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simplyholl · 9 months

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A Night With The Winter Soldier

Summary: You’re sent to be Hydra’s test subject for a new serum.

Pairing: F. Reader x Winter Soldier Bucky

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Dark Bucky. Non con. Oral. Unprotected sex.

See My Masterlist Here

A/N: I know I don’t usually write for Bucky, but this idea has been stuck in my head for a long time. I’m just tagging my regular tag list, if you’re not into dark fics, please skip! ❤️

Fucked. That’s what you were or at least what you were going to be. You shake your head as you cover your skimpy lingerie with the matching robe your mother gave to you.

Your father is the head scientist for Hydra. He had been working on this experiment for years. He had created a serum that would cause Super Soldiers to want to reproduce. The end result would be a perfect Super Soldier baby. He finally perfected it. Who could be a better test subject than his daughter?

You begged him. You pleaded and cried. It was unfair to expect this of you. But he didn’t care how you felt. He said it was your duty to do as you were told. You didn’t want to make Hydra upset with your family, did you? You knew the horrors that awaited you if you refused. Your best friend, Lilly and her whole family disappeared three years ago when her father refused a command from Hydra. They were brutal and cruel. Sadly, you were used to it.

Hydra came first. Before yourself, before your family, your loyalty had to be unwavering. You knew it wasn’t really your father who had suggested it be you. Your mother told you it was one of the higher ups. He had seen you in your new sundress a few weeks ago and thought you would be perfect to carry the first Super Soldier baby.

It made you sick. How could they do this? You didn’t want to know what would happen if you refused. “At least, he is the strongest Super Soldier. This baby’s genes will be impeccable with the both of you for parents.” Your mother reassured you, as if it would help you feel better.

You weren’t naive. You and the baby would be monitored from the moment you got pregnant. As soon as you gave birth, the child would be ripped from your arms and watched closely. It wouldn’t really be yours.

You take the elevator to the thirteenth floor, heart racing wildly. You were scared. You had seen the Super Soldiers behind glass doors where you were protected from them. Now, you were being offered on a silver platter to the biggest baddest one, like a worm on a hook waiting for a fish to jump after them.

Two guards stand outside the door to the windowless room. Their eyes roam over your barely covered body. They smirk at you as they type in the code to let you in. “Good luck, princess. You’re going to need it.” They evilly laugh as the door opens. Slowly, you walk in, your breath catching in your throat as you hear the steel door bang tightly shut behind you.

The room is dimly lit. A leather chair in one corner, a bed pressed against the wall, there’s a table with a half worked puzzle on it. It was so dreary, your heart aches for the poor guy that called this room home. You walk over to the table, running your hand over the puzzle. That’s when you feel it. Even though you couldn’t see him, you’re not alone. He’s in here with you, hid in the dark corners somewhere. You turn around to find him staring at you.

The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, you had demanded to know his name before you did this. His dark hair hung in waves by his cheeks, his cold blue eyes focused on your body. He was beautiful. You weren’t used to seeing him without the black mask he usually wore. He was shirtless, his silver, metal arm catching your attention. You studied it. The way it looks like it was forcefully put on, the red star on his shoulder. He was always silent, brooding in the shadows. You had never been this close to him.

You reach for his face, wanting to feel him before all this started. His metal arm stops you, cold hand wrapping around your wrist. You squeak when he twists your arm behind your back, walking you toward the table.

He presses you against it, you feel his erection threatening to burst out of his black pants. One swipe of his free hand knocks the puzzle to the floor. Colorful pieces scatter all around you. He lifts you on top of the table, the cold surface making you gasp when your bare legs land on it.

Bucky holds you with his metal arm, the other one makes quick work of your flimsy robe. He grabs your breast through the thin fabric of your lingerie. You squirm under his touch as he pinches your nipple through the lace.

“You don’t know how bad I need this. Been a long time since I’ve had a pretty girl like you in my bed.” You’re shocked when he speaks to you. You had been warned that he wouldn’t talk to you at all. He takes a step back to look at you, zeroing in on your panties.

He pushes your back to the wall, commanding you to stay there. You obey, you didn’t want to upset him and make this worse for yourself. He holds your top in one hand, jerking the material. The sound of it’s ripping, startling you. He was crazy strong. The thought of being manhandled by him sounded better by the second.

Next was your panties, he stripped you of them quickly, pulling you by your legs to the edge of the table. He got on his knees before you, shoving his face to your core. He licks one fat stripe up your center, moaning as he tastes you. He swirls his tongue across your clit, you buck your hips up to get closer.

Bucky pushes you down with his metal arm, ensuring that you wouldn’t be able to move. You accept your fate, laying back as he laps at you. He fucks you with his tongue, his nose rubbing expertly against your sensitive nub. The band tightly wound in your stomach snaps as he drags his wicked tongue across your clit, sucking you between his lips. He doesn’t hold back his moans as your arousal floods his face.

When he emerges, his face is glistening because of you. He wipes it off with the back of his flesh hand. Bucky jerks you off the table, pointing to the cold, cement ground. “On your knees.” You sink down in front of him as he sheds his pants. You’re surprised he hadn’t already taken them off.

You shift on your knees, trying to get comfortable. He could at least offer you a pillow to kneel on or something. You look around, and spot the only one on his bed. You’re about to ask for it, when he pulls your hair roughly, jerking your head toward his throbbing cock. It was huge. The kind of big that would hurt. You open your mouth, trying to take all of him inside.

You choke and gag, spit dribbling down your chin onto your breasts as you struggle. He looks down at you, hand still tangled in your hair. Your jaw aches already and he’s just getting started. He thrusts his hips forward, pushing your head down simultaneously. Tears fill your eyes as he hits the back of your throat. You can’t help the sob that escapes you as he pulls out, only to forcefully push his way back in.

His thumbs follow the tears on your cheeks, your mascara pooling under your eyes making you look like a raccoon. “You look so pretty when you cry.” He coos, while looking at you adoringly. He thrusts three more times, your nails dig into his thighs, a silent plea to stop. He finally pulls out, collecting you from the floor and gently placing you on his bed.

He places one leg over his shoulder, lining himself up at your entrance. He pushes inside and it’s too much. “It’s- you’re too big.” You explain. Bucky moves your other leg, spreading you wider. “You’re gonna take all of it.” He grunts, wedging himself inside you, bottoming out with one thrust. He ignores your pained scream, leaning down to lick your fresh tears.

“So tight. So perfect. Just for me.” He praises in your ear. Finally, the pain subsides. Bucky feels incredible, his thick cock dragging against the spot that makes your head swim. A gush of arousal soaks him as he swirls his metal thumb in circles on your clit.

“Look at you, such a good girl, dripping all over my cock.” You moan, clenching around him, your long nails clawing his back, drawing blood as your second orgasm rips through you. His thrusts grow sloppy as you feel him go still inside you. His hot cum, drips down your legs as he withdraws himself from you.

Bucky swipes it with his index finger, rubbing it with his thumb. He brings it to your lips, you swirl your tongue around his long digit, loving the way he tastes. You’re caught off guard when his icy, metal hand collects as much cum as he can, stuffing it back inside you.

You twitch, trying to pull away from the cold hand on your heat. “Ah ah ah.” He scolds. He presses his cool thumb to your clit, toying with the oversensitive pearl. “You have to take every drop.” When he’s satisfied with his work, he makes you lay on your back so it doesn’t drip back out.

You close your eyes, the sweet promise of sleep taking over you. You are almost in dream land when you feel the familiar nudge of Bucky’s cock at your sore center. “What are you doing?” You ask, too tired to fight him. “I’m not finished with you yet, doll.” He smiles wickedly, snapping his hips to fill you again.

Tags

@lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @wheredafandomat @freegardenbanananeck @lokidokieokie @l0ki3000 @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lamentis-10 @loz-3 @litaloni @lulubelle814 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @avengersfan25 @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @mybugabomlb @bunny24sstuff @luthien-elvenia-asher @gruftiela @asgards-princess-of-mischief @weirdothatwritess

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Take Me Home Tonight

Summary: You run into a familiar face while working. (Bucky Barnes)

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, fingering, dry humping, flirting.

Note: look, we didn't expect Applebee's to inspire one fic, but now it's done two fics. Shit. We are deranged.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think. Please also reblog because it’s a lot longer than I intended.

You hug the menus to your chest as you approach the booth of four newly sat in your section. As you do, you stutter step, unsure if your eyes are seeing clearly. You know that hair, the subtle wave of brown with strands of silver woven in. You step up and give a smile to the men.

“Good evening,” you place a menu in front of each of them; the burly blonde comedically crowded into the corner beside the man with dark hair and darker eyes, the blonde you vaguely recognise from his acquaintance with the most familiar face at the table, “Mr. Barnes.”

“Oh, hi,” he sits up and sets the drink menu back at the centre of the table, “uh,” he gives you a peculiar look, “I thought you worked down at the Denny’s.”

“Used to. Just got hired here,” you chime, “uh, so, are you all ready to go with your drink orders?”

“You mind?” The blond with the short hair nudges him.

“Yeah, go ahead, I’m still thinking,” he sits back.

“Heineken,” the man orders with a tweak of his eyebrow.

“Seems you don’t carry Hansa so I’ll have a jolly rancher cocktail,” the big blond intones. You almost laugh, thinking of him with the bright blue drink with a gummy worm for garnish.

“Shirley Temple for me,” the other says, “designated driver.”

“Oh, of course,” you note each order in your head, “and you, Mr. Barnes?”

“Mr. Barnes,” the man across from him goads.

“Bucky,” Mr. Barnes corrects you, “uh, I’ll take a Corona.”

“Alright, Heineken, jolly rancher, Shirley Temple, Corona,” you list off, “I’ll be back with your drinks and to take your order.”

“Thanks,” Bucky smiles.

“Yeah, thanks, doll,” the blonde at his shoulder winks. You don’t miss the elbow he receives from his seat partner.

You go to the bar and put in the order. You do a round to check in on your other tables, grabbing a few napkins at request and clearing plates. When the drinks are set out neatly on a tray, you carry them to the booth and dole them out.

“So, are we starting with an appetizer?” You ask.

“We’ll do some nachos,” the man across from Bucky says, “thanks, sweetie.”

“Beef, chicken, or veggie?”

“Chicken,” he answers.

“Hey, I know you,” the blond drapes his arm over the side of the booth, “you’re the neighbour girl.”

“Steve,” Bucky reproaches under his breath.

“What? It was killing me. I just couldn’t place the face.”

Bucky utters your name, almost reluctant to do so, “I’m just out with buddies,” he explains, “buncha old men catching up;” he jabs his thumb towards the man beside him, “Steve, Thor,” he points to the other blonde then to the man across from him, “Sam.”

“Sounds like fun,” you chirp, “well, I’ll go get those nachos. Are we planning on entrees?”

“We’ll just share the chips,” Bucky assures.

Sam leans back and pats his chest, “heartburn.”

You humour him with a smile and nod before spinning away. You flit off and head for the kitchen. It’s strange seeing Mr. Barnes– Bucky outside the neighbourhood. He’s always just been next door. Odder even seeing him without his family. Well, you guess he deserves the break. Every time you see him, he’s on his way somewhere.

🍻

The night wears on. Your shifts always pass quickly as you’re kept afoot by patrons and managers alike. Several times you find yourself visiting Bucky’s table to top up drinks and they grow rowdy as the game comes on the big screen.

You’re almost amused as you’ve never seen your neighbour like this. He’s always so stern and standoffish. A small wave as he mows the lawn or a ‘morning’ as you pass by him unlocking his car. Even your father claimed he was the most serious man he’d ever met.

“Sweetheart,” Sam smiles at you as clear the empties, “can we get our check? I gotta get them out of here before they break something.”

“Sure thing,” you say as you stack the tray with bottles and glasses, “separate or together?”

“Together. I’ll have to chase them down for the difference,” Sam answers.

As you take the clear Corona bottle from in front of Bucky, he rests his chin in his hand and watches you. Your eyes meet his and your cheeks round even more. He’s definitely drunk.

“Hi,” he babbles.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes,” you return.

“I told you, it’s Bucky,” he grins.

“Bucky,” you repeat, “you want some water?”

He sits up and drags his elbow off the table, “I guess I should…”

“For all of them,” Sam says from your other side, “please.”

“Alright, check and waters.”

You almost click your heels before you sweep off on your mission. It’s almost closing time and the place is sparse. A few stragglers along the bar but no more hectic families of screaming toddlers breaking crayons and tossing napkins.

You go to the till and print out the bill and grab a handheld from the charger. You place both on your cleared tray and fill three glasses of water. You carry them back to your last table and gently set the condensating drinks before each diner. Sam takes the bill as he holds his card between two fingers.

“You go to school?” Steve’s voice startles you before you can summon small talk.

“Uh, yeah, second year,” you answer him.

“I thought so,” he says, “college girls…”

“Shut up, Rogers,” Bucky grumbles, putting his hand up to block out Steve, “ignore him. He’s trashed.”

“Speak for yourself,” Steve swats his hand down and receives a swipe back.

The men slap at each others’ hands as Thor stands and leans over, his size deterring the men as he shoves their arms apart, “enough. Or I’ll drag you out like stray cats.”

You try not to show your discomfort as Sam hands you back the machine and it loudly prints his receipt. You offer him a copy but he insists you go and enjoy your night. You bid them all the same and set off to clear the last of your tables.

Your coworkers start their own closing tasks and the music turns off as closing time hits. You glance up, everyone’s gone. You go back to the booth and gather up the mostly untouched glasses of water and wipe it down. With your tables done, you turn in your apron and go to get your cut of the tips. Your tally comes up higher than you expect thanks to the table of middle-aged men.

You head out the back door and round to the front of the shining marquee. You’ll uber home since your mom is out of town. As you step up on the little pavement lip in front of the restaurant, a figure stands from their perch on the ground. You don’t recognise Bucky until he says your name.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” You ask as you lower your phone.

