Prefect Duties | D.m

prefect duties | d.m

draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary : Snape asked Draco to watch over you in detention

warning : NSFW! smut, swearing, degradation (just a lil), praising, dom!draco, choking kink, mentions of alcohol and weed

word count : 4.1K

It was a Friday night, a party blasting through the Ravenclaw tower, yet you are stuck inside the cold palace of the potions classroom, serving detention for Snape. 

Earlier that day you had agreed to help the Weasley twins with their prank, but unfortunately, it had gone wrong. It is not often that the three of you would get caught since you always think the plan through, but since you were in a hurry the prank ended up sloppy. Don’t get me wrong, you successfully pulled the prank– you just didn’t successfully get away with it. The twins, however, got away– slipping into one of the secret passages inside the walls of Hogwarts, you weren’t so lucky. 

Keep reading

Almost: One Shot

Summary: You’ve put others first your whole life, and so had Bucky Barnes. It’s about time you realize you deserve your happy ending.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader, Steve Rogers x reader (not stucky)

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Angst, self-sabotage, alcohol, sad bucky, fluff, SMUT 18+ ONLY

A/N: Concussions suck. I am finally feeling like myself again! Here’s a tasty one shot, im so sorry its so long lol I missed you guys! Feedback is so so appreciated! <3 

Do the right thing.

Those four little words have had a hold your entire life.

Make smart choices. Be practical—but selfless. Be kind, do what’s best for others and put other people first.

Do the right thing.

You shook your head, desperate to rattle the intrusive thoughts out of it. Then you raise your empty shot glass, a signal to the bartender that your efforts proved futile.

Keep reading

Pernicious Prospect

Summary: Playing a little game to seal the fate of your life is only fun when you play it with a spider.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 5.6k ish

Warnings: Dark!Natasha, dark fic!!!!!, drugging (nat's serum), intense gun play (Russian Roulette), alcohol (and making bad decisions drunk), slight inspection kink, faux drowning..? kinda?, Nat is mean but also sweet. Toxic Nat. degradation, slight size kink if you squint, lots of names, hostage vibes?, stalking vibes, technically Stockholm syndrome too

*As usual let me know if I missed anything important*

***MINORS DNI*** ***18+***

A/N: This got a lot longer than it was supposed to be lol BUT look i wrote a dark fic without blood :O im just as surprised as you ALSO ignore any mistakes I made in this :) We ALSO dont talk about the hellsite not posting this yesterday :)

Main Master list // Kitmoas | Occult

You weren’t aware of the deep forest eyes watching as you danced with your friends in the club, a few drinks in and no show of stopping anytime soon. The group had no idea when everyone would go home, a Friday night after a huge test meant everyone wanted to party until they couldn’t remember their names.Someone knew when you were going home, had your entire night planned down to how many drinks you would be having. Not once did they let you out of their sight, after months of observation and planning everything was ready. 

The anxiety and stress that you felt the past few weeks was melting out of your brain as you downed more and more shots. Stumbling towards the bar you yell over the music asking for another drink, but the man just shakes his head before walking away. Whipping around to try and find your friends, jumping when you come face to face with the ginger. In your intoxicated state it takes your brain far longer than you would normally would have to recognize who was standing in front of you, but when you finally do your jaw drops. “Oh m’gosh! You’re ‘lack widow!” 

The woman in front of you cringes internally at your slurred speech, cursing herself for letting you drink so much, but she smiles softly at you regardless. “I am, sweetie. Are you okay? You seem far too drunk to be left alone.” You stumble forward just on time, cursing yourself at your clumsiness in front of the Avenger. “Let me accompany you home? I can drive so you don’t have to walk.” She watches as you melt just from her simple words, smug at how quickly you agree. 

You watch with wide delighted eyes as Natasha pays off your entire tab, making sure you pocket your credit card. She also quickly helps clean up any mess that you created, letting each one of your friends know that she would be escorting you home. Tipping not only each bartender, but each bouncer, as she tied up any loose ends that you may be leaving behind. Lastly she even had you use the bathroom before you left, holding your bag as she waited patiently outside the door after checking that you would have the entire bathroom to yourself. 

