ready to comply

[semi_stable]

[cw: descriptions of a panic attack, mentions of PTSD]


Things have been going very well for Bucky as of late, so it's no real surprise when he's suddenly knocked on his ass again. That's how it goes, after all. That's his story. That's how it always goes.

This time, all he's doing is walking down the street. He's smiling, almost even laughing, sipping at an iced coffee. He's talking with a friend, gesturing with his prosthetic hand, ungloved and visible to anyone who looks at him, and anyone who did wouldn't even be able to tell how broken he is.

Because he is broken. He always will be in some way or another. His brain was taken apart and put back together over and over again, scrambled and reformed, and he'll never be healed from that, not completely. Not to mention all the trauma and abuse, decades of it, and he can have a few good months but he'll never be totally free.

This is proven to him as he's walking past some sort of street fair out in front of his building. It's noisy, with people milling about and several different radios tuned to different stations drowning each other out. They suddenly all go quiet, music and talking replaced with an eerie, quiet static.

Longing.

The word makes Bucky go still, face draining of color. It's a low, commanding male voice speaking in Russian, and Bucky feels a little like he might throw up.

Rusted.

It's coming from every radio, even one from a car passing by, windows rolled down to take advantage of the nice day. It's coming from everywhere and Bucky's coffee falls from his hand, plastic cracking as it breaks against the pavement. "No."

Furnace.

"No, no, no, please," Bucky pleads in Russian, reaching up to put his hands over his ears. It's so unexpected to hear his trigger words that he forgets for a moment that he's supposed to have been cured of them, rewired during his time in Wakanda. But then he remembers, and it doesn't help. Whoever is behind this place has proven how powerful they are, and who's to say that they didn't undo that, too?

Daybreak.

It's getting louder now, more forceful, and Bucky lets out a panicked shout as he stumbles backwards, breathing heavily and shaking his head. He's flooded so suddenly with adrenaline, like ice water being dumped over his head, and he can hear his heart beating. Air gets stuck in his chest and he can't breathe, and while he recognizes the signs of a panic attack, he can't seem to make it stop. He's too terrified of what might be about to happen to do anything but panic.

Seventeen.

"No, no, not again," he chokes out, turning to run into the lobby of his building to try and get away from it, only to find that they're playing in there too, pumping tinnily out of a speaker in the corner. He chokes out a sob and sinks to the floor, pushing himself back into a corner and covering his ears. Someone follows after him and Bucky holds out his hand. "Stop! Stay back."

Benign.

There are four more. Only four more words until Bucky finds out of the switch in his brain will be flipped, if he'll climb to his feet and stand at attention. Four more words until this city finds out if the Winter Soldier is ready to comply.





[Help him. Have your pup be the person he was walking with and/or the one who finds him in the lobby. Despite his fears, the trigger words will not do anything because he's still cured, but he's still going through one hell of a PTSD episode.]

Comments

[the_variant]

There are times when the man she had first met and the man she's with now don't entirely line up. It isn't that Bucky ever appeared to be a prude, at least in part because she hadn't much thought of it, but he'd seemed buttoned up in a lot of ways. Closed off.

Sylvie had understood that. She'd responded to it.

Now they're here together, they've said things to one another she never imagined they would, and the way he touches her, the way he looks at her, it's as if she's unlocked something in him. She knows he's unlocked something in her.

She arches into his touch, her hips rolling, grinding against him. With one hand, she holds onto his thigh behind her body, supporting her weight where he's told her to sit up, and the other she buries in his hair as they kiss again. His hand is so hot between them and she moans, pressing herself into his palm.

[semi_stable]

In some ways, Sylvie literally brought a part of him back to life. It was a part of him that he had thought was gone forever. He wasn't sure that he'd ever feel passion again, or the hungry desire to feel another body against his own. He thought that his ability for intimacy was gone.

But then he danced with Sylvie one night, and she revived him, breathed life back into him. She made him feel more human again, and since that night, his connection to her has only grown. He knows what it feels like to be passionate again, and he credits that, at least in part, to her.

In one easy move, Bucky rolls them under so that Sylvie is the one on her back, so she gets to see the sea of stars splayed out overhead, and Bucky kisses her mouth again, her neck, her shoulder, and then between her breasts. He bites gently at the side of one and then takes her nipple between his teeth as he pulls open her jeans, sucking hard as he shoves her pants and underwear down over her hips.

After one more noisy suck, he lets her breast fall from his mouth and mouths his way down her stomach as he tugs off her boots, and then her socks, grunting impatiently before finally getting her jeans off and tugging her legs open so he can fit between them.

