#bucky barnes x m reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sarahowritesostucky · 8 months ago

Text

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 4861

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

11. Palmiers

Bucky

Because he’s on the far end of the spectrum, Bucky’s sex drive is affected by his condition. He wakes up hard almost every morning of his life, and Steve doesn’t need much encouragement to get himself worked up into the same state very quickly. Mutual morning jerk offs were always bound to become part of their routine.

They take a shower and stand toe to toe, hands sliding and groping all over each others’ slick bodies, pulling on their cocks until both of them are shooting off against each other’s bellies. The water washes it away, and Steve gives him a deep, happy kiss. “Mmm. Mornin’.”

“Blegch. Go brush your teeth, you heathen.”

Steve laughs and gets out of the shower. Bucky stays in for a few minutes longer, adjusting the spray to its hardest setting and letting the hot water beat down on his back and shoulders. He sighs and stretches his neck this way and that, trying to get his vertebrae to pop, but his muscles are all too tight, and the stretching just seems to make it worse. Bucky drops his head in defeat. In all honesty, his shoulders and neck and back are all pretty fucked after months of near-constant use of his prosthetic.

Steve’s right: he doesn’t usually wear it this much. And he’s also right that Bucky’s been wearing it all day every day because he wants to feel powerful and able bodied in front of Mary. As per usual, Steve is the first one to have noticed what maladaptive behavior pattern he’s doing and why, and pointed it out to him. It really is for the best, Bucky knows. Because he can’t sustain wearing the arm all the time anymore. The thing is just too damn heavy.

The engineers who designed it have made tweaks and adjustments over the years. They’ve done all they can to lighten the load as much as possible, but the thing still weighs over twenty pounds. Twenty pounds doesn’t sound like much, but when it’s pulling on the same muscle groups day in and day out, everything in Bucky’s body winds up getting strained and unbalanced. He understands better now, how women fuck up their necks so badly from shouldering their purses (or their tits) around. A little bit of weight makes a big difference.

As a Dom, Bucky may have a tiny problem admitting when he needs help. He has to be in quite a bit of pain, trouble, or both, before he’ll ever speak up and allow himself to be vulnerable like that. It’s an inherent behavior that shrinks have been trying to therapize and medicate out of him since he was a kid, but nothing ever changed it much. Falling in love with Steve helped; Bucky can let himself be more vulnerable around him. But even still, it’s no small thing that he regularly approaches his husband to ask for help in getting his arm back on correctly (Bucky can do it, but it’s a pain in the ass, getting the mechanism lined up just right before it’ll take).

He gets out of the shower and dries off, then approaches Steve with the prosthesis. “Gimme a hand?”

Steve makes a cheerful noise of acknowledgement around his mouthful of toothpaste, spits and rinses, then takes the arm from Bucky. He lines it up just so, and then Bucky feels the deep shudder of the arm’s inner workings coming to life as they recognize their mate. The arm attaches and Steve lets go.

“Thanks babe.”

“Uh huh.”

It’s as Bucky’s bending over and pulling up his underwear and joggers that a spasm runs through his back and he cries out in a pained, “Ah!”

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

Gritting his teeth, Bucky slowly stands back up. He’s able to get his pants up, but when he tests the movement of his neck and shoulders, the pain flares again. It feels like everything between the base of his skull and his mid back is seizing up. “Fuck,” he hisses, frustrated. It’s his day off. He’d been planning to go to the gym for his long workout.

Steve steps up and puts a worried hand on his left shoulder. “Babe? Do you need it off?”

“No. I need some painkillers and a magnesium tablet,” he grunts, already turning around (full body, because turning his head is a bad idea right now). “Fuck.” He starts off for the kitchen.

Steve follows along with worried protests, telling him to lay his “stubborn ass” down and he’ll get it for him. Bucky ignores him and goes to the kitchen cabinet where they keep their supplement stuff. He winds up yelling again when he tries to reach up and grab the ibuprofen. “Fuck!” he says angrily.

“Babe, I said to let me do it,” Steve scolds, his hand back on Bucky’s shoulder. “And let me take this off. It’s hurting you.”

“Steve, back off,” he snaps, angry and waspish from being in pain, and from being frustrated with his own goddamn body.

“What’s going on?”

