Pairing: dark!Bucky Barnes x innocent!reader
Word Count: 7.7k 😩 (approx 20 min read!)
Warnings: 18+, minors DNI! THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC. Please take our warnings seriously. The subject matter is very disturbing.. Dubcon, non-con, loss of virginity, kidnapping, slapping, choking, coercion, mental and emotional abuse, swearing, alcohol, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, dacryphilia, blood play, drugging, degradation, brainwashing, oral (f receiving), fingering, male masturbation, spitting
A/N: This is the entry @sableseb and I are submitting for the @basementwiveswritingchallenge (found here). This was the most fun I’ve ever had writing a fic and I’m genuinely so glad to have her as my twisted sister through and through! It’s the longest thing we’ve written so buckle up 😉 - @fuckandfluff
Tay came to me with this challenge and I couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity to collab. It just seemed right to partner up with her to create something darker. Our minds our genuinely one. It’s scary sometimes, and that’s what makes us a good team. I hope everyone enjoys this as much as we do.x - @sableseb
Another summer has crept up on your little midwestern town, the nights growing longer as the Fourth of July grew closer. Your neighborhood association threw a block party the second Friday of every month as a way for new residents to get acquainted with the more established members of the community. That’s when you saw him: tall and muscular with chiseled features, a dusting of stubble across his sharp jaw, and a fluffy mop of chestnut locks, he was stunning.
He’d mentioned moving into your cul-de-sac just a few weeks prior, but you hadn’t noticed, too swept up in studying for end-of-semester exams. You’d assumed that a man as handsome as him surely had a family, but that assumption was wrong. Harmless neighborhood gossip had revealed that he was recently widowed, having moved here from Manhattan to escape the painful memories the city held.
You couldn’t begin to fathom what he’s been through, he held a look in his eyes that told a story of pure hurt and longing. Bucky Barnes is a mysterious man to say the least. He seems to keep to himself mostly. So seeing him there, mingling in the crowd and introducing himself amongst the community was a sight that struck a bit of bewilderment upon you.
His smile was bright, drawing people into his charming nature. You could see the women hanging onto every word that escaped those full lips. But those eyes gave him away each time. No matter how much he laughed, how much he flirted, how much he talked...you feel as though it’s just an act. An elaborate ruse to have people think he’s fine.
A toxic trait you’ve tried to work on is your inherent desire to fix broken things. And Bucky is clearly broken. One sunny afternoon, you pluck up the courage to pay him a visit with a basket of freshly baked scones in tow. His home is tucked at the end of the street, sitting quite a ways back on the property line. As you strut up the lengthy cobblestone walkway to his front door, you take in the ornate hedges framing the entire home and can’t help but think of how much privacy they must afford him. You arrive at his doorstep, knocking once, twice, before Bucky swings the large oak door open.
“Uh, hi y/n. Can I help you?” he inquired, awkwardly rubbing the nape of his neck with his calloused palm.
Those eyes - wow, had they always been that piercingly blue? Almost getting lost in them and nearly forgetting the reason for your visit, you stutter, “just wanted to bring you these!” You take a step forward and push the basket of baked goods between the two of you.
Bucky has never seen you this close up since he moved in. He always takes you in from afar, admiring the way you tend to your flowers, how you sit on your porch each morning with a cup of coffee just enjoying the coolness the morning air brings, playing with your nephews when they’d visit each weekend.
Now that you’re in his direct line of sight, he’s almost in tears. You’re gorgeous. Just like she was. You have her rounded eyes and wavy hair. The dainty hands you’re wringing together at the moment remind him of her soft touch, how her wedding ring formed around her slender finger just right. His heart clenches. Bucky loved his wife more than anything. She was his light. And now, after being engulfed in darkness for years, he stumbled upon you. You’re his hope and he’s not going to let this hope fade. He has to have you in his life.
“Would you care to come in?” Bucky’s voice is laced with a hope that you can’t deny.
“Of course,” you tell him, stomach erupting in butterflies. He’s wanting to be social with you.
As Bucky ushers you into his home, you can’t help but gawk at the countless photos adorning the walls in the narrow foyer; a wedding photo, random little snapshots of his wife looking like an absolute goddess, photos of the two of them with beaming grins plastered across their faces in front of the Eiffel Tower or some other romantic destination. You weren’t sure how long it had been since his wife had passed, but clearly the wounds must have still been fresh. All you want is to try and bring a little bit of joy to his life. It seems like he never leaves the house except to grab a load of groceries or fetch the mail. No one deserves to be this lonely.