“Ah, well, me and Steve…” he rubs his neck and chuckles, “I’m waiting on a cab but none have passed by.” He shrugs, “plus, I figured we’re headed in the same direction…”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess,” you say, “I was just ordering an uber. Kinda don’t like taking them alone so late at night anyway.”

“Great,” he slurs, “uh, sorry about tonight. My friends are… a lot.”

“It’s fine, you were having a good time,” you select a ride and black out your phone. “Just make sure you drink lots of water.”

“Hmm,” he hums, “you’re so nice… I’ll be fine, you know? I can take care of myself.”

“I know, I just… I hate hangovers.”

“Oh? Didn’t take you for a drinker?”

“Well, don’t tell mom but once in a while.”

“My lips are sealed,” he surprises you as he reaches to squeeze your shoulder. “And I’ve never broken a promise to a pretty girl.”

You want to laugh. He’s tipsy and it’s kind of cute. The glare of headlights flash over you and he drops his arm away from you. The uber approaches and you check the plate, pointing Bucky in ahead of you.

He sidles over the seat and yawns as you climb in next to him. The driver confirms your destination as you let yourself relax against the seat. The tension of your shift slowly drifts away.

Bucky slowly slides until he’s leaning against you, “I’ll pay you back for the ride,” he grumbles as he rests his head on your shoulder.

The tension seeps back into you but you try not to overthink it. He’s just your neighbour, a friendly neighbourhood dad, a bit discombobulated from his night out. He probably doesn’t get many of those.

“Been a long time since I went home with a girl like you,” he chuckles.

You laugh, a nervous tickle in your throat as his weight bears down on you. You can smell a hint of citrus from his hair. Hopefully he’ll forget this all by the morning.

You’re quiet as the driver continues on. By the time you get to your street, you’re sure Bucky’s fallen asleep. You’re worried about getting him back to his place. As you get close to your house, you point the driver to the house right beside your own. That’ll be easier.

To your surprise, Bucky sits up and lets out a sleepy grumble. You thank the driver as your neighbour grabs onto your hand and tugs you towards his side as he opens the door. You let him and he clings to you as the uber leaves you in the shadow of the Barnes’ abode.

“Let’s go to bed,” he pulls you towards the walkway.

“Bucky,” you utter, “uh, Mr. Barnes?”

Is he that drunk? He must not realise you’re not his wife. You look around. You don’t see her car. That explains his little boys’ night. She’s probably visiting family again so he’s all alone.

“Hey,” you laugh unevenly as he drags you up onto the porch. He’s very strong. “Mr. Barnes, it’s me.”

He stops and sways. He squints at you and feels his pockets, jangling his keys through the fabric. He steadies himself and grins. His eyes hold yours, drowning you in pools of oceanic blue.

“I know,” he says soberly, “it’s you.”

You stare at him in confusion, blinking as he slides his hand into his pocket. You glance over your shoulder at the dark siding of your parents’ house. You face him again as he pulls his keys out but drops them between his shoes. You put your phone in your purse and shift the bag to rest on your hip.

“I should– oop,” you look down, “Mr. Barnes,” you bends to grab the keys, “alright, I’ll just get you inside and head home.” You stand up and hold up his keys, “which one?”

He points to the square gold one and you shove it into the slot. You push the door inward and gesture him ahead of you. He shuffles over the threshold, tripping before barely catching himself on the frame. You follow him in and look around cautiously. You’ve never been inside.

“Let’s get you to the couch, Mr. Barnes,” you grab his arm as he wobbles, “you just need to sleep this off–”

You tug on his arm but he doesn’t budge. Once more, all unsteadiness fades and he’s suddenly immovably still. He turns his head slowly and puts his hand over yours.

“I told you,” he faces you as he guides your hand up his arm, “it’s Bucky.”

“Um, alright, uh–”

He backs you up and you collide with the door, the impact forcing it shut. You gulp and press yourself against the inside as he pens you in, clutching your hand to his shoulder. The beer on his breath mingles with the citrusy scent that cloys from him.

“Mr. Barnes, what–”

“Shhh,” his hand slips from your and he grips your chin, “it’s okay–”

“St–”

He smothers your protest with a kiss. You’re too stunned to do more than flatten yourself against the door. His grip makes your jaw ache as his other hand crawls up your thigh. You squirm and push against his shoulder with a whine.

He doesn’t relent. He pushes his foot between yours, edging them apart as he picks your fly open. You curl your fingers, jabbing your nails into him. He growls but doesn’t stop.

You turn your head, forcing your mouth away from his.

“Mr. Barnes… Bucky, please–”

He hushes you again as his hand falls from chin to throat. He squeezes, crushing out any hope of screaming for help. He nuzzles into the side of your neck, his nose tickling the line of your jaw. You whimper as his hand delves beneath the cotton of your panties.

His fingertips brush along your trimmed vee of hair and he swirls the short curls with a purr. He extends his middle finger, feeling along your folds and dipping between. He flicks his finger back and forth, exploring you until he finds your clit. He rolls his finger, stoking a heat beneath his touch.

You wriggle and trail your hand down his arm, gripping his wrist as you fight him. You’re too weak. You croak through your tight throat as you try to fight the swirling tide building with the friction of his roughened fingertip. This can’t be happening.

He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not like this.

A million thoughts race with as many sensations. You stand on your toes as your muscles knots and the tension coils in your core. You shouldn’t feel like this. This is wrong. This isn’t real. Your eyes roll back and you hide behind your eyelids.

His finger glides as you slicken against him. He quickens his pace, toying with you as he breathes against your neck, puffing damply as his hand remains firm on you. He keeps you pinned as he goads your body on, fueling a fire you’ve never lit before.

You squeak as you twitch without permission. You succumb to the brewing storm, blown away in the whirlwind as your mind is stifled by your body. You gulp and gasp, your hand slipping down to his chest as your other falls away from his arm.

“You’re so sexy,” he purrs as he lets you go.

You brace yourself against the door, breathless and paralysed as you watch him raise his hand. He presses his fingertips to his mouth and you see the glisten on them. He pushes them inside and sucks them clean with a growl.

“And so sweet, baby,” he steps forward, crowding you again.

The afterglow has you helpless. He feels along your side as his other hand wanders down your leg. He pulls your knee up and brings himself flush to you. He bends his knees as he presses his crotch into yours. You murmur at the hot weight between you.

He curls his arm around your neck and your head lolls back. He bows to kiss you, devouring you as he slowly rocks his hip. A fiery heat builds between the layers of fabric, the friction of your seam rubs you through the damp cotton of your panties.

He gasps into your mouth as his pace quickens. The door shifts and squeaks with his motion as he pounds you into it, hips pumping as his bulge pokes through his jeans rigidly. Your head droops to the side and his wet lips smear over your cheek. He bites into your ear lobe and snarls.

Another tickle flares and you moan. A small burst that has you just as senseless. Your delight leaks onto your panties, spreading to the edges.

“Mmmmm,” he hums and releases the pinch of his bite, “fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me go– right in my–” he chokes as his fingertips sink into the bottom of your thigh and he pulls your leg higher, “jeans–”

He shakes and lets out a long rattle, sprinkled with deep groans and soft mewls. He leans into you completely and shudders, stilling at last. He sinks down with you, bringing you to straddle him as his knees meet the floor.

You heave and lift your head, gaping at him as his eyelids droop sleepily. He smiles, the expression crinkling around his eyes. He leans in and kisses you again, nibbling on your lower lip before pulling away.

“I won’t tell your mom about that either, kitten.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #one shot #mcu #marvel #au #silverfox au #captain america #avengers #winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader

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wandaslittlelove · 7 months

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Stopped loving Me

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader Warnings: Angst?

“So I'm not allowed to love you anymore?” I asked with my head turned away from wanda. Ever since Westview was created and she chose vision instead of me we had been arguing non stop.

“That's not what I'm saying!” I look at Wanda with a stone face not wanting to show her how much she's hurting me.

“Really? Because I believe the words ‘it would work out better if you stopped loving me’ mean that.” Wanda looks at me annoyed before she speaks

“I'm just saying it would be easier”

“For who? Me or you” the silence from wanda is all the information I need. With a scoff I pick up my bag before walking to the front door.

“Knowing that you chose a robot over your fiance really says a lot about you Wanda. You created a whole life with someone you had claimed to barely know while I was grieving the death of my sister. And when it all came crashing down you run back to me. I don't want that. I don't want you. I stopped loving you as soon as you ran into his arms” as i exited the place that had once been my home the tears had finally started to fall. Although they weren't out of sadness.

I was free. Finally free…or that's what I thought 4 months ago.

Until suddenly Wanda was trying to kill a child for her magic. Until Dr. Strange came to my door asking for help. And Until I found out our destinies would forever be linked.

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beyondspaceandstars · 1 year

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You Heard Me

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, discussions of sex, dom/sub relationship, bit of dumbification, slightly dark - 18+, minors DNI Summary: Bucky doesn't really like it when you fight him on something. A/N: i was not sure about ever posting this bc i think i wrote it when i was slightly drunk. i remember trying to write more dark fics but then this happened and it's more dom/sub vibes than dark. either way.....it was a moment. it's short (under 1k words) but impactful. enjoy.

Masterlist

NSFW below break, 18+ only - under 18yrs DNI

"Give me your panties."

"Wh—What?"

"You heard me," Bucky growled. "Give me your panties."

You looked from him to the restaurant the car was parked in front of. You could make out through the window some of his friends from work (as he described them — they were superheroes to you) sitting around a table humming and hawing over the menu.

You’ve been with Bucky for just under a year but this was the first time you were set to meet anyone in his life. Bucky had been very strict with your relationship. He was incredibly dedicated but also suffocatingly possessive. He had become your world. Your everything. The air you breathed. The thoughts in your head. He ran within you, through and through.

You’d normally do anything he asked, thankful for his attention and love, but you grew hesitant at this request. You weren’t sure why. There wasn’t much you and Bucky hadn’t done in terms of intimacy but that was all in the comfort of your secluded home. You could be quite shy and reserved around others and it had been a bit since you had to interact with anyone besides Bucky.

"Why?" You softly asked.

"Why?" Bucky scoffed. "Did you just ask me why?"

"I… I’m sorry," you muttered, "it’s just…"

"It’s just what?"

You could sense his patience running thin. You sighed. "Bucky…"

He wasn’t having much more of it. Bucky gripped your chin and forcefully turned your head to face him. You gasped at the motion, a spike of fear and excitement spreading in you.

"Is it because I came inside you?" He asked mockingly. "That’s the issue, isn’t it, sweetheart? It’s because you had to wear this little number and I had no choice but rail you in the backseat."

You frowned. "You said you like this dress."

Bucky’s eyes darkened. "I love this dress, but wearing it comes with consequences, doesn’t it?" He spoke to you slowly, almost dumbing down his words. It made your head go foggy. "Give me your panties," he repeated for a third time.

You let out a little whine. "But I… It’ll be all messy."

"Good," Bucky snapped. "There won’t be any confusion over whether you’re taken or not."

A shiver crept down your spine. Although Bucky hasn’t taken you out much, the times he did, he always remarked about how it seemed like no one could take their eyes off you. He was constantly shooting men death stares or gripping your waist to the point of bruising. You didn’t really think his fears held much merit but you’d never tell him that — even if it was starting to get to a concerning point. Like now.

When you didn’t respond immediately, not even sure what to say in defense anymore, Bucky stepped it up a notch. "Give me your panties now or I’ll rip them off you. Your choice, honey."

He loosened his grip on your chin, allowing you to turn away. You took another glance at the restaurant. For a brief second, you made eye contact with Steve Rogers through the window. You immediately looked down at the car’s floorboard. Bucky’s eyes were practically burning holes in your head.

Sighing, you reached under your dress and slowly slid your pink satin panties down your legs. With every shift you felt the familiar warmth leak around your thighs.

You didn’t want to look at Bucky as you handed him your panties but he wasn’t happy for that. He grabbed at your neck this time, willing you to turn to him once more.

"Good girl," he said with a devious smirk. "I’ll only have to punish you a little tonight for trying to fight me earlier."

Your heart jumped in your chest. "Punishment?"

Bucky sighed. "We’re almost at our one year anniversary, sweetheart, I thought you would’ve learned by now but you’re a tough one."

You knew what punishment meant. You knew the room it was conducted in. A room you had spent many nights and many days in, completely consumed by the wants and will of Bucky.

"I… I’m sorry," you whispered.

Bucky seemed to consider it as he ran a thumb over your pouting lip but it didn’t last long. He gave your cheek a little harsh tap before pushing you to face forward in your seat.

"Save your sorries for when you’re tied to the bed and begging me to stop."

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morganxwritess · 2 months

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i'm definitely relapsing on my marvel era rn... i forgot how much i love steve and bucky. let's just say you've got some great stuff coming your way that features my two favorite super soldiers (and maybe even both of them at the same time???) (;

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layla4567 · 1 year

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Nursing day

Quicksilver x reader

Summary: The last battle against Jean was not gratifying and your boyfriend got the worst of it. Now while he is in the infirmary you visit him every so often and take care of him

Warning: injuries, mention of blood, fluff, a bit of angst, very poor plot of the film dark phoenix, spoilers of that movie, mention of death by impalement, a bit of coursing words

Jean was out of control, we didn't understand what was happening to her and to top it off she refused to receive help. Ororo, Hank, Charles, Raven, Scott, Peter, and I were trying to reason with her and reassure her that we wouldn't hurt her. On the other hand, the patrolmen had managed to upset Jean and now all that remained was to try to stop her, unfortunately we had to fight. Kurt was the first to strike, he teleported behind her but Jean's powers had expanded to unmatched levels and with a simple movement of her hand she pushed Kurt away as if he were a simple fly. Some policemen had approached and were pointing their guns at Jean, scared I approached but a hand stopped me

"Not yet"

Professor Xavier sitting next to me looked at me with a worried frown, he knew that even if I wanted to stop her it would be impossible.

