I wrote this for @mariessecretfantasies’ 500 follower challenge, took me forever but it’s done!! congrats on 500 love, although I bet (and hope) you’re well past that now.
my ‘prompt’ was a song, specifically Closer by Nine Inch Nails… so it’s filthy. purely filth, no plot. don’t say I didn’t warn you. special thanks to @evnscvll for the proofread!
warnings: SMUT of course, mild(?) dub con, d/s dynamics, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal sex, anal sex (and the prep is...not that good), ass-to-mouth (i’m literally blushing as I type this oml i’m so sorry), mentions of blood, slapping, spitting, degradation, semi-public sex, pain kink, and some other generally unhygienic behaviors… this isn’t a dark fic per se but it’s got 0 fluff. not even one ounce of fluff detected. definitely no aftercare lmao. ain’t nobody got time for that.
word count: a bit under 3k
He couldn’t drink anymore-- well, he could, but he couldn’t get drunk, so there was no use. Couldn’t get high on any drug, either. Pain didn’t affect him the way it did other people. But everybody has their vice, their way of hurting themselves to feel something when they can’t feel anything else. You were his, and he was yours.
You couldn’t even remember now how it started. There was definitely alcohol involved, but past that you weren’t sure what had compelled you two to stumble into bed together. Even at the time you had realized it was irresponsible and probably not worth the trouble, but it seemed inevitable in some weird way.
That was how it always felt, actually. Like tonight, when he met your gaze from across the bar. His eyes were so dark, demanding-- it made you shiver even though it only lasted for a moment before he looked away, pulled into conversation with Bruce. But you knew what it meant.
Didn’t matter anyhow; it was a big party, the whole crew and nearly all of the Tower staff were crawling the halls. There was no guarantee of privacy at a time like this.
You were chatting with Wanda when you felt a hand slip around your arm, pulling you back into somebody’s form-- of course you knew it was him, you could tell by the roughness of his skin, the smell of him, the way he pressed against your back…
“Can I speak to you privately for a moment?” Bucky requested with poorly-suppressed irritation, his lips almost pressed against your ear.
“S-sure,” you stumbled over your response. You got the sense that there wouldn’t be much speaking, but you couldn’t turn him down in front of these people without giving yourself away.
And that was how you ended up in a broom closet, pressed against the wall with his tongue dominating your mouth and his hands somehow feeling like they were touching you everywhere all at once.
“Buck, wait,” you managed to murmur against his mouth as his lips crashed into yours.
“Tired of waiting,” he growled in reply. “Turn around.”
You didn’t even think to question it, just obeyed his command blindly as he slammed you into the wall and began pushing your dress up, pulling your underwear aside.
“Not here,” you groaned.
“Shut up,” he hissed.
The absolute second that his cock was free he was shoving it between your legs and fucking you with unmatched speed and ferocity. It nearly burned, the way it forced you open, but it was exactly what you needed. You arched your back to accept his length more easily, your head falling back in pleasure. He responded by grabbing your hair and pulling it until your back arched even more.
“Oh god, Bucky,” you whimpered. In response, he slammed his hand over your mouth and fucked you even harder, as if it were punishment; he didn’t like when you said his name in times like this. He didn’t want to think about who he was, or who you were, or what the two of you were doing. He just wanted to feel you and nothing else.
Funny how a man who’d been unwillingly brainwashed actually craved the chance to forget.
His other hand moved from your hair and slipped down between your legs, roughly rubbing your clit as your hips bucked and thrashed in response. He held you still through it, biting down on your neck hard enough to make you worry about the skin breaking. But he knew by now that you liked the threat of pain, which is why he slipped his left hand down from your mouth to your neck. The sound of your breath halting to silence was so perfect that he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning.
Already your vision was spotting into darkness, starting at the corner of your eyes and moving in. As you lost your connection with the visual aspects of your reality, everything else became stronger, and it felt like you were somehow seeing better than ever.
He stopped thrusting and leaned closer to your ear. “When I let go of your neck,” he explained quietly, his voice dark and rough, “get on the floor on your hands and knees.”
He released his grip and your lungs sucked in air faster than they could handle, making you cough and sputter a little. Still, you turned around to begin following his instructions. You got a better look at him than you had before. His eyes were so blown out that they were nearly black, watching you with hungry rage. Or maybe it was raging hunger.
You felt his gaze follow you as you stepped around him, bending down and getting on the floor. It was cold and a little bit gritty, both of which made you shudder. You became aware of the wetness which had leaked from your opening, smeared over your thighs and made an uncomfortable patch on the edge of your panties. You didn’t have to worry about that much longer, though, as he kneeled behind you and ripped them off.
“Buck, I need those--”
He slapped your ass, with the vibranium hand. It was so hard that you perceived the sound before your body processed the pain. As you lurched forward, your squeal of pain tore and cracked in your throat, so much that you could barely recognize it as yourself.
One hand slid your dress up further, admiring the warmth and smoothness of your skin, two fingers running along your spine; the other guided his cock to your pussy again.
You weren’t quite ready, not exactly wet or warmed up enough for this angle. You were sure this was the most your body could take, if not a little bit more. The way he pushed into you-- ignoring the resistance of your inner walls, your skin breaking out into goosebumps, your arms and legs quivering-- put you entirely at his mercy. Just as you were about to cry out in response to it all, he roughly shoved three fingers into your mouth: flesh, sweaty and dirty, tasting slightly of scotch and gun oil. They pushed your cheeks out from the inside, stretched your chapped lips until they cracked and you tasted blood. You swirled your tongue around them anyways, ignoring the way it caused drool to lewdly drip down his hand and your chin.
He smiled, in a twisted way, as he looked down at you. “You need it so bad, don’t you?”
You nodded feverishly, groaning around his fingers and letting your eyes flutter shut.
He used the hand on your back to guide your movements, watching your body as it swallowed his length to the base. He could tell you were struggling with his size, and he was almost impressed with your fortitude. Unfortunately for you, it only made him want to push you further.
Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he grabbed your arms at your elbow and held them behind your back, using them to keep you upright as he slammed into you. Each thrust made your knees scrape on the concrete, and your shoulders were twisted into an awkward position that made your muscles burn, but you didn’t care. All it did was add tinder to the flame of pleasure.
Tears stung the back of your eyes. You always cried when he fucked you like this, and he either didn’t care or didn’t notice; it was just so intense, you couldn’t stop yourself. You would probably be bleeding when he was finally done with you, and you would definitely be sore (on the outside and inside) tomorrow.
“Gonna cry, bitch? Can’t take it?” he hissed. You always got wet when he talked like that. Then again, you got wet whenever he talked at all.
Your voice came out hoarse and cracked when you spoke. “Harder,” you barely managed to grit out through your teeth.
Instead what he did was pull out and flip you over, slapping you straight across the face. There was nowhere to hide from him now, with your legs spread and your clothes torn to shreds, so you didn’t even try to suppress the moan when he hit you. He grunted and hit you again, spinning your face the other way. You wanted to ask him to hit you again but he just shoved himself inside you again, putting his weight on your neck as he wrapped a hand around it. You couldn’t moan but you could arch your back; he pushed down on your stomach until you couldn’t do that anymore either, and it forced your g-spot to push right into his cock. You would’ve screamed if you could; it felt so fucking good, too good, too much all at once.
Who could say how long that went on for? It didn’t feel subject to time or space, it all just felt like sensation-- sensation which washed over you until you didn’t know how to experience anything else. So often our bodies feel like machines, slaves to routine. A body which must rise in the morning, rest in the evening; a mind which must toil over the past and worry for the future. Now, you didn’t even know your own name-- you didn’t even understand what a name was for. Your only purpose now, and your only goal, was to feel.
That was what you craved about this: the chance to forget about everything else.
At some point you were pulled back into reality by the way he was manhandling you, tossing you back onto your knees and pulling your body flush with his by your hair.
“Beg me to let you come,” he growled, but you couldn’t even think long enough to put a sentence together, let alone actually get it out. He bit down on your shoulder and you whimpered in pain.
“P-please,” you sighed-- it came out so quiet that even you could barely hear it. His teeth sunk in deeper; you tried to say it again but it was caught in your throat.
He pulled your head to the side by your hair, and slapped the half that was exposed. “Beg me to let you come,” he repeated, slower, “you dumb fucking whore.”
“Please… please, let me come,” you mumbled.
“Louder.”
You hesitated, about to remind him that the hallways outside probably had people passing through and someone might hear you, but your hesitation was rewarded only with more violence as he hit you again-- even harder than the last time. You yelped and bit down on your lip.
You hadn’t realized how weak you were until he let go and you instantly fell to the floor, your hips held up by his hands but your face pressed against the cold cement.
“You can come,” he decided, almost flippantly, as he fucked into you deeper and harder. It seemed like he knew your body better than you did: he made you come faster, for one, and he saw it coming sooner as well. It was slightly embarrassing, but then again, you were on your knees in a broom closet so that was sort of beside the point.
It seemed to hit you all at once, and with no sign of stopping. You reached up to claw at the wall but it did nothing to keep you stable as shocks reverberated through your body. You were about to space out again when you felt the metal tip of his thumb press against your tighter rim.
“W-wait,” you gasped, but he pressed in further and your words were lost to a whimper.
“Oh, you can’t play innocent with me, sweetheart. I know you want me to fuck this little ass. Go ahead, say it.”
“F-fuck my ass, please,” you begged. It sounded shameless, but there was certainly shame (and fear) tingling in your gut.
The thumb pushed in all the way, and before you could deal with the way that felt, it was replaced with two fingers. You hissed from the sting, but willed your body to relax as you fell back into that headspace and simply let everything happen to you.
The transition from two to three fingers was barely noticeable. But you definitely noticed when he pulled everything out of you, guiding the head of his cock higher up. He moved your hips closer as you went limp in his grasp-- a drooling, mindless fuckdoll who, apparently, spread your legs for him whenever he wanted. It was some undefinable mixture of demeaning and liberating.
His cock pressed against your opening, and when it finally pushed past the tightness with a nauseating pop, you bit your lip.
You almost felt prideful when you heard him moan; he was usually pretty quiet. How you managed to feel any sense of achievement or value when you were face down in a broom closet getting fucked up the ass… that was a different issue.
He didn’t give you much time to adjust as he picked up his speed, fucking you so much gentler than he ever did but still rougher than you were expecting, somehow. Each time he was buried all the way inside, you felt like you were miles beyond your body’s limits, fuller and wider than was possible. It made you wet, uselessly.
When he moved faster, his balls slapped against your pussy and you could hear how much you were loving this, even as disgusting and painful as it was. He leaned forward to push your face into the ground and fucked you harder. The new angle pushed him even deeper, opened you up even more brutally, and you couldn’t suppress a cry of pain.
“How’s it feel, huh?” he taunted.
“It hurts,” you told him with a voice much whinier than you intended, but you weren’t exactly complaining. And you definitely weren’t asking him to stop.
Not that you were worried that he would. If anything, it only inspired him to push you further as he grabbed your hips tight to slam you back onto his cock.
He didn’t announce that he was close, but you could just barely tell based on the way your hazy brain couldn’t ignore the rapid increase in his thrusts. A broken growl was your signal that he was filling you with come but you were too numb to feel any difference. He kept fucking you through it, only stopping once every drop was inside you. When he slowed to a stop you sighed with relief, wincing a little as he pulled out and trying to ignore the lewd way that your hole flexed and constricted. You felt his come leaking as it dripped down over your pussy, down your thighs and onto the floor.
The smell in this cramped space was inescapable, and putrid, and only now did you really become aware of it.
“Don’t just lay there,” he scoffed as he stood up, “come over here and get on your knees.”
At this point, you were so well-trained that you were obeying his words before you’d even processed them or taken the time to question what his intentions were.
You looked up at him with watery eyes as he stroked his cock right above your face. He was looking at you with the most uninterpretable expression… cold eyes, tightened jaw, lips curled into a grimace.
“Clean me off,” he demanded, shoving his softening length into your mouth, “come on, clean my cock off.”
You grimaced but did as he asked, sucking and licking as it slid down your tongue and back into your throat. Didn’t take much of him for you to start choking, considering his size.
“Breathe through your nose,” he offered as a solution, but you had been trying to avoid smelling or tasting it. You didn’t even want to think about it.
You even took the time to lick his balls clean, too, and they tasted like your own arousal, bringing back some memories which managed to disturb you in spite of their recentness. When he was satisfied, he pushed you back onto the floor by your throat, and you swallowed thickly.
As per usual, he said nothing as he stuffed himself back into his jeans, or as he made a hasty exit. When he shut the door behind him, you were left there used up and tossed aside; dress ruined, mascara smeared, panties torn, come seeping out of you, gasping for breath. You had no plan for getting out of here without everyone seeing you; you had no plan for getting out of this sick, addictive cycle with him. In the meantime, you would sit in the empty room and wait for the blood flow to return to your numbed extremities, wait for the aftershocks of arousal and orgasm to subside, and let yourself bask in the comfort of the dark.
Summary: As the newest Avenger, you lead a stress-filled life. Not only are you juggling the pressures of a new career and new fame, but also new teammates. In particular, James Barnes is an... unsettling character. Are you misjudging James, or should you have reason to be wary of him?
Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Word Count: ~11.5k (I’m so sorry)
Warnings: language, yandere, deceit, manipulation, Bucky is delusional, POV shifts, SMUT 18+ (vaginal sex), NON-CON (details at end of fic)
Prompt: “It's only just a crush, it'll go away. It's just like all the others it'll go away. Or maybe this is danger and you just don't know? You pray it all away but it continues to grow.” ‘Tear You Apart’ - She Wants Revenge
A/N: Hello! So, a big yikes to how obnoxiously long this is. This turned out way differently and much longer than I anticipated, but c’est la vie, I guess. Anywho, this is written for @mariessecretfantasies 500 Follower Writing Challenge! Congrats on your followers, Marie! Tbh, there’s a lot of POV shifts in this, but it shouldn’t get too confusing (I hope). And while I normally like to be transparent with my warnings, in order to avoid spoilers, I have included detailed warnings at the end of the fic. So, if you need to, please scroll to the bottom to read them before continuing. As a general disclaimer: I DO NOT condone the actions depicted below. To any and everyone who reads this, I hope you enjoy!
-The first day-
You take your initial steps into the Compound, feeling the tension roll off you in waves. If you weren’t already nervous for your first day, then the 50 photographers outside would’ve definitely put you on edge. While you made it through the swarm of paparazzi easily enough, you know it’s only a fraction of the attention and invasion of privacy you’ve yet to experience as the newest Avenger.
Finally away from the flashing cameras, you’re allowed a brief moment of respite. But soon enough, that’s also snatched from you – being quickly surrounded by your new teammates; at least these people are more hospitable than the vultures outside.
You go down the line of bodies, shaking everyone’s hand in turn. While you know all of their names and backgrounds, this is their first introduction to you. Not wanting to make a bad first impression – heaven forbid the first thing Earth’s mightiest heroes meet is your raging nerves – you try putting on a brave face. If anybody notices your anxiety, they’re mum about it.
Everyone’s very friendly, congratulating and welcoming you in spades. Their words are seemingly genuine, but you’re sure some of it is just a formality – just a monotonous procedure they endure for your sake. It’s as you meet a certain super-soldier that you encounter a greeting differing from everyone else’s warm affection.
“Pleasure to meet you,” you shake James Barnes’ hand, thankful your voice doesn’t tremble.
He says nothing in return – simply stares at you, eyes burning with some unknown emotion. His silence coupled with the intensity of his gaze is slightly unsettling. It’s almost difficult to maintain eye contact with him, making you furrow your brow in discomfort.
With him offering no response to your greeting, you make to move onto the next introduction. But before you can let go of his hand, James stops you – tightening his grip. The action startles you. You quickly dart your eyes down to your conjoined hands before meeting his gaze again.
He shakes his head minutely, replacing that severe stare with a lopsided grin. “I’m Bucky. And please, the pleasure’s all mine,” he laughs, albeit a tad awkwardly – almost like the action is foreign to him.
You give him a disingenuous chuckle in return, feeling more perturbed than amused.
“I look forward to getting to know you better,” he admits. Though he still has that boyish grin on his face, the conviction of his tone tells you he means every word.
“Mhmm,” you hum, unenthusiastically returning his sentiment. Something about him just rubs you the wrong way, and you’re not entirely keen on becoming close to him.
Finally, he releases your hand from his grasp. Your fingers tingle as you feel the blood rush back into them.
That was strange, you think, moving to greet the next person.
~~~~~
-Ten minutes earlier-
The second he sees her, Bucky is utterly captivated. He’s been smitten in the past – Dolores in the 30′s, Natasha when he first joined the team, and so on – but those previous feelings had never hit him so strongly; none had arrested his every thought and movement before.
She literally takes his breath away, striking him dumb and mute. Bucky watches her intently, eagerly anticipating his first interaction with her. As their hands touch, he can tell she’s just as excited to meet him as he is her – her clammy palm frigid against his overheated one.
Her handshake is a bit weak – reserved, almost. Poor girl, he thinks. She's as timid as a mouse. While Bucky is usually drawn to more self-assured women, there’s just something so endearing about her bashfulness.
He watches her lips move gracefully as she speaks – her words registering somewhere in the back of his mind, but he doesn’t pay much attention to them. Her brow furrows slightly as an indecipherable emotion crosses her face.
She starts to pull her hand away from his and Bucky panics, realizing he hasn’t yet introduced himself. He holds onto her, wanting to start things off on the right foot.
“I’m Bucky. And please, the pleasure’s all mine,” he drawls. While it doesn’t come as easily as it used to, sometimes Bucky’s able to slip back into that old Brooklyn charm; the ladies used to love that back in the day.
Judging by her melodious laugh, he knows that’s done the trick.
“I look forward to getting to know you better,” he says earnestly.
Through their connected hands, Bucky can feel her heartbeat pick up exponentially – the speed rivalling that of a small rodent’s. She hums in response, just as elated to get to know him as he is her.
After he lets her hand go, Bucky feels his fingers tingle – missing the feeling of her skin against his.