“I didn’t mean to just invite myself over,” you shyly say, neatly tucking your ballerina flats on his doormat as he leads you to the living room, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“No need to apologize, doll. Wasn’t up to much anyway. Can I get you a drink?” He gestures for you to take a seat on the leather sectional as he ventures into the adjoining kitchen.
“Sure yeah, um, dealer’s choice!” you reply, easing into the plush leather seat.
You watch him make his way to the kitchen before turning your attention back to his living room. It’s all man. Dark hardwood flooring, a gray couch set, a sleek fireplace with a flatscreen resting above it. Bucky’s got taste. You wish your house looked as neat and clutter-free as his.
You’re drawn back to the photographs furnishing the shelves and walls. He truly looked happy. As you study his deceased wife more, you start to notice something. She looks a lot like yourself in the majority of these pictures. You suddenly feel odd, like there’s a reason for your resemblance. But you don’t dwell on it for too much longer as Bucky makes his way over to you.
Handing you a crystal highball glass filled with what looks to be cola, his large hand briefly brushes against yours and you can’t help but feel a spark. You push these unsavory thoughts back down, because the objective today was to offer friendship to Bucky, nothing more. Now was not the time to let your self-indulgent thoughts get the best of you.
“Thanks! What’s in it?” As you take your first sip, a tiny droplet dribbles down from your bottom lip. Bucky wipes the liquid from your chin with his thumb, letting out a small laugh. You feel your face heat at the contact. He’s just being nice, you remind yourself.
“It's rum and Coke.. hope that’s alright. Had to special order the rum because you can only get it in Miami,” he responds, settling into the seat adjacent to you.
As you take a more generous drink, the taste that hits your tongue is super familiar: “Florida Mermaid? I thought I was the only person in the Midwest who knew what it was...my family goes down every year to Destin and we always bring home a bottle.” What a total coincidence that he happened to know exactly what libation you loved.
That’s how the rest of your evening went, telling stories to one another. You both talked about your childhoods, your hobbies, your favorite movies. Bucky has to be the easiest man you’ve talked to. You would have never dreamed that your silent, brooding neighbor would be talking your ear off by telling you about himself. Neither of you bring up the elephant in the room, though. But it’s there. The foreboding question of, “what happened to your wife,” hangs heavy on your tongue, not daring to interrogate him on such a matter.
You glance up at the clock hanging on the wall. It’s almost midnight and you’re still drinking and chatting. “I really should get going. Thank you for the wonderful evening, Buck.”
Buck. He knows that nickname all too well from a woman that wasn’t you. From a woman he gave his whole heart to. Bucky can feel his cock start to harden as he imagines what it’d be like to have you whimper out his name just like she did while he’s between your legs.
“Anytime. I’ll walk you to the door.”
As you both say your goodbyes, Bucky’s left alone with images of you dancing through his mind. You’re so sweet he can practically taste you without even pressing his tongue against your warm flesh. He remembers the way your lip felt against his thumb, it was so soft and glistening from the drink.
Bucky sits back down on his couch and pulls his cock free from it’s confines. He slowly strokes himself to the thought of you on your knees for him, begging for his cum, begging him to fuck your throat. He needs to act fast, he doesn’t know how much more time he can take without you.
Nearly two weeks have passed since your visit with Bucky and he hasn’t escaped your mind. There’s a connection between the two of you that you just can’t shake. Flashes of his thumb brushing against your lip invade your thoughts daily, craving to know what his lips would feel like crashing against yours. But you don’t want to pry or poke too much - he knows where to find you if he wants another drink or maybe something more.
He’s been making himself scarce lately. In fact, he’s so swept up in some new home renovation project that he’s abandoned his grocery trips altogether and instead opts for home delivery. The only time you see him now is when he’s busy working away in his driveway.
Each afternoon you sit out on your porch, unable to keep your eyes off his chiseled physique as it glistens with pearls of sweat. A man who can use his hands is the ultimate turn-on and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander: What would those hands look like wrapped around my throat like a necklace?
You’ve thought about dropping off a glass of freshly pressed lemonade to quench his thirst as he works away on the front drive shirtless, sanding down what looks like antique furniture each afternoon. Yet you haven’t gained the courage to make the first move. Though in your second year of college, you’re still a virgin - not by way of religious conviction, but because every guy on campus just seems gross. A man like Bucky has been married already, to a gorgeous woman, you might add. He wasn’t going to be interested in a sad little virgin like you.
