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m4rv3l-girl · 2 days ago

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The Encounter

Bucky x Y/N

Set during civil war, Bucky goes to a bar in Romania…perhaps his love for plums might find him a lady….

Warnings: Smut. Unprotected P in v sex. Fingering. Daddy kink. Plums. 😉

The bar wasn’t anything special, tucked away in the less-trafficked alleys of Bucharest, a place where anonymity was as much a selling point as the cheap drinks.

The neon lights inside hummed faintly, illuminating the faded wooden bar and mismatched stools. The air carried the faint tang of spilled beer and cigarette smoke—a combination that could almost be called charming if you squinted hard enough.

Bucky liked this place. It was quiet, overlooked, and far removed from the chaos he’d left behind in Washington, D.C. He kept his cap low as he slipped onto a stool in the corner, his metal arm hidden beneath the sleeve of his jacket. Nobody here paid him much attention, and that was exactly the way he wanted it.

That was, until she walked in.

She didn’t so much enter as command the room, boots clicking against the sticky floor as she made her way to the bar. Her grungy yet effortlessly cool aesthetic set her apart: ripped jeans, a vintage band tee, and a leather jacket that had clearly seen better days. Her hair fell in soft waves, and when she slid onto the stool a few spaces down from him, her lips curled into a smirk as she flagged down the bartender.

“Plum martini, please” she said, her voice low and honeyed with an edge of sarcasm. “And make it strong.”

Bucky froze mid-sip of his beer.

Plums.

The request yanked him from his own thoughts, stirring something almost primal in him. He hadn’t tasted a plum in decades, but the memory of their sweetness, their simplicity, still lingered. He glanced her way, his curiosity piqued.

The bartender nodded, and within minutes, a martini glass was set before her. She wrapped her fingers around the stem, her rings clinking softly against the glass.

“Not the usual choice,” he found himself saying before he could stop himself.

She turned her head, her brows arching in surprise. Her gaze landed on him—blue eyes meeting hers—and her smirk widened.

“And beer is?” she shot back, taking a deliberate sip of her drink.

Bucky chuckled, a sound he hadn’t made in longer than he cared to admit. “Fair point, doll.”

Her smirk faltered, just for a second, before she set her glass down. “Doll, huh? Bold of you to assume I’d let you get away with that.”

“It suits you,” he said simply, shrugging one shoulder.

She studied him for a moment, her head tilting slightly as if trying to puzzle him out. There was something about him—his quiet demeanor, the way his shoulders hunched just enough to seem unapproachable, but not enough to feel entirely cold. The dark baseball cap didn’t do much to hide his sharp jawline or those piercing eyes that looked like they’d seen too much.

“Well,” she said finally, lifting her glass toward him. “If I’m ‘doll,’ what does that make you?”

He leaned back slightly, his lips twitching in a barely-there smile. “Depends. What do I look like?”

Her eyes flickered over him, sharp and assessing. “Like trouble,” she said, her tone playful but her gaze unwavering.

“Not wrong,” he muttered, taking another sip of his beer.

“What’s your name?” she asked, leaning her elbow on the bar as she turned to face him fully.

He hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He hadn’t used his name in a long time—hadn’t really needed to. But something about her made him want to offer something, even if it was just a piece of himself.

“James,” he said after a beat.

Her lips curled again. “James, huh? Classic. I like it. I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, testing the sound. It rolled off his tongue easily, naturally. He liked it, too.

She smiled and took another sip of her martini, and for a moment, the two of them sat in comfortable silence, the noise of the bar fading into the background.

“What brings you here, James?” she asked eventually, her tone casual but curious.

“Needed a drink,” he replied, deflecting. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, like she could tell he was holding back, but she didn’t press. Instead, she nodded toward his nearly empty beer. “Well, clearly, you need another. You stick to beer, or are you brave enough to try something new?”

He raised a brow, intrigued by the challenge in her voice. “What do you have in mind, Kitten?”

Her laugh was soft but genuine, and he swore he saw her cheeks flush slightly at the nickname. “You’re really doubling down on the pet names, huh?”

“They fit,” he said simply, his tone low and steady.

“Sure they do.” She waved the bartender over and ordered two shots of plum brandy. “You like plums, James?”

His eyes flicked to her, sharp and almost suspicious. “What makes you ask?”

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t know. You just give me... vintage vibes. And plums feel vintage, don’t they? Old-fashioned. Classic.”

The corner of his mouth twitched again, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen so far. “Yeah. I like plums.”

She grinned, triumphant, and slid one of the shots toward him. “Then this one’s on me.”

He studied her for a moment, the shot glass sitting untouched between them. She was bold, confident, and had an edge to her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But there was something else—something beneath the surface that reminded him of home, of the way things used to be.

With a slight nod, he picked up the glass. “To... plums,” he said, his voice tinged with dry amusement.

She clinked her glass against his. “To plums.”

They drank, and the burn of the brandy was immediate, warming him from the inside out. It wasn’t just the alcohol, though. It was her—the way she laughed softly as she set her glass down, the way her eyes sparkled in the dim light.

“So, Y/N,” he said, leaning closer, his tone teasing but her gaze steady. “What’s your deal? You just passing through, or are you sticking around for a while?”

“Depends,” she said, mirroring her earlier words. “What’s here to stick around for?”

He smirked, his gloved fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

She raised an eyebrow at his response, smirking as she leaned forward. “Oh, I see how it is. The mysterious type. Let me guess, James—you’re one of those guys who likes to stay quiet, brood in the corner, and make everyone wonder what’s going on in your head.”

