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#dark frontiersmen Bucky
shamrockqueen · 1 year
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Pairing : Dark frontiersman Bucky x runaway reader
Warnings : Noncon, Sex in a Wagon, Squirting, Fingering, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Word count : 4341
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You’d walked what felt like too damn long. Your boots scuffed the dirt as your sore feet failed to lift high enough off the ground. Shuffling the best you could, you thought you could have made it farther before sundown, but you just didn’t have it in you.
Lookin back, you probably shouldn’t have walked away from the homestead and into the dusty brown yonder thinkin you’d find your place in the world. You were young, kinda dumb, and had just about run out of steam to go on.
Every step of this journey had been done on a whim. Dreams of walking away from it all to a better place had plagued you since you were knee high, and you told yourself that one day you’d get up and never look back.
Now, as your feet ached with each step, you wished you could remember the way home, or at least had something worth going home to. It was a small farm with about five too many mouths to feed. Nothing good ever grew out there, so there wasn’t any point in staying. But, with nowhere to go, was it worth leaving?
Through the pain you just kept trudging down the old wagon trail. It hadn’t had much use in a long while, but you thought there’d be at least one cart to cross your path. Someone kind that’ll let’cha hitch a ride.
No such luck, at least you thought as much. It was then when a speck in the distance began moving closer to you.
The steer came into focus alongside the wagon they were pullin, and you started waving your arms wildly in the air to catch its attention. You hoped it would see you and stop in time so as to not run you over. When it came to a full stop, your legs finally gave out. Now that salvation had come, they were done holding your weight. The driver nearly leapt from his seat as he saw you hit the dirt.
The wooden wheels stood tall, and the hand that reached out towards you was like the hand of God pulling you to heaven. It was only the right hand of the driver helping you off the ground, but it felt like a miracle. You amble to your feet rather unsteadily as this total stranger grappled you by your shoulders to lift you back up.
You reached for his shirt to pull yourself forward as he tried to stand you back up.
In a flash he slipped his arm under your legs and hoisted you to his chest, having grown tired with your dance of fatigue. The heat had made you delirious, and as the sun shone overhead it darkened the features of your would-be savior. You could almost hear him murmur to himself as he slipped you into the back of his wagon.
Like picking up a starving dog from the side of the road, he loaded you up among his cargo without question. It was then that the tiredness felt along your whole body took hold of you, and the white cloth of the wagon roof blurred to black.
Whatever amount of rest God had graced you with soon ceased as the moon light poured into the small space within the back of the wagon. It wasn’t moving anymore and as you tried to get up your weight made the old wood of the floorboards creak.
You got to your knees and crawled towards the opening at the back, and shuffled through the hole to stumbled onto the ground below.
There was a faint glow on the other side, so you wandered towards it, and were greeted by him as he sat by his fire.
He had pulled off of the road and set up his camp for the night after finding you and having to stow you away in his cart. As you rounded closer he stood up to greet you with a “look who’s finally awake.”
Without the sun blurring out the image of your ‘savior’ you have a chance to actually get a good look at him.
He was tall, with a shaggy head of short brown hair hidden under his hat. A few stray pieces stuck out from underneath but weren't too noticeable. He had a nicely built frame that was shaped by the clothes still clinging to his arms and midsection. He was also sweaty, and looked as if he’d been riding around for a good many days.
But, what stuck out the most were the dark shimmer of blue in his eyes that got more profound the closer he came to you.
The way the light of the fire sparkled over them like an island oasis. It drew you in like a curious little moth.
You didn’t think you’d been staring too long until he asked if you’d heard him. You must have missed his question and he caught on to that real quick. Yet, real gentleman-like; he just asked you again “Are you alright?”
You shake your head to cut your vision loose from his face. Maybe then you could think properly. “Y-yes. How long have I been sleeping?”
“Long enough, I thought you might not wake up.”
You were glad to have not been roasted like a plump chicken under that heat. All thanks to this kind stranger before you.
“T-thank you for helping me.” You found your tongue knotting up as you tried to speak to him, but he deserved the gratitude for having scooped you up into safety.
He nodded along and mustered up a smile before returning to his seat by the fire. He motioned to it, figuring you came out to enjoy its heat.
You shuffled closer and sat about a foot from him. You absorbed the warmth from the flames almost immediately, and it brought new life to your aching body. Yet, there remained a chill running along your spine as you sat near this complete stranger who had taken you into his care for the time being.
He turned to you and asked “So..What were you doin out on the road by yourself?”
You could imagine he had a fair amount of unanswered questions, seeing as his cargo had been out cold for the better part of the day.
But, the issue at hand was that you didn’t have a very good reason to give him. You didn’t want to just blurt out that you’d run away from home when nobody was looking.
