#ex!bucky barnes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marvelouslizzie · 6 months

Text

Why Are You Doing This To Me?

summary: Your ex-boyfriend Bucky Barnes wrote two songs about (for) you and you don’t know what to do.

pairing: Ex!Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

warnings: Angst, a past failed relationship, pettiness, jealousy, anger, a lot of emotions, no mention of y/n.

word count: 2.3K

A/N: I have been away for a while because I was busy learning another language aka Dutch. I still am but at least I am done with my big exam. As soon as I was done with it, I found myself writing again.

This is a random idea that just popped into my head while listening to music and taking a walk. Pure angst for some reason. Usually, I go for smutty ideas but bear with me.

>> indicates incoming messages and << indicates outgoing messages in this story.

Thank you @notafunkiller for proofreading and editing this so fast ❤️

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Keep reading tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

>> Hey! I know you don’t want to hear anything about Bucky, but I think you should check these out. I think he wrote these songs for you.

Two links from Spotify follow the text you received from one of your best friends, and you stare for a while, trying to decide what to do. You really don’t want to hear his voice. Not because you don’t like his singing or his songs, but you wanted to get back on your feet. It would be impossible if you kept listening to his songs. Besides, hearing his voice has always softened you. And your best friend knows this. She knows a lot about your relationship, how everything went down, and how you two eventually broke up. If she didn't think you should listen to these songs, she wouldn't be sending you these links, right?

You take a deep breath and click on the first link. The song starts to play, and you notice the soft vibe right away. It’s not particularly Bucky’s style. He sounds like he’s in pain but he's singing with such clarity that surprises you.

He talks about how much he regrets the things he didn’t do when he was with you. How he misses you so much every day. How much he wants to call you, but he’s afraid that you won’t pick up the phone or worse, you will talk to him like a stranger. He says he always knew how precious you were, yet he took you for granted.

The lyrics flow flawlessly. It sounds like poetry to your ears. The way he expressed himself so beautifully… You can’t believe he wrote such a heartfelt song about you, and it’s not even his style. He’s a freaking rockstar. He usually writes about sex, rock and roll, and drugs. Not feelings. Then the song finally reaches the chorus and his words make you freeze.

“You are the love of my love.”

Did he really just say that? Did he just call you the love of his life? You feel this rush of emotions, and it’s hard to distinguish what you are actually feeling. It makes it harder to think, harder to focus on anything else other than the fact that this song is for you. That’s when you notice the name of the song. It’s the Love of My Life.

Suddenly, you start to feel angry. Every other emotion just takes a backseat. You hate him. So fucking much! Why is he always like this? Saying everything a little too late. Was it so hard for him to tell you this when you wanted to find just one reason to stay with him? You begged him to communicate with you maybe a million times. He always said it was not easy for him to put his feelings into words. Good or bad. It didn’t matter. He always struggled with his emotions. You tried your best. You tried to show him that he could trust you, that you would always be there for him, but it didn’t matter in the end. You felt like you were the only one trying to make this relationship work.

That’s when you decided to give up. It felt like he just didn’t care enough. He didn’t put any effort into changing things or making you feel like you weren’t just beating a dead horse.

You hoisted the white flag and moved on with your life. That’s when he decides to put whatever he feels into words. Instead of talking to you, he makes a song about it. Then he puts it out into the world.

What a fucking asshole!

It takes you a while to realize the song is over as the silence fills the room. As much as you hate how he chose to do this, the silence disturbs you. It might be a little too late, but you still want to hear what he has to say. Your own rules about not listening to any of his songs instantly go out the window.

You open the messaging app and click on the second link. This one sounds a little bit more like his usual style. The name of the song though, instantly catches your attention this time. It’s one of the nicknames he used often for you.

He starts the song by saying that he knows how selfish he is. That he has no right to feel this way, but he just saw you with someone else and he hated how it made him feel. He talks about how jealous he is. How he can’t help but imagine you in that guy’s arms. Then he realized you might call him baby, just like you used to call him. Then he continues by begging you not to call him baby, how he wants you to save that pet name for him even though he’s not in your life anymore.

There are so many details throughout the song that indicate he’s talking about you, there is no mistaking. He calls you by your nickname, saying how he loves the way you talk passionately about your interests, how compassionate you are, and how much effort you put into maintaining your relationship but he was too stupid and pathetic to appreciate them.

Every word that comes out of his mouth makes you even angrier. How dare he? How dare he write a song like this for you? After everything you have been through, after all the effort you put into your relationship, after every heartbreak… He realizes how much he values you just because he saw you with someone else.

Selfish bastard!

He has no right to put these words out there. He has no right to feel jealous. You are not his anymore. You can call someone else baby if that’s what you want. How dare he try to dictate to you like this? It makes you wanna call someone up and go out on another date and call him baby, just in spite.

The problem is, it’s just your stubborn nature talking. Before this song, you didn’t even think about calling someone else baby. You didn’t feel like it. Subconsciously, you were reserving that pet name for him. And that fucker knew it. He just knew it!

You exhale deeply, trying to calm yourself down. The song is over, but you can still hear him singing in your head. The song is so beautiful. Petty but so fucking beautiful. He sounds like he poured his heart out without caring how vulnerable it makes him look.

Another deep breath, you try to understand which date he is talking about. You have been on a couple of dates since you two broke up. You were so dedicated to moving on. You didn’t care if it would hurt him. Because he didn’t care about how much he hurt you all those times you tried your hardest to make things work. So you went out with a couple of gentlemen. Some of them were decent, and some of them were downright horrible. Dating is just as tedious as you remembered. A lot of assholes out there who don’t care who they are hurting. You didn’t get hurt, though. You didn't care enough about any of them to give them the power to hurt you.

Then it finally hits you. He’s talking about your date with that motherfucking movie star! That one was big news for a while. You got photographed two, maybe three times together.

You really looked like you were having fun in those photos. Truthfully, you were, he was such a funny guy. He knew how to make fun of himself. You were just so tired of pretentious asses. It was refreshing. That’s why you said yes to a second and a third date. Then he was off to a European country to shoot his next movie. You had a fun and it was more than enough for you.

You precisely remember that tabloids started to talk about how perfect you two were for each other. God, that must have gotten under his skin. You can’t help but laugh. He’s so predictable. He just couldn’t bear to see you with someone else, but can you blame him?

You remember seeing something similar about him, but in that case, he wasn’t on a date with the girl. They were just working together for some lame-ass project he would normally despise. Maybe he was trying to keep himself busy, who knows? You remember so vividly how she was looking at him like she wanted to eat him up. As if that wasn’t enough, she kept praising him, calling him the best rockstar of the century just to get in his pants. You have no idea if it worked or not, but it was enough to make you feel jealous. So can you blame him for feeling the same?

It just makes you realize you want to listen to those songs again. It’s maybe too little too late but you still want to hear him. You wanted him to talk about his feelings for such a long time and he’s finally doing it. Through a song but still, he’s doing it. It isn’t exactly communicating because communication must be two-sided, right? That’s what was missing in your relationship. You were talking, pleading, trying while he was keeping everything in. You feel like the roles are reversed. Now he’s the one talking, pleading, and trying, and you just don’t know what to do. How the tables have turned.

The second time around, you notice other details you missed the first time. Like peaceful walks you took together whenever you had the time or how you always used fake names when you two traveled together. You can’t help but miss those days. Even though you had problems, being with him always felt so safe and peaceful. You have no idea how he managed to make you feel that way. Maybe that’s why it took you so long to end the relationship. You still miss the way you felt back then. As if you two could overcome anything together, yet you couldn’t. Because you didn’t work together. You were alone, struggling to make him talk.

Then he talks about how he still speaks to your friends, and that makes him miss you even more. That part surprises you because none of your friends mentioned that they were still seeing Bucky. Is that because you didn’t let them ever talk about him? You feared if you let yourself talk or think about him, you would go back to the point zero.

He ends the song saying he doesn't want you to be a distant memory, and this sticks with you. Do you want him to be a distant memory?

The second time you listen, you notice how desperate he sounds. The way he pleads doesn’t anger you anymore. You find something you feel in his words. Your own fears, your own selfishness and oh, how much you miss him. You didn’t let yourself admit that you miss him. You thought acting like he never existed, he was never a part of your life would make everything easier and it did. Just for a while. Lately, it was just a burden. You tried so hard to keep everything inside. Just like he did. You are still trying to do it… to act logically, not emotionally. Does it mean you are making the same mistake he did? Shutting yourself down, not talking about your feelings. Is it the solution or is it a part of the mistake? You can’t tell anymore. You just know that your heart is aching. The sound of his voice makes you want to cry.

God, you hate him so much!

How could he do this to you after all this time?

Is it that easy to get under your skin or was he always there?

You feel like you are about to explode because of all the emotions you are going through. On one hand, Bucky communicating with you is everything you wanted. On the other hand, isn’t it too late? And why did he write not one but two songs about you? Declaring his love to the world…

You repeat that last bit in your head. He’s declaring his love to the world.

He’s no longer afraid to talk about his emotions. He wants you to hear them, millions of other people are just the bonus. He’s not afraid to show how fucking miserable he feels. He just wants you back.

He’s doing his bit in communicating, but unless you don’t do something about it, it won’t matter. It will be another attempt in vain. You aren’t sure if you want to repeat the same pattern. You notice the song is over when your phone chimes. It’s your best friend again.

>> Did you listen?

<< Yeah.

>> How are you feeling?

<< Confused.

<< Are you still talking to him?

>> Yeah we all are.

<< Why didn’t you tell me that?

>> You said you didn’t wanna hear anything about him and we just respected your decision.

Just like you thought. You can’t blame them. Anytime someone mentioned anything remotely related to Bucky, you either changed the subject or found a reason to leave. So you can’t help but wonder…

<< How is he doing?

>> Not great. He misses you.

<< I miss him too.

>> Are you gonna call him?

You look at the message for a long minute. Are you gonna call him? That’s the question. Maybe you should. Maybe you shouldn’t. Both of the options sound equally wrong. You have no idea what to do.

<< I don’t know what to do.

>> Just give him a call. He’s the love of your life.

You have no idea how long you have looked at that text. Maybe for a couple of minutes, maybe for an hour.

He’s the love of your life.

He’s a bastard, but he really is the love of your life.

And you are the love of his life.

Where do you go from here? You look at your phone once again. You finally know what to do.

806 notes · View notes

georgiapeach30513 · 1 year

Text

Keys in Your Ignition, Part 24

Summary: Mr. & Mrs. Steve Rogers’ wedding

Pairings: Hayden Everett X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, PIV sex, unprotected sex, sex in public, a bit of a breeding kink, conversations with Bucky, mentions of a toxic environment, mentions of abuse, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of therapy, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.1K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Steve,” you say softly as you open the door to the groomsman’s suite. You look around the room, partially concerned that Bucky was going to be there, and mostly because you needed a moment with your brother. He was making a huge change, and it was all for the better.

“It’s just me. He hasn’t arrived.”

“I,” you shake your head, walking in quickly. “I just wanted some time with just you, while we’re both single,” he lifts your hand, running his finger over your ring, and you fight back your tears. “You like my dress?”

“I like your ring better,” you take a deep breath, and exhale quickly. “You’re nerdy little fiancé asked me for permission to marry you,” you wipe your eyes, and start to ask him to stop. “He was so happy. Came to the apartment after he bought the ring. You were upstairs sleeping. He showed it to me.”

“Steven! This is your day, don’t make this about me,” you give him a little pat, and wave your hands on your face. “My makeup is finished and paid for, stop trying to mess this up.”

“I’m proud of you, Doll. I know now that the MC for you wasn’t a good situation, and that’s putting it lightly. I should have known that the girls that I was using as flesh that someone was doing that to you,” you bite at your lip, and look towards the floor, “We broke the cycle. And you’re doing so much better than me. You’re in school, you’re basically raising a daughter, you’ve got a house that you’re turning into a home, you’ve got a dog, and finance that has a practice, and you’re going to be an amazing wife, mother, and soon accountant.”

“Steve! Stop,” he pulls you into his body, holding you tightly. His hands running up and down your back.

“I’m so proud of us, Doll. I didn’t invite them to make you uncomfortable.”

“I know. Things were different with you and them.”

He pulls you back, his eyes scanning over your face, “You and Hayden can leave anytime that you want to. I know you’re going to have Sailor for the rest of the weekend, but don’t feel like you have to stay.”

“Ugh,” you hit him a bit hard on his arm, “I won’t be leaving, you’re my brother, not theirs. I’m happy and okay. If anyone’s leaving it will be the MC.”

“And if there’s an argument.”

“There will not be.”

“I’m just saying. Tulip doesn’t like Sailor around that, okay? I know you will be fine, but you’re in charge of the baby. And,” you give him a nod, whispering out a thank you. “Alright, now get out of here. Go help Tulip with Sailor, and I’ll see you in a few.”

You take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself when you spot your handsome fiancé. Looking every bit like a dream, and your goodest boy with his bow tie on. He walks up to you, dipping you down for a playful kiss. Pulling away to giggle at each other, while Bucky turns to go back the way he came.

He had told himself that he would talk to you, but he couldn’t do it right now. He looks at the wall in front of him, hoping that you wouldn’t venture down this way, thinking of him as a coward. He toes the ground a moment before, deciding he needed to go see Steve. His chance to talk to you was already gone, and you were nowhere to be found.

Hayden pulls you into a bathroom, and starts pulling towels over to you. Lifting you up to rest on the counter while he dabs at your tears, “What did Steve say to you?” You shake your head, but tap on your knee, needing a bit of Doodle’s warmth. He lays his head on your knee, and you pet down his nose gently. “Doll face, what did he say?”

“You asked him for permission to marry me?”

“Well, yeah. He’s the only family you have left. Ah! Stop crying,” he pats your eyes dry, and leans to give you a sweet kiss, “Baby, please stop.”

“It’s such happy tears though. You gave me as traditional a proposal as you could. It’s one of my favorite things about you, you understand what I need without me telling you.”

“Because I love you, stupid,” he places his hands on either side of your body, and Doodle groans. Standing up, only to turn his body away from his parents. Placing his hand on the back of your head, he gives you a passionate kiss. The moment your lips touch, your tongues intertwine with each other. Tasting the beer that lingers in his mouth only makes you want more.

You pull at the hem of your skirt, spreading your thighs further apart, and he plants himself in between. His hand drops Doodle’s leash, and the dog walks further away. His back still towards you. Hayden’s hand snakes up your thigh, pushing aside the gusset of your panties, “You’re wearing string.”

“Shut up,” you pull him back to you by his tie as two fingers push past your entrance, and you moan into his mouth. Hands going to his pants, and you undo his belt. Undoing his button, before you pull him out. With your hand tight around his cock, you lean back on the counter. Body pressed against the mirror, as Hayden pushes aside your string.

He sinks into your warmth quickly, and Doodle walks over to the other end of the bathroom. Groaning, but never looking at you, “Trained him well,” Hayden whispers, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Shh, just fuck me,” you pant out. Your hands gripping his ass, pushing him balls deep into your wet heat.

“I am, stupid,” you giggle on his lips, and he races to finish quickly. “People will know you're gone.”

“Then finish me,” Hayden growls, lifting you off the counter. Jamming his hips up into you while you whimper on him. “God, you look handsome in a suit.”

“And you look beautiful on my cock. Too bad I can’t have my cum leaking down your leg. You gotta look presentable,” he rolls his eyes, crashing his lips back into you, “But we’ll have a baby for a few days, and soon,” his hand presses up against your stomach, and you have to bring him back to your mouth. Letting him muffle all your sweet sounds as your orgasm rushes into your core. “Fuck,” he whispers on you, spurting into your cunt.

“Alright, down boy. I gotta clean myself up.”

“You’re so dirty,” Hayden bites at your neck, lifting you off of him, and you both go to a toilet stall.

“And you’re so horny.”

“You were the one lifting your dress up. And wearing strings. What was I supposed to do?” He doesn’t see you smiling, and giggling, “Man, I just got a quickie at my fiancé’s brother’s wedding. That was amazing,” Doodle groans again, his feet pawing at Hayden’s door. “I’m sorry Dude. Your mother is a sex fiend.”

“Shut up,” you say walking out of the stall. Going to wash your hands, but looking at Hayden who walks behind you with your sweet boy. “Should we wipe off the counter?”

“Nah, just look at it as getting blessed with your ass on it?” You roll your eyes, heading to the door, “What? Do I not get a kiss?” Stopping at the door, you turn to kiss him. “I love that you’ve got still a bit of that rebel in you. You’re not good enough to get dicked down at your brother’s wedding.”

“Don’t go walking around looking like that then.”

“Wait! Does that mean I get a repeat later?” You shrug walking away. “Doll! Doll Rogers! Don’t leave me hanging like that! Doll!”

“Hayden!” Curtis shouts, poking his head out a door, “Shut up!” Hayden throws his hand up at him, walking Doodle outside to take his seat beside you. There was no wedding party. Just Steve and Tulip, and he likes it that way as he chases you out the door.

Bucky tries. He really does. He tries to pay attention before the ceremony, but you were just a couple rows in front of him. You didn’t even turn around to see him come in. Your head constantly leans over on that man beside you, leaning to the side to kiss on his neck. Sometimes bending over to pet your dog.

And when Curtis walks in, leaning down to help Sailor walk down the aisle, holding onto both of his hands, you squeal seeing the little baby. Picking her up to raise above your head, and bringing her down to smooch all over her squishy face. Sailor’s couple of teeth shiny and bright as she smiles with her mouth wide open.

You pull her to her chest, and give her a big hug as she gurgles, “Memememememe.”

Curtis takes a seat beside you, playing with the baby’s curls, but then she reaches for Hayden, and he gets to see the profile of your face. You looked peaceful. Serene as you beam at Sailor in his arms. Bucky feels his breathing pick up, as he starts to have a panic attack.

“JB,” Ari playfully says as he sits down, and you turn around to look at the two of them, giving them a kind smile, before you are back looking at Sailor. The baby yawns as she goes to lay down on Hayden’s chest.

“Would you look at that,” Ari whispers. The two of them viewing you lay down on his shoulder, staring at your niece as she slowly closes her eyes. “She looks good.”

“She always does.”

“Fine, she looks different. Wonder who the dweeb is?”

“Her boyfriend that’s a doctor.”

“Ooh,” Ari looks over at Bucky with a smile, “She definitely raised her standards. Doll dating a doctor. Who knew this was her future when she was fucking around with both of us,” Bucky elbows him in the side, “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m only joking. Geeze, you should seriously leave that alone.”

Curtis leans behind you, whispering something in Hayden’s ear, and Ari tilts his head looking at the interaction, “Why does Curtis know him?”

“It’s his little brother.”

“Haha,” Ari chuckles, “Man, he did you dirty. Took her away from the MC and right into his brother’s arm. Ow,” Ari groans as Bucky’s elbow goes back into his ribs. “Stop doing that. Come on, JB. That girl was too good and smart for you anyways. Look at her all shiny and happy. Wearing a color besides black. And I hate to break it to you, that is in their future.”

“What?” Bucky spins to look at him.

“That. Watch her lookup at him. She’s basically begging for him to fuck one of those in her.”

You lift up off of Hayden, whispering something in his ear, and your left hand presses against his cheek, and Bucky struggles to breathe again. A pretty diamond shining on your finger, before you go to stand. Walking down the center aisle, and stopping right beside them.

