Summary:Crushed between the expectations of society and your family, you catch the attention of an unwanted caller and life you never desired. (Regency AU)
Summary: Caught in an anti-hero demonstration, you become an unwilling participant in a political game of tug of war. Tony Stark wants you to be the new poster child for his pro-Avengers rhetoric, Nick Fury wants you to fade into the background, and Bucky Barnes… wants something else from you entirely.
Warnings: Near Death Experience, Noncon, Stalking, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Smut, Breeding. Blackmail, Infidelity, Dark!AU, Grey/Dark Avengers AU, Dead dove Do not eat
A/N: um. i think you all could see the signs that things were about to go from zero to sixty with the ending of the last chapter, but just in case you didn’t, here’s your warning. updated the warnings a bit to reflect the content from here on out! bottom divider by @firefly-graphics!
The work below is my own, and is unbeta’d and unedited. I do not consent for it to be translated and or posted elsewhere by anyone but myself. Minors, DNI!
Bucky leaves shortly after Patrick gets back, and you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, very wrong, for the rest of the day. While you shower, as you go through the stretches the physical therapist taught you, as you run loving fingers through Pat’s hair. The wrongness won’t abate, won’t leave you alone.
The Black Widow arrives a few hours later, and declines your hesitant offer to come inside. No thank you, she’d said with a tart smile. I’m better from outside. Patrick is just grateful to have the apartment back, spreading out on the couch and surfing channels aimlessly. You, on the other hand, can’t stop turning over this morning’s events in your head, gnawing at it like a dog with a bone.
The cold hand, the beard, the voice that wasn’t Pat’s—
Your stomach fills with lead.
Youknow what the truth is, but you can barely even think it. It doesn’t make sense, for one, that Bucky would sneak into your room and do that.He’s half a celebrity, and while you buy about half of the populace running away screaming, you know the other half would walk readily right into his bed. There was no need to dally with you.
So why did he?
Why did he pretend to be Patrick, slither between your thighs and—
You clench them shut, your stomach lurching with shame as your cunt pulses at the memory. It isn’t your fault it felt good, you know that, but the shame eats away at you anyway. And Pat—you don’t know how he’d react to the knowledge, and you don’t want to find out. You clench your fists under the knitted blanket Patrick’s mother had given the two of you at your engagement party last year.
You don’t know when you’ll see Bucky next and your stomach flops nervously at the thought of being alone with him after what happened. He’d seemed so nice before, if a little stoic; you don’t understand the shift, can’t make sense of it.
And it certainly doesn’t help that you’re essentially house-bound, unable to drive your car without the go-ahead from Doctor Bradford. You feel trapped, like you’re just waiting for the predator to circle round again, to take another meaty bite out of you.
And what a bite he’d taken.
You can’t find it in yourself to leave your bubble of alternating self-deprecation and loathing for Bucky’s transgression, you’re surprised when Patrick starts getting ready for his night shift. It’s with grim resignation that you watch him step into his nurse’s shoes—the ones you’d teased him about more than once—and pin his tag on his shirt, right onto the pocket, like always.
“Babe? You good? You’ve been quiet all day.” Patrick is shrugging into his scrubs, and his voice rouses you from your anxiety driven fugue. “I can call off if you want.” On one hand, you do, you really do—you want Pat to stay, to help you confront Bucky for what he did to you—
But the larger part of you, the part that echoes with your father’s drilled-in shame, doesn’t even want Patrick to know. You don’t want him thinking of you as damaged goods, the woman who couldn’t even recognize her own fiancé’s voice. His mother already hated you, and you were loathe to give her more reason to mistrust you.
No, better for you to handle this on your own. For once you were glad for the insistent beeping of his pager as they contacted him again—rushing him in, putting a pin back into the grenade of this line of discussion.
“I’m good. Sorry, I’m just tired. I think it’s the pills.” You offer him a watery smile. “You go.” He does, with one last, almost mistrustful look at you over his shoulder.
“Call if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
—
You twiddle your thumbs in the emptiness of your apartment, wondering what you’ll say, what you’ll do when Bucky shows up for guard duty, so much so that when Natasha raps on your door with her knuckles, you almost throw up from nerves.
“I’m headed out,” she says as you pull the door open. “Steve’ll be here shortly, if he’s not here already.” It sends a cool wave of relief through you to know it won’t be Bucky you see next, and you nod gratefully.
“How long, um, do you think we’ll have to do all this?” You ask, steadying yourself against the door. “The whole, um. Bodyguard thing.”
“Probably until the press dies down. Another couple of weeks, at most. We already got a few pings just from presence at the junket.” Her voice is confident, assured. It makes you want to trust her confidence. She turns to leave, but stops, hesitating. “Here, take my number. Just in case. And only for emergencies, understand?” She replies sternly, and you nod quickly.
“Thanks.”
You hobble back to the living room, and begin your best attempt at tidying up with only the use of one hand, a crutch held under the other. When the buzzer rings, you answer with confidence, pressing the intercom button.
“Yes?”
“Hey. It’s me. Can you buzz me in?”
“Oh, Steve. Sure.” You move to press the door button, and the familiar buzz sounds through the speaker. You wait patiently by the door for Steve to get there, tugging open the door as his footfalls approach the landing.
“Hiya, doll.” Bucky grins at you as he rounds the corner. No.You gape at him, unable to speak as you sputter. “Surprised to see me? Steve had something come up, something with the baby—”
You slam the door, sliding the deadbolt across it with trembling fingers. It’s instinct more than anything, but you’re glad for it when his body thuds against the door only a second or two later.
“You need to leave, Bucky,” you say shakily. “Get out of here!”
“Doll, what? Why? Something wrong?” It makes your stomach roll to hear him ask so genuinely, all while the feeling of his hands on your body burns in your memory. He raps on the door hard, and you can hear his heavy breath.
“You… you have to go, Bucky. I know what you did this morning, okay? I… I fucking know!”
There’s silence from the other side of the door, and then a heavy sigh.
“Goddammit.”There’s another knock. “Sweetheart, open the door and let’s talk about it. Come on. Let’s be adults about this.”
