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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year

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When I Hear Your Name

Summary: You should have never left. Things were perfect.

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit, dark, explicit language, explicit sexual content, depictions of PTSD, kidnapping, somnophilia, non con/dub con, degradation, bondage, fingering, squirting, creampie, pussy plug, breeding kink, holding people captive, cheating, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.7K

Steve Rogers Masterlist

A/N: My entry for @the-slumberparty Week 1 Challenge. My random generator theme was ‘Descent into Madness’ and the setting was ‘Military’.

Steve Rogers was a lot of things; he was strong, charismatic, a natural leader, righteous, handsome, sweet, and stubborn. He was different before he went off to war. He was always about making you giggle. Holding you tight when you got scared. His sweet lips nipping at every inch of your skin. His body had yours memorized.

Things were harder when he came back. There was this odd quality about him. He wasn’t mean, he was just…distant. It was like he was living from afar. Never completely present with you. He didn’t talk to you. Barely looked at you. He was just there taking up space.

Once upon a time he showered you with gifts. Even if you didn’t have much, Steve managed to get that diamond bracelet that you had eyed for years. Surprised you with his own homemade bouquets of flowers. It became a weekly thing to see these adorable, if not crudely put together, flowers. He tried, and that’s all you cared about. Even would hand deliver them.

His romance was gone, as was his will to enjoy life. There was no passion behind his actions. He was but a meat suit with little to no emotions. No excitement, no love, no passion. It was infuriating. It was worse seeing Steve like that. You couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t make sense out of it. And you felt yourself losing your joy everyday.

You tried getting him the help he needed. Tried to be there for him, but it wasn’t enough.

“Moonbeam,” Bucky whispered in your ear as the two of you watched a blank Steve staring up at the ceiling, “you don’t deserve this.”

“But…I love him,” you look up at Bucky, and only then does Steve stir. His eyes glaring straight at his best friend. “He doesn’t deserve this either. Bucky, what am I supposed to do? He barely eats or sleeps. Won’t go to therapy. Won’t talk to me. I want our life back.”

“Have you ever thought it wasn’t coming back?” Steve sits up in the bed, and you flinch, taking a step towards him.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, he sighs, leaning more into it. This was proof he was still in there. He always leaned into your touch. You pet around his face, giving him a tearful smile when he looks up at you. Opening his mouth, but no words came out. It was heartbreaking to see this great man become a ghost of his former self. No smiles were ever present on his beautiful face. He was lost.

“Moonbeam,” Bucky says again when you turn to leave. Steve’s feet bounced his legs around, but you couldn’t do it anymore. It was eating away at your soul. Your hope was nearly dwindled down to nothing.

“Moonbeam?” Bucky races out to grab your arm, “Where are you going?”

“Back home, Buck. I can’t,” you cry up at him, giving him a tight hug. Blind to your boyfriend’s darkened eyes peering at the two of you. “I tried. He’s never coming back is he?”

“I don’t have an answer for that.”

“I hope he does. I hope he finds himself. But I can’t do this. I can’t see him like this anymore,” giving him a kiss to his cheek, you leave everything behind. You didn’t need a reminder of how happy your life was. How many dreams you and Steve had made come true, and how many you were still waiting on. You wiped your hands clean, and it was the hardest thing you had ever done.

“What did you do?” Steve screams as he races towards Bucky. “She left me, and it’s all your fault!” He knocks Bucky onto the floor, crawling over him to slam his head into the floor over and over again. “You did this!”

“You did this, Steve! She wants you, and you won’t fix it!”

“I can’t.”

——

“You got another package,” the girl at the front desk snips, smacking her gum, feigning annoyance. “You know the boss is mad about all these personal deliveries.”

“They’re not personal when I don’t know who’s sending them,” opening the box, you gasp at the forever roses that were supposed to keep for over a year, and one in the center was a pure gold rose.

‘I’ll love you until the last rose dies,’ ugh, so cliche. If this was for you, he didn’t know you at all.

“You have no idea who’s sending you these,” she smacks her gum right beside you, and you have to silently count to ten.

“Nope. Not even dating. Probably someone gave them the wrong place of work. Throw it away,” you didn’t care about gifts anymore anyways. You didn’t care about love or happily ever after. You cared about peace, and yourself. You vowed to never fall in love again. And you wouldn’t

“Some man just spent hundreds of dollars and you think he doesn’t know who you are?”

“Nope. Clearly a mistake.”

“Your name is on the address,” giving you an incredulous look. She believed you were bullshitting her and everyone in this office. “No man is going to go out of his way to do this, along with flowers every Friday, if he wasn’t sure it was you.”

“What?” You stop in your tracks, turning back to look at her. “What did you say?”

“You get flowers sent to you every Friday,” she blows a giant bubble with her gum, and you march back to the box, grabbing it up. “So you know who sent them?”

“Nope,” you lie. It wouldn’t be Steve. This was a cruel joke. You hadn’t heard from Steve in a few years. These weren’t hand delivered like Steve did it. They had it all wrong.

You go out the back door, and slam the box into the garbage. Your chest heaves with frustration. “God, I can’t get away from him.”

“Because you weren’t meant to,” before you can scream, someone’s thick hand has been placed around your mouth as he drags you into a van. You try kicking and screaming. Try for anyone to get your attention, but it was useless.

“Any second now,” your assailant grunts as your vision goes blurry. “There ya go,” he hums, watching your eyes flutter close. “Sweet dreams, Moonbeam.”

——

Your eyes pop open quickly, as you blink your vision back into view. Tugging at your arms above your head, and your feet, but you were not going anywhere. Hands tied above your head, while your legs were spread eagle. Taking a deep breath to keep from crying, you look around.

“Welcome home, darling,” Steve says sweetly, walking into the bedroom with a glass of water. “I worried that you weren’t going to wake up. It had been too long. Your pulse was still steady. You must have needed that extra bit of sleep.”

“Steve, what are you doing?” Your voice was hoarse, like you had been screaming. “Why am I naked?”

“Why are you asking questions? You’re home, you should be happy. Look, I’m talking to you again. I tried sending you flowers, you didn’t thank me. I had plans to hold you while we walked on the beach and talk for hours, but you didn’t call. Had this big night planned for a romantic dinner, and then to take you dancing, but…yeah, you didn’t reach out to me. So, I had to do what I had to do. We’ve traded diamond bracelets for leather cuffs,” he gives the binds on your wrist a little tap.

“And they look so pretty on you. Water?” You shake your head no, but he lowers a straw to you anyways. “I suggest you drink some water. You’re tired,” with his free hand he slaps at your core, chuckling when you yip.

“What have you done?”

“You took too long to wake up. I wanted what you promised was mine,” you cock up your eyebrow, needing him to go on, “You said that your pussy belonged to me. So I took it.”

“You fucked me while I slept?” You growl up at him. Disgusted that this was the man you had once loved.

“Yeah,” he answers easily. “It’s my pussy. It was just glistening with your juices. If you weren’t turned on why were you so fucking wet? Face it, Moonbeam, that cunt was made for me. So I gave her what she wanted. You needed a good hard fucking. You were pitiful. You still say my name in your sleep, too. You know that?”

“Who was driving the van?”

“Hmm?” Steve smiles, looking down the expanse of your body. Cupping your mound, moaning at the feeling of you, “Still wet. You’re a slut for me, you know?” His hand slides up and down your split, and you try not to react, but damn if it didn’t feel good. He knew your body. Steve studied your body like he was being graded, this didn’t change.

“Who was driving the van? There was someone else. Was it Bucky?” You croak, letting a desperate mewl rise up out of your chest.

“Why do you care so much about fucking Bucky?”

“I didn’t say anything about fucking Bucky. I asked who was driving the fucking van,” Bucky was a sore subject for him. His hand moves a bit faster. A bit too hard on your sensitive nub. “Steve,” you whine, anything had to be better than this. “Steve, I wanna feel you.”

“No, you don’t. You’re asking about Bucky.”

“No. I…uh…I just wanted to know who was with you. But…all I want right now is you. I forgot what you felt like, and,” you bite at your lip as the pleasure starts to build up. Getting a devilish smile from Steve. He slows down his motions more, and you whimper out his name. “Steve, I can’t remember.”

“I’ll make sure you remember. I’ll make sure you feel me for a month. You’ll take a step and be so sore that you’ll know my cock was buried so deep in your greedy little cunt.”

“Yes! Yes, that’s…that’s exactly what I want. Steve,” you breathlessly answer when he takes off his shirt. Silver scars crisscross over his arm, and you can’t stop staring at the odd pattern of them.

“Steve,” moaning out his name when he jerks his pants down. His cock springing free, looking just as godlike as him. Dripping of precum, and he crawls in between your legs. Rubbing his tip through your arousal before slapping his cock over your clit. “Steve!”

He continues playing with you, until strings of sticky arousal connect the two of you, and you jerk at your cuffs, needing to feel him. “Yeah, you get forced to take whatever I give you,” he laughs as you try to bring your thighs together. “Pathetic. Trying to deny yourself an orgasm,” he tsks at you, changing to slapping you with his hand.

The sharpness was sending euphoria that you had never felt through every inch of your body. Flowing through you like your blood. Continuing until you were screaming out his name, and he crams two fingers into your tight channel. Curling his fingers as he stabs into you. There was no time to rest as he chases another high for you.

Your cunt was making the most vulgar squelching sounds that made his eyes roll into the back of his head. The noise echoing through the rest of the house, and Steve hoped he heard. “Just. Let. Go,” he demands, letting his calloused fingers hit over a sensitive spot in your core.

“It’s…it’s….there she fucking is!” Steve screams as you squirt onto his chest. Your juices being catapulted to your stomach, and still he didn’t stop. “One more time. Then I’ll give you what you need. Go…on,” he pulls his hand out while you soak his thigh.

At lightning speed he had his cock driving into you. Hips thrusting his fat cock in your warmth. You were already speaking in tongues. Head tilted back as you worshiped at the altar of Steven Grant Rogers. My god, he was hitting every single spot that you had. This wasn't sweet love making. This was an urgent need to have you say his name like a prayer screaming off your lips. A deep desire to destroy you, break you, so that you would never leave him again.

More arousal spews out from around his length as you clench down. Your walls missed him. And they were hugging him tightly. So tight you start to see stars. “Don’t you give out on me. I missed your pretty eyes! Missed the way you looked when you were taking my cock. Look at you…right where you were made to be, taking my cock. My little sexdoll. It’s what you were designed for, huh?”

You give him a head nod, trying to catch your breath. It was too much. “I told you to drink your water. Maybe next time you’ll listen. Molded to my cock. Gonna keep you in here so I can play with you whenever I want, Moonbeam. I do miss the way you scratched down my back though. Just like you’re doing with your hands.”

It was true, you had your hands in a fist so tight, your nails had brought blood to your palms. “Fuck,” Steve growls, railing into you harder. “One day, when you don’t try to leave me, I’ll let you ride on top of me. Okay? Let that pretty little ass ride on my dick.”

“Steve!”

“Yeah, I know. I know, you missed me just as much as your pussy. I mean, my pussy. She was always mine, wasn’t she?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You scream out again as he drives into you hard. Making your body jump up the bed. You felt him in your throat, and you wanted more. “Steve!”

“I know! Right…there!” One more final thrust has you both coming hard. Your creams mix together as Steve tries to catch his breath. “Beautiful. Now,” he groans, pulling out of you. His hand shoves up against your ruined cunt and he reaches over to the bedside drawer, grabbing a plug that he shoves into your mouth.

“This is extra important,” he drags it down your body before removing his hand, and pushing it into your sex. “There, that will keep that in there while I take care of something. When you have my child, you’ll never want to leave. We’ll become a family again.”

He kisses you hard on the lips before leaving you in a state of partially awake, and halfway asleep. Walking down to the basement where he sees the chair, and two angry glowing eyes. “See? I told you she wanted me. Now, I’m going to take your muzzle off and feed you. When she stays freely, I’ll let you go. Hey!” He shouts when Bucky snaps his teeth at him.

“Is that anyway to treat me? I know you two had something going on. This is to make sure you never think about fucking Moonbeam again.”

“It’s an expression. I didn’t mean I wanted to fuck her.”

“Liar!” Steve shouts, clenching his fists together. “She even said fucking Bucky.”

“I’ve never touched her!”

“Eh!” Steve holds up a glass of water with a straw, “Comply, soldier. Quit fighting it.”

“You’ve gone fucking mad, Steve. Let her help you.”

“I am,” Steve’s mouth turns up into a creepy smile as he puts the straw to Bucky’s mouth, “She’s going to give me babies. I have my cum waiting in her snatch right now. She’ll never leave. And neither will you. Not until you comply,” there was no use. Bucky knew that Steve would keep him here until he gave him what he wanted. It was over.

“Steve!” You scream from upstairs. “Steve, please, don’t keep me here! My parents have…they have…Steve! I have somebody who needs me,” Steve slams the glass on the ground, knocking Bucky’s chair over.

