spearing yourself onto him, sitting fully on his lap. He wraps his arms under your still exposed tits and pulls your back to his chest.
Bucky peers over your shoulder and groans, “Look at you, all split open.”
You glance down and feel a mix of horror and disbelief. Your lower lips are forced wide open and stretched taut around him, the hood of your clit pulled apart by his size, and the little swollen pearl glistens on display.
“Never had a real man’s cock in you before, huh?” he growls into your ear as he gives you a shallow thrust. “Feels good, don’t it? Can feel you leaking onto my balls.”
You shake your head, and he lightly taps your exposed clit with the tip of his fingers, causing you to yelp. You press the back of your head against Bucky’s shoulder and arch when he begins to finger the hardened nub. You start writhing when his other hand plays with your nipples.
“Yeah, you like that,” Bucky states, matter-of-factly. He begins thrusting into you, slow, but hard; his skin claps against yours as the air gets punched out of your lungs with each impact.
Your head lolls on Bucky’s shoulder as you moan breathlessly. He wasn’t wrong when he said it felt good; he knows exactly what to do to set your blood on fire, but like hell you’re going to admit that with words.
He smoothes his hand up from your tit to your neck, and finally up to your mouth. He presses his palm firmly against your lips and you let out a confused sound. You quickly find out why when he lifts you up slightly, and then starts to callously jackhammer into you as he cruelly presses his finger against your clit, rubbing rough and fast circles that have your eyes almost popping out of your skull. You inhale a deep breath through your nose and let out a wail that is muffled against the cold vibranium. Your arms flail as you try to hold onto something, anything. You finally settle on grabbing the back of his neck with one of your hands, and the other grabs the wrist that’s keeping your mouth shut.
“Oh yeah, that’s it, doll,” Bucky grunts, “squeeze my cock.” He’s still looking down your shoulder to watch your tits bounce wildly and to watch his dick, shiny with your arousal, disappear into your sopping cunt.
“You’re tight to begin with,” Bucky continues, slightly out of breath, “but now you’re getting even tighter. You’re gonna come soon, aren’t ya?”
You shake your head as tears spring into your eyes.
“Yeah, you are,” Bucky hisses. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are.”
You shut your eyes as you shake your head again, trying desperately to gain control of your body, but to no avail. Your shrill cry gets stifled as he shoves his hand harder against your mouth, and you feel yourself get thrown over the edge. Your walls clamp down so hard on him that he struggles to keep his pace. He nuzzles into your neck as your legs give out, and you fall into his lap, your body trembling violently against him. He releases his hold over your mouth and you gasp, taking in some much-needed oxygen. He wraps both arms under your tits again as he easily lifts you up and down, using you like a cock sleeve to chase his own high. Your body is weak as you hyperventilate, Bucky forcing you to ride out the rest of your orgasm, with your arms swinging limply at your side.
You feel his cock start twitching inside of you, signaling the inevitable. You flinch and yelp as you feel the first splash of him coming inside. You immediately panic and press your hand against his knee, struggling to push yourself up and away from him. He grabs you by the shoulder and roughly shoves you back down, your cunt squelching loudly as he jams his release deeper inside you.
“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” Bucky snarls, his lips brushing against your ear and his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. “Stay the fuck on me.”
He wraps his vibranium hand around your neck, squeezing just enough to silence your protest. You gasp and wheeze as he continues plunging into you. You feel hot ropes of cum stream into you with each thrust and your face pinches into a cringe. With one last grunt, Bucky shoves you down onto his cock, impaling you as deep and as hard as possible. He finally stills, you can feel your comingled fluids leak around his shaft and pool into his lap.
Bucky releases his hand around your neck and wraps his arms over your breasts and around your stomach, pulling you tighter against his chest. You squirm and try again to dislodge his slowly softening and seeping cock out of you, but he wouldn’t allow it.
He nips your earlobe and you recoil. He chuckles, “That was good, doll. Think I’ll take you home for Christmas. You can scream as much as you want there.”
Author's Note: I only played pool a handful of times in my life (and I suck), I just googled what I could and then made up the rest, so if my knowledge of pool is wrong, it’s because I have no idea what I am talking about.
By the way, Chase is Chase Collins from "The Covenant," making a little cameo in this fic!
Thanks so much for reading! I would appreciate some reblogs and comments!
Summary: The sea had been Bucky’s and Steve’s life, both content to swim from ocean to ocean, side by side. A part of them always felt as if they were missing something, but neither could tell what. One night they come across a woman, and it’s as if their pieces fell into place. Only she comes with her own baggage and past horrors. Neither Bucky or Steve are willing to live their life without her, but first, they have to figure out how to help her with her own.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty- Four
Chapter Twenty- Five
Chapter Twenty- Six
Chapter Twenty- Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty- Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty- Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty- Five
Chapter Thirty- Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Epilogue
Tag list for this are closed.
Fanart:
Moodboard by @myjoonifiedheart (Whom I can’t tag)
Moodboards and Headers and more by @prettybubblesintheair
Run-through: Your wealthy family marries you off to a family friend’s son – famous businessman Sebastian. You two have known each other for a long time, so none of you oppose your families’ decisions. Life as Sebastian’s wife is pure bliss, he’s everything a woman could ever want. Until a certain secret of his resurfaces, and once it does – nothing in your lives is ever the same again.
Themes throughout the series: ceo!seb, fluff, smut, mob!bucky
You’re the black sheep of your friend circle. Always getting “late” invitations to events or even none at all. The “leader” of the group is having a huge gathering and to your surprise she’s invited you.
For the longest she’s talked about her husband but she never put a face to the name. She’s even more excited that he’s decided to humor her and attend tonight’s festivities.
It’s only then that when you do see the man so well spoken of that you feel the attention on you more than ever. But not just from other party goers.
But from him…
Ohhh.
Oh.
I got just the thing.
I... am sorry in advance.
Thanks For The Invite
Word Count: 3K
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, non-con oral (f receiving) to dub-con, mentions of future sex, cheating, mentions of divorce, toxic friendships, drugging.
Summary | Despite thinking that you're always an after thought, it turns out that someone has been thinking about you all along.
“I mean you’re welcome to come. Right Alexis?” Danielle looks over at her friend to wait for her answer.
It’s always the last minute invitations that make you feel like a burden for accepting and a flake if you decline. This awkwardness is only fueled more when you finally nod, Alexis’ tongue running over her brand new veneers.
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to be able to make it because I know you’re in between jobs and job hunting is probably so stressful,” Alexis sympathizes with a slow, understanding nod that you don’t return. “I wish I could help. But you’ve got savings, right? God, I can’t believe that company went under. Lloyd told me they would months ago and I didn’t believe him. Guess he’s always right. Anyway, Grant’s on 5th tomorrow for my birthday. Don’t be late.”
She gives you an embrace that can’t be defined as a hug, her arms looping over your shoulders that ends as quickly as it starts, still smelling the heavy scent of her perfume before she spins around and heads toward her waiting car with Danielle.
Thick as thieves like always, trying to ignore the irritating thought that they might be talking about you on their way back to her place.
You tell yourself that you’re lucky to be invited this time. The past three events she’s put on, you were an onlooker, scrolling through her Instagram photos with your supposed circle of friends, all laughing and having a good time as you sat alone in your apartment.
You know better than to comment, last time jokingly replying ‘Thanks for the invite’ before it was deleted and a heated text message disguised as an apology came your way, reminding you that there was a limit to who she invited and that her husband’s cousins had flown into town and of course you could understand why she had to put them as a priority over you.
And it took every bit of you to not point out that three of the people she invited that had been in the photo had barely known her for a week that were not his relatives.
It’s hard for you to make friends. Introverted enough to not want to step out of your comfort zone, you thought you’d found the right people to be yourself around until your co-worker, Lauren, once pointed out that your friends were toxic. You’d hurried to deny the observations, Lauren meekly reminding you that they’d hopped on a plane to Vegas for a girl’s trip and hadn’t invited you until three hours before they had left, making you pay for your own drinks at your birthday dinner and then leaving you out of a Christmas card, saying they would photoshop you in when you pointed it out.
“You can do better,” Lauren insisted with a sad shake of her head. “Make some new friends.”
-
No one waves you over when they see you, only one of them giving you a polite smile, the rest continuing on in conversation while you squeeze into an uncomfortable space between two of the ones who move their bags off of your seat before you sit.
“You made it,” Alexis says with a hint of surprise. “I thought you’d flake.”
“She can’t flake if you don’t invite her places,” another one of your friends quips.
They break out into laughter, something that you don’t return, save for a sheepish smile. It’s almost always at your expense, these “jokes” that they tend to crack in your presence. Two more arrive and Alexis clears her throat, tossing her long hair over her shoulder.
“Ladies, I have an announcement.”
All heads turn toward her as she preens at the sight of them. Always a lover of the lime light and tonight is no exception.
“As you know, I always hold my annual all black party and this year is no exception. But,” Alexis pauses for dramatic effect, her teeth running over her lower lip in anticipation. “My husband is going to be there. You know as well as I do that he hates my parties but I managed to beg him so nicely that he said he’d be there. So that means everyone needs to be on their best behavior and I want couture gowns. Not Macy’s. Got it?”
Everyone nods, some already calculating how much they will be going into debt for this party. It’s a huge event that gets covered by Vanity Fair, thanks in part to Alexis’ mother, a socialite with old money who keeps up her connections and feeds your friends’ obsession with these sort of parties.
You’ve never seen Alexis this excited before, her eyes sparkling at the mention of her husband. Ironically, you had been a guest at her wedding and not a bridesmaid, showing up late to the reception due to a ‘last minute invitation’ that had somehow gotten lost in the mail. She’d apologized profusely, giving you a gift card to Nordstroms to make up for the miss that she had claimed had been the wedding planner’s fault. Your seat was in the back, far away from the bride and groom, stuck with the bride’s extended-extended family who sympathized with you as you looked on at the festivities with them.
“Don’t worry about Alexis,” her great-aunt had quipped, rolling her eyes as Alexis had walked past the table, not giving any of them a glance as her second-cousin gave her the finger behind her back. “She’s always been a huge bitch.”
Still, she was never shy about talking about her husband.
Not just talking.
Gushing.
Lloyd Hansen apparently created the sun and moon according to her, mentioning how well traveled he was, how his job was so demanding. You’ve actually never seen him before, missing him completely before they had left for their honeymoon and on social media, Lloyd didn’t exist anywhere.
“Too dangerous,” Alexis had told the group once. “He doesn’t even let me upload pictures of him.”
You’re curious to see him up close if you get the chance, this enigma of a human being that captivates the group as Alexis eyes you with a smile.
You don’t want to think about the price tag of your outfit. Mentally, you’re already adding up the cost and how you’ll have to pay off your credit in huge chunks.
The black shimmery dress goes from covered to sheer, heading up the steps of the palatial house as the door is opened for you, a flute of champagne placed into your hand. The music is soft and sensual, the soft lights guiding you outside toward the garden.
Alexis is deep in conversation with your other friends, her black slinky dress enough for you to envy her body and how she can pull off just about anything. The chatter slows to a hush, Alexis turning around at the sight of you, her mouth slightly parted open in surprise.
“Oh,” she says, her eyes looking you up and down. “I didn’t think you’d make it. That dress is amazing.”
She sounds genuinely surprised, almost as if she didn’t think that you could pull off such a feat. It isn’t a compliment, not by the way she says it.
“I’m glad you could all understand the assignment,” Alexis continues. “Have fun at the party but don’t be messy. I won’t have any of you embarrassing me. No drunken rants, no making out with my husband’s friends. Keep it professional.”
Heads nod in unison before she links her arm with Danielle and they walk away, leaving the rest of you to stand idly and awkwardly, making small talk after being given a stern warning.
“This is the last time I come to one of these parties,” Helena quips, adjusting the strap on her dress. “We pay thousands for these dresses and then we never wear them again. She makes it seem like she’s doing us a favor by inviting us. We’re her friends.”
“Just try to make the best of it,” another friend argues. “It sucks but at least we get to go.”
Breadcrumbs like always, something Alexis excels in when it comes to keeping friendships stable. Give enough of them and eventually, they eat out of her hand. It isn’t worth listening to them squabble, especially since she’s still within earshot. It’s enough for you to keep walking through the garden and down to the fountain to give yourself some breathing room.
People are on the dance floor, music thumping while you continue your walk of the fountain, the angels carved from stone that pour their vases of water back into the fountain.
“Most of Alexis’ friends like to dance. Get a little drunk, a little handsy with the rest of the partygoers. Unusual for you to be looking at a stale, old fountain,” a voice says behind you.
The man behind you is wearing a tuxedo, sans bowtie as he tilts his beer at the fountain. You already know who he is, the wedding ring catching your eye while he narrows his eyes at the angels, taking a step forward. He exudes raw power, the way he gives you no personal space as he stands next to you.
“She liked it,” he says with a smirk. “But I think it’s fucking ugly. Lloyd Hansen,” he introduces, extending his hand to you as he turns slightly. “Might I say it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
His grip on your hand is strong, lingering enough to get your attention before he lets go and you introduce yourself quickly, his gaze on you as if he’s looking at what part of you he wants to devour first.
“Love the dress,” he compliments, his eyes going down to the thigh slit. “Can’t say the same for the rest of these guests.”
“Thank you,” you answer him meekly, eyes back onto the fountain.
The last thing you need is Alexis thinking that you’re flirting with her husband. She’s enamored with him and you can see why. He’s slick with his compliments, his voice deep when he mentioned he loved your dress, pausing before he finished his statement.