“Hey, guys, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re not that far away from me. I hear everything that you’re saying. That is Hayden, my fiancé, and yes, I’m very much in love. And by the way Ari, yes, one day he will give me one of those things called babies. Now if you would please, stop talking about me, okay?” Bucky gulps looking up at you. He’d seen you mad before, but now there was a calmness in your fury, making you that much more terrifying. “Can you please just quit talking about me?”

“Yeah, of course, darling,” Ari nods his head, and you look over at Bucky. Raising your eyebrows you wait on him to nod, before you thank them, and walk back to the front. Reaching for the sleeping baby, and Hayden wraps his arm tightly around you. Doodle even lays his head on your knee, while you count to ten. Steadying your breathing.

Hayden kisses you on your forehead, his eyes glancing back at the two of them, and Curtis swats at his arm, and he looks back to the front. Waiting for the ceremony to be over with.

You watch Howard and Tara dance around with Sailor, as your eyes drift around the dance floor, Hayden has gone to grab some drinks and relieve Doodle, leaving you with your thoughts on your own wedding. You did really want to get married in the Everett’s backyard. That treehouse as a backdrop, and maybe even some chipmunks.

You smile and wave at your giggling niece, and how happy Howard and Tara were. Curtis was dancing with one of Tulip’s friends, and you lean back in your chair. Smiling at how Steve and Tulip just couldn’t quit looking at each other. Looking every bit like the newlyweds; happy and so in love.

Getting a tap on your shoulder when the song turns slow, you look up to see Bucky, “Care to dance?”

“I don’t want to,” you look back around. Trying to ignore him.

“Please?”

“Why, so you can make crude remarks about me?”

“Ah, to be fair, that was Ari,” you turn to glare at him, “Doll, please. I just want to dance.”

“No, you want to talk,” Bucky shrugs, grimacing at you, and he looks back at the dance floor, “You won’t be alone.”

“Fine,” you answer shortly, going to stand up as you walk to the edge of the floor, waiting for Bucky to grab your hand and waist. “What? Going to visit my future in-laws for Halloween, hoping to see me, wasn't enough?”

“Curtis told you?”

“He tells me everything. He’s my best friend. And no, we’ve never fucked.”

Bucky slowly nods, moving you around the floor, and you try not to look at him with such contempt, “What do you want to talk about?”

“That’s it? We’re done?”

“Bucky, do you even remember me going to the clubhouse to talk to you? And the only thing you could do was grope me and try to kiss me? Or were you too fucking high and drunk?”

“I remember.”

“I worked my ass off to get where I am. To get where I was then, I worked my ass off. I cried every fucking day. I hurt so much emotionally, but physically. I faced my past and my demons head on, and I hoped to go back to find you doing the same thing, but you were wallowing in your filth. And to top it off, you were fucking the girl that caused me to get my ass spanked in front of the entire MC. So yeah, I was done. And even that hurt to let you go, so don’t you go blaming Curtis and Hayden for anything Bucky. This was between me and you, and we were toxic for each other.”

“I’m sober.”

“I’m proud of you, but that doesn’t change anything,” Hayden looks around at your table confused, but with one look at the dance floor, he stops. Taking a deep breath, before sitting down. He wasn’t worried about your loyalty. He knew that this encounter was inevitable. It was needed.

“We’re not the same Bucky. That summer, and the years after where we were just fucking around, they’re over. They’re done. It’s our past,” Bucky starts to speak, and you push your hand up against his mouth. “I’m not going back to that time. I’m not going back to the MC. I’m happy where I’m at. You may look at Hayden and see a ‘dweeb’, but let me tell you, that man is amazing. He was patient with me when I was too scared to have sex with him. He makes me laugh everyday. He encourages me, and he believes in me. That man comes home to me everyday, and I never worry about what whore he’s been with. Don’t have to worry about coming home to see some slut sneaking out of our bedroom. He loves me. Like true love.”

“I loved you.”

“Even you can’t say you love me,” Bucky looks at you confused, shaking his head with tears in his eyes, “You used past tense, JB,” hearing your secret name for him, he lets a tear break through his waterline, and you wipe it away with a finger. “I loved you, too. I was never in love with you like I am him. He’s my right now and my always, JB. I’m not going back. I’m sorry, I can’t give you that part of me.”

“After all we’ve been through?”

“Bucky, we didn’t survive what we’d been through. I was drowning in that place, and you didn’t see it. If it wasn’t for Curtis, I would have died there. I never thought I could love again, and I love that man so much. Hayden is my everything. And I’m not even sorry about it. I’m sorry that you think that I’m that person for you. I’m not, and deep down you know I’m not,” his lip trembles, and he brings you closer, letting his chin rest on your shoulder.

“I don’t want you to suffer, but I need you to know that I can’t be that for you. I did the work. I came that day to see if there was anything left, and there wasn’t. You wanted me to leave to find myself, thinking I was always going to go back to you. Living in filth, and fucking whatever snatch you could pull into your room. I was celibate. I couldn’t even think about sex, and how many girls did you have underneath you?”

“They were faceless. I just pretended they were you,” you push him off you, and start to pull away, but he holds tight to your hips.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? You and Ari are the same. Always need someone to get your dick wet. If you really loved me, you would have waited. You would have put in the work to be a good partner for me. And you would have left the MC because you knew I didn’t want to be there, but you couldn’t.”

“Please, I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t change anything, Bucky. God, there is no us,” Curtis stands up from behind Hayden, needing to pull you away, but Hayden tugs at his arm, telling him to just trust you. “I want you to have what I have with Hayden.”

“If it’s not you, I won’t.”

“Bucky, it’s not happening. I’m marrying that man. We have a home together, and he…he’s going,” you look down at the floor, when you start to cry, “He’s going to make me a mother.”

“Because I couldn’t?”

“Bucky, we didn’t need Luna. I wouldn’t want her to grow up in the MC.”

“Doll, please.”

“I loved her, but she wasn’t supposed to be born. She was spared the life that I had. My daughter won’t know the pain I knew as old ladies taught me how it’s always the men. Everything I did was supposed to be for the men. If they cheat, it’s their right. If they hit you, you deserved it. If they fucking rape you, it’s your fault. Luna didn’t deserve that, just like I didn’t. Bucky, let me go, but do it for you. I had to let you go, so I could love myself. And when I learned to do that, I got something I never thought I would. A family. People who love me. And now a Hayden, my dweeb. The man, I don’t deserve, but I won’t push him away for all the money in the world. I’m holding him tight, because he is my future. And I want that for you. I love you, but I can’t love you the way you want me to,” standing on your tiptoes, you give him a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Goodbye James Buchanan Barnes. I hope one day to see you around at one of Sailor’s birthdays. And I hope you find the happiness that you deserve.”

“What if…what if I don’t deserve that?”

Pressing your hand against his cheek, he feels the chill off your ring, and sighs, “You do. When you’re in your right mind, you were the best. But for me, I did find better. You have so much love to give, give it to the right person. Even if that means you have to leave what you think you love. Maybe that place is just toxic. It was for me, Steve, and Curtis. Bye JB,” you pull his hands off of you, and turn to walk towards Hayden.

With Curtis now holding onto Doodle’s leash, Hayden meets you halfway. His arms wrap tight around you, and he rests his head on yours. Looking over at Bucky, and he gives him a quick nod, before Hayden pulls you up to look at him with your chin. Giving you the most gentle of kisses before smiling at you, “Let’s get Sailor and head home, okay? I could use some snuggles.”

“Yeah, me, too. We should tell the bride and groom bye though.”

Going to turn away, Hayden pulls you back close, “Hey, I love you.”

“I’m in love with you, Hayden Elias Everett. Can we like bump the wedding up a few months? I don’t want to wait.”

“Me neither,” he whispers, pressing his lips against you. You felt relief. It wasn’t an easy conversation, but one that you needed. Able to cut the last thread that tied you to the MC. Knowing deep down that you and Bucky both needed that.

Bucky clenches his jaw watching you and Hayden before storming out of the reception. Throwing a leg over his bike as Curtis stands in front of him, “You and that stupid dog need to move.”

“Hey! Doodle didn’t do anything to you.”

“No, but you sure did. You took her away from me, and right into his arms.”

“That’s what you think happened? Buck, I took her to my father who is a therapist. One I didn’t even talk to, but she needed help. Do you remember that day? Do you remember Ari beating her ass, before he threw her on the floor to square up with you? She was fucking rocking in the floor, covering her ears. That girl was willing to throw herself at everyone so she didn’t have to face reality. Used her fucking cunt as a way to not think. Do you even know half the shit that went on with her in the MC? Do you even know why Bruce made that lame ass claim of her stealing?”

Bucky shakes his head no, resting both his feet on the ground, “Why do you think he wasn’t invited?” Bucky’s eyes go large looking at him, thinking about your words, and what the old ladies had taught you, “Yeah. He was attempting to take what he wasn’t given, until I walked in. Remember how he had a fucking black eye? Yeah, I had to get him off her somehow. And then he assaulted her again by telling Ari. Questioning his leadership that led to her beating. You see, it’s a cesspool there. He patched out, didn’t he?”

With a nod of Bucky’s head, Curtis shrugs, “He couldn’t bear to look at you. You deserve more than that place,” Curtis reaches his hand in his pocket, pulling out a card, and hands it off to Bucky.

“What’s this?”

“That’s my appointment time. Doc, she uh, she does good work. She’s been helping me deal with some shit,” Curtis sighs. It was the first person besides you that he admitted to seeking outside help.

“Your dad’s a therapist.”

“Yeah, so is my brother. You think I want to talk to them about my sister’s death? About the many times I failed with her and Doll? I don’t think you realize the shit Doll dealt with because she thought that was her duty. It’s not my story to tell. Go see Doc though. She’s good people. I can miss an appointment.”

Bucky looks down at the card, running his finger over it, but hands it back to Curtis, “I can’t afford to keep this up.”

“Leave the MC. I’m currently living with Doll and my brother. Sometimes bounce back to the parents’ when they need some alone time. I do honest work, and make an honest living. You get out, I’ll pay for your appointments.”

“Why do you want to do this?”

“Doll and Steve see the good in you. So do I. Don’t let tragedy ruin you, Buck. That appointment’s already paid for. At least give her a try. For me?” Bucky shakes his head no, kicking his bike on, “For Luna.”

He looks over at Curtis trying to hold back his tears. “Hearing all that about Doll, and you think your unborn daughter needed to grow up in that environment?”

“No.”

“Do it for Luna. Please?”

“One appointment,” Bucky gives Curtis a nod, and pets on Doodle’s head, and the dog’s tongue lags out of his mouth, “Tell her I loved her, too.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @peaches1958 @kaybaby2494 @flannellover67 @infatuatedjanes @redbloodedgurl @thedarknessilove @whimsyplaty92 @superforgottensoul @lilac-tea-time @seitmai @smile1318 @nichmeddar @andydrysdalerogers

#keys in your ignition #hayden everett #hayden everett x reader #hayden everett x y/n #hayden everett x fem!reader #hayden everett x you #harvard hottie #harvard hottie x reader #harvard hottie x fem!reader #harvard hottie x y/n #harvard hottie x you #hayden everett smut #harvard hottie smut #bucky barnes #ex!bucky barnes #ex!bucky barnes x reader #ex!bucky barnes x fem!reader #ex!bucky barnes x y/n #ex!bucky barnes x you

74 notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 1 year

Note

Would you ever write ex Bucky?

Hi, nonnie! I think I would with the right story, but not with Bucky cheating on the reader being the reason they broke up. That's not my cup of tea as far as writing. And you lovelies know me. I would want them to be happy. 💙

Love and thanks. 💙

#navybrat answers #writer ask #character ask #bucky barnes #ex!bucky barnes #anon ask #sending love ❤️#asks are always appreciated

16 notes · View notes

fic-finders · 2 years

Note

Hi I was hoping you could help

I’ve been trying to find a fic but can’t remember the name is was a Bucky x reader where they used to be together but he pushed her away and said some horrible things to get her to leave and then it’s been a few years and the team she is working with now have to work with the avengers so she comes back. She used to be really close to Clint and Nat and she left without telling them or contacting them (becuase Bucky said something to her that was to do with them so she felt she couldn’t contact them) and she now has panic attacks that tony helps with untill her team comes out to meet her and it turns out she’s married to one of her team mates (but it turns out to be a fake marriage)

Ok listen, I know exactly what series you are talking about. I have read it multiple times but the second I started looking for it, it disappears. Lol I fucking hate that. Literally when I stop looking for it, I will find it by accident. That always happens lol.

Does anyone know the name and author of this fic?

And her marriage was “fake” because the guy was gay and he had a boyfriend and the three of them lived together and had a dog I think. and bucky broke up with her because he kept on hurting her in his sleep I believe. Natasha and reader made after sparring together and the reader broke or sprain something.

Bucky also thought her husband was cheating on her after overhearing his phone call with his boyfriend and told everyone and that was when the reader and husband told them about their fake marriage and the husband’s sexuality and the reader was pissed at bucky because it force the husband to come out when he wasn't ready or something.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #ex!bucky #bucky barnes angst #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #ex!bucky barnes

44 notes · View notes

notafunkiller · 5 months

Text

out of style

Summary: A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends' wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky's hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.

Pairing: ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, fingering, oral séx, no condom (but f is on birth control), language, a little alcohol, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 7.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

What an ass... He has no shame at all. And the worst part? You’re still somehow surprised by it. As if you haven’t known him for years.

You look away, making sure to take a sip from your wine before focusing on the conversation again. It’s Nat’s big day, and you’re so happy for her, but listening to this story for the seventh time is exhausting. Same reactions, too: “Wow, he’s so well trained.” or “The wedding bands didn’t fall even once. Enzo is fantastic.” He’s a trained dog, you don’t get why they’re so fucking impressed.

You give Nat a smile before you excuse yourself to go to the bar. Maybe you should get a cocktail, the wine tastes terrible. On the way, you notice Steve talking to Miss Sunshine in the right corner, and you just nod toward him politely, trying to look unbothered. It’s his best friend’s girlfriend after all. What did you expect? Plus, maybe it’s just a polite conversation.

“A Sex on the Beach, please,” you murmur to the bartender.

“Vodka so early?”

You turn your head with a sigh just to see a guy you recognize from Nat’s engagement party. A fresh haircut, a simple suit and wandering eyes.

“Is there a time limit for a cocktail?” you respond, rolling your eyes when you notice he is still fixated on your chest.

He immediately raises his hands in defense as he takes a seat next to you.

God, if you hate one thing about being single besides the lack of sex is this… needing to deal with those men. It was perfect when Bucky used to take care of them.

“I didn't mean it like that, sweetheart.” You scrunch your nose instantly. God no!

“Here you go!” The bartender places the glass gently in front of you, and you’ve never been more grateful to see her.

“Thank you!” You smile before taking a huge sip, hoping it will turn him off and make him get away.

“A vodka tonic for me.” His tone is commanding, and you try not to roll your eyes again as he leans in closer. “We’re matching.”

“Huh?” You choke.

“Vodka lovers.”

Alright, time to get out of here!

You quickly grab your glass and stand up, making sure to fix your dress just in case, but his eyes are already on your breasts again. For fuck’s sake! How is he Steve’s cousin?

And talking about Steve, you almost jump when you hear him saying your name.

“Hey.” You’ve never been happier to see him.

You can’t say the same thing about his friend, who’s right next to him, looking the creepy blondie up and down.

“Is everything alright?” Steve asks with obvious concern. “Do you feel okay?”

“Hey, man! The food is great and the company even better. Look at her, such an eye candy, am I right?” He chuckles at his own disgusting comment. “I mean, you’re married. Don’t answer that, I don’t want Romanoff on my back.” And after all of this, he has the audacity to wink at Steve. But before you can throw your cocktail over his shirt and make a scene, Bucky’s already getting in front of you, blocking your view with his huge back.

“If you want to keep your teeth, get the fuck out of here and never, ever get even within three feet of my wife. Am I fucking clear?”

His tone is so cold, harsh, and arrogant at the same time, but also so possessive. It surprises both: you and Steve, because he immediately looks at you confused before dropping his eyes on your hand.

He must be looking for a ring.

God, you never hated Bucky more than when you see blondie standing up and going straight outside just like that. It makes you even angrier because it’s always a man who has to explain the obvious signs to these assholes so they leave. You say no? You are playing hard to get. You are with a man? Then it’s all off-limits.

You sip your cocktail with frustration, the taste of vodka lingering on your tongue.

Then, you take a step toward Bucky, grabbing his arm and turning him so he can face you. “Listen and listen good, I’m not your wife and I don’t need you to play the macho hero! I can handle myself, so back off!” You wanted to leave after saying this, but the way he looks at you makes you change your mind. His eyes softened, showing a trace of your old Bucky, and it only pisses you off more. He labeled you just like that... “I divorced you for a reason, I’m not your property or responsibility. Stay out of my fucking business or I’ll show you exactly how well I can take care of myself!”

You hand him your half-full glass and storm out, seeing red. Or well, blue.

You anticipated that he’d come after you, of course you did. You know him, as much as you hate to admit. You still know him well. Too well.

And when you hear his sigh behind you, you don’t jump.

“You can handle yourself, but he was all over you. Sorry for being a gentleman.” He apologizes sarcastically. “I guess old habits die hard.”

“Too bad, Barnes! I am not your little wife. I am not your girlfriend. I am not even your friend.” You turn your head to look at him as he’s standing on the other side of the balcony. “And I am not that flavor of the month of yours, you have to kill these habits.”

He raises his head. “Flavor of the month?”

“Yeah, your plus one. You know, you should take care of her instead of trying to play hero and calling me your wife.”

“Keeping an eye on me? He smirks. “Thought you divorced me for a reason.”

Fuck him! He thinks he got you... “I did! You couldn’t open your mouth to say what bothers you, remember?”

“Well, I opened my mouth to do something else, far more exciting.”

You gasp, incredulous at his audacity.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream, walking toward him. “Seriously!”

“What is wrong with me? You tell me! You divorced me for a reason.”

“Don’t you have someone else to bother? Fuck off already, Bucky!”

“You got angrier with me now than back there with him. Unbelievable!” He shakes his head.

You take a deep breath, trying not to have a crisis. You are not gonna let him get to you. “Look, can you just pretend this didn’t happen?”

He instantly looks at you shocked as he leans in. “This as in,” he waves between you two. “Our marriage? You think I can pretend our marriage never happened?” His voice grew louder, his words punctuated by sharp, angry inflections. “You think just because we divorced, you get to ask me that? How can you...”

You’re taken completely aback by his whole attitude, and it’s like you’re back in time at your wedding as he made you sneak out so he can make you come on his tongue after saying all sorts of things.

You don’t know why you suddenly remembered that, but you need to snap out of it.

“I meant the whole interaction, you annoying man!”

“How was I supposed to know?” He looks much more relaxed now, though, and before you can think about it, you’re poking his chest.

“Why would I tell you to forget about our marriage, Bucky?” You smile. “You are more than free to think about me as you fuck your little flavor of the month. I am not gonna stop that.”

You see his eyebrows raise instantly as his gaze drops to your finger. “My little flavor of the month? How many times did you think about me fucking her?” His hand finds your wrist. “Did you wonder if I’m fucking her from behind as I choke her? Did you imagine me coming all over her tits? Did you-”

You grab his cheeks, just the way he likes it, to stop him.