You sit and stew with your own musings most nights, always thinking about your neighbor. Your feelings are so jumbled when it comes to Bucky that it’s impossible to flesh out your true thoughts. He’s handsome and sweet, sure. But, there’s something else to him, something dark looming behind the lingering touches and soft smiles.
Morning comes and Bucky’s constant hammering and sawing have come to a halt. His tools aren’t even sprawled out along the concrete anymore. It’s like he was never there to begin with. Your heart seizes in your chest, you miss seeing him in nothing but his tight jeans, miss how his biceps bulge when he lifted a plank of wood, and especially how his hair and chest would dampen from the perspiration. He became part of your morning routine and he vanished just as soon as he appeared.
Curiosity gets the better of you when Bucky doesn’t show up for the town’s annual cookout on the Fourth. It’s a staple in the community each July, something you always look forward to with great enthusiasm. You’d love to experience the glittering fireworks display with Bucky in the bed of his pick-up, even just as friends. As the sky flashes bright hues of red, white, and blue, you race over to Bucky’s house to see if he’ll catch the tail end with you.
Before you’re even able to knock, Bucky greets you at the threshold of the doorway. His hand cups the small of your back, escorting you into the home with a sense of urgency.
“Sorry, I can’t stand the sound of fireworks. She - it just reminds me of gunshots,” he bemoans, a look of utter despair etched across his features.
“Don’t apologize, Bucky. Makes total sense why you wouldn’t want to be out, they can get so obnoxious sometimes,” you sympathize with him, assuming he’s making reference to his wife and her tragic demise. Rather than inquiring further and picking at the wound, you instead try to bring some bubbliness to the conversation.
“Why don’t we just stay in and try to make the best of what’s left of the evening. I can even tell you more embarrassing childhood stories!”
A beaming grin washes across his gorgeous, stubble-laced face: “Absolutely...I wouldn’t want anything else. I think the night calls for another round of rum and Coke, hmm?”
Bucky can’t believe how perfectly everything is falling into place. He didn’t even need to use the handcuffs and chloroform he had purchased from the hardware and drugstore earlier in the week. As he drops the tiny pill into your cocktail, he almost feels bad about how easy this is.
You can’t help the excitement that takes over you as he hands you the drink he made to you. He’s a really good mixer, there’s no questioning that. Comfortable silence takes over as you sip at the liquid, already feeling a bit light. “So,” Bucky begins, “how about some more of those stories?”
You start to tell him more tales of your childhood days, how you were accident prone and sported braces for months. As the conversation continues, the words seem harder to get out. Your thoughts are overlapping, your speech is slurring, your eyelids and mouth feel heavy. Something isn’t right. Fear overtakes your body as it slowly becomes unmovable.
“Bucky. I don’t...feel too well,” you choke out.
“It’s okay, I got you. Just lay back, you don’t look so good.”
He’s on you in an instant. You feel his warm hands cup your face, keeping your drooping head up. You can’t focus on anything much longer, darkness envelops you and you slouch against Bucky.
He has you. After all this time, he has you in his arms. He feels how smooth your skin is, how your little puffs of air are hitting his neck. He wants nothing more than to take you here and now, but he wants your first time with him to be special. Bucky wants you to be aware of who makes your tight cunt weep.
Picking you up, he makes his way to the basement, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he makes sure not to bump your head on anything. He’s worked so hard on everything for you. He needed everything in his basement to be perfect for his little wife. He watches each step carefully and makes it to the bottom.
Bucky gently places you down on the soft bed and starts to remove your clothing with ease. His breath hitches at your panty clad figure. Your breasts are on full display, nipples pebbling from being exposed to the air, your cotton underwear seems a size too small, accentuating your hips and mound.
He gathers his thoughts and pulls a floral sundress from the closet. This was her favorite one, he’s sure you’ll love it too. Bucky slips it on your sleeping form with no resistance. You look like a painting with your eyes closed, lips slightly parted and your hair splayed out. He leans in and places a kiss upon your forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment.
“Sleep well,” he whispers.
Your head is throbbing, the feeling much like a bad hangover but somehow even more intense. As your eyes flutter open, you’re met with unfamiliar surroundings. Sitting up sharply, you survey the room, suddenly becoming disoriented. Had you drank too much and fallen asleep at Bucky’s? How mortifying.
The room you find yourself in is decorated beautifully, gorgeous antiques placed on every surface and an ornate painting of the Italian countryside hanging above the mantle. It reminds you of a fancy hotel suite, though you can’t help but notice the absence of windows.
