the blood we’ve spilt
wintersoldier!bucky | vampire!reader
synopsis: you were one of hydras greatest weapons. a sick and malicious experiment from the moment you were born, you were meant to seduce and drain hydras enemies of their blood. when you weren’t off on missions they would deny you from feeding and take note of how your body reacted to the deprivation, because after all, you were their experiment. but when the winter soldier comes back out of cryo freeze again, you and him meet and form an unlikely alliance. you’d help him remember who he was and bring him back after turning into the soldier while he’d let you feed on him. what could go wrong?
themes: vamp!reader, forbidden love, torture, blood, sexual tension, violence, eventual smut, some tooth rotting one-liners
authors note: this is about 7k words, but i have so much more to say for these two so like it might just have to be a series
“because if i knew she wanted to kill me, i would let her. and god she would look beautiful doing it.”
it wasn’t much really.
at least that’s what you told yourself when the guard came to collect you for another mission.
he didn’t bleed that much.
those hydra assholes would purposefully starve you for weeks prior to a mission, only keeping you alive with occasional shot glasses of animal blood.
just enough to keep you alive and docile.
to keep you compliant.
it wasn’t your fault that the guard had a fresh cut on his knuckles that you could smell so deeply, so intensely, that you could taste it. fuck you needed it so bad.
“put your arms out of your cell,” he said unamused, already pulling a set of keys from his pocket.
you stuck your arms out for him and he clicks the cuffs undone. every movement he made felt heightened to you. you could hear the patter of his heartbeat and the blood coursing through his veins. next, he moves to open the cell door, being less vigilant than he should with someone that could drain him of his blood without even breaking a sweat.
but you weren’t going to feel bad for him now. not when he was the captor and you the captive. certainly not when no one else had taken mercy on you before, why should you?
you step out of the cage and he puts a hand on your arm to guide you out of the cell. you must’ve looked sickly from being starved because he didn’t seem afraid. he didn’t see how they had you starved so you could be feral and so that you created maximum bloodshed on the field.
he must not have known just how hungry you were right now.
you grin up at him as his hand pulls on yours. he opens the door to the room, the lock clicking open as the door creeps open ever so slightly.
you won’t waste this opportunity.
“wait sir,” you feign exhaustion, which wasn’t hard with how weak you truly felt.
the man sighs in annoyance, “what?”
“i haven’t stretched my legs in days, i just need a minute,” you huff and he seems to believe it, giving you a moment. you smile to yourself knowingly when he turns his head to peek out the door again.
poor thing didn’t see it coming.
now that your hands were free, you yanked his head down by his hair and attached your lips to his neck. teeth immediately sinking in, sucking out the sweet nectar you’d been smelling since the moment he entered the space. he screams but it was too late for him, your strength was already coming back, already giving you more than he could ever have. you gripped his throat tightly to keep him quiet, sinking your teeth in deeper and forgetting the heightened strength that came with this wrenched fate.
“shh, i just need a little,” you hummed against the guards neck. but you were already too far gone.
it felt too good.
you were never taught how to control yourself like this. you were encouraged to be animal like, and ruthless. so you continued to pull blood from him, and felt euphoric, like it was the only thing in the world that mattered right now. the bloodlust was back in full force. the way the blood controlled you was conditioned within you. you were conditioned to love the way the crimson would paint their skin and wrap around your hands.
you squeezed his neck harder.
snap.
you let go of him abruptly. his body goes limp and falls to the ground, hitting the cold concrete with a loud thump.
“shit,” you wipe the blood on the back of your hand. knowing you gave in to your urges a little too much, as always, and you hated it.
hated the control it had over you.
licking the blood dripping toward your chin, you looked down at his pale skin. you definitely drained him too much, he wouldn’t have made it either way, neck snapped or not. you slowly crept over him. that guy was an asshole anyways, you wouldn’t be mourning him.
you walk out from the door he so graciously left open for you before dying at your hands. having quite literally died in your hands, you couldn’t deny how good it felt, and it sickened you to no end.
you had to get away from this reminder of what you really were.
the hallway was dark like you remembered it always was.
you crept down the long corridor, not even sure what you were looking for. you had been starved not only from food but also from creativity and excitement.
you wanted something else to distract you.
something else to satiate you.
