#buckyxyn

You were examining a file on something Hydra called Experiment 4H7, Phase 4. You let the file go before even reading the subject of the experiment and made your way towards Bucky. 

He was wearing his familiar all black outfit, the metal arm a stark silver against the vault’s gold and his suit’s black. He looked over his metal shoulder as you approached. 

“I’m guessing they’re keeping more red rooms in Ukraine,” he stated, showing you the file. There were a number of pictures of young girls varying from blondes to brunets to red heads, all different heights, all different shades of skin tones. 

“Yup,” you sighed, pointing to a line in the file. “That’s a graduate class, I’m guessing, look at that.” You pointed to the German word for Graduation and felt a deep pinch in your belly. These poor women. Unaware that they would be stripped of their rights, of what made them woman. 

You swallowed. “Okay,” you said. “I think we should just leave with what’s by the door?”

You stepped back, feeling the tile beneath your booted heel give and fall an inch lower. A metallic sound, like two gears churning to work, echoed loudly in the vault, and slowly, the vault door started shutting. 

“It’s a boobytrap!” Bucky yelled, dropping the file and running to the door, his metallic hand out to stop it.

“Did I step on a mine?” you yelled back, panic gripping every nerve in your body. 

It felt like time slowed as you looked over your shoulder, soft strands of hair slicking against the sweat on your cheek. You saw Bucky arrive at the door when it had but a few inches left to go, jamming his metal fingers between the closing door and the oval frame.

Every beat of your heart burned as you watched his face flush red, veins in his neck pulsing as he struggled to keep the door just a slight inch open. 

And then, overhead, a quiet squirting sound. You felt tiny pinpricks of water touch your cheek and you looked up. 

“Bucky.” But his name was lost to the sound of him groaning, grunting, heels sliding against the cement floor, sweat forming on his upper lip - all to keep the door from closing. “Bucky!”

When he looked back at you, the vault door closed with a deafening boom. 

“Y/N, don’t breathe in!” he gasped, retrieving his fingers form the door, panting as he made his way towards you. 

“Too late,” you said, feeling the minuscule dots of water dampen the inside of your nose, your lips, your tongue. It tasted so sweet. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, bending to your rest his hand on your boot, the one still pressed on the loose tile. “Y/N, I don’t think it’s a mine.”

You shivered, something achy climbing its way up your spine, burying deep in your belly. “Why?” you asked, closing your eyes as you felt his metal fingers clamp hard over your booted ankle. 

“Because,” he answered. “This was just the trigger for the door.”

You sighed. “Of course, I’m the dumbass who triggers the trap.”

“No worries, doll,” he said with a chuckle, and that nickname, that chuckle, made something sticky and thick slide down your belly, settling comfortably between your legs. Oh no. 

“How do we get out?” you asked, finally moving away from the tile as Bucky stood. You met his eyes, towering over you, and your skin suddenly flashed so hot that you feared he could see the heat fuming off your flesh. You sighed, an excuse to get air into your lungs, to fan out the heat invading your bones. 

He frowned, bent over to get on eye level with you. “Fuck,” he spat, walking towards the door. 

“What?” you asked, suddenly feeling your throat stick, parched, thick with saliva all at once. “Bucky, what’s happening?” You’d wanted your voice to sound panicky, but somehow, it came out... breathy. Like a purr. 

Bucky bashed his metal fist into the vault door, but the thing only echoed the sound back, not even denting, not even screeching. 

“Fuck!” Bucky yelled, raking his flesh hand through his short, cropped hair. 

He looked at you over the expanse of the vault, just a few meters apart, and something inside you ached, like an intense burn that made the fabric of your suit hurt against your skin, feel like hot iron against your nipples, the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh. 

God, you needed to get out of this suit. But not here. 

“How long until Cap comes for us?” you asked, falling to your knees, heat blasting from your knees to your scalp as you found the floor. Maybe it was cold. 

Bucky didn’t answer. He watched you fall flat to the ground, press your heated, sweaty cheek to the floor, chasing any kind of relief from this mounting pain, this heat. 

