As promised, here are over 40 pictures of the actress Adepero Oduye for edits or moodboards.
I remember reading how some users found making edits with her difficult because they had trouble finding lots of pictures of her. This woman is beautiful and deserves so much more love so if I can help all you editors make more for her, here is my contribution!
(Whether it is her as Sarah Wilson from Marvel, from her role in Monsterland, from her film Pariah, or whatever have you.)
The pictures are under the cut / under the Read More
the gettyimages can be cropped, obviously. ones with blurred things in the background can be edited out with photoshop.
Hi, I’m not back right now, but it was just brought to my attention by my friend that dark!fic writers on here are getting some hate and I just want to say something. Just because you write something doesn’t, mean you are a bad person, just because you read something doesn’t, mean you are a bad person either. So many of the writers who I follow and who follow are some of the most amazing people in real life! I started reading dark!fics as a way to cope with what I went through, it was a form of therapy, was it an ideal way? No, but it helped me, deal with my trauma on my terms and honestly I owe a lot to the dark!fic writers. They did more for me than my first 3 therapist did, after the trauma I went through as a teen. Most stories here on tumblr are tagged with trigger warnings (tw’s:) letting you know what to be aware of helping you avoid a story so you don’t read it! As consumers of fanfiction its up to us to block our triggers, to read the descriptions the writers should be giving us (there are some who do not give descriptions, those stories I don’t even bother to read.) and decide if it’s even worth it. Don’t be attacking writers on tumblr, Wattpad, AO3, FF.net or anywhere you consume your content, telling them to off them self, that in itself is triggering and disgusting behavior.
Hey Writer! Keep writing and being your amazing self because I’m so thankful for you for supplying us readers with content, and writing inspiration!
it’s so wrong (but it feels so right) | summary: where you know it’s wrong, but it feels so right. and so you stop fighting him. ♞ ♡
owie | summary: where you hurt yourself and hide it from your daddies. (stucky x reader) ♡ ✮
ungrateful | summary: where bucky punishes you after another failed escape attempt (sambucky x reader) ♞ ✮ ✧
he’s gone | summary: where steve leaves you for peggy and bucky has to pick up the pieces ✷ ✮
mama loves you | summary: where you spend a lazy day in with bucky (little!bucky x mommy!reader) ♡ ✮
big girls don’t lie | summary: where bucky finds out you haven’t been eating and he’s not happy about it, so he takes matters into his own hands ✷ ✮ ♡
such a good boy | summary: it’s bucky’s first time without you when he’s little. steve looks after him for the day. (little!bucky x mommy!reader) ✷ ✮ ♡
where you’re supposed to be | summary: you’re feeling anxious and bucky has to leave you whilst you’re in your littlespace. crying ensues. ✷ ✮ ♡
their angel | summary: bucky and steve have their sights set on you to be the third element to their relationship. you’re flawless in their eyes. their perfect angel. how long will it take for you to accept them? (3/?) ♞ ✮ ✧
the baron, baroness and their prince | summary: a collection of fics revolving around a relationship between helmut zemo, bucky barnes and you ♡ ❀ ✮
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀
little dove | summary: you’re winter’s little dove. and he’d do anything for you. ❀ ✮
𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘄𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀
only good girls | summary: where you break charles’ most important rule despite knowing better. he does not take it lightly. ✧
Nothing to Despair | 23. Behold my soul's true face
PAIRING: Soft!Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader
SYNOPSIS: Bucky and a girl he never met before have to go undercover as married on a mission to Europe. He feels alienated in the modern world, while she goes through life alone and abandoned. Maybe they can find a new home in each other, but she’s not easily convinced.
CHAPTER NOTES: This chapter has a lot angst. It gets very dark, so if you’re easily depressed, be careful. But we finally learn why the reader has been this way the whole time. And, on a more positive note, SHE SAYS IT 🥰😭
Oh, and if you're confused about the French quote, notes are on AO3 but basically it's from an Edith Piaf song.
WORD COUNT: 6.1k
⸻ [MASTERLIST] [AO3] [TAGLIST]
Because thou hast the power and own'st the grace
To look through and behind this mask of me
(Against which years have beat thus blanchingly
With their rains), and behold my soul's true face.
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnet 39
They were still holding hands as they closed the door in the evening, and before she could go further into the room, Bucky pulled her back for a quick peck on the lips. She smiled and cupped his face, then went to take her clothes off. He started undressing too, slow and distracted by the sight of her. His little wife was more than half done when she noticed him still mostly clothed and biting his lip in his typically suggestive way. In just the lingerie he so enjoyed, she sauntered over, and his hands fell limp with distraction. He'd taken his shirt and shoes off, but not much else.
"Is it worth asking what you want to do this evening?"
"How about we skip everything and go straight to bed, doll?"
"If we go to bed now, we'll just wake up at around midnight."
Bucky hummed and pretended to think, as she unclasped his belt and pulled it out. "That would be horrible. What could we possibly do then?"
She looked up through her lashes as she slowly unbuttoned his trousers and eased them off his hips. "I want you," she said, surprising both of them, then admitted sweetly further, "I want you all the time."
His lips parted in a gasp with a hundred words ready to come out, but none were good enough. He kissed her breathlessly, and as his clothes fell to the floor, Bucky stepped out of them and took her body with him. His hand slipped between her legs to find her feverishly hot and pulsing. She gasped into his chest, he groaned, and with the other hand pulled her closer.
Bucky walked her to an armchair and eased her into it while he carefully took her clothes off too, petting her skin after each clasp was undone and garment slipped off. The light stockings, the garters, the silk and lace top, none of them were so form-fitting that they'd press into her skin. They would hang off her shoulders and the edges of her hips and never left a mark at the end of the day, but he still liked to ease her out of them, gently and with all the attention her skin deserved. She bruised easily, he'd noticed — often because of him, specifically the metal arm, but she didn't seem to mind, even though it drove him mad with worry and shame — so he took care to unwrap her like a gift. Bucky held her thigh in his hands and kissed it, inhaling her skin still warm and smelling distractingly sweet, then her knees, then all along her waist, and up each shoulder, up the neck, the jaw, and finally to the reward of her lips.
By the time he was done, her eyes were glassy and her breath shallow, breasts blushing at the tips, just barely touched but much admired and teased through glances, and yearning for affection. With him still kneeling in front of her, she slipped off the armchair and straight into his arms, her legs resting on either side of him on the floor, and loosely hugged his neck. Bucky wrapped his arms around her and swung them together, slowly, side to side. His hard hot member brushed against her stomach, but suddenly it didn't matter. The girl kissed his neck and he heard her breathe in, as drunk on him as he was on her and feeling happy, safe, at home. He kept them like that, his flesh hand petting her hair along her back and her swinging in his arms, until he felt something in her shift with a sudden thought.
"Darling?" she whispered, her grip still around him, chin resting on his shoulder.
"I've been thinking… Do you really want, you know, with me, or…?"
Bucky pulled back enough to look at her. "You're going to have to be more specific than that, doll."
She bit her lip tightly as she searched his face, his smile a bit tensed with worry but grey eyes still soft. "Do you really want us to have a baby?"
"Not just one," he smiled, shaking his head slowly. "At least five," and he saw the dawning realisation on her face. "Come on, let's not talk about this on the floor." Before she could say anything else he lifted her, her legs hanging off his metal arm and her hands holding on to his neck as he carried her to bed. He laid her down carefully and curled up beside her, covering them both with the sheets.
"So you remember?" she asked once he'd settled in. Even she had almost forgotten about that conversation, so it was a surprise to be reminded of it by him.
"You say you can't figure out how to be happy, but you knew, sweetheart. I thought about it too, and you were right," he sighed happily, caressing her temple and brushing her hair behind her ear. "You're always right, you're so clever, darling."
"It would be perfect. You won't think these thoughts that upset you anymore, and you won't have to worry about a thing, because I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything."
"But what if it doesn't work?" she asked with slight panic.
"It's worked for thousands of women before, doll, why wouldn't it work for you?" He was thinking of his mother but not just, and in that moment he only realised, once more, how right she'd been. Worrying came easily to her, and the solution she'd found for it was good in every way, but now that he was the one to bring it up, she doubted.
"No, it's going to end up horribly, and then you'll hate me…" she muttered, more to herself but loud enough for him to hear.
Bucky pulled himself closer to her on the bed and clasped her jaw, tilted her sad face up to look at him. "It's going to be fine. Have some confidence in me, that I'm going to make it fine even when it isn't."
"It won't last… I'll be a burden."
For a second, Bucky wondered if she was really talking about herself or about him, deep down. It's not like he wasn't familiar with feeling like a burden too, like he wasn't worth the effort to dig him out of his misfortunes, and all his past and present woes seemed to hang as heavy as the earth. They were alike in so many ways, but the sweetest ones were the things that made them both unhappy — the rarest, the most difficult, the pinpoints of why they were the way they were and how they got that way. And yet, he was afraid to tell her that that was part of why he loved her. He didn't want her to see him half as badly as she saw herself, or have her pity, or see her feeling sorry for him.
"I don't mind. I can take it," he said instead, keeping his hand firm and heavy on her jaw, reminding her that he was there, stubborn and relentless. There was no point pretending it would be easy, she'd spot his lies in a second, but he didn't need to lie about this. "Nothing's easy all the time, but you're worth the work it takes," said Bucky, and finally she looked at him. Her jaw was clenched, lips pressed together tightly. He could only guess at all the things she was holding in, and though he felt so much slip away from him and he wanted to unclasp her again, he held her as she was — timid and hidden and hard as marble. "You're worth the work it takes to love you."
It hurt her a little to hear the admission that it was some work at all, but his honesty helped wash it away. It still made her brace herself to hear it, made her want to harden up against it and pull away, or push him off somehow. He might not understand it very well, but she could tell he saw it, and whether it hurt his feelings or not, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
"Well, it takes no work for me," she smiled, trying out how it felt to admit it. Bucky grasped her meaning instantly and froze. Only his mouth moved, to smile, slowly and hopefully as he searched her eyes. Her hand came up to caress his cheek as she smiled back. With some stuttering and a mountain of fear, she eased it out through her lips. "I love you, too."
No amount of kisses would have felt enough to him, so instead he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close, cradling her to his heart as her fingers threaded around the back of his head. "You really do?" he asked as he rested his cheek on top of her head.
"I do. It's just hard for me to say… to hear it."
"Can you say it again?" asked Bucky, instantly a bit regretful of how selfish he was, but more greedy now than ever.
His wife smiled and slinked her way up his body, held his head still in her hands, mouthed right against his lips "I love you," and ended it with a chain of kisses. They parted with a sigh and she said it again, imperceptibly quiet but letting him feel every word move against him, "I love you." Bucky rolled onto his back with her still kissing him, his arms tight around her. She smiled into the kisses and kept her eyes closed, enjoying the proof of the feelings she gave him. When she raised herself from him, just barely, she hummed with satisfaction at seeing him all ruffled and flushed, lips even more full and pink than usual, his eyes crinkled happily.
"I'm so sorry, doll… I feel like the lowest bastard on earth when I pressure you like this."
"Bucky, no…" she said lowering her hands to cup his cheeks, trying to brush the care away from his brow with her thumbs.
"I know I don't make a very good husband for you," he admitted. She stayed quiet and listened to him, finally hearing what had been worrying him for days, weeks, when he tossed and turned and couldn't sleep. "I guess I made a picture in my head of what you're like, and I keep looking for it, but I never stop to think about what you want, or how much you want to give. Too greedy," he grinned half-heartedly.
"I suppose that's partly my fault…"
"Maybe I led you on sometimes. I just wanted you to like me," she shrugged.
He held her by the shoulder and raised himself a bit. Leaning back against the pillows, he pulled her to rest against his chest and pet her cheek, making her look at him. Her leg curled around him beneath the sheets and his knee bent to make room for her, comfortable and uncaring of his arousal, seeking only to be closer. "Well, you know I like you now," he said with a soft smile.
"It's not that simple," she winced, and slowly caressed his neck as she thought of what to say. "I hate it, because I think that you don't mean it. I hear something nice, and immediately I feel like you're just saying that to get what you want. That you're lying deliberately, and then I just get angry."
"But I do mean it, I mean it every time."
"Prove it," she said, and all he could do was stare mutely back. "When you say you feel something, take the feeling out and show it to me. You can't." Slowly, he began to understand. "That's why I can't stand hearing it. All I have is what's in my head, and what's in my head is always against me."
Bucky rested his hand on the back of her head while she cuddled into him. The thoughts were still running through her mind, but she couldn't put it more clearly than that, and now he was thinking too. Her words shaped a lens for him to look through.
"Don't mean to diminish what you just told me, doll, but I can relate."
"How do you mean?" she quietly asked.
"What you said about your head being against you…"
"Oh. I know what happened to you is much more serious, I didn't mean it like that, but…"
"No, it's fine," he kissed the top of her head. "You always surprise me, you know that? You'd say something and it reminds me of things I thought… maybe five months ago. Or you put into words something I remember feeling, but never noticed until you said it." She looked up at him and tilted her head curiously. "Maybe that doesn't make much sense. Forget it."
"No, I understand. I know what it's like."
She bit her lip and nodded, but behind it was measuring her words. "I want to go wash up before bed…"
"No, tell me first," Bucky insisted, smiling to encourage her. "You've got me curious now."
"You might not like what you hear," she smirked.
She worried at her lip for a while, before she slowly started. "I know what you're referring to. It's very difficult to describe, it's a very specific feeling…"
"I've experienced it too, sometimes, from things you've said. But mostly… You remember Professor Althaus?" Bucky immediately groaned, and she laughed. "I felt that a lot because of him. The things he said, the way he said them. They addressed so precisely what I thought, or felt."
"Should've killed him when I had the chance," he muttered. Her hot palm settled on his chest and she waited for him to relax beneath her again. He stared down at the girl and clenched his jaw, but something in the way she looked at him gave him pause.
"I was quite pathetic before I met him," she began. "He said things I needed to hear. He gave me courage. I wish you could have met him too, he's so —"
"He manipulated you, doll."
"He tricked you into joining that cult of murderers."
"You won't speak badly of him," she insisted, raising herself half-way up. "He did more good for me than you can ever know."
Bucky clearly had much more to say, but bit his tongue and glowered in silence. His young wife sat up next to him against the pillows and, throwing her legs across his, curled up against him in that way, head resting on his shoulder.
"I know you're all upset and pouty —"
"I am not pouty."
"— but you didn't know me. You don't know what I was like."
He thought back to his days then, when he was still the Winter Soldier and there was no trace of Bucky. He was a mindless servant, an assassin, a weapon aimed and fired on Hydra's targets. Some of them deserved it, some of them didn't. It was for the best that the Soldier hadn't met her then.
"The Professor… he would fire up inside you that which was neglected, which was at the core. Which gave meaning. Which gave life." She cuddled closer, and he turned to look at her. Her eyes were looking forward, thinking back. "Before I met him, I felt like there was no point to anything. I was homesick and I hated everything around me, and all the people too. I couldn't stand to see them, or hear them, and it seemed I would be stuck there forever. I felt so… so…"
"Yes. You do understand, don't you?"
"Of course I do, sweetheart," he sighed and brought her hand up to kiss it.
"I had nothing to look forward to, except growing old and sick, and dying alone. I resented my parents for making me. I didn't want to die, not necessarily. I just wanted… like you that one time: to not exist." He covered her hand with his, clasping it in both flesh and metal, but her fingers had gone limp. "I knew mother would be upset if I did something stupid, but sometimes I felt really, really desperate. There was this river that ran through town and —"
"Ok, don't say any more," said Bucky before thinking, but she didn't seem offended, and continued with the same calm.
"But then, some friends and I went to listen to the Professor give a lecture at his house," she said with a tilted smile. "All of us were a bit eccentric, or a bit crazy. All of us unhappy. He picked us up, out of that puddle, and got us to look upwards if only momentarily. He gave us a feeling of hope, of courage, of utter ruthlessness. I'd never heard anyone talk like that — especially not to me, as a girl. He got us to see the truth… about life."