Concerned, I saw how before the policemen could shoot, Jean yelled for them to stop and extending her arms, she overturned the cars, moving away, also blowing up the policemen. I could see that Jean's eyes had an orange aura around the pupil, right in the iris. And from his cheeks ran some kind of veins the color of fire.

This was too much for me, I wanted to help and I didn't know how. I was a mutant with cryokinesis. I could absorb energy and convert it into ice, as well as freeze things and people. Even so, I didn't think my powers could be of much use this time, Jean far surpassed me, to tell the truth, at that moment she surpassed all of us. I was trying to think of a strategy while Raven was talking to Jean to reassure her when to my horror I watched as Raven flew off and was impaled near a tree. I felt my legs lose strength as I raised a hand to my mouth in horror, Charles next to me had wet eyes and his lips trembled. Hank yelled her name hoarsely as he went to help her but unfortunately it was too late.

This was getting out of hand and I stepped in determined to end this once and for all. I could already feel that characteristic cold in my hands when I used my powers when suddenly Charles stopped me again.

"No!...wait.."

I turned around annoyed, not understanding why our professor refused to cooperate and stood idly by, but when I saw his afflicted face and his eyes full of tears, I understood that he didn't want to lose another student. I shake my head in frustration as I rack my brain trying to come up with some plan that will work, when I feel Peter stop next to me.

"Leave it to me"

With a quick and sure movement he put the glasses he was wearing on his head and ran towards Jean before we could stop him. Charles and I yelled at him to stop but he was gone at the speed of light. With my heart in a fist I was expecting the worst. Peter went to her climbing pieces of wood, we couldn't see him because he was going very fast but I could see how Jean made a movement of her hand and moved away a board where Peter was just going to step making him lose his balance and fall. Peter fell like a sack of potatoes and rolled abruptly ending up sprawled on the grass of a garden.

"NO!"

I screamed at the top of my lungs and trembling I ran to where Peter was. I approached calling him urgently but he didn't respond, his face was dirty and bruised. I took his face in fear. I saw how blood began to emanate from a wound on his forehead. Compunged and with teary eyes, I quickly looked for his pulse and breathed with relief when I verified that he was only unconscious. Inside me, sadness and anger swirled. I wanted to break everything. I was furious, with Jean, with Charles but especially with myself. If I hadn't hesitated so much I could have prevented this, or at least prevented Peter from going to confront him and going instead, even though that meant I could end up badly hurt.

when all seemed lost, out of nowhere Jean realized the damage she had done, she seemed to have woken up from a heavy trance. She looked around scared and with a special grimace of grief towards where Raven's body was. She couldn't help it and flew off in a hurry after muttering sorry. Apparently Charles had restored Jean's mind to normal.

With Raven's body in Hank's arms and Kurt and Scott holding Peter we rushed to the mansion urgently. I held Peter's hand in anguish, hoping that he would recover and that it was nothing too serious. When we got there Peter was taken to a parlor to put him on a gurney while the others prepared Raven's funeral. I stayed with Storm sitting on a bench. I was nervous so she put a hand on my shoulder and comforted me saying that everything would be fine. So much had happened in such a short time, and I didn't know who to feel worse for than Raven or my boyfriend, Peter.

Suddenly I saw Peter come out on a stretcher. I immediately stood up and ran to where they were taking him. His face was destroyed, he was wearing a bandage on his head and blood was coming out of his nose, apparently broken.

"Peter..!"

He turned making an effort to look at me, his eyes seemed to ask for help. They quickly took him to the infirmary. I took a step and stretched out my arm as if trying to catch my boyfriend who was walking away hurt. Storm stopped me by grabbing my hand as if she was afraid I might run away. Seeing him like this was the straw that broke the camel's back and I began to cry inconsolably collapsing in Ororo's arms.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine, at least he's still alive"

She rubbed my back as she wrapped me in a warm hug, but I couldn't calm down. I felt terribly guilty, if I had used my powers before Peter wouldn't be in the infirmary now.

The days that followed were hard, we didn't know anything about Jean and Raven's absence felt present like a heavy shadow loaded with misery. Peter was still being cared for in the infirmary but visitors were still not being accepted. I bite my nails all the time walking from here to there in my room. From time to time Scott or Kurt would visit me and tell me that I don't have to worry about anything and that I could see Peter soon.

and indeed it was. One day I was trying to study without much success when someone knocked on my door, it was Scott. He seemed to have a confident smile and that could only mean one thing, I nervously asked him.

"Yeah, you can go see him"

I felt a weight lift off of me, hugged Scott and ran to the infirmary. Upon arrival they told me that Peter was resting but that I could see him for a few minutes. Nervously I entered the room and saw my boyfriend lying on the table with a bandage on his nose, on his head and a bruise on his eye. I felt my stomach drop but I tried to keep my composure so it wouldn't show. I sat near him in a chair. Despite the injuries he seemed to sleep peacefully, I couldn't help but put my hand on his caressing him. Feeling the warmth of my hand Peter woke up confused. He slowly turned his head with a wince and looked at me with tired eyes. I smiled at him as best I could but my eyes were starting to get wet again.

"Hey.. Elsa"

Peter always made fun of me by calling me that. I couldn't help but shake my head and laugh, but soon the laughter turned into crying and lowering my head I started to sob, all the emotions that I had experienced those days came together and came out in the form of tears.

Peter looked at me with a frown.

"Please, don't cry."-said almost in a whisper

But I couldn't help it, I grabbed my face with my hands. Peter made an effort to reach out a hand and put it on my arm with a pitiful whimper. Noticing this, I quickly held his hand, fearing that he might hurt himself by trying too hard.

"Baby, I'm ok"-he said

Peter went to great lengths to pretend everything was fine when he had a broken nose and a bruised eye. But that filled me with tenderness, he just didn't want to worry me

"Shh..don't say anything, you have to regain your strength"

I took his hand and kissed the back of it and he smiled. Peter may have a super quick regeneration ability but this time it will definitely take him a little longer to recover. When visiting hours were over, I promised Peter that I would visit him every day and bring him something different so he wouldn't get bored.

I went to see Peter the next day, carrying a Walkman with his favorite playlist. I sat in the same chair with the walkman hidden in my back

"Hi sweetie"

Peter looked at me with a glint of excitement in his eyes and a small smirk.

"Hi doll"

"guess what i brought for you today"

Peter just shrugged slowly so I showed him the walkman and his smile widened. I got up and put him the headphones on giving him a sweet little kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Ow"

His nose was still hurt, I laughed softly and apologized. Luckily now Peter could move a little more so he grabbed the walkman and picked a song at random. Some songs that I had chosen were songs that we used to listen to together.

"Listen to number 5, I know you'll like it"

He obeyed me. His serious face little by little lit up and transformed into an open smile, almost a laugh.

"I can't believe you added this song" he laughed "Sweet dreams are made of this.."

Of course, I had to add his favorite song that he made me listen to exhaustion only to look at me funny when I hummed it distractedly. The minutes passed and once again I had to leave Peter alone but promising to return another day.

The days passed and I brought him more and more things to entertain himself. One day I went to a comic book store and bought his favorites.

Peter was already waiting impatiently for me to know what I had brought him this time, when I entered my boyfriend looked at me anxiously like a child waiting for his Christmas present. Patiently he waited for me to sit in my chair like a learned ritual and asked me what I had brought him this time.

"You have to guess, love"

That was a kind of game that we had between the two of us, every time I brought him something he had to guess. If I noticed that it was difficult for him to guess the object, I would leave clues for him. If he didn't guess it, sometimes he made me beg a little until he begged me to give it to him. And if he guessed as a prize, he would not only give him the object but also a kiss.

"Mmh is my favorite drink?" I shook my head.

"Ok, ok. Did you bring me a gameboy?"

"Sorry, not today"

Peter put a finger to his forehead trying to think by closing his eyes. I laughed at his face.

"Damn, babe give me a clue." Peter made a piteous pout.

"Okay, the object behind my back is smooth and is something children often read"

Peter frowned and stared at nothing, confused and thinking, I had to stifle a laugh. Suddenly he opened his eyes in surprise.

"I know!, you brought me a comic!!"

"Ding, ding, ding!. You got it"

I gave the comic to Peter giving him a tender kiss as well, who started clapping like a child. It did me good to see him happy. I knew how hard it was for him to be on a stretcher without being able to use his powers. That's why I did my best so that he wouldn't get bored and disobey by escaping from the infirmary.

As the days passed Peter was recovering, his bruise had completely disappeared and several bandages had been removed. Even he could already sit up straight on the stretcher. This time I brought him something special, something he had always wanted but for some reason could never have. Even as a good kleptomaniac that he was, he had tried to steal it from stores without much success.

"How is my favorite boy?"

Peter sat grinning on his stretcher.

"Very bad, I have abstinence from your kisses"

I rolled my eyes laughing as our usual guessing game began.

"Alright, I guess you brought me a water pistol today" He said with his arms crossed and raising an eyebrow smiling

"No, but you were close, it's a toy"

"An action figure?"

"Nope"

Peter ran out of ideas and began listing all the toys he knew.

"A robot? A ship? A drone? Come on doll, what is it?. He grumbled angry

"You give up? Oh then I guess I can't give it to you"

Peter leaned back on the stretcher pouting and grunting, I couldn't help but laugh and so he wouldn't get mad at me I showed him the toy. When Peter saw it his face went from a frustrated grimace to a gaping ecstasy and surprise. What he had brought her was a lit red remote-controlled car. But it wasn't just any car, it was a limited edition toy that Peter had seen in an ad when he was a kid.

"NO WAY! WHERE DID YOU GET IT?!"

"At a garage fair, I exchanged it for another object" I said laughing while my boyfriend took the car and began to play

I saw him happy as a loving mother watching her son grow. Suddenly, Peter stopped playing and looked at me seriously, stretching out his arms as if he wanted to hug me.

"And my kiss?"

I approached him laughing happily and planted a kiss on his lips taking his face in my hands

That afternoon I was trying to figure out what gift I could bring to Peter. I didn't know when they were going to discharge him so I had no choice but to keep looking for things that he liked. I didn't know what to give him anymore, I had gone to convenience stores, thrift stores, even his favorite fast food joints.

I went to my room to try to find something I could do with my own hands, it would be a different gift, handmade but I was sure he would like it. I rummaged through my desk opening and closing drawers without finding anything that would help me. I turned my room on its head without being able to find something that would work for Peter. In a bad mood I left there walking through the halls and asking my friends what I could give him. No one gave me an answer to my liking.

It was already time for the visit to the infirmary and I had nothing to bring him. Disappointed, I had no choice but to go to where Peter was and tell him that I hadn't brought him anything. I could already imagine his face, at first he would laugh thinking it was a joke, but then he would look at me disappointed but not before trying to hide it by telling me that it didn't matter. I hated to disappoint Peter. With these thoughts in my head I distractedly headed to the infirmary but upon entering the room I had not realized that Peter's stretcher was empty. I had my head down and that's why I didn't realize it but when I raised it and my eyes searched the place I worried. Where the hell had Peter gone? Didn't he take it anymore and ran away?

Cursing under my breath I started looking everywhere for him nervously.. Peter could be very impulsive and do stupid things when he got bored. I went to other rooms in the infirmary in case they had transferred him but I couldn't find him. Nervous, I ran through the entire mansion looking for him. In the end I was standing at the entrance of the mansion staring out and biting a nail concentrated. Damn it, where could he have gone?

"Shit, shit ,shit. You only had one rule and you broke it, idiot. Why didn't you stay in the infirmary? Don't you realize you're hurt, you sewer slime?"

If I were in a cartoon, smoke would already be coming out of my ears. Suddenly a voice behind me froze my blood

"Uhh, do you talk to your mother with that mouth, baby?"

I turned around in disbelief, there in front of me was Peter with his usual clothes looking at me with mockery. I yelled with excitement and hugged him around his neck as he picked me up and spun me around until I laughed.

when he put me down I gave him a little hit on his shoulder and told him angrily

"Where the fuck were you??, I looked for you everywhere"

"First of all ouch, and secondly the nurse released me this morning. She told me that my wounds are healed, what do you think?"

Peter spread his arms wide and spun around as if he were posing in a new set of clothes. I smiled and gave him a passionate kiss that he returned around my waist.

"You could have told me, couldn't you?"

"Sorry, babe it was a surprise. I also wanted to see how you got angry, it's adorable"

"Peter.."

"Sorry"

Peter cleared his throat. "Speaking seriously, I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me these days, even if it wasn't necessary. It's nice that you went to the trouble of entertaining a loser like me."

Sometimes Peter called himself a loser even though he really wasn't. In fact, sometimes I didn't know if he did it on purpose to pity me and manipulate me into doing him a favor or if he actually thought that way about himself. This time he seemed sincere.

I put a finger to his lips shutting him up."It was a pleasure to have done all that for you"

He smiled puffing out his chest with pride.

"And you already know that you are my favorite loser"-I winked mischievously

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olsenmyolsen · 1 year

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On The Inside With Elizabeth Olsen (Elizabeth Olsen x Female Reader)

The Farmer's Daughter - (A WandaNat Story)

Maroon - A Collection of Marvel Women One Shots - Some 18+

Dark Maroon - A Collection of Dark Marvel Women One Shots - All 18+

Short n' Sweet - A Collection of Real Person One Shots/Ficlets - Some 18+

Completed Requests - Some 18+

⭐︎Request Are CLOSED⭐︎

This Is Me Trying - (A Y/N Parker Spider-Woman X Kate Bishop Story)

Vampire Things

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Because Of You

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Ups and Downs

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

imgonnagetyouback

Part One

Part Two

Gamer!Wanda

First things first... just be nice!! If you're here I assume it's to read fan-fic just like the rest of us. I typically only write fem!reader and gn!reader only. I will write smut, angst, fluff (we all need it) age difference tropes, fictional step-cest, and more. Hard NO's - What I won’t write is pedophilia, scat play, incest. If you have ANY questions about what I will and won't write please message me. It's honestly just too much to write it all here.