Bucky turns his head without thinking, hisses in pain, and then turns himself full-body to face in Mary’s direction. She’s standing there looking at the two of them in concern, one hand holding one of those swirly, flaky, crack-cookies that she makes, and the other holding a cup of tea. Her eyes widen at the sight of Bucky’s arm and body, reminding him that this is the first time she’s seen him without a shirt on. “Nothin’,” Bucky grunts.

“Shit,” she says. “Are you guys fighting? Is this a couples’ fight? I’ll just …” She turns to leave back towards her room.

“We’re not fighting,” Steve says. “Buck’s just being an ass. He gets that way when he’s in pain.”

Bucky would turn his head to glare at him, but it isn’t worth another flair of agony in his shoulder. “I’m fine,” he says, when Mary comes back over. “It’s fine,” he stresses. He opens the pill bottle and dumps three capsules into his palm. “Jeez, will everybody stop babying me? I just need a glass of water.”

“I’ll get it,” Steve says, causing Bucky to huff once again. “Don’t be a jerk, babe.”

“Why are you in pain?” Mary asks, her eyes tracing all over the left side of Bucky’s scarred up body. “Is it … does your arm hurt?”

“No. It just fucks up my muscles, sometimes.”

“Your muscles?”

Bucky sighs impatiently. “Steve, do you know where the heating pad is?”

“I’ll have to look.” Steve has returned with a glass of water, and Bucky tosses back the handful of pills, wincing at how even the slight motion of raising his arm up makes his trap twinge in protest. “Ugh.”

“You should get a massage,” Mary suggests, and Bucky fights not to lash out at her. She doesn’t know that one of his biggest pet peeves in life is having other people tell him what he “should” do.

“My PT maxed out back in October,” he tells her. “Doesn’t renew again till January.”

Steve takes the water glass from him once he’s done. “Go lie face down on the bed,” he murmurs. “I’ll find the heating pad.”

“Well I could do it,” Mary blurts out. Both Bucky and Steve pause and look at her. She looks surprised, too, as though she hadn’t been planning to say the words until they were out of her mouth, and now doesn’t know how to continue “Um, that is ..." she gestures weakly with her cookie. “I just meant I know how to, if you wanted.” Eventually her cheeks color and she looks away. “Erm, Nevermind.”

“Wait,” Steve says. When Mary turns back, he’s looking at her earnestly, and Bucky thinks, Oh no. “You know how to give a back massage? Like a real one?”

“Yeah. My, ah, my ex always had neck problems, so.” She shrugs, looking embarrassed. “I took a class at the community college, learned the basics.”

Bucky blinks. That’s the subbiest fucking thing he’s ever heard. “You did this for the husband that beat you?” he drawls, immediately regretting it because it comes out sounding way more derogatory than he intends it to. “Sorry. I just … actually would pay good money for a massage right now. If you know how to do it.”

Mary bites her lip, looking deliciously shy and sweet. Bucky’s mood sours as he realizes that she doesn’t really want to. He’s about to let her off the hook, but then some unconscious movement he makes without meaning to has him flinching in pain again. “Sheezus,” he complains.

“It’s not usually this bad,” Steve worries.

“I must’a slept on it wrong.”

Mary nods, as if this settles it. “Okay. Well, go in the bedroom and tie your hair up so it's out of the way.” She turns to Steve, all but dismissing Bucky now that she’s got a task to complete. Bucky fights back an amused smirk as he heads towards the bedroom, and he hears Mary bossing Steve around, telling him she needs dry oil, the heating pad, towels, and all the seat cushions off the couch.

The fuck does she need those for? Bucky thinks as he pads back into his and Steve’s room.

He finds out a moment later, when Mary and Steve come in with a couch cushion each, and Steve goes back out to get another. They lay them in a line on the bed, and Mary directs Bucky to lie on top of them, with his body placed just so and his face down just there, and … Oh. He gets it.

She’s left space between the cushion under Bucky’s chest, and the next cushion up, which supports his forehead. The gap creates a drop through for his face—like a massage table. And when she shapes the towel into a donut shape and sticks it there, it's pretty much perfect.

“Oh,” Bucky says, as he’s settling into place. “Oh, that’s actually really smart.” He can’t see Mary from his position, but somehow he senses her preening over the praise anyway. Steve returns from the bathroom with the heating pad and oil. “Found this stuffed in the back of the linen closet. I don’t know what ‘jojoba’ is, but, um … it’s either that or the virgin olive out in the pantry.”

