C h e m i c a l s
Writer’s Month - August 1st
Prompt: Chemistry Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Synopsis: A lab explosion leads to you and Bucky suffering the side effects of the chemicals—your version of sex pollen. Tags/Warnings: Bucky/Fem!Reader, pining, NSFW, shower sex, getting together. Word Count: 2585 Notes: Starting Writer’s month with a bang (literally). This is my longest fic so far. It wasn’t meant to be an NSFW one, but that’s what my brain decided it wanted. Consider this my version of a sex pollen fic. It is long, but I hope you enjoy it!
Find Logan's Day 1 here - Shachi/Reader/Penguin, Anniversary Prank
That... shouldn't have happened. The thought flashes through your mind as you watch the remnants of your chemical mixture dispersing into the air. Your hand rushes to cover your mouth and nose, but you know it's too late. You've already inhaled some of it. Though not lethal—which is somewhat reassuring—the real problem is that you have no idea what effects these chemicals might have on you.
You had been experimenting—against everyone's warnings—to discover how the supersoldier serum worked. Not to recreate it, but out of pure curiosity because of Bucky. While you claimed your interest stemmed from the chemical aspects, how it had altered his DNA to transform his body, deep down, you knew you were doing it to learn more about him.
Bucky was always there with you—training, watching movies, sharing midnight snacks when he found you awake at night. You had learned that he rarely slept, and when he did, nightmares would wake him. Sometimes you would stay with him after he dozed off during a movie or show. You didn't know if your company helped him sleep better, but you hoped it did.
You two were close, but a part of you ached for even more closeness. These feelings sometimes kept you from getting closer to him, as you didn't want to risk heartbreak—not when you needed to stay focused on the missions assigned to all of you.
The mask that should've been on your face sat on the table behind you, and you now regretted not wearing it. Thankfully, you were alone in the lab; the risk of exposure for others was zero—or so you thought until you saw the laboratory door open.
Your hand left your face in a quick attempt to yell, "Do not breathe in!" But it was too late. Bucky was already inside and right next to you, breathing in the compounds that lingered in the air.
"I heard an explosion. Are you okay?" He looked at you with worried eyes, trying to see if you had been hurt, ignoring your warning about not breathing in.
"I'm okay. It was just some chemicals, which we shouldn't be breathing in," you reminded him again, but it was too late. You both had been exposed to them already, consequences unknown.
Instead of covering his face, Bucky's hand moved to cover yours. It was bigger than your hand that had been over your mouth before, and it felt warmer.
"That was not what I meant," you mumbled against his hand. He needed to protect himself, too.
"I'm sure it won't affect me, but what if it affects you?" His question showed genuine concern. He wanted to protect you, but you wanted to tell him that being a super soldier didn't mean he was immune to everything.
"You have to go and change clothes. Let's go."
Before you could even reply, Bucky was rushing you out of the laboratory. "I need to clean before anyone else enters," he said. Finally, outside, he removed his hand from your face, and you could speak clearly.
"You change. I'll clean it." Bucky nodded as if it was the most logical solution, but you worried. He wasn't a lab guy. And you really didn't know what effects the mist could have on both of you.
You had been analyzing DNA and its effects on hormone enhancements. Adrenaline, oxytocin, dopamine... you'd probably be okay.
He was pulling you to your room, checking on you as you both walked—or more like, ran.
Inside your room, he checked on you once more before he left to go clean. "Get rid of those clothes. You need to change. What if your skin starts turning red?" Bucky had no clue about the things you did in the laboratory, especially when it related to studying his enhancement. You wanted to explain that it was unlikely to happen, and that even if it did, you both had inhaled enough that it would affect more than just your skin.
That was a thought you didn't want to entertain.
Bucky had left you to go back to your lab. Inside, he could see dust particles floating in the air, though the atmosphere had settled compared to when he first arrived. He grabbed one of the masks and put it on before starting to clean—knowing you'd be upset if he hadn't taken this precaution.
Cleaning was straightforward: wiping down the floors and counters. He expected to finish quickly, but suddenly his entire body began warming up.
It was strange; he'd been fine just moments ago. Sweat trickled down his back. When he wiped his forehead, his skin felt like it was burning.
