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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years

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Unexpected Salvation || Mafia!Bucky Barnes

Summary: Betrothed to an abusive mafia crime lord, Brock Rumlow, you can only dream of escaping his violent tendencies. On your wedding day you find yourself helpless and hopeless - until Bucky arrives. A crime lord himself, Bucky was no saint but to you he was suddenly a guardian Angel and you saw your path to freedom. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, physically abused reader, suicidal thoughts, domestic violence, mentions of violence, weapons and murder, unprotected sex, oral (f rec) WC: 8.1k

Bucky Masterlist

This was supposed to be the day that every woman dreamed about and no expense had been spared. The billowing layers of ivory satin and tulle swayed around your legs with every careful step you took, the soft swishing sound only interrupted by the heels tapping on the polished concrete floors.

Your father waited expectantly. His lips were pressed in a harsh line as he held his hand out, beckoning you to take your place at his side even if it was only going to be for a few moments. This was not how you imagined your wedding would be.

The whale bone corset did more than restrict your access to air, it restricted your ability to move. It was another pretty shackle that had been strapped to you, just like the stiletto heels and heavy wedding gown - everything was designed to stop you from escaping.

“Father, please, I can’t do this,” you whispered as he hooked you to his side and pinned you with a cold stare that froze any further pleas.

“You can and you will,” he growled under his breath. “Rumlow is the most powerful man in this State and this marriage will make our family name great again. So, be a dutiful wife and don’t fuck this up.”

You swallowed the sob that clawed at your throat and prayed for salvation as music filled the air, the wedding march. The corset bodice had contorted your body into what was deemed desirable to Brock, but it was a mockery of who you were. The strangers who dressed you had not hidden their laughter as they pushed and pulled at your skin, shoving your breasts high up your chest and pulling at your waist until it bowed into a painful curve. In this dress, you didn’t recognise yourself - maybe that was the only salvation that there was.

Heavy doors swung open and you nearly collapsed at the sound of the hinges groaning with a final plea bursting from your lips. You looked to your father but for the first time in your life you saw fear reflected in his eyes and you cast your eyes ahead to find the doors to the church still shut, your condemnation sealed on the other side.

Dead, brown leaves drifted past your feet on a phantom breeze and you teetered on the heels as you spun around to find the grand doors that lead to the pebblestone driveway wide open. The sunlight streaming in blinded your vision to the man filling the doorway but you could tell from your fathers reaction he was not a welcome guest. A flick of his wrist gave a signal and more men streamed in, this time there was no mistaking who it was. There was only one rival brave enough to interrupt Brock Rumlow’s wedding day.

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

There was no time to think as he stepped closer and you saw the halo of light around his head. This was your salvation, he was the angel sent to save you or maybe he was just another devil in a Versace suit.

Your father sensed the change in you and tried to reach for your arm but the horse had already bolted and you were racing across the foyer. Blue eyes widened imperceptibly as you gathered your skirts and ran for him, praying the heels didn’t snap your ankles. Guns were drawn around him but Bucky splayed his hand out, stilling the fingers pressed to the triggers and turning their aim away from you, to your father.

You crashed into his broad chest and his arms encircled you, tucking you into his side and away from the man who had raised you, the man now screaming for Brock’s men that were waiting inside the church.

“Take me with you, please,” you begged as you fisted his expensive suit.

Bucky may have been as much a criminal as Brock but rumour was that he had a moral code when it came to who he killed - no women, no children. You were willing to bet your life on that rumour.

Bucky stared down at you with cold, calculating eyes before he nodded and cast his arm protectively over your shoulders, “Let’s go.”

Your fathers shouts echoed after you and a small crack cleaved in your chest as he shouted at Bucky to give you back. You tried to believe that it was a final gift from father to daughter, that he made it seem like you were being kidnapped, but in your heart of hearts you knew the truth - he was doing what he did best and only protecting himself.

Blacked out Escalades were idling in the drive and Bucky quickly bundled you into the back of one, slamming the door shut before the quiet pings of silenced shots cracked the glass beside your head. You screamed before slamming a hand over your mouth and slid to the floor as the engine roared and pebbles scattered behind the skidding tires.

“You’ll be safer up here with a seatbelt on,” Bucky said with a small amused smirk playing on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s bulletproof.”

You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and crawled out of the sea of fabric as panic began to swell in your chest. Every breath burned your airway and you couldn’t fill your lungs with the corset constricting your ribcage. A fine sheen of sweat broke out across your skin and you tried to tear through the layers as you tried to get back to your own body.

