The lights in Stark Tower dim on a gentle cycle—cool and golden like a fading sunset. You rub your eyes as the hallway stretches quiet and long before you, socks sliding soft over polished floors.
It’s late.
And you're exhausted.
You offer a tired goodnight to Steve, who nods with a warm smile from the common room couch, book half-forgotten in his lap.
Behind you… Bucky follows.
Silently. Footsteps so soft for a man made of steel and shadows.
You glance back at him. “You don’t have to follow me now,” you murmur, voice laced with sleep.
He tilts his head.
“Protection” he says simply.
Not a question.
A statement.
You bite your lip and nod—too tired to argue, too soft-hearted to tell him no. Still, anxiety coils in your gut.
You grab your Stark Phone and speed-dial Tony.
He answers after three rings, voice groggy and annoyed. “If this is about him eating toothpaste, I swear to God—”
“Tony,” you whisper. “He’s following me. Into my room.”
Pause.
“...Okay, that’s less funny. Still not my problem. Give him a blanket or something.”
“I don’t think he knows what blankets are, let alone boundaries,” you say, glancing at the man shadowing your every move like a silent sentinel.
“Yeah, well—RoboCop's not getting his own room until you've got him fully housetrained—Congrats, Thumbelina. You’re now the proud owner of a six-foot trauma-soaked heat-seeking murder puppy. Mazel tov.”
You sigh.
He hangs up.
You push open your bedroom door and slip inside, flicking on the lamp with a soft click.
The light spills across the room in a warm wash—cream walls, soft bedding, a shelf of books you haven’t had time to finish. It’s a safe space. Your space.
The Soldier follows.
And pauses.
Like an animal entering unfamiliar territory.
You move to the dresser, trying not to act weird. “I’m just getting ready for bed. You can—um… you can sit? Over there?”
He stands by the door. Watching.
Every mirror, every shadow, every flicker of movement, he tracks it all. Head snapping slightly, expression unreadable.
And then JARVIS speaks.
“Good evening, Miss. Shall I dim the—”
CLANG.
You whip around just in time to see him move—smooth and deadly, like a switch flipped inside his skull.
Arm raised, metal hand snapping toward a wall panel like he’s going to actually rip JARVIS straight out of the drywall.
“Shit—No!” you squeak, rushing forward.
He throws a glance over his shoulder—tense, locked in—but the moment his eyes meet yours, the storm stalls. His breathing is shallow. Pupils blown wide. JARVIS had startled him.
“Room compromised,” he says, clipped.
You place a hand on his arm—his flesh arm—and slowly ease him back.
“That’s just JARVIS. He’s… he’s like a ghost that lives in the walls, okay?”
He blinks. “...Ghost?”
You smile nervously. “He won’t hurt anyone.”
Slowly… so slowly… he lowers his arm.
But his eyes never stop moving.
You set your clothes down for the morning and glance over to find him standing in the corner, half-shadowed, metal hand flexing subtly at his side. Not speaking. Not relaxing.
Just watching.
“Do you… do you want to sleep?” you offer gently. “I could make a spot—on the wee couch, or…”
He doesn’t answer. But when you climb into bed, turn off the lamp, and settle under your blanket, you hear the smallest creak of the floor.
He moves.
He sits in the corner.
Back against the wall.
Facing the door.
Soldier on guard.
Watching.
Protecting.
Sometime in the night, you wake to a strange stillness.
The room is dark, but you can feel his presence.
Eyes heavy with sleep, you lift your head and see him still there—knees drawn up, eyes open.
He hasn’t moved.
Not once.
You whisper, “You can rest, too, you know…”
He says nothing.
But for the first time, his head tilts.
The soft hum of Stark Tower fills the silence like a heartbeat in a hollow chest. The skyline glows faint behind your blackout curtains, and somewhere distant, JARVIS murmurs about internal diagnostics.
But inside your room, there’s stillness.
You’ve long since drifted off to sleep, curled beneath layers of blankets, your breathing steady and quiet.
Across the room, seated in the corner where he’s kept watch for hours, Bucky or 'Soldat' is also asleep.
Or… trying.
His back is pressed against the wall, legs drawn in tight, arms rigid across his lap. He hadn’t meant to sleep. Hadn’t wanted to.
A whimper broke the silence. Bucky's head thrashed from side to side, his long hair flicking across his face with the movement. His metal fingers twitched and clenched.
But the moment his eyes had closed, the nightmare came.
His breath hitches.
It starts in his chest like a tremor, then takes hold—harder, faster. Metal fingers twitch. His jaw tightens. In the dark, his eyes move behind closed lids.
Russian words tumbled from his lips as his movements grew more agitated. Sweat beaded on his forehead as whatever nightmare has him in its grip tightened its hold.
Restraints.
Cold.
Hands.
Falling.
Needles.
The chair.
Pain.
The voice.
Pain.
That voice.
Pain.
"missiya" mission.
He jerks upright with a sudden violent inhale, like he’s surfacing from deep underwater. For a heartbeat, he’s not in Stark Tower.
He’s not in your bedroom.
He’s back in Siberia.
You jolt awake instantly—some part of your brain registering the shift in energy before your eyes even open.
But it’s too late.
The weight of a body is over you, the cold wrap of vibranium fingers tight around your throat.
He’s straddled you before his eyes even fully focus, breath ragged and guttural like a wolf mid-attack. There’s no recognition in his face—just movement.
You can’t breathe.
Your hands claw instinctively at his wrist—not to hurt him, just to get air.
Your voice comes out as a whisper, a desperate plea.
“Soldat—!”
The grip loosens instantly.
His eyes go wide.
Recognition blooms like a bomb going off in his chest.
He scrambles backward, nearly falling off the bed as his breath hitches and catches.
You swear for a second he looks at you like he’s seen a ghost.
“Handler,” he breathes, voice hollow.
A beat.
Then—
"Awaiting instructions, doll."
Ok—that's new—what the fuc—
The endearment slipped out, seemingly without his awareness.
Wait.
His voice.
You freeze.
The accent—it’s... lessened.
Still there, still faint, but there’s a tremor of something else beneath it. Something almost American. Like muscle memory from a past self is bleeding back in.
You massaged your throat, watching him warily. "What did you just call me?" you managed, your voice raspy.
You look at him—he’s curled into himself now, pressed against the far edge of your bed like he wants to disappear into the wall.
“Cryostasis?” he mutters.
A tremor starting in his flesh hand.
You frowned, confused by the unfamiliar term. "Cryostasis? What's that?" you asked cautiously.
His eyes darted to your face, then away, as though even acknowledging the question might be a violation of protocol.
"Cold comes. Then nothing." His odd new accent stumbled over the clinical description.
You whisper, “It’s okay.”
His head shakes—once, hard. “No.”
“That is not going to happen,” you say softly.
He doesn’t answer.
You reach for him—not fast, not aggressive. Just enough to brush your fingers against his sleeve. You’re shaking. So is he.
“I shouldn’t have woken you like that,” you whisper.
His eyes flash to yours.
“You shouldn’t come near me.”
He says it like a warning. Like he’s dangerous. A loaded weapon without a safety.
The morning light leaks into Stark Tower through sleek glass panels, catching dust motes in golden slants. The smell of coffee and toast drifts from the communal kitchen as the Avengers mill around in various states of half-awake bickering.
Tony is already three steps ahead, tapping away at a holographic interface while bemoaning someone using his milk.
You step inside, shoulders pulled in, your oversized hoodie swallowing your frame. Your neck is artfully concealed—layers of makeup, your hair tucked to one side, collar tugged high. You don’t want them to see.
Behind you, Bucky moves like a shadow—soundless but ever-present. His eyes never leave you. He doesn’t acknowledge the others.
“Jesus,” Clint mutters under his breath, low enough that only Natasha hears. “He’s still glued to her.”