Glancing down, you realize the clothes you came over in are not the clothes you’re currently wearing and a white gold band is wrapped around your left ring finger. You can hear the creaking of footsteps on the hardwood above you, quickly realizing you must be in his basement. If it was just a change of clothes he gave you, it would add up. But the ring?
You’ve seen the ornate dresser and sturdy bookshelves that are now scattered around the room before. They’re the recent projects he’s been tirelessly working on in the driveway day after day. You’re suddenly thinking back to all of those photos of his wife, the striking resemblance between you two. The dress you’re currently wearing is the same one in their Eiffel Tower snapshot. Your heart pounds in your chest as you begin to understand the dire situation you’re in.
In a mad dash to get upstairs, you race up the narrow staircase but are blocked at the top by Bucky.
“Not so fast, wifey. Where do you think you’re going?”
You back away from him slowly, careful not to miss a step as you make your way down. He follows with a scowl. At this moment, you realize how much bigger he actually is compared to you. Bucky is a mountain of a man, all broad shoulders and taut chest. His thighs are firm and hips narrow. All that mixed with the way he’s eyeing you? You’re terrified.
“Bucky, just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone. We can just pretend this never happened,” you rush out. You wish you sounded more calm, more collected, but hysteria is slowly starting to take over.
“Oh, doll. You’re not going anywhere. You’re my wife now.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s still taking you in, need is building up inside him and he doesn’t know how much longer he can control himself.
“People will realize I’m missing, Bucky. They’ll come looking for me.”
Instead of striking worry in him, he just laughs. “Do you really think so little of me? I have everything taken care of. And you’ll make your appearances in town when I’ve trained you to need me, to obey me. I’m an easy man. But you don’t want to make me upset, sweetie.”
Tears form in the corners of your eyes and slowly pour down your cheeks. You have to get out of here. You work the band off your left hand and throw it at him: “I’m not your wife. You’re sick. You need help,” you spit.
Bucky’s blue eyes darken, clearly agitated at your deliberate disregard for the ring. He bends over to pluck the dainty gold band off the floor and yanks your wrist towards him aggressively.
“Trust me, sweetheart. It could be much worse for you,” he growls, jamming the ring back onto your finger, “if you don’t behave I have no problem keeping your corpse around instead.”
He slowly walks you backwards until your back hits the wall with a soft thud. His fingers forcefully lace with yours, his mouth hovering over the column of your throat. “Now it’s time to consummate this marriage with my pretty little bride. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
“Bucky,” you plead, “please don’t do this.”
No matter how much you beg and bargain, nothing can change his mind. He’s set on you, struck even. You look so ethereal as he looks down upon you. Eyes are puffy, lips trembling...it makes him hard. Bucky wants to ruin you, morph you into his dream wife. He’s already lost one and he’s not about to lose another.
He rocks into you, the feeling of his hardness pressing against your mound has you nauseous. But, the friction sends electricity creeping along your spine and whimpers falling past your mouth. You try to move your neck away from his onslaught of licks and sucks, but he doesn’t take too kindly to that as he harshly bites down on your heated skin.
“I want you to strip for me, doll,” he commands as his lips enclose around your ear, dragging it through his teeth.
As Bucky steps away from your body, he watches intently as you discard the sundress with shaky hands. He’ll never get tired of seeing your body, so soft and begging to be explored. Your arms fly to your chest to shield it from his heated gaze.
“You’re beautiful,” he rasps out. You feel your face warm at the compliment. You didn’t want this, but you can’t help the way his glances and words make you feel. No man has ever paid you the time of day. There’s a sense of loneliness that has taken over your heart. But, here’s Bucky, saying things you never thought a man like him would speak to you. It’s all so conflicting. Your mind is telling you how this is all so wrong, but he’s filling that lonely void.
He guides you to the king-sized bed that sits against the wall. You try to convince yourself that this will all be over soon, but you have a sinking feeling that this is just the beginning of a long time. You look up at him as he hovers over you, erection pressing firmly against your clothed core.
Nothing is said and nothing can be heard except for your low sobs as he slowly leans down to attach his lips to yours. When he realizes you’re not kissing him back, he pulls away and says, “If you don’t start showing more enthusiasm, I won’t be so nice.”
This time, you entertain the kiss. You really don’t want to experience his bad side if this is him being nice. His tongue finds yours as he licks inside the expanse of your mouth. You’re starting to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen so when he finally parts from your swollen lips, you’re sucking in air rapidly.
