Summary:The cottage has been in your family for many years, but your return has caught the interest of more than just the wildlife.
Words:3.5k
Warnings: Dubious Nature, Dark Themes, Fae Trickery, Soft!Dark!Fae!Bucky
Strange things started happening when you inherited the little cottage your family owned. It was originally your grandfather’s, and your parents had used it as a summer home when you were growing up.
But the cottage was always on the back burner. Up until recently, you were completely happy with your little suburban life. You liked the noise and the quick pace, and for a long time, you let the cottage fall to the wayside.
When you finally took the time to visit, tending to the cottage was only supposed to be a part-time job, but it surprised you. You had quickly fallen in love with its simplicity. It reminded you of the times you had been brought there when you were little.
The strange things first started when a stranded fawn happened upon the outskirts of the property. It was just a babe, helpless to the elements, and the mother was nowhere to be found. Instead of turning a blind eye you fed and nurtured it and sheltered it for the night. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t just leave it out there all alone.
By the time the sun rose the next morning the fawn was gone. You didn’t expect it to stay, but it disappeared without a trace. As you were cleaning up the nest of blankets and rags you put together you found a stone. It was small and opaque and perfectly smooth, and you marveled at it as you crouched down into the dirt.
The fawn wouldn’t have brought this to you. Your careful fingers plucked the stone from the nest, and you turned it over in your hand.
It was moonstone.
It was a stone of protection. A stone for lovers.
But how did you know that? You paused with a careful breath, mechanically returning it to the spot you found it. It wasn’t natural. Cautious eyes scanned the line of the cottage out to where the property backed up to the trees. You weren’t as alone as you thought.
The stone was a gift.
It was one you could not accept. One that you would not accept.
You weren’t typically superstitious in the city, but with this place, you held it with high regard. Call it your father’s intuition or your mother’s careful nature guiding you, but you were not going to actively seek out any trouble in these woods.
Without sparing another glance at the stone or the woods you hurried inside. A nagging feeling in the back of your mind told you that there was work to be done.
The early rays of the afternoon sun eventually bled into a long, orange sunset against the west side of the cottage. The delicate curtains were drawn tight, and the house was locked up.
You didn’t stoke the hearth that night.
The only telltale sign of life from the cottage was that you left a small basket on the edge of your porch covered in a pleated red cloth. You had used up the last of your apples to bake something sweet. The buttered pie was left on your porch to extend an olive branch. All you wanted was peace and never meant to disturb the unseen creatures of the woods.
Sleep was hard to come by. Every rustle in the trees and flap of wings made you jump, and you eventually took to burrowing in a number of heavy quilts to block out the noise.
You felt like you were going to be sick, that the creatures outside would tear the doors off the hinges and drag you into the night. Your parents used to talk about the unseen forces that lived in the forest, but this was your first encounter with them. You didn’t have any idea of what to expect and were only armed with the knowledge that the forest folk had a sweet tooth.
The night dragged on and try as you might, your thoughts kept drifting back to the moonstone. You had never before grabbed the attention of the unseen, and you so desperately wanted to be swallowed up by the dirt.
You just wanted them to take the pie. You wanted them to take it and leave you in peace.
The morning met you with a warm swell, even without the heat of the fire. With sleepy eyes, you knew it was time to face the music.
The porch was bathed in a yellow glow as you unlocked the door and stepped into the sun, and the basket was exactly where you left it. Upon closer inspection, you noticed the pie was gone.
With a lofty exhale you hurried down to the stack of blankets you had left the day before. Tossing aside your fears you rounded the side of the cottage. The moonstone was also gone.
You couldn’t contain your sigh of relief. It was a good sign.
The following days passed without fuss, and you slowly fell back into your routine with a pollyanna heart. You were at peace with the woods once more.
You read books and baked bread and tried your hand at chopping wood. You sang songs from your youth and wrote and were content. If only your parents could see you now. They would be so proud of how brave you were, of how smart you were. That was why you moved out here, after all.