Natasha doesn’t respond. Her eyes are locked on Bucky. Calculating.
Steve is seated at the far end of the room, newspaper in one hand, coffee in the other—but when you walk in, his eyes lift over the rim of the mug. They soften. Then narrow.
Then shift to the Soldier.
Something is off.
Tony glances up from his projections.
“Morning, Thumbelina,” he greets, in that usual teasing voice he uses when pretending not to care too much. Then his gaze flicks to you again—and he stills.
You’re not quite fast enough with your coffee mug.
His eyes catch the edge of discoloration peeking beneath your concealer—faint, but unmistakable. A handprint, forming from throat to jaw. Not quite healed. Not quite hidden.
His expression drops.
“What the hell is that?”
You freeze mid-sip.
The room goes quiet.
Tony’s voice cuts the air like a blade. “That better not be what I think it is.”
Your throat closes. “Tony—”
“I knew it. I knew the 'silent Soviet scarecrow' routine was just a breath away from having a full-on Hulk-themed episode!”
Bucky reacts instantly.
The tension in his shoulders coils tight like a sprung trap. His jaw clenches, head snapping toward Stark like a weapon finding a target.
One step forward—fast. Direct.
“Back down.”
His voice is low, cold. His accent is faded but not gone—words flatter, more clipped. American ghosts clinging to Russian steel.
Steve’s head tilts.
Tony lifts his hands, mockingly. “Oh, look at that! RoboRambo speaks. Did they teach you that in murder school or is that the accent of a guy trying to remember who he used to be?”
Bucky’s fist tightens. Metal groaning.
Your hand shoots out, placing it on his chest.
“Doll,” he says instantly, like the word grounds him.
"Stand Down ... Please"
He nods.
But his attention doesn’t leave you.
Not for one second.
Steve stands slowly. Not threatening. Just observing.
“You hear that?” he says quietly to the room, gaze on Stark but words aimed at Bucky. “His voice. It’s… changing.”
“Changing into what?” Tony mutters, pacing slightly now. “The warm tones of someone who nearly crushed her windpipe in her sleep?”
Bucky flinches. It’s subtle—but it’s there.
“Tony, please,” you whisper. “It wasn’t his fault.”
“Oh, no, I forgot—brainwashing, programming, whatever. But forgive me if I don’t want my employees being used as a therapy animal for the man who can snap necks like breadsticks!”
Bucky stares blankly.
None of the names or faces mean anything to him.
But the tension rising in you—that registers.
He steps protectively between you and Tony.
“Neutralize the threat,” he says coldly.
“No, no—” Your hands are shaking. “Don’t do that. There’s no threat. Tony’s just… being Tony.”
“Irritating?” Clint offers, trying to diffuse the moment. “Yeah, he’s great at that.”
Steve crosses the room slowly.
“Bucky,” he tries.
The Soldier’s gaze doesn’t flicker. His expression doesn’t change.
There’s no flicker of recognition in those eyes. Only patience. Obedience. A mind made of shattered glass slowly piecing itself back together.
You guide him gently to the table. He lets you. When you move, he follows. When you speak, he listens.
But when others speak?
He blinks. No comprehension.
“Why doesn’t he know us?” Natasha asks softly. Her words are for Steve.
“I don’t know,” Steve murmurs. “But the accent fading… that’s gotta be memory. It means someone’s still in there.”
Tony crosses his arms, looking you dead in the eye. “You need to be honest with us. If you’re in danger—”
“I’m not.”
“You could’ve died.”
“But I didn’t,” you say. Your voice is small. “And he stopped the second he realized.”
“And then went right back to calling you ‘Handler,’” Tony snaps.
I just wrote this to amuse myself so no hate please. Sorry if English is not good. I might write another part for it cos I like the idea personally.
Pairing : Bucky X ofc
Warnings : bad writing haha
Summary:
Bucky has gone winter soldier and a goddess who can help is called.
'He needs help'
Part one: who ya gonna call
'Call Kali, she can stop him, and help him’ Thor said.
‘Kali? You think?’
‘She’s a goddess, she can stop Bucky no problem. She has ... powers, she can help him heal his mind. Otherwise your Winter Soldier problem will be ongoing. Also, I think those two will get on well’ Thor smirked to herself.
Ayo nodded listening intently.
‘Ayo- you ring her- you know her, she’ll listen...’
‘Alright, I’ll call her, I’ll call her..’
———
‘Li’
‘Huh?’ She mumbled, half asleep.
‘Kali, I need your help’
‘Ayo, is that you ? It’s the middle of the..’
‘Someone has triggered him, he’s gone into winter soldier mode’
‘Who?’ What?’
‘We don’t have time for this- Bucky- the dark haired guy, Steve’s friend from a hundred years ago’
‘A hundred years ago? Is he a threat at that age ?'
‘li' Ayo groaned, exasperated, 'Steve’s friend...he's not actually 100, he's like Steve,'
Li sruched her eyes together trying to place him, but couldn't.
‘You’ve met him before I think..’
‘Where?’
‘look, ’ll send through details, you need to help him, and he’s just your type’
Kali could hear Ayo’s smile. She rolled her eyes to herself.
‘My type? What’s that supposed to mean? I don't like old men'
Ayo sighed.
‘hes got dark hair and he's quite dangerous, but actually a marshmallow under it all.’
Li sighed as well. ‘ I do love a dark haired marshmallow i admit' this intrigued her now.
So- you know him?
‘He was in Wakanda for a couple years, we deprogrammed him, but it seems to have failed. We called him the white wolf’
‘what? Ayo....’
‘At any rate Kali, you have ways that no one else has’
‘The white wolf, that sounds ridiculous’
‘Hmmmm’
‘Ugh, ok, he better be worth it if I’ve got to travel to you’
Ayo laughed.
‘He’s a good man under it all, he’s been through A LOT, he needs some.. some serious help’ she emphasised. ‘We need you, he needs some ..’
‘Ok, ok, I hear you, I'm coming..'
—/
They let her through and she glanced at Sam.
‘are you Kali?'
She nodded and smiled, Sam shook his head at her.
' are you gonna be ... He might..' sam stoped mid sentence, he had a bad feeling about the full force of the winter soldier and this tiny girl.
She looked at him,puzzled, and Sam took in her slender arms , her wide eyes. 'she's mincemeat, he's gonna kill her' he thought.
She walked in and found him, about to break through the unbreakable glass. She cooks t see his face, the force of his punches flung his dark hair over his visage.
As he finally burst through he stopped as he saw her. His wild eyes narrowed , he was panting from the effort of breaking the glass.
‘who are you?’ he said icily.
She searched for his eyes under the shock of black hair,
‘You must be James. I’m here to help you’ her voice was steady, calm.
‘Who’s James?’ He snarled at her and lashed out and he grabbed her throat. She started to choke. Ok, not a good start, she thought, but she closed her eyes to feel him through the touch. He threw her across the room, she didn't fight back. She felt rage, confusion, and a haze, pain, fear….it was suddenly silent, still and the air felt thick.
She coughed, cleared her throat and got up slowly. He moved toward her, like a cat, making no noise and slowly enclosed her arm and pushed her away, to the ground, he almost tore her arm off.
She exhaled. That would bruise.
‘James’ she said calmly, she swallowed.
‘Who are you?’ His voice was cold, devoid of any inflection.
‘Your friends have sent me,’ He suddenly laughed bitterly.
‘Come’ she said, he stopped , she rubbed her arms that had been knocked, but she looked at him with a calmness that disconcerted him. She searched his eyes and gave him a gentle smile which stopped the soldier in his tracks.
She reached out and he watched her, motionless as she raised her hand to brush her fingers against his jaw, his head started aching.
‘Come to me’ she said.
‘Stop’ she reached out her hand.
‘Wha.... What?...’ he growled.
He just stared at her. He felt warmth and was unprepared to see her hand was already in his, his Eyes growing wide, confused. She didn’t let go.