She easily guides you outside, her strength coming into play each time you stumble or sway too much. You’re talking loudly, asking her what car is hers but she just stays silent; nodding politely at people as you pass them. Basically swooning when she opens your door for you, you giggle as you crumble in the passenger seat of her Stingray. 

It doesn’t take much time for you to be excitedly climbing all over, leaning heavily against the dashboard with your face squished against the windshield. Mumbling out slurred directions, you try your hardest to direct the ginger on where to go to get to your house but unbeknownst to you she had every single route from the bar possible memorized. Playing along with your excitement each time you saw a landmark you recognized, she bathed you in praise and relished in each happy wiggle she got in return. 

Even though she drove at an exceptionally slow pace, an attempt to keep you safe as you clambered around the car, she felt as though the two of you arrived at your apartment all too quickly. Pulling up in front of your building, she makes sure the coast is clear before walking around the car to open your door for you. You stare up at her, admiring her face as the moon and street lights illuminate her.

Stumbling as she drags you out of the car, “C-come inside please just for little yknow.” You tangle your fingers in her flowy shirt, humming in appreciation at the soft fabric. “Please…just at least to help?” You’re unsure of where this clinginess came from, the need to act cool in front of her slowly disappearing at the idea of the widow leaving your life just as quickly as she entered. 

Natasha acts naive, innocent even, as she humbly agrees to make sure you get in bed with water and ibuprofen. Her devious smirk only appears once your focus is on the door, fumbling to unlock it. Her steady hand lands on yours, her warm body pressing against your back. Entirely too buzzed you don’t question how she knows your intricate passcode, instead giddy as you drag her into your home. Spinning to show her everything, slurred rambling as you point things out. 

She nods along, mindlessly listening to random facts about trinkets she already knows about, as she moves around your kitchen. Getting you a Gatorade, not water knowing you won’t drink it, and a snack she sighs as she looks around for your medicine. “Do you think you can find your pain meds by yourself drunkie, or will that be too much for your fuzzy little brain?” Watching you salute, taking your given job extremely seriously, the ginger smirks as she cracks open the capsule from her bracelet into your drink. 

By the time you come back, tripping over your own feet, triumphantly holding a bottle of pills above your head Natasha had already set the food by your bed and gotten you pajamas. Before she can stop you, you’re stripping at the excited idea of wearing something she wants to see you in. “Than’u it’s sooooo comfy!” Flopping onto the bed, you roll around as you look up ar her. She’s watching you, careful eyes, as she waits for you to calm down. 

Reaching out to hold your hand, she pulls you into a sitting position gently. A smile on her face as she brings the tray of food and drinks over, “Do me a favor, dove, just get a little bit of something in your stomach? For me?” 

The way she’s looking at you will forever be engraved in your mind, something you would never be able to deny. You can’t even attempt to fight her, gobbling up the pretzel sticks and downing the gatorade greedily. You preen under her attention, wiggling at the small achievement of earning her momentary praise. Quieting down as you settle in bed, head nestled in the pillows as your attention turns to the quiet television show she turned on. 

You’re blissfully unaware of how she watches you, sharp eyes waiting for a flash of cherry red haze. It only takes a few moments, blinking as if you have something in your eyes before you have an urge to be near her. Natasha is sitting at the edge of the bed, a normally respectable distance but you need her closer and that is starting to scare you. 

It doesn't take long for the widow to realize you’re squirming, a distressed look on your face, and she knows that you truly are the perfect little experiment for her own serum. Her rough calloused hand slips across your jaw, turning your head back and forth before it closes around your throat. Inspection of you doesn’t take long, your mind clearing from its initial hit of serum all too quickly for Natasha. 

Once your eyes do clear, and you’re able to ignore the way your pussy throbs and your muscles shake, the widow can see the anger rising. She watches the way your body tenses, and she knows your fight or flight is kicking in. Even though she’s expecting it, the way you flail about surprises her. Your fist only an inch or two away from her face, you keep trying to strike her but it’s almost as though she’s inside an invisible box. Hitting the unseen wall over and over again, you stare in shock at your own hand. 

