I had gotten a job, and it completely depleted my motivation towards writing, which is a huge bummer because, obviously, Soldier's Recovery is a work in progress..
But worry not! I have a skeleton for the next chapter! I just need to write it all out💀
Tag: 18+ content, smut, oral (f and m receiving), kissing, 2 Buckys, basically porn with plot lol, piv sex, unsafe sex, Bucky is deeply in love with reader, mentions of drugs, mentions of death/dying, human science experimentation, mentions of lack of bodily autonomy, cursing, slight violence, jealousy, Bucky being a horndog for Reader, Eiffel tower, happy ending!
Wordcount: 5350
A/n: Did I combine my top two interests? yes, yes, I did. I think I may have exceeded by own expectations with this fic and perhaps this one of my longest pieces that I've written so far? idk maybe. I enjoyed writing even though I took a break in-between since I felt lost with how to lead into the other half of this but I think it turned out decent lol
anyway, enjoy!
Back on earth, Bucky was a loser with nothing tying him down to it. He trusted the wrong people and landed himself in a precarious situation that could very well end with him dead in a landfill - all for a debt that he definitely knew he could never pay back.
So what better way of dealing with that situation than signing his life away, unwittingly.
Maybe he really should've read through the application before signing it off after all - it would've saved him the stress of not knowing he'd be a disposable employee.
But hey, on the bright side he avoided death's permanent embrace back on earth and exchanged it for a constant cycle of painful demise to be printed out again all in the name of the grand human expedition, Niflheim!
But yeah, no. It was not fun. Each death was painful, and the knowledge of the inevitable did not lessen the panic that instinctively reared its head.
He'd essentially become a labrat who had no bodily autonomy to the white coats that studied him every hour on the hour.
Bucky hated it, having to accept his morality and keep in mind that he'll be reprinted within the next 24 hours.
Then there was you. Devastatingly beautiful and all-in-one elite agent, you. You saw something in him that no one else did. You cared about the expendable who had nothing but the clothes on his back.
Who absolutely thought every other person on the spaceship were dickheads who asked him, "What's it like to die?"- he never bothered to answer.
You made his otherwise empty and meaningless life on that damn ship worth it. You showed him that love can be found in the most unlikely of places. In a way, you made him glad to have signed onto the expedition because he wouldn't have met you, and that's saying something for sure.
Besides with all you do as an elite agent who acted as a soldier, a police officer and firefighter made him proud of his one and only job, made him feel a part of the team - or more like he was taking one for the team.
Bucky was utterly and hopelessly in love with you. You were in his one, and only since day one, the memory of the first day you two met vivid like a scene plucked out of a movie - full scale and explicit with lack for better words.
-
The crate he sat on pressed into the back of his thighs and buttocks, the slightest movement pinching his skin as he craned his neck upwards to meet your reverent kiss - your lips the softest he's ever tasted causing him to tighten his hold on your waist.
The cheers of the crowd a distant sound as he stood to press you down on the crate, so he's in between your supple thighs. Your giggle pulled a breathless chuckle from him as he took your breast into his hand, massaging and pinching your nipple to hear those delicious moans that fall from your mouth.
Muffling the sound as he crashes his lips against yours, tasting you as he explores your mouth with the experience of a man discovering heaven for the first time.
Your legs tremble and your back arches as he pushes the back of your thigh to your chest, his hand trailing in between your bodies - a broken gasp filling the air as his fingers graze over your clit.
His cock twitched relentlessly as he looked up and was met with your hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, you were an angel who walked along these shitty spaceship halls and worked jobs that you far exceeded - an angel that he needed to know the taste of.
He descended down your body, keeping eye contact with you before his head hovered above your mound.
You smiled sweetly at him before threading your fingers into his hair and pushing him down to exactly where you needed him, and he let you because he was just as desperate to please you in that way. His hands gripped your hips as your legs fell open and he took your clit into his mouth, suckling on the bundle nerves - his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as you pulled his hair and you breathlessly mewled his name.
Your slick coated his chin and he felt you clench around his fingers as he licked just above his fingers to your clit, your thighs clenched around his head instinctively, your hands clawing the crate beneath you.
"Oh God, Bucky!" He loved how you said his name, your voice like wind chimes against all the unpleasant sounds polluting this hunk of shit for a spaceship.
Your chest heaved as your thighs tightly squeezed, a high-pitched moan ripping from you as you reached your high. He didn't have a moment to catch his breath before you urgently pulled him from his kneeling position and pulled him on top of you, your legs wrapping around his waist, his cock prodding your wet core.
"I want you, please, Bucky." You whispered against his agape mouth, your slick glistening on his lips.
He breathed deeply as he slid himself against your folds, coating his cock in your arousal before he pushed himself into you without a hitch, your wetness allowing him to smoothly enter your wet heat and the guttural groan that pulled from him was instinctive and utterly wrecked.
"Fuck.." He grunted, his hips jerking forward and his hands cradling the back of your head as he pushed his face into your neck.
The heat, the wetness, and your pleasured sounds were all clouding his senses and all he could think about is how much he wanted to cum right now.
He can feel the flush climbing up his neck as the tingling sensation at the base of his dick grew stronger, the urge to release the pressure building and muddling his mind. He needly grabbed your legs, pulling them over his shoulders, your thighs pressing your breasts up as he pounded into you.
His left hand gripped your throat with enough force to be pleasurable, his right circling into your clit chasing both of your highs. His breaths come out in hot huffs against your already heated skin before clenching his jaw tightly.
"Buck, I'm gonna -" He cut you off with a heated kiss before he pulled back with furrowed brows. "I know, sweetheart. Me too -"
You threw your head back, your hands grasping the back of his head desperately as your orgasm crashed over you. As soon as he felt his leftover restraint snap, he bit down on your shoulder, his hands pushing the back on your thighs against your body as his hips pressed into you deeper, warm ropes of his pleasure coating the inner walls of your cunt.
He could hear the last of the announcement in the mess hall - something about banning all sexual activities on the ship. Well shit, there's no stopping him now that he's gotten a taste of you, afterall some rules were just meant to be broken.
-
Speaking of rule breaking. This far exceeded that, setting the whole rule book on fire - this was a violation that would very much result in his permanent deletion.
They had gone ahead and printed his 18th variant thinking that he had died out there in the freezing fucking snow dunes. This bastard was printed 2 hours before he even showed up so now they're both fucked if anyone finds out that they're multiples.
"I've gotta kill you." Bucky 18 says roughly, grabbing his heavyweight that sat next to the bed.
"Like hell you are," Bucky snaps as he points at his multiple. "You should kill yourself if one of us has to die."
"Fuck that, I was just printed," 18 argues, circling around the bedroom. "I've barely had a life."
Bucky runs over the bed, yelling in protest. "Well, I was never dead, so you don't count," He hurries to the room door. "Go back to the cycler!"
18 quickly runs after him, reeling his arm back and throwing the weight at him, hitting him on the back of his skull with a hefty thump.
Bucky was down for the count as darkness enveloped his vision, his body slumping heavily.
Out of all the ways to go out, countless deaths he could have gone through, this was probably the second most infuriating way to die - the first being dying over and over from the air-borne virus he had to suffer through until they finally found the vaccine.
It wasn't fair first of all, he didn't die so he shouldn't have to be the one to jump into the cycler but unfortunately for him his duplicate was a psychopath who was just as scared of being a multiple.
How could this be his multiple? Bucky 18 was a piece of work.
He remembered when you told him about the different versions of himself; Bucky 3 was whiny and clingy, 9 was indecisive and 12 was pretty stoic and concerningly machine-esque but none of them were complete nutjobs like 18.
He was gonna kill 18 for thinking he can try to trash him in the cycler, the very thought pissed him off as his fingers circled around the weight that laid on the trash bag in front of him.
When 18 finally reached the cycler room, he crouched in front of the cycler that radiated heat from the lava below.
He seemed lost in thought as he looked down the hole - was he hesitating? What was doing through that fucker's head? He wasn't like him at all, he seemed like an entirely different person by comparison..
Did the transfer of his personality traits fuck up this time around when it came to 18?
The questions caused him to hesitate as he held the weight above him, intending to smash it over 18's head.
18's head snapped back swiftly, causing Bucky to freeze, his body locking up instinctively as he made eye contact with his own blue eyes.
It was creepy and it sent shivers down his spine, this version seemed to have more of a backbone and a taste for bloodlust as 18 slaps him followed by a punch to the stomach before he pushes Bucky over the cycler.
Bucky holds onto the ledge, preventing 18 from pushing him further down the hole. "Half it! half it!" He struggles to say.
18 grips onto Bucky's neck. "What?" He grunts, pausing.
"Half it, half!" Bucky breathlessly said, his fingers still gripping the edge of the cycler. "I'll half it with you,"
18 stares down at him, Bucky continues. "I'll half the rations. We could split the workload, too," He says quickly. "And we can take turns dying." Bucky hopes this asshole can hear reason in this suggestion. He really didn't want to die. Not like this, definitely not like this.
18 tightens his grip, pushing against Bucky's neck towards the hole, Bucky grunts loudly, tightening his hold. "And you're 18, so you can take all the even numbers," he negotiates rapidly. "And I-I'll just cover, like, 19, 21, and the odd numbers."
18 sneers out with a glare. "Are you afraid to die?"
Bucky nods against 18's grip around his neck. "Kinda, yeah."
"You died plenty of times. What are you so scared of?" 18 asks, a mocking edge to his tone.
"Until now, I died, and I was just born again, you know?" Bucky gulps deeply. "It felt like it was me continuing on," he takes shallow quick breaths. "But now, once I die, it'll be over for me. It'll be you living on. You get what I mean?"
18 squints incredulously, removing his hands from Bucky's neck pulling back, allowing Bucky to sit up. "I don't like you," he raspily says "You're such a little bitch."
Bucky points at 18, a self deprecated smile on his lips. "But I'm you."
"I'm not you," 18 says pointedly. "I'm not gonna live like you. I'm gonna kill you!" 18 lunges forward, pushing Bucky back. Bucky screams panickedly, his arms and legs spreading outward to hold onto the cycler's ledges.
18 looks back quickly as he hears the oncoming cleaner whistling down the hall towards the cycler room. He grabs Bucky, pulling him up and dragging him to hide off somewhere out of sight.
They watched silently as the cleaner traded off the pure uncut oxy.
18 leaned over Bucky, his weight pressing the other man down before he finally tried to shove him with annoyance. 18 smacked him on his head injury in retaliation, causing Bucky to hiss in pain.
"Fuckin asshole, that hurt!" he whispered aggressively, 18 only tilted his head at the scene playing out infront of them.
Bucky wasn't all too interested. Instances like these happen more often than anyone was willing to admit.
A little diluted oxy to take off the edge when relaxing in your cabin was fine and dandy but the pure, uncut stuff was not only highly addictive but hard to come by, seeing as you could only retrieve them from their allotted flamethrowers.
Two Oxyzofol capsules per flamethrower. And you'd better hope you don't get caught by weapons. They were possessive of their weaponry.
"Shut up, 17." Bucky glared before he heard the sound of footsteps descending the stairs from the floor above.
"What the fuck is going on here?" You. Your voice resonated throughout the cycler room with authority as you caught sight of the dealers, your co-worker following close behind.
"Are you serious, Pip? Again?" You asked with exasperation dripping off your tone, your hand snatching the oxy capsule from his hand. He stammered with excuses, but you stared back with an unmoved expression.
Bucky practically swooned at the sight of you. He loved that look on you, the look you gave when you didn't want to deal with bullshit.
You were so hot in your agent uniform, your pants fitted just right hugging your hips and your weapon holsters snugly wrapped around your thighs, accentuating the suppleness of them.
His eyes trailed up above him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he looked at 18 and the way his multiple bit down on his lip, the former’s eyes taking in the sight of you confirmed his fear. His counterpart also was majorly attracted to you, as every other him before him did.
It only pissed him off further, his elbow rearing back and ramming into 18's stomach, causing the other man to stumble back.
18 recollected himself within a split second, his fist coming down on Bucky's head right where his injury lay, again. He swears that he has a concussion as he feels his vision blur around the edges.
During their small scuffle, your voice called out in confusion.
"Anyone there?" Bucky held his breath, stilling in fear. Oh God, no. You can't see both of them here, there's too many people here.
Before he could react, 18 stumbles out within your line of sight.
"Bucky? Baby, what're you doing here?" You ask softly, your head tilting slightly in confusion.
18 walked closer to you, his arm wrapping around your waist. "I was asked to throw out some scrap. Did I miss something?"
Your hand trailed up 18's back with affectionate concern. "No, everything's fine, but you should've stayed in bed," you sigh lightly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "It's only been a couple of hours since you've been printed."
18 chuckles, shaking his head sheepishly. "Yeah, I should’ve."
Your co-worker turned to you, his hands holding onto the cuffs of the cleaner. "Y/n, you should take Bucky home," he sighs. "I'll wrap everything up once I get Pip to detainment."
You nod, a smile on your lips. "Yes, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow." You wave, walking off with 18.
Your flirty smile and fluttering lashes are directed at 18 as the two of you walk back towards the cabin area.
His heart is pounding wildly in his ears as he catches sight of the way 18 is fondling your ass with no shame whatsoever, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers sweet nothings to you as if he wasn't a walking violation.
No, no, no. That bastard was practically drooling over you as you seductively whispered that you were in the mood for your preferred position of the night.
Bucky breathing picked up as he sulked along the walls, hidden from view as he followed the pair of you, a string of curses falling from his mouth as he watched 18 growl in your ear and pulled your hips into him.
Your giggles high pitched in giddiness. "This isn't like you, Bucky!" Yeah, because it wasn't him. It was an asshole version of him - he thought somberly.
He looked on as you laughed, running up the staircase with 18 close on your heels, intending to follow close behind to prevent what he feared most.
But just as he was about to ascend the staircase, his name was called and he was dragged off away from you - the light dying behind his eyes and his soul floating out of his body from devastation.
This is the moment he dies. That asshole's grubby hands are gonna be all over your beautiful body.. he could just sob in jealousy right now.
'My beautiful y/n..'
Today was definitely ranked numero uno for the worst day of his life, and he was gonna kill 18 for it.
-
The cabin room’s door rattled as he slid it back, stepping into the room. His jaw was clenched, and his shoulders taut as he mentally prepared to fully walk into the bedroom area. He could already imagine the image of himself towering over your nude body, 18’s hands gripping the fullness of your hips as he kissed up your neck towards your kiss, bruised lips.
He took a deep breath as he ripped off the metaphorical band aid of fumbling nerves, stepping past the wall into clear view of their bed but instead of being met with the dreaded view of your naked body intertwined with 18's, his eyes widen as your hands cup his cheeks with both awe and a soft eagerness.
"17," you breathe out, your eyes wide. "I knew this would happen eventually."
The bathroom door slides open, revealing a shirtless 18, his counterpart looking him up and down with an amused smirk.
"Stand next to each other," you say, your hand reaching for 18 and pulling him closer to Bucky.
"Take this off, buck." Your hands undo the buttons on his shirt, his eyes dropping to your movement in confusion. "What?"
"I want you to look the same." You smile, helping him lift his shirt up his arms and off his body.
Your mouth drops in astonishment as 18 chuckles and drapes his arm around Bucky's shoulders, Bucky only looks between you and 18 with furrowed brows, his confusion permeating off of him in waves.
This situation couldn't be more bizarre, and he's as frazzled as could be with his whole jealously over himself touching you, but this isn't at all how he thought you would react. He expected you to be scared or perhaps anxious, but you're more on the fascinated and excited spectrum.
He does that knot of nervousness in his chest loosen, his head dropping to where your hand laid, smooth and warm on his pec, his eyes trailing back up to meet yours.
Your smile is affectionate and bright, your eyes glowing with a light that's only reserved for him.
"Y/n.. h-how are you so calm about this?" His voice carries that tinge of uneasiness, his hand instinctively gripping your hand. "This is a Multiples Violation. I-I’m good as dead!"
You shake your head. "Not if they don't know, besides," You look between the two of them. "18 told me that you guys sorted this out already."
Bucky bottom lip juts out as his eyes narrow at the other man, 18 blinks lazily, ignoring his stare intentionally.
"Eat half, work half," you say sternly, pointing at the pair. "Alternating deaths, evens and odds." You sigh lightly as you brush your hair behind your ear.
"I can't bear the thought of either of you dying for good, so I'll feed you both as often as I can," your voice determined, and your stare just as strong. "So be good boys, and don't fight."
18 smiles slyly, nodding, and it makes Bucky want to punch him square in the ear just cause.
You clap your hands together with a finality. "Good system. Now chill." You say, walking to the other side of the room.
Your hands unbutton your pants and slide it down your smooth legs with an air of unbothered ness, though your form carried a hint of exhaustion from a day that dragged on too long.
He felt guilty that at a time like this, the sight of your bare legs shot right down to his dick and he wanted nothing more than to have you bent over your shared bed
The only problem was the piece of shit sitting right next to him now. 18 leaning back on his hand with his legs, man-spread as his eyes trailed over your half-naked body with a hunger he was all too familiar with.
There wasn't a time that you and him didn't have your hands on each other, with your responsibilities as an agent and his constant trips to the lab to be experimented on, there was long periods of not being able to have alone time and he already felt deprived of your touch. he's not sure if he had the willpower to put off sex while his multiple was around, even though the thought of sharing you was off putting..perhaps he could adapt.
18 was still him despite their differences, though there were obvious gaps in personalities, 18 would know every kink and cranny of you as he did. It could be beneficial.
The bed dipped as you knelt in between the two of them, Bucky's hand settling on your lower back, his fingers soothing that persistent ache you often carried after a long day of work.
You sigh contentedly before humming when 18 massages the nape of your neck affectionately.
Bucky can admit that 18 was quite soft when it came to you despite thinking he's an asshole - he can see 18 loved you too, there wasn't a doubt about it.
"My boys, you're too sweet.." Your voice drips with a sweetness that settles deep in their bones, your body pliant under their touch.
He can feel himself getting harder at how breathlessly you say it and he closes his eyes as he breathes in deeply, it's crazy just how much of a sex fiend he is since he's been with you. It's unfair how you're laying right in front of him in just your small panties and your lacy black bra - the straps falling off your shoulders in that way that just drives him insane.
His eyes trail to 18 and their gazes meet, they share a knowing look - Knowing in a way that their resistance is thinning. Yeah, they certainly are counterparts for damn sure with how in sync their train of thought is.
Easy as breathing, they were kissing up the length of your back, your body tensing at the unexpected moment, a shudder running up your spine. He grows tired of being subtle as his hands grip your hips, jutting you upwards on your knees, your ass pressed against his hard on.
18 slides in front of you as he kissed from the crook of your neck to your mouth, a surprised gasp tumbling from your parted lips. 18's tongue gliding along your bottom lip before he tentatively pulled you deeper into the kiss.
Your breathing picked up as you felt Bucky's knowing hands expertly undid your bra, the piece falling from your chest, and he didn't waste a second before his hand smoothes over your torso to your breasts. His top half leaned over you as his fingers tweaked your nipples, his print deviously pressed harder into the curve of your ass.
You moaned into 18's mouth, your hand gliding from his bare chest down to his crotch, his brows furrowing in a pleasured expression.
