#winter soldier smut
Text
Benign
Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Marrying a former Soviet sleeper agent was your first mistake. Letting curiosity get the better of you and saying his trigger words before sex was your second.
Warnings: 18+. DUBCON - Bucky is partly brainwashed; R is reluctant at first. Reliving past trauma (i.e., grief, prior HYDRA captivity). Rough, unprotected p-in-v.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Marrying into the mob meant one of two things: turning a blind eye to your husband’s crimes or taking them up as your own. Most of the women who had gone before you chose the former, leading lives of willful ignorance while their spouses cut deals, shed blood, stole guns, and submitted only to the laws of secrecy and discretion.
You, unlike those wives, hadn’t had the luxury of choice.
Your life, unlike theirs, had been sold to a man you didn’t know, by a father you couldn’t stand, and now your dad was dead, and this man—your husband—was to blame.
The least Bucky could do was fuck you hard to say sorry.
But no, ever since the Winter Soldier had reared its ugly head that dreadful night in Madripoor two weeks prior, your husband hadn’t laid one finger on your body that was not soft, sweet, and sickeningly apologetic to you. He seemed almost scared to initiate sex, and when he did, couldn’t help but act like a touch might break you.
After all, one almost had. Those hands he’d hear you beg and plead to put on you now were the very same ones he’d used to kill dozens, if not hundreds, including blood of your own blood. To the world, Bucky’s reputation commanded fear. To his wife, now, he felt duly obliged to prove he was more—that you were safe with him, not from him. He’d carted you off to every GP, hematologist, nutritionist, and grief specialist lauded among Brooklyn’s elite to make that happen. Fast. Frankly, these days, the thought of fucking was the furthest thing from his mind.
Unbeknownst to Bucky, somewhere along the spectrum of grief, you’d already come to settle comfortably at the ‘Need-to-be-fucked-until-I-can-no-longer-think-or-feel’ phase, and every bone in your body was crying out for respite in the form of ruthless, mind-numbing sex. It didn’t make sense. You hardly knew what to do with it. You should have lashed out, shut down, cried rivers and lakes of tears for that integral part of family that had been lost, but for whatever reason, you had to go numb.
You wanted to do something really, really fucking dumb.
Remorseful as he was, Bucky and his explanations for who or what the Winter Soldier was had been sparse. He’d told you that he had once been held in captivity by HYDRA, had his brain re-wired some way to make him a merciless Soviet sleeper agent, and that the night in Madripoor was the first in ages he had been ‘activated.’ How did activation happen? Of course, he wouldn’t tell.
But Steve would.
Steve had told you everything you wanted to know about your soldat, describing in painstaking detail how he worked, trained, operated, and could be called to action. You were almost certain Rogers had said it all as a way to assure you that it wasn’t Bucky who’d killed your father—it was someone inside him. You were more than positive Steve had never intended for you to use his intel like this.
You hadn’t believed him. Couldn’t believe him. How the fuck could someone sever all ties to their conscious mind and just transform anew into a killer? You got to be hell-bent on knowing for certain whether it’d been Bucky or him, it, whatever the hell the Winter Solider was, and on knowing it now. If your husband was faking it all and simply using this persona to justify the killing, that would be it. Trust gone, marriage over. If he wasn’t, well…you hadn’t gotten that far into your own line of thinking.
“Tell me what you want, doll,” Bucky said, pulling you back to the present.
He shifted gently against you, cotton trousers raising the friction a little as he slotted between your legs. He was still dressed head-to-toe from his meeting that morning.
“I want you to fuck me. Make me cum. Please.”
You were bare, save for one small scrap of linen and lace that somehow passed as a nightie. Your gaze was soft.
Bucky didn’t want to say no, but he also felt too guilty to say yes. The way you were watching him now, eyes so helpless and pleading, body writhing for contact, he knew you didn’t want his touch so much as needed it. Desperately. Couldn’t bear to be burdened with grief so you brushed it aside, to the furthest recesses of your mind until all that was left was desire. Starvation, really.
He could satiate you for now, but that hunger might not ever leave. The corners of his lips twitched into a frown.
“Gentle?” he mumbled.
“Rough,” you countered.
“Baby—”
“I really don’t need another fucking lecture on death, Bucky. I know I’m not myself right now, but I can still make these decisions, okay? Don’t talk to me like I can’t.”
Anger flashed in your eyes for a second, then indignation, then nothing. Without much energy left, you pushed him away. Flopped back on the bed and, seeming to sink into yourself, heaved a low, feeble sigh.
“I know. Hey,” Bucky leaned over to press a touch to your tummy, and it made you want to hurl, “I’m sorry.”
You turned onto your side.
“You still don’t remember what happened?”
The question came suddenly, almost from somewhere outside your body, it seemed. For the hundredth time.
“No,” Bucky answered, for what felt like the thousandth.
“This Winter Soldier—”
“He isn’t me.”
“You didn’t know?”
“Couldn’t know. Wasn’t…programmed for it.”
Bucky was watching you now, eyes as contrite as they’d ever been while you rehashed this subject to the brink of tears. He never could stay composed when he saw you cry.
“Baby…” he started, arms reaching out for you.
Eyes still filling with tears, you shook your head and swatted him off. You sat up, and your brows pinched together in a look he couldn’t read. Contemplating.
At last, you made up your mind.
You would try something new—and really, really stupid:
“Zhelaniye.”
“What?”
Bucky’s own expression contorted with uncertainty.
“—semnadtsat, rzhaviy, rasvet—”
He heard that. He immediately wished he hadn’t.
“Wait—”
You were curious. You had no idea what you were doing.
“Baby, baby, stop—”
“—pech, devyat—”
You were speaking so fast, surely it wouldn’t work like that. Either way, he had to stop you. He seized your arms, giving a sharp, deliberate shake, pupils blown to the size of saucers in his eyes. There wasn’t much time.
“Don’t—”
“—adin—”
No time at all.
“—dothisdon’tfuckingdothishoneyplease.”
Losing himself already. Feeling it stir inside his mind.
“—dobroserdechniy—”
‘Kind-hearted.’ ‘Benign’. You truly had no clue what these words were liable to do, much less what they meant.
Having enunciated this last part, you swallowed. Took the tip of your tongue and rolled it left-to-right across the backs of your teeth, waiting for your speech to take effect like some magical performance before your eyes.
It hadn’t, it seemed. You blinked. He blinked. You sat in a protracted silence for what seemed like seventeen years, and presently, your stomach began to churn. Nothing happened—you’d been right about this fuckery all along.
Then you remembered one last word of the sequence.
Faintly, you said:
“Soldat.”
The man above you straightened. Sitting. Stiff. Still perched by your legs at a comfortable distance but regarding you now with a pointed stare. Expectancy made manifest in a simple, sharp glare from his eyes to yours.
“...Bucky?”
The look on his face grew even harder. For a time, he persisted in that strange and silent grimace, and just when you started to suspect he was faking this whole demeanor of deadened stoicism, you heard a voice. Clawing out of his throat but sounding nothing like him:
“Who the hell is Bucky?”
The words drove a fear to the greatest depths of your bones, and you hardly knew why. You stared back at the handsome, barren man still watching you with severity, and you couldn’t seem to find your husband anywhere.
“James?” You weren’t sure why you tried his name again. You just didn’t know what else to say.
The scowl seeped into his mouth, and he frowned.
“James,” he repeated, like the word was foreign to him.
You found yourself shuffling back on the bed just then—to what, you didn’t know. You just felt a gnawing need to put some space between you and this person, this glowering face, however you could. When he grabbed your ankle, you let out a startled sound, and when he followed you up on the bed, you did more than just whimper; you lifted your leg to knee him directly in the stomach. He caught it.
Then he stared again, expression bloodless and wan.
“You’re scaring me, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you tried to free your leg from his fist—grip unusually strong.
The man paused another moment, if only to soak in your words and let his gaze trail over your face. Your exertions did not register. And, for the very first time, you felt as though you were something more like a plaything in your husband’s eyes—not a full-fledged human being but a system to be gamed. The feeling was so unsettling that you had to turn away.
Or try to, anyway.
Craning your neck just far enough to spy your phone on the nightstand, your first thought was Steve; he would know what to do. But before you could even think to twist and lift your body in that direction, you felt a hand yank you to the bed, flat on your back. You looked up at Bucky and found yourself caged between two arms. He lowered himself to his elbows, shifted his weight to one side, and seemed not to notice your movements at all when you tried to slide away. The man just splayed his hand across your stomach and pressed it firmly. Stay.
You weren’t one to shy away from a challenge—or keep hope alive against the odds. You put your hand over his.
“James—”
“Zhena.”
The abruptness of Bucky’s word stole the rest of yours. You cocked a brow and followed his gaze to your hand.
To the gaps between your fingers, then the touch that fanned across them to settle on one digit in particular.
Bucky thumbed at the diamond and smiled. He smiled.
“Zhena,” he repeated.
You blinked.
“I— you...gave me that, Bucky. You did.”
He hummed in acknowledgment.
Bucky stared at the ring for what could’ve been five seconds or several years, and then he did something unexpected. He shifted his touch to the bodice of your dress—again, if you could even call it that—and he began to tug at the satin bow situated between your breasts.
Of course, this nightie being designed for honeymoons and supremely easy access, it didn’t take much effort at all for the folds of your dress to come apart. Your breasts spilled out of the fabric without so much as a hint of protest, your torso was quick to become fully exposed, and suddenly, shortly, your hands were fumbling at your chest in an effort to regain some smidgen of modesty. Your husband just shook his head, following your hands.
“Moya zhena,” he said, a touch more emphasis and fervor to the first of the two words.
Now it was you who was shaking your head. Trying to pry his touch away as you slid up the bed. When he followed, you saw the icy expression had been supplanted by intrigue and, though you still felt ill at ease, you couldn’t deny you were curious to know what he was thinking. Who was thinking it? Soft, plush lips swiftly replaced his hands, and before you even knew what he was doing, Bucky, or someone, was latching onto your left breast. Using teeth to graze the hardened nub and send a ripple of thick, guilty pleasure coursing through you.
You whimpered. Bucky groaned.
Your fingers slotted through his hair with every intention of pushing him away, but when you tried, he just flicked his tongue and made another delicious sound against you.
You pushed with even more force, and he groaned again.
Not Bucky, not Bucky, not him, you have to—
“Stop!” you cried.
A set of soft, warm baby blues darted up to meet you.
Some flicker of recognition seemed to cross them, too.
“Honey?”
You almost lurched toward the sound. It was Bucky.
Suddenly, your hands were making fists in the collar of his crisp white button-up, and you were trying to yank him up. You murmured his name in disbelief, relief, and gathered him up in your arms to pull him in for a kiss.
The lips that met you were soft for a moment—just one.
Then the teeth reappeared. Harsh, jarring, biting. You jerked back at the sensation, and when you found his face again, it seemed your husband was lost to you all over. The eyes were attentive still—nowhere near as cold and aloof as they had been before—but they did not radiate the same warmth and admiration that Bucky’s always did. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was gone, just like that, and there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening.
A broad palm cupped your cheek to bring you in for another kiss, and you weren’t sure if you should indulge. It didn’t seem you had much choice anyway, because the lips that were seeking yours were hungry. Starved. Searing into your mouth with a force you couldn’t refuse.
But something inside you wanted to find Bucky again.
Somewhere inside this stranger was lying dormant a trace of your husband; you’d seen it yourself, if only for a second. It made you curious. Where had he gone? What did he do when forced to retreat into this strange, preprogrammed being, and how could you get him back?
“Bucky,” you mumbled, more of a plea than a moan.
You were kissed harder than you had been in a long time. You didn’t have to think, or do, or breathe one puff of air that this man didn’t account for. His tongue wedged a gaping space in your wet, welcoming mouth for him to fill, and somehow, you didn’t feel the urge to protest. A familiarity in the way he kissed almost put you at ease, and when his body lifted slightly, yours lifted with it.
Before long, Bucky was sitting. Kneeling between your legs with an eye to your soft, shaking torso. You’d barely even come to notice just how hard you were breathing until you felt a palm on your stomach again. There was an oddly calming insinuation in that one simple touch.
And again, he smiled. Brighter than before.
“Nashe?” He sounded eager as he said it.
You peered up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. Perhaps you should’ve felt more exposed; after all, you were sitting half-naked with your husband’s assassin alter ego stroking your stomach and beaming over you, eyeing you expectantly, and you didn’t know what to say. Apart from the short set of words Steve had taught you, you were totally clueless to Russian, and you weren’t quite sure you were in a place to ask Bucky to translate.
When it seemed words might never come, the gleaming teeth above you were shrouded in a tighter, close-lipped smile, and Bucky nodded. Appearing to understand. Instead of forcing a response from you, he just let his hand migrate down your belly, fingers tracing the skin, then settle comfortably—momentarily—at the crest of your pubic bone. Then he pressed the heel of his palm into the place residing right below it, and without really meaning to, you moaned. A quiet maelstrom of pleasure circled low in your abdomen, threatening to draw noises from your throat you weren’t planning to make with every gentle gyration of Bucky’s lower hand.
You had to purse your lips to contain the sounds.
Again, he nodded.
“It’s okay,” he said, so quiet he almost couldn’t be heard.
He let the friction continue for a while like that: just palming you, watching you react to the simplest of motions against your swollen, aching clit and try not to writhe. At length, you squirmed a little bit. Bucky seemed to want to wait for something to happen, and when you bucked your hips, a look in his eye said that was enough.
He lowered himself between your legs. Shoulders bumping your thighs as he spread them apart, chest rising and falling in measured breaths, and lips smiling all the while. You sucked in a breath when his face came to rest just a few inches shy of your bare, aching warmth.
“Bucky?”
The man looked up at you and blinked.
“Yeah, honey?”
One thumb traced over the seam of your cunt, and your back nearly arched off the bed. There he was, again, gaze safe and secure to yours and hands moving in tandem as they always would. His tongue calmly followed suit. When you fisted his hair, he blinked once more and then directed his attention back to your wet, warm, velvety folds with a pointed look and a purpose.
The sound that escaped you next could hardly be classed as anything less than a scream, but the soft and unperturbed demeanor of the man between your legs showed he hadn’t noticed at all. He just sucked diligently—damn near dutifully—on your clit with a vigor you’d never felt, and when you yanked at his hair, he hummed.
It was like his lips had been trained for perfect suction; that was how well and thoroughly he descended upon your swollen little bud. An airtight kiss and a quick flick of his tongue, paired with his hot and heavy breaths fanning over your cunt, sent your senses into overdrive. Your toes curled inward, your throat let loose a gasp, and without fully realizing it, your walls were clamping down, pulsing and leaking out desire for more of this touch.
Then, without warning, Bucky brought a hand to the throbbing and slick cunt that was presently clenching around nothing, and he fed it two fingers. So forceful and deep he nearly buried his knuckles right along with them. Then he started scissoring those two fingers, sharply.
“Open, milaya,” he said. Again, it wasn’t entirely Bucky.
But you felt a faint remembrance there. You didn’t want him to stop. Maybe you were led astray by the gentle laps of his tongue or the prodding of his fingertips, or perhaps there was something stubbornly familiar about the way he was touching you now. You couldn’t tell.
All you knew was that both of your hands were holding tight to his head and begging him, wordlessly, for more.
Your moans rang all the way through the bedroom in your new, far-too-big penthouse apartment in Brooklyn, down the hall, reverberating through every inch of the space until all that could be heard were your sounds and his and the delectable little noises of your bodies working together. Bucky hadn’t even stirred to pleasure himself.
You wanted that part to change.
With your hip pinned to the mattress and Bucky’s tongue laving over your clit in ruthlessly quick movements, you probably would’ve liked to cum all over his mouth and fingers, but you wanted to see him pleased even more.
Just when he’d worked a third finger inside you and was driving you close to your peak, you pushed him away.
Bucky parted from your folds with a glistening chin and two furrowed eyebrows, clearly frustrated to have been torn from his mission before you reached completion, but you wouldn’t let that look linger for long. You used your leverage in his hair—however slight, comparatively, that grip might have been—to pull him up on the bed.
Bucky surprised you with just how swiftly he moved.
His steel-blue gaze was on yours in a second, equally penetrating and soft.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Nothing—”
“My baby okay?”
He surprised you again; this time by how quick his demeanor was to shift the second he sensed something was wrong. Just like Bucky. It had to be him in there.
You nodded, still out of breath from the wonders he’d been working with his tongue. You squeezed his arm and tried to coax him toward you, to help him lower his body some, and when he seemed uncertain, you offered a smile. It’s okay to touch, you won’t break anything.
Bucky eyed you skeptically, but it was clear he was more wary of himself than of you. He glanced over your body, briefly to his, then slowly, apprehensively, sank down.
“Just fine,” you mumbled, hooking your legs around his back the second his chest was close enough to yours.
You felt an uptick in his heartbeat when your heels dug a little more firmly into the waistband of his pants. While your hands started working their way toward the front of that fabric, wedging clumsily between your bodies, his gaze flitted to yours, and his brows drew even tighter together. He didn’t try to stop you, but he certainly seemed confused as to why you wanted to include him so soon. Why you cared to show concern for him at all.
You noticed that then, and in just about every moment preceding, the man was taken aback by kindness.
Whether it was pulling him closer to you, tugging his pants down with a tender touch, running your fingers across the bulge in his boxers, or simply nodding your head and letting him know it was okay to touch you back, Bucky seemed unaccustomed to any care in this area.
When your fingers made it around his cock and started stroking him, gently, he just might’ve come apart.
His chest shuddered with the inhale of a short, strained breath, and his eyelids fluttered, as if meaning to close.
Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he started to shake his head.
“No, let me—”
“Let me,” you finished for him, wrist flicking back and forth quietly. You paused just to rub a quick touch between your folds, collect some arousal, then return to touching him when he met your eyes again and allowed you to continue. You skimmed his sensitive underside with your palm and let the warmth of him bleed into your fingertips as you worked him up to a comfortable pace.
Bucky rutted into your touch, probably harder than he meant to. Then he planted a hand beside your head and anchored his weight above you so that he was close enough to reach your lips—but he didn’t kiss you.
His expression hardened again, and he forcibly removed himself from the pulse of your fingers. He frowned.
“You want me to fuck you, no? Make you cum?”
He sounded irritated again.
Briefly, you recalled your words from earlier and nodded. It was true, you’d said it to him like that, and you’d meant it. You just couldn’t make sense of what he wanted now.
It seemed Bucky couldn’t wait to indulge you any longer. He fisted his cock in one hand, angled the head just outside of your cunt, and burst in with one thrust.
“Then let me,” he muttered, plunging down to the hilt.
The first go was rough, and the second was no kinder. Bucky’s face screwed up with indifference again, like he wanted to get something out of his brain and just do.
Like there was a task at hand that needed to be finished.
You couldn’t deny it felt fine at first. Fucking edifying after all those horrific thoughts had been eating away at your mind and rousing your own hunger for numbness. The drive of Bucky’s thick girth in and out, in and out repeatedly was no doubt capable of rendering you dumb. But being slammed into and taken so roughly was only good for you when you knew he was feeling good too.
This Bucky was back to being entirely flinty and lifeless—practically devoid of all emotion as he railed into you.
The back of your head was forced into the pillow with the weight of each thrust and Bucky’s thumb pushing into your chin—‘Better, milaya? Is this better for you?’—and frankly, you wanted to push him back and ask the same.
But you couldn’t. The pace he’d set was suffocating, and the stretch of his cock inside you was unusually tough.
Instead, you sank your nails into his arm and mumbled:
“Bucky.”
The man’s thrusts were both stabbing and rhythmic, sending a welt of pleasure blossoming up in your chest. You tried again:
“Bucky.”
He blinked.
And slowed.
“Bucky,” he mumbled back.
Seemingly mindless and mechanical, he snaked a hand behind your head to lift your face and tilt it toward the sight below: his cock splitting you open before him, parting your insides with an easy, welcome glide through the slick of your folds. You watched as your arousal enveloped him fully. Not a single inch of his rock-hard, throbbing shaft was spared; even his balls were soaked. They felt even heavier slapping your ass with each thrust.
“You remember?” you asked, hating how small you sounded.
The man’s nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod. Expression taut and vigilant, as though anticipating something going wrong at any second. Still, he nodded.
“Years,” he answered.