Bucky tilted his head, her words hitting closer to home than she likely intended. “You saying that like it’s a bad thing?” he asked, his tone light but with a teasing edge.

“It’s not,” she admitted, swirling the remnants of her drink in her glass. “It’s intriguing. Gets people to ask questions. But it’s also a little predictable, don’t you think? Quiet guy, dark past, hiding out in a bar? Feels like I’ve read that novel before.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and almost sheepish. “Maybe. But not every story’s the same, Kitten.”

She leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other as she considered him. “Alright, then. Prove it. Tell me something that makes your story different.”

Bucky paused, caught off guard by the challenge. He wasn’t used to opening up, especially not to strangers. But there was something about her—something in the way she met his gaze without flinching, as if she wasn’t afraid of what she might find there.

“I don’t talk much about myself,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “Not to most people.”

“Why not?” she asked, genuinely curious.

He hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s... complicated.”

She rolled her eyes, though there was no real malice in it. “Everything’s complicated. You’ll have to do better than that.”

Bucky studied her for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Let’s just say I’ve made some mistakes,” he said eventually. “Big ones.”

Her expression softened slightly, though she didn’t let up. “Who hasn’t? The question is, are you trying to fix them?”

He blinked, her words striking a chord he hadn’t expected. It was such a simple question, but it carried a weight he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving his. “Honest. I like that.”

He frowned slightly, confused by her response. “You do?”

“Yeah,” she said with a small shrug. “Most people try to hide the messy parts of themselves. Pretend they’ve got it all figured out. It’s refreshing to hear someone admit they don’t have all the answers.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet, his fingers idly tracing the edge of his empty beer bottle.

“Alright, James,” she said after a moment, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Your turn. Ask me something.”

He raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by her sudden shift in focus. “What makes you think I’ve got questions?”

“Because everyone does,” she said simply. “And I’m an open book. Mostly.”

He considered her for a moment, then leaned forward slightly. “Why the plum martini?”

She blinked, surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t strike me as the fruity drink type,” he said, his tone even but his eyes sharp. “Figured you’d go for whiskey or something stronger.”

She laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Fair enough. But the plum martini’s got a little history for me. My grandma used to have this plum tree in her backyard, and every summer, we’d make jam together. She’d let me sneak a few plums while we worked, even though she pretended to scold me for it. Drinking this kind of reminds me of her.”

Bucky’s expression softened, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Sounds like she was a good woman.”

“She was,” Y/N said with a small nod. “Tough as nails, but with a soft spot for me. Guess I get my attitude from her.”

“I can see that,” he said, his tone teasing.

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment or an insult, James?”

“A compliment,” he assured her, the smile on his face growing just a fraction.

“Good,” she said, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand. “Because I was about to ask if you wanted to step outside and say that again.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You’d win, Kitten. No question.”

“Damn right, I would,” she said with a wink.

The playful banter continued, the walls Bucky had built around himself slowly starting to crumble. She was disarming in a way he hadn’t expected—sharp and witty, but also warm and understanding.

As the minutes stretched into hours, they moved from teasing quips to deeper conversations. She told him about her job at a local record store, how she spent her days surrounded by vinyl and vintage posters. He listened intently, asking questions and even surprising her with his knowledge of jazz and swing music from the ’40s.

“You really are an old soul, huh?” she teased, nudging his arm lightly.

“Something like that,” he said, his tone laced with something she couldn’t quite place—nostalgia, maybe, or regret.

She didn’t push, sensing that there were things he wasn’t ready to share. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, a small smile playing on her lips. “Well, I think it’s charming.”

“Charming?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “You don’t see that kind of old-school vibe much these days. It’s refreshing.”

He didn’t respond right away, but the way his gaze softened told her he appreciated the sentiment.

Eventually, the bartender called last call, and the reality of the night coming to an end settled over them.

“Guess it’s time to head out,” she said, standing and grabbing her jacket.

Bucky stood as well, his movements slow and deliberate. “You walking home?”

“Unless you’re offering to walk me,” she said, her tone teasing but hopeful.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Come on, Doll. Let’s get you home.”

Bucky shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he walked beside her, the cool night air brushing against his skin. The streets were quiet, the hum of distant traffic the only sound besides their footsteps on the pavement. Y/N glanced up at him occasionally, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"You didn’t have to walk me home, you know," she said, breaking the silence.

He shrugged, keeping his eyes ahead. "Didn’t feel right letting you walk alone. City can get rough at night."

She smirked, tilting her head toward him. "Are you saying you’re my knight in shining armor, James?"

"Not exactly," he said with a faint chuckle, "but I’ll take the compliment."

The banter came easy now, the tension from earlier melting away with every step. When they reached her apartment building, she paused at the stoop, turning to face him.

"This is me," she said, gesturing to the old brick building behind her.

He nodded, rocking back on his heels. "Looks like a nice place."

"It’s got charm," she said with a grin. "Wanna come in for a drink? Least I can do for my, uh, unofficial bodyguard."

Bucky hesitated, the offer catching him off guard. But there was no hesitation in her gaze, only warmth and genuine curiosity.

"Sure," he said finally.

Her apartment was small but cozy, with mismatched furniture and walls lined with shelves full of books and records. A soft lamp in the corner bathed the room in a warm golden glow, and the faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air.

"Make yourself at home," she said, tossing her keys onto a side table and slipping off her jacket. She disappeared into the kitchen, calling out, "What’s your poison? I’ve got beer, wine, whiskey...water, if you’re feeling particularly adventurous."