“What was it that you didn’t do again?”

“I didn’t know, Steve! I didn’t know!” Setting him back up right, Steve stomps up the stairs. “Steve, let her go! Steve!” Was the last thing Steve listened to before slamming the door closed, leaving Bucky to wonder, and Steve to brood, while you prayed you could get out of this. Maybe. At least this time you had a reason to fight, and a bigger reason to leave. He could never break you.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @softsatnin @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @harrysthiccthighss @navybrat817 @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

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a-b-riddle · 22 days

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Master list

Call Of Duty

Marvel

ACOTAR

Fourth Wing

Other Fandoms

#dark bucky barnes #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #bucky barnes #call of duty #dark fic #dark steve rogers #steve rogers #marvel #acotar #kidnapping #dub con #the cruel prince

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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months

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Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Tags: a/b/o, medical institutionalization, cognitive disability, made up kinky medical things, diapers, catheters, non-con medical procedures, restraints, forced wetting, hurt/comfort, humiliation, kind!Careworker Steve, bratty!Patient Bucky, alpha Steve, omega bucky, dub con everything due to a/b/o biology, dry humping, forced orgasm, masturbation, implied self harm, orgasm therapy, age difference (19/30), omorashi

Summary: Bucky is a troubled teen coping with the traumatic transformation of late-onset omega puberty.

Steve's been developing too much of an attachment, he knows he has. But he might not have the self control to remain detached anymore.

Chapter 1: A Weekend in the Pens

Chapter 2: Holding It in

Chapter 3: A Catalyst

Chapter 4: Release Therapy

Chapter 5: Excited Catatonia with Aggression

Chapter 6: Inflation Therapy

Chapter 7: Pheromonal Oil Massage

Chapter 8: Sensory Reset Therapy

Chapter 9: Persistent Genital Arousal

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alostlovergirl · 1 year

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Bucky barnes or sebastian stan X innocent reader, where the reader goes to the doctor because she is constantly wet and feels tingling down there, and she doesn't know what it could be, so she goes to seek medical help, in a super beautiful clinic, with super cute doctor clothes, and still more with the nice and good doctor, bucky will take care of solving your problem in a very professional way (you know ;), 2,3,... X until she can't take it anymore, tying her legs wide open, talking dirty and manipulating her, and after finishing bucky says that every time you feel it you have to look for him, only he can make it stop, and gives the address of the "private clinic" to look for him. if there is any problem, I hope this fic is a little long.sorry if there are any mistakes, everything came from google translator

Open wide- Bucky Barnes x reader:

Summary: Taking a visit to the doctor concerning a private and embarrassing problem leads to some fun.

Warnings: Virgin reader, rough sex, rough taking of virginity, slight manipulation, crying.

Notes: I am so sorry anonymous for this taking so long. I have been dealing with a lot lately and I had to finish this quick. I hope you like it and I hope it is long enough for you. Thank you for your request!

Dr. Barnes is the best sexual therapist / Doctor around the Brooklyn area. He has dealt with multiple cases of couples with sexual frustration or non-communication with things in the bedroom. He has helped many achieve what they were looking for out of sex. Now, he was dealing with a case of a 21 year old woman, who apparently never dealt with sexual frustration in her life. Or never heard of sex. Or never had a sexual thought in her life ever apparently. It excited the older doctor. His mind wandered to a nervous, innocent woman opening up her tight, wet heat to him. To be seen by him for the first time, other than her parents. Bucky never thought of himself as a bad, uncomfortable doctor, but he has found it increasingly hard to control himself. After seeing pussy and the rare occasional virgin all damn day has had him in his office rubbing one off. So having a patient that has never heard of sex meant that maybe he could manipulate the woman to lose her precious virginity to his fateful techniques.

...

When he walked into his office with a pair of jeans and forest green sweater, binder full of files and right hand holding a black coffee, he didn't expect to see a shaking, small woman sitting in the cotton chair. She hair a blush on her increasingly not face and seemed mildly uncomfortable, squirming in the chair. ’ This was her?’, he thinks to himself, continuing past her and past the secretary booth, in pursuit of his office. She was gorgeous and her thighs would provide a great handle for him to pull her back on his aching dick.

Bucky sits in his plush seat, yawning before smiling to himself. He sends his nurse to get the young woman sitting there, waiting patiently. For a painful hour, he waits until he is ready to see her. His cock was throbbing in his pants, thinking about the wet mess that would be laying in front of him. He wasn't disappointed when he walked into a dripping wet pussy, facing the door. He had to hide his perverted side away and put on his friendly side.

"Good Morning, Miss." he says as he puts on some hand sanitizer and puts on his latex gloves. " How are we today?"

He hears the young women let out a sigh and breaths, shakily before speaking. " Nervous... ", god her soft voice was perfect. Shaky and quiet. It just made his dick jump in his pants again, but he has to control himself. ‘Don't freak her out more’ he tells himself before sitting himself in between her legs, putting his gloved hands on her warm thighs. He takes a deep breath, sneakily breathing the scent of her drenched, virgin pussy.

"Why ya nervous, dear? I'll help you out. Just tell me what's going on, alright?" he smiles when she nods in agreement. " What’s going on?"

He sits back and listens to the story over a 21 year old woman that never experienced hornieness or hormones. It's almost amusing to listen to the innocent woman laying on his table, rubbing her sticky thighs together. He acts professional, but in his mind, he was thinking of every way to " treat" his poor patient. As soon as she finishes, he scoots forward, putting his hands on her inner thighs and pulling them apart. " You know what you need? Some good old fashion relief.'' He is slowly losing his composure the longer she sits there with her pussy out in the open. " Let me help you."

He pushes her legs wide open, rubbing her inner thighs. He feels her tense, trying to close her legs. " Relax, darling" he presses his gloved thumb against her button. The little gasp she let out was music to his ears. She started to squirm, more arousal coming out of her little hole. He moves his thumb away only for thick strings of arousal wetting the gloved digit. He listens as her breathing quickens as he rubs his thumb against her sensitive nub.

"D-Doctor, what are you doing?” Her body temperature is slowly rising up as he continues rubbing her clit. Bucky smiles to himself, tracing his finger down to her opening, running it around her hole. He grips her thigh with an iron grip as she squirms around, trying to push back into the pleasurable feeling.

" You are so cute. This is all you needed to do, hun... But don't worry. I'll take care of you now." he chuckles, opening his mouth a bit, pushing his digit inside. She lets out a wanton moan. Bucky groans to himself as his cock was begging to let out of the ever growing tight jeans. He had to get a taste of her dripping wet cunt. Holding her thighs open as wide as they will go, he dips his head down, licking a firm stride along her cunt.

“D-doctor!” She lets out a gasp and closes her legs around his head. Bucky didn’t mind being trapped in her legs, close to her cunt, but he couldn’t breathe too well. He grabs her thighs and pulls them apart. He holds them tight enough to leave bruises while he works his magic mouth on her, sucking on her clit, relishing in her sweet taste. Virgin pussy has always tasted the best in Bucky’s opinion. He pulls away from her pussy, spits on it and goes right back down on her, hearing her moan out loudly, grinding on his face. His fingers climbed to the top of her cunt and pulled back the hood, giving him a more sensitive surface. He drools on her pussy, letting it dribble down on the table as he continues going down on her like a thanksgiving feast.

He feels a gushing sensation against his face, almost cutting off his airways. Bucky pried her legs off his neck and pulls away coughing. She was squirting everywhere, on the table, on him. Bucky groans, standing up, dripping wet. He takes off his sweater, and lab coat. He ties her up and smiles. “Look, you may be my favorite patient, but that doesn’t mean you can drown me.” He chuckles, shaking his damp hair. “Let me finish what I started darling.”

He starts taking off his belt, listening to her soft, quick breaths. She sounded scared, but Bucky was too horny to care at the moment. He got a taste of her virgin pussy, now he needed that virgin pussy on his cock. He needed to feel it squeezing around his every vein, every fucking inch as he forces himself into her tight hole. Bucky ties his back up and rubs his tip in her wet folds, smiling at the trembling woman, who was drooling a bit.

He aligns himself at her hole and pushes inside of her, bottoming out in her tight, warm pussy. It felt fucking amazing, the warmth made him feel like he was already about to fill her up. He grabs her thighs, thrusting inside, listening to pained groans and moans from the woman on the table. She squirmed against the confines of the lab coat and sweater tied to her wrists. Bucky moved his hips slowly, relishing in the pleasure of her cunt. “D-doctor..”, she groans out, breathly. The pleasure shot up her body, her eyes rolling back. Bucky pants to himself, eyes slightly crossing, loving the tightness and warmth.

He already felt like he was about to cum. Her pussy felt fucking amazing. The sticky, warm mess was more perfect then he could ever imagine. He looked down at her face, smiling as she was looking away with tears in her eyes and redness all over her face. He groans and wraps a gentle hand around her throat, so as not to scare the hell out of her. He turned her head back towards him, moving a bit faster.

Her hands grab onto his arm, whimpering and drooling. “D-dr. Barnes… Please… Please harder..”, She begged, getting redder with every word she said. He groans and stalls his hips, picking her up and fucking her into a wall. She cried out, scratching at his shoulders. “Bucky!”. She started to push on his chest, the pleasure became too much, but he didn’t stall. He holds her arms against the wall and pounds her little pussy, making it sticky and creamy. Her arousal drips down his cock and her legs, onto the floor.

He groans and pulls out, only to slam back into her. “Ah! F-feeling weird? L-lots of pressure”, tears run down her face. He smiles and decides to move slower. He makes sure that she could feel every inch and every fucking vein in his cock. He pushes her face into the wall as she started to fight back against the overwhelming feeling in her lower parts. She claws at his hand, shaking under him. She feels warm wetness run down her thighs and an overwhelming pleasure. Bucky kept going, chasing his orgasm. She pants, letting out little whines, being completely out of it. He kept going before pulling out of her and cums on his stomach and pussy. He coats his perfect body in his thick, white ropes. She looks at him with wide eyes, still trembling in his hands.

He gently put her down and helps her get cleaned up. She sits on the table, still tearful from being sore and confused. Bucky writes an address down on a piece of paper and gives it to her. “If you ever feel like that again, come to this address anytime… I’ll take care of you”, He pats her thighs, putting the crumbled piece of paper in his hands, smiling. He helps her out of the clinic and goes back to his office, satisfied. He is sure that she will be coming back to her every single fucking day.

#marvel #dark marvel #new post #x reader #non con #dub con #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes #doctor #manipulation

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foxgloveprincess · 7 days

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Hi! I'm obsessed with your Avengers Pantheon stuff... I thought I'd check on Steve and Bucky today... How are they and their captive lil pet doing?

Thank you so much! Steve and Bucky are doing quite well. Their pet? She’s adapting.

A Little Ficlet for Another Taste of Devouring Rush

Warnings: Dark (Soft Dark Stucky), Medieval(ish) AU, Polytheistic/Pagan Beliefs, Mythology, Yandere Behavior, Obsession, Possessiveness, Endless Hallways, Invisible Servants, Captivity (she calls them her masters), Dubious Consent, Smut (Vaginal Penetration, Nipple Play, suggestion of Somnophilia), Innocence Kink, Pet Names (sweet, blossom). Minors do not interact (18+).

What is morning when the sun and moon don’t rise upon the horizon? Without time, I cannot know for how long I’ve been kept. From the moment I wake to the moment I sleep, my life stretches endlessly.

I rise from the cushion of my bed. No ache, no pain. Only memories illuminated in my mind’s eye, finding their brethren in previous passions. My masters, the Righteous Captain and the Freed Soldier, meticulous in their endeavor of pleasure. Three bodies joining over and over in writhing lust and satisfaction. My purity plundered. Drunk on joy, lust, bliss. A divine communion of worship and reverence shared between mouths and tongues and bodies. Until I succumb to exhaustion and the cycle begins again like the seasons.

My feet weave a path about columns, naked body no shame. My previous life in The Broken Beast dispelled me of such notions long ago. But now, as I wander, phantom hands drape silk over my frame. A luxurious fabric unblemished by the touch of mortal man.

The servants covering my modesty spirits upon the breeze. Invisible to the eye, yet attentive to my every step, providing anything required by my whims or their judgement. They clothe me in fine garments, a protection of my virtue. They provide a tray of food and drink upon a small table, an offering for my strength. My indulgence their design.

I sigh and turn down another corridor. However time passes in the Land Beyond, I spend it wandering the halls of the vast castle of my masters. Every inch of space bedecked in opulence, art and offerings dazzling the eye. To think of my attempt to appeal to them, a simple sachet full of herbs, a shard of glass and a pebble, so paltry in comparison. When true masterpieces line their walls and stretch to the highest heights. Beyond what the eye can see and hidden by clouds. No ceiling to limit the display of grandeur and beauty.

My fingers pluck a morsel from a tray, a bite of boar dripping with black sauce. Another bite passes my lips before I continue on, weaving through familiar passageways and exploring my grand prison. Kept inside, I do not even know whether anything exists without. The crash of the river upon its shore my only indication of something beyond these walls.

