Sep 1, 2022
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💡Ho, ho, ho Headcanon - How do Painted Windows Bucky and reader get ready for and celebrate Christmas?💡
You focus on pushing the thing string through the little kernels
You remember seeing it in movies, popcorn strung up for the holidays
Baked oranges on the tree
Still, there was nothing you could do to make this Christmas truly happy
Sometimes if you thought hard enough, you remembered what the holidays were like with your family
More and more memories each day
Hidden smiles only for you
Bucky looks up from the music box he fumbles with
The tiny dancer that twirls upon her toe when it opens
He brought it home as a gift but the music didn’t work so he was working on the mechanism
His metal fingers oddly gentle though they never were with you
“How’s it going over there, sugar?” he asks as the bowl of popcorn wobbles in your lap
“Alright,” you answer smally and catch the dish before it can spill
He replaces the bottom of the box and snaps shut the lid
He walks on his knees towards you and opens it up
The plucky music begins to rise from the box
The dancer wobbly as she spins
“Fixed it,” he says as he holds it out
You put aside the string and the bowl and take it from him
You remember this little piano you had as a child, when you opened the top it played fur elise
You watch the little ballerina as he moves between your legs, hands framing your hips as your skirt slips higher
“Well?” he tilts his head up
You set the box down beside you and the lid falls closed
Fingertips crawl up your side and you bend to kiss his lips
You know what he wants, what he expects, you play the part
You pretend you’re one of the actresses you watch on the screen
Dancing and singing to choreography, careful not to step on your partner’s toes
He kisses you back and pull you down onto his lap
You squeak and part from him in surprise
His hands stretch over your ass and he rocks you against him
“I like this dress,” he dips his head to nuzzle the frilly sleeve
He’s the one who chose it that morning, your personal stylist
“Steve’ll be here soon,” he hums as his lips tickle your collarbone, “we should get some time in for just us, hm?”
“Mhmm,” you murmur as he falls back, keeping you with him as he lays flat and his thick hair fans out around his head
“He’s bringing some friends, too,” he pushes up the hem of your skirt, eyes peeking beneath, “about time you met them.”
“Friends?” you wonder as he slips his thumb against your clit and you gasp
“You know the rules,” he rubs you and coos, “are you gonna be good for me, sugar?”
dog waiting outside market - SF, CA
No this isn’t Notre Dame but it’s close. Words cannot describe the beauty that lies inside this 19th century Neo-Gothic cathedral. Now my mom had been talking about this big old building and wanting to visit for quite some time. We decided to make it one of our destinations on this Sunday family excursion. Breathtaking up close, it’s definitely one of those places you have to take a trip uptown and see in person. Caution: Please try and avoid the grumpy near-balding usher at the front…not worth the drama 😂 Trip to Saint John the Divine Cathedral in Morningside Heights. 4.2.17
Painted Windows 18/End
Masterlist
Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse, noncon, isolation, torture, suicide attempts and thoughts, further tags to be added.
This is dark!Bucky and a side of Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Standing still isn’t being trapped.
Note: So I finished this series. I’m sad to say goodbye to our Dora and all that I’ve put her through, but I hope you guys enjoyed the ride.
<3 Thank you. Love you guys!
Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3 Let me know your thoughts.
Goosebumps spread over your body as the blanket shifted. The large hand slipped beneath the duvet and tickled along your spine. You giggled as the thick fingers squeezed your hip and turned you on to your side. Hot breath brushed around your neck, encasing you as Bucky did the same.
He lifted your leg and pushed it back over his. Gentle, softly, he felt around blindly and grumbled into your hair. He entered you easily. You were always ready for him, always open to him. He inhaled as he impaled you completely and basked in the sensations that had him breathless. His arm swept up your front and his metal hand cupped your chest.
“Morning, Sugar,” his voice gristled as he began to rock, your body moved easily with his.
“Morning,” you rasped as your breath hitched. You arched your back and leaned into his motion. Your body moved with his long, even thrusts.
“Love you, sugar,” he purred and nibbled the back of your ear. “You love me.”
You bit your lip and blinked. You stared at the wall as you grasped the corner of the pillow. His other hand slipped beneath you and he began to play with your clit. The cloying coil began to wind. You nodded desperately as you watched the tinted window.
“Yes,” you quivered as you watched a dove land just outside on the slant of the roof. “I love you, Bucky.”
“Mmm, sugar,” he purred as he kept on, using you without protest.
You felt the steady incline of your climax. You floated higher and higher as air filled your chest and made your dizzy. Tendrils stretched along your thighs and your skin buzzed. The tears wobbled at the corners of your eyes and you exclaimed as you came. You closed your eyes to hold back the deluge.
The door opened again and the flickering bulb lit up. The bars made that horrible clatter as they were pushed inward. You crossed your arms and bit the heel of your hand. You knew what was coming. It was the same every time.
Steve’s hand would grab your shoulder and he’d force you onto your back. You’d given up trying to keep your legs closed, instead splaying for his wants. The sooner he began, the sooner it was over.
But it wasn’t the warm grip of your fallen saviour, it was the cold metal touch of your warden. You clenched your jaw and wove your fingers together as if to pray. Your body shook in fear. He hadn’t entered the cell at all since your arrival; he just watched and gave his orders. Taunted you and reproached you for your wrongs.
You let him push you flat but kept your eyes averted. You looked at the stone ceiling, that same dip in the mortar you knew so well. His fingers went to your chin and he bent so that his nose wasn’t far from your own.
“Look at me, sugar,” he growled. You whimpered and obeyed. His blue eyes were frightening as they glowed even his shadow. “Do you know how long you’ve been down here?”
