#Dark!Bucky

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 20

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Dark, Mystery, Betrayal.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

"Still acting cocky in front of me?" you said, arms crossed as you gave her a slow, deliberate once-over. "I'll give you that."

She was wearing the arcade's staff uniform—cheap polyester, name tag slightly crooked. So, after getting fired from the hotel, this was where she ended up. Fitting.

Natasha rolled her eyes. This had to be the worst first day imaginable. Working at the town’s run-down arcade—where most of the employees were disinterested part-timers—and now, getting summoned by you. Jake’s vague text hadn’t helped either. Just “She wants to meet. Arcade.” As if the universe hadn’t humiliated her enough already.

“How may I help you?” she asked flatly, voice dipped in sarcasm, jaw clenched.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” you smirked, tilting your head. It was delicious watching her swallow her pride.

She scoffed. “Yes. Miss 'I-Made-It-Better-Than-All-Of-Us’. Why are you even talking to me?”

You stepped a little closer, lowering your voice. “Because I need an answer.”

Natasha lifted her chin, suspicious. “And you think you’ll get that from me?”

“No,” you admitted. “Not without incentive. That’s why I’m offering you a deal.”

Her arms folded across her chest, nails digging into her sleeves. “Like Steve did?”

Your brows rose, slightly caught off guard.

“Still don’t get it,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Why help people who made your life miserable?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, your gaze drifted to the flickering neon lights reflecting off the arcade floor. The air smelled of popcorn and old coin machines. You thought of what Ransom once told you during a corporate negotiation: Keep your enemies close. And make them owe you.

There’s nothing free in life.

“That’s the difference between us,” you said finally, locking eyes with her. “I don’t go out of my way to ruin the lives of people I don’t like.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. You could tell she wanted to fire back—but she couldn’t. Not when you were right. Her silence said more than a comeback ever could.

You reached into your coat and pulled out a single envelope. Slender. Crisp.

You held it between two fingers, just out of her reach. “It’s a reference. For the magazine editor in New York.”

That got her attention. Her posture straightened. Her eyes followed the envelope like a hawk. Especially after she read the marked with the unmistakable letterhead of Vogue.

“But after this, you’re on your own.” You extended the letter slowly. She reached for it with no hesitation, snatching it like it might disappear. The hunger in her expression said everything.

A rare, genuine smile curled on her lips. “Anything to get me out of this town.”

Then the smile vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced with a guarded glare. She tucked the letter into her jacket pocket. “Alright. What do you want to know?”

“What happened when you were in Paris?”

The question hit her like a slap. Natasha’s eyes widened. “How—how do you know?” Her voice trembled, her guard slipping for a moment. But then her face twisted in realization. “Jake. That blabbermouth.”

She exhaled sharply, leaning against the old Pac-Man machine. The soft, flickering lights of the arcade reflected off her tired eyes as she stared up at the ceiling.

“I still remember every detail,” she murmured. “Every photoshoot. Every casting call. At first, it was everything I dreamed of. But when things start going too well—there’s usually something rotten beneath it.”

Her voice darkened.

“Wrong time, wrong place,” she said. “I didn’t know that photographer had ties to human trafficking. I just followed my senior a couple of times—she invited me to some yacht parties. Thought it was glamorous. The kind of life you see in magazines. Then one morning, Interpol raided the model apartment I was staying in. They dragged me in for questioning.”

She looked away, biting the inside of her cheek. “After that, I got blacklisted. No agencies, no callbacks. Just silence.”

You felt something crawl under your skin. A cold, uneasy chill. You didn’t like Natasha—but no one deserved that.

“You were framed,” you said softly.

Natasha looked at you. Really looked at you. As if she didn’t expect you to understand—let alone care.

She laughed once, bitter and hollow. “Yeah. Meanwhile, the real yacht girl—my senior? She’s thriving. Still modeling. Still flying private. Guess what? That same yacht we partied on? It’s hers now.” She shook her head slowly.

There was a pause.

“I should’ve listened to Bucky when he told me to come home.”

Your head tilted slightly. “Wait… he visited you?”

She nodded, arms crossed now, as if hugging herself.

“Half the reason I chose Europe was because of him,” she admitted. “After graduation, he studied abroad. I thought… maybe if I did the same, I’d understand what pulled him away. He warned me, though. Told me to come back.”

“He asked you to quit modeling?” you asked.

She gave a shrug, one shoulder rising lazily. “Not in so many words. Just said, ‘No matter what you think you’re running from, it’s always safer near home.’”

Her eyes dropped to the floor.

You swallowed. Hard.

That unease in your chest tightened. The chill from earlier turned into something heavier. A realization. What happened to Natasha… it felt too familiar. Too orchestrated. The same kind of sabotage that happened to Steve.

First, they leave this town with dreams in their eyes. Then somehow, everything falls apart—one scandal, one disaster, one twisted coincidence after another. And every time… they end up back here. Back under the thumb of someone who always seems a step ahead.

Bucky.

A shiver slid down your spine.

What if Bucky doesn’t just wait for people to come back? What if he makes sure they do?

You didn’t say it out loud—but the thought clung to you like smoke.

“Grateful that he got me a job at his hotel,” Natasha muttered, snapping you out of your thoughts. “But fuck his mom. That just made things worse. Being stuck between the two of them…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “They hate each other.”

“Isn’t that obvious?” you said quietly.

Natasha gave a crooked smile. But then her expression darkened again.

“Oh, you really don’t know,” she said. “After you left—even before prom night—he changed. Completely. Like something snapped in him.”

She paused, glancing around as if afraid someone might overhear.

“He blamed Linda for everything.”

Silence followed, heavy and sharp.

“He’s changed.”

Her voice was quieter now. Like she wasn’t sure if she was warning you or herself.

“After you left…”

“No. Even before you left,” Natasha said, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “I could tell. The way his eyes followed you—everywhere you went. He never admitted it, of course. But I asked him. God, I asked him so many times when we were still together.”

She leaned her back against the arcade machine, her fingers tracing the edge of the worn glass as if trying to ground herself in the past.

Back then, she and Bucky were the golden couple. The cheer captain and the quarterback. Perfect on paper. Untouchable in the yearbook.

But now imagine this:

The quarterback secretly pining for the nerdiest student in school—the same one he let his friends mock for years. The same one he’d never openly defend. Cliché. Tragic. And Natasha? She wasn’t about to give up her crown for someone he couldn’t even admit he liked.

So she played along. Pretended not to notice. Pretended he wasn’t looking past her, always.

“It got worse when Ransom transferred,” she continued. Her voice dipped slightly, eyes narrowing at the memory. “The way you two got close—it drove Bucky mad. He kept running his mouth about Ransom. Talking trash about ‘the rich city kid.’ But that’s all he did—talk. He never laid a finger on him.”

She paused, looking at you as if testing how much truth you could handle.

“That’s the difference between me and Bucky,” she said. “I fight for what I want. Bucky just broods in the dark, hoping fate does the dirty work for him.”

A beat of silence.

“Something snapped in him,” she finally said. “The day the whole class found out you graduated early. That you left town with Ransom.”

She exhaled, slow and sharp. “After that, Bucky quit the group. Didn’t come to prom. I had to go with Thor instead.”

You blinked. “Then what happened?”

“We all started drifting. Different paths, different cities,” she said quietly. “But when things got bad… he found us. When we had nothing left—he showed up.”

“We?” you echoed.

Natasha nodded. “Me and Jake. We were broke, barely getting by. Bucky offered us jobs at the hotel.” She shrugged, as if trying to make it sound casual. But the tension in her jaw betrayed her unease.

“What about Thor?”

Natasha let out a small, knowing laugh. “Thor? Don’t worry about him. He’s taken care of. Turns out the mayor secured his future.”

Your brows knit together. “The mayor?”

She smirked. “Oh, you really don’t know, do you? You’re the last to find out—Thor is the mayor’s illegitimate son.”

Your stomach dropped. You stared at her, stunned, like she’d just told you the moon was fake.

“That’s why Thor doesn’t work at the hotel,” she went on. “He prefers cars. Always has. But don’t let that fool you—he’s Bucky’s right hand. Loyal in ways that don’t make sense anymore.”

Then she stepped closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. “Don’t tell anyone… but I saw Thor driving Dr. Stark to the new hospital site last week.”

Your blood went cold.

Thor. Driving.

And suddenly you were back in that moment—the twisted wreckage. The flashing lights. Steve’s car accident.

No. Not an accident.

A setup. A message. A warning.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I… I have to go.”

Your voice was shaky, but you didn’t wait for a response. You turned and bolted from the arcade, the door swinging wide behind you. The cold night air slapped your face, sharp and real.

Natasha didn’t follow. She stood there, stunned, one hand still resting on the Pac-Man machine, blinking like she couldn’t believe what had just happened. She received a way out from you. Damn, karma has a way of making her life more miserable.

Outside, the air felt colder than it had a moment ago. Sharp against your skin. The kind of cold that crept into your chest and made it hard to breathe.

You rushed to your car, hands shaking as you unlocked it. Slamming the door shut, you locked it immediately and gripped the steering wheel. For a moment, you sat there, staring out through the windshield.

You were scared. Not just shaken. Scared.

Then you started the engine and drove—fast. All you knew was that you needed to get out of that town. Now.

The tires hummed on the cracked road as the lights of the town blurred behind you. Trees whipped past on either side of the narrow highway. You gripped the wheel tighter, your breath uneven.

Then—

POP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Your car jolted. The steering wheel lurched in your hands. The sound of dragging rubber and metal filled your ears.

“No. No. No. No.” You pulled over, slammed the brakes, and threw open the door.

You stepped out, heart pounding.

Flat tire. No—two. Both on the driver's side.

You stared at the car like it had betrayed you, then screamed into the night:

“What the fuck is this timing!?”

The sound echoed across the empty road. You wanted to scream again. Cry. Throw something.

Instead, you fumbled for your phone. Your thumb hovered over the screen, then tapped Jake’s name.

“Jake, pick up. Please pick up—”

The phone rang once. Then again.

“Y/N?” his voice came through, groggy, confused. “What’s going on? Are you okay—?”

But then you heard it.

A low hum. Headlights.

A car was slowing down behind you. You turned slowly, dread pooling in your stomach. A cold shiver ran down your spine. Your skin prickled.

The car stopped a few feet behind yours. The lights turned off.

Then the doors opened.

Bucky stepped out of the driver's side, calm as ever, hands tucked in his coat pockets. Thor came out on the other side, his tall frame towering behind him, arms crossed casually like this was nothing.

You froze. Your back went rigid. The phone was still at your ear but you couldn’t speak. Your breath stilled. You felt like you might throw up.

This was it. Your fear made real.

Bucky gave you a small, almost apologetic smile.

“Hey,” he said gently, like this was just a coincidence. “I got worried you weren’t coming back to the hotel. So… me and Thor took a little drive. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

His voice was warm. Too warm. Like honey over glass shards.

He looked like he’d found you at the perfect time.

Too perfect.

‘How did he find me so soon… unless he was already following me?’ you thought. Your heart dropped.

This man.

You couldn't run from him. Not easily.

“Hello? Y/N? You there?” Jake’s voice crackled on the line, snapping you back into reality.

Without looking down, you slowly pressed end call. Jake’s voice faded, but it reminded you of one thing:

You weren’t alone. Not completely.

You took a slow breath, then gave Bucky a tight smile. One that didn’t reach your eyes.

Fine. You’d play along. For now.

But inside, your mind was already racing—planning your next escape.

Because you knew now.

You were being hunted.

Join the tag list? 🩷💙🩷

@winterslove1917

@thezombieprostitute

@namoreno

@sagebarness

@tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden

@unaxv

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@hopeful-daydreaming

@freshlemontea

@eat-limes-bitches

@kandis-mom

@scott-loki-barnes

@winters1917

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@arunabraganza

@ordelixx

@esposadomd

@sapphirebarnes

@cjand10

@bellabarnes1378

@thetravelingtyper

@buckitostan

@mostlymarvelgirl

@5upersoldiers1xt

@jjanereid

@cakesandtom

@queen2234

@learisa

@springsheep

@mrsstuckyboo

@read-just-cant

@loki-laufeyson68

@anixerz

@ghalouha

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

@emerald-writes

@mcira

@barnesxstan

@bxtchboy69

@lokislady82

@mrsnikstan

@calwitch

@thedonswife13

@calwitch

@otterlycanadian

@bonkybarnes106

@tinkrogers

@chimchoom

@winchestert101

@raajali3

[bucksangel]

run little bunny

pairing: softdark!ceo!bucky x naive!assistant!reader

word count: 8.6k

summary: Being John Walker’s assistant is hard; he’s mean, disrespectful, misogynistic, the whole nine yards. On top of that, he hardly pays you fairly. So, when you’re fired for a mistake you’re sure wasn’t your fault, you’re at risk of being kicked out by your rude roommates. Luckily for you, James Barnes, a wildly successful CEO, has found his way into your life. And he’s going to take such good care of you.

warnings: where do i even start, 18+, minors DNI and i fucking mean it, mild coercion, some of it could be interpreted as stalking, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, sir kink, oral (f receiving), housewife kink, breeding kink, pet names (bunny, darling), dirty talk, dom!bucky and sub!reader, choking, squirting, basically just absolute filth, a little hurt-comfort, reader’s roommates are awful and mean, not john walker friendly but when am i ever

a/n: so this was supposed to just be some quick smut but as always i went overboard, so please enjoy! likes and comments are appreciated, reblogs are even better!

tip jar | main masterlist | ao3 | run little bunny masterlist

Your hands are shaking slightly, your heartbeat races with anxiety, and your leg bounces rapidly. Today is an important day after all, and your boss has made it clear that if you mess up in any way then he’d have to rethink your employment. That sent dread flooding through your body, so you’ve been preparing yourself for the last week to make sure everything for the meeting is perfect.

And, on the technical side, everything is immaculate - mostly due to you staying up until almost midnight each night to polish the presentation. You thought everything was done properly, but when you’d walked into the building that morning your boss was holed up in his office finishing up his portion of the work, so you’d decided to simply email him to let him know that you had arrived.

Everything was perfect. But when you get into the meeting room, your boss’ eyes go wide, anger clouding them while he scowls. You quickly make your way to his side, only for him to bark out a command for you to grab water for his incoming guests. Placing your notebook on the table, you turn to scurry off to the side to grab the glasses, but you’re stopped when your boss grabs your arm harshly.

“Do you have a change of clothes?”

“Um… Um, I-“ Your boss raises an eyebrow, and you feel like you might throw up from the sudden anxiety. “No, sir.”

He scoffs, muttering under his breath something about looking “trashy,” before releasing you and allowing you to go to the minibar.

Your arm stings, no doubt sporting a red mark because of how harsh the grip was. You’re also confused because you thought the floral dress you’d chosen was pretty. Sure, it may not be high class, but your boss has never had a problem with it before, but you’re assuming that he’s on edge due to who he’s meeting with.

James Barnes; the most powerful and successful CEO in the entire country. You haven’t met him personally, but from what you hear you know that he’s not someone you want to upset. According to the hushed whispers around the office, he stands at a towering 6’6, tattoos cover his arms and hands, and if he frowns then you better move out of the way.

Would Mr. Barnes be upset with your attire?

You desperately hope not, because you need this job. While you can barely make your rent and utilities, you don’t have any other job lined up, and you’re way too scared to ask for a raise from a man who so clearly disrespects you. For right now, though, you’re stuck.

The oak doors open, and one of the office assistants steps off to the side while holding the door open for several men to walk in. You hear him before you see him. You’ve never heard his voice, but the commanding tone he uses when he addresses your boss lets you know that it must be him.

“Hello, Mr. Walker,” Mr. Barnes greets him, and you can hear your boss stand and greet him as well.

You’re trying your hardest to keep calm while you walk toward the table with a platter holding several glasses of water. You do your best to place them in front of the men without showing how nervous you are.

But when you get to Mr. Barnes, you nearly spill the drink all over the table once you get a whiff of his clearly expensive cologne. Oh, how you’d love to be surrounded by that scent, the woodsy smell almost intimidates you but you’re unsure as to why you don’t mind.

You’ve never done anything even remotely sexual with a man, you’re far too awkward and anxious in a way that isn’t too appealing to many, but for a very brief moment, you wonder what he looks like underneath the black three-piece suit — the prominent veins on his hands insinuates that the rest of his body is probably just as toned. But you’re immediately snapped out of your thoughts by your boss’ harsh voice calling your name.

“Aren’t you going to greet our guests?”

You breathe in sharply, heat flooding your face as you stumble your way through an apology and a polite “Hello, Mr. Barnes.”

You’re about to leave his side when he reaches out to grasp your hand — surprisingly gentle for such a powerful man. With a slight jump, you glance over to your boss who’s staring at you as though you’re becoming a nuisance and should quickly get back to your chair beside his. But you can’t, both because of Mr. Barnes’ hold and the fact that when you look back at the man in front of you his ocean-blue eyes pull you in, and you’re unable to break your gaze.

“And who might you be, darling?” His eyes twinkle with mischief but you’re too blind to see it, you’re too flustered to really focus.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about her, she’s just –”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Mr. Barnes snaps, briefly glancing at your boss and not bothering to hide his smirk when he almost visibly cowers. “Now, darling,” he continues, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “What’s your name?”

You nearly squeak, having to force yourself to tell him your name before he gets upset with your lack of answer.

Mr. Barnes hums, then brings your hand up so he can place a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You flounder for a moment, unsure as to what to make of the compliment. You don’t have much time to overthink it because this meeting has a time limit and you’re sure your boss would prefer to get this over with.

“Th-Thank you, sir.” You’re not sure why, but your voice is breathy because something about that word — sir — just feels right for him, though you’re not sure what it means.

“So polite,” He mumbles to himself, and his eyes seem to grow darker. Finally, he lets you go, shooting you a wink and smirking to himself when you scurry off to sit next to your boss.

The presentation went relatively smoothly — thank God. You don’t know what you would have done if anything went wrong. In fact, Mr. Barnes seemed extremely invested in what you had to say, catching your gaze several times and causing you to stumble over your words a few times, only for your boss to clear his throat and glare at you. Eventually, Mr. Barnes throws him his own glare, silently telling him to shut up, to which your boss finally does.

Once the meeting was declared to be over, you were quick to close your notebook and tuck your pen behind your ear, then you went around the table and started collecting the now-empty glasses. As you’re running around the room trying to clean up, you can feel a powerful gaze boring holes into your body, but you try not to pay it any mind. It’s probably just your boss anyway.

But when you turn away from the desk to finally leave, you bump into Mr. Barnes, your body nearly slamming into his very sturdy chest. His hands shoot to your hips almost immediately, helping to steady yourself.

The warmth of his body pulls you in, but that might also be because Mr. Barnes is literally bringing you closer to his chest by the hold he has on your hips. And that’s when you realize that your hands are clutching his shoulders, but you can’t find it in you to let go.

“What’s the rush?” He asks playfully, his upper lip quirking up in a smirk. “You’re running around like a little bunny.”

“Oh, oh I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes.” You’re not sure why you’re apologizing, you recognize that he’s just teasing, but something in you doesn’t want to disappoint him. 

“Mr. Barnes.” He hums, his eyes briefly glancing down to your lips. “I like it when you call me that.”

Now you’re really flustered, your face heats up and you have to do everything in your power not to faint — the way his voice deepens is doing something to you and you don’t know how to handle it.

“I’d like it a lot more if you called me James, though. Can you do that for me, bunny?” 

“Ye-Yes, James.” You might have been embarrassed about how quick you were to answer him, but the way he closes his eyes and tightens the hold he has on your body you’re thinking it was the right decision.

Mr. Barnes — James — opens his mouth again, but is interrupted by the door being opened by one of the office assistants, whose eyes immediately go wide in shock. It seems to take a second for her to gather her bearings, but she recovers soon enough.

“Mr. Walker is requesting you,” She tells you, glancing over at James and giving him a nervous smile. “He says you have to file all of the paperwork for the meeting.”

You sigh, you’re tired of having to do everything for your boss only for him to take credit ninety percent of the time. But, it’s what you’re paid to do, so you suck it up. 

Looking back to James, you give him a shy smile, reluctantly removing your hands from his shoulders. 

“Um, I guess I should go, James.” You’re a little sad, and you don’t quite know why having to leave him and go back to your duties makes you so anxious. It could be because Mr. Walker is mean, or maybe because James makes you feel safe. In reality, it’s probably a mixture of both.

“I guess you should,” He murmurs, removing one of his large hands from your waist so he can cup the back of your neck and pull you closer, only for him to press a lingering kiss on your forehead.

And absolutely no one can blame you for the quiet whimper that leaves your lips, even though you are surprised by your reaction. It doesn’t matter though, because he finally moves back, letting go of you and reaching into the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket so he can pull out what looks like a business card.

“Here,” James says, handing it to you. “In case you ever want to talk, you’re always free to call me.”

“What would we talk about?” Your confusion causes James to chuckle, and he seems amused by your naivety.

“Whatever you want, Bunny. Whether you just want to talk about nonsense or vent about your boss. Doesn’t matter to me as long as I get to hear your beautiful voice.”

With that, he gives you a wink, then turns to the door and leaves, though he does glance back at you. With one final smile, he leaves, and you’re left with a million racing thoughts while standing in the middle of the meeting room.

It took three days for you to finally reach out to James. As soon as you got home that night you ran to your bedroom and added his number to your phone, going so far as to put his business card in your bedside table drawer so you wouldn’t lose it. It just took a little time to gain the courage to actually contact him. After all, what if he was just being friendly? You’ve never met anyone quite like him, so it’s hard to read into his actions.

But today had gone horribly. The café you frequent before work was so busy that you didn’t have time to grab your coffee without being extremely late, the bistro you were demanded to pick up lunch from was closed — and while it wasn’t your fault, Mr. Walker certainly seemed to think it was. Your workload was piled high and by the end of the day, you were on the verge of crying due to the stress and mean comments thrown at you by your boss.

You need a shoulder to lean on and, unfortunately for you, you don’t have anyone else to go to. You’re pretty sure your roommates hate you and only let you live with them because they haven’t found a new roommate yet, you don’t have siblings and your parents are states away, and you have maybe a few friends, but even then the communication is scarce.

You need a shoulder to lean on, and James offered his, so you finally decided to pull up his contact and start a new message. It takes several minutes to figure out what to say, but you eventually settle on something simple.

Hi, James. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Mr. Walker’s assistant. You gave me your number in case I ever wanted to talk.

You hit send and stare down at your phone anxiously as you wait for a reply. A minute goes by, then two, suddenly five, and then you’re starting to regret texting him, what if he doesn’t remember you? What if he’s busy? What if – 

Your phone starts ringing, James’ name popping up on the screen and taunting you — almost commanding you to answer.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, bunny,” James says softly, and if you press your ear close enough to your phone you could pretend that he’s right next to you.

“Hi, James. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Your voice is soft and timid, you’d hate to disrupt anything he’s doing.

“Don’t be silly, bunny,” He says, his smile evident in his tone. “I always have time for you.”

“Oh, um. Thank you, sir.” It’s almost indescribable, but you can just make out the soft curse James lets out, followed by some shuffling.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

You’re a little apprehensive, but with James’ gentle encouragement, you’re able to get everything off your chest, complaining about your day and everything that went wrong. Each word spoken feels like weights lifting off of your shoulders, allowing you to breathe easier every time James hums. He doesn’t interrupt you, which you greatly appreciate, and by the time you’re done, you fall backward onto your bed, relieved.

