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wintersoldiersoul · 7 months

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Brat

A/N: Literally have a flight to catch in 4 hours and this is how I'm spending my time. Also this was inspired by a video by The Stark Internship on TikTok! I love their account so much definitely check them out.

Summary: Bucky is fed up with your attitude

Warnings: Smut, Daddy kink, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), breeding kink

Everyone has days when they just wake up on the wrong side of the bed. Today was one of those for you. You hadn't slept well in a few nights and you were irritable and on edge. Your had tons of assignments due for work, and your boss was a nightmare. Everything was pissing you off today from the slow walkers on the street, to your shoelaces coming untied.

“Hey baby,” Bucky said, smiling and giving you a kiss when you walked through the door.

“Hi,” you deadpanned, slipping your bag off your shoulder and letting it fall to the ground.

His expression changed when he saw your mood. “Bad day?”

You nodded, strutting over to the kitchen to get the cold brew from the fridge. “Where’s the coffee?” You asked, unable to find it in the fridge.

“Oh I finished it this morning,” Bucky answered. “I was gonna grab some more tomorrow.”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Why didn’t you just get more when you finished it? Now I have to go back out.”

“Sorry baby, I didn’t think you’d need coffee at 5pm,” he said apologetically.

“Well I do because unfortunately for me, I haven’t slept all week because your body is like a fucking furnance and I have a killer headache that only caffeine can fix.”

“I’ll go out and get you a coffee, okay?” Bucky had seen you in these moods a lot. You got irritable whenever you were stressed or tired or hungry, which was a lot. “You go relax.”

“Thanks,” you answered, slumping over to the home office. You did some more work, trying to get ahead of what you had to do tomorrow.

“Here,” he said when he got back, placing a starbucks cup in front of you. “How can I help?”

“Just leave me alone,” you snapped. It came out harsher than you intended. “I’m sorry.”

But Bucky wasn’t offended. He just smirked at you. “That’s it,” he said sternly. “You have 30 minutes to get ready and then you and me? We’re going to dinner. And we’re gonna have a great time. And when we get back, I want you on the bed with your legs spread for me. And I’m gonna split you open on my cock and fuck that attitude right out of you, got it?” He commanded.

You swallowed harshly, already feeling your clit throbbing from his words. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he nodded his head and walked out of the room.

You decided to play into his game while at dinner, acting extra bratty to see just how riled up you could get him. The second you walked in the door, his eyes narrowed. “I’m giving you a two minute head start. By the time I get in there, you better be naked and touching that pretty pussy, okay? Go.”

You ran to the bedroom, completely submissive to him. You quickly discarded your clothing and laid on the bed moving a hand between your legs. You inserted two fingers inside of yourself, wetness pooling around your fingers. Bucky opened the door just as you were reaching your peak.

“Good girl,” he smirked. “No cumming though. Not yet sweetheart.” He crawled on the bed moving his face in between your legs watching as you played with yourself. “Bet those little fingers don’t feel as good as mine. You need my thick fingers stretching you out to really feel good.” He grabbed your wrist and made you remove your fingers from yourself. “Nothing to say? No sassy little remark to fire back at me? You’ll do whatever Daddy tells you, won’t you?” His eyes darkened as he spoke.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good,” he said, running flesh fingers through your folds. “Such a perfect cunt,” he grunted as he inserted a finger, curling it slowly to torture you. “Too bad you’ve been a brat today.” He swiftly removed his finger and licked it clean. “Get on your knees. Now,” he commanded while undoing his belt and taking down his pants. Your mouth watered at the wet spot on his boxers where his tip was leaking. You reached out to take his underwear off but he shoved your hands away. “No no no, baby girl. You wait for Daddy to tell you what to do.” He smacked your ass hard and you moaned.

“Daddy please!!” You begged like a child. “Wanna suck you.”

Bucky laughed darkly. “You need that slutty mouth filled? You want Daddy’s cock to choke on? Wan’ me to fuck your face real hard, don’t you?” You squeezed your legs together at his words, desperate for something.

“Mhm, want it so badly. Wanna run my tongue over the slit and wrap my lips around your thick cock. Want you to stretch out my mouth.”

He inhaled sharply at your words. Bucky was dominant in bed, but he was so in awe of you that sometimes he just had to give in. “Oh fuck, Princess, the shit you say.” He slowly dragged his boxers down his legs. “Come make Daddy feel good.”

You crawled to him, immediately licking his slit, moaning at the taste of his pre-cum on your tongue. He threw his head back as you wrapped your lips around all of him and bobbed up and down. “Shit,” he gasped, grabbing your hair to move your head quicker. You brought one hand up and lightly squeezed his balls which caused him to start to move his hips, fucking your mouth just like he said we would. “Holy shit, Princess, oh-oh fuck.” He continued to mumble profanities as you moved. Bucky was always vocal in bed - something that you loved. Hearing the pleasure you brought him made everything so much better. “Gonna cum, baby. Gonna shoot a load in the back of your throat and I want you to swallow it all for me,” he said, breath growing more rapid. You continued until you felt the thick liquid hit your throat, swallowing it all with ease. “That’s a good girl,” he praised, pulling his dick out of your mouth. “Now lemme see how wet that little pussy is. Bet your clit is so swollen. Just begging to be played with,” he cood as he lifted you up onto the bed and held your legs apart. He blew cold air onto your clit, the sensation making you feral. You needed him. Your slick was running down your thighs. He brought his mouth closer and closer but never quite connecting it. He ran his hands up and down your inner thighs, making you squirm.

“D-Daddy please! I’ll be so good to you. You can do anything you want. Use me however you want just please touch me!”

He looked up at you from in between your legs and smirked. “Anything? You’d even let me fill this sweet cunt up with my cum?” He asked, causing another moan to ring out from your throat. “Oh you want that, don’t you. Dirty girl. You wanna be full of your Daddy?”

“Y-yes! Please, just-” you stopped short when he put his lips around your clit, sucking with full force. “Oh yes Daddy! Fuck!” He inserted two metal fingers inside you, the stretch sending fireworks throughout your body. His eyes connected with yours as he kept sucking your clit and fingering you. He loved watching your eyes when he pleasured you. Loved how glassy and dazed you looked. He added a third finger, stretching you to the hilt. Your orgasm was coming quick. “Can I cum, Daddy?” He moaned into your pussy signaling yes and you exploded. Your walls clenched and your clit throbbed as euphoria washed over you.

Bucky didn’t stop his movements, though. If anything, he sucked a little harder and fingered you a little faster. You were letting out high pitched moans continuously, already on the brink of a second orgasm. “DADDY!” You yelled out as the most intense orgasm of your life washed over you, squirting onto his face and the bed. The sound of your liquid hitting the sheets made Bucky feral. He let you ride out your high on his face and his fingers before carefully removing himself.

“Oh, honey, you are too fucking much. Squirting for your Daddy, now that’s what good girls do. So proud of you angel.” He kissed you passionately, letting your taste on his tongue fill your mouth. “Gonna give you my cock now, okay? Gotta make sure all that attitude is really gone.”

He aligned himself with your pussy and immediately thrusted all the way in. He gave you no time to adjust to his size before he snapped his hips hard, hitting your g-spot everytime. “Such a slutty little thing, look at ‘cha,” he taunted, unable to take his eyes away from his cock slipping in and out of you. “You got my cock fucking drenched, baby girl. You that desperate to be fucked? Making puddles on this bed I swear,” he said, continuing to fuck you hard. His hand reached to your clit, giving it a feather light touch just to tease you a little more.

“Daddy, touch my clit, please! Been so good for you,” you pleaded.

He laughed. “Nothing is ever enough for you, is it? Got you stuffed full of cock and you’re asking for more?” Despite his teasing, he gave you what you wanted, connecting his fingers to your clit and applying the perfect amount of pressure. “Fuck, feel you squeezing me. You gonna cum again for me? You gonna cum all over Daddy’s big cock?”

“Yes, Daddy!” you screamed, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Cum with me baby girl, gonna fill you up. Gonna get you all pregnant and round. Fuck you’re gonna look so good carrying my baby,” he grunted, thrusts growing sloppy.

“Give it to me, Daddy! Fill me up!” You moaned, feeling his cum shooting into your body and setting off your own orgasm. You screamed as you came, squirting for the second time.

When you had both finished, he removed his dick from you and got up to get a towel. He carefully cleaned you up, looking into your eyes with love.

“So, did we fix that attitude?”

“I don’t know,” you smirked. “I think there’s still some in there that needs to be fucked out of me.”

“You’re trouble,” Bucky growled, crawling on top of you once again.

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delicatebarness · 1 month

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bring him home | chapter four

Summary: It's 3 months after your fight in Germany. Reader is in Wakanda for the first time and comes face to face with someone she thought she never would again.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. (Potentially but not really) Captain America: Civil War & Black Panther. Flash Back Chapter.

Word Count: 1929

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: I wanted to write more about Bucky and Reader's relationship. I thought now would be a good time, not exactly halfway through but enough for their love for each other to have already been set. It was also a lot longer than my typical mid chapter flash back so here we are.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED TO ANY THIRD-PARTY SITE OR APP. IF ANYONE SEES MY WORK ANYWHERE BUT HERE, IT HAS BEEN REPOSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

As Genius As Your Mind Is

Flying into Wakanda, you couldn't believe you were here. You had been formally invited to meet with Princess Shuri and discuss tech and science. You were incredibly excited. Since Germany, your dad has been much more protective than usual—limited access to the suit, very little mission exposure, and many safety meetings. However, after he received contact from Wakanda explaining that King T’Challa was impressed by your knowledge and passion for new tech; he would love for you to visit and help the country with resources. Tony, being the bragging type of parent, of course, agreed for you to go.

“My daughter was personally chosen by a KING to help develop his country.” Would be all anyone heard about for the next month until the jet landed. Little did he know then that the country was fully developed and far more advanced than any Stark could imagine.

Just as you thought the Wakandan Jet was about to land in a farmer’s field, the sky seemed to open up and you carried on flying. You rushed over to the window as you flew, your jaw dropped as you took in the high-tech skyscrapers and motorways. “Is this real?” Your mind, your brilliant genius mind, could not apprehend your surroundings. So many questions, and possibilities. “Why do you need me?”

You were greeted by King T’Challa himself when you landed, his sister and mother stood by his side.

“Y/N, it’s great to meet you again!” T’Challa exclaimed as you walked out of the jet. “Thankfully the circumstances are an improvement.” You shared a knowing look between the two of you. Fair, you were both technically on the same team during the fight however you did secretly betray said side.

“Your Highness, it is my absolute honor to be in your country,” Once again looking around the scenery surrounding you. “Incredible.” An almost inaudible whisper to yourself as the endless possibilities wandered around your mind. “However, I can’t help but notice that I may be a little out of my league here,” Using your arms to gesture around you. “Wakanda seems pretty well developed already.”

“Miss Stark, as genius as your mind is,” T’Challa began to state as you noticed the long box they started to bring out from inside what you can only guess to be the palace. “It is your heart we require to further our research.”

Panic.

No amount of safety meetings from your dad could have prepared you for this. You start to reach for your hand repulsor as you watch them begin to open the box. Yes, you betrayed a king and his mission to arrest but was it really this drastic?

As the box began to open, your heart raced with a mix of excitement and apprehension. What could be inside that would require your heart rather than your intellect? After the box had opened and you saw the contents, you retracted the repulsor and with trembling hands, you approached the device, your mind racing with possibilities and uncertainties alike. Where did they find this? You knew from your dad's retelling that it had happened but T’Challa? As far as you knew, your dad didn’t know he was anywhere near the fight between him, Steve, and Bucky.