“Do not use that,” Bucky grumbles. “Shit’s expensive, and I don’t wanna smell like garlic truffle for the next three days.”

“That’ll work fine.” Mary is totally task focused, ignoring Bucky’s surliness and telling Steve to apply the heating pad across Bucky’s shoulders and neck for thirty minutes before they get started.

“Thirty minutes?!” Bucky complains, unable to see anything but the top of the bedcovers as the two of them go out into the hallway.

“Just relax, Babe,” Steve says (and if Bucky isn’t mistaken, he sounds amused). “Take a nap.”

“I just woke up!” He scoffs at the bedspread when the door quietly ‘snicks’ shut and he realizes that he’s been abandoned. “Well okay then,” he mutters petulantly. Steve is right: he does turn into an ass when he’s in pain. Hmm. Maybe he should work on that.

Steve

Steve turns the tv onto a low volume so they can talk without Bucky hearing. “Sorry about him,” he says. “He’s a humongous jerk whenever he’s feeling crummy.”

“You mean it’s not just all the time?” Mary drawls.

“He’s … just one of those people you have to learn to love before you like them.” Mary raises an eyebrow, and Steve winces. “Er, that sounded harsh. Don’t tell him I said that.”

She twists her lips and looks down. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks, Hon. You want more tea?”

“Yes please. There’s more of the palmiers in a baggie next to the coffee pot, if you want any.”

“Heck yeah, I love those things.” Steve had thought the prepackaged ones at Starbucks were good, hadn’t even realized that they weren’t supposed to be all stale and hard like that. Just another commercialized pastry that Mary’s gone and ruined him for. He goes into the kitchen and makes himself coffee and Mary tea, knowing by now how she takes it.

She thanks him silently as he returns and joins her on the couch, both of them sitting close to one another on the chaise, since it’s the only part of the couch that still has its cushion.

"Palmier is French. Know what else they call these?" Mary asks.

Steve's lips quirk. Mary's always got these little facts she knows about the origins of this pastry or that. It's cute. Endearing. "No," he plays along. "What?"

"Elephant ears, because of the shape, see?"

"Oh yeah. Huh. That's neat."

She goes back to eating and sipping at her teacup, and after a moment of unrequited, affectionate staring, Steve looks away. "Elephant ears," he murmurs, trying not to be mopey. "That's funny."

They split the palmiers between them, and aside from the sounds of them munching cookies and sipping their drinks, it’s quiet for a long time. Steve made both the tea and the coffee very hot, so they at least have the excuse of cradling and blowing on their steaming mugs to keep the silence from being too awkward. Mary keeps her eyes trained forward, but Steve gets the sense that she isn’t really paying attention to the home renovation program that’s playing on the tv. His suspicions are confirmed when she eventually asks,

“So: His arm.”

Steve inhales slowly. “Yeah. His arm.”

“What happened?”

Steve frowns. He can tell by her inflection that she’s asking not just about the arm, but about the state of Bucky’s entire left side from shoulder to hip. “We were in the army,” he confides. “Deployed overseas. I made captain young, but he was a specialist in the field: a sniper. So I wasn’t put into the same types of situations as he was. His convoy got blown up by an IED. And when the dust settled …” He shrugs. “No more arm.”

“Oh.” Mary sits there and absorbs that information. “I guess I kind of figured it was something like that. I mean what else is there, besides like, a shark attack or something?”

Steve’s mouth twitches. Shark attack, ha. He’ll have to suggest that one to Buck. Might be fun to lie about, the next time a stranger asks. “Naw, just a boring old bomb. And afterwards, well. It was a long road for him, after. He didn’t have the arm when I met him.”

Mary turns her head, surprised. “Oh. You two didn’t meet in the army?”

“No, after. I met him at the V.A., when he was already angry, hurt, and didn’t want to be where he was.” Steve looks over and gives her a meaningful look. “Kind of like when I first met you.”

Her eyes widen, and then her face colors and she looks away again, pulling her knees up and hunkering over her mug. “Was I really that bad?” she mumbles.

“... You were pretty bad, Honey.”