In a way, it was one last attempt to get close to them.
But no amount of city living could have prepared you for the overwhelming energy of the woods. Was it always this way? You couldn’t remember. You thought that it would be cold and lifeless and quiet, but it was the opposite. Everything was alive and watching. The birds sang and plants grew quickly, and everything was rich with life.
You would have thought it disturbing if not for the overflow of comfort that tended to wash over you when you felt all alone. Maybe it was your dad looking after you, even now. Maybe your mother was helping you with the gardening and the foraging. It was a soft reminder of them.
One afternoon when the wind was particularly strong the cries of baby birds could be heard throughout the forest. They must have fallen from their nest. You had been weaving together stretches of cloth in an attempt to repurpose the old material but were pulled from your work when the crying didn’t stop.
Your heart lurched in your chest. You were going to help them.
The nest had been blown from a high branch in one of the pine trees and had been overturned at the bottom of the trunk. You turned over the nest with caution, only to find three baby robins cooing and crying at the disturbance.
You frowned. The mother was nowhere to be found. The baby birds must have been scared half to death.
You were careful not to disrupt the nest and scooped the hatchlings up in your work apron as well as the nest, setting them down altogether on a sturdier branch. It was a branch at eye level, careful to keep the babes from the danger of the forest floor. You left your apron there for extra protection and warmth, and you came back not long after with berries for the hatchlings.
It was the least you could do. One of the biggest differences in city living was just how quickly you got the gratification of getting a job done. Making appointments over the phone, sending important emails, and having dinner delivered to your door. It was so fast in some ways.
At the cottage, everything took extra effort, and for a small moment, you felt that similar rush. It was gratifying.
It was all in a day’s work to help, and you were no stranger to simple comforts. Your parents had raised you here, just like this. It was quaint. It was just as rewarding.
Just the same as before, you checked up on the hatchlings the next morning before tending to the rest of the cottage.
The apron was still there, lodged into the tree branch with the nest but upon closer inspection, the babes were gone. There were no birds nor berries or feathers, and instead, the stem of a flower was carefully tucked into the nest. It was no ordinary flower, no. You were familiar with the kind. Dicentra.
Bleeding hearts.
The pink strand of flowers was a stark contrast to its surroundings. You knew the plant well enough to know that they grew only on the far side of the forest. It was farther than you had traveled in a long time.
A shiver spiraled down to your stomach and your eyes scanned the tree line once more. This time you didn’t even dare to touch the gift left for you.
Again, you turned in early for the night. This time you left half a loaf of bread with a berry jam and a jar of honey in the basket.
It all felt like a delicate dance.
The night was cold, much colder than the last time you decided to let the fire rest. The quilts helped to keep you warm, but your body was overcome with shivers, nonetheless. This time it came in the form of listening to howls outside the front door.
Something was out there. You felt it. You knew it deep in your bones.
You could almost hear something beyond the howling, something softer. It was the quiet hum of wind chimes, but each time you thought you heard it the sound faded into the night. And then you remembered; you didn’t have wind chimes.
Sleep claimed you faster this time, almost suddenly. You couldn’t have prepared for it, and your dreams were extravagant.
The dream had been filled with sweet songs and comfort, and then it dissolved into the darkness of the woods.
And then you were barefoot, stepping away from the cottage onto a bloody patch of dirt and grass. Your dream led you down to the spot where you first tended to the fawn, patches of blood and fur marring the nest of blankets you had made. Your legs were propelling you away before you could get another good look, and when you peered ahead a different trail led you to bloodied feathers and the broken remnants of the bird’s nest.
It was a disaster. It was as if a fox had gotten into the henhouse.
Tossing and turning, you were suddenly hot. The chill in your veins was replaced with a hot ache, feeling it in your belly and down to your toes, until you entirely forgot about the carnage you walked through.
Your nerve endings were on fire. You knew you were dreaming. You needed to wake up.
