#Dark!Bucky x Reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eccentricallygothic · 1 year ago

Note

When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm.

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now.

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor.

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door.

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress.

Not that they would be doing any more of that.

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you.

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible.

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.

His eyes scan your form.

Beautiful.

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time.

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete.

It is the people that live in it.

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal.

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly.

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night.

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life.

You should have taken notice of the signs.

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem.

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was.

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence.

And Divine it was, you lived to learn.

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything.

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened?

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning.

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second.

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside.

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly.

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen.

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?"

He sighs.

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval.

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions."

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close.

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this.

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back.

The man is not chasing you like you expected.

But you don't want to stick around and find out why.

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door.

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead.

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes.

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused.

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying.

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently.

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one.

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet.

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home.

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands."

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that."

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet.

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone."

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours."

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery.

But you don't know when he does it.

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern.

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse.

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules.

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes.

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point.

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?"

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning.

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days.

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man.

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep.

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way.

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him.

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him.

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day.

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck.

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina.

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever.

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well.

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test.

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence.

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic.

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast.

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken.

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat.

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting.

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment.

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining.

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you.

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–"

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy.

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while.

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully.

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape.

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed.

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife.

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

What do you think hAH-

4K notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months ago

Text

the shadow’s soul obsession

kinktober, day five

a/n: extra, extra! come get your nasty monsterfucking, hot off the press!

summary: for the entirety of the rest of the night, you felt as if you were being watched. However, what you mere mortal didn’t know, was that the group of you college girls hadn’t been successful in communicating with any spirits on that autumn eve, but instead had been successful in cracking open a door, just wide enough for a demon to slip through.

warnings: demon!bucky barnes x virgin!reader, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, college au, halloween party, accidentally summoning a demon at a slumber party, bucky needs to "recharge his batteries" via sex (but virgins are the most potent), bad friends, monsterfucking, somno, loss of virginity, blood (just fit this fantasy), slutty demonic magic, kissing, size kink, belly bulge, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay, references to gaping and fisting

word count: 2602

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2024

“So, do you know yet what your costume’s gonna be for the omega kappa beta party?”

“Alice,” you looked to your friend leaning against the opposite side of the kitchen island, “I don’t even know if I’m going.”

“Oh, come on,” her head tilted, “you have to!”

“Yeah,” the blonde to your right then teasingly suggested, “you could go as an angel since you’re already just as sweet and pure as one.”

With each passing moment, the end of October crept ever nearer. You were at a slumber party with a few of your friends, who unlike you, didn’t still live at home with their mothers, but instead in a sorority house on campus.

The door to the kitchen then swung open and one of the other girls came waltzing in, “hey, look what I found!” she held what looked like a faded board game above her head.

“Oh my god,” Alice gasped, “is that what I think it is? Where did you even find it?”

“The attic,” she plopped the box down on the table and the lid popped off, letting everyone spot the old Ouija board inside, “so, anyone up for contacting some ghosts or what?”

When everyone around you swiftly agreed in the spirit of the season, you were the only one who didn’t, although the teasing that quickly drowned you, about you being a scaredy cat, pressured you into joining despite your initial fear.

Most of the girls leaned into your amusing anxiety and made the game more dramatic than it needed to be, taking every chance they got to make you jump in your seat. But none of their attempts rivalled the one towards the end when one of them spooked you so fiercely that your body shrivelled up and a shrill scream tore its way out your lungs. They all laughed at your reaction and abandoned the board, too entertained by the success in scaring you to continue and wrap up the pretend ritual in the proper way.

However, during every second of the eerie game and even ever past that, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, though it wasn’t just because of how scared you admittedly were, as there was someone else, something else, that caused that sensation to bubble up within you.

For the entirety of the rest of the night, you felt as if you were being watched. However, what you mere mortal didn’t know, was that the group of you college girls hadn’t been successful in communicating with any spirits on that autumn eve, but instead had been successful in cracking open a door, just wide enough for a demon to slip through.

From the second the sliver of him slipped through, Bucky felt drawn to you and instantly became completely and utterly entranced by you. Your soul was so bright and pure it nearly blinded him as he felt himself grow stronger merely from your presence.

Who would have thought such luck would have been on his side, for with a perfect and potent little virgin like you in his gasp, an entity such as he would be able to restore his full power in no time.

And when you eventually fell asleep on the couch and he greedily let his spectral touch ghost across your form, sliding off your blanket and coping a feel over your pyjamas, each caress he ravenously claimed felt to him like his lungs once again expanded and filled with oxygen, like he became a little more corporeal and regained just a little bit of his powers the longer and the fiercer he groped you.

Though what he truly needed to regain his full potential, unfortunately, had to wait, as his demonic grip caused you to stir from your slumber just enough for you to roll over into a new position and fall asleep again, never to think more of it than just a light slumber. But perhaps if he kept it up long enough, he’d soon regain enough of his prowess to make sure you wouldn’t rouse no matter what he stole from you in order to return to the grand demon he used to be.

The home you returned to the next day was just as empty as expected with only a kind note stuck to the fridge as an echo of your mother, reminding you that she wouldn’t be back from her business trip till far into the coming week.

When darkness fell upon the town and the moon rose up high in the sky, you went up to bed and swiftly drifted off into sleep.

As Bucky leaned down over your slumbering form, he smiled as he let a finger trace the edge of your face before he bent down and pressed his lips to your own.

Now, it wasn’t just a kiss he gave you, but a fiendish hex that forced your frame to keep on sleeping, no matter what, until the sun once again crested over the horizon.

“As much as I’d love for you to wake up and have you witness everything I’m about to do to you,” he brushed some of your hair out of your face, “we can’t have that,” his broad thumb briefly stroked your cheek, “at least not yet…”

Ripping the duvet off, he watched as goosebumps rose and dotted your skin from the chilly night air, how your nipples turned into pebbles beneath your thin nightgown.

While his consuming gaze raked down your form, his grasp pushed your sleepwear up and let it bunch around your hips, granting him a view of how the cotton of your underwear moulded around your soft centre.

A smirk twitched at the corners of his lips as he let himself drift back down, closer to your slumbering frame, “let’s see if we can fix this little problem…” before he pressed a hot kiss to your covered core, briefly running his split tongue over the fabric as the effects took hold.

When he tilted back, it wasn’t just his own saliva that now drenched your panties, but also your own juices as he had successfully scrounged up enough of his power to force your pussy into a state of desperation, making it extraordinarily leaky and sticky with cream and quite literally drool for him.

With a primal growl, the throbbing between his legs swayed him to dig his grip into your underwear and tear them off, tossing the shreds off to the side before he spread your legs wide.

Enclosing his fist around the base of himself, angry and flush in his grip, he offered himself an ouch of relief as he stared down at you.

“Hell… what I wouldn’t give to hear you moan and scream for me… to see fear arise in your mortal eyes at every little thing I’ll offer you… but that’ll have to be another time… can’t have you wake up and ruin the ritual…”’

As he rubbed his fat cock against the mess he’d made of you, he couldn’t help but smile at the staggering difference as his unholy length weighted down upon you, making you look so tiny in comparison, so easy for him to just break.

“Would you beg me to stop? Would you cry about how big this devil dick is? Whimper about how you couldn’t possibly take it, not even if you weren’t a pure little prude? Yeah, you probably wouldn’t even be able to take it then…” a dark chuckle then crackled within his broad chest, “good thing I don’t care,” before he ruthlessly slammed his cock inside, stretching your poor pussy out beyond belief.

He let out a deep moan at just how incredible you felt around him, how he had to strain himself to work past your strangling tightness and bury himself completely in your haven.

“Oh, well would you look at that…” a sly smile crept up on his lips as he glanced down at how you struggled to take him and spotted the tinge of crimson that stained his fat girth as he momentarily retracted, pulling out just till your cunt only clung around the bulbous head of him. His digits floated down to swipe some of your virginal blood up onto the pads of his fingertips before he brought them up to his lips and groaned as he let himself taste your ruined purity, letting himself regain even more of his vigour, “you are just fucking perfect…”

As he let his frame drift down closer to you, he draped himself over your slumbering form as he thrust mercilessly into you, watching you closely at the way his efforts caused you to writhe and tremble in your sleep.

Nibbling at your neck, his lips wandered further down as he ruthlessly rutted into you, splitting you open like the savage monster that he was, and eventually sank his sharp teeth into your shoulder.

With a low growl, he pushed himself back up, though even as the movement threatened to let his colossal cock leave the warm embrace of your tiny hole, his hands roughly found your hips and brought you back down onto him.

“Fuck…” he lifted your hips off the mattress and made your back arch obscenely as he used you like a toy, “you’re such a little whore and you don’t even know it yet…” his possessive grip dug into your hips so fiercely that his nails drew blood and left angry scratches in their wake.

His black eyes then found the dull bulge that rhythmically appeared in your lower belly at each and every one of his thrusts, “can’t wait to see how you react when you wake up tomorrow morning, all sore and swollen, wondering why you’re so sensitive. If only you knew that some big bad demon followed you home and tortured your pussy all night long…”

Perhaps his brutal fucking had forced your slumbering form to orgasm more than once, though it was hard for Bucky to ignore it when you came this last time as you squirted all over his fat girth.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he chuckled and kept up his ruthless rhythm, never pausing once as he made your gushing pussy give him each and every drop, “I knew it was true that virgins pack the most powerful punch for us unholy folk, but damn…” he slammed you down against him hard enough for his bullying tip to bruise your cervix, “you’re even better… I might just have to keep you after this…”

And when he soon tumbled over the edge and pumped your little pussy full of his demonic seed, his ethereal form flickered till it wasn’t at all ghostly any longer, till his full power regenerated and he now sat on your bed clear as day with his spent cock limp against his thick thigh and horns protruding from his temples.

Briefly, he swept his broad hand up your stomach before it scooped down to where you leaked with his essence.

“Look at you,” he pushed two fingers into your mess and pumped his hot cum that much deeper inside of you, “you’re still so fucking tight…” he struggled to force another thick digit in beside the others. As his cock began to twitch and swell once more, he quietly groaned, “guess that just means we aren’t done yet… you might have helped me with my little problem, but this ain’t over,” he tried and failed to slip his picky finger in beside the rest, “I haven’t finished breaking you in yet, little human,” his free hand found himself in silky strokes, “I won’t stop till you’re fucking gaping for me, till I fit my whole fist up in here,” his thumb quit its attempts at sneaking inside and instead extended up to crudely strum your puffy pearl, “till you’re utterly ruined and completely perfect for me…”

The bassy music rumbled the entire frat house like an earthquake as you leaned over to whisper to Alice that you’d be right back from your libation location mission.

Though when you stumbled into the kitchen, the crooked feathery wings on your back brushing against the doorframe as you passed, a loud sigh escaped you as your eyes scanned the various bottles lined up on the messy counter and discovered them all to be empty, “argh, seriously?”

That was exactly what you needed.

To be at a wild Halloween party without any alcohol in your system to make the obnoxious people more bearable and make you forget how you’d rather just go home and try to sleep as none of your efforts all weekend had granted you any ounce of rest, only left you more exhausted than the day before and bizarrely enough also making you sore in the oddest of ways.

But then as all hope seemed lost, a voice echoed from the corner of the kitchen, “hey, you like tequila?” and you glanced up to see a man in an elaborate demonic costume holding up a full bottle for you to spot.

“Thank you,” your tense shoulders dropped slightly as you offered him a smile and stepped closer, “though I don’t know if an angel like me should accept a drink from a devil like you,” the joke slipped out of you as you neared him.

As a bright grin crept up on the man’s lips, he light-heartedly squinted down at you and played along, “hm, yeah, you’re probably right. We demons are an untrustworthy lot. But, I am your only chance at getting drunk and numbing these dumbasses out,” he seized a plastic cup and began to twist the cap off, “so, what do you say?”

“What’ll it cost me? To make a deal like that with a devil?” you kept up the gag, “just my soul or do you want my firstborn or something?”

Naturally assuming that the handsome stranger was still just joking around, you saw him smile as he poured you a drink and uttered, “oh, your soul will do just fine, sweetheart.”

As he handed you the cup, he joined you as you raised the hard liquor up to your lips, taking a sip of his own straight from the bottle, though he somehow didn’t make a face like you did when the harsh booze poured down your throat, in fact he didn’t even blink as he tipped the bottle back and kept his intense stare glued to you.

“Your costume is really amazing,” you complimented as you let your gaze wander over his burly frame, “your coloured contacts? And those horns? I’ve never seen prosthetics as good as those before.”

You thought the flattery would have pushed him to elaborate, but instead, the mysterious man just murmured, “thank you,” and didn’t entertain the subject any further.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” you uttered and noticed the few grey hairs that faintly speckled his scruff, “are you a professor?”

“No, I’m not,” he shook his head.

A shiver ran down your spine as his stare continued to stay glued upon you, “then what are you doing at a frat party? No offence, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you just look a bit too old to be a student. Not that you couldn’t be, maybe you are–”

“I’m not a student,” he cut you off, “I just haven’t been feeling that well lately and the person who helped me get better is here, so that’s why I went out tonight, to this college party of all places, to thank her properly and hopefully make her all mine…”

885 notes · View notes

bucksangel · 20 days ago

Text

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

#let me know what yall think!!#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barns #bucky barns imagine #stalker!bucky #bucky fic rec #my writing #my stuff

436 notes · View notes

cheriebrat · 8 days ago

Note

Bucky gently wiping his girl’s never ending tears as she tries to apologize for trying to escape a third time, promising him she’ll never do it again only for him to chain her back up for the rest of the night but he knows that she’ll be his perfect little Stockholm princess in no time, especially when the winter soldier is there to help sort her out💞

fuckkkkkk.

warnings; fem!reader, kidnapping, early stages of stockholm syndrome, soft but manipulative bucky, mentions of the winter soldier coming out to play (😏), (perhaps opportunity for an au here!!!)

Your cheeks are glossy with the seemingly never ending wave of tears that portend their descent over your flushed cheeks. Your pulse thrums against your neck, skittering like a nervous doe when Bucky's thumb slides over the tender spot beneath your jaw. His amorous touch only serves to have you sobbing harder, tearing at the loose fitting tee that hangs around your neck as though the fabric is suffocating you.

"Shh, shh," Bucky coos, a thumb coasting the length of your waterline – a futile attempt to plug your tear ducts and slow the second onslaught of frantic tears. "Take it easy."

"I'm sorry," you wail. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have done it."

Your breath comes in wheezing pants, voice petering out into a whisper as terror's icy grip clamps around your throat and you start to sob in earnest. Bucky sighs, scooping you up tight against his chest and pressing a chaste peck to your sweat-slick temple.

You thrash and cant away from the touch, your body poised tightly and waiting for the punishing blow that is no doubt on its way. His arms tighten over your frame, biceps bulging with the effort it's taking to keep you from squirming out of his grip.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, baby. Stop," he growls, his voice a harsh, grating bite against your fragile ears. Bucky's cadence had come out crueller than he would have liked, and he pets your hair in an effort to dissuade you from panicking beneath his firm grasp.

"Please, I won't do it again. You have to believe me, I'll never do it again," you snivel, bowing your head low until your features are obscured.

"You said that last time, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You can't keep doin' this. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Bile crawls up your throat, hot and fast. Your chest burns.

"I feel sick."

"I know." He pulls the hair back from your balmy cheeks as you start to retch and heave, sobs still clawing from your chest all the while. You know what comes next, as does he.

"Please don't- don't put me down there. Please, I'm sorry."

"Do you need me to let Winter out, hm? You want him to take you down there, or me?"

You go stock still. Everything slows, Bucky's voice sticking to your ears like syrup. "No, no. I'll be good, I'm sorry," you croak, lips filling with air as you suppress another retch.

The mere mention of the soldier is enough to halt every ounce of defiance in your body. Winter is far less forgiving than Bucky, and you're not willing to take your chances.

Not tonight.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, smearing a sticky kiss along your cheekbone. "You stay down there tonight and be good for me, and we'll do something nice tomorrow, how about that?" he bargains. "I'll let you pick a movie to watch, and you can sleep in bed with me for as long as you want, yeah?"

You sag like dead weight against Bucky's chest, seeping up the warmth of the skin-on-skin contact while you still have the chance. You're in for a very long - very cold - night.

"Please don't do this to me," you whisper. Desperation clings to your every syllable, weighs down every word you speak until your voice is thick with tears.

"You know I have to, sweetheart."

His kindness makes it worse, you think. If he was cruel, if he didn't show you this... softness, maybe you could find it in yourself to hate him.

But the way he lets you cling to him, kisses the top of your head as he delivers your punishment, murmuring soft, adoring affirmations all the while... You just can't.

And you know when he lets you out in the morning, you'll be good for him. You'll accept him, in his entirety. You'll let him kiss you and tuck you into his side like you've always been there. You'll let him love you.

Maybe you can learn to love him, too.

Bucky knows you can. He just has to give it time.

210 notes · View notes

steves-sub · 6 months ago

Text

Time for Action

Dark!Team Cap (Steve, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, Wanda) x innocent!female reader

Summary: The team's plan is finally going into action.

warning: Non-con drugging, hypnosis, deceiving people

A/N: I couldn't leave you hanging, so I'm back to finish the series. A lot has changed for me since I started this journey. I'm in a much better place now – happier, healthier, and pursuing my passion for special education. I also found love, which has greatly impacted my life. I may not be writing again anytime soon, but I'll always be grateful for the support of this community. These stories kept me going when things were tough, and I hope they bring you as much joy as you've brought me.

tags: @rihannabale @sideeve @apollosouls-blog @luvfromdixiedoll @chemtrails-club

The long-awaited day had finally come. After carefully applying your makeup and smoothing out your dress, you couldn't contain your excitement about spending time with Steve and his friends. To mark the occasion, you even wore a new dress - a lovely white sundress adorned with sunflowers, a charming nod to Steve's nickname.

