#dark!bucky

"Do you want to go to Koji for lunch? I want sushi," Gabe asks while shoving papers into his backpack haphazardly. You shake your head and glance quickly at your professor. He's leaning against his desk, shirt sleeves rolled up his muscular forearms, hands gripping the edge of the wood with an anticipation for something only you can give him.

"No, I'm not that hungry. Ask Jesse. I'm sure he'll go with you. You guys need to carb-o load before the game tonight," you say absentmindedly. You are hungry, just not for sushi.

"Okay, fine. I'll see you tonight?" Gabe asks, lifting your chin up to look at him. You finally look at him and nod, letting him kiss you chastely before he makes his way out of the classroom. You walk down the steps to the main floor, walking by Dr. Barnes slowly.

"Engaging lecture today, Professor," you say as you brush by, and you swear you hear the wood of the desk creak beneath his grip.

"Thank you," he mutters, watching your hips sway as you walk out of his classroom. He's going to ruin you. And kill your boyfriend.

"I should clean your mouth out with soap for kissing that inconsequential boy in front of me," he grunts as he finishes tying you up across his desk at home. You look up at his wall of accolades and whine, writhing. You're not really trying to escape your bondage, but you know it makes him hard to think that you're struggling to free yourself from his handiwork. You're spread across the cool, hard mahogany face-up this time, and watch him as he unbuckles his leather belt, snapping it once. You jolt at the sound and he hums contentedly. "Open."

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, understanding his commands at this point in your twisted relationship like the back of your hand. He stands before you, your view of him turned upside down as he crouches down in front of you so he's eye level with you, sticking his fingers in your mouth, making you gag. "You're not to kiss him in front of me, again. Do you understand, little bunny?"

You nod quickly, eyes already watering as your gag reflex is triggered. He pulls his fingers free, slapping your cheek as he spits into your mouth. "Swallow it."

You swallow it down, feeling your arousal grow at his commands. Every day you have to make decisions to be good, to study, to sign up for this extracurricular, to volunteer for this organization or participate in some 5k for charity—"It'll look amazing on your resume." That's what your daily life centers around—decisions, control, perfection. But here with your professor—with Bucky, when he asks you to call him that—you're fully at his mercy. No decisions, zero control, and it's hard to look perfect with mascara running down your cheeks, although he'd beg to differ. It's like letting go, and it makes you come every single time.

Your thoughts are brushed away with one swipe of his tip across your lips before he's fucking your throat without remorse.

"There you go, baby. Take it all. My good little girl, aren't you?" He grunts, pistoning his hips into your mouth. His balls are hitting your forehead with each thrust forehead, and you wish your hands were free to massage them and make him feel even better. You breathe steadily through your nose to keep your composure as he uses you, holding you by the jaw to keep your head in place. "Mmm, little bunny, I can see my dick through your throat. You perfect slut."

You smile around him, looking up at his handsome face. He leans down to kiss your forehead, never letting you go too long without a moment of softness from him. No matter what you do together—no matter how depraved and borderline painful—Bucky always takes care of you.

It's because I love her. She's mine.

You're fully gagging now, trying your best to take it all, before he pulls out of your mouth, rubbing your cheek softly with his hand. "Too much?"

You nod, licking your lips. He wipes your tears away with a swipe of his thumbs and moves to the other side of the desk, positioning himself between your thighs, swiping the tip of his dick up and down your slick. You always use protection with Gabe, but never with Bucky. You know you should—you know it's a risk, but he said he can't bear the thought of a barrier between you.

"I love how wet you get for me, little bunny. Made for me," he grunts, pushing into you.

And I'll make sure she's only mine. I'll make damn sure.

You pull at your restraints as your body accomodates him. It's almost your favorite part—the stretch, the sting, then the immense pleasure.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, bottoming out. That's your favorite part—the praise and how he loses himself completely when he's inside you, eyes fluttering shut, hands gripping your hips, like you're the best thing he's ever had wrapped around him.

She is. She'll always be. Perfection.

He pulls out as your pussy clenches around him, close to surrender, tapping it a couple times on your swollen clit.

"Please!" You cry out, bucking your hips as much as the restraints will allow, body begging for more. You're so close.

"Please what, little bunny? Tell me what you want," he mutters, eyes boring into yours.

"Fuck me! Let me come, please," you plead, writhing on his desk. You let out a frustrated groan, and he leans down to kiss you, wrapping a hand around your throat possessively.

"Say my name," he demands into your ear.

"Dr. Barnes… Professor… please," you squeak out as he cuts off your airway slowly.

"Say my real name," he commands with another squeeze, fingers digging into your soft flesh.

"Bucky…" you whisper, starting to lose your vision. Your phone starts to buzz on the chair at that moment and Bucky removes his hand from your neck before picking it up and looking at the screen with a dark expression. Fuck. He shows you the caller: Gabe and slides to answer, holding it up to your ear.

"Hey babe, did I leave my cleats in your dorm?" He asks through the phone.

You swallow, scared to answer in front of Bucky. He knows you don't love Gabe. You date him for some sense of normalcy. Bucky brings his hands down hard on your pussy, slapping it. You gasp.

"Babe, you okay?" Gabe asks. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah-yeah, I can hear you. Sorry, I-uh, I stubbed my toe on my desk chair," you get out.

Bucky slaps it again and you clench, biting your lip to stifle a moan.

"What's that noise?" He asks and your eyes widen, pleading for Bucky to stop.

"I'm just snapping a rubber band. Your cleats aren't here. I'll call you after the game, okay?"

"Okay, I love you," he says sweetly.

Bucky hangs up before you can reply and starts untying you.

She isn't going to see him after the game.

"What are you doing?" You ask, wondering why the fuck he's untying you before you've finished. He doesn't answer, just helps you stand up before walking to the other side of his home office and sitting on the large leather couch.

"I don't want to hear his voice when you're with me," he explains calmly. "If you want to come, crawl."

Your eyes widen. "What?"

"Crawl to me."

You drop to your knees without further thought and crawl across the hardwood floor to where he's sitting. His pupils blow wide as you reach him.

"You're such a good listener," he praises, brushing your hair behind your ear. "Good girls get rewarded."

She could be a spoiled brat and defy my every word and I'd still make sure she comes every day.

Bucky bends you over the couch and is inside of you in the span of a few seconds, grunting into your ear. It's quick, filthy, and you're on the edge again in minutes.

"Come for me, pretty baby," he breathes against your neck, biting at your pulse point. "Come on your professor's cock."

"Buck—oh fuck, I—!"

There she goes. My perfect girl. I'm going to lock her down.

Bucky doesn't announce it, but you feel it—the heat, the slick, the shudder of his hips against you as he spills deep inside of you.

"What are you doing?" You ask, unable to pull away.

"Marking my territory," he grunts, pulling out and cleaning up the excess with his tip before pushing it back into you. "I want you to feel me spilling out of you when you sit in those bleachers and watch his game tonight."

He pulls out completely and turns you toward him, kissing you deeply. Your chest tightens at the risky move, and you pull him even closer as you feel him start to drip out of you already.

Gabe was supposed to meet you after the game at Lazlo's Pizza, but he never showed and wasn't answering your texts or calls, so you head home. He's probably out celebrating the win with his teammates.

You get back to your dorm and take a long, hot shower, touching every spot that Bucky touched earlier with reverence, wishing things were simpler and that you could just be together.

The next morning, you wake to a slew of missed calls and texts. Your roommate walks in with two coffees and a paper bag.

"Oh my God, are you okay?!" She exclaims, coming to sit on your bed.

"What do you mean?" You ask, hand flying to your neck, wondering if Bucky left bruises.

"Have you not heard?" She asks, eyes wide.

"Heard what?" You ask, pulse now racing.

"Honey, Gabe… they… they found his car in the West River this morning."

"Where is he?" You exclaim, flying out of bed.

"Oh, honey… he was in the car. He passed away."

You put your head in your hands and start sobbing uncontrollably. You throw on a robe and grab your phone, running to the bathroom. "I'll be right back," you hiccup through another sob.

You call Bucky and he picks up on the first ring.

"Good morning, little bunny."

"Good job, Professor," you whisper, looking into the mirror with a devious smile. "Exquisite work."

"Only the best for my girl."

Only my girl now.

THE END

You raise a brow, giving him an expectant look.

"Oh. Of course," He chuckles. "The little knock on your head must've messed with your memory a bit... well, you were all set to give me a private dance - which I was really, really looking forward to - but then you left. You just... left me there. No explanation. No apology. You just walked straight out."

Your stomach churns as your memory returns. He's telling the truth - you were about to give him a lap dance in one of the private rooms as he had pre-booked, but just before you got the chance to even flash him a smile, your boss, Steve, walked in and dragged you away to another, more important client. You wince. This freak wouldn't kill you for ditching him, would he? Either way, you decide to play nice. "I am so, so sorry, James - Bucky," You say, hoping it sounds genuine.

"No, I don't want an apology," He cuts you off, holding up his hand with a glint in his eye. "I just want you to make it up to me. I want my dance."

Slight relief makes your fingers twitch, but you also feel slightly confused. "Seriously?" You ask him bluntly. "That's why you abducted me? For a dance?"

He lets out a sigh, doing his best to remain calm. "I saved up for a long time to be able to afford you, Angel," Bucky points out.

"You couldn't just book another dance?" You ask him wildly, at your wits end. "I would've rescheduled for free - if you had even just waited an hour-"

"Shut up," He cuts in curtly, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "I told you what I want. Now, you'll give it to me. And once you do, I'll let you go."

Maybe you're stupid for believing him, but you don't exactly have a choice. You give him a nod, and his face and body visibly relax.

"Good," He mumbles almost inaudibly before making his way back to the door, which he shuts. He takes out a key chain with multiple keys from his pocket and locks the door. Then, he walks back over to you and uses another key to unlock your chains.

The relief around your wrists is instant, but quickly replaced with new pressure when he grabs them and walks you over to the foot of the bed. Bucky takes a seat on the corner of the bed, takes off his glasses which he places next to him, and then gives you an expectant look.

You raise a brow and let out a nervous laugh. "No music?" You ask, half in an attempt to lighten the mood and half because music would make this a lot less awkward.

Bucky thinks for a few seconds before shaking his head. "No music," He decides firmly. "You can start, now."

You close your eyes as you try to calm your nerves. Although he's kidnapped you and is holding you against your will, he probably still isn't the most dangerous client you've ever had. All he wants is a dance. He doesn't want to hurt you. Don't give him a reason to.

With a deep breath, you start to sway your hips. It feels wrong to be dancing with no music to follow, but you just need to get this over with. You focus on the movement of your body, no doubt he's doing the same. When you feel his big hands grab hold of your waist, your eyes shoot open and you immediately stop moving.

"No touching," You say sternly, as if he's one of your regular clients in the club.

With a clenched jaw, he tightens his grip on your waist. "I make the rules here, Angel, this is my house. Just keep fucking dancing," He orders you. "There's no such thing as 'no' for you anymore. You do as I say. You ask no questions. You do not stop me."

Holding back the cuss words on the tip of your tongue, you grit your teeth together and continue dancing. You imagine a song playing in your head to help kill the awkward silence, and do your best to ignore his rough hands stroking your bare hips.

"I think this is the part where you take your tits out for me," Bucky says flatly, and you know it isn't just a polite suggestion.

Sticking to your usual routine, you spin around so you're facing away from him, before turning your head to the side. "Pull the string," You say, hoping he won't hear the resentment in your voice.

He takes his time in moving his hand up your back, feeling your soft skin before finally pulling on one of the strings of your bra. You pull it off your shoulders and toss it to the side, and then slowly turn back to face him.

It isn't his first time seeing your boobs, but he looks as if it's his first time seeing any boobs. "Fuck," He whispers, bringing his hands up to cup them. "You're so sexy."

You know there's no use in telling him not to touch them, so you hold back your eye-roll as he rubs his thumbs over your hardening nipples.

"Getting excited?" He asks with delight in his eyes as your nipples respond to his touch.

"Don't flatter yourself; they're sensitive," You tell him bluntly. You may have to do as he says, but you don't have to be happy about it.

"Is that right?" He questions you curiously before his eyes meet yours. "Sit on my lap, Angel."

With a sigh, you obey, cringing when you feel his boner poke against your ass.

Bucky pulls you closer so your back is flush against his chest, before his hands return to your tits. He immediately goes for your nipples, pulling and twisting on them, making you cry out against your control.

"That hurts," You tell him, squeezing your legs together as you feel yourself get wet. Stop being so turned on for this bastard.

"Good," He replies simply, pulling them harder. "It's okay if you want to moan. In fact, you should moan. Go ahead, Angel. Moan for me."

Unable to stop yourself, you do as he says, hating yourself for it. Whimpers and cries escape your mouth as your body rocks against his, pure frustration causing your thighs to rub together.

"Moan my name," He utters into your ear. "Do it."

"Bucky," You whine, throwing your head back on his shoulder.

"That's it, baby Angel, that's a good girl," He groans as his boner rubs against your ass. When his left hand releases your nipple and begins to slide down your stomach, you come to your senses and immediately clamp your hand around his wrist.

"Not there, Bucky," You say sternly. "That's where I draw the line."

He grabs your chin, fury in his eyes. "Where you draw the line?" He repeats before laughing darkly. "There is no fucking line here, and certainly not one you draw. I told you; you do as I say, and you do it without question. Now, shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear anything from you unless you're moaning, you slut."

You suck in a deep breath as he forces his hand down your panties, his fingers immediately settling between your folds.

"Holy fuck. You are so fucking wet, Angel," Bucky grumbles into your ear. "Shit. Like a fucking swimming pool down here. Do you get this wet for every lap dance?"

You let out a shaky breath.

He slaps your cheek. "I asked you a question. Answer me."

"No," You say pointedly. "I don't get wet."

"I know that's right," Bucky groans. "Fuck, this kitty knows she's home, doesn't she? I bet I could just slide my fingers straight into you with how wet you are. Just... like... this."

You suck in a sharp breath as he pushes two of his fingers into your pussy, curling them inside you. For a moment, you forget the context of why you're here and who with, and just focus on how good it feels to have his fingers sliding in and out of you.

His right hand continues toying with your nipple, making your eyes roll back as he fucks you with his fingers. "That's it, I knew you'd enjoy yourself eventually," He says, and you can hear the smirk on his lips. "Look at you; your pussy's fucking soaking. Desperate for it, aren't you, you slut?"

Incoherent moans are all that leave your mouth.

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out of you and instead moves to unbuckle his belt. You suddenly become acutely aware of your surroundings and sit up, turning back to face him.

"What are you doing?" You ask as he pulls down his zipper.

"What do you think I'm doing?" He asks with a smirk as he pulls out his huge, swollen cock. It's incredibly impressive for someone so creepy and incel-like.

"No," You utter, shaking your head. "That's way too far, now. This was just supposed to be a fucking lap dance, I've already given you way more than you'd get in the club!"

He lets out a sigh at your outburst, but surprisingly doesn't hit you or yell. It's eerie how calm he is. "Look ahead, Angel. At the wardrobe in front of you," He says, making you frown.

You look straight at it, confused as to what it is you're supposed to be seeing. "What about it?" You ask him. The doors are slightly ajar, but there's nothing special about it.

"See, you probably can't tell, but there's a camera in there, and it's been recording this whole time," He reveals, making your stomach flip.

Narrowing your eyes, you stare at it, gasping when you see a tiny red light.

"And unless you want me to post the video of me fingering your pussy and playing with your tits to the world for everyone to see, you're gonna take my cock like the good girl we both know you can be," Bucky growls into your ear. "Now, there's plenty of men who have seen your tits before, but I know there's one man in particular who you don't want to see what I just did to you. No. Rogers would be pretty mad, wouldn't he? Your boyfriend-slash-pimp would probably kill you for letting another man touch your cunt. He's incredibly possessive, isn't he?"

Your breaths are shaky, the thought of Steve finding out about tonight making you sick to your stomach. He gets pissed enough when someone dares to grope you during a dance at the club, but this? He'd kill Bucky and you.

"So, unless you want him seeing the footage of his favorite girl being used by someone else, you're gonna let me fuck you until I cum deep inside your pussy," Bucky snarls. "And you're gonna enjoy it, like the whore you are."

With that, he grabs your arm and forces you down onto the bed, making sure the camera's got a good angle as he rips your panties apart. Without warning, he stuffs his fat cock into you, making you scream out. Your hands grab fistfuls of the bed sheets as he forces himself into you, spreading you open and filling you up. The stretch burns and you feel lightheaded.

"Fuck, didn't think a slut like you would have such a tight cunt," Bucky grumbles as he bottoms out. "You never had a cock as thick as mine?"

"Mmph," Is all you can let out, your face smushed against the bed.

He slowly pulls out of you. "Ready for it?" He asks, before chuckling. "I couldn't give a fuck either way." And with that, he starts fucking you, hard.

Gasps and whimpers escape your mouth as he pounds into you, tightly gripping your hips. One of his hands moves up your stomach and finds your tits, and he pinches and pulls on your nipples. Your eyes roll back and you feel dizzy, overwhelmed with pain and pleasure as the two mix.

"That's it, take this cock," Bucky grunts. "That's all you're good for, isn't it, you stupid slut? Making me wait... being a fucking tease, blowing me kisses then walking past me like I mean nothing... Now look at you. Fucking destroyed."

You're utterly powerless against him, reduced to nothing as he fucks you with vigor and rage. You can feel his need to ruin you; his frustration is palpable. And you're at his mercy. All you can do is take it. So, that's what you do, giving in to the overwhelming pleasure as he uses your body.

"An-gel," He sings teasingly, bringing his lips down to your ear. "I can feel you pulsing around my cock. Gonna cum?"

You let out a cry.

"Use. Your. Words," Bucky utters, slamming into you with each word.

"Yes," The word bursts from your mouth like a bird finding its wings.

"That's my Angel," He says smugly, bringing his fingers down to your clit which he rubs. "Show me who this pussy belongs to. Cum around my cock. Now."

With a strangled cry, you feel your orgasm hit you like a wave, stunning you. Your body convulses beneath his while he keeps fucking you, growling your name as his cock twitches inside you.

"You're gonna take my cum; every fucking drop," He says gruffly. "Gonna fuck you pregnant. Make you mine, forever."

Your mind is empty as you float through your pleasure, too taken to process what he's saying, or the fact that he's cumming inside you without a condom on.

Bucky grunts, thrusting a few last times as he empties his cum into you. "That's a good little whore," He grumbles as his hips still, his cock buried in you. "See? I knew you'd enjoy yourself."

You wince as he pulls out, leaving you empty, save for his cum which dribbles out of you.

"You did a good job tonight, Angel," He says, patting your ass a few times. "Maybe tomorrow we can give everyone an even better show."

"Huh?" You utter, lifting your head up to see him opening the wardrobe and pulling out the camera.

He brings the camera to your face with a wide grin on his lips. "Say hi to our supporters, Angel," Bucky says, making you feel sick to our stomach. "We'll see you guys tomorrow. Let me know if you have any special requests."

With that, he turns the camera off, and you're stunned into silence. You're so shocked that you can barely move, even when he returns the handcuffs to your wrist, binding you to the bedpost.

"I'll bring some snacks up for you soon," Bucky says casually as he walks towards the door. "Just give me a shout if you need anything." He opens the door and stands in the doorway, shooting you a bright smile. "Oh, and you can be as loud as you want, don't worry about bothering the neighbors.

There's no-one for miles around."

ahhhhh this has been in my drafts for SO. LONG. i'm so happy that it's finally done. made it a bit spooky to celebrate the fact that IT'S HALLOWEEN SOON 🤪

got a couple of halloween fics planned for you so keep an eye out xxx

bucky masterlist

i no longer have a taglist, follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications for updates.

You woke with a groan of discomfort. The friction between the soft sheets and your bottom feeling like a small fire. Rolling over to find some modicum of relief, you miraculously discovered you were once again alone. 

Memories of last night’s events flooded your mind; screaming with pleasure, begging your captors for relief, giving in to their demands. You buried your head in the pillow and let out a howl of frustration. The fact your body, even now was even betraying you with the little flutter at your core, at the mere reminiscence of pleasure, was a crushing blow. 

“Traitor,” you muttered quietly. 

Why couldn’t you have just sucked up the punishment like the grown-ass women you were? Why did you have to kowtow to them? But you knew that answer already. Part of you wanted them. The glimpse of pleasure they could give you, left you wondering about the heights they could take you to. You would bet all the money in the world neither of them was lacking in that department, you’d felt the evidence of Steve’s endowment against your back several times. Spending time at the gym with Bucky had left you with some inkling of exactly what he was working with. 