Bucky chuckled, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Whiskey’s good."

A moment later, she returned with two glasses, handing one to him before plopping down on the couch beside him. She tucked her legs under her, her knee brushing against his as she turned to face him.

"Cheers," she said, raising her glass.

He clinked his glass against hers, the sound soft and almost intimate in the quiet room.

They sipped in silence for a moment before she leaned back against the cushions, studying him.

"So, James," she began, a playful lilt in her voice. "What’s your story? And don’t give me that ‘it’s complicated’ nonsense again."

He smirked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "It really is complicated."

"Try me," she said, her gaze steady and unflinching.

He exhaled, his fingers tapping against the glass. He wasn’t sure why he felt the urge to share, but something about her made him feel...safe.

"I’ve been through some things," he said carefully. "Seen and done things I’m not proud of. Spent a long time trying to figure out who I am, where I fit in the world."

Her expression softened, but she didn’t interrupt. She just waited, giving him the space to continue.

"It’s like...coming back to a world that’s moved on without you," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "And you’re not sure if you even belong in it anymore."

She nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving his. "That sounds...lonely."

"It is," he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

She reached out, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "You’re not alone now," she said gently. "You’ve got people who care about you, right? Friends? Family?"

He hesitated, the weight of her question settling over him. "Some," he said eventually. "But it’s not always easy to let them in."

"Why not?" she asked, her tone curious rather than judgmental.

He looked down at his glass, his thumb tracing the rim. "Because once people see the real you—the parts you try to hide—they might not stick around."

She frowned, her grip on his arm tightening slightly. "That’s bullshit, James. The people who matter won’t run. And anyone who does? They’re not worth your time."

Her words were blunt, but they carried a conviction that he couldn’t ignore.

"You really believe that?" he asked, looking up at her.

"I do," she said firmly. "Life’s too short to waste on people who don’t see your worth."

He studied her for a long moment, the warmth in her eyes stirring something deep inside him.

"Thanks," he said softly.

She smiled, her thumb brushing against his arm before she pulled her hand away. "Anytime."

They fell into an easy conversation after that, the topics shifting from heavy to light. She told him about her favorite records and her dream of opening her own little shop one day. He shared bits and pieces about his love for old books and the time he spent tinkering with motorcycles.

The hours slipped by, the world outside fading away as they sat there, two strangers slowly becoming something more.

Eventually, her head tipped back against the couch, her eyes growing heavy. She stifled a yawn, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Guess I kept you longer than I planned," she said with a sheepish smile.

"I don’t mind," he said, his voice low and steady.

She looked at him for a moment, her smile softening. "Well, if you ever feel like talking again, you know where to find me."

Bucky nodded, his lips curving into a small smile. "I’ll keep that in mind, Kitten."

She laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Good. Now, let me grab you a blanket for the couch. It’s too late for you to be wandering the streets."

Y/N stood up and stretched, the hem of her shirt rising slightly as she reached her arms overhead. Bucky’s eyes flicked to the motion before he quickly looked away, focusing instead on his half-empty glass of whiskey.

"You don’t have to do that," he said, standing and setting his glass down on the coffee table. "I can head out—it’s no problem."

She turned, hands on her hips, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "What kind of host would I be if I let you walk home at this hour? Besides, You weren’t kidding about the city being rough at night. And I doubt you want to deal with random drunks yelling at you from across the street."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You think I can’t handle myself?"

"Oh, I’m sure you can," she said with a chuckle, walking past him to grab a blanket from a basket near the armchair. "But why bother when you can have a perfectly good couch right here?"

Bucky hesitated, the warmth of her offer sinking in. It had been a long time since someone had cared about his well-being like this.

"Alright," he said finally, his voice soft. "If you’re sure."

"I’m sure," she said, tossing the blanket onto the couch. "Pillow’s over there if you need it."

As she stepped closer, her expression softened, the teasing replaced by something quieter, more sincere. "You’ve had enough lonely nights, haven’t you?"

Her words hit him like a gentle blow, not painful but heavy with understanding. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Well, not tonight," she said firmly, her hand brushing his arm as she stepped back. "Now, do you want another drink, or are you good?"

"I’m good," he said, his voice a little rough.

"Alright, then." She gave him one last smile before heading toward her bedroom. "Goodnight, Bucky." -

"Y/N."

It wasn’t loud—barely above a murmur—but there was a weight to it that made her pause. She glanced back over her shoulder, finding him still standing near the couch, one hand brushing through his hair like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

"Yeah?" she prompted, tilting her head slightly, her expression curious.

His lips parted, then closed, like the words were stuck somewhere deep. For a second, she thought he might brush it off entirely. But then his blue eyes found hers, and there was something unguarded in his gaze, something raw.

"I..." he started, his voice quiet. "I don’t want to be alone tonight."

Her chest tightened at the vulnerability laced in his tone. It wasn’t desperation—Bucky Barnes didn’t seem like the kind of man who begged for anything. It was more like an admission, one that cost him something to say out loud.

"Okay," she said simply, her voice soft but steady.

She turned fully toward him, walking back into the living room. Her bare feet padded lightly on the floor as she stopped just a few feet from him, close enough to see the flicker of relief in his expression.

"I’ll stay for a while," she added after a beat. "Come sit with me?"

For a moment, he just looked at her, like he was trying to figure out if she really meant it. Then, with a small nod, he moved toward the couch.

She settled into the cushions, patting the spot beside her. He hesitated only briefly before sitting down, the proximity bringing a faint warmth to the air between them.