Wattpad

AO3

pintrest

Love you all!

Thank you so much for reading and taking the time for just a little piece of me!

dividers by@/cafekitsune & @/benkeibear (go check them out)

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pvri-more · 2 years

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The Ghost of You (One Shot)

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader.

Warnings: Mentions of drugging, grief, overall very emotional and dark theme.

Word Count: 3,398

Summary: Instead of destroying the darkhold, Wanda is captured by S.H.I.E.L.D and taken to the Raft prison where she undergoes a series of mental and physical torture. Under the influence of sedatives, she starts developing hallucinations that become so blurred in reality that she can no longer tell what’s real and what’s fake. So when you, her girlfriend who is presumed dead, appears inside her cell, causes Wanda to have a difficult time deciphering whether you are really there. Are you real or just another figment of her lonely imagination?

A/N: I can’t believe it took me just about a year to finally finish a piece of work! But here we are! I hope you like it, I hope it’s good & I hope you like them to pull at your heart strings hehe. And if you’d like some songs to go along with this just like I did with my fic, listen to the two songs that inspired this one shot: “Hallucinate” by The Devil Wears Prada and “Fever Dream” by Hurtwave! xx

————

The darkhold had infected Wanda’s body like an incurable virus. It flowed through her veins so cunningly, so quietly. As if it were sentient. It lurked in the corners of her bones, waiting for her to become too exhausted to fight it off. Until it enveloped her completely, until she wanted it ... until she wanted it to kill her.

So in the throes of her infection, Wanda reigned terror across anyone & anything that dared to get in her way. Her endless pits of depression remolded into tall mountains of rage. Her eyes were glazed over with evil’s cloak, her mind infected with it’s seductive spell and her veins intoxicated with the addictive elixir only wickedness could sell.

Eventually, there was no more Wanda. Only the vengeful Scarlet Witch.

If she couldn’t be happy, nobody could. And as her malevolence grew, so did her body count. She snapped superheroes in half like they were pencils, manipulated minds and distorted reality in any way that would satisfy and took innocent lives in the process.

It went on and on, until a moment of humanity breached through Wanda’s sick and poisoned mind. A moment where she finally got a glimpse of what she’d done, of the ones she’s lost and what they’d think of her now. Her vulnerable state was only a flash but it was long enough for S.H.E.I.L.D to finally reach her, after struggling for some time now, and take her into captivity.

The last thing she remembered was a pinch in her neck & the world going dark.

The silence rang through Wanda’s ears in the similar way it did when the bomb went off that peaceful night in Sokovia.

The incessant, mind numbing high pitched hum of loneliness's lullaby was the only sound she had heard since the last time one of the guards opened the door, dropped a tray of food and left. Even so, that eerie ringing was better than the voices in her head.

It had been quiet for so long. So long that she had no recollection of how much time had gone by since she was first placed here. All she knew was that she was in this dark cement room at the Raft prison and the only reason she even knew where she was was because she had been here before. Same song and dance of being kept under surveillance, sedated and trapped. When she first got here she noticed how cold it was, but now, she couldn’t feel anything anymore.

In the time that she had been here, the daily shots they administered to render her powers useless were taking their toll. Fighting through it got harder with each injection. They even went as far as to place a shock collar around her neck, just like they did before, like she was some kind of animal ... a beast. After all, the darkhold was, for all intents and purposes, a beast. It made her forget her good side, it made her a shell of who she used to be and it was determined to do everything to remain in control. It didn’t matter anymore how much she missed her old self, vengeance tasted too good and Wanda was unwilling to part with the one thing left that made her feel alive. Revenge.

So for god only knows how long, Wanda’s mind, body & soul were laced with a conflicting cocktail of tranquilizing liquids and stimulating magic. No amount of sedation could numb the ache yet it was efficient enough to keep her powers at bay.

It drove her mad. Writhing in pain as her mind switched back and forth between good and evil. Twitching like a television losing it’s signal. Every jerk, every scream, every violent urge... it was destroying her.

She was losing.

As the drugs penetrate into Wanda’s brain, slowly deteriorating whatever control she had left, she developed hallucinations. Her once physical battle now manifests mentally & it was getting harder & harder for her tell what was real & what was fake.

In these hallucinations, sometimes all of her horrors would mutate & create one terrifying scene that she couldn’t escape from. They preyed on her over & over again. Those moments were unbearable to the point she swore they would kill her. The pain, the guilt, the hopelessness, it was causing physiological symptoms.

She was in the depths of agony.

But other times, things weren’t always so bad. Some of the hallucinations brought her brief moments of peace and it was those moments that she believed kept her alive.

Precious moments would grace themselves into her lonely world. Visions of laughter, warmth and love. All the things she had forgotten.

She’d see home outside the one tiny window just below the ceiling. Gathering the strength to get up and look, she’d see her Sokovia in springtime. All the beauty it had to offer, including a young Wanda & Pietro running in the swaying meadows. She’d watch as the sun would kiss their skin so delicately that it felt like a comforting hug. The hallucinations were so real she could feel the warmth, smell the wildflowers and hear the sweet, tenor voice of her brother again.

Other days the barren room she withered away in would transform into her bedroom at the Avengers tower where she’d be laying contently on her bed. In the glow of a sunset afternoon, she’d turn her head and there you’d be, right next to her laughing along as you shared a memory. In these visions Wanda could never recall what the stories were about but it didn’t matter. Your mere presence was enough to pump the blood through her veins again. She just wished it could do the same for you. To bring you back to her so she didn’t have to watch you dissolve in the mist, slipping through her hands in the sunrise.

Wanda missed you so much.

You had died a year ago, caught in the crossfire of a senseless battle just like her brother. Except she was away on a mission, not there to protect you like she always promised. She didn’t get to say goodbye. And with the world only getting worse despite these battles for justice, you had died for nothing. Your death was her final straw and subsequently what lead her to the place she is now.

Wanda couldn’t let go of you. All the unfinished business and the moments you never got to have ate her alive. She needed you. Even when her mind was clear, she’d close her eyes & see you there. You always saw the good in her. You saw past her troubled mind to see the heart that ached to feel anything other than pain. Inside this powerful being was a little girl screaming for relief. A little girl who lost everything, and lost herself along the way. Even when she didn’t deserve it, you always stood by her. And now here she was, imprisoned for her unforgivable crimes. The same kind that took you from her.

You were the only thing that made me good, Wanda thought as she looked down to her blackened finger tips.

Completely overcome with grief, Wanda crumbled in misery, crying herself into exhaustion. With her head dropped down in front of her, her drowsy eyes began to flutter closed. Succumbing to the desire for rest, Wanda let her mind fly away.

“Wanda?” She heard your voice quiver from the corner of the room. “What happened to you?”

Wanda jolted at the sound & her eyes immediately searched for the angelic sound of your voice.

There you were, right here in front of her.

Wanda had enough hallucinations to make her lose count, and she had admittedly used her powers to mold you out of the mist before, but this was different. None of them were as real and as tangible as you are right now.

“Y/n?” Wanda’s voice cracked in awe. Her tear stained eyes traced over you feverishly, as if you’d disappear any second, just like you always did at the end of all her previous dreams.

You rushed over to Wanda’s weakened body with that familiar urge to protect her. Crouching down in front of her so you were at eye level, your eyes finally met after what felt like a million years.

Wanda immediately lifted her shaking hands to your face. Cupping it gently, as not to turn you back to dust. She brushed her thumbs across your cheek before running her fingers through your hair, pushing both sides behind your ears and stopping to cradle the back of your head. Her touch was as loving as it was inquisitive. She was in disbelief. In all her other hallucinations she could never feel you as solid matter the way she could now. She needed to feel your skin, to feel your bones, to ensure that you were in fact really here.

“You’re real” she whispered, bewildered. “How are you here? How did you get in here?” Wanda couldn’t understand. You were dead.

As Wanda’s infected mind wandered trying to solve this mystery, it dawned on her ... she wasn’t there when you supposedly died. She didn’t see it happen. What if Hydra had taken you the way they’d taken others? What if you were alive the whole time? A glimmer of hope had pumped it’s way through her veins, reviving her.

“Don’t worry about that now. Wanda, tell me what happened? What are you doing here?” You dodged her question, it was irrelevant in comparison to the Wanda you saw in front of you.

“I-”, feeling overwhelmed by reality of what she’d done once again, Wanda let out a sob, “I’m so sorry.” Her voice was weak & raspy from the lack of use.

“For what baby?” You pleaded. Your eyes scanned over her trying to make sense of it all.

Wanda looked thin, you thought, almost concave. Her skin was pale and her eyes were sunken and almost completely void of life. You noticed the collar and the track marks from needles on her skin and as you came to the realization, your body became weak.

“What are they doing to you?” you asked softly.

There was a pause while Wanda’s mind scrambled to take in this moment, while also debating whether to explain what she had done. Eventually, she did just that. She traced back every ugly act, desperate to try and release herself of the pain. You just sat there and listened.

“I didn’t mean to” Wanda begged. Her voice was tightening with emotion. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.” You watched as the water flowed from her eyes like waterfalls. Her eyes were drawn to the floor in shame, causing you to fall apart with her.

Instinctually, you leaned forward onto your knees and whisked her into your arms, placing one hand around her body and the other to the back of her head, leading it into the crook of your neck.

“I know” you whispered to her comfortingly.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t astounded—disturbed even, by what Wanda shared with you. It was chilling and scary and completely uncharacteristic of the Wanda you fell in love with. Sure, Wanda had a dark side and she wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t evil. She was just a little girl who lost her way. Ultimately, it didn’t matter what Wanda did, the longer you sat here watching her dissolve into nothing, made you unable to see her as anything other than the woman you knew ... incapable of seeing her as anything but your Wanda. You knew her, because she was a part of you. In this life and in every life. The two of you were connected so firmly that it was as if you were feeling every inch of her sorrow with her.

As Wanda’s tears subsided and her body regained stability, you separated yourself from her in order to look at her once again.

Wanda held on to your hands tightly, unwilling to let them leave her again. “I’m not a monster y/n.” she kept saying these things as if you ever thought differently.

“I know” you reassured her, brushing your hand lovingly against her cheek.

There was a slight pause before you spoke again, an idea coming to mind. “Come here.”

Lifting to your feet, you tugged Wanda’s hands upwards, signaling for her to follow your action. Wanda stood up, her eyes looking into yours and flickering back and forth with curiosity.

In another short pause, you stayed there looking into her eyes. You looked beyond their surface and noticed the way they flashed subtly between a Wanda green and a Scarlet red. It was as if two souls lived inside her and each one was fighting for dominance.

She was in complete inner turmoil. Powerless to the torture of her mind.

You couldn’t stand to see her like this, killing herself slowly.

“Show me “Wanda”” you finally spoke. If she was ever going to heal from this, she needed to find herself again.

And like a moth to a flame, Wanda did exactly as you asked. With alluring swirls of red, she brought life into this desolate room. Instead of waking nightmares, she formed wonders of beauty. A speckling of stars graced the ceiling and the ground turned from solid plaster to a soft bed of grass. A blanket appeared beneath both of your feet and in one swift movement, Wanda took your hand and laid you down beside her. In that moment, it was Wanda and you as you were before it all went bad. Before you disappeared from her world.

The sceneries continued to change. From a peaceful beachfront sunrise to a cozy autumn date. Where you talked and talked, never seeming to run out of things to share. From both of you cuddled in a chair at a Christmas party, watching the blizzard blow outside the window, to a night-in cooking dinner together. You laughed and laughed, until your stomach’s burned with such joyful pain.

Wanda was making up for lost time. Recreating all the things you had done and creating all the things that should’ve been. Wanda showed you her light, her humor, her chivalry, her heart. All the good she had lost. You wanted her to see that she still had her humanity. You wanted her to see that she didn’t die with the darkhold.

Then, Wanda took you to this abandoned ballroom in Sokovia. Back before the war, when her home still breathed with life.

Hand-in-hand, you both looked up and around at the elegance of Elizabethan Baroque architecture. Although run down and forgotten, it still beamed with a beauty you were in awe of. The interior was palace-like. White marble walls adorned with dainty patterns and detailed carvings. All housed within a ceiling so high it felt like a cathedral. Massive windows had been broken, leaving the room feeling like it was half enclosed, half outdoors. And as you walked through, your footsteps crunched over scattered rubble which echoed loudly with every step.

“I used to sneak away and come here when I was a kid.” Wanda told you as she watched the memories play out in front of her.

“Little mischievous Wanda” you laughed, poking fun at her rebellious ways starting so young. She chuckled back, unable to deny it.

“Why’d you come here?” You added, genuinely curious to know more about her younger self.

“I don’t know. I stumbled upon it one day. Even though it’s massive, it was tucked away in an area I rarely ventured out to. I snuck through the window one day and just kept coming back. It was my hideout.” There was a break in her answer as she continued to look around. “I liked the grandeur of it all. The silence. The way people and their moments used to exist here and now it’s just a symbol for the passage of time.” You knew exactly what she meant.

Wanda guided you to the center of the ballroom floor and wrapped her arms around your neck before the flick of her finger caused a gentle sway of notes to reverberate off these forsaken walls.

Rocking your body slowly, her eyes lingered on yours. In the same way you did with her, Wanda noticed something missing in your eyes. Existence. Like they were becoming see through. And with it, her rose colored veil begins to fall and a piece of her heart crumbling with it once again.

This may not have been completely a hallucination, but it wasn’t completely real either. The drugs had caused illusions similar to dreams but this... this was her own magical doing. She wasn’t sure how she did it but she figured her chaotic mind had made for chaos magic. That her desperation reached it’s peak and stretched her powers to a place they’d never gone before.

She continued, swallowing the lump that was beginning to form. “But I think now I see, it was the way that beauty still existed in it’s sorrow that made me love this place.” You wrapped your arms around her waist and rested your head against her chest, hugging her tightly, knowing this was bigger than the temple you danced in.

