#Devil Bucky Barnes

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

The Club AU

A collection of drabbles that intersect at the same club.

THE DUFF (Curtis Everett, Snowpiercer)

NIGHTLIFE (Lee Bodecker, The Devil All the Time)

WASTED (Bucky Barnes, MCU)

SNAKE EYES (Loki, MCU)

MISE EN PLACE (Thor, MCU)

BLACK LIGHT (August Walker, Mission Impossible)

CAUSE OF ACTION (Andy Barber, Defending Jacob)

CARPE NOCTEM (Lloyd Hansen, The Gray Man)

BAD REPUTATION (Frank Castle, The Punisher)

UP ALL NIGHT (Ransom Drysdale, Knives Out)

IF YOU CAN’T DANCE (Jonathan Pine, The Night Manager)

HANGOVER (Johnny Storm, Fantastic Four)

TREAT YOU (Peter Parker, MCU)

NIGHT MOVES (Nick Fowler, The 355)

AT FIRST SIGHT (Captain Syverson, Sand Castle)

YOU MAKE ME WANNA (Walter Marshall, Night Hunter)

MEMBERS ONLY (Tommy Shelby, Peaky Blinders)

[moonstruksandco]

⋆｡devil i know 𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

PROLOGUE ; PLAYING GOD

pairing : mob!stucky x mob!reader

summary : your father risked his life for somebody else, now you have to work for him and his best friend

warnings : eventual smut (hehehehe) ; soft mean bucky (meaner reader) and steve ; hard headed reader with a violence problem ; meaner bucky, colder steve ; classism ; daddy issues ; hella violence ; fem!reader ; trailerpark!reader

a/n : yeeaaaaaaaaaaaaa i'm sort of out of my mind writing this, cuz i have a an unfinished tvd chap in drafts but i couldn't help myself, the daydreams went CRAZZYYYYY and I miss infinity war steve and cap and winter soilder look! this is dedicated to my sun ; reblogs and feedback are loved and appreciated

Its ridiculous

And you think you don’t care.

Well.

Its hard to ease into it, but you still know you should.

He sacrificed himself for someone else.

Took a bullet for someone else.

Someone that was never going to be you.

And now, he’s in front of you.

Not the one striving for his life, the one who got to live.

You know this life well. And you thrive on it. Born to fight, raised to live.

But never for him.

“He told me to watch over you,” He says with his golden hair and beard, looking at you seriously.

His eyes are too blue.

His office, or what he chooses to show face in, is cold. Everything is white or beige. Big open windows behind him, desk and monitor shining on his face.

“So…I have to work? For you. That were his last words?” Before he became a vegetable, you don’t say.

You’re clad in attire that almost didn’t even get you into his floor. Theres an oversized leather jacket draped over the chair next to you, denim skirt, groza strapped right underneath (and another in said jacket), white tank and low top sneakers ;because its blazing outside, obviously. Sweat still sticking, mind the very ventilated room.

You think back;

“I’m just here to see Steve Rogers,” you say to the point of exhaustion to the receptionist - secretary whatever.

You think if she was more gentle and nice about it, you would’ve given her grace. But she wasn’t, and hasn’t.

“Yes, but I told you I’ve spoken to him on the phone, and I’ve shown you the number that I could see you obviously recognized, plus the text he sent to come at this time.”

She rolls her eyes.

You decide you’re going to maim her.

“I’ve heard this all before,” She responds in a bored tone, “If you’re not on the sched-”

You’re beginning to pull out the dagger under your skirt.

A hand stops you.

“She’s fine. Let us up.”

You immediately pull on his wrist in retaliation. You think you’re about to break it, but he meets yours eyes.

Eyes to blue. But ones you don’t recognize.

And he stands by Steve now, hands clasped on his front.

You think he said he said his name was Bucky in the silent elevator.

He continues, “I’m not going to take whats owed to yo-”

“Well, he wanted you to, no?” you finish.

You cross your arms, leaning back slightly in the chair. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Steve sighs, look away from you, then back to you. “We need you to keep doing what you do best. But this time, for a cause that matters.”

“And that cause is…?” You sit up, confusion evident.

He stalls, as if confused. “You’re father.”

You slack by down, not amused and definitely not interesting

Steve continues, “Just pretend to be my assistant, do what you do best for him, and I’ll protect you.”

You laugh, a short, bitter sound that echoes in the sterile room. "Protect me?” He must be joking.”I think I’ll be fine without it.”

“You know who your father is, right?”

Your face morph into something close to irration.

Its not Steve, its the other blue eyes, and you look straight into his eyes, Bucky you think, “Did I stutter?”

The tension in the room thickens, Steve interjects, placing his palm up to interrupt whatever his (Bucky?) rebuttal was, “This isn’t just about you. It’s about preventing something bigger.”

Your eyes leave a pair of blues, to meet another;

Steve continues, “No one knows what happened. If they know the state he’s in, or even wher-”

“So what? I play assistant

“Exactly.” His shadow says.

You don’t like Bucky.

“You already have one. The bitchy one.”

Steve sighs, “You’re just a cover. You’ll be doing the real work.”

You lean back again, contemplating. "Fine. But if this goes south, I'm out," you say, standing up grabbing your coat.

Steve nods, "Understood,” He stands up when you do respectfully. We start tomorrow."

You scoff again opening the door to exit, “We start next Monday.”

The door closes behind you with a soft click, leaving Steve and Bucky in a tense silence.

Bucky turns to Steve, "Are you sure about this?"

Steve nods, "She was his right hand” He looks back at the seat you were sat on.”No ones going to do it as best as her.”

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

working on chap 2 ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎

[renif]

bucky doodles also i've been listening to the amazing devil and pray is so bucky and steve coded oh my god,

"God made all man in his image (God made all men) Honey, I'm, I'm no man I'm what's left when children go to war Run from you, I'll run until I begin to understand (run from you, understand) What holy men really mean" like you can't just drop something like that and expect me to be normal

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pretty Petals 26

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content including rape/noncon, kidnapping, violence, sexual acts (fingering, oral, anal, dp), coercion, bondage, and more tags to be added as the series progresses. PREPARE YOUR PANTIES, HOES.

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: You go on a self-improvement retreat, but not all is as it seems.

Girls and Flower Name List HERE!

Characters: Ransom Drysdale, Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker, Curtis Everett, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Loki, Andy Barber, Hela, and multiple OFCs

Note: double chapter day!

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. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all like birds love to appear everytime you are near. Take care. 💖

“It was so lovely to come see you all, to see how you’ve grown,” Hela preens as she stands at the head of the table. “Immaculate, every one of you.” 

Dahlia pokes her cheek with her tongue and Bucky snatches the fork she twirls in her hand. He knows her well. Maybe he even fears he’s at the mercy of the tines.  

You turn your attention back to your matron of dishonour. Her black bob is wavy and her skin freckled from the sun. She’s beautiful for someone so wretched. You can’t help but wonder if you’re the only ones. You know you can’t be the first. It’s all too orderly, too planned, too perfect. 

“Do make me proud, petals,” she claps her hands together and her pretty lips curl, “I may just return at Christmas with some gifts, eh?” 

Christmas. It’s still a ways off but the fall is setting in. The summer is in its last dregs and you find yourself shivering in the morning as the night cools. Not a single voice rises to answer her farewell. You all just stare, rather glare, at her. 

“Well, then, I’ll be off.” 

“Sister, I’ll show you the door,” Loki rises and beckons her away from the table, “I must thank you for coming so quickly and bringing a fresh stem...” 

His voice trails off and you glance over at Zinnia, sitting by his empty seat. She mashes down her eggs with the back of a spoon. The other girls keep there hands away from their plates. You don’t have much of an appetite yourself. 

