#the winter solider x reader
cold sunday morning - b.b
summary: another beautiful sunday morning with bucky
pairing: bucky barnes x librarian!female!reader
warning: shy!reader, unprotected sex, bucky finishes inside reader, smut
(18+ minors DNI)
an: last part of my bucky series yay! thank you for all the love you guys have given this series! also first time writing smut in a long time and my first time writing it for marvel characters so bare with me!!! enjoy!!! :) (also still on vacation so didnt have a ton of time to edit)
part one | part two | part three
“C’mon, doll, you have to get up.”
It’s been about a month since Bucky asked you to be his girlfriend, which obviously you said yes. Not much has changed between the two of you. He still came and saw you everyday at the library. Saturday nights he stayed at your place, so he was there to help you on Sunday’s.
You pulled the comforter over your head, as though it would protect you from anymore of Bucky’s attempts to wake you up. Getting up early had never been an issue for you, but the nights you shared a bed with him, that completely changed. For two reasons. One, the two of you tended to stay up later than when you two were separated. Two, his presence was so warm and inviting, making you never want to leave.
“We have to leave in forty-five minutes.” You heard his voice in between sleep, his metal hand creeping under the duvet and placed on your exposed leg. The cool metal against your warm skin caught you off guard, a tired gasp passing your lips. He pulled the comforter from your grip, quite easily, and you whined at the brightness in the room.
Finally, you forced your eyes open, immediately met with Bucky’s bright blue ones. He was kneeling down by your side of the bed, head propped up on his chin, only a couple inches from your face. You could feel his cool thumb rubbing against your leg. “Hi.” He said, a smile on his face. It was hard for you to resist smiling back at him, but you tried your best. “I can see you smiling.” He insisted.
“No I’m not.” Trying to stifle any laughter, you buried your head into your pillow. “I will forcibly pick you up out of this bed.” You heard him threaten, and stand up from his kneeling position. “Fine.” You huffed, sitting up in your bed. Stretching your arms over your head and your legs out in front of you. “I’m stealing some of your cereal.” He said, exiting your room and walking towards the kitchen.
You weren’t far behind him, navigating through your apartment by memory, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. There was the sound of bowls clinking together, and rummaging through cabinets. The kitchen was brighter than your bedroom, making you grunt at the sudden light change.
Finally after some adjusting, your eyes started to function normally. Bucky was standing in the middle of your kitchen, eating his breakfast at the island. “I poured you some cereal, but I don’t know how much milk you like.” He explained, using his milk-covered spoon to point towards your bowl. After filling up the bowl, you brought it towards the island to stand with Bucky.
“How long have you been awake?” You asked him, before bringing a spoonful up to your mouth. “I woke up at like six.” Bucky always woke up super early, no matter what time he went to bed. That man could function off four hours of sleep with no problem. “Did you go on a run?” He nodded. That was also something he did every morning, when weather permitted.
The two of you enjoyed your breakfast together, before getting dressed so you could head to the library. “Oh my gosh, you own a pair of blue jeans.” You said jokingly, acting shocked. Bucky rolled his eyes at you, buttoning up his pants. Ever since you met him, he had only worn black pants. He was pairing, well obviously blue jeans, but also, a navy blue long-sleeve undershirt with a grey shirt sleeve over top.
It was colder in New York now, so Bucky ditched his bike and settled for an enclosed vehicle for the next couple months. You did most of the driving when you two were together though, which you didn’t mind. On cold days like today, Bucky always went out and started your car for you, so it was warmed up by the time you were ready to leave. Which you appreciated so much.
“It’s freezing.” Your teeth chattered walking into the library. The building was so old it barely held any heat in it, but you chucked up the thermostat anyway. Even Bucky pulled on his leather jacket. “Is there any insulation left in this place?” He asked sarcastically, wrapping his arms around himself. “Well, this place is older than you, so I’m sure it’s all disintegrated in the walls by now.”
It took awhile for the heat to kick in, but as said earlier, it didn’t warm up as much as you wanted it to. Bucky and you put books away, him reaching the shelves you could not. You had gotten so cold that you searched for the blanket you kept under your desk, and wrapped it around yourself.
“I can’t feel my fingers.” You laughed, placing your cold fingers against Bucky’s face. He jerked away from you, making you laugh. “C’mere.” Was all he said, his metal hand grabbing yours, which was a lot colder than yours. You had an idea as to where he was taking you. There was a little couch closer to the back of the library. It was somewhere that if you didn’t know where you were going, you would get lost in all the shelves.
You soon proved yourself right as you caught sight of the old dark green couch. He released your hand, and took a seat in the middle of the couch. “Sit on my lap, I’ll warm you up.” He explained, putting his hands out like he was asking for a hug. You shot your eyebrow up at him. He rolled his eyes, “Fine.”
His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him, so the front of your calves touched the couch. You stared at him, and he beckoned you to sit one last time. Giving in, you put each knee on the outside of his hips, so that your chests were together. You wrapped your hands around his abdomen, and you felt the blanket be pulled tighter against your back.
Between Buck and the blanket, you began to warm up, regaining some of the feeling back in your fingers. Letting out a content sigh, you rested your head into the crook of his neck. He kept his metal hand off to the side, not wanting to accidently shock you with its cold nature. His right hand, rubbed up and down your back. Basically lulling you to sleep.
“We can’t nap.” Removing your head from between his shoulder and neck, and looking at him. His eyes were closed and head tipped back against the sofa. “We’re not, we’re resting our eyes.” He insisted, not moving. “Well, I’m gonna go back to cleaning.” You tried to get up, but his hands flew to your waist, his head still not moving. “No.” Was all he said.
His grip was tight, and you were no match for his strength, maybe with his right hand, but definitely not his left hand. But you had the upper hand in one sense. Something the super soldier didn’t want anyone to know was that he was actually quite ticklish. You found this out in quite a funny way.
The two of you were watching a movie on your couch. His head was resting on your chest, and you were scratching his back. Without thinking, you ran your fingers down his sides, and he flipped out. You completely forgot about the movie and spent the next twenty minutes trying to tickle him, but it was to no avail. Once he was fed up with your attempts, he used his vibranium hand to lock your hands above your head, and they weren’t budging. After that things escalated quite quickly, and ever since then he’s used that hand on you quite a bit.
And you thought it would be a good idea to try and crack the tough facade Bucky had once again, knowing one of his weaknesses. To evade any suspicion, you placed your head back onto his chest. You slowly unwrapped your arms from around his abdomen, making his grip tighten on your waist. “I’m not going anywhere, chill out.”
Your hands slowly grabbed the bottom of his shirt, slipping your hands underneath his undershirt. “What’re you doing?” He asked, not moving. “My hands are cold, I need skin to skin contact.” He sucked in a quick breath, as your hands made contact with the warm skin of his chest. You waited a couple minutes, before slowly moving your hands outward. “Hey.” He warned, head tipping forward to look down at you.
You dodged his eye contact, still moving your hands. Right as you reached his side, he moved fast. His hands removed their tight grip from your waist, quickly to your wrist, through his shirt. You could hear the whirring of the mechanics in his arm due to his fast movement. “Do you remember what happened last time you did that?”
His lips were right next to your ear, breath warm against your cheek. His voice was low, like a growl. Your cold body, quickly warmed up at his words. A sudden ache grew between your thighs, warmth growing in your lower abdomen. You were never one for dirty talk, it made you feel uncomfortable most of the time. But something clicked at that moment.
“No, I think I need a reminder.” You still couldn’t meet his eyes when saying it, but you felt him tense up. His metal index pressed under your chin, making you meet his gaze. His eyes were a darker blue than normal, his stare was intimidating, so you tried to look away. But he wouldn’t let you. He gripped your chin tighter, now between his thumb and index finger.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, doll.” He chuckled, his lips were unbelievably soft. You could still taste the coffee he drank this morning. The kisses were light, but needy. His grip on your right wrist loosened, enough for you to tangle your fingers in his hair. Bucky’s hand left your chin, and played with the bottom of your shirt.
His hands trailed up your abdomen, towards your chest and you nipped his bottom lip between your teeth. Making a small groan pass his lips. You expect his hands to stop at your breast, but instead his index fingers locked around each of your bra straps, slowly pulling them down your shoulders. They fell to your elbows, his hand sneaking towards you back and unsnapped the clasps of your bra, letting it fall into his lap.
His fingers trailed back towards your breast, his thumbs circling your nipples. Subconsciously, you moaned, feeling more arousal seep into your panties. Using the hand tangled in his hair, you pulled his head back, exposing all of his neck to you. Your nose traced down the side of his throat, lips skimming over the sensitive skin, but not giving in with kisses.
He kneaded your breast with his palms and fingers, paying extra attention to your nipples, knowing it made you much more reactive. You desperately ground your hips against the rough fabric of his jeans. You heard him chuckle, but it went in one ear and out the other. It wasn’t until he spoke that you were pulled out of your trance, “Stand up.”
You didn’t protest, although your legs were shaking with anticipation, you stood in front of him. Using his shoulders to stabilize yourself. He tossed your bra from his lap, and scooted so that he was sitting on the edge of the couch. His hands ran up and down the side of your legs for a while, before they slowly stretched over your ass. The tightness of his grip, shocked you, your hands tightening their grip on his shoulders. He laughed at your gasp.
“I hate you.” You muttered, squeezing his shoulders. Without a word, he gripped the waistband of your leggings, and panties, pulling them down to your ankles. With a mixture between a grunt and a gasp, he pulled you back onto his lap. “Don’t say that, doll.” He had a pout on his face, but he was definitely poking fun. “You’re an ass.” You smirked, pulling his lips against yours.
His metal hand gripped your hip, keeping you on your knees and hovering over his lap. His flesh hand dipped between your legs, his thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing in small, circular motions. Your moan broke the kiss, only becoming more and more frequent as he quickened his pace. A tightening feeling grew in the stomach. As an instinct, you buried your face in the crook on his neck.
He stopped his movements, you whined at the fleeting feeling between your legs. “I wanna see your face, baby.” His voice was smooth and deeper than normal. Retracting slowly from his neck, you were soon back face to face. “There you are.” He muttered, his metal hand coming up to grab the side of your face. His thumb rested against your bottom lip. Placing the cool metal
between your teeth, the tip of your tongue circled the thumb pad, following the grooves of the metal.
A mixture of a growl and a groan fell past his lips, making a sense of confidence swell. His right hand started up again, making your knees buckle for a moment. His index finger pressing between your folds, accumulating the falling arousal. His slick finger pushes inside you slowly, causing you to suck in a quick breath. He gives you a couple seconds to adjust before, ever so slowly, pumping it in and out.
“Holy shit.” You mutter, pressing your forehead against his. A whine passed your lips, making him quicken his pace. His thumb works over time, the circular motions becoming more sloppy. One of your hands falls to his blue jeans, thumb and index finger fiddling with the button. “Not yet.” Was all he said, a huff of irritation passing your lips.
You felt the tightening appear back in your stomach, “Buck, I-“ That was all you could muster, but he understood. Tightly you clenched around his finger, ragged breaths passing your lips. Your eyes screwed shut, and your head tipped back. Bucky took the opportunity to kiss along your throat, adding to the wave of pleasure. Your chest rose and fell at a rapid rate, as you came down from the rush. His finger soon left, making you feel empty.
His finger glistened as he brought it up to his lips, pushing it past them, licking it clean. The sight made your jaw drop, he hummed, content. “You’re a sicko.” You laughed, although it turned you on immensely. “I could do that forever.” He muttered against your lips, before slotting them together. You could taste some of yourself on his tongue, and he knew that.
Now both of your hands worked at the button of his pants, getting it undone, along with the zipper. “Already?” He chuckled. It usually takes you a couple minutes to recover and then starting round two, but not today. You pulled both of your knees to one side, making it easier for him to pull down his pants. When he did, his dick sprang free. He pulled you back over his waist, and you lined him up with your entrance.
As he went to guide your hips again you stopped him, he looked up at you, worried. “I wanna do it.” You caught him off guard, but he looked pleased, nonetheless. “You’re in control, doll.” He smiled, tipping his head back against the couch again. Grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself, sinking slowly onto his dick. The noises that left Bucky’s mouth made you feel accomplished already. His thumbs dug deeper into your hip bones, knowing it would leave a mark.
“Fuck, doll.” Tipping his head back towards you, meeting your gaze. You came back up on your knees, so that the tip was the only thing still inside you. Teasing him, slowly sinking back down. A strangled moan came up his throat, egging you on. You were able to do this a couple more times, before his grip on your hips stopped you.
“You’ve lost privileges.” He announced, forcing you back down his entire length. This knocked the breath out of you for a moment. Using the leverage of your hips, he guided you up and down his dick, that tension building in your stomach again. “Bucky…” You moaned, dragging out the ‘y’ in his name. His thrust got more sloppy and he wasn’t able to keep his rhythm as well, he was close.
You helped him keep pace as he was building up his orgasm. “(Y/F/N), holy shit, you’re so tight.” His metal hand left your hip, when he noticed your help, and began to draw those tight circles on your clit again. Between his dick and fingers, you were done for. The bundle in your stomach burst, and you clenched around him. Even wrapped up in your own high, you felt his hips stop. He emptied himself inside you.
The two of you sat there for a couple moments, catching your breaths. Each part of your body felt heavy, and you were unwilling to move, Bucky still inside you. “I could go for a nap now.” You mumbled, putting your head on his chest. He laughed, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “Me too.” He wrapped his arms around you.
“At least we’re not cold anymore.”
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Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land - Bucky Barnes x Reader
Hello to all beautiful people! Happy pride month my lovelies!!! This has been in my head, forever and I couldn't get past it. Every time I wanted to write something else, this was right there to remind me...
This is the first part. The second one is being written right now.
Warnings: My English. Everyone is alive, just cuz.
Word Count~ 9k+
Summary: It would turn out to be the most difficult thing you had ever done, but you didn’t know that. Your heart would break into many pieces, nowhere to be found, but you didn't know that. Not one moment of your life had remotely prepared you for what was about to come. You were told it was a simple and easy mission. You were reassured everything would be alright because there was no chance whatsoever to fail – it was considered to be an effortless, straightforward mission. After all, how hard could it be – it was just one file, go in, grab it, get the hell out and return home safely and fast. Unfortunately, no one had ever informed you about the circumstances under which you would have to act. Because playing a part was easy, playing people…that was another story completely. SPOILER WARNING - Time travel kinda fic!
Part I – Oblivion.
It was one of the few moments of serenity everyone would enjoy, partly because they were so rare. No wars to be fought, no worries to be dealt with, no missions to be completed. That to the Avengers meant sleep and training, while to you meant more babysitting than usual. Fury had appointed you and trusted you enough to report back to him, anything out of the ordinary. Your job had gotten pretty boring, pretty fast – most of them were never around, anyway. Days like this one, however, were testing your patience – and loyalty.