He grabbed her arm and his grip from his other hand got harder and harder, she could feel the pain in her mortal body. She leaned close to him, he was taken aback. She touched his cheek and all he saw was light.
-//
He woke up, panicking, panting. ‘Ssshhhh’ a woman’s voice, a warm perfume, was he dreaming? No- His head hurt, ached, he dimly realised he was shaking. ‘It’s ok James, you’re ok’ she held his arms down lightly, he was going to wrench away, but something made him exhale, he was suddenly aware of his body, he lay on his side, nestled into warm skin, soft, he felt arms around his shoulder, on his arm, Skin, soft, he gasped, he felt his heart pound, what was this?, The soft contact, it overwhelmed his senses, the fear in his head not making sense of the comfort of skin, ‘Rest now, it’s ok, I have you’
Her voice was gentle, he swore he felt lips on his head. ‘You’ll be ok, it’s just you and me here,'
He gripped the forearm over his, if it hurt her, she didn’t show it. His heart was still racing.
He tried to slow his breath.
‘Who are you? What’s happened? Where am I?’ His voice still came out urgent, hoarse,
‘A friend, I won’t let anything happen to you, sleep now sweet boy,’ he reached out in the darkness, again, he didn't know what he was searching for, he only found the soft edge of a body, ‘I need to go, they will find me and...’ he whispered, he felt out of it, dizzy, like he wanted to splash cold wa to er in his face to feel clear, 'James, no one is coming, just focus, it’s just you and me, I’m a friend, listen to my voice, it’s ok’ his brow furrowed, he was confused but his fear was subsiding.. As if she read his mood she ran her fingers down his arm, she placed his hand on her side. ‘Feel me, it’s alright I promise you, I promise,’ he felt her warm breath on his scalp, suddenly he was so tired , he could t keep his eyes open, ‘who...’ his eyes closed and a heaviness overtook his whole being.
‘Sleep now’ she cooed to him and he did.
—-
He slept, she heard him breathe shakily, still agitated, he unconsiously wrapped his arm around her and brought her closer to him and pressed his nose into her skin. It was like he was under a spell.
His shaking stopped as his breaths became longer.
She looked down at him. He was all hardness and scars. She could feel all the bruises all over her throat, but it wasn’t his fault, not really.
They were right to have called her. The desperate look in his friends eyes when they knew they couldn’t help him.
She squeezed his shoulder and couldn’t help but plant another kiss on top of his dirty hair.
——-
She walked downstairs in the morning.
‘Oh shit’ Sam said, looking at her bruises.
She shrugged. ‘I forgot how fragile your bodies are..it hurts!’ She made a face.
‘Are you alright? Jesus’
‘I’ll be fine. More importantly, James is ok, I will need to work with him a bit but he is back to himself for now. He is resting.’
‘Thank you Kali’ Steve nodded to her.
‘He’s been through a lot yes? I feel like they got to every part of his mind. I'm surprised he is still able to function.'
Steve shock his head in dismay and rubbed his eyes.
She went to touch his arm,
‘He’ll be ok, his head will be killing him though, and he probably won’t remember anything poor darling’ she smiled and Steve smiled, trying to act normal even though she was covered in bruises.
Needing an escape from the loud and busy city life, Bucky comes to stay with you on your little farm. He didn’t expect you, a hardworking and beautiful woman with struggles of your own, to take his breath away and make life a little less dreary.
No warnings I don’t think. Sorry English is not my first language so apologies if it makes no sense. I also hate writing y/n so I write a she/ her or my original female character Kali. Hope you like.
———-
He got into the apartment and she stood up, he saw her worried expression, ‘I’m ok’ he said and walked in a few paces, dropped his gear. She saw he winced ever so slightly.
She ran to fill his arms and he turned his head gently to nuzzle her hair. She smelled like home to him.
She wrapped her arms around him and he flinched slightly.
‘You’re hurt’ she tipped her head up to meet his eyes and he leant down to press his lips to hers.
‘It’s fine, I’ve had worse’ she knew that, but it hurt her to see how reckless he was with himself. Looking up at him she thanked the gods he was here, safe, home.
She reached up to stroke his cheek and he caught her hand, held her fingers to his lips and kissed them. ‘I missed you’ his voice soft.
His eyes were tired.
‘I’m gonna have a shower’ he said and smoothed her hair back from her face. He leant down and kissed her once, twice, three times.
‘It’s so good to see you, dove’
He was quiet, quieter than usual.
He let her hand go and went to the bathroom.
She heard the water and after a minute or two went in after him, making a bit of noise so he’d know she was coming,
‘What are you doing?’ He chided gently, but he wasn’t angry. In fact her presence calmed him. It always did.
She stripped naked and opened the shower and walked in. He had stitches in his side. Bruises, cuts.
‘Oh James ’ she cooed. ‘Sit’ she stroked his hair back and he sat down on the shower bench seat and closed his eyes. She shampooed and rinsed his hair. He relaxed into the feeling of her fingers massaging his scalp. So soothing. He opened his eyes to see her profile as she turned into him, her eyes on his body, She washed his skin and he just sat back and relaxed, he reached out to touch her soft hips, run his hands down her, she smiled at his touch and kissed his cheek.
He felt safe, loved with her, she trusted him. She wrapped her arms around him and sat with him in her arms. She didn’t see the tears run out of his eyes, but she felt his arms around her, and his lips in the crook of her neck. She smoothed his rough edges out, washed away the fight, they sat for a few minutes wrapped up, under the water. She kissed his face, he’d never known such tenderness.
She turned the water off and when she met his eyes they were red.
‘You ok?’
He just nodded silently, Her heart ached. She wished she could take his pain. All she could do was touch him, kiss him. Show him he was loved.
He watched her every move as she went and got a towel and wrapped it around him, the water beading on her skin. He sighed trying to rid himself of his melancholy and he followed her out of the shower.
They dried themselves off.
She threw a slip over her body and he tugged on some sweetpants.
‘There’s some of those brews from Thor in here..’
She smiled at him as she went to the fridge and poured herself a wine.
He nodded. He looked happy but always a little sad around the eyes. He often had that mix of looks on his face. She knew she needed to be extra gentle with him when he was like this. He made it easy through, he was just quiet.
He flopped on the couch and she placed his drink in front of him.
‘Sorry if I’m a bit…’
‘Never’ she interrupted.
‘Thanks for taking care of me’
she leaned over and kissed him softly. And then kissed his forehead.
‘I love you’ she said as she smoothed his long hair back.
‘I love you too.’ He said and caught her hand and kissed her fingertips. She loved that, he kissed her wrist.
‘Let’s get drunk and watch some crappy tv eh?’ she smiled and she got a little smile out of him. He lay down in her lap.
His face after a few drinks was a little flushed and his hair ruffled. It made her want to cling fast to him, to hold him, for there was a warm, drowsy sadness in his beauty that made her want to kiss him, clutch him, to have him close to her, under her wing.
‘Bucky’ she whispered.
He stiffened as she hardly ever called him that.
‘Are you feeling better?’
He sighed and burrowed into her thighs.
‘I went to a place I remembered as him, i got distracted and let my guard down. I hate remembering things he’s done. I … I just hate it’
He closed his eyes as he felt her fingers in his hair. Massaging his scalp
‘I’m sorry, my love.’
He sighed into her touch.
‘What do you need me to do?’
She said simply. ‘Just be you.’ He said.
‘I just want to feel you’ he said huskily. ‘ I want to feel’
Her body flushed.
He turned his head gently to hers and his eyes were half closed, his lips parted. God, he was so beautiful.
English is not my first language so sorry about mistakes.
I dunno- just had this in my brain so here you go. My first bit of writing, don’t really know what I’m doing.
—////
She saw the glint in his eyes as she walked into the kitchen, it was dark and only a solitary light in the hall illuminated his eyes.
