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buckysleftbicep · 1 month ago

Text

exit wounds 𐙚 b.b

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, choking, hairpulling, rough sex, degradation, overstimulation, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, possessiveness, dom!bucky, angst

summary: after you put yourself in danger once again during a mission, bucky finally snaps.

word count: 3.2k

author's note: hello my loves, i hope you enjoy this fic! also, i am currently looking through all the requests i've received and am excited to say i got started on a few! so please, keep sending them, fresh ideas always helps me write better! love you guys and please stay safe out there!

want him so badly

The storm broke before the mission did.

Rain pelted the shattered rooftops, thunder cracked above as you darted through the ruined alleyways of Bucharest, your pulse hammering in your ears. The objective was simple, get in, extract the intel, get out.

“Left. Take the left,” Bucky’s voice crackled through your comms, taut with command.

“I see the target,” you shot back, breathless. “I’m going in.”

“You go in alone, and I swear to god—”

You cut the line.

Not because you were being reckless. You knew what you were doing. You had spent hours upon hours studying the building’s layout, the guards’ rotations, and the window of opportunity that was already closing.

You didn’t need him barking orders in your ear. And you especially didn’t need your boyfriend second-guessing you when you were this close to securing the objective.

But then, behind you—boots pounded on wet concrete, close, fast, and furious.

“Fuck—(y/n)!”

Too late.

The intel was secured. The flash drive sat warm in the lining of your suit, pressed against your sternum. On paper, the mission was a success.

But the cost?

Three injured agents. A building engulfed in fire. And Bucky’s silence on the jet ride towards the nearest safehouse, the tension was thick enough to choke on. He hadn’t looked at you once.

Not when you handed Val the drive. Not when she nodded coolly and dismissed you without a word of praise. Not when the soft hydraulic hiss of the safehouse doors opened and when the rest of the team shuffled in like ghosts.

Now it was just the two of you. The others had scattered quietly, retreating to their temporary rooms for the night. The rain still dripped from your suit's collar, blood clung dry beneath your fingernails, and the silence between you and Bucky pulsed like a second heartbeat.

You peeled your damp tactical vest from your shoulders and tossed it onto the table. Every breath you took felt too loud in the stillness. Your skin was still buzzed with leftover adrenaline and heat, you didn't know if it was from the mission of the confrontation you knew was about to come.

You heard the final set of footsteps retreat, then the soft click of the outer door.

Still, you didn’t turn around.

“I had it,” you said calmly, your voice flat but controlled. “You didn’t need to come after me.”

He didn’t respond at first.

But you could feel him. The tension radiated off him like heat off an engine block. You didn’t need to look to know his jaw was clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. You could already feel his glare burning through your back almost as if it was trying to set you aflame.

You met his eyes—cerulean, but sharper than usual. Tense. Controlled.

“I got the drive, didn’t I?”

“That’s not the fucking point,” he snapped, the steel in his voice sharp now. “Three agents could’ve died (y/n). You could’ve died.”

“I didn’t,” you bit out. “And I wasn’t going to.”

His mouth twisted, his chest heaving once before he spoke again, voice splintering. “You think I give a shit about your stats? Your little field heroics?” His voice cracked then, just slightly.

“You think I want to scrape you off the concrete one day just because you were too stubborn to follow the damn protocol?”

You barked a bitter laugh. "Funny. You’ve been quiet up until now.”

He moved fast.

One moment, he was across the room. The next, he was inches from you, towering, taut with anger, fist clenched so tight you could see the veins straining in his forearm.

“You wanna say that again?” he asked, low and dangerous.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to flinch. “I said—”

“Don’t,” he cut in sharply. “Don’t test me tonight.”

“Why not?” you hissed. “You’ve been dying to explode since we landed Bucky. Go ahead. Yell. Blame me. Do what you always do when you don’t get your damn way—”

He didn’t yell. He didn’t move.

He just looked at you. And somehow, that was worse.

The silence that followed crackled with heat. His jaw tensed, eyes burning into yours like he was holding back with everything he had.