“I just didn’t have anyone to come with me.” It was the best answer you could come up with, and it technically wasn’t a lie. Still, he raised an eyebrow at your response.
“Where were ya headed? He asked as he poked at the fire.
If you’d chosen to be truthful, you would have said you didn’t have a damn idea where you were headed. Yet, it seemed better not to show off the poor choices you’d made just by leaving home and going west.
“Silverton” the name just slipped off of your tongue without much thought as you tried to get comfortable.
“Silverton?”
You didn’t even bother to nod, surrendering to the preposterousness of your answer. Silverton was miles away from home, and you would have sooner perished than even dream of reaching it just by walking. He knew this, and just continued talking through your silence. “You’re headed to Silverton? On foot? With no supplies?”
“I guess I didn’t think things out very well.” It was, and understatement, but true nonetheless.
It was at this moment he’d finally started connecting the dots around your situation.
“Hm. What’s waiting for you there?” He asked.
“Planning to head west to seek some fortune of my own for a change.” You nearly mumbled every word, growing less excited about the prospect of continuing this doomed journey.
“No one is waiting for you back home? A young thing like you oughta be missed by somebody.” He’d seen right through you. Runaways aren’t often found and only shortly mourned for in these times. You had been determined to walk away from home and never turn back. Now you don’t know where to go from this point.
“Not a soul.” Was all you gave him.
He pursed his lips. The look he was giving you was most likely one of pity. You almost pitied yourself at this point.
“I don’t think I caught your name.” The statement was a well-needed change of pace, and he cocked a small smile as he spoke. It was nice being able to smile back. “I guess I haven’t been in much of a state to give it to you.”
“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
You could help the chuckle that escaped your chest. This finally gave you the opportunity to change the conversation to something less serious.
“You first.” You spoke as your weak smile got stronger. Just for a moment at least. “James, but everyone calls me Bucky.”
You give him your name and he tries it out. It slips off his tongue with ease, and he says it suits you.
You wonder to yourself, who might’ve given him a nickname like that. It was a sweet encounter, and come morning he asked if you needed a lift to the next town at least. You agreed, not wanting to turn back and not wanting to leave his presence.
He snapped the reins to get the cattle moving, and the cart bumped and shook along the uneven road. The wood of the shotgun seat creaked beneath you.
For a moment the only sounds between you were small rocks getting kicked up by the steer, getting knocked among the wheels. You’d just hopped onto the first buggy that came your way and were seated right next to a complete stranger. You had to at least talk to him.
“So..Where are you headed?”
“Home.” Wasn’t a very descriptive answer. Still you persisted. “Home…where?”
This time he was quicker to speak up “White oaks, a little farther south than your intended destination.”
“I see. I suppose then you’ll be cuttin me loose on one leg of the journey?”
“Suppose I might, but then I might not. Best not worry your little head too hard about it.”
He was a man of few words and great contemplation. Every mile passed seemed to drag on longer and longer. When the sun finally started to set, he turned the steer off of the road into a clearing. He stopped the rig there and hopped off. When he turned to you this time his tone and character twisted somewhat harshly.
He was a man of the frontier, often gruff and maybe rude without realizing it. So, when you hear him shout “I’m stoppin off here for tonight. If you wanna keep moving, you can walk from here.” You didn’t hold too much of it against him.
It was his way of giving you an out, but you didn’t take it. You were not gonna be walkin in the dark and so you just asked to share his camp again. He obliged with a pat to your shoulder, and sent you off to find some dry wood for a simple fire as he tethered the steer to a nearby tree.
When your hands were filled with enough branches and wispy sticks, you came scuttling back to the little encampment he’d set up. He handed him the kindling and sat back on a small blanket he’d set out for you.
Evening turns at night and soon the small fire flowed brighter underneath a blackened sky. You sat across from him as you were petting one of the steer.
He’d cooked some rabbit he caught hopping too close to the wagon. He’d said it would be better to eat fresher meat than to use up all the dried stuff. Made for a mighty good meal.
Any conversation was far and few until he starts to dig at the story you’d made up on the ride over. “You’re certain you wanna go all the way to Silverton?”
You let out a weak laugh before answering “I don’t know anymore.” You look down at the hem of your dress and purse your lips into a pout. “Everyone else gets to leave; why can’t I?”
“So you walked away with nothing?”
“Wasn’t anything there to take.”
He scoffs “kinda dumb of you to do that. Something really bad could’ve happened.”
You don’t think too much into his lecturing, and move the conversation into another direction.
“Anything at home waiting for you?” You mirrored one of his previous questions in a different light in an effort to know more about this man named Bucky.