“Your Highness, I don’t mean to sound, I don’t know,” Words all of a sudden had become unknown to you. Thoughts were in a secret language even you couldn’t crack the code to. “How did you get this? And, why does it involve me?”

“Well, Miss Stark, we believe you may be a very important part of his deprogramming,”

“His what?”

Be Careful

Looking out at the field, your heart felt like it had stopped. There he was, armless, hair just as long as it was when you last saw him. It was as if nothing about him had changed, yet, everything seemed to be different. You watched as he threw hay around the field, goats following closely behind him. He looked peaceful, that was until he noticed you standing at the top of the hill watching him.

You began to raise your hand to wave slightly at him, confusion took over his face as a small smile appeared on yours. His thoughts must have been racing with what-ifs and how comes about your sudden appearance in his haven. Neither of you knew who should make their way over to the other first.

“Miss Stark, you are no help just standing there,” Ayo spoke to you through an ear comm. Sighing, you remembered how much you hated this part of the job. Always having voices in your ear. “You need to approach to make cont-.” Her voice was silenced by you, removing the comm. This man had never once hurt you, even when his mind was not his own, he couldn’t. The Winter Soldier tried but James Buchanan Barnes did not allow it.

“Why are you here?” Your body jumped in shock when he suddenly appeared in front of you, your guard was down while removing the comm and you didn’t see him jog over to you. “You can’t be here.” He towered over you due to his added height and muscle from the serum.

“Sergeant Barns,” Trying to calm your breathing back down as you looked up at him, trying to stand your ground and not show weakness to his stealth and stance. “I have been invited here to assist Princess Shuri and Ayo in your recovery.” Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes not wanting to see the potential pain that word may cause. “I hope you don’t mind, I don’t quite know myself why me or how I can help but I promise you, I will try my hardest to find you peace.”

“I was peaceful until,” Stopping mid-sentence, he also took a breath before continuing. You could tell he was considering what to say next. Guilt immediately rushed over you as you remembered how his demeanor changed when you showed up. “Until you weren’t safe anymore.” His words hung in the air, a silence fell over us. The only sound was the goats in the distance.

His words continued to teach in the newfound tense atmosphere, and the weight of his confession began to settle heavily on your shoulders. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions began to form within you. You couldn’t find the right words to say back to him. Regret was once again tugging at your heart as the realization of your presence had come with unintended consequences.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, your voice laced with sincerity. “I never meant to cause you any sort of distress.” The air once again felt heavy around you, uncertainty clouded you both. After a moment, Bucky softened, letting out a sigh.

“I know,” He replied, his voice becoming a new sort of gentle. A gentle you’ve never come across in anyone, not even Steve, before. “Just,” he sighed. “Be careful.” The tension began to ease between you, Bucky’s guard lowered and you couldn’t help but notice how his features told his story. The battles he’d fought, both physically and mentally.

“I will,” You made him a promise, determination in your voice as looked into his eyes. “I’ll do everything in my power to ensure everything is alright.”

His eyes softened, and the edges of his lips pulled into a small smile. He didn’t know what it was about you, yet you eased something in him. He couldn’t corrupt that.

“Thank you,” he said, as he fixed the sling around his shoulder. “That means more to me than you know.”

I See You

Before you knew it, you had been in Wakanda for almost a month. Immersing yourself in your work with Shuri and Ayo that will help aid Bucky’s recovery. Shuri explained early on that in conversation with T’Challa when he returned with Bucky, he and Steve discussed how The Winter Soldier and Bucky had responded to your presence. They believed that since you are the only person to have a positive exchange with both then you’d be the best candidate to support him throughout the process.

Of course, you tried your best to stay out of their way as well. It was clear that as much as a Stark you were, Shuri was more adaptable to the science and tech life, having better resources than you could imagine. So, you did what you could in creating a new arm for Bucky. You thought he suited wondering the farm without one. With Ayo, you did what she asked when she asked. If she wanted you to be there for the trigger words therapy, you tried to be. Bucky wouldn’t allow it still. “No.” He’d bark at both you and Ayo whenever he heard that you’d be asked to come to the outskirts.

As every day passed and you both faced new challenges, you were beginning to see progress and small glimpses of the man he was back in the 40s. You began to forge a bond with Bucky, or as you insist on calling him, James. This connection grew as you both opened up more to each other. In the quiet moments, you would be with each other either by an evening fire or walking through the Wakandan countryside. Within the solace of each other’s presence, you learned more about his childhood in the 40s as he learned about yours in the 90s. You began spending the afternoons together tending the goats or beating him at chess.

The peaceful Wakandan Countryside evening encouraged you both to sit by the lake in front of Bucky’s hut. The only sound was the soft lapping of the lake and chess pieces moving around the board. It became evident that Bucky had a remarkable intellect, and you shared an interest in reading and literature too. Shortly after your first day in Wakanda, you were discussing The Hobbit. He opened up about the anticipation surrounding its debut, you introduced him to the film adaptation.

“You didn’t stop me from calling you ‘James’.” You mumbled breaking the silence that had lasted who knows how long, It was the first time since you landed he hadn’t autocorrected you to ‘Bucky’ when you referred to him as James. He responded with a hum focused on the chessboard between you. “I did say ‘It’s your move, James.’,” you repeated. “I called you ‘James’ and you didn’t correct me.”

“I didn’t want you to stop.” He confessed softly as he continued to ponder his next moves.

“Why?”

“When you say my name,” A pause, he was gathering his thoughts. He is debating in his mind on the best way to describe it to you. “It feels like you see me. You see who I truly am, not the mistakes and regrets that replay in my mind.”

“James,” Your voice was louder now, stern with sincerity. It was that moment when he stopped planning what to do next and looked up at you. “I see you.”

Your heart raced as you looked at Bucky, his eyes meeting yours. Without a word, he leaned in. He pressed his lips gently against yours, sending sparks through your body. It was simple yet, felt like it was what you both had been missing. You fit together.

“Thank you,” Letting out a whisper of gratitude as he pulled away from your lips for a moment. You gazed up at him with flushed cheeks and a giggle, your heart swelled with happiness as he pulled you in for another, only this time with longing and passion.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #catws #bucky x y/n #dad!tony stark x daughter!reader #falcon and the winter soldier #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #tony stark x reader #tony stark #the avengers #the avengers x reader

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hail-americas-ass · 2 months

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✒Dig My Grave, Both Wide and Deep

Link here

Steve takes his first step towards living in the 21st Century without Bucky by his side now that he hasn't got an alien invasion to distract him from grief. In which, Steve visits Bucky's grave and realises Bucky would have wanted him to live the life he couldn't have.

This fic was written for the @catws-anniversary under prompt '1940s', and for @stuckybingo under prompt '1930's', as a part 2 in my series A little something called 'History'.

#CATWS10 #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve x bucky #steve/bucky #stevebucky #catws #catws anniversary #stucky fic recs #stucky fic rec #stucky fanfic rec #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic #steve and bucky #jewish bucky barnes

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phoenixstark1708 · 7 months

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bucky barnes being subby :]

smut 18+

warnings: slight BDSM, switch!reader, switch!bucky, some slapping, some degradation, desperate bucky, slight dumbification, chains (on bucky), praise, mean names, pet names, single tear, threats of orgasm denial.... lmk if i missed anything

summary: bucky is turned on by the reader (first person) being dom, and he gets a little tied up, after the reader gets the... yk... she switches to sub lol

pairings: buckyxfem!reader, sub!buckyxdom!reader, switch!buckyxswitch!reader.........

kinda shit, but that aight.

basically p0rn without pl0t

"so needy for me baby boy. you think you earned my pussy yet? hm?" I undressed, he was laying on the bed, practically begging me to make him feel good. "yes" he nearly shouted"yes what?" I smirked, climbing up.to straddle him, i slap his face "yes ma'am" he breathed "good boy"

he was basically whining, fucking desperate for me. "how?" I asked "what?" "how have you earned it?" "i-" he stuttered "exactly. lemme tell you how this is gonna go. you are gonna watch me cum on your stomach" i grabbed a viberator "and you are not going to touch me. at all." I turn on the vibe, grinding down on his lower abdomen/upper thighs, feeling him achingly hard under his clothes. he hasnt taken anything off yet. "strap in little whore. this may take a while."

I was masturbating on him, and he was watching me like a lion stalks a gizelle. it was extremely hot to be able to take control like this. i intentionally supressed my moans, and noises, just to piss him off. he gripped my thighs and ass and i ripped his hands away "did i not tell you that you werent allowed to touch me?" he threw his head back and groaned, frustrated and dissapointed that i wasnt letting him touch me. i slapped his face a little "watch me baby" he did as he was told and observed the way my body reacted to the vibrator. after a few minutes, he tried to grab at me again, causing me to grab both of his arms and shove them to be alligned with his head "you do that again, you're not cumming for a week." his eyes got wide "but-" i cut him off "no. shut up you stupid little cumslut. Don’t make me punish you baby.” he looked equally frusterated and turned on by my controlling nature. Usually, he’s the one in control, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. “you know, if you’d let me touch you, you wouldve cum by now.” I ignored his comment, feeling myself getting close.

A fimiliar heat welled up inside of me. I let out a high-pitched whine as I came, my muscles convulsing. I made sure that he had a clear view of me as I closed my eyes. When I slowly came down from the orgasm, I looked at him. His nostrils were flared, and there was an unbelievably hot fire in his eyes.

I liked the feeling of control, being able to dominate a 6’5” man. Wow. I ran my fingers through his hair, bending so that my tits were right above his face. He shot me a pleading look, almost as if to beg me to let him suck on my brests. I smiled sweetly “there you go” I cooed “so you can listen to directions.” he whined. That was one of the hottest sounds I'd ever heard.

I leaned over to kiss his neck, reaching to grab his arms. I placed his hands on my thighs, giving them a little squeeze to give him permission to grope me. He heaved a sigh of relief and started massaging my flesh as I kissed his stubbled neck.

I trailed kisses up his jaw, and to his nose, planting a small one directly on his nose. I kissed him, feeling his hands run up my back, and tangle into my hair, not pulling, just there. I did the same, and tugged on his hair, making him moan into the kiss. I slid my tounge into his mouth, taking the control he surrendered to me.

I started grinding down on him, loving the groans he was emitting. I smirked and pulled away, my hands roaming his chest “hands baby” he sighed and let his hands fall to his sides. I went further down, pulling his shirt above his head. I shamelessly admired the man before me, abs glistening with sweat.

I pulled off his pants, leaving the boxers. I went lower, so my head was above his crotch, and started palming his clothed cock. He moaned loudly, and tried to buck his hips up, desperate for more relief. I pulled my hand away and he let out a sob. “pl-please! I n-need…” he begged “what to you need, honey?” I asked, a mischevious smile making its way to my lips “you!” He cried out “mhm, you have me, don’t you?” He whimpered “I need you to touch me… please” he whispered “okay sweet boy”.

I rubbed his cock through his boxers, loving the reaction I got. He sighed, and visibly relaxed. “Feel good?” He nodded, looking into my eyes with a mixture or adoration and pleasure. I stopped my movements, “n-no! Please-” I cut him off “use your words, handsome.” “Yes! Yes it feels good ma’am” he emphasized that last word, knowing that it would encourage me to give his what he wanted. I pulled off his boxers, his huge cock springing free, dripping with precum. I groaned at the sight, leaning down to lick it off the tip.