“Years?”
Since he’d done this? Felt good? Become this way?
No, Bucky was activated in Madripoor just weeks ago. He didn’t look like he was ready to indulge in any ‘feel-good’ pleasure, and you weren’t sure when he’d last been with anyone else before you. Years could mean anything.
You chanced a few soft fingertips up to his cheeks, cupping either side of his clean-shaven face in an effort to anchor you both to one place. The pit of your stomach was reeling with warmth, and friction, and fullness. It took everything in you just to pull him in for a quick, grounding kiss before the feeling gave way to even more.
Bucky’s teeth nicked your bottom lip. He flinched back.
You ignored the sting and repeated his name, murmuring it carefully up to the seal of his mouth as if requesting entry with that word alone.
It seemed to work. Bucky kissed you back with a gentle, albeit guarded, sort of tenderness that made him soften. His thrusts weren’t as rough and punishing as they were before. The dull, throbbing ache between your legs transformed into something sweeter, and your body no longer had to brace itself against strokes that, to you, were nearly bruising and, to Bucky, were just necessary.
For once, your husband let out a soft grunt of pleasure.
“They never let us,” Bucky said as his teeth grit together, “It’s been years.”
“Since what?”
The face above you tempered more—this time with a trace of sadness behind it. He continued to rut into you, but now his thrusts were sloppy, and it seemed as though he were battling against his own pleasure with every motion. He lowered one hand between your legs and began to thumb at your clit, gaze torn from yours.
“Close now?” he muttered.
Ignoring the question you’d asked.
“Years since what?” you pressed anyway. The tiny ripples preceding bliss had already begun to stir inside you, maddeningly, with every flick of his thumb, but your curiosity to know the whole truth was stronger still.
Bucky’s hips were moving at a feverish pace now; his free hand made a fist in the sheets beside your head, and his chest heaved with a series of short, ragged breaths that were no doubt meant to mask his moans as well. Notwithstanding the burn you felt between your legs—he really was much rougher and stronger now, you saw—you cupped his cheek again to tilt his face toward yours.
What you saw made your stomach drop.
Your heart clenched like a fist within the confines of your ribcage, and there it was—that terrible ache you felt each time you saw something awful materialize before you.
Bucky’s eyes were wet with tears. He wouldn’t blink.
He tilted his head into your touch, as if for support, but really, the weight of it signaled to you that he just wanted to feel you. Be assured that you were there. His big, broad arms seemed suddenly unable to hold his weight, and then he sank into your frame with a grunt and another stuttered breath. Like he was ready to collapse.
“Don’t leave again,” he said quietly.
The pain in your chest elevated, in bloom.
“Bucky I didn’t— wasn’t—” you started to say.
The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You couldn’t be sure if you were talking to your husband, soldat, or some strange, inconceivable mixture of the two, but you could tell that this one was desperate.
Pleading.
“I can’t lose you again.”
The head of his cock grazed your most sensitive spot inside, and a whine seeped out through your teeth. Bucky’s whole body was blanketing yours, torso flush with your front and hips working an erratic cadence as he got a glimpse of release himself. He groaned out in pleasure and begged you to stay. You promised that you would. Your legs were still wound around his sides, but both of your bodies were slick with a sheen of sweat; it was hard to hang on. Bucky’s hair was wild and pushed back from his face, but his eyes were clear when they finally met yours, and you heard him mumble again, ‘Please stay.’
You didn’t know what else to say but okay, baby, I will.
You swore you would stay, and in between oaths, your mouth was consumed by a barrage of kisses—Bucky got to feast with a full set of teeth again, primal as ever—and then your climax hit. Euphoria washed over you whole with a force you weren’t expecting to feel, and you couldn’t help but cry out and whine as waves of pleasure coursed straight from the innermost depths of your core.
Bucky’s hips collided with yours in two more stuttered thrusts, and when he bottomed out at the last, you felt a heavy spurt of warmth. A groan coiling out of his chest. Muscles growing lax and two sturdy arms coming to bracket your head as your husband’s whole body weight went folding into yours. You kissed some more, in between frenzied intakes of breaths and steadying moments where you were simply trying to ground your body and get your heart to slow down to a normal rate.
You held each other in silence for a while. Bucky’s head fell next to yours on the pillow when the last of his spend had been emptied, but otherwise, he didn’t stir. At some point, his hands slid behind your back, and the second he hugged you to him, you felt secure in that embrace.
You were probably as far as you’d ever been from understanding who the fuck your husband was, but all it seemed you were capable of feeling for now was pity.
Pity for the years he’d lost to captivity; pity for what was little more than mere existence under HYDRA’s thumb; pity for all the things you still didn’t know about his past.
You held Bucky tighter, and, flooded with this strange, grating emotion and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness, you wished you could protect him, too.
“James?” you mumbled into his hair.
Bucky didn’t respond.
You squeezed his shoulder. Still nothing.
Against your better judgment, you tried to shift yourself underneath his body. You figured you wouldn’t make it far at all, but at least he would be aware that you were trying to get up. Maybe even start to move with you.
He didn’t.
It took everything in you just to wedge an elbow back, struggle to prop yourself up against his weight, and when you were about to let out a huff of an exasperated laugh and tell him, Bucky, you’re crushing me, honey, could you please ease up a little, your request was answered before the words could even leave your mouth.
At the sound of two new muffled voices carrying up from the living room and what appeared to be noises from shuffling feet, Bucky rose straight from the bed, off you.
Your gaze trailed his to the door, and you reached for him.
“Baby, it’s just—”
Bucky was back on his feet. Yanking his boxers and pants up his legs and buckling his belt in no time at all.
The movers. It’s just the movers bringing in furniture—
You moved your hand closer to your husband in the hopes of stalling his movements for half a second, but then a set of ruthless blue eyes had you pinned, quick:
“Stay.”
Your outstretched arm was taken up in a much stronger, stiffer one, and you were suddenly pulled over to Bucky.
But you knew from the eyes it wasn’t him at all.
And you weren’t so much being tugged toward him as you were being hauled to the floor. Thrown on your knees beside the bed, next to Bucky. He was about to leave.
Without thinking, you reached for one of the legs of his trousers and sank your nails into the fabric to hold him in place, to tell him again that there was nothing to see out there but the people you knew, no threat outside at all. But Bucky was deaf to your pleas, it seemed. He shrugged you off easily and made a move for his gun, expression blank, stolid, calm, hardened. Decided.
You tried to rise to your feet but were stopped.
“STAY,” Bucky boomed again, this time an order that he didn’t even deign to complete with a look your way.
If he had—if he even possessed the ability to consider anything but the immediate task at hand—he would’ve seen his own hand knock you to the floor to keep you from standing. Might’ve caught a glimpse of the instant your head struck the edge of the nightstand before you hit the ground. Could’ve even made out the first traces of blood that came trickling out from above your temple. Would’ve seen you cower back, viscerally, out of fear.
But holding the side of your head and watching him leave, grim realization twisted at the pit of your stomach, and you knew the man wouldn’t have stopped if he had.
If your soldat’s objective was to protect you from any harm lurking outside that door, real or illusory, nothing you were capable of doing now could stop that. At expense to yourself, at expense to him, at expense to whatever lives stood between the Winter Soldier and that unwavering, hardwired goal, he still would not ever stop.
Thinking of new, innocent lives in the balance, now, you scrambled for your phone the next second to call Steve.
You tried him once. Twice. A third time crawling on your knees, then standing, then staggering over to the door and pulling the phone from your ear just to send a string of texts to your friend while the thing continued to ring.
SOS
Need help
Pick up please
Bucky’s stuck and he’s
About to hurt people here
A crash sounded outside. You hurried to the door. Your hand closed around the knob and tried to turn it. The handle turned freely, but something behind it was refusing to let you leave the room. You pressed again.
“Bucky!”
Your cry was useless in the face of the barricade outside.
You pushed your shoulder and, behind it, the whole force of your weight against it anyway, trying to get out.
The line went dead. You tried again.
Now with your phone to one ear and the bedroom door taking the brunt of your hits from the other, bleeding side of your body, you scarcely heard much of anything else. The ring started. Stopped. Began again when you pressed a shaky finger to Steve’s contact name, and continued in a cycle for some time while you tried to force whatever was on the other side of the door away.
The second a voice broke through the haze of your frantic, half-crazed state of consciousness, you cried:
“STEVE!”
“Mrs. Barnes?”
You were shocked to hear a woman on the other end. Your pulse was still racing, shoulder aching from the impact of each desperate push you’d been forcing against the door, and then you stopped. Another loud something sounded down the hallway, further away, but you were too startled and unnerved to take any note of it.
You started to ask, ‘Where’s Steve?’ when the voice continued:
“This is Mrs. Barnes?”
“Yes,” you answered woodenly.
You held the phone as close to your ear as you could, but still, the woman’s words were coming in and out in bursts. You must’ve mistakenly accepted the call when trying to reach Steve—you couldn’t think right now; could barely retract the phone far enough to see a strange number displayed on the screen. You swallowed.
“—from Lenox Hill Hospital at Northwell Health—”
The high-rise medical center on the Upper East Side you’d visited that week. Bucky had wanted you tested for nutritional deficiencies and anemia, of all fucking things.
“—if you had a moment or two to chat and maybe—”
No, you needed Steve, not this outpatient courtesy call.
You would’ve liked to hang up. Should’ve hung up. In fact, your fingers were practically itching to hit the button the whole time the nurse was speaking to you, but something in you just couldn’t be persuaded to do it. It took several more seconds before your senses began to creep back, and by then, when you were about to drop the call, you heard a phrase that stopped you on a dime.
“—but the doctor advises prenatal vitamins—”
“What?” you snapped, far more harshly than you meant.
The nurse paused a beat, whether from incredulity at how rude you’d just sounded or to consider something. When she resumed, she sounded a little more guarded.
“Yes…Dr. Watkins did reach out to you about your bloodwork from your last visit, didn’t she? I thought—”
“No,” you said, rushed and painfully brusque, again. You tried to rein in your tone some before continuing, “She didn’t—didn’t reach out about anything. What vitamins?”
Another pause.
“Prenatals.”
You hated that she gave you another second to chew on that word before taking a breath and pressing on.
“I’m terribly, terribly sorry to be the one to spring that on you, Mrs. Barnes—I thought you knew…um—” The nurse was sheepish now, almost embarrassed to be speaking, “—you’re about…three weeks along in your pregnancy.”
Three weeks along.
Advised prenatal vitamins.
For the child growing inside of you.
A rivulet of blood trickled into your left eye.
Your whole body was apt to convulse, but it didn’t.
You hung up.
—
Taglist: (please lmk if I missed anyone! I can only tag 50 at a time so will continue in a separate post) @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @identity2212 @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @opibarnes @wilsons-striped-ties @desigirlxx @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @minimarvelingmarvel @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @dameron-grantspector @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @gyokujyn @lunaroserites @first-edition @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @daisychainsoflove @mostlymarvelgirl @diannana @shawnberry @yujyujj @urmomsalex @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @aagn360 @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @thealyrs
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#marvel#mcu#mob bucky barnes#marvel smut#marvel x reader#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#mob!bucky#mob!bucky barnes#mob bucky#mafia!bucky#mafia bucky barnes#winter soldier#winter soldier smut
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When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.
If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)
He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.
Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️
Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm.
You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now.
Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor.
The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door.
One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.
Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.
Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.
Soldat feels something stir within himself.
Something his masters did their best to suppress.
Not that they would be doing any more of that.
They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.
His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you.
You are laughing.
At your friend that is throwing up.
Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible.
A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.
His eyes scan your form.
Beautiful.
His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;
Mine.
Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.
But he knows that it has been a long, long time.
And it's time to go home.
But a home is not walls and concrete.
It is the people that live in it.
His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.
James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal.
And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.
For what is a structure without its pillars?
He had plundered them single handedly.
And now he was a slave no more.
James would live, and he would take.
Just as had been taken from him.
You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.
As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night.
But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.
Right?
The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.
The third was the window of your room that was open wide.
But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life.
You should have taken notice of the signs.
How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem.
Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was.
Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence.
And Divine it was, you lived to learn.
When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything.
You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.
What even happened?
You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning.
But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second.
The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside.
A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.
You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.
You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.
But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly.
As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…
Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.
Your eyes widen in horror.
Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–
Or, rather, the last time you were awake.
Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen.
Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.
It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.
With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.
"Who the hell are you?"
He sighs.
"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"
The man's features scrunch in disapproval.
Your choice of words is much unappreciated.
"Good little wives don't ask questions."
In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.
Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?
He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.
After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.
He is too close.
There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.
The shock on his face is evident.
He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this.
You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.
James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.
"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.
Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.
You run without looking back.
The man is not chasing you like you expected.
But you don't want to stick around and find out why.
Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door.
You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead.
Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.
Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.
A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.
That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes.
You ran into the jungle for some cover.
Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.
Your body is weak and confused.
Many hours pass.
You wander and starve.
You hide and shake.
You tip toe and give up.
There are wild animals all around you.
You can hear them.
It's terrifying.
So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.
Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently.
"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.
He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one.
"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet.
It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home.
"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands."
He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.
"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that."
He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.
You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.
Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet.
He tells you your rules as he does so.
"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone."
Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.
But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.
A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.
"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours."
Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.
You don't give up easily, though.
You try to run more times than you can keep count.
Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.
Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.
And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery.
But you don't know when he does it.
So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern.
Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.
Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.
He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse.
James isn't so bad if you follow his rules.
He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes.
His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point.
"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?"
Today, though, something different happens.
You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.
How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.
The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.
If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning.
No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.
Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.
When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.
You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.
Has to be.
You have no choice.
And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days.
While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man.
How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.
The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep.
How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.
Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way.
You don't get him sometimes.
His morals are as mysterious as him.
Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.
Your tears don't effect him.
But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.
It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.
The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.
You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.
James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day.
After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.
Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.
Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.
"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.
It had been a proud discovery of yours.
James always gave in a little whenever you used it.
"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.
Fuck.
"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"
"What about it?"
You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.
"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.
But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.
Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.
Fuck.
Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.
Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.
You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.
The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina.
It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever.
James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.
You had done so in the past as well.
But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.
It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.
Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.
And then comes the ultimate test.
Which decides the course of your future with him.
He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.
It isn't a usual occurrence.
But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic.
While he had a metal arm himself…
You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast.
It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.
"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken.
Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.
But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.
A motorboat.
Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.
It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.
You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting.
A lot goes through your mind.
Flashbacks play before your eyes.
It is almost a full circle moment.
And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining.
His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.
"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you.
The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.
"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–"
"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy.
"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"
You two just stare at each other for a while.
No words exchanged.
Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.
"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."
He has never spoken this earnestly before.
"I just realized that I do too."
James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully.
He tightens his own arms around you gladly.
He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape.
The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.
Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.
It was a test and you passed.
As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife.
By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.
.
What do you think hAH-
#ask kai#anon love#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#winter soldier#winter soldier smut#dark!bucky barnes x reader#dark!bucky barnes#dark!bucky x you#dark!bucky x reader#dark!bucky smut#bucky barnes x oc#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barns x reader#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky barns imagine#bucky barns x y/n#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier x you#winter soldier x y/n
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TENDER CARE. 18+
pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader
summary. you’ve been feeling insecure lately and your boyfriend, bucky knows just the way to make you feel pretty
word count. 2847
warnings. 18+ only!! hurt/comfort, reader feeling insecure, lots of hand kissing bc that shit makes me weak, kissing in general, praise, body worshiping, oral (f receiving) little bit of titty stuff, unprotected pinv sex, bucky being the best bf. minors dni
It was late, the evening quiet - the winter moon, a bright slither of silver amongst the dark blue sky.
As you lay in your bed, admiring her -the moon’s- beauty through the condensation of your window, your mind begins to drift, irrationality throwing hurdles at you. Your brain darting back and forth to those same thoughts you've been having more of lately - ones where doubt and insecurity flood any sense of logicality.
You knew you had no reason to feel this way. Your boyfriend always went to grave lengths to ensure you felt loved and appreciated, showing you nothing but tender care. Though, there was just something in your brain, that little green gremlin instilling distrust within you - no fault to him.
You felt isolated with your sense of humility, often feeling as though you didn't have someone to confide in, someone to talk to. It wasn't an easy topic to bring up, and although you felt comfortable enough with Bucky to share your mind freely, this was something that you just could not stomach.
Not only were you thinking about yourself, you were thinking of Bucky. The thought of admitting to him you felt insecure in your relationship felt like the highest form of betrayal. To confess to the man who's been torn apart and stitched together more times than one can count - that you felt unlovable, was something you couldn't bear.
The amount of hurt you would cause him simply by sharing was enough to deter you. So, for that reason alone, you kept it hidden. Letting yourself wallow in the crappy feeling unaided.
Your phone vibrates on your nightstand beside you, the screen obnoxiously bright - the white almost blinding you within your dim bedroom. Teary-eyed, you peek over at the caller ID, your boyfriend's name displayed beside his picture.
You wanted to talk to him - to hear his voice, but you knew your wavering tone would give away your dismal state. So, you let his call go to voicemail, like all his others from this evening.
Feeling guilt-ridden for declining his calls, you pick up your phone, deciding to send him a text instead. But when you unlock your phone, you see a pile of missed messages from Bucky, each text growing more and more worried at your sudden disappearance - his last one reading, 'I'll be over in 10' which was nearly ten minutes ago.
You exhale in frustration, cursing yourself as you wipe your eyes - carefully blotting the sensitive skin with one hand, the other typing a response. You decided on a small, white lie, replying, 'sorry, I was sleeping.'
The second your thumb presses send, you hear a frantic string of taps on your door - the repeated sound of knuckles knocking. You take a moment to situate yourself before making your way to your front entrance, socked feet paddling over to answer.
You peek through the peephole, your boyfriend on the other side - visibly distressed as he rakes through the front strands of his hair. You reach for the handle, unlocking the door with an expression you were sure to be disgrace. "I'm so sorry. I was in—" you start.
"Are you okay? You didn't answer. I got worried— I thought something happened," Bucky cuts you off, walking past you and stepping into your apartment.
You close the door behind him, turning to meet his frazzled features. "I know, I know. I'm really sorry. My phone was on silent, and I was in bed. I didn't see anything til just now," you confess, sharing parts of the truth.
He deeply exhales, gaze softening as he looks over you. He pauses, seeming like he's analysing you, eyes honing in on your evading ones. "What's wrong?"
You knew your gag would be up sooner or later, but you didn't expect it to be this soon. Sometimes, it was like your boyfriend knew things about you before you even did yourself - as though you failed to remember who you were talking to.
"Nothing," you smile, kissing his cheek as you step past him. "Just tired— didn't sleep properly."
"Yeah?" he hums, not quite believing your half-truths. He kicks off his boots and follows you into your room, soft footsteps behind you like a shadow. "How was your day?" he asks, talking like he's scoping you out.
You sit on the foot of your bed, shrugging at him dismissingly. "Same old. How was yours?"
He steps towards you, eyes darting around your room before focusing on you - everything becoming more apparent. "Fine. Good," he nods, softly groaning as he takes a crouch in front of you, kneeling on the floor between your legs so he's level with you. "What's wrong? What's going on?" he asks, eyes following you with the movement of his head, brows narrowing.
"Nothing," you reply, speaking faintly. Responding minimally in case your voice were to break.
"No?" he questions, placing a delicate hand over your knee - the palm emitting warmth onto your skin through the fabric of your pyjamas.
You shake your head, bottom lip beginning to waver under his attention.
"Then what's on your mind?" he asks gently, his tone warm and concerned.
"I told you," you avoid his eyes, looking down at your hands on your lap. "Didn't sleep well."
He sighs at your tenacity to push him away, head cocking to the side. He adjusts the stance on his knees, and your hands scramble for him - reaching out and holding onto him as if you were to stop him from leaving. Though only he wasn't leaving - he was just getting more comfortable.
"I wasn't leaving," he murmurs, slipping his hands into yours, thumb brushing over the back of your hand assuringly. "Did you think I was going to leave you?" he asks, lips lining into a faint frown.
You notice his brows tug upwards in the middle, the tell-tell sign he was beginning to think too hard. "No, I was just— I... don't know."
"Well, I'm not," he responds shortly, speaking like he was being stern with you - tough love. "Now, what's going on with you?" he asks, his grip on your hand tightening with a reassuring squeeze, the silent act encouraging you.
