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, Infidelity, Dark!AU, Grey/Dark Avengers AU,
A/N: i can only hope y’all are as excited to read this next chapter as i am to share it with you. i’m so happy to be back in the Rattler-verse!! 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!
The makeup artist spritzes you with something, telling you to close your eyes just before the droplets make contact with your skin. You’ve never been much for makeup, and so when Tony asked if you’d like someone to “get you camera ready”, you’d said yes without a second thought. Now though, as she spun you in the chair and positioned you like a doll, you were beginning to regret it.
“Just stay still, yes?” She says sternly in her thick accent. “Spray need time to set.” She seems rather busy, flitting around the little room with the nervous energy of a hummingbird. “No touch face,” she warns, waggling a finger at you. “I be back.”
You count to ten before opening your eyes nervously, expecting to see Svetlana waiting with her arsenal of make-up brushes, but instead, you see Bucky. Leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his eyes cloudy and unreadable.
“Oh,” you can’t help the sharp intake of breath as you raise your hand to your chest in surprise. “S-Sorry. I was expecting…” You trail off. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He says. “I’m just first on guard duty.” The smile he gives you is unsure, like he doesn’t know whether it’s okay to make a joke or not. He reaches out a hand for you to shake, and you take it, noting the warmth and whir of machinery under your touch.
“Ah.” You tap your fingers against the arms of the chair you’re in, unsure of what to say. You don’t know if you should bring up that you remember him, remember what he did—he didn’t seem too comfortable with it in the hospital room, and you’re loathe to invite the dislike of one of the people tasked with your protection.
“I um, I just, God, sorry this is awkward. I wanted to say thank you. Um. For saving me. I’m going to say it, you know, out there, but I thought it might be more meaningful if you, um. Heard it from me personally first.”
It isn’t quite surprise that graces Bucky’s ; features, his eyebrows rising up his forehead. More like incredulity, like he hasn’t really ever been thankedbefore.
“You’re welcome.” He says after a moment, like he’s trying to figure out just how to respond. “I know Tony can be pushy.” He rolls his eyes, and it makes you laugh. “But thank you. For what you’re doing.”
You’re still not sure about it, and the thought of standing in front of the press is starting to make your hands clammy. A nervous laugh bubbles from your lips.
“I wouldn’t thank me yet. I’m not the best public speaker.” You fix Bucky with a wry smile. “There’s still time to find someone better, I think.”
“You’ll do fine, doll. Just… pretend they’re not there. Would it help if I stood in the audience?” He asks, a small smile on his full lips. “Make it like you’re talkin’ to me. Not them.” His suggestion brings a shy heat to your cheeks—that’s the kind of thing Pat would have suggested, if he’d been able to get the time off from the nursing home to make it, anyway.
“Yeah, actually. You’d do that? I thought you were just supposed to like, keep people from stabbing me, sort of thing,” You joked, and he laughed.
“I can do that from the audience, doll. Your guy’s got nothing to worry about.” He jerks his head towards the modest oval cut diamond on your left ring finger. “Already saved you once, figure I’ve got a pretty good track record.”
You laugh, and it surprises you because it’s actually real. You’d been worried they would all be like Tony, plastic and terrible and fake,but Bucky seemed… nice, despite his kind of checkeredpast. You’re about to say something else when Svetlana clears her throat behind him. Her foot taps impatiently against the expensive tile as she glares at him.
“Move, metal man. I finish her now.”
Bucky holds his hands up placatingly. “I’m goin’, I’m goin’. I’ll be right outside if you need me to,” he pantomimes a chokehold, and you stifle a giggle. He seems… relieved, like he’d been on guard—and you had to admit you had been too.
Maybe this won’t be so bad.
It wouldn’t be so terrible to come out of this with a friend—maybe one that would enjoy Patrick’s four hour Call of Duty sessions more than you did.
When Svetlana finishes your makeup, you’re sandwiched between her and Bucky all the way backstage. You swallow nervously at the sight of Tony Stark, locked in a particularly heated conversation with Nick Fury—who didn’t look happy.
“—options? Creating your own propaganda machine just the next logical step?”
“It’s not propaganda if it’s true. You know we can’t afford another Germany, not now—”
“Buck! And the guest of honor, I presume.” Steve Rogers steps directly into your field of vision, a hand outstretched for you to shake. “Nice to see you again.” You finagle your crutches until you can balance long enough to shake it firmly. His wife peeks out from behind him, and Steve wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “No need to be shy, sweetheart.”
You watch her give a strained smile. “Nice to meet you.” She’s heavily pregnant—likely about to pop any day now. You recall the news headlines from just months prior, the news footage of Captain America pulling his beloved wife from the firey wreckage of the accident.
I wouldn’t want to be here after that, either.
Steve presses an affectionate kiss into her hair. “I’m going to go find a place for this one to sit down. Shouldn’t be on her feet too much.”
“No, I shouldn’t,” she echoes softly, before giving you a genuine smile. “Good luck out there.” Her eyes flick to Steve and then back to you. “You’re in the snake pit, now.” You can’t ask her what she meant before Steve places a firm hand on her shoulder.