As I heard a "ding" from my cell phone, I walked over to check it. To my surprise, it was a message from Steve saying, "Be there in 5 minutes." Despite my insistence on biking, Steve was determined to drive me. "You are a princess; you should be treated like one," he said with a smile. This level of care and consideration from a friend was something I had never experienced before.

As the sound of the car pulling up reached your ears, you gracefully descended the stairs, your luscious curls bouncing with each step. The scent of Steve's potent cologne wafted through the air as you closed the door behind you. Glancing back, you caught sight of him emerging from his car, clad in a crisp white button-down and navy pants. It seemed impossible, but your attraction to him intensified in that moment. As Steve made his way towards you, you could have sworn you heard a low growl escape him. "Wow, y/n, you truly are a sunflower. You look absolutely stunning, my darling," his words caused a rush of warmth to flood your cheeks."

“Thank you, Steve! I chose this dress specifically for this occasion. I hoped to leave a lasting impression on your friends." Steve enveloped you in a warm embrace, and as he did, you thought you felt his hand subtly moving towards your lower back, but before you could dwell on it, he gently pulled away. "Don't worry too much; I'm sure they will adore you, just like I do," he assured you with a playful touch on your nose, causing you to let out a spontaneous giggle. Steve gracefully circled around you and gallantly opened the door of his sleek black car, a vehicle worth more than your annual salary. "Step in, my princess. Your carriage awaits," he declared as he entered the vehicle himself and closed the door behind you.

As he settled into the driver's seat, he reached behind him and retrieved a water bottle. "The drive might take a while, so I brought you a water bottle," he said with a warm smile. You accepted the bottle, returning his smile, and twisted off the cap. The water had an unusual taste, but you didn't want to cause any inconvenience. Keeping your thoughts to yourself, you continued on your journey.

After half an hour of casual conversation with Steve, he steered onto a narrow dirt road. "It's just a short drive down this road, and then we'll be there," he reassured, gently taking your hand. "Don't worry, sunflower. I promise they will adore you," he repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time. Throughout the journey, Steve did his best to ease your nerves, chatting with you and offering you sips of that peculiar water. While you did start to feel more at ease, the anticipation still made you jittery. Finally, he pulled up to an exquisite house. "Wow," you marveled as you gazed out the window, "you guys live here?" You had little knowledge about Steve and never would have guessed that he was well-off. "Yeah," he chuckled, "my friends and I have been renovating this house for a while. It's our retirement plan."

I turned to look at Steve, my face twisted in confusion. "Retirement plan? You're not even 40!" Steve chuckled once again at my comment. "Well, we all needed a break, so we decided to come up here for a bit," he spoke as he expertly parked the car in the circle driveway. "Are you ready?" he asked, extending his hand towards me. I took his hand in mine and squeezed it, replying, "Ready." He smiled back at me as he exited the car to open the door for me.

As the two of you approached the door, Steve reached out and turned the handle, allowing the door to swing open. "Hey guys, we're here!" he called out, his voice echoing through the seemingly empty house. Suddenly, the distinct sound of clicking heels filled the air, and a young redhead in a vibrant red coat appeared before you. "Oh my gosh, you're here!" she exclaimed, enveloping you in a warm, enthusiastic hug. "Steve has not stopped talking about you. You’re Y/n, right? I'm Wanda," she said with a smile. "It's so nice to meet you too! I wish I could say the same about you," you teased, playfully nudging Steve's arm. "Oh, that's just Steve. He's a pretty reserved person. Come in, come in, everyone’s in the kitchen," Wanda said, taking the lead as she ushered you inside. Following her lead, you kicked off your sandals and made your way into the inviting warmth of the kitchen. "See, not so bad," Steve remarked quietly. "Yeah, Wanda seems super nice," you agreed. "And we're only just getting started," Steve added, gently holding your hand as you both stepped into the bustling kitchen.

The two of us walked into the kitchen and spotted the rest of the group. A striking redhead in a sleek black dress perched on the counter, enjoying a glass of wine. A confident black man was busy setting up the table, while another man with a metallic arm was hard at work in the kitchen. Wanda caught their attention and introduced me with a warm smile, prompting the others to follow suit. The redhead, Natasha, strolled over to me and greeted me affectionately. "I'm Natasha. Your dress is stunning; I can see why Steve calls you sunflower," she remarked with a smirk, casting a glance at Steve as she embraced me. "Thank you, yours is gorgeous as well," I replied.

The man who was setting the table made his way over to us. "So, this is the famous Y/N Steve can't stop talking about? I can see why," he said with a warm smile as he confidently walked over. "Sam Wilson, nice to meet you," he said as he extended his hand. I couldn't help but giggle as I looked at his hand. "Thank you; you are all super kind to me," I replied with a smile. "Well, Steve said you were a special friend, so you deserve to feel special," the last man said as he extended his hand for a handshake. "Bucky Barnes, we are so happy you are here," he said warmly. I couldn't help but feel grateful for the kindness of these people and how lucky Steve must be to have such thoughtful friends. "Told you they would love you, sunflower," Steve said as he brought me in for a side hug.

As I made my way towards the counter where Natasha was, Bucky informed me that dinner would be ready in a few minutes. He listed the menu as salad, pasta, chicken, brussels sprouts, and homemade mini cakes courtesy of Wanda. Natasha then offered me a glass of wine. I accepted and requested a Pinot Grigio, and as she went to the fridge, she discreetly took a small vial of clear liquid from the refrigerator before leaving the kitchen with Steve following her.

Once they reached the wine cellar, Natasha's eyes sparkled with excitement as she deftly grabbed the bottle she sought. "Everything ready?" Steve inquired, wrapping his arms around her waist. Their relationship had evolved into one of friends with benefits since they had been on the run, but now they no longer needed to rely on such arrangements. "As long as she drank the water you gave her, then we will be set," Natasha confirmed, setting the wine glass on the counter and retrieving the vial. "She doesn't feel anything right now; she's just relaxed. This, however, will make her more open to our suggestions and make her easier to seduce. We will have her in our hands in no time." Natasha finished pouring the wine and closed the bottle with a sense of determination. "I wanted to have her right then and there when I saw her in that sundress. She has no idea what she is doing to me," Steve confessed. "Soon, Steve, soon," Natasha called out to Steve as she returned to the party, him following closely behind.

Natasha and Steve glided into the room, Natasha holding a delicate glass of wine. "Here you go, angel," Natasha said as she gracefully handed the glass to the recipient. "Perfect timing, the food is ready," Bucky exclaimed. "Do you need help with anything?" you kindly asked the cooks. "Nonsense, you are our guest. Go have a seat; we will be over shortly," Wanda said as she expertly opened the oven. The rest of the group approached the table, which Sam meticulously set. You found yourself seated between Steve and Natasha, with Sam, Bucky, and Wanda on the other side.

Steve rose from his chair with a beer in hand as the delicious food was placed on the table, and everyone took their seats. "I would like to propose a toast to Y/N," he announced, causing a flutter in your stomach as everyone smiled at you. "Thank you for gracing us with your presence tonight. I feel that this evening will be etched in our memories forever. Cheers!" he exclaimed, raising his glass as everyone followed suit. It was clear that tonight was going to be truly extraordinary.

After an hour had passed, not a morsel of food remained, and the plates sparkled clean. It had been quite some time since you felt so carefree and relaxed, and the feeling was beautiful. As Wanda and Bucky shared a hilarious story, you found yourself laughing along with them while the others tidied up after dinner. Natasha approached you with another glass of wine, but you declined, explaining to her with a tinge of sadness that you and Steve would have to leave soon. The evening had been so enjoyable that you wished it wouldn't end. "Don't worry, sweetie. You're more than welcome to spend the night if you'd like," Steve called out from the kitchen. "But I don't have anything with me for an overnight stay," you quickly pointed out.

"We have a spare bedroom, and you can borrow some sweats. Seriously, don't sweat about it," Wanda said with a warm smile. "Are you sure about that?" you questioned Wanda, feeling grateful for her hospitality. "We are positive," Natasha responded reassuringly as she once again handed the glass to you, her eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Okay, okay. But this is the last glass; I'm starting to feel the effects of drinking," you commented, letting out a light-hearted laugh. Unbeknownst to you, the group exchanged knowing glances, anticipation for their plan evident in their eyes.

As Steve suggested heading to the living room to wrap up the evening, he approached you and gently massaged your shoulders. You yawned, feeling the wine's effects, and quickly apologized for your drowsiness. "Sorry, I just got sleepy. This wine might be stronger than I thought," you chuckled. As you stood up and headed to the living room, you noticed your vision becoming blurry, causing you to lose your balance.

"Are you feeling okay, honey?" Bucky asked, his concerned gaze fixed on you. "I just feel a bit dizzy. Do you mind if I go to bed early?" you inquired, steadying yourself against the back of the couch. "Why don't you lie down next to me? It might help," suggested Steve as he came over to you. You hoped that his suggestion would bring some relief as Steve gently guided you to the plush couch. He positioned you in the center, and everyone respectfully kept their distance, allowing you some space.

You heard a gentle buzzing sound beginning and looked around to locate its source. "What's that noise?" you asked as you attempted to sit up, but the throbbing in your head persisted. "Oh, it's just some soft music. It's meant to help you relax," Wanda reassured you as you felt Steve gently guide your head back onto his shoulder where it had been resting. In front of you, the TV displayed a captivating screen saver. It consisted of black and white squares merging into each other. Strangely, it was pretty soothing and difficult to look away from.

As you commented on the intriguing screen, you noticed your speech slowing down unintentionally. In response, Sam softly remarked, "Yeah, I know. It came with the TV. We tried to change it but couldn't figure it out." Unbeknownst to you, Wanda had silently approached from behind. Her hand emitted a crimson magical energy that flowed into your head, inducing a sudden and profound relaxation.

"It's not too bad; it can be quite relaxing to look at. Don't you think it's relaxing?" Wanda asked, her words echoing in your mind whenever she mentioned "relaxing." "Relaxing?" you mumbled sleepily. "Yes, darling, relaxing," Steve whispered into your ear as he gently brushed some hair away from your face, ensuring your gaze remained fixed on the screen before you. Despite your efforts to look away, it was difficult to resist.

As your eyelids grew heavier, it became increasingly difficult to keep them open. "Are you getting sleepy over there, my lovely sunflower?" Steve softly chuckled. You attempted to shake your head, but the effort was futile. "It's okay to relax and sleep, darling. Just close your eyes and let go," Bucky's voice whispered. "I don't want to," you replied in the faintest of whispers.

Natasha's soothing voice filled the room as she said, "Why not? It's okay to relax and sleep. To close those heavy eyes and sleep." Her gentle hand massaged my shoulders, lulling me into an even deeper state of relaxation. "Sleep?" I questioned. Steve let out a chuckle and reassured me, "That's right, honey, just sleep for me. I'll keep you safe. Just close those heavy, heavy eyes and sleep for me." Each word from Steve felt like a gentle command, and I found myself unable to resist as I followed his instructions, succumbing to the irresistible urge to close my heavy eyelids.

470 notes · View notes

deliciousangelfestival · 4 months ago

Text

"Darling, bad luck seems endless." - Bucky Barnes

Summary: You've always been haunted by bad luck your entire life, despising it deeply, until you meet someone who finds it amusing.

Character: dark!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Author's Note: Hello, everyone; this story is for the sleepover event hosted by @the-slumberparty. What I chose is a strawberry sundae with gummy bears as the topping.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 .

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

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

Bad luck.

You always felt that bad luck followed you everywhere. Growing up, you didn't realize it, but it became clear to you after becoming an adult.

There was one time when you had prepared for an exam, but two days before, you got a high fever and had to take the exam all by yourself.

When you got an offer to study piano abroad, your father's business went bankrupt.

Then, when you finally got into your dream college, your father's business went bankrupt. Again.

When you wanted to study and paid for an extra course, the teacher lied and told you to study alone. It turned out you could learn everything from the internet. You were taken in by his sweet talk because of his experience working in the industry.

After you graduated, you went to work at a studio, but it went bankrupt because the owner embezzled the money to buy a Ferrari.

Then, you were introduced by a relative to an investment. Because you saw her enjoying the profit, you put all your money into the investment. For eight months, it went great, but after that, everything went to hell because it was a scam. You lost the money, the money that your father had left you. It still pains you.

Each time it feels like life is going your way, it soon comes crashing down when you face another misfortune.

As a last resort, you went to a priest but received no answers. You visited a shaman but still found no answers. Then, you went to a paranormal who said, “Bad luck fucks you like Zeus fucks his prey.”

‘Well, shit,’ you thought.

Not knowing what life would bring you, you tried to find another way to make money by taking a class in jewelry making. You pretended to hate it and not enjoy making jewelry.

You were scared that each time you enjoyed or liked something, bad luck would come like judgment day with no warning and take all the joy from you.

But bad luck can't be fooled. It appeared again in another form. It turned out the jewelry store owner was actually a gangster in the diamond business. It was a risky job, but it helped to pay the bills.

Sir Galileo, with his grey hair and special glasses that he always wore to appraise diamonds, was an eccentric man. He always dressed as royalty and wore white gloves. He insisted from the beginning that you call him a 'sir.'

He always brought you with him whenever he went to see a client. Specifically, your job was to drive the car, take notes, and design jewelry for clients. The clients were unique, too: mafia, drug dealers, etc.

Of all the clients, there was only one that caught your attention. You liked him because he was a regular customer and always paid upfront.

James Buchanan Barnes, or his nickname ‘Bucky’. You didn’t know much about him, but he was loaded with money. His mansion, his vintage car collection, and the rings he wore on his fingers were all testaments to his wealth.

Every time you met him, it was always at a different place. It was never the same location.

Damn, each gold and diamond in his rings could solve world hunger. Even Sir Galileo respected Bucky.

Today, Bucky called both of you again.

When you both arrived at a new location, another mansion, you couldn't help but be impressed by its grandeur. The sprawling estate was surrounded by lush gardens and towering gates. The mansion itself was a blend of modern architecture and classic elegance, with large windows reflecting the sunlight and intricate details on every corner.

Bucky looked at you while opening his arms wide. “My Da Vinci,” he greeted warmly.

You blushed when he called you that. His nickname for you always made you feel a mixture of pride and embarrassment. You looked down briefly, trying to hide your flushed cheeks.

“I can't wait to see the design you've made,” he said, turning to Sir Galileo. “And I want you to take a look at that ruby stone I got.”

“Sure,” Sir Galileo replied with a nod.

Once everyone was seated in the lavishly decorated living room, you grabbed your tablet and showed Bucky the jewelry design you had created for him. Instead of the usual ring or bracelet, you had designed a watch that fit his character perfectly—sleek, elegant, and powerful.

Bucky inhaled his cigar, examining the design closely. “This is great,” he said, a rare smile forming on his lips.

You felt a surge of pride when your work was appreciated, but you quickly dismissed the feeling. You didn’t want another bout of bad luck to hit you like a truck.

“How did you get this ruby?” Sir Galileo asked, still scrutinizing the stone with his special glasses.

“Tsk,” Bucky clicked his tongue. “Don’t remind me. My man got hurt getting that.”

“Another incident?” Sir Galileo inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky exhaled smoke from his mouth, his expression darkening. “We’ve never had a casualty like this before. I feel like we have bad luck.”

You flinched when you heard ‘bad luck.’ Could it be that your bad luck had moved to Bucky?

You hoped nothing bad would happen to Bucky because you enjoyed working for him.

But once again, bad luck visited you. This time, it came in the form of a bullet shooting through the window. It was a surprise attack.

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed as he shielded you from the bullet and hid behind a chair.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his face close to yours, making your heartbeat quicken.

“I… I'm fine,” you stammered.

Bucky took a peek out the window, his eyes narrowing. “How did they find out my hideout?” he cursed.

You stayed quiet. Could it be because of you?

Sir Galileo, hiding behind a table, said urgently, “We should run.”

“No shit,” Bucky responded. He called his guards to prepare for an escape.

The three of you stayed low until you reached the garage. You all piled into a black SUV, the engine roaring to life.

Never had you imagined you’d be in a car chase. The adrenaline pumped through your veins as the SUV sped down the driveway, bullets ricocheting off the sides.

The roar of the engine filled your ears as the black SUV tore down the narrow streets. Bucky was driving with a fierce determination, weaving in and out of traffic, while Sir Galileo barked directions from the passenger seat. Behind you, the pursuing cars kept gaining, their headlights piercing through the dusk like the eyes of predators closing in on their prey. Bullets shattered the rear window, and the vehicle swerved violently as you tried to avoid the onslaught.

The situation felt hopeless. You could see the grim set of Bucky’s jaw, the way Sir Galileo’s hands gripped the dashboard. They were in danger because of you. You had to do something. You took a deep breath and made a decision.

“Leave me here,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute.

Bucky glanced at you, confusion and anger flashing across his face. “What? You've got nothing to do with this.”

“I think I do,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your bad luck pressing down on you. You reached for the door handle and flung the door open, the rush of wind pulling at you.

“You're crazy!!!” Bucky yelled, reaching for you, but you were already tumbling out of the car. The asphalt rushed up to meet you, and you hit the ground hard, rolling painfully to a stop. Your body ached all over, but you forced yourself to sit up. Through the haze of pain, you saw Bucky’s car speeding away. Relief washed over you, knowing they had a chance to escape.

“Click.”

The unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked froze you in place. You looked up to see several men emerging from the pursuing cars, their guns trained on you.

“You’re coming with us,” one of them said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.

They hauled you to your feet, roughly searching you for weapons. You winced at the pain but felt a grim satisfaction knowing Bucky and Sir Galileo were getting away. The men shoved you towards one of their cars, and you knew your fate was now in their hands.

🍀🍀🍀🍀

The days blurred together as you sat in a dimly lit room, the only illumination coming from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Your captors had bound your wrists to the chair, and the rough rope chafed against your skin. They had been relentless, taking turns to interrogate you, their questions a mix of frustration and suspicion.

“Tell us about Bucky,” one of them demanded, leaning in close, his breath reeking of tobacco and stale beer.

