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badbihbunnie · 6 years

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A M O R P H O U S (2/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Reader

Words: 2,5k

Warnings: smut

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N o A n g e l

The air condition is a slow hum in the back of her ears, a bare whisper she isn‘t able to pick up. She is too occupied, her mind filled, her senses clouded. Too long, it had been, since she’s been touched like this, held in the arms of a strong man as his hips rocked her back and forth in a steady pace.

„You sure want to do this?“ his deep tone asks in silent wonder, causing her to pause slightly and think.

Think whether she really wants to do this in one of the many office bathrooms, the company she works at, offers. A part of her tells her to go with it. To enjoy the thrill of being in a public environment about to commit something sinful. Another part of her, however, tells her to screw the idea. To pull her skirt from around her hips and kiss the handsome stranger goodbye. She would never speak of it again, would never think back to what she could have had. But that part, much like the steady breathing of the air conditioning, she ignores. Pushes it back and allows her hands to reach for the buttons on his pants.

Her eyes, bright as the moon on a cloudless night, open, looking to find the ones opposite from her. „Shut up.“ she but manages to sing in need as her lips glide over the roughly shaven parts of his chin, his cheeks and the soft skin on his neck.

Her man chuckles, a low note, from deep inside his throat. „Just making sure.“ simple, and yet his words are swallowed as her swollen lips connect with his in a hungry and firm kiss. The strangers hands play with the hem of her underwear, teasing the sparse peace of fabric before pushing them aside to run a finger along her opening.

She can't hold back the hiss drawn from between her lips, her breath getting stuck behind clenched teeth. „Don't“ she barely growls, eyes closing as the muscles in her lower abdomen tighten painfully. „None of that. No teasing“

And again, she allows him to lure her in with a smile of his. Silently, he looks into her eyes, slowly closing in on her lips. Excitement bubbles within her, adrenaline pumping through her veins as her breathing picks up speed. „Don‘t worry. I got you.“ his breath is a sweet concoction leaving her begging for more; it is a scent of mints combined with the bittersweet taste of tobacco he inhaled when she stepped outside to gather her lunch before they ended up in one of the bathroom‘s cubicles. „Just look at you: pupils blown with lust. Your - “

His tongue moves out to caress her lips. „Lips: wet.“ his fingers play a silent rhythm on the strings of her sanity, a pumping beat echoing within her walls, traveling to her brain. Cirlce around her bundle of nerves, going in, going out. Twist, in again and then out. Pinch. Again, she hisses, inhaling more of that divine air that is his breath.

His eyes, so stark in contrast to her own, look deeply into hers, erasing all previous doubts she may have had. She is weak in his strong arms, useless as her legs are wrapped around his waist, her arms circling his shoulders and neck, holding herself up.

His hands move fast, pushing the contraceptive over his length and guiding himself to her core. His head is a tease against the walls to her paradise, a sweet sensation kissing her legs as she starts to quiver. All too quickly he snaps, an impulsive thrust inside leaving her breathless, gasping for air. Nails dig into his scalp, pulling on the soft tresses of his hair and inhaling the scent of his cologne at the tip of her nose. Her mind is wilding, her senses too far gone while his hips make sweet love to her.

No, she thinks. This isn't love, it couldn't be. Not under these circumstances. She barely knows the man, let alone told him her name for this to be love. She is sure of it. But she loves the way he makes her feel, the way he fills her up and makes her yearn. She loves the determination in his eyes, his brows drawing together in concentration.

„Hen- „ she barely gets out before she is kissed again, his lips connecting with hers, their tongues fighting for dominance.

The man in front of her moves to her neck, trailing harsh kisses down its length. „Shhh“ he whispers. „No talking.“ it is the feeling of warm breath against the shell of her ear, the pressure inside her slowly building, that causes her to whimper.

„Listen.“ she barely catches over the deafening sound of blood rushing to her ears and cheeks. The main door to the bathroom opens, sudden footsteps clicking against the light tiles beneath her form. Her eyes widen in panic. His speed decreases and yet his thrusts intensify. „Dont wanna get caught now, do we?“

Deeply, he pushes into her, dragging her further into the bathroom stall before he finally sits down onto the closed seat - she placed on top of him. Shortly, they lose contact, his length leaving her warmth, allowing her to catch her breath before it is taken from her again.

A groan escapes his lips and in her stupor, she presses her hands against his mouth, praying that they hadn't been caught.

„Hello?“ Her hands start to sweat, the knot in her stomach decreasing with every thrust of his hips, with every movement of hers. He grunts again, making her eyes widen.