There was some undeniable thing simmering underneath the surface. An air of inevitability. Going forward it was going to be much harder to deny, to keep yourself at arm’s length. It felt much more tangible with Bucky, but those hours spent with Steve in the bath had left a lasting impression too. What worried you was the risk that this would become more than a purely physical connection. 

Apart from your spanking, they hadn’t hurt you in anyway. In fact, you had been looked after better now, than when you’d been a child. Gone were the everyday worries you faced about money, finding that special someone, even the future to a certain extent. Could that kind of security be a reason to overlook the fact you’d been forced into this position? 

You shook your head, furious that you were falling into some state on contentment.

“You’re their prisoner. They’ve kidnapped you. You don’t want to be here.” 

By the time you get downstairs you had just about convinced yourself that you still hated the pair of them. You walked, barefooted into the empty kitchen and start getting yourself something to eat, wearing only the t-shirt from last night and a pair of loose fittings boxers you had found in a draw in the room. You weren’t 100% sure whose they were but they were the only thing you could think of that wouldn’t irritate your ass.

You felt half relieved and half anxious at the fact that neither Steve nor Bucky were present. Thinking on it, there wasn’t a moment since you had arrived that you’d really been alone downstairs in the house. As you sipped your coffee, sat at the table on a cushion pinched from the sofa, you studied the place. It was warm and homely, but the chilling realisation was that it seemed to be built with you in mind. There were little bits of you everywhere, from the stacks of books written by your favourite authors, colour accents like those you had used to decorate your flat. 

Footsteps coming up from the basement gym snapped you out of your thoughts. Steve and Bucky, dripping with sweat, were talking in hushed tones. Bucky said something to Steve who chuckled silently. Bucky spotted you and stopped at the top of the stairs and Steve bumped straight into him, sending him stumbling forward. He just about managed to stop himself from falling flat on his face, Steve laughing loudly now at his best friend who was looking mightily embarrassed. 

“Sorry, Buck” Steve managed get out between his next burst of laughter. 

You couldn’t help but join in when Bucky himself shook his head and joined in. The light-hearted moment shared between the three of you helped diffuse the awkwardness you were expecting the morning after the night before. 

“We were just saying we were thinking of driving into town later to get some groceries for dinner tonight.” Steve said once he had caught his breath back. 

Reality came crashing back, they were going to leave you locked in your beautifully prepared cell whilst they went out to the real world beyond you reach. 

They could clearly read this thought on your face. 

“We meant all of us you know, the three of us.” Steve said softly.

“What?”

“We’re all going out, if you want?” Steve walked over to you, thumb tilting your face up so you were looking at him. “You’ve been good and I’m sure you’d like some fresh air and the chance to pick up anything you need.” 

You nodded, head still in his hand. 

He dropped a kiss to your forehead and dropped his hand. “Good girl. We’re setting off in 20 minutes, me and Buck just need to freshen up, should give you a chance to change.” You could see amusement in his eyes when he clocked the boxers you were wearing, making you realise they must be his. 

“The only thing that didn’t hurt,” you muttered to yourself in embarrassment. 

“Just for reference, mine are in the second draw down, for next time,” Bucky patted your shoulder and winked at you as he walked passed. You couldn’t help but shake your head at him. “Also, I would get a shift on, you know who,” he pointed to where Steve had just gone into the bedroom, “can’t stand being late”.

⚠️Did you read the warnings?!? ⚠️

He’d only been in the city a month, a month of trying to figure out the world that was full of rules and boundaries. A world where he could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, however he wanted. Of Steve trying to coax him into accepting that he was not the man he had been for the last seventy years. He was wrong, so, so wrong. Cause as soon as he saw you, the gut feeling had crawled out. A snake poking its head out of its den to scent the air. 

You smelled good, like citrus, cinnamon, flour, and old books. He had figured out that you worked across from the library where he’d seen you at originally. Knew that you were new to the area, starting at a university that was a short bus ride away. Didn’t have many friends, wasn’t active on social media that he could find. Kept to yourself for the most part. It was different, thrilling. You didn’t make it easy for him; weren’t as distracted as the others had been. So aware of your surroundings, always looking around, taking in the place.

Which had all led him to being here, sitting across from your apartment building. It wasn’t anything fancy, the fob would be easy enough to bypass, it was just figuring out which floor you were on. Steve was out, and tonight was the night. 

Dressed head to toe in black, a small bag on his back, cap covering his face. He had scoped out your building using google maps, it was newer, no fire escapes to climb up. He knew you didn’t live on any of the first three floors, he would have seen you by now if you did. It left five floors, too many to search from the inside. 

Instead, he broke into the building across from you and climbed up the building's inner stairwell, making his way onto the roof. It gave him a view of one side; if he didn’t find you there, he would move so he could see the backside. That familiar flutter tugs at his guts, you had him all wound up, and you didn’t even know it. 

Digging around in his bag he pulled out the parts for the rifle, setting up against the edge of the building. He swept the roof first, looking for anyone else on the hunt tonight. Seeing things were clear, he started his search. One window at a time.

The first few windows were dark. One had some guy furiously jerking off to some cartoon porn, next was a woman dancing naked in her kitchen. That floor was a bust, same with the one below. He grumbles, but it doesn’t sway him. He moves down a level, pausing to watch a couple having vigorous sex on their sofa, the girl's tits bouncing are hypnotizing. He pushes roughly against his cock. Now was not the time. 

Shifting, he hit a few dark windows, and then ones that are on. He pauses when he sees bookshelves, a laptop, and your bag. This was your place, floor four. If the floor plan was accurate, you were in room 412. A one bedroom, with a decent floor plan, for the city anyway. But where were you now?

He adjusts his scope, settling himself in on the hard roofing of the building. He moves between the two windows, one is your living room, and the other is your bedroom. The bedroom is dark, save for the glow of something charging. Probably your phone, he wonders what’s on the phone. What he might see if he got a chance to look at it.  

Movement catches his eye and he is moving the scope to look back at the main room. You're in a towel, hair up in another one, steam coming from somewhere behind you. His eyes drawn to any exposed skin, the way your thighs peak out from under the towel, arms moving as you turn a kettle on. The way your ass moves as you stand on tiptoes to grab some tea from the cupboard. Bucky can feel himself drooling, the way he wants to taste you. Take that towel off and explore the rest of your body. 

You move into the bedroom and close the curtains. A huff leaves him. He flicks back to his phone, checking that no one is looking for him. The last thing he wanted was for Steve to wonder where he was. 

The curtains pulled back and you stood there for a moment, just looking out at the street. Bucky froze as your gaze took in everything. He pulls his scope back, behind the ledge, and lowers himself down. Just peering over the ledge at you. You looked along the roofs, a small smile on your lips, before you turned back into the room.

“Who are you?” He wondered out loud before setting his scope and rifle back up. 

A large shirt hung over your body, a pair of small bike shorts did nothing to hide your legs. He shifts a little, feeling himself react to seeing you like this. It was so intimate, so raw. It was why he did this, why he needed to do this. To experience someone without any walls or masks; just you, in your element. 

He spent the next hour watching you, typing away on a laptop, music playing through a pair of headphones. You had tea, some cookies, swaying back and forth to music only you could hear. It was so simple. Then the laptop closed and you moved to your bedroom, turning off the lights in the living room. Your bedroom was barely decorated, a calendar on the wall, a small side table stacked with books. Simple. 

You settle into your bed. He watches you kick off your shorts from under the covers, dropping them beside your bed. The way his heart jumps seeing those shorts hit the ground, it was like you’d stripped in front of him. The light goes off in your room, and everything settles. 

This was his cue to leave, to pack and head back to his apartment. Maybe jerks off while thinking of what is under those shorts. 

His body doesn’t comply; he knows better, knows it’s too soon, too fast, but that hasn’t stopped him before. But before he had hydra to clean up after him. Before, it didn’t mean anything, just a way to get rid of pent-up energy after a mission. 

Would this mean anything? Was this just something to occupy his time? It didn’t feel like that. It felt so different. Maybe it was because he was out from under hydra. That he could remember things. Things he didn’t want to remember, and the things he did were full of holes.

Shifting back to his scope, he makes his decision. The rifle is broken down and packed up into his bag, and he is back down the stairs in record time. Finding a dumpster, Bucky tucks his backpack into it, and makes his way towards your apartment building. The fob is bypassed with his phone. He grabs his mask, putting it on and keeping his cap low to over his face.

He keeps his posture relaxed but moves quickly into the elevator. Surprised to see no cameras. The doors open and again no cameras are visible in the hall. They are either well hidden or not being used. Bucky is leaning towards the latter. Landlords weren’t exactly known for reliable security. One less thing to worry about. 

He is at your door in a few feet. Adrenaline running through his veins, making his pulse pound. The door has a standard deadbolt lock, not a fob like the front. Without thinking, he grabs his lock-picks and has the deadbolt open within seconds. 

His ears strain to hear anything. Once he is sure you’re not awake, he moves. Hand on the knob, he turns it softly, listening and then pushes the door open. 

It’s dark, but the open windows give him enough light to move around quietly. You really should close those at night. 

Bucky takes a second to look at the place. The decorations are simple: a couple of full bookshelves and a sofa covered in throw blankets. You have a tv across from the sofa, with a stack of dvds beside it. Walls are bare, save for where your coat hung up. Shoes neatly placed beside the door. Kitchen cleaned, with dishes in a drying rack. 

There are only two other doors, one for your bathroom and one for your bedroom. Mind racing, he moves softly towards the open door to the bedroom. 

Standing in the doorway, he takes you in. Bucky gets close enough that he can start to smell you. A soft, clean smell of citrus. That he wants to commit to memory. 

Your blankets are tucked up under your chin, one arm stuffed under the pillow and another wrapped around the top. Your chest is rising and falling in an even pattern. Having no idea he is standing in your room, feet away from you. He could easily walk over and take you right now. Fingers twitching in his gloves, he wasn’t that man now. Impulses could get him put down. He needed to take his time, even if coming in here wasn’t part of the plan. It felt good to be in here, to be so close to you. Feel power flooding through him. The ability to be completely in control.

He moves over quietly, crouching down beside your bed, watching your face. Lips parted slightly, eyes twitching behind your eyelids, dreaming. Bucky wondered what you’d be dreaming about? What comes to mind while you fall asleep? 

The urge to sit and just watch you claws at him, he knows better. Knows that if he does that, things will be over. That he won’t be able to come back here, won’t be able to see you again. He needs that, needs that more than he needs to stay. 

Fingers moving, he takes off his glove and reaches up to touch your hair. It’s soft, under his rough fingers. He leans in and smells your shampoo. Teeth sinking into his lip to stop him from groaning. You don’t even move, eyes still firmly closed, breath just as even. 

Not thinking he moves around to the opposite side of the bed, fingers reaching out, he touches the cool fabric of your. He pulls the covers back slowly, revealing you. Your shirt is rucked up enough that he can see your bare hip and the swell of your ass. Completely naked. Just lying there like sin itself. 

You shift, a muffled huff. The movement has him placing the blanket back and dropping to the floor without a sound. Above him, you shift, rolling over, he hears you grab your phone, clicking through it before groaning and dropping it on the bed. 

His heart is rattling in his chest, cock rock hard as he lies there. Trying to get his body calmed down enough to listen. Several moments go by, and he is finally able to listen past his own heart beat. You’re back asleep, none the wiser. 

Standing back up, he moves over to a basket, laundry. A single item in mind. It doesn’t take long to find what he needs. A used pair of underwear, they slip into his pocket, and he is out the door like a shadow. 

The door clicks behind him, and he pulls his mask off panting into the cool air of the room. Grin spread across his face as he flicked on the lights. He gets his boots off and paces back and forth for a few moments. 

Dropping his bag in his room. A thrill running down his spine, unlike any high he had ever been on. His body was practically vibrating out of his skin. Hand digging into his pocket, he brought your panties up to his face and sniffed them. 

Eyes rolling into his head at the heady, deep smell. It makes his head spin, his already painfully hard cock twitching in his jeans. Holding them to his face, he doesn't even bother going to his bedroom. Hands unbutton his pants and pushing his boxers out of the way so he can stroke himself. 

A groan leaves him, deep and guttural. Panting, thinking of you, he flops himself onto the sofa. Tipping his head back, eyes closed as he starts to think of you. Of rolling you onto your back, ripping the covers off. Hearing you gasp as he crawls on top of you. The realization dawning in your eyes as his metal hand pins your hands above your head. Would you scream? Have to shove your own underwear in your mouth. No. He'd hold a knife against your throat. Tell you not to move, or he'd kill you. 

Feel you struggle to not move, how your heart would hammer. The way he could smell your reaction to the words, he'd want to taste you. Feel you push against him, beg him to stop, beg him to not touch you. Knowing he wouldn't stop, listening to you pleading, all the while it's fueling him. Pushing your legs open, lying in bed naked like a whore, just begging for him to take you. Drag the knife along your skin, watch the faint scratch mark bloom under it. The way you'd squirm as he would run it down to hover over the most sensitive areas.

Hold the knife just under your navel. Pushed enough for you to feel the bite of it. Pressing your legs open enough for him to slide in. 

He moans, knowing how tight and warm you'd be. Knowing he won't last long the first time. Fuck into you fast and hard.

Bucky’s eyes opened as his release edged closer. One hand stripping his cock in quick strokes, your panties in the other. He brought them up to his face. The smell of you flooding his senses brings his release in a hot snap. Body locking up as come shot out of him in thick spurts. Holding his breath as he milks every last drop of pleasure out. 

Lying there, a panting mess, staring up at the ceiling. Fuck. It was so fucked up, and yet he wanted more. Wanted it more than anything. To actually have you under him. 

With a groan, he gets up, cleaning himself off in the kitchen. He won't be able to wait much longer. The need to finally have you was starting to overwhelm him.

When you wake up something feels off. Looking around the place you try to figure it out. What felt off? What was off?

You throw the blankets off and grab a pair of sweat pants sliding them on before going over to the window. Gazing out, you look back up to the roofline. Wondering if what you saw last night had anything to do with the feeling this morning. The man on the roof had moved fast, but not fast enough. Now your gut was telling you someone had been in your apartment. 

You walk out of the bedroom and go to the front door. It's not open or broken; there is no new visible damage. Closing and locking it, you walk back to your couch and open your laptop. Clicking into a hidden app for the wireless cameras you installed.

One sat in the middle of the kitchen/living room, another by the door, and one in your bedroom. They passed easily as CO2 alarms, and your landlord hadn't even noticed. Having had more than one creepy utility guy in your life, this gave you some peace. Anxiety creeping up the back of your skull, you start to scrub through the footage. 

Then, at 2:23 am, you see him. The door opens like he has a key, and he steps in carefully. There is no hesitation, his head moves back and forth scanning the place, taking it in. Then he moves inside.

You click over to your bedroom, eyes wide in horrific fascination as you see him come stand in your doorway. He stands for exactly two minutes before walking over and crouching by your head. 

You should be mortified, calling the police, your landlord, something. Instead, you rewind and watch three more times. 

Mouth hanging open. A twisting feeling spiralling in your lower abdomen, as your fingers caress the trackpad. Wetting your lips, you finally watch him get up from beside you. See him hesitate for a second before he goes around to the other side of the bed. Then standing for another twenty seconds before he carefully lifts the covers. 

Your mouth falls open as he stares at you, your face flushing, knowing you were bare save for the shirt. 

The twitch of your body has him dropping to the ground. You have no memories of waking up and staring at your phone. The intruder stays on the ground for several minutes. Can he hear you? 

Rewinding, you watch his head tilt as he comes into the apartment, then into your bedroom. It was as if he could hear you breathing. Who was this? Why was he in your apartment? 

You let the surveillance footage continue, and you see him grab a pair of underwear and then leave. All of that just for a pair of underwear?

“You, dirty bastard." A grin passes your lips as he walks out of the place with your underwear in his pocket. 

The next thirty minutes are spent rewatching the video. You zoom in, slow down, lighten the footage, trying to get a glimpse of him. At least you're assuming it's a he. He fills the whole door and moves like he owns the place. It shouldn’t make you excited, ot make your body ache in ways it hasn’t in so long. This kind of thing didn’t happen to you; it happened in books or on shows. 

An alarm goes off and you're already cussing yourself for not getting ready for work. Thankfully, it's not far away, and you're not busing from university. Closing the curtains, you strip and dig around for some work appropriate clothes. 

It hits you, you weren’t scared. You weren’t running for the phone or feeling like someone violated your privacy. No. You were just wondering if he would come back. 

The coffee shop was busy, with the coming and going of the usual weekend customers. It wasn't enough to keep your mind off the intruder. The shadow that had come in and stared at you before leaving. It shouldn't make you excited or have you clenching around nothing. Wondering what would have happened if he had come and you'd been awake. 

How did he get in? Was he someone from the apartment complex? Or did he slip in behind someone? Why your apartment? 

“Black coffee.” The voice is familiar, and you look up from your spot fixing pastries. 

It's the guy that grabbed the strawberry scone from last weekend. It would be hard to forget him, with dark, long hair and piercing blue eyes. The way he'd hold your eye contact like he didn't want to forget your face. The way a wolf watches a grouse.

“No scone?” You ask, letting a flirty smile cross your lips. Something about him felt so familiar.

He moves over, with his cup, to stand across from you. “Anything fresh?”

“They're all fresh, but I'd recommend the blueberry and lemon one.” You reply, purposefully drawing your bottom lip into your mouth. Shifting from foot to foot. 

“Well, I can't exactly turn down a sweet offer like that.” He stares back at you, his eyes looking down at where your teeth have bitten into your lip. 

“I will warm one up for you.” You reply cheerily. “You staying? Or going?”

“Thoughts, I'd stay for a bit.”

“Mind if I join you?” 

You were surprised when his cheeks flushed, his eyes glancing away for a second. Did you just get this big man all flustered?

“Ah, yeah. I'd like that.” He replies, finally looking back at you, eyes sparkling. Oh, he could do unspeakable things to you.

You let your coworker know you're having lunch. She gives you a wink as you grab tea and a sandwich from the case. Bouncing out to sit with him.

He sits, legs splayed, and the urge to just sit on his lap nearly takes over. Instead, you sit on the opposite side of the table. Trying not to show just how riled up you are, between this and intruder, you were a right mess

“You always have lunch with people you don't know?” He asks, taking a sip of his coffee. Your eyes take in the gloved hands and leather jacket.

You shrug, taking the tea bag out. Watching his eyes look at the bag. “You seem trustworthy.”

His eyes roll a little as he watches his surroundings. Completely aware of everything happening around him. “Can I ask your name? Or should I just refer to you as the scone guy?”

“Didn’t know I had a nickname already.” A small grin pulls on the corners of his mouth. “It's Bucky.” He says, causally, like it’s not an uncommon name. “What about you? Or do you want a nickname?”

You reply with your name, returning the grin. “What nickname would you have given me?”

Huffing a laugh, he looks down the street before looking back at you. “Bookworm.” 

It stops you, “Bookworm? How’d you know I like books?”

Gesturing at your name tag, beside it is a pin that is a stack of books. “Also, saw you at the library last week.” 

Cheeks flushing, you tuck some hair behind your ear, having completely forgotten the pin. 

“You should have said hi,” You reply, trying to keep yourself composed. Nerves are making your hands tremble. Hoping you were reading the situation right

He shrugs, eating his scone carefully, his eyes never leaving yours. “Didn’t think you’d remember me.”

A soft chuckle leaves you, practically melting under his stare. “Hard to forget someone like you.”

Shaking his head, he looks away, taking a sip of coffee, “I will, say hi, if I see you again.”

“Why don’t we exchange numbers? That way, if you want to go to the library, we could go together, maybe?” You watch his face, several expressions crossing it, unsure if you’ve pushed too hard. He licks his lips, smirks. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Bucky’s head was spinning; what the fuck just happened? You’d given him your number like it was nothing. As if he hadn’t been slinking around your room last night. Then jerking off with your panties on his face. 

His stomach lurches; something new and foreign pushes there. The confidence you had to just ask for his number, look at him like you saw him. No fear. No worry. 

He was torn between thinking you were either supremely stupid or incredibly confident. Maybe both. 

Where others won’t look at him, you would. They could feel his predatory nature, and yet it drew you to him. 

Pushing the door open, he has to hide a cringe when he sees that Steve is back. It’s his best friend, but days like today make him wish he lived alone. Not that Stark or Shield would ever allow for that. 

“Hey, you alright?” Steve’s brows furrow, like he could read his thoughts.

Bucky shrugs, taking off his jacket and dropping his keys by the door. “Yeah. How was work?”

“Simple, not sure why they asked me to come. I am not staying long, we got a-” He waves his hand, Bucky knowing Steve couldn’t tell him, national security or some bullshit. “Something big is going on. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone for.”

“Okay,” Bucky replies, trying to contain his excitement. “Can I help?”