You try pulling it back, gently pushing your palm forward but you are able to cup her cheek. Stuttering, you want to ask what is going on but the words are lost in your throat. Gasping you try to breathe as you can feel the panic filling your body, something was weird and you knew that it had to be some sort of Avenger science or maybe something from Russia. This was all too much and your favorite hero was suddenly turning into a dark shadow that would loom over you for the rest of your life. 

Before you can even try to escape, still on your back, as an electroshock travels through your body radiating from the small red electric disk now stuck on your body. Paralyzing, you can feel the energy swarming through your body and the scream that rips from your throat is shrill. She’s moving your body, manipulating it as she wants and for some unknown reason you just let her. 

Spread out on the bed, you try your hardest to figure out a way to escape. This was your room, your home, and you still felt trapped. You’re unsure of what she did to you but you feel sluggish and it’s almost like you can’t move as she walks away. The widow is only gone momentarily but the moment she settles back on the bed, your heart beat seemingly settles down. 

Natasha reaches for you, rough hands running up your thighs as she watches your abs tense from her touch. “You know, you were so cute and just so excited to put on the clothes I wanted.” She pulls at the flimsy crop top and skin tight booty shorts, chuckling at just how naive you are. “It was so easy to get you right where I want you, it’s almost pathetic. Almost too easy.” Her hands are ghosting between your legs, running her nails along the most sensitive parts of your lower body. 

The tearing of your shorts doesn’t surprise you, your brain working overtime to attempt to be one step ahead of what was happening. If you could come to terms with it, maybe you could find the strength to fight it. You curse your body for reacting to the way she touches you, knowing that your crush on her doesn’t help, when her fingers touch your uncovered pussy. She can see the wetness shining in the dim lighting, and she uses her thumb to smear the slick. “If you really wanted me to stop, don’t you think you would be just a little less wet?” 

Her hands are everywhere, pulling at your nipples and scratching down your torso. You want to keep your eyes open to try and stay alert but you can’t help when they slip closed. It shouldn’t come as much of a surprise when you feel your fingers probing you, poking and pulling you open. She’s inspecting you again, silently. It shouldn’t make an intense wave of arousal hit you, but you know she sees the wetness gush out of you as she opens you up. 

The ginger makes an appreciative noise, deep in her throat before she begins to push 2 fingers into you. She grunts when she meets resistance, you're wet but still tight. Ignoring the way you squirm away, trying to kick and claw at her hand, Natasha just moves her fingers faster. Occasionally letting her thumb rub at your clit, hard and throbbing. It isn’t long until she notices the changes. 

No matter how hard you want to say you hate the way her long rough fingers move inside you, you can’t deny how close you are. It’s embarrassing but after months, almost years, of crushing on the infamous Black Widow how could you not react so easily to her. You had yearned for someone to treat you roughly, to take you and use your body as they pleased, but you never had found someone that wasn’t too scared to do it. 

Even as you realized each step she was going to make, you weren’t finding the strength to truly fight it. If anything you were finding ways to excuse her, to let yourself fall into her web. Your body was already cracking under the pressure, arousal leaking down your thighs and into the sheets below you. It was only a matter of time before your brain fully caught up, you knew that you didn’t have the mental strength to go up against someone so highly trained like the Black Widow.  

Your body was getting used to the force that Natasha was shoving her fingers into you, creeping towards the edge. The way your body’s temperature rose slowly signified the steady build of your orgasm. Reduced to just quiet pants and moans, you wanted to beg the widow to move faster–to take what she wanted. 

Unbeknownst to you, you never had to ask or tell the ginger to take what she wanted from you. You were naive and innocent to what she had infected your body with. From this moment on you would be hers, to do whatever she could imagine doing to you. She was being generous by stretching your body, stretching her pussy. 

Ownership was something the Russian always struggled with, after years of never truly having something of her own, but when she saw you she knew that no one else would ever touch you. Months of planning and creating the perfect serum, all so that you would be laid out underneath her. All so that she could finally own something all by herself, her favorite thing–you. 

Your moans and the warmth in your stomach were driving you crazy, it felt like she wouldn’t just shove you over the edge. Straddling the line between ecstasy and torture, you let your mouth fall open. Jaw cracking as you mewl, begging to be touched with more purpose. 