The blood had faded away into warm daylight, but there was no solace. You weren’t alone. There was a snap of a twig on your left.
You needed to wake up. Now.
A pair of dark eyes, almost glowing against the trees had found you. You turned, running blindly into the brush, but it was only getting closer. You could hear whatever was behind you catching up. You could feel its hot breath on the back of your neck. You tried to scream.
Wake. Up.
With a jolt you startled up, taking a moment to realize you were still in your bed. The cottage was locked up tight. You were safe.
A broken cry had gotten stuck in your throat as you held a hand to your chest. You were overwhelmed and terrified.
It was still early, well before sunrise, but there was no way you were going back to bed. Not after that.
Never, and you swore neverhad you felt such dread. And you had never once felt that way in the cottage. What once housed feelings of comfort and peace were twisted into such horrific dread.
A terrible realization dawned on you. You were all alone in the middle of nowhere.
You thrashed the blankets off your body, suddenly too heavy against your skin. You felt trapped. The weight of it all was too much, even if the rest of the cottage had only gotten colder throughout the night.
Perhaps you could build a fire. Maybe you would take a hot bath to distract yourself. Damn the fear of the outside; you were convinced your dreams were the biggest threat to your safety.
Your body was flushed, rattled from the aftershocks of the nightmare. With a pant you let your body collapse against the pillows, letting your arm cradle behind it for extra support before you froze.
But there was something there, under your pillow. Sitting up in alarm you tossed your pillow to the ground.
No.
There, carefully placed under your pillow, were the moonstone and the bleeding hearts.
No.
“You are going to freeze, doll.”
Your eyes snapped towards the direction of the voice. There, leaning against the fireplace a distinct figure hugged the shadows. Tall and imposing, the shadow dwarfed the room. Strong shoulders and dark hair drew your attention first. The voice was lustrous and masculine, making you blink twice before listening to the gravity of his words.
You could feel the temperature of the room drop. The figure wasn’t lying. It was much colder now, and a puff of cold air was pulled from you when you exhaled. You reached for a blanket almost mechanically.
When you didn’t respond you watched as the figure crossed one leg over the other in the dark. Your eyes had adapted as best they could, but with the curtains closed and the fire snuffed out your vision was still limited.
“Let me help.” The figure offered with a hum.
As if by magic the fire roared to life at his words. The room was illuminated in warmth and light, and you held a hand up as your eyes squinted shut.
This didn’t make any sense. This couldn’t be happening.
Your body was tense, and once your eyes adjusted to the light you could get a good look at the figure, at the man. His skin was pale against a dark head of hair and thick eyebrows looked curiously at you behind bright, blinding eyes. They were blue as the spring water. You couldn’t deny that there was a sharp edge to them. All of his features were striking, from the curve of his lips and the stubble along his jaw to his taught arms and thick legs.
His clothes were dark, maybe blue or black, but you couldn’t be sure. He was a shadow in the night.
A palpable concern ran through you.
Against the firelight, you couldn’t deny a glowing tint in his eyes. It was too similar to the eyes in your dreams.
He was no man at all.
Your parents could have never warned you about this.
“Did you not like my gifts?” You dared to ask, your heart beating heavily in your chest.
A smirk curled at his lips. The man pushed off the wall, towering over you.
“Oh, I lovedthem.” He emphasized with a hum. This time he stepped forward, and you watched with careful eyes. Your confusion must have been clear as day. His tone was jovial, almost teasing. “But I thought you would have liked mine a little more. I will have to try harder.”
You were so overwhelmed that you missed his last sentence altogether.
“I was taught to not accept anything from the forest.” You stuttered out with an air of innocence. And obviously,ignorance.
You couldn’t understand him, how he liked your gifts but wouldn’t leave you alone. Your parents’ worries had swarmed in your mind. All of your careful preparation was in vain.
The man looked at you, confident that you knew that he knew exactly what you were thinking. Dark hair fell in his face, and he tilted his head.