As he was letting you fill in the blanks.
“It’s a nice party,” you continue, racking your brain to think of something to say to clear the awkward silence that you know is mostly on your part and not his.
“Boring,” Lloyd muses. “She likes to spend my money. Though I can’t say I don’t blame her. I imagine it’s lonely when I’m away. Have to show the people that you married well. That you’re still connected. Interesting that you’re here, though.”
“Oh? Why is that?” You hate asking the question but there’s something about him, the way he hints at something that you feel you should already know.
“I’ve met all her friends. Ones she’s known for years, ones she’s known for five minutes. I call those gravel,” Lloyd says with a smirk. “They’re fun to walk on until they get into her shoe and then she disposes them. Never last long, just enough for her to get her god complex and then they’re finished. I’ve seen them come and go. You’re the first that she’s deliberately hidden.”
“I don’t think so,” you disagree gently, taking a long sip of your champagne. “I work a lot and so our schedules don’t match up. She wouldn’t… hide me.”
“Do you always make excuses when people leave you out? Every man at this party has had his eyes on you at least once since you came in. My wife isn’t stupid and you’d be insulting her intelligence and cruelty if you believed it was an accident. She doesn’t like you. I don’t like her either.”
Swallowing hard, you nod, lifting your head as the comment sears your emotions. Tears burn at your eyes and you force yourself to repeat the mantra that you won’t cry, finishing your champagne before you nod once more. It tastes bitter at the end, making you wince at it before you shake your head.
“I should go.”
“I didn’t say you needed to go. That’s going to give her the satisfaction that she’s won,” Lloyd reminds you, standing behind you as he leans forward, his warm breath ghosting against your ear. “You know why she doesn’t like you?”
You don’t move, Lloyd plucking the glass from your hand.
“Why?”
“Because I do,” he answers you, moving away from you when you whirl around.
“You don’t know me.”
“Oh, sugarplum, I do. I do know you,” Lloyd responds. “You didn’t think I was curious as to why she mentions you but I never see you? In my line of work, I know how to access things about people. It wasn’t hard. She gave me a little warning.”
He chuckles at the reminder of it, blowing out a breath through clenched teeth.
“Someone forgot her place.” Lloyd smiles brightly, his hand on the small of your back as he guides you away from the fountain. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ve let her play with her own leash long enough, let her think she was guiding this marriage. I always get what I want.”
Lloyd smiles right in Danielle’s face as she passes, her eyes narrowing at you as you stop in your tracks, Lloyd still pressing his fingers into your spine to silently urge you to keep moving. Your eyes feel heavy, footsteps slightly dragging as he hums to himself.
“Down to the right,” Lloyd directs smoothly, leaving no room for argument.
You could yell.
You could scream.
But the way Danielle looks at you, right in your face as her lip curls slightly, tells you all you need to know.
Your reputation is over.
No more friendships, no more last minute add on pity invites. You could almost see the wheels turning in her head, her pace quickening to get back to Alexis when Lloyd anchors you against him, his arm like a vice that you can’t get out of.
“What are you so worried about?” he asks against your neck. “Me or her?”
“No,” you answer him, finally finding your voice. “I’m going home. I’m done.”
“Oh, that’s cute,” Lloyd tsks, his hand clamping down over your mouth before you can say another word. “You think you actually get a choice. I like girls like you. The ones who crave that sisterhood that they themselves know that they are much better off without. We can leave the party, sugarplum. But you’re not leaving me.”
-
Alexis slams on the basement door, her fists pounding like a madwoman.
“I know you’re in there with her!” she screams, her voice so shrill that it sounds inhuman. “Come out Lloyd!”
When she tries the door again, it opens, flinging it wide as she scrambles down the steps quickly to the dimly lit workspace.
Lloyd lifts his head from between your thighs, slick glistening on his mustache as he licks his fingers obscenely, your hands bound above your head, tied to the table as your eyes are closed, your black lace panties discarded on the floor along with his jacket, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms as he caresses your thighs, Alexis stopping in her tracks as her eyes are wide.
“You know the door is always open,” Lloyd reminds her, kissing your inner thigh as you moan softly. “I gotta tell you, Alexis. She tastes so sweet. I can’t get enough.”
He dips his head back down, laving his tongue against your clit before he sucks it hard, your back arching as he laughs. You’re so far gone that you can barely keep your eyes open, whispering his name as he lifts his head up to stare at Alexis, who stomps her foot.
“How could you do this to me!”
“How could you keep her from me?”
“She’s nothing,” Alexis hisses. “Insignificant.”
He pushes back his chair, leaning over to slap your clit with his fingers as your pained cry breaks through your chapped lips before he makes his way over to Alexis, his thumb pulling down on her lip before he makes her taste you, his thumb rubbing against her tongue.
“Sweet, isn’t it? You like playing games, sweetheart. It’s a shame you’re no good at them. I know about the pool boy, the delivery man, your personal trainer. I go for quality, not quantity,” Lloyd reminds her, tapping her cheek with his wet fingers. “You’re keeping me from my meal.”
Alexis huffs, glaring at you while you try to pull against the restraints, Lloyd looking back at you with a smile on his face.
“She’s feisty,” Lloyd tells Alexis. “But no match for my mouth or hands. Right, sugarplum?”
He turns Alexis around, patting her on the ass as he pushes her up toward the stairs. She’s furious beyond belief but he knows her carefully crafted persona won’t break. Not when she knows he has evidence and judging by the way she stares, she’s aware that he has either video or audio proof of her many affairs.
And he’s not going to explain how they all went missing.
“Go enjoy the party. It’s the last one you’re ever going to have. I’ll have my lawyers draft up the papers. You can keep the house. I hate it anyway. Close the door on your way out. I’ll lock it. I’ve got unfinished business to attend to. My future awaits.”
She runs up the stairs, cursing his name as the door slams shut, Lloyd heading behind her as he locks the door, smoothing back his hair before he heads back down.
Unbuttoning the button on his pants and pulling down the zipper, he leans between your legs, tapping your cheek as your eyes flutter open.
“You can’t just let anyone hand you a drink,” Lloyd says, his fingers slipping back inside you as you whimper. “God, I love that sound. Let’s see how much you can take, hmm?”
Summary: You’re content with your quiet, peaceful life, but it suddenly becomes dangrously intense when an alpha, Steve Rogers, forces himself into it. You never believed nor seeked out the old fairytales of true mates, but Steve will make you admit there’s a grain of truth in every fairytale.
summary. | He’s in the wind, and you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.
warnings. | non/dubcon, smut, angst, protectiveness, kidnapping (implied), stockholm syndrome, obsessiveness, death/violence, dark themes, DDLG undertones, creampie kink, choking, piss kink (both pee), degradation, pet play undertones, p in v sex, Master kink, dacryphilia, crawling, slapping, hair pulling, face fucking, boot riding, orgasm denial, spitting, gagging, manhandling, praise, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI.
word count. | 8.5k
pairings. | Dark!Winter Soldier x Naive!Reader.
a/n. | please heed the warnings! i hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. they’re both very hydrated! this takes place in the 90’s! thank you so much @asadmarveltrashbag and @mypoisonedvine for proof reading for me ilysm!!
From the day you were born, you always felt as though your legs are broken. Always needing crutches throughout your life to hold you up, always needing support. But you never really had these crutches, so you'd always drag your hands against the brick walls to support yourself. Vulnerable, breaking away at the edges, falling down. Nothing kind ever came, and it stays the same for a while.
So maybe that’s why you lean into his icy cold touch. So abrasive and yet so caring. His aspects are juxtaposed to each other, just like in those Magritte paintings your art teacher would show you. She was always a kind lady, but you don’t care enough about her to wonder where she is in life now. She was kind to you, though, so you hope that she isn’t suffering like you are.
Your goosebumps raise for the fifth time in this painfully slow hour.
“Are you cold, кролик?” he asks even though he knows the answer. You hum. You always do. Your voice doesn’t raise in an affirmation. It stays flat; he knows what that means. “Thinking again?” he gruffly presses, squeezes your bare arms. The thin, grey shirt with torn sleeves does nothing to protect your body. But why do you ask for protection against the man who has done everything for you?
“Why… Why do people believe that grey is a boring colour?” you ask him, looking around the dark cell that surrounds you. Soldat grunts, not knowing what to say. “I think it’s quite beautiful. All colours have different shades, yes, but there’s something about grey. Each shade comes with a different emotion. Don’t you think so?” you ask him, looking down to your lap.
A carrot toy sits there. It’s filled with cotton balls from the medical room, by his request. “Yes…” He bites the tip of his tongue, not sure what to say because the Soldat only has a few emotions and a few words. “Why can’t we get a different wall colour?” you question him, turning around to face the man.
“It’s not allowed,” he reminds you. You feel like you’re experiencing déjà-vu, but then again, the days have blurred together so well that you can’t tell if the tape is being put on rewind already. You have to assume that your celluloid scenes are fading away along with your sanity. It’s torn at the seams. Threads hanging that just need to be ripped or cut out.
“Beige would look lovely…” you point out solemnly. The Soldat doesn’t know what shade of beige you’re thinking of, but he believes it would be beautiful nonetheless. “I… have a mission,” he tells you after a while. You hum in that same monotonous tone again, so he squeezes your arm even tighter. “When, Master?” you curiously ask, only now taking in his words.
“Tonight. Approximately at twenty-one hours,” he informs you in that mechanic voice of his that you hate. It makes you feel more trapped and vulnerable, even though there’s quite literally a chip in the back of your neck. “How long?” you ask him softly, a frown already beginning to display itself on your face.
He doesn’t like it when you frown. He prefers the lines that your smile provides over the lines your frown forces. That innocent glint in your eyes shines a bit, flickering like a dull light on the verge of completely blowing. Though it’s not much, it’s still something. And when it goes away, his entire being is filled with darkness.
You’re the light of his life, the fire of his loins.
“Not sure. Extraction of information. Senators and mayors…” He begins to ramble, and you shake your head. “Sorry, кролик,” he apologizes as he notices how uncomfortable you’re starting to get. You hum again. He wonders if you were a bird in your past life, perhaps a hummingbird, to be more exact. Or maybe even a swan or a dove because you’re just as beautiful as they are, if not more.
“You know how to behave, right? Потому что ты мой хороший маленький кролик?” he asks, and you don’t understand the second question, but you understand the former. “I know, Master,” you breathe, an airy ending to your words. “You’ll be good, кролик?” he questions one more time, and you lazily nod. You’re tired. Your body moves at a drowsy pace, and you don’t like it.
You don’t want to sleep, though. Scared that if you shut your eyes for too long, the monsters will come back, and Soldat won’t be able to save you. He always saves you. You’re his damsel, constantly in distress, locked away in a gilded cage. But he tells you it’s not a gilded cage. It’s not a run-down cell built in the fifties. It’s your home, even though you haven’t known what home is like for a while.
“I’ll always be good for you, Master. Please don’t leave for long. I get lonely easily,” you express in small bits of sadness and distress. “I know, кролик, я знаю,” Soldat says as he hugs you closer. You tilt your head backwards and let it lull on his shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he promises, and you know it’s not true because he never fulfills it. “But my carrot can’t keep me company for all those hours… Please stay? Please?” you plead with tears welling in your eyes.
“Я могу составить ей хорошую компанию,” the soldier standing outside the cell mutters under his breath, earning a few snickers from his coworkers. I can keep her in good company, is what he said. And it’s truly unfortunate that the guards have forgotten that the Soldat — the Asset — has super-hearing. Their laughter dies down into sighs, and Winter’s chest begins to heave.
He puffs up like the big bad wolf he is, and he tosses you to the side like a rag doll. You watch him as he strides his way over to the guards. Each step carries the weight of the Winter Soldier, the one who’s ready to kill whoever is in his sight. Except for you. His bionic hand reaches through the metal bars that separate him from the outside world.
He wraps his fingers around the guard’s neck, and he squeezes his throat tightly. As Winter crushes the guard’s windpipe, you watch him behind slightly squinted eyelids. Tears blur your eyesight, and you remember that time when you were holding off the tears so well, you couldn't see the HYDRA van driving ahead of you.
Maybe if you could control your emotions a little better, you wouldn’t be here.
But then again, where would you be without the Soldat? Miserable, stuck in the worst parts of town without anyone. Having to drag your hands across those brick walls, again and again. Surviving on your own, teetering on the edge of death. Just like these men at the hands of the Soldat.
The crunching of bones and the screams of men are all blocked out for you. You focus on Soldat’s arm whirring in the most satisfying harmony you’ve heard in the past two years. Other than the orchestra you both have managed to make almost every day. But you still cup your hands over your ears.
Winter pulls a knife from the guard’s limp body. That very same knife ends up inside his heart, stopping it from pumping. The guards begin shooting at Winter, but he easily shields himself with the metal arm. It goes silent, but you keep your hands over your ears. Muffled talking steps in place of the silence, and you look up to see members of HYDRA staring at your Winter and you.
“Солдат, Что ты натворил?” One of the head agents asks. You believe his name is Vasily Karpov because that is what Winter has told you. “The… The guard said something about my кролик. He’s not supposed to,” Winter explains, looking to the ground. Karpov mutters a chain of curse words under his breath that you’re not too happy about. One of the other agents asks him to speak up, and he snaps.
“Just get him to the armoury! We need to prep him,” he shouts before stalking away from the scene. They all stick around a few more seconds before scurrying off like little mice. The dead bodies still lay on the floor, but nobody seems to really care. What’s happened has happened, and there’s no changing it.