“longing, rusted, furnace,” a familiar voice called from a closed door at the corner of the hall.
“no please, not again,” an unfamiliar man spoke in a quiet voice—loud enough for you to hear the sadness in it. he sounded like he was in pain. you lean closer to the door the sounds emerged from.
“daybreak, seventeen,” you recognized he voice as alexander pierce as you crept closer. the unfamiliar man was panting loud enough for you to hear it through the door, like he had run a marathon.
finally, you could see through the little window on the door to see the man pierce was clearly torturing. a man with long dark hair and blue eyes sat there, his wrists restrained and a solemn expression on his face. something caught your eye though, something you had seen before. his metal arm with a red star etched on it.
pierce continued, “benign, nine, homecoming,”
a guttural sound escapes the man in the chair and it strikes your eardrums making you take several steps back. your movements catches the eye of the man with the metal arm and he turns his head making his eyes meet yours. his piercing blue eyes looked pained, but meeting yours he furrowed his brows slightly. he was gripping the chair he was sat in like it was keeping him alive, like letting go would kill him. you could’ve sworn you saw a tear roll down his face.
he shouldn’t be here.
you couldn’t see pierce from this angle but he seemed to notice the change in him, gripping his chin to turn back to him and continued, “one, freight car.”
then it was silent. eerily silent. the metal armed man was slumped over in his seat, slowly leaning back so he was staring up at pierce again.
pierce lets go of him and speaks again, a little red book in his hand snaps shut, “soldat?”
he doesn’t speak for a couple seconds but they felt much longer. his eyes suddenly looked colder than they did just a moment ago. finally he speaks, not seeming like he’s looking at pierce, but that he’s looking past him. he speaks in fluent russian.
“ready to comply.”
then you make the mistake of taking a step back, making your back hit the wall. the soldiers head turns to you again, tilting slightly. his hair draping beautifully along his face. his pink lips part and it almost makes you gasp.
he’s so…
you don’t even understand what you’re feeling, why his face looked good enough to eat. not like you wanted to kill him, not like how you looked at others. but you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck, in a different way.
pierce says something to him but lowly so now you couldn’t make out with all the other sounds in the building.
“fuck,” you mutter quietly to yourself, knowing you just got caught.
the door swings open and you tense as pierce comes out. pierce scowls at you, his metal toed shoes clicking as he approaches you.
“well now, why the hell are you out of your cell sweetheart?” the word said with so much malice it sounded like an insult. the little red book still clutched in his hand. the solider stared at you from behind pierce with a blank expression, still strapped into whatever the hell that machine was.
oh yeah i just killed your guard attached to my post, no big deal.
you knew you couldn’t tell him why you were out of your cell. but you also knew they would find the body real soon. you opt to say nothing knowing you were already fucked.
pierce scoffs accusatorially, like he already knew what you did. and you knew he did when he touched his ear piece before reaching into his pocket and staring at you like you’d personally offended him. he kicks you in the shin with his heavy foot, making your knees buckle.
“you vile creature, of course you couldn’t resist your disgusting urges,” his hand in his pocket comes out and strikes you with the back of his gun before you could speak. an action that wouldn’t kill you and would hardly hurt you anyways since you healed much faster than most.
you slip to your knees in submission.
he wouldn’t kill you.
not his most prized possession.
you tested their patience too often because you knew what came next. the cuffs clang behind you from the approaching guards. they click around your wrists as you’re hauled back up to your feet and shoved forward.
the body of the guard you’d killed was already on a stretcher in front of your room. blood pooling around the doorway. when you glanced back, pierce was whispering something to the soldiers ear, but his eyes weren’t on him.
his eyes were on you.
watching.
suddenly you were hungry again.
—
from the moment you were born, you were being monitored.
your birth mother had been experimented on and instead of prenatal vitamins, they dosed her with capsules of human blood. they’d inject her with serums and expose her to temperatures unsurvivable for humans.
and that’s why she didn’t survive.
but you did.
carved out of a corpse, it was almost ironic how it would mimic the rest of your existence.
it felt like a sick joke being played on you that you had nothing beyond this hellhole of a basement, surrounded by equipment you couldn’t pronounce and russian words you were forced to learn.
but the worst part was pierce.
when he would come into the room you knew something would be taken from you. usually blood. sometimes flesh.
he was cruel after all.