“You think I have nothing better to think about? I have my own dicks that occupy my thoughts,” you lie through your teeth, and he knows it. God, he knows it as he chuckles right away.

“What’s so funny, Barnes?” You let go, expecting him to do the same, but he’s still holding your other wrist.

“You have no dick to think about. I know you broke up with your last flavor of the month, honey.”

He knows how much you hate being mocked with the word honey, but you bite the inside of your cheeks. “It’s funny really,” you fake giggle, looking up at him. “You assume I don’t have someone already. Maybe I’m just enjoying my life after our divorce... new dick every month since I am a free woman. I don’t even need something serious. You know how much I love sex.”

His smile immediately drops, his face reddening.

“You are absolutely infuriating!” Even his tone carries a sense of irritation.

“Aww, what happened?”

It’s his turn to grab your face, making you gasp. You don’t remember the last time he touched you, and you’re shivering.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, and you know it!”

“I don’t play games, Bucky, that is your specialty.” You smile, trying to maintain your composure. “Now let me go and get back to your little girlfriend. You can be mad about how many dicks she thinks about.”

“You can’t do the whole non-attachment shit. I know you well, don’t forget that. You’re my...” He talks so fast you’re surprised he stopped. You know what he was gonna say, of course you know. The audacity!

“I am not your wife, Bucky. You literally have a woman with you here tonight. We divorced, we live in separate places, and we fuck different people.”

“Who are you fucking, huh?” He almost spits the last words. “Tell me! Nat said you’re single.”

“You’ve been asking Nat about my personal life?” And she is spilling to him? No way.

“Fuck...” he frowns, dropping his hand from your face. “No.”

“Steve!” You realize. “God, this is pathetic! Why do you keep tabs on me, huh? Can’t you just mind your own business? Is your life goal to piss me off?”

“I’m not the one calling Jessica the flavor of the month.”

“Ha!” You laugh in his face. “Well, you have no success in getting a girlfriend. And they all look pretty familiar.” You can’t hide the venom in your voice. “The differences are they’re just taller and with less in the chest department. Quite interesting, don’t you think?”

“So you’re keeping tabs on me too!”

“You flatter yourself. It’s quite obvious, look at Jessica. Does she know you were married to me? Does she beg you to fuck her mouth? Does she...” You take a deep breath. “Does she call you daddy, James? Does she ride you until you lose control and turn her on her back so you can pound her?” You don’t care anymore. Right or wrong, you’re gonna let it all out. “Do you praise her? Tell her how wet she is for you? How your cock is made for her? Do you... do you tell her you love her while she’s coming? Do you fucking call her your good girl?”

“Jesus-” You don’t let him continue his sentence, interrupting him.

“Does she take you like I did? Does she beg for you because she feels empty, James? Does she? Did any of them?”

“Stop. It.”

“Why? You didn’t stop!”

He sighs, reaching out to grab your cheeks gently. “No one does, are you happy? I don’t even fucking try. I don’t let anyone call me daddy, I don’t choke anyone and I definitely don’t fuck anyone like I fucked you. Are you happy? Seeing me miserable and pathetic? Are you enjoying it?”

You can’t deny the satisfaction and relief you feel when you hear that. Dating post-him was a very bad experience overall, so him not upgrading, indeed, in any way, makes you feel victorious. At least, you’re both suffering.

“Yeah, I actually enjoy that.”

“What about you?” He snaps. “Do you do all of that?”

“I don’t want to be called daddy, James.”

“You know exactly what I meant! You call those losers daddy? You choke around their cocks? Do you beg for their small dicks to go deeper and finish yourself off after it?”

“Like I begged for your small dick?” You ask annoyed, knowing how dumb this lie is, but what else can you say? No one compares to him and never will.

His response shocks you as he reaches down to the zipper of his worn jeans and pulls it down.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you crazy?”

“Wanted to, you know… give you more mocking material in case you forgot how small it is.”

You have to think twice about what to say because the first thought was: I have enough videos, thanks. But you can’t. You can’t expose yourself like that.

“James, what the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to hurt me?”

“With my small dick?”

You look away for a few seconds, not wanting him to read you. “Why are you doing this? We divorced, you’re seeing someone, I’m good by myself... just let it go.”

He smiles at that, and you realize you indirectly told him you are indeed not fucking anyone.

“Why would I let go of my wife?”

You’re slapping his chest before you realize what you’re doing. “Stop this, Bucky! Just fucking stop.”

He’s hurting you, how can he not see that?

“You said you divorced me for a reason. You said...” he pauses. “You ordered me to leave you alone. Well, what if I don’t want to?”

“What are you, a fucking stalker?”

“No!” He almost screams. “I am fucking in love with you, you infuriating woman!”

“W-what?”

He can’t be joking about this, can he? He is not cruel. He is not vile. This isn’t a game.

“I’m in love with you. I love you. You own me... you fucking control me.”

“How?”

He laughs hysterically, running his hands through his hair before pulling. “I am fucking obsessed with you: how you are, if you’re doing well, if you miss me, if you’re fucking someone else, if your date went great, if you regret being with me, if someone else makes you smile wider. I dream about you, I am so miserable I couldn’t be with anyone. With Mia it lasted a month. I wasn’t... I wasn’t okay. I am not okay.”

You look at him, waiting for more. “Go on and zip your jeans, we’re in public.” You watch him quickly do what you demand before you continue. “And what about Jessica tonight? Or Alexa a month ago? Why are you lying to me?”

“It’s not real. Jessica... I was just trying to make you jealous, okay? I was sneaking looks all night, have you not noticed at all?”

You don’t smile, despite your huge instinct to. Instead, you cross your arms, watching him drop his gaze straight to your boobs.

“Why would I notice, James?”

“Well, how did you notice Jessica looking a little like you, that she’s with me here?”

Fair point...

“Just...” You’re suddenly gripped by this crazy urge to just fuck him right here. You even regret telling him to zip back up. You could have just lifted your dress as he lowered his briefs and took out his cock. And just like that, you could have just fucked against the wall or something. You would have let him rip off your panties too. You just need his cock so badly! “Shut the fuck up!” You snap, grabbing him by his neck so he can lean in enough for you to be able to kiss him. And oh, you kiss him!

You don’t have to fight to dominate the kiss, surprisingly, because he lets you. He lets you bite his lip and almost draw blood, he lets you unzip his pants again and push down his unfit-for-a-wedding jacket, and most importantly, he lets you be his again, as pathetic as that might sound. You feel him emotionally, not just physically.

Without wasting more time, you drop to your knees, making sure only your dress and shoes touch the floor directly. You drag down his pants and briefs at the same time from your position, and he looks at you surprised.

“I thought we’re in public and you were fucking some-” his words die as you bring your tongue to the head of his cock, tasting the precum, but not sucking even a little bit.

“Weren’t you saying something?” You tuck your hair strands behind your ears as you mock him. You love being on your knees for Bucky. He has this dominant energy, but he always makes you feel in power even when he fuck your mouth. And you enjoy it, you feed on it. One of the reasons you missed him so much. And he can take mocking. “Please go on. I am all ears.” You breathe out on his dick. “And tongue.”

“Oh god,” Bucky’s voice is a moan at this point, and you laugh. So easy...

“I’m your god now? Aww! Come on, do I have to do everything tonight?”

He looks down at you confused. His blue eyes are almost grey, and you know he’s on cloud nine already just because you’re there.

“What?”

“Oh, you need translation. Well,” it’s all you say before wrapping your lips around his dick and using both of your hands to push him as deep as he can go inside your mouth. He moans at the same time you gag, and his balls slap you in the face. He instinctively looks at you to ask if you’re okay, but you are more than okay. You are fucking alive. You encourage him to fuck your throat at this point by squeezing his ass cheeks and touching his balls.

“God, look at you! That pretty black dress…” He pulls out and back in not as forcefully as he can, but enough to make you start tearing up quickly. “On your knees for your man. That mouth!”

You find yourself moaning at the feel of his fingers grasping and tugging at your hair. Jesus, how you missed this...

“You have the sweetest mouth.” Does he even realize what he’s mumbling? “I could die right here. Right now,” he says and thrusts harder, which makes you close your eyes. You can barely see anything because of the tears, and he’s already close. “My pretty baby, my fucking girl.”

You’re getting wetter and wetter the more he talks, and it’s crazy. You’re cold and your jaw is hurting, yet you love this.

“Not caring if someone can catch us, just making sure you mark me again. God, I'm gonna come, baby. Gonna... should I p-pull-”

You don’t let him finish his sentence as you grab his ass to make sure you keep him there, in your throat, as he comes while moaning your name.

When he finishes, he immediately helps you stand up, before he kisses you desperately, his tongue immediately licking your bottom lip to get access. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly. You moan in the middle of the kiss because his semi-hard cock is right where you need it, and it’s like torture...

“Need to taste you, okay, baby?” He asks with so much need in his voice. He sounds so whipped. “Need my pussy. Can I take you to my room?”

That is perfect, a dream at this point. But you need to make him a little more desperate.

“But the wedding… They would kill us.”

“I am sure you care sooooo much about this wedding and Nat’s stories. More than about getting my tongue on that pretty clit of yours and making you come all over my face.”

You can’t hold back your laughter.

“Fair point, Mr. Barnes. I deserve my orgasms, especially after listening to you pathetically trying to seduce me by admitting how desperate you are.”

“You dropped to your knees on this balcony just to mark my cock as yours.”

You pull his hair a little. “You said it yourself, it's already mine. Now get that ugly jacket and carry me.”

Bucky snorts, kissing your cheek. “You bought me that ugly jacket.”

“I know.”

You don’t know where you left your phone and even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. All you can focus on is Bucky taking off your dress and groaning at the sight of your cups. You couldn’t wear a full bra, so you improvised. They could barely hold your breasts, but no nipples showing? Win.

“Hurry up!”

“Jesus,” he moans and reaches for your cups. Desperate man... you roll your eyes, but let him uncover your breasts and grab them into his hands eagerly. He’s not just holding them, he looks and touches them as if he’s never seen boobs in his entire life, let alone yours.

“James...” You sigh, throwing your head back in pleasure when he finally gets your nipple into his mouth. Your hand finds his hair instantly, and you watch him suck happily while playing with your other nipple.

“You’re quite hungry,” you say with a smile, stroking his hair. You missed this so much. His need to always touch or sleep on your boobs, the way he grabs them while he’s pounding you... You shiver in anticipation when he switches to the other tit.

“Fucking shit, I missed them so much.”

You snort. “My boobs?”

“Mine.” He’s not sucking anymore, he’s eating them, shocking you.

“H-hold on a second, Bucky. They’re breasts, not my clit.”

“It’s been a year, love. Let me get my fill. I died without them. Died!”

As much as you wanted to think only about the part he missed your boobs, you can’t help the jealousy that clouds your mind. You were divorced, yet the image of him sucking someone else’s tits makes you want to hit a wall. Mia all over him... You pull his hair angrily. “You surely had other tits in your mouth, Bucky, for the past year. Don’t pretend this is any different.”

He immediately stops sucking. “You... you can’t believe this. Tell me you don’t believe this.”

You look away, too proud to face him. “What am I supposed to believe, huh? It’s been one fucking year.”

“I’ve been yours this whole year. I’ve been thinking about you, fucking my fist while watching... our videos, as fucked up as it might be. I tried to date, but I failed, and trust me, it has nothing to do with the size of my dick and my age. No one is you. No one smells like you or talks like you. No one is my brat with the god complex.”

“God complex?” You raise your eyebrow, keeping your face straight. “Fuck you.”

“I will fuck it out of you as I usually do, don’t worry.”

“Then why does it keep coming back?”

He chuckles. “Because you want to get fucked all the goddamn time.”

“Like you don’t!” You puff. “Come on, I breathe in your direction and you get hard, Bucky.”

“Did you see yourself? Did you have sex with yourself? You cannot judge me!” He grabs your breasts again. “There is no comparison, okay? You have no rival. Never did, never will.”

“That’s all?” You puff, amused. “My looks?”

“Do I even have to say… Your god complex exists for a fucking reason. You’re the smartest, most sarcastic, and feistiest person I’ll ever meet. One mocking comment, and you know how I get.”

“Pathetic?” You mock him on purpose just to get the reaction he is talking about. You love it when he compliments you.

“Is this why you divorced me? Cause I am a pathetic son of a bitch?”

You take a deep breath. “I divorced you because you refused to communicate properly with me anymore, and you know it.”

“So not because of my small dick, either,” he remarks, making you roll your eyes.

“No, your small dick is one of the reasons I am here.”

Bucky dramatically touches his heart. “So you’re using me for my sex skills!”

“As if you don’t beg me to use you. Come on, put that mouth to good use before Nat comes after us.”

He doesn’t disappoint as he finally rips your underwear off, just like you fantasized about, and you use this as the perfect opportunity to fish for more.

“What happened, Jamie? So eager. Aren’t you a little good-”

The word boy comes out as a moan when you feel his index finger curled up inside you suddenly.

“What happened, honey? Too big for you?”

“Dick!”

“You’ll get that. I just need to erase the memories of having little pencils in here. That must have been traumatic.”

“You’re such a jerk!” You snort, but he’s right. It was really bad.

Bucky shrugs, finally kneeling properly between your legs before lifting them on his shoulders. God, yes!

“Gonna give my pussy some loving.”

“D-didn’t know you have a pussy, James.”

He smiles against your inner thigh. “I certainly keep what I lick.”

“Eww, what the fuck.”

He snorts, kissing your slit. “I am joking, baby. Tried to imitate one of those dicks you thought you could replace me with.”

Petty fucking bitch! You grab him by his hair and push him closer to your pussy.

“Shut the fuck up and eat!”

His tongue feels like heaven, indeed, on your clit. You’ve lost count of how many times you remembered him eating you out so you can come this year. He's just so good at eating your pussy.

You let out a satisfied sigh when he adds a second finger. You start to feel like before… like you and Bucky are still married and with no problem. Like you're happy. He makes you so happy. Made.

So you stare at his hair and stroke it as he sucks on your clit, completely squashed between your thighs, and try to hold back your tears.

When he adds his third finger and starts tracing eight figures on your clit with his tongue before he flattens it, you know you’re about to come.

There is something about the way he always manages to make you vulnerable even if it’s not intentional, to cut you open and get in... and you don’t want it to be over. You can’t let him go again after tonight. You’d suffocate.

Your efforts to delay your orgasm and not tear up are futile because when he sucks a little harder, you come and start sobbing somehow. The orgasm is strong and even though you’d want to watch Bucky, you close your eyes, letting yourself go, and shut your mind down for a second. Everything feels so overwhelming. So amplified…

You’re grateful he doesn’t stop fucking you with his fingers, either, even though you felt him hesitating when he heard you crying. You really needed this.

As soon as you finish, you drop your legs, furiously trying to wipe your face. He knows the difference between crying because of a crazy orgasm and you being emotional. He instantly gets back on the bed next to you and pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve had in two years.

“God, I’m...” You don’t know how to continue this phrase. You should not feel sorry for crying and you’re not pathetic for it. “I m-missed you so much, Bucky. Why did you give up?”

You feel his warm breath on your forehead. “I never gave up, baby, I swear.”

“B-but you did. You didn’t even try for more than six months. When I told you...” You take a deep breath. “That I want a divorce, you didn’t even look at me. Once, Bucky! Not even once…” You show him your index finger. “You simply agreed. You gave up on us. I was waiting for you to say: no, let’s try. No, I’ll communicate. Your words...” You sob. “Your words would have been enough for me. You should know that.”

“Oh my god, baby, please, breathe!” He kisses your forehead over and over again. “I never gave up, I swear. I wanted to say no, I wanted to tell you all of that, but you asked me for divorce. It felt like you wanted out. You were tired of fighting... you were tired of me. And I didn’t want to tell you to stay just so you could either stay with me out of pity or reject me. I would have died... To look at you and beg, and to see you detached.”

You shake your head into the crook of his neck. He cannot...

“How would I be detached if I tried for six months? How would I get tired of you?”

“Exactly. You tried for six months. I thought you snapped out of it...”

“Out of what?” You whisper, scared to say it louder, but he hears you anyway.

“Out of love.”

You immediately lift your head to look at him. He’s crying, too. “Bucky...” You bring your fingers to his cheeks and start to caress them.

“I just couldn’t remember us like this. I couldn’t look into your eyes and see you staring at me like I’m a stranger.”

“Jesus Christ, when did we fail to communicate this much?”

He knows you don’t expect an actual answer, so instead of speaking, he holds you, and kisses you, and makes you giggle.

The more you move into his lap, the better you feel his erection pressing against your pussy. So close, yet so far.

He groans, placing his hands on your hips. “Careful.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be careful. I want you to fuck me raw right now.”

“Right now? He snorts, using his position to his advantage and moving. And just like that, you’re suddenly pressed with your back against the bed, and his mouth covers the valley between your breasts. That didn’t take a lot of convincing.

“Did you fuck anyone else without protection?” You ask unsure how to formulate it without it sounding a little weird. You’re not even sure you want to know the answer if it’s positive, but still.

“No. Only condoms and well... to be honest more my fist,” he chuckles, helping you get on your back again by bringing a pillow under your head. “I tested myself, of course.”

You nod, trying to hide your happiness. You selfishly wanted this: no one but you to feel him without any barrier.

“Good.”

“What about you?”

“No one for me, either.”

You would laugh at his proud face if you didn’t know he might use it to tease you later. You can use it too, though.

“Come on, baby, spread your legs for me. Daddy’s home.”

You laugh surprised, but you do what he says. You really missed having him between your legs.

Needy, you reach for his T-shirt, that for some reason is still on, and you tug it down, showing him you want it off.

He hesitates for a couple of seconds too long before grabbing his T-shirt by the neck.

“Come on, what did you do? Got a tattoo?”

You get your answer as soon as he’s finally naked.

“Oh, God!” You instantly lift your hand so you can grab his necklace. “What the fuck, James...”

“I told you I never gave up on us.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve been keeping it on since we divorced?”

He blushes, looking away. “Yeah.”

“Even when you were with other girls?”

Your heart is racing.

“Never took it off.”

You giggle, touching the surface of the ring over and over again.

“No wonder why nothing worked.”

“I had no intention to make it work.”

You say nothing, just looking into his eyes and letting him see how fucking much you love him, how he could never be a stranger, and you kiss him, wrapping your legs around his ass to show him what you need.

“I want you to pound me, okay? I want to feel you for days, do you hear me? I am so wet and ready. Please, just fuck me!”

You shiver a little when you feel the back of his hand brushing against your clit while he brings his cock to your entrance.

“Gonna make you mine again, alright? Gonna make you forget this year and everyone who,” He finally thrusts inside you. “Tried to get you.”

He’s thick. Really thick, and you can’t believe how you managed to survive without this stretched-out feeling for a whole fucking year.

“I hate you so much!’

He snorts. “I am pretty sure you love me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have my cock inside you after one year.”

“This is the problem!” You hiss when he pulls almost completely out. “One year, Bucky!”

“Aww!” He says a bit mockingly before thrusting all the way in again. Oh my God... you close your eyes. “Is this your bratty way of telling me you missed my small dick?”

“Bratty? You think this is bratty?” You ask him sarcastically before bringing a hand to his ass. “Harder!”

“Harder, huh?” He quickly unwraps your legs and turns you on your belly before you can react.

You gasp, shocked by how fast he is and hating the emptiness, but he ignores it, bringing a pillow under your pussy.

“Ass in the air, come on.”