Even though he did not appreciate your calculating eye, at first, Tony was more than happy to give you your own room and enough freedom to run around the tower as if it was your own home. Well, after a certain point, it became your home, since you moved your things out of the rented apartment; you weren’t spending any time there, anyways. You usually stayed within your boundaries and only recorded anything really off, because soon enough you learned that they were a quirky bunch of people, getting closer as the years rolled by, even fighting like a family would.
Natasha called you a friend, and that was one of the highest honors achieved. Tony would let you play with his tools even though you had absolutely no idea what most of them did and Steve had offered to train you. Come to think of it, thank God he did. Wanda and Pietro, really felt like the siblings you never had, although Pietro was a flirtatious little shit. Vision was the wise uncle and Thor, when he happened to pop by, was a literal God. Bruce was always so timid and flustered by Natasha.
But then a stranger came in. Just when you had decided that you would never find the courage to ask Steve out, someone else invaded your space like nothing you had ever experienced before; and he was never really close to you, physically.
You only caught glimpses, bits, and pieces of that man, at first. You knew that Tony did not trust him at all and that Steve trusted him enough for the both of them. You knew he had a metal arm and he was called “Winter Soldier” by Tony, but Nat and Steve called him Bucky. Wanda seemed interested because for once she could not read a mind. At that, you called Fury and he was as cryptic as ever, only informing you to stay on your feet. Your gut was nudging you to do your own research but at the same time, why bother when the research material was few doors away?
You did find out about everything, eventually, mainly because you kept asking everyone up to the point that drove them insane. Once you saw his face, you knew why they were keeping him low-key monitored 24/7. He was accused of many things, that was without a question. You were watching at the live footage of the camera keeping an eye on him and you could swear that he looked straight through the lenses and burnt your face. The thing was… no one was trying to keep you away but he never wanted to get close to you or even greet you. You entered a room, he found another exit. At first, you didn’t think much of it. A person with a shitload of trauma couldn’t socialize… big whoops. But then, it started getting weirder each day.
Honestly, you wouldn’t have paid that much attention, if it wasn’t for Steve apologizing for his behavior only to you. Steve seemed off as well. It was a strange vibe that other times was so ever-present and others… you couldn’t even remember what you were worrying about. It had flooded your mind when you first met him, but again, didn’t think much of it. You were too busy gawking at him to really care about your intuition. And then, once you got used to him being well… him, the same feeling nudged you again sporadically. This was one of those times. You wanted to ask him what was the big deal but you never did.
You shook your head and walked down the aisle towards the kitchen. It was rather late for you but insomnia had taken over again, leaving you a not-so-hot of a mess. Your head was definitely not on your shoulders; you preferred dreaming wide awake, as if in a trance, all those scenarios in your head, wondering what if one of them came true…
You weren’t sure why you ended up in the kitchen, in the first place; your feet had carried you without your permission. You exhaled rather loudly while massaging your temples, eyes shut. Opening them was probably a mistake. You came face to face with blue eyes with a silver tone. Your heartbeat would have picked up if it wasn’t for the exhaustion.
“Hi” you simply offered and took a step back. He squeezed his eyes shut and all but ran away.
“Bye” you said loud enough for the entire tower to listen to you, but your patience had reached its limit. You rolled your eyes at your tactics and his attitude and grabbed a bottle of rosé wine, walking back to your room. Why not the roof, you thought, and up you went.
“I never told you to be besties with her, nut-head. But that’s rude. Even for you” you heard Tony reprimanding someone and your stomach was already in a not. You froze, trying to catch everything you could hear.
“Says you!” Natasha exclaimed, defending…him? It didn’t make sense.
“Stop it. I mean, do you even know if she is loyal to you or someone else?” he questioned but surprisingly enough it wasn’t Steve or Natasha – the two people you thought of as friends – who defended you but Tony.
“Bullshit. You better fix this Rogers. Now” he coldly demanded and exited. Thankfully, the room had another exit and so he didn’t catch you. Not that he couldn't figure it out if he wanted to. You anticipated someone to prove him wrong but no such thing ever happened. However, Natasha said something that kept bothering you for the longest time.
“We both know that’s not why you are shit to her… and you, a coward”. You didn’t sit around for more bickering. Wine down we go, you thought.
“Good morning sunshine” Tony yelled at you, making you wince in pain. You had pulled yourself together and went for “work” – replacing Pepper while she was running the company. So, you did everything Tony threw at you. He was quite the mentor if you were honest. But times like this one really did push your buttons. You pinched the bridge of your nose and looked at him and Steve.
“Hello, obnoxiously loud for your height person” you specifically choose not to include Steve, something he noticed as he arched his eyebrow. Tony caught on pretty fast but instead of staying out of it, he jumped right in.
“Who got your knickers in a twist? No! Don’t tell me! Captain Virgin?” he exclaimed right when Bucky was passing by, making you groan in frustration and facepalm. Steve turned red but kept his composure while his best friend was in shock. Tony seemed rather unphased by the scene. You tried to hand him a file but he raised his hands.
“I don’t like to be handed stuff” he said as if it was the single most mundane thing to say. You looked at him dead in the eye and got up from your seat.
“And I don’t like that I have to put up with everyone’s bullshit. But you don’t see me going like this every time one of you acts like a 5-year-old now, do you?” you said without breathing and slammed the file on the counter, in front of him, leaving the three men in awe and a bit worried.
You started walking away when Steve called for you and made you turn on your heels, approaching him like a shark was approaching its victim. He needed to know that he had hurt you.
“Come on, don’t – ”
“No, no. When you realize that I have been here even before you came along, and start treating me with respect, then I will come back. Until then, good luck sorting out your loyalties – because you should already know mine” you deadpanned and shot Bucky a poisonous glare. For a second there, you saw guilt and pain but you turned around before that second became more.
You stormed out of the tower and walked aimlessly, without really knowing where you went. You walked by the Empire State Building and your feet carried you towards Brooklyn, without you even noticing it. Hangover at its best but you tried to walk it off along with your anger. You passed a couple of coffee shops before you decided to enter one. The ornate facade and all-wood interior, with a dash of stained glass, and its extremely low-key vibe, transported you to an earlier era. It also helped that it was tucked on a street corner in Boerum Hill surrounded by handsome brick townhouses.
Although it had basically the vibes of a bar, it felt familiar and even… comfortable to you. It was called Brooklyn Inn and you had never seen anything online for it. It felt old and vintage but it was so welcoming to you as if you belonged there. You hadn’t planned on staying there but you found a seat by the bar and had the intention of ordering a coffee but you remembered why you run away and instead you ordered a glass of Malbec.
The wine was exquisite; rich, dark, and full-bodied with hints of black cherry, vanilla, and sweet tobacco. You were informed that it started with grapes from France but ended up being produced in Argentina and that the glass you were holding was indeed, French. You found comfort in that and it perplexed you. Your eyes traveled around, looking at all the different people in the pub and how many more would have had their drink here… until your gaze fell on him. You had no idea how to feel or even express that. But how did he find you? He approached you, a bit reserved but not too much. It felt that it was his idea to find you – or at least, you hoped to. You were a sucker for those people… brooding, traumatized and devilishly handsome. He sat down next to you, and you got the feeling that he had done that more times than you could count; it felt natural. Almost everything felt just the way they were supposed to.
When the bartender came to take his order, he greeted him and even held a small talk, which meant two things. Bucky was
capable of talking, just not to you and secondly, he came to this place, quite often too, if you were to judge by the friendliness and the fact that the guy knew what the “usual” meant. He was fucking dushing, you noticed.
“And one more glass of Malbec for the lady” he added right after, leaving you confused as fuck but surprised in a good way, too. You just sat there, looking at your glass, not daring to disturb whatever universe you had entered.
“I am sorry for being a jerk to you” he confessed while the drinks were served. You thanked the bartender and took a sip.
“Try looking at me when you apologize” you softly mused and you noticed a side smile forming on his lips, one that he quickly dropped. To your surprise, he did. And you found yourself captivated by his eyes.
“I am sorry, doll” his mouth betrayed him and your eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. He quickly apologized again and remained silent. You felt so awkward that you let out an airy laugh. It might not have been for you in particular but getting to be called doll but the one James Barnes was on your bucket list. The man in front of you was an infamous flirt back in the day – that much you knew from Steve, when he actually talked to you.
“S’ okay… Sergeant” you commented with an eyebrow slightly arched. He actually blushed at that and you felt very proud. You put down your glass and turned towards him.
“But why? Why were you a jerk? No offense” you quickly added, hoping to get an answer this time. He cleared his throat and adjusted his body as well. You could literally see his brain malfunctioning.
“It’s just that… I don’t know and I am not big on trusting strangers” he said but you didn’t believe it. If he didn’t know you, he could have asked. If he truly didn’t know you, he wouldn’t know where to find you – alright, maybe that was a coincidence, but what about your drink?
“Bullshit” you softly challenged him while looking at him dead in the eye but smiled nonetheless and dropped it. You sat there for a while, enjoying the vibe and the drinks until you took your wallet out to pay and leave. You weren’t sure if it was his manners kicked in, or if it was a force of habit but he stopped you…in a very physical way. He touched your hand and pushed it back – you weren’t even sure he realized it.
“Thank you, but I can pay for my drinks” you said steadily. He gave you a funny look and placed 30 dollar-bill under the receipt.
“I know” he simply commented and he gave you his hand to help you out of your stool. Yeah, you had entered another dimension. Exactly because you were so unprepared for all of it, really, you just complied. And the touch was pushing you further down a slippery slope. He even held the door open for you. “Wait, wait. Why are you being so nice?” you suddenly asked him, making him smile in question.
“Can’t I just be sorry for my attitude?” he questioned. You were about to say no but… oh, well.
“You’re going to poison me? Have you spiked my drink?” you kept asking and he let out a small laugh. He declined every accusation with a ‘nope’. You ended up walking around Brooklyn with him and you didn’t even notice. He was silent for the most part but that didn’t bother you, as you simply let your mind and eyes travel as far as they wanted. Brooklyn was the heart of the entire New York City. It was so oddly familiar to you, even though you hadn’t lived that long there.
“So… you and Steve… he tells me you are close” he tried to make small talk. It took you by surprise the fact that they had talked about you. You thought about the statement for a bit.
“Sure. I mean, obviously, I don’t know him as well as you do, but he’s a good friend” you answered truthfully. He was a very good friend. He was there for you since you met him. Come to think of it, he and Bucky acted exactly alike. Mmm, not exactly, but they both avoided you in the beginning, and then everything was perfect. He too, wouldn’t talk to you, although he did talk to you, just not… in an elaborated way. More like in
the ‘I see you here every day and I have to be polite’ way.
“Oh” it was all he said. The conversation, if one could call it that, died down after that. And it was getting late. You had to return to your job and have a talk with Tony to get him to cooperate and sign the damn contracts he initiated. “This was lovely, weirdly enough. But I do have to get back” you soothed. It was the strangest day for you. Or so you thought. He, on the other hand, had no intention of going back so early.
“Have ever been to Coney Island?” he blurted out, leaving you dumbfounded. You blinked a couple of times before answering.
“No, I don’t think I have” you told him as you crossed the Williamsburg Bridge. He slightly frowned but you really didn’t understand why.
“If you need a guide, I am available” he offered while he took a step back. You really didn't know what to think.
“Brooklyn born and bred, huh?” you joke but he took pride in that. Why wouldn't he, you thought.
“Yes ma'am” he confirmed and left you wondering what the hell just happened.
“I should go. Thank you for... the normality” you waved goodbye. He lowered his head and nodded in agreement. Without another word, you took your separate paths.
You were thinking about how people were constantly moving at quantum speeds, in their minds, in their work, building patterns and seeing past through their everyday lives. Having this socially constructive mentality that they needed to be productive to be seen as equals to their peers. Constantly in motion, to be more and criticizing their imperfections. It felt like a constant need to keep striving forward, but they would eventually lose focus on their true essence, on what their really needed. So caught up in thinking about who they were going to be that they didn’t even recognize who they were right now.
You caught yourself being one of those people and tried to find stillness in your lives, moments of silence, to come back within, to allow the rest of the world to keep moving forward, to see new objectives intuitively flowing through.
The sky was so soft, you felt that it would melt if you touched it. The darkest blue was stained with little balls of color. You wished that you could see the night sky at its glory, without the lights and pollution to destroy the magic. Your room didn’t have the best of views, anyway. You gave up trying to imagine how different the velvet canvas would have looked seventy years ago, and strolled around the compound. Everything was still and serene as if no one was even breathing. You always felt torn between big crowds and solitude, being with company and being alone, living in a big city and leaving everything behind.
He was such a fucking contradiction. He was flirtatious, charming, and romantic, but also introverted and emotional. You could never really know because of how adaptable and changeable he was. You understood his mood swings better than anyone, but it was hard even for you, to keep up with the stream of emotions that never slowed down.
He was someone whose identity had been obliterated by pain—a pain that had destroyed almost every last vestige of his personhood. It was for this reason that he almost never spoke, you thought. He was still fighting whatever HYDRA did to him. You thought of the reoccurring presence of a piercing, metallic scream—a scream that was positively visceral, expressive of a tremendous amount of pain, panic, and fear. Brutal and brutalizing, that noise playing in his head over and over again, impacted him on a palpable, instinctive, organic level, giving sonic form to the blank, numbness inside the Winter Soldier’s mind. He was trying to fight it and you could see that. The demons were still inside, though.
Steve had told you that Bucky was one of the few people that actually recognized what it was that made him good, before his transformation into Captain America. has been made of the fact that Bucky Barnes is one of the few people to recognize the greatness in Steve Rogers before his transformation into Captain America. You saw the way he believed in Steve, too. But you wanted to yell at him that, yes, Steve was great but so was he. He didn’t believe he could achieve that kind of greatness but he didn’t mind, he had plenty of time to come to terms with it, as he had revealed once, a very unholy hour.
And that was exactly what made him great; his selflessness, his choice of friendship instead of jealousy. You were watching him again. From afar, always from afar. Never from near. You watched him and observe the way his hair had grown the last few weeks and how some strands were falling down to his eyes. He brushed them away, harshly, and you wondered how these bruised hands would feel on your skin. His skin glistened warmly like desert sand when the sun caressed him.
You watched bruises fade and reappear, lipstick smeared on collarbones - or was it blood? - his skin shimmering like naked gold, flesh piercing out between his teeth. It was your destiny to watch and fall, to fall and watch. All over again. Watch. Stop. Repeat until internal collapse. This time, he was watching you too. His eyes were blue, a particular kind of blue between the depths of the ocean and the frozen cover of a winter’s lake. A smug
blue that broke through the purple sky like a whispered sunset. Bucky was watching you and he had no intention of averting his eyes and you felt your blood freezing inside your veins. It was a bitter realization of how much power that man held over you. Your body shivered.