“I’m sorry you had such a bad day, bunny,” James coos with his smooth-as-honey voice, filling your body with warmth and comfort. “A pretty girl like you doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.” That comment floods your face with heat and you shuffle up the bed to lean against the headboard.

“Oh, I - thank you, sir.” There it is again, sir. James exhales slowly as though he’s trying to control himself from doing something he shouldn’t, and part of you is momentarily worried that you’ve upset him somehow. You don’t want to disappoint him.

“What can I do to help?”

What can he do to help? You’re not quite sure, you’re not sad, and you’re not angry, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t need at least a hug right now. But, it would be too imposing to ask, right? There’s no way he would be willing to come over – that is, if your roommates would even allow him over. And he certainly wouldn’t invite a stranger into his house. So, you lie to him.

“Oh – Oh, no, James, I don’t – you don’t have to – it’s fine –”

“Bunny.”

Your mouth promptly closes, taking a deep breath through your nose and exhaling slowly.

“Sorry, James.”

“Don’t be sorry, bunny.” There’s some shuffling in the background as he talks and you can’t help but sigh at how sincere his voice is. “Now, what can I do to help?” And before you can even open your mouth he’s talking again, “Don’t say nothing, because I know there’s something you want.”

You’re silent for a moment, stewing over how to tell him. But, he’ll probably just be empathetic and say something along the lines of ‘I’d hug you if I were there right now’. So, you decide to just spit it out.

“I guess I just want… I just need a hug, I think,” You sigh, feeling a sudden sense of loneliness. It’s hard not having anyone to talk to, to be isolated even from the people you live with, to be put down time and time again, and not have anyone to support you.

“Where are you?” James asks, and you hear some more shuffling in the background, followed by the jingling of what sounds like keys.

“I’m at my apartment,” You say, confused. He couldn’t possibly be coming over, could he?

“Send me your address and I’ll come pick you up, we’ll go out for ice cream,” James says decisively, and you can tell he doesn’t want any protesting. “Bunny,” He says when you don’t say anything. “You need cheering up and I’m here to do just that. Please send me your address.” He speaks gently but once again, he doesn’t seem to want you to argue against it.

“O-Okay, I will.”

“Good, I’ll see you soon, bunny.” When you bid him goodbye, he hangs up, and you’re quick to send him your address, giving him instructions to text you when he arrives so you can meet him out front of the building.

During the next twenty or so minutes you’re practically running around your room trying to make yourself look presentable. You cried all of your makeup off so you opt to just wash the rest of it off, and then you pull your hair back and away from your face. It takes a bit to decide what to wear, after all this is just a friend taking another friend to get ice cream, but this is also James Barnes; he has more wealth than you could possibly imagine. You want to impress him and appear grateful for his friendliness, and looking at least half-decent would achieve that.

Finally, someone knocks on your door, yelling, “Someone’s here for you!”

With a rush of excitement, you grab your phone and wallet and slip on your shoes, then make your way out of your room to the front door where another roommate is standing in front of it, leaning against the frame and giggling at the person.

James.

He looks bored, almost like he’s trying to appear interested but can’t quite muster up the energy to do so. When you approach, he lifts his head, a wide smile crossing his face.

“There’s my little bunny,” He says confidently, completely ignoring your annoyed roommate. “Come on, let’s get you cheered up.”

With that you walk to him, timidly accepting his outstretched hand and letting him gently tug you into the hallway. When you turn around to tell your roommate that you’ll be back later you can’t even get a word out before you see her glaring at you and shutting the door — the click of the lock is audible through the empty hallway.

“Are they always like that?” James asks with a tone that conveys concern.

“Like what?” You know what he’s talking about, but you hate acknowledging it.

“Rude and disrespectful.” He is so blunt that it causes you to look down in embarrassment to avoid his intense gaze.

Yes, you want to say, they’re awful. You want to shout from the rooftops that your roommates are horrible to you, but you’re just too scared to do it.

“Oh – Oh, no, they’re just…” You trail off, peeking up at James to see the disbelief in his eyes. When you look down again, he brings up one of his hands to cup your cheek and guide your head up so you can look at him head-on.

“You don’t need to lie to me, bunny. I want you to trust me.” James sighs, leaning forward and placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Come on,” He squeezes your hand, smiling softly at you as he starts walking you out of the building and to his car.

It doesn’t take long to get to the ice cream shop, only a five-minute drive, and when you get there James keeps the car locked as he gets out so he can circle around to your side and open your door for you.

“Th-Thank you,” You say as you put your hand in James’ outstretched one, letting him guide you out of the car. He keeps his hold on your hand as you walk into the shop, going so far as to thread your fingers together while you wait in line.

The image of your hand encompassed by James’ large tattooed one has your tummy fluttering with butterflies. But, you must have been staring for a little too long because you’re broken out of your trance by James gently squeezing your hand.

“Is this okay, bunny?”

“Yes!” Heat floods your face as soon as you say it, feeling embarrassed by how quick you were to answer. “I, I mean. Um… Yes, it’s okay.”

James smirks at you, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. But, before you can stew in your shame, the man behind the counter says, “Next!”

You walk up to the counter, letting James order before giving yours. And when it’s time to pay, James doesn’t even drop your hand while he fishes his wallet out of his pocket and takes out his card. Your tummy flutters once again.

“Come, bunny.”

With your desserts now in hand, James leads you to a corner booth, only letting go of your hand so you can scoot in. He sits across from you, looking at you with what can only be described as thinly veiled hunger. It’s not off-putting, you just don’t know what it means.

“So, um…” You trail off looking down at your bowl of ice cream, fiddling with the spoon they gave you.

“You don’t need to be nervous, bunny,” James coos, reaching over and placing his hand palm up on the table, and you’re helpless but to take it, practically aching to feel his warmth again. “Now, other than everything that happened today, how have you been?”

It’s surprisingly easy to fall into a pleasant conversation with him, he asks questions and lets you finish talking before adding his own input, and he doesn’t break eye contact. It feels like he’s really listening to what you’re saying, and it’s almost freeing to have someone in your corner, someone you can trust and depend on.

What feels like far too soon, though has probably been several hours due to how dark it is outside, the man behind the counter comes to your table to tell you that they’re closing soon, and you can’t help but be sad. You’re enjoying James’ company far more than you probably should since you’ve only known him for a handful of days. It almost seems like you’ve known him your whole life.

“Well, bunny. I guess it’s time to go,” James says remorsefully, getting up out of the booth and reaching out his hand to help you out of the booth as well. He keeps holding your hand while you walk out of the door — making sure to throw away your trash on the way out.

James insists on opening the car door for you again — ever the gentleman. There’s a comfortable silence on the drive back to your apartment, your stomach swirling the entire time because James refuses to drop your hand. But when you get to your apartment building, a small amount of anxiety settles inside you, and you’re desperately hoping your roommates are asleep because you don’t feel like dealing with them after you’ve had such a good evening.

The silence is a little more tense while you ride the elevator up to your floor, but you’re grounded by James’ touch. It’s not until you get to your front door that you really look at him, staring into his twinkling eyes. And when he smiles, it settles your nerves.

“I guess this is the end of our night, bunny,” He says, squeezing your hand one last time before dropping it. Before you can mourn the loss of his touch he’s wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close to his chest, and you desperately hope he doesn’t hear the squeak you let out. You wrap your arms around his waist, letting James tuck your face into his neck while he holds you close.

“I had a wonderful time tonight,” James murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“Me too,” You say softly, breathing in and inhaling his comforting scent. “Thank you for cheering me up.”

“Of course, bunny. I’m always here for you.” Then, James pulls his head back so he can look into your eyes. “Always.”

You can’t help but smile. His gaze is hypnotizing, pulling you in and almost refusing to let you go.

“Thank you, James,” You breathe out, and one last time, James squeezes you and kisses your forehead, then steps back.

“I’ll talk to you soon, bunny?” James asks, smiling wide.

“Y–Yeah, I’ll text you. Or you can text me. Or call, that’s–that’s fine too.” Heat floods your face in embarrassment, but you don’t feel too bad about it because James only smiles wider, nodding once.

“I will.”

“Goodnight, James.” With that, you turn and unlock your door, turning around to look at James one last time as you shut the door.

“Goodnight bunny, I hope you have dreams as sweet as you are.” James winks, and you swear you can hear him chuckle when you squeak out an “o-okay,” and shut the door.

And maybe James is some kind of wizard because you have the best night of sleep you’ve had in a while.

For the next few weeks you and James text almost every day, and talk on the phone every couple of days. You’ve met up with him a few times as well, accepting his invitations to lunch or coffee. Each outing would last for several hours, too enraptured by his… everything to be the one to suggest the night should end. You’ve come to trust him, you know with a possibly concerning amount of certainty that James would do everything possible to keep you happy and safe.

Roughly a month and a half after meeting James, you’re sitting on your bed in the same position you were in when you first called him crying. Unlike last time, though, you don’t hesitate to call him. He’s told you time and time again that it doesn’t even matter if he’s in a meeting, he’ll always make time for you. You just hope that’s true.

He picks up almost immediately.

“Hello, bunny,” James says with the same soft tone he always uses when talking to you.

“H-hi, James,” You manage to say, before breaking out into sobs. You’re nearly hyperventilating, trying and failing to catch your breath between hiccups, and it takes a few minutes to calm down enough to hear rustling in the background on James’ end.

“Are you at home?” He asks with the utmost concern.

“Ye-Yes.”

“Stay there,” He says, using what you’ve deemed his CEO voice. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Ja–”

“Bunny.”

You sigh, knowing you can’t change his mind – not that you really want him to. You could really benefit from a hug right about now and James always provides the best ones.

“Can you at least stay on the phone with me?” Your voice is small, still sniffling every few words. You don’t think you could handle being alone with your own thoughts right now.

“Of course. You know I’ll do anything for you.”

It takes James twenty minutes to get to you, and he talks to you the whole time, just menial things to get your mind off of your sadness. When he lets you know that he’s at your apartment, you don’t even wait for him to tell you he’s coming up, you simply grab your jacket and slip on your shoes, then run to the front door without so much as a word to your roommates in the living room.

“James!” Upon seeing the man himself standing next to his car, you fling yourself into his arms, taking deep breaths to prevent yourself from crying in public. “Thank you for coming.”

“Bunny, how many times do I have to tell you that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep a smile on your pretty face?” James’ tone is teasing, but you know he’s serious if his stern and concerned gaze is anything to go by.

You nod, blinking back tears. It’s so nice to have a friend like James Barnes; kind, chivalrous, attentive. With the way he acts sometimes, you’d almost think he’s interested in more than friendship, but you always shake that thought off. He’s too handsome and wealthy to date some random personal assistant who’s barely able to make her rent.

“Come on, bunny,” James moves back but keeps an arm wrapped around your waist, leading you to his car and helping you in. Like always, he waits for you to sit so he can strap you in your seatbelt, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before shutting the door then running around to the driver's seat.

This time, instead of taking a left at the light at the end of your block, he keeps going forward, taking turns until you’re not exactly sure where you are.

“Um, where are we going?”

“My house,” James says casually, briefly glancing at you so he can give you that ever-soft smile.

“But, isn’t your house only twenty minutes away?” You’re confused, and a little curious as to what he’s talking about.

“I only stay there when I have meetings in the city. I have a house a little further out where I live most of the time. It’s a little more lived-in, so I want to bring you there where you’ll feel a little more…” James pauses for a moment, glancing at you again. “At home.” His explanation makes sense in your brain, quickly squashing any nerves that you had. He’s rich, so of course he’d have multiple houses.

It’s almost an hour long drive to get to his house. Well, house feels like an inappropriate term for what it actually is. It’s more like a mansion, standing tall at three stories, a long driveway with trees lining either side of the road, and a luscious garden surrounding the property.

James helps you out of the car and guides you up the steps to the front door, where he unlocks it and lets you step inside. The moment you pass through the threshold your jaw nearly drops to the floor; a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling right when you step in and beautiful artwork adorns the walls. The open floor plan gives you a good view of the living room and kitchen from your vantage point, and you can’t wait to sink into the luxurious and almost comically large couch in front of the TV.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” James urges you further in, bringing you to the living room.

“Um, just water is fine.” You look up at him, smiling shyly and nearly tripping when he smiles back.

“I’ll be right back,” James says, watching as you sit and sink into the plush couch. “Make yourself at home.” The look in his eyes when he says it sparks something inside you, something warm and fuzzy. Thinking of James’ house as your home makes your tummy flutter, but you don’t understand why.

God, you need to get it together.

You’re left alone for a moment, and everything is quiet except for the fridge opening and the glasses clinking. James’ absence allows you a moment to breathe properly, being with him always leaves you flustered, though you can’t deny that some part of you likes it. You like his commanding nature, how deep his voice gets when he talks passionately about something, how warm his embrace is when he holds you for what might be a little too long, squeezing you like he doesn’t want to let you go.

“Here you go, bunny.” Suddenly, a glass of water appears in front of you, and you take it with a gracious smile and a small “thank you.”

“So,” He says, sitting next to you — really close — and throwing his arm over your shoulders, practically pulling you into his lap. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Tears immediately spring to your eyes, suddenly remembering how horrible today was. You force yourself to take a couple of sips of your glass but your hand starts shaking enough to where James takes your glass and sets it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Bunny—“

His soft voice causes you to start crying, throwing yourself into his chest and burying your face in his neck as you sob out your troubles. James’ hand is warm on your back, rubbing it soothingly and squeezing you close to him. This time, he actually pulls you in his lap, you’re grasping the front of his sweater while he maneuvers your body so you’re straddling his thighs, and you can’t help but scoot closer so you’re sitting on him properly with your body flush against his.

A few minutes of crying later and your tears have finally slowed, your sobs deforming into hiccups until you calm down enough to hear James cooing into your ear, whispering sweet nothings. When you finally catch your breath, you pull back, staring up at James with wide eyes and a pout.

“I-I… I was fired! Fired! And I don’t know what I’m going to do! Mr. Walker just tossed me to the side because a document went missing and he blamed me, and now I’m jobless and my roommates are definitely going to kick me out because I can barely make my rent as it is. What am I going to do?”

James sighs, rubbing one hand up and down your back and keeping his other on your waist, though they manage to sneak up your shirt a little without your notice.

“I’m sorry, bunny,” He starts, giving you a comforting smile. “It’s awful that happened to you, and it’s not your fault, so don’t go blaming yourself like I know you want to.”

Your face goes warm with embarrassment. How is he able to read you so easily?

“And as far as your living situation, you’ll move in with me.”

“James!” Your eyebrows furrow, your head automatically shaking. “No, no I can’t do that to you. I don’t have a job anymore and I definitely can’t afford to pay you rent, I-I can’t burden you like that.” Even though it hurts to say it, you want to be honest with him. Because how on Earth are you supposed to pay him back for this?

“You’re not a burden.” You’re surprised by his angry tone, and his eyes darken as though he’s challenging you to say otherwise. “You’ll never be a burden on me, bunny. I’m offering you this, I don’t want you to pay me.”

As though he can sense your hesitation, he gives you a playful smirk.

“But if you really want to help, how about you do the cooking and cleaning? I don’t always get a good home-cooked meal, and it’d be nice to come back from work to see you in a cute little apron.”

This makes you giggle, a weight lifting off your shoulders when you nod timidly. “I-I can do that. I’ll do anything.”

And while you had pure intentions with that statement, James takes it differently, his eyes darkening even further as he nibbles at his bottom lip.

“Anything?” He smirks wider when you nod eagerly because that’s what you are. Always eager to please — especially please James.

“Yes, anything!”

James hums, seemingly thinking something over, before sliding one of his hands up the back of your shirt.

“How about you give me a kiss? I haven’t had a good one in a while,” While he sounds like he’s teasing, his face shows he’s anything but.

He really wants you to kiss him. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to deny him, you’re too grateful for his generosity. Plus, you’d be insane to pass up such an opportunity, he’s handsome, kind, and makes you feel safe. So, with only a little hesitation, you lean down and press your lips against his in a simple peck, but before you can pull away James groans, placing one hand on the back of your head to keep you steady.

His lips practically attack yours, his tongue invading your mouth and taking what it wants – you. You don’t even know it but you’re whimpering almost immediately, opening your mouth and letting James consume you whole. He’s smiling against your lips, biting your bottom lip as he retreats for a moment so he can stare up into your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful, bunny,” James whispers reverently like he’s hypnotized. And he’s not the only one. Your brain is quickly going silent, your sole focus is on James and how good he’s making you feel.

“Really?”

“So beautiful, I’ve always thought so.” His confession makes you whine, he thinks you’re beautiful, this gorgeous man with the deepest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Suddenly, James curses softly, grabbing your waist under your shirt, and that’s when you realize you’ve started subconsciously moving your hips against his.

“S-Sorry,” You mumble, though you’re not too sorry considering you can’t stop rolling down onto his lap, it feels too good.

“Don’t be.” James hums thoughtfully, leaning forward slightly and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Why don’t we go to my room? It’ll be more comfortable.”

You don’t even wait for him to finish before you start eagerly nodding your head, adjusting your legs as he stands so you can wrap them around his waist. He carries you to his room, smirking to himself the entire time because you can’t stop kissing and biting his neck in the hopes of leaving a mark, staking your claim. When you finally get there, James quickly shuts the door behind him and then drops you down onto the bed.

“Sir,” You whine when he doesn’t do anything, he’s only standing at the end of the bed, staring at you with eyes so dark with lust that you can’t see the blue of them.

“Don’t worry, bunny, I’ll take good care of you.” With that, he swiftly strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side, then undoes the button on his pants, slowly dragging down the zipper with a wide smirk at the haze in your eyes. “Do you want to help me?”

It takes a few moments for you to understand what he’s asking of you, but once you do you push yourself up, shuffling over to him until you’re sitting with your legs underneath your butt. For a moment you’re not sure what to do, you reach out for his pants but freeze mid-air because you just now realize that you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. You’ve never been in this situation before, your sexual exploits consist of goodnight kisses on the few dates you’ve been on, and your vibrator in your nightstand that has been working overtime ever since you met James.

“I-I’m sorry,” You murmur, embarrassment flooding your features.

“Why are you sorry, bunny?” James’ voice is soft, soothing your worries.

“I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never… been with a man before.” Your hands fall to your lap at the same time you hang your head. What if you disappoint him? You don’t know what you’re doing and you’d hate to mess anything up.

“I know, bunny. It’s okay.” James lifts your chin with his fore and middle fingers, guiding you to look at him again. “I’ll teach you everything.” His voice dips lower, his bottom lip getting trapped between his teeth when you smile, relieved.

“Now, I’m going to take off my pants, but I want you to take off my boxers. Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” You say quickly, eyes dropping to his crotch as he begins pulling the denim down, down, down until it pools on the floor. He steps out of them, then steps in front of you with his arms hanging by his side. When he raises his eyebrow, nodding to his underwear, you reach out for him again, this time with only a small amount of hesitation. Your nerves are nearly off the charts, but knowing that James is going to guide you makes you feel better.

Your hands are shaking slightly when you pull them down, and absolutely no one can fault you for the loud gasp you let out when he’s finally bare because holy shit. Despite being relatively anxious and naive surrounding sex, you’ve watched your fair share of porn, and while the men in them did usually have big dicks, they seem small compared to James’.

You’re almost frightened, how the hell is that going to fit inside you? James chuckles, and you realize you probably said that aloud.

“Don’t worry, bunny. I’ll make it fit,” James groans, reaching down to grab the bottom of your shirt. “I’m going to take this off now, okay?” He tugs it up and over your head once you give your consent, tossing it to the side and cursing when he sees the light pink bra barely covering your breasts. James is biting his lip so hard you’re worried he might draw blood, but you don’t pay it any mind because he’s soon urging you to lay on your back with your legs dangling over the edge.

“Gonna take these off too.”

Giving him a shy smile and a nod, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweatpants, glancing up at you one final time to make sure you’re okay before he surprises you by pulling them off of your legs in one swift movement. You’re tugged down the bed a little, a shocked gasp leaving your lips.

“Fucking angelic,” James murmurs, dropping to his knees and placing his large, rough hands on your knees. He smirks when he sees your matching light pink panties, already soaking wet at the crotch. You have to bite your lip to keep from whimpering when he pushes your legs wide apart, but you can’t stop yourself from squirming when he doesn’t do anything else.

“James,” You whine, high-pitched and needy.

“Sir,” He reminds you with a raised eyebrow as though he’s daring you to say his real name again. And just for good measure, he surprises you by lifting up one of his hands and swinging it down onto your clothed pussy in a harsh swat, causing you to let out a loud moan.

“Sir! I-I’m sorry, sir.”

“It’s okay, little bunny,” James coos as he runs his hands up the back of your thighs so he can push them up and out, letting him get a good look at where you need him most. “Are you going to let me eat your pretty pussy?”

Even though it’s phrased as a question, you know James isn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. It’s not like you even want to tell him ‘no’, you’re too desperate for something, anything.

“Y-Yes, sir. Please.” Your begging makes him groan, and he quickly dips forward so he’s not even an inch away from your core, inhaling deeply and cursing again.

With a quick kiss to your covered clit, he twists his fingers into the band of your panties and rips them into pieces, and you know you’ll have marks from it. But you want them, you want evidence of this night, and you’ll gladly take anything he gives you. And no sooner than your panties off do James dive in, inhaling once more before his tongue sneaks out and licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit.

It’s at that point that you know you’re well and truly fucked, because there’s no way you’re not going to become addicted to the feeling of his tongue dipping into your quivering hole, the way he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it into his mouth, the way he groans into your pussy like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

And it doesn’t take long for your legs to start shaking, desperately trying to close around James’ head but not being able to due to his hands gripping your thighs and holding them still. The filthy groans he lets out are enough to make you cum alone, but then he attaches his lips to your clit again and gently bites down, forcing an obscene moan out of your mouth.

He lets you get used to the pleasure, switching between fucking his tongue deep inside you and flicking at your clit, and only when he decides you’re ready does he manage to slide his forefinger in your pussy all the way to the third knuckle.

“Sir!” You can’t help but yell. Yes, it stings, but it’s far outweighed by the pleasure of his tongue assaulting your pulsating nub.

He wastes no time in slowly sliding it in and out, wiggling it around until you whine loudly, letting him know he’s found that special spot. You’re too out of it to realize it but James is smiling, clearly smug at how he’s making you react. You wouldn’t care anyway, in fact, he deserves it. He’s making you feel too good, especially when he slips in his middle finger and spreads them.

“Oh god! Yes, fuck. Sir, yes,” You’re incoherent, blabbering nonsense because your brain is too foggy to form a coherent thought. James picks up the pace, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking it as he thrusts his fingers directly at your g-spot.

“Sir! Sir, I-I’m…” As soon as he started, he stopped, pulling out his fingers and leaning back slightly with a wide grin. His chin is coated in your juices, and the gleam in his eyes shows you that you’re not going to be able to cum so easily.

“Not yet, bunny,” James says when you whine pathetically, trying to buck your hips up into his mouth but unable to do so because of his commanding grip now holding your waist. “I’m not letting you cum until I’m inside you.”