“Not really. Just the farm.”
“What do you grow?” Meager conversation seemed better than silence, but now you weren’t so sure.
He sighed before answering with “Not much at the moment. It was a recent purchase.”
“Really? What made you decide to buy a farm?”
“I was once a soldier, and some new land was what I received as payment for my service.”
“You were a soldier?” He just nods back at my question.
There wasn’t much light to make out very many of his features, but when he leaned in closer to the fire it helped show the finer details of old scars hidden past the collar of his shirt.
It wasn’t unusual for military types to have been cut up in the line of duty. There was a particularly large one beginning at his wrist, only to hide under his sleeve, but possibly peek back out at his shoulder.
This became another moment where he caught you staring, only this time his other hand covers the visible portion of the scar. “I’ve seen better days,” he said. “War often makes good men into something ugly..”
You're quick to cut him off “Mister, there ain’t no artist in this world that could make anything half as lovely as God made you. You AIN’T ugly”
A small smile breaks out on his face. The scruff of his beard curled up along with it.
You miss the glint of something darker that hides behind that smile as you turn back to scratch the top of the steer’s fuzzy head as he payed beside the both of you.
When the night grew heavier, he let you crawl up into the wagon to sleep. He said he’d stay by the fire, and you believed him as you curled up into an old blanket he’d kept stashed in his supplies.
In truth he had no intention of staying outside; and when he heard your breathing deepen with the call of slumber, he got up from his spot beside the fire. He walked over to check the tether on the steer to make sure no noise would send them running off into the night.
Then he approached the closed flap of the covered wagon. Slowly he undid the ties holding the fabric closed before pushing it aside.
He doesn’t bother to tie them back up; you won’t be getting away. You were so small, so naive, and so vulnerable. He wanted to take his time, just to get a second to taste you properly.
He leaned in near your face to get a better view of your calm features as you slept. Someone had to have missed you somewhere. He certainly would have.
Bucky leaned in closer until his lips just barely brushed yours. Your nose flinched from the contact, but nothing more. He then pressed farther to let the tip of his tongue trace your bottom lip, and this time the corner of your mouth twitched.
His hands had hovered over your clothed thighs this whole time, as he tried to keep himself from engulfing you completely. This wouldn’t last long as his patience finally wore out.
His lips pressed into yours so as to lock you into him, and his fingers slipped in under the hem of your dress to feel the delicate part of you that was hidden underneath.
His palms were warm over your cool skin as he forced your head back against the wooden slats of the floorboards.
He was right to be weary of you stirring from his touch. You woke up almost immediately after his lips covered yours and his tongue swept over your teeth. He couldn’t help but get closer, covering your body with his like a thick weighted blanket.
Your body jolted under the harsh hold he had you under simply by instinct, and you began to squirm and even try to scream. No matter what, every move was hindered by his wandering limbs and every decibel choked up in the back of your throat as his mouth melted into yours.
Sweat built up on your forehead and likewise under his cotton shirt as his chest pressed into yours. Your skin was soft under the rough palms as he scrambled to feel as much as he could grab.
He didn’t even pull away as he pushed the skirt of your dress towards the top of your stomach to get it out of his way.
His knees had to pin your legs open for him as you were barely able to kick free. Your limbs were abnormally heavy as he had you pinned beneath him. You wanted to kick; you wanted to scratch at him and scream. Just as you wanted to walk away from everything, eventually your legs went limp and your spirit faded. Until he found you. Even now, as the light in your heart went dim, a new warmth spread through your body, spreading up your spine and pulling in hidden places.
The thin cotton that still covered you was almost no barrier as he slipped his fingers beneath it and pulled it aside. In the dark wagon your flower was barely visible as his fingers sought after its core.
“To think, you walked away from home and right into my arms” his was a deep purr against your lips. Each word was said between single locking kisses, giving you enough time to breathe but nothing else.
“You were doomed to wander until I found you.” He squeezed his body closer to yours as one of his fingers found their destination.
“Sto..p" the word got caught too hard in your throat, as he had pushed past the little opening to curl said finger inside to widen you better for him.
Your body clamped and twitched in protest as a slick substance began to form around his intruding digit.
“Don’t worry. You’ll change your tune when I find your sweet spot.” It wasn’t long before another finger pushed its way inside to spread you farther apart. The stretch made your insides burn a little more with each pull and tug.
You reached a hand up to him in an effort to push him away, but it only clung onto his sleeve as his fingers twisted inside you. When your muffled sounds of protest had turned into a soft whimper, his lips slipped from yours to trail down your throat. Your insides flexed around his fingers as he continued to work them back and forth.