He gritted his teeth and took a step back. 

“What’s happening?” you asked again, rolling onto your back. The floor was but a brief relief of the heat, of the pain burning harshly under your skin. You closed your sweaty lids, scrapped your nails against your damp hairline. When had you gotten so sweaty? 

You reached up to the zipper of your one-piece suit, ready to tug it down. 

“Y/N, don’t.” Bucky’s voice, usually comforting, friendly, guiding - now sounded like a wolfish demand, a famished lion salivating at the sight of bleeding prey. 

You breathed in harshly, suddenly, your mind shifting the narrative of who Bucky was to you in a split second. A heartbeat before, Bucky was your superior, your friend who’d been nothing but a guiding force through your life - taking you from the depths of fear and desperation to acceptance. He’d brought you to the Avengers, to Cap and Nat, to a team of people like you - misfits who fit together. 

But now. Now the Bucky you knew was shadowed by this new grumbling, groaning wolf. 

“It hurts,” you panted, eyes still closed. You reached up anyway and undid your zipper, opening your suit down to your bellybutton, like slicing open a piece of meat. 

You heard something fleshy hit the floor, and you opened your eyes, looking back. It hurt to scrape your head against the cement, but you saw Bucky on his knees there, looking at you with something dark and hungry glazing over his eyes. 

Your eyes fell back to the ceiling above you, and you opened your suit up, arching off the cement in search of air. Your skin was pebbled with sweat, scorched to the touch. 

“If you expose more skin,” Bucky panted, and you realized that he was closer, almost breathing into your ear. “I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

“What’s happening?” you asked, for the millionth time, feeling an ache start to build dangerously fast in your cunt, throbbing, burning, slicking down your thighs with every beat of your heart. Every rush of blood in your veins was pain, every throb in your hole like a searing demand, an ache insatiable. Even when you wiggled, even when you groaned, clamping your thighs together, turning to your side and trying to find friction.  

Your clit was a pained, throbbing mess. 

“Doll,” Bucky breathed, and God, that sent another wave of hurt coursing down your spine, snapping in your blood like lightning. You could feel your pussy slick even more at the utter wretchedness of his voice.  

You groaned. Shaking your head. “No,” you whined. “Not this.” You’d heard about this - this experiment on something Hydra called sex pollen. They’d first used it in their breeding program they’d started during the second world war, when they wanted more Aryan children. They’d perfected it during the Cold War, and started manufacturing it for breeding camps they’d scattered across barren wastelands to produce more Hydra pawns. And now, they were using it as chemical warfare. 

“Bucky, no,” you whined, feeling hot, steaming tears wet your cheeks. You couldn’t do this. Bucky was your friend, your boss even. He was 7 years older than you (although he was technically like, 109 years old, but still). You were a rookie and he, your training officer. Your were his student and he was your professor. This was wrong on so many levels. “How much time does this last?” you asked, shivering, feeling another nauseating wave of need pulse through you. 

“I’m... I’m not sure,” he said, struggling to say each word. Like air was unknown to his lungs. Like he was fighting every instinct in his bones. 

But just the sound of his voice was enough to make another wave of excruciating pain wash through you, making you groan and wiggle against the floor. That ache in your clit intensified, pulsed painfully.

“Make it stop,” you murmured. “It hurts... so much.”

There was a second of silence until you heard the telltale sound of fabric rustling. Just the thought of Bucky naked, even an inch of skin available to your hungry eyes, made your cunt clench on nothing and you groaned in pain again. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” he said. “There’s only one way to make it stop.”

You shook your head, shivering. “No.”

Your heart stuttered as another wash of hot, molten lava scorched through your veins and this time, you sobbed, teeth clenching. 

“You can die, y/n,” Bucky whimpered and this time, his voice was right there, above you, a hand skimming across your thigh. 

You made a whimpering sound at the feel of his hand, even the slightest touch like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over your head. 

You opened your eyes and through tear-stained lashed and heavy lids, you looked back, seeing Bucky hunched over you, shirtless and sweating and with nothing but pain in those dark blue eyes of his. 

