Besotted 11/End
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings:Â this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR DOING TIME.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary:Â your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.
Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes (silverfox)
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
A car waits for you outside the motel. Sleek, black, vintage. Bucky jingles the keys as his other hand rests on your lower back. He takes you to the passenger side and opens the door.
"Is... This yours?" You ask as you admire the decals.
"It is now. I figured we'd need something more practical... Just til we can find you a ride of your own." He nudges you then brushes his fingertips down your arm. He takes your hand as you turn and he helps you into the seat. "You all in?"
He grips the top of the door as he lets you go. You wiggle in the seat and pull your elbows to your waist. You nod and he shuts the door.
Maybe you're going to breakfast? He looks nice; almost unlike himself in his tailored jacket. There's a thread at the back of your mind fraying but you're too afraid to tug it. It's not that.
He gets in the driver seat. His bike is still in the lot. You try not to think too much; it's not making anything better.
He starts the engine and settles in. You buckle the seat belt and measure your breaths. It's okay. You're going to be okay, right?
He puts one hand on your knee as he steers with his other. You stare out the window at the unfamiliar backroads. You don't know this area but you think he's headed away from town.
You hide your hand behind your thigh and fidget with the hem of your skirt. Your chest is churning. It all feels so ritualistic. You've listened to podcasts about serial killers who dressed up their victims or lured them in on false pretenses. But Bucky isn't that, right? They wouldn't just let someone like that free, would they?
You shiver as your nerves threaten to boil over. His hand crawls up your thigh and he purrs.
"Excited?" He asks.
You echo him in confusion.
"To be together. You missed me, didn't you? That's what you said last night." He intones as his fingertips knead your soft flesh.
"Yes," you put your hand on his and squirm. "I'm ticklish."
"Oh, I know it," he growls. "You like it, baby. The way you get all jittery when I bite right there..." he pushes into the cushion inside your leg and you squeal. He shifts his hand and wiggles his hand further up. "And here."
You squeak again and cling to his fingers. Your legs tremble as he finds your most tender spots. What makes you shake more is his strength and how easily he can ignore your resistance.
You gulp and look out the window. "So... Where are we going?"
"I told you, doll, it's a surprise. But you'll like it." He pets the inside of your thigh. "What's important is we're together, huh?"
"Mhm," you hum nervously. His vagueness makes you want to scream.
"You know, a man like me, being inside so long, dealing with criminals, and I was so afraid of you." He snorts. "I was afraid you were too good for me. That you'd just... Leave me." He sighs. "But it's like you said, you're my good girl."
Another chill blows through you. This one from head to toe. The sort that has your brain on fire.
He clucks in content as the wind barrels around the car. Your eardrums are buzzing. It's like the world has shrunk down to just that space. You and Bucky in that car.
You let your eyes drift up to the sky. When the engine slows and the axel turns, you bring yourself back to earth. You're plummeting down but haven't hit the ground yet.
Bucky shifts into park and kills the engine. You lean forward as you take in the large building before you. The red paint on the wood has peeled away in wide strips and the roof peaks high above the foundation. It's so plain and unassuming but to you, it's a fortress.
You see another car. A white model similar to the one Bucky drives. But you don't see any people.
Bucky gets out. You can't move. You can't make yourself go inside as you notice the bell in the tower, right above the pointed roof. It can't be. It just can't.
He opens the door and waits. You don't react. He grabs your hand and tugs you until you do. You shakily turn in the seat and let him pull you to your feet.
He guides you over the gravel and shuts the door behind you. He hooks his arm through yours and marches you up to the doors. He opens the right one without hesitation.
As you enter, there's two men just inside; both in suits. One is around your age with reddish brown hair, another about ten or so years younger than your escort, with black hair and a permanent smirk.
"Sam," Bucky greets the latter man. "Parker," he doesn't even glance at the other.
"Steve is here. He's with the father."
"Figured. He's always early." Bucky tuts as you shift in your heels. You press your palms to the white dress.
"And the lucky lady." The one he called Sam grins at you. "You're too gorgeous for him, sweetheart. You should run."
I should, you agree internally. But you know better. Bucky showed you what he's capable; really, only a little of what you know he could do. You try to smile but can't. You look down.
"Nervous," Sam chuckles. "Well, I guess we should get on. We been waiting on you for long enough."
"Sure," Bucky shrugs. "We're here."
The two men go ahead of you through the archway behind them. As you follow, you take in the full breadth of the room full of pews. At the front, there's a stained glass window glimmering with sunlight behind and altar. There you see two men and another woman; she's also in white.
She looks nervous too. A blonde man stands at her side. His hair is streaked with silver, his blazer is white with black lapels, his pants match the latter. Bucky's attire is all black.
The other man where's all black with a flash of white at the collar. There's a sash around his shoulders and a cross at his neck. What kind of church is this?
"Hold up." The other man say before you can continue down the aisle.
The shorter man, Parker, offers you a bunch of flowers. You frown but take them, thanking him quietly. Sam pins a rose to Bucky's jacket then turns to slide a headband attached to a veil over your hair. Your legs buckle. No...
Bucky smiles at you. "Come on, doll."
He turns you up the aisle and forces you ahead. Your steps scuff on the floor as you can barely keep from collapsing. The closer you get, the heavier your feet are.