Then, slow and deliberate, he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His body radiated heat, tension rolling off him in waves.

“You think this is about me?” he whispered, dangerously quiet now.

“You think I give a fuck if I look bad in the debrief? I don’t care about orders, (y/n). I care about you. And you made the call without backup, without thinking. Again."

“I knew what I was doing,” you murmured, but it came out thinner now.

“And if you were wrong?” he snapped. His breath hit your cheek—damp, hot, ragged. “If I hadn’t gone in after you?”

You couldn’t answer. Because you didn’t know.

And suddenly the room felt too small. Too close. Your heart pounded against your ribs like it wanted out.

He was so close you could smell the rain still clinging to his skin, see the soaked-through fabric of his black shirt clinging to every line of muscle. His hair was still damp, curling around his jaw as his chest rose and fell with heavy, measured breaths.

He looked frayed at the edges, barely holding it together, and burning with fury.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said, voice rough. “You think I care about the mission? You think I care about what Val thinks?”

Your breath hitched.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered. “I was just… I needed to prove I could handle it.”

He took another step forward. “To who?”

You blinked.

“To Val? The team?” He shook his head, eyes narrowing. “Or to me?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Your silence said enough.

Bucky’s hand came up, not fast, not aggressive, but deliberate. It hovered near your jaw, then gently ghosted along the column of your throat. Two fingers settled over your pulse, barely there. Feeling it. Reading you.

“You think I don’t see you?” he murmured. “Think I don’t know what you’re trying to prove every time you run headfirst into danger like you have nothing to lose?”

“You don’t have to be reckless to be worthy of standing next to me,” he said, and something broke in his voice then. Softer. Almost broken. “You already are.”

Your breath stuttered.

You hadn’t meant to move. You hadn’t even noticed your body leaning forward until your chest brushed his. Until you felt the ragged breath he caught against your cheek, until your eyes met his, and everything stopped.

He looked at you like he was drowning in everything he hadn’t said, rage, fear, hunger, all of it right there in his eyes, barely held back.

His thumb brushed your jaw, tilting your chin up. His touch was light, barely there, but it felt like the only thing tethering you to the ground.

“You keep pushing me,” he said, voice low and quiet, the kind of quiet that carried weight.

His eyes didn’t leave yours. “Always testing. Always toeing the line.”

Your throat tightened as you swallowed, pulse fluttering beneath your skin. A slow ache bloomed between your thighs, the kind that only got worse when you held his gaze.

“And what if I’m doing it on purpose?” you murmured. “What if I want you to snap?”

Something shifted behind his gaze, a flicker of heat barely restrained, and the air between you crackled like a live wire. His jaw flexed, his body unmoving, and then, the corner of his mouth lifted. Slow, measured, anything but kind.

“You really want to see what happens when I do?” he gritted out

“Maybe I like seeing how far I can push you.”

You didn’t get a second to breathe.

His hand clamped around your throat, not hard enough to cut off your air, but firm enough to remind you who was in control as he shoved you backward.

You stumbled, caught off guard, and then—without warning, he turned you. One arm braced across your shoulders, the other sliding between your thighs. You barely had time to gasp before he was behind you, chest flush to your back, hips grinding into your ass.

His body pinned you in place, unforgiving and close, and suddenly there was no space, no air, nothing except the burn of him against you and the way your body reacted, fast, instinctive and shameless.

“You want to push me?” Bucky snarled, the words like gravel dragged through his teeth. “Then take it. Don’t you fucking run from it now.”

Your pulse throbbed wildly beneath his fingers. He felt it—you knew he did—because he smiled against your neck. It wasn’t kind. It was the smile of a man barely containing the storm underneath, teeth bared like a wolf on a leash.

You tried to turn your head, to spit something sharp, something defiant, but his metal hand was there in an instant, pinning your cheek to the wall with a ruthless kind of tenderness. Cold vibranium fingers spread across your jaw, holding you still like he was lining up a shot.