You frowned. You didn’t understand his question. How long? What did it matter? It didn’t make a difference to you. You shook your head as much as you could and his hand fell to your throat. He traced the line of it. You clung to the edge of the cot as you tried to brace for what came next.
“Do you want to go?” He asked.
Your eyes rounded and welled. This was some sick game to him. You shook your head again.
“I belong down here,” you croaked and grabbed his wrist. You stretched your hands across his and pushed it firm against your throat. “Please…”
He stared at your hand on his. At the subtle plea for the end. He tilted his head and drew away. His hands went to his hips and he paced the tight space. The scar on your thigh grazed the other and you felt the stark outline of the five points. He spun back to you.
“Move over,” he neared again and pointed to the end of the cot.
You sat up, stiffly. Your muscles were cramped from inactivity and your repeated use. You huddled in the corner as Bucky sat at the foot of the mattress. You smelled of sweat and the filth of your neglect. You were just an animal in a cage.
Bucky tilted into you over and over. His groans crowded in your ears and you turned your face to the pillow. Your walls clenched around him as he continued to play with your bud. You were soon whining and writhing again, pushing against him as your thighs spasmed. You panted and puffed wildly.
His arm lowered to your waist and he turned on to to his back, taking you with him. He stayed inside of you and dug his heels into the mattress as he kept his rhythm. He pressed his hand to your cunt, spreading his fingers around his dick as he fucked you. The heel of his hand rested on your clit and you moaned helplessly.
His heavy breaths dampened your scalp as he inhaled your scent and you felt him getting close. He brought himself to his base and relented only to do it again. Several long strokes as his voice stormed and stuttered. His arm tensed around you and then, at once, you felt every muscle in his body slacken.
He stilled you a top him. You laid limp and languid as you stared at the ceiling. His heart hammered against your back. Your own raced but the adrenaline did little but dull your nerves further. You came down quickly and waited. You didn’t dare move away from him, even as he went soft inside of you and fell out.
“So, sugar, what are we doing today?” He asked.
“You remember the room?” He said carefully. You nodded and trembled. “You remember… you were happy there?” He looked at you and his jaw twitched.
You lowered your eyes. Happy? You smiled but it wasn’t a real smile. It was bitter and sad. You did remember. You had started to remember.
The woman in the front seat, the young girl in the field of flowers. Your mother, your sister… You’d been walking home to see them when you were taken. Your phone bounced on the pavement as you fought with the man but the trunk shut out the world and then the cell, then the pain, and the years of darkness.
Then Bucky.
You swallowed your tears and raised your eyes to meet his. Your mother was out there, free, and your sister too. Maybe without you but you imagined they were safe. That made you happy. They wouldn’t want you to give in, they’d want you to survive, even if it meant suffering.
“Very,” you lied and leaned against the wall. “Were you… happy?”
“Yeah, I… we can be happy again, sugar,” he said softly as he reached out to touch your ankle. “You know we can.”
“I know.” You whispered. “I want to be…”
Silence. You sat and pressed your palms to your cheeks. They burned even as the rest of your body was frigid and fragile. He was waiting. He had been waiting; days, weeks, months, who knew?
“I’m…” your voice drifted off and you cleared the lump from your throat. You pushed away from the wall and moved closer to him, cautious as he watched you. His brows twitched as you did. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” He repeated.
“I, uh,” you rubbed your hands together. Your entire body was a pit collapsing in on itself. “I don’t love Steve. I didn’t, ever. I didn’t know what I felt…” you reached to him, past his metal hand and took his real one, “I didn’t know what to feel even though you told me. I didn’t want to listen because I was scared.”
He gave a pained expression and watched your hand. He squeezed it then brushed you away. He slumped back against the wall and sighed. “How can I believe you, sugar?”
You watched him. He looked dully at the other wall and your lips parted then closed. You had to show him. You had to make him realise you couldn’t stay down here. If you did, you’d be lost; to him, to yourself.
You stood and stepped between his legs. You bent and kissed him, a hand on his shoulder. He was still at first but slowly, he responded. He let your tongue past as your hand crept down his stomach and you clutched his belt. He rumbled and grabbed your wrist. You pulled back to look him in the face.
“Sugar?” He said.
“I love you,” your voice was detached, distant. “Please, let me show you…”
“I love you, too,” he grabbed the back of your neck and crushed his lips against yours.
“What do you mean?” You asked Bucky as his hands ran up and down your body, chest, stomach, thigh; back and forth but you felt nothing.
“You’ve been so good.” He hummed. “Should we go for a walk? Or watch a movie?”
You blinked and put your hands on his, twining your fingers in his to still his touch.
“A walk?” The word was brittle, barely spoken.
“I think you’re ready, sugar,” he rolled you down onto the mattress. “Do you think you’re ready?”
You sat up and squirmed as his cum leaked from you. It was uncomfortable but familiar. You had learned well to bear it.
“I…” You took a breath.
“It’ll be winter again soon.” He said. “Once it snows, we won’t be able to go out.”
You lowered your lashes. You thought of how you’d run from Steve, with Steve. Both times you ended up back there in that room. That was over. You weren’t that girl. You weren’t lost anymore.
“I think I am.” You smiled; that same sore smile. Fake. Fraught. Forced.
“Good,” he turned his back to you and stood. His strength was corded through every inch of his figure; a contrast to your lack of. “There is one thing.”
He went to his jacket, hung over the back of a chair. He dug around in the pocket. As he turned back, you noticed he wasn’t as soft as before. He had an odd looking cuff; it matched the dark metal of his arm, the same gold ripples along the edges.