“Hold still,” Bucky ordered with a commanding voice that gripped you in its snare. His hand disappeared into his suit jacket and pulled out a flick knife, the blade jumping forth before it was aimed at you and he repeated the command. “Don’t move.”

You gasped at the cold touch of the blade against your skin and readied yourself for the pain but it didn’t come. Fabric was torn and ribbons sliced and suddenly you could breathe.

“I couldn’t do it,” you whimpered between the gasping intakes of air that refilled your lungs to the brim. “I couldn’t marry him.”

A warm hand caught your jaw and slowly turned you away from the blur of the world passing by, right into the path of the bluest eyes you had ever seen. “You are going to hyperventilate if you don’t slow your breathing.”

“I. Can’t.” You tried but all you could think about was the look on your fathers face, the betrayal you saw when you looked back. Then the fear began to grow, the fear of what Brock would do if he took you back. “I can’t breathe.”

“You can,” Bucky argued, his hand sliding along your jaw so he could remove the diamond drop earring then did the same with the other. He tossed the expensive pair into the cargo space, atop the mass of fabric he had cut from the dress. “Let go of that fear, doll. You’re safe now.”

“Am I?” His fingers danced around your throat and he frowned as he felt your body tremble beneath his touch, retracting his hands as soon as the diamond and ruby necklace was unclasped. You exhaled the breath you had been holding when he leaned back and you saw those inquisitive eyes asking questions you weren’t ready to answer.

“Yes,” he said quietly as he mindlessly spun a signet ring around his finger, “I won’t hurt you.”

Though you had no reason to, you believed him. You felt safe and he had been nothing but helpful so your rapidly beating heart began to slow. The months of nights spent lying awake and planning an escape finally caught up with you as the SUV sped to some unknown destination and you found your head coming to rest on Bucky’s shoulder as your eyes fluttered shut.

Of all of your plans to run away, this had never been one. You had wanted to escape the mafia but somehow you had run from one boss and right into the arms of another. Strong arms. Very strong arms and blue eyes.

The scent on the pillow immediately told you this was his room, his bed. It was the same calming scent that had lulled you to sleep on the drive here, wherever here was. You didn’t really care, you were just grateful it was anywhere Brock wasn’t.

A smile grew on your face at the thought of the tantrum Brock would probably still be throwing but it quickly dimmed when you realised there were probably a lot of people getting hurt because of it. Brock’s temper was the thing of nightmares and you had been on the receiving end of it enough times to pity those who had to deal with him this time.

You rose from the bed and looked at the tattered remains of the wedding dress in the full length mirror, it looked like something out of a Tim Burton film. You tore what little remained away and kicked it away only to shudder at the new reflection.

Swollen purple bruises littered your skin and left your stomach turning as you slipped into the closet needing to hide his violent touch. Brock was strategic in where to leave his marks, places only a lover would find them. It was just another way to control your life.

Expensive suits and dress shirts hung neatly along the closet walls so you walked further into the room until you found something a little more casual. You were finally successful in finding a plain t-shirt that covered enough skin but you could still tell from how soft the fabric was that it was no less expensive than the rest of Bucky’s clothing.

You wondered where the jewellery was that Bucky had taken off you as you slipped down the stairs to the main floor, following the deep voices. He didn’t need the money from pawning them off but you certainly would if you planned to make a life outside of the mafia. You would ask him at some point, but for now you wanted to know exactly who Bucky was, the type of man he was.

“Well, that didn’t go to plan.” Steve took a seat and sipped his whiskey before he spoke again, “That asshole is still alive and everyone thinks you kidnap women now.”

Bucky huffed a laugh and dropped into his own seat, swirling his own drink around the crystal tumbler as he pondered the turn of events. “It could work in our favour, it certainly sends a statement.”

“Buck, I have never questioned your orders-”

“Please don’t start now,” Bucky interrupted before he rolled his eyes and tipped his head back, waving his hand to let Steve finish.

“That woman asleep in your bed is going to be more trouble than she is worth. He’s going to come for her.”

Bucky’s lips twitched and Steve heard the words that went unsaid, ‘I know’.

“Did you plan this?”

“No,” Bucky admitted as he reached over to the cigar box on the side table. “But I wish I had thought of it. Do you know what his investors will be thinking - the great Brock Rumlow can’t even protect his own wife. They will question his capability.”

“I am not his wife and I never will be,” you vowed with absolute certainty, appearing barefoot in the doorway. “I will die before facing that fate.”

Bucky took your seething words in stride, closing the cigar box and curling his finger to beckon you into the room before patting the cushion beside him. You hadn’t felt threatened by him or any of his men since they saved you so you had no reason to distrust him and quickly crossed the room.