"Yeah, and what's that?" he asked, looking at her a bit askance.
"That the highest expression of nature is human thought. Which means that we have to take that which makes us unhappy, that we feel uncomfortable with, and however… stunted we've been by life, to change it, to turn it around on itself. To step over everything that is beneath us. Above all, to avoid resentment and self-pity."
She was completely distracted from him, lost in her recollection. Bucky wasn't sure what to think of this Professor anymore, but if he was half as charismatic as she made him out to be, he was a dangerous agent. He was grateful he'd never met the man, especially in those times when he had needed to hear things like that, and he was twice as happy that Steve never did. That speech seemed tailor-made for his friend's sense of courage, and distantly Bucky wondered — with a great deal of amusement — why he seemed to surround himself with mad little spitfires like her and Steve.
"I can't describe what it felt like. I can't do it justice. You know how rare and strange it is when you experience that feeling with me: imagine that for a full hour, every week. So, you see…" she ended, looking down at their shared hands, hers weak with emotion, and measuring her words, finished "I'm glad you didn't complete your mission."
That looming realisation struck, and Bucky didn't know what to say anymore. If he had killed Althaus, she might have gone and done something stupid… but she never would have worked for Hydra. Which meant he never would have met her, never would have come to love her, never would have married her and been on the way to starting a family with her. All because of one missed shot. He couldn't help but think about the odds of it and what, if anything, it meant.
"You didn't join Hydra because you had money problems," he said after a brief silence.
"No," she answered resolutely. "Mother did need the money, but I joined because the Professor wanted me to. I would have done anything for him. Anything." What she left unsaid was that, she still would. "And I'm not sorry." She looked up at him with no hatred or resentment, but no hint of giving ground either.
"Is that why you hated me?" he asked as an afterthought. "Because I nearly killed your mentor?"
"No," she said, a bit surprised. "No, I knew it wasn't your fault. I never blamed you."
"Then why… why did…"
"Why was I so difficult?" she finished for him with a smirk. "I'm like that with everyone, I told you."
"It didn't feel like you didn't hate me, most of the time," he pointed out. "And that doesn't exactly answer my question." She turned her gaze away to look back down at their hands, at the bed, at anything but him. "I pulled out all the stops to make you like me," he continued, unrelenting. "I listened to you mope about other stupid guys, I got you flowers, I took you dancing, I got you everything you wanted, and I know it's not about that, but you must've known I wanted you… You can't pretend you didn't know."
"It's not as easy as you think."
"What then, you think I'm not capable of lovin'?"
"I'm sure you are," she said, without sounding particularly convinced.
"Do you think you don't deserve it, then? Is that it?"
"I… guess I never thought of it that way. I don't know."
"You don— ? Good grief, doll," he shook his head. "Do you doubt your mother loves you too?"
"No, I know she does," she muttered.
"And why can't you believe it when it comes from me?"
"Mothers have to love their children. But men don't really care for women, especially as we get older," she said with a tilted smile as she looked up through her lashes. "You'll get bored of me, eventually."
His every instinct told him to kiss that dark certainty away, and a deeper part of him wanted to slap her for saying it. But through all of it, Bucky held himself back and kept her talking, now that he'd just cracked her open. "It wasn't a lousy boyfriend that got you to think like this," his mouth asked without him. His question shocked her too, and she stilled beside him.
"I told you it wasn't."
"Was it your dad?" he asked, and when she wouldn't answer, he pressed her on. "It was, wasn't it?" She didn't move, but through the skin pressed to his side, he felt her body chill, hands and feet tight and tense and damp with cold sweat.
"I caught him once, with a woman," the girl finally said. "I must have been about 8, and I was very stupid and told mother about it. Or, maybe not stupid…" Bucky's hand tightened around her shoulder as he watched her remember, more sorry than ever that he'd asked about it, and amazed she was telling him at all. "I'd never seen her cry before. She looked so heartbroken I was afraid she'd die, and it was because of me. She didn't want to deal with it, so she left father and he kept the house for a while — moved to Vaduz with another of his whores eventually, but he lives there alone now. They all left him. We went first to some cousins abroad, and eventually mother found work in Switzerland," she sighed. "But she was so busy all the time, and always tired, always tired… She worked such long hours, I remember, and had to take care of me too. And she got so mad at me sometimes, when I didn't get good grades or didn't finish dinner or didn't go to sleep on time. I guess she was just stressed, but back then I was afraid she'd give me away to these horrible neighbours we had. She joked about it sometimes, when I was being bad…"
He tried not to interrupt her with any of his useless noises, but had to heave a sigh at that. Another tragedy in one long link, and from it he could trace so many of her mannerisms, all the withdrawal he faced from her — not from hatred, he saw now, but from that primitive fear of abandon. And distinctly he remembered that horrible evening when she saw him with Dolores — saw 'Marsden', really — and how sad and scared she looked, how small, as if a child again. No wonder she couldn't stand to look at him for hours afterwards…
"Instead, she sent me off to school in England. I was 12 by then. A weird girl from nowhere, with a funny accent, who hadn't made a friend in years. I had no idea how to be around them, I couldn't relate to any of those people." And he filled in the rest: she still couldn't.
How would he have turned out in her place? Bucky didn't even want to think about it. Without someone like Steve to link his old life back to, he might still belong to Hydra — like she did. More than ever before, he wanted to be a way out for her, to be all the loves and friendships that passed her by, to be everything for her. But, as if she read his mind, she added in a guilty whisper:
"So it's really not that there's something wrong with you. But if my own parent cared more about other women than he did for me and mother, to expect a stranger to be faithful seems… stupid, to me. And if it could happen to my mother, who is so much better than me, why wouldn't it happen to me too, you know? You understand, don't you?"
Bucky sighed and held her closer, but could not unclench his jaw. He did and didn't understand. It wasn't stupid to trust him, and he wasn't a stranger to her anymore, he was better than that, better than anyone she'd ever met. He sunk down into the sheets with her and held the girl to his chest, resting his cheek on the top of her head while his hand caressed her back. She felt raw and nervous and ready to run, but the worst of it was over, and though her eyes were dry, he could feel the quick sharp breaths that fanned across his skin. His hand came up to cradle her soft head and he whispered in her hair a promise.
"You won't have to worry about a thing, doll."
"That's what everyone says," she mumbled. "But you don't know how you'll feel in 5 years, in 10 years…"
"So what's your solution?" he gently asked.
"My solution was to be alone, but you took care of that," she quipped.
Bucky paused to think about what he wanted to suggest, to give himself some time to change his mind, but he felt all aflame at the thought of giving that to her and it felt, more than anything else, right.
"Tomorrow morning we're going to wake up, and go have breakfast, maybe have a walk outside if the weather's nice… And then we'll come back here, and I'm going to give you the words."
"I don't know how I'll teach you to say then, but we'll figure it out."
"Bucky, I can't do that," she said, bracing herself against him to look into his face.
"You want to trust me, and I want you to trust me too."
"But it isn't right, it isn't fair to you," she shook her head. "You'll be so sorry one day, please don't do it…"
He caressed her cheek through the dark and pulled her back against him calmly. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."
She finished getting dressed while Bucky was still showering. There was an air of anxiety around the whole morning after what he told her the night before, but he seemed happy when they woke up together, and was very slow and gentle with his kisses while they were still in bed. The girl moved more slowly now, putting on some finishing touches in front of the mirror, a bit of makeup, a bit of perfume, even that necklace that he liked so much. She was just fixing up her hair when Bucky came out, half-dressed in just his shirt and trousers. His wife smiled at him from her seat, but she didn't even try to hide her tension. He leaned against the doorframe to watch her, arms crossed to hold himself back, looking as smug and satisfied as he usually did when he saw again the proof that she was his.
"We'll go out for breakfast now?" she asked.
"There's just one thing," he started, looking down in thought. "It's kind of stupid, but I thought we should —"
"It's not stupid," she said, turning in her seat to face him. "Tell me."
Bucky stayed where he was and shifted on his feet, his arms around him now a bit more tight, shirt straining around him with a few deep breaths. "I just need to know you won't be in touch with Hydra anymore. I mean I know you won't, but it's… it would make me feel better if you said it."
She looked down to her lap once but it didn't take a second for her to think it through. "I promise I won't, not without your permission," she nodded as she looked into his eyes.
Her addition surprised him a bit, but he was satisfied and even, oddly, pleased. She'd thought through all eventualities, even if they needed to use some old contacts she had — not that Bucky would ever agree to it, but he was proud that his girl thought of everything. He went to her and half-kneeled in front of her primly sitting form, and took her hands in his, flesh and metal both.
"That's all I needed to hear," he smiled, making her smile too and breathe a sigh of relief. "You won't need them for anything anymore. Not Hydra, not that Althaus…"
She nodded quietly as she searched his eyes, her shoulders slightly tense with unshed guilt. "Don't get me wrong, I still don't like SHIELD…"
"I know," he chuckled. "I can't exactly blame you."
"And I can't betray those people who've helped me in the past, however flawed or evil. Like I wouldn't do it to you, either."
He nodded more quietly, unhappy but, in spite of himself, understanding. "I know…"
Her hand tightened around his flesh one, and she brought it up to give him one warm kiss of gratitude. "Thank you, sweetheart. I knew you'd understand. They just… provided me with strength and comfort when I really needed it."
"But from now on, you'll get comfort from me. Won't you?" he rasped, his cold eyes focused on her as he let their joined hands fall back together on her lap.
"I guess it's just enough that you love me no matter what I think or do. Don't you?"
"Don't care if I end up regretting it, but I do," Bucky grinned.
She did what she usually did when she was afraid of smiling too widely, she bit her lower lip so tight it trembled, but her face was brighter and more vulnerable than he had ever seen. In a heartbeat, she slipped off the chair and kneeled on the floor right alongside him, wrapping her arms around his neck as they swung together in a tight embrace.
"You make me so happy," she whispered, and if it wasn't right by his ear, Bucky would not have even caught it. "I am so grateful for you. And I'm sorry for everything I've done, but —"
"None of that," he said and kissed her cheek. "If anything were different, anything at all…"
"You're right," she whispered back as his words sank in. "It's better like this. I regret nothing."
"That's my best girl," he grinned.
She nuzzled his neck and comforted herself with the clean scent of him, fingers threading through his still damp hair without a thought, and giggled as she remembered one old song that fit. "Ni le bien, ni le mal."
"My little legionnaire," Bucky chuckled, recognising it from those history lessons Steve had him take.
She pulled back to brush her lips to his and teased him. "At least it's a step up from 'sausage'."
They had the warmest, softest, richest breakfast together, with fresh pastries and coffee and cream. They topped it off with cupcakes, and were not too shy to share them with each other, with Bucky gripping her wrist when she brought it to his lips and holding her still until he was done licking her fingers. The weather was nice that day, so they did take a walk, keeping far from the pools and outdoor bars and clinging to each other, stopping now and then for a brief kiss when the mood struck them. They found a row of seats to lounge on and sat in one together, his wife sitting in his lap with her fingers brushing his hair ruffled from the currents, while Bucky held her other hand and kissed it, paying special attention to the wedding ring.
"You know, I like that you're so pretty," she said at one point. She looked at his profile with a smug little smile as he looked into the calm horizon.
"Oh really?" he chuckled and turned to her with surprise.
She hummed and nodded, tracing the line of his full lips with her finger. "I wouldn't mind it if you weren't, but it makes me even more proud that you're mine."
His eyes twinkled as he pressed his lips into a kiss before her finger moved away. "Think we'd make pretty babies?" he husked with a smirk.
"Absolutely." She wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head on top of his while he held her by the waist, his nose nudging her neck now and then when he left kisses on the exposed top of her collarbone. "Can I tell you something?" she asked after a while, with somewhat girlish cheer, as if remembering something.
"Of course, doll."
"In all our fairy-tales, in all the folklore, there's this idea that beauty chases demons away. It's why it's so important for us that buildings are nice, that streets are nice, and clothes, and people, and sights, and sounds — not just music, but simple things too, like bell chimes or laughter."
"That's not very fair though, people grow old and ugly," he chuckled. "You don't think old people are evil, do ya?"
"No, of course not. That's why you try to be pretty when you're young. Because by the time you're old, you've chased the devils away. You see?"
"Clever," Bucky laughed. "And what about evil pretty people?"
"It's not enough to look it, of course," she hummed as she remembered more. "We have fairy tales about that, too. How you speak can be ugly, what you do to others can be ugly. What you do with yourself can be ugly."
He kissed his way from her clavicle up her neck and ended at her cheek. "And how does my pretty girl square that with how naughty she's been?" he asked in a heated whisper.
She knew he wasn't playing, she could tell he meant her work for Hydra, even through the covering of sweet and gentle kisses — his attempt to make her know he loved her still. "I don't know what you mean, Sarge," the girl purred with a stretch that didn't even try to mask her rubbing up against him, as she slipped her hands around his shoulders.
"What do you mean 'what do I mean'? Look at you, you're being naughty right now," he smirked, then moaned and gripped her waist to still her when it got to be too much. "Don't do this to me in public, doll," he growled. It also hadn't escaped him that this was the first time she used his rank.
"You think…" she whispered in a tone of fake surprise, leaning closer while she pressed down on his lap, "that I've been bad?"
"Oh I know you have been," he husked against her mouth, their lips barely touching. "They're bad people, I don't care what you say," though at that point he didn't seem to have any place left in him for hatred. "They didn't deserve you, babydoll. Pure evil's what they are, always have been."
"I don't accept that at all," she said, tilting her head teasingly and swinging her legs in a way that made him groan with pleasure. "You know, where I come from we don't have a concept of pure evil. There's only of pure good."
"Mhmm" his wife murmured before rewarding him with a kiss. "And in a world where pure good exists, there can be no pure evil. None of the imps and devils are as bad as the fairy-tale hero first fears."
"You think that's true?" asked Bucky, between a few more stolen kisses.
"Yes I do." She pet the back of his head while she got lost in the sky-grey of his eyes, then added, giggling, "My knight in shining arm."
"And what are you? My mighty steed?" he smirked.
His wife gasped and pulled away but couldn't wipe off a traitorous grin. Showing no regret at all, Bucky laughed and added as an afterthought:
"I do love riding you."
She smacked him on the shoulder lightly, and her cheeks hurt from trying so hard not to laugh with him.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of violence, language, smut, stalking and scenting.
Stalker Dark! Omega Reader x Alpha! Bucky Barnes
Previous: One, Two
gif by @romancegifs
Summary | A shy but obsessive and dangerous Omega sets her sights on the perfect Alpha - Bucky Barnes - who has a little darkness of his own.
Catherine sits within your sights, her flirty laughter and hands all over Bucky while you take a long sip of your drink at the bar, his favorite carved knife between your fingers as you play with it.
Laura got off easy. A fractured leg and a few broken ribs. Probably surgery for her nose, depending on what the doctors day, Mr. Dennison had rattled off in front of you while you looked on in shock.
What a shame, you think.
You could have planned it better.
But for now, your attention settles on them both, Bucky’s hand cupping her cheek while he kisses her. Tossing back the last of your drink, you slip off the chair, tossing a hefty trip on the table before you leave. There’s preparation to be had and a knife to return.
You won’t be needing it after all.
Catherine keens loudly, her fingers twisting the sheets while her forehead drags against the bed with every forceful thrust, Bucky’s grip on her hips a careful mix of possessive and painful. Cock drunk, her mewls ground in your ear as you watch from afar, the small camera giving you perfect angles of her arched back, her trembling thighs painted with slick and the bare of his teeth when he presses in deeper.
“Yes, please Alpha,” Catherine whimpers loudly, panting as you tilt your head to examine a tattoo on her ankle. “G-God, yes.”
You’ve heard enough of her warbling, muting it while the fan oscillates toward you, cooling the back of your neck as you sit, legs propped up on your desk, clad in a pair of brand new black underwear as you paint your nails.