You comply immediately, staring at his face from the side. He looks like he’s on a mission, with his hair already in all directions and the wedding band hanging around his neck.

The first thing you feel is his mouth on your ass cheek, licking on a spot before biting.

You hiss. “James!” It hurts, not more than a spanking, but you weren’t ready for that.

“Mine.”

You snort, wiggling your ass. “Yeah, yeah. Now gimme my cock.”

And he does. He so does, he’s not slowly entering you, no. He pushes in almost fully with only one thrust, making you bite into your pillow.

“You missed that, didn’t you? The way I fill you up is so good. The way...” He slaps your ass. “No one can make you feel so good. No one can fuck you like the desperate whore you are for my cock.”

You moan loudly into the pillow. You love being called a whore like this. Because he is right and he is obsessed with it, anyway. “B-Bucky...”

“Tell me whose cock you love? Tell me.”

He’s thrusting so fast at this point that you can barely even hear him.

“Bucky.”

“No, no, no. That is not what you call me like this.”

“James...”

He suddenly stops thrusting, and you whine, lifting your spinning head to look at him over your shoulder. No matter how much you try to tilt your hips to make him move, you fail.

“If you want to get fucked, baby, you gotta call me the right-”

“Daddy. Daddy, daddy. Happy now?”

He rolls his eyes, obviously not that happy with your tone.

You smirk.

“I see you need a lot of battiness fucked out of you.”

“Then why are you not fucking me, daddy?”

“Oh, goddamn it!” He’s not holding back now, moving like he used to. “Tell me, baby. Tell me you love me... that no one, fuck- no one is like me!”

His voice tinges with a hint of neediness... maybe even urge. His vulnerability takes you a little aback because it’s stronger than his mocking. He’s genuinely seeking for reassurance as he gazes at you with a mixture of desire, desperation and longing. He’s searching for validation in your eyes the way you were earlier, so you give it to him.

“You’re the only one for me, J-James. I love you forever. I never... I n-never stopped!” You can’t keep your head up a second longer as you drop it on your pillow, moaning.

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

You half-snort, half-moan. “W-we can’t.”

“We can.” The sound of his balls slapping against your pussy almost covers the sound of his voice.

“We... we have to apply first.”

He spanks your ass again, and you scream, the sudden pain making you feel so good.

“So wet for me. They stood no chance. T-they don’t know how hard you want it.”

“Daddy, please... Please!” You’re a moaning mess. You just need a little harder. Just a little.

You’re not sure if you’re gonna have a voice after this. He’s pounding you so hard.

“My good, good girl.” He’s squeezing your hips, and the sound of your skin slapping is echoing. “God, gonna come for me? Jesus, wanna fill you up with my come too. Please, baby.”

You don’t know when or how he manages to do it, but he sneaks one of his hands under your body and pinches your nipple. You gasp, the wave of pleasure hitting you as he keeps fucking you. You feel your body weakening when he says your name over andl over again, but you don’t open your eyes for a while, letting him fuck you desperately while playing with your breast.

“Gonna- fuck, take my come, wife! Take me!”

He’s coming so much... surprisingly much even for him. You can feel him dripping down your thighs even when he slows down, then stops his movements before he falls on top of you as soon as he finishes.

“James...” You groan. “You’re heavy.”

He places a small kiss on your back, and you giggle.

“I love you.”

You melt, but he moves to the side before you can reach for his cheeks.

“I love you, too.” You kiss him. “So much that I let you drag me out of my best friend’s wedding reception.”

Bucky snorts, brushing his nose against your face. “Pretend all you want, I know you were bored as fuck.” You feel him slowly pulling out of you, and you whine. It’s a little uncomfortable. “Sorry, wifey.”

“I’m not your wife yet.”

“Yet, but you were and you will be again this week.” He takes your ring finger into his mouth.

“Bucky!”

“What? We need new rings.”

You try to pull out your finger. “No, we don’t. I have mine.”

“We need...”

“How about we use all that money for a vacation instead?”

“Neah, honeymoon is honeymoon.”

He finally lets your finger go. “We are not buying other wedding bands.”

“I am not debating a new engagement ring, though.”

You roll your eyes, but you know it’s the best deal you can get.

“Fine, a new engagement ring,” you agree while rolling ro his side and placing your head on his chest. “I don’t wanna move.”

“Don’t want to or can’t?”

You decide to surprise him by biting a spot right above his nipple. He groans while you simply laugh.

“You just can’t be subtle, can you?”

“If you’d wanted subtle you’d have gone for someone like Steve.”

“Eww, Bucky. I have your come dripping out of me and you bring up Steve?”

“You literally talked about Nat a sec ago.”

Then, as if a switch was flipped, your eyes widen. “Oh shit, my phone!”

“Where did you forget it?” Bucky asks casually, so used to gathering your things for you. You really missed that, too.

“Table. God... Do you think they know?”

“Know what?” He giggles, raising both of you until your backs touch the headboard. “That you dropped on your knees in the middle of the wedding to suck my cock? Or how I fucked you raw until you cried.” A sudden realization crosses his face. “You asked me to fuck you raw. Are you... still on the pills?”

You roll your eyes. “You think I’d let you fuck me like this for the first time we talked to each other properly since we divorced if there was a big chance to get pregnant?”

“I assume you are still on the pills, don’t be patronizing!” He kisses your nose, which he knows tickles you.

Ass...

“You are asking a dumb question instead of getting your ass downstairs to bring me my phone.”

“How is that dumb? I wanted to know if I should get you a pill or something.”

“So you don’t want babies with me!” You try not to laugh as you say it, biting your lip to keep your face serious.

“Why do you act as if I told you I don’t want a baby with you?” He chuckles when he sees you pouting. “We’re just getting back together and no way you’d want a baby now. But if I am wrong, let’s go for it. I can give you a baby, just get off the pills.”

“You don’t give me a baby, James. We have a baby together!”

He sighs, getting off the bed to get his clothes back on. “Obviously, but I am the one coming inside you. This is what I meant. I am all in. But we need some adapting time at least.”

You should stop this whole teasing-testing thing. You both have the same opinion after all. You might have a baby, and you know he’d be involved one hundred percent, but not now. Absolutely not.

“I know. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re such a tease.” He snorts, putting on his pants. “Before I go, do you want me to run you a bath or should I bring you a towel?”

“Do you plan on staying there?”

He turns his head to you instantly. “Yeah, sure. I am gonna eat some steak and brag about fucking my wife.”

“Alright, alright. Bring me a snack and we can take a bath together. Actually,” you think about it better. “I’m gonna clean up and wait for you.”

“You want me to fuck you again, don’t you?” He asks as he fixes his jacket.

“Why? Is this all you could give me?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Sure.” You spread your legs at the same time you grab your own breasts, making him groan. It’s so easy to get to him. And it’s hilarious.

“Jesus, you’re planning to kill me.”

“Not you acting as if it’s the first time this happened.”

“It is the first time in over a year, baby.”

You feel yourself softening again. “True. Now, please, please, please, don’t give them any details and bring me a snack.”

“What snack?”

“Anything, make me a plate, I don’t care.” He nods before reaching for the keys. “Oh, and Bucky? Tell your flavor of the month you don’t need her anymore.”

“I told you she is not-”

“And tell Nat I’ll make it up to her!” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence. You don’t need him to defend a random girl’s honor.

“You’re so jealous.”

“Lock the door!”

You giggle satisfied when he closes the door and let yourself scream out of happiness while staring at the bite he left on your ring finger. Mrs. Barnes never got out of style.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #ex-husband!bucky barnes #divorced!bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluf #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #my fanfics #my stories

3K notes · View notes

samodivaa · 6 months

Text

Thrill me, Fulfill me

You agreed to help for one mission—now you are both lustful and carnal, affected by sex pollen—you are flint, he is tinder.

Warnings - sex pollen, smut, rough/possessive sex, Hydra past, breeding kink, choking kink, multiple orgasms

Words - 8k

(the 3D render is for this fic, enjoy :3)

The horizon tips on its side, and slowly, hour by hour, the day spills out and soon the night will spread its darkness—traveling through the countryside is a charming escape and in a chronicle of events, with the light of the days—you feel the light inside too, your human spirit wanders in thoughts as you sit on the BMW’s trunk with closed eyes. It is June, and the world smells of roses, moments like these leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going—in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, Bucky and freedom—your soul feels at peace.

“I talked with Sam, he wants me to help him” There is an endearing nervousness in his voice “I was wondering if you would like to come with us”

In an instant, you reply with an annoyed face “No”

“No? Come on, you need people other than me in your life”

He scolds as he nests between your legs, fingers finding their way on both sides of your hips, drawing soft circles as they travel up towards your waist.

You arch an eyebrow at him, as if the answer is obvious “I don’t need others”

“You will love Sam, I told him about us, I mean-about us living together”

“You did, why?” you clip your words, hissing them into his face as you give a wide-eyed, searching look.

“I used to invite him over to my apartment, he started wondering why I stopped. I wanted him to know anyways”

“What else did you tell him?” you look at him with an arrested expression. His smile fades, and he finds himself staring into your eyes “James?”

It is only a brief moment, but you catch his blink of surprise at your demanding tone before he offers a tentative smile.

“I-I told him about your connections and he was hoping that-” he trails off quietly and you notice a tightness around his mouth and a dimness to his usually bright eyes.

You regard him thoughtfully and he sees the comprehension dawning in your eyes. You know exactly what he is asking.

“Did you miss the part of how I built them?” you ask, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He huffs in annoyance “Well no, but don’t worry-”

“Oh, hey Sam, I am another brainwashed assassin and when I escaped I did it willingly, for money, nice to meet you by the way”

“I get it, but you are changi-”

You snap, pinching your eyebrows close together.

“And this is my former partner who I used to occasionally fuck at Hydra and now that we have reconnected, we are fucking and living together”

“Anything else you want to add?”

“No, that's all” you finish bitterly, furious with him for letting Sam know so much about you.

“He already met you once in Madripoor, he knows about your past. Trust me, he is a good person, he accepted me”

You let out a hollow laugh

“I am not Captain America’s best friend, James. I am nobody, I don’t even have a legal identity”

You explain in a humorous yet deprecating tone, staring into space.

“Look at me, you need to trust me” he coos, his blue eyes have a doorway to your heart, the place where his care for you resides “I know that you are scared, but you need other people in your life”

It's the caring that he lovingly gives, the passion that he shows—that convinces you every time.

“If I break your heart, I break mine, darling”

Shifting your mouth from a frown into a light-hearted smile, you let out a small chuckle from underneath your breath. His metal hand rests on the small of your back, in that sweet spot that makes you feel feminine and protected—vanity, fear, uncertainty—all such distortions within your own ego—condition you to stay silent about your own feelings. Your programmed mind-pattern still needs to heal, all you need is time, you will get there eventually.

You kiss him on the cheek, which kind of surprises him.

“Хубаво, ще дойда” (Okay, I will come)

His gaze flickers up to your eyes and he can detect no deceit, no mockery.

There are many circumstances that lead to arrogance: one is when you're wrong and you can't face it—but you decide to face it this time, because you know that your brain relies on the familiar. It is reluctant to experience the unknown, which is the very essence of your human life.

The past should have no power over the present, but it still does sometimes—anger and death are deeply rooted, your emotional thermostat is broken. Everything in you is broken—you view yourself as pieces and Bucky somehow sees you as a whole.

Inside, your soul was so cold that you hated everything. You even despised the sun, for you knew you would never be able to play in its warm presence—you were condemned to stick to the past, working as a hitman for years. Everything changed when Bucky decided to track you down. You knew he was spying on you, because you made it easier for him.

You were afraid of the aloneness that you trusted for so long, but that is the truth that you still store in the granary of your mind. Maybe you will tell him one day. Maybe one day you will let him know that he helps you abandon your corporeal prison.

"Я просто люблю запах страха" (I just love the smell of fear) you whisper—a knife-wielding lunatic.

You face the attackers in a kind of instantaneous flash and see the disconsolate eyes, which remain stamped on your heart like the hot coals of fear, the power of death is then borne out by you—the queen at the bloody carnival, not afraid to spill blood while Bucky tries to prevent hurting, killing people at all cost.

It is easy when you work together, just as in the past—but he is holding back, you are not used to seeing him fight so carefully—Winter’s brutality is non-existent.

You sigh as the last man drops dead to the ground. With a knife in his chest. Or, rather, a pair of knives in the chest.

Yes, you helped them locate the rumored Hydra base, but Bucky’s intense paleness on his face shows regret, because you still don’t mind killing—you give him a pitying smile when your eyes meet before your system is poisoned with something.

It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion that you forget why you are here. And then your eyes meet again, there is fascination in his gaze, menaced by some invisible danger, and you want to succumb the terrible desire to weep when you realize what it is and you look at the mysterious trembling of your hands—your gaze goes up, but Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

He knows he has to go somewhere, he heads back to the apartment and he has feelings of sorrow, regret, directionless rage, a broad feeling of impotence. The horror of this misfortune penetrates Bucky so deeply that he is close to a panic attack—as if reliving the nightmare he sometimes has—Hydra giving him the pollen back in 1990.

He wanders all through the rooms as if walking in his sleep, chewing on his quiet rage.

He knows the theoretical mechanics of the pollen and he can barely stay on his feet because of the weakness of his knees, his skin is burning and he can’t resist the urgent need to palm himself through his pants—it starts slow and will go progressively worse.

He rubs his hand over his scalp, where his long hair used to be—now shaved very close to his head and bristling against his fingers, he lowers his blue eerily crystalline eyes before closing them. He feels like he should be crying, but he couldn’t summon the tears.

—it’s all his fault. Why did he need to come to your apartment a year ago, on a beautiful August’s evening?

„I knеw that we were following me, Soldat,“ you loudly acknowledge him, drawing out the derogatory term while your back is turned to him.

Stillness wraps Bucky up in a cold embrace, a chill running down his body as he hears you speak. On the string spun of your angel voice, grief and pain drowns him. The tone drawn from memory in his dreams it’s the same, unblinking, robotic as you offer him one spare look before focusing on cutting vegetables on the wooden board.

He exhales, then he slowly enters the apartment. „It is not Soldat, it’s Sergeant now“ his breath hitches and he stops as soon as he enters the room.

There is a crack in his stoic expression, excruciating memories flooding his mind. He knew that somewhere, some day, maybe at a less miserable time, you may see each other again, but he couldn't wait any longer.

The memories are still in his mind and the pain—too ripe in his heart. The more deeply he felt, the less he was able to breath, thinking of grief, and of getting past it.

That's why he came. He needs you in more ways that he wants to confess.

„Oh? What do you want, Barnes?“ your face is carefully blank.

„I wanted to talk to you“ he starts, taking a couple of steps towards.

Shadows lick up the side of his cheekbones, making his skin gold as he slowly walks to the opposite side of the kitchen island, you hear him move the wooden seating.

„And you couldn’t just-I don’t know…have knocked on the door?“

„Sorry, I didn’t know how to-“

He says, a tremor makes his voice uneven. Bucky takes in a deep breath to balance out the embarrassment thrumming through him.

„It is easier to be loyal to past habits, can’t blame you“ you murmur, voice perfectly respectful as you think about it with a heavy heart.

You said it as a matter of fact, without the scorn and mockery, but as an accepted truth before placing the knife you have been using, on the cutting board and finally facing him completely as you step closer to the island as well, leaning forward on your elbows.

But the wintery feeling of the pollen is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring that summer's memory of meeting you.

The memory played in his head, with a hopeless nostalgia that he was completely disoriented—he doesn't care if you are heartless, vicious and vulgar, stupid, grasping with incurable programming and mental problems, he enjoys spending time with you. He would rather have misery with you than happiness with any other person, because it is shared, you have a deep and silent understanding.

He was so happy when you suggested living together four months ago—he was okay with the sleepovers at each other's apartments—never was bothered with the need to rush your companionship.

The key to personal development lies in the daily routine—creating new memories with you stretches out psychological time, and lengthens his perception of both your and Bucky’s lives. When he wakes up from a nightmare he is so relieved, because he wakes to a dream, he enjoys the miracle of living with each other as much at the table as in bed.

Bucky finally lays on the bed, his head aches. He admits that he is still human, vulnerable, and sensitive—but he begins to remember how it had been when Hydra gave him the pollen and his self revolted at this, hates himself for not being able to fight it, hates himself for bringing you here.

He is sick with conflict, destructive emotions festeres in him while this sludge eats away at his insides and Bucky is acutely conscious of the swift passage of time, it will make him become blunt and callous—there is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get for him, but maybe this is what he deserves.

When you push open the bedroom door, you can’t prevent it from scraping against the uneven floor. Suddenly, in the absolute darkness of his mind, Bucky is brought back to reality. He is not surprised, for without knowing, he has been expecting you to come.

You close the door behind you as he stands up on his elbows—wondering why are you such a stubborn, blind, obtuse woman—why are you here?

Your scent carries across the room and paralyzes him with longing.

“Stay away, why did you fucking follow me?”

You stop in shock at the words he utters—they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless.

He is vulnerable, slightly paranoid. Although his voice is broken by uncertainty and his hands seem to doubt the existence of things—he tries to appear composed.

You can feel his eyes traveling up your whole body, staying on your side for a split second before moving up to meet your gaze.

“James, we don’t have another choice, we don’t have time”

You can't blame him—he is scared, scared and frozen, afraid of what he can do to you...the old primitive urge for sex. It's getting harder to control it with every passing minute—every second is lived with terrible intensity. It all flows over you with a screaming ache of pain—as you see him, the need grows even faster...and all you can do is remember and feel—the effects of the pollen—like a disease of the blood, dispersing throughout the body.

He looks like a bundle of past recollections, knotted up in a bundle of flesh.You remember what his flesh has gone through—but you also remember what he put you through that day. You feel the naked fear, the urge of self-preservation, you appear solid in front of him, but you are mimicking nothingness.

“God, I smell you. So hot and sweet”

The blank hell in the back of his mind starts to break through, spewing forth like a dark pestilence, the pollen eats away the pith of his humanity—the chaotic words pour out of his mouth as he gets up from the bed and you self-paralyze, your back hits the door—but this is the only way that will pull you both out of the plunge of—pain, need.

Your sexual attraction to him has been heightened beyond measure, as much as you try to bury it deep down in fear, the lust is getting greater than any other feeling or emotion. Every part of him is heightened to you now...his voice included.

He stops in front of you, belatedly realizing where his feet have carried him. There is no glamor, no attempt to hide it, nothing: his need taking slowly over all his senses. The unwelcomed bubble of intrusive lust, sinking into an even more heavily occluded state—you feel it too as he molds his front to yours and pins your breasts against his chest.

You are mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he looks—putting your mind into a darker cloud of irritation, waiting for him to do whatever he wants.

You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as he cages you against the door, his consciousness already vanishing and deforms itself in something primal, there is a delicious animal fire in his gaze.

“I want to taste you so desperately, it rages through me-fuck, fuck this-I want to fuck you”

His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning— it’s hard—but not harder than his cock.

“Do it, come on” you gasp out.

“If you don’t get out of here, you know what will happen”

He explains weakly, and when you say nothing, he grabs your waist with both hands, vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire.

Bucky’s control dies a slow death, shedding layers like leaves until—there will be none—he tends to be particularly rough, aggressive and possessive when given the pollen. You remember the feeling of possessiveness he had as the Winter Soldier over you, so intense it transformed into an obsession over your body.

