waywardcrow

[waywardcrow]

avengers + name meanings

“‘cause if we can’t protect the earth, you can be damn sure we’ll avenge it.”

[waywardcrow]

I think one of the things I loved more about this is the fact that this is not the first time they sleep together, the fluff and just plain couple vibes of them knowing they are going to wake up cuddling it’s just too good 🥺. Then Bucky feeling guilty for saving her and having her get hurt, also the massage part, I was shaking in my boots Bella! It was cute but also fucking hot, of course I want Bucky Barnes to take my muscle pain away with his hands and then he having his way with me haha but it was so sweet that he wanted to wait 🥰.

I told you this already but I love it, how sweet they are, the way the got together and the promise of their relationship.

Thanks again for writing this incredible stories 🩵.

when you’re ready, come and get it

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: no explicit smut. sexual content. some fluff. 18+ only.

words: 4.7k

notes: another random two am fic drop - who’s surprised? the starting dialogue of this fic had been sitting in my docs for almost two years and i finally got around to actually writing something for it lol. i hope you like it! thank you in advance for reading. as always, any comments and reblogs are always welcomed and so appreciated. let me know your thoughts! 🩵

Your back is sore as you head toward the door of the cramped little apartment you’re stuck in for the night.

Safe ‘house’ your ass.

“You had to use all the hot water?” Bucky yells from the bathroom you exited only minutes ago. You smirk to yourself and roll your eyes as you reach for the handle of the front door, “You’ll live,” you yell back, letting the closing of the door behind you signal your exit.

You’re in sweats and a long sleeve, sneakers on your feet and your phone in your pocket as you begin the short walk to the Chinese restaurant just down the street from the building you're staying in.

It’s been a long, grueling day and you are starving.

The further down the street you get, the closer the smell of the food - it keeps you moving despite the aches that are wrecking your body. Unsurprisingly, getting shoulder tackled by a super soldier leaves you a little worse for wear.

You almost groan out loud at the thought of him.

You have no idea how you’re going to get through this night.

It’s dark out, but the street lights gleaming off the wet pavement and the storefront signs of the few places still open light your way. At least it stopped raining.

You recognize the name of the shop, stop in front of the door and head in. The entrance bell jingles and a young man comes out from the back to greet you. You give him your name and only have to wait a minute before he comes back with the bag of food you ordered before your shower.

Your stomach growls as you start back down to the apartment.

All you want to do is climb into that bed, pop some advil, scarf down this food, and hopefully sleep off the pain you can feel creeping up your body, slowly but surely.

Your hunger again encourages your speed and before you can get lost in any thoughts, you’re back at the front door.

You unlock it and unthinkingly push it open with your shoulder. You grimace and bite back a growl at the pain that radiates up your neck and down your arm, and at the memory of being sent flying into trunks and boxes lining a cement wall, which you also ended up colliding with.

You sigh and shut the door, locking it behind you. You set the food down on the dark wooden table in the area you call the kitchen. You begin to take the containers out before you turn around to face the bed.

Your eyes narrow in on him instantly as annoyance surges in your veins at the sight before you.

“What are you doing?” you ask sharply, an accusation in your tone.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he replies without looking up from the tablet he’s working on. His hair is damp, a mess of dark brown he keeps behind his ears and out of his face. His brows are furrowed as he reads, all the while he’s laying with his ankles crossed, relaxing on the bed shirtless with his grey sweats low on his hips. Fucking hell.

You bite your tongue, fighting the scowl threatening to take over your face.

“Laying down in my bed, that’s what it looks like.”

“Who said it was your bed?” he challenges, finally looking up at you.

“I did. Just now. And also when we first got here two hours ago,” you point out.

“Well, it’s a good thing you have absolutely no authority over me, then, huh,” he smirks tauntingly as he tosses the tablet to the side.

“Get out of the bed, Barnes.”

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, sweetheart, but I’m not moving.”

He crosses his arms like a defiant toddler, his blue eyes almost twinkling with a dare to challenge him, self assured as he always is in your arguments. You lick your lip,

“I mean it, I’m not getting on the floor.”

He shrugs, “Don’t care. Not my problem.”

You can feel your skin getting hot from your irritation and your neck straining as you tense. You really aren’t in the mood for this. You can’t fight right now.

Well…you could. But you won’t. You have food to eat, you can argue who sleeps where later.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, “Jackass.”

You ignore him and walk into the bathroom without closing the door behind you. You wet your hands for a second under the sink water and then pump the sweet smelling soap into them, lathering up and washing your hands. Despite the sound of the running water, you can clearly hear the crinkling of the plastic bag that contains the food as you imagine Bucky is sorting through it all. You finish washing and turn the water back off.

“Don’t touch my lo mein,” you warn him, voice raised as you dry your hands on a towel.

You lean your head out past the door and see him as he twirls some noodles from your container.

“Jackass!” you accuse, throwing the towel down and marching from the bathroom right toward him.

“Don’t be greedy,” he chastises through his bite before grabbing his own container, unphased by your reproach.

“Greedy? As if you don’t have your own food.”

“Sharing is caring,” he taunts before he walks back over to the bed.

Your eyes follow him in disbelief. He sits back in his spot and makes himself comfortable. You scoff before turning back to the table. You grab your opened container and the pack of utensils the restaurant gave you and walk over to the bed, too. You feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you get to the other side of the bed.

“I told you I’m not moving.”

“And I told you I’m not sleeping on the floor. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

“So we’re sharing, then?” he asks. The smile pulling at the corner of his lips is easily pushed aside by you. You don’t want to read into it, so you won’t.

You twirl some lo mein and take a bite, “Sharing is caring,” you echo him as you make yourself comfortable.

You lean over and grab the remote to the 40 inch television hung on the wall across from you. You can complain about the tight quarters and the singular bed, but at least the place is relatively liveable. The tv was a surprise, but welcomed.

You leave it on the channel it lights up on, reruns of some procedural you’ve seen a hundred times over.

You eat in uncharacteristic silence, but every so often you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. You don’t return his gaze, instead staying focused on your food and trying not to show your discomfort when the pain in your shoulder and neck blooms deeper as the night goes on. You’re grateful he seems to be worn from the mission, too. If he wasn’t, you know he’d have found something to pick with you about by now.

An hour passes and you’re both done with your food. You throw your trash away and head to the bathroom. You leave the door open as you brush your teeth and Bucky enters just as you finish. He watches you intently as you take a pain pill before shoving the bottle, along with the rest of your toiletries, back in your bag. Still, he’s quiet. You would normally call him out for his silence and staring, but you don’t have it in you to start something right now.

You turn to walk out of the bathroom and accidentally bump into him as he moves to step toward the sink.

You hiss at the pain it sends through you, so quiet that had it been anyone else, they wouldn’t have even noticed the sound that escaped you. But this wasn’t anyone else.

You don’t stop walking after you bump into him, just head back toward the bed without pause. Trying to act like nothing happened and that you are perfectly fine. Which you are! Aside from the stabbing pain radiating up and down your arm... you’re good.

You pull the comforter out all around the bed - better to avoid any tugging and pulling in front of Bucky if you can.

As you’re about to climb onto the bed, Bucky emerges from the bathroom. Still shirtless, still oddly silent. It’s starting to get a little unnerving now.

Slowly, you lay down, being careful not to move too fast and doing your best to not move your arm too much.

Bucky gets into bed beside you. You don’t want to, yet you can’t help but notice how gingerly he climbs in. As if he’s trying to make as little movement as possible.

You try to get comfortable, it’s not the first time you’ve had to share a bed on a mission, but with Bucky there’s always that extra heat…tension. Your pointless arguing about who will sleep where, both of you knowing you’ll end up sharing again only to vow the next morning to get the bed to yourself the next time you find yourselves in this situation, it’s damn near routine now. And yet, the tension remains. And the pain you’re feeling isn’t helping in the slightest.

Neither is his shirtlessness. He’s always like a furnace but somehow it feels like he’s radiating even more heat without the barrier of a shirt. You’d love to pull off your own, but the tightness in your shoulder would definitely protest the motion.

“You alright?”

Bucky’s voice breaks the silence. His tone is soft, voice quiet, but it still startles you a bit, catches you off guard.

“Uhm,” you breathe, hesitating, “I, uhm… ‘m fine,” you whisper back. His eyes are on you, you can feel them, but you don’t turn to look back at him.

A beat.

“Would you mind getting the light?” you ask in the same hushed tone.

Another beat.

The bed creaks a bit as Bucky gets up without a word.

The light cuts out and the television is the only thing left glowing in the darkened space of the studio.

He gets back into the bed, being just as careful as he was before, and grabs the remote you left in the space between you. He shuts off the tv and you take a breath, relaxing a bit now that you know he can’t really see you all too well.

You grimace as you readjust your head and shoulders under the pillow.

Ow.

You lay in silence. In pain and discomfort.

…You have some arnica in your bag you could roll on, but that would give you away in a second. You could roll onto your side but then you’d be facing Bucky and you don’t want to make things awkward…er.

You wait a few minutes before you peek over to him in the dark. From what you can tell, his eyes are closed, his breathing seems steady… Fuck it, you think. Whether he’s sleeping or not, you don’t want to feel this any longer than you have to. You quietly push the comforter off of yourself, kicking it off your feet, and delicately roll yourself up.

You keep the layout of the space in mind as you navigate around in the dark. You’re tiptoeing carefully, hopeful you haven’t accidentally woken him up as a floorboard creaks beneath you when you get to the table you left your bag on.

You find your toiletries bag and feel around until your hands grasp your roll-on. You walk lightly back over to the bed where you sit down.

You unscrew the cap and start rolling the cooling bliss up your neck and on your shoulder - the small part of it that’s exposed by your shirt, at least.

You sigh to yourself and loosely put the cap back on, dropping the bottle beside you.

Fuck it, you think again. Shirt’s comin’ off.

As soon as the material of your long sleeve is over your head, the lights come back on, eliciting a harsh gasp from you as you jerk your head in the direction of the light switches.

“Fucking hell, Bucky!” You chastise as you bring a hand up to rub at your neck. You moved too quickly when the lights came on and now a new wave of tension stabs at your neck and shoulder once more.

How the hell he managed to get out of the bed and across the room without you hearing is beyond you, but you aren’t really all that surprised.

“So when you said you were fine,” he walks back over to the bed, “what you meant was..?”

“Was that I’m fine,” you repeat yourself firmly, head downcast as you keep your back to him.

The smallest bit of self consciousness flares inside of you as you realize you’re in only a bra and sweats as he’s free to scan your body behind you, but you quickly decide you don’t care. You’re more focused on the strain and his apparent concern for you.

The bed moves and you feel the roll on being grabbed from beside your thigh. Bucky is right behind you now; you feel yourself freeze and inadvertently tense even more.

You inhale sharply as his hand meets your skin. You don’t move as his finger slips down the strap of your bra. You listen intently as he unscrews the cap and you sigh again as he moves the arnica roll on up and over your shoulder, just slightly down the slope of it, and then back up toward your neck as you let your arm relax, and then your head as you tilt it in the opposite direction to allow him more access to your neck. God, that feels good.

“I didn’t mean for you to get hurt,” he says quietly.

You furrow your brow. “I know that.”

“We didn’t have time, I wasn’t thinking,” he starts.

“I was directly in their line of fire, Bucky, I know.” You reach back and take the bottle from him, he lets you as you keep your gaze in front of you and your back to him. “Is that why you’ve been so quiet?” you laugh softly, “You felt bad about pushing me?”

You screw the cap back on and toss it, along with your shirt, gently to the floor beside you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, ignoring your questions.

“You don’t have to be sorry.” You finally turn to face him, moving your whole body, bringing a knee up on the bed as you climb back onto the mattress. “You saved my life…again,” you add. “Thank you.”

Bucky scoffs as he sits back on his haunches, still facing you. The mentholy smell of the arnica rub is thick in the air, but you don’t mind it. You look at him, his hair still a mess, his normally icy blue eyes just the tiniest bit darker now. You force yourself to look away before your gaze once again drifts down to his solid chest.

You huff as you lay back down in your spot. The roll on and the advil you took earlier are helping with the pain, but the tightness is still bothersome.

“Still?” Bucky asks with a raised brow.

You roll your eyes. “Not all of us have super healing abilities, Barnes.”

His tongue mindlessly wets his lips as he considers you. “Turn over,” he tells you, his long hidden Brooklyn accent making its rare appearance. Your lips twitch at the sound. One of the reasons you enjoy arguing with him so often is because of that damn voice. His accent gets thicker when you’re in your back and forths… You’re hit with realization then of what he just said and you’re sure your confusion is written clear as day on your face as you give him a look,

“Sorry?”

