Да, солдат
Winter Soldier/Bucky X Fem!Reader
Warnings. Stockholm syndrome esque, noncon, rough sex, degradation, innocence kink, loss of virginity, age gap, blood, size kink, slapping, bruises, sexism, concussion, throat fucking, housewife in the (forceful) making, etc
♱
It had to have been a few days since this man had captured you. He wasted no time in picking you up off the street, offering you a ride home. In your drunken stupor—blackout stupor, actually—you giggled while agreeing. You hopped in his passenger seat with a smile as big as Texas. One that was quickly wiped away when he grabbed the back of your head and slammed you into the dashboard.
Your mind went hazy. Blood spilled from your nose in great bouts while you sobbed, clutching your nose. You tried shaking the door open, but it was locked & he was already speeding away from the house you stood outside of. No doubt a frat house filled with an incessant amount of hormonal college boys & girls drunk off of whatever substance they could get their hands on.
Now... however many days later you were sat across from him at a small dining table. The only sound was your leg bouncing up and down against the wood floor. You refused to eat the soup he made. It smelled and looked delicious. Your stomach growled for you to eat some, but you refused.
You could tell he was growing annoyed with your one man food strike. He stared you down from across the table, not bothering to look away as he spooned food into his awaiting mouth. "Ешь."
Your eyes darted up for a moment, brows drawing inward at the foreign language.
He mumbled something else in Russian, incoherent. "Eat."
You shook your head. "My... stomach hurts." It's half true. Your stomach does hurt. But it hurts because you haven't eaten & you know that giving into him would make it go away.
"You need to eat."
"Why are you," you look into his eyes, feeling burned from his icy blue irises. "Why are you keeping me here? I have homework, classes, so many things to do. I'm—I'm gonna fail." Your mind reels. This is the most you have said in days. "My family will be worried."
"You're going to help me." He ignores your other complaints easily, but makes sure to at least answer your question
You rack your mind, thinking of how exactly you will be able to help him. "With what?" You raise your voice slightly. "You—you broke my nose and you want my help?"
"Your nose is fine."
"It doesn't feel fine."
He slams his fist down on the table and you flinch, recoiling into your seat. You want to apologize, but you're too afraid to speak. "Eat, now."
You obey, recalling the throbbing of your nose that has just recently begun to fade. You spoon some of the soup into your mouth hesitantly. Your mouth doesn't salivate, though. Perhaps your body is in too much shock—a constant state of fight or flight. "Хорошая девочка." He mutters, watching to make sure you swallow it.
You're able to bear a few more spoonfuls before your stomach is hurting for real. Screaming that it's too much. You silently pray that it's enough for him to be satisfied.
You bring your knees to your chest to signify that you're done and he glares at you in response. Though, you can't tell if this is his natural disposition or if he's truly mad.
"You're done?"
You don't answer verbally, just nod meekly.
He takes the bowl and begins eating the rest of it, seeing as his was gone. You watch as he scarfs down the rest, lip slightly curled in disgust.
How could he eat as if this was normal? How many other girls has he done this to for him to grow so indifferent?
"How..." you begin, taking a deep breath in fear of his reaction. "How old are you?"
"Old enough to be your grandfather." He thinks on it for a moment, doing mental math.
"I—that's... you don't look it."
"I am."
You don't speak further, just accept his answer meekly. You don't feel like sparking any issues with him.
"What year of college are," he stops momentarily, smirking to himself as he takes another spoonful of soup. "What year of college were you in?"
Your eyes are cast downward and you don't catch on to his insinuation. "My first year."
Pretty girls don't need college, he thinks. I saved her.
"Clean this up. I'll be back later." He shoves the bowls toward you and stands up. He looks down at you, taking note of just how small you were. You look dwarfed like this—knees curled to your chest, arms wrapped around your shins as you stare up at him.
He wants to ravish you; he has a meeting, though.