“bare your teeth for me,” pierce says as soon as he steps into your room. the door shutting abruptly, immediately you snap out of your thoughts, showing your teeth and letting it reflect the small light dangling in your room. he steps forward, bringing his candle closer. his other grimy hand shot up to grip your chin through the bars of the cell.
he’s fucking lucky, if my hands weren’t cuffed behind my back i’d-
he reaches out and touches your face in way that could be mistaken as the way someone would touch a lover. you recoiled in disgust. he scoffs and his fingers then dig into your chin roughly. like he’s trying to prove a point. he brings the candle stick to the side of your neck, burning through the flesh. you let out a sharp cry, trying to reach for him despite knowing your wrists are cuffed behind you. he pulls your mouth open and looks you dead in the eye.
“stick your tongue out,” he orders you.
you know better than to disobey. the last time you did, he didn’t feed you for a month and by that point you’d already drank blood from a skittering rat. you shivered thinking about it again. so you stick your tongue out like he said.
he grins at you, “so you can listen hmm?”
the flame is brought up to your tongue and burns the tip of it, you yelp in pain again but this time he’s unwavering. his other hand leaving your chin and yanking your tongue out further. fire was one of the only things that could truly hurt you.
his cold eyes bore into yours.
he’s enjoying this.
“the next time you think of disobeying me, think of this.”
—
you sat in your cell staring at the faint red stain in front of the door, where someone had scrubbed it hard trying to get the blood out.
the taste of burnt flesh lingered in your mouth even after pierce left and your wound scabbed over itself. at least when they’d teach you a lesson, the marks would rarely last.
at least you can thank your vampirism for that.
still staring at the ground and running your tongue on the roof of your mouth, the door to your room swung open. the person emerging from it was definitely not who you expected. you stand from the concrete, cause they didn’t even give you the luxury of a bed anymore. pierce would say you didn’t earn it.
the solider steps closer to your cell.
his expression stoic and unconcerned. you shamelessly stared him down, taking in his broad shoulders and huge biceps. his metal arm tightened when your eyes paused on it for a second. when you looked up, his blank eyes bore into yours, but you maintained your gaze matching his intensity.
“what do you want,” you spat the words at him. but something was pooling within you from the moment he walked in.
something you had never felt before.
he tilts his head at you, stepping a little closer. his mask covered his mouth and you imagined a flash of what his pink lips looked like when they parted. recalling that memory. you couldn’t help but think of him strapped to that chair, helpless. imagining what i’d be like for him beneath you, helpless under you when you sunk your teeth into the fleshy part of his-
“you are to join me today.” he spoke in russian. yours was rusty from a lack of use and socialization but you understood him nonetheless. you’d almost forgotten you were supposed to go on a mission before you killed that guard.
after you blinked at him a few times he stepped closer to the cell, unlocking it. showing an odd amount of trust for you.
he steps behind you gripping the chain holding you down with his metal arm. he’s about to yank it when you speak, “i already tried that it’s down pretty-“
he cuts you off again when he pulls the chains out from under the concrete. you gasp in genuine shock. he was stronger than you thought? you’d never seen anyone stronger than you before and this was terrifying. but also oddly arousing?
you were confused by your own thoughts right now not knowing if you wanted to drain him of his blood or of something else. you cursed your heightened senses and emotions making you feel this way about the first attractive man you’d seen in years.
he moves out of your way and walks past you, his stoic demeanour never faltering.
you follow after him, striding side by side through the corridor, “where are we going?”
he doesn’t respond. you sigh, “you gonna tell me anything?” he grunts in response.