“Turn over,” he repeats.

“Wha-,” you titter nervously, looking up at him as he stays on his knees next to you. “Why?” you question.

“Would you just listen to me for once? Turn over before I turn you over,” he orders.

You ignore the tingle in your belly…and lower, at his instruction and the easy air of authority his voice so effortlessly holds. Half the time it irritates you, but the other half, though you try to push it away, gets you feeling like this.

You swallow thickly and blink away from his intent gaze before you slowly move to turn yourself over without causing any pain.

You take a shaky breath you hope he doesn’t notice as you adjust yourself, trying not to smother your face in the pillow.

You’re not sure what he’s going to do, your body is buzzing with the unknown, your nerves are on edge, but here you are following his orders nonetheless.

The bed shifts as Bucky moves closer and you don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you feel his touch again. You shudder as he lets his hand ghost from your trap, over your shoulder, and down your arm. The bed shifts again as Bucky straddles you. You can feel his warmth radiating off of him, his knees on either side of your body.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You breathe, and stay quiet. Bucky waits a moment longer before he continues.

It starts slow, his touch soft yet firm as his hands massage you. Your eyes close without your permission as you exhale a heavy breath. This is good. Really good. His hands are like magic as he applies just the right amount of pressure to your back. He works a tight spot and another heavy breath leaves you.

Oh fuck… that wasn’t a heavy breath.

That was a moan.

It doesn’t stop him, but you, you’re mortified. Your eyes snap open and you hurriedly try to push yourself up. It’s to no avail. Bucky keeps you down easily with just one hand on your back, the other lightly squeezing your shoulder. Your heart is going to beat out of your chest. You don’t really know what it is you’re feeling right now, but you think it might just be the end of you.

He’s essentially on top of you. and he’s warm. and strong. and even beneath him, he smells so damn good.

You don’t feel helpless often, but right now, under Bucky, being kept in place like this by him, you do. Like prey caught by a predator…

Except you don’t feel scared.

Embarrassed, but not scared.

In fact with Bucky, you always feel safe, protected. Like earlier today. He had your back, he was watching out for you, like he always does, whether you’re fighting or not. He’s always there.

He squeezes your shoulder soothingly just a bit more, “Relax,” he eases, his thumb rubbing into your tight muscle. You force yourself to breathe again and relax back down into the bed.

You do feel a little helpless, but god help you, you think you like it.

“This is okay?” he asks, voice deeper now as he starts massaging your back again, working a little deeper.

It takes you a second to voice your affirmation, and it comes out as more of a deep hum, but he takes it.

Your lashes flutter once more and you sigh, another soft moan slipping from you as Bucky adds slightly more pressure. His hands move a little lower as he works at the tension in your back, and he leans in a little closer as he speaks again.

“This okay?” he rasps in your ear.

Your breath hitches as you slacken even deeper into the bed.

“Yes,” you murmur headily. It’s not just from his touch, it’s that it’s his touch. You’ve done this dance with him before, but you’ve never gotten quite this close. You’ve shared heated moments, wistful stares, lingering touches, almost kisses, hell you’ve woken up in his arms before on nights like this, but it’s never been quite like this.

The base of his palm rubs at a particularly tight spot. He massages you carefully… and when you suddenly feel his lips press against the skin of your shoulder, you can’t help but whimper at the contact. You think maybe you’re imagining things, that his touch just feels so good it’s causing all these thoughts to run wild in your head…

Then you feel his fingers brush against the band of your bra.

“Bucky…” you waver.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathes.

You don’t even give yourself a second to catch up before you respond.

“No,” you mew.

His hands squeeze your soft waist and his lips brush your skin gently. Another weak moan leaves you.

Bucky smoothly unclasps your bra and his hands ghost over your back as he pushes it off of you.

His touch falls to your hip where he takes hold of you once more. You can so easily feel his strength in his grip before he pulls you lightly to turn over toward him.

You do just that, slowly and carefully, until you find yourself right beneath him, his heavy lidded eyes set on you, his lips parted as he takes you in beneath him.

Your hands find the waistband of his sweats and you pull him closer to you. He lowers himself down and your noses brush as he comes in even closer. You’ve wanted this for so long. You breathe each other in for a moment before your eyes close and your lips finally touch. It’s soft and hesitant, just a single kiss. Then another. And another. And then all at once, it’s a whirlwind of fervency. Your hand is crawling in his hair as you hold him closer. You try to lean up into him, but he stops you and follows you back down until your head is resting on the pillow. You murmur your protest and you can feel Bucky’s smirk against your lips. He kisses you one more time, deep and lingering, before he finally pulls away. You’re breathing harder, looking up at him with nothing but want and desire swimming in your gaze.

He lifts a hand to rub at your shoulder gently and you sigh at the feeling.

“Feels better?”

“Yeah,” you breathe with a light nod.

“Good,” he breathes in turn. Your brows furrow in confusion when he moves from above you and instead lays down next to you on the bed. You had a different idea of where things were about to go…

Your bra is halfway off and you don’t know whether you want to remove it completely or pull it back on. Oh god… maybe this was all just a dream, your fantasy playing out all too realistically and tricking you.

While your mind is worrying itself, Bucky rolls onto his side, facing you, and gets your attention. His hand comes to rest on your lower tummy, smoothing over to your hip. “I didn’t realize you’d gotten hurt earlier,” his voice is low and sincere. “I really am sorry.”

You watch him bring his hand over to the strap of your bra, the cool metal chilling your skin as he drags it down your arm. You don’t stop him as he does, instead you let the other strap fall further down your arm before you pull it off altogether and drop it off the bed and onto the floor. He moves in closer to you and his eyes fall to your lips. He inches closer before kissing you again. His hand ghosts up your waist as you murmur against his lips, “‘s’okay,” you shake your head at his needless apology, kissing him back. His wandering hand cups your full breast and he kneads it, your nipples peaking at his attention. You moan into the kiss, getting a low groan from Bucky in turn as he deepens it, and you attempt to roll onto your side and into him to be even closer.

Again, Bucky easily stops your movement, gently pushing you back down, but not breaking the kiss as he follows you.

“Wha?” you mumble, pulling away from him, “What?”

You’re getting more confused and frustrated the longer this goes on.

He laughs and your eyes narrow at that goddamned smirk on his face.

“Look, sweetheart, as much as I’d love to take this further,” he simpers, bringing a hand to caress your cheek softly, “you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” you argue back.

“Just lay down,” he laughs again, “relax. You’re gonna be even more sore in the morning. You don’t need me making it worse.”

“I can take it,” you try to argue again, to defend yourself, really.

“I’m sure you can,” he allows with a soft smirk, “But if you’ve been feeling this between us for as long as I have, two more days of waiting ‘ll be nothing.”

You pout. “Right,” you say unbelievingly. You turn your head back so you’re facing the ceiling. “Tease,” you mutter under your breath - knowing full well he can hear you.

“Pot, meet kettle,” he scoffs.

You roll your eyes and let your head fall to the side to look at him again.

“You need sleep,” he says softly, leaning in close to you again. You reach to touch his face, his cheeks stubbly.

“Would you get the light?” you ask in the same tone.

Bucky leans in and places a chaste kiss on your lips. He hums quietly, licking his lips as he pulls away and sits up. “I’m gonna be kissing you all the time now, you know that, right?”

You breathe a laugh, smiling softly as you watch him get up and go turn off the lights.

You pull the comforter up and over yourself, keeping one foot out so as not to overheat too quickly.

Bucky shuts off the lights and gets back into the bed, sliding in next to you under the covers.

He gets comfortable in his spot and after a few seconds, you slowly inch closer to him. Your hand touches his as you both lay on your backs. You get closer until you finally decide to turn toward him. Sleeping on your side will be a lot more comfortable, and -

Bucky cuts off your train of thought as he suddenly, but gently, pulls you into him, allowing your head to rest on his chest as he keeps a protective arm around you.

“We both know we’re gonna wake up like this anyway,” he says, finishing your thought without knowing it.

You fight your smile as you curl into him, finding the most comfortable spot for both of you. The skin to skin contact is intimate and so natural, you don’t even give it a second thought as you start to drift off into sleep. You feel Bucky press a tender kiss on your forehead and the warmth that flows through you is undeniable.

Just like you two.

You’ve both known it for some time, you just never wanted to make the wrong move. But this is it, here and now.

Undeniable.

God, you’re getting too hot already. If this had been any other night from your past “sleepovers” you’d probably just try and deal. But tonight, and every night from now on if you’re lucky, is different. You move just a bit and Bucky doesn’t object. Slowly, you start shimmying down your sweats until you’re able to just kick them off under the covers. You were planning on losing them earlier anyway, why should you be self conscious now.

Plus, Bucky did accuse you of being a tease not fifteen minutes ago. If he thought anything you ever did before could come close to his touches tonight, he had no idea.

And Bucky’s right, you’ll be waking up like this come the morning no matter how you go to bed. You in his arms, in nothing but a pair of cute underwear, would certainly be a good morning. And then you’ll see how he really feels about waiting another day or two to finally be with each other the way you’ve been wanting for so long.

Now you know better than to underestimate Bucky’s patience, but telling from the bulge growing in his sweats as his hand wanders over your hip and squeezes your bottom while your fingers dance along his midsection, ghosting lower and lower as you feel his muscles tense…you think you might just get it sooner rather than later.

But either way, you smile softly, cuddling into Bucky as he pulls your body closer, you know you’ll both get what you want.

#lilcrowrants #lilcrow’s library #I’m going to cry tho

[waywardcrow]

Tony Stark is a wonderful subversion of toxic masculinity in the superhero genre.

[waywardcrow]

Bucky : We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you?

Y/N: …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out on bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

[waywardcrow]

I just went through all stages of grief reading this, I don’t know what to say but at the same time I have a lot of things to say.

I knew this bastard had something very awful planned but still I had hope all of them could escape, even when they were captured, I hoped Sam and Violet would help them, OMG, you absolute genius!!!!! It was so good!

I don’t want to believe Lilac is not here anymore, I love her so much! She’s so strong and brave and I know Steve will never be the same after this and hurting his friend, I also hope Bucky is fine, his real personality being there with Lavender made me think they could be fine, also it’s heartbreaking to know they will suffer forever, I want Alexander gone 😩.

Sorry haha I had a lot to say but it was fucking amazing! I hope you can write more about this but if you don’t I understand and I love it because it’s so well written!

Thanks for coming back to this story 🩵.

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞 (𝐢𝐢𝐢𝐢)

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐖𝐒!𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 '𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞' 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫?

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖𝟓𝟑𝟒

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐑𝐚𝐩𝐞/𝐍𝐨𝐧-𝐂𝐨𝐧/𝐃𝐮𝐛-𝐂𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡. 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞… 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 :) 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔!

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 🫢 𝐖𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 @navybrat817 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬! 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤!

𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 @suzs-fic-library 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 @flordeamatista 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐢𝐟!

You’re blindfolded for the final part of the trip, which leaves your sense of smell too much time to focus on the scents that linger on the dress you’d been put into. You can smell Alexander all over you, a sickly sweet smell that makes your stomach roll. You’re not sure how much time passes but your tears have dried on your face by the time the car slows and you’re asked to get out.

The blindfold is pulled off and you get a bare glance of your surroundings - you think that you might be back in Manhattan - but you’re led swiftly through the back entrance of what seems to be a very large building and into a service elevator. Heavy silence reigns as the numbers on the floor tick over, with not a word spoken to you, or an eye glanced at you. You don’t mind. They’d seen you raped in front of them by your new ‘husband’ and done nothing, you don’t really want a conversation with them.

The elevator slows and then stops at the 100th floor, and then you’re led out of that into a room that must be for cleaners and maintenance staff as it is filled with cleaning supplies and tools. You frown at that briefly, but then they take you out into an opulent hallway, the wallpaper shimmers slightly and you wonder if it is silk. The carpet is soft and plush beneath the heels of your shoes, and the air smells of pine. One more elevator ride later - this one decked out in glass and gold - and you find yourself on the 110th floor and in what you assume is the penthouse that Alexander lived in. Your new home.

You stumble out of the elevator, the view from the floor to ceiling windows in front of you hypnotises you. All of Central Park spread out like something in a dream. Manhattan and the Hudson River in front of you, with West New York beyond that. You hadn’t seen home in so long, everything that you had seen had been marked with destruction by Hydra, you’d assumed that the rest of the world would look the same. You were wrong. Manhattan was thriving from what you could see, maybe there were less people and cars, but all the tiny ant-like people far below you were moving about freely, the cars coming and going.