“Привести с собой солдата!” A rough voice blasts through the intercoms, and suddenly, more guards show up at your cell. You curl up into a ball and rest your forehead against your knees. You can’t bear to watch them take him away. You wait until the cell door swings shut, and then men stomp away. But even then, you cannot look up.
Bring the Soldat.
He wears that mask of his. The last time you saw it, it was caked with dirt and blood. You can hear his hard breathing behind it, almost sounding as though he’s just run a marathon. He sits in the edge of the cot — the left corner, to be exact — and he watches you. The Soldat states as you look down at the array of snacks he’s provided you with.
“Kролик,” Winter gruffly calls, and you turn around. You hum and your voice raises at the end. You haven’t done that in a while, so it startles him a bit. “Which one?” he asks, stretching his neck out just a bit to see what snack you’ve chosen. “N… Not sure,” you shyly whisper, ducking your head down in fear.
“Green one,” he says after a while, and you place your hand on it. “I don’t know what it is?” you confusingly say. The Russian text on it confuses you, so you hand it to Winter. “ Sour Patch Kids…” Winter reads out loud, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. “Oh, I like those!” you eagerly cheer, sitting up on your knees. You turn around and reach your hand out for him to give them to you.
They’ve wiped him. You know it, and you hate it. They’ve taken all emotion away from him, and now he’s just an empty shell of a man. His softness from just a few hours ago has now gone away, and you don’t know what to expect of himself. But then again, you never do.
Hesitatingly, he hands it over. “Don’t eat now. Sugar will keep you up,” he warns, and you nod. Your father would say the same thing when you were younger. The only difference is that your father had more love in his voice than Winter ever will. “We need to go over the rules,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You hum again, and he continues. “Do you remember your rules?” Winter asks, and you hum once more.
“Кролик,” he growls, and you look up. “Do you need me to repeat the rules?” Winter questions and you shake your head in objection. He doesn’t listen, though, because he knows you don’t remember them. You never seem to remember the big, important parts of the puzzle. Only the small corner pieces that don’t really matter. “I’ll tell you them anyway, and you’re going to listen to every word I say. Understood, кролик?” he raises his eyebrow, not leaving any room for protesting.
You gulp thickly and nod. “Don’t make any noises, don’t touch yourself, don’t talk to the guards, don’t let anyone touch you, don’t hurt yourself and don’t even think of escaping,” he lists, and the last one makes tears sting your eyes. “I won’t escape. ‘S not like I can even do anything in here,” you whisper under your breath, and he stands up. Metal fingers grip your chin tightly, and Winter slowly kneels down in front of you.
You’re watched like a pet. You always have been. Not even a pet, more like a possession. Seen as an object with no feelings and no emotions. As though you don’t have a heart that pumps crimson blood and lungs that expand with each breath you take. “Don’t ever speak like that again. I can easily stitch those pretty lips of yours shut, кролик,” he threatens, and you feel your tears beginning to leak.
No, no, no, no, no. Not now.
He laughs. He fucking laughs, and you want to cry even more because you need him. You need your support, but he doesn’t want to give it to you. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. “You’re so fucking… precious. Especially when you shed those tears of yours,” he tells you with a hidden smile behind his mask. He squeezes your jaw even tighter, and you whimper out a small ‘thank you, Master’ to him.
“I wasn’t finished listing the rules, so keep your fly shut,” Winter sneers, and you nod your head slowly. “When I get back, which will be in around three hours, you have to finish drinking all those bottles of water,” he stays, snapping his fingers to grab your attention. Your eyes follow those very same fingers as they point at the four bottles of water sitting by the bed.
You never noticed them until just now. “Oh, and you can’t go to the bathroom until I say so,” he adds with a slight humorous chuckle to his voice. Your eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets. “Don’t worry, кролик, I’ll be back so quickly, it’ll feel like a few minutes,” he promises, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. It reminds you of when you were young, and your parents would take you to the beach.
Your parents would build sandcastles with you until they got tired. You would beg your father to piggyback you into the sea, and he would do exactly that. Your mother would carry her disposable camera with her just to take photos that would end up in the green photo album from the thrift store.
And when you got a bit older, you’d go by yourself—older in the sense that you have to start paying the bus fare of $3. You’d head to the beach after dinner and before your parents came home from work. The sky would either be a dark, dark grey or a lovely mix of pastels. The water would wash beneath your feet, pulling and loosening clumps of sand.
Taking it away the same manner Winter took your innocence.
“And remember, if you break any of these rules, I’ll know. And the outcome won’t be as pretty as your face or that pussy of yours, кролик,” Soldat warns, and you nod your head. “Yes, Master,” you shyly say to him. You want to look down at the concrete flooring so badly, but his iron-clad grip on you doesn’t loosen until a minute after your words. He looks down at you, and you look away. His strong gaze is just as powerful as the summer sun that would beat down on your skin.
“Прощай, кролик.”
You never realized how thirsty you were until just now. You’ve finished all four bottles in the span of two hours, and now you’re counting down the minutes until Soldat arrives. There are no guards standing outside your cell, so you’re all alone. Not even your intrusive thoughts have visited, and you wonder if the water was spiked.
You were never that good at telling time. It would always take you a few seconds to find the minute hand and the hour hand. But the digital clock that is on the wall across from your cell is quite helpful. It even has seconds on it, too. So you count down out loud, trying to ignore the full feeling in your stomach.
Stomping echoes down the hallways, and you don’t know if he’s close by or meters away from you. You never could tell. Russian words fall off the agents’ tongues, and sometimes you wish you could understand them. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like such an outsider even though you’re trapped in their home. “Ты свободен, солдат,” one of the agents say, and you can hear Winter grunt.
You’re free to go, Soldat.
His big, heavy feet stomp down the hallway. The sounds bounce off the greyish-green walls, stained with different things such as blood and dirt. You can hear his metal arm whirring, and your heart jumps with fear. You’re not scared of him; you’re scared of what he’s capable of.
Oh, who are you kidding? You’re terrified of him.
The guards open up the cell door, and you look up, locking eyes with his. They’re dark and empty as they usually are. “Кролик,” he growls, and you whimper. You run up to him and hug him, feeling the water slosh inside of you. You slow your breathing down the same way your elementary school nurse told you to when you were younger and try your hardest not to throw up.
“Missed me, hm?” Winter questions and you nod meekly. Though you didn’t want to admit it two years ago, you do now. “Missed you lots, Master,” you tell him. The leather is cold against your warm skin. If you focus just a bit more, you could feel the creases of the fabric as well. But you’re too busy with him, so you ignore it. “W- Was the mission good, Master?” you nervously ask him, only out of curiosity and nothing more.
“As always. Were you good, кролик?” Soldat questions in return, rightfully so. You nod eagerly and fiddle with your fingers behind his back. He acts like he can’t feel it, just for you not to stop hugging him. “Good girl… You seem like you want something. Out with it,” he orders, and you gulp in fear.
“I… I was wondering if I could go to the bathroom,” you meekly tell Winter, looking down to the ground. His boots are shiny and polished. Cleaner than anything you’ve seen before, and it’s confusing. He usually comes in covered with dirt, sweat, tears and blood. “You need to go to the bathroom, кролик?” he asks as if he didn’t hear you beforehand.
You shyly nod and unwrap your arms from around his broad torso. You wonder if he left the mission unscathed or not. Winter chuckles. It’s breathy, airy, sly and dark. “Aw, кролик, you’re adorable, the cutest кролик of them all. It’s too bad I’m not going to let you,” he sneers in that faux fantasy tone of his. You furrow your eyebrows and so desperately want to beg him, but it’s out of line, and he never asked, so you stay quiet.
Winter grabs your hand and drags you to the cot, reminding you of the way you’d pull your parents to the shore so they can play in the water with you. They’d both laugh before your father would tackle you in the water, and your mother would push him down in retaliation. You’d always resubmerge from the water with a smile on your face and laughter bellowing throughout the beach.
You miss those times.
You let him guide you to the bed you wish wasn’t yours. “What did you do while I was gone, кролик?” Soldat questions, sitting down on the canvas of the bed. You’re placed on his lap, almost as though he’s forcing you to reclaim a throne you need. And it’s true; you need him. His hands fall to your waist, and Winter holds you in place. “I drank all the water as you asked, and I just sat here, Master,” you recount to him, leaving out the parts of the past three hours he doesn’t need to know.
He hums in the same manner as you. “That’s all?” he questions, and you slowly nod your head. “Good, I’d hate to have to punish you this late in the night,” he says, pinching the skin on your torso. You don’t whimper because you’re used to it. He calls it affection, and so do you. Winter’s hands move from your sides to the front of your stomach, caressing you with a bit of pressure being put on your bladder.
You whimper and try to play it off with a cough, but you know deep down he doesn’t buy it. Soldat continues to run his hand against your stomach the same way you’d run across the shore. Slow, wary, yet with care from the ground beneath you. You like to think of the simpler, more happier times. You know if Winter pushes a little harder, you may not be able to control yourself any longer.
The pressure in your bladder grows every few seconds, so you squirm around in his lap. Your weight shifts from his left thigh to his right thigh, over and over, and he knows exactly what’s wrong. “Кролик… Are you feeling all tingly?” he asks you. You nod your head, but you take in his words. Meanings and implications are always lost with you. They fly over your head the same way birds do, and you only see them with someone's direction.
“N- No, Master, I just have to pee really badly…” you clarify to him, and he nods his head in understanding. You smile as a spark of hope lights inside of your heart. “I don’t think you do, кролик, I already told you,” he assures, and you sigh. “I- I know, Master, I’m sorry,” you apologize and drop your head down. “I think you’re having those tingles, кролик, is your little cunt wet?” Soldat questions even though you don’t have to answer.
His hand travels between your legs and to your pussy, cupping it tightly. You whimper and involuntarily grind against his hand. “You’re absolutely soaked, кролик! Were you thinking of me?” he interrogates, and you just go with it. “Y- Yes, Master, was thinking of you all the time,” you whisper to him. He squeezes your cunt tighter and purrs in your ear. “Then why didn’t you tell me beforehand, кролик?” Winter presses, and you feel fear pump through your veins.
“I- I knew you were tired from the mission, so I didn’t want to bother you, Master. I’m sorry, please forgive me!” you plead, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. Your heart sinks to your stomach with each sound he makes, and you want death to take you right here, right now. The Soldat pushes you to the ground, and you fall with a loud ‘thud!’. Your knees hit the concrete hard, and you can feel your old scars open up a bit.
One was from a poor fall at the beach. Your father carried you home, and your mother tried to soothe you. You were only six at the time, but it felt like your world was ending.
Winter’s metal hand grabs your hair and tugs on your locks painfully. You bite back a pained moan as he yanks your head back. It’s not the first time he has nearly given you whiplash. He changes moods faster than anyone you’ve ever met. The Soldat walks around you, and you follow him with your eyes. “It’s okay, кролик. I’m not mad at you. I’m gonna treat you so well; you’re gonna love me even more,” he promises with a dark glint in his eyes.
He wedges his boot between your legs and underneath your cunt. “Get comfy, шлюха,” he orders. You shift yourself a bit, trying to alleviate any aches you feel, but it seems as though he wants you to be uncomfortable. Your pussy rests on his foot, and you wonder what he’s up to. His hand tilts your head to look up at him. You want to look away, just like when you’d look at the bright sun on a hot summer day. It was always too much to look at, but the sight was so captivating you couldn’t turn away.
“You said you wanted to go pee, right, маленькая потаскушка?” he questions, and you confusingly nod. “Then go ahead, do it,” he orders. You gasp, quite loudly, in fact. The reaction doesn’t please your Master, so he yanks on your hair a little tighter. “What’s wrong, сука? I thought that’s what you needed?” he interrogates, and you nod. “Yes, Master, but not like this,” you reason, and he growls. “I give you protection, I give you food, I give you my cum, I give you everything you need. What’s wrong now? Don’t you love me?” Winter asks.
Your heart quite literally breaks in two.
“I do, Master! I love you so much!” you promise, feeling those stupid tears of yours starting to well up. “Then why aren’t you listening to me, you dumb baby? Hm?” he presses, and panic begins to rise in your chest. The tears stream down your face the same way the waves would engulf you at the age of 7. “It’s just uncomfortable, Master, that’s all…” you reason with him. “Well, I don’t care. You’re gonna do it anyway, okay? I thought you were a good bunny for me…” Winter trails off as if he’s lost all hope and cause.
It makes you want to cry even harder.
Sniffling, you wipe your tears and try not to give up. “I am your good bunny, Master. Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to!” you beg once again, and he grows weary of your patheticness. Winter bends down, and his flesh hand goes to the front of your flimsy shirt. Thin cotton rips away easily, with barely any strength coming from his behalf. The grey cloth is in two pieces, and he pushes them off your shoulders.
Your nipples harden as soon as the cool air brushes against them. Winter’s hand leaves your head, and you feel alone without his touch. “Seems like you forgot your place, кролик… You don’t get what you want; you get what you deserve. And what you deserve is to be put in your place,” he tells you, and your bones rattle with fear. The sound of a belt clinking and a zipping being pulled down grabs your attention, and you hold back a hearty sigh.
The Soldat stares you down as he throws his belt to the side just like he did you a few hours ago. “I can’t believe you, honestly. Думая, что ты так выше меня, пытаясь помешать мне делать то, что я хочу. After this, you’re going to regret ever talking back to me like that ever again,” he rants under his breath like the mad man he is. Your tears have dried up, but your bottom lip starts to wobble again. He huffs, tired of seeing you cry.