"I don't know about you, 18," Bucky says lowly, one hand playing from your nipple and the other traveling to between your legs, pushing your panties to the side "but I think our girl needs some stress relief."
18 grins against your lips before he moves to your neck, licking and nipping the sensitive skin right under your ear.
"Couldn't have said it better myself." He answers back, his smile only widening as Bucky's fingers graze over your sensitive clit, teasing you with light touches, your moans becoming whimpers of pleading.
"Is that what you want, baby?" Bucky whispers down to you, watching as 18 grips your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye."Go on, sweetheart. Answer him." 18 smugly says, kissing your cheeks.
Your breath comes out in shudders as you try to answer through the pleasure that resonated from your clit, Bucky's fingers now relentless against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Plea-please, I want it. More than anything!" Your desperation bleeds through your words, fumbling fingers and pleading eyes.
You were absolutely beautiful in this light, so wrecked and so pliable and under their mercy. During the day, you were so full of strength and a pillar of reliability but at night, in your shared bed, you were so pleading and gorgeously disheveled in your display of pleasure, just the way he loved it.
Bucky groans as he presses himself harder into you, his lips trailing down your back. He was so turned on that he didn't know just how much more he could take. Your wetness coated his fingers as he played with your clit, your legs quivering and your hips twitching as you felt yourself edging closer to that release.
A strong moan ripped from your mouth as 18 took your nipple into his mouth, his other hand giving equal attention to your other breast. "Oh my God!" Your hands gripping onto 18's shoulders to keep balance from falling forwards.
"Come on, baby. I know you're close." Bucky's voice comes out rough as his arm wraps around your waist, keeping you pushed up against his hips, his fingers unyielding as he pushes his middle finger into your core, the heel of his palm slapping against your clit causing your eyes to roll back and your moans to come out ragged.
"Please! Don't stop!" They don't. They know the tell-tale signs of your orgasm, the way your voice pitches, and the way your body tenses so deliciously.
Your back arches, your hands clutching 18 closer to your chest desperately and a broken shriek escapes you as you cum, your legs trembling and your mouth falling open as you try catching your breath.
18 litters your face with soft kisses, your eyes fluttering, and a satisfied smile graces your lips, breathing out a sigh as you feel Bucky massages your hips and the side of your thighs.
"You did good, baby doll." 18 says, brushing back your hair from your damp forehead.
Your hand reaches back for Bucky's hand, and he readily takes it, kissing your knuckles with a reverent affection. "It's your turn, boys"
They gaze at you for a second before slightly leaning to the side to share a look - 18 raises a brow, a question that Bucky knows the answer to, he nods to the former.
"If you say so, baby." Bucky chuckles as he lifts you upright, positioning you just right so the both of them can tower over you.
Bucky standing behind you and 18 positioned right in front of your face, his groin at eye level with you.
Your fingers pulled down the waistband of his pants slowly, enjoying the way 18 looks down with a look of anticipation and eagerness, his teeth biting down on his plush bottom lip. Finally his cock was free of his boxers, bouncing up and erect just for you and you don’t waste so much time, kissing his tip.
It was the exact replica of Bucky's, the two sharing every detail possible with the other. From the veins that adorned their solid dicks to the very specific color of their tips and as you licked the bead of precum that beaded like a small pearl on the slit, it tasted exactly the same.
Bucky watched as you kissed and kitten licked at his multiple's cock and he couldn't help the small cloud of jealousy brewing inside of him but a smirk pulled at his lips as he pushed himself into you with no warning, a self satisfied feeling washing over him as you gasped in sudden pleasure, your hand gripping the bed's comforter.
They both released a guttural groan as Bucky bottomed out in your tight pussy and 18 felt the way your warm tongue licked up his length before taking him into your mouth.
There was a moment of respite, a moment to take in the pleasure before the tension became too much.
Bucky's movements jolted you forward causing you to fully take 18's cock in your mouth, the sounds of both your wet mouth and pussy resonated off the wall of the bedroom.
You were filled on both ends and they could see just how fucked out you were, the way your eyes watered from the pleasure and the undeniable way that they've completed and utterly ruined you.
"That's our good girl." 18 mutters, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair, smiling at the way your lashes flutter up at him as you suck on his cock.
"Taking us so well," Bucky grunts, his hand coming down and slapping the curve of your ass just the way you like it, biting his lip at the way you moaned at the sensation.
Bucky's tip kept hitting that soft and gummy spot of yours, his dick twitching at the way you clenched around him. "Fuck, pretty girl, If you keep squeezing me that-" he moaned, his arms wrapping around your stomach. "I'm gonna cum.." You squeeze him again, your ass tilting up as if to take him in deeper.
"It's too good -" 18 grunts, his fingers caressing your cheek. "You gonna take it, beautiful? My cum?" He says to you sweetly, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear as if he isn't fucking down your throat and you nod, a whimper of want emitting from you.
Bucky's hands grip onto your hips tighter. "And I'm gonna fuck my cum into this tight pussy, baby," he kisses your lower back. "You want that, yeah?" You nod, your whimpers only increasing as your eyes welled with tears. You were so close and all your senses were filled by them everywhere and it was so pleasurable that it was overwhelming.
"Okay, sweetheart, that's it." 18 groans as he slightly pulls back so he can see how his cum pools onto your tongue and you willingly swallow every drop with eagerness.
Bucky quickly pulls you up against him, your back pressed to his chest as his hips desperately rut into you. "Take it like a good girl!" He whispers in your ear, his hand pressed into your throat and his lips kissing into your neck before he groans loudly, cumming deeply into your pussy. Your moan practically, a scream as you cum right along with him, your cunt violently clenching around his cock milking him dry.
The room is filled with heavy pants and reeked of sex as you all dropped onto the bed unceremoniously. All is quiet until you finally speak.
"Oh my God.."
They all breathlessly laugh in disbelief, staring up at the ceiling. "I could get used to this." There's a hum of agreement. A shared sentiment.
Looks like most rules are okay to break after all. Violation or not.
Tag: 18+ content, smut, oral (f and m receiving), kissing, 2 Buckys, basically porn with plot lol, piv sex, unsafe sex, Bucky is deeply in love with reader, mentions of drugs, mentions of death/dying, human science experimentation, mentions of lack of bodily autonomy, cursing, slight violence, jealousy, Bucky being a horndog for Reader, Eiffel tower, happy ending!
Wordcount: 5350
A/n: Did I combine my top two interests? yes, yes, I did. I think I may have exceeded by own expectations with this fic and perhaps this one of my longest pieces that I've written so far? idk maybe. I enjoyed writing even though I took a break in-between since I felt lost with how to lead into the other half of this but I think it turned out decent lol
anyway, enjoy!
Back on earth, Bucky was a loser with nothing tying him down to it. He trusted the wrong people and landed himself in a precarious situation that could very well end with him dead in a landfill - all for a debt that he definitely knew he could never pay back.
So what better way of dealing with that situation than signing his life away, unwittingly.
Maybe he really should've read through the application before signing it off after all - it would've saved him the stress of not knowing he'd be a disposable employee.
But hey, on the bright side he avoided death's permanent embrace back on earth and exchanged it for a constant cycle of painful demise to be printed out again all in the name of the grand human expedition, Niflheim!
But yeah, no. It was not fun. Each death was painful, and the knowledge of the inevitable did not lessen the panic that instinctively reared its head.
He'd essentially become a labrat who had no bodily autonomy to the white coats that studied him every hour on the hour.
Bucky hated it, having to accept his morality and keep in mind that he'll be reprinted within the next 24 hours.
Then there was you. Devastatingly beautiful and all-in-one elite agent, you. You saw something in him that no one else did. You cared about the expendable who had nothing but the clothes on his back.
Who absolutely thought every other person on the spaceship were dickheads who asked him, "What's it like to die?"- he never bothered to answer.
You made his otherwise empty and meaningless life on that damn ship worth it. You showed him that love can be found in the most unlikely of places. In a way, you made him glad to have signed onto the expedition because he wouldn't have met you, and that's saying something for sure.
Besides with all you do as an elite agent who acted as a soldier, a police officer and firefighter made him proud of his one and only job, made him feel a part of the team - or more like he was taking one for the team.
Bucky was utterly and hopelessly in love with you. You were in his one, and only since day one, the memory of the first day you two met vivid like a scene plucked out of a movie - full scale and explicit with lack for better words.
-
The crate he sat on pressed into the back of his thighs and buttocks, the slightest movement pinching his skin as he craned his neck upwards to meet your reverent kiss - your lips the softest he's ever tasted causing him to tighten his hold on your waist.
The cheers of the crowd a distant sound as he stood to press you down on the crate, so he's in between your supple thighs. Your giggle pulled a breathless chuckle from him as he took your breast into his hand, massaging and pinching your nipple to hear those delicious moans that fall from your mouth.
Muffling the sound as he crashes his lips against yours, tasting you as he explores your mouth with the experience of a man discovering heaven for the first time.
Your legs tremble and your back arches as he pushes the back of your thigh to your chest, his hand trailing in between your bodies - a broken gasp filling the air as his fingers graze over your clit.
His cock twitched relentlessly as he looked up and was met with your hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, you were an angel who walked along these shitty spaceship halls and worked jobs that you far exceeded - an angel that he needed to know the taste of.
He descended down your body, keeping eye contact with you before his head hovered above your mound.
You smiled sweetly at him before threading your fingers into his hair and pushing him down to exactly where you needed him, and he let you because he was just as desperate to please you in that way. His hands gripped your hips as your legs fell open and he took your clit into his mouth, suckling on the bundle nerves - his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as you pulled his hair and you breathlessly mewled his name.
Your slick coated his chin and he felt you clench around his fingers as he licked just above his fingers to your clit, your thighs clenched around his head instinctively, your hands clawing the crate beneath you.
"Oh God, Bucky!" He loved how you said his name, your voice like wind chimes against all the unpleasant sounds polluting this hunk of shit for a spaceship.
Your chest heaved as your thighs tightly squeezed, a high-pitched moan ripping from you as you reached your high. He didn't have a moment to catch his breath before you urgently pulled him from his kneeling position and pulled him on top of you, your legs wrapping around his waist, his cock prodding your wet core.
"I want you, please, Bucky." You whispered against his agape mouth, your slick glistening on his lips.
He breathed deeply as he slid himself against your folds, coating his cock in your arousal before he pushed himself into you without a hitch, your wetness allowing him to smoothly enter your wet heat and the guttural groan that pulled from him was instinctive and utterly wrecked.
"Fuck.." He grunted, his hips jerking forward and his hands cradling the back of your head as he pushed his face into your neck.
The heat, the wetness, and your pleasured sounds were all clouding his senses and all he could think about is how much he wanted to cum right now.
He can feel the flush climbing up his neck as the tingling sensation at the base of his dick grew stronger, the urge to release the pressure building and muddling his mind. He needly grabbed your legs, pulling them over his shoulders, your thighs pressing your breasts up as he pounded into you.
His left hand gripped your throat with enough force to be pleasurable, his right circling into your clit chasing both of your highs. His breaths come out in hot huffs against your already heated skin before clenching his jaw tightly.
"Buck, I'm gonna -" He cut you off with a heated kiss before he pulled back with furrowed brows. "I know, sweetheart. Me too -"
You threw your head back, your hands grasping the back of his head desperately as your orgasm crashed over you. As soon as he felt his leftover restraint snap, he bit down on your shoulder, his hands pushing the back on your thighs against your body as his hips pressed into you deeper, warm ropes of his pleasure coating the inner walls of your cunt.
He could hear the last of the announcement in the mess hall - something about banning all sexual activities on the ship. Well shit, there's no stopping him now that he's gotten a taste of you, afterall some rules were just meant to be broken.
-
Speaking of rule breaking. This far exceeded that, setting the whole rule book on fire - this was a violation that would very much result in his permanent deletion.
They had gone ahead and printed his 18th variant thinking that he had died out there in the freezing fucking snow dunes. This bastard was printed 2 hours before he even showed up so now they're both fucked if anyone finds out that they're multiples.
"I've gotta kill you." Bucky 18 says roughly, grabbing his heavyweight that sat next to the bed.
"Like hell you are," Bucky snaps as he points at his multiple. "You should kill yourself if one of us has to die."
"Fuck that, I was just printed," 18 argues, circling around the bedroom. "I've barely had a life."
Bucky runs over the bed, yelling in protest. "Well, I was never dead, so you don't count," He hurries to the room door. "Go back to the cycler!"
18 quickly runs after him, reeling his arm back and throwing the weight at him, hitting him on the back of his skull with a hefty thump.
Bucky was down for the count as darkness enveloped his vision, his body slumping heavily.
Out of all the ways to go out, countless deaths he could have gone through, this was probably the second most infuriating way to die - the first being dying over and over from the air-borne virus he had to suffer through until they finally found the vaccine.
It wasn't fair first of all, he didn't die so he shouldn't have to be the one to jump into the cycler but unfortunately for him his duplicate was a psychopath who was just as scared of being a multiple.
How could this be his multiple? Bucky 18 was a piece of work.
He remembered when you told him about the different versions of himself; Bucky 3 was whiny and clingy, 9 was indecisive and 12 was pretty stoic and concerningly machine-esque but none of them were complete nutjobs like 18.
He was gonna kill 18 for thinking he can try to trash him in the cycler, the very thought pissed him off as his fingers circled around the weight that laid on the trash bag in front of him.
When 18 finally reached the cycler room, he crouched in front of the cycler that radiated heat from the lava below.
He seemed lost in thought as he looked down the hole - was he hesitating? What was doing through that fucker's head? He wasn't like him at all, he seemed like an entirely different person by comparison..
Did the transfer of his personality traits fuck up this time around when it came to 18?
The questions caused him to hesitate as he held the weight above him, intending to smash it over 18's head.
18's head snapped back swiftly, causing Bucky to freeze, his body locking up instinctively as he made eye contact with his own blue eyes.
It was creepy and it sent shivers down his spine, this version seemed to have more of a backbone and a taste for bloodlust as 18 slaps him followed by a punch to the stomach before he pushes Bucky over the cycler.
Bucky holds onto the ledge, preventing 18 from pushing him further down the hole. "Half it! half it!" He struggles to say.
18 grips onto Bucky's neck. "What?" He grunts, pausing.
"Half it, half!" Bucky breathlessly said, his fingers still gripping the edge of the cycler. "I'll half it with you,"
18 stares down at him, Bucky continues. "I'll half the rations. We could split the workload, too," He says quickly. "And we can take turns dying." Bucky hopes this asshole can hear reason in this suggestion. He really didn't want to die. Not like this, definitely not like this.
18 tightens his grip, pushing against Bucky's neck towards the hole, Bucky grunts loudly, tightening his hold. "And you're 18, so you can take all the even numbers," he negotiates rapidly. "And I-I'll just cover, like, 19, 21, and the odd numbers."
18 sneers out with a glare. "Are you afraid to die?"
Bucky nods against 18's grip around his neck. "Kinda, yeah."
"You died plenty of times. What are you so scared of?" 18 asks, a mocking edge to his tone.
"Until now, I died, and I was just born again, you know?" Bucky gulps deeply. "It felt like it was me continuing on," he takes shallow quick breaths. "But now, once I die, it'll be over for me. It'll be you living on. You get what I mean?"
18 squints incredulously, removing his hands from Bucky's neck pulling back, allowing Bucky to sit up. "I don't like you," he raspily says "You're such a little bitch."
Bucky points at 18, a self deprecated smile on his lips. "But I'm you."
"I'm not you," 18 says pointedly. "I'm not gonna live like you. I'm gonna kill you!" 18 lunges forward, pushing Bucky back. Bucky screams panickedly, his arms and legs spreading outward to hold onto the cycler's ledges.
18 looks back quickly as he hears the oncoming cleaner whistling down the hall towards the cycler room. He grabs Bucky, pulling him up and dragging him to hide off somewhere out of sight.
They watched silently as the cleaner traded off the pure uncut oxy.
18 leaned over Bucky, his weight pressing the other man down before he finally tried to shove him with annoyance. 18 smacked him on his head injury in retaliation, causing Bucky to hiss in pain.
"Fuckin asshole, that hurt!" he whispered aggressively, 18 only tilted his head at the scene playing out infront of them.
Bucky wasn't all too interested. Instances like these happen more often than anyone was willing to admit.
A little diluted oxy to take off the edge when relaxing in your cabin was fine and dandy but the pure, uncut stuff was not only highly addictive but hard to come by, seeing as you could only retrieve them from their allotted flamethrowers.
Two Oxyzofol capsules per flamethrower. And you'd better hope you don't get caught by weapons. They were possessive of their weaponry.
"Shut up, 17." Bucky glared before he heard the sound of footsteps descending the stairs from the floor above.
"What the fuck is going on here?" You. Your voice resonated throughout the cycler room with authority as you caught sight of the dealers, your co-worker following close behind.
"Are you serious, Pip? Again?" You asked with exasperation dripping off your tone, your hand snatching the oxy capsule from his hand. He stammered with excuses, but you stared back with an unmoved expression.
Bucky practically swooned at the sight of you. He loved that look on you, the look you gave when you didn't want to deal with bullshit.
You were so hot in your agent uniform, your pants fitted just right hugging your hips and your weapon holsters snugly wrapped around your thighs, accentuating the suppleness of them.
His eyes trailed up above him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he looked at 18 and the way his multiple bit down on his lip, the former’s eyes taking in the sight of you confirmed his fear. His counterpart also was majorly attracted to you, as every other him before him did.
It only pissed him off further, his elbow rearing back and ramming into 18's stomach, causing the other man to stumble back.
18 recollected himself within a split second, his fist coming down on Bucky's head right where his injury lay, again. He swears that he has a concussion as he feels his vision blur around the edges.
During their small scuffle, your voice called out in confusion.
"Anyone there?" Bucky held his breath, stilling in fear. Oh God, no. You can't see both of them here, there's too many people here.
Before he could react, 18 stumbles out within your line of sight.
"Bucky? Baby, what're you doing here?" You ask softly, your head tilting slightly in confusion.
18 walked closer to you, his arm wrapping around your waist. "I was asked to throw out some scrap. Did I miss something?"
Your hand trailed up 18's back with affectionate concern. "No, everything's fine, but you should've stayed in bed," you sigh lightly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "It's only been a couple of hours since you've been printed."
18 chuckles, shaking his head sheepishly. "Yeah, I should’ve."
Your co-worker turned to you, his hands holding onto the cuffs of the cleaner. "Y/n, you should take Bucky home," he sighs. "I'll wrap everything up once I get Pip to detainment."
You nod, a smile on your lips. "Yes, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow." You wave, walking off with 18.
Your flirty smile and fluttering lashes are directed at 18 as the two of you walk back towards the cabin area.
His heart is pounding wildly in his ears as he catches sight of the way 18 is fondling your ass with no shame whatsoever, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers sweet nothings to you as if he wasn't a walking violation.
No, no, no. That bastard was practically drooling over you as you seductively whispered that you were in the mood for your preferred position of the night.
Bucky breathing picked up as he sulked along the walls, hidden from view as he followed the pair of you, a string of curses falling from his mouth as he watched 18 growl in your ear and pulled your hips into him.