Steve shakes his head, as expected. “Nah, not yet, buddy.” Patting Bucky’s upper arm, like that will somehow get rid of the last seventy years. “But soon, I am sure we could use you.”

“Right, sure. Well, I’ll be here, or somewhere.” Bucky says quietly, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. 

“I am going to pack up a few things.” Steve doesn’t leave right away, still looking at him, trying to get a read on him. “You sure you’re okay? Could always stay at the compound instead?”

Bucky shakes his head, “I am fine. Like it here, it’s quiet.”

Steve continues to watch him, seeming content with whatever he sees. He nods and leaves. 

The next two days, you start digging in, plugging his number into various search engines, along with the name he gave you. There is not much. Which is odd, most people had some internet history. 

Instead, you focus on his name, it’s different. More than likely a nickname. Yet, it still comes up dead, until you are scrolling through the fourth page of some search engine you can’t remember the name of. When the Howling commandos pop up, eyebrows knit. You click on it. It’s a fan page for a WW2 group. Scrolling down your heart stops when you see Bucky. A younger version of him, but not by much, standing beside Captain America himself. James ‘Bucky’ Bauchanan Barnes. 

You highlight the name and plug it back into the web. Articles start filling your feed, The Winter Soldier. There must have been hundreds of articles about him; you’d even seen some of them on the news. But you hadn’t put two and two together. The man who gave you his number was The Winter Soldier, a deadly assassin, brainwashed by HYDRA, and somehow had escaped it all with barely a mark to his name.

Fingers itching, you pull up several photos of him. The haunted look, the way he stared out of the photos like a man lost in time. Your thighs ached, you were tempted to text him, phone him. So many questions sat on the tip of your tongue. 

Sighing, you close your laptop, looking up at the ceiling, seeing the faux CO2 monitors. Mind flicking back to the intruder. You’d scrubbed through the footage from the rest of the day finding nothing interesting. 

You'd hoped he’d have come back. Even hoped he’d be waiting when you walked through the door. It was fucked up. Wrong in all the ways, yet fuck it, it made you hot. Makes your cunt throb and ache. Wondering just what it feels like for someone to make you do what they wanted. 

Hand slipping between your thighs, you push against your palm. Rubbing yourself through your shorts. Groaning, you wonder what it would feel like for him to take you. To push you down on the bed, hand on your neck, holding you down in place. Would he be bare, not bothering with a condom, just pushing in so you could feel every bit of him? 

Shifting your hand slips into your shorts. The curtains aren’t closed, the lights are on, and anyone could see you. That makes you want it more. You don’t touch right away, don’t push into the wetness you know you’ll find there. Instead, you trace along the vulva, feeling the softness, how swollen you are. The need making your hips push up against your hand. It wouldn’t be like this; there would be no gentleness, your shorts ripped down, his fingers shoved inside you. Would he touch you first, feel the wetness that he created? Or would he just shove himself inside, stretching you open without ceremony? 

A whimper leaves you as you, finally, push your own fingers inside. It’s not enough, you want more, want to ache, feel your body spread open. Rutting down on your fingers, you move your other hand down, one set pumping into your pussy, the other finding your nub. Body so sensitive and tight, you whimper. 

Laptop still open to pictures of Bucky. Imagining his big body covering yours, his face next to yours. Telling you to shut up, that you shouldn’t be lying in bed naked, unless you wanted it. That you’d take whatever he was giving, hand around your throat, squeezing hard enough that you’d feel yourself on the edge of blacking out. The way he would squeeze your hip hard enough to leave marks. Grunt and rutting into you like some beast, pushing so deep that you’d be sore for days. 

Your fingers move quickly, biting into your lip, holding your breath as the heat floods over you. Eyes locked on the picture of him. A choked sob leaves your mouth, as your inner walls squeeze against your own fingers. Release flooding down your already soaked thighs. You keep rubbing at your clit until you can’t take it anymore. Chest raising and falling with stuttered breaths, lying there a sprawling mess of sweat and come. 

“Fucking hell.” You giggle up at the ceiling. 

Bucky waited three days. Doing the same routine. Gets up, goes for a run, stops at the cafe for coffee, and goes home. Then back out, sometimes to the park, sometimes to the library. Always passing your building, and near the library. Places you could cross paths, but won’t. He knows your routine too well by now to cross your path by accident. It also means he isn’t being tailed. Shield is being sloppy as ever. Which leaves him to do whatever he pleases. 

He packs his bag with care, knives slotted into places, a d lock picks easy to grab. Everything he needs to make this a successful hunt. His whole body thrums with excitement, built on the knowledge that he gets to play out his most perverted fantasies. 

The best part, it was with you. A girl he couldn’t get out of his head. Saw in his dreams, in the shower, thinking of being buried inside you. 

Sure, he could have phoned you, asked you out for lunch, or to the library, whatever. It wouldan't be the same; there was no explaining his sick fantasies to you. A pretty smart girl like you wasn't going to be interested in a depraved fuck like him. Once you found out what he was, who he was, you'd be gone. That was okay, the fun was in the hunt and the stalking. To see the surprise and shock on your face.

The walk from his apartment to yours is a wide gap he needs to close. His fingers clench and unclench as he stutters to keep his pace even. To not draw attention to himself, staying in the shadows, head down, inconspicuous as the wind. He doesn't make eye contact with the few night time dwellers that walk by, just goes directly to your apartment. 

The front opens easily, and he is all but slamming the elevator button to your floor. Blood pulsing through his veins, cock half hard, mind drifting in a mist of want and lust. The elevator beeps, and he slips through the doors before they can fully open. 

He stops, calming himself enough to listen. There is silence, not the thrum of lights or patter of feet. He leans forward, trying to hear any signs of you.

Tools in hand, your door opens quietly. Ears pricked, he pushes it open, closing it just as quietly as the lock slides into place. His bag slides off his shoulder, mask slipping on, cuffs in hand. Moving towards the open door, he pauses to watch you. 

You are turned the other way, facing the window, the blanket having slid down your bare back. He has to hold back a growl. You were completely naked under there. Rolling his shoulders, he cracks his neck. Moving carefully, he places his bag by the edge of the bed, breath held as he moves the covers carefully off of you. 

There is no movement, your heartbeat doesn’t change. Bucky can feel sweat prickling on the back of his neck. Tongue wetting his lips as he moves. He rolls you onto your back, your hands snatched up, the cuffs link onto one, and your mouth opens. A gasp escapes you as your eyes blink up at him. Vision blurred and confused; as he works the other cuffs through your headboard to lock your other wrist.

“What? No-o-.” You stutter out, wrist pulling at the cuffs. Your voice breathy as a knife from his side is up and under your throat. 

“Quiet.” He whispers as he straddles your hips, deep pants rattling his chest. You were so small and soft underneath him, eyes wide with tears. “Don’t move.”

You nod your head, teeth chattering, “Please-

The knife pushes just enough to break the skin, your whole body goes stiff, stomach trembling as you try and hold yourself still. He lifts himself a little, eyes trailing down your body. The way your tits shake as you shudder, stomach sucking as you try to catch your breath. 

Fucking perfect. 

He keeps the knife pressed as his other hand trails down your body. He wants to take the mask off and taste you, but he can’t let you see him. 

“Stay still,” He grunts and moves the knife, resting it on your sternum. Grabbing his belt, he slides it out quickly, moving forward to wrap it around your eyes. 

“No, please,” You whimper, trying to squirm away. His fingers grab your hair to pull you to look at him through his mask. “I want to see-”

“Don’t make me ask again.” He grits out, his voice so deep it rumbles out of him like thunder. 

You shrink down as he wraps the belt around your head covering your eyes. A sob leaves you, but you try to keep quiet.

Bucky stands looking at you, your thighs clamped together, arms stretched above your head, looking like a prize. Cake wrapped in whipped cream, and he is going to eat you up. 

Carefully, he removes the mask, his shirt comes next, and then his pants. Bucky making sure you can hear every movement. He keeps his glove on his metal hand, but removes it from his right. 

The first touch makes your skin jump, your mouth opens, and then it slams shut. A grin spreads across his face as he leans down to lick along your collarbone, feeling your body trying to pull away. The metal hand holds you firm, not letting you squirm away. Letting himself taste the sweat, the soap you use, all of you right here. Bucky moves from your collarbone down over your breast, hand squeezing it hard enough to make you whine. 

He picks the knife up and runs it over top of the tender flesh of your breast. Watching you struggle not to stay quiet as the knife scratched the surface of your skin. Not enough to bleed, but enough for it to leave a mark, as the knife moves, his tongue follows after. Drawing swirling lines that are then soothed by his tongue. 

The tip of his knife pressed against your nipple. You gasp, hips moving, stomach flexing at it. A deep chuckle spills from his chest at being able to get a noise out of you. 

He removes the knife and bites hard against your breast, your head turning as you try to muffle the scream that escapes out of you. He grins, looking down at the black and purple mark he leaves. Determined to leave several more, to watch you try and keep your composure. Body trying to twist, to move, anything, to relieve the pressure of his teeth and tongue that covers you in dark marks. 

“I c-c-can’t,” You finally snap as he leaves another large bruise just below your naval. 

He moves, parting your thighs easily, and you barely even fight. “Sweetheart, you don’t have a choice.”

A trembling gasp escapes you as he pushes your thighs up, heels pressed up, and knees pushed out.  Exposing you to the air and his touch. You struggle now, the realization sinking in as you fight against the cuffs. Small huffs and gasps, music to his ears as you pull against the cuffs. 

“Squirm, scream, you’re not gonna be getting away unless I let you.” He murmurs, knife running up your thigh, while his bare hand goes up the other. “If you behave, I’ll let you live.”

The feeling of you freezing up has him leaking. He keeps the knife pushing against your thigh, but uses his other hand to squeeze the base of his dick. 

“I-I-I’ll be good, I promise.” Tears have started to trail down your cheeks, he can’t help himself and leans forward to lick up the trail. Making you cringe back.

“Be quiet, stay still, and take what I give you.” He whispers into your ear before biting down where your neck and shoulder meet.

Your whole body is uncontrollably shaking as you try to keep yourself together. It’s fucking beautiful, exposed, and out of control. Just waiting to see what he’d do next. 

The knife is placed on your sternum again, your hips squirming, you aren't trying to move. He can feel the restraint, feel that you're trying to reel yourself in, but you can’t help it. There is no waiting anymore, one hand gripping your hip, the glove biting hard enough it leaves bruises. The other is pressing his cock against your core. 

“Fuck,” Bucky moans, you’re soaking wet, there is a spot on the sheets already. “You’re enjoying this.” 

A whine comes from the back of your throat as he pushes forward. Even being so wet, you’re squeezing him. Inner walls locked tight around his cock. Body is so tense that it sucks at him.

“Greedy whore,” He cusses, snapping his hips up so that he sinks all the way in, pressing deep against your cervix. Your teeth sinking into your lip, wrist straining against the metal cuffs, neck straining back. “Soaking wet, tied up, naked under the sheets, just begging me to take you.”

He sets a brutal pace, pulling you down onto him again and again, eyes transfixed on where the two of you are joined. The slick slapping of skin against skin echoing over and over. Leaning over you, he listens to the small, breathy noises that escape and feels you clamping down around him. 

“You going to come just from me fucking you?” Bucky hisses into your ear, panting as you squeeze around him again. “Can feel every time you move, know how much you want this.”

Your lips were bitten raw, as you tried desperately to shake your head, no.

Bucky’s hand grips your jaw. “Can’t escape it,” Somehow picking up the pace, making the bed shake with the movements. “Fucking enjoying this. That’s messed up.”

When your hips start moving with him, he almost loses it right there, eyes going wide as he watches you. 

“Greedy cunt. Can’t believe you.” He growls, squeezing your hips to pull you tight. “Do it.” The demand in his voice makes your mouth fall open. “Come, while I am fucking you. Being used like a bitch in heat.”

Your body jerks, and he grunts, laughing as you cum all over him. His fingers moving down to play with the wet there, not touching where you want him to. The way you squeeze him and suck him deeper has his own release crawling up his spine. His hips start to lose rhythm as he grinds as deep as he can. 

“Much as I want to fill you,” Panting against your neck. “Can’t be leaving anything behind.”

He pulls out, your hips immediately searching for him. Which prompts him to slap his hand down over top of your cunt. A crushed cry escapes your lips as you try to curl in and away from the slap. He hits your pussy twice more to prove his point.

“You already got more than you should have,” He grits out, stripping himself quickly as he pushes himself up onto his knees. His head tipped back, mouth open as he came all over your chest and stomach. Stroking until it becomes too sensitive to continue.

Staring down, he takes a look at you, committing it to memory; he’d take a picture if he could. Instead, he falls back onto his heels, watching your breath slow down, your heart hammering like you were being chased. The thought of chasing you makes his dick twitch. He wants to go again. To keep you here for himself, forever. 

Instead, he drags his fingers through the mess, and pats at your cheek. “Open up,’

There is hesitation, you swallow, and he smacks you harder, “Open.” 

You finally open, and he shoves his fingers in, pushing his come into your mouth. He holds your face in place as he feeds you more, until there is nothing left on your chest. Eyebrows knit, he pats your mouth, and you close it without being told. 

“Might have to come back, you did so good,” His tone condescending, as he shifts off of you. 

Dressing quickly, and rolling his shoulders, feeling the tension ease out of him. “Haven’t had someone enjoy that before.” Mocking you as he slips the mask back on.

There is no gentleness as he pulls the blind fold off and tucks his knife away. You’re looking away, cheeks flushed and stained with what had happened. Bucky clicks off your cuffs, knowing that whatever fight was in you is gone. 

Slipping the bag onto his back, he looks back at you. You’re still lying there, eyes closed, hands still above your head, legs still splayed. The marks covering your body will be there for days, if not longer. He should feel bad for what he did, but he doesn't.  

He goes to leave when he hears you shift, turning back, you've moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Looking up at him from red rimmed eyes.  

“You’ll come back?” Your voice is hoarse, eyes dark with something he can’t place.

Something warm floods through him, surprise, shock, something he didn’t know how to describe. Bucky doesn’t reply; he just leaves. 

You crawl into the shower and turn it on as hot as possible; every part of your body is aching. Teeth chattering, shaking in the shock of what just happened. Your brain was mush, leaking out of your pussy all over the floor. You couldn’t figure out how to feel. So, instead, you just sat on the floor of your shitty shower and let the scolding hot water hit you. 

Head clunking against the tiles, you tried to remember what he smelled like, what he sounded like. It was all so fast, and yet it seemed to last for so long. You felt drunk, drugged, dizzy. Looking down at your chest, covered in the scratch marks and bruises that he had left. Fingers tracing the path that the knife had dragged. 

He could have cut you open, could have killed you. He didn't, though; he kept his word and seemed to revel in the way you had reacted. It had been unexpected. He probably thought you’d have fought back more, would have screamed more, tried to get him off of you. You hadn’t. 

Shame should be crawling in, disgust, fear, terror, something logical. Something other than contentment. A feeling of satisfaction that you’d never felt before. Never felt with anyone else that had been in your bed. It didn’t make sense. It was wrong, it was terrible. 

A sharp giggle spills out of you, bouncing off the walls. Your fingers pressing and tracing along the bruises and marks. Something had snapped inside you, and you weren’t sure you wanted it fixed. 

You took the next day off from classes, and it didn’t feel real. For a good hour, you lay on the floor nude just staring up at the ceiling. The windows cracked open, curtains just parted enough so that the breeze could hit you. 

Something had settled into your stomach, a buzz that made you tingle. Everything still hurt, tylenol and a good deal of tea had eased most of it.

Your fingers couldn’t stop fluttering over the different marks, pressing on them, watching them change colours. Every touch flashed a memory. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel him. The knife pressing in, how his deep voice rumbled against your chest. How he pressed into you with no prep, stretching you to your limit, it had burnt and ached so deeply. Your pussy is still sore now. 

It was hard to stop feeling down against your vaginal channel. The way it would clench and make you shudder when your fingers would run down there. Feeling your cheeks warm up, eyes flutter closed. 

You try to remember what you’d seen; it was the same guy who had broken in. The way he had filled up your whole view when your eyes had snapped open. He was wearing a mask of some kind, like one paintballers used, dressed in all black. The way he’d work so fast to get your hands cuffed, stripping your bed of all its blankets. He’d done this before; he was well practiced and knew what to do. 

Then you’d had the balls to ask if he’d come back? 

God, something really had broken in you. The fact you’d almost hoped he would come back tonight, or maybe the next. Even with the ache and the bruises, the number of marks that were still fresh. It didn’t matter; you wanted his hands on you. 

Sitting up you think about the gloves. He’d been wearing gloves, leather of some kind. He’d left one on, why? Blinking a few times your brain goes to Bucky, how he’d always have gloves on. Never taking them off. 

“No, no,” You say out loud, finally pushing yourself to your feet. “Not a chance in hell. There is no way.”

You thought of Bucky, how he talked about seeing you in the library. How you had found out he was The Winter Soldier. He would have the knowledge, the ability to figure out where you lived. Heart pounding in your head, you walked into your bedroom and looked at the marks on your headboard. Glancing at the phone charging beside your bed.

There was one way to figure out if the man who had broken into your home and made you see stars was, in fact, Bucky. You had his number and knew he lived nearby. Just had to text him. Picking up the phone, you flick it open and scroll to the number, biting the edge of your thumb as you look at it. 

“What am I thinking?” You curse out loud. Pacing back and forth in your bedroom. “It’s not him, it won’t be him. Right?”

“Might have to come back, you did so good,”

You kept trying to hear his voice, replaying the words over and over again. Trying to remember what Bucky sounded like, but you’d only spoken to him a handful of times 

“Damn it,” You huff, and finally decide to get dressed and consume something that wasn’t tea and painkillers. 

You waited until Friday before texting him, classes dragged, and your focus was definitely not there. Thankfully, you’d been able to breeze by them without too much difficulty. No one had seen the bruises, thankful for scarves and large sweaters did the trick. That and most of them were collarbone or lower, save for one where your neck and shoulder met. It was a shame really. You could have used the looks; maybe have kept a few of the douchebags away.

There should have been revulsion at your thought, but there wasn't any. You didn't need anyone's approval for what got you off, for what made you ache. If that came in the form of a tall, broad, masked man, so be it.  Which was why you were texting Bucky, cause you needed to know. You needed something, maybe it wasn’t him, but you couldn’t stop drawing parallels. 

How many other men fit the description? Okay, maybe several, but the fact that he had suddenly showed up in your life felt relevant. 

Chewing on your lip, you message him. 

You: Hey, got any plans for the weekend?

Bucky has been trying not to think about you, about the night, not obsessing over every detail possible. The urge to write it all down had been gnawing at him. So much, that he’d bought a journal, detailing it all out as best he could with words. He’d then spend part of the day hollowing out a section of wall so that he could hide the journal away. If anything happened, he’d burn the damn thing, but for now it was his secret. 

He’d never wanted to remember something so vividly, wanting to hold onto the moments. They were brief encounters, one-offs, a way to release energy and scratch that itch that could only be satisfied by taking something not given. Not with you, it’s like you’d torn him open and poured yourself inside of him. His brain was constantly hearing the way you’d whined and whimpered under him. The look on your face when you realized what had happened. How hard you'd tried to follow the rules, even when he inflicted pain. 

You hadn’t been scared of him. 

What he thought got him off;  the fear, watching them realize they had no control, no way of escape. Paled in comparison to seeing you sitting there wrecked, asking for him to come back. It touched on something deep in his chest. That made him want to go back, to see if you really meant what you said. Would you let it happen? Would it be the same if you didn't fight back? 

Then his phone buzzed. He hadn't thought about texting you. It didn't fit the game; it felt too easy to just message you. Yet you just had. 

Asking what he was doing this weekend.

Bucky stares at the phone, trying to piece together what to say. This was new, unfamiliar territory, like a dance step that he was learning. He knew you worked the closing shift Saturday until 5; then opened Sunday and Monday. 

You'd taken a day off from university after your encounter. Bucky had wondered if you'd run, go to the police, or something. Instead, you'd just spent the day in your apartment, and then went back to school the next day like nothing happened. 

Bucky: Got no plans. You?

Bubbles popped up immediately, as you started to text him back. 

You: I am free tomorrow evening. Want to grab dinner?

You'd just been assaulted, and he'd broken into your apartment. Now you wanted to go for dinner?

He shouldn't go. The hunt was over; that was the whole point. Stalking, finding, preying, and leaving, but he couldn't get you out of his head. The need to see you was outweighing the logical part of him. 

Then what? Does this just become a thing? A relationship. Pretending like he didn't defile you and revel in every second of it? 

Swallowing, he puts his phone down. Starting to pace back and forth. Everything was so much easier under Hydra; he'd be brought back, wiped, and put under. With only a glimmer of his prey to play with in his dreams. Now he had choices, options. Paths that could make things either worse or better? 