Why has this mousy girl gotten me all flustered? He thinks, watching her continue down the line.
~*~*~*~*~
-Five weeks in-
Your nerves are absolutely fried. Those first few weeks at the Compound were the most stressful of your entire life. Not only are you facing the pressures of a new job, new fame, and countless new responsibilities, but there’s also another reason for your growing anxiety.
Much to your dismay, James has become your own personal shadow.
It started innocuously. On several occasions after you entered a room, James was soon to follow. He kept his distance – never sat very close or seriously tried to join in on conversations with the team; he usually just stared from his spot in the corner. While his watchfulness unnerved you a bit, you tried letting it slide.
Supposedly, James was still getting used to interacting with others – his time as the Winter Soldier apparently having done a number on his social skills. Thus, you figured you’d just leave him to his own devices.
So when he suddenly started offering to help you on random tasks, you were caught off guard. Because the tasks were menial – paperwork, workouts, cleaning, etc. – you didn’t think it would do any harm to have a little company, even if it was James. Thus, you humored his requests – assuming he was finally coming out of his shell.
He warmed up to you right away. In fact, he started going out of his way to be around you – always close by in case you needed help with something. It came to be that any time you entered a room, James was right on your footsteps – as eager as ever to assist you.
While you were initially reluctant to get on closer terms with James, you thought maybe getting to know him would be a good thing; maybe you’d start warming up to him like he warmed up to you.
In actuality, you found the opposite happening.
Though he was being very kind and helpful, his ever-lingering presence was – truthfully – creepy. And the way he looked at you – like you hung all the stars in the sky – made you incredibly uncomfortable.
You tried putting some distance between you two. You called him by his formal name rather than his nickname, hoping he’d get the hint that you two weren’t friends. Unfortunately, that metaphorical barrier did little to stop his insistence on becoming familiar with you.
“Would you like to get dinner with me sometime?” James asked, giving you an intense look.
Shit. You should’ve seen this coming. It was obvious James had something akin to a crush on you; you just hoped it wouldn’t have amounted to anything more than a distant fondness. Apparently, he had other plans in mind.
“Oh, I’m sorry James,” you tried giving him your most pitiful look, “I have a rule: I don’t date colleagues.”
You were lying. It had nothing to do with the principle of dating a coworker, and everything to do with the coworker in question.
By his crestfallen expression, you could tell he was disappointed. While you did feel some sympathy for James, your uneasy feeling towards him outweighed any desire to want to get closer to him.
After you declined his invitation, James backed off a bit – giving you some space. He didn’t stay that way for very long, though. Soon enough, he picked up right where he left off: following closely after you, consistently invading your personal space, and always staring at you.
Thus, dealing with the James situation along with the everyday stress of your job has severely impacted your mental health. But, in not wanting to burden anyone with your troubles – terribly afraid you’ll be chastised for any perceived weaknesses – you’ve tried keeping your anxiety under wraps. Unfortunately, that’s only caused it to fester as the days pass.
At night, your nerves are so amped up that you’re jittery – finding it difficult to sit still and nearly impossible to fall asleep. Then come morning, your lack of sleep leaves you drained and fatigued throughout the day. The pendulum swinging between insomnia and exhaustion has started taking its toll on you.
Not only are you physically exhausted, but your mind is also weary. You’ve begun having serious self-doubts – wondering if you’re really cut out for the Avengers; if you’re actually as strong and capable as people believe you to be; if you aren’t just a fraud.
Your downwards spiraling thoughts plague you day in and day out. You aren’t sure how much longer you can handle the pressure; how much longer you can live this lifestyle; how much longer you can keep up the charade.
~~~~~
-Five weeks in-
Bucky has fallen head first in love. He hadn’t meant to. He thought she was just another fleeting infatuation that he’d get over soon enough. Boy was he dead wrong.
Truthfully, though, how could he not fall in love with his little mouse? She’s beautiful, beaming, mesmerizing, perfect. And every little thing he discovers about her makes him fall that much more under her spell.
Bucky loves her laugh – it being the sweetest song he’s ever heard. He adores how her nose occasionally scrunches: when she’s frustrated, when she laughs at Sam’s raunchy jokes, when she’s deeply focused. He admires how her fingernails are always pristinely polished, but chuckles at how her toenails are always chipped. He even finds the scar on the back of her thigh charming despite it marring her otherwise perfection.
While she’s the mouse, it seems he’s the one that’s been ensnared.
Her aura is so enchanting that Bucky can’t keep himself away. He stays close to her – making sure he doesn’t miss any opportunity to hear that laugh, see that smile, or discover any previously unknown traits of hers.
When he saw her start to become flustered a few weeks ago, Bucky knew he had to take action. Like a true gentleman, he offered up his services to help ease her load. Much to his delight, she happily accepted the help and Bucky found himself even closer to her than before.
The two of them became inseparable. She even came up with her own unique way of referring to him – something to differentiate her from everyone else. As things started really picking up between them, Bucky began hoping for more.
“Would you like to get dinner with me sometime?” Bucky questioned, a charming smile painting his lips.
While Bucky was confident they were both willing and ready for their relationship to progress beyond friendship, he had to be the one to take charge – his little mouse naturally too timid to make the first move.
She frowned, giving him a forlorn look. “Oh, I’m sorry James,” she used her special name for him, “I have a rule: I don’t date colleagues.”
Bucky’s mood immediately fell, hope crushed into oblivion. He was sure he hadn’t misread her signals – her similar longing for there to be more between them. But if she had this rule in place, she wouldn’t have led him on all this time, right?
Bucky was uncertain. He wasn’t sure what to think anymore, apart from one definite truth: her confession had left him devastated.
Bucky kept his distance for a few days, unsure of how to proceed. While he still dearly loved his mouse, he didn’t know if he could continue staying in such close proximity to her – continue yearning for more when he knew he’d never have it.
But try as he might, Bucky found himself being drawn back to her irresistible qualities. So, at the risk of harming his own heart, he decided to return to her side. Though she started politely declining his help – seemingly able to handle things on her own – Bucky didn’t mind the small separation between them. He’d rather be with her any way he could than not at all.
As time has passed, though, he’s noticed some changes in his mouse. She’s cut back on the little things he loves about her – laughing, scrunching her nose, up-keeping her nail polish, etc. – until she’s stopped doing them entirely. While his feelings towards her haven't changed because of such trivial things, he has started worrying about her.
It’s like her nervousness has shifted into overdrive and she’s losing herself. But because she’s recently closed herself off from him, Bucky isn't sure how to intervene on her behalf; isn't sure how to fix her problems; isn't sure how to bring her back to her true self.
His constant state of worrying is putting him on edge. He’s not sure how much longer he can watch his poor mouse suffer; how much longer he can sit back and see her struggle alone; how much longer he can go without doing something to help her.
~*~*~*~*~
-Two days later-
You sit on the living room couch, absentmindedly picking your nails and shaking your leg. It’s nearly midnight, but just like every other night this past week, you can’t sleep. You stare at the television, not actually seeing what’s in front of you – your brain filled with a million other thoughts.
The couch shifts beside you. “Hey,” a sweet voice captures your attention.
Turning your head in the direction of the sound, you find Wanda giving you a sympathetic look as she sits next to you.
“How’re you doing, honey?” Her voice is soft, almost like she’s talking to a frightened animal.
You drop your hand in your lap, blinking a few times to clear your head. “I-I’m okay. All good,” you try giving her a reassuring smile.
She isn’t fooled by your poor attempt at nonchalance.
“I don’t think you are,” her face is serious but her tone is gentle. “You seem… off lately. When I’ve tried getting your attention over the past few days, it’s taken a few tries before you noticed me. Is everything alright?”
You didn’t realize others were noticing your behavior – becoming privy to your troubles. While her demeanor is kind and patient, you know Wanda won’t leave until you’ve given her some sort of answer. Since she’s already catching on and you’re too weary to try denying the truth, you decide to be honest.
You shake your head, signaling that everything is not alright. Wanda scoots closer to your side, taking your hand into hers.
“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” She looks deeply into your eyes. “I’m here for you – we all are – and we just want the best for you,” she smiles, but there’s a hidden sadness in her face.
Her expression sends a pang to your chest. Wanda has become your closest friend on the team and you hate that you've been keeping something from her – something that’s been eating away at you. She's always been understanding when you've come to her with issues in the past, so maybe it’s safe to confide in her now.
You let out a slow, heavy breath as you collect your thoughts. “I’ve been… struggling lately. This is all just so new to me. From having to save the world to trying to maintain a strong public image, it’s just… a lot to juggle.” Your eyes start to water and your voice quavers slightly. “And I feel like I’m not enough, like I’m inadequate, like… I don’t belong here. And once people pull back the mask and see the true me, I’ll be shunned – cast aside like I’m nothing.”
A tear slips down your cheek and Wanda is quick to wipe it away – immediately going back to hold your hand in both of hers.
You swallow the lump in your throat before continuing. “And all of this stress, worrying, and doubt has begun to suffocate me. I feel like I haven’t been able to breathe in days.” You take a stuttering breath. “I’m at the end of my rope and I just… I don’t know what to do.” You sniffle, wiping your nose with your free hand.
Wanda releases your hand to put her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. She holds you for a second – rubbing small circles into your back – before pulling away to look directly into your eyes.
“You’re wrong,” she says resolutely. “You are enough and you do belong here. Honey, I promise you, no one thinks of you like this: that you’re weak, lesser, or any way inadequate. I’ve dealt with my own internal battles, so trust me when I say: sometimes, you’re your own worst enemy.”
You nod, listening carefully to her words.
“I’m no professional by any means, but maybe talking with one could help. You know, seeing a therapist or–”
“No,” you quickly interject. “I don’t want to see a shrink. I feel like the word would spread and pretty soon everyone would find out about my problems. Could we just keep this between you and I for now? Please?” You give her a desperate look.
“Of course, if that’s what you want,” she takes your hand again, giving it a squeeze. “But know that I’ll be here to lend an ear whenever you need one.”
“Thank you,” you smile tearfully.
“In the meantime, though, do you want me to…” she trails off, gesturing towards you with her glowing fingers.
You get what she’s implying: poking around in your head with her powers.
“No, I’m okay. Thanks,” you chuckle, putting your hands up in mock defense.
While you trust Wanda not to harm you, you’ve seen what happens when people are subjected to her powers: becoming incapacitated and nearly unconscious. You’ve got to say, you’re not very fond of the idea of being indisposed while someone does whatever they want with you.
“That’s alright, I get it,” she smiles. She pauses for a beat, thinking. “Well, you know what always helps me to relax; what really helps me wind down at the end of the day?”
You shake your head, unsure of her answer.
She leans in closely, whispering as if she’s sharing some highly confidential information. “A nice cup of tea.”
You laugh, genuinely amused and surprised by her response.
“I’m serious,” she grins. “A good chamomile melts my stress away and lets me rest easy at night. You should try it, it might help.”
“Okay, sure, I’ll give it a go,” you chuckle.
“Great! Bucky has this old family recipe that works absolute wonders. He won’t tell me what’s in it – says it’s top secret – so he always makes it for me. He might still be awake, we can ask him to make a cup for you.”
At the mention of James, you go stiff. You hadn’t told Wanda that he’s been a contributing factor to your anxiety. You feel like it’s too complex to try explaining your trepidation towards him, and she won’t understand where you’re coming from anyway.
Besides, it’s just a cup of tea. What harm could it do?
“Do you think you could just ask him and leave me out of it? You know, pretend it’s for you?” You ask her. “I’m just afraid he’ll ask questions and then the truth about my anxiety will get out.”
Your request is partially based on real concerns, but you’re also leaving something out. While you don’t want everybody poking into your business, most importantly, it’s James in particular that you don’t want inquiring about you. You’d prefer if he was practically a stranger to you rather than know anything intimate about your life.
“Oh right, of course,” Wanda lightly smacks her head, having forgotten your earlier plea for confidentiality. “I’ll keep it between us,” she crosses her fingers in a show of promise. “How about you get ready for bed and I’ll bring it to you once it’s ready?”
“Sounds good,” you nod.
You both stand from the couch, walking towards the Compound’s living quarters. Once you reach your door, you stop – James’ room farther down the hall.
“Be back in a minute,” Wanda says before continuing towards his room.
You enter your room and go through your bedtime routine, waiting for Wanda to return. After a few minutes, she knocks on your door – cup in hand.
“Here you go,” she hands the white china to you, steam rising from the amber liquid. “I really hope this helps. Try to get some rest, okay?”
“Thank you, Wanda, I will. Good night.” You take the cup from her, shutting the door afterwards.
You blow across the rim a few times, not wanting to scald your tongue. Taking a tentative sip, you smack your lips together to dissect the flavor. It tastes alright: fairly sweet and floral, with a slight hint of bitterness. You finish the cup quickly, hoping it’ll do its magic like Wanda claims.
Once you brush your teeth and lie down in bed, you wait expectantly. After half an hour or so, you start feeling drowsy – a beautiful feeling after so many restless nights in a row. Your eyelids start to droop and soon you’re out like a light – sleeping deeply for the first time in weeks.
~~~~~
-One hour earlier-
Bucky hears a knock on his door, waking him from his half-dozing state. He climbs out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stumbles to the door; upon opening it, he’s met by a concerned looking Wanda.
“I’m sorry Bucky, I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she grimaces. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor and make me a cup of your chamomile tea?” She gives him puppy dog eyes in the hopes of convincing him.
Bucky checks the clock; it’s well past midnight.
“Wanda,” he sighs, “it’s late and I’m tired. Can’t you find something else for tonight?”
“Well, I could... but I’d really appreciate your special blend,” she pouts.
Bucky’s week has been stressful, constantly worrying about his little mouse’s health. He’s seen her in the living room the past several nights blankly staring at the television until the wee hours of the morning. And during the day, she's in a sleep-deprived daze – the circles under her eyes so dark that Bucky wonders if they're permanent fixtures now.
His mouse has been a nervous one since the day he met her, but she's even more jumpy as of late. And since she’s moderately blocked him out of her life, Bucky’s not sure what exactly has gotten her so worked up. Being in the dark has only caused him to become more concerned about her and more vigilant in his watch over her.
“Look, Wanda, you’re just gonna have to make do without it tonight.” He goes to shut the door, needing to get a good night's sleep in preparation for his guardianship tomorrow.
She throws her arm in the way to block the door from closing. "No, please, it's important," her tone inches on desperation.
At the look of annoyance on Bucky's face, Wanda's words start coming out rapid-fire.
"That tea is the only thing that helps me relax, but you won't tell me the recipe, so I have to ask you to make it for me every time. I know it's late and you're tired and I'm sorry for that, but I could really really use a cup right now. It's been a long week and she’s been really out of it, so I'm worried about her and–" she suddenly cuts herself off, eyes going wide.
"'Her'?" Bucky questions, curiosity piqued. "I thought the tea was for you."
Wanda avoids his gaze, nervously chewing on her lip. But the guilt written all over her face tells Bucky she’s said something she shouldn’t have.
"Wanda," Bucky presses, "who is it really for?" He gives her a sharp look, silently demanding her to confess.
She hesitates for a second before responding – admitting the truth with a whisper of a name.
At the mention of his little mouse, Bucky immediately perks up. Apparently, he’s not the only one who’s worried about her change in behavior.
But why didn’t she go to him directly? Why have Wanda ask for the tea? His mouse should know she can ask him for anything and he’ll oblige.
“I promised her I’d keep this a secret,” Wanda gives him a pitiful look. “She doesn’t want anyone else to know, so you can’t let on that you know the truth, alright? This has to stay between us,” she gestures between them.
Wanda’s confession bothers Bucky. His mouse had gone to Wanda for help instead of him. What’s worse: he’s supposed to pretend like he’s none the wiser about her betrayal.
“Please, Bucky,” Wanda says, begging him to comply. “I can’t say much more other than I hope this will help her.”
“Help her how?” He questions. How is a measly cup of tea going to have a significant impact on his mouse’s rapidly declining health?
“Relax. Cool down. Sleep, hopefully,” Wanda shrugs, not totally confident in her ideas.
However, her last point reignites a tepid idea in Bucky. He had been contemplating the thought all week – unsure if doing so would be going too far. But if his mouse has finally reached her breaking point and sought out help – even if it’s from someone else – then he figures it’s time to go through with his plan.
“Okay, I’ll help you,” Bucky says. More like help her, he thinks. “Give me a second,” he shuts the door. He rifles through his drawers before finding and pocketing what he needs.
Bucky heads to the kitchen with Wanda. As usual, he doesn’t let her sneak a peek at what secret ingredients go into making his special blend. But tonight especially, discretion is of the utmost importance.
Once he finishes the concoction, he hands it to Wanda – watching her carefully hold the cup as she pads down the hall. Bucky waits half an hour before following after her, positive it’s been long enough.
He stops outside his mouse’s door. Pressing his ear against the wood, he hears only her lilted breathing coming from the other side. He’s fairly certain she’s fast asleep, but just to be sure, he jimmies the door open – letting it silently swing inwards. Bucky steps into her room, quickly shutting the door behind him. He pauses for a moment, taking in the tranquil scene before him.
She lies gracefully in bed – a deep sleep having overtaken her. Apart from the slight rise and fall of her chest, she’s completely still. The moonlight streaming in through the window is just bright enough to illuminate her figure, showcasing the peaceful expression on her face.
Bucky takes a step closer to her bed, wanting to get a better look at her serenity. Seeing her like this makes a warm smile break across his face. He reaches a hand out, deeply tempted to stroke her soft cheek. But before he can bring himself to caress her face, he retracts his hand – deciding not to chance potentially disturbing her sleep.
For tonight, he’s content to remain at a distance. He’s just happy he could help her.
~*~*~*~*~
-The next morning-
You wake, feeling slightly disoriented but entirely refreshed. Checking the clock, you see a solid nine hours have passed undisturbed. You haven’t slept that deeply in weeks – perhaps ever, actually. While you’re a tad disconcerted you slept so heavily for so long – what if there was an emergency and you couldn’t have been awoken – you brush the concern aside. It’s the weekend and you have no plans for today; you’re allowed to sleep in.
