no one else 𐙚 b.b
pairing: new avenger!dark!bucky barnes x fem!reader (non-con)
warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, non-con sex, forced oral (f and m rec), forced deepthroating, orgasm during assault, creampie without consent, size kink, physical restraint, verbal degradation, coercion, emotional manipulation, fear responses, delusional obsession, absolutely no consent throughout (please read all the warnings)
summary: you have a boyfriend, but bucky could care less. he waited, watched, let the fantasy of you rot until all that was left was his need and obsession.
word count: 4.1k
author's note: hi my loves! i took a break from writing dark fics, and i'm finally back with them! this fic consists of non-consensual sex, everything's in the warnings, please read them first! thank you for stopping by, love you guys and stay safe out there! 💌
It always started with you. Always.
Your face. Your laugh. The scent of your shampoo drifting down the hallway when you passed him, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that it lingered, stuck to his lungs like smoke.
And it always ended the same way, him alone in the dark, jaw clenched, cock in hand, your name bitten into the curve of his tongue like a sin he wasn’t ready to repent for.
You didn’t know what you did to him. Maybe that was the worst part. The sweet, casual devastation of it.
The way you flitted around the compound like a fucking angel, smiling at everyone, throwing out kindness like it cost absolutely nothing. You moved with the easy, blameless confidence of someone who had no idea they were being watched.
Worshipped. Studied.
Every time you called him “Bucky,” you were wrapping a noose around his neck and pulling it tighter—and hell, you didn’t even realise.
He could handle the smiles, fuck, he could even stomach the soft laughs, the way you bumped his arm in the hallway like you were allowed to touch him, like you didn’t understand what that touch did to him.
What he couldn’t handle… was the other guy. The one you dressed up for.
Tonight you wore black. A silky little thing that looked painted on, hugging your curves like it had been tailored just for him to rip off. The neckline dipped low, too low, and the hem barely reached your thighs. It moved when you walked, swaying like it knew exactly what it was doing to him.
And the heels—fuck—the heels clicked against the floor with every step, each sound a god damn warning bell in his skull.
Danger, danger, danger.
He would’ve dropped to his fucking knees and kissed them if you let him.
But you didn’t let him.
Instead, you let him. That boyfriend, that placeholder.
That soft, safe, civilian little fuck who didn’t know the first thing about what you needed. Didn’t know what it meant when your hands trembled, didn’t see how your pupils dilated just a fraction every time Bucky entered the room. Didn’t notice that your body responded to him.
Not your boyfriend. Him.
Bucky knew what to do with you, he’d dreamed it a hundred times.
A thousand.
No—he’d planned it. Every scenario. Every sound. Every twitch of your hips as he forced them apart. Fingers buried in your hair, tears on your cheeks, thighs shaking around his face. His cock, thick, heavy, yours, slamming into you from behind while you sobbed his name into the pillow like a prayer turned sacrilege.
You’d fight. Of course you would. You’d cry. Say no.
But your body would betray you. He knew it would.
That was the part he thought about the most.
The moment where your “no” would melt into a “please.” The way your voice would break. The moment you realised—no one would ever fuck you the way he could.
You would beg for it, not with words. Never with words. You wore temptation like a crown and never even noticed who you were ruling.
He tried to be good. Fuck, he tried.
He left gifts. Dropped as many hints as he could. Brought you coffee when you looked tired, memorised the way your eyes lit up at stupid little things like that advertisement about adopting abandoned puppies. He laughed at your jokes and waited for you to look at him the way he looked at you.
But you didn’t.
You were blind. Blind and soft and so goddamn ignorant of the way you made him ache.
Until tonight.
Because tonight… Bucky wasn’t waiting anymore.
He was going to show you.
Bucky let himself into your room exactly forty minutes after you left. Picked the lock with practiced ease and entered without hesitation. Sat on the edge of your bed like he belonged there.
The shadows welcomed him. The silence swallowed the sound of his breath. He stared at your pillow like it was something sacred. Inhaled your scent. Let his fingers curl around your blanket like they were already touching you.
And then he waited.
He waited for the sound of heels on the floor. For the delicate click of your key sliding into the lock of your room. And when the door opened, when you pushed into the room with a breathless little sigh, humming under your breath, drunk on cheap wine and a forgettable man—he felt it.
That hunger. That rage. That need.
You didn’t scream when you saw him.
You should have.
You just smiled, sleepy, unbothered. That same stupid sweet smile that used to make his chest burn before it made his cock twitch.