Bucky trails his mouth along your neck once more before making his way down your chest, stomach, and thighs. He’s nibbling the soft flesh on the inside of your legs and his scruff is causing a slight burn. Your whines echo throughout the room which causes Bucky to rut against the bed. He’s loving the little noises he’s making slip past that pretty pout.
His hands move to grasp your underwear and suddenly, you're snapped out of the haze of fear, sadness, and...want? You jerk yourself away from his grasp, climbing up the rest against the headboard.
“What did I tell you?” he grits out, but before he can completely lose his temper you tell him in a soft voice, “I’ve never done anything like this...with anyone.”
Oh fuck. You’re a virgin? Bucky didn’t think it was humanly possible to be as turned on as he is right now, but his dick jumping at your words tells him it’s entirely possible. He can feel his heart soften a bit, he wants you to enjoy this, he wants to claim you.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll go slow. Okay?”
You don’t know why you're not putting up more of a fight with him, why you’re falling into his horrid trap with seamless ease. You don’t dwell on it as you slide back down the bed, head falling against the plush pillows and putting your legs on Bucky’s broad shoulders. He pulls your underwear off and he’s met with a sight that’ll be forever burned into his memory.
You’re wet, soaked even and he’s barely even touched you. Oh how he loves virgins. Always so sensitive, so easily attached. He can’t wait to plunge himself into you and see your face contort at the slight pain, to feel your tight walls gripping him, like your cunt is begging him to stay inside you forever.
“Have you ever touched yourself, baby?”
“Mmm,” he hums, “show me what you do.”
Your heart is pounding so hard that you can see your chest move and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears. You’ve never felt this type of embarrassment before. Knowing he won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, you place two fingers on your clit. Why are you this wet? You shouldn’t be turned on by all this and yet, you can practically feel yourself dripping onto the blankets below.
Bucky watches as you rub yourself in slow circles, your folds glistening in the light. He lets out a low groan, “Such a pretty sight. I’m going to help you out a bit, okay?”
Before you can ask him what he’s doing, you feel a finger breach your entrance. He just couldn’t help himself. He needs to feel you in his hands. Your back starts to arch as he pumps his index finger inside you at a languid pace. He’s not even paying attention to your lower half anymore, his sole focus is on your face.
Your eyes are squeezed tight with your brows knitted together. Little squeaks and gasps continuously bounce off the walls. He knows he’ll take you every day, every night. You’re just too addicting, especially since he’s the first to touch you and the only one who will ever touch you.
The pressure in your lower stomach is starting to build at a rapid pace. You feel him add another finger, stretching you out further. A moan gets caught in your throat, your fingers swirl faster against your swollen bud. But Bucky’s pace never slows or gains speed, he’s keeping the stroke of his hand long and drawn out. He’s making you fall apart. He wants to hear you ask for your release.
“Please, need you to move faster,” you gasp.
It’s music to his ears. Your wanton moans and pleas go straight to his aching groin. He knows you're close, he can feel the way your pussy clenches around his digits, he can feel your wetness slide down onto his palm. He has to have a taste, it’s killing him not licking into you.
You feel Bucky’s hand wrap around your wrist and pull your fingers from your clit. You let out a sound of discontent at the lost friction. Before you can beg for him to make you cum and end your misery, his fingers move in and out of you at a harsh cadence as his lips enclose around your bud.
You yelp at the contact. Never could you have imagined something like this. The sweet suction of his mouth has heat forming all across your body. You don’t seem to be in control of your own mind, he’s reduced it to thinking one thing and one thing only. To cum.
You can hear the obscene sounds coming from yourself as Bucky’s fingers slip in and out of you with ease. You grab two fistfuls of his cropped hair and keep his face in place. Bucky doesn’t mind it at all. He wants you to use him because that’s what he’s here for. He’s here for your pleasure and your heart. He wants you to give him everything.
Your hips seem to have a mind of their own as you practically hump his face. You grip his wrist and shove his fingers back inside you each time he tries to remove them. His face is covered in slick as he never lets up on the assault his tongue brings. Your thighs are trembling with each lick and suck.
“Taste so good, doll. Know you wanna cum. Let go for me.” He hums against your wet flesh, sending vibrations along your swollen cunt.
Blinding pleasure takes you over. Your body is suspended in the air as everything pulls taught and your eyes roll in the back of your head. Bucky doesn’t slow, he’s milking your orgasm for all it’s worth. You don’t know how long your body stays frozen, but when your back hits the mattress, you’re spent. It’s like he drained all your energy just from his mouth.
Your eyes shut as you try to even your breathing out. You’re delicate all over, it’s like he knows your body and how to make you feel these sensations. There’s almost too many of them at the same time. Your mind is fuzzy, filled with post-climax bliss.
