Oneshots

Pillow thumping : Bucky Fantasies about reader

It had been the better part of a year since Bucky had tried to reintegrate back into regular society. He knew a completely normal life was still out of the question and longed for the facade of normalcy instead.
He would hide his prosthetic and, more often than not, his face. Anything to cling to the shadows and out of anyone's wandering gaze. Yet, through the darkness with which he still lingered around him, there was a strange blooming of light that would often cut through it.

Even upon your first meeting with him, he gave off his signature gloomy atmosphere. Yet, this didn't deter you from shaking his hand and welcoming him as a new neighbor to the apartment building. It would be an encounter that could linger on in his mind for many days afterwards, until the next chance he had to bump into you.
He would only see you in passing, but each time you graced him with a bright and warm smile, as well as the occasional small talk to catch up. It was one of the few things he looked forward to each day.

He could still reminisce about the time just last week when you bumped into one another at the mailboxes downstairs. He looked just as grim as ever, with a dim and gray look in his eyes and his shaggy hair almost leaning over his face to hide it. But, you were still cheerful and inviting, waving to him as he left the elevator and bidding him a good morning.

He watches as you preen at the smile and wave you receive back, knowing that you made his day just a little better.
It made his heart pang uncomfortably as you tried to make small talk with him before wishing him a good day and trotting off to your apartment. The beam of your smile and the swing of your body as you walk past make a warm feeling bloom in his stomach, and his cock stirs slightly.

You make him feel so welcome. Yet, in a darker sense, some days he also feels like a predatory dog being nuzzled by a sweet, fluffy rabbit. One wrong move, and you could be clamped tightly between his teeth.
He didn't want to hurt you, but he longed to be closer. He didn't want to sully something so sweet and soft with his vile venom, and has often relieved his frustrations manually instead of darkening your doorway with an unsavory request.

He'll have his cock in his hand, picturing your sweet pink-magenta lips wrapped tightly around him. It's a slippery, sweet suck as he envisions you drinking him down until the tip hits the back of your throat.
He could almost hear your sweet but sinister praises leave your dirtied lips as you used your sugary demeanor to wind him up just to make him pop in your delicate little hands, painting your fingers in his salty-sticky seed. Only to lick it away with your pretty pink tongue. It was a torturous fantasy that had him shuttering into his hand as he spilled out onto his own sheets.

Tonight would be the worst of it, as this time he had been running back into the building under a heavy blanket of rain. He had been caught up in the storm as he was going on an evening walk to help clear his head.
He stepped into the elevator, eager only to go back to his apartment so he could dry off. Just as the doors were about to close entirely, a little hand shot through and stopped them. It was you, just as wet as he was, if not more, stepping in beside him as the elevator finally closed.
He hoped you wouldn't catch sight of the ridges of his metal appendage from under his wet sleeve, forgetting momentarily that the design was seamless and unnoticeable.
You must not have been nearly as fast as he was, as you were practically soaked to the bone. Your shirt clung to your body along with your lacy bra, which was rendered almost see-through. You shook beside him as the cold water chilled your skin.

"Some weather we're having, am I right?" You spoke with a jovial laugh as you addressed the notoriously somber man.
He couldn't help but chuckle along before answering, "It's certainly one hell of a storm."

"Can't wait to get home and get out of these wet clothes." You turned towards the number pad to push the floor number you needed, as the elevator was already ascending. He responded with a hum, not wanting to visualize you stripping away your soggy jeans and t-shirt right beside him.

The ride up grew quiet not long after and somehow felt longer and longer as each floor lit up before it reached his. He gave you a low "goodbye" which you met with a cheerful "have a good day..er better day, I guess," before the doors closed and the elevator stole you away from him.
He trudged back to his apartment in wet boots as a wave of heat and frustration churned in his guts. He slammed the door behind him before gripping the counter to steady himself. The image of your wet body burns itself into his memory, searing it like a branding iron pressed to his skin.

He fights the urge, not wanting to furiously rub one out over your misfortune in the rain. It wasn't your fault that it had started to storm and that it had gotten you all wet. It felt shameful, almost like he was taking advantage of your kind nature and sweet beauty for his own pleasure.

Instead, he started peeling out of his wet clothes as he approached the bathroom, choosing to take a hot shower to clear his head. He turns the water on high, watching as it makes the mirror fog over before stepping in and letting it nearly boil his skin, so he can better fight the urge to fuck his hand as if it were your rain-stained face. It helps, but only a little.
When he's finished, he shuts the water off, steps out, and drags the towel over his scared and chiseled skin to dry himself.

His mind was still plagued by the sight of that shirt clinging to your frame, making his cock bob against his stomach. He ignores it and tries his best to just go to bed. Yet, sleep doesn't come, leaving him to stare at the wall on his side as he dug his nails into the sheets, gripping a pillow between his thighs to alleviate some of his need.
His hips started to move on their own. He hadn't bothered with any clothes, lying naked without a blanket to better cook his skin from both his shower and his many thoughts of you. So as he turned onto his belly, his bare cock was pressed to the soft fabric as he dug the hard member into it with a subtle push of his hips.

He couldn't help but picture you beneath him as he ground himself hard against the pillow. The image of your squirming body and that sweet face contorted in pleasure below him had him moving faster as he shut his eyes tight.
It wasn't fabric he wanted, nor his fist. It was you, and your soft pink core wrapped around him. He wanted to see how he could make you bloom around his cock as he surrounded himself with your soft warm skin.

His hips shuttered and shook as he vigorously fucked the pillow until his cock sputtered against the fabric and a string of milky white seed spurted out and stained the dark blue pillowcase.

He felt so dirty, so vile, and with his eyes still tightly shut he could hear you giggling at him at the back of his mind. Almost mocking him for self-indulgence, making his cock throb. A little more cum dribbles out from his swollen tip, coupled with a gruff "Oh God" escaping past his tightly clenched teeth.