“I’m just a jewelry designer,” you insisted, your voice hoarse from hours of questioning.

“No. You’re more than that,” he sneered. “Barnes never invited the same person more than twice. You must mean something to him.”

You blinked in surprise. That was news to you. Bucky had always seemed so casual, so composed. You had no idea he had such strict rules.

“I told you, I’m just a designer,” you repeated, trying to maintain your composure.

‘BANG.’

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the hideout. The walls shook, and dust rained down from the ceiling. Panic spread through the room as your captors scrambled, their plans falling apart.

“Fuck! Nothing’s going our way!” one of them shouted, his voice tinged with fear.

You couldn’t help but think that maybe this was your fault, that your bad luck had followed you here and was now wreaking havoc on these gangsters. The thought made your stomach churn with guilt.

Then, you heard gunshots. The sharp cracks echoed through the building, and you instinctively covered your ears, trying to block out the chaos. Moments later, the door burst open, and you saw Bucky standing there, a fierce determination in his eyes. He quickly dispatched your captors with a series of precise shots, his movements fluid and lethal.

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered, surveying the scene before his eyes locked onto you. He holstered his gun and hurried to your side, cutting the ropes that bound you.

Bucky helped you stand up, his eyes searching your face. “I still can't believe you."

“Me?” you began, trying to find the right words.

Bucky cut you off, a rare, almost gentle smile touching his lips. “You’re the only woman willing to sacrifice for me.”

He still can't believe that a girl like you, whom he only knew as a designer, was willing to sacrifice for him. Bucky has been interested in you because of your background, wondering how a good girl like you could end up working with Sir Galileo.

“It’s all…” You started, but then you felt something cold press against the side of your forehead.

'Click.'

You gasped in shock, your heart pounding as you realized Bucky was pointing a gun at you.

Bucky’s smile turned cold and frightening. “Now, dear, tell me why you said it’s all because of you before you jumped off the car.”

“Because I'm bad luck,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Huh?” Bucky's eyes narrowed.

“You probably think I’m insane, but I bring bad luck wherever I go,” you explained, your voice shaking.

“Hah!” Bucky's eyes widened for a moment before he burst into laughter. “Hahahaha…”

He laughed so hard that he wiped a tear from his eye. “This is getting more interesting.”

His laughter sent chills down your spine. He found it amusing, but to you, it was a curse. His grip on the gun didn’t waver as he stepped closer, his presence overpowering.

Bucky leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. “We’ll get along just fine,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@chemtrails-club

@dexter99

@seresingirlie

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@tfatwsoldir

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #buckybarnes #dark!bucky x reader #bucky au #soft!dark bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female!reader

302 notes · View notes

highonmarvel · 1 year ago

Text

Ribs

Bucky Barnes: Mob!Bucky finds you. 18+ only.

additional content warnings here!

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

Non Con Warning!

What’s scarier than dating Bucky? Leaving him.

You thought with dating the most notorious mob boss in New York, the biggest danger would be his enemies, no: the biggest threat to your safety was him. When you had first met him, you hadn’t known who he was, having only moved to New York a few months prior. He was charming, and he had an air of danger about him you couldn’t help but be attracted to; you thought it would be fun, a New York bad boy, he was all mysterious. You didn’t have any friends at the time, so no one could have warned you about who he really was, and by the time you found out, you were in too deep.

Maybe him being suspiciously rich should have raised a red flag, because even the most pretentious of the wealthy don’t take a limo to a bar, but he had, that first night you met him. The loud chatter had ever so slightly dimmed when he entered the bar, but you only thought it was because he was wearing an expensive suit, and though you rolled your eyes at the flashy display, you couldn’t help but stare at him as he made his way through the room—crowds parted, everyone tried to appear that they hadn’t noticed him, but it was crystal they had. You can’t not notice a man like that.

He disappeared into a back room with two men trailing behind him, and after a few minutes emerged looking slightly disheveled, but satisfied. You tried your hardest to focus on… something else when he sat down beside you and ordered a whiskey, but that was practically impossible when everything about him was magnetic. You chanced a look at him only to find him already staring at you, blue eyes twinkling with a mischievousness you couldn’t quite place and a small smirk. He had taken you home that night.

You hadn’t fled because of his business, selfishly, you could live with the fact he hurt other people—for a while, you could live with the fact he hurt you too, because he just had you captivated. He was harsh, brutal, but could also be loving, he bent over backwards to your every desire—say the word and he’d do it.

Except when you asked him to stop.

You had to leave New York altogether, you knew; he ran the whole fucking city, there was no way you could hide from him in the kingdom he ruled. You had struggled to pick where to go next, if you had had the money, you honestly would have left the fucking continent, started a new life in Namibia or Australia or Japan or however far away from him as you could get, but for now you were restricted to the States. Was Los Angeles too big a city for him to find you, or was it too obvious? Maybe he had people there, you had no idea. Would a small town be too quiet to scream for help, or so obscure he wouldn’t even think to look there?

You settled on a random town in Colorado.

You had ditched your phone the second you could—you had had to hold onto it a bit longer in order to get around, and received many calls and angry texts, but you had tossed it into a street somewhere in Oklahoma and picked up a random brick phone just to have. You thought you were being dramatic at first, taking all these measures, but no, James Barnes is the most powerful man in New York state, more powerful than you could have imagined when you first discovered who he was. He runs everything. He always gets what he wants, and he wants you.

I’ll find you you fucking cunt.

His last text message to you before you had destroyed your phone. You didn’t doubt he could.

You cut your hair, dyed it a shade darker, and spent the first month looking over your shoulder, jumping at shadows, barely speaking to anyone, unsure of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, even from so far away you remained cautious. Picking a job was difficult; if you got an office job, could he find out through fucking white collar records or something? If you got a job in retail, would someone recognise you and alert him?

You got a job at a bookstore—fairly quiet, and the rows of shelves seemed like good enough hiding places were he to hunt you down. Hunt.

In front of the mirror, you pull up your t-shirt to examine your ribs: the bruises are starting to fade, and there’s only a dull pain when you run cold fingers over the light blue. The final reminders of the night you had feared for your life, the night you had decided you had to leave, were starting to fade.

Bucky had gotten violent many times before, but never had you feared for your life; you genuinely thought he was going to kill you.

He had come home fucking livid like you’d never seen before, and three months later you still have no clue as to why. At least when he had been drinking his blows were slightly less hard and you were sometimes (very rarely) able to outrun him and lock yourself in a bathroom for the night, but that night he was drunk purely on anger.

You were genuinely surprised he hadn’t broken your ribs; just hit after hit until you could barely breathe—you thought you’d suffocate. Turns out he had fractured your right foot, but even still you left New York limping badly, knowing if you stopped even to just get it checked out, you’d never make it out the city.

Here, in your new town, you got your foot checked out and fixed up by a friendly doctor, Dean, who you’d taken a liking to. Though it was a bit worse for wear considering you’d left it unchecked for a week, and even now you still couldn’t walk quite right, he assured you you’d make a full recovery.

Dean and you had been growing closer, and you thought he would eventually ask you out, until one day he stopped visiting you at work—usually he’d come in every Wednesday afternoon, but he hadn’t, and you couldn’t reach him online. You even went into his practice, but his assistant had said he’d just taken a camping trip. Your stomach twisted, but you left it, and took he had just gone away for a while.

Deep down, you knew.

The third Wednesday afternoon Dean hasn’t dropped it. You walk back to your place a little down; despite not knowing him well, you were really growing to like him.

You sigh, kicking off your shoes as you enter your apartment and into the pile by the door. You turn on the lights as you make your way through the small place, still limping slightly: corridor, light on; kitchen, light on; living room, light on.

You can’t even say your blood runs ice cold, more like it freezes in your veins.

Bucky is seated comfortably in your armchair, of course nursing a drink, face entirely stoic, and eyes fixated on yours, as if he had been staring at that exact spot for hours, knowing you would fall into his line of vision.

But the door was locked, you want to cry, How did he get in? No windows are broken, nothing.

“Sweetheart,” he coos as he sets his drink on the side table, “I’ve missed you.”

“Why?” is all you can muster, barely a whisper, more like a nearly silent whistle in wind, one you can only hear if you were to really strain for it, and if you knew what to listen for. Why is he here? After three fucking months, you thought (hoped) he’d just lost interest—this can’t be the first time he’s had a girl run away from him considering how he treated you. Why is he so set on this? You can only imagine it’s stubbornness and pride, not wanting to lose a prize, no matter how ill he treated it. And why you?

Of course, though, you can’t articulate any of these thoughts, you can barely even think them, can’t process them, all turning to a light buzz in your in your mind, one that could be mistaken for pure static—just absence of thought. No thoughts, all thoughts, you can’t even care about.

“Of course I missed my favourite girl,” he offers, a lopsided smirk forming on his handsome features, “Sit,” he instructs, so gently you wonder if you’ve imagined it—a very direct order (and you know he doesn’t like to be disobeyed), yet delivered in the softest manner.

The bruises on the right of your ribcage sting as you stare back at him, unmoving. Bucky never repeats himself, and he doesn’t now, seeming to overlook your defiance (though really it’s shock) as he leans forward slightly and begins speaking to you.

“You’re a smart girl, I can tell from how you really tried to cover your traces when you left, huh? You’re a smart girl, so why would you do something so stupid?”

He stands, and you stumble back with a whimper at a harsh misstep on your injured foot.

“And now you’re out here all alone… you need someone to take care of you; look at you, honey,” he gestures to your foot, and if you could get your vocal chords to work, you would scream at him that he did this.

He stalks towards you, and where the sudden adrenaline comes from, you have no idea, but you dart for the front door. He’s on you in a second, slamming your head against the door and watching you slide down. He stands over you a foot on either side of your body and looks down on you, slightly amused.

He’s pure evil.

It occurs to you the front door is locked anyway, you’re caged under him in the narrow corridor, and so you try to crawl through his legs, but he turns and grabs you by your injured foot.

You shriek in pain and desperately try to claw forward, but he tugs you back and twists harshly so you have no choice but to turn over or risk him twisting your fucking foot off.

With more strength than you’ve ever mustered, you swing your left foot up and kick him hard in the crotch. He howls in pain as he drops your foot.

“You fucking bitch!”

You scramble to stand and dart for your bedroom, hoping to climb out the window. He limps after you, and you cry out as he grabs a fistful of hair and tugs you back. You manage to stumble into the bedroom. He grips the doorway and you slam the door after him, hearing a deafening crunch and a yell behind you. You push your back against the door, planting your feet firmly in the ground and trying with all your bodyweight to keep him out, but he easily blows it in, and you fall forward.

You start screaming at him and kicking, but he catches your legs, leaving you to only pathetically wiggle underneath him. He leans down and shouts, “Shut the fuck up!” bringing down a hand you feebly attempt to grasp to stop him, but he slaps you, “You’re a fucking cunt!”

You assume you’re crying, but you can’t feel anything on your cheeks but the sting of his hand.

He drops down to his knees and straddles you easily, despite your struggling against him. He punches you in the face, his rings leaving deep cuts against your cheek. Again, and again, and again, until his knuckles are bloody from the cuts he’s left. You attempt to cough but he brings a fist down and punches your throat. You can barely gasp before he grabs your neck and pulls you up close to his face.

His voice is dangerously low as he drawls, “You’re lucky I have the decency to fuck you on the bed.” He spits in your face and slams your head back down into the floor. He gets off you and, before you can even move, kicks you in the ribs; you can feel the bruises—the healing bruises, they were healing—bloom once again against your skin, against your bones. You roll over before he grabs your left arm, twisting harshly and pulling you across the small room.

You feel your shoulder pop out of place and scream louder than you ever have in your life, an intense white hot pain shooting across your shoulder as it’s dislocated. You can’t even beg him to stop through your sobs and unbearable pain, you can’t breathe, you want to throw up.

This time, you almost wish he does kill you. You wish for him to kill you.

He pulls you up onto the bed, your shoulder blade sliding further across your nerves and sparking pain as intense as the first few seconds all over again. He tosses his suit jacket to the side as you try to sit up. He presses down hard against your injured shoulder, and you choke on your own cry, suffocating more than screaming, at this point.

He punches up from your chin and your head lolls back, your teeth hitting each other harshly, before he uses the opportunity to grasp your throat with one hand, tearing your skirt off with the other.

It’s too painful to struggle other than weakly kicking your legs, which he effortlessly ignores, maybe he doesn’t even feel it.

Mind over matter, Mind over matter, Mind over matter—

You repeat to yourself when you hear him spit in his hand and softly groan as he runs his hand up and down his cock. You don’t even know when he unbuckled his belt.

You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing; Mind over matter, mind over matter, mind over matt—

He head-buts your forehead, effectively pulling you out of your attempted mental respite. Bucky is scary; he looks down at you with wild eyes, and you hadn’t noticed blood dripping from his temple. You briefly wonder how much blood you’re covered in when he interrupts your thoughts; “Stay with me, bitch.”

“Please stop,” you finally find words rather than shrieks, your voice hoarse and words slurred, like you’ve never spoken before.

He just smiles—smiles—and then thrusts into you, stretching you open, not giving you any time to adjust to his massive length before pounding into you, beyond rough, beyond violent, he’s a fucking mad man, he’s feral. You attempt to grab onto his shoulders and pry him off but your own shoulder hinders you. You weakly punch at him with your right hand, but he doesn’t feel it, and at this point, you’re just exhausted. Throat hoarse, head aching, shoulder burning, foot in pain, and your ribs on fire.

He lets go of your throat and feels around on the bed for his jacket, pulling something out of the inner pockets.

Before you can even process it, he places his other hand over your mouth and presses something cold and metal to your knee. He fires the gun, the bullet flying from the front of your kneecap, shattering the cartilage, and resting in your flesh. He presses down harder on your mouth so your scream is completely guttural.

“Try leave me now,” he pants as she shoots out your other kneecap.

He presses the gun to the right side of your rib cage, digging into the bruises, “Next time you leave me will be in a fucking body bag.”

Ribs (II)

✪

#dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky smut #dark!bucky barnes x you #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x y/n #dark!bucky x y/n #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky #dark bucky barnes x you #dark bucky x you #dark bucky smut

1K notes · View notes

darkdemeter · 1 month ago

Text

BOW BETWEEN MY LEGS

⚤ Vampire King!Bucky Barnes x Vampire (Queen)!Female Reader 18+ themes and smut minors dni, consumption of blood, depictions and mention of gore, violence and death, unprotected vaginal sex, female oral receiving, dom x sub (light switch) dynamic, this fic contains some sexism/misogynist themes, usage of the name "pet", I think that's it. ✎ 5.4k What lies between a woman's legs is as powerful as you can grasp the idea that you can use it to your benefit. Like any man, no male vampire can resist such a sweet and enticing prize. In your stirred want for power that you see is rightfully yours, can you turn the throne in your favour and force the dark majesty who turned you to his knees?

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

The first kill is always the messiest.

It’s a floating rumour among the commoners and courts that you’ve murdered ten king-husband’s on the night of your wedding. This is the eleventh. Each one with a throat torn and ripped open, guts assembled as a strangling corset around the waist and his heart missing… supposedly eaten. The maids would lay awake all night, pale and sickly as they listened to the darkened hymn of your giggles in the chamber above, followed by the drawled, pleasured moans of a consort receiving her master’s reward upon the very bloodstained sheets of her impure marital bed. Compliant to his schemes, wedded to his sensuous appetite and solely ordained to share his bed.

But now you hunger for the power he has taken for himself. Every kingdom he has come to rule over was because of you. You seduced your way through the courts and harems of kings, enslaved yourself to their foolish and mortal desires - pathetic wants of the flesh that left you unsated - and then presented yourself at the altar many a time to pledge your undying love.

You have a treasure trove of gold and gems, accessories presented in proposal coffers and made in falsely forged promises of eternity. The only eternity was this one, with your master. The only one that kept you for himself, who adored and praised every inch of your body with awarded pleasures. He, who scorned and scarred you in passionate agony whenever you disobeyed him.

This sudden whim of yours to act out disobedience is one he will tolerate no longer. A pet off its leash, a naughty and spiteful creature who’s collar he will reshackle a hundred times over to strangle some belonging sense into you. A correctional statement is what is needed. And you have forced his hand to command it so.

Limbs of misty silk crawl along the floor, free to flow from the tapering veil of your gown where your breasts lift in a form meant to flaunt your provocative nature. From the golden rim of your goblet, you savour the taste of the tainted wine your kind dine to drink.

A crimson smear paints a glistening spot on your lips and your tongue laps to suckle on the sustaining juices. The night is cool but it’s barely felt on your skin anymore. The moon, full and pale, casts a halo so bright that it bathes your form as you stand in the balcony’s doorway.

The fluttery garb of your gown falters down the slope of your shoulders, loosening at its silken belt to reveal your nakedness to the gust of wind. It is one pulled stronger to sweep over the ocean like a hurricane, through the coastal region where you had set your sight upon to conquer; to claim. But it seems not for long. Like everything you have, that you are, he wants.

The wind has a voice, low and hollow like a haunting whisper. He appears in the chambers in a whirling spire of blackened mist, his body taking presence as a physical manifestation before your very stance. He looms as a tall silhouette that drowns out the moonlight, showering you beneath his powerful aura. You recall a time, before this stroke of independence, when you would sink to your very knees before him, eager to sate his carnal desires in the bloodied parlor of your slain king and promised love. To be commended for your work in succeeding his reign further over the kingdoms. To have the fanged venom of his undead disease riddle and writhe within your already alive corpse, to relive the sublime surrender in the midst of your orgasmic pleasure; one he ruthlessly denied you until you proved your loyalty to him. His darling pet, so sweet and so obedient to him. So pathetically wanting of all he would give you.

Your lips pull to form a thin smirk of revile, his deadly glare condemning your lack of sincerity towards him. Within the intense luminance of his blue, ocean eyes, he undresses you with his gaze.

Further adding to your insult, you act as though to bow before him, only to turn away as your shoulder addresses him coldly. “So, you’ve finally come to applaud my efforts, my liege?”