“Boring,” Lloyd says suddenly. “How about we do something fun?” 

The other men seemed agitated by his suggestion. Strange how they seem to share the same malaise. Ransom’s arm drapes over the back of your chair, Curtis has Violet in his lap, Lee keeps jabbing Marigold and whispering at her. Your eyes meet Steve’s as he watches you in turn. You quickly look away. 

“I’ll clear the table,” you offer as you stand and lift your plate. 

“Ugh, boring,” Lloyd spits again, “Christ on a dildo, why are we sitting here playing Brady Bunch? Let’s get fucking wild.” 

“Shut up,” Bucky growls as Dahlia rubs her faded bruises. 

“Oh, shit, you know, I got the perfect fucking game, girls, follow Lily’s lead and clear the table.” 

The mustachioed man stands and breezes away. The other women look at each other. You nudge Azalea and she stands with her head down. She takes her plate and Lloyd’s. The other girls follow in a long train to the kitchen. Andy gets up to follow, keeping watch as you cluster together to divvy up the leftovers into containers. 

You hate to agree but it is dull as hell. You finish stacking up the dirty plates but none of you are eager to go back into the dining room. Only bad things happen there. The games they play aren’t much fun for you. 

“Go,” Andy demands. 

Dahlia goes out first, angling her head back and forth defiantly. Zinnia follows after her, Daisy, Rose, Violet shuffles noisily and clings to Azalea’s hand as she drags her, then you, and finally Marigold. As you come out, Lloyd stands in front of his seat, jiggling a pair of dice in his hands. 

The other men share your level of enthusiasm. Bucky’s arms are crossed, Ransom yawns, Lee rubs his belly, Curtis picks his thumbnail, Loki untangles a shank of his long dark coils, and Steve peers over his shoulder to stare at you. You don’t like that. 

“Right, simple rules, guys,” Lloyd rattles the large pair of plastic dice, “choose a girl, roll the dice, and let fate decide. I’ll go first since it was my idea.” 

You nearly let out a groan. You’re so tired. Ransom points you next to him and you sit. The others follow suit. Andy stands behind his chair and watches as Lloyd tosses the dice. 

You notice the imprinted images on the sides of the cubes. Various positions and words. You hold your breath and sense the rest of the room doing the same. 

“Hey, Zinnia,” Lloyd calls as the dice bounce over the wood, “how about we get acquainted?” 

The plastic cubes still and shows a man with his head between a woman’s legs as she sits on a chair. The other dice reads, ‘until orgasm.’ 

Zinnia whimpers and Loki sniffs. He stands and drags her chair away from the table. She grips the sides to keep from sliding off. He veers her around to face Lloyd as he struts behind the other seats. He snickers as he drags his hand over his mouth. 

“Come on, let me see the kitty, just wanna give her a pet,” he gets down to his knees and Loki catches Zinnia’s shoulders before she can sit up. She writhes helplessly as Lloyd’s hands crawl up her thighs. He tickles the front of her panties and glances over, “hey don’t let me have all the fun, unless you wanna watch.” 

There’s a moment of indecision. Then Steve reaches across the table and scoops up the dice. He examines each then cradles them in his large hand. Zinnia’s murmurs underline the lull as Lloyd growls deeply, his mouth making unsettling noises. 

“Lily, how’s it we’ve never had any fun?” He asks and tosses them. They only roll a short way before stilling. 

You stare at the top of the first dice. A couple in doggystyle. You clamp your lips and try not to shudder. You glance over at Dahlia and she shakes her head. The other girls slump and shrink, knowing their own turn is imminent. 

The second dice makes you blanch as it lands flat; ‘backdoor’. 

“Perfect,” Steve growls, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll be nice.” 

He stands, pushing out his chair and waving towards the seat, “get on your knees, I’ll be right back.” 

“The fuck, Steve,” Ransom sneers. 

“We’ll trade,” Steve offers. 

“Mm, thanks but I think I’ll try something new. How about you, Statue of Liberty?” He looks at ass, “you think you can stay awake for some good dick?” 

You get up as Ransom swipes up the dice. This is humiliating. It’s one thing to be dragged off behind closed doors but these men are as good as starting an orgy. For what? Because they’re bored? 

Steve helps you onto the chair. You brace the back as you sit on your knees, shaking. You don’t know if you can handle this. He rubs your shoulder, gripping it hard enough for the tendon to tweak. You wince and he lets go as he walks away. You watch after him as Azalea starts to snivel. 

You look over as Lloyd keeps his face buried between Zinnia’s legs, his hand on her tits as he devours her. She puffs and pouts and squirm as Loki pets her cheek and coos. Ugh, god! You can’t keep doing this.  

For now, you have to. You have to bide your time. You have to get rid of these necklaces and those damn cameras. You have to wait for these men to turn their fangs on each other instead of you. 

Steve comes back as Dahlia’s snarl rolls through the air. There’s a struggle behind you on the floor you can’t see. Andy’s no longer by the kitchen door. It must be him. His voice confirms it as he calls for Rose too. 

Shit. The chaos breaks out quickly. Steve startles you as he squirts a slick flow between your cheeks. You squeak as he pushes his fingers along your ass as rubs your tight hole. He clicks shut the bottle of lube and reaches to put it on the table. 

He grips the back of your neck and forces your head straight. You his and latch tightly to the chair. You sit on your heels as he bends against you, contorting so he’s flush to your back. He pushes his head next to yours and growls. 

He rescinds his touch for just a moment as he jostles around. His brings his firm tip up along your cheeks and presses against your ring. You babble and reach back to press on his hip. 

“Please, no--” 

He loops his hand around the front of your neck and chokes your voice away. You gasp and wheeze as he pushes into you. He stretches your ass just around his tip, just enough for your to let out a whistle through your tight throat. Ow. Oh shit.  

He rocks and dips a little further inside. Your eyes prick and you shake your head, grinding your teeth as you quake. He thrusts again, deeper. Several more times, sinking in as your insides burn. Even the lube can’t help the resistance of your body. 

He brings his other hand to your throat, crisscrossing his fingers in front of it as he forces your head up and back. Your spine arches as his pelvis claps against your ass and he grunts. The chair rocks with his motion, teetering dangerously as your tears stream down your cheeks. 

The pain is blinding. Your eyes roll back as you puff out shallow breaths through the constriction of your throat. He snaps his hips harshly and you spasm. Again, again, again. Each time crueler than the last. 

Steve shifts his feet and moves closer again. He bucks into you so that the agony radiates from your core. You would sob if your could breath. He adjusts his hands, wrapping them full around your neck. Your lashes flutter as your vision speckles with black dots. 

“Steve, take it easy--” you hear someone warn but you can’t make out their timbre. 

“Hey, whoa, slow down. She’s--” 

Your tongue lolls out as all the air traps in your chest. The heat in your lungs is as fiery as that in your ass. The slap of flesh and the cracking force mingles with the swirling in your head. Your eyelids close of their own volition as all resistance gives out and your body goes limp. The world fades though the pain remains. 

🌸

“You could’ve fucking killed her,” A snarl seeps into your ears, making them itchy. “What the fuck are you thinking?” 

“Whatever. We can get another--” 

“Fuck off. The new one’s already pissing me off,” Bucky’s deeper tone breaks through the veil over you. 

“Like you even like the one you got--” 

“Lily,” another voice drifts in and your eyelids part, your vision hazy as Dahlia’s blurry figure sits over you. 

“Keep it down,” Lloyd sneers, “some of us are trying to eat.” 

“Don’t be a jackass,” Andy barks as he stands behind Dahlia, looming over you both, “if we lose another one, maybe you should just sacrifice the tall one.” 