“Give me your hand,” he said as he planted a knee on the mattress.
You crawled to him and held your arm out dully. Just another bar on your invisible cell. He clasped the cuff around your wrist; it was snug, so much so it didn’t move; perfectly fit. You would not be able to slip it off over your fingers, even if you cut them off.
“In case you get lost,” he said. “Better safe…” he paused and cradled your face, “than sorry.”
You nodded and looked at it as if it was a shining diamond. “It’s pretty.” You said.
“Like you, sugar.” He squared his shoulders and turned away. “Let’s get cleaned up,” his voice was strained as he neared the bathroom. He peeked back over his shoulder. “You coming?”
“Y-yes,” you stood and nearly tripped. “I’m good. I’ll be good.” You flitted over to him. “Am I good?”
“Am I good?” You puffed as you worked against Bucky, pushing his shoulders to the wall. “Am I good?”
You repeated the question over and over as your breath hurried in time with your breath. You were frantic. You needed out. You needed him to believe you. You needed him to say…
“Yes, you’re good. So good,” he held your hips and guided you. “You’re good, sugar. So sweet…”
He threw his head back and gritted his teeth. You bent and kissed him as you kept your pelvis moving. You gripped his head between your hands and molded his body to yours. Make him believe. Make him believe you were god. You were his sugar. You were Dora.
He would never know the truth. Ever. He’d never know your name. That was yours. Your name… you remembered it. You remembered! You remembered who you were! And you would never be his.
Make him believe. The words echoed in your head as you watched the water trickle down his chest. He leaned his head back into the stream and the errant drops bounced off your skin. You reached and dragged your hands down his torso. You stepped closer as he looked at you and drew you to him.
“Can we go to the river?” You asked.
“Wherever you want, sugar,” he held you to him. “Remember what I said.”
“I remember,” you swayed with him, “Stay close…”
“Mmhmm,” he felt along your back, “If you follow the rules, we’ll go again tomorrow.”
You smiled. This time not for him, but for you. You thought of the sunshine and the smell of grass and dirt. You thought of the last days of autumn and the falling leaves. You thought of the highway and the cars passing by. You retraced the road Steve had taken into the city.
Be good and one day, he’d believe you were.
One day...
...
END
Painted Windows 17
Masterlist
Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse, noncon, isolation, torture, suicide attempts and thoughts, further tags to be added.
This is dark!Bucky and a side of Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Freedom is a relevant concept.
Note: Well...
<3 Thank you. Love you guys!
Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3 Let me know your thoughts.
As you neared the city, you felt your heart bloom. You watched the pedestrians, the buildings, the other cars. It was as if it was the first time you’d ever seen civilization in practice. Joggers, couples walking their dogs, others in suits with their urgent steps, and the slovenly in hoodies and frayed jackets. It was all surreal. So distant and so close. Just on the other side of that window.
“Where are we going?” You asked suddenly. “Your place? Can’t Bucky find us there?”
“No, not my place,” Steve said flatly. “Just… trust me.”
“Shouldn’t we go far away?” You fidgeted, restless as reality set in. You were on the run from the most dangerous man you’d ever known. “Hide, somewhere.”
“I know a place,” Steve assured you as he looked out across the traffic. “Dor, it’s alright now.”
You tapped your fingertips along your bottom lip. You stared out the window. The sky dulled as the afternoon wore out. It would be dark soon. The night would make the city more sinister. Already, the romantic glow began to fade. You noticed the steaming sewers and the litter on the curb.
“Steve,” you whispered as he turned a corner.
He didn’t say anything, even as you called his name a second time. You squeezed the bag still in your lap and felt a hard shape inside. You loosened the drawstring and pulled out the notebook. Your journal. He reached over and pushed it down until it was flush against the rucksack.
“Dora,” he turned into an alley, barely clearing the reeking dumpster.
“Wait,” the breath went out of you. You glanced up at the boxy concrete buildings. The shadows were familiar, the way the wind tunnel between the walls. “You…”
“Put it away, Dor,” he said.
He stopped at the dead end of the alley and the engine settled and stopped. He sighed and grabbed the notebook from you. Then he snatched the bag and tossed it in the backseat, the journal pressed to the wheel.
“Please, don’t do this. Not again.” You begged as you grabbed the handle and the doors clicked. “You can’t. You were supposed to save me.”
“Save you?” He shook his head and snorted. He opened his door and heaved himself out of his seat, slamming the metal shut behind him. He rounded to your side and pulled open your door. “Get out.”
“No,” you said, “No. No, you can’t make me.”
“Dor,” he growled and placed the notebook atop the car roof, “Come on!”
He bent over you as you flailed out at him and screamed. “Help! Help! Somebody--”
He clamped his hand over your mouth and unbuckled your seatbelt with his other hand. He grabbed the back of your neck and jolted you out onto your feet. You grunted and tried to stomp his toes as he thrust you ahead of him. He looped his thick arm around your neck and squeezed.
“Walk,” he ordered as his bicep threatened to crush your throat. “Now.” He scooped up the notebook and kicked the car door shut. He pushed you along the alley and turned you at a metal door. “Open it.” He snarled.
“Steve, Steve,” you kicked out against the door and tried to shove him back with all your weight. “Let me go! I’ll die down there! You don’t understand, I can’t-- Not again, not again.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he tightened his arm around you, “But don’t think I won’t.”
He pushed down the handle with your journal and hooked a finger through it and forced the door open. He pushed you inside as you continued to lash out. You knew these walls, knew the dimpled concrete and the dark stains. You knew the stagnant smell and the tepid air that grew cooler as you neared the top of the stairs.