His hands flew to my hair, trying to push my head down. I tore his hands off of me “really Bucky?! You’re asking for punishment at this point.” I sighed. His eyes welled up with tears “plea-please! I can’t take it anymore! I need something!” I crawled up his body “I was going to give it to you, bubba. But someone couldn’t wait like a good boy, and decided to break the ONE rule I gave you.”

A tear rolled down his cheek and i leaned down and kissed it off his face “tell me what you want baby. I’m not touching you, and your not touching yourself, yet. What do you want, hun?” A blush blossomed on his cheeks “can you- can you sit on my face?” His words went directly to my core, just dampening at the thought of it. But, I couldn’t. I was punishing him, not rewarding him. I knew the one thing he wanted, was to either be the one pleasuring me, or to have me pleasuring him. “Hmm…” he looked confused and worried. “No.” He nearly screamed “please!!! I-PLEASE!” I wanted so bad to give him what he wanted. “Stay here.” I walked to the closet, and dug around a bit, looking for four the sets of chains I had.

With his strength, and metal arm, he could easily break through rope or handcuffs, but he wouldn’t be able to break these chains, having been enchanted. I found them, glowing a slight blue color. I also saw something else on my way out, a blindfold. That gave me some ideas. I walked out, my new toys behind my back.

He looked at me curiously, trying to see what I had. I was grinning when I dropped them on the ground, making his eyes go wide. I tied his metal arm to a bedpost, making sure he wouldn’t escape. I tied the other hand, and his legs, having him spread out, in a starfish position. Then, I reached for the blindfold, making sure that he was looking at my ass.

He let out a strangled noise, needing a release. I climbed up, straddling him. I reached up to his head, and put the blindfold on him, not covering his eyes. He gave me a puppydog look, silently begging me to make him feel good, to not punish him any more. I slid the blindfold over his eyes, causing him to look absolutely defeated.

I began rubbing my hands down his sides, leaving hickeys down his chest. When I got lower, I licked up his abs, on my knees between his legs. I slid my hand down to my pussy, letting out a loud moan. Bucky struggled against the chains thrashing his head. I continued rubbing my clit, moaning obnoxiously, just to torture him.

I stopped touching myself, telling myself I wouldn’t cum unless he was the one to draw it out of me. I got off the bed and ghosted my hand over his inner thigh, making him shudder. At this point, I couldn’t take it anymore. I straddled him, and rubbed my pussy on his dick. “You wanted me to sit on your face?” He nodded “yes! Please! Please, ma’am.” I positioned myself over his face, removing the blindfold. His face lit up, looking at me for permission. I nodded, silently giving him permission. He wasted no time getting to work, craning his neck to reach me. “Please sit, mommy.” He begged “don’t hover, please just sit. Two taps of the tongue if I need a break.”

I rested my weight on his face, his mouth immediately latching onto my clit. I threw my head back in pleasure, gripping the headboard to steady myself. He lapped desperately at my pussy, bucking his hips to try and get any form of stimulation. He tapped his tongue twice, so I sat up. He looked at me in desperation, motioning with his eyes to his crotch “..please” he simpered. “Okay baby” I went to move down his body, but he protested “wait… I still wanna taste you…” I grinned, and repositioned my body, so my mouth was over his dripping cock, and my pussy over his mouth.

I ground myself against his face, mewling as he dipped his tongue into my hole. I took his weeping dick in my hand, and spread the copious amount of precum over the tip. I licked it up, and took him in my mouth. I swirled my tongue on the tip, causing him to moan, and suck even more aggressively, sending vibrations through me. I whined loudly, taking him further into my mouth. Normally, I would only be able take around four or five inches into my mouth, but I both wanted to challenge myself, and I wanted to make him feel as good as he was making me feel. So, I tried to take all of him at once, all 10.5 inches.

I got to around 7~ inches before I felt the need to gag, I held it off though, and was able to take all of him. He broke away from my pussy, and started to praise me “good job baby” he cooed. I relished his praise, but I was the dominant one right now. I popped him out of my mouth “mhm. Keep going brat.” He groaned, clearly wanted me to forfeit control, but that wasn’t gonna happen. Not yet.

I bobbed my head, moaning around his cock. I could feel myself getting dangerously close “ohgod” I whined “oohhh imgonnacum” that spurred him on even more, eating me out like I was his last meal. I gushed over his face, crying out in pleasure. He lapped up everything I offered him, groaning at the taste of my cum. “just like honey” he mumbled. I resumed my movements on his cock, but he paused “baby… ohfuck sweetheart im gettting close..” he warned, hinting at me to stop. I did, untying the chains on his legs, then I turned around so I was hovering over his dick

. He fought against the chains some more, silently praying for me to release them. I was going to, but not yet. I lined him up with my entrance, and slowly sank down. He bucked his hips, searching out pleasure. This action hurt me, because no matter how many times we’ve done this, ill never get used to his size. I gasped from the pain, causing him to get worried “shit- im sorry sweetheart, are you okay?” I nodded, and placed my hands on his chest, slowly getting used to the intrusion.

After a few moments, I stirred my hips, moaning loudly. I began riding him, slowly, bracing myself. He was tugging on the chains so hard, I thought they might break. I knew they couldn’t, but his desperation was insanely hot, telling me that he needed me just as much as I needed him. He was physically holding himself back from thrusting up into me.

I kept riding him as I laid on his chest, resting my head in the crook of his neck. “Baby… can I…?” He asked as he gently rolled his hips up, meeting mine. I whimpered and nodded. He continued his ministrations, sending sparks through me. I reached up, putting my tits into his face. He took a nipple into his mouth, and sucked, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub. I undid the chains on his hands. his hands immediately going to my waist, pushing me down further onto his cock.

He started thrusting up harder, taking some of the control that I was offering. I was still laying on his chest when he spoke up “need me to take control, baby?” I whined and nodded “hmm? To cockdrunk now?” I didn’t respond, my brain frying. “Huh baby? You’re all controlling until you get a dick in you, huh.” He slowed down a bit, and flipped us over, never fully stopping his thrusts.

He put his flesh hand around my throat, swirling his vibranum fingers around my clit. “Ya know what I’ve been thinking about this whole time?” He asked “wha-ohgod-what?” I panted “making you squirt for me. Deepthroated me so well, I’m gonna reward you sweets.” I let out a confused sort of squeak, having never squirted before, and also unable to form a coherent thought. “Oh honey, I know how to- fuck honey you’re taking me so well- I know how to make you -ughhg- squirt. Holy shit sweetheart, you’re squeezing the life out of me.” I relished in his praise, loving that I was the one causing him to feel that good.

He reached down and put two fingers inside of me, curling them a bit and pumping them in and out. It was insane, the feeling of his cock and his fingers made me see stars. “Fuckkkk Bucky I’m so close” I wailed “let go for me baby, I’m not far behind.” With that, the coil in my belly snapped, and I nearly screamed out, cumming hard. Just like he said, he made me squirt. All over his lower stomach. He removed his fingers, lifting my leg for leverage to fuck me deeper. “Ohgod hun I’m so fucking close baby. Can I cum inside you? Huh baby?” I nodded rapidly, loving the warm feeling of his cum inside of me. “YESS Ohgod Bucky cum for me” he let out a grunt as he came, legs shivering.

He continued thrusting, riding out the orgasm. He took a few more minutes before collapsing on top of me, head buried in the crook of my neck, cock still sheathed inside of me. He flipped us over so I was laying on his chest. I nuzzled my head into him, adoring the warmth coming from his body.

After a little while of him rubbing my back, I sat up, letting him slide out of me. “We gotta get cleaned up buck” I chuckled. He easily got up, carrying me to the bathroom. he sat me on the counter while he grabbed a couple of clean washcloths, running them under warm water. He handed me one, and he took the other. I cleaned myself off, and turned to see him, staring at me with affection in his eyes. “what?” I laughed.

He picked me up, and held me close to his chest as he walked back to the bed. He laid me down and snuggled in next to me, facing me. “was that okay? I was worried you were upset with me..” I tangled my hand through his hair, planting a light kiss on his forehead. “it was perfect, buck. I could never be upset with you for needing me as much as I need you.” we cuddled with each other, and fell asleep, embracing each other the whole night.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #catws #smut #female reader #dom!reader #bucky barnes smut #sub!bucky #sub!bucky smut

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ourghoststories · 29 days

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Apologies [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

"James, seriously! We're gonna get married and you can't stop getting in harm's way, you said the Winter Sol- White Wolf thing was in your past. I'm not saying you can't do anything, save the day, go chase after who you want, but please just think about how much danger you're putting yourself in and the repercussions. The government are already monitoring you closely. I don't want them to hurt you, like that flag-smasher chick or Zemo- what if they'd decided you're next?" I rambled anxiously.

"Zemo doesn't like super soldiers Buck, I don't trust him and even though you did everything right, doesn't mean he won't decide to target you, or us. I'm much more concerned about you".

"(Printcessa) принцесса, I love you but I can't do this... I need to keep going, the nightmares only lessen when I do it. I promise I won't get into stuff that doesn't involve me but I need to work through my book, I have my demons and you have yours" he said glaringly, taking a tone of frustration and concern, before letting the signature frown plaster his features.

"I can't do this either Bucky, maybe we should have a break" I sniffled.

I was out driving and I couldn't stop thinking about it, Bucky and I had an argument and this time it was bad.

Leaving was the only thing I could think of doing after we had the conversation, I cared about him more than anyone knew, even Bucky.

He had gotten back after everything happened with Zemo and I had no idea what was happening, he did everything by the books, despite charging into the situation most times with impulse taking over.

I loved him but I was so unsure about this, that's why we argued, Sharon was the Power Broker and had sustained injuries and it was so close to being him.

Plus I didn't like Sharon hanging around Bucky, I knew she didn't have any intentions but she killed someone without hesitation and James really didn't like that, either did Sam.

He would be steadfast and run into situations and come back to me and I'd have to deal with the injuries, the repercussions and damage, time after time and it never stopped, it was getting exponentially worse and that's why I cared, I cared because I loved him and he didn't seem to get it... Or more like he did but was being too stubborn to realise.

Even Sam was telling him to be careful to no avail, he wasn't always this brash, when Steve passed, he didn't know what to do anymore, he was lost and therefore I too, was lost- I hated seeing Bucky this way and nothing was helping, I've been happily dealing with it but I couldn't see him hurting or getting hurt without any consideration, anymore.

I drove around for a bit aimlessly, before I decided that it had been long enough and I wasn't trying to torture him, so I headed back home, the place we owned together.

"Y/n?" He said shocked, but had a smile on his face.

"Yeah I know I've fucked up, y/n, let's talk about it inside" he said apologetically.

I followed him through the front door and into the lounge room.

"I just don't know how you can keep doing it Bucky, you know how much I love and care for you, I know it's part of you and who you are but we're an us now and I need you around... Especially if we're going to have a family" I sniffled, trying not to let tears escape my eyes.

"Y/n I know, I know baby" he said sweetly, placing his metal hand on my back and rubbing it affectionately.

"We've always gotta be prepared, I'm trying to minimise threats to us, I'm going to be more careful I promise. Everything will be okay" he sympathised.

"Okay Buck I trust you, I just get scared" I sighed as he pulled me into a big hug.

He placed a kiss on my cheek, before he took my hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

"I love you" he smiled gently.

"I love you too, actually i love you more" I chuckled, poking my tongue out.