There’s a casual kind of coolness in his tone that makes you both angry and terrified, like he’d forseen this outcome—
Planned for it.
“No. You need to leave. You need to leave, a-and I’m going to tell Tony what you did—” This time, it isn’t Bucky’s voice that interrupts you—it’s your own.
“God!”
“What? What is that?”
“F-fuck, I—”
Your face heats as you realize what he’s doing. He’s playing something, a recording—
A recording of this morning.
Before you can think about it, consider what you’re doing, your hands are flying to the locks, practically tearing off the deadbolt.
“Stop, it, shut that off—” The door slams inward, and it narrowly misses pulping you against the wall you as you scramble away. You hit the floor with an oof, your crutches clattering to the ground beside you. “Bucky…”
He tosses you the phone as he steps over the threshold, closing the door behind him. He makes sure to set the lockandthe deadbolt, turning to grin at you over his shoulder.
“For interruptions.” Bucky squats down in front of you, and motions down at the phone in your lap. “Oh, that’s my favorite part.” You don’t want to look down, but it’s like you can’t stop yourself, your eyes drifting to the screen. You watch yourself writhing on your bed, one thick, flesh hand, one metal, holding your thighs apart while Bucky feasts on you.
You toss the phone away as if it’s burned you.
“Why would you do that?” You murmur, hot angry tears gathering in your eyes. He sighs, running a hand through his thick hair.
“I’m sorry, doll. I am. I…” He hesitates, before shrugging, like there’s no point in keeping it from you now. “I thought those pills’d have you under for a little longer.” The apologetic smile he gives you is chilling, instead of relatable. “I just couldn’t wait anymore. I’m not patient, you know?”
“What? What are you—”
“I saved your life.” He states the irrefutable fact with a completely straight face. “Didn’t I?” Bucky reaches forward to brush a lock of hair out of your face, and you go completely rigid at the motion. “You know, there’s some cultures that believe if you save a life, you own it. You know that, doll?”
All of the anger goes out of you at once—and is replaced by ice cold terror.
“I asked you a question sweetheart, please answer me.”
It’s night impossible to swallow the ball of panic in your throat but you manage, somehow.
“Y-yes. I kn-know that.”
“Thank you. In ancient Rome, a savior was regarded as a sort of… second father. But that’s not really what I want. Unless,” Bucky grins cheekily down at you, “you’re into that sort of thing.”
You don’t laugh, and he sighs. “Look, I like you. You’re sweet. And… I can protect you. Patrick can barely keep your heads above water,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe that’s what passes for a man these days.”
The urge to defend your fiancé is tamped down easily by your fear—you know what this man can do.
“I understand it might take some… time. For you to come around. So, I’m prepared to offer you a deal.”
“A deal?” You echo him hoarsely, attempting to blink back tears and failing. “What deal?”
“Well, I’m not going to post your film debut online for the world to see,” he holds up the phone, wiggling it for emphasis. “But I expect certain…allowances in return.” You don’t miss the way his eyes sweep down your body. This time, you can’t hold your tongue.
“What? No! I’m not touching you, I—”
“I get this is new for you doll, and while I’m a… modern man in a lot of ways, I’m not going to tolerate disrespect just because I’m sweet on you.” His eyes go hard. “I could have let you bleed out on the museum floor, after all.” Your breath hitches and time seems to slow as he leans in closer. His large hand is warm on your thigh through your thin leggings.
“Iown you, doll. And depending on which way I spin our beautiful first moment, I can bring down this whole house of cards you’ve built for yourself. This?” He gestures around at your apartment, but you get his larger meaning, “Only lasts as long as I say it does.” He squeezes your thigh, and then reaches up to caress your cheek like a lover, like he hadn’t just delivered a terrifying threat. “So I wouldn’t piss me off. Understand?”
You take a few seconds longer than he’d like to answer, and his lips press into a frown.
“Y-yes, Bucky,” you manage to squeak out around the other words in your throat. “I understand.”
“Good. Let’s get you up, doll. That doesn’t look comfortable at all.” He helps you to your feet with a patience that rivals Pat’s, and you swallow the futile scream that builds when he fixes you with that soft, gentle smile. “Let’s go pick out a movie, or something. We’ve got all night.”
—
Bucky is stifling.
He won’t give you a moment’s peace; standing practically hip to hip with you in the kitchen as you microwave the popcorn, standing over your shoulder as you return texts from your sister that you’d been ignoring—like he was trying to tacitly remind you of his imagined claim on your body, on your soul.
But what did it matter, imagined or not, if he had the power to enforce it?
The last thing you want is for Patrick to see that video, to see the absolute worst of you—for the world to see it. It doesn’t matter now that you’d been an unwilling participant, and if not unwilling then certainly unknowing—no one will believe it, not when they watch you writhing under his touch.
You barely do.
You sit stiffly, holding onto the popcorn in a white-knuckled grip. His metal arm falls around you, and he squeezes you affectionately.
“See?” He says, nuzzling against your throat. Your own breath hitches—both because it’s strangely natural,like the affection is real, and because you’re disgusted with yourself for considering whatever twisted thing he’d built up in his own head as valid for even a second. “Doesn’t have to be so bad.”
What choice do I have?
Until you can get help, tell someone—anyone—you’re stuck, completely at his mercy. You hadn’t been able to understand his breach of trust, not until he’d explained himself, and everything had clicked into place with horrible clarity. His overt overprotectiveness, the way he’d begun methodically inserting himself into your life. Even now, he traces patterns on the exposed skin of your arm, the cool metal leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“Feel like you’re too far away, doll,” he drawls, and reluctantly you look up at him. He pats the thickest part of his thigh with a heavy hand. “Want you right here, close to me.” Your stomach lurches at his request. Sitting next to him is the most you can manage, you don’t want anything else. The movie drones on in the background as you stare at one another, and you know you don’t have long before Bucky’s patience runs out.