His smile disarmed you as you sat beside him and he trailed his fingertips lazily across the hem of his shirt riding high on your thighs. “After that display of courage today I am inclined to believe you. Not many women would run towards armed strangers.”

“When life gives you lemons,” you murmured, ignoring the heat that was quickly spreading beneath his light touch.

His deep laugh blew warm air across your neck as he leant in closer and spoke with a soft intimacy that shouldn’t have been heard outside the bedroom. “Is that what I am? Lemonade?”

“I guess that depends on how sweet you are.” The sassy words flowed from your tongue unconsciously but the moment they were voiced you bowed your head and murmured an apology.

“It’s late, Steve, go home. I’ll see you in the morning.” Quiet footsteps retreated from the room followed by the definitive click of the door shutting behind him. Your pulse thrummed like a hummingbird as you screwed your eyes shut and waited for the sharp burn of a slap to heat your skin. But it didn’t come. “Open your eyes.”

It took a moment to gather the courage before you could open them and face your punishment. Blinking twice, you were certain your eyes were deceiving you as you saw pity instead of rage, and Bucky reached out slowly to graze the back of his knuckles across your cheeks.

“What did he do to you?” Those azure eyes of his seemed to shred through your physical being and see the broken soul that lay beneath. The intensity of his stare drew tears to the surface, blurring your vision as they erased the composure you had bitterly fought to hold. “I’ll kill him.”

He thumbed away the tears that escaped down your cheeks but more replaced them as you shook your head. “You can’t kill him.”

Bucky smiled darkly, his lips so close to your skin as he whispered his secret in your ear, “He doesn’t know it, doll, but he’s already dead.”

“He has half a dozen men with him at all times, his house practically has an army surrounding it and they monitor the surveillance cameras 24/7.” You sighed and looked away to hide the bitter disappointment written on your face. “Trust me, he’s impossible to kill.”

“He bleeds red just like you and I, so he can die just the same.” Bucky rose from the seat and offered you his hand. “It’s late, we can talk more in the morning.”

You stared at his hand a moment before looking up at Bucky and asking the question that had been building since he sequestered you away from the church. “Why are you doing this for me?”

“A man of my position can hardly be called altruistic, but the way you looked at me today…I wanted to be worth that look of hope.”

He wiggled his fingers and you placed yours on them, letting him pull you from the couch and against his chest. He dipped his head and quickly kissed the racing pulse in your neck, so fast you could have almost imagined it. He stepped back and let his lips curve into a playful smile that had you press your toes into the carpet to stop them curling. “Plus, I couldn’t stand to see a beautiful woman in such a hideous dress.”

You covered your face with an embarrassed laugh while you nodded in agreement. “I know, it was criminal how bad it was. Thank you for tearing it off me.”

He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and your stomach clenched at the mischievous glint in his eyes as he bowed. “I am humbly at your service.”

It was hard to believe that this man was the head of the Romanian mafia in New York, he was just so different to Brock. He made you smile. “I’m not sure you know the meaning of humble.”

You were struck again by that warm laugh of his as he led the way from the room and up the stairs. Although the house was huge and there were a handful of closed doors along the hall that likely hid ornate guest bedrooms, Bucky opened his and ushered you through. Your eyes darted to the bed, still messy from where you had slept between the sheets, and Bucky smirked as he began to remove the cufflinks on his shirt.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t do anything you don’t ask me to,” he said.

You couldn’t look away as he took his shirt off and you saw every inch of that hard muscle you had crashed into, the tanned expanse of his skin sculpted like the depiction of gods you had seen in a museum. The dark curls that trickled down the centre of his chest teased a line that disappeared below the belt that he was unbuckling and you tore yourself away, ignoring the chuckle that followed you.

“You can look, I don’t mind.”

The belt landed beside you on the loveseat and you flinched at the sight, twisting away to find Bucky frozen. He looked back at the belt with narrowed eyes and cursed under his breath before swiping it up and tossing it to the back of his closet and running his hands roughly through his hair. He tugged the ends with barely controlled rage but dropped them to his side when he saw your wary step towards the door.

“I’m not going to hurt you, doll,” he said gently.

You looked at the rug on the floor and focused on how the bright colours came together to form the beautiful design as you spoke, “You are angry.”

“Yes, but not at you.” Bucky sat on the edge of his bed, his tall frame no longer so imposing. “My mother had a boyfriend who…he was cruel and a sick piece of shit. I was young, too young to do anything to stop him and one night he just didn’t stop.”

His eyes looked straight ahead but you had stared into the past enough times to know where he truly was. You weren’t even sure if he noticed when you took a seat beside him and placed your hand in his, your thumb caressing his with a comfort you wished someone had given you.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” you whispered.