Winter halts his movements and goes to remove his mask, the one thing that’s been hiding that sinister smirk of his. The dark, matte material is clutched between the tips of his cut-up, bruised fingers. He carefully places the mask on your face, covering your mouth and nose. The action shuts you up, just like how he wants. You look up at him without blinking your tears away. You let them fall and soak the mask, staining it with your waterworks.
The Soldat pulls his big, thick cock out of his tactical pants. His cock is as hard as a rock, blooding pumping down to it, and his veins throb on the side of his shaft. Beads of precum drip down from his tip, rolling down his cock. He’s a raging red, desperate to be inside of you. His metal head returns to your head, and he brings you higher up in your knees. Your neck cranes at such a painful angle that the ache in your knees is ignored.
“You better fucking look at me while I teach you your lesson, шлюха,” he warns, and you listen to him easily. Through your haze of pained tears, you manage to look into his eyes. You’re not sure what he wants to do and what he’s going to do. You never do. The Soldat is unpredictable, and even in your two years of knowing him, you’ll never understand how the gears in his mind turn.
“Not so dumb after all, huh,” he chuckles before shaking his head. Winter sighs and smiles down at you. “One last chance, шлюха,” he tells you in a sing-song voice. You don’t say anything, and the Soldat clicks his tongue. Suddenly, instead of the delicious precum, he would usually make you lap up like a kitten, clear streams of warmth hit your chest. You gasp behind the mask, but it comes out as muffled nonsense to him.
“Stop!” you cry out to him, but your words are once again muffled. His pee soaks your chest as he relieves himself from the pressure in his bladder. Your hands bat at his stiff thighs, hitting them just so that he can stop humiliating you and treating you like you’re all but human. Winter growls, and his metal arm drops your head, and he slaps your hands away. His pee covers your tits and drips down your skin, staining you with disgust and humiliation.
The streams soon stop, and you’re sobbing even louder now. “Oh shut it, this isn’t even as bad of a punishment. I’m going easy on you, шлюха, I could easily do worse,” Soldat growls as the slightly tinted liquid drips from the tip and onto the ground. Your chest stutters with sobs, and you can barely breathe. You’re covered and coated like a freshly bought canvas, and Winter’s just ruined you. Almost in the same manner that you’d destroy your father’s canvas with your cheap, dollar store paint.
Winter bends down and grabs what was once your shirt and is now just a piece of cloth. Kind of like how your mother would give you any leftover scraps of fabric to make something for you. She’d never let anything go to waste. He uses it to wipe the drops of urine that still drip from his cock, and then he throws it at you like you mean nothing to him. You let it fall to the ground because there’s no possible way a piece of cloth that was once on your back can fix your honour.
But who are you kidding? You lost your honour the moment you gave into the Soldat, just like you always do.
You stretch your arms out to him, silently pleading for comfort from him. But he shakes his head with a sly smile on his face. “Aw, you want your Master to help you out, мой питомец?” Winter questions, and you eagerly nod your head. His metal hand goes to remove the mask, but he stops as soon as he touches it. “Say please,” he orders with faux sympathy in his voice. “Please, Master,” you beg to him, and he smiles.
Winter places his hand back on the mask and yanks it off of your face. The sides scratch your cheeks a bit, but that’s not what matters. “T- Thank you, Master. I love you so much,” you tell him before struggling to put a smile on your face. At the end of the day, no matter how brutal he is with you, you’ll always love him. ...Right? “You’re welcome, кролик,” he says as he throws the mask to where his belt lies.
Your cheeks are sticky and stained with tears, much like your chest. Winter’s flesh hand cups your left cheeky lightly, and he’s back to being the gentleman who has killed for you on numerous occasions. He wipes away the wetness on your cheek as his other hand goes to his cock, grabbing the base of it. “Say ‘ah,’ моя маленькая шлюшка,” he orders before you can even register his signature Cheshire smirk.
His cock is shoved inside your mouth without any warning. He always does that. No heads up, no preparation, nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Winter wiggles his foot that’s underneath your cunt, and the sudden friction is startling. He calls you bunny because of this reason. You can get off on anything, and you’re always needy for him. “I can see how wet you are, шлюха. You’re soaking my boot with that little pussy of yours,” he coos.
You don’t realize how wet you are until he points it out. You’re absolutely soaking, and you’re not sure why. But for the utmost incomprehensible reason ever, you don’t care.
His cock slides down your throat until your nose nuzzles against his pubic bone. His balls touch your chin, and your saliva coats his cock thickly. Your throat and side of your kissable mouth both hurt horribly, but you ignore the pain just for him. “You’re my good little bunny, right?” he questions, and you nod while his cock rests on your tongue. “And good little bunnies like you always listen to their Masters, right?” Winter asks, and you nod again.
He smiles. His hand on your cheeks moves to the back of your head slowly, returning to its newfound home. “I bet you want to come, don’t you, кролик?” he interrogates, and he’s not wrong. You really do want to come, and you’re a bit ashamed of it. “Master will let you come, don’t worry. I’m gonna let you have cummies, кролик,” he promises, and you happily giggle around his cock.
“Go on, hump my boot like the little bunny you are,” he pushes, and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. You want to protest so badly, but the memories of what he just did to you freshly flood your mind like the memories from when you were younger. “Are you that stupid that I have to explain how to get yourself off? Or are you just not listening to me, кролик?” he asks in a tone that reminds you of subdued thunder.
You shake your hand and try to move your hips around a bit. Your soaking wet pussy grinds against the leather of Winter’s shoe, and your clit throbs at the feeling. Winter’s cock slides out of your mouth until the fat tip of it is all that’s left, and then he quickly shoves it back in. Your loud gags and his moans fill the room like music. Your loss of oxygen makes you see stars, and you can recall how much your father loved to paint the midnight skies until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.
Your old toothbrushes would serve as the home of the clouds of dust that the stars would be born from. His fingers would be covered in white paint that would fall off in the water and swirl down the sink. His black t-shirts would have white freckles on them, and your mother would always suggest for him to turn the cloth into a galaxy. He’d always tell her one day, and you’d always remind him of that day whenever you’d catch him painting.
“Fuck, you always do look even prettier with my cock in your mouth, кролик,” he swears, and you smile around his cock. Oh, well, you at least try to smile. You continue to rub yourself against his boot as he uses your throat as he pleases. Your hole drools with want, and your slick gives his shoe a shine that is unmatched by any other substance. The burning, fiery feeling on your clit spreads to your abdomen, and you can feel yourself being brought closer to the edge.
You’re moaning around his thick cock, sending sinful vibrations throughout him. “Fuck, are you gonna come, кролик?” he questions as he feels you hug his leg. You nod around his cock, and he begins to push your head back and forth of his cock, matching your desperate movements. He uses you like a fleshlight, and you’re used to it. “Well, too fucking bad, шлюха, you’re not allowed to come,” he spits, and your hips freeze in place.
“I didn’t say stop, did I? No, I didn’t, continue, шлюха,” he sneers, and you listen to the Soldat. You’re not sure how you’re going to stave off your orgasm, but you’ll do anything for him. You slowly begin to grind your hips back and forth on his boot again, trying to slow your breathing down, and Winter fucks your face sloppily. “Fuck, you want my cum, don’t you, кролик?” he questions, and you squeeze his leg tighter.
Winter pulls his cock out abruptly and pinches the base, staving off his release only for a few seconds. “I said, don’t you want my cum, шлюха?” he asks once again, and you nod. Saliva coats your mouth, and you can barely catch your breath. “I- I really want your cum, Master, please! Please give me your cum,” you plead to him with a ditzy look in your eyes. You wiggle your hips side to side just to give off the impression that you’re getting yourself off.
But you can’t fool the fooler. Nobody can.
“I’m going to give you all my cum, шлюха, and you’re going to take it all like a good girl,” he moans as he shoves his cock back into your mouth. Winter shoves himself deep inside your throat until you can’t take any more of his length. You swallow around his cock, and he moans loudly, swearing in Russian. The words roll off his tongue skillfully, and you feel yourself getting even wetter.
He grabs your head even tighter and bobs your skull up and down his cock a few more times before finally hitting his release. His balls tighten up, and a deep, throaty moan leaves his mouth in the best way ever. Hot, sticky ropes spurt down your throat before you can even register the way he throws his head back. Winter’s long hair spills on the sides of his head as his cum spills down your throat. You have no choice but to swallow, but it’s not like you want to spit his seed out anyways.
Winter lets out a deep moan that goes straight to your core, and his hand pats your head in a praising manner. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl,” he praises as he slowly pulls his sensitive cock out of your mouth. Your cunt flutters with sensitivity, and you want to come so badly, but you just can’t. The Soldat takes a few steps back, slipping his foot away from your aching pussy. You let out a whimper, and he smiles.
“I’m not done with you, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and your heart flutters. You’ve managed to ignore the building pressure in your bladder, but now it seems to come back stronger. “C- Can I go pee first, Master?” you politely ask him, still on your knees. Even that ache has returned, but it’s the least important thing as of now. He ignores your question as he works on the numerous straps on his battle uniform.
Skillful fingers take off the leather vest he wears, revealing a bulletproof protectant that saves him from certain dangers. “Get on the bed, кролик,” Winter orders as he continues to strip himself. You begin to stand up on your wobbly, scarred legs, but he tuts. “Uh uh, not like that,” he interjects, walking back to you. He pushes you back onto the floor, and you fall with a sob. “On your knees, because that’s what you deserve. Nothing more, шлюха,” he sneers, and you sniffle.
You slowly crawl to the bed. Each time your knees touch the ground, you burn up with both arousal and humiliation. And it’s not like the action is making your need to go to the bathroom any better. The abrupt movement makes the liquid slosh inside you, and you want to burst out in tears, begging Winter to just let you relieve yourself. Your hands have slight scars from your nails, and it reminds you of when your father would encourage you to do the monkey bars.
You’d always try to swing yourself to the end with all your might. But you never could do it. You’d fall down to the ground and leave the park wailing. The scars and blisters on your hand would make your parents so upset, but that never stopped you from wanting to go back and try again. Eventually, you got too old to try, and it would always upset you. Maybe one day you’ll be able to try again— one day.
You hear zippers unzipping and velcro cracking behind you as you get on the bed. The coolness of the sheets is so refreshing against your hot skin. It soothes you for a few seconds, but it eventually loses its worth. You turn around and face him with a sort of dumbfounded look on your face. He fucking loves it; Winter always does. He’s naked, fully naked, and even his signature tactical boots have been discarded.
If you squint, you could see the way your wetness shines on his boot. “Good girl, such as good little bunny,” he praises, and you can feel yourself get flustered. Winter climbs onto the bed, staring you dead in the eyes. He kneels in front of you with a wicked smirk, and he brings his flesh hand up to your throat. You let out a gasp as he squeezes your neck tightly before he leans in closer to you.
The Soldat’s face is just a mere few centimetres away from yours. You can feel each breath that he takes against your skin. His hard cock rests against your sticky chest, and he’s still hard as fuck. “Open your mouth, кролик,” he orders, and you instantly do so. You wait for his cock to be stuffed in your mouth once again, but it never comes. You watch as he puckers his lips up before spitting right by your mouth.
You choke in surprise as his saliva slowly drips into your mouth, landing on your sore tongue. You whimper at the feeling, and Winter has a proud smile on his face. He pulls his head away from yours, in the same manner your father would whenever he’d finish one of his masterpieces. “Swallow it all, кролик, I know you want to,” he orders in a sing-song voice.
You follow his demand obediently. You can’t lie; the sheer act of him spitting in your mouth and forcing you to swallow it makes you even wetter. You’d take anything he gives you. “You’re such a good girl, you know that right?” he questions, and your chest heaves. Winter’s cock twitches against you, and you so desperately want him inside you. But there’s nothing you want more than to go relieve yourself.
His metal hand comes up to your face, and you think he’s going to lovingly hold you. You absolutely adore it when he strokes your cheeks. The Soldat’s thumb touches the soft yet slightly sweaty skin of your face and moves back and forth. Chills run down your spine, and you smile into his touch. He suddenly pulls his hand away, and he strikes you roughly. You let out a cry as your skin stings and prickles from the hit.
He does it again and again until your tears soak his hand. Your cheek is practically numb from the pain. You can feel his cock leaking with cum, and you know that he’s going to fuck you, just like you want him to. “Did you forget your manners?” Winter harshly questions, and you quickly shake your head. “T- Thank you, Master,” you whisper to him, and he smiles.
“Master… Can I please go to the bathroom? Please, it hurts,” you beg to him, but he just shakes his head. “P- Please, Master? I’ll be a good girl, I promise!” you plead to him as your tears run down your face even quicker. He ignores your cries for relief, and he instead slams you onto the bed. Your mind is a mess as he combs on top of you, and the aches you have only get stronger.
The hand that was slapping some sense into you finds a new home on your stomach, right above your swollen bladder. He pushes down on your stomach slightly, and you kick your legs. “Shh, none of that, no, stop it,” he shushes, and you try your hardest to not let go right there and then. “Master knows what you need, okay? And right now, you need my cock, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and you sob.
The hand on your throat moves to his cock, and he grabs his thick base. The veins on the side throb with need, and in one thrust, he bottoms out inside you. You barely have the time to register what’s just happened. The painful stretch of his cock radiates throughout your core, and you dig your nails into the scarred skin of your palms. His tip nudges against your g-spot, and you coat his cock with your wetness.