He steers her away, and you glance at Bucky. There’s a strange sort of… longingin his gaze as he watches them go, and you wonder if he has anyone to go home to. You only have a few seconds to ruminate on it, though, before Tony Stark’s wide grin is all you can see.
“Thank you for coming, thank you.” He looks genuinelypleased, at least. “I trust Sunshine here’s given you the rundown?” Tony jerks his thumb at Bucky, who simply glowers in his direction.
“Yeah. I go up there and utterly humiliate myself in front of the city and probably the whole world,” you mutter, wiping clammy palms against the dark blue fabric of your dress.
“You’ll do fine, kid. Can’t be harder than getting shot, right?” He claps you on the shoulder, and you swallow the urge to shove his hand away. You’re queasy enough as it is without the additional conflict.
Tony takes the stage before you do, and his solemn expression is reflected on the many screens all around the room. He’s used to press conferences, you can tell—he knows exactly where to look. It’s hard for you to concentrate on his introduction as you shift in your chair, waiting anxiously for him to pass the baton to you.
You wish Pat was here—he would know what to say, what to do to make these nerves nothing more than an unpleasant tingle in your chest. No, Pat is at work, again,and it’s yourfault. You clench your fists against your thigh, and try to take deep breaths. Slow, in through your nose and out through your mouth.
“You okay?” Even though his hand is made of metal, Bucky rests it lightly on your shoulder. “You need water, or something?” He looks up toward the stage, where you can see Tony’s back as he gesticulates, the same serious expression still painted onto his features. “Hate these things.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I’m… well, you know.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Winter Soldier, and all.”
You nod your understanding. “No, I, um. I get it.” Bucky’s smile is small, but grateful.
“Say the word, and I’m your man in the crowd, doll.” He reminds you, just as Tony turns and gestures to you.
“It’s time,” he mouths the words at you, just in case his clear signals weren’t enough.
“Yes, please. Do that.” You huff out a breath as you situate your crutches under your arms and hobble over to the short set of steps. There’s a podium, and a little red stool beside it, which you gratefully sit on. There are so many people, cameras flashing—your heart thuds in your chest faster than an oncoming train.
And then you spot him. Close to the front, in the middle, his arms folded but there, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Thanks Bucky.
You’d missed Tony’s introduction entirely, but you don’t really need it—hands immediately begin popping up as you settle yourself on your seat, and hesitantly, you call on one of the first reporters you see.
“Yes?”
She stands a little taller, raising her microphone above the crowd. “In your own words, what happened on April 17th?”
“I, I, um—” You glanced down at Bucky and tried to remind yourself you were just talking to him. A casual conversation between friends. “I’m an art history student. Masters. So I am—I was,”you correct yourself, “at the Museum a lot. I think I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, because I was in the exhibit room Adrian Kettleton locked himself in when he came to make his demonstration.
I don’t know what happened before he started shooting. But when he did… everyone was on the ground. There was a lady there w-with kids,” your throat goes tight, and blindly, you grasp for the microphone. “S-sorry, I, um, I need a minute.” You turn away from the reporters, cover your face with your hands, and tryto breathe deep. What would Pat say?
“It’s okay, babe, take all the time you need.”
You wait until your heart is steady again before you lower your hands
“Kettleton opened fire, and he said this would all be over soon. That the cops would show up and that—” You choked back a sob—“only a few people would have to die.” You hadn’t even really talked about this with Pat, leaving it for the insurance-provided therapist to untangle. He shot two people before me while the police tried to talk him down, and…” Bucky nods encouragingly at you from the audience.
“Then the Avengers showed up. I… I had already been shot, but… I would be dead if they weren’t there.”
You’re not sure if you did what you were supposed to do, Bucky’s face is passive, and you can’t really look behind you to gauge Tony’s reaction. A man in the front raises his hand, and you point at him.
“So what you’re saying is, the police were ineffectual?”
You frown. “N-no, I didn’t say that, I said—”
“You said that the Avengers showed up. You’d already been shot, isn’t that right?”
You press your lips together into a frown. “Yes. Yes that’s right. But I’m notsaying the police were ineffectual. I’m saying that the Avengers saved my life.”
“I see.” You wonder how far he’ll run with that, how far they’ll allrun with it, but several more hands jump into the air, and your heart beats faster at the sight of them.
“Do you believe the shooting in Texas and the one in Shanghai are related?”
“Did you know Adrian Kettleton prior to the shooting? You both attended NYU, only a few years apart.”
“Your father shares some anti-hero sentiment, how does he feel about this?”
You’re dizzy as Tony helps you from the stage, camera flashes still seared into your retinas.
“You did good, kid. Real good.”
—
“It’s not that bad.” Patrick’s voice is wheedling through the bathroom door. You’d gotten home a few hours ago, and had been grateful to spend your evening binging the shows you’d missed with Patrick on his night off—
Until your phone began blowing up with clips of you,at the press junket. Different news stations had grabbed different parts, zeroing in on everything. Your speech, your movements, your hair, your clothes—
Rita: you seeing this?
Your little sister had attached a screenshot of a twitter thread, and you huff out a frustrated breath as you glare at it.
“It’s not you they’re publicly dissecting,” you moan. It’s not justyour friends and sister sending you things, it’s your socials—your twitter mentions are numbering in the tens of thousands, and your facebook friend requests look about the same. Your private instagram account has seven thousand follow requests, and you scroll through them all with your heart in your throat.