“Hey, Buck,” you said, your voice warm and airy. “What’s up?”
Still glowing. Lipstick smeared at the corners of your mouth. Perfume clinging to your throat like a lover’s kiss. Hair mussed from hands that didn’t belong to him.
His vision tinted red.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched you reach for your earrings, humming like he wasn’t in the room, like he wasn’t staring at you like prey.
Your back was turned. Your neck was bared.
He wondered if your boyfriend had marked you. He hoped not.
Because that was his job.
You turned to face him then. And something in your expression shifted.
“…Is everything okay?”
“No,” Bucky said, standing. “Not really.”
He moved slowly. Controlled. Like something that had waited years to pounce.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said. His voice was soft. Careful.
You blinked. “Bucky—”
“I mean really thinking, sweetheart, every night. For weeks.”
You stepped back. Just one step. Subtle. But he noticed.
“We’ve talked about this,” you said carefully. “You know I—”
“Have a boyfriend,” he finished.
He chuckled. A hollow, bitter sound.
“Yeah. I know.”
He crossed the distance between you in two long strides. His shadow swallowed yours.
“You think he makes you happy?” he asked, voice quiet. Dangerous. “You think he even knows how to touch you?”
Your lips parted. “Please don’t—”
“Does he know how wet you get when someone puts their hand on your throat?”
The air stopped moving.
“Does he know how you clench your thighs together when I walk past you in the gym?”
You inhaled sharply. And something inside him snapped.
“You wore that little black dress for him?” he whispered, his fingers brushing your bare thigh. “Or was it for me?”
“Stop it,” you breathed, shrinking back.
But it was too late.
He grabbed you—fast, brutal. Vibranium hand clamped around your wrist, dragging you forward, slamming you against the wall.
You gasped, the impact jarring.
He loomed over you, chest heaving, pupils blown wide. You could smell him—leather and sweat and heat.
“Let me ask you something,” he said, his voice low and rough, almost amused. “Has your boyfriend ever filled this little pussy up ‘til you cried?”
“Bucky, stop—”
“Ever made you come with his mouth while you begged him to stop and keep going all at once?”
Tears welled in your eyes, but he wasn’t done.
“Ever pinned you down,” he murmured, voice dipping lower, “and fucked you so good you couldn’t walk the next day?”
You shook your head.
Not no.
Just fear, shock, and disbelief.
“Thought so,” he muttered. His hand tightened on your wrist. “You’ve been walking around here like you don’t belong to someone. Like this body isn’t mine.”
Your breath hitched.
“I tried being patient,” he said, almost to himself. “I really did. But you keep wearing things like that. Keep smiling at me like you don’t know. You keep fucking pretending.”
He smiled then. Sharp. Crooked. Hungry.
“Tonight, I’m going to give you exactly what you’ve been asking for.”
Your lips parted. To beg. To scream. To say no.
But he kissed you first.
And it didn’t matter anymore.
You didn’t make it to the door.
Bucky dragged you backward, one hand still locked around your wrist while the other slid up your thigh—rough, possessive, not fumbling but practiced. Confident. Like he’d touched you a thousand times in his head and knew exactly how and where to hurt you best.
You struggled and he laughed.
“You’re so soft when you squirm,” he muttered, spinning you in his grip and slamming you back into the wall.
The picture frame above your bed rattled. Your hands clawed at him, trying to shove him back, but he just grabbed both wrists and pinned them above your head with his vibranium hand. The other curled beneath your jaw, thumb dragging over your lips.
“You think that little boyfriend of yours would fight for you like this?” he whispered, tongue flicking against his teeth. “Think he’d bleed for you? Kill for you? You know I would.”
His mouth found your neck. You gasped as he bit down—not gentle. No. Hard. Bruising. Like he wanted to leave proof behind, like he wanted your skin to remember him.
“Bucky—please,” you breathed, trembling.
“Shh,” he said, grinning. “We’re past talking now, princess.”
And then he dropped to his knees.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t worship. It was hunger. Obsession. Something primal he’d been starving down for too long. You kicked at him—once, twice—until he grabbed your thighs and threw you backward onto the bed.
The world spun, the mattress dipped. And before you could scream, he was between your legs like a man possessed.
“Don’t fight me,” he said softly. “You’ll love this part.”
He yanked your dress up to your hips. Cold air kissed the tops of your thighs. And then—
“Fuck,” Bucky rasped, voice dark with lust. “Look at you.”
Your panties were soaked through. A fragile wisp of black lace that did nothing to hide the heat between your legs.