What if you wanted it? Wanted him to hurt you? To take what he needed when he needed? Was that possible? 

The butterflies in your stomach make your hands shake. You put on something cute, but not over the top. Desperately trying to not look like you are -well- desperate. A shawl going over your shoulders, pair of low heels, comfortable and adorable.   

Letting out a huff, you fix your make-up and put on a soft smelling perfume. Trying to calm your thumping heart. 

You weren’t certain it was Bucky, the guy who bought recommended scones and blushed at your words. It felt odd even putting him in that category. He seemed so sweet; yet, he fit the criteria. You knew your pattern recognition skills were good, good enough that they had gotten you into University. 

The duality of it is what made you pause. A soft spoken, almost gentle man was the one who followed you. Learned where you lived, and then broke into your apartment, twice. It felt wrong, dirty, but more as if you had uncovered a gold coin in the sand. There was every possibility you were wrong, but you hoped you were right. 

Bucky stands outside your apartment, the urge to run is making his body tense. He shouldn't be doing this, it was not part of the plan. This was how he got caught, how he finally got put down for good. It was what he deserved, he deserved much worse, maybe this would be a mercy. 

He'd scooped out the small restaurant you'd suggested. Dug through police bulletins, looking for anything that said this was a set up. He'd found nothing. 

Yet as you came to the door, his heart was pounding. 

“Hey,” You say with a small smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” Bucky replies as smoothly as possible.

When he helps you take the shawl off, he sees the edge of his mark on your skin. The one he'd sloppily left where shoulder and neck met. It made his heart jump, but he swallowed it down and sat across from you. Watching you casually adjust your shirt so that it was covered. 

Were you doing this on purpose?

He sat watching you, his own jacket off, gloves still on. Bucky had made sure to wear different ones. These were brown, stiff, not as soft or well worn as the ones he used that night. The way your eyes had flickered to them had his teeth on edge. Something was up, and he wasn’t sure what it was. 

“How was your week?” The question is so simple, but loaded. Just waiting for someone to depress the trigger. 

Your eyes flick over the menu, “I don’t know, it was-” Your lip is drawn into your mouth, and he remembers how raw it was that night. “Interesting.” Eyes going to his, watching him closely. “What about you? How are you liking the city?” 

The ice was cracking underneath him, and he couldn’t help stepping forward. “Didn’t get to go out as much as I would like. My roommate is out for a while; he knows the city better than me. So I spent most of the time at home.” 

“Should have messaged me. Could have skipped class and shown you around.” You tease, a small smile turning up your lips. “We could have gotten lost together.”

He chuckles as the waiter comes by, and you both order. Let the waiter take the menus. 

“Didn’t think you’d have been interested,” Bucky says honestly, taking a sip of water. 

Your head tilts, like you’re trying to gauge if he was telling the truth. “I don’t give my number to just anyone.”

“Just random men you’ve only met a few times.” He replies dryly, making you roll your eyes as you sip on your own water. 

“Said, I thought you were trustworthy. I stand by that.” Your cheeks go pink as you look at Bucky, your fingers going to press on a bruise. He knew there was one right under your fingertips. Watching as you worked at it, like a fond memory was playing in your mind. 

Teeth gritting, he swallows, “Not everyone is who they seem to be.”

The waiter comes and drops off a plate of appetizers. You pick up one and chew thoughtfully, looking around at the small place.

“So who are you then?” You ask, your entire attention on him, a bug under a microscope. Your eyes collecting each detail, each micro-expression, filing them away behind walls he wants to dismantle. Piece by piece. 

He leans back in his chair, gloves running over his thighs, “What do you want to know?”

Shifting in your chair, you lean forward, lips parted slightly. “The gloves, you always have them on. Why?”

Huffing, he carefully peels off both gloves, revealing his right hand. Warm, human, normal. Then his left hand, silver, pock market metal, slides and clinks as he flexes it. Putting both on the table for you to look at. You barely even react; your hands move onto the table, pausing. 

“Can I?” You ask, looking for permission when he never asked for yours.

He nods, moving them forward so you can trace over the metal one. Then over the warm one.  Your hands are so soft, touch feather light, as if scared you’d spook him. Bucky turns them both over for you to inspect. Watching your brows furrow as you look at the differences and follow the ridges of each one. 

The waiter comes, and Bucky tucks them under the table. Hoping the man didn’t see anything. If he did, he doesn’t say anything, just puts down the plates, and leaves with an ‘enjoy your meal’. 

“I like to keep a low profile,” Bucky says, quietly slipping the gloves back on. “Gloves make it easier.”

You hum, pushing the food around on your plate, “So that people don’t recognize you? Worried they’d judge you if they did?”

The fork he was holding clinks against the plate louder than he meant it to. You knew, had known, when you messaged him, and you were still sitting across from him. 

“I am sorry,” You say softly, but there is no apology in your words. “I looked you up, you felt so familiar. To be fair, it was hard to find out who you were. Guessing, shield is good at covering their tracks.” 

“Why are you here?” Bucky asks, blunt to the point, not hiding the anger that is pooling there. 

You sit up straight and take a bite of food, free hand going up to a mark again. The hair on the back of his neck is standing up.

“You know why.” You look directly at him, fingers pulling back the shirt to reveal the bruises. “Or am I wrong?” 

The way Bucky’s eyes darken tells you everything you need to know. It was him. Sitting across from you, neither of you had touched the food since the confession. The tension between the two of you crackles, a heat that had been brewing like a wildfire in the middle of July. 

“Why?” Bucky hushes out, the low tone that you heard that night finally peaking out. “Why did you ask for me to come here?”

Your heart feels trapped in your chest, lungs too big for their cages. There was no plan; you hadn’t thought about what would happen next. Had just gone forward, thinking he would take the reins.

“I had to know.” You swallow, trying to somehow reel in all the feelings. The impulse for you to jump across the table and either deck him or kiss him was making you squirm Just something other than sitting here, pretending like nothing has happened. 

Bucky looks around the place and flags down the waiter. “Check.”

Then he turns towards you, whatever mask he had on is gone. Nothing but a predator sits across from you, and your heart slows. Shoulders relaxing, breath evening out. Finally, you could see who he really is. 

“I had to know who it was. Who you were.” You reply as the waiter brings the check. He slides his card to the waiter without even looking at them, keeping his eyes focused on you. 

He is up and moving as soon as the receipt hits the table; his left hand grabs your arm hard enough to leave a mark. You bite your tongue to stop the squeak from leaving your mouth as he drags you out of the restaurant. 

There is no fight; you’re trying to get your footing, and he is moving so fast that it’s hard to keep up. Finally, he eases up as he gets you outside the place and down a darkened alleyway. Pushing you up against the wall. 

“You are a really stupid slut,” He hisses, holding you there pressed against the wall. The concrete is digging into your back. Feet on tiptoes as he easily lifts you off the ground. 

A grin splits your face, and you just stare back, “You didn’t have to come, but you did anyway.”

He looks away, a smirk touching his lips. “You asked me if I would come back. After everything I did to you.”

“And you did.” You hush back, leaning forward, so that you’re only inches from him. 

He moves forward, lips crashing into your face, and you push back just as hard. It’s more a crash of teeth and tongues, being bitten and mauled, than kissing. It’s a fight that you don’t want to win, but you push back, knowing that he wants a fight. He needs a fight, needs to feel you push back and resist. Your teeth sink into his bottom lip with enough force for him to grunt when you draw blood. 

Hands fumble with your clothes, pushing your shirt up so he can see the marks he left on your body.

“You didn't try to hide them.” He spits it at you, venom lacing the words. “What if I just killed you right now?” 

His metal hand clamps around your throat, and you can feel the strength pushing against your windpipe. You move your head, trying to get enough air to reply.

“You'd-” inhaling “-have- killed me.” You struggle, feeling him ease up. “You would have killed me that night.” 

His eyes widen just a fraction, enough that you know you are correct. You expect him to grab you, push you against a wall, knock you out. Instead, he looks around. Clocking a camera near the corner. A growl leaves his throat as he turns back to you.

“Your place. Go.” 

Bucky doesn’t remember getting to your apartment. Just a blur of lights and sounds, and it taking too long. He is half hard following you into the building. His hand clamped in yours, it would look romantic if he wasn't holding on hard enough to nearly break bones. In the elevator, he holds stiff; he can feel how you shiver. The smell of your arousal fills the small space. Making him want to rip your clothes off. 

The elevator dings, and you're dragging him down the hall. The door clicks open, and he's in. He lets go, making sure the door is bolted shut. Watching you take off your shawl and hang it up. You go to take off your shoes.

“Stop.” Bucky hisses out. Watching you freeze in place. “Kneel.”

You do as you’re asked, dropping down to your knees. His eyes following the movement, head spinning at how you just dropped down at his words. A laugh boils out of his throat at the picture in front of him.

“You actually want this?” He barks out, a condescending tone dripping over every letter.

Not replying you just look up at him, body rigid, lips trembling. Tears pressing at the corners of your eyes.

“How fucked up are you?” He hisses, grabbing your jaw so that you can't look away. “Wanting me to do whatever I like to you? Practically begging for it?”

You don't look away as he crouches down so that he is eye-level with you. Body vibrating as he watches you. 

“Do you know what you're asking for? What I can do to you?” Bucky leans in, breath ghosting over your skin. 

You keep still, not answering him, fingers clenched together in your lap.

“Answer me.” He whispers, keeping his voice even, in control, always in control. 

“I do.” The two words stuttered out. 

He lets go, leaning back, hands rubbing against his face. Pushing his hair back as more sadistic. laughter leaves his chest, a rare smile cracks open his face. 

“Fuck. I almost feel bad for you.” Bucky grins, watching you again. The way your eyes are wide, how you're not even shaking anymore, just waiting for his instructions. “Let's see if you want me after I am done.”

Your heart is thudding in your chest, eyes blurred, body thrumming with heat. Terrified wasn't the right word. How could you both be scared and incredibly turned on at the same time? His voice was vibrating every bone in your body; the need to listen was the only thing you could focus on. 

“Come here, take off my shoes.” Bucky's demand, there was no question in his voice. 

On your hands and knees, you went and did what he asked. Carefully lifting one foot and removing the boot before doing the other. Your hands vibrate as you wait for the next order. 

He walks past you into your apartment, it doesn't feel like yours anymore. Opening a cupboard, he grabs a glass and some water. Bucky knew where everything was in your place. Walking over to your couch, he sits down, looking out the window. 

“Come here, on your knees.” He orders, which has you crawling towards him. His legs are spread wide, and you let yourself come sit between them. 

Keeping your hands on your lap, you look up at him. Huffing, he places his hands on both of his thighs.

“You know what to do.” He says, tongue wetting his lips.

Your stomach twists, the urge to not mess up sitting in the back of your throat. If you did something wrong, the little bit of autonomy could be stripped from you. Or he'd just outright kill you. 

Fingers fumbling, you carefully move and push his jacket away from his lap. He moves his hips, tilting towards your fingers. You grab at his belt, undoing it and pulling it out. Placing it aside, wondering if he'd use it on you again. Next, button and zipper, you try not to take too lon,g grabbing the edge of his underwear to drag them down enough for it to release his cock. 

He was only half hard, his cock twitches and moves 

as your fingers brushed over it.

“Go on,” He says, voice deep enough to make you shiver. 

You stroke the smooth skin a couple of times, feeling your mouth start to water. Fingers feeling the veins, how the skin moved as you pumped him. Other hand on his thigh, feeling the muscles tighten as you finally lean forward to lick at the head. A small breath releases from his chest as you swirled around it. Memorizing the way he tasted and felt. Taking your fingers off him, you sucked him deeper, free hand going to feel his balls.

One hand clamped down on your head, pushing you deeper. A muffled whimper leaves you as he hits the back of your throat. You struggle to get a breath in through your nose as he pushes into your throat. You gag, tears starting to fall, his hips flexing, as he lazily fucks into your throat. 

“Crying already,” He grits, before letting you up. “Like when you cry.”

Gasping for breath, you pull off for a second. Not bothering to wipe at your eyes, you go back to licking and sucking at his cock. Your hand below rolling his balls, squeezing and thumbing at them. As you started to bob up and down in earnest. Tongue sticking out as drool drips down onto the base. Both hands grab the side of your head, and his hips buck.  

Coughing and gagging, you let go of his balls, placing both hands on his thighs. Trying to find something to ground you. The unrelating pace leaves you gasping for breath. Snot and drool dripping everywhere, tears blurring your eyes as make-up leaks in. You feel yourself getting dizzy as your air begins to run out. Hands digging into his thighs, hoping you won't suffocate with his dick down your throat.

Bucky finally eases off you. You gasp for air, snot and tears covering you. As you swallow and cough. His laugh rings in your ears as you pant. His fingers find your chin and tip your face to his. You had to look like a mess, make-up having run from your eyes. Yet the heat between your legs betrays how this was affecting you. 

“Finish what you started,” Bucky pushes at the back of your head. 

You nod your head, chest stuttering as you take him back in your mouth. Fingers spread on his jean covered thighs, holding yourself in place. Taking a deep breath, you suck him down, pushing yourself so that your nose presses against the skin on his lower stomach. It makes him moan, which just makes you wetter. You bob up and down, trying to keep the same relentless pace he'd shown you he enjoyed. His hips flexed, and you somehow found a rhythm that allowed you to breathe just enough to stay conscious. 

“Fuck, almost there.” He growled, hands back on your head.

His hips snapped up quickly, and you let go of the small amount of control you had. Your head is being held down as he fucks your face hard, a groan leaving him as he finally buries himself deep. You cough and gag, as come fills your mouth and throat. Desperately trying to swallow and get air as the world spins. Your hands digging into his thighs. 

Finally, he eases up, letting you pull off with a sickening slurping sound. You have to sit back, coughing and gasping. Chest rising and falling as your vision finally clears. 

The salty musky taste of him still sitting in your mouth. Your fingers touch your abused lips, feeling the slick there. You look up at Bucky, who's lying back, sweat on his brow, cock still half hard against his stomach. 

Without thinking, you lick your lips, fingers gathering the slick and sucking on it. His eyes open, watching you as you lean down and clean his stomach with your tongue. 

A grunt leaves him as his dick twitches and starts to get hardened again. The effect you had on him, fueling your own arousal. 

“Get up.” Bucky hushes, you pause for a second, and he barks it again. The first time he has raised his voice. 

You scramble up, wiping at your eyes, smearing the makeup across your face. He stares at you.

Bucky’s still a little shocked you didn't fight back. He could feel the nail marks in his thighs healing, but that was it. You'd even eaten the come off him.

“Strip. Leave on your underwear and bra.” He drawls, hand finding his sensitive cock and stroking it slowly. 

You glance at the window, lip drawn into your mouth, then back at him.

His brows raise, and you do what he asks. Shirt first, you place it on the coffee table, before toeing off your shoes, and then bottoms. You stand there in a pair of matching blue underwear.

“You put those on on purpose?” Bucky asks, thumb swiping over the tip of his cock. 

“Yes,” You reply, voice hoarse and cracked from the abuse. 

“You are whore, the way you let me use your mouth. Can see a wet spot on your underwear. Getting wet from me face fucking you?” He teases, hand stopping at the base of his cock. “Bet you'd let me fuck you in that alley.” A smug grin on his face. “ Let me take you anywhere I want. Just bend you over and stick it in.”

Your lip chewed raw, you nod, fingers twitching at your sides.

“I thought I was fucked up.” He chuckles, looking out the window for a moment. “Go clean up. Then display yourself on the bed.”

You scramble away, Bucky's eyes staring after your ass as you leave. He stood, shutting the curtains, and stripping himself out of his own clothes. Digging into a pocket, he pulls out a flip knife with a smile across his face. Flipping it around in his palm.

He hadn't decided if he would keep you alive or not. The idea of having a toy to use when he wanted was tempting. It wouldn't be the same as stalking them down; the biggest problem was that you now knew who he was. 

You stepped out of the bathroom, walking confidently into the bedroom. Fuck, he couldn't wait to sink back into you. 

Moving, he went to your bedroom door, where you had stripped the blankets off, having folded and placed them on the floor. You'd lie on the bed, arms above your head, legs spread, head on a pillow. Stomach rising and falling in slow breaths. 

He flicks the knife up in the air, and your eyes follow it. Stomach clenching as he came over and ran it over your skin. Most of the bruises had yellowed and faded. The scratches were still there. Now he'd added new ones. 

The knife slips under the bra straps, and he cuts each off. Dragging the knife over each breast and leaving new scratches. Then cut the centering of it, letting your breast spill out. He doesn't mark them with his mouth this time, instead leaving more scratches on your trembling flesh. 

Your underwear was cut off next and he leaned down to smell you. It was delicious. He spread your legs and let himself tongue at the wet fold there. Might as well indulge himself. 

Hips moving up against his face. He uses his metal arm to hold you in place. A shutter leaves you at the cool touch against skin. He drinks it all in, nipping at the sensitive skin. Which causes you to try and move away from him. He holds firm, leaving marks and bruises on your thighs and vulva. 

Your hands push at him, and you beg so pretty, but as soon as he sucks on your clit you're coming undone. He repeats this over and over, bringing you over the edge until you're nearly screaming for him to stop. 

Your body is shaking as he removes himself. Knife back, he puts it up against your neck as he kisses you. Pushing your own come into your mouth. A choked sob leaves you, your eyes red from tears. 

He doesn't speak, just pushes your legs up and lines himself up. Placing the tip of his cock at the entrance. You whine trying to move down onto him. Instead, he grabs your hips and pulls himself all the way in. Ripping a sob out of you. 

The knife is dropped away, and his metal hand grips your throat. He squeezes it, panic lacing your eyes as he starts to fuck into you with abandon. Pulling all the way out and slamming into you over and over again. 

Your hands scratch at his metal one, unable to remove it. Body bucking only fueling his need, making the pinnacle of his release come spiraling closer. The realization that he wasn't going to stop choking you, making you thrash against the bed. A roar of laughter echoes in the bedroom. As his right hand holds you against him. Metal hand tightening, your eyes rolling, mouth open as you gasp for air. Letting go, you gulp air down,  just as he pulls out. He comes, barely touching himself, a mess spilling onto your stomach. 

Sitting back on his haunches, he looks down at you. Chest heaving as you do the same, he looks down to see a massive wet spot below you. 

“Jesus, you soaked the bedsheets.” He huffs, looking up, you've passed out. 

You wake up alone, sore, and stunned that you're alive. You're also clean, with new sheets on the bed, and a blanket over you. A glass of water along with some pills sits on your nightstand. A note beside it.

Send the video to me

A snort leaves you. That was the closest you'd ever get to a love note from him. 

The End

You didn’t have to.

You felt him.

“Thought you were clever,” came a deep voice, low and calm.

You didn’t answer. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“You’re bleeding,” he added, and it almost sounded like concern. “Could’ve broken your neck falling like that.”

He crouched beside you slowly. Not rushed. Not angry.

Calculated.

“I should break it for you,” he murmured, gloved fingers brushing your hair from your face. “But then you wouldn’t be able to walk. And you’re going to walk, sweetheart. All the way back with me.”

You finally looked at him.

His mask was off. That was new.

So was the expression in his eyes.

Not mechanical. Not cold.

Hungry.

“I’m not going back,” you whispered.

“Oh, you’re not.” He tilted his head. “Not to them.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m not giving you back,” he said simply. “You think I’d let them put their hands on you again after you ran? After I had to track you down like a goddamn animal?”

He lifted you easily into his arms. You kicked, screamed, clawed at his face—but he didn’t flinch.

He smiled.

“Struggle all you want, кукла,” he murmured. “You’re mine now.”

You woke up somewhere new.

Not a cell. Not Hydra.

A cabin.

The scent of cedar, smoke, and blood.

You were on a cot with your ankle wrapped, wrists tied loosely to the headboard with leather belts. Not harsh. Not cutting. Just… unavoidable.

The room was warm. A fire flickered nearby.

He sat in the corner, elbows on his knees, watching.

“You slept twelve hours,” Bucky said softly.

“You kidnapped me.”

“I saved you.”

He stood, slowly. His movements were always deliberate, quiet in a way that felt wrong. Predatory. You weren’t sure if you were the prey or the prize.

“Hydra would've killed you for what you took,” he continued. “You know that, right? That intel you stole? Buried codes, black-site names… you think they’d let that go?”

“I didn’t steal it for them.”

“I know,” he said, and walked toward you. “You stole it for you. And now I have it.”

You stared. “You kept it?”

“I kept you.” His eyes flickered. “That was the deal.”

“There was no deal—”

“There was, sweetheart. You ran, and I chased. You screamed, and I listened. And now you’ll stay.”

He untied your wrists with practiced ease. You didn’t fight. You were too stunned.

Too scared.