“Don’t move unless I tell you to,” he growled. “You don’t get to talk back. Not after the fucking stunt you pulled.”

Then—he tore your suit open.

The front zipper split with a vicious rip, teeth dragging down your sternum, and then the fabric was shoved roughly off your shoulders. Your bra came into view, your skin prickling in the open air, exposed and vulnerable and throbbing with anticipation.

He didn’t hesitate.

His mouth latched onto the side of your neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, and your body reacted instantly, arching toward him, heat coiling low in your belly, wetness pooling between your thighs before you could even think to stop it.

It was humiliating how fast he had you soaked.

“Fucking wet,” he hissed, voice sharp with satisfaction. His flesh hand slid down the front of your suit. Two fingers pressed through your panties and straight into your slit, finding you hot, drenched and needy. “You’re dripping, sweetheart. All that mouth and you still want me this bad?”

You moaned—shameless, high-pitched and he growled like it offended him.

“Pathetic.”

Your suit hit the ground in a heap, shoved down carelessly around your boots. He didn’t bother to strip you completely, he didn’t need to. He just yanked them down far enough to spread your thighs apart, leaving you open, exposed, and trembling.

Then you heard it—the heavy clink of his belt, the hiss of his zipper. Your body jolted at the sound.

“Look at you,” he muttered, low and mean. “Begging to be fucked like a slut after risking your life like a dumb little brat.” The words hit you hard and god, they made your pussy throb.

You clenched around nothing, slick dripping down your thighs, and the worst part was how much you loved it. How much you needed more, needed him.

Your breath stuttered, your hips tilting back instinctively, shameless in how fast you were unraveling for him. You didn’t care what he called you. As long as he didn’t stop. As long as he fucked you like he meant every filthy word.

He pumped his cock once—twice—right behind you. You could feel it already, flushed and hard and heavy, the tip brushing the curve of your ass as he lined himself up.

“You wanted this,” Bucky rasped, voice dragging low and dark. “You pushed me on purpose. You knew exactly what would happen.”

You whimpered, cheeks burning.

And then he laughed, low and cruel and knowing.

“You like it when I’m like this, don’t you?”

His cock dragged through your folds—slick with your arousal, bumping your clit before dipping lower, teasing your entrance with maddening pressure. You nearly sobbed.

“Y-yes… I like it,” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut as your thighs trembled. “I wanted it. I wanted this. W-wanted you like this.”

He slammed into you.

You cry out, the stretch splitting you wide open in one unrelenting thrust. No warning. No mercy. Your nails scraped against the wall as your body spasmed around him, pussy clenching instinctively around the thick length now buried to the hilt.

“Oh my fucking—”

He slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Be quiet,” he gritted out, breath hot on your ear. “They’ll hear you.”

You moaned into his palm, the sound muffled and desperate, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes as he began to move—long, deep thrusts that rocked your entire body.

Each snap of his hips sent you forward, your chest jolting against the cold wall with every brutal push. Your legs shook beneath you, barely able to hold you up under the weight of him, his rhythm, his heat, the relentless way he claimed every inch of your body.

His cock hit every spot inside you—deep, relentless, perfect in its punishment. Each thrust drove you harder into the wall, your palms flattened against the cold surface, fingers splayed like you were holding on for dear life.

The air was thick with the sound of slick skin and broken moans, the wet slap of him pounding into you again and again until all you could do was whimper, body shaking, needing more.

He was ruthless.

“You feel that?” he grunted, fucking into you harder. “You feel how deep I am? Fuck, princess, your pussy’s squeezing me.”

You nodded, eyes rolling back. Everything was too much. Not enough.

He grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, lips brushing your ear.

“You gonna come already? Just from this? From getting fucked like you’re made for it?”

You tried to speak, tried to form a word, a plea, anything but your mouth refused to work. All that came out was a desperate, broken moan, choked off by the force of him inside you.

Every muscle in your body was strung tight, overwhelmed, aching, begging for release, but all you could do was let the sound of your need echo in the space between you, raw and strung out and wordless.