You stand from the bed – your muscles a bit stiff from how long they've gone unused. Honestly, though, if you could sleep that peacefully every night, you'd happily take the grogginess and soreness the next morning.
Heading to get ready for the day, you feel the slightest pep in your step – a sensation you haven’t experienced in quite some time. While one good night of sleep obviously didn’t solve all of your problems, you feel slightly more enthusiastic to tackle the day.
Wanda was right: that tea does work wonders.
You head to the kitchen, wanting to grab something to eat. Bounding through the door, you find Wanda, Sam, and James at the kitchen island enjoying their own meals.
“Good morning,” you greet them, giving James a polite nod and the others genuine smiles.
“Morning?” Sam questions, checking his watch. “It’s closer to noon than it is morning.”
“Well then good afternoon, Captain Stickler,” you chortle, turning your back to them to make your meal.
As you’re preparing your food, Wanda saddles up beside you to place her dishes in the sink. “You seem to be in a good mood today,” she smiles. She lowers her voice, trying to be inconspicuous lest James’ super-soldier hearing pick up on your conversation. “It looks like the tea helped, yes?”
You sneak a peek over your shoulder, spotting James’ attention drawn to the plate of food before him. You look back to Wanda, lowering your voice to match hers. “It did. I slept so well I don’t think a gunshot could’ve woken me up,” you chuckle.
“Really? That deeply?” She questions, brow furrowing slightly.
You nod, grinning at the restfulness you experienced the night prior.
“I don’t think I’ve ever slept that deeply from the–”
“Excuse me,” James interrupts her, empty plate in hand. He gestures to the sink which Wanda accidentally blocked. “Could I…? I can wash yours as well,” he offers.
“Oh, please,” Wanda moves out of the way, letting James access the sink. She watches him for a second before shaking her head – dispelling her mind of whatever point she was going to make. She leans in closely to whisper in your ear. “Well, I’m glad it helped. If you’d like me to get you more, just ask.”
“I will. Thank you, Wanda,” you whisper back before she turns to leave the kitchen.
“Want me to wash those?” James grabs your attention, nodding towards your dirtied dishes.
While James’ presence still unsettles you, you’re starting to feel a little bad for holding such negative thoughts about him. Truthfully, he’s never really done anything to garner such discomfort from you. And now – even though he’s unaware of the fact – he’s actually helped you immensely. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to start re-taking him up on his little pieces of proffered aid.
“Sure. Thank you,” you give him a meek smile, handing him the dishes.
“My pleasure. I’m happy to help,” he gives you a toothy grin in return, taking the dishes from you.
You eat your meal at the island, more eager to face the day than you’ve been for weeks.
~~~~~
-Twenty minutes earlier-
Bucky sits at the kitchen island, barely touching his food. It’s so late in the morning. Why hasn’t his mouse woken up yet? When he left her room last night, she was still resting peacefully, albeit very heavily. He didn’t expect her to sleep in this late.
Maybe he left too early and something went wrong while she slept. Maybe he should have watched over her the whole night, just to be safe. Maybe he put too much…
She walks into the kitchen, snapping Bucky out of his swirling thoughts. She looks good: well rested, dark circles less prominent under her eyes, a slight bounce in her step. The image makes him smile – seeing her start to resemble her old self.
“Good morning,” she greets them, giving everyone a warm smile.
“Morning?” Sam retorts. “It’s closer to noon than it is morning.”
“Well then good afternoon, Captain Stickler,” she laughs, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
God, how Bucky’s missed that sound. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since he’s been graced with the sweet trill of her laugh. She’s happy again – light and care-free – and it’s all thanks to him.
Bucky catches Wanda’s eye. She gives him a hopeful grin before standing – rounding the island to stand beside his mouse. They speak softly, making Bucky tilt his chin downwards – straining his ears to attune to their conversation.
“...I don’t think a gunshot could’ve woken me up,” his mouse jokes.
Bucky smiles, silently agreeing with her sentiment.
“Really? That deeply?” Wanda presses, disbelief coloring her tone.
Bucky lifts his head, spying the bewildered look on Wanda’s face. He can see the gears turning in her head as she regards his mouse’s words. She knows something’s not quite right – his tea never having affected her so severely before.
“I don’t think I’ve ever slept that deeply from the–”
“Excuse me,” Bucky cuts Wanda off, derailing her train of thought. He can’t risk her potentially connecting any dots.
He offers to wash her dishes and she accepts. She slides closer once again to whisper to his mouse, before finally exiting the kitchen.
Once Wanda leaves, Bucky redirects his mouse’s attention to him. “Want me to wash those?” He asks her.
He sees several thoughts flash behind her eyes – a war seemingly going on in her mind despite the simplicity of his question.
Eventually, though, she relents. “Sure. Thank you,” she smiles.
“My pleasure. I’m happy to help.” In more ways than one, he adds in his mind.
Bucky grins as he finishes washing her dishes – truly glad he’s able to help his mouse in any way he can. The tea especially seemed to have benefited her greatly.
However – should he make more cups for her in the future – he’ll know to adjust the dosage accordingly. He didn’t expect the crushed sleeping pills to be that effective. Though, perhaps he should’ve since they were designed with his super-soldier metabolism in mind. He may have overestimated how much to put in her drink, but he won’t make that mistake again.
After all, he's trying to help his little mouse, not harm her.
~*~*~*~*~
-Three weeks later-
Bucky Barnes is actually a nice guy. It’s taken you a while to warm up to him, but you’ve finally begun to feel comfortable in his presence – enough that you've even started using his nickname rather than formal name. Though, this comfortability was happenstance from being forced to interact with him.
“What do you mean you can’t get me anymore tea? You’ve been bringing me a cup every night for the past week,” you pointed out to Wanda.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she pouted. “Sam and I are leaving for an extended mission tomorrow, so I won’t be able to act as your tea-bearer for the next couple of days.”
“But what am I supposed to do? Ever since I started drinking that tea, I’ve been sleeping like a baby and have been able to better manage my anxiety. I don’t think I can just quit cold turkey,” you worriedly gnawed on your lip.
Wanda gave you a sympathetic look. “Look, honey, I know you’re afraid your reputation will be damaged if people learn about your struggles, but I don’t think it would be so bad if you let others in on your secret.”
You started to open your mouth in protest but Wanda put a hand up to stop you.
“Just hear me out for a second,” she pleaded. “Take Bucky for instance. While he’s never let me into his head, I know he deals with his own demons – things I can’t even imagine. But he’s gotten so much better since I first met him; he’s really started to come into his own. Sure, he still struggles to connect with people sometimes, but it’s the fact that he’s trying to reach out to others that I think has helped him improve.”
You considered Wanda's words. Perhaps sharing your burdens with others would relieve some of the weight from your shoulders.
"So maybe take a page out of Bucky's book and try to let people in. Even if it’s just with one other person for now, you might see an improvement in yourself," she smiled gently. “Besides, I don’t think you have to worry about Bucky spilling the beans if you don’t want him to. He’s good at keeping secrets,” she smirked, some unspoken meaning behind her words.
While you were hesitant to potentially share your troubles with others – and especially with James – you felt like you had no other options once Wanda had left you to fend for yourself. Thus, you cautiously approached James in the kitchen one night.
“Evening, James,” you greeted him. “I was wondering if you could do something for me.”
He raised a questioning brow, telling you to continue.
You inhaled deeply before speaking. “Wanda told me about the chamomile tea you make that helps her relax, and I was hoping to try some for myself." You omitted the fact that you'd already tried the tea. You didn’t want him to know Wanda had been sneaking it to you.
"So, could you maybe make me a cup? If you wouldn’t mind, that is.” You held your breath – hoping to leave it at that, but expecting an onslaught of prying questions.
“Sure, I’d be happy to,” he smiled, turning to grab the kettle without another word.
Well, that was uneventful, you thought. You were expecting to have to bare all of your troubles before him. Instead, James seemed to respect your privacy and not want to dig further.
You released your breath, happy that things went so smoothly.
Once you made that initial tea petition from Bucky, you stopped using Wanda as a middle man – figuring it was no longer necessary to go through her to acquire your sleep aid. Thus, you’ve been going directly to Bucky for the past couple of weeks.
As you would stand idly by while he made your tea, you and Bucky started chit-chatting. You found that you two actually have quite a lot of common interests: similar tastes in books, movies, and even collecting kitschy gift-shop items.
The more you’ve gotten to know Bucky, the more he’s started to grow on you – no longer the unsettling man you first perceived him as. Now, it almost feels like you two are kindred spirits; he connects and relates to you in ways you’d never expected him to. Hence why tonight you decide to really open up to him.
“Hey Bucky,” you grab his attention, “could I ask you something?”
He pauses his routine in making your tea, turning to give you a strong look. “Of course, Mouse. Anything.”
You’re not sure exactly how he came up with that nickname for you, but you have to say, you don’t hate it.
“Have you ever dealt with nightmares before?” Your voice is soft, hesitant to ask.
While your anxiety has significantly improved over the past several weeks, you’ve begun having a new troubling experience: strange nightmares. Although the details are fuzzy – dualling warm and cold touches on your skin, a roughness against your cheek, a gravelly voice whispering unintelligibly in your ear – these nightmares have been plaguing you lately.
Bucky gives you a sad look, nodding his head. “I used to,” he confirms.
“How did they go away?” Hope floods your voice.
“I can’t say, really,” he shakes his head. “They just stopped after a while.”
Your heart falls. Bucky’s always seemed to have a solution for you in the past, but you suppose his help can only extend so far.
"Anything in particular you want to talk about?" His brow furrows slightly.
You haven't been able to piece enough of your nightmares together to make a coherent picture out of them. Thus, even if you wanted to, you aren’t able to discuss any of these harrowing dreams with Bucky. However, something has been eating at you as you've gotten closer to him these past few weeks.
"Do you remember the first night I asked you to make your tea for me?" You question, looking down at your fresh manicure.
"Of course," he chuckles. "How could I forget?"
You continue to avoid his eyes, feeling the guilt in your chest. "I lied. I had tried the tea before that night; Wanda had been bringing it to me over the week prior. I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid you'd start asking questions I wasn't ready to answer."
You hate that this friendship you've developed with Bucky started on lies. Bucky's always been very forthcoming and kind with you, and you're just a dirty liar. You keep your eyes downcast, not wanting to see the probable hurt on his face.
Gently, Bucky grips your chin in his flesh hand – drawing your eyes up to his. Though he's never touched you like this before, the action feels intimately familiar. He looks deeply into your eyes.
“I knew,” he deadpans.
Your eyes go wide at his confession. How did he find out? Wanda wouldn’t have betrayed your confidence, so was it just that obvious? Were you not as stealthy as you thought you were being?
You go to question him. “Wh–”
“I knew the whole time,” he cuts you off. “But I didn’t want to pressure you into revealing anything you didn’t want to, so I pretended I didn’t know.” He caresses your cheek softly before dropping his hand.
You’re stunned. Bucky knew all along that Wanda was delivering the tea to you, but he never said a word. He gave you your space and privacy and never once tried to meddle.
“I still won’t pressure you to explain why you wanted my tea in the first place. But if you ever want to tell me, I’ll be happy to listen,” he lips curve upwards.
The timer goes off – signaling that the tea has steeped for long enough. Bucky turns his back to you to give the liquid a quick stir before turning around to hand you the cup. You take it from him gratefully.
“Thank you, Bucky,” you offer him a timid smile. Your thanks holds a multitude of meanings: for the tea, for not prying, for giving you space.
“My pleasure,” he smiles back.
You take a sip, savoring the sweetness on your tongue. Over time, you’ve gotten used to the slight bitter notes that they barely faze you anymore.
“What do you put in here that makes it taste so good?” You smack your lips.
He chuckles, “You have your secrets and I have mine.”
“Fair enough,” you laugh, taking the cup as you leave to get ready for bed.
~~~~~
-Ten minutes earlier-
Bucky is over the moon. The past couple of weeks have been the best of his life. Ever since his mouse started coming to him for her tea, their relationship has rapidly blossomed. As he's talked with her, he's gotten to know her even better than before and has realized how perfect they are for each other.
Sure, when he first found those books, movie theater stubs, and knick-knacks in her belongings, he didn't think much of them. But when he saw how happy his mouse got when discussing her interests, Bucky saw his own interests start to align with hers.
These past few weeks have seen his mouse come back to herself – painting her nails, laughing jovially at Sam's jokes, etc. – and Bucky couldn't be more thrilled. It's as he's making her tea for the 15th night in a row that she interrupts his happy recounting thoughts.
"Hey Bucky, could I ask you something?"
While Bucky's saddened she no longer uses her special name for him, the sound of his nickname falling from her lips is like heaven on earth.
"Of course, Mouse. Anything," he states. She should know this by now.
“Have you ever dealt with nightmares before?” Her voice is quiet, slightly strained.
Bucky frowns at her question. He’s known for a while that she’s been having rough dreams, but to hear her verbally confirm it makes his heart sting. He’s been trying to ease her through her nightmares, but nothing he’s done so far has seemed to help.
Bucky laid beside her in bed, watching her squirm in her sleep. She was usually so still while she slept, but lately she'd been quite restless.
It wasn’t his concoction lacking potency, no; Bucky hadn’t lowered the dosage and he doubted her system had evolved a tolerance already. Rather, Bucky had a feeling he knew what he was witnessing; his mouse was having a nightmare, and an especially frightful one, at that.
Having experienced his own fair share of night terrors, he knew the signs well: tossing and turning, incoherent mumbling, sweat glistening her brow. While he wasn't sure what caused these nightmares to erupt – or what their contents could be – Bucky knew it irked him to see his mouse suffer.
He tried soothing her back to a peaceful slumber – petting her hair, massaging her body, whispering comforting promises in her ear – but to no avail. No matter how hard he tried, Bucky couldn't seem to help his mouse escape whatever disturbed her. In turn, his failure to help deeply tormented him.
“I used to,” Bucky admits, telling her he also used to have nightmares.
“How did they go away?” She looks at him fervently, her eyes sparkling with hope.
“I can’t say, really. They just stopped after a while,” he lies. Bucky knows exactly when and why his nightmares stopped.
They stopped the day he met her – the day his little mouse skittered into life and changed his whole world. She was the ray of sunshine that cut through the darkness and brought him into the light. He just wishes he could do the same for her now.
If he had been able to return the favor, Bucky would’ve happily told her the truth. But because he hasn’t yet been fruitful in that regard, he’s chosen to keep it hidden for now. He doesn’t want her to be disappointed in his failures.
He sees her face fall anyway – disheartened that he offered her nothing of substance. Maybe if he knew what’s been bothering her lately, he could better help her work through it.
"Anything in particular you want to talk about?"
She pauses for a minute, mulling something over in her mind. When she speaks again, her question surprises him.
"Do you remember the first night I asked you to make your tea for me?" She asks shyly, avoiding his eyes.
"Of course. How could I forget?" He smiles fondly. That was the night they entered this new, exciting chapter of their relationship.
"I lied,” her voice sounds broken. “I had tried the tea before that night; Wanda had been bringing it to me over the week prior. I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid you'd start asking questions I wasn't ready to answer."
It pains Bucky to see how upset she is. He lifts her chin, encouraging her to meet his gaze. He hadn’t planned to share this with her now – or ever, really – but he can’t stand seeing her so dejected.
“I knew,” he states plainly. She goes to speak, but not before Bucky continues. “I knew the whole time. But I didn’t want to pressure you into revealing anything you didn’t want to, so I pretended I didn’t know.”
The fault is on him for going along with Wanda’s plea for confidentiality. His mouse has no reason to be upset with herself for telling a little white lie when Bucky’s been keeping his own secrets.
“I still won’t pressure you to explain why you wanted my tea in the first place. But if you ever want to tell me, I’ll be happy to listen,” he says earnestly. While Bucky could probably find out the truth from Wanda, he’d prefer hearing it firsthand from his mouse.
The timer dings. As with every night, Bucky discreetly stirs the sleeping powder into the tea before handing her the cup.
“Thank you, Bucky,” she offers him a bright smile.
“My pleasure.”
She takes a sip before asking, “What do you put in here that makes it taste so good?”
Bucky laughs, amused that she enjoys his special blend so much. Personally, he doesn’t enjoy the bitter aftertaste of the pills, but to each their own.
“You have your secrets and I have mine,” he says.
Maybe one day they’ll trade their secrets and laugh about how ridiculous they were to have kept them from each other. But for now, some things are better left unsaid.
“Fair enough,” she chuckles before padding down the hall with her cup.
The next week passes by more or less the same. His mouse comes to him at night, they chat while he makes her tea, she falls asleep, and he unsuccessfully tries to drive off her nightmares. It's the same routine again and again until a week later when his mouse is sent on a sudden overnight mission.
Her and Sam are called so suddenly that Bucky doesn’t even get a chance to see her before she leaves. He has no idea when they’re set to return, but he doubts it’ll be before tomorrow evening. That means this’ll be the first night in over a month she’ll go without her tea.
Several hours pass with no word from his mouse or Sam. Bucky paces in her room – concern running rampant through his thoughts. How is she feeling? Is she alright? Is she experiencing withdrawals? Why hasn’t she checked in with him?
He slumps face down on her bed, burying his nose in her pillow. Her scent clings to the fabric, making tears spring to his eyes. It’s just not the same when she’s not lying beside him.
For the first time, Bucky spends the entire night in her bed – sleeping uneasily without her comforting presence next to him. He doesn’t return to his own room until well after the sun rises.
The next day, Bucky continues to worry about his mouse. He paces so furiously that he’s surprised he doesn’t wear a hole in the floor. But finally – just over 26 hours after she was called away – his mouse returns to the Compound. The mission apparently was successful, but Bucky doesn’t give two shits about that. Instead, all of his attention is focused on her.
She looks rough: beaten, bloodied, and exhausted beyond belief. She barely offers him a glance as she slinks to her room, desperately in need of some shut-eye. While she most likely has no need for her tea tonight – she’ll probably pass out as soon as her head hits the pillow – Bucky insists on making a cup anyway.