With a turn down another passage and another, I pick up a new piece of boar to consume. My fingers stick with the sweet, spiced sauce left by my grazing. An echo of my name floats upon a breeze. A kiss of wind brushes against my cheek as I turn to greet my caller. A hand wraps about my wrist and draws me back.

I fall against a sturdy chest. Plush lips wrap about my sticky fingers. A hum rumbles in their throat.

“Hello, my sweet,” Steve greets from behind. My head turns to return the address, his shoulder leaning against the wall. A smile tilts his lips, his form relaxed and hands upon his belt. My other master, James, holds me in the cradle of his arms, tongue dancing over my fingertips.

The Soldier pulls back, releasing my wrist to let my hand fall limp at my side. “We missed you.”

“Did you miss us?” Steve asks, prompting a reply in their favor.

“Of course,” I demure. My bones engrained with the graces of my training. I spin to greet James readily, wrapping my arms about his neck and cooing sweetly as he buries his face in the crook of mine. “I was trying to bide my time by searching for the gardens.”

The affection borne of our lingering connection, unable to stifle my true feelings toward the lords behind the curtain, the men before me now. Still my captors, murderers. Swept away by them, forced to abandon my family for their safety. Everything falling to their feet, nothing restrained. A mistake, Melinda once said, not to keep something for myself. I thought myself unable to forgive them their many crimes. Until I did.

Steve stalks forward, pushing away from the wall, and tucks a finger beneath my chin to meet my eye.

“Gardens?”

“Or perhaps the riverside?” I continue on smooth, dulcet tones, “with all the beauty surrounding you here, I only thought it might be just as lovely.”

“There’s nothing for you outside our walls,” James grumbles against my skin. His arms pressing tighter, a remonstrance.

“What he means,” Steve says at the mournful tilt of my brow and the hitch of my breath, “is that outside our home, we cannot protect you. You would be vulnerable to any passing beast.”

“Oh.” The sound whooshes past my lips on a disappointed sigh. “I understand.”

Steve’s lips capture mine, an indulgent kiss. I sink into him, knees weak from his attentions. He pulls a breath away to suggest, “Let us take your mind away from such distracting thoughts.”

His whisper shivers down my spine and ignites fiery passion between my thighs. The lick of temptation leaving me defenseless against them. I meet the Captain’s piercing gaze and nod. Ready, as ever, to yield to their insatiable appetites.

James entwines his fingers with mine, palms kissing as he leads me down the hallway. Around only one corner, and we stand before my room. The corridors twisting and reforming to hasten our trek. Miraculous and astounding.

The door stands open. Just as I left it. Lace and the thinnest gossamer draped from the ceiling. Cushions line the floor. Colorful lanterns sparkle above. A fanciful world imitating the nights I sat behind my curtain enticing the eye of suitors, my virginity Aida’s prized gem.

Kisses trail over my neck and shoulders. Two sets of lips forging their own paths across my flesh. I seek their touches in turn. Fingers carding through hair and soft sounds spilling past my lips. The fabric covering my frame puddling on the floor. Whisked away from my feet by phantom hands.

My masters lead me to my bed, guiding my body to recline upon the plush cushion. Their devotion floods my body until I drown. The pinching pain of my deflowering forgotten in the heady rush that consumes. Their love an endless wave that does not recede. Their touch a scorching fire.

Sweat dots my skin. Lips parted on hungry breaths. Eyelids fluttering with euphoria. Steve parts me around his glorious cock and fills me to my limit. James’s hands plucking at the tender buds of my breasts. I moan and writhe between their bodies. Flush with their warmth. Defiled and debauched, exhaustion tickles at the border of my consciousness. My nails bite into their flesh, dragging myself away from the tempting precipice of slumber.

“Rest,” Steve croons into my ear, a kiss trailing my cheekbone to my lips. His hips continuing their exquisite drive.

My head tips back, another wave of ecstasy rushing through my veins. I choke on a gasping cry. Hips bucking in tandem with those plundering my body.

“We will tend to you as you sleep, dear blossom,” James promises.

His sweet words lull me deep into the darkness. My eyes close and I nestle into their embrace. Their hands and lips and pleasure continuing, even as I am lost to them. A new cycle dawning in my eternal existence.

#stucky x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #medieval au #mythology au #polytheistic au #dark #dark fic #dub con #tw dub con #the avengers pantheon #✨rachel replies✨#brasspistol

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onsunnyside · 1 year

Note

I’m sorry to do this (not really), but what you need, what we all need, is Step Dad Bucky.

He’s mean, so so mean that you resent your mom for marrying someone who clearly hates you. Except he doesn’t. He’s also the most inappropriate ever, touching you in ways a stepfather shouldn’t, invading your privacy. Your mom doesn’t see what’s the big deal.

You give in slowly, it’s noncon, then dubcon, then you’re always begging for his cock.

I’m thinking it starts one night when he goes to your room while you’re sleeping, takes his time with your body, and you wake up when his sinks his big cock deep in your pussy. “Shhhh, be a nice whore, baby. Let Daddy use you.”

he'll ground you for the dumbest shit, you don't even live with them bc you live in a dorm on campus but that doesn't stop him from talking with his friends who happen to be your profs about your grades. you got lower than a 70% on a test? grounded. you rolled your eyes? grounded. you try to avoid going home as much as possible, but you can't skip the holidays or outrightly ignore your mother's texts about missing you.

Bucky doesn't waste any time, leaning on your doorway while you settle into your bedroom, "I washed your sheets so they're fresh for you." You mutter a quiet thanks and eye the box on your dresser. "What's that?" "A present. You can't open it until after dinner though. And, if you misbehave or that attitude makes an appearance, you can kiss whatever is in there goodbye." As if you'd want anything from him. "Well, you can take it back now. I don't want it anyway." He laughs, rubbing over his beard while licking his lips, "You say that now but I think you'll be on your knees and thanking me later, sweetheart."

#stepdad!bucky #tw stepcest #sonnysprompts #bucky loving hours #tw dark #dark fic #tw dub con #tw non con #sonny drabbles

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 1 year

Text

The Perfect Life

Part Seven

Summary- 1.7k Dark Steve Rogers x Reader x Dark Bucky Barnes. You are a Doll, a Sweetheart, a Good Girl. Steve and Bucky finally achieved obtaining their perfect version of You. The woman that gives them days and nights of pleasure, comfort, and a stable home. You strive for giving them your very best, even if it means destroying yourself in the process.

Warnings- Dub Con, Reader struggling mentally, toxic relationship, Oral male receiving, marking reader with cum, spit swallowing breeding kink, etc. 18 + Only Blog. Read at your own risk.

A/N- There is only one more chapter after this one everyone! Please be kind and like, comment, and reblog. I so appreciate it.

Part Six / Masterlist

You were a Doll.

You smiled at the mirror in the bathroom to reflect that hallowed nickname. A perfect perfect doll made just for them. They were sure to tell you everyday.

You were a Sweetheart.

You strived to be their perfect girl, and the consequences made your stomach clench and panic rise in your chest like a wasp, relentless in torturing you. No no no you were a Doll, a Sweetheart, a Good Girl.

They told you just last night.

Your fractured mind craved those words now, that meant the day was going to be okay. Today you woke plastered to Steve’s back where you clung to him, he loved feeling you all over him. When you woke, you were so automatic. Wake him up in a way that will make him happy.

You dragged the blankets down till his limp cock rested against his thigh. Still intimidating, you rubbed him with kisses down his chest. It didn’t take long for the man’s body to react. Your tongue worked him, your mouth molded around his semi-hard on till he woke enough to grasp your hair, work your mouth up and down till you were taking him in your throat like he liked. You were sure to moan lewdly and glance up at him with all the love and submission you could muster.

“Good Girl Sweetheart.” He groaned while spitting in your face, making you messier then you already were with bits of drool already smeared on you. He yanked you off, your hands replacing your mouth, and continued to jerk him.

“Spit in my mouth Steve.” You begged while you leaned towards him, sticking your tongue out for him.

“My fucking filthy slut.” He smirked as he pushed you off him to your back and kneeled over you, jerking his cock himself. Your mouth was still open, waiting and he spat once more, making you hum as you swallowed it. It was so hot watching you like this, your body arching upwards in a roll like you needed him, offering your body and he jerked his cock faster, feeling his balls tighten suddenly as thick ropes of cum shot over your breasts and up to your face. “Fuck, FUCK.” He shouted before it was over, covering you in his spend. His cock went limp and you pouted a bit while running your fingers through his seed all over you and stuck them in your mouth. “What’s the pout for Sweetheart?”

“You didn’t come in my mouth.”

“I would rather come in this pussy.” His hand smacked at the tender spot between your thighs, making you squeal a bit, trying to snap your legs closed, but he fell between them, rubbing himself into you. “Later Sweetheart, you know I’m not finished with you yet.”

Now you stood in his bathroom, freshly showered, applying your makeup while telling yourself how you were a Good Girl, A Doll, A Sweetheart, your daily prep talk. Steve was just stepping out, his hand wrapped around his raging cock once more, dripping wet as he approached you.

You resumed the position, hands planted on the bathroom counter and ass out, looking at him in the mirror. His proud smile made you arch to your toes, arching your back all that much more.

“Fuck you are so perfect, Sweetheart.” A hand smoothed over your ass while he pushed himself into you, jarring you into the countertop. “Said I wasn’t finished with you yet.”

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

You were a Doll, perfect in every way. A Sweetheart, everything about you was welcoming. You were a Good Girl, able to make your men happy. You chanted these words over and over while Bucky held you in his lap, reading out loud over your shoulder with the occasional kiss to the side of your neck and whispered praises to your temple. Bucky like this was so affectionate and gentle. You appreciated this side of him. You were sure to try really hard to keep him happy because you didn’t want him to have to teach you a lesson. You tensed at the thought, the nightmare making you relive those moments when he was the enforcer, taking you to the barn, to the basement, to his bed.

Steve was wild in his rage, quick to dole out his punishment till he was sated. Bucky was cold and calculated. He took his time with you when he felt you needed to be reprimanded.

“Doll, relax Baby.” Bucky soothed in your ear, dragging you out of your thoughts with panic. Did you stop paying attention, no no, you couldn’t have let your mind wander. His arm was heavy around your waist to keep you against him.

“Bucky, Buck I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” You panicked, your words rushed. You were sure he was going to be disappointed in you. That first trip to the basement wasn’t your last and the darkness scared you so badly now because you didn’t know where they were going to strike next when you had to be down there.

“Sssh ssh, Doll.” He crooned in your hair, rubbing at your belly where his hand rested. “You were safe in my arms. Relaxing is normal.” You made yourself relax back into his chest, letting your head tip back.

Bucky could cause great pain, but great pleasure as well. Which you knew he was heading towards, wanting you to feel good with him. You were his Doll, you knew when to go limp in his hold and let him mold you into what he wanted. “Make me feel good James.” You whispered, knowing he would want to hear that. His breathing hitched in your ear as his lips skimmed the crook of your neck. The book was set aside so he could focus on you.

“Mmhh what do you want Doll?”

That was once a loaded question, back then you would have begged for freedom. Now, you wanted to make them happy, feel good, and feel loved by them. “You James.” You arched your hips for his hand that was stroking the inside of your thigh and over the cloth covering your pussy.

“You got me Doll.” He muttered as he had you arch up again, shifting the two of you till you were perched on his knees for a moment. You could hear the zip of his pants and then he wrapped an arm around your middle to ease you back. “Get on Doll.”

You reached between your legs to wrap your fingers around him, feeling him throb heavily in your touch. He was hard, always hard for you.

When you eased his cock against you and slowly let yourself lower on him with a muffled moan, stretching you open for him, he cursed with restraint while you bounced yourself to fit him further. “Fuck Doll, I gotta.” He grasped your hips and pushed you fully onto him, making you cry out while he hugged you, kissing your neck and groaning between his praises. “Feel so fucking good Doll, made for me, you always have been. Easy now, don’t move till you're ready.”

You tilted your head over your shoulder and gave a slight bounce, breaking out in a proud grin at how his face went slack and his hold tightened. You were more then ready for him, as he said, you were made for them.

“Ah Doll, just like that.” You started bouncing faster, your pussy flexing and squeezing around him, your arousal starting to make a mess of you both. Now and then you would push on him, grinding yourself into him while digging your nails into the arm of the chair.

“You feel so good James, I need to feel so full of you, all the way in my-”

“I know Doll.” He gritted out as he grabbed your hip with one hand and moved you up and down. His other shot between your thighs, toying with your clit till you were clenching on him, dangerously close to making him come. “You just give me what I want and I will fill you so full your cute little pussy can't handle it all.”

“Please, please.” You begged him, bouncing faster, both of you chasing that ending. You came first, his fingers expertly teasing you till the sensation made you need more and want to push away, you sank into his hold, letting him move you how he wanted, and when he bit your shoulder while filling you, you let yourself find comfort in his arms that he now wrapped around you, holding you against him while you both panted, letting racing hearts start to settle down.