“How did you know?” You gasped as he kicked open the heavy door at the top of the steps. “How--”
“Don’t make me throw you down. It’ll hurt but you’ll survive.” He wrenched you off your feet and you clawed at the narrow walls as he pressed onward.
Not much had changed since your time there. That round table where they sat, smoked, gambled, and plotted remained. The chairs were broken and bullet casings were scattered on the floor, their scars marked the walls. He took you to that hallway, that long hallway, and you cried out again.
“It’s best for you, Dora.” He said, “You gave us no choice.”
You twisted and writhed. He dropped the journal and nearly lost his grip on you and snaked his arm around your waist. He walked backwards as he dragged you along the stone.
As you reached that door, you dug your nails into his hand but he didn’t even flinch. He flung you inside and pulled closed the bars. You threw yourself against them, the mechanism held. You looked down at it and hit it with your fist. It had been fixed. You gripped the bars and shook them.
“Steve!”
“Steve,” another voice echoed you evenly.
Bucky came up next to Steve, the duffel slung over his shoulder and your notebook in hand. He slapped the cover and shook his hand as he neared. His jaw twitched and squared as he clenched. His blue eyes pierced you.
“Bucky… Bucky, please,” you reached out, “Why? Don’t leave me here. Please, you can’t--”
“You said it yourself, sugar,” he looked down as he fluttered through the pages. He looked to Steve and nodded. “I have to break you.”
Steve swung the heavy outer door and it clanged into place. The small cell blackened entirely. You barely withdrew your hand before it was crushed. You staggered back and pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could you think that you could ever be saved? That anyone could ever love you?
The cot was still there. You didn’t lay on it though. You couldn’t. You just sat on the floor and waited. For what… for the same torture that always came down there. You didn’t cry. At times, you felt as if you would, but the tears didn’t come. You sat, numb yet terrified. It was a grim sort of acceptance because you thought you’d come to terms with it years ago.
You woke from bouts of shallow sleep against the wall. Your back was stiff and tight. You had no way to count the hours. Time didn’t exist down there. It never had.
The door opened once. You didn’t look as a bottle of water was slipped between the bars and some pre-packaged bullshit. You drank the water but ignored the food.
Waiting, waiting, waiting…
Dreading, dreading, dreading…
When the door shifted a second time, you stayed as you had been. Keys jingled and the hinges whined. The sealed container was kicked aside and the bars were jolted back into place. You tried to ignore the figure as the light flickered on. Another shadow loomed in the hall, looking in at the other.
“Get her up.” Bucky ordered. “Strip her.”
“No!” You slapped away Steve’s hand as he reached for you. “No!”
He batted you back and grabbed your arms. He jerked you to your feet. He pulled at the top of your jacket until the zipper split and clawed at his arms. He ignored your struggles, barely flinching as he tore the hem of your shirt up. He struggled as you latched onto the tee but he ripped it away with a hard yank.
He spun you and threw you so that you fell against the cot. Before you could turn around, he gripped the top of your jeans and pulled them down, taking your panties with them. He struggled with your shoes and bunched them up in the denim with your socks. He passed each piece of your clothing through the bars as you curled up on the cot as you tried to cover yourself.
“You like Steve?” Bucky asked. “He told me you said you love him.” He snickered darkly then hit the bars hard. “You’re supposed to love me!”
You quivered and stared at your knuckles, your arms wrapped around your knees. “I hate you. Both of you.”
“Oh? You hate him now?” Bucky challenged. “Steve, go on.”
Steve approached the cot again. You cowered and bent your head as you sat with your knees bent and hugged your legs close. He grabbed your wrist and twisted it back until you cried out.
“Steve, please,” you pleaded, “Please. Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt your Dora.”
“Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” he uttered as he took your other wrist.
“Don’t talk to her,” Bucky snapped. “You know what to do.”
You cried out as you wrestled with Steve. He held your wrists apart and forced you down onto your back. You kept your legs bent as he climbed onto the cot, his knees on the thin mattress. He let go of your arms and pulled on your knees. He was overwhelmingly strong. He parted your legs as your muscles strained and screamed against his strength.
You flung your arms out as he moved between your legs. He unbuttoned his fly and you kicked around him. You shook your head and pushed on his thighs. He bent over you, his thick arm across your chest and you peered up into his eyes desperately.
‘Please,’ you mouthed to him.
His blue eyes didn’t waver as he stared down at you. He prodded your entrance and you winced as he entered you in a single motion. His hot breath tickled you and you closed your eyes as he thrust atop you. Your fingers curled into his shoulders and you grasped at the cotton of his shirt.
He grabbed your chin as you tried to turn your head. He pressed his lips to yours and groaned. You choked on a whimper. You wouldn’t let him hear your pain.
“What’s the matter, sugar?” Bucky taunted from the hallway, “I thought you loved him.”
You opened your mouth and quickly bit down on Steve’s lip. He pulled away and grunted. “The fuck?” He touched his bloody mouth, “She bit me.”
“Give it to her harder,” Bucky growled.
Steve muttered and snapped his hips up into yours. The teeth of his zipper hit your tender flesh and rubbed coarsely against your folds. You hissed but held in the cries that threatened to overflow. He crushed you beneath his weight as the scent of his sweat seeped into your nostrils. His head fell down beside yours as he began to pant.
“In her mouth,” Bucky demanded, “Like they did.” He inhaled, “Isn’t that right, sugar?”