He makes the tea in no time, having no need to drag things out since she’s not in the kitchen to chat with him. He makes sure to add a heavy dose of the powder. She needs all the rest she can get after a long, tough day.
When Bucky delivers the cup to his mouse’s door, she’s halfway undressed from her tactical suit. Spotting some hastily applied bandages along her bare arms, Bucky’s chest tightens. She takes the cup with a bleary smile and quiet “thank you” before shutting the door.
After 20 minutes of impatiently waiting, Bucky enters her room. As he suspected, she’s dead asleep – warmly tucked under the covers. Bucky smiles at her peaceful state, but frowns as he imagines the damages that wait beneath her sheets.
Gently, he lifts the duvet – careful not to jostle her sleeping form. In her shorts and tank top, the majority of her body is exposed to him. The sight makes his eyes water.
Deep bruising and shallow cuts litter her arms and legs. Raising her shirt slightly, Bucky spots a particularly nasty bruise along her right hip. He traces the discoloration with his metal fingers – causing her to faintly wince in her sleep.
Bucky’s heart breaks. His mouse is hurt. Though her wounds don’t appear serious enough to warrant a trip to the medical wing, Bucky knows she’s in considerable pain. What’s worse: he’s not sure how to relieve her agony – how to make her feel good again.
Well… there is one thing that always makes Bucky feel better. Though, he’s not sure if it’ll work for his mouse.
Bucky sits and thinks for a minute, continuing to lightly trace over her bruising. At the sound of a hiss from her lips, Bucky makes up his mind.
"Don't worry, Mouse," he whispers, sliding her shorts down her legs. “I'll make you feel better,” he lowers her panties, settling his shoulders between her thighs. "I'll help you."
~*~*~*~*~
-Two weeks later-
Your anxiety has come back full force. However, this time it has nothing to do with the factors you were originally nervous about when first starting this job: your responsibilities, fame, or coworkers.
Instead, all of your anxiety stems from the nightmares you've been experiencing. They've gotten progressively worse over the last two weeks – the details more lewd and frightening as the nights pass: a tickling sensation on your inner thighs, something prodding at your mouth, a voice saying, “...wanna t… apart.”
You don’t know what it all means. You only know that the dreams are so detailed that you can’t quite believe it’s all in your imagination; it just feels too real sometimes.
Because you sleep so deeply every night, your terror is only enhanced due to your inability to escape your nightmares. It’s gotten to the extent that you’ve been putting off sleeping for as long as possible – lengthening your waking hours to minimize your time spent in dreamscape hell. And when you wake every morning, the sensations from the previous night are burned so deeply into your skin and brain that they disturb you the rest of the day.
Thus, it’s no wonder your anxiety has returned with a vengeance. On one hand, you’re terrified to sleep because you know you won’t truly find rest despite your unconscious state. But on the other hand, every hour you stay awake is just another minute you’re consciously reliving your nightmares. It’s a lose-lose situation either way.
At this point, you feel like your nightly tea ritual is doing you more harm than good. Sure, in the past it’s helped you relax and rest peacefully, but that’s no longer the case. In theory, sleeping a full nine hours uninterrupted every night should be a godsend. In reality, you’re willing to halve that amount if it’ll grant you respite from your nightmares.
As with every night the past month or so, you find Bucky in the kitchen readying the kettle for your tea. However, before he even has a chance to light the burner, you stop him.
“Bucky,” you put a hand on his arm, halting his movements as he turns to look at you.
“Hey, Mouse,” he grins wryly. “Perfect timing. I’m just about to make your tea.”
“I actually wanted to talk to you about that,” you drop your hand.
“What, come to sing more praises about the flavor?” He chuckles.
“No,” you shake your head. “Look, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you making me a cup every night the past month and a half, but I think I’m gonna have to call it quits. It’s not th–”
“NO!” Bucky raises his voice, expression quickly shifting to anger. “You can’t just quit!" His fingers twitch at his sides.
You’re taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. It’s been a while since you’ve felt unsettled by Bucky, but you’re abruptly overcome with that sensation again.
“Wh-why not?” You question apprehensively, afraid to set him off more.
“Well… because…,” he mutters.
You stand mutely as you wait for his explanation. Bucky looks you over, intensely studying your face. After a few moments, he speaks again.
“No, never mind,” he shakes his head. “If you don’t want the tea any more, then that’s your decision to make,” he takes a step away from you. “Sleep well,” he plasters on a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I’ll try. Thank…”
Bucky storms off, leaving the kitchen before you’ve completed your sentence.
“...you,” you finish lamely, speaking into the empty room.
That was odd, you think. Why did he get so worked up about this? It’s just a cup of tea for Christ’s sake.
While you’re confused about what just transpired, you’re also concerned you may have inadvertently caused a rift between you and Bucky. You’ve come to consider Bucky a pretty good friend and solid person to fall back on, and you’d hate it if you just did something to soil your relationship with him.
~~~~~
-One minute later-
Bucky slams his door shut, seething in his fury. How could she do this? What spurred her to make this decision? Things were going so well between us, he thinks.
He paces in his room, harshly running his fingers through his hair. Doesn't she realize how much her tea was helping her; all it was doing for her? And now she's just pushed it away like it's useless.
Bucky is incredulous. He can't fathom what possessed her to change her mind out of the blue. Sure, he'd seen her begin to draw into herself again like she did all those weeks before he started making his concoction for her. But that was the whole point of the tea: to help ease her nerves, relax her, and make her sleep peacefully. And now that's tossed out the window.
When she voiced her desire to stop taking her tea, Bucky couldn't help the knee-jerk reaction that slipped out. Her decision was completely unexpected and caught him totally off guard.
In all honesty, he wasn't far from forcing the powder down her throat if he had to. He knows it would've been an unpleasant experience, but it would've been for her benefit in the long run.
But then he saw that look on her face – that timidity he adores – and he knew he couldn't subject his little mouse to that. No matter how much he knew the tea would help her, he didn’t want to cause her that unnecessary strife.
Thus, he chose to relent to her wishes despite how incorrect they were. However, she's become such an integral part of his life that Bucky's not sure how to proceed from here; how to continue to watch over her now that he’s no longer the guardian of her dreams.
He supposes he could go back to helping her with small things again – paperwork, workouts, etc. – but that seems like such a regression in their relationship. With how well things had been going between them, Bucky was beginning to hope again that something more would evolve; that despite her “no dating coworkers” rule, his mouse would make an exception for him.
In fact, Bucky’s confident he can get her to change her mind. If he can call on that old Brooklyn charm again, maybe his little mouse can be wooed into breaking her rule. Perhaps all hope is not yet lost for them.
~*~*~*~*~
-Five days later-
Your nightmares have totally dissipated. Granted, you’ve only been averaging about five hours of sleep the past several nights – and on multiple occasions have been awoken by Sam’s booming laughter coming from the hall – but at least the night terrors have ceased.
You’re not only relieved about the change of tides with your dreams, but you’re also grateful that your and Bucky’s relationship hasn’t taken a turn for the worse. In fact, he’s been in as good a mood as ever: trying to crack jokes, giving you cheeky smirks, and in general behaving as if nothing ever went down in the kitchen a few nights ago.
You wish you had met this Bucky when you first joined the team; that would have saved you a lot of anxiety. While he’s still a little socially awkward at times, he’s not nearly the creepy, lurking beast you once thought he was.
You actually like Bucky a lot and really enjoy spending time with him. Hence why when he re-asks you a question from months ago, you have a different reaction than the first time around.
“Would you like to get dinner with me sometime?” Bucky questions, an innocent twinkle in his eye.
“Like on a date?” You gently bite your lip, fighting back a smile.
“No, not like a date,” he shakes his head.
Your smile falls, hope vanishing into thin air.
“I know you have that rule about not dating colleagues,” he continues. “So it can just be two friends getting din–”
“Actually, about that…,” you interrupt him.
He closes his mouth and waits for you to continue.
“Funny story, really,” you chuckle awkwardly. “I might have made up that rule to get you off my back,” you cringe.
You hated how you felt back when you lied to him about Wanda being your tea-bearer. If something more is going to happen in your relationship with Bucky, you don’t want it to be built on lies. But in seeing the hurt flash across his face, you’re quick to explain your reasoning.
“When you first asked to get dinner with me, I still didn’t know you very well. And in all honesty, you scared me a little. So I thought the only way to ensure you wouldn’t continue to ask me on dates would be to make up that rule.”
You can tell that he’s feeling disheartened, but also something else. Annoyed... angry maybe? You’re not sure. You take his hand in yours, giving it a light squeeze.
“I’m so sorry, Bucky. I was wrong not only for lying to you, but also for misjudging you. If I had given you a chance, I would’ve seen how lovely you are,” you tell him genuinely.
He smiles, mood immediately uplifted from your words. “So, if you’re not against dating coworkers, does that mean…?” He trails off, smirking.
You laugh, scrunching your nose. “Yes, I would love to get dinner with you.”
“Great, then it’s a date! I know just the place. Tonight, eight o’clock,” he smiles.
“Sounds good,” you return his smile, giving his hand one last squeeze before letting go.
Later that night, you don’t find out where you’re headed until you literally pull up in front of the restaurant. Upon seeing the familiar striped awnings, outdoor seating, and brick facade, a smile breaks across your face.
I Piatti Puliti, your favorite Italian bistro. It’s been years since you’ve come here. You think the last time was to celebrate your friend Gina’s 25th birthday. You’re sure you have a polaroid commemorating the celebration somewhere, but you’d really have to dig through your possessions to find it.
The restaurant is a little out of the way – what some might consider a “hole-in-the-wall” – but that’s why you like it so much. It’s one of your better kept secrets, so you’re surprised Bucky knows about this place, too.
“I Piatti Puliti?” You look at Bucky in awe. “I used to come here all the time. I love this place!”
“Do you?” Bucky smiles warmly at you. “I had no idea. I just heard about it the other day and thought it’d be nice to check out.”
“Well, you thought correctly,” you chuckle. “C’mon, you’ll love the spinach ravioli.” You grab his hand as you lead him into the restaurant, excited for your evening with Bucky.
After the success of your first date with Bucky, you go on several more over the coming weeks. Each and every one of them is perfect to a T: more hole-in-the-wall restaurants you adore, a natural history museum where you buy a snow globe to add to your knick-knacks, even a bowling alley where you two take pictures in a photo booth to add to your collection. It’s almost like he’s reading your mind and knows how to set up the perfect dates for you.
After four weeks of exploring this romantic dynamic with Bucky, you realize you’ve fallen hard for him. His kind and attentive qualities are so endearing – so gentlemanly – that you couldn’t help but get swept up in them. They just don’t make men today like they used to.
While you can appreciate his 1940’s mentality – he’s not gone farther than giving you gentle kisses goodnight at your door – you think it’s finally time to kick it up a notch. It’s been a long while since you’ve been intimate with another person, and you’re ready to take it to that level with Bucky.
As he leans in to press a quick peck to your lips, you grab his face – deepening the kiss. Bucky’s shocked for a moment before he returns your passion, pushing his lips forcefully against yours.
You drop your hands to his belt, pulling him with you as you back yourself through the open door. Once you cross the threshold into your room, your mouths separate – both of you taking in much-needed lungfuls of air.
Bucky chuckles huskily. “I didn't know you could be so brazen, Mouse."
You half-heartedly shrug, smirking. "Guess I've hidden some things from you."
"Not for long," he growls, pulling you back into a kiss.
You’re both quick to strip off your clothes – his bare body soon blanketing yours on the bed. He starts trailing kisses down your chest, making a path towards your core. In an attempt to stop his movements, you grab ahold of his head.
"No time for that," you say breathlessly, trying to pull his mouth back up to yours. "I need you now."
"Alright," he chuckles, sitting up on his knees. He takes himself in hand, giving his length a few pumps before lining up with your entrance. "God, I've been wanting to do this," he says as he pushes into you.
The stretch makes you hiss, your hands flying to his back. Not only has it been a while, but Bucky's very well endowed.
"Fuck!" He says through clenched teeth. "Knew you'd fit like a glove. Could tell by the way you gripped my fingers that you'd be this tight."
Huh? What is he talking about?
He retracts his hips before quickly snapping them forward – effectively breaking you from your wandering thoughts.
His hands ghost over your body, the heated flesh and cold metal contrasting starkly to one another; the sensation is strange – oddly familiar – but it makes a pleasant shiver run up your spine.
Bucky continues to piston into you as he leans forward, connecting your mouths in a heated kiss. His tongue prods at you, trying to gain entrance to your mouth. He groans as his tongue slips past your lips, the noise echoing in your mouth.
He parts from your lips with a pop. “You’re so sweet,” he purrs, his scruff rubbing roughly against your cheek. “Just wanna devour you. Wanna fucking tear. You. Apart,” he punctuates his words with deep thrusts.
The words vaguely register in your brain, having some semblance of familiarity. As you struggle to remember where you've heard that phrase before, you feel Bucky’s movements start to falter. Moments later, a warmth blooms in your core as his hips come to a complete stop.
"Damn," he lets out a breathy sigh. "I'm glad I waited for that."
He grabs your chin to give you a kiss as you ponder his words. You didn't think four weeks into dating was that long of a wait, but Bucky had apparently been itching to get into bed with you.
He gets up to grab a towel and you frown; you'd been so caught up in your head that you weren't able to get off. When Bucky returns to clean you up, you give him a shy look – delicately wiggling your hips.
"What is it, Mouse?" He smirks.
"Bucky, do you think you could…?" You don’t finish the question, finding it awkward to ask so directly.
He raises an eyebrow. "You didn't?"
You shake your head, biting your lip.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mouse. I try to always get the job done. Of course I'll do that for you."
He moves between your legs, lowering his head towards your sex. Before he makes that first swipe with his tongue, he looks up at you – giving you a wink.
"I'm always happy to help."
__________
A/N: If you were able to trudge through this, I’d love to know what you thought! If you’ve listened to the song, then hopefully you picked up on some of the other lyrical inspiration I sprinkled throughout the fic. And if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend you watch the clip of episode 5x01 of AHS: Hotel where this song is used (that’s actually where I first heard it). Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!
Warnings: Dark! Peter Parker (18+) x female reader, non-con/dub-con, knife play, face fucking, begging, humiliation kink, squirting, smut, fondling, hand job, anal play
Notes: Hehe, sooo this challenge is very very late and I’m very very sorry. I’d like to apologize to @mariessecretfantasies for being soooo late. Anyways I hope you enjoy this one!!
“WHAT YOU DID WAS INCREDIBLY STUPID. I CANNOT PUT INTO WORDS HOW CARELESS AND CHILDISH YOUR ACTIONS WERE! I SHOULD HAVE YOU SUSPENDED, NO-“
You tried your hardest to stop the growing smirk on your face as Fury yelled at you. You may or may not have almost killed yourself and others while executing a life or death mission. The key work here was almost.
Being a new recruit was no walk in the park. Other agents were constantly belittling your actions and questioning your position with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers, you showed them though. With every mission and every time you trained, you made sure to go above and beyond and prove every single one of those people wrong. As a result, a lot of agents became jealous and would do anything they could to ruin your credibility. Which brings you to Fury still yelling in your face.
It’s not like you were completely reckless, you made sure to carefully calculate everything you did so that you wouldn’t risk putting anyone in actual danger. Yes, that mission was technically very poorly executed, but it’s not your fault. Truthfully, the original plan would have cost people their lives if it wasn’t thanks to your quick thinking that saved everyone.
The only reason you were being yelled at instead of praised was because your incompetent teammates didn’t want to question the mission captain and think of a new plan. You were a hero, but those stubborn asses would never admit it.
“You really have me backed into a corner here, Agent,” Fury sighed as he rubbed his face.
“My desk is filled with complaints about your negligence to the team. Even your mission captain wants you suspended indefinitely,” you huffed.
“The only reason everyone complains about me is because they can’t be me. Everything they do, I do it ten times better than they could ever dream of. Even the lousy mission captain couldn’t think of a more brilliant plan than mine. You all should be thanking me really,” Fury raised his brows.
“Thanking you?”
“Yes, you should be thanking me because I’m the only competent one here willing to risk it all to save innocent people. Sorry you only hired people that were too afraid to get their hands dirty, what a sad sad team we have here,” Fury looked as if he wanted to chew your head off more, but for the sake of his already high blood pressure and an impending migraine, he decided against it.
“You know what I’m willing to do for you, Agent,” it didn’t take Fury long to come up with a plan.
“What, Nicholas,” you loved poking at his nerves. The vain in his forehead looked as if it were about to burst.
“I’m going to assign you to our Avengers program,” you gasped internally. The Avenger program? Does that mean-
“Don’t get it twisted. This program does not mean you’ll become an Avenger. This is a shadow program. You’ll be able to go on mission with your Avenger, go to their meetings, press conferences, you get the point,” you scoffed.
“And you’re doing all this for what?” Fury rolled his eyes.
“You may be able to get away with a lot of shit as an agent, but the Avengers are on a whole other level. One slip up and you're done. This program is gonna teach you just how we do things here at S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Fury leaned over the desk to be eye level with you.
You thought about giving him more attitude, but you didn’t want to push your luck. Even though Fury wasn’t saying it, he was pretty much saying that this program could mean a spot on the Avengers, right? Finally, you were all that hard work was giving you the recognition you deserve.
“Alright, Fury, I’ll join your little program. So, who do I get. Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Agent Romanoff, someone who matches my intelligence and skill set?” You leaned back in your chair with a smug smirk. Fury matched yours.
“I believe a shadow program is well below their pay grade. I was thinking of assigning you to someone who was a little like yourself. I think Peter Parker would be the perfect match for you,” your eyes went wide in disbelief.
“Peter Parker? Him? Oh, Nick, you gotta be kidding me? He doesn’t even go on real missions! He just helps old ladies cross the street, scares punk teens from shoplifting, he’s not even a real Avenger!”
“Mr. Parker is way more qualified than being a neighborhood watchmen, Agent. He’s on the team because he is one of the best. You can learn a thing or two from him. He, very much like yourself, was a big rule breaker too, still is if you ask me. The only reason we haven’t kicked him off yet is because Tony Stark has a soft spot for the kid.”