"Never doll, you know that I would never let anything happen to you, and when we decide to have a family, I'm going to be more responsible because having little mini versions of you and I would be a dream " he chuckled, caressing my face gently and putting his face close to mine so he could stare straight into my eyes.

"Bucky" I smiled happily, letting out an exhale, feeling the pressure of the situation dissipate.

"Mm?" He hummed.

"I love you so much, thank you for making me feel better" I replied as he kissed my hand lovingly.

"I'll always love you and I'll always try to do better for us, never forget that y/n, you're my first priority, not Zemo or anyone else, they'll never get between us, I pinky promise" he said soothingly.

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lavenderpanic · 7 months

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@chaos-and-ink your drawing gave me such an itch to sketch this out before I go to sleep. He's just so perfect in big, soft sweaters

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #stevebucky #captain america #catws #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #brock rumlow #I Am Ash From Your Fire #fanfic fanart

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stuckysnugglebutt · 3 months

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Ok, so I just did a brief A03 search, and I didn't get any hits, so I am presuming this doesn't exist yet.

I'm gonna need someone to write a Captain America and BBC Ghost mash-up. It could be set during CATFA, and the Howling Commandos could be quartered at Button House during R&R in England or between missions for the SSR when they are reporting/coordinating with Col Phillips, et al.

This obviously needs to be a Stucky fic. They could meet the Captain while he is alive and stationed at Button House. This would open up some interesting convos/interaction among the Captain, Stucky, and Havers.

The potential for a time jump to the present day is there as well. Cap (with or without Bucky post WS) could revisit Button House on a mission or to stay at the B&B (or both). Then, he encounters the Captain as a ghost in the present day, which has the potential for a lot of great scenes.

Anywho... there you are writers....a great scenario/writing prompt for you. Go forth and write b/c I need this badly in my life!

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rqgnarok · 10 months

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catalogue - sam wilson

fandom: marvel, the falcon & the winter soldier

wc: 4,368

warnings: implied smut, mentions of injuries and scars, blood and bruises. neutral pronouns, no use of (y/n).

summary: you and sam don’t get to see each other often, but when you do, there’s a ritual you insist on going through to deal with your time apart.

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

You’re a sight for Sam’s sore eyes.

He hasn’t seen you in over six months. It’s an occupational hazard, he knows, but it’s the worst. Being the Falcon made his personal life take a step back in his list of priorities, and becoming Captain America meant setting the list on fire and declaring Sam Wilson’s downtime practically nonexistent. As far as he’s aware, Sarah and the boys are the only exceptions to the rule.

It’s not all on him. You’re an Avenger, too, even if you’re semi-retired. Semi, because the new kids still look for guidance as much as they can and you still keep a room at the Avengers compound because of it, even if scarcely decorated.

You make your entrance by scaring the shit out of him because of course, you have to.

“Is this what you call watching your six?”

Sam puffs out a sound between a scoff and a laugh. It’s always an interesting mix of emotions with you, Sam has never felt so safe and yet unbalanced than when he’s in your presence. It creates a sort of vacuum in his belly that has him feeling like a kid with a crush, but he’ll die before he ever admits that to anyone. Especially you.

“You know you don’t have to sneak up on me every time.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you quip, raising your brows and extending a hand that Sam takes to haul himself back on his feet. You click your tongue. “Gotta say, though, it’s a little less charming now that you’re Captain America. Where does that leave national security?”

Sam rolls his eyes so hard he’s about to give himself a headache, dusting off his ass and giving you a quick once-over, taking advantage of your sudden closeness to do so freely. “Thank Jesus the world still has you, then.”

“Only half time,” you shrug, unaware that Sam knows you’ve spent more time at the Avengers compound than your own apartment lately. If he has a few eyes that check up on you when you’re there, well. It’s only cause he worries. “You and Barnes playing in the Big Leagues leaves a lot of unfinished business for little guys like us.”

“Says the little guy who’s been to space,” Sam uses the same argument he always does when you try to downplay your importance in the job you do. It’s like a script, these meetings of yours, always under the excuse of responsibility until it’s not– until the conversation flows into what Sam has been aching for since the last time he saw you.

You roll your eyes like he knew you would. You’ve been an Avenger since before they had the name for it, so if anyone deserves the semi-retirement, Sam concedes, it’s gotta be you. He won’t pretend it won’t be a big hit when you choose to walk away completely, though. Whether that’s to the business or Sam’s life, well. That’s another conversation.

He misses you. It’s hardly a crime.

“And they’ve still got us doing intel like we’re rookies,” you shrug, lessening your significance anyway. As if you weren’t up there in the cosmos chasing after freaking Thanos, but Sam won’t argue with you about this. You already spend so little time together to waste it building conflicts between you.

“Please,” Sam’s a professional, so he doesn’t make a bitchface and say girl with disbelief coating his tone, but judging from the amusement that glints in your eyes, you read through the lines with ease. “Like we’d let the children anywhere near this.”

“Okay, Dad,” you snort. “How are Torres and Barnes anyway?”

“The kid and his grandpa are fine,” he goes for annoyed but his grin is boyish and unrestrained. “Jealous they weren’t authorized to drop by. This is practically a vacation, you know.”

You shake your head, but all in good fun. “If your bosses have you thinking that then you desperately need some real downtime.”

“This is as close as it gets, these days.”

Torres had flown him all the way to Switzerland just so Sam could go and spend a few weeks in a rustic, semi-abandoned town on the outskirts of the city where an old SHIELD safehouse still stood against all odds.

Why he had to go to the other side of the world for some intel, he asked and got no answer. Now it comes to mind how he has no idea where you– his contact– have been stationed lately nor what kind of work you’ve been pulling for whoever it is you answer to these days.

You don’t tell him about it, and he’s quit on trying to ask. Whether it’s because you don’t think he’ll approve of what you’re doing or because it’s strictly classified, Sam doesn’t know.

“Blink twice if they’re holding you hostage,” you say in all seriousness, and he peels his eyes at you without blinking, getting close to your face. You laugh, pushing him away. “Alright, alright, I get it. You’re one with the nation. Let me show you these files and see what Mr. America makes of ‘em.”

The physical files you actually bring with you are minimal, and most of the data you’ve been ordered to skim through is kept in a USB you hand to Sam as soon as the coffee has kicked in. Neither of you are exactly sure what it is you’re looking for so you’re stuck in the studio of the tiny, look-at-me-wrong-and-I’ll-crumble safe house for over three whole days before you finally start gathering some worthy intel.

“I was told we’d known when we found it,” you shrug, not visibly bothered by the fact that you’ve most likely been sent on a wild goose chase. “Or if we didn’t. We might go back empty-handed after all.”

It’s not encouraging but it’s what you’ve got, even if Sam isn’t sure he’s able to be out of commission for that long. He’s realized people get antsy when Captain America isn’t seen somewhere in the world after a few days, but despite how hard he tries he’s not able to be in two places at once.

“Yet,” he tells you when you take a food break and you allow him to rant about these troubles. “Haven’t figured it out yet, but Steve kind of managed it after a few years, right?”

“Steve was superhuman,” you remind him helpfully behind your coffee cup. You’d found some old whiskey at the back of a cabinet and doused your drink with it, so you make a face when it goes down.

“You don’t think I’m super?”

“I think you’re something, alright.”

“Aw. That was almost a compliment.”

“Can’t let it get to your head, hotshot. Ego’s already too big for your body.”

It’s so fucking domestic Sam feels the ache of it in his teeth. You, sitting at the table in your tiny kitchen while he sits on the counter, each drinking your coffee how you like it as the sun sets through the window above the sink. Talking for hours until you realize you’re practically sitting in the dark as the afternoon flew by while you were taken with each other’s company.

But then you go back to looking at intel until your eyes are burning and you excuse yourself to pass out on the couch. You do it almost half an hour to the dot before Sam gives up himself, and he’s pretty sure you know enough of his tells to know when he’s getting tired and make an early escape so he doesn’t take the couch himself.

“You take the bed,” he’d offered the first night, having a little trouble not making it sound like an order. By how you’d raised your eyebrow, he’d failed by a mile. “God knows where you’re sleeping these days. It’s the least I can do after dragging you all the way out here.”

“You’re the one who keeps saying he’s on vacation,” you take your bags from his hands and drop them unceremoniously on the coffee table, marking the living room territory as yours. “And I’m sure the US government will kill me if I bring you back with a fucked up back.”

He almost suggested you could share. You have before, both out of necessity and leisure, but Sam’s sure that topic’s on the list of Things Not To Talk To You About. It might be the first one up there, in all caps and underlined with bright red.

Sam has both held you down to fuck your brains out and held your bleeding body in his hands, pressing against a gunshot wound to keep blood flow to a minimum. It’s a fucked up type of intimacy he doesn’t share with anyone else, but he’s still hesitant to bring it up. Somehow both events keep happening whether he intends for them or not.

It’s like he’s waiting for the shoe to drop, and it finally does on the fifth day of your assignment.

You ultimately get a lead from the USB. It guides you to search for a random code you insist it’s on a file you’d read through already. You make a noise of victory under your breath when you spot it across the table and when you shift to reach for it, your breath hitches.

It’s a quiet thing Sam wouldn’t be able to acknowledge if he weren’t good at his job, but he is.

“What is it?” he asks, suddenly alert, fingers twitching with the urge to hover over you worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. Whatever shadow of hesitance had fallen over you is pulled back into place, tucked away for Sam to blissfully ignore.

You both know that shit won’t fly, but Sam thinks it’s cute you try anyway.

He stares at you and you avoid his eye long enough, face buried in the file, to know you know he’s noticed. It’s a silent request to let it pass.

Tough fucking luck. Sam calls your name, admonishing.

“Sam,” you say right back at him in the same tone, still not looking at him. Sam grinds his teeth in annoyance, jaw tight.

“Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine. You know how it is.”

It’s not a no.

“I do know,” Sam agrees, but his mood’s a short fuse. “Are you grounded? Is that why you’re here? Because you’re hurt?”

Fucking jackpot. You exhale through your nose and tighten your jaw at the question but refuse to answer. You’re a couple of feet apart, divided by the desk filled with files and information, but somehow this is the closest he’s felt to you since you got here.

You’d been hiding something since the beginning; taking the couch when you could’ve been sharing the bed from the start, touching him less than usual so things wouldn’t go further, and moving around the house with rigid, calculated movements.

“Manning the desk,” he says with a little too much bite, and he can physically watch your hackles rise; the annoyance in your eyes when they finally meet his, the biting of your cheek to stop yourself from rising to his sudden passive-aggressive hostility. “Handing me files, giving me intel. You’re flying halfway across the world to keep yourself out of the field.”

“Sam,” you say through gritted teeth.

“You’re hurt,” he replies, not a question, nodding at your torso. It’s all suddenly painstakingly clear, the past week flashing through his mind like a movie from a different point of view. “And you’re hiding it from me, for some reason.”

“Is that all, Captain?” you ask, creating distance with the use of his new title in a way he despises and you know he does. You’re good at that, finding where it hurts and pressing methodically until the skin gives. Sam’s just not used to the trick being used on him. “Or is there something else about my person that you’ve figured out and have yet to enlighten me about?”

“Let me see,” he ignores you. It's easier than trying to match your level of cruel cleverness. He stands to cross over to your side of the desk, staring down at you expectantly with arms crossed. “Come on, show me.”

“No,” you deadpan, but the way you wrap your arms carefully around yourself shows the defensiveness underneath your nonchalance. “Sam, come on, what the hell are you doing?”

“If you’re not hurt, then show me,” he insists but doesn’t reach to touch you without your permission. It’s a line he won’t cross.