Through hooded eyes you see your jade counterpart’s roll, an annoyed grunt breaking through barred teeth. “Such a needy little thing even after fighting me. Have you learned your lesson yet?” Her question goes unanswered when she pulls her fingers out, tucking the last two in. She’s enchanted as she watches your leaking red pussy open up, stretching to take four of her digits. 

It isn’t gentle, and she’s shoving them inside you, but it’s enough to make you topple over the edge. Your back arching, and a scream tearing through your throat. It isn’t exactly the most pleasurable orgasm, entirely too mixed with intense waves of pain. It’s short lived, the widow yanking her fingers out of you and leaving you clenching around nothing. Your slick dribbling slowly out of you and coating your thighs even more. She leaves you a sticky mess as she stands, wiping the wetness from her hand on your heaving stomach. 

As you’re still trying to recover, Natasha starts moving you. Chastising you when you begin to whine, pulling and pushing you so you’re on your knees. Her touch is almost gentle as she guides you into the position she wants. Your face is pushed into the bed, drool soaking the fabric as you try to breathe. Something settles along your torso, possibly her own body, but you’re overstimulated and your senses can’t make sense of anything.  

You hear metal clanking rapidly, almost high pitched, and it makes your blood run cold. Ragged breathing as you try to bring air to your lungs with your face is pushed into the warm damp sheets. The pressure between your shoulder blades and along your hips keeps in place, even as your muscles twitch as the anxiety builds. The sound was familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it. 

A cool heavy steel trails along your ribs, tapping teasingly against each bone. “You wanna play a game, malysh?” She mocks you, seemingly giving you a choice. Her hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head up. The shiny revolver obstructs your blurry vision as you gulp down as much oxygen as possible, as quickly as possible. “You know where I come from, don’t you красивая девушка?” 

The stickiness of her bright wine colored lipstick pulls at the thin skin along your ear, leaving remencance of the stain. You can feel the exhaustion in your bones, the ginger’s actions of the night catching up already. Nodding, you can’t even bring yourself to say anything. She’s humming, prompting you. “I-I know a lot ab-bout you.” Voice hoarse, stuttering and falling over syllables, you try your hardest to listen to her. 

She laughs, it’s silent but shakes her chest as she leans heavily against you. Tapping the barrel of the gun against your cheek, “Right my precious little fan. You know all about me. Well don’t worry darling, all that precious information stored in your brain will come in handy.” The widow shoves you forward, pulling and pushing your body as she flips you onto you back. 

Natasha settles comfortably between your legs, swinging the fun around her pointer finger as she coos over you. She sits back and observes you, head tilting as you squirm below her. Running your thumb along your dripping slit, she can’t help but admire the string of wetness that catches and dangles as she pulls away. 

You try to shake your head, no matter her experience you didn’t want to shamelessly gamble your life for a night with the spy. She just giggles, like a schoolgirl. “All you have to do is tell me what you know about me, lyubov'. That’s all. I know that pretty little head is filled with who I am and all the little facts you know about me, so this should be simple. Say a fact and you’re safe, and get played with. Say something false, and I pull the trigger. Who knows though, maybe you’ll enjoy that too.” She looks so innocent as she talks down to you, but you can’t focus on her tone right now. 

Chest heaving, you watch her with wide eyes as the previously forgotten fear reignites as the older woman precariously plays with the gun. A sadistic grin stretches her face, pulling her cheeks just a bit too much. “Dontcha wanna play with me, detka?” Tapping the bottom of the grip on your lower belly, Natasha smirks. Your head is shaking vigorously, pathetic whimpers tumbling from your mouth. Your fist swings out again, a pitiful attempt at hitting the ginger one last time. Struggling as your hand hits that invisible wall again, she just slowly lowers it down to the bed. “Too bad you don’t have a choice.” 

Her calloused thumb swipes at your throbbing clit, smiling as your hips jump trying to chase after the spark of pleasure. She shushes you, smoothing her hand across your lower belly. Her gaze flickers up to watch your reactions, jade peaking through lashes as she taps the muzzle against your puffy red cunt. Natasha makes a noise, your only chance at a warning before she’s shoving the barrel of her gun into you. Watching you stretch, raw and red, around the cold smooth metal she has to bite her lip to suppress her own reactions. 