“I killed him. Took everything that was his, all of this, and I killed him,” Bucky said with a catch in his voice that he cleared before turning to you. “I’m going to hell for an infinite number of sins but killing him isn’t one, and neither will be watching the life bleed from Brock fucking Rumlow’s eyes when I gut him for what he did.”

For the first time in your life you didn’t shirk at the threat of violence, your hands didn’t shake and your skin wasn’t clammy. The small voice in your head that had abandoned you when Brock first laid his hands on you whispered that Bucky was different, that after watching his mother’s assault he would never turn his anger on you, and you believed it. And that thought scared you more than anything.

Bucky watched you silently, as if he could see every thought passing through your mind and saw the moment you needed a distraction from your own mind. “Big spoon or little spoon?”

You frowned as your thoughts were derailed and you blinked his handsome face back into focus. “Spoon?”

Bucky shrugged casually. “I’m a sleep spooner. So, which would you rather be?”

“I don’t even know what that means. Are you propositioning me?”

Bucky laughed before sobering up when you remained serious, then that scowl of his that you had come to notice only appeared when he thought about Brock. “Motherfucker.” Bucky stood up and kicked his trousers off before pulling the sheets back. “Hop in, sweetheart, let me show you what you’re missing.”

You stared at the space he offered beside him and wondered what he was really asking of you. Was this a ploy to use you? Brock had used sex as a means of blackmail and to undermine not just you but the wives of his officers. Could it be a trait shared among the bosses?

“Spooning isn’t a sex position, if that’s the reason you’re looking at me like that. I mean, it could be, but only if you ask nicely.”

The teasing smile eased your mind and you climbed into the space beside him. His body curled against you and his scent enveloped you in a comforting cocoon, even when your spine stiffened at the proximity.

“Roll onto your side, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured as he gently pushed you away. You did as you were told and turned away but the shirt shifted and slipped over the curve of your hip, baring the result of Brock’s violent touch. You tried to grasp at the hem as panic and shame swelled in your chest but it was too late, Bucky caught your wrist and moved it away.

His touch was hesitant but gentle as he brushed his fingertips over the swollen, bruised skin. The tenderness was a juxtaposition to Brock’s savage sadism and a wave of fresh tears filled your eyes as you experienced kindness. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt it.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Bucky murmured softly as he brushed your shirt higher. “None of this is your fault, no matter what that sick bastard has told you.”

You buried your face in the pillow as you heard the words you had tried to cling to in the early days. But months into being Brock’s personal toy, to play with as he pleased, made you think you must have done something to deserve such a fate.

“Tell me to stop, and I will stop.” Bucky’s fingers trailed higher, taking your shirt with them. “No hesitation, no question, no repercussions.”

The word danced on your tongue but you bit it as his thumbs drew soft shapes along the canvas that had been ruined. You weren’t sure when you would feel a gentle touch again so you were going to savour the moment, even if it only lasted one night. “Don’t stop.”

Your body was still stiff and tense, the muscle memory struggling to differentiate the feel of his hands on your skin as it waited for the pain to begin.

“Some of these are old, weeks,” Bucky muttered to himself as he shifted down the bed and rolled you onto your back, looking between the different shades of bruises. “Did your father know that this has been happening?”

“He knew enough to ensure Brock couldn’t use a knife or flame.” It was meant to keep you safer, or at least not permanently maimed, but the restrictions only made Brock angrier. He spent that anger in the only currency he could, with his fist. “Beyond that, I don’t think he cared. The only thing he cares about is money and power.”

“Do you want me to kill him too?” There was no judgement in his eyes as he waited for an answer, he was probably planning it from the moment he stepped into the church, but he was giving you the option. The choice was entirely yours, but you weren’t sure if you had the stomach to give him the answer and he saw your hesitation. “Whenever you are ready, just say the words.”

You bobbed your head, not trusting your voice when you could feel the lump of emotion stuck in your throat.

The tension in your body began to ease as you grew accustomed to the soft, teasing touches of his fingertips and when he brushed his lips over the tender skin across your ribs you actually moaned. The sound was so foreign it took a moment to realise that it came from your lips.

Bucky peeped up from under thick lashes and he smiled at the sound, moving to kiss another bruise as if his lips could erase the memory of Brock from you entirely. “I wonder what other sweet sounds those pretty lips can make,” he mused aloud.

Your head was spinning as you melted beneath him and after he pulled his shirt off you, tossing it to the floor, you made no move to stop him from removing your lace panties. You intrinsically knew if you asked him, he would stop - you were letting him show you how pleasurable touch could be.