You inhale steadily, letting the air fill your lungs. "I haven't been feeling good."
He keeps his eyes on yours, following you. "Okay, why?" he questions shortly, wanting to get to the root of the problem as quickly as possible.
"I've been sad."
"Why?
You shrug. "I just have."
"I need more than that. Why have you been sad?"
"I don't know."
"Why?" he repeats, brows straightening.
"Because I feel... ugly."
He hesitates, his shoulders slumping at your confession, visibly digesting your words. "Ugly?" he recites, the remark leaving a foul taste on his tongue. "Honey," he lingers, softly shaking his head.
Bucky stills, his forehead creasing with what you perceive to be pity. His mouth opens as though he's going to say something, only for it to snap back shut. He faintly sighs, bringing your hand to his lips. "You know that's not true, right?" he rhetorically asks, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand.
You don't say anything, the only reply being a short exhale and an awkward smile.
"Because I think you..." he pauses, kissing another patch into your hand. "Are the prettiest," a slow smile lining his lips - an expression that's now mirroring yours.
It was so simple. Everything Bucky did to reassure you - he did with ease. Just the tiny, loving act instantly melting the tension in your mind. His care for you pushing away any sense of self-doubt.
He peppers another kiss into your hand. And another - littering a short string of them over your wrist. "Don't listen to your brain, okay? She's not always right," he murmurs, expression softening like it was reassuring his words.
"I know," you nod, weakly smiling at him. "Just—"
"Hard. I know," Bucky finishes your sentence, nodding at you understandingly.
He leans forward and places a soft kiss on the centre of your lips - his own brushing over yours sweetly, the action grounding and comforting. He pulls away first, eyes half-lidded as they glance over you, focusing on the almost pleading look on your face.
Your free hand reaches up to his face, palm enclosing his jaw as you bring him back in for a kiss - lips working over his more urgently than the time before.
"Thank you," you mumble against his mouth, merely pulling away to show your appreciation. "You're so kind to me."
His grip loosens on your hand, now sliding both up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss - tongue slipping into your mouth willingly. His lips leave yours, trailing a line of kisses along your jaw and down the side of your throat.
"Always," he murmurs, the short word muffling into your skin. Whispering, "I want to show you just how pretty you are."
A soft whine-like hum vibrates in your throat, the noise accepting his words eagerly. Your hand trails into the short strands of hair at the back of his head, fingers grazing his scalp as you hold him to the crook of your neck. Neck tilting to the side, allowing him more access to you as you reach for his jacket, pushing the fabric off his broad shoulders.
He presses a final kiss into a patch of your skin and pulls away, looking at your ever-softening features - eyes and brows growing pliant under his attention. His hands slowly roam down to the hem of your t-shirt, fingers hooking under the fabric as they lift, pulling it off your head in a steady, swift motion.
You sit in front of him, chest bare and on display in front of him, letting him take you in - not shying away like you did earlier.
Bucky remains quiet, his eyes fixed on the lewd sight before him, silently storing the image for safekeeping. He brings his hands up towards your tits, cupping under each - holding them in his palms. "So beautiful," he hums, leaning in to place a kiss on the swell below your nipple, giving his attention to each breast.
He rolls them in his strong hands, delicately playing and toying with them, thumbs skimming over your sensitive, hardening nipples, pressing kisses into the skin above. He looks up at you from between your tits, eyes full of love, full of warmth - looking up into your blissed ones with nothing adoration.
He places a hand over your middle - fingers spread wide as he nudges you backwards, silently and carefully laying you down. Your bare back against the covers with him kneeling on the floor between your spread thighs.
Barely leaning over you, he reaches up to kiss a trail over your abdomen, lips skimming along your jittering stomach as his fingers slip into the waistband of your underwear and pyjama bottoms. He pulls them down - light tugs as he drags them off your hips and down your thighs, grazing kisses over your now-exposed skin as he undresses your lower half.
Pulling the fabric off your ankles, he sets it aside, replacing the material that just covered you with kisses - lips grazing up the length of your legs, chaste pecks over your skin like he was worshipping you. The kisses trail higher and higher, reaching up to the crease between your thigh and cunt where he continues the worship, tongue faintly swiping over the skin.
Your hands worm into the roots of his dark hair, fingers locking on the shorts as you hold him to where you want him, guiding him to the needy little spot between your thighs. Chest rising and falling, inner thighs twitching as the anticipation builds in your stomach.
He situates himself in front of your pussy, lips mere inches away as he softly breathes over it - teasing you, his eyes locked on your trembling stomach above. He places a peck on the bottom of your slit. And another. Lining a stripe of kisses up your cunt til he reaches your clit where he skates past the nub, tongue skimming over it.
Hands working over your thighs and to your hips, he adjusts you, placing your legs over his shoulders - letting them drape freely over his blades as he delves in deeper between your thighs, caressing your plushy folds with his lips and tongue.
You murmur the first half of his name only to be cut off by a whine, the desperate noise catching in your throat when he nips at your clit, his lips wrapping around the mound - tongue skillfully flickering across.
The noises he muffles are lewd and obscene - gruff, soft groans as he adulates your pussy, pushing his mouth in closer. Your fingers tug tighter on his roots at the consuming feeling, back lifting from the bed in an arch, mindlessly grinding your cunt into his face.
Within minutes, you become a twitching, moaning pile of mush, coating his chin with your slick as you cum - thighs clamping around Bucky's head between.
He places a final kiss on your pubic bone before pulling away, standing up with a chubbed-up cock in his pants, the area tenting after tasting you. You hold his gaze, looking up at him with blissed eyes and a stir in your stomach - the sight of him making your cunt twitch.
He wipes the wet from his chin on the back of his hand, briskly drying his stubble before undressing his lower half - tugging down on his combat pants and boxers, letting the material pool around his ankles as his cock springs free. Full length hard and ready, tip leaking precum.
You scooch up your bed, resting flat with your head on the pillow, eagerly awaiting him. Your thighs instinctively spread as he crawls up the bed and between your legs, slotting his lower half between you - anchoring his weight on his hands either side of your head.
He leans in to kiss you, making you taste yourself on his tongue, the residual creamy slick transferring onto your own. Cock absentmindedly rubbing up against your pussy, the faint friction making you whimper into his mouth.
Your hands hook into the hem of his t-shirt, fingers gripping the bottom of the fabric as you guide it up his back, pulling it over his head as you break the kiss - his chest now bare and up against yours.
Balancing on his left metal hand, he dips the other between you, reaching for his cock, wrapping his fingers around the base. He gives himself a few short strokes, guiding his head towards you - pushing his tip through the slick of your folds, coating his cock in your wetness before sinking into you.
You take him at your own pace, walls fluttering and loosening around his shaft as he eases more of himself into you - your pussy swallowing little bits of him at a time. Your hand paws at his wrist placed on your hip, fingers enveloping around the thickness, silently pleading and begging him to get closer.
He looks down at the lewd sight of you spread out in front of him: your brows knitted, eyes soft, lips bitten - natural, unadulterated beauty all desperate and malleable for him. He notices the bliss cloud in your eyes and gives your glistening, stuffed pussy a final once over before hovering back over you, chest lingering above yours.
His lips skim over your jaw, trailing even more kisses down the side of your throat, giving you easing, reassuring pecks as he slips more of his cock into you - distracting you from the dull ache.
"You are so beautiful," he whispers into your skin, sealing the compliment with a kiss. "You really are," he adds, pressing kisses into your shoulder. "I don't know how you don't see it."
You bend at the knee, holding it at his side - the new angle opening your hips wider, allowing that last bit of his cock to slide in, head hitting at the hilt. You keep him snug to you, arms lazily wrapped around his neck, your other leg entangling with his as your lips shadow each other.
The moonlit room fills with soft, wet clicking - the sound of your pussy and sticky skin hitting cuts through the bliss-filled noises that slip past both of your lips, lewd noises surrounding you in the dark.
Bucky pulls his forehead from the crook of your neck to look down at you, eyes hinting at something - like his mind was temporarily elsewhere.
"Earlier," he starts, his voice hoarse as his hips wind into you, cock rubbing your walls so nicely. "When you said that thing," he adds, following your eyes when they bashfully divert away. "You tell me when you feel like that... I'd be happy to remind you just how pretty you are."
a/n. I had an idea for myself, what?? and my first full fic in almost a year??
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky x reader#bucky x reader smut#bucky x female reader#bucky smut#bucky barnes comfort#james bucky barnes#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier smut
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The Chase
Summary// "we had a deal, my dove. You promised."
AU// WinterSoldier!Bucky x F!Reader
Warnings// chasing kink, unprotected sex, smut, a yank to the hair, cursing, use of petnames- dove, dovey
Note// I think I'm a little rusty, but I'm also beyond tired rn so it could also be that ehsudienaua. This is a part two to the Black Mail fic I did for kinktober many moons ago
"Who is he?" He was everywhere. His gruff voice echoing through the trees, surrounding you as you frantically looked around. Trying to find a way out of this situation. "I don't share, dove."
He was right behind you, your legs working before your mind to carry you in the opposite direction. Lungs burning from the cold night air as his dark chuckle faded in the distance.
But, he was quick and quiet. Moving just as fast as you could look over your shoulder before slamming into what could only be described as a wall of pure muscle, sending you falling back onto the leaf covered ground.
"Please- James, please. I'm sorry." You pleaded, tears stinging your eyes as he stood over you. The same mask Hydra forced him to wear covering the lower portion of his face.
He kneeled down, denim blues dark with something you couldn't place. "I won't ask again. Who. Is. He."
"Your way out! Please, just let me go. I still have a week!" The metal of his left hand gleamed in the moonlight as he reached his hand out to grasp your chin. Pupils blown and touch gentle.
"I'll give you a headstart. You have three minutes, dovey." You just stared at him wide eyed, chest heaving and heart hammering against your ribcage. "Run."
As if on instinct, you scrambled to your feet, trying to find your footing to dart back into the darkness the trees provided.
You knew you couldn't go much longer, your aching muscles sending pains through your legs each time your feet would hit the ground. There was no use in running anyways, he'd always win.
"We had a deal, my dove. You promised." You swore you could hear the grit of his teeth when you'd stopped, so close to giving in as you leaned your forehead against the rough bark of a nearby tree. Fingers curving against the wood. "You're just like them."
"No, I'm not." You heaved, trying to take a moment to catch your breath.
"I saw you with him at that diner. You're suppose to be mine."
His voice was getting closer, making you bite down on the inside of your cheeks to take some of the attention away from the burning in your legs before taking off again.
Though, you didn't make it far before fingers curled in the back of your hair. Crying out when he barely yanked to make you stop.
"I was doing what I was told. You want out, I have to find someone who can do that." You tried to reason, words not coming easy from the way he had your head craned back. His warm right arm snaking around your waist to pull you against him.
"Lies." He seethed, calloused fingers slipping under your shirt. "I've dreamt of you. Craved you. Now I finally have you again. I've been so cold without you my sweet dove."
Your body gave in the moment nimble fingers flicked the button of your pants open.
There was something twisted inside of you that liked the chase, the constant looming feeling you'd had over the weeks since you'd last seen him- like he was just lying in wait for the right moment.
It was hard to think of much else than the last time you'd saw him. The drag of his fingers against your skin, the way his lips seared kisses to your throat- much like now, cold and warm hands dragging against your sides as your fingers worked at the tactical belt that kept you from what you were truly after.
The ground freezing against your bare back not slowing you from getting what you craved.
It seemed to take ages for James to notice your struggle, his hands replacing your own to easily pull open the buckle as yours went to unclip the mask. Carelessly tossing it into the leaves to pull his lips to yours.
The hunger behind his kiss fueled you, your fingers weaving through his long locks and legs going around his waist to pull him closer. Swallowing breaths and quiet grunts as his hand fumbled to grasp his shaft.
The shudder that rolled through your body as he pressed into you was enough to send your mind reeling, everything else around you fading away and your senses overwhelmed by only him as he found his pace. Short, hard thrusts rocking your body- sending shocks of pure pleasure shooting down your legs.
You'd missed how full he made you feel. An emptiness left behind in his absence, his touch electric as he groped at your chest and left sloppy kisses along your throat. Deep moans vibrating against the skin, mixing with your whines in the cold night air.
"Can feel you milking me, dovey. Make a mess, show me who I belong to." James panted, drinking in the pleasure drunk scrunch of your face as your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer.
Wedging his arm under you for a better angle, he didn't change his pace. Taking the opportunity to slot his lips over yours when you cried out in bliss, swallowing the sultry sound as your cunt clamped around him. His hips jerked forward at the feeling, the swirling sensation at his base building until he couldn't take it anymore- spilling into you with a huffed grunt.
The warmth of his body was quickly replaced with the night air, goosebumps prickling your skin as you whined in response. The dull ring in your ears making it hard to focus as you found your jeans to redress.
"One more week, dove. Better hurry."
#bucky x reader#bucky imagine#bucky fanfic#bucky#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes marvel#bucky barnes#bucky barns imagine#ws!bucky#ws!bucky smut#winter soldier!bucky barnes#winter soldier smut#winter soldier x reader#chasing kink#bucky barnes smut
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Your Daddy Did It Better
──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────
summary | James Barnes Jr, or JJ as the world calls him, doesn’t quite know how to treat a woman. Luckily for you though, his daddy sure does
warnings | smut, age gap (reader is in her 20's), riding, couch sex, light drinking, billionaire!bucky, oral (f. receiving), bucky gives the reader a facial if you know what i mean, 18+ ONLY
this fic is eighteen plus. minors please do not enter
divider by @princessbellecerise
James Steven Barnes was a fucking asshole.
You suspect that he may have gotten that trait from his father, Bucky; but even in the few times you had met the billionaire, he had never acted quite as douchy as his son did.
The Bucky Barnes that you knew and grew up seeing in tabloids was at least respectful after he got done with women, and at least had the decency to tell them that it was over to their face before he moved on.
Unfortunately though, it seemed somewhere along the lines he forgot to pass that trait onto his son, which was precisely the reason you were fuming and stopping your way through Barnes Tower, fists nearly ripping the paper of the magazine due to your death grip.
Anger coursed through your veins as you thought about the front page, which showed your supposed ‘boyfriend’ front and center at a Knick’s game with some model that was way too old for him. But, there was no doubt that she was beautiful.
You couldn’t lie; that was part of the reason you were salty. But the other part was because you had just seen JJ two days ago, and he made no mention to tell you that whatever you guys had was over. Nor that he was already back on the market.
He didn’t even have the decency to send you a text, so, after staring at the picture for a while and slightly crying your eyes out, anger began to replace your sadness and you came up with a plan.
Sure it wasn’t the best of plans, and sure you may be a little out of your mind, barging into the most elite building in New York. But you need to confront him, face-to-face. And since you still had your keycard JJ had given you since he was too lazy to come to your apartment, you marched right on in the tower like it was your own home.
The elevator dinged and your high heels clicked against the polished tiles, your eyes blazing as you made your way across the floor.
The fancy decor that you usually marveled at was the last thing on your mind. You were on a mission, and nothing was going to stop you. Nothing was going to get in the way of you laying into JJ, or possibly throwing the magazine at his head. You were going to make him pay and not even security was going to get in your way, if he called them.
You would only leave this building kicking and screaming, you decided. And if JJ tried to kick you out, well then—
“Oof!”
Your whirlwind of thoughts were suddenly cut off when a figure smacked into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs and almost knocking you over until hands reached out to grab you. They wrapped around your figure and pulled you close so that you wouldn’t hit the floor. Shocked, a gasp left your lips, and you quickly held onto whoever it was, your fingers digging into the expensive material of their suit.
For a moment, you thought that it was JJ that caught you and anger bubbled in your stomach. After all, the tufts of dark-haired you saw were exactly the same shade, and his build felt roughly the same.
But when the person set you back on your feet, it only took you a second to realize that it was not JJ that caught you.
It was his dad.
“Bucky!”
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, as did his while you both stared at each other. Not really sure what to do, Bucky let go of you, and he awkwardly cleared his throat while you shuffled back.
“Y/N,” He said, equally shocked. “I wasn’t…expecting you today. Is everything alright?”
His light blue eyes glanced you over and while you didn’t seemed to be dressed in any kind of date attire, he was under the assumption that you were there for JJ. He knew that your relationship with his son was mostly physical, but Bucky still hoped he raised him well enough to at least treat you to a date every once in a while.
“No, no everything is not okay,” Is what you wanted to tell him. “Your son is an absolute asshole.”
The words were so close from falling from your lips, but you held back, pressing them together so you wouldn’t say something you’d regret. It was already bad enough that JJ probably didn’t want you there, you didn’t need his dad trying to kick you out too. So you held it together and tried to make it look like you weren’t crying just a few minutes before, tilting your head away from Bucky and focusing your eyes on the floor as you spoke.
“Everything’s fine,” You said, your voice a little weak but normal nevertheless. “I was just…I was just looking for JJ. Have you seen him?”
Bucky reeled back in surprise once again. “JJ?” He repeated your question and answered before you could even confirm what you said. “No honey, I’m afraid JJ isn’t here. I think he went to see a basketball game or something. I would’ve thought…I did think you were going with him.”
So he didn’t know.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying not to start crying again as you slowly shook your head.
“We broke up,” You said, unfortunately having to break the news to him. Bucky’s eyes widened. “He…He went to that basketball game with some other chick, and I came here to hopefully confront him. I…”
Wordlessly, you held out the magazine for Bucky to grab, and he did. His blue eyes scanned the paper, eyebrows furrowing together until eventually, anger settled on his face.
He looked at the cover of the magazine and noted that the girl was not, in fact, you. Bucky had never seen her in his life. As a matter of fact, he was pretty sure JJ had never met her either, which made the situation even worse.
He sighed, lowering the magazine to look at you. When he did, that’s when Bucky finally realized that you had started crying, even though you tried your best to hide it from him.
“Oh doll.”
“I’m sorry,” You instinctively tried to move away from him as he reached out, attempting to comfort you. But you just thought he was trying to pity you, shame festering inside of you as you sobbed quietly.
You didn’t want to cry, but seeing how his own father reacted made you think that JJ really was an asshole.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry it’s just—”
“Hey,” Bucky reached out to gently tug you towards him, and somehow you found yourself crying in his arms as he shook his head and wrapped you in his embrace. Your tears stained his Tom Ford suit, your mascara no doubt ruining the expensive fabric. But Bucky didn’t seem to mind as he awkwardly held you close, letting you cry into his chest like many other young ladies had before you. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I know.”
“It’s just that,” You sniffle, pulling away with tears still your cheeks, “It’s just that we were together only just two days ago and I can’t believe he—I can’t believe he just ditched me like that. Like what the fuck man? Who raised you?”
Bucky slightly chuckled as you shook your head, disbelief settling on your face. You wiped your tears, your hands coming back stained but at the moment you didn’t care.
You were heartbroken, and you hated to admit it but you really did like JJ. Despite knowing the type of guy he was rumored to be, you thought you’d just give him a chance. You thought you’d give him an opportunity to prove that everyone was wrong about him. JJ wasn’t an asshole. He was just a typical rich kid that had everything at his disposal. Sure he went through girls quick, but you never once thought he’d dispose of you.
Not like this. Not to the point where you were crying in front of his father as Bucky looked at you sympathetically.
“Welp, not my proudest parenting moment,” He admitted, “But the kid does have his way of charming people. I honestly thought he would use it for good as he got older. You know for like business and stuff? But it seems the more he grows up, the more broken hearts he leaves in his trail.”
“Huh. Well I guess that makes him just like his father then,” You chuckled bitterly through your sniffles, causing Bucky to laugh little bit. The sound took you by surprise, not expecting him to laugh over your dig. But you liked the way it sounded: soft, but mature. Everything that a man should’ve been. Everything that his son should’ve been.
“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Bucky shrugged. “But believe me—I never once raised him to act like this. I wanted him to be better, you know? But I guess eventually, everyone goes down their own path.”
“You should cut him off then,” You quickly suggested, before you could even stop the words coming from your mouth. “If you cut him off, he can’t charm girls anymore and he most certainly won’t be sitting courtside with anymore models.”