He had been watching her since she arrived. He knew she was out of his league so to speak but there was something about the way she moved, the way she glanced at him that made his blood warm.
‘James’ she said and she saw his eyes widen in surprise.
‘What are you doing here in the dark, alone?’
‘I don’t sleep very well’ his voice was a bit husky from underuse. He was surprised she used his actual name.
She watched him for the other side of the counter. He was like a predator, waiting in the shadows.
She had noticed him all week since she got there.
Noticed how everyone avoided him, as if he were a danger, but she saw he seemed a little inward, sad.
He was a beautiful man, there was no doubt. The curve and colour of his lips made her wonder how they would feel. He often bit and licked his lips she’d noticed and she wondered if he knew it was so appealing. His long hair was often in his face, she guessed it had been a long time since someone had told him he didn’t need to hide behind it.
In short, she found herself wanting to know him.
‘I’ve heard about you, from others. You haven’t had it as easy as your friend..’
‘I guess not’
‘Can I sit with you a while’ her voice was soft and a little breathy, like she didn’t want to spook him.
‘Ok’ he watched her like a hawk.
‘It’s not good you’re here alone,’ she said gently, chiding him.
‘I’m not alone anymore’ his eyes darkened, she felt his eyes studying her face, incessant.
He felt an odd desire in the pit of his belly. A feeling he had not had for years. He didn’t know what it meant anymore. God she was beautiful. And she was right here.
So close. He cleared his throat.
‘Why are you up?, it’s late’
‘I couldn’t sleep either’
He leaned forward a bit just to drown himself in her dark eyes.
‘Kali right?’ He knew full well it was.
She nodded and she laughed softly.
‘What’s funny’
‘That we’re sitting in the dark’
He smiled and she was floored. That smile. She reached out and found his hand, it was rough, calloused , his eyes widened as he felt her warmth. His lips parted just slightly.
She saw his eyes half close, ‘do it’ she whispered.
He felt his heart stop. She knew he wanted to kiss her, he wanted to taste her. What was wrong with him. His senses were overwhelmed.
He leaned over and went to kiss her but they both stopped, just breathing each others breaths, millimetres apart. It was so intense, her eyes looked up to his and his were so dark, almost black, she let go his hand and he felt her fingers on his cheek and then he kissed her.
Her lips were so soft and as he gently tasted her with his tongue her hands moved to his neck, his soft, heavy hair.
He kissed her over and over, so soft, loving, it made her breath catch. She hasn’t been kissed like that in so long. She exhaled breathily and that was it for him. The fire in his belly had shot up his spine and now nothing would put it out.
He took her hand.
She lunged forward as they sat to kiss his lips, the corner of his mouth, as if she had to, she felt her body flush in response to his lips, his tongue. She wanted to be closer to him, this stranger, closer, closer. She wanted to press her lips to his throat, taste his skin. She wanted to touch him.
Her fingers over the back of his neck made him shiver and as he stood he took her with him.
He led her out, holding her hand and she followed him in the dark. She stopped and tugged his hand, he spun his head to look at her, his hair whipping his cheeks and he realised she wanted his mouth, he bent down and her hands went to round his shoulders as she bit his lip, tasted him again.
She felt that strong cold metal hand hold her around her lower back and she shivered.
‘I’m sorry’ he said quickly.
Her hands dropped from his shoulders and he felt them on his chest.
Don’t..’ she whispered. They just stared at each other for a moment, temporarily regaining their senses as they realised what they were doing.
‘What…’ he started.
‘You’re so beautiful’ she breathed in his ear as he kissed her neck. He stopped, and pulled back from her. She thought she saw the moisture in his eyes.
‘You are’ His hand went to her face, he touched her lips with his thumb and she opened her mouth and he dipped it inside her mouth.
He felt her tongue on it, soft, languid.
‘Fuck’ he exhaled and took her hand again and she was practically running to keep up with him.
He slammed the door behind him and she let out a cry of surprise as he picked her up and sat her down on the table. He stood in between her legs and she actually moaned. She didn’t know where the noise came from but realised it was her. His eyes blazed and as she wrapped her hands around his slim hips, she was lost to him, his mouth, his scent overwhelming her senses. She felt his hands under her dress, rough fingertips running up her thighs. ‘Lift up’ he commanded. Commanding her, a goddess, was insane but he didn’t care, he wanted her, he wanted to do things to her.
She did and her breath left her lungs as he pulled her knickers down in one movement.
She was panting just from the desire. Her skin covered in a flush of sweat.
He looked her straight in the eye and saw her mouth drop open as he licked his fingers.
He pulled her forward with that cold arm and reached between her legs where he found she was already wet, it made his cock strain against his pants. Wet, so wet, warm.
He touched her and he relished seeing her head drop back.
‘Oh f…fuck’ she stammered as he touched her, she had to lean back on her hands, he reached down and brought
His Lips to hers but did that thing where he didn’t kiss her but his lips were so close, she licked his lips and he just pressed his head against hers, touching her.
He pulled back and she suddenly felt his absence keenly in the pit of her belly. He sunk to his knees.
‘I want to taste you’ his voice dangerously low and thick with desire. She couldn’t speak as he pulled her thighs over his shoulders, she felt his lips on her inner thighs and her scent overwhelmed him, she jolted as she felt him kiss her sex, and his tongue dip into her.
She moaned as if she were in pain but it was exquisite torture.
His hot breath between her legs, his tongue hitting her exactly where she wanted, oh god, this man. Her eyes filled with tears. He felt her fingers clutch his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it and she wriggled, he pulled her ass forward and she felt his tongue delve inside her.
‘I want you inside me’ she stuttered out as she clutched his hair, not caring if it hurt him.
He hummed a wordless response against her sex that made her see stars.
She felt like she was going to scream.
She closed her eyes as she squeezed his shoulders with her thighs.
He felt the pressure of her thighs and thought this is how he wanted to die. He smiled to himself as he drank her into his mouth.
He ran his fingers down her thighs and pulled back, she felt a rush of her own wetness as she saw the glint of her slick on his face. He kissed her and she tasted herself.
He wiped his mouth with his bicep and she swooned.
‘Take it off’ he said, she liked it when he ordered her. She liked that in a man. No one did that to her. She would take anything from him, she knew it then. He saw her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were moist. He wanted to see her come undone in his arms, he wanted her with a fire he couldn’t explain.
She pulled her dress up and off and undid her bra, she sat there naked, he ran his fingers down her body, over her nipples, he palmed her breast with his warm hand and she heard his breathing quicken. His eyes dragging across her skin.
‘You’re so….’ he whispered and leaned forward , his hands on her thighs, he kissed her so softly, so tenderly it made her feel emotional. How is he doing this to her. His kisses were like he was pulling her soul out of her body. Intense, like he loved her.
He stood in front of her and she pulled on his clothes.
He understood, ‘I won’t hurt you’ he said and she turned her head, wondering why he’d said it.
He took his hoodie off and her hands went to his pants. Undoing his belt, unzipping his pants, she couldn’t wait and slipped her hand down his pants where she found he was wet with pre cum, and hard, his dick bobbed in her hand, straining. She took her hand out and he watched her as she licked her fingers wickedly.
Spurred on he ripped his clothes off and he saw her eyes drawn to the angry looking scars where his metal arm joined his body. ‘What happened?’ She said more to herself than to him.
For the first time she saw apprehension in his eyes, as if he were ashamed of it. Of himself.
His naked chest was muscled, smooth and he was tense and she ran her nails down it softly.
‘Hurry up’ she pleaded, ‘hurry’ she pulled him down again to taste him, to kiss away any fears.
‘I want you.’ She needed him to know.
He felt her heat and he could see and feel her desire. It had been a long time but his body responded without hesitation.
He kicked off his boots and she tugged his pants down which freed his straining cock. He had to step back to get rid of his pants and cursed the air between them.