There are people calling you a liar, a con artist, claiming the Avengers were in on it, that they’d paid you to take a bullet. There were people claiming you’d never even been shot at all, which in and of itself was laughable. There were more, kinder folks, sending you well wishes, along with bots attempting to hawk you miracle remedies and diet teas.
A disaster.
“You know there’s someone claiming to be my third grade teacher?” You lament. “Which, if that really isMiss Hayes, makes me feel like shit because she called me a petulant little drama-queen.” Patrick sighs, and you can feel the weight of it through the door.
“One, I doubt that’s her because she would be like, ancient now, and probably not on twitter at all. And two—” The sound of the intercom buzzing cuts him off, ringing loudly through the apartment. You can practically hear the frown in Pat’s voice. “Who the hell…? I’ll be right back.” He clamors away from the door, and you get to your feet, brushing a few cat hairs from your leggings.
“Oh. I just, I guess we didn’t know you were coming. Starting tonight? Okay. Hold on, I’ll buzz you up.”
You poke your head out of the bathroom door in time to see Patrick unlocking the front door at the far end of the long hallway.
“You didn’t tell me you were supposed to have bodyguards,” he shout-whispers at you. “Your first shift is here. I think it’s all the press stuff.” You pad down the hallway to peek around Patrick, listening to the sound of heavy footfalls coming up the narrow stairs to your apartment.
Bucky’s chestnut hair comes into view first, and then his dark, steel blue eyes light on yours and he smiles.
“Hey, there, dollface.” Your face warms as Patrick’s grip tightens almost imperceptibly on your upper arm. “Sir.” He nods to your fiancé in greeting, and Pat relaxes a little.
“I thought I only needed someone, you know. During the speaking engagements,” you say, stepping aside to allow Bucky into the apartment. Patrick locks the door behind him, his face a bad mask of good-will. He isn’t happy about Bucky being here, but the both of you know he’d deposited Tony’s check yesterday—there was little he could do about it now other than ride it out.
“Some of those folks online are saying some pretty nasty things. Thought it might be a good idea for one of us to be close by in case anything happened.” He doesn’t step further inside than the foyer, like he’s trying to make it clear he knows he doesn’t belong. “I can stay out in the hall if it’s a bother.”
“No, of course not.” You know Patrick would have told him that was fine—male pride—but it isn’t, not for you. “You came to protect me, the least we can offer is the couch.”
You hobble around after Patrick, helping set up the couch for your unexpected guest. Bucky doesn’t intrude, toeing off his boots in the entry way and hanging his jacket on the hook while he waits.
“Thank you. I’ll just knock out here.” He lays down on the couch, folding his arms behind his head. You and Patrick retreat awkwardly into the bedroom, and he turns on a random show on Netflix to cover the sound of his whispered frustration.
“It’s just, you’d think they’d tell us something like that could be a possibility.” He runs a hand through his curly hair. “It’s just… It’s a little scary, I guess.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted me to go sign up for this,” you shoot back. Patrick relents, throwing his arms up and heaving an irritated sigh.
“I hate when you’re right.”
“You just hate that I think things all the way through,” you mutter, punching his arm. “Now help me into bed.” You giggle as he sweeps you up, depositing you onto the bed. You haven’t slept with Patrick since you’d been home from the hospital, and he hadn’t pushed, but tonight when he kisses you, there’s intentbehind it that you can feel. You sigh against his mouth, bringing your hand up to cup the side of his face.
There’s a dull thump and the sound of footfall— was the door always open a crack?— but living in a building this old means your life has a soundtrack of unexplainable noises, and so you dismiss it.
Pat is careful, his thrusts slow and shallow when he slides in, and you sink your teeth into your lip to hide your soft moan at his entry. He feels good, familiar inside of you, and he brings his thumb down to rub at your clit when he cums just before you can. You whine into your closed fist, your thighs trembling as your walls contract around his still hard cock. Pat makes a pleased noise low in his throat before he slides out of you, kissing the tip of your nose.
It feels like a walk of shame as you hobble to the bathroom to clean yourself up, but Bucky’s deep, steady breaths assure you of his slumber when you sneak back to bed. That’s ridiculous. I’m an engaged woman and this is my house.
You lay down next to Patrick, falling quickly into dreamless sleep.
Hazily, some hours later, you’re aware of the sound of his pager going off, and he shifts with a groan. You’re used to it, him being called in early for a shift, though you hate the loss of him. Your bed is warm and comfortable, even without Pat in it, and you fade softly in and out, time interrupted by the brief stretches of black behind your eyelids. Pat getting up—and then dressed—and then kissing you goodbye, his cologne tickling the insides of your nostrils.
“Bye babe,” he whispers, brushing his lips over the apple of your cheek. “Be back later.”
“Mmm,” is all you manage to mumble in response. Something clicks— the front door, maybe? You aren’t sure —and in the silence, you slip back into slumber. You’re dreaming of flying, and then— hands, rough, warm hands, no, one is cold, cold on your skin— you mumble sleepily.
“Pat?”