You couldn’t prevent it anymore; your eyes were drawn to the sun like a magnetic field that hypnotized you over and over again and you were terrified by the light but you were more terrified of being surrounded by the dark again. You blinked. You sit there, frozen in time, while everyone else became witness of the silent conversation between the two of you, but you had a hard time understanding if it was your heart that hammered beneath your ribcage or if it had stopped.
You were dreaming again. You were daydreaming that there was a gap between reality and something like blood was sticking between the sharp edges of his collarbones but you didn’t mind because his hands were on your neck, on your face, in your hair – “do you want me to touch you? I’ve seen the way you look at me, I want to touch you, be still” - and you were, you were still, you were quiet when he dragged you over to the wall and pushed his knee between your legs and you wanted this, wanted him and his fingers dug painfully in your cheeks and your chin and he held you still, so still you couldn’t move and it hurt…
You shook your head. Your mind was playing with you, mocking your naivety. He was watching but he was only watching, as were you – from afar. Never once getting closer than that.
“Are you okay?” a worried whisper, violently shook you out of your dream. It felt so real; his touch burnt marks and you could swear you knew how they felt.
“Yes” you said as in a trance. Steve didn’t believe you. He knew that answer, he used that answer. He looked at you concerned but you looked at the other man walking behind him, not really paying attention to anything he said. You often wondered if he was able to just… read your mind. It was easy, too easy, to fall for him. He was tender and familiar. He understood so much of his surroundings and experienced deeper than anyone you had known. But you wished you knew if he truly felt – it seemed easier to be numb.
Steve arched an eyebrow and gave you the look, which was actually wasted since you weren’t looking at him. Bucky saw you and didn’t turn away, instead he looked right back at you.
“I have to go” you blurted out and left as fast as your legs could carry you.
“What about Nat?” you heard Steve asking and you swallowed your heart. “It’s different” Bucky simply answered. You stopped breathing so you wouldn’t miss a word.
“How? They are both from your past” Steve offered but your head couldn’t understand what he was saying.
“That’s not true and we both know it” he replied and silence took over. You had taken one step when a response was out there, for you to deal with it.
“Of course, I know. But she doesn’t know and we cannot tell her”.
Days and nights passed by in an everlasting circle. Minutes turned into months and your life moved on. You never asked what was the big secret; you took what they gave you and cherished it. You never lied about anything, you were always there and somehow, you had gained Bucky’s trust. He confided in you, he laughed around you without worrying about what people might think, as did Steve. But they never said a word. You had caught some other weird comments as well but you brushed them off. They would tell you when and if they felt comfortable. You had a pretty vague idea about it and you tested it more than once but never crossed a line.
Little things like small comments about their past, questions asked but never answered, words that didn’t correspond with today… you didn’t really know what to think but you started realizing that something was going on… since before you met them. Maybe they knew a girl with strong opinions and quick temper back in the day and they were projecting. Maybe, they just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. Who could blame them?
Bucky was on the cold tiles of his bathroom and was pressing his hands flat down until the chill crawled up in his bones. He felt burnt and touched and scorched in all the places that he thought had healed a long time ago. Somewhere in the background, the water tap was dripping in tandem with his heart. Drop, drop, drop, your name was spelled…
You had just entered his room, waiting to find him looking outside the window. Instead, you heard the ragged breathing. When he closed his eyes, he saw crime scenes. A marketplace in the afternoon glow. Orange lights switching to red. Honking cars. His lifeless eyes fixed on his target. And the scene always ended with a twist – his target was no longer the bold man; he was no longer the Winter Soldier, it was no longer the present, you were no longer safe.
Drop, drop, drop. Bucky opened his eyes when the sun had long died on the horizon. One of his hands was resting on the tiles – the other wasn’t his. He felt like an emergency. But you kneeled down and sat next to him, with both of your hands on the tiled floor. He remembered a scene that had yet to happen. He wanted it to.
“Tell me you need me”, he said and his lips were shivering against your sunburned skin, “tell me you need me, tell me you can’t fucking breathe without the scent of my cologne or the taste of my skin under your tongue. Tell me”, he said and he was frantic, almost wild in his eyes, “tell me you want me. Tell me you want me so much that it fucking burns inside of you. Tell me you’re not ashamed”, and this time the man was almost begging with his hands roaming all over your face and his eyes blinded from the dying sun, “tell me you love me, please, tell me that all the flesh I burn and all the blood I swallow underwater is worth it. Tell me you won’t leave me”, he whispered and something tasted acid like bile and salty like tears in the back of your throat and the air was unusually hot, and each of his words left knife marks between the hollows of your ribs.
“Tell me this isn’t all in my head”, the man finally broke out and covered himself with your body like a blanket made of waves and you kissed his eyelids and watched as the skin under your lips melted to ashes.
“It’s too cold for you” he croaked and you chuckled. You shook your head, and you knew that even in the dead of the night he could see it.
“You’re not too cold for me” you reassured his not spoken worry. He was terrified and you only got a glimpse. Fridays were supposed to be movie nights – the guys educating you in old cinema – but you didn’t mind at all the scene you were witnessing. You slowly approached him and even more reservedly you offered your hand in a kind gesture – he could pick himself up, physically, but sometimes that was not enough. He touched you, grabbing onto your hand for dear life. The lights were off inside his room. He didn’t turn them on and you respected that decision.
It was late; again. In any other scenario, you would consider this romantic but his fragile state made you scared and angry at the people who bent him backward. He sat on his bed and you didn’t dare move from his side. He had been careful enough to hide this part away from you, to hide the panic attacks that came with it, the nightmares, the voices. You sat there in absolute silence until you moved your hand to touch his metal arm. He looked at you as if you were insane – because he was afraid of himself enough for the both of you.
“I’m scared of the darkness inside of me. It is growing, day by day, and I fear the day it consumes me. You called me a hero when we first met, Steve told me… but I feel like I have been the villain all along” he found himself confessing and you had no idea what hit you. You had seen him down, sad even angry but never so… broken. Ready to give up everything.
“I called a hero because no one else would be standing here, sitting next to me, talking about their trauma. I called a hero, not because heroes are pure light – no, because every single one of them is trying to fight the demons inside. Because, you have walked through the gates of hell, into the firepits, and survived to see… not the pearly gates but this mediocre existence, full of mundane little things” you admitted without even realizing what was the very essence of your words.
“I tried to unlearn how to hold the guns and the knives the way they taught me. I tried to unbury myself from all those corpses of people they put above me. I tried to erase them from my system. With scissors and razor blades and butcher knives and broken shards of a mirror. I don’t want to be killed twice” he winced at the thought and you acted out of instinct, cupping his face with your hands and looking deep into his eyes, to see where those demons were hiding and obliterate them any way you could. He was taken aback but didn’t move.
“Do I scare you?” he asked in a small voice, too afraid to destroy the stillness of the moment.
“You could never”.
He lied sleeping next to you, hair messy, body relaxed. You watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, counting the beats in between. Dust settled in the air and you watched it drizzling through the glimmer of white light that shined through the blinds. You wanted to reach out and touch him but you stopped mid-movement. Instead, you touched him with your eyes. Cheeks, nose, collarbone, lips. The air around him tasted like autumn. You wanted to drown in it.
His hand was in your hand and your hand was in his and his lips were on yours and your lips were on his and his fingers touched your skin and yours touched his shoulders and-
You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep. It felt so… right. So real. You could almost touch him and sense his warmth but something was off. In your dream, he was younger, careless, carefree…and you never felt the metal of his arm.
You had made a promise of never falling asleep when he was around because even if it felt so damn right, you never wanted to make him uncomfortable. However, seeing him sleeping so peacefully took some of the guilt off of your shoulders.
He was serene, almost resembling the disoriented dream of yours. Softer, mellow, and not tormented by those demons that hunted him each waking moment. You tried your best not to touch him and slipped under the bedding, still very much able to understand just how much heat he was radiating, making you fall asleep again. Easily.
There was half a carton of milk leftover from breakfast on the table. You reached out and took it, drinking it straight from the carton. He scowled at you and took a glass from one of his cupboards. His hand reached out, but stopped. You waited for the touch to burn you. It didn’t.
“Darlin’, we do have glasses” he mocked you but his hand cupped your face, lips inches apart, when he moved away with a wicked smile.
“Fucking sadist” you whispered and tugged him closer for a quick kiss. He smiled, lethally blinding. The only thing that mattered was him; the kitchen disappeared from view and you shut your eyes closed, getting lost in the moment.
You never talked about your dream to anyone. Even Wanda was forbidden from snooping around there. At least you hoped she didn’t. They were all the more vivid and you thought that you were either falling even harder or you were wishing for something that could never happen in your line of work. You had stopped reporting to Fury – and he knew. You had practically been adopted as the rookie who would help around and on missions but your skills were more intellectual than physical. Now, you could kill, you could fight, maybe not as well as Natasha or Steve but you preferred not to.
Bucky preferred you not to be anywhere near but it wasn’t his choice, after all. He had grown closer, almost attached to your hip but not exactly. There was something missing, something that didn’t exactly fit but you shook it off, as you had done with Steve, and moved on.
Today was one of those effortless days; no worries whatsoever. Tony was insisting on preparing brunch, but him being … him, you all ended up eating a makeshift breakfast. You had been seated on a high stool as you spotted the half-empty carton of juice on the table. You reached out and took it, drinking it straight out of the carton. And then everything was in slow motion, everything was familiar. He rolled his eyes and scowled you, as he took a glass from one of the cupboards. He poured the leftover juice into it and with a mocking smile, handed it to you. But you were too frozen to do anything but look at him, eyes wide open and mind shut.
“What? We do have glasses here” he told you in a funny way as if he had no idea what just happened. The man in front of you was the same fucking person in the same fucking context. But how could that be? Were you predicting the future? Or… had you lived that before?
You took too much time to answer, or even react in a way that they grew worried. But you didn’t know how to reassure them that you were okay because you weren’t. Your mind was playing tricks, one moment you were standing in the tower’s kitchen and the next you were on a stool in a vintage kitchen, small and cozy, with just one man. And then back to now. You tried to hide your face in the obnoxiously big cup of tea you had in front of you, which did not go unnoticed but you just couldn’t cope.
You were wondering whether or not should you respond the way you remembered you had, in your dream, or just let it pass. After a while, you knew Wanda was going to scoop and that why you warned her, quite loudly too. Please, don’t. Don’t. You knew she heard your thought clear as day because her eyes popped and blushed slightly, leaving Pietro wondering what had happened. You let it slide for now and kept your posture while everyone else was having a rather good time.
The whole thing wasn’t dying down any time soon but you needed air to breathe and space to exist. But you also needed an exit strategy. Or rather… a line. You stood up, thanked Tony but not really, and said you were going to start working for a living, meaning you were about to play around in Tony’s lab. No one found anything suspicious. While walking behind Bucky, you slightly leaned in and whispered that line.
“Fucking sadist”. His eyes shot up and his head snapped at you. He recognized it, and you were more than assured that this had happened again. But how, you didn’t know. For now, you were content knowing that at some point in this world, at some distant reality, you had felt his lips on yours. You would come back for answers but for now, you just went out to get a proper coffee. No Avengers.
Lately, you had been feeling rather off, out of touch with reality but you didn’t mind that much. Sometimes you caught yourself daydreaming about images that had flashed before your mind when you were asleep, while others you were just thinking about him. It was just him. Every day, all day.
“Don’t make me use Wanda” Tony warned you out of the blue, startling you and making you look up, avoiding his gaze. He rolled his eyes so hard that you were afraid they were going to get stuck.
“You wouldn’t” you fired back, very much assured that he would not even think about it… but he surprised you.
“Well, it’s not like I need her powers to understand that you have been crushing on Barnes” he outed you without even worrying about people actually listening. You wanted to shush him but that would put you in a difficult position.
“Tony… please don’t” you simply asked of him. It was the first time you saw him worried and perplexed, at a loss of words. But then, corking an eyebrow, he just dropped his job and came to sit next to you. It was his lab, you couldn’t say no.
“Listen, you know that I am not particularly fond of his company – ”
“Tony, you hate the guy” you cut him off, making him arch his eyebrow again in agreement. You smiled but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.
“All I want to say is be careful” he concluded and made you realize that he did care about his team; well, not everyone, but for the most part, he did.
“Thank you, Tony, but let’s be realistic… I am never going to make a move, and I don’t think he is interested in making one either” you summed up what you had gathered. Tony seemed to disagree with your statement, shaking his head but not saying a word, which was suspicious.
“What? Do you know something?” you pushed further but he just got up and went back to his job.
“Not everything is what it seems, honey” he cynically quoted and left you with a gazillion questions, which he wasn’t going to answer. You knew that he knew something and that Steve knew too. Maybe Natasha, but you weren’t sure, Wanda probably, since she can pretty much-read minds, and therefore Vision as well. Clint had a family, Pietro had god knows how many girls, Thor was in Asgard and Bruce was falling for Natasha. Sam and Rhodey were placing bets for all of you. They all had their own problems to be invested in your non-existent love life.
All it took was a mission gone wrong and Fury was breathing down your neck each day and each night, demanding you report to him every single detail. Which you didn’t. Not everything. Why would it matter that you spent most nights sleeping next to Bucky because it had become a thing after having heard him suffering and barging in without second thought? Why would it matter that you never left that night or any night after that? Why would it matter that he had opened up about his past, slowly revealing all those details that you, somehow, already knew? Why would it matter that Steve was trying to warn his best friend that this was a bad idea and upon confronting him, he went silent and couldn’t even look you in the eye.
Why would it matter to Fury that you had been having all those dreams that seemed so real, vivid, and true to be just that? Why would it matter that you had a beautiful friendship with Wanda and Pietro? Why would it matter that Thor was hitting on you, ever so discretely, but permanent enough to make Bucky jealous? At least you thought he was… or rather, hoped. You really didn’t understand what difference it would make… Maybe if you had been completely honest with Fury, he would never have given you the solo mission. Perhaps, it would have been for the best. Probably not.
Tony was watching you like a hawk, whenever Bucky was in the same room but even he had to admit that whenever you were around he was more of a puppy than an attack dog, and he kind of appreciated that. Deep down, he knew that you and Steve were right about him but his pride and grief didn’t let him say it in so many words. He showed it by calling him by his name, joking with him, and even sitting next to him. Bucky was grateful for every single chance he was given, and every single day he tried his best.
All those little things, you thought of as personal and never disclosed them with Fury. Maybe too personal. They had become your family and you couldn’t just turn on them. As you watched them interact with each other you just saw a big, kind of dysfunctional but very loving family.