James then climbs onto the bed, guiding you upwards to lay your head against the plush pillows so he can lean over your body. With little preamble, he snakes his arms around your back to quickly unclasp your bra and allow your breasts to spill free.

“I can’t wait to watch these bounce,” James groans, palming one of them, twisting and pinching at your nipple. James just laughs when you hiss, because your soaked pussy is enough to tell him that you’re loving what he’s doing. 

“Bunny.” He says gruffly, and your eyes shoot up to meet his, though you can hardly see him because your vision is hazy, nothing matters except James. “Are you ready?”

You’re barely able to mumble ‘yes’, but you manage to do so, and James takes that as his cue to grasp the base of his cock and position it at your entrance. He places his other hand on your neck, lightly squeezing the sides to keep your eyes locked on his.

The pressure against your hole is immense, James telling you to breathe as he slowly pushes deeper. He stops about halfway through, giving you a moment for the pain to fade. He’s clearly having a hard time staying still but is cognizant enough to know you’re overwhelmed. It takes a few minutes of deep breathing before you finally nod, silently letting him know that he can move. And he does, pushing in all the way until his hips are flush with yours. Once again, he stills, leaning down to brush his lips over your cheeks and catch the tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.

“H-Hurts, sir,” You whimper out, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with him. And while your core is burning, James looks so damn proud that you’re taking him that it pushes away any discomfort.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Even though you’re in mild pain you’re pretty sure you’ll cry if he pulls out, you need everything he can give you. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, bunny,” James coos, then tightens his grip around your neck ever so slightly. “I’ll give you what you need.” And as though a switch was flipped, James pulls back, pausing for half a second before thrusting forward.

“Ahhh!” Your mouth drops open as you scream, your arms coming up to claw at James’ shoulders and back as he gives you all he has.

And he has a lot to give. He puts his back into fucking you, keeping one hand around your neck and using his other arm to pull your left leg over his shoulder. Sweat beads at your hairline, your eyes stinging with tears, your whole body lit on fire. At this moment, nothing matters except the delicious burn between your legs, the way your body is shoved further up the bed with each of James’ powerful thrusts until it gets to the point where he has to place the hand around your leg on the headboard to steady you.

“Fuck, bunny, you feel so good. You’re so good for me.” James can’t stop mumbling praises, and even though you can’t really hear them, you feel them. Your eyes don’t move from his, even as he glances down to where your bodies are joined. “Fuck, little bunny. Your pussy looks so good stuffed full of my cock, knew you’d take me so well.”

“S-Sir,” You whimper, bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts and digging your nails into his skin. But James doesn’t seem to mind if the way his whole body shudders and his hips slightly lose their rhythm is anything to go by.

“Are you gonna be a good little bunny and cum for me?” James moves his gaze back up to your face, chuckling when he sees how fucked-out you already are. Despite his hand still around your neck you manage to nod, little cries and whines escaping into the air every time James’ cock gets shoved against your cervix.

“Yeah, you are,” James continues, leaning over your body even more and shifting so the tip of his dick hits your spot with every thrust. “You’re going to squirt all over my cock so I can cum deep in your cunt. Gonna cum in you every day, keep you full of me, maybe even plug you up to make sure it sticks.”

You’re right there, your pleasure climbing higher and higher until you’re ready to fall off the edge. James’s next sentence sends you there.

“Fuck, bunny. You’re going to be the perfect little mommy to all the children I’m gonna give you.”

When you wake up, James will tell you about how you came so hard that you blacked out, squirting and gushing around his cock while he continued telling you how even more beautiful you’ll be when you’re pregnant, taking care of him and his home, how he knew you were the one for him from the moment he first saw you. Your things will already be moved into his house. New clothes chosen specifically for you will be hung up in his closet and the bathroom will be adjusted to fit your products. The kitchen is going to be filled with all the food you like. And your cat will be curled up in a miniature hammock in her very own room.

When you wake up, you’ll see how much thought James put into redecorating his home just for you.

And you’ll be too grateful for his kindness to question where he put your birth control.

main taglist: @lilyalone / @crazyunsexycool / @goldylions / @yeehawbrothers / @buckyssweetheart / @buckysprettybaby / @sushiseoks / @heytheredelulu / @somnorvos / @ozwriterchick / @pxgeturner / @gentlelimerence

bucky taglist: @justsebstan / @myfavbuckyfics

[lokiswifeduh]

Don't leave me

Pairings- Mob!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary- The aftermath of the shootout was here. And Bucky has to come to terms with the results of the life he introduced you to, and what revenge he would ensue.

notes- this is a part two to Doll, please. I hope you guys enjoy the ending!! Please let me know your thoughts!! Thank you for reading loves!!

Warnings- angst, talk of guns, drugs, kidnapping, abuse, torture. major gore. sad Bucky, hurt reader, hurt/comfort, gunshot wounds, medical talk, revenge.

WC- 3k

catch up here (part one)

masterlist

"Doll, please."

I saw her look up at me with those doe eyes. Those big beautiful eyes painfully gazing into mine. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to turn her away from the bullets that were sure to fly our way, but I couldn't move my hands. In this moment I couldn't protect her.

I felt the sob rip from her throat. There were only ten seconds left.

"I vowed to stand by your side, Buck." She looked back to the ten guns pointed in mine and her direction. I could see a stray tear slip down her cheek as her hands shook, her nails digging into her palm as she tried her hardest to release my wrists from the painful wire digging into them.

Suddenly she dropped the knife, jumping into my lap. Her hands wrapped around my neck as her legs surrounded the back of the chair, encasing my upper body. "NO! Doll, please!!" I felt her hit the knife in my thigh with hers, but I ignored the pain focusing on what in the world she thought she was doing.

The men cocked their guns. But in that moment all I could think about was how to get her off of me. I needed her to run, to fight back to do something. Not to protect my body with hers. I couldn't let her.

"Doll!! Stop!! Get up!!" But my protests fell on deaf ears as she tucked my head into her chest, wrapping her arms tighter around my neck, not letting me move a muscle below her. She shook her head, my tears soaking her shirt, mixing with mine and her blood. "I won't let you die." She attempted to shout but at that moment her voice was the quietest I'd ever heard it.

I tried to whisper back when suddenly shots rang out through the warehouse. My head popped up, prepared to die with the love of my life. I wouldn't let her do it herself. I would not live without her. Not if I had a choice.

But in that split second, I realized the first bullets that went flying weren't from Rumlow's men, it was from Steve, Sam, and my men, shooting at the ones who threatened us.

"Doll, we're gonna be oka-" But my words were cut short as two bullets flew into her. She screamed. Her vocal cords grinding together in the most painful way I'd ever heard. I felt my heart rip in two as her body shook against mine, arching her back as if that would stop the pain.

But she kept her head down, arms shaking yet still holding onto me. I would have cut my hands off if I had the strength to rip through the restraints. A sob tore from my throat, "Don't do this to me."

She finally lifted her head, my beautiful wife looking at me with such care and tenderness. As if she hadn't just been shot twice, and wasn't using all of her strength to hold onto me for dear life.

A small drop of blood trickled down the side of her mouth as her teeth were painted red. "I love you, James Barnes." She cupped my face in her hands, tucking me back into her chest as her grip seemed to loosen, "Till forever and always."

The words we both said to each other on our wedding day. "Doll, please." Her hold on me finally failed as she fell, but thankfully into the arms of Steve, before her head would've slammed into the concrete.

My second in command looked at both of us. Tortured and bloody. I held in my tears as I looked at Sam, leading a pair of medics through the door.

"Rumlow will pay." The wire from my wrists was snapped in half thanks to Peter, a new, very terrified recruit. I shot down immediately onto my knees, holding her head in my hands as the paramedics loaded my wife onto the stretcher. "Don't leave me."

I made eye contact with Steve, "I will have him and that traitor's head."

_________________

You lay in the hospital bed, your whole body practically wrapped in soft white bandages.

You could feel the pressure of something on your thigh as you tried to open your eyes. It wasn't working. Why couldn't you just open them?!

Try something else, you thought.

You moved your hands, the feeling of someone else's palm in yours made your heart start to race. You could remember little parts over the last three days.

Bucky was kidnapped.

Steve was put in charge.

You were kidnapped.

Natasha was working with Rumlow.

The torture.

The pain.

Your husband's face as you used yourself as a human shield.

Being shot.

Suddenly you heard screaming and saw bright lights. A heart monitor was beeping louder and faster at each passing second.

Realizing the screaming was in fact your own, you started to breathe harder. You finally could open your eyes!

Your surroundings were blurry at first. There was a familiar figure in front of you. Sounds were muffled but began to come back into focus.

"Doll?! Sweetheart, you're okay."

You shook your head, looking around in panic before realizing you were in fact back at home, in your bed. Bucky beside you. Your husband, holding your face in his hands.

"B-Bucky?" Your voice was raspy and your throat felt like sandpaper, rubbing together from underuse.

Involuntarily you started to cough, holding a hand up to your throat which only caused more pain in your back to bloom. "Ah," You groaned, swallowing before resting your head back on the pillow.

You felt Bucky's hands leave your body, but only for a second as he held a straw to your lips. "It's just water doll. I need you to drink this for me." You nodded, feeling a pounding in your head as you sucked down the refreshing liquid. The coolness soothing your throat like rain in the desert.

"Good girl." Bucky gave you a soft smile, taking the straw away from your mouth as you finished the water.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you regained your vision, looking around.

Monitors, medical equipment, and an abundance of flowers and cards filled your and Bucky's bedroom. Light shone through the window as you squinted, shooting over to look at Bucky who just gazed down at you worryingly.

You looked him over, seeing the cuts and bruises that adorned his face. His lip was split in multiple places. His thigh was wrapped in gauze and his wrists were bandaged. Looking down, so were yours. Actually, it seemed your entire body was.

"Are yo-," You swallowed, "Are you okay?"

Bucky took a moment before letting out a laugh. "You're asking me if I'm okay, doll?" You nodded, confused.

"Sweetheart you're the one who's been unconscious for three weeks and has two bullet wounds."

You twisted your hips a little, feeling the agonizing, shooting pain of the very real bullet wounds. Groaning, you whispered, "So that definitely happened, good to know."

Bucky ran his hand down the side of your face, sitting in the chair that was placed beside your shared bed. "I'm the one who's supposed to protect you, doll." You gulped, "I- I couldn't let you die, James."

Bucky closed his eyes, laying his head down on your thigh as he gripped your hand in his. "I would've rather die than see you in this state, sweetheart."

You lifted your other hand, running it through his untamed hair. "Don't say that, Buck." But his head lifted, making you notice his bloodshot eyes and the way tears streamed down his face in harsh lines. "I won't live without you, doll." He shook his head, a tear dripping onto the hospital blanket "I would rather die a thousand times over and over in the same painful way than see you in such agony, my love."

You held back tears, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your breath. "I couldn't- no. I wouldn't let you die like that, Buck." You looked at him once again, "Not at the hands of Rumlow. Not because of me." "This wasn't because of you, doll-" "But it was!" You shouted, making you cough slightly, not used to using your voice for this long yet. "Rumlow took you because he wanted to hurt us- because he wanted me." You cupped Bucky's jaw in your hand, "Because I chose you." Bucky gulped, "I've never been so scared." You softly laughed, thinking of all the shootouts, drug deals, and interrogations Bucky went through on a day-to-day basis.

But he shook his head, hearing your chuckle. "Seeing him hurt you and torture you the way he did." Bucky's eyes went dark, "I've never wanted to hurt someone so bad just to ensure you made it out of there safely." You tried to speak up but Bucky kept going. "And look at you now. You're laying here, with two gunshot wounds, fingernails ripped apart, and a busted-up face."

Tilting your head, you looked at the mirror that stood in front of your and Bucky's bed; genuinely taking in your appearance. You in fact did have a busted-in face. Your lip was split. Your eyebrow was stitched as well as your nose. You had bruises covering every inch of your skin and your hair was in the worst shape you had ever seen.

Gulping, you looked away from the mirror, making Bucky take your chin in his hands, guiding you to look him in the eyes. "But you're still the prettiest doll I've ever seen." He moved, bringing his lips to yours in a soft yet long-awaited kiss. "My best girl."

It hurt to smile but you did, bringing your hand to his face, gently rubbing over the matching bruises that mirrored yours. "I love you, James."

"I love you, doll."

________________________

The next few days were agonizing.

You could finally stand up on the third day. But not without terrible pain shooting in every nerve ending of your body.

Bucky helped you with everything. From showering to cleaning your wounds. He was quite the nurse when it came to you.

But unfortunately about a week after you woke up, the violence hadn't ended. There were still some loose ends to tie up.

Slowly walking down the stairs and into one of the main rooms, everyone's attention went to your hobbling frame. "Doll?" Bucky sped over, Steve immediately pulling up a chair so you could take a seat.

As you sat down you noticed a large bruise on Steve's jaw. You knew Bucky would eventually be mad at him for not properly making sure you stayed out of the mess and violence of it all. But you were hoping it would've been a stern lecture, not a punch.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Bucky whispered. The room stayed completely silent as Steve, Sam, and the rest of Bucky's men kept their backs turned, giving you two some privacy.

"I know you're planning to retaliate against, Rumlow."

Bucky nodded, taking your face in his hands as you fidgeted with the string of your sweatpants. Well, Bucky's sweatpants.

"I don't want you involved again, doll." He glanced back at Steve for a moment, "Not after what happened."

You shook your head, "I need him to pay for this, Buck." Your body shook with anger, "I want his fucking blood." Bucky was slightly startled, never seeing this much hatred in your eyes. You were always his sweet wife. You made the men cookies, and you organized charity events for the homeless shelter down the street.

Sure, you knew how to use a gun and fight if you had to. But seeing this much agonizing resentment on your face, scared him. But he knew you wouldn't let it go. He sure as hell wasn't.

So he let you know the plan, and what was going down.

______________

"Steve? We good?" Bucky touched the earpiece, hearing an affirmative. The mob had infiltrated Rumlow's mansion only one week later, killing every single man who stood in their way. Shoot on site. Was your husband's order as you and he waited to enter the mansion, making sure only Rumlow and Natasha were left.

Two of Bucky's men opened the doors to the mansion. The sight of the place made you cringe slightly. Soldiers were dead on the ground everywhere. Blood painted the floors and staircases like a stain.

"Top floor, back left bedroom."

You heard Steve's voice echo through the earpiece as you and Bucky made your way up.

His hand never left the small of your back, making sure you were covered at all angles with men following behind and in front of you, rifles pinned for every aspect of an attack.

"You alright, doll?" Bucky whispered, his hand on the door that would lead you to Rumlow. You nodded, ignoring the dull pain in your back. "I need this to be over with." Your husband kissed the crown of your head, nodding to his men as they busted down the door, guns held high.

But the sight in front of you made you smile.

Rumlow was beaten down, cowering in the corner of the room as Natasha stood in the corner, you could see the fear in her eyes. The same fear she caused you as she ripped your fingernails to pieces.

"Brock Rumlow," Bucky spoke in a deep voice, pulling on a pair of black gloves, before handing you a matching pair.

You slipped them on, hand placed on the knife that was strapped onto your thigh, just above the black jeans you had on.

Steve and Sam patted Bucky on the back, looking toward you with respect. "Have fun, you two." The blonde spoke, before exiting and closing the doors behind them.

"P-please, Barnes." Rumlow pleaded, "Have mercy."

Bucky was about to laugh before Natasha beat him to it. "Oh, please. You two really think he was the mastermind behind all this?" You looked over at the redhead in the corner, your former friend.

"If he's not, does that mean you are?" Your voice carried through the room, a newfound confidence making you raise your head high.

Natasha grinned, "And here I thought you never would've survived." You tilted your head, "Two bullet shots and I'm walking four weeks later." You pulled the gun from your other holster, "I can't say the same for you after this." You pointed it right at her forehead.

"Come here," Bucky moved forward, knowing you had Natasha pinned with the intent to shoot; dragging Rumlow up as two of his men held him on his knees.

"Nat, please. Do something." Rumlow begged, making you let out a laugh under your breath. "Do you think she's really in the position to?" You saw her move forward slightly, making you cock your gun, "One more step and I blow your fucking brains all over these white sheets."

Bucky grinned, loving this color on you.

"You really thought you could take my girl from me?" Your husband kneels in front of Brock, pulling out a knife from his belt. "What did you call her after breaking her nose? Oh, that's right, a 'lovely specimen."

Bucky's smirk dropped, nodding at the two men holding Brock down as they forced his mouth open. Brock shouted and yelled as Bucky gripped the end of his tongue, pulling it from his mouth and slicing it clean off from the base with his knife.

Brock wailed and cried as another soldier brought over a jar filled with a yellow liquid, opening the top so Bucky could drop the tongue in. He closed the lid, holding it up high as he watched Brock's mouth fill with blood. "What a lovely specimen."

"You two are fucking sick." Natasha, sneered, making you grip the knife from your own holster, throwing it and landing it right in her hand that was held in the air. She screamed, falling to the ground and back up until her back hit the wall.

You kneeled down, gun still pointed in her face, "Talk again and next time your tongue will join his in the jar." Your former friend gulped, nodding as you smirked.

Bucky gripped the front of Brock's shirt, making his back touch Bucky's chest as he held a knife to his throat. "Anything you wanna say before I kill you in front of your girlfriend, Rumlow?"

You laughed, slightly, making Bucky huff in humor. "Oh, that's right. You can't" He whispered the last part before slicing a clean and deep cut across his neck, blood pouring out as he collapsed to the ground, whimpering and sputtering in pain as he bled out, his eyes on you in fear as he eventually stopped moving.

Natasha looked back at you, still clutching her bleeding hand into her chest. You kneeled down, "Why, Natasha?" She shook with terror, hardly being able to force the words out. "Why did he have to pick you?!"

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "What?" Natasha scoffed, looking over at your husband, then back to you.

"Before you came along I thought he could love me. But then you showed up, taking all Bucky's attention. I never stood a fucking chance." You laughed, sighing before standing and walking over to Bucky, placing a hand on the back of his head before smashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. He groaned, biting your lip and making you moan into his mouth.

You chuckled, still holding the back of his head in your hand. You lifted your arm, perfect aim.

"No, Natasha. You never stood a fucking chance." One, two, then three shots rang out through the room as you planted two bullets in Natasha's head, and one in the chest.

Dropping the gun, you saw her body slump to the ground. Dead.

Bucky turned you away from the scene, bringing your face into his hands as both of you had unshed tears in your eyes. "It's over, doll."

You nodded, holding onto his hands as they held your face. "Can we go home, Buck?" He nodded, bringing your face into his chest as he walked you back through the house and into the car. "We're going home, doll. I'm never leaving you."

End

__________________

part one (read first)

masterlist

Taglist:

@yeahyeahyeah23-blog @rinniereads123 @shortnloud @julvrs @unaxv @sapphirebarnes

[thehydraethereal]

FRIGHTENING NEW WORLD

WE DRANK LOYALTY IN VINES...

...BUT YOURS TURNED TO BLOOD IN MY MOUTH.

⇀ word count: 1.1 K

⇀ pairings: dark! Sam Wilson x reader | dark! Bucky Barnes x reader (implied) | Joaquin Torres x reader | ✶✶✶

⇀ warnings: dark dark dark content, 18+ MDNI | violence; power imbalance; phsychological horror; blood: restraints; threats; mentions of rape; mentions of domestic violence; mentions of forced infertility; dacryphilia; swear words, my work is dark and triggering. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

⇀ author's note: i've finished this in ONE sitting, wow. I loved CABNW and this occured in my mind as soon as I finished watching it. Reblogs, comments, and more REQUESTS are appreciated. BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST |

��� tags: my soul sister @highonmarvel xxx | If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know. I love you all so so much! Thank you for reading!

Oaxaca, Mexico

You had never believed that the sun might shine over you again, but here you were, strolling peacefully through the bustling market, a woven basket nestled in the crook of your arm, its handle tangled in your fingers. Your gaze lingered on the ripe, sun-kissed fruit— apricots, blushing peaches, nectarines, and ruby-red strawberries—while the air swelled with their honeyed fragrance, laced with the mellow sweetness of…plums.

Even after almost one year, the scent rose stripes of terror up your spine, and whenever you saw their blue–burgundy color, the broken ribs, the slaps, the punches, even his gaze flooded your mind altogether.

The anxiety attacks were fewer, shorter and less frightening every week, but your previous life still lingered in the back of your head. The wounds were long healed, but small scars were visible here and there—up your arms towards your shoulders, on your thighs, littlest ones on the crook of your neck and up your jaw and one people were…not able to see. After he took your freedom, broke your will, terrorized you even of your own shadow, he took your right and your ability of…ever having a family of your own. Your pained gaze often fell upon children around your house, in the village and it was like his reminder that said ‘I did this to you. You’ll never have one of your own.’, and it always made you turn your head away from them nauseously.

You never thought you'd be able to flee James Barnes, you thought it was impossible and it truly was. But some divine force must have helped you gain the bravery you never knew was inside you, and guided you all the way here, in this forgotten speck on the map.

The bells of the wide church —the only major social point in the town, situated right next to the market— rang loudly, in an oddly comforting way and you inhaled deeply as you adjusted the long skirts of your summer dress.

A loud explosion interrupted your beautiful life, and you fell on the road. Dust, mud and pulp of crushed, rotten fruit from the ground stained your new dress and you let out a broken sob when you also saw blood on your palms. Small cuts lingered on the raw skin, and you struggled to get up. The freshly bought fruit were long forgotten in the dirt as you looked disorientated around and your teary eyes caught a pair of coal black ones.

Your heart leapt out of your ribcage when you remembered the face. Sam Wilson, a shadow from your past, was James’ best friend. His eyes glinted when he recognized you. He was like a falcon—you never doubted his superhero name—and you were most afraid to hide away from him back then when you ran.

You never got the chance to see the smirk that planted on his face because of how swift you turned your head away, somehow pleading to the divine force to help you again and make him forget your features. But a man about your age already got his orders about you.

Joaquin Torres furrowed his brows in confusion when he heard Captain America's orders.

"So let me get this straight— you want me to gather all the bad guys and jus' throw them in the cars myself, man? Are-are you sure 'bout this?", the young man asked, looking around him.

"Do you think you can handle them?", came the voice from the other side of the phone to which Joaquin nodded vigorously to himself, then replied affirmatively and maybe too excitedly.

"Good, we'll meet at the agreed location in short time. I—", finished the older man, looking at the tiny, cozy cottage before his eyes, "—have some business to take care of."

You were stuffing clothing items in a bag with one hand and with the other you were looking through the bedside cabinet for your passport and cash. Tears ran down your face ever since you arrived home from the market and you simply couldn't stop them, despite the will to do so.

You zipped up the bag and you pulled on a pair of clean shorts and a large tee with leafy hands and then you climbed down the stairs. Regret, anger, fear, all these ate at you.

"It's good to see you again, honeybee!"

You almost stumbled across the last stair when the words hit you. Your lungs were rejecting the oxygen as more tears fell when your eyes caught the ones you knew so well.

His hands were carelessly caressing the chair before him, his gaze sticked on your trembling figure.

"You know, I really hoped to catch a glimpse of the pretty sight standing in front of me now earlier, it would've spared my pal of much suffering."