“Mmm,” he grunts from between your legs, his nose pushing up against the seam of your panties. He pushes up the hem of your t-shirt, and you feel the cool metal of his orderlies’s tags against your thigh before he moves them away, his lips dragging over the spot the’d just vacated. You’re so tired—the painkillers keep you woozy until at least mid-afternoon—your eyes are barely cooperating as Patrick attaches his lips to your clit through the thin cotton of your panties. His beard rasps against your thighs, burning against your skin deliciously.
You gasp, thighs tightening around his head. Two fingers edge beneath your panties, tugging them aside so that he can slide his tongue through your folds with an appreciative sigh. You drag a hand through his hair under the blanket, and Patrick chuckles huskily against your core.
“Feel good, sweetheart?”
His voice is off, somehow, too husky, too low, but the pressure of his fingers at your entrance pushes the thought from your head. The sweet burning stretch of them makes you keen, your hips bucking up toward his face. He doesn’t let up, and you squeal loudly as his teeth scrape against your sensitive clit, and he curls his fingers inside you.
“Go on and cum, sweetheart. S’alright.”
Youdo,your toes curling as tears leak out of the corners of your closed eyes. You whine as he wiggles his fingers inside your spasming cunt, drawing them out with an embarrassingly slick noise. There’s another sound, like he’s licking them clean, and he chuckles again.
“Sweet.”
—
You sit up in bed with a start, wincing at the pounding in your skull. The pain meds always make you feel hung over when you wake up, and today is no exception. A glance at the digital clock on the table tells you it’s after midday, and Pat’s side of the bed is long cold.
I must have slept through him leaving, again.
You slide out of bed, and your cheeks heat at the wetness between your thighs. You’d known Patrick missedsex, but you hadn’t thought he’d missed it that much. You couldn’t keep the little smile off of your face as you limped to the kitchen, and found Bucky seated at the table, a newspaper in hand.
“G’morning, sleepy head. Your honey left you some breakfast on the stove.” He jerked his head toward the plate on the bottom right burner. You lifted a corner of the paper towel, and saw he’d left you scrambled eggs, with a few slices of cheese on top. “He always leave so early?”
You popped the plate into the microwave, nodding.
“Yeah. They’re really short at the nursing home, so it happens a couple times a week. But if he left that early, he should be back—” Patrick’s key clicks in the door, and you laugh. “Right about now.”
You hear him kicking off his shoes in the entryway, before he pokes his head into the kitchen. “Oh, look, you’re up.”
“Blame the pills,” you grumble, grinning as he presses a kiss to your cheek. You run the backs of your knuckles over the smooth curve of his cheek, and you furrow your brow. “When did you shave?”
“This morning, before I left.” He cocks his head as you swallow thickly. “Why?”
Your eyes slide to Bucky, casually skimming the paper as he lifts a mug of coffee to his lips.
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!
Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, coercion, voyeurism, abuse of power, double penetration, cheating. My tags are not exhaustive, proceed at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary:Your marriage is challenged by the wandering eye of the king. (Medieval AU)
Characters:Peter Parker, Tony Stark
Note: Okay, it’s actually 9k long so apologies but hope you’re ready for this one shot I was like oh it’s gonna be 4k and quick but I’m that bitch.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3
Love you all like Prince Charming loves mirrors. Take care.
The breeze is balmy as it blows through the leaves and rustles the skirts heaped around you. You kneel on the ground without a care for soiling your dress, the sweat dripping down from your hairline as your fingers are stained purple with the juice of berries. The queen dares to taste one as she laughs with the duchess, Wanda, and you add a handful to the basket you share with Lisbeth.
The way Peter manipulated her into performing for the king was so slick. It really shows how he’s all about himself. Now I need for bae to poison his ass so she can get that ye old midieval insurance.
Cuz ain’t no way he gon sell her body for a fucking job and get away with it.
And fuck Tony too! He needs to be a parliament meeting or with his wife, not in other women’s nookies.
I explained this to my seven-year-old cousin once when she expressed distaste over anyone possibly enjoying horror movies, and she understood perfectly, so adults have no excuse:
People read dark fiction for the same reason they ride roller coasters.
It’s a simulation of danger without anyone actually being under threat. It gets the brain worked up, releases a bunch of adrenaline into your system, you experience a whole rush of emotions and excitement and fear; but a safe kind of fear, where you know the danger isn’t real and there are dozens of measures in place to protect you. And then it’s over and you can get off the ride.
That doesn’t mean everyone is obligated to ride roller coasters. I, for example, am scared of heights, and most coasters are scary for me in a way that isn’tfun. The fear isn’t that I’ll die, the fear is of experiencing more of the ride and thus it’s not a safe fear, because it’s real and I have no control over it. As such, I don’t ride large roller coasters. But the fact that large coasters are not mentally or emotionally safe for me to ride doesn’t mean they should be illegal, or that there’s “something wrong” with anyone who enjoys them.