You tried to argue your way out of being with Peter, but Fury insisted or you would be met with suspension. You grumbled and trudged your way out of his office. Fury mentioned before you left that Peter would be in contact with you shortly. You slammed the door before he got his last words out.
“And don’t forget, follow the rules or be faced with the consequences,” you mocked his words under your breath as you stormed back to the agent’s wing of the compound.
__
Peter couldn’t believe the phone call he had just gotten from Fury. More importantly he couldn’t believe who was going to be shadowing him. After all this time being in the Avengers program, no one ever wanted to pick him, but you, his crush, well his heart was just bursting at its seams.
“What’s gotten you all smiley, Spidey,” Sam took a seat next to him on the couch.
“N-Nothing, I just got off the phone with Director Fury, he says someone requested me for the shadow program,” Sam laughed.
“And that’s what’s making you get all blushing and giddy? Gee, you not getting enough attention at home?” Peter rolled his eyes at Sam.
“No, it’s, it’s just this girl that I’ve liked for some time. Apparently she wanted me to be her guide.”
“Who is she?” Once Peter said your name, Sam’s eyes lit up in fear.
“Aww no man, you don’t want to be messing around with her,” Peter’s face fell.
“Why not?”
“Well, rumor has it she’s kind of a rebel.”
“Kind of?”
“From what I hear from other agents, she’s always breaking protocol, almost always putting people in danger, risking lives, not a good look if you ask me. Come to think of it, why didn’t Fury deny her application?”
“Maybe he thinks I can be a good influence on her,” Peter smiled and nudged Sam’s arm.
“Pfft, when pigs fly,” Sam got up and walked away leaving Peter to write out an informative email to you.
“Just be careful with her is all I’m saying, kid.”
Peter ignored him as he pulled up his email and began to write to you.
__
Your alarm was blaring way too early in the morning for your liking. Peter insisted on starting everyday at 6 a.m. because “crime always starts early”, or something stupid like that. You two had only been with each other for a week and it was pure torture for you.
Peter on the other hand indulged in the time he got to spend with you. So far, Sam was being proven wrong about your rebel status. He always made sure you were to follow the book no matter how defiant the look in your eyes was becoming. Maybe you only followed the rules because of him, he’d like to think.
“Peterrrrrrr,” you whined.
“Whattttt,” he mimicked with a laugh.
“This shit is taking too long. Can’t we just-“
“Nope,” Peter interrupted.
“But-“
“Nada.”
“Peter-“
“I believe the correct word we are looking for is no,” you wanted to slap the stupid smirk off his face.
“Peter there is an easier way to do this,” you tried to reason with him, but he just wouldn’t listen.
“You mean there’s the wrong way to do this. I was given my instructions and now we will follow them, AS PLANNED OUT. If you don’t like how the Avengers run things, then maybe you should rethink your status in the program,” Peter stated as he kept his eyes locked on the bank.
This is what it’s been like for the entire week. You were starting to get agitated beyond belief by Peter’s smugness. What a cruel joke Fury decided to play on you. First, he makes Peter your partner, the most useless of all the Avengers when it came to missions and crime fighting. Next, his unwillingness to go off book for one measly second. If Peter could’ve known how much time he’d be saving by just bending the rules a little, he might be able to take on more serious tasks, unlike this stupid bank robbery tipoff he received earlier today.
Nevermind the other laundry list of reasons why you can’t stand Peter Parker and his dopey grin. Right now, you are thinking of good reasons why it would be impossible to get away with the murder of the most annoying person to ever walk the planet, in your opinion. While you were doing your own plotting, Peter was trying to keep his focus on the potential robbery and not the woman of his dreams next to him
__
The robbers made their move around 4 a.m. After countless hours of hearing Peter ramble on about Star Wars, chemistry, and his web fluid stuff you were thankful to end the night with some action. Peter made sure to take the lead while you were waiting at the back of the bank for a back up call. A stupid strategy, but supposedly Peter knew what was best and refused to go against orders.
Peter surprised the robbers by swinging himself down from the ceiling. There were four men trying to attack him and Peter fought every single one off without taking a breath. However, as things were going seemingly well they took a turn for the worst when one robber pulled out his gun and started to shoot. Peter faltered his steps and quickly dodged a bullet headed straight for his knee. During all this time you were watching from a small window, he still refused to call you for back up.
“Parker, you need my help, tap me in,” you said through your earpiece.
“No, no, uhh, I got it, thanks,” Peter responded quickly while dodging another bullet, this time to his shoulder.
“Parker, you're failing out there,” there was no response from Peter as he kept trying to tame the situation.
You huffed and decided to get to work. You really didn’t want to screw up your chances with this program, but you were left no choice. The line between Peter’s incompetence and stubbornness finally frayed and you just about had to butt in.
“I’m saving his life, I’m not breaking the rules… right?”
__
Peter was now tackled to the ground by two of the robbers. The one with the gun was reloading his bullets and the other was taking the money out of the machine. Somewhere along the line, they seemed to have damaged a part of his suit and he was bleeding out. That weakness alone was enough for the robbers to use all their strength and hold him down,
“It’s the end of the line for you, Spider-Man,” Peter started to freak out. Was it too late to call you?
“Hey boss, why don’t we see who’s under the mask,” one of the men holding him down said.
The “boss” agreed and began to walk his way towards Peter. He started to hyperventilate at the thought of not only his life ending, but his identity would be exposed.
The robber started to put his hands on the material of his mask, but not before he halted his actions and fell to the ground. Peter was stunned as were the rest of the men, but not for long.
“Hey, who’s that,” one man said as you came down from the ceiling where Peter had entered.
You have your few weapons at the ready and no time to waste. It had already been a long day and you were angry and exhausted. It took no time for you to wipe out the robbers and alert authorities of what went down. The men were hurt badly, but they should be okay, maybe.
Sirens were becoming louder as you quickly grabbed Peter and hauled him out of the back door and into the car. You whipped off his mask and started to check him for any injuries. When you went to touch a bruise on his face, he swatted your hand away.
“What did I tell you?” He said angrily.
“Peter I-“
“I said I would call you for backup and you defied me,” he pressed a button on his suit and it disappeared to his normal clothes.
“Peter you were choking out there! If I would’ve waited for your call you probably would’ve been dead by then! I saved your life, the least you could say is thank you,” you rolled your eyes and slumped back into your seat.
“Thank you? Y/N you blatantly went against my orders and did your own thing. Do you not have any respect for me?”
Your jaw dropped as Peter spoke those words. You cannot believe how irrational this boy was behaving. He was in trouble and you offered to help him.
“You know what Peter? No, no I don’t respect you. You were close to dying and I came in and saved your helpless ass. I have never met somebody so dimmwhitted, so stubborn, so incompetent, so STUPID, and so so SO annoying as you, Peter Parker. Come to think of it? How are you even an Avenger? Aren’t they supposed to have more than the one brain cell you seem to possess? Do they just let anybody be an Avenger or do we all have to suck up to Tony Stark just to get a spot on the team?”
“Get out,” Peter said through gritted teeth.
“What? Can’t handle the criticism?” You laughed as Peter slammed his hand on the center console, creating a dent.
“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT,” you were surprised at Peter’s tone of voice.
“Get out, get out of this car before you make me do something I’ll regret,” your eyes went wide as you got out of the car and started to run home.
__
Peter cried that night after he kicked you out of the car. Nobody, not even Mr. Stark talked to him the way you had. The girl he fantasized about each night had called him stupid, annoying, and possibly more hateful words in the English language synonymous to the ones she had said in the car.
Peter needed to take the weekend to himself to process everything. His heart was crushed and his emotions were conflicted. Even after all those terrible words, he still had some feelings for you. How could someone so perfect for him be so cruel to him at the same time?
He avoided everyone at the compound for the weekend. Usually he’d spend the few days there to work on some new tech with Mr. Stark or train with Bucky and Sam, but you lived there too and he couldn’t face you at the moment.
Peter was also screening calls from Fury. At the end of every mission with you, Fury would demand a status report. Peter would always have positive things to say about you, but this time he wouldn’t even know what to tell Fury.
After a movie with MJ and Ned to clear his head, Peter walked back home to the small apartment he shared with his Aunt May. He felt a little better after seeing some friends, but his heart still had a pang in it from your words. Was he really as annoying as you said he was?
Peter didn’t dwell on his thoughts for long before he felt himself getting pulled off the sidewalk and into a sleek black car. He tried to fight off whoever pulled him in, but he stopped struggling once he heard the ring of his cell phone.
“So, it does work,” Fury ended the call and scowled at Peter. “Any reason you haven’t been answering me?”
Peter took a deep gulp as he figured out what he was supposed to say. “Director Fury, I-”
“She finally cracked you,” he simply stated as Peter nodded in agreement.
“I didn’t know what to say because I’m afraid of how you’d react.”
“And what did she say?” Fury questioned.
When Peter told him the whole story from the robbery to her hateful words in the car, Fury just about had blown a fuse.
“SHE WHAT?” Fury expected the absolute worst from you, he’ll admit that, but blatantly insulting her superior crossed a huge line for him.
“Director Fury, I have it all-”
“No, Parker, I’m in the driver’s seat now. No more Mr. Nice Guy,” Fury called for the driver of his car to take off.
“Fury, please, just let me handle this,” it took a lot of convincing, but Fury came to an agreement with Peter.
“If you don’t get rid of her attitude and I find out that she continues to talk to you the way that she did, I’m terminating her position with S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Fury had no time for further discussion as he basically pushed Peter out of the car and sped out of Queens.
Oh, Peter was going to do all he could to make her obey him. It didn’t matter how he was going to train her, but when the time is right he’ll make his dreams come true. Peter was going to make his fantasies come true.
__
After about a week of no Peter Parker, the Avenger was back and surprisingly better than ever. He made no mention of the car incident and you didn’t want to bring it up either. In fact, Peter seemed to be his happy, normal self while the two of you trained together for an upcoming mission. He was cracking the same jokes and still rambling your ears off about the usual stuff. It shocked you to say the least, he held no ill will for you because of that night. Maybe he finally wised up and was starting to see things your way.
It seems as if lately Peter has become more lax with you. He didn’t get mad when you were just a little late for training sessions or when you would begin your back talk with him. It was as if Peter changed overnight into a completely chill person. Not that you minded at all, you would definitely be taking advantage of his easy going personality.
However, you did notice something in his eyes that you never seen before. You couldn’t pinpoint it, but it was almost like whenever you too got a little rough during training, he would enjoy it and try to push the limit. Maybe it was all a test to see how far your strength could go? Whatever it was, it kept you curious. Peter was acting different, but not too far off from his normal self.
“We have a mission tonight at the docks. Be ready at 10 and we can take turns being watch,” was all Peter said to you before he left the gym to go off with Mr. Stark.
You weren’t used to going on a mission so late. Peter always wanted to arrive at missions early just in case he was being fooled by a criminal. Of course, he always ended up being wrong and everything would happen later at night than in broad daylight (you tried telling him that and he simply waved you off).
__
You quickly rushed back to your room, slamming the door and triple checking that the locks were in place. The events from tonight’s mission left you speechless, shocked, horrified. Never in your life had you gotten out of a car and booked it to your room so fast. Peter Parker, Spider-Man, New York’s favorite defender, had done an unspeakable act.
It started out like always, just sitting in the car hiding out. Peter wasn’t talking as much so you decided you wouldn’t make conversation either. It was only until the criminals came to the docks where it all went downhill.
Peter told you the same thing he always had, he’ll call you if backup is needed. Of course, Peter found himself in hot water yet again and you decided to intervene. Only this time, you were met with more than just yelling and a kick out of the car.
“You didn’t listen,” the tone in Peter’s voice changed.
“Peter, c’mon now you were in trouble,” you began to speak, but he quickly cut you off.
“You didn’t listen, and now you’re gonna have to be punished,” Peter had a dangerous look in his eyes that scared you.
“Peter, if you’re gonna throw me out again I’ll save you the trouble and just leave. You know I don’t get why you have to be so stubborn all the damn time, if you just-,” as you were going to open the door, you heard the lock click.
“You didn’t listen, you need to be punished,” Peter began to lean closer to you as you pulled harder on the door.
“Peter, PETER,” you screamed as he put his hand on the front zipper of your top.
“Take this off,” you stayed still, “NOW!”
You rushed to take your top off and avoided the tears forming in your eyes. You fumbled with the zipper towards the bottom and Peter groaned impatiently. He grabbed the top and tore it off of you only leaving you in a bra.
You tried to look away from him and cover yourself in the process, but Peter wasn’t having any of that. He grabbed you by the chin with one hand as the other made its way to your chest. You tried to fight his intentions, but he wouldn’t have it.
“Stop moving. I’ll make this worse for you,” he grabbed your chin harder and you stopped trying to move.
He dipped his fingers into one of the cups and began to fondle your chest. Once Peter found your nipple, he circled it with the tip of his thumb. Peter was moaning as soon as it hardened. He never took his eyes off of you.
“Take off the bra,” Peter gave you a look that dared you to defy him. You quickly got rid of the bra and he took it and threw it in the back seat.
Peter was in awe, you were as beautiful as he imagined. Your bare chest and the tears in your eyes made him hard as a rock. He took his hand off your chin and began to palm himself through his suit.
Peter made his suit retract back into his regular clothing. He took your hands and placed them over the palm of his jeans. He pressed your hands down as you bit back a terrified whimper.
“Why don’t you help me out, yeah?” It wasn’t a suggestion judging by the look in his eyes.
You pulled down his zipper and didn’t go any further than that. Peter chuckled at you and brought your hand into the inside of his boxers. You couldn’t form any type of sounds as he made you hand travel through his patch of hair and up his cock. Peter was impressive, but there was no room for a pleasantly shocked emotion.
“Now take him out and finish what you started,” Peter pulled down his boxers and fully exposed himself to you.
You started off slow with a shaky rhythm. Who could ever be confident and cool in a situation like yours? Peter didn’t seem to like what you were doing and put his hand on top of yours. He guided you up and down his cock and took it off once he gave you a pace.
“Don’t be shy, go faster,” you picked up the pace as you saw Peter swipe some precum off his tip and shoved his finger into your mouth.
He didn’t even have to say anything to get you to start licking his fingers. You closed your eyes and Peter didn’t seem to stop you. The faster this was over with the faster you could finally be home.
After a fast few pumps, he was ready to come undone. He slowed you down and then demanded you picked up the pace. You were told to open your eyes and look at him, but you would close them again after a short few seconds. When he finally did cum, he brought your body close to his cock and let it all spill out on your chest. You felt disgusted, humiliated, and baffled that Spider-Man would take advantage of someone like you.
You opened your eyes once you heard the beep of a phone. Peter had his phone out and was taking a video of the whole thing. He took an additional few pictures and stashed his phone away in case you tried to grab it.
“You might want to clean yourself up, won’t take long to get back home,” Peter tucked himself away and started the car.
When you arrived at the compound you darted out of the car before he could say or do anything further to you. If he wanted to talk he would have to call you now.
You shed yourself of your clothes and began to scrub your body down. No matter how hot the water and how hard you scrubbed, the feeling of Peter on you will forever remain. You took a few showers once you thought the scent and act of Peter had washed off of you. When you left your bathroom it was well past 2 a.m.
Making sure the doors were locked for the hundredth time that night, you finally settled down into bed. You tossed and turned for the next hour until you heard your phone buzz. Not thinking anything of it, you picked it up to see who could be texting you so late at night. Your heart dropped once you saw the messages.
One after another Peter was sending you the videos and pictures that he had taken. Each one made your stomach turn more and more. He was mocking you.
Don’t ever disobey me again or I’ll send these out to everyone.
__
It took a lot to impress Nick Fury after everything he’s seen and been through. Alien invasions, aliens, cat aliens, raccoon aliens… a lot of aliens. However, nothing could’ve impressed him more than reading your progress report from Peter this morning. It took all of Fury not to frame the report and send emails to all of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents the news of this miracle.
It’s true, over the past weeks you’ve been ever so obedient to Peter. You didn’t move unless he told you to move, didn’t speak until given permission to, he had you right where he wanted you and you couldn’t do anything about it. Even if you thought of telling someone of his mannerisms towards you he would hold out his phone and get the file containing all those pictures ready in a “Send All” email.
Fortunately, Peter never touched you like that night again. True to his word, you would only be treated that way if you ever went against him again. Needless to say, you were walking on something sharper than egg shells. He would tease you spook you relentlessly, even going as far as locking the car door just to see you jump.
Even late at night he would spam your phone with obscene text messages just to taunt you. Sometimes he would send you photos of himself and when he asked for some in return, you had no choice but to give in. Day by day, this man was messing with you and you had no way of outing him.
Peter would be hot on your trail if he saw you making your way to Fury’s office. He would stop you before you could even get to his office corridor. Peter couldn’t have this getting out, his credibility would be ruined and Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers would see to it.
He wasn’t happy about what he did, but he didn’t feel a lot of guilt either. What he did that night in the car set something diabolical off in him. It felt good to take what he wanted right there and then. Peter couldn't help but be a little prideful about what he did. He even hinted to Sam a few times that something might’ve happened between you and him.
While he was gloating you were scheming your way into telling Fury what happened. You can’t go anywhere near the man without Peter right beside you, and you can’t call Fury because he never seems to answer his phone. In fact, Fury has been out of the office more and more lately, perhaps keeping up with the other Avengers or being involved with more aliens.
Regardless of what it was, the next time you saw Fury in person you would say something.
__
You finished off your makeup and were now putting on the expensive dress your fellow agents coaxed you into buying for the party tonight. The material was tight and it was a little hard to breathe, but you’d get through it. Your body was buzzing in anticipation and nerves as you checked your hair one more time before heading off to the gala.
Every year, the Stark x S.H.I.E.L.D. Gala was held to promote and spread awareness for local and international charities across the globe. You never had an interest in going before, but this year you were bugged by the other agents to go and Peter had expressed his interest in your presence at the party. If you didn’t show you were afraid of what he might pull in your absence.