Winter is buried inside you to the hilt, filling you up to the brim. His swollen, heavy balls rest against your ass, and you both try to get used to the connection. The painful stretch dulls down to an exquisite pleasure, and Winter loves the way your tight cunt gets used to his thick cock. He’s splitting you in two, but he simply does not care. His hand returns back to your throat, and this time, he squeezes the sides of your neck even tighter.
Winter pulls his cock out until his fat tip is the only thing resting inside of your pussy. He slams back into you roughly, and you let out a cry. Your jaw falls slack as the Soldat begins to fuck into your relentlessly. His balls slap against your ass, and your loud, short-lived moans fill the cell that you’ve grown to love. “Fucking hell, кролик, your pussy feels so good,” he growls, slamming into you even harder.
Your tits bounce with every movement he makes. The pleasure sears through your body as Winter hammers against your poor g-spot with each thrust he makes. “Master, please, I need to go really badly,” you beg to him as he continues to fuck you. He shakes his head in objection before pushing down on your stomach even harder. You let out a wail and try to squirm away, but you only worsen things for yourself.
“No, you don’t, кролик. The only thing you need is my cock,” the Soldat tells you, and you upsettingly toss your head back. “No, Master, please, I don’t wanna make a mess,” you reason with him, but he just doesn't seem to want to listen. “I know that, кролик, but you need to listen to me, okay? You don’t need to go; you just need me,” he growls lowly, and you can feel him pushing harder on your bladder.
“No- Wait, Master, please stop pushing on me,” you implore to him as a moan follows your words. Your silky, wet cunt hugs his cock as the tingly feeling in your bladder becomes stronger. You want to cross your legs and stop it from growing, but you can’t. Pressure builds up in your core, and you’re not sure if you’re going to come or if you’re going to make a mess and humiliate yourself.
“Let go, мой тупой ребенок, I know you want to so badly. You can make a mess, do it,” Winter urges, and you shake your head. “No, Master, please stop it,” you cry to him, but he only fucks you harder. One specific thrust hits your cervix, and you yell out in pain before even realizing what’s happened. Warmth trickles down your thighs and onto his cock. You let out a wail as humiliation blossoms from your soul.
Though there’s nobody else watching, you’re still embarrassed. And that wicked smirk on Winter’s face does nothing to help you out. The sound of it makes your back sweat, and you want the ground to open up and take you home. Your urine wets the sheets beneath you, and your tears wet your face. “God, look at you. You finally got what you wanted, and here you are, crying like a fucking brat. You’re so ungrateful. Do you even deserve my cum?” he questions with disgust on his tongue.
You struggle to nod, but you do it anyway. The last thing you need is to have your Master upset with you. “‘M sorry, Master, please forgive me,” you plead to him. You continue to relieve yourself, and he continues to fuck you despite the mess you’re making in his shaft. “Такой грязный, глупый малыш. Ты такой жалкий, ты же знаешь это, да?” he questions even though you only know one simple word of Russian. You moan loudly as you slowly stop making a mess and begin to feel your orgasm building up.
“Aw, are you gonna come, кролик?” Winter asks you in a condescending tone, one that makes you even wetter. The lewd sounds that come from your pussy as just as humiliating as what you’ve just done, but you don’t care. You’re too busy getting fucked stupid. “Fuck, I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my cum; watch it leak out of you. You always do look prettier when you’re filled up with my cum,” he moans as his thrusts grow sloppy.
“Master, ‘m gonna c- come,” you whimper to him, laying in your own piss. “Go ahead, шлюха, come on my cock. You already made a mess on me twice, might as well do it for the third time,” Winter growls, moving the hand that lays on your stomach. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you closer towards his cock. Hot flames lick at your abdomen as you hit your climax, seeing stars in your vision.
Your reality is warped as you can barely make out the look on Winter’s face. Darkness takes over your vision in the same manner as the clouds would take over the skies on those hot summer days. They would hide the pretty sun for a few minutes, and then they’d leave eventually. Your pussy clamps down on his cock tightly as you coat him with your juices, making him moan.
You wail loudly as you clench around him, making him groan. “Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he asks without waiting for an answer. You nod as he fucks you through your orgasm, not even caring about how overstimulated you are. His cock slips in and out of you with ease and his thrusts begin to grow sloppy. “Tell me how much you want my cum,” he demands, fucking you even slower.
“I- I want your cum really badly, Master. I need it so badly; please fill me up with your cum!” you politely beg to you as you come down from your much-needed high. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so nicely, кролик, you’re gonna beg me to fuck you again,” Winter husks as his balls tighten up. A string of Russian words leave his mouth, and you have to assume that it’s all foul language.
Warm, white ropes of cum paint your walls as he pushes deep inside your cunt while coming. Winter’s blue eyes squeeze shut, and you both moan at the feeling. He fills you up just like he promised, and you bite down on your lips. Everything has dried, and you feel disgusted, so you try to focus on the way his cum pumps inside you. His cock stays inside you, but he doesn’t soften at all, and you know what that means. Winter falls on top of your sticky chest with a sigh, and tears sting your eyes.
Though he says you need him, you wonder if that’s really true.
The one where Bucky can’t accept that he’s now your ex
Warnings: smut, violent dubcon bordering on noncon, ex!Bucky, anger, possessiveness, unprotected sex, breeding kink, no foreplay, no regard for reader’s pain, dacryphilia, brief physical aggression
Word count: 2.1k
A/N: okay, so this one is a part of my kinktober celebrations. Yes, I’m aware it’s not quite october yet (although… where the hell is the year going, I swear every time I blink it’s a new day) but the thing is, I decided to scrap my original intention, which was to work exclusively around prompts that my wonderful friend @darkficsyouneveraskedfor created for her challenge and dedicate each story to a different friend. My new plan became then 31 days of different kinks, which will expand on a poly relationship with Stucky, as you might know by now. However, some of the stories I started were already truly loved by me, and so I kept on writing them. It worked well because as it turns out, I am fortunate enough to have more than 31 friends on Tumblr, so here is the first bonus piece of that original intention, dedicated to my lovely friend @bestofbucky. Jenny, you are a lovely person, a talented writer and truly a joy to talk to. I know this year hasn’t been the easiest on you but I am so grateful that you’re in my life and I hope you know you can always count on me for anything.
Another call that went straight to voicemail. I was tempted to leave one more message, try it one more time, but I’d been doing that for the last two weeks and still, no response. I just couldn’t reach her. She wasn’t giving me any chances.
For the first time, the despair I’d been feeling since she called it quits started to morph into anger. Why the hell did she think she could do this? Toss an entire year of our relationship for something that small, and I didn’t even get a say in it?
Fuck this. I knew I could get her to talk to me. What could she possibly do to keep me away? I’d been patient. I tried giving her time. Now it was time to get her back, no matter what.
— PAIRING: soft!dark!Winter Soldier x Female!Reader
— SYNOPSIS: The Asset didn’t get to meet many ladies at the Hydra base, certainly none as lovely as the Director’s assistant. Stuck with looking at her from a distance, he had no hope of ever seeing her in private, until one night he paid the Director a visit and found her there instead.
— CONTENTS: dub-con, pining, kissing, mutual masturbation, sweet dirty talk
— WORD COUNT: 3k
— A/N: This is a request made by my lovely @offcast-plus1 <3 It took forever, but it’s here!
He always heard him before he saw him — the Director, strutting in to get his report of how the mission went, not waiting for any written or recorded summary. Thought he was important enough to get it in person, or maybe he just wanted to see everyone cower before him, wanted to show off his control over the Winter Soldier. Pierce leaned his body against a table that barely held, and listened as the Asset recounted his kills, his success, his failures.
Standing aside afterward to talk to the doctors, the breadth of him revealed his inconspicuous assistant. Always making herself small, always taking notes, always looking down: except now, when her gaze went up and met the cold hard stare of the Soldier, half-naked and bloodied, singed in places from electric shocks, cut from rock edges and debris, but undefeated. Hers was a very human look… Open, pitying, a little scared, nothing like that of her boss, nothing like the doctors. And in that moment, though he wouldn’t show it, the Soldier felt like the only real people in the room were he and she. He almost opened his mouth to speak, through the noise and the commotion of neighbouring arguments, though he had no idea what he could say to someone like her… when Pierce left and took her with him.
The next few times he saw her were pitifully distant and brief. Passing by through the corridor, seeing her on the other side of a courtyard, looking up to find her gazing at him through a 2nd story window, with the little notepad at her heart or on her lap and a quiet, serious face that smiled at the right time and only to the right extent, and a typically sterile looking white suit or sometimes a Hydra-green. On those days when the base organised parades for the leadership, he’d see her in the crowd, looking interested but unimpressed, until her eyes found his and her whole composure seemed to melt into a flustered, fearful state. The Soldier never knew what she could be afraid of — what did she have to fear from him? He meant to ask her, and it seemed he could, tonight, when he was waiting for Director Pierce to come back home, but found her there instead.
the only perk to living in a tiny, hyper-religious town, is that you know everyone. but you’ve always been desperate to be alone, to stay out of the crowds and out of public eye. so, of course, out of all people, the man in town no one knows has set his sights on you.
warnings: SMUT (kinda somno, dubcon, fingering, blood kink, slight innocence kink) stalking, slightly religious themes, small town bs
note: i’m a vampire fucker with a big fear of my own blood. call this exposure therapy. heavily inspired by midnight mass!
Maybe it’s the way your hair falls along the trim of your top. Maybe it’s the way your pretty chest falls up and down as you breathe; moving the sheets and causing your night shirt to flow. Maybe it’s the way he can feel the blood coursing through your veins, hear your heart beating out your lifeline that he craves. Whatever it is, it’s drawing him in.
It doesn’t even start as a hello.
Your father was the wealthiest man in your small, suburban town. Most men in the area worked for him, bled for him, and with a population of less than two hundred, that was practically everyone.
With his business going up, the family growing higher and higher in ranks, a party was held as celebration. A gathering at your home, guests found themselves in the sizable downstairs, brought together in a communal potluck with lights and live music— which was mostly played by older men with old instruments, singing southern blues on their guitars and banjos, or teenage boys who form bands out of their garage, slick with hair dye and horror themed shirts.
The men in town had practically surrounded you in a corner, hounding you for a chance at conversation. You’re young, pretty, one of the only single women in your town— and wracked with money from your father. But you didn’t seem interested in any of them.
James Buchanan Barnes was a mystery to anyone who saw him, and those few did. A man presumably ten years your senior, he only showed up at parties, at church, always uninvited, but never unwelcomed. No one knew how he could afford his clothes; no one had seen him work a day in his life. No one knew of his family. No one knew of him.
He was a figure not many had spoken to. Nothing but casual hellos at grocery stores, the singing during nighttime masses and hand-offs at potlucks— which you never saw him eat at.
When you had left the boys, dispersed from the group to grab something from the kitchen, you found yourself alone with the aforementioned man. As you reached for the fridge, his hand fell on your upper back, excusing himself as he grabbed something from a higher cabinet.
The moment his hand touched your back you felt struck with something you couldn’t explain. His skin was freezing cold to the touch, almost as if he had been carved out of ice — but his skin was so soft. So youthful.
“I don’t see you too much around here,” You find yourself speaking, voice quiet like a mouse, squeaking it’s way out of a hole.
He smiles, lightly chuckling to himself, before responding: “Don’t see you too much, either. Most talk I hear is you lock yourself in your bedroom all day.”
“I…” You begin, not being able to help the smile that forms, “I’m not much for crowds.”
“Hmm,” He hums. “Me neither.”
You knew something then and there. He was different from the other men you’ve met; no talk of your father, no talk of your wealth, no talk of your history. He kept everything about you, right now, here.
When he left the party, you felt this sudden emptiness, an unexplainable depth in your chest. It was strange, how he grabbed you with such little conversation, how only his hand on your back could light this fire burning within you.
James had left, tranced by the way you smiled.
Your voice was small and quiet, and so were you. You kept your head down, pulling down your skirt when you felt uncomfortable, picking at your cuticles whenever he looked into your eyes for too long. The way you huddled into yourself had him curious, unable to waver you from his thoughts.
He couldn’t explain it, not even to himself.
That night, he found himself wandering. Like his feet had their own path, guiding him somewhere familiar. It’s not the first time this has happened. Not the first time he’s been guided by nothing but the emptiness in his stomach.
When he gets to your window, perched on the tree outside, the time ticks by faster than he can imagine.
By the time the sun comes up, he realizes he’s stayed there all night. Watching you.
And that’s what he continues to do, every night. Every night for the next three weeks.
Of course, he sees you during the day, but barely— you’re both solitary, both lone creatures, but that’s what he likes so much about you. What draws him to you.
You barely notice how he stares at you during church, how he finds himself bumping into you during every grocery outing. How he finds every excuse to be next to you, to feel the warmth radiating off of your skin to fill his empty veins.
He doesn’t know what changes that night.
It’s a Friday, and he hasn’t seen you in three days— and he knows it’s strange, because he practically has your schedule memorized.
Your curtains are white and sheer, leaving him with easy glances to your form, wreck with sleep and peace. The moon is hitting your skin just right; the first full one in ages, lighting up your tone like a painting.
When his feet hit your soft carpet, he’s consumed with the smell of you.