Your giggles high pitched in giddiness. "This isn't like you, Bucky!" Yeah, because it wasn't him. It was an asshole version of him - he thought somberly.
He looked on as you laughed, running up the staircase with 18 close on your heels, intending to follow close behind to prevent what he feared most.
But just as he was about to ascend the staircase, his name was called and he was dragged off away from you - the light dying behind his eyes and his soul floating out of his body from devastation.
This is the moment he dies. That asshole's grubby hands are gonna be all over your beautiful body.. he could just sob in jealousy right now.
'My beautiful y/n..'
Today was definitely ranked numero uno for the worst day of his life, and he was gonna kill 18 for it.
-
The cabin room’s door rattled as he slid it back, stepping into the room. His jaw was clenched, and his shoulders taut as he mentally prepared to fully walk into the bedroom area. He could already imagine the image of himself towering over your nude body, 18’s hands gripping the fullness of your hips as he kissed up your neck towards your kiss, bruised lips.
He took a deep breath as he ripped off the metaphorical band aid of fumbling nerves, stepping past the wall into clear view of their bed but instead of being met with the dreaded view of your naked body intertwined with 18's, his eyes widen as your hands cup his cheeks with both awe and a soft eagerness.
"17," you breathe out, your eyes wide. "I knew this would happen eventually."
The bathroom door slides open, revealing a shirtless 18, his counterpart looking him up and down with an amused smirk.
"Stand next to each other," you say, your hand reaching for 18 and pulling him closer to Bucky.
"Take this off, buck." Your hands undo the buttons on his shirt, his eyes dropping to your movement in confusion. "What?"
"I want you to look the same." You smile, helping him lift his shirt up his arms and off his body.
Your mouth drops in astonishment as 18 chuckles and drapes his arm around Bucky's shoulders, Bucky only looks between you and 18 with furrowed brows, his confusion permeating off of him in waves.
This situation couldn't be more bizarre, and he's as frazzled as could be with his whole jealously over himself touching you, but this isn't at all how he thought you would react. He expected you to be scared or perhaps anxious, but you're more on the fascinated and excited spectrum.
He does that knot of nervousness in his chest loosen, his head dropping to where your hand laid, smooth and warm on his pec, his eyes trailing back up to meet yours.
Your smile is affectionate and bright, your eyes glowing with a light that's only reserved for him.
"Y/n.. h-how are you so calm about this?" His voice carries that tinge of uneasiness, his hand instinctively gripping your hand. "This is a Multiples Violation. I-I’m good as dead!"
You shake your head. "Not if they don't know, besides," You look between the two of them. "18 told me that you guys sorted this out already."
Bucky bottom lip juts out as his eyes narrow at the other man, 18 blinks lazily, ignoring his stare intentionally.
"Eat half, work half," you say sternly, pointing at the pair. "Alternating deaths, evens and odds." You sigh lightly as you brush your hair behind your ear.
"I can't bear the thought of either of you dying for good, so I'll feed you both as often as I can," your voice determined, and your stare just as strong. "So be good boys, and don't fight."
18 smiles slyly, nodding, and it makes Bucky want to punch him square in the ear just cause.
You clap your hands together with a finality. "Good system. Now chill." You say, walking to the other side of the room.
Your hands unbutton your pants and slide it down your smooth legs with an air of unbothered ness, though your form carried a hint of exhaustion from a day that dragged on too long.
He felt guilty that at a time like this, the sight of your bare legs shot right down to his dick and he wanted nothing more than to have you bent over your shared bed
The only problem was the piece of shit sitting right next to him now. 18 leaning back on his hand with his legs, man-spread as his eyes trailed over your half-naked body with a hunger he was all too familiar with.
There wasn't a time that you and him didn't have your hands on each other, with your responsibilities as an agent and his constant trips to the lab to be experimented on, there was long periods of not being able to have alone time and he already felt deprived of your touch. he's not sure if he had the willpower to put off sex while his multiple was around, even though the thought of sharing you was off putting..perhaps he could adapt.
18 was still him despite their differences, though there were obvious gaps in personalities, 18 would know every kink and cranny of you as he did. It could be beneficial.
The bed dipped as you knelt in between the two of them, Bucky's hand settling on your lower back, his fingers soothing that persistent ache you often carried after a long day of work.
You sigh contentedly before humming when 18 massages the nape of your neck affectionately.
Bucky can admit that 18 was quite soft when it came to you despite thinking he's an asshole - he can see 18 loved you too, there wasn't a doubt about it.
"My boys, you're too sweet.." Your voice drips with a sweetness that settles deep in their bones, your body pliant under their touch.
He can feel himself getting harder at how breathlessly you say it and he closes his eyes as he breathes in deeply, it's crazy just how much of a sex fiend he is since he's been with you. It's unfair how you're laying right in front of him in just your small panties and your lacy black bra - the straps falling off your shoulders in that way that just drives him insane.
His eyes trail to 18 and their gazes meet, they share a knowing look - Knowing in a way that their resistance is thinning. Yeah, they certainly are counterparts for damn sure with how in sync their train of thought is.
Easy as breathing, they were kissing up the length of your back, your body tensing at the unexpected moment, a shudder running up your spine. He grows tired of being subtle as his hands grip your hips, jutting you upwards on your knees, your ass pressed against his hard on.
18 slides in front of you as he kissed from the crook of your neck to your mouth, a surprised gasp tumbling from your parted lips. 18's tongue gliding along your bottom lip before he tentatively pulled you deeper into the kiss.
Your breathing picked up as you felt Bucky's knowing hands expertly undid your bra, the piece falling from your chest, and he didn't waste a second before his hand smoothes over your torso to your breasts. His top half leaned over you as his fingers tweaked your nipples, his print deviously pressed harder into the curve of your ass.
You moaned into 18's mouth, your hand gliding from his bare chest down to his crotch, his brows furrowing in a pleasured expression.
"I don't know about you, 18," Bucky says lowly, one hand playing from your nipple and the other traveling to between your legs, pushing your panties to the side "but I think our girl needs some stress relief."
18 grins against your lips before he moves to your neck, licking and nipping the sensitive skin right under your ear.
"Couldn't have said it better myself." He answers back, his smile only widening as Bucky's fingers graze over your sensitive clit, teasing you with light touches, your moans becoming whimpers of pleading.
"Is that what you want, baby?" Bucky whispers down to you, watching as 18 grips your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye."Go on, sweetheart. Answer him." 18 smugly says, kissing your cheeks.
Your breath comes out in shudders as you try to answer through the pleasure that resonated from your clit, Bucky's fingers now relentless against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Plea-please, I want it. More than anything!" Your desperation bleeds through your words, fumbling fingers and pleading eyes.
You were absolutely beautiful in this light, so wrecked and so pliable and under their mercy. During the day, you were so full of strength and a pillar of reliability but at night, in your shared bed, you were so pleading and gorgeously disheveled in your display of pleasure, just the way he loved it.
Bucky groans as he presses himself harder into you, his lips trailing down your back. He was so turned on that he didn't know just how much more he could take. Your wetness coated his fingers as he played with your clit, your legs quivering and your hips twitching as you felt yourself edging closer to that release.
A strong moan ripped from your mouth as 18 took your nipple into his mouth, his other hand giving equal attention to your other breast. "Oh my God!" Your hands gripping onto 18's shoulders to keep balance from falling forwards.
"Come on, baby. I know you're close." Bucky's voice comes out rough as his arm wraps around your waist, keeping you pushed up against his hips, his fingers unyielding as he pushes his middle finger into your core, the heel of his palm slapping against your clit causing your eyes to roll back and your moans to come out ragged.
"Please! Don't stop!" They don't. They know the tell-tale signs of your orgasm, the way your voice pitches, and the way your body tenses so deliciously.
Your back arches, your hands clutching 18 closer to your chest desperately and a broken shriek escapes you as you cum, your legs trembling and your mouth falling open as you try catching your breath.
18 litters your face with soft kisses, your eyes fluttering, and a satisfied smile graces your lips, breathing out a sigh as you feel Bucky massages your hips and the side of your thighs.
"You did good, baby doll." 18 says, brushing back your hair from your damp forehead.
Your hand reaches back for Bucky's hand, and he readily takes it, kissing your knuckles with a reverent affection. "It's your turn, boys"
They gaze at you for a second before slightly leaning to the side to share a look - 18 raises a brow, a question that Bucky knows the answer to, he nods to the former.
"If you say so, baby." Bucky chuckles as he lifts you upright, positioning you just right so the both of them can tower over you.
Bucky standing behind you and 18 positioned right in front of your face, his groin at eye level with you.
Your fingers pulled down the waistband of his pants slowly, enjoying the way 18 looks down with a look of anticipation and eagerness, his teeth biting down on his plush bottom lip. Finally his cock was free of his boxers, bouncing up and erect just for you and you don’t waste so much time, kissing his tip.
It was the exact replica of Bucky's, the two sharing every detail possible with the other. From the veins that adorned their solid dicks to the very specific color of their tips and as you licked the bead of precum that beaded like a small pearl on the slit, it tasted exactly the same.
Bucky watched as you kissed and kitten licked at his multiple's cock and he couldn't help the small cloud of jealousy brewing inside of him but a smirk pulled at his lips as he pushed himself into you with no warning, a self satisfied feeling washing over him as you gasped in sudden pleasure, your hand gripping the bed's comforter.
They both released a guttural groan as Bucky bottomed out in your tight pussy and 18 felt the way your warm tongue licked up his length before taking him into your mouth.
There was a moment of respite, a moment to take in the pleasure before the tension became too much.
Bucky's movements jolted you forward causing you to fully take 18's cock in your mouth, the sounds of both your wet mouth and pussy resonated off the wall of the bedroom.
You were filled on both ends and they could see just how fucked out you were, the way your eyes watered from the pleasure and the undeniable way that they've completed and utterly ruined you.
"That's our good girl." 18 mutters, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair, smiling at the way your lashes flutter up at him as you suck on his cock.
"Taking us so well," Bucky grunts, his hand coming down and slapping the curve of your ass just the way you like it, biting his lip at the way you moaned at the sensation.
Bucky's tip kept hitting that soft and gummy spot of yours, his dick twitching at the way you clenched around him. "Fuck, pretty girl, If you keep squeezing me that-" he moaned, his arms wrapping around your stomach. "I'm gonna cum.." You squeeze him again, your ass tilting up as if to take him in deeper.
"It's too good -" 18 grunts, his fingers caressing your cheek. "You gonna take it, beautiful? My cum?" He says to you sweetly, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear as if he isn't fucking down your throat and you nod, a whimper of want emitting from you.
Bucky's hands grip onto your hips tighter. "And I'm gonna fuck my cum into this tight pussy, baby," he kisses your lower back. "You want that, yeah?" You nod, your whimpers only increasing as your eyes welled with tears. You were so close and all your senses were filled by them everywhere and it was so pleasurable that it was overwhelming.
"Okay, sweetheart, that's it." 18 groans as he slightly pulls back so he can see how his cum pools onto your tongue and you willingly swallow every drop with eagerness.
Bucky quickly pulls you up against him, your back pressed to his chest as his hips desperately rut into you. "Take it like a good girl!" He whispers in your ear, his hand pressed into your throat and his lips kissing into your neck before he groans loudly, cumming deeply into your pussy. Your moan practically, a scream as you cum right along with him, your cunt violently clenching around his cock milking him dry.
The room is filled with heavy pants and reeked of sex as you all dropped onto the bed unceremoniously. All is quiet until you finally speak.
"Oh my God.."
They all breathlessly laugh in disbelief, staring up at the ceiling. "I could get used to this." There's a hum of agreement. A shared sentiment.
Looks like most rules are okay to break after all. Violation or not.
Tag: 18+ content, smut, oral (f and m receiving), kissing, 2 Buckys, basically porn with plot lol, piv sex, unsafe sex, Bucky is deeply in love with reader, mentions of drugs, mentions of death/dying, human science experimentation, mentions of lack of bodily autonomy, cursing, slight violence, jealousy, Bucky being a horndog for Reader, Eiffel tower, happy ending!
Wordcount: 5350
A/n: Did I combine my top two interests? yes, yes, I did. I think I may have exceeded by own expectations with this fic and perhaps this one of my longest pieces that I've written so far? idk maybe. I enjoyed writing even though I took a break in-between since I felt lost with how to lead into the other half of this but I think it turned out decent lol
anyway, enjoy!
Back on earth, Bucky was a loser with nothing tying him down to it. He trusted the wrong people and landed himself in a precarious situation that could very well end with him dead in a landfill - all for a debt that he definitely knew he could never pay back.
So what better way of dealing with that situation than signing his life away, unwittingly.
Maybe he really should've read through the application before signing it off after all - it would've saved him the stress of not knowing he'd be a disposable employee.
But hey, on the bright side he avoided death's permanent embrace back on earth and exchanged it for a constant cycle of painful demise to be printed out again all in the name of the grand human expedition, Niflheim!
But yeah, no. It was not fun. Each death was painful, and the knowledge of the inevitable did not lessen the panic that instinctively reared its head.
He'd essentially become a labrat who had no bodily autonomy to the white coats that studied him every hour on the hour.
Bucky hated it, having to accept his morality and keep in mind that he'll be reprinted within the next 24 hours.
Then there was you. Devastatingly beautiful and all-in-one elite agent, you. You saw something in him that no one else did. You cared about the expendable who had nothing but the clothes on his back.
Who absolutely thought every other person on the spaceship were dickheads who asked him, "What's it like to die?"- he never bothered to answer.
You made his otherwise empty and meaningless life on that damn ship worth it. You showed him that love can be found in the most unlikely of places. In a way, you made him glad to have signed onto the expedition because he wouldn't have met you, and that's saying something for sure.
Besides with all you do as an elite agent who acted as a soldier, a police officer and firefighter made him proud of his one and only job, made him feel a part of the team - or more like he was taking one for the team.
Bucky was utterly and hopelessly in love with you. You were in his one, and only since day one, the memory of the first day you two met vivid like a scene plucked out of a movie - full scale and explicit with lack for better words.
-
The crate he sat on pressed into the back of his thighs and buttocks, the slightest movement pinching his skin as he craned his neck upwards to meet your reverent kiss - your lips the softest he's ever tasted causing him to tighten his hold on your waist.
The cheers of the crowd a distant sound as he stood to press you down on the crate, so he's in between your supple thighs. Your giggle pulled a breathless chuckle from him as he took your breast into his hand, massaging and pinching your nipple to hear those delicious moans that fall from your mouth.
Muffling the sound as he crashes his lips against yours, tasting you as he explores your mouth with the experience of a man discovering heaven for the first time.
Your legs tremble and your back arches as he pushes the back of your thigh to your chest, his hand trailing in between your bodies - a broken gasp filling the air as his fingers graze over your clit.
His cock twitched relentlessly as he looked up and was met with your hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, you were an angel who walked along these shitty spaceship halls and worked jobs that you far exceeded - an angel that he needed to know the taste of.
He descended down your body, keeping eye contact with you before his head hovered above your mound.
You smiled sweetly at him before threading your fingers into his hair and pushing him down to exactly where you needed him, and he let you because he was just as desperate to please you in that way. His hands gripped your hips as your legs fell open and he took your clit into his mouth, suckling on the bundle nerves - his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as you pulled his hair and you breathlessly mewled his name.
Your slick coated his chin and he felt you clench around his fingers as he licked just above his fingers to your clit, your thighs clenched around his head instinctively, your hands clawing the crate beneath you.
"Oh God, Bucky!" He loved how you said his name, your voice like wind chimes against all the unpleasant sounds polluting this hunk of shit for a spaceship.
Your chest heaved as your thighs tightly squeezed, a high-pitched moan ripping from you as you reached your high. He didn't have a moment to catch his breath before you urgently pulled him from his kneeling position and pulled him on top of you, your legs wrapping around his waist, his cock prodding your wet core.
"I want you, please, Bucky." You whispered against his agape mouth, your slick glistening on his lips.
He breathed deeply as he slid himself against your folds, coating his cock in your arousal before he pushed himself into you without a hitch, your wetness allowing him to smoothly enter your wet heat and the guttural groan that pulled from him was instinctive and utterly wrecked.
"Fuck.." He grunted, his hips jerking forward and his hands cradling the back of your head as he pushed his face into your neck.
The heat, the wetness, and your pleasured sounds were all clouding his senses and all he could think about is how much he wanted to cum right now.
He can feel the flush climbing up his neck as the tingling sensation at the base of his dick grew stronger, the urge to release the pressure building and muddling his mind. He needly grabbed your legs, pulling them over his shoulders, your thighs pressing your breasts up as he pounded into you.
His left hand gripped your throat with enough force to be pleasurable, his right circling into your clit chasing both of your highs. His breaths come out in hot huffs against your already heated skin before clenching his jaw tightly.
"Buck, I'm gonna -" He cut you off with a heated kiss before he pulled back with furrowed brows. "I know, sweetheart. Me too -"
You threw your head back, your hands grasping the back of his head desperately as your orgasm crashed over you. As soon as he felt his leftover restraint snap, he bit down on your shoulder, his hands pushing the back on your thighs against your body as his hips pressed into you deeper, warm ropes of his pleasure coating the inner walls of your cunt.
He could hear the last of the announcement in the mess hall - something about banning all sexual activities on the ship. Well shit, there's no stopping him now that he's gotten a taste of you, afterall some rules were just meant to be broken.
-
Speaking of rule breaking. This far exceeded that, setting the whole rule book on fire - this was a violation that would very much result in his permanent deletion.
They had gone ahead and printed his 18th variant thinking that he had died out there in the freezing fucking snow dunes. This bastard was printed 2 hours before he even showed up so now they're both fucked if anyone finds out that they're multiples.
"I've gotta kill you." Bucky 18 says roughly, grabbing his heavyweight that sat next to the bed.
"Like hell you are," Bucky snaps as he points at his multiple. "You should kill yourself if one of us has to die."
"Fuck that, I was just printed," 18 argues, circling around the bedroom. "I've barely had a life."
Bucky runs over the bed, yelling in protest. "Well, I was never dead, so you don't count," He hurries to the room door. "Go back to the cycler!"
18 quickly runs after him, reeling his arm back and throwing the weight at him, hitting him on the back of his skull with a hefty thump.
Bucky was down for the count as darkness enveloped his vision, his body slumping heavily.
Out of all the ways to go out, countless deaths he could have gone through, this was probably the second most infuriating way to die - the first being dying over and over from the air-borne virus he had to suffer through until they finally found the vaccine.
It wasn't fair first of all, he didn't die so he shouldn't have to be the one to jump into the cycler but unfortunately for him his duplicate was a psychopath who was just as scared of being a multiple.
How could this be his multiple? Bucky 18 was a piece of work.
He remembered when you told him about the different versions of himself; Bucky 3 was whiny and clingy, 9 was indecisive and 12 was pretty stoic and concerningly machine-esque but none of them were complete nutjobs like 18.
He was gonna kill 18 for thinking he can try to trash him in the cycler, the very thought pissed him off as his fingers circled around the weight that laid on the trash bag in front of him.
When 18 finally reached the cycler room, he crouched in front of the cycler that radiated heat from the lava below.
He seemed lost in thought as he looked down the hole - was he hesitating? What was doing through that fucker's head? He wasn't like him at all, he seemed like an entirely different person by comparison..