“Is that an order, sir?” you snap.

“I’m not your superior,” he replies, even though he is, technically, but not when you’re alone. Not when you’re hurt. “I’m your friend. And right now my friend is in pain, I’d like to be able to do something about it.”

“Like what?” you ask, and it’s as exhausted as it is conflictive. Thunder rumbles outside the house and inside Sam’s chest, two storms coming in. “Huh, Sam? What are you gonna do? It’s part of the damned job. Don’t tell me you’re injury-free right now.”

Sam isn’t. Both old and newer scars put a heaviness on his body he’s not supposed to carry, but he’s not the one hiding right now.

“I can hold you,” he offers and watches the way you look away, imagining the sting in your eyes as they glisten with sudden tears. You very visibly refuse to shed them, tightening your jaw and passing saliva like it’s gravel. “If you’d let me. Let’s not pretend we haven’t done it before.”

“It’s different now.”

“Why?” he wonders, brow furrowing. He does his best to relax his stance and reaches to touch your tight fists where they lay on your lap. With his fingertips barely there on your skin, the tension bleeds out of them like magic almost against your will. “Because I’m Captain America? Because you won’t tell me where you’re stationed half the time?”

“It’s–”

“Classified,” he finishes for you, unmoved. “But you’re still you, and I’m still me. As far as I’m aware, that doesn’t change a damned thing.”

You close your eyes like the words pain you, resolve crumbling right before Sam’s eyes. “I don’t wanna fight with you.”

“Then don’t,” from Sam’s perspective, it’s as simple as that. “Let me see. Let me be with you, please. The last week has been torture.”

You let out a breath of a laugh that’s a little too miserable. “You’re telling me,” you say, and the slope of your shoulders falls from its tense, defensive curve. Sam takes it as the green light it is.

You stand straighter as he kneels in front of you, his hands hovering over the hem of your shirt. He looks to you for permission and you give him a tight nod, staring at the wall instead of him, gulping down your anxieties.

Sam’s breath catches when he lifts your shirt and sees your torso, skin showered in black, blue, purple, and green bruises. “Jesus.”

“It’s worse than it looks,” you say automatically. Sam can’t see how that’s true. It looks like it hurts to even breathe, it’s unbelievable how you were able to hide it from him for so long. “Nothing’s broken, I swear.”

“What the hell happened?” he asks even if he knows you can’t– or won’t– answer. You sigh, and he watches blemished skin shake with the effort it takes.

“I’m alright,” you say instead of the answer he wants, but your voice has softened and lost all fight response. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve been with him since you arrived and it has nothing to do with showing your skin. “Hey, I’m okay. That assignment’s over for good. I’m not going back there, I promise.”

The sigh of relief Sam lets out is shaky and doesn’t relinquish all the tension he’s been carrying. The possibilities of what must’ve happened are gonna haunt him long after this mission’s over.

“I hate it,” he says, and he knows you know what he means. Not knowing where you are, spending more than half the year apart with zero contact, this unease between you that doesn’t let you be honest.

You say, tired. “I know. Sam–”

Sam isn’t touching you– not yet. He’s careful so there’s no skin-to-skin contact, and you look at him with guarded eyes when he lowers your shirt back into place, standing up and towering over you.

“What?”

You breathe air out of your nose, frustrated. “You know.”

A beat. “You sure?” he says, as plainly as he can with the tension that’s grown between you pulling him forward.

“Yes.”

He hums.

“Oh. You gonna let me touch you now, then?” he asks, still under the excuse of medical purposes only. But Sam can’t help the way his voice deepens, molten like honey. His eyes trail over skin that isn’t blemished: the curve of your neck, the lines of your arms, the slope of your fingers.

You shiver under the attention, helpless to hide such a reaction to his voice. “Mmm? Honey?”

“Fuck you,” you say automatically, already opening your legs slightly for Sam to slip in between them, reaching for your jaw. You close your eyes at the touch, sighing away whatever tension remained in you.

You’re too fucking easy, despite the fight you insisted on going through before letting yourself be touched, and something in Sam’s belly tightens at the idea of it being just for him.

Sam’s hands remain on your jaw and throat as he tilts your head up for a kiss, slow and deep, lingering. It’s not long before you open up for him, his tongue sliding into your mouth like it was always meant to be there, coaxing a whine from you while you search for steadiness and settle your hands on his belt. Not pulling, not searching for more– not yet– but keeping him close.

The storm comes and goes and the files in the studio remain forgotten. Sam finally gets you on the bed and, better yet, with him in it.

He’s a little too careful, hands cupping your ribs with extreme caution after finally getting rid of your shirt for good and laying you down against the sheets. You roll your eyes fondly and grab onto his wrists to direct him where you want him.

He doesn’t complain as he takes your directions. The man will greedily take anything you give him in calloused, expert hands as he does his best to pull sounds out of you that are music to his ears.

After it’s over, you both lay in bed, naked and breathless. You find a new scar on him and trace the ragged line of skin gently with your fingertip, touch featherlight, almost nonexistent. It’s been over half a year since you last did this, but only a couple of months since he got himself injured and stitched up by Bucky in the Brazilian jungle. “This one’s new.”

It had been a quick job, good enough considering the circumstances, which is to say Sam now has an ugly, uneven scar a couple of inches above his hipbone that saved him from bleeding out on his partner.

The memory holds no gentleness, but your fingers do. The haze of his previous orgasm leaves Sam pliant under your touch, melted against the sheets and uncaring of your scrutiny. “Barnes?”

Sam makes an affirmative noise, a valid enough question since sometimes he’s admitted to doing patchwork on himself for the sake of the mission, uncaring of how bad it hurts as long as it’s quick and efficient.

“Did it hurt?”

“Like hell,” he admits, feeling safe enough to do so in the cocoon you’ve built for yourselves. Sam runs a hand up and down your naked back as if trying to soothe the brunt of the memory. “Did the job, though. Got us out alive.”

At that, you lean to kiss the skin, only slipping a bit of tongue into it. Sam sighs, ignoring the prick of discomfort that’s trying to crawl up his spine and leaning towards the softer, more tender sentiment that takes over him whenever you get like this. It’s not easy for him to accept such gentleness, to let himself be cared for and lay there, unable to give something back.

He will, in a minute. But he knows you like him like this, and that alone pins him down in his place to let you work. It’d be hypocritical of him, he thinks as his hips twitch with renowned interest, to not let you fret after him when his own worry is what got you here in the first place.

After you’re satisfied, you trail the path Sam’s grown accustomed to, the very same you follow every time you sleep together after a terribly long amount of time:

The knife scar under his pec from when they were chasing after Bucky, still the Winter Solider, superficial enough not to have caused concern at the time. The mark from when he got his appendix out, thinking nothing of the stabbing aches to his belly until he was doubling over in his bed and waking up half his platoon as he retched in the bathroom.

The dot on his finger where Riley accidentally stabbed him with a pencil once, sleep deprived and with two shots of whiskey on him. The wound had healed with ease but the mark made a permanent home on his skin, barely visible unless you leaned in close enough to look for it.

The scab on his knee from falling off his bike when he was six. Sarah had screeched bloody murder until their parents came out of the house to see what all the fuss was about. The scar left behind by a bullet on his right shoulder during his second tour in Afghanistan.

The cut on his lip he got shaving for the first time is always last on your list. Sam has long stopped calling you out on it, how convenient it was that the cataloging of his scars always ended with a thorough, slow kiss to his mouth that usually bloomed into a second round.

He found that you got skittish when he did so, pulling back into yourself and laying tensely in bed for a couple more minutes before you started looking around for your clothes, called out.

Now Sam only cups your jaw, tugs a little so it opens your mouth and he can slip in his tongue and steal a taste of your sigh. He wants you like this for as long as possible; vulnerable, unguarded, desperate to touch him and be touched back. Safe enough to know that you never have to ask for something he wants to give you so willingly.

You always forget. The second you meet again, you have to start the whole dance over. Fish for excuses to meet each other in the middle, hoping for new scars to lengthen your time together.

Sam isn’t a masochist by any means, and he’s not an adrenaline junkie asshat who chases the danger just to have proof on his skin that he can take all the grievances life throws at him.

But. But–

“We’re alright,” you say against his mouth, body warm and seeking on top of his. He’s mindful of your injuries but can’t help himself, the urge to touch you overrules any other instinct he owns. It makes him weak, on the field, but happy off of it. “Aren’t we? We’re gonna be alright.”

“‘Course we are, honey,” his southern charm pops out and you’re both parts equally pleased and unamused, a funny expression on your face that has him laughing as he cups the back of your neck to bring you in for another kiss. “What? What’s with the face?”

“Nothin’, pumpkin,” you imitate his accent and Sam focuses his ministrations on your jaw and neck, trying to get you to break character. “We’re gonna be just fine, sugar plum. You’re sure lookin’ very pretty tonight, peach fuzz.”

Sam splutters out a laugh. “Peach fuzz?”

“That’s what you sound like!”

“See if I ever call you something nice ever again.”

“You can’t resist me,” you say seriously, though a smile keeps trying to break your facade. “You literally lasted five days before taking me to bed. That’s on being weak, Wilson.”

“Some might say it’s a world record for me, baby,” he says, poking at your face until you show teeth, happy and at ease in his arms. “The six months before that were a little bit of a stretch, too.”

Your mood dampens a little but Sam won’t let it, nudging his nose against yours to catch your attention again. “Hey. What did I just say? We’re gonna be alright. Five days, six months, five years, it’s nothing. They mean shit when I get to see you again.”

The mention of the Snap unguards you further. He’d been gone while you tried to keep your life together, ignoring the Sam-shaped void in your surroundings. The first time you got together after he came back had been tainted by the grief of losing three of the best people you’d ever known, and he’d done his own reconnaissance of your skin as he took in new scars, new hurts that had happened and healed while he was gone.

You smile again, but it’s softer, fonder, a tender tilt of the lips for the man you managed to find in this chaotic line of work that became your whole life.

In another five days, you’ll once more be on opposite ends of the world without any idea of when you’ll see each other again or what new marks you’ll have on your skin that describe your time apart. You haven’t even put a name to this– this relationship that both of you are still too hesitant to define as such, but that’s okay.

It’s okay. It’s more than enough. The path of scars will be there to take when you meet again, permanent proof that you’ve survived to find the way to each other over and over and over again. The map that leads to you, every goddamn time.

___

hi!!!

hope you like this one! i’ve been putting this fic on the back burner for almost a month now, but i’m so glad to finally have finished it! i hope to put out the tommy miller sequel for dial drunk next week before school starts :)

thank you for reading, liking, reblogging, commenting, etc.!

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #anthony mackie #marvel fanfic #reader insert #captain america x reader #captain america and the winter soldier #catws #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #joaquin torres #danny ramirez #falcon x reader #leo writes #sarah wilson #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

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hainethehero · 6 months

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Bucky shouldn'tve been in there. Steve's room.

But the idiot had been avoiding him for three months now. And so he thought he'd pay a visit. Unfortunately, Steve was off doing God knows what so, he thought he'd laze around by the time, wait for his pal. It had been about an hour, when he'd heard something clatter from inside Steve's bedroom.

He quickly put down the coffee he'd helped himself to and gingerly approached the location of the sound. Steve's room smelt of sweet vanilla and peppermint. It looked cosy, soft white walls, a king sized bed with baby blue quilts and even softer looking pillows. The walk-in closet door was slightly ajar, with the sleeve of a plaid shirt poking out and a pair of running shoes just on the threshold.