"Do you do this for all the random guys you meet in bars?" he asked, the faintest hint of a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

"Only the ones who don’t bolt when I ask for their names," she shot back, her tone light but her eyes steady on him.

A low chuckle escaped him, and she felt the tension in the room ease slightly.

"Guess I made the cut, then," he said, leaning back slightly, his metal arm resting along the back of the couch.

"Guess so," she replied, leaning back as well, her legs tucked under her.

For a moment, they sat in silence. It wasn’t awkward, though. If anything, it felt... comfortable. Like they didn’t need to fill the space with words.

"Thanks," he said suddenly, his voice soft.

"For what?" she asked, glancing at him.

"For... this," he said, gesturing vaguely to the room. "For not asking too many questions. For not running the other way when you saw—" He stopped himself, his jaw tightening for just a second.

"Hey," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You don’t owe me an explanation. Whatever it is, whoever you are—it doesn’t scare me, okay?"

His eyes flicked to hers, and for a moment, she thought he might say something else. But then he just nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly in a quiet smile.

She reached out without thinking, her fingers brushing lightly against his metal hand where it rested on the back of the couch.

"It’s not the first time I’ve met someone carrying a heavy load," she said softly. "And it probably won’t be the last. But you don’t have to carry it alone tonight."

Bucky’s breath hitched slightly at her words. He looked down at her hand, the way it lingered against his, warm and steady.

"Why are you so nice to me?" he asked, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving.

"Maybe I just have a soft spot for mysterious guys with good taste in whiskey," she teased lightly, though her tone held an undercurrent of sincerity.

His lips twitched into a real smile this time, one that reached his eyes. "Lucky me, then."

They sat there for a while longer, the only sound the steady tick of the antique clock on the mantle.

She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder, and Bucky wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. The warmth of her body against his was a stark contrast to the cold metal of his prosthetic, a reminder of the vast differences between them. Yet, in that moment, all he could feel was the connection that had grown stronger with each shared secret, each stolen glance.

The couch was not built for two, but somehow, they made it work. Her legs curled underneath her, and she fit perfectly into the space beside him. He could feel her breathing, slow and steady, as she dozed off, the events of the evening catching up to her.

Bucky watched her, his heart beating a rhythm that was both familiar and new at the same time.

He knew he should be on guard, his instincts honed for danger, but all he wanted was to hold her, to keep her safe, to let the peace of this moment seep into the cracks of his damaged soul.

With a gentle sigh, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering for a brief second.

The room grew quiet, the air thick with the unspoken tension that had been building between them all evening. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, and she searched his gaze for any hint of what was to come. The moonlight spilled through the window, casting a silver glow across her features, making her look ethereal, like a creature not of this world.

Bucky’s thumb traced the line of her jaw, the pad of his finger brushing over her cheekbone before his hand found its way into the softness of her hair.

He felt the warmth of her breath against his neck as she exhaled a contented sigh.

Slowly, as if afraid she might break, he leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving hers. The space between them narrowed, the anticipation building like the crescendo of a symphony. Their lips met, tentative at first, as if testing the waters of a newfound intimacy. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as the walls they’d built around themselves crumbled to dust. It was a kiss filled with the promise of something more, a silent declaration of the feelings they’d both been too afraid to voice.

Her arms slid around his neck, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair as she pulled him closer. His hand found the small of her back, the touch sending shivers down her spine. The kiss grew hotter, more insistent, as the passion between them ignited like a wildfire. They broke apart for a moment, both of them breathing heavily, their eyes searching the other’s for any sign of doubt or regret. Finding none, Bucky leaned back in, capturing her mouth once more in a kiss that was both fierce and tender.

Their bodies aligned, and she could feel the steady thump of his heart against her chest.

——-smut——-smut———smut——-smut——-smut——-smut——-

It was a comforting rhythm, a reminder that he was real, that this moment was not just a figment of her imagination. His hands moved to the zipper of her jacket, pulling it down with a whisper of sound. She shrugged it off, her eyes never leaving his as she revealed the soft fabric of her blouse beneath. The air grew charged as he placed his hand on her bare skin, the warmth of his touch sending waves of desire through her.

Their kisses grew more frantic as they moved closer, the fabric of their clothes seeming to melt away as their hands explored each other. The couch creaked under their weight as they shifted, the springs protesting against the passion that had taken them over. They were a tangle of limbs and emotions, a dance of need and want that neither could resist.

Bucky’s hand found the zipper of her skirt, his movements deliberate and sure. She lifted her hips, allowing him to slide it down her legs. The cool air kissed her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He pulled her closer, his hand moving to the hem of her shirt, lifting it to expose her stomach. His thumb traced the delicate line of her belly button, sending a thrill through her.

He paused, his hand hovering just above the fabric, waiting for her permission. She nodded, her breath hitching in her throat. He pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her in just her bra. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but she trusted him, knew that he would never hurt her. He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin as he placed a gentle kiss just above the lace.

Their hearts pounded in sync as they continued to explore, each touch a new discovery, each kiss a silent confession of their feelings.

The night was theirs, a stolen moment in time where they could be free of their pasts and the weight of their futures. For now, there was only the here and now, and the unspoken promise of what was to come.

The couch was not a bed, but it was where they found themselves, tangled in the fabric of their desires. He took his time, his hands worshiping her body as if it were the first time he’d ever felt skin so soft, so alive. She responded with equal fervor, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer.

Their movements grew more urgent, the tension coiling tight within them, demanding release. With a groan, Bucky lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms tight around his neck. He carried her down the hallway, her heart racing as she felt the cold floorboards under her bare feet. The room was bathed in the soft glow of a single candle, casting flickering shadows across the walls. He laid her down gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.