His body stiffens, shoulders molded harshly into a damning intensity. “Is that how you dare speak to me?”

His head shifts on a sharpened axis to look at you, to follow your leisurely movements. Your bare feet pad along with a skinned, muffled pound as if weightless to this world. The thin body of your goblet stays between the bed of your fingers, tilting back and forth lazily. You tire of his growled threats. At least, you thought you did. You always do enjoy the roughened, dark demeanor of his commanding tone.

With a sensual, teasing hum, you retort back, “It is.”

Beneath the baritone drum of another growl, beastly and dangerous, you continue in your saunter. Your eyes linger on the drapings of the stained bed, a grotesque display of a night creature’s artwork. His blood is no virgin’s, but it would do. The allure of such a pure taste drove you insanely blissed. What you would do for some in your goblet instead.

As if to see the nature of your grim, inner turmoil, your prior master moves towards you with a silent ease. Unheard but he is sensed.

His body stands close now, gracing the curve of your shoulder. He has this way that makes you feel alive again, like that virtuous, naive bride. The way his hand felt against you that first night, serpentine and slithering up to knead at your untouched breasts, squeezing them in his clawed grasp only to then wind around the column of your neck.

“Turn to me,” he beckons you with a voice soothing and deep. Indeed, his hand is still as intoxicating. Your eyes fill with a heaviness and you turn to face him. He tips your chin to his desired angle and he leans his lips down to ghost over yours.

“Open…”

Much like your first feeding, such a surreal and visceral hunger you’d felt in that time, long ago, the moment your lips lock together his tongue forces through the pass of yours, driving them further open. You moan highly and tilt back on your heel only for his hands to catch you, dragging your hips to meet his that desperately roll, arching them to spread to his welcome again. Goblet of blood abandoned with a cluttering fall, your arms find purchase as they always have around his shoulders, your nails scratch a trail that marks your claim.

The lengthy tendril of his tongue shapeshifts with the disconnecting growth of his jaw, gums extending forward, allowing his mouth and gullet to expand and pour forth a pitcher of blood into your mingling kiss. You greedily lap with your tongue at the addictive flavour of virgin’s blood he graciously delivers to you. You almost falter into his hold completely, barely able to keep yourself upright and his arms circle around your waist, pulling you tight against him as he deepened the kiss.

You purr into the cavernous depth of his mouth and he groans, not yet letting you go when he feels you begin to pull away with the large form of his palm pressing to the back of your head. No, there is still more to give you. There is still more blood to offer you, to feed you with. You must be starving, his dear and lost little pet. Most likely alone in the company of your bed, yearning for him.

His hips continue to grind against your core, eliciting that dark excitement he strives to rekindle within you, lustful in his advancement to retake you.

He withdraws from the kiss, his tongue slowly licking over the sated roof of your mouth and over the purse of your top lip.

“Be a good pet now and come back to me,” he purrs with a deepened rumble, smirking.

You tut at him with a scolding glare as you immediately swat at his wandering hands that grope you and he releases you with a hiss. His intention to seduce you with the potent feed was close to breaking you, you may admit — invading your mind like a perving perfume — but he would have to do better than that to lure you back into his dark embrace. He would have to offer something more than just blood and sex.

What you want is what was rightfully owed to you.

You’ve wandered from his reach and your spine rings with that delectable sense that his blackened soul reaches out to drag you back into his grasp. To feel the deepening desire of his want for you. To know that he lusts for you after all this time.

It’s empowering.

And it is power you will use to your advantage.

“Pet.” He warns you with a low tone of voice like a wrathful hum of thunder. You mock him back with a slight tilt of your chin, “My King.” You bare a crimson-stained smile of teeth and elongated fangs as you move your fingers sensuously slow over your lips to wipe the gathered dabbing of blood away.

Your voice is a sunken purr, a provoking line delivered with a silken and soft cadence that hints at your powerful sensuality, given the way you see the azure bloom in his eyes brighten.

The way he obviously stirs in the deep recess where his soul should be, where a man’s blood should run hot and heart beats fast. When your eyes only drift further down do you catch the heavy weight of his cock straining against his garments. Vampires may no longer be that of the living, but there are phantom semblances their bodies still cling to. An attachment of one’s life before.

And the imposing stature of his cock standing erect, the one and very same you’ve trained yourself earnestly for millennia to take every inch of, is one of those semblances he’s clung onto all this time.

He sneers with a beveled glare, “Cease this becoming of your petty nature and surrender yourself to me. I created you. You serve me.”

“That was when you took advantage of a silly, girl commoner who hadn’t an ounce of status in her life before.” Your objection is sharp to cut in. You come to stand before him, your hand moving to curl at the aroused pitch between his legs, smirking when he groans. “Since then I’ve acquired the taste of power… and I want more.”

He shakes his head with a bared snarl. “You wouldn’t know what to do with such power if you had it.” His hand snatches hold of your wrist and pulls you to press against him, earning a hitched gasp from you. “You're still just a silly woman whose place is better served beneath me.”

“Is that what you want to believe now that you see me retake everything from you?”

His eyes diverge from their scornful path, flickering down to gaze at the sinful way your lips move, allured by the empty promise of meeting them with his own in another heated kiss. And then you’re gone. Like a flame snuffed out by a sweeping draft, each withdrawing step you take away from him, your hips sway with a delightful bounce.

When he turns to face you, you’re suddenly taking action to seat yourself on the luxurious lounge of his deceased majesty’s chaise.

“You think I’m threatened by you?”

Your posture leans back, the draw of your silken dressing gown is draped loosely, falling down your shoulders and yielding quite easily to show your body. “I know you are.”

His words come out as a thick rasp. “Why are you doing this?”

“You mean other than to cause you pain? Anguish?” Your head tosses back with a cruel, viscous laugh that bounces off the chamber’s stone walls. “I never meant to be cruel, but you left me no choice, my love. I do it because I want to see the turmoil in your eyes as you watch everything I have given you slip away; I want to see in your eyes the realisation that without me… you would have nothing.”

“A woman in power is dangerous,” he drawls, hand running over the stubble of his jaw slowly.

Again, you cut in objectively. Your shoulders rise and drop with a huff, rumpling the folded brim of your robe to flatly dip lower over your breasts. “A woman in power is something you desire but not dare admit lest your own power be challenged. It’s why you’ve not taken me as your queen.”

“Ah,” he huffs in curt reply. The sound is dryly cynical, abhording the admittance in your statement. It’s his turn to favour feigned ignorance behind such a haughty announced noise, to hide the truth you already know too well.

“As if I’d any intention of elevating your station within my court. Surely none would then suspect the favouritism I harbour for you already, what with the reserving of my bed for you alone… the personal feedings…”

He dares to make a mocking spectacle of his generosity.

Beneath the snide of a coiled hiss, you say coldly, “It is a king’s duty to uphold the well being of his subjects and his realm. A good king deals with… the reservation of his bed and his personal feedings with a humble nod and smile. A bad king… tsk tsk,” you shake your head with the piercing click of your tongue. “That is certainly how a revolt occurs within the court.”

It wasn’t your fault that you craved more monogamous partnership from your king. Had you not worked yourself, bent yourself over and backwards to give him all you had? Every night you’d moan through your screams as he stretched you open, rawly taking you on the spear of his length until you cried a veiny river of tears. Bliss was it not as painful?

To his every wish, you fulfilled it. Every dynasty he sought to rule over you set yourself upon it. The ladies you slaughtered, the ragged and alluring woman you portrayed yourself to be to ensnare the honour of mortal kings or the seductive muse within his lordship’s harem. The sting of tears on your wedding day shed not in your joy to spend your days beside your sire, but because furthermore, you realise you remain a puppet on her strings; at the tethered whim of a master.

He scoffs at the notion that anyone in his court would dare rise up against him. More so he leers at you with this tainted ire, a darkened aura that compels you to obey his command. “You act as though I have not granted your endless desires. What could I possibly have denied you so that turned you against me?”

“Besides the still indebted orgasms?”

At that, he visibly stiffens at the burly muscle of his shoulders. The hardness causes his paled complexion to ripple, writhing with a course of venomous sinew and veins that runs through him.

King John by no means would have meant you good but at least you would have had power. Something every commonor vied for. The lidded underbelly of your eyes raise to squint narrowly at your dark liege. Your body contorts to sit upright, leaning forward in a way that is rigged. Fragmented drapes of hair fall forward with a framed depiction over your brow. “All my life I have been at the whim of someone else. It’s my turn now.”

“And if I refuse to grant you what you want, pet?”

“Don’t you dare deny me!” The whites of your eyes become drowned with scarlet as a flare of gold takes over your irises. Your voice seethes with a venomous hiss. “I was meant as your consort! I am owed this, Buchanan. There is a debt to be paid.”

He tuts you with a coy raise of his brow and smirk on his lips. He has you riled, just as he wants you. He walks to you with a leisured step each announcing his powerful authority. His clawed thumb and forefinger take hold of your chin to tilt it up, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“I should have known you’d take to power once you had a taste. You wouldn’t remain that humble, silent woman in my court.”

Your throat rolls with a thick swallow, eyes pouncing with that scarlet aura. “I developed under your command, did I not? I thrived and did all you asked of me. So long as I’m given what is rightfully mine, I shall remain at your side.”

“You turned into a right bitch is what you developed into,” he snorts. When the wavering kink in his brow twitches, it hints that he sees no humour pass through you. Your hardened eyes are sternly upon him, the scarlet hue fading and the golden rings dim back into the coloured irises.

“What is to happen if I refuse, Y/N?”

Reforming the delicate etiquette of your hair, fashioning it orderly as you rise from your seat, the robe dismantles its remaining hold around you. Your breasts allure him with a dangerous game as he stares fondly, the blackened shade of his pupils blown wide in his stare. You fix with effort the twisting etch of a smirk onto your lips.

Quickly, you arch your head forward and lick a glistening streak up the bared scape of his chest, the muscles constrict tightly, alerted. Aroused.

“Then coming here for me was pointless.”

Who are you to tell him that anything he does is pointless? How dare you call into question his pride?

The assaulting bite between the clench of his teeth is revolting, a seething sentiment that you have sored him - wounded his ego by notching that sneaky, clever little blade you call wit into the unbeating deadness of his heart.

Your naked form drifts past him and towards the bed with an elegant saunter and hips that sway with a pronounced accent, the beautiful locks of your hair that mist and ghost your features as a veil bounce as you move. His eyes follow you as slow moving orbs that reverb with a shaken essence, watching you slope in your descent to sit at the bed’s end.

Around you, the world is taken by a facade as the air bends back and forth, the moonlight flittering through it like a sudden and exploding burst of starlight. No longer does he stand in the trespass of the murdered king but instead his own throne room, alone besides you and him.

You’re no longer seated on the filth of a stranger man’s bed but instead, astride his grand and looming throne. Even for him, he knows his breath would have hitched in his lungs at the sight before him. Never before has he seen anything more dominating. Sinfully divine.

Exotic.

Coy, you adjust yourself in a way to purposefully allure to the form of your breasts pushing together, crossing one leg over the other to hide the glisten of your cunt from him and the regal possession of power you exude.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never wondered what I’d look like, seated on your throne, you kneeling before me…”

Even the beginnings of your twisted mingle between lustful fantasy and vie for power, you visibly shift. “…Your lips tasting me — devouring me — as I moan and arch myself like… this?”

The incline of your spine forces your breasts to bounce a little that has Buchanan’s eyes taken completely by the blackness, barely able to find the shade of blue within them as he stalks towards you before he stops, hesitant.

“Or like this?” You gasp aloud, acting as if you can already feel him deep inside you, shifting yourself into a new position but still keeping your legs relatively closed, concealing just how needy you are for him.

The pleasurable doting of his tongue parting your soft, delicate lips and dancing through the velvet slick of your cunt until he strikes that spot inside of you that has you pleasantly writhing. The sweet, succulent bloom to suffuse you once more.

His lips part with a trembling swallow, sucking desperately to air he longer feels — no longer needs. What he does need is you.

“Dragă…” His chest falls with an empty excuse and his voice quivers, on the verge of his breaking point. His final resolve of control is crumbling and it’s yielding to you.

His eyes behold you with a level of admiration you have naught but seen since your awakening. A greatness of marvel flashing in the clearer shine of his bright blue eyes, gleefully serene and covered by a dark delight.

He commits the sight of you on his throne to memory, searing it to his mind before the facade can falter, disbanding his newly found obsession.

With one single step towards you, your lips tighten into a coy purse. You roll your hips to shift your leg off the other and lean back, promising him a glean if he but steps closer; if he submits to you.

He takes another step forward, followed by another and so on until he stands there, moving to lean over you like the darkness of the towers that loomed high above you so long ago. The dreamy capture of something so grand and powerful.

But he’s stopped suddenly. The gracious perch of your foot hinders him, keeping him like a dog on a leash. A low growl reverberates off his tongue, snide and recoiling. Your throat chokes around a single-noted chuckle as you then push him back with the offending bareness of your foot, smirking when you see realisation come upon his brow like an ill fitted crown. He slowly, and with no power to compel otherwise, he begins to fall to his knees.

With a tone curt with authority and spread of your legs to reveal your glistening core, you command, “Bow between my legs.”

A tart sound is a delicious poison on his tongue. You wish to devour it like the sweetness of blood.

He gives in just as his knees brace him.

“I’ll do anything for you, my temptress,” he sighs, lips grazing the skin of your inner thigh with a savouring curse, “that and more, just please—”

You snatch hold of his jaw. An action he has done to you many times before, a physical measure of ceasing control over you, but now the game has changed, and he is at your whim now.

He is at your control now. He is your puppet to work on the strings, plucking and pulling tighter and tighter until he can naught but never escape your web.

“You want this?” You ask him with a voice silken and ominously tender. He nods, his stubbled jaw tensing in your iron grasp.

“You want me?” Again, he nods, his throat agape with an audible hiss. “Yes.”

That isn’t good enough for you. His eyes swell with a darkened glaze, the gentle melded ring lining the rim of his waterline as he pants like a starved beast. Your hand drifts back to wrangle him at the locks of his dark hair, scolding him harshly when he tried to plant his head between your thighs. His fangs bare with a strained growl.

You snarl beneath the shadow of a glare, “Then give me what is mine.”

“My Queen…”

You let out a small, toying coo and release him. His head immediately bows and his tongue on your delicate pearl has your spine arched beautifully, a moan once buried so deep down brought to the surface. You ease yourself with a roll of your hips and his hands find purchase there, holding you to him as he feverishly devours your cunt. He groans, bloodthirsty, he moans, entranced and drunken off your taste. His lips fold around your, drinking you in and his tongue teases your clit in long strokes and teasing dabs with its poised tip.

Each languid motion makes your cold skin vibrate and the deadened core inside you churn with the pleasurable abyss. Your song of moans fills his ears with a beautiful orchestra, far more alluring than any creature he’s ever known.

He pulls you forward to force his tongue deep inside you, invading the sanctum of your lower lips that ooze with your slick. You cannot help but chuckle, the sound a low and beating echo. How hungry he is to forfeit half his claim, a divide in his power in order to appease you.

Whether he admits it now or later, he would have nothing without you.

His tongue penetrates you with a sharpened edge that feels as though he cuts you internally, pulling forth a pleasured whine from you and your lower back rises higher. He growls at the sound, so beautiful and harmonic, laced with sensual want. You gasp and mewl, mortal breath having no place in your lungs but the root of it still remains just as the flow to his cock does.

The glamourous vow of your lustful inhales and blissful exhales, all in whining tandem to succeed your euphoria; that is your treacherous semblance.

Your hands tug and rake at the scalp of his head, ringing tightly to him as your legs quiver against him, curling. Your moans grow louder, become sired lyrics that break into a shattering as his tongue strikes you inward like lightning touching ground. Your world becomes hollow for a moment and instead of the purity of white to cover your vision, you’re thrusted into a blur of murky black. Spirals of dripping red bleed into view, slowed entirely into a near status of stillness, the buzzing hum of something baritone fades just as quickly as it’s heard.

Unlike the winery of finer bloods, meant to be sipped and savoured, he displays a ravenous appetite for the spoils of your release. He groans between the tremble of your thighs that lock him there, tongue pulling and stroking in longer caresses against your hot, constricting walls.

Upon the retreat of his mouth against your hot, tempered core, you miss the connection of his lips on you. How you could have him between your thighs for milenia. But there is plenty of time for that, the thought brings a smirk to grace the twisted lines of your lips.

He kisses with a darker tender to your thighs, each one a defined print on your skin. His tongue occasionally sweeps over your clit, eliciting an excited drawl from you and a shudder of your hips that causes him to smirk himself.

His eyes gaze at you with a prowling nature. It is one that hunts you.

You bask in the way he stares at you, with admiration and aroused ire. You love it to a sickening degree that would put the most spiteful spirits to shame.

“Shall I grant you another, my Queen?” he asks, words mumbled between a humming crawl of a moan and his lips being fused to your cunt. With a confirming nod, you make an audible sound.

“Yes… you have plenty still to give me.”

“Then I will begin here.”

In sync with the movement of his lips taking hold around you, his long fingers work to push aside your glistening folds. His claws rip and shred, almost tugging something inside of you as if to beckon you. Your gasps of pleased alarm become worn and ragged, cut into shortened tufts for phantom breath. His tongue and thumb roll with a teasing circlet over your clit, going slow then faster, and then slower again.

He has you cumming again and choking on a moan before you realise it, before you can enjoy the climax of its build and you’re dragged back into the void of that pleasure. Each orgasm he pulls from you is a sin forgiven and there are many he atones for. But those are just from his mouth and fingers alone.

By the time he’s delivered unto you several releases, he stands and looks down at you. A stunning corpse that writhes, smoothed to the silken drapes of the delicate fabrics. Was there truly anything more sweeter than to see you undone by your lust?

He’s always found you endearing. When he’d find you dryly dragging and rolling your hips into the silky pillows of his bed, thrashing violently in need of him. How he’d come to your aid swiftly, smothering you in his dark embrace — his shadow — so comforting and powerful and he would pound with such aggression into you that you could barely contain your screams.