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic. He was getting kinky--” 

“She’s awake,” Steve looks over at you, his pants still undone but his dick tucked away. 

“Fucking lucky,” Ransom shoves him and sidles through. “Lily pad, you okay down there?” 

You blink at him as Azalea sways nearby, twisting her hand around her finger. You look at the faces you can make out and Dahlia helps you sit up. You nod and rub your temples, wincing as your ass throbs. Oh, yeah... 

“Come on,” Ransom bends over you and hauls you up, “someone send that douchebag to his room.” 

“Who put you in charge?” Steve growls, “not my fault she can’t take it. Maybe you’re getting soft.” 

“Some of us don’t wanna fuck a corpse,” Ransom retorts as he wraps an arm around your back and lifts you. 

“I’m sure you do so much work, pillow princess,” Lloyd cackles from his knees. He has three fingers inside of Zinnia as she continues to squirm and squeal. 

Ransom huffs and carries on past the others. You lean your head against him, blocking out the rest of the room with his body. You can’t look. It hurts even more to see the rest suffer. 

He takes you into your room and elbows the door shut with a quick jerk of his body. He tuts and put you on the bed. You can’t help but curl up, hugging your legs as the ache pulses from within. 

You’re groggy with the aftermath of Steve’s strong hold. You rub your cheek, trying to get some sense back. Ransom paces, a hand on his hip, the other opening and closing in silent monologue. He’s uptight. You haven’t seen him like this. 

“I told him to stop. Fucker. Can’t fucking listen to save his life,” he snarls and stops, facing you as he stomps. “You heard me tell him to quit.” 

You bat your lashes and nod. Slowly, you muster your strength to sit up. You wince as you do. You stay balled up small as Ransom pushes his chin up and heaves once more. You consider him and his frustration; the words from before. How the men constantly battle for control, not just with you but each other. 

“He should listen,” you croak, coughing and rubbing your throat, “they should all listen to you.” 

He lowers his head and looks at you with an arch in his brow. 

“Sir, I’m sorry,” you drop your shoulders. 

“No, what are you saying?” He narrows his eyes. 

“It’s only... Maybe... if you’d been upstairs, you could’ve saved Iris. And... and if they’d all just listen it wouldn’t all be a mess. You always tell them not to... not to go so far,” you temper your words as you speak them, uncertain and yet you think that makes them seem more genuine. “They don’t listen. First Curtis with Violet, now this.” 

You chew your lip as he stares. Your heart pounds in your chest. Does he know what you’re doing? You’ve never been a very good liar. 

“They’re all breaking the rules but didn’t you all agree to them?” 

He comes forward and you fight not to cower away. He reaches for you and you expect a slap or a grope or jab. Instead he strokes your cheek and bends to meet your gaze. He looks you in the face, his blue eyes searching. 

“You know what, lily pad, you’re right,” he sits lightly on the edge of the bed and draws you close. “that’s why I like you. ‘Cause you know better. You listen.” 

He shifts and lays on his side, pulling you with him. You let him. You put your hand on his chest and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“You’re... you’re the only one who doesn’t hurt me,” you say. 

He hums and sucks his teeth, “I know, lily pad.” He exhales and closes his eyes, “this can’t go on. I gotta get these guys in check.” 

You nod and nestle closer. Not because he makes you feel safe. Not because you meant any of it. Because it makes him think you do. That sliver of doubt is under his skin, it will only continue to poke until he has to rip it out. 

[sstan-hoe]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒔 𝑫𝒆𝒏

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — all you wanted was to go on vacation but your car didn't have the same idea. Almost breaking down in the middle of nowhere you luckily made it to a house with lights. A handsome stranger and his friends offer to help you. They're devilishly handsome…or almost demon like? Something about them entrances you.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — fem!reader × incubus!andy barber/bucky barnes/steve kemp/steve rogers/nick fowler/ari levinson/ransom drysdale/lloyd hansen

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — SMUT, Minors dni, violence -> more specific things in the fic

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — reblog and comment | depending on how good the series is coming on I will continue or stop

I do have a taglist however it has conditions that must be followed — you can follow @sstanhoe-updates for updated without anything

-> you can send in blurb/drabble requests or/and asks regarding the series!

♫︎ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝗂. 𝖸𝖾𝖺𝗁, 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖡𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝖣𝗈𝗐𝗇

𝗂𝗂. 𝖨 𝖬𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖡𝖾 𝖣𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀

𝗂𝗂𝗂. 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖱𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖢𝗈𝗈𝗅

𝗂𝗏. 𝖢𝗎𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝖡𝖾𝖺𝗋

𝗏. 𝖯𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗈𝗄

𝗏𝗂. 𝖢𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖶𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁

𝗏𝗂𝗂. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖢𝖺𝗇 𝖦𝖾𝗍 𝖠 𝖣𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾

𝗏𝗂𝗂𝗂. 𝖳𝗈𝗈 𝖬𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖬𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒 𝖡𝗈𝗒

𝗂𝗑. 𝖠 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝖳𝗈 𝖥𝗎𝖼𝗄

𝗑. 𝖦𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖡𝗈𝗒?

𝗑𝗂. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽

𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐏𝐀𝐃

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒/𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘 — linked to tags

𝗆𝗈𝗈𝖽𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽

𝗎𝗉𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌

𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌/𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇

[georgiapeach30513]

The Devil in His Eyes Masterlist

You had enough. You were finally finished. But this isn’t what you meant. You were just tired of your cheating abusive husband. But how did he end up dead? And how did you end up in a different nightmare and behind bars with his friend watching your every move. Waiting. Preying. Going from one hell to another. Or so you thought.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

A/N: this story will have themes of murder, missing memories, abusive marriage, infidelity, being taken advantage of, prison, abuse of power, manipulation, conspiracy, read all warnings before each part. Minors DNI

[shamrockqueen]

Pink demon

Pairing : (Pretty in pink series) Hot Neighbor Bucky x Reader

Warnings : R18, oral, smut, slutty costumes, P*rn with a little bit of Plot, licking up cum

Word count : 2853

AO3 link

Kinktober List

Pretty in pink Masterlist

You slid one corner of the heavy cape over your shoulder, taking one last moment to admire the pretty pink latex of your strappy costume. You drop the thick fabric back over top of it so that your little trick can be properly concealed before heading towards the front door.

You’ve made a gamble like this before, but with the loss of home field advantage, the stakes seemed a little higher this time around. But, after the payoff you received last time, you just couldn't resist using the anty.

You readjusted your little plastic devil's horns so that they sat perfectly straight on top of your head, all before grabbing your trick-or-treating bucket and heading for the door.

It was far too late for any trick-or-treaters to still be wandering around, leaving a dark and empty street ahead of you as you turned off your own lights and left your house. You looked out at the nice neighborhood, searching out the still-lit home of your quiet neighbor. His porch lights were off, but the main light in the living room was still bright as ever.

Your heels, also concealed by the silky cloak, clacked along the pavement as you made the journey down the street. The twinkling of the little orange pumpkin lights strung over his porch came into view as you approached his brick steps.

You were a little surprised that he even decorated, as it didn’t seem like him to shop for plastic Jack o'lanterns. Yet as you looked at the goofy decorations, it made him seem all the more sweet to have put in the effort.

After getting up the two steps, you finally made it to the door, pressing the button for the doorbell and fussing with your horns as you waited for the *Ding-Dong* to be answered.

You heard his footsteps before the door came open. He had a large bowl of candy tucked under one arm and a look of surprise lighting up his face.

“Uh, hi. Long time, no see.” He spoke with amusement as he eyed the bright pink devil horns atop your head in contrast to the dark cloth draped over your little body. “What brings you by at this hour?”

“Trick or treat.” You said it with a wide smile as you pulled your hands from under your coat to not only reveal your plastic pumpkin basket but your pink straps and bare skin as well.