Did the transfer of his personality traits fuck up this time around when it came to 18?
The questions caused him to hesitate as he held the weight above him, intending to smash it over 18's head.
18's head snapped back swiftly, causing Bucky to freeze, his body locking up instinctively as he made eye contact with his own blue eyes.
It was creepy and it sent shivers down his spine, this version seemed to have more of a backbone and a taste for bloodlust as 18 slaps him followed by a punch to the stomach before he pushes Bucky over the cycler.
Bucky holds onto the ledge, preventing 18 from pushing him further down the hole. "Half it! half it!" He struggles to say.
18 grips onto Bucky's neck. "What?" He grunts, pausing.
"Half it, half!" Bucky breathlessly said, his fingers still gripping the edge of the cycler. "I'll half it with you,"
18 stares down at him, Bucky continues. "I'll half the rations. We could split the workload, too," He says quickly. "And we can take turns dying." Bucky hopes this asshole can hear reason in this suggestion. He really didn't want to die. Not like this, definitely not like this.
18 tightens his grip, pushing against Bucky's neck towards the hole, Bucky grunts loudly, tightening his hold. "And you're 18, so you can take all the even numbers," he negotiates rapidly. "And I-I'll just cover, like, 19, 21, and the odd numbers."
18 sneers out with a glare. "Are you afraid to die?"
Bucky nods against 18's grip around his neck. "Kinda, yeah."
"You died plenty of times. What are you so scared of?" 18 asks, a mocking edge to his tone.
"Until now, I died, and I was just born again, you know?" Bucky gulps deeply. "It felt like it was me continuing on," he takes shallow quick breaths. "But now, once I die, it'll be over for me. It'll be you living on. You get what I mean?"
18 squints incredulously, removing his hands from Bucky's neck pulling back, allowing Bucky to sit up. "I don't like you," he raspily says "You're such a little bitch."
Bucky points at 18, a self deprecated smile on his lips. "But I'm you."
"I'm not you," 18 says pointedly. "I'm not gonna live like you. I'm gonna kill you!" 18 lunges forward, pushing Bucky back. Bucky screams panickedly, his arms and legs spreading outward to hold onto the cycler's ledges.
18 looks back quickly as he hears the oncoming cleaner whistling down the hall towards the cycler room. He grabs Bucky, pulling him up and dragging him to hide off somewhere out of sight.
They watched silently as the cleaner traded off the pure uncut oxy.
18 leaned over Bucky, his weight pressing the other man down before he finally tried to shove him with annoyance. 18 smacked him on his head injury in retaliation, causing Bucky to hiss in pain.
"Fuckin asshole, that hurt!" he whispered aggressively, 18 only tilted his head at the scene playing out infront of them.
Bucky wasn't all too interested. Instances like these happen more often than anyone was willing to admit.
A little diluted oxy to take off the edge when relaxing in your cabin was fine and dandy but the pure, uncut stuff was not only highly addictive but hard to come by, seeing as you could only retrieve them from their allotted flamethrowers.
Two Oxyzofol capsules per flamethrower. And you'd better hope you don't get caught by weapons. They were possessive of their weaponry.
"Shut up, 17." Bucky glared before he heard the sound of footsteps descending the stairs from the floor above.
"What the fuck is going on here?" You. Your voice resonated throughout the cycler room with authority as you caught sight of the dealers, your co-worker following close behind.
"Are you serious, Pip? Again?" You asked with exasperation dripping off your tone, your hand snatching the oxy capsule from his hand. He stammered with excuses, but you stared back with an unmoved expression.
Bucky practically swooned at the sight of you. He loved that look on you, the look you gave when you didn't want to deal with bullshit.
You were so hot in your agent uniform, your pants fitted just right hugging your hips and your weapon holsters snugly wrapped around your thighs, accentuating the suppleness of them.
His eyes trailed up above him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he looked at 18 and the way his multiple bit down on his lip, the former’s eyes taking in the sight of you confirmed his fear. His counterpart also was majorly attracted to you, as every other him before him did.
It only pissed him off further, his elbow rearing back and ramming into 18's stomach, causing the other man to stumble back.
18 recollected himself within a split second, his fist coming down on Bucky's head right where his injury lay, again. He swears that he has a concussion as he feels his vision blur around the edges.
During their small scuffle, your voice called out in confusion.
"Anyone there?" Bucky held his breath, stilling in fear. Oh God, no. You can't see both of them here, there's too many people here.
Before he could react, 18 stumbles out within your line of sight.
"Bucky? Baby, what're you doing here?" You ask softly, your head tilting slightly in confusion.
18 walked closer to you, his arm wrapping around your waist. "I was asked to throw out some scrap. Did I miss something?"
Your hand trailed up 18's back with affectionate concern. "No, everything's fine, but you should've stayed in bed," you sigh lightly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "It's only been a couple of hours since you've been printed."
18 chuckles, shaking his head sheepishly. "Yeah, I should’ve."
Your co-worker turned to you, his hands holding onto the cuffs of the cleaner. "Y/n, you should take Bucky home," he sighs. "I'll wrap everything up once I get Pip to detainment."
You nod, a smile on your lips. "Yes, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow." You wave, walking off with 18.
Your flirty smile and fluttering lashes are directed at 18 as the two of you walk back towards the cabin area.
His heart is pounding wildly in his ears as he catches sight of the way 18 is fondling your ass with no shame whatsoever, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers sweet nothings to you as if he wasn't a walking violation.
No, no, no. That bastard was practically drooling over you as you seductively whispered that you were in the mood for your preferred position of the night.
Bucky breathing picked up as he sulked along the walls, hidden from view as he followed the pair of you, a string of curses falling from his mouth as he watched 18 growl in your ear and pulled your hips into him.
Your giggles high pitched in giddiness. "This isn't like you, Bucky!" Yeah, because it wasn't him. It was an asshole version of him - he thought somberly.
He looked on as you laughed, running up the staircase with 18 close on your heels, intending to follow close behind to prevent what he feared most.
But just as he was about to ascend the staircase, his name was called and he was dragged off away from you - the light dying behind his eyes and his soul floating out of his body from devastation.
This is the moment he dies. That asshole's grubby hands are gonna be all over your beautiful body.. he could just sob in jealousy right now.
'My beautiful y/n..'
Today was definitely ranked numero uno for the worst day of his life, and he was gonna kill 18 for it.
-
The cabin room’s door rattled as he slid it back, stepping into the room. His jaw was clenched, and his shoulders taut as he mentally prepared to fully walk into the bedroom area. He could already imagine the image of himself towering over your nude body, 18’s hands gripping the fullness of your hips as he kissed up your neck towards your kiss, bruised lips.
He took a deep breath as he ripped off the metaphorical band aid of fumbling nerves, stepping past the wall into clear view of their bed but instead of being met with the dreaded view of your naked body intertwined with 18's, his eyes widen as your hands cup his cheeks with both awe and a soft eagerness.
"17," you breathe out, your eyes wide. "I knew this would happen eventually."
The bathroom door slides open, revealing a shirtless 18, his counterpart looking him up and down with an amused smirk.
"Stand next to each other," you say, your hand reaching for 18 and pulling him closer to Bucky.
"Take this off, buck." Your hands undo the buttons on his shirt, his eyes dropping to your movement in confusion. "What?"
"I want you to look the same." You smile, helping him lift his shirt up his arms and off his body.
Your mouth drops in astonishment as 18 chuckles and drapes his arm around Bucky's shoulders, Bucky only looks between you and 18 with furrowed brows, his confusion permeating off of him in waves.
This situation couldn't be more bizarre, and he's as frazzled as could be with his whole jealously over himself touching you, but this isn't at all how he thought you would react. He expected you to be scared or perhaps anxious, but you're more on the fascinated and excited spectrum.
He does that knot of nervousness in his chest loosen, his head dropping to where your hand laid, smooth and warm on his pec, his eyes trailing back up to meet yours.
Your smile is affectionate and bright, your eyes glowing with a light that's only reserved for him.
"Y/n.. h-how are you so calm about this?" His voice carries that tinge of uneasiness, his hand instinctively gripping your hand. "This is a Multiples Violation. I-I’m good as dead!"
You shake your head. "Not if they don't know, besides," You look between the two of them. "18 told me that you guys sorted this out already."
Bucky bottom lip juts out as his eyes narrow at the other man, 18 blinks lazily, ignoring his stare intentionally.
"Eat half, work half," you say sternly, pointing at the pair. "Alternating deaths, evens and odds." You sigh lightly as you brush your hair behind your ear.
"I can't bear the thought of either of you dying for good, so I'll feed you both as often as I can," your voice determined, and your stare just as strong. "So be good boys, and don't fight."
18 smiles slyly, nodding, and it makes Bucky want to punch him square in the ear just cause.
You clap your hands together with a finality. "Good system. Now chill." You say, walking to the other side of the room.
Your hands unbutton your pants and slide it down your smooth legs with an air of unbothered ness, though your form carried a hint of exhaustion from a day that dragged on too long.
He felt guilty that at a time like this, the sight of your bare legs shot right down to his dick and he wanted nothing more than to have you bent over your shared bed
The only problem was the piece of shit sitting right next to him now. 18 leaning back on his hand with his legs, man-spread as his eyes trailed over your half-naked body with a hunger he was all too familiar with.
There wasn't a time that you and him didn't have your hands on each other, with your responsibilities as an agent and his constant trips to the lab to be experimented on, there was long periods of not being able to have alone time and he already felt deprived of your touch. he's not sure if he had the willpower to put off sex while his multiple was around, even though the thought of sharing you was off putting..perhaps he could adapt.
18 was still him despite their differences, though there were obvious gaps in personalities, 18 would know every kink and cranny of you as he did. It could be beneficial.
The bed dipped as you knelt in between the two of them, Bucky's hand settling on your lower back, his fingers soothing that persistent ache you often carried after a long day of work.
You sigh contentedly before humming when 18 massages the nape of your neck affectionately.
Bucky can admit that 18 was quite soft when it came to you despite thinking he's an asshole - he can see 18 loved you too, there wasn't a doubt about it.
"My boys, you're too sweet.." Your voice drips with a sweetness that settles deep in their bones, your body pliant under their touch.
He can feel himself getting harder at how breathlessly you say it and he closes his eyes as he breathes in deeply, it's crazy just how much of a sex fiend he is since he's been with you. It's unfair how you're laying right in front of him in just your small panties and your lacy black bra - the straps falling off your shoulders in that way that just drives him insane.
His eyes trail to 18 and their gazes meet, they share a knowing look - Knowing in a way that their resistance is thinning. Yeah, they certainly are counterparts for damn sure with how in sync their train of thought is.
Easy as breathing, they were kissing up the length of your back, your body tensing at the unexpected moment, a shudder running up your spine. He grows tired of being subtle as his hands grip your hips, jutting you upwards on your knees, your ass pressed against his hard on.
18 slides in front of you as he kissed from the crook of your neck to your mouth, a surprised gasp tumbling from your parted lips. 18's tongue gliding along your bottom lip before he tentatively pulled you deeper into the kiss.
Your breathing picked up as you felt Bucky's knowing hands expertly undid your bra, the piece falling from your chest, and he didn't waste a second before his hand smoothes over your torso to your breasts. His top half leaned over you as his fingers tweaked your nipples, his print deviously pressed harder into the curve of your ass.
You moaned into 18's mouth, your hand gliding from his bare chest down to his crotch, his brows furrowing in a pleasured expression.
"I don't know about you, 18," Bucky says lowly, one hand playing from your nipple and the other traveling to between your legs, pushing your panties to the side "but I think our girl needs some stress relief."
18 grins against your lips before he moves to your neck, licking and nipping the sensitive skin right under your ear.
"Couldn't have said it better myself." He answers back, his smile only widening as Bucky's fingers graze over your sensitive clit, teasing you with light touches, your moans becoming whimpers of pleading.
"Is that what you want, baby?" Bucky whispers down to you, watching as 18 grips your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye."Go on, sweetheart. Answer him." 18 smugly says, kissing your cheeks.
Your breath comes out in shudders as you try to answer through the pleasure that resonated from your clit, Bucky's fingers now relentless against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Plea-please, I want it. More than anything!" Your desperation bleeds through your words, fumbling fingers and pleading eyes.
You were absolutely beautiful in this light, so wrecked and so pliable and under their mercy. During the day, you were so full of strength and a pillar of reliability but at night, in your shared bed, you were so pleading and gorgeously disheveled in your display of pleasure, just the way he loved it.
Bucky groans as he presses himself harder into you, his lips trailing down your back. He was so turned on that he didn't know just how much more he could take. Your wetness coated his fingers as he played with your clit, your legs quivering and your hips twitching as you felt yourself edging closer to that release.
A strong moan ripped from your mouth as 18 took your nipple into his mouth, his other hand giving equal attention to your other breast. "Oh my God!" Your hands gripping onto 18's shoulders to keep balance from falling forwards.
"Come on, baby. I know you're close." Bucky's voice comes out rough as his arm wraps around your waist, keeping you pushed up against his hips, his fingers unyielding as he pushes his middle finger into your core, the heel of his palm slapping against your clit causing your eyes to roll back and your moans to come out ragged.
"Please! Don't stop!" They don't. They know the tell-tale signs of your orgasm, the way your voice pitches, and the way your body tenses so deliciously.
Your back arches, your hands clutching 18 closer to your chest desperately and a broken shriek escapes you as you cum, your legs trembling and your mouth falling open as you try catching your breath.
18 litters your face with soft kisses, your eyes fluttering, and a satisfied smile graces your lips, breathing out a sigh as you feel Bucky massages your hips and the side of your thighs.
"You did good, baby doll." 18 says, brushing back your hair from your damp forehead.
Your hand reaches back for Bucky's hand, and he readily takes it, kissing your knuckles with a reverent affection. "It's your turn, boys"
They gaze at you for a second before slightly leaning to the side to share a look - 18 raises a brow, a question that Bucky knows the answer to, he nods to the former.
"If you say so, baby." Bucky chuckles as he lifts you upright, positioning you just right so the both of them can tower over you.
Bucky standing behind you and 18 positioned right in front of your face, his groin at eye level with you.
Your fingers pulled down the waistband of his pants slowly, enjoying the way 18 looks down with a look of anticipation and eagerness, his teeth biting down on his plush bottom lip. Finally his cock was free of his boxers, bouncing up and erect just for you and you don’t waste so much time, kissing his tip.
It was the exact replica of Bucky's, the two sharing every detail possible with the other. From the veins that adorned their solid dicks to the very specific color of their tips and as you licked the bead of precum that beaded like a small pearl on the slit, it tasted exactly the same.
Bucky watched as you kissed and kitten licked at his multiple's cock and he couldn't help the small cloud of jealousy brewing inside of him but a smirk pulled at his lips as he pushed himself into you with no warning, a self satisfied feeling washing over him as you gasped in sudden pleasure, your hand gripping the bed's comforter.
They both released a guttural groan as Bucky bottomed out in your tight pussy and 18 felt the way your warm tongue licked up his length before taking him into your mouth.
There was a moment of respite, a moment to take in the pleasure before the tension became too much.
Bucky's movements jolted you forward causing you to fully take 18's cock in your mouth, the sounds of both your wet mouth and pussy resonated off the wall of the bedroom.
You were filled on both ends and they could see just how fucked out you were, the way your eyes watered from the pleasure and the undeniable way that they've completed and utterly ruined you.
"That's our good girl." 18 mutters, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair, smiling at the way your lashes flutter up at him as you suck on his cock.
"Taking us so well," Bucky grunts, his hand coming down and slapping the curve of your ass just the way you like it, biting his lip at the way you moaned at the sensation.
Bucky's tip kept hitting that soft and gummy spot of yours, his dick twitching at the way you clenched around him. "Fuck, pretty girl, If you keep squeezing me that-" he moaned, his arms wrapping around your stomach. "I'm gonna cum.." You squeeze him again, your ass tilting up as if to take him in deeper.
"It's too good -" 18 grunts, his fingers caressing your cheek. "You gonna take it, beautiful? My cum?" He says to you sweetly, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear as if he isn't fucking down your throat and you nod, a whimper of want emitting from you.
Bucky's hands grip onto your hips tighter. "And I'm gonna fuck my cum into this tight pussy, baby," he kisses your lower back. "You want that, yeah?" You nod, your whimpers only increasing as your eyes welled with tears. You were so close and all your senses were filled by them everywhere and it was so pleasurable that it was overwhelming.
"Okay, sweetheart, that's it." 18 groans as he slightly pulls back so he can see how his cum pools onto your tongue and you willingly swallow every drop with eagerness.
Bucky quickly pulls you up against him, your back pressed to his chest as his hips desperately rut into you. "Take it like a good girl!" He whispers in your ear, his hand pressed into your throat and his lips kissing into your neck before he groans loudly, cumming deeply into your pussy. Your moan practically, a scream as you cum right along with him, your cunt violently clenching around his cock milking him dry.
The room is filled with heavy pants and reeked of sex as you all dropped onto the bed unceremoniously. All is quiet until you finally speak.
"Oh my God.."
They all breathlessly laugh in disbelief, staring up at the ceiling. "I could get used to this." There's a hum of agreement. A shared sentiment.
Looks like most rules are okay to break after all. Violation or not.
A/n: I've decided to write a small crack piece that connects to my series: A soldier's recovery. It's pretty heavy and angst centered, so before the 3rd part, here's a funny light-hearted moment ♥️
And yes, I indeed just ate a chicken chalupa when I thought of this one shot lol
(Pretend the gif is a chicken chulupa 😭)
Usually you don't like ordering fast food, preferring to cook easy meals at home but you were feeling particularly lazy today since your workload was stressing you out more than usual.
You decided that taco bell would just do just fine - a chicken chalupa and a small Baja blast, nothing too extravagant and a quick meal to hold you over till you finally muster enough energy to cook a healthier dinner.
You sit on the couch with your legs crossed, the TV droning on with a random show you absentmindedly picked on Netflix.
Soldier sat in his usual spot on the floor, his back pressed against the couch, and his eyes locked on the TV with a blank expression, his eyebrows sometimes twitching and head tilting when something unexpected happened.
You take small sips from your soda, not yet unwrapping your chalupa as you watch him with a small smile.
He's clearly in a better mood today - he's usually a lot more reserved and stuck in a hazy headspace but he's here wrapped with his favorite blanket (you assume it's his favorite) wrapped around his hunched shoulders, watching whatever dumb TV show you put on.
It lifted that metaphorical weight from your shoulders with a prideful grace.
As you place your drink to the side, unwrapping your chalupa casually, you take a small bite - it's not bad, it's better than the usually soggy regular tacos. The shell was crunchy enough, and the chicken was decently seasoned. You nod to yourself, giving your stamp of approval.
As you chew, you look at the TV before you feel his stare, you slow your chewing as your head turns gradually towards him.
He's staring from the corner of his eye, and you couldn't help but be reminded of those funny videos of dogs who are begging for food but try not to make it obvious.
Staring at the food from the corner of their eye and they glance away when their human catches them looking, and it makes you almost choke on your chicken chalupa.
You jut out your bottom lip as you find it really cute. He's interested in the food you're eating, and you really don't have it in your heart to not offer him some.