“whatever,” you follow him into the familiar room where you’d dress before your missions.
like routine, you slipped off your tunic and grabbed your tactical suit. the heavy duty black suit made of nylon and spandex was often replaced with a newer version but it didn’t stop the memories from flooding back to you when you saw it.
memories of the men you’d killed.
so many that you’d lost count.
the pools of blood you’d created with nothing more than the teeth behind your lips. you clear your throat, remembering where you are and how little you were wearing with your tunic off now.
from the corner of your eye you could see bucky standing there with his arms crossed, but he wasn’t looking at you. for some reason that offended you. you grumble to yourself as you slip on the tactical suit and buckle your belt, holstering on your array of daggers.
not that you needed the daggers anyways.
you stride back towards him, “so what’s the mission?” he still doesn’t respond, like he’s reading off of a script and he wasn’t allowed to stray from it. you step closer to him.
“are you going to at least tell me your name?” he stares down at you. you weren’t short, but he was just much larger than you, easily towering over you. his heartbeat didn’t falter around you, it was steady and slow, like he was unfazed.
only then did you think back to how pierce had his demeanor shift from solemn to stoic in seconds. you’d heard of mind control and first hand experienced the conditioning of hydras chambers, but was this that?
might as well find out.
now inches from him, you speak viciously, “you’re just a mindless little puppet for them then?”
that ticked him off and he roughly shoved you into the wall he was leaning against, his hand going up to grip your throat.
“there he is,” you rasped out with a smirk tugging at your lips, your hands shooting up to grip his wrists as he held you up higher so your feet were now dangling.
“don’t. call. me. that.” venom seeping through his speech.
you furrow your brows. this was not the man you saw tied down in pierces chambers. no this was someone else.
without thinking your hands moved from his wrists to his sides of his neck, touching his pulse point. he tenses immediately, lowering you slightly so your toes could reach down to the ground. his jaw tightened, he looks down to his hands around your neck then at your reddening face.
“mean grip you got there soldier,” you pant out, struggling to get a breath in.
the tips of his lips curl slightly in amusement.
no one ever speaks to him like this as if they aren’t afraid of him and his displays of power. he dips his head in closer, taking a deep breath from the crook of your neck.
you’re beyond confused now.
he pulls back to look at you and after a minute, lets go of you, letting you land on your feet completely and taking a step back.
“follow me.”
the mission was a fucking breeze.
the solider definitely didn’t need you for it or you didn’t need him. but pierce didn’t trust you right now. after the stunt you pulled, killing a guard just for the hell of it, he wasn’t gonna let you go off on a mission without assurance.
to pierce, the soldier was that assurance. and you knew you were in for hell when you got back from the mission.
you walk back toward the soldier after he’d taken down at least a dozen guards without breaking a sweat. you’d watched him move with efficiency and care that felt methodical and almost robotic. like every single move he made was well thought out and planned like a roadmap and a destination. he stood back in his straight position like he was waiting for another order.
for someone to tell him what to do.
you approach him warily, “will you tell me your name now?” he turns to face you again.
he bends to pick up his knife from the center of someone’s chest. “earn it. nothing here is free.”
you scoff, “earn it huh? you think you’re that special soldier?”
he eyes you down, taking in your appearance, “you might look the part but i haven’t seen you do any work, bloodsucker,”
now we’re getting somewhere past three word sentences.
you laugh humourlessly, not paying mind to blood spilt all around you. not caring for the bloodlust coursing through your veins because right now, you only wanted it from one person.
he was standing in front of you.
slowly you approached him again, legs moving around the riddled crimson and boots squelching under the sticky surface. his eyes never looked away from yours like they were evaluating and you couldn’t look away either. the bubbling feeling in your stomach from earlier emerged again but now it was demanding attention and you needed to satiate it. his eyes travelled down your face and over your chest as you came inches away from him.
it’s like everything in you was screaming to lean in, take a bite. telling you to give in to the greatest desire you’ve ever felt.
something in his face shifted there, his eyes travelled back up to your face and you could see it. the humanity in his eyes and fuck that excited you so much more. you pressed yourself against his chest, hand moving up to his metal arm and placing it around your waist. it was all happening too fast for him to comprehend it and it was all too much compared to his daily activities of combat and assassinations.
then his breath hitched.
and the grin you gave him was the most wicked he’d ever seen. your teeth on display, sharp and aching to sink into something.
aching to sink into him.