The hotel was extravagant, from the way it was decorated to the mass amounts of people in their expensive suits and elegant gowns. You scanned the room for Peter, but saw no sign of him. He was either taking photos with the Avengers or watching you from afar, and you wouldn’t put it past him to do that.
While you didn’t see him you got to work finding Fury. You went through the humongous crowd of people just to see if you could catch a glimpse of him, you even started to ask around, but no one seemed to know where he could be. It felt like forever and you were beginning to lose hope that you would never find him. If anything was going to happen it had to be tonight.
A tap on your shoulder stopped you in your hectic search. You knew who it was just by the clear of his throat. You faced Peter with a nervous smile on your face as opposed to the devilish one on his.
“I‘ve been looking for you all night,” Peter drank in your appearance, “you look beautiful.”
You squirmed under his gaze while he lingered a little too long for your liking. When he was finally done ogling you, you saw the lust in his eyes grow. You gulped as he extended his hand.
“Dance with me?” The band started to play a slow song.
You looked at his hand and then up to his eyes which dared you to say now. Reluctantly, you grabbed his hand as he led you to the dance floor. Immediately, a few wandering eyes were on yours and Peter’s figure as he led the first dance.
“You know I’ve been thinking. Since you’ve been so perfect lately, I was going to recommend you to Stark for a spot on the Avengers,” your skin formed bumps as he spun you around.
“Could you imagine that? My obedient little angel fighting alongside me. Ugh, could there be anything more perfect?”
You were about to speak, but the music had stopped and all attention was directed to the stage. Up walks Fury and Tony Stark, Fury was first to take the podium and began his long speech about the gala and what supporting these charities means to him and everyone here tonight. You kept your eyes on him the entire time and ignored the words Peter was trying to whisper in your ear. You only started listening to him when he squeezed your waist hard causing you to yelp.
“I said, why don’t we go back to my room when this is all over, huh?” You froze when he ran his hand up and down your spine.
“Peter, don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate?” He hummed in disagreement with you and he wrapped his arms around your waist.
“Nonsense, I don’t even know why I asked, it’s not like you have a choice in the matter anyways,” the fucker laughed.
Your body was shaking and your face was turning red in anger. Peter was going to hold you down forever. There was no way you could ever escape someone as evil as him. Peter had a hold on you for as long as he wanted. You only had one chance to escape it seems and Fury had to be your ticket out.
Before you could form a response Fury handed over the mic to Tony. Fury stepped off the stage and you kept your eyes on him for the entire time. He was making his way out of the gala and you needed to be fast in order to catch him. Peter seemed too distracted by what Tony was saying so you loosened yourself out of his grip and stood beside him. Peter only glared at you for doing that, but you didn’t care, tonight would be the night you take down Peter Parker.
Slowly, you slinked away into the crowd as a round of applause sounded off for whatever Tony was saying. Peter didn’t seem to notice you leave and that’s when you took off. People were giving you disgusted looks as you began to run out of the ballroom and chase Fury.
You almost lost him in the elevators, but you took the steps and ran once you saw what floor he was heading to. You shucked off your heels and ran up the many steps to catch him. When you got to his floor, you pushed the stairwell door open and ran after him.
“Director F-,” you face planted.
Your ankles were tangled by some sort of slim rope and they wouldn’t come undone. Fury’s footsteps faded and new ones approached your struggling body. A pair of expensive shoes stopped right by your head as the body leaned down. You came eye to eye with an angry Peter Parker.
“Rebel, rebel,” he shook his head and hauled you up. You were beating on his back the entire time as tears formed in your eyes. The rope-like material was his webs which kept you trapped.
He went back in the stairwell and carried you up a few more flights until he came to his floor. The hallways were empty as everyone was still at the party. You tried to yell, but it only got you a harsh slap on your ass.
Peter stopped in front of his door and opened it. The second he closed it he threw you on the middle of the bed. He made his way to his suitcase and took out a pocket knife. You were screaming uncontrollably and he began to cut the webs loose. You knew better than to fight with a man with a knife, let alone Spider-Man with a knife.
“Rebel rebel, you’ve torn your dress,” Peter noticed the small tear towards the end of your gown and tore up the rest. “Rebel rebel, your face is a mess,” he looked at your makeup stained face. He put his thumb near your lips and began to smudge lipstick around your face.
“Rebel, rebel, what are we going to do about you?” Peter took off the rest of your dress. The only thing you were in was a lace thong. Peter licked his lips and began to trace the knife down your breast.
You were shaking, afraid that he might dig the knife deeper into your skin. Afraid that he was so mad at you he would go as far as to kill you. You started to whimper as Peter looked up. The smirk on his face grew wider and wider.
“Beg for me not to hurt you. Beg like the good little angel you are,” you were so close to not giving in, but Peter dug the tip of the blade into your skin just enough to pinch it.
“Please Peter, please, please don’t hurt me Peter,” he hummed in a way to tell you that he wasn’t convinced by the performance.
“Please Peter, I’ll do anything to please you. I’ll do anything to make you happy. Please Peter, I’m so sorry for being bad,” you were hysterical as he moved the knife further down your body. When he reached your center he chuckled and threw the knife to the other side of the room. He roughly grabbed you by your scalp and made you come face to face with him.
“Anything?” You shook your head in agreement. “Alright, I wanna fuck that naughty mouth.”
Peter pulled off his suit pants and became complete bare from the waist down. He pumped his cock a few times before grabbing your jaw and forcing your mouth open. He didn’t give you any time to get used to his size as he put all of himself in your mouth. He grabbed you scalp rougher this time and pushed your head up and down. Tears formed in your eyes again as you were forced to take him down your throat. He was a moaning and groaning mess until his thrust started to falter. Peter quickly pulled out watching in awe and the trail of saliva connected from your mouth to his cock.
Peter quickly sat you up and ripped off your underwear in the process. He started to rub his fingers along your folds where he found that you were wet. He smirked and chuckled as he continued rubbing up and down to make you become slicker than before. You tried biting back your moans, but Peter would only press down harder on your clit which caused you to cry out.
“See, I’m not so bad, princess. I could be good to you if you’re good to me,” he removed his fingers and pushed you down on the mattress.
“Peter, please,” you didn’t know if you wanted him to stop or urge you on.
“I know honey, I know. Just lay down and let me make you feel good,” Peter rid himself of the rest of his clothes and slotted himself between your legs.
His tip began to enter you and the rest of his length painfully stretched you out. You squirmed a little, but Peter reassured you it would feel better soon. Sure, he wasn’t your first, but it had been a long time since the last guy and you were a bit tight.
“Oh, angel, you really do feel like heaven,” he started to thrust a little faster.
Pretty soon, Peter was getting really rough with his thrust and making you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. Peter got carried away and didn’t realize how fast he was going on you. You felt an orgasm building and were trying to communicate that to Peter but couldn’t form the words. Peter felt you tighten around him just a little too hard and he took that as the signal to pull out. After all, he did want to see his crush cum, for him and only him.
You felt the rush of your orgasm after Peter pulled out. When you looked up at him, his chest was covered in the slick sheen of sweat mixed with your arousal.
“Holy shit, you squirted. That’s got to be the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Peter went back inside you and hoisted himself on his knees and making you face to face with him. “I wanna see that again, and again, and a hundred more times.
He didn’t slow down no matter how many times you tried to beg and plead. Peter ripped out orgasm after orgasm from you and it only coaxed him to go harder and faster. Your bodies were covered in each other’s sweat and you were beginning to get a little tired. However, your eyes quickly shook away their tiredness when you felt fingers prodding your other hole.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” and as Peter continued his thrusting, he pushed one finger into your tight muscle and pounded into you harder.
“Aww fuck this feels so good,” Peter cried out one last time and finally came inside you.
You both collapsed onto the bed still connected to each other. Tears formed in your eyes once the shock wore off. He had finally gotten what he wanted from you.
__
Only a week went by when you had finally heard from Fury again. This time, he wanted to speak with you privately in his office. Your time with the Avengers program was up and he wanted to give his final thoughts.
“Well Agent, I am shocked to be saying this, but I am thoroughly impressed by your behavior with Peter. A little rough in the beginning, but I’m glad to see you both worked through your differences,” you wanted to scoff, but you wouldn't put a damper on Fury’s mood.
After that night in the hotel, the sex became a regular thing. Peter would demand and you were forced to give in. His punishments were still ongoing as he was still mad at you for trying to snitch on him to Fury, but now that the program has ended you and Peter Parker wouldn’t be seeing each other at all.
“And because of your improving behavior I’ve decided to push through your request,” you furrowed your brows in confusion.
“Request?”
“You know, your request to join the Avengers team officially. Parker has been raving about your skills and training that we decided to recommend you for a spot on the team. You’ll have to meet with Mr. Stark for a few interviews and sessions, but seeing as Peter has talked so fondly of you there is no doubt in my mind you wouldn't be offered the spot.”
You stayed frozen in your seat as Fury went on and on about you. You only left when he dismissed you, reminding you that Tony Stark would be contacting you soon.
When you shut the door behind you, you began to freak out. Peter was planning on keeping you as his. At this point, there would be no way out unless you either die, face embarrassment and let the video get leaked, or wait around until Peter gets bored. Knowing Peter and his fatal attraction to you none of those could happen.
On your way back to your room, you heard the familiar footsteps you’ve grown too disgusted to know. You turned around to face the man who would be running you entire life for who knows how long. Just as you were about to speak he opened his mouth first.
[Warnings] peter parker x dark reader, yandere reader, sub!peter, dom!reader, crime boss au, stalker au, senior year au, kidnapping, violence, underage drinking, noncon sex, oral sex (male receiving), bondage, peter and reader are 18
A/N: This is inspired by two ideas I received as well as the lyrics “I will have you, yes, I will have you. I will find a way and I will have you. Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly, I will collect you and capture you.” Obsession- Animotion for @mariessecretfantasies 500 Follower Writing Challenge! Please go follow her and read her dark fics :)
TRIGGERING ADULT CONTENT AHEAD
In which Peter won’t love you so you force him to.
word count: 3.4k
main masterlist
Mr. Shum was famous. You, his daughter, were not. This led you to hosting parties at your father’s mansion to up your cool points. It was senior year and, since everyone wanted to party, you were often the one people called. Your father didn’t mind, it only solidified his cover as a gracious and kind businessman. His kind eyes and humor was enough to make a lot of believe it but you knew that you were the only person he was kind to.
You’d seen enough severed limbs to know that was true.
Brad had set the entire thing up and all you had to do was order your servants to get things in order. Peter was coming tonight and you’d finally get the chance to properly thank him for saving your life a few months ago. Maybe you’d even confess your feelings and the life you always dreamed of would start tonight.
Maybe you’d start with like instead of love. You loved him but maybe telling him that would scare him away. You didn’t want him to run from you.
You had known Peter since fifth grade but he still felt out of touch with him. You were never more than friends. Not even close friends, practically acquaintances. That was going to change.
The dress you were wearing was completely out of your comfort zone but you did your best to dress like the other girls did at your school. It was a silver body con dress that gripped your curves and highlighted features that you didn’t even know you had. When Brad saw you, his mouth was completely agape, “Woah, you look great!” Your mouth began to tug into a smile but, before you knew it, he was shoving a large paper bag into your hands, “Put this in the punch, will you?”
You looked down to see several bottles of vodka, “Is that safe?” You asked, your tone worried.
“Yeah, of course,” Brad insisted, starting to walk away, “This is going to be amazing, Y/N!”
You sighed walking over to the refreshments table. People were already starting to show up and soon the entire senior class would be there. You twisted open the bottles and poured them to the glass bowl. It wasn’t long before kids were shoving their red cups into the mixture.
After you were done, you simply dusted your hands together and went to look for your spider darling. Your giant living room flashed with multicolored lights as a song by a rapper you didn’t know played loudly over everyone’s shouting. Like instinct, you could sense where he was. You found him slouched against a white pillar, sipping at a red solo cup.
He was wearing one of his nice button ups and a pair of jeans. Oh god, you loved the color blue on him. Any color looked good on him actually, “Hi, Peter,” You smiled, tapping his shoulder. He seemed to be distracted but you blamed it on the alcohol, “Enjoying the party?”
As his head turned and those brown eyes looked into yours, your heart melted, “Y-Yeah,” He stuttered awkwardly, leaning his hand against the pillar, “Your house i-is beautiful … nice decor.”
“You think so?” You tried not to seem eager as you imagined Peter coming over all of the time. After school to study … maybe the two of you taking a dip into the pool. You imagined that his body was heavenly. Sculpted by a God-
“Yeah, it’s great,” Peter grinned. He grinned at you, “Y-You look nice. I’ve never seen you dress like that.” Did he think you were cute or was he trying to spare your feelings? Did he prefer how you normally dressed? You were overthinking.
“I’m trying something new. You look nice too,” Peter nodded his thanks, “You’re drinking?” You gestured to his cup.
“Nope, sprite,” Peter said, “May would kill me and I have to make sure Ned gets home in one piece. I don’t know if alcohol is really my thing…”
Did he look down on you because you were throwing a party that was serving alcohol? Did he look down on you because you were drinking? You held your cup close to your side as you said, “Me too. I mean, I don’t really get the people who can only have fun when they’re drunk …” You were sure your conversation wasn’t going well but Peter still seemed to be receptive to you. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe he did have feelings for you, “So, we’ve missed you at Academic Bowl.”
“I’ve missed you guys too,” Peter said, causing your cheeks to heat. You knew he was referring to everyone in Academic Bowl but you couldn’t help but take it personally, “I wish I had the time. This moment right here is the only freedom I’ve had in like six months.”
“And you’re spending it caring for a drunk Ned?” You raised an eyebrow.
Peter shrugged, chuckling, “Well, when you say it like that it sounds crazy,” You loved his laugh. You loved how he nervously tucked his hand into his front pocket.
“Peter, I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a while,” He perked up and looked at you attentively like he actually cared. You played with the ends of your dress nervously, looking down a bit as you decided to finally let your feelings go, “That day on the bridge when our bus was about to go over the edge … I never knew real fear until then. I thought I’d experienced all the trauma in the world but nothing could compare to that a-and you save me. I’ve never really met someone who’s cared for other people so much … It made me start thinking,like actually thinking about things and-”
As you looked up, you noticed he was looking past you. He had completely tuned out of your speech, and as you turned your head, you got a glimpse of what he was looking at. MJ was standing by the mantle of the fireplace, talking to some girl.
You couldn’t breathe. Your heart was shattering. Peter reached out to grab your shoulder, “I’m so sorry. Keep going, please.”
You shook your head, a fake smile on your lips, “It’s fine. I have to do something. Thanks for coming!” You scurried off before he could utter another world. The moment you turned back, he was already gone and walking over to MJ.
You crushed your cup, causing the liquid to spill out.
You could kill MJ. She already broke Peter’s heart so why was he running back to her? Why couldn’t she let you have him? Why was everyone so hell-bent on destroying your happiness? Your thoughts were overwhelming and the only thing that seemed to keep them at bay was Brad’s special punch.
+
You tossed your cup down, watching it fall three stories to the ground. Looking over, you wondered if you could survive the drop. As you lost your balance for a moment, you pressed your back against the roof, giggling. Your world was spinning so much.
It was a wonder that you hadn’t fallen off from climbing up here in the first place. You took a deep breath and pulled out your phone. You scrolled through your contacts, your vision blurry, before recognizing the heart emojis attached to his name.
You closed your eyes for a moment as you pressed the phone to your ear. You guessed he was in the middle of a conversation, the hint of laughter and joy in his voice, “Y/N? You’re calling me from your own party?”
His voice only reminded you of why you loved him in the first place. You hated the control he had over your every emotion. You hated how you craved him and he remained oblivious to it.
“I didn’t … I didn’t want to throw the party. I just wanted to see you. I wanted you to see me in this dress,” Your voice was solemn as you slurred into the phone.
“I got that you had to tell me something but then you stormed off … You sound very drunk. Where are you exactly?”
You shook your head as if Peter could see you right now. You opened your eyes and the night sky was above you, “I try so hard … nothing ever works out the way I want.”
“You try so hard to do what? Where are you, Y/N?” You could hear him moving around, his feet shuffling, and the murmur of Pop music.
You looked around, “On the roof … I needed fresh air.”
“On the roof? And you’re drunk?”
“I think …” Your voice trailed off, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m over everything. I was being crazy. I get so attached sometimes even though it hurts me-”
“Please don’t move, Y/N, I’m going to help you down,” You sat up from your position which only made your head spin more.
“Peter, just listen to me! You never listen to me,” You pouted, “You never see me. I have to accept that it’s never going to change. You’re gonna chase the girls who break your heart, not the ones willing to love you …. Peter? Peter?” You heard nothing from the other side.
Before you even had time to be disappointed, Peter’s head peeked over the side of the roof, “How did you even get up here?” Peter groaned, lifting himself up. He was still a good twenty feet away from where you had wandered on the slanted roof.
Peter actually came. He cared enough to talk to you in person. You’d been wrong about him. It caused you to grin but Peter’s face only held worry. Peter began to slide towards you, even taking a second to look over and see how far the drop was, “Give me your hand,” He ordered you as he moved closer.
You proceeded to pull your feet from over the edge and try to stand up, “Just let me tell you how I feel-”
“Y/N,” He whisper shouted your name, attempting to not frazzle you, “Sit back down, please.”
“If I don’t tell you now then I’ll never get the chance!” You slurred, trying not to stumble.
“You’re going to kill yourself, please sit back down,” Peter said back, every step closer only caused you to step back. Peter stopped, subtly trying to equip his web-shooters.
“It doesn’t matter! I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not mine-” A shriek left your lips as you finally stepped the wrong way and you fell over the edge. You waited for the impact but the jolt you felt was not from the pavement. You were spinning and, as you looked up, a web was connecting you to Peter.
Peter let out a heavy sigh as he pulled you up. He carried you back to the balcony. The two of you didn’t stay upright for long because your knees gave out and Peter caught you with his arms. He softly brought you to the ground and you stared up into those brown eyes with admiration.
He saved you.
You reached up to touch his cheek, “Y-You love me?”
“Jesus,” Peter shook his head, “What?”
Suddenly, you were sober.