You too remember with a certain fondness, a noted sadness of those times. Even now, you reminisce as he turns you, priming you to the angle which he could sink himself to his large entirety. Propped up, his hands cover the globes of your arse, marvelling with a loosened chuckle.

“I’ve missed you, dragă,” he purrs with a touch of edge to his voice.

“You’d better,” you retort. Another chuckle rumbled within his chest, tickling your spine as he grinds his navel into the small of your back, smearing your juices along his girthy shaft.

His hips shove with a sturdy gate and he sighs aloud. Your body welcomes the intrusion that comes into you, splitting you apart so deliciously it borders on the stray of agony. A favourite addiction, a blended mix between the beauty of pain and the horror of something good.

His pace is set ruthlessly and he anchors his weight so that he has you, pounding into you viciously. The sound of your skin slapping together in a brutal meeting pulls a string of moans between the two of you to share, each one underlined by a whispered praise.

“So—nhhg… good.”

“A-ah, missed this—” His hips thrust harder against you as his hands grope at you with possessive need. His weight shoves you deep into the mattress, the boards of a mortal bed made of wood and luxury sheets creak and squeal and rumple with tiring energy.

But you are not yet done. Not by any means. For many days and nights you could go on like this, lost in the intoxication of each other’s touch, fingers crawling and tongues tasting all sorts of sours and sweets.

Your bodies locked in an intimate stronghold, devoted to defiling the other. It can happen. It has happened, the old fashioned term calling such devious occasions mating balls.

You moan with a stutter, calling his name as your fingers claw and rip the sheets apart. His fangs scratch the nape of your neck, stirring within you those feelings you tried to keep down. The resurface of a pleading pet who understood her place beneath him.

You are his pet. You are his queen. A unique combination, a passive yet resistive opposite to his dance.

He pushes a hand firmly to the crest of your belly, feeling the bulge that flexes there, slinking in and out with rapid succession. His lips turn into a deformed and fanged grin.

“You enjoying my cock? Hm? You missed me, didn’t you?”

You nod with a curt hiss, arching until your hips meet his next thrust. “Yes…”

“We’re good for one another.”

“Y-yes…”

“I’m going to give you another.”

“Yes!”

He knows that tone. That impatient drawl that teeters on the verge of a scream he hears in his dreams with a smile. On his cock, your walls tighten around him like a vice, claiming him to remain buried deep inside you as you revel in his essence. His lips lay a cascade of worshipping kisses to your skin, chilling you as you near the void’s embrace; ready to become one with it — with him again.

“Will you be my Queen and consort?”

“Yes!” You choke out a sob just as your walls grip around him and are flooded by the final orgasm that is owed to you, his cock faring no better before he spills his seed inside of you, swelling you with his claim. A claim that only a king has over his queen. Your body is pulled flush to his, where vampyric skins meet, laying against each other like two tombstones bound in eternal, undying unity. Much like how you will be seated on his throne, he seats you atop his cock, his arms caging you in the confinement you once discovered imprisoned you.

Now he makes you feel whole again. He treasures you with praises, vowing between each blooded kiss and forceful thrust of his hips, that you are now his equal.

Indeed, you have made your king bow between your legs. Right where he belongs.

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, Decided to try out a bit of a new formatting.

#female reader #bucky barnes x reader #vampire au #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #james buchanan barnes #bucky x female reader

121 notes · View notes

nicestgirlonline · 1 year ago

Text

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.”

#horrormoviehoeathon #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #scream au #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #yandere bucky barnes #let me hear you scream #halloween fics #witchywithwhiskey #one shot #marvel fanfiction #buck barnes fanfic #ghostface bucky barnes #banner by cafekitsune

764 notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year ago

Text

can't fight the moonlight

kinktober, day twenty-nine

a/n: this one was a fantasy that was so fuzzy and took a surprisingly long time to figure out, but the hazy dream of it kept me going till i solved the puzzle

summary: it didn’t matter what you did or how hard you tried, you had no way of overpowering the beast the moonlight turned him into.

warnings: werewolf!bucky barnes x reader, smut, bucky's wolf form is very humanoid looking (think more teen wolf, less twilight), dubcon/noncon, predator/prey, established relationship, monsterfucking, little to no foreplay, dirty talk, squirting, overstimulation, cock drunk, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, forced breeding, belly bulge, size kink, size difference

word count: 2345

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“…and you’ve got some water in case you get thirsty and-, oh! Do you have something to eat? A snack or something?” you blabbered tensely as you helped lock the heavy chains that your partner snaked securely around his own limbs, bolting him to the cold basement for the night, “because I could go make you-”

Letting the iron in his grasp suddenly fall to the floor in a loud clang, like a volcano he exploded, “no!” heatedly throwing his hands up as he fumed, “I don’t need a fucking snack, would you just-…” catching your wide eyes, his sudden anger thawed a bit as he finally heard his own words, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you clutched your hands close to your chest, the keys tight in them dug into your palms.

Head lightly tilting to the side, Bucky let out a sigh, “you’re just trying to help and I’m-”

“It’s okay, I know,” you reassured him, “it’s the moon, I get it, don’t worry, darling,” you averted your gaze, staring down at the cold concrete floor, “I’m sorry about freaking out, like I do every month, but I just wanna do something that can make this better for you, even a little bit, anything, even though I know that there isn’t anything that can, I still can’t stop trying because I hate this,” you heard your voice grow thick and tears begin to blur up your vision, “I really really hate this.”

“Y/n…” you felt his fingers gently graze your cheek, bringing your glossy gaze back up to his, “you are helping, more than you even know. Before I met you, before you moved in and started being here every full moon, I was always terrified of getting out, terrified that I couldn’t detain myself enough and someone would end up getting hurt or worse… but I’m not scared of that anymore. It hasn’t happened once since you’ve been here to bolt the chains I can’t get to on my own and lock the doors from the other side. Plus knowing that you’ll be here when the sun eventually comes up, I hold onto that, no matter how painful it gets or how much I disappear, that fact doesn’t, it stays with me, keeps me somewhat sane throughout the night.”

Letting out a shaky breath, you blinked away the mist in your eyes, trying to be brave as you uttered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he exhaled, gazing at you as you leaned in to seal the final padlock with a click. Getting up to your feet, you stepped towards the door, but your fingers froze on the knob as Bucky’s voice filled the cellar once more, “try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in a bit.”

Glancing over your shoulder at his shackled frame, sitting against the wall, skin already glistening from the pending trauma, you promised, “okay,” even though you knew this night wouldn’t be any different from the rest.

You could never sleep when the moon was full, never even relax enough to rest for a bit. Even though the layers of resources that encased the basement silenced Bucky’s screams of agony from the rest of the neighbourhood as well as your own ears, just the knowledge that only one floor below where you were trying to slumber, there your beloved laid in pain as every single bone in his body had to break before he could turn into a monster of the moon, that awareness kept you up better than any caffeine could.

Locking the solid steel door behind you, so you repeated with the one atop the wonky staircase, the rest of the house suddenly feeling so cold without his presence.

Still clad in garb you’d worn to work, you couldn’t bother to change out of it even if the dress and stockings weren’t the most comfortable clothing to do an all-nighter in, you just seized the grey cabled cardigan draped over the armchair by the fireplace and shrugged it over top.

Holding the kettle under the tap to fill it up, your weary vision locked on the ominous sphere looming in the night sky clearly visible from the kitchen window. Losing yourself to the sight, too absorbed by the troubling thoughts it brought on, you only snapped out of the trance when cold water began to flow over the side of the pot and soak your hand that clutched it.

“Oh, shit…” you mumbled as you hurried to turn off the water and pour some of the abundances back out into the sink.

Placing it down on the stovetop, you listened to the gentle clicking that emanated before the eventual flame as you turned the knob. The slight heat radiating beneath the kettle persuaded you to shift into the living room and with the flick of a match, light the fireplace, granting yourself more of that soothing heat to help battle the night.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the water came to a boil, kettle whistling like a demon to relay the message.

With a mug of tea in your hand, you curled up in the chair by the fire and picked up the half-read book discarded on the small side table.

This was the routine, even though you never could concentrate, you still at least tried to distract yourself.

A sudden bang ripped your eyes away from the page they had glazed over four times by now. Your vision instantly trained on the door to the cellar, clearly visible from where you were sitting.

As the door then began to rattle rhythmically from an unyielding force, your body jumped at every thud, the novel in your grasp tumbling to the floor.

Frozen in your seat, you watched as the door splintered, swiftly losing the short-lived battle and flying off its hinges.

With heavy footsteps, Bucky’s visage stepped into the light, except it wasn’t the Bucky you knew, not one you’d seen with your own eyes, but only ever heard tales about.

At first, you thought he still looked like himself, but as the firelight flickered across his form, you finally noticed just how altered he was. His natural body hair had quadrupled, fuzzing up his visage and the rippling muscles that hid beneath it, those as well seeming to have swelled up making his frame nearly unrecognisable. Though he always towered above your comparative stature, his height now was something else entirely. The sight of his eyes chilled you to the very bone, the calming blue was completely drowned out by a sea of black, with only a tiny golden flicker in the middle differentiating the obsidian. Nails long and tough like claws, broken chains still clung to his form as you watched his lip curl, a low growl rumbling throughout the room and letting you catch sight of his sharp teeth.

Scarcely breathing at all, your hopes of him not noticing your presence began to fade as he predatorily sniffed the air.

Your eyes suddenly grew wide as you spotted a part of him begin to swell up and come into the light. Throbbing, his unusually grand length intimidatingly curved upwards, it too haven grown just as the rest of his body had.

Finally breaking through your terror, you sprung up and tried your best to run, though you didn’t get far as, within mere seconds, the natural hunter caught up to you and tackled you down to the ground, shredding the cosy knit you wore in the process.

Cheek smooshed against the floorboards, you trembled beneath his beefy form as his flaming chest pressed against your back, knowing full well that if you made one wrong move, aggravated him in any sort of way, he could snap you like a twig. It didn’t matter what you did or how hard you tried, you had no way of overpowering the beast the moonlight turned him into.

As your eyes flickered to the front door, it dawned on you that if he could break not only the chain that bound him, but also the strong basement doors, then the last barrier that kept him from the outside world wouldn’t even make him break a sweat.

Growling directly in your ear, you felt his agitated breath fan across your face as his nose buried itself in your hair. Starved sniffs slowly travelling south, your heart nearly burst out of your chest as you felt him rip your clothes to shreds. Dress tattered and hanging off of you, your underwear swiftly disintegrated completely as only your stocking truly survived the attack, still clinging around your quivering thighs with only the smallest of tears to tell the tale.

Grinding desperately against the curve of your form, his monstrous girth nudged against you, catching you off guard as even in this petrifying form, you still felt your body respond to him.

“Bucky, Buck!” your voice squeaked in an attempt at breaking through to him, “it’s me! It’s me! It’s Y/n!” wildly flipping you over and roughly aligning himself with your core, you desperately tried to catch his dark eyes and try again, “Bucky, please!”

Joints locking up at the sound of your shrill cry, a flicker of reignition washed over his haunting glare, softening it slightly as you finally heard him speak, “…Y/n?” his voice was much lower than you’d ever heard it, though very much still his, “oh, fuck… I-…” a shaky breath escaped his lungs as he hovered above you, the tip of his cock nuzzled between your folds, “…I don’t think I can stop…” he grunted, his hand right beside your head digging into the floorboards and leaving splintery scratches in its wake, “I can’t fight it, I’m trying, but-”

“It's okay,” you carefully reached up and touched his cheek. You couldn’t let him run out that door and take some innocent lives. At this moment, all of his focus was aimed at you, so if it could just stay there and not stray till the sun came up, if you could distract him for only a little while longer, then the night might end without any unnecessary bloodshed. So, therefore, you gave in, “I love you, I love you so much,” your glistening eyes blinked up at him as you tried to speak with confidence, “you’re not gonna hurt me, I know you’re not. It’s okay, it’s-”

Plunging into you, an almost animalistic noise accompanied his harsh action as the beast he’d become seized exactly what it desired. All of the air got pushed out of your lungs as he buried himself in you, stretching you out beyond belief and forcing a shuttering cry to tumble from your lips.

Never mind the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom, a thing the two of you had always been careful about, that detail fought to penetrate through the fog he sent you into. Stunned that you could even take it all, the sensation of him made your mind melt. You felt all of it. Every vein and every ridge, every jaw-dropping detail that decorated his monstrous cock drove you to madness.

“Fuck!” he snarled, bucking his hips so hard against yours that your whole body shook, the sloppy clapping of skin against skin filled the home as he greedily rammed against the deepest spot inside of you, “do you have any idea how long I’ve tried to break out of those chains?” leaning down closer, he inhaled deeply, “I can fucking smell you…” you shivered as his nose ghosted against yours, “all the way down in the basement, no matter where you are, I can always smell you… calling for me, begging me to come and rip you apart…”

Leaning back again, his bruising grip found your hips and plucked them up, holding them tight as the rest of you still laid melted against the floor like a puddle before him. Like a ragdoll in his grasp, he moved your body, fucking your drooling pussy like the ravenous beast he was.

As your eyes fluttered down to where he virtually split you in two, the dull bulge that rhythmically appeared in your lower stomach at each and every one of his ruthless thrusts caught your attention, the vision making you dizzy.

You had never felt like this, never felt anything so intense in your whole life. He was just so menacing, so magnetic, so massive. Your own enthusiasm caught you by surprise, especially as your cunt soon began to cry out around him, showing your living room floor in your want as you squirted all over his rock-hard girth.

Usually, Bucky would slow down and give you a moment whenever you had an orgasm, but in this moment, tonight, it wasn’t your Bucky that was pounding the living hell out of you, it was someone else, something else, and that creature only seemed to get even more riled up by your lewd display as he picked up his speed till his gravelly groans grew louder and his efforts began to go sloppy.

“Please, Buck,” you mumbly pleaded, picking up on his telltale signs through your cock drunk haze, “not inside.”

But he didn’t listen to you as he just kept on fucking you till he pumped your pussy full of his cum.

Panting and puffing above you, he still kept up shallow thrusts, rocking you against him and pushing his load out of your overly sensitive cunt with every piercing plunge.

“Buck?” you heard yourself uttered as you found his dark gaze, though what stared back at you was not your love anymore as there was no recognition to be found in his eyes at all.

Slamming you back against him hard enough for it to sting, you shuttered at the possibility that he was nowhere near done satisfying his carnal desire.

But just before he could ruin you completely, a sliver of light began to dawn on the far side wall. Glancing out the window, you barely managed to spot the morning crest over the treetops in the distance.

#lea’s writing #kinktober 2023 #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #werewolf!bucky barnes #dark!bucky smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #werewolf!bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #winter soldier smut #bucky barnes au #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x you

2K notes · View notes

bucksangel · 1 year ago

Text

temptation

pairing: softdark!stalker!bucky x reader

word count: 12.5k (I PROMISE IT’S WORTH IT)

summary: “I found some land in upstate New York, it’s a quiet, woodsy area, with no neighbors for at least three miles. And when I saw her I knew I needed to go through with it. So I bought the property and I’ve been building the cabin myself, I just need a few more weeks to finish it and then I can bring her there with me.” or - bucky’s trying to get his life back in order, but everything changes when he sees you. He’s going to make you his, whether you like it or not.

warnings: 18+ only, kidnapping, stalking, bucky is weird and obsessed and full on delulu but not violent, implied abuse/threatening abuse (from steve), stockholm syndrome, solo masturbation, panty sniffing, mental manipulation, bucky’s trauma is brought up, steve makes an appearance and is weird and Not Nice At All, brief mention of arson for like one sentence, don’t read if any of these warnings trigger you

masterlist | tip jar | ao3 | part 2

a/n: this is for @jessybarnes writing challenge! my prompts were angst #6 "don't you dare leave me!" and fluff #6 "kiss me again"

also thank you to my lovely @vase-of-lilies for helping me plan this out and @fandoms-writings for helping beta 🤍🤍 i might do a part 2 with smut if anyone is interested!

Tucked away in a reading nook at the back of the library, your legs are curled into your body with a blanket thrown over your lap. You’re faced toward the window, occasionally looking up from your book to stare out into the empty street, watching as the rain pours and splatters against the window. By now you’re three-quarters of the way through your book, having spent the last several hours reading quietly, the lack of other people around also helps keep the serenity of the moment.

You come to the library every Thursday and Saturday and have been for years. It’s one of your safe spaces, one of the only places in the city where you can relax from the usual everyday chaos. It’s your home away from home, the books surrounding you acting as your friends that keep you company. Surely if you had enough room in your tiny studio apartment, you’d have your own library.

Although lately something’s been… off. You can’t escape the feeling of being watched, followed. There’s no proof, only an instinct, one that makes you scan your surroundings every so often no matter where you are and what you’re doing. It’s been setting you on edge for weeks, doing double-takes when walking along the sidewalk thinking you saw someone staring, constantly checking your rear-view mirror because you swore this car has been trailing behind you for several miles.

And the worst part is that no one believes you. You’d tried telling your friends, all of whom said you were being paranoid, you’re just exaggerating, projecting. You asked the security guards at your apartment building if they’d seen anything weird and they rolled their eyes at you. It makes you frustrated, especially since it’s been getting worse, and going to the police isn’t an option. If your friends don’t believe you, why would they?

It’s happening now, you realize, your head snapping up and your gaze leaning to the right. But nothing is there, just like always. Nothing is ever there, only the voice in the back of your head yelling at you that you’re not safe. It takes a few moments for you to shake the feeling away, but it only lasts for maybe ten minutes. Eventually, you decide to give up on reading for the day, packing up your things as quickly and quietly as possible to get out without being seen.

It’s only when you’re at the front door that you realize you didn’t bring your umbrella. You’d gotten to the library before it started raining and had foregone watching the news this morning so you didn’t even know it would rain. But you still have that lingering anxiety, so it only takes a few seconds before you decide to brave the rain and make the two-minute walk to your apartment.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, you quickly dash out the front door, speed walking to your place with your head hung low. And, luckily, it doesn’t take long to get to the building, being quick to rush up the stairs and unlock your door to get out of your soaking wet clothes.