Must've been in a rush this morning, Bucky thinks with a fond huff.

He walks over to the side of the bed closest to the window where the curtains are billowing like sails in the wind. Steve must've really been in a rush to leave his window open. He reaches out to shut the window when something shimmering on the floor catches his eye.

It's a small book. Leather-bound and tan with gold script embossed on the front. Bucky's mind provides a memory of Sarah Rogers walking with it everywhere she went. Of tiny Steve reading from it while he waited at the hospital for his mother after her evening shifts. If memory served him correctly- and these days it occasionally did- they'd buried the prayer book with Sarah when she died. Steve had told him to.

He must've really searched for this one then, Bucky realizes wistfully. His chest twinges at the thought of Steve waking up from the ice, lost and confused and trying his best to find anything and anyone to reconnect with his past again. Then he frowns. If Steve was so desperate to reconnect with his past, he wouldn't be avoiding Bucky right now. It's a bitter thought that seems too harsh in the soft and peaceful aura of Steve's room, so he quickly picks up the book. He eyes the open Bible on Steve's nightstand, a blue-beaded rosary with a celtic cross resting atop crisp pages.

Steve had never been as religious as his mother, but perhaps the future had changed his mind. Bucky knows it had changed him. Maybe Steve thought that going back to his Irish catholic roots again would somehow bring some closure. The thought doesn't comfort Bucky nearly as much as it should, because he knows Steve's been avoiding him, the one person who could probably share in his despair and loneliness and grant him some closure.

He sighs, moving to rest the prayer book back on the nightstand when he notices a word just barely concealed beneath the raised cover of the small prayer book.

Bucky. It says Bucky.

He frowns, reaching for the book again, every voice in his head screaming at him to leave it alone. That this was Steve's private stuff and he shouldn't be prying like some crazy obsessed person. But a part of him- the part that sort of resented Steve for avoiding him like the plague- won out. He opened the book.

Bucky's Prayer, it said, written in Steve's semi-neat scrawl.

The next line is a subheading that reads, "Prayer for Forgiveness."

It goes, "Jesus, forgive my sins. Forgive the sins that I can remember, and also the sins I have forgotten. Forgive the wrong actions I have committed, and the right actions I have omitted. Forgive the times I have been weak in the face of temptation, and those when I have been stubborn in the face of correction. Forgive the times I have been proud of my own achievements, and those when I have failed to boast of your works. Forgive the harsh judgements I have made of others, and the leniency I have shown to myself. Forgive the lies I have told to others, and the truths I have avoided. Forgive me the pain I have caused others, and the indulgence I have shown to myself. Jesus have pity on me, and make me whole."

Bucky knows it from the many times he'd go to church with Steve. Prayers for forgiveness were particularly popular during war-times as many women, children and men who weren't able to join in the war effort were encouraged to pray for their soldiers on the front lines. Steve used to tell him how he knew his mother would go to confessional, to pray for her husband and her ailing son. She often asked for forgiveness. As if it was her fault the way things had turned out.

He reads a line from the prayer again, one that Steve had underlined in blue ink, an anger building within his chest.

"Forgive me for the pain I have caused others, and the indulgence I have shown to myself."

Did Steve feel that way? And why the hell was it called Bucky's Prayer?

He turns the page and sees another subheading, "Intercession." He knew that as the part where the preacher would ask the congregation to say specific prayers for certain things and people they'd wished to pray for, or intercede. The next few lines make him sick.

"For Bucky,

I pray that his mind is healed in totality,

I pray he feels whole again,

I pray he feels loved again,

I pray he never feels alone again,

I pray he never has nightmares again,

And I pray he forgives me for my transgressions, for the pain I've caused him, though I don't deserve it. Amen."

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theairshiphangs · 2 months

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04. STRAW/WOOD/STONE | theairshiphangs

Summary:

and it came in the night with teeth: prehistoric fear / thing with deep hunger / you know this story. you / went into the field and gathered / straw / and built it, roof / and walls and all. stevie / drawing by the radiator, warm / your sister humming in the kitchen / listen: you know this story. or: Siberia, 1948. Bucky tries not to forget.

Tags: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers (mentioned), James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers (mentioned), Brainwashing, Medical Experimentation, Poetry, poemfic, Hydra (Marvel), Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

#bucky barnes #catws fanfic #poetry #poem fic #just letting this rot in my drafts whoops #LFtNM #Q

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wintersoldiersoul · 7 months

Text

I should hate you

A/N: So this is kind of unintentionally becoming a series??? I'll prob make one more part to this if you guys want it! Part 2 to Tolerate It

Another night of sleep escaping you. Tossing and turning in your bed once again, as you replayed the conversation you had with Bucky, two weeks ago.

You had seen the pain in his eyes that day. The way that he hated himself for what he had done, but he had truly believed that it was what was best.

You were proud of yourself for how you had reacted. It would have been so easy to fall back under his spell, to instantly forgive him and just run back into his arms. But as badly as you wanted that, you knew you couldn’t. For your own sake, you needed time.

What if it happened again? What if on another mission something went wrong and Bucky did the same thing? You couldn’t put yourself through that again. His actions had made you hate yourself. Even now, when you knew the truth there was still a little voice in the back of your head saying that it was all your fault. You wondered how Bucky could ever say those things to you, real or not. You didn’t understand how he could put you through so much pain, even if he truly believed it was for your own good. You couldn’t just take him back so easily. But you also couldn’t hate him.

To his credit, Bucky gave you space. He didn’t text or call or bombard you whenever you were in each other’s presence at the tower. He knew you well enough to know that you would come to him when you were ready.

There was one part of the conversation though, that weighed heavily on your mind. “A week before that mission, you were browsing engagement rings,” Steve had said to Bucky. Was that true? Was Bucky really planning on proposing to you? It felt like that life, the one you had built with him, existed on a completely different timeline than your current one.

You had been staying in your bedroom at the tower for the past week. Being in the apartment you used to share with Bucky hurt too much. You were too overwhelmed with pain that you couldn’t think clearly about what to do. Plus, Bucky was on a mission so you knew he wouldn’t be around for a few days at least.

Giving up on sleep and in need of a late night snack, you headed to the kitchen. As you opened the cabinet, you spotted a box of pancake mix sitting front and center. Your mind was immediately flooded with images of Bucky cooking in your kitchen. He made you pancakes every saturday, always making it a point for the two of you to sit and have breakfast together and catch up after your insanely busy weeks.

The memories broke you. God, you missed him so much. The pain was physical, a constant tightness in your chest preventing you from breathing. You couldn’t control the sob that escaped as your knees gave out and you crumbled to the floor of the kitchen. You had gotten used to crying alone.

Time didn’t exist as you sobbed, arms wrapped around yourself. You didn’t know if it had been 3 minutes or 3 hours when the elevator opened. You didn’t even hear it. You didn’t register Bucky’s footsteps as he approached you, still in his suit from the mission he had just returned from. You didn’t even know he was there until you felt his arms around you. How ironic that the man comforting you was the reason you were crying in the first place.

He wanted to give you space but he couldn’t do it anymore. Not when you were broken and alone on the kitchen floor at 4 in the morning.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered, stroking your hair. You didn’t fight him off. Didn’t tell him to leave. Just for a minute you needed to let yourself be weak. His own tears started to fall as he held you. He hated that he had caused you so much pain. That the broken state you were in was his fault. “Y/N, look at me. Please.”

You shook your head. “No. I can’t,” you answered, fighting for breath in between your sobs.

He sighed, trying to curb his tears. “I know you hate me,”

“Hate you?” You interrupted. “I wish I hated you! I should hate you! I wish more than anything in the entire world that I only felt anger towards you. I would do anything to hate you!” You finally found the strength to look in his eyes. They were so full of pain and longing.

“Can I make you some tea? C-can we just sit together for a little bit? It doesn’t have to mean anything but just,” he ran his hands through his hair. “Please. Just for a little bit.”

He was right. You could let him comfort you for a bit. Sit with him and enjoy the presence of the man you missed so dearly. Just for a little. “Okay.”

A few minutes later, you were sitting on the couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders and a mug of tea in your hands. “I don’t know what to say to you, Bucky.”

He sat down next to you, careful to not get too close. He wanted to respect your boundaries. “I know. I have a lot to say to you but I don’t know if you wanna hear it.”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times trying to work up the courage to ask your question. “Were you planning on proposing to me? Was that true, when Steve said you were looking at rings?”

“Yes.”

The word punched the air out of your lungs. If only things had gone differently. If those fucking words hasn’t been used. If Bucky had just talked to you, the two of you would have been happily engaged right now. You would be planning your wedding, elbows deep in binders of wedding venues and colors and themes.

“I still want to marry you. More than anything in the entire world,” he continued.

“Then why did you ruin it?” You snapped.”Everything that’s happening right now is your fault. I thought it was mine. I convinced myself it was my fault. But it’s not. I gave you everything, Bucky! Everything I could possibly give you. And you made me feel like it wasn’t enough. That I wasn’t enough.”

“I know,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I know.”

“But I can’t hate you!” You continued. “How am I supposed to hate you when you did that to protect me?”

“Y/N, can I show you something?” He reached into his bag and pulled out a brown leather notebook. “You don’t have to talk to me right now. But please, please just read this.” He opened to a specific page and handed you the notebook.

Your heart stopped as your eyes scanned the page. It was a letter. He had written you a letter.

“Y/N,

I hate myself for what I have to do. I hate myself for a lot of the things i’ve done but this is easily the worst. Hurting you is worse than being tortured by Hydra. I wish I could be different. I wish our lives were different. I wish that we had met in a bar like two normal people and lived a normal life free of violence. I wish that Hydra hadn’t been there that day. I wish I had been just a little stronger and that those words hadn’t triggered the Winter Soldier. And I wish, more than anything, that I wasn’t a danger to you.

You deserve so much better. So much more than what I can ever give me. You should be with someone who’s life is free from trauma, who can shower you with the love you deserve constantly and most importantly, someone who doesn’t have the possibly to lose control and hurt you.

You are a beacon of light, Y/N. The most beautiful, kindest, intelligent person I have ever known. I am in awe of you every single day. I see the way that you’re still trying. How you want to be there for me through this. I wish you didn’t. I can’t do it. I can’t say goodbye to you. I need you to do it, okay? Because if I have to, it will break me. I hate hearing you cry like you are right now as I write this. You’re so much better than me. Please, don’t waste your tears on me.

I hope one day you’ll understand. I hope you know this isn’t your fault. I hope you know that I still love you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop, even on my death bed I’ll still be thinking of you.

You are an angel, Y/N. Don’t let me ruin your light.”

The page was stained with your tears when you had finished reading. Reading his words that he had written in real time hurt so much. God, you just wanted to forgive him.

“Bucky…” you looked up at him. “I’m so scared. What if this happens again? I can’t deal with that. I can’t make it if you abandon me again.”

He grabbed your hands and looked directly into your eyes. “I will never abandon you again. Never.”

“I don’t know what to do,” you didn’t know if you were talking to him or yourself.

“Let me hold you,” he whispered. “Please. Just for tonight.”

You nodded. He wrapped his arms around you tightly for the second time that night. The two of you stayed like that the whole night, falling asleep against each others bodies.

The next morning you slipped out of his arms before he was awake. That was a mistake, you tried to tell yourself. But it didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt right.