The moan that tumbles from your lips is involuntary, and the sounds only get worse as she forcibly ruts her beloved weapon into you. “First fact, princess.” When you just wither beneath her, too focused on your own arousal, she cocks the gun. The click ringing out, a stark contrast to your mewls. “Don’t keep me waiting, dove. It’s rude and my patience wears thin.” 

You stutter through the first couple facts, all things the public knows of. The most common facts that cannot be disputable; her alias, her training and community upbringing, and her status within the government as an Avenger. It wasn’t until she rubs your clit, dragging the wetness across your skin, that your mind swirls again. Broken gasps you mumble out, “You killed the overseer of the Red Room”.  

The ginger laughs, a short gleeful thing, as she shakes her head. “Poor baby, your head is already so foggy and the game has just begun.” You hear the menacing sound of the gun click, stalling, as she pulls the trigger for the first time. Even as the fear rings through your skull, sinking into your bones, you can’t help but the wetness that drips out of you and the way you clench around the slowly warming steel. A breathy please falls from your lips, and you aren’t exactly sure what you’re pleading for. 

A second wrong fact tumbles from your lips, jumbled and almost incomprehensible, as you beg the widow for mercy. Nothing you say deters her, even as you correct your previous statement. You knew that she didn’t go to kill Tony, just to see if he was dying but in your haze you said the wrong thing. Apologies and sobs wracking your body as you try to take back your mistake, but she’s pulling the trigger before you can stop her. Your hands are gripping your wrist but your fingers won’t move no matter how much you try to claw at her skin, a measly attempt to pry her away from you. 

Natasha shoves the barrel roughly into you, a piercing pain shoots through your body as she mumbles for you to continue. Her eyes trained at your body, it’s almost like this is mindless for her not even breaking a sweat. It’s almost like she’s angry at the fact that the bullet and chamber have yet to align. “You w-wear the arr-ow for Cl-lint.” Stuttered though true, your fact makes her chuckle. The green eyed woman just thrusts into you harder, dragging you closer to the edge. 

Through hooded eyes you watch her, eyes flickering back and forth between the way her bicep tenses and how the vein in her neck pulses. Distracted you stutter on your next fact, “Y-y um dance um ta–”. Even though you never finish your sentence, the sight of the gun rubbing against the most sensitive part inside of you, the assassin knows you were going to mess up. The longer she’s moving inside you, the harder you find talking and thinking. It terrifies you how much you like the feeling of the steel inside you, how you drip around the cylinder. 

The coil in your stomach cracks when you hear the widow cock the gun, body twitching when she pulls the trigger again. She has you dangling over the edge, almost like you were on a string. Dragging her nails down your thigh, leaving bright red streaks and a burning sensation. Her actions are almost teasing, toying with you as you squirm and moan under her. 

Natasha’s voice is soft, almost comforting, as she stares down at you. Her eyes almost soft, nurturing, as she fucks her gun into your sore cunt. “Such a desperate little whore, I can barely move my gun from how tight you are.” Reaching up to cup your breast, she pinches your hardened nipple ruthlessly. Tugging at it until your back arches, trying to relieve some of the pain. 

It’s a spreading warmth, stinging, as the redness explodes across the goosebump covered swell. Your brain can’t keep up, swirls of pain and arousal clouding all your thoughts. “Give me another one, now.” Hissing, her voice strikes in your bones. A shiver running down your spine as you try to keep your orgasm at bay. A small part of you still wanted to be defiant, to try and fight in the only way you can. You knew you couldn’t physically do anything to hurt her, but you could take hits at her ego. 

The longer you delay the inevitable, whimpers and whines filling the air as you focus solely on the pleasure, the angrier the ginger gets. She’s jamming the gun harder into you, her muscles flexing with each push. Forcing your breath and your heart beat to stutter, jumping along with the force of her ruts. “Play my game, you worthless whore. Play or I’ll play without you.” Wrapping her hand around your throat, she hovers over you. 