Your room is lit by nothing but moonlight, illuminating your skin in a way that takes his breath away from him. His hand barely touches your skin, drifting down your jawline; curling his fingers at your chin to take a look at your lips, plump and soft. It almost pains him to leave them unkissed.
While he strokes down your neck, his touches are light, barely even there. He can’t help it. You’re too pure. Too good— he can’t hurt you, can’t press down hard enough to even leave the faintest of marks. He’s left with airy touches, scared that when he gives them the tiniest amount of pressure you’ll shatter like porcelain.
When he kneels on the bed, the mattress dips with his weight, the floorboards creaking underneath the metal frame. His hands are gliding down your waist, feeling your skin; as much as he can without removing your shirt, but he refuses to without your permission. He won’t let his eyes wander there without you saying he can.
As he continues, you start to stir; moaning to yourself in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing in a tight knit. Goosebumps are raising on your skin from how cold his skin feels.
He was right to be worried.
With the slightest faint of pressure onto your flesh, your eyes flutter open, slow and dizzy with sleep. They take some time to focus, and when they do— you jolt, head practically slamming against the headboard, but he grabs you, trying to hold you still as softly as he can when he covers your mouth.
“Please,” He breathes, quiet, begging. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
James’ free hand, metallic, holds onto your pulse point, pressing down lightly and holding you still. You gasp at the movement, eyes fluttering, threatening to close with the pressure.
“I won’t hurt you.” He whispers. But no matter how much he promises, he knows he can’t help it. It’s in his nature.
When he releases his hand from your mouth, he can feel your breath fanning against his skin in heavy pants.
“Why are you in my room?” Is the first thing you ask.
“I don’t know.” It’s both a truth and a lie. His body guides him, driven by hunger and your smell, driving his unconscious body to wherever you may be. But he knows why he’s here. Knows why he wants to be here.
“What are you going to do?”
At your scared tone, his eyebrows furrow together hard, worry etching all over his features: “No, no, no,” He pleads, “Don’t worry. Please, don’t worry.”
Your eyes are scanning his face, filled with fear, trying to decipher exactly what his intentions are. They’re searching for something, anything, but hardly find anything other than his worry.
“Why are you here?” You repeat. Harder. Stricter.
“To look at you.” That, that’s the truth. But not the whole truth.
He can smell the way your pulse changes. The sight of him, above you, eyes glossy and pleading; you don’t know why, but it’s filling you with something. Something you only felt the night you met him.
“Will you let me hold you?”
It’s almost frightening, how fast you nod.
He leans down, careful not to press too much of his weight onto you, before lying his head down in the crook of your neck. His hands lay down by your hips, and yours find themselves tangled in his shirt, legs spread to accommodate him between them.
You can feel him inhale you. Can feel him nuzzle himself in your neck, like a burrowing bunny, desperate to get as close as possible.
A sharp prick of his fang catches in your skin, and you cry out to the air. Only the smallest drop of blood is released, like a papercut; but his tongue licks it up nonetheless. You can feel, hear him moan at the taste, vibrating against your skin.
“‘M sorry,” He says, licking the blood off of his lips.
You whine, legs squirming, “‘S okay.”
Your voice is as quiet as the night you met.
His hand, metallic, reaches to the other side of your neck, free from his skin, and presses down onto your collarbone. He’s rubbing up and down your skin, consuming your warmth, digging his face further into your neck as he does so.
You almost moan, feeling his body dig closer to yours, the zipper of his jeans rubbing against your pussy through your tiny little panties he’s seen so many times. His mouth opens, his hot breath scattering on your skin.
“Please do it again,” You whisper.
“What?”
“Bite my neck.”
James is silent for a moment, heart stopping at your plead, surprised that you would ask him such a thing. He’s so depraved, so desolate, so disgusted with the creature he’s become; and yet here you are, begging him to let it overtake him. Asking him to indulge in his own sickness. Something only the devil could’ve given him.
And he will. Gladly.
His fangs nick your neck deeper this time, careful not to hit an artery, licking up the blood that trickles down. You squirm and moan, panting and heaving like you’re out of breath. The taste of you has him reeling, has his skin feeling like it’s been electrocuted. He can’t get enough.
You dig your fingers through his hair, carding through each strand before you tug it, letting him dig his teeth deeper into your skin. He doesn’t even notice that he’s been grinding into you, until you let out a practically pornographic moan, ending it off with a whimper that has your lips quivering.
“I’m tingling,” You say, voice barely a whisper, still sounding like a whine.
He looks up at you, lips still wet with blood, “Where?”
You take his hand, the one on your collarbone, and guide it in-between your bodies. You press his palm against your clothed pussy, whining at the feeling, pressing against it. He groans, deep in his throat.
“You ever been touched down here before?”
You shake your head. That makes him smile.
When you let go of his hand, he begins to slide it up and down, rubbing his palm against your mound. You’re whining, pressing against him, unable to stop your legs from squirming.
“‘M gonna make you feel good,” James says, “But you gotta let me keep feeding.”
It’s a selfish offer, he knows that. Both things give him pleasure, both things keep him alive, both things he finds himself craving. Needing.
“Mhm,” You moan, teeth digging down into your bottom lip.
James’ hand slides underneath your underwear, tracing his fingers down your folds and through your wetness. He’s surprised to feel you practically drenched, almost wetter than the blood that dripped down your neck, covering his hand with your juices.
He rubs his fingers against your clit in tight circles, watching as you pant and squirm underneath him. He finds his head back in your neck, scraping your skin for the tiniest bit of scraps he can get, knowing if he gets too carried away he could hurt you— and that, he could never live with.
“It feels so good,” You chant like a mantra, “It feels so good.”
“I know,” He grunts, “I know it does.”
His fingers find themselves catching in your hole, one pushing it’s way inside as his thumb keeps rubbing your clit.
You cry out, and he shushes you. “You can’t let your daddy hear, okay?”
You nod with fervor. He’s careful to ease into you, stretching you with another finger, letting you adjust with long stretches of time. You barely feel him drinking you at this point, barely feel his fangs scraping your skin, too wrapped up in the pleasure he’s bringing you.
“I need more.” You pant.
“I know, I know you do,” He says, “I need you to come on my fingers first, I need it, honey, I know you can do it. You’re gettin’ real close, aren’t ya?”
You nod, eyes screwed tightly shut as his fingers get faster.
“Come on my fingers, squeeze ‘em real tight,” He’s grunting, unable to stop himself from grinding against you, “Then I’m gonna fuck you nice and good, okay?”
You let out a vulgar whine at that, feeling your high approaching like a race. When it gets there, it crashes through you almost violently, locking the muscles in your legs and ripping through your core. You can’t help but squirm against him, crabbing every part of him like a lifeline. He’s groaning with you, muffled by your neck.
James’ can’t help how quick he acts. He’s unbuttoning his trousers as soon as your breathing evens out, pulling his cock out and letting it slap against his chest and your tummy on the way. He pulls down your panties, letting them rest on your mid thigh.
You gasp, fingers clutching onto his shirt, “Is that gonna fit?”
He lets out a shaking breath, “We’re gonna make it fit.”
He circles the tip around your clit, bumping against it a few times, before it catches against your hole. He groans, deep and heavy as it goes in— you’re yelping, overwhelmed with the stretch, but he holds you down. “Take it, it’s okay.”
When he bottoms out, the dull ache in your core settles and you pull him down on-top of you. He stays like that; still and unmoving, just for a few minutes, trying his best to ignore the way his cock twitches so he can let you adjust.
When he starts moving, James starts with a subtle grind. He’s pressing you down into the mattress, his ass flexing as he moves, cock stretching you to your limit. He gets faster, his heavy balls slapping against your skin, face smushed against your chest.
“Yes,” He’s grunting, groaning against your skin, “Yes, take it. God, knew you’d be a good girl, so fuckin’ good for me— clenchin’ around me so fuckin’ tight, oh god, gonna make me cum so hard, so deep, up in that little pussy.”
Your legs wrap around his waist, pushing his cock deeper into you. You cry out when it hits that spot, the feeling almost painful. “Yes, yes, please, yes!”
His grunts are loud, the only thing you can hear besides the slapping of skin and your own whines. He’s manhandling you on his cock like a toy, all while praising you; such a good girl, taking this cock so well, gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard, pussy’s like heaven.
“Mm,” You whine, “It’s- it’s happening again,”
“Oh god,” He says with a broken groan, “You gonna cum again?”
You nod.
“What would daddy think of you, huh? Think about his good little girl, fuck, cumming around a fat cock, just right across the hall— shit, begging for him to fuck her harder. Rejected all the nice men who’d court her proper, shit, just like that, just to let the no-name fuck her full.”
His teeth slam inside your shoulder, making obscene slurping sounds as he drinks you. That does you in— your pussy clenches down around him hard, squeezing his cock so tight it’s hard for him to even move.
“Yes,” James grunts, “God, yeah,”
His thrusts get sloppier, faster, balls slapping against you with reckless abandon. The blood drips down your collarbone and down to your tits, sliding against the curve of your breasts— barely covered by your tank top.
“‘M gonna fill you up,” He moans, licking up the excess that falls between your breasts, “Fill you up nice and good.”
With a few more thrusts, he ends with one final, heavy pound against your cervix, spilling his load deep inside you. You whine at the feeling of his cum filling you, legs squirming around him— finding yourself too restless.
James lays silent, holding you against him. It’s almost contradictory, the gentleness of which he’s holding you, compared to how he just took you apart with both his cock and his teeth. You find yourself falling into the feeling, nuzzling yourself against his palm.
His nose tickles your jaw, before pressing a much awaited kiss to your sweet, plump lips. “I’ll be back tomorrow night.”
You can’t help but smile. It’s ridiculous, how you feel like a fairy tale, like a princess who’s just found her knight and shining armor. Fulfilled.
can I request a fallen angel!winter soldier fic :) reader finds WS wandering around Romania all by himself when it’s cold and even tho he can’t get sick she wants to help him. maybe he’s reluctant at first but she insists on him going back to her apartment and showering and helping him wash his hair. OH and maybe once he’s tried food for the first time he asks “can i have that thing where two people put their arms around each other and rest” and reader has to hold back tears and cuddles him🥰
Guardian Angel
Pairing: Winter Soldier x reader (Fallen Angel AU)
Word Count: 1,478
Summary: You’re enjoying the evening when you get a unexpected visitor.
Author’s Note: I loved writing this and I hope you enjoy it too! It was also perfect for my wifeys birthday celebration writing challenge @littledarlinhavefaithinme HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAUTY! Be sure to wish her a happy one today (2/25) ❤❤❤ I hope you have the best day ever, love and hugs always! Thank you for reading! :)
Warnings: fluffy goodness in the form of the WS and a dog :)
It was rare to hear much other than the wildlife that surrounds your small cabin in the woods. The wilderness in Romania is vast and untouched other than the few homes that dot the landscape. The world is quiet here and you love it.
Run-through: You learnt about them when you were young. You had tomes filled with information about them, how to invite one, how to control one, etc. You also knew that if done right, union with an incubus was said to result in the birth of powerful witches. And now, after having spent years all alone following the unfortunate slaughter of your family you have two strong desires; to have a child and to continue the witch bloodline. Both of which can be fulfilled by summoning and making the right arrangements with the right incubus. And the best part of it all, incubi were known to be incapable of love and emotional attachment, so ending the arrangement once you conceived wouldn’t be hard for either parties involved. Except, it’s not always that easy, is it? And perhaps, not all incubi are heartless.
Themes: breeding kink, smut, fluff, incubus!bucky, witch!reader, size difference, he has wings and a tail, some angst, HEA
a/n: nothing is folklore accurate whatsoever just excessive imagination and vibes hehe
You were prepared if ever it was not going to work the first time.
Summary: When the arrangement started he paid you for your company, you didn’t expect to fall for him.
Warnings: pet names (sweetheart), daddy kink, smut; fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, loss of virginity. This blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI.
Author's note: Will I ever be able to write Andy Barber as anything but a worshipper? Probably not! Enjoy day 9!! (word count: 2k)
Kinktober 2021 masterlist
“Do you like the gift I sent you, sweetheart?”
His voice is a low purr in your ear as you hold back a shudder. You can see your reflection in the window. The gift he’s referring to is the deep red lingerie set you’re wearing. The delicate lace hugging your skin and leaving very little to the imagination.
You take a deep breath as you feel Andy’s hands trail softly up your arms, he moves your hair from off your shoulder before placing a light kiss there.
“Come on, sweetheart, use your words,” he hums against your skin.
“I love it, thank you daddy,” you breathe, your eyes closing and head tilting to the side as he places kisses up your neck.
You and Andy had started your arrangement six months ago. You’d just graduated from college and were struggling to make headway in your career. You’d taken to bartending at events just to make sure you could make rent - that’s where you’d caught Andy’s eye. As soon as Andy saw you he was smitten.
Andy had spent all night trying to win you over, wanting nothing more than to just spend time in your company. It wasn’t until he overheard you on the phone to your landlord, begging for another extension on your rent, that an idea popped into his head.
When he first proposed the idea to you all you did was laugh. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing and you politely declined. But you couldn’t help the rush you felt when he slipped his business card into your hand, his fingers brushing yours and a playful smirk on his lips as he leaned in to whisper “think about it” before giving your cheek a peck.
And it’s all you could think about for the next three days. After another call from your landlord you gave in. What did you have to lose?
“Turn around for me, sweetheart.”
You did as he asked, covering yourself the best you could with your arms. Sure, you and Andy had slowly started becoming intimate but never like this. And you’d never gone all the way with him, or in fact anyone.