You covered your face and Steve sat back. He shuddered and pulled out of you. The cot moved as he stood and he came up along the side. He wrenched your hand from your face and stroked himself over you. His fingers slid down to your jaw and he pushed his thumb against your lips until you opened your mouth.
He held your mouth open as he slipped his tip just past your lips. He finished himself with a long groan and hot ribbons covered your tongue and trickled down your throat. He released you and swore as he backed away.
He stretched his neck as he sighed and fixed his pants, zipping them up as he approached the bars. You spat his cum onto the floor and coughed as you wiped your lips. You felt like puking but you merely turned your face down and hid.
“Oh, sugar, you can end this,” Bucky said as he unlocked the door. You listened as Steve stepped out into the hall, “I only ever wanted to give you what you need. I still do, sugar. You just have to ask.”
There was a pause. You didn’t move. Bucky tisked and the door closed loudly, then the other, the metal echoing against the concrete walls. You shivered as the light went out. Their footsteps faded away and you turned to face the wall.
You knew what Bucky wanted. How long before you gave it to him?
-----
I know that was a rough chapter, so please, take care of yourself and stay safe.
Painted Windows 16
Masterlist
Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse, noncon, isolation, torture, suicide attempts and thoughts, further tags to be added.
This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You come face to face with the soldier.
Note: We’re in the endgame now, haha, you get it. I know it’s been a while but here we go again. <3 Thank you. Love you guys!
Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3 Let me know thoughts, excitement, theories, anything.
Bucky didn’t return that day. Or the next.
After cleaning up your puke and trying to wash him away from your skin, you spent the hours face down on the bed. You could smell him on the sheets and taste him in your own tears. You could feel the violence of his touch still. The searing along the flesh of your thigh and the ache deep in your core. It was worse than any pain you’d known before; he wasn’t just another nameless man. He was a monster you couldn’t forget. Or escape.
When at last, you stopped sobbing, you succumbed to the pit deepening in your stomach. You ate unsalted crackers and the last of the grapes from the crisper. You opened your notebook, then closed it, opened it again, then tossed it against the wall with a shriek.
Why write about what happened when it had never ended?
Another day passed. You weren’t lonely, but you weren’t relieved either. It didn’t matter when Bucky came, you knew he would, and you knew what would happen.
You stared out the window. It was dark again. You could see the spring peeking out through the mud. The snow that lingered was dirty and melting. The stars twinkled in the sky beyond the stretching branches of the trees that swayed in the night breeze. But all you could do was look; you couldn’t smell the damp or hear the birds as they returned from their winter sojourn or feel the subtle bite of the dwindling winter. You were like an animal in a cage, at the mercy of others pleasure but not to have your own.
You flinched as you heard the door beep. You turned slowly as it opened and pressed yourself to the tinted glass, your fingers curled around the sill. Bucky shut the door behind him, another shadow in the gloom. The lights flicked on and he planted his hand above the switch as he watched you.
You stared back, dumbfounded. As much as you expected him, the visit was a surprise. As much you had prepared yourself for the inevitability, the dread drowned you and left you speechless and paralysed. As much as you’d been through, you couldn’t handle anymore.
He dropped his hand to his belt and the noise of the buckle made your skin crawl. He approached the bed slowly, letting his fly gape open as he pulled his shirt over his head. Hs bared his broad chest, that wall of muscle you couldn’t break through, and dropped his shirt without regard. He nodded to the bed.
“Go on.” He eyed the hem of your cotton night shirt. You changed once since he’d left you. You had no one to dress up for, so you dressed for bed. You hesitated as you blinked at the duvet. “Sugar…” he warned, “Don’t make this difficult.”
“Why?” Your voice crackled in the tension. He pushed his jeans down, his excitement was visible against his briefs.
“Don’t act like you had no part in this,” he pointed to the bed. “You’re so desperate to be a victim.”
Your heart hammered in your ears. You neared the bed and pressed your knee to the edge. His fingers lingered on the elastic of his briefs.
“Don’t be stupid.” He hissed. “Naked.”
You pressed your tongue to the roof of your mouth. Don’t cry. That’s what he wanted and you’d done enough of that. You lifted your shirt slowly and let it fall. You rolled your panties down and ignored his movement as he stripped off his briefs. You got onto the bed and laid on your back, waiting for him.
He laughed darkly and snapped his fingers. “Over here,” he beckoned you with his index finger, “On your knees, turn around.”
You bit down and crawled to him. You spun so your back was to him and his hands gripped your shoulders. He squeezed and let out a long breath. He shoved you so you fell forward on your hands. He slapped your ass and you held in your yelp. You hung your head as his fingers danced at the top of your thighs.
He poked at your folds and you quivered. The cold metal pressed to your warmth and he forced his fingers roughly past your entrance, burying them to the knuckle. You clamped your lips shut as he pushed in and out of you several times. He growled in frustration and retracted his hand, lashing your ass once more.
“What’s wrong?” He snarled as he stepped closer and grabbed your hips. “Fucking dry as fuck.”
You closed your eyes as he angled his dick along your entrance and pulled you further back. His tip pressed against your entrance and you opened around him painfully as he forced your legs wider apart. You whimpered and arched your back to ease the intrusion but it still hurt. When he impaled you entirely, he held you there and wiggled his hips.
You hissed as he pulled back and thrust into you as hard as he could. His fingers sank into your flesh as he slammed you into him. The clap of flesh was deafening as he kept a steady motion, working your body against his. You clawed at the blankets and choked on the moans that threatened to rise.
Your body responded, slowly, though it was just as agonizing. You huffed as he sped up. His left hand slid up your back and he gripped the back of your neck. He shoved your head down to the mattress and hammered into you. The bed shook with you and his groans swirled around you.