Similarly,sometimes accidents happen. Sometimes people have conditions they don’t know about until a coaster aggravates them in the worst possible way because they didn’t know to avoid it…and that’s no one’s fault. People have died or been injured in coaster accidents, and those accidents are pretty much always the result of human error, carelessness, laziness, or poor communication. It’s the responsibility of the amusement park to make sure that basic safety features are built-in and maintained–or at the very least (mangling the metaphor somewhat because this would obviously be illegal in real life) to make it clear that those features don’t exist! I feel like most people would avoid a ride clearly labelled “HAS NEVER HAD A SAFETY INSPECTION! NO RESTRAINT BARS! RIDE STAFF HAVE NOT BEEN TRAINED AND THERE ARE NO EMERGENCY SERVICES ON-SITE! OPEN FLAMES!” but if you click on a fic clearly labelled “author chose not to use warnings” you know the risks and they’ve met their obligation to warn you of them. And sometimes the people providing this content don’tperform that basic due diligence, and people get hurt as a result–but that’s on those specific bad actors, and doesn’t mean we ban all roller coasters. It also doesn’t mean every single ride operator on earth should be tarred with that brush, especially when they’ve openly spoken out against such practices! Furthermore, if you KNOW you have a heart condition and willingly get on a ride that says it is not safe for people with heart conditions, you cannot then blame the amusement park!
What makes roller coasters safe for me? Well, for one, the fact that I’m an adult now so my family has finally stopped trying to force me onto them. Pressure was a constant part of interacting with coasters for me for YEARS, and THAT fucked me up. There was “mild” teasing, frustration when I refused, anger if I changed my mind, and a lot of guilt-tripping about how it was my fault that they couldn’t go on the rides they wanted to because of me. That shit was not okay, and anyone trying to force someone to engage with content they don’t want to is obviously in the wrong.
The OTHER thing that helps me is content warnings the heroes who upload on-ride video of coasters I’m interested in trying. Knowing exactly what to expect–being able to see for myself all the drops so I can judge if they’ll be too much for me, and know in advance where they are so I can brace myself–can turn a ride that otherwise would have been a miserable and stressful experience that I chose not to subject myself to into a really good time. These are especially valuable, because what’s safe for ME is not automatically safe for everyone else. The only thing that makes a ride too much for me–my only hard limit–is extremely tall drops. I love inversions, fast twists and turns, I don’t mind rough coasters, it’s just drop height. But I’ve known people with medical conditions that made rough jolts dangerous, and plenty of people like tall drops but find tight turns and high speed overwhelming. Do I wish more coasters were designed to have the elements I enjoy without the ones I don’t? Yes, and not being able to find many frustrates me. But that doesn’t mean I expect everyone to have the same limits, or that I think people who design tall coasters with big drops and lots of airtime are malicious.
By this logic, actually, darkfic is muchsafer than roller coasters–once you’ve committed to a coaster you have to ride it out even if you change your mind. But the moment a dark fic or horror movie takes a turn you don’t like or becomes suddenly too real, you can turn it off and walk away.
And if you think enjoying roller coasters means someone will conclude that it’s okay to fling people off cliffs without their consent, then, well, in that case you’re just ungodly fucking stupid. Sorry you had to find out this way.
Have fun on those hypercoasters, you crazy bastards. Keep uploading ride videos for me.
You never could’ve expected a celebration to go so, so wrong. The land was foreign, too warm compared to the Cold Lands, and filled with horrible people. Horrible people that planned to sell you to the highest bidder — who, as you’d come to learn, was the ruler of the stupid seaside city. She was a beautiful empress, the high priestess and war general her consorts and evidently, your new masters. Human beings shouldn’t be given as gifts, much less called ‘pets’, and you found the ship that was your life sinking so much faster than you ever could’ve expected.
rating: M | 18+ chapters: at least 7, not sure chapter: 2/? relationship: dark!carol danvers x dark!natasha romanoff x dark!valkyrie x reader warnings: noncon&dubdon, pet play, degradation&humiliation, kidnapping, slavery, detailed warnings to be included per chapter; read more and CTRL+F to search ‘content warnings’ to skip to the more detailed tags at the bottom of the chapter.
note: hey guys, this story was inspired by @scarlettwlw who helped me come up with the idea! i’m technically back from hiatus. oh and im not doing tag lists anymore, if you want to be alerted when i post a fic you can follow me over on a03, same handle. enjoy!
It was the resolve in her eyes that made Carol wary. She wasn’t sure if Natasha recognized it or not, wasn’t sure if Natasha had ever felt the same kind of resignation and grit their kitten had settled into. Carol and Val had courted the redheaded priestess in the form of constant military barrages on her home city until their council had relented and traded the woman for peace, and Natasha’s reaction had been more along the lines of begrudging capitulation. She was fully aware the blonde and her General would’ve rained Hell on her home for as long as it took, would’ve murdered hundreds, and conceded despite her irritation.
You never could’ve expected a celebration to go so, so wrong. The land was foreign, too warm compared to the Cold Lands, and filled with horrible people. Horrible people that planned to sell you to the highest bidder — who, as you’d come to learn, was the ruler of the stupid seaside city. She was a beautiful empress, the high priestess and war general her consorts and evidently, your new masters. Human beings shouldn’t be given as gifts, much less called ‘pets’, and you found the ship that was your life sinking so much faster than you ever could’ve expected.
rating: M | 18+ chapters: at least 7, not sure chapter: 2/? relationship: dark!carol danvers x dark!natasha romanoff x dark!valkyrie x reader warnings: noncon&dubdon, pet play, degradation&humiliation, kidnapping, slavery, detailed warnings to be included per chapter; read more and CTRL+F to search ‘content warnings’ to skip to the more detailed tags at the bottom of the chapter.
note: hey guys, this story was inspired by @scarlettwlw who helped me come up with the idea! i’m technically back from hiatus. oh and im not doing tag lists anymore, if you want to be alerted when i post a fic you can follow me over on a03, same handle. enjoy!