____________

It’s wrong, so wrong. Logically, Bucky knows that, knows that his actions aren’t normal. Some people would call him toxic, a creep, a stalker. And they’re all right, Bucky is very cognizant of his actions and thoughts.

He knows, he just doesn’t care.

You see, Bucky Barnes has been through a lot, has endured pure and utter pain for decades, has lost everything and everyone that matters to him. Bucky has never had anything to call his own, has never had anything that’s solely for him and no one else. Even now as he’s in recovery, as he’s finally gotten full control of his mind, as he’s seeing a therapist once a week, none of it fills that void.

Sure, he has a decent-sized apartment, though he has to admit that it’s pretty bare. He has one chair in his living room, one set of cutlery, a few select shirts, and the other bare necessities to live. He doesn’t really know how to decorate, doesn’t feel the need to considering it’s just him.

Bucky’s learning, though. He has a corkboard on his bedroom wall with pictures of different room layouts and complimenting wall colors pinned to it. He got a new computer, three to be exact, standing on a desk underneath said board. He even has a forty-inch tv mounted on the wall across from his bed.

Bucky’s at his desk now, sitting in his chair as he transfers all the photos he took today from his camera to the computer. It took him quite a while to figure out how to do that, and it took even longer to learn how to use photoshop. But, like the decorating, he’s learning.

But as soon as the last picture is uploaded, his phone rings with a special tone, one that alerts him whenever your front door is opened.

Bucky sits up straight, grabs his phone, and races to the bed where he quickly grabs his remote from his bedside table. Settling in, he rests his back against the headboard and lets his legs splay out in front of him. He then turns on his TV, switching from regular cable to the screen that shows all angles of the cameras he placed in your apartment.

It’s almost as though he’s a dog hearing Ivan Pavlov ringing the bell with how his cock involuntarily twitches to life upon seeing you, clothes soaked and acting as a second skin. You’re wearing a dark blue shirt though, so he can’t see through it enough to get a glimpse of what’s underneath, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t seen it before.

He’s seen all of you.

And right now he sees you rushing into your room and to your dresser as you peel off your shirt, dropping it to the ground. You open your drawers and pull out a new set of clothes; skimpy shorts and his favorite tank top that leaves little to the imagination.

Bucky’s cock twitches again when you start pulling down your jeans, pre-cum already starting to form as you wiggle your hips in an attempt to peel the soaked denim off of your legs. When you finally manage to take them off, you throw those on the ground as well, and Bucky would be upset with how messy you are if there weren’t more important matters at hand.

Quickly, he switches to the camera in your bathroom, all forty inches of his TV showing him an extremely clear view of you taking off your bra and panties, panties that he’s aching to steal, to smell, to really soak in your essence. But, since he doesn’t have them, he uses his next best option: the panties in the top drawer of his bedside table that he snatched from your hamper a few days ago.

Bucky lifts them to his nose and, thankfully, they still smell of you, they smell of heaven, and Bucky makes quick work of shoving his sweatpants down far enough to get his dick out, already fully hard at the sight of you stepping into the shower. Bucky then switches to the camera he placed in your shower head.

And there you are, naked and utterly beautiful, gorgeous, breathtaking, like the only thing Bucky wants to look at for the rest of eternity. He’s been awestruck by your beauty since he first met you. Well, met is a strong word, it’s more like he saw you sitting and reading in the window of the library you always go to as he was passing by. For all Bucky knows you hadn’t even seen him.

Still, he’d known you were the one for him from the first time his gaze landed on you.

Bucky can hear your relieved sigh over the spray of the water, his hand holding your panties wrap around his cock as you close your eyes and tilt your head back, giving him a very good view of the water cascading down your breasts. Bucky’s tongue peeks out and swipes along his bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth, letting out a low groan and pumping his cock faster. This specific pair is smooth satin, making it for an easy glide up and down, a twist of his wrist every so often.

It doesn’t take long for his stomach to start tightening, his breathing to become faster and his thighs to tense as he tries to hold back his orgasm. It never takes long when it comes to you. Before you, he thought he liked sex enough, it was as pleasurable as most people say it is. Now, though, he hasn’t even had you and he’s already addicted.

Bucky lets out a low groan, a soft “fuck” falling from his lips as you start running your soapy loofa across your chest and arms. More pre-cum builds and spills over the tip of his cock as he strokes it faster, squeezing at the base of it several times to try and ward off his impending orgasm. The cold metal of Bucky’s left-hand travels down his stomach, fingers creeping under his cock and taking hold of his balls. In unison, Bucky tugs at his cock as he rolls and squeezes his sac, his breaths coming out even faster when you move the loofa to your legs, running it on the insides of your thighs.

“Oh, my angel…” Bucky whines softly, eyes honing in on the way you rub your skin in small circles, every nerve in his being lighting on fire as he focuses on really feeling how soft your panties are around his dick. He wishes it were your pussy, and is imagining it is now as he gets closer and closer to coming. His mind floods with visions of you; laying on your back and naked in his bed ready to take him, or your face pressed into the pillows and ass high in the air with your fingers clenching the sheets. His favorite one, the one that can make him cum just by thinking about it; you, round and swollen with his baby - babies. Because Bucky isn’t going to stop at one, oh no. He’s going to give you baby after baby until your shared house never knows even a second of silence.

And as the image of your naked and pregnant body lying on his bed flashes through his mind, Bucky’s thighs tense, his teeth dig into his lower lip, and he continues stroking his cock at an inhuman speed as cum spurts out from the tip of his dick. And, dear god, he can’t help how much cum there is, always so much - just for you. His eyes roll to the back of his head, only taking his hand away when his dick starts getting a little too sensitive.

Bucky comes to a few moments later, and when his eyes wander back to the TV he sees you washing your hair, eyes closed, and head tipped back. As Bucky’s breathing evens out, his mind goes a little hazy, eyes unable to tear themselves away from you for the rest of your shower - and after, when you’re drying off and changing into clean clothes.

His mind doesn’t snap out of its trance until you turn your lights off and get into bed. When you do, he grabs the remote and switches the camera to the one he placed in the stuffed bear you keep on your bed, making sure to turn on the night vision mode.

Bucky then gets ready for bed, which merely consists of him stripping his clothes and washing his hands, then folding your underwear and placing them back in his dresser.

And when he falls asleep, he does so with the TV on, the way the camera is angled allows him to see you as his mind falls into slumber. He clutches a heated body pillow with your perfume sprayed on it and puts headphones that are connected to the audio sensor in the camera in the teddy bear in his ears. And it lets him imagine that you’re actually in bed with him, lets him pretend he’s holding you and can hear your soft snores in person.

He sleeps peacefully through the night.

____________

It’s another ordinary Saturday, the Brooklyn sky clear of clouds and showcasing the sun at full capacity. It’s unseasonably warm considering it’s well into fall, so you decide to wear a simple sweater and shorts to the market. Even though your outfit may be simple, your makeup is done perfectly and your hair pulled back from your face, and the perfume you sprayed is no doubt going to reel your date in.

Because you’re going on a date today. Johnathan was a friend of a coworker, you’d met him when he came into your cafê and started chatting mindlessly with Sara. You thought he was handsome, and apparently he found you attractive as well - because, according to Sara, he asked if you were single when you left the counter to go help a customer.

She’d given him your number that day and you’ve been talking with him every day ever since. Finally, after a week and a half of texting and calling, your schedules aligned perfectly so he could take you to the farmer��s market just a little bit outside of the city.

He offered to pick you up, but completely understood when you said you’d rather meet him there, the unspoken “just in case because I don’t know if you’re a murderer” hanging in the air. But, again, he hadn’t minded.

On your way to the date you began to develop a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach, once again feeling like you’re being watched. You look in your rearview mirror, but find nothing, of course you don’t. You never do.

But it’s when you actually get to the market that legitimate anxiety settles in. Getting out of your car, you look around to find Johnathan - but also to see if you can find anybody suspicious. You’re gazing to the left, eyes frantically roaming the crowd, and jump nearly five feet in the air when someone taps your arms.

You have to physically refrain from screaming, only to sigh in relief when you see it’s Johnathan, a huge smile on his face and a wicker basket in his hand.

“Sorry for startling you,” He laughs, causing you to laugh as well, desperately trying to shake off the feelings of being watched.

“N-No, it’s fine.” You smile back at him, then nod to the empty basket. “What’s that for?”

“Well,” He starts, his smile turning sheepish. “You said you needed more fruits and spices for your thanksgiving pies and I figured this market would be good to get them at.”

After a second of silence, Johnathan speaks again. “And don’t worry about buying them yourself, I’m here to treat you. Just pick what you want and it’s yours.”

You can’t help the wide smile that plasters itself across your face because, genuinely, you don’t even know if a single potential partner has been this kind, especially so early on into the first date.

So, with a small ‘thank you’, you take his outstretched hand and let him lead you toward the entrance.

And it’s probably the best first date you’ve ever had, and not just because Johnathan has insisted on buying everything, not even letting the thought of paying yourself cross your mind. It’s fun, walking up and down the stalls, and even going to the pumpkin patch at the back to pick miniature pumpkins to decorate your apartment with.

It should’ve been the most fun you’ve had in months, but it’s hard to fully focus and stay in the moment when the feeling of someone’s eyes on you grows higher and higher as the day turns into night and it’s time to leave.

Johnathan holds your hand the entire day, or wraps his arm around you every once in a while to keep you close when you’re walking through a crowd. He’s holding your hand as he walks you back to your car, and the entire time you can’t help but search the parking lot for any signs of danger, becoming more cognizant of your surroundings as the sky grows darker.

“Today was fun,” Johnathan says, pulling you away from your thoughts. You both stop next to your car, turning to face each other.

“It was,” You say, dropping your date’s hand so you can fiddle with your fingers nervously. “Could we, um…”

“Yeah?” He asks, prompting you to continue when you pause.

“Could we do this again?” That question brings out a bright smile on the man’s face, his eyes lighting up.

“Yeah, yeah I’d love to!” Then, he coughs, clearing his throat and cooling himself. “I-I mean, yeah. That’d be nice.” His response makes you giggle, and you nod along in agreement.

You both go silent, though it’s not an awkward one. But after a moment of quiet, Johnathan speaks up again.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes!” And you don’t have time to be embarrassed about how enthusiastic your response was because the man is immediately leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, one you deepen while your hands come up to grasp his biceps to steady yourself. It takes a good minute for you two to break apart, both of you giggling.

“I guess I should get home,” you say regretfully, and Johnathan also looks kind of sad when he nods.

“Text me when you get there?”

You nod, then whisper back, “you too,” before he kisses your cheek. With a final smile and nod of his head, heads to his car.

And Johnathan’s absence is quickly filled with anxiety, your head snapping to the right at hearing footsteps approaching you. But, just like every other time, there’s nothing except a family passing by. It takes no time at all for you to get into your car and speed out of the parking lot, not wanting to waste anymore time out in the dark.

And when you do get home and send your ‘got home safe <3’ text, you get ready for bed. All the while periodically checking to see if he texted back.

You’d gotten back to your apartment around nine, but by the time you’re turning in for the night around eleven he still hasn’t texted back. So, you resign yourself to waiting until tomorrow morning to see if he texts because he could have just got caught in traffic.

The next morning comes with still no text.

____________

It’s about a week later when Bucky wasn’t able to follow you around for the day, he ended up having to go to the tower for some work on his arm. But he’d checked the cameras before he left, watching as you changed into your outfit and left before he got ready to leave as well.

But Bucky gets back to his apartment around noon. And even though the only thing on his mind is getting to his room so he can get back to online shopping for things he needs for his cabin he notices something is wrong right away. There’s no noise, but the light in his kitchen is on when he’s positive he turned it off before he left. Plus, his hyper-sensitive ears pick up a heartbeat, and not his own.

Bucky is immediately on high alert, and he quickly and quietly grabs the knife he keeps tucked in his pants as he follows the heartbeat to his room. And when he opens the door, he lets out a soft curse and tucks the blade away.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Steve?” Bucky snaps at him, and he knows his harsh tone isn’t warranted, but Bucky hasn’t invited Steve to his apartment since he fell in love with you, and for good reason.

Steve turns to Bucky, though he stays standing by his corkboard, a concerned look on the blonde man’s face.

“Bucky…” Steve pauses, glancing at his friend and then back to the wall next to him. “What is all this?” He reaches forward tentatively, only stopping when Bucky damn near shouts at him.

“Don’t!” And Steve can tell Bucky already feels guilty for raising his voice, because he adds “please,” in a softer tone. So, Steve pulls his hand away, though his eyes continue to roam around the entire room, staring at what must be at least seventy pictures of you pinned to Bucky’s walls, nearly fully covering them.

“Steve, what are you doing here?” Bucky asks again, eyes cast downward as soon as his friend looks at him so he doesn’t have to see the no doubt concerned look on Steve’s face.

“You’ve been off, Buck. We’ve been best friends our whole lives, I know all of your tells. In the past four months we’ve hung out maybe five times, not including when we see each other at the tower every once in a while. You’re always canceling plans, making excuses for why you can’t go out, or why I can’t come over,” Steve pauses, his gaze traveling to the desk to look at a large framed and very poorly photoshopped picture of you and Bucky.

“Now I see why.”

Bucky sighs, then trudges forward to sit on the edge of his bed next to his bedside table. He looks over at another framed photo of you that he took from your Instagram - a close-up of your face, eyes scrunched close, and mouth split in a wide grin, and it’s clear that you’re laughing - happy. The sun in the background adds a beautiful solar flare effect, bringing out the absolute beauty you hold.

“Steve, you have to understand…” Bucky sighs again, looking up at his friend with desperate, pleading eyes. “You know better than anyone about what I’ve been through, all the pain I’ve suffered. I don’t have clear memories from… before. All I can remember is pain, and having no control over my own mind, let alone my life. I love you Stevie, I really do. But, even though you found me, even though I’m no longer him, I haven’t found true happiness. In anything. Marissa, my therapist, suggested I needed to go out and dabble in different hobbies until I could find something that would give me even a little bit of joy. I like hanging out with you and Natasha, sometimes Sam, but it just wasn’t enough.”

Bucky looks back over at the picture, delicately picking it up and focusing on your joyful expression - one he so desperately wants to be the cause of.

“But then I saw her. It was about four months ago; I’d actually been walking back from your place and saw her sitting in the window of the library a few blocks over. She’d been curled up with a book in her lap and was drinking out of a mug, not wearing anything fancy, but I remember thinking she was the most beautiful person I had ever and would ever meet. I remember stopping, being frozen in place as I just watched her read. I remember thinking about Marissa telling me to find something purely for me, something I could call my own, something that would make me happy.”

Steve hums, walking from the desk to stand a few feet in front of Bucky with his arms folded across his chest, something Bucky sees when he looks back up at his friend.

“She’s my happiness, Steve. I haven’t actually talked to her, but she’s the one for me, I just know it.”

Both men are quiet for a long, tense moment, with Steve mulling over Bucky’s words while the latter is worried beyond belief his friend will somehow keep him from pursuing you. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like that will happen.

“Buck…” Steve trails off, sighing. “I mean, you’re right, I can’t deny that you’ve been through hell, that you deserve happiness and love. But, don’t you think this is a little… creepy? Like, why can’t you just go talk to her?”

Bucky immediately shakes his head, his heartbeat picking up slightly at the mere thought of actually talking to you. He doesn’t think he’s ready to make a complete fool of himself by trying to talk to an angel like you.

“I-I can’t, Stevie. It’s not that simple. I can’t just… I can’t just approach the woman I’m in love with. I’d just be awkward and shy and I probably wouldn’t even be able to say more than a few words to her. No one wants someone who can’t even be out in public for more than a few hours at a time, let alone someone who can’t even talk.”

Steve makes a small, pained noise, his eyebrows furrowed. But when Bucky doesn’t continue, the blonde man moves forward and sits precariously on the edge of the bed next to his friend. Steve then slowly lifts his hand, palm up, to the picture Bucky is holding, glancing at him for permission to take the frame. When Bucky nods, Steve takes it. It’s quiet for a moment as Steve ponders, then hums softly.

“She’s pretty.”

And Bucky knows he doesn’t mean anything by it, doesn’t have any want or intention to take you from him, but he can’t help but get jealous. Though he tries to hide it by forcing a smile.

“She really is.” Another pause, a deep breath. “I have a… plan, though.”

Steve hums again, looking up from the picture and handing it back. “Which is?”

“You see, even before I met her I was looking to move out of the city, there’s too much noise, it’s too busy, just too much. I found some land in upstate New York, it’s a quiet, woodsy area, with no neighbors for at least three miles. And when I saw her I knew I needed to go through with it. So I bought the property and I’ve been building the cabin myself, I just need a few more weeks to finish it and then I can bring her there with me.”

With another longing gaze at the picture, he blinks rapidly to get rid of the moisture in his eyes, joy filling his entire body at the thought of you finally being his and his alone. “It’ll just be us,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Steve starts, chewing on his lip for a moment. “So, if you can’t even talk to her, how are you going to convince her to move into a house in the middle of the woods with you?”

“I’m not…” Bucky trails off nervously, his left leg now bouncing with anxiety.

“Buck, please don’t tell me you plan on kidna-”

Bucky cuts him off by standing up abruptly.

“It’s not kidnapping if she’s supposed to be with me anyway! She’s mine, Steve. Mine! She might not like it at first, but - but she will eventually. She’ll love me like I deserve, and we’ll be happy together.” It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than Steve, something Steve picks up on.

“Bucky, I don’t know about this.”

Bucky’s damn near close to shouting, a sudden undeserved anger coursing through his veins at his mind jumping to conclusions by assuming his friend is trying to stop him. But Bucky is determined, and he has no problem cutting off ties if anyone stands in the way of the life he craves.

“Please, Steve, you have to understand! She’s the only thing I’m certain of in life, I… I need her.”