“I-I—” You can’t swallow the lump in your throat so you try to speak around it. “Bucky, I don’t—”
“You’re nervous. I get that,” he cuts you off, running his hands up and down your sides in smooth gentle movements, like he’s trying to calm a panicked animal. You suppose you are—you’re terrified, your heart pounding as Bucky’s fingers sink into the meat of your hips. You let out a shrill squeak as he lifts you, settling you across his thigh.
“But you don’t have to be, not with me.” Hot tears, indignant tears, well in your eyes, and you try not to let them fall. Bucky’s breath is hot against the back of your neck. “I’m going to take good care of you.” You know his promise is supposed to inspire confidence, but the only thing you feel is the slow creep of dread, sinking into everything.
This is really happening.
You want to wake up from this, but there isno waking from it—Bucky’s hands are warm as they massage you through the thin fabric of your leggings, his pleased sighs ringing in your ear as he familiarizes himself with your body. There’s no relaxing either, your body taut as a tightrope perched on his knee. To any onlooker, you know this looks like a date-night—a movie, snacks, two people cuddled close—but the pounding of your heart, the tremor in your hands, you can’t hide those. Someone onscreen laughs, and Bucky chuckles too, the sound vibrating against your back.
“You feel tense, sweetheart,” He murmurs, and you wince as he drags his lips down the exposed skin at your shoulder until he meets cloth. “I can help.” His hungry hands come to rest on your thighs, his thumbs massaging circles into the taut muscle. You try to snap your thighs shut, wiggle off of his lap, but Bucky is stronger than you are—by far. It doesn’t even seem like it taxes him in the least to keep you seated as he locks an arm around your belly, anchoring you to him.
“Shh, shh,” he smooths his other hand over your hair. “You’ll feel so much better, doll, I know it.” Fresh horror blooms in you as he strokes along your inner thigh with light fingers, mumbling his appreciation for you in a low, reverent voice.
“So soft…” You can feel the thick length of his cock pressing up between the cheeks of your ass, and you choke on your horrified gasp. “See how hard you got me, sweetheart? S’all for you.” Your mouth opens, and you inhale a breath to scream—
Bucky’s metal hand closes around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to limit your air.
“Oh, baby. I wouldn’t.” His other hand doesn’t stop moving, stroking the skin of your belly under your t-shirt. “You think I won’t fuck you if your neighbors come watch?” The blood curdles in your veins at his frankness. “I don’t mind if the whole world watches you cum on my face, sweetheart—and believe me, it’s a pretty sight. In fact, I think that might make this a whole lot easier, don’t you? If everyone knows, then—”
“Please,” you croak, tugging ineffectually at his arm. He releases his hold on your throat, and you gasp and cough as the air floods back into your lungs. You don’t want Patrick to know, to see. Without Pat, you’d be alone, adrift in the world. He’d made you feel like you could do more than just be your father’s replacement for your mother, to take care of him until he was six feet in the ground. Like you owed it to her memory to be something—like you owed it to yourself.
Bucky could have everything else—but he can’t have that.
He kisses the skin at the back of your throat, his beard rasping against your skin.
“Let’s not make this difficult, doll. Either way you play this, I get what I’m owed.”
“No one’s owed anything,” you croak, wriggling in his lap. Bucky stills you with a smart tap to your thigh. “That’s not how the world works.”
“Oh?” He says, as if he’s amused by your reasoning, amused enough to let your sass slide. “I’ll remember that when folks come to collect. Funny,” he hums as his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your leggings, playing at the skin beneath them before he tugs them harshly down. “how no one’s owed, but someone always come to collect.” There’s a low laugh as he grazes the skin of your vulva.
“No panties, doll? And I thought you weren’t expecting me.” He parts your lips with two fingers, and you’re as embarrassed as he is pleased when he finds your folds damp. You huff through your clenched teeth as Bucky slowly circles your clit with one finger while he grinds his cock against you. You’re overwhelmed with him—the woodsy scent of his cologne in your nostrils, his hands on you, in you. It’s enough to make your head spin.
Which it does, unwitting pleasure winding up your spine as you stare dizzily at the ceiling. You try everything; shutting your eyes to try and keep him out, picturing Patrick, trying to remember the vows you were still drafting up for the wedding—but none of it works. Bucky’s face swims in the darkness behind your closed eyes as his fingers dance over your bud, and his breath in your ear wipes clean the memory of your future promises.
The noise as his fingers slide in and out of you, aided by your body’s own slick is deafening. You hate your own muted moans as Bucky’s teeth drag along your shoulder blade, uncaring of whether he leaves a mark or not. The sound of his zipper lowering makes you choke back a sob, and you gasp softly at the feel of his bare cock against your ass.
“I saw, you know,” he grunts as he ruts against you. “Fucking pathetic, couldn’t even let you get off first.” Bucky lets out a low, guttural laugh when your pussy clenches around him, fresh wetness coating his fingers. “Mmm, feels good, doesn’t it, doll?” You clench around him. “Real man would have taken care of you—that’s why I had to step in and do it.” Bucky doesn’t let up, and you whine and writhe against him.
Your orgasm hits you like a train and you arch against his knee, your cunt throbbing as your release coats his fingers thick and sticky. You can feel Bucky moving against you, your pleasure—your shame—leaking back to coat his cock. Limp and wrung out from the force of it, you shudder. Maybe it’s cruel irony that Pat had never made you feel quite like this, that this man who you you undeniably hate can play your body like a fine instrument.
His hands rise to cup your breasts, flicking at your nipples through your bralette. “If I didn’t want to be in your pussy so bad, I’d give this sweet ass of yours a try,” Bucky says as his the head of his cock slides lewdly against your puckered entrance. You push ineffectively at his metal hand as he lifts your hips, positioning his cock underneath your twitching cunt.
“Bucky, Bucky no—”
“Stopwhining, doll,” his words end in a sigh as his cock begins to press up into you, pushing against the tightness of your entrance until it pops inside. He groans, huffing out an appreciative breath. “You’re like velvet inside, you know that?” He’s so thick, it’s like there’s not enough room inside of you for all of him, but he pushes in anyway.
