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marnle · 2 years ago

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Cities are destined to be cold - Bucky Barnes x Agent!reader

Summary - When a mission goes wrong Bucky is angry. You’d never gotten along with each other, a hatred deep within the two of you. Yet this mission changed the air. When your taken from Bucky, he realises what he’s lost, and how truly, you’d saved him in ways he didn’t think were possible.

Warnings - this shit sad af, quite suggestive basically smut just without the descriptive part lol. Did I mention this is sad and angsty?

A/n - YOOOO, you guys ate up my last fic, hope this is up to par :)

ALSO! My requests are in fact open!! And I’d love to write for you guys as I’m currently on winter break! Thank you all <3 have a good ol Christmas, or enjoy whatever you celebrate. Safe reading <3

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The city was different to what he remembered, he watched as the snow fell around him, painting his nose and cheeks a deep pink. He watched as the coruscating lights danced around his vision, twirling and moving as though they were one. He felt as though he was radiant, you beside him even more so. He missed the beat of your heart next to his. He missed the feel of your hands across the plains of his body, he missed the feel of your mouth upon his. He missed you more than his soul could understand, and how he wished you’d return to him once more.

It had been a month since you were taken by Hydra, a combat mission gone terribly terribly wrong, your whereabouts were unknown, physical state was unknown. The team had tried to bargain, they’d requested proof of life, yet nothing ever came. Bucky didn’t know if they were holding you captive, or had disposed of you; a strenuous attempt at destroying him from the inside out. Bucky’s heart felt as though it had been torn from his chest, his head felt as though it were an extra weight upon his neck, for he could barely hold it up.

He’d never gotten to tell you how enamoured he was with your being, he’d never told you that you were the reason he began to feel again, began to live again. All of the nights you’d spent together tangled within the sheets made him weak in his knees. You were the first person to trust him, treat him as though he walked the planet like everyone else, the first person to tell him it wasn’t his fault. And now he was sure he’d never be able to tell you that you owned his heart, his body and his soul.

It was the later hours after a formidable mission, the biggest of the year, the team had cleared out and successfully liberated one of the largest Hydra bases they’d ever come across, saving hundreds of innocent lives and gaining paramount intel that could help them even further in the future. You’d fought until your knuckles were bruised, and your body ached unlike any other. You weren’t enhanced, just an incredible fighter, so your body felt the sting of the hits you took, and the rush of the adrenaline that ran through your veins as thick as your blood.

It was the first time he ever held you.

You both weren’t exactly close, longing stares from across the room was all your acquaintanceship seemed to include. In fact, at first, you and Bucky didn’t entirely find each other appealing. You’d do something that he felt was entirely too risky on a mission, he’d voice his concerns in the form of a bellow, and you’d voice yours back even louder. Yet the day he found you in your room after the previously aforementioned vigorous mission was when the air between you both changed drastically forever.

Bucky stormed down the corridor towards your room, his steps were heavy with anger as he unceremoniously slammed his fists against your locked door. He was so incredibly frustrated with you. You’d yet again defied his orders to hang back, and ran in without any sort of cover to throw yourself in front of a group of civilians whilst Hydra open fired, whilst the team open fired. He’d screamed down the comms line so extremely loud that his voice had gravelled afterwards, yet you still didn’t listen.

“You let me in this room now, agent!” he bellowed, whilst his fists continued slamming into the wood of your door.

The door swung open, you stood in front of him, hand grasping a woollen blanket that was wrapped tightly around your form. It made you appear small. He thought you looked like the most beautiful thing to ever grace his vision. Still in your combat shirt and pants, darkened from the bloody carmine of your enemies.

“How can I be of service Barnes?” you growled, anger evident in your tight stance, and balled fists, of which were covered in bruises.

Without a second thought he strolled into your room, slamming the door behind him.

“I’m sure the door certainly didn’t deserve that.” you speculated, a smirk adorning your face.

“Shut it right now, and let me make one thing so obviously clear.” he replied, cutting you off entirely. His face was bathed in a layer of red, his usually welcoming cerulean eyes were cold and flinty. His nostrils were aflare too. It made you visibly curl into yourself, and it made Bucky sick to his stomach. It was as if you were both in a standoff, you were waiting for each other to make the wrong move in order to set alight the fuse.