You slapped at the bed as he ignored your murmured pleas. You bared your teeth and grunted through the pain until he stopped. Until those last, long, stuttered, sharp thrusts left you breathless and weak. He pushed you off of him and your legs went lip as you fell prone across the mattress. His cum trickled down your thigh and he pinched your ass cruelly.
You kicked at him and he caught your ankle. He took your other leg and flipped you over harshly. He squeezed and his raw strength threatened to snap a bone. You stared at him defiantly and pushed yourself up to look him in the eye.
“Do it.” You sneered. “You’ll have to break me before I’ll ever want you.”
His eyes glimmered dangerously and he dropped your legs. He turned and stomped to the door, still naked, and keyed in the code. The door slammed and he left you in silence. You stared, expecting him to return shortly, but he didn’t.
You sat until you were certain he wouldn’t, though really, you could be sure. His cum cooled and turned sticky as the chill seeped into the flesh. He would be back but not soon. You’d have enough time to wash away his touch but not enough to prepare for his next visit.
You watched through the window as Bucky carried the long rifle bag and a duffle to his car. He didn’t tell you he was leaving. He didn’t talk at all anymore; not outside of giving you orders. A week maybe since he’d carved his star into your flesh. A week of solace interrupted only by his startling invasions.
Still you were nervous. The mission could last weeks but you never truly felt safe from him. From that mean streak he called “the soldier”. You shivered as he pulled away from the house and you watched his bumper grimly.
You kept your eyes out the window as you watched the yard. The patches of grass turning green, the sun shining brighter, the birds flitting around collecting twigs, the squirrels scurrying and scrounging. Spring had arrived and yet, nothing had changed. You were still a prisoner. Looking on at the world from the outside.
As your nose tingled and you felt like crying, you turned away. You ignored the television, you were done watching others live a life you’d never have. You sat at the table with the box of patterned paper and began to fold. A sparrow, a swan, a deer; your own little forest of animals.
You wiled away the morning with the creased creatures and as the afternoon beamed through the tinted glass, you sat up and stretched. You yawned as the sun shifted. You stood and walked around as your legs cramped. You froze as you heard the beep.
He was back already… that couldn’t be good.
You gulped and watched the door open as the pin pad flashed green. Your hands balled to fists but you were faced by a man you were wholly unprepared for. Steve’s brow wrinkled as he looked around the room. The signs of your isolation were clear. Clothes strewn in a pile, your notebook still overturned on the floor, a messy bed, and you; unkempt and confused.
“Dora,” he said carefully as he stepped inside.
“What are you doing here?” You clasped your hands together. “Where’s Bucky?”
“He’s… away. You didn’t know?” He asked.
“I watched him go but…” You glanced around. “You left me with him.”
“Dor, what could I… I shouldn’t have,” he came closer. He reached out and you cowered. He touched your cheek softly. “Look at you. I’m so sorry.”
“He’s your friend.” You drew away. “You can’t save me from him.”
“You asked why I was here,” he said, “Well, why do you think?”
You were too afraid to be hopeful but when you saw the way he looked at you, you couldn’t help the way your heart throbbed. You couldn’t help but think that he might just get you out.
“But… why would you do that?”
“Because he’s not the Bucky I knew. He’s not the Bucky I saved.” He sniffed. “He’s not the Bucky who can save Dora.”
You frowned and pressed your palms to your neck. “You’d really… save me?”
“I’m here. There’s no going back now.” He reached into his jacket pocket. He revealed the paper frog. “You asked for me to take you away, are you going to come with me?”
Your eyes blurred as tears rose. You couldn’t believe it. You just couldn’t but you had to. It was your only chance. Your only true chance. You couldn’t be afraid anymore. Fear had never done you any good.
“Yes, yes,” you said, “I will. Please--”
“Alright, then we better get going.” He interjected.
He went to the dresser and pulled open each drawer. He took out a shirt, jeans, socks, underwear. He handed them to you and searched for a bag to pack away a few more outfits. He turned to you as you crossed to the bathroom and he stopped you.
“Dora. Let me see your leg.” He said.
You looked down, embarrassed. You lifted the hem of your night shirt and turned your leg to reveal the blazing star mottled in your flesh. His face fell.
“Go, get dressed. Quickly.” He tightened the string on the rucksack and you hurried into the bathroom.
You changed clumsily. The sense of frequency has your pulse thrumming in your ears. As you came out, Steve dropped a pair of shoes before you and searched the closet for a jacket. He helped you pull it on and handed you the bag of clothes.
He grabbed your arm and swept you to the door. He nudged you ahead of him and you stopped dead in the frame. Your eyes rounded and you poked your head out as you peered down the hallway. You were leaving, really leaving.
“Steve,” you gasped, “I--”
“Dor, go,” he said, “We have to go. Now.”
You nodded and stepped out into the hall. Your entire body buzzed and you felt like laughing. It was much too soon for that. You went to the stairs and rushed down onto the landing, barely catching yourself on the railing at the bottom. Steve edged past you and opened the front door.
The song of birds and the whisper of the wind blew through. You placed one foot in front of the other and turned to Steve as you felt the soft sunlight on you. You stood on your toes and grabbed his shoulders. You kissed his lips and he let you. His hand on the small of your back as he parted and urged you through the door.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you bounced down the steps. “Oh, thank you!”
You followed him to the car and opened your side as he did the same on the other. You hugged the bag to you and sat in the seat. You buckled up as he turned the engine as you shook uncontrollably.
“Steve,” you smiled as he reversed and steered the car around the long gravel drive.