“Sweetheart, don’t hide from me,” he purrs, his hands encasing your wrists, bringing your hands up to his lips and placing a soft kiss on each palm before placing them on his shoulders.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands coming up to rest on your waist. “I need you to promise me that if anything gets too much, or you get uncomfortable or you want to stop for any reason, you will tell me.”
You nod your head slightly, leaning in to catch his lips but he leans back.
He chuckles at your pout, his thumb coming up to brush against your bottom lip, “I’m serious sweetheart, I need to hear you say it.”
You smile at his concern, warmth blooming in your chest, “I promise, daddy."
Andy’s smile matches yours, “that’s my good girl.”
His lips meet yours in a slow, passionate kiss and you find yourself melting into his chest. You’re so lost in his kiss that you don’t realise he’s moved you across the room until the back of your legs hit the edge of his bed.
“Gonna make you feel so good,” Andy whispers, pushing you back by your hips until you’re sat down.
You peer up at him from under your lashes and you can’t help but bite your lip at the sight.
Whilst you’re dressed only in lingerie, Andy is still fully clothed and damn he looks good. His crisp white shirt is rolled up to his elbows, showing off his thick, strong forearms. His shirt is tucked into his perfectly tailored trousers and you can’t help but admire the prominent bulge you can see.
“Sweetheart, you’re staring,” Andy smirks, his long fingers tilting your chin up so you’re looking up at him.
You hum, leaning forward and brushing your hand up his thigh, “I think you’re enjoying it.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
You go to undo his belt but his hands stop you, you stare up at him in confusion.
“Not tonight, sweetheart,” he pulls your hands away before kneeling in front of you, “tonight is all about you.”
You watch as he lifts your foot, his eyes never leaving yours as he trails kisses from your ankle to your knee.
You let out a surprised yelp when he hooks his hands under your knees and pulls you to the edge of the bed, causing you to fall backwards.
“Andy,” you giggle, sitting up on your elbows to watch him.
Andy shoots you a wink before leaning forward to nose against your clothed core. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding at the contact.
“Always so sweet for me,” Andy murmurs, his hands running up your thighs to your hips, gripping your panties and pulling them down your legs.
You fight the urge to close your legs, still not used to being so exposed, but Andy doesn't give you a chance to think before he's diving in.
He licks a line from your hole to your clit, swirling his tongue teasingly around your delicate bundle of nerves. His eyes on your face the whole time, watching as your brows furrow and you bite back a groan.
You're always so sensitive and Andy loves tormenting you. Loves making you so needy that you lose your inhibitions.
He sticks to light flicks of his tongue against your clit - not enough to bring you closer but enough to drive you crazy.
"Daddy," you whine, hands coming down to tangle in his soft hair as you try to raise your hips, "please, daddy, need more."
Andy pulls back slightly, bringing two fingertips to rub your clit as he speaks, "tell me what you need, sweetheart."
You throw your head back with a groan, your face heating up at the thought of the words you know he wants to hear.
"I can't help you if you don't tell me what you need," he teases, mock condescension dripping from his lips.
You take a deep breath to level yourself before lifting your head to catch his dark gaze.
"I need you to eat my pretty pussy, daddy."
His eyes get impossibly darker, a proud smirk stretching his lips as he looks at you with such intensity.
"That's my good girl."
His mouth is on you instantly, sucking and slurping everything you have to offer as he devours you.
You can't help the moan that escapes you when he pushes one thick finger into you. Your whimpered plea's fill the air as you tug harshly on his hair.
He pushes a second finger inside you and you gasp, "fuck, right there, daddy!"
Curling his fingers rapidly he looks up to see your head thrown back in total bliss, taking one of your hands from his hair to interlock your fingers, resting them on your stomach.
"You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?"
You nod your head, thighs clenching and hips bucking as you chase your release.
Andy reattaches his lips to your clit and sucks hard, the feeling causing you to shatter as you cum with a cry.
He works you through your release, groaning at the feel of you clenching around him.
"So fucking sexy," he murmurs, dragging his fingers slowly out of you before sucking your juices from them, "and so fucking sweet."
You're panting, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you try and catch your breath.
You feel the bed shift as Andy moves to stand up. Leaning up on your elbows, you watch as he undresses.
"You're staring again, sweetheart," he teases, removing his boxers. The sight of his hard cock has your mouth watering.
"Can you blame me?" you smirk, tilting your head to the side.
Andy lets out a chuckle before climbing over you, slotting perfectly between your legs.
He rests on one hand as he brings his other to caress your check whispering a soft "you're so beautiful," before leaning in for a bruising kiss.
You moan against his lips, your hands coming up to frame his face, his beard tickles your palms causing you to giggle.
Andy leans back and smiles at you with such adoration it steals the breath from your lungs.
“You ready, sweetheart?”
You nod your head, “please,” you whisper, raising your hips, “want to feel you.”
Andy leans down to press his lips to yours. Grabbing his cock as he positions himself at your entrance. He slowly pushes into you, swallowing your quiet gasps and whimpers. You knew he was big but you didn’t expect the stretch to sting so deliciously.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” Andy breathes once he’s fully inside you, pulling back slightly to see your eyes screwed shut as you bite your bottom lip.
“Hey, look at me,” he whispers softly, waiting for you to open your eyes. His hand comes up to caress your cheek and you can’t help but lean into it, “are you okay?”
The concern and sincerity in his voice has you melting. Tilting your head slightly you kiss his palm before smiling up at him, “I’ve never been better, you can move.”
Andy matches your smile before leaning down to give you a quick peck and then he’s moving, rocking his hips in slow, deliberate thrusts, letting you get adjusted to the feel of him.
You’ve never felt pleasure like it as Andy gradually speeds up. Your fingers dig into his thick shoulders leaving crescent moons embedded in his skin.
Andy's lips are on your neck, his hot breath fanning your dewy skin, placing the occasional kiss or bite.
His hand caresses down your body, finger tips trailing from your waist, over your hip, down your ass to your thigh. He grips and shifts your leg up, resting the back of your knee in the crook of his elbow.
The new angle has you seeing stars as you clench around him, hard.
"Shit, so fucking tight sweetheart. Feels like you were made for me," Andy grunts, his face moving away from your neck so he can see your face contort with pleasure. "Tell me how it feels."
You moan loudly at a particularly hard thrust, your eyes snapping open to meet his impossibly dark ones.
"Feels so, fuck, feels so good, daddy," you sob, a string of curses leaving your lips as Andy's hips snap into yours.
He moves your leg to rest on his shoulder and the new angle has his cock hitting your sweet spot.
You choke on a moan, your hands tugging on his hair as you crash his lips to yours.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, gonna cum," you pant against his lips.
You're reduced to an incoherent mess as Andy continues to drive into you, your walls clenching hard around him as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave.
"Oh fuck, gonna come inside this pretty pussy. Gonna make you mine," Andy growls, thrusting into you hard before smashing his lips on yours, his warm release filling you.
You can't help but groan against his lips as you feel him cum inside of you.
The two of you don't move for a moment, basking in the feel of each other. You don't know why but you can't stop the tears that fall from your eyes. The weight of emotion settling heavy on your chest.
You don't even realise until Andy's thumb brushes the tears from your cheeks.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" His voice holds so much concern and you can't stop the laugh that escapes you.
"I'm fine, honestly," you chuckle, "it's just a lot. I don't know why I'm crying."
"Are you sure?"
You smile sweetly at him, "more than sure. I love you, Andy."
You freeze, you hadn't meant to admit that but when you see the wide smile take over Andy's face all your worries disappear.
"I love you so much, sweetheart," he confesses, kissing you deeply, "and I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you."
I can't help the softness that peaks through with Andy 😭 thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed 💖 as always comments and reblogs are super appreciated ✨
Hi below are some of the best Bucky Barnes x Reader content I have come across. Enjoy reading & show some of these authors some love!!!
Please understand that some of these writing(s) may contain mature content. Please read over the warnings of the writer's content before reading.
If you would like to check out my Series Edition Fic Rec click -> HERE <-
╰┈➤The Shot Heard Round the Tower & Unwarranted Weaknesses by @pellucid-constellations
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: You just want to know if Bucky has feelings for you. Bucky just wants you to be okay.
╰┈➤ Flashing Lights & Convalescence by @pellucid-constellations
Pairing: Paramedic!Bucky x reader
Summary: Bucky’s worst fears come true when he’s called to a scene. If he’s the one with the dangerous job, then why is it your life that’s hanging in the balance?
╰┈➤ Say Something by @sweetheartybarnes
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: You’re in love with your best friend, with the guy you worked so hard to have a friendship with only to find out he’s been dating someone.
╰┈➤ In The Right Hands by @barnesafterglow
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader
Description: Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes from her lips, from the frost melting into teardrops on her eyelashes, from her slack face that seemed like the life was being drawn straight out of it with every wavering breath.
Blue lips were supposed to go with twinkling eyes and sticky fingers and half a headache from being in the sun too long.
╰┈➤ Waiting for You by @turbolisedcomet
Pairings: dbf!Bucky x reader(any race)
Summary: You waited for him but he changed his mind.
╰┈➤I'm With You 》 Bucky Barnes x Reader by @youlightmeupfinn
summary: You and Bucky are enemies, but share a common past. However, Bucky realizes he's in love with you upon watching the Winter Soldier in you unleash, resulting in him having to hurt you.
╰┈➤ missed me? by @buckyhoney
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: fwb!bucky barnes x reader
Summary: 103. “come and sit on my face and i’ll show you how much i missed you”
╰┈➤ the little flashing red light by @bucksfucks
pairing ; roommate!bucky x f!reader
abstract ; bucky asks you to help him make a sex-tape for his twitter account.
╰┈➤ Heathens by @cryptidcasanova
pairing: Demon!Biker Bucky x Reader
Summary: There’s something deliciously sinister about the man you met at the bar.
╰┈➤ KNEW YOU WOULD BE MY RUIN by @turbolisedcomet
Pairings: Bucky x reader(any race)
Summary: The time for you to finally relinquish your addiction has finally arrived.
╰┈➤ I can’t keep loving you by @wildestdreamsblog
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N
Summary: The one where he loved with only half of his heart.
╰┈➤ Forcefield & Safe Haven by @buckysfaveplum
pairing: bucky barnes x female enhanced!reader
summary: when a mission takes a turn for the worst, Bucky and y/n are forced to confront their feelings for each other.
╰┈➤ Going Live & Offline by @ambrosiase
pairing: camboy!bucky x fem!reader
summary: your new neighbour looks so familiar, where had you seen him before?
╰┈➤ Saturdays are for chaos & October Love by @agentofbarnes
pairing ~ college!stoner!bucky barnes x college!younger!reader (young and free au)
╰┈➤ Stark Hub by @world-of-aus
A collection of one-shots set in an AU world where the boys are porn stars working for stark entertainment.
╰┈➤ Love me harder by @celestialbarnes
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
summary: you and bucky have been flirting and screwing around for months now, after seeing him getting frisky with someone else, you decide to do the same and bucky’s just about had enough.
╰┈➤ CherrixKisses by @metalbuckaroo
AU// Roommate!Bucky x Camgirl!Reader
SUMMARY// At 3am, every Sunday, Bucky locks his bedroom door to watch his favorite camgirl. What's to happen when he finds out he's much closer to her than leaving generous tips on her videos?
╰┈➤ When it All Falls Apart by @barnesafterglow
Pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader
Summary: The fate of the universe was in your hands. Bucky and you had been sent to retrieve the soul stone, a seemingly simple task. Unbeknownst to you, there was a hefty price to pay for such an exchange. You’re able to return to Earth, but it’s soon apparent part of you was left in Vormir.
╰┈➤ Reward by @invisibleanonymousmonsters
Summary: Bucky gets reminded of his time as the Winter Soldier. Only this time, he’s forced to face the victim of his assault.
Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader
╰┈➤ Wolf, Partner, Gloves… by @revengingbarnes
Summary: HYDRA’s words make Bucky go into Winter Soldier mode. Then he meets you, and you make for him words that will bring him back to normal.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Basically, just read everything on her masterlist!
╰┈➤ Gaslighting by @sebystann
Description: After a decade-long friendship y/n confesses her feelings for Bucky to only be let down. He’s so confusing when he’s fucking her in the bathroom of one of his best friends Steve’s house.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader
╰┈➤ let me love you by @sebystann
Description: She believes no one can truly love her… because she made terrible mistakes in the past. But Bucky wants to love her, he wants to show her how it feels to be loved.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
╰┈➤ closure by @sebystann
Description: Bucky never told y/n how he truly felt about her.
Summary: loosely, based on ‘Cruel World’ by Lana Del Rey, everything goes wrong when you spot your psycho ex bf at a New Year’s Eve party.
A/n ✎: Thank you so much for 100 followers! Ahhhh!!!! I’m so glad you guys are enjoying my work, I recommend listening to the song ofc but you don’t have too. Bold and italics are flashback. Enjoy <333
Wc: just under 3k
18+ MINORS DNI, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED
“Does anyone know where I put my eyeliner?” Your friend Nora asked you, as well as your other friend Violet.
You were all getting ready for some New Year's Eve party at Nora's boyfriend's house; everyone would be home from college for winter break, so you were excited to see all the people you went to high school with.
“No, but I know where the vodka is!” Violet chuckled,
“Come on, let's all take a shot!” Violet continued as she made her way over to you.
“Come on, y/n, are you going to pout all night? He might not even be there.” the brunette expressed as she sat beside you, bottle in hand.