Suddenly, the rustle of clothing grabs your attention. You open your eyes and look down. There, on his knees looming over you, is Bucky completely bare. He’s a big man, everywhere. You gulp at the sight, fearing he might not fit. You haven’t even taken so much as a finger until he helped himself to you. Even just his fingers were a stretch.
“Bucky, I can’t. I don’t want this. I-” His palm cuts off your rambling as he looms over your spent form.
“I don’t care what you want, baby. You’re here to please your husband. Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he cooes. Without another word, you just nod your head in agreement. He’ll always get his way with you. You know he'll never let you be.
“Now, be a good girl and spread these legs nice and wide for me.”
You try to fight the tears you feel stinging your eyes as you do what he says. He dips his head to spit onto your pussy, rubbing it into your arousal with his cock. It looks almost painful how hard he is, an angry red tint takes over the head, veins appear along the shaft. His tip bumps your clit a few times causing you to jerk up towards the headboard.
“So sensitive,” he smirks. “Virgins always are. I’ll be gentle.”
You just hope he keeps his promise, you really don’t want to be ripped open with no remorse. Bucky lines himself up to your entrance. He starts slowly, sinking into you an inch before stilling and letting you adjust to his girth.
“You’re gonna have to relax, sweetie. You’re so fucking tight,” he grits through clenched teeth.
You feel like heaven to him and he isn’t even half way inside you. He slides in deeper once you’ve loosened a bit. You’re still a snug fit, so snug in fact that Bucky thinks this isn’t going to last as long as he hopes. He can feel the harsh throb of your walls against his shaft. Your arousal coats him completely and he feels some slide down to his balls. It’s nasty, it’s debauched, it’s something he plans to do every day.
He’s fully in you now and the burn isn’t necessarily unpleasant, but it’s not the greatest feeling. You thought your first time would be special, sharing your body with someone you love, with someone who loves you. Not this kidnapper, this borderline monster. At least he’s somewhat caring towards you, trying to make your first time as painless as possible. He has to have good in his heart somewhere. That gives you hope. Hope that he’ll end all of this soon.
Bucky just stares at you while you’re trying to accommodate his member. Taking in each feature you have, making sure to remember every little detail he can. “You’re so gorgeous…” he whispers. You don’t know what happens, but the tears break free and you’re sobbing almost hysterically. Are you crying from pain? Pleasure? Over the fact his words have a warmness erupting in your chest? You don’t know, you don’t think you’ll never really know.
Bucky thinks you cry so beautifully. But he knows you’re in a mental state of pain which causes his heart to twist. You’ll see soon enough he’s not the monster he knows you think he is. He kisses your cheeks, catching the tears that fall from your eyes with his lips. He takes the opportunity to start moving, drawing his hips back slowly before flushing them against yours once more.
“Even more so when you cry.”
His body completely envelopes yours as he strokes inside you. The air leaves your lungs as you feel the drag of his cock. He slips in and out with little to no trouble, more wet noises can be heard throughout the room. The pain is gone now and is replaced by pressure. It sends a heat through your body once more.
Bucky buries his head into your neck as his pace picks up a bit. He places kisses along your throat and you can hear him panting as his release grows closer. Your toes start to curl as his hand finds a breast and starts to tweak your nipple, causing you to arch against him. When he’s taking you apart like this, you’re putty in his hands.
“Know you said you didn’t want this,” he says in between thrusts, “but you’re drenched, your thighs are trembling, and you’re trying to bite back moans...just admit it, baby. You do want this. I can make this body beg for more. My pretty angel, I own you,” he whispers against your ear.
You don’t say anything, just small pants leave your lips. Bucky isn’t looking for a response, he knows his words ring true for you. As he cages you in, his thrusts start to grow sloppy. You’re just so damn tight and soft, it makes him wild. He reaches a hand between your bodies to find your clit.
When you feel his fast circles along your sensitive nerves, you know you’re a goner. You let out a wail as your legs wrap around his waist. Your hands fly to his back, leaving harsh indentions from your nails as you drag them down his toned muscles. Your orgasm is intense, you didn’t know cumming around something could feel so good, it’s like it never ends as white noise fills your ears and your body shakes.
Bucky cums right after you. Your constant clenching and pulsing had him on the edge already, but as soon as your nails dug into his back, he came with a groan that got muffled by your hair. He starts placing tiny kisses all over your face and neck, enjoying the feeling of having you under him.