The bucket of candy nearly slipped out from under his arm as his eyes widened at the sight of you. In the next second, after tossing the bowl to a side table, he reaches out for your arm to quickly drag you into the house, nearly slamming the door closed behind you.

“What are you doing walking around in something like that?” His tone was more amusing than scolding as he continued to take in what little the cape had revealed so far.

“What, this?” You slipped your fingers under the edge of the cape and slid it over your shoulder so that every strap and zipper were available to be taken in by his hungry eyes.

It was almost too easy. “It’s my costume.”

He was almost choking on any of the words he was trying to get out. His hands move instead, hitting the lock in the door and switching off the main light to signal that the house is done passing out candy.

When he steps closer to you, it’s slower, almost like a predator backing its small prey into a darkened corner. His fingers reach up to untie the little bow of ribbon that held the cape together, letting it fall down your body to pool at your feet.

“You walked all the way here, dressed like this?” His voice sounded so heavy and low that you nearly felt the purr of it in your own chest as it bumped against yours. His heavy steps echoed through the room as he backed you towards the nearest wall.

You don’t answer back, not being able to handle his reaction to taking such a left turn. Your shoes nearly tangle in the cape as you're made to move.

“What if someone saw you? Do you have any idea what someone might do to you if they saw this?” He ends his one-sided question with a rough tug at the little zipper that kept the bottom piece of your costume together.

You couldn’t help the little gasp that puffed past your lips before you tried to regain your composure. You didn’t want to lose the upper hand just yet.

You slowly reached out to drag your nails from the collar of his shirt and down the plains of his chest until they met the hem of his jeans.

“Is it anything like what you want to do to me now?” You spoke as you batted your lashes and dug your fingers between the denim and his skin.

He gritted his teeth together once your palm met his pubic bone and your nimble digits circled around his hidden shaft.

He almost growled in response as he pressed himself hard against your hand.

“Oh, Doll. You have no idea. I mean, look at you.” He tilted his head until it tapped yours, just to get a better view of your precious little costume.

“You came all the way to my house, dressed like this.” His own fingers reached up to tug at one of the little straps at your waist and let it go to snap back against your skin.

“Ouch…Don’t you like it?” You give him a shy little pout as he huffs and puffs above you.

“I do.” It was spoken lowly as his eyes slipped back up your body to meet yours.

His hand comes up to tuck a finger under your chin, pushing your head up so that your lips meet his for a small but slow kiss.

His mouth slides over yours, his tongue dipping against your bottom lip before he slides it between his teeth.

He has you easily distracted, giving him room to slide his hands from the sides of your neck and over the little straps of your top. His fingers graze the soft skin of your tummy before his arms circle your waist. You were still too mesmerized by the flick and prod of his tongue along yours as his mouth engulfed you to stop him as his arms tightened around your body.

He pulled you from the wall and swung your body toward the edge of the nearby sofa. Your shoes buckled as your bottom hit the armrest, and your body teetered over to hit his cushy navy-colored pillows. You couldn’t help the giggles that erupted from your belly, nor could he help but give a sly smile as he stepped towards you to cover your body with his.

He was met instead with your hands pressing to his chest to push him back up and off of you, still chuckling as you teased him. “Hey, where’s my candy, mister?"

He stood back with an amused huff. It takes so much out of him not to just attack you right now, fingers digging hard into his own apullstry as he looks down at your teasy little pout. He could swear that if he saw you pop out your bottom lip one more time, he was going to bite it again. “Are you serious?"

"I said trick or treat; now where's my candy?" You punctuate the last word by pressing the hard platform of your heel against his chest to keep him from trying to devour you any further. You wanted to be reckless and push him just that extra inch to knock him over the edge.

"You little brat."

He still had half a bowl of treats left in the bowl he’d discarded onto the side table, so he took a sharp breath before speaking again: “You want candy? Oh, I’ll get you some damn candy.”

He tore himself away to haughtily dig through the bowl, grabbing a wide lollipop before bringing the plastic wrapper to his mouth and tearing it away with his teeth. It was bright green with a bit of chewy caramel at the top to mimic a candy apple. He leans back over you to bring the loli to your sweet pink lips, growling out a single word.

“Lick!”

You didn’t have to be told twice while flicking your wet tongue along the hard candy. The taste of a sour green apple nearly stings the tip of your tongue until it reaches the sweet caramel top.

“What do you say, Doll?” The words rumbled from his chest to vibrate into the air as he stared down at you like some easy but elusive prey.

“Mm, thank you.” You say this as you drag your mouth along the lolli before leaning up to take it fully into your mouth to give it a good suck.

“Now where we’re we, until you so bratily interrupted me.” He gritted out a tight, hungry smile as his fingers left the little plastic stick at the end of your sour, sweet candy apple prize. He wouldn’t be made to wait any longer. It had been so long since he had last seen you, often making him sweat and bite at his knuckles at the memory of your tight little pussy wrapped so deliciously around his cock. He’d have to watch you walk around your yard in your sweet girly skirts as they grazed the top of your thighs; any higher, and you’d be flashing the neighborhood your lacy delicates.

No, you’ve made him wait far too long. This time you came to him, wrapped up in slutty pink ribbons like the little devil you were, and he was going to sink his teeth right in. He looks down at your latex panties, flicking the little zipper over your mound before taking it between his thumb and pointer fingers. He dropped to his knees and leaned in to take the side of the fabric between his teeth before pulling the zipper down to expose your dewy pink petals to the cool evening air.

You were already slick, no doubt excited by your own naughty little display. Yet, you pretended to pay him no mind as you sucked at the lolli. It only worked to make him want to tease you further as he dragged his lips along your mound until they met your sweet folds. He’s slipping his tongue through them, dipping it into your core to lap at your sweet nectar.

You tried to fight the tingling tickle of his wet muscle as it pried you open to dip deep into your quivering pink channel. You bit down on the candy as you held in a shaky gasp and tried not to squirm around beneath him.

“You think you can hold it, princess? I’ll make you cream on my face. Make these knees shake through the whole night.” He didn’t mind your resolve for now; it would be just another challenge he would easily crush.

He dragged his teeth over your sensitive bud, finally pushing a weak little whine past your lips as his tongue slid over that magic pearl to circle it with the tip.

“Bucky!” Your voice quaked as the lolli cracked under the pressure of your bite. Your body is keening and bowing, subconsciously pushing your pussy against his busy lips.

He ate you raw until the little plastic stick fell from between your lips as you struggled to swallow the sweet-sour candy mixture. Then you were his, huffing and harping out little gasps and cries, gushing out onto his tongue as he delved into your fluttering cunt. You’d nearly reached that peak when he finally pulled away, leaving you to whine at the loss.

He wiped the excess slick from his lips with the back of his hand before quickly crawling over your shaking body. He falls his hands into fists, pressing them into the cushions beside your hips and head.

“Don’t be like that. If I’m gonna make you cum, then it’s gonna be wrapped around my cock.” He nipped at your wobbly bottom lip before sliding his mouth over yours, snaking his tongue past your teeth to lap at the sour-sweet flavor within and mixing it with the taste of your sloppy cunt as it still lingered on his lips.

He pulled away from you with a messy pop, leaning up just enough to dig the button on his jeans out of its loop and dragging its zipper down. He pressed his hand into the open denim, pulling his hardened member into his fist to drag it out to press against you.

It was hard enough that it nearly curved, and you watched as he gave himself a long test pump and nearly drooled at the sight of a drop of cloudy precum pearling out at the tip before dripping onto your bare mound.