Her weight is almost completely on your neck as she looks down at you. You babble panickedly, wheezing as you try to fight for your life. Unsure of the words you even say, you thrash violently at the clicking of the gun. Legs flailing, kicking helplessly at air, as your body goes into full fight or flight mode. Throat raw as you scream, the shrill sound cut short as Natasha slams you down. 

“No matter how much you fight, princess, you can’t deny the way you're teetering. Barely clinging to the edge. You’re not going to last much longer, so why must you fight me?” Clenching, each word she speaks to you wears the rope you’re hanging from thin and dropping you farther and farther over the edge. She pulls the trigger again, pulling the hammer down immediately to pull the trigger once more. “Looks like you only have one more chance, little dove.” 

Your entire body is shaking, and you can barely understand a word she says. The overwhelming weight of the barrel inside of you is the only thing you can focus on, the pull of the smooth metal as it thrusts. It’s no longer cool, your temperature heating it up. Whining you try to get her to understand your frustration, the way she’s clouding your judgment and stripping you of your ability to coherently speak. 

It doesn’t matter anymore as the rope falls apart and you slip over the edge. She struggles to keep the barrel inside of you, the force of your orgasm not only shaking your entire body but the gush of wetness escaping you is even stronger. The way she moves doesn’t slow, if anything she puts her entire body into how she jams the firearm into you. Her fingers grip your jaw, clawing until your mouth falls open. Your moans are garbled, drool and spit filling your mouth unable to escape except for a few drops leaking down your flushed cheek. 

The ginger pulls the gun from your leaking cunt, pulling your body to let your center lay flush against her thigh. Your hips are grinding before she can even demand you to move, chasing the high that you’re on. Natasha leans back, rolling her eyes as she watches you hump her leg. “You’re fucking disgusting.” Wiping her gun along your torso, your slick is cool against your heated skin. You’re entirely too lost in your pleasure, heavy eyes blurry as they try to watch the woman above you. 

It’s the exact moment that your body finally settles, muscles gently vibrating with the aftershocks of your waning orgasm, that you see the widow’s arms move quickly. Cocking the gun you can see up the sight just for a moment, before she pulls the trigger. The bullet is loud as it pierces the mattress next to your head, fluff and fabric exploding. It makes the blood in your veins run cold and the high you were on plummet back down to Earth. 

Fuzzy brain, clearing slowly, you stare wide eyed up at Natasha. “Y-You were actually going to shoot me?” You can’t stop stuttering, gasping, as you realize how close to death you truly were. The shaking is back with a vengeance, almost like your entire body is plugged in. This entire time you believed that it was all just a game, a thing for the Avenger to scare you with so that you would be more open to having sex with her. 

The Avenger smiles, cupping your cheek and smoothing her thumb over the flush she finds there. She licks the cooling metal, humming at the taste she finds there before letting the gun fall heavy on the sheets. “And yet, my darling, your body is still shaking and aching for my touch.” When your hips try to move against her body, she shakes head. “Nuh uh, you’re done for the day. I can’t push you too much.” She’s shifting to sit next to your collapsed body, ignoring the pathetic whimpering falling uncontrollably from your mouth. 

You are struggling to breathe properly, heavy pants filling the air as the two of you sit silently on the bed. She’s gently pushing your matted hair away from your sweaty forehead, and wiping away the stream of tears you weren’t even aware you were crying. Natasha lets all the emotions that you are feeling to be let out, the entire thing overwhelming you but she doesn’t want you to completely shut down after just one play session. 

The quiet doesn’t last long, the widow pushing your body to sit up. Your entire body feels weak, unstable, as you sway in your spot. She’s the only grounding factor you have in the moment, and you hate how pitiful you seem. Natasha is trying to get you to move faster, shoving at you, urging you to move faster so that she can strip the bed. You try to tell her that you can’t feel your body, that everything is just too much, but it doesn’t matter and you can see the seething anger. 

Looking down at you, her hand is fisted in the sheets where she’s trying to clean up. “Stop being a worthless bitch, and move out of my way.” Her free hand tangles in your hair, throwing you off the bed. You lay, crumpled in a ball, at her feet. Not daring to move as she rips the bedding from the mattress. “I’m trying to clean up after you, and you can’t even be considerate enough to move out of the way.” 