“I wonder why that would be?” He speculated with a formidable grin. Those blue eyes pulled you back, filled with mirth and mystery. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Goosebumps pricked at your arms and for a moment you were at a loss for words.
You couldn’t remember.
There must have been a reason why you didn’t take his gifts. Why would your parents tell you not to accept anything from the forest? Your head felt heavy.
“I -” You paused, confusion settling into your features. “I don’t know.”
At your admission, the man’s grin only widened. His hand moved up and under his chin. His cunning voice swelled around you, and he stalked forward with an animalistic prowl.
“But you did like my gifts?”
The softness of his question made it sound like it wasn’t a question at all. You hummed out a breath before looking up at him.
“I did.”
You figured there would be no trouble in playing along.
His lips curled up into a smirk, showing off white teeth against the light of the fire. His eyes were teasing again, clever, and full of mischief.
“Then what do you say?” He asked, almost condescendingly. “You’re sweet. You’re kind. You must have been taught your manners.” He urged the words out of you, his startling eyes locked on yours.
The man was hauntingly beautiful.
You couldn’t look away if you wanted to. You…you weren’t sure if you wanted to.
“Thank you for the gifts.”
The whisper was so faint that it faded off before you realized it was you that spoke. Your head was foggy, slowly realizing the trap that you were falling into. It was almost as if you could hear him when he didn’t even speak.
That wasn’t so hard, was it?
He had stolen away at your senses with a clever wink.
All of a sudden, your parents’ warnings were swimming through your mind.
“It is dangerous in these woods. Don’t accept anything from the forest. The forest folk will twist your intentions. They are clever and powerful.”
“They can trap you in the forest and make you lose yourself.”
“Don’t give them your name. Don’t accept their trinkets, and don’t thank them for their kindness.”
What was happening to you? Your hands slumped forward against your thighs, and you could hardly hold your head up. A wave of nausea made you steel yourself to the bed frame.
“Who - who are you?” Your tongue was heavy against your teeth, and your breathing was labored. Your body was shutting down against your will.
Yours. I am yours.
His words pulsated against your temples. He was shushing you now, gently to calm you, taking a step closer to the bed.
“Doll, you are taking care of everything out here. This cottage is a treasure, but who is taking care of you?”
A shiver ran down your back. Your mind was flooded with images of the moonstone and the flowers, and how you helped the fawn and the hatchings. Then it shifted back to the tremors in your dreams.
You watched helplessly as the man’s blue eyes completely darkened, a golden ring shining around his irises. It was him all along. He was watching you the whole time.
You couldn’t find your voice, a startling noise catching in your throat. You couldn’t speak. Trying to back up against the wall your limbs were heavy.
You couldn’t move.
Physically immobilized, it was as if he had all control. How was this possible?
He was closer now and you could smell the grass and the salt and the rain against his skin. He crouched down in front of you, eye level with you, sitting on the bed. His cool breath fanned against your face and with a gentle hand, he brushed a thumb against your bottom lip.
Soft lips curled into a sinister grin, showing off a set of sharp, white teeth. With as much strength as you could muster you looked back up into his eyes. The blue in his eyes was completely gone, swallowed by dark, glowing pupils.
It was stunning and terrifying all in the same breath. It wasn’t human.
Closer still he leaned in, moving his thumb down to your jaw. The ghost of his lips was against your own before he claimed his prize and your rapture.
His kiss was poisonous. It was earthy and powerful and it shifted into something saccharinely sweet. You were helpless to it, melting against him as his tongue lapped at your own.
A breathless groan passed from his lips and settled against your skin. He was all-encompassing.
Against your better judgment, your arms were pulled up from your thighs. Like a puppeteer was commanding the strings, one hand settled against his chest and the other was curled around his shoulder for support.
It was what he wanted.
With newfound strength, you held on to him with all of your might as he kissed you again. This one was exploratory, lingering from the corner of your lips to the apple of your cheeks and down your jaw. Your body was buzzing like a lightning strike.
It was him. All of the heat and power were emanating from him.