So you smile, leaning forward, grabbing your chalupa and holding your other hand underneath it to catch any crumbs as you hold it towards his face.
"Try it, Soldier," you insist gently, gesturing your head towards the taco.
His mouth is slightly agape, and his eyes are wide as he looks from you and the food item in your hand.
You tilt your head harmlessly with a kind smile, having more than enough patience for him since you definitely know he wants to try it.
You nod towards it. "It's good, I promise," his lips press into a line before he's leaning forward.
He takes a smile bite, but he gets more than enough of its contents to taste fully.
It's going great, more than you expected, and you almost grin in relief before you see his eyes glaze over.
"W-what's happening right now?" You say, your brows furrowing, your eyes jumping from the chalupa to him.
"Oh my God, did I just kill him?!" You ask yourself as you drop the taco onto the wrapper.
It was almost like the flavors put him into shock, almost reminiscent to a Victorian child experiencing spices for the first time and your hands are hovering over him, trying not to jump out of your skin in horror.
It's not long before his soul finally finds its way back into his body, a consciousness making its way into his eyes.
"Can i-i have more?" He asks, his eyes wide and back straight.
You almost collapse from relief, a laugh of incredulity passing your lips as you press your hand on your forehead.
"Oh sweetheart, of course. I just hope you don't want the Baja blast.. I don't think you'll survive that.."
A/n: I've decided to write a small crack piece that connects to my series: A soldier's recovery. It's pretty heavy and angst centered, so before the 3rd part, here's a funny light-hearted moment ♥️
And yes, I indeed just ate a chicken chalupa when I thought of this one shot lol
(Pretend the gif is a chicken chulupa 😭)
Usually you don't like ordering fast food, preferring to cook easy meals at home but you were feeling particularly lazy today since your workload was stressing you out more than usual.
You decided that taco bell would just do just fine - a chicken chalupa and a small Baja blast, nothing too extravagant and a quick meal to hold you over till you finally muster enough energy to cook a healthier dinner.
You sit on the couch with your legs crossed, the TV droning on with a random show you absentmindedly picked on Netflix.
Soldier sat in his usual spot on the floor, his back pressed against the couch, and his eyes locked on the TV with a blank expression, his eyebrows sometimes twitching and head tilting when something unexpected happened.
You take small sips from your soda, not yet unwrapping your chalupa as you watch him with a small smile.
He's clearly in a better mood today - he's usually a lot more reserved and stuck in a hazy headspace but he's here wrapped with his favorite blanket (you assume it's his favorite) wrapped around his hunched shoulders, watching whatever dumb TV show you put on.
It lifted that metaphorical weight from your shoulders with a prideful grace.
As you place your drink to the side, unwrapping your chalupa casually, you take a small bite - it's not bad, it's better than the usually soggy regular tacos. The shell was crunchy enough, and the chicken was decently seasoned. You nod to yourself, giving your stamp of approval.
As you chew, you look at the TV before you feel his stare, you slow your chewing as your head turns gradually towards him.
He's staring from the corner of his eye, and you couldn't help but be reminded of those funny videos of dogs who are begging for food but try not to make it obvious.
Staring at the food from the corner of their eye and they glance away when their human catches them looking, and it makes you almost choke on your chicken chalupa.
You jut out your bottom lip as you find it really cute. He's interested in the food you're eating, and you really don't have it in your heart to not offer him some.
So you smile, leaning forward, grabbing your chalupa and holding your other hand underneath it to catch any crumbs as you hold it towards his face.
"Try it, Soldier," you insist gently, gesturing your head towards the taco.
His mouth is slightly agape, and his eyes are wide as he looks from you and the food item in your hand.
You tilt your head harmlessly with a kind smile, having more than enough patience for him since you definitely know he wants to try it.
You nod towards it. "It's good, I promise," his lips press into a line before he's leaning forward.
He takes a smile bite, but he gets more than enough of its contents to taste fully.
It's going great, more than you expected, and you almost grin in relief before you see his eyes glaze over.
"W-what's happening right now?" You say, your brows furrowing, your eyes jumping from the chalupa to him.
"Oh my God, did I just kill him?!" You ask yourself as you drop the taco onto the wrapper.
It was almost like the flavors put him into shock, almost reminiscent to a Victorian child experiencing spices for the first time and your hands are hovering over him, trying not to jump out of your skin in horror.
It's not long before his soul finally finds its way back into his body, a consciousness making its way into his eyes.
"Can i-i have more?" He asks, his eyes wide and back straight.
You almost collapse from relief, a laugh of incredulity passing your lips as you press your hand on your forehead.
"Oh sweetheart, of course. I just hope you don't want the Baja blast.. I don't think you'll survive that.."
A/n: I've decided to write a small crack piece that connects to my series: A soldier's recovery. It's pretty heavy and angst centered, so before the 3rd part, here's a funny light-hearted moment ♥️
And yes, I indeed just ate a chicken chalupa when I thought of this one shot lol
(Pretend the gif is a chicken chulupa 😭)
Usually you don't like ordering fast food, preferring to cook easy meals at home but you were feeling particularly lazy today since your workload was stressing you out more than usual.
You decided that taco bell would just do just fine - a chicken chalupa and a small Baja blast, nothing too extravagant and a quick meal to hold you over till you finally muster enough energy to cook a healthier dinner.
You sit on the couch with your legs crossed, the TV droning on with a random show you absentmindedly picked on Netflix.
Soldier sat in his usual spot on the floor, his back pressed against the couch, and his eyes locked on the TV with a blank expression, his eyebrows sometimes twitching and head tilting when something unexpected happened.
You take small sips from your soda, not yet unwrapping your chalupa as you watch him with a small smile.
He's clearly in a better mood today - he's usually a lot more reserved and stuck in a hazy headspace but he's here wrapped with his favorite blanket (you assume it's his favorite) wrapped around his hunched shoulders, watching whatever dumb TV show you put on.
It lifted that metaphorical weight from your shoulders with a prideful grace.
As you place your drink to the side, unwrapping your chalupa casually, you take a small bite - it's not bad, it's better than the usually soggy regular tacos. The shell was crunchy enough, and the chicken was decently seasoned. You nod to yourself, giving your stamp of approval.
As you chew, you look at the TV before you feel his stare, you slow your chewing as your head turns gradually towards him.
He's staring from the corner of his eye, and you couldn't help but be reminded of those funny videos of dogs who are begging for food but try not to make it obvious.
Staring at the food from the corner of their eye and they glance away when their human catches them looking, and it makes you almost choke on your chicken chalupa.
You jut out your bottom lip as you find it really cute. He's interested in the food you're eating, and you really don't have it in your heart to not offer him some.
So you smile, leaning forward, grabbing your chalupa and holding your other hand underneath it to catch any crumbs as you hold it towards his face.
"Try it, Soldier," you insist gently, gesturing your head towards the taco.
His mouth is slightly agape, and his eyes are wide as he looks from you and the food item in your hand.
You tilt your head harmlessly with a kind smile, having more than enough patience for him since you definitely know he wants to try it.
You nod towards it. "It's good, I promise," his lips press into a line before he's leaning forward.
He takes a small bite, but he gets more than enough of its contents to taste fully.
It's going great, more than you expected, and you almost grin in relief before you see his eyes glaze over.
"W-what's happening right now?" You say, your brows furrowing, your eyes jumping from the chalupa to him.
"Oh my God, did I just kill him?!" You ask yourself as you drop the taco onto the wrapper.
It was almost like the flavors put him into shock, almost reminiscent to a Victorian child experiencing spices for the first time and your hands are hovering over him, trying not to jump out of your skin in horror.
It's not long before his soul finally finds its way back into his body, a consciousness making its way into his eyes.
"Can i-i have more?" He asks, his eyes wide and back straight.
You almost collapse from relief, a laugh of incredulity passing your lips as you press your hand on your forehead.
"Oh sweetheart, of course. I just hope you don't want the Baja blast.. I don't think you'll survive that.."
Synopsis: You knew him as the Winter Soldier - the asset who was the main tool to your constant torment while under the control of Hydra. Now you've met James Buchanan Barnes - a man who has similar scars that match your own. A conflict you find yourself having to face.
Word Count: 1234
Tags: angst, Canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, mentions of torture, former widow reader, former Winter Soldier Bucky, emotional vulnerability, trauma,
A/n: Here's some hurt/comfort widow reader x bucky before I get to my soldier series + smut piece. I like to think that I did well with the parallels, I was kinda playing my hand at them, and I hope it paid off, lol. Anyway enjoy ❤️
You can still taste the sharp tang of iron on your tongue, the constricting hold on your throat as he held you down into submission. The icy frost of his eyes piercing, sinking viciously until it reached the deepest part of you, the core only he could make an impact on, and that fact proved only to further scare you.
The unrelenting force of metal on the delicate curve of your neck stirred those feelings of helplessness and terrifying inferiority. It accumulated in your chest like a sickness as you kicked your legs against him. It was no use. It never was.
The Winter Soldier was merciless, and you should’ve done better to avoid their wrath, try to impede this punishment of having to face off their best asset. Should’ve tried harder to avoid his unfaltering grasp, but you were..
“Sloppy. Again.”
An aggravated yell ripped from your lips, reaching behind his head and grasping his hair with an unforgiving rage, snapping his head back with the force.
He grunted, his grip on you faltering and giving you enough leeway to break away from him and driving your sharp elbow into his temple.
The edges of your vision pulsated with red hot furor, his voice and his cut-throat words left surgeon like cuts; practiced and irritatingly clinical, a constant reminder of the white-coats behind those imposing steel doors.
You hated him and his indecipherable countenance. He never gave anything away, and the moment when it seemed like he was, it was fleeting.
It only proved to fuel that ember into a fire, just dying to catch flame and burn against the coldness that hung spitefully within the barebone bunker.
The memories clung to you like a shadow. No matter how much you tried to wash it from your skin, it was a part of you.
It both built you up and destroyed you.
You wished the nicotine from your cigarette dissolved that acrid taste, but it stayed heavy, insistent. Just like him.
You felt his presence long before he stepped up next to you. He didn't bother to say anything, his body settling heavily against the rooftop railing.
The air is always thick with words unspoken, an electric current weaving between them - memories of the other almost overbearing like rapidly cooling adamantium settling oppressively in their bones.
He was nothing like the Winter Soldier, the man that stood before you carried his guilt and regret like an unwanted badge. He was much easier to read, his vulnerability draped over his weary shoulders.
It was a hard pill to swallow - hard to accept this new reality - hard to see past him when all you used to see was an empty space where his soul should have been. In its place was a soul, a broken and battered one but achingly, it was in view now.
This wasn't the Winter Soldier. This was James Buchanan Barnes.
How cruel.
It was cruel that your anger is now misplaced, lingers within your chest cavity like an ache that staggers your breath whenever you make eye contact with him. You don't miss the hitch of his when he looks back.
Your heart aches. It was all so confusing, and it was like static obscuring your senses when it came to him - what were the right responses?
His head hangs as he clutches his hands together tightly. That was one thing you could rely on; his silence. He was never one for words, and it seems that's the case even now.
You breathe out the leftover smoke lingering in your lungs, your lips pressing into a thin line. You've also never been one for words either, one in the same.
Having so much to say but not having the strength to, it was the bane of your existence.
You lightly nudge your shoulder against his, extending your cigarette towards him. You avoid his eyes as you offer your metaphorical olive branch. He falters before he accepts it, his touch both hesitant and docile.
So unlike his counterpart.
“You aren't him. Not anymore, James,” You speak softly. “There's no blame to place.”
The smoke curls from his mouth, a haze floating over his head. “We both know what I did. What I did to you,” his voice is above a whisper. “I see it every time I look at you.”
He's been looking at you with that look for months now, a festering wound of a look and it always sent an unfamiliar sensation throughout your body- your hair stood on end and your nose burned as if your body was gearing up to cry.
Your chest felt like it was constricting, and you instinctively turned your head away. “We both have a lot of red in our ledger, Barnes.” The words were almost bitter. “But I see a different man, one I don't know.”
The crack in your voice was unintentional, but you knew he caught it. The misery was breaking through, and you felt as if you were drowning in the moment.
You only knew the asset, the mindless machine, the cut-throat assassin that would pin you down into demeaning submission.
When he says your name, it sends a shiver throughout your body but it's nothing compared to the indescribable feeling that takes hold as gently turns your head back towards him, the warmth of his flesh hand seeping into your skin.
He wipes away the tears that you didn't even notice slipped out, and your lip trembled before you bit down on it.
“I'm so sorry.” His voice is rough with emotion, his watery eyes practically glowing under the streaming rays of the full moon.
You're weak, so damn vulnerable as you're met with sight of his soul again.
Your fingers tremble as you pluck the cigarette from his metal hand, doing little to prevent yourself from touching the very hand that pressed into your neck with domineering essence.
The nicotine coated your tongue, no trace of that acrid tang of iron to be found as you puff away the vulnerability, meeting his gaze.
The smile that pulls that at the corner of your lips isn't as heavy, not as hollow as it usually is as you find yourself mirroring his position, nodding.
“Thank you, James,” your voice drops into a whisper as you lean into him. “I needed that more than I thought.”
You feel him press his side against you as his head falls onto his arm. “I'll say as many times as I need to,” he doesn't bother to hide the vulnerability in his voice. “I'll say it every day, do anything you need me to.”
You're quick to correct him. “You're a free man now, James.” You needed to remind him that he's free to make amends on his own terms. He was no longer a vacant asset. “We're free. I'm glad that you're here.”
That fire that burned with hate for the Winter Soldier quelled in the presence of James Barnes.
It was a truth that you're willing to live with.
The man that stood before you, who was abused by the same hands that damaged you, he was akin to you in ways that mattered.
“I accept you.” You say honestly, deciding that he was one of your own now.
The breath he releases is deep as he nods, his hands shaking.
“Thank you,” he says breathlessly. “I needed that more than you think.”
Synopsis: You navigate the frangible situation of harboring the Winter Soldier within the confines of your quaint apartment. Stepping in between the lines of trust and recovery for the soldier, you fear that you may have bit off more than you can chew.
Word Count: 3211
Tags: Winter Soldier!Bucky, mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, trauma and slight recovery, mentions of torture, mentions of canon-typical violence, angst, self-destructive behavior, ill mental health, depiction of injury
A/N: I couldn't even tell you where I pulled this from, I've been getting my ass kicked by lack of motivation recently, so pls, forgive me if it's lacking some zest or it's absolute trash lol I tried my best so here's some Soldier content.
Your life became starkly different compared to before your Soldier's appearance. Your old life consisted of long hours of collecting, cleaning and analyzing data in the poor excuse of a corner where you keep your computer setup, the routine almost driving you up a wall as you desperately tried to hold on to your sanity staring at the blue screen.
Your outside life inconsequential where it really counted, you trudged on without much substance to your life, every day life unusually bland and repetitious. Work day in and day out without so much as a companion to keep you company.
However since he's came along and you've gotten used to his quiet presence to the point you no longer tiptoed around him in fear you'd spook him back into a corner, he just may have been the reason you haven't gone mad from the unvarying tasks of your day job, his nearness making up for his lack of speech.
He's in his own way gravitated towards you- Almost as if he was resource guarding you, close with the desire to safeguard the only soul providing for him but faltering as if getting too close would scald his skin, fear clinging to him so tightly he's closed within himself.
Fearfulness shrouds him, a collar that inches into his skin if he so much as turns his neck in an attempt to breathe. Fear shown in the way he became deathly still when there was an unknown sound outside the apartment, his body tensing as if he was prepared for a fight that was bound to happen, it showed in those moments when he was silent but followed you, as if he imprinted on you and he'd somehow lose sight of you if he didn't linger.
He was diligent, his oceanic eyes sharp with an unreadable depth and what you could only describe as trepidation, awaiting the moment you bared your teeth and your hand struck down with resentment against him.
But you'd never.
It's like a gentle ebb, his presence, the weight of his stare profound though not uncomfortable. It's intimate in a way, you do not hide from his gaze as it traces over you, open with full transparency for his sake and peace of mind with hopes that he'll further trust his well being in your capable hands, his recovery taking precedence the more time passes.
He's in no way recovered enough for you to consider him self-sufficient, but he's made progress. Such progress that you can't help the small praises, the words of encouragement falling from your lips subconsciously and despite his lack of a response, the quick flicker of his eyes is enough for you to keep doing so.
And like just like every other day he watches your every move, observing your day-to-day tasks with a close eye as if he's trying to compute it all, almost like he's compartmentalized in his head for later, and you let him, softly speaking to him as you show him what you're doing.
"I think you should eat some fruit, Soldier. Some vitamin C would do you good," you murmur as you cut the fruit with nimble fingers, his body close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him in waves. You become a little distracted as you look up for a second as you notice him closer than expected from your peripheral, causing your hand to slip and the knife to nick your finger.
You hiss from the sharp pain, the stinging immediate from the oranges acidic juice seeping into the cut, your thought process is immediately cut short as you feel him urgently pull your hand closer to him and you can't help but feel a prick of guilt needling your heart at the way his brows are harshly furrowed and his lips downturns into a frown.
"вы ранены." His voice is rough and low, speaking quietly as if he weren't allowed to speak at all and you revel in it, his voice causing a smile to pull at your lips in habit but it soon falters "Soldier, I don't understand.." his grip only slightly tightens on your hand, his head lowered to inspect the weeping cut with a keen eye before the word tumbles from his mouth, an accent heavy on his tongue as he sweeps his finger over the cut inspecting your blood coating over his calloused finger.
"Hurt.. you are hurt." He clarified, a shadow casted over his eyes as he met your curious gaze and it sent a shiver down your spine seeing the icy depths of his stormy blues, how much he can express with just those cerulean eyes with no need of words.
But to hear him utter those words was beyond relieving, so far he's only spoken to you in russian and you lacked the proper vocabulary to properly communicate with him, only understanding 'yes' or 'no' and you've come to learn that he addresses you as 'Сиделка' which you were promptly enlightened that it meant 'Carer', a name that you don't mind him calling you as it did feel most fitting considering this whole situation.
You lightly hold onto his wrist, slowly moving over to the sink and turning on the faucet and bringing both of your hands under the running water. "It's just a small cut, Hun. I'm okay," you attempt to soothe him as he watches as the blood swirls down the drain, his grip not loosening as the water runs over his fingers washing away your life essence and his breathing quickens and his grip tightens and in turn, you tighten your hold on his wrist "it's stopped bleeding. No need to worry," You whisper, holding your hand between your bodies allowing him to scan over the wound with his trembling hands and with your free-hand you swiftly open your junk drawer grabbing a bandaid from your stashed box incase of kitchen incidents, placing the bandage over your cut with a kind smile as you softly say "nothing a band aid won't fix, like nothing happened."
Leading him over with a gentle hand, you'd have to be careful around him, blood is emphatically a trigger for his fragile mind and you'd rather not have him spiral and hinder all the progress you've made so far if it can be helped.
There's no remark as he stares at your hand, you swear there's a tension like he wants to say something in return but he seems perplexed as the turbulent thoughts in his head rage on so you decide to bring his attention elsewhere. "Come, why don't you try the oranges? It's healthy for you."