You tried to avoid Bucky any time he was at the tower. He still wanted to give you space but he also just wanted to show you how much he loved you. And so every day there would be a little gift on your bed. A box of chocolate from the place that you had mentioned once was your favorite, that pair of shoes that you had said months ago that you liked, Of course he knew he wouldn’t make up for all of the hurt he had caused with material things but he just wanted to show you that he cared. That he paid attention and took note of everything you said and did.

He had a lot to make up for. A lot to pain to mend. But you missed him so much. So that day, when you ran into him in the living room, you threw him a bone.

“Dinner tonight. Just us. You can pick where.”

So that’s how you ended up sitting across fr Bucky. He had chosen your favorite restaurant in the city, of course. Anything to make you happy. He just couldn’t believe that you were actually here, sitting with him.

“I know I keep saying it but I’m sorry,” he said when you first sat down.

“No,” you stopped him. “None of that tonight, okay? Tonight I just wanna enjoy time with you. I’m not saying I forgive you and that we’re back together but I can’t ever get there if we can’t just be us.” You knew you couldn’t do this forever. Just stay in this inbetween of being mad but wanting him so badly. You’d never be able to let him go, you knew that. So you decided to just start slow. A normal dinner where the two of you could just talk like you used to.

Four glasses of wine later, you were having a great time. It was like the past few months had never even happened. Of course the alcohol had helped you along the way but mostly, you had just missed him so much.

The two of you continued to go to dinner together once a week but you had a rule. No kissing. Not yet. It felt like you had to rebuild your relationship from the ground up.

You were happier than you had been in so long. Bucky continued to show you how much he cared about you but it didn’t feel like he was trying to play a game with you as the prize. It genuinely felt like he just wanted to spend time with you in any capacity that you would allow.

Things were good. Until you got the call from Steve. An emergency mission. There wasn’t even time for you to all prep. He explained to you what was happening on the jet.

It was a hard fight, each enemy stronger than the last. Your body was so filled with adrenaline that it took a second for you to realize where all of the blood dripping onto the ground was coming from. It was coming from your body. The bullet that had just found it’s way into your body.

You dropped to your knees, the world around you alredy growing blurry. You were losing a lot of blood and fast.

“Y/N!” Bucky ran faster than you’d ever seen. “Oh my god, Y/N! We need to get you to the jet right now. We can help you there, okay?” He spoke frantically.

“B-Bucky,” you gasped for air. “J-just hold my hand, okay?” You felt so tired. You just wanted to close your eyes.

“No. No keep your eyes open baby, okay? Keep them on me.” He grabbed your body off the ground and started to take you to the jet where Bruce was waiting to help out anyone who got injured.

“I… love…you,” you spoke slowly. Your time was running out. “T-tell me you love me.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’ll tell you when we’re at home, okay? I’m gonna tell you the second we get out of here.” Of course he loved you. But he couldn’t say it here. If he said it right here right now, it felt like he was accepting that you were about to die out on the field.

“P-please,” you begged, fighting harder and harder to not let your eyes close.

“You’re gonna be okay. And you and me, we’re gonna have an amazing life okay? We’re not gonna waste time anymore. No more wasting time. We’re gonna have a beautiful wedding. We’re gonna adopt a bunch of cats just like you’ve always wanted. And we’re gonna travel the world together. That life is gonna be ours so you have to stay alive, okay?”

You weakly nodded. You had to fight for that life. He was right. You had wasted so much time. You saw the jet in the distance. If you could just make it, you could get help. That life he had described could be yours.

“Never forget I love you,” you whispered weakly before the urge to close your eyes grew impossible to resist.

Tagging people who wanted part 2: @sarah1barnes @my-obsession-spn @lets--be-honest @chloeannastarlight @missvelvetsstuff @sunset90 @diannana @thatmarvelloser @alana-32 @dyingsinglecuzimfangirl @jamesbuckybarnes1917

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delicatebarness · 1 month

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winters child | pilot

Summary: How it all began.

Warnings: Slight MCU Spoilers. Talks of Young Pregnancies Against Will, Mentions of Still Birth. Mentions of Physical Fighting. It is a story about a child born into Hydra and The Red Room, just expect the worst. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Word Count: 1278

Masterlist | Next Episode

A/N: There are three POVs in this story. Natasha's, Bucky's & Reader's. Each has its own respective emphasis'. As shown previously, Natasha's POV will be Italic, Bucky's POV in Bold, and Reader's POV will be the regular option. Any 'Talking Heads' will be in 'Small'. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I have come up with the idea and written it! As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated. Side Note: I am posting this chapter now to collect thoughts/feedback. If it is requested for more then it will be weekly on Wednesdays when new chapters are released.

Tags:

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED TO ANY THIRD-PARTY SITE OR APP. IF ANYONE SEES MY WORK ANYWHERE BUT HERE, IT HAS BEEN REPOSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

Act One

The Red Room. Every corner harbored secrets, and whispers. They echoed a weight of betrayal. She was one of many Black Widows trained there to become the best of KGB spies. As well as Ballet but that was only a cover. That was where she met him.

"Meeting The Winter Soldier was, chilling, he was an enigma. I remember the room would go silent, and the air would feel heavy like every breath was a reminder of the darkness that processed him. He sent shivers down my spine."

The products of manipulation and trauma, forged with purpose, get information and kill. She did see the echoes of herself within him, and the longer he trained her, the more she saw. The Red Room watched closely as they dodged each other's attacks in a delicate balance. Seamlessly. Watching their crafted weapons and experiments working together in harmony, they couldn't help but wonder.

"I was different, I watched every day as each girl would be taken and come back... sterilized. With each passing day, more of them would go and I would be left behind, still a working machine. Until it was my time."

Another violation of Natasha's humanity was what they did next to her. Turning her once again into another one of their tools for twisted agendas.

"It wasn't until I released the Hydra files that the lies began to unravel. I carried a baby, a baby girl. They used me as an incubator, to produce another Black Widow. Or so I thought. My pregnancy was if you take out the how it happened part, normal. I had morning sickness, stretch marks everything. It was her birth that was the issue."

Nashata had nine months to prepare for the motherhood she expected to experience at the end. Nine months believing that she would be free, no more ballet, no more spy work. She could be a mother. Unfortunately a mother to a child destined to become the same as her. It would be different, she would protect the child. She would use the skills she has already learned to free them both.

"I never got to see the child I carried. I didn't hear a cry. Medics and Scientists surrounded me, surgical lights were blinding me, and my hormones were everywhere. I asked for her. I kept asking for her."

The baby's existence had been concealed from Natasha, more lies and manipulation had her believe that she had lost the child at birth. Her hope was lost. She no longer could see the freedom she had been dreaming of.

"I worked hard. I became the best spy The Red Room created and then, I got out. When I released the files, I knew I had to find out more about what happened all them years ago. Even if it was just why it happened. What was their end goal? I never expected to find out that all this time, she was alive. "Дитя зимы" was what she was referenced as in all their files. Winter's Child. She was nameless, her only identity was a reference to her 'father'. That was when I realized my child was also his. They were breeding soldiers."

Act Two

After the fall of Hydra, everyone fled. The baby who had grown into a worthy assassin was now an average 21-year-old, who had no idea how to take care of herself unless it was in a fight, fending for herself. She didn't know what was happening, there were too many conversations, yelling, and rushing happening at once for her to focus. Watching all these workers she had grown up around in chaos, scrambling to protect whatever information they could, she saw the opportunity and she ran. They failed to conceal their biggest secret, their deadliest weapon.

"One thing I think everyone is forgetting is, I wasn't brainwashed. I never forgot who I was after a mission or a trigger like The Winter Soldier did. That was all I knew, I never had a life before that. I didn't have any triggers. Yet, at the same time, I was still a child, I was still a teenager and now, I'm learning that my upbringing wasn't 'normal'. I just want to explore life as a 'normal'."

Betraying her years of training, she ran as far as she could. Not stopping until she could no longer hear hurried footsteps or the cacophony of echoes. Taking a moment to catch her breath, her thoughts kept running. The only life she had was currently crumbling around her.

"All I could think about was my life is over. Again, I never had a life before Hydra. And, that realization kicked in pretty fast once I was outside for the first time without someone else or a comm in my ear. For the first time, I was curious about what life was beyond my bedroom, the training room, or his office."

After continuing to run, she found herself trying to navigate her way through unfamiliar streets. How was this so close to where she had lived for two decades but never knew of its existence? She couldn't help but feel excited over the newfound freedom, a possibility she never had dared to dream about before. While lost in thought, she almost missed the News broadcast playing on a storefront TV. "Hydra's Reign of Terror Over - Natasha Romanoff speaks on releasing secret files..." She read along with the 'Breaking News' segment.

"Yeah, I read the files. That was how I found out who my parents were also. It was a strange experience reading them and having flashbacks of training with my dad but knowing that wasn't the knowledge I had at the time."

Act Three

The soldier, even though it was against his instincts as a trained assassin, always felt protective over the girl and a type of responsibility. She was small yet incredibly powerful. As they sparred in the training rooms, he would watch her throwing punches toward him, hitting his ribs perfectly. He began to admire her movements, using her ballet training to always be able to get around him. He couldn't help but recall an older widow he trained who moved extremely similarly.

"As a kid, she didn't half give back as much as she took. She was determined in every training session to impress everyone who studied her. No matter how tough of a challenge they threw at her, she never backed down. Funny, I knew another punk who was just like that."

While he was tasked with training her, a dormant side of him was learning from her too. The man he was inside would begin to reach out, she was only a child, and the voice would echo this in his mind as he began to awaken. As the years went on and he watched her grow under his guidance, it became easier for the soldier to come back from the brainwashing. Which, was causing problems outside of their training bubble.

"I believe if I could have controlled it, I would have stayed as The Winter Soldier in that moment. They were worried that I was 'waking up' and that she was the reason why. I mean, it was true. The more time I spent with her in the training room, the more our bond grew and it did start to feel more human."

Although the soldier was unaware that the girl was in fact, his flesh and blood, something in him believed she was his in spirit. He grew a paternal instinct to protect her, and their bond grew fiercely, just like father and daughter.

"No, I didn't know she was my kid."

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harmonity-vibes · 3 months

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cybernetic-asset · 8 months

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You find some crumpled papers on the ground…

#just a fun little thing #might do more 🤔#ok to use #ok to interact #ok to reblog #A Soldier’s Log #Journal Entry #bucky barnes #winter soldier #Sins and Secrets #Whispered Echoes #Brock rumlow #Steve rogers #captain America #cacw #catws #fic #fanfic #writing

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phoenixstark1708 · 6 months

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the daughter of an archangel

chapter 1

sooo..... this is my backstory in my marvel DR, major trigger warnings, this also crosses over into supernatural later, but i havent even written that yet.

trigger warnings: abuse, torture, blood, death, fucked up timeline, etc.

pairings: later will be sam/dean winchester, and even later will be bucky,

in this, endgame/inf war doesnt happen, i took plenty of creative liberties.

summary: (this is written in first-person) phoenix is a girl who was created by the nazi organization HYDRA, and she meets the winter soldier on a mission, i cant say much more without spoiling future chapters. will try to proofread but no promises.

word count: 2,654/10,649 - that ive written so far.

change of POV's will be indicated

“Get up you stupid pig!” the guard said, in a thick Russian accent, banging the cell door with his truncheon. He shone a flashlight in my eyes, making them burn from the lack of light for the past two days. I stretched out my sore muscles, wincing from the scabbed-over cuts all over my body. After days of no contact with anyone, just me and the cold, dark cell. Somehow being dragged away for training almost feels like a blessing. I stood and allowed him to cuff me. at this point, I know the drill. “so, Angel, how was your weekend?” He asked while holding my shoulder, guiding me out of the cell – the only place I’ve known as home for my whole life – literally. I was born in the damned bullpen. My mother died during birth, I guess having twins really had her beat.