A dark fog swirled in your mind, fully possessed by the man that held you close. If you could only look back and see yourself, you would have seen how your eyes had gotten dark, mimicking his own. His free arm rested along your lower back, sharp nails digging against your skin. There was no escape.
You could hardly think as the soft rumble of his voice settled over you.
“Your heart is the softest place on earth. Let me take care of it.”
Summary;You were anything but expectant after spending a night between the ellusive lawyers, James Buchanan Barnes and Steve Grant Rogers; it was a supposed fling. Something to spice up their marriage. So you weren’t exactly prepared with their advances nor the possessiveness that came with their attention.
Pairing; Soft!Dark Stucky x Reader, Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Reader, Soft!Dark Steve Rogers x Reader.
Warnings;Sexual themes, Adult content, Manipulation, Possessiveness, Soft!Dark Stucky, Married Stucky, Gaslighting Stucky, Age Gap (Steve is 40, Bucky is 39, Reader is 19) Please do not interact if it makes you uncomfortable!
A/N; This is my first time writing something of this nature; but this is more self indulgent than anything, because who wouldn’t want to be a hole for daddy stucky’s schlongs. This is a fun little something to repeat; if the man does not exist, so does my morals.
CHAPTER 1
The first time you laid eyes upon the infamous pair of lawyers, you couldn’t fight off the awe and astonishment at their perfectly sculpted faces and chiseled bodies; they were the picture perfect male specimen, coupled with their confident visage and such charming upturn of their lips and straight posture telling of their self assurance. And while they winked at you simultaneously as they caught you staring- you still weren’t certain it was you they had graced the wink with, but nevertheless, it made your cheeks flush in embarassment.
You chastised yourself, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were not only business associates in their ridiculously elite law firm, they were also very much married which entails they were thoroughly committed to one another. In the business sense, and in the literal sense of the word aswell.
Which is why you were quite… speechless to say the least when they approached you and introduced themselves. Steve extended his hand for a formal handshake, your soft palm touching upon his much rougher one, and he couldn’t help but brush his fingers upon your delicate knuckles before he presses a lingering kiss on the back of your hand. His blue eyes held you in that position, as if encapturing you in a trance which was enough to make you squirm.
Bucky chuckles as his hand finds its way to the small of your bare waist emerging from the sideline. “Forgive him, doll, he forgot to take his medicine.” You shuddered at the proximity of his lips to your ear; their presence made you uneasy, if only slightly, because you were unsure why they were paying attention to you.
“What did you say, punk?” Steve jerks his gaze away from your stunning face, jokingly narrowing his eyes at Bucky’s smug grin.
“I said you forgot your rabies injections, and you’re drooling on her pretty fingers,” the brunette says sarcastically, taking your other hand and kissing your fingers as well. You laugh at their impasse.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever had the honor,” You almost whisper, fluttering your eyelashes as you cast a provocative glance at the men. You were naturally flirtatious, if not a people-pleaser, knowing when to smile and politely take compliments to keep the banter going, and given the nature of your current employment, it wasn’t far from the addendums in contracts you were asked to sign.
Growing up attractive meant you get the pretty priviledge often. You’d flirted out of pretty expensive tickets, drinks and the likes, easily having every man you meet wrapped around your dainty fingers. Neither Steve nor Bucky were exceptions; yet you weren’t aware.
“Bucky Barnes.” He introduces himself with darkened blue eyes, you missed the bob of his adams apple as his eyes rack your scantily clad body. You were worth salavating for, the tightest of ass, the smallest of waist and hips- his jaw flexes as an image of himself driving deep into you and gripping your love handles. He would fill your pretty pussy with cum, your toned stomach with even more of his essence until your belly was bulging from what he had given you.
“Steve Rogers.” The blond replies with a smile, not making the effort to conceal his wandering gaze; in appreciation and parts possessiveness, both men making a quick work of scanning the room and throwing dirty looks that could make grown men shiver and look away in fear, just with the offense of staring at you.