But you stop, mid drag of the brush when he straightens, looking at the knife you’ve left behind, his eyes narrowing while Catherine looks behind her in surprise. You unmute to see him pull out of her, reaching over to inspect the weapon while she scrambles to cover herself.
Modesty is laughable, you think. It’s a poor show when you edit the video to remove him and send it to her. She’s not quite as forward as Laura and so you’ll do a little blackmail to have her keep her distance. You’ll destroy it of course. Just enough for her to know that the tattoo she’s displaying could make her do enough mental gymnastics that it would be worth it to tease.
“Should I go?” Catherine asks quietly, still watching as he inhales the blunt end of the knife, his eyes going half-mast while you nod.
Good. He needs to know your scent.
You return to painting your nails, watching Catherine grab her clothes as he sits back on his knees, looking around and up at the walls.
For a split second, your heart skips a beat when he looks directly into the camera. You lean forward, his expression hardening. In his fingers, the knife is in position and without warning, still looking at the lens, the knife is flicked forward as his bicep flexes, cutting out one of the feeds.
It took him longer than you expected but it’s how he dismantled it that makes you wonder just how wild James Buchanan Barnes is under that steely exterior. He certainly wasn’t as rough as you thought with Catherine and for that, you wonder if he’s holding back.
“Well played, Mr. Barnes,” you say to yourself, moving through the other cameras. He’s only been able to catch one and for now, that’s enough excitement for the night. There’s editing to complete and a threatening note to begin to write.
“Slow down,” Bucky instructs, pushing open the glass doors as Catherine blubbers on the other end. “Start over.”
“I,” Catherine inhales shakily. “I can’t see you anymore. I’m sorry, Bucky. I thought I could handle it but I can’t.”
“Can’t handle what? It was two dates,” he reminds her, unsure of why she’s panicking. “We can end it, that’s fine. But I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Whatever kink you have. You-you can’t do that.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
He stops, letting the door shut behind him while he steps off to the side. He can hear her hard breaths on the other end.
“There’s a tape of me from your house. I didn’t know you filmed us. I could go to the cops, you know!”
“I didn’t film you,” he seethes in a hushed whisper.
“A video arrived on my doorstep and it’s filmed inside you bedroom.”
His gaze darkens at her admission.
“I didn’t do that,” he tells her, looking up at the ceiling for patience so he doesn’t shout. “But I have an idea who did.”
“Then you need to go to the cops. This isn’t funny. This is my life. I can’t have some altered sex tape ruin it.”
“Keep it,” Bucky instructs her. “Call the cops, you can use it for evidence. But I assure you, it wasn’t me.”
“The letter said to destroy it.”
The hair on the back of his neck stands up as Catherine seems surprised.
“W-Wait,” she sobs. “You didn’t really know?”
“I told you I didn’t. I’m not a fuckin’ creep who films women without their consent. Go to the cops. I’ll see what I can find on my end.”
“Okay. I’ll… I’ll keep you posted.”
You watch as he shoves his phone in his pocket, sitting at your desk as he heads back outside.
If he’s looking for the cameras, he won’t find them. You made sure to remove them for the time being after he left for work, giving your boss the excuse that you had overslept. It’s out of the ordinary for you and he sympathizes, giving you a pep talk that it happens to the best of those who work hard.
A saved up excuse that works in your favor.
But as he leaves, he turns for a moment, his head inching up as he inhales before he locks eyes with you for a few seconds before he blinks, pushing the glass doors open before disappearing.
Bucky strolls through the hallway of an apartment, picking up on the random scents. Mostly Betas on the this floor but he knows deep down he’s getting closer. He scented it again when he first pushed through the doors, unsure of where it was coming from. Sweet, almost enough to make his mouth water as his teeth ached at the thought of sinking down into whatever gland he could find of the person who the scent was coming from.
It was someone at work. He knows that know, his eyes roaming over every employee that crossed his path before he left for the day. Catherine had destroyed the tape one he reached her house, her defiance irritating as the police said that there was nothing they could do without evidence.
He’d wasted his time and Fury would not be pleased with his late reports. It was a minor inconvenience at the moment but one that he knows could have been handled better had the Omega just listened to him. He understands her fear and her worry but now there is nothing left and she’ll continue to be paranoid of another tape surfacing somewhere.
Bucky stops in his tracks when the scent hits him again, the welcome mat pristine, as if no one has ever set foot on it before. He wants to knock, to see the face of the person who has been bold enough to enter his home, to steal from him and film him.
The carved knife is still strapped to his thigh as he hesitates for a moment. With no one around, he rubs his wrists together quickly, pheromones heightening with every movement before he slams his hands on the door, letting his wrists settle for a moment before he places his hand over the doorknob giving it a quick twist before he lets it go.
Marking his territory to come back later.
If his hunting abilities have taught him anything, it’s that they’ll soon have his scent on them.
Summary: Out in the cold dark wilderness of the Gates of the Arctic National Park, you spend your days documenting the ever increasing footprint of man on the natural world. And it is man who will be your greatest downfall in the form of the unfairly handsome lumberjack who stalks his prey… you.
Warnings: yandere Bucky, breeding kink, smut, dub con, alcohol, stalking, dark fic, sex pollen. This is a dark fic so please use caution. 18+ only.
Notes: This is a preview so ALL the mistakes are my own. Five generations and much revamping later, my lumberjack porn fantasy is finally happening.
The heavy and foreboding footfalls behind you are close, but the distance has remained the same. A part of you questions whether your stalker friend is actually a bear, however, you just don’t fuck with black bears. You force your exhausted and frozen legs to move up the hill, the distant light of Bucky’s campsite not far ahead. You’ve never been so relieved to see that asshole’s tent and fire.
That sexy, ripped, beautiful lumberjack…
Your heart lurches and the squeal from your mouth resembles more of a pterodactyl than a song sparrow as a large twig snaps too close for comfort and you will your stone-cold legs to move faster. The camera nearly flies from your grip as you narrowly miss a large fallen quaking aspen.
You are not about to die six hundred measly feet from safety so you do the best thing you can think of: you scream.
The screeching echoes through the ravine, you hope that the effect does something to deter the ravenous bear, despite how ridiculous you must look and sound right about now.
There’s a distinct scent to balsam poplar that is sweet and heady, it lingers on the air long after the final embers have extinguished. The aroma is heavy in the air as you finally come closer to the campsite. The area is quiet and Bucky is nowhere in sight, but you hold out hope for the tent.
Over the fire you spy a pot boiling, a heavy spice filling the air as you launch yourself into the large tent. Empty.
“Fucking Barnes,” you screech, throwing your laptop and camera down onto what you open is a soft sleeping bag that is not filled with rocks, and arm yourself with the closest weapon you can find: an axe.
In the safety of the tent, you finally have a moment to recognise the rapid beating of your heart. It’s painful; your chest cavity heaving savagely and greedily as you breathe. It makes you feel woozy.
And then you freeze; outside, on the other side of the tent with NO discernable protection, a HUGE form looms. The shadow circles the tent, hunched and breathing heavily.
You are going to die and it is going to be James Buchanan fucking Barnes’ fault.
In a weird mix of preparing to perish at the jaws of a big black beast or die trying to fight your way out of this - somehow - with one deep breath, you raise the axe and with a brave scream, you run out of the tent at the beast…
When this is the summary for ‘Blood must have blood’:
Reader/Jess Harper has already survived abuse and sexual assault by stepbrother Nate Millers, but the reward was a prison sentence for murder at Litchfield penitentiary…
What happens when you/Jess comes face to face with Nate’s old colleagues and friends, Correctional Officers Steve Rogers and James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, who both seem set on making you pay for your mistakes. Will you be able to survive it all over again?
And this is what @pan-dulce-por-favor does for a trailer...? Is it bad that I’m laughing my ass off over here? #sorryJess
Summary: the Winter Soldier finds something interesting in you, and so he decides to take you away and spare your life. On the other hand, you hoped to die.
Warnings: implied future non con, non con touching, anxiety, kidnapping. Only +18, no minors are allowed to read. If you do not feel safe with these warnings, please do not read. Every comment, reblog, like or ask is fully appreciated. <3
Masterlist | Dark!Bucky Barnes New Dark Fiction
"What are you doing?" you asked terrified, observing the figure that loomed more and more on yours. You had your wrists tied behind your back and awakened in a place you didn't know, with a plain dirty floor and an old mattress in the center of the room you were currently crawling on.
You remembered your place of business again hours before: you weren't an important member of that organization, and that probably saved your life. But now, you'd rather be dead like all those the winter soldier killed in front of you. You desperately looked into his icy eyes, looking for any sign of compassion or pity, but there was nothing. There was only that indecipherable look, different from that murderous and calculating look he wore in that building, now destroyed by what would surely pass as an accidentally caused fire.
And you would have been considered dead in that fire, you knew that. You felt the anxiety devour you from within and you thought your heart would explode at moments from how hard it was beating. You kept sobbing and your body was shaking violently, and the tears just didn't stop. You opened your mouth to scream as you saw the soldier, still soaked in the blood of those men, lower to your level. He was still holding that damn mask up and showing you only his long wavy hair and those eyes of his. You refused to observe it, you could not, the terror paralyzed you on the spot.
He did not like it. You felt an iron grip in your hair that made you scream in pain as he forced you to look up. With his other hand, however, he took off that mask. You couldn't help but beg for mercy when you saw a small smile adorn his face. He looked soft and sweet, but you knew it better: you had heard the bones of those men crack from his vibrating arm and all those shots. You felt them, they were in your head.
"I won't hurt you." he muttered softly, and sounded fucking crazy. You thought he really lost it. You tried to catch your breath as he, to your surprise, he began to free your aching and certainly bruised wrists from the tight rope. You sniffed at him, scrutinizing his face carefully. Then, you tried to get away from too much proximity. You had it a few millimeters from your face and it was too close.
That little smile disappeared in a short time, and instead of him continuing to advance towards you, he decided to hold you under his weight and force you to lie down. He gave a satisfied sigh and a small moan as he felt your breasts meet his still covered chest. At that moment you desperately began to struggle, trying to push him away and scratch him.
You got a strong slap in response and a split lower lip. You tasted your own blood, but apparently there was someone else who was curious to taste it. You watched the soldier approach without hesitation, sucking on his lower lip. His hands gripped your hips in such a dangerous way that you feared what would happen next.
"You said you wouldn't hurt me." you whispered shortly after the soldier walked away. Then, he smiled faintly at you, this time with more irony and malice.
"You're right, but if you misbehave you don't give me much choice." his answer only made you whimper. His eyes were watching you carefully, and at the moment the soldier was interested that you hadn't opened your eyes. You were keeping them tightly closed, but you would not have left that room, not even with your mind.
A subtle idea crossed his mind. He began to let his hands wander over your body, savoring its curves, lingering on your breasts and inner thighs. Oh, how he came dangerously close to that sweet spot, and his senses of him even felt your arousal. He licked his lower lip, then leaned over and kissed you with burning passion.
He knew from the first moment that he couldn't kill you, it would be a waste. Besides, he deserved an award for all those missions. He groaned at the heat that you emitted and that pathetic struggle that you put into action every time. He made him damn horny, which the soldier shouldn't have done.
Yet he was doing it. And he would do a lot more once he tore those clothes off you.
we will be together (in my mind you’re mine forever)
Pairing: Dark!Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Rating: Explicit (18+)
Featuring: Dark A/B/O Dynamics; Dubious Consent; Oral Sex (F!Receiving); Vaginal Sex; Knotting; Creampie; Biting; Cum Marking; Light Breeding Kink; Your typical hallmarks of A/B/O fic + kidnapping
Summary: Bucky knows your heat is the right time to bond you, the best chance of it taking, but he has to time it right. Right now your body is being flooded with hormones telling you to find an alpha, to get knotted and bred. He’s been laying the groundwork these past months, easing you off your suppressants and retraining you so that your heat can take care of the rest. Your stubborn will weakened by thousands of years of biology to finally accept him as your mate.
It's your first heat since Bucky kidnapped you and took you to his den, and the perfect opportunity to make you his forever.
A/N: Please mind the Featuring section! This is (my first!) dark!fic. I would categorize this as dark!fic-lite, but YMMV so take care, and see the end note for more details if you’re unsure 😊 Title from Mine Forever by Lord Huron.
Bucky can smell it the moment he opens the door to the cabin. The thick, heady scent of heat rushes out and surrounds him immediately, your natural sweet peach turned overripe, full and heavy, ready to fall from the tree and begging to be eaten. He’s been expecting this for days now, noticing the gradual change in your scent and your listlessness—your body conserving energy, preparing itself for the coming days of frantic breeding—but even so, the reality of it is still overwhelming. That damn scent. It’s like a siren call, like a rope around his neck pulling him to you. A tighter leash than Hydra’d ever had on him. If you were still in that cramped little apartment in the city there’d be alphas circling your door like vultures, Bucky’s sure of it. As it is, he’s glad for the miles and miles of wilderness between his den and the rest of the world.
He’s ready for this, has been preparing for weeks—months, really. Since the moment he saw you, scented you, sweeter than the apples you’d been putting in your bag at the market, even dulled by the suppressants you’d been taking. All the books and articles and papers he’d read said the first heat or rut after coming off suppressants is always strong, like the body is compensating for those lost opportunities to breed. And judging by the waves of scent drifting down the hall and hitting Bucky like a fucking tidal wave, they were right.
Bucky hasn’t been around an omega in heat in over seventy years, as far as he can remember, and his hindbrain threatens to take over with every lungful of your scent, urging him to soothe, knot, breed. But there’s no distress in your scent, no danger, so he forces himself to relax, reminding himself he has a job to do, a responsibility to take care of you, not just rut away at you like some green alpha pup who just popped his first knot. He takes measured steps across the short distance from the front door to the kitchen, setting down bags of groceries—electrolyte drinks and pre-chopped fruits and vegetables, all easily fed to an exhausted omega from the comfort of their nest—and puts them away, even as his cock starts to swell in his jeans and his own brown sugar scent turns heated and hungry. But he didn’t work all these months watching you, learning you, training you, to throw it all away so close to the finish line.
And it has been work. Hard days and long nights and sacrifices. There’d been the weeks of preparation, finding and arranging the perfect den all while trying to keep an eye on you, keep you safe from other alphas until Bucky could take you home. And that had been the easy part. It’s been months since Bucky took you to his den and he hasn’t so much as kissed you the entire time—and not for lack of wanting. He’s been too occupied getting you settled. Easing you off your suppressants and dealing with the mood swings and sickness. Helping you unlearn all those twisted beliefs ingrained in you about an omega’s place in the world. Teaching you about pack, about how a real alpha should behave.
He’s even maintained his own suppressants—the ones Hydra kept him on whenever he was in use—despite the way they make him feel stretched too tightly over his bones, his instincts dulled. But without a pack, it just wouldn’t be safe for both of you to go without them. The last thing you’re ready for right now is an enhanced alpha you still don’t fully trust to go into a super-strengthened rut, and neither of you is ready for pups.
There are so many things Bucky hates about modern society but the way they’ve turned away from packs has to be the worst. Packs are seen as old-fashioned now, in the way arranged marriages are old-fashioned; an understandable phenomenon, but one society has naturally outgrown for the betterment of all and should not look back on fondly. The alphas, beta, and omegas of today have no idea what a pack is, but Bucky can’t dwell on those frustrations right now.
Setting the last of the groceries in the fridge, he finally makes his way to the source of all that overwhelming sweetness, adjusting his cock in his jeans on the way. Months of sleeping chastely beside you, scenting you tenderly each morning and night, and stripping his cock raw in the shower are about to pay off. Bucky’s always understood the value of the long game, of lining up the perfect shot and waiting for the right moment to pull the trigger—and that moment has arrived.
Bucky unlocks the bedroom door with the key hanging on a string nailed to the doorframe—you’re so much better behaved now, but he still relies on the old precautions when he has to leave you—and he nearly knots in his fucking jeans at the sight that greets him.