Bucky stepped back and dropped a bundle of clothes on the bed.

“You’re not a prisoner,” he said. “But if you run again, I will chain you to the bed.”

And then, just like that, he left.

The days passed strangely.

He cooked for you. Watched you eat. Sat near the fireplace with books in his lap like he wasn’t the same man who used to slit throats in the name of command.

He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t demand anything—at first.

You learned his patterns. When he would leave. When he would linger.

You counted the knives. Learned the creak in the floorboards. Found the key to the front door tucked in the lining of his coat. Almost.

But he always knew.

“You think I can’t feel when you’re lying?” he said one night, voice barely louder than the wind outside. “I can smell it on you. Like fear. Like heat.”

You swallowed hard.

“I’m not lying.”

He smiled.

“Then come here.”

You didn’t move.

His eyes darkened. “I said—”

“I’m not scared of you.”

It was the worst thing you could’ve said.

Because he was on you before you could blink, one hand at your throat—not choking, not hurting—just possessing.

“Then you’re a fool,” he growled.

You didn’t cry.

He respected that.

It changed after that.

He touched you more.

His hand lingered when he passed you tea. His fingers curled around your ankle when he sat near you at night.

“I should’ve never let them use you,” he said one evening, almost to himself. “Should’ve killed them all when they put you in that room.”

You didn’t ask which room.

You didn’t want to remember.

“I remember what they did to you,” he whispered. “I remember watching. Being ordered not to move. I wanted to burn the whole building down.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because they controlled me too.”

His voice cracked, just barely.

And then he kissed you.

You didn’t push him away.

You didn’t pull him closer, either.

That seemed to be enough.

You tried to escape again a week later.

You made it as far as the tree line before the dart hit your neck.

When you woke, you were in a different room. Not the cabin. Not the woods.

Concrete walls.

Chains.

He was there.

He didn’t speak for a long time.

Just sat in the chair, watching you breathe through the sedative.

“I told you,” Bucky finally said. “Run again, and you don’t get the bed.”

You were groggy, your tongue thick in your mouth. “What is this?”

“This is where I fix you.”

You laughed—dry and bitter. “You sound like them.”

“No,” he said firmly, leaning forward. “They wanted to break you. I want to rebuild you.”

He stood, metal hand trailing across the chain that held your ankle. “This is the last time I’m giving you a choice, baby.”

“Choice?” you spit. “There’s no choice.”

He nodded.

“Exactly.”

The conditioning was slow.

Not pain. Not torture.

Pleasure.

Warmth. Kindness. Repetition.

He brought you your favorite foods. Let you curl into his chest at night.

He never forced you. Not physically.

But he waited.

Waited until you asked him for something. Anything.

“Can I have a book?”

“You’ll read to me first.”

“Can I shower alone?”

“You’ll kiss me when you’re done.”

It was always give and take.

Always more than it seemed.

He didn’t yell.

He didn’t hurt.

He retrained you.

Soft words. Soft hands.

Soft lies.

It didn’t feel like captivity anymore.

That was the worst part.

Your body stopped flinching when he entered the room. You found yourself watching him make breakfast, wondering what name he used before he was a weapon. You started missing him when he left.

And when you touched yourself at night… it was his name on your lips.

Not yours.

The first time he took you, it was snowing again.

You had been curled up near the fireplace, your body in a haze of trust and confusion, your mind weaker than you realized.

Bucky came in from the cold, eyes wild, cheeks flushed.

He didn’t speak.

He just looked at you.

“You’ve been good,” he said softly.

You didn’t answer.

He pulled you to your feet.

And kissed you like he owned you.

The worst part?

You kissed him back.

You opened for him.

You let him.

He didn’t have to fight.

He knew he’d already won.

You screamed when you came.

He didn’t gag you.

Didn’t stop.

Just held your wrists and whispered in your ear.

“You’re mine now, кукла. Mine forever. That’s non-negotiable.”

You should’ve hated him.

You should’ve fought harder.

But you didn’t.

Because somewhere between the second escape attempt and the firelight kisses, your survival instincts had blurred.

And he’d made you forget how to want anything else.

You wake now with him beside you.

The chains are gone.

There are no locks.

But you don’t leave.

You could. You’ve thought about it.

But your body doesn’t move.

Because when he wraps his arms around you, when his voice murmurs in your ear about how proud he is, how safe you are now… it feels real.

He never gave you a cage.

He gave you a choice.

And made you believe you chose him.

But it was never your choice.

Not really.

Because once the Winter Soldier sets his sights on something…

He knew what he was here for. Or rather, who. 

And he spotted you right away. He’d been preparing for this meeting for the last decade, and he had all his ducks in a row now. He grabbed a beer and walked right over to where you were sitting, in a booth by yourself. A half pint of something on the table, with papers scattered everywhere while you were busy noting something down rapidly in a notebook. 

You looked good, he admitted to himself. Dark burgundy dress with a leather jacket, as if you wanted to blend into the dark and moody aesthetic of the bar and disappear. But you were one of those people who just couldn’t exactly blend in and disappear. Even when you didn’t say a word, your presence was rather loud. Sure, you’d been one of the most horrible people he’d come across in uni years ago, but you were charismatic and he couldn’t deny it. 

You had this certain pull to you, attracting everyone and everything towards you. And here he was, gravitating towards you as well. But, he reminded himself, he had a plan this time. 

“Excuse me,” He spoke in his smoothest voice, “Is this seat taken?” 

He watched you intently as you looked up from your notebook and seemed a little surprised as you gave him a slight smile and pointed at the seat across from you. You didn’t recognise him. Of course you wouldn’t, he looked entirely different. 

Bucky was used to it. That surprise on women’s faces. He looked good and he knew it. Tight black t-shirt, purposely two sizes too small just so he could show off the big arms and the back muscles that the people loved. Tattoos all over his arms, and some on his neck. He had them all over his back as well, but it was currently hidden. Small, discrete lip ring on his lower lip. Yeah, he made the ladies go crazy. 

He could tell you were having trouble looking away as well. “Aren’t you too beautiful to be here all by yourself?” He gave you a smirk, one that he knew accentuated his lip ring. He watched your gaze drop down to it quickly before looking back up into his eyes. 

You smiled, then explained. “I don’t know anyone in this city, I’m here temporarily for work. I leave in a couple of days.” 

Bucky listened with fake interest, he knew all these things already. He knew everything about you. “Oh?” He faked curiosity, “What do you do for work?” 

“I’m an author. I’m currently on my book tour.” You answered in a shy voice. 

Weird. You used to be so confident and cocky all the time in uni. This was new. Bucky quickly recovered and said, “Wait, was that you I saw on the poster outside the bookstore down the street? There was quite a crowd there.” 

You nodded sheepishly, “Yeah, that’s me. I have another book signing there tomorrow.” 

He nodded, taking a sip of his beer. “You must be really good.” 

Again, you gave him that shy shrug that confused him. Since when were you humble, or shy? 

“I’m okay, I guess. People just like to read what I write.” A pause, as you stared into his eyes, then asked, “What do you do in the city? You know, other than flirting with random women.” 

Bucky chuckled, “Oh you’re not random. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve met.” He waited to see you squirm in your seat like he knew you would. He watched how you rolled your eyes at him and shook your head. Then he said, “I own a security company. I created this app that people use whenever they need help. All they have to do is press a button and my guys show up. Anywhere, anytime. Anything from needing medical help to needing help escaping someone, domestic violence, robbers, a hostage situation, harassment, or you know,” He looked right at you as he said, “Bullies.” 

You listened, nodded and said, “That’s noble. What pushed you to make that your life’s mission?” 

Bucky leaned back into his seat. “I know what it’s like to feel defenseless. I never want anyone to feel like that. So if I can at least help some people, it makes me feel better. I guess I became what younger me needed.” 

“Why?” You questioned. “Were you hurt in the past?” 

“Yeah,” He shrugged. “But that was a long time ago.” 

Bucky began talking about something else but then noticed you were watching him a little too intensely. For a brief moment he panicked, wondering if you’d recognised him. But surely not. He didn’t look anything like he did back then. 

So he had to ask, still in the same flirty tone he’d been using the whole time, “What’s that look for?” 

He watched as you blinked a couple times, lowered your face as if shy then shook your head and said, “Nothing. It’s…,” You chuckled, “It’s gonna sound insane but you just… look so much like one of my main characters from my last book.” You then grabbed your phone and clicked a couple times before showing him a fanart. “See? Even the lip ring, and the neck tats.” 

Bucky grabbed your phone, analysing the fanart with interest. “And this guy, you like him? Is he a good guy?” 

You sighed, “He’s complicated. But yes, I love him. He’s one of my favourite characters that I’ve ever written.” A coy smile, then you said, “I just never thought I’d meet someone exactly like him. I mean, it’s like you walked out of my book.” You laughed. 

Bucky laughed too. “Well, maybe I did.” 

“Maybe.” You whispered, still looking up at Bucky dreamily. Giving him that soft look women often gave him before they invited him into their beds. 

Perfect. 

Oh. He had you right where he wanted you. It’s like you walked out of my book. He scoffed internally. For the last few years he’d been studying all your books like they were religious texts and he was a zealous man. Over the years he noticed that all your MMCs had a few features in common – tattoos, muscles, piercings, so he became them. 

Sure, maybe this was him taking it too far. After all, uni ended about a decade ago. Sure, this was petty and maybe even a waste of time. But he needed to do this for the younger him who was always so passive and never in control of the narrative. Being bullied and never having friends or anyone on his side is what made him create his app and company. Sure, this was childish revenge but it was his to take. He didn’t care. 

Besides, the look on your face would be priceless once he reveals who he is. But not yet. He had so much to do before that. So many fantasies to fulfil. So much fun to have before he told you the whole truth. 

“It’s getting late,” You told him as you began gathering your papers and notebook, “I should head back to my hotel. I have that book signing thing rather early. But, um, if you want I could leave you my number and we can meet again tomorrow?” 

Bucky smiled at you, his tongue toying with his lip ring knowing full well it would catch your attention. “Yes, please.” 

He already had your number. Screw your number, he had all your home addresses – both the penthouse, as well as the small beach house that you owned, your email addresses, your passwords, where you liked to eat, where your friends lived, where they worked, what your parents did, where they worked, all of it. He’d been keeping a close eye on you for the past decade, of course he knew everything there was to know about you. 

So he took the number, and walked you out of the bar and promised to meet up with you the next day. 

—

“Have dinner with me,” Bucky said when he saw you the following evening. “I know a cute spot, it’s lowkey and quiet. You’re gonna like it.” 

You smiled at him and nodded, “Alright.” Then you took his elbow and let him take the lead. 

He walked slowly, using the short journey as an excuse to ask you things. General stuff, things people ask on first dates. Where you grew up, what is your family like, etc. But it was hard coming up with questions when he already knew everything. Plus, he had to be careful not to ask specific things, like how did you find Bari, Italy where you vacationed with your family last year? 

Luckily the place where you were headed wasn’t too far. 

“So tell me, what is it like going from city to city and meeting all your fans?” Bucky asked you once the two of you had placed your orders. 

You smiled, as if at a memory, and said, “It’s amazing. I can’t quite put it into words. I mean, I started writing as a way to cope with just, I don’t know, life I guess. And I never thought people would end up reading, let alone even like what I write. And it kinda just happened, and next thing I knew I was receiving messages and emails and letters from all over the world. I guess, you never get tired of someone telling you just how much they like the stories you made up in your head.” You sighed again, happily this time. “It’s cliché, I know, but it’s so pure and genuine. Like these characters don’t exist in real life, I made them up. But people found them interesting enough to read about them, and like them.” You giggled. 

Bucky felt like someone had slapped him the moment he heard that giggle. What the hell was happening to him? Did he, dare he say, find you endearing? What the fuck. 

You continued, unbeknownst to the internal turmoil Bucky was going through. “So yeah, the fans are literally the reason why I do what I do. They give me so much strength and they don’t even know it. Sometimes just reading or re-reading a sweet message someone left me months ago can turn a bad day into a really good one, or make a terrible day slightly more tolerable.” You paused, gazing into Bucky’s eyes. “Writing saved me, but my fans, my readers, they made my life so much more beautiful and worth living.” 

Well, he wasn’t expecting that. At all. He knew you didn’t have ghost writers or anything. He knew you’d been consistent with your book releases. But he never knew you had such… depth. He always only ever saw you as the bitchy girl who bullied him in uni and made his life hell. For the first time in years, Bucky wavered a little bit when it came to you. For the first time in years, he wondered whether this was worth it. 

“I see,” He spoke quietly, “So no downsides to being a well-loved author?” 

You chuckled, “Some. Like most things. I mean, this doesn’t happen a lot but a couple of times I’ve had people show up to my hotel room or my house even, demanding to know what happens in the next book. It’s scary, but, I mean I’ve dealt with it and I hope it doesn’t happen again.” 

Perfect. Bucky smiled, then said, “You know, you should hire security. At least when you’re touring. I can arrange it, I’ll send you some of my best guys. They’ll be discrete, and you won’t have to worry about anything.” 

He was pleased with how easily you agreed. Now he could have eyes on you all the time without all the secrecy. 

And the rest of the dinner went by smoothly. 

He thought he’d have to put in a lot more work. But when he dropped you off at your hotel lobby, and you asked him if he wanted to come up for a drink, he was pleasantly surprised. But of course he agreed and followed you to your room. 

You offered him a glass of red wine, he accepted. 

You made small talk, your eyes never leaving his. Bucky put on a show. Touching your hands, your face, but just enough to leave you wanting more. He watched how you lowered your head each time he gave you a compliment. But none of the compliments were lies, even despite all the hatred he felt towards you he had to admit, you were very beautiful. 

He also noted the way you kept scooting closer and closer to him on the couch. Out of nowhere, Bucky said, “You know, I googled you last night. And I came across some rather… naughty stuff that you’ve written.” 

You laughed and said, “In my world, we call those spicy scenes.” 

Bucky nodded, “I see. And are any of those based on real life?” 

There was that shy look on your face again. “Some are.” 

There was this unexplainable wave of discontent that washed over him upon hearing that. He didn’t know why but the thought of you having sex with someone else and it being good enough for you to write about it almost made him want to get up and leave. He hated it. 

“So if I fuck you, will you write about it?” He asked, so serious all of a sudden. 

You didn’t look away from his eyes as you replied, “Only if you’re memorable enough.” 

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his mouth. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

He shook his head and reached for you, “Come here then,” He guided you over his lap so you could straddle him. He leaned in and whispered, “I’ll show you memorable enough.” 

You placed your hands on his shoulders, feeling all the hard muscles underneath his thin t-shirt while his hands slid up and down your sides as his lips kissed all over your neck. He hummed and breathed and chuckled right into your ear as he explored your body. Then, getting impatient he asked, “Can I please take your dress off?” 

Within the next few seconds, you were completely bare in his lap. 

“So beautiful,” He murmured, looking at you with those gorgeous eyes that he knew could make people melt so easily. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He whispered along your collar bones, kissing and licking your skin. You inched closer to him, rubbing your crotch against his clothed but erected cock, making the both of you gasp and moan. “Yeah? Is that what you want?” He teased, tightening his grip on your waist just a little and pulling you closer to him, nuzzling your neck again. 

You slid your fingers into his hair and whispered into his ear, “Yes, please.” 

He hid the fact that your voice made him shiver. He shook it off as quickly as he could. Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan. 

Bucky recovered, and smirked against your skin the moment he heard you gasping and whining under his touch. “What do you want, huh?” He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly, grounding you on his clothed cock in the process, “My fingers?” He reached up to grab the back of your neck, tilting your head back so he could kiss and whisper against your skin, “My mouth? Or my cock?” 

You whined, then said, “Your cock, please.” You begged him. And fuck, it was satisfying to hear. Just what he wanted. 

He chuckled, letting his hand rest at your butt, bringing your body closer to his. How long had he waited to have you at his mercy like this? He was gonna have all the fun he’d dreamt of having. “Well then you have to work for it.” He said, teasing you. “Now come on, take it out and slide it in you.” 

Bucky leaned back and watched each one of your moves. The desperation in your eyes as you stared up at him, how your eager hands rapidly undid his pants to free his throbbing cock. How you handled him like he was nothing but just a hot fling. 

Oh baby, Bucky scoffed mentally, you have no idea who I am, do you? 

He caught the way you whimpered under your breath at the sight of him, like the rest of him, his cock was nice and thick too. 

He watched as you wrapped your hand around him, slowly stroking his veiny cock, making him throw his head back and groan under his breath. “I said put it inside you, baby.” He bit his lower lip to keep from moaning too much. 

Bucky watched you as you lifted your body off of his lap and aligned the tip of his cock to your hole and then slowly, slowly sank down on him. You both moaned, watching his cock disappear inside of you. 

“Fuck…” You moaned, looking at him with that damned innocent look in your eyes. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. “Come here,” He growled once he was nice and deep inside your warm, wet hole. Grabbing you by the throat, Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you hungrily. Growling into your mouth about how good it felt to be inside you, “You did such a good job. Look how pretty you look, filled with my cock, huh? Do you realise how pretty you look, baby?” 

You whined against his mouth, begging, immediately grinding your hips against his, desperate for some friction. For any kind of movement. Just needy. 

“Please…” 

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you now.” He whispered against your mouth, your warm breaths mingling. “I’ve got you. I’ll make it feel good, okay?” His hands grabbed you by the hips as he carefully helped you lift your lower body up and then slowly, lowering you down his cock again. “That feels good, doesn’t it?” 

You nodded, looking down to see where your bodies connected and the sight of it, of his cock stretching you out was just sinful. 

“You feel perfect, you know that?” Bucky grabbed and held your hips in place, gently thrusting his hips up, making you moan as he filled you up, “Just a perfect girl for me, aren’t you? Who would’ve thought, huh?” 

It was a good thing you were too lust-drunk to fully process his ramblings. 

Bucky leaned in to kiss your open mouth again, moving your body gently, rocking you back and forth on his cock to get you to get used to the girth of him. His cock throbbed against your walls, causing the tiniest bit of friction which drove you insane and turned you into a teary, mumbling mess. “Aww baby, what is it? Is it too much? Hmm?” He teased, placing his thumb against your clit and rubbing it slowly while still moving your hips back and forth. “Is that too much?” 

You looked into his eyes with your teary ones and said, “You… feel so good.” You whined. 

Bucky smirked. Right where he wanted you. He let go of your hips, no longer helping you to move. “Go on then, take what you want. And make it good for me.” 

Sheepishly, you lifted your lower body slightly, before sliding back down on his cock. Now that he wasn’t helping you, it was way harder than earlier. You struggled to make him fit for a moment. But only for a moment. 

You whimpered and he groaned once he fit snug inside of you again. The tip of his cock reaching sensitive places you never knew existed. 

“That’s good, baby.” Bucky murmured, caressing your thigh. “But open your eyes. I want you to look at me while you take my cock so perfectly like my good girl. You hear me?” 

You looked right at him, nodding as you began riding his cock as best as you could before you finally found the right pace and rhythm. You moved faster then, impaling yourself down on his cock each time, whimpering shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. 

“That’s it. Take it, take all of me in that tight, perfect little cunt…” He leaned in to kiss you, biting down and tugging at your bottom lip while you sped up, his cock stretched you out each time he filled you up.

His hand circled around your waist, his muscular arms caging you in and he pulled your warm body closer to his. You were nothing but a moaning mess at this point. 

You bounced on his cock moaning and whining, feeling him stretch you out. Bucky now held you at your waist and rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. Brows furrowing and panting while you rode his cock, throwing his head back and growling in pleasure. 

“You feel so fucking good…” He tried to contain his grunts, “Oh fuck, you’ll get me addicted to this cunt, huh? And I’ll want it every day now. But you’ll give it to me, won’t you? You’ll let me fuck it, or taste it, or both, won’t you, angel?” 

“Yes,” You whined, nodding helplessly. “Whatever you want.” 

He chuckled, kissing down your neck and whispering against your skin about how perfect you felt around him. He panted against your skin, kissing you all over, “This cunt is mine now, you hear me? All fucking mine. All of it.” 

“Yes…”

You didn’t slow down when you felt your orgasm wash over you, and Bucky kept thrusting his hips up into you even as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came.

“Oh fuck!” You cried out, your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone, all that pressure exploding in a satisfying way. 

Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to his. 

— 

“I wish I could stay in the city a little longer.” You mumbled against his chest. 

Bucky smirked, his fingers mindlessly tracing random shapes on your skin. “Where are you going after this?” 

You told him which city you were off to the next day for more book signings and readings. And Bucky pretended to be surprised, as if he didn’t know already, “I’m headed there too. One of our offices there needs me for something.” Lies. “I’ll leave in a day or two.” 

You sat up at the sound of that, looking down at Bucky with a mischievous look in your eyes. Bucky smirked because he could already see your thought process. 