Yet your posture was unnerving, you looked frail, weak, something that you’d never ever appeared. Bucky's chest felt as though a thousand pound weight was sitting upon it. You looked pale, nauseatingly pale. Yet it was you who backed down, and you never backed down. You practically limped towards the floor to ceiling windows at the other side of your room, you stumbled and threw yourself on the ground in front of them, still wrapped in your woollen blanket as if it were the only thing keeping you alive.

Bucky cleared his throat and walked up behind you. He watched your gaze as it swept over the city, the opaque lights of midnight ran across your face and features. Bucky thought you looked grandiloquent, the way your eyes were lit up like a thousand night skies. How he wished to gaze into them for eternity.

“You look unwell.” He stated stoically, as though his tone would solve all of his imminent problems. You only hummed, a small hand grasping your side blindly, as you refused to look back at him. Your face scrunched up in obvious discomfort.

“God what on earth is wrong with you?” he pressed, walking in front of you and blocking your line of sight, you could no longer see the calming lights of the city. Inducing you into the beginning of what one only could assume as a panicked state.

He stared down at you, and his eyes bore into the centre of your being, melting your metallic facade as though he were molten himself.

“I'm fine.” You managed to growl out, still grasping your side, yet with a little more vigour. You refused to meet his eyes, yet Bucky's gaze traced towards where your hand sat vacant, and widened as though he’d seen a ghost. The colour of his skin drained to a pale green.

“What the fuck did you do?” he whispered, his voice grainy whilst he kneeled in front of your form. Hands going towards your own.

Yet you smacked him away.

“I said I’m fine.” You replied, yet your waterline began to fill, your eyes began to glisten.

“You are not fine!” he replied, anger evident in his eyes, let alone his tone. He avoided your defensive arms, arms that were covered in small bruises and cuts from the battle prior. He grabbed the seam of your shirt with trembling hands, lifting it just high enough to expose your ribcage; where a large gash sat, slightly bloodied and held together by what he felt was the worst attempt at stitching he’d ever seen. He tried not to react, he wanted to uphold his angry facade as much as anyone, although a small broken gasp did escape his lips.

He practically threw your shirt back down, with so much force it felt as though the air around you had drastically moved. Bucky stood up, and strode across the room into your bathroom. You could hear him rustling through the cabinet underneath your sink. The taboo language that seemed to flow so freely from him at such a time made you breathe through your nose a little louder, ignoring the throbbing pain in your ribs.

He barged back into the room and made his way straight towards you. You simply lifted up your arms and allowed him to remove your shirt. You couldn’t care that you were practically bare in front of him, the lack of feeling in your fingers made you feel as though you were miles upon miles away. He began to pick out the awful stitches you’d attempted to do yourself as you gritted your teeth.

“Is it so goddamn hard to ask for help?” he asked as he roughly pulled out one of the stitches, causing you to groan in pain, tears forcefully running down your face, and dripping onto his hands.

“We’re on the same team, why the hell are you constantly hiding things from me Y/n?”

He stopped wrapping the bandage around your torso as his defiant glare met your own, eyes sparkling with worry. A lonesome tear ran down his cheek, spilling from his eye as your thumb met it before it could fall and join your own.

“I don't want you to worry Bucky”

He felt as if the world had collapsed around him. You even more so. He wasn’t physically able to conjure up words, the touch of your hand upon his jaw and cheek felt so powerful, one could assume you’d burnt him, so he continued to wrap the bandage around you.

As he pulled it tighter you winced and pushed away from him, the pain becoming too much to bear, you leaned on him as though he were the last pillar holding up the universe, painfully gritting your teeth so very tightly. He breathed heavily at the noise, it pained him greatly to see you in any amount of pain.

“I know it hurts sweetheart, I know, I’m so fucking sorry.” he said as he finished cutting off the last of the white bandage. He placed his large hand on the back of your head and brought you to his chest. He felt your tears wet his shirt, the same shirt he wore as a bullet grazed you and he didn’t notice. He ran his fingers through your locks, listening to your sobs quieten and your breathing even out.