“So that’s your thing… you observe” he startled you and you quickly turned around to see a smug-looking face.
“It’s the best tactic” you carefully answered while searching for any kind of sign in his eyes. But he gave you very little. You shouldn’t have hoped for anything more but you were crushing indeed. He kept staring at you, checking you out from head to toe. You could tell that he … at least, appreciated your look. You were wearing a dark red dress with an elegant halter neckline, form-fitting bodice, empire waist, lace-up elastic back, and knee-length skirt. It had a black ribbon sash that garnished your empire waistline providing the perfect finishing touch. A winged eyeliner and bold, dark red lips were all you needed, makeup-wise.
You knew that he was still looking at you when you decided to grab your drink and walk over to the others, leaving him to admire your naked back as you swayed your hips a bit more. It didn’t take him long to join you.
The night went on pretty smoothly. Tony was a rather drunk jerk, Pepper was embraced and slightly angry at him but nothing new there. Wanda and Vision were in a world of their own and no one could blame them; Thor was drinking with Steve, while Clint and Pietro were betting who would pass out first. Rhodey and Sam were comparing their flying style. Bruce and Natasha were flirting shamelessly and you were enjoying your beer while listening to a very talkative Bucky. He hadn’t shut up ever since Steve had brought up old Brooklyn. And all the girls Bucky was seeing… There was cockiness in his voice and pride in his attitude, two things not so usual.
Some people would call that a small party, a gathering, but to you, that was just another Friday night. Everything was perfect until F.R.I.D.A.Y announced one Nick Fury and one Maria Hills. Suddenly, everyone stopped talking and you simply swallowed hard. You felt it in the pit of your stomach. He was there for you. And it was never that simple with Fury.
“You’re having a party and didn’t invite me?” he mocked you, but Tony was faster.
“Sorry, we’re closed. Invitations only” he said very seriously. He was still not big on trusting him and honestly, he was right. You stood up and tried your best to hide behind Bucky’s broad silhouette. He sensed it and was confused but not a moment later, he froze. There was a moment of realization that you would understand later on. He tried to shield you from Fury’s view, while Steve… did the same, as he walked in front of you.
“It won’t take long. I just need to borrow her” he pointed directly at you and a rush of cold air was pushed down your lungs. No, every part of your conscience and subconscious was trying to warn you; it was as if your body was scarred to move. You shook it off and hesitantly walked towards him.
“It’s only gonna take a minute. I’ll be right back” you assured them but the look on Bucky’s face was one of dread. He reached out and grabbed your wrist. Fury rolled his eyes.
“I’ll be in the other room” he informed you but you really didn’t care about him. Your hand was on fire by his touch.
You looked worried as well but you couldn’t understand why. Bucky seemed to know more than he let on but now was not the time. He simply brought you closer to him with desperation. You didn’t know how to react. He had never been that touchy or that straightforward with you.
“Remember this, please” he begged you, and as you were going to ask what, why and other possible questions, he cupped your face and planted a pained kiss on your lips. Your breath was caught on the back of your neck, your mind shut down and your eyes had never closed that fast before. You felt the agony, the emotions flowing towards you, the pain-stained past… you felt him.
He let go, unwillingly. He looked pale as if he had seen a ghost; or maybe you were one. His eyes never left yours and when his hand fell through thin air, his breath hitched, he immediately tried to grab you but Steve called him, ever so softly, that you never heard it clearly. But alas, it had to happen.
Dumbfounded, you walked into the room with Fury, not being able to process anything, still feeling him close but too far away.
“You talk to no one, you change nothing, you come back to your boyfriend and you still say nothing, got it?” he deadpanned but you were too lost to be able to understand any of it.
“What do I do?” you asked purely out of habit. He went into details, nothing too descriptive. You had to use one of the things he gave you to be transported, whatever that meant, in and out of where you were going. You had to find a file with the number 32557038 in a military base and return home. Under different circumstances, you would have declined but you were not in the right mind and all you wanted to do was go back to Bucky and have a do-over. But, alas.
“You’re going now”.
“Press this when you’re ready and press it again when you’re done”. He didn’t give you much of a choice, as he pressed it for you, and you spun around.
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Chapter 48 // SHADOW BOXING
Dropping Sunday, June 20 @ 12:00am
Are you caught up?
┍━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━┑
“You shot me!”
“I didn’t mean to!”
“You shot me three times!”
“You two look exactly the same!”
┕━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━┙
» Chapter 47 // Trigger Finger «
| Battle Scarred : Aftermath | » Darke15
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honestly the thought of a unhinged, feral, slightly-might-not-even-be-mentally stable Winter Soldier pinning me down and just ripping my cute flimsy little panties off in a urgent need of primal instinct to force me to just take it or just a silently stalking Winter Soldier sneaking inside my bedroom window and manhandling my body against his as he fucks me full of his cock and seed in my unknowing body is just a godsend pls—
the thought of just Bucky or him as the Winter Soldier splitting me open on his massive cock, ruining me for everyone else makes me wanna scream (without the ‘s’) isuheuehebhdi yes sir
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His Rewards System: Chapter One - Soldat Bucky x Reader
Summary: Hydra knew they couldn’t keep using the chair on their Soldat forever. A day would come when new methods of controlling the Asset need be employed.
Fresh minds were wanted, their new ideas required for the continued growth and prosperity of Hydra. Dr. Howle Smith was amongst these ranks of young scientists, and he was equipped with the perfect solution to the problem of the Soldat’s control.
A lovely young woman snatched up from the front gates of a local high school and deposited straight to the bed in the Assets cell.
In Smith’s eyes and expertise there was no better tool of subjugation that could be used against the soldier.
Sexual fulfilment and pheromones are nature's oldest reward system, after all.
Word count 1.6K
Trigger warnings: young reader (reader is of age but still in high school), kidnaping, illusion to psychological manipulation, illusion to rape (but there is none in this story), Bucky being treated poorly by his handler, reader is spoken of in deeply sexist terms, and illusion to Hydra planning to use reader for breeding.
Hydra realized they couldn’t keep using the chair on him in the wake of a wipe that left their Asset in a state of complete catatonic shock, the man so badly damaged that he was rushed to medics.
He had stayed that way for a month even with intensive care, fed through a tube in his stomach and laid out over a downy hospital bed, tended to around the clock.
Dr Smith knew it wouldn’t last. He knew that the Nazi tech would reach its end of usefulness eventually- lose its edge and become redundant.
With continued use of the chair clearly out of the question, Smith’s colleague’s had been panicked to the point of grife, raking hands through already thinning hair as they rooted through Hydra’s thousands of files in pursuit of a solution, a new way to control the Soldat.
Dr Smith knew the chair wouldn’t last- that’s why he’d taken you.
In truth any female would have done the trick, though Smith liked to premeditated all of his decisions, and you were no exception to that.
Little was known about James ‘Bucky’ Barnes before he became Hydra’s Soldat, the people who’d first taken him didn’t care for anything of his past- only for his usefulness in their future, it was a reckless decision that Dr Smith deeply resented them for.
The doctors first step was making the realisation that James Barnes and Hydra’s Soldat were not one in the same, as this was the case, Smith approached his project not as a matchmaker attempting to appease his client by presenting him a woman with depths of personality and many shared interests, but rather, as a seasoned breeder trying to find the right bitch for his stud.
Soldat needed to be thought of by Smith as a caveman, this was not a hard task to accomplish as, in the good doctor’s opinion, the broad shouldered soldier had always looked like one with his sloping brow and square jaw. Cavemen did not care for the thoughts of their women- they cared for her general appearance of health, intelligence, and most of all, fertility.
To find a woman of similar age to Soldat at the time of his capture who was in perfect health and free of any weathering brought upon her body by the trials of life was too challenging a prospect for Dr Smith to entertain.
At thirty all the vibrant signals of health had long been rubbed away, leaving only an animal who was to live out the rest of her days in relative contentment as she limped closer and closer to death.
No, Smith needed a young, strong thing who looked as healthy on her outside as she was on the inside, a woman- no a girl preferably no older than twenty years.
Wasn’t it so eeri and convenient that the mad scientist taught biology at a nearby highschool.
Hydra paid him, and it paid well- but Smith needed an alibi and steady income from a body outside of the organization, one that was legal and recognised on paper when he paid his taxes. Hydra was his passion, his pride, but the dreary public school near to his home was Dr Smith’s true occupation and day to day existence.
Looking back he thought it was funny how you had popped into his head first- the clever girl in his class with an upbeat attitude and enthusiasm for everything, your love of exercise shaping your body perfectly- all of it combined made you an easy study whose understanding was far beyond her peers as a result.
He liked you, a bright student raised with good manners who nurtured a true, deep appreciation for all her teachers- even the few you did not tend to flourish under. Dr Smith liked you, that is why his heart had clenched a little when the Soldat stopped at your picture.
Mrs Harper, the principal of the school at which you attended and Smith worked, was completely delighted when the man in question offered to have all of his class's yearbook photos blown up, framed, and handed out to his students as gifts.
He of course purchased extra copies of the photographs of every girl in his class for his other use.
The Soldat was not expecting visitors on his sickbed, a fact made obvious from the silent snarl that formed on his lips when he saw Smith enter his far secluded room in the medical wing, white lab coat bright and unsettling under sterile lights as he produced a yellow folder from beneath his arm.
Storming grey eyes followed him through the room making Smith’s hair raise on end as the primal sensation of being hunted raked shivers up and down his spine. The Soldat was not restrained, the only thing between the doctor and hundreds of pounds of brute strength and vile temper was a grey plastic meal tray that hovered over the Asset’s lap.
The tremor in Smith’s hand was understandable as he placed the folder down on the tray in front of the assassin, the burning grey gaze never straying from him as he moved slowly so as not to evoke any sudden retaliations.
The warrior’s Handler, a grim looking grey haired man who sat heavily in a chair that was angled to watch the door, whistled sharply to gain the doctor’s attention, the shrill sound of it making Smith jump a foot backward.
Chuckling low in his throat at the display of nerves, the Handler sat forward, bracing forearms on his thighs as he joined Soldat in looking the biologist over.
“You got something to say to him, you gotta say it to me first - he won’t listen to you. Higherups send you down to give him that?” he jutted his chin at the folder.
Clearing his throat in what he hoped was an astute cough, Smith nodded.
“You are correct, though this assignment is not one of convention to him. Inform the Soldat he is to look carefully at each photo in this portfolio then select the one he finds the most interest in and set it aside.”
Standing with a leisurely stretch, the Handler walked slowly to the bedside, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.
“What the photos of?”
The tilt of the Handler's head was a gesture of confusion.
“What use is it to Hydra for him to look at photographs of women?”
Pressing his lips to a tight line, the doctor shifted on his feet, his patience for the Handler suddenly worn through.
“It is not of any concern to you. Now, please convey his assignment to the soldier.”
The grey haired Handler looked equally impatient with Smith as he turned attention toward the Soldat then spoke at him in gruff russian.
Even as the soldier was given his instructions, murky blue eyes never broke away from the doctor’s profile. They continued to eat up the sight of him, searing the image to his memory for future uses the man was nervous to think of.
When the Handler had finished speaking he lumbered back to his seat in the corner of the room, fingers hooked through his belt as he yawned and gestured to the door,
“Might wanna get out and get onto your other experiments, kid. He was slow as shit before he got his brains fried last month. Probably gonna take him an hour to look through those.”
Smith raised a thin straw coloured eyebrow high at the comment, looking from Handler to Soldat, seeing that the latter man proved his jailer incorrect as he had already sorted through half the pile.
Folding pale hands at his front, the doctor leveled the Handler with a long look.
“I will wait.”
It took the Soldat only a minute to look through the folio, his face giving nothing away as he methodically picked each photograph up, regarded it carefully, then placed it back in the pile.
Dr Smith felt himself begin to sweat as the Asset showed no interest in any of the girls, pile of profiles wearing thinner and thinner as the soldier’s silent rejections continued on in an uninterrupted stream.
There were only three photographs left when the Soldat stopped his sorting.
Smith held his breath as he watched dull eyes clinically analyzing the image in his hand, gaze carefully traveling from one point of the photo to the next.
Soldat held the paper aside as he took disinterested glances at the last two girls, placing both profiles into the reject pile and then wordlessly handing the chosen photo for Smith to take.
Your grinning face looked up to him on the glossy page, teeth white and complexion clear, a girl completely unaware of the horrors about to befall her.
What a pity, he had liked you so much as a student.
A/N: Tell me if you want to be added to the tag list for this story, feedback is appreciated.
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girl. you did not need to kill mal😐 IM SO FUCKING MAD WHY COULDNT WE HAVE A HAPPY ENDING😫😫
Aaaaaaaah. I love him. No seriously. I love him so much. But his story had ended. As sad as it was. His arc was done. His whole life was driven by one goal; taking the orphanage down. So yeah. Sorrrrry. But I had to.
Anyone want to read a eulogy for Mal that reader wrote?
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This me rn
Honestly? Same. My babies. My poor poor babies.
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As Above, So Below
Chapter 16 - Brother
Arriving at the shield office in this level of commotion is unusual... then you see a VERY familiar face
Word Count: 975
Read Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15
You arrived into the office bright and early, as usual. Your desk was in Fury’s office but today he was away on a mission to speak with General Ross after the Hulk decimated Harlem a couple of days ago. Something had gone wrong in some experiments that Fury refused to tell you about and SHIELD had been monitoring the situation until Harlem became cage-fight central. A few short words on the matter and Fury was gone, thankfully you were used to it. And it meant you could use his coffee machine.
As you sat typing at your computer, copying up some old notes the Director needed, you could hear shouting and running. The last time you’d heard shouting and running around this place it didn’t end well, so you dipped your head out the door. You grabbed a passing guy that you knew worked a few offices down “What the hell is going on?”
“Some guy just tried to steal the asset they found down in New Mexico, you know the one that caused all those atmospheric disturbances” he laughed. “They’re saying he’s some kind of alien!”
“Yeah! They’re expanding a containment facility down there.”
You followed him down the corridor to the big screen in the main hall where SHEILD wide messages were played. You could hear whispering.
“You really think he’s an alien or just some overly jacked cokehead?”
“They say he beat the living shit out of the all the agents at the facility so I don’t know.”
Then you saw it. Blazoned on the big screen at the front “Thor?” you whispered.
In front of you was a giant picture of a muddy, soaking wet and defeated Thor. What the hell was he doing down here?
“What happened?” you asked the person standing next to you, she just shrugged. Then you spotted Coulson in the background of the photo; Thor was going to be interrogated. A rush of adrenaline pulsed through you. You turned and half ran back to Fury’s office, you called Coulson directly.
“Director, lovely of you to call” Coulson’s strange melodic tone greeted you.