You were dead serious, but this—this was what caused Bucky to double over in laughter, clutching his stomach and letting out a hearty, genuine laugh. He shook his head at you, pointing his index finger, and you couldn’t lie, you laughed too. After all, who just goes around telling rich dads to cut off their entitled sons? Not enough people apparently, because there were still a plethora of entitled sons out there.
Bucky may have thought JJ was one, but after losing his mother, he was all he had. You suppose you understood why Bucky kept enabling him in that way, but it still made you no less salty that he got to live the good life while everybody else around him got left in the dust.
“You,” Amusement danced in Bucky’s eyes as he chuckled some more before finally sobering up, pressing his lips. “You’re funny.” He said like it was a compliment. “You…you’ve got a sense a humor, I’ll tell you that sweetheart. Not a lot of girls my son brings home actually have a decent personality.”
“What can I say? It’s probably the reason he ditched me,” You said.
“Probably,” Bucky agreed. “Unfortunately, he doesn’t do well with actual conversation. As a father, it’s a little embarrassing when your son goes for beauty instead of brains and beauty.”
“Oh, is that what you think I have?” You teased him slightly, your mood beginning to pick up a little. Bucky nodded. “Well, you’d think if I was smart, I wouldn’t go after somebody with an obvious track record.”
“Well we can all be dazzled by the charm,” Bucky said, staring intensely. “But you gotta know that eventually, all of that stuff goes away and in a few years time he’ll realize how stupid he was to let you go. Trust me, beauty fades fast and when that’s all you have in common with someone, most relationships tend to not to last long.”
“So what you’re saying is JJ’s gonna break up with the model?” You questioned.
“…Eventually,” Bucky hesitated to say, “But for now, she’s young. So he’s gonna be all over her like white on rice.”
“Bucky! What the fuck— you are not helping!”
Instinctively, you reached out to shove his shoulder which caused Bucky to be even more surprised. But he could see the smile tugging at your lips, hear the playfulness in your voice as you said this, so he laughed even harder.
He appreciated someone joking around with him without being all cautious about his titles. Bucky didn’t know what it was, but something about the way you seemed to just relax around him made him happy. It made him inch forward, taking a cautious step while you watched him.
“Oh yeah?” He challenged quietly, and you never took your eyes off of him as he stepped as close as he could. “Well then do tell me Miss L/N,” Bucky copied your playfulness, “What would help you get over my son?”
The tone of his voice made you shiver slightly, as did the closeness of his body. You just now realized it, but Bucky’s eyes were awfully brown, so dark that you found yourself almost getting lost in them. You felt like your world was swirling as you looked inside of those mischievous brown eyes, but yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to look away.
Daring to be bold, you stepped closer, and Bucky was nearly on the floor when suddenly you crained your head up, put your lips straight to his ear and whispered,
“How about a drink, Mr. Barnes?”
“And then I said: I thought you were smaller!”
You laugh loudly as Bucky very proudly told you the story of how he reunited with his best friend Steve, the man JJ had also been named after. It was sort of a sad story, but you didn’t know that because Bucky left out all the bad parts. He just wanted to make you laugh and was just glad to see that you were entertained nonetheless.
It was a stark contrast to the way you had shown up on his doorstep only an hour ago. Now, your tears were replaced by laughter, your frown with a large grin, and there were no longer any traces of anger on your face. You were only content as you sipped on your drink, playing into all the jokes and shenanigans Bucky had presented you with.
Honestly, hanging out with him had been pretty fun and you had no fucking clue how it all started but you weren’t complaining as you downed your drink. This was your first one, so you weren’t even tipsy, just relaxed enough to have a good time. It also helped push away the feeling that maybe hanging out with your ex’s father wasn’t such a good idea.
Nonsense though, your brain had told you multiple times, because Bucky was funny, charming and most importantly: he was nothing like his son.
As he entertained you, you began to see less and less how JJ could even be related to a man like this. A man so confident and hilarious, and just so sure of himself. It was like every move Bucky made, he made with a purpose. He did it because he knew exactly the reaction he would get from someone. He was so perceptive, and he picked up that you needed cheering up, so he kept making a fool out of himself just to make you laugh.
And honestly, you were beginning to question why you ever wasted your time on JJ in the first place. When clearly, you had chosen the wrong Barnes.
The thought had struck you several times in the last hour, but you never once entertained it, refusing to give your brain that satisfaction. You told yourself that Bucky was just being nice inviting you for a drink. That he just felt bad and didn’t want you stumbling home angry and sad.
You told yourself that it was better for him that you didn’t come looking for his son again. But…a part of you wanted to believe there were other reasons.
It only made heart your pound faster as he began to speak again.
“Man. I swear I can never get enough of telling that story,” He said cheekily, leaning back on his fancy sofa. The suit that he was wearing crinkled, and the scotch in his hand swirled before he took a sip of it.
You admired him.
You admired anybody that could drink straight liquor, because Lord knows you couldn’t. Lord knows not even his own son could, which made you snort at the thought.
“Well, it is a wonderful story Mr. Barnes,” You told him, swirling your own drink. “I’m sure it was even better to witness all those years ago.”
“Oh, come on now darling. Don’t make it seem like I’m a fossil,” Bucky waved you off, and you couldn’t deny the way your stomach fluttered at the nickname. It made you feel something that you hadn’t felt before; an emotion that you desperately wanted to push down but was rising the more time you spent with Bucky.
Desire was beginning to creep into your veins, and it didn’t help that you had certainly took notice of just how handsome Mr. Barnes was, and just how good that three-piece suit clung to his body. You began to wonder things that you should most definitely not be wondering. But still, it was like your brain produced the thoughts on its own and you couldn’t help but think that Bucky looked sexy all relaxed like that.
You curled your lips, and you knew you were beginning to get yourself into trouble. You sipped your drink once again.
“Oh, trust me. The last thing I’m calling you is old Mr. Barnes,” You retorted kindly. Bucky looked up as a smirk began to form on your cheeks. “In fact, you’re probably one of the youngest people I know in spirit, most definitely. It seems that even though the years have passed, they haven’t yet caught up with you. And well, you’re pretty spry for an older fella.”
You batted your lashes at him, causing Bucky to sputter a little bit. A mischievous look grew in your eyes, and when you winked at him something began to stir inside of him.
Perhaps it was your humor, or the way you knew just when to be sarcastic and when to be genuine, just like him. Maybe it was that that drew him towards you, making Bucky sit up a little bit as he studied you.
With blue eyes observing everything, Bucky noted that you were young, yes, but you certainly weren’t new to the world, nor ignorant of it. From what you had told him, you were in grad school and had experienced heartbreak and failure. And though you weren’t nearly as old or mature as he was, Bucky could sense that you definitely were years above your own peers.
Years above his own son, which Bucky began to question if he really was his son, if he had passed up a woman like this.
A woman so easy to get along with that he didn’t even notice it was beginning to approach two hours since you had been there.
“Spry?” Bucky rose an eyebrow and chose to ignore the thought that you might need to go home soon. Nodding your head, Bucky laughed at your words.
“Oh very spry indeed Mr. Barnes. In fact, I bet you could run me and outlive me,” You giggled.
“Well…” Bucky pretended to be in thought before carefully shoving off his blazer, flexing his biceps which made the most unholy of thoughts come into your mind. “I suppose I do lift a little on the side. Mostly when I’m not busy with meetings, but I mean the biceps speak for themselves, don’t they?”
“I suppose they do.” You sipped on your wine so that Bucky couldn’t see how bothered you had gotten. Your legs crossed, your body language beginning to change. Something stirred in the pit of your stomach, causing you to shift slightly.
You could still see his biceps peeking out from under his shirt even with him not flexing. It made your mouth just the tiniest bit dry as Bucky looked at you.
He didn’t want you to go home, but he knew that it was entering the odd hours of the morning and the last thing he needed was paparazzi photographing a young woman leaving his tower this late. Not to mention a young woman that had been seen with this son. Oh, Bucky realized the scandal it would cause and decided he was way past those days.
So, a plan began to form in his mind.
Maybe you didn’t have to leave, he told himself. Maybe…maybe you could stay after all. He thought about this, and then before he could stop himself, Bucky began to speak.
“You know…it’s getting kind of late.” He tried to sound as casual as possible without his words sounding rehearsed. Immediately, you perked up, worrying that he may kick you out. But luckily, it was just the opposite. “I know JJ once told me you lived a little ways out of town. A far walk I imagine; and getting an Uber probably won’t be easy. I’m sure you know this by now, but this tower has a lot of rooms. Why don’t you take one for the night and rest up here? You can leave first thing in the morning but I’d just hate to see a young lady be out on the streets of New York by herself.”
At this, you couldn’t stop the smile that made its way over your face, nor the laugh of delight as you found yourself eagerly accepting Bucky’s proposal.
“Yes. I think that sounds fair. Thank you, Mr. Barnes. For being so kind.”
“Yeah.”
Was that what it was? Bucky truly being kind, or was he only letting you stay for his own selfish intentions?
Probably both honestly. But truly, Bucky knew he wasn’t a bad enough person to expect you to do anything for him in return. His thoughts may have been running wild, but he wasn’t so bad as to bribe a young girl like that. Not that he had to, because you were already halfway on that road before you even stood up.
When you did though, you were suddenly reminded of how long it had been since you had drank and you couldn’t stop the woozy feeling in your head as you set the glass down. Bucky caught you once again before you hit the floor, your nausea causing you to trip over the expensive carpet. You landed in his arms almost like a fairytale. Your eyes met his, and you could see the worry that spread in them.
“Are you all right?” He asked.
It was a simple question. So, so simple that you should’ve just been able to answer with ‘yes’ and been done with it. You should’ve been, but somehow you just couldn’t. Somehow all the decency and all the warning bells that told you this was not a good idea suddenly left your mind. All of a sudden, you were lucid but you didn’t even feel like it as you leaned up and did something you never in a million years thought you would’ve done.
You kissed Bucky.
You don’t know what the hell got into you. Truly, you didn’t. You didn’t know whether it was the alcohol, sheer stupidity, or just a fuck-this-I’m-going-for-it mentality. But whatever it was, it had you kissing Bucky Barnes like it was your last day on this earth, your head spinning from how hard you pressed your lips to his.
Your lips were on his, and honestly it took Bucky more time than he’d like to admit to do something about it. At first, he just stood there a little bit confused. He didn’t register that you were kissing him until you tried to move your mouth and he just…stood still. He didn’t register that you…that you wanted him until you suddenly pulled away with slight panic on your face.
“Oh my God,” You said in realization, “Bucky I’m so—”
Bucky didn’t even let you finish the sentence, because the fuck-it mentality embraced him too and suddenly you were both carefree as you swapped spit.
Bucky had his mouth on yours, and you were kissing him with so much passion and oh my God you were so young and this was so wrong but the man couldn’t find it in himself to stop.
Despite everything in his brain telling him that this was a bad idea, his body simply would not allow him to listen, too engrossed by the feeling of your soft lips.
Cherry Chapstick—that’s what you had been wearing. But Bucky was sure that by the time he was done with you, that taste would be nothing but a fleeting memory. He pressed his tongue out to try to get some more of it, and that’s when his tongue started to slip into your mouth. Gasping, you let him in and that’s when your bodies began to fall back onto the couch.
Bucky landed first with a small grunt, and with this new sitting position you were able to straddle his lap and hook your legs on either side of him.
Bucky’s arms then came to wrap around your waist, wasting no time to explore your body—regrettably through your clothes. You had been wearing a simple skirt and top, but even that felt like too much as Bucky suddenly became desperate to get underneath them.
A hot desire developed over you both, and you couldn’t stop yourself from suddenly breaking the kiss, putting your hands on his nice blazer, and tearing it off with ease. You threw it somewhere in the corner that you didn’t quite care about, looking at Bucky for only a second before devouring his lips once again.
He tasted like scotch and cigars, the pinnacle of maturity in your opinion. He was so experienced and the thought of all the things he could show you, all the ways he could make you feel suddenly made you groan and start to grind on his lap.
Bucky panted into your mouth as he felt your warm heat moving against him, the perfectly tailored pants suddenly feeling too tight as his erection grew bigger.
You were greedy as you drank him in, like Bucky was the sweetest nectar you had ever tasted. And now that you had gotten a sample, you couldn’t get enough.
You were insatiable as you eventually managed to get his button down shirt off, feeling him slip his own hands under your clothes.
He felt your soft, hot skin and squeezed, liking the way you jumped in his arms. He never once broke the kiss, liking the taste of your mouth far too much. But that didn’t mean Bucky couldn’t explore other areas with his hands, and before you knew it, he had his hands touching all over your body and leaving fire in its wake.
You wiggled a little bit as Bucky traveled lower and lower, eventually jumping again when he made contact with your cotton panties.
Bucky smiled into your mouth, satisfaction flooding his veins when he noticed your arousal had already dampened them.
Slowly, you began to grind a little bit on his hand and Bucky groaned as the sensation of it all made him feel like he was burning up. He felt like if he didn’t do something now, he would literally burst into flames. So, as much as he loved the taste of your mouth, he decided he needed something more than that.
Pulling away from you, a trail of spit dribbled down your chin and coated the frown that you were now sporting. You didn’t wanna pull away from him, but Bucky reassured you with his eyes that what he had planned was much better.
He tapped on your thighs and pushed on your chest a little bit, letting you know that he wanted you to lay down.
Excitement flooded your veins as your back suddenly hit the couch, your shirt pulled almost all the way up and your skirt flipped.
Bucky could see nothing but your stomach and your cotton covered pussy, choosing these two things to focus on as he got on his knees on the couch.
He hovered over you, and at first, you thought he was going to kiss you again until suddenly, his head dipped down. You moaned as his hands begin to massage your breasts, the feeling of his touch driving you crazy. Even though it was only through your clothes, you began to squirm; pushing down on his hips with your foot so that Bucky quickly got the message.
“Wow. Eager are we?” He smirked, and the whine that you let out went away as quickly as it came, when Bucky suddenly yanked your bra down.
You were sure that the front straps had broken, but that was the last thing you cared about. You were only focused on his plump lips that were headed towards your breast. And sure enough, Bucky finally made the first contact with your body when he wrapped his lips around your sensitive bud. Th action caused you to moan out, quickly running your fingers through his hair as he licked, sucked, circled the bud with his tongue.
Skilled he was, because you swore you had never gotten this much pleasure from a man sucking on your tits. Sure many had tried, but it never felt like this. It never felt like actual pleasure until now, Bucky’s tongue working miracles.
Honestly, it made you wonder just what else he could do. And as if he could read your mind, Bucky suddenly abandoned your nipples and trailed his mouth further down your body. At first, you wanted to protest at the lack of stimulation. But the feeling was quickly replaced when Bucky got rid of your panties in one swift pull. He looked you in the eye, and you could see his smirk as he took in your pouty lips, the way your chest heaved and the way your eyes got wide. He took in how fucking gorgeous you looked but man — he bet you sounded even better.
It was this thought that lead Bucky to finally dip his head where you needed him to be; you letting out the sweetest of moans as his lips attached to your clit.
Bucky pleasured you in a way that most boys your age refused to even consider. They never seemed to consider what women actually wanted, but Bucky knew. And damn, did he know it well.
He took your clit in between his teeth and gently grazed over it, teasing you and enjoying the way your hips bucked against him. He had to hold you down before he really got started on you, and when he did, and there was nobody on this earth that could convince Bucky that what the two of you were doing was wrong.
So what if you had dated his son. His son was stupid; even Bucky could see that now.
JJ was beyond stupid to pass up this gorgeous woman, who tasted just as sweet as she looked. Who tasted so fucking good that Bucky lapped and sucked up every little dribble of arousal that you had. He sucked on your clit and even began to use his fingers, absolutely determined to taste you and your entirety. Nothing in life had ever enticed Bucky more, except for maybe the sounds that you were making.
Man, did you sound absolutely gorgeous as you wiggled and thrashed, but never quite fully pulled away from his pleasure. Man, did you look so sexy with your head thrown back, eyes closed, and lips parted. Bucky swore he never saw a better site in his life, which egged him to pump his fingers even faster. He was determined, determined to make you cum on his tongue and determined to show you that this was how a real man pleasured a woman. A real man always put her satisfaction before his, which was why Bucky wasn’t even gonna fuck you until you had came at least once.
And fuck—did you.
You swear you had never screamed louder in your life, your body shaking as you came all over Bucky’s expensive suit and couch. You were crying out from the almost abusive pleasure, but not once did Bucky remove his mouth from your pussy. Not until he was sure he had gotten every last drop.
He wanted to taste everything that he could. Every little part of you; and when he succeeded at that he then wanted you to taste yourself.
He wanted for you to know how sweet and absolutely incredible you were.
He brought his mouth back up to latch his lips on yours, and it wasn’t long before your tongue was tangled with his. Bucky got what he wanted when you suddenly squeaked, surprised at how you tasted. It was indeed sweet—thanks to you prioritizing fruit in your diet. Bucky almost chuckled at the way your eyes flew open, but he was too busy breaking the quick kiss to pull down the last bit of clothing that separated the two of you.
It seemed like he couldn’t get those damn panties off fast enough—you giggling and offering to help when he cursed more than enough times.
Bucky leaned over you and, while you worked on your underwear, he began to focus on his own. He unbuckled his belt, yanked down his pants, and freed himself from the torture that was that damn suit.
Now that you were both naked, you eyed his erection deliciously as you both suddenly set up.
It wasn’t like you were a virgin, so you both silently agreed there was no need to take it easy in missionary. So, you got on top of Bucky and hooked your legs over his once again.
A silent glance was shared between the two of you just moments before you sank down on Bucky’s cock, pressing your hips until there was nothing left out except his balls. They pressed against your ass and reminded you of how deep he truly was, how absolutely delicious it felt to have him sheathed inside of you.
Bucky let out a sigh of content, and it wasn’t long before you had him moaning, standing on your toes and lightly bouncing yourself on his cock.
Fuck—you sure did know how to make a man come quick, seeing as you were currently squeezing the dear life out of Bucky. He could barely keep it together as your walls sucked him in, it having been a while since he fucked somebody this tight.
But tight you were, and young—though he’d never guess it by the way you rode him like a pro. You swirled your hips, placing your hand on his chest to steady yourself and then kept bouncing. Up and down your tits went, mesmerizing Bucky almost as much as your pussy did.
You yourself were just enticing, if there ever was a word for it.
Bucky wasn’t quite sure how he’d let you go after this, or if he even wanted to. The feeling of you wrapped around him was definitely something he could get used to, so he tried not to think about that and focused on the present.
He focused on the way you moaned and clenched around him. On the way your pussy squelched every time you bounced yourself up on your feet. He focused on your eyes, staring at him intensely, and then your lips as he leaned in to capture them.
Due to his swift kiss, you had lost your pace, but that was all right because Bucky decided to take over then. He held you close, and then he bucked his hips upwards, fucking into you at a rapid pace. You moaned into his mouth, and Bucky could feel your ass jiggling, your tits bouncing as he pounded into you. He could feel the way your stomach was beginning to clench again, a telling sign of yet another orgasm.
He smirked, satisfied when you started to grip him for dear life. Not even a few seconds later, you did, in fact, cream all over him with a small cry.
The mess on his couch and on his thighs was inevitable, but as Bucky reached his own high, he thought it best not to dirty up his furniture anymore.
Instead, as the pit in his stomach finally grew to its peak, he suddenly pulled out of you and got you on your knees, cumming on your face right as you opened your mouth.
Eagerly, you let the hot ropes paint your face and even swallowed some with a grin on your lips. You couldn’t open your eyes to see the pleasure that you had caused Bucky, but you could hear him groaning, the sound of him jacking off invading your ears until there was nothing else left to decorate your face.
He smiled in satisfaction, loving the way that you had been the one to bring him to his wits end and it wasn’t long before you could see Bucky again.
He retrieved his extremely expensive shirt and used it to wipe off your face, you giving him a giggle as your vision became clearer. You stuck out your tongue, showing him evidence that you had swallowed the bit of cum that had gotten on your lips.
Bucky chuckled, and it was at that moment he realized that yes, his son was an idiot for letting you go.
He’d be damned if he made the same mistake.
BONUS
You made your way into your chemistry class, not even bothered by JJ’s presence as you passed him. In fact, the last thing you were thinking of was that Barnes, seeing as the remnants of his father still lingered just underneath your shirt.