You squeak as he fills you, his jeans rubbing uncomfortably against your bare thighs. Bucky kneads your hip with one hand and rocks against you slow, but even his short thrusts steal the air from your lungs. Even the sting of his cock stretching you open winds with the pleasure eating away at every conscious thought that manages to break through the static in your brain.
“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart,” he underscores the complement with another muffled curse. “Could stay in you all goddamned day.” He doesn’t fuck you like Pat does, with quiet efficiency, mindful of how long he’s taking—Bucky fucks you like it’s all he wants to do. His strokes are slow, leisurely, and you sob at the slow drag of him against your walls.
Bucky bounces you on his lap, and your breath gurgles in your throat. “F-full…” You don’t even realize you’ve spoken until Bucky’s black-honey laugh meets your ear.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, doll?” He kneads your breasts with one greedy hand while the other tugs your legs apart, splaying you open lewdly across his thighs. Bucky sinks in with a loud squelch that makes you keen. Distantly, you’re aware of the slapping of flesh, the squeal of the springs in you and Pat’s ancient couch as Bucky lays into you with languid heavy thrusts.
“Nice, fat cock digging you out—tell me baby, that miserable excuse for a man ever make you feel this good?” When you don’t answer immediately, Bucky’s hips snap into yours hard, the head of his cock punching against your cervix. You wail, babbling.
“N-no, no Bucky!” You wish that the guilt that flares up in you at your forced honesty is enough to quell the tide of pleasure cresting over you. You hate him—but your body still responds. “Oh, oh God—”
Pleasure sears the synapses in your brain, fireworks exploding behind your unseeing eyes as you gape up at your ceiling. Bucky fucks you through it, abandoning his slow, deep pace for quick, sharp thrusts.
“Fuck, m’gonna fill you up, doll, want you leakin’ with me for days—”He growls low in his throat, strained breaths puffing against your ear as sticky warmth floods you, his cock jerking against your walls. The both of you sit there, panting as you try to piece everything back together.
Bucky strokes the side of your face, before pressing a kiss into your hair.
“See, doll?” He says with a dry laugh. “Not so bad.”
I am no longer maintaining taglists, my friends! Please follow @box-of-bones-library and turn on notifications to get updates about new fics, chapters, and drabbles! thank you!
Hi, I’m Rae! I write dark fics on my blog harryspet. I write for many characters but these are my Steve fics. Most of these stories contain DARK ADULT content!! This means there are mentions of abuse, violence, noncon/dubcon, smut, and overall just a lot of angst.
TRIGGERING CONTENT AHEAD
our soulmateIn which Steve and Bucky both find their soulmate at a local diner.
a long way downIn which the dead are walking, you belong to Bucky and the two of you stumble upon Steve’s settlement.
the good guyIn which Steve returns from the war and things are not the same.
welcome to edenIn which the neighborhood you and your husband Steve move into isn’t like anywhere else on earth. The women are flawless and then men are way too happy. (stepford wives au)
caged bird In which you have to make a deal with three devils in order to survive in The Cage. (prison au)
sheltered In which your soulmate is not at all who you expected. (a/b/o)
pinky promise In which you and Peter play Mommy and Daddy. (ddlg/ddlb)
Here’s the first part of The Lone Wolf. I hope this is clearing up some unanswered questions, in the next few will be more flashbacks, which will explain everything.
I hope you enjoyed reading it.
This series was brought to you because someone who (thank God) doesn’t follow me on Tumblr, wanted me to write something nicefor him, but I also wanted to post something here, so you guys are getting a bit cleaner version.
I hope you’ll like it!!
————————————-
Summary: The Reader hadn’t seen nor heard from him in about five years. Her life is getting back on track (sure, she might be playing the role of fiance for her gay friend, but everything else is going great). She’s famous all across the world for being the only person to meet The Lone Wolf in his uniform, and live to tell the tale. There was so many people asking her about him, but she never said a word. She moved on, but the past seems to want to bite her in the ass.
Warnings for this part: Implied sex, edging, a bit of SMUT (fingering), lying, mentions of dominant!Bucky, some Language
Sometimes I wish I knew what had happened to him. I looked back at the building of the company, before continuing my walk toward the café I often frequented, Coffee Bean. Sitting down, I gave them the order, which had put me into that situation with him in the first place - Hot Chocolate with Marshmallows, chocolate crumbs and coconut, the drink I haven’t had in five years, not since May 2020.
That might not have been the warmest month I had encountered in my years, but it came with a lot of memories. Pleasant and unpleasant ones, but they are still some of the most memorable moments of my life.
–
Rough hands gripping me tightly by the waist from behind, pulling me close enough so that I can feel a hard, throbbing length against my ass.
–
Lips attacking my neck and leaving trails of hickeys. I couldn’t tell whether they were made out of possessive jealousy, or as a way to show me he actually cared about me, but they were there, dozens of hickeys all over my body…
–
His hand grabbing me by the throat, before pulling me in for a rough kiss, which left me breathless and weak in the knees…
–
“Honey, are you okay?”
“Huh?” I looked away from the window, as I was pulled out of my thoughts. The bright, blue, eyes of my ‘fiancé’ were in front of me. Steve and I have only been 'engaged* for two weeks, due to him needing a fake fiancé, because he didn’t have enough courage to tell his parents he’s actually gay. He was gorgeous, blonde, blue eyed, well-built and over six feet tall. Every girl’s wet dream, but not mine. “Oh, hey, love! I’m sorry I was thinking.”
“I could see that, honey.” He sipped on his coffee. How long had he been here? “I’ve been trying to grab your attention for the past 10 minutes.” He grumbled out, answering the question I didn’t even ask, while grinding his teeth. “A penny for your thoughts, darling?”
“It’s nothing, really. I was only remembering some things from my past.”
“Good or bad?”
“Both.” I said with finality in my voice, making it known that I don’t want to talk about that subject anymore.
“So it is true.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There was something between you and the lone wolf.” His voice was filled with some sort of venom, but it was, weirdly enough, calm, although, if you payed enough attention, you could notice that the anger was radiating off him in waves, his eyebrows were furrowed, and fists clenched idly at his side. I didn’t even know he knew of him. Most of the wolrd didn’t really care much about the people from Balkans, although, him being a famous, mysterious war criminal might have had something to do with it…
“I was someone he kidnapped once.”