“What’s happened down there Coulson?”
“Ah, it’s you” his tone suddenly dropped down to suspicious. “Getting too involved again are we?” he quipped. You rolled your eyes. “What are you doing with that… guy down in New Mexico?”
Coulson sighed dramatically “We think he’s some kind of special ops, why he would be after this hammer thing is beyond me. We’re keeping him here for observation.”
“You can’t do that” you said suddenly, it came out a little louder than you intended and you cringed. “You can’t just hold him there, can you?” you corrected.
“Of course we can, he broke into our facility and somehow took down every guy in here like they were basic mall cops. I intend to find out how and why.”
“I’ll be on the next flight” you said, going to hang up the receiver and you heard his voice raise “No, you won’t. I don’t need you and you have no clearance.”
“Then GIVE me clearance!” you shouted.
“I can't, I’m afraid, enjoy your filing” and the line clicked dead. You grunted in frustration, slamming the receiver down. You needed to get your brother back before he said anything stupid, if he so much as hints he’s not from this world god knows what SHIELD will do. They’ll lock him up in a different kind of facility and pump him full of drugs, or something worse. Fury knew enough but if your stubborn brother in law opened his mouth SHIELD would know far too much of Asgard than you’d ever intended. You rubbed your temples, why was he even here? The thought dawned on you, what if he was here for you? To bring you home after all this time? What if something had happened to Loki?
Your head was spinning trying to figure out how you could get him out. Coulson was being pretty spot on about this; did that mean he was suspicious already?
You paced Fury’s office incessantly; no one knew about your energy, the Director had made it very clear that he would keep it to himself on the condition that you never used those powers again on Earth. He flat out threatened you with imprisonment if you did. Despite the fact that you could just storm the place and take your brother back home to Asgard, Coulson would have your ass if you ever came back to Earth. Not that you were sure you ever could if you left again.
Taking a steadying breath you grabbed your leather jacket from the coat stand in the corner. You knew what you had to do.
You drove your car out of Manhattan, breaking probably every speed limit you hit along the way. You made your way through Brooklyn to Floyd Bennet Field. You needed somewhere out of the way; it was late in the evening so it was relatively quiet where you pulled up. You waited until a few people had left before you got out of the car. Cold air whipped around you, blowing your hair in front of your face. You stood in a good open spot and looked up into the sky “Heimdall” you shouted into nothing. Silence followed.
“Heimdall, I know you can hear me!” you shouted again, carrying your voice over the wind “It’s time for me to come home, something’s happened hasn’t it?”
Silence followed again. You sighed and turned to walk back towards your car, and then a faint sizzle could be heard before the bolt hit the ground in front of you. Loud crackling and whooshing of air consumed you. You smiled upwards and winked. Stepping tentatively into the beam of light you felt yourself being pulled swiftly up.
It was time to go home.
Tag list: @saynotoshityouhate @desparadowrites@thegreattodd
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Steve to Bucky:
✨I’m with you to the end of the line✨
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Okay I hope you guys like this, I’m not finished with the new episode of Mind Control so I whipped up this little smut head cannon of Bucky and My o/c I think it’s funny how I’ve been reading Dan fiction on tumblr since 2016 and I still can’t figure out how to properly type a fan fiction formatting here. I’m sorry you have to look at this ugly text lol I promise I’ll figure it out. This o/c does belong to me, and this has nothing to do with the on going story I just wanted a steamy little scene between them that I may not get to right away in the story. This actually isn’t like smut it’s just a little spicy side piece/situation I had in the drafts on my phone so yea lol hope you enjoy!!! Pls follow me
Yasmeena may come off as a resilience, haughty black woman. However, Bucky knew better, he knew the cotton soft layer that was buried beneath the surface. He knew so well because he was the same at one point, Bucky has learned to soften a bit. He reminds himself everyday to thank the people of Wakanda for taking him in, and repairing him when no one else would. Yasmeena was part of that team, she wouldn’t visit him often, but when she did, she’d use her powers to pull repressed memories out of his brain.
At times like that it got dark, sometimes remembering the faces, and moments of the people he murdered felt like the equivalent to being stabbed…painful. His mind wonders off to their first encounter, Bucky chuckled at how much he thought he hated Yasmeena.
Bucky dropped to his knees before the beautiful, brown skinned woman in front of him . His head felt like it was on fire, even his tears stung in his eyes.
“Why are you doing this to me?” Bucky questioned out of breath.
He thought Steve left him here to get better, but instead he felt like he was going through HYDRA’s torture all over agin. She didn’t answer, this pained Yasmeena too, but it is what must be done. She couldn’t fail again, not this time.
“Why damn it, answer me!” Bucky screamed back, his teeth clinched tight. He hated her so much, he hated her almost as much as he hated HYDRA.
She took in a deep breath, purple like flames grew from her hands, Yasmeena floated over to the broken soldier. Elegantly landing on her feet, she closed the small gap between them. She reached a hand down to his bowed head, looked him in his blue eyes.
“You must feel the pain first, in order to heal, and you are not going through this pain alone, what you feel I feel too.”
Bucky couldn’t look away when she began to pull her pants down. Even though they were kind of in the middle of a crisis situation, neither one of them can deny the tension between them. She was so beautiful, her soul was beautiful, her hair, the way she cared for it. Each strand beautiful curled by her own delegate fingers, her skin always seemed to glow no matter the time of day. Bucky was completely amazed by Yasmeena, his eyes dropped the the bleeding gash that was going up her thigh.
He frowned deeply, just thinking about how they possibly ruined her beautiful skin, how they hurt her, and he wasn’t there to help again.
“Don’t mind the stretch marks, I’ve gotten fat on vacation last year.” Yasmeena joked to ease Bucky’s intense stance, she knew it wasn’t directed towards her. She just didn’t like it when he got all upset and angry, especially with things that wasn’t his fault.
She grabbed his vibranium made fist, and brought it to her lips. In that instant they both forgot where they were or how the hell they got there. Bucky’s body immediately stiffened, afraid that if he moved this moment will disintegrate. His eyes soften at the site of this Goddess, lips caressing him…so much love.
Usually Yasmeena could switch personalities with no problem, it was typically so she could close to her enemy. With Bucky it was never an act, she cannot recall at which point she’d fallen in love with him. All she knew was that she was, and it would be so easy for her to slip into his mind to find out if he felt the same. She promised Bucky, that his privacy would never be breeches again with her. That his mind is his is own, and she swore her powers would only be used against him in a death or death situation.
“Can you feel this?” Her voice a whisper, almost inaudible, but she knew the super soldier could hear her. Holding onto him with one hand, taking her free, and gently ran her hand down his arm.
“Yes.” Bucky exhaled, eyes closed.
There are one percent moments when he feels totally relaxed, he had a many days like that in Wakanda. The other times was with Yasmeena, she was never aggressive towards him. She didn’t feel threatened by him, or his past
“Wow, they really did an amazing job…I’m happy for you Buck, you’re finally free.” Yasmeena said in a soft tone, they did not notice how close the had gotten. Only inches between each other, his right arm comes to wrap it around her curvy waist.
This was the first time they have touched each other so intimately since Wakanda. Yasmeena dropped Bucky’s hand to place both her arms around his neck, her fingers going up the back of his neck into his hair. Her long nails softly scrape against his scalp before she tugs on his brunette locs tightly yanking his head back a little.
Buck let’s put a soft moan, as his left metal arm squeezes her side for support. Yasmeena is the only person he’d let take control of him, that’s how much he trust her. He know that if she decides to rip him apart, she would put him back together again properly.
His hands traveled down her back, grabbing squeezing a ass cheek in each hand. Yasmeena moaned, tilting her head back, “kiss me please.” It was unusual for her to beg for anything from anyone.
Her total trust in Bucky allowed her to be as soft and submissive as she wanted to be.
Bucky put is whole face between her neck,
and shoulders inhaling her scent in so deep, his lungs were starting to ache from being filled to capacity. He pressed his rough lips softly against her neck, his kiss was hot against her brown sugar skin. As he was going in for a second one, he breath was being caught in her throat, and his sight was fading.
“You have to stop being so cruel Meena.” Bucky nearly whined when he realized, it was all just a hallucination. She was so good at making it feel real, maybe it was because they both actually had feelings for each other. Whatever it was he knew one thing for sure, He would never feel this way about anyone every again.
“You’re not fat, you say that shit agin we’re gonna have problems.” Bucky said looking Yasmeena deep in her eyes as concentrated on cleaning the wound.
“Fine.” She replied without putting up a fight
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader
Words: 5 k
Rating: 18+ only (here children have a fruit snack *yeet*)
Summary: It's been a while (aka a few days) and you're both getting antsy. So it becomes a competition, of course.
Warnings: various forms of dirtiness, light choking (because he has a metal arm why not), and... self-denial? Idek if that's a thing but it is now.
A/N: This is technically a continuation of "Doll" but you don't really need to read it first (that's how little plot there is in this). Reader has invisibility powers.
Is this what withdrawal is? Barnes usually can't keep his hands off you but it's been six days since he touched you in any meaningful way and it's driving you mad.
It's not because you and Barnes haven't fucked since that night. It's because you have. The more nights he spends in your bed and the more nights you spend in his, the harder it gets to spend them alone.
And the withdrawal is not for lack of trying. He corners you in the hallway and slides a hand up your thigh only to have some member of IT walk by and ruin the moment. Or he follows you to the showers after your workout just to find it already occupied and giving neither of you privacy. And every night there's been something--Stark needing your help, Parker with a million questions, an errand for your mom--and every night you go to bed exhausted but so very unsatisfied. It's almost as if at the very moment you fall into an easy rhythm with someone the universe decides it's too much and you need to pay for the pleasure she's given you.
Sparring releases about half the tension that sparks between you two like an electrical cloud. It threatens to shatter the windows with shockwaves if it isn't tended to immediately. But the sparring is only just barely enough to tide you over until the next day.
Now that he knows, has confirmation of the fact, that you think about the way he fucks you into the mattress every time he pins you to the mat, Barnes has stopped letting you win. You barely get the opportunity to stand before he slams you to the ground again in some position or another, either with your hands pinned overhead or your face shoved into the ground.
"Again," he says, "again," disguising his intentions with thinly veiled excuses that you need to level up your training.
Eventually, it makes you tired. Not muscle tired, that would come regardless, but brain tired, from the thoughts of him constantly battering to the forefront of your mind with no outlet for release. When you're apart you wonder when you'll see him next and when you're near you wonder when you'll get to fuck him again. You're not exactly sure how it got to this point but his hunger is as insatiable as yours without that release.
Which is why it shouldn't surprise you when he finally breaks. Is it smackdown number six? Or is it seven, when he lands a blow to your stomach, knocks you forward off your feet, and rolls you onto your back to immobilize you? You groan in pain and frustration, your heavy breath puffing across Barnes' face.
He closes his eyes tight like he's the one in pain. "You have to stop making those sounds, doll. Driving me mad with that pretty mouth of yours."
"You're the one knocking me down, Barnes. I've got so many bruises I can't even count them anymore."
"I thought you liked getting a little rough."
You flush pink, dazed and speechless as his eyes open again and bear down into yours with a familiar intensity. You wiggle your hands to test the strength with which he's holding your wrists but they don't budge, only succeeding at making you squirm like a dying fish.
"This is crazy."
"Yeah, it is," he says, and then his gaze is flickering to your lips and it gives you just enough warning to suck in an anticipatory breath before Barnes is crashing his lips to yours and unleashing the beast of temptation. You respond, just as greedy, with a bite to his lower lip that pulls a growl from his hungry mouth.
He wastes no more time in holding you down; instead, he lets go of your hands to push roughly at your sports bra, lips still locked to yours. Barnes doesn't even remove the thing, just shoves it far enough up to reveal your chest and trap your arms overhead with the unyielding material. His hands are everywhere at once, spreading across your stomach, cupping the soft tissue of your breast, twisting one nipple and then the other. He leaves your lips behind to latch on, nibbling and sucking at the tender buds of flesh to make you squirm even more.
A choked cry leaves your lips. If anyone were to walk in right now...
And then a hand is down the front of your spandex where you know you aren't wearing underwear, because who wears underwear under spandex, and his fingers are gliding through your folds. Barnes sucks in a ragged breath at finding you so wet and warm from the exercise and he starts finger fucking you right there, in the middle of the training room, like he's willing to risk getting caught if it means he can make you orgasm.
This time it's quick and rushed but no less glorious, the way he expertly circles your clit with a finger and attends to the sensitive peaks of your chest with his tongue. He matches every one of your moans with one of his own, so lost in the thrill of finally touching you again that he doesn't care if you're being loud. Swiftly and suddenly you're coming hard around his fingers, gasping his name, eyes rolled to the back of your head. You're gorgeous, he thinks.
Barnes pulls his hand away once you've stopped bucking beneath him and looks into your eyes. He shoves his fingers in his mouth and sucks at the slick remnants of you, groaning with delight like your taste is enough to satisfy his insatiable hunger, and then kisses you to share in the ecstasy.
And then he stands, helping you to your feet and readjusting your clothes.
"I'll see you later," he says and leaves you standing alone on the sparring mat.
"You don't--that's...what?" You're left speechless and dazed for the second time today and it's only eight in the morning. What the fuck just happened?
You find Barnes at the breakfast counter, swallowing down what looks like half a dozen eggs and four pieces of toast before heading out into the field to do... well actually you don't know what he does between breakfast and lunch. Something classified.
He doesn't notice you until you reach out, grab his arm, and pull out a sharpie. Before he can demand to know what you're doing, you've drawn something, dropped his arm (the real one, of course), and left the way you came.
He studies your marking. It's nothing more than a single tally, small and black, on his inner forearm.
When Barnes gets back you're waiting. Not that he can see you. But he can see the indent of you on his bed where you must be laying.
"Not doing such a good job at hiding. We'll have to work on that one," he says while he unloads a surprising number of guns from an even more surprising number of places all over his body. And a knife.
"Not trying to hide," you say.
"Oh? Did Stark make you a better suit?"
"Not wearing a suit."
That gets him. Barnes turns with a sly smile on his face, momentarily frozen as you shift back into the visible spectrum. And then he's raking his eyes over the deliciousness of you, those curves a full course meal, and his stomach starved for a week straight. His cock twitches at the reminder that despite giving you an earth-shattering orgasm at eight o'clock this morning, he did nothing about his own needs.
You beckon him onto the bed with one finger.
"I have fifteen minutes until Parker needs my help."
Barnes doesn't care. He'll take fifteen minutes. Damn, he'll take two if it means touching you until you scream his name. It's more than he's had all week. He's devouring your lips in seconds, your hips melting to his touch as you roll over to straddle him, knees gripping his waist seeking out any kind of pressure you can find. You're conveniently naked and he's far too dressed but you don't need anything but his shirt off and his pants at his knees to make this worth your while.