He steps forward and takes your jaw in his hand. He squeezes your cheeks together, slightly smiling when you whimper and try to wiggle out of his hold. He fully smiles when you stop, though. When he sees the moment your eyes register that you can't fight back. That he's much too strong.
He holds you there until you reach up and grab his wrist with both of your hands, eyes bleary as they gaze into his. He imagines it's his cock between both of your hands instead and he mentally sighs.
You tug lightly at his arm, eyes silently begging for him to ease up. He squeezes you extra hard for a moment before letting go, snatching his arm away and heading for the front door. He grabs his keys and jacket from the coat rack and leaves.
You massage your jaw and cheeks for a moment, allowing one tear to fall before you stood up. You glared at the dishes, the leftover soup, the utensils, and the cutting board strewn about the kitchen. You'd cleaned up after him for the past however many days you've been locked in here. You cross your arms and storm upstairs to the room you've been sleeping in.
You laid down in the all-too-big bed and tried to find sleep. It wasn't hard to sleep when it's all you did. It has become second nature for you to just close your eyes and drift away, so that's you did.
♱
It wasn't until... hours? Minutes? Seconds? Later that he returned home. He who had not bothered telling you his name—given, you never really asked him. Still.
You heard the door slam closed and you could practically feel the vibrations that were sent through the house from his heavy boots slamming down with each step.
All of a sudden, that headstrong confidence you had was fading away. And quick. You almost rushed downstairs in hopes he hadn't been in the kitchen yet, but fear paralyzed you. When you heard those boots slamming up the stairs, you wished you could disappear.
You pretend to be asleep instead of trying magic.
He swings open the door, letting it slam against the wall. You try not to flinch or let your breath hitch, but both inevitably happen. You hope he can't see your face in the dim light because you don't look like sleeping beauty. No, your eyes are screwed shut and your bottom lip is being gnawed on.
"You're not asleep."
You stay still and stiff, hoping that he's bluffing. He is not. "I asked you to do one thing."
You simper when he steps closer, knowing that the gig is up.
He yanks you toward him by your ankle, rolling his eyes when you try to grab at the pillows. He slaps your panty-clad ass, making you cry out in pain. You try kicking at him with your other leg, but he catches it. "If you try that again, I'll fuckin' knock you out." And he meant it. Though, he really didn't want to do that—he wanted you fully alert as he fucked you for the first time.
"M'sorry," you whine, still squirming.
"Yeah?" He asks. You nod fervently, looking over your shoulder to meet his eyes & show you're earnest. He cracks his hand down again and watches as your face morphs into pain and a broken sob escapes your parted lips. "I've been doing so much for you. All I asked was for you to clean up. Haven't even fucked you, yet. Was gonna wait... make it special for you." He's lying about waiting, but he wanted your mistake to resonate with you.
Your mind snaps back to reality and your heart drops at that. "No—no, please. Please, no." You are a sobbing mess at this point as you try to crawl away from him. He lets go of you, smirking as you crawl toward the headboard. You sit at the topmost corner of the bed, knees brought to your chest. "M'sorry. Please. Please don't. I'll—I'll clean now." You sniffle, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.
He mockingly frowns and nods, just subtle enough for you to believe his sympathy. "You will. After I'm done."
He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his rippling abdomen & huge arms. When your eyes adjust a bit further you realize one of his arms is some sort of metal?
No... it couldn't be. Your eyes had to have been playing tricks on you because The Winter Soldier was a myth.
You hug your knees closer to your chest in hopes that you might shrink.
He wastes no time in kicking off his shoes, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, and tugging down with his boxers. You watch in utter fear as he does so. Your mouth lolls open like a fish out of water when you see his dick.
You had yet to see one in person, but from what your friends had shown you, this was surely a surprise. The unsolicited pictures that guys sent your friends did not compare to what was now in front of you.
His tip angrily leaked precum & it slapped against his abdomen when it sprung free. As if he had been anticipating this.