“Dor,” he said evenly as he drove towards the highway.
“I love you,” you sang, “I love you so much!”
He was quiet. He kept his hands on the wheel and stared out the windshield. His long golden lashes caught the sunlight as he stopped at the end of the dirt path and looked onto the black road ahead. He looked at you, his blue eyes warm as the wrinkle left his forehead.
“I love you too,” he echoed and tore his gaze from you. He let out a sigh and stepped on the gas, “Just stick with me, Dor, and you’ll be okay. I promise.”
Painted Windows 1
Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, further tags to be added.
This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are freed from your prison but for what, you don’t know.
Note: This is a story I’ve been planning for a while. It’ll be slow at first as we introduce our characters and I hope you guys enjoy it. I always appreciate you and thanks for all your patience. Thank you. Love you guys!
Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3
Painted windows there for me, painted windows so I can see
Gunshots came muffled from the other side of the concrete. Each bullet was punctuated by the heavy stomp of boots down the hallway. You listened, huddled between the dingy metal toilet and the rusted cot. There was chaos beyond and your cell was no longer a prison, but your only protection.
You hung your head over your crossed arms, your knees bent below as you trembled. It wasn’t unusual to hear the occasional discharge and the silence of whatever blood followed. This was different; deliberate, determined. Even so, the death of your keepers did not promise you your life. You knew that.
The footsteps got closer. The gunfire stopped and left a deathly lull in its wake. You could hear every breath that escaped you, the hypnotic pulse in your own veins. You raised your head as the boots stopped on the other side of the door. You waited, a lump in your throat. Your fate awaited you.
The handle clicked and you inhaled sharply. It didn’t budge. Slowly, steadily, the lever cracked as it was forced down and the handle was dislodged from its frame, leaving a gaping hole in the door. You flinched as the broken mechanism was tossed against the concrete.
The shadow pulled the door open. Its broad shoulders blocked the light behind it as it loomed before the bars. The silhouette was still. He watched you and poked the muzzle of his rifle between the iron. You stared at the barrel and closed your eyes as you waited for the bang!
It never came.
You opened your eyes. The nose of the rifle slipped from the door and tapped the concrete. The stranger considered you and exhaled slowly. He shook his head and glanced down the hall. His features were indiscernible as he never fully faced the light. He turned back to you and you felt the intensity of his gaze.
Was this a new monster? Your shoulders slumped further as you thought to beg him for your release. Not from this cell, only from this existence. A bullet was your only hope of freedom. To remain was an extension of your endless torture.
He touched his ear and took a step back.
“All clear.” His voice was deep; sonorous. It filled your chest and sank deep into your bones.
He gripped the edge of the door and closed it inch by inch, never looking away. You shook your head and pushed yourself forward onto your knees. You crawled to the bars as the metal was forced back into its frame. The clank left you numb and echoed in your ears.
You latched onto the bars as the darkness embraced you once more. You let out a brittle sob as his retreat faded down the hallway. Your eyes burned and you slipped down until your head was in your hands, concrete cold beneath you as you sprawled across it weekly.
Not like this. Anything but this.
You barely recalled dragging yourself up onto the cot. You were in a daze. You couldn’t sleep but floated in a trance. The icy chill that came with the acceptance of the inevitable. Death lived in this cell, it always had; your only companion. Since your first day in the concrete box, you’d known you would die here.
You wondered how long it would take. Days? Weeks? Would your desperation lead you to drink from the toilet? For what? To prolong the suffering which shrouded your existence? You didn’t even know how long you’d been here. You tried to count but the numbers blurred together in your torment. It didn’t matter.
You started counting again. How many minutes, hours, until it was over? Had it been forever? It felt like it. Before was a dream; distorted and far away. It was hard to believe there was anything but this place.
Then you heard it. The squeak of a sole on the concrete. You hadn’t heard the footsteps this time. You didn’t move and waited for them to pass you by. They didn’t. They stopped outside your cell and the shadow blotted out the line of light which seeped in below the door.
The hinges whispered as the door was pulled open. You raised your head to watch as the same figure stood in the frame. A hand in a leather glove latched onto the bar and slid down until it settled on the lock. The fingers squeezed and the metal crumpled like paper. The pieces tumbled to the floor as he let go.
The stranger pushed the door open with his boot but he didn’t come any closer. The bars clattered against the wall and you sat up. You shivered and he tilted his head as he considered you. You drew your knees up and back yourself into the corner. He might have killed your keepers, your enemies, but it did not mean he was any better.
He felt along the wall on the outside of the door and turned the switch. The light flickered on with a buzz and you flinched. It was only used during visits. When the men sought to sate themselves upon you. You cowered and shielded your eyes.
He examined the cell and hovered his foot over the threshold. He brought it down slowly as if breaking an unseen barrier. You pressed yourself to the wall and whimpered. He blinked at you and stopped at the end of your cot. You hugged your knees tight and looked to the pistol peeking out from beneath his jacket.
“Pl--” Your voice crackled. You only ever used it to scream and you quit that long ago. You shook your head and touched your throat. You wanted him to kill you but couldn’t even beg for it.
He stepped closer and your lip quivered fearfully. He bent and touched the end of the cot. Perhaps he knew what you were. Maybe he wanted to give you one last use before you were done with. His fingers closed around the threadbare blanket and he carefully lifted it from the cot. He rubbed the rough fabric against the leather of his gloves and let it hang before him.
“You can stand?” He asked. You frowned and gaped at him. You nodded stiffly. “Walk?” You nodded again. His jaw twitched and he swallowed. “Okay. So we should go.”