The moment you had descended the stairs, after Stark’s dramatic monologue; “.. While all of my friends, hammer industries, in particular, have their own philosophical pursuits, a tedious tax break, yada yada, I’ve pooled some of my resources into an establishment that is both… pleasing to the eyes, and satiating to the loins. Hefner had his bunnies, allow me to present you to my kittens.“ he says, his grin widening as a seductive music reverberates throughout the mansion.
And there you were, among the army of attractive women walking down the stairs, their gazes drawn to you and only you; breath taken from their lungs by your bearing and beauty, innocent doe eyes and exquisite features but pretty fuckable body that they had felt the immediate stiffening of their cocks. It stood in attention as you flash your prettiest smile that they almost ached with raw and primal need to bend you over and fuck you senseless.
Probably infront of the large audience too, to ward off the hungry gazes directed to you. A feeling of possessiveness surging in their chest, and they looked at eachother wordlessly. In understading. In want. You were the missing piece in their life; all you, perfect and theirs. You wouldn’t need to prance around in only a nightwear in such a setting, and it took all they had to be able to hold conversations with other business associates before running to you.
Despite the fanfare, watching you from the corner of their eyes as you were pulled into conversations after conversations, Steve and Bucky barely containing their temper once they overhear the other man’s lewd proposal- almost storming the distance until you shut off his proposition with a smart reply that had him excusing himself.
They felt a surge of pride; but not really. They wanted to be the one to protect you, wanted to depend on them, wanted you to run to their arms with even the slightest bit of inconvenience. It was not fair that their little girl has already been roughed around the edges by the cruelty of human nature, but no longer. You were going to be kept and safe under their unwavering love and care.
As the night drones on, you didn’t even realize the gravity your smiles and slightly flirty remarks had done to the men. You had assumed they were only being polite, their touches merely platonic. Their interest at you were quite overwhelming but you credited it to their naturally inquisitive nature; out of propriety, politeness. A way to get to know the helpless kitten. One of Stark’s playthings to be able to keep their clientelle away from a potential lawsuit.
Yet the drinks were poured, one of their jackets on your shoulders as you were pulled into the back of their limo. Heartpounding, nails digging in their formal shirts, Bucky’s chest to your back, Steve feasting on your lips as if he were a starved man and you were the oasis.
Lips swollen from their attacks, the coat discarded elsewhere when things got more intense; pushed to the bed, wrapped and tossed from muscular arms to another, you cried out profanities as both men took sweet turns thrusting their fingers to the knuckles and lapping at you until you were mewling and trembling, tongues sucking at your juices with an even more darkened gaze than usual.
You didn’t know what it meant for their relationship, or whatever you were doing- letting men twice your age, in a committed relationship lap at you like you were their dessert. There was a twisted burn of heat once more as they kissed infront of you, your essence coating their lips and beards.
“Fuck princess, you’re so sweet.” Steve pants, licking his lips.
“So good and sweet doll.” Bucky murmurs in a praise, both men looking at you hungrily as you braced yourself when Bucky mounts you.
You didn’t tell them, you had no reason to because you were so deep into that cloudy haze of desire, you would have allowed them to wreck you and you would walk out the door with a grin, and a thanks.
“Ready, doll?” Bucky pants, basically hearing his heartbeat thrum in his ears. You were such a sight, sprawled in the bed your hair on their sheets, looking more than appetizing that his mouth was dry. His cock was slapping his navel, so hard it was pulsating. He lines up the head of his cock, coating the head with the heat from your folds, before thrusting himself to the hilt. Then freezing- your pained jolt, and the way you crawled at his arm clearly in pain.
Steve and Bucky coos at you softly, wiping the tears from your watery eyes and whispering sweet nothings.
“You’re okay, princess.” Steve whispers in your ear, kissing you heatedly to shush the whimpers escaping your lips. “You’re being such a good girl.” He hums, hands crawling to soothe at your nub making your hips buck.