“Is that all?”
“He also tortured me.” I told him the official story. No need to tell him the truth about the aforementioned torture, but his heated gaze didn’t falter.
Why does it seem like he knows something? He can’t know. No one can. It was all between me and him, and he disappeared off the face of the Earth five years ago.
He kept the staring game for a few moments, before his stare softened. “If you say so.”
“I do.” I took another sip of my Hot Chocolate, before I let out a sorrowful laugh. “I had this same drink a few hours before he took me five years ago, you know? I was afraid to drink it again. I thought it was some sort of a bad thing, but I got over it.” I always had this same drink, when I was talking to him, whether it was over the phone, or over a video-call, in person… He knew me like an open book. Since he hasn’t been around in five years, If he were alive, he would have contacted me by now. So I thought it was the time to move on and have it again. It hadn’t disappointed. “Damn, it tastes better than I remember.”
He hm-ed, before nodding for me to continue. His eyes were, somehow haunted. Which made me think something was extremely wrong, but this was Steve. Friendly-neighbourhood gay-man who didn’t want his parents to know he was gay, so he faked his engagement to me after two months of being my friendly gay best neighbour, and five years of being my (only) gay-best friend ….
“I had this one friend, Bucky. We had been friends, since my third/fourth year of high school, and I had been in love with him ever since I had seen. My friend needed my help. Apparently, he had been in trouble at the time.”
“What did he do?” He asked, deep in thought.His blue eyes deep in thought.
“I don’t know. I was talking to him on the phone, and then, someone had grabbed me, there was a cloth in my face. I had breathed in and everything went black. When I woke up, I was in my Grandfather’s abandoned house in our old village. Most of the old people have been sent to homes, and nobody lives there. My plan was to stay there for two weeks, alone, surrounded by acres of woods. The only person, other than my family, who knew where it was, was my best friend, Bucky. So, I assumed he allowed someone to kidnap me and have their way with me. I never saw a face, and never heard their voice, but I’ve heard the groans they made while they violated my body.” Lie, lie, lie and lie. He would never put me in any type of danger like that. Sure, he had, indeed kidnapped me, but he knew I had one of those fantasies when I was younger.
“Why are you saying they?”
“Because I’m uncertain whether it was a man or a woman. Yes, Steve, there is a possibility that The Lone Wolf is a woman, as well.” No there isn’t, but there’s no need for him to know that.
“I never even thought of that possibility…” He mumbled, seemingly mind blown, but I could tell he didn’t believe me. “So, that friend of yours…”
“I don’t like your tone. He was only my friend then, we hooked up a few times before that, though, three years after we’ve met.”
“So, your then-friend, betrayed you.”
“Yes. He left me with an animalistic person whose only purpose in life was to hide, and torture me.”
“How exactly did he torture you?”
“Any way you could possibly imagine, only twenty times worse…” That was true. He tortured me in any sexual way he could. From spanking, to bondage, through whipping and leaving hickeys all the way to edging me ten times before finally letting me cum, screaming for him in places where only animals could hear me, biting…If I mentioned any other man, I would get punished.
“How do you feel about The Lone Wolf?”
“I hate him so much.” For leaving me a hot mess, and after two wonderfully-spent weeks, disappearing into thin air. He only wanted to use me for sex just like all those times before…I loved him, through everything, but he never cared. He never loved me and now, five years later, I finally understood that.
“You really hate him so much?” His gaze was so intense, it made me remember a moment with Bucky.
—-
“I hate you, Sarge.” I cried, which was understandable since it was the sixth time he edged me so far. And I wanted to cum so badly. “Please, please, please, allow me to cum.”
“You hate me?” He asked, before pushing his finger into my slit once again and picking up the pace. Every word he said was slowly rolling off his tongue, his blue eyes were dark with lust, and there was a mischievous glint in them. “Why are you so wet, then, doll?”
“Please, please, please, make me cum”
“I asked you two questions, doll. If you answer them, I’ll think about it.”
“Fine, Sarge, I don’t hate you. I don’t think I could ever hate you and I’m wet because you make me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling for anyone.”
“And what are those things?” He asked, before licking my breast and putting another finger in, while his other hand played with my clit.
“I…” I was about to answer before the sensation I felt stopped me. “Please, Sarge…”
“You’re about to cum already?” He asked.
“N…”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Yes, Sarge. Now please…” I whined, he was picking up the pace, and I was surprised he had actually listened to me. I was right there. Only one push and I’d be getting the sensation I wanted to feel since he had started this…
“No…” I whined, as I felt him pull his finger out.
“Yes.” He said, kissing me roughly, before pulling me onto my wobbly feet. I couldn’t stand properly due to our…activities. He let out a self-satisfied laugh, before throwing me over his shoulder. “I’m going to help you take a shower.”
“I hate you…”
“I thought you could never hate me, doll.” I slapped him across his very lovely ass. He let out another, hearty laugh, before I felt a sharp pinch on my ass.
“You bit me!” I mumbled
“If you mess with the wolf, you’re bound to feel some consequences.”
—-
“I don’t know if I hate him completely. If it weren’t for him, I would have been dead, you know. He saved me.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well…” Think, think, think… “That winter, the wolves were running about the forest. We didn’t have any sheep, cows or pigs in any of the barns that year. Grandfather was in the home and Uncle couldn’t retire until the next year. So me and him were, practically, the only ones in the area at the time. It was plenty useful to have a deadly soldier there, or I would have been ripped apart by the actual wolves.” Again, a half-truth.
“So you don’t hate him?” He asked again.
“He had saved my life. I don’t think I could ever hate anyone, I think I only strongly dislike him.”
“Good. I’m so sorry about this, Y/N.” He said, his blue eyes filled with regret.
“What are you talking about, Steve?” I asked him, but his phone rang.
“Yes, buddy, you were right. She’s all yours now.“ He said, before hanging up. He gave me one, pointed look, before gesturing something. I had no idea what it meant, but I didn’t need to think about it. There was something on my mouth and my world went black. Deja-vu much?