-
You noticed the hesitantance as he stood near your bathroom door, his hand gripping the sill with a force that you've grown to understand more and more the longer you observe him. You can see the anxiety growing in him, his chest slightly heaving with deep breaths and his shoulders square with tension. It was a heartbreaking sight, the simplest of tasks were always met with a daunting uncertainty and a faraway look to his eyes like haunted memories were forcing their way in the forefront of his mind, a glazed over sheen, a barely concealed entryway for all the aching torment and blood stained testaments.
Though he towered over you, you feared he just may crumble into pieces right before your very feet, his edges so serrated it just may pierce into you demanding, raging, begging to be heard and seen and felt.
He tended to avoid the bathroom as much as possible, only using it when he absolutely needed to, and you only assume it's because he feels most vulnerable in there.
"It's okay, it's safe. I'm here." You assure him, your footsteps light as you come to a stop close behind him, his body shivers involuntarily and he clenches his fists to his sides as you step next to him, you swear you can hear the tight clench of his jaw as his teeth grounded together in a poorly hidden strain. You want to reach out to him and soothe your fingers along the side of his face to unclench his tight jaw but you think better of it, he's hanging by a thread resisting whatever destructive thoughts running through his mind.
he refuses to meet your stunned gaze, his chin tilted down and his spine erect with tautness, your silence not one of disgust as he automatically assumed but rather in pure disbelief as he has not asked for help out rightly but you soon school your emotions as you nod with an awkwardness that almost causes you to groan in unadulterated humiliation. This poor man is finally asking for the aid he's never asked before, and you freeze, not only embarrassing but more than likely unsettling for him.
This was always the hardest part, trying to safely navigate these tumultuous situations not only for him but yourself, words can only get you so far and it brings back that dreaded uneasiness that settled in the pit of your stomach. 'What ifs' ran through your mind, but the croak of his voice pulled you from it, the sting of your teeth biting into your bottom finally registering in "Сиделка..help."
"Okay, whatever you need.." You calmly articulate, thanking the stars that your voice didn't give out on you as you step into the bathroom standing to the side with your hands nervously thumbing the hem of your shirt.
Soldier's body doesn't ease as he mechanically follows in after you, the whirring of the plates in his metal arm the second loudest sound aside from his deep breathing. His eyes are glued to the bathtub that seemed so dangerously imposing to him, the sting settling in from his unblinking stare, his bare feet digging into the plush bath rug that adorned your bathroom floor. This isn't where he wanted to be, the impending doom that settled over him at the thought of that bathtub being filled and being forced into the unforgiving freezing temperature of the liquid, the burn of his lungs as merciless hands forcibly pushed his head under.
The walls are closing in around him, and his ears ring loudly as he feels himself slipping away. Your presence is doing little to pull him back from the void that's taking hold on him.
"Soldier." A lifeline. Your voice leading him back into the moment, the softness and lack of thunderous authority attention grabbing, not at all brash and tyrannical. You step within his line of sight, your eyes compelling him to meet your gaze. "Would you like a shower or bath?" Questions, again. What seems to be the bane of his existence, your insistence on asking him questions, of giving him an option. Each and every time, it feels like a trap, a lure to tempt him with the idea that he's permitted to make a choice.
No. You're his Carer, his handler. He had no say in this matter. So why do you insist on this meaningless charade? It's frustrating, and it grates on his mind each and every time.
You nod to yourself, taking his silence as an answer itself. You'd have to make the choice yourself so you settle for the safer option, a shower.
you pull the shower curtain fully back and turn the knob of the shower on, the shower head sputters to life, the water cascading down filling the room with the sound reminiscent to the rainy night you found him. One hand under the shower down, evening out the temperature for a comfortable warmth for him, finally satisfied as it leveled out enough.
You turn toward Soldier immediately, catching the way his throat anxiously contracts and his arms stiffened at the sight of the shower, his intense gaze locked on the raining shower head.
"It's warm. You can see for yourself if you want." He makes no move towards the shower, only a slight nod in acknowledgement before his eyes glaze over, his hands automatically shedding off the clothes adorning him and a small gasp is startled from you as you immediately cover your eyes in attempt of respecting his privacy that he seemed to have no regard for. As the sounds of his shuffling cease you're confused as slightly peek through your fingers, he makes no attempt to climb into the tub, if you didn't know any better it seemed like something was preventing him from stepping over that threshold. The look in his eyes pained and absolutely impotent and you can feel your heart mourn, your breath hitching as you frantically try to put a thought together for your next move.
Not even a moment later, you are stepping into the tub fully clothed under the raining shower head, your hand still shielding over your eyes as you sit down, allowing yourself to be fully saturated.
All is silent as you feel your clothes stick to your skin heavily and you almost begin to wonder if he'll join you in your pathetic attempt of reassuring him it's safe, that you'll endure this shower with him if you have to, your sodden clothes no consequence to that.
All of those thoughts are put to a close and you feel him settle on the other side of the tub, it's a tight fit but the two of you settle in slight fetal position, your knees pulled your chest and though his legs are covering majority of his body now, you still hide your eyes behind your palm.
The warm water settles all around you, enshrouding you in a miniature makeshift waterfall and you can feel the liquid running over your palm and down into your lap, this moment feels surreal and overwhelmingly intimate in a way you don't fully understand.
Though you are fully clothed, you feel exposed and torn about this particular situation. You are sitting in a bathtub with the world's deadliest assassin, who's not completely free from the shackles of his oppressive past, the very same assassin who is sitting nude 2 inches from you.
It's all too bizarre.
His despondency and forlorn presence compels a side of you that you've haven't had much opportunities to meet yourself, a side that forces you to observe more closely, forces you to be selfless in all the ways that count, could it be considered maternal? Or did it run on the fumes of natural human empathy? His pain and suffering inhabited the space like a living breathing existence. It lingered over him, and it stuck to your lungs like a pesky smog that refused to let you breathe in too deeply.
Empathy was a strange thing. Such a humanly emotion that weighed down on you more and more each day as you witnessed the greater extent of just how deep his wounds ran. It sat before you like a state of constant agony. The blood ran, never at a stalemate, remnants of ghosts seeping from the lesions, infected with promises of more to come.
Oh, the torment of being touched with only martyrdom.
Though the grasp on your wrist was nothing of such, firm but docile as he lowered your hand from your eyes, his movement unhurried, but his hand trembled. Unquiet is the best word described for him as he allowed you to look at him, his hand clinging to your wrist as a means to ground the quiver in his nervy fingers. His legs pulled to his chest tightly, his flesh arm wound around the front of his knees redolent of a scared child, his long wet hair sticking to his face as the water sprayed overhead.
The metal ran warm around your wrist, you thought as your eyes ran up the length of his forearm to his bicep, finally landing on the marring of his shoulder. The skin riddled with traces of the touch of his tormentors spread into their metallic creation that took up the place that once made him whole.
That red star is a brand, symbolic in the way that matters to them, a mark to signify that he was theirs. Their soldier, their prized asset.
It made your stomach turn.
"Help. Please." The water blurred your vision as the droplets ran over your lashes, your mouth falling open slightly before you nodded with a small gulp.
He released a breath, his hand falling from your wrist as he pressed his cheek to the top of his knee, his saturated hair falling over his eyes. There it was, that quiet trust, a plea to be cared for sitting right before you and your hands trembled.
you pushed his hair from his eyes, your fingers slicked it back, his arms tightened around his legs, and his cheek pressed closer to knee.
He didn't make a sound as your fingers messaged the shampoo through his knotted tresses, his eyelashes fluttering at the sensation of your ultra careful movements, mindful to not pull or scratch too deep as you worked to wash and relieve his entangled strands.
'All is fine..I'm okay, he's okay. We're okay..'
His blue eyes met yours as he slowly lifted his head without so much of a word, his hand lifted, his thumb soothing out the crease between your brows with a touch that made your heart stutter and your breath to completely come to a stop. There's a haze to his eyes, glossy as if mentally he was in a far-off place.
Your hand consciously grabs the body cloth from your shower rack, generously pouring body wash, making sure to thoroughly rub it until suds produced from the movement. You place it on top of his knee with a shaky smile. Surely he wouldn't want you to wash him yourself..
His gaze strayed from the cloth back to you with a blank stare, and it seemed almost expectant like he truly thought you would take it upon yourself to start the violating process of scrubbing his skin raw, to rid him of all the grime as if it was his sins were inked into him and with enough force they could be cleaned away, just so new ones could replace them.
You simply shake your head, a reserved smile taking over your lips. "I'd need your permission, Soldier. I can't otherwise." You say resolutely. Without his verbal consent, you can't bring yourself to touch him. It felt like a transgression to not just him but yourself to do such a task without his say so.
It feels like he's at a crossroads, stuck between choice and compliance.
His conditioning rages within him, spitting out threats of retribution, the repercussions hanging over his head like a noose awaiting the moment it tightens around his supple neck, the rope biting into his skin with a cruel penance.
But once again, you present him with a choice. One he feels is a trap, a simple word of consent feeling like a death sentence.
The soaked cloth is gentle against the skin of his hand when he lifts it, the soap suds slathering his inner palm as he extends it out towards you, his gaze cautious as you grab the linen from him, his low voice filling the space between you.
Synopsis: Bucky is an eccentric espionage operative who enjoys the thrill of fucking shit up and bothering his beloved moody partner who puts up with his shit. They're the unlikely pair who work extremely well with each other. (it helps that they secretly love each other. And they were partners! gasp)
Word count: 4415
Tags: Cursing, tired reader, mentions of blood, mention of trauma, dummy Bucky, spy shit, scenes of violence, flirty/exasperated duo, bickering & banter, selective mute reader, smug bastard Bucky, love & hate relationship (they both love each other), I love them your honor
A/n: Wow, I actually managed to get this out with relative ease (sike, I had a miniature meltdown at some parts.) I wanted to make a banter fic so here is my hand at it. I tried, lol.
Flirty cocky Bucky is my favorite kind of Bucky, so this was self-indulgent if you couldn't tell.
He's an idiot, an 'irritatingly grates on your nerves incessantly' kind of fuckin idiot. He prefers his "pro no-bono method" which by the way made no damn sense but in his bucky brain, it makes perfect sense. It's making shit up along the way which usually ends with you having to pull away from your designated safe zone just so you can save him from his idiotic slip ups- swooping in at the nick of time so his dumbass doesn't get killed.
He has his moments. He's the smartest dumbest person you've ever met, but he's also the best partner you've been paired with.
He was incredibly adept when the moment really called for it, he was good at his job, he matched you on having a long history of experience of being espionage operative but he just couldn't help himself to 'spice' things up.
Truthfully, he was an adrenaline-junkie who craved more than the monotonous covers of the same old, same old. And you, his complete opposite who played by the rule book, just stoked that fire brighter.
You allowed him that space to be a complete dumbass because you possessed the proper brain cells to pull him out of sticky situations.
You have to remind yourself, 'He's the best partner you've been paired with. Deep breath, don't kill him yourself.'
He gets you, attuned with your movements both on and off the field. Dare you say that he was your closest friend despite all his headassery that gives you a constant throbbing migraine that appears the very second you can just feel he's about to do something incredibly stupid, though he calls it making 'very calculated risks'.
Again, he's the best partner you've been paired with.
With him there's no need for words, his ability to read your facial expressions bordering on something of a supernatural skill, it comes to him as easily as breathing it seems and he doesn't push for more from you.
Incredibly loyal and incredibly stupid.
You watch all the cams with a close eye- their positions settled discreetly within the elegant venue that Bucky is currently operating in, your eyebrow twitching in irritation as he stands at the bar motioning to the bartender for yet another martini.
Your hand immediately lands on the comm around your neck, your fingers nimbly pressing on the button, a series of beeps feeding through the comm in his ear. 'Stop drinking so much, you imbecile.'
The smirk that pulls on his lips is instantaneous as he quickly downs the martini without a second thought, his chuckle only causing your lip to twitch from the repressed annoyance.
"I've got this, Master Chief. Stop beeping at me,"
Your response is immediate. 'Don't call me that, dumbass. Eyes on target, get a move on,'
He hums as his eyes trail over the assigned target, he's steps away from the bar with an air of self appointed confidence and you have to give him credit, he doesn't seem out of place amongst the rich and the beautiful, he's devastatingly handsome in his black on black suit, so much so that it irritates you all the more.
'Remember, I need you to be within 2 clicks of the target. The transmitter will send a signal to his phone, I'll let you know when to pull back.' Bucky bumps into a young woman, his hand immediately settling on her waist as he flashes her a charming smile. "Sorry about that, sweetheart." Her eyes instantly flutter, and a flustered giggle pulls from her lips as he slips by her.
'Don't get distracted. After my signal, you'll need to slip into his office and plug in the USB," He discreetly grins to himself as he mocks the series of beeps in his ear back to you. "Bee boop beep, hear you loud and clear. In position. Now do your thing, R2-D2."
You roll your eyes as you activate your transmission, the signal only extending to your assigned target's device.
"You know this could go a whole lot faster if I'm closer, gives me a chance to attain personal details,"
Your hand immediately lands on your comm button, pressing down with no relent, releasing a high-pitched screech in his ear, and he jolts, a curse slipping from between clenched teeth, cupping his ear.
'The last time you did that, you flirted with the target's wife so much, you damn near got yourself shot in the foot,' the sound he releases is nothing short of a devious giggle as he mutters. "True, but she liked it."
The ping sets off, pulling your attention, and you quickly get back to the task at hand.
'Transmission complete, get in there. Also, for the love of god, don't do anything stupid. CO will have our asses.'
A smug look crossed his face as he rounded the edges of the ballroom towards his next objective. "Don't you worry your pretty little head," he simpers, "I'll keep the 'calculated risks' to a minimum."
-
As he steps into the compound, your hands move promptly, your expression one of exasperation as he slinks forward towards you with a goofy smile.
'I'm going to kill you. Where the hell were you?' His arms wrap around your waist, spinning you around, the action surprising you. You tightly hold onto his shoulders before he quickly settles you back on the ground, his eyes glowing with crackling excitement.
Your mouth falls open in surprise, your eyebrows furrowing with growing suspicion. 'What did you do?' You sign with a sigh, your head tilting. His laughter immediately follows as his hands settle on your shoulders.
"Guess who scored us the jackpot? Yeah, that's right! This guy!" He shakes you back and forth with the enthusiasm of an overly hyped child, and you feel the urge to groan out tiredly.
Bucky is an overachiever. He's down for whatever big score he can get his hands on, and obviously, you're dragged right along no matter how much you try to talk him out of it - a stubborn idiot.
'Let me guess, it's sketchy, but the pay is good?' You look up with an unimpressed look.
"It's in the Mills, Sweet-face! That supersedes all the boring details,"
You could kill him and hang him from the rafters for all the other operatives to see, then come up with the most logical explanation to tell your Case Officer why your partner was disposed of but unfortunately, Bucky was the most valuable espionage agent there is and unluckily enough, he was your problem so it was a no go.
'Fine, but if it's anything like what happened in Dubai, I'm leaving you behind.' You motion with a pout, your hands soon dropping grudgingly.
Bucky makes a sound of victory, a grin spreading onto his face as he sticks out his pinky, extended out towards you.
"Pinky promise and try not to die, Partner."
With a whole lot of mustered up willpower and prayers that you'll survive whatever scenario you'll be put in, you wrap your pinky around his.
-
The clicking of the keyboard from your work laptop filled the quiet space, your eyes slowly blinking away the tiredness sticking to the corners of your lids. Your lower back starting to ache and a headache beginning to settle in after a long day of browsing through case file after case file, so far it's all minimal details that do nothing to catch your attention.
You look to the side of you, Bucky's draped over the table with his head laying on his arms- soft breaths puffing from between his pouting lips, his eyelashes fluttering as he floats through the throes of sleep. He looked abnormally soft and calm, the complete opposite of his usual wild smile and smug look.
The way his face was fully relaxed, smooth of any crinkling and unrestrained chaos, he was unfairly pretty.
You couldn't help but brush away the curl that fell from the crown of his head in front of his eyes, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he shifted slightly in sleep.
Bucky was enigmatic in all the ways that didn't make sense, but to you, all those qualities made him - him. He often got on your nerves and you often threatened to leave him behind but the truth was, you were loyal to him to a fault, all because he stuck by you with no complaint the day you two were assigned as partners.
You were the newest operative, an unconventional agent who, for the life of you, couldn't mesh with every other agent you were paired with. Your silence and stoicism unsettling or impractical for them. You didn't care much for it.
Your trauma stemming from a mission gone wrong that rendered you into a vow of silence.
Their need for your voice further pushing you to close that part of yourself off. Your CIA career going down the drain as a result leading you to where you are now, in an agency that specializes in espionage operatives for hire.
You can still remember that day you met Bucky Barnes, the over-eccentric agent who managed to exhaust every attempt of partnership within the bureau.
His face smudged with black gunpowder and a bloody busted lip that did nothing to dim his beaming smile and those blue eyes as he was introduced to you by your CO.
"I'll be transparent with ya, you're more than likely the 100th person I've been paired with," he's entirely unashamed by that fact as he shakes your hand with the friendliness of a golden retriever with no self preservation.
"No worries, I'll be the best partner you'll ever have!"
And from there came a collaboration of the opposites, two forces that somehow synergized so well together that there was not a doubt about you two being their top agents.
It was exhausting, both the reputation and him, but you couldn't possibly think of it being any other way.
He's your problem and you're his solution.
Fire to gasoline at worst.
Your fingers trace along his jawline, a faint smile on your face as he hums sleepily, leaning into your gentle touch.
You secure a fleece blanket around his shoulders, tucking it around his hunched over figure before settling back into your research.
-
You hear him before he enters the room.
he sing-songs your name loudly as he dramatically slams the door open, ever the drama queen he was.
As he's passing the threshold, he turns around, moon walking then spinning breaking into doing his little 'dancey dance' right in front of you as you sit on the table with your leg pulled up.
You can't help but roll your eyes at his demonstration, continuing to wipe down your pistol with careful hands.
His little grunts of exertion as he's dancing make you want to throw your rag at his head.
he grins at you with a twinkle in his eye, clearly very pleased with the upcoming topic. "Guess what, Snoopy,"
You sigh, placing your gun beside your thigh and slowly looking up at him, your eyes tracing over him. He's clean shaven and emanating his usual aftershave along with his favorite cologne - he's usually mindful of his looks and hygiene, but this bordered on more effort on his part, like he was looking to impress.
'Don't tell me you harassed the new receptionist,' You sign with a flat look, that exasperation building in your chest as you pinch your nose bridge not caring for the gun grease coating your fingertips.
His laugh is instantaneous. "Come on, I didn't harass her! She was totally into it," he smugly smiles at you, leaning in closer. "So much so, she agreed to a date!"
'You cost us our last receptionist, Barnes,' You respond in kind, your expression mocking his before it falls as you shake your head.
"True, but only because I mentioned the background check and her newest fraudulent tax claims.."
'It's not easy being a receptionist in this economy,' You motion, shrugging as you wipe off the residue from your fingertips.
"Perhaps I came off as too intense?" He hums with a smirk before biting it down, scrunching his nose at you playfully.
'Intense doesn't cover it, more like stalker-ish,' You mirror his smirk, hopping off the table with ease.