“I love you Doll.” He muttered and you twisted your face into his neck, hiding against him.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

All alone in your bedroom once again, the evening starting to stretch into nighttime, the dark making your heart race as the shadows deepened in your bathroom. The mirror showed you a woman’s tired face, no longer really yours. It was all for them, that smile that was soft on your mouth, your eyes hopeful looking back at you. You were their Doll, their Sweetheart, their Good Girl.

But in here it was just you and slowly all those features started to fade away, that smile fell away to show tired lines etched around the corners of your mouth and your hopeful eyes went dead in the mirror, the shadows under them showing more now that you weren’t being their happy perfect woman.

Here the fear crept, the anger and pain, the rage at what was happening to you. You only allowed yourself to see this in fleeting moments of complete privacy. Here you were, broken and battered but trying to survive in your hell.

A creek of your bedroom door and heavy footsteps made the mask slip back on, peering happily in the mirror as the bathroom door opened to see Steve poke his head in. “You about ready Sweetheart?”

“Yes, Steve.” You said softly, still smiling at him.

“Come to my bedroom when you finish, Bucky is joining us tonight.” He informed you and you gave a curt nod.

“As soon as I brush my teeth, I will be there.” You assured him, blowing him a kiss into the mirror. You watched as a pleased soft smile came from him, your assurance comforting him that his perfect Sweetheart was joining him.

As soon as he left, your eyes glanced back at yourself, watching as a quiver raced through you and your expression threatened to break, the walls closing you in to your cage worst than before.

But then you calmed yourself, going back to being Bucky’s Doll, Steve’s Sweetheart, and the Perfect Good Girl.

#Dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel au #dark marvel au #non con #dub con #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #the perfect life #amber writes #sweater writes

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clintbartonruinedmylife · 9 months

Text

Sweet Omega o' mine

Chapter 15

“What happened?”

“We don’t know,” Fury said. “That’s why we sent Barnes to find out. He was here for two weeks before he disappeared.”

“And no one knows who has him?” Clint asked.

#clint barton #hawkeye #bucky barnes #winter soldier #winterhawk #dub-con #nick fury #omc #my writing #a/b/o dynamics

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buckyalpine · 7 months

Text

Dark Dr.Bucky x innocent reader

Look, proceed with caution. Things are not always as they seem. Dirty. Nasty. Filthy. Dark. All the smut. Imagine Dr. James Barnes, highly known and well respected in his profession, devilishly handsome and so young compared to others in the same field of work.

"Dr. Barnes will see now" The red head at the front desk beckoned you to the room, directing you to sit on the large reclining examination chair.

"Y/n?" James strode into the office, offering a warm smile before sitting at his desk to look over your file. He nods before coming over to you again, going through the motions of checking your heart, breathing and blood pressure first. "It says you've been experiencing some lower abdominal pain?"

"Y-yes-um, lower, lower than that" You mumble out as he lightly prods at your stomach to pin point where you're feeling discomfort. You had been too embarrassed to specify where you felt cramping. You really just needed someone to prescribe you something stronger than a Tylenol.

"Are you sexually active?"

"No" You shook your head, feeling your cheeks heat up, holding back a whimper when a wave of pain made you feel like doubling over.

"Alight, I’ll examine your pelvic floor and I’ll take a blood test just to be safe. Put this robe on and then lie back for me and place your legs on the stirrups"

Your eyes grew wide at the flimsy gown he gave you, slipping it on in the bathroom, before making your way back. You’d never felt so exposed, desperately wishing you could close your legs, heat blossoming at your core when you saw him slip on gloves.

"You may feel a little discomfort but it's normal" He reassured you, applying gel to his finger tips before prodding his fingers to your entrance, the sudden coolness making you gasp.

He continued to push his fingers in, pressing against your walls, curling them, hitting a spot that nearly made you scream.

“Does that hurt?” He asked out of concern seeing your eyes glossed over, though you shook your head.

It felt good.

So good.

You struggled to bite back a whimper that nearly escaped, wishing you could stop your arousal pooling out of you the more his fingers stretched you. He shoved them all the way in before drawing them back out, your sticky slick neatly dripping onto his palm.

He hummed, using his other hand to press down on your belly making the feeling of his fingers even more prominent, your cunt starting the flutter and clench around his fingers.

You wanted to die from embarrassment at the sounds that wanted to escape, a different kind of heat starting to spread through your thighs, making your pussy feel tighter and more sensitive.

“Let me just- Without warning, he started thrust his hand, adding a third finger, pumping in and out of you till you nearly ripped the plastic from the chair from your grip alone. You felt so close, so close to something you couldn’t describe, chasing a feeling you wanted over and over again.

“D-dr. Barnes” you stuttered out, nearly squealing when he flicked your clit with his thumb before rubbing tight circles onto your bundle of nerves. “Dr. Barnes!!!”

“It’s okay, almost done” he gave you a soft smile but something in his eyes darkened as they fell to your sopping hole, his fingers moving wildly until blinding pleasure took over and you let out the scream you’d been holding in. Your juices dripped onto the table, sweat covering your body, hardly feeling the same cloth he wiped you down with.

“Your prescription should be at the front to help with the cramping” he helped you onto your shaky feet, chucking when you nearly lost your balance.

“We’ll schedule another check up for next week”

Bucky's POV

So fuckin' tight

Bucky was glad he had his white coat on or you would’ve seen his erection pressed painfully against his slacks. He didn’t need to examine anything to know what was wrong but he couldn’t help it, not with those soft doe eyes you kept batting.

As soon as you spread your legs open, he couldn’t help but get more greedy. He fully intended on just checking on you but every time you bit back a whimper, he needed more. He saw the way your eyes rolled back, the way you were soaking his hand.

Your hope shifted to chase more of them and who was he to deny you.

That button between your legs was too tempting. He told himself not to, he couldn’t go that far but he could feel you craving it and any semblance of control he had went out the window. He couldn’t just leave your cute little button untouched when it was so pretty and swollen.

He nearly came in his pants as soon as he started to play with it, working you up till you were creaming on his fingers. His jaw hardened, breathing through his nose to keep his composure as his cock started to throb, thick ropes of cum soaking his pants.

He was addicted to you.

Maybe next time he’d take care of you using his cock. Convince you only his fat thick length would make his bunny feel better. He’d have you spread out on the table again, pushing the head in to warm you up.

He’d promise his cream would make you feel good. His cum was special, you needed all of his juices and he’d give you every drop. He’d fuck you and stretch you till you were in tears, pumping you with load after load.

He pulled his semi hard, cum soaked cock out of his pants, locking the door before furiously jerking himself off again, needing to calm down before his next appointment.

He couldn’t wait for next week.

I’m so sorry, I wrote this on my break, back to work.

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thepiper0fhameln · 2 years

Photo

“International Transfer of Assets” for @spintwinwb

This is the sad Tumblr version.

View it uncensored here on AO3 instead!

#hydra trash party #dub-con #Bucky Barnes #Vasily Karpov #Jack Rollins #nsft #my art

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megggyeggy · 5 months

Text

#writing #smut #fluff #castiel #dean winchester #winter soldier #bucky barnes #the walking dead negan #non con #dub con #request #reqs open

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foxgloveprincess · 2 years

Text

Another Taste Of Devouring Rush

Pairing: Pagan Gods Stucky x Female Reader [First Person Narrator]

Word Count: 8.8K

Summary: Growing up in a brothel, you’ve known and prepared for the fate that awaits you. But your madam’s scheme is looking for the highest bidder, and two potential bidders have caught your eye—though you’ve never seen their faces.

Warnings: Dark (Soft Dark Stucky), Medieval(ish) AU (Historical Inaccuracy because it’s a fictional setting), Polytheistic/Pagan Beliefs, Mythology, Yandere Behavior, Obsession, Possessiveness, Manipulation, Dubious Consent, Smut (Foreplay, Vaginal Penetration, Unprotected Sex, Loss of Virginity), Forced Escorting/Companionship/Prostitution, Virginity Auction/Bidding on Virginity, Innocence Kink (sorta), Minor Character Death, Abuse/Violence, Blood/Gore. All characters depicted/discussed as SWers are over the age of 18. Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: This is in the same universe as A Little Touch of Heavenly Light. Though I think it’s perhaps darker than Tony’s tale. Not just Steve and Bucky, but also the reader’s circumstances make this one a bit of a doozy. Anyone who gets the Man of La Mancha nod, you’re my new favorite person.

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work, at all. I cross-post to my own AO3 account. Seeing this anywhere else means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

Title from “Breath of Life” by Florence + the Machine

This is not Beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Enjoy!

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or unwilling to read/consume dark content, thank you!

I was born in a ditch, left naked and alone to die. Too cold to even cry out for my mother. A mother who abandoned me.

Another woman, named Aida, wandering through the cold streets deep in the night, stumbled across me and carried my fragile, near-frozen body to her abode. Tucked close to her breast, beating warm and welcoming.

The sign for The Broken Beast has always hung crooked over its doorway, welcoming customers to a small establishment of the world’s oldest profession. Not the most ideal situation for a growing girl. But no one ever touched me. Not the patrons, not the prostitutes. Not unless they wanted Aida’s wrath to rain down upon them like the tide of the Gods’ Blood. And it has been all I’ve ever known.

“You’re special, my jewel,” she says, brushing away my worries with the strands of my hair that stick to my forehead. “Only when you are ripe shall you be plucked.”

And every day I wait, learning from the women and men of the brothel—my siblings in trade. Etiquette, composure, seduction, sensuality. Blossoming and utilizing my developing talents to become appealing—the perfect fantasy. For I know, one day, that is my fate.

Yet every dawn, when their weary legs carry their heavy hearts to the small temple at the edge of the city and they bow before Ari the God of Pleasure and Passion, I weave my way toward others. The Righteous Captain and his companion, The Freed Soldier.

Of course, they remain silent. What use would two gods have for a future wretch. It soothes my soul, though, surrounded by their offerings. Gorgeous works of art and ornamented trinkets. No spark of envy in my heart, but a longing for that beauty. True beauty, when my world constructs it from fantasy more fragile than a butterfly’s silken wing.

I bow before them, my head resting against my hands, prayers muttered on syllables barely a whisper. My heart clenches in my chest and tears prick at my eyes. Hope a withering thing in my chest. Anticipating the day my precarious peace will shatter.

Shuffling feet alert me to an approach. Skye, her kind eyes gazing upon my prostrated form with pity. Not much older than I, but a mistress to many lonely souls. Still she remains soft, the closest person to a friend I have.

“Let’s go home,” she beckons with an outstretched hand.

I accept, as I must.

“You come closer every day, my jewel,” Aida declares, the flimsy material of her curtains obstructing her view of the street below.

My shoulders slump, sinking into my chair as my spirit droops within.

Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I conceal my distress with a pristine,“Of course, ma’am.”

“How are your lessons?” she asks, turning her eyes to pierce through me. Locked on every movement with an exacting precision. Never in my life have I been able to hide from her scrutiny.

“They teach me well,” I reply, folding my hands in my lap and shifting upon the cushion of the chair, sitting straight. I clear my throat of despair, biting back the temptation keen to voice my deepest desires and greatest fears. My ankles cross behind the chair’s leg, uncomfortable no matter how I settle. I feel it, deep in me. The question rises from within my gut, and before I can halt its progress I ask, “Shall I be presented upon the dais tonight?”

Aida scoffs, a fond smile tilting her lips. “Oh, my gem.” She stands and saunters toward me, lifting my chin with a gentle finger. “You shall be the most prized whore in all of the Nine Kingdoms.” She pats my cheek and returns to sit behind the sturdy mahogany of her desk. A ledger falls open before her, pages filled with names and sums. Her voice stills like water after it ripples, tone clear and dispassionate. “You shall begin to entertain tonight. But only the one who desires you most will have the chance to gaze upon you and enjoy your deflowering.”

I clamp my lips together, a distressed noise stuck in my throat. My gaze drops to my lap and my fidgeting fingers before I glance back up. Aida’s quill scratches more names into her book, waiting. She knows me too well.

“There are others, far more beautiful than I. My features bear nothing exquisite,” I insist with a gesture toward myself, heart pleading for my freedom toward the only mother I have ever known. Yet, as well as she knows me, she never seems to hear. “Should any new courtesan not do just as well?”

Regretful eyes meet mine. “Oh, my jewel, you are far more precious.” Her hands fold together and prop her chin atop her desk. She sighs. “Your innocence is far more potent in attraction than any fine face. And it shall win us a grand sum.” She stands and leans forward on her palms. “You shall be my crowning glory.”

The tears well along my waterline, blinked away and choked down. I nod. Anguish creeps along my spine, grasping at my heart and squeezing until my breath hitches.

“Of course, ma’am.” With my final word, I stand, bowing my head and retreating from her stifling expectation.