He tried to focus on his task, ignoring how his body seemed to be on fire. Worried it might be from the chemicals you both had inhaled, his thoughts turned to you—were you experiencing the same reaction?
The thought of you brought more than just concern. It unleashed something he'd buried deep inside himself for so long—something he could no longer contain. Longing. Desire. His mind drifted to your touch against his skin, your body pressed against his, his metal arm pulling you closer—he wanted you. He wanted you so desperately he felt he might explode.
His pants tightened uncomfortably, making his breathing quicken. Thinking about you only intensified his condition; his cock pulsed beneath his jeans, and he craved nothing more than to be buried inside you.
His mind fought against these feelings, but Bucky was losing the battle with himself. He wanted to regain control, to push these thoughts back where they belonged—at the edges of his consciousness—but he couldn't. He considered relieving himself right there, but anyone could walk into the lab.
He was in agony, with no clear solution.
It didn't take long for the chemicals to affect you too. As you removed your clothes, you felt your body burning.
Maybe Bucky was right, you thought—perhaps it could burn your skin. But this thought vanished when you noticed your racing heart and your nipples—now exposed to the air—becoming hard and sensitive.
Being a scientist, part of you understood what was happening, but you couldn't focus. All you could think about was the sensation overwhelming you, and Bucky.
Bucky. Was he experiencing the same effects?
You wanted to ask him, but getting dressed and walking to the lab seemed impossible. Instead, you grabbed your phone, dialed his number, and left the call open as you headed for the shower.
Logically, calling him and abandoning the phone made no sense, but logic had abandoned you. All that remained was heat and need.
With each step toward the shower, you felt yourself growing wetter, the friction of your thighs rubbing together made your breathing heavy and uneven.
A phone call distracted him enough to focus on something other than his intense desire for you. Then he realized who was calling.
"I'm still cleaning," Bucky tried to speak normally, too embarrassed to mention what he was feeling.
There was no answer, just the sound of running water. He figured you might be showering and had called by mistake—until he heard your voice.
"B-Bucky," it was soft and distant, but it was enough to make him abandon the laboratory like a man possessed. You had called his name in a way that would be etched in his memory forever. The phone call was forgotten by the time he reached your bedroom.
He should have knocked or announced himself as he entered your room, the bathroom door wide open. But he couldn't. Following your voice into the bathroom, the sight of you nearly brought him to his knees.
You were naked, bracing yourself against the wall, fingers moving desperately against your clit. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Your eyes were closed—Bucky wasn't sure if you'd heard him enter—but then you called his name again. A broken moan that he longed to hear from closer.
Bucky kicked off his shoes before stepping into the shower, still fully clothed—not that he cared about that now.
It was only then that you realized he had entered the room. In any other circumstance, you might have covered yourself or shied away—especially from him—but as he entered the shower, his clothes clinging to his body, your need for him only deepened.
Your fingers moved faster against your clit, craving as much friction as possible. Your eyes locked on the man before you. He looked different—like a predator who had finally cornered prey he'd been hunting for ages. His hands were clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. You could see him struggling for control, but control wasn't what you wanted. Not now.
"Bucky," you called louder this time, reaching for him with your free hand and pulling him closer. His chest pressed against your nipples as you guided his hand to replace your fingers. You needed him; he was the only thing that would satisfy you. "P-please."
Something broke inside Bucky when he felt your body against his. The last thread of his self-control snapped. He couldn't take it anymore—his cock throbbing painfully, desperate to be freed.
"Are you sure?" he asked while sliding his fingers through your slick folds, gliding easily through your wetness. "Fuck—you're so wet." Bucky wanted to wait for your answer, but his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. "Yes—yes, please, Bucky. I want you." You begged, grinding your hips against his hand, urging him to touch you more. The way his fingers moved against your skin sent shivers down your spine. "Kiss me."
Everything about you was driving Bucky closer to the edge, and when you finally said yes and asked him to kiss you, he couldn't wait any longer.
He moved you so quickly it left you dizzy. His metal arm wrapped around your waist, lifting you in one swift motion. Your legs encircled his waist, arms clinging to his shoulders before moving around his neck. Before you could think or speak, he kissed you. His mouth opened yours, his tongue seeking entry. He wanted to taste you, to feel all of you.