"Suffering?", you whispered, finding the voice under all the bitterness in your throat. "H-he suffered? He was the one t-that suffered?"

"Oh, and how he did. He refused to eat the week you left, he barely slept for months, he spent millions on men, private detectives, all types of shit just to find you. I also highly doubt he fucked since you decided to disappear into thin air."

Your face contorted into a disgusted grimace as you took a small step back.

"Honeybee—", Sam growled as he started approaching you, "—I'd reallyyy like to give you a nice, lil' chance to get the fuck outta this house and go back with me, but I'm afraid you lost that right looong ago."

You couldn't even resist when his rough, confident grip fell over your freshly healed wrists, and when you felt your back pressed into his broad, sculpted chest, a whimper escaped your lips.

Sam bent you on the counter and your face fell into the flowers you picked from your garden in the morning and you tried to block everything, simply not wanting to believe this was happening. You really believed you would be free and at peace, protected and joyful for the rest of your life. How pathetic and far away those hopes sounded. Scratchy plastic secured your hands together as Sam grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you up against him again. He knocked the door open with his foot and started pulling you out of your comforting shelter.

"Sam, I am begging you, don't t-take me back to him, pleaseeee.", you started crying as he forced you outside your home. "You can't d-do this t-to me, Sam, you can't! Y-you were my...my friend, too."

Sam slapped his palm across your mouth to muffle the screams, or maybe to stop the words that made him feel so guilty from coming. "I am James' friend, not yours. My loyalty is his, and everything you've done hurt him. Now it's jus' fair you suffer too, ain't it?". These words hurt more than anything he did until now. Sam knew what Bucky did, he had seen the bruises, he had heard the cries, yet he had done nothing against it. And maybe that unsettled you, but now? Now he was forcing you into the wolf's fangs, and it felt completely different.

Your lost eyes caught one of your neighbors, Ms. Solís , at the window. Another whimper escaped you pleadingly, directed to her, but she did not dare to do anything. Nobody ever did.

Your knees buckled under your own weight, and you collapsed in the dust despite Sam's grip. You heard him scowl and his hand came to the back of your shirt. He gripped it and pulled you up against his body again. You sobbed and you tried to elbow him but Sam was swifter. He caught your tied limbs and grasped. "Fuckin' walk, bitch. Bucky would want to teach you to behave first, but I don't mind starting myself right now, you hear me?". The threat made you cry harder and when Sam gripped your arms even harsher you nodded weakly. What Sam was doing to you felt like a short training considering what would wait for you back in New York.

A black SUV was parked there, behind some wide Madrone bushes. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might just burst right there. You hoped that, if you were to be honest.

"S-sam, just know th-that if you're taking me back....he'll k-kill me—", you tried calling Sam's mercy out one last time. He just turned his head away, letting your words fall into the abyss of desperation and nothingness.

A younger man peeked from behind the vehicle. His smile dropped when he saw your trembling form. His eyes darted from the blood on your chin to your restrained and bruised arms. Hair was cascading over your face and your lower lip trembled as you fought with yourself to stop the sobs and whimpers. Joaquin thought you were so beautiful. So, why were you here in this state?

"Whoa, man, what's happening? What did she do?" Joaquin started, coming closer to you with raised hands, showing you you don't have to be afraid of him. You still flinched when his caring hands came in contact with your pained limbs.

"Leave her as she is, Joaquin...", said Sam and you looked desperately at the man your age. He furrowed his brows and looked at his superior. "B-but—"

"You wanna be the next Falcon, don't you?" Sam asked, patting the younger man on the shoulder.

"Yes, of course I do!"

"Then—", Sam started again, looking into the boys' eyes, "—you gotta learn to close your eyes at certain things. These are the stories media don't care about, you hear me? The majority of people get saved, everybody's happy, but you should know there are...collateral victims. And she's one of 'em. Now, buddy, if you really wanna be an Avenger...put her in the car."

Joaquin took a big step back, accidentally bumping into you. He quickly caught you, preventing your body from falling again, and then looked back at Sam, which raised his brows and his hands, as if he was giving Joaquin an offer he couldn't refuse. And Joaquin didn't refuse it.

He opened the car door and he tried to carefully place you in the backseat. " 'm sorry, so sorry...", he mumbled as he gave you the pill Sam told him to. "This'll help ya sleep, okay?"

"P-please, please help me—', you cried, looking into his regretful eyes as he forced the drug past your lips.

"Shh, shhh...you'll be jus' fine, 'kay? Be good now, please—".

You knew you will be anything but fine. Sam and Joaquin both entered the car and as Joaquin was starting it, Sam dialed a number and put the phone on speaker.

"Buck, I think I've found somethin' that's yours, buddy. And you'll be really thrilled to see it...", Sam laughed, smirking at you in the reviewing mirror.

The quietness that followed the sentence was short, but dense.

"Hello, doll...", came the voice from the other side of the phone, and its maliciousness and calmness made your whole body shiver. He knew you were there. He was sure of it somehow. You felt his presence right there, in Sam's deeds, in the dark sky, in your rapid, choked sobs, in your heavy lids.

That fucking nickname wrote right then, right there the end of your world and marked the beginning of the Frightening New World.

[highonmarvel]

Heyy love your work. I wanted to make a request for Bucky Barne was thinking something like reader goes to his house for Christmas but then he forcefully drugs her with a syringe and she's held captive. But he's overal nice enough. He'd let her kick or scream or fight back. But then one day he lets her out of the basement or wherever he keeps her and she tries to escape and succeeds to some degree He manages to catch her and he snaps, gets angry and punishes her and she's scared cuz he snapped.

Winter

i love this! i’m sorry this isn’t proofread—i’m late as is and needed to get this out into the world so at least some people can read this as they lie in bed and have it be relevant. also, i’m so sorry, i left out the syringe bit because i got too into the plot i conjured up with the food coma here, sorry, sweetheart, but please, send another request if you really want to see it get done. let me know your thoughts, also to my sister @thehydraethereal. with that out of the way:

Bucky Barnes: A Christmas dinner opens your eyes to a new type of Winter.

additional content warnings here!

CONTENT WARNING, PLEASE READ: This piece includes graphic depictions of torture. Seriously, this is really dark; do not proceed if you are not comfortable with explicit descriptions of physical violence. This is your warning. This is fucking dark. I can not stress this enough. I am fucked up.

It wasn’t that you were technically averse to relationships or had commitment issues, you just feel like at this point in your life a solid relationship wasn’t really going to work. You had been travelling to the other side of the country quite a bit to take care of your sister, but this Christmas, your parents went down, so you didn’t really have an excuse to bail when Bucky invited you to dinner.

You don’t think you’re technically dating him–you don’t ever recall you or him asking the other to be their partner–but you’ve at least been going out with him for a few months. Guess you’d have to face him at some point; it’s been nearly three weeks since he had suggested you live together, which had caught you completely off-guard. You had managed to side-step the conversation at the time before making up some bullshit excuse to leave, and you haven’t had the courage to face him since.

Pulling into Bucky’s driveway always makes you feel a little uneasy; he doesn’t live like a hermit or overly secluded, but for some reason the houses in this suburb seem just a little too far apart for comfort–no one really has ‘neighbours.’

The scent of a very well-cooked meal carries right up to the front door, making you take a deep whiff before knocking.

“Hi, honey,” Bucky answers the door, leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“God, I’m practically drooling out here,” you say, and Bucky laughs as he steps out of the way and allows you in. “How long have you been standing?”

“Ah, a few hours,” he admits, sheepishly, watching you hang your coat up and rubbing the back of his neck when you raise your eyebrows at him.

“But it’s just the two of us, no?” you question as you lead him into the kitchen (maybe you being so casual in his home gave him the impression you’d like to move in with him).

“Yeah,” he replies, tailing you. “But I realised I don’t really know what you like and I panicked a bit.”

You giggle and that seems to ease his apparent embarrassment, allowing him to let out a breathless laugh as he moves into the kitchen, standing on the other side of the island as you settle on a stool.

“How have you been?” he inquires as he pours you a glass of wine, not making eye contact.

“Alright,” you reply, watching the red liquid slosh into the glass. “Glad to have some time off.”

“How’s your sister?”

You sigh and mouth a thank you to him as he slides the glass towards you. After a sip, you look up at him. “Better, I think, and she’s only allowed two visitors at a time–my parents really wanted to see her so I let them for Christmas, they don’t really get a chance otherwise.”

He hums in understanding as he puts on pink oven mitts and crouches down.

“Are you disappointed?” he asks loudly as he pulls a dish out of the oven.

You shrug. “I’d have liked to go, but I’m not all that sad about it. I don’t have much going for me in New York, so I was worried I’d be bored, but I’m having a good time.

“You just got here!” He laughs as he rises with a turkey.

“I know, but wine.” You raise your glass to him and peer into the ceramic dish. “Turkey?” you ask, which he responds to with a hum of affirmation.

“I don’t really like it, not sure if you do.”

“I like it. I would have thought you patriots like Thanksgiving stuff, though.”

You help him set up a few dishes across a small dining table and sit down.

“This was really sweet, Bucky.” You smile, tone sincere and nearly sappy as he cuts you a large leg of turkey. “Doesn’t this stuff make you sleepy?” you joke, and it takes him just a beat too long to chuckle.

“I think that’s a myth, actually,” he responds as he sits back down across from you.

“Really?” you raise your eyebrows as you dig your knife and fork into the leg. “I could have sworn...”

“Is it good?” he asks, watching you carefully, and with a kind of interest that makes you slightly uneasy, but you can’t deny it’s heavenly. You nod enthusiastically and point to the meat.

“God, this is great! You’d swear there was cocaine in here or something.”

Something lights in his eyes for a second, a spark you mistake for happiness. Bucky has always loved nothing more than to see you happy and relaxed: one of the reasons you were so drawn to him was his genuine desire to not only make you as happy as possible, but to appreciate that joy. Sometimes you got the impression making you happy pleased him almost as much as it pleased you, if not more. And it was times like these you felt bad you weren’t really able to make a commitment to him. He never seemed to mind it all too much, but you can tell it’s something he wants, and you almost feel like you’re taking advantage of his affection–but he knows, and you know, and if he isn’t happy with this arrangement, surely he’d say something.

But Bucky has to bite back the retort, “Well, not that drug.”

After a hearty meal you only put down when you feel you’re genuinely on the verge of passing out, you push away your plate. “Woo! I don’t know how I’m ever gonna work that off. I think I’ve gained, like, 10.”

“You're perfect the way you are,” Bucky says, leaning down to press his lips to your cheek as he clears the table.

You close your eyes and hum in delight, but you find it a little hard to open them again. When you manage to pry your eyes open again, it’s not much, still looking at the table through droopy lids. You stand and sway, rattling your chair as you grapple the table for support.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks as he reappears in your line of sight, brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah,” you respond, squeezing your eyes shut and ripping them open again. “But I really should get going.”

“Get going?” he repeats, moving to your side for support as you stumble forward. “I don’t think you should drive right now.”

But you dismiss him with a wave of your hand, pushing off of him to stand up straight. You think you say, “I’m fine. I’ll call you.” but you can’t really make out the words through the slight slurring.

“Lie down,” he offers gently, taking a step towards his bedroom.

“No…” you tear your arm free of his grasp. You had spent the night with him before, but for a reason you can’t figure out, this time, something is screaming at you to decline.

“Really, darling, you need to,” he insists, his voice having dropped to a low murmur. He takes a step forward and you instinctively take a step back, feeling a little guilty when he stops dead in his tracks and something like hurt flashes across his features. You know something that makes Bucky wince is when he feels someone is afraid of him, and you can only imagine how he must feel now if you’re the one displaying apprehension.

You shake your head and turn away from him to the doorway.

“Hey...” You startle as you feel his grip on your forearm, gentle, but firm. “You’re not leaving.” The words are said in a sincerely concerned way, but the fact the statement came off as more of a command than a suggestion really triggers something in you.

“Bucky...” you groan as you uselessly try to pull away, feeling weaker than you otherwise would, even against him.

He doesn’t have to give too sharp of a tug to make you stumble into his arms, his hold on you steady, and, at any other time, safe, but now it feels more certain, somehow, almost possessive. You try to protest but you’re practically babbling incoherently under him, head lolled to the side as he adjusts his grip from under your arms to pick you up bridal style.

“Just lie down for a second...”

And you’re too out of it to notice he’s passed his bedroom door.

***

It’s difficult to open your eyes again, your lashes stuck together as you turn your head over. When vision slowly comes back to you, you’re met with a midcentury wooden bedside table you don’t recognise. You prop yourself up on your forearm and squint into the room, looking for any signs of familiarity, and the only thing you recognise is the thing you dread.

“What…” you begin to mutter, and Bucky looks up from the book he’s reading with a smile.

“You’re up.” He stands from the chair positioned by ‘your’ (this isn’t your bed) beside and moves to sit on the edge, placing a hand to your forehead. “How’re you feeling?”

You weakly slap his hand away as you start to really wake up and realise what’s going on.

“I’m not… this isn’t… what…” you can’t really find the words to ask the questions you need answers to.

“It’s your Christmas present!” he says with a grin, standing to make a grand gesture with his arms, out to the room. I’ve got your favourite books here, I remember you telling me you used to want a four poster princess bed.” He points to the ceiling and sure enough, pretty curtains hang over your head. “But if you don’t like it I can change it.” He shrugs and stands somewhat nervously as he waits for you to react.

“What… the fuck.”

He tsks and swings his arms back and forth, rocking on his heels.

“I set it up for you a few weeks ago, I didn’t know if you’d be comfortable sleeping with me every night, I know you like your space.”

“Are you out of your mind!?” You throw the sheets off of you and manage to stand, even though your head feels a little heavy.

He sighs and steps forward. “I know it feels like–”

“Oh, you know what it feels like? You know what it feels like to be ostensibly kidnapped by your boyfriend?”

He blushes. “So I am your boyfriend.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” You throw a pillow at him (ineffective but it was the nearest thing) which he catches with ease and turns over to reveal an embroidered flower. “I made this,” he says, proudly.

“What the fuck!?” you shriek as you throw another pillow at him, this one he dodges easily.

You’ve never seen him like this, nearly giddy and, in this context, borderline delusional. It makes you grip onto your hair and bunch your fingers into the locks. “Oh, my god, you’re insane!”

“I’m not the one yelling and throwing things,” he mutters, and your eyes snap up to his.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you begin, exasperated. “I’m so fucking sorry I don’t react well to crimes committed against me.”

“You came into my house.”

“Yes, but I didn’t come into this room! Do you really expect me to believe I can just leave anytime? That that door isn’t locked. You think I’m fucking stupid?”

He gently tosses the pillow back onto the bed and winces. “I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

“Bucky,” you begin, carefully, voice dangerously low as you step up to him. “I don’t know what in god’s name has gotten into you, but I’m not having it. I’m leaving.”

“Sweetheart, you really don’t intimidate me.” And the way he says it with such sincere pity makes you shove at his chest. He doesn’t stumble, but he takes a step back for your benefit.

You match his step and poke your finger in his chest, glaring up at him with more fury than you thought you had and trying your hardest not to wrap your hand around his throat. What really pisses you off is his patronising speech; you can tell he genuinely thinks he’s doing good, and that he honestly feels bad that you can’t appreciate it, that you’re weaker than him, and it boils your blood. Apathy or even mockery would be better than this condescending way he’s deluded himself into believing this is for your benefit.

“Don’t call me sweetheart, you piece of shit. If that door is locked, you’re gonna unlock it, and you’re going to leave me the fuck alone.” You practically spit the words at him through gritted teeth, seething to the point you can feel heat radiating from your body and wouldn’t be surprised if there was literal steam coming out of your ears.

“Sit down, angel.”

“Talk to me like that again and there will be nothing angelic about what I do to you.”

“Your mother called.”

That gets your attention and your anger dissipates for a moment. “Really? What did she say?”

When he guides you to sit down, you’re not really in the space to fight him off, waiting to hear any news from your family.

“They’re coming down in a few days, for New Year’s, and, they’re bringing your sister–they say she’s stable enough for travel.”

You feel your eyes begin to water at the thought of your sister being that strong, of being able to talk to her like you used to, before she got sick. But you snap out of it, and that swelling in your heart turns to something close to anxiety, but closer to suspicion. “Why are you telling me this?”

He scoffs as if you’re asking him if the sky is blue. “Because I know you want to see them. I told them they could stay with us for a few days.”

“With us?”

He just blinks. “Yes, with us.”

“You must be out of your fucking mind if you think…” And the next few hours are spent with you screaming in his face, swinging punches which he easily dodges, but sometimes he humours you and allows you a hit–not like it hurts anyway. His calm demeanour and ‘care’ makes you infuriated beyond belief, and by the end of the night the room has been trashed, there are scratches on the door from your desperate clawing and pounding, your voice is hoarse from all the yelling, and you’re exhausted while Bucky is no more beaten than when you first woke up.

Eventually, you’ve physically exhausted yourself so much you can’t even push him away when he climbs into bed next to you and holds you in his arms, placing your head against his chest and caressing your hair, which he knows always relaxes you and helps you fall asleep.

***

You only know it’s morning when you wake up because Bucky greets you with it, but it doesn’t take long for your attention to fall to the walls, noticing there aren’t any windows.

“We’re in the basement, you know.” Bucky comments, watching your eyes dart around the room and catching on to what you’re doing. “I don’t have a spare room, you know that.”

You’re nearly tired of glaring daggers at him seeing as he doesn’t really feel it–if anything, it seems to spur him on, like he doesn’t really care what you do as long as he gets some kind of reaction out of you. If you remained as stoic as he did, maybe that would give him pause for thought, but you really can’t resist the urge to attack him, and he somehow sees it as endearing, like any attention you give him makes his heart swell.

Initially, you refuse his invitation for breakfast upstairs, but when that morning grumpiness subsides, you let your stubbornness fall away in favour of opportunity. This really solidifies in your mind Bucky is so convinced you’ll stay that he doesn’t really worry about turning his back on you as he flips an egg.

“Where’re you going?”

You stop dead in your tracks, shocked he had heard you get up when you were practically sneaking like a cartoonish villain.

“To the bathroom,” you lie, to which he responds with a simple, “Okay.”

It’s too easy, but you’d rather take your chances than wonder if this is some kind of setup. You have to get out of here as soon as possible, so you don’t have time to look for your car keys, but you hesitate at the door. It’s beginning to snow, and you’re not dressed anywhere near enough to make it to a neighbour–the only thing that had kept you warm before coming up to see him was that nice coat, but it’s not on the rack anymore.

There’re only a few locks you have to turn to quietly open the door, your teeth chattering as a cold breeze hits you so hard it’s painful, like your skin is literally freezing onto your bones. You’re barefoot, no less. You can’t kid yourself into thinking you won’t lose a toe or some extremities in the process, but you can not stay. It really has only been one night, but something you’ve never liked in your life is being trapped, makes your skin crawl to the point you’d rather shed it than be deprived of freedom, especially when you’ve got the chance to see your family soon. And besides, it’s really not that long of a walk to the next house, you won’t die out there, but you can only vaguely make it out through the snow, and if you scream, it’ll surely be drowned by the harsh winds. With one last glance behind you, you step into the snow, and instantly regret it, your feet set close to frozen in just a few seconds, and goosebumps rising so quickly across your skin it feels like you’ve suddenly broken out in hives. And just as you consider turning back, you’re shoved forward, and you shriek as you land face first in the snow, afraid of crying at the impact lest your tears turn to ice right on your cheeks.

You’re gripped by the arm and pulled upright, before being again pushed further away from the house you can feel radiating warmth just through the open door. You gasp for air as you manage to bring yourself to your hands and knees, fingers curling into the snow and slowly becoming numb. A harsh gust blows, nearly knocking you off balance, and you squint to look up at the door, Bucky standing before you in little more than a long-sleeved t-shirt (he’s more underdressed than you) and sweatpants, hair still a little messy with sleep, but the look in his eyes, it’s a look you’ve never been on the receiving end of–in fact, you’ve never even seen it, but you can recognise it immediately.

“You forget I’m the Winter Soldier.” You’re not sure how his deep growl manages to carry across the howling of the winds, but you don’t have time to figure it out before a metal hand grips a fistful of your hair and you’re dragged through the snow, instinctively trying to plant your feet in the ground to stop him but even if you could match his strength, the cold is unbearable, and your legs are starting to feel numb, yet still stiff.

You don’t have time to be grateful that you’ve been thrown back into warmth as you slide across the floor and Bucky kicks the door shut behind him. From a hallway table, he pulls out a wrench, and you struggle to get your arms and legs to move away from him as he approaches you, menacingly.

You don’t know how such slow and heavy footsteps manage to catch up to you so quickly, but soon he’s got his boot pressing down on your ankle, preventing you from doing more than thrashing around. He leans down and grips your face roughly, forcibly pulling you up to meet him, and his eyes are so void of emotion he nearly looks dead. He doesn’t look angry, he looks like he just can’t feel.

“I do all this for you, and you can’t even offer me a pretty little smile.” His large fingers reach into your mouth, pulling your lips and teeth apart wide, wide enough for him to shove the wrench into your mouth and attach it to one of your teeth. “You don’t know what you have until it’s gone. Maybe you’ll appreciate it more if it just wasn’t the same.” You feel your gum twist and let out a cry, gurgling through your throat. Your frail fingers grasp onto his wrist as you desperately try to shake your head, but his strong hold prevents you from it. He twists a little more and you squeeze your eyes shut, holding your breath, before he eventually pulls out and you gasp for dear life, tears stinging your vision.

He roughly tugs you up and practically throws you into a nearby chair, before taking your hand with surprising gentleness, caressing your hurting fingers with the back of his for a moment before adjusting his grip to bring the wrench back forward.

“Now this is no good…” he remarks, moving his head to see more of your frostbitten marks you’re sure will leave scars. “You know what happens to these?” The wrench attacks itself to your index finger and Bucky adjusts its width so it’s threatening to chop your finger right off.

You scream at him to let go, kicking at his legs gets no reaction out of him, but don’t dare to move the hand he’s still holding.

“What if I just…” He twists only slightly and your skin breaks, blood seeping down from your frayed skin and dripping onto your thigh.

Just as you’re about to let out an unstoppable shriek of pain, Bucky’s metal hand presses to your mouth, stopping the sound going any further than echoing off his palm for only you to hear again. He twists more and you move your wrist with it, trying anything to stop him from twisting your finger off. He notices this and removes his other hand from your mouth to hold your wrist firmly in place.

“Bucky, please–”

“Shut up!” he shouts, his hold on you tightening even further. He lowers his face to yours with wide eyes, jaw clenched impossibly tight, and speaks in a dangerously low register, his voice trembling with fury as he tries to hold it together, at least in demeanour if not in action. “You really fucked up, and if you don’t have any fingers, you won’t be able to open my door ever again.”

✪

[my beloved taglist: @cowboysnbugs, @keito-123, @vogueprincess, @cjand10, @mybabygirllove]

[winterarmyy]

Just a passing thought but what if dark!stalker!bucky is infatuated with this lovely girl who he often sees at the local library…

He never approached her, of course. God, no. How can he? He was literally dripped with the vibe of a ‘serial killer’, dark and brood and dangerous and she was just everything soft and sweet. She’d be running scared if he approached her first. So he decided to be patient, to wait for the bunny to walk into the wolf’s den on her own. Though, that didn’t stop Bucky from watching her in the shadows, or sending death threats to all the men she went on dates with, or setting up hidden cameras all over her apartment. 