She frowns and doesn’t say anything, and Steve decides to leave it alone. “So yeah, his arm. He got into a program for experimental cybernetics. It was a big gamble. Back then, he still had his arm down to nearly the elbow, which meant he could use a lot of the different types of prostheses they had on the market. The less arm you have, the less they can do for you. The surgeries for the implant required removal all the way up to and including his left shoulder blade. So if he went through with it and the procedures didn’t work out, he’d be left with less function than he started with.”

“Jeez.”

“Hm, yeah. It was a risk.” Steve stares across the living room as he remembers all of the hospital stays and surgeries and revisions and therapy appointments. “Luckily it worked out. They replaced some bones with metal supports, some of his natural muscle with enhanced synthetic tissue. His body didn’t reject any of the junk they were putting in him, which was the biggest worry. All in all, it took five surgeries over the course of three years, and then a shit ton of physiotherapy. Buck says it was worth it, now, but it wasn’t a walk in the park when it was happening, I’ll tell you that.”

Beside him, Mary makes a sad little noise in her throat. “But … all that and it still gives him pain?”

“Yeah. He gets PT for it, but like he said; it never winds up lasting the full year. I force him to my veterans' support group when I can, but he’s gotta be in a really charitable mood for that.” Steve snorts humorlessly. “He’s always hated being disabled. It doesn’t jive with his DPD. You know that stereotype about men: never wanting to stop and ask for directions?”

“Yeah.”

"Well it's true. And then you take a guy who’s as far on the spectrum as Bucky is, and it’s ten times worse.” He widens his eyes in emphasis and gets a little giggle out of Mary for it, which makes him warm with pride. He pulls his feet up onto the couch next to Mary’s and nudges her knee with his. “Just fair warning: He’s the worst patient I’ve ever seen. So don’t take it personally if he’s grumpy at you in there.”

Mary frowns and looks away. “Well, I mean I don’t have to do this. If he doesn’t want to.”

“Pretty sure he wants to. And he needs help with it, whether his stubborn ass wants to admit it or not.”

She nods, though she still doesn’t look confident. “It’s been over a year since I worked on anybody …”

“Well then this’ll be good practice for you, won’t it?” Steve nudges her again in encouragement and tells her to finish up her tea: He doesn’t expect Bucky’ll lie around patiently for much longer.

(“Oh, and Hon, maybe don’t tell him we were out here talking about him this whole time.”)

(“Duh.”)

In the bedroom, Mary climbs onto the bed next to where Bucky is laid out on the couch cushions. She takes the heating pad off his neck and puts it aside, looking nervously over the broad expanse of his back. “Um …” She reaches for the oil bottle and pumps some into her hands. She spends a long, long time just spreading it between her hands and staring at Bucky, until finally he snaps,

“What’s the holdup?”

“Babe, be nice,” Steve warns. “Mary? You need anything?”

“Um, no. It’s just … usually I'd ..." She makes an aborted move, like she's thinking about repositioning herself, but winds up staying where she is. "Right," she mutters to herself. "This'll work fine." She reaches forward like she’ll start rubbing Bucky’s back, hesitates, shuffles closer to his side, then sets her hands on his shoulders.

Bucky doesn’t so much as twitch, but he’s not used to new people touching him, and Steve would bet money that his eyes are clenched shut right now.

“Okay,” Mary warns. “I haven’t done this in awhile, so don’t get your hopes up for a miracle or anything.”

“Anything’ll be better than what I can do myself,” Bucky says gruffly, voice somewhat muffled by the cushions. “Just go to town. You can’t hurt me any worse.”

Steve can see Mary’s face, and he knows by now what she looks like when she’s flustered. Awkwardly, he steps to the side, heading for the door. “I’ll just go watch some—”

“No!” Mary squeaks, and when Steve turns back around she’s looking at him with wide eyes. “Don’t leave,” she says, like being left alone touching Bucky is the worst possible thing that could happen. Steve doesn’t miss how the muscles in Bucky’s arms do tense at hearing her plead for Steve to stay.

“Uhm, okay. I’ll just … be over here.” He leans back against the dresser, feeling almost painfully awkward. Once again, he’s reminded how Mary has shown absolutely no desire to engage in sexual contact with them. He hopes she doesn’t think this is a ploy to force physical contact. She was the one who suggested it, after all.