I’m back, for now. And what’s a better way to return with than a new Bucky x Reader series?
This series was brought to you because someone who (thank God) doesn’t follow me on Tumblr, wanted me to write something nicefor him, but I also wanted to post something here, so you guys are getting a bit cleaner version.
I hope you’ll like it!!
————————————-
Summary: The Reader hadn’t seen nor heard from him in about five years. Her life is getting back on track (sure, she might be playing the role of fiance for her gay friend, but everything else is going great). She’s famous all across the globe for being the only person to meet The Lone Wolf in his uniform, and live to tell the tale. There was so many people asking her about him, but she never said a word. She moved on, but the past seems to want to bite her in the ass.
“Ma'am, could you tell us a little bit more about his relationship with you?”
“What relationship? He had kidnapped me and tortured me for two weeks. I’ve answered this question over an over and it hasn’t changed since the first time. I was kidnapped and tortured, then left alone, tied up, until my Uncle had found me. What kind of a relationship should that be put under, other than the captor-victim one, please enlighten me?” Dozens of people, mostly reporters, had been asking me the same question for five years, but I’ve never given them the true answer, I don’t think I could ever do that. Not to myself, not to my friend and fiancé (even if we were only engaged for the past two weeks as a plot for his family not to find out he’s gay), not even to him… That was the past I had been hiding from everyone. It was enough that they all knew I had something to do with him.Thank God they did not have any clue what that something really was, because it would start a whole new round of questions that I would never have the guts to answer, I could never betray him. Looking at the blurry picture of the hooded man made me remember everything I was trying so hard to delete from the hard drive that my mind is. I buried them deep inside, never caring about the fact that I knew I would still feel whatever it is that I felt for himthen, and hewould still be one of the few known war criminals of our modern age. Yet not a single one of them ever knew his name, they couldn’t even find his real face, or any data about himfor that matter. The only two things they knew about him,The Lone Wolf, as they deemed him, were the initials of his first and last name - JB, and that I was kidnapped by him on the day of hislast known crime.
Sometimes I wish I knew what had happened to him. I prayed to God he was still alive and kicking somewhere and that he had a great reason for being a stupid jerk, which was in character for him when it came to other people, but never when it came to me.
As I got out of the building of the company and headed toward the cafe, I could tell something was going to change today, I just didn’t have any idea what was coming… I’m Y/N Y/L/N and this is my story.
“Ma'am, could you tell us a little bit more about his relationship with you?” Dozens of people, mostly reporters, were asking the same question for ages, but I’ve never given them the honest answer, I don’t think I could ever do that. Not to myself, not to my fiancé (even if we were only engaged for the past two weeks as a plot for his family not to know he’s gay), not even to him… That was the past I had been hiding from everyone. It was enough that they knew I had something to do with him. Thank God they did not know what that something really was, because it would start a whole new round of questions. Looking at the blurry picture of the hooded man made me remember everything I was trying so hard to delete from the hard drive that my mind is. I buried them deep inside, never caring about the fact that I knew I would still feel whatever it is that I felt for himthen.And it would not change the fact thathe will always be one of the few known war criminals of our modern age. Yet no one ever knew his name. Not even hisreal face. The only thing they knew about him,The Lone Wolf, as they deemed him, were hisinitials-JBB.
Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape; grossness on Bucky’s part; Steve’s an asshole.
This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Notes:
Well it took me long enough. Like who the fuck do I think I am?
I love you all, I thank you for your patience and feedback as always! Please don’t shy away in the comments, reblogs, etc.
The next day, you waited outside the doors of the palace. Several cars lined up for your departure. You were to travel to the capital a day before your engagement celebration and spend an interminable night dreading it.
Trigger Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut, BDSM, Sub/Dom, CNC Kink, Use of Safewords, Roleplay, Knifeplay, Oral (Female Receiving)
A/N: Thanks to @constantwriter85 for reading this and for giving me the courage to post it.
Shuri laid in the dark of her palace bedroom unaware that she was being watched. In the far corner of the room stood the Winter Soldier. He took some time to observe her, after all she had no idea he was there. She thought she was safe, but the locks on the doors and windows were no match for someone of his talents. Even the palace security systems and her own personal security systems didn’t stop him when he decided to pay her a visit.
He watched the princess as she slept, no idea that she was about to come face to face with the boogyman. After a few minutes he makes his way over to the bed and sits down. The motion causing Shuri to awaken. Just as her mouth opens, his hand covers it and the index finger of his other hand going to his lips in a shushing motion.
“You’re my mission. Understand?” He asked, his voice muffled and distorted coming from behind the face mask.
“Yes.” She replied trying to calm her breathing.
“Good. Now why don’t we start by you taking off that pretty little nightie for me.” By the tone of his voice she knew it wasn’t a request. She moved slowly not wanting her movements to agitate him.
Her hand slowly moves to draw one strap down her arm and then the other.
“Too slow Princess.” In one motion, a knife appears and before she can react, her nightgown is cut open and ripped away from her body. She shivers as the air in the room hits her exposed skin. Giving her a minute to recover, he picks her up lays her flat on the bed clothed only in a pair of lacy white panties.
“Why princess what adorable panties you have. If I touch them are they going to be wet?” Leaning down close to her ear, he whispers, “For what I have planned for you, you better hope they are.” He takes a finger and moves to run it across the lacy band at the top and then with one jerk of his finger, the panties shred and she’s left completely bare.
“Such a pretty pussy. Has anyone ever had it before?” He takes a finger and lightly traces his finger from one nipple down to where she’s doing her best to keep her legs closed. “Answer me.”
“Yes.” She whispers.
He didn’t like that answer and taking his metal hand pushes her legs open. Staring down at her wetness, he removes his mask and tosses it to the side. Licking his lips he bends down and draws one slow lick up her folds, stopping when he gets to her swollen bud. Taking his lips he kisses it. Raising himself up he takes two metal fingers and inserts them inside curving them as they go. Shuri gasps and raises up off the bed, only to find herself pushed back down. Pulling his fingers out of her, he licks them clean.