"Enjoy the view," Bucky says with a flirty grin, winking at her while pointing up at the sky, and then he ducks his head to press his mouth between her legs, dragging his tongue eagerly up through the core of her.

[the_variant]

"I am," she promises, not looking at the sky at all, instead looking at Bucky, at the grin, the wink, the way he looks as he ducks between her legs and licks at her, warm and soft against her clit.

After a moment, though, she does look up at the sky, at the way the stars look in the dark, and it is beautiful. Despite her life, the way she was always running from something, she had often taken time to look at the apocalypse in which she was living. Appreciating the world that was hurtling toward its end.

Sometimes the end is more beautiful than all the rest.

"Shit," she breathes when Bucky's tongue does something unexpected and she lifts her leg, sliding her calf over his shoulder to press closer.

[semi_stable]

Even up here, technically out in the open and with all the desire he feels for her, Bucky feels no need to rush. He relishes in being able to bring Sylvie pleasure like this, to taste her on his tongue as she writhes up against his face.

She lays her leg over his shoulder like she's settling in and it makes Bucky ache with fondness and arousal. He growls hungrily against her as he wraps his arms around her thighs, pulling her in closer. His tongue presses into her, fucking in and out before sliding up over her clit, flicking against it and pulling it between his lips and sucking.

Bucky wants to fuck her so badly, but he won't do it until she comes against his tongue first, preferably yelling his name up at the stars.

[the_variant]

If she wanted, she could lie here like this for ages. Bucky would do it, too, he would use his mouth and his fingers on her, teasing her to the edge and then bringing her back, over and over. There's no rush, no impatience, no need for this to be over.

They can just be. Together. A new experience for the both of them and one she means not to take for granted.

"Fingers, darling," she requests after a moment, sweat beading on her skin, her breath quickening. Her fingers thread through his hair and she pulls, just a little, grinning down at Bucky between her legs.

[semi_stable]

Sylvie tastes unreasonably good. She’s sweet on his tongue and Bucky doesn’t know if that’s because she’s an Asgardian or a literal goddess or just because he loves her, but he could lick at her until she’s a quivering mess, until she has to beg him to stop, until his jaw aches, and never tire of it.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says in a raspy voice, smirking fondly at her easy request. The tug at his hair makes his cock twitch, and he looks up at her face as he slides two metal fingers into her body, dropping his gaze to watch her pink cunt part around black metal. The sight makes him shudder with arousal, breath catching as he leans down to close his mouth over her swollen clit, flicking his tongue over it as he flexes hard enough to make his fingers buzz inside of her.

“How many times do you think I could make you come?” He pants out, lifting his head to lick his lips. His beard is drenched in her, overwhelming him with her scent, and he presses his fingers in a little harder, a little faster, sliding his other hand under her ass to lift her hips up, dragging her toward his mouth so he can lick around his buzzing fingers.

[the_variant]

Over the months, something has shifted in Bucky. She remembers the first night, the passion with which they'd had each other, but the hesitation when he had touched her with his metal arm. And now he's here, his fingers inside of her without hesitation, the fine vibrating rippling out from her core as she arches against his mouth.

He touches her now without worrying what she might think. Without thinking he might hurt her. She likes this shift.

"Oh, I don't know, how many points are you looking for?" she asks with a breathless laugh, nearly at the edge already. She can feel how wet she's made him, his lips and skin and beard against her, and that makes her shiver with pleasure, too, before suddenly, almost without warning, she's coming against his mouth and around his fingers. She's shaking with it, then there's a rush of fluid, more than usual, the sensation like nothing she's felt before.

[semi_stable]

“I’m just doing it for the love of the game,” Bucky murmurs in a rough voice, barely pulling back enough to be heard before diving in again. When her orgasm hits, it’s strong enough that it seems to surprise them both. Bucky feels a rush of fluid against his mouth, tastes it on his tongue, hears it dripping onto the duvet below. It’s messy and obscene and Bucky is hard enough to pound nails, awed and proud of all the things he can do to her body.

He lifts his head to look at her, eyes dark as he licks his lips, and he slides his fingers out of her so he can put his hands high on her inner thighs and spread them open wide, palms gliding against her skin thanks to how slick she’s made everything. Her cunt is pink and swollen, gleaming in the silvery twilight, and Bucky feels such a rush at doing this in a somewhat public place, outside with the cool air on their skin.

“But I do think that should get me some bonus points,” he says huskily, grinning as he slides his fingers up and down her slit. She shivers at the slightest touch and Bucky takes a deep breath as he keeps his metal hand on her inner thigh and touches her with the other, covering her cunt with his hand almost possessively. She doesn’t belong to him, never could even if he wanted her to, but in this moment, she feels like she’s all his, like he’d kill anyone who came close.

