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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

Text

Shiver

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: The snow may not be the only thing keeping you trapped.

Character: silverfox Bucky Barnes

Day Five of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - extreme weather leads to forced proximity

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"Shit," Bucky plants his feet in the snow as you shiver against his back.

The wind billows around you, his body breaking it but not shielding you completely. You shiver under the wool blanket and open hospital gown. Your quick escape didn't allow much time for a weather report. His treads crunch and sink deeper into the snow as the back tire kicks up powder and the front clogs with the thick sheet below.

He growls and revs again, more in frustration than genuine effort. Your lip quivers and your teeth chatter. You look up as large cumulus flakes drift down, blotting out swathes of the sky.

"Gonna have to ditch it," he grumbles and kicks down the stand. He hardly needs to as the wheels are so deep, the bike might stay up on its own. He kills the engine and the silence blows around you, whistling behind your ears. "God damn..."

You rescind your arms, shaking as the cold seeps across your front, his warm fading quickly. You slide off the bike, your open rubber clog sinking into the snow, your exposed leg scalded by the bite of the cold. He climbs off and looks at you, a grimace lined in his forehead and cheeks. He shakes his head as he strips the saddle bags off the bike and puts them over his shoulder.

The grey streaks in his hair are illuminated by the white landscape, and the patches in his beard look even thicker. The scar through his brow pales with his exasperation. He beckons to you as you continue to quake. He doesn't wait for you to obey. He steps closer and hooks his arm around you, his metal one coming up to scoop you off of the ground. As he lifts you, snow clumps off your shoes and back to the heaps.

"Where--"

"Where are we? Where do we go? Two questions I don't got the answers too." He growls.

You rub your hands together and blow into them. He looks down at you, his eyes glinting with steel, his cheek twitching. He's forged in iron. He gives one-worded orders and grunts, so now that he's talking, you're concerned. Even more than you were before he showed up.

"Sorry," you utter.

He grunts. Right. He hikes you up so you fall against his chest. You welcome his warmth. He takes high steps away from the motorcycle. You watch it over his shoulder. You suppose it's replaceable.

He continues on, slow, but steady. The snow falls at a similar pace. You can't help but nestle into him. You've heard of this man before. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. His nickname is more apt in that moment, though he doesn't welcome the irony.

As he carries you, you feel his heart beat, and your own. He is a man underneath all the stories. An avenger. A hero. Your hero. Or just another captor.

You turn to see ahead of him. He walks into the ivory void, the snow slanting and swirling all around. You squint as it catches in your lashes and you hug the blanket tighter. It's damp with snow and offers little against the onslaught.

Hopelessness builds with the piles of snow all around. Still, he isn't daunted. Even as the sky darkens, even as you feel him tense with the burden of your weight. He just carries on. You know what that's like. To just keep going because there's no other option.

A haven appears at last, though you don't immediately see it. You think he's gone mad when he kicks the wall of snow. Then it collapses inward into clumps. The mouth of a cave opens from behind the dusty shower.

He steps through, out of the whining gales. You bend your fingers and wiggle your toes as they ache and throb. He takes you deep enough that the cold is not so virulent.

He puts you down and wades through the darkness. You huddle in a ball as you listen to him. You can't tell he's right next to you until he grabs your leg then trails down to your foot. He takes it out of the clog and wraps it in fabric. You're not sure what exactly the cloth is but it's better than nothing.

He does the same to your other foot before he moves away. Again, you hear him. His shadow blurs in and out of your sight until he turns on a flashlight. He props it in a nook in the wall so it casts across the space. You hug yourself and watch him.

He surveys the interior of the cave as he grips his hips. He doesn't look impressed. He drops his bags on the ground and unbuckled the blanket roll from between them. He unfolds it with a pensive gaze. His eyes flick over it to you. He nears and throws it at you. You catch it thankfully, letting he wet one fall off your shoulders.

He clicks free the clasp on his leather harness, undoing each strap until its slack. He slips it free then unzips his high-collared jacket. He removes that too and puts it with the bags. You stare at him in confusion.

"Your clothes are wet," he pauses and glances over, "what little you got. Take em off. We gotta stay warm."

"Huh?" You gurgle.

"Or you can freeze. I got the serum to keep me warm," he shrugs as he peels off his undershirt.

You don't hesitate again. You reach to the laces of the hospital gown just behind your neck. You've been poked, prodded, observed. You lost your modesty a long time ago. He doesn’t have any either.

As you drag the fabric away from your body, he approaches. Naked, hairy, shameless. He takes the blanket and lowers himself next to you. He wraps you in his arms, bring the thick layer around both of you as he guides you down to cave floor.