You're sinking down around him before he can even ask to go down on you, your tight pussy fluttering around the rock-hard length of his cock. From this angle, you can feel his tip push against the sensitive tissue of your cervix, and it forces a curse from your mouth. You don't move but Barnes does, using his impossible strength to lift you by your hips and slam into you, leaving more bruises on your hips that you gladly add to your collection.
You rock when he rocks, meeting each of his grinding thrusts with a cry, your hands on his chest to give you support. He can feel you tighten around him, your walls contracting with each slam of his hips to yours, so he rests one hand flat on your pelvis, grounding you and rubbing at your clit with his thumb. The other presses to the small of your back, stabilizing you to hit that same spot you like so much over and over again.
"Come for me baby," he groans, the words smooth in the languid air of this shared moment.
"No," you manage to say, and it's like a punch to the chest. No? Why the fuck not? And suddenly he feels your resistance, you holding out against rapture, against the inevitable. "You first."
Your eagerness abruptly takes on a competitive tone and he can't know for sure what your intentions are but Barnes can picture them. This is no longer a shared moment but a one-on-one match that ends in sudden death.
"Not until you do."
You can't hold out. Not when he touches you like that. When you orgasm all over his cock his movements stutter and he joins you, pulling out just in time to spill his seed over the two of you. You finish it off with a desperate kiss that feels more like the start of something than the end of it.
"What the fuck was that?" he says as you pull away with a giddy smile, more confused than angry, relenting to the gentle touch of your hands smoothing across his chest after having driven into you like a railroad spike.
"A challenge," you giggle, and then he pulls you to his chest and you slump forward, entwining yourselves in one another's limbs to seek that extra bit of skin-to-skin contact that you're both fortunately so fond of. You glance over at the clock on his nightstand, only 12:23. Seven more minutes to snuggle. Seven minutes for Barnes to contemplate your sudden change in behavior and wonder if it has anything to do with his own actions this morning.
Finally, you get up to leave without having provided any reasoning. You simply peel your sweaty chest away from his. And then, strangely, the sharpie is back and you take his arm to add another little tally to the first. And then you add a single one to your own arm and suddenly he understands.
This isn't just a challenge. It's a game. He's in the lead and you're one behind, but if there's anything he can count on it's that you like a challenge and always rise to meet it.
Then there's the broom closet. Barnes wasn't aware Avengers HQ even had these. He thought it was far too high-tech for regular old cleaning supplies.
But inside, you even the score, sinking to your knees and sucking him dry before he can protest. You're sure by now he's figured out the game so you don't mask the glee on your face as he spills hot and thick down your throat. You love the weight of his balls in your palm as they twitch and contract, the way Barnes gathers your hair away from your face to watch you better and kisses you deep afterward to get a taste of himself. But you pull away quickly and slip right back out the closet door before he can get any ideas.
What are the rules? There are no rules, really. No indication of how long this could go on and no idea of what the prize might be at the end. It's competition for competition's sake, something you're both far too good at. That means it's not possible to cheat. No rules mean nothing's off the table.
And that's why it confuses you that Barnes lets you pull ahead in the game with not one, but two, handjobs, book-ending dinner with the Stark-Parker joint family dinner in Peter's apartment. Somehow, no one's noticed the absurd amount of time you and Bucky spend together, if they had Aunt May would have said something at the table, let alone your little charade of sneaking off to the bathroom together while the others do the dishes.
So what's his ploy? It worries you. Sure, Bucky's supersoldierness gives him stamina, but it also reduces his refractory period to nothing. He'd tried to had that fact for a bit, worried it might scare you or pressure you but it turns out it's just another one of the reasons this is so fun.
So again, you ask yourself, what's his ploy?
"Give me a hand, kid, will you?" Stark requests that evening. You're more than slightly annoyed at having to delay, or possibly fully cancel, the much more exciting events you had planned after dinner, though you're also indebted to Stark at this point.
"Why can't Parker?"
"He's got school in the morning."
Parker's the real kid. School. Seriously? But Stark has started treating you more like a daughter than anything else. Morgan takes up most of his attention but he makes an effort to check in on you, despite your disappearing acts.
Tonight, he wants to work on his car. Or one of his many cars. The man has access to the most high-tech, brand-new robotic engineering machinery in the world and he still decides to do this by hand. You'll never understand.
"Wrench," he says, and you pass it to him dutifully before he disappears back under the car.
"Look, Agent Hill Junior," you know you're going to get a lecture whenever he starts his talks this way, "I want you to know that if you need anything I'm here for you."
You don't respond, too confused by the sudden expression of concern for you. Stark is the kind of man who makes his intentions obvious, not through words, but actions. It's strange for him to speak to you directly.
"You can tell me if working with Barnes is too much. We can always take your training down a notch. You just need to tell me if you're getting hurt."
You just barely manage to suppress a laugh. So that's what this is about? A one-on-one chat about the collection of bruises you've acquired in the past month? Sure, some of them are from "training" as Stark calls it. But most of them...are not. You can only imagine how much Stark would flip if he knew the extent of your private activities.
"I'm fine, really," you say. "The training is good. I need to get good at hand-to-hand before I can move on to other things."
That seems to appease Stark enough for now. Surprisingly, he lets you go, although it's already nearly midnight by the time you leave the workroom. And you still want to shower, so you debate your options about doing it now or in the morning.
But the decision is made for you. Suddenly, a hand is grabbing your wrist, hauling you along the hallway, and into the elevator that leads out of Stark's workshop. The doors slide open with a ding and immediately you're shoved inside, falling back against the mirrored wall as Barnes joins you. He punches the door closed button aggressively.
When he gives you that look, hungry and insatiable, your hands grab the handrail behind you with more force than necessary to steady the fluttering arousal that spreads through your body.
"What took you so long?" he growls, caging you against the back wall with his metal hand on your chin. The pressure is just light enough to let you speak.
"You're two points down, James. I'm surprised you have anything left in you. Are you sure you aren't ready to give up yet?"
He chuckles at your response, though he isn't amused by your joke. He's amused that you're talking back to him, and he likes it because it means he can punish you for it.
"You know well enough I can fuck you all night," he says lowly in your ear. "But what about you? How many times can I make you come before you beg me to stop? I like a challenge, doll, and you've set one up nicely."
A warmth spreads through your core at the realization that this is why he let you take the lead. He wants to follow one orgasm with another and another and another.
He must know the effect he's having on you because Barnes' face breaks into a sly, lopsided grin that tells you everything you need to know about what he's up to. He's claimed you, claimed your bed, claimed your evening, claimed your thoughts. Now he's even claiming victory. Premature victory.
As the elevator shifts into motion, rising toward the residential floors, Barnes lurches against you, a little rougher in his movements than necessary. He waits, silently, as you breathe in the heat of each other's arousal.
"You're talking some mad talk for a man in second place," you manage to say, your voice coming out much softer than you intended. He's pinned up against you with an unreadable face, the kind he's probably practiced a million times so as not to give away his thoughts to the enemy. Yet, you can't think about anything but the hard length pressed to your thigh, so you release one of your hands from its iron grip on the handrail and reach out to touch it. His cock twitches beneath your palm and the facade falters. Barnes steadies his breath with his eyes closed.
"Not for much longer. I hope you've got that goddamn sharpie because we're making plenty of marks tonight."
The elevator doors open and you're very glad no one's around to see Barnes lift you roughly over one shoulder and carry you straight to his room, not stopping to put you down until the door is closed and you're against it. He must really love pinning you to various surfaces, one knee between your thighs to hold your legs apart.
Immediately, his lips are on yours and he's kissing you in the way that swallows your breath until he's the only air that matters. And then he's dragging his mouth over every inch of exposed skin he can find, pulling off your shirt to give him more space to work with as you gulp down air to stay alive.
The question becomes not where he kisses you but where he does not.
If you're being honest with yourself, half of you wants to just let this happen, let him make you come over and over again, and screw the game. Screw denying your pleasure, screw forgoing your inner instincts, let the way your body responds to his dark gaze, your chest heaving against the thin lace of your bra, convince you to abandon all hope of winning this challenge. As if sensing you edging closer toward defeat, Barnes' hands wrap tightly around your waist, arching your back, pushing your chest forward so he can graze his teeth over the tender bud of your breasts. His hands slide up your spine to release the clasp that contains them.
The other half of you wants to be a little brat.
"You're never going to win fully clothed, James," you tease. Your words are breathless and a little less than confident, and, okay, maybe you just said that to get a rise out of him, but his thigh between yours shifts almost imperceptively in reaction. Almost. That slight movement is enough to push the seam of your pants against the tender bud of your clit, even through your panties, and you realize instigating him is only going to make him push harder against your resistance.
So you push back, hooking the fingers of one hand through his belt loops and resting the other on the bulge in his pants. Barnes doesn't even respond to your touch, just grinds his thigh between yours again, his mouth still abusing the sensitive skin of your nipples. But two can play this game. You squeeze lightly as you run your hand down his length, stopping only when you reach the heaviness of his balls that twitch in your palm.
He's barely reacting, though the weight of him is hot and hard. Yet the rough fabric of his jeans between your legs alone is able to make you tremble, even as he uses his grip on your waist to control the motion. You didn't expect to be so sensitive, but it seems the harder you resist the more torture is inflicted and you can feel the flood of your arousal soaking through the layers of fabric between you. If he keeps this up, Barnes is going to take the lead.
You harden your resolve, suppress your sighs of arousal, but it's so fucking hard. His movements are hypnotic and you find yourself not even paying attention to what he's doing with his mouth. A whimper escapes your lips despite all your effort and he looks up with a smile.
"Fuck, I love that sound," he says. "Do it again."
Bad idea. Very bad idea. He does make you, your whimpers echoing out over and over again until you can't resist the heavenly pleasure of riding his thigh, and your cunt clenches around nothing and you come. It hits you so suddenly, creeps up on you so quietly in spite of your resistance, you don't even know it's happening until it's over and the heat of your orgasm has soaked into his jeans and left a dark imprint of you on his thigh.
"I don't need to be naked to make you come, doll," he chokes out, partly in awe at how beautiful your face is when it contorts into an 'o' of pleasure and partly because your grip on his length has tightened as you came and now he's the one having trouble resisting.
But you don't even get a chance to react to his words before Barnes has your pants on the floor and panties flung somewhere over his shoulder. His mouth is on your pussy, hands spreading your legs even further apart, nose pressed to the curls at the apex of your thighs. Your hands fly to his hair and somehow you can only think about how soft and fluffy it is until his teeth graze against that tight bundle of nerves and you're leaning into him just to stay on your feet.
You'd curse him to high heaven for already closing the distance if your brain could just form the words. To hell if you're going to let him make you immediately come again, though a muttered, fuck you Barnes is all you can squeak out.
"Language," he grunts from between your legs, doing his best to coax you out of your struggle and into surrender. He can feel the tension between your desire to relinquish and your desire to fight when you clamp your thighs around his ears, feel your resistance on his tongue as he savors you bit by bit, feel you torture yourself for the pleasure of the competition. "Relax, doll, let me make you feel good."
"No, not yet, no--"
But your protests die on your lips. This time, your orgasm doesn't surprise you; you feel it coming every step of the way like trying to outrun an avalanche until it swallows you whole. The back of your head thunks against the door and you begin to slide down it as your legs lose their stability with the force of the spasms wracking your body. You only realize when Barnes is standing again and leaning his forehead against yours that he's holding you up.
"I believe that makes it a tie game." And it dawns on you why he likes this challenge so much. You're already wrecked, too exhausted to make much of an effort to try to take control. And he's only just begun. He has you alone, all to himself, and he won't stop until he's done.
Already Barnes is attacking your lips with his again, his hands roaming wherever they please, and you protest your inability to resist his charms with a half-hearted groan.
"Don't give me that, doll. You asked for a challenge so you'll get one."
You want to scream at him that you know you can't resist him, but that would be conceding to the fact, and really, a part of you wants him to push you as far as you can go. Off the fucking edge if he has to. So your tone remains defiant.
"Gonna get creative, James? Maybe move me to the bed instead of fucking me against a door?"
Barnes laughs but there's no warmth in it, only the sensation of his cool metal hand sliding up your sternum, inching toward your neck, sending goosebumps across your chest.
"Just for that, I will fuck you against this goddamn door until you come, screaming my name."
And then he squeezes and your eyes roll back and you nearly lose it again. It takes all your concentration to reel in your orgasm, but he waits. Waits for the surge of pleasure to overtake you, for you to acquiesce to the pressure around your neck, for you to give him that look that begs him to fuck you.
But it doesn't come.
Again, you push back, deny him the pleasure of your orgasm, but it only serves to increase his desire to please you. Suddenly his demeanor shifts, you can see it in his eyes when he stares straight into yours. The look on Barnes' face has changed. It's almost... imploring. When he kisses you again, it's different, no longer commanding and in control, but simply searching for a way to make you happy. He can't stand that you're torturing yourself, can't stand enjoying himself so much while you fight against your own satisfaction. He wants you to come under the skill of his mouth, to tremble and shake against his face as he tastes your orgasm on his tongue, and he wants you to love it, to enjoy it while it happens. Fuck the game, fuck the challenge. You can do whatever you want to him just for a single moment in heaven between your thighs.
"Please, baby, let me take care of you. Whatever you want, you can have. Whatever you want, just take it. But let me do this for you. Let me be your release."
You don't know what to say. A moment ago he was ready to fuck you so hard you forgot your own name and now he's begging you to let him please you. So you don't say anything, just tug on the button of his pants, slide the zipper down, and release his hard cock from the confines of his pants. He tries to help you, tries to remove his own clothes, but you stop him.
"You can do that later. Just follow through and fuck me against the door like you promised."
He doesn't need to be told twice. One leg is hiked up around his waist and then he's slamming into you with no preamble. Barnes is no longer concerned with kissing you or tasting you or restraining you by your neck. He is only concerned with driving into your sweet cunt, slick with two orgasms, and muttering how gorgeous you are, how fucking gorgeous against your neck until you're digging your nails into his back to take hold of him.
But he's not deep enough and suddenly your other leg is also around his waist and you know for certain there will be bruises on your back and thighs in the morning from the beating you're taking. But the fire in his soul is back and Barnes wants to hear his name on your lips.
"Does that fucking feel good? Is that what you need, doll?" he questions through clenched teeth, his words punctuated with desperation. You manage to gasp out a confirmation between the involuntary cries that escape your mouth every time he hits your g-spot.
"Who makes you feel this way baby? Who fucks you this good?"