Compliments fell from his lips that devoured every inch of you and his blue eyes bled to black as his pupils exploded when he saw your nipples peaked and begging for his tongue. Your back arched with a cry when he took one in his mouth, licking and sucking at the sensitive nub before he gently grazed his teeth over it.

“Bucky, please,” you begged as you buried your fingers in his dark hair, needing more of the ecstasy he was giving you.

More than willing, Bucky moved between your legs and pressed his erection against your core. A throaty moan purred from you and you wrapped your legs around his hips, grinding yourself shamelessly and finding the only barrier stopping you from what you wanted was the thin pair of boxers he still wore.

“Tell me what you want, doll.” Bucky whispered between the kisses he trailed up the column of your neck and towards your parted lips.

“Everything,” you moaned. “Show me everything.”

Two Weeks Later

“Rumlow’s got every one of his men out looking for her, poking their head in our business, asking about a ransom. They are starting to cause some real problems, for not just us, but the Cartel too.” Steve looked wary as he sat in his usual seat. “Tell me you have a plan.”

“I have a plan,” Bucky said, running his thumb across his bottom lip with a dark smile. “I need you to get a message to Brock, if he wants a ransom then he can have it.”

Steve pulled his phone from his pocket to reach out to the contacts that would get the message across but frowned before he could hit the call. “How much?”

Bucky shrugged and made his way to the door. “Pick a number, it doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Steve asked but Bucky didn’t answer, he was already heading back up the stairs where you were still sleeping soundly.

A warm arm curled around your waist and you smiled as you woke to a pair of cerulean eyes watching you. You no longer startled awake, not after the first few mornings of waking in Bucky’s arms. You still occasionally jumped at an unexpected touch but even that reflex was beginning to be controlled. You were healing.

“I want to take you out, go shopping, have dinner, do whatever you want.” Bucky said as he pulled you against his chest and rested his head on yours.

“I do too,” you whispered. It was a nice dream but the reality was you would never have that freedom so long as Brock was alive and looking for you.

“I’m going to take you out, sweetheart. I just need you to trust me first.”

You tipped your head back to see him with a faraway look in his eyes, stroking his short beard to draw his attention away from that calculating place it had gone to. “I do trust you, Bucky, more than I have ever trusted anyone. I know you do bad things, I’m not naive, but you have only been good to me.” You ran your thumb over his lips, remembering the feel of them on your lips, on your skin, between your legs. “I trust you.”

“Good,” Bucky’s tone didn’t sound happy like you expected when he spoke, “because I sent that bastard a ransom.”

A phantom hand wrapped around your throat but Bucky was there, soothing words and calming hands rubbing your back to chase away the rising panic. “Shhh, I’m not going to let him hurt you again, he’s not going to hurt anyone again.”

You let his words sink in and quell the uprising panic, slowing your breathing to match his before you could speak, “You’re going to kill him?”

“I am.”

“How?”

Bucky licked his lips before answering, “Steve will negotiate a handover to your father, the money in exchange for you, somewhere neutral.”

“How are you going to kill him there? And who's to say he will even show up if I’m to go with my father?” You pushed yourself up so you weren’t distracted by his touch. “He will have a small army with him.”

“Brock is a control freak, there’s no way he would miss out on the exchange, he will want to see it with his own eyes.” Bucky sat up to mirror you. “And while he and his small army are otherwise occupied, I’m going to go to make myself at home. That’s where I need your help.”

And helping Bucky is exactly what you did. You gave him the layout of the house, and the gardens, drawing a map so he could plan his break in and where to hide, lying in wait for Brock to return with you. When there was no other information you could think of, you sat back and asked the question that was burning in your brain, “What happens to me?”

Bucky placed his pen down upon the papers and looked into the flames of the fire warming his study. “You will be free.”

It was all you ever wanted but an ache grew in your chest at the idea of leaving Bucky and you had to look away before you asked your next question that you weren’t ready to hear the answer to. “Okay.”

The decision was made two days later, when both parties finally agreed on a disused parking lot far enough from both of their territories that it was considered neutral and also open enough that there couldn’t be an ambush set. Those two days were the worst you had experienced and just the idea of eating anything made you sick with the somersaults and knots in your tummy. Your palms were constantly clammy and not even Bucky’s ministrations could distract you from the fear of facing your abuser again.

“I’m calling it off,” Bucky announced as he settled into bed on the eve of the exchange. “I’ll find another way that doesn’t involve you.”

“It’s all set, Bucky, you can’t cancel now.”

“I can and I will,” he countered. “All the progress you were making…I shouldn’t have asked you to get involved.”