You cannot deny the heat of his body. You’re almost desperate for it. You quake against him as you snake your arms around him in turn and press your cheek to the top of his chest. Your legs tangle together as you entwine beneath the blanket, meshing together to keep the warmth within.

His breath is calm where yours is shuddery. You cling to him and close your eyes. The lull takes over. There is only the distant wind, the soft fall of snow, and the beating of his heart. Or is it yours?

You ease down into a senseless trance. You are not so much waiting for it to end as hanging on every second. You’re alive. You can stay alive. For the first time in maybe ever, you care about that. You’re not sure why. It might be nothing more than being away from that horrible place he took you from.

His lips brush your hair and send a new kind of shiver through you. The gesture is odd as he inhales, breathing in your smell. His hand crawls up your back and down again. Your skin speckles with bumps. His movement is cautious but deliberate, as if he’s unsure if your awake or not.

A low rumble rolls in his chest and escapes his throat. He splays his fingers wide and covers one side of your ass. He presses his palm to your firmly and curls his fingers. You whimper. What is he doing?

Your bat your lashes as you open your eyes. His other hand comes up to still your head, trapping it against his chest. His hand hooks under the curve of your rear. He shoves between your thighs, keeping his knee between yours as he feels around.

Your heart races in your ears. The whistling wind is replaced by a thundering drum. Your fear tempos as his determination guides his touch.

He pokes along your entrance and dips his fingertips just inside. He wiggles them as you whine again and brace beneath his chest, a layer of soft flesh pillowed over hard muscles. No, it can’t be. You saw it on the screens. On the pages. He is a hero. He saves people. He doesn’t do this.

He turns you onto your back and shifts his weight over you. You exhale as you look up at the stubble on his chin. You push until your nails crease in his flesh. He does not relent.

He parts your legs with his. He slips free his fingers and unwinds his arm from behind you. You sniff as your eyes burn with disbelief and fear.

“Please don’t,” you babble.

He doesn’t listen. Or maybe he doesn’t hear you. His other hand creeps around and pushes your chin up. He frames your jaw tightly as he rocks and rubs his rigid length against your pelvis. He groans as you feel him twitching.

He grips his dick and drags his tip down, tracing along the vee of your thigh and to your slit. He delves between your lips, rubbing up and down as you squirm in his grasp. Your hands are flat to his stomach as you push futilely.

Your voice evaporates with all of your strength. You feel the paralysis that comes with knowing there’s nothing you can do. You lift your eyes to the dark caverns of the ceiling and stare into the abyss.

He pokes along your entrance. You hiss as he presses against it, threatening to stretch you, even split you. He leans into you, slowly barging his way into you. Your body strains to take him as he lets out a long groan. Inch by inch he invades your body, conquering you as he keeps you pinned beneath the blanket.

The grey ends of his hair tickle you as he sinks until you can take no more. Your tears wobble in the brims of your eyes and you blow out a willowy sob. He lowers his head to brush his prickly stubble against your cheek. His gritty breaths blaze over your ear and he growls as he tilts back.

He pumps into you as you quaver out stunted cries. He rears back with long, slow strokes, only to slam back in quickly, holding himself deep before retreating again. You no longer feel the cold or the warmth, just his violation.

“W-w-w-w...” you rasp quietly under your tortured breath. The noise of flesh, wet and dry, meeting and parting echoes in the cave. “Why...”

He thrusts into you again. He keeps himself buried at the point of agony. You snivel and free a hand to mop your face. He lifts his head and hushes you as he shoves your arm away, caressing your splotchy cheeks with his thick thumb.

“You didn’t think I was saving you, did you?” He nuzzles your forehead as he snarls. “Doll, they made you for me to claim.”

You squeak and latch onto his wrist. Squeezing as he snaps his hip, jolting your entire body. Your pain swells with panic. You don’t understand what he means. If he didn’t save you, why did he kill all those people?

“Yielding, used,” you flinch as your temples tingle with the timbre of his voice. “Vessel, dusklight,” he continues reciting the disjointed words. Your eyes feel loose as if they might roll out, “forty-five, wilting.” You ears ring and you shake your head, digging your nails into his forearm, “one, belonging,” he ruts into you harder with each word, “together,” your skin crawls as your insides burn, “surrender.”

With his last word, your body goes limp. You can’t move but you can feel. You can feel it all. He pushes his hand around your head and cradles it as he bows his head to nuzzle your neck. His breath dampens your skin with each desperate burrowing into your core.

“They programmed you for me, doll,” he puffs into the crook of your shoulder. “They put a switch in you...” he groans and tenses as his other hand stretches beneath you to raise your ass, opening you even more to him. “That only I can flip.”

You don’t even have the power to cry. You can only lay there and stare and suffer. If he isn’t going to save you, no one else is.

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