Descending the steps to the vast main room with its bar and many tables, my steps grow heavy, bile churning in my gut at the thought of strutting across this floor and seducing patrons for Aida’s purse.

Melinda greets me from her stool with a stoic nod. She tips back her drink and shifts silently in her seat. Though she says nothing, barely acknowledges me, her eyes flicker with the briefest glimpse of sympathy. It’s enough to draw me closer, settling beside her and dropping my head to the smooth, well-worn wood. Her presence—the slightest sense of her understanding—washes over me like the flames of a cozy fire in the dead of winter.

A bottle of aqua vitae clinks on the bar before my eyes, Melinda’s hand wrapped around it’s neck. She pours me a small glass, watching as I stare wide-eyed at the spirit.

“Don’t let them have more than they need.” The caution in Melinda’s voice startles me, the quiet woman not one to often offer advice. “Keep something for yourself. Your rage, your humor, your joy—keep something and tuck it away.”

“Thank you,” I whisper as I straighten to meet her gaze, gratitude lacing every word. My throat grows tight with emotion, tears pricking at the back of my eyes.

She says nothing more, grabs her bottle of mead, and swaggers away. Chin held high, shoulders straight, yet burdened by the many years of her trade.

I remain at the bar, staring into the cup before me and the rippling drink within. It’s never touched my lips before, but I’ve heard of the acrid burn, the numbness. Too many girls getting lost in drink before entertaining their suitors. The dangers and temptations. Delicate fingers trace the rim, a debate rampant and inconclusive whirring through my mind. In the end, I push it away. Deserting the bar for the solace of my shared room.

The day passes in distraction. Evening draws nigh. The sun dipping toward the horizon. As the others leave for the bar downstairs, to get to work and earn their keep, I begin the transformation. Style my hair. Rouge my cheeks. Dress in my finest rags.

Voices swell below, raucous laughter and tittering giggles of delight. A farce. But one that brings coin and keeps customers returning again and again. My lungs expand on a deep breath and I stand without another look in the mirror.

“No,” Aida chastises from the doorway with only a glimpse of me, her frustration leaking from her pores. “This shan’t do.” Her fingers pluck in disgust at my cheeks. A sneer contorts her lip, hands grabbing at my chin.

A cloth wipes rough against my cheeks and her hands peel away the unsatisfactory outfit. She insists I wash again and presents a fine garment of crystal blue—pure, almost holy in its shade. Her foot taps as I scramble to appease her, turning once I am finished and awaiting her approval.

Her face remains a careful mask, though preferable to the disgust of before. She reaches out her hand. “Come.”

I nod and follow, navigating the hallways of the brothel until we reach a room empty of occupant, but not of purpose. This place, once used for boarding, looks nothing like the barren chamber of the rooms where we sleep. Cushions in lush textiles line the floors. Colorful lamps swing overhead, flickering their flames. Swaths of fabric drape over once bare walls. A table rests before a long, translucent purple curtain partitioning the room.

Aida draws me over and places me behind it. “You shall sit here,” she instructs, waiting to continue until I find my place. Raised upon a platform to survey the room before me. “Entertain your guests and who knows? One may desire to keep you.” She smiles, no warmth to her eyes, but a greed that consumes her. One with which I am well acquainted. It strikes me with her every glance in my direction.

“Yes, ma’am,” I whisper.

She hums and spins on her heel, exiting with a click of the latch on the door.

Many pass over the threshold throughout the night, curious eyes seeking the Beast’s jewel. Some leave after a glimpse of the gossamer barrier. Others stay longer, sitting before me for a moment of my time. Ever demure in tone and bearing, I entertain them—ask of their stories and charm them as I’ve been taught.

It is not until the late hours of the night, when a kind older man departs with promises of a return, do I receive my final callers.

Two figures enter. Strutting into the room with all the air of royalty. They sit like kings across the cushions, sprawling in a display of regal leisure.

“My lords,” I greet, my chin dipping toward my chest, a gesture of deference still visible through the barrier.

They do not speak for a moment. The silence elongating until I shift in my position and contemplate how I should continue to address them.

“What’s your name?” one asks, pleasant and genuine curiosity lacing his rich baritone.

Whether he expects a pseudonym or the truth, I answer with my name on a stuttered breath, struck by his gaiety and left intrigued.

“Your age?” he inquires.

Again, I answer with the truth, counting the years of my life. Older than the youngest who sell themselves here, well into womanhood and past the hopefulness of youth. The perfect age, Aida once said, to know better, yet not know at all.

He hums. His companion remains silent. The companion’s head tilts, and I shift once more. Despite the gossamer partition fixed between us, his eyes bore through me. I swallow and match his stare, waiting.

“Tell me of your tastes,” the first continues. And my gaze drifts from the silent figure.

“Tastes, my lord?” I question, not quite grasping his meaning. “Do you wish to speak of certain proclivities? Or—”

“Your favorites,” he intones, voice warm and soft with a tinge of amusement rife on his tongue. It’s sweet and disarming. I pause, contemplating the correct answer when he prompts, “Just the truth will suffice. Tell me of the foods you enjoy. The colors that catch your eye. The songs to which you long to dance.”

“I,” The words cuts off as my mind scrambles for the truth—too many thoughts whirling like a windstorm in my mind. I focus on the response most easily given. “My palate may not be as well traveled as some, sir, but I enjoy the sweet buns from the bakery down by the temple.”

“You enjoy sweets, then? All the better,” he jests with the confirmation of my reluctant nod, “for now I know a weakness. I must use it to my advantage.”

A laugh—a spontaneous thing, unpracticed and genuine—bursts from me. My lips spread in a smile.

“And you, sir? What are your weaknesses?” I inquire, with an honest interest lurking behind my words. Never have I felt the necessity of knowing potential paramours in such a way, but something within my belly yearns for it now.

“He’s bullheaded, and always pursues heavenly creatures without relent,” the companion speaks for the first time.

His voice, soft and smoky, wraps around me and dizzies my head. My eyes trace his obscured form, and I breathe a laugh again. The delighted sound accompanied by them both.

The rest of our night, we spend in each other’s company, exchanging pleasantries and small tidbits of favor until Aida shatters our peace to escort the potential bidders out.

Disappointment sits heavy in my gut, but I wait for my madam’s return. She sweeps into the room and brushes the curtain away, a twinkle of triumph in her eyes. My lips part on a question. Yet it goes unanswered, guided as I am to my rooms to sleep and prepare for the rigors of the next evening.

Many more visit the second night. More the third. But each night, I wait. Bated breath and hopes high, anticipating the the arrival of the two lords who begin to occupy my every waking thought.

Each night, always the last, they return, enlivening me with their attention and gentle affections. They grow bolder, sneaking closer toward the curtain. Prodding at the boundary between us.

“Why deep purple, little blossom?” one asks, soft voice reaching me. His fingers skim the fabric, catching on the tips and tugging until it flutters. “I have seen many don the color here. Is it the brand of your establishment?”

I swallow, leaning away from his unconscious lure. So close to them, so thin a barrier between us. The impulse tickles my spine and bids my fingers move—but I resist.

“My lord,” I explain with caution, “surely you know, in these lands, purple is the mark of a whore.”

Silence stretches.

Broken by a growl—an almost inhuman sound, accompanying a cutting assertion, “You are not a whore.”

I swallow, a spike of fear flickering at the base of my skull at the strict remonstrance. Lips parting, my mind scrambles for an apt response. Working through stunned and fluttering thoughts, I reply, “I am not, as of yet, my lord.” My head bows, unwilling to peek at their figures behind the delicate material. Heat warms my cheeks. “But I might be yours.”

A sharp inhale meets my ears.

The door bursts open, Aida ready for her nightly routine. The men stand, unmoving for a moment as they attempt to peer at my visage. To no avail as the curtain remains in place, not a shift or quiver.

No, the only quake comes from my blood, thrumming through my veins in an intoxicating rush. I wait, as I always do, for their reaction—just one more word from either of their lips. My fingers sink into the cushion beneath me, threatening to rip the cloth and expose the feathers and fluff beneath. But they remain as silent as me.

In incremental movements, I begin to stand. My legs untuck from under me, lifting me up. A shaking hand reaches forward. Fingers brush the fabric and begin to grip. Though my reason rebels against the instinct, every fiber in my being wishes to gaze upon their faces. To trace their features and drink in their presence without any impediment.

“My lords, if you would follow me,” Aida insists. Her tone breaks me from my thrall, barbed and biting—her ire roiling behind a composed guise.

When she returns, her nails dig into my arms, grip tight and painful. There is no gentleness in her treatment that night. Only a threat and a lesson learned.

Journeying with the others the next morning, I find the temple on an empty stomach, coaxed to deliver the first of my offerings to the God of Pleasure.

Everything within me revolts at his feet, bowing my head and refusing to utter my prayer. But I offer a coin from my meager purse before weaving my way toward beauty.

It feels right, supplicating myself to the patron of lost souls. The Freed Soldier looking upon my fatigued frame with indifference.

“I cannot go on,” I lament at his feet, unable to glance at the altar of the Righteous Captain, knowing too well how conflicting my position is to his virtue. Only the Soldier may be my confessor this morning. “This venture, it taints me—spreading like a stain until it will cover every part of me.” Beneath my skirts, I loose a tiny sachet from around my thigh—a few aromatic herbs, a shard of iridescent glass, and a speckled pebble encased inside. “Please, I beg you. I will be loyal all my days.” Tears drip down my cheeks, and splash across the tiled floor. “Help me,” I whisper from quivering lips.

There is no answer.

The night falls, as it must, and I return to my shrouded position. The faces blur in their familiarity from behind my curtain. Voices returning from the nights previous. Aida keeps new, curious gazes away—culling the interest pool to those wealthy enough to bid for my innocence.

The older man returns from the first night, his voice jovial. Though he doesn’t tell me it, his name sits scrawled on a piece of parchment resting under Aida’s arm, along with the others who vie for my attentions.

They’ve started to sit closer, their curiosity feeding a need to discern my appearance. But none catch a glimpse—none that I wish to catch a glimpse.

Except for them.

Only one comes that night. His companion absent from his side. My heart sinks, distraught and cycling through notions of my failure before he speaks.

“I hope you will forgive me,” the man excuses, sitting before the curtain, pressing probing fingers across the translucent cloth. “I wished for a moment of your time, alone.”

My throat clears, mind searching for the words to express my curiosity and sate my incompetence with answers. “Then your friend has no need of my services?”

“No, no,” he rushes to reassure, “business calls him away this night. Though he should return tomorrow, neither of us wished to lose an opportunity to see you.”

Relief floods through my veins, a grin stretching my lips. “I suppose that will do.”

“Be assured, my sweet, we shall only ever have you together.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. His implications and passion striking me to my core. His figure leans closer to the drape, so close I might perceive his features if it were more sheer. Even still, his proximity ensnares my senses, scenting the faintest hint of sage on his clothes, the brush of his breath. My heartbeat thumps in my ears.

“You shall be my sweet, shan’t you?” he questions no louder than a whisper.

Before my thoughts can form coherence, my lips murmur, “yes,” without pause, fervor rife in the declaration.

“Then I have something for you.”

He turns away, hands procuring a bag tied to his belt. He offers it out. Just on the other side of the curtain but no further. I reach for it, charades of anonymity and mystery cursed to the riverbed.

The curtain parts around my arm, fingers grasping at the pouch. A hand locks around my wrist, lips descending for a tantalizing caress. I gasp.

The man smooths his fingertips over my skin. Such tenderness, reverence in the gesture. And I sit still, unable to break the sanctity of the moment until he releases me with a final kiss to my knuckles.

I swallow, a lump forming in my throat, impeding any sentiment I might utter. My eyes flick away from the shadow of his face, locking onto my gift and untying the ties. Pulse fluttering beneath my skin, every fiber of my being grasps for composure.

Peeking into the linen bag, my fingers pluck out a small, dark shard which melts in my touch.

“Eat it,” he encourages, eager and insistent. “It’s called chocolate.”

I hesitate, wondering at the food, trying to discern its flavor without a taste. Yet chocolate is not something with which I am familiar. But the shard finds its way to my mouth, melting as it did between my fingers. It coats my palate with sweet bitterness. A sound of delight trills in my throat, looking to the man who offered such a fine gift.

“Thank you,” I whisper, still struggling to form words and lost in the pleasures of the treat, and even a simple offering of gratitude feels ill-equipped to convey my appreciation.

“Steve.”

“What?” I ask in confusion, glancing toward the pouch now resting in my lap and back to the gossamer.

“Steve,” he repeats, a patience to his voice, “it’s my name.”

“Steve.” It repeats on my tongue, sweeter than the chocolate still lingering. “A pleasure to know your name, my lord.” A smile pulls at the corners of my lips. An ache growing within my chest—inexplicable yet all-consuming. Akin to tenderness, affection. Accompanied by a pang, worse than those of a growing body. Knowing he and his companion are still but one of many who might win my innocence. Possibility and probability and favor warring against our fates that may not align.