Your hands still shook but you placed them on his anyway. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, waiting for the day he finds me and drags me back to that place. I have to do this, it is my choice, please don’t take that away from me.”

His eyes screwed shut in defeat because no matter how much he might want to protect you, the trust he had built with you had been laid on the foundations of the freedom to choose. He would never take that away and you knew it. “You should rest, it’s a big day tomorrow.”

You smiled, falling back into the pillows and taking him with you. “I’m not tired.”

Bucky’s teeth flashed with a wicked grin and his hand slid up beneath the hem of his shirt you wore, freezing when it reached the apex of your thighs and finding it bare. “Naughty girl.”

You arched under his touch, his finger gliding between your slick folds before reaching your clit and teasing it with your own arousal. He knew your body better than you did as he made you praise his name with just a few strokes of those thick digits, plunging them into your pussy and curling them to that sweet spot that made you see stars.

“Please, Bucky, I need more than your fingers.”

He chuckled disappeared between your legs, his broad shoulders spreading your knees wide before his tongue delved into your cunt. Your legs trembled as his mouth set fire to your core and he kissed you just as thoroughly as he did with your mouth, dominant and full of tongue.

His name was a prayer on your lips when he brought you to the edge only to pull away before you could come. He could feel the frustration radiating from you when he kissed your inner thigh and murmured, “Patience, doll, when you come I want to feel it around my cock.” He kicked his boxers off and then he was there, filling your vision and sharing a kiss that tasted of your liquid delight.

You both moaned as your tongues danced and his cock stretched your entrance as it filled you. His hips met yours and the orgasm that had been close crashed over you, the bump of pressure on your clit enough to tip you over, but he didn’t stop. You couldn’t tell when one orgasm ended and another began, it was wave after wave slamming into your body and blinding you with the pleasure Bucky had opened your eyes too.

“Fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart,” Bucky praised breathlessly as your walls fluttered and clamped down with each orgasm, the feeling as close to heaven as a man like him would get. “You’re a goddamn angel.”

He was close to finishing; his revered rambling and the loss of his steady rhythm was something you had come to learn quickly in sharing his bed. He would always set your heart racing with the sweet nonsense he whispered in those final moments.

His body shuddered and the pulsing of his cock buried within you sent another tremor of aftershocks through your core before he collapsed above you, resting his head in the valley of your breasts. There was never a hurry with Bucky, and it was this moment that you savoured - when he listened to your heart beat and his thumbs drew mindless circles on your sensitive skin.

“I could stay like this for eternity,” Bucky said as he gently blew cool air across your nipple and smiled as the skin prickled into goosebumps. “I love the way you respond to me.”

You combed your fingers through his hair but kept your own admissions to yourself, knowing this was the last night you would spend in his embrace. Tomorrow, if all went to plan, you would be free.

All too soon Bucky’s cock slipped from your body and you immediately missed the fullness and warmth as his cum ran down your thighs. His eyes watched with hunger and pride as he knelt between your legs and watched it leak from your core, his bottom lip fiercely caught between his teeth.

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” The begrudging tone brought a smile to your lips and you accepted his hand as he pulled you up and led the way to the bathroom. “We really should try to get some sleep before tomorrow.”

“Relax, Bucky’s the smartest man I know,” Steve said, looking across from the driver's seat. “He’s got everything all planned out.”

“It doesn’t make the waiting any easier.” You wished Bucky was with you instead of Steve, he would have held your hand and squeezed it reassuringly. You looked at the clock for the millionth time and found only one more minute had passed. “Where are they?”

Steve nodded his head to the southern entrance of the disused parking lot and you spotted the line of blacked out SUVs pulling in, parking in a perfect symmetry to Steve and his men. “How many times have you done this?” you asked as they all opened their doors at some silent signal.

“Enough.”

It took all your willpower not to vomit on the asphalt as you put one foot in front of the other, Steve’s hand coming to rest on your lower back where your hands were fastened by cable ties. It was the first time you had voluntarily let the restraints be placed on you and hopefully it would be the last.

It was Steve’s hand that stopped you from recoiling when you saw Brock step out of his car and start strolling towards you, looking for all intents and purposes as if he was out for a relaxing walk. Your footsteps stumbled and Steve urged you under his breath to calm down as he kept you upright, but that was when you saw your father and the smirk playing on his lips - like he had won.

“Steve, I need you to get a message to Bucky.” Time was running out but you finally had your answer. “Tell him I have no father.”

Steve frowned down at you. “What do you mean?”