“I'm not leaving, I need this as much as you” you say, tremulous with longing.

Bucky stares at your mouth as you speak—it looks provocative to him when you talk.

“Enough, dammit, leave”

His voice tightens, it pierces your soul—half agony, half lust.

You still have the choice of running away and finding someone else to do it, but leaving Bucky behind—you know there is not a girl in the world that can handle him, no one else has the serum, but you—your brain is ricocheting in between. It all drifts to the periphery of the mind when you meet Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s normal-” you say haltingly, your expression turns guarded.

He is livid, a sad look on his face

“We are not normal” he interrupts with a soft firmness “It’s insane to pretend we are”

You are both aware. Catastrophically aware.

“Stop talking, we’ve been through that once-”

and you look so well-equipped for this that is seems abnormal to Bucky, he is conquered by the obstinacy of you—so docile and willing to help—he wants to be emancipated for the moment from the torment of the pollen, but the guilt is still eating him.

“Do you remember the year it happened?”

"You always ask me whether I remember the stupid years, lets just-” you say with a shrug.

"It matters, it matters to me. I hate that you remember, I hate myself for what I've done to you” He explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his human hand.

"James” you whisper his name tremulously “I don’t blame you for anything”

His pain is paramount and you want it to end. His pain, his guilt. You are willing to suffer for the rest of your night so that he can take the easy way out of his needs. You admit it to yourself, without bitterness—you need to sacrifice dearly on behalf of Bucky.

“I’ll lose control” What you cannot forgive is dishonesty—you would rather know the hideously unflattering truth of his devastating visions than foul evasions “If you try to run now, I will probably chase you down anyways”

With all that waiting you have lost the strength of your legs, the firmness of your breasts, your tenderness look—barely keeping your heart intact. Maddened by that prodigious talking, you shamelessly groan, closing your eyes.

“This is bad,” you whimper “Oh God, this is bad. Please, do something”

The next critical manifestation: the unbearable pain.

“Snezinka-” (snowflake)

“Stay with me” your eyes shone “Play with me, please” like those of a cat.

In that state of hallucinated lucidity—you just can’t take it anymore. Presently the need grows stronger, hesitating then no longer. The attempts to conceal the pollen’s effects don't work anymore.

“At least…give me permission this time” Bucky shakes his head, sadness vibrating through his body as he speaks through clenched teeth.

“Yes, do whatever you want” you moan, shaking, desperate for his touch.

And then you see something possessive wash over him, making your body shiver in anticipation.

“Please, I need yo-”

You say, nodding at the soul-reaching blue crystals, not looking away from him, but Bucky doesn’t let you finish as he kisses you. His lips are warm, his body is heat and muscles against you. He kisses you like a tide, gentle at first, but with the ability to drown, his fingers digging into your waist, urging you ever-nearer to him, even when it’s physically impossible to be. Then his fingers slithers over your chest, hands immediately find your breasts and he starts to massage them for his own pleasure.

His fingers curl around the edges of your soaked blood shirt, pulling and eventually tearing it away from your skin.

There is lust and there is pain, a whirling wheel—not stopping.

He wastes no time, kissing you deeply again, already missing the feeling of your skin.

“I am yours, you know that”

A simple reply, his voice cut into you like glass, his words bleeding into your skin. It isn’t something to be argued against, it’s the truth and you acknowledge that. It’s ridiculous, absurdly sentimental to think that you managed to lay a claim on him like you did in the past.

You are trying to think of something, coming up short when he presses his hips flush against yours again, the chest harness wrinkling under the tight grip of your fists, pulling him and he hems you up against the door, grinding his cock against you. You slide one hand downwards, wrapping around his hard manhood and squeeze, Bucky moans quietly and involuntarily rolls into the contact, desperately seeking relief.

“Fuck” he says, a bit too breathlessly.

„James-this is not enough“ you undulate your hips against the aching bulge.

His name falling on his ears like that sent chills down his spine, he can hear the beat of his heart, his palms belong on your skin as he closes the gap between you. Nothing is sweeter, nothing else than you—lust is spreading like quickfire in his veins, groaning in the kiss.

“I know, I know” he whispers, a hint of exasperation and affront in his tone, leaning forwards to kiss you yet again, teasingly licking at your lips as he pulls away.

Sexual perversions mix with guilt and adrenaline as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed.

You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs—his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs. The corners of his mouth curve upward when he notices you staring a moment too long as he removes his jacket and shirt.

You remove your own pants and then you spread your legs open, positioned right in front of his standing body—one hand toys with your breast through the bra while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drags them down your legs fast before throwing them in his direction.

His breath stutters as he catches them with his metal arm, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft. It’s becoming more painful. He starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip—even in his large hand, it looks intimidating, the veins in his neck tightening.

He’s quite tall with broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even his leather jacket cannot hide. Your eyes continue their upward travel to his strong square-shaped face framed with short brown hair that falls to his shoulders and deep, blue eyes.

He then craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten now.

It is the impatience of the way he tears your bra from your body that really scares you: the pollen getting the better of him and you spread your legs wide, exposing your overall and the fragrance of the essences permits in the air, he smells it.

His cock nudges around your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead glides through your delicate folds. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming, this selfish. He is so far in that his balls are right against your pussy lips.

His greedy lips are once again on your skin, devouring everything he can—licking, sucking, and kissing, not holding back his throaty moans. He drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth. His lips are usually gentle and loving, promising long days and summer forever—but they soon turn sharp, peppermint, winter.

Animal logic. Prey. Predator… teeth dragging against your neck, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples; shooting up and down your spine.

You're perfect when you're underneath him, it's where you belong, beautiful face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his powder-blue orbits—curves cushioning him, your obedient body lush, muscular, but still feminine, your eyes flashing—and all he wants is to ruin you.

It's a sinful sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.

“Don’t stop, don’t, please”

There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.

He continues to trail his lips down the front of your throat and you realize that he is mouthing words against your skin “Mine. Mine. Mine”

“You feel so good every time, snezinka” he murmurs at your ear as slide to your throat and he tightens his grip on both sides on your neck, reducing the blood and oxygen to the brain. When he loosens, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by a shamelessly loud moan from your lips “I think that I love you”

“We’re drugged. That’s why,” you gaspe “Did you forget?”

Bucky acknowledges your words, they sink into him—he focuses his attention on your skin. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath, skin breaks out into a pale sweat and your eyes fill with tears. His trusts are ruthless.

“There is no pleasure as good as the feel of your pretty cunt wrapped around me” a dark edge creeps into his tone.

He says as he fills out pounds you, drawing a muffled scream from your throat as he starts to thrust more rapidly, setting a demanding rhythm.

Something strange starts to rage inside him, hearing you inhale sharply as he continues to kiss and bite your neck, leaving bruises deliberately and as he fucks you deeper, wanting to mark you in an entirely different way—he wants to breed you.

And you know you will wear the bruises of Bucky’s hands as you wear the scars of Soldat.

All extremes of the pollen are allied with madness, finally consuming his brain and body.

“You are so beautiful”

He says into your skin, tears welling, confused, mingling in his throat. Old wounds never truly heal, your past will never fully heal anyways. That one tear, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture is a means of expression—joy, and torment. Although it's just a small tear, it is the heaviest thing in the world. And it doesn't do a damn thing to fix anything in this situation.

“James-” your whole body exhaled a lugubrious lament, your heart breaks for him.

His eyes are always soulful, in some way; they seem to say things that you know he's probably never say out loud.

“I know baby, I know,” he nibbles on the side of your neck “You are so beautiful, I am sorry-so sorry, I can’t stop” his growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length “I need this, I need you”

You’re powerless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his voice sends shudders through your body, reacting in all the right ways to the words. The orgasm has gutted your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp, tears slipping down the old salty trails as he doesn’t stop, his head lulling on your shoulder.

He leans down, nose brushing against yours as he pants, thrusts never faltering, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb. He closes his eyes, because of the volcanic eruptions of fever still goes through his body—his orgasm is long, raw, reaching all his body senses.

Sex is unthinkable without roughness tonight—he is already thinking about his second orgasm—should he just cum in your mouth when he makes you fall to your knees… or if he should take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load. Of the few times Soldat has face fucked you—gagging you to near vomiting—you’ve never miss a drop of cum. He remembers it.

His hand closes around your throat and the grip tightens, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. Your head is spinning, ears are ringing—suddenly, without warning, he withdraws completely, leaving you coughing and gasping for air. As you try to catch your breath, you feel him get up from the bed which urges you to come back to your senses faster.

In his temporary madness, an idea comes to his mind.

In seconds, he is back on top and when your vision finally clears—his lusty orbs descend to your cheeks, detailing your skin before leaning in to lick off your tears—some form of mercy which you don’t need.

He is now in that state of fire that excites you. You want to be burnt.

His eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and he smiles, nova-flare eyes blazing into your own—you look for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, and you find nothing but possessiveness.

But something is not right.

His eyes are cold and dark.And your heart stops.

He is taking you over. Staking a claim.

He slowly thrusts his hips forward, his cock pressing into your front, earning a squeal from you as he ruts back and forth dragging his length across your opening and then slowly plunges into you. You exhale, trembling as you feel the tip pressing against your opening and penetrating you. He is mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

Bucky brings both of your wrists above your head and grips them in his metal arm, restraining you from moving them—and you tremble like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf—he seizes you as boldly as Soldat used to capture his favorite prey—you—in the past.

A flash blinds you for a moment and you see him holding his phone—this feels surreal—leaving you breathless with an inexpressible delight of it. Bucky’s inner voice of lust speaks, it is so spontaneous and unannounced. Your mind searches for the logical thought of his action.

“Fuck, I can cum just by looking at it” He musters his primest tone, throwing the device to the side.

You whimper as your abdomen contracted painfully around his hard length at his words. He lets his fingers release your hands as his cold digits swipes back the hair from your face. Cursing, he grips the back of your neck and brings your lips to his while the metal ones grip your hip so tightly you are sure he’d leave a bruise. You whimper as he starts to fuck you, slamming you into the matress.

The usual warmth of his hands is not there. They chill your skin as they hold you close to his body, and you realize he is scared. The extreme joy mixes with the bone-crushing grief—what if you don’t want to be around him after this night? What if you condemn him, consider it with high and unjust resentment and leave him? It pierces his soul, but he can’t stop—he is half agony, half animal...the past beats inside like a second heart now.

Your soft fingers trail his face and continue to attempt a connection that he refuses to acknowledge at first—the past slips and vanishes like sand between the warm touch of your fingers, acquiring material weight, only in its recollection, because the more shared past there is in any relationship, the more present you need to be for each other.

“Let go," you whisper and he loosens the grips—he is ashamed of holding you so tightly "No, not of me," you say smiling.

You look right into his eyes, right into him as far as you can see, because you want him to hear you, you want him to hear you with everything you say—and his chest tightens as if some euphoric drug has gone straight to his nervous system—but it is not the pollen, it is you—reassuring him, leaving a psychic imprint in his mind.

It’s both a blessing and a curse to share the same trauma. And even though you are sometimes harsh, restless and despairing—he is your weak spot, you love him in your own way.

"You can hold on to me as long as you want. Let go of the past, let go of the pain" you say, giving him permission, taking him into your flesh, a clear invitation to madness.

Emotions clamp down on his heart, but he stays terribly silent. Bucky says nothing after that, only your name, as if your name is not a name but a question. He shakes his head and kisses you, long and quiet.

He grabs your jaw in one hand forcing you to look at him, tears coursing down your cheeks as he thrusts into you, making low, growling noises in his throat—a predator purring with pleasure while it devours its prey, picking up a brutal pace once again. Your legs tighten around his waist, hooking over his hip bones as he practically folds you in half, nails digging into his back, surely breaking his skin with your manicured fingers.

He groans at the pain and removes your hands, intertwines his fingers with yours, pins your wrists flat to the mattress on either side of your head. He holds himself up over your body as he fucks into you, supporting his weight on his forearms. His cock is slamming into you, balls bouncing against your clit just right, the sight of his well-muscled body, covered in a thin layer of sweat, invites you to utter depravity, it is what drives you over the edge.

“You look so good taking all of me” he pants against your throat “I will fill you again-so good”

Hard, long, deep trust that forces moans out of both of you.

You whimper and nod dumbly, screw your eyes tight as another wave of pleasure spread throughout your body in orgasmic tingles as he pulls his own climax with you. He presses his face against your neck as his hips lose any and all sense of tempo and when he finally stills, he holds himself deep inside as he leans back—with every breath, your bust heaves, sweat droplets running between them and attracting his gaze.

It pollutes his mind even more, it cripples his morality, because he is infatuated with fucking you like this again—is it the pollen at this point?

''Bear with me'' He murmurs, gritting his teeth ''I need…more” his cock slowly sliding out of your tight pussy before sliding back inside with equal slowness, sliding through copious amounts of thin lubrication and cum. Your legs wrap around his waist and prevent him from pulling out even if he wants to—your understanding, your willingness is a kind of ecstasy to him.

The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put your finger on. What is he thinking about?

A part of him cares about you.

But there’s a depravity in his mind right now that enjoys seeing you like this—your hair is in disarray, several tendrils scattered across your face and constricting your view of him, sweat pricks at your hairline and down your back. There is something unmistakably exultant in turning you into a mess—such a mess of cum and tears. Gently, he brushes the tendrils out of your face, tenderness in his touch—that’s the part of him that cares.

“I need you on the floor, on all fours” —that's the part of him that's deprived tonight.

You can feel the desire. The thirst. The absolute beast threatening to tear from his skin.

Soldat loved to fuck you against solid ground. He never truly left, sometimes Bucky is on the verge of cracking and showing the color of the thing beneath, but you don’t mind, you are not scared, you never were.

All he wants is for you to be filled, marked, bruised from staying up all night, taking his cock into your body until you are depleted of all your strength. Even then, he will fuck you. He doesn’t say more, but he groans as he gets up—what a sinful twist of his lips, watching you slowly get up, your legs are incapable of supporting your weight much longer.

Your cunt hurts, too—you feel his cum dripping down your thighs, making yourself position in doggy style, legs winched apart, everything exposed to his view and he goes to stand on knees behind you, eagerly holding up his cock then he lines up your hole. He twists your hair around his fist and yanks your head back, at the same time thrusting into you from behind as his fingers slide to dig into your ass.

Bucky grunts as he slams into you “Я без ума от тебя” (I'm mad about you) his balls slapping against the sensitive nub. You choke on your words, this angle allowing him in far deeper than before. You arch your back more and dig your nails into the floor, clawing at the dirty ground as he relentlessly pounds into you. Sweat drips down his neck as he watches himself entering and exiting you.

He grips your hips tightly, slamming into your snatch with ferocity. A wave of pleasure suddenly overwhelms you, and the tingling is growing stronger once more.

“Я предан тебе…ты моя девочка”(im devoted to you)...(You are my girl)

You can only mewl and gasp as you are rocked back and forth on your knees, losing your breath every time his cock hammers into your cunt. You clench around him when you hear your full name spoken in his gravelly tenor.

He molds his front to your back, spearing through your tightening pussy. He grabs your hair and snaps your head back roughly before it travels down around your throat and squeezes tight while his other palm splays across your stomach.

His lips rests on the back of your shoulder, hissing

“Очевидно, что , нас чувства друк к други” (You can’t deny what's between us)

He carries on rutting you like an animal. Your skin slapping together, your pussy squirting around his cock as it invades your snatch repeatedly, making suction squelching noises with every thrust in of his length. It keeps on hitting your cervix, your nubile breasts swing with the force of your body rocking—you know that you will be sore later.

"You fill my heart, I fill your cunt"

But his words strike every inside your body and his honesty brings the euphoria of complete surrender.

“Enough, stop, it is too much”

You plea and nearly asphyxiate on the words as your orgasm bursts upwards from your abused cunt. A sob wracks your throat and he continues thrusting, riding your orgasm until your entire body is convulsing and you are desperately trying to wiggle out of Bucky’s arms with the last of your strength, but it's not enough compared to the strength of his arms holding your hips with renewed vigor, determined to breed you.

You catch sight of him from your peripheral vision, his eyes closed, his lips are silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands grip your hips, fingers digging in, the way he fucks you. And you thought that he chose that position, because he was embarrassed, but he was not—he wanted to disguise from you how much he was enjoying himself.

You have the strength to kill him, but here you are—so obedient.

His little submissive.

His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind.

“James”

His name on your lips sooth a place deep inside him, and the urgent need to hear it in again pulses in his heart, making himself guilty of such a secret, he must perforce hold it—

—but he shamelessly let out a loud moan, he never felt so out of control. You are a disease worse than the pollen itself.

“Bucky”

That makes him groan like an animal, noises coming out of him that you never heard before, he was never this vocal. The groans are desperate, endless, but the sound of his name is unspeakably erotic to him. He can’t get enough of this. He will die without it, without you.

“You look too pretty when you’re getting fucked like that” he blurts out, without even thinking.

There is already a fissure in his mind and madness just rushes through. Praising him puts him on edge, it’s something he never thought he wanted or needed. You wreak havoc on his life.

He squeezes his eyes shut—to utilize the entire spectrum of the other senses, moans of ecstasy crescendos and his breaths come in short instances, each with a slight pause in between as his body is rack with his orgasm, cum is flooding out of your cunt, dripping of you onto the hardwood floor and there is a charm about it that makes it unspeakably desirable for Bucky.

In this stillness, he finally finds serenity.

All you want to do is crawl back beneath the mound blankets—he gently picks you up and you smile crookedly at him, something about your smile loosening a knot in his chest, because holding you in his arms is more natural to him than his own heartbeat.

Morning came in through the blinds cutting everything into ribbons, but the light can make the most vulgar things tolerable—you are aware of the aching hips, and your whole body hurts like hell as if you have been run over by a train.

Bucky steps out of the bathroom, freshly showered with a white towel around his lean hips. He takes a half step toward the bed, and his jaw works for a moment before he asks

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired, did you tell Sam what happened?”

“No, of course not. He is thankful that you helped us” He says and rakes his fingers through his damp hair, making it stand on end “He invited us to Louisiana”

You barely resists smiling at him “Okay”

He raises a brow “Just like that, okay?”

“If you give me my bracelet back”

You both look at the bracelet around his right hand. Then he bites his lip as he grins.

“Not happening” he says, his tone flattening and he can't help the smirk that tips up the corners of his mouth.

“Guess I need to buy a new one then” You peel back the covers, indicating for him to get in and you watch him climb next to you “With your name on it”

His palm reaches up to wrap around the back of your head, his fingers tangling in the depths of your hair, pulling you closer, his lips hovering over yours. Everything about him pleases you.

Not just his looks, but his patience and his kindness. He is an obsession waiting to happen. Kissing him is terrifying, breathing the same air makes your knees weak, a liquid sensation swooping throughout your stomach—but you've been betrayed, stabbed by every single person in your life, the body heals, but it injures the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime. You are scared of love, scared of these new feelings, scared of trusting anyone, but you are trying—that’s why you gently press a kiss to his mouth.

(Her kisses are deliberate and polished. When she kisses me—she doesn't want me. She has me and knows it.)

Bucky throws himself onto the couch next to Sam, slewing his eyes over to him.

"So you are sleeping and living together, but you are still not in a relationship?"

He takes a long sip of his drink when he hears the words, tips his head back against the couch, and decides he could…maybe live with that.