"Occupational hazard, Sweet-face," he grins, swiping his finger over your nose bridge, rubbing the grease between his fingers.
You huff in amusement before you smooth down his shirt over his shoulders and slick his hair back with a raised eyebrow, signing. 'Behave out there, Barnes. We prefer to have a receptionist within our midst.'
"No promises, I like to keep you guessing." He says as he tips your chin with his finger before he's moon-walking towards the door bumping into it like an idiot, winking at you on the way out.
-
This is the 5th time in 10 minutes that Bucky has tugged at your hair, each and every time you smacked his hand away as if he was a pesky gnat, which in your head, he was.
'Why are you being so clingy?' You turn to him abruptly, your signing exuding your exasperation.
He tilts his head, his cheek pressed into his palm.
"Just missed you s'all," He says slyly, making a kissy face tipping towards you, it doesn't take you a second to push him away- your palm pressed against the middle of his face, your distaste clear on your face.
'Kiss me, and you're losing more than just your life.'
He giggles, nipping at your finger in retaliation. "Be still my beating heart, you flirt,"
'Please, shut your face.' Your forehead smacks on to the table with a loud thud, you definitely regret getting him that double shot espresso Red Eye with whip cream and caramel drizzle, he insisted- insisted was too nice of word- more like begged for.
You just hope his caffeine high would crash down on him before your wrath did.
'I need you to focus, you himbo,' Your hand grips his chin firmly, trailing his attention back to you, he grins. 'Our client is coming in. CO arranged a meeting for that big score you somehow attained.'
"Oh hell yeah! First impressions!" His voice muffled from his pursed lips as you squeezed his cheeks in between your fingers, your eyebrows furrowing with a tiny frown.
You release him from your grasp, your signing stern. 'I need you to be sane,' You poke the middle of his forehead, his head lightly bobbling from the movement. 'No crazy expositions and unnecessary rants again.'
The slow crawl of a smile slips onto his face as he pinches your cheek. "Sweet-face, you're cute when you worry,"
Your face is blank as you resist the urge to sigh. He's so infuriating- but the fondness that warms your chest overruled that fact more than you'd like to admit.
"We're a 5 star duo, we've never disappointed," his face falls into something softer, a flicker of reassurance in his blue eyes "I wouldn't let you down, Y/n."
You huff out of your nose, the corner of your lips tugging in a sideways smile. 'I don't doubt you, Bucky.'
His chest deflates subtly, your eyes immediately catching it - you're suddenly all too aware of your rising heartbeat. He truly valued your opinion of him.
You mattered to him.
He clears his throat, his hand rubbing the back of his neck before he tugs at your hair again. "Then it's a good thing you have faith in my pro no-bono method."
And the moment is dead.
'I hate the pro no-bono method!'
-
The thing you dreaded most other than Bucky's shenanigans was his first impressions. It always ended poorly on your behalf.
Whilst you tried to maintain a point of professionalism and poise, Bucky was the pin to that outlook each and every time.
You have no idea how your CO could bear to go through these meetings. You were barely surviving them without,
A. Wanting to jump through the nearest window despite being 30 floors high and,
B. Wanting to kick Bucky down the first elevator shaft you come across, but you supposed those were the trials and tribulations of being acquainted with the one and only Bucky Barnes.
The mischievous smile that threatened to break out across his face pulled an exhaustion that emerged from deep within your bones - the feeling appearing as an ache did when the cold winds picked up outside.
'Bucky, please. You look like you're holding back an aneurysm,"
His eyes were glued to the double doors with a strange excitable intensity, awaiting the honored client, but the quick glance over let you know he knew exactly what you signed.
"Hush, Gromit. I'm trying to focus here."
An indignant huff escapes your lips involuntarily, your lips falling into a frown as you glare at the side of his face, only causing him to smirk as he feels your gaze on him.
'You're insufferable, Barnes.'
You turn away, not bothering to see if he caught what you said, walking over to your CO's desk and roughly flipping open the client's file, your eyes scanning over the general information.
It was interesting enough.
Son of a corrupt CEO, in need of experienced espionage operatives to steal valuable asset information. Highly dangerous, could potentially end in shed blood.
Okay.. Typical Friday night.
"Glare any harder and you'll set the file on fire," He hums teasingly, his hands landing on the desk leaning towards you with a coquet smile- no doubt his way of distracting you from your grumpy mood before your scheduled meeting.
You supposed he was sweet for the thought, but you can see through him too well. He was only trying to soften the metaphorical blow to your ego once he transitioned into his characteristic 'first impressions'.
Your eyebrow twitches in response.
He blows you a kiss.
Right on schedule, your CO and client walk right through those double doors with the swagger of men who wanted to get down to business, and you could respect it, but you knew it wouldn't last long.
Your CO throws a pointed look at Bucky, his arms crossing and his lips pulled into a disapproving frown- he can feel the chaos that stirred up in the blue eyed man as soon as they walked into the room.
"Mr. Wells, I'd like to introduce you to our most elite members, Bucky Barnes and Y/n L/n." He gestures with a tight smile.
Bucky's contemptuous smile almost tempts you to smile slightly yourself- Perhaps you two had every reason to be boastful in your work.
You make your way around the desk, standing behind Bucky, nodding your head in greeting.
"What's good, man. We're the lowly souls at your disposal," Bucky simpers, a shit eating grin leveling his face.
Your head immediately snaps to stare at the side of his face, your mouth slightly parted in dismay.
Mr. Wells laughs in response, his brow raising in amusement. "Nice one, appreciate it."
You almost sigh in relief that Mr. Wells took Bucky's words with a grain of salt - 10 different scenarios flashed before your eyes from the idiot's comment alone.
Your eyes trail warily over to the trio as they slip into standard talk of the mission, you lean against the front of the desk with your arms crossed, listening into the more important details, trying to drown out Bucky's incessant side comments.
He's so lucky he had a cute face, or otherwise, his life would be on hard-mode from his cheeky mouth alone.
You couldn't help but disassociate as you stare in their direction, only snapping out of it when their conversation catches your attention at the mention of you.
"Does she do that a lot?.. Stare like that?" Mr. Wells asks curiously, his gaze shifting to Bucky.
Bucky grin hooks the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, I like calling her 'Silent but Deadly'."
"Like.. a far-?"
"Yeah." Bucky cuts him off while shrugging, and you don't even give him a moment to revel in his amusement as you slap the back of his head, his head jeering forward by the force.
A choked laugh tears from his mouth as he cradles the back of his head. "See?"
Your glare is searing as you lift your hand up again in a threatening manner, and Bucky giggles boyishly, putting his hand up in surrender.
That metaphorical blow to your ego was enough for you to commit both treachery and homicide. He's so lucky that he had a cute face.
-
Okay, this isn't anything like a typical Friday night.
You figured that this would be harder than the standardized ops you were usually sent on, but you never thought you would be up against a small militia of men that Mr. Wells' father had on guard.
The drive that sat in your pocket felt as if it was burning a hole against your thigh as you pressed against your hiding spot away from the men's scanning eyes.
You had been separated from Bucky, and you felt as if you were gonna throw up your heart from anxiety as you clutched the fabric of your shirt tightly.
Your comms have been intercepted, and you couldn't risk using them. you just wanted to find Bucky more than anything. The thought of him in need of your help caused your breathing to pick a more panicked pace and a flustered haze encompassed over your brain.
You needed to move forward.
There was no way in hell you would be leaving this place without him.
You ran up the hall, hiding behind a wall when you peeped two men running up the staircase, their voices carrying with rugged urgency. "He's up on the renovated floor! Trap him in!"
Your mind raced as you thought back to map layout of the building. The renovated floor is the 21st floor.
You slammed your shoulder into the stairwell door, immediately pointing your gun in the men's direction as you determined their positions from their loud footsteps.
Your bullet made its way into the first man's leg, he yelled out in pain, his gun slipping from his hand and down into the endless spiral of stairs. The second man runs back down in an attempt to save his partner but you're quick to make a head-shot and run up in a hurry, shooting the first man without a second to spare as you pass him.
You can hear the commotion from the renovation floor, the gunfire and screams bouncing off the stairwell walls with a vengeance, and you ignore it as best as you could - steeling your emotions.
You don't bother with stealth as you roll into the hall, staying low to avoid the bullets sent your way, you shoot up from your low position- landing each shot with practiced precision.
You run forward toward the end of the long hall, a choked breath trying to rip from your chest as you hear yells from the boardroom.
You quickly reload, throwing your empty cartridge to the side as you slam into the room.
Your world slows as you pass the threshold, watching your partner lose his footing as he falls through the broken window behind him as he dodges the knife swinging toward him.
"BUCKY!"
Three shots resonated through the air.
-
Your voice rang through the air, and it seemed all else was drowned out as he heard you call out his name.
His arm ached with the burning pain as he held onto the ledge of the building, glass digging into the delicate skin of his fingers, piercing them with the promise of scarring in the near future. He could feel his right arm tremble viciously as he threw his other arm up in an attempt to pull himself up. Blood dribbled down his skin in red rivulets.
What shook him most right at this moment is that while he feared falling to his death, he was dreading dying without seeing you one last time.
He wanted to see you. He bit his lower lip hard, hard enough that he tasted iron. He wanted you more than anything right now.. so much so he heard what he thought was your voice as he fell..
Did he imagine you calling out his name?
That question quickly died out when you urgently grabbed his forearm using all the strength you could possibly muster, your eyes glassy, and your expression so desperate as you clutched onto him to pull him into safety.
He could hear the panic-stricken pace of your breathing. He's seen you like this once before and it destroyed him as it did before, and as he's pulled over the ledge, his chest both somehow constricted and expanded as he instantly pushed himself into your space.
You're here. He's so relieved and grateful that you're once again here for him.
"You're an angel, both physically and vocally." He says breathlessly as he grabs the back of your head, pressing a hurried kiss to your forehead.
He knew the humorous compliment after a near death experience was certainly a choice, but he didn't worry about it as he knew that you could see right through him. You always did.
When you two were safe and sound, he would properly handle it. You weren't the only one who could feel the remnants of dark doubt that hung over the two of you.
Your lips pull back in a relieved smile as you grip onto his shoulders, an exhaustion radiating off you as you shakily tilt your head.
Bucky quickly pulls you behind him, ducking behind cover as he hears the oncoming footsteps of men stomping their way down the hall. His hand grazing over his flash bomb and double-checking his ammunition in his gun.
You settle next to him, your expression schooling itself immediately with practiced ease, your hand pulling back the hammer of your pistol, emptying itself of the hollow shells.
"Bucky.." His head whips back in your direction, breathless as he awaits your next words.
You stick out your pinky. "You promised." Your voice is low and shaky from disuse.
There's a dazed look in his eyes - as if all other surrounding sound didn't matter to him but your voice.
The quintessence of all that was worthy of reverence.
'Oh fuck.' Crosses his mind within a split second.
He doesn't hesitate to wrap his pinky around yours, pulling your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles with vigor.
Synopsis: You knew him as the Winter Soldier - the asset who was the main tool to your constant torment while under the control of Hydra. Now you've met James Buchanan Barnes - a man who has similar scars that match your own. A conflict you find yourself having to face.
Word Count: 1234
Tags: angst, Canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, mentions of torture, former widow reader, former Winter Soldier Bucky, emotional vulnerability, trauma,
A/n: Here's some hurt/comfort widow reader x bucky before I get to my soldier series + smut piece. I like to think that I did well with the parallels, I was kinda playing my hand at them, and I hope it paid off, lol. Anyway enjoy ❤️
You can still taste the sharp tang of iron on your tongue, the constricting hold on your throat as he held you down into submission. The icy frost of his eyes piercing, sinking viciously until it reached the deepest part of you, the core only he could make an impact on, and that fact proved only to further scare you.
The unrelenting force of metal on the delicate curve of your neck stirred those feelings of helplessness and terrifying inferiority. It accumulated in your chest like a sickness as you kicked your legs against him. It was no use. It never was.
The Winter Soldier was merciless, and you should’ve done better to avoid their wrath, try to impede this punishment of having to face off their best asset. Should’ve tried harder to avoid his unfaltering grasp, but you were..
“Sloppy. Again.”
An aggravated yell ripped from your lips, reaching behind his head and grasping his hair with an unforgiving rage, snapping his head back with the force.
He grunted, his grip on you faltering and giving you enough leeway to break away from him and driving your sharp elbow into his temple.
The edges of your vision pulsated with red hot furor, his voice and his cut-throat words left surgeon like cuts; practiced and irritatingly clinical, a constant reminder of the white-coats behind those imposing steel doors.
You hated him and his indecipherable countenance. He never gave anything away, and the moment when it seemed like he was, it was fleeting.
It only proved to fuel that ember into a fire, just dying to catch flame and burn against the coldness that hung spitefully within the barebone bunker.
The memories clung to you like a shadow. No matter how much you tried to wash it from your skin, it was a part of you.
It both built you up and destroyed you.
You wished the nicotine from your cigarette dissolved that acrid taste, but it stayed heavy, insistent. Just like him.
You felt his presence long before he stepped up next to you. He didn't bother to say anything, his body settling heavily against the rooftop railing.
The air is always thick with words unspoken, an electric current weaving between them - memories of the other almost overbearing like rapidly cooling adamantium settling oppressively in their bones.
He was nothing like the Winter Soldier, the man that stood before you carried his guilt and regret like an unwanted badge. He was much easier to read, his vulnerability draped over his weary shoulders.
It was a hard pill to swallow - hard to accept this new reality - hard to see past him when all you used to see was an empty space where his soul should have been. In its place was a soul, a broken and battered one but achingly, it was in view now.
This wasn't the Winter Soldier. This was James Buchanan Barnes.
How cruel.
It was cruel that your anger is now misplaced, lingers within your chest cavity like an ache that staggers your breath whenever you make eye contact with him. You don't miss the hitch of his when he looks back.
Your heart aches. It was all so confusing, and it was like static obscuring your senses when it came to him - what were the right responses?
His head hangs as he clutches his hands together tightly. That was one thing you could rely on; his silence. He was never one for words, and it seems that's the case even now.
You breathe out the leftover smoke lingering in your lungs, your lips pressing into a thin line. You've also never been one for words either, one in the same.
Having so much to say but not having the strength to, it was the bane of your existence.
You lightly nudge your shoulder against his, extending your cigarette towards him. You avoid his eyes as you offer your metaphorical olive branch. He falters before he accepts it, his touch both hesitant and docile.
So unlike his counterpart.
“You aren't him. Not anymore, James,” You speak softly. “There's no blame to place.”
The smoke curls from his mouth, a haze floating over his head. “We both know what I did. What I did to you,” his voice is above a whisper. “I see it every time I look at you.”
He's been looking at you with that look for months now, a festering wound of a look and it always sent an unfamiliar sensation throughout your body- your hair stood on end and your nose burned as if your body was gearing up to cry.
Your chest felt like it was constricting, and you instinctively turned your head away. “We both have a lot of red in our ledger, Barnes.” The words were almost bitter. “But I see a different man, one I don't know.”
The crack in your voice was unintentional, but you knew he caught it. The misery was breaking through, and you felt as if you were drowning in the moment.
You only knew the asset, the mindless machine, the cut-throat assassin that would pin you down into demeaning submission.
When he says your name, it sends a shiver throughout your body but it's nothing compared to the indescribable feeling that takes hold as gently turns your head back towards him, the warmth of his flesh hand seeping into your skin.
He wipes away the tears that you didn't even notice slipped out, and your lip trembled before you bit down on it.
“I'm so sorry.” His voice is rough with emotion, his watery eyes practically glowing under the streaming rays of the full moon.
You're weak, so damn vulnerable as you're met with sight of his soul again.
Your fingers tremble as you pluck the cigarette from his metal hand, doing little to prevent yourself from touching the very hand that pressed into your neck with domineering essence.
The nicotine coated your tongue, no trace of that acrid tang of iron to be found as you puff away the vulnerability, meeting his gaze.
The smile that pulls that at the corner of your lips isn't as heavy, not as hollow as it usually is as you find yourself mirroring his position, nodding.
“Thank you, James,” your voice drops into a whisper as you lean into him. “I needed that more than I thought.”
You feel him press his side against you as his head falls onto his arm. “I'll say as many times as I need to,” he doesn't bother to hide the vulnerability in his voice. “I'll say it every day, do anything you need me to.”
You're quick to correct him. “You're a free man now, James.” You needed to remind him that he's free to make amends on his own terms. He was no longer a vacant asset. “We're free. I'm glad that you're here.”
That fire that burned with hate for the Winter Soldier quelled in the presence of James Barnes.
It was a truth that you're willing to live with.
The man that stood before you, who was abused by the same hands that damaged you, he was akin to you in ways that mattered.
“I accept you.” You say honestly, deciding that he was one of your own now.
The breath he releases is deep as he nods, his hands shaking.
“Thank you,” he says breathlessly. “I needed that more than you think.”
I don't want the children of another man to have the eyes of the girl I won't forget"
Is so Ex!Boyfriend Bucky x Ex!Girlfriend Reader coded 😫
One day, he's confronted with the painful reality that the girl who he's pushed away due to his own fears and insecurities could possibly carry the children of another man, and those children wouldn't be a mixture of him and you like he dreamed.
Instead, they would be the living representation of his failure to allow himself to truly be happy with the love of his life.
He would once again deem himself not worthy of obtaining the one thing he desperately wants even though he agonizes over the thought of your children not being his.
Your children having your eyes but not his hair color or his eyes and your smile.
Synopsis: Bucky is an eccentric espionage operative who enjoys the thrill of fucking shit up and bothering his beloved moody partner who puts up with his shit. They're the unlikely pair who work extremely well with each other. (it helps that they secretly love each other. And they were partners! gasp)
Word count: 4415
Tags: Cursing, tired reader, mentions of blood, mention of trauma, dummy Bucky, spy shit, scenes of violence, flirty/exasperated duo, bickering & banter, selective mute reader, smug bastard Bucky, love & hate relationship (they both love each other), I love them your honor
A/n: Wow, I actually managed to get this out with relative ease (sike, I had a miniature meltdown at some parts.) I wanted to make a banter fic so here is my hand at it. I tried, lol.
Flirty cocky Bucky is my favorite kind of Bucky, so this was self-indulgent if you couldn't tell.
He's an idiot, an 'irritatingly grates on your nerves incessantly' kind of fuckin idiot. He prefers his "pro no-bono method" which by the way made no damn sense but in his bucky brain, it makes perfect sense. It's making shit up along the way which usually ends with you having to pull away from your designated safe zone just so you can save him from his idiotic slip ups- swooping in at the nick of time so his dumbass doesn't get killed.
He has his moments. He's the smartest dumbest person you've ever met, but he's also the best partner you've been paired with.
He was incredibly adept when the moment really called for it, he was good at his job, he matched you on having a long history of experience of being espionage operative but he just couldn't help himself to 'spice' things up.
Truthfully, he was an adrenaline-junkie who craved more than the monotonous covers of the same old, same old. And you, his complete opposite who played by the rule book, just stoked that fire brighter.
You allowed him that space to be a complete dumbass because you possessed the proper brain cells to pull him out of sticky situations.
You have to remind yourself, 'He's the best partner you've been paired with. Deep breath, don't kill him yourself.'