He let go of your mouth and slapped your ass—hard.

“Say it,” he snarled. “Tell me how badly you want to come.”

“I, god—I need it,” you choked. “Please, need your cock, need you to—”

He pulled out. Completely.

You cry, voice raw with frustration.

Bucky laughed, voice thick with dominance.

“Look at you. Falling apart already. And I haven’t even gotten started.”

Before you could respond, he seized your wrists and twisted them behind your back, pinning them there easily with his hand. The cool press of vibranium against your skin made your breath hitch, your chest rising in shallow gasps.

You barely had time to brace yourself before he drove back into you—harder, deeper, with a force that knocked a strangled sound from your throat and sent sparks ricocheting through your core.

Your body jolted. Your mouth dropped open in a silent cry. His flesh hand wrapped around your waist, fingers finding your clit again—rubbing tight, relentless circles in time with each brutal thrust.

You were unravelling, your legs burned and your body trembled. You were a babbling, incoherent mess as your orgasm built again—rising like a fucking tsunami.

“Don’t you dare come,” he growled. You tried. Fuck, you tried.

But he was everywhere—his cock driving into that sweet spot deep inside you with ruthless precision, his fingers working your clit in tight, relentless circles that had you trembling. His voice, low and filthy, poured into your ear like sin itself, each word pushing you closer to the edge.

“Say it,” he rasped. “Say who owns you.”

You sobbed.

“You do, Bucky! You do—”

“Good fucking girl.”

And then he snapped his hips again, slamming into you so deep you felt it in your throat.

You came with a strangled cry, body seizing as pleasure tore through you like a live wire. Your cunt clenched around him in tight, desperate pulses, milking every inch as wetness spilled down your thighs, slicking his cock and coating both of you in heat and ruin.

You slumped forward, forehead pressed to the wall, barely able to hold yourself upright as your orgasm wracked through you.

But he didn’t stop, he kept going—kept fucking you through it like he was trying to brand you from the inside out.

You sobbed, body trembling uncontrollably.

“That’s it,” he snarled. “Take it. Cry if you want princess, I’m not stopping.”

Your knees gave out, barely holding you upright and then the second wave hit. He slammed into you hard, tearing through your body before you had a chance to catch your breath.

You clenched around him again, tighter this time, a cry ripping from your throat as you came all over his cock. Everything blurred, your vision, your thoughts, until all that was left was the sharp pulse of pleasure and the rough sound of him still moving behind you.

“Gonna fill you up,” he muttered, pounding into you with short, broken thrusts. “Stuff you full, just like you deserve. Let it drip down those pretty thighs. Let everyone see who fucked you like this.”

He groaned—loud, rough—and then shuddered, cock twitching as he spilled inside you. You felt the warmth of it, the pulse of his release, the way his entire body seemed to collapse into yours.

The only sound was your wrecked breathing, the whine of your body, and the soft drip of his cum sliding down your thighs.

You were trembling, undone in every possible way—mind blank, body limp, pleasure still echoing through your nerves. Your knees wouldn’t hold you, but he didn’t let you fall. His arms were around you instantly, strong and steady, pulling you into his chest like he could anchor you there, like he needed to.

His breathing was still ragged, chest rising and falling against your back. His lips pressed to your temple, slow and soft, and you felt the way he lingered, like he was grounding himself, too.

“You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded, barely able to speak. Tears still clung to your lashes, not from pain, not even from the intensity, but from the overwhelming ache in your chest.

He kissed your temple again. Then your jaw. Then the corner of your mouth.

“Don’t ever fucking do that again.” he murmured.

You blinked, surprised by the tremble in his voice. He wasn’t angry. Not now.

“I can’t—” he swallowed, brow pressed to yours. “I know you’re capable, I know you’re smart. But I can’t watch you walk into something like that again.”

Your throat tightened.

“I thought I could handle it,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “No. No more of that. If something happened to you out there—”

He cut himself off. Pulled you closer. One hand cradled the back of your head. The other still wrapped around your waist, like he was afraid you would slip through his fingers.