“Oh Princess I can’t wait any longer.” Taking his legs he spreads her apart and unzips his pants. Her eyes go wide as he pulls out his cock. It was long and thick. The head was swollen and an angry red. Precum ran down the side. She got no warning before he took the head and put it inside her giving her a second to adapt and then pushed in all the way. She makes a noise that almost sounds distressful and he stops and pulls out.
“Doll are you okay? I hurt you. Damn it. I knew I would hurt you. I knew this was a bad idea.” Bucky sits up and pushes himself to the other side of the bed with his back to her.
Getting up she crawls over to him and wraps her arms around him from behind.
“Buck. I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me. It just stretched me a little more than it normally does. I’m fine. I was enjoying it. I promise. I knew our word for me to use. We talked about this. If I really got scared, or wanted to stop I would have used it.” She kisses his shoulder. “I was really into it and I think you were too.”
“‘I was enjoying parts of it, but I just can’t do it again. Okay? I’m sorry, its just too real for me.” He pulls her into his lap and holds her.
“No need to apologize love. We only do things that both of us enjoy. You were willing to try and we did. I love you. Now how about we go to bed and I’ll hold you?” She reaches up and kisses him.
“I love you too doll. Sounds good. Let me get these clothes off.” Standing up Shuri watches as he removes each article of clothing and kicks them over to the corner. Coming back to bed, he picks Shuri up and moves her to the middle and lays her down. She opens her arms and he doesn’t hesitate to move into them. She wraps them around him and kisses the top of his head.
Trigger Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut, BDSM, Sub/Dom, CNC Kink, Use of Safewords, Roleplay, Knifeplay, Oral (Female Receiving)
A/N: Thanks to @constantwriter85 for reading this and for giving me the courage to post it.
Shuri laid in the dark of her palace bedroom unaware that she was being watched. In the far corner of the room stood the Winter Soldier. He took some time to observe her, after all she had no idea he was there. She thought she was safe, but the locks on the doors and windows were no match for someone of his talents. Even the palace security systems and her own personal security systems didn’t stop him when he decided to pay her a visit.
He watched the princess as she slept, no idea that she was about to come face to face with the boogyman. After a few minutes he makes his way over to the bed and sits down. The motion causing Shuri to awaken. Just as her mouth opens, his hand covers it and the index finger of his other hand going to his lips in a shushing motion.
“You’re my mission. Understand?” He asked, his voice muffled and distorted coming from behind the face mask.
“Yes.” She replied trying to calm her breathing.
“Good. Now why don’t we start by you taking off that pretty little nightie for me.” By the tone of his voice she knew it wasn’t a request. She moved slowly not wanting her movements to agitate him.
Her hand slowly moves to draw one strap down her arm and then the other.
“Too slow Princess.” In one motion, a knife appears and before she can react, her nightgown is cut open and ripped away from her body. She shivers as the air in the room hits her exposed skin. Giving her a minute to recover, he picks her up lays her flat on the bed clothed only in a pair of lacy white panties.
“Why princess what adorable panties you have. If I touch them are they going to be wet?” Leaning down close to her ear, he whispers, “For what I have planned for you, you better hope they are.” He takes a finger and moves to run it across the lacy band at the top and then with one jerk of his finger, the panties shred and she’s left completely bare.
“Such a pretty pussy. Has anyone ever had it before?” He takes a finger and lightly traces his finger from one nipple down to where she’s doing her best to keep her legs closed. “Answer me.”
“Yes.” She whispers.
He didn’t like that answer and taking his metal hand pushes her legs open. Staring down at her wetness, he removes his mask and tosses it to the side. Licking his lips he bends down and draws one slow lick up her folds, stopping when he gets to her swollen bud. Taking his lips he kisses it. Raising himself up he takes two metal fingers and inserts them inside curving them as they go. Shuri gasps and raises up off the bed, only to find herself pushed back down. Pulling his fingers out of her, he licks them clean.
“Oh Princess I can’t wait any longer.” Taking his legs he spreads her apart and unzips his pants. Her eyes go wide as he pulls out his cock. It was long and thick. The head was swollen and an angry red. Precum ran down the side. She got no warning before he took the head and put it inside her giving her a second to adapt and then pushed in all the way. She makes a noise that almost sounds distressful and he stops and pulls out.
“Doll are you okay? I hurt you. Damn it. I knew I would hurt you. I knew this was a bad idea.” Bucky sits up and pushes himself to the other side of the bed with his back to her.
Getting up she crawls over to him and wraps her arms around him from behind.
“Buck. I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me. It just stretched me a little more than it normally does. I’m fine. I was enjoying it. I promise. I knew our word for me to use. We talked about this. If I really got scared, or wanted to stop I would have used it.” She kisses his shoulder. “I was really into it and I think you were too.”
“‘I was enjoying parts of it, but I just can’t do it again. Okay? I’m sorry, its just too real for me.” He pulls her into his lap and holds her.
“No need to apologize love. We only do things that both of us enjoy. You were willing to try and we did. I love you. Now how about we go to bed and I’ll hold you?” She reaches up and kisses him.
“I love you too doll. Sounds good. Let me get these clothes off.” Standing up Shuri watches as he removes each article of clothing and kicks them over to the corner. Coming back to bed, he picks Shuri up and moves her to the middle and lays her down. She opens her arms and he doesn’t hesitate to move into them. She wraps them around him and kisses the top of his head.
Summary: Bucky isn’t sure he likes this random, stray kitten you’re bringing home from work. No, in fact, Bucky’s pretty damn sure he hates the fluffball. Story set in this AU.
Pairing:Soft! Dark! Werepanther! Bucky x Reader, Alpine x Reader (platonic), Bucky x Alpine (platonic)
Word count: 1.7k (It got away from me wtf)
Warnings for: Possessive behavior, manipulative behavior, established relationship, dubcon, Slight cat on cat violence, fluff, angst, Alpine being a clueless adorable dumbass cat, Mutual loathing, enemies to besties trope
A/N: Quick, short thing I wrote for this story, per @sgt-seabass ‘s request who asked “How would werepanther Bucky react if you brought home a stray kitty from work?”