You felt her body deflate in your arms as she came to terms with something you didn’t know.

Then she spoke again.

“And how the dead still live in the air that we breathe.” her voice tightened. “they live on in the memories, in the energy of the places they once stood.”

“That they’re never really gone.” you finished for her. In that moment you started to feel funny. Your body felt phantom but your mind was still sharp and that’s when you too had realized that your job here was done. That this wasn’t “real” but instead, a temporary moment existing again. The pieces started fall into place. How you couldn’t remember why or how you were here. It’s because Wanda formed you from her agony, bringing you back to life, just for a moment.

Gradually, the setting you were in begins to disintegrate in thin air and you were back in Wanda’s lonesome cell.

Keeping your position, you both swayed slowly in a painful silence. Both aware of what comes next, but both unwilling to accept it quite yet.

“Is it peaceful in the afterlife?” Wanda asked, almost too quietly to hear, finally speaking her realization out loud. She yearned for some sort of solace.

“Not as peaceful without you.” You paused, trying to console yourself. “But it’s not your time baby.” But just like that, the tears were back and it felt hard to breathe. “You have to let it go. You have to let me go.”

Like a child latching on to their mother, Wanda manages to speak through her choked up state, “Let me go with you.” She knew you were right, that she had to let go of the guilt and at least try to fill endless chasm that came with losing you. She knew you were right about needing to let go of the darkhold so she could live again. But she would still rather be with you.

“I love you Wanda.” is all you could muster. You whispered it into her ear and then kissed her with an ache you can’t describe. It felt like floating, it felt like dying all over again, yet it felt like a first breath.

Wanda knew it was impossible. That no matter how powerful she was, she couldn’t be with you now. She knew that as always, you knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say. Even in the afterlife, you could save her.

She knew that she had to destroy the darkhold. No amount of black magic could make her right inside but there was a world of good that she could do with her gift. This world needed her good. You had always told her that.

“I’m here whenever you need me.” You said, taking one last look into her eyes and placing your hand above her heart to indicate where you’ll be in the meantime.

Placing a chaste kiss to her cheek, you whispered, “I’ll see you again, love.” before fading back into the place between.

————

Tag list: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @wandavisionmoot , @alexia-rmks, @impossibleliv1031

#elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x female reader #fanfic #one shot #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #marvel #mcu #dark #emotional #ghosts

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revengewitch · 10 months

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In the bustling city, Peter Parker is on the brink of a bright future, having secured a spot in one of the region's top universities.

However, when he shares the joyous news with his mentor and father figure, Tony Stark, an unexpected turn of events shrouds Peter's excitement in mystery.

An unforeseen illness linked to his spider DNA forces Peter into Mr. Stark's care, the man does everything he can to heal but Peter's condition just keeps getting worse.

#marvel #mcu #peter parker #tony stark #dark tony stark #peter parker whump #iron dad and spider son #iron dad #irondad and spiderson #spider son #one shot #fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Professional Oversight

Masterlist

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, power imbalance, blackmail, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are noticed for all the wrong reasons. (plus sized reader)

Characters: Helmut Zemo, Brock Rumlow

A note on reader characters:

For clarity, each reader will have a defined nickname when appearing in any installment not their own. This is Scribble.

Note: real life interrupted me

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Donkey love Waffles. Take care. 💖

You stare across the courtyard as you let the spoon stick out of your mouth. You hoped the spring would make the days seem less blurred, maybe bring some excitement to your dull life. You suck the last of the yogurt from the silver and scrape the side of the cup, scooping up the fruit bottom and cream. You savour the last bite, so overly sweet it makes your cheeks twitch.

You tap the empty cup so it makes a hollow noise. You crush it in your hand and stand to toss it in the bin just across from the bench. You sit again and wipe the spoon before you tuck it away, folding it in the kleenex to sink to the bottom of your purse. You sigh and watch a long-necked goose honk at an oblivious pedestrian.

You’re used to it. The sounds, the sights, the latent energy of the university green. You thought it would be better to eat there instead of the stuffy office break room but after a while, it’s just as boring and bleak as the old institutional walls.

You zip up your purse and checked the slender watch on your wrist. Just a little longer before you have to drag yourself back to your shared desk to answer phones and redirect lost students. You don’t hate your job only that it’s all you have. Your life is as fruitless as the used yogurt cup you just tossed away.

You wake up, eat, get ready for work, go to work, eat lunch by yourself amidst a sea of indifferent people, go back to your desk, then wait until it’s time for you to go home, and there, nothing. Just you and the evenings filled with lonely restlessness. You want to do something, anything, but you just can’t figure out what.

You aren’t an interesting person. Plain, at best, with no discernible talent. Friends never flocked to you despite your effort, even as pathetic as those were. You’re always a fleeting thought to other people. You’re kept around so long as you are useful; a study buddy, a wing woman, and occasionally, a shoulder to cry on. But there was rarely any reciprocation in those roles and never anything meaningful enough to call friendship.

You’re distracted from your existential daze by a shadow above you. You look up at the man as he smiles at you. It’s more akin to a leer. That’s odd. He’s odd. Men don’t smile at you, they barely even see you. And he surely doesn’t belong here. Too old to be a student and his jacket too casual to be a professor.

“You mind if I sit?” he asks without greeting. His tone is brusque but unconcerned.

You looked at the empty spot on the bench beside you. You hug your purse and sidle over. You shrug and mumble “sure,” but he's already sitting.

He sits with his legs wide and pushes his shoulders back. He sighs as he stretches out his broad figure. He glances around nonchalantly and leans back with his elbows over the back of the bench. You look at your watch again. What’s a few minutes early?

“You work here?” he asks before you can stand.

You blink and furrow your brow at him then glance around at the green campus. You waver on the bench. You should just walk away but you hate to be rude.

“Uh, yeah?” you answer awkwardly.

“Not that you-- you don’t look young enough to be a student, you know? I had a hard time telling, which is why I asked,” he explains as he turned his palm up, “I wasn’t meaning-- heh, well, you look like a very nice lady, is all.”

You poke your tongue out between your lips and quickly retract it. Your thoughts are racing. You should get back to work and away from this man. He gives you this creepy crawly feeling.

“Brock,” he holds out his hand as your eyes graze the dark five o’clock shadow along his sharp jawline.

You force out your own name and nervously shake his hand. You’re polite, perhaps overly so, but your customer service instinct can’t be repressed. His grip is firm and his hand big enough to cover yours entirely. He lets you go reluctantly and you hook your purse over your arm.

“Sorry, I gotta get back to work--” you stand as the sirens in your head tell you to leave. His grips speckles in your hands, throbbing in the bones, tingling on your skin.

“That’s too bad,” he says coolly, “maybe I’ll see you around.”

You nod dumbly and step past him. You trod down the path, on your usual route, then stop as your suspicions tug at your mind. You turn back as he remains on the bench, his gaze stuck to you.

“You work here too?” you call back.

He shakes his head and smirks. He doesn’t say anything as you frown. He doesn’t move. He just watches. You turned back to your path and quickly stomp away. You’re unsettled by his presence alone but his assured calmness at being an intruder on campus is even more frightening. Not least of all, his interest in you; always an unexpected trait.

🖊️

After work, you walk across campus without urgency. You fall into autopilot. Your departure trails over its usual route. There’s nothing special awaiting you at your destination; only your couch and a frozen pizza.

Students still loiter and hop up the steps of the buildings on the way to evening classes. You envy them just as you had when you were in their shoes. You were never really one of them. You always felt like you were on the outside looking in. You didn’t find your niche, you just floated along untethered, still lost in the breeze.

The lot you park in is mostly empty. You prefer that one even though it’s a ten minute walk from the building you work in. It’s far from the main row and so you didn’t get caught in a jam on your way out, not until you get to the roundabout near the east entrance.

You stroll along behind the few other cars parked before yours and check your phone for the time. You don’t hear the footsteps as they approach and the dimming sky disguises his shadow. You don't notice any of it until you’re grappled from behind. You’re taken off your feet as a large hand covers your mouth.

Your phone bounces against the tarmac and your bag is flung from your arm. You kick out and flail, whining into the calloused palm as your eyes prickle. You grasp at the thick arms as you’re spun around to face the open trunk. You kicked at the man’s feet as he bends you and shoves you headfirst into the trunk. You try to push yourself out but he’s too strong.

The lid shuts and you roll over to beat on it as you holler. Your heart pounds in your ears and your lungs burned as your voice turns to horrible gasps. Panic drowns you as the engine turns over and the car backs out smoothly.

Oh no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

The suddenness of it all has you dizzy. The man’s scent clings in your nose. You've smelled that before. Your eyes round in the darkness as the tires roll without stopping. No, no, no. That man! The same one on the bench.

You didn’t forget him. You couldn’t. The abnormality, the absurdity of his introduction, was enough to stick in your head. It’s only that you didn’t let yourself believe it was anything but a strange encounter. You know who you are, you know you’re nothing special. Unlike him, you’re not interesting enough to remember.

Or so you thought.

You thump on the lid of the trunk, then the back, screaming. The car doesn’t stop. The man only muffles your voice with the radio. As you continue your assault on the walls of the trunk, he slams on the brakes so that you roll violently into the siding. He does the same several times until you’re quiet and stunned.

Your adrenaline fades to fear as you can only lay in the dark and dread what comes next. The worst scenarios race through your mind but every now and then, your heartbeat spikes again. You have to get out.

Bang, bang, bang, ‘let me out!’

You’re shaken and exhausted but utterly and painfully awake. Whatever comes next, you can’t just put your head down and ignore it. Not like everything else in your life. This is the one thing you have to face, whether you like it or not. You can’t just brush it off, you can’t just forget.

You wanted desperately for something to happen in your dull life but could never conjure a nightmare as real as this.

🖊️

When the engine slows and the axle lurches to a stop, you’re not ready. How could you be ready for any of this? You don’t understand why this is happening to you.

The car shuts off and your heart reaches its paramount. It’s beating so fast you can’t think. You can barely breathe. The car door slams shut and shakes the entire vehicle, making clear that you are overpowered. Footsteps tread over the ground towards the trunk and you steel yourself for the horror that awaits you.

You know his face before you see it. Even as the shadows swallow up his features, you know him. He grabs you by the front of your blazer, hauling you out without a word. He handles you like a stray caught; rough and agitated. You claw helplessly at him and whine.

“Please--”

“Scream one more time,” he spins you and curls an arm around your neck, marching you forward with stunted steps, “and I’ll crush your throat.”

You gurgle and clasp onto hit thick forearm. Your tears well over, though your face is already raw from the waves of terror that poured over in the black of the trunk. Lights wash over you and give some sense to the grounds around you.

You expect an abandoned warehouse or some faraway cabin. Somewhere remote where you’ll never be found. Somewhere you’d be forgotten. Who is there to forget you?

Instead, you make your way up a long walkway before a large mansion. At least compared to your box apartment, it seems as such. Your low heels clack shakingly as the man keeps you firmly hooked. He takes you up the front steps, between replicas of famous status, and lets himself in through the double doors, the brass knockers jiggling with his entrance.

He doesn’t seem the type to live in a place like this. The thought is silly given your circumstance. Your sobs settle to hiccups as your mind wanders to the tedious and unimportant. Is that a genuine Rembrandt on the wall?

“Can you walk on your own or do I keep the leash on?” He snarls.

You gulp and try to nod against his burly muscle, “yes...”

He lets go at the wisp of your agreement. You shudder and pull away from him, not far as you don’t want to instigate him. You cross your arms and look at him, pouting as tears roll to your chin. It is the man from the bench. You knew it but now you’re certain.

“Up,” he points to the left branch of the double staircase.

“Sir, please, why are you doing this--”

“Sir?” He grimaces, “no questions. Just go.”

You snivel and put your head down. You turn stiffly to the staircase and reach for the curled banister. You climb with dread heavy in your heels. Your shoe slips off and you stumble. He growls and lifts you under your shoulders, dragging you up the last few steps.

“Left. Second door on your right,” he commands.

You whimper and hug yourself again. You obey as peruse along the finely decorated walls. The details assure you that whoever’s home this is has a precise eye. There is some familiarity in the style; it reminds you of some of the offices nestled in the heart of the university.

He reaches around you, crowding you against the door as he turns the handle. His breath scalds down your neck. Is he smelling you?

He pushes the door open and snaps his fingers. You enter and look around for an answer. Why are you here? Who has brought you here?

The leather chair behind the desk has its back to you. You can see a man’s dark hair above it. Like some sort of movie, he turns to face you slowly. You unwittingly step back against the other man as you’re struck by the reveal.

“Ah, I was starting to think you got lost,” Helmut Zemo intones as his latent gaze meets your startled one.

His soft brown hair with wisp of silver, the keen way his lips naturally curve, and his dark eyes. He's unmistakable. The vaunted dean of linguistics and language studies is the last face you expect to see.

“Dean?” You murmur dumbly and chuff out several shallow breaths.

“Hello, darling,” he purrs as he sits forward, putting his elbows on his desk, “I trust you had a safe journey.”

“I-- what?” You gasp. You turn to look at the man prowling behind you. “No, he--” you choke as he snarls at you.

You face the dean again. It doesn’t make sense. Why are you here at the dean’s home? You only really know him by his likeness, pasted on every literary publication on campus and hung in the halls across his faculty. You’ve met him once at some lunch but it was that fleeting formal introduction you forget before you’ve even left the event.

“Rumlow, I told you to be gentle with her,” he tuts and shakes his head, “allow me to apologise for my colleagues behaviour. He isn’t the type for sorries.”

You mop your cheeks with your cuffs and sniffle. Your a shaking mess. The other man paces towards the other side of the room. He uncaps the decanter there and pours himself a glass of dark liquor.

“Now, it is rude to serve oneself before a lady,” Zemo snips, “please, she would do well for it.” He turns to you after reproaching his associate; the man he calls Rumlow. “Sit, dear, let us speak civilly before things get... less civil.”