“Okay,” Steve says after a few very tense minutes, nodding along to Bucky’s words. Because, truthfully, Steve would rather this be the problem than Bucky slipping back into a major depressive state. Bucky does deserve happiness and love and anything else his heart could ever desire. And if he wants you, then goddamnit Steve isn’t going to stand in the way.

“Okay?” Bucky asks nervously, fiddling with his fingers.

“Yeah, Buck. I don’t really… agree with all of this, but if this is what you think you need, then okay. You’re my best friend, I’d do anything for you. So if this is what you want then I’ll help in any way I can.”

A wide smile plasters itself across Bucky’s face, his eyes lighting up. If Steve is offering his help, who is Bucky to deny him?

“Thanks, Stevie.”

____________

One month later everything has seemingly gone downhill.

Things would go missing in your apartment one by one, something you actually hadn’t noticed until one day you were cleaning and found several articles of clothing gone. Chalking it up to getting them lost in transit to the several trips to the laundry room in the basement of the apartment complex, you try to shrug it off.

It doesn’t totally work.

Then, the feeling of being watched only got worse. You’ll be walking down the street to the café you work at and feel the instinct to walk faster, but it doesn’t stop there. Some days you have to restrain yourself from staring out of the window in a vain attempt to catch the stranger you’re absolutely positive is following you.

You’d also asked Sara if Johnathan was okay, to which she responded with a sympathetic smile as she told you he decided he wasn’t interested anymore and decided to go back to Pennsylvania to spend an indeterminate amount of time with his family.

To make it even worse, a few days ago you’d gone to meet with a therapist for the first time, hoping they could ease your anxieties. He, in fact, made them worse by accusing you of overreacting, of being another stereotypical woman freaking out over nothing. ‘It’s probably just your hormones acting up’ is what he said, utterly pissing you off, and it took everything in you to not scream at him for being, rather bluntly, sexist. You didn’t want to give him a reason to prove his point.

Well, it got even worse today. You’d woken up around ten in the morning, giving you about an hour and a half to slowly get ready and get to work. Except, it looks like you don’t have a job for the time being, because when you checked your phone right after you woke up you saw a text from your boss.

There was a fire last night, the building burnt to the ground. Everyone is safe, but we can’t work until it’s fixed.

Well, fuck. It’s nearly impossible to find another job right now, let alone quickly, so tears immediately spring to your eyes. What the fuck are you going to do?

Cry, first of all. You can’t help it, so much has happened these last five or so months and all of your negative emotions come pouring out as you lay back in bed and turn so you’re in a fetal position clutching a pillow. And your crying doesn’t cease for an indeterminate amount of time.

As your crying tapers off to short whimpers you hear your bedroom door creak. You want to disregard the sound, figuring - hoping - it was because the air conditioning just kicked on. Though you know you’re foolish for thinking so, something deep in your bones knowing that something is seriously wrong.

With your heartbeat quickly picking up and your anxiety spiking it’s nearly impossible to hear the door creak again, but you hear it nonetheless. But by the time you decide to turn around and see what it is, something - someone - falls on top of you, a piece of cloth soaked in some kind of chemical is pressed against your mouth and nose, and you’re forced over to lay on your front as the stranger straddles your hips to keep you pinned to the bed.

It doesn’t take long for your world to fade to black.

____________

A door slamming shut wakes you from your slumber, your eyes flying open and your body sitting upright as you enter fight-or-flight mode, preparing for whoever is coming. You curl in on yourself, pressing yourself into the metal bed frame your wrists are chained to.

You’ve been here for two weeks, maybe. Actually, you’re not too sure, you haven’t seen the sun in a while, nor have you seen your captor. Once a day the door at the top of the stairs of this dingy basement will open and someone will come down to give you food, but not before turning off the light so you can’t see who it is.

The lights stay on this time. And the person is walking down the stairs with abnormally heavy footsteps, letting you know that they want you to know they’re coming. When the person does finally come downstairs, you gasp, your eyes furrowing in confusion.

It’s the therapist you met with a few weeks ago, the one who told you that you were being irrational for thinking you were being followed. The wicked smirk underneath his beard mixed with the dark look in his eyes reek of malice, of no good intentions. His blond hair is pushed back, only a few strands framing his face.

“You… You’re-”

“Your therapist? Yeah,” He stalks forward, stopping at the end of your small bed. “Technically, though, I’m not a therapist. I’m not a doctor of any kind.”

His smirk widens as he says, “I’m Steve Rogers.”

Your eyes widen comically, your mouth hanging open in disbelief. Because this is impossible, just absolutely impossible that Captain America himself has kidnapped you. This… It just doesn’t make sense, especially since the man in question doesn’t seem super concerned with you, clearly. This is the first time - well, technically second - that you’ve ever seen him yet his demeanor screams indifference.

“Wh-where am I?” You ask frantically, tugging on your restraints in a vain attempt to break free, though you know full well you won’t be able to get out of them considering you’ve been trying ever since you got here. “What am I doing here?”

Steve laughs, bending down and squatting so he’s eye-level with you.

“Where you are is of no concern to you, sweetheart.” He says the name condescendingly, teasing you for your confusion. “As to why you’re here… Well, that’s a story for later. Right now we’re going to go upstairs so you can shower.”

Your body tenses when he pulls a key from his pocket and leans over you. Though, surprisingly, he doesn’t harm you, he only unlocks the chains and drops them to the side of the bed. However, he grips both of your wrists in one of his large hands and holds them in place as he leans back and looks you in the eye. Holding up a large knife in his other hand, he gently taps the tip of the blade against your temple.

“If you try anything, anything, I have no problem teaching you a lesson.”

Your stomach drops, and though every fiber of your being is screaming at you to fight back, to kick and punch him with all your might, to grab the knife and stab him, the logical part of your brain knows you wouldn’t win. He’s a super-soldier, could literally break your neck with one of his hands, and his threat makes your anxiety spike, so you slowly nod. Fear rises in your body when Steve raises his eyebrows, gritting his teeth in frustration.

Clearly, he’s waiting for a verbal response.

“O-okay,” You whisper, trying to maintain eye contact, but you can’t help but look away due to how intense his gaze is.

Steve nods with finality, yanking on your arms and causing you to trip over the thin blanket as you’re pulled from your bed. Since you haven’t walked in several days - other than shuffling to the toilet just a few feet from your bed - your legs are a little numb and sore, almost fumbling around like a baby deer.

It’s a chore walking up the stairs, but when you do get to the bathroom, Steve’s laid out clean clothes for you on the bathroom counter - clothes that look surprisingly familiar to some that you own, and a towel is right outside the shower. You’re extremely uneasy as Steve instructs you to undress and get in the shower, though he turns around so he’s unable to see. You feel like crying, everything you feared was right, you were right all along, and you can’t help but feel ire towards everyone who downplayed it.

“Hurry up,” Steve demands when he realizes you’re simply standing under the spray, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth in annoyance.

So, instead of crying, you decide to speed through showering, turning off the water after five minutes. It’s very awkward when you get out, always keeping your eyes on him to make sure he doesn’t turn around as you dry off and get changed.

“O-okay, I’m done.”

Steve hums, turning and grabbing your arm so he can pull you down a hallway, the whole way he’s carrying his knife in a very visible manner. When you turn a corner, it’s into a room with very little furniture, only a large TV and a simple wooden chair right in front of it with a small coffee table in between the two.

“What is this?”

“Will you fucking stop asking questions?” He snaps, yanking you further into the room. He takes you over to the chair, pushes you down into it, and quickly straps your forearms to the arms of the chair. He does the same to your ankles - securing them to the legs of the chair.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You retort, somehow mustering up a confidence you’re sure is about to dissipate with whatever is about to happen. “I guess I’ll just go along with you kidnapping me.”

You can’t see him but you’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, and your sudden confidence causes you to wiggle frantically in the chair, tugging at your straps in an attempt to break them, though the straps only seem to dig into your skin. Steve huffs then turns on the TV, pulling a chair out from the side of the room and setting it next to yours. As he sits, he places folders on the table, staring into your eyes with an unsettling gaze.

“Listen, I’m not the one that wants you, I’m merely here to get you… prepared for who I’m gifting you to.” Steve smirks as he says it, picking up a folder and opening it before placing it in your lap.

In the folder is a picture of a man with shoulder-length brown hair, beautifully piercing blue eyes, and stubble covering his jaw, the upper part of his body that’s visible shows you that he’s wearing a tight red henley with just the faintest hint of some sort of black metal where his left arm would be. In any other circumstance you might have found him attractive, he might have been someone you’d pursue. But knowing that he’s probably the one who had you taken just makes you want to meet him so you can stab him.

“That’s Bucky,” Steve says, interrupting your thoughts. “He’s my best friend, has been for my whole life. We’ve always had each other's backs, I’d do anything for him, I’d give him anything he wants or needs.” He speaks fondly of this ‘Bucky’ person, and your eyebrows furrow because you’ve heard that name before. You’re not sure where, but you know it.

“And what he wants,” He continues, pulling out the knife and tapping the pointed tip of it against your knee. “Is you.”

“Fuck you,” You hiss, immediately tensing when the knife digs into your skin. It’s not hard enough to pierce it but it gives you just enough pain to get you to stop talking.

Steve ignores your cursing, simply taking the file from your lap and placing it on the coffee table. He starts pulling more pictures out of other folders, spreading them out until the entire table is covered in pictures of this man.

Your stomach drops immediately, some pictures are of him in an army uniform when he was younger, and some are of him and Steve, though it’s cropped to show mainly this ‘Bucky’ person. But what makes you tense is several pictures of the man strapped to a chair with what looks like metal securing his arms to the arms of the chair, some contraption around his head. He has something in his mouth, and his face and neck are tense to suggest he’s trying to scream - presumably from pain.

“Wh-What is this?”

Steve sighs, nearly unable to look at the pictures himself.

“This is Bucky, but you may know him as the Winter Soldier.”

Gasping, your eyes widen in fear. You’ve read the articles, you’ve heard the stories, you’ve just never seen his actual face. Even though the government pardoned him, the general public doesn’t have the most positive view of him. You, yourself, didn’t really have an opinion of him, if the government said he was better then you took them at their word.

Clearly, you were wrong.

“You see, I wasn’t initially on board with this whole thing, I thought it was a little obsessive and toxic. But, he loves you, I can see it every time he talks about you, I see his eyes light up whenever he even looks at a picture of you. And, quite frankly, the longer this went on I knew he needed to have you. And I’d go to the ends of the earth for him.”

Steve seems to think for a moment before he speaks again. “He’s been watching you for a while, knows your routine, knows how to break into your apartment unseen. However, he’s been assigned to an extended mission, so he’s tasked me with watching you and updating him on everything you do. He doesn’t know I’ve already taken you, I’ve been lying to him these past couple of weeks, but it’s for the greater good.”

He pauses, smirking when he notices you’re frozen, trying to take all of this in.

“As you can see,” Steve continues, picking up one of the more gruesome pictures, “He’s been through a lot. He’s endured pain and torture no man should ever go through, he’s never been in control of anything. His life, his actions, his own mind. And now, through therapy and time, he’s finally gotten to the point where he’s ready to take his life back. And it starts with you.”

With that, Steve sets the picture down and stands, grabbing a remote next to the TV and turning it on.

“No. Fuck no, fuck you,” You suddenly snap at him, anger rising, but it doesn’t seem to outweigh the fear coursing through your veins. You’re trying to fight the dread, though.

Steve rolls his eyes, then pulls a cloth out of his back pocket as he walks over to you.

“Since you don’t know how to shut up, maybe this will work.” With a smirk, he grabs your face and forces your mouth open, quickly shoving the towel in to stifle your noises.

Then he turns back to the TV, blocking your view of what he’s doing. After a few moments, he moves to stand behind you, placing both of his large hands on your shoulders.

“We have about two months before he comes back, which is when I’ll… gift you to him. So, in an attempt to get you on board with this whole thing before that, I think it’s best if I show you these tapes so you can truly understand what he’s been through. And maybe this will help you see that he does deserve happiness and love, and that you will be that for him.”

With that, he clicks a button on the remote, and the large screen displays Bucky, once again strapped to a chair in the middle of what looks like a glorified warehouse. Then, Steve puts noise-canceling headphones over your ears, fiddling with the sound so it’s just loud enough that it’s impossible to even think about anything, but not so loud as to damage your eardrums.

You don’t notice Steve leaving the room, all you know is that as the door closes Bucky’s screams start echoing through the headphones. Your eyes squeeze shut, desperately trying to tune it out, the truly agonizing sounds he’s making are shaking you to your core and causing you to want to vomit.

But it’s no use, you can’t hear anything but the people around him saying words in what you assume is Russian and Bucky’s pained groans. And as you listen, only one thought passes through your mind.

Why me?

____________

This goes on for weeks. Twice a week you’re allowed to go upstairs to shower, though Steve stays in the bathroom with you to ensure you don’t try anything. Then he’ll take you to that room, strap you down, and force you to listen to Bucky’s cries, force you to read the files on him during his time as the Soldier, force you to sit still and endure this for hours at a time with tears constantly streaming down your face.

At first, you felt anger and ire towards the man holding you captive. And while you want to fight him with all your might, you know you wouldn’t win, especially since he’s shown you his quite extensive collection of weaponry. It terrifies you, rightfully so considering Steve has been nothing but awful to you.

And at this point, despite every fiber of your being screaming at you to do something to at least try and escape, you really can’t help but feel sympathy for Bucky. He’s a victim, you’ve come to realize—a victim of horrendous crimes at the hands of some of the most depraved people to ever exist.

It’s confusing and frustrating beyond belief. Yes, you’ve concluded that he does deserve a good life, but that doesn’t mean you want to be a part of it. However, a small part of you does feel inclined to believe Steve when he talks about how wonderful his friend is, how caring he is, and how much he loves you.

Of course, the ‘love’ part of that statement isn’t actually correct, it’s fallen beyond that into obsession, delusion, and downright insanity. Steve doesn’t seem to care about that though. In fact, at this point, he seems to encourage it. The perfect hero the outside world sees is all a facade, because the longer you’ve been here the more you’ve seen of his true nature, one he doesn’t even seem to know the extent of.

You’re allowed upstairs today, Steve is unusually quiet as he drags you up to the bathroom. But when you’re done showering, instead of making you get dressed he turns slightly so he can hand you a razor while still looking away from your naked body. With a shaky hand, you slowly reach out and take it, your eyebrows furrowing.

“What’s this for?”

“To shave.” Even though you can’t see his face, you’re pretty sure Steve’s rolling his eyes. When he hears that you don’t move, Steve reaches into his pocket to pull out a knife, not too big but just big enough to scare you into getting with the program. “Hurry up.”

“O-Okay,” You mumble, getting back into the shower. You’re confused as to where he’s expecting you to shave, so you start with the basics; your underarms and legs. Through the fogged glass of the shower door, you see Steve lazily twirling the knife, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

You’re extremely confused as to why you’re being made to do this, though a small part of you has a suspicion. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been here, it feels like months, though that may be caused by the fact that you’re seldom allowed out of that deadly quiet and dark basement unless it’s to shower or watch those videos. Most of the time you’re left to yourself, simply waiting in the dark.

You’re careful to not cut yourself but the anxiety of what Steve would do if you weren’t quick forced you to rush.

As though Steve can tell you’re done, he makes sure to add, “Everywhere.”

Oh God, you think with tears in your eyes. I am meeting him today.

It’s awkward, extremely so, and you try your hardest to forget that Steve is in the room while you shave the rest of your body. That takes a few tedious minutes, something Steve seems to be aware of because he’s not rushing you through that part.

After finishing, it takes a few moments of deep breathing before you gain the courage to step out of the shower and take the towel next to it. And, as usual, it doesn’t take long for you to dry off, though you notice the lack of clothes on the counter.

What you do see is what looks like a light pink teddy-style lingerie set. The body is a see-through fabric yet the lace-covered cups, thankfully, cover your breasts. Very small panties rest next to it, so small you wonder how they can even be called underwear.

When Steve turns to look at you, you quickly wrap the towel around your body, vibrating with anxiety and dread. He nods to the set, then says, “I’ll be on the other side of this door, if you don’t come out in two minutes I’ll come and get you myself.” However, his dark tone and evil smirk let you know that he actually means he’ll forcefully drag you out.

As soon as the door closes and you’re alone, you pick up the thin underwear and slowly slide it up your legs, then you pull the teddy over your head and adjust it so the cups cover your breasts and the rest flows around your body, thankfully covering the underwear by just a few inches. It’s still see-through, so there is very little that’s left to the imagination.

And as you’re standing in the bathroom, you finally look at yourself in the mirror, but you don’t see your reflection. Someone else is staring back, someone with sunken eyes, no life to them at all. This body is thinner than you remember, though lack of proper food will do that to a person.

The person you’re staring at isn’t you, it may resemble you, but it’s not you. Although, who are you anymore? You’ve been alone with this man for months with no connection to the outside world, you haven’t had any positive human contact in what feels like forever, and your withered physical state seeps into your mental state.

You’re so tired. Sleep never comes easily, but even without that everything is just too much and overwhelming and all you want to do is curl into a ball on the floor and sob and try to forget that you’re being held captive, that you’ll probably never see your friends and family again.

A harsh knock on the door snaps you out of your daze. With one final look in the mirror, you turn and go to the door so you can open it and see Steve standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. You have the strong urge to cross your own arms to try and hide from his piercing gaze, but you don’t want to upset him any further by doing so. Quickly, Steve pulls out a blindfold from his pocket, his stare is a silent command to not move.

You’re shaking now, trying hard to stay still as he adjusts the blindfold over your head. Next, you feel a soft fabric wrap around your shoulders, and Steve moves your arms so he can slip what you assume to be a robe around your body. This, at least, you’re grateful for.

With that, Steve takes your arm in his grasp, pulling you along, though mindful of the fact that you can’t see.

“Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

____________

‘Come to the cabin’

That’s the text Steve sent that Bucky received right as he stepped off the quinjet. Curiosity rises, and his eyebrows furrow, and he types out a quick response as he walks towards Tony’s lab.