He bit his lip, meeting your eyes, and he nodded slowly. 

At this point, your entire body was shivering, sweaty, heating to the point that you thought your body would shut down. 

“Let me help,” he said, wretched, rough. 

When he applied the entire weight of his hand on your hip, it was like a lightning bolt had exploded under your skin. A moan ripped from your throat, utterly wrecked and rough and gone. 

Bucky said something but it was lost to the smoke in your head. He pulled down the rest of your suit, exposing hardened nipples to the air, but it still wasn’t cold enough. You wiggled your hips as he dragged the rest of the fabric down your body, to your legs until he was chucking off your boots and leaving you in nothing but your underwear. 

“Doll,” he rasped, pressing his fingers to your ankles, gently scraping up until he was resting both hands on the inside of your soft, plush thighs. “You’re soaked.”

You groaned, panting on the floor, feeling sticky, achy, and on fire. You pressed your hips forward, searching, searching. “Bucky, please.”

“Jesus, forgive me,” he groaned, and when you opened your eyes to meet the white lights above, he pressed a kiss to your clothed clit and you moaned salaciously.

One hand instinctively gripped at the roots of his brown hair, pulling him ever closer. The other clawed at the arm that came to rest over your tummy. 

A sharp, bruising knot formed in your tummy when he used one finger to move your thong to the side and he pressed a warm, wet kiss to your bare pussy. 

“Fuck, Bucky.” It came as a breath, like this was the first fresh, real breath you’d taken in years. 

He groaned against your skin, the vibrations dribbling up your belly, up your spine. Your toes curled as he gave his first few strokes of his tongue, long and harsh, like he was at a watering hole after days of being parched. 

“You taste like heaven, kitten,” he murmured, flattening his tongue against your clit and stroking it quickly, little flicks that sent your spine arching, your eyes closing, toes curling against his back. 

He gripped your hips in both hands, digging in to his meal, each stroke of his tongue like a spark against your clit. 

Your first orgasm wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to quench the heat, to cool the fire raging in your belly. Like a monstrous black wave, the pollen kept your senses awaken. 

“Bucky, again,” you whined, closing your thighs against his head, guiding his mouth back to your hole. He kept licking, sucking against your clit. 

Your second orgasm was like a temporary wash of relief. You smiled against each wave, hips stuttering against Bucky’s mouth. 

“It won’t be enough,” he said, voice wrecked, as he kissed up your thighs, igniting another wave of harsh, hot lava to drip from your belly into your clit. You whined. “I know,” he cooed, his eyes glazed as he hovered over you. When you met his gaze, you could see that he was fighting his own seams, that he was just as fragile and wanting and needing as you were. 

You reached between your bodies, skimming your nails down his hard chest, hearing the faint groan that left his lips. You patted down his belly, down until your hand wrapped around the impossibly hard, thick bulge in his suit pants. 

He bowed forward, sighing, moaning as you felt him out. Something like confidence, dark cunning, invaded your senses like a drug. 

“I need to be inside you so bad, y/n,” he groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your shoulder. Just the weight of his body on your chest, feeling his heat, his every breath, every tremble of his fingers as he clawed at your bare hip, your plush thighs, made you tremble with need. 

Hurriedly, he pressed away from you, pushing down his pants until his drooling, hard cock sprang free. He let it flop against your belly, groaning at the feeling, and when you met his eyes, he was nothing but a feral, hungry wolf. 

He claimed your mouth in a sudden, voracious kiss, tasting yourself on his lips as he ground into you. Delving his tongue passed your teeth, nipping at your bottom lip, breathing life into you with every stroke of his tongue against yours. 

You gripped his shaft slowly, feeling the velvety skin, stroking him in slow, languid movements of your wrist. Your other hand found his hair, pushing his mouth closer to yours, kissing him with fervour and need. His own hands cupped your head, positioned you the way he wanted. 