“Shh, shhh..” he whispered as he rocked your shaking form, his heart splintering at the sight. His hands caressing your spine and back. His lips grazed your hairline, the soft feeling sent a shiver through your whole being, chilling you to the bone as an array of goosebumps began to rise upon your icey skin.

“Please don’t leave me.” You weeped. A thousand seas would’ve been less volatile.

“I won’t.” He whispered.

“Please don’t hate me.” you gasped, grasping his shirt within your fist, hoping his promise wasn’t a false camaraderie.

“Never.” His breath breezed across your scalp, dipping deep within the cracks of your being, mending your emotional wounds as though they were never present.

“You need to rest sweetheart.” Bucky said as he brushed away a strand of your hair that had begun to disrupt his view of your eyes.

You nodded your head as you witnessed vulnerability you’d never seen.

“Ready?” he asked.

You nodded once more as he lifted you from the ground and wrapped your body around his. His large, warm hands grasping you underneath your thighs, yet never straying too far to be considered something more.

He walked the two of you towards your bed, he felt the warmth of your breath against his neck where you tucked your head, felt the chill of your skin against his own. He felt as though he was floating himself. And he knew from that moment onwards he’d never want to leave such a feeling behind him. He sat you upon your fluffy sheets, sage green in colour with a white blanket placed on top.

“You're really cold, love.” Bucky whispered as he dragged his calloused hands up and down your ice cold arms.

“Get in with me?” You asked, peering up at him through your eyelashes. You felt as though you were committing a crime even laying your eyes upon a person so extremely angelic, never mind asking him to lay with you. Yet your mind was clouded by the voracious heat that seemed to be freely flowing from the plains of his body, something you not only needed, but craved deliciously.

“You sure? I can sleep on the floor sweetheart, it wouldn’t be the first, won’t be the last.” He asked, his eye refusing to meet yours, a fear resided deep within him, a fear that you’d see through his facade, and uncover that, yes, in fact he did have weaknesses, and one of them was placed strategically in front of him.

“Please Bucky, I promise.” You replied, beginning to remove the cargo trousers you wore on the mission, as Bucky had previously had you remove your shirt to combat your awful attempt at doctoring. You lifted the sheets and wrapped yourself within them as though they were the softest thing on earth. Like how Bucky often thought you were the softest thing on earth.

He silently nodded, too afraid to allow himself to speak, as he wasn’t entirely sure he was able to, afraid he’d let you know too much.

He began to remove his shirt, he didn’t miss your heartbeat ascending, he didn’t miss how your eyes tore him apart. You were studying him, every dip, curve, scar, burn, muscle. Yet when your eyes did leave his body, they never left his own. He peeled his pants off, the residue of the mission evident on his dirty skin. He hadn’t had time to shower. Too exasperated at your actions. Too worried about your wellbeing. He stood bare in just his boxers, slightly moving his hand in front of him to hide from your gruesome glare. Yet you simply lifted the covers, and he allowed himself in.

His chest was heavy, heavier than he believed it had ever been before, even through his trauma, this moment was the epitome of his time out of Hydra. He was elated, yet terrified. He lay flat, afraid to contract a singular muscle, it had been a long time since he felt the touch of another, nevermind lay beside one.

Yet, as though it were clock work, you wrapped your entire body around him as if he were the most tranquil, essence of life anyone had to offer. He froze at the contact, letting out a breath that was far too loud, yet, the feel of your head on his chest, along with the skin to skin contact his body so desperately craved, and rightfully deserved; he felt grounded.

He wrapped his large arms around your freezing frame, holding you as close as he physically could, not wanting this moment to fade away within his jumble of memories. He’s sure that even as a younger man he’d never felt such strong, relentless emotions. They crawled up his spine, wrapped around his torso and climbed his chest. Suffocating him.

“You’re so pretty.” You observed, looking up at his chiselled face, and lost eyes.

Bucky was sure his heart had stopped entirely beating, that the blood flowing through each valve was simply a figure of his messed up imagination.

“You know that right?” You continued, and it pushed him off the edge of the cliff he constantly balanced on, as though it were a battle for his sanity, yet his fall was far from a death sentence, but freedom.