“Could we, um, see each other again?” You asked, still a little shy. 

Bucky reached out to touch your face, playing the part of the enamoured stranger too well. “Of course we can, angel. I’ll come find you, don’t you worry.” 

— 

It was almost too easy to find you again. His guards who were watching over you let him know of all your moves, where you were, which hotel you stayed at, where your event was held, what time, etc. 

So finding you at your book signing event, and surprising you by sneaking around and pulling you into a nearby utility closet was not a problem at all. 

You gasped, in surprise, then let out a chuckle once you realized it was just him. “Bucky!” 

Bucky pulled you close and gave you a gentle kiss. “I’ve missed you, angel.” 

You relaxed in his arms, “But I saw you just two nights ago.” 

“I know,” He leaned in to kiss your neck. “Still missed you,” He whispered. 

You let out a soft moan when he licked and bit your skin. “Bucky…” You groaned, then giggled when his rough stubble tickled your neck. And that cold metal of his lip ring making you shiver.  “I have to be out and take pictures in a while.” 

He pulled away immediately. “Sorry, I thought–,” 

“No,” You cut him off, again with that shy but mischievous look in your eyes. Then you leaned in and whispered against his mouth, “I didn’t say we had to stop.” You pressed a soft kiss to the side of his mouth, right on his lip ring. 

Then you kissed his neck, then slowly got down on your knees. Your hands trailing down his body until you reached his belt buckle. 

Okay. This was not in the plan. Bucky thought in his head. 

“Can I?” You asked, looking up at him with those eyes of yours. 

Fuck. Fuck! How long had he waited for this? Years. Even in uni, even when he hated you, he was just a young man and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees for him. Fuck. Focus, Bucky, focus! 

“Go ahead, baby.” He whispered. “It’s all yours to play with.” 

Those words made you hurry. You rapidly undid his belt, unzipped his pants and freed his hard cock. The mere sight of it had you whimpering with need. You wrapped your hands around him and placed your mouth on his tip, your tongue slowly circling his tip before you slowly took more of him, as much as you could fit, into your mouth. 

You looked up and found him looking down at you intensely, blinking slowly, eyes heavy with lust, and breathing heavily. Fuck, he was a sight, you thought. The lip ring on that swollen, soft, pink lower lip. Those tattoos peeking from under the collar of his shirt, the tattoos along his muscular forearms… 

You kept your eyes on his gorgeous face as you sucked on his cock. He had the kind of manly beauty that made you want to worship him with your mouth. Usually, you’d never get down on your knees this quickly for any man. But Bucky… he was special, wasn’t he? 

Bucky closed his eyes momentarily, lips parted and gasping as he tilted his head back. “Fuck…” he moaned and you only quickened your pace. He moved his hips forward, gently fucking your mouth. He looked back down and smirked, you looked magnificent on your knees, taking him perfectly.

“Is this what you’ve been dreaming of doing for the past two days, huh?” He teased. “While you’re out there innocently reading your books, and signing autographs for your fans, and smiling for pictures, is this what was in the back of your mind, angel?” 

You nodded, your mouth still full of him. 

Bucky chuckled, “Yeah, not so innocent, are you?” He carefully quickened the pace at which he moved in and out of you, eager to chase his orgasm. “You’re lucky you have to go back out there and look presentable, otherwise I’d make a mess all over your face, baby.” He said, then hissed when you took him out of your mouth, licking his cock from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. “Oh, you little tease.” He smirked. “No more teasing, baby, come on. Put it back in your mouth.” He ordered. 

And you listened. You took him back into your mouth and sucked on his cock until he came undone all over your tongue. Bucky came with a loud sigh, closing his eyes and relishing the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him. You swallowed all of him, licked him clean and zipped his pants back up and did his belt again before standing up to face him again. 

He smiled at you. “I’m gonna return the favour later, okay?” 

You nodded while he wiped the corners of your mouth with his thumbs, and fixed your hair as best as he could. Bucky loved the dreamy look in your eyes. 

You slid him your hotel room key and said, “See you later, Bucky.” Then you left the closet with a wink. 

Bucky stayed there for a minute. Alone and thinking. This was easier than he thought. He kinda hoped you’d play hard to get a little more, but this was great too. 

—

Bucky did show up to your hotel room that night. He had a favour to return after all. But then, after that night, things went a little off his initial plan. 

Bucky ended up following you around the world for the next month or so, going from city to city. Fucking in hotel rooms, or anywhere he could get you alone. He ended up infiltrating each one of your events, sometimes he’d show up just so he could then take you out for dinner after a long day, then he’d end up sleeping in your bed each night. 

He knew he was deviating from his plan. But what could he do? He was having fun, and so were you. Neither one of you was putting a label on this thing anyway. Plus, he had waited for this for so long. So he let it happen for some more weeks, shamelessly enjoying anytime he got to have you under him, or be under you, or touching you, or kissing you. All for the sake of younger him, of course. 

Bucky let it go like this until you were nearing the last leg of your tour. And you had about a week off before the last few remaining events. 

It was time, he realised. To mess with you a little more. 

So he made you an offer he knew you wouldn’t refuse. 

The two of you were in your penthouse, back in your city. And Bucky had travelled with you. The two of you could barely keep your hands off each other. So here you were now, early morning, cuddling in bed. 

“How would you like a weekend getaway, baby? At a nice cabin, small town, endless woods,” He proposed, pulling you closer under the covers since you were both refusing to get out of bed that morning. “Just you, and me, and a hot tub.” He whispered, kissing your face while you writhed in his arms, giggling and trying to get away because you were really ticklish. “And lots of sex.” 

You laughed, finally out of his embrace, and got up to straddle him, pinning his arms in place as you looked down at him. Both of you completely naked, but who cared? “I wake up sore everyday because of you.” 

Bucky smirked, freeing his hands from your grip easily. “Weird, ‘cause you never complain when we’re doing it.” He spoke, his hands mindlessly caressing your bare thighs. “In fact, you always ask for more.” 

“Right.” You smacked his chest playfully. “And now you want to lock me inside a cabin with you? We won’t ever leave the bed. I still have work to do, you know? I should’ve started working on my next book weeks ago.” You said, “But a certain tattooed, blue-eyed hottie is ruining my plans.” 

He laughed at the irony of what you said. “Oh come on, angel,” He pleaded. “I just want one weekend alone with you. Just one. Where we don’t have to meet or interact with other people. It’ll be just us.” 

You smiled and nodded, “Fine. I should start packing.” 

— 

The cabin was everything. Much larger than you expected. Bucky told you that this was one of his favourite properties that he owned, at the foot of a mountain, surrounded by dense, foggy woods, the rich veridian pine trees, the dark mountains, and rain clouds. 

It was the perfect setting to get some writing done as well, you thought. 

“Oh! This is perfect, Buck!” You said the moment you stepped inside the log home. The setting sun really added to the charm of the place. You spun in slow circles, taking it all in. The high ceiling, the grand staircase, the nice kitchen, the neat living area with the comfiest chairs by the large windows, and the giant fireplace. 

You immediately walked over to the biggest chair with the softest cushions and plopped down on it with a happy sigh. “I never wanna leave.” You squealed, giggling as you squirmed and buried deeper into the cushions. “Can I just stay here forever? Look at this place, Buck!” 

Bucky was frozen in place. Watching you. Unable to take his eyes off you. The happy smiles, the way you made sure to point out all the things you liked and compliment them. The way you immediately made yourself at home. The way you chose the most comfortable spot and decided that was your spot, like a house cat by a sunny window. 

What the hell was he feeling?! And why did he feel kinda bad for having led you on this whole time? Was he doing the wrong thing? Messing with you was the plan, but then what? What after that? Was he being ridiculous? Did he just waste years of his life planning and plotting when he could’ve just let it all go and move on? Uni was years ago. Was this all a childish utter waste of time and energy? 

Fuck. He cursed himself. What was he doing? It was obvious that you weren’t the same person you were back then. People had the right to change and they did all the time. 

“Bucky?” Your voice dragged him back to reality. “Are you okay?” You got up from your chair and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him as you said, “Thank you for bringing me here, I love it.” You buried your face into his chest and sighed, “You seem tired. Can we get into the hot tub now? I think we both need to relax for a minute.” 

He looked down at you and nodded, smiling as he touched your face gently. “Of course, angel.” 

— 

Bucky knew he seemed distant while he was in the hot tub with you, not even the breathtaking view of the woods and the lights from the small town could cheer him up. His mind was far away, even while you were in his lap. 

“Hey,” You whispered, leaning in to kiss his rough cheek. “What’s going on with you?” You asked quietly. 

“Nothing.” He forced a soft smile and said, “Just work stuff.” 

You looked a little disappointed. “I thought you wanted this time away from everyone.” 

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him, your bare chest pressing against his. “I know, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll stop worrying about the rest of the world.” He nuzzled your neck and kissed you until you giggled, until that disappointed look on your face disappeared. “It’s just you and me.” 

Then what started out as innocent kisses, turned into steamy making out, then turned into the two of you fucking until you were completely spent. 

— 

The next two days went by quickly. Bucky lost track of time since he was so lost in you. It was so easy to pretend. To pretend that this was real and that he wasn’t just here with you because of some grunge he’d been nurturing since he was in his early twenties. 

But then came your last night here at his log home. And Bucky could barely sleep. He kept tossing and turning, while you were sleeping soundly next to him. He was feeling a lot. Anger, regret, guilt. 

He couldn’t stay in bed any longer. So he got up and walked downstairs, straight to that secret door behind which was his ‘study room’. This room contained everything he knew and had gathered about you since his uni days. Photographs, addresses, phone numbers, everything. And there, occupying the entirety of one of the walls was the bulletin board he used to keep track of everything. Where you went, who you met, details about people from your inner circle, literally everything. 

Bucky stood in front of the giant bulletin board that had a picture of you right in the middle, surrounded by pictures of you no one else had, pictures you didn’t even know were taken of you. In hotel lobbies, at airports, inside your homes, and more. Bucky’s eyes followed that red thread he used to mark each step of his ‘plan’, and the rope ended here – at the log house. The was plan was simple, all he had to do was– 

“What the hell is this?” A shaky voice asked from behind him. 

Bucky froze for a second, then kept his calm. Fuck it. He wasn’t gonna be able to pretend for much longer anyway. “I thought you were sleeping.” 

He turned around and faced you. You stood at the door which he carelessly forgot to lock behind him. There, in your pink PJs, looking at him with accusation and fear in your eyes. He hated that look. Suddenly Bucky was even angrier, at himself, at the situation he thought he had under control, at everything. 

He knew how this looked. He was standing a few feet away from you with a poker face, and that damn wall behind him was like a silent but deadly monster ready to pounce. He noticed the way you were shaking already. 

“Who are you?” You asked him, hands trembling even as you tried to keep your calm. Acting rash wouldn’t help you. 

So smart. So brave. 

“Forgot me so soon, angel?” Bucky scoffed, “You don’t remember me? It’s only been, what, like ten years since uni? James? The kid with glasses you liked to bully? You’d slash my tires for fun,” He began listing, “You’d make up rumours about me, you’d chased away all the friends I made, you’d cast me out and make sure I was alone all the time, you really did act like it was your world and we were all just living in it back then, remember? You and your minions?” Bucky shook his head, “I know you remember.” 

A shaky exhale, then you whispered under your breath, as if to yourself, starting to back away as the realisation set in. “No… why would you–,” 

Bucky reached for and grabbed your wrist before you could get away from him. He slammed the door shut behind you and pushed you against it. Once locked, the door only opened with the code was entered. And you didn’t know the code, so you were well trapped with him in this room. 

“Why would I?” He asked, dramatically. Placing his hands on the door behind you, trapping you between the hard, cold wood and his body, his tattooed, bare chest pressing against you. Bucky said, “Because you made my life hell that’s why. I’m not that kid anymore.” He whispered, his tone icy and mean. “I’m all grown up now, and I deserve to have some fun, don’t I?” He watched as tears fell down your face. “Aww, are you crying, baby? Hmm?” He leaned closer to you and whispered against the side of your trembling mouth, knowing his beard felt rough against your skin, “You ruined my plans with your pretty face, with that sweet look in your eyes, and your addicting fucking pussy, and now you’re crying?” He taunted, enjoying the way you gasped in surprise at his crude words. 

He also noted how you didn’t even try to push him away. It’s like you rolled over and admitted defeat. You weren’t even trying to fight back. But you did look terrified. 

Bucky pulled away to look into your eyes. “I intended to mess with you for a little bit, and make you pay for how you treated me all those years ago.” He explained. “But having you mess with my head in return wasn’t in the plans, you know?” 

“Please,” You whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please let me go. I’ll do anything, Bucky. I’m sorry.” More tears rolled down your cheeks. “Please.” You begged again. 

Bucky, despite the guilt he’d felt just moments ago, scoffed in your face with a smirk on his own. “That’s not what you were begging for just an hour ago, was it?” Bucky pouted and then with his best whiny voice mocked you, “‘oh please baby, that’s it, fuck you feel so good. More, more, please, oh fuck please–,” 

You cut him off with a slap across the face. Bucky chuckled like an asshole, not feeling the pain at all, even though it sent his face sideways because he wasn’t expecting it. And somehow getting a reaction out of you tasted so sweet. He wanted more. 

“Do you remember now? Remember how you made my life miserable?” He asked. 

Sniffling, you asked him back, “What do you want? I said I was sorry.” 

“Oh no. You don’t get to just apologise. For four years of my life, I’d wake up every single day and hate it.” He said. “Because of you and your cool group of friends.” His tone was so bitter it was unrecognizable. “Did it make you feel good? Making fun of me? Did it make you feel all big and powerful, picking on me?” 

You shook your head, sniffling. Looking like you regretted it now. Part of him wanted to end this weird interrogation, but he also needed to know, didn’t he? 

So he asked. “Then why did you do it?” 

Silence. 

One of his hands left the door and wrapped itself around your throat. Bucky felt how you tensed under his touch as he pressed himself against you even more, making sure you couldn’t slip away. 

“Buck–,” You squealed, but the way he tightened his grip just a little made you stop. 

Bucky continued with his taunts. “Writing all those things on my door. Spreading rumours about me. Ruining any chance I had at real friendships with people. You think that was funny?” 

You finally found your voice, though quiet and pleading. “Those were stupid, childish pranks, Bucky please, and I am so s–” 

He cut you off again, raising his voice a little. “Childish pranks to you! For me those childish pranks of yours made my life hell for four years.” He scoffed. “You were the popular girl everyone wanted. Your parents were rich. You had everything most of us didn’t have. So why did you do it?” He questioned. “Why did you pick on me? Why not the others? What did I ever do to you to deserve that treatment?” His voice went down so low it made you tremble. 

He loved it. The power he held in that moment. For a moment, he wished the younger him had felt half the way he felt right now. He decided to mess with you just a little more. Scaring you with his words, because he knew he could never hurt you. Not like this. “We’re all alone up this mountain, you know?” He said, in a calm voice that only made your tears flow even more. “No neighbours,” He reminded you. “No one to hear you scream, no one to help you.” He surprised himself with how cold he sounded, like he was someone else. 

“Please.” You begged, unable to say anything else. 

“I used to dream about this, you know?” He confessed. “About having you at my mercy. About having you plead and beg me.” He chuckled, staring right into your eyes. “It’s fucked up, you see? I could never understand it.” 

He tilted his head to the side, sliding his thigh in between your legs, loving the way you gasped and instinctively, mindlessly spread your legs ever so gently to let him in, it was barely noticeable. 

“As much as I hated you before, as much as you were a total bitch to me, I never stopped wondering what it would be like to be inside you.” He scoffed, as if at a memory. “I used to fantasize about it back in uni too. I always wondered what it would be like to have you open and soft and wet for me.” He pressed his leg up against your core. “To hear you purr and moan, and fuck me,” He laughed, “You’re better than what I imagined.” 

You were trapped in place, unable to move, unable to look away. Bucky could tell you were scared, but there was something else in your eyes that he couldn’t quite name. A strange calmness of sorts. 

Bucky continued his monologue, rubbing his thigh so gently in between your legs. He doubted you even noticed because all you did was stare at him with teary eyes, that strange look in them, and your soft mouth slightly open. “So what is it about you, huh?” He squeezed his hand around your throat for just a second before letting go, he could feel your pulse quicken. “What is it about this god damn pussy that made me ruin my own plans.” He scoffed in disappointment. “I never intended to keep you around for so long. I wanted to bring you up here as quickly as possible, mess with you a little bit, scare you and send you running. And in the meantime make you regret how you treated me all those years ago.” 

Bucky pulled his thigh away from yours, and smirked when you gasped at the loss of contact. Ah, so you were enjoying it. He was sure he looked just as smug as he felt. 

“But,” Bucky continued, “All I’ve done since I met you is be buried deep into that pussy. And anytime I’m not in there I think about it. About you. About your taste. The sounds you make when I’m fucking you. The way you say my name. The way you look under me. The way your arms and legs wrap around me so perfectly…” He trailed off, noticing the way you squeezed your eyes shut, as if not facing him would erase all those weeks you spent tangled with one another. 

“Look at me,” He murmured, still in that mean and cold voice. The one he could barely recognise. He didn’t sound like someone who hated you. He sounded like someone who was obsessed. “A few weeks in your company and I’m willing to do just about anything to keep you looking at me with that dreamy look in your eyes.” He said, sincerely. “I wanna give you everything. Wanna take you anywhere you wanna go. Show you everything. Make all your wishes come true.” 

He noticed your eyes were still shut. So he got bolder, he reached for your hair and grabbed a fistful securely in his grip, tilting your head back so you had no choice but to open your eyes in fear, panic, and… that strange look he couldn’t quite decipher. “Look at me!” He hissed. “Look at what you’ve done to me! Haven’t you fucked with my head enough?!”

You spoke up this time. Pleading again, “Bucky, I’m so sorry. I mean it. I wasn’t– I wasn’t thinking back then.” You sniffled. “I was so stupid, everything I did was so stupid, Bucky please. I really am sorry.” 

“Yeah?” He sounded bored. Then like a switch, he went back to being icy again. “You wanna make up for it?” 

A blink. Silence. Then you said, “Don’t hurt me.” 

Bucky chuckled. “Oh baby,” He cooed, “Is that what you think I’m gonna do? Hurt you? If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it that same night at the bar.” He shook his head, his hand leaving your hair, coming down to trace the shape of your mouth. “Hurting you was never in the plans.” 

You shivered. 

“Making you beg for it was.” He stated. “And you will.” He sounded so confident. “You will beg me for it, won’t you? Hmm? You’ll beg me to fuck you. And then you’re gonna say you’re sorry. And you’ll really mean it this time. You want that, don’t you, baby?” He smirked. “Of course you do. Otherwise why would you be rubbing yourself all over me like that?” 

You froze, probably just now realising what you’d been doing this whole time. Bucky couldn’t help the smug smirk. Oh fuck, this is everything he’s ever dreamt of. So he reached for you, his hands sliding right up in between your legs. 

He watched how you frowned for a moment as he rubbed his fingers against your clothed, but embarrassingly wet folds. Your thin, little satin shorts were barely a barrier. 

“Oh?” He teased, “Treating you like a little slut doesn’t turn you off, does it?” He pulled you closer by your throat and you shivered again, whimpering quietly. You gasped as he lazily circled your clothed clit, smearing your wetness around. “You filthy, little whore.” He chuckled, then pushed your shorts and underwear to the side to touch you properly. You let out an involuntary moan and he smirked, pressing his lips against yours but not kissing you yet. “Yeah? You like that?” 

“Please…” You pleaded, still not pushing him away. Your hands remained at your sides. Your body felt warm under his touch, and he couldn’t get enough of it. 

“Please what?” He almost growled as he slid a finger inside you and felt you immediately clench hard around him. “See? This is what I’m talking about. It was so much easier to hate you when I didn’t know what you felt like, what you tasted like,” He spoke, his lips leaving your mouth and trailing to your ear where he whispered, “Now all I wanna do is get inside you and make you happy.” He sighed, then chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all. “What the hell are you doing to me?” 

Hearing you whine and gasp as he slowly pumped his finger in and out of you was divine. 

He added another finger. “Look at you,” He taunted, “Do you feel powerful now as you did back then? Hmm?” He spoke against your cheek, his hot breath fanning your face as he pulled away just a little to look at you. “Is this where you thought you’d be one day, you little slut? At my mercy?” He chuckled, removing his hands from in between your legs as he pulled you away from the door, keeping his hand at your throat simply because he wanted to and moved you until you were sitting on the edge of his large, nearby desk. 

He stepped away for a moment, just to look at you and your slightly disheveled state. Your satin PJs sticking to your now damp with sweat skin. You were breathing heavily, your hands clutching the edge of his desk for dear life. 