“ah there is someone in there huh? someone beyond this facade?” you give each of his eyes attention before leaning your face closer to his, breath ghosting over where his lips are hidden. you could hear his heartbeat now, quickening, unlike before where it remained unchanged and it felt so good to have this affect on someone like him.
he looks like he wants to say something but that damn mask was blocking half his face still. you reached up and gripped it tightly, pulling it down his face and revealing his ridiculously attractive face.
you didn’t think you’d ever get used to it.
he stood up taller, not doing anything to you but not exactly stopping you either. his stoic demeanour was being replaced by a different version of him. like a person with flaws and hurt that you could understand. like someone you could relate to and see yourself in.
gulping that unfamiliar feeling down and the hunger subsides at the softening of his gaze. your finger grazes over his chin and up, tracing his jawline.
then he does something insane.
he leans in.
you blink up at him. he is basically inviting you in. telling you to touch him and you weren’t gonna let that moment pass you.
you’re not one to let moments pass you especially when they are so rare for you to come by. especially with a man as stupidly handsome as him. it was a mind numbing kind of attraction that you couldn’t deny— not now.
your body moving before you could even think, standing up on your toes now.
he smelt like leather and spearmint and for once you were not focused on the overpowering stench of drying blood around you.
why does he smell so good?
it’s like he could sense your confusion and wrapped his other arm around your waist too, keeping you flush against him. he didn’t waste another second, in fear that you’d pull away. his lips met yours and your eyes widened immediately, not expecting him to actually do it.
his flesh hand slips up to the back of your head while the other held your hip. pulling your hair ever so slightly so that you couldn’t move from him, giving him more access.
well, you could, but right now you didn’t want to.
that’s when you pushed further into it, hooking your fingers through his vest and gripping him like a vice. you lick along his bottom lip and take it between your teeth.
and then he groans. the sound rumbles within you and you completely lose it now, sinking your sharp teeth into his lip, drawing blood. he hisses and then pulls back. his hand goes up to his lip, touching the blood dripping down now and then his gaze flickers back up to yours.
you’ve got the real him now, not just the soldier.
“you bit me.” he blinks at you in confusion.
you lean back in with a slight smirk, licking the blood off his finger, “yeah i do that,”
he stares at you in awe, like he’d never seen anything like this before. there was no anger in his gaze.
you seize the moment, kissing him back this time. sucking the blood out from the bottom of his lip again, you couldn’t help but moan at the taste of him.
it was exhilarating. like nothing you’d ever tasted before.
but this time he doesn’t move back, he picks you up and drags your legs around his waist. he even tilts his head back for you, giving you more access to him. you so willingly take it, letting go of his lip and kissing him hard. like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. he lets out a delicious moan and you drink it up. you start kissing down his chin, the taste of his flesh making you feel hot all over. he groans again, and you’re so glad he’s vocal as you reach his neck because it stops you from biting him again.
for some reason you didn’t want to hurt him. but you do leave a deep purple mark where his neck meets his shoulder before pulling back. his eyes half lidded and the blood dripping down his chin now.
you lick it once again, moving from his chin up to his lips in a soft peck, contrasting how rough you just were with him.
for a couple seconds you both stare at the other, catching your breath. you both knew you only had minutes before you’d have to go back to the hydra base and you both looked completely flushed now.
finally he speaks.
“i’m bucky by the way.”
over the next week, bucky was nowhere to be found. but that didn’t mean much because neither were you.
once you returned from the mission with bucky, you were promptly ushered back into the cell, awaiting your next mission. now it had been over a week since you last saw him.
but pierce, he wasted no time, having you bled out as punishment for killing one of his own. he didn’t always do the punishments himself though. when you got back from the mission with bucky, he let his little scientists slit down your arms with a familiar dagger that was specifically created for hurting you. the kind that would slow down your healing enough for them to take blood and use for further experimentation.
pathetic little man, you thought to yourself.
blood dripping down to the concrete in a beautiful way. you’d admire your handy work, as if the droplets you left were little pieces to a grand painting you were centred within.
it was so much easier to hate pierce but you actually started to grow a little fond of him. his consistency to punish you for any wrong doing, it made it substantially more possible for you to predict his next move. and made it so much harder to hate him because the one thing you appreciated was a man of his word.
a man who did what he was told and followed through on it.
a man like bucky.