You noticed a crowd had gathered around the two of you. You looked like a disaster, your dress riding high, and your mascara running down your face. Peter pulled your hand away, an exhausted look on his face. He stood up before saying, “Can someone get her some water? And find her somewhere to sleep?” That was all he said before he left the balcony.
This was different than any other rejection you had ever felt.
+
“Darling, it’s the ninth day you haven’t gone to school.”
You didn’t look up from your desk as your father entered your room. You were still typing at your computer, writing a scientific article for your organic chemistry class. You were still typing away as you felt a hand on your shoulder. It caused you to pause as your lips pressed into a thin line.
“I’m getting my work done,” You said to him, still not willing to look at him. You weren’t going to school and you were using your work to distract you from the fact that you asked Peter Parker if he loved you in front of a bunch of people. Not to mention that you drunkenly fell off your own roof.
Peter hadn’t attempted to contact you, and judging by the talk you heard online, you were officially psychotic in everyone’s minds.
Your father set a white box on your desk and you immediately recognized the log. DONATELLI”S PASTRIES. You opened the box to find your favorite, a red velvet cupcake, “Thank you,” You said, your mood threatening to improve.
Your father sure did know how to buy your affection.
He sighed before saying, “I hate to see that boy breaking my little girl’s heart. First, he threatens my business, a goddamn child is getting my partners arrested, and now this. I preferred it when he was fighting aliens.”
Your fist clenched tightly as you listened, “Superheros think they can do whatever they want.”
Your father agreed, “I really came in here to propose an idea to you,” You perked up at that, “What if I told you I could take care of your spider-boy problem?”
“How?”
“It’s a matter of keeping him distracted long enough to strike. Putting civilian lives on the line seems to do it for him. Besides that, I’ve come into a very valuable resource that will keep him sedated long enough to toss him into the Hudson and makes sure he sinks to the bottom.”
You thought for a long moment, “I don’t want you to kill him, Dad.”
Your father cocked his head to the side, his eyebrow raised, “You know you collect things … Mr. Medina’s left pinky … that police officer’s badge,” Your father was well aware of what he did with his enemies but he had not expected his daughter to take after him, “I want to add him to my collection.”
“I see,” Your father nodded, “Then it’s done. Anything for my little girl.”
A spider for your collection.
You smiled wickedly.
+
It was a screaming bus of children. That’s what landed Spiderman in the clutches of Mr. Shum. Luckily, they had survived but Peter wasn’t sure if he would. His face was dripping with blood and the bullet wound to his abdomen didn’t look to be healing anytime soon.
Peter hung from the ceiling by his wrist, the chains he suspected were made of vibranium or at least a knock off version of it. His spidey sense was completely off and his swollen eyes didn’t even allow him to see the punches as they came.
Peter fought as hard as he could but the darkness eventually consumed him.
He awoke to the feeling of warmth being pressed to his skin. As his eyes slowly opened, he found a smiling you hovering over you. Immediately Peter jolted up but was pulled back by chains attached to the bedpost. As he attempted to move his legs, he felt the same thing.
You shushed him, “Hey, calm down, you’re going to tear your stitches,” You whispered, dabbing the wet cloth against his face. Peter flinched at your touch but you kept it up. You were straddling his waist and as Peter looked down he realized he was completely naked, “I didn’t think you’d wake up so soon-”
“Y/N, what the hell is going on?” Peter’s voice was tired, desperate, his face starting to turn red, “Where are my clothes?”
“I had to give you a bath, it’s been days since you passed out,” You told him and it frightened Peter how calm you were, “I’m not like my father, I’m going to take care of you. He just had to show you what would happen if you tried to hurt me.”
Peter watched as you hinted at his bandaged abdomen, “Why? Why are you doing this?”
“Because I love you,” You grinned, running your hands over his muscular chest. You assumed right. His body was completely perfect and now it was all yours.
“Don’t say that,” Peter winced.
You leaned down closer to his face, “I’ve loved you for a long time, Peter.”
“Don’t say that!” Peter started pulling at the chain again which only led you to press your fingers, hard into the bandage on his abdomen. The boy cried out in pain and it broke your heart.
“Why don’t you love me too?” You asked, starting to grow frustrated, “I love you so much but you don’t even care! Why can’t you just love me back?”
“Because that’s crazy!” He shouted back, “We’re only friends and kidnapping me is not going to change that!”
“Kidnap?” You questioned, shaking your hand, “You are my one and only love, Peter. How can it be kidnapping if I must be with you? If I must have you as my soulmate?”
“Y/N, please. My family and this city needs me-”
“And MJ needs you?” You pressed your hand against his chest, staring him down, “Huh? The girl who rejects you and yet you chase her while I’m here willing to love you. If only you loved me back-”
“Y/N,” Peter tried to calm himself and ration with you, “If you just let me go, we could make this work. You’re right, I’ve been blind. I’ve been chasing MJ when I should’ve been chasing you.”
Your shoulders slumped and your eyes seemed to lighten as you heard his words, “You mean it?”
Peter nodded eagerly, “Y-Yes, and we could go on a date together. We could get to know each other more,” You were nodding now, the idea of it sounding completely magical. This was all you ever wanted, “If you undo the chains, we could do that.”
Your mouth quickly turned to a frown and you sighed. Peter watched as you went still, “I can’t risk it. You’ve shown me time and time again that you don’t know what’s good for you,” Peter shook his head, the fear starting to settle in as your hands rubbed up and down his chest. Peter continued to flinch as they moved lower, towards the area between his legs, “You’ll have to learn to love me, Peter.”
“S-Stop,” Peter begged as you finger traced along his length. Like the teenage boy you knew he was, he easily started to grow hard beneath your grasp.
“I’m not one of those girls who thinks you should save your virginity for marriage. I think you should wait until you meet the right person,” You palmed his cock in your hand, feeling it getting harder. You watched as he pulled at his chains and his face contorted into different expressions of disgust and desperation, “And you’re my person, Peter.”
You licked your palm, lubricating it before placing it back on his cock. You pulled and tugged, pumping up and down. You smirked as moans threatened to escape those pink lips. You leaned down and, as Peter turned his head, you placed kisses along his jaw.
“Y/N, please…” He begged.
“Please keep going? Please show your love for me by milking me dry?” He shook his head and you grinned, “My hearts been a toy for you all these years, perhaps now you'll understand what it is to be someone’s toy.”
You moved down Peter’s body, planting kisses and hickies before your mouth reached the member between his legs. Peter lifted his head, watching, “Okay, okay, I understand! Don’t please!” You felt his legs thrash as your tongue licked his pink tip.
You held onto his muscular legs as your tongue swirled around his tip. Peter’s head flew back in ecstasy as you took him further into your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue still swirling.
His deep groans effectively soaked the area between your legs and you loved how they turned to whimpering and pleading. Peter lasted longer than you expected but it wasn't long before his body contorted and warm liquid sprayed down your throat and into your mouth. As you removed your mouth, you continued to pump his softening cock which caused him to thrash around even more from the over stimulation.
You swallowed what was left in his mouth and began to kiss up his body. His eyes gave a look of defeat, “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell you how much you liked it,” You said as you kissed his neck, “Baby steps, right?”
You laid down beside him, basking in his warmth. Now you weren’t just the awkward daughter of the famous Mr. Shum. You loved somebody and that somebody was going to love you.
Summary: Anniversary dinner gone wrong. The unpleasant aftermath.
Warnings: noncon, dubcon, smut, sexual content, slight manipulation, mentions of Hydra, breeding kink if you look hard enough, female masturbation, mentions of drugs.
Word count: 2.3k
Pairing: Dark!Reader x Steve Rogers
A/N: So here’s my entry for @mariessecretfantasies challenge (congrats on 500 followers, yay!). I got the second prompt, “In illusion comfort lies. The safest way, the straight and narrow, No confusion no surprise.” I struggled a bit with the lyrical prompt and the whole writing process in general but I managed to push through with this idea. In the end, I think it ended up quite well (lol). This is my second fic ever written and I just kept this in my draft for a while before mustering up enough courage to hit send. I hope y’all enjoy this unedited mess! Any feedback is welcomed 🥺
Steve should have known better. That her smile was way too sweet. That her laughter was so intoxicating that he got drunk on it for the first time in his life. That everything she did was calculative. That her touch was leading him on. That her sweet, innocent face was all but a mask. That perhaps there was something hidden behind her eyes. That perchance she had approached him just for this day.
These thoughts wrestled themselves restlessly in his head, creating an inebriating mixture of wistful thinking and harsh reality. As much as he had despised what she stood for, at the end of the day, Steve would hate to admit that a part of this was actually his fault. Letting her in so easy after years of putting up walls around him, afraid that he would endanger other people, only to end up in this particularly compromising situation.
The cold, metal door sounded a click, drawing his attention to the lithe figure that was coming in. She looked perfect as always, though her hair was a bit disheveled, shapely face, full, kissable lips and stealthy y/e/c eyes. He wanted to destroy the pretentious smile she was spotting right now, as much as he wanted to bruise her lips with his. The thought did not surprise him. After all, that was what drew Steve to this woman in the first place.
She drew a chair closer to seat herself in front of him. The American golden boy was now bound tightly to an intricate recliner that was equipped with electric lines running along the sides. His hands were placed on the armrest, two strong, metallic, rounded tongs biting painfully into his wrists while his ankles and torso faced the same fate. Steve had tried his best to break through the clamps but he only earned back cutting electric shocks. Besides, Steve was sure they had put some drugs into his system in order to weaken his sense of judgment and mobility.
She pursed her cherry lips, a frown slight grazed her face as she stood up to get closer to him. “Poor baby,” she teased cruelly, “all pretty and bound up like this.” She fisted his hair, pulling his face forward as she continued her taunting. She was so close to him right now, the slight scent of her favorite perfume was now filling his space, triggering a chain reaction deep within his battered mind. He could hear the spokes and gears turning, pushing up a memory of the first time they had met each other.
Now that he had seen everything clearly, perhaps that was all a ploy to place her in his life. He had been deployed for a rescue mission of a hijacked ambassador in a small country near the border of Slovakia. The threats were identified and eliminated quickly and without any collateral damages. When he made his way to the rescued victims, it was somehow as if fate had decided to turn his head to the right side to meet the gaze of the young girl, who despite her age, carried such a fervent fire in her eyes. She was so sweet, Steve had remembered. She personally sought after him after things had settled down to thank him. He recalled vividly jacking himself off and cumming violently to the memory of her biting her lips shyly, secretly touching his body.
And when months later they met at a national security convention, Steve decided to turn coincidences into a blooming relationship, which ended with the 3-month anniversary he had set up, where she had tempered the wine and food.
“Don’t tell me you were thinking about how we first met,” she let out a mocking laugh and landed a peck on his right cheek, “It was almost too easy.” She straddled herself onto his lap now, hands snaking around his neck, tilting his head slightly up to meet her hot mouth. “I really thought you were not fooled,” she slipped her tongue inside, “but I saw you, you know.” Light feathery kisses landed on the corner of Steve’s mouth as he turned to the side, refusing to let Y/N toy with his heart. “You were magnificent. All hunched up, cock in hand,” she continued her assault with kisses all over his face, “oh and when you cum.” She faked a shudder, mimicking his action while started to grind her hips on his length, which was growing without Steve being aware of it.
“You were so innocent, I must say. It’s like you get a hard-on for saving any innocent souls being harmed.” Y/N withdrew the hands around Steve’s neck as she moved to unbutton her white blouse, revealing the same colored bra underneath. He swallowed tightly as her intention became clearer, as was his raging hard-on. “Y/N, please, let me go,” he yanked on his restraint, “Or I swear to God, when I get out of here, I will hurt you more than you ever know.” To his surprise, she only let out a laugh and continued on removing any articles of clothing left. And when she finished, Y/N went to her knees, hands trailing absentmindedly on his thighs, which she had pushed wide apart. “Would it hurt more than what I’m about to do, Captain?” she fluttered her eyelashes, “cause I sure as hell would enjoy it while I could.”
With that, she undid his trousers and pulled the zipper down, the sound of clashing metal prompted him to struggle against the bindings one more time. Yet, when she reached in to palm his length through the fabrics of his boxers, Steve could feel himself pushing his hips into her hand. He let out a subdued groan as she continued her assault, teasing him with the softness and warmness of her hands. “Beg me, Captain,” she pulled the band of fabric down, letting his hot flesh slap against his stomach as he grew accustomed to the cold air, “I will suck it if you beg me to.” To prove her words, she stuck out her tongue and gave his cock a lavish sweep on the tip while pumping it, forcing precum to gather on the slit atop.
Steve gripped his armrest firmly, refusing to give in to the temptation she was presenting. Her tits were spilling from the small white bra she had picked out and if he squinted his eyes hard enough, he could see her nipples growing through the thin materials. Two hard peaks waiting to be suckled on. Sensing his gaze, Y/N smirked and slipped his cock in between her breasts, pushing them together and sliding in a dangerously low pace up and down his length. “Ooh, you like this, Captain,” she continued on, even sucked on the tip every time his cock neared her tantalizing mouth, “Just say the word and I’ll be yours.”
He could not take it anymore. The dual combination and visual and physical assault on his senses were too much and Steve knew he had to compromise. “Please, baby, please,” his breathing was so rapid, “Put it in all the way. Suck on it. Let me fuck your mouth.” He rolled his hips forward, struggling against the constraint to chase the pleasure he did not know the name to. “Y/N, I want to come all over your tits,” Steve breathed out harshly as she obeyed his words, nestled his cock tightly in between and picked up the pace. Her mouth hovered seductively over his flesh, providing it with occasional suckles, which Steve found torturous as all he wanted to was to rammed his cock deep down her throat and felt the vibrating of the deep tunnel around his raging hard-on. And it was like she read his mind. Y/N moved to release his length from between her tits and take him into her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down his cock while looking up into his eyes with sweetness. Steve erupted without any warning, his thick white seed spilled down her throat and overflowed her swollen lips down to her chest. “Delicious,” she remarked and swallowed it all, “don’t wanna waste any of this.”
Shame filled Steve after he had come down from the high. He was supposed to be the beacon of goodness in dark times, the definition of good and righteous, yet here he was, chained to a high-tech restraining system, his cock twitching with excitement with the thought of fucking his ex-girlfriend’s cunt after he had taken her mouth. Steve knew full well he must start looking for a way out of this, but his head ran empty as Y/N push her panties to the side, revealing her wet and glistening cunt as she plunged to fingers deep into it. She had turned around to give him the glorious view of her rounded ass and pussy being stretched by two slender fingers. Her wanton moans filled his ears and before he knew it, Steve was hard again. “Did you fantasize about this as well, Steve?” she purred, “fucking this cunt with your hard cock?”. She seemed to hit a spot within her walls as her knees lost balance and she had to lean on her right leg. She increased her speed now, breathing harder and profanity was spilling from her lips like poisonous enchantment. “I dreamed about you taking me as well,” her idle right hand was now rubbing on the sweet bundle of nerves, “from behind.” Another moan. “You pulled my hair real hard.” And another. “And your cock hit that spot every time your entered.”
Y/N was on the floor now, her knees bent wide open to let Steve see the mess between her legs. “And when you cum, you made me call you Captain. Fuck me, please Captain, please. Fuck.” She came violently while shouting his name. From this angle, Steve could see everything. How her juices spilled over her pussy lips onto the floor, how her ass was begging to spanked, how her knees scraped against the hard concrete as she relished the friction. Y/N settled herself on his laps, her core dangerously close to the head of his cock and Steve thought for a moment if he could sway his hips just a bit, she would slide right in.
“So, Captain, are you ready to beg?”
But Y/N was well aware of his desire. She wanted to tease out the weak man that was hidden behind the muscles that were enhance decades ago. “Say “Fuck me, Y/N, princess” and I will let you have it,” she licked her dry lips, leaned in closer and pushed her juice-coated fingers into his mouth, “Come on, Captain. I know it’s right there. Captain, I will make you feel good.” Steve tried to remain in control of his lust-filled mind, yet he was well aware he was tethering on an alarming edge as he felt his command slipping away faster and faster with every kisses she was placing on his neck and her teasing hands on his sensitive nipples. In the end, lust won over.
Y/N kissed Steve squarely on the mouth, their tongues engaging in a final dance for dominance as she lifted herself up slightly to slide him inside. They both let out a loud groan when he felt his entire length was encased by velvety warmth. She started slowly at first, letting herself getting used to his girth, then, Steve could feel the change in her. Y/N picked up her speed as she bounced at a violent rate in his lap. His name was on her lips like a pray that she kept on repeating. She reached in between the tangling bodies to rubbed the hard swollen nub. The tension was brewing in his balls and Steve pushed his hips up to meet hers with every thrust. He groaned out loud, “Fucking hell, Princess. You are so tight. Your cunt is latching onto my cock.” His words were only met with the hard sound of flesh slapping on each other.
“Steve...I think I’m close,” she slacked off against his broad chest, “do you want to cum, Captain?” She tried to straighten her back, gripping her tits and bringing them close to his mouth. “Suck on ‘em and beg me like the good Captain you are,” she grunted out breathlessly. And Steve obeyed her every word. His tongue dashed out to suckle on her sensitive buds, making them swollen as he gripped them with his teeth. In the meantime, Y/N reached down to palm Steve’s ball, while she was bouncing harder now, each determined thrust was met with the same intense movements of the man beneath. Heavy moans were followed by a harmony of shouting and grunting as the two came without care, their white fluids mixing together and dripping on the chair.
“You didn’t beg, Captain,” Y/N murmured under her breath in his ear, “I think I might have to punish you.”
--------------------------
“You know that was not supposed to happen Y/N. Your mission was to get information out of him and nothing else,” the older man sitting across sternly admonished her, but his words just went into one ear and out the other. She stared quietly at the black and red skull and tentacles emblem behind him, feeling its fire burning within her. In the back of her mind, Steve Rogers took her father away, it was only fair after all, that he provided her with a child.
Summary: Bucky has a way with words and actions, a true machiavellian under that pearly smile and those stormy eyes, well he knows he has the reader wrapped around his little finger, putty in his hands and he knows exactly how to mold her.