It was the resolve in her eyes that made Carol wary. She wasn’t sure if Natasha recognized it or not, wasn’t sure if Natasha had ever felt the same kind of resignation and grit their kitten had settled into. Carol and Val had courted the redheaded priestess in the form of constant military barrages on her home city until their council had relented and traded the woman for peace, and Natasha’s reaction had been more along the lines of begrudging capitulation. She was fully aware the blonde and her General would’ve rained Hell on her home for as long as it took, would’ve murdered hundreds, and conceded despite her irritation.
You never could’ve expected a celebration to go so, so wrong. The land was foreign, too warm compared to the Cold Lands, and filled with horrible people. Horrible people that planned to sell you to the highest bidder — who, as you’d come to learn, was the ruler of the stupid seaside city. She was a beautiful empress, the high priestess and war general her consorts and evidently, your new masters. Human beings shouldn’t be given as gifts, much less called ‘pets’, and you found the ship that was your life sinking so much faster than you ever could’ve expected.
rating: M | 18+ chapters: at least 7, not sure chapter: 2/? relationship: dark!carol danvers x dark!natasha romanoff x dark!valkyrie x reader warnings: noncon&dubdon, pet play, degradation&humiliation, kidnapping, slavery, detailed warnings to be included per chapter; read more and CTRL+F to search ‘content warnings’ to skip to the more detailed tags at the bottom of the chapter.
note: hey guys, this story was inspired by @scarlettwlw who helped me come up with the idea! i’m technically back from hiatus. oh and im not doing tag lists anymore, if you want to be alerted when i post a fic you can follow me over on a03, same handle. enjoy!
It was the resolve in her eyes that made Carol wary. She wasn’t sure if Natasha recognized it or not, wasn’t sure if Natasha had ever felt the same kind of resignation and grit their kitten had settled into. Carol and Val had courted the redheaded priestess in the form of constant military barrages on her home city until their council had relented and traded the woman for peace, and Natasha’s reaction had been more along the lines of begrudging capitulation. She was fully aware the blonde and her General would’ve rained Hell on her home for as long as it took, would’ve murdered hundreds, and conceded despite her irritation.
Her full submission had been easy to gain— the Goddesses Natasha was devoted to were those of pleasure and riches, and they could provide those in spades, could easily prove themselves worthy of the priestess. They’d fucked the pretty redhead six ways to Sunday every day for weeks,offered her gifts that became more and more lavish as time went on. Natasha fell in line like a dream, taking on the role of Empress’s Consort with an almost uncanny skill.
Their kitten was several years younger than Natasha had been and yet somehow held herself with battle hardened fortitude despite her immaturity. She wasn’t acquiescent, she was enduring.There was a strength of will about her person, a disquieting sort of resilience that implied patience and tolerance and biding.
Those eyes flicked down to her injured leg, bound in sturdy bandages that would be traded for a splint in several days, and the nerve in her eyes only hardened. It was a break, or a fracture at the least, and she wouldn’t be going anywhere fast for the foreseeable future. Carol was somewhat surprised at the woman’s state—covered in bruises and lash marks and sporting a blackened, half closed eye, she looked nigh unsellable when you considered the state of her leg. The slavers must’ve been banking on how fucking lovely she was to drive her selling price up despite her deplorable state of health.
Washed and dried, the war paint gone from her face, she looked like a broken doll sitting in the middle of the bedroom. The state of her form had both herself and Natasha hesitating, if only slightly—fucking her into submission could potentially cause damage considering her already fragile state. There would need to be another method in bringing about her submission, if only for the next few weeks while she healed.
“Kitten’s more beat up than I anticipated,” Natasha voiced her thoughts with a small, considering hum. “Couldn’t see the bruises under the blood and powder back in the plaza. And with that ankle, she won’t be able to walk for months.”
“No, she certainly won’t,” Carol’s fingers tapped idly over her lower lip, the gears in her head beginning to turn in thought. “And she doesn’t speak our language, you’ll be the only one who can understand her.”
Those from the Cold Lands were notoriously private and they didn’t do business with outsiders. They were entirely independent, minus the raiding, and Carol just knewthey must’ve had more resources than they knew what to do with (personally, she also believed they had more warships than they knew what to do with, hence the constant fucking raiding). For them to share their language was as uncommon as them trading and the only reason Natasha could understand and speak it was because her Goddesses wanted her to.
“I can teach her,” Nat walked a circle around the sitting girl, smiling when she tensed at the predatory action.
But Carol’s brain had finally churned out an answer and she felt a slow smile cross her lips. “No, I don’t think she needs to learn. Kittens only need commands, after all.”
A light went on in the redhead’s eyes and Carol immediately held up a silencing hand. “Be a good girl and run down to the market, grab everything we’ll need. In the meantime, I’m going to start with some… simplecommands before Val gets home.”