You suck in a quaking breath, “I don’t understand--”

“Sit and I shall explain,” he insists.

You cross the large study and claim the seat across from him. The other man approaches and holds a glass of flat scotch under your nose. The roiling alcohol fumes and makes your eyes water anew. You accept it he loudly slurps his own.

“Thank you, but I...”

“Drink. I believe you will need it.”

The dean’s words draw your attention back to him. You make yourself sip and scrunch up your nose at the taste. You don’t drink. It only gives you a headache.

“Now, I’ve brought you hear because I would like to review your work,” he smirks and goosebumps raise on your skin. Rumlow looms close as Zemo’s tone puts you on edge. “I do enjoy when university staff are so eager to put their work out there.”

You’re confused. What does he mean? You’re not a PhD, you’re no faculty spending hours writing papers on physics, you’re just a registrar’s assistant.

“Ahem, let me just...” he pauses and unfolds a tablet on the desk. He props it up in the case and pulls his glasses down to his nose. He taps the screen and begins to read, “'You can hardly believe it’s real. That you’ve put yourself in this position. There’s no going back now. There is no escape from this man...'” he pauses and looks up at you, waiting for a reaction. Your spine tingles, “let me go on to my favourite passage,” he refocuses on the tablet, “’his rough hands grazed her soft skin, making her shiver, making her whine. He smothers her protests and her breath as he drowns her in a hungry kiss”.”

Again he looks at you. You sink down in chair and turn your attention to the liquor. Oh no. You make yourself drink. You don’t stop until it’s empty. The other man laughs.

“You have a way with prose,” Zemo praises.

“Please,” you choke through the burn, “I... its just stories. They’re meant to be private. It’s...” you bite your lower lip. It still doesn’t make sense. “Why am I here?”

Now both men laugh. You’re the joke. You look between then. Rumlow approaches and you shy away. He takes the empty glass and walks away with it. He clinks it down with his own on the oak bar.

Zemo watches you intently. You rock in the chair. He could’ve fired you in the office, so what is all this?

“I like your hypotheses,” he slithers, “I thought we might test them out. As is the academic way.”

“What?” You pulses thumps in your temples, “what do you--”

Rumlow startles you as he closes his hands around your neck from behind. He hushes you as he squeezes your yipe into a croak. He drags you up to your feet as you writhe and kick out. One of your shoes falls off in your struggle as he lurches you forward.

“You know, fantasy can be such a good outlet for... self-discovery,” the dean stands as his chair rolls out behind him, “but it pales in comparison to the real thing.”

“Please--” you crackle out of your throat as Rumlow squeezes your neck tighter.

“And reality is a writer’s companion. Their work is always better when they have experience to draw on,” he comes around the desk as Rumlow brings you to face him. You can’t help but press yourself to the other man as the dean closes in. “And a creature like you, you’ve never felt desired. That much is clear. It drips from your words. These stories are a plea for more.”

He runs his fingers up the lapel of your blazer and urges it down your shoulders and arms. You quiver as you’re trapped between the two men. You can only stare wide-eyed as you reach back weakly to claw at the bigger man’s jacket. He growls and you quickly retract.

“Now, darling, the fear will only make it all the more... exciting,” he draws out the last word teasingly, “have you not written this one already?”

You whimper as he unbuttons your blouse. You quake as he bares you plain white bra and you quivering stomach. The other man pushes his crotch to you, grinding with a snarl.

“Ah, Rumlow, patience,” Zemo warns as he peels your blouse down your arms, “my colleague can be rather... impulsive.”

Your head swells and spins. This can’t be real. You just can’t believe it. The humiliation of being found out is burned through by the fear coursing in your veins.

“Please,” you eke out again.

“Shhh,” he presses a finger to your lips and toys with the bottom one. “Mmm,” he turns his hand to frame your mouth, “how has no one ever noticed these pretty lips?”

He leans in and kisses you. The other man moves a hand to the back of your neck, pinching so you squirm. Rumlow’s other hand hooks around to cover one side your chest, kneading through the unlined cup as you’re suffocated by Zemo’s mouth.

Zemo purrs and draws back. He licks his lips and hums again. His fingertips crawl down your sides and across your stomach. You squeak and flinch as Rumlow squeezes your neck harder.

“Darling, you can be good, can’t you? I fear you’ve been for too long,” Zemo taunts, “but can my associate let you go? Might we trust that you are to struck with lust that you cannot possibly flee?”

You suck in air and babble. You only want the pain to stop. You nod, “yes...”

“Yes, Dean,” he corrects and sends a look to Rumlow.

The vice falls away from your neck, instead tugging at the hook of your bra. Zemo’s gaze falls to your tits and he purrs. He fondles you brazenly, running his thumbs over your nipples as the point through the thin fabric.

“So plain one must appreciate the simple beauty,” he squeezes and leans in to kiss along your cleavage.

You bra slackens and he lets go to let it slip down. Rumlow untangle it from your arm as Zemo gropes one side of your chest and seals his lips around your nipple. You moan and the air turns static at the vocal betrayal.

Rumlow laughs and his hand spreads across the other side of your chest. He rolls your nipple harshly, tweaking as you whine. His hand falls down and he feels along your saft tummy. He growls as he slaps your ass with his other hand. You jolt and Zemo’s mouth pops off your tit.

“Delectable,” he snarls and gives a nip to your flesh.

Rumlow yanks down the elastic of your plain slacks. The cheap sort you order online. Your panties slip down halfway as he forces the fabric past your thighs. You reach to brace Zemo’s shoulder without thinking, feeling as if you might tip over.

He touches your elbow as he bends to once more teethe and tease your tits. He bounces them then crushes his face between them. You stare down in shock, still paralysed in disbelief.

Rumlow rolls your panties down your ass, your ankles bound up in the gathered wool and cotton. He shifts and lowers himself to his knees. He covers your ass with his large hands and you waver on your feet. He pulls your cheeks apart and snarls again. The man sounds like an animal.

You yelp as he pushes his face into your ass and his tongue swipes along your tight hole. Oh god! Oh! Your muscles knot and coil and you hug Zemo’s head to keep from tipping between them. You reach one arm back as you arch your back and latch onto the other man’s shoulder.

You drone out a startled but sultry moan. It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. You haven’t felt this before. Another’s touch. Another’s hunger. You puff out shallow gasp as you’re caught in the storm of warring sensations. Your fear dissipates as you’re overcome by the slow build of please.

You close your eyes as you try to pretend it’s just one of your stories. One of the many written fantasies you used to tamp down that need for desire. For this! Even alone, even your own touch, could not ease the longing that needles inside you.

“Darling,” Zemo growls as he kneels in turn and grips your hips, doting on your stomach. He makes your imperfections feel perfect as he worships you with his mouth.

Rumlow lets out another growl as he laps and his finger tickles up to meet his tongue. You squeal as he pokes his fingertip inside of you, the scalding intrusion tingling in your thighs. It hurts but in a way that you want more. Without a thought, you lean back, urging him deeper into your ass.

Zemo traces along your pelvis and over the patch of curly hair. His fingers wander between your legs, nudge them apart and he toys with your clit. You quiver as he rolls over your bud, flicking and swirling as you slicken. You feel the blood swelling at his touch.

He leans forward on the heel of one hand and tilts his head up, delving into your folds. He trails his hand down your thigh and sucks on your clit as he purrs. Rumlow pulls his finger in and out of your ass as you tighten around him, your walls pulse at their duality.

Your stomach coils and your insides ripple. A tightness bounds you up as you puff out heavily and spasm through the sudden release of tension. You grip Zemo’s hair, forgetting the man has more than a physical hold over you, your other hand curling on Rumlow’s shoulder. You cum with a warbling yawl as you throw your head back.

Neither man stops until you’re a shaking mess. Until your legs are so slack that you lean back on the man behind you and your whole body threatens to fold over. Rumlow slides his finger free and Zemo wipes his wet lips up your pelvis before he sits back on his heels.

The move you as you pant loudly. You have no strength left to resist them. You’re strewn across the leather chaise that sits mirror to the desk at the other end of the room. The men circle you as your head lolls and you lay naked but for one heel still on your foot.

They undress without a word between them. It’s clear this is planned. That they have every single second of the night calculated. You can only get through it.

As Zemo reveals his furry chest, your cheeks raze with fire. You’re embarrassed more to see the dean like this than for him to see you. You turn your face away only as Rumlow stands even more bare.

His chest is covered in coarse black hair that trails down to his pelvis. You gasp at the sight of his rigid length bobbing before him. His thighs are corded with thick muscle and his stomach tightens as he steps closer.

Your turn your head again and nearly squeal at Zemo. Slighter than the other man he is no less eager to have you. As he nears, you curl into yourself.

They don’t let you disappear or detach. Rumlow grabs you, lifting you off the leather, and takes your places across the chaise.

Zemo guides you, something in his hand. You can’t keep up with any of it. He turns you to face the other man, nestling his chin into your shoulder as he holds himself flush with you. He sways you and he presses the shape between the top of your cheeks and squirts coolness down your ass.

He tosses the bottle onto the chaise and it bounces to rest at the end. He rubs the lube around your hole and dips his fingers in, once, twice, three times. He nuzzles you and moves you closer to the leather bench.

Rumlow reaches for you. Both men guide you over his prone body. You’re made to straddle him with your back to him. He grips his dick and taps the tip on your ass, sliding between your cheeks as he wets himself with the lube. Zemo grabs it and reaches around you. Another squirt adds to the wetness.

Rumlow pushes his tip against your ring. You yelp and try to pull away. He grabs your shoulder and holds you in place, stretching you around him slowly. You shake at the deep and fervent agony that radiates up your back.

Zemo coos at you as he strokes your cheek. He climbs up on the chaise as Rumlow drops his legs over the sides. He sits before you, coaxing you as the other man eases you onto his dick. You grit your teeth and cling to the dean’s wrists as he kisses your forehead.

“It’s alright, darling, you’re doing good,” he praises and pets your head, “just a little more, mm?” You sink down another inch and whimper, “a little more,” he repeats. When at last you bottom out, tears spring fresh down your face. “Very good, darling.”

“She’s tight,” Rumlow snarls and starts to rock you, “holy shit, she’s fucking--”

“Language,” Zemo girds as he continues to stroke your face, “you hear that, darling? You are so good. Hm? He likes you.”

“Weirdo,” Brock mutters but keeps you moving.

Zemo runs a hand down your body. A tide rolls through you at the soft graze of flesh, and he once more finds your clit. You’re overly sensitive and so full already. He toys with you as you pout out shallow pants. He slowly lays you back as Rumlow takes you across his torso.

Zemo dips his fingers into your cunt and out again, smearing around your slickness. As his eyes fixate on your cunt, you close your own, hiding beneath your lids. The other man continues to rock from beneath you, stretching you to your limit.

As Zemo drags his hand from your cunt, the chaise shifts with his weight. He moves closer, draping your legs around him as he slides his tip along your entrance. He pushes along your folds, wetting himself as you quiver, then aligns himself again. He forces his tip inside, just the head, and lingers.

He raises himself and bends over you as your muscles tug with tension. Rumlow grunts from below as Zemo bends over to kiss you and inches further inside. You nearly cough into his mouth as he gets deeper and deeper. Oh, god, you don’t know if you can take it.

Rumlow brings his hands around to kneads your tits, his hips tilting as the other bottoms out in your cunt. They both groan as if they can fill your fullness. You throw your arms around Zemo and gnash your teeth, mewling and moaning as you sink your nails into his back.

He kisses along your chin and cheeks as he starts to thrust. Long, languid, and calm. It has you on fire as the other man matches his tempo. A torturous teasing rhythm that has you writhing and whimpering.

You’re crushed between them, bodies sweaty and sticking, the friction of hair and skin, of saliva and need. Your head lolls as Zemo nips and sucks as Zemo nips and sucks at your throat, a hand snaking under your ass, basking in the feel of you as nails graze tender flesh.

A roughness from below as Rumlow bucks his hips harder, plunging deeper, breathing across your scalp as he grunts and growls. His pinches and gropes your chest as your spine curves wantingly. You succumb to your basest desires, to the fantasies you fall asleep to, the very same that you put to paper. It’s horrid but it’s oh so delightful, being used and bruised and tortured until you just can’t think.

“That’s it, darling, you see how natural it is,” Zemo purrs as he quickens, “how you give yourself over to your purpose. You always knew you would...” he speaks between stolid groans, “those weren’t only stories...” he cradles your head and lifts it, looking deep into your eyes as he ruts into you, the man below you matching his time, “you were begging for this.”

Your eyes roll back and you cum again. You feel something inside you snap, like a dam breaking with the pressure of a deluge, you gush out around the men, squeezing and twitching until you are hollow. Yet they don’t stop. They keep going.

Rumlow sits up as Zemo moves with him, bringing you into his lap. The man behind grips your shoulder as his pelvis claps against your ass and the one before you sits back as you shake around him. He holds your head up as it threatens to wobble on your neck.

You orgasm again. Your lashes flutter, your heart too. Every part of you is pulsing. Their gristling, grinding voices storm in your skull, almost maddening as their bodies sandwich yours.

“Shittttt,” Rumlow drawls and bends his head forward, biting into your shoulder as he empties himself in you. He quakes as slows and sits back, twitching as he keeps you around him.

Zemo sighs as you feel his own release. His hips rock subtly as he cums and holds you close, his eyes roving down to watch you tremble. When at last you’re still, the tremors do not fade. He grazes his knuckles down your stomach and you moan.

“Shall we try that sweet mouth?” Zemo brushes long you lower lips.

“Fuck yeah,” Rumlow growls, causing the other man’s eyes to glint.

He might pretend to be proper but dean has proven himself just as sinister as any man; in reality or fiction alike.

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wandaslittlelove · 6 months

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What would you all like to see for Destined next?

I’m debating on a one shot of a day in bunny’s and Wanda’s life after bunny has given in.