He looked up at your gawking face and chuckled as he aligned himself with the messy opening of your sweet pink pussy. Like the hard press of his knuckles into the upholstery below, his movements were harsh but slow. He breached your tender core with one long, hard, agonizing thrust. You were plenty wet after the way you had made a mess on his tongue, so he could just slide himself in until his balls pressed to your ass and the head of his cock twitched against the deepest part of your cunt.

“Ah..fuck..I missed this.” He growled down at you as he dragged his hips back, unsheathing himself from you and letting the head of his cock pull through your trembling body.

“You don’t visit me enough, doll. I swear.”

“Mm..sorry,” you could barely think as he pushed back inside, savoring the feel of you throbbing around him as he leaned down to press his forehead to yours. You can hardly hold onto where your nails had dug into the sofa as he drove himself in and out of your tight channel. Pushing little gasps out of your belly.

When he reached down to grip your knees, pushing them up near your chest and driving himself in and out of you as he did. It nearly made you choke on the building drool behind your tongue. “Ah”

The smack of his pelvis meeting your thighs echoed through the dark room as he growled out into the hair. “FuUck, y-you better not keep me waiting this long again! Ah-I fuckin mean it, princess!"

You couldn’t respond with anything other than a series of sharp squeals as he forced the air from your lungs with each thrust into you. He just continued to smash at the tightly winding spring in the pit of your belly until it twisted hard enough that it finally snapped.

You bit down on the knuckle of your finger as you gushed around his cock. Your sore pussy clamped around him as he drove the climax through every bone in your body, leaving you a shaking mess beneath him.

The deep timber of his voice rang through the air to mix with your little cries as he chased after his own end. You were so tight and perfect that it would be too much, and with some better judgment, he pulled away right as he knew he’d start to spill.

He squeezed the head of his cock in his fist as his hips spasmed above you, and his seed finally spurted out onto his palm.

You have a small disappointment whine as you watch a bit of his cum drip from his fingers. What a waste.

“Don’t pout. We got lucky last time, but we don’t want to have any accidents; now do we, Doll?”

You barely hear him, still lost in your own little afterglow, as you push yourself up and take one of his sticky fingers between your lips. You give his digit a hard suck before pulling away to flick your tongue over his palm and lap up his seed.

“Oh, shit..you like that? Just licking up my cum, you little slut?” You chuckled deeply as he ran his clean hand through your messy hair.

You give a little nod and a mumbled “mhm” before he pulls your head away by the back of your hair, making the little pink plastic horns fall from your head.

The night was far from over as he turned you into his sweet pink fuckdoll until the sun rose through the windows of his living room. Even then, he was hesitant to let you go, but when the time came, he offered you a change of clothes to cover your sullied costume. Making it a little easier to walk home in the light of day.

Now, dressed in a baggy t-shirt, sweatpants, and your clunky heels, you bid him goodbye.

You say it sweetly as you lean in on your tippy toes for one last kiss, whispering, “Until next time, Mr. Barnes.”

He meets your little peck before answering with “I’ll be waiting.”

[esotericgalaxy]

This man can rupture my

esophagus🤪🥴😫💕

[erinptah]

"If you want to take them, you'll have to go through us."

Art for the big finale of Here's What You Missed.

[abbatoirablaze]

Deal With The Devil Master List

The five boroughs in New York City are run by the five families.

Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Thor Odinson, Clint Barton, and the most dangerous of all, Steve Rogers.

But that's just where the story begins.

With Steve Rogers. The loud-mouthed kid who's charming, witty, and beyond manipulative.

He knows just how to get what he wants. And after hearing about the newest reason that the boroughs are up in arms, he wants his cut.

Inez Stark.

No one knew that Tony had a younger sister, That is, not until someone from his inner circle let it slip.

Peter's out, because he's Pepper's cousin.

And with Steve, Thor, and Clint all vying for the chance to get into the alliance between Peter and Tony, they all want her hand in marriage.

Only, Tony knows that.

He also knows that he can't protect his baby sister anymore. He has to make a deal with the devil.

Too bad Steve's number 2, Bucky Barnes fell in love with her first.

Chapters

The Hobbit

Negotiations

Expectations

Fiances

The Bachelor Party

Like A Dog

What Family Is For

Know Your Place

Blindfolded

Cuck

The Meaning Behind 'I Do'

Sex On The Beach, And Blitzed On A Binge

Say You Will

Please Stay

[serzhantkris]

Dance with the Devil- 9

Summary: When a new threat turns into something much bigger, Matt Murdock finds help in the form of a woman with a very different moral code, and struggles to choose between himself and the Devil. Matt Murdock x Reader // Past!Winter Soldier x Reader

Masterlist

Taglist Open.

Word count: 2141

Author's Note: So, I got stuck on how I wanted this chapter to go, but I finally powered through it and made some decisions, so I'm going to go ahead and move forward. I know it's been a while since I updated, like, any of my stories, but I want to make more of an effort to getting back to writing. The taglist for this story IS OPEN, but I will be cleaning out before too long so if you are already getting tagged and still wish to be, or if you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know (DMs, Asks, comments, reblogs, however, I promise I'll see it)

Then

Blood drips steadily on the concrete. A leaky tap, it runs smoothly down your nose in tiny beads and splatters against the smooth surface. Erupting in little splotches, it leaves stains between where your shaking hands hold your weight off the ground. You stare at the bubbles of red, blinking the sweat out of your eyes. Some little girls find shapes in clouds: horses and faces and castles dancing across the sky. All you see is red splotches that might be knives and guns and rage burned into the floor. 

“Vstavat’.”

Blood rolls down the inside of your nose, kissing you as it rolls off your top lip. When it lands, it becomes a Cheburkov. 

“Seychas.”

Your arms are heavy as you push off the ground, feet finding purchase beneath you. Your boot slides against the ground, smearing the still wet blood as you rise to full height. There’s a cut on your knee that’s made its own bloody art on another patch of concrete, and your bruised knuckles ache when you’re finally standing and flexing your fingers. 

The Madame looks down her nose at you, predatory eyes scrutinizing your form as you wait for your next instruction. She was all sharp, jagged edges, and when she jerks her chin to the side, her chin is as threatening as a knife. You step aside, following her silent direction, and put yourself out of her line of sight. She stalks forward to the center of the room, eyeing your handiwork. The dull, lifeless thing at her feet had a name, but she prods at it with a toe and tuts under her breath as she gestures for the men to clean it up like she’s more disappointed about the bloodstains than the dead body. 

She turns back towards you while they’re dragging it out, her lips pressed in a fine line as she beckons you over. When you’re close, she reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“You are ready,” she says, in English, her accent thick as her tongue presses against her teeth. To the men, she says, “Bring him in.”

She turns back to you as the metal doors slide open, the shrieking of metal pounding against the inside of your skull. “You have proven yourself, little ptitsa,” she continues, placing her hand at the small of your back and guiding you towards the door. “Now that we have selected which girls will continue with the program-“ her voice is as sharp as her face, drawing the words out slowly, the meaning of her words not lost on you- “It is time you advanced in your training. And, lucky you, you will be the first to meet our new instructor. He’s, how you say, ‘on loan,’ from our friends at Hydra.”

The footsteps are heavy as a broad, imposing figure steps out of the darkness through the doors. He’s clad in tactical gear, heavy black boots stopping him just steps inside the door. A black vest constricts his torso, buckling over his chest to hold several knives against his body. His hair is kept long, a tangled mess at his ears and licking his shoulders. A black mask covers the bottom half of his face, and blue, cloudy eyes stare back at you as you drink him in. You have no time to recognize that he is evaluating you, counting the injuries dotting your body and analyzing the blood on your face and knee. You’re too enthralled by the sleek, silver metal of his left arm, too mesmerized by the way the light glints off of it to realize that he’s already calculating ways you need to improve.