no, god, what the fuck. what’s wrong with me?
you shift around on the concrete, still reeling from being bled out for days on end. for some reason your mind kept going back to bucky and kissing him. the way he smelt was still engraved in your mind and you wanted kiss him again. you wanted to do more than kiss him if you were honest. you’d only ever been with people you were assigned to, only doing your job, creating fake relationships, seducing, and ultimately killing them.
bucky was like a breath of fresh air, and you’d never even scratched the surface with him.
you’re pulled from your spiralling thoughts when a single glass was slid into your room through the tiny door. the glass slide across the floor and toppled over and you groaned dramatically. of course the one time you’re receiving blood again, it spills over.
“oh” you huff out a breathy laugh, “great, just my fucking luck,” you reach out trying to touch the spilt blood through the bars. your fingers stretched out, itching to touch and taste blood for the first time in days. almost. you’re so damn close to touching it but the stretch is starting to sting, not that you care. you’re so focused you hardly hear when the door creeps open fully. you were starting to get disoriented again, which would happen by the third or so day they’d starve you.
if your counting was right, today was day 8.
the door creaks open and someone is roughly shoved into your room. followed by words in russian but you only registered a couple of them, looking up from your desperate attempt to have just a drop.
“she’s all yours, soldat”
it took you a second to realize what was meant when the door to your room was slammed shut. your hands clenched in preparation to fight, despite how drained you were. your eyes snapped up and you slowly backed away from your cell door, now unconcerned with the sliver of blood snaking just out of reach.
it was bucky.
“bucky?” you croaked as he took purposeful steps toward the cell. his fingers curled around the bar and he rattled it like he would just rip it off the hinges.
no, it was the soldier.
“there are keys you know,” you reminded him, unsure why you were even helping him.
for a beat, he stared at you, then the cage. then he turned around to the keys that was tossed in after him and picked it up moving back towards you. you gulped, a little afraid of how quiet he was being. you were usually the scariest thing in the room.
“you’re kinda scaring me bucky,”
he swung the door open to where you were chained to the concrete. like an animal. slowly he moved closer to you again and you could smell a hint of blood on him. the same sweet smell he radiated during your mission together that drove you absolutely insane got him. subconsciously you leaned closer, eyes darting up to meet his.
he was towering over you as you sat on the cold ground. you knew you were too weak to fight anyone right now, and you definitely didn’t want to fight him. you did not want to hurt a hair on his pretty head.
that’s when you saw the subtle cut on his cheekbone as his hair shifted to the side. it was still bleeding. just a slight cut, but you could smell it like a woman starved and you were exactly that.
“are you gonna hurt me?” you asked innocently, like you couldn’t hurt him right back.
his response was to bend down, meet your eyes with his own, “i-i don’t want to,” his voice was strained like he was at war with himself.
you furrowed your brows.
you’d seen him hurt people before and spill blood like it was nothing at all to him. like none of it mattered.
you could relate to that version of him. see yourself in the spilt blood on the ground below you and the one warring in the mind of the mysterious man in front of you. but you could see the way he was fighting with himself in his eyes and the way they twitched at the sight of you, pale and confused.
almost like he cared for you.
but he did care, he just didn’t know what to do with it. he was struggling so hard trying to fight his commands that his hands were shaking when they reached out for her.
it wasn’t normally this hard for him, but something about her was pulling him away from the winter soldier, making him feel like bucky again. the person he’d been forced to push down and act like never existed was resurfacing and it was scaring him. she could practically feel the tension radiating off him.
“take my cuffs off,” you spoke firmly, and he was thankful because a command was exactly what he needed. someone to guide him right now. his hands stilled at his side and then went to work. picking the lock of the chains with the keys they provided him with.
after all, the winter soldier was a good obedient weapon for them wasn’t he? why should hydra be fearful that he would stray from them now? especially when they were providing him with a girl to satisfy himself with. it wasn’t the first time those hydra agents spoke about you like you were a piece of meat.
still, you tried to push those thoughts down. the men you’d encountered while under hydra, you knew what they were capable of. despite how much you wanted him to be different, you tried to hold your guard up. trying to protect your cold and wretched heart.
once the cuffs clicked off and fell to the floor, he stared down at them with a shaky breath. for a killer, he didn’t seem very confident right now. he was almost panting, sweat beading down his forehead like he trying to hold back from something.
you try to fill the void.