“Did you have to bring that thing home, mate?” Bucky inquires with a sullen pout from his favorite spot on your sofa where he sits with his legs folded, eerily still as his gaze remains narrowed on the snowy heap of fur lying on your kitchen table. You swear there’s a dent in the shape of his rear permanently carved in the linen now.
♦ DARK. EXPLICIT. 18+. You’re responsible for the media you choose to consume ♦
Bucky’s not used to you being sick. And he’s disturbed by it. Deeply. It’s evidenced by his pacing, the way he paces inside and outside the house in his werepanther form, a bone-deep instinct to ward off all potential threats keeping him alert, on edge, feral.
You, his mate, are hurt and it stirs distress and anger in Bucky, both the man and panther in him.
He’s barely said a word to you since you’ve returned from the hospital, expressing himself through gravelly mewls, frustrated growls and that fiercely concerned glint glowing in his big blue eyes whenever they rest upon you. It’s clear he’s more beast than human right now, the sight of you hurt causing him to retreat into the animal side. You’ve never felt such a raw connection to Bucky through the bond. It’s sizzling, his conflicting feelings bleeding from it and sitting heavily in your chest. Bucky blames himself. And you hate that he does. You know it’s twisted that you care at all. You weren’t exactly… willing when Bucky claimed you. It’s hard to untangle how much is real sometimes or simply the bond forcing you to return his obsessive affection. You stopped trying to figure it out months ago. It hurts your head - and heart - too much.
Heaving a deep sigh, you call to Bucky from your spot nestled in the sheets, where he tucked you in himself.
“Bucky, stop circling the bed. No one’s gonna come in here. I promise.”
Two incandescent orbs lost in a mass of inky fur still at the sound of your voice. His stalk in front of the bed halts and, for a second, your heart stops. He’s intimidating in this form. A beast the size of a tiger protecting its claim, its territory. You.
He shifts as he climbs over the bed, the dark fur falling in tufts over the blanket. The long tail and ears remain, signaling he hasn’t fully returned to his human state. Bucky curls himself at your side, peaceful in his nakedness. His cheek rests against your thigh and his tail wraps around your ankle.
He purrs deep in his chest, the vibrations seeping through your skin, as you graze behind his furry ears. When you linger on a spot he likes, Bucky rubs his head against your hip and groans. Warmth rushes to your face when you steal a glimpse between his muscular thighs. He’s already half hard from this mere, innocent touch.
“You shouldn’t worry about me so much,” you murmur, carding your fingers through his silky chestnut strands.
You recall your brief trip to the hospital. You came home sick the day before. The coughing kept getting worse and you struggled to breathe. The fever rose and rose despite Bucky doing everything he could to keep you cool. You were delirious and sweaty but you clearly remember Bucky. He carried you in his arms all the way to the ER, threw a tantrum when you weren’t tended to immediately and damn near tore off the head of everyone who touched you in a way he didn’t like. Bucky hates other people touching you. You’re his mate. No one should be touching you but him. So while things were hazy, they must have been dire for him to allow it.
While he doesn’t reply with words, his feral snarl communicates well enough what permeates through the bond. Worry, longing, lust, confusion and fear. The fear of losing you, acute and sharp as a knife twisting in your insides. Lip trembling, you swallow. The meds are working but you’re still lightheaded, exhausted.
“Mate…” he grumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulls at the blanket and rubs his head on your thigh. As his fingers crawl down, his features relax. Touching you soothes him. But the tension lingers in his taut muscles. He still needs reassurance, certainty that your state is improving. Bucky drapes his hand over your forehead. The fever’s broken down and relief paints his face as a result. He then bends down to kiss you. You melt beneath him, too weak to resist the way the bond fogs your thoughts, making your body keen in surrender. As he kisses a path down your chest and towards your stomach, you clutch his brown mane.
“Bucky, I don’t think now is the time…”
“Mate,” Bucky snarls, parting your thighs as you try to keep them closed. Determination is etched in his glowing cobalt gaze. Bucky’s displeasure at your meek resistance prickles your spine. You gulp as he settles between your thighs, lifting your oversized shirt. The first brush of his oddly warm tongue over your slit has your eyes rolling backwards.
Bucky’s claws dig into your soft skin as he rumbles against your core. His eyes flutter close when he tastes you. His tongue dives in slow, caressing your folds. One of your hands buries in his locks as the other grips his broad shoulder. His hard muscles ripple underneath your touch. You chew on your lip when Bucky’s tongue curves inside you.
The morning light peeks through the curtains, the scent of petrichor wafting from the windows. The warm glow of dawn bathes Bucky’s muscular frame. Soon, your moans and the wet squelching of your cunt swells in the room. Your back arches against the sheets. The tug on his strands is firm as you get lost in pleasure, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind. His thumb presses against your tender bundle of nerves and your hips wiggle to meet his lips. His tongue drags in and out of you, swirling over your clit as it throbs from the stimulation.
“Bucky,” you mumble.
“Still for me, mate…” Bucky growls huskily as you squirm under his relentless tongue. His hold on your thighs tightens.
Heat licks at your flesh as tingles bounce in your core. Your lips part, a high pitched shriek escaping as Bucky keeps teasing your soft spots.
He keeps his attention until you beg and beg, until a numb ache spreads into your limbs. He tastes your arousal with a lewd hum, a smirk slanting his pink lips upward. His lips glisten and his eyes sparkle. “Sweet mate.” His Adam’s apple bobs and his chest vibrates as his gaze flickers down to your panting form.
He bites his lip and slithers over your body, his cat ears twitching as he inhales your scent. The familiar blue orbs fill with darkness and you shiver. Bucky’s eerily still, like a statue, before he pounces on you. You whimper as frantic hands slide beneath your shirt, groping your breast, and teeth sink into your shoulder. His pulsing need prods your stomach. He scatters feverish bites over your neck, his palm cupping your drenched cunt. “Need to feel you, mate,” he purrs. “Need to feel all of you.”