You’re almost exactly where he’d left you, nestled among the pillows and blankets of your nest in the corner of the room—you’d insisted on sleeping in your nest the night before, tugging at Bucky’s arm when he’d tried to get you into bed, further evidence of your coming heat and what had prompted Bucky’s last-minute grocery run. When he’d left you this morning you were sleeping so deeply you hadn’t so much as twitched when he’d scented you. You’re not sleeping peacefully anymore. You’re on your side facing away from the door, completely naked, face pressed into one of the pillows from the now stripped-bare bed—and Bucky would lay money that it’s his pillow, that you’re instinctively seeking out the scent of your alpha. The other pillow is clutched between your thighs as you grind against it, a large, dark spot the evidence of your arousal as you keen, desperate for relief.
Bucky can’t help but growl at the sight and it alerts you to his presence; so lost in the first of your heat you hadn’t even noticed him opening the door. You turn your head, looking over your shoulder at him. “Alpha,” you gasp and Christ, but maybe that’s even nicer than the sight of your hungry cunt rocking against a pillow like it can give even close to what you need. It’s the first time you’ve said his designation that way—with awe and reverence, how Bucky’d always imagined when he was a pup. The way he’d seen in the movies, the way his dad said it to his ma. The closest he’d gotten from you ‘til now has been begrudging yes, alpha’s and no, alpha’s and only with a hard look from Bucky first.
There’s no hint of that defiance in you now as you immediately roll onto your belly and tug in your knees to present, legs spread wide on the cushions of the nest, your face turned so you can look at you’re alpha. Bucky feels his cock twitch at how your glossy cunt spreads open for him, slick dripping down your folds and onto your thighs in gossamer webs. The scent of it, earthy and heat-sweetened nearly knocks him down. He has to get his mouth on you.
Bucky steps into the nest, tugging off his shirt and socks as he goes, releasing his scent into the air, brown sugar and peach mixing into the scent Bucky can only think of as den, as home. He can see its effect on you in the way the arch of your back deepens, the way your knees spread even wider, the scent telling you alpha is here, urging you to make yourself as appealing as possible, an easy mount. He crawls up behind you and tugs your hips against his groin, pressing against you in a quick, dirty grind. You keen at it, begging, “Please, please, alpha.” Pushing back on him and darkening the front of his jeans with your slick.
“Shh, omega,” Bucky hushes you, pressing in over your bare back, turning your head to rub the scent glands at his neck along yours one side at a time as his wrists cover yours, the closeness and scent-marking soothing you slightly, taking away the tinge of panic that’s started to creep in the longer your alpha is near but doesn’t mount you. “That’s it, honey, that’s good,” he praises gently, easing you enough that he can get you on your back, and Jesus, that’s another sight.
All that flushed, glistening skin laid bare for him. His eyes trail a path from the swell of your breasts, down your belly—picturing them both swollen and full, nourishment and a home for his pups—to where you need him most. He knows your body is craving his knot and he’ll give it to you—oh, will he give it to you—but he wants something else first, something he’s been craving since that very first day.
You squirm under his focused attention. “Bucky, please.” There are fat tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, your sweet bottom lip trembling and it sets something burning in him, something dark and mean. All that desperation for him; pure, unbridled need, and maybe if you weren’t in heat he’d tease you with it. See if he could get those pretty tears to spill before he touched you. See if he could get you sobbing with it.
As it is, he’s got enough control to push that desire down to be examined another time. “I know, omega.” He adds a little rumble to his voice that has you melting into the nest as his hands spread your legs for him. “I know what you need and you’ll get it, promise, honey,” he says, pressing a kiss to your knee. He mouths his way down, scenting at the glands at the insides of your thighs as you gasp and moan. His mouth waters the closer he gets to the source of all that intoxicating scent.
Finally, he’s nosing into damp curls as his tongue presses flat against your hole, immediately coated in bittersweet slick. You keen at the contact, thighs flexing against Bucky’s grip where he holds you open. He laps at your pussy in long, wide licks, trying to get as much of that taste in his mouth as he can, wanting you in him like he’ll be in you. He lets the rumble build in his chest as he switches to flick at your clit and slides two fingers into you to quell that urge to be filled. The combination of it all has you mindless. Easy and boneless and garbling out nonsense that might be his name, or alpha, or please in between keening whimpers and moans.
Bucky curls his fingers as his tongue works at your clit and it’s only moments until you’re coming, slick squeezed from your cunt as it pulses around his fingers, dripping until his palm and wrist are soaked with it, and fuck, he can’t wait to feel that around his knot. “Yeah, that’s it,” he coos, teasing out the last aftershocks of your orgasm. Bucky looks up from between your thighs to see your eyes shut, mouth open as you pant. He kisses his way back up your body and licks into your open mouth. The first time he kisses you, and it’s with the slick of your cunt on his tongue, on his cheeks and chin and now on yours, too.
You kiss back lazily, pulling away after a moment to scent at his neck again, purring quietly. “Yeah, that’s better, huh?” he chuckles, and you nod, nuzzling into him. Bucky feels his heart clench, feels a lump in his throat at how nice it is. How good it feels to be sweet to you, to have you purring against his chest and smelling of safety and comfort, as well as heat and desire. He was so lost and lonely and afraid for so long. Since he left Steve (you’re my friend, I’m with you ‘til the end of the line) on the riverbank and fled DC. Since he fell from the train, or before that, strapped to a metal table (32557038, 32557…) and wanting his pack or wanting to hurry up and die.
So many months on the run, trying to figure out this strange new world, scribbling down the memories that burned through his broken brain like fever dreams, and packing up and running again whenever he caught wind of Steve, not ready yet to reckon with his last, failed mission despite the desperate longing in his gut that screamed pack every time he so much as thought of the man. The flashes of golden hair and fresh, clean beta-scent. Of fair skin under his lips, packmates fumbling through alpha-pup ruts turning into something more, something deeper. It was too much, too soon and he could only run from it.
And then you.
With that sweet peach scent that reminded him of those rare occasions his father could get his hands on fresh fruit; an image of him and Steve standing outside the kitchen as the smell of peach cobbler filled the apartment flashing up in his mind unbidden. He’d followed the scent to its source and there you were, giving the apple vendor a big bright smile and then you’d turned that smile on Bucky, standing there next to you like a dolt. And that was it; he knew.
And now here you are, safe and warm and denned and it’s just good in a way that almost hurts in its utter, overwhelming simplicity.
You’re content to curl up in his arms for a few more minutes but eventually you start to whine, hips shifting a little. You need more than a single orgasm and a couple of fingers tucked inside your cunt. You need Bucky’s knot, need to be fucked full of his seed, over and over until your body is satisfied, claimed. Bucky rumbles again and reaches down to undo his jeans. The moment you notice, your hands are fluttering down from his back and tugging at his waistband. His helpful little omega, he thinks, grinning at the look of concentration on your face as your clumsy hands fumble at his jeans.
“How ‘bout you present for me, omega?” he suggests instead and you nod eagerly, rolling over and getting into position next to him as Bucky finally works his legs out of his jeans and underwear—no easy feat while half-lying in a sea of pillows and blankets. “Good girl,” he praises you. “So good for me, such a good omega.” You are good for him, the perfect mate, despite the challenges he’s had with you. It’s not your fault you were brought up wrong and Bucky’s never held it against you, has always known there were good instincts beneath all that attitude and disobedience. He’s seeing them now, in the deep arch of your back, in the scent of pride in your scent when he compliments you. And now he finally gets to make you his.
Bucky settles behind you and wastes no time; his own instincts are screaming at him and he can’t ignore them any longer. He grips the base of his cock, knot just starting to plump, and slides into your cunt in one long thrust, immediately setting a furious pace, fucking into you fast and hard. His hands clutch at your hips, moving you with his body. You come in the first handful of thrusts and Bucky isn’t far behind. This first time won’t last long; the first fuck of a heat or rut never does, and Bucky wishes he could take his time and savour it, but he knows waiting for your heat was the right call. You have the rest of your lives to take your time with each other, and with the feeling of your pussy, wet and gripping his cock so tight, clenching around him in orgasm—he’s not sure he’d have been able to last even if your heat-scent wasn’t filling his lungs.
The room is filled with the slap of his thighs against yours, the filthy wet noise of his cock moving inside you, and your whimpers and gasps and moans as you take everything Bucky’s giving you.
It’s only a few more thrusts before his knot starts to catch, pulling at your opening each time he pulls out and forcing inside when he thrusts back in. Your voice grows even wilder, more desperate, as you feel his knot swell until finally Bucky comes, pushing in hard as his knot pops, locking him inside you and stretching your pussy wide as he fills you with cum. It’s heaven, bliss, so much better than he ever imagined—and he imagined a lot. You come again while he does, pulsing around his knot, your body milking his, your empty womb begging to be filled.
Breathing hard, Bucky presses close over your back, wrapping his arms around your body and rolling you both onto your sides to ride out the tie. He mouths at your scent gland, licking and sucking, unable to resist teasing with just the lightest drag of his teeth that has you shivering, cunt squeezing his knot. But he won’t bite you yet, despite his hindbrain urging him to claim you, mark you on the outside like his cum is marking you inside. He lets the sniper’s instincts win out over the alpha’s—play the long game, wait for the right moment.
He noses at the nape of your neck, presses kisses behind your ear and you wiggle back against him, purring again and providing sensation to his knot. No words are exchanged, just the silent communication of your scents pumping out smug brown sugar-peach into the air. You feel so good in his arms like this, all warm, bare skin pressed along the length of his body, as close as it’s possible to be. He can’t help but rock his hips a little, pulling out just enough to see how the thin skin of your cunt clings to him, stretched wide around the bulk of his knot. It doesn’t take long to grind both of you to another orgasm, even more slick and cum added to the mess inside you.
You’re nearly asleep by the time Bucky’s knot shrinks. He pulls out, shifting you gently onto your back to watch the mess drip from your pussy. Instinct guides him to reach down and slide his fingers through your folds, getting them wet with mingled slick and cum before rubbing it into the scent glands on your neck. You rouse a little, moaning lightly, your own instincts pleased at the way your alpha marks you with his scent. Bucky repeats the process on your inner thighs and then over your cunt, lazily circling your clit to another shuddering orgasm.
He presses those fingers to your lips after, and you open automatically, sucking off the taste and fuck, he wants to get those lips around his cock. He wants to keep you like this forever. Easy and eager and docile for him. You’re drifting again, eyes shut and breath evening out as you doze. Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead and tugs a thin blanket over you before leaving the nest.
“I’m gonna bring you some food, honey. Be back in a minute,” he tells you, though he doubts you’re aware enough right now to even hear it.
He leaves the bedroom door open and tries to prepare a plate as quickly as possible, uneasy to leave you alone for even a few minutes. Once again he wishes he had a pack. Omegas aren’t supposed to be left alone during a heat, despite what modern society seems to think. If this were Bucky’s day, even a bonded omega would have at least two heat-partners so they would never be alone, never left wanting. Now everyone is so obsessed with independence, individuality. They’ve abandoned community but they call it liberation.
Bucky is just grateful for the serum. If he were a normal alpha he’d have a hard time keeping up with you. Modern alphas, he’s learned, usually have to rely on medications or toys just to get their omegas through their heats. Or suppressants, of course, which seems to be given out like candy.
The future’s not all bad though, Bucky has to admit, as he prepares a plate for you. He remembers crowding into their tiny kitchen with Steve and Becca as pups, making watery broth out of whatever vegetables they could get their hands on during his dad’s heats. Remembers how Sarah would take extra shifts before his mother’s ruts so they could afford a few decent cuts of meat. A plate piled high with fresh fruit, and no scrimping or saving to get them, is a luxury Bucky could only have dreamed of as a pup.
He notices the change in your scent just as he’s putting the last of the containers back into the fridge. Calm and content soured by fear and confusion. He picks up the platter of food and hurries back to the bedroom.
You’re shivering, curled on your side with your knees pulled to your chest. Bucky sets the plate on the floor and climbs into the nest again. He kneels at your side, reaches down to rub his wrist against your neck but you flinch away, the frightened-peach scent spiking. “Shh, shh,” he hushes you. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“This is wrong. I-I—I don’t want this. I—” you speak the words to your knees, haltingly, like it’s a struggle to get them out, your eyes screwed shut tight.
It’s not uncommon for omegas to experience anxiety and distress during a heat, Bucky knows. Hormones are running wild, emotions are heightened, and the overwhelming desire to be bred makes them especially vulnerable.
Bucky immediately starts up a strong rumble and tries to forcefully put out a calming scent to counter your bitter unhappiness. He can see you fighting it, shrinking into yourself, his stubborn little omega, but the effect on you is almost instant. Your eyes open, glossy and lidded, as the rumble empties your mind and Bucky’s scent fills it up with warm safety and comfort.
He pulls you into his lap, pressing your head to his chest. You’re no longer on the edge of panic, but your scent is still tinged with fear and confusion—your mind fighting the needs of your body, your natural desires, and twisting you up inside as you struggle to reconcile them both. It’s what Bucky’s spent the last several months trying to help you untangle, and he’s proud that these moments are getting fewer and farther between as he teaches you to take pride in your nature, to embrace your instincts. He’s not surprised you’d have another moment of struggle now, though.
He speaks in low, soothing tones as takes your wrists one at a time and presses them to the scent glands in his neck, spreading his safe-comfort brown sugar scent. “I’m here, you’re safe, omega. You’re in your nest, in our den, and you’re safe. Alpha is here. We’re both safe.”
You squirm a little, brow furrowing. Your mouth opens twice before you manage to get out any words against the weight of Bucky’s rumble and scent. “I’m not safe. I don’t want this.” You speak slowly, forcefully, even as you nuzzle your cheek against his chest.
He shakes his head at you for the millionth time, he’s sure. So stubborn, his little omega. Hurting no one more than yourself and thinking it’s strength. “You don’t have to fight so hard, honey. It’s okay to listen to your body. It’s okay to like it.” He slides a hand between your thighs where you’re still dripping slick, despite your protests. “And it’s pretty clear you liked it, omega.”
You whine and Bucky can see tears forming in your eyes but you don’t speak again. He’s had this conversation with you before, so many times, but it gets shorter every time as your ability to argue weakens, as you learn to accept what you are. Who you belong to, who you belong with. How many times have you snarled and spat and fought only to end up curled against Bucky’s chest, clinging to him as you cried? The picture of a difficult omega who just needs the right alpha. Back in Bucky’s day, you would’ve ended up starving on the streets, or worse. Or committed to an Omega Asylum, a ward of the state until some half-rate alpha who couldn’t get an omega on their own agreed to take you in—to bond you or beat you into submission.
Bucky’d always hated those alphas and their lazy, weak excuses. His ma always told him—and Steve and Becca, betas needed to take care, too—that an alpha who could only keep their mate in line with their fists didn’t deserve to have a mate at all. That a real alpha knows there’s no such thing as too much work for the right omega; no omega so difficult they can’t be tamed by the right alpha.
And the proof of it is curled against Bucky’s chest. Not tamed yet, not completely, but almost there, and without a single hand raised to you in anger to get you there.
Bucky reaches for the plate of food and feeds you and himself until the plate is empty, your mouth opening sweetly for each portion of fruit he places at your lips, speaking soothing sweet nothings until you’re boneless against his chest, eyes closed and nearly asleep, all bitterness gone from your scent. He lays you down, pulling you back against his front and tugs at pillows and blankets until you’re completely surrounded, safe and warm, your mingled peach and brown sugar scents filling every breath.
The next two days are a blur of fucking and feeding and resting. Bucky sleeps when you do and wakes to your hips grinding back into his or your lips mouthing along his neck, his sweet omega trying to gently ease him away to take care of her.
There are brief moments of struggle, usually shortly after a knotting when the heat-haze is lightest, but he manages to keep you easy and sweet for him so long as he stays by your side, rumbling and soothing when your scent starts to turn. Distracting you with food or pleasure; your base urges overpowering everything else.