This was the home of Hydra, and you were stuck there, a prisoner in your opulent cage.

The guards leave after a few minutes of watching you, you don’t even realise until you hear the elevator leave, and you rush to the doors, trying to find a way to bring the car back, to let you go, but there is only a keypad for a code you don’t know, and a small black square next to it which you can only assume is for a thumb or finger print belonging to Alexander. You swipe away at a tear you hadn’t realised you’d shed, and turn back to the window where you can see the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon. Abruptly you realise that you’re alone, Alexander isn’t here yet, and you can move about freely without his eyes on you. You hadn’t been alone in so long, not really. Even when Bucky and Sam and Steve were away, Lilac and Violet weren’t ever that far away, even if you weren’t encouraged to talk, and Hydra’s guards prowled the hallways outside your cells constantly, nevermind that camera’s that you suspected were installed within every wall and surface.

With that thought in mind, you don’t rush any further. You desperately want to charge into every room looking for a weapon, an exit, something or anything to turn the tables on Alexander and to get away, but you can’t know for sure that he doesn’t have cameras on you right now, that this isn’t some sort of test that will leave you even more broken and bloodied than usual should you fail.

Your heart sinks, and you turn from the window. There was no escape for you. No way to fight whatever Alexander had planned for you next, he’d proved that over and over again. You walk past rooms with closed doors, past a kitchen that looks like no one has ever cooked in it, and find what you assume is Alexander’s bedroom - presumably the one you will share with him, if only because you get the impression he wouldn’t allow you a single moment of space if he can help it. The air smells like the cologne he wore when he married you, when he took you-

You bolt forwards into the space, pulling open a door on the far side and hoping against hope it’s the bathroom, and fall to your knees and throw up when the amenities reveal themselves. The bathroom is beautiful, and surprisingly warm toned for the man who used it, a lot of dark green and copper coloured metals… 

You throw up until you feel like your ribs will crack, and then fall back against the cabinets, breathing heavily with tears rolling down your face. Your shame and horror almost overwhelms you, almost to the point of wanting to find a razor to take your wrists-

Abruptly Bucky’s face fills your mind, the bright blue eyes that can be soft and sensual or hard and cruel, you never knew what you would find with him. The hard body with the soft skin, his lush mouth that made you see stars or could make you weep from the horrid words he would spit in a temper… his arms as he held you before, during, and after a round of brutal fucking that you had come to crave…

Alexander had threatened to hurt Bucky if you didn’t comply. You hated that this mattered to you, when you clearly didn’t matter to the winter soldier, even as you knew it was unfair to feel like that. Bucky’s humanity had been burned from him long ago, he couldn’t help what had happened to him, any more than you could help your situation now. You stand on shaky legs on that depressing thought, and that’s when you see the large and inviting bath by yet more large windows that overlook the city. It’s the work of a moment to check if hot water will come out - it did - and soon you’re scouring that bathroom for bubble bath and shampoo and conditioner and soap. It’s all there, and all in the strong scent that had been put on you before your ‘wedding’, but you stock up and fill the tub almost to the brim with water just on the right side of scalding.

If you had to do this with the man who created a monster, you would do it feeling clean on the outside, even if you think you’ll never feel clean again on the inside.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been soaking in the very large tub, but the water eventually starts to feel too cold to stay in anymore so you heave yourself out reluctantly. You’re not sure exactly when Alexander will appear, and you didn’t want to be naked and vulnerable in a large body of water when he did, so you dry yourself off quickly, and grab a fluffy robe that’s hanging on the back of the door. It’s still silent in the apartment when you enter the bedroom, silent enough that unease runs through you and makes you tread quietly across the floor to the walk-in wardrobes that flank the large bed.

You don’t look at the bed. You can’t face that reality just yet. 

You expect one of the wardrobes to have something for you to wear, even if it’s just more of the beige jumpsuits, but there’s nothing, not even underwear in the drawers for you. Your hands start to shake at the implications of that, but a streak of fury sets your mouth in a thin line, and steadies your hands right back up. You stalk into the wardrobe that holds Alexander's suits, expensive and beautiful creations that were no doubt made specifically for his body, no way the first son of Hydra would wear something off the rack. You look around in wonder at the innate wealth and privilege this one corner of his home represents, and abruptly feel more anger than you’ve ever felt in your godforsaken life.

Ten minutes later and everything is on the floor, and you’ve pulled on what you can of his clothes, tearing and tying and wrapping where needed to make it fit your body type. You don’t recognise the angry and breathless woman in the mirror in her makeshift outfit, it makes it easier, like you’re becoming someone else, someone stronger, who can better face what is going to happen next. Because what happens next will hurt, you know that. You have just destroyed The Leaders wardrobe in a fit of anger on your wedding day, and there was no such thing as redeemable villains, Alexander was not going to come in and tell you he was sorry for putting you through this, he wasn’t going to let you go, he was going to punish you, bend you until you broke and make you bleed and cry and-

“I was due for a new wardrobe, anyway. New season and all that.”

You spin on your heel, bravado gone, your heart pounding in true terror. Alexander was home.

There’s a small smile on his lips as he looks you up and down, “Inventive. I would of course prefer a skirt or dress, but still. Those tatters become you.” It's an insult wrapped in a compliment. Your mind reels, and you inch away from him as he enters the bedroom further. “I was planning on taking you shopping tomorrow, now I suppose we can make a couples’ day of it, yes? Consider it a wedding present.”

“I thought I wasn’t your wife?”

“I thought that didn’t matter to you?” Alexander stares at you, his brown eyes roving idly over your body, and you realise you’ve moved far enough away from him that your back is almost to the door. You chance one look behind you, Alexander takes a step towards you, and you bolt, running through the hallway until you find a room that isn’t locked and throw yourself inside it, locking the door immediately and running to the furthest corner and sinking down to the floor. Your knees go to your chest, and you hide your face, closing your eyes as you hear Alexander’s steps get ever closer to you. The gentle tap against the wood makes you jump, but he doesn’t force his way in as you half expect him to.

“Take your time in there, Y/N, I’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready. I will have some food delivered, you must be starving.”

The footsteps head away after another second, but you keep your head down, your eyes closed. You’re not safe, and you never will be again.

You must’ve fallen asleep, because you start awake violently enough that the back of your head smacks against the wall behind you and you hiss at the blast of pain. You rub the back of your head as you stare into the pitch black of the room, wondering how much time has passed since Alexander inexplicably left you alone, it had to have been at least an hour judging by how dark it was. Slowly you stand up, wincing at the aches and pains that flare up in your body, especially between your legs and your bottom. The bath had helped relax you, but you’d been put through psychological and physical torture before Alexander had forced you into marrying him, and then violently attacking you to ‘consummate’ the marriage in front of his men.

One bath was not enough to heal your body, and more torment would come now you were in the monster's lair.

You stare at the door handle when you reach it, your hand just hovering over the dark metal. Would the door be locked? It seemed like the sort of thing Alexander would do to punish you. Would the door open easily? That also seemed likely. Alexander was a manipulative monster after all, and lulling you into a false sense of security would suit him. Eventually you flex your fingers, take a deep breath, and pull open the door.

Not locked then. 

You hear sounds further into the apartment, and slowly make your way towards them, not interested in delaying the inevitable anymore. Alexander would have you one way or another, and if you fought, he would hurt Bucky. It annoyed you that you cared, but you couldn’t change how you felt, so you marched towards what felt like your doom. The tattered and ripped clothing had come loose as you slept, so you tied it back together before coming out into the same large living room you had been in before. The lights over the city were duller than you remember through the windows, but then, there were less people now then there were before.

“You must be hungry.”

Again your heart pounds at just Alexander’s voice, and you turn to face him. He’s standing in a large open plan kitchen in front of a stove, and the smell coming from the pan makes your mouth water immediately. You curl your fingers into fists, forcing yourself to stand still instead of running over to the cooked food and eating it out of the pan,

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“No need to lie to me, Y/N. You haven’t eaten in over twelve hours at least, you need food if you’re going to be useful to me.” Your lips twist in anger at the casual way he remarks on your deal, that you would carry the heirs that he needed. Alexander sees the face you pull and laughs to himself as he seasons what smells like a steak, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so cavalier about what’s going to happen. Please, join me?” 

Unfortunately, you are starving, and you will need all your strength to get through whatever comes next, so you slowly walk forward, taking the seat that Alexander pulls out for you. His fingers brush a patch of skin on your shoulder that’s exposed, and you flinch away, but you push a question out before he can say anything about your reaction,

“I thought you were getting food delivered?”

“I did. I can cook, you know.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d need to. Don’t you have maids or… servants for that?” 

Alexander shrugs, serving up the plate of food, “Yes, but I obviously don’t want them here tonight, and they’ll probably not be around so much now you’re here.” Alexander chooses the seat next to you, scooting close enough that you could feel his body heat seeping into you, it’s enough that your gag reflex starts up but you force yourself to breathe through it. You need the food. You need to show him that you’re strong, that you’re not afraid of him. You slowly look up to meet his brown eyes, feeling a sudden shock when you see he’s almost… kindly looking.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N,” Alexander starts cutting up the steak, and you swallow desperately when you see it’s cooked perfectly, swimming in garlic butter, perfectly glazed greens and crispy looking fries accompanying it…

“You already hurt me.” The words come out before you can stop them, but Alexander doesn’t get angry, instead he just shrugs,

“I was playing my part, much like I know you are doing now, open wide,” he holds the small square of meat up to you, and then smiles again at your hesitation, “smart girl,” he turns the fork towards him, and takes the bite of food instead, chewing slowly and very deliberately swallowing. After a drink from the glass of water he had poured, he starts cutting up the meat and holds another bite to you, “Nothing is poisoned or drugged, Y/N, you can eat, I promise.”

You hesitate once more, but there’s no other cutlery for you to use, Alexander’s gaze follows yours, his smile becomes relaxed, and he gently shakes his head.

You wouldn’t have anything you could use as a weapon against him. 

“You’ll eat from my hand for now, wife. Good behaviour and trust will earn you the right to feed yourself.”

Your stomach growls, and you give in. You hold Alexander’s gaze as you lean forwards slightly, and press your lips over the tines of the fork, pulling the steak off and chewing. You bite back a moan at how good it tastes - you hadn’t eaten anything so well made in years, the food even before your incarceration had been basic and bland at best, all the best ingredients were clearly hoarded by Hydra, and not meant for the peasants on the streets.

You eat everything you’re given, your stomach hurts by the time that you’re done, and Alexander licks his own lips after you lick yours in satisfaction. The deep brown of his irises have been swallowed up, and he’s looking you over like he’s hungry, but not for more food. Your heart starts to pound, and you break the gaze, dropping your eyes to your lap, forcing out words you don’t want to speak but what you’re hoping will soften your husband towards you so you don’t get hurt. Again.

“Thank you for the food… sir.”

“You’re welcome, wife.” Alexander brushes his hand over the back of your head… and pulls away, leaning back in his seat and giving you a modicum of space, “I suppose now we should go over what’s next, yes?” You frown at the question, and lift your eyes to meet his,

“I thought-”

“Yes, my aim is to get you pregnant with my heirs as soon as possible, and I know I said that I would explore your body as soon as we were alone-” Alexander looks over the skin that’s exposed by your poor attempt at covering up, and he smirks “- but I’m not such a monster that I can’t allow you a night to rest. I want you to trust me.”

“I’ll never trust you.” You blurt it out before you can stop yourself, “You’re the leader of Hydra. You tortured me, you tortured my friends, you tortured and broke Sam and Steve and Bucky-”

“Shall we watch a movie together?”

“W-what?”

Alexander stands and holds out his hand to you, and you take it without thought, thrown off by the bizarre subject change. He’s gentle as he leads you out of the living area and through the hall until you reach one of the locked doors. His thumb print is used to open it and he takes you through to what appears to be a private theatre,

“This is one of my favourite movies, wife. I wanted to wait a little longer to share it with you, but there’s no better time than now to make you realise that I’m not the monster here.” A large leather seat is pointed at and you sit in it, Alexander takes the seat next to you, presses on a controller a few times, and the screen flares to life, “I think it’s time to take your rose tinted glasses off about your idealised saviours, Y/N.”