“But—”
“Are you arguing with me, darling?” Blue eyes flickered over the redhead’s pale face, teeth flashing intimidatingly. “I need to work on training our pet, but I can take the time for a quick punishment if you want to push me.”
Nat shook her head immediately and Carol could see the way her pretty thighs pressed together under the shifting fabric of her skirt, instinctively trying to protect her delicate cunt from the threat of one of the blonde’s punishments.The redhead was quick to turn tail and run, figuratively speaking, only throwing a quick, baleful glance over her shoulder at the woman on the floor.
“Now, let’s see how fast you learn, precious,” the blonde cooed, watching Kitten tense as the attention locked on her gained several degrees of heat, and patted her thigh. “Come.”
The young woman obviously didn’t understand, a confused glance passing from the blonde’s hand to her face and back again. Carol cleared her throat and patted her thigh again, pointing at the floor in front of her feet for good measure.
“Come, Kitten.”
Still she didn’t move and Carol’s smile, already filled with teeth, became more sinister. It was exactly what she was expecting and definitely what she hoped for. The blonde walked forward, not giving their kitten time to retreat, and latched a hand around her throat. Immediately the young woman’s hands came up to ring hers and Carol was almost startled by the strength of her grasp—not strong enough to remove the hands on her neck, fortunately, but stronger than expected.
“You’re a dumb little cunt, aren’t you?” The tone she used transcended languages, so condescending that the girl on the floor shrunk back as much as she was able even as Carol shook her by the throat. “Let’s try this again.”
Carol let go abruptly enough that their kitten was disoriented and lost balance, nearly hitting the floor while the blonde took several measured steps backward and pointed at the floor in front of her again. “Come, Kitten.”
She looked around desperately this time, eyes locking on her injured leg for several seconds, flashing to the nearby furniture before she began trying to push herself to her feet from her position on her hip. The blonde groaned in disgust and immediately shoved her back onto the ground. The younger woman had to brace herself on both hands to avoid a second black eye.
“So fucking dumb,” Carol grabbed the back of her neck and forced her forehead to the ground, her lower body shifting until her bruised knees pressed into the mosaiced floor. “A kitten who needs to be taught how to walk? Stupid little pussy.”
With their kitten on her knees, face pressed against the floor, Carol took advantage of her unprotected ass and thighs. Wary of the already present bruises, the blonde rained hits down across the delicate flesh until half suffocated cries began to escape and the girl tried to squirm away, pretty legs parting as she tried to gain traction. The blonde used the shift to her advantage, laying open handed slaps over her exposed asshole and pussy.
“Now, this is how a kitten crawls,” Carol shoved three fingers deep into the young woman’s cunt, eliciting a high-pitched cry as she tried to press her thighs together to prevent further intrusion. Blue eyes lit with excitement and she lifted their kitten with the hand on the back of her neck, bringing the young woman back to her hands and knees. “Come.”
She tugged on their kitten’s neck, shoving her fingers to the hilt in her pussy to jolt her forward. The blonde continued, forcing the young woman to crawl forward several paces before she removed both hands and stood back. The kitten was teary eyed from the rough treatment, pretty face twisted with fear and humiliation that practically flooded the blonde’s cunt with desire.
“Come, kitten,” she pointed to the floor in front of her feet once more and immediately the young woman crawled on her hands and knees until her body occupied the correct space. “Good girl, kitten!”
Carol smiled at the way the young woman’s face twisted at the praise,looking disgusted and shamed. The resolve in her eyes was holding strong, resilient despite her mortification and Carol was almost proud of the kitten. The blonde continued moving away and forcing the girl to crawl to her several more times, until she was sure their kitten was keeping her injured leg raised properly.
“It’s not so much that you need to learn to come,” Carol enjoyed the small hint of frustration that showed on her face as the blonde continued to speak, the words meaning absolutely nothing. “But you need to learn that from now on you crawl because you’re just a little kitten. Just a little pussy,you understand? A pretty little pussy that belongsto us.”
Their kitten’s lower lip trembled just slightly as Carol moved towards the window, once again not understanding the words but easily able to read the tone.It was salacious and threatening and uncompromising; it was filled with promise. The blonde’s smile sharpened again as she lifted one leg and set it on the trunk beside her, shifting the airy layers of her dress until her wet cunt was visible.
“Come.”
With the intent so clear, their kitten was practically paralyzed with indecision and Carol could see it in her face; the determination to endure was at war with crippling humiliation and the need to fight back. Her lips twisted, eyebrows furrowing in frustration and helplessness. It was precious.
“Do you really want to see what happens when you disobey?” The blonde hummed derisively before gesturing the young woman forward again, generously giving her a second chance. “Come.”
Carol gave her several seconds before clicking her tongue and advancing forward, fast enough that the other woman couldn’t scramble back. She had their kitten prone on her back in a blink, whining in pain as her injured leg was jostled in the process—the blonde would have it reset before she allowed their pet to act out.
“Let’s get all those pesky thoughts out of your silly brain, Kitten,” she purred, smile salacious and frightening as she balanced on her knees over the other woman’s face. “You don’t make decisions, you follow fucking orders.”