He's managed not to bite you yet, though it hasn’t been easy. The day before he’d coaxed you gently into riding him—and hadn’t that been a sight: your tits bouncing as you moved on his cock, fingernails digging divots into the sweat-slick skin of his chest as you scrabbled for purchase, shameless and desperately chasing your own pleasure, all nerves and insecurity swept away by your alpha’s praise. You’d tired quickly, leaning down against Bucky’s chest and licking at his scent glands as you rolled your lips in clumsy circles. It had your neck perfectly placed for him to sink his teeth into your own scent glands. He’d had to hold himself back with all his will, reminding himself of the consequences of a failed bond. Your orgasm had been a good distraction, at least. The squeeze of your cunt urging him toward his own climax. He’d flipped your positions with a growl, furiously thrusting into your wet heat until his knot popped, starting the feed-rest-fuck cycle over again, getting ever closer to the finish line.
Bucky knows your heat is the right time to bond you, the best chance of it taking, but he has to time it right. Right now your body is being flooded with hormones telling you to find an alpha, to get knotted and bred. He’s been laying the groundwork these past months, easing you off your suppressants and retraining you so that your heat can take care of the rest. Your stubborn will weakened by thousands of years of biology to finally accept him as your mate.
After days wrapped around his knot, his scent and hormones soaking your insides and smoothed into your skin, his praise and comfort and support, giving you everything your body needs, showing his worth as a mate—any omega would be hard-pressed to resist a bonding bite after all that. There’s a reason heats are supposed to be spent with trusted packmates. A heat-frenzied omega might go off with any alpha in that state, might bond and be tied to them until death.
But if the bond does fail, Bucky will have to start practically from scratch. A failed bonding bite will tell your body he’s not a worthy alpha and he’ll have to build your trust all over again. So he knows his best chance is to ride out your heat as long as possible and make sure you’re satisfied in every way the entire time.
By the fourth day, the heat-scent is dissipating. Still sweet and alluring, but not so heavy and thick it overwhelms everything else. Bucky’s actually managed to wake before you for once—another sign that your heat is nearly finished—and he takes the brief respite to enjoy the chaste sweetness of your sleeping body on his chest. Your cheek is pressed up against his heartbeat and your legs are tangled with his. He can feel the damp heat of your cunt against his hip and his cock hardens in response but there’s no immediacy to it, the arousal is just warm and easy.
Early morning sunlight filters through the gap in the curtains, catching dust motes in the air and casting the room in a clean, bright glow. The room itself is a mess of pillows and blankets and Bucky’s own clothing, items discarded and replaced by some internal omega logic of yours as the days passed. Your voice, imperious and precise as you’d ordered Bucky around the room to fetch this pillow or that shirt, then painstakingly arranging them in the nest.
Bucky tightens his arms around you and presses a kiss to your head, breathing in the scent of your hair. Something about the peace of this moment has a part of him locking into place that had felt unmoored before now. An image pops into his head—you and him, just like this. Your pups safe and sleeping in the other room. It’s a fantasy and promise and the certainty of it fills him up with a feeling of safety and strength like he hasn’t known since he was a little kid in Brooklyn, surrounded by his pack and knowing nothing of pain or war or death.
He feels your head shift on his chest and looks down to find you looking back at him. The expression on your face is soft and open, made all the more meaningful for the clarity in your eyes, bright and alert.
“Good morning,” he says, so softly it’s almost silent.
“Good morning.” You shift so you’re held above him a little, palms pressed to his chest. Bucky sees a handful of undiscernible emotions play across your face as you look down at him, eyes sweeping over his own face. You lean your head down in a stuttering motion and pause with your lips just an inch from his. Your scent is steady and clear; no bitter, all sweet, and you close the gap, slotting your mouth against Bucky’s in the softest, gentlest kiss you’ve shared yet.
In a matter of wordless, unhurried moments Bucky is rocking into you slow and lazy and deep, nestled close in the cradle of your hips. Your chests are pressed close, hardly any room between you at all, with his forearms bracketing your head, fingers interlocked above you. There’s a scant inch or two between his mouth and yours, close enough he can lean in and kiss you just by tilting his chin.
“So good, omega.” Soft praise falls from Bucky’s lips like the breath forced from his lungs. “You feel so good. Gonna fill you up, huh?” He shudders out of a moan at how you tighten around him at that.
“Alpha,” you gasp. “Want your knot—need it.”
“Fuck.” Bucky’s thrusts pick up speed and you keen, legs tightening around him as you mouth at his neck. “Gonna give you my knot, omega, give you my pups. Gonna be so pretty with your belly all full of me, honey.” It’s all fantasy for now, but he sees it so clearly, crystalized in his mind—your body rounded and heavy—and the way your scent spikes, flooding the air with arousal and desire tells him you see it, too. Tells him it’s time.
Bucky’d always imagined the moment he bonded you as some passionate, frantic moment. Pictured you on your knees in presentation for him as he thrust away behind you, like the first time, hard and fast, fingers gripping your hips as his teeth gripped your neck. But as he fits his mouth to your neck, kisses and licks his way to your scent gland as the two of you continue to rock together in a smooth rhythm, pressed together face-to-face, he thinks this is so much better and no less passionate.
He nips as your skin a couple times in warning, curious to see how you’ll respond—he’s only gotten so close as dragging his teeth along the spot so far, nothing approaching a bite—and you tilt your head back for him, moan out, “Alpha.” No defiance or fear or anything in your scent except safety and want and trust.
Bucky’s teeth pierce the tender skin of your neck and his cock thrusts deep, knot popping as he comes instantly, all white-hot sensation, bright and raw and endless. You gasp and he feels your cunt clenching around him in tight, squeezing waves. There aren’t words for the way he feels. Everything he’s ever heard or read or imagined couldn’t have prepared him for the all-consuming, overwhelming closeness and trust and love and affection—everything—he feels for you in this moment. He can only imagine your own emotions with the last of your heat still burning through your body.
He practically collapses on top of you in the aftermath, pressing his mouth to yours in a messy, bloody kiss, pulling away to lick at the bite, sending waves of bonded brown sugar-peach into the air.
“Mine, mine, mine,” he growls it into your throat as he grinds his knot inside you, the pleasure almost too much, an endless wave of sensation as his cum fills you up.
“Yours, alpha.” You’re trembling, tears spilling down your cheeks and Bucky licks them up—he wants all of you now, he has all of you, everything, always. “I’m yours,” you breathe, repeating it softly.
By the time Bucky’s heart rate has slowed and he’s regained control of his body you’re nearly asleep, exhausted and sated, the last of your heat-scent drifting away. You’ll sleep for most of the day now, recovering your strength. He wraps his arms around you and carefully turns so you’re resting on top of him, still tied at his knot for a long while yet.
With the certainty of his claim on you and the safety of having you in his arms, Bucky just enjoys the closeness, nosing into your hair and taking in your bonded scent. You nuzzle into him even in your sleep, a purr building in your chest. For the first time in far, far too long, Bucky feels true, unwavering happiness. And he knows with sudden, perfect, certainty that he’s ready for the next step for him and his omega. The next step to having everything he’s always wanted; everything he’s determined he’ll finally have now that he’s free.
It’s time to find Steve—or maybe finally let Steve find him—and be a pack again. It’s time to go home.
A/N: If you’re familiar with dark!fic I don’t think there’s anything in here that’ll shock you, but if you’re not: the concept is Bucky has kidnapped the Reader and Stockholm-Syndromed her into relative compliance with his own in-world old-fashioned preferences, plus the dubious consent inherent to how I’ve chosen to depict heats in this fic. I’ve labelled this dubious consent bc that’s a thing that exists in the fanfiction world, but obviously this would all be straight rape/non-con IRL, so read at your own risk. There’s no physical violence, but there is a brief moment where the Reader verbally expresses discomfort with what’s happening and Bucky basically gaslights her, plus mentions of him “retraining” her during her captivity.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed my first (completed, anyway) foray into dark!fic 😊
𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?
𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.
ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ
SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST
You both were sitting in his balcony, overlooking the gardens. You didn’t want to wake up Iris. So, you both decided to go somewhere else and talk. Sitting on a swing, you were just breathing the fresh air in. The silence was very warm and comfortable.
“So...?” You decided to break the silence. “Nothing really, I just wanted to talk like the old times. About nothing in general.” He scoffed at that. “I missed you.” He spoke. Steve looked at you just the way he used to years before. Just that back then you used to look down while now you were craning your neck.
You gave him a pained smile. “I missed you too.” You didn’t dare look in his eyes for you feared what you might see. You stared straight ahead. “The garden is beautiful. Your gardener has done a great job.”
“He sure has.... are you okay? You want to tell me something? You seemed pale when you came up.” He said looking at you expectedly. You debated whether to tell him. Should you?
“Nothing really. Told you, i ran all the way up. Didn’t want to disturb anybody.” You shrugged. You had a feeling he knew you were lying, but gladly he didn’t drag it. “So... how’s Bucky? I mean...” your eyes widened. It was the last thing you expected him to say.
“He’s... I don’t know. The shadow of the man he once was.” There was no point in lying. You had irresistible urge to ask about what happened to the drug addict but you didn’t want to know the answer.
“Was he like this from the... I wanted to ask you the day we met. I saw... I saw your neck.” He confessed feeling guilty somehow. He had noticed the marks on your neck but hadn’t asked. As he didn’t need to, he knew what had happened. He just wanted to hear it from you.
“Oh... that, no. He wasn’t like that before. He was kind and caring and everything I ever imagined and more. And then... then I don’t know what happened. Maybe I do...” you gulped at the thought of the Soldat.
“That was the only time he hurt me. Not once before had that happened.” You weren’t meeting his eye and he noticed that. “You want to share something? You know your secret would be safe.”
You desperately wanted to tell him about the truth but you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk his life. The information was too confidential. “Not really.” You pressed your lips together.
Both of you didn’t speak for a while. “You know, I did come to see you after that day. I used to visit the park every day in the hopes of seeing you. I used to stand near your house. Hell, I even went to your school once. I didn’t see you but I met your bullies. They told me you had beat the shit out of the leader. Not gonna lie, I was impressed.”
She chuckled at that, “I was super mad that day. And that idiot decided to bully me, and I swear to god the rush I felt while hitting him. The whole school had gathered.”
It was the day right after you had left him. He had been sitting alone and eating his lunch. Too bad the bullies decided to piss him off. But it wasn’t their day. He had removed all his anger and frustration on them. His father had been proud of him that night. He had known that his son was capable of handling the business.
“Also.... I know that you wanted to see me.” You turned around with shock. “But I didn’t see you anywhere.” At that he shook his head. “I was always behind you. And it’s not metaphorical. I was always a few feet away at the park. I saw how you used to search for me. I used to sit in my window and see how you expectantly stood at the tree near my house. And I even saw you standing outside my school. I purposely missed you.”
“Why Steve? I... I wanted to apologise. You could’ve just met me once.” Your eyes were wet with unshed tears. “I couldn’t see you walk away from me again. You were the only person I wanted to believe me; in who I was and not my father.
I never told you about my family not because I wanted to lie, but because I wanted you to like me; a skinny idiot boy who couldn’t protect himself. I wanted to be my own man, and you were the only one who helped me. Others were too busy trying to groom me into a man I’m not.
That day, I had a little hope you would choose me; Steve, not the son of Joseph Rogers and neither Bucky. But you didn’t even take a second before leaving me. I wasn’t even an option for you. I felt as if... I didn’t even matter to you.”
“That’s not true. You meant a lot to me. You still do” You said holding back tears. “You didn’t even give me a chance to prove myself. To prove you I wasn’t like my father. To prove you that I would...” he quickly stopped himself before saying that he would love you more than Bucky.
“Forgive me Steve, please. I know I did a mistake. I should’ve at least reconsidered. I punished you for a crime you hadn’t committed. I left you for your father’s crimes. I shouldn’t have done that.” You said sobbing.
“Some days I wonder that maybe I would’ve been a different man if you had chosen me.” He didn’t want to guilt trip you, but he wanted to make you feel enough guilt that you would lean in to him for support. So that your guilt wouldn’t let you leave him this time.
“Hey, no more crying. Now that we’ve finally met once again, we can make up for all the time we missed.” He took your chin between his fingers and raised your head. “We can be best friends just like we were that day. And I know, some parts of our soul are still untainted like they were years ago.”
“Steve... I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve done so much for me. I...” you choked up and cleared your throat. “I don’t know what I can do for you. But I... I need to leave tomorrow.” His eyes widened.
“The hell you are. You are staying here and not leaving. This is the only way you can repay me.” You were sure he used his mob boss voice at you.
“Steve, me staying here is not safe. Not for you, not for George, not for anyone else. I need to go before Bucky comes...”
“Why are you worried? Do you know how many of us are there? We can easily subdue Bucky if it comes to it.”
“No, you can’t! I’m not doubting you. But you have no idea what Bucky is capable of. He has killed Presidents with high level security, killing me in your house won’t be a big task for him...” you instantly but your tongue.
“He has killed what?” Steve asked. “You never heard that, Steve. Please for your own good. I never said anything. I’m leaving Steve that’s all.” At that he gripped your arm.
“You are not. I don’t care what he has done. I won’t let him harm you; I promise you. But if you leave, he’ll get you sooner and you’d be helpless.” You still weren’t agreeing.
“You’ve done so much for me Steve. I wouldn’t be able to live if something happened to you, or your family or your people. Bucky is as it is prejudiced against you. I...”
“Don’t think about yourself, think about Iris. Here she has a comfortable roof and she is safe. Where would you go with her? Stay here, please.”
He was right. “Okay. I... Stevie you are the best.” His heart melted at that. You finally called him Stevie. You hugged him and he held you tight. “Can I ask you something?”
“Ask me two.” You happily replied. “What does Bucky do exactly? I know he is not in the military...” you peeked you from his embrace, “Something nobody should be doing.” You replied.
He didn’t ask further. “You still wanna tell me why you were so flustered.” You cursed Steve in your head, why did he have to know you so much. “Umm, no.”
“Alright, wanna have donuts?” You quickly nodded. And like the old times you both enjoyed your donuts. What Steve didn’t tell you though, was that he knew. He had walked up the same route as you and he had heard Wanda and Vision, too. It wasn’t a secret; it was a part of their marriage deal as long as he didn’t get her pregnant.
Steve just wanted to test your loyalty to him. He wanted to know whether you would tell him, or you would lie. You did lie this time, but he was sure, after a few days you wouldn’t.
It had been two weeks and you were breathing. There was gladly no sign of Bucky anywhere. Though you were happy, you felt as if this was the silence before the storm.
Living with Steve was nice. Except one thing, your freedom. Not that he didn’t let you out or anything, just that whenever you went anywhere, Clint and Sam would always be by your side. The only worst part was that he didn’t let you work.
Apparently, he had asked for a leave from your hospital and they had sanctioned it, after all who denied Steve Rogers. They were even paying you full time, despite being on leave for so long. But you missed the stench of the hospital, you missed the thrill and most importantly you missed the feeling of when a life was saved.
Steve had not so subtly asked you to work for him more than once, but you always denied. You had no interest in getting stuck in the jungle.
Otherwise, it was super fun. You could give time to yourself; your dark circles had reduced; your skin was in better condition. And the best part was the garden. You adored plants. And so, you used all your spare time gardening in his mansion.
Rissie was getting home schooled along with George. They both had grown close to each other. Though you regretted paying her hefty school fees; only if you knew she was going to be home schooled, you wouldn’t have paid her yearly fees.
Currently you were sneaking into your room. Now it had become a ritual for you and Steve to have long talks in the quiet of the night. And it was just like the old times.
You saw Iris was fast asleep and you joined her on the bed. You weren’t quite sleepy so you decided to binge on Family Guy as you did almost every other night. It wasn’t funny anymore but it was your guilty pleasure. It had become routine for you to watch it. After that, it didn’t take much long for you to fall into deep slumber.