Dread pools in your gut as CCTV footage starts to play. The date in the corner of the screen is from over a year before. The room looks very similar to the cells you were kept in and your skin crawls at the realisation that everything you did with Bucky and the others was likely recorded at all times. But this recording isn’t of you, or Lilac or Violet. You don’t recognise the woman on the screen.

“Rose also believed that James would be her saviour if she did everything that he wanted, if she was nice to him. You’ve heard about Rose, haven’t you? The way you’ve stopped breathing certainly makes me think you have.” Alexander murmurs that last part with a smirk on his face, but he’s not wrong. You do know about Rose, and seeing the face of the woman who was forced into sharing Buckys bed before you…

“Wait… please-”

“Shhhh, you’ll love this.” Alexander wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close as Bucky appears in the cell. Your heart pounds as you take him in on screen, even in 2D he’s as intimidating and overwhelming as you remember, tall and dark in leather, his deep brown hair - shorter than you remember it being - swinging into his eyes as he stalks towards Rose who positively beams at him,

“Bucky! I missed you!”

“I need you, now, Rose, get on the bed.”

“Okay, but can I talk to you afterwards?”

“Sure, fine. Actually, get on your knees first.”

You watch in blank horror as Bucky forces Rose to take all of his considerable length down her throat until she gags. By the time he’s done fucking her throat, the woman has thrown up on the floor, but it doesn’t deter Bucky who simply picks her up and throws her onto the cot, pulls off what they’re both wearing, and begins to pound into her from behind. Alexander tilts his head towards yours, his voice an exaggerated whisper against your ear,

“Was he that selfish a lover with you, Lavender? I could bring up your tapes with him to compare if you like?” The shock of the name that Bucky gave you being used again made you jump a little, but Alexander just pulled you closer, “I’m just teasing, wife. I’d sooner bathe you in bleach than remind you of what James did to you. Oh wait, here’s the best part.”

Rose is lying spent on Bucky's chest, her chest heaving against his larger one. The dead stare in his face was something you recognised well, but there was something in the look on Rose’s face that made goosebumps rise on your arms.

“Bucky?”

“Yes, Rose.”

“I really like you.”

“I like you too.” Bucky lifts his right arm over his head to lean on, his bicep bulging and closes his eyes, “Go to sleep, Rose.”

“B-but…”

You watch, heart hammering, praying for a different ending than the one you know is coming, as Rose suddenly sits up and straddles Bucky. You can’t see her face anymore, but her voice belies the desperation she’s clearly feeling.

You’ve heard it in your own voice too often.

“Bucky, we can escape, I know a guard who-!”

It’s too late. You close your eyes as you hear Bucky's growl of fury, but Alexander shakes you to open them.

“A guard?! You fucked someone else, Rose?!”

“Nnnn-” 

Rose is clawing at her neck but it’s pointless as Bucky has enclosed it with his metal left hand. You knew from personal experience how hard he could choke with that thing. How much he had to actually be in control to not snap your neck. You don’t realise you’re shaking as Bucky throws Rose to the floor, as he screams and yells that she doesn’t care about him, that he will never leave Hydra, how she was ungrateful and didn’t know fear like he did…

You run out of the theatre and back to the bathroom when the cell on screen is coated with shiny red blood, and you throw up the steak that Alexander had cooked for you.

“James was a monster long before I was born, Y/N,” Alexander follows you in after you’ve stopped actively throwing up, when you’re just left with the tears and dry heaving, he hands you a glass of water which you snatch from him without looking at him. It doesn’t deter him, obviously. “I wasn’t the one to create him, but I certainly won’t stop using him.”

“You put Rose in there with him, you put Lilac and Violet and-”

“I took you away. I knew he would turn on you too, and you’re too important to waste on an unstable soldier like him, and he is too important for someone like you to ruin.”

“Ruin?!” You shake your head, brushing away the tears that coated your face furiously, “I wasn't an idiot like Rose, I knew he would never leave Hydra or help me, I knew-”

“But he killed Rumlow for you, didn’t he?” Alexander squatted down next to you, cupping your face with his palm, “He’d never done anything like that before. James is special, he has been since Steven met him in DC all those years ago. James knew what he was and he chose Hydra because he knew he couldn’t be anything else. Until you.”

“I didn't ask for any of this.” Your voice cracks, another tear falls which Alexander gently rubs away, “I didn't ask him to do that for me. I didn’t ask you to-”

“You didn’t have to, wife. You just have to remember that I saved you. Not James.”

Your lower lip trembles, then the tears come in earnest, you’re sobbing hard enough that your throat hurts and you know that your eyes are going to be swollen and red when you’re through. You let Alexander pull you to your feet, and don’t put up any fight when he leads you to the bedroom and to the en-suite shower. Your tatters don’t last against Alexander’s fingers, and he’s gentle as he leads you into it, as naked as you are. He lets you cry under the warm water, and you let him touch you as you do.

You let him wash you.

You let him kiss your tears away.

You let him put himself inside you.

You let him come inside you.

Later, you let him take you to bed and let him do whatever he wants. You let yourself enjoy it.

The next month as Alexander’s “wife” borders on idyllic, and it quietly horrifies you, even as you secretly enjoy it. Every morning you wake to his arms around you, and his kiss at your neck or your lips… lower. Alexander makes love to you, unlike your first time, he is gentle and generous and sweet. The first time he made you laugh during sex you couldn’t speak for the rest of the day, but he didn’t get angry, he didn’t blame you, he just cooked breakfast for you and went out for the day to leave you with your thoughts.

He came back with flowers, and a kiss to your forehead and you thanked him.

The rules in his home were simple, and you didn’t mind listening and obeying them so far. He’d had several simple dresses delivered for you, but no underwear. Oddly this helped you to remind you that you weren’t a real pampered wife, you were there to get pregnant for him, Alexander just liked making you comfortable, which you couldn’t help but appreciate.

You weren’t allowed out, and only had access to a few rooms, including the living area, bedroom and bathroom, kitchen, and a gym. Every other room and the elevator to the ground was blocked by a thumb print or keypad which you were told in no uncertain terms you would not be allowed to have. Alexander said it was for your safety, you knew it was because you were still a prisoner, you had just started to care less.

Alexander wanted sex at least three times a day, and oral sex at least once when he was home, but he was generous with his attention, and would make sure you came with him. Right now, he seemed to just enjoy you as a new body, but soon he would expect you to test positive for a baby, and you were dreading it. You knew what to expect if you weren’t pregnant quickly.

To be thrown to the barracks again and used until you died.

It was safe to say that after a month you had fallen into a routine that felt… safe. You were never going to completely let your guard down, but you no longer jumped when Alexander entered a room and snuck up on you. Like he did now as you were making a sandwich - everything was prepared so you didn’t have to use knives as you still weren’t allowed them. Alexander appeared at your back, his left arm snuck around your waist and pulled you to him, and his right went under the skirt of your dress and between your legs, his index finger finding it’s favourite place on your clit and circling softly,

“Did you know it was our one month anniversary, Y/N?” Alexander doesn’t wait for an answer as your head falls back onto his shoulder, “I think I want to take you out for a treat- no don’t answer, just open your legs and let me touch you, that’s it, you’re so soft here, such a perfect fit every time… oh two fingers, wife? You’re greedy today…”

You let him do as he wants until you come, and then fall to your knees and return the favour, at least until he pulls you back up, pushes you against the counter, lifts one leg to hook around his waist, and pushes into you. It’s quick and you think your back is bruised from the angle of his thrusts pushing you against the marble, but you call his name as you finish and return the kiss he gives you.

At least until what he said actually filters through your brain.

“You want to take me out?”

“Yes. I want to buy you something nice for our anniversary. We are on Fifth Avenue after all.” Alexander looks down at you, biting his lower lip, before taking your chin between his fingers, “I don’t even want you to clean up, I want everyone to see me running down your legs.”

He turns away from you then, which is probably a good thing as you’ve frozen up, memories of your “wedding day” playing through your mind on repeat. He calls your name and you jerk away from the counter and go to him on shaky legs, forcing a smile on your face,

“I ummm…”

“No underwear, just don’t bend over in front of anyone.” 

The changing room is cool, which you’re grateful for as you’ve never felt so hot in your life. Alexander clearly only had one gift in mind, and it was lingerie. He had given your measurements to the sales people already, and a selection had been laid out for you to try on for him in a private room. All in black and red, of course. You hated the colour scheme, but you couldn’t deny how you felt each time you walked out and saw the bulge growing in the front of Alexander’s trousers.

It was a kind of torture that you could find yourself enjoying, the way that he refused to touch you, and yet told you in great detail everything that he was going to do to you later on when he got you back into his home, even his dark promise he made as you changed back into your dress didn’t ruin the sensual mood he had put you in,

“I’ll make sure I put that baby in your belly tonight.”

Alexander murmurs something to the salesman that entered as you’re changing, and you wait dutifully as he tells you he is going to get everything you tried on packed up and ready to go. You hear the door to the changing room click shut, and you turn to look in the mirror, your fingers reach out to the reflection there… 

The sound of the door opening again brings you out of the room, expecting to find Alexander, but it’s not your husband.

It’s Lilac.

The older woman runs to you, pressing her hand over your mouth before you can say anything, but making a sound is the last thing on your mind. You’d been told that Lilac and Violet had chosen themselves over helping you, but here she was, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and murmuring that she thought you were dead. You held your fellow captive, your ex lover, your friend, until suddenly your heart started to pound in terror,

“Lilac, what are you- you have to go, you can’t stay-”

“I know, I wasn’t supposed to- but they put me here, I don’t think they knew you would be here-”

“Alexander will come back soon, please-”

“We only just found out you were alive, Lavender, we didn’t know, I’m sorry-”

You pull her away and shake her, “You have to go! Forget you saw me and stay safe!” You look over to the door, “Please, I don’t want you hurt because of me! I don’t care that he lied, I just don’t want you hurt! I don’t want anyone hurt!”

“Bucky was tortured because we found out you were alive!” Now it’s Lilac’s turn to shake you, her eyes hard, “He attacked The Leader, did you know? The bastard threatened to hurt you if Bucky ever came at him again, did you know?”

“W-what?” You take a step back, “N-no, B-bucky wouldn’t do that. He’s theirs, he’s Hydras, he’s-”

“He’s waking up. They all are. And they want to save us.” Lilac looked over her shoulder, and then pressed a kiss to your forehead, “We’ll get you out, Lavender, okay? Stay strong.”

With that, she ran out of the door, leaving you to stare after her in shock for one long second, before you frantically pulled yourself together when Alexander came back. You put on the best show yet for your captor. By the time you were back enclosed in your gilded cage with him, and long after the sun had set and he was spent in bed next to you, you had convinced yourself that this life was something Alexander believed you wanted. 

The beginning of the end happened a week later, you just didn’t know it then.

Alexander had woken up to a message on his phone, and for the first time since you had ‘married’ him, he scared you. Something had clearly happened, something that made him furious, he threw you onto the bed and yelled at you to stay there, and then promptly locked you inside. You could hear him roaring on his phone, but you couldn’t quite make out everything that he said, just snippets;

“- missing?!”

“- lock down the-!”

“-construction site… Times Square… peanut gallery…”

“FIND THEM!”

The last was bellowed so loudly that you shrink away from the bedroom door you’d been trying to open, and you run into the bathroom and locked the door, your heart pounding in fear. You didn’t have a clue what was going on, but this was a side to your captor you hadn’t seen. You knew what control meant to him, so whatever had happened had clearly screwed with his capacity for order, that would only bounce back on you, and not in a way you wanted. You listen to Alexander rant for a few more minutes, and then your breathing stops all together when he goes silent. It’s like the moments in the horror films you vaguely remember watching before Hydra destroyed everything and banned all entertainment. This was the moment when the monster sneaks up on the victim, and the music would go low, right before the jump scare-

“Y/N, open this door!”

You jump, backing away to the other side of the bathroom as Alexander pounds on the door, “Go away! You’re frightening me!”

“I’ll do worse if you don’t open up!”

You believe him, but you can’t quite get your feet to move forwards, “P-please, w-wait-” the words stammer in your throat as you inch forward to the door, you can see his shadow moving underneath, “i-i’ll open it, p-please…” You plead quietly as you move forward, your fingers shake desperately as you get to the handle, but he doesn’t yell anymore. You think that maybe Alexander has calmed down enough that he will be gentle as you pull the door open to him.

You’re wrong.