He gets you, attuned with your movements both on and off the field. Dare you say that he was your closest friend despite all his headassery that gives you a constant throbbing migraine that appears the very second you can just feel he's about to do something incredibly stupid, though he calls it making 'very calculated risks'.
Again, he's the best partner you've been paired with.
With him there's no need for words, his ability to read your facial expressions bordering on something of a supernatural skill, it comes to him as easily as breathing it seems and he doesn't push for more from you.
Incredibly loyal and incredibly stupid.
You watch all the cams with a close eye- their positions settled discreetly within the elegant venue that Bucky is currently operating in, your eyebrow twitching in irritation as he stands at the bar motioning to the bartender for yet another martini.
Your hand immediately lands on the comm around your neck, your fingers nimbly pressing on the button, a series of beeps feeding through the comm in his ear. 'Stop drinking so much, you imbecile.'
The smirk that pulls on his lips is instantaneous as he quickly downs the martini without a second thought, his chuckle only causing your lip to twitch from the repressed annoyance.
"I've got this, Master Chief. Stop beeping at me,"
Your response is immediate. 'Don't call me that, dumbass. Eyes on target, get a move on,'
He hums as his eyes trail over the assigned target, he's steps away from the bar with an air of self appointed confidence and you have to give him credit, he doesn't seem out of place amongst the rich and the beautiful, he's devastatingly handsome in his black on black suit, so much so that it irritates you all the more.
'Remember, I need you to be within 2 clicks of the target. The transmitter will send a signal to his phone, I'll let you know when to pull back.' Bucky bumps into a young woman, his hand immediately settling on her waist as he flashes her a charming smile. "Sorry about that, sweetheart." Her eyes instantly flutter, and a flustered giggle pulls from her lips as he slips by her.
'Don't get distracted. After my signal, you'll need to slip into his office and plug in the USB," He discreetly grins to himself as he mocks the series of beeps in his ear back to you. "Bee boop beep, hear you loud and clear. In position. Now do your thing, R2-D2."
You roll your eyes as you activate your transmission, the signal only extending to your assigned target's device.
"You know this could go a whole lot faster if I'm closer, gives me a chance to attain personal details,"
Your hand immediately lands on your comm button, pressing down with no relent, releasing a high-pitched screech in his ear, and he jolts, a curse slipping from between clenched teeth, cupping his ear.
'The last time you did that, you flirted with the target's wife so much, you damn near got yourself shot in the foot,' the sound he releases is nothing short of a devious giggle as he mutters. "True, but she liked it."
The ping sets off, pulling your attention, and you quickly get back to the task at hand.
'Transmission complete, get in there. Also, for the love of god, don't do anything stupid. CO will have our asses.'
A smug look crossed his face as he rounded the edges of the ballroom towards his next objective. "Don't you worry your pretty little head," he simpers, "I'll keep the 'calculated risks' to a minimum."
-
As he steps into the compound, your hands move promptly, your expression one of exasperation as he slinks forward towards you with a goofy smile.
'I'm going to kill you. Where the hell were you?' His arms wrap around your waist, spinning you around, the action surprising you. You tightly hold onto his shoulders before he quickly settles you back on the ground, his eyes glowing with crackling excitement.
Your mouth falls open in surprise, your eyebrows furrowing with growing suspicion. 'What did you do?' You sign with a sigh, your head tilting. His laughter immediately follows as his hands settle on your shoulders.
"Guess who scored us the jackpot? Yeah, that's right! This guy!" He shakes you back and forth with the enthusiasm of an overly hyped child, and you feel the urge to groan out tiredly.
Bucky is an overachiever. He's down for whatever big score he can get his hands on, and obviously, you're dragged right along no matter how much you try to talk him out of it - a stubborn idiot.
'Let me guess, it's sketchy, but the pay is good?' You look up with an unimpressed look.
"It's in the Mills, Sweet-face! That supersedes all the boring details,"
You could kill him and hang him from the rafters for all the other operatives to see, then come up with the most logical explanation to tell your Case Officer why your partner was disposed of but unfortunately, Bucky was the most valuable espionage agent there is and unluckily enough, he was your problem so it was a no go.
'Fine, but if it's anything like what happened in Dubai, I'm leaving you behind.' You motion with a pout, your hands soon dropping grudgingly.
Bucky makes a sound of victory, a grin spreading onto his face as he sticks out his pinky, extended out towards you.
"Pinky promise and try not to die, Partner."
With a whole lot of mustered up willpower and prayers that you'll survive whatever scenario you'll be put in, you wrap your pinky around his.
-
The clicking of the keyboard from your work laptop filled the quiet space, your eyes slowly blinking away the tiredness sticking to the corners of your lids. Your lower back starting to ache and a headache beginning to settle in after a long day of browsing through case file after case file, so far it's all minimal details that do nothing to catch your attention.
You look to the side of you, Bucky's draped over the table with his head laying on his arms- soft breaths puffing from between his pouting lips, his eyelashes fluttering as he floats through the throes of sleep. He looked abnormally soft and calm, the complete opposite of his usual wild smile and smug look.
The way his face was fully relaxed, smooth of any crinkling and unrestrained chaos, he was unfairly pretty.
You couldn't help but brush away the curl that fell from the crown of his head in front of his eyes, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he shifted slightly in sleep.
Bucky was enigmatic in all the ways that didn't make sense, but to you, all those qualities made him - him. He often got on your nerves and you often threatened to leave him behind but the truth was, you were loyal to him to a fault, all because he stuck by you with no complaint the day you two were assigned as partners.
You were the newest operative, an unconventional agent who, for the life of you, couldn't mesh with every other agent you were paired with. Your silence and stoicism unsettling or impractical for them. You didn't care much for it.
Your trauma stemming from a mission gone wrong that rendered you into a vow of silence.
Their need for your voice further pushing you to close that part of yourself off. Your CIA career going down the drain as a result leading you to where you are now, in an agency that specializes in espionage operatives for hire.
You can still remember that day you met Bucky Barnes, the over-eccentric agent who managed to exhaust every attempt of partnership within the bureau.
His face smudged with black gunpowder and a bloody busted lip that did nothing to dim his beaming smile and those blue eyes as he was introduced to you by your CO.
"I'll be transparent with ya, you're more than likely the 100th person I've been paired with," he's entirely unashamed by that fact as he shakes your hand with the friendliness of a golden retriever with no self preservation.
"No worries, I'll be the best partner you'll ever have!"
And from there came a collaboration of the opposites, two forces that somehow synergized so well together that there was not a doubt about you two being their top agents.
It was exhausting, both the reputation and him, but you couldn't possibly think of it being any other way.
He's your problem and you're his solution.
Fire to gasoline at worst.
Your fingers trace along his jawline, a faint smile on your face as he hums sleepily, leaning into your gentle touch.
You secure a fleece blanket around his shoulders, tucking it around his hunched over figure before settling back into your research.
-
You hear him before he enters the room.
he sing-songs your name loudly as he dramatically slams the door open, ever the drama queen he was.
As he's passing the threshold, he turns around, moon walking then spinning breaking into doing his little 'dancey dance' right in front of you as you sit on the table with your leg pulled up.
You can't help but roll your eyes at his demonstration, continuing to wipe down your pistol with careful hands.
His little grunts of exertion as he's dancing make you want to throw your rag at his head.
he grins at you with a twinkle in his eye, clearly very pleased with the upcoming topic. "Guess what, Snoopy,"
You sigh, placing your gun beside your thigh and slowly looking up at him, your eyes tracing over him. He's clean shaven and emanating his usual aftershave along with his favorite cologne - he's usually mindful of his looks and hygiene, but this bordered on more effort on his part, like he was looking to impress.
'Don't tell me you harassed the new receptionist,' You sign with a flat look, that exasperation building in your chest as you pinch your nose bridge not caring for the gun grease coating your fingertips.
His laugh is instantaneous. "Come on, I didn't harass her! She was totally into it," he smugly smiles at you, leaning in closer. "So much so, she agreed to a date!"
'You cost us our last receptionist, Barnes,' You respond in kind, your expression mocking his before it falls as you shake your head.
"True, but only because I mentioned the background check and her newest fraudulent tax claims.."
'It's not easy being a receptionist in this economy,' You motion, shrugging as you wipe off the residue from your fingertips.
"Perhaps I came off as too intense?" He hums with a smirk before biting it down, scrunching his nose at you playfully.
'Intense doesn't cover it, more like stalker-ish,' You mirror his smirk, hopping off the table with ease.
"Occupational hazard, Sweet-face," he grins, swiping his finger over your nose bridge, rubbing the grease between his fingers.
You huff in amusement before you smooth down his shirt over his shoulders and slick his hair back with a raised eyebrow, signing. 'Behave out there, Barnes. We prefer to have a receptionist within our midst.'
"No promises, I like to keep you guessing." He says as he tips your chin with his finger before he's moon-walking towards the door bumping into it like an idiot, winking at you on the way out.
-
This is the 5th time in 10 minutes that Bucky has tugged at your hair, each and every time you smacked his hand away as if he was a pesky gnat, which in your head, he was.
'Why are you being so clingy?' You turn to him abruptly, your signing exuding your exasperation.
He tilts his head, his cheek pressed into his palm.
"Just missed you s'all," He says slyly, making a kissy face tipping towards you, it doesn't take you a second to push him away- your palm pressed against the middle of his face, your distaste clear on your face.
'Kiss me, and you're losing more than just your life.'
He giggles, nipping at your finger in retaliation. "Be still my beating heart, you flirt,"
'Please, shut your face.' Your forehead smacks on to the table with a loud thud, you definitely regret getting him that double shot espresso Red Eye with whip cream and caramel drizzle, he insisted- insisted was too nice of word- more like begged for.
You just hope his caffeine high would crash down on him before your wrath did.
'I need you to focus, you himbo,' Your hand grips his chin firmly, trailing his attention back to you, he grins. 'Our client is coming in. CO arranged a meeting for that big score you somehow attained.'
"Oh hell yeah! First impressions!" His voice muffled from his pursed lips as you squeezed his cheeks in between your fingers, your eyebrows furrowing with a tiny frown.
You release him from your grasp, your signing stern. 'I need you to be sane,' You poke the middle of his forehead, his head lightly bobbling from the movement. 'No crazy expositions and unnecessary rants again.'
The slow crawl of a smile slips onto his face as he pinches your cheek. "Sweet-face, you're cute when you worry,"
Your face is blank as you resist the urge to sigh. He's so infuriating- but the fondness that warms your chest overruled that fact more than you'd like to admit.
"We're a 5 star duo, we've never disappointed," his face falls into something softer, a flicker of reassurance in his blue eyes "I wouldn't let you down, Y/n."
You huff out of your nose, the corner of your lips tugging in a sideways smile. 'I don't doubt you, Bucky.'
His chest deflates subtly, your eyes immediately catching it - you're suddenly all too aware of your rising heartbeat. He truly valued your opinion of him.
You mattered to him.
He clears his throat, his hand rubbing the back of his neck before he tugs at your hair again. "Then it's a good thing you have faith in my pro no-bono method."
And the moment is dead.
'I hate the pro no-bono method!'
-
The thing you dreaded most other than Bucky's shenanigans was his first impressions. It always ended poorly on your behalf.
Whilst you tried to maintain a point of professionalism and poise, Bucky was the pin to that outlook each and every time.
You have no idea how your CO could bear to go through these meetings. You were barely surviving them without,
A. Wanting to jump through the nearest window despite being 30 floors high and,
B. Wanting to kick Bucky down the first elevator shaft you come across, but you supposed those were the trials and tribulations of being acquainted with the one and only Bucky Barnes.
The mischievous smile that threatened to break out across his face pulled an exhaustion that emerged from deep within your bones - the feeling appearing as an ache did when the cold winds picked up outside.
'Bucky, please. You look like you're holding back an aneurysm,"
His eyes were glued to the double doors with a strange excitable intensity, awaiting the honored client, but the quick glance over let you know he knew exactly what you signed.
"Hush, Gromit. I'm trying to focus here."
An indignant huff escapes your lips involuntarily, your lips falling into a frown as you glare at the side of his face, only causing him to smirk as he feels your gaze on him.
'You're insufferable, Barnes.'
You turn away, not bothering to see if he caught what you said, walking over to your CO's desk and roughly flipping open the client's file, your eyes scanning over the general information.
It was interesting enough.
Son of a corrupt CEO, in need of experienced espionage operatives to steal valuable asset information. Highly dangerous, could potentially end in shed blood.
Okay.. Typical Friday night.
"Glare any harder and you'll set the file on fire," He hums teasingly, his hands landing on the desk leaning towards you with a coquet smile- no doubt his way of distracting you from your grumpy mood before your scheduled meeting.
You supposed he was sweet for the thought, but you can see through him too well. He was only trying to soften the metaphorical blow to your ego once he transitioned into his characteristic 'first impressions'.
Your eyebrow twitches in response.
He blows you a kiss.
Right on schedule, your CO and client walk right through those double doors with the swagger of men who wanted to get down to business, and you could respect it, but you knew it wouldn't last long.
Your CO throws a pointed look at Bucky, his arms crossing and his lips pulled into a disapproving frown- he can feel the chaos that stirred up in the blue eyed man as soon as they walked into the room.
"Mr. Wells, I'd like to introduce you to our most elite members, Bucky Barnes and Y/n L/n." He gestures with a tight smile.
Bucky's contemptuous smile almost tempts you to smile slightly yourself- Perhaps you two had every reason to be boastful in your work.
You make your way around the desk, standing behind Bucky, nodding your head in greeting.
"What's good, man. We're the lowly souls at your disposal," Bucky simpers, a shit eating grin leveling his face.
Your head immediately snaps to stare at the side of his face, your mouth slightly parted in dismay.
Mr. Wells laughs in response, his brow raising in amusement. "Nice one, appreciate it."
You almost sigh in relief that Mr. Wells took Bucky's words with a grain of salt - 10 different scenarios flashed before your eyes from the idiot's comment alone.
Your eyes trail warily over to the trio as they slip into standard talk of the mission, you lean against the front of the desk with your arms crossed, listening into the more important details, trying to drown out Bucky's incessant side comments.
He's so lucky he had a cute face, or otherwise, his life would be on hard-mode from his cheeky mouth alone.
You couldn't help but disassociate as you stare in their direction, only snapping out of it when their conversation catches your attention at the mention of you.
"Does she do that a lot?.. Stare like that?" Mr. Wells asks curiously, his gaze shifting to Bucky.
Bucky grin hooks the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, I like calling her 'Silent but Deadly'."
"Like.. a far-?"
"Yeah." Bucky cuts him off while shrugging, and you don't even give him a moment to revel in his amusement as you slap the back of his head, his head jeering forward by the force.
A choked laugh tears from his mouth as he cradles the back of his head. "See?"
Your glare is searing as you lift your hand up again in a threatening manner, and Bucky giggles boyishly, putting his hand up in surrender.
That metaphorical blow to your ego was enough for you to commit both treachery and homicide. He's so lucky that he had a cute face.
-
Okay, this isn't anything like a typical Friday night.
You figured that this would be harder than the standardized ops you were usually sent on, but you never thought you would be up against a small militia of men that Mr. Wells' father had on guard.
The drive that sat in your pocket felt as if it was burning a hole against your thigh as you pressed against your hiding spot away from the men's scanning eyes.
You had been separated from Bucky, and you felt as if you were gonna throw up your heart from anxiety as you clutched the fabric of your shirt tightly.
Your comms have been intercepted, and you couldn't risk using them. you just wanted to find Bucky more than anything. The thought of him in need of your help caused your breathing to pick a more panicked pace and a flustered haze encompassed over your brain.
You needed to move forward.
There was no way in hell you would be leaving this place without him.
You ran up the hall, hiding behind a wall when you peeped two men running up the staircase, their voices carrying with rugged urgency. "He's up on the renovated floor! Trap him in!"
Your mind raced as you thought back to map layout of the building. The renovated floor is the 21st floor.
You slammed your shoulder into the stairwell door, immediately pointing your gun in the men's direction as you determined their positions from their loud footsteps.
Your bullet made its way into the first man's leg, he yelled out in pain, his gun slipping from his hand and down into the endless spiral of stairs. The second man runs back down in an attempt to save his partner but you're quick to make a head-shot and run up in a hurry, shooting the first man without a second to spare as you pass him.
You can hear the commotion from the renovation floor, the gunfire and screams bouncing off the stairwell walls with a vengeance, and you ignore it as best as you could - steeling your emotions.
You don't bother with stealth as you roll into the hall, staying low to avoid the bullets sent your way, you shoot up from your low position- landing each shot with practiced precision.
You run forward toward the end of the long hall, a choked breath trying to rip from your chest as you hear yells from the boardroom.
You quickly reload, throwing your empty cartridge to the side as you slam into the room.
Your world slows as you pass the threshold, watching your partner lose his footing as he falls through the broken window behind him as he dodges the knife swinging toward him.
"BUCKY!"
Three shots resonated through the air.
-
Your voice rang through the air, and it seemed all else was drowned out as he heard you call out his name.
His arm ached with the burning pain as he held onto the ledge of the building, glass digging into the delicate skin of his fingers, piercing them with the promise of scarring in the near future. He could feel his right arm tremble viciously as he threw his other arm up in an attempt to pull himself up. Blood dribbled down his skin in red rivulets.
What shook him most right at this moment is that while he feared falling to his death, he was dreading dying without seeing you one last time.
He wanted to see you. He bit his lower lip hard, hard enough that he tasted iron. He wanted you more than anything right now.. so much so he heard what he thought was your voice as he fell..
Did he imagine you calling out his name?
That question quickly died out when you urgently grabbed his forearm using all the strength you could possibly muster, your eyes glassy, and your expression so desperate as you clutched onto him to pull him into safety.
He could hear the panic-stricken pace of your breathing. He's seen you like this once before and it destroyed him as it did before, and as he's pulled over the ledge, his chest both somehow constricted and expanded as he instantly pushed himself into your space.
You're here. He's so relieved and grateful that you're once again here for him.
"You're an angel, both physically and vocally." He says breathlessly as he grabs the back of your head, pressing a hurried kiss to your forehead.
He knew the humorous compliment after a near death experience was certainly a choice, but he didn't worry about it as he knew that you could see right through him. You always did.
When you two were safe and sound, he would properly handle it. You weren't the only one who could feel the remnants of dark doubt that hung over the two of you.
Your lips pull back in a relieved smile as you grip onto his shoulders, an exhaustion radiating off you as you shakily tilt your head.
Bucky quickly pulls you behind him, ducking behind cover as he hears the oncoming footsteps of men stomping their way down the hall. His hand grazing over his flash bomb and double-checking his ammunition in his gun.
You settle next to him, your expression schooling itself immediately with practiced ease, your hand pulling back the hammer of your pistol, emptying itself of the hollow shells.
"Bucky.." His head whips back in your direction, breathless as he awaits your next words.
You stick out your pinky. "You promised." Your voice is low and shaky from disuse.
There's a dazed look in his eyes - as if all other surrounding sound didn't matter to him but your voice.
The quintessence of all that was worthy of reverence.
'Oh fuck.' Crosses his mind within a split second.
He doesn't hesitate to wrap his pinky around yours, pulling your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles with vigor.