Pairing: Dark!Bucky x Naive!Reader
Word count: 1605
Warnings: TW/mentions of sexual assault, cockwarming, manipulation, edging, overstimulation.
A/N: so this is an entry for @mariessecretfantasies 500 followers challenge based losely on the lyric prompt 23 or Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) by David Bowie, and also my first attempt at writing Dark bucky so any and all constructive criticism is welcome!
He takes his time with you, never in a hurry, never afraid. He isn't scared of losing the feel of your soft skin under the palm of his hands, your legs that wrap so well around him, the mouth he drinks out of, he consumes you everyday. To the brink and back, leave you heaving and broken but you'll never leave,
This is what he did, this is his reward, that's what he wanted and so it's what he has, his silly little woman wrapped like a coil around his little finger,
He watched you with half lidded eyes, his strong arms folded behind his head and the hints of a smirk that stretchs his lips, he'll let you exhaust yourself, before he makes a move, low whines rumbling through your chest
"Buckyyy, please" your head lulled back and your perfect tits in the air with every bounce, your hands on his abdomen, you stop every once in a while, pressing your hands down and grinding your hips, scratch your nails down his chest, make promises, anything for him to just please let you get there,
No matter how hard you try it just isnt the same, your strength is always less compared to him, and this drive to reach the high, with him, but he wouldn't give in, not that easily
You've always been so useless on your own, you know it too "please! I-I promise I'll be better, I'm stupid anyway, please bucky I won't ask you again" you whine again, it feels like it's been hours, your body and all its nerves on fire with need but he looked much too pleased with the little game.
Your shoulders slumped, body tingling with the overwhelming feeling of fullness but nothing more, body falling forward onto his chest, and those pearly tears on the harbor waiting for release when he speaks
"I don't know why you do it" he tsked, your whimpers in his ear as he looks down at the mess of hair and sweaty limbs on top of him, "asking me if you could go to the city, when I've told you that you can't, Don't you trust me?" He asked you, face pressed into his chests and soft sobs choked out,
"Look at me Y/N" you could hear your heart crack more, why did he call you by your name? Had you done it this time? What if he didn't want anything to do with you now?
"Why would you want to go there? In that danger? You know what would've happened if I hadn't found you don't you? I've given you anything you could want and more? So why do you always want to leave? Am I not enough?"
Big sad eyes peered into the bright azure of his, the pearly tears shining under the dim sunlight, you were a vision, so perfectly compliant, putty in his hands. He had you by the throat, his fingers pressing where it hurt and he knew that he had won the round, He was pygmalion and you were his best creation,
"No-No you're perfect bucky, so much better than I deserve, you've given me everything, I promise I won't ask again, I don't even know what i was thinking please don't leave me" you said quick and breathless, all choked up and he knew that you were close to a breakdown,
He operated these strings, he knew how to push you and he knew your limits, the perfect woman, a beautiful little doll and he was the handler.
"Leave you? Oh honey I could never" he changes it, his tone sympathetic, his eyes morose "are you sure that you don't want to leave?"
Hold the string that aches the deepest, gather it hard, dig with your nailbeds and pull
"No I promise! I love you, only you Sergeant please" he growled, you knew how to push him too,
"I'm yours please bucky take me"
You had to say no more, he turned you over at the speed of light, fingers digging into your thighs, he pushes your legs up, stuck so well against him,
He's heard your whines and he's heard your pleas, and hes seen what a perfect mess you can be and he wants all of it, every inch of it and more, he wants to destroy you, his, that's all you are and that's all you need to be,
So he gives it to you, hard and fast, hips jutting at the speed of light, he'd leave you struggling to hold on, so you could do nothing but take it, take him, anything and everything he would give you,
His doll squeals against him, one moment the squeals are muffled by his mouth and then the regal metal of his hand is closing around your neck, you see stars, your vision blackening around the edges and raw pleasure coursing through your veins,
You had never felt so good before, you probably wouldn't have existed without him, he's all you knew,
Close so close, you love it when he uses you like this, so majestic on top of you, when the only thing you could focus on was the dark azure, the pressure of metal on your neck and the feeling of fullness that comes with being joined to him this way, and you love every bit of it,
So you give in, let your body pull you into the deep ditch of ecstasy, he leaves you twitching and gasping, you tell him as best as you can "I-I'm-!" his pace increasing at the notion and then you couldn't think anymore,
The electricity that reignited all of your nerve endings was too sweet to miss out on, you were floating for hours, stars in your eyes and the imprint of the beautiful blue ones you spend your days losing yourself in,
Limbo, sweet, sweet limbo, that's your safe place. You feel him belatedly, those strong arms wrapped around you again and his soft lips on your cheek, he was purring against you, when you stretched your fingers to feel his stubble and then his long beautiful strands, you moved your face to pull him in, show him how grateful you were with a single kiss.
He let's you, he knows he has you in his fist, He rules inside your mind, coiled around your soul, he's all you have, He has made sure of it.
"I love you" you murmers against his lips and he replies with a hum
"I don't like it when you talk about useless things like that"
But I just wanted to go out
You don't question him, you've learnt not to.
"It's been happening way too much for my liking, you know how i feel about this don't you little doll" "yes Bucky"
You're such a bad person.
"I mean the least you could do is be grateful, you wouldn't last one day out there, if I hadn't saved you that day you wouldn't be alive either" and don't you know it, all too well.
You wouldn't be alive without him, the odds were never in your favor, you're only a silly girl who ran from an abusive home, a hitchhiker who trusted the wrong crowd, a fragile girl on the brink of death when he saved her, he saved you, the mystery man from the gas station, that's what you knew him as then.
Those blue eyes had always enticed you, you'd noticed him staring at you from across the dinner down the street, the cap hung on his head and his locks behind his ears, it irked you then, it looked like he could see right through you, but know you knew that it's because he did.
You were a lost little girl looking for stability and love, when you got on the truck that day you didn't expect the turn it took,
It's when they stopped on a rest stop, for a little while at night, you didn't know when it took the turn it did, how the sleazy men that rode with you managed to overpower you, you had wanted to put up a fight, you thought you had it in you, but it's when you heard the rip of your dress that you realized you really didn't, that there was nothing you could do,
Until you saw it, the gloved hand that grasped the shoulder of the man on top of you, Bucky saved you when no one else would, he took you away from the big bad world,
So what if you weren't allowed to go into the city anymore? The city had done nothing for you anyway,
The little voice in your head used to scream at you all day but now it only popped back once in a while, it was easier to ignore now,
It stung how you couldn't do some things you thought you would do once you had it under control, if that night hadn't happened. You had hoped to leave when bucky rescued you, but that was never your choice to make anyway.
You were ungrateful about it, the voice always told you to fight it, leave him, that he was a monster, for trapping you this way, that he never really asked you if you wanted to be loved the way he loved you,
It was silly, at least you were loved. You'd take whatever he'd give you, his anger, his lust, his love. You'd give and give until you had nothing left to give,
The Perfect little girl, you were Galatea and He was the perfect sculptor.
Summary: Because of the Snap you lost what you wanted most, how did you cope with that loss?
Warnings: Angst, sad.
A/N: This fic is a Reader’s POV, so is in first person.
This is my entry to the @sweater-daddiesdumbdork ‘s Amber’s Any-FUCKING- Fandom Fic Challenge with the dialogue prompt #1:
“Please don’t lie to me again, I can’t take it”
Also my entry to the @mariessecretfantasies ‘s 500 Follower Writing Challenge with the prompt #29:
“You’re were broken-hearted and the world was, too. And I was beginning to lose my grip. And I have always hold it loosely, but this time I admit, I felt it really start to slip” Juno-Florence + the Machine.
My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.
I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.
My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.
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Five years have passed, we pretend to be happy... well a part of us is so we've been building, but we still haven't been able to get quite a replenishment.
While when we had to run away after the Civil War, we had a stable and happy life, although I could see how Steve missed being Captain America, he cared more than anyone found because he wanted me and our baby to be taken hostage, luckily no one suspected him as he was just two months old.
Steve and I had married a few weeks before the mission in Lagos, although perhaps misfortunes had begun since the HYDRA uprising, I'm not sure.
I can't forget the day... The day our lives were ruined again, obviously, it wasn't Bruce's fault that he called us, we agreed that I'd stay in the house looking after our little daughter, so I had no idea what was going on.
When I heard the commotion outside I peeked out, while my daughter was sleeping when I turned to her, I no longer saw her in her crib, a girl of almost two years couldn't go very far, right?
I started looking for her everywhere, when I moved the shelter of the crib I saw a cluster of ashes, what was going on?
I called Steve, something wasn't right, I didn't understand anything, and did we have to run away again?
"I'll be home soon, first I have something to fix, everything will be fine, I promise.”
That's all Steve told me before I could ask anything else.
The next few hours were eternal, I couldn't find my daughter anywhere, I turned on the TV, there was no sense the news they were given, how was it possible that people were disappearing?
If what the news was saying was true... So... my daughter was disappeared too?
Thousands of questions appeared in my head, Steve promised me he would fix what was going on, I tried to call him several times, but he didn't answer, he didn't have the slightest idea of what to do.
Steve came in the night, I started asking him a lot of things.
"What about Sarah?” He asked me.
"I don't know... she disappeared... As... I do not know... Steve tell me what's going on..., “I asked sobbing.
Steve was silent, I couldn't understand why he wouldn't tell me what had happened.
“Please don’t lie to me again, I can’t take it.”
“Thanos... did what he... he wanted to eliminate half the universe...”
“Eliminate half the universe?” I questioned.
It seemed crazy what Steve was saying to me, nothing made sense, all I wanted was my baby back.
"Yes, he got the stones of infinity and with a simple click he achieved it, he did not... I don't know how to fix it, forgive me, I couldn't...
I hugged him and we were crying for hours, the next month we tried with all our might to get everything back to normal, but we didn't succeed, nothing worked.
Adapting was difficult, it took us a while, and however, three years later we had another baby.
I was terrified, I didn't know how to tell her about the pregnancy, I didn't even know if she was ready.
"Doll, you've been aloof last week, what's going on?” He asked me.
“You’re were broken-hearted and the world was, too. And I was beginning to lose my grip. And I have always hold it loosely, but this time I admit, I felt it start to slip.”
"I don't get it...”
"We're going to have another baby," I confessed.
Contrary to the reaction I expected, Steve smiled.
"Okay, only this baby isn't going to impersonate our Sarah, we're going to have to buy new stuff.”
Since Natasha found out she comes to visit us at least once a week, it's the only one we have contact with after they returned from that trip in space... everyone broke up, I thought it wouldn't be that different, it just looked like we'd never been a team or anything.
I guess it's because it was already having years since we were, maybe we never were and we didn't realize it, maybe we were just co-workers or just people who met each other.
What we didn't count on Scott's arrival, how it would change our lives completely, though.
"Are you sure you want to stay? Steve asked me.
"Yes, someone has to take care of Becca, just... I hope...”
"We'll fix everything, I promise.”
Those hours that passed seemed eternal, Becca was asleep while I was still immersed in my thoughts.
As soon as Steve came back, I felt calmer.
"What happened? “ I asked.
"We have all the stones, now Tony will work on a gauntlet so we can get everything back to normal.”
"Sounds good, but um...”
“But?”
"Becca... is it going to disappear?” My voice was trembling.
In short, I didn't want to lose one daughter to get another one back.
"No, what we have experienced is not going to be erased, it will simply return to all the living beings that disappeared through the Snap....”
“And those who died as a result of the Snap?” I questioned.
Steve kept thinking for a few minutes, I wasn't sure if they had contemplated those cases.
"Only those who went for the Snap, the others did not.
I don't know what we should expect now, but if I knew something had happened to Steve.
"Stevie... do you have anything to tell me?”
I was afraid of the answer, but it was better to know. He took air before he spoke.
"On the time heist, something didn't go as planned on our 2012 visit, we had to go to 1970 and...”
"And I saw Peggy," he confessed.
I felt like I couldn't breathe, now I was afraid more than before to ask, Steve was going to abandon us?
I didn't know what to ask, I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
“She found her right partner and I found mine.”
"I don't understand...”
"You are my right partner, the family we have formed, I love you so much Y/N.”
"I love you too.”
"We should start fixing another room, we'll soon have Sarah with us.”
"Sure...”
I was still trying to process what he told me.
"Doll, seriously you have nothing to worry about, it's you and me against the world, remember?”
I nodded, it was what we said whenever there was a problem and some people thought we couldn't get over it.
"We will be very happy, I promise.”
"Is something wrong?” Steve asked me as he gave me my drink.
"Nothing, I just like to see our daughters playing together," I replied.
Steve sat next to me and watched the scene. He was right, now we're very happy.
Summary: while laying down in the middle of the fire, too wounded to get up, Bucky remembers his motives to always come back home.
Warnings: a little hint of angst, mostly fluff, mentions to thirsty moments.
Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
A/N: here's my little thing for @mariessecretfantasies 500followers writing challenge under the prompt "no grave can hold me down, I'll crawl back to her" (work song, by Hozier). Images and gifs are downloaded from Pinterest, if it belongs to you, just let me know! Big chunks of text in italics are memories. Also, that's my first time doing reader insert and not an OC, so please, enjoy! ❤️✨
Bucky watched you from the distance. You were laying lazily around his bed, daydreaming of tranquil days with no war and no bad guys, helding your hand up against the sunlight beaming trough the lacy curtains that casted it's beautiful shadows of flowers and leaves on your soft skin. You smiled at him and it was like being hit by a truck, you were all love and kindness and he got himself thinking that he didn't deserve such affection. In those doubtful days, you would shower him in compliments, in motives for why he was so deserving of deep love, you would brush away each remnant of insecurity with your lips until he was nothing more than a sweaty mess in tangled sheets, heavy breathing while you worked on him slowly.
Little did the others knew that Bucky liked being tamed sometimes, by your hands only, his girl, his lover. The woman that held his home in her collarbones, her lashes, the soft cupid's bow on her upper lip, the back of her knees and elbows. You. Entirely, imperfect, stubborn you. You were his home. His moon and stars, the coffee to wake his stiff muscles in the first hour of the morning, the someone to come back to after a long mission. You were bewitching at every breath, every sweet little word spilled over your naked bodies in the dead of the night when he just couldn't keep his hands to himself and would lure you into his trap of pleasure, waking you up with his pretty face burried deep between your thighs, devouring you with his whole mouth.
"Bucky, do you copy?!" Sam screams trough his communicator.
The scent of sulfur burning his nostrils to the brim, everything around him looked like hell on earth with livid reds and oranges, flames engulfing him, slowly approaching his tired body. The explosions not so far seemed to be under water on his buzzing ears, his eyes taking their time to try and focus. The heat was starting to make his skin ache and he observed the bodies around him, their flesh long gone from their carbonized skeletons.
"Hurry up, Sarge! The food's getting cold!" He can hear from the bathroom. T'was a long time since he had seen himself without the long dark-brown strands and the beard covering his lower face. Bucky was surprised he still had a jaw under all that.
Going into the kitchen, you were with your back to him, working effortlessly on flipping chocolate chip pancakes, his favorites.
About to scream at him again, you turned towards the living room and stopped dead in your tracks, gasping at how different your lover was. It was no surprise to tell that on that very day, you almost burned your kitchen to the ground because you was too eager to taste him, to touch him, to run your curious fingers trough his now short hair, to rub yourself on him to try the new softness of his shaved skin.
"I need someone on Barnes now!" Sam screams again, flying in circles around the flames he just couldn't get in, trying to find Bucky.
No much time later, a friendly face hovers above him, the Maximoff kid smiles at him and touches his forehead. She sees what he's remembering, the reason why he recalled those sweet memories. He wanted to part thinking of her face. His pulse slowly decreased and he could barely breathe now, yet, this silly smile was attached to his face, eyes staring into the sky with a loving expression. He thought he was ready to go, but was he really?
"I know you are tired", she whispers into his ear. "She won't be mad if you really need to go, you know that?"
He knew. Oh, how he knew. You were too good to even be mad about anyone, his self-destructive actions, his lack of experience on human socialization. Even when Sam would pull pranks on you, you just laughed your lungs out with him, you enjoyed laughing at yourself, you were pure. And you were going to move on from him.
Another failed mission. They were supposed to be back in four days but now it was almost two weeks that they were out. When they got back, before he could even step inside his room, you had your arms and legs wrapped around his torso, shyly crying in the crook of his neck.
You were so scared, you told him later, that he could be lost in action, or captured again, or worst, dead, that you spent days curled in your bed, crying. You knew how his job was, you understood, you were there when Tony sacrificed himself for his family, for his planet. You mourned over Natasha's death alongside with Clint and his family, they managed a little funeral with pretty flowers you thought she would like and the kids burried their favorite stuffies, poems and drawings with auntie Tasha. You were always there when he got back from his missions, waiting him with a bathtub filled with steaming water and good old session of cuddles. He always slept better in your arms, hearing your steady heartbeat.
Bucky was in that state of induced coma for his body to heal, the doctors had said. You didn't left his side the very next moment he was brought back by Wanda's powers, she held him in a circle of healing, making him float since she didn't have the muscles to carry his sturdy body. It was the second week of his sleep, Bucky had twitched his fingers on top of the sheets when Sam traded places with you so you could take a good shower and put on more warm clothes, the winter was coming slowly but the cold breezes were deadly already. When you got back, doctors were all around him and they looked at you with relief. You didn't understood right away, the reason that they got out of the room so quickly once you entered and made you way back to the side of his bed.
Then it hit you. And him. He could not just give up yet, he wanted to be with you again, forever. And so he did. He needed to wake up, even if he had to crawl back to you.
His eyelids were fluttering vividly, his fingers searched for the soft sheets underneath him, sweat pooled in his neck and forehead. When they jolt open, there's only your angelic face hovering about him with loving eyes. The first thing is his hand reaching out for your cheek, caressing the tears away carefully.
"Good morning handsome", you smile. "I thought you wouldn't come home this time." You admit, starting to sob mercilessly, he chuckles softly and plays with your hair, pulling it away from your face as he pulls you closer to lay down on his chest.