Their kisses grew deeper as Bucky unhooked her bra, his gaze dropping to the swell of her breasts.

He kissed the delicate skin, tracing the lines of her collarbone with his tongue before taking a nipple into his mouth. She arched her back, a gasp escaping her as he teased her with his teeth. His hands roamed her body, memorizing every curve, every inch of her softness. The sensation was overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that resonated through her very core.

Her own hands were not idle, her fingertips exploring the planes of his chest, the ripples of his abs, and the firm muscle beneath. She felt the metal of his prosthetic against her skin and paused for a moment, her eyes searching his for explanation, soon after she realized she didn’t care right now. He took her hand, kissing her palm, before placing it back, his gaze never leaving hers. He was hers, all of him, the good and the broken.

With trembling fingers, she unbuckled his belt, the clank of the metal echoing through the room. He helped her, his eyes filled with a fierce longing that matched her own. They shed their remaining clothes, the fabric pooling around them on the floor. His skin was hot against hers, the scars a map of battles fought and lives saved. She kissed each one, her lips a silent promise to cherish every part of him.

Their bodies aligned once more, and she could feel his arousal, hard and insistent, against her thigh. He hovered above her, his breathing ragged, his eyes searching hers for any hint of hesitation. She offered none, her eyes filled with a fierce love that was as unyielding as he was. With a whispered, “Darling,” he circled his thumb over her clit.

Her hips bucked at the contact, her body begging for more. He complied, his touch growing firmer, more insistent. She was so wet, so ready, and he reveled in the sweet sounds of pleasure she made, the way her breath hitched and her body quivered under his touch. He slid two fingers inside her, the warmth of her welcoming him home. She was tight, a perfect fit for him, and he knew he was lost, irrevocably, to the feel of her, the taste of her, the way she made him feel alive again.

Her hands roamed his body, tracing the scars that crisscrossed his chest and abdomen. They were a testament to his past, but she didn’t see them as marks of weakness; she saw them as badges of honor, proof of his strength and resilience. Her fingertips danced over the smooth metal of his arm, and she marveled at the way it felt under her touch. He was a man of contrasts, of steel and velvet, and she wanted all of him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Kitten,” he murmured against her skin, his breath hot and ragged. “I want to taste every inch of you, make you scream my name until you lose your voice.”

Her cheeks flushed at his dirty talk, but it only served to stoke the fire burning within her. He knew exactly what to say to make her blush, to make her feel wanted. His words painted a picture of carnality that had her heart racing and her body aching for more. She felt his hardness pressing against her thigh, and she knew she wanted the same.

“Bucky, please,” she whimpered, her voice thick with need.

With a smirk that was both predatory and tender, he whispered, “You’re dripping for me, doll. Does the thought of my cock filling you up turn you on?” His words were like a dark promise, a seductive taunt that had her biting her bottom lip. She nodded, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she felt a gush between her legs.

“Good girl,” he praised, his thumb flicking over her clit in response to her desperate plea. His cock was heavy and thick, a testament to his desire for her. He leaned down, his mouth capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss that made her toes curl. He could feel her hips rocking against his hand, her body begging for release.

As their kisses grew more fevered, Bucky slid his fingers from her pussy, bringing them to his mouth. He sucked them clean, tasting her sweetness, watching the way her eyes widened at the erotic act. A soft moan escaped her lips, and he knew she was on the edge. He lowered his head, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, and down to her chest. He took one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, while his hand continued to work her clit. The sight of her, writhing beneath him, was almost too much to bear.

With a groan, he positioned himself between her legs, his cock poised at her entrance. He paused, his gaze locking onto hers. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice gruff with need. She nodded, her eyes dark with desire.

Slowly, he pushed into her, inch by inch, watching her face for any sign of pain. She was tight, a taut heat, like a fist gripping him, but she was slick and welcoming, her body yielding to his. He felt her walls stretch around him, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. He’d been with other women before, but none had ever felt like this, like he was coming home after a long and brutal war.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, darling,” he muttered, his jaw clenched with the effort to go slow. Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath coming in short gasps as she felt herself stretch to accommodate him. She nodded, her nails digging into his back. “Good, good girl, let me in,” he encouraged, his voice a low growl of pleasure.

The moment he was fully seated within her, he stilled, savoring the feeling of being connected to her in this most intimate way. He knew he could lose himself in her, drown in the warmth of her body, the sweetness of her kisses, and he never wanted it to end. He watched her face, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth parted in a silent plea for more. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, his teeth scraping lightly against her skin as he began to move.

Her legs tightened around him, pulling him deeper, her hips rising to meet every thrust. The bed protested, the headboard knocking against the wall in a steady rhythm that matched the beat of their hearts. Bucky’s hand moved from her hair to her throat, his thumb tracing the pulse that hammered there. He could feel her tension building, her body coiling tight as a spring.

“Look at me, Kitten,” he ordered, his voice a rough whisper. Her eyes snapped open, locking onto his. He could see the passion, the love, the trust in their depths, and it was more beautiful than any starlit sky he’d ever seen. The intensity of their connection was almost too much to bear as he began to move in earnest, his strokes deep and powerful. “Such a good girl for me, so good..”

Her eyes never left his as she whispered “Daddy…”, her voice a soft prayer that seemed to echo through the room. Her legs tightened around him, urging him closer, deeper, as if she could somehow pull him into her very soul. The feeling of her surrounding him was more intoxicating than any serum, more potent than any battle high.