“Here we are, ptitsa. Meet your new teacher. Hydra calls him ‘The Winter Soldier.’”

Now

“So, what you’re saying is we’re fucked, then.”

Any other time, Bucky would have laughed. He’d have let your sarcastic humor ease the anxiety he felt when faced with a difficult enemy, would have thrown back his own wise-ass comment or tried to lighten the mood, for your sake. But with a stranger standing three feet away, arms crossed as he leaned against the window to keep watch, he was on edge.

Bucky never liked strangers, and he definitely didn’t trust them, especially the ones who ran around in costumes and masks.

His eyes shifted from the masked Devil to you. You were crouched in front of the door, arms wrapped around your knees as you stared ahead, tracing shapes in the tile. The coffee shop would be opening in a few hours, and you were no closer to finding the man who’d attacked you.

“Taskmaster,” the Devil repeated Bucky’s revelation, the word tasting sour on his tongue. “He’s a super soldier? Like you?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and the Devil must have noticed his ire, because he held up a defensive hand. “No,” Bucky’s teeth ground at the back of his jaw and he shook his head. “He’s… different. He’s strong, and fast, sure- but he can do… Something. He can copy any technique he’s seen before. Mine. Yours.”

“Black Swan,” Matt finished, nodding along. Bucky’s gaze burned into him.

Matt had done a lot of reading over the years. He read the articles about Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes: how he had been wanted for allegedly killing the King of Wakanda, along with several other members of the United Nations, in a bombing. It was an event that inspired division in the Avengers. The facts and rumors were indistinguishable, but if there was one thing Matthew Murdock excelled at, it was telling the difference between the guilty and the innocent.

“He’s a mercenary,” Bucky said, shifting the gun strapped to his back. “Doesn’t care who he’s working for as long as he gets paid.”

“So, he’s not after them, exactly.” You frowned, tapping your fingers on your arms as you crossed one foot over the other. “Someone else is. Who?”

“Last time anyone saw him, he was working for Dreykov,” Bucky said. His lips drew into a fine line, and as his eyes slid away from the Devil and landed on your face, Matt felt Bucky’s heart rate tick.

Oh. Oh.

“But why?” Matt cleared his throat, and Bucky tore his eyes away from your face. “And what about the others? Petrova and Kalashnik? Drugova?”

Bucky held his breath, looking to you to answer. You didn’t look at the Devil. Matt listened, hard, but your heart beat as steady as if he’d asked for the time. It was odd, almost frightening, how well you could hide your emotions from him. He had never met anyone with so much control before.

Finally, your tongue pressed against the inside of your teeth, and you looked up at him as though trying to see through the red lenses on his mask. “They were Black Widows.”

Everything seemed to click into place at once. Petrova’s guns, how well she had fought for her life until it was taken. All of them coming to the Americas at the same time, the lack of information about their lives before then. Not just their lives, but yours.

The Devil turned his face toward you with purpose, and Bucky’s fingers twitched like he was ready to go for his gun.

“And you, you’re one of them.”

In a courtroom, accusations carry a certain tone. An intentional, poignant punctuation that demands attention to specific words, carries the meaning of questions not asked. Inflections meant everything; emphasis on one word or another could change the whole meaning of a phrase. It could mean the difference between you did this, you did this, you did this. 

Matt’s words carried none of this. He wasn’t here to place judgment. His job was not one of presenting a guilty verdict but one of evidence, and he did not have enough to stand on one side or another. He knew about Black Widows- one Black Widow. Natasha Romanov had made her file public, and Matt had read and read and read the things she had done, both good and bad. Sins of one Widow, however, were not the sins of them all, nor were their graces. 

“Not anymore. None of them were. They- we- just wanted to take back our lives.”

And sins were not Matt’s business to judge, either. What they were doing, in this kitchen, on the snowy streets, was beyond law. It was God’s jurisdiction to decide the fate of the Black Widows, of Black Swan. Of Daredevil. If you were telling the truth, then these women had rehabilitated themselves, not in the eyes of the law but perhaps indeed in the eyes of God, and though they may have never paid for their crimes in a legal sense, it wasn’t his- or Taskmaster’s- place to take their lives. One couldn’t stand trial after execution. 

Bucky was staring hard at Matt’s helmeted face, threatening him to make a move against their companion. His hand tightened around the rifle, but otherwise, he remained still, waiting. He would protect you if he had to. He would die if he had to. Matt was sure of that.

“So,” Matt said, tilting his head to listen as a car passed through a stoplight on the street. “Someone hired Taskmaster to kill ex-Black Widows. You said this.. Dreykov? He’s dead? Who was he?”

“The leader of the Widows,” you mumbled. Your eyes were trained firmly at the concrete between your feet, not looking at either of the men. Matt turned his face toward you for answers, but Bucky’s heartbeat betrayed his concern. It was clearly a touchy subject, but feelings mattered very little when lives were on the line. “He was our… Overseer. The Red Room was his dollhouse.”

Matt couldn’t suppress the recoil that shot through him at your choice of language. It sent a cold chill up his spine. “And you’re sure he’s dead?”

You were quiet for a long moment. Your heart faltered, just a fraction of a moment, and a sigh of defeat fell from your lips. “A building fell on him, and we scattered like myshi. He’s dead, and we’re just trying to rebuild.”

“A building fell on me once, too.” You blinked up at the Devil, brows tugged together in confusion. Bucky’s brow rose curiously. “I’m still standing, so maybe Dreykov is, too.”

“You think he’s out for revenge?”

“Makes sense,” Bucky added, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Maybe he felt betrayed. All his operatives gone, his only option becomes hiring somebody who can track them down. Make them pay for leaving him to die.”

Silence fell over the room- or, at least, as close to silence as can get for Matt. He could still make out the muffled sounds of the occasional car on the street, of racoons burrowing in the trash for warmth. Someone honked their horn two blocks east.

“How do we find Taskmaster? Or Dreykov?” Your gaze flickered between the men, searching for answers none of you had. “More importantly, how do we stop them before more Widows are killed?”

“Where was he when the building fell?”

Your eyes landed on the Devil, and even though you could only see the bottom of his face, contemplation sat heavy in his features. 

“From what I heard, he’d recreated the Red Room. I was-“ you paused, steadying your heart. The Devil’s lips pressed into a fine line, as though he could hear it. “Not present at the time. Budapest. He was in Budapest.”

“If I were Dreykov,” Bucky let go of the rifle, shifting uncomfortably. “I’d leave Russia. Get far away from wherever any Widows could find me.”

“So, that’s our plan? Find Dreykov before Taskmaster kills the rest of the Widows?” The cold air of the kitchen sent a shiver up your spine, and your hands wrapped around your biceps as you looked between the two men. “We don’t even know where to start.”

Bucky lifted his face to the ceiling, cursing under his breath. “We could try Shield.”

You and the Devil looked at him expectantly, but he closed his eyes as though praying to God there was another option, but one did not present itself as he pinched his nose between his fingers. “Shield has a file on both of them. But Fury is MIA, and they won’t hand that stuff over willingly. Not to us. And with Steve gone…”

The weight of Bucky’s implication was heavy in Matt’s gut. “You’re saying we go to the Shield headquarters, break into a high-tech, high-security building, steal classified documents from their database, fight our way out, and hope that we don’t become federal criminals?”

Bucky said nothing.

You let out a long sigh, shrugging the blanket to the floor and kicking it under a prep table. “Okay, but I need to change. This dress is absolutely ruined.”

Tags:

@hotleaf-juice @mcueveryday @nemtodd-barnes1923 @jurpng @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @morganaah @julietweasley @simonsbluee @gothicxbarbie @dark-night-sky-99 @iknowrocknroll @madwitch7 @angelhxneyy @zer0luck @cheeseman

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

The Club Reading Order

The Duff, Nightlife, and Carpe Noctem can be read on their own and thus I will not include them in this list. Cause of Action can be read on its own but should be read after The Duff.