She jumped off the table and pressed herself into him, knocking him back onto the floor, before he knew it she had sunk him deep inside her, straddling him, he had to put his hands back on the floor as she rode him and they were upright, pressed together. Her little breaths and moans were too much for him. He just sat there with her rocking on him. Her breasts flat on his chest. Her arms embracing him close.
What a dream is this he thought as he pulled her ass closer into him, he felt his cock hit the back of her and she squealed.
The fire in his spine was getting stronger,
He spun her round and knocked her onto her back, he stretched her legs up, holding each and thrust into her, ‘oh fuck, fuck me’ she kept repeating.
And he did, he forgot about her for a minute and just focused on how good he felt thrusting into her, the tension building. How good she felt around him.
They hadn’t even made it to a bed. He felt like he was gonna come already, he pulled out of her and she whined greedily. She ran her fingers down his body she kissed him, trying to coax him back to her.
He was so strong, he flipped her onto her front and lifted her body up and entered her again from behind. He heard her breath shake and stutter and he started to touch her. Now she couldn’t move except to lay back onto his chest, hold onto his arms for dear life and twist her head to kiss his panting open mouth. She reached up to feel his hair brush her forearms.
‘I want you to come around me’ he said into her ear.
‘Touch me,’ she whined and he touched her spot and felt her tense around his cock.
‘You feel like heaven’ she breathed. He stopped again, killing her, he knew it, he wanted to drive her as mad as she was driving him. He lay her on her side and faced her.he pulled her leg over hers in one movement and she loved how assertive he was. He had forgotten himself, he just wanted to fuck her every way, feel every part of her next to his body. Soft, warm, wet. Her fingers digging into him. Her tongue exploring his mouth. Her scent in his nostrils.
He entered her again and he held her as he pumped into her.
‘Fuck’ he breathed out.
‘Touch yourself’ he said, she moved closer to him and he felt her hand between them. ‘Uugghhh’ she let out.
‘I’m gonna come’ she said and she moved her hand to the small of his back, wet with sweat. She moaned as if she were hurt and licked his lips, bit them. Licked the salty sweat off his throat.
‘Oh…’ he felt her grip tighten on his hips and he felt her come, she shook and her thigh pulled him deep inside her, her own orgasm milked his cock and he came inside her, he felt like he kept coming. His spine exploding as he reached his climax.
Sweaty, messy, they both glued together. She didn’t want him to pull out of her.
‘Stay inside me..’ she breathed and he did, god he felt so good. She felt complete and they kissed, he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips.
She fell in love with him at that moment, as he tenderly kissed her forehead after he’d fucked her senseless.
Her eyes were lazy and she licked her lips.
‘James,’
‘Mm’ he murmured ‘no one has called me James for so long’ he kissed her, squeezing her sweaty body into his, his cock still inside her.
‘I want to go out with you’ she smiled and he actually laughed softly.
‘With me? No one wants to be seen with me’
‘I do’ she wrapped her smooth legs around him and without even thinking his hand went to her sex again, just to feel where his cock was in her. It made her flush.
‘I want… you to be mine’ she breathed.
‘I think I already am’
She rested her head against his, they touched lips. Not kissing but just close, almost too intimate for two people who had never met before this evening.
‘Stay with me tonight’ he whispered. Her fingers smelled like sex as she stroked his cheek.
She nodded and tucked herself under his chin. He pulled out of her and he saw her frown, he smiled gently.
‘You miss me?’ He teased her.
She nodded, she did, already she missed him inside her.
He picked her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck, ‘let’s get cleaned up’ he carried her into the shower and washed her body as the water rained down on them and then he took her to bed.
——-
They woke up in the morning. The first morning in along time he’d slept through, no nightmares, just sleep. She clung to him like a limpet. He kissed the top of her hair, and she roused, she felt his cock enter her and he made love to her, slow and sleepy and their fingers intertwined as they both came.
—-
Natasha walked out from the kitchen and stopped in her tracks as she saw them like teenagers, kissing in the hallway. He was so tall he engulfed her but she had hooked her leg over his calf. Hot and heavy for a hallway kiss Natasha thought.
‘No way’ she said smiling, and they both turned their heads to her.
‘I did not see this happening’ she said twirling her finger in a circle at them.
‘Good morning’ li gave her a shit eating grin.
‘Wow’ Natasha was nodding and Bucky just stood up to his full height, smoothing his hair back off his face just for it to fall forward again. Li straightened herself up and went to touch his waist gently.
‘There is fresh coffee on, lovers’ she smiled at them and for the first time saw a peace on Buckys face. Was it actual happiness?
—-
Steve’s mouth dropped a little bit as Bucky walked in to the kitchen, a little straighter than usual. Steve’s eyes went to the little one following him. The goddess, Thor’s friend. Kali.
He turned to her and she nodded in acceptance of a coffee. She smiled and Steve’s eyebrows raised as he actually saw a gentle smile cross Bucky’s usually impassive features.
‘Bucky?
‘Oh.. hey Steve. You uh.. you know Li, Thor’s .. uh.. friend’
‘Hi’ she said and she shyly hid behind Bucky, pressing into his side.
‘Oh..ok, we met earlier this week Buck,’ Steve said without thinking. ‘I didn’t think you two had met.’
‘We met last night’ bucky said and cleared his throat.
‘I bet you did a lot more than meet last night’ they turned to see Tony smirk his way into the conversation.
‘The old man still has some game eh?’
He looked down, not accustomed to the fuss. One arm on the counter, his coffee in his metal arm.
‘I didn’t think you had it in you Grandpa.’
‘Leave him alone Tony’ Steve chided.
‘Nice to hear that the elderly can still…’
‘Sshhh’ Steve said.
She looked up at him and he met her eyes. He didn’t care about his teasing as he saw the gentle look in her eyes.
Tony and Steve looked at each other.
‘I think it’s love’ Tony hit Steve’s elbow.
Steve was speechless. Steve hadn’t seen Bucky look so happy.. well.. ever.
Summary: Bucky Barnes does not like to be touched. He’s completely ready to live a distant life and give up when the time is right. Until Stark hires him his own personal pretty woman. Over time, Bucky Barnes begins to learn how to touch again. How to feel again. How to love himself again.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader
Trope(s): Holiday Fanfic ; Slow-Burn ; Friends to Lovers
Based on the Song(s): sweet nothing by Taylor Swift and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls
(14/14)
Mini-Series
Warnings: explicit language; reference to past SA; heartfelt confessions
Word Count: 2,000+
Author’s Note: Now, to be honest, I really hoped to make these chapters longer. But I wanted to published on Christmas Day and I haven’t had time to write all month. I truly hope I wrapped up this story well, and who knows? It could have epilogue next year or next month. I love you all. xxMoni
~
The day after Christmas was no better. Three times you had dressed and undressed, debating whether to leave your apartment and go speak with Bucky. You were both overthinking this and you were both in the wrong. Bucky shouldn’t have kept treating you like a flaky friend or kept his initial indecision a secret, and you shouldn’t have stormed away without hearing him out first.
You needed to see him. But your body wouldn’t let you get in your car and take matters into your own hands.
Plot: Something had been missing. But that has nothing to do with your life time enemy standing in front of you to finally end this.
Warnings: 18+. Smut and violence.
Words: 4,4OO
He remembers telling Steve and Sam about them – “Their most elite death squad. They speak thirty languages. Can hide in plain sight. Infiltrate, assassinate, destabilise. They can take a whole country down in one night. You’d never see them coming.”
…and you used to be one of them.
Bucky takes another look around the massive room, wincing when he sees all of his colleagues passed out around the room. It happened way too fast. How is he the only one still standing? They walked in here so confident, so prepared – he had done so much research on you. He knew everything.