Had it been any more see-through, you would’ve had a reason to be extremely smug as JJ made his way over to you with his friends snickering in the background.
You knew they were talking about you, but you barely paid attention to any of them until suddenly, the youngest Barnes was standing beside you with his arms crossed.
“Yes?”
You looked up at him, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say he was annoyed by your lack of reaction. Your indifference towards him and the model situation clearly bothered him, which made you wanna smirk but you didn’t.
“Well you certainly don’t look bothered,” He commented, casually leaning against your desk. You rolled your eyes, but you weren’t too irritated until he began tapping his pencil on your table.
“Well that’s because I had a pretty good weekend — besides the fact that you ditched me,” You snapped, trying to push him away.
But JJ didn’t budge.
It was then that you remembered he was every bit as stubborn as his father was, despite being less than half the man Bucky was.
“Oops,” A sarcastic smile ghosted on JJ’s face. The bastard didn’t even have the decency to be ashamed of what he did. “I just got caught up you know; business and such.”
“Business.” You pondered on this word before you slowly turned to look at him, confidently being able to stare into his brown eyes. After all, you had found yourself growing fonder and fonder of that shade, just not on him. “That’s interesting. I didn’t know business meant going on a date with a model.”
“Super model,” He made sure to correct you, “And well, you know how it is these days. I’m a Rolling Stone; just like my daddy I hear.”
God bless him, he sounded so proud and it took everything in you not to tell him right then and there. It took every particle of self-restraint you had not to scream out to the entire university that you had fucked his dad, cause you were no longer in the mood for JJ’s childish games.
But instead — thinking of Bucky — you restrained yourself and simply offered JJ a smile.
“Well, the way I hear it, your daddy did it better,” You winked at him, and suddenly nothing in the world could seemed to bother you anymore. Knowing that you had completed the ultimate form of revenge and gained yourself a new suitor in the process put you at peace.
But unfortunately for JJ, you were just getting started.
Just you wait, asswipe. I’ll be your step mama soon enough, you thought devilishly, your phone buzzing just as the boy made his way back to his seat.
Bucky Barnes
Hey honey, you free tonight?
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#winter soldier#winter solider x reader#winter soldier smut#bucky smut
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Dirty Little Secret
Bucky x Pole Dancer!Reader
Word Count: 1.2k
Summary: Bucky's a sweetheart, but like everyone else, he's also got something to hide. And no one would expect the famed White Wolf to spend his evening as a strip club with a pretty thing he calls his.
18+ MDNI
Warnings: smut, jealous Bucky, oral (f receiving), light threat, choking kink, swearing, pussy slapping (once), light/no aftercare, light fluff near the end, no use of (Y/N)
Like and reblog if you want, thank you sm for the love on my last post <3
Everyone's taken Bucky as a gentleman, especially after the takedown of the Flag Smashers. His reputation's free of red, amends made, the biggest sweetheart. The biggest sweetheart with the dirtiest secret.
Over 70 years with no sex has got him pent up, needing release. Sure, his fist can get him off but it doesn't compare to the feeling of a warm body under his. It doesn't matter if he's giving or receiving the pleasure, he just needs sex in any form.
There's a small but well known strip club located in the heart of Brooklyn, Bucky's favorite place on Monday, Tuesday, and Friday nights, along with weekends. His pocket is always well loaded with cash, especially with the money the government is funding him as an apology for what HYDRA put him through.
But that's in the past and you, you are the present and future. You, who works Monday, Tuesday, and Friday nights, along with weekends. His favorite dancer and his favorite hookup.
This Friday night is no different as he steps foot in the pounding club, eyes scanning the sweaty crowd until they land on you, just finishing your routine on stage. You're dressed in a skimpy red piece that barely leaves anything to the imagination, knee high heels adding to the appeal. His eyes rake over your body, darkening at the various bills stuffed wherever the hands could reach. Bills that should be his. Hands that should be his.
You can practically feel his glare, eyes flitting up to meet his, calculating his expression. With a barely perceptible jerk of his head, you already know to follow him to one of the private rooms. Quickly blowing your kisses, you hurry off stage just in time to see Bucky slap a couple bills into someone's hand before they let him into the dim room, leaving the door open for you.
The moment you step foot in the room, the door slams shut behind you and you can feel him behind you, radiating anger and something else. Jealousy.
"I thought I told you to wait for me" he growled into your ear, vibranium fist clenching against the wall. His other hand comes to rest on your waist, a mockery of affection before whatever comes next.
"I did but you didn't come on time" you shrugged, the excuse sounding lame to even you. "I needed the money, you know that"
"I said I would pay you extra for your time" he retorted, plucking the bills out from your bra one by one before tossing them somewhere in the room. You barely get the chance to open your mouth to respond when you feel a cold metal hand spin you around and wrap around your throat, just barely applying pressure.
"Since you didn't wait, I don't see a point in paying you extra" he breathed out, thumb sliding up to tilt your chin up, his lips ghosting over yours. His arousal is evident against your thigh, your body shifting instinctively so he's nestled right against your core.
"I'll give you better service for more money" you offered, already sinking to your knees for him. Truth is, if you didn't need the money so desperately, you'd do anything for free for this man.
Bucky almost caved but shook his head, tugging you back up. "I don't have time" he muttered, frustrated as he checked his watch before spotting the loveseat in the corner of the room. Leading you there, he tugged you into his lap, lips meeting your eagerly as you melted into his hold. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip before you parted your lips, tongues sliding deliciously.
You were already grinding against him on instinct when he gripped your hips to stop you.
"Get on your back" he muttered, already doing the act for you as he flipped your positions and then settled on the floor to be face to face with your soaked panties.
"Already so wet for me... or is this from all those other men giving you money, hm? You don't need anything from me anymore, might as well make this our last session" he taunted, his metal hand sliding up your thigh teasingly, goosebumps following in his trail.
"No, no... no, no just you. Only you get me soaked" you whined, missing the way he smirked at your desperate words.
He let out a hum before carefully sliding your panties down your legs, tucking them in his back pocket as he spread your thighs wider. You clenched around nothing in anticipation, letting out a quiet gasp when he ran a finger up your slit, gathering your slick.
"So pretty..." he murmured, glancing at you as he kissed up your inner thighs. "So perfect"
You squirmed, almost about to beg for him to touch you when he ran his tongue through your folds, a moan tumbling past your lips as your hips canted up.
"Such a pretty pussy for a pretty girl" he smirked, tongue doing circles on your clit before he took it between his lips and sucked lightly.
"B-Bucky- ah... need more..." you moaned, fingers fisting in his hair, lips set into a pout.
"I don't think you deserve it" he chided, his flesh hand sliding under your back to pull you closer to him. "You're lucky I'm fond of you"
He slipped two metal fingers into you, curling them so they hit your sweet spot that he knew so well. His tongue worked quickly over your clit, flicking back and forth, his fingers pumping with the obscene shlick shlick shlick, already building you towards your orgasm.
"Are you gonna wait for me tomorrow instead of throwing yourself on stage for the world to see?" he asked, purposely slowing his fingers as you whined from the fading pleasure. His thumb pressed down on your clit, your hips bucking up into the pressure.
"Yes, yes I'll wait for you" you cried out when his flesh hand came down on your clit.
"Good girl" he growled before his mouth attached back onto your sensitive bundle of nerves. His fingers slipped back into your pussy, curling and pumping eagerly, your walls starting to flutter around him from the building pleasure.
One last swipe of his tongue on your clit had you unraveling, his eyes watching as your back arched off the couch, legs shaking and clamping around his head as his fingers worked you through your high. The cries of his name falling from your lips mixed in with curses and moans were heavenly. He tucked the sounds away to memory, his cock throbbing against his jeans but he could take care of that problem later.
He drew gentle circles on your clit, huffing softly when your body jerked in response to the overstimulation. You felt a couple bills flutter down onto your flushed skin, not bothering to count them when you felt him lean down next to your ear.
"If you're really worried about money, just tell me. I can cover it, doll" he said softly, brushing some hair out of your face before leaving a quick kiss on your lips.
You nodded, shifting so that you were sitting up on the couch, noticing that the bills littering your skin were hundreds.
"If you forget our agreement tomorrow, consider your orgasms also forgotten" he said casually before the door slammed shut behind him, leaving you dazed and always, always wanting more.
Part 2
#mcu bucky barnes#bucky barnes#bucky fanfic#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#winter soldier#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky fluff#bucky imagine#bucky smut#smut thoughts#bucky barns x reader#bucky barns x y/n#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky barns imagine#winter soldier smut#the white wolf#white wolf#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marvel mcu#mcu smut#marvel smut
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Edit to add: thought it saved with tw, non con, dark winter soldier
I wanna fuck the beefy winter soldier who uses me like a sex doll, just a hole to fuck. I want him to shove it in whenever he wants, fully focused on pleasuring his dick and nothing else. He’s chasing that pleasure at the tip of his pink cock that feels so good, grunting and groaning, wide touch hands holding you down in place.
Imagine he comes to finish a mission, breaking into a large mansion in the middle of the night only to find no ones home except the sweet little maid, still dressed in her tiny uniform, finishing up in the master bedroom.
You freeze on the spot, ready to beg him to spare your life as he shut the door behind him, swiftly locking it. He's programed to kill but you're evoking something new inside him. He feels pressure between his legs, his cock aching with need, a new desperate desire he needs to quench.
You know that scene with the red henley, his thick, muscular body throwing others around with 0 effort. I want that but with no clothes on. Clothes make his body feel too hot. He takes it all off when he stalks over to you, rock hard cock bobbing between his legs when he grabs and throws you over his shoulder. He might as well be an animal, precum dripping from the head down to the floor from your smell alone.
He’s absolutely unhinged.
Hasn’t had an orgasm in years.
Nearly nonverbal as he gets ready to take what he wants.
Your heart races, too scared to cry while he shoves your legs apart, groaning at your sweet scent. He tears your clothes off with his bare hands before experimentally pumping his cock, moaning at the bit of relief it gives him.
He needs more.
"P-Please-please no-Oh God!" You cry out as he shoves his cock in with one swift motion, pounding you with no remorse, grunting and panting, inhaling the scent of your perfect and something distinctly you as he snarls against your neck.
It feels so good, the serum in his veins making his cock swell with each thrust, thick drops of precum already marking you from the inside. His sole focus is to get rid of the achy feeling in his dick by using you, wanting to stop the heavy feeling in his balls. They're too heavy, too swollen, too full, it fucking hurts and your cunt feels so good, wrapped around his cock.
He moans louder with each thrust, pleasure licking up his spine, your needy little squeals just adding to how good it all feels. He loves the sting of your nails scratching down his arms, your tight pussy quivering and fluttering around him.
He sits back on his heels to watch the sight of his cock going in and out, your sensitive button throbbing between your legs. He gives it a flick, fucking you harder when he realizes touching you there makes you scream. He flicks and rubs at it wildly, loving how much tighter you get when he does that.
He gives you no warning when he pulls out and manhandles you till your face is pushed into the mattress with your ass high in the air, his cock reaching a much deeper angle in this position. He grabs onto your hips with both hands and slams you to meet the sharp snap of his hips, muttering something in a language you don't understand.
You can tell he's close, feeling him harden further inside you, his pace starting to falter. He's panting harder, head thrown back feeling that release get closer and closer. He gives you a final harsh thrust before burring himself in as deep as he could go, letting out a deep guttural moan as he starts to spill into you, his hot cum pouring out endlessly.
He wants to stop but he can't, waves of pleasure continuing to wash over him each time he thinks he's almost done, letting your body go limp while he flops on top and practically ruts and humps himself until he's finally soft and spent. He pulls out, searing the sight of his seed dripping out to memory before throwing his clothes back on. The empty feeling makes you whimper.
"moya khoroshaya devochka" [my good girl] he murmurs before leaving, already deciding he's ready to go rogue just to add this location to his list of places to revisit.
-
This wasn't meant to be part of the story but imagine he does come back to take what he wants and you let him. A few weeks later you feel insanely nauseous, throwing up every time you eat, exhausted and constantly wanting to nap.
When he sneaks in again, your scent in different and he knows. You're confused when he doesn't ravish you. Instead he wordlessly puts his hand on your belly. You look at him with confusion, especially when he picks you up softly and puts you to bed instead, keeping his hand back on your tummy.
"nash malysh" [our baby] he says softly and slowly, hoping you'd understand. Of course you quickly piece it together, only snapping out of your shock feeling his cold metal hand cup your cheek.
He makes love to you that night.
He's not sure why. He knows he has to be gentle with you. He should end you, end this mess before it goes any further but its too late. He's soft and slow. He holds you close and moves with such care, giving you deep thrusts with the roll of his hips. He lets his hands lace with yours, pinning you against the bed, squeezing them comfortingly as if to let you know he's not going anywhere.
He knows he doesn't have a lot of time. You'll be showing soon.
He'll figure something out.
Idk why tf I can't just write fics with the winter soldier where he fucks and leaves. It always ends with some stupid fluff which I didn't intend to add.
#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky smut#marvel smut#bucky barnes smut#bucky x smut#winter soldier x y/n#winter soldier x you#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier smut#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#avengers smut#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky fan fic#bucky fan fiction#bucky fanfic#winter soldier fanfiction#non con#dark marvel au
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Day 30: Freeuse - Winter Soldier
Summary: He was your patient. You were in charge of making sure all of his needs were met, no matter what they were.
Warnings/Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, non-consensual elements, dubious content, freeuse, discussion of injuries, violence, masturbation, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, stalking (kinda), possessive
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He was your priority. Hydra had recruited you with the hopes of creating an experiment to see if anyone could be trained to look after the assassin frozen in a Cyrogentic state. You were trained and kept underground to be the lead carer and doctor for the Winter Soldier. He was yours to look after, physically and mentally. After each mission you sent him on, he’d return and give you the reports. Most importantly, you were always the first face he’d see before and after being on the ice.
The Soldier would answer to you and Alexander Pierce, but even that was touchy sometimes as he would look to you before answering Pierces’ questions as if he was asking for permission to talk.
What’s more, is that you knew who he was outside of his assassin's status. James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, born in 1917, was the best friend to the one and only Captain America, Steve Rogers, who was currently alive, having been found in the ice and unbeknown to him, his best friend was also alive with similar super solider serum pumping through his veins. Steve was Bucky’s potential saviour; one day, you hoped to be there when this could become a reality; however, currently, you were watched so closely by everyone in Hydra that you’d not even been able to contemplate a plan as to how to break him out. Until then, he was your priority, keeping him out of harm's way as much as possible.
Alexander Pierce had given you strict instructions to adhere to every single need that may affect or alter the soldier's performance as the ghostly assassin. At first, you just assumed it was to feed him, wash, cut his hair, make sure he was healthy and metal arm was working to its best ability. But the basic human need for the Winter Soldier ran deeper than that, causing your role as his doctor and carer to be blurred and something more developed.
The longer he was out of the ice, the more you would notice his increasing frustrations that couldn’t be erased with a simple afternoon in the gym or sparring with other guards. There were even days when no one could calm him down, his aggression so high that he had to be sedated if you were not available to talk to him.
For example, there was once a day when you were actually off of the unit, in your new flat, having just been granted the allowance to live there when Rumlow came knocking on your door. He only gave you the courtesy of putting on your shoes before gripping your upper arm and dragging you to the office.
When you arrived, the rooms were in disarray. Equipment smashed, blood and unconscious bodies trying to be aided too. It was a mess, and you were more nearly barging down the door to get to him, shouting for the guards to stand down and leave him to you. Yes, he was a highly trained assassin, but with the trust he held in you, there was no way he would intentionally harm you.
The underground room had no windows, which you were thankful for as they would have been destroyed in his rampage. You were only dressed in your joggers and a vest top, trainers already marked with red streaks from the puddles you’d walked through. It felt like your heart would escape your mouth with how erratic it was pounding in your chest as you tried to take in his appearance.
The shirt he had previously been wearing was now ripped to shreds on the floor. The tactical trousers had tears throughout but still seemed to be held together enough that he was indecent, and combat boots that gleamed with smudges where he’d been kicking objects and people. Each of his knuckles were busted in their own way. The flesh hand was cut, and the metal fist was red with other people's blood.
You’d not seen him become this erratic since he’d been out of his cryogenic state for too long, and his memories began to return to him as he questioned his entire existence. Whereas for this example, he’d only been defrosted for several days and shouldn’t have had any cognitive issues.
Stepping closer with your hands raised to show you meant no threat, you asked in a clear, concise voice, “Soldier? Where is the threat?”
His height seemed to tower over yours, more so than usual, as he turned his deathly glare towards you. The hulking muscles of his shoulders heaved with each breath he took as if he was out of breath, which was a rare occasion as he could run for miles and continue to breathe steadily, unaffected by the strenuous exercise. Your question was supposed to help identify what his issue was, hoping he’d find you being there to create a safe space for him, but the angry charge of his massive body had you flinching back in shock.
The warm hand of his wrapped around your throat, using the momentum of his steps to push you back up against the wall. Your hands remained up, even though you were itching to tear at his wrist to relieve some pressure. He wasn’t squeezing hard enough that you were struggling to breathe, but it was still uncomfortable and unnerving.
Your mind was working on overdrive, trying to think of a way to ease the stress he was going through. Your eyes searched over his body, starting with his head and face, but there were only minor scratches and grazes from the fights. Lower your eyes explore his arms and chest until they halted, seeing something that had never been through your consideration.
His tactical pants were tented, showing the outline of his hard-on, raging just as violently as the blue of his eyes. Was this the issue of his anger? The soldier shifted his stance, hand twitching towards his crotch like he was going to move himself to be more comfortable, but stopped as he watched you closely.
Alexander Pierce had once told you that whatever the Soldier wanted or needed, you were to give it to him to ensure that he was performing to his best abilities. You cursed to yourself quietly, unsure if this was even plausible or right to do. Of course, it wasn’t right to do. He was a prisoner in his own body, but you were his doctor, and you had a job to do.
“It’s okay. I know what will help you. I’ll show you how to get rid of the pain; I won’t touch you, I promise”.
From there, you were able to explain anatomy, the ache throbbing through his abdomen and how he could relieve himself. He did. Right there in front of you, his pants by his knees and cock in hand until he came on your shoes.
You didn’t so much as blink or flinch at the action. He didn’t understand that it wasn't appropriate to cum on someone's shoes or to masturbate in a somewhat public scenario. It calmed him down enough that you could push him back onto a chair and fix the injuries that were already mostly healed.
These situations only continued to escalate, which occurred more often than not. However, the Winter Soldier only touched himself when you were around, and you were unsure if it was because you made him feel safe or for other reasons that Rumlow liked to hiss in your ear, saying that the deadly assassin had a crush on his favourite doctor.
You blew it off as gossip and nasty rumours, unprofessional at most.
This only lasted for a few months before you noticed the changes in the Soldier, and it all came to a head one night as he turned up at your apartment after a mission. You hadn’t even told him your address, and he wasn’t due back from the mission for another 24 hours, but there he was, at the end of the bed, having snuck through the window as you were halfway through having some intimate time yourself.
Your fingers were between your legs, eyes closed, and your head tipped back, not covering your moans as you didn’t think you’d need to as you were living by yourself. The assassin watched, confusion causing his brows to furrow, head tilted to the side as his fists clenched.
The look on your face was one he’d never seen before, and he noticed the anatomy was different to his. Of course, he was aware that not everyone had the same genitals as his, but it hadn’t crossed his mind that it could be touched like this.
The only time you were aware of his presence was when the bed dipped, your eyes snapping open and legs closing as you released an almighty scream that caused the Soldier to flinch.
“Mine”, he muttered under his breath, grabbing your ankle and dragging you closer.
“What? Soldier, what are you doing here? When did you- please stop” he paused his attempts to drag you closer as he was half crawling over your body. You were trying to remain calm, but he was acting so possessive, and why was he even here? How did he get in?
“Mine”, he repeated above you again, eyes trained between your legs.
You were at a loss for words, feeling both confused and safe simultaneously, even with someone as dangerous as this. The night was one that definitely crossed the line for professionalism.
The Winter Soldier was so interested in your masturbation and different genitals that he practically begged you to continue, shouting mine and gazing at your intimate area until you continued.
You came, and then the Soldier unbuckled his belt and ejaculated over your stomach, and this was the turning point of the relationship. Your job now seemed to be a half doctor, half a sexual release. Masturbation escalated into hands in underwear until there was no point holding back the restraint, and the two of you were fucking.