Then his metal fingers closed over your knee, hooking your leg over his hips, and he pulled away form your mouth in a wet, sloppy pop. He breathed, calming himself, but with you clawing at his shoulders, bringing him closer, hands stroking his dick quickly, he couldn’t stop himself. Even if he wanted to. Even if, deep down, in the dark, almost forgotten corners of his mind, he knew this was wrong, wrong, wrong - he wanted to lose himself in you. Just your taste wasn’t enough. Two of your orgasms against his lips wasn’t enough. Kissing you like he’d dreamed of doing so many times in his wet dreams - all of it wasn’t enough. 

He fell to one forearm, bringing his mouth to your ear. Your hand still slicking against him. Your mouth kissing against his neck, up his jaw. Your other hand digging nails into the hard muscle of his tricep. Your hot, wet thigh pressed against his bare hip. 

“I’m going to fuck you, y/n,” he grunted against your ear. 

You nodded, pushing your hips up, towards him. He pulled away from your stroking hand and you felt his tip press at your wet entrance. He shivered when he thrust the tip in, feeling your hole give in to him. 

You gasped as he slid in slowly. Now was when you realized just how big he was. How thick and unforgiving his cock was as he stretched your walls, impaling himself into you inch by inch. 

It was a painful stretch that made your knees tremble, gripping onto his shoulders for dear fucking life. 

“So tight,” he whispered against your ear. “Were you waiting for me, doll?”

His voice was like a sin committed in church. 

You whimpered when he pushed in completely, seating himself to the root, until every inch of him was pressed up against you. 

“Did you save this pussy for me, huh, kitten?” he rasped, pulling back and thrusting in slowly. He groaned, bowing forward. “So wet, doll, I can feel you dripping all over me.”

Who knew Bucky could be this filthy with his mouth. It made your body snap like a rubberband. 

He kissed up your throat, giving you shallow, quick strokes until he could feel your gummy walls relax and when he knew you were ready, he rutted against you like a dog gone mad. 

He gripped your hip, thrusting into you until your body was numb, your walls clenching against him, a pressure building just under your bellybutton. 

“Bucky,” you whined, sobbed, as he kept hitting that spot in you that made sparks dance along your spine.

“I can feel you, doll,” he grunted, teeth biting into your shoulder. “Come on, darlin’, you’re almost there.”

Your mouth opened in a small ‘o’, spine arching off the floor, adding to the pressure against his dick as your walls clenched impossibly tight against him, fluttering, buzzing, until your orgasm exploded through your flesh like a bomb of sparks and fireworks. 

You fell back to the floor, spine loose against the cement, your orgasm spinning through your blood as he kept rutting into you, chasing his own relief. 

You weakly grabbed onto his shoulders, pressed your face against his shoulder. “Fuck me, Bucky,” you pleaded. “Fuck me like I know you’ve always wanted to.” Your voice was so small, so wrecked from him, and it drove him crazy, drilling into you without rhythm. 

“So filthy, my doll,” he cooed, groaning when he heard you moan against his flesh. 

He fell onto you so suddenly, robbing you of air as he ground against you, chasing his own high. And after a few sloppy, shallow thrusts, you felt his cum inside you, his seed filling every inch of your gummy walls until he was dripping out of you and onto the cement. 

He breathed roughly, panting, gasping against your shoulder. And suddenly, his harsh hands became gentle on your cooling skin, stroking slowly against your waist. 

Your heart slowed, numbness filling you up like a dark, tentative wave. You were finally, finally cooling down, at peace, no more pain or ache or desire making every one of your movements excruciating. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” Bucky panted quietly, his face still hidden in your shoulder. “I never intended us to do... this.”

You shook your head. But no words formed in your mind, no coherent thought even took place as you just lay there, enjoying his weight, his heat. 

“We can’t stay here,” he said. He was so quiet, so gentle. He helped you get dressed in your soiled, cold suit. He zipped you up, did his best to smooth down your hair, tried to get as much of his cum off the floor with his boot. No use. 

When he got up and tucked himself back in his pants, tugging them over his hips, you couldn’t help the chuckle that left your lips. 