“That feel good darling? I bet it does. I can feel your fighting around my fingers.”
Your flower was wet and open for him as he began strumming at a different tune, and a new sensation could be felt tickling along your inner walls. You surprise even him with the little noises that escape your throat.
He smiles warmly against your skin as he coaxes this new feeling to its peak.
Your whole body is shaking and joints at your knees twitch and jerk with each drag of his fingers. It feels like your body is alite, spreading warmth from your ears to the tips of your fingers and blossoming out of your overworked pussy.
It was all too much, and as your body let go of him as a small jet of liquid shot forth past your folds to splatter onto the wood.
You struggled to catch your breath when he finally let you go. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding it, and now you felt as if you couldn’t suck in enough air to keep conscious. It even took you a moment too long to realize he was no longer on top of you as he’d sat up. The blue of his eyes glittered with the little bit of moonlight that had shown through the open flap of the wagon. He was admiring you, all of you.
“Beautiful.” He gritted out as he dug his fingers into your thighs. You would have winced in pain had you any sense to do so. The next moment his hands slipped from you to his trousers. In the dark you could hear the clicking of his belt as he pulled at his clothes.
This was your moment, you were completely unhindered, and yet you stayed laying on that harsh wooden floor. You could've hopped up and made another run for it; it hadn’t stopped you before.
No food, no horse, not even a change of clothes, and you still walked away from everything. But, now, with all that would be looming over you again, you didn’t move to run. The window of freedom opened and closed as he returned to hover above you.
“It may hurt, but I’ll go easy on you.” You didn’t register much of what he said and couldn’t see him aligning himself to your abused core until you felt him spread your lower lips and prod at the open area with his member.
The intrusion aggravates your sore points and brings sharp new rivulets of pain. It finally shot some adrenaline into your muscles and your hands grappled at his shoulders. Will real effort this time you tried to shove him off. Heat was spreading through your joints and in your chest as you tried in vain to fight off the pain from your body stretching over its limit.
It's like a white hot flame burning up your lower body and it has thick tears brimming in your eyes. The sounds that came from your throat had the steer jumping at the noise, and he pushed himself to the hilt.
The pain simmered and melted as he moved inside of you. His cocked dragged against a deep untouched part of you that had chills running through your nerves. Your hands still clenched around his biceps and this time you held on for dear life. No more did you push him away as his pace had gotten harder and your body instead fluttered around him.
The wheels swayed and the floorboards creaked in protest to his movement as he shook your body with his.
Your head was swimming, and the wood began to spin in with the cloth of the wagon cover. His thrusts grew more desperate and even sloppy, but you could barely tell. Your mind melted and your body was burning so hot you felt like you’d suffocate.
Your body quacked and twitched around him as all the heat in the lower body finally erupted. You could feel the tears roll down your burning cheeks, as well as the air rushing into your lungs.
He stilled with a final rough thrust, and fell upon you like a thick blanket. Your little hands were locked into fists around the fabric of his shirt as it clung to his sides.
Your breathing was still too thin and a pang of pain rocked deep in your head before you dropped back down to the floor of the wagon. Just as you first found your ladle in his care only one night prior, your surroundings twisted and blurred together. Only instead of seeing light, the world went black. It wouldn’t stay that way for long.
It’s awfully strange they way things seemed to repeat, and this time when the walls of the wagon spun into view, you felt as if you were spinning with it. It nearly made you sick and instead of sitting up you curled into a ball as the wagon shook and jumped to life.
Your companion Bucky called back to you from the open area at the front where he was directing the steer along the road. In a single night he had packed up camp and driven away, with you tucked up in the back like precious cargo.
You lifted up onto the back of your elbows. More so to roll over into your knees, as opposed to actually standing in the moving cart.
From the small opening at the front you saw the back of Bucky’s shirt still clinging to his broad shoulders, and the loose bits of hair that stuck out of the back of his brimmed hat.
There was no way to turn back anymore, even if you truly wanted to, and any attempts to move in a direction separate from your now captured might be hindered by that same man. Even if he let you run away, there was still the obvious question of whether or not you’d survive on your own. This was what kept you in the cart, still seated there on the floor.
You didn’t question what he’d done, nor did you lunge at him or scream. Oddly enough, the only words you tossed in his direction were “where are we going?”
He spared you a glance over his shoulder and answered “Home”
You stayed silent after that, just letting the cart hopefully rock back to sleep. Short visions of your mother and even some of your siblings flashed under your eyelids as you shut them tight to hold in the offending tears that threatened to spill.
You’d known you’d be leaving them all behind when you left the house, and even when you grew painfully tired, you never once turned around.
So as you curled back into a ball on the now warm wood, and tried to accept your fate.
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