Bucky made himself comfortable on his bed, fingers lazily tapping on his phone, checking each camera to make sure none of them were out of order. “Perfect. Now, where’s my sweet bunny?”

Honestly, Bucky never expected anything from this, oh who was he kidding? He was kinda expecting to see her curled up in her comfy chair, buried behind a book like how he often sees her in the library and maybe see her spend hours on rubbing her skin with those perfumed moisturizer because she always smelled so fucking good.

I mean, he did see those things, but more. So much more. And he was not ready for it. He didn’t know why it never came across his mind, maybe because of how soft and sweet she was acting with other people but…. there she was; doing the weirdest, silliest, quirkiest, stupid things when she's alone.

Bucky is so baffled and confused at first; like how did this shy and quiet girl just change completely? Oh, but he loves it. He can’t remember the last time he laughed this loud, this genuine. Not since he fell off that train, not when he reunited with Steve just to be left alone again. 

Now? God damn, he laughs every day. Now, he is rolling on his bed, tears threaten to spill out from the corners of his eyes.

He just witnessed how she abruptly threw the knife and carrot in her hands at the sound of the Samsung washing machine going off from a distance. She glided and slid her way to the laundry room, as if drawn to the rhythmic beep. Her face was set with utmost seriousness, but her body began to sway, moving with the same well-choreographed dance that she always performed when lost in her own little world of domestic rhythms.

Her movements were both precise and fluid, a blend of graceful steps and playful spins while maintaining the same laser-focused expression on her face. She twirled in time with the washing machine’s vibrations, as if the appliance had its own secret beat that only she could hear. When the song ended, she straightened up and walked back to the kitchen. 

She picked up the knife and carrot with the same efficiency as before, seamlessly returning to the task of prepping her veggies as if the dance had never happened at all. 

Yeah, sure. Bucky jerked off to her some nights; of course he would . Especially when she was moaning and whimpering so sweetly as she played with her clit. But this? The random crazy shit she does? He loves to see it.

Fuck, he loves her.

“Oh, bunny. Looks like I’m gonna need to chase you now that you refuse to come to me.”

Just a thought tho...

[nicestgirlonline]

Let Me Hear You Scream

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT AHEAD! 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI! language, threatening situations, DUB CON, horror elements

Word count: 3.8k

Summary: It’s the 90s so you actually answer the phone when you’re watching movies

a/n: Happy Halloween yall!!!! Still working on other projects but really wanted to get something out for Halloween! This was for @witchywithwhiskey’s Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon! the prompts I picked were Scream and “I’m your boyfriend now” Hope you all enjoy!!!! Thanks for reading, I’d love your feedback! Reblogs and comments are love <3

1993. A sleepy suburban town, where nothing exciting ever happens. Friday night.

Your friends were all going out to Wanda’s party, but you were stuck housesitting for your aunt. Your mom had promised you would house sit weeks ago, so you couldn’t get off the hook. It was a big empty house, more rooms than your aunt could ever need. Most were filled up with storage and dust bunnies.

You tried to make the best of the boring night-in. You rented some Meg Ryan movies with plans to completely veg out. You ordered an extra large pizza with all of your favorite toppings and raided your aunts pantry for snacks.

You glanced down at your shirt and saw red. Pizza sauce! Blooming red circle right in the center of your cream sweater. You let out a huff of frustration. Some Friday night.

You changed into comfy nightwear--a baby blue cotton gown that brushed the very top of your knees, along with a pair of fluffy bunny slippers for good measure. You settled back down in front of the TV.

RING. RING. RING.

You picked up the phone, squeezing it between your ear and shoulder as you carried your snacks over to the kitchen.

“Hello,” you used your best fake customer service voice. Your aunt had asked you to take down any messages. She must have a new boyfriend she was hoping would call. You wait for a response but all you can hear is low breaths through the receiver. “Hello?” You try again

“Is this Sidney?” The voice was weirdly distorted and hard to place. It was deep, clearly a man’s voice.

“Sorry, wrong number dude.” You hung up before he could let another word out. You set the phone down by the cradle and go back to making your snacks. You got out the big popcorn bowl.

The phone rang out again. “Hello?” You answered. You really hadn’t expected to be fielding this many phone calls.

“Hey. Did I call you earlier?” It was the same strange voice. You blew some air through your lips, how annoying.

“Sidney’s not here. Have a good night--”

“Aw man. She must have given me a fake number. I don’t mean to bother you over and over tonight.” He sighed, sounding very apologetic.

“No worries. Have a good night.”

“Wait, wait. I like the sound of your voice.”

You paused. Was it totally weird to just chat with this guy? Yeah. But what harm could it be? You felt a bit of a flutter in your stomach. You never had talked to a stranger over the phone like this. It felt clandestine! You decided to go with it.

“Better than Sidney’s?” You asked, trying to make your voice sound as flirty as possible. You heard him hum approval.

“Much better than…let’s not talk about her. What are you doing tonight?” There was something very familiar about his voice. There was a crackle and static that made it so you couldn’t quite make it out. It must be a shitty connection.

“I was having a movie night. I’m making some snacks right now.” You started to curl the phone cord around your finger.

“What are you watching, Pumpkin? Something scary?”

“No way. I hate scary movies.”

“Especially not when you’re alone right?”

“Uh - um - I’m not alone. Actually.” You lied. How did he know you were alone? Was he just guessing?

“Scary movies are always scarier when you’re all alone, in a big empty house, that’s in the middle of nowhere,” he continued.

A shiver went down your spine. That was a bit too accurate. But there's no way he could possibly know where you were. It was a phone call!

“I just don’t like them. It's either some creepy slasher stabbing some big boobed blonde through her white t-shirt or a ghost that's a metaphor for trauma. No thank you,” you sighed.

“I think you’re being a little hard on them. Maybe if you watched them with a guy to cling to you’d like them more. Do you have a boyfriend?”

There it was. Obviously the alone comment was him trying to set the mood.

“Why do you want to know? Already over Sidney?” You teased him.

“Answer the question.” He was very serious. You didn’t like the tone he had.

“Yes, I do. Are you going to hang up?” You lied again, trying to call his bluff.

“You don’t have a boyfriend. What are you wearing? Something cute and virginal? What about your underwear?” You pulled the phone away from your ear in shock. You were officially too skeeved out. This wasn’t some poor guy who got slipped a fake number. He was a weirdo!

“Ok perv, I’m over this. Bye.”

“I wouldn’t hang up Y/N.” His voice was suddenly hostile. He spat each syllable out filled with hatred. Your blood ran cold. Your heart started to race. How would he possibly know your name?

“Is this a prank? Not very funny. Is this you Tony?” Your voice shook with fear.

“Who’s Tony? That your boyfriend?” He snarled.

“This is a really bad joke. Did someone put you up to this? Scott? Knock it off now!”

“Jesus you’ve got a lot of men in your life. Are you trying to make me jealous or something? I don’t like sharing.”

“I’m serious, this is a bad joke, so just give it up already.” You cried out, you looked around, making sure you were still totally alone.

“I don’t give up so easily. Do you, Pumpkin? Do you give it up to any guy who looks in your direction? I bet you do, you slut. That's why you're talking to a guy you don’t know while you’re all alone.”

“I’m hanging up, I already told you I’m not alone. My boyfriend is here! He’s big and he plays football. S-so don’t call back ok?” You tried to sound as forceful as possible but your lips wobbled and you tripped over your words.

“Pumpkin, you’re lying to me. You’re all alone in that big house in the middle of nowhere, wearing that skanky nightgown. I can see your nipples poking through this whole time. You’re so turned on by a psycho on the phone, huh?”

You let out a scream. You slammed the phone down, hanging it up. You started to spin a circle looking at all the windows, trying to see if you could see somebody watching you. You ran to the front door to make sure they were locked. You went window by window locking them and shutting the curtains. You took a chair from the kitchen and dragged it in front of the door, jamming it beneath the door knob.

RING RING RING RING

You looked around, trying to remember where all of the doors were in the house. You spun around running to the kitchen entrance. You double checked the lock and put the chain on the door. You slid down the door with your back pressing against it trying to catch your breath.

This wasn’t real. This had to be some fucked up prank. The guys were all too hyped up for Halloween and wanted to get a scare out of you. The ringing stopped and you heard the voicemail click, your aunt's outgoing message began to play.

“You screening your calls, skank? You’re gonna die, you little whore! I’m gonna see what your insides look like --” You picked up the phone just to end the message and slammed it back down. As you scampered away it fell down, swinging from the cord. You take off up the stairs, stumbling up the stairs.

You dash into the guest room you had been staying in. You quickly locked the door. Your hands were shaking still. How was this happening?

The window started to jiggle. You could hear the groaning old wood start to slide. With nothing better to arm yourself with you grabbed a pillow and started to wildly smack the intruder with all you could.

“Whoa whoa whoa, it’s me -- it’s me!” Bucky Barnes, your classmate, was gripping the window sill, flabbergasted from the pillow. You hadn’t even had time to register who it was before you attacked.

“Bucky? What the fuck are you doing here?” You demanded. This proved to you it had to be some kind of a prank. Why else would Bucky Barnes, the moody guy from your film class be climbing up to your room.

“Well, when you said you were busy tonight I thought I could just surprise you? Like a grand romantic gesture or something? Can you um, let me in? It's actually kind of cold.” He was shivering out there. He looked so earnest it tugged on your heart just a bit.

You motioned for him to come in. He heaved his body up, awkwardly crawling through the tight window then falling to the ground. He sprang back up quickly, smiling at you.

“Is this a prank? Are you in on this with the other guys or something?” You crossed your arms.

“Um, other guys? Are there other guys here? I thought I was being original.” He peered around you as if to look for them. You rolled your eyes.

“The phone calls Bucky. I’m not joking around.”

“What phone calls? I’ve been driving all night to get here from campus, then shimmying up some ivy. Haven’t exactly had any time to stop at a payphone. You know what. This was a bad idea, I can see that, I’ll just leave.” He sheepishly put his hands in his pockets as he crouched down to leave the way he came.

“No, no wait!” You grabbed him, keeping him from going outside. If it wasn’t Bucky then there was still a psycho out there! “I don’t know what's going on, but this weird guy kept calling me, and he was watching me! Like I think he was outside the house or something.”

“Calm down, calm down. I was just outside. There's nobody out there. It was probably just a prank call.”

He started to rub your back with slow soothing circles. It was intimate in a way you weren’t used to from Bucky. He was the quiet one, never really hung out unless Steve was around. His palm pressed into your lower back, holding you closer to him. His other hand cupped the back of your head, guiding you into the crook of his neck.

“You’re getting so worked up. Maybe you should just lie down.” He shushed you as you tried desperately to explain it wasn’t a prank call. He guided the two of you down to the bed. He laid down next to you.

“Bucky…why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you, I thought you knew…isn’t it obvious how I feel about you?”

Your head was spinning. Bucky liked you? He barely even talked to you! When he casually asked if you were going to Wanda’s party you assumed it was just small talk. He had grunted and left the second you told him you were busy.

“I think I should call the cops about this--”

“I’m here aren’t I? I’ll keep you safe.” His lips connected with yours silencing you from responding. His kiss was eager, but still so gentle. He slowly moved his lips against yours, basking in the taste of you. He took his time and slowly you could feel his tongue ghosts against your bottom lip, looking for entrance.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, the shock, or maybe Bucky was just an extremely good kisser, but you quickly fell under the spell of the kiss. You let yourself get lost kissing him, trying to forget the phone call prankster that had been terrorizing you.

Fear was still racking through your body, but Bucky felt safe. You tangled your hands in his hair bringing him closer. His hand slowly traced up and down your leg. Both his hands grasped your legs, essentially pinning you down. You felt a cool air waft over your thighs as his fingers gently crept beneath your nightgown.

He cupped you over your underwear, grabbing the elastic and letting it snap back against your skin. You finally broke free of the kiss to gasp. He sat back on his ankles, his hand still toying with your panties.

“Bucky, I--”

“Shhh it's ok. I’m here to save the day. No one's gonna hurt you while I’m around.” He pushed aside your panties and started to slowly circle your clit. You whined as he circles you again and again, the pleasure rushing through you and pushing every thought of terror out of your brain.

He pressed his thumb against your clit and dipped his fingers inside of you. He curled his fingers, dragging more moans out of you. As he fucked you with his fingers, you tilted your hips up for more delicious friction.

“That's it my brave girl, Bucky’s here for you,” he murmured above you. He spoke with such hard conviction. His eyes were intensely boring into yours, nearly unblinking. He was no longer softly in the throws of passion. He was a man on a mission.

He kept pumping his fingers, he brought his other hand up from your leg to palm himself through his jeans. He groaned as he adjusted himself and went back to work on you. His other hand circling around your inner thigh, moving your leg up to his shoulder.

“Bucky, please, please,” you babbled as the pleasure began to mount and mount. It was nearly unbearable as you chased your release, grinding your hips up and down on his hand, riding his fingers towards that sweet relief.

“Yes, you’re doing so well, you’re perfect.” He brought his lips to your neck and began to suck at your sensitive spot. You let out a cry of pleasure as your climax flowed over you. You clamped your legs together, biting down on your lip as another cry came out.

You took a moment to catch your breath, Bucky was still nibbling on your neck. You grabbed his face and brought his lips back to yours. He eagerly responded, his lips enveloping yours.

You grabbed the underwear that you were still wearing and rolled it down your body to fling them off. You sat up and grabbed at Bucky until you found his belt. You fumbled, trying to unbuckle it. Bucky's hands quickly found yours and he brought them together, kissing both your palms. He unbuckled the belt on his own. Removing it without ceremony or flourish. He then yanked his jeans and underwear down.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“I want you so badly, Bucky,” you moaned.

He let out a strangled gasp that turned to laughter. You tilted your head at the reaction. He didn’t sound exactly happy, it was more sinister.

“I just have waited so long to hear you say that to me. I’m so happy right now,” he nearly giggled. He giddily took off his jacket, tossing it to the ground.

“Keep me distracted Bucky, ok?” You asked as you hitch your nightgown up to your waist.

“Oh yes, anything for you, Pumpkin.” He had a devilish smirk on his face as he pressed his lips to your navel, slowly kissing his way up. He grabbed your nightgown and finished taking it off. Tossed it to the side with the pile of his clothes.

He made his way up your abdomen before groping your chest with a satisfied hiss. He squeezed you roughly, making you squeak. He latched his lips onto your breast. You let out a gasp as he lightly bit down. He tended thoroughly to each breast, his wicked tongue teasing at your pebbled nipples until you were a moaning puddle.

He grasped his cock, stroking it a few times before guiding it to your folds. He brushed the head of his cock up and down your cunt, teasing it out. He pressed his forehead against yours.

“You really mean it, right? You want me?” he asked desperately.

“Yes --” Before another word could escape your lips, he entered you. His whole body shivered. He thrust the tip of his head in, easing in and out until he was fully sheathed inside of you. You moaned as the stretch burned in pleasure and pain.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he moaned, the pace he had set was blistering. You gripped his shoulders to keep yourself anchored as he hammered into you. “You’re so tight, so tight fuuuck me.”

He thrust over and over, using the heel of his hand to keep working at your clit. You scratched your hands down his back as his pumps kept hitting the perfect spot. It was torturous pleasure as he kept working up and down your clit, not giving you a moment of respite.

You came again, your body seizing up as you cried out and then falling limp, boneless back down to the bed. Bucky grabbed your hips, pulling your lower body off the bed as he raced for his own release. The slapping sounds of your bodies filled the room along with his deep, gutural breaths.

“Yes, yes, you’re mine, you’re mine, I finally have you, finally, finally…” he babbled as he slowed his pace as he fucked out his climax.

XXX

You curled next to Bucky in the big fluffy guest bed. Both of you were happily satisfied. All thoughts of strangers on the phone were gone from your head. Now it was filled with what just happened.

Hooking up with Bucky? You’d never considered it before. You weren’t sure why, he was so very cute, you thought as you gazed at his face. His eyes were dreamily staring back at you, that big smile had not left his face yet.

“So if you want to like, hang out, I have snacks and movies. We can go curl up on the couch and just completely let our brains rot.” You traced tiny circles on his chest, feeling pretty confident he’d want to stick around.

“I’d be down for a little romcom night, as long as you’re there.” He affectionately tapped your nose.

“Good because that's all I’ve got!”

The two of you got back into a semblance of your outfits, you pulled your nightgown back on, and Bucky pulled on his boxers and the white undershirt he was wearing. You snagged his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. He hummed his approval and kissed you on the cheek.

You grabbed him by the hand and pulled him along down the stairs.

“You can go grab the popcorn, I’ll put the tapes in.” You directed Bucky towards the kitchen as you made your way towards the living room.

You pass the chairs jammed in front of the doors, and you remember your panic.

You shuddered--what a mean prank to pull. What kind of psycho talks to people like that?

You slipped your arms into Bucky's jacket to wrap yourself in it. It smelled sharp and sweet from his body wash and cologne blending together. You stuck your hands in the pockets, only to feel something heavy and tube shaped. You pulled it out, curious, turning it over in your hands a few times to investigate.

It was a long cylindrical looking microphone. You assumed it was some sort of film equipment, but why would Bucky bring that along?

“Hello?” You spoke into the mic. But instead of your own voice, the same distorted, crackling voice from the phone came out.

You dropped it. It was like a hot iron in your hand.

You realized Bucky must have heard you too. Your head snapped towards the kitchen. He was walking slowly towards you, a huge chef’s knife from the kitchen was now in his hands.

“Bucky what the hell is this?” You asked, slowly backing away from him.

“I…can explain.” His grip on the knife tightened and he raised his hands in the air as if in surender, never slowing his pace towards you.

“No, I think you need to leave.” You covered your body with your arms, trying not to trip over the furniture.

“No, no, no you’re misunderstanding --” He was getting closer to you, he reached his arms out to try and grab you.

“Leave me alone!” You screamed out as you broke into a run. You made a mad dash to the front door. Bucky was close behind you.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” He cried out as you fumbled with all the locks. Your hands were shaking, you tried to remove the chain from the door but it wasn’t moving fast enough.

Bucky's arm wrapped around your waist and yanked your body into his. His hard bulge poked at your ass.

“No!!” you cried out as you started to thrash around. You quickly stilled as the sharp point of the knife began to dig into your throat.

“Let’s calm down ok. I think you’re getting too worked up again.”

“B-Bucky, just say that it’s a prank. This was all a big prank. I won’t tell anyone. Just put the knife down please.” You try desperately to reason with him. He lets out an unamused grunt.

He began to drag you away from the door. You strained your neck as far as you could to keep the pressure from the knife as minimal as possible.

“You weren’t supposed to find out. Now it’s all ruined. Fuck. Fuuuck!” He growled. Clearly enraged he started to grapple you down to the floor.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You whimpered, tears oozing from the corners of your eyes. Rolling down your cheeks in huge streaks.

“You don’t get it. You never noticed me. All I wanted was for you to notice me. I just had to grease the wheels a little bit, put on a show to make you see…that I’m the guy for you.” He looked crazed. He moved the knife from your neck to your cheek. He caressed it against your cheeks like a lover's hand.

“Bucky please…put down the knife.”

“You’re misunderstanding me, you’re trying to run away! That’s why I have the knife because you need to listen to me. You always listen to the guy with the biggest tool in the room huh? You thought I was Tony. Does he call you up at night a lot or something? Huh?!”

You were just whimpering as he ranted above you. The blunt side of the knife was pressed against your cheek, the shiny metal reflecting into your eyes.

“Well you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” The look in Bucky’s eyes was primal, like he was no longer a man. The charming smile from before was now warped and too large, his lips curling to show his teeth and gums.

“You’re scaring me. Please don’t hurt me!”

“Hurt you? I would never.” He said, not moving the knife from your face. “I’m your boyfriend now. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you again.”

He brought the knife down from your cheek slowly, the sharp tip dragging down your neck. He began to slice the top button off your nightgown.

“Now, you made such beautiful noises for me before. Let me hear you scream, Pumpkin.”

[buckrecs]

2023 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 3

masterlist | ✨- fav fics | status - completed

All of them are COMPLETE Series.

1. Galavano by @ichorai

Bucky x Reader

a series that follows the hero galvano through the events of the mcu!

2. Time (D)rift by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Dark!Bucky x Reader Apocalypse AU

The end has come and gone as you keep waiting for your own.

3. Uncontrollable by @fictional-affairs

Bucky x Widow!Reader

The year is 1992. The Winter Soldier is under HYDRA’s control, and the Red Widow is under Dreykov’s control, but when they find out their organizations are working together to have them kill each other, they decide to make a deal.

4. The Lake House by @rustytricycle

Dark!Bucky x Dark!Reader

You decide to spend the summer before Freshman year of college with two of your girlfriends at one of their parents’ lake house. It turns out that Captain America and his two best friends are staying next door. Bucky thinks you might be his perfect girl. But are you too perfect?

5. turn a blind eye by @sergeantxrogers

Bucky x Reader

The Winter Soldier was cold. Brutal. Unflinching. A machine formulated to comply. Bucky Barnes was the sun warming your skin, your happy pill. Loving him was like bittersweet liquor, sickeningly sweet when you sip, harsh and burning when you swallow.

6. Rooftop Sessions by @forever-rogue

Bucky x Therapist!Reader

Y/N is a therapist that works with war veterans that ends up meeting a mysterious stranger who asks for her help.

7. it’s all fun and games, until you catch feelings by @prettyyoungtragedy

Bucky x Reader

You’re pining after Steve and Bucky is pining after Nat, what better way to distract yourself from those two perfect humans than to distract yourselves with each other?! Fuck buddies it is then.

8. oh my delightful heart by @prettyyoungtragedy

Sequel to it’s all fun and games

Bucky Barnes is the sweetest dumbest most adoring boyfriend any girl could ever ask for... 

9. Follow My Lead by @ciarawritesmarvel ✨

Bucky x Reader

You and your new friend Wanda are enjoying a day together at the Avengers Tower, her giving you a tour around the place when you both run into the infamous Bucky Barnes. Moments later, he’s introducing you to Sam as his girlfriend and placing a kiss on your temple and you’re not sure you’ve ever been so confused in your life.

10. The Maid of Mr. Barnes by @disasterofastory

Mob!Bucky x Reader

You get a job as Mr. Barnes's maid. You heard about the notorious gangster, but since you desperately need money and a place to live, you are not in a position to be picky.

11. Guiding Light by @wkemeup ✨

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra. While you struggle to stay alive and hold your sanity, Bucky begins to lose himself to a darkness and gives into the soldier because he doesn’t know how to breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can.

12. Home | Better by @softlyspector ✨

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Bucky comes home from his second tour overseas, after a long time away from the reader.

13. Mad For You by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Nat hosts a costume masquerade. Bucky meets the Alice to his Hatter. Shenanigans ensue. 

14. Sanguis Sanguinis Mei by @captainscanadian

Vampire!Bucky x Vampire!Reader

It took Bucky Barnes two centuries with the blood of his blood to realize how much he loved her. This is their story. 