‘Why?’

‘Just do it’

Bucky huffs, texting back that he will after he gets his arm checked out. And now, knowing that Steve probably has something waiting for him back at the cabin he built, it seems to take forever for Tony to quit tinkering with the wires in his arm. His leg was bouncing the entire time, simply glaring at Tony any time he asked “What’s wrong tin-man?” But, finally, the work is done about an hour later and Bucky is quick to grab his bag and head down to his motorcycle.

It’s a couple hours drive from the tower to get to the cabin, and after he drives through the entrance of the land he purchased the roads get a little rockier, and Bucky curses softly every time his motorcycle wobbles slightly. It takes entirely too long for him to actually reach the house, and the entire ride over had him on edge, his natural anxiety peaking with every unanswered text he sends Steve.

Finally, finally, he gets there, parking his bike next to Steve’s car and taking note of its emptiness. Something seems off, and Bucky has to fight the urge to take out his gun, Steve’s here after all, nothing is going to happen.

Still, something is going on.

Bucky enters the cabin cautiously, silent footsteps traveling down the front hall to the living room where Steve stands, tall and proud and smiling wide.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says, the joy in his voice clear as day.

“Hey, Steve. What’s going on?” Bucky sets his bag down on the couch, looking around to see if anything is out of place. He’d finished decorating before he left for the mission, planning on taking you soon after he came back. But when his friend doesn’t answer, Bucky’s heart starts speeding up with anxiety.

“Steve?”

“Just…” Steve stops, unable to wipe the smile off his face. “Just come with me.”

With that, Steve starts towards the hall, ignoring Bucky’s questioning gaze. With no other choice, Bucky follows down the hall to his bedroom, where his friend stands in front of the closed door.

“I have a… welcome home present for you.”

Once again, Bucky’s eyebrows furrow because Steve has never given him a random gift before. Well, he likes to get Bucky little trinkets if he’s off on missions, but he’s never been this excited for a gift.

“Okay…” Bucky draws out the last syllable, walking forward with slow and cautious steps until he can step past his friend. With a deep breath and a questioning look to Steve, Bucky opens the door, his eyes automatically drawn to his bed.

“Steve…” Tears fill his eyes immediately, and if he wasn’t a super-soldier he’d think he was having a heart attack with how fast his heart is beating, how borderline painful the tightness in his chest is.

“Do you like it?”

Bucky ignores the question, simply walking forward until he reaches the side of the bed, sitting on the edge precariously. His hand reaches out, scared that this is a dream and he’ll wake up soon. He couldn’t take it if this was a dream, it’s too real to be a dream.

Because you’re finally here. Lying on his bed in a beautiful silk robe wrapped around your body, each of your arms and legs tied to the bedposts of the canopy bed. Bucky feels like fainting, like collapsing to the ground in tears.

“Steve,” Bucky chokes out, looking back at his friend who also has happy tears in his eyes. “How?”

“After you left for the mission, I just knew this was the perfect time. I lied to you about where she was, and I’m sorry for that, but I wanted to make sure I had time to get her ready.” Steve steps forward, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I told you I’d do anything for you, Buck.”

Bucky starts actually crying then. Oh how lucky he is to be surrounded by love, by his girl and his best friend who wants him to be happy. Steve squeezes his shoulder, letting Bucky lean into his stomach and cry for a minute. When the crying tapers off, Bucky manages to lean back so he can look Steve in the eyes.

“Thank you, Stevie. I mean it,” Bucky hiccups, wiping away his tears before looking back at you. You’re blindfolded with a cloth in your mouth, preventing you from seeing what’s going on, and unable to protest this whole thing.

“I’ll go now. You go enjoy your present.”

With that, Steve turns and leaves, giving his friend one last smile before it’s just you and Bucky.

“Angel,” Bucky whispers softly, his fingers brushing against your cheek. He strokes his thumb against your cheekbone, staring intensely yet lovingly at your quivering form. Slowly, he brings both of his hands up so he can untie the blindfold and throw it to the side. Your eyes blink open, immediately squinting at the harsh light. Something which Bucky seems to notice.

It’s scary, almost, how Bucky can seem to read your emotions because he rushes over to the light switch and dims them, letting your eyes adjust properly. He walks back over to the bed, deciding to lay down on his side next to your body, propping himself on his elbow so he can run his other hand over your covered stomach.

A muffled whine causes him to stop, his eyes looking up at you with a concerned gaze.

“What’s wrong, angel?” But then his eyes widen, seeming to realize that you can’t speak. He does something surprising, at least to you. He actually takes the gag out of your mouth, throwing it to the side as well. “Is that better?”

He asks so softly, so warmly, that it confuses you greatly. You’d heard about how much Bucky ‘loves’ you, but you didn’t realize exactly how far it went until now that you’re witnessing it for yourself. For a moment you’re not quite sure what to do. Do you beg him to let you go? Do you lash out at him? Do you cry?

You want to do all three, but you can’t. Your voice is caught in the back of your throat, you’ve gone mute, not even a whimper escaping your lips. There’s really nothing you’re able to do other than stare directly into Bucky’s eyes, still filled with tears of what must be joy.

“My angel?” He asks with a concerned tone, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

Again, confusion. But you haven’t spent more than a few minutes with him so you’re not quite sure how he’ll physically react if you do anything like you did with Steve. You decide to play it safe.

“My… My wrists hurt.” Your voice comes out smaller than intended, and you have to force yourself to keep eye contact with Bucky as his eyes widen again.

“Oh, shit,” Buckyy curses to himself, quickly shuffling onto his knees. “Don’t worry, baby.” Another surprise comes when he willingly and without much thought starts untying the rope binding your arms. And though your wrists are now freed, your ankles are still tied. On instinct, you shift your right leg, slightly tugging on the rope.

Bucky sees this too, though he hesitates for a second. Should he untie your legs? Bucky likes to think you wouldn’t run, but, realistically, he knows this is all new for you. Ultimately he decides to only free one ankle. Once he does so he starts rubbing and massaging the slight burn the rope left on your foot.

Bucky’s frowning now.

Leaning down, he presses a delicate kiss to the area, then he straightens up again. Bucky resumes his position next to you, though, this time, he rearranges you both so you’re lying in between his legs with your back pressed to his chest. For a moment, everything seems frighteningly normal, with Bucky pressing kisses to your temple and cheek as he starts soothing your wrists.

Your heartbeat is speeding up, and you’re so frozen with fear and confusion that you can’t do much else but let this all happen. Until, eventually, you’re able to find your voice.

“Um. I - Wha-”

“Oh, angel,” Bucky cuts you off with a coo. “I know you must be so confused, and I’ll explain everything, I promise.”

With care, Bucky moves your arms so he can hold both of your wrists in one of his hands. With his free hand he leans over to grab the picture frame on his nightstand, and brings it up so you can see it. And it brings tears to your eyes, one of concern for not just your physical safety but Bucky’s mental state.

Because it’s a picture of the two of you, horribly photoshopped to make it look like it would be a normal picture a couple in love would take. And this serves as a reminder of all the trauma he’s been through, and that maybe this is his way of coping.

A sick and twisted way of coping.

“I’m not too good with technology, as you can see,” Bucky huffs out a little laugh, pressing another kiss to your cheek. “But we don’t have any pictures together yet, so, until we could take some, this is the best I could do.”

Still unable to really say anything, you let out a cautious hum and let him continue.

“Looking at this picture, at all of the pictures I’ve taken over the last several months… it’s what helps me get through the day. Looking at you, knowing that one day you’d be mine, it’s that that keeps me sane. Knowing that I’ll get to love you for the rest of our lives is what makes all the pain I’ve endured worth it.”

“Why me?” It’s the first thought that crosses your mind at the moment, one you need to know the answer to.

“Oh, my angel,” Bucky coos again, placing the picture back down on the table so he can wrap both of his arms around your body, cuddling you close to his chest. “Why not you? You’re so beautiful, so kind, so innocent and sweet. I knew it from the moment I first saw you in that little library, curled up on that couch with a book in your hands. You were so focused on reading that you didn’t even realize I’d been staring at you for several minutes.”

Bucky chuckles again, squeezing you tighter to his chest until you let out a noise of pain. He immediately loosens his hold, murmuring an apology with his lips pressed against your temple. After a moment of tense silence, Bucky speaks again.

“Are you hungry?” That question receives a ‘yes’ in the form of your stomach grumbling. The man behind you laughs, then shuffles out from under you.

“Okay, darling, I’ll go get some food. You just lay here and look beautiful,” Bucky leans over you, gazing down at you with such intense devotion. “Beautiful,” he mutters to himself, almost as if he’s unaware he’s even speaking. With no warning, he leans his head down, and you’re narrowly able to dodge his kiss by turning your head.

Bucky sighs dejectedly, clearly not happy with that decision. You can feel the bedsheet next to you twist as he grips the sheets in frustration, and your heart rate spikes again in fear of what he might do.

He doesn’t do anything, merely moves off of your body and gives you one final longing look before heading off to fetch food.

As soon as he’s out of the room you’re sitting upright, hands immediately going to the rope and trying desperately to untie it. But it’s no use, of course it’s not, because Steve’s too smart to make the binds loose enough to even wiggle your foot out of the loop.

It takes no more than five minutes for Bucky to come back, returning with a bowl of soup and a glass you’re hoping is just water. Upon hearing his arrival, you resume your original position, hoping that Bucky won’t notice the fact that you were desperately tearing at the ropes.

He doesn’t seem to because he just moves you both into position - your back to his chest. When you try to take a sip of the water, Bucky gently swats your hand away, taking charge by being the one to hold the glass to your lips, the one who feeds you your soup, the one that holds you tight to his chest as though this is all normal.

And as you’re eating, so many emotions are running through your body. Fear and confusion are the more prominent ones. Though, you’re so exhausted that part of you doesn’t appear to care.

So, for the time being, you let this happen, let yourself be held and hand-fed by the man holding you captive.

____________

Six months. Or has it been seven? Hell, a year? You’re not too sure. Due to your… situation, you haven’t been allowed outside, nor are you allowed to watch the news. The only true concept of time you have are the clocks littered throughout the house.

There’s nothing good about any of this, but at least Bucky has been nothing but kind to you. He treats you with care, gives you soft kisses in the morning, and leaves you little love notes in random places he knows you’ll see. He’s infuriatingly perfect, and you so desperately want to forget that you didn’t come here of your own free will, that you’ve been forced away from your family and friends and normal life. Because if you’d met him naturally you’re sure you would have loved him, you would have cherished the way he dotes over and so clearly adores you. It’s the life you’ve always wished for.

That wish was granted in the form of being held captive by a man who is so clearly in mental distress. His obsession with you almost makes you feel sick, like if anything happened to you he’d mentally break, and that scares you. It’s frightening because you don’t want anything to happen to him. Sure, you’re not in love with him and you’re still on slightly guard, but you know what he’s been through. You know all the pain he’s endured, all the torture and torment.

He deserves happiness, and you’re getting kind of scared of what will happen to him if anything happens to you.

Fuck, you think, what’s happening to me?

You’re not too sure exactly what day it is, but Bucky has been giddy ever since you both woke up. He let you sleep in, cuddling you close for a good thirty minutes and giving you absentminded kisses every once in a while before he decided to get up and make breakfast.

When he leaves the sane part of you forces you to quickly glance around the room in an attempt to find a way out. You know you won’t though, all the doors in the house are locked and there’s only one window in this room that’s made of bulletproof glass that’s bolted shut - something you found out when you desperately tried opening it when you first got here.

You’d been here for about two weeks, walking on eggshells around Bucky in an effort to not upset him. Sure, he seems to be the opposite of Steve in his actions, but you’re still unsure of how he’d truly be if you acted out - his metal arm is a major factor in that anxiety.

At the time Bucky was in the kitchen setting things up for your first ‘date’ and had been researching different recipes for the last week to make this meal perfect. He placed candles on the table and had glasses of your favorite wine set up, red rose petals littering the cloth-covered table.

He went back to the room when he heard loud thumps, and when he did get there he saw you banging on the window - rather aggressively. Tears filled your eyes as you whimpered sadly, unable to break the glass.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks with a confused tone.

You whip around, eyes widened in fear because surely this would get you into major trouble. Now the tears in your eyes aren’t out of despair, they’re out of fear. What is he going to do to you? Hopefully nothing worse than Steve’s already done, but there’s no way for you to know.

“Are you… trying to leave?” What’s weird is that he sounds sad, heartbroken really. Like he can’t believe that you’d want to leave when he’s shown that he can provide for you.

You’re unable to find your words, so you simply back up until your back hits a wall, and your arms come up to your chest as you cower away from him. Your eyes betray you by glancing back to the window.

“No, you - you can’t leave me!” Bucky’s voice raises, now almost angry - though you’re not too sure if it’s directed completely at you.

But then your eyes glance past Bucky toward the door, assessing the situation and making a quick determination on whether you could push past him and run out of the room.

“No. No, don’t you dare leave me!” He begs loudly, taking three large steps forward until he’s right in front of your shivering form. “Not like this, I - I just… I just got you.” One of his hands comes up to gently hold one of your wrists, his other hand moving to caress your cheek, though you can’t help but flinch when his hand gets closer.

“I-I’m sorry,” You whimper, clenching your eyes shut to avoid looking at the absolute despair evident on Bucky’s face. “I - I didn’t… I was just… I-” You can’t find many words, you’re just hoping your begging will prevent this from escalating.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

Bucky sniffles, causing you to peek an eye open. And Bucky, well, he looks concerned, confused, hurt. Tears are falling down his cheeks as he shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, bringing your wrist up so he can place a kiss on your palm. “I would never hurt you. I don’t… I don’t know what Steve said or did but I - I promise! I won’t hurt you, ever. Just…”

At your wide eyes and worried gaze Bucky falls to his knees, placing his forehead against your stomach and wrapping both of his arms around your waist to prevent you from moving.

“Just don’t leave me.”

You felt so guilty that you hadn’t tried again since.

You sighed, rolling over and laying on your back. Looking to your right, your gaze lands on a framed photo of you sleeping on Bucky’s chest from a few months ago. While there are plenty of pictures of you and him scattered throughout the cabin, this one is Bucky’s favorite. Because this was on your supposed three-month anniversary.

Bucky had woken up early that morning, fully intending to start the special day by making you breakfast. However, he knew from the moment his eyes opened that it would be nearly impossible to physically move for a while. Your body was almost completely lying on top of his, pinning him to the bed with your face tucked into his neck. Of course, he could easily move you without even waking you, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave his version of paradise.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a soft whistle, the noise getting louder the closer Bucky gets to your room. Sitting up, you look to the door and see him entering with a tray filled with coffee, orange juice, pancakes, and your favorite assortment of fruits. The single red rose in a small vase is the cherry on top.

Fuck him for being perfect.

Bucky sets the tray down on the table next to his side of the bed then crawls under the covers again, pulling you to sit sideways on his lap.

“Good morning, my angel,” He mumbles as he presses small kisses to your cheek. You force a smile, though you can’t deny that part of it is real. It feels good to be loved and cherished, and you’re trying so hard to remind yourself that this isn’t that, this isn’t where you’re meant to be.

But Bucky is good at making you forget that part.

“Um, what’s all this for?” You ask timidly, your eyes glancing from the food to Bucky, whose eyes soften with sympathy.

“You didn’t know? It’s our anniversary!” His smile brightens, his arms tightening his hold around your body to hug you closer to his chest. “Six months ago, Steve gave me the best gift I’ve ever received.”

Six months? Time sure flies when you have no perception of it.

“Oh,” You whisper, fiddling with your fingers. “I-I’m sorry, I must have forgotten.”

Bucky shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he says, “It’s okay, darling.”

“But I didn’t get you a gift,” You say remorsefully, glancing around the room as though you’ll find anything.

“Oh, no. No baby, you don’t have to get me anything. You being here is more than enough for me.” Bucky’s smile widens, placing a hand on the back of your neck so he can angle your head in just the right position that he can lean down and press his lips against yours. It’s soft, gentle, just like how Bucky treats you.

When he leans back he rests his forehead on yours, letting your lips brush against each other.

“I love you, angel,” He murmurs, not wanting to ruin the serenity of the moment.

And you have to try so hard not to tense, because those words always make you remember that you’ve been kidnapped and taken to some house in the middle of nowhere. It reminds you that this man is deeply disturbed, that he needs more help than he probably thinks if he thinks that this is true love.

But you smile anyway, trying to not let it waver when you reply with, “I love you too, Bucky.” And Bucky looks like he’s about to cry, just like every other time you tell him you love him.

There’s a few moments of silence, tears of joy in Bucky’s eyes while yours are filled with tears of exhaustion. You’re tired. So fucking tired of pretending. But for the time being, you’re just going to let yourself be held, you’re just going to let go of all of your negative emotions and melt into the moment.

“Angel?” When Bucky pauses, you hum in curiosity.

“Can you kiss me again?”

#let me know what y'all think!#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky #james bucky barnes #bucky fic rec #bucky barns #bucky barns imagine #stalker!bucky #soft!dark!bucky #my writing #jessybarnesreaches500

916 notes · View notes

kaismasterlist · 1 year ago

Text

|| Bliss ||

Description: What happens when a spoiled and disgraced Princess is handed off to an ex-Winter Soldier as a strategy for the royal family to be rid of her and ensure the Soldier's loyalty to them at the same time?

Pairing: Dark Ex-Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes | Brat Princess!Reader.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Bucky Barnes. This series contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Dark themes that vary from chapter to chapter.

Status: Complete.

Chapters:

III

#bliss masterlist #kais masterlist #bliss #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x y/n #dark!bucky smut #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x smut #dark marvel #dark!winter soldier #winter soldier smut #winter soldier

1K notes · View notes

earlgreydream · 7 months ago

Text

🍓 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.

#strawberry!au #stockholm!reader #strawberry kisses #marvel #bucky barnes #avengers au #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky smut #winter soldier #bucky imagine #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky

208 notes · View notes