His mind is running a million miles an hour to try process how you are still so calm after single-handedly taking out his entire team. So skilled, so graceful. Only one strand of hair had come loose to hang over your eyes.
It’s just you and him now. Again. Exactly how you ended up last time. And the time before that, long before he had a team to stand with him. You’re the only one who has had nearly all versions of James Buchanan Barnes as your opponent. Why the fight has never been settled before, neither you nor Bucky know …or let yourselves admit.
It is a thing of Bucky’s nightmares. The same one, over and over and over again. You are always in it and always have the winning hand. Never has he been able to figure out how to make the odds turn in his favour. This conniving, effortless and mean – mean – woman. This picture of a villain that heats his blood to a boiling point and makes his skin tighten with frustration. He’s had the dreams for years. For years, the image of you haunted him.
Though if he had to be honest, despite the endless losing battle, seeing you in his dreams was a welcome relief. You became a confusing token for him during these years of recovery. A constant – an image of beauty almost. Now here you are, again.
Bucky turns to you, his piercing eyes connecting with yours as you raise your brows in curiosity.
“Am I supposed to be scared of you?” he scoffs and you admire the way he sounds so cool. Like you haven’t just proven how easily you could beat him. Not that you’d make it quick or easy – not with him. What would be the fun in that?
You have spent years perfecting an attack on this man, knowing he’d return to you time and time again. Like fate wanted him in your claws. Your little plaything. All you can see is a challenge. For you, yes, but mostly for him. To break him, tear him to shreds. Perhaps, if the fates allow, for him to change his alliance. For him to finally embrace that inner darkness, find harmony and purpose with that Winter Soldier monster in his body.
A challenge indeed…
“Scared of me?” you drawl with an indifferent shrug of your shoulder, “No.” You never intended to scare him – of course, not until the next words fall from your lips. “I think you and I both know perfectly well there’s only one thing you in particular should be scared of,” you start, “a part of you that can hurt you beyond torture.” You can tell he has caught on when you see his jaw tick and his eyes harden. Your footsteps are slow and long as you approach the metal-armed soldier in the middle of the large hall of the worn castle you decided to reside in. “And don’t be mistaken, I don’t need ten pretty, Russian words to turn that side against you.” Silence before your final blow, “Your trauma will work just fine.”
That seems to be the trigger as he lunges forward, raising his hands and turning them to claws before you take a few steps back and halt him with a simple palm in the air.
“ –Careful,” you warn with deadly calm. “Every time you show people that short fuse of yours, you make it so easy for someone to grab onto it and light it on fire.” Short puffs of air leave his flaring nostrils and you purse your lips to repress the sadistic smile spreading over it. Until you realise you don’t care, letting the corners of your mouth tug upwards.
“Look at you,” you mock, “still depending on the control exercised on you for years. You have no idea how to take the reins yourself.”
“You don’t think I can exercise control?” The question is his way to take back his power, having had quite enough of you pressing where it hurts. His voice is clear, sharp, the gravel in it completely gone.
Bucky’s face, to your disappointment and his credit, remains stoic and you have no idea how lucky you are he has learned to restrain himself even just slightly, because you don’t know how dangerous Bucky becomes when he is genuinely pissed. Sure, he’s grumpy and harsh all the time and you’ve seen him channel Hydra’s fury, but hardly ever does his own rage come out to play.
“A smart and well-trained assassin doesn’t dive at his target like that. Any chance you’re still as good as the Winter Soldier without Hydra telling you what to do?” A small part inside you is warning you to back off, to not test the dangerous man any further. Just because you know exactly how to push the Bucky Barnes past his limit, doesn’t mean you should.
“The Winter Soldier was created to kill. I can do much more damage.”
“Let me ask you an important question,” he starts, his voice awfully cool and steady, “what on Earth makes you think I need to control myself when I can so easily control you instead?”
And now you know where that voice, the confidence, comes from. You clench your jaw tightly when the heel of your right foot dips down in the open grove between the floor and the heightened platform. A grove that has crumbled down into the depths of the ancient building, where you know the dungeons are. So far down with so much debris at the bottom, one wrong step and the fall would instantly kill you. Even as you are – a super soldier just like Bucky, yet chosen different paths – you won’t survive that fall and Bucky knows it.
You should have known not to pick this location to hide in – shouldn’t have picked the ruin you passed in the way through the mountains. Bucky guided your arrogant self straight into a trap what he assumed is of your own making. The bastard was always manipulative enough to get people to fall into the grave they dug themselves. So pretty, so skilled and somehow… so, so clever.
Sure, you could be impulsive at times, but it isn’t like Bucky is giving you any other choice than to whip out the nearest blade and charge at him. Smirk on his face, Bucky settles into fighting mode and opens his stance to welcome you in. Not giving him any time to realise that he had you fair and square, you summon decades of training into your limbs. Your head goes quiet, eerily still, as muscle memory takes over and your feet and elbows and hands crack into every open spot that Bucky has.
Quakes of pain hit you at every defence he puts up, but you soothe it over with your next blow. Hit after kick after punch, you work Bucky back into the main hall, away from your previous battlefield and trying not to lose all that space you fought for.
Hesitate and you die. Hesitate and you die. The mantra keeps repeating in your empty head and you scream and grunt and yell with every powerful thrust of your fists, only for all of it to be blocked by Bucky. There is more than anger coming to the surface. This rage – this ancient rage at yourself, at the world, at Hydra–
Bucky doesn’t get any time to retaliate, but you know better than to think you can exhaust him with fighting techniques he has memorised himself. So you switch to the sharp end of the blade and you twist and turn it within your hand as you jab and stab for the soft bits of skin on his body.
Your bones shudder when the knife jams between the plates of his arm and Bucky’s hand flies to take the knife during the abrupt pause your body found itself in. But you’re nearly as strong as he is and definitely faster, so you twist the knife with Bucky’s own power to angle against his chest and jam it there.
The blade tugs at the fabric of his shirt and Bucky’s eyes harden as they fall on yours. You narrow your own eyes at him and grit your teeth as you put pressure behind the stabbing instrument. Your gaze lowers to your hands.
His hand is wrapped around yours almost in a gentle way, the length of his fingers curling around your fist which is clutched around the handle of the blade. The touch makes you shiver and you focus all your attention on staying rigid and exercising enough power to remain in your current position. Both your breaths are shallow and the stare you’re exchanging is so sharp, you’re sure you can see a bolt of electricity shoot from your irises to his.
Slowly dragging your hand down half an inch, he wraps his other hand around yours as well, two of his hands now securing the blade against his own chest. You try not to let it show how much his actions confuse you, apprehension burning in your stomach. His flesh hand is warm, radiating heat from his skin to yours, callouses scraping slightly.
“Right here. Through the ribs and into my heart.” His voice is soft and calm, coaxing a paradoxical reaction from you. It makes you want to prove to him he has no reason to be this calm, but his tone calms you down all the same. He trusts you enough to hold a blade to his chest, yet has no faith in you to drive it through his ribs.
Always these games…
Bucky hisses through his teeth, "Kill me then. I fucking dare you." Though his tone is just as calm and quiet as before, private almost, there’s an impatience to his voice. Like he wants you to put him out of his misery.
“Got something to run from?” You purr with a sympathetic head tilt, eyes still narrowed in on his. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip.
“On the contrary. I have all the time in the world,” he whispers and you notice his head moving closer just an inch, his scent making your eyes flutter. He didn’t seem like the type to smell exceptionally good – but boy, were you wrong.
“Should I make it a slow death then?” you taunt and he smirks.
“Whatever makes you feel the most power.” Damn him. He knows those words strip the power away from you in an instant. He knows it and he knows you know it, too. “But that leaves you with none, doesn’t it?”
You hold your breath to keep your defeat from slipping out with it. Eyes on the blade in your hands with a look as sharp as the dagger itself, you tighten your fists around the handle.