15. Another World by @sinner-as-saint

Alien!Bucky x Reader

In a futuristic world - a millennium from now, you and your team rescue and care for stranded and hurt otherworldly beings; who are held captive and kept on Earth against their wills. You save them from the bad guys who exploit them. You help them adjust to your planet’s life, and give them their freedom back. Then one day, while on a rescue mission, you come across a human-like extraterrestrial being; in a cryogenic chamber, with a missing arm. And nothing is ever the same again…

16. Picking Up The Pieces by @gogolucky13

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Bucky chooses to stay in his tumultuous relationship knowing you’ll be there to pick up the pieces, until finally you’re not.

17. Knight In Rusty Armor by @revengingbarnes ✨

Knight!Alpha!Bucky x Queen!Omega!Reader

For the sake of politics and to get rid of you, their omega daughter, the King and Queen of England marry you off to the King of France. Settling into an unfamiliar monarchy is a tedious process all by itself, but a new problem arises soon after your arrival at your new home. One of the Knights turns out to be your true mate. Your Alpha. The one you are meant to be with. But you’re mated to someone else. And that someone else is the King of France.

18. The Escaped Bride by @marvelouslytrekking

Pirate!Bucky x Reader

Being forced to marry someone was not something you wanted, but when it turns out that it is to your best friend, who you secretly loved, things weren’t so bad. Unfortunately, good things don’t seem to last and when the worst happens, you refuse to sit around and be miserable. Will you find true love again, or will your life be turned upside down?

19. Plot Twist by @winterarmyy

Mafia!Bucky x Reader

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

20. The Road Goes Ever On and On by @rocketrhap3000 ✨

Bucky x Single Mom!Reader

Life as a single mother of a three year old certainly has its struggles. But when a sweet stranger makes his way into you and your little boy’s life, a one of a kind connection sparks.

21. you’re my desire by @marvelouslizzie & @notafunkiller

40s!Bucky x Reader

Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers’ date but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes’ arms.

22. Death Do Us Part by @sgtjbuccky ✨

God Of Death!Bucky x Mortal!Reader

For centuries, the God of Death had known two things about mortals. One, they were his job, his to collect when their days came to an end, and two, they were obnoxiously odd beings. Their purpose ceased to make sense to him. Never did he understand why they created a life for themselves, why they loved, why they loved other mortals when they knew that none of it would last forever. It was nothing but sheer stupidity, but that was until he met you. A mortal unlike any other. A mortal that would make him question everything. A mortal that would teach the God of Death how to live.

23. Lost In Each Other by @majestyeverlasting ✨

Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader

For Bucky, one of the best things to come home to is family. Especially after a day at work. So he's pleasantly surprised when you want to show him a new dress after dinner one night. And it just so happens that little Eden and Jamie find a way to work themselves into the equation. But it all makes for good fun and memories you will never forget.

24. Fight For Me by @littleseasiren

Bucky x Reader

After years in an abusive relationship, you finally get out. When the Avengers decide to raise awareness for your Battered Women's Home, you bump into Bucky Barnes, the hottest, most complicated man you've ever met. He thinks you're too good for him, but when your abusive ex reappears, Bucky knows he has to keep you safe - by any means necessary.

25. call me baby by @cherryrogers ✨

Biker!Bucky x Reader

Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker, and when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either — that was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.

26. Static Verse by @theconstantsidekick ✨

Bucky x Enhanced!Reader

Tony Stark's sister's a fucking badass, codename—Static. Here's her story through the MCU.

27. Bygone by @borntobewondering

Bucky x Reader

You and Peter get sent back in time, and you fall in love with someone unexpected.

28. Clockwork by @aries-writingblog ✨

Bucky x Reader

Bucky has moved on. He’s found a place in the new world of the 21st Century. Found peace. But the past is always half a step behind him, waiting to snatch him backwards- like clockwork.

29. Deny the truth, set the world on fire by @lizatill

Bucky x Reader, Dark!Winter Soldier x Reader

He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember.

30. Carnations by @viollettes

Bucky x Reader College AU

It’s a simple concept: Students can buy flowers for each other at the carnation sale. Red flowers are for love, pink flowers are for friendship, and white flowers are for expressing secret admiration. A carnation fundraiser, an iota of possibility, and a longtime secret crush on your hot best friend - what could go wrong?

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 19

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Dark, Mystery, Betrayal.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

“Don’t you dare take the medicine they gave you!”

Your voice came out sharp, panic twisting every syllable. Your hands gripped the hospital bed's railing so tightly your knuckles turned white.

Ransom frowned. “What the fuck is going on? You’re freaking me out.”

“This will be the third time.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “Ransom… My dad was diagnosed with cancer here by Dr. Stark. Almost a year of chemotherapy and medication. But I kept noticing something—cancer patients always seek second opinions. So I took him to see Alan.”

Ransom’s jaw clenched. He knew that name. Alan was a top-tier specialist, the kind people flew across the world to see.

You took a shaky breath and continued, “And my friend—misdiagnosed, too. The first doctor told him he wouldn’t be able to use his hand for six months. Then the second doctor checked and said it was bullshit—his injury wasn’t even that severe.”

Ransom’s stomach twisted. His back was already screaming in pain, but now a new fear crept in—was he even injured as badly as they claimed? Were they experimenting on him?

“That’s terrifying,” he muttered. His voice dropped lower. “I don’t want to fucking die because of this.”

You grabbed his wrist, your fingers pressing into his skin. “I’m afraid too. I don’t want you to become their test subject.”

Ransom exhaled sharply, then nodded. He squeezed your hand, his grip firm, steady. “Get me the fuck out of here.”

You didn’t hesitate. “I will.”

His gaze flickered with something unreadable before he added, “You should come with me.”

You shook your head. “I can’t.”

“Are you nuts?” His voice was sharper now, laced with frustration.

You exhaled. “Ransom, I have something to deal with.”

He was about to argue, but then you said it.

“The audit is incomplete. Needs an extra review.”

Ransom froze. His expression hardened. He wasn’t stupid—he knew exactly what that meant.

It was a code. A system you both had built working in finance, a way to alert each other when things got dangerous. Because let’s be real—most people with obscene amounts of money were crooked, and sometimes, that meant walking into situations that could get you killed.

This was Code One: "I’ve got an investigation going on. I’ll call you when I need help."

His jaw tightened, his blue eyes searching yours. “You sure?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

Without another word, you turned and made a call. Right now, you were grateful you’d left this town and built connections that could make things happen with a single request.

Exactly one hour later, the sound of whirring blades filled the sky. A medical helicopter descended onto the hospital’s landing pad.

Ransom smirked as he sat up, wincing at the pain but pushing through it. “I’m only one call away.”

You met his gaze, your lips pressing together. “I knew I could count on you.”

As the helicopter doors slid shut, you stepped back, watching as the aircraft lifted off the ground and disappeared into the sky.

“Why did he leave so suddenly? He still needs treatment,” Bucky’s voice came from behind you.

You didn’t turn around. “His mother sent the helicopter for him.”

“Oh.” There was a pause, then Bucky asked, “You’re not going with him?”

You finally turned, shaking your head. “I can’t.”

His eyes studied you carefully.

“I’ll be staying to continue the deal.”

A small, satisfied smirk curled at the corner of Bucky’s lips. “Good. I assure you, your bank won’t regret investing in this town. Especially with the new hospital—it’ll help a lot of people.”

“And your dad could come back and get treated here.”

You froze mid-step at the mention of your father. Your fingers curled slightly at your sides. “Yeah.”

Bucky hummed, watching you. “Are you heading home?”

“Yup.”

There was a pause. He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… so, actually—”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“I was planning a surprise.”

Your stomach dropped. “What did you do, Bucky?”

His smirk deepened. “Well… I decided to renovate your house.”

Your jaw nearly hit the floor. “What the fuck?!”

Bucky lifted his hands in defense. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. But don’t worry—it's all on me.”

“What gave you the right to renovate my home without my permission? Or my dad’s?”

He didn’t flinch, staying perfectly calm. “Did you forget your dad agreed to give me the funeral home when he retired?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Yeah? But he’s not retired yet.”

“I bought it.”

The words hit you like a punch. Your mouth went dry. “So all this time… my dad’s just been living there for free?”

Bucky exhaled, his expression unreadable. “It’s… yeah. And I have no problem with that. I would never force Tom or you to leave.”

You swallowed hard, heart pounding as you turned on your heel and headed toward your house.

He wasn’t joking.

The second you arrived, your stomach twisted. Construction workers were everywhere. The house had been completely renovated—even your room. Fresh paint, new furniture, everything different from what you remembered. It was like walking into someone else’s home.

You rubbed your temples. “Where the hell am I supposed to live now?”

Bucky stood beside you, unfazed. “You can stay at the hotel again.”

A deep sigh left your lips. “Fine.”

His smirk returned. “This one’s on me too. I’ll give you the best suite in the hotel.”

You shot him a pointed look. “You better.”

As you made your way downstairs, something caught your eye—a dusty old photo frame sitting on a table. You stepped closer, your breath hitching.

It was a picture of your mother.

The first time you’d ever seen one.

Other kids were in the photo, kids who were obviously older now. Your gaze traveled over their faces—there was a boy who looked like Bucky, which had to be Alex, then Tony, the mayor, and Mr. Rogers. And then, at the very back of the group, barely fitting into the frame, was your father.

Like an outcast.

Your mother, on the other hand, stood at the center like a queen, beautiful and radiant. It made you wonder—why did she choose your dad?

She could have had anyone.

“Don’t worry about Tony.” Bucky’s voice cut through your thoughts. He must have assumed you were staring at Tony in the photo. “I’ll make sure he gets what he deserves.”

You glanced at him, nodding. “Thanks.”

That night, your new hotel suite was undeniably luxurious. Soft sheets, the perfect temperature, the best accommodations money could buy.

And yet, you would have preferred your old home.

What made it worse?

Bucky leaned casually against the doorway and smirked. “If you need anything, just knock. My room’s right next door.”

Your stomach sank.

Shit.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

A sharp knock echoed through the room.

You sighed, glancing at the door. If it was Bucky, you’d pretend you didn’t hear it. But when you peeked through the spy hole, relief washed over you—it was Jake Jensen.

You quickly unlocked the door and pulled him inside before he could even finish saying, “Hi—”

“Oh…” He blinked, adjusting his glasses. “I heard what happened to your friend. I’m sorry.”

“He’s fine.” You shut the door behind him. “Please tell me you’ve got something.”

Jake hesitated. He had the information you needed—you could see it in his eyes. But something was off.

“Yes.” His tone was uncertain.

Your stomach tightened. “But…?”

“I think it’s better if you meet my mother instead.”

Your brows furrowed. “Why?”

Jake scratched the back of his neck. “She wants to meet you.”

You exhaled sharply. Of course. Miss Gossip herself.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Sloane sat in her worn armchair, knitting with steady, practiced hands. The dim lighting of the small parlor cast long shadows, giving the place an eerie, timeless feel. She barely glanced up as you and Jake entered, but you could tell—she already knew you were there.

With a quiet sigh, she adjusted her glasses and let her sharp gaze travel from your head to your toes.

“No matter what she did, you still look like her.”

You raised an eyebrow, cautiously taking a seat on the couch nearest to her. “You mean my mother?”

“Yes.” Her voice was calm but laced with something deeper—something knowing.

You exchanged a glance with Jake before turning back to her. “I heard from Jake that you have information about Stark and the mayor.”

Sloane gave a small nod, her fingers still working the yarn as if the conversation meant nothing. “It all comes back to your mother. Luna.”

Your stomach twisted at the name. “What did my mother do that made everyone in this town hate my dad and me?”

Sloane chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “It’s not hate, child. It’s fear. Guilt has a way of turning into fear.”

You swallowed. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, setting her knitting down for the first time. “It all started the moment she arrived in this town.”

“Arrived?” You frowned.

“You probably don’t know this, but your mother was adopted.”

Your breath caught in your throat. A cold chill ran down your spine, and for a moment, you thought you misheard her. The room suddenly felt smaller, like the walls were closing in.

Sloane watched your reaction carefully. “Judging by your face, I was right. You didn’t know.”

You could only shake your head.

She leaned forward slightly. “Your mother was adopted by the previous mortician—your step-grandparents.”

Jake shifted uncomfortably beside you, clearly as shocked as you were.

“It happened fifty years ago,” Sloane continued. “A car accident on the outskirts of town. A young couple died on impact, but their child—Luna—survived. She was only three years old.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

“The ones who took her in were your grandparents. They saw her as a blessing, a miracle, because they couldn’t have children of their own. And in a town like this, adoption was difficult—there were hardly any orphaned children. Even when there were, no child wanted to live in a funeral home.”

Sloane smirked slightly. “It scared them.”

You swallowed hard, your hands clenching into fists on your lap.

“But Luna… she was different. Your grandparents gave her everything—beautiful clothes, the best toys. They finally have a daughter so they spoiled her to death. And everyone noticed. Every child was jealous of her. And when she grew up, she became the most beautiful girl in town.”

Your voice came out quieter than you expected. “This is when she met Alex, right?”

Sloane nodded. “Not just him. Everyone. Everyone wanted to be her friend, to be near her. But they were jealous, too.”

She exhaled, eyes distant, as if recalling an old memory. “She was beautiful, just like her name. Like a goddess of the moon. People couldn’t look away. Men were drawn to her—sometimes against their better judgment.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Did they…?”

A grim expression crossed Sloane’s face. “Sadly, yes. More than one man tried. And their eyes… they never hid their lust when they looked at her.”

Your stomach churned.

“Alex,” Sloane said after a beat, ���Bucky’s father… I remember him and Luna being a power couple. But he was possessive. He had to be—his closest friends wanted her, too.”

Your lips parted slightly. “You mean the other three? Including Mr. Rogers?”

Sloane scoffed. “That man? Please. He could only admire her from afar.”

She sighed, setting her knitting aside completely. “One day, Luna broke up with Alex. And she chose Tom instead.”

“Why?” you asked, almost breathless.

Sloane’s next words made your entire world tilt.

“Because she found out the truth.”

Your body tensed. “The truth?”

Sloane’s gaze locked onto yours, unflinching. “About the car accident that killed her parents.”

You felt the blood drain from your face. “Alex was involved?”

“No. But his father was.” She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. “Along with the other fathers in their little gang.”

Your breath hitched, your hands gripping the armrests of the couch. Your heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst.

Sloane’s voice was quiet but razor-sharp. “Bucky is just like his father. And Alex? Just like his father. Like father like son. They were reckless. Popular. Untouchable. They drove like they owned the roads, ignoring every warning. The sheriff tried to stop them, told them not to drive under the influence.” She scoffed. “They didn’t listen.”

Your mind reeled. It all made sense now—why your mother left Alex, why your family was treated like outsiders.

Your mother’s real parents were killed by Alex’s father and his friends.

No wonder she couldn’t stay with him.

No wonder they feared you and your father.

You exhaled shakily. “And my dad?”

Sloane smiled faintly. “Ah, Tom. The quiet one. He was a runaway, just a lost boy. Your grandfather took him in, trained him to be a mortician. Nobody noticed him.”

Your chest tightened. “And when he got close to Luna?”

“He became their favorite punching bag.”

A deep, aching anger twisted inside you. Your nails dug into your palm.

Sloane studied you carefully. “Do you want to know why she truly chose him?”

You shook your head, but she told you anyway.

“Because he was the only man in town who didn’t look at her with lust. He respected her. Gave her space.”

She also chose Tom so her future children wouldn’t inherit her beauty. Luna saw her beauty as a curse. She doesn't want her child to suffer like her. But if she were still alive, she would be disappointed that her plan had failed. Look at your daughter now, Luna, Sloane thought as she watched you step into her house. She’s not as beautiful as you, but she carries the same confidence—the kind that draws everyone in, just like you did.

You inhaled sharply.

“That’s why they fear you,” Sloane continued. “Every time they see you or Tom, they remember what they did to her. And to him.”

Your jaw clenched. Every piece of the puzzle fit perfectly now, and it only made you hate this town more.

Sloane leaned back. “Now, about Stark. You should know—he was obsessed with your mother.”

You barely had time to process that before she dropped another bombshell.

“And the mayor?” She smirked. “Everyone knows he’s corrupt. But what people don’t talk about is the fact that he’s Thor’s real father.”

Your mouth fell open. “What?”

Jake finally spoke, his voice low. “Wait… how do you know all this?”

Sloane chuckled, picking up her knitting again. “Honey, I own a hair salon. My mother owned it before me. Do you know what that means?” She raised an eyebrow. “I hear everything. And let me tell you something—rumors? They’re always based on truth.”

Jake sighed, rubbing his temples. “Mom…”

“What about Natasha?” you asked.

Sloane’s mood soured instantly. “That snobby brat. She insulted my salon. I never liked her.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “Thank you for telling me all this. But why now? Why are you helping me?”

Sloane grinned. “Because I heard you’re rich.”

Jake groaned. “Mom!”

You blinked, caught off guard.

Sloane shrugged. “I also saw your car.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. At least this made things easier. “What do you want, Mrs. Jensen?”

Sloane’s eyes gleamed. “A cruise. Around the world.”

Jake buried his face in his hands. “Mom, stop. You’re embarrassing me.”

You chuckled, standing up and extending your hand. “You got it, Sloane. I’ll book you the best cruise money can buy. You won’t ever want to leave the ship.”

Sloane smirked, holding up the business card between her fingers. “This is what I’m talking about.”

You reached into your wallet, pulled out another card, and handed it to her. “Call this number. Give them my name. Then tell them exactly what you want.”

Sloane took the card, flipping it over with mild curiosity. When she read the title, her eyebrows lifted slightly.

"Vice President of Drysdale Co."

“Awesome.” She grinned, tucking the card into her apron pocket before standing up. Without another word, she headed toward the stairs, disappearing onto the second floor.

Jake let out a long breath beside you, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh… I’m sorry about my mom. She can be a bit much.”

You leaned back on the couch, stretching your arms over the backrest. “I don’t mind. Actually, I got everything I needed.”

Jake blinked at you, clearly surprised. “You did?”

You nodded. “More than I expected, actually.”

He exhaled, shaking his head. “Yeah… that was a lot.”

You tilted your head slightly, watching him. “Could you get someone to meet me?”

Jake’s posture straightened. “Of course. Who?”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “Natasha.”

At the Arcade

The neon lights flickered against the scuffed tile floor, casting an eerie glow over the buzzing machines. The scent of buttered popcorn and cheap soda lingered in the air, mixing with the faint metallic tang of coins and the distant beeps of arcade games.

You leaned against a pinball machine, arms crossed, watching the entrance. People came and went, laughter and shouts filling the space, but you weren’t here for fun.

Then, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“I heard you wanted to see me?”

You turned your head, meeting Natasha’s sharp gaze. She stood near the entrance, arms crossed, exuding her usual air of arrogance.

“I am,” you replied smoothly, straightening up.

Natasha stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor. “Well, here I am. So, what do you want?”

Join the tag list? 🩷💙🩷

@winterslove1917

@thezombieprostitute

@namoreno

@sagebarness

@tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden

@unaxv

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@hopeful-daydreaming

@freshlemontea

@eat-limes-bitches

@kandis-mom

@scott-loki-barnes

@winters1917

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@arunabraganza

@ordelixx

@esposadomd

@sapphirebarnes

@cjand10

@bellabarnes1378

@thetravelingtyper

@buckitostan

@mostlymarvelgirl

@5upersoldiers1xt

@jjanereid

@cakesandtom

@queen2234

@learisa

@springsheep

@mrsstuckyboo

@read-just-cant

@loki-laufeyson68

@anixerz

@ghalouha

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

@emerald-writes

@mcira

@barnesxstan

@bxtchboy69

@lokislady82

@mrsnikstan

@calwitch

@thedonswife13

@calwitch

@otterlycanadian

@bonkybarnes106

@tinkrogers

@chimchoom

@winchestert101

@raajali3

[bucksangel]

don't blame me (love made me crazy)

Pairing: softdark!stalker!bucky x reader

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: You’ve been stuck in this cabin for a year, and over the course of that time you’ve tried so hard to remember that you didn’t come here willingly. But, Bucky is really good at making you forget that part, until, eventually, you come to believe that this is where you’re meant to be. No matter how you got here.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! Minors DNI, references to kidnapping, full on stockholm syndrome, smut, wet dreams, fingering, oral (f receiving), soft love-making mixed with some roughness, squirting, crying is healthy, a little hurt-comfort, alpine makes an appearance

a/n: this is part 2 to temptation!! However, you don’t necessarily need to read part 1 to understand this, it will just give some backstory.  not beta-read so all mistakes are my own.

masterlist | tip jar | ao3

Soft, plush lips are brushing over yours, hands caressing your sides and squeezing every so often, your hips rocking. You’re not quite sure where you are or who is touching you, you can only make out the hazy form above you; bright blue eyes darkened by desire stare down at you. The person pulls back at the same time you feel a pressure between your legs. Upon looking down, you see a toned stomach clenching every time their hips meet the back of your thighs. You’re spread open, gasping and whining as more pressure builds. Slowly trailing your gaze upwards, your eyes roam over an equally chiseled chest, your eyes catching the reflection of light on metal. And that’s when you know who it is that’s currently inside you, but you don’t seem to believe it until you look up further and come face to face with – 

Bucky. It’s Bucky, his smile so soft and loving, his breath fanning over your face as he whispers praises into the air. You can’t make out what he’s saying, everything is still too fuzzy, all you know is that you’re about to cum. You can feel it, you can practically taste it, and you’re sure Bucky can tell because he shudders when you involuntarily clench around him.

“Angel,” He whispers, cutting through the fog in your head. You whine, wiggling your hips slightly to get him to go faster. He doesn’t.

“Angel,” He says again, louder this time. You can feel yourself rocking, and more whines and whimpers spill from your lips.

Your body is shaken a little harder, and all at once, the haze is gone.

The haze is gone, now replaced by the soft light of the sun streaming in through the curtains. Upon opening your eyes, you blink slowly, staring up at a smiling Bucky with bleary eyes.

“B-Bucky?” You mumble, voice thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost seven-thirty. I was going to wake you up so we could shower together, but you looked so peaceful that I decided to let you sleep in a little longer.” His smile gives away that he probably knew what you were dreaming about, and the thought makes your face grow hot. There’s a stickiness between your legs, one that you’re desperately trying to ignore as you sit upright.

“Oh, I - I’m sorry,” You say remorsefully, you know how much Bucky likes keeping you on a routine. You’re supposed to wake up at seven every morning, shower with Bucky, and then sit on his lap as he feeds you whatever he made for breakfast that day. So, for him to disrupt your schedule, even by thirty minutes, feels weird. You decide not to question it for the time being.

“No, baby, it’s okay,” Bucky says as he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I know we did a lot of gardening yesterday so being in that heat probably made you extra tired. But, now that you’re up, why don’t you go ahead and get showered while I make us some food, yeah?”

Even though it’s phrased as a question, you know it’s not. You don’t really get a say in anything, but… but that’s your life now, isn’t it? Not being able to decide for yourself, having no freedom from outside of the confines of this cabin that you’ve been trapped in for… god, who knows how long.