She was referring to your ex, Rafe Cameron, and you knew for almost a fact that he would be there. Nora's boyfriend happened to be his best friend, Topper, and you and Rafe hadn't exactly ended on the best terms. The two of you had been broken up for about a month and a half; for the first two weeks, he would not stop texting and calling you, profusely apologizing, saying things like, ‘I'll go to therapy.’ ‘give me another chance.’ ‘I'll be better.’
It got so annoying that you had to block him; obviously, that wouldn't stop him. The thing was, Rafe was fucking crazy; he would always find a way to get to you, and if he didn't, he simply didn't want to.
“He's going to be there.” You said with a sign, “I'm just going to get fucked up, ignore him, and hopefully get some dick tonight.”
“That's the spirit!” Violet said as you tilted your head back, and she poured the vodka down your throat.
“Are you kidding me?” Your boyfriend asked you in a harsh tone as he stalked toward you.
“What?” you respond as you tried to take a wobbly few steps back.
His eyes narrowed at you, and his eyebrows furrowed.
“Well, aside from the clown makeup,” Rafe said, referring to your red lipstick.
“How many times do I have to tell you I don't like that dress?” Rafe interrogated as he roughly grabbed your waist.
“How many fucking times, y/n?” the blonde shook your body roughly. “For you to get it through your thick fucking skull?”
You were silent, frozen almost; whenever Rafe got violent, you didn't know how to react. You didn't fight; you didn't try to run; you stood wide-eyed in shock because if you did respond the wrong way, you knew it would make things 10x worse than they already were.
“Huh?” He asked you, shaking your body roughly again, waiting for you to respond.
“I- I don't know.” You mumbled weakly.
“You don't know,” he mocked with a dry humorless laugh.
“Go and change. Red looks trashy on you.” He stated before letting go of you with a harsh push into the wall.
All your friends knew that Rafe was bad, but they certainly didn't know how bad he was. You were so good at hiding it, concealer, color corrector, foundation, you name it; if it could cover a bruise, you had it. Every story you told them about your fights with Rafe were very watered down, and because of that, no one knew how truly scared you were to run into Rafe at this party. Not in an ‘Oh, no, my ex!’ way more in a ‘he might kill me way.’ But with every shot you took, you felt your fear start to fade slowly, and when you arrived at the party five shots in, in your little red party dress, you felt way more confident than you should have.
Your arm linked with Violet’s as your friend Nora lost the two of you to find her boyfriend. You and Violet stumbled through the house, passing through groups of people, trying your best to find the drink table.
“By the way, I love your dress,” Violet approved, looking you up and down. “Red is your color.”
“Thank you!” you smiled, taking the compliment to heart; she didn't know just how much that meant to you; you hadn't worn red since Rafe had told you it was ‘trashy’ on you.
“Fuck, is the Britney Smith?” Violet giggled, pointing at the short blonde girl.
“Isnt she pregnant?” you wondered as your eyes fell on the drink table.
“Oh my god, look who's right next to the drinks,” Violet says before covering her mouth with her hand.
“Is that Alex?” you replied, squinting your eyes to get a better look.
Violet nodded in response, eyes wide with excitement.
“Go talk to him!” you smiled at her. “I'll sit right over there,” you said, pointing at the elegant velvet couch.
As you sat on the couch, you couldn't stop thinking about Rafe. Your anxiety slowly started to rise, and you regretted every choice you made up to this point. First of all, you and Rafe had ended on horrible terms; second of all, you came to a party that you knew he would most likely be at, and now you are all alone and a little more drunk than you'd like to be.
You couldn't stop thinking back to that day, your breaking point, the last fight you had with Rafe before you ended things for good.
“Why are you following John B on Instagram?” Your boyfriend asked you as he looked up from his phone.
The question confused you a bit; you honestly didn't even know you were following him in the first place.
“I don't know?” you replied with a shrug. “Probably was an accident; maybe Sarah tagged him in something or-”
“Was it an accident when you smiled at him the other day at the wreck?” he cut you off.
Was he serious right now? John B had waved at you, and you simply smiled in return. You were just being nice; it was nothing more than that.
“Rafe, I-” You were going into very dangerous territory, and you knew that, even though Rafe was physically attractive, he was very insecure, which showed a lot in your relationship.
“If it's another bullshit excuse, I don't want to hear it,” he scolded as he stalked towards you.
He wasn't even giving you the chance to defend yourself, and frankly, it was pissing you off even more than his stupid questions.
“Rafe, I don't even know what you're talking about; I literally-” you plead with your boyfriend, taking a step back for every step he took forward.
“Of course you ‘Dont know,’ you never do.” Rafe hissed at you, moving closer and closer.
“That's what you do; you act all fucking innocent and then sneak around behind my back.” the blonde accused.
“Do you think I'm stupid?” He sneered, backing you against the wall.
That was the final straw; now he was accusing you of cheating from a simple smile and an Instagram follow. I mean, how delusional could he be?
“Are you fucking crazy?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed.
You could tell he was shocked at your response by the way his eyebrows arched upwards slightly, but you could also tell you pissed him off by the way his jaw ticked.
“What did you say to me?” He asked; he heard you loud and clear the first time; he just wanted to see if you had the guts to repeat it.
“Are you fucking crazy? I follow him on Instagram. So what? I can unfollow him if it's a problem.” you argued, shocked that this was even an issue.
Rafe's hand shot forward without warning, delivering a sharp slap to your face. Time momentarily slowed as the impact echoed through the room. As the sting of the slap registered, a deep sadness clouded your features. You hated to say it, but you were used to rafe hurting you.
“Who do you think you're talking to?” Rafe asked you. Blue eyes are darker than their everyday shade.
“Huh?” He scoffed, laughing slightly.
“Calling me crazy…talking to me like I'm the one in the wrong?” your boyfriend shouted as he snatched a big chuck of your hair, gripping it tight enough to bring tears to your eyes.
“Rafe, I-” you tried to defend yourself as tears clouded your vision.
“No, I'm talking now.” His voice boomed as he screamed in your ear.
Rafe slammed your head against the wall behind you, using your hair as leverage; at this point, your ears were ringing, your head was banging, and you couldn't speak from the pain alone. And Rafe just kept going on and on about how important trust is in a relationship, but how could you even listen when he was gripping your hair so tight? But obviously, Rafe didn't see this as punishment enough because he dragged you by the hair to his closet, and even as he rustled through his sock drawer, clearly looking for something, he didn't once let go of your hair.
“Rafe! Stop-” You were cut off by the feeling of ice gold metal pressed against your temple; you were completely frozen, not knowing what to do; there was no way your boyfriend was pressing a gun against your head over an Instagram follow.
“If you even look at john b again, your fucking dead.” Rafe threatened coldly.
Your heart was racing; Rafe was impulsive knowing him; you could breathe the wrong way, and he would pull the trigger. That didn't stop your breath from fasting and your tears from falling, though.
“You hear me?” he asked, pulling your hair back just enough to make eye contact.
You didn't say anything; you had been sobbing ever since you felt the metal against your head in the first place.
“Do you hear me?” He shook you, demanding an answer, “I will fucking kill you.”
“Yes!” you cried out, hoping and praying for him to put the gun down and let go of you.
And when you left his house that night, you had never returned. Rafe did have his good moments, but was he worth your life? You broke up with him over text the following day, and you hadn't seen him since.
Since today, as soon as you looked up from your lap, lost in thought, you made eye contact with Rafe. You felt sick when you saw him; you knew he would be here, but you weren't expecting to see him this soon.
You stood up, making your way through the separate groups of people; you needed to find somewhere you could be by yourself because right now, you felt like you might have a panic attack.
“Excuse me,” you repeated over and over as you drunkenly stumbled to the stairs. No one was upstairs, other than maybe a few people hooking up, but other than that, it was pretty empty. You looked for a room, apologizing when you opened the door to see Nora and Topper making out. You stumbled through the halls until you found an empty room, sighing in relief as you closed the door behind you.
Your relief was short-lived because you didn't realize that Rafe was following behind you the entire time, and when he entered the room, you instantly regretted isolating yourself from the rest of the party and your friends.
“No.” you panicked, anxiety rising deep within your stomach.
He was intentionally standing in front of the door. There was no way out.
“Hey, Listen, y/n-,” Rafe said calmly, trying to calm you down.
“No! Get away from me!” you interrupted words slurring, not wanting to hear a thing from him.
You had no desire to speak to Rafe, not after all he had put you through in your relationship, not after you had been in therapy for the past month to heal the pain he had caused you. He wasn't just a regular ex, Rafe was fucking crazy, and you both knew it; you knew he was waiting to see you in person again, probably planning it, planning out exactly how he was going to get you back and what he was going to do if you declined his offer.
“Can you just listen to me!?” he snapped at you, slightly losing his calm demeanor. “I just want to talk-” He said through his teeth, walking over to you and away from the door.
“Well, I don't want to talk!” you barely even knew what you were saying; your head was spinning, and you regretted every shot you had taken earlier.
“So that's how it's gonna be, huh?” Rafe mumbled to himself more than you, fist clenching as he spoke.
As he got closer and closer, the room seemed easier and easier to escape; you knew you couldn't scream for help because of the loud music banging throughout the house; no one would hear you, and you knew you couldn't put up the best fight because you were drunk and Rafe’s also way stronger than you, he had proved this time and time again.
So you took the opportunity to run for the door while you still could. But two steps in, Rafe had already caught you and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly against his stiff chest.
“I didn't want to make this complicated.” he hissed into your ear. “But come on, y/n, it's almost like you want me to hurt you.”
You thrashed your body, wiggling side to side, trying to escape his grip.
“You’re fucking crazy!” You shouted as you continued to attempt to free yourself.
“Yes! I'm crazy,” Your ex admitted as his grip around you tightened, and his nostrils flared. “I'm crazy for you.” he dug his nails into your side.
“Get off of me!” you cried out, voice raw with emotion.
“You come to my best friend's party wearing the fucking dress I hate! Knowing I'm going to be here!” he criticized, pushing your body towards the bed. “It's almost like you want me to take it off.”
“Rafe, stop, I-” you were cut off by Rafe throwing you on the bed and wrapping his hands around your throat as he hovered over you.
“Shut the fuck up!” He sneered, looking down at you with dark eyes.
“You fucking left me!” His grip got tighter the more he spoke. “Not even a call, but a fucking text.” he scolded. “Do I really mean that little to you?”
You didn't end things the way you did because you didn't care about Rafe; you cared about Rafe so much, more than you ever wanted to, and that hurt; throughout everything he's done to you, all the pain he's caused you, you still cared. You broke up with Rafe over text because you were terrified; he had threatened to kill you over an Instagram follow; you couldn't imagine what he would have done if you dared to break up with him in person.
But you couldn't say any of that because he was choking you so hard that you couldn't breathe, let alone speak; all you could do was hit his hands repeatedly, hoping he would let go.
“You didn't care about my feelings. Why should I care about yours?” He asked you, looking deeply into your bloodshot, teary eyes with his blue angry ones.
Your mind was racing; Rafe was actually going to kill you. You saw this day coming many times throughout your relationship, but you didn't expect it to happen when you guys were finished. You had shared your body, your mind, everything with him, and you had been happy it was over; you finally were starting to feel like yourself again. But now he was going to take that all away from you.
Rafe finally let go when he started to see your eyes roll back as you started to lose consciousness.
You gasped for air in between coughs as you held your throat, desperate to soothe it from the pain he caused with his harsh grip. You had accepted death. You knew exactly who you were dealing with, and the thought of him killing you over a breakup wasn't too far-fetched.
“You have a lot of making-up to do after the stunt you pulled last month,” Rafe sighed as if he was inconvenienced by what he was doing to you.
The stunt you pulled? Your break up was serious, and for a good reason; he was lucky you hadn't called the police; if anyone had pulled a ‘stunt,’ it was him. He had pulled a series of stunts throughout your whole relationship. He was pulling one now.
Before you knew it, Rafe was tugging at your dress, attempting to pull it off you. If there was one thing you weren't doing, it was going down without a fight. You tried your best to kick him and scratch him, everything, but you were drunk, had just been choked, and Rafe was much stronger than you, so he pinned your wrist above your head with one hand and pulled the bottom of your dress up with the other.
“Remember this, y/n,” He said as he positioned himself up against your cunt. “Remember this feeling the next time you think about trying to leave.” He taunted before pushing into you roughly.
As he thrusted into you repeatedly at a rough and harsh pace, you sobbed. You thought Rafe was behind you; you told yourself you would never let a man hurt you the way he did again. You were so happy when he was gone.
“Fuck, take this off,” Rafe moaned as he pulled your dress over your head.
With every hash thrust, your cries got louder. Rafe didn't care about your pleasure or even his; he wanted to hurt you; he wanted to see your tear-stained face. This was your punishment, and he was succeeding. The only thing you felt between your legs was severe pain.
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” you heard everyone downstairs scream in unison.
“Happy New Year,” Rafe smirked as he pulled you in for a rough, sloppy kiss.
[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!Rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression
18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
SUMMARY: Years after his father's death, Rafe returns to Tannyhill a new man with more power than he could have ever previously imagined. You're the missing piece to him finally feeling like the king of Figure 8, and Rafe acquires you, his Kook princess, in a sinister way. Still, he's determined to give you the perfect life. All you have to do is be a good little girl.
part one
part two
part three
He's so pretty when he... @sayscomeherebabydoll - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