Your eyes widened and you shook your head.
“You want to stay?” He arched a brow.
You lowered your head. You cleared your throat. Your voice was like a blade in your throat. “Die.” You said. “I just want to… die.”
He was silent for a moment.
“Get up.”
“Why?” You asked and coughed as the words scratched.
“I can carry you out of here. Drag you.” He said tersely. “I’m certain that isn’t your preference.”
You let your arms drop and glanced up at him. He was stern and unyielding. He still held the blanket open. You unbent your legs and shimmied to the edge of the cot. His angular jaw and icy eyes were startling. You tore your eyes from him. As you stood, he swept the blanket around you like a cape.
“No shoes?” He asked. You shook your head. “It’s snowing out. You’ll need something.”
He turned quickly and disappeared out the door. You crept to the frame and peeked out. He bent over a body in a puddle of dark blood. He tore off its boots and stood. He returned to you and dropped them at your feet.
“Better than nothing.” He said.
You blanched at the stained leather as he watched you.
“Well…” He urged.
You pushed your feet into the boots and knelt to tie them. You straightened and caught the blanket before it could slip from your shoulders. He pulled it snug across your chest and nodded.
“It’s windy. Keep your head down and hold on tight to that.” He advised.
He grabbed your arm and guided you down the hallway. You struggled to keep up as you clomped along in the large boots. He turned corners sharply and as good as marched down the concrete. He didn’t relent as he pulled you up the stairs and you were out of breath when you got to the top.
He stopped before another door. He looked at you and grabbed the handle. He pushed it open and the wind whistled as white flakes swirled in the air. He dragged you out into the night, the air bitter as it nipped at your bare legs.
“Not far,” He whispered as he drew you down a dark alley. “Lay across the backseat and don’t move.”
You spent the ride beneath the blanket. It was easy enough to remain still. The man didn’t talk nor did he turn on the radio. You listened to the other cars and the winter winds. You shivered against the vinyl seat and peeked out at his shoulder as he steered. The street lights disappeared and only his head lights glowed amid the night.
The pavement turned to gravel beneath the tires and you listened to the crunch of snow and stones. Your hands were balled around the corners of the blanket. You didn’t realize how terrified you truly were. If this man had any intention to save you, he wouldn’t be spiriting you away.
The car stopped and he killed the engine. He got out and his door shut with a snap. He opened the back door and a gust blew in. He tugged on your ankle and you sat up. He beckoned you out with two fingers. You pushed yourself across the seat and stepped out as he loomed over you.
He closed the door and grabbed onto your arm again. It was almost completely dark as he pushed you through the deep snow towards the house limned in moonlight. You tripped as you climbed the steps and he kept you from falling entirely. He opened the screen door and the spring squeaked. He stirred around in his pocket for the key and unlocked the inner door.
He kicked the snow off his boots and you did the same. Inside, he let go of you and locked the door as swiftly as he closed it. He flipped a light on and you glanced around at the small entryway. A staircase faced the front door and a doorframe stood on either side of you. He shed his boots and you did the same.
“Are you hungry?” He asked. “Thirsty?”
You stared at him confused. In your cell, they served you once a day, sometimes not at all. Always the scraps of their own meals; chicken bones with fat hanging off and rotten potatoes. You shook your head as you thought of your usual fare.
“You sure?” He eyed you closely.
You shook your head again and covered your mouth as you yawned. You cleared your throat but only a wheeze came out when you tried to speak. They taught you silence; to speak often earned you a smack, if not worse.
“Tired.” He said as he unzipped his coat and hung it. “How about…” He began. “You get cleaned up and then you can lay down? We can worry about everything in the morning.”
“Everything?” You mouthed.
“If I tell you now, you won’t sleep,” He said. “Come on.”
He waved you up the stairs and followed you. He was only a step behind. You could feel his warmth. When you reached the top, he pointed to the last door on the right. You went to it and he reached around you to open it as you stared dumbly. You stepped inside and the light washed over the room as he hit the switch.
There was a large bed set against the wall, a plaid duvet over it, the pillowcases clothed in a matching shade of navy. Walnut nightstands and a matching dresser; a bookcase, an armchair, framed pictures of mountains and forests. A room not a cell.
You stared at the bed and spun around. Your breath quickened. A bed? Why? He caught you, his hands on your shoulders as you tried to push past him.
“The shower,” He said gently and gestured with his head to his right. A doorway led into a small room. “In there.”
You stopped and blinked at the open door. You pressed your lips together and slowly backed away from him. He released you as you hung your head. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
“I’ll find you something to wear.” He said. “There are clean towels in the cabinet just inside the door. Take your time.”
You nodded and turned away from him. You ambled to the bathroom door and looked back at him. He slid open the dresser drawer as his fingers tapped on the edge. You squinted and your stomach roiled.
If he meant well, why hadn’t he taken you to the police? Why had he stormed into that compound and killed those men? Why were you here? Why had he gone back to get you?
You turned away before he could sense your observation. You scurried into the bathroom and closed the door. You found a towel from the cabinet and cranked the faucet. You dropped the blanket and paused as you saw yourself in the mirror.
Was that really you? You didn’t remember this broken woman.
The dress you wore was shapeless and dirty. There were holes along the seam and near the collar. You looked worn and weary. Your eyes were hollow. You looked away as you pulled the dress over your head. You didn’t want to see it all; this strange body. This shell.
You stepped behind the curtain and closed your eyes as you stood beneath the torrent. Nothing could wash away the filth or ease the pain. The water could only distract you. Remind you of those fragmented memories. Allude to the before as you awaited the after, if that was to be.