Without wasting much time, you slide out of bed, stopping to give Bucky a smile and a kiss before you go into the bathroom. When you enter, you make sure to leave the door halfway open, another thing Bucky likes. He doesn’t like the idea of a barrier between you two, always needing easy access in case you somehow injure yourself, or he just needs some extra love and doesn’t want to waste time by fiddling with the doorknob. 

Your movements are almost robotic as you take off your clothes, once again ignoring the ache between your thighs as you toss your clothes in the hamper. You try not to look at yourself in the mirror, you actually hate doing it. Because the person who looks back at you is supposed to be you. The person in your reflection is supposed to have life in her eyes, her face shouldn’t have a permanent frown etched onto it whenever she doesn’t have to plaster on a fake smile for Bucky.

Except… is it fake? It’s been so long since you’ve seen your friends and family, your loyal customers at the coffee shop you used to hate working at but now would give anything to go back to, you’d happily take the yelling from angry customers over their drinks being wrong than being held in the middle of the woods by a man who desperately needs intense therapy. He told you he used to go before you ‘moved’ in, as he likes to say, but now with you around he doesn’t feel the need to go. He has all of his happiness right in his home every day.

And it’s getting significantly harder to convince yourself that this isn’t what you want, you don’t want to be confined to this cabin and the garden surrounding it. It’s so fucking hard to forget that this isn’t the fairytale romance you had envisioned as a kid, but it’s also hard to remember your life before Bucky. Because he’s just so damn sweet and loving that it’s fucking with your mind, it makes you want to scream.

Bucky goes out and buys you flowers every Sunday, making sure to write a heartfelt message on the card attached to the bouquet by a ribbon. He built a huge library before you got here and let you pick the trinkets and books that would fill the shelves. He even bought gardening supplies after a few months when he realized you were getting too cooped up and gave you access to the space in the backyard.

You like to think that if you met under better circumstances then your relationship would be vastly different. It would be happy for both of you, not just one-sided. However… would it really be so bad to just give in? By now you know you’re never escaping, and you’re tired of being so despondent all the time, you’re tired of dreading another day with your captor.

You’re just tired. Of everything.

It takes effort to pull your gaze away from the mirror, but you eventually reach into the shower to turn the water on. When it’s warm enough, you step inside, letting the hot water cascade over your body and soothe the ache in your soul. And while standing under the stream your mind wanders back to your dream.  You’ve been having these dreams more and more over the last few weeks. They don’t happen every night, and it’s not always the same scenario, but the overall theme of the dreams is just the same.

You’d bet you’ve been in this cabin for almost a year, judging by the change in weather reminiscent of when you were taken. And in that time, Bucky has made no sexual advancement towards you. His affection usually consists of kisses, cuddles, and gentle massages when he wants you to really relax. There might be a bit of groping when you’re in the shower together, but he’s done nothing more than that, and that confuses you even more. You figured at first that maybe he was just going to let you acclimate to this new environment before making his move, but he’s done no such thing. He’s been very clear in his pure intentions, has never made you feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to do.

But why? Isn’t your sole reason for being here to please him?

Once again, it confuses you, and when you move your head slightly some of the water splashes onto your face, knocking you out of your thoughts. Deciding you’ve dwelled enough, you grab your loofah and start washing your body, trying to ignore the ache in between your thighs as you give your legs a cursory wash. And as you continue through your shower, you can hear Bucky’s footsteps on the carpet in your bedroom.

You know that he’s a trained assassin, can sneak up on someone without them hearing anything, but Bucky’s told you he doesn’t want to scare you. He did once when you first got here. He didn’t have any intentions of spooking you, he just wanted to come up behind you and wrap his arms around you while you cooked. But you ended up nearly shrieking and almost spilling the sauce you were making, and Bucky felt so guilty that he didn’t touch you for two days until you convinced him that you weren’t scared of him, you were just surprised because you didn’t hear him coming. So now Bucky always makes sure to walk a little heavier to alert you of his presence.

“Angel?” His voice echoes through the bathroom as he enters, the door opening wider and allowing you to see Bucky’s hazy form from behind the glass shower door. “Are you okay?” Fuck, you’ve probably been in here too long if he’s already done with breakfast.

“Yes,” You say as you turn off the water. Upon stepping out of the shower, Bucky is there to wrap a towel around your shoulders to start drying you off. “Sorry, the hot water just felt nice.”

Bucky chuckles as he rubs the towel over your body, smiling at you the way he always does – that he can never really believe that you’re real.

“It’s okay, angel,” He says as he puts the towel in the hamper and turns to grab one of his shirts that he loves seeing you wear. “But I’m sure my excellent cooking will be enough reason to get out.” At that, he laughs again, and you do too, because his cooking isn’t all that great. He’s gotten much better over the last year, but it could still be better.

“It always is.”

“You’re lying and I know it.” Bucky laughs again and squints his eyes at you, giving you a teasing glare after he pulls the shirt over your head. And it makes you feel at least a little better knowing that he’s self-aware enough to know that.

“Okay, so maybe it isn’t the best food I’ve ever eaten,” You concede, holding onto Bucky’s shoulders to steady yourself as he dresses you in underwear and shorts. “But I’ll still eat anything you make because you made it.” And it kind of hurts to admit, but your sentiment isn’t a total lie. Bucky may be disturbed, but he truly puts all of his love into everything he does, and you can’t deny that he puts so much effort into making you comfortable.

Bucky’s still squatting when you say that, and he lets his hands rest on your hips while he looks up at you with nothing less than absolute adoration.

“And because you love me?” He asks, hopefully. He loves it when you say it, you’re pretty sure it’s his favorite three words he’s ever heard.

Combing your fingers through his hair, you scratch at his scalp a little and force your voice not to waver as you say, “And because I love you.”

The rest of the day goes by as it usually does; Bucky feeds you breakfast with you perched on his lap, giving you kisses in between bites and sighing wistfully every so often. Afterward, you make your way to the library and sit on the bench seat by the window, reading one of the many classics that fill the room for a couple of hours while Bucky goes out to run errands.

Although, if you’re being honest with yourself, you’re not really reading. Your eyes are skimming over the words but you’re not processing any of them. No, your mind is still focused on this morning and how real the dream felt, how a part of you that you try to ignore wants it to be real. You try to chalk it up to the fact that you haven’t been intimate with anyone in so long, but the fact that it’s Bucky you’re dreaming about makes you think that it might just be him that you want.

No. Stop it. He kidnapped you. You don’t want him.

As you’re about to give up on reading, you hear the door creak open wider. Looking up, you see Bucky standing in the doorway, shuffling nervously and fiddling with his fingers.

“Is everything okay, Bucky?” You close the book and set it aside, your eyebrows furrowing with worry as you walk towards him.

“I…” He trails off, briefly biting his lip before smiling wide, like a kid on Halloween that filled up his candy bag. “Just come with me.”

Bucky reaches out his hand, and you place yours in his. You’re confused, but go with him anyway. He leads you down the hallway to the spare room – you’re not sure why he included it when he built the cabin, but you’ve never asked why. When you get there, Bucky is practically vibrating with nervous excitement. He smiles at you one more time before opening the door and revealing the interior. And it’s full of cat trees and toys, and you’re momentarily confused as to why he has these before you spot a ball of white fur curled up on a mini hammock.

Immediately, you recognize it as a cat, clearly a baby considering how small it is. Bucky tugs you further into the room towards where the kitten is sleeping, stopping right in front of the hammock and moving behind you so he can wrap his arms around your waist.

“I found her a couple of days ago,” Bucky starts, and you can feel him smiling into your neck. “She was all the way out in the back of the property, shivering and dirty. She’s just so small and I knew I had to take her in before anything happened to her. I brought all the toys and cat trees in just now when you were in the library so you wouldn’t see it. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

And oh what a surprise it is. The kitten must hear Bucky talking because her eyes slowly blink open before landing on you, meowing softly and shifting in the hammock so she can lean her paws on the side and lift up in what you’re assuming is an attempt to get pets. You’re helpless but to pick her up and cuddle her close to your chest, your heart warming with affection when she nuzzles into you.

“What’s her name?” Your voice is soft because you don’t want to disturb her, and she meows again, almost like she’s thanking you for the consideration.

“I haven’t named her yet. I wanted you to.”

It takes no time at all for you to answer.

“Alpine.”

“Alpine?” Bucky sounds curious, and he kisses your temple as he moves to gently scratch behind her ears. “Why that name?”

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly. “She just looks like an Alpine.”

Bucky laughs from behind you, kissing your temple once more and nodding.

“Alpine it is.”

A few days later, you’re in Alpine’s dedicated room playing with her. She’s allowed to free roam throughout the house, but she prefers being in here – or, really, anywhere you are. She’s taken a liking to you, and you to her. She’s almost like a friend to you, someone you can turn to when you get too sad because you know she won’t judge you, she’ll give you kisses and cuddles and make you feel better within minutes. You’re currently lying on your stomach, giving Alpine head scratches and laughing softly when she nibbles at your fingers affectionately. 

“What should I do, hm?” Your question is rhetorical, you know she can’t understand you, let alone respond. Still, you like talking to her as though she can. “These… dreams are getting worse. Well, not worse per se, just – more intense. And I don’t know what to do about them. He’s never pressured me into anything, even though I’m fairly certain he does want… that.”

Sighing, you roll over onto your back, letting Alpine crawl onto your stomach and make her way up to your chest so her nose is nearly pressed against yours. And when she meows, you can’t help but smile.

“I don’t know if I want to tell him about them though. I mean, am I even ready? I’ve been here for so long and I know I’m not leaving, and he says he loves me, so I’m pretty sure he won’t make me do anything I don’t want even if I do tell him.” Pausing, you sigh, holding Alpine close to your chest while you sit up.

“What do you think, Alp? Should I tell him?” She immediately meows and lifts up to give your chin a little lick, and you smile at her. “Okay, okay.”

It takes a moment to gather yourself, letting the truth sink in.

“I’ll tell him.”

Despite not having access to any calendars, you’re pretty sure today is your anniversary. Bucky, once again, let you sleep in a little bit longer, staying in bed with you and holding you close while you traded kisses. He cooked up a huge breakfast and placed a big bouquet of roses on your nightstand, even going so far as to massage your feet and calves while you ate. Part of you doesn’t want to ask, because then it would be real. Not only have you been here for a full year, but you’ve been missing for longer than that, and that truth still hurts.

Still, you take everything he does for you gracefully, thanking him for being so thoughtful and trying not believe yourself when you tell him that you’ve never been treated so lovingly. Well, it’s kind of true, despite the fact that you didn’t come here willingly. He really does treat you with care, and his consideration of your feelings – other than the negative ones towards him – is something you haven’t experienced before.

It’s around mid-day when Bucky gives you your first gift. Well, it’s technically a joint gift for you and Alpine – an oversized hoodie with a pouch in front big enough for the kitty to snuggle in so you can carry her around the house with you without actually using your hands. It’s actually extremely thoughtful, and you can’t help but laugh when you notice that the hood has little cat ears on them.

“Thank you, Bucky,” You say after he helps you put it on, smiling wide when he picks up Alpine and helps put her inside the pocket.

“Of course, angel,” He says, also smiling. Then, he grabs his phone, pointing it at you. “Now, let me get a picture of my girls.”

You adjust your position on the couch, sitting up further and making sure Alpine’s head is poking out. Last minute, you flip up your hood, making sure the ears are visible and chuckling when you hear the rapid click of the camera as Bucky takes multiple photos. After he’s done, he pockets his phone again, coming to sit next to you on the couch and wrap one arm around you while he pets Alpine’s head with his other hand.

Everything is quiet for a little bit, both of you loving on your cat. When she starts trying to get out, presumably ready to play, Bucky helps her out of the pocket, then helps you out of the hoodie.

“Bucky?” You’re not sure why, but now feels like the right time to ask. Even though your entire body feels like it’s on fire.

“Yes, baby?”

“Um…” Sighing, you look down at your hands as you fiddle with your fingers. “I was wondering, um…”

“What’s wrong?” Bucky shifts so he’s facing you, using one hand to lift your chin so you can look at him.

“Why haven’t we had sex yet?” Your question comes out so fast that you’re unsure if Bucky actually understood you, but you don’t want to repeat yourself so you just hold your breath as you await his answer.

“What do you mean” He genuinely sounds confused, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, I just assumed that I was here to… please you. I know you love me, so I guess I’m just confused as to why you haven’t tried to do anything.” You try to breathe evenly, even though your heart is beating so fast in anxiety that you feel like you might pass out. You don’t want to upset him, so you’re hoping he doesn’t take offense to your comment.

Bucky doesn’t answer for a couple of minutes, he just sighs and dips his head low, like he’s thinking over his words carefully. But when he does speak, it surprises you.

“Because you’re not ready. You’re right when you say that I love you, which means I’m going to respect your boundaries. I don’t want to force you to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”

Tears want to spring to your eyes, because at that moment you know you’re rightfully fucked. He’s just too perfect that you can’t wrap your head around this conversation. You’d never thought of it like that, that he’d want to make sure you’re comfortable with him before taking that next step. And now you know that you want to, you want to give yourself to him in that way. And, now it’s your turn to lift his head to look at you, then lace your fingers with his.

“And… what if I am ready?”

Immediately, Bucky’s eyes widen, and you think you can see a little bit of hope in his eyes. Despite your earlier nerves, you can feel in your soul that you are ready to take the leap, and you can’t help but give him a soft smile.

“Are you sure?” He asks, squeezing your hand in a loving gesture. “I don’t want you to do something just because you think I’m expecting it.”

“I know you’re not expecting anything,” You say, briefly biting your lip. “And I want to, I promise.”

Bucky sighs, then leans forward to press his lips to yours. It’s not an intense kiss, it’s a reassuring one, a kiss that lets you know he wants this too. You pull apart when your stomach starts rumbling, and you’re reminded that you haven’t eaten since this morning.

“Come on, baby, let’s make lunch.”

You’re slightly on edge for the rest of the day, awaiting the moment. Bucky hasn’t made a move yet, so you’re assuming it’s going to happen before you go to bed, and even though you’re nervous, you can’t deny that most of those nerves are from excitement.

And when the clock strikes seven, Bucky leads you out of Alpine’s room and to yours, smiling at you the entire time. Typically, Bucky likes you to be in bed by eight-thirty, but you’re assuming you’re going to be up a little later tonight which is why he wants to start early. As soon as he closes the bedroom door, you can feel your heart beat increasing, and Bucky comes up in front of you to cup your face in his hands.

“Are you positive you want this?” His eyes scan your face, looking for a hint of doubt. He finds none, because you aren’t doubting this. You’re sure you’re not going to regret this.

“I promise, Bucky.” The assuring comment comes out breathy, and your eyes travel down to his lips before looking back up into his. “I’m ready.”

Bucky hums, nodding a little before leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. It slowly becomes more intense, your lips gliding against each other as your tongues start invading each others mouths. You don’t even notice when his hands land on your hips until they sneak up your shirt, causing you to squeak.

“Angel,” Bucky breathes out, removing his mouth from yours to glide down to your neck where he presses more insistent kisses, even nibbling on the skin until you’re sure you’ll have bruises. He slides his hands up to your waist, going up, up, and up until you’re prompted to lift your arms over your head so he can take off your shirt.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” He growls as his eyes scan your torso, causing you to whimper and hold onto his shoulders while you press your body closer to his.

“Bucky, please.” You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but Bucky seems to know exactly what you need.

In response to your begging, he lifts you into his arms, carrying you bridal-style to the bed until he lays you down in the middle of it. When he pulls back, he props himself up on his left forearm so he can place his flesh hand on your sternum. Dragging his hand down to your shorts, he toys with the ties, then looks up at you with a questioning look in his eyes.

“Yes,” You say when you realize he’s waiting for permission. “Please take them off, Bucky.”

He groans again, dipping his head low for a minute before undoing the ties and shifting up onto his knees so he can use both of his hands to drag your shorts down your legs. Now you’re left in just your bra and underwear, and you’re tempted to cover your body. He’s seen you naked hundreds of times, but this feels different, and you’re sure it’s because of the more intimate setting.

“Don’t,” He says adamantly, not being mean but letting you know there’s no room for discussion. “Don’t hide your body from me, angel. You’re perfect.”

Tears want to spring to your eyes, and you forget all about why you were so nervous in the first place, you don’t even know why you’ve resisted his love all this time.

“Thank you, baby,” You whimper, bringing up your hand to wipe at your eyes to get rid of the tears. “I… I love you.” And, this time, you know you mean it. You mean it with everything you have.

“I love you too. So fucking much.” Bucky smiles at you, his eyes also watery. He dips down again to kiss you, shuddering when you tug at his shirt. He moves slowly, kissing you for a few long moments until he huffs out a laugh at your insistent tugging at his shirt. “Okay, okay.”

Lifting up onto his knees, he grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, smiling wider when he catches you practically drooling over his exposed chest. But then he freezes up, briefly glancing at his left shoulder. And, you realize now that this new intimate setting is probably getting to him too, and you know you need to get rid of those awful thoughts he has about himself.

“Buck,” You say softly, sitting up and placing your hands on his chest. Your right hand travels to his shoulder where his flesh meets metal, and you trace the scars delicately with the tips of your fingers. “Please don’t be ashamed of them. You may not like it, but the scars don’t matter to me. They’re a part of you, and I love all of you.” You can see the tears in Bucky’s eyes as you speak, his bottom lip wobbling a little as he tries not to cry.

“Are you -” Bucky stops himself, sniffles and clears his throat, then continues. “Are you sure? I mean, you’ve seen it before but…”

“But nothing.” Your voice isn’t harsh, but you let him know you don’t want him to argue. “I said I love you, all of you. Don’t you believe me?”

“Of course I do!” Bucky says hurriedly, placing both of his hands over yours and squeezing them close to his chest. “I-I know you do. I love you too.” He sighs, bringing up one of your hands to kiss your knuckles. Then, he gently pushes you back onto the bed, not breaking eye contact as he shuffles off the bed so he can take off his sweats and boxers.

When they’re finally off, Bucky crawls back onto the bed, stopping at your hips so he can toy with the band of your panties. You nod at him when he looks to you for consent, and he keeps looking at you as he drags them down your legs, only breaking your gaze so he can focus on maneuvering your feet out of them. It seems like he wants to get going, but then his eyes travel to your bra-covered chest and he switches gears. Knowing what he wants, you arch your back so he can undo the hook and then you lay back down so he can throw it off to the side.

And now, you’re both naked, Bucky hovering over you and looking at you through teary eyes. He places his flesh hand on your stomach, trailing his fingers up to your breast so he can tweak one of your nipples.

“Bucky, please.”

“Don’t worry, angel,” Bucky says softly, dipping down to kiss your lips before kissing down your neck and collarbone, then stopping at your other breast so he can nibble on it. “I’ve got you, I’ve always got you,” He whispers into your skin.

“I know.” His eyes flick up to yours at the confirmation, and he smirks a little to himself as he bites down on your nipple, causing you to whimper. 

Despite your wiggling, he takes his time kissing over your chest, going down your stomach until he has to slide down the bed so he can come face-to-face with your pussy. You spread your legs of your own volition, and Bucky groans in appreciation, nuzzling his nose into your lower lips and breathing deeply.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” He nearly growls, shifting so he’s laying between your legs and placing his flesh hand on your thigh to keep you spread and using his metal hand to pull your other leg over his shoulder. “Is all this for me?” He asks, referring to the slick dripping out of your pussy.

“Yes, all for you.” You reach your hand down and card your fingers through his hair, prompting him to look up at you. “Only for you.”

Bucky swallows down his emotions, nodding at you one last time before diving in. He takes one more deep breath, nudging his nose along your folds, then using his flesh hand to spread them apart. You gasp when he drags his tongue from your quivering hole to your throbbing clit, and you’re hit with the overwhelming knowledge that you won’t last long. You haven’t been intimate with anyone – let alone had time for yourself – in so long, and Bucky seems to realize this when he pulls back just enough to mumble, “Cum whenever you need, baby. Give it to me.” 

He continues, dipping his tongue into your soaking hole, thrusting it in and out a few times before going up to nibble and suck on your clit. You don’t even realize that you’re now a blubbering mess, whining and moaning and squirming in Bucky’s hold as you feel your release build. And, you’d be embarrassed with how fast you’re about to cum considering how not-long you’ve been at this if not for Bucky’s groans of appreciation. You’re unconsciously tugging at his hair too, pulling him closer, but then your hand tightens when he suddenly prods his forefinger at your hole.

Immediately, you tense up a little, because, despite how wet you are, you’re still really tight. And Bucky’s fingers are big, so it takes a bit of shushing and sweet kisses to your thighs for you to relax enough for him to fit his finger in, but only just until the second knuckle. He pauses, letting you adjust to the intrusion, which you’re grateful for. He wiggles it a little, sucking and kissing your clit until you relax enough for him to push his finger in all the way, then pull it out so he can push it in again.

He keeps at the tortuously slow pace, carefully opening you up until he can fit a second finger in your pussy. Your breaths are coming out faster, you’re almost panting at this point as he speeds up until he’s truly fingering you, really giving you what you need. And right when you feel like you’re about to explode with pleasure, Bucky wraps his lips around your clit, bites down softly, and then sucks as shoves in a third finger and stabs at that special spot deep within you.

“Bucky! Oh, fuck, yes!” Bucky will gloat later about how loud he made you scream just from his fingers and mouth, how you squirted all over his forearm and chin. He’d also admit that he nearly blew his own load at your taste, but he wanted to save his release for you.

It takes a few long moments to come down from your high, and when you do, you see Bucky up on his knees looking down at you while fisting his cock.

“Are you sure you want this? We can stop if it’s too much.” You know Bucky doesn’t want to stop, but you also know he gladly would if you asked him to, which is how you know you want to continue.

“No stopping allowed,” You breathe out, smiling at him a little when he chuckles. “Now, please get inside me or I’ll cry.”

“There’s no need to cry right now, baby,” He says, leaning over you to prop himself up on his right forearm and grab the base of his cock with his metal hand and guide it to your entrance. “But you will be crying by the end of the night.”

You surge up to kiss him, biting his bottom lip and grasping his shoulders to brace yourself. Bucky groans, and you lay back down so you can stare into each other’s eyes as he pushes in slowly. Again, he seems to understand that even though you’ve just cum harder than you can ever remember, you’re still a little tight – especially since he’s easily the biggest man you’ve ever been with.

It takes a couple of minutes until he’s buried fully inside you. You’re whimpering while he’s biting his lip, letting out little groans. Placing his metal hand on your thigh, he spreads you open further, though not too far as to hurt you. Carefully, he pulls back, letting you get used to the movements when he pushes back in.

And it goes like this for a bit, Bucky fucking you slowly until you start wiggling your hips and clutch his shoulders.

“Pl-Please, Bucky. I – Faster.” You know you sound pathetic, but you can’t find it in you to care, mostly because your mind has floated off into space as you soak in the immense pleasure.

Bucky listens to you, taking his time in picking up the pace until you’re sure you’re about to break. He keeps mumbling praises the whole time, telling you how you’re so fucking beautiful and thank you for trusting me and god, I love you so much.

Lifting up your left leg, he places it over his shoulder, and every so often he’ll force his hips flush with the backs of your thighs and grind his hips, the tip of his cock nudging at your sweet spot and causing you to moan loudly. And, he was right, because the longer it goes on the more tears you can feel pooling in your eyes until they start streaming down your face.