„Hello?“ the voice questions again, this time closer, louder. Whoever it is, figured out which stall they were in. She could see their feet at the bottom of the door, shyly peaking through the opening. „Is someone there?“ her ears pick up slow whirring of metal and soft clicking before the man beneath her gives his finals thrusts, breath picking up and then slowing. A few twitches inside of her and he slumps against the toilet seat. His groans and the sudden flush of the toilet overpower her embarrassment, the sick feeling in her stomach.

Disgusted, she looks at him, the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, the blown pupils of his eyes. She opens her mouth to protest, to cry out, when he beats her to it.

„Yeah man,“ he barely guides her hips over his own, twitching once again as he reaches a sensitive spot. „Just had a heavy lunch.“

„Oh.“ the man from the opposite site of the door mentions. She, however, ignores it, the tightness in her chest growing, her anger bubbling over. „Make sure not leave a mess in there.“ In seconds his footstep grow quieter, the screeching of a door opening and closing dancing in the air. It is her cue to push against his shoulders and stand up. It is her cue to fix her dress, smooth out any wrinkles and rebutton her shirt.

„That was nice.“ the man whispers, one of his hands reaching for hers. Her head snaps in his direction, hard eyes meeting his. „We should do this agai-„

„No.“ she states, hand running along her ponytail, releasing the end to let it swing freely and settle against the length of her neck. Swiftly, she turns, unlocking the door and walking out. She leaves him slumped against the toilet seat, pants unbuckled, blissfull. „Fucking asshole.“ she whispers as she walks out the front door, ignoring his pleas to tell him her name, heels tapping against the marble floor.

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A trail of curses leave her mouth, as the soles of her heels continue to click against the ground. Done with the day, ready to quit and go back home, (y/n) stands in line of a foreign bistro, hoping that she could salvage what‘s left of her miserable break with something to eat.

„I‘m sorry m‘am but one of our machines is currently broken.“ the cashier in front of her says. (Y/N) looks from her purse, having just fished out her wallet, and into the eyes of the girl. „Would you mind ordering something else? Again, I am terribly sorry!“

She would have loved to scream no, to take her belongings and walk right out of the little shop. (y/n), however, knew: attitude wouldn't get her anywhere. At least, the cashier was trying her best, offering a warm smile. With a sigh (y/n) looks at the menu, eyes scanning the list. She doesn‘t even know the place let alone any of the menus listed in front of her. What is this place again? Iraq? Palestine maybe?

Teeth grinding against one another, her tongue swipe over her lips. „Number -„ she hesitates, eyes roaming the list. „seventy four I guess?“

Her eyes roll against the back of her head. Her lunch break was slowly coming to an end. „With chicken. No onions, no peppers, no cabbage, red or white. And definitely no tomatoes. Make it spicy though and not too much of the sauce. I‘ll take a bottle of water as well, please.“ the cashier in front of her smiles, nodding her head.

„Alright.“ the girl behind the register smiles again. „That will be $11.65“ Handing over the money, she tells the girl to keep the change before moving aside to look for an available spot in the small restaurant. She could stay inside, saving herself from having to listen to New York‘s busy life style. The sun, however, was out which was a nice change for once, snd maybe that would cheer her up and lift her mood.

„You won‘t mind me sitting down, will you?“ not waiting for an answer, (y/n)‘s legs move forward. „I will be outside.“

Fishing out her sunglasses, (y/n) places them on top of her nose, shielding her eyes from the warm rays of the glowing sun. Looking around, she notices the different faces, the many laughing smiles; couples walking around, hand in hand, in love. Children begging their parents for ice cream. Her eyes then land on the man seating himself in front of her.

„You won‘t mind sharing this bench, right?“ the man, maybe a decade older than her - she isn‘t entirely sure - asks. (y/n) could feel his eyes on her from beneath his sunglasses. She knows him. How couldn't she. Everybody knows who he is and he didn't have a problem letting her know, when he sits without awaiting her answer.

The on going conversation on his phone doesn't stop, even when he asked her whether hed be able to sit with her. „I understand!“ his voice picks up, eyes slowly scanning over (y/n) before his body turned and his hand went up to scratch the back of his neck.

„I know and I am unbelievably sorry, sweetheart but they needed me.“ he tries to reason with whoever he was speaking to. „Okay they needed Iron Man. But see it this way: Iron Man, Tony Stark, same person really. I see no difference. I‘ll make it up to you. Promise!“

The man turns back to her. „Hello?“ His brows draw together, hand lifting from his ear to look the phone‘s screen. She wants to say something, be witty and maybe even make him laugh a little. She keeps silent, minding her own business.