She starts at the base of Bucky’s skull, rubbing her thumbs in small circles. “As I go along, try to tell me which areas feel the worst,” she murmurs, and Bucky hums in acknowledgement. Steve watches as she pushes and circles and kneads Bucky’s neck, working down on into his shoulders. He’s struck by how feminine and tiny her hands look against Bucky’s body … and then has to steer his mind away from the thought of how tiny they might look in other places.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky gasps, when she reaches a certain spot on the left side of his neck.

She freezes. “Bad?”

“Nngh. Good,” he slurs. “That whole area from there goin’ down into my back ‘n all around my shoulder blade is where it’s worst.”

“Okay.” She tentatively presses around in and around the left side of his neck and shoulder. “Oh, yeah. It starts right here and goes down.” She slides her hand down the muscle and hums. “Oh, I can feel it.”

(Steve tries really hard not to think sexual thoughts.)

“Riiight here? and … here?"

Between the cushions, Bucky’s voice comes out in a series of garbled moans.

“That’d be a yes,” Steve interprets, and Mary actually shoots him a grin at that. Glad to have cut the tension a bit, he dares to take a few steps closer to the bed. He peers down at what Mary’s doing, the way her fingers dig in at sharp, focused points in some places and rub more gently in others. “It’s your trap that’s the worst,” she mutters distractedly, feeling around with her hands and staring off into space with the tip of her tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth. It’s cute. “Mmm, but probably your levator scapulae, too. Those tend to get fucked up hand in hand.”

“Mmrr.”

“And here: your rhomboid.”

“Ooh!”

“Tender?”

“Shuyeahhh,” Bucky grunts, then his breath hitches when she digs into another spot. “Oh, yep yep right there. Was’that?”

Steve can’t help but grin. Bucky sounds like he’s drooling at this point.

“Your trapezius muscle. It's big. Does a lot of work, covers a large area. Probably the main offender.” Mary hums and feels around a little more. “Oof, yeah. You’ve got a whole bunch of tension right here.”

“You can feel it?” Steve asks, fascinated. He can't see anything.

“Yeah. Here, gimme your hand.” Steve is taken aback when she grabs his hand and guides his fingers into place, her own smaller hand pressing down. “Riiight there. You feel it?”

Steve swallows thickly. “Ah, yeah.” His eyes flick from her hand on his hand on Bucky’s back, up to her face, and back again before she can catch him looking. “Y-yeah it’s hard.” He grimaces at his choice of words (If he's not careful, "it" soon will be).

“I’m gonna focus on this one for a few minutes,” Mary tells Bucky. Then you can guide me around to the other bad spots.”

“Sounds good,” he slurs. Steve is about to take a step back again, but then Bucky calls out, “Hey Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Pay attention to what she’s doin’. It feels really fuckin’ good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm. You can learn n' do it next time,” he says dreamily. On his back, Mary’s hands still for the briefest of seconds. “S’goood.”

Steve nods and comes back to sit on the bed. “Okay,” he agrees, scooting in close and glancing at Mary. Her face looks pinched all of a sudden, her expression stiffened as if in annoyance. “I promise I’m not as dumb as I look,” he jokes, and watches as her face smooths out and she smiles a little.

“Oh! Oh no it’s … it’s okay, I don’t mind. I’ll teach you how.”

“Don’t mind me, m’just a teaching tool,” Bucky drawls, and Steve laughs and pats his shoulder.

“Yeah you are. So shut up and let her teach.”

Bucky grunts and shuts up. Steve looks to Mary for instruction. He can tell she’s uncomfortable, but she manages to hide it well and keep herself on track. The more he pays attention, the sooner she can get herself out of this and never have to do it again. “Ready to learn,” he tells her.

“Now when you’re doing this, you can get more leverage if you straddle his waist.” She says this like it’s a foregone assumption that she would never dare to sit on Bucky’s waist, and Steve is sure she doesn’t notice the grumpy huff of breath Bucky gives.

“Right,” Steve says, pained. “Okay, so where are the bad spots again?”

“Put your hand here.” She takes his hand again and places it just to the left of Bucky’s spine at the level of his shoulder blade. “Slide your fingers out. There. Feel that difference? Feel how it changes when you move out to just … there?” She guides his fingers, and Steve nods.

“Y-yeah.” Mostly, he’s just thinking about how nice Mary’s warm, oiled, tiny hand feels guiding his hand around. “Yeah.”