On the way to the hell chamber – sorry, training room - I saw him, I saw Benjamin. For the first time in weeks, I saw my twin. He looked rough. Probably just had a sparring sesh with one of the winter soldiers. he’s always been smaller than me, But there was something different. he seemed especially weak. I haven’t eaten anything in what I assume has been around 4 days. He probably hasn’t either. They were always doing this, trying to weed out the weaker members. Its grim, but I knew he would die soon. It was clear that I was stronger, and if it came down to it, I would kill him without a second thought. After all, that’s how I was trained. I was bred, raised, and trained to be ruthless. And that is the only reason that I am still alive. HYDRA has no room for error.

As I walked into the training room, I saw the winter soldier, long, brunette hair, with a metal arm. The only time ive ever seen him is in cryo-sleep, he looked so peaceful, so harmless. The man standing before me was soemthing different entirely. His eyes were blue as ice, and just as cold. He looked right through me, almost like a drone. “this is her first mission. You will be supervising her.” he hands the man with a metal arm a file containing four pictures of senator james martin, whos been a public neusence for hydra for a while. The winter soldier grabbed me by the arm and dragged me through the door.

It was a quiet drive on the Harley, at the moment, we were just n full assassin gear. My small arms were wrapped around his waist, making him clearly tense up. His metal arm was glinting in the moonlight as we pulled into a nearby parking garage, a birdseye view of the gathering senator martin. “I will stay up here while you go inside. As many casualties as possible. No survivors.” He said gruffly, setting up the rifle. “They won’t let me in. I’m wearing a costume.” I said, my voice gravelly from days of no use. He glanced down at me for the first time, and gazed at me for a moment, before pulling out a T-shirt that had the senators face on it, and a pair of grey sweatpants. “Change into these, keep your weapons concealed until my signal.” I quickly stripped. he turned away, giving me privacy. I was more then used to being watched, so this was surprising. I fixed the too-large clothes, and looked harmless. Instead of looking like an eight-year-old assassin, I looked like a normal kid.

There was something in the winter soldier’s eyes that I didn’t recognise, almost like affection. I walked down the stairs of the parking garage, feeling his eyes on me the whole way. Slowly, I crossed the street, nearly getting hit by a truck that I didn’t know to look for. As I made my way to the entrance of the granite building, I noticed trucks outside, like the kind I saw at my home, - armoured trucks. I, of course thought this was normal. “Careful, there are hostiles in the building. Captain America and the black widow are protecting the target.” His voice came through my earpiece. “I don’t know who they are” I whispered back. “You will. They won’t want to hurt you, use that to your advantage.” And with that, he went radio silent.

As I walked barefoot through the large doors, I spotted a woman in a similar outfit to what I wear, only without the red skull. She spotted me immediately, and I tried to disappear through the crowd. I was unsuccessful. A man in a red, white, and blue uniform grabbed my arm gently, holding a shield in his other hand. “Who are you kid?” He peered down at me “I’m here to see my daddy.” I said, feigning panic. I pulled my arm out of his grasp and ran toward a random man, tugging on his shirt. Shield guy turned away before he could see the man push me away. I stayed by him, trying to convince the people that he was my father. I got a little turned around, when a perverted looking man grabbed my wrist “hey sweetheart. You’re gonna come with me now.” He said, his voice just as weird as him. The man in the jumpsuit put his hand on his shoulder “why dontcha leave the girl alone pal.” He dragged him away.

Just then, his signal came, by shooting the senator in the gut, taking him down. The panic set in immediately. People running around screaming like headless chickens. The man with the metal arm burst through the door, sealing off the only accesable exit. I grabbed the first person I saw, they just happened to be the senators daughter. She couldn’t have been more then seventeen; I snapped her neck. I unfurled my wings and tripped some old man with them. I stabbed him in his corroded artery, a fatal blow. Killing got easier the more I did it.

The fight went on like this for a while, until the red-haired woman pushed me to the ground “stay down kid.” seeing me pinned down, the man i was on the mission with began to make his way over to me. I waved my hand, and the woman went flying, hitting the wall with a thud. Oh yea, something I forgot to mention; I'm not a normal person. In addition to having my DNA spliced with the peregrine falcon, giving me wings, and the ability to fly, I was also experimented on with energy from the soul stone, one of the six infinity stones. Ergo, I had ‘powers’. The winter soldier stared at me, shocked, his brief moment of distraction caused him to get a wooden chair to the head. He shot the dude that hit him.

The man in the flag costume, and the woman ran. Smart. Tactical retreat. I ran to every person I saw, and killed as many as I could. Once we were sure that there were no more targets, the winter soldier grabbed me, and threw me on the motorcycle behind him.

We stopped at a motel that charged by the hour… if that tells you anything. “we will stay here for a while. You need to get clean, I know that the hoses hurt.” he said, a hint of compassion in his voice. Hes right. They used fire hoses to ‘clean up’ whenever any of us got dirty. I walked into the bathroom and stripped. I didn’t close the door, because I assumed I wasn’t allowed to. I didn’t know how to use the shower so I just sort of stared at it, waiting for it to turn on. The man walked in, turned the handle of the shower, and left. I jumped when water started to spurt out of the faucet. I stepped into the water slowly, gauging the temperature before completely immersing myself into it. My muscles involuntarily relaxed at the sensation of the warm water. I began rubbing the dirt off of my limbs when the winter soldier walked in.

He didn’t look at me, but made a damp washcloth and started cleaning his wounds. They were worse then I assumed, and I coudnt help but observe him while washing the rest of the dirt off of my body. I only sustained minor cuts and bruises in the fight, but he had deep lacerations on his face, presumably from the chair. I stepped out of the shower and stood there, a towering three-foot-seven-inches, short for my age. He glanced at me and handed me a towel while dabbing his wounds “whats this for?” I asked “dry yourself. They will notice our absence if were not back soon.” so, I dried myself off, and put on my uniform, running my fingers over the red skull with tentacles, like a squid. I giggled, imaging it wiggling its tentacles.

Bucky

The little girl was looking at her uniform, giggling. For a moment I thought of two young girls in brooklyn. I was a teenager with sisters… what? No, I wasn’t. I am a weapon for hydra. Whats going on? I was steadily bleeding from the prick who hit me with a chair, we needed to get back to base. She suddenly looked up at me, concern evident in her sweet, blue eyes. “are- are you okay? You're bleeding,” she frowned. “Let me help you. I can make people feel better.” I skeptically sat on a bed near where she was standing. She slowly reached over to me; I shied away when her hand got close to my wound, remembering the various punishments I've had over the years. I am a wild animal. I need to be controlled. She looked into my eyes, the child-like glimmer long gone. It's unfair; all children should have that. No. She is not a child; she is a weapon. That’s it- like me. She gently laid her small hand on my head near the cut. All of the sudden her eyes started glowing, a certain gold color I'd never seen before. Her hands began glowing the same, and my head started tingling.

I immediately felt better. I can't explain it, but she somehow lodged herself into my memory, unintentionally. And I knew I would never forget her. She looked at me worried, noting the glazed look in my eyes. “are you alright? I'm sorry if I hurt yo-” I cut her off “My name is Bucky,” I blurted out; I had no idea where that came from. “You need to call me Winter, or ‘the winter soldier’, otherwise they’ll kill us both” she looked at me confused and alarmed “okay… I will” “we need to go back.” so I took her small hand, gently, and led her to the HYDRA-issued motorcycle we came here on. The drive back to base was cold. I could feel it in my bones. I couldn’t help but wish I could help her warm up. I didn’t know what I was feeling, but I knew HYDRA wouldn’t like it. I am a machine. Not a man.

I rode up to the gate “солдат?” soldier? “миссия успешна. приветствую гидру.” mission successful. hail hydra. The gate opened, and we rode into the garage. She was immediately ripped off the back of the bike and dragged away. “you are late. The camera in your suit shows you made a ‘pit stop’. She had an effect on you. You will both be heavily punished for this.” no. I practically jumped off the bike. I grabbed the mans neck and snapped it before being sedated. The last thing I heard before I got knocked out was “well, after we make them watch, we’ll have to wipe him again.” I woke up strapped to a modified autopsy table. Modified so I was reclined enough so that I had a clear view of the girl. And she had a clear view of me. One of the doctors walked in with an array of surgical instruments “doctor- sorry- creator! Thank goodness! I was scared we were taken by the bad people!” the little girls face lit up with relief. The doctor sighed and placed his kit on a surgical tray, the knives clattering against the cold steel. “child, птичий урод.” bird-freak “you have been very bad. And you know what happens to bad children.” he put on surgical gloves, and picked up a Sickle Probe, the device that dentists use. He walked toward her slowly “creator, im sorry! It was a mistake! Please. Im sorry” she cried out. however, she didn’t struggle against the restraints. “it is too late to apologise freak. You will be punished.” “yes sir.” she slumped against the autopsy table, keeping her fear-filled eyes on the doctor. He walked up to her small body, and turned off the magnetic cuff, allowing her arm to fall. The monster grabbed her arm, and stuck the hook of the sickle probe into the inside of her elbow. She began silently crying from the pain, blood slowly dribbling from the wound. He slowly dragged the hook down her arm, toward her wrist, tearing her skin. The blood was flowing heavily now, and he was trying to stifle her cries. After reaching her wrist, he put the probe down and picked up a rusty razorblade.

He moved to her chest, and drug the blade down her sternum, and to her lower stomache. She was crying freely now. “heal yourself.” she did as she was told, her eyes glowing gold, and the wounds shimmering as they healed instantly. He grabbed a klein tool – essentially a broader pliers. He walked to her bare feet, and clamped down on her small toe. He bent it to a sickening angle, causing the bone to snap with a disturbing CRACK. She screamed. He used the wire-clipping part of the klein tool to cut off a patch or skin on her foot. He grabbed a knife, and made slow, deep, and deliberate cuts all over her body. After nearly an hour, he decided hed had enough of that. he only reason she was still alive was because she wasn’t fully human – she couldn’t have been. “heal. Now. Not your foot though. You will deal with that.” she did as she was told. She was exhausted. She collapsed against the table before he shocked her with a set of jumper cables rigged up to a car battery. While watching this, I struggled against the restraints so much, my wrist began to bleed. Every time I screamed for them to let her go, my restraints would get an electrical charge. I was muzzled like a dog. Reminding me that I am no better then one. I am one. She screamed every time he cut her, shocked her, stabbed her, or tore the skin off her flesh. When she screamed, the building would shake. Not figuratively either.

She was clearly more powerful than she could see. She could easily kill him, she could kill everyone in this god forsaken building. HYDRA had control over her mind. But not in the same way as they had mine. They beat her down, made her feel powerless, made her think wrong is right, and right is wrong. I have to get her out of here. The doctor made his way over to me “judging by your reaction, she made an imprint on you. Well, time to forget her!” he said, laughing malevolently. “no! You cant-” I was cut off by a blow to my temple. They dragged me to the Memory Suppressing Machine. A white hot pain ripped through me. I couldn’t remember the mission, but I could remember a girl. A sweet, young girl. I knew I should protect her. As far as they're concerned, I don’t remember a thing. “Желание. Семнадцать. Ржавый. Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный. Возвращение на родину. Один. Товарный вагон” my trigger words.

let me know if you wanna be tagged in pt2

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