He doesn’t say a word to you as he grabs you by the neck and pins you to the wall, kissing you harshly enough that you taste blood. You’re spun around to face the wall, your legs are spread…

You can’t even cry any more as you’re moved back to the bed when Alexander is done, you can’t even flinch when you feel him push his spend back inside you with his fingers, and you certainly can’t look at him when he buttons up his jacket as he leaves, his brown eyes still furious as he glares down at you, 

“I have to leave for a few days. I would rather take you with me but it’s safer that you stay here. Stick to the meal plan and there will be enough food for you.”

You lie there for a long time, after a while you pull the covers over you as it’s so cold. You think maybe you dream, because the sound of the door opening again doesn’t frighten you. It must be a dream because it’s not Alexander coming back to hurt you some more that walks into your bedroom.

It’s Bucky.

“Lavender?”

It’s a dream, so you smile at him, he always liked when you smile, “Hi, Bucky.”

The dream Bucky looks horrified as he stalks over to you. It’s almost enough to pull you out of the dream. He never used to look horrified at the result of violence.

“What happened, doll? Can you tell me what he did to you? Can you walk out of here?”

You frown. The dreams of Bucky never usually start with him being nice to you.

“What do you mean, Bucky? I can’t go anywhere. He’ll kill you if I do.”

“The L-Leader won’t… he’ll n-never…”

Your dream Bucky is being so weird, he almost sounds scared, but he’s the boogeyman, not Alexander. He also looks different, though you can’t quite figure out why, but abruptly, you don’t care anymore. This is your dream, and you can do what the fuck you like in a dream. You sit up, letting the sheets pool at your waist, and hold your hand out to him. Again, this stupid dream version doesn’t do what you expect, he looks shocked, even as his eyes drop to your breasts, your stomach…

“Doll-”

“Why the fuck are you calling me that, Bucky? I’m Lavender, remember? You gave me that name after all.”

“That was before-”

“No, shut up, this is a stupid dream, I’m going to wake up now, and fuck do I wish I wouldn’t. I want to stay asleep, do you understand, you cunt? I never want to wake up and face that fucking man again, I don’t even want to face you, you’re a monster, and a killer, and a fucking rapist, just like him, so if you’re not going to let me choose to fuck you one last time in a dream, then I don’t know why you’re here.” 

You can feel yourself shaking. In fact you can feel the sheets around you, the cold air against your skin, the aches and pains and bruises all over your body, but especially between your legs-

“This isn’t a dream, Y/N… doll, I’m really here. I want to save you. I’m not going to hurt you, ever again, and I’ll kill him before I let him do that to you or anyone else again, okay?”

That’s when you realise that Bucky looks different because he’s not in Hydra leathers anymore, he’s in plain clothes, jeans and a red top and a tattered looking jacket, a black baseball cap pulled low over his head. It’s not clothing you’ve ever seen on him before. Bucky’s hair looks washed, and his eyes… they see you…

Your hand raises, the stubble on his cheek rasps against the pads of your fingers, the skin you touch is warm-

“Bucky?”

“I’m so sorry for everything I put you through, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, but I’m me now, okay? And I can save you, come with me?”

His left hand - encased in a black leather glove - is extended to you…

And you take it. God help you, but you trust him.

You get dressed, and you follow him out of the door, not asking him how he got in, or what happened with Alexander, you just go.

Adrenaline galvanises you, you rush faster than you should be able to considering what had just happened to you to throw one of your pointless dresses over your nakedness and shove your feet into shoes. You wish silently that you had time for a shower to clean the smell of Alexander off of you but one look at Bucky and you know that you don’t have that luxury right now. It’s time to leave, or you’ll never get the chance again.

Bucky removes his glove, and his left hand makes a whirring noise before he presses it to the thumb pad and the private elevator opens. Bucky mutters things to you as he rushes you into the space and the doors close,

“I thought you had died. Violet realised that Alexander lied to us all. I attacked him one day, and-”

“Wait, what? You did what?” You blink at Bucky, “What do you mean you attacked him?” You remember one particular evening Alexander had come home with a particularly raspy voice, he’d been especially rough that night but you hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. Bucky stares at the floor numbers in silence for a moment before clearing his throat, his blue eyes casting over you with a yearning that made your throat close up,

“I was so angry when I heard he’d taken you from me. I was… wrong. So wrong, for so long, Lavender. I didn’t even want to be a better person, I was too scared and screwed up to try… and then you-”

“Don’t, Bucky,” you put your hand on his shoulder, gripping for a long second before taking your hand away, “Alexander showed me what you did to Rose. I know what you did to me, to Lilac and Violet, to Sam and Steve-”

“Sam and Violet have escaped.” Bucky interrupts you, his eyes on the floor, “I don't think she wanted to go without you and Lilac, but it was the only way. I set a distraction, Sam and Violet go one way, Steve and Lilac another, and I would go and get you.” Bucky turns to look at you directly, “I just want to help you, I promise. I know what I did and that I can’t make it better, but I want to try. I can’t do that if you’re dead.”

It’s hard to argue with that, so you just nod once, and follow him out when the elevator reaches the ground level. The building seems to be deserted, but there’s a tension in the air that makes the hairs on your arms stand up, a buzzing all around you, and you take Bucky’s hand blindly when he offers it. It’s another few minutes before he gets you to a car and you’re buckled into it, and then one minute more before your saviour can hot wire it and begin to drive. The streets are bare, you hadn’t seen the bowels of Manhattan in so long…

“I still can’t believe how different this place looks in comparison to when… before I…”

You look over as Bucky goes pale at his memories, your hand reaches out to maybe offer some pointless comfort, but that’s when you notice his eyes don’t look at you. They’re fixed straight ahead, a darkness in them… 

“Lavender…”

You turn away from Bucky at the urgency in his voice to look down the road, and that’s when your stomach drops.

Alexander, and a squadron of Hydra soldiers wait for you. There’s an evil smile on his face as he holds some sort of device in one hand, and-

You don’t really hear the boom of the explosion, but you feel it as the car leaves the ground and crashes onto the side, Bucky in the drivers side against the asphalt, leaving you partially hanging in the seat, your ears ringing. You hear movement, sounds, yells, but it’s from a distance, like you’re underwater, far away…

The car is suddenly righted, and your head bangs against the passenger window enough that the grogginess disappears between one breath and the next. You just see Bucky throwing himself out of the car, hear the bullets bounce off his arm, and hear the yelling that The Leader didn’t want him dead yet, but you can’t yell out for Bucky.

Alexander pulls you from the car, a gun to your head, and drags you into another, backhanding you when you fight him,

“You didn’t think I didn’t know what you had planned, James, did you? You’re stupider than I ever gave you credit for, but thank god for that.” Tears stream down your face when you see Bucky bleeding from the head, he’s trying to get to you but it’s a losing battle. There’s a gun pressed to your neck, and the man you’re both terrified of standing between you holding the gun. Alexander stares down at you, his lip curled in disgust,

“Oh I’m not done yet, Lavender. Take them both to the square.”

The square was Times Square, and even though the drive was short, you spent the entire time terrified as Alexander held you captive against him. That fear only increased as the buzzing you had felt turned out to be an actual sound - Times Square was filled with people on all sides, stands with seating had been erected on all sides, and right in the middle were two cranes, and two people standing alone with yet more guns pointed at them. You wince when Alexander drags you from the car, and start to struggle when you see Lilac and Steve are the ones who have the guns pointed at them,

“Alexander, please-”

“That’s sir to you, you cheating whore-”

“I never-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Alexander spins you to face him, and presses a violent kiss to your mouth, before throwing you into a seat like a spectator, “this experiment with you is over, I’ll take you somewhere more secure soon. Until then…” Alexander spins to face the crowd, and you look over at Lilac and Steve, they’re facing each other, resignation on both their faces as they each stand in front of a crane… you look around in horror, trying to see Bucky, hoping against hope that you’re wrong about what you think will happen next.

You’re not though.

“Welcome!” Alexander booms into the microphone in front of him, waiting as the crowd's cheers die down, “Today we gather to witness the death of resistance and insurrection! Today we remind the masses that Hydra’s arms are long, we reach everywhere, there is nowhere to hide, no plans that we can’t uncover!” The crowds cheer again, and you now notice cameras focused on your friends… and that’s when you see Bucky, chained at the edge of the ‘stage’ like an animal, his lower jaw enclosed in something muzzle-like, his eyes anguished as he looked at Steve…

Alexander looked over his shoulder at you, and then towards Lilac and Steve, “I have given them opportunity to repent, to bow their heads and serve Hydra once more, but they refused. This is a message to all who would defy us…” Alexander takes another look at you, an evil smirk spreading across his face, “Don’t.”

A rush of activity happens then, your heart pounds in terror, but you can’t move, soldiers appear out of nowhere, two hold you down in the seat, another two grab at Bucky's hair to hold him down, and then more move towards Lilac and Steve. You scream your friends name as you see them wind wire rope around the necks of Lilac and Steve, and then attach it to the hooks on the cranes…

“No!” You struggle against the soldiers holding you down furiously, “Please, Alexander, don’t-” you cry out when he stalks over to you and grabs your throat again, making your head tilt back so you can watch as Lilac’s crane starts to lift her high into the air.

Steve is still on the ground, there’s a moment of pure silence as he waits for his own crane to take him up to hang as well, but it doesn’t move…

“I’d never make it that easy for them, Lavender. Steven is irreplaceable. You whores aren’t. It’s about time you remember that.”

The sound that emits from Steve as he sees the woman he loves die is something you’ll never be able to stop hearing in your head. He screams a name out so loudly you think that his voice box ruptures, blood appears at the edges of his mouth…

“Steven, it was James who betrayed you, who turned you into what you are now, who killed your Lilac… what are you going to do about it?”

Your bones sag in your body as Alexander says the one thing that would set Steve off - his rages had always been frightening, even when he hadn’t remembered what Lilac was to him. Now his love was gone, and the man responsible was right there. It didn’t matter that Hydra was the true head of the snake.

You scream over and over as Steve rushes to Bucky, tied and bound and unable to defend himself, as he raises his fists and hits Bucky until blood flies. You don’t see what happens next, that’s when Alexander drags you away. 

You’re thrown back in a cell, arms chained above you and a ring gag back in your mouth when The Leader next hovers over you,

“I know you didn’t want what just happened, that’s the only reason why I’m letting you live. I’ll be the only one to visit you, but I think it’s best that we don’t pretend that we’re married anymore, yes? I’ll make use of you, and if you get pregnant, I’ll take the baby to be cared for properly.”

You must’ve had something clear in your gaze because Alexander sighs, his index finger trailing down your face gently,

“I just wanted to see what would happen to a Winter Soldier if they fell in love. My father didn’t see the point, and he did need James to create the world we’re in now, but he did his part. I just wanted to see how far the conditioning would stretch… turns out it wasn’t far enough, he broke completely, Steven is no longer a scalpel, he’s just a blunt instrument, and Samuel… Well, we’ll find him and Violet eventually. You won’t leave again though. You’re mine.”

You’re screaming behind the gag when Alexander stands up and leaves, closing the door to the cell behind him, leaving you in complete darkness.

𝐒𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠? 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥! 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐬𝐭 𝐈 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 <𝟑

#I’m going to cry or scream but I’m fine #I could reread it tho #lilcrow’s library

[waywardcrow]

“Oh, God. I knew this would happen..”

[waywardcrow]

Sam Wilson & Bucky Barnes in Marvel Studios’ Assembled: The Making of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier (2021)

[waywardcrow]

Bucky looks Godly in a shirt as simple as a Henley

How is he real?!

[waywardcrow]

The veins. In the arms. And the hands. Those thick wrists ... 😵‍💫

Lord, I did not need a new kink today. alas I have gotten one anyway.

[waywardcrow]

Please don’t apologize because this was awesome! I loved every single thing about it 🤩. So sorry you had a headache tho.

Shapeshifting Bucky

Random thought from the depths of crackfic hell. But imagine an AU where Bucky's time with hydra also included the ability to shape shift on top of his super soldier serum. He can turn into whatever but he really only shifts into a wolf most of the time. Stealthy, huge, strong, agile and an absolute puppy. Werewolf Bucky is the scariest mf to exist. In his wolf form, his fur is nearly jet black, a stark contrast to his beautiful blue eyes. His teeth turn into sharp fangs and his claws could slash through just about anything.

However.

The large furry thing is nothing but a little puppy around you.

Human Bucky struggles to show his affection for you even though he loves you like crazy. He loves touching you but hesitates to do anything. Wolf Bucky has 0 issue hopping onto the sofa he doesn't fit on, attempting to curl up in your lap. He doesn't fit on your lap either and you end up drowning under a heavy mass of dark fur, the chuff he makes as you adjust himself is equivalent to his usual pouty face.