“We’re going to be in so much trouble, Bucky,” you said, almost like if you laughed about it, it wasn’t that bad, right?

He sighed, shaking his head. “Just...” he hesitated, putting his shirt back on. “I couldn’t watch you suffer like that.”

You nodded. 

“Cap will come get us,” he continued, almost reassuringly. “We’ll get some rest... shower too, and then we’ll talk about what’s next.”

You leaned against the wall, so tired, so fucked out that nothing else seemed even remotely satisfying except your bed. 

Sitting on the chilled tile floor, you shut your eyes. Letting out a shaky breath, you felt the slight tremble of your body. Your heart fell into your stomach as you thought of thousands of different possibilities to thousands of different outcomes.

Leaning further against the tub, you heard your phone pinging. Tears prickled the ends of your eyes as you felt a wave of nausea wash over you. Rapidly getting to your knees, you lifted the toilet seat up before emptying the contents of your stomach. Your previously tied up hair becoming useful, once again.

A soft knock sounded through the door. "Y/N?" Bucky's voice called. "Are you alright? Can I come in?" His voice quickly becoming filled with concern.

"No!" You shrieked, taking some toilet paper and wiping your mouth. "Please don't come in here. Everything's fine!" You spoke, flushing the toilet.

With no response from the other side, you made your way towards the sink brushing your teeth. The timer on your phone going off, signalling five minutes have passed. Taking a shaky breath, you returned to your previous spot, leaning against the bath tub.

Glancing at the test between your hands, you weren't prepared for the answer at your fingertips.

Pregnant.

Tears began welling in your eyes, before they streamed down your cheeks. Your stomach began churning again. Clasping a hand over your mouth, you attempted to muffle the sobs that began escape past your lips.

"Y/N? What's going on?" Bucky questioned. "I'm coming in."

Before you could stop him, the bathroom door opened. Taking in your disheveled appearance on the floor, his heart fell into his stomach. Dropping to his knees beside you, he pulled you in towards his warm embrace. Tucking your head under his chin, he pulled you into his lap as he occupied your previous position leaning against the tub.

Sobs wrecked through your body as you began shaking. Bucky rubbed up and down your back, cooing slightly in your ear. Time had escaped you, as your eyelids began growing heavy.

"Bubba?" Bucky questioned softly. "Lets get you something to eat."

Nodding your head slightly, you hummed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked gently. "If not, that's okay too. I figured you might want-"

"Bucky." You mumbled, leaning away from his chest looking in his eyes. "I'm pregnant." You sniffled.

"Are...Are you sure?" Bucky questioned furrowing his eyebrows together.

Lifting the pregnancy test in your hands, you showed Bucky the evidence. His jaw falling slightly, as he gazed between you and the test. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as shock still overwhelmed him.

"Lets get some food."

Nodding your head, you moved off of Buckys lap. Extending his flesh hand towards you, he gently pulled you up from the floor. Leading you into your kitchen, he began busying himself with getting food ready.

After eating in silence with Bucky, you moved to leave.

"Wait." Bucky mumbled.

Groaning, you turned to face him. "Look Bucky, I appreciate you being here with me...But i think you should go."

"Go?" He questioned furrowing his eyebrows, moving to stand.

"Please...Just, go." You spoke, holding your hands up slightly as you backed away.

Retreating into your bedroom, you made yourself into a blanket burrito closing the world out.

---

"Is there a reason why you didn't want Barnes, here with you?" Natasha questioned as she pulled into a parking space.

You had asked her to take you to the OBGYN, not wanting to go alone.

"I mean, you two are practically conjoined at the hip." She spoke, getting out of the car.

Letting out a sigh, you knew she would question why you wanted her there instead of Bucky.

"I just didn't." You shrugged, making your way into the office.

Lifting your shirt, the sonographer placed gel on your stomach, before placing the transducer probe on top of it. The sound of a rapidly beating heart filled the room. Natasha gently grabbed your hand in excitement. Glancing up at her, you thought you could see a tear or two escape her eyes.