You moaned against his lips, returning his kiss with equal fervor. The shower surrounding you was forgotten as he consumed your senses. Your hips ground against him, seeking friction. Instinctively, you pressed against his hardness, whimpering at the contact—even through his clothes.
That slight touch had Bucky seeing stars. The pressure of his water-soaked clothes against his skin was unbearable, and feeling you against him only made it worse. "Fuck, doll, you're driving me crazy."
"Fuck me, Bucky." You needed it and couldn't wait any longer. If he made you wait, you felt you might explode. One hand moved to his pants, trying to unbutton them while still grinding against him. You couldn't get enough.
Bucky lifted you higher for a moment to help, yanking his pants and underwear down in one quick motion. It was your first time seeing him like this—naked, or half-naked—and hard. For you. He was impressively large, making you wonder if he would fit, but you desperately wanted to try. He was hard and ready; you imagined that without the water cascading over you both, he would be glistening with pre-cum.
His grip on your waist was firm, but you still struggled against it, trying to lower your hips to feel him against you. "Sweetheart—" Bucky began, somehow finding words despite his foggy mind, "I'm trying to control myself. I don't want to hurt you, but all I want to do is pin you down and fuck you."
A whimper escaped your lips at his words. They made you burn hotter, your core clenching around nothing. Everything felt simultaneously too much and not enough.
"Bucky. Fuck me. Make me yours," was all you could say. Finally, something shifted in his eyes. His metal arm moved you effortlessly, pressing you against the wall as he lined himself up and thrust into you with one swift movement.
You cried out—but not from pain. He felt perfect inside you, even though you weren't used to his size. Your body welcomed him as if made for him alone.
"Bucky!" Your nails dug into his back as he began thrusting relentlessly. You could only try to match his rhythm. He was stronger, and his grip barely allowed you to move.
Nothing had ever felt so good. Every touch scorched your skin, every thrust hit that perfect spot inside you—and all you could do was take it. With his pace, you knew you wouldn't last long. "Fuck, you feel so good," he praised between moans and grunts. Tension built in your core as he continued driving into you. "Bucky, I'm going to—" Your words were cut off by the wave of pleasure crashing over you. Another cry tore from your throat at its intensity. Bucky didn't stop, your walls clenching around him as he rode out your orgasm until he finally released inside you. "Fuck—" he groaned, his thrusts slowing but not stopping as he filled you, warming you from the inside out. You felt complete and blissful, yet something within you still craved more. Your hips moved against him again as you pulled back to look at his face, finding the same lingering need in his expression.
"What have you done to me?" he whispered, leaning to kiss you—softly this time. The desperation remained but was now controlled. "Technically, it was a mix of chemicals that—" You giggled as he kissed you again, cutting off your explanation of what you were sure was happening to both of you.
He reached to turn off the shower and kicked his wet clothes aside before carrying you to the bedroom, still inside you. The small movements as he walked were enough to keep him hard. He knew he would need more than one round to satisfy the feelings overtaking him.
When he reached the bed, he withdrew briefly, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. You could feel his release dripping from you, making your cheeks flush. Bucky didn't give you much time to think before he was above you again, sinking back inside. "So good. You take me so well." With one hand, he removed his soaked—now nearly transparent—white shirt. You reached for his dog tags, pulling him closer. "I'm yours. Make me yours," you begged, your mind clouded by sensation and the thrill of finally kissing him, being with him. You loved him.
"My needy girl," he murmured against your mouth, though he was just as desperate—not that he needed to admit it. He simply enjoyed knowing how much you wanted him.
Each moment you shared that night felt better than the last. Even as the chemical effects began to fade, neither of you could get enough. It was as if your bodies were making up for all those months of silent longing.
You weren't sure how much time had passed, but now you lay wrapped in Bucky's arms, eyes closed, head resting on his chest. You had never felt as content as you did in that moment, your heart full and cherished.
"Who would've thought that all I needed to get you to want me was a bunch of chemicals exploding in my lab," you joked, not bothering to look up. You were too comfortable to move. "Darling, I've wanted you for so long before this. The chemicals only gave me the courage to risk everything to have you," he replied, and you knew he wasn't joking.
"God, I love chemistry, and you."
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