He groaned at the sound of that word on her lips, his hips driving into her with renewed vigor. It was a name he’d never been called, but it fit him like a glove, a role he’d never known he’d crave. She was his kitten, his doll, his darling, and he was her protector, her daddy.

Their rhythm grew more erratic, their kisses messy and desperate as they chased their release. He could feel her pussy clenching around him, her body tightening like a vice. He knew she was close, could hear the whimpers that fell from her lips as he picked up his pace. His own orgasm was building, a pressure that grew with every thrust.

“Come for me, doll,” he whispered, his voice a mix of grit and desire.

“I want to feel you come around my cock. Let me feel it.”

Her eyes widened, and she threw her head back, her back arching as the orgasm crashed over her like a wave. She screamed out his name, her body shaking with the force of it. He watched her, his own pleasure building, his strokes becoming more erratic as he felt her walls convulsing around him.

The sight of her, writhing in ecstasy, was almost too much to handle.

Bucky’s grip tightened on her hips, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. He could feel his own orgasm approaching, the pressure in his balls becoming unbearable. He kissed her again, his tongue delving deep as he felt her muscles tighten around him. His hand moved from her throat to her cheek, holding her face as if he was afraid she’d slip away.

With a final, desperate groan, he pulled out, the head of his cock glistening with her release.

He hovered over her, his eyes never leaving hers as he painted her pussy with streams of cum.

The sight of him, lost in his own release, was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen. She felt a tingle race through her, a sense of belonging and satisfaction that she hadn’t known was possible.

They lay there for a moment, their breaths mingling, their bodies slick with sweat. He leaned down, kissing her softly, the taste of herself on his lips. It was an intimate moment, one that she knew she’d never forget. He rolled off her, pulling her close, their limbs still entwined. The bed was a mess of rumpled sheets and discarded clothes, a testament to the passion they’d just shared.

Her cheeks burned with the memory of her slip, the word “Daddy” still hanging in the air between them. She felt vulnerable, exposed, but also a thrill that she’d never experienced before. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Daddy, huh? That was unexpected, Kitten,” he said, his voice filled with affectionate amusement.

He kissed the tip of her nose, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I like it,” he admitted, his thumb caressing her cheek. “You make me feel like I can be more than just the Winter Soldier. Like maybe, just maybe, I can be something to someone outside of battle too.”

Her heart swelled at his words, the warmth of his affection wrapping around her like a blanket. She didn’t know how to respond, so instead, she curled closer to him, her head nestling into the crook of his neck. His arms tightened around her, his chest rising and falling with deep, contented breaths.

“I’m sorry, James,” she whispered after a moment, her voice small and uncertain. She hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t even realized it until the words had left her lips. The term had just slipped out, a product of the intense intimacy of the moment, a word that had once brought her comfort in a different context.

He studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a soft smile that made her heart flutter, he said, “Don’t be sorry, doll. It’s just us here. No judgment. If it’s what you need, I’ll be your daddy.” He said lightheartedly, His thumb traced lazy circles on her cheek, the tender gesture at odds with the possessive growl in his voice.

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was a comfort she hadn’t realized she craved, and the way he said it, so raw and unfiltered, made her feel cherished. She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“Thanks.” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

——————————————————————————————————

Hey, guys. Hope you liked this, needed to write some Civil war Bucky!!! 😩

Requests Open!

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #marvel #bucky smut #Civil war bucky

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tomssexdoll · 3 days ago

Text

Keep looking honey

PAIRINGS: Bill 2010 x Female reader

CONTENT: SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: When Y/N is in line for the club, she finds herself fixated on a man in his black sports car. When Bill catches her he calls her out, leaving her flustered. As the night progressed she found herself thinking about him more and more, checking the entry to see if he'd come inside, just as she lost hope she bumped into someone very familiar.

A/N: if you want to be tagged or i accidently missed your tag comment on my pinned masterlist <3 creds for divider: @kodaswrld

WARNINGS: dom!bill, sub!reader, p in v (missionary), eating out, teasing, mentions of alcohol

I was outside of a nightclub, waiting to be let in. I was smoking a cigarette and chatting to my friend, the people around us drunk and impatient. I scanned the area around me, when someone caught my eye.

A man in a black sports car, his arm resting on the window sill of the car. He had a black beanie, a few facial piercings, a black muscle tank on and a few necklaces on his neck, dangling down to his chest. He arrived early, waiting for his friends to show up, waiting in his car.

His eyes met mine, he smirked slightly, revealing a glint of his tongue piercing as he took a long drag from his cigarette. "Guck ruhig, süße (keep looking honey)," he called out, his German accent evident as he spoke. I immediately blushed, knowing it was directed towards me. I looked away, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Hey, you ok?" my friend chuckled, her eyes wandering to wherever I was looking. "Ohhh you've been looking at that guy huh, you got a little thing for him?" she chuckled, teasing me. I rolled my eyes and smirked, "oh shut up, he's just attractive that's all," she chuckled and walked into the club when it was finally our turn to get in.

As we walked in we were immediately greeted with loud, booming music and bright lights, drunk people flailing around and dancing. I walked over to the bar, ordering a simple dirty martini and finding my friend again, I stood by the dancefloor and bobbed my head to the music, talking casually to her.

As the night went on, I found myself frequently glancing back at the entrance, curious about the man in the black sports car. I sighed and figured he probably went to another club with his friends, doubting I'd ever see him again.