“I want you to get naked and bend over the desk.” 

You remained frozen in place, even when the order left his lips. Bucky toyed with his lip ring, before pulling it into his mouth while he stared into your eyes. “Did you not hear me?” 

Finally finding your voice, you whispered again, “Bucky, I said I was sorry.” 

Bucky stepped closer until he stood right in front of you and reached out to grab your hair at the back of your neck again, fisting it securely in his grip as he tugged just a little to tilt your head back. It seemed to be the only way he got your attention. He leaned in to nuzzle your neck, kissing along your throat, lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “I don’t want your apology. I want you begging for me. Now, didn’t you hear what I said? I told you to bend over the desk for me.” He used that tone again, the icy one. The one that said you were in trouble if you didn’t do what he asked. 

So you did. 

When he released you, you held his stare with some cold defiance in your eyes as you discarded your PJs. You’d gotten naked with him multiple times over the last month or two, so this was nothing. Once done, you turned around and bent over the edge of his large desk. 

You sighed in defeat when your cheek pressed against the cold surface of the polished wood, your hands laid palm down on each side of your head. You ass pressed against the front of his sweatpants and you whimpered at the feel of his thick, hard cock beneath the fabric, rubbing against your soft folds. 

You felt his hands on your body. He placed his hands on each side of your waist and caressed your body, rubbing up and down along your sides, touching your ass but not once touching you right where you needed him to. 

You gasped, then he noticed you quickly bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loud. 

He scoffed before pinching your skin to make you gasp again, “I wanna hear every little sound you make.” He finally trailed his fingers down in between your legs and lazily traced along your slit. “So wet and ready for me.” He chuckled. 

He heard your gasping and whimpering as quietly as you could as he lazily finger-fucked you. You whined as he touched a sensitive spot inside you. Teasing you a bit more before pulling out. 

Bucky lowered his sweats to free his cock, then his hands were on you again. He grabbed you on either side of your hips before pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. But he didn’t slide his cock inside of you yet. 

He waited, he could almost feel your heart racing as he did nothing but wait for a reaction from you. He caught the way you discretely tried to push back into him but he moved away, chuckling as you whined in desperation. 

“Aww, what is it?” He asked, leaning over your exposed back. His chest pressing down onto you as he whispered into your ear. “You want this cock? Huh? You want it so bad, don’t you?” He hissed, “Then beg for it, slut.” 

He heard a weak, “Please,” but that wasn’t enough now, was it? 

“I said, beg.” 

“Please… Bucky, I– I want your cock. So bad.” You whispered. “Please, can I have it?” Like you were ashamed of wanting him. “I’ll be good from now on, I promise.” 

He wasn’t expecting that last part, but honestly, how sweet was it to hear! 

Pleased with your begging, Bucky groaned under his breath as he pushed himself slowly inside of you, feeling your walls tighten around him. You whimpered as he filled you up, stretching you as he went. 

He pulled out and thrust deep into you once again, making you moan and gasp under him. “You’ll be good, huh?” He reached out and grabbed your wrists, pinning them down at your lower back as he started rocking into you. Slowly at first, then gradually building up his pace. “Just this cock has you acting right, huh?” He laughed as he fucked deep into you, your front bumping against the edge of the desk each time. 

“Yes…,” You admitted. You whimpered as he pounded even harder into you at the sound of that confession. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he thrust into you.

“Yeah? Not such a proud, arrogant little slut now, are you?” He growled, tightening his grip on your wrists as he fucked you harder, feeling your walls getting tighter around him. “Huh? You’re not as bitchy as you were back then, look at you now. All nice and bent over my desk.” He hissed, “Don’t you dare fucking come yet!” 

You whined, “Bucky, I can’t-,” 

He cut you off quickly, “Yes you fucking can.” He snarled. “You said you were gonna be good from now on, right? Well hold it then, don’t fucking come yet.” He slammed his cock harder into you, making your eyes squeeze shut. He thrust so deep into you that even the desk moved a little, screeching as it did across the floor. 

A loud moan escaped your mouth and Bucky smirked. Looks like you were enjoying this a little too much, huh? He couldn’t have that just yet, now could he? So he pulled out and pulled you up and off the desk, turning you around so you faced him. 

Your lips parted as you gasped for air, your tear stained face was a sight to behold. And that wild hunger in your eyes because even given the situation, he fucked you good and knew how to make you want more of it, and he knew that. 

“Get on your knees.” He ordered. “Now.” 

He was surprised at how quick you were, obeying immediately, falling perfectly on your knees in front of him. You watched him with a hunger in your teary eyes. And that strange look still. You kept your eyes on his as he grabbed his glistening cock at the base and guided his tip over to your already open mouth, spreading your own wetness all over your mouth and said, “Be a good little slut, and suck.” 

You did. You opened wide as he pushed himself deeper and deeper into your mouth. You took him in slowly until he hit the back of your throat. He gripped the back of your neck, keeping you in place as he spoke, “Now, worship this fucking cock like it’s the only thing you’re good for. He smirked as you began moving immediately, “That's it. Make me fucking come, you filthy little slut.” 

You looked up at him, and for a moment, Bucky was fully captivated. Like he was in a trance. There you were, kneeling before him with his cock in your mouth like it’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted to do. Just like how he’d always dreamt of. 

“Oh, look at you,” He cooed, as if mocking you. “Working hard for this cock, huh? Remember that night at the bar, bet you wanted it right there. You could barely wait to have it, could you? You barely bothered to ask me my full name,” He chuckled. “You were just so hungry for it.” Bucky let out a carefree chuckle as he looked down at you, “Tell me, do you still want it just the same now that you know who I really am?” He asked, knowing damn well you couldn’t respond with his cock filling your mouth. 

Another tear dropped from your eye, but then you nodded awkwardly, mouth still around his tip. 

“Yeah, you do. ‘Cause you’re nothing but a cock hungry little slut, aren’t you?” He groaned at the sight of you with your mouth full and said, “That’s it. Get up.” 

You listened, and he shoved you up on the edge of the table again before he stepped in between your legs. His hand grabbed you by the chin, holding your face in place as he aligned his cock to your core again. He slipped inside you with ease, making you gasp as he began fucking you again. 

“Look at you,” He spoke through gritted teeth, now fucking you with a rougher pace. “Fucking disgusting with spit and precum all over your mouth,” He whispered, leaning in just to mess with you – not once kissing you. He pushed your thighs further apart so he could fuck you deeper. 

“Bucky…” You gasped. 

“What, slut?” He fucked deeper into you, pounding into you relentlessly. “Your little cunt feels so good, you know that? So fucking tight,” He whispered against your mouth, before pulling away to spit into your open mouth, not once stopping his thrusts. “It’s a shame you were such a bitch back then, otherwise you could’ve had this cock a long time ago.” 

“Please…” You whined as he pounded into you aggressively. A tear slipped out of the corner of your eye. 

“Yeah? You’re sorry now?” 

You nodded. 

Bucky felt your walls clench violently around him. “Fuck,” He growled into your ear, “Are you gonna come for me? You're gonna come all over this cock? Huh?”  

“Yes,” You whimpered, “Yes, please.” You cried in pleasure and pain. “Please, Buck.” 

“Damn it!” He groaned. “Fuck you! Fuck you for being so good. For messing with my head.” He hissed, staring deep into your eyes, “And fuck you for not letting me enjoy this as much as I wanted to because I can’t bring myself to fucking hurt you!”  

Bucky slowed down just a little, making you cry out. 

“I dreamt of this, you know? All I’ve ever done is think about this moment right here. I always thought I’d scare you to a point where you take off running,” He scoffed, “Hell, I even fantasized about chasing after you in these damn woods!” He shook his head, still holding your stare. “Look at me now, look! Even now I couldn’t help but make it nice and good for you. To fuck you like I know you like it. I couldn’t help but be buried deep inside you yet again!” 

“I’m sorry,” You whined, “I really am.” 

Bucky wanted to punch himself. 

“Shut the fuck up and come for me!” 

A loud cry, then you came – mumbling and whining and crying. A complete mess on his desk. 

Bucky followed shortly after, coming undone while he was buried deep inside you, gripping your thigh so tightly that his fingers would surely leave a bruise behind. He caught you just as you fell forward into his chest, unable to hold yourself up as you caught your breath. 

Bucky calmed himself down, let out a sigh and glared at that damned, giant bulletin board covering the entire wall behind you as he wrapped his arms around your shaking body. God damn it. 

—

Reader’s POV: 

Your memory was a little hazy after that. You remembered bits and pieces. How he got you into the shower. His gentle touches, even as he washed himself. His hands and how they never left your body, holding you close and cleaning you up as best he could. 

Him whispered, “I’ve got you.” Over and over again. Like he was guilty. 

You remember you tried talking to him, as he dried you with a fluffy towel, “You hate me.” It came out like a statement. 

“Be quiet.” His icy voice snapped, and he refused to meet your eyes. The coldness of his tone and the soothing, gentle touch of his hands were giving you a whiplash. But you took it. Of course, you did. 

“Would you ever forgive me?” You asked him as he wrapped your favourite fluffy robe around you and brought you to bed. It was late, closer to sunrise than midnight. “Could you?” 

Bucky finally looked at you and said, “Just… be quiet.” His tone was much softer than earlier. “Here, drink this.” He handed you some water. You accepted it, sipping on it as you let him fuss over the bedding and blankets until he made a nice little nest for you to sink into. 

You thought he’d tuck you in and leave, probably to go back to that weird lair of his downstairs. But no, he got in after you. Quiet, and grumpy as he was, he still pulled in to cuddle like you two had the habit of doing for the past month or two. 

You hid your face into his chest, sighing and breathing in his scent, letting his body heat warm you up. You could hear the wind picking up outside, but that was none of your concern. 

A minute went by in silence, in darkness, except for the bedside lamp which illuminated the room with a soft golden glow. Another minute went by, Bucky breathed steadily. His hands moving up and down your back. Both of you were quiet. 

There was so much you wanted to say to him, but all that came out was, “I’m sorry, Bucky.” 

He sighed, then let out a mindless, “Hmm.” 

“I really am.” You whispered again, snuggling closer as if you wanted to get inside his skin. 

Another careless, “Hmm.” 

You sniffled, feeling like crying again. “Please forgive me.” 

“Stop crying.” He said, gently this time. 

“I’ll make up for it.” You found yourself saying. “I’ll do anything. I mean it.” 

Bucky sighed. “Oh yeah? How will you make up for it?” He said, with just a hint of pleasantry in his tone. 

“How many kids do you want?” 

Bucky chuckled. Genuinely chuckled, not like the mocking ones from earlier. But this was boyish, and very him. “You’re finishing your book tour soon.” He said. “Then you’ve got to start on your new project.” He sighed again, sounding a little tired and spent. “No kids for now, angel.” 

Silence again. This silence felt way less tense than before. Bucky’s movements were getting slower and slower as he relaxed more and more. 

Then out of nowhere you asked, “Have you… ever read any of my books?” 

A pause. Then he said, “All of them.” 

That took you by genuine surprise. “All of them?” 

“All of them.” 

You hesitated to ask, “Do you like them? 

Bucky let out a soft chuckle. “Do I like them?” He taunted. “Look at me. I became what you write about.” Then he reached for your face, tilting your head up so he could look at you. “Yes I do. I like them.” He said. “You’re very talented, baby. You deserved all the attention and recognition you get.” 

“Oh.” 

Silence again. You looked away from him, but he must’ve been able to see the gears turning in your head so he gently smacked your thigh and said, “Stop thinking.” He pulled the covers around you once again, making sure you were nice and warm. “Go to sleep.” He said. 

You snuggled deeper into his side, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. A few minutes went by, and Bucky fell asleep before you did. He began snoring softly just moments after. 

You stayed awake though. Thinking, caressing his bare chest. After all, how could one sleep after finally getting to where they plotted to be for the last ten years? You hid a smirk as you kissed Bucky’s warm, tattooed chest. You whispered, quietly, “Took me a decade to get to you, Buck. But it was all worth it.” You snuggled deeper into his side. Smiling at his adorable snores. 

Bucky was indeed a mastermind. Stalking you, following your each and every move. Keeping track of where you were and where you went at all times, who you met and what you did. It couldn’t have been easy. 

He thought he alone plotted this whole thing. He thought that he was the only one manipulating circumstances in ways to get what he wanted. Into getting you to let your guard down and let him in. Thinking you didn’t recognise him that night you met at the bar. 

Thinking you forgot. 

You let out a little chuckle, “Oh Buck. You did so well. But you don’t know half the work I put into all this.” You sighed, kissing his bare chest again, “Do you even know how much work goes into

manipulating someone into thinking they’re successfully manipulating you?” 

Bucky was a mastermind. Each one of his moves were perfectly calculated. He was so smart. He’d always been, ever since uni. 

But Bucky wasn’t the only mastermind. Because you plotted too. 

Always holding or attending book signings, readings, or other events in cities he was in. Always being around, but right outside of his circle – enough so that in these past ten years, he never stopped hearing about you from friends or colleagues, or friends of friends. Always making sure your advertisements were on billboards that were near his houses, offices, hang out spots, etc. 

All that was by your design. You made sure you’d never leave his head. 

You do admit, being mean to him in uni was stupid and unforgivable. But what else were you supposed to do? How else were you going to live rent free in his head? He never made a move on you in uni because he was also so intimidated. Always so shy, and quiet. 

So you did what you had to do. Sure, it took years. And the whole time, you let him think he was the only one orchestrating this. You let him think his manipulation techniques were working. You let him think he was punishing you when really, you’d been dreaming of these punishments ever since you saw him that first day on campus. 

Earlier, in the study, when you saw that bullet board and froze – it wasn’t out of fear. It was out of surprise. You knew Bucky always kept a close eye on you and everything you did these past years. You even let him. You let his guys follow you around, you let them overhear details you wanted Bucky to know. You let Bucky watch you, purposely lingering around cameras whenever you were out. 

But you didn’t know his obsession mirrored yours. Because if he would’ve searched your penthouse a little more thoroughly, he would’ve found a similar bulletin board that you’d been keeping for years now – tracking him and all that he did. 

You placed another kiss on Bucky’s chest and sighed in bliss. “You’re not the only mastermind, baby. But it’s not a competition now, is it? We both got what we wanted. Didn’t we?” You asked, looking up to see his peaceful, sleeping face. “Huh, baby? It’s alright. You’re a tiny bit sloppy with your stalking skills, but never mind. I’m here now. And I’m not leaving.” 

---

“Angel,” He whispers, cutting through the fog in your head. You whine, wiggling your hips slightly to get him to go faster. He doesn’t.

“Angel,” He says again, louder this time. You can feel yourself rocking, and more whines and whimpers spill from your lips.

Your body is shaken a little harder, and all at once, the haze is gone.

The haze is gone, now replaced by the soft light of the sun streaming in through the curtains. Upon opening your eyes, you blink slowly, staring up at a smiling Bucky with bleary eyes.

“B-Bucky?” You mumble, voice thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost seven-thirty. I was going to wake you up so we could shower together, but you looked so peaceful that I decided to let you sleep in a little longer.” His smile gives away that he probably knew what you were dreaming about, and the thought makes your face grow hot. There’s a stickiness between your legs, one that you’re desperately trying to ignore as you sit upright.

“Oh, I - I’m sorry,” You say remorsefully, you know how much Bucky likes keeping you on a routine. You’re supposed to wake up at seven every morning, shower with Bucky, and then sit on his lap as he feeds you whatever he made for breakfast that day. So, for him to disrupt your schedule, even by thirty minutes, feels weird. You decide not to question it for the time being.

“No, baby, it’s okay,” Bucky says as he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I know we did a lot of gardening yesterday so being in that heat probably made you extra tired. But, now that you’re up, why don’t you go ahead and get showered while I make us some food, yeah?”

Even though it’s phrased as a question, you know it’s not. You don’t really get a say in anything, but… but that’s your life now, isn’t it? Not being able to decide for yourself, having no freedom from outside of the confines of this cabin that you’ve been trapped in for… god, who knows how long.

Without wasting much time, you slide out of bed, stopping to give Bucky a smile and a kiss before you go into the bathroom. When you enter, you make sure to leave the door halfway open, another thing Bucky likes. He doesn’t like the idea of a barrier between you two, always needing easy access in case you somehow injure yourself, or he just needs some extra love and doesn’t want to waste time by fiddling with the doorknob. 

Your movements are almost robotic as you take off your clothes, once again ignoring the ache between your thighs as you toss your clothes in the hamper. You try not to look at yourself in the mirror, you actually hate doing it. Because the person who looks back at you is supposed to be you. The person in your reflection is supposed to have life in her eyes, her face shouldn’t have a permanent frown etched onto it whenever she doesn’t have to plaster on a fake smile for Bucky.

Except… is it fake? It’s been so long since you’ve seen your friends and family, your loyal customers at the coffee shop you used to hate working at but now would give anything to go back to, you’d happily take the yelling from angry customers over their drinks being wrong than being held in the middle of the woods by a man who desperately needs intense therapy. He told you he used to go before you ‘moved’ in, as he likes to say, but now with you around he doesn’t feel the need to go. He has all of his happiness right in his home every day.

And it’s getting significantly harder to convince yourself that this isn’t what you want, you don’t want to be confined to this cabin and the garden surrounding it. It’s so fucking hard to forget that this isn’t the fairytale romance you had envisioned as a kid, but it’s also hard to remember your life before Bucky. Because he’s just so damn sweet and loving that it’s fucking with your mind, it makes you want to scream.

Bucky goes out and buys you flowers every Sunday, making sure to write a heartfelt message on the card attached to the bouquet by a ribbon. He built a huge library before you got here and let you pick the trinkets and books that would fill the shelves. He even bought gardening supplies after a few months when he realized you were getting too cooped up and gave you access to the space in the backyard.

You like to think that if you met under better circumstances then your relationship would be vastly different. It would be happy for both of you, not just one-sided. However… would it really be so bad to just give in? By now you know you’re never escaping, and you’re tired of being so despondent all the time, you’re tired of dreading another day with your captor.

You’re just tired. Of everything.

It takes effort to pull your gaze away from the mirror, but you eventually reach into the shower to turn the water on. When it’s warm enough, you step inside, letting the hot water cascade over your body and soothe the ache in your soul. And while standing under the stream your mind wanders back to your dream.  You’ve been having these dreams more and more over the last few weeks. They don’t happen every night, and it’s not always the same scenario, but the overall theme of the dreams is just the same.

You’d bet you’ve been in this cabin for almost a year, judging by the change in weather reminiscent of when you were taken. And in that time, Bucky has made no sexual advancement towards you. His affection usually consists of kisses, cuddles, and gentle massages when he wants you to really relax. There might be a bit of groping when you’re in the shower together, but he’s done nothing more than that, and that confuses you even more. You figured at first that maybe he was just going to let you acclimate to this new environment before making his move, but he’s done no such thing. He’s been very clear in his pure intentions, has never made you feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to do.

But why? Isn’t your sole reason for being here to please him?

Once again, it confuses you, and when you move your head slightly some of the water splashes onto your face, knocking you out of your thoughts. Deciding you’ve dwelled enough, you grab your loofah and start washing your body, trying to ignore the ache in between your thighs as you give your legs a cursory wash. And as you continue through your shower, you can hear Bucky’s footsteps on the carpet in your bedroom.

You know that he’s a trained assassin, can sneak up on someone without them hearing anything, but Bucky’s told you he doesn’t want to scare you. He did once when you first got here. He didn’t have any intentions of spooking you, he just wanted to come up behind you and wrap his arms around you while you cooked. But you ended up nearly shrieking and almost spilling the sauce you were making, and Bucky felt so guilty that he didn’t touch you for two days until you convinced him that you weren’t scared of him, you were just surprised because you didn’t hear him coming. So now Bucky always makes sure to walk a little heavier to alert you of his presence.

“Angel?” His voice echoes through the bathroom as he enters, the door opening wider and allowing you to see Bucky’s hazy form from behind the glass shower door. “Are you okay?” Fuck, you’ve probably been in here too long if he’s already done with breakfast.

“Yes,” You say as you turn off the water. Upon stepping out of the shower, Bucky is there to wrap a towel around your shoulders to start drying you off. “Sorry, the hot water just felt nice.”

Bucky chuckles as he rubs the towel over your body, smiling at you the way he always does – that he can never really believe that you’re real.

“It’s okay, angel,” He says as he puts the towel in the hamper and turns to grab one of his shirts that he loves seeing you wear. “But I’m sure my excellent cooking will be enough reason to get out.” At that, he laughs again, and you do too, because his cooking isn’t all that great. He’s gotten much better over the last year, but it could still be better.

“It always is.”

“You’re lying and I know it.” Bucky laughs again and squints his eyes at you, giving you a teasing glare after he pulls the shirt over your head. And it makes you feel at least a little better knowing that he’s self-aware enough to know that.