"You, James. Only. You." Your thighs tighten around his waist and the blood rushing in your ears makes it difficult to concentrate on the sound of his voice guiding you through your orgasm, but he keeps going, keeps slamming into you, keeps speaking, say it again, baby, say it again.
James, James, James, Jam--
You barely remember the rest, your staggering orgasm, his release inside you, and somehow making it to bed. You just know it feels so good to let go and fall asleep in his arms.
You slip in and out of the fuzzy warmth of sleep to kisses across your chest and down your stomach, not stopping until his mouth is cleaning your thighs and tasting the sweetness of your cunt and pulling one more, languid, idle release from you, and you stay awake just long enough to ask Barnes what he's doing.
"I win, doll."
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A Few Weeks Pt6
Hello All!!!! I am so sorry for the long wait on this part. Thank you for the support and kind words! I look forward to getting some more parts out to y’all soon! As always request and tags are open.
Summary: You are suck in a house with Hiddleston, Stan and Evans and Stan decides he wants a sweet treat.
It is a shorter part but I feel the story coming back and will have parts up very soon!!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Y/N was in a god-awful mood. She was bored and frustrated. Messing around with the men was fun and had its perks, but you could only organism so many times in a day. She opened and closed the fridge, pantry, and cabinets for the fifth time today, hoping something would change or magically appear. She noticed the whipped cream and strawberries and knew there were baking ingredients in the pantry. It had been years since she had baked anything. She cooked all the time, but baking took time, and it was time she usually didn't have. But she had the time now, so might as well. She wanted to make a strawberry shortcake. It was perfect for summer. She started pulling out ingredients and looked up a recipe on her phone. It was very apparent she was rusty at the skill by the time she got the shortcake in the oven. The kitchen counter floor and herself were covered in flour and other ingredients. Y/N got the kitchen cleaned and started cutting up the strawberries when she felt a hand at her back and a kiss on her cheek.
"What are you up to, ms betty crocker?" Sebastian quipped with a smirk on his face.
"I am baking, if you must know."
"Baby, you know that the flour is supposed to go in the recipe, not on you, right?" Sebastian teased.
"YES! I am a little rusty at it, okay." Y/N fired back, half playing around, half a little frustrated at making the mess she did.
"Aww, turn towards me, let me see you."
Y/N turned towards him and saw the smile grow wider on his face. She launched into defending herself. "Stop, don't laugh. I turned the mixer up to high at first, and flour exploded well, everywhere." Embarrassment turning to pride, she followed, "Can you bake at all? No, I didn't think so!"
"Come here, darling, let's clean you up a little," he said while pulling her toward to sink and grabbing the roll of paper towels along the way. Sebastian wetted and then rung out a paper towel and started wiping off the flour on her cheeks and neck. The timer for the shortcake went off, and she rushed to grab the oven mitts and pull them out. It was steaming and just barely golden brown, absolutely perfect. She just hoped it tasted as good as it looked.
Sebastian finally asked, " Those look amazing. Can we dig in?"
Y/N quickly shouted, "No. First, they have to cool; then, I need to assemble them. Plus, I have to finish cutting the strawberries."
"Fine, I will wait then since it appears I have no other options." He resigned, kissing her on the cheek and walking off.
Forty-five minutes later, she had all the berries cut and the cakes out of the pans and ready to assemble. She was thoroughly enjoying herself at this point. The hard stuff was done. She just had to put cream and strawberries on them, and she would be done. She took her time enjoying the process of making everything look nice. Sebastian popped his head in through one of the openings and smiled at the delicious treat in front of him. The woman he had indeed come to admire and care for was standing in front of him with the most blissful smile entirely in her world, enjoying the task before her. He couldn't help himself. He walked over and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a little squeeze and kiss on the neck. Goosebumps broke out over Y/N skin, and she smiled, saying, "Nice try, it still isn't ready. I need to put it in the fridge and let it chill."
"excuse me then he stated mockingly, opening his arms and allowing her to walk over to the fridge and place it inside. When she felt like it was safely on the shelf, she turned around to find Sebastian's finger extended towards her with a dollop of whipped cream on end and a dangerous smile on his lips. Y/N knew what he had in mind and felt her clit throb at the idea of it.
She sauntered over to him. When she was close enough, she slowly leaned forward and took his whole finger in her mouth, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. Sebastian's cock immediately throbbed at the look of her mouth wrapped so tightly around his finger. He couldn't keep himself from letting out a growl as he watched the sultry scene in front of him unfold. He pulled his finger from her mouth with and pop. Y/N scooped another dollop of whip cream, but instead of keeping it on her finger, she smeared it on her neck right below her ear. Y/N rolled her head to the side, allowing him more access to the sensitive spot. He placed soft kisses around the cream at first, taking her breathing to become sporadic, then he took just the very tip of his tongue and licked a thin stripe of the whipped cream. Y/N felt the wetness between her legs growing. Sebastian moved his hand to cup her jaw. He was kissing and licking up all of the sweetness from her neck. He started to bite and move from her neck to her jaw, then finally to her lips. He kissed her long and deep, his hand going into her hair. Her hands grabbing his shirt to keep herself upright. Sebastian grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head, and put a long line of the cream drown her chest right between each breast. He immediately dove in, licking and sucking the cream off. He then worked his way to each nipple, nipping, tugging, and massaging. Y/N moaned and let her head fall back.
Sebastian continued his assault, letting his fingers work at pulling off her shorts and panties. He slid a finger into her and felt how wet she was. He spread her legs with his knee, gave her another long kiss, then whispered, "Jump." She didn't hesitate and hopped up on the counter. "Good girl," he praised, watching her lean backward. The cool countertop made her hiss when her warm skin met it. Sebastian didn't waste another second. He fused his mouth to her center, licking and slurping up her juices. Y/N was arching off the countertop, digging her hands into his hair, trying to get him closer, and wanting to cum hard. He continued working at her clit, and Y/N could feel the knot in her stomach start to tighten. Sebastian finally slid a finger in her making sure she was ready, then slid in another. Y/N was a moaning mess on the counter, desperately trying to get Sebastian to go deeper. Finally finding her voice, she begged, "Please ... need you... in me." Sebastian was more than happy to oblige, stripping out of his jeans and crawling over her on the counter. He slowly pushed into her, making both of them moan at the pleasurable sensation. He started thrusting and could tell she was very close, but today he wanted to cum with her simultaneously. He saw the bowl of cream and dipped his finger in again, thrusting into Y/N hard and fast. He could feel her tightening around him, squeezing every inch. Y/N was sure there would be marks from her nails in Sebastian's shoulder with how hard she was holding on to him. Sebastian whispered in her ear, " Open, darling," and she did. She started sucking off his finger as he pumped in and out of her. The sight of her sucking his finger with her tight lips and his cock being squeezed pushed him over the edge. They both came at the same time, creating a unison of moans and cries. Sebastian slowly pumped once more than looked down at the beautiful woman below him. She had the slightest signs of perspiration starting on her hairline and had a blush on her cheeks. He leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead, whispering, "Come on, darling, let get you all cleaned up."
"I think I will take over that task for you," Chris said, leaning against the wall with the strain of his cock pressing against his shorts. "What do you say, princess? Up for another round because you right now are the sexiest thing I have ever seen."
Y/n was embarrassed at first, but upon hearing him and seeing how turned on he was, she giggled and nodded.
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So for some reason I haven’t been getting the notifications that I’ve been tagged😭 so I will now be binge reading static 🥰 - @ireadthensuetheauthors
The fact that someone would wanna binge my shit is still such a foreign concept to me but like all the best for the rollercoaster ride of emotions you're gonna be on hahahaha. Ly
I said what I said
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GUYS NEW YORK 1947 IM GONNA FUCKING DIE OMG BYE.
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Warnings- smut, could be considered dark, cursing, unprotected sex, 18 plus only minors dni
Pairing- Bucky x Reader
Summary- you hadn't seen him in so long, did he even remember you?
Note- Had this in my notes app for a while. Figured I'd put it to good use somewhere.
You had just gotten news from Steve that Bucky was on the run, and now, so was he.
The entire way home from work your nerves were shot, fumbling your keys in your fingers to unlock the door.
Once inside you noticed a window was cracked open, something you never did due to your line of work. You inched further into the apartment, a shadowed figure sitting at the kitchen table.
All you could see was a gleam of metal and his eyes, only; his eyes didn't sparkle anymore. The gun sitting on the counter kept you on edge, making you stay a certain distance away from him as he stood.
His long strides closed the distance quickly, your heart thundering away in your chest as he stood in front of you. "Buck-"
You were cut off by his hands grabbing your face and lips smashing into yours. He still tasted the same, felt the same, only- larger.
You whimpered into his mouth when he ripped the buttons of your blouse open, your hands going to find the zipper of his pants. "Want you. Need you." He murmured against your lips.
All you could do was nod and let him lift you onto the kitchen table as you pulled and prodded at the buttons and straps of what he was wearing, your skin crawling to touch him. Feel him.
He helped the best he could, hands shaky and not able to reach all of them.
All of the leather was discarded to the floor before your skirt was bunched to your waist, panties ripped at the sides and tossed carelessly.
He tugged you closer by your thighs, leaning to catch your lips in his in a hungry, open mouthed kiss as he sheathed into you with a guttural moan.
The pleasurable burn he brought with him made you keen and tears swell, you could feel every vein and ridge of his cock against your walls. "So tight. Been waiting for me?" He groaned.
You mustered up a soft yeah before he finally started moving, his hips bumping into yours at a hungry pace; the look in his eyes feral.
"Fuck, James." You mewled, gripping the back of his hair. "Say it again." He panted, blue eyes boring into yours.
Your mouth and throat felt dry, feeling the coil already tightening in your abdomen before his warm fingers gripped your jaw. "Say it again." He growled, his thrusts picking up face. "James-"
He was relentless, driving into you as if his life depended on it. You were sure if he went any harder the table under you would break.
Your walls clenched around him and his hips stuttered, a low groan coming from his chest that added to the filthy sounds coming from you.
"Cum for me. I need you to cum for me, baby." He panted.
A tilt of his hips and you were a mewling, whimpering mess under him; clawing at metal and skin as his hips rutted into yours before they stilled, his front flush against your thighs.
His sweet, low moan filled your ears over the ringing as hot spurts of cum filled you with every twitch of his dick.
He barely caught his weight from crushing you, a sudden empty feeling when he slipped out of your walls and pressed wet kisses to you chest.
You held his face in your hands, pulling his head up so you could look at him. "I- have to go away for awhile..." He mumbled as you traced his bottom lip, not wanting him to move away from you yet. "I know."
Tears stung your eyes at the realization. This was the first time you'd fully seen him, touched him, in decades. Nearly a century.
"I'm gonna come back for you." He assured, brows furrowed and lips pressed together tightly.
"Stay with me for just one night?"
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sɴᴇᴀᴋʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙᴏʏ !
warnings- degradation, choking, mommy kink, restraints, pegging, oral (female receiving) masturbation (male receiving)
pairings- mommy! reader x sub! bucky
this is my first drabble/headcannon idk what to call it but lemme know how you feel about it dudes. send me your requests and feed back!!
you came home exhausted from a long day of debriefings and all you wanted was to see your bucky. you opened the door, tossing the keys in a dish. you kicked off your heels and coat but you stop dead in your tracks once you heard a soft whimper come from the hallway.
at first you didn’t acknowledge it, maybe you were tired and need to sleep it off but yet another whimper came from the hallway. you slowly approach the hallway, following the moans which lead to the white door which was you and bucky’s room. you huffed under your breath, bucky was going against your rules once again.
the first time bucky disobeyed you, you played it safe. your dynamic was new and you didn’t want bucky to freak out but if it’s one thing you didn’t like…was repeating yourself. bucky’s chest heaved and shook as he stroked himself. you watched through the the crack of the door as bucky laid face down, thrusting his cock into his hand.
his hand right hand clenched the sheets tightly, while he fists his hard cock. you wondered how long he would go on like this, you smirked to yourself knowing that now was the best time to give a punishment more than ever. "𝘰𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘺...𝘺𝘦𝘴 ! 𝘪𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘺." he moaned into the pillow. his moans escalated, you could tell by the pitch of his voice that he was going to cum hard.
you pussy was drenched at how bucky’s face was smushed into the pillow. you couldn’t help but fantasize of how vocal he would be. bucky panted as he came into his hand. you watched him just lie still, he had knocked the wind out of himself. boy was he in for a treat. you push open the door only for bucky to look at you like a dear caught in head lights.
“ you know after a long, long day at work, momma just wanted to come home to her baby boy and cuddle him. praise him for staying here like a big boy all day.” you seethed, slowly tracing the bed frame with your dark red nail. “but no she had to come home to a sneaky little boy.”
bucky sat up straight with his eyes to the ground, he wouldn’t dare look you in the eye after what he’d just done. “ and to think i was actually going to reward you. pathetic.” you spat. “i gave you simple rules to follow and all you had to do was follow them.”
“i-i did mommy, but you were gone so long an-and it just happened. i’m sorry mommy. i won’t do it again.” bucky’s pale blue eyes filled with tears, you scoffed as his face began to turn red. you stand in front of him, he whimpers at how you tower over him.
you brush you hand on his cheekbone, loving his soft skin. you tick your tongue at him before grabbing us throat in you hand, forcing him to meet your eyes. “i didn’t give you permission to speak did i sweetie?” you arched an eyebrow at him. he shook his head vigorously. his lip quivered as he looks down at his hardening cock. you peck his lip gently biting his shaking lips. “what’s rule number one lovie ?”
bucky didn’t answer you, he was ashamed of himself. you clench his throat tighter. “if you don’t answer me i swear you will get it.” he whimpers and swallowed, you hum at his adam’s apple bobbing. “don’t speak unless given permission.” he whispered. you release some of the pressure on his neck.
“and rule number two?” you ask him. your left hand begins unbuttoning your black blouse, revealing bits and pieces of your red bra. “don’t touch myself with out permission.” his eyes glance down at your chest, his mouth watered for a taste of your tits but he knew was in trouble.
“rule number three.” you unbotton your pants. “no cumming unless mommy tells me to.” you let him go, and take a step back from the bed. “now get on your knees and suck mommy’s clit, i just might let you off scott free.” bucky fell stood up and fell to his knees in front of you. he kissed your stomach, trailing them down to the top of your pants. he kisses your hip bones while he pulls down your black work pants.
once your pants fell down, you stepped out of the bottoms, bucky kissed the cloth covering your pussy. he rolls down your panties and licks a strip up your clit, sending a cold chill down your spine. he slurps and sucks on your clit, he’s pretty eyes looking up at you. you grip his dark brown locks within your fingers. “i know you can do better than that sweetheart.”
you start grinding your pussy onto his face, he pulled away to take a few small breaths but he enjoyed every moment of it. you moan out loud, pushing his face between your two legs and keeping him there for a few minutes. he may be a bad boy right now but he knew what he was good at. you felt your stomach tighten and you pussy clench as his tongue entered you a few times more.
you pull bucky away by his hair and push him onto the bed. you saw him land on the bed, moaning at the friction he got when his hand grazes his cock. you walked into your closet and picked up bucky’s favorite black and gold dildo. you reached up and grabbed the little the of lube. you squirted the liquid all over you hand then stroked the veiny strap-on.
you also grabbed a black ziptie, a little bondage never hurt any it right? you strut over to bucky who watched your every move. “turn around.” you ordered him. he whines while turning around, his leaking cock was pressing down on the covers.