It was challenging to wrap your head around, especially when the two of you were in the work environment, but if it was what he wanted and needed that you were more than happy to be face pushed into the wall, trousers and underwear by your ankles and cock shoving so far into your cunt that you saw stars.
The most significant issue was that, even though none of the workers commented on it, they all knew the sex was occurring. Mainly because the Winter Soldier didn’t seem to understand that this was supposed to be something that was for ‘behind closed doors’ and out of view of the guards and other doctors. To him, if he was to push you over the table and whisper “mine”, then this was enough warning that he wanted to fuck, even if you were unfathomably embarrassed that your coworkers had to watch you coming undone to the man they were all looking after.
The worst time had to have been when Alexander Pierce came strolling into the ‘jail’ they kept the Soldier in during his downtime. Multiple guards were surrounding him, and three doctors in lab coats were working tirelessly around the room. You’d been in there for hours. Warm, tired and ready to eat whatever take-out you could encounter on the drive home later that night.
With Pierces’ presence, however, your posture straightened, and you tried to remain as professional as possible. This was a feat easier said than done as The Soldier eyed you from across the room, staring with his unblinking glare. Eventually, he pushed past Pierce, the guards all raising their guns expecting a fight, but there was none to have as the metal fingers of his specially made hand eased into the front of your work trousers, plain underwear and pushed into your cunt.
“What are you doing?! Now is not the time and place- Ah fuck!”. There was nothing other than a hand over your mouth that could have stopped the moan pitching from your lips as his thumb circled your clit. You’d not been at all aroused, but he had learned enough about your body to know the exact way to stimulate your bundle of nerves and curl his fingers inside of you to stroke that beautiful spot that had you whimpering without any restraint.
As he pleasured you in front of all your colleagues, there was nothing you could do but painfully grip on to his metal forearm. He didn’t even smile or mutter a single word as he made you orgasm with a knee-buckling euphoria. It seemed he was just in the mood to hear your whines as he turned around and sat back in front of Pierce, who was looking between the two of you.
“It seems things have changed through here. I’m glad you have been able to … satisfy the Asset by any means necessary”.
You tried not to visibly cringe with the way he had worded it as you tried to straighten your clothes and continue with the work you had been completing before. Nothing further was thankfully said as he was given his next mission, and you were left to continue working for a further three hours with underwear that was utterly soaked due to his wandering fingers.
#bucky barnes smut#bucky smut#winter soldier smut#winter soldier#winter soldier x reader#bucky barnes one shot#bucky x reader#marvel smut#marvel fic#winter soldier one shot#bucky barnes x reader#mine*#kinktober 2023#kinktober
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Training Techniques
Winter Soldier x Reader
He is not allowed to move an inch—he can only watch you pleasure yourself—but why is there a ring on your finger?
Warnings - smut, light angst, mastrubation(f), rough sex, choking, breeding kink
Words - 2600
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You have absolutely no pleasure in the work in which you sometimes so madly indulge—training the assets with delicacy of words with which their handlers don’t approve of—Soldat is your favorite, with his expression of endless and unconditional gratitude and a silent promise of complicity unto death—he may not remember your face, but he always remembers your voice, its' gentleness.
The soporific air of your room, in the soft breath of bread and sweets—he was sent there, because he was misbehaving again.
It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that you have periled this life and reputation—but here you are—on your bed trying to sleep when you see him sitting on the chair, waiting.
And this isn't a romance. You're not a damsel in distress and he is not the handsome prince who comes to save you—this is his desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of the impending doom, but they didn’t know that.
You know.
He can't stop looking at you—Soldat is gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago, because he is not allowed to move until you instruct him to.
Subconsciously, he licks his lips at the sight at your body in a night dress and wonder if he will ever just cum in your mouth as you suck him off to your knees…or if he’ll take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load.
It doesn’t seem worth the risk
—but he wanted this for so long now, he needs to voice it.
“Please-”
—an irrational and indulgent mistake.
you stand up on your elbows in shock at the word he utters—his eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and his lips twitch. Soldat has fallen into a state of feverish lust, but that is not a justification for his disobedience.
His heart goes into a shameless delirium when your eyes meet.
“Desperate?” you mock, but underneath the mockery Soldat finds a reservoir of understanding.
You lay back on the bed as nothing has happened, and your voice takes on a restful strength
“I still need to punish you for that, Winter”
He behaves as naturally, with such discretion, that he does not lose his composure, not even when you remove your wedding ring—who committed the impertinence of marrying you? He goes through a crisis of disappointment, fury, jealousy, but this is your way of giving Soldat a layer of respect—he wants to call it loyalty.
And maybe you can be his or maybe you will be entwined in this sexless foreplay tonight.
He wants to ask so many questions, but he can’t.
Not now.
There is a pent-up curiosity, hysteria of his unsatisfied needs, unnaturally suppressed communion and also a kind of tense respect, because if he is obedient enough—he will be rewarded.
“You will watch me, that's all you will do for now” you say, your voice has sunk to a whisper.
Your words stoke a warmness in his stomach, a fire in his crotch.
And he doesn’t care what you will do with him—even if you want to cut him, sharpen him however you please—that's all he knows anyways. He wants this memory to stay what it is, one intense moment, something that is strong and sweet enough to stand on its own.
Your room has turned into an idyllic paradise for a good many years, your skin glistening in the light coming from the slits in the blinds as your hands play with your breast through the nightgown.
He has lost his voice and a thread of cold sweat runs down the path of his spine, suffocating with heat, because of the black leather clothes—the stiff collar and the tight harness that is restricting his breathing, is becoming increasingly annoying.
His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, and for the first time, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning—he needs to be patient, but it’s hard—not harder than his cock—It's more erotic, more intense to watch you touch yourself.
He is master of what he does, but never of what he desires.
You are greatly overestimating his self-control. But this is what you are testing tonight—his ability to subordinate the impulse to fuck you.
Self-control might be as passionate and as active as the surrender to passion, but you need to show him who is in charge while your panties are becoming steadily slicker.
All you need to do is to tell him to come, but you refrain from doing the thing you want so badly—to be consumed by Winter.
You glance up to find his eyes blazing with raw need—blue orbits pleading for you to command him.
You spread your legs open, positioning yourself in front of him—one hand still toying with your nipple while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drag them down your legs slowly before throwing them in his direction.
His breath stutters as they land on his left boot and Soldat eyes them wickedly, knowing that all he can do is watch.
"Good, very good, Soldat '' you coo, sliding two fingers into your core, scissoring and stretching, curling over the one sweet spot—imagining his metal digits. You remove them as your index finger takes their place, rubbing slow, torturous circles on your clit, sliding down to tease your opening, then back up. Over and over again.
He slides his tongue across his teeth, remembering the taste of your nectar, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft.
“I want you so much, gosh” he is stirred by the lust in your smooth voice.
You are breathing deep with your mouth wide open—he doesn’t blink, he doesn’t dare blink. Soldat can swear he feels the pressure of your palms on his cheeks—or is it a memory?
Everything is a memory to him.
“I want you here, fucking me”
There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.
With the auspicious attention of a strained killing machine, he examines your fingers, your shivering body and listens to your muffled moans meticulously. It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion to his mind—your scandalous behavior is pulling at every string of his nerves and self-control.
It is such a prolonged act, so meticulous, so rich in all aspects as you are giving yourself over to the deserved adoration of your own body and pleasure. It leaves Soldat breathless at the tremendous spectacle of your nudity and lack of shame as you bring yourself closer to the edge.
“Jesus-I am so close”
You confess, surprised at how fast the arousal is budding. You arch your back and hips buckle like an electric current runs through your body, moaning, rubbing your clit faster, forcing yourself to let out a louder moan. The orgasm wrecks your body from head to toe and being watched by a ferocious male is exciting—all he needs is a feeling as primitive and as simple as that of love.
You see his eyes, still unblinking and you feel menaced by some invisible danger—you are keenly aware of every movement, every breath you take. Lust is a weed that grows in the vacant lots of an abandoned mind and the stacks of bad words that you have been forced to swallow, spills
“Soldat, come here” you command, languid and serious.
You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs, getting up and slowly coming towards the bed as his thick, black pants fall to the floor around his feet, the belt clattering noisily.
Winter craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten.
He breathes, his chest rising and falling so close to yours.
“Kiss m-” you whisper the words, and before you even finish saying them, his mouth is on yours and you are melting under his lips, eyes flutter shut—and it is blissful oblivion—giving you the most intense and explosive kiss you two have ever shared. With the coldness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue beneath yours, you vow an endless bliss.
He pulls back with a groan—Winter’s sky-blue eyes stare back into yours, and in his eyes you can see no parting from you.
You put your hands on either side of his face, and the room falls away. You have never gotten so lost in a kiss before. And the kiss is not gentle. It is a wrestle of who would lead the excursion into the territory of passion and ecstasy, heat and unending craving for one another. You suck on his lower lip between your teeth and he lets out a low groan. It sounds almost aggravated and definitely impatient.
Fire looks into his quiet eyes, touches his dear, familiar face—you lean upwards for a moment and dip your head towards his ear, grazing his soft skin with your teeth, while your hand slides to the harness. Soldat stills, angling his mouth towards your bare, perfect neck. You feel a warm slickness on your skin, his tongue trailing a path towards your shoulder.
It is a wild, animalistic compulsion, an urgent need as he suddenly slots himself between your legs and you turn your head away. Your fear is returning, crawling through your limbs and leaving you numb to everything. You shut your eyes, gripping the sheets, and whimper when he pushes himself inside you. He releases a ragged breath before moving, slow but with purpose, and you simply take it with soft whimpers and gasps as he pumps in and out of you, now starting to set a steady pace.
His eyes, the blue completely gone from his them, soften for a moment and he kisses you tenderly before he whispers in your ear, his breath puffs against your skin. He spends a good amount of time on your neck, a brief stop at the base of your throat—he wants to bite you, but he can’t—something melts inside Soldat that hurts in an exquisite way—you are not his.
“Who did you marry, Snow White?”
He asks, voice throbbing with menace—before slipping inside you again and burying himself to the hilt. Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming. He is so far in that his balls are right against your lips.
You arch your back and moan “It doesn’t matter” as he slides back out nearly all the way before slamming into you hard and fast. You wrap your legs around his waist as he slams into you over and over, the only sound in the room is the skin slapping.
You close your eyes and swallow. Your mouth parts and stills—your voice is barely a whisper as his tip touches your cervix.
“Pierce…I am closer to ruining his plans, closer to freeing you”
Despite your eyelids being tightly shut, a single, hot tear runs out of your eye. You are so angry that it has escaped—so angry—he stops his trusts completely. You moan as you feel his movement out of you. Then, as he almost has the tip fully out, he slaps it back in.
When your eyes meet his gaze as you are sitting here staring at each other, time stops.
Your fingertips reach to trace the metal shoulder, but he grasps your hand with his own. He leans down, far enough that the ends of his hair brush feather-light against your face, catching in your lashes and tears.
His breath, warm and measured, hits your cheek. Two breaths. Three. Then you stop breathing, and a second later, you feel his lips on your mouth. It is hungry, desperate.
His metal hand wraps around your neck, thumb presses into the skin—you moan, it ripples over your nerve endings. His breath caresses your ear again—his grip on your neck tightens. And this makes you always still and submit…the act of Winter taking shameful, contemptuous possession of you is the kind of rapture you want.
“Next time-” you try, but with your restricted of oxygen brain, you are not able to.
He tastes passion. He tastes lust. He tastes his power over you. He tastes a world of stimulants he’d never imagined. You are right there in front of him, he can do whatever he wants.
Winter loosens his hold—only to observe you as you breathe raggedly, sliding down slowly, a moan ripping from your throat.
“Next time he calls you in his house, I will be there, too”
I have nothing to give but my heart so full and these empty hands.
“I need to kill them one by one, Winter”
His mouth curves into a smile—his eyes are light blue and dancing with life. He pauses for only a fraction of a second. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to yours
"Okay, yeah, yeah" a devil-soft whisper.
He blinks several times like he is trying to comprehend your plan word by word. His trusts become so hormonal—you want his roughness. His other hand slips to your waist, pushing you into the mattress as he fucks you. For him, sex intimately relates to the most primitive kind of human contact, which can satisfy all of his needs he has been deprived from.
"Winter " you gaspe breathlessly "Slow down"
You try to let out a choked squeal, but his metal hand tightens around your neck again, muffling any sounds, your toes curling as he brings you steadily closer and closer to orgasm, reeling from the thrill and the fear from both his forceful thrusts of his powerful hips and the choking.
Soldat is unrelenting in his domination of your body. But you are his at this moment, your cunt clenching around him while you mewls and grunts fill his ears, he can’t slow down even one bit. Logic would say that this is insane, every other fibre of his being says it's right—he has to fill you up.
You can't move. You can't breathe.
And his pace. And the adrenaline.
“I will cum inside—dear Snow White”
This is his demarcation line, all of a sudden it seems unfair to withhold it from you.
Your inner muscles tighten as waves of pleasure start to build and ripple out. You don’t normally get off this fast, but you are lost in the exquisite sensations—you put your hands on his metal arm as your body bursts into flames, your fingers curling into the metal.
You can’t make a sound and it is a shame, because it is the best orgasm you ever had. It is unbearable, unreal, unimaginable—it is too much as your eyes can only see darkness due to the choking. You can only hear a broken and hoarse cry escaping his lips, his warm come filling you up completely.
You can hear his breath, as your vision slowly becomes solid—a stray lock of dark hair falls into his eyes as he is looking down—he moves his hips back and then into you again, enjoying his cock being in a tub of cum, swimming in your honey.
#I WAS POSSESSED#but this is real#metal arm kink fr#winter soldier x you#winter soldier smut#winter soldier imagine#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier fic#winter soldier fanfiction#smut#slight angst#bucky smut#bucky barnes smut#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#marvel x reader#bucky barnes imagine
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ready to comply part 2? 👉👈
As you wish!
I may have left this one on a cliff hanger as well. 🫣
I’M SORRY! I was just having so much fun I had to leave it open in case there was interest for a part three. ❤️
Ready to Comply - Part Two
Requested by @littleone2001
Soldat!Bucky Barnes x PlusSized!Reader
Word Count: 1.7k
ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+
C/W: Language, discussion/implications of violence and murder, gun play (sorry, not sorry), unprotected sex, rough sex, a lil boob slap (once, because I had to), spanking, fingering (f receiving), anal fingering (f receiving), brief discussion of kidnapping/making reader his sex slave
✏️ A/N at the end.
“All I can smell is how wet you are.”
Oh fuck.
You muster up a small, broken sound from your chest when the realization finally hits you that your desire is overwhelming Bucky’s senses to the point that he’s struggling just to think.
“I-“
His fingers hook beneath the saturated fabric of your panties, his fingers grazing against your folds and igniting a heat in your body that sets your nerves on fire.
He tears them away, reducing them to a tattered rag in his fist which he brings to his nose and inhales deeply before he discards them to the floor with a growl.
He forces your thick thighs apart, spreading you open with his trembling fingers to observe your tight, wet hole as it clenches desperately around nothing.
“Fuck!”
His breath catches in his chest and he stumbles back, withdrawing the gun from his shoulder holster and brandishing it at you.
Your eyes widen as you snap your legs shut, raising your hands defensively and shrinking back in horror.
Bucky steps forward and presses the barrel of the gun against your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.
“I’m sorry.” He chokes out.
“You’re going to kill me.” You whisper, fear taking hold as your eyes screw shut and a tear slips down your cheek.
He shakes his head slowly, tracing the cool metal of his weapon along your jawline. “No, I ain’t gonna kill you. Not yet.”
Your eyes open, your expression twisting into one of confusion. “Then why.. why are you sorry?”
He sets his jaw, lifting his left hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Because I’m gonna hurt you.” He rasps.
Your brows knit in concern. “What do y-“
Bucky cuts you short, replying only by dipping his gun between your legs, pressing it firmly against your bare, weeping cunt.
Your entire body seizes in terror but as he drags the cool, hard weapon along your slick folds, the fear gives way to something else entirely.
“You don’t wanna hurt me..” You say slowly, carefully, biting back a moan as the barrel of the gun grazes across your clit.
“But I do.” He taunts, pulling the gun away and gripping your jaw with bruising force. He presses it to your mouth, your slick coating the metal and wetting your bottom lip. “Open.” He growls, leaving you little choice with how hard he’s holding your chin. He forces the gun into your mouth, your eyes wide in apprehension. “Suck.” He demands, pressing it down on your tongue. You swirl your tongue around it, tasting yourself on the bitter metal. He groans, withdrawing it harshly from your mouth with a string of spittle and tucking it back into its holster.
“I’m gonna fuck you. And it’s gonna hurt.” He mutters, his calloused fingers moving to unbuckle his belt.
“Bucky y-“ He pinches your cheeks together painfully in his metal hand, effectively silencing you.
“Quit fuckin’ calling me that!” He snaps, using his grip on your jaw to yank you forward to him.
“Soldat.” He corrects in a menacing tone, nodding your head for you to ensure you understood.
“That is my name. I suggest you remember it, because you’re about to be screaming it.”
He releases your face harshly, reaching to pull his hard, thick cock from his jeans and spitting into his palm. He curls his hand around his impressive length and pumps himself lazily from base to tip, rubbing his thumb roughly over the slit and smearing beads of precum along his shaft to mingle with his saliva.
Your eyes follow every stroke of his hand as he closes in on you, your brain working to comprehend just how in the hell your body was going to accommodate his size.
He’s right. This is going to hurt.
He clutches the neckline of your dress with his free hand, ripping and tearing the fabric until you’re bared to him and he kneads at your breast roughly pinching the pebbled flesh of your nipple harshly between his fingers, drawing a small cry from you.
“Buc-“ You stammer.
He slaps your tit hard and you wince from the sting as it radiates across the tender flesh of your ample breast.
“Soldat.” He growls through clenched teeth, hiking your legs to rest your heels on his shoulders and tilting your pelvis upwards as he lines himself up with your aching entrance.
You suck in a sharp breath as the crown of his cock breeches your tight, wet hole and you writhe underneath him against the sting as he splits you open, stretching your cunt and filling you in a way you’ve never experienced.
A shameless moan erupts from your throat when he begins to snap his hips, fucking into you with a merciless rhythm. What was once pain is quickly building into pleasure and your back arches up off the desk.
“So fucking tight.” He grunts, his heavy sack swinging with every deep thrust into your dripping cunt. His jaw clenches and he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs, spreading you wider as he tucks his chin to watch himself disappear into your wet heat with a predatory gaze.
Pleasure builds in your abdomen and you rock your hips to meet his hungry thrusts, biting down on your bottom lip as his thick cock massages your inner walls. The corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s biting back a smirk when he registers you eagerly moving in sync with him. He snakes a hand down between you, tracing his fingers along the girth of his cock where he’s filling you and gathers your slick along his fingertips, raising his hand and spreading his fingers to admire the sheen of your wetness with a thoughtful expression.
Without warning he withdraws, leaving you desperate and empty when he lets your right leg drop and curls his hand around your left ankle, flipping you hard onto your stomach. He grabs your hips and yanks you backwards towards him so you’re bent over your desk with the lip of it biting into your pelvis. He delivers a harsh smack to your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hand, then dipping his head down to suck a bruise into the skin before biting down hard into your plump cheek. You yelp and raise yourself up on your palms, but Bucky splays a large, calloused hand across your back, forcing you back down and kicking your legs wider with the toe of his boot.
He plunges two fingers in your thoroughly fucked hole, coating them in your arousal before withdrawing them and sinking his cock back into your swollen cunt. Strangled noises of pleasure catch in your throat and you push your hips back greedily to meet him, your walls throbbing around him as ruts into you, his balls slapping against your clit and sending shockwaves through you with every brutal thrust.
He spreads your ass cheeks roughly, teasing his wet index finger along your backside, circling your puckered hole and causing you to squirm. He presses into you, working his finger in sync with his hips, massaging it into you until you manage to take him to the knuckle and he lets out a satisfied groan that you nearly drown out in your own wanton moan.
“Fuck.” He rasps out, pain blooming as he moves to add a second finger. You cry out at the intrusion, your hands clenching into fists above your head and your nails biting into your palms as he rocks his fingers into you, scissoring you open.
