when you and bucky went on a date (bucky x reader)
The restaurant buzzed with the low hum of conversations and clinking silverware, but your date with Bucky Barnes felt like it was sinking into quicksand.
You'd been set up by mutual friends—something about him needing to 'get out more' after his latest mission, and you being the adventurous type who could handle a guy like him. But from the moment you sat down across from him in that dimly lit Italian spot, the spark just wasn't there.
Bucky was all brooding intensity, his metal arm glinting under the candlelight as he picked at his pasta, answering your questions with short, clipped responses.
You tried—god, you tried—cracking jokes about his super-soldier stamina or asking about his time in Wakanda, but he just nodded, his blue eyes distant, like he was humoring the whole thing.
By dessert, the awkwardness had thickened the air between you. You stirred your tiramisu without eating it, stealing glances at his sharp jawline and the way his dark hair fell over his forehead. He was hot, no denying that—tall, built like a wall of muscle, with that quiet confidence that screamed control. But the conversation? Dead end after dead end. When the check came, he paid without a word, standing up and shrugging on his leather jacket. 'Walk you to your car?' he asked, voice gravelly, not quite a question.
You nodded, grabbing your purse, the night air cool against your skin as you stepped outside. The street was quiet, lined with parked cars under the glow of streetlamps. You fumbled for your keys, mumbling a polite 'Thanks for dinner, even if it was... interesting.' He stopped you with a hand on your arm—firm, unyielding, his flesh fingers warm through your sleeve. Before you could process it, he turned you toward him, his body crowding your space, and crushed his mouth to yours.
The kiss hit like a freight train. His lips were demanding, parting yours without hesitation, his tongue sweeping in to claim every inch. You gasped into it, your hands instinctively grabbing his jacket as heat exploded low in your belly. All the pent-up frustration from the failed date ignited—his dominance pouring over you like a wave, making your knees weak. He backed you against the nearest wall, the brick rough against your back, his metal arm bracing beside your head while his other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You melted, surrendering the control you'd clung to all night, your body arching toward his solid frame.
'Get in the car,' he growled against your lips, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, his pupils blown wide with hunger. It wasn't a request. Your heart hammered as you nodded, sliding into the passenger seat of his black SUV. The drive to his place blurred by—his hand on your thigh, squeezing possessively, inching higher with each red light. By the time he pulled into the driveway of his secluded brownstone, you were aching, wet and desperate, the tension coiling tighter.
He didn't waste time once inside. The door barely clicked shut before he had you pinned against it, his mouth devouring yours again. His hands roamed—rough, commanding—yanking your blouse open, buttons scattering across the hardwood floor. 'You have no idea how long I've wanted to shut that smart mouth of yours,' he murmured, voice low and dangerous, nipping at your jaw as he shoved your bra up, exposing your breasts to the cool air. His mouth latched onto one nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing just enough to make you cry out. You clutched his shoulders, nails digging in, but he grabbed your wrists in one massive hand—flesh and metal cold against your skin—and pinned them above your head.
'Tonight, you don't move unless I say,' he ordered, his free hand sliding down to cup you through your skirt, fingers pressing against the damp fabric of your panties. You whimpered, hips bucking instinctively, but he held you still, his gaze locking onto yours—intense, unblinking. 'Say it. Tell me you give up control.'
'I... I give up,' you breathed, the words tumbling out as surrender washed over you. His smirk was feral, rewarding you with a rough grind of his palm that had you moaning.
He released your wrists only to strip you bare—skirt hiked up and panties ripped aside, his fingers plunging into your pussy without preamble. Two thick digits curled inside you, stroking that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids, his thumb circling your clit with merciless precision. 'So fucking wet for me already,' he rasped, pumping faster, his metal arm holding your thigh open wide. You rode his hand, head thrown back against the door, but he pulled out abruptly, leaving you clenching around nothing. 'Not yet. Bedroom. Now.'
He scooped you up like you weighed nothing, carrying you down the hall to his king-sized bed, the sheets crisp and dark. He dumped you onto it, stripping off his shirt to reveal the sculpted planes of his chest, scars mapping his history. His jeans followed, cock springing free—thick, veined, already leaking pre-cum. You reached for him, but he batted your hand away, climbing over you to straddle your chest. 'Open,' he commanded, fisting his length and tapping it against your lips.
You obeyed, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of him as he fed his cock into your mouth, inch by inch. He groaned, hips rocking forward, fucking your throat with controlled thrusts—deep enough to make you gag, but he pulled back each time, letting you breathe. His metal hand cradled the back of your head, guiding you, while his flesh one pinched your nipples, twisting until you squirmed. Tears pricked your eyes from the stretch, but the dominance—the way he owned every gasp—had you dripping onto the sheets.
'Good girl,' he praised, voice husky, pulling out with a wet pop before flipping you onto your stomach. He yanked your hips up, ass in the air, and you felt the cool press of his metal fingers tracing your spine before slapping your cheek—sharp, stinging. 'Stay like that.' He knelt behind you, spreading your folds with his thumbs, breath hot against your skin. Then his tongue was there—lapping at your pussy, flat and broad, before spearing inside. He ate you out like a starving man, sucking your clit, teeth grazing your inner thighs, one finger—metal, unyielding—sliding into your ass while two flesh ones fucked your cunt. The dual sensations shattered you; you came hard, screaming into the pillow, walls fluttering around him.
But he didn't stop. He rose up, cock nudging your entrance, and thrust in with one brutal snap of his hips—burying himself to the hilt. You keened, the fullness overwhelming, his girth stretching you wide. 'Fuck, you're tight,' he grunted, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he set a punishing pace—pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, balls slapping against your clit. Each thrust angled just right, hitting deep, his metal arm wrapping around to rub your swollen nub while the other pulled your hair, arching your back.
You gave up everything—pushing back to meet him, begging with broken words: 'Harder, Bucky, please.' He obliged, flipping you onto your back without pulling out, hooking your legs over his shoulders to fold you in half. The new angle let him grind against your g-spot, his pace relentless, sweat slicking his skin as he chased his own release. 'Come for me again,' he demanded, thumb pressing your clit, and you did—orgasm ripping through you, pussy clenching around his cock like a vice.
He followed with a roar, burying deep and flooding you with hot cum, pulsing inside as he collapsed over you, both panting. For a moment, he softened, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to your forehead, his dominance easing into something protective. But as he pulled out, cum leaking from you, his eyes darkened again. 'We're not done,' he murmured, already hardening. The night stretched on—round after round, him taking you against the wall, on the floor, until dawn crept in, your body marked by his claim, utterly spent and satisfied in his unyielding control.