“The trap’s on top, but there are other muscles underneath of this one, and that differentiation you feel is where the rhomboid is ending and the—”

She keeps talking, and Steve tries to pay attention and learn, he really does. But his mind is a veritable sieve, for how well he retains the information. It’s all in one ear and out the other, ninety percent of his attention stuck on Mary’s hands on him, guiding him, pressing on his fingers and gliding his touch over Bucky’s skin. Fuck, how did they wind up here?

Eventually, having taught Steve the basics, Mary lets him go and works on Bucky’s shoulders for a little while more. For the most part it’s quiet, with Bucky making soft grunts of pain whenever she finds a new cluster of knotted muscle, and sighs of relief once she works them out.

Her hands linger on Bucky’s mid back when she’s done. She doesn’t seem to know what to do. “Erm. Okay. I think … I think that’s it.”

When neither Bucky nor Steve says anything, she retreats on her own, getting off the bed and looking between Bucky’s prone form and Steve’s sorrowful expression. “So, kay. You can get up, if you want. Just move slowly.”

Bucky’s right hand gives her the thumbs up symbol, but the entire rest of his body doesn’t move. “Thanks Mare. Just give us a second. That was really good. Thank you. Thanks for teaching Steve.”

It’s the “Thanks for teaching Steve” that seems to do it. Mary’s expression firms up and she nods curtly, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. Steve stays sitting on the bed next to Bucky in silence for a long minute, then says knowingly, “Got a boner?”

“Yep.”

*To anyone who's only ever had store bought, pre-packaged palmiers: I'm so sorry. Along with Madeleines, those should never be eaten more than a few hours max after they've been baked.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

🍵Consider tipping your friendly neighborhood starving artist smut author!

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

This has been a fill for:

@anyfandomdarkbingo

Card: sarahyellow / sarah-writes-stucky

Square N3: Body Swap

@matchat3a @bethexo07

186 notes · View notes

the-iceni-bitch · 10 months ago

Text

𝕾𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕰𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖍 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖂𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖍 𝕳𝖊'𝖘 𝕭𝖔𝖗𝖓

𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚞𝚛 𝙱𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜

𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚙𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝.

𝙰𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚊 ~ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚏 𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚢

𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 ~ 𝙰 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜

Words: 1.3k

Relationship: minotaur!Bucky Barnes x chubby!prince male reader

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (m/m sex, fellatio, rimming), soft reassuring Bucky, fatphobia, self-loathing language, hurt/comfort, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: Who knows, maybe I’ll actually get all of these churned out before February. Wouldn’t that be neat?

You told yourself you were not going to cry. Not in front of your brothers, and definitely not in front of your father.

Your little mental pep talk did nothing to stop the stinging in your eyes, though. It was hard to stay strong when they were being so cruel. The flat of one of their tourney swords smacked against your stomach when you missed your chance to shield it and all of them laughed. All of them except your father, who just looked angry and disappointed in you. Just like he always did.

The hours in the training yard were always torturous, but they had become especially unbearable ever since your mother had announced her intention to begin the process of finding you a wife. For some reason their taunts about your soft belly and questioning of your manhood began to sting all the more. Not even your haven in the library was safe, you could hear their japes and laughter following you through the corridors of your family’s castle. You hated it, and you hated them, the prospect of finally running away becoming more and more tempting as their unkindness grew to be too much.

Today you didn’t think you could take it. As soon as training was complete and you were out of your leathers you made your way to the castle gate, trying your best not to run and give them further cause to torment you. You couldn’t be around them anymore. There was only one place where you felt truly safe, truly yourself.

The ruins at the edge of the city took less than half an hour to reach, and as soon as you saw them you felt a sense of peace. The broken fountains still flowed with clear, sweet water that you could drink or bathe in, fragrant flowers bloomed in the shade of the shattered rocky walls, and soft grass covered the ground that wind through a labyrinth of stones and statues.

But the thing that made this place feel truly like your refuge was hidden, known only to you and yours alone. You heard the deep rumble of his voice before you even saw him, the tears you had been struggling to hold back beginning to fall as you let yourself collapse on a bed of hyacinths.

“Little prince?” You could feel his massive hooves making the earth tremble as he rounded the corner to find you, trying to smile in spite of yourself and failing miserably. “What is wrong, my love? Why do you cry?”