But I disregard it. Allowing my own indulgence, engaging Steve in conversation and gaiety—as if I were not hiding behind a veil, and he were any man I might meet on the street.

And the next night, they return together. My endearment to them growing even more incisive. Heavy as a boulder within my chest and piercing through me. Yet I have been taught well. A charming air shielding my true feelings from them, just as my face remains concealed.

“What think you of your other suitors?”

The jubilance of my laughter ceases. Stunned by the man’s inquiry. Steve turns to face his companion, fidgeting in his seat. My eyelids blink, batting away bewilderment.

“They are of no concern, my lord,” I rush to say, stumbling over the words. Dread slithers down my spine, colder than winter’s frost. “You may be my only master, should you wish it.”

“And what would be the price of that?” he growls.

“James,” Steve reprimands, cautioning his companion and introducing me to him for the first time.

Though my throat dries and my nerves pluck with discomfort, I reply, “I will never set the price, my lord. It is not one I wish to collect from you.”

Silence settles between the three of us. Long moments spent with our own thoughts. A chair creaks. A cup clinks. My breath stays within my chest, refusing to escape my lungs.

“Do you wish to be ours?” James asks, an edge to his words that I cannot define nor fathom.

“More than any other,” I reply.

“No matter the price,” Steve intones, question woven with an intensity much like his companion’s.

“Yes, my lord.”

It is the last thing I say to them. Their bodies rising as one and exiting the room. A strong, determined steeliness lining their shoulders and regimenting their gait.

Aida barges into my room, expression a blazing inferno of rage. Her nails sink into my arms, dragging me from my bed and shoving me against the floor.

“You think to trick me, to make a fool of my endeavors?” she questions, tone sharp and pointed.

My chin ducks, unaware of my slight against her. Trying to puzzle together whatever infraction I have committed.

She tilts my gaze up, fingers squishing my cheeks and nails biting at my skin. “I own you,” she seethes. “Until the breath leaves my lungs and my soul fords the Gods’ Blood, you are mine and no one else’s.” She pushes me away and I yelp, head smacking against the frame of Skye’s cot. “Play your games with your suitors, my gem,” she spits, “but do not think you may challenge me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I whisper, still lost and perplexed by her sudden wrath. But unwilling to provoke it further.

“Now,” she straightens, smoothing her hands over her bodice and turning her gaze from me. Yet still it sends a shiver down my spine. “You shall pray with your sisters and brothers at the temple. And come the evening, you shall see no more of those two lords who think themselves your keepers.”

I swallow hard, nodding and waiting to gather myself until her steps retreat down the hall. Head dizzy, I stumble to my feet and brush away the tears lining my eyes. For I know of whom Aida speaks. No two other men had sought me so ardently than James and Steve. I sniff away the distress and smooth my dress. Leaving my sorrow tucked away in the empty room.

My steps tread heavy toward the temple. My knees aching before Ari. Sorrow clings to me like a shroud and I cannot remember the words of my prayers before his feet.

I stay with my siblings at the temple, too forlorn to find my way to any other god to plead my case. Aida has spoken. As the madam of the brothel, her word equates to law and I cannot defy her. I cannot even fathom any strength to try.

Skye wraps her arm around me, guiding me back toward the temple door. Passing by a priestess with a half-veiled face, my steps falter. Her hand stretches before my waist, blocking my exit.

“You so often find your way to this temple,” she states, her voice smooth and deep. A curl of shocking red hair falling to brush her cheek. Feline eyes scrupulous as they survey my frozen form.

My throat dries, a spark of fear curdling in my belly. “Yes,” I reply on a stuttered breath.

“You do not seek out your gods today,” she presses, gaze narrowed.

Skye’s hold tightens upon my arm, a firm tug urging me away. But even she knows the respect owed to those in service of the gods. I release myself from her grasp and turn more fully to the priestess, whose emerald eyes shine with some divine knowledge.

“You know our station, sister,” Skye replies for me, biting even as her gentle hands reach for my waist. “Our prayers are sent to Ari in the morning light.”

“Yet her prayers are not yours,” the priestess refutes, turning her attention away from the woman at my side.

I swallow, lips parted on some protestation that does not come.

The priestess’s hands enfold mine, a small object placed in my palm. Voice soft, she whispers, “I have seen this appear upon their altar only when your prayers are the most sincere. Yet you have never noticed that it is yours.” With no further explanation, she bows her head and spins on her heel, returning to other duties of the temple and leaving me stunned with the weight of such a holy gift in my hand.

“Come,” Skye urges, wrapping her guiding arm around me again. Her eyes trail after the priestess, confused and wary.

My hand drops to my side. The points of the trinket prick at my palm, but every notion in my head knows without doubt that this precious thing must be protected. That Aida must never know it has come into my possession. It slips beneath my pillow, a ten-pointed star strung upon a smooth string. Out of sight and safe and mine.

The evening looms closer with the passing of hours, my heart heavy in my chest. For I know, with Aida’s supervision, I won’t see Steve or James again.

As the sun descends on the horizon, despite my disappointment, I carry myself with charm and poise. Hoping to endear myself toward one of my few other suitors. For I must. My life hangs in the balance of their favor.

“So, my dear,” the older gentleman inquires, “what shall I bring you?”

Swallowing down my dry throat, I reply with words fit to choke me, “Just yourself, my lord. I only wish for you.” The falsehoods are bitter on my tongue, forced. And I cannot help but compare them with the truths often spoken with my two favorites, the ones forbidden to me.

Instead, I am left to please strangers, to lure the rich and bait them with innocence and false fidelity. It drains me each night. The first passing with no sign of Steve and James. The second falling with little hope.

Until a crash sounds from outside my room. A cacophonous racket that sends me jumping in my seat. It startles my suitor as well—a younger man pleased by strokes to his ego and unconcerned with truth.

“What in the Land Beyond is happening out there?” he huffs, standing from his place and stomping toward the door.

Only to be forced back as it bursts open and another figure storms inside. He calls my name, his rough voice a boon, lifting my spirits—James.

I stand, stepping toward the gossamer partition and wait for his approach. My tongue ties in my mouth, unable to exclaim in curiosity or astonishment, simply gazing at his form through the curtain. Sounds from without reach my ears, more crashes—broken cups and chairs. A ruckus that must have stemmed from him.

“You entertain them still?” he questions, hushed and incredulous. Reaching through the barrier between us, his touch wraps around my wrist. With a gentle tug, he attempts to draw me forward—an attempt I reluctantly resist. “You need not. Come.” He urges me forward again.

“My madam forbids it, sir,” I protest, voice quiet as a mouse yet as loud as I can make it. I do not budge from my spot before my pedestal, nerves a flurry of fear and confusion fluttering within my chest.

He pauses, grip pulsing around my wrist with a stern strength. “You wish to stay here with them?” James spits the words with contempt, releasing me as if I scalded him.

My lips part on a confirmation I cannot voice, silenced by an inability to form the proper words on my tongue. Tears prick at my eyes, dripping in cool rivulets down my cheeks.

He huffs a scornful bark of a laugh, shaking his head and turning toward my evening’s patron. “You think you may have her?” he questions, tense shoulders held like a threat, feet stalking forward. “You will not.”

“Wait!” I cry, hiccuping a sob in distress. My hands grip the curtain, threatening to tear it from its hanging. “Please, James. Don’t—”

Another figure fills the doorway, just as broad and strong. He steps inside and closes the door behind him.

“Are we ready?” Steve asks, his voice sure and soothing.

“She will not come,” James replies, turning his attention back toward me and approaching on ominous steps. “Yet.” He whispers the word, almost against my lips through the thin barrier between us.

His head tilts. A moment of calm passes, our breaths shared. But striking out in an instant, his hand wraps around my nape and drags me forward until his lips crash against mine.

The fabric remains between us, but I taste his ardent desire in his touch and kiss, shaking me to my core. His heat burns me, tantalizing and tempestuous. And just as suddenly as he had ravished my senses, he releases me.

“You have promised yourself to us, lost little blossom, do not forget,” he murmurs against my lips before stepping back toward his companion.

They both leave through the door without a glance back. And I am left stunned. Lifting gentle fingers to trace my lips, my knees weaken beneath me and I fall upon my cushioned seat.

Dazed, I continue my duties of the night, inattentive and lost to contemplation. Of Steve and James’ reappearance and urgency—of the hunger in James’ kiss. Ill-defined figures pass before the curtain, shadows forming the men left in my cadre of callers. Even in my dreams, hand tucked under my pillow and clinging to the star, I cannot bid my thoughts settle. Instead, it replays in my mind over and over. The press of James’ lips. His hand on my skin. His heat. The piercing of Steve’s gaze. His soft voice. His calm in the midst of chaos. Fantasies weaving together, leaving me in fits of sleep and waking with a gnawing need.

It is the first time my prayers ring sincere as I bow before Ari—beseeching his lenience, desire threatening to overwhelm and consume me.

Sitting before his feet, morning light soft against my skin, I prostrate myself, bending low and touching my forehead to the cool stone floor.

“Ravenous One, God of Passion and Pleasure, patron to lovers and the fallen, grant me clarity, I beg.” I speak through the dryness of my throat, spine pricking with awareness, knowing the bodies lined beside me might overhear my whispered plea. Yet I persevere knowing I can neither abide nor endure my heart beating for two men I shall never have. “Give me strength to fulfill my duty, to obey my madam, to forget those I—” Words threaten to fall from my lips, perched precariously on my tongue—words of love and affection I cannot entertain. I finish the thought, swallowing down those tempting utterances which wish to be spoken, “to forget those I fear I cannot.” My voice cracks, as fragile as my state of mind, searching for mercy—from my desires, from the gods, from myself. I lick my dry lips and stumble over the rest. “So I may serve you in all ways, a loyal and ready supplicant to indulgence. And may the Gods’ Blood flow forever and ever.”

The candles before the god’s feet flicker. A soft draft brushing against them. I sigh and stand, patting my hands against my skirts and placing my offering upon the altar. A strip of luxurious fabric taken from my cushion wrapped around a small flask of Melinda’s best mead.

Staring up at my new patron god, tears sting my eyes. A soul-deep acceptance settling within me. His fiery eyes gaze down at me, unseeing and unsympathetic.

Preparing for the night brings me to the partitioned room, shrouded in secret and ready to beguile.

An hour passes. Aida’s presence stifling in the close quarters. We wait in silence, yet my madam cannot stay still. Her irritation and uncertainty growing with each passing second. Her shoulders tense. Her fingers pressing to her cheeks and kneading the flesh there. She casts glances toward me over her shoulder, staring at the door with a glare.

“What have you done?” she grits out between clenched teeth. Though she doesn’t turn, she waits for my answer.

“Nothing ma’am, I don’t understand. I thought—”

She raises her hand to silence me, storming from the room.

Alone, I puzzle over the absence of my suitors. For they had all been eager—if not for our carefully constructed rapport, than for the thought of defiling my body. Surely they could not have all lost their interest in the span of one day.

My teeth sink into my lower lip, worrying over the flesh as dread rises like bile up my throat. To disappoint Aida would be a sentence worse than death—for she would make it so. Hands clasped before my chest, I mutter a prayer to Ari, pleading for my salvation.

And it comes with the opening of the door.

The older gentleman, the one with kind words and a penchant for trying to charm me in return, enters my room and sits before my curtain.

“You must forgive me my tardiness,” he excuses with a good nature. “I was discussing some business with your madam.”

“Please, sir, uh, do not fret over such matters,” I rush to appease, stumbling over the placation with a huff of relief. “I will wait for you, with pleasure.”

He makes a happy little sound in the back of his throat and eases into his chair, conversing with me freely and distracting me from the lack of other men eager for my company. He stays until Aida collects him at the end of our night, ushering him out with promises of satisfaction.

And my routine shifts abruptly. When I stand to weave my way back to my bed, the latch on the door will not budge. Locked in the lavish room, I’m once again left waiting with no explanation.

The door opens again, a delighted Aida waiting for me without. My brow creases with worry, unsure of this abrupt change in temperament.

“My jewel, come with me,” she begs with a gentle hand guiding my elbow. “Master Radcliffe quite enjoys your company and has just this night bid for your maidenhead.” She smiles over at me, brushing her fingers against my cheek.

Everything within me braces so that I do not flinch under her touch. “So he will be my new master, ma’am?” I inquire, keeping my voice steady though it wishes to crack and crumble into sobs.

She hums an amused sound. “Only for one night.” She tucks my chin with her finger before drawing me toward her personal chambers. “If he wishes to own you, he shall have to pay a much more fine price.” Her fingers pinch at my upper arm. “If you wish for more, you shall have to please him, shan’t you?”

She chuckles and prods me into her room. Her bed sits pushed into the corner adjacent to the window. Before the window, her desk. Across sits a cabinet—one I know well.

The box bed waits with its doors open, the bed still small and cramped and lined with soft linens. My childhood spent locked away during the night, to keep me from wandering eyes and hands. It used to make me feel safe and protected. Now, the space sends a bolt of fear up my spine.