That was until I turned around, walking around to find the bar, my head a little hazy from the amount of drinks I'd had. I accidently bumped into someone, causing them to spill their drink all over my top. "scheiße.." the man I bumped into cursed under his breath, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Suddenly, the same piercing gaze from the parking lot locked onto me, it was him. The man from the car. My eyes widened and I just stared at him. He chuckled and looked down at my stained top, his gaze lingering a little too long on my chest.

"Sorry about that schatz.." a smirk played on his lips, stepping closer to me, placing his large hand on my shoulder. His voice was low, barely audible over the pounding music. "Let me buy you a new drink gorgeous," he said, holding out his hand for me to take. I took his hand and followed him to the bar, turning around and looking at my friend as she was silently cheering for me. I smiled and turned back, sitting on the barstool with him.

"Sooo..I found you again my little admirer," he spoke up, flagging the waiter. I blushed and covered my face in embarrassment, "oh shut up! That was so embarrassing.." I whined. He chuckled and ordered me a vodka redbull, a whiskey for him. He turned to face me, his knees brushing against mine under the bar, his leg casually resting against mine, "I'm Bill.." he extended a hand.

I giggled and shook his hand, "I'm y/n," his gaze intensified as he held my hand a moment longer than necessary, his thumb lightly grazing my knuckles. He leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble in my ear, "nice to meet you, y/n. I can't lie, I've been watching you all night," my eyes widened slightly, "really..? That's funny because I've been looking for you all night," I chuckled nervously, "I figured."

After a few more drinks my head started to become hazy. I smirked and looked over at him as he stood up, slightly wobbling and holding his hand out, "let's dance schatzi, cmon," he nodded his head over to the dancefloor.

As I took his hand he pulled me up from the stool, his hand wrapping around my waist as he lead me onto the crowded dancefloor, drunk, horny bodies dancing together. The music was loud and fast paced but he moved with me with effortless grace, his hands possessive on my hips.

I leaned my head back and rested it on his shoulder, bringing my hands up and behind me to wrap them around his neck. Bill's hands slid down to grip my thighs as I danced, his touch bold and unapologetic. He nuzzles into my neck, his skin against mine as he inhaled my scent. His lips brushed my ear as he spoke, "you smell divine.." I smirked and kept dancing, softly grinding on him.

His breath hitched, his grip tightening on my thighs. He grinded back against me, his boner evident through his pants. He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear, "let's get out of here, y/n.." his voice was commanding, leaving no room for argument.

I nodded and practically ran with him outside, I pulled out my phone and texted my friend a quick, "he's taking me home, wish me luck," I looked back and spotted her, she was already all over a guy, too busy to hear her phone going off.

I smirked and got into his car, his movements rushed and jerky as he got into the drivers seat. He started the engine, the car roaring to life as he pulled out of his parking spot, driving to his house on the outskirts of the city. His chest heaved as he raced down the highway, his foot pushing harder on the gas pedal.

The night air was cool against my flushed skin, his eyes focused on the road, his gaze occasionally flicking to me. When we finally arrived he quickly parked in the long driveway.

I unbuckled my seat belt and before I could even react Bill was by my side in an instant, in one swift motion, he lifted me out of the car, pulling me flush against his toned chest. His eyes gleamed with mischief and barely restrained hunger as he carried me bridal style toward the houses imposing front door.

He shouldered the door open, carrying me inside and kicking the door shut behind him. He carried me straight to his bedroom, his boots clomping heavily on the hardwood floors as he hurried to his room, not wanting to waste another second.

He threw me down on his king sized bed, the plush comforter enveloping me. Standing tall over me, he slowly shed his shirt, revealing his sweaty, toned chest. He then crawled onto the bed, inching closer to me, his hands moving to each side of my head, caging me in. His intense gaze roving my face, zeroing in on my parted lips.

Bills face inches closer, his warm breath mingling with mine. Then, slowly, oh so slowly, he pressed his mouth to mine in a searing, possessive kiss. His lips moved against mine with confident precision, his tongue slipping inside to dance with mine.

"Bill.." I whined, wrapping my arms around his neck and deepening the kiss. He growled softly against my lips, his body pressing urgently against mine. His hands slid under my shirt, his calloused fingers leaving tingling trails on my skin as they map the contours of my torso.

He broke the kiss momentarily to tug my shirt up and off, tossing it aside carelessly. His hands reached for my bra, but instead of unhooking it he simply ripped it apart, leaving me stunned, he was too impatient to be slow and gentle. The fabric teared loudly as he discarded the ruined garment to the side. His gaze raked over my exposed breasts, his breath coming faster as he took in the sight, "fuck.." he mumbled, diving his head down and planting rough kisses onto my chest.

His lips blazed a trail of fervent kiss downward, his tongue swirling around one hardened nipple, earning a small moan from me. Upon hearing my reaction he smirked, drawing it between his teeth, biting down gently. His hands palmed the swell of my breasts almost reverently, kneading the soft flesh.

His lips and hands slowly made their way down my body, then finding my jean covered pussy. His teasing lips hover mere inches from my clothed mound as he deftly unbuttoned my jeans. With a devious smirk, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and yanked both jeans and panties down my legs.

"Stop teasing!" I whined, arching my back as if to seek any sort of pleasure. He chuckled, the sound low and menacing as he continued to tease. He decided to put me out of my misery, sliding closer in between my thighs and wrapping each arm around one of my thighs, dragging me closer to him.

"I'll give you what you want, but first, I want to hear you beg.." he murmured, his piercing eyes looking up at me. I bit my lip, a small whine exiting my mouth, "please...please Bill...eat my pussy...stop fucking teasing me!" I was breathless, desperate, flushed, my body radiating with non stop arousal.