Bucky’s pupils blew wide.
“You wore these for him?” he asked, voice mocking. “These cheap little things?”
He hooked a finger through the fabric and ripped. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the room. Torn lace fluttered to the floor.
You sobbed, curling away from him, but his arms caged you in. Knees pinning your thighs open. Shoulders wedged between them. His face so close you could feel the heat of his breath fan over your exposed cunt.
“Look at this pretty pussy,” he whispered. “So wet for me already.”
“It’s not—Bucky, don’t—”
“Liar,” he growled, and then—
He devoured you.
Tongue hot, thick, rough as it dragged up the full length of your slit. His nose pressed deep into your folds, inhaling like your scent was a drug he needed to stay alive.
He moaned into your cunt, mouth working in wet, messy circles that made your hips jerk against your will.
Your fists beat weakly at his shoulders. He didn’t care. Didn’t stop.
He ate you like a man starved, tongue stroking deep, wide, purposeful. His lips closed over your clit and sucked, pulling the sound right out of your throat.
A loud, shattering gasp you didn’t mean to make.
“Oh, baby…” he laughed darkly. “You didn’t know you needed this, did you?”
“Please—” you sobbed. “Stop—don’t—”
But your body betrayed you, your hips rocked into his face. Your thighs trembled. And when his vibranium hand pinned your stomach flat to the bed, holding you still, you whimpered.
That was all the permission he needed.
“Yeah,” he growled. “That’s it. Let me hear it. Let me hear what he’s never earned.”
He fucked you with his tongue, fingers digging into your thighs so tight you knew they’d bruise. Your vision blurred, your spine arched. You were crying and gasping and wet in a way you couldn’t stop, couldn’t control, and he knew it.
“Practically begging me to fuck you,” he rasped, voice soaked in triumph.
And then it hit.
The orgasm slammed through you like a fucking car crash. Your body convulsed, mouth open in a soundless cry as wave after wave shattered through your core, your clit throbbing against his lips as he sucked every last tremor out of you with vicious, greedy delight.
You didn’t mean to cum. You didn’t want to.
But you did.
Hard.
Your thighs shook violently, your eyes flooded. And Bucky moaned into you like your pleasure was his oxygen.
When he finally pulled back, his mouth was glistening.
“I knew you’d taste good,” he said, licking your slick from his lips. “Fucking knew it.”
You curled into yourself, shaking, broken. Eyes wide and wet and ruined.
He didn’t care.
Because now, he was standing. Unbuckling his belt. And pulling out the one thing you were never meant to see.
His cock.
It was thick. Heavy. Veined. Leaking at the tip. Too big to be real. The kind of size you only ever joked about. The kind that hurt.
You stared. He smiled.
“You gonna cry about it?” he asked, stroking the length slowly, watching your expression twist. “Or are you gonna open that pretty little mouth and say thank you?”
You tried to crawl away, he grabbed your hair and dragged you forward.
You didn’t want to look at it. Didn’t want to see the way his hand curled around that monstrous length—slow, possessive strokes like he was showing off, like he knew the size alone would scare you.
And it did. It fucking did.
Thick. Hard. Veins raised and pulsing under flushed skin, the tip angry and red, already leaking for you. Too big, too much and your heart sank when you realised he was stroking it with practiced ease, already imagining how deep he’d stuff it down your throat.
“Bucky…” Your voice was barely a whisper.
He grabbed your hair and forced your eyes back up to his. “Open your mouth.”
You shook your head, trembling. “Please, don’t make me—”
His grip tightened. “You came for me. I tasted it. Don’t play innocent now, baby.”
You whimpered as he pushed your face down, his cock dragging across your cheek, smearing precum across your flushed skin like a mark of ownership.
“You’re mine,” he said softly. “All those nights I lay in bed thinking about this pretty little mouth… All those fucking times you laughed at my jokes like I couldn’t see through it. Like I wasn’t good enough.”
He pressed the swollen head of his cock to your lips. “I am good enough princess, I’m the only one who deserves you.”
You tried to turn away. He didn’t let you. He forced your mouth open, sliding the tip past your lips.
Salty. Warm. Violent.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Don’t be shy.”
You gagged immediately as the thick weight of him pushed deeper. Your throat clenched, but he didn’t stop.
His hips rolled forward slowly, deliberately, dragging his cock deeper inch by inch like he wanted to feel every tear slipping from your eyes as your mouth stretched around him.
His hand cradled the back of your head, holding you in place as your jaw ached, your throat spasmed, and saliva spilled from the corners of your lips.