"Yeah"

Sam’s lips tighten to suppress a smile "That's a bit weird, Buck"

He chuckles, low under his breath "The part where I live with my ex-coworker or the part where we sleep together?"

James takes a deep breath, and Sam can see his blue eyes searching for his, like he is looking for an answer.

”Maybe it is what it's meant to be for now” A frown settles on Bucky’s face as he considers that “She has a lot to experience, too. If you pressure her with anything, you might lose her completely”

“I don't want to be in love, but she is making me, Sam” he sighs, a headache blooming right between his eyes. He rubs at the spot, stalling as he tries to figure out what he wants to say “But you are right, she needs to heal”

Several emotions swirl in Sam’s eyes. Worry, sadness, maybe even intrigue. But not judgment. Never. “Did she agree to go to Wakanda?”

He wets his dry lips and says the most basic truth:

“No, she is too untrustworthy, I can’t believe she even agreed to come here”

Sam sees it as hope—and he wants to put that light within his friend, too “But she did”

They can’t talk about it anymore, not when they hear you, Sarah and the kids coming back, and when your gazes meet, your soft smile and the look in your eyes, they are the best interpreter of your mind—you are truly happy, seeing you like that makes him feel like he can single-handedly vanquish an army.

He has outlasted all family, desires, dreams, his grief alone is left entire—sometimes visiting the lonely desolation of nightmares, they are gleamings of his empty heart—Bucky is a heap of ashes, but meeting you—kindled him back into fire.

Oh my goshhh thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this project!

More of this ex!Asset AU? - MASTERLIST

1K notes · View notes

srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 11 months

Text

The List (1)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Not Beta’d. I was going to conclude this with an actual ending, but it was getting long so I’ll let the readers decide how it ends. If enough people are interested, I might do a part 2. Comment if you want a part 2.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Rumors spread through the underground of New York like the plague. Four murders of New York's most elite in the past 72 hours. Floating around the city was a list of names, a hit list for anyone involved with the mafia. Bucky was no stranger to a threat on his life. Being a mob boss, he constantly walked a thin line, a trapeze artist always one slip away from falling into the hands of death. Bucky had the resources and power to not be taken out so easily. If his name was on the list, he’d be toward the end, but no one knew home long the list was or who was on it. His team had spent the past 3 days searching the city for any information on the list. He had to know who was on it.

“Mr. Barnes, sir,” Peter Parker stammered, catching his breath in the doorway. Peter was a prospect, a good kid with a good head on his shoulders. Bucky couldn't understand why such a gifted kid was so eager to join the mob. Regardless, Bucky couldn’t be happier to have such potential, but the kid picked the wrong time to join them. “We have a lead.”

Bucky’s head snapped up from his desk. He had been engrossed in his own research on his laptop that he had forgotten about his men’s quest. Peter’s spine went rigid under the mob boss’s intense stare. He had yet to get used to it. Peter was certain that was why Bucky’s right-hand man, Steve Rogers, had sent him to retrieve Bucky. Well, that or it was part of Sam Wilson’s attempt at a joke to haze the new guy. Either way, Peter had been a fan of Steve growing up. Steve usually was the face while Bucky worked in the shadows, which only made Bucky more intimidating to Peter. He respected Steve though which is why he found Bucky without hesitation.

“Follow me, sir.”

Standing abruptly, the chair Bucky had been sitting in crashed into the wall behind him with a loud bang. He smoothed his rough palms down the front of his pristine white shirt before straightening his black suit jacket. Without a word, he extended his hand behind Peter, encouraging him to lead the way.

Peter anxiously peered over his shoulder the entire way down the hall. He thought he might have been walking too fast, but Bucky’s pace never faltered. Bucky was hot on his heels, always one step behind him. Stopping unexpectedly outside of the boardroom, Bucky hissed nearly crashing into the teen. Before Bucky could reprimand him, Peter explained, “Before we go inside, Steve told me to give you a message.” Bucky’s shoulders relaxed a bit leaving Peter relieved his boss wasn’t going to chew him out. Still, his own dress shirt began to cling to him with the amount of sweat he was producing. Bucky may have relaxed a bit, but his posture was always disciplined, predatory, and intimidating.

“Spill it out,” Bucky huffed, his hands resting in the pockets of his slacks.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Peter nodded, “Right, um- He said don’t do anything stupid and that we need her.”

The jaw of the boss twitched before he stormed past a confused Peter. His hands pressed into each of the double doors using his full force to slam the doors wide open. All eyes snapped to Bucky as he strode into the room, confidence and determination oozing off of him. Peter ushered in behind him, awkwardly failing to close the doors several times before succeeding. A string of apologies escaped his lips as he stepped further into the room. The serious look Steve shot Peter had him clearing his throat and adjusting his dress coat.

Sam and Steve stood side by side on one end of the room, their arms crossed. They were cautious, guarded rightfully so. Any one of their lives could be on the line. For all they knew, everyone in the room was on the hit list. Spying the woman sitting at the middle of the conference table, Bucky stalked across from her. With his eyes trained on the floor, he dragged the chair away from the table but made no move to sit down as he stepped up to the table.

When his eyes met hers, he puffed out his chest. His arms remained at his sides, his hands burrowing in his pockets. Without so much as a greeting, Bucky began his interrogation, “Who created the hit list.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, a frown etched on her crimson-painted lips. “Right down to business, huh Buck?” A smirk replaced her frown. “I should’ve known, you never were one for much foreplay.”

Bucky pressed his tongue to his cheek. He had expected this, her teasing. It was always a dance between them, one he wanted to avoid by cutting to the chase. She always knew how to rile him up, in more ways than one.

“Princess-”

‘No,” she stopped him with her hand raised, “you don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Bucky snorted, leaning forward, “Isn’t that what you are now?”

“Who is she?” Peter attempted to whisper to Steve, but everyone heard him.

Taking pity on the clueless teen, Sam answered, “She’s Bucky’s ex-wife, Y/N.”

Ignoring the other men, Y/N flashed her diamond engagement ring at Bucky. The light reflected off of the ring making it impossible to miss even from where Steve, Sam, and Peter had been standing.

“That title is pending, followed by queen,” she sassed.

It started out as a term of endearment. Y/N always had a taste for the finer things in life, Bucky’s lifestyle satisfied that craving. He enjoyed spoiling his princess, but that was all she would be. A princess, someone no one would take seriously. It had been an ironic twist of fate that she had met an actual prince after her divorce from Bucky.

Examining the rock on her finger, her signature red nail had been replaced by a nude shade. She was no longer accepting his blood money; she had a good man and clean money now. His eyes traveled back to her face, zeroing in on her red-painted lip. Her hands may be clean now, but her lips were still tainted. The secrets she could talk about his business alone could ruin him which reminded him of why she was here in the first place.

“Who created the hit list, Y/N,” he tried once again to control the conversation.

Pursing her lips, she let him.

“I don’t know,” her gaze dropped to the table, “but I know who has it.”

Finally getting somewhere, Bucky reached back pulling the chair behind him. Once he was seated, he snapped his fingers. Not a moment later, a pen and paper were placed in front of him.

“Give me a name,” Bucky demanded, pen in hand.

Y/N raised her head, the man twirled a pen between his fingers tempting her to sign a deal with the devil. Shaking the image from her head she placed her hand over his, ceasing his movements.

“It’s not that easy. He won't meet with just anyone.”

“He?” Steve asked.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Bucky isn’t just anyone,” Sam called out.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “He may very well be suspect number one. It would be bad for anyone to meet with Bucky alone.” Feeling Bucky’s hand turn beneath her own she went to pull away, but he grabbed her hand.

“What about a future queen?”

Eyeing him beneath her lashes, Y/N pulled her hand back to her chest. Noticing the hesitant look on her face, Bucky leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t a fool to think she was here willingly. She wanted something; she needed something.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Bucky asked, “What do you want?”

Thumbing the ring on her finger, she contemplated lying. She didn’t want to need Bucky, but she did. One look at Bucky and she knew he would see through any lie she would come up with, so she told the truth, “I need protection.” Suddenly she felt exposed with everyone's eyes on her. “If my name is on the list,” her voice shook. She wasn’t Bucky’s dirty little secret. People knew she was his wife, well ex-wife. She had ties to the mob and if her name was on the list or if her fiancé found out, the engagement would be called off.

After a long pause, Bucky spoke, “Get me access to the list and let me worry about the rest.”

Relief flooded Y/N. He could have turned her away. He could have blackmailed the information out of her, but he didn’t. Bucky was a rough man, but he was also kind. She had seen it first-hand for many years. Guilt ate away at her for her earlier actions. He knew she had been engaged but she didn’t need to rub it in his face. She wanted to hurt him but only because he had hurt her. A small part of her hoped he would protect her not because he was kind but because he still loved her.

Y/N was able to request a meeting with the man not even 24 hours later. His assistant had sent her an invitation, but it wasn’t for what she had been expecting. Instead, the man had invited her to a gala. He was a businessman after all, and her appearance would be good for business. At a time when she should be laying low, she was about to attend a high-press event.

It wasn’t long after Bucky was notified that he insisted he escort her. Y/N protested but he had argued that he couldn’t protect her if she was dead. That had convinced her, on one condition, they arrive separately. She was still engaged.

The event was beautiful but high glass windows had Y/N on edge. Anyone could see her. She tried to distract herself by searching for the host. There were so many bodies and no sign of the man who had invited her. In the middle of her search, a hand circled her wrist tugging her in the opposite direction. Y/N began clawing at the man’s wrist, an attempt to pry him off. When he stopped and spun around, she crashed into his chest. With her face in his chest, the unmistakable scent of expensive cologne hit her. She shoved his chest putting enough distance between the two.

“Bucky,” Y/N hissed, “you’re supposed to be laying low.”

Surveying the crowd, Bucky muttered, “I am. It’s you who is running all over the damn place.”

Y/N shook her head glaring at him. Not only did he smell good, but he looked good too. He had shaved since she had last seen him. He had traded in his white dress shirt for a black one, forgoing a bow or tie. The top button of his shirt was open, relieving his collarbone. Instead of drooling over her ex-husband she continued to glare at him. It was easier to hate him than to pine over him.

“If someone takes pictures of us together and my fiancé finds out-”

His cerulean eyes shot down to meet her eyes, “Where is he anyway? Shouldn’t you be asking him for protection? Surely, he has the resources.”

Y/N froze, her hands clutching the sides of her silk gown. “He doesn’t know,” she mumbled, then her voice grew. “He doesn’t know about the list, my past, or about you.” Bucky’s eyes softened. He had his doubts before, but he was certain now that she wasn’t happy. He wanted to gloat, to rub it in her fiancé’s face. He knew Y/N better than her fiancé did, and even better, she wanted to tell him. Bucky wanted to make a joke about how keeping secrets in a relationship was unhealthy, but he kept his mouth shut. Y/N sighed, running her hands down her dress to smooth out the wrinkles she had created. “He’s out of the country right now.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she wrapped her arms around herself. His gaze dropped to the floor, but Bucky’s remained on her.

He recognized a lonely soul when he saw one because he was one himself. His lifestyle left few people he could trust. He hadn’t always been lonely though, and neither had she. Bucky’s hand twitched to reach out and hug her, but he didn’t think she would appreciate that with cameras around. He took in her appearance and couldn’t help the squeeze he felt in his heart.

“You look beautiful.”

A giggle escaped her lips, “Thanks, Buck. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He had meant to cheer her up, but her giggle was unexpected. He missed it, he missed her. Everyone he knew in the mob lifestyle had died in the mob. It was poetic in a live by the sword, die by the sword type of way. No one got out, but she did. With his status, he’d never get out and a selfish part of him wanted to pull her right back in.

“You got out, you got away from the life,” Bucky hummed, admiration in his voice, respect.

Y/N shook her head. “No, I just got away from you.”

It was his turn to laugh, “Now if that were true, I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. I am standing here with you, not you are standing here with me. He meant it. Even if she was here because of him, he was here for her, to protect her. He put her first.

“You of all people know once you’re in there’s only one way out.”

That was it for Bucky. He wasn’t pulling her back in. She never left. They might have been divorced but they had both meant it on their wedding day when they said, “Till death do us part.” Bucky’s calloused hand cupped her jaw just below her ear, pausing. She didn’t push him away. With both hands, she cradled his jaw pulling his face down to meet hers. Their lips brushed one another, slowly at first, testing the waters. Then his other hand slid up the length of her neck, sliding back to tangle his fingers in her hair. It was a dance they were all too familiar with.

The flash of a camera penetrated Y/N’s eyes beneath her closed lids and it was like pouring a bucket of cold water over her. Quickly, she pulled away shoving Bucky’s chest when his lips tried to follow her. She was fucked, royally.

“Y/N?”

Wiping her smudged lipstick, she ignored Bucky’s lingering gaze before turning to face the new voice. A woman in a blue silk dress approached the pair.

“Virginia?” Y/N asked.

The woman waved her hand in the air. “Please, call me Pepper. We spoke on the phone yesterday. Mr. Stark is ready to meet with you. Follow me.”

Without looking back, Y/N followed Pepper through the crowd. She knew Bucky would be right behind her. She would deal with him later. Right now, she needed the names on the list. Upon their arrival, Pepper exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her. On the other side of a glass desk was one of the wealthiest men in the world, Tony Stark.

“Did I interrupt something?” Tony asked eyes darting between Y/N and Bucky. “I swear there wasn’t so much tension before you two walked in.”

Y/N sent him a tight-lipped smile holding up her left hand. “I’m engaged.”

Tony shrugged, “What you do is none of my business. Besides, something like this would be published on the front page.” Y/N’s stomach dropped. “You know what they say, all press is good press.”

“Says the man with a new woman every week,” Bucky grumbled.

Tony smiled. “Precisely, I would know.”

“Mr. Stark-”

Tony loosened the bow tie around his neck. “Call me Tony.”

“Tony,” Y/N corrected, “so you know anything about a list?”

With a raised eyebrow Tony laughed, “If it’s a list you want, I suggest you talk to Pepper. She handles all of that stuff.”

“Not just any kind of list,” Y/N took a step forward, her hands clasped in front of her, “a hit list.” From this distance, Y/N couldn't miss the way Tony’s eyes shifted to Bucky.

“Are you looking to assassinate anybody?”

Bucky held up his hands, “I’m just looking to protect the people I care about.”

Y/N stood still, watching the intense stare-off between the two.

Eventually, Tony sighed, “I don’t want to be in the middle of any of this.” He tapped a few keys on the computer on his desk before turning the screen. “You better get out of here before your fiancé sends someone.”

“What?” Y/N gasped, blindly clutching Bucky’s forearm beside her. Both of their names were written in green on the list. Beneath them were some of Bucky’s most trusted men; their names written in white.

Tony leaned back in his chair. “Green means active. You’re both next on the list and judging by the number of cameras here, someone probably already knows you’re here.”

“You knew,” Bucky growled.

Tony barely flinched. “Your names weren’t active until recently. Other people’s lives are on the line. I can’t get to everyone in time.”

“Wait, why would my fiancé send someone, he’s not even in the country,” Y/N asked, trying to wrap her head around everything.

Tony frowned. “Your fiance is the one who put the hit list out. What better alibi for your significant other’s death than being out of the country at her time of death.”

Y/N would have collapsed if it wasn’t for Bucky’s quick reflexes. He wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her weight.

“Why?” Y/N whispered wide-eyed.

Bucky wanted to drag her out of the building toward safety but was there even a safe place? People already knew their location.

Tony shrugged. “The New York mobs aren't the only mobs out there. They're all over the country, they're in other countries. There are some real higher-ups in the mafia in other countries. The mafia controls everything, it's one of the most powerful positions. Take out other mobs and you can control more area, more power.”

Y/N felt sick. When she said you never get out once you get in, she hadn’t realized how deep she was in life now. Turning to Bucky, he was already on his phone typing. “Bucky, we need to go.”

“No. I text Steve, he’s rounding everyone up. They’ll be here soon.”

Tony’s eyes widened, his eyebrows reaching his forehead. “You can’t be serious. There are cameras everywhere. This will be plastered on every news station.”

Bucky shrugged, lifting the back of Y/N’s hand to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, a quiet promise to protect her. “All press is good press.”

Next Chapter

2K notes · View notes

malum-forev · 6 days

Text

Have Had You and Lost You

I promise I'm uploading Dr.Bee pt 2 after this one, sorry to everyone who was expecting that one but I CANNOT GET OVER EX HUSBAND BUCKY.

"You'll find the juice boxes on the second shelf," You hurry around your kitchen, heels in one hand and your perfume in the other one. "He likes his juice decanted and he'll probably tell you he likes it room temperature but, Wells thinks room temperature means a little cold so you need to put one ice cube in his sippy cup."

Bucky nods, trying his hardest not to laugh. "Decant, room temperature. When did our five year old become a restaurant critic."

"Sometimes I'm afraid we made a mistake by letting him hang out at the Stark mansion." You laugh. "Every time I pick him up, he's learnt a new word and needs to use it at least three times in every sentence."

"Last time he was at my house he called Bluey exquisite." Bucky throws his head back with laughter. As soon as the sound hits your ears you truly feel, for a second, the world has stopped.

It's that same uninhibited laugh that made you fall in love with him all those years ago. You knew his years of torment had built a tall wall around his heart, and having him share these relaxed moments with you meant the world. That laugh was a special thing only the two of you shared.

But reality settled in once he asked the question you've been avoiding.

"So, who is he?"

Your bottom lip became trapped between your teeth as you thought how to answer his question. His blue eyes shifted all over your face, trying to read any expression you gave him.

Maybe you should have told him the truth but, you had been finally getting along after a long and tiresome divorce. So, you decided on a happy medium, no answer at all.

"Hmm," Bucky scratches the stubble on his chin. "You don't want to tell me his name."

"I never said that." You point out, feeling the vein on your temple throb.

"Your tell is a traitor," Bucky hums, running the back of his finger on your temple. "Maybe you don't want to tell me because I know him."

"He's no one." You turned away from him.

"You were never a good liar," Bucky says with a dry laugh. "So, I do know him."

"It's hard for you to not know someone in town, Buck."

"He's someone from around here, then." Bucky's eyebrows shot up.

He has to give it to the mystery man, never in his life did he think someone would have the balls to ask his ex wife on a date. Especially not someone who works in the compound.

Bucky and you had decided it would be best if you and Wells kept living close to him, so the change wouldn't affect your son too much. You'd decided on the town closest to the compound. A sleepy town, a couple of thousand habitants, mostly ex SHEILD agents and their families.

"You're really not going to tell me anything about the guy?"

You slip your heels on, keeping your lips shut.

"Is he a doctor? A nurse?" You roll your eyes.

He continues. "Is he in tech?"

"Better yet!" Bucky snaps his fingers like he's just had the idea of the century. "He's a trainee and I'm his direct superior. That would be the cherry on top."

"We've been on a couple of dates," You finally say something. "Three to be exact."

Bucky raises his eyebrows. "The coveted fourth date."

"Don't." You roll your eyes. "It's not like that."

"I'm not judging," He raises his arms in defense. "I understand you need to get your fix, we're all human, doll."

You groan.

"What?" Bucky comes closer, a sly smile playing on his lips. "You can talk about your sex life with me, darling. I'm not the jealous type."

"Bucky," You say, your tone warning. "you can't be the jealous type."

"There isn't anything here," You wave your finger between the two of you. "To be jealous of."

As you look back up at him, his smile seems forced. Bucky tries to keep his cool attitude up but, you know him too well to believe it.