"Come here," he beckoned for you to come sit in front of him. He still stood in the same spot—the foot of the bed. You didn't move. "Come here and I'll go easy on you." Another lie.
Your mind wills your body to lurch forward. You crawl towards him and end up sitting on your ankles, looking up at him wearily. You refused to look down. "Хорошая девочка," he brings his hand to your face, caressing it softly. You careen into his touch, feeling hopeful that he truly will go easy. It happens so fast. His hand left your face & you barley register its absence before his hand is cracking down on your face.
Your face whips to the side and you gasp, scared to move. He grabs your jaw like he did earlier, but twice as hard. You try to shake from his grasp and he lets you try. He's craving that look of defeat in your eyes & when you finally deliver it, he's yanking you to the floor by your biceps.
You simper when he manhandles to your feet. When you're stood before him, looking up at him through waterlogged lashes, he shoves you down to your knees. You grab at his thighs on your way down, but you still fall ungraciously to your knees and whimper at the feeling.
You could already tell where this was going and it made your stomach hurl.
Although you've heard of many sexual endeavors that your friends have experienced, you've never had the heart to partake in them yourself. You've always envisioned yourself waiting for marriage—or at least a guy you could see yourself marrying. Sex wasn't just some thing to you.
But here you were, face to face with a man's dick. A man's dick who seemed abnormally... large. All of your friends stories all ended in dissatisfaction & complaints of the size of their partners, but this surely couldn't have been what they were disappointed with... right?
You choose to continue looking into his eyes instead of his heavy cock.
"Open up," he grabs ahold of his dick and lines it up your sealed lips. You shake your head, crying while trying your best to breathe through your nose to not give him an opening. He chuckles darkly and uses his metal hand to slap you instead of his flesh.
You cry out as your body swings to the side, ribs slamming into the bedpost. You try and grab at the mattress to pull yourself up, but your vision gets spotty when you try and stand, leaving you to fall directly on your ass.
"Aww, Малышка," he coos mockingly. He leans down and grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging it at the roots until you're situated on your knees again. You're full on open-mouth sobbing at this point, blabbering out how much your side hurts and how your ears are ringing.
He shoves your head down and you blubber around his dick. It isn't until he's shoved you a bit less than halfway down that your garbled complaints turn into visceral gags. He watches as your eyes roll back and your cheeks blow out into a bubble around his dick before contracting again.
Your teeth scraping against his sensitive cock makes him wince and he pulls you off of him. You take deep breaths, chest heaving. "Please, I—I'll clean the," you take a moment for some more air. "I'll clean the whole house." You look up at him, eyes hopeful and bleary.
"Watch your fuckin' teeth, Сука." He spits the words out before bringing your face to his dick again. "Say 'ahh.'"
You glare at him, feeling resentment burn in your gut at his jokes. You furrow your brows as you barley open your mouth. He shoves your head down anyway, groaning at the warm comfort.
"If I feel your teeth again, I'll knock them out of your mouth." Although it's an empty threat—he loves your teeth, he has loved them since he saw you drunkenly giggling and blabbering in his passenger seat—you're dumb enough to believe him. He can feel you sob around his cock and his hips thrust forward unintentionally, making you gag.
You make futile attempts to escape by pushing at his thighs.
It only spurs him on more & he begins to rock his hips back and forth. Even if he were to slowly adjust you to his dick, it wouldn't matter. It would hurt all the same. It would make you gag all the same. It would make tears stream down in fat globs all the same. It would make you hate him all the same. It would make you wish you'd just cleaned up all the same.
So, instead of being a gentleman, he fucks your face brutally.
"M'sorry," you splutter around his dick.
"Bet you are," he barley acknowledges your apology. His hips are too busy chasing after his much needed high.
He'd had you for exactly five days and he had yet to defile you in any way, yet. That was kind of him. This was his reward. This was also what you deserved after blatantly ignoring him.