He grasped the back of your head, and pushed his lips onto yours. He kissed you like you were the last thing on earth, he kissed you like you were the first thing on earth. He pushed his tongue into your mouth and moaned deeply when you reciprocated as such. Teeth clashed, lips were deformed in an arrangement of reds and pinks.

He dragged his lips down your neck, sucking and biting wherever his mouth met the warmth of your flesh, leaving behind an array of purple in his wake. You felt as though death were about to physically grasp your hand, and take you to where you belonged, with his presence by your side, you couldn’t care where that was. As long as his round eyes looked at you as though you were the moon and stars, you had decided that nothing else could ever matter.

He followed the curve of your body, dipping and caressing every mark and scar he’d lay his eyes on, similarly how you did not a minute earlier.

He made it to your underwear, he peered up at you. His dark locks were graciously dishevelled, sticking up from a variety of different places. His eyes were darkened with lust, and something more, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to delve that deep at this moment of time. You thought he looked beautiful, like an oil painting, the glisten of his eye made your heart practically jump from your chest. You’d never understood what love had felt like, people had described it as a leap of fate, perhaps even a fast passing of time. You understood now, you felt like the room was spinning and your body was floating. The warmth that spread across your body was unachievable elsewhere, especially as it was due to him. You knew you’d do anything for him, for the entirety of your breathing.

You nodded at him, he partially nodded back, subconsciously replying to himself, reminding himself that yes, this was real. You subtly moaned from the anticipation. The tension in the room was palpable.

He peeled your panties off of your body, kissing his way up your legs and thighs, before dipping his head deeper, making you worsen his disorderly state further, as you grasped his hair by his roots, making him groan, it was gravelly, and you’d play it on repeat until the day you died.

The night was long, filled with passion you’d only ever read about. Bucky was like a harp, his strings were heavenly, he played you as though you were one too, he knew the ins and outs of your body within an hour, bringing you over the edge time after time again until he allowed himself to even begin to feel an ounce of pleasure. He was cautious around your wound, whispering what one could call poetry in the darkness of midnight directly into your ear. Two souls were combined that night, two ungodly souls who had needed each other for years, and hadn’t even noticed it. The longing that clung to two hearts was unmistakable, and how you finally felt as though your soul was complete, well, so was his.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. He wrote to you, not directly evidently. But his soul needed to be fed, his whole was missing, the darkness he once thought would never return began to crawl towards him once more. Its claws were sharp, its eyes were red. He felt the cloud of the earth wrap around him for the last ever time.

So as he glared at the skyline, he remembered that the same skyline allowed him to feel once more, without it, he wouldn’t have finally connected with you. The snow dazed him, reminded him of your cold body that night. And how by the end of it he promised you you’d never be cold again. How he hoped he could take back such a thing, as he was sure that wherever you were, his heat wouldn’t ever save you.

He watched as the earth continued around him, cars, couples, children. Previously he wouldn’t have paid attention to them, too entirely absorbed by his own mind, that the simpler things in life seemed to go overlooked. He watched as a woman held another's hand, watched as a child threw a ball of frozen ice at their unsuspecting victim not a metre ahead. He watched as the cars carefully crawled towards their homes for christmas. He thought about how, until you, he hadn’t even slept on a mattress, he thought about how when you’d left, he’d never sleep on one again.

Perhaps he’d never feel your gaze upon his ever again, but he’s sure that somewhere, somehow, you’d meet again, angelic eyes falling to him once again. Fixing his broken being, for this life couldn’t be completed, couldn’t be enjoyed, couldn’t be fixed. He’d wish to tell you how you did fix him. But without you beside him he would go about his days draped within the cold, a cold he’d come to realise only you could replenish.

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Dayumn. Fanx 4 reading :D

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marnle · 2 years ago

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My sweet, sweet Dove - Mafia!Bucky x Fem!reader

Summary - Bucky Barnes finds the peace he so rightfully craves in his best friend, the worlds upon his shoulders, yet his lust for you lives on through his darkest of days.

Warnings - smutttt, juicy af, mentions of violence, slight alcohol consumption, grinding etc.