You two lay like that for a long moment, just trying to gain composure. You feel him soften inside you as his cum starts to leak out from where you’re both still connected. He gently pulls himself out of you and you wince at the loss. You feel so empty and now that your high is starting to wear off, you feel used. More tears start to form.
“Hey,” Bucky calmly says, “you did so good. You’re perfect for me, y/n.”
You bite back your sobs as he removes the soiled blankets and wraps you in a fresh one from the closet. You watch as he dresses himself as if nothing about this is wrong. He comes over to you and places a kiss against your head.
“Get some rest. I’ll be back soon.”
As he makes his way up the stairs, you wait until the door shuts before you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You’re numb. You don’t know what to feel. On one hand, you want to kick, scream, and fight. But on the other, you want him to love you, to not be a captive and instead be with him willingly.
Will you truly ever be free?
The days begin to melt together, unsure if it’s been a week or a month since Bucky took you as his captive. It just makes your heart sick, especially because you know you’ve probably missed your nephew’s 6th birthday. You’ve definitely missed your end of semester exams. You’ve missed so many things.
The space he’s prepared for you is gorgeous and it makes you sick even admitting it. He lets you watch whatever TV programs you want and always offers to pass the time with you in whatever way you’d like. He’s fully stocked a bookshelf with your favorite authors, littered your room with your favorite beeswax candles, and even offers to make you cocktails with that rum you love so much. It becomes very clear very early on that he knows all of these things about you because he’s been stalking you.
But you take no interest in the things that previously brought you joy. Instead, you just spend your afternoons sobbing uncontrollably, something that begins to grate on Bucky’s nerves. He makes sure you spend your evenings on your back, sobbing in a different way.
Yet your resolve hasn’t been entirely shattered. You decide to make a plea to Bucky, hoping to appeal to his emotional side which you know must be buried in there somewhere. As he shuffles down the stairs to bring you your dinner, you make your pitch.
“Bucky I - I am so grateful for this set-up you’ve given me. But I need to go home, I need to get back to my life,” you beg, scanning his face for any inkling of a reaction.
“This is your home, doll. We’ve been over this.” He places the bowl of piping hot soup in front of you, gesturing for you to have a spoonful.
“Buck, please. Please. Your wife wouldn’t want this. You need to let me go.”
He softly wipes the falling tears from under your eyes but his demeanor is anything but soft. “That’s enough, I don’t want to hear you say anything more about this.” His words pack a fierce punch but you know that you have nothing to lose by pushing the issue more. He’s already stolen your innocence. He’s already kept you as his prisoner.
“If your wife could see this, she would be disgusted. Buck, you’re a great guy who misses his wife. But kidnapping me isn’t the answer.”
“Shut your whore fuckin’ mouth! Just shut it!” He spits, shoving you down onto the plush sofa with one brutal push, “I told you to stop but you can’t fucking listen, can you? You’re never going to be anything like her, you’re just pretty enough to keep my cock warm.”
With steadfast precision, he unbuckles his belt with one hand while clenching your throat with the other. In some cruel twist of fate, you’ve got your wish of knowing how it would feel for his hand to be your necklace. You gargle and gasp for air, legs flailing underneath you to try and wriggle free. You’ve never seen Bucky this angry, this vitriolic.
His hand relents on your neck, instead shifting to your cheek with a hard slap, “I was trying to be patient with you sweetheart but now you’ve really pissed me off.”
Unfortunately for you, all that clings to your figure is a skimpy nightgown, allowing him to flip the flimsy fabric up and gain immediate access. Without any care for your comfort, he rams his rock hard cock inside with one brutal thrust.
“God, you’re so much tighter when you’re scared.”
You knew fighting it wouldn’t be of any use, he was so much stronger and his arms had now pinned your delicate wrists above your head. Clenching your eyes shut in an attempt to distract yourself from his vicious assault, this made him even more agitated.
“Wanna see those scared little eyes while I fuck a lesson into you,” he growls, pushing the delicate skin on your eyelids up so they retreat back open.
Unlike every time he’s laid into you since your kidnapping, this time is markedly different. There is no care for your well-being, no regard for your pleasure. You know that this fuck is purely about asserting his power over you. The filthiest words and sounds escape his lips as he pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you.
Every time you think he’s close to coming, he cruelly pulls out to the tip. This pattern happens for the better part of an hour, Bucky wanting to keep your throbbing pussy on edge for as long as possible. He’s absolutely serious about the lesson he’s going to teach.