And all of a sudden it dawns on you. Fear. Gut-wrenching, horrifying fear. Not of Bucky. But losing him. The consequences of allowing yourself to plunge that knife into his body. It’s ridiculous, really. You barely know him. Yet–
Yet he is the only one like you. The only one with emotions and personality traits abnormally heightened like your own, with that goddamn serum tainting his DNA. The only other person in constant battle with themselves between good and evil. Good won in him. Evil won in you. Because the world is so awful, so endlessly painful. And Bucky knew that – had been a victim of that awful nature. Yet good won.
He’s good.
And you want to jam a knife between his ribs.
So you do the one thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t do if you were ever in this position, because it would make you lose your resolve: you look up into his eyes.
Grey-blue. You remember, from all those times staring him down and trying not to think of their colour. That beautiful, innocent colour that you knew he could flatten with just a look, a drop of his brow. All brightness and light gone and eyes empty. But it is there now. You don’t get where the light comes from that shimmers in his eyes. It’s a dark room.
“Why are you hesitating?” he asks, his voice merely a whisper. You never heard him sound like this before.
“I’m not.”
“I could have killed you five times over by now,” he reminds you, his hands twisting around yours, showing you just how easily he could redirect the knife’s target.
“You won’t.”
“I won’t?”
“You won’t,” you breathe.
A pause.
“I won’t,” he breathes back, his eyes dropping down. You swallow and the room seems to shrink, so much so, you hear your heartbeat echoing around you.
You don’t get to release the air lodged into your throat as Bucky lunges again, this time to cover your lips with his own. You hadn’t realised that your grip on the knife was completely depending on Bucky’s hands, until the weapon clatters to the floor the second his hands grab your face to drag it up to his.
You want to enjoy the feeling of his lips, but the rush you feel and your ramming pulse make you feel impossibly dizzy. His tongue taking advantage of the gasp you let out, makes you dizzier and you let out a whine. He groans back, walking you backward in an attempt to get closer to you. This large, solid man pushing and pushing and pushing as he strips all your bodily control from you with his bruising kiss.
You think you’re kissing him back, you aren’t sure, but every step he takes forward, you flee backward. Step after step, you refuse to close the distance, his mouth so wild and feral against yours. Until you gasp again, your back hitting a crumbling pillar and Bucky crushed his entire frame against yours, his nails digging into your scalp as the kiss deepens.
Then it hits you. And it overwhelms you now, your hands clawing at his chest, his shoulders, his neck – closer, closer, closer. God, he tastes like fire and stone and that ancient fight. You moan desperately and he grinds his hips into yours, making your knees nearly buckle over from the pleasure it ignites between your thighs. You need more of that, of his arousal against your own.
Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you realise that this was your fight all along. This was the very thing you needed to settle. A compatibility no one can match. And you want to tell him that, mock him for it when his lips leave yours, but they attach themselves to that spot below your ear and your eyes roll to the back of your head with a low moan.
This man…
“Who would have known,” he grumbles against your skin, accentuating his words with the scrape of his teeth, barely making you able to register them, “those moans might be the thing that actually kills me.”
You almost want to laugh, but he’s right. If your moans kill him, his mouth will kill you. Your heart is beating so loud, so hard, the organ might give out entirely. Your fingers hurt from clutching onto him and you can’t feel your legs. All he’s done is kiss your neck. His grip on you is so tight, so full of frustration and passion–
“Bucky,” you rasp and he freezes.
His forehead drops to your shoulder. “You’ve never said my name before,” he grits, his voice rough. “Do it again.”
“Bucky.”
“Again.”
“Bucky.”
His head lifts from your shoulder, his hands still holding your face and his eyes connecting with yours, “I am not going to stop until you have no voice left to say it with.”
He isn’t asking for permission. Not at all. This was a warning – for you to prepare, to finally settle this. You cling to that last piece, that last little shred of dignity and defiance.
“Who says we won’t leave this battle unfinished like the other ones?” you ask, albeit breathlessly, clinging to that mechanism that keeps him away and angry.
Bucky narrows his eyes, dragging them over each of your features in a slow, deliberate swoop. You feel like your skin might peel off if he looks at you any longer. He can see it, can see the facade. The grip on your face is tight and you try not to swallow away the dryness in your throat.
Then he smiles.
“Nice try,” he nearly whispers, “but now that we’re here, I’m not planning on any unfinished business with you.”
This time you do swallow, eyes fluttering as you look up at him. You try to snap your walls back up, push him away, but your body isn’t listening. It’s whining for him, crying out for that spark. That final puzzle piece. The one man that can handle you. The only one that is still standing there at the end.
You feel it shift – your alliance.
“Shut up,” you rasp and crash your mouth to his, fingers clutching to his shirt.
He laughs against your lips and his hands slide around your waist now, dragging you closer and conveniently dragging you up so one of his thighs slots between yours. The touch of his firm muscle against your throbbing core makes your knees buckle and you would melt to the floor if it isn’t for Bucky’s hold on you.
The shuddering breath you let out has Bucky knowing enough though. He never saw this coming, never even considered this. But he felt the shift – he was sure it was your scent that made his body betray him. Somewhere, his mind was screaming at him to not be stupid and drag that fucking knife away from his heart. Yet his intuition, trained for decades and somehow sharper than ever today, had muffled that scared voice and told him to trust his gut. She isn’t going to do it. And it was right. Just like he wouldn’t have done it.
And now – this powerful, deadly, untouchable woman is in his arms. So pliant, so desperate, so needy. He couldn’t feel more powerful himself. Not a serum in the world, not a stronger metal for his arm could grant him the feeling of power he has now. With you on his side, he is unstoppable. You could make him do anything.
He has something else in mind, however. He wants to show you exactly what anything entails, how much he is actually willing to do for you. And the strangled moan against his hungry mouth when he drags your hips over his thigh again, settles it for him. There is nothing like the pride and hunger that rushes through his veins when he hears that noise. Maybe one thing. When you say his name.
“Bucky.”
Fuck.
Digging his fingers into your body so hard, he’s sure he is leaving temporary bruises – Good, you’re his now – he lets out an animalistic growl against you and gives a hard thrust against you. Your body moulds perfectly between him and the pillar. The answering grind of your hips against him, brushing his cock so nicely, has his heart coming to a stop. The kiss is messy now, tongues and teeth and bruised lips, he doesn’t know what to do with that endless, dreadful need. Both your breaths are uncontrolled and low noises of need slip from both of you. He doesn’t know where his body ends and yours begins, so entangled with each other as he mindlessly grinds you further into the crumbling stone.
“I swear to God, if you don’t take off your clothes soon,” your growl surprises him and he lets out a low laugh at the desperate command. The only reason he doesn’t mock you for it, is because he agrees. Why are his clothes still on?
Quickly setting you down, he starts making work of his clothes, both of you ripping at yourselves to get rid of that last barrier. But Bucky gets distracted and helps you undress instead. And when you’re left in just your underwear and a lose hanging shirt that sags over your shoulders, all Bucky has managed is to shed his weapons and to unbuckle his belt. Earning an unimpressed glare from you at the lack of nudity, Bucky lets out a growl in answer.
“I’ll fuck you slowly later,” he grunts and is on you again.
You want to protest, you really do, but the words escape you the second his lips connect with yours again. Oh, this man is trouble. Softer and languid this time, his mouth drags over yours, tongue taunting and tasting. You slacken against him, your fingers around his forearms to keep from slipping to the ground. Trouble, trouble, trouble.
In such a daze, such a trance from that sinful mouth, you hardly notice his hands slipping between your thighs after his leg pushes them apart. That first touch, so deliberate, so specific, of his fingers to your aching pussy, has you visibly shudder against him, nails digging into his skin.
“I was wrong,” he breathes over your lips. His fingers slip past the flimsy fabric of your panties and a long finger slips through your folds, dipping into your hole tentatively before teasing you further. “This is going to be the thing that kills me.”