You thought you’d been full when it was only his cock but fuck, were you wrong.
It was too much.
It was too good.
The tension wound tight in your abdomen finally snaps and you completely shatter.
A choked sob rips from your throat and your pussy spasms, your walls fluttering around his cock and your asshole contracting around his fingers as you scream, your orgasm tearing through you with enough force to make your head spin and your ears ring.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
He slips his fingers from your tight hole, grabbing hold of your hips with both hands and slamming into you with unrelenting force, fucking you through each wave of euphoria as they crashed over you in succession.
“I’m gonna tell them I killed you.” He grunts, his cock kissing your cervix. “So no one will ever come looking for you.”
You mumble incoherently, tears of ecstasy staining your cheeks as you lay limp in the wake of your earth shattering release while he continues to pound into you at a steady pace.
“I think I’ll keep you tied to my bed.” He whispers in a menacing tone, his thrusts growing frantic as he chases his impending orgasm. “I’m gonna fuck every hole in your body, every day, until you can’t fucking take it anymore.”
Bucky snaps his hips forward in one last powerful thrust and then stills, shouting a string of curses as his cock pulses and he pulls your plump ass flush to his pelvis, emptying himself deep inside of you.
He tilts his head back, his chest rising and falling erratically and then pulls out, staggering back as you rise up and turn to face him with flushed cheeks and hair slicked against your sweaty forehead.
“Get dressed.” He orders, tugging his jeans up and fastening his belt. “You’re coming with me.”
You nod and move on weak knees, feeling his cum slowly leaking from your cunt as you gather your blazer. He watches you carefully as you pull it on, buttoning it in an attempt to cover your naked body.
Bucky holds out his hand impatiently and you take it, cautiously moving closer to him, your thighs sticky as they rub together with every step you take.
You place a palm flat against his chest and he looks down at you with his brows furrowed in confusion at your gentle gesture before you rise up on your tiptoes, pressing your mouth against his. He stiffens momentarily but quickly reciprocates, his tongue teasing at your bottom lip in a silent demand to deepen the kiss. You comply, moving your tongue slowly against his in a sensual dance and tracing your hands along his broad chest as you lean further into him.
When you break the kiss abruptly and step back out of his embrace, he blinks in bewilderment before his face contorts into rage as he registers that he’s staring into the barrel of his own gun.
Taglist (Taglist is open):
@littleone2001 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe
A/N: My husband gave me so much shit for this while I was writing it: tHiS iSnT cAnOn, BuCkY wOuLdNt Do ThAt, iT dOeSnT mAkE sEnSe
Look, I know. It’s a fanfic, it’s AU, it’s not canon.
Anyway, now I’m really anxious about posting this, worried that it won’t meet your expectations. So I hope you enjoy so I can tell my husband to suck it. 😈
💋Sj
#bucky barnes#james barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#james buchanan barnes#sergeant james barnes#sergeant james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader requests#bucky barnes x plus size reader#Soldat Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes smut#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier smut#marvel smut#avengers smut#winter soldier x you#winter soldier fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfic#winter soldier fic#smut requests#smutty fic#all smut#smutty fanfiction#fan fiction request#james bucky buchanan barnes
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❝what was rule number #2 again❞ I.| bucky barnes x reader
pairing: tfatws bucky x reader
summary: messing around in banner's lab, the night before your mission wasn't as good an idea as you thought, and you begin to question your actions the moment you step out of it. things worsen when you realize the super soldier serum isn't immune to an unknown contagious disease.
warnings: sex pollen, no warnings this part, the II one? hahaha
a/n: I may have insulted the reader a few times in the beginning, so I apologize for that. but let's be honest, we'd do the same. I decided to split this fic into two parts because if I wrote it all into one part, it'd have 10k words. I'm not an english native speaker, so forgive me my sins and bad grammar if you find something.
m.list
You weren't stupid. But you also weren't exactly smart. If you were, you would've minded your own business, stayed in the gym, and went through the plan for tomorrow's mission. Maybe even go to bed a little sooner, to be ready for the next day's alarm. But Banner was away for a business trip, and seeing his lab silent and alone didn't exactly sing you lullabies to sleep. That's why you found yourself standing in the heart of it at 3 a.m., in your pajamas, praying everyone was asleep. It was well known around the compound that Banner's and Stark's labs were a faraway island, and anybody with a brain would circle around them. But you were an excellent swimmer and sharks didn't scare you.
10 hours later, you realised why Banner turned green every time someone even glared the glass door of his science play room. You were a fast swimmer but not exactly a bright one. The only bright thing related to you was that you were easily struck by it. And the glowing pink flowers in Doc's terrarium took you down faster than the sharks. It was bright pink with purple shadows. It reminded you of passionflower, but it was bigger. Way bigger, and you weren't sure if you were hallucinating, but the feeling of the flower's filaments moving was too strong. They were moving in waves, then circles, then each moved in its own way. It was mesmerising.
It was too late before you realized you moved the flower out of its enclosure to get a closer look at it. The smell hit you hard, filling your brain with colorful fog. You smelled a dash of cinnamon, mixed with ginger and lavender. You couldn't miss the powerful vanilla and pumpkin filling up the room. You didn't realize how bad the consequences of smelling Doc's flower would be until you came undone under your fingers nearly seven times. And it still wasn't enough. The scheduled time of your and Barnes' meeting was quickly approaching, and your skin didn't feel less on fire than it did two hours ago.
You managed to get out of the sweaty mattress and put some clothes on you, loose ones, hoping that your skin could breathe a little. You prayed some air would cool you down, clear your head, and slap some sense into you. It was now obvious why Banner was so determined not to let anyone close his lab. He was experimenting with aphrodisiacs, and you, unwillingly, became one of his lab rats. Thoughts didn't stop multiplying in your head until one landed steadily on its feet. Tony has been visiting Doc's labs the last few weeks, five minutes on the dot after curfew. You knew because you were always stationed on your balcony, which gave you a clear view of the other building, and its glass windows didn't hide much. It only became pitch black when Tony came in, and Banner didn't even flinch when he heard the door shut.
Chuckle left your lips when you connected the dots, ignoring how amusing you must look for Barnes, sitting right next to him.
"Something funny?" he asked, not dropping his gaze off of you. You were now on your way to the target's last seen place, being lucky enough to get a ride in Tony's self-driven car. You wanted to drown him in kisses because you can only imagine the suffering if you had to walk all the way from the compound to the other side of the city. Your skin was still on fire, your hair was sticking to your neck, and salty drops chased each other on your skin. You certainly were an amusing sight to Bucky. Or a terrifying one. You wished he got used to it by now. After all these years of fighting against each other, then with each other, and now forced to fight by each other's side, he saw you through worse conditions. But as far as he knew, you were locked in your room all week. You had no reason to look like you had an early meeting with the reaper.
"Just, thinking," you mumbled back at him, forcing yourself to keep your head rested against your seat, begging your body to not betray you for looking back at your partner. Your body fighting the chemicals in your body, you could only imagine how it would end if you stared at Barnes for more than five seconds. Worse, let alone if you touched him. You read about aphrodisiacs and scientists' failed attempts to know what you were going through. You were prepared to die before touching Barnes.
You were secretly jealous. It wasn't fair of you, but Barnes' serum running through his veins protected him from anything related. You almost abandoned your morals, but the pain you were going through justified it. You had no idea how you were going to focus on the mission, communicate with James, and, if it came to it, fight the target. You could only focus on the heat between your legs and how touch-starved you were. And your, undeniably, attractive coworker wasn't helping the case.
You and James had a complicated history. Both born in the 40s and dated for a while before he fell from the train. Years later, he comes to kill you for Howard's successful experiment on you. Immortality would definitely suit HYDRA and their planned assassinations. James, back then, the Winter Soldier, failed to capture you, so they decided your family's fate. And your friends. Then, years later, Howard's. You forgave him. All of it. Because you knew it wasn't him. But when he came back from Wakanda, with no traces of HYDRA in him, and didn't spare you a glance, you couldn't forgive him that. Seventy years of tolerating the actions HYDRA made him do, and he couldn't even look at you. It broke your heart but rather to act like a cunt than a weepy baby, begging for attention that will never come.
"Well then, do it fast. We're almost there." You hear his grumpy voice, making the butterflies in your stomach double their count. The decades-old memories of you together overwhelmed your brain like a tsunami. You couldn't swim out of that. The way his tongue circled your clit as you played with his hair at the theatre restroom. Or when he made you ride his face with Steve in the house. The way he pounded into you against the wall so you wouldn't forget him when he gets shipped out the next morning. And the way he had to cover your mouth that night at the bar, celebrating his unit's rescue. Now he was sitting millimetres away from you, and he wouldn't have done any of it. You still hoped, subconsciously, he'd dick you down like he did all those years ago. But that was a fantasy. Very vivid, real fantasy.
"Yes, sir," you let out, closing your eyes, tugging on your shirt so your fingers wouldn't accidentally slip in between your thighs. You didn't wanna make a scene. Even tho at some point, you knew you would.
You didn't catch James' hungry gaze when he heard those words slip from your mouth. At the back of his head, he reminiscent the amount of times it was him, slipping out of it.
It took you exactly 17 minutes before you got yourself out of Tony's car. You accidentally grinded yourself on his leather seats, causing you to accidentally moan, and of course, Barnes caught it. He'd never miss that sweet sound leaving your lips. At nights, he wished he'd made you sound like that, even louder. But that was ages ago, and you were over him. It was the only thing that made sense to him.
Five minutes into your romantic stroll to the target's office, the wetness in your panties got worse. You figured the more you moved, the less it hurt, but the pleasure doubled. And the Avengers training lessons didn't exactly cover how to act if you're orgasming every five seconds just because your thighs rubbed against each other.
Correction, you didn't actually cum. It was more of a frustrating edging that made you wanna rip out your hair. You were sure Barnes had already figured something was off or had at least suspected something. The suppressed moans and the tugging on your crotch weren't exactly subtle.
"Alright," he stopped walking, a few meters away from a huge building. It was surrounded by a deep forest, straight from a horror movie. "he was last seen inside. If Steve's correct, we should..." You kept nodding, not actually paying attention to what he was saying. It was the way his metal arm moved when he talked and the way his fingers curled while explaining the plan. You never got the answer to your question if he could feel through his amputated arm. He had to, you thought. You heard him groan every time someone pulled it too hard. You were embarrassed how much it roused you when you heard him whimper in pain, but it was also one of the things that circled your head when you were alone in your room.
You'd imagine, would it feel different. It would definitely be cold, rougher, you suspected faster. And with the serum running in his veins, he'd definitely last longer. That, you were one hundred percent sure, for it was Natasha's moans you heard for over two days after she and Steve finally hit it off. But Nat was also a super soldier. Bucky would probably tire you out by the 2nd round. But you were willing to risk it.
"If you're not gonna be listening to me, then you can turn around and go back." Was the first thing you heard after you forced yourself out of Bucky's hand around your throat fantasies. It probably wasn't the best idea, but seeing Bucky frustrated and annoyed by your incompetence made you feel things. And you wanted more.
"Whatever you want, Sergeant." You smirked, walking past him towards the building. His smell punched you in the face, making your walls clench around nothing. Fuck. Your self-control was harder to put in check. You were sure in a few minutes it'd be non-existent.
"Whatever is your problem today," you heard him behind you. You didn't look at him, focusing on keeping a steady pace towards the building so you could finish the job, get home where you could fuck yourself to oblivion. No one, but your fingers were currently available. And even they couldn't sometimes do the job you needed. But you knew whose would.
"I'm talking to you." Your heart dropped when his hand landed on your shoulder. Your skin got warmer again, and the pulse between your legs was impossible to ignore. You didn't know if you wanted to kill him or fuck him.
Ideally, both.
Turning around, you found the strength to twist his arm, finding out it was his human one, making it easier to push him back. He looked so taken back that it was amusing. But not amusing enough to stop the aching of your cunt.
"Touch me again," and I won't answer for the consequences. You wanted to add. But you didn't. Instead, you stared back at him, praying to god you'd drop dead or something would happen to stop the throbbing pain. You wanted to push your pants down and do something about it, but Bucky's presence wouldn't let you. It would, seventy years ago.
God, the number of times he made you rub yourself in front of him, fuck yourself while he watched. Couldn't he do it now? You'd happily obey.
"You've been acting distant ever since morning," he said, taking a step closer. "I just wanna know what's wrong," he said, lowering his voice at the end. You were sure it was just the stupid plant making you see things, but Bucky's dark eyes were hard to miss. Or the sweat on his forehead. Or the way he clenched his jaw when his eyes dropped to your lips.
Your heart sank. Holy fuck.
You couldn't help but laugh. It was, after all, comical. You looked manic but that didn't bother you. You felt so many emotions at once that you struggled to choose one.
"What the hell are you doing," you heard his voice interrupt your laugh. You were out of your mind. Your legs weak and sweaty, your cunt covered in your wetness, your head filled with migraine, skin on fire, and thoughts surrounding only one thing. And now, cherry on top, you realize Banner discovered an aphrodisiacs that make the super soldier serum its bitch. James motherfucking Barnes joined the lab rats of Banner's sex research.
#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky barns x reader#bucky barns x y/n#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky barns imagine#sex pollen#bucky x you#bucky fanfic#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky barnes series#winter soldier#winter solider x reader#winter solider smut#bucky smut#bucky barnes smut#winter soldier smut#the winter soldier#the winter solider x reader#the winter solider fanfiction#tfatws#tfatws bucky#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marvel smut#smut#james barnes
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HELLO so i was wondering if you have some winter soldier x reader fics?? ive been trying to find some but theyre all so short (still amazing stories tho) tysm, i really appreciate you making recs
Winter Soldier!Bucky
masterlist | req masterlist
ONESHOT
Into Cursed Pixie Dust by @buckets-and-trees
“He's credited over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years…” but you don’t know that. You run into him once, then again, again, again. Destiny draws you together, and neither of you can deny the pull. And yet though he never ages, you do.
Stalker by @you-are-my-sanctuary
In which Bucky has a crush on the new PR manager and is being an adorable stalker.
sleepwalking by @lanadelreyscokewhor3
when your boyfriend bucky wakes up with the winter soldier mindest, you do the only thing you know how to do- comfort him. he does the only thing he knows how to thank you- possessive sex.
Colors in the Dark by @buckychrist
The world is without color, and that’s never bothered the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA didn’t have time for love and soulmates. At almost a century old, what are the odds that his soulmate was even still living?
ephemeral by @earlgreydream
the winter soldier shows up wounded at your door during a storm.
Purgatory by @wkemeup
While on a mission, Bucky becomes dissociated into the Winter Soldier. But instead of becoming a threat, his instinct is to protect.
a soldier gone rouge by @kinanabinks
the winter soldier has been sent to kill you. why, then, are you so wet?
Reverse Psychology by @waiting4inspiration
Bucky’s Winter Soldier mode is triggered. But you have something up your sleeves that will bring him back.
Comply by @gogolucky13
With Hydra, everyone is a prisoner.
Don’t Fear the Reaper by @gogolucky13
One night, the Winter Soldier appears at your place of work to eliminate a target. He leaves you alive, only to return a few months later.
Fatal Mistake by @rookthorne
A rogue agent amidst their ranks, it was the perfect plan, a perfect escape. It was their fatal mistake.
Wolf, Partner, Gloves… by @revengingbarnes
HYDRA’s words make Bucky go into Winter Soldier mode. Then he meets you, and you make for him words that will bring him back to normal.
the dragon and her shadow by @kashimos-hajime
You fall in love with the Winter Soldier, and they punish you for it. Sentiment is weakness, but what can they do? After all, they cannot kill the Fist of H.Y.D.R.A. and mortal men cannot even begin to comprehend slaying a dragon.
take it easy, romeo by @sunmoonandeddie
The Soldat remembers one person through it all.
You Found Me by @samthemarvelfan
Bucky Barnes always came home to you. What happens when he doesn't? Worse than that...what happens when he forgets you existed?
Gone Again by @tokoyamisstuff
The Winter Soldier is lost and confused, unable to remember a single thing - except for the place where he’d find the woman that had become his safe space.
I’ll Come Back for You by @milliedazzledust
something where he is in winter soldier mode and protecting the scientist (y/n) where she is the only one who can sort of calm him down after a mission.
Void by @theeleggymeggy
Working as a nurse at HYDRA, you find yourself intervening when you catch Alexander Pierce striking The Asset. You don’t even know this man, but you can’t just stand and watch him be beat down.
Sweet Memory by @
SERIES
One’s Promised by @invisibleanonymousmonsters
Living a double life was not a choice when one was the daughter of Alexander Pierce. Y/N was the youngest agents of SHIELD and one of the most respected threats within Hydra’s empire. No matter her allegiance, she was feared by both. Y/N Pierce would’ve tried to escape it all… if it hadn’t been for The Winter Soldier.
Soldat by @the-fallen-nightmare
Captain America and Reader have worked together at SHIELD for over a year. What happens when they have a run in with The Winter Solider and Steve finds out the secret Reader had been hiding from him all this time? And what happens when reader is captured by Hydra and The Winter Soldier, again. Can she make Soldat remember her or is her life with Steve just a slow fading memory now?
Breach by @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor (dark)
The reader finds herself in the Winter Soldier’s cross hairs during a lock down.
Reset by @lunarbuck
The government has fallen, Hydra has taken over. You were an agent of SHIELD long before the reign of terror began, and became a member of the resistance when they needed you most. Everything changes when the Winter Soldier captures you from your safe house.
Devil’s Backbone by @trashmenofmarvel
With your team dead and your mission failed, you’ve been taken by the assassin to an unknown location and are at the mercy of your cruel tormentors.
Krasavchik by @after-avenging-hours
While under orders from Karpov to test the Soldat’s loyalties to Hydra, you find yourself questioning your own loyalties.
Welcome Home… Soldat? by @winterarmyy
Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.
#bucky barnes fic rec#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes smut#winter soldier x reader#bucky barnes series#winter soldier!bucky#winter soldier!bucky x reader#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x agent!reader#bucky barnes x avenger!reader#bucky barnes x hydra!reader#winter soldier smut#dark!bucky barnes x reader#dark!winter soldier#sex pollen
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Кролик; Bunny
ೃ⁀➷ It's the dreaded time of month and all you want to do is curl up in bed. Your soldat has other plans.
ೃ⁀➷ p in v sex. dirty talk. soldat!bucky. mentions of blood. period sex. (soldat not giving a fuck). breeding kink. mentions of pads/pain. fingering. possible typos.
ೃ⁀➷ 1.2k
i hate my period so much, writing about this brute helps me cope🧸
seb masterlist
Oh no. No. No. Not today. Not now.
Fuck, You hate mother nature.
The sheets of your bed are stained a red hue. Little spots and specks paint the white fabric and your thighs are sticky with blood.
Your fucking period. If you had enough energy you could just slam a fist into the wall, broken bones be damned.
You whimpered and whined all the way to the shower, stomach aching, legs weak. You made sure to tear off the sheets and add them to the heaping pile of laundry in your room.
As soon as you stripped yourself of your clothes and felt the steaming water hit your skin, all was forgiven. The sound of water hitting the cheap chipped tile was so relaxing you would give everything you had to be in this state forever.
Unfortunately, a girl has a water bill.
ღ
You changed your clothes, put on low-cut shorts, and bought a shit ton of pads. It was only the first day and your flow was already heavy.
The cramps were bearable, but you could tell they were going to get a whole lot worse. Which led to your current state, in bed, lights turned off, head against a cold pillow, and blinds drawn.
An unbreakable fortress of cold pillows and snakes you managed to hoard in anticipation for this day's arrival.
You couldn’t turn on the tv, the light was harsh and irritating. So you just sat in darkness, eating Resses and groaning in pain.
Your only thought was “when would he arrive"?
ღ
“Кролик” (Bunny) a heavy voice woke you from your sleep. A familiar musk of gunpowder and him filled your head.
“You're bleeding.” He says from the shadows. You find your fingers gripping your blankets in both anticipation and fear. Your breath hitches.
He smells it, smells you.
“You need to be bred.”
Fuck.
The Winter Soldier, soldat, in his six-foot-tall frame, rounds the side of your bed. The harsh fabric of his suit, made to withstand all kinds of obstacles was now in front of your vision.
