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your-highnessmarvel · 4 years

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I’m Right Here

Anonymous: Hey! I dont know if you are taking prompts, but Im craving your fics haha if you could write bucky x reader where they are together for some time and everyone tells her to be careful with him, that he can hurt her. and one night they are having sex and he is rough with her, but she ust take his head and hug him tight and he just melt and start to cry? Thank you and have lovely day Queen

A/N: OMG I HAVEN’T WRITTEN IN SO LONG AND THIS IS SO LATE!

Warnings: smut, angst

*gif not mine

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MASTERLIST

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Dating Bucky was not a cool affair. When you’d both began to tell your friends about each other, on Bucky’s side, the responses were great. Steve and Tony couldn’t stop rambling about how good you were for him, and how much light you would bring in his life.

But on your end, your friends had been just a little too raw with their truths. Bucky was an ex-Soviet spy. He was brainwashed. Unpredictable. He had killed an unknown amount of people, some innocent. He’d been the reason for the Avengers’ falling out in 2016. He was just generally bad news.

One thing that kept coming up was his unpredictability to hurt you physically. That metal arm was just as much a deadly weapon of mass destruction as a nuclear weapon was.

You navigated the confines of your relationship with him cautiously. You’d both sat on the ratty old couch of your apartment and talked about his past, about the frigid and murderous machine he used to be. You talked about his memories; the false and the real ones, the ones that hurt and the ones that brought a smile to his face.

Testing the boundaries of your physicality with him, as he was as much scared of hurting you as your friends were. His strength was unpredictable to him also, hence why kissing and touching were very, very limited.

“My mind is still not my own,” he said once, taking you by surprise when he put both arms around you - that was previously forbidden.

You tested the limits of his mood; just how angry he could get, and just how happy he could be.

You tested his skin, both flesh and metal, and how much he reacted to your touch.

You climbed onto him to engage in any physical contact, because God forbid, he never initiated anything, content with just being in your presence. He never introduced anything new, too afraid of his reactions, of the reflexes ingrained into him by the Soviets. He was too afraid of his instincts, those chemically synthesized in him, those who could kill you with a snap of his fingers.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered once, when you were between his knees.

“I’m the one with my teeth near your testicles, and you’re afraid to hurt me?”

There were no more debates about oral sex after that.

But the matter still remained over his unpredictable aggression.

Sometimes, the smallest things could set him off. Loki’s presence close to you. Other men simply speaking to you. You pressing on his memories. Him being unable to keep you utterly safe from him.

His mind was not safe, and neither were his actions, but he did try. For you. And that is what he told you when you started to undress yourself and ask for him to have you.

“No.” It was dry, making your eyes water. Did he not want you in that way?

“What?”

He sighed, pressing his nose against your neck and inhaling. “It’s too dangerous.”

“We can try,” you implored, feeling your chest swell with yearning. “And if you can’t control yourself, we can stop.”

He breathed heavily against you. “I won’t be able to stop myself if - “

He trailed off, pulling away from you and watching you with those crystal blue eyes of his. Dark hair framed his face, the stubble on his jaw creating intricate shadows along his features.

“Okay,” he said, making you alight with immediate need. “We can try.”

You brought his mouth to yours, kissing him deeply, your tongue against his. A growing heat was tugging in your belly, spreading to your crotch.

He got up with you clutching around him, arms and legs. With his mouth still pressed to yours, he carried you to your bedroom, where he carefully lay you on your back on the mushness of your bed. He slowly began to undress you, his fingertips grazing your flesh, igniting you from inside out.

“You’re so warm,” he groaned, mostly to himself, as he removed the last of your clothing, admiring you in your entire glory. He’d seen parts of you before, but never completely, utterly naked. He’d even taken off your socks.

He stood before you at the edge of the bed, watching you with intent, burning eyes. You looked up, completely mesmerized, as he took off his t-shirt, exposing the part where his metal arm met the mangled flesh of his chest. The plates adjusted themselves, reflecting off the low lighting of the room. You raked your eyes along his bare chest, the incredible structure of him, like a glass God.

You followed his fingers with your eyes, still so silent, as he unbuckled his trousers and let them fall on the floor. Still, you watched, feeling your core throb, as he took off his boxers and released his cock.

“Bucky,” you breathed, trying to picture just how good he would make you feel, and just how good you would make him.

He went to his knees before you, folding your legs and spreading them. You gasped as the cold air washed across your exposed flesh. Bucky looked at your soaking folds and then into your eyes. “I’m doing this to you?” he asked lowly.

“Mhm.”

“Fuck.”

He gave you one long lick, making you whimper and struggle against the sheets. “God,” you breathed, clenching on hand in his dark locks.