“Ma’am?”

“In you go, my dazzling jewel,” she urges with a tinge of impatience, pushing me toward the door and dipping her hand between her breasts to retrieve an old, iron key. “We must assure your innocence only one day more. I promised Master Radcliffe we would take every precaution.” She smiles, a sinister glee sparkling in her eyes. “I will bring you your meals and allow you to bathe before your formal introduction.”

My feet hesitate, stuck to their spots on the floor before the bed. My lips part on a plea, but there is no time for its utterance.

“Get in,” Aida insists, a firm hand on my back shoving me inside.

My legs tuck beneath me just as the doors swing shut, the lock clicking into place and leaving me in darkness.

Her steps retreat and her door latches, though the flame in her room continues to flicker on its wick. The candlelight a sliver between the seam of the bed’s doors.

My knees fold beneath me, the flat pillow cradled to my chest, face tucking into the cushion. Filling my body with air, I struggle to remain calm. Forgotten memories flash before my eyes, nights spent crying within these sheets, waiting for a kind word or comforting embrace.

Skimming over the wood to my side, my fingers find the small notch of a carving. The two stars well-worn by so many years spent tracing the crude shapes. Sinking into the bed and turning on my side, my shaky breaths calm, legends of the Righteous Captain and the Freed Soldier stirring a gentle warmth within my chest. Years of learning my destined craft accompanied by an overheard story, a whisper of legend, a glimpse of splendorous offerings.

My lips press together. My eyes close. There are no more prayers for me to utter, but still I spend a restless moment with thoughts of them before I drift off to sleep.

The doors rattle. An unsteady hand presses the key into the lock of my bed, the iron clicking several times. I jolt awake, body forced upright.

“Is everything alright?” I ask, fearful of the answer. Despite the fatigue clinging to my limbs, I remain alert, heart pounding as no response returns. “Aida?”

The low light of the early morning greets me when the doors swing open. The grey fog outside Aida’s window tints the room with its dreary presence. Befuddlement strikes me. It is far too early for the girls to be awake and readying for their prayers. And I was sure I would not be permitted for the sake of my intact innocence. But instead of Aida standing before me, Skye’s wide eyes stare back in terror.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper, foreboding dripping down my throat and pooling in my belly.

“You,” her voice cracks and she glances away a moment before sniffing and turning back to me, “You have to come with me.”

Her hand reaches toward me in offering, spattered with crimson drops. My head tilts as I accept. Sore bones from the cramped space protest when I stand. But I make no complaint, focused on my friend—her mind wandering on thoughts I cannot comprehend.

She rushes away, dragging me behind, her steps quick and frantic toward the room I share with her and a few others. Though their beds are disheveled from sleep, they are absent. My lips part in inquiry, but Skye proceeds with urging me to wash and dress, glancing over her shoulder after every move.

“Wear this,” she insists, helping me don the gown of crystal blue—the one I wore my first night behind the veil—though it sparkles more now, shining incandescent in the dim light. “It is what they want.”

“Aida and Master Radcliffe?”

Skye’s head shakes in denial, but her quivering lips do not grant me any other crumb of information. So I am left following her, and stuck in bewilderment. The house remains far too quiet as she finishes readying me. Only thoughts of Aida’s endeavor make sense as Skye checks my appearance. No other explanation forms within my mind. Yet she denied it.

“Hurry,” Skye beckons with urgency. “We can make them wait no longer.” Her voice cracks over the words, eyes shiny with tears.

I only pause one moment, reaching beneath my pillow to take the gift from the gods and shove it within the pouch of my pocket. Then my hasty steps mirror Skye’s, unsure yet scared for her distress, descending the stairs to find a captive crowd.

By the time my feet find the middle step, the scene stretches before me in gruesome spectacle. Cowering in fear, my brothers and sister of the brothel remain by the bar—dotted by the same crimson splattered against Skye’s hands. On their faces, their clothes, staining their skin. Before them, lining the floor sit eight heads. Unfamiliar faces filthy and sitting in a pool of blood, their mouths open and eyes bloody and burnt hollows. Flies buzz about the room, landing upon slack lips and tongues, burrowing into the empty sockets. The stench curls in my nose, death and decay striking pungent and vile. Bile rises in my throat and I freeze. The horrific sight, inexplicable and grotesque, stays my step. Even as Skye prods me forward, I cannot force myself to continue.

Then I hear my name, honey sweet and calm, from a voice I know so well. “Please, join us, my sweet.”

I comply on trembling legs, swallowing hard and fighting back the urge to heave and scream.

Steve and James stand in the center of the room, swords brandished and dripping. Pride in their bearing, a confidence borne of their bloodthirst. Just as crimson speckled as the rest, yet faces alight with satisfaction.

Skye scurries toward our siblings, stepping carefully around the congealing substance on the floor. Welcomed into their terrified and protective embrace as all eyes turn to me.

And I’m alone at the foot of the stair, unable to tear my gaze from the two men I once thought my salvation. Our focus does not waver, though mine darts between the two. Trying to fathom the meaning behind their display. Unable to place a name to their face—seeing them for the first time, unprepared for their beauty and their brutality.

“Who,” I croak, clearing my throat in the attempt to speak louder than a whisper, “Who are those men?” My trembling hand gestures toward the macabre sight.

“You do not recognize them?” one asks, brow tilted in skepticism. That voice—James? My head shakes in response, denying any knowledge of the men. He hums, pleased by the response. “They thought themselves worthy of you. To sit beside you and relish in your company.”

My eyes blink, a slow motion that tempers the faint feeling that assaults my head. A hand reaches out, gripping the bannister of the stairs and my other plunges into my pocket through my dress, grasping the pendant in an effort to ground myself.

Lined up in a row, the men who bid for my maidenhead. Tracing their features with my eyes, sickness assaults my senses. My knees bend beneath me, weakened by the thoughts flurrying through my mind. The meaning of such violence. The cause for such ghastly arrangement.

And then I see her. Behind the line of dismembered heads, contorted in an unpleasant pose sprawls Aida’s corpse. Her eyes staring blind toward the ceiling and arms splayed to her sides in unnatural angles. A thick, jagged line of red slices across her throat, no longer spurting her blood, but slick with it. It coats down her dress and across the floor—the source of the pool beneath the necks of those unfortunate men.

I hiccup a sob, the sound stuck in my throat. Crashing around me, the world slips from beneath my feet. My legs collapse. Only the strong grip which wraps about my waist keeps me upright. Not Skye or Melinda or any other from the brothel. No. My head tilts, the sight of my rescuer churning my guts in a nauseous wave. The brown hair that brushes his shoulders, the crystalline gaze which pierces through my very soul.

He shushes my whimpers, caressing his fingertips across my cheek, a look of awe brightening his features. He smiles.

“Loyal for all your days,” he murmurs, focus attracted to the parted flesh of my lips. An aborted noise of horror chokes in my throat. “There will be many of them.” The promise rings in my ears as he rights me on my feet and gathers me close, bringing me toward his companion.

“I believe formal introductions are in order,” the other says, standing tall and stalwart beside the severed heads, triumph straightening his shoulders. “We’ve waited for this moment for so long. Though I will admit, we hoped for more amenable circumstances.” His hand reaches up, scratching at the beard on his cheeks, a sheepish smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

I’m released by the brunet’s arm, left standing where the pool of blood just grazes the side of my shoe.

A babble of noise rises from those by the bar, harsh and harried. One swift glance from the blond stops it short, before a single phrase may form.

He turns back to me, catching my eye and bowing his head. The softness of his expression, the warmth of his stare, before he utters the words, I know. “I’m Steve, little sweet.”

“I’m James,” the brunet intones, a smirk plucking at his upper lip. He holds himself with a bold smugness I do not understand, until he open his mouth to speak again. “Though perhaps, despite our many meetings, you might know us better by a different title.”

A subtle glow begins to form around them both. Not from the rising of the sun, though it does begin to crest the horizon. It is something innate within them that grows and brightens. Almost until it burns.

He gestures to Steve with a tilt of his head. “Patron to artists and carrier of justice.” His hand sweeps before himself as he steps forward, snaking his arm back around my waist. “I shoulder free will and aid lost souls.”

I do not need to speak the words aloud. Though they sit, perched on the tip of my tongue. Instead, the Soldier sees them in my terrified gaze and nudges my chin with one of his fingers. But my head shakes and shakes and shakes, denial coursing through me.

“Will you come with us now?” Steve asks, stepping forward, a hopeful tilt to his brow. He reaches forward and gently grasps my arm, lifting it until my wrist sits within his grasp and he can brush his lips across the skin of my hand.

“Or must we extinguish this whole place?” Bucky inquires, whispering into my ear with a glance sent toward the people standing by the bar.

I swallow, heart stuttering in my chest and heave a deep breath. “I will go with you,” I reply around the lump in my throat.

In the Land Beyond the River, where the gods reside, time moves differently. Every morning I wake to a new day, full of luxury and leisure. Yet every night it is the night of my ruin.

Wandering hands, whispered words—over and over and over. My innocence taken from me again and again with the same affection and tenderness as the first night when I was stolen from The Broken Beast and found myself in the God’s Domain.

“Here, little blossom,” James coos, pressing a ripe fernberry to my lips, “taste this and let me savor it on your tongue.”

My teeth pierce the flesh, tears already welling in my eyes—waiting for the moment it comes. When he will brace himself on my thighs and sink into me. Juice dribbles down my chin, tilted back so that Steve might lap at the sweet nectar.

“You are divine, my sweet,” Steve sighs, fingers cradling my jaw and holding me steady.

Contorted as I am, I never ache—at least not for long. No matter how they may handle my body, my muscles never weaken and never tire. Instead, their ravenous embrace holds me tight until each is satisfied and I might drift away on pleasurable waves of respite.

“Say it,” James prompts, the same words every night.

I swallow around them, stuck behind my teeth. Though each night it gets easier and easier to say it, to confess and lay myself upon their mercy, to believe it with my whole heart. “I love you,” I say, repeating it like a chant, captured by Steve’s lips until they’re muffled in his kiss.

My thighs part wide, held by caring hands that smooth over the skin with a devoted reverence.

“And we love you,” James assures with a soft smile, “more than you will ever know.”

His member, thick and turgid, brushes against my delicate petals. My breath catches in my throat as it taps upon that sensational bundle of nerves.

Fingers ease his way, stretching me until my lips parts on a moaning gasp, the very core of me weeping for them both. Then, with a tilt of his hips, James begins the plunge. It stings, as it does every night. No amount of gentleness or preparation readying me for that initial thrust.

His hips rock against mine, furthering himself into me. Steve holds me secure, cradling me against his chest, keeping my legs wrapped over his, and my arms locked to my sides. He murmurs sweet sentiments into my ear until my mind turns hazy, dripping with their syrupy honey.

“That’s it. I’ve got you,” he coos in my ear, “our most precious girl.”

“Yes,” I moan as James stills, the sting of his length accompanied by an all-encompassing hunger. The longer he remains dormant within me, the more ravenous it grows.

James presses a kiss to my cheek, lips drawn in a smile. “Right where you belong.” He grasps my chin with sticky fingers, tongue licking into my mouth and tasting the sweet fruit and passion that coats my palate. He hums and consumes.

And I let him, reveling in it. Aching for it.

How many days have passed thus, I cannot count. Each as steady as the way James plunders me. His hips striking against mine in his fervor. He chases our ecstasy and drags me with him until we plummet into bliss. And Steve does the same. Maneuvering my body to his whims. His tender attentions guiding me until I fall again and again. Until no thought lingers in my mind, but of them. Not the slickness of the sweat on our bodies nor the coolness of the silk cushions. Not the brilliant moon lighting the horizon nor the crash of the river upon its shore.

Just them. Always them.

read more of The Avengers Pantheon at The Undone and the Divine

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #medieval au #polytheistic au #mythology au #the avengers pantheon #dark #dark fic #tw dub con #dub con #yandere vibes #smut #heed the warning #18+#minors dni

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juicyfruit22-library · 2 months

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#stucky #pandafish #marvel #dub con #u-teen #omegaverse #alpha steve #omega bucky #doctor au

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 1 year

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The Perfect Life

Deleted Ending

Summary- 2.9k Dark Steve Rogers x Reader x Dark Bucky Barnes. This was the ending I wrote two years ago. But it felt wrong. I had to change it but didn't have the heart to delete it.

Warnings- Dub Con and breeding kink.

A/N- Enjoy this deleted scene of what could have been.

Masterlist

You stood at the kitchen counter, four slices of bread out on the counter, and you hummed softly as you spread smooth peanut butter on one, and crunchy peanut butter on the other. Next, a jar of blackberry preserves was spread on the sandwiches. Pressing the bread together, one was cut without the crust. The other is a precise diagonal.

Two glasses of milk were poured and set on the pristine table. You turned off the radio playing softly to keep yourself company and called out the screen door with a cupped hand. “Kids! Lunchtime!” Giving a few moments, you pushed open the door while your dark-haired son and blonde-haired daughter raced up the steps, followed closely by their dog. You had to grin as they both collapsed in the chairs.