Or the next part of the story that may contain smut

Both of these will be written anyways just want to see what people want first

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keycomicbooks · 4 months

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Witchblade Wolverine #1 One Shot (2004) Eric Basaldua Variant

#Witchblade #Wolverine #1 One Shot (2004) #EricBasaldua Variant, #ChrisClaremont Writer, Eric Basaldua Artist Father of the X-Men Chris Claremont writes this special tale that starts out with Wolverine and Witchblade-wielder Sara Pezzini getting married...and then gets crazier from there! SAVE ON SHIPPING COST - NOW AVAILABLE FOR LOCAL PICK UP IN DELTONA, FLORIDA https://www.rarecomicbooks.fashionablewebs.com/Witchblade%20Wolverine.html#1 #TopCow #RareComicBooks #KeyComicBooks #MarvelComics #MCU #MarvelUniverse #KeyIssue #WitchbladeWolverineCrossover

#Witchblade Wolverine #1 One Shot (2004) Eric Basaldua Variant #Rare Comic Books #Key Comic Books #DC Comics #DCU #DC #Marvel Comics #MCU #Marvel #Marvel Universe #DC Universe #Dynamite Entertainment #Dark Horse Comic Books #Boom #IDW Publishing #Image Comics #Now Comics

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shambelle97 · 2 years

Photo

Recuperare lo Scettro della Mente all’interno dell’HYDRA si era rivelato nientemeno che il prezzo da pagare per la salvaguardia dell’intera umanità.

Dopo aver ricavato la pericolosa intelligenza artificiale situata dentro il manufatto, Ultron non avrebbe perso l’occasione propizia per ricreare un mondo a sua immagine e somiglianza.

Riuscirono ad intercettarlo nei pressi di un magazzino alle prese con un noto trafficante d’armi.

In preda ad uno scatto d’ira, Ulysses Klaue rovinò giù dalle scale a causa dell’amputazione al braccio sinistro.

Detestava essere paragonato all’illustre miliardario.

“Figlio mio! Vuoi rompere il nostro legame?”

Proferì Stark in tono sarcastico.

“Se proprio devo...”

L’androide lasciò la frase a mezz’aria per via della replica espressa dal Dio del Tuono.

“Nessuno romperà niente.”

Fu un intervento deciso il suo: tuttavia Ultron fu lesto a ribattere alle sue parole.

“Non c'è frittata se non rompi le uova!”

Esclamò enfatico l'avversario.

“Mi hai tolto le parole di bocca.”

Aggiunse stupefatto l'inventore, quasi basito in verità.

“Ahhh molto spiritoso, Signor Stark: si sente a casa, qui?”

Esordì sarcasticamente Pietro Maximoff in compagnia della gemella.

Il giovane dalla chioma argentea alluse al suo passato in maniera disarmante, venendo corretto dallo stesso robot.

“Siete ancora in tempo per ripensarci.”

Avvisò Captain America, non affatto desideroso di inutili spargimenti di sangue.

“Oh, lo faremo.”

Proclamò ironica la strega, serrando le labbra.

“So che avete sofferto.”

Riprese Steve Rogers, dichiarando di essere a conoscenza dei terribili trascorsi riguardanti i due fratelli.

“Ahahahah, Captain America! L'uomo giusto del Signore che finge di poter vivere senza guerra.”

Constatò divertito l'essere cibernetico, denotandone l'amarezza.

“Purtroppo non posso fisicamente vomitare, ma...”

Egli venne interrotto prontamente dal Signore dei Fulmini.

“Se credi nella pace, allora manteniamola.”

Ribatté ovvio, guardandolo dritto nelle iridi meccaniche.

“Credo che tu stia confondendo pace con calma.”

Suppose il nemico nel frattempo.

“A che serve il Vibranio?”

Domandò Stark, curioso di conoscere il valido motivo per servirsene.

“Sono contento che me l'abbia chiesto, coglierò l'occasione per spiegare il mio piano malvagio.”

Fu allora che lo scontro ebbe inizio, spingendo Ultron a passare alle maniere forti.

Wanda entrò in gioco, abbassando le loro difese sia a livello fisico che mentale.

L'energia scarlatta li avvolse interamente, alterandone la realtà.

Thor credette di essere immune al suo incantesimo, finché l'edificio non lasciò spazio a delle sfarzose mura dorate a lui familiari.

Dinnanzi al Tonante si allestì un banchetto in cui era solito dilettarsi quando conduceva una vita ricca di agi e lodi.

La sala era gremita di gente, intenta a danzare a ritmo d'orchestra.

Pervaso dall'angoscia, il primogenito di Odino percorse ogni angolo del ricevimento con circospezione.

In lontananza una figura incappucciata proseguiva docile ed elegante, guadagnandone inconsciamente l'attenzione.

Si ritrovò ad osservarla guardingo, notando un'aria familiare nei movimenti.

Era intenzionato a raggiungerla, fin quando la voce di Heimdall non gli impedì di eseguire l'azione.

Avanzò verso l'erede al trono, denotando uno sguardo minaccioso nelle pupille vitree e spente.

Gli afferrò il collo, minacciandolo di aver condannato Asgard all'eterna dannazione.

Liberarsi dalla sua presa fu un arduo ostacolo da superare, costringendo il Dio a lederlo dolorosamente.

Fuggì dalla sua presenza, alla ricerca del misterioso individuo dal manto nero.

Comprese di essere intrappolato in una visione distorta, constatando che l'unica via d'uscita fosse quella di dialogare con l'oscuro spettro.

Avvertiva l'assoluto bisogno di ricevere informazioni.

Quest'ultimo gli si stagliò davanti non lasciandogli alcun scampo.

Nella bocca sottile si increspò un sorrisetto sardonico e crudele.

“Ti consiglio vivamente di rivelarti a me.”

Suggerì ostile, assumendo la posizione di difesa.

L'uomo obbedì silente, rimuovendo il cappuccio.

Il Dio dell'Inganno rivelò il proprio volto, ghignando maleficamente.

“Come ci si sente ad essere in trappola, figlio di Odino? Come ci si sente ad essere impotenti?”

Incalzò gelido con una nota di scherno nella vocalità.

Thor gli riserbò un paio di occhiate perplesse e afflitte, evitando di rispondere.

“Hai osato scaraventarmi in un baratro colmo di follia e disperazione. Per tutto questo tempo hai creduto di essere nel giusto, venendo ricoperto da false lodi e lusinghe.”

Sentenziò lievemente rabbioso, manifestando un'invidia repressa nei suoi confronti.

Le iridi smeraldine erano madide di odio e rancore.

“Sono consapevole di aver sbagliato, ma posso rimediare agli errori commessi.”

Tentò di spiegarsi, ricevendo nient'altro che sguardi impassibili e freddi.

Rammentava tuttora la sua morte per mano di Malekith, avvenuta due anni or sono...uno straziante dolore, seguito da estenuanti sensi di colpa.

“Sono cresciuto nel mio più completo esilio, esercitando un vasto potere...qualcosa che neppure le menti più brillanti possono comprendere fino in fondo.”

Illustrò vago, lasciando intuire che non riguardasse solo l'uso del Tesseract.

“E tu hai rovinato la mia gloriosa ascesa, infischiandotene delle conseguenze.”

Ringhiò maligno e al contempo furente, inglobando il fratellastro tramite il Seiðr.

L'energia verde avvolse il suo corpo, sollevandolo in aria.

“F...fratello...”

Provò a pronunciare, rischiando di rimanere a corto di ossigeno.

La magica e opprimente morsa scaturita da Lingua D'Argento permise al Padrone delle Saette di captare alcuni segnali di vitale importanza.

Senza dubbio una minaccia più grande si ergeva all'orizzonte, bramosa di assoluto e smisurato potere.

Venne colto da una nuova visione raffigurante una gemma d'oro, sovrapposta ad altre dalle differenti tonalità.

Un rapido flash da sconvolgerlo totalmente.

Incanalò le varie scariche di fulmini, riuscendo infine a liberarsi del fantasma.

Era come se la proiezione gli avesse illuminato la mente, esponendo un disegno non ancora ben delineato.

Il giorno successivo avrebbe temporaneamente abbandonato la squadra per indagare più a fondo sulla questione.

Era in cerca di risposte, desideroso di vederci chiaro.

Inoltre non poté far a meno di riflettere sulle terribili frasi rivoltegli dal minore, a cominciare dai riferimenti alla Battaglia di New York.

Come se Loki e quegli artefatti fossero legati da un unico filo conduttore.

Si sedette sopra l'apposito sedile, chiudendo gli occhi.

Tale faccenda ebbe modo di sconvolgerlo.

Neutralizzare Ultron e le sue giovani reclute avrebbe richiesto un necessario recupero delle energie, riordinandone le rispettive idee.

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐞

One shot:

~ Dreams And Shadows ~

Name chapter:

~ Dark Visions ~

#thor #loki #mcu thor #mcu loki #god of thunder #god of mischief #dark visions #one shot #wattpad #wattpad italy #avengers age of ultron #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction #avengers #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #ultron #heimdall

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jiyascepter · 4 months

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Caught You | 18+ Only

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Loki x F!reader

Words: 4012

Warnings/Content: SMUT; Avenger! Loki & Avenger! Y/n, Themes of dub-con, dark-ish Loki??, dom!Loki, pervy!Loki, possessive, jealous loki, use of loki's magic (in a lot of sexual stuff), restraints, bondage, biting, licking, aggressive, pissed loki, praise, slight degradation, there's a tattoo on y/n's thigh (for the plot!), other mcu characters also make an appearance, clit licking, fingering, overstimulation, p in v.

Please lmk if I missed anything! Loki is a bit of red-flaggy in this one, please keep in mind this is only a fanfiction.

Summary: When you make fun of Loki's magic, he "demonstrates" how his magic can be useful. In many, ehm..ways. What did you expect?

A/n: i moved the title in the corner so that i can keep seeing tommys's sexy face in the middle 😮‍💨 im trying to make my fics dirtier but it's not quite coming down in my works, like it's in my mind but it's not easy to express??? im trying & hopefully it'll come soon

The cavernous, dimly-lit warehouse echoed with the sounds of clashing metal and grunts of exertion. The Avengers were locked in combat with a band of mercenaries armed with advanced weaponry.

Tony was in the air, repulsor beams lighting up the darkness, while Natasha and Clint worked in tandem, their movements precise and deadly. Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir, was a blur as it struck down the enemies with thunderous force.

In the midst of the chaos, Loki stood with an air of detached amusement, casting spells with flicks of his wrists. His magic sent mercenaries flying, created illusions to confuse their ranks, and conjured barriers to protect the teammates. But Loki's magic, powerful and unpredictable, was also a bit reckless tonight.

Maybe it was the leather suit you were wearing today.

"Loki, for the love of—watch where you're aiming!" You shouted as you narrowly avoided being hit by a stray spell meant for an enemy.

Your eyes flashed with annoyance as you shot him a glare. "Are you trying to get us all killed?"

Loki smirked, eyeing you up, not taking you seriously. "Perhaps if you were more attentive, you wouldn't find yourself in such precarious positions, darling."

You scowled and ducked under a swipe from a mercenary, retaliating with a swift punch that sent your opponent sprawling.

Ugh, you hated how he always carried that stupid smirk.

"Maybe if your magic was actually useful, we wouldn't be in precarious positions to begin with!"

Loki's eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of irritation flashing through his otherwise calm demeanor. "Is that so? I seem to recall saving you from a similar predicament just last week."

"By causing it in the first place!" You shot back, dodging another mercenary's attack and taking him down with a well-placed kick.

Loki rolls his eyes and runs in the other direction. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured an illusion, making a group of mercenaries see each other as Avengers.

Confused, they turned on one another, giving the team a moment of respite. But the spell was too potent, and soon the illusion spread, affecting even the teammates.

Chaos erupted as friends and foes became indistinguishable.

"What the—" Tony exclaimed while flying over the scene.

"Damn it, Loki!" You screamed, ducking, as Natasha took a swing at you, mistaking you for an enemy.

"Enough!" Thor bellowed, his hammer smashing into the ground to create a shockwave that knocked everyone off their feet and dispelled the illusion.

The mercenaries, now disoriented, were quickly subdued.

The flight back home was quiet. Everyone was either tired, tending to their wounds, or just rethinking what happened back there.

Once you landed, the rest of the Avengers stepped down the Quinjet and walked into the building to their rooms.

"Loki, wait." Steve calls out and walks towards Loki in the lobby.

“About today—”

“Nobody died, Rogers.” Loki replies.

"That is not an achievement," You murmur to yourself loudly on purpose for him to hear while taking a sip from your favourite grey-coloured sipper.

Loki and Steve both glanced at you, with Steve carrying a hint of a smile on his face while Loki scowled and turned back to Steve.

You could tell he was not impressed.

A win for you.

Steve clears his throat, turning serious once more. "Look, what happened today was not good. We cannot work as a team if we don't know half of your tricks."

Loki grins. "Well, that's the fun, isn't it? A surprise for everyone.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. "But it isn’t helping, Lo-"

"Helping? His magic is useless half the time."

Loki shoots an eye at you when you say that, and you could tell the God wasn't pleased.

"He's showing off in front of everyone, like the arrogant ass he is." You go on, while Loki watches you with his grave, sharp eyes.

Why wasn't he replying with his usual snarky comments today?

Steve gives a light chuckle and pats Loki's shoulder as if feeling sorry for him, "Be careful next time, that's all I ask," and walks away through the corridor, leaving you and Loki to yourselves.

While waiting for the elevator, you silently stand in front of the doors, waiting for it to arrive.

Until you feel a hard pressure against your back.

The sensation is unmistakable—a solid, unyielding presence, warm and firm. Loki's chest. His closeness sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his breath and subtle heat radiating through his clothes.

You stiffen, unsure whether to move away or stay still, the elevator's arrival feeling like an eternity away.

You decide to say something to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Ego broken, Loki~?" You say his name in a sing-song voice.

"Do you enjoy testing my patience, mortal?" he says, leaning down to your ear.