“There you go,” he groaned, head falling back. “Just like that, princess. This mouth was fucking made for me.”
You choked, pulling at his wrist, but he was unmovable.
“Look at you,” he murmured, gaze dropping back to yours. “Crying so pretty for my cock.”
He rocked his hips again. Deeper. Rougher. You gagged, coughed, nose pressing into the base of him as your throat convulsed helplessly around the intrusion.
“Fuck, yes,” he hissed. “That tight throat. You feel that? Feel how deep you’re taking me?”
You could barely breathe. Your lungs screamed.
He pulled back—just enough to let you gasp—and then shoved back in with a grunt that made your whole body flinch. Your lips were slick with spit and precum, chin dripping, hair tangled in his fist like reins.
“I could fuck your throat for hours,” he growled, voice wrecked. “Could keep you down there all night if I wanted. You’ll take it and you’ll learn. Your little boyfriend won't recognise you when I’m done.”
He gave one last brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt, and you let out a broken, strangled sob.
He held you there. Trembling, gagging.
Then finally—finally—he pulled out.
You collapsed onto your hands, coughing and choking, spit dripping from your mouth to the sheets.
But it wasn’t over.
It was never going to be over.
Because now he was grabbing your waist, flipping you onto your stomach like a ragdoll, dragging you to the edge of the bed.
“Bucky—please, I can’t—”
“You will.”
He yanked your hips up, spread your legs.
You weren’t even sure when he’d fully undressed you—but now your ass was bare, your thighs trembling, your cunt wet and swollen and exposed to the cold air. You tried to twist away. His hand came down hard on your ass.
SMACK.
You cried out.
“I said,” he gritted, lining the thick head of his cock up to your entrance, “you’re mine.”
He pushed.
Your breath caught. You felt the pressure first—terrifying, splitting pressure—then the pain. Stretching.
Too much.
“It’s not gonna fit,” you sobbed, voice high, panicked. “Bucky—it’s too big—”
He grabbed your jaw, forcing your head back toward him.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered, eyes burning. “I’ll make it fit just fine.”
And then he slammed into you.
You screamed.
The force of it knocked the air from your lungs. The burn was unbearable, your walls stretched to accommodate him and failed. Every inch of him was violent, forcing you wider, deeper than you’d ever been taken before.
“Fuck,” Bucky groaned, hips grinding against your ass. “So tight. So fucking tight.”
You were crying again, face pressed into the sheets, hands clutching the blanket like it might save you, stop the way your body was being pulled apart from the inside.
But he didn’t slow down.
He fucked you with brutal thrusts, each one harder than the last. You sobbed into the pillow. Your thighs shook. But his grip only tightened. One hand on your hip, the other on the back of your neck, pinning you down like prey.
“You like this,” he hissed. “Your cunt’s gripping me like a fucking vice.”
You hated him, fuck, you hated him. Most of all, you hated the way your body betrayed you.
Because somewhere in the pain, the burning, the shame—you started to moan.
And he heard it.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “I knew you could take it. Knew you’d fucking love it once I broke you in.”
His pace turned punishing, skin slapping skin. Sweat beading down his temple as he fucked into you with mindless need.
You felt it—your climax, that horrible, traitorous heat building between your legs again. You tried to resist it, bite it back, choke it down.
But it came anyway.
You clenched around him, spasming, crying out as your body convulsed on his cock, the pleasure so sharp it almost felt like pain.
“Oh, baby,” Bucky moaned, voice raw. “You wanna cum for me again?”
You were sobbing. “Please, no more—”
But then he bent low, lips against your ear, and whispered,
“I’m gonna cum inside you.”
You stiffened.
“No—Bucky—don’t—please—”
“I’m gonna fill this perfect little pussy up,” he gritted, driving into you even harder. “Stuff you full. You want it, don’t you?”
“No—”
“Say it.”
You shook your head.
“Fucking say it.”
His hand gripped your throat.
And in the weakest, most broken voice you’d ever heard from yourself, you whispered,
“…fill me up. Please.”
He groaned, deep and ragged, and came with a violent thrust that made your legs buckle. Hot, pulsing ropes filled you as his body trembled over yours, cock twitching, breath ragged, forehead pressed to your back.
“You’re mine now,” he murmured, voice low and content. “Every inch of you. Every hole. Every fucking drop.”
You didn’t move. Couldn’t move.
He stayed inside you. Stayed buried deep. And when he finally pulled out, thick warmth spilled down your thighs and soaked the sheets.