A pleasured sigh escaped her as she lowered herself onto their kitten’s face, clit rubbing over the nip of her nose while her wet cunt settled over her mouth. Almost immediately the younger woman was kicking out with her good leg, arms wrapping around Carol’s thighs in an attempt to yank her away. The blonde’s head fell back, the desperate, minute shifts of their kitten’s head was rubbing just the right way in combination with the brutal grind of her hips. Her panic made her short of breath, she needed air.
Surprise had Carol’s eyes popping open, not that she’d realized she closed them, when their kitten actually managed to drag her hips back enough that she could catch several gasping breaths. Her lips and chin were dripping with the blonde’s arousal, pretty eyes wide and frightened. The slap that landed across her face made said eyes squeeze shut, their kitten crying out with pain when Carol cracked her hand against the other side of the young woman’s face right after.
“Hey! I decide when you breathe, you dumb pussy,” the blonde gave another pair of sharp slaps. “You don’t fucking move—”
She took advantage of their kitten’s mouth opening as she gasped for air, the burning pain in her cheeks making her heart pound and her brain plead for oxygen. Carol immediately flattened herself over the younger woman’s face, grinding her cunt against the slippery wet heat of her sweet mouth. A loud moan escaped the blonde, finding the perfect position before grinding her clit roughly into their kitten’s nose. Her hips moved with brutal fervor, completely ignoring the other woman’s struggling and cries—until she managed to turn her head again.
“Bad girl!” Carol shifted immediately to kneel above her again, slapping her into a daze before shuffling around to sit facing the opposite direction above her face. She positioned her pussy over her mouth again and settled down just as their kitten was starting to regain her senses.
The blonde used the change in position to pin the younger woman’s arms across her chest with one hand while the other reached between her flailing legs to rain painful slaps against her cunt. Her hips ground continuously into their kitten’s face all the while, chasing the pleasure until she could tell the other woman was getting close to passing out.
“Now you breathe,” the blonde murmured, raising her weight up enough that their kitten could wheeze for several long moments, entire body trembling from oxygen deprivation and fear while she choked on sobs. “Again.”
Carol was determined to find her orgasm while riding her pretty face. Their kitten heaved desperately just before the blonde could lower her weight again but was too weak to truly fight, going limp beneath her minus the fine tremors. The blonde’s hips moved with an assuredness that betrayed the frequency in which she participated in such an act—she knew exactly how far she could push and the goal was to fuck their kitten’s brain out. Feeling the struggles cease below her set Carol over the edge, grinding her orgasm out cruelly while their kitten floated in and out of consciousness.
“No thoughts in that pretty head now, are there?” She cooed, lifting herself up onto her knees and turning so she could look down into their kitten’s face. “Awh, not one. You don’t need to think, you just need to obey. Now, let’s try this again.”
The blonde tugged and manipulated their kitten back onto her knees while she herself stood up, leaving the young woman on all fours while she retreated back to the trunk. This time, Carol shucked her draped dress entirely and stood bare, one leg propped up to spread her cunt.
“Come.”
Immediately she shuffled forward on all fours, unsteadily and slowly but moving without hesitation, nonetheless. Carol’s smile was sharp enough to cut diamonds, all teeth and self-satisfaction as she watched their kitten come to a stop directly in front of her. She grabbed the back of the other woman’s head and forced her to look up, tugging until her face was practically pressed against her cunt once again.
“Clean up the mess you made,” Carol slipped her finger in their kitten’s mouth easily and tapped her tongue deliberately before directing her head once again. “Clean up, Kitten.”
The empress gave her a fair amount of time to try to parse out what was expected of her before the blonde forced her mouth open wide, and tapped her tongue with more force. “Stupid little pussy, you’ve got no higher thought, do you? Clean. Up.”
Her tongue poked out hesitantly and the blonde stroked her hand over the back of her head, pulling her closer. The young woman gave only the slightest hint of hesitation before carefully swiping her flattened tongue up Carol’s slit, jerking back slightly to see the blonde’s expression. Encouraged by the lack of anger or frustration their kitten, pretty eyes devoid of all intelligence still locked on the other woman’s face, carefully reattached her lips and tongue to her pussy.
“Ohh, you’ve eaten pussy before, haven’t you Kitten?” She moaned loudly, almost taken aback by how skillfultheir kitten was with her sweet mouth. “You gonna make me cum again? Yeah? Good girl.”
The blonde’s hands found purchase on the back of their kitten’s head, keeping her firmly pressed against her mound. She hadn’t planned to cum again, hadn’t intended to make the young woman eat her out so fervently but fuck,she was good and Carol didn’t want her going anywhere. Especially when the door silently opened and Val stepped in, eyebrows rising on her forehead in shock.
“Well, what in the world do we have here?”
content warnings: noncon fingering, oral, facesitting, suffocation, degradation, pet play, spanking (am i missing anything?)
Summary:You’ve always felt like you’re running from behind to catch up, but after a chance encounter with an enigmatic man, your life gets ahead of you. (Helmut Zemo)
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.
![Title: All this and Heaven, Too [2]Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x ReaderSummary: Caught in an anti-her](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0c175516abf542b49baf582427fa27b2/2eab12baf9d49dc3-96/s1280x1920/f5f32e663e155eb7f1d3f95dede68badf3748f5a.jpg "Title: All this and Heaven, Too [2]Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x ReaderSummary: Caught in an anti-her")