A/n - Hi all, my requests are open! I’ve never really published my works before, so this is all new to me, but feel free to drop a request, and I’d love to see what I can do! :)

Enjoy, safe reading! <3

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You sauntered into the kitchen, it was incredibly dark, yet a small lamp situated in the corner illuminated the majority of the room, drowning it in a blanket of rusty amber. You grabbed a small glass and walked towards the sink, filling it with cold water, it swirled around the glass as though it were a prisoner, fighting against its confines. You propped yourself up on the marble countertop, it was icy underneath you, a considerable difference to the heat that burned underneath your skin and through your veins. The deep, angered and somewhat laboured voices that previously echoed through the halls had silenced. They’d swirled through the walls, up the stairs, and burst through the windows too. Bucky had informed you that he was working late, you’d understood what he’d meant, yet the scale of debate that evidently had occurred left you feeling drained - and you hadn’t even been in the room.

Bucky was one of your closest friends, your main confidant in the times you needed him most. So when you informed him that you had nowhere to stay, he practically offered his whole life to you, and you took it with his blue eyes piercing what felt like your soul. So you resided in his main estate where he conducted his official work, his official business meetings, you knew he was dirty, and downright inequitable, but his loyalty was unlike any other, your friendship was unlike any other, and you owed him the world and more.

So as you sipped your water, and pondered the evident lack of sleep that laced your features, you didn’t hear his office door finally open after hours, or the trudge of his tired feet upon the dark wooden floor approaching, the leather of their seams making the slightest of noises.

His black silk tie sat loosely around his neck, his mountainous shoulders were tightly winded practically up to his ears, the top buttons of his previously pristine shirt were undone, and said shirt was hanging messily out of his slacks, of which sat loosely on his hips, his brunette hair was unkempt, almost spikey as the last of the gel he’d previously put in began to finally wear away.

“Doll? You alright?” He asked, snapping you out of your trance, he moved opposite to you and plopped himself shakily down on the floor with a large sigh, leaning against the kitchen cupboards behind him, his head thrown back in a show of exhaustion.

You simply hummed.

“Why are you still up?” He queried, running his large hand through his hair, absolutely destroying any remnants of orderliness it previously had maintained. Glaring at the girl in front of him almost alarmingly.

“Couldn’t sleep is all.” You replied, taking another small sip from your glass before handing it downwards towards Bucky. He accepted it, and pulled out a metallic flask, pouring a brown liquid into the mix, swirling it, then drinking it. It burned the back of his throat and warmed him from the inside out. He looked at you curiously, his oceanic eyes bore into yours in order to gauge a reaction. It was silent as you returned his eye contact, you were sure you could hear a pin drop.

“Well, hand it over.” you laughed nervously, taking a gulp of the alcoholic beverage. It also burned your throat, causing your face to scrunch up in disgust. You could hear the deep rumble of Bucky's laughter in the background, it sounded angelic to your ears.

“Bad night?” You asked, anxiously pinching the skin of your fingers as you awaited his reply, not wanting him to ever suffer at the slightest. You observed the way his jaw slightly clenched and went slack, how he breathed slightly faster at such, and slowly regained his composure not a moment after.

“Something like that Doll.” he replied, letting out yet another sigh. In complete honesty, the meeting was a mess, his business partner had backed out of a paramount deal, meaning he’d have to find a backup as soon as possible, something that wasn’t likely. This left him open to financial attacks elsewhere. He’d even lost his temper, covering his golden signet ring that sat dormant on his finger in a layer of carmine; the ring you twirled when you felt anxious. His business partner had messed up his ring, his new enemy had messed up your ring, and Bucky had made sure he paid for it.

“Is there something I could do to make you feel any better?”.

He subtly nodded, allowing his stoic exterior only to fall in your presence, something that exhausted him beyond words.

He kneeled and shuffled towards you whilst you sat upon the counter, arms open, knowing exactly what he needed. He pushed his head into your stomach, breathing in your scent, roses and fresh linen, it made him feel safe. His was sandalwood, it engulfed your scenes and knocked the wind out of your chest, just like it always did.

You placed your hand upon his head, stroking your fingers through his hair as you felt the tension leave his large body, you leaned down and placed a small kiss on the crown of his head.