He can feel that feeling creeping up on him and he stills in your throat, holding your head down as you gag and punch at his thighs. He keeps you there, nose taking shallow, quick breaths against his pelvis. He waits until those breaths slow down, until he's sure that you'll pass out.
He watches your eyes meet his, dazed and confused & silently begging him to let up. Right before they roll back & you go limp, he yanks you back.
You whimper. "Are you going," you hiccup, wiping your snot and tears messily on to your hand. "Are you gonna kill... me?"
Your eyes dart to his metal arm and he notices it. His smile doesn't falter. In fact, it increases.
You sniffle and he chuckles shortly. "What good are you dead?"
"You won't kill me?"
He doesn't answer. He doesn't feel like giving you that comfort any further. His answer should suffice for now. He only shrugs and grabs your clothed waist. He hoists you to your feet and lets go, hoping you'll lose your balance. You do.
You grab at his forearms and fall into his naked abdomen. You'd never felt so disoriented, scared, dizzy, and small in your entire life. It was scary. It was fucking mortifying, actually.
He pushes you against the bed and you scramble to sit on it, trying to get far away from him. You don't get very far before he's tugging down your white panties. You sob, moving your hands to hide your pussy. He tears your arms away from yourself & yanks your tank top over your head.
He doesn't entertain your hysterics. He doesn't even spend long ogling at your perfect body. He throws you on to the bed and quickly clambers on top of you. He violently shoves apart your legs and situates his hips between your thighs, making you sob tenfold. "No, no," your head is spinning and you feel faint. "I'm so... dizzy."
Fuck. Did he give you a concussion?
"You're fuckin' fine." He hopes you are at least. Then again, a concussion would make you more docile.
"Please," you beg, looking in his eyes. He's rubbing the tip of his soaked dick along your otherwise dry pussy. You were too scared to even think about pleasure. He stops momentarily, eyes narrowing at you. "I—I've never done this."
His eyes relaxed as his eyebrows furrowed, utterly confused. He wouldn't have guessed in a million years that you were a virgin. "I'll see about that." With that, he aligned himself and thrust forward.
If it weren't for the blood curdling scream followed by a deep breath & then nothing, he might've not believed you. With only a little more than his tip lodged inside of you, you had passed out. He laughed to himself & debated on using your pliant body or making an effort to wake you up.
Ultimately, he went for the latter. He grabbed your jaw, squeezing tightly and shaking your head side to side. It was limp & your eyes didn't even flutter at his ministrations. He was cautious to slap you around anymore, but there was nothing else he could do to wake you.
When he slapped you, you didn't stir, though. It was until he hit you for the third time that you jolted awake, gasping and groaning. "F—fuck, stop!" You kicked at his back & hips, trying to push him off, but nothing was working. Your shrill cries meant nothing to him.
"Hurts. It hu—rts so bad," you are hiccuping and sobbing. Practically after each word that is spoken. You whine and he groans, basking in the warmth of your tight pussy. Your tight pussy that was barley letting him move forward.
He pulls out completely before slamming back in, successfully making it halfway in. You cry more, as expected. Your breaths are choppy and often interrupted by sobs and cries as he begins rocking in and out. "Why—why me?" Your eyes find his, scared and bleary.
His eyes are cold and stern, piercing your soul.
"Замолчи, Замолчи." He demands, tired of your complaining. He wants to hear one thing & one thing alone. You thanking him, moaning his name, and/or just moaning in general. The bitching wasn't something he needed.
As if you had read his mind, you dared to ask one more thing. "What is," you whimper when he pulls out again, knowing what's about to happen. You squeeze your eyes shut until he's slammed in again. You cry out, reaching up to grab his big shoulders. Squeezing him made you feel slightly better—slightly comforted. "Fuck... what is your—your name?"
He chuckles darkly. He isn't sure which one he should tell you though. He could technically tell you whatever he wanted, but he wants you screaming his name. The same name that everyone else calls him. "Bucky."