“Okay, so maybe it isn’t the best food I’ve ever eaten,” You concede, holding onto Bucky’s shoulders to steady yourself as he dresses you in underwear and shorts. “But I’ll still eat anything you make because you made it.” And it kind of hurts to admit, but your sentiment isn’t a total lie. Bucky may be disturbed, but he truly puts all of his love into everything he does, and you can’t deny that he puts so much effort into making you comfortable.

Bucky’s still squatting when you say that, and he lets his hands rest on your hips while he looks up at you with nothing less than absolute adoration.

“And because you love me?” He asks, hopefully. He loves it when you say it, you’re pretty sure it’s his favorite three words he’s ever heard.

Combing your fingers through his hair, you scratch at his scalp a little and force your voice not to waver as you say, “And because I love you.”

The rest of the day goes by as it usually does; Bucky feeds you breakfast with you perched on his lap, giving you kisses in between bites and sighing wistfully every so often. Afterward, you make your way to the library and sit on the bench seat by the window, reading one of the many classics that fill the room for a couple of hours while Bucky goes out to run errands.

Although, if you’re being honest with yourself, you’re not really reading. Your eyes are skimming over the words but you’re not processing any of them. No, your mind is still focused on this morning and how real the dream felt, how a part of you that you try to ignore wants it to be real. You try to chalk it up to the fact that you haven’t been intimate with anyone in so long, but the fact that it’s Bucky you’re dreaming about makes you think that it might just be him that you want.

No. Stop it. He kidnapped you. You don’t want him.

As you’re about to give up on reading, you hear the door creak open wider. Looking up, you see Bucky standing in the doorway, shuffling nervously and fiddling with his fingers.

“Is everything okay, Bucky?” You close the book and set it aside, your eyebrows furrowing with worry as you walk towards him.

“I…” He trails off, briefly biting his lip before smiling wide, like a kid on Halloween that filled up his candy bag. “Just come with me.”

Bucky reaches out his hand, and you place yours in his. You’re confused, but go with him anyway. He leads you down the hallway to the spare room – you’re not sure why he included it when he built the cabin, but you’ve never asked why. When you get there, Bucky is practically vibrating with nervous excitement. He smiles at you one more time before opening the door and revealing the interior. And it’s full of cat trees and toys, and you’re momentarily confused as to why he has these before you spot a ball of white fur curled up on a mini hammock.

Immediately, you recognize it as a cat, clearly a baby considering how small it is. Bucky tugs you further into the room towards where the kitten is sleeping, stopping right in front of the hammock and moving behind you so he can wrap his arms around your waist.

“I found her a couple of days ago,” Bucky starts, and you can feel him smiling into your neck. “She was all the way out in the back of the property, shivering and dirty. She’s just so small and I knew I had to take her in before anything happened to her. I brought all the toys and cat trees in just now when you were in the library so you wouldn’t see it. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

And oh what a surprise it is. The kitten must hear Bucky talking because her eyes slowly blink open before landing on you, meowing softly and shifting in the hammock so she can lean her paws on the side and lift up in what you’re assuming is an attempt to get pets. You’re helpless but to pick her up and cuddle her close to your chest, your heart warming with affection when she nuzzles into you.

“What’s her name?” Your voice is soft because you don’t want to disturb her, and she meows again, almost like she’s thanking you for the consideration.

“I haven’t named her yet. I wanted you to.”

It takes no time at all for you to answer.

“Alpine.”

“Alpine?” Bucky sounds curious, and he kisses your temple as he moves to gently scratch behind her ears. “Why that name?”

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly. “She just looks like an Alpine.”

Bucky laughs from behind you, kissing your temple once more and nodding.

“Alpine it is.”

A few days later, you’re in Alpine’s dedicated room playing with her. She’s allowed to free roam throughout the house, but she prefers being in here – or, really, anywhere you are. She’s taken a liking to you, and you to her. She’s almost like a friend to you, someone you can turn to when you get too sad because you know she won’t judge you, she’ll give you kisses and cuddles and make you feel better within minutes. You’re currently lying on your stomach, giving Alpine head scratches and laughing softly when she nibbles at your fingers affectionately. 

“What should I do, hm?” Your question is rhetorical, you know she can’t understand you, let alone respond. Still, you like talking to her as though she can. “These… dreams are getting worse. Well, not worse per se, just – more intense. And I don’t know what to do about them. He’s never pressured me into anything, even though I’m fairly certain he does want… that.”

Sighing, you roll over onto your back, letting Alpine crawl onto your stomach and make her way up to your chest so her nose is nearly pressed against yours. And when she meows, you can’t help but smile.

“I don’t know if I want to tell him about them though. I mean, am I even ready? I’ve been here for so long and I know I’m not leaving, and he says he loves me, so I’m pretty sure he won’t make me do anything I don’t want even if I do tell him.” Pausing, you sigh, holding Alpine close to your chest while you sit up.

“What do you think, Alp? Should I tell him?” She immediately meows and lifts up to give your chin a little lick, and you smile at her. “Okay, okay.”

It takes a moment to gather yourself, letting the truth sink in.

“I’ll tell him.”

Despite not having access to any calendars, you’re pretty sure today is your anniversary. Bucky, once again, let you sleep in a little bit longer, staying in bed with you and holding you close while you traded kisses. He cooked up a huge breakfast and placed a big bouquet of roses on your nightstand, even going so far as to massage your feet and calves while you ate. Part of you doesn’t want to ask, because then it would be real. Not only have you been here for a full year, but you’ve been missing for longer than that, and that truth still hurts.

Still, you take everything he does for you gracefully, thanking him for being so thoughtful and trying not believe yourself when you tell him that you’ve never been treated so lovingly. Well, it’s kind of true, despite the fact that you didn’t come here willingly. He really does treat you with care, and his consideration of your feelings – other than the negative ones towards him – is something you haven’t experienced before.

It’s around mid-day when Bucky gives you your first gift. Well, it’s technically a joint gift for you and Alpine – an oversized hoodie with a pouch in front big enough for the kitty to snuggle in so you can carry her around the house with you without actually using your hands. It’s actually extremely thoughtful, and you can’t help but laugh when you notice that the hood has little cat ears on them.

“Thank you, Bucky,” You say after he helps you put it on, smiling wide when he picks up Alpine and helps put her inside the pocket.

“Of course, angel,” He says, also smiling. Then, he grabs his phone, pointing it at you. “Now, let me get a picture of my girls.”

You adjust your position on the couch, sitting up further and making sure Alpine’s head is poking out. Last minute, you flip up your hood, making sure the ears are visible and chuckling when you hear the rapid click of the camera as Bucky takes multiple photos. After he’s done, he pockets his phone again, coming to sit next to you on the couch and wrap one arm around you while he pets Alpine’s head with his other hand.

Everything is quiet for a little bit, both of you loving on your cat. When she starts trying to get out, presumably ready to play, Bucky helps her out of the pocket, then helps you out of the hoodie.

“Bucky?” You’re not sure why, but now feels like the right time to ask. Even though your entire body feels like it’s on fire.

“Yes, baby?”

“Um…” Sighing, you look down at your hands as you fiddle with your fingers. “I was wondering, um…”

“What’s wrong?” Bucky shifts so he’s facing you, using one hand to lift your chin so you can look at him.

“Why haven’t we had sex yet?” Your question comes out so fast that you’re unsure if Bucky actually understood you, but you don’t want to repeat yourself so you just hold your breath as you await his answer.

“What do you mean” He genuinely sounds confused, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, I just assumed that I was here to… please you. I know you love me, so I guess I’m just confused as to why you haven’t tried to do anything.” You try to breathe evenly, even though your heart is beating so fast in anxiety that you feel like you might pass out. You don’t want to upset him, so you’re hoping he doesn’t take offense to your comment.

Bucky doesn’t answer for a couple of minutes, he just sighs and dips his head low, like he’s thinking over his words carefully. But when he does speak, it surprises you.

“Because you’re not ready. You’re right when you say that I love you, which means I’m going to respect your boundaries. I don’t want to force you to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”

Tears want to spring to your eyes, because at that moment you know you’re rightfully fucked. He’s just too perfect that you can’t wrap your head around this conversation. You’d never thought of it like that, that he’d want to make sure you’re comfortable with him before taking that next step. And now you know that you want to, you want to give yourself to him in that way. And, now it’s your turn to lift his head to look at you, then lace your fingers with his.

“And… what if I am ready?”

Immediately, Bucky’s eyes widen, and you think you can see a little bit of hope in his eyes. Despite your earlier nerves, you can feel in your soul that you are ready to take the leap, and you can’t help but give him a soft smile.

“Are you sure?” He asks, squeezing your hand in a loving gesture. “I don’t want you to do something just because you think I’m expecting it.”

“I know you’re not expecting anything,” You say, briefly biting your lip. “And I want to, I promise.”

Bucky sighs, then leans forward to press his lips to yours. It’s not an intense kiss, it’s a reassuring one, a kiss that lets you know he wants this too. You pull apart when your stomach starts rumbling, and you’re reminded that you haven’t eaten since this morning.

“Come on, baby, let’s make lunch.”

You’re slightly on edge for the rest of the day, awaiting the moment. Bucky hasn’t made a move yet, so you’re assuming it’s going to happen before you go to bed, and even though you’re nervous, you can’t deny that most of those nerves are from excitement.

And when the clock strikes seven, Bucky leads you out of Alpine’s room and to yours, smiling at you the entire time. Typically, Bucky likes you to be in bed by eight-thirty, but you’re assuming you’re going to be up a little later tonight which is why he wants to start early. As soon as he closes the bedroom door, you can feel your heart beat increasing, and Bucky comes up in front of you to cup your face in his hands.

“Are you positive you want this?” His eyes scan your face, looking for a hint of doubt. He finds none, because you aren’t doubting this. You’re sure you’re not going to regret this.

“I promise, Bucky.” The assuring comment comes out breathy, and your eyes travel down to his lips before looking back up into his. “I’m ready.”

Bucky hums, nodding a little before leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. It slowly becomes more intense, your lips gliding against each other as your tongues start invading each others mouths. You don’t even notice when his hands land on your hips until they sneak up your shirt, causing you to squeak.

“Angel,” Bucky breathes out, removing his mouth from yours to glide down to your neck where he presses more insistent kisses, even nibbling on the skin until you’re sure you’ll have bruises. He slides his hands up to your waist, going up, up, and up until you’re prompted to lift your arms over your head so he can take off your shirt.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” He growls as his eyes scan your torso, causing you to whimper and hold onto his shoulders while you press your body closer to his.

“Bucky, please.” You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but Bucky seems to know exactly what you need.

In response to your begging, he lifts you into his arms, carrying you bridal-style to the bed until he lays you down in the middle of it. When he pulls back, he props himself up on his left forearm so he can place his flesh hand on your sternum. Dragging his hand down to your shorts, he toys with the ties, then looks up at you with a questioning look in his eyes.

“Yes,” You say when you realize he’s waiting for permission. “Please take them off, Bucky.”

He groans again, dipping his head low for a minute before undoing the ties and shifting up onto his knees so he can use both of his hands to drag your shorts down your legs. Now you’re left in just your bra and underwear, and you’re tempted to cover your body. He’s seen you naked hundreds of times, but this feels different, and you’re sure it’s because of the more intimate setting.

“Don’t,” He says adamantly, not being mean but letting you know there’s no room for discussion. “Don’t hide your body from me, angel. You’re perfect.”

Tears want to spring to your eyes, and you forget all about why you were so nervous in the first place, you don’t even know why you’ve resisted his love all this time.

“Thank you, baby,” You whimper, bringing up your hand to wipe at your eyes to get rid of the tears. “I… I love you.” And, this time, you know you mean it. You mean it with everything you have.

“I love you too. So fucking much.” Bucky smiles at you, his eyes also watery. He dips down again to kiss you, shuddering when you tug at his shirt. He moves slowly, kissing you for a few long moments until he huffs out a laugh at your insistent tugging at his shirt. “Okay, okay.”

Lifting up onto his knees, he grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, smiling wider when he catches you practically drooling over his exposed chest. But then he freezes up, briefly glancing at his left shoulder. And, you realize now that this new intimate setting is probably getting to him too, and you know you need to get rid of those awful thoughts he has about himself.

“Buck,” You say softly, sitting up and placing your hands on his chest. Your right hand travels to his shoulder where his flesh meets metal, and you trace the scars delicately with the tips of your fingers. “Please don’t be ashamed of them. You may not like it, but the scars don’t matter to me. They’re a part of you, and I love all of you.” You can see the tears in Bucky’s eyes as you speak, his bottom lip wobbling a little as he tries not to cry.

“Are you -” Bucky stops himself, sniffles and clears his throat, then continues. “Are you sure? I mean, you’ve seen it before but…”

“But nothing.” Your voice isn’t harsh, but you let him know you don’t want him to argue. “I said I love you, all of you. Don’t you believe me?”

“Of course I do!” Bucky says hurriedly, placing both of his hands over yours and squeezing them close to his chest. “I-I know you do. I love you too.” He sighs, bringing up one of your hands to kiss your knuckles. Then, he gently pushes you back onto the bed, not breaking eye contact as he shuffles off the bed so he can take off his sweats and boxers.

When they’re finally off, Bucky crawls back onto the bed, stopping at your hips so he can toy with the band of your panties. You nod at him when he looks to you for consent, and he keeps looking at you as he drags them down your legs, only breaking your gaze so he can focus on maneuvering your feet out of them. It seems like he wants to get going, but then his eyes travel to your bra-covered chest and he switches gears. Knowing what he wants, you arch your back so he can undo the hook and then you lay back down so he can throw it off to the side.

And now, you’re both naked, Bucky hovering over you and looking at you through teary eyes. He places his flesh hand on your stomach, trailing his fingers up to your breast so he can tweak one of your nipples.

“Bucky, please.”

“Don’t worry, angel,” Bucky says softly, dipping down to kiss your lips before kissing down your neck and collarbone, then stopping at your other breast so he can nibble on it. “I’ve got you, I’ve always got you,” He whispers into your skin.

“I know.” His eyes flick up to yours at the confirmation, and he smirks a little to himself as he bites down on your nipple, causing you to whimper. 

Despite your wiggling, he takes his time kissing over your chest, going down your stomach until he has to slide down the bed so he can come face-to-face with your pussy. You spread your legs of your own volition, and Bucky groans in appreciation, nuzzling his nose into your lower lips and breathing deeply.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” He nearly growls, shifting so he’s laying between your legs and placing his flesh hand on your thigh to keep you spread and using his metal hand to pull your other leg over his shoulder. “Is all this for me?” He asks, referring to the slick dripping out of your pussy.

“Yes, all for you.” You reach your hand down and card your fingers through his hair, prompting him to look up at you. “Only for you.”

Bucky swallows down his emotions, nodding at you one last time before diving in. He takes one more deep breath, nudging his nose along your folds, then using his flesh hand to spread them apart. You gasp when he drags his tongue from your quivering hole to your throbbing clit, and you’re hit with the overwhelming knowledge that you won’t last long. You haven’t been intimate with anyone – let alone had time for yourself – in so long, and Bucky seems to realize this when he pulls back just enough to mumble, “Cum whenever you need, baby. Give it to me.” 

He continues, dipping his tongue into your soaking hole, thrusting it in and out a few times before going up to nibble and suck on your clit. You don’t even realize that you’re now a blubbering mess, whining and moaning and squirming in Bucky’s hold as you feel your release build. And, you’d be embarrassed with how fast you’re about to cum considering how not-long you’ve been at this if not for Bucky’s groans of appreciation. You’re unconsciously tugging at his hair too, pulling him closer, but then your hand tightens when he suddenly prods his forefinger at your hole.

Immediately, you tense up a little, because, despite how wet you are, you’re still really tight. And Bucky’s fingers are big, so it takes a bit of shushing and sweet kisses to your thighs for you to relax enough for him to fit his finger in, but only just until the second knuckle. He pauses, letting you adjust to the intrusion, which you’re grateful for. He wiggles it a little, sucking and kissing your clit until you relax enough for him to push his finger in all the way, then pull it out so he can push it in again.

He keeps at the tortuously slow pace, carefully opening you up until he can fit a second finger in your pussy. Your breaths are coming out faster, you’re almost panting at this point as he speeds up until he’s truly fingering you, really giving you what you need. And right when you feel like you’re about to explode with pleasure, Bucky wraps his lips around your clit, bites down softly, and then sucks as shoves in a third finger and stabs at that special spot deep within you.

“Bucky! Oh, fuck, yes!” Bucky will gloat later about how loud he made you scream just from his fingers and mouth, how you squirted all over his forearm and chin. He’d also admit that he nearly blew his own load at your taste, but he wanted to save his release for you.

It takes a few long moments to come down from your high, and when you do, you see Bucky up on his knees looking down at you while fisting his cock.

“Are you sure you want this? We can stop if it’s too much.” You know Bucky doesn’t want to stop, but you also know he gladly would if you asked him to, which is how you know you want to continue.

“No stopping allowed,” You breathe out, smiling at him a little when he chuckles. “Now, please get inside me or I’ll cry.”

“There’s no need to cry right now, baby,” He says, leaning over you to prop himself up on his right forearm and grab the base of his cock with his metal hand and guide it to your entrance. “But you will be crying by the end of the night.”

You surge up to kiss him, biting his bottom lip and grasping his shoulders to brace yourself. Bucky groans, and you lay back down so you can stare into each other’s eyes as he pushes in slowly. Again, he seems to understand that even though you’ve just cum harder than you can ever remember, you’re still a little tight – especially since he’s easily the biggest man you’ve ever been with.

It takes a couple of minutes until he’s buried fully inside you. You’re whimpering while he’s biting his lip, letting out little groans. Placing his metal hand on your thigh, he spreads you open further, though not too far as to hurt you. Carefully, he pulls back, letting you get used to the movements when he pushes back in.

And it goes like this for a bit, Bucky fucking you slowly until you start wiggling your hips and clutch his shoulders.

“Pl-Please, Bucky. I – Faster.” You know you sound pathetic, but you can’t find it in you to care, mostly because your mind has floated off into space as you soak in the immense pleasure.

Bucky listens to you, taking his time in picking up the pace until you’re sure you’re about to break. He keeps mumbling praises the whole time, telling you how you’re so fucking beautiful and thank you for trusting me and god, I love you so much.

Lifting up your left leg, he places it over his shoulder, and every so often he’ll force his hips flush with the backs of your thighs and grind his hips, the tip of his cock nudging at your sweet spot and causing you to moan loudly. And, he was right, because the longer it goes on the more tears you can feel pooling in your eyes until they start streaming down your face.

“Bu – Bucky,” You can’t help but whine, your breaths coming out uneven as you try to control your emotions.

“It’s okay, angel,” He says, just this side of condescending. His tone sends shivers down your spine, and you have to force your eyes from closing because you want to see Bucky’s face for this. “I know it’s a lot, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes, fuck, you’re – Ah! You’re so big!” You can see through your hazy vision that he’s smirking, though you can tell he’s close to crying too. He’s always been emotionally open, always telling you how he’s feeling and encouraging you to share yours as well. Which is why you’re comfortable with being so vulnerable in front of him.

“Are you close?” He asks, his breathing speeding up as his hips do too. “Fuck, angel. Tell me you’re close.”

“I am!” You’re practically screaming at this point with every powerful thrust he gives you. To an outsider, it may look a little like he’s breaking you apart with his cock, but you know the truth. He’s putting you back together, making you whole in a way you’ve never been before. “Cum with me, please!”

Bucky groans and shudders, gritting his teeth when you dig your nails into his shoulders. Nodding, he adjusts his position so every thrust has his cock stabbing deep within you every time. And you place your hand on the side of his face, making sure he’s looking directly at you when you clench down purposefully, and he shouts at the same time you do, letting go at the same time.

You don’t know what happens after that, all you remember is having the most intense orgasm of your life and then suddenly you’re waking up cuddled into Bucky’s chest, the sky outside now dark as the moon sneaks up into the sky. Wiggling a little, you realize Bucky cleaned you up, but you can still feel the remnants of his cum inside you, and you relish in it.

“Bucky?” You mumble, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Just past ten,” He says softly, kissing the top of your head then lifting your chin so he can look into your eyes. “You don’t regret this, do you?” You can tell he’s nervous, that he really wants your answer to be no.

“I don’t.” You lean up to give him a lingering kiss, sighing into each other’s mouths before pulling away just enough to stare into his eyes as you say, “I’ll never regret being with you.”

And, finally, you mean it, because you realize now that this is the love you’ve always wished for. Bucky takes care of you in a way you both know no one else can, and you can only hope he knows that you can take care of him too. You’ll love him deeply, and you’ll give him the life he deserves.