“they sent you in here for me hmm?” he nods in response. but the look in his eyes almost looked like pity? or maybe it was despair?
“because i’m weak now? ‘cause i can’t fight back?” he nods again and your hands fall back into your lap, rubbing at the wrists.
buckys eyes trail down to the blood that was drying in front of the cell now, “that was for you to drink,” he stated rather than asked.
“yeah,” fiddling with your now free thumbs. his question reminded you of how he really wasn’t aware being shoved into your room, his mind on autopilot. your gaze trails down to the deep crimson on his knuckles, “does that scare you?”
truthfully, it intrigued him.
he’d never met someone as blood thirsty as he was at hydra, at least not someone who seemed mentally sound.
at least more than him.
“no, i just…” he trails off when he sees a smile lingering on your face. his eyes flicker over the sharp edges of your teeth, then back over to your face.
“you don’t scare me, you make me feel,” he says the last word with a question at the end, like he didn’t quite understand it himself.
his hand moves, lingering over yours like he wanted to do something but he was still fighting. you didn’t understand why he was fighting so hard, why he was under their control while you defied them. you couldn’t stop thinking of him strapped in that stupid leather chair and how quickly his demeanour changed around pierce.
you just didn’t understand how they had so much control over him.
“why do you let them control you?” the question burning in your mind. you hated the feeling of being controlled, it was why you killed as many hydra agents as you could because that made you feel like you had control. you knew pierce wouldn’t kill you so you used it as leverage.
he takes a deep breath, turning his head away, and his hand stills over yours, still not making contact. your hand goes up to his chin, tilting it towards yours.
“come on bucky give me a straight answer for once.”
he looks like he’s struggling again, the words caught in his throat.
what the fuck am i doing?
you give each of his eyes attention, trying to reach back into the humanity you saw from him a week ago. the flicker you were seeing now as he tethered between his identities. even surrounded by bodies and blood you’ve both spilt, bucky made you feel the most alive you had ever felt. you would do anything to feel it again.
you cup his cheek, your thumb mindlessly strokes his face, comforting him. his hand cups over yours on his face, leaning his face into your palm further. it felt electric, like you could melt in this spot. like the cold in your bones were heating up just at this small bit of contact.
and his gorgeous blue eyes. fuck, you could drown in them.
“they have… these words…. these trigger words that make me different.” he struggles trying to explain himself to you.
and it makes you feel this unfamiliar pain in your chest. something you hadn’t felt for someone in a really long time because how could you feel bad for shitty men you’re meant to kill or the shittier ones who you work for?
why was he any different to you?
and why did you want to kiss him again.
fuck me.
he spoke again, “i have an idea.”
you beamed at that, your concerns flickering away as you shifted a little closer. you stared at his metal hand, nervously rubbing a finger over the ribbed edges, mentally noting his nervous tick.
he’s nervous?
“what’s your idea?” you tried to sound calm and collected, like you weren’t mentally fucking him already.
“you need to feed right?” he blurts out, his gaze circling your sunken in eyes. he was examining you like you were one of his missions.
“right… so?” you were puzzled by his vague responses.
“so i wanna make a deal,” he bites his cheek once, his eyes flicker over your lips again quickly but it doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
you had him right where you wanted.
you smiled knowingly, “spit it out soldier,” he tenses at the nickname. letting out a small huff he continues.
“i thought i told you not to call me that.”
“well technically you said not to call you a hydra puppet, and also technically i don’t give a shit.”
“you’re impossible you know that. it’s no wonder they keep you in this cage.”
“at least i’m not running around doing exactly what they say and never defending myself,” when you said that, he looked at you like you’d really struck a nerve. his jaw clenches.
“i don’t have a fucking choice!” his voice sharper than you’d ever heard. your hand slips from his face. even when he had you pinned to the wall he wasn’t this affected.
wasn’t this emotional.
the winter soldier was not to be emotional.
you soften your voice just a little, regret lingering in your tone, you shift a little closer, like the proximity was an apology, “i know, i’m sorry. just spit it out bucky, what was your idea?”
he sighs, “you need to feed and i am sick of not having a choice okay, and you, somehow give me a choice,” he reluctantly looks back up at you, trying to see your reaction.
you blink hard at him. did he really just say that?