Hard to believe they were no longer babies that needed your every minute, your kids were growing quicker than you liked as you worked on picking up the kitchen. They would be home soon and that meant you had to have all the chores finished for tonight. You hated disappointing them, the lessons were usually harsh and tonight had to be perfect. Your gaze lifted to the barn just outside, it seemed to loom as a warning of what would happen if you didn’t do as you were expected to do.

You were lost in your thoughts when Nattys voice said a little louder. “Mommy, when are our daddies coming home?” Your little sweet blonde haired daughter looked so much like her father, it made your heart clench as you looked at her. You could see Steve’s expression in waiting for an answer all over her face.

Sammy also nodded between crunchy bites of his sandwich, and you took a look at the clock above the stove. “Oh, they told me they would be back by tonight, before your bedtime. So... another five hours. Time enough for chores and baths before they get home.” You said on the sterner side, and they both wailed in protest.

“Alright you two! enough of that. Come on.” You went over to the table and sat in the other seat, grinning at them. “You know you always get to stay up an hour later when they get home.” Sam looked over at Nat and shrugged. “Moms got a point.” Your cooler headed son, it made a soft smile grace your lips. He also took after his father. Calmer than his sister most days, he was the voice of reason for your two children.

“True...” The little girl said as she finished off her milk and last bite of the sandwich.

Crisis averted. After they were finished, both the kids went to do the few chores assigned to them and play, later that evening you three were outside, you sitting on the porch steps with Mutt the dog while Nat and Sam ran around with some homemade bubble solution, trying to see who could make the biggest bubble when an all to familiar rumble came from above your heads and went around the back of the house, making the ground vibrate with the arrival.

The wands were abandoned and both kids raced around out back, while you waited, listening to the excited squeals and cries of 'Daddy' emitting. Soon enough both men came around the side of the house, Bucky carrying Nat and Steve listening to a very animated talking Sam. Bucky came up first, whispering to Natty who grinned before he let the girl go who Immediately hoped over to Steve, wrapping around his neck and nuzzling her father.

“Miss us Doll?” Bucky drew you up off the porch steps and you wrapped your arm around his neck, smirking up at your super soldier.

“No, nice to not get squished between you to in bed.” Bucky arched a brow and you grinned, going to tiptoes and giving him a kiss, like you know he was wanting, whispering against them. “Course I did. It's always good when you two are home.”

“That's the answer I was looking for, fucking minx.” Dragging out the kiss, he let his hands roam your back and squeeze your ass a bit, making you arch into him and you bit your lip.

“Now who is the tease.” Dancing out of his hold, he watched you a second and then mentioned loud enough for the kids to hear him.

“It's getting late you know? How about some bedtime stories kids? Bet I can beat you two up those stairs.”

Steve let Nat go and the two of them kissed you goodnight before they followed Bucky inside, quick to race up the stairs. “I will be up in a moment,” Steve answered before turning to you, his eyes shining when he finally got to pay attention to you. “Beautiful as always.” Steve grasped the back of your neck to bring you in close and you move up to your tiptoes to reach his mouth. He placed a possessive kiss on you, deepening it with a groan before letting you ease back to your feet. “I missed you Sweetheart,” he admitted as you caught your breath, smiling up at him.

“Hard Mission Soldier?”

“A long one, Buck and I told Tony that we were going to need a bit before he sign us up for another.” His hands roamed down your sides to grasp your hips, his fingers digging in slightly and you rubbed his chest to ease him, feeling the tension riddle him.

“We all would really like having you and Bucky home more. Go upstairs and spend some time with Sam and Nat. I will see you and Buck afterward and we can talk more about this.”

“Okay.” He pressed one last kiss to your lips, this one gentler in his embrace. “You better be upstairs and ready when we are done putting the kids to bed.” Steve was sure to warn you before he pulled away and went upstairs.

Watching him descend up the stairs, you look down at Mutt, parting his head. “Come on boy, gonna be a long night for me I think.”

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You made your way into that yellow room, that had long since turned into a shared bedroom for the three of you. As you donned a simple sleep tee for now, you listened to Bucky read the last of a children's book and Steve in the hallway, easing one of the kid's doors closed. “G’night Buddy, Love you.” Silence started to settle over the house as the bedroom door opened, both of them came in and saw you sitting on the edge of the massive bed. Steve veered off, starting to get undressed while Bucky immediately went over, pulling you up to a stand once more and dipping his fingers under the shirt.

“Couldn't wait to get back to you.” He was drawing you into his lap when he sat in a chair by the window, his fingers bunching in the shirt you had put on, and dragged it over your head, once gone you carded your fingers through his hair, brushing it back while you smiled.

“I felt the same way Soldier. I missed you two.” He leaned back enough to take a admiring look at you and cupped your breasts, his fingers teasing you to tight peeks, licking his lips. Behind you, Steve rubbed your shoulders, and tilted your face back, to look down at you while your expression turn hazy with lust.

“Good thing you're going to show us then, Bucky were going to fill her all up, fuck so good that she will be a dripping hot mess. What do you think about that Sweetheart?” Steve smirked as Bucky dipped a hand between your spread thighs, making you whimper as he rubbed your gathering slick over your folds.

“Oh she's so fucking wet and needy already. Just wanting to be pounded on our cocks. Fuck her so good, maybe put another baby in her?” Bucky looked at Steve, and he nodded.

“It's a good time, we've been talking about staying home more. What do you think? Fuck another baby into you tonight?” Steve pushed a finger into your mouth and you sucked on it with a needy expression, nodding with enthusiasm. You made him chuckle at your needy whine, Bucky filling you with two fingers, making you arch and roll your hips to fuck yourself on his fingers.

“Yes! please," You asked so nicely around Steve’s fingers and Bucky opened his pants, Steve releasing you to sit on the bed and watch the two of you. “Put a baby in me, fill me back up. I need it.”

You reached for Bucky’s cock, pulling it out and stroking it with just a slight squeeze you knew he liked. “Good Girl, but you need to turn around, let Steve see how good you look getting fucked.”

Easing you to a stand, he twisted you to face Steve, who was now palming himself from where he sat at the edge of the bed and Bucky knocked your thighs apart while sitting you back down. His cock nudged against your entrance and slowly you lowered on him, stretching around the almost impossible size, making you inhale sharply and moan as you dug your nails into your thighs. “Fuck...”

“Doll, I know you can handle it.” He grasped your wrists and brought your hands to hold onto the back of his neck, causing you to arch your back and give Steve a view of your body tightening. Bucky’s hands moved to your hips as he kissed your shoulder, starting to move you with a firm grasp on your hips. At this angle Bucky always felt bigger, his cock dragging back and forth, hitting you deeper and harder the faster he started to move you. “Gonna leave you dripping and you're going to thank me.” Your nod at his words he’s pressing into your skin, sucking marks onto your neck, showing that you belong to him.

Steve is watching the way your breasts bounce and you start rolling your hips, looking to take more of Bucky as he tilts himself up to fill you. Your slick is coating your thighs while those lewd moans of yours started spilling sweetly, head tipping back to get lost in the sensation. Steve’s cock started throbbing to bury into your cunt, pounding into you till you were a sobbing mess. Your face contorted before his eyes, Bucky angling just right and twisting your nipples, you arched as you started to roll back your eyes. “Don't stop Buuuu...” and you drifted off into a wail, Bucky biting down on your shoulder and moving you faster, harder, more demanding as he filled your pussy, just dripping all over the chair. Steve smirked seeing you get fucked but he didn't wait for you to recover, to worked up to wait for you.

Bucky pushed you off his cock into Steve's hold, smirking as your head tilted a bit, trying to focus. His hand wrapped around his angry cock, stroking and squeezing while Steve pushed you onto the bed. Your hips were lifted and knees pushed under you to keep you on all fours, your face pushed down with a firm press of his hand against the back of your head. You moaned out in some form of surprise while trying to clench your thighs. Steve gave a firm slap against your ass that made you jolt and fist your hands into the sheets beneath you. “You still with us Baby?”

“Yes Steve, I'm still here.” You panted and he gave another slap on your ass just to see his hand print on you, spreading the cheeks and spitting on your tight hole.

“One day we’re going to have to fuck this perfect ass.” the tip of his finger circling around and pressing against the rim. You bury your face into the mattress with a hiss and when he pushed in past the tight rim, you tensed up.

“Relax baby, it's not that much. This time.” He lowered over your back and kissed your shoulder before pulling back and taking his thumb away to admire the way you clenched, working his pants down in the process. You were relieved to feel his cocks head, press against your clit instead of your ass hole this time. His cock pushed between your folds and you can feel him slide it back and forth teasing. “Steve!” you hiss out and look over your shoulder at the blonde super soldier just teasing you, pressing and circling against your clit before dragging back to your leaking entrance, still full of Bucky’s cum.

“Needy thing, ain't she Steve?” Bucky chuckled from the chair, having the perfect view of you and Steve on the bed. You gave a wiggle of your ass to entice Steve to finally fuck you while whining.

“She sure is... guess those extra few days were just too hard for her.” Steve replied and you hissed in slight frustration. Just pressing himself into your entrance and stopping.

“If you don't continue I'm gonna...”

A snap of his hips made you scream into the mattress at the suddenness and his rhythm was a fast-paced claim, making you cry and hiss, biting at the bedsheets. “Your gonna what, Sweetheart? Make demands?” Steve's hand curled around her shoulder so he can shove you back to meet him, digging his fingers in harshly” “Come on baby, I can't hear you.”

Bucky came over and moved onto the bed, pushing your shoulders up so your hands were planted onto the mattress and you had to lift your chest off the bed. Steve never slowed down pounding into you from behind with bruising fingers marking your hips to keep you still, your head lifted to see Bucky's cock in front of you. “Your in no place to make demands Doll, but I am. Open up.” His cock slapped your mouth till you parted your lips and looked up at him with wide eyes and eagerness as his hand fisted in your hair, When he started to rut into your mouth, taking him faster than usual with the way Steve was fucking you from behind. The motion kept you being pushed and pulled between them, gagging you on Bucky’s cock.

You really went mindless now, you didn't have to think beyond the fact you were being fucked between two super soldiers and this might be the time you finally break being pummeled with all that serum filled power.

Soon you were being filled with Steves's seed, painting your pussy with him while Bucky was sure to have you swallowing him down, each one easing from you with gentle strokes of their hands, praising you for being a good girl while you sink into the mattress. You savor the gentleness of getting tears brushed away and praising kisses flowing up your back and along your neck. Steve moved off the bed with a stretch, looking down at you as you nuzzled against Bucky's hand cupping your face and giving gentle caresses to your cheeks. “Beautiful Doll, but you don't think we're done yet do you?”

“No, of course not.” You said softly and Steve leaned over to kiss your temple.

“We will clean you up though.” Steve scooped you up while Bucky went for a warm cloth. Steve cradled you in his lap in the chair by the window, your face burying in his neck with a content sigh. It was always like this with them, their claim on you was unrelenting and you welcomed it now with open arms.

They continued going all night till you couldn't handle it anymore. Finally let you fall asleep between them.

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It was later in the morning when you finally woke up. Your eyes blinked and you stretched slightly to moan out. Your whole body ached and you lifted the blanket to look at yourself. Riddled with bruises from Steve and Bucky’s enthusiasm, you were already prepared for the way their love would show up on your skin. They always had the desire to see you covered in their marks. This time it was bruises instead of knife marks. Your move to sit up against the pillows when Bucky came in the room, carrying a tray with steaming food, a cup of coffee, and a smaller sunflower laid on the side. “Morning Doll.” Bucky greeted while setting the tray down. “Wondered when you would be joining us again.”

“That late?” You ask while picking up the coffee and taking a sip, knowing it would be made just the way you liked it.

He gave a nod and settled down while you set your cup aside and picked up the sunflower, tracing the petals before setting that aside for something that looked more appetizing. The buttered toast was soon partially inhaled. “Yes, just about ten thirty. Kids were up early, so Steve took them out for a hike out back.” Bucky shifted over and put his arm around your shoulder, kissing your temple. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm okay.” You say as you pick up your fork, and dig into the eggs, scooping them onto a bite of toast. “Sore, but nothing to be worried about.” You bite into it with enthusiasm, and Bucky can't help the grin on his face, seeing you so excited about the food he brought.

“That's good, 'cause Steve did want to discuss what we talked about last night,” Bucky mentioned before relaxing back and, watching as you continued your breakfast.

You didn't say anything, there was nothing to say. You knew your place with these two men, and just like it was promised before to you all those years ago, they would treat you well. As long as you didn't break the rules. You belonged to them, they could do with you as they wanted. Your life was here, in this house, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by sunflowers.

#dark steve rogers and reader #dark bucky barnes and reader #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #the perfect life #non con #dub con #deleted scene #amber writes #sweater writes #marvel au #chris evans characters #sebastian stan characters

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