"Congratulations!" The sonographer spoke. "It's a little too early to tell the sex...But you get to take these sonogram photos home!"

As Natasha drove you home, you couldn't take your eyes off the photos. Your mind in a disarray of thoughts, as you couldn't fathom a tiny living human beginning to form inside you.

"Hey." She spoke softly, as she pulled in front of your apartment. "We're here."

"Th...Thanks." You stuttered, quickly placing the photos back in your purse. Opening the door, you were ready to get back into your burrito.

"Y/N?" She questioned.

You hummed as you leaned in slightly.

"You should really talk to Barnes." Natasha gave you a sorrow filled smile.

Nodding your head, you gave her a closed lip smile. Letting out a sigh, you knew that Natasha was right. Bucky is the only person you wanted around right now, and you had pushed him away.

Making your way back into your apartment, you sat on the couch. Pulling out the photos, you knew what you had to do.

---

"Thanks for meeting me." You offered a fake smile. "Have a seat." You motioned to the unoccupied chair before you.

"Well, I must say." Y/Ex/N, gave you a toothy grin. "I was surprised when you called, and even more taken back when you said you wanted to meet." He smirked.

"Uh huh." You responded, dropping your gaze to your hands as you began picking at the skin around your nail bed. An anxious habit you had developed.

"So, what is it that you want to talk about?" He flashed you his infamous million dollar smile.

"Y/Ex/N..." Letting out a sigh, you needed to feel the relief that would come from your confession. "I'm pregnant." You blurted.

His face faltered. "That's impossible." He spat.

"Well...It happened." You shrugged keeping your gaze upon your fingers.

"That's not my baby." Y/Ex/N shrugged, crossing arms. "You must've cheated on me."

Glancing up, your jaw fell slack as your eyes widened. "I-"

"Whatever." He spoke, pushing his chair back readying himself to leave.

Tears began welling in your eyes as you were face to face with your worst nightmare.

Before you knew it, you had driven to a familiar neighborhood. Racing up the stairs to an apartment that felt as if it were your second home.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you knocked on the door.

Send me Feedback Here

Join my Taglist Here

Request a Part Two (Be sure to mention the title) Here

Send me a Request Here

Taglist:

You padded over to the bed and got under the covers, aware that Bucky was watching you with an intense, guarded glare. 

Once you were settled in, you scooted closer, watching his shoulders tense, fingers whiteknuckling the phone. “Can I lay my head on your chest?” you asked, looking up at him. 

His jaw set, lips pinched. Then he nodded, opening up his left arm so that you could comfortably settled into his embrace. You slowly lay your head where his heart beat, feeling the heat of his skin, laying your palm onto his stomach. 

He set the phone down. “Good day?” he asked, his voice strained. 

“Yes.” You smiled. “You?”

“Y-yeah.”

Metal fingers gripped your shoulder when you wrapped your entire arm around his middle. “Is this okay?” you whispered.

Silence. Then, slowly, “Yes.”

You stayed like that for a while, listening to his heart and his breathing. He was nervous. His skin was boiling and his heart was bashing against his rib cage. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Your head raised from his chest, surprised that he had been the one to ask. Kisses mostly came from you, and they were short and very prude. He was always so scared to lose control with you. 

His flesh hand slowly crept onto your cheek, shivers racing down your spine. He brought his lips to yours in a chaste, soft kiss. Eyes closed, you leaned in, grasping his wrist in your hand. He kissed you softly, moving his lips minimally, as if he was afraid to do more. 

But you wanted more. You always did, especially when it came to kissing. You got onto your knees, hips shifting under the covers, and slowly straddled his waist, all while keeping his mouth on yours. 

His metal hand shot up to your hip, breaking from the kiss, to stare up at you with pink on his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted. “I’ll get off.”

But he held you there, chest heaving. “This is okay,” he mumbled. 

You smiled, relieved you hadn’t pushed over the limit. You were so scared to do something one day that would be too much.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you down until you were pressed flat against him, cheek on his heart again. Warmth seeped into you, relief and the buzz of butterflies scattering along your flesh.