Your eyelids faintly opened up in the middle of the night and you could see someone standing on the edge of the bed. As the moonlight peered in, you saw it was Bucky. You wanted to get up. But you were in much too deep sleep for your body to react.
When you were finally able to get up, you looked around but gladly no one was there. You checked the bathroom, closet, under the bed, nope, he wasn’t there. And literally nothing was out of place. So apparently now your sleep paralysis demon was Bucky!
You were scrolling past a news article when you heard commotion. You went downstairs and saw absolute chaos. There had been a fight and while the others were slightly injured, Clint was shot and was critical.
“Can you help us? Please? We don’t have a doctor right now, he is on the way, but he might be late.” Vision asked you. His own leg had a cut, but he could walk. Sam’s hand had a minor cut from the look of it, but he was much better than the others.
Now you didn’t care where these people had been. They were your patients now, and the surgeon inside you roared to life. You agreed without a second thought.
You were surprised to find they had a whole operation theatre inside the house. You quickly took the reins and began your work. Halfway through, another doctor joined in. And it took you a moment to realize him.
Clint was finally out of the danger and the procedure was successful. Later you kept on patching everyone else up. For once they were glad that you were a trauma surgeon. And they all thanked to you.
But right now, you were too busy wondering why and how Thor was here. It was almost evening now as you finally sat on a nearby couch. You saw Thor approach you.
“Hey!” Your voice was filled with uncertainty. Thor being Thor, he first hugged you tight. “I missed you. We all miss you the hospital. We are so sad that you won’t be coming anymore. Just a year more and I swear to god you would’ve been the chief of surgery.” You already were the chief of trauma surgery and you wouldn’t say he was wrong.
But that’s not what caught your ear. “What? Who told I wasn’t coming back?” Thor raised his eyebrows and you knew the news wasn’t good. “Didn’t you... didn’t you resign?” You audibly gasped.
“I did what? No I definitely did not resign. I’m on a leave. And why would they pay me if I’ve resigned?” Thor was even more worried now, “The hospital isn’t issuing you a pay check anymore. I talked with Maria from the HR that day itself.”
“That’s not true.” You couldn’t believe your ears. You’d checked your bank account, and it had a steady incoming of your salary. “It is. Your position is gone too, Alex is now the chief of Trauma.”
Had you really lost your job? But then why hadn’t anyone told you about it? And who was paying you salary? You would find that soon, but currently you had other questions too. “And what are you doing here?” He pursed his lips, “That’s my question to you too.”
“You go first.” You crossed your arms across your chest and raised an eyebrow. “Uhh, Steve is almost the unofficial board member of our hospital, you getting what I mean. And well, a long time back he gave me a deal I couldn’t deny. So, I work for him.”
“Umm, what? Why did I have no idea about any of this?” Thor was very close to you. Hell, even Bucky liked Thor once. But then why had he kept all these secrets? “Thor, you know I’ve worked there for years, so why didn’t any of you even once think of telling me this?”
Thor lowered his head and looked around as if he was going to tell you some conspiracy, “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but Steve made sure you wouldn’t know of that. Also Steve was the one who submitted your resignation. I didn’t have any idea how he knew you, I still don’t.
But whatever it is, he cares too much about you. I think he loves you. He’s talked yo me about you a few times and I’m sure he has a thing for you. Don’t tell him I told you, he wouldn’t like that...”
“Well, I guess it’s too late for that.” Both your heads whipped around. Steve was standing right behind you on the couch and he was staring holes in Thor’s head. “I suppose you are late Mr. Odinson. It would be a pity to fire you.”
Thor left without another word, but he gave you a look of pity and worry. Before you could think further, you saw the change in Steve’s eyes as he looked at you. From a fire spitting dragon, he was suddenly a puppy who was caught red handed. “I can explain.” He said calmly as he walked towards you on the couch.
You didn’t need him explaining you, you had joined the dots. “I don’t need you to explaining me anything. I just want one answer; why? Why didn’t you tell me any of that before? And did you keep on paying me and just carried forward the pretense of me still having a job. Why did you make me resign without even asking me once?”
“To protect you. If you ever go back to that hospital Bucky will find you. And we don’t want that. I just want what’s best for you.” He had snatched away your pride and he was still behaving as if he was helping you.
The fact that you still had your job was the only normalcy you had. That hospital had become a safe space for you in all these years. “Steve, I need some space. I’ll be back before it’s night, I promise. I just need to go somewhere alone. And no, you aren’t going to send anyone to track me. I can take care of myself. Please.”
Before he could protest you walked away.
You went to the best place you could calm yourself. A place where you could indulge yourself in a fictional world without any worry; a library.
You took your comfort book and sat in the comfortable sofa. You were a few chapters deep when someone sat a little too close to you.
As you turned around, your blood turned cold and you wished you were still with Steve. He gave you a sweet smile, almost like when he was yours. And you gasped,
Warnings: little bit of Dark!Bucky and Dark!Steve, allusions to coercion
A/N: So, this was the first version of a fic I did for a request the other day, but I thought it wasn’t quite what they were asking for. Still, I love the little bit of darkness in these two, so I might end up making this a short series!
Fixing your blazer jacket, you took a deep breath before striding toward the imposing building. It didn’t matter if it was your first job or your fifth, the first day never got easier. Glancing up at the building, you stepped into the revolving door, ending up squished inside the compartment with someone else.
His arms came up to protect his phone in one hand and his coffee in the other. Feet twisting together, you caught of sparkling blue eyes before you tumbled out the other side. Bumping him in your path to the lobby floor, your gasp turned into a squeak of pain as hot coffee sloshed onto your shirt.
“Are you okay?” He tucked his phone into his pocket and offered you a hand up. You accepted, prying your eyes from his worried gaze, taking in a very handsome face. His hair was neatly gelled to the side and his stubble carefully maintained to look effortless.
“Yeah, just surprised, I think,” you grimaced. “I’m so sorry, that was completely my fault. Can I pay you for your coffee?”
He waved the idea away, “I was just as much at fault. Are you sure you’re-”
“I insist,” you argued, rifling through your bag, pulling out a crumpled five-dollar bill. “Did any of it get on your clothes?”
He laughed, the deep vibration warm and gruff, “Really, it’s fine. Keep your money.” He appraised you, “What’s your name? I’ve never seen you before.”
You introduced yourself, “Today’s my first day.”
He offered his hand, “Barnes. Call me Bucky.” He chuckled, “Normally I would say nice to meet you, but maybe now’s not the time.” He glanced at your coffee-soaked shirt, “You should probably get cleaned up.” You nodded and he smiled kindly, “I’ll see you around.”
He headed for the elevator and you bit you lip before slipping the five-dollar bill in his jacket pocket. In the bathroom, you tried to save your dress shirt, but the brown stain was stubborn. You abandoned hope of saving the shirt, drying it as much as possible beneath the hand drier and buttoning your jacket over the spot. It was a good thing you’d arrived a little early.
Returning to the lobby, you waited for Melinda, who was supposed to be giving you a tour, according to the receptionist. When the elevator pinged, a cute girl with blonde curls and a heart-shaped face stepped out.
“Welcome!” she chirped. “You must be Y/N. I’m Melinda.”
You smiled politely, “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m sure you’re ready to get started.” She led the way to the elevator, “I know the first day can be a lot, but you can ask me any questions you have.”
You glanced pensively at the elevator buttons, “Will we be touring all eight floors?” That was a lot of introductions.
She nodded, “Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes like to keep the workplace open. That means we’re allowed to visit other floors, socialize a little. We show the whole building so you get the chance to meet everyone and no one gets lost.”
You dimly heard her explanation over the faint buzzing in your ears; did she say Barnes? Had you spilled the CEO’s coffee before you’d even started working? Oh god. You’d put five dollars in his pocket.
You tried to push the humiliation from your thoughts as Melinda walked you around. In eight floors, it was possible there was another person named Barnes, right? He hadn’t acted like a CEO. You plastered a smile on your face as you were paraded around, even as the faces started to blend together.
At lunchtime, you politely declined Melinda’s offer of lunch in the breakroom, already set on getting some air. Before leaving you asked her, “Is there more than one Mr. Barnes working here?”
She looked confused, “Yeah, there’s one on the sixth floor and then the CEO. Why do you ask?”
“I bumped into someone this morning. I didn’t think it was the CEO, but I just wanted to make sure.”
She laughed, “Oh, that makes sense. That would be sort of a rough start to your first day.”
You thanked her and got in the elevator, eager to get outside. It was crowded full of people leaving for lunch and it had already been a long day. You were feeling tired and you still had half the building to tour.
Out in the lobby, someone spoke just behind you while you looked up a place for lunch, “Hi. You’re the new hire, right? Y/L/N?”
You turned around, surprised to find another stunning, blue-eyed man. His blonde hair was neatly coifed, falling over his forehead in a carefully executed swoop. You nodded dimly, hoping your mouth wasn’t open. You honestly weren’t even sure if he’d said your name, but you hoped he was talking to you.
“Yes, that’s me,” you replied, grateful that your voice didn’t waver.
He offered a hand, “Steve Rogers.”
“The CEO, right?” You were going to make sure this time.
He nodded, “C’mon, let’s get some lunch. My treat.”
You felt your cheeks warm, “Um, I was-”
“Don’t worry,” he urged smoothly. “It’s not a big deal. I just like to buy the new hires lunch on their first day.”
“O-okay,” you agreed nervously. This wasn’t exactly the relaxing lunch you’d been hoping for.
“Unless you don’t want company.” He pulled a fifty from his wallet, “I’ll still buy your lunch. For the sake of tradition.” Well, you couldn’t exactly say no now.
“Uh, that’s alright. Let’s go.”
He gestured to the revolving door to let you go first and your heart skipped; did he know about earlier? But he didn’t make any comments as he followed you out the door. He led the way to a little outdoor bistro and once you’d ordered, you felt better. He was very professional, polite and respectful. But not stuffy or proper; you didn’t feel like you were talking to a CEO.
Once lunch was over, you bid him farewell in the elevator, “Thank you for lunch Mr. Rogers.”
He flashed a charming smile, “Not a problem. And call me Steve. You know where to find me if you have any questions.”
You nodded before stepping out on the fifth floor, where you had agreed to meet Melinda after lunch. You felt more at ease after eating with Steve; he seemed easygoing and it was nice of him to buy his new hires lunch. Maybe you didn’t need to worry so much.
By the time you reached the sixth floor, you’d almost forgotten about the second Barnes. At least, until a round faced, blonde man introduced himself as Tim Barnes. Your lunch felt like a rock in your gut; you’d made a fool of yourself in front of one of the CEOs. And slipped him five dollars after he’d turned it down.
By the time you made it up to the eighth floor, you were sweating. You didn’t want to see him again, ever, if you could manage it. You were an office drone; how hard could it be not to run into the CEO? Ignoring the fact that you’d seen both of them today, you were sure it couldn’t be that difficult.
“You don’t have to show me the CEO’s office. I’m sure they’re busy,” you dragged your feet as Melinda led you to the elevator on the seventh floor.
“Of course I do. They always want to meet the new hires,” she said cheerfully, hitting the call button.
“I already met them, actually. Steve took me out for my ‘new hire’ lunch this afternoon.”
Her brow furrowed, “Steve? You mean Mr. Rogers?” You nodded and she chuckled nervously, “You should probably be a little more formal. And what do you mean ‘new hire’ lunch? You had lunch with Mr. Rogers?”
You were flabbergasted. He’d said it was tradition. But if that were the case, certainly Melinda would have at least heard of it. And did he not tell everyone to call him Steve?
“Maybe you’re confused,” she shook her head, leading you into the elevator as the doors opened.
The elevator ride was awkward. Melinda clearly thought you were nuts, in addition to being unprofessional. And now you were dreading seeing both of your bosses. You probably looked like such an idiot.
When the doors pinged open, you took a deep breath before following Melinda. She approached the assistant’s desk, just to the right of a fancy-looking door, labelled with gold name plates that read, ‘CEO,’ on top, then ‘James Barnes,’ and ‘Steve Rogers’ underneath.
“Hey Terry,” she greeted. “Just touring the new hire, this is Y/N.” You raised your hand in a meek ‘hello.’ “Is now an okay time to take her in?”
“They should be; they’ve only got one meeting scheduled at the very end of the day. But let me check.” Terry picked up the phone, cheerfully speaking into the receiver, “Do you both have a minute? New hire tour.” There was a pause, “Great, thank you!”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Melinda laughed.
“Go right in.”
Melinda marched ahead with you trailing behind like a puppy about to be scolded, “Good afternoon Mr. Barnes, Mr. Rogers. You’re the final stop on my tour with Y/N.” And there they were; both of the godly-looking men you’d made a fool of yourself in front of today.
It took you a moment to realize the odd setup of the room. There were two desks, one for each of them, but they were pushed together so the two men would be working side by side. You hadn’t considered how odd it was that they shared the office in the first place. But you had bigger problems than the eccentric workspace.
Mr. Barnes was the first to rise, sweeping around the desk to shake your hand, stunning you by acting like the coffee incident had never happened, “Y/N, we were wondering when you two would make it up here. How’s your first day been?”
“F-fine. I mean- good! Melinda was a great tour guide,” you stammered.
Mr. Rogers chuckled, rising from his own desk, “That’s good to hear. We know it can be a little overwhelming, meeting everyone in one day.”
“Yeah, I’m a little overwhelmed,” you chuckled darkly. That was putting it mildly.
The chatter was polite, the pair of them acting like perfect bosses. A meeting like this would usually be reassurance that this was going to be a good place to work, but you couldn’t shake the sense of unease. Had you made up your encounters with them today? There was no way.
Back in the elevator, Melinda tittered, “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
“Yeah, not bad,” you echoed, too confused to take the bait she was dangling. You remembered the office, “Are they- you know- together?”
She nodded, “Yeah, they’re married. You didn’t know that? That’s why it was so weird when you said you had lunch with Mr. Rogers. He almost never has lunch without Mr. Barnes. It’s pretty cute.” If they were married, why would Rogers lie to take you out for lunch?
She left you in your own cube on the fourth floor, giving you some time to set up your workstation and get comfy before the day ended. You settled into the desk chair, tacking up some photos before signing into your new computer.
Scrolling through your inbox, cluttered with welcome emails, your breath caught. From ‘Barnes, J.” with ‘Rogers, S.” copied, the subject line read, “New Hire Welcome Dinner.” Glancing over your shoulder, you opened the message, “Greetings Y/N, In celebration of your first day, we would like to formally invite you to the new hire welcome dinner. Please report to our office at 4:55PM to discuss the details further.”
A flare of indignation rushed through you; what was going on with these guys? You locked your computer and marched to the elevator, fuming the whole ride up. Terry was nowhere to be seen, so you stalked right in, not stopping to knock.
You crossed your arms, “What is going on here?”
“Y/N, you’re right on time,” Rogers said pleasantly, seeming not to notice your ire.
“Where do you want to go for your new hire dinner?” Barnes added.
“There is no new hire dinner,” you huffed. “Why are you guys messing with me?”
Barnes glanced up at you innocently, “We wouldn’t mess with you, doll.”
Your face grew hot again, “Then why did you act like we hadn’t met when I came in here with Melinda?”
“Well, we couldn’t exactly flirt with you in front of her, could we?” Rogers chuckled.
“W-what?” you sputtered. “Is that why you lied about taking me to lunch?”
“I didn’t lie, love,” he clarified.
“You said it was tradition!”
“It is! I always take the cute new hires that Bucky spills his coffee on to lunch on their first day. Starting today,” he shrugged.
Barnes snorted, “I told Steve I bumped into our lovely new hire this morning and he wanted to see for himself.” You fumed, but you couldn’t shake the slight feeling of being flattered. They both thought you were cute?
“And I thought it was unfair for me to get to take you out and not Bucky, so we thought we’d do dinner all together.”