Her angry words cut deep, but she’s reaching out to you and scooping you up. It’s soft and gentle as she carries you to the bathroom. The ginger spends an immense amount of time cooing over you as she gets the water warm. Rubbing your sore muscles and softly detangling your hair, kissing all over your face each time she tugs a bit too harshly.

You basically swoon as you stand in the steaming shower, Natasha gently washing your body. Her hands running along your body makes your mind swim, quiet moans under your breath each time she randomly teases you. Leaning up against the cold tile wall as you watch her get shampoo, getting ready to wash your hair, you have to keep a grip on the shelf to keep standing. Your legs are sore and still shaky, even your body still feels weak. 

When the ginger turns around to wash your hair, she sees you leaning heavily against the wall with your eyes closed. Tying to take a few deep breaths, she tries to calm down but she can’t help the searing anger. Dropping the glob of shampoo in her hand she grips your chin, and spins your body around. It’s all too quick and the slick floor makes you slip entirely too easily. You can’t even understand what she’s hissing into your ear, bitter and heated. 

She’s shoving your face into the stream of water, uncaring as you choke and thrash about. Her voice, whispering directly into your ear, makes you freeze as it sinks into your bones. “Such a dumb little girl, how would you ever survive without me? Hmmm?” You aren’t sure how long you’re swallowing and gagging on water, spilling over your lips. You had given up, ready to let your lungs fill with water when she shoves you against the wall. “I don’t want to hurt you, dorogoya. I really don’t but someone has to keep you in your place. Don’t they?” She chuckles, low and heavy, when she sees you mindlessly nod. 

You can feel your body being thrown around, limp, as she moves you where she wants you. Brain struggling to do anything but answer the older woman whenever she asks you a question, it’s almost as if whatever she did to you put you into autopilot. 

Sinking into the warm dry sheets, you finally feel your body relaxing when she sets you in bed. Curled up in her arms, you listen to her heartbeat and her humming as you try to fall asleep. The ginger even sings to you, a Russian lullaby, to try and help you fall asleep. Nothing helps and maybe it’s the suppressed fear that lies deep within your gut, but you can tell just by how her breathing changes that it’s starting to anger her. 

The hand that was once running along your back, a soothing motion, wraps tightly around your throat as she shoves you into the bed. Her body, once again, is looming over you. The forest green eyes are dark, almost a midnight black, as she stares down at you. Her grip on your throat tightens, and a sadistic smile stretches across her face. Your vision is blurry and the moment you try to claw at her arm, she catches both your hands in one. Pinning them above your head, her entire weight is leaning on your wrists and throat. “Poor baby can’t fall asleep?” A mockingly sweet noise falls from her pursed lips. “Well don’t you worry, I’m here to always make sure you can sleep. Even if you can’t do the most simple of things for yourself, I’ll be here to make it all better.” 

You’re panicking as your lungs scream for oxygen, and black starts to border your already foggy vision. “I mean think about it, even with your stupid little brain you must realize that no one else will want to deal with you. No one else will love you the way I do.” She’s smiling at you, even as her fingers tighten around your throat. The pressure is crushing your windpipe, and you’re slipping into unconsciousness as you’re forced to just look up at the ginger. “I’ll make you better. I’ll mold you into my perfect little dove. I’ll keep you around and then you won’t be useless anymore, doesn’t that sound perfect?”  

She forces your head to just barely nod, and she gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead as she watches your eyes flutter closed. “Goodnight my love, sleep tight. I’ll fight off any nightmares that dare interrupt your sleep.”

you have gross perverted thoughts about me?? that's so sweet

hello everyone! i’m writing fics and taking requests so if you have any please feel free to ask, i write for marvel only. thank you!

Repeat after me // mafia!stucky x fem!reader

Summary: It wasn’t often that you had to attend a party with your boyfriends but today, you found yourself at one, filling you with anxiety and dread. How will the boys react when they find you close to a panic attack and starting to doubt their love for you?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, dom bucky, dom steve rogers, submissive reader, roughsex, multiple orgasms, creampie, spanking, subspace, overstimulation, sir kink, size difference, size kink, aftercare, masturbation (male), handjob, praise kink, anxiety attack, angst

Word: 4.7k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Keep reading