How dare you try and squirm away when he wants pets and cuddles.

And honestly, he's pretty irresistible. Even Tony's found himself petting the soft fur when he walks by, scrunching his face when he realizes who he's petting and cursing to himself immediately after. It's not just Tony either. Most of the Avengers catch themselves mid pet, occasionally shrugging and going back in while shaking their heads at themselves.

That isn't the only thing wolf Bucky enjoys.

“Bucky!” You stare at your boyfriend who was a human last time you left him, now in his wolf form sitting on top of your duffle bag you'd packed for an upcoming mission. There's no way for you to get to it, sitting as its hidden underneath him and it doesn't look like he has any plans on moving. He growls when you try and get closer, daring for you to try and leave when you just got back from a mission earlier in the week.

"Baby, I have to go, you gotta get off" You try to reason with him but he just stares at you with piercing blue eyes. By now you can read his body language and he's not hearing any of it.

Don't think so, stay with me

"C'mon, you know I'll be back soon" You gently scratch the top of his head and he nuzzles into your palm. He tiled his head to the side widening his gaze as best as he could and you couldn't help but giggle at how cute he looked, silently pleading with you.

"Aww, don't give me those puppy eyes Barnes, that's not fair" You coo while he lets out a whine, huffing and resting his head on his front large paws until his ears perk up with a bright idea.

"For fucks sake Bucky!" You laugh incredulously when he picks up the bag with his teeth, shaking the clothes out and burying himself under them, happy to be surrounded by your scent and finding another way to keep you there.

"What’s going on" Steve walked by the room, wondering why you hadn't come to the jet yet, eyes growing wide when he saw what his best friend was up to "What the hell"

"Oh my god" Sam looked over Steve's shoulder, snorting at the way Bucky was now half asleep while you were still in your tac suit but your bag now nearly torn to bits. You shrugged, deciding to give up, looking at the over grown puppy waiting for a belly rub, giving the two men an apologetic smile.

Bucky snuggled happily on top of your clothes, his nose nudging into your hoodie, before closing his eyes, ears twitching contently while your on the phone with Fury, coming up with a lame excuse as to why you couldn't join.

Some other things I imagine for wolf Bucky:

He's the cutest thing ever. Sam nicknamed him Sirius Black and he loves it.

Loves eating meat. Eats a lot in general.

Fiercely loyal

Likes to go on walks

I'm sorry for this, I have a headache, instead of taking an Advil and sleeping, I'm out here giving into my ridiculousness, I'll see myself out.

#lilcrow’s library

[waywardcrow]

This is fucking poetry and I’m not fine 🫠.

credit

Just a few thoughts I have about this man's hands.

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x Reader

A/N: Don't know where this came from. Don't judge me. It's was an urge I couldn't control.

Bucky Barnes's hands are lethal. Not because he can effortlessly crush a guy's skull or punch through a wall.

No his hands are lethal because of how delicately and gently they hold your face when he kisses you. Like he cherishes you. Doesn’t want to break you. Soft warm skin and cold metal cupping your jaw, thumbs pressing into your cheeks as his lips slot over yours. He kisses like he's fucks. Always starts off soft and slow and sweet until you're begging for more. Gets a little faster and deeper until he's controlling you, dominating you. Moving you where he wants you so he can take and take and take until you're gasping for air and willing to do anything he wants.

His hands are lethal. They're huge compared to yours. Everything about him is big. Thick. But what really makes you feel small, and delicate is when you're palm to palm with him, your fingertips don't come close to reaching his.

His hands are lethal and he can't keep them to himself. His fingers are always curved around your thigh, his thumb drawing circles on your soft flesh, chasing away the goosebumps his touch created. He can't go more than a few minutes without holding your hand, keeping yours tucked away in his so you can't get loose. Not that you want to. At night, when it's quiet, the world is nothing but a distant hum, just you and him sprawled across the sheets, you fall asleep to the sound of his voice and his fingers trailing up and down your back.

His hands are lethal. Especially when he's guiding your hips across his firm, warm body and dragging your pussy over him until you're sitting on his face or cock, grinding you down nice and slow until he can feel you pulsating and dripping on him.

As gently as he holds your face when he kisses you, his grip is bruising and firm when he fucks you. His hands folding your legs back so he can go as deep as he wants, relentlessly pounding you harder and harder, fucking you so good all you can do is take it.

His hands moving you to all fours so he can fuck you from the back, one hand putting yours on the headboard cause he knows you're going to need something to hold on to or you're collapse on the bed, the other hand, all metal, and firm, pushes your hip back so you can meet his thrusts, his cock moving in and out of you so fast, it feels like he's not even pulling out, only going deeper and deeper, hitting your spot so good and hard, tears spill down your face and you feel him making your belly bulge.

His hands are lethal when his warm, calloused fingers roll over your swollen, pulsing clit, metal fingers in your hair bringing your head back so his lips can graze the shell of your ear as he rasps out a soft, deep "cum for me gorgeous, cum all over my cock like a good fucking girl. There ya go, that's it, that's my girl. That's what I needed. Fuck–fuck you're so fucking good."

His hands are lethal when he has his metal fingers around your throat, leaving you lightheaded, teetering on the edge of euphoria with just enough air to moan his name as he bounces you on his cock, his large hand slapping your ass, demanding you ride him faster even as your thighs tremble around him and the room gets blurry. Show me how much you wanna cum, show me how bad you want this. Make a mess all over me.

His hands are lethal when he pushes his cum back inside your aching cunt, telling you he's going to make sure you keep every drop of him inside your pretty little pussy. That he's going to keep you full all the time, never let you feel empty again.

His hands are lethal because they provide the best aftercare. The dichotomy of warm and cold fingers on your back, massaging and kneading your sore muscles while he praises you for taking him so well, being so perfect for him, making him feel good, only stopping when you're relaxed and sleepy. Those hands pick you up like you're feather-light, placing you in a warm bath. Those hands feed you whatever you like, his touch lingering on your lips. Those hands carry you back to bed, placing you under fresh sheets.

His hands are lethal and only you know everything they're capable of.

Only you know how perfectly two of them fill your pussy, stretching you out just right so you're ready to take his cock.

Only you know how intoxicating it is to feel him grip you even tighter just before he comes apart, the way his right hand trembles slightly before pulling you closer.

Only you know how nice his hands feel around your waist when he's guiding you through a crowd of people, wordlessly letting you know you're safe with him.

Only you get to feel the full power of his touch, only you get to wear his marks like a badge of honor.

Bucky's hands are for you and only you. And that's the way he likes it.

And I—

#I want this Bucky pls #give me this Bucky pls #lilcrow’s library

[waywardcrow]

A sketch of Bucky.Why are you so sad?

[waywardcrow]

[waywardcrow]

I love tag games so here we go:

i'm over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts (i need them but i’m still super stubborn about it) / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo (soon I’ll have more) / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don't often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake (still is a mystery how i learned) / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i've never dated anyone / i have a best friend i've known for over five years / i am an only child / crazy cat lady

I don’t know who I can tag because I’m a shy mess but if you want to do it then you’ve been tagged 😎.

thank you for the tag @questionableratatouille00! there are so many ppl to tag but i’m feeling very lazy so i’ll go with the general open tags! if you see this, you’ve been tagged. i wanna see your answers!

i'm over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts (when driving) / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don't often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i've never dated anyone / i have a best friend i've known for over five years (my sisters 🥹) / i am an only child / crazy cat lady

open tags!! 🩵

[waywardcrow]

I loved it!!! It was just what I needed! Thank you for writing it! 🩵.

have i known you twenty seconds, or twenty years?

pairing: mickey henry x curvy!reader

warnings: smut. fluff. not edited. warnings not exhaustive in the slightest.

words: 3.3k

notes: hi. i watched Monday finally and fell in love. haven’t been writing much lately but this happened out of nowhere. hope you enjoy. thank you in advance for reading. 🫶🏻

You wake slowly with a grumble, a chill breeze flowing over you as goosebumps prick along your skin.

Your eyes squeeze tighter, not ready to open just yet, and you hug yourself closer - needing protection from the cool air.

As you start to move, stretching the sleep from your body, you register the weight of something draped over your waist. You open your eyes finally and all at once you register where you are, and the fact that you are not alone.

Mickey’s arm is heavy on you as he sleeps, pressed close behind you. His hand rests on your belly and as you look down yourself, you realize that you are completely naked.

“Oh my god,” you whisper groan to noone.

You touch him gently, careful not to disturb his sleep as you move his arm off of you.

Your attempt at not waking him is futile as he grumbles when you let his arm drop. It’s a deep noise, and you almost laugh at how annoyed he sounds before his hold is on you once again. you don’t even have the chance to get up before he’s urging you onto your back without a word, without so much as blinking open an eye.

You don’t fight it, and once you’re laying down, he rolls over - a little groggily moving to straddle you. He grunts as he holds himself over you and you do nothing but gaze up at him. The stubble that lines his jaw is darker now than it was last night, the lines by his eyes deeper as he squeezes his eyes shut tighter for a second before he finally blinks them open - ocean blues staring down at you as a soft smile takes its place on his lips.

“Hey,” he smiles, voice still lingering with sleep. His eyes squint just so as he stares down at you and the sun shines onto him.

He lifts a hand to shield his eyes, but he doesn’t move from over you.

“Hi,” you reply breathily, the sound of the tide coming in not far from where you lay almost drowning out your voice.

“Good morning,” he whispers as he lowers himself closer to you. You’re still as you watch him and you don’t move even as his lips brush yours.

It’s soft and almost too quick before he pulls away and pushes himself up. He’s straddling you, his large hands ghosting down your body before they settle on your hips.

“Morning…” you take a breath as your skin warms under his touch, under his stare. “We’re on the beach,” you say, earning a nod from him. “And we’re naked,” you point out.

“We are.”

“We shouldn’t be.”

“No?” he smirks.

“No.”

He nods and considers you for a second longer before he moves. He gets up off of you but you don’t move until he hands you your dress from last night. You offer a thank you as you shake the sand off of it - grateful for the blanket beneath you that’s at least kept you from being covered in sand yourself.

You pull the dress on, and slowly get to your knees. You watch as he pulls his own shirt on, buckling his belt after he adjusts his wrinkled pants.

He turns to you then, grabbing your hand as he helps you up. As soon as you’re on two feet, he pulls you against him, earning a gasp from you at the surprise. You look up at him, that same smile still playing on his pretty face as he looks at you.

“You’re not really leaving today, are you?”

“Mickey,” you look down, eyes glued to his chest. You’re worried if you look him in the eye again he’ll convince you to stay ‘just a little longer’.

Like he did last week.

And the week before…

“You don’t have to go, you know.”

“I do,” you argue, looking back up, “you know I do. I’m supposed to be out of my apartment by Sunday, and I already bought the ticket for tonight.”

“Get a refund,” he shrugs, holding you closer.

“Mickey,” you sigh, “There’s nothing keeping me here. Last night was nice, this,” you look down at the blanket at your feet, the bouquet of flowers laying at the far edge next to the empty bottle you shared and finished before you lost all sense and spent the rest of your last night in Greece tangled up together under the stars…, “it was really nice.” You smile softly to yourself as the night replays in your mind, “No one’s ever done anything like this for me, and I appreciate it so much, I love tha-,”

“I love you,” he cuts you off with a sincerity in his confession so clear and deep, you lose all words of your own as you meet his gaze - truly stunned silent. There’s a touch of hurt swimming in his crystal blues and you want nothing more than to take back whatever it was you said that caused it.

“And I’m here. Let me keep you here,” he whispers as he gently takes your face in his hands.

“You love me?” you ask quietly as you touch his wrist.

“I love you,” he repeats, his eyes bearing into yours as he refuses to break the contact.

He loves you. It’s only been a month and he loves you and you… you…

“I love you,” you reply, more sure of that fact than you have been of anything else since you first even decided to come to Greece.

“You love me?” He smirks softly, a look of relief washing over his face.

You nod, a small smile quirking at the corner of your lips as you step even closer into him, despite the fact that you’re already pressed up against each other. “I love you.”

He doesn’t waste another second before his lips are crashing into yours. The undercurrent of desperation in his touch sends a new wave of nerves through you. You aren’t sure if it’s anxiety or excitement. Probably a mix of both.

You’re lost to him as he keeps you close, kissing you with such intensity you don’t know how you’re even still standing.

Finally he pulls away, though not enough to put any real space between you.