“What makes you think I want to go to dinner with you?” you snapped, all too conscious of the rapid beat of your heart.
“Come on, doll,” Barnes urged. “Give us a chance.”
“You lied to me,” you protested. “And you’re my bosses!” That probably shouldn’t have been your secondary reason.
Rogers moved behind you, and you turned to watch him, “We’re sorry for lying, love. It won’t happen again.” Suddenly, his leg was between yours, pushing you back toward the desk, but you bumped into something tall and solid before you got there.
Your gasp was halfway out of your mouth when it turned to a moan. Rogers smirked and Barnes spoke in your ear, “But now that you know you belong to us, it won’t have to.”
Masterlist: Memories (Dark! Bucky Barnes x reader)
Summary: You were just one of the many victims of the Winter Soldier, and you fought desperately to erase that memory from your head. You thought you no longer had to deal with that killer who, for whatever reason, left you alive. Soon, you find yourself facing the same man who once threatened your existence. As you struggle to forget, Bucky instead tries to redeem himself for what he did and soon realizes he has a second chance, with you.
Summary: You were just one of the many victims of the Winter Soldier, and you fought desperately to erase that memory from your head. You thought you no longer had to deal with that killer who, for whatever reason, left you alive. Soon, you find yourself facing the same man who once threatened your existence. As you struggle to forget, Bucky instead tries to redeem himself for what he did and soon realizes he has a second chance, with you.
Warnings: anxiety, trauma. Other chapters will be darker, I'll put warnings in every single chapter for safety. This is going to get really dark. +18 only, no minors are allowed here. If you do not feel safe with these warnings, please DO NOT read. Please leave feedback. <3
⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟
You were still running, but the walls seemed to get tighter and tighter. The ceiling was covered in paintings, such a marvel you couldn't pay attention to. Ironic, isn't it?
Before, when you entered that building, you felt like a sense of peace to see all those beautiful details, the beauty of the architecture and the pillars that supported the structure. You found you were one of the few to truly appreciate what you thought was a work of art, while people passed indifferently by your side.
A second later, you heard a wall crack and gunshots. You only turned around for a few seconds, and saw a masked man with a metal arm. He had turned to you, just for a few seconds, but it was enough to get you to run.
You could hear the struggle of armed men trying to hold him back desperately, to defend themselves or at least to escape. You didn't care how it ended, but you could guess from the ceasing of their screams and quick steps. You felt immense pain in your legs and feet, mostly caused by work heels, as you continued running for your life.
You left your little black suitcase behind and started running for your life, heedless of all those little angels on the ceiling who now seemed to be turning their compassionate gaze to your little human figure. Because deep down, you were human. And that man, on the other hand, judging by his speed, was anything but human.
You screamed when you heard shots getting closer and closer. By now your vision was completely blurred with tears, but you couldn't stop, even when you risked stumbling absentmindedly. Then, you felt a bump, an almost unbearable pain in your back.
Your voice caught in your throat as your entire body was thrown towards a wooden door not far from you, the way you considered safe. You coughed, bringing your hand to your split lip and finally wiping the tears away as you watched the hellish scene ahead.
By now they were all gone and the same men who were alive not even 10 minutes ago and quietly talking, lay on the luxurious ground in their own blood. You started hyperventilating, then looking at the man in front of you. Those same blue eyes were staring at you, and they were terrifying. You've shrunk, crawling miserably to that same door and desperately trying to get away, even though you've come to the limit. Instead, he began to approach, keeping his gaze fixed on you. He was looking at you almost curiously, but you could better see the glacial glow in his eyes.
You could almost feel a mocking smile on his face, but looking back, how could such a man even have expressions? His footsteps became heavier and heavier and stopped right above your figure, dominated by his height. You stared at the gun he was still holding with wide eyes. And right after that, you looked down.
You never wanted your killer to be the last thing you ever saw. That moment was the demonstration of how terror could take your body and possess it. You waited for your death, only to see the crouching figure of him. He moved closer and you felt him handle with his mask, but you refused to look at him, already feeling his breath on your neck.
"Keep your head down, don't provoke him." you thought desperately, and so you did. On the other hand, he saw such a... obedient little thing. He should have killed you without hesitation, you had seen too much. But he knew that somehow you would never talk, he saw it from the way you desperately cared about your life, from the way you avoided him as if he were already part of your daily nightmares. He shook a lock of hair from your face, almost smiling at the way you visibly winced.
"Please..." you just muttered, feeling the pressure now crush your body. And he could feel it too, he could sense how your anxiety was able to crush your entire being: he knew it gave effect to people, like pure terror or chilling pain, but that went further. He was torturing you psychologically with the mere presence of him and he was enthralled. The soldier liked it, he liked you. He got up again and in that exact moment you thought he was going to finally kill you. All your dreams, your efforts, your memories, all erased. Then, finally, nothing came. Only his heavy footsteps go away as the police sirens got closer and closer.
That was three years ago.
A few months after that tragic event, which you never told anyone about, claiming that you hid in the room behind the wooden door, you started going to therapeutic sessions. There were constant nightmares, you saw those glacial eyes everywhere and you felt that sanity was slowly slipping away from your body.
You found yourself for the umpteenth night to keep your body studded with sobs. You had certain crises where you remembered, and you didn't want to remember, but you did it anyway: it was like an obsessive thought, you spent all day trying not to think about it, but then it reappeared.
His imposing figure reappeared, that thrill you had felt when you felt his breath on your neck, those eyes. You still remembered everything and just wanted to forget, and move on.
Apparently no one knew, no one knew him. Then, you reviewed it in a newspaper. It was then that you started dragging yourself up the stairs of your apartment building, desperately trying to contain the tears and sobs as the newspaper tumbled down the stairs. You had found his face on the front page, and you could recognize those eyes and that long hair everywhere. It was him, you knew that. You didn’t care about the old new reported or the article itself, the picture was just more than enough to let you down. He would finally come for you.
You have finally reached the door of your apartment, closing it quickly behind you. You inhaled slowly, then turned to the living room. It was all empty, as you had left it, every single thing. You tried to do one of the therapist's recommended exercises to calm you down, while you started to approach the window in the meantime. It was too cold, you had to close it.
Close it? You never opened it. You instantly froze in your footsteps, staring at the road ahead of you. You were a forgetful person and sometimes it happened that you forgot something, and that was why I had so many doubts about it: every time you thought that he had finally come to get you, to complete that puzzle of blood and murder. But every time nothing happened.
You tried to suppress the instinct that screamed desperately at you to trust you, but you knew better: you couldn't trust yourself, not anymore.
Your own mind was in his hands, but you were working on it. You had improved so much according to your therapist, you shouldn't have backed down now. With these thoughts you then shook your head, simply closing the window and deciding to make your favorite tea.
It would certainly have helped you.
You started humming your favorite song, trying to get back into the everyday sphere, in your comfort zone. Calm, relaxation and tranquility. You just needed that to recover, right? Yet those memories continued to bewitch your head, and there was nothing you could really do despite your best efforts.
You did not know, however, that you yourself had bewitched another mind, one that had not yet forgotten the fear imprinted on your half-covered face and your devastated body.
Bucky sighed, looking at the apartment building in front of him. He ran his hand, the flesh one, through her short hair, thinking what a bad idea it was. He simply wanted to disappear and instead he found himself living with several people in the same building. After all, however, it was the best choice, he knew it. Maybe he wouldn't have intrusive neighbors, maybe he could get a single miserable word out. Maybe, he could prove that he really was Bucky again.
He took a deep breath and walked with a single suitcase to the front door with the new keys, then watched the stairs. His apartment was 305. he remembered it was on the first floor, easy enough to reach. He began to walk and look at the numbers on the doors, placed in order.
The door suddenly swung open, and he saw a girl come out. Suddenly she tensed as she noticed how tense, almost terrified, she looked. Scared? Heck, she was going to go against her, maybe he was the one to take a hit. Well, maybe, if he was more... normal. She still looked upset when she finally looked at him and she promptly apologized, gesturing and talking about how she thought something had come. Something?
He just wanted to raise an eyebrow in response, but she couldn't shake off a strange feeling.
"Don't worry. I'm new here and, um... it looks like you're next to me. Pleased to meet you, I'm Bucky." he tried to seem as free as possible in speaking and to show one of his best expressions. He was trying, really, but there was something dead in your face. He then focused on your hesitant gaze, grabbing the hand he had gently given you.
It was only a second, but that touch somehow pushed him back. Without even noticing, he frowned and at your embarrassed smile he realized that he wasn't even paying attention to you for several minutes.
Great, he had already made an embarrassing figure. He cleared his throat, waving his hand briefly and walking past you without too many pretensions, then arriving at the door of his apartment.
Once inside, he locked himself in and leaned against the door, then closed his eyes and that frown reappeared.
Something seemed to be wrong with him, especially with you. Maybe you were in trouble and he could help you, even if he wasn't in the mood to babysit. However, after all it was a pretext to finally be able to start over, get to know at least one person, add a contact to his phone in addition to that of the psychologist who was obligatorily contacting and who followed him to constantly check his status.
He opened his eyes again, inhaling slowly and letting his muscles relax a little. Still, his mind couldn't move you.
On the other hand, your mind had a tender passion for details, especially those blue eyes. You heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, those same damned footsteps, and without thinking you headed out the door, throwing it open and looking down the halls. It was only after you turned around and almost tripped over the stranger, to whom you later apologized.
You were looking for him, you told him casually and only later did you realize your mistake. But it was as if his eyes had cleared up, as if he wasn't that brutal killer: yet he had those eyes, a different glow, but it was still him. It was impossible not to recognize that body and even if with short hair, your mind had a strange passion for details, which was why you had no doubts.
He hadn't spoken that day, so you couldn't tell if it was really him from the voice, but this time you were sure. Your whole body froze in place, but when you noticed his questioning look and that suspicion in his eyes, you decided to start your own game. A sort of hide and seek, because if he really remembered you he would have killed you instantly. He said his name was Bucky, but you remembered him as the Winter Soldier. This was for you, even in your nightmares, where he ended his mission.
When he left without too many pretexts, you released that great sigh filled with anguish that you were holding back. You stood in that corridor, eyes wide open.
You didn't know how or why, but he didn't remember you. You had noticed that trace of suspicion, but you had played well, maybe you were safe. Or maybe, this was going to be the start of a long game of cat and mouse.
Hi, do you know the bucky fic serie where he rapes the reader because he is jealous of how much time she spends with steve (steve is like a father figure.) i think she made a mistake on a mission so bucky holds that over her so he can take advantage of her body and tells her that if she doesnt he tell steve
Idk if I'm familiar with it, but there's a small part in my brain that feels like I've read something like that; I'm not too certain..
It might've been a one shot that I've read and not a series 🤔
I'm sorry I couldn't help you out 🙃 maybe anyone who sees this can.
Hi, do you know the bucky fic serie where he rapes the reader because he is jealous of how much time she spends with steve (steve is like a father figure.) i think she made a mistake on a mission so bucky holds that over her so he can take advantage of her body and tells her that if she doesnt he tell steve
TW: 18+ (always), pure gross fluff, like tooth rotting fluff, masturbation (I fucking hate that word I’m so sorry)
I do not give consent for my post to be posted on other sites
Cover photo was made by me, the divider is by firefly-graphics
A/N: So next chapter it’ll be switched to reader POV and I’m not sure how I’d like it. In all of my other fics when I’m in the reader’s POV I write in first person, but since the beginning was written in third person of Bucky, I’m not sure if I should continue that form of narrative. Please let me know your feedback. To address other feedback and questions I’ve gotten about Bucky’s intentions. Obviously, the winter soldier’s pov along with flashbacks are going to be dark, but it’s been asked if current Bucky will be dark. My answer to that is no, not on purpose at least. It’ll be a toxic relationship regardless. Not to mention the only real relationships he’s had were back in the ’40s, where misogyny was the norm. This chapter is pure fluff because y’all deserve it with the shit I’ve put you through. The song for this chapter is Material Girl by Madonna *linked below*
We kept to ourselves the rest of that day and the next two. The commotion caused was going to be faced with repercussions. If he kept her in here, she’d be his only. She didn’t want to leave either, she liked being alone with him, even if awkward silences took up most of their time together.
They’d spent all of their relationship in isolation, it’s all they’ve known to be with each other. But at least this isolation includes a kitchen, a nice bed, a TV, a bathtub, books, a balcony. She liked the balcony especially. It was incredibly small, but she spent most of her time there. She’d ask for paper and pencil and she’d stare out into the sky and draw. She wasn’t good at it, but it kept her happy, which is what mattered to him.
He’d often sit on the sofa, a book in hand or a computer trying to do his best to work from home, with the terrace sliding door left open as she sat on the wood staring out into the sky. He’d set a chair out there for her, but she always wanted to sit on the flooring, even if when she stood back up she had the outline on the wood slots embedded into the back of her thighs.
Bucky would catch her looking at him from time to time, the same way he’d look at her, in the belief it was all a mirage. She’d quickly turn her head, a blush tingling her cheeks in embarrassment.
He kept her in his clothes, the few articles of clothing they gave her didn’t fit. From time to time he’d get genuinely lightheaded at the vision she was. He felt territorial, despite no one else being around. At one point she’d grown tired of her position on the deck and moved to lay on her stomach to draw, her feet crossed behind her kicking gently. The peak of her ass from his boxer’s made him dizzy and he had to go take a shower and cum several times before he could even calm down. Or when the breeze would blow and the peaks of her breasts would point in response to the chill, and the same shower routine would pursue.
She took a lot of naps, not being on whatever drugs they fed her through her system being weaned out, occasionally making her sick too. When she’d go to lay down in his bed, the first time she had asked him in a mumbled whisper if he’d lay with her. He laid beside her till she fell asleep and didn’t dare to move as he was in bliss. It then became routine that if she said she was going to take a nap that he’d follow her without prompt and lay with her till she fell asleep and then snuck away to do work.
Bucky ignored the dozens of texts Steve had left him. He knew that Steve was trying to be helpful that morning, but the thought of his friend thinking he was capable of such things while he was under his own free will made his ears turn red. He regretted telling Steve the nitty-gritty details of their affair, but it had to be done. He couldn’t ignore his best friend forever, despite the strong petty trait he carried.
But on their third day of enjoying a new routine of normal, he got a call from Dr. Anna informing him that she had a cancellation and she wanted to see his doll, to check-in. When she woke up and guided her to get ready for something other than their own piece of paradise a scowl formed on her face. She was mainly upset she had to wear something besides his sweat pants and boxers and had to put on a bra.
She kept her back turned from the cracked bedroom door as she slid the sports bra she was given in the hospital over her frame. He felt guilty for feeling aroused at the thought, but the scars on her back from being whipped quickly made him snap back into the truth of this reality.
She was also rather mad that she had to brush her hair. She handed Bucky the hairbrush and turned her back from him. He didn’t need a cue to begin to brush her hair. “Сукин сын,” Son of a bitch. “There’s a head attached to my hair.” She groaned when he’d tug too hard.
“Don’t be a baby,” He teased with a smirk, watching her eyes roll in the mirror. He brushed her hair gentler till the knots were gone. “All done.”
“Thank you.” She murmured. Manners was something she was working on, that she didn’t have to tell someone to fuck off if they looked at her too long. She followed him into the kitchen to slide the tennis shoes on. He kneeled before her and tied the laces as she looked a bit confused at the undone knots.
“You tie it down once,” He instructed, showing the steps. “And then you make two bunny ears, and then tie them together.” He taught and she nodded at his instructions before he stood back up. “You ready to go?”
She only nodded gently, staring at the door with an anxious look in her eyes. “It’ll be okay I promise.” He soothed as he slid his one glove over his mechanical hand.
“Why do you wear only one glove?” She tilted her head, her Russian peaking through stronger than normal this morning.
He blushed. “It’s to, uh, cover my hand.”
“Why do you cover it? This one is a lot cooler than the old one.” She shook her head. “Plus you look weird with just one glove on.”