„Number seventy four and a bottle of water?“ a young waiter asks, holding a plate with her food in shaking hands. Nodding her head, (y/n) signals for him to place her order on the table. A quick thank you leaves her lips. „Mr. Stark.“ the young boy exclaims. „Would you like the usual?“

„Ah yes, nice to see you again.“ his hands clap together, watching carefully as (y/n) adjusts the meal on her plate. „No thank you. I‘m afraid I don't have the time, today. You know, I just came from a walk - trying to clear my head. It‘s been a long day at work.“

(Y/n) supresses the snort trying to escape her and rips off a piece from the foil her food is wrapped in. „I just wanted to sit down. Get something done - “ his back straightens, causing (y/n) to do the same, high ponytail swinging over her shoulder with a swift movement of her head. „And enjoy the view.“ From under her lashes, she notices him fiddle with his phone, twisting and turning it in his hands. She can feel him watch her as her hands guide her sunglasses from her nose and onto her head.

He smiles at the waiter. „Maybe some other time.“

„As you wish, Mr. Stark.“ the waiter‘s arms disappear behind his back, before he himself disappears back into the restaurant.

„Schawarma, huh.“ the man opposite from her notices as she‘s about to take her first bite. „It’s my usual. One of their best meals here.“

(Y/n) barely acknowledges him, a meaningless smile on her lips. „I wouldn‘t know, love. I‘ve never been here before.“ her voice is soft, calm and collected. So different to how she feels inside.

„You‘ll enjoy it.“ he assures her. „Of course it‘s not as good as American man and the atmosphere is not quite as prestigeous as office bathrooms, but - is that an accent I hear? British maybe?“

His words make (y/n)‘s head snap up at him, the first bite in her mouth long forgotten. „I‘m not judging, you know. We‘ve all been there-„

„I’m sorry.“ interrupting him as she swallows, head slightly tilting. „Who are you again?“ She desperately tries to fight her body‘s natural instinct to blush and cower in embarrassment. Instead, her lips purse, brows raised in question. Her eyes unimpressed.

„I must admit I‘m quite offended.“ he laughs an earnest laughter, mocking her accent at the same time. „I would have hoped for you to recognize the face that signs your pay checks every month, Miss (y/ln).“

(Y/n) swallows hard, her stomach churning at the thought of having been caught. Hoping he wouldn't have noticed her being caught off guard, she swallows again, dabbing her mouth clean, sipping from her water. „Been silently watching from afar, sir?“ He smiles. „In that case you could have just asked to join. Two’s a crowd but three‘s a party.“

He claps his phone against his hands; once, twice, before checking the time and getting up. „I like to have my eyes on my employees, Miss (y/l/n).“ (y/n) swallows.

„Especially the ones that pique my interest.“

#bucky barnes x enhanced reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #marvel #smut #bucky smut #bucky x reader #avengers

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badbihbunnie · 7 years

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Late Night Comfort

Pairing: (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Summary: After years of having been neglected, someone has decided to come back into your life, throwing you completely off guard.

Warnings: I haven’t written in months! So this may be bad and somewhat unfinished. But it’s raw, pure emotions I’m sure some can relate to.

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Too many thoughts run through her head, clouding her mind as she tries to make sense of it all. All the memories, too many times in which she had been mistreated, it all comes crushing down on her. Tears well in her eyes, threatening to spill any second. How could he? After all that he’s done! After all that he’s put her through!

You can make this better. You have the powers, right? You won’t let daddy dwell in pain.

Would she? Make it all better that is? She knows, deep down, they would could never be. Not if he was alive. Not if she gave him a second chance at life.

Y/N moves quickly to stand in front of the metal doors of the elevator, pressing the small button to signal her desire to move floors. She feels drained, overwhelmed by everything that’s been going on: her sisters arrival, the sudden message of her father needing help, the visit in the hospital, and so many other things she couldn’t keep track of; her latest mission, the sudden change in attitude Bucky greeted her with. Confused, distraught, exhausted Y/N steps into the small comfort of the elevator, the soft pastel colours inside. Soft music plays, not managing to ease her ache, the tension in her muscles.

All too quickly the four-wall enclosure takes her to the main floor of Stark Tower. Almost robot-like, artificial, her legs drag her towards an empty kitchen, an empty seat awaiting her empty shell of a body. Not bothering to turn on the light, she sits down, and does … nothing - merely sits in the darkness that consumes her.