This caused him to gaze up at you, a longing in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, and you were sure yours mirrored them as such.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You whispered at a barely audible level, you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

“Like what?” he replied, his voice breathy and almost desperate.

Your hands moved down from his hair towards his chin, cupping his face as though he was the last living being on earth. Your eyes fluttered between his lips and his eyes, the room was spinning, the air was thick.

“Like this.” you whispered before slowly bringing his face to yours, and placing your smooth lips over his own.

Bucky felt as though his world had stopped, his heart was erratically beating, his head didn’t feel as though it was his own, his body wasn’t his own. The tension had been snapped just as quickly as it arised, and Bucky felt as though he was on cloud nine, there and then he decided that the feel of your lips against his own was the singular most effective high he’d ever encountered, it was a high he was now addicted to, and one he’d never ever let go.

He stilled in your grasp, causing you to pull away.

“Bucky, I’m so sorry.” You muttered, a wave of red covered your cheeks, horrified at what you’d just done. Yet before your brain could sabotage you further, and convince you otherwise, Bucky slammed his lips onto yours, grasping the back of your neck in his large hands. He groaned at the taste of you, a sweetness he’d only ever imagined.

He pushed into your mouth, your teeth collided in a show of desperation and finally requited lust. You slid your hand into his brown hair once again, yet under completely different circumstances.

You grasped his hair, pulling him off of your lips, it made him groan.

“Tell me you don’t want this, tell me you don't Bucky.”

“You know I can’t.”

He picked you up, wrapping his large arms around your torso, his fingers pushed under your shirt, drawing circles upon your skin, skin of which felt as though it were a juvenile flame of the sun.

You tucked your face into the crevice of his neck, his scent was the strongest it had ever been, it blinded you, and you loved it. You dragged your lips across his neck, biting and nipping at whatever skin you could, making his groans rougher, whinier.

He’d walked you both into the living room where he dropped backwards onto the couch, you in his arms. You were sitting in his lap, he was so extremely hard under you that you couldn’t help but tease.

You slowly rolled your hips, the friction causing you both to moan in unison, in pleasure. He grasped your body as though you were his life line, and even though he hadn’t said as such, you both knew it was true for the both of you.

You continued to grind against him, you moved against each other as though you were made for each other. Your moans were beautiful, they made him lose his mind, his great intelligent mind reduced to nothing simply by your presence alone. His hands grabbed your hips for a moment, your face was directly in front of his, you inhaled his breath as though it were your last.

“Doll, I can’t last long like this.” He moaned, more like a whine, in an attempt to keep his composure.

“I bet.” you replied, causing his mouth to fall even further open in a state of disbelief, allowing you to sink your teeth into his lip, stealing even more of his sacred breath away.

Instead of slowing down you sped up, with Bucky’s hands gripping your waist so tightly, you were sure his touch was to be ingrained upon your soul. He ran his hand down towards where you longed for him most, and cupped your pussy, pushing his palm into your clit, causing you to let out a moan that echoed off of the walls, a moan he was sure he’d never forget. He ran his other hand up your body towards your nipple, and twirled it between his fingers, swapping between the two, making you feel as though you were atop of the world. The sight of you was enough for him to come right there, yet he’d only ever imagined this moment, and wanted, no, needed to drag it out for as long as possible, as long as he humanely could.

“Come on baby, let go for me.” He purred, gazing into your eyes as yours fought to stay open.

“Shh, that’s my Doll, let go love.” And you did, your body arched into his grasp, he pushed his palm even further into your clit as you came, creating such delicious pressure, you thought you were going to burst. You wrapped your arms around his body, engulfing him and curling into him to fit his form as though you were perfectly moulded to him as he came too, groaning and bucking his hips whilst his stomach and glistening abs contracted over and over again, he’d entirely lost control, the lust he felt wasn’t matched by another soul.

Your sweaty bodies sat wrapped around each other, breathy whimpers left the both of you as you fought your natural instincts to breathe. Bucky grasped your face, and silently laughed as he brought his lips to yours once again.

“My sweet, sweet Dove, how you’ve had me forever.”

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Fanx 4 reading bros :)

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