A slight laugh left his lips. “Fine, I won’t wear it. Happy?” He slid it off his hand, leaving it on the small kitchen table.
“You’re like my own little robot, plus I won’t look like the weird one when I’m with you.” She nodded with a smile.
He rolled his eyes, perching his sunglasses on the tip of his nose grabbing the door handle. “You’re a brat, you know that?” Her gentle bullying made him happy though, she was starting to become unraveled as a slave, and speak freely.
“So I’ve been told.” She stepped into the hallway and stood behind him as he locked the door. She took his hand immediately as soon as his hand left the numeric pad. He felt his ego inflate as she clung close to him.
Walking into the quaint office she was latched onto him tighter than before. The newer the environment the more scared she got. He whispered affirming words in her ear, now and again, watching the way she’d untense at his comforts.
As he checked her in he gave the receptionist the refugee given insurance card. When she was discharged from the hospital they gave her an insurance card, a prepaid phone, a bus pass, and some clothes. The embassy had become more equipped to deal with Avenger-related incidents, especially post blip. But it still worried him, a part of him wished he could’ve kept her under the radar, away from a government watch. Now they were going to have to go through with a pardon to be waived against every war crime, and an acquittal for everything that counted as a crime against humanity. But she was still a US citizen, she was never reported dead. Her loved ones refused to admit it, they kept it as an open missing person cold case even almost 40 years later.
Dr. Anna was quick to come out of her office upon their arrival. “Mr. Barnes, Y/N.” She greeted with a smile. “Why don’t you step into my office, Y/N.” She held her office door open.
His doll looked at him with an anxious glance at their requested separation. “It’ll be okay, I’ll be waiting out here the whole time.” He reassured with a nod of his head in the direction of the Doctor. She nodded in return before following Dr. Anna.
Bucky made comfort in a stiff office chair, taking a glance at the magazines. All of them with celebrity drama and this season’s trends for clothing and make-up. He recalled how his doll looked when he first met her. Her hair was in wild voluminous curls that were popular of the time but quickly faded once she was in captivity. She explained to him once that the outlandish was in style and the kind of hair was in vogue. The abundant makeup he once saw her in when he met her was also fashionable and she told him it was fun.
He dug his phone from his back pocket before scrolling through his very few contacts, before pressing on ‘Dr. Bruce Banner (Hulk)’.
Bucky began to type. ‘Hello, Dr. Banner. This is James Barnes, we work together and you’ve helped with the repair of my mechanic arm several times.’
A quick response beeped. ‘Yes, Bucky, I know who you are, you don’t have to introduce yourself every time you send a message. I have your number saved in my phone. How is Y/N?’
He felt flattered for a moment at the thought of him feeling important enough to be saved.
‘I was actually text messaging you to discuss her. I was wondering if you could find any more photos of how she looked back before she was taken. I think having her dress freely, or at least what used to be her standards will help her adjust.’
‘That’s actually really smart! I’ll pull up the files I can, and I’ll forward them to you when I find them.’
‘Thank you, I hope your day is good. Sincerely, Bucky Barnes.’
A hushed whisper from across the room drew his attention away from his phone. A small child, no more than 4, sitting in the waiting room talking to his mother as he pointed at Bucky’s uncovered hand.
“Johnathan, you do not point at people. Do you understand?” She scolded through gritted teeth before catching Bucky’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, he’s just a kid.” He sympathized. Kids were unfiltered, their comments more excusable. It’s the adults that made the same unapologetic notion that got under his skin. “Do you wanna come look at it?”
Bucky slid his jacket off before the kid fully abandoned his mother to run to the stranger’s arm. He extended the mechanical arm out fully in front of the kid, wiggling his fingers. “Isn’t it cool?”
The kid held a tight grip on his arm as he stared at each intricate ridge and detailing of the technology. “Johnathan, you can’t just grab people.” His mother sighed coming behind him, placing a deterring hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Bucky laughed at the kid’s enthusiasm.
“You’re a dad I’m guessing?” The mother chuckled, her embarrassment fading as her son kept on with his inspection.
Bucky cleared his throat a bit. “Uh, no, no, I’m just good with kids I guess.”
The opening of Dr. Anna’s office door, guiding his Doll out, made the kid let go of him. She tilted her head to the side in observation with a questioning smile.
“Thank you for letting him look, you’re very sweet.” The mother thanked him. “I’m sure I’ll be hearing about his excitement about it for the next few days.”
Bucky stood as his doll came gently in front of him. “You making friends?”
“Your boyfrien’ has a rwelly cool arm!” The kid babbled and his girl blushed.
“He’s not- um, thank you.” She stuttered, grabbing him by his bicep before pulling herself close to him.
“It was nice to meet you, Johnathan.” Bucky waved goodbye to the boy and his mother as the doctor called on her and her son.
“C-Can we go home now?” She asked, her voice wobbly as he led them out to the parking garage.
“Actually,” Bucky unlocked his car and held the door wide for her to get inside. “We gotta’ make a stop.”
She looked defeated, wringing her hands out in her lap. “It’s a fun stop, I promise.”
She sighed before mumbling a simple, “okay.”
She clutched on tightly to his hand as they walked into the empty mall. He was glad that it was a weekday afternoon, so the deadest time for the mall. But her curiosity loomed around each brightly colored loud storefront.
“I don’t understand…” She furrowed her brows as she looked around.
“As much as I love seeing you in my clothes,” He smiled as he gently guided her into a store. “You do need your own clothes, plus it’s gonna make you feel better to style yourself.”
“Hey guys, welcome in. Are you looking for anything in particular today?” The tall sales associate greeted them as they walked in the door. His doll stiffened up ready for a fight as if this person was a threat. He squeezed her hand back gently.
“Yeah, her house just burned down. So this is the only outfit she has. I need you guys to set her up with a wardrobe, anything she wants.” Bucky lied, she turned to him confused. “So if you wanna help her pick out some outfits, that’d be perfect.”
“Oh, I am just so sorry, honey. Let’s get you set up.” The sweet worker took a soft hand to her shoulder to guide her towards the women’s clothes.
Bucky sat on the bench in the front of the store before pulling out his phone. His eyes would occasionally catch her as she was waltzed around the store with the worker guiding them.
He swiped the notification of a photo forwarded to his email.
‘From Bruce: I hope this helps, it was just what I could find for the time being. But I’ll be able to find some more in the next few days.’
The doctor forwarded four photos. All of her in different outfits, outlandish makeup, and big hair. He saved all the pictures to his own device.
The first photo was the one he’d seen from her missing poster, sitting in a swimsuit under a brightly colored umbrella with her feet dug in the sand.
One was of her drinking a beer leaning against the hood of a race car #23, a baggy black cargo jumpsuit on her body with two other men leaning beside her also drinking in celebration.
Another was her in acid-washed short shorts, a t-shirt that said ‘Mötley Crüe’, her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail but her large curls were still evident.
The fourth was her in at some party, she wore knee-high black boots and a tight red plaid dress, and it made his heart palpitate. He made that final one his screensaver.
Scanning through the shopping racks he eventually caught up to the two girls. “I found some pictures of how she used to dress...Before the fire.” He held the phone up to the associate and she scrolled through.
“Oh, so very retro and vintage aesthetic. I love it! That style is definitely coming back into fashion.” The saleswoman cheered at her new assignment.
When they left the store with too many shopping bags to carry, she had a silly smile on her face. Regardless of the decade, pay for a women’s shopping spree and they’ll be happy as a clam.
“Bucky?” The B bounced off of her lips. “How can you afford all this?”
“Well,” He chuckled in pride as they made to his way to the car, shuffling her bags into his back seat like a game of Tetris. “Turns out, I count as a disabled veteran, so I get military benefits. Plus, I’m on retainer with Stark Industries, surprisingly.” He opened the door wide for her to slide in.
“Well, if I would’ve known you were rich I would’ve asked for a pony too.” She chuckled as he buckled her in her seat.
“I’m not rich rich, I get money and I live in the compound and I don’t really spend any of it. It’s just been sitting there waiting for some fun.” He objected, swerving the car out of its spot.
She fiddled with the radio stations as they made it onto the highway. His hand found place on her thigh and it fit so perfectly as she finally settled on an oldies station. “Are we going home?”
“I thought you were wanting a pony?” He bantered and she giggled at his cheesy jokes. “Just gotta make one more stop.”
She said ‘our home’
Bucky’s heart felt warm as he followed the GPS direction off an exit and into a shopping center.
“What is this place, Bucky?” She observed another large unfamiliar storefront.
He didn’t respond as he took her hand to lead her inside.
“Hey guys, welcome in. Are you guys looking for anything today?” The new associate spurred on a similar speech as every other shop.
“Yes, she needs everything she’d need for makeup and hair products.” He urged, using his palm on the small of her back to guide her closer to the associate. “She lived on a houseboat, and then it flooded and a shark got in and destroyed everything she owned.”
“What?” The associate asked with a confused look of disbelief in her eye.
“Anything she needs to do her makeup. Oh and the stuff that makes your hair curly.” Bucky instructed. “I can stay by these benches, just let me know when you’re all done.”
He watched her strut around the store with the other workers, gathering baskets of products. A glam squad following them, showing her different products and gadgets. She looked both scared and excited. At all the options and possibilities. She looked alive.
She was killing him right now. In this moment he couldn’t think of any other torture method as horrible as this one. Back at his place, she made him sit on the couch as she tried on all of her clothes like it was a fashion show. Her prancing around in tight mode revealing clothes was giving him heart palpitations.
He wanted to give in to his own rules and take her in his bed. He wanted to listen to her moaning his name, his real name this time, as his head was buried in her thighs. He wanted to enjoy her for the first time without any lurking eyes.
“How much longer is this gonna take, doll?” He groaned from the couch as she changed into her next outfit. His fingers were digging into the soft material of the sofa as he tried to list every single gun he knew and how to clean them. anything to get his mind off her parade.
“Last one I promise!” She giggled as she walked from his bedroom aka her dressing room. “What do you think?”
His jaw was cartoonishly dropped to the floor along with every firearm manufacturer he knew. “You...you look…”
A tight black dress that came to mid-thigh hugged her figure. He wanted to run his hands over its sleek material. He was dreaming about rolling the dress up to around her waist before spreading her legs and fu-
“Earth to bucky?” She snapped her fingers at his dazed delay. “Is it a good silence or a bad silence?”
“So fuckin’ good, baby.” He groaned with a breathy moan. Her cheeks pinched pink very quickly at his feral body language.
“Oh t-thank you, Bucky.” She gave him a nervous smile before shuffling back into his room to change into a new pair of comfortable clothes. A T-shirt and a tight pair of leggings that made him sweat to look at.
As she left his room she walked back over to the couch, her hip knocking a bottle of water off of the coffee table. “Oops!” She giggled as she bent down to pick it up. The image of her ass through the tight material where he could see the outline of the new underwear he bought her.
“I-I’m Gonna go to take a shower.” He stuttered, jumping to his feet. He scurried around to the bathroom slamming the door shut behind him.
Sliding the shower on, he quickly rid himself of his pants. Spitting in his palm, he began to fuck his fist. God was he thankful the shower covered any pitiful panting noises he was letting out.
He thought of how few layers there were between her pussy to the outside of her leggings. How if ran his finger down the inseam of the crotch he would probably be able to feel her cunt throb.
Porn had definitely changed him and his sexual appetite. His hunger was easily understood into categories on each site. So much of it was so fascinating, different fetishes, different people. All of it was new and he spent a lot of time watching as if it was Animal Planet. It opened doors in his mind and let in all sorts of obscene monsters.
He wanted to taste her pussy so badly, he wanted to have her bent over the arm of the couch, spreading her ass for him while he licked both of her holes like a mad man. Listen to her whimper and moan in overstimulation. He tried to dig up every blurry memory of destroying her below him as he reached his peak.
A specific time he often recalled. After a rather daunting task when he came back there was more soldier left in him than normal. He craved control. She was the only time he could have it, the only time he wasn’t a puppet. She was his little toy that he got to be in charge of. So her resistance eventually let go of her body and let him fuck her till she was brain dead.
He could feel his cock reach her limit as she whimpered in pain each time his cock would come in contact with her cervix. It felt so good. To be so deep inside of her that if she wasn’t already pregnant at the time she definitely was after that.
He choked on a moan as his load painted against the shower wall. His heart rate lowered at each moment no longer sounding or feeling like an old motorcycle running on a hot summer day.
“Are you okay?” She murmured as he stepped out of the bathroom. “Was I boring you that much?”
“No, no you’re fine. You’re excited, I want you to be excited.” He encouraged with a twinge of guilt in his voice. She thought he ran to the shower because he was bored, in reality, he couldn’t stand being that close to her without tearing off her clothes.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She stood to her feet and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m gonna clean up all my clothes mess.” She blushed as she swiftly scurried back into the bedroom like a nervous little kid on the playground who just told their crush they liked them.
Bucky went dizzy again; this woman was going to be the death of him. His own blush made hers look pale in comparison. He quickly began to make dinner, giving a chance to occupy himself because if he tried to take another shower it would definitely raise suspicion.
She then stepped from the bedroom and was back to wearing his clothes. Out of the piles of clothes she got today, she still chose his shirt, his clothes. She switched out of the shirt she had on into one of his. She examined his expression trying to decipher whether he was upset by her costume change. His heart warmed at the sight of her and the way the apple of her cheeks blossomed with a deep crimson.
“Bucky?” She bit her lip in anticipation and needed courage for what she was wanting to ask. “Can I see those pictures of me?”
“Fuck,” She grunted. “I don’t remember it being this hard.” She dragged the now colorfully stained makeup wipe across her face cleaning its canvas. “I did it so well in the pictures, why is it so difficult?”
He smiled at her adorable impatience as he washed the last of the dishes they used during dinner. “Just keep practicing, it’ll be like riding a bike.”
“Why is it so hard to do on myself?” She stammered as she scrolled through the pictures of herself once more. “Would you help me?”
He dried his hands on the towel that hung on the handle of the stove. “I can guarantee you’re doing a hell of a lot better than I would.”
“Please Bucky,” She pouted cartoonishly sticking her bottom lip out. “Let me practice on you please?”
He sighed loudly as he plopped down on the couch beside her and her makeup mountain. “I don’t know doll, I’m sure it’ll get better if you keep practicing on yourself.”
She whimpered in frustration before gathering her things and crawling over his lap. His large hands gripped at her waist in surprise. “What-”
“I can’t do your makeup if I'm on the other side of the couch, silly.” She dragged her stuff beside them and he groaned in agitation. “You said yourself that I needed to practice.”
“I didn’t realize that was me volunteering myself out like that.” Bucky nagged as she roughly moved his face around in the direction she needed. “You’re gonna break my neck like that.”
“Don’t be such a big baby. Thought you were big strong Avenger.” She teased as she glided the gentle brushes against his cheeks.
“Is this really necessary, doll?” He huffed, his hands enjoying their occupancy on her waist.
“Shut up, I’m almost done, and if you smudged it I’ll bite you and start over.” She turned his head to the left and his perpetual groaning beat against her face. “And look at this, I’m done!”
“You better have made me really pretty.” Bucky rolled his eyes.
“Take a look, big cry baby.” She passed him the handheld mirror beside the makeup pile.
Bucky made a face of surprise at his reaction. “I won’t lie. I look kind of good.”
“Thank you for letting me practice.” She giggled as she stepped off his lap, stretching her legs in the process.
“You’re welcome,” He glanced at himself in the mirror once more. “Now get this shit off my face.”
A/N: this chapter was super funny to write as a makeup artist! I’m sorry this took for ever a bitch got depression. Also I’m bad at fluff bc all my writing is very emotionally driven. But anyway let me know how you’d prefer her POV written like I spoke about in the first a/n. Also I really fuckin hate writing y/n and I will avoid it at all costs like you can probably tell by now.
Taglist is open! Give me feed back so I feel encouraged to write