The soldat didn’t bother to take his combat boots off before sliding into bed with you. He kneeled on the mattress, denting it.
You waited in anticipation, legs slightly parted, breath coming in slow gasps as heat filled your entire body.
“Remove your shorts. Or is it too painful?” In a way, he’s mocking you, a way of saying you will always need his help. If you weren’t drunk off him right now, you’d recoil. Sober you would not have heat pooling in her core right now.
“Hurts- Soldat. Please take them off.” You wiggled your hips to emphasize. The soldats mask covers his face, muffling the groan he made when sliding the fabric off your legs.
Your body jolted when cold metal fingers met your clothed core. You tried your best to hold in the moan you held in your throat.
“Shh…quiet, кролик” You know there’s blood on your panties, you know the soldat does too.
Except, he doesn't seem to give a shit. His fingers prod at your entrance before removing your panties entirely, along with the pad stuck to them.
The soldat looks at your cunt, the mask hiding any real facial expression. You shiver from the cold air hitting your exposed folds.
He takes two metal fingers and slides them through your folds, gathering both blood and slick. The soldat purrs as you whine. “Relax -Going to hurt, stay still.”
You do as you are told, unable to stop the soldat as he places a flesh hand against your stomach, while two metal digits slide into your cunt.
"Beautiful, sweetheart.” The Soldat hums, pushing down just a little on your tummy as the digits slowly slide in and out of you. The pain eases at whatever he’s doing to you, and pleasure becomes more prominent.
You can hear the sound of your slick as he fingers you, your back arching off the bed as he picks up the pace, adding more pressure to your stomach. “Good, кролик. Right there.”
“Doing so well for your soldat. -think you can cum for him? Hmm?”
Fuck. The edge is so fucking close and your itching to barrel over it. The soldier can feel your cunt squeezing his fingers and can see the look in your eyes as you're about to come.
His metal digits speed up, going at a pace that is sure to push you over the edge. He releases his flesh hand from your stomach to pinch your aching clit.
It’s over from there. “Soldat! Soldat- fuck ” you cry out, heart pumping and legs shaking as he works you through it, pumping his fingers in and out of you.
“So good for your soldat. Look so pretty when you come for him, so beautiful.” The soldat slides his fingers out of you, wiping your juices on his pant leg.
The soldier undoes his belt buckle, sliding off the weapon-studded pants and throwing them into the darkness of the bedroom. His cock is throbbing, angry, and red.
“Ready to be bred, Кролик? Take all you're given?” His boxers are next, his metal hand wraps around the waistband. The fabric is torn from his body in one snap.
Your legs shake and your hips squirm as he lines his cock up with your entrance, his body crowding over you, balancing himself with a hand on the headboard. “You're so wet. I bet I’d just…”
His cock nudges your fold, “-Slide right in.” The pain hits you immediately as the soldat bottoms out. You can hear him curse in Russian under the mask, as he rests his head on your shoulder.
Skin meets skin as he gives time for you to adjust to his size. You’ve taken him many times before, but it’s different on your cycle.
It’s like your womb opens up a little more for him.
“So good, sweetheart.” He moans, sliding out to just half of his length before snapping his hips to you. You can feel everything. Every throbbing vein on his cock, every breath he groans through his mask.
The Soldat always has a primal urge when you're bleeding, he needs to come inside you, needs to breed your cunt.
He wants to mark you as his.
“Soldat-" you moan, feeling his cock slide out another couple of inches, until he’s balls deep again, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock.
The entire bed shakes with the force of the soldat fucking you, and he fucks you hard. He’s so needy, desperate to fill you up with his seed. His moans and groans do not go unheard as his flesh hand presses on your stomach.
“Watch me fuck you, Кролик. See me sliding in and out?” All you can do is nod your head, words do not come easily.
Winter Soldier presses that hand on your tummy, pushing down as he stills, balls pressed to your skin as his cock twitches inside of you. “Feel me in your guts."
A few more thrusts has you clamping down on his cock, and when the soldier feels it, he goes fucking feral.
“Milk your Soldat's cock while he fills up your pretty pussy.” The soldier does exactly as he promises, shooting rope after rope of cum inside you.
Later, he flips you on your back so your pressed to his muscled chest, cock stuffing you full, keeping his load inside you. The Soldat mutters something like, “helps with the pain.”
And damn him, he’s right.
#fanfic#masterlist#oneshot#marvel#smut#buckbarnes#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky x reader#buckybarnessmut#winter solider smut#fluff#the winter soldier#wintersoldier#winter soldier smut#period fic#buckybarnesperiodfic
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fem!reader (18+)
bucky barnes is the type of guy that gravitates towards something softer during sex. he's not one for the animalistic and transactional sentiment of doggy, often finding it unfulfilling and loutish. instead, the intimate and tender actions of missionary are something he much prefers.
just you bare back to the sheets, arms and legs lazily enveloped around bucky's hovering body - his lower half nicely slotted between your spread thighs. cock snuggly wedged in you, tip kissing at your cervix.
he's so far inside - your walls melting around his girth, holding him comfortably within the warmth of your sweet, pretty pussy. he's slow with it, the roll of his hips almost non-existent, just keeping himself plunged inside. nothing but a slow and leisure pace. taking his time.
he'd be close to you, almost folding you in half. the tops of his upper thighs pressed up against the underside of your own, elbows anchored either side of your head, carrying his weight. his forehead tucked into the crook of your neck, muttering tender, loving praises into your skin. reassuring his niceties with trails of kisses, tilting your head back further into the pillow to allow him more space to your throat.
he'd admire the vulnerability of it all. to see your face while he's so deep inside of you. to see your eyes soften and brows twist, features becoming pliant under his enamoured gaze. to see you clamp on your lips when you try to keep it down. none of it would go unappreciated.
he'd feel so much love for you. so much care in that moment. the way you look up at him, eyes so trusting and full of warmth, fingers mindlessly grazing his scalp - it all sends him to a place of comfort. a place of solace.
the roll of his hips would remain unrushed, winding into you with no deliberation, no pattern - no purpose other than to feel you. to hold you. his lips on yours, lazily working over them. swallowing each other's sounds, moans muffling against your tongues.
he'd whisper against your lips, words hoarse and murmured, telling you how beautiful you look - how pretty you sound. praising and complimenting you while he's so fucking you so slow and deep.
he would temporarily divert his attention elsewhere, trailing a messy line of soft, wet suckles along your jaw and down the other side of your throat. going along your collarbone til he reaches the tops of your tits. he'd pepper the soft, supple skin with kisses, featherlight and weightless, just faint pecks going around - avoiding the nipple.
his weight would shift, now balancing on his left metal arm, the other sliding down your side to hook behind your arching back, bringing you closer to his face - holding you there. worshipping your tits.
the sounds of hushed moans and wet clicking fill the room, just strangled breaths muffling as he fucks you nice and slow.
#SORRY ANOTHER ONE just need to write him to get him out my system then I’ll be good (lies)#bucky barnes smut#bucky smut#bucky x reader smut#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes#winter soldier smut
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Longing
Summary// A long week needs more than just cuddling
Warnings// fluff, smut, soft Bucky, basically just fluffy smut with very little plot
AU// Stripper!Bucky x Innocent!F!Reader
Note// there is most likely some mistakes, this was written in like 30 minutes so it’s short and simple 😅 it’s been a long 6 weeks and this pelvic rest shit is for the birds hrjsiwnt
It’d been a long week.
One that made you crave affection to the point that cuddling during a movie just wasn’t enough. Bucky seeming to pick up on just that.
His chest warm against yours and familiar fullness starting to satiate the craving, cold and warm fingers gliding along your skin as sweet nothings filled your ears between featherlight kisses along your skin.
It was soft and sweet, Bucky barely rocking his hips to elicit quiet moans. His bulbous tip pressing just right into a sweet spot that gradually built the pressure in your lower belly.
You were sure you’d never get over how his skin felt against your hands- smooth and taut over perfect muscle that tensed under your touch. He always emphasized over how obsessed he’d been with you but he’d never understand just how mutual the feeling was.
“So perfect, bunny.” Bucky murmured against your lips, a stutter to the rhythm of his hips when he felt the flutter of your walls around him. “Can feel you squeezing me. Let go, baby.”
The light tug to his hair elicited a deep groan, the sound vibrating from his chest to your own as your legs tightened around his waist. The euphoric feeling washing over you as he worked you through it with gentle thrusts, the metal bar on the underside of his cock sliding against the rough patch furthest in your walls.
He cherished moments like this; taking his time to feel every inch of you. Waiting for you to start coming down from your high before his fingers would dig into the plush flesh of your hip and he’d work towards his own. Pressing as deep as he could before spilling into you with a low moan.
He wasn’t in a hurry to move from between your legs. A shiver rolling down his spine when your fingers ghosted along his sides and you smiled up at him.
Both fully aware this was just the start of a sleepless night.
#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky imagine#bucky barnes smut#bucky#bucky barnes fanfiction#winter soldier smut#bucky barnes marvel#stripper!bucky smut#stripper!bucky x innocent!reader#stripper!bucky fluff#stripper!bucky
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can't fight the moonlight
kinktober, day twenty-nine
a/n: this one was a fantasy that was so fuzzy and took a surprisingly long time to figure out, but the hazy dream of it kept me going till i solved the puzzle
summary: it didn’t matter what you did or how hard you tried, you had no way of overpowering the beast the moonlight turned him into.
warnings: werewolf!bucky barnes x reader, smut, bucky's wolf form is very humanoid looking (think more teen wolf, less twilight), dubcon/noncon, predator/prey, established relationship, monsterfucking, little to no foreplay, dirty talk, squirting, overstimulation, cock drunk, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, forced breeding, belly bulge, size kink, size difference
word count: 2345
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023
“…and you’ve got some water in case you get thirsty and-, oh! Do you have something to eat? A snack or something?” you blabbered tensely as you helped lock the heavy chains that your partner snaked securely around his own limbs, bolting him to the cold basement for the night, “because I could go make you-”
Letting the iron in his grasp suddenly fall to the floor in a loud clang, like a volcano he exploded, “no!” heatedly throwing his hands up as he fumed, “I don’t need a fucking snack, would you just-…” catching your wide eyes, his sudden anger thawed a bit as he finally heard his own words, “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” you clutched your hands close to your chest, the keys tight in them dug into your palms.
Head lightly tilting to the side, Bucky let out a sigh, “you’re just trying to help and I’m-”
“It’s okay, I know,” you reassured him, “it’s the moon, I get it, don’t worry, darling,” you averted your gaze, staring down at the cold concrete floor, “I’m sorry about freaking out, like I do every month, but I just wanna do something that can make this better for you, even a little bit, anything, even though I know that there isn’t anything that can, I still can’t stop trying because I hate this,” you heard your voice grow thick and tears begin to blur up your vision, “I really really hate this.”
“Y/n…” you felt his fingers gently graze your cheek, bringing your glossy gaze back up to his, “you are helping, more than you even know. Before I met you, before you moved in and started being here every full moon, I was always terrified of getting out, terrified that I couldn’t detain myself enough and someone would end up getting hurt or worse… but I’m not scared of that anymore. It hasn’t happened once since you’ve been here to bolt the chains I can’t get to on my own and lock the doors from the other side. Plus knowing that you’ll be here when the sun eventually comes up, I hold onto that, no matter how painful it gets or how much I disappear, that fact doesn’t, it stays with me, keeps me somewhat sane throughout the night.”
Letting out a shaky breath, you blinked away the mist in your eyes, trying to be brave as you uttered, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he exhaled, gazing at you as you leaned in to seal the final padlock with a click. Getting up to your feet, you stepped towards the door, but your fingers froze on the knob as Bucky’s voice filled the cellar once more, “try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in a bit.”
Glancing over your shoulder at his shackled frame, sitting against the wall, skin already glistening from the pending trauma, you promised, “okay,” even though you knew this night wouldn’t be any different from the rest.
You could never sleep when the moon was full, never even relax enough to rest for a bit. Even though the layers of resources that encased the basement silenced Bucky’s screams of agony from the rest of the neighbourhood as well as your own ears, just the knowledge that only one floor below where you were trying to slumber, there your beloved laid in pain as every single bone in his body had to break before he could turn into a monster of the moon, that awareness kept you up better than any caffeine could.
Locking the solid steel door behind you, so you repeated with the one atop the wonky staircase, the rest of the house suddenly feeling so cold without his presence.
Still clad in garb you’d worn to work, you couldn’t bother to change out of it even if the dress and stockings weren’t the most comfortable clothing to do an all-nighter in, you just seized the grey cabled cardigan draped over the armchair by the fireplace and shrugged it over top.
Holding the kettle under the tap to fill it up, your weary vision locked on the ominous sphere looming in the night sky clearly visible from the kitchen window. Losing yourself to the sight, too absorbed by the troubling thoughts it brought on, you only snapped out of the trance when cold water began to flow over the side of the pot and soak your hand that clutched it.
“Oh, shit…” you mumbled as you hurried to turn off the water and pour some of the abundances back out into the sink.
Placing it down on the stovetop, you listened to the gentle clicking that emanated before the eventual flame as you turned the knob. The slight heat radiating beneath the kettle persuaded you to shift into the living room and with the flick of a match, light the fireplace, granting yourself more of that soothing heat to help battle the night.
You nearly jumped out of your skin when the water came to a boil, kettle whistling like a demon to relay the message.
With a mug of tea in your hand, you curled up in the chair by the fire and picked up the half-read book discarded on the small side table.
This was the routine, even though you never could concentrate, you still at least tried to distract yourself.
A sudden bang ripped your eyes away from the page they had glazed over four times by now. Your vision instantly trained on the door to the cellar, clearly visible from where you were sitting.
As the door then began to rattle rhythmically from an unyielding force, your body jumped at every thud, the novel in your grasp tumbling to the floor.
Frozen in your seat, you watched as the door splintered, swiftly losing the short-lived battle and flying off its hinges.
With heavy footsteps, Bucky’s visage stepped into the light, except it wasn’t the Bucky you knew, not one you’d seen with your own eyes, but only ever heard tales about.
At first, you thought he still looked like himself, but as the firelight flickered across his form, you finally noticed just how altered he was. His natural body hair had quadrupled, fuzzing up his visage and the rippling muscles that hid beneath it, those as well seeming to have swelled up making his frame nearly unrecognisable. Though he always towered above your comparative stature, his height now was something else entirely. The sight of his eyes chilled you to the very bone, the calming blue was completely drowned out by a sea of black, with only a tiny golden flicker in the middle differentiating the obsidian. Nails long and tough like claws, broken chains still clung to his form as you watched his lip curl, a low growl rumbling throughout the room and letting you catch sight of his sharp teeth.
Scarcely breathing at all, your hopes of him not noticing your presence began to fade as he predatorily sniffed the air.
Your eyes suddenly grew wide as you spotted a part of him begin to swell up and come into the light. Throbbing, his unusually grand length intimidatingly curved upwards, it too haven grown just as the rest of his body had.
Finally breaking through your terror, you sprung up and tried your best to run, though you didn’t get far as, within mere seconds, the natural hunter caught up to you and tackled you down to the ground, shredding the cosy knit you wore in the process.
Cheek smooshed against the floorboards, you trembled beneath his beefy form as his flaming chest pressed against your back, knowing full well that if you made one wrong move, aggravated him in any sort of way, he could snap you like a twig. It didn’t matter what you did or how hard you tried, you had no way of overpowering the beast the moonlight turned him into.
As your eyes flickered to the front door, it dawned on you that if he could break not only the chain that bound him, but also the strong basement doors, then the last barrier that kept him from the outside world wouldn’t even make him break a sweat.
Growling directly in your ear, you felt his agitated breath fan across your face as his nose buried itself in your hair. Starved sniffs slowly travelling south, your heart nearly burst out of your chest as you felt him rip your clothes to shreds. Dress tattered and hanging off of you, your underwear swiftly disintegrated completely as only your stocking truly survived the attack, still clinging around your quivering thighs with only the smallest of tears to tell the tale.
Grinding desperately against the curve of your form, his monstrous girth nudged against you, catching you off guard as even in this petrifying form, you still felt your body respond to him.
“Bucky, Buck!” your voice squeaked in an attempt at breaking through to him, “it’s me! It’s me! It’s Y/n!” wildly flipping you over and roughly aligning himself with your core, you desperately tried to catch his dark eyes and try again, “Bucky, please!”
Joints locking up at the sound of your shrill cry, a flicker of reignition washed over his haunting glare, softening it slightly as you finally heard him speak, “…Y/n?” his voice was much lower than you’d ever heard it, though very much still his, “oh, fuck… I-…” a shaky breath escaped his lungs as he hovered above you, the tip of his cock nuzzled between your folds, “…I don’t think I can stop…” he grunted, his hand right beside your head digging into the floorboards and leaving splintery scratches in its wake, “I can’t fight it, I’m trying, but-”
“It's okay,” you carefully reached up and touched his cheek. You couldn’t let him run out that door and take some innocent lives. At this moment, all of his focus was aimed at you, so if it could just stay there and not stray till the sun came up, if you could distract him for only a little while longer, then the night might end without any unnecessary bloodshed. So, therefore, you gave in, “I love you, I love you so much,” your glistening eyes blinked up at him as you tried to speak with confidence, “you’re not gonna hurt me, I know you’re not. It’s okay, it’s-”
Plunging into you, an almost animalistic noise accompanied his harsh action as the beast he’d become seized exactly what it desired. All of the air got pushed out of your lungs as he buried himself in you, stretching you out beyond belief and forcing a shuttering cry to tumble from your lips.
Never mind the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom, a thing the two of you had always been careful about, that detail fought to penetrate through the fog he sent you into. Stunned that you could even take it all, the sensation of him made your mind melt. You felt all of it. Every vein and every ridge, every jaw-dropping detail that decorated his monstrous cock drove you to madness.
“Fuck!” he snarled, bucking his hips so hard against yours that your whole body shook, the sloppy clapping of skin against skin filled the home as he greedily rammed against the deepest spot inside of you, “do you have any idea how long I’ve tried to break out of those chains?” leaning down closer, he inhaled deeply, “I can fucking smell you…” you shivered as his nose ghosted against yours, “all the way down in the basement, no matter where you are, I can always smell you… calling for me, begging me to come and rip you apart…”
Leaning back again, his bruising grip found your hips and plucked them up, holding them tight as the rest of you still laid melted against the floor like a puddle before him. Like a ragdoll in his grasp, he moved your body, fucking your drooling pussy like the ravenous beast he was.
As your eyes fluttered down to where he virtually split you in two, the dull bulge that rhythmically appeared in your lower stomach at each and every one of his ruthless thrusts caught your attention, the vision making you dizzy.
You had never felt like this, never felt anything so intense in your whole life. He was just so menacing, so magnetic, so massive. Your own enthusiasm caught you by surprise, especially as your cunt soon began to cry out around him, showing your living room floor in your want as you squirted all over his rock-hard girth.
Usually, Bucky would slow down and give you a moment whenever you had an orgasm, but in this moment, tonight, it wasn’t your Bucky that was pounding the living hell out of you, it was someone else, something else, and that creature only seemed to get even more riled up by your lewd display as he picked up his speed till his gravelly groans grew louder and his efforts began to go sloppy.
“Please, Buck,” you mumbly pleaded, picking up on his telltale signs through your cock drunk haze, “not inside.”
But he didn’t listen to you as he just kept on fucking you till he pumped your pussy full of his cum.
Panting and puffing above you, he still kept up shallow thrusts, rocking you against him and pushing his load out of your overly sensitive cunt with every piercing plunge.
“Buck?” you heard yourself uttered as you found his dark gaze, though what stared back at you was not your love anymore as there was no recognition to be found in his eyes at all.
Slamming you back against him hard enough for it to sting, you shuttered at the possibility that he was nowhere near done satisfying his carnal desire.
But just before he could ruin you completely, a sliver of light began to dawn on the far side wall. Glancing out the window, you barely managed to spot the morning crest over the treetops in the distance.
© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble
#lea’s writing#kinktober 2023#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x you#werewolf!bucky barnes#dark!bucky smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x y/n#werewolf!bucky#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fanfic#winter soldier smut#bucky barnes au#dark!bucky barnes#dark!bucky x reader#dark!bucky x you
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