Bucky hisses, the sensation of your warmth wrapping around him like a vice grip almost made his orgasm materialize, but he couldn’t have done that to you. So instead, he kisses your skin gentle and assuring at first until your sobs subside from their ministrations. They made your body rock and tremble with shattering sensations that the pain was forgotten and the only words you can mumble were lewd encouragements.
Soft whimpers, heated kisses- your legs wrapped so deliciously around their waist when they each drove into your slick and warm heat with frantic and passionate thrusts. Their seed coats your walls, dripping from your tight hole to your legs and overflowing, you felt the fingers dip from your inner thighs gathering essence before carefully shoving it back.
“So fucking full, princess.” Steve pants, pupils blown with barely contained possessivenes as he looks over your spent and tired body, chest heaving up and down from tiredness, skin flushed with heat and abso-fucking-lutely fucked with cum leaking out of all possible holes and stomach.
You were a sight to behold, “So pretty dollface.” Bucky pants to your ear, a smile present on his plump lips as he looks at your body on the bed.
Bucky and Steve shared an all knowing look, a conversation of understanding without needing too much words to be said.
You didn’t know you had been marked to be theirs. A possession to be perpetually owned. Because there was no way they were going to let you out of their sights, because as they both flank your sides, your pretty face nuzzling to their warmth, body seeking their protection, they wrap their arms around you securely it wasn’t just their bodies that were satiated, there was a warmth flowing through their chests and consuming their rationality above all.
My god— cannot wait to read more would you please tag me in the next parts?
Summary: When you’ve reached your wits end with your husband, you decide to make a deal with Death to get rid of him.
Warning: public sex, mentions of death, mentions of domestic violence and bruises, manipulation, public nudity, dom/sub dynamics, rough actions, explicit language and sexual content.
A/N: I don’t have anything to say for myself about this one, it is purely a self indulgent piece and it was plaguing me, especially after I saw this picture at the bottom. I’m not sure the origin of it, so if anyone knows, please let me know so I can credit them. Thanks to @sweeterthanthis for fueling my thoughts as always and to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog for looking this over for me❤️ All mistakes are still my own!
if you’re a minor, please DNI!
Please do not repost, publish or translate my work. Reblogs and comments are appreciated! Thank you for reading :)
The slip they given you to change into for your audience with Death, barely covered anything, the lace trim brushing against your mid-thigh. You rubbed your bare arms as you followed the buff guards down the dark hall way. Every direction you looked was pitch black, adding to the dread building in your stomach. A shiver crawled up your spine at the thought of what might be lurking beneath the darkness.
You were second guessing your decision to seek out Death. A bargain that you couldn’t come back from. How big of a sacrifice would he ask for? Would it be worth it? Yes . A 100% yes. You’d do anything not to go back to your husband and you knew this was the only way to truly be free.
Warning: Soft!dark Bucky Barnes, Yandere!Bucky Barnes, size kink? Bad words? If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
Summary: How could you, the one he had been bickering with for the past months, be so small? How could he not protect someone as small as you? orBasically, a fic where Bucky saw you in person for the first time and proclaimed himself as your protector..and man.
A/N:hola!!!! I come again bearing a gift to you for my 600 followers celebration! IDK if this is considered as a long one-shot, but alas, please enjoy my loves!!!
“Left!” you shouted over the microphone, your eyes following the dot on the screen where he was heading- right towards the enemy, right to the opposite direction that you pointed at him, “I said left, you idiot!” you hissed. Eight men were awaiting him right around the corner, but he was moving as if he was goading you, as if your irritation at him elated him to no extent. This sadistic as fuck bastard.
“I swear once you get back I will report your ass!” you promised him as your fingers tapped away on your keyboard, sending him reinforcements. You alerted Sam that his adopted friend was being an idiot once again, making your job more difficult than it already was. It was your job to take care of the logistics, to make sure that these agents, no matter how strong they were, would get to do their jobs without injuries, or if you were lucky, with minimal scratches.