Find the AU Masterlist here.

*this is only a recommended order, meaning that some parts overlap but events should align relatively chronologically.

Snake Eyes ☾ Part 1 

Mise en Place ♡ Part 1 

Wasted ✫ Part 1

Black Light ✧ Part 1

Snake Eyes ☾ Part 2 

Mise en Place ♡ Part 2

Wasted ✫ Part 2

Wasted ✫ Part 3 

Wasted ✫ Part 4 

Snake Eyes ☾ Part 3 

Mise en Place ♡ Part 3

Black Light ✧ Part 2 

Snake Eyes ☾ Part 4

Mise en Place ♡ Part 4

Black Light ✧ Part 3

Wasted ✫ Part 5 

Black Light ✧ Part 4

Wasted ✫ Part 6

[pedrito-friskito]

// WELCOME TO //

-> kay’s in her ttpd era.

ta-da!!! welcome the tortured writer’s department (kay’s version) - an assortment of fics based on my favourite ttpd songs (yeah I know), along with some bonus tracks and features. I’ve been challenging myself to write shorter fics based on pure vibes from songs, and the current fixaction is the tortured poets department, so here we are. (and most of these are shower thoughts, I’ll be completely honest) there are other ~tentative~ tracks that may or may not appear, the below is mostly confirmed, but still could change! *all characters are subject to change lol*

// THE SETLIST //

fortnight - marcus pike

who’s afraid of little old me? - joel miller

so long, london - captain john price (mw3)

fresh out the slammer - dieter bravo (calculated risks)

guilty as sin? - javier peña

loml - matt murdock

the alchemy - pre!outbreak joel miller

how did it end? - bucky barnes

the prophecy - din djarin

// THE BONUS TRACKS + FEATURES //

champagne problems - frankie morales/santiago garcia

this love - tasm!peter parker

getaway car - sierra six (the gray man)

cruel summer - matt murdock (the kitten and the devil)

coffee by chappell roan - dieter bravo

dinner with friends by kacey musgraves - frankie morales

seven devils by florence + the machine - pero tovar (the warrior and the witch)

-> if you have any other track/character combos you think should be on the setlist, or you’re curious about what I’ve got going, my inbox is open 🤍

[morbidmorbid]

i love and envy the girlies who can write about more than one character and keep it cute and classy.

like my mind is CLUTTERED with bucky barnes, daryl dixon, simon riley, steve rogers, thor, patrick bateman, greg tolan, spencer reid, kazuya mishima, devil jin, cloud strife and many more but they all can’t fit on here im sorry boys 😞

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pretty Petals 25

Warnings: this fic will include dark content including rape/noncon, kidnapping, violence, sexual acts (fingering, oral, anal, dp), coercion, bondage, and more tags to be added as the series progresses. PREPARE YOUR PANTIES, HOES.

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: You go on a self-improvement retreat, but not all is as it seems.

Girls and Flower Name List HERE!

Characters: Ransom Drysdale, Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker, Curtis Everett, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Loki, Andy Barber, Hela, and multiple OFCs

Note: I am like in dread of work so here it is lolll

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. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all like birds love to appear everytime you are near. Take care. 💖

Zinnia’s screams haunt your prison. That’s what it is. Not a cabin. Not a house. Not even a fortress. No, you are all trapped here. 

Her first night there is shrill and horrifying and endless. Not just for her but all of you. The rare night spent alone but only knowing that she suffers for it. None of you are so foolish to think these men would show pity for her inexperience.

You hear Azalea through the wall, sobbing. A few times, you find yourself awash in a flow of grief. Swollen eyes succumb to drowsiness and you wade through the night in painful sleep, waking now and again to the throbbing ache behind your brow.

The last time you rouse, you’re not alone. The weight in the bed next to your grumbles and shoves you back down as you try to sit up. Ransom rolls over as you lay flat on your back. He tweaks your nipple through the thin layer of your camisole and pats your chest.

“Good girl, Lily,” he closes his eyes and is just as quickly snoring again.

Is it starting all over again? Back to the basics. You and Ransom. You hate to admit it even in your head but his return is almost comforting. You know what to expect when it’s just the two of you.

You don’t sleep again. You can’t. You just lay staring up at the ceiling, watching the morning slowly spread across the plaster. It’s a startling calm that undermines your reality starkly. A reminder that this tiny corner of the world is forgotten and hopeless in a vast world that keeps turning.

You shift onto your side and hide your face in the pillow. You keep your back to Ransom as you rattle with suppressed sobs. It would be so much easier if you could just stop thinking.

You sniffle and try to tamp down your tears. You miss your apartment. After how long of cursing that cramped box, of wanting to be anywhere else, you would kill just to see your ratty couch again. Just to sleep on your lumpy futon or stare into your scant fridge. 

Freedom isn’t what you thought it was. Freedom is waking up to an alarm every day and going to a job you hate so you can make a few dimes of your own. Freedom is parsing out that measly check in a desperate struggle to survive. Freedom is that sliver of choice you get in doing so. It’s surviving, all the same, but on your own terms. Not on theirs.

You want to give up, so badly. You should. It only hurts to fight but you won’t. You can’t. Dahlia is right. You can still have that freedom, in that you can choose your end.

You wipe clean your face and sigh. You glance over at Ransom and carefully fold back the blanket from over you. You sit up, jostling as little as you can as you shimmy out of your camisole and panties. 

You ease yourself back on your elbow and turn onto your side. Your reach beneath the crumple edge of the duvet and feel around blindly. You wrap your fingers around his dick. He’s soft but not for long as you stroke him slowly, fondling his limpness until he’s hard and groaning.

“Lily pad…” Ransom breathes and pets your temple, “what–”

You hush him as you drag your hand up his stomach. You plant your palm on his chest and lift yourself up. You shove the blanket away from his body and hook your leg over him. You reach beneath yourself and angle his tip along your cunt. You straddle him, inching onto him as you let out a hum.

He’s stunned by his awakening. In that moment, you have power. You have something you can use. You sink to your limit and moan, twitching around him as your nails dig into his firm muscle. His hands crawl up and down your sides as he admires your body.

He shudders and lets out shallow breaths as you rock. You feel the tension knot in his stomach as you trail down. You sense the vulnerability in that moment. You see yourself smashing his jaw in with your fist or bringing your hands to his throat and squeezing until he’s gagging.

You resist that fatal urge and buck fast, the noise of your bodies clapping in the early morning hue. The bed shakes as you huff out your effort, closing your eyes as you cling to the vision of your liberation. The fantasy of violence driving you onward.

Too soon, you know it. Wait, watch, calculate. Don’t strike too soon. Not alone.

“Lily,” Ransom frames your hips as he pulls you down harder and harder, “fuck, what are you–”

“Shhh,” you smother his mouth and fuck him harder, leaning over him as you flick your lashes open, “I missed you.”

He watches you as you hover over him. You poke your fingers between his lips and delve into his mouth. He bites on your knuckles as you keep your hips tilting. He babbles around them as he quakes beneath you. Almost there.

“You going to cum inside me,” you hold back your disgust at the words, “hmm, I want you too–”

He gurgles and his eyes roll back as he spasms. You feel the heat burst inside of you and push yourself up. You lean back and ride out his climax. You stop only as he’s breathless and prone. Then. You could do it then. You could hurt him. You could murder him.

You sit paralysed, horrified at what you’ve done and what you think of doing. They made you a monster too. They’ve filled you with a rage that will never leave you. You will never escape the fractures they’ve rented into you. You can never fix yourself but you don’t care about that. You only want to break them.