"Bucky," you repeat, looking into his eyes with a sliver of hope. Maybe if he'd tell you his name, he'd go easier. When he snaps his hips harder and faster, that hope simmers away from your eyeline. "Bucky!" You whine, trying to push at his chest.
"Fuck," his eyes roll back at your voice. Your voice whining his name in the perfect pitch. Your little hands trying their hardest to push him away. Fuck, it was all too much. He grabbed at your wrists and pushed them above your head, pinning them both there with his metal hand. It was assuredly way too hard because he watched your face morph into pain and you tried tugging away immediately.
It hurt so bad & you were sure it would bruise by tomorrow. "Bucky, it hurts."
"Yeah? Бери это, сука," he laughs at your attempts to wiggle from his grasp. "Продолжай, только зря силы тратишь."
You sob more at the foreign language. What was he saying? Why was he even talking? This had to have been the most he's said and you can't comprehend it & your mind is mushy. Why was your mind so muddled anyway?
You warble out cries of his name & pleas for him to let go of you, but each word sounds punched out of you as he quite literally pounds his hips into your pelvis. It feels like you might pass out each time he snaps his hips back until they meet yours again.
He watches as your eyes go cross and roll back, bleary and lost. It turns him on more than it should... way more. "You never been fucked before, hm?"
Drool slowly gathers at the corner of your mouth before slowly dripping as you shake your head.
"Let's see if it's true—fuck," he groans as you pulse around him. "What they say about virgins." He laughs at your confused face & furrowed brows before almost full on cackling when that face dissipates into pleasure & emptiness. Your eyes go cross & you moan—cursing your body for liking it.
He looks down and lo and behold: his dick, pelvis, and the white sheets below you are painted scarlet red with your blood. No wonder you were so wet.
God, he felt like he was going to explode if he held off for another minute. He'd already been waiting almost a week.
If you thought his pace was quick before, this new one he set made you rethink everything. Your mouth lolled open, soft moans escaping with the occasional whimper. Your eyes were permanently blurry, either rolled back or crossed from pain and the slightest hint of pleasure from when his tip would hit that spongey spot. Your legs were beginning to shake. Still, your body wouldn't allow itself to cum.
Bucky didn't know where to look. Your fucked out face or your bleeding, newly deflowered pussy. He settled on your face and didn't regret it one bit. "Gonna cum in your fucking pussy. Gonna fucking—боже—cum."
Your mind couldn't register his words. All you knew was his pace was brutal. It wasn't until his hips stalled & he fully plunged into you that your eyes slightly refocused.
His trimmed pubic hair rubbed delicately against your clean shaven pussy, making you subconsciously rut your hips against him as he spurted ropes of cum into your womb. He chuckles when you do so before groaning when you clench around him. "Squeezin' me dry, baby," he said breathlessly, sighing in delight when you continued shamelessly.
Bucky released your bruised wrists and held your hips down. He didn't want you cumming. He wanted you to remain in this fucked out, desperate state for as long as you could. You whimpered, hips unable to fight against his unrelenting grip. At least your wrists had a break now.
"Хорошая пизда, но тупая." He spat, laughing.
Your eyes met his icy blue ones, silently begging for something. Something that you weren't sure of, but something that would end this newfound ache.
"M'sorry," you repeat, voice broken.
"Я понимаю, I know." He shrugs off your apology, but he can tell that you truly mean it now. The look in your eyes isn't one of fear & pleading, it's one of genuine sorrow. Clearly not giving into his desire to have you creaming on his cock was good for something.
He pulled out abruptly, making you wince and snap your legs closed. "Ow," you whimpered, reaching your hand down to feel what was seeping from your cunt. It was thick and there was a lot of it. Your dainty fingers couldn't stop it from flowing. "Bucky," you whined. He was too busy watching to do anything about it.
"Clean up, сука."
With that, he left the room. He didn't bother grabbing his clothes. Nothing. He just left the room, not even bothering to close the door—you had no dignity left anyway.