“Move in with me.”

Your eyes widen at his words. “What?” you titter in disbelief.

“Move in with me,” he repeats. “You don’t have anywhere else planned, I have an extra room, cheap rent, good food,” he eyes you hotly, smirking again, “great sex,” he shrugs.

You laugh, unable to fight the smile breaking on your face.

“Are you serious?” you question.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve known you for a month and you’ve never once invited me over,” you point out. “I’ve never even seen where you live.”

“We can change that,” he says with a smile, “right now.”

——

The water from the shower head is warm and relaxing, and though you had to wash with soap that isn’t your usual, you don’t mind all too much the scent of it. It smells like him.

You don’t even realize you’re smiling as you wash the remaining suds off of your body. You feel clean and refreshed and a little less stressed.

His place is nice, and you don’t have much in the way of belongings anyway, so the move won’t be too bad either.

The move…

God, is this insane? Moving in with a man you’ve only known for a month, extending your stay in a country you’ve only been visiting for just as long, hell, looking into visas - something you never even considered before.

It is. Surely. You know that. And yet, it feels…right?

It’s like he’s cast some magic spell over you. You met him your third day here. You didn’t expect anything more than that night from him, but now here you are.

You turn off the water and reach for the towel he had given you to use, patting yourself off before wrapping it as best you can around your body.

You look in the mirror and raise a brow at yourself. You look like you’re wearing a mini dress with a thigh slit.

You really need to get your things from your apartment. Your bath sheet would never leave you this cold.

Stepping out into the hallway once you’re sure you aren’t dripping, you see Mickey coming out of the bedroom as he hears the bathroom door open and close behind you.

He’s stopped in his tracks as his eyes roll over you, he whistles as he leans against the open doorframe while you carefully take steps toward him.

“You really look good in anything, don’t you,” he says, voice heady and eyes eager and hungry.

You roll your eyes playfully as you approach him, “I really didn’t think this shower through. I won’t have anything clean to put on until my dress is dry.”

“I have clothes you can wear,” he offers.

You feel your skin heat up as he turns to walk back into his room.

There’s no way, you think to yourself.

You hear a drawer open and listen to the sound of his rifling around. Maybe he has a friend’s clothes or something. Or old clothes from the woman who lived here before him?

There is no way he’s gonna come back with…

“Here,” he says, presenting you with a pair of pants and a t shirt. You look at them, then back to him, then to the clothing again.

You smile in unbelief as you look at him again. “Are you being funny?” you laugh lightly.

His brow furrows as he looks at you. “Huh?”

You look at the clothes again. You really can’t help but laugh now, “Are you serious?” you ask again.

“What?” he says, more confused now than he just was.

“Mickey,” you begin, taking the pants from him and holding them up against your body, “in what fucking world do you think I would fit these?”

He goes a little red as he finally gets your meaning. A bashful smiling on his face as he looks at you, almost apologetic.

“I wasn’t really thinking I guess,” he says, still holding the t shirt.

“Yeah,” you agree with a small, amused laugh of your own. “I mean have you seen these thighs,” you gesture.

“I have,” he smirks, stepping closer, letting the shirt drop as he moves to caress your exposed skin below the hem of the towel. “Up close and personal,” he adds, taking another step closer.

He leans down closer to you, speaking against your lips as youre caught in his magnetic field once again.

“I love them,” he smirks before kissing you, soft at first, then deeper as his hands slide up your thighs. Your own are holding onto his shirt now, allowing him to easily get the towel to drop as his arms push it while he touches you with slow hands up and up your body, skin still damp and now tingling under his touch.

“Okay, so you don’t have clean clothes until the load is done,” he says between kisses, hands gripping your soft waist, “lucky for you, I can think of plenty of things we can do with no clothes on for the next hour.” Another kiss as he pulls you with him, walking backwards. “Next couple hours,” he shrugs. Another kiss as you laugh against his lips while he guides you into his bedroom. “Maybe all night, who knows.”

——

Your eyes flutter as you grip onto his hair, his face buried between your legs while his hands grip your thick thighs, keeping you open for him while he eats you out to his heart’s content.

It’s overwhelming and not enough all at the same time. Your thighs are shaking as his tongue circles your clit over and over again, bringing you to the edge of your third orgasm. You don’t know how much more you can take but you’re more than happy to find out.

Your hips buck despite yourself and the vibrations of his moan against your pussy are what finally push you over the edge again. You gasp and your muscles tense as your body arches while he works you through the high. Your eyes are rolled back as broken moans and whimpers fall past your lips.

You come down slowly and Mickey finally moves away from your sensitive cunt, but he doesn’t go far as he stays between your legs. His hands are still on your thighs as he squeezes you softly, trailing his lips up one thigh and down the other as you watch him.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your skin as he peppers kisses everywhere he can. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“Are you talking to me or my thighs?” you ask, voice sounding slurred in your sex drunk haze.

You feel his smirk against your skin as he kisses your thigh again. “Both,” he answers, rubbing your leg and squeezing once more before he crawls up your body, his touch sending your every nerve alight as he drags his hands across your skin.

When he’s above you, you can’t do anything but stare into the oceans of his eyes, forever getting lost to the sea blues, twinkling with adoration for no one but you.

You gingerly reach up to caress his still stubbly cheek as he peers down at you. He tilts his face into your touch, and leans closer as you reach up to meet his lips.

You moan against him as you taste your sex on his tongue, and he takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth. His nose brushes yours and as you settle back down onto the mattress, he follows you down.

Your hand slips from his cheek, down his throat, and then his chest. You feel his muscles tense beneath your touch as he keeps himself from laying down on you completely - though you really wouldn’t mind the weight of him on top of you if he did.

You sigh as he breaks the kiss, breathing heavy. You watch as he pushes himself up and sits back on his knees. He grabs his hard length in one hand, the other coming to your hip as you spread your legs further for him in anticipation. He pumps himself a bit, biting his lip as he holds back a moan.

Your eyes are heavy as you watch his every move and you whimper as he groans when he rubs his cock head up and down your slick cunt. Over and over again, up and down, brushing up over your sensitive clit and then sliding back down to push ever so slightly into you. He’s teasing you and it’s torture.

Luckily, he can’t take much more himself.

He presses into you again, but this time he doesn’t pull out. He inches deeper inside you, slow - making sure you feel every bit of him as he stretches you out and fills you up.

He starts moving inside you, in and out as he rocks his hips in perfect rhythm. His breath hitches when your walls squeeze his length as he brushes against the spot that has you seeing stars.

“That it, baby? Right there?” he asks, sure he knows the answer but loving the fact that you can’t find the words to speak it yourself as he moves against it again. He’s deep and it feels so good.

He fucks you with long strokes, his big hands holding you tight as you lay beneath him, looking blissed out and on the edge of ecstasy in the same breath.

His grip gets tighter as he fucks you deeper, rutting into you harder. The moans that come from him as he praises you have the coil in your belly growing tighter and tighter as you inch closer to your orgasm.

You’re both covered in a light sheen of sweat and breathing heavier as your moans and the sounds of your skin slapping against each other’s fill the room.

Your hands are reaching for him, touching him everywhere you can in your lust filled haze. He’s inside of you and yet somehow you still need him closer. His name falling like a prayer off your lips.

He indulges your desperation as he leans heavier into you, coming face to face as you murmur your pleas for him. Whimpers leaving you as he hits that spot over and over again.

Your walls constrict around him tightly as your orgasm builds and as your eyes squeeze closed, the coil in your belly finally snaps; your nerves light up, the wave of white hot energy rolling through you with an intensity you aren’t sure you’ve ever experienced. You moan loudly and wantonly as he fucks you through it and you feel his cock throb inside of you.

You’re like a vice around him and he curses loudly between moans that border on whimpers. His cock twitches and he’s vaguely aware he should pull out but you don’t give him the chance. He doesn’t have the time to even try when your walls squeeze him again as they pulse with your orgasm. He can’t hold himself back, it feels too good, and before he knows it he’s coming inside you. Rope after rope of his cum spills into you, filling you up and leaving you full of him.

You feel the spurts of his cum as they hit your walls, but you’re much too high to care. It feels good, feeling him. And knowing you brought him to his end, knowing you can make him feel as good as he makes you feel. You love it. This, right here with him, is heaven like you’ve never known.

Your eyes are still closed as Mickey collapses on top of you. His head is on your chest as he works to even out his breathing while you absentmindedly card a hand through his soft, messy hair.

After a moment, he gets up, gently pulling his softening length from you. You can feel the mess of your mixed release between your legs as he removes himself.

You sigh lightly at the feeling while he flops over to lay down beside you.

As if in perfect time, the dryer sounds the end of its cycle.

You lazily look over to Mickey who is already looking back at you.

“My clothes are done,” you say, stating the obvious before taking a deep breath as you still work to even out your breathing. “Should we go?”

“Ya know, I was thinking about it while you were in the shower,” he begins, pulling you into him, tugging you closer as you roll into him and titter, “we could go get your stuff today if you want, but,”

“But,” you echo.

“You don’t have to be out until Sunday, right?”

“Mhm.”

“So we can spend the day here. I’m not working tonight, we can stay in… get you to feel more at home. We can get your things tomorrow.”

You look at him, thinking about the offer for a second.

“So I’m gonna be stuck in the same outfit three days in a row?” you quirk a brow.

The smirk that he wears lets you know his intentions before he even answers you as his hand slides up and down your hip before slipping further to squeeze your ass, pulling you closer.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes a chuckle, “what makes you think we’re gonna be doing anything that calls for you being dressed today?”

You eye him, narrowing your eyes a bit in jest before you have to bite your lip to fight your grin. Then you lean into him, stopping less than an inch away from his lips before you smile and press your lips to his, kissing him hotly and letting your hand come up to hold his face as he moves to hold you in kind, keeping you close as he returns your fervency.

This is insane, you think again as you smile into the kiss.

And yet, somehow…

Nothing’s ever felt more right.

[waywardcrow]

Why I can’t have this man to convince to leave everything to live with him and just 🫠.

Amazing as always Bella! I don’t read a lot about Mickey but coming from you, I knew it would be great!

have i known you twenty seconds, or twenty years?

pairing: mickey henry x curvy!reader

warnings: smut. fluff. not edited. warnings not exhaustive in the slightest.

words: 3.3k

notes: hi. i watched Monday finally and fell in love. haven’t been writing much lately but this happened out of nowhere. hope you enjoy. thank you in advance for reading. 🫶🏻

You wake slowly with a grumble, a chill breeze flowing over you as goosebumps prick along your skin.

Your eyes squeeze tighter, not ready to open just yet, and you hug yourself closer - needing protection from the cool air.

As you start to move, stretching the sleep from your body, you register the weight of something draped over your waist. You open your eyes finally and all at once you register where you are, and the fact that you are not alone.

Mickey’s arm is heavy on you as he sleeps, pressed close behind you. His hand rests on your belly and as you look down yourself, you realize that you are completely naked.

“Oh my god,” you whisper groan to noone.

You touch him gently, careful not to disturb his sleep as you move his arm off of you.

Your attempt at not waking him is futile as he grumbles when you let his arm drop. It’s a deep noise, and you almost laugh at how annoyed he sounds before his hold is on you once again. you don’t even have the chance to get up before he’s urging you onto your back without a word, without so much as blinking open an eye.

You don’t fight it, and once you’re laying down, he rolls over - a little groggily moving to straddle you. He grunts as he holds himself over you and you do nothing but gaze up at him. The stubble that lines his jaw is darker now than it was last night, the lines by his eyes deeper as he squeezes his eyes shut tighter for a second before he finally blinks them open - ocean blues staring down at you as a soft smile takes its place on his lips.

“Hey,” he smiles, voice still lingering with sleep. His eyes squint just so as he stares down at you and the sun shines onto him.

He lifts a hand to shield his eyes, but he doesn’t move from over you.

“Hi,” you reply breathily, the sound of the tide coming in not far from where you lay almost drowning out your voice.

“Good morning,” he whispers as he lowers himself closer to you. You’re still as you watch him and you don’t move even as his lips brush yours.

It’s soft and almost too quick before he pulls away and pushes himself up. He’s straddling you, his large hands ghosting down your body before they settle on your hips.

“Morning…” you take a breath as your skin warms under his touch, under his stare. “We’re on the beach,” you say, earning a nod from him. “And we’re naked,” you point out.

“We are.”

“We shouldn’t be.”

“No?” he smirks.

“No.”