You didn’t move for a long time. You couldn’t.
Your body was frozen in the wreckage—legs parted, cunt throbbing, slick dripping down your inner thighs and soaking into the sheets beneath you. The air clung to your skin like sweat and salt, thick with the scent of sex and sweat.
Your limbs shook, your spine refused to obey. Nerves shot and frayed, lungs still working to remember how to breathe. Everything ached, your jaw, your throat, your pussy. Even your ribs, stretched from sobbing, from screaming.
Because it wasn’t over. You knew that even before you heard it. Before the mattress dipped under his weight. Before you felt his fingers brush your cheek with that awful, twisted tenderness that made your stomach roll like bile.
Not rough this time. Not greedy. Just… soft. Gentle.
That was worse.
“Shh, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, voice low again. Quiet. Almost sweet. Almost like he cared. Like he hadn’t just ripped you in half and made you beg for it.
“You did so good for me.”
You flinched.
He only hummed, casual and pleased, and leaned closer—mouth warm against your skin as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips, like he had the right. Like it was his. Like he hadn’t just stolen it from you.
You jerked your head away. Disgust pulsed through you like electricity. But it didn’t matter.
His hand followed.
Fingers curled around your jaw, firm but not cruel. Not now. He guided your face back to his with the ease of a man who’d done it before—who planned to do it again.
His thumb dragged across your tear-streaked cheek, slow and soothing, like he was calming a frightened pet.
“I know you’re scared,” he whispered, lips ghosting against your temple now. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be. Not anymore.”
You tried to speak. You didn’t even know what you would’ve said..
“I’ve got you now.” Another kiss, this time to your hairline. Gentle. Sickening. “No one’s ever gonna touch you again. Not him. Not anyone.”
He laid down behind you, chest pressing to your spine, his arm draping possessively over your middle.
You felt his cock, still half-hard, still sticky from the mess he left inside you, settle against your ass. His breathing slowed as he sank into the warmth of your body like he was slipping into a dream.
Like this was home. Like this was what he’d earned.
“I should’ve done this sooner,” he murmured, voice thick with something you didn’t want to name. “All that time I wasted… trying to be gentle. Trying to wait.”
His hand slid lower, fingers brushing over the curve of your stomach, dipping toward where your thighs were still wet.
You tensed instinctively.
“I didn’t want to scare you,” he continued, far too calm for someone who had just broken you. “Didn’t want to hurt you.”
His fingers moved slower now, tracing the edge of your hip like he was thinking. Calculating.
“But you like it, don’t you, baby?”
You sobbed softly, silently. Pillow soaked. Every breath a betrayal, every second a reminder that you were still here. Still under him. Still his.
“That little pussy of yours didn’t lie,” he chuckled darkly, “Gripped my cock like you fucking needed it.”
You turned your face away again.
He followed.
Kissed the slope of your shoulder. Your neck. Breathed you in like you were something sacred, something his, something he owned now.
“Your boyfriend would’ve never given you that,” he murmured. “Would’ve never taken care of you the way I will.”
He rolled your limp body further into his. One leg slung over yours, pinning you completely. Caged. Trapped.
His hand twisted into your hair and tugged gently, like he wanted you to listen, like you hadn’t already heard too much.
“You don’t need to ask permission anymore,” he whispered, breath hot against your skin. “You don’t have to say no. You’re mine now and I take what’s mine.”
You shook your head. Weakly. Broken. “Please… don’t…”
He smiled. You felt it against your skin, warm and cruel.
“I’m going to keep you, you know.”
Your stomach turned.
“You won’t have to pretend anymore. No more dates. No more makeup. No more tight little dresses for other men.” His voice dropped, words curling into your ear like a threat. “You only dress like that for me now.”
You cried harder. He didn’t care.
His fingers drifted lower again, between your thighs. Slid through the slick mess still leaking from you. The mess he put there. The mess he made.
“God,” he groaned, almost reverent. “You’re so full, look at this. Look what I did to you.”
You tried to close your legs. He didn’t let you.
“I’ll fuck it into you again in the morning,” he whispered, voice already thick with sleep. “Until you can’t remember his name.”
You froze.
He kissed your shoulder one last time. Lingering. Possessive.
And then he closed his eyes.
Like this was love. Like this was normal. Like this was only the beginning.
And he had no intention of ever letting you go.
a/n: this fic was a blast to write, it probably includes everything from my wildest imagination. i hope you enjoyed it and if you did, please leave a comment or a reblog, it helps motivate me! 🥰