His nature is now fully animalistic as he snaps all the way up into your cervix. The pain never dulls down, it’s just a consistent searing in your cunt that radiates up to your abdomen. You yip, whine, scream as he bottoms out over and over again. Praying for it to end, you bite down on your bottom lip to deliberately draw blood. Any other sensation of pain is a welcome distraction from what your new husband is drilling into you.
Bucky’s mouth curls into a sadistic smile, dipping down to your bleeding lip and messily smearing the droplets across his thumb, only to ram it into your mouth. The metallic tang meets your tongue abruptly, making you want to gag at the taste.
Your abused cunt instinctively clenches around his cock, praying that if you milk it maybe he’ll lessen the violent tempo. This plan works because his pace begins to falter, his grunts growing closer and closer together as sweat drips from his forehead onto your neck and chest. He rocks into you once more, his throbbing member pumping your womb full of his hot spend.
“Don’t fuckin’ pull this shit again, bitch. Punishing you hurts me more than it hurts you,” he mutters, tucking himself back into his jeans.
He could mark your body, try to destroy what remaining fragments of hope you had left, but you’d never let Bucky break your spirit.
Bucky, did in fact, break your spirit. Turns out, you hadn’t been as strong as you thought, not when every day he kept you full of him, kept you compliant in fear that he’d have another outburst. He’s been persistent, always making sure you’re around him and convincing you that you need him.
As you both lay in your bed, you have your head pressed against his bare chest, mindlessly drawing shapes across his taut skin. He spends the majority of his time down here with you. You’ve come to crave his presence, his touch, the way he makes you fall apart with ease while mindlessly chanting his name. Bucky always tells you how beautiful you are when you come undone for him, when you’re doing something so mundane. You now know he genuinely loves you and that he needs you to be happy. You never want him to be unhappy ever again.
When he isn’t fucking you into the mattress, you both watch tv, play boardgames, bake together. There’s a sense of normality now. It’s like you’re made for him, like all this was supposed to happen to bring your two souls together.
“I’ve been thinking,” his deep voice breaks you from your thoughts, “you’ve been so good for me...I think you deserve a day out. How’s that sound?”
Your heart momentarily stops. A day out? You haven’t been outside in so long, you miss the fresh air, the pretty blue of the sky, the rain on your skin...of course you want a day out. You desperately need it.
You raise up slightly to meet his gaze. “You mean it?”
Your heart flutters as he smiles at you. You love when his eyes crinkle, he’s looked so at peace lately. You trace the lines of his smile and whisper, “You’ll be with me, right?” You can’t imagine being around people without him by your side.
“Each step of the way, doll.”
You kiss him then, deep and loving. It’s not rushed or hasty, it’s perfect. He’s perfect. You pull away and bite your lip. “Can we go now?” you ask. You can’t contain your excitement when the question leaves your lips.
Bucky pretends to ponder before answering, “go get dressed. Make sure to wear a jacket, it’s rainy!” He has to shout the last part because you’ve already sprinted to the closet. He smiles to himself, he loves seeing his doll happy. Happiness is a good look on you. He gets out of bed to go upstairs and dig through his own closet.
After finding warmer clothes, you sit on the little couch in the center of the room and eagerly await for him to come back down to retrieve you. You hear his footsteps descending and rush to the bottom of the staircase.
“I see you’re ready,” he smiles and places his hand in yours.
It feels odd not being in the basement. His home is practically the same as you remember it, all masculine decor and utterly him. You really don’t want to spend the rest of your days locked away in the basement anymore. You want to be equals with Bucky. You want to take part in his everyday life, not the life he’s created for you down there.
“Bucky,” you begin as he looks tentatively at you, “will you ever let me live up here with you?”
He can’t help the smile that breaks across his face. He’s beyond happy to hear that question. Now he fully knows you want him as much as he wants you. He hates keeping you locked up, but it was for your own good. He needed you to see how deep his love runs first.
“If today goes well, I’ll move you in up here tonight.”
You hug him tighter than you ever have before. You can’t wait to be a normal husband and wife and share a house, share hobbies, share his bedroom and every waking moment with him. Bucky has to pry you off him and lead you to the front door. Before you leave though, the pictures that were once hung are no longer. Although there is one photo hanging in a beautifully detailed frame; a picture of you and Bucky, sitting close together on the basement floor and smiling brightly at the camera.
You’re wearing that floral dress, the same one his wife wore in the Paris picture. Your heart flutters and a sense of pride takes over you. He’s not hung up on her anymore. Bucky Barnes is completely and fully yours. With one more look at the photo you grin and turn to follow your husband into the stormy, evening weather.
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