“You don’t get to scare the shit out of me like that,” he rasped, voice cracking. “I’ve lost so much—and, fuck, I can’t lose you too.”

He looked away, just for a second, like the words hurt to say.

“I wouldn’t survive it.”

You nuzzled into his chest, heart hammering. His scent, his warmth, the rasp of his voice in your ear, it was all too much and not enough.

“I’m sorry,” you said, small and hoarse.

Bucky didn’t say anything right away. He just held you tighter, kissed the top of your head.

“I know”

requests are open!

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kiwiorcore · 1 year ago

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tomii hi!! hope you're good and i just wanted to know what you thought about the whole hamilton to ferrari thing? i still don't know much about f1 but even i felt like this was really important 😭 and i love reading anything you say too lol so it's better from you than anyone else 🫶🏽🫶🏽 also unrelated but please talk about tennant's macbeth i'll send another ask if i have to, i'm so curious!! love you and i hope you're doing well!!

hii! sorry for the late response

honestly i don’t think the reality of lewis moving to ferrari has well and truly set in. it’s just a bit confusing for me why he’s doing it cause merc doesn’t stink that badly and ferrari isn’t that good either. i don’t have anything insightful to say it’s just kinda like ‘wait is this seriously happening?’

spoilers for david tennant’s macbeth under the cut i guess??? can you really spoil macbeth?

so my drama teacher chose this production for out live performance review and oh my god was it good. like where do i even start

the staging was so good i loved it so much. i liked the like glass enclosure they had behind the stage. it was such an interesting staging decision. the lighting as well was sooo good. it’s such a joy to analyse. the live music they had added so much to the production it would have not been the same without it

someday i wish to be like max webster because only he could’ve come up with the idea to use binaural sound for the whole production. the witches at the beginning??? i jumped i loved them so much

david tennant was so good for the role of macbeth. he’s got a very insane look about him and he plays macbeth really well

on the topic of macbeth, cush jumbo played lady macbeth so well. i loved lady macbeth in this actually. everything about her made her feel like and outsider from her northern accent when the others had scottish accents and the fact she was the only one wearing white. just ugh i love it

malcolm and macduff had bigger roles in this production than others. i wish ross did as well because i love moyo akande but oh well. the time she was on she was really good she’s literally my idol

the actors playing malcolm and macduff must have had bills due during the scene ross comes and tells macduff his wife and kids are dead because that was the make gut wrenching thing i’ve ever watched. noof ousellam (macduff) portrayed macduff’s emotions so well and ros watt (malcolm) really convincingly made himself seem as if he was on the brink of tears

speaking of ros watt, omg ros watt. i loved everything about him. his physicality during the 2nd prophecy, his pleading with macduff, god everything was perfect. ros watt was perfect to play malcolm especially considering he’s smaller than the rest of the cast. just delicious. he’s got those big sad eyes that i love

noof ousellam as well. big massive sad eyes like that’s baby girl (he’s over six feet tall). when he was all up in malcolm’s face shouting, dear god i loved it. my little pea brain starting whirring. something about their height difference does it for me.

this is getting long so let me finish quickly. lady macduff, her screams were fucking bone chilling. the porter was so funny. his actor does really well in comedies. banquo was so fit omg. the child actor they had playing like all the children (and he died so many times poor kid) was surprisingly good as well

i desperately want to write about this version of macbeth/the cast (the guy playing donalbain has a podcast called putting it together and his interviews with the other cast members are really good) but i fear no one actually gives a shit

#sorry for the extended yap #you can really tell i loved ros watt and noof ousellam #i really want to write about them but like no one gives a fuck sooooo #when the recording comes out prepare to be fucking sick of meee #anyway the lewis to ferrari news hasn’t set in and i fear it won’t set in until i see him in a ferrari racing suit #do i tag this f1 tomfoolery?#thank you anon for letting me ramble i love you too #fic material #lowkey #i need an arsenal acting au stat #tomi.txt #🫶🏽 anon #anon asks #macbeth

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