“Bu – Bucky,” You can’t help but whine, your breaths coming out uneven as you try to control your emotions.

“It’s okay, angel,” He says, just this side of condescending. His tone sends shivers down your spine, and you have to force your eyes from closing because you want to see Bucky’s face for this. “I know it’s a lot, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes, fuck, you’re – Ah! You’re so big!” You can see through your hazy vision that he’s smirking, though you can tell he’s close to crying too. He’s always been emotionally open, always telling you how he’s feeling and encouraging you to share yours as well. Which is why you’re comfortable with being so vulnerable in front of him.

“Are you close?” He asks, his breathing speeding up as his hips do too. “Fuck, angel. Tell me you’re close.”

“I am!” You’re practically screaming at this point with every powerful thrust he gives you. To an outsider, it may look a little like he’s breaking you apart with his cock, but you know the truth. He’s putting you back together, making you whole in a way you’ve never been before. “Cum with me, please!”

Bucky groans and shudders, gritting his teeth when you dig your nails into his shoulders. Nodding, he adjusts his position so every thrust has his cock stabbing deep within you every time. And you place your hand on the side of his face, making sure he’s looking directly at you when you clench down purposefully, and he shouts at the same time you do, letting go at the same time.

You don’t know what happens after that, all you remember is having the most intense orgasm of your life and then suddenly you’re waking up cuddled into Bucky’s chest, the sky outside now dark as the moon sneaks up into the sky. Wiggling a little, you realize Bucky cleaned you up, but you can still feel the remnants of his cum inside you, and you relish in it.

“Bucky?” You mumble, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Just past ten,” He says softly, kissing the top of your head then lifting your chin so he can look into your eyes. “You don’t regret this, do you?” You can tell he’s nervous, that he really wants your answer to be no.

“I don’t.” You lean up to give him a lingering kiss, sighing into each other’s mouths before pulling away just enough to stare into his eyes as you say, “I’ll never regret being with you.”

And, finally, you mean it, because you realize now that this is the love you’ve always wished for. Bucky takes care of you in a way you both know no one else can, and you can only hope he knows that you can take care of him too. You’ll love him deeply, and you’ll give him the life he deserves.

temptation taglist: @mayreblogsstuff / @raging-panda / @wintrsoldrluvr / @myfavbuckyfics / @watchoutforyelener / @lauratang / @esotericgalaxy / @mayusenpai666 / @buckets-and-trees / @fandoms-writings

[earlgreydream]

🍓 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 5. || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Suffer does the wolf, crawling to thee Promising a big fire, any fire Saying I'm the one, he's gonna take me I'm on fire, I'm on fire, I'm on fire Suffering is nigh, drawing to me Calling me the one, I'm the white light Beautiful, finite

a/n: it's been a minute, because i couldn't decide where i wanted to go with this story, but i feel like i have a vision again. if you've sent asks about this au (many of you have) know that i am considering and incorporating your ideas, and i adore them. much love x grey

icymi: (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

"James."

You looked up, realizing that was his name - Bucky's name - as he turned to Steve, who stood in the doorway of the master bedroom. The tension sent nausea spinning through your stomach, Bucky looking down at you, saying nothing for a moment.

"Wait here, babydoll," Bucky leaned down and planted a kiss to the crown of your head.

He stepped out, following Steve with a scathing glare. He hadn't ever told you his name was James - and you didn't even call him Bucky, afraid to do so without permission.

"What? What could possibly bring you into my bedroom calling me 'James'?" Bucky snapped at Steve, as soon as you were out of earshot.

"You can't stay here with her," Steve said quietly, seriousness filling his cornflower-blue eyes.

"What do you mean? This is my home, she... She is my home."

"You stole the daughter of the Stark family off the streets. They haven't stopped looking, they have endless resources, and they're getting way too close. James, if you want to keep her, you have to leave," Steve explained, watching anger sear through him.

"Daddy? What's wrong?" you peaked your head into his office, anxiously reaching out for his arm.

"I told you to wait in my bedroom!" Bucky snapped, making you jump back, fear in your eyes, a pang of guilt cutting through his anger.

"Go," he said more gently, running a hand through his hair with a deep sigh.

"I'll take care of it," Steve spoke, gesturing for Bucky to follow you.

He walked back through the house, the one he'd kept you in for eight months, building a life you were finally warming up to. The door to your bedroom - which was rarely used - was closed when Bucky came down the hall. Bucky quietly pushed it open, taking in the soft pink light that streamed through the curtains. You looked beautiful, despite your face being wet with tears. You were curled up in the corner of the bed, biting your fingertips as you cried softly, your cheek resting on your knees as you curled in on yourself.

"I know I disobeyed," you choked, holding something out to him.

Bucky approached you to see what was in your hand, surprised to see the pink leather strap that he'd taken to your backside many times before, whenever he'd felt you earned it in the past eight months. He took it from your hand, kneeling down in front of you.

“Please just spank me, I can’t bear to have you angry at me,” you begged hoarsely, once again shocking him.

“I need it,” you interrupted as he opened his mouth, and the words died in his throat.

Bucky stood, wiping your tears with his thumbs, cradling your face. His vibranium hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you up onto your knees, your head lowering to the bed.

He hushed your whimper, pushing up the slip around your waist. His palm smoothed over your bare skin, the touch tender, a silent communication that he was no longer angry. You kept your face buried in the pink sheets, darkened with the puddle of tears.

Bucky placed his hand on the small of your back, steadying you before the strap cracked against your delicate skin. You sobbed in relief, aware that Bucky wasn’t spanking you nearly as hard as he was capable, doing this for your benefit over his. The leather licked across your skin again, three times quickly in succession. Your cries turned to moans as Bucky took advantage of your exposed position, playing with your dripping sex. He watched your expression change as he gently circled your clit, feeling it harden under his fingertips, slick running down the skin.

“Want you to come, baby. It’s okay, just let me make it feel better,” Bucky coaxed soothingly, gently fucking you on two of his fingers as he continued to stroke you.

The sting in your backside had turned to a dull warmth, mixing with the heat throbbing between your hips. You were close to an orgasm after only moments of this — Bucky knowing exactly how to touch you.

A shudder rolled down your spine before you melted into a euphoria that left your thighs twitching and your cunt spasming. Bucky gave you a moment to catch your breath before wordlessly cleaning you up. He gently eased you out of your collapsed heap on the bed, adjusting you to curl up against his chest, your body folded between his legs.

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair, squeezing you as if he could absorb the stray sobs that wracked your shoulders.

“We’re going to have to go?” You whispered, confirming that you had caught the end of his conversation with Steve.

“For a little bit. I will keep you safe with me, I won’t let anyone harm you,” Bucky promised, firmly pressing a kiss to your forehead, cradling your body in his arms.

.🍓.

Steve praised you as you drank the sedative Bucky made, the two of them preparing to take you to a private airfield, to get you far away from Stark’s looming investigation.

“You’ll keep me safe?” You whispered to Bucky, holding his forearm, your eyes glassy.

“I’ll protect you with my life. Nobody can take you away,” he stroked your cheek, nodding at Steve as your eyelashes began to blink heavily. You sank into the bed, your hand slipping off of Bucky and dangling over the edge. When he lifted you, your body was limp, affected by the much heavier dose you’d been given, to ensure you could get on the plane without an issue.

Despite Steve there with trained medical assistance, it gave Bucky anxiety to see you that way. Though you would have gone with him willingly, he still didn’t want to risk losing you, counting down the moments until he had gotten you out of the country.

Bucky carried you onto the private plane, lying you down on white leather seats. Steve handed him a blanket to drape over you, a gesture that reminded Bucky how thankful he was that Steve was coming abroad, not leaving him alone.

“I hate to do this to her,” Bucky confessed, the back of his finger stroking your cheek.

“She’ll be fine, she’ll adjust.”

.

It was dark when you came to, no idea how much time had passed, or where you were. After a moment of orienting yourself, you realized you were in the back seat of a large SUV, too lethargic to fully sit up.

“James?” You mumbled, too out of it to even think about the fact you spoke his name.

He looked down at you in surprise, softening at the sound of his name on your lips. He’d expected to be angry if you ever called him by his name, but your call out to him had the opposite effect.

“I’m here, my love. We’re almost home, where you can sleep properly,” Bucky promised, tenderly cradling your head in his lap.

“Where’s home?”

“Sokovia.”

You dozed in and out of consciousness, barely waking up to process that Bucky was carrying you somewhere, men speaking overhead in a language you couldn’t understand.

Your limbs were heavy, head pounding and full of fog. Maybe you’d woken — maybe you hadn’t — it wasn’t clear.

.

There was no sunshine to greet you. You’d finally awoken in a grey room — a storm raging outside in the same hues as your bleak surroundings. It was terribly cold, and much darker than the daytime you were used to.

A man walked by, shouting sharply in a language you didn’t understand. You jumped, cowering back against the corner of the couch you were on, startled by the unfamiliarity of everything.

“You’re okay, you’re safe here.”

At the sound of James’ voice, the tension left your back and you visibly relaxed once you saw him. He came to your side, touching your forehead to feel for a fever. You leaned into his touch, anxious for some familiarity, yearning for him to comfort you.

“How do you feel?” James questioned, tilting your chin up and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“M’heads foggy,” you mumbled, knuckling at your bleary eyes.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he embraced you, clinging to him and burying your face in him. James stood, carrying you out of the office he’d been working in. He took you to what you presumed was your shared room in this new country, setting you down at the edge of the bed.

It was so different than your traditional home Bucky had before. This building was a brutalist design, stark concrete that matched the grey weather outside. The bedroom was more of a suite, a table and couch on one end, and the tub in the room instead of in the attached bath. Views out large windows overlooked an industrial city, centuries old and weathered by the cruelty of time.

You turned at the sound of running water, James drawing a bath for you in the huge bathtub. His hair hung down messily in his eyes as he leaned over, ditching his teeshirt to reveal extremely toned muscles. As you watched, a warmth began to spread through your chest, encasing your body as you ached for intimacy.

James looked up as he felt you approach, pausing to kiss your temple. He stilled when your hand went to his torso, fingertips tracing the definition of his abdomen.

“Will you get in with me, please?” You asked, looking up to meet his eyes, quietly holding his gaze.

“Of course. C’mere,” James’ voice came out in a whisper, his fingers tilting your chin up.

You kissed him softly, stepping closer so your bodies were touching, his arms snaking around your waist. This kiss felt different, so intimate and loving compared to your history. You exhaled as he pulled away to get in the bath with you, his back resting against the high side of the tub.

“James, I—” you began, straddling his waist and reaching below the water to touch him.

His head rested to the side, mesmerized by how sweet his name sounded on your lips, still so unused to it.

“Baby, wait. Our first time can’t be like this. You deserve better,” he insisted gently, stopping you from riding him.

The surprise was evident on your features, and his wet hand cupped your cheek to pull you into another kiss.

“I want to, I do, more than anything. Just not here, not in this state,” he spoke against your skin, relaxing as you nodded.

You sat down in the water, letting him massage soap over your sore body. He hummed softly as he touched you, fingertips trailing up and down your spine, basking in your short-lived peace.

The door swung open, making you jump and cover your chest with your arms, frightened by the intrusion.

“Don’t you knock?” James snapped, standing up.

Water dripped from his Adonis form, completely bare and on display as he climbed out of the tub. He wasn’t shy in front of the blond man who’d stormed in, one with harsh eyes and sharp features.

“It’s my house,” he snapped back in an unwaveringly impatient tone before launching quickly into the language you didn’t understand.

“Come,” James interrupted him, reaching to help you out of the bath.

You hesitated, not wanting to be seen naked by the stranger who had stormed in, but took his hand out of obedience.

“I’m not looking at you,” he waved dismissively before turning and slamming the door behind him.

“That’s Zemo, the baron who is hosting us. It is his compound. He won’t hurt you,” James gently explained, helping you out of the water and handing you a towel.

“I’ve got to go help him with some work. You’re free to roam inside, everywhere is stationed with his private security. Steve’s around here too, should you need something. Be my good girl?” He was apologetic, but you nodded bravely, watching him go.

Despite having more freedom to explore than you expected, you weren’t keen on wandering around the cement castle surrounded by strange men who didn’t speak your language.

You found that your new place had also come with a new wardrobe, likely in the rush to leave the states. A grin crossed your face as you pulled sweats from the drawer, unable to help yourself but be thankful for more practical clothing. It was cold in sokovia, colder in the cement and stone compound. You found matching socks, comfy as possible in your drug-hangover.

The growling of your stomach became impossible to ignore, resigning to find something to eat. A long hallway stretched out past your room, most of the adjacent doors closed. Unsure of what to do, you walked through the building, listening for a familiar voice.

“Steve?” You called, unnerved by the silent security that watched from doorways.

Your voice became more desperate, wanting the protection of your lover but unable to get it.

“I’m here,” Steve’s voice sent a wave of relief over you, seeing him in an office, closing his laptop.

“You’re awake, and hungry, I’m sure?”

A nod confirmed his ability to read your mind, and he led you down to an immaculate kitchen. Glass doors lined the dining side, looking out into frostbit gardens, stretching for several acres of the compound.

“You should spend some time outside on a nicer day. Some vitamin D would be good for you,” Steve noticed you staring.

You took a seat at the bar top as he set out some toast for you to eat while he made smoothies. The loud grind of the blender made you cringe, earning an apologetic smile. Steve explained that you needed rest and extra hydration to recover as you drank your smoothie, though you slowly began to space, losing track of what he was saying.

.

When James finally got out of meetings with Zemo, it was pitch black outside in the unforgiving night. He crossed a small courtyard to the building you were in — where the living quarters were, and went in search of you.

“Hey,” Steve stopped him in the hall, signaling to be quiet.

“She ate some, but definitely still out of it. She’s asleep in here, wouldn’t go back to your room alone,” he explained, letting James in his office, where you were contorted into a chair. James knelt down, gently rubbing a hand over your thigh.

“Baby,” he murmured, rousing you out of your fitful sleep.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

You nodded, getting up and taking his hand. James said goodnight to Steve before returning to your suite, rubbing your back over the lilac sweats he’d gotten for you.

His hand slipped from yours as he went to change out of his suit, running his hands through messy dark hair as he pulled it out of its bun. You walked up behind James, wrapping your arms around him and resting your cheek against his back.

James’ hand went over yours, gently thumbing over your knuckles and standing in the quiet with you. You clung to him, your consistency in what was so much chaos, needing him to ground you.

.

[thehydraethereal]

⋆⁎✽๛ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 --- for requests

෴ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: This content is dark and very triggering. Minors and easily triggered people, do not interact. Your mental health matters. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

෴ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: MY CONTENT IS DARK AND DARK ONLY. My requests are now OPENED. You can request as many fictions as you want, but you have to check out my CHARACTERS LIST and my WARNINGS first. IF YOU ARE ANON, USE AN EMOJI, SO WE CAN TALK MORE <3. Request via my INBOX. Please, also write a short summary of your ideas, do not just send in the number of the promp and the character. Thank you.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 I will use for these: Choking; chasing kink; Dacryphilia (tear kink); fear kink; dv + heavy violence; restraints; manhanding and others. Please choose a few in your request.

"You flinch like that again in public, and I’ll give you a real reason to." (1)

"I don’t remember asking what you wanted, sweetheart." (2)

"You can cry if you want. Won’t change a damn thing." (3)

"That’s the problem with you. You never fucking listen." (4)

"Go ahead. Tell me no again." (5)

"You move, and I promise it’ll be worse." (6)

"I told you to sit down. Don’t make me say it twice." (7)

"You think I give a fuck if you’re scared?" (8)

"I liked you better when you knew your place." (9)

"You’re only still breathing because I let you." (10)

"See how quiet you can be after I slap you around?" (11)

"You can beg if you want. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop." (12)

"Do I look like a man who’s gonna change his mind?" (13)

"At least make yourself useful, baby." (14)

"You act like I haven’t done this before." (15)

"If you were strong enough to stop me, angel, you would have by now." (16)

"C'mon, baby, don't cry...we haven't even started." (17)

"I'll destroy your pretty face of yours if you do that again." (18)

"Come here. Now." (19)

"I'd suggest you returned because if I catch you...you won't like what I'll do to you." (20)

[highonmarvel]

Control [prologue]

When an audition that could make your career is offered, you move back to New York and reconnect with your estranged father, and find out his old friend is the casting director, but you’ll have to do much more than wanted to get the role.

CONTENT WARNINGS! all my fics contain dark content including, but not limited to, noncon, dubcon, and explicit descriptions of violence and abuse. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. 18+, please!

Note; this is loosely based on Black Swan (2010). enjoy! hopefully. of course, love to @thehydraethereal.

You were 10 when you realised your father was selfish. No one else thought so—he was Captain America, for God’s sake! Always willing to risk his life for the nation and the world, but never for his only daughter, his only child. Maybe one could say you were the selfish one, but while you respected him as a hero, you resented him as a father. You had nightmares where he got hurt, and you pleaded with him to leave that life behind—he said he did this to protect you, but what use was your being alive if he never made time to see it? After the ordeal with the Sokovia Accords, his disappearance solidified your anger towards him. You weren’t even a teenager yet, and he did bother to even say goodbye.

Life with your mother wasn’t at all bad—she was wonderful, and supportive, and you understood why she left your father; just like you, she was always anxious about him, until she couldn’t take it anymore. You were young when your parents split, having just started grade one, but you refused to go with her, longing to look up to the superhero she left behind. You couldn’t understand why she would leave the bravest man on the planet, why she wanted him to stop saving the world, until you lived with him. There’s hardly anything worse than getting back from school to an empty house, staying up past midnight waiting for your father to come back, and then watching him limp in, battered and bruised, his suit dirty and ashen, and not being able to do anything to help him.

When you moved in with your mother, you still felt a part of you was just undiscovered. You had this nervous energy you needed to release, you felt the need to do something with your body like your father did, but running and boxing were too undisciplined for you, and made your life feel more out of control than it offered a respite, and that’s when you found dance. You could use your body to express yourself without fear of losing control: you never wanted to go back to not knowing what could happen. You were often told this was a detriment to your unmatched talent, your refusal to improvise and let go hindered your performance, but still you refused to let yourself fall victim to potential injury, you couldn’t bear to see your mother that stressed over someone’s health again.

There weren’t many ballerinas in the small town you lived in, and so your relative popularity didn’t mean too much to you, but when a New York instructor saw a small production of The Nutcracker, you, for the first time, really realised your true potential. Ballet was your life, but moving back to New York ten years after leaving made you nervous. How many times had The Avengers destroyed that city? And it wasn’t really fear of being a casualty that made you anxious, but rather the constant reminders you’d see of your father’s heroism, and that would undoubtedly bring back unpleasant memories.

You couldn’t pass up the opportunity to perform Swan Lake. Your mother said she couldn’t come with you to New York, and you understood why. Neither of you had much money—until you passed that audition and made a stable career out of it, you certainly weren’t going to make it in that big city.

Maybe this big step brought about a little recklessness, because despite your years of conditioning yourself to poise and composure, you felt compelled to try out for the Black Swan, and lose yourself this time, to a more bold and seductive style, possibly to show your father he had missed out on your transformation into a woman.

It wasn’t hard to track him down, and you were short with him on the phone.

“I’ve got an audition in NYC. I need a place to stay for a little. If it works out, I’ll be able to get a new place, if not, I move back home. It’ll be less than a month.”

“An… audition?” he started, and you could practically hear his brows furrow, but he seemed to think better than to ask too many questions, and he sounded almost desperate though he tried to keep his voice level. On the verge of begging, he continued, “That’ll be amazing— it— it’ll be alright, honeycakes.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to cringe at the nickname, instead overcome by a wave of nostalgia, somehow longing for a memory of fatherly love you never really had. You cleared your throat and gave a quick confirmation of the date you’d be arriving before hanging up, and deciding it would be best to hold your head in your hands for a little, taking deep breaths to process this.

You had packed very light—a single bag—to make sure he really got the message you didn’t plan on staying any longer than necessary. You're surprised that when get out the cab, he’s standing on the sidewalk, hesitantly waiting for you to step out. You nearly don’t recognise him: he has a full beard now, and even though it has been ten years, it seems his soul had been wearied beyond that, his demeanour close to flat until you step into view, and he stands straighter as he sucks in a deep breath and gives a tight-lipped smile.

“Hi,” he greets, slightly breathless.

“Hi, Dad.”

He sighs in relief when you say the word, and you know why: he had abandoned you, he was right to think you didn’t consider him your father anymore, but the word slipped out, and you couldn’t take it back if you wanted to.

He surprisingly pulls you into a hug, squeezing you tightly, but you can’t bring yourself to return his embrace. He awkwardly pulls away and takes a step back.

“You’re so grown up,” he whispers as he looks at you, something like regret in his eyes. And you want to make a snarky comment about how he missed out on it but bite your tongue and give a slight smile and a small nod, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Welcome home.”

♬

[my beloved taglist: @cowboysnbugs, @keito-123, @vogueprincess, @cjand10, @mybabygirllove, @chinggay85-blog]

[tarithenurse]

Baby it's cold outside

Fandom: MCU AU. Pairing/starring: DARK!Bucky x fem!reader. Word count: 80. Content: Coming DUBCON/NONCON implied, coercion, drinking, Bucky not taking a no for an answer. A/N: Trying to write max 100 words is an addictive challenge which @justagirlinafandomworld has provided with the addition of “Baby It's Cold Outside by Idina Menzel & Michael Buble” (a gorgeous rendition here – but this song always pisses me off so things got DARK).

Baby, it's cold outside

He’d chosen the music specifically for this, mirroring the way she shies away even as he leans in closer, offering her the strong drink.

It’s for her own safety, why can’t she see it? Outside, it’s a veritable blizzard – that he hadn’t planned, though, it was just pure luck.

Their fingers graze each other as she reluctantly takes the drink fro him. She’s cold. Shivering.

He’ll warm her soon enough, though. He’ll show her it’s better to listen to him.

[chrissmissus]

Hey I need help finding a fic. It was written by neighborhood black girl or something like that, it was a dark stucky X reader 2 parter fiction, where the reader breaks up with her boyfriend and they move her in and Steve kisses her at night while Bucky is playing with her. In the continuing fic Steve fucks and cums in her and Bucky eats her out. WHERE IS THIS FIC GUYS!!! Please help me!!!

[buckrecs]

𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 : 𝙊𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧 ~

masterlist | monthly fic rec masterlist

FLUFF

Fragile Embrace by @aikaterini-drag

Imagine by @buckyalpine

Maced by @lostgirlmuseum

Happy Little Accidents by @espinosaurusrexex (veteran!bucky)

Ballerina by @widowsfics (ballerina!reader)

Spiritful by @rookthorne (lumberjack!bucky)

wallpaper by @cosmicbucky

That’s The Way Love Groes by @jobean12-blog

Paint ‘n’ Sip by @beyondspaceandstars

Caught in the Rain by @flowerpotmage

A Slip of a Tongue by @antiquarianfics

ANGST

What’s Wrong by @pellucid-constellations

chronicles by @cosmicbucky

verity by @/cosmicbucky

please don’t take him (even though you can) by @hansensgirl

SMUT

I’m insane, but I’m your baby by @sinner-as-saint (dark!sugarbaby!bucky)

Now or Never by @fandoms-writings (virgin!reader)