"I left some money on the countertop so you can order pizza." You change the subject, feeling the air become tense.

"Don't treat me like I'm the sitter." Bucky scoffs. "Wells is my son too, and I can most certainly pay for a pizza."

"I- I" You stuttered. Trying to rack your brain for an apology, maybe explain that you didn't mean it like that but it was cut short by two honks coming from your driveway.

"He can't even ring the fucking doorbell," He scoffs again. "What a catch."

You turn and leave without speaking another word to your ex husband.

As hard as you tried, you couldn't get Bucky's words out of your head. It wasn't helping that your date was more interested in talking about himself and his recent promotion than even asking how your day went.

When had life become this way?

Once upon a time you were a woman who wouldn't settle for less than perfection and respect when looking for a man. You'd even walked out on a fair share of "New York's Elite", which usually meant men working in the finance district who think their dick is holy.

Which is why, when the ever so charming and chivalrous James Buchanan Barnes came into your life, you swore off stupid and unappreciative men.

Now, you're ordering your third glass of wine just so you can bare listening to the man you've accepted a fourth date from.

The dish you've ordered is now cold, and you're in no mood to listen to another word.

And just like that, your guardian angel answers your prayers.

Your phone lights up with a text from Bucky.

Bucky: Wells is fine, fed and asleep. Answer the call if you need to get out of the date.

Not even a few seconds later, your phone rings.

You barely have any time to decide whether you should do this or not. But your body reacts faster than your brain.

"Hello?" You answer shakily, holding a finger up to your date.

"Is he a field agent or a computers guy." Is the first thing Bucky says.

"Wells has a fever? Is he okay?" You say.

"That bad of a date, huh?" Bucky says through the receiver.

Bad date was an understatement. Your date couldn't care less that your son was feeling under the weather, he was too preoccupied looking over the dessert menu. But not even if hell froze over would you tell Bucky that!

"I think it's best if I come back home." You tell your date, getting up from your chair with your bag and coat in hand.

"Wait! One last guess!" Bucky says on the phone. "He's the guy who's in charge of sharpening my knives."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes." You mutter, hanging up the phone and leaving your date behind.

By the time you're back home, Bucky's leaning on the door frame holding two glasses of wine, waiting for you.

You shut the taxi's door and walk past your ex husband and into your house.

"Not a single word." You warn as you pass by Bucky, taking both glasses. You down the first one and get started on the second one.

"Should I keep guessing who the mystery man is or..."

"He's part of Banner's research team," You groan throwing your head back. "There, happy?"

"Happy that the mother of my child is dating some loser who can't even come to the door for her?" Bucky raises his eyebrow. "Of course I'm not happy."

"Well not everyone has the 40's mentality Buck." You sigh, looking down at piece of pizza Bucky heated up for you.

"You're worth it." Bucky's eyes look crystal as they look at you. "All the roses and the dates and the opening of car doors, everything I did for you was because you're amazing and you're worth it."

Words escape your mind.

"I was too much of an idiot to let you go." Bucky looks down at the floor. "But please don't let anyone who won't take the time to cherish you, have you."

"Because to have had you, and lost you, is a pain only those who've truly love you have."

Comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! Would love to hear your feedback. K thankssss BRB writing Dr.Bee pt 2 as we speak.

147 notes · View notes

marvelflame2010 · 10 months

Text

Bucky: Who hurt you?

Y/n with a black eye: Pft, you want a list?

Bucky going into over-protective dad mode: Yes, actually.

#incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect avengers #avengers incorrect quotes #incorrect avengers quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel incorrect #incorrect bucky quotes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x teen!reader #bucky x teen reader #bucky barnes incorrect quotes #incorrect bucky barnes #bucky x daughter!reader #bucky x ex hydra teenager #bucky x ex assassin teenager

978 notes · View notes

firegal19 · 1 year

Text

Bucky: *walks into Y/n’s room to see her standing on her bed*

Bucky: Y/n, why are you standing on the bed?

Y/n: It’s my room Dad. I can stand wherever I want

Bucky: *sighs* Where’s the spider? Y/n: UNDER THE DESK, PLEASE GET IT

#bucky x daughter!reader #bucky x teen!reader #bucky barnes incorrect quotes #incorrect bucky barnes #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel fluff #marvel mcu #incorrect marvel cinematic universe #incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect marvel #bucky x teenager hydra assassin #avengers incorrect quotes #Bucky x avenger daughter #incorrect avengers #Ex hydra assassin terrified of a tiny spider

1K notes · View notes

barnes1031 · 7 months

Text

Me when I find the most Damn beautiful fanfiction written in the story and Tumblr automatically returns to the main page. Now I have to search for it by tags why didn't I give it a like.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #beef!bucky barnes #beefy!bucky #bucky barnes x latina!reader #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x ex wife reader #matt murdock x you #daryl x y/n #daredevil x you #negan x you #negan x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #rick grimes x you

390 notes · View notes

georgiapeach30513 · 2 years

Text

Keys in Your Ignition, Part 16

Summary: You talk to Bucky, and figure out where you belong

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Curtis X Reader, Hayden X Reader

Rating: 😭😭

Warnings: language, talks about the MC, angry Curtis, unwanted kissing, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.2K

Series Masterlist

*Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Curtis lingers at the doorway of your room in Steve and Tulip’s apartment, while you finish tying your shoes.

“I’ve got to do this. And there’s no perfect time, so why not now?”

He nods his head, looking around your room, there were very few touches of yourself here, the room looking generic and barely lived in, “How often do you stay in here?” you shrug, standing up, you grab a very specific hoodie, smelling it before pulling it over your head. “You refusing to answer because you don’t know, or are you refusing to answer because you know you just don’t want to admit you’re always upstairs?”

“Um…we should go before it gets too late.”

“Doll, how often are you in my brother’s apartment?” he gets another shrug, but this time a giggle. “What?”

“He has a spare room.”

“And where do you sleep?”

“Stop asking me stupid questions, and lets go.”

“Wait,” standing solid in the doorway, he refuses to let you pass him, “Don’t hurt him. I know that I’m always worried about you, but don’t hurt him. My brother is a good kid, and I can’t have you going between him and Bucky.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. I’m…I can’t move forward with Hayden until I know, you know?” he tilts his head to the side, not understanding what it is you’re saying. “If I want to fully move forward with Hayden, I have to fully close the door with JB. Him and I both deserve that. Hayden deserves that, too. He deserves the world, and I can’t give him that right now.”

“Fine. If you break my brother’s heart, I’m just going to…”

“I’m not fucking you.”

Curtis stares at you unblinking, before dragging your body to the door, “You had to say that. I can tell by the way he looks at you, that he’s thought about it,” playfully you smack at his arm with a laugh. “Oh, come on, you know Hayden has thought about it, and so have you. It’s healthy to wonder what sex would feel like with someone you feel attracted to. So don’t feel bad that you’ve thought about my brother naked.”

“Ugh! Shut up,” for once, you’re actually excited that it’s the truck you’re driving, instead of the bike, it was a cold December day. “This is not appropriate talk about your brother, Curtis!”

“Just tell me you’re hopelessly…”

“Shh! It’s bad enough you caught us making out, I’m not telling you more,” you walk past him, pointing at the front door, and waiting for him to join.

“That was making out? Oh, sheesh, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

“It was our first date!”

“Hey,” he stops you from fully going out into the hallway, pulling you back into him, “I’ve never seen you smile so big than when you’re around him,” you try to shush him again, but he walks past you in the hallway, “I know, he adds to your happiness, he doesn’t take away. Let’s get this over with. I’ll kill everyone in that club if this goes bad. Doll, you know what you’re walking into. This isn’t what you’ve been living with? You’re going back into the belly of the beast.”

“I know. Just let me breathe, okay?” he nods his head, opening the truck door for you to get in. Starting a slow count of your inhales and exhales. You could do this. You had to do this.

Curtis looks at you as he puts the car into park. Your eyes roaming over the bikes, and noticing that not only is Bucky’s here, but so is Ari’s.

“You don’t have to do this,” Curtis says softly, but you’re already opening the door. Waiting on him to join you before you walk into the club. Walking into the haze of smoke, the smell of beer and cheap whores, and right at the front is Ari.

He pushes aside his woman for the evening to walk up to you, his arms held out wide for a hug, and he looks you up and down with a smile. Extending a hand out to Curtis, “He let you off his leash?”

“Curtis isn’t my keeper. I chose to come here, just like I can choose to leave.”

“Easy, Doll. I’m not here for an argument. You look good. You look happy,” he steps back from you, never offering another touch, and you smile at him with a bashful nod. “Why would you come back to a dump like this then? Didn’t you want to get out? Your prince got you away from here, and now you’re crawling back.”

“Where’s JB?” Ari clears his throat looking to the rooms. “Curtis isn’t my prince. He is my friend.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. Seriously. You look good, kid. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. Stay away from here. And away from those rooms. I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

Your face falls when you look back to the rooms. Taking one step in that direction before stopping, “He’s…he’s not been the same.”

“I don’t control his happiness.”

“I know that, but,” he gives a tug to your arm when you move towards the rooms to see him, and you stop, “Doll, just go back wherever you’ve been. Leave this place, and never come back.”

You pull his hand off of you, and jog off to Bucky’s room, shocked to see him sitting on the floor, taking a long drag from a blunt, “JB?”

“Doll?” he tries to get up, but stumbles before he gets to you. Righting himself, before engulfing you in a hug, “I knew you’d come back to me, baby. I knew you’d work things out, and come back. I,” hearing his bathroom door open, he winces.

“Bucky, I don’t have any clean clothes to wear.”

“Just get something of mine, dammit,” the blonde girl looks confused looking at you, but chooses not to comment. Grabbing up a shirt of his and scurrying out of his bedroom. “That’s not what it looked like.”

“Looked like Courtney. The girl who was stealing from the bar. Glad to see she had consequences,” you look around his room, and it’s a disgusting mess. Your breathing starts to pick up, and you look towards the floor. “I was taking punishment for something she did, and she ends up in your bed. And it’s not even the fact that it’s your bed, you’re free to do what you want. It’s the fact that it’s her!”

“Like you weren’t in Curtis’,” you take a step back from him, unsure if this was even worth it. “Doll, don’t worry about them. This is about me and you.”

“No, this is about them. All of them. And no, I wasn’t with Curtis like that. God, y’all are all the same. It’s always about who I’m laying under. I haven’t been with anyone. Not like that. I…I was dealing with my shit, and…and y-y-you’re just doing shit. You thought that…that I was going to come back and run right into your arms? I-I-I can’t be here,” your body trembles with anger and just hurt. Turning to leave, but he pulls at your arm, and you sling him away.

“What are you talking about? Doll calm down,” he tries to touch your arms again, but this time you push him back. “Doll, stop.”

“I’m not staying here!”

“You mean with me? You’re not staying here with me?”

“And you won’t leave with me. We’re two different people,” he shakes his head no at you, pulling you closer. “I’m not staying.”

“No, you came back to me. Doll, please, don’t do this. That stupid slut is no one.”

“There’s always going to be some stupid slut. I can’t stay here, and I won’t. Get off of me,” he pulls you closer, pressing his lips against yours, and it feels cold. An almost desperation on his part, but you hate it. There was no warmth, and you try pushing him off of you. “Bucky, stop! Stop!”

“Don’t leave me,” he gasps for air, moving his lips to your neck. “You’re always going to come back.”

“Bucky! Please, stop. I’m not in love with you anymore. Stop!” his kisses press harder, and you know with him and this place, you were never going to get a choice. It was always going to be someone making up your mind for you. “Stop!”

Curtis slings the door open, and pulls Bucky’s arms off of you, and pushes you behind him. His large hand runs down your face, wiping away your tears, and asking if you’re okay.

“I knew it. You took her away from here, so you could get your hands all over her! This is why you’ve got me so fucked up. One bed to the next. One bike to the other.”

“She doesn’t owe you a fucking explanation. But we’re not together, and if we were, it would serve you right. You don’t get to tell her what she’s going to do.”

“She wouldn’t listen anyway. Why did you come back? To rub it in my face that you’ve moved on again? I fucking screwed you up in the head? You were the one that screwed me up! You don’t get to come around here making me promises, and…”

“I never made you a promise. I came to apologize. You’re the one that mistook this visit. I wanted to clear the air, Bucky. I wanted you to step up for me then. I needed you to step up for me, and you just fucking used me. Did I ever mean anything to you? I’m always going to be your excuse, huh? It’s always someone else’s fucking fault!” he flinches towards you, but Curtis pushes him to the ground.

“Sober up. Doll, are you ready?”

“Bucky, I’m sorry. I can’t stay here. I won’t be an old lady. And you won’t leave. There is no us. I’m not doing this now, or ever. I got better for me. You wallowed in self pity. I won’t watch you drag yourself down further. Do better. Goodbye, Bucky.”

When the door closes, he throws a beer bottle at the door, letting out a scream, and Curtis holds tighter to you, “Curtis, I’m cold,” Curtis drags you into the truck, and doesn’t stop until he gets to the apartment building and watches you run to Hayden’s arms. You needed your warmth. Your comfort.

Hayden opens the door, looking confused, but pulls you in tight, looking at Curtis questioningly. “Haydes, I’m cold.”

“Let’s get some tea,” Curtis follows the two of you in, but you walk directly to his bedroom, pulling him in with you. “Doll face, what’s wrong?”

“I just,” you know sex is not the answer, and Hayden means more to you, than a way to forget. “I just want you to hold me until I fall asleep.”

Hayden stays with you, until you’re curled up into a ball fast asleep. Staying a moment, before walking back out to the living room, “You’re still here?” his feet shuffle around. Looking back at his bedroom door, he turns back to Curtis. “Who hurt her?”

“She’ll have to tell you.”

“It looks like — like she had a breakup. Was she…Curtis was there someone else?” Curtis shakes his head no, and taps on the couch beside him. “No, you tell me that nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened. She went back to the MC, and she officially left. Told everyone she wasn’t coming back,” Hayden sinks onto the couch, still not believing Curtis. “It’s more complicated than that. But unless your name was Everett, she didn’t talk to them for nearly eight months. There wasn’t another man. Just a past. And she shut the door to the MC for good,” Curtis stares blankly at the tv that neither of them want to turn, and he thinks about his role in the club. There was a reason he never had a steady woman. He wasn’t like them. He would not disrespect women the way that those men did. Even the ones that claim to be in love.

He wondered how many times you had told Bucky to quit. How hard you had tried to push him away, and just what was running in your head during it. He might never know how you were terrified that the moment with Bucky would push Hayden away. That the only thought running in your mind was how your vision of a future changed, and Bucky wasn’t part of it. Or just how much it hurt to fully lose your first love, and a life you thought you you would be stuck in, be gone in an instant. You wouldn’t be back, and Bucky didn’t want to join you. He wanted you to join him.

“Curtis, she scares me,” Hayden whispers looking back at the door.

“Why?”

“I’m falling fast. And I don’t want to lose her or what we’ve had. And I know I walked into a mess, but I don’t care. She is worth it. If she’ll have me.”

“Kid, I think you’re going to be okay. Just take things slow. She needs time to learn you, and know your boundaries as a couple. You speed things up, and she’s likely to pull away. Keep it sweet. Keep being her comfort. She stopped saying she was cold when she was around you. I don’t think she realized that it wasn’t a literal cold feeling, she needed her warmth. She needed you. Hey, where are you going?”

Curtis looks at Hayden when he goes to stand up, “Going to bring her some warmth. You can sleep in the guest room. She won’t be going anywhere.”

“Hayden, easy on her.”

“I know.”

Masterlist

#keys in your igntion #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes breakup #ex!bucky barnes #biker au #harvard hottie #hayden everett x reader #hayden everett #hayden everett x y/n #hayden everett x you

74 notes · View notes

buckrecs · 1 year

Note

Do you have any "exes to lovers" Bucky fanfic recs for me? 🥹

Exes to Lovers

masterlist | req masterlist

I would never leave my bby boi . .. …🧎🏻‍♂️but these fics were so good

ONESHOT

even more by @real-jane

The love of Bucky's life left months ago. After months of agonizing over what it meant to be apart, they wonder if it's possible to find their way together again.

Understudy by @wkemeup

Bucky knew after he'd ended things, you'd eventually move on. But when he's confronted with the reality of you with another man, he's certain it will tear him apart

goodbye by @lovelybarnes

“enemies to lovers with bucky”

Promises, promises by @babyboibucky

You believed that promises are meant to be broken but Bucky always proved you wrong. Until one day, he proved you right.

Heartbeat by @delusionalwriterr

“Call one of your exes and ask them why it didn’t work out.”

jealousy and james buchanan barnes by @bucky-bucket-barnes

You and Bucky had had an ugly breakup months ago. He mistakenly thought he had moved past his feelings for you, until he saw you hanging out with another guy at one of Tony’s parties. He appears to be having some difficulty containing his jealousy, to say the least.

and then there were none by @bucky-bucket-barnes

It had been two months since Bucky and you broke off things. In a moment of heartache and weakness, he couldn’t help but call you just to hear your voice again. You spend the night trying to patch up what happened between you two.

After All This Time by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

impending danger puts you and your ex, Bucky, in close quarters.

Yours by @jadedvibes

You broke up with Bucky right before college to pursue your career goals across the country. You didn’t think the first time you’d see him again years later would be in your office after he was arrested for a crime you know he didn’t commit.

In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning by @hopelessromantic423

After breaking up with Bucky, you miss him greatly but you don’t feel it’s your place to contact him. One sleepless night, Bucky shows up at your doorstep and you two reconcile.

morning after by @alisonsfics

accidentally running into one your roommate’s flings the next morning was sufficiently awkward. what makes it worse is when one of her flings is your ex-boyfriend.

was your favorite by @quietmyfearswith

in which bucky barnes still lives with his ex-girlfriend following their break up.

Understudy by @wkemeup

Bucky knew after he’d ended things, you’d eventually move on. But when he’s confronted with the reality of you with another man, he’s certain it will tear him apart

Incomplete by @ro-is-struggling

When your relationship started to have problems you and Bucky agreed that the best thing to do would be to break up. At the time it had sounded like the only option you had left. But now, several months later, Bucky was beginning to wonder if he had done the right thing because the pain in his heart and the emptiness in his chest only seemed to grow with each passing day.

Trying Not To Love You by @waiting4inspiration

Bucky thinks that trying to forget his love for you after your break up But he realizes that the more he tries to not love you, he finds himself loving you more

stay as long as you want by @buckysblanket

I Hope You’re Okay by @breadqueen95

Bucky is filled with doubt and confusion after the events of Endgame. He breaks up with Y/n, reacting badly to his instinct to isolate himself. She’s more than a little confused; they’d fallen in love in Wakanda. What had changed? Months later, Sam is the only connection they still have. Set during the events of TFATWS, can Sam get his idiot friends to finally get over themselves and admit how much they still need each other?

SERIES

Looking For A Heartbeat by @justreadingfics

You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left. Now, it’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

His Wedding by @jurassicbarnes

Bucky and you are exes. He moved on but you couldn’t. Since you both are still friends, he asks you for a favor – a ridiculous one. You reluctantly agree, not thinking of the future consequences you’ll have to face. You just hope everything will be fine. But it doesn’t always work out, does it?

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #winter soldier x reader #ex!bucky #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes angst #boyfriend!bucky #ex!bucky x reader #exes to lovers

699 notes · View notes

buckyalpine · 2 years

Note

I have a request!!!!