And with that painful confession, his finger slips into your dripping hole so easily, so smoothly, so goddamn deep, you lift to your toes and stretch to make it bearable. It’s unbearable, the pleasure that sparks all throughout your body. You need him to move, need him to– to–
“More,” you plead, unable to open your eyes back up, “more, more, more.”
You can almost hear his cocky grin as he slips another finger in and curls it against a spot deep inside of you. It releases a moan so sudden, you couldn’t have stopped it if you tried, your eyes flying open. Bucky’s brows shoot up with intrigue, pressing his fingertips against that spot again and almost making you curl up into a ball against him. Fuck. He’s going to kill you.
“Shh, sweetheart,” he breathes, his forehead falling to yours after watching that look of defeat on your face, “I got you.”
Thoughts having left your head, you can only nod breathlessly, tilting your head back against the stone as his fingers start working inside of you. The involuntary convulsions of your cunt around his fingers make your neck and cheeks warm, the loss of control making you feel beyond vulnerable. But God, you can’t find it in you to care too much. The way he stuffs you full, the way his mouth works messily against the column of your neck, the heavy breaths that come from him from just pleasing you – it all builds up in your abdomen. Tightening, fluttering, aching. Your toes curl as his fingers move faster, the friction against your entrance so filthy in combination with the sound of your wetness.
Bucky groans, impatience straining through his cock as he wants to feel you around his fingers. He can feel you flutter, he can hear your breathing getting impossibly laboured and he should, he really should, want to drag this out more. But there is this wild, primal part of him that wants to get you to your next orgasm already, and your next, and the one after that.
He sighs deeply, channelling all of his restraint to keep calm and savour this moment. This moment of weakness for you. Weakness within him. Fuck, you’re his weakness. His fingers keep moving into that spot that seems to make you stutter and stumble, his wrist turning to make you feel that stretch, his tongue darting out to touch that spot under your ear. And then, he presses his palm to your clit, thrumming with need, and the shudder that rumbles down your spine has him stand on alert instantly.
Rotating his palm against your clit, his fingers ramming into your spot, he watches in awe as you fall apart around them. The way your eyes roll back, the breathless scream from your lips, the tension building and building and building in your body before weakening to near paralysis. Oh, that does things for Bucky’s ego.
Fingers trembling and bottom lip aching from the assault of your own teeth, you try desperately to get some air back into your lungs. You can’t feel your legs, your head is buzzing and your pussy won’t stop contracting around Bucky’s fingers, even as they have stopped moving.
“Oh my God,” you whine softly, eyes still closed.
“Mhm,” Bucky hums, burying his face in your neck. That was the best thing he’s ever done. Screw making amends, screw being good, this made it all worth it. He doesn’t know why or how, but this makes that neglected part inside of him hum with delight.
But he’s not done. Oh no, not with his cock groaning at him to explore you a bit further. Not with only his zipper in the way of that warmth that is still wrapped around his fingers. Fuck, how good would his fingers taste right about now?
He’s not waiting to find out and then his eyes lock with yours, darkness and light shimmering in them simultaneously. They flutter to close at the taste, at the way you bite your lip as the sight, but he is not losing you out of his sights.
“Winter soldier,” you breathe, a calm sort of power tainting your tone.
summary: The agents at SHIELD have not taken well to Bucky’s pardon. When he’s injured on a mission under suspicious circumstances, you take matters into your own hands.
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
word count: 7.7k
warnings: canon level violence, bucky’s internalized self-punishing issues, shield agents being real pieces of shit, badass reader who would defend bucky to the death
a/n: I know I’ve been really inactive lately (life’s actually been going well so I’ve been busier but that leaves me less time to write unfortunately), but I’m still lurking here! This is a fic I wrote several months ago but finally got around to editing it. Hope you enjoy!
Bucky wasn’t sure how you managed it – the punch to his gut every time you walked in the room. You were dressed in your tactical suit; black fabric draped over every inch of your body, protective layers of Kevlar and technology beyond Bucky’s years, a weapon strapped to your thigh and knives hidden in your belt and at your ankle. Your hair was tugged out of place, sweat beaded on your temple from the sparring match in the gym moments before the two of you were called to service. In your right hand, you carried your combat boots, the laces hanging low enough to touch the ground.
And still, Bucky held his breath as you approached. Stomach in knots, chest tightening until his heart threatened to stop entirely.
“My offer is fifty this time,” you announced, winking in his direction before you turned to head for the landing bay. “Take it or leave it, Barnes.”
Summary: You were the ray of light at the end of the dark tunnel that was Bucky’s life. The warmth on his winter days. The only sense of normalcy he had. And maybe that was his downfall.
Word Count: 2.8k
Warnings: Angsty
A/N: Hey! This is for @captain-ariel-barnes‘s 4K Writing Challenge! The prompt I chose to write for is “Please.” Thank you to her for giving me this opportunity! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! :)
Reader is pregnant with Bucky’s child and she hasn’t told him yet. Reader must go on an undercover mission and it goes horribly wrong.
2. Hello and Goodbye, by @sweetascanbee ✨
Bucky x Adopted Wilson!Reader
You are Sam's adopted little sister, and he brings home a mysterious friend.
3. Three Shades of a Man by @bitsandbobsandstuff
Bucky x Reader
It was different every time, what Bucky needed from you to survive himself. It was in these moments you saw the shades behind the mask he wore in front of the world.
4. Save Me From Myself by @captain-rogers-beard
Bucky x Reader
You are being hunted by HYDRA and Bucky has been tasked with keeping you safe. Problem is, the two of you have a history.
5. Quiet by @nastybuckybarnes
Bucky x Reader
Steve Rogers makes an accidental discovery while on a simple hydra base raid. You. He brings you back to the Avengers Tower where they all try to figure you out. Your… interesting way of communicating makes that especially hard. Until one super-soldier proves otherwise.
6. Deepest Desires by @captain-rogers-beard
Bucky x Reader
A series of sexual escapades where Bucky shows you what it’s like to give in to your deepest desires.
7. The Proposal by @captain-rogers-beard
Bucky x Reader Modern AU
Bucky Barnes world is turned upside down after he agrees to marry his boss, a woman he despises.
8. The Playlist by @bolontiku
Bucky x Mutant!Reader
being new to the Avengers you can’t help but screw with Bucky’s playlist.
9. Dreaming of Better Days by @wizardofrozz ✨
40s!Bucky x Reader
Steve always manages to find a fight no matter where he goes and Bucky is always ready to defend his best friend, until one day someone beats him to it. Bucky isn’t prepared to find you standing up for his best friend and he definitely wasn’t prepared to be so swept up by you. But most of all, he didn’t expect you to have such an important place in his future.
9-2. Echos of the Past by @wizardofrozz
Bucky x Super Soldier!Reader
Bucky’s gone again, leaving you and Steve to regroup. Finding Bucky seems impossible, and the relentless memories don’t make things easier. One thing that scares you the most is who you might find when you’re reunited after 70 years. Has Hydra destroyed you and Bucky beyond repair?
10. Grease Lightning by @language-rxgers ✨
Bucky x Reader High School AU
You’re on the hair & makeup team for your school’s production of Grease, and Nat has signed you up to do the makeup for the lead role of Danny Zuko- played by none other than Bucky Barnes.
11. Best Boyfriend You’ve Never Had by @language-rxgers
Bucky x Reader
When you find out your sister is getting married and expects you to bring a date to her wedding in two months, you panic, having not gone on so much as a coffee date with a guy in far too long. After all, being an Avenger doesn’t leave too much time for a life outside of work. So, when your best friend, none other than the James Buchanan Barnes himself, offers to pretend to be your boyfriend and plus one, how can you refuse? It seems like something that would come out of a movie. However, real life is never like the movies, and stories like this never go as planned.