He nods and considers you for a second longer before he moves. He gets up off of you but you don’t move until he hands you your dress from last night. You offer a thank you as you shake the sand off of it - grateful for the blanket beneath you that’s at least kept you from being covered in sand yourself.

You pull the dress on, and slowly get to your knees. You watch as he pulls his own shirt on, buckling his belt after he adjusts his wrinkled pants.

He turns to you then, grabbing your hand as he helps you up. As soon as you’re on two feet, he pulls you against him, earning a gasp from you at the surprise. You look up at him, that same smile still playing on his pretty face as he looks at you.

“You’re not really leaving today, are you?”

“Mickey,” you look down, eyes glued to his chest. You’re worried if you look him in the eye again he’ll convince you to stay ‘just a little longer’.

Like he did last week.

And the week before…

“You don’t have to go, you know.”

“I do,” you argue, looking back up, “you know I do. I’m supposed to be out of my apartment by Sunday, and I already bought the ticket for tonight.”

“Get a refund,” he shrugs, holding you closer.

“Mickey,” you sigh, “There’s nothing keeping me here. Last night was nice, this,” you look down at the blanket at your feet, the bouquet of flowers laying at the far edge next to the empty bottle you shared and finished before you lost all sense and spent the rest of your last night in Greece tangled up together under the stars…, “it was really nice.” You smile softly to yourself as the night replays in your mind, “No one’s ever done anything like this for me, and I appreciate it so much, I love tha-,”

“I love you,” he cuts you off with a sincerity in his confession so clear and deep, you lose all words of your own as you meet his gaze - truly stunned silent. There’s a touch of hurt swimming in his crystal blues and you want nothing more than to take back whatever it was you said that caused it.

“And I’m here. Let me keep you here,” he whispers as he gently takes your face in his hands.

“You love me?” you ask quietly as you touch his wrist.

“I love you,” he repeats, his eyes bearing into yours as he refuses to break the contact.

He loves you. It’s only been a month and he loves you and you… you…

“I love you,” you reply, more sure of that fact than you have been of anything else since you first even decided to come to Greece.

“You love me?” He smirks softly, a look of relief washing over his face.

You nod, a small smile quirking at the corner of your lips as you step even closer into him, despite the fact that you’re already pressed up against each other. “I love you.”

He doesn’t waste another second before his lips are crashing into yours. The undercurrent of desperation in his touch sends a new wave of nerves through you. You aren’t sure if it’s anxiety or excitement. Probably a mix of both.

You’re lost to him as he keeps you close, kissing you with such intensity you don’t know how you’re even still standing.

Finally he pulls away, though not enough to put any real space between you.

“Move in with me.”

Your eyes widen at his words. “What?” you titter in disbelief.

“Move in with me,” he repeats. “You don’t have anywhere else planned, I have an extra room, cheap rent, good food,” he eyes you hotly, smirking again, “great sex,” he shrugs.

You laugh, unable to fight the smile breaking on your face.

“Are you serious?” you question.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve known you for a month and you’ve never once invited me over,” you point out. “I’ve never even seen where you live.”

“We can change that,” he says with a smile, “right now.”

——

The water from the shower head is warm and relaxing, and though you had to wash with soap that isn’t your usual, you don’t mind all too much the scent of it. It smells like him.

You don’t even realize you’re smiling as you wash the remaining suds off of your body. You feel clean and refreshed and a little less stressed.

His place is nice, and you don’t have much in the way of belongings anyway, so the move won’t be too bad either.

The move…

God, is this insane? Moving in with a man you’ve only known for a month, extending your stay in a country you’ve only been visiting for just as long, hell, looking into visas - something you never even considered before.

It is. Surely. You know that. And yet, it feels…right?

It’s like he’s cast some magic spell over you. You met him your third day here. You didn’t expect anything more than that night from him, but now here you are.

You turn off the water and reach for the towel he had given you to use, patting yourself off before wrapping it as best you can around your body.

You look in the mirror and raise a brow at yourself. You look like you’re wearing a mini dress with a thigh slit.

You really need to get your things from your apartment. Your bath sheet would never leave you this cold.

Stepping out into the hallway once you’re sure you aren’t dripping, you see Mickey coming out of the bedroom as he hears the bathroom door open and close behind you.

He’s stopped in his tracks as his eyes roll over you, he whistles as he leans against the open doorframe while you carefully take steps toward him.

“You really look good in anything, don’t you,” he says, voice heady and eyes eager and hungry.

You roll your eyes playfully as you approach him, “I really didn’t think this shower through. I won’t have anything clean to put on until my dress is dry.”

“I have clothes you can wear,” he offers.

You feel your skin heat up as he turns to walk back into his room.

There’s no way, you think to yourself.

You hear a drawer open and listen to the sound of his rifling around. Maybe he has a friend’s clothes or something. Or old clothes from the woman who lived here before him?

There is no way he’s gonna come back with…

“Here,” he says, presenting you with a pair of pants and a t shirt. You look at them, then back to him, then to the clothing again.

You smile in unbelief as you look at him again. “Are you being funny?” you laugh lightly.

His brow furrows as he looks at you. “Huh?”

You look at the clothes again. You really can’t help but laugh now, “Are you serious?” you ask again.

“What?” he says, more confused now than he just was.

“Mickey,” you begin, taking the pants from him and holding them up against your body, “in what fucking world do you think I would fit these?”

He goes a little red as he finally gets your meaning. A bashful smiling on his face as he looks at you, almost apologetic.

“I wasn’t really thinking I guess,” he says, still holding the t shirt.

“Yeah,” you agree with a small, amused laugh of your own. “I mean have you seen these thighs,” you gesture.

“I have,” he smirks, stepping closer, letting the shirt drop as he moves to caress your exposed skin below the hem of the towel. “Up close and personal,” he adds, taking another step closer.

He leans down closer to you, speaking against your lips as youre caught in his magnetic field once again.

“I love them,” he smirks before kissing you, soft at first, then deeper as his hands slide up your thighs. Your own are holding onto his shirt now, allowing him to easily get the towel to drop as his arms push it while he touches you with slow hands up and up your body, skin still damp and now tingling under his touch.

“Okay, so you don’t have clean clothes until the load is done,” he says between kisses, hands gripping your soft waist, “lucky for you, I can think of plenty of things we can do with no clothes on for the next hour.” Another kiss as he pulls you with him, walking backwards. “Next couple hours,” he shrugs. Another kiss as you laugh against his lips while he guides you into his bedroom. “Maybe all night, who knows.”

——

Your eyes flutter as you grip onto his hair, his face buried between your legs while his hands grip your thick thighs, keeping you open for him while he eats you out to his heart’s content.

It’s overwhelming and not enough all at the same time. Your thighs are shaking as his tongue circles your clit over and over again, bringing you to the edge of your third orgasm. You don’t know how much more you can take but you’re more than happy to find out.

Your hips buck despite yourself and the vibrations of his moan against your pussy are what finally push you over the edge again. You gasp and your muscles tense as your body arches while he works you through the high. Your eyes are rolled back as broken moans and whimpers fall past your lips.

You come down slowly and Mickey finally moves away from your sensitive cunt, but he doesn’t go far as he stays between your legs. His hands are still on your thighs as he squeezes you softly, trailing his lips up one thigh and down the other as you watch him.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your skin as he peppers kisses everywhere he can. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“Are you talking to me or my thighs?” you ask, voice sounding slurred in your sex drunk haze.

You feel his smirk against your skin as he kisses your thigh again. “Both,” he answers, rubbing your leg and squeezing once more before he crawls up your body, his touch sending your every nerve alight as he drags his hands across your skin.

When he’s above you, you can’t do anything but stare into the oceans of his eyes, forever getting lost to the sea blues, twinkling with adoration for no one but you.

You gingerly reach up to caress his still stubbly cheek as he peers down at you. He tilts his face into your touch, and leans closer as you reach up to meet his lips.

You moan against him as you taste your sex on his tongue, and he takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth. His nose brushes yours and as you settle back down onto the mattress, he follows you down.

Your hand slips from his cheek, down his throat, and then his chest. You feel his muscles tense beneath your touch as he keeps himself from laying down on you completely - though you really wouldn’t mind the weight of him on top of you if he did.

You sigh as he breaks the kiss, breathing heavy. You watch as he pushes himself up and sits back on his knees. He grabs his hard length in one hand, the other coming to your hip as you spread your legs further for him in anticipation. He pumps himself a bit, biting his lip as he holds back a moan.

Your eyes are heavy as you watch his every move and you whimper as he groans when he rubs his cock head up and down your slick cunt. Over and over again, up and down, brushing up over your sensitive clit and then sliding back down to push ever so slightly into you. He’s teasing you and it’s torture.

Luckily, he can’t take much more himself.

He presses into you again, but this time he doesn’t pull out. He inches deeper inside you, slow - making sure you feel every bit of him as he stretches you out and fills you up.

He starts moving inside you, in and out as he rocks his hips in perfect rhythm. His breath hitches when your walls squeeze his length as he brushes against the spot that has you seeing stars.

“That it, baby? Right there?” he asks, sure he knows the answer but loving the fact that you can’t find the words to speak it yourself as he moves against it again. He’s deep and it feels so good.

He fucks you with long strokes, his big hands holding you tight as you lay beneath him, looking blissed out and on the edge of ecstasy in the same breath.

His grip gets tighter as he fucks you deeper, rutting into you harder. The moans that come from him as he praises you have the coil in your belly growing tighter and tighter as you inch closer to your orgasm.

You’re both covered in a light sheen of sweat and breathing heavier as your moans and the sounds of your skin slapping against each other’s fill the room.

Your hands are reaching for him, touching him everywhere you can in your lust filled haze. He’s inside of you and yet somehow you still need him closer. His name falling like a prayer off your lips.

He indulges your desperation as he leans heavier into you, coming face to face as you murmur your pleas for him. Whimpers leaving you as he hits that spot over and over again.

Your walls constrict around him tightly as your orgasm builds and as your eyes squeeze closed, the coil in your belly finally snaps; your nerves light up, the wave of white hot energy rolling through you with an intensity you aren’t sure you’ve ever experienced. You moan loudly and wantonly as he fucks you through it and you feel his cock throb inside of you.

You’re like a vice around him and he curses loudly between moans that border on whimpers. His cock twitches and he’s vaguely aware he should pull out but you don’t give him the chance. He doesn’t have the time to even try when your walls squeeze him again as they pulse with your orgasm. He can’t hold himself back, it feels too good, and before he knows it he’s coming inside you. Rope after rope of his cum spills into you, filling you up and leaving you full of him.

You feel the spurts of his cum as they hit your walls, but you’re much too high to care. It feels good, feeling him. And knowing you brought him to his end, knowing you can make him feel as good as he makes you feel. You love it. This, right here with him, is heaven like you’ve never known.

Your eyes are still closed as Mickey collapses on top of you. His head is on your chest as he works to even out his breathing while you absentmindedly card a hand through his soft, messy hair.

After a moment, he gets up, gently pulling his softening length from you. You can feel the mess of your mixed release between your legs as he removes himself.

You sigh lightly at the feeling while he flops over to lay down beside you.

As if in perfect time, the dryer sounds the end of its cycle.

You lazily look over to Mickey who is already looking back at you.

“My clothes are done,” you say, stating the obvious before taking a deep breath as you still work to even out your breathing. “Should we go?”

“Ya know, I was thinking about it while you were in the shower,” he begins, pulling you into him, tugging you closer as you roll into him and titter, “we could go get your stuff today if you want, but,”

“But,” you echo.

“You don’t have to be out until Sunday, right?”

“Mhm.”

“So we can spend the day here. I’m not working tonight, we can stay in… get you to feel more at home. We can get your things tomorrow.”

You look at him, thinking about the offer for a second.

“So I’m gonna be stuck in the same outfit three days in a row?” you quirk a brow.

The smirk that he wears lets you know his intentions before he even answers you as his hand slides up and down your hip before slipping further to squeeze your ass, pulling you closer.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes a chuckle, “what makes you think we’re gonna be doing anything that calls for you being dressed today?”

You eye him, narrowing your eyes a bit in jest before you have to bite your lip to fight your grin. Then you lean into him, stopping less than an inch away from his lips before you smile and press your lips to his, kissing him hotly and letting your hand come up to hold his face as he moves to hold you in kind, keeping you close as he returns your fervency.

This is insane, you think again as you smile into the kiss.

And yet, somehow…

Nothing’s ever felt more right.

#lilcrowmasterlist

[waywardcrow]

Every black girl is so pretty

*reblog if you agree*