Can you do a Bucky barnes x female reader angst based on Call out my name by weekend.....

Like Bucky and reader used to date and reader have been with Bucky in ugly times but he leaves her for someone else...

But reader having a happy ending and Bucky regretting........

By your big fan 🌝

18+ minors dni

Ex bucky x reader, destroyer chris x reader

That song is sexy as hell. I know this isn't straight up cheating but this smells of Bucket to me. sigh. Okay. Here we go.

You really have been with him through everything. The absolute worst of times, holding him, cradling him, loving him through every nightmare, every breakdown, talking him through every insecurity he feels. You are his safe place, the one place he can cry and sob and be himself with no judgement.

You run your fingers through his hair while rocking him close to your body each night, deprived of sleep just like him but you'd never let him suffer alone.

Until.

He claims he needs a fresh start. The more he's with you, the more he remembers the dark sides of his past. You're special, but you remind him of every moment of weakness he's had. You don't remind him of happiness and hope. When he sees you, he sees the place he goes to cry and he doesn't want that anymore.

He just can't see a future with you.

It's over.

You're struggling to keep it together, your heart in pieces while he's flourishing, learning how to love himself now and be more independent. It's hardly been a few weeks until he has a new girl around. He thinks he's found happiness, there's a part of him that feels oddly hollow. There's something missing. He brushes it off because it'll pass and he's dating someone new anyway. She looks very much like you but that's where the similarities end. He learns that very quickly.

She's not sweet like you.

Not patient like you.

Not loving like you.

Not beautiful like you.

She's not you.

Bucky realizes his mistake very quickly, whatever stupid reasons he had for wanting to break up make 0 sense, he understands that now. He tries to have a conversation with you but it's impossible with the team standing in the way each time he comes by your room. Steve hasn't punched Bucky yet but he's very close to hitting him on the head with his shield if he comes to you one more time.

Bucky went looking for you in every girl he came across and it was never the same. You're all he can think of, and it doesn't stop him from calling you for. You can hear his cries at night, your name falling from his lips when he has a nightmare. He's whimpering and crying, he needs you back, he's so scared but he can't do anything about it, he made his choice when he left you.

He calls you for even when he shouldn't.

"Y/n..."

"What the fuck?!"

"I-

Bucky doesn't even bother correcting himself, simply getting off his newest hookup and putting his clothes back on. He doesn't even hear her screaming at him, truthfully he doesn't care, he can just think of you. He wants to call for you, he wants to be wrapped in your warmth, coming undone for you, making you feel good but it never happens.

When he sees you in Chris's arms, he doesn't know what to do with himself. Your new boyfriend won't let Bucky go near you with a 10 foot pole. He treats you like a princess. Just like you deserve. He's protective over you. He's always by your side.

"I love you sugar" He has you on his motorbike, parked outside the compound, his arms around your waist, trailing kisses down your face to your neck. "My pretty girl"

Bucky freezes seeing you both, seething watching the way his hands are stroking your waist, the waist he used to hold onto, the place only he used to be allowed to touch. When you see Bucky, your heart races. Anxiety takes over. You love your boyfriend but you can't help the new fear that has clouded your brain, a part of you is always scared he might leave just like...

"Baby, look at me" He breaks you out of your trance, his thumbs wiping away the tears you didn't even notice spill down your cheeks. "Sweet heart, I'm here" He holds you close to his chest, he knows everything that happened and he's ready to be patient with you and show you exactly how you deserved to be loved. "It's okay baby, m'not going anywhere"

Bucky hates himself even more because not only did he hurt you but you now also feared people would leave you without warning, just like him. He wants you back, every single day but it never happens.

***

Nothing gets easier, even though a part of him is happy to see you doing better. Much better. You're smiling, laughing, surrounded by the team while you look open presents, giggling at the cute little onsies and baby toys the team has brought for the baby shower. Tony got your little one a tiny custom leather jacket to match his dad. There's a set of tiny silver rings. There are way more toy motorcycles than toy cars.

You're in your own world now, with your husband, a little baby on the way.

The pain he's feeling couldn't be worse.

1K notes · View notes

samodivaa · 7 months

Text

Words don’t trigger him, emotions do

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Anger, resentment and especially, jealousy—those emotions were all he knew while you both spent decades at Hydra.

Warnings- angst, jealously, mental struggles, smut, possessive sex, love bites

Words- 3400

⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄

And his love has its own dark morality when rivalry enters in, when another man dares to flirt with you and Bucky shall show well what he shows best.

“Hello, snowflake" he says "Hope I'm...interrupting”

There is an intonation so bitter and so imperative that the man who you are talking with shallows hard. The words which are set in the air—in themselves they are simple and sweet. But his jealousy, protectiveness are a living thing. Shifting, changing, growing.

"Do you know the man?" he asks politely, blue eyes burning with violence.

There is a natural comorbidity between possessiveness and jealousy, between the desire to fuck and the desire to kill.

„Yeah, I do,“ you reply and Bucky feels alone in the moment your eyes break contact—and in a fever, among the walls of the bar, he looks around too, a thickening twilight peeps out in his mind.

"Who is he?" he asks in a pleasant but cold voice, now clearly less friendly than before.

„It doesn’t matter“ you smile softly, that sentence is a uttered curse to Bucky’s ears. Immediately, his guard is up.

Bucky is silent for a moment, suffocated by the situation, ringing in his ears, and the heart—it will bust.

The simplicity of your answer spreads as frost, closing off the light of his eyes. His mind starts racing once again, a nameless emotion has nested in Bucky – who is that guy?

Bucky sits on your left side before he leans on the counter next to you, with his metal hand and puts his right one on his tight, closer to his gun strapped there.

You know him, you know that behavior— this yearning to protect, tearing at his insides like hunger and thirst. It is not love. Love is warm and soft, like a bed of leaves. But this is dark, like the shade under a poisonous shrub, and it is hungry. So hungry.

You know its' name—Winter.

You're stuck with him. Not for a few decades, not for centuries. You're tied to him forever. That's why you are good at putting out his flame before it grows—the frame he still carries from the past.

Jealousy isn't a pleasant quality, apart from its inconvenience there's even something touching about it—his starless nights eyes—his face, as if it has been a dial cut in impassive stone, the dwindling of life.

You are equipped to handle what he has, both past and present—package deal of both. In other words, you have been assigned a load you can handle.

“Bucky-”

“Let's go home, it’s getting late” he interrupts, in a soft, vicious voice.

“Give me ten minutes”

He feels like a thread has come between you when he hears your answer, tugging, tugging at his heart—so hard, it hurts him.

You glare at each other. He closes his eyes, because there is a petulant woundedness with which he stares back at you.

Neither of you say a word until Bucky moves, leaning back against the counter, and folding his arms over his chest. It takes all his concentration, to keep from ripping out this man’s throat. But Bucky shoves the familiar fury down, to the place where he stifles Winter's power.

“Okay”

He says as he looks over to the man, and wants him to say something mean so he would have an excuse to shoot him. Bucky is something dark and beautiful, in conflict with what he shows to the world and what he truly feels inside, it is hard to control it.

A worry deep in you stir, but you ignore it for now, pushing it down as best you can with the distraction of music and whiskey.

You fully turn to the man and all Bucky wants is your full attention. He wants your gaze to stay fixed on him, only him. He wants to stare into those beautiful eyes for as long as he lives.

Every avalanche begins with the movement of a single snowflake, and you are this Snowflake tonight.

When the ten minute mark hits you hear a quiet screeching sound—he has carved a small heart on the counter with his index metal finger—you can’t believe how jealousy has him gagging, his blue eyes are clouded before he lowers his gaze to the floor.

Snow is super soft, bottomless and amazingly light, yet supportive—until you take a wrong turn and feel every crystal reacting within your soul, suffocating you. Bucky has lost himself in the emotional storm: it takes so little this time, to put fuel in his cynical heart.

“Bucky…” you whisper and your eyes meet, his actual humanity can’t seem to triumph over the rage and jealousy this time, something you hardly imagine in your wildest dreams.

And this is the secret you both share—the kind you don't dare to let out—Words don't trigger him, but emotions do. You can’t leave them unnoticed, unattended and unsolved.

“Let's head home”

Your language has been lost for so long at Hydra. But not the gestures. It is almost comforting, this mutual acceptance of understanding each other without the need for words.

He maintains his silence, but he slowly gets up—he doesn’t look back, he knows you are following him closely. Of course you do, but you think about what has just happened

While you were looking into his eyes, there were fragments of his inner struggle that were deeply repressed—he always tries to repress the past. It’s hard to distinguish if they were buried inside because dealing with them was such dirty work, or if he was ashamed to voice them.

The truth is that he would rather dig his own heart out, with a knife, than admit it. A while ago he let you know that it's hard to control certain emotions—but he didn’t want to throw his intimacy in front of you, especially when he cares.

But nothing stays secret forever

You are trying to heal too, but, finally, there are things which he is afraid to divulge even to himself—he needs you, he needs your reassurance, he feels like someone will snatch you from his hands, damn his split personalities and untrustworthy habits from the past, but he can’t help it, it scares him.

You are both unearthed by deception, torture, brainwashing, whose essence was shrouded by Hydra—your own father naming the Winter Soldier program after his own daughter, you, stringing you with Bucky together—the yearning theme of your life.

After you escaped Hydra, you went your separate ways until he came back to you, searching for someone who understands him.

That was a year ago.

The more he thinks about it, the more he wants you, the more my desire rises and swells—

“Bucky” He shakes his head in exasperation, not stopping as he climbs the stairs to your shared apartment, aiming for the door, but he can’t stay with you, not when he is not fully himself “Bucky, stop, talk to me”

You have known him for so long, you can see the pride through his words, the truth through his silence, and the anger through his smile.

Always.

“Soldat“ he turns to you, perusing your body as he comes to stand in front of you, his abysses as deep as those of love, finally meet yours.

That realization takes about a nanosecond to register in Bucky’s brain before the real important information comes to the forefront—you’ve noticed.

He lowers his head toward you, so you could feel his breath warm against your skin, your mouths only inches apart

“Why did you call me that?”

He has no answer nor idea, just a never-ending list of questions, he is searching for a loophole that increasingly feels like a noose—he denies it, he tries to—you are not entitled to exposing him like that.

How hollow is it for him to have no secrets left—Bucky's love gives, and Soldat's lust takes.

His gaze, improper, is the most sensual thing he can have done at this moment, and it jolts your heart into a strange rhythm as you speak

“Tell me, how can I help?” You put your hands on his chest, your eyes still locked and an unwelcome sensation pierces you.

“You already know” he says thoughtfully as his cool gaze devours you “snezinka” (snowflake) and his lusty grin when he says that, it's sinful—and pleasurable.

“There is nothing to worry about. Do whatever you want to make yourself feel better” All you want to do is make him feel better, to drown his worries in your embrace.

Both shame and worry drown themselves in the dark eyes that stare back at him.

You.

Only you.

Bucky dreads this power you have over him.

Everything you say is exceedingly obvious, and undoubtedly true, but he feels that something more obscure, more frightening lurks in the back of your mind.

You don’t halt the hands he lays on your waist when he pushes you, backing you into the door.

⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄

1968–1969, Zhao Jianmin Spy Case

„That is going to be mass murder, send them together.“

This mission is a long, never-ending massacre, it never ends.

He is lost in your eyes, it’s eating him alive.

Corpses fill the floor, the sight of gore is peaceful in your corrupted existence. He becomes obsessed in this moment of solitude with you, he has the need to touch you and you respond with a kiss, blood all over your face.

Your wretched fate is shared, your need for touch also.

Winter’s lust betrays him as he pushes you against the wall, feasting on your lips and neck, his hands running up and down your back.

“Relax, Winter” you giggle as you gently press your fingers into his shoulders, forcing him to break the kiss as he looms over you- waiting with a predatory grin.

„I need you, Samodiva“ he slurs, eyebrows furrowed as he glances up at you. His trembling fingers touch the strings in vain, wanting to find the right notes from the fading memory, Soldat wants his soul to vibrate again; with lust, with love.

He knows you feel his arousal, your closeness causing him to grow hard, inhaling sharply, enjoying the sensations you are eliciting in him.

“I need you, too” you finally answer without faltering.

This is all Soldat needs to hear - his tongue flicking lightly over your neck once again, tracing the skin slowly, eliciting a moan from your lips, bodies acting on instinct.

A soft squeak escapes your puffy lips, the tension building up in your body too fast, too soon. Winter puts his hands around your waist, your pants already unbuckled, surrendered to him.

He wastes no time, there's no time left… his hands suddenly drop to his own pants, popping the button open and then pulling down the zipper.

The feeling of your insides drains all of his self power to not come on the first trust, he moves at an excruciating slowly pace, fucking you into the bloodstained walls, there is a glimpse of human nature when you fill the room with moans.

„I am yours,“ he whispers, his words sending a series of chills through her.

This is about him, not you, this is what he needs.

⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄

“1968, do you remember?“ he groans as he brushes his mouth against your cheek. The plea in his tone floods your veins with a whole different form of power “Just say no, snezinka-”

“This is exactly what I want“ you counter. As you arch your back, pressing the tips of your breasts against his chest, closing your eyes at the whisper of a kiss, at the hunger that ravages inside you.

He leans down more, his mouth only inches from yours. “Fuck,” the barely leashes growl of his voice rumbles up through his chest, and every nerve ending in your body flares to life.

Bucky loves seeing you pinned to the door—his control balancing precariously on the point of a knife. He tightens his hands holding you even closer, until your chest is pressed against his own, you can feel his hard cock pressing between your bodies.

All he needs is one push.

And you are about to shamelessly shove.

“Come on, I can take it” you tilt your head up to his and draw his bottom lip between yours, sucking before gently nipping him with your teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, okay” He speaks against your throat and finishes one languorous stroke up the column of your neck.

It breaches something within him, and he gives in.

Finally, mouths collides, and the kiss is hot and hard—it invades his body, abolishing any constraints and bringing to life the desire for you. It grounds him firmly in the moment and drags his body in it, too—Bucky wants to be the only thing touching you, the only thing that touches you ever again. He is kissing the shell of your ear, nipping at it gently and then soothing the nips with soft kisses.

Rage. Lust. Jealousy. Past. Preset. Every day is a reminder of how nothing stays the same, every day an exercise in variability, resilience, understating and trust.

You love the seasons, but, you must admit—at the risk of offending the others—Winter is your very favorite one. What a beautiful madness, to explore the darkness in his old self and find joy in the unearthing of such a wicked past.

He craves you, he kisses you again.

When your mouth touches his, it is like a blade glancing off metal—the darkness inside him briefly lights up with violence and rage before the emptiness comes flooding in like a black lake—you see it in his eyes.

“Let’s get inside '' he hears your whisper and he reaches up to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers. He might be lust-intoxicated, but he always cares.

Tonight, you have successfully deflected his attention from the gloomy thoughts and the contemplation of his past—his lust rushes, but his love makes him wait.

His love lasted for decades—will last for a lifetime.

Awash with trepidation, you two manage to get into the apartment, but the moment you lock the door—your back is against the wall again.

All those desires Bucky has felt in passing have culminated, growing deeper, hungrier, darker—he can do whatever he wants with you.

That through alone causes trouble below his belt.

He pulls his shirt over his head, the sight of his sculpted muscles, crisscrossed with countless scars. They have the strange power to remind you both that the past is real.

Bucky’s hands languidly roam the curves and valleys of your body as his kisses became sensual, slow and deep. There is such a luster in his eyes that you have to look away, but when you look back at him, his gaze hasn’t moved, still focused on your face.

Then he shifts his mouth to your neck for a hard love-bite that makes you cry out— the need to possess you, to claim you, he never did that before.

But even though you feel his erection stir as you press your hips against his, he doesn't attempt to resume the lovemaking in full, he catches you around your slender waist again and brings you close to whisper teasingly in your ear

“Ты - моя, слышишь?”

You begin to feel a familiar wetness form between your legs.

“Bucky,” you call out, impatient with desire.

But that exact position triggers so much delight, of the heated memory—he has all the time in the world, not as the last time.

He kisses you like he has forgotten how your mouth tastes—with a curious childish delight, kisses like wants to take you dancing.

As you pull apart, you remove your own shirt and his teeth scraping down the skin of your neck, his hands sliding around back to remove your bra, tossing it aside.

His right hand makes its way up, passing over a mark left by a bullet—your cheeks heat, and your breath hitches, but you can’t look away, you follow his hand with your eyes.

“I was not there when you got shot” he says as his fingertip skims the top of your breasts “When was that?” he uses the vibranium arm to lift one of the long locks of your hair to his lips and inhales the scent.

“It doesn’t matter”

And maybe you are right, but it stands as a reminder yet again of how you too escaped death's touch before. It was almost...normal for you back then.

Bucky takes a breast into his mouth to suck at it vigorously as you shiver in his grasp, the metal hand sides down to your waist to keep you against the wall.

You let out a small moan as you feel his hardness tighten and press even more insistently against you.

You worm your hands between your bodies, opening his jeans, freeing his length from the confines of his boxer-briefs, then reaching in to caress it and he burying his face in your neck to stifle his groan.

Bucky shudders when when you take him in your hand, stroking him painfully slowly. He allows it for several moments before hiking up the skirt of your dress to quickly tear your damp underwear.

He rubs a hand down your leg, fingers curling behind your knee and pulls it to his hip.

You instinctively jump, he catches you, abandoning his attempts of fingering you in favor of grabbing your hips, and you moan as you wrap your legs around his waist.

He loves you.

He loves you because nature wills it as it did for decades.

Because you are already long united by the past.

The bare flesh on every part of you always belonged to him, the scent emitting from your skin is his—he loves you, but he doesn't dare tell you that.

You have become Bucky’s favorite hiding place over the past year, the place he put every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, you keep him safe.

You have possessed him—and you never knew it.

He has been dependent on exactly how close he can have you next to him, how long he can get to stay at your apartment—making various excuses every time until you suggested to him to move in with you two months ago.

“Bucky,”

you tighten your legs around his waist, urging him to continue, running your hands over his shoulders.

Your voice pulls him out of what was ravaging in his mind, all those thoughts, but then he kisses as he roughly inserted his cock with no warning, you let out a surprised gasp as his forehead falls to your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips and pressing you against the wall more firmly when he bottoms out, moaning shamelessly at the feeling of your body against him.

You are made for him, made for fucking.

“I love biting you, I need it” his voice is brittle, not saying anything else.

You stare like he is something you can’t comprehend, something unexpected – willingly admitting.

Your fingers thread gently through his hair and you can’t help, but hang your jaw in bewilderment at the sight before—he is falling apart from the need to claim you, to reach the white-hot ecstasy.

You have never seen him like that.

He bites his way along your jaw to the base of your throat. His mouth is hard and punishing, lathering your skin with marks—ferocity burns in his gaze promising something primal—thrusting into you wildly, trying to elongate your pleasure for as long as possible, but suddenly he is choking on moans as waves of climatic bliss are sent throughout his body.

This is about him, not you, this is what he needs.

This night you learn about his jealousy, it has you starving to learn more about this side of him. A new hunger that you know you will satisfy only with time.

His steel blue eyes hide a nearly irresistible urge to claim you—it’s hard for Bucky to control it when the incurable desolation of Winter exaggerates in displaying old emotions.

890 notes · View notes