“Oh no, I’m Bucky.”

You playfully slapped him on his forehead, before receiving another deep lick from his treacherous tongue. You bucked your hips against his mouth and he rewarded you by sucking lightly on your clit, caressing your entrance with his forefinger.

When you were withering on the bed, he plunged one finger into you and caressed your walls, listening to you moan his name. You came in his mouth in minutes, arching against the mattress, his name tumbling off your lips like a prayer.

He kissed up your thighs and belly and chest until he was settled between your legs, kissing your neck. Your skin still buzzed, pleasure making your pussy feel heavy. You knew your orgasm would facilitate you in taking him, but when you glanced between both your bodies and spotted his hard cock against your belly, you wondered. He was big, that you knew from taking it in your mouth before, but this was different. Your body buzzed in anticipation, in nervous anticipation.

He cradled your head between his hands, his eyes searching yours. He was filled with fear and you could feel it as you ran your hands up and down his back; his muscles tight and tensed beneath your digits.

“Just try,” you cooed, nuzzling your nose with his.

He kissed you tenderly. Electric bolts zapped across your skin. You moved against him, trying to coax him.

He slipped his hand gently under your thigh to bring your knee to your chest. His flesh fingers squeezed against your leg, and you could feel him poking at your entrance.

He pushed into you slowly, your mouth falling open as he gauged your reaction. Your hands curled against the back of his neck, pulling him down for a harsh kiss. He growled against your mouth, his metal hand wrapping against your bicep.

He thrust in and out of you, the pleasure scuttling along your skin, making you moan against his kisses. He rolled his hips, hitting a spot deep inside you that made you almost want to scream out in pleasure.

The hand around your bicep moved just as a strangled groan left Bucky’s lips. Cool metal digits wrapped slowly around the base of your throat. His thrusts became full and harsh, snapping your hips almost violently. Your body moved deeper into the bed as you clawed the flesh of his back, trying to hold on.

His shoulders cupped and he swore under his breath, metal fingers digging into the flesh of your neck.

“Bucky,” you whispered, nuzzling the side of his head.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and his fingers squeezed - squeezed so hard that the breath was cut from your lungs.

A wicked squeak came from your mouth, legs clenching around him, struggling against his vehement thrusts.

You clawed his fingers.

He stopped, breathless, retreating his hands as if your skin was a burning hot stove. His eyes widened, crisp blue tormented.

You gasped in a breath, immediately reaching for his head with your hands. You cradled him, staring at him with a small smile. “It’s okay,” you said, bringing his head down towards your chest.

Bucky was shaking.

All thoughts of lovemaking had evaporated as Bucky’s trembling intensified against your body. Sobs escaped his lips, wetting the skin of your breasts.

“I’m sorry,” he groaned.

“It’s okay,” you whispered back, playing with the soft strands of his hair. “It’s fine. We’ll try again.”

He wrapped his arms around your torso slowly, tentatively, almost as if not to startle you. You welcomed his warmth, the shuddering sobs leaving his mouth, the way he turned his face into your chest as if to hide.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “Tell me to leave. Tell me to never come back.”

“No.” It was your turn to be dry with him. “Never.”

Then you grabbed his jaw, turning his head until blue met your eyes. He looked at up, chin propped on your chest, brows pulled up. His eyes were glossy, cheeks wet, mouth red.

“I’m with you for better or worse,” you told him, searching his gaze. “I’ll be here for you and always will. We’re in this together.”

He slowly rose to his hands, hovering over you, still with that same air of careful calculation. His thumb braced against your cheekbone. You laced your hands into the cool metal fingers, bringing it beside your head. You rose your legs, wrapping them around his waist.

“Trust me,” you whispered.

His lips parted, and he bent down to kiss you, mouth pressing hard against yours. “Okay.”

He rocked his hips once, twice, thrice until he found the same rhythm as before. His metal fingers clenched around your flesh digits. A moan graced your lips, trapped under his mouth, and this time the rocking of his hips was more tenacious than violent.

“I’m right here,” you murmured, moaned, cried out with each of Bucky’s languid thrusts.

He mumbled your name like a mantra, caressing the side of your face with his flesh fingers, chasing the spot inside of you that made your back arch into him.

A tight knot built in your belly, stretching and pushing until your body was wound up tight like a rod. Bucky’s thrusts were getting sloppier as he neared his own climax, and as his pelvis kept a steady pressure on your clit, you came for a second time that night. He grasped your hip, keeping you anchored to the bed as he rode out your orgasm, spilling himself in you.

Your fingers were numb from holding on to him for so long, but as you drew your hands across the surface of his back, his head returned to your chest. This time, he wasn’t crying. This time, he was breathless and warm and buzzing against your flesh.

You smiled.

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