“Bucky will understand, that’s all that matters.” You took a steadying breath and focused on your feet. “I know you weren’t happy when Bucky saved me, but thank you anyway.”

“I could argue that you saved him,” Steve admitted quietly. “I don’t think he had any plans to walk out of that church alive - he was looking for absolution by dragging as many of Brock’s men down with him. So, I should thank you. Now scowl and turn to your fiance, he has to believe this.”

The scowl was very real but it wasn’t aimed at Steve.

“One million dollars,” your father said as he stepped forward and dropped a duffle bag at Steve’s feet. “Do you want to count it?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Steve said with a smirk. “If it’s not all there then you will know about it very soon.”

You stepped forward when Steve patted your back gently, swiping the handles of the bag up after you passed it and waited stiffly at your fathers side. “What now?”

Your father sneered down at you and Steve fisted the bag tighter to fight the urge to steal you back. “Someone has to repay Brock for his generosity, that is a lot of money to drop on one woman. Go and show your gratitude to your future husband.”

Bile rose and you swallowed deeply as you walked away from the safety of Bucky’s men and deeper into the army of demons that Brock commanded. The devil himself smiled with a baring of teeth and he opened the passenger door for you, his leering eyes mentally stripping the clothes from your body. “Welcome home, my little pet.”

Bucky will be there. Bucky will be there. Bucky will be there.

You wouldn’t face this alone. That is what you repeatedly told yourself as you climbed into the SUV, jolting at the sound of the door slamming shut.

Bucky will be there. Bucky will be there. Bucky will be there.

Your heart threatened to jump right out of your chest when the SUV turned into the driveway, stopping at the gates so that security could let him through. The drive had been silent but you had noticed the many SUV’s hadn’t followed Brock’s. A part of Bucky’s plan - they were suddenly finding themselves occupied by Steve and his men.

Bucky will be there. Bucky will be there. Bucky will be there.

Brock’s hand was a shackle around your wrist, leading you to the master suite, leading you to your future or doom.

The door was still swinging shut when Brock’s hand tightened around your wrist, spinning you towards the bed and pushing you onto your back before you could regain your balance. “Did he touch you?” There was no room to recoil from Brock’s spitting question as he pressed you into the mattress with his weight on top of you.

One hand snaked up your body and wrapped around your throat and your hips bucked to try to move him as his other hand spread your legs. Tears blurred your vision as Brock growled at the tight jeans kept him from easily taking what he wanted, a reason he never let you wear them when he was around. “Did he touch you?”

Your lungs were burning with the need to breathe but Brock was relentless. Where was Bucky? You had trusted him to be here, he was meant to be here.

The weight was suddenly lifted as Brock was thrown off you and you gasped at the air you could finally pull into your lungs. Bucky’s knife glinted on the floor where he must have dropped it to tackle Brock and now they were grappling on the carpet, raining fists upon each other while you tried to swallow the screams that were brewing.

Bucky slumped to the side when Brock’s fist connected with his temple and you cried out when he swayed trying to rise. You couldn’t sit by and watch the only man who stood up for you die because of that honour so you crawled to his side and curled up against him.

“How sweet,” Brock scoffed, kicking Bucky’s limp foot. “I always knew you were a whore and you know what I do to whores.”

You shuddered at the thought of him strapping you to his table in the basement and taking his time as he marked you with a knife or flame. No one would find your body, no one ever found the girls that were taken out of the basement in the dead of night. That was not going to be how your life ended, you had suffered enough.

“Get away from him. You belong to me.” Brock snapped his fingers and pointed to his shoes, like he was calling a disobedient dog to his side.

Something snapped and your fingers curled around Bucky’s knife as you looked at Brock’s cold, empty eyes. “I belong to no one.”

Brock spotted the knife as you pulled it out and held it at arm's length, the blade pointed to your heart and he lunged as he realised you were going to take away his playtoy. Your body shifted suddenly and the pain in your ribs flared but it wasn’t Brock that had pushed you but Bucky. With a burst of energy he knocked you aside and tore the knife from your hands, deftly spinning it and greeting Brock.

Shock flitted across Brock’s face that ended up so close to yours that you could feel his ragged breaths on your cheek. His lips parted but whatever spiteful words he had to say were lost when Bucky shoved the knife up and into his heart. You could hardly think as Brock’s blue eyes dulled and he was pushed away onto his back, knife still buried in his chest.

Dead, the monster was finally dead.

“Bucky?” His eyes were blinking hard as if to help him focus the stars that were loitering his vision but he managed to pull himself to his feet and help you to yours. “Are you alright?”

Bucky ignored you and looked to the door. “We need to get out of here before anyone comes to investigate the noise.”