💐

The morning brightens through the curtains, rousing Ransom as he sits up with an effort not to disturb you. His caution is uncharacteristic and confounding. You’re already awake but you don’t let him know. You just watch his back as he rubs his eyes and combs his fingers back through his hair.

He yawns and stands, his naked ass greeting you unceremoniously. You squeeze your eyes shut and listen to him move around the room. A low growl in his throat but no words. He dresses in silence and to your surprise, does not try to touch you. He leaves you confounded, hidden beneath your eyelids as you try to figure out what ploy is at hand.

You stay buried in dread, waiting. For his return. For some disturbance from outside; for screams, for thumps, for the eruption of chaos that comes every day. It doesn’t come. You only hear the deliberate movement of bodies trying not to be heard.

You get up and near the door. You grasp the handle and turn it, slowly, easing it around until the mechanism stops. You’re locked in. Fuck. It’s not a surprise but you want to know what’s going on out there.

You lean against the door, cupping your ear with your hand as you try to hear. Who is it? How many? What are they up to? It’s just a shuffle that you can’t make sense of, capped by the final and jarring snap of the front door. You can tell which it is by the weight of it, by the subtle creak of wood beneath several pairs of feet.

You retreat back to bed and sit, thinking. Ransom’s scent lingers along with the dread. They must be plotting something new. Another chase, another game, another humiliation. There’s a new girl so that means you all must suffer. That’s how it works. Their fun is your punishment.

You go into the bathroom and crank on the tub. It’s a small relief amidst the oppression of this place. You ease into the water and recline against the porcelain. There is no sense in letting them taint what little time you’re afforded to yourself. Those tiny moments when you can try to retrieve your sanity.

You think of the night before. You feel weak as the heat of the water seeps into you but there remains that sliver of anger, fueled by the memory of Dahlia’s words. Of the fury laced in her voice. You can’t do this for yourself but when you think of the other girls, you find it hard to admit defeat.

You don’t emerge until the water is cold. You pull the stopper and go through the usual. The routine that’s become second nature. To keep yourself moisturised and pretty for these tormentors. It brings a sardonic chuckle to your throat. You do it nonetheless, there is something soothing in the simple tasks.

You put on a white dress; a simple short baby doll. You go to the window and look out at the back deck, the pool sparkling in the morning light. Leaves sway above reflecting in the water and birds flit from branch to branch.

The soft click of the lock beneath your door handle jolts you. You turn to face the door as it opens and you repress a tide of fury as Hela smiles at you. She’s back in a flowing caftan, patterned with geometrical bands and edged with a crochet scallop. She looks ridiculous.

“Breakfast is served, Lily Flower,” she declares, “won’t you come join us?”

You don’t say a word. You come forward but she doesn’t move from your path. She watches you with a placid smile.

“Lily, do you forget all I’ve taught you already?” She challenges.

“No, Gaia, I am coming,” you assure her flatly. “I remember… I remember it all.”

She looks down at you and her lips curl further. She hums into a laugh, “you are still my favourite. I always knew you were the prettiest of my flowers.”

You try not to show your distaste. She is condescending. You see it now. Those nights you sat at your computer in those nonsense seminars, she was conditioning you, all of you.

She leans in and you fight not to recoil. She tilts your chin up with her long fingers and kisses your lips. You let her and she parts with a sultry breath.

“So sweet,” she whispers and gives a final stroke to your cheek.

She spins, her caftan fluttering and leads you through to the dining room. You take your seat among the several other girls already arranged around the long table. Azalea stares dead ahead, Zinnia’s head hangs low behind her hands, and Violet traces her fingertips over the table as if drawing a picture.

The others are brought in, one by one; Dahlia claims the seat beside you, Marigold emerges with her black hair in tangles, wearing the same outfit as days ago, Daisy enters without expression or reaction, and Rose looks around with an almost cloudy look in her eyes.

Hela floats in and out. She sets a dish of fruit before each of you, along with a cup of greek yogurt, and some yellowish tea with a pungent smell. You all just sit without reaction, glancing at each other in uncertainty.

“Please, dig in, girls, we have a day planned for all of us. We will take yoga on the deck. You recall our first days. And we will have some trust building activities. This is about rejuvenation. As the season comes to an end, we must all welcome new beginnings–”

“What?” Dahlia growls.

Azalea pops her head up, “is it… fall?”

Violet glances out the sliding doors, “the night comes earlier…”

There’s a lull as you all realise it’s been so long since your arrival. So long that you hadn’t noticed the changes all around you. You can smell it in the air, the slow transition is coming, you see it in the sky.

You exhale and peek over at Dahlia. She looks back at you from the corner of her eye as she picks up the bamboo spoon and examines it. A new safeguard. Can’t do much damage with that. She scoops up the yogurt as the other girls languish in their dissonance.

“I can’t believe we’ve come this far,” Dahlia declares.

You grab your spoon and mirror her, the other girls doing the same, going around the table until you’re all choking down the flavourless yogurt in a silent accord. You will play along. The season is not the only change coming.

💐

A day passes, then two. With no hint of the men. It’s strange but ominous. Almost as if knowing the men are around is comforting. Then at least, you know what to expect.

You have another morning yoga session, on your color-coded mats, by the pool. Each of you follow Hela’s direction; making the moves, taking each breath long and low. After, you laze around the pool in a communal daze.

You’re unnerved by the languidity that’s settled over the house. It echoes those early days when this was only a retreat, when it was fun, when it felt like summer camp. When you still wore your own name.

There’s something coming. There has to be. 

Dahlia lays beneath a pair of square sunglasses, as black as her string bikini. Her muscles shine with sweat as the sun kisses her skin. You see the strength corded around her petite frame.

Hela looms not far away, on one of the longers as she has Violet sit near her. They speak in hushed tones. Each of you has your turn, beckoned to ingratiate yourself to the mighty Gaia. You roll over and put your chin in your hand.

Your eyes settle on Zinnia. She sits alone, heading hanging, hugging her knees. You can’t imagine how alone she must feel. The rest of you came here together, you went through each step with a sense of camaraderie, but she was introduced to you all as another set of abusers. Your guilt bubbles over and you stand, leaving Dahlia by herself.

You near Zinnia, almost shyly, and stop before her. She doesn’t look up, she only cowers in your shadow. 

“Can I sit?” You ask.

She doesn’t answer, just shrugs. You lower yourself across from her and cross your legs. You don’t know what to say, you just felt like you had to come over.

“I’m Lily.”

She sniffs and picks her thumbnail. You take a breath and glance over. Hela watches you. You don’t doubt she’ll be curious but what else are you supposed to do? You’re all just sitting around, waiting.

“I know I can’t apologise because what happened happened. I’d hate all of us too. I could point out that we’re just the same but that won’t change how you feel. I’m not trying to absolve myself. I’m just trying to say you’re not alone so… if you ever need anything, I can do my best and I can speak for the rest that they will too.”

She blinks at the ground then slowly raises her head. She meets your eye and you wince. Her cheek ticks and her eyes gleam.

“I remember you,” she murmurs, “in the meetings. We were in the same breakout group.”

Your lips part and you gape at her. She is familiar. Oh, god. She’s just another dupe.

“Corrine,” you remember and she nods, her tears flowing out. “It’s a beautiful name but you can’t use it here.”

She gulps and wipes her cheeks, “I know. He told me—” she turns her head away, “he taught me my name.”

You shake your head and aver your eyes in turn. You don’t know what to do or say. She puts her legs down and leans forward, touching your arm gently, “I’m not mad at any of you. I’m scared.”

“We all are,” you assure her, “and you do need to be mad. At them. The men.”

[takahashi-edits]

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