“what exactly are you proposing?” you weren’t sure you heard him right.
“i’m saying that you should feed from me.” his voice had never been clearer. when you were too stunned to speak, he doubled down.
“i want you to drink,” he puts his hand on your waist, pulling you closer, “come on i know what you are. i know how they’re starving you.”
you weren’t sure what to do with this new found offer. as tempting as it was, it felt too good to be true.
it wasn’t until he was practically begging you to drink his blood that you started to cave. his fingers curl around the nape of your neck, taking charge like you craved him too. but his tone, god his fucking tone, was whiny when he let out a simple plea for you to go on with it. a plea for you to believe him.
“please,”
a soft gasp left your mouth as you promptly took his hand in yours. you brought his wrist up to your mouth. with practiced sultry eyes you look up at him, nearly breathless from his words.
“you’re sure?”
he doesn’t miss a beat.
“god yes, please i want it,”
the way his eyes twinkled as he said it, you’d never seen anyone beg for something like this before.
you didn’t need any more words from him. your fingers dig into his leathered forearm, pushing up the sleeve and immediately wrapping your lips around his wrist. teeth wet with his blood. you couldn’t help as your eyes rolled back as relief washed over you. the deprivation had taken a harsh toll on you from being bled nearly dry.
and bucky just tasted so damn good.
you mumble against his wrist, blood dripping out the corners of your mouth, “tell me to stop, i can’t,” but he pulls you closer.
when you looked up at him, you expected him to look pained, or upset. maybe even angry enough to try and pull some stupid move like snapping your neck. but what you didn’t expect was for his lips to be parted. he let out a soft moan as his fingers tangled with your hair, keeping you there.
“don’t stop,”
you moaned in acknowledgment that you weren’t the only one enjoying this.
he was finding pleasure in this.
—
after really getting satiated, his arm started going limp in your hair. his head hitting the bars behind him and a soft groan escaping him.
you pulled back to look up at him, blood dripping down your chin. you felt guilty for how willing he was and how quickly you had lost control again.
“shit bucky i’m sorry, you should’ve stopped me, i should’ve-” you cut yourself off when you saw the look in his eyes. dazed and looking at you like he was starved this time.
he smiles at you, like you’d just done him a favour.
“thank you sweetheart,” he says breathlessly, his eyes half lidded before he shuts his eyes in exhaustion.
this was bucky talking now not the soldier who came into your room at first.
you gulp, trying to keep down the growing heat in your stomach. his tired form made you feel like blood wasn’t enough to keep you satiated this time. you scramble lifting the sleeve of your own wrist up and biting into the veiny part, drawing some of your blood. without letting him respond or move, you shoved your wrist into his mouth. his eyes widen once he realized what you were doing.
“shush just take it, it’ll help you heal i swear,” you urge him. the one thing you’d learned from these experiments hydra conducted on you was that your blood could heal people. it could reverse damages to regular people and slow down painful illnesses. it couldn’t cure things like cancer, but it could make it feel a whole lot better.
besides, you didn’t wanna be the cause of his death. not when things were just starting to get interesting.
he nods in response, letting in the blood pool into his mouth. you knew it couldn’t have tasted good to him but he stared up at you through his lashes like this was everything he needed. his pupils blown wide so you could only see a sliver of a blue ring. you had to say something to stop yourself from making this worse. you moved closer to him, cradling the back of his head against your chest as he willingly held your arm with both of his strong hands, drinking from you.
bloodletting and swapping straight from the vein was an intimate act, and you hadn’t done it before. right now it had felt so good, you didn’t want to do it with anyone else.
this felt right.
finally you pulled your arm from him, watching the sticky red lines string from his lips down to his chin. your lips part in a silent gasp.
holy fuck he looks good like this.
you let out a shaky breath at the sight of him, breathless and sweaty. his lips dripping in your blood this time.
“fine, i’m in.”
;) -> one shot: lessons in riding
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