Bucky’s gaze drops from her face to between her legs again, and he slides his hand down below her cunt, rubbing the tip of his middle finger absurd the tight clench of her asshole. It relaxes for him and Bucky winks at her before ducking his head again and licking at the muscle. The obscenity of it makes him groan and he licks more purposefully, sucking at the rim of muscle before sliding his middle finger slowly into her ass. It sinks in easily thanks to the slick from her own body, and he slowly fucks it in and out as he covers her clit with his mouth again, sucking almost leisurely.

He’d do this all night, if she let him.

[the_variant]

Before she's even recovered, Bucky's mouth is on her again, and Sylvie shivers deeply with it, the sensitivity of her body nearly overwhelming and she gasps. There have been men and women -- and others -- in her life who have mere distractions, nothing more than a way to pass time, and the way they had pleasured here had made that clear enough. They were never as focused on her as Bucky is now.

She's had plenty of good sex, but very rarely like this.

Then he's licking at her asshole, sliding his finger into her, and her mouth falls open in another shuddering gasp.

"Bonus points," she agrees with a breathless moan, her fingers curling into his hair again. She's holding onto him tightly, wrapping one leg around Bucky to pull him against her, closer.

[semi_stable]

Bucky keeps using his mouth on her, keeps moving his finger in and out of her ass, until she tenses up again, on the verge of another orgasm. It’s only then that he tears himself away, wiping his wet face with his forearm before quickly opening his jeans and pushing them down to his knees along with his underwear.

He’s too inpatient too get all the way undressed, in too much of a hurry to do anything but cover Sylvie’s body with his own, grabbing under her thigh to tug her closer, spreading her legs wider as he positions himself between them.

“You taste so fucking good,” he pants out, leaning down to give her a messy kiss as if to try and prove her point. He licks at her tongue as he fists his cock and presses the head against her slick cunt. His hips snap forward and he buries his cock inside of her with one smooth thrust, whimpering against her mouth as he plants one hand into the ground next to her head. “You feel even better.”

[the_variant]

There are times when Sylvie is very aware of the time Bucky is from, the world he was born in, the values he was taught. Then there are times like this, when he lets go completely, when he seems to forget himself, and she loves that, for some reason, she gets to be a part of it.

For some reason, he chose her.

"Fuck," she says as he pushes inside of her and she braces herself on the ground, using her elbow to lift herself up so she can meet him. Their mouths clash, tongues and lips and she can taste herself on him, moaning with the sensation of it. Bucky feels like he's absolutely everywhere.

She gets one arm around him, nails pressing into his skin beneath his shirt, and it's only now she realizes he's still mostly dressed. They're too desperate, too hungry for each other and she bites down lightly on his lower lip, tugging.

[semi_stable]

This isn’t how Bucky intended for this to go. He expected something gentler, considering what they had just gone through, something softer.

But they are not soft people, are they?

Sylvie seems to have unlocked something in Bucky during their first encounter, some primal thing that, before her, he always kept at bay. Or maybe it wasn’t there at all when he was young and normal. Maybe it’s something that’s been building since his life was stolen from him.

Whatever it is, it feels like freedom. With Sylvie, Bucky doesn’t have to hold himself back. He can let go entirely, give into every animal instinct and Sylvie not only tolerates it, but responds in kind. She bites and scratches at him and he pounds into her with deep, hard thrusts, groaning against her mouth.

Her hands go under his shirt, nails leaving scratches that sting, and he pulls away from her mouth only long enough to rip his shirt over his head one-handed, leaving the material bunched around his other hand where it’s still planted into the ground. His dog tags fall and land in the valley between her breasts, bouncing in time with them as he fucks her, and Bucky buries his face in the curve of her neck, biting hard enough to leave behind an indent of his teeth.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he pants out, grunting as he adjusts the angle of his hips to make sure he’s hitting just the right spot inside of her, over and over again. “I love you so fucking much, Sylvie.”

[the_variant]

Why?

She doesn’t ask it. She wouldn’t, even if he wasn’t fucking her like this, each hard snap of his hips making her body clench and roil with pleasure. It’s too much, too vulnerable, and she can’t ask it. Why either of them love her is utterly beyond her, but she’s selfish and she’ll take it and she’ll destroy anyone who tries to take it away from her.

His teeth press into her skin hard enough to hurt and she moans, wanting to encourage him. She’ll take his marks, any he wants to leave on her.

“I love you.”

The words still feel strange, as if her mouth isn’t make to shape them. But she says them anyway, whispers them, clinging to Bucky and letting him entirely take the lead.