At my desperate plea, Bill's eyes darkened with lust. Without warning, he buried his face between my thighs, his tongue delving deep into my soaked folds. He licked and sucked at my most sensitive areas, earning loud and desperate moans from me. His nose bumped against my clit with each pass. "Mmh...so good.." he grumbled, eating me out like a starved man.

His tongue worked overtime, his fingers spreading my lips wide as he devoured my pussy. He ate me out relentlessly, his mouth making obscene sounds as he slurped and gulped down my juices. His nose was buried in my folds, his breath hot against my clit as he sucks it into his mouth.

The sensation of his tongue piercing against my sensitive clit sent me spiralling into ecstasy. My hands grabbed at his hair, trying to hold him in place as he continued his ruthless assault on my pussy. His fingers dug into my thighs, holding me open for his devouring mouth. "God..this pussy is so fucking good, so sweet..." he grunted.

"Keep going, fuck!" I moaned loudly, feeling his arms wrap around my thighs tighter, pinning them down as he redoubled his efforts. His mouth and tongue moved furiously against my wet hear, I could literally see stars from how good it was, my eyes rolling into the back of my head, letting out strings of loud, pleasured moans.

The sounds of my moans and the wet, sloppy noises of him eating my core filled the room, driving us both closer to the edge. His hardened cock ached in his pants, begging to be freed.

"Yess! 'M close, keep going!" I yelped, his fingers joined his mouth, slipping inside me as his tongue concentrated on my swollen nub. He pistoned his digits in and out of me, curling them upward to rub against that spot deep inside.

His eyes lifted to watch my face as I fell apart for him, sweat lined my forehead and my eyebrows had scrunched up in a pleading expression and my eyes were rolled back, my mouth slightly agape. He relished in the pleasure he was causing me, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He curled his fingers harder against my sweet spot and sucked my clit into his mouth with increased pressure, my orgasm rapidly approaching.

My toes curled and dug into the sheets, my hands fisted the sheets and I let out a scream, my orgasm crashing down. As I convulsed and screamed through my release, Bill lifted his glistening face, watching hungrily as waves of pleasure wracked my body. "Good girl..such a good girl.." he purred approvingly, His hands quickly unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers.

He climbed back up my body and planted soft kisses on my face and neck, "time for the main course baby.." he chuckled, capturing my lips in a rough kiss. Bill loomed over me, his hard cock pressed urgently against my thigh, "are you ready baby...not too sensitive?" he asked softly, trying to make sure I wasn't too out of it.

I nodded softly, I was already over the affects of my prolonged orgasm. At my confirmation a devilish (see what i did there ehfhhewehhheeh) spread across Bill's face, giving him the green light. He positioned himself between my legs, the thick head of his cock prodding urgently at my entrance.

Bill's jaw clenched as he slowly inched forward, his thick shaft stretching me wide. He pushed deep, giving me time to adjust to his size. His breath hisses out through gritted teeth as he feels my tightness engulfing him. "Fuckkk.." he groaned, starting to move.

He set a slow pace at first before gradually quickening his pace, he groaned deeply with each thrust, his hips rolling, driving into me with purposeful strokes. One hand gripped my hip, holding me in place as he pounded into me. The other reached up to palm my breast, rolling and tugging at my nipple.

The sensation of him playing with my nipples added another wave of pleasure, my back arching and soft moans escaping my lips. Toms movements became more urgent, his thrusts harder and faster as he chased his own release, "look at me baby..look at me while I fucking destroy this slutty cunt," he demanded, sliding his hand up and gripping my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

My vision was blurred slightly but I could still see the undeniable possession and lust in his eyes. The bed creaked beneath us, keeping time with his passionate movements. He leaned down to capture my mouth in a heated kiss, swallowing my whiny moans as he drove into me over and over.

I whimpered against his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck for more security. He broke the kiss to look down at me, his eyes blazing with desire. He pulled out almost completely before slamming back in, making me yelp, "ahh! Bill!" I whined, the force of his thrust sent me scrambling up the bed, my back hitting the headboard.

He chuckled, "sorry baby.." he dragged me back and captured my lips in another heated kiss, pounding into me once more. "Fuck..you're so tight schatzi.." he grumbled. I let out a particularly loud moan when his tip directly hit my g spot, the sound of my moan spurred Bill on, his movements becoming even more brutal.

He grabbed both my thighs and pulled me closer, pounding into me with reckless abandon, the headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust. He detached a hand from my thigh and reached in between my legs, rubbing at my clit in time with his pistoning hips.

His cock pounding into me, grouped with him furiously rubbing my clit drove me into oblivion, I moaned loudly and came hard. A little stream of clear liquid spurted out of my pussy, really showing the intensity of my pleasure. His eyes widened as he saw this, the sight of me squirting was Bills breaking point.

With a few more powerful thrusts, he buried himself inside me and erupted, his thick cock pumping me full of his hot cum. He collapsed on top of me, our chests heaving in unison as we tried to calm down from such an intense orgasm. After a few minutes he lifted his head and placed a gentle peck on my lips, "you did so well baby..so proud.." he mumbled.

He rolled over and propped himself up on one elbow, his face flushed and sweat beaded. He leaned down to give me another soft kiss, this one lasting. A stark contrast to the passionate, borderline brutal love making we just shared. "Let's go for a shower and then we'll head to bed..yeah..?" he said, slightly panting.

I nodded softly and shakily slid off the bed, Bills arms wrapping around my waist to guide me.