He stops you at the front. The other woman is adorned in a veil as well and handed a bouquet of her own. She stares at the petals and turns them in her hands.
The other man turns to Bucky. He lets you go to hug him, slapping his back with a laugh. "Nice to see you out." Bucky says.
"You too, pal." The other man replies as they part.
"Hey, doll," Bucky waves you closer. "This is Steve."
"Sweetheart," Steve beckons his woman forward. "Bucky. I told you about him."
"Hi," the other woman says. "Nice to meet you."
She's braver than you as you can barely get out a 'hi'. The father waits patiently and the two men look at him, then each other.
"Ready?" Steve asks.
"Never been more ready," Bucky assures and turns back to you.
He takes your hands in his as he faces you. You teeter and as you lean dangerously forward, his hands graze your arms and he holds you up. Your lashes flutter up at him as you sink into his oceanic eyes. You know what this is and you know you're not Julia Roberts. There will be no runaway bride today.
"We have our witnesses, our grooms, our brides," the priest begins. "Let us begin."
👙
Bucky's lips press to yours. His warmth is like fire. It melts away the ice around you. His tongue barges into your mouth as his large hand cradles your head. He devours you shamelessly.
Someone clears there throat. "Buck, it's still a church," Sam chortles as he steps forward to rap his knuckles across his arm.
Bucky draws away as his hand slips around to your cheek and his other comes up to frame the other. He licks his lips. "Can you blame a man? After I was away so long?"
"Can't say I do," Steve agrees.
You peek over your shoulder as he wraps his arm around his own bride and kisses her cheek. Her lip gloss is smeared around her mouth as she stares dopily. He squeezes her side as he pauses to thank the priest. It's only then, you notice the neck tattoos above the holy collar.
"We came here to witness a wedding not your depravity," Sam cackles.
"Yeah, Jesus," Parker agrees then blanches at the priest. "Sorry, father."
"The Lord forgives," the cleric replies. "Blessed be your unions."
"So...we gonna eat or what? I'm starving." Sam slaps his stomach.
"Me too," Bucky growls into your temple.
"Hmph. Keep it together, bud," Sam chides. "I made that reservation like you said."
"Yeah, yeah," Bucky slings his arm over your shoulder. "Let's go."
"Sweetheart," Steve purrs and takes his woman by her hand. He leads her down the aisle first. You can barely keep it together as you walk next to Bucky.
You come out into the sunlight and shield your eyes. It's sweltering, almost blinding. The world around you is overwhelming. You just want it to go away.
Steve takes the other woman to the white car as the other men disappear around the other side of the church. You stop short and dig your heels into the gravel. Everyone and everything just needs to stop.
Bucky chuckles as he draws back to you. "What's going on, doll?"
You blink at him. Your mouth is dry and your eyes are stinging from the sun's glare. Or maybe that's fear.
"Ah, don't worry, I got you." He scoops you up in his arms and you yelp in surprise. He hikes you up and turns back, striding proudly to the car. "Your carriage awaits you, my queen."
"Bucky..." You whittle out weakly. "Bucky, what... What did you do?"
He stops by the car and tilts his head. "I told you, doll. Today is just the beginning--"
"Bucky..." Your voice cracks and you wriggle in his grasp. "Bucky... Please. I..."
You're what? Afraid? Stupid? You didn't mean it? You just said what the priest told you to?
You can't tell him any of that. You can't even put to words evryrhting that you feel. Everything that scares you. That he is what scares you most.
"You go on," Bucky calls over the top of the car. "We'll catch up."
Car doors open and close, other voices waft and fade out. Bucky bends his knees next to the car. "Open it."
You stare at him, pleading. Say it's a joke. Say he's just trying to scare you. This is too fast. After he dragged it all out, how can he just flip it on you like this?
"Bucky... That wasn't real, was it?"
He laughs again and it fizzles out to a growl.
"Doll, you know I don't play. Now open the damn door." His smile fades.
You obey. You grab the handle and he angles you so you can pull the back door open. He steps around it and bends to put you inside.
"Move." He taps your knee as he grips the top of the car.
Your lip quivers and you shimmy over the seat. He slides in next to you and shuts the door. He sighs and tugs on his belt buckle.
"You know I won't be able to get through out wedding dinner without an appetizer," he drawls.
You stare at him. He looks back at you as he opens his fly and pulls himself out. His eyes fall to your chest.
"Take those out and hop on." He demands.
You hug your stomach and pout. You quaver his name one last time. He growls and his jaw juts out.
"You just swore to the lord that you're mine. Don't be messing with me." He reaches over and yanks on your dress. "And don't go spoiling the happiest damn day of our lives."
You put your hand on his and look down. You bat away the glaze in your eyes as the air flows out of you. You nod and lean forward, reaching awkwardly for your zipper.
He lets go of the front of the dress and helps tug down the tap. You let the fabric fall down your shoulders with the last of your strength. Your chest spills out and he groans.
You turn and put a hand on his chest. You get up on your knees and hook one over him, straddling him. The last month closes around you like his fist. It was all so fast, so sudden. And it was all your fault.
You didn't listen to him or sense. You chased your own desperation and now you're bound by it. All you wanted was to lose your virginity, but now you've lost yourself.