“mommy please touch-“ you slap his round ass hard. “speak out of turn one more time and i swear i’ll have you in a cockring for a week.” you grabbed his hands and held them behind his back. you wrapped the ziptie around his precious hands.
“since you want to be a whore and play with yourself, your now nothing more then a useless hole.” you hissed. “ass up.” bucky spread his legs for you, showing his wet asshole to you. his whole puckered as if it was asking you to fuck it. you slapped his ass once more, earning a yelp. you smiled before rubbing the tip of your strapon on his aching hole.
he moaned loudly, stuffing his face into a white pillow. “not prepping you this time baby. only good boys get prepped.” you gloated. you wanted him to feel please but you also need to prove a point that no one disobeys you. you slowly entered him but stopped at half the length. “what’s you color sweetie.”
“g-green m-mom-mommy” he sputters out, you can tell he was already starting to fill full. you fully enter him, easing bucky into it. once he was adjusted you picked up the pace, his moans jumped as you pounded into him. you hand pushes his face into the pillow, annihilating his hole at a fast past.
“who’s ass is this?” you slow down on bucky, you pushed you blazer away from your body as you were starting to get hot. when bucky didn’t answer you leaned down so far that your breasts are touching his back. you run a hand under him, bucky pushes his head in the pillow, the pressure you applied to his cold was too much.
“momma asked you a question lovie. are you ignoring momma?” you teased, trailing your nails along the sides of his veiny cock. you stroked bucky at a painfully slow pace. “n-n-no mommy.” he moans.
“who’s. ass. is. this?” you pound hard for every word, bucky screams your name loudly feeling his prostate being hit so many times. “ITS YOURS MOMMY.” you smirked at his tone, he was practically begging for you to let him cum.
you grab his hips and ram into his ass, your left hand grabs the zip ties and pull them closer to you. bucky’s back arched at the pressure you were putting on his prostate. “mo-mommy i-i-im gon-gonna come-e” bucky whines.
you pulled his locks, forcing him to look back at you. “should i let you come whore? hmm? are you gonna listen to mommy next time?” you asked. he nodded hard, but you wanted to play more. “i can’t hear you baby.”
“YES MOMMY ILL BE A GOOD BOY! PLEASE PLEASE LET ME COME.” he cries loudly. you were satisfied, he learned his lesson. you let his hair go and struck his cock at a fast speed. his moans were getting louder to the point where you knew the neighbors would ask who mommy was.
after a few more pumps and pounds bucky was coming hard in your hand. you slowed you strokes. “you took your punishment so well baby.” you kisses his back. you slowly reaped yourself from him, getting off the bed and getting a towel and a pair of scissors. you released him and helped him be over. you cleaned him off and helped bucky get under the covers.
“you did so well baby. mommy’s proud of you.”
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Hi can you pretty please w a cherry on top add me to the static tag list? It’s probably my favorite thing ever
Absolutely! You're so nice. Thank you so much for reading :)
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Fire on Fire - b. barnes
Warnings: blood, violence, death, not so nice Bucky
I have to say I expected a lot of things, but not this. From the very start, I knew this was a bad idea, but while we were on the plane to Europe, Bucky and I were studying the material provided by Sam. Somewhere along the line, after reading the documents ten times and calling with Sam for at least an hour, Bucky decided that we had no lead. We lost the Flag Smashers, didn’t know where they were, and we weren’t even close to finding out where the serum’s coming from. Therefore, he had this great idea to break out a criminal from the prison. And not just any criminal, the worst one. The most dangerous. The smartest one. Helmut Zemo.
I never met him, but I was cautious, because I know he was the one who broke up Avengers all those years ago. Planting a seed of doubt that grew and tear apart a team we thought was indestructible. He was the one who singlehandedly manipulated everybody and destroyed the Winter Soldier program, killing the remaining Winter Soldiers. I tried to reason with Bucky, but his mind was made up already. “Tony will understand. Everybody will understand and once this is over, he will go back to prison,” with that the debate was over and I felt smaller than ever before. Why do I always feel so pathetic around him?
If somebody told me yesterday, that I would be sitting in front of Zemo, on his private jet, on the way to Madripoor, I would laugh. But here I was, having the same suspicion in my eyes, just like Sam, who was livid, when he met up with us. Us meaning me, Bucky and Zemo. Everything went according to plan for Bucky and after a heated debate, Sam agreed, knowing that without Zemo they were far from solving this mystery around super-soldier serum.
“I must say, you look well, James. Certainly, better than last time I saw you,” Zemo said nonchalantly while sipping his champagne. “Looks like getting your life and memories together helped you a lot.”
“Not that my life is any of your business,” said Bucky calmly, but there was an edge to his tone. He was rigidly sitting in the seat and I could tell, he was tensed and annoyed by the presence of Zemo, or Baron Zemo.
“Of course, no,” Zemo said quickly. “Just pointing it out. By the way, have you replaced your partner?” he looked at me with curiosity in his eyes. Until now, I was successful in avoiding contact with the man. “Because last time, you were running around with Captain Rogers, no?”
“Oh, he will join us. But you better hope it’s after you return to prison,” smiled Sam sarcastically at Zemo, when he noticed the tick in the man’s eye. He knew Steve Rogers was his biggest enemy and threat. Not Bucky, not Sam, but Steve Rogers. Because years ago, he was fucking with his family and he almost lost his best friend again. All because of Zemo. And Steve Rogers never forgets those who try and jeopardize those he loves the most.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Zemo put both hands up in surrender and looked at me again. “Just wanted you to introduce me if we are to work together. I believe we’ve never met. My name is Helmut Zemo,” he held out his hand and it took me a while to accept it, but I did, while curtly introducing myself.
“Okay, enough of the necessities,” said Bucky in an irritated tone. “What is the plan?”
“Well, you two,” Zemo jerked his head in mine and Bucky’s direction. “have to stay incognito. They would recognize the faces of two Avengers, especially your James.”
“What about me? Won’t they recognize me?” Sam asked curiously, while Zemo smiled and pulled out a cellphone.
“Not necessary. You will become the one and only Conrad Mack, an African rake, also known as the Smiling Tiger,” with that, Zemo handed confused looking Sam the phone.
“Oh shit, he does look like me,” he showed the photo of a man, who was the exact replica of the shocked Avenger sitting in front of me. Minus a few pounds and an outfit, I have never seen on Sam Wilson.
“Nice,” mumbled Bucky and with each minute looked more and more annoyed. Irritated by the whole situation. Well, it was his idea.
“We will need the help from a woman named Selby. Once we get to her, it will be your time to shine,” he looked at me with intense eyes. “She won’t talk without persuasion. We get the information, and we get out of there.”
I sighed heavily. “She will know. People know when I use my powers on them. They know they are acting against their will. And what then? She will send people to kill us, and everybody will know why we are in Madripoor.”
“We will deal with that when the time’s come,” the nonchalant voice and his unbothered face were starting to make me as irritated as Bucky was.
“You better don’t do anything stupid, Zemo,” warned him Bucky in a tight voice, and it looked like he wanted to say more, but a loud ringtone was heard in the small space. For a second, all four of us looked at each other, until I realized it’s my phone. Dread crept into my bones the moment I saw who called me.
“It’s Tony,” I almost whined. “Why is he calling me, it wasn’t my idea.”
“Calm down, just pick up the phone and put him on a speaker. We are here and we are a team,” Sam’s reassuring didn’t help, but it was better than nothing. So, I picked up and stayed silent. My voice was hidden somewhere deep in my vocal cord and refused to show up. Just like I wanted to hide in the deepest pit of this earth. Crawl there and drown in my own shame. How could I do that to Tony?
“Well, hello, kid. I know you’re there. I can hear the pounding of your heart over here,” there was mocking in Tony’s voice, but I knew he was angry. At least a little bit. “What did I tell you, sweetheart? You are the voice of the reason in that little gang you have going on. And the first thing you do? You break out Helmut Zemo out of a prison.”
I had to take a deep breath, otherwise, I would surely pass out from the stress. I was looking at Sam and Bucky for any sort of help. They promised help. “My voice was not being heard,” I said quietly and looked at Bucky, whose intense eyes were on me the whole time. He scared me a little bit, when he looked at me like this, because his face was so unreadable, and I never knew what was happening inside his mind. Maybe it’s better when he is ignoring me.
“Oh, and where are the other two marauders?” asked Tony.
“Right here and just for the information. They met me and Zemo was already with them. But that doesn’t matter. I didn’t like it at first, still don’t, but he can help, and this thing can be over before more people get hurt,” said Sam and at the end of his last sentence was almost breathless.
“That’s right. He knows about super-soldiers and the serum more than anyone else. With him, we can finish this. We had no leads and now we do,” Bucky was enthusiastically leaning forward so Tony would hear him better.
“Barnes, I hate the fact that I would do a similar thing. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t stupid and reckless. Where are you heading, right now?”
“Madripoor,” answered Sam and spit the word as if it was a curse.
“Nice. Also, I felt obligated to tell you, that after Zemo’s escape, some people turned their eyes on you, so be careful. I will do what I can over here.”
“Thank you, Tony,” I mumbled quietly, still a little ashamed.
“Oh, come one, kid. You didn’t think I was really angry at you, did you?” he laughed, and I rolled my eyes. “I just wanted to see you sweat a little for not telling me beforehand. By the way, Shadow peed in my lab again.”
“My God. I’m sorry Tony.”
“No, that’s fine. We had a conversation, I tried to reason with her and explain that she is being a very bad girl. Then Morgan ran in, stole Shadow and the conversation was over,” I could imagine him walking back and forth in his lab at that very moment. "Haven't seen them in a couple of hours."
“That dog pees everywhere,” cut in Sam and laughed at the look I threw at him.
“Not true, she never peed in my room or my bed,” said Bucky nonchalantly.
That captured Sam’s attention. “What was she doing in your bed, man?”
Bucky shrugged his shoulders and looked at me for a second. “Scaring away bad dreams. She’s good at it. Good for cuddles, a great listener too. Doesn’t talk back as much as you do,” that made Sam roll his eyes.
“That she is,” I smiled at the thought of my big baby.
“Who is Shadow,” asked suddenly Zemo and I could hear a groaning coming from Tony after hearing Zemo’s voice.
Safe to say, I was not used to being alone with Bucky Barnes and every single cell in my body was somehow reacting to his presence. But this was not the time for my overreactions, not while Sam and Zemo were in one of many bars in Madripoor, and we were waiting nearby, cover by hoods and shadows of the buildings.
“Are you okay?” asked Bucky suddenly and from underneath the hood thrown over his head I could see his eyes watching me.
“Yeah, why?” I mumbled and straightened awkwardly.
“You look a little pale.”
“Yeah, no. I’m fine,” I waved my hand and turned away from him a little, so he won’t see the light blush on my cheeks.
“Maybe you should have stayed on the plane,” it caught me off guard, making me blink at him as if he grew another head. Did he say that?
“It’s dangerous,” he shrugged his shoulders and my jaw almost fell to the floor.
“Most missions are,” I mumbled, flabbergasted by his statement. Some would say it’s cute he cares about my wellbeing, but to me, it sounded as if I was not good enough, strong enough. It sounded patronizing. “Don’t know what your problem is with this one.”
I should have been quiet. His sharp eyes bored into me, and I almost took a step back instinctively. “I don’t have a problem,” he spat, and it looked like he wanted to say more. Way more. What have I ever done to this man?
Before I could have said something else, Bucky’s phone beeped. “Let’s go,” he grunted, and without waiting for me, slipped into the alleyway and broke the heavy chain on the backdoor to the bar. Through a maze of hallways, while Bucky looked at his phone, we got to a certain door. Bucky tapped on them two times before Zemo opened them with a sly smile on his face.
“Time to shine, sweetheart,” he said when I walked through the door. A woman with short blonde hair and an angry expression was sitting on a couch with Sam behind her and a couple of men laying unconsciously on the floor.
“Well, look who it is. The Winter Soldier himself,” she said with a smile, but her scowl was still present.
“There’s no Winter Soldier, anymore,” if it was possible, Bucky’s face furrowed even more than it already was, while he stood next to the couch, looking at the woman.
“I’ve heard,” she mumbled in a venomous tone.
“You ready?” asked Sam and looked at me with a little bit of concern.
“Yes,” I nodded and walked closer to the woman, who glared at me when I was right in front of her.
When she wanted to stand up, Sam took her shoulders and pulled her back. “If I, were you, I would relax,” he said to her and nodded at me to come closer. I reached out both of my hands and touched her temples. I could feel the energy flowing from the tips of my fingers and watched as her eyes became distant almost immediately. When I was this close to a person, when I was touching them and they were calm, it was easier to use my power. It was faster and I didn’t have to use as much energy.
“Is the super-soldier serum in Madripoor?” asked Zemo, who came closer, after he watched the woman, Selby and her new reactions with fascination.
“Yes,” she said in a tight voice. I felt her struggling, fighting against the grip I had on her mind, but it was useless.
“Who created it?”
“Doctor Nagel,” she said without hesitation.
“Where do we find him?” asked Sam and looked at me for a second, before he looked back at Selby.
This time she really didn’t want to answer. The information we were looking for was a secret she needed to keep to herself. A secret that could get her killed and she knew it. I put more pressure on her mind. “Answer,” I ordered.
“In the docks. Container 4261,” as soon as I pulled away, the look of utter terror crossed the woman’s face. “No,” she whispered and put her hand on her mouth as if she could take back every information, she gave us.
“Thank you, Selby,” said Zemo, and before any of us could protest, or stop his next action, he pulled out a gun and shot Selby straight in the face, to her right eye. Her body fell back against the couch cushions, making Sam jump back. I, on the other hand, could immediately feel a splash of liquid on my face. Her blood.
“What the hell?” yelped Sam, and Bucky was already wrestling the gun out of Zemo’s hand.
“She would alert others,” Zemo tried to reason with them, but Bucky only showed him harder against the wall.
“You alright?” asked Sam and touched my arm.
“Yes,” I gulped and tried to fight off the need to throw up. There was a dead woman right in front of me and I had her blood on my face. “Yes,” I repeated.
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