"Someone has to keep you in check," you reply, your voice steady despite the proximity.

The elevator reaches your floor, and with a little chime, its doors open. You proceed to take a step forward to enter the elevator when his hand grabs hold of the back side of your neck and pulls you back to him.

"Careful," he almost whispers, his breath ghosting over your skin, "your tongue is going to get you in trouble one day."

You pause for a moment, feeling the tension thicken in the air, before you turn your head out of his hands to look at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt the big bad trickster's feelings?" You taunt, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Maybe if your magic wasn't so unreliable, we wouldn't be in these messes. Or do you need Daddy Odin to give you some pointers on how to actually be useful?"

Loki's eyes flare with fury, and in no time he grabs your neck once again and strides into the elevator, pinning your head to the panels. His body pressed against yours with a force that left little room for doubt about his intensity.

His frame, tall and lean yet undeniably strong, exerting a commanding presence as he pins you against the cool metal of the elevator wall. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, a stark contrast to the chill of the metal against your cheek.

He was so close to you, you could smell his sultry, intoxicating smell on him.

"You think my magic is useless, don’t you..." He whispers, his breath ghosting on your skin. "I’ll make sure you regret saying that."

"I don't "think", it's a fact." You try to push him back with your elbow. “Let me go, Loki.” You say it firmly.

"Not yet, vixen." He says so, and the elevator doors shut by themselves. And with one flick of his fingers, the front chain of your tight leather suit yanked open down to the end of your belly.

Did he just–

"I’ll make sure to demonstrate how useful my magic can be." He says and looks down to notice you were not even wearing a bra underneath.

He grins at the sight, licking his lower lip. "Naughty girl." He coos in your ear while his fingers work their way to your belly.

His fingers, though possessing a hint of coldness at first, quickly warmed against your skin as they made contact with your belly. Each touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a fire that danced just beneath the surface.

"Let. Me. Go." You say, trying to stand your ground, but your attempts are futile.

"Told you no, darling." He says while his fingers trailed up to your nipples, sending a shiver down your spine as goosebumps rose in their wake.

It was a sensation that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet strangely exhilarated by the raw intensity of his touch.

He slides down your suit from your shoulders, proceeding with a graze of his tongue on your skin.

"Mmm…sweet," he murmurs, sucking on your shoulder, "unlike those words you use."

"FUCK. YOU." You reply with a gruff.

Loki chuckles darkly against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "Oh, darling, you will," he murmurs, his voice dripping with seductive menace. "But not before I teach you to respect a God."

He pulls down your suit lower, his lips kissing the back of your neck, followed by melty little kisses down your bareback. Despite your discontent, you couldn’t help but feel turned on by him.

As Loki pushes down your suit to your thighs, his eyes catch sight of a small tattoo etched on the inside of your thigh. The ink reads the name of your ex-boyfriend. Loki's eyes darken with a mix of curiosity and possessiveness.

He paused, his brows furrowing as he read the name inked there. "Well, well, well," he murmured, his voice a mix of curiosity and disdain. "So that’s what your little skirt was hinting at the meeting a few days ago..."

He traced the tattoo lightly with his finger, sending a shiver through your body.

So this bastard was always watching you?

You grit your teeth, anger and embarrassment flushing through you. "It’s none of your business, Loki."

He tightens his grip on your neck slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to assert his dominance. "I know."

"But this mark... it irks me. An insignificant mortal claiming a part of you." He pinches your thigh, and you try to jerk away your leg but cannot.

You squirmed against his grip, but he held you firmly, his eyes dark and intense as they bore into yours. "Let it go, Loki," you demanded, trying to maintain your composure.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the tattoo. "Why should I?" he whispered, his voice a dangerous purr. "Why should I let some forgotten lover's mark go unchallenged?"

He gives you a rather harsh bite on your shoulder, trailing his lips to kiss your neck, which makes you whimper, which makes him grin.

He pulls away a bit, and with the flick of his wrists, an invisible force pins your arms above your head, securing you in place against the elevator wall. You struggle briefly, but the bonds hold firm. Loki steps back, his eyes raking over your exposed form with a predatory gaze.

Before you could retort, he bent down, turning his body against the elevator and facing you from below. He kissed the tattoo with deliberate slowness, his lips soft and maddeningly sensual.

The act was both possessive and teasing, with his tongue swirling repeatedly on the same spot that was making you crazy. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, and a part of you hated how your body responded to his touch.

"Shh, people can still hear us, darling. Even if they cannot enter." He says placing pecks up and down your thigh, evaporating your steady facade away.

"Now, let's see what other secrets you're hiding," he murmurs, his hands sliding down to your hips. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down and exposing you completely.

You saw his eyes almost sparkle at the sight, placing a kiss on your mound, making you flinch against the metal. Where and when did your suit disappear? You didn’t know.

He leans close and starts exploring your already wet clit with his tongue. Holding your waist in his hands, he kept stealing glances up at your aroused form, watching your expressions while you gasped every time his warm tongue darted on your needy pussy.

The god had a talent for his tongue. The silver tongue.

"Are you still with him?" He murmured, pulling away his face from your pussy, making you let out a complaining whine.

He holds up his two fingers to caress your folds. "Answer."

"N-no…" You answer, your voice quivering in pleasure.

"Then why isn’t it off?" He says this, glancing at your tattoo.

"I never…Loki-"

He pushes two fingers in. "You never what?"

You shudder as Loki's fingers push inside you, his question hanging in the air, demanding an answer. Your mind races, caught between the intense pleasure and the need to explain yourself.

"I never... had the chance," you manage to gasp, your voice barely steady. "It didn't mean anything anymore. I just...fuck-forgot about it."

Loki's eyes narrow slightly as he studies your face, his fingers moving slowly inside you, curling and stroking in a way that makes coherent thoughts nearly impossible. He doesn't seem entirely convinced.

"Forgot about it?" he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. "Or perhaps you wanted a reminder of something you couldn't let go?"

"No…" You moan, writhing against the panel with your hands above your head, your fingers aching to dive into his hair.

He starts to pump his fingers in and out of you with a deliberate rhythm, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. You squirm, your faint moans echoing the elevator.

"Good," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "Because I don't share, darling. And I don't like to be reminded of what once was."

You moan, your body arching against his touch. His words send a thrill through you, and the possessiveness in his tone both intimidating and exhilarating.

"You know I can just turn you into a pretty mannequin for me so I can do whatever I want with you…but I want to feel you squirm... to mewl... like a little prey." He says watching your face while feeling your pussy start to clench around his fingers.

"Now, let's make sure you never forget who you belong to, hm?" Loki whispers, his lips brushing against your thigh as he speaks. His mouth returns to your clit, his tongue flicking and sucking with a relentless intensity that drives you wild.

"Yeah, that’s right, just keep on making those little sounds for me." He says it with a satisfied smile curling on his lips, and he resumes his ministrations with renewed fervor.

The combination of his fingers inside you and his mouth on your clit sends you spiralling into a mind-shattering orgasm, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cry out his name.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, Loki slowly withdraws his fingers. He stands, his eyes locking onto yours. He releases your binds away and turns you to him, and his thumb caresses your lower lip as if studying it for a second before he holds you against the wall, cupping your cheek, and kisses you almost fiercely.

And gosh, you needed that. You needed that and more.

"Y/n, is that you?"

Both of you freeze to your seats when you hear Thor’s voice outside the elevator.

Loki's eyes narrow in annoyance, and he quickly glances towards the elevator doors. "Shh," he murmurs against your lips, his voice barely a whisper. "We wouldn't want to get caught now, would we?"

He continues exploring your mouth, and the kisses start spreading to your neck, tongue, and teeth, making their wild appearances every once in a while.

Until you couldn’t help it and let out a moan.

"This door is not openi- Y/n??" Thor repeats again. "Wait, let me call Stark.-"

Your heart races when Thor calls out again because of your moan. Loki’s eyes narrow, and he pulls away. "Are you doing this on purpose? Just another one of your games so we can get caught and you can have your fun?"

He gives your pussy a little slap, and you whine a no.

In a swift motion, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. You barely have time to register the shift before the air around you shimmers and the familiar confines of the elevator vanish, replaced by the opulent and dimly lit interior of a room unknown to you.

The room is a stark contrast to the sterile metal of the elevator. Rich tapestries line the walls, and candles flicker, casting a warm, golden glow. A large, ornate bed dominates the space, its dark, luxurious linens inviting in a way that makes your heart race.

Loki wastes no time. He sweeps you off your feet, carrying you to the bed with an urgency that sends a thrill through you. He lays you down gently, his gaze intense as he takes in your still-naked form. His hands trace over your skin, as if committing every inch to memory.

The air is thick with the scent of sandalwood and something uniquely Loki—intoxicating and alluring. "Now, where were we?" He purrs, his fingers tracing a delicate line down your spine, sending shivers through your body.

You can barely catch your breath; the intensity of the moment overwhelming. "Loki, what if Thor—"

"Thor won't find us," Loki interrupts, his voice a low growl. "This is my domain. No one enters without my permission."

"Now," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, "let us continue our little magic demonstration."

The silken sheets cool against your heated skin, and with Loki's hands everywhere—caressing, teasing, exploring every inch of your body—his touch both gentle and demanding, leaving you breathless and craving more.

"So beautiful," his voice dripping with seductive menace as he conjures a binding spell that secures your wrists to the bedposts.

You gasp, your body arching against the restraints, as Loki's mouth finds your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples with maddening precision. The sensations are overwhelming, and your mind is lost in a haze of pleasure and need.

Loki's mouth moves with deliberate precision, his tongue tracing intricate patterns over your breasts. Each flick of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you arch and writhe against the silken sheets. The restraints on your wrists keep you firmly in place.

"Loki…"

"Mhm," he hums, enjoying your squirms. But he wanted more.

He uses his powers to amplify his touch, making your nerve endings sing with heightened sensitivity. You gasp and moan, the intensity of his magic overwhelming your senses.

You can feel the magic pulsating through you, heightening your awareness of every touch and every kiss. His lips move from your breasts to the sensitive skin just below, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The combination of his mouth and his magic almost too much to bear.

His free hand trails down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake. As his fingers reach your inner thighs, you feel a new surge of his magic, more potent and concentrated. It wraps around your thighs, making your muscles quiver with anticipation.

Loki conjures small, delicate tendrils of magic that wrap around your nipples, gently tugging and twisting. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt before—a perfect blend of pleasure and pain that leaves you gasping for breath.

He moves lower, his mouth leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your belly. The tendrils of magic follow his path, amplifying every sensation, making you feel as if your skin is on fire. You can barely think or breathe; your mind consumed by the overwhelming pleasure.

As he reaches your hips, his fingers part your folds, and you feel a rush of cool air against your wetness. His mouth hovers just above your clit, his breath hot and tantalizing.

"Tell me, darling," Loki whispers, his lips brushing against your most sensitive spot, "how does it feel to be at the mercy of a god?"

Before you can answer, his tongue flicks out, teasing your clit with delicate, precise strokes. His magic enhances every touch, making you moan and writhe against the restraints. You can feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly.

"Loki I-" He sees your upcoming orgasm and pulls away quickly, enjoying your needy, complaining moan for him.

"Not so easy, darling."

And with another display of his magic, he completely gets rid of his clothes, his disrobed body turning you on even more, the heat of need between your legs almost unbearable.

He brings his already-hard cock near your lips. "Kiss it." and you do, the light hum of satisfaction he makes making you want to absolutely suck him out rather than just a little kiss.

"My filthy little vixen," he says, eyes blazing with hunger as he positions himself between your legs. His grip tightens on your hips, holding you in place as he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock, the sensation sending shivers of anticipation through you, "get ready for your god."

He lets out a low growl, a dark and seductive sound, before slowly pushing into you, his length stretching and filling you completely. The feeling is exquisite, with every inch of him sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You feel so perfect," Loki murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Every part of you was made just for me."

He begins to move, slow and deliberate, his thrusts deep and controlled. Each motion designed to draw out the maximum pleasure to make you feel every inch of him. The binding spell keeps your wrists secured to the bedposts, preventing you from reaching out to touch him, to claw at his back as the pleasure intensifies.

Loki's eyes never leave yours, the connection between you palpable and electric. He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity as his thrusts. You respond eagerly, your moans muffled against his lips, your body arching to meet his.

His magic continues to amplify every sensation, making your skin hypersensitive, every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you. The tendrils of magic around your nipples tighten and twist, adding to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

"Loki," you gasp, barely able to form coherent words. "I can't... it's too much..."

He smirks, his eyes dark with lust. "You can take it, darling. You will take it. You will take everything I give you."

His pace quickens, and his thrusts become more urgent and more demanding. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound mingling with your moans and the wet, slick sounds of your bodies moving together. The pleasure builds rapidly, creating a coiling heat in your belly that threatens to consume you entirely.

Loki's hand moves between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight, precise circles. The additional stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Come for me, darling," Loki commands, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Come for your god."

His words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter, the orgasm ripping through you with an intensity that leaves you breathless and shaking. The pleasure is overwhelming, your vision going white as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Loki continues to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure, his own release imminent. His movements become erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chases his own climax.

You can feel him throbbing inside you, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he finally lets go, his own orgasm ripping through him.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his groan of pleasure vibrating through your body. He collapses on top of you, his weight comforting and grounding as you both catch your breath, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through you.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your ragged breathing, the scent of sex and sweat heavy in the air. Loki's hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear of overwhelming pleasure.

"Fuck, you drive me wild." He murmurs breathlessly.

"Did you like that, darling?" Loki murmurs against your skin, his voice a seductive purr. "My magic can do so much more."

You breathlessly chuckle while he traces patterns on your skin. His fingers caress down to your thigh, where he glances at your tattoo.

"We can’t have that." He says in a low voice and grazes his hand over your skin, and the tattoo vanishes. Loki’s touch lingers on your thigh where the tattoo once was, his magic leaving your skin smooth and unmarked.

"And now you’re mine."

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