You placed a hand on his chest so he stopped and looked at you. “No one will come, they are used to it.”

Bucky closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to yours. “You were going to kill yourself.” His voice broke and he wrapped his arms around you, needing the embrace as much as you did.

“You saved me, Bucky, again.” You pulled away before you could let the flood of tears run free, knowing there was still another battle to face. “Let’s go.”

You looked back as your fingers curled around the door handle, taking one last look at Brock as his blood turned the white carpet red. You should have been paying attention ahead but you crashed into a startled maid with an armful of lace underwear you knew he had ordered for you.

The maid's eyes went wide as she saw Bucky standing behind you, then saw Brock dead on the floor, his lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. You could feel Bucky reaching into his pocket where his knife had hidden after retrieving it from Brock’s chest but he stopped when the maid dropped the lace, stepped away and whispered, “Go, quick.”

You rushed past her and Bucky quickly moved in front of you in case anyone else showed up unexpectedly, his limp barely noticeable as adrenaline chased away the pain. When you turned back she was already closing the door and using a universal key to lock it from the outside. No one would dare disturb Brock if his door was locked, it meant he was playing.

“Left,” you whispered to Bucky as reached the end of the hall, “there’s a false door beside the laundry.”

He turned without hesitation and when he reached the laundry he took a defensive position while you moved in. This door was only to be used if there was a police raid and very few people could access it, but as Brock’s significant other you were one of them. You opened the false panel and pressed your palm to the scanner, sighing with relief that they hadn’t cancelled it when you were kidnapped.

You let Bucky enter, then followed and closed the door behind you. “It’s about a mile to the river, can you manage it?”

“I’ll be fine,” Bucky assured you, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to it. “How are you?” His fingers traced over the bruises that would surely start to bloom across your throat.

You thought of the dead man lying in his own blood upstairs and smiled despite the aches that plagued your body. “Never been better.”

Bucky looked down the empty tunnel, every fibre of his being telling him to start moving but he needed to do one thing first. His arm curled around your waist and pulled you against him as his lips crushed yours in a devouring kiss that you couldn't help but surrender yourself to. “I..I’m so proud of you, doll. You faced your fear, there’s nothing holding you back now.”

You nodded with a tight smile that you didn’t feel. You had quietly hoped he would ask you to stay, even though you had said that you wanted to be free of the mafia from the very start. You didn’t want to be free of him. “I’m proud of you too, your plan really worked.”

“We aren’t out of it yet,” Bucky said at the reminder, lacing his fingers with yours and beginning the walk to freedom.

It was dark when you emerged from the tunnels to find two unrecognisable cars parked outside. Fear coiled in your belly at the thought that the single taste of fresh air and freedom would be all you had but the door opened and Steve stepped out.

“I was getting worried,” Steve admitted as he greeted Bucky with a hug and sent you a smile. “The money is in the car, it’s all clean and counted, and the package is in this trunk.”

Bucky took the keys and placed them in your palm, the metal cool against the warmth where his hand had been. “Take this, sweetheart, take the car, the money and start a life somewhere far from here. You deserve to be happy.”

Your lips parted but he was already moving towards the trunk of Steve’s car, where muffled cries had erupted from. The words were lost as Bucky opened the back and pulled your father from the back - his eyes widening when he spotted you. The cries increased as he fought against the hold Bucky had but Bucky didn’t notice, he was watching you, silently asking if you had changed your mind.

You shook your head and turned away.

The gunshot was deafening against the quiet night on the edge of the city and you jumped at the sudden sound but refused to turn and see the face of the man who should have protected you from the moment you were born. He had betrayed you in the worst ways and you had no space in your heart to feel anything for him.

As the ringing in your ears dimmed, you heard Steve talking quietly to Bucky, quietly but sternly. Intrigue begged you to try and listen closer but you gripped the jangling keys tighter and tried to push it into the keyhole with trembling fingers.

Footsteps approached and you froze as Bucky’s hand wrapped around yours, guiding it to the door and turning the key to unlock it. His lips brushed your ear as he leaned in close and breathlessly begged you, “Ask me.” He turned you in his arms and pleaded with eyes deeper than the ocean. “Ask me to come with you.”

The words came easily, rolling off your tongue like silk. “Come with me, Bucky.”

“Ok.” His lips curled up into a smile and he reached past you to open the door. “Do you trust me?”

You grinned back as you accepted his hand to ease you into the seat painlessly. “With my life.”

“Good,” Bucky said before racing around the car and slipping into the driver's seat. “This is going to be one hell of an adventure.”

#mafia!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x poc!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfiction #tw: domestic violence #tw: abuse

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