Blank, is her mind. Her body an empty form, ready to be filled - with hope, closure. Anything that would subside the burning she felt, the constant pull on her heart that made her question her decisions. What was she going to do? Would she be able to let him die; the man that caused her too much pain. The man who ripped out her heart by casting her away, sending her off where no one would find out about what she really was: a freak, an abomination. Something so vile, she’d never be loved. Yet here he was, asking for help, for her help in particular.

Silently, she thanks the heavens that she was alone. She wouldn’t want anyone to see her break down, the tears which finally escape her stubborn hold. One after another they drop, cascade down her cheeks, her nose, and drip onto the soft fabric of her coat. Y/N’s hands are clenched tightly, her fingers and nails digging into the soft surface of her palms. She is filled with energy, and she needs to let it out, needs to find release.

And so she finds herself walking towards her room, anxiously awaiting to throw anything against the walls, break her memories as he did with her heart. The brown box is quickly drawn from underneath her bed, her bloody palms digging through its contents. Old recording, memories stowed away and long forgotten, Y/N doesn’t stop until her hands hold what she’s so naively kept all these years: a picture of both herself and her father. She was young, seated in his lap with no clue what would soon happen to her - what would happen because of him. Her fingers glide over the glass, its cool material being a nice contrast to the heat inside her. She relishes the movement of her arm drawing back before she swiftly swings it forward again. Almost too slow, as if in slow-motion, Y/N watches as the picture frame spins in air, the careless smiles on the positive haunting her. With a satisfying cling, the glass shatters against the wall, breaks into what is left of her. The feeling, however, diminishes all too quickly. Vases, expensive accessory collected over time, follows suit, all breaking, resembling what is her current state.

Too soon, Y/N runs out of crystal to throw. She’s left in the middle of chaos, broken glass and feelings she can’t handle. Had it been worth it? While she felt lighter, the heaviness on her heart remains and threatens to pull her under again; to drown and kill what she so desperately tries to cling on to. She wants to scream, at anyone: at her father, at Bucky, Tony, Steve, Natasha. Anyone. Just to get this feeling off of her. Frantically she rips her jacket off, carelessly throwing it on her bed. The light camisole she wears under it clings to her body, sweat and tears bathing her dirty. Y/N parts her lips, breathing heavily, ready to call out. Loud and filled with pain: the scream resonates within her walls, shake her form and what is left of her furniture. One, two, three. Between each scream there is a pause, a pregnant silence in which her beating heart is the only noise she acknowledges. She’s never known someone to be able to scream as loud, as heart breaking. And yet he manages to. Forgetting her pain, she reaches for her door to run towards his.

Without realizing what she actually is doing, she stops in front of his door. The screams become louder from where she stands and even louder from inside. There he is: trashing in his bed as sweat coats his face and arms, his exposed shoulders and the soft lengths of dark hair on his head. Y/N watches from beside Bucky’s bed, entranced by the way his body curves and bends as the demons of his dreams chase after him. Soft pleading escapes his lips, brush against the tip of his tongue and find their way to Y/N’s ears. Startled, Bucky jerks from his nightmare. Y/N doesn’t move, doesn’t dare to make a sound as she catches his eyes; eyes so beautiful and clear, yet filled with too many worries, too much pain. Wordlessly, she slips from her heels to rest at the head of his bed. All events of tonight pushed aside, she crosses her legs and beckons him to place his head in her lap.

Not asking any questions, obeying immediately, Bucky rests in the warmth of her jeans clad legs, the comfort of her motives. Soft fingers find his temples, massaging thoroughly as the pressure on this brain is but a low buzz, a steady hum. A blue hue, the extension of her mind and her abilities, glow softly in the room, illuminating a ridiculous scene.

“He’s asked for my help.” Y/N suddenly mentions, breaking the silence and the air around the two of them. “After all these years.” She laughs, a humorless breath of air escaping her lips.

“And I’m supposed to play the part of the good little daughter - the forgiving angel I was made to be - and do what he says. All because he is who he is.” Bucky looks from below his lashes to see new tears gathering in her eyes. Yet, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move as her soft voice carries a soothing melody to his aching head. “Is that fair? To expect something of such - ”

The words get stuck in her throat. For once in the long time that he’s known her, he’s finally seen her speechless, at a loss for words.

“I don’t know.” He finally answers after what feels like forever, his voice raw, raspy, almost inaudible to her ears.

“Neither do I.” She admits. “Neither do I.” She repeats, her hands faltering in their movements.

#marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #the avengers #natasha romanov #reader #pietro maximoff #feelings #nights #writing #the winter soldier #steve rogers #sebastian stan #chris evans #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes preference #avengers imagine

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