“The same reason I always cry.” As soon as Bucky knelt next to you you rested your head in his lap, letting out a pathetic sob but unable to care when he stroked your head with a massive hand. “I hate my father and my brothers, they make me so miserable. Maybe I really will just live here with you and survive off honey and wine.”

“It is not a bad way to live, little prince.” Bucky smiled warmly at you when you turned your body so you could peer at his face. “But you deserve all the riches and spoils of castle life. My little prince should be pampered.”

“I’m too pampered.” Your little huff of frustration made Bucky chuckle. “I am! I’m soft and weak. Even though I hate hearing it from them I know they’re right.”

“That’s enough.” The deep growl of Bucky’s voice let you know he was not pleased with you speaking about yourself in such a way, and you swallowed the rest of your self-loathing when you saw his brow furrow. He was suddenly pinning you to the ground and blowing out heavy breaths that warmed your face, and you were reminded just how enormous the minotaur you had taken for a love was. “You are not weak, and your softness is beautiful. Would a weak man let a monster love him? Would a weak man be able to show such vulnerability? I will not listen to you say such things about yourself, not when you are the man I am in love with. I do not know how many times I will have to show you just how much you are worth, but I will do it over and over again.”

Your attempt to argue was quickly muffled by his lips, every thought in your head suddenly disappearing when his thick, warm tongue lapped at yours and his hands tugged at your tunic. Before you knew it you were bare beneath him, gazing up at him with widened eyes when he pulled back from your kiss then whimpering as he began to nuzzle his way down your torso.

“Buck…”

“Hush.” He stopped at the soft bulge of your stomach, kissing every inch of skin reverently as your cock started to twitch and grow hard. “Just let me love you, little prince.”

All you could do was sigh and let your eyes drift closed as he kept kissing and licking your stomach, relishing the feeling of his strong hands gripping your fleshy thighs and spreading them wide while he worshiped his favorite part of you. He adored how soft and bountiful your body was, how sensitive you were to his ministrations and the noises that escaped from you when you finally relax and let him love you like you deserved. When you giggled at the ring in his nose tickling your navel you could feel him grinning against your skin, a soft chuff of his breath warming your stomach before his tongue flicked out to tease the head of your cock.

His mouth on you was like elysium, your body rolling under him and your breath leaving you in a whine as he began to drag his broad, heavy tongue along the length of you. Bucky always did his best to take his time and appreciate every inch of you, but you couldn’t help but get worked up so quickly it was almost embarrassing. You never really could be embarrassed around your minotaur, though. He knew every inch of you and loved you just the same. He was the only truly comforting thing in your life. And by the gods, he made you feel incredible.

Hours or merely seconds may have passed since he started licking your cock. Time lost all meaning when you were with him like this, but you would never complain about it. When his lips wrapped around you it was impossible to keep yourself from moaning obscenely, your back arching as he began to take you deeper and deeper into his hot, wet mouth.

Then his tongue slithered lower, dragging over your balls then even further even as he kept his lips wrapped tightly around your cock. Your body arched and you cried out beneath him when he started to lap at your sensitive rim, barely holding yourself back from erupting in his mouth. But then Bucky hummed around you and you couldn’t contain yourself any longer, digging your fingers into the soft grass beneath you as you filled Bucky’s mouth with your seed.

“Mmmm,” Bucky grinned and licked his lips as he pulled away from you, winking when you could only whimper in response to the sight of your cum dribbling from the corner of his mouth. “My little prince is so sweet. Was that enough or do you still need to be convinced you are worthy of being cherished?”

“It… it was more than enough.” You sighed when he kissed you, laughing softly when he wrapped you in his arms and rolled onto his back so you were laying on top of him. “I can never stay sad when I know you love me, Bucky.”

#natalie writes #monstrous mayhem #kinktober 2023 #minotaur!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky x male reader #marvel x male reader #bucky x reader #male reader #male!reader #chubby reader #eighteen plus #m/m romance #m/m smut #m/m fanfic #marvel au

217 notes · View notes

eekshade · 1 year ago

Note

I’m very for angst right now- Bucky in his Winter Soldier ‘mode’ in some way hurt his boyfriend who then was sent to the hospital. Later on when Bucky’s back to normal he realized what he did and feels very sad about it and visits his partner

sorry this took so long, i know it's not really what you were looking for, more of a hurt/comfort than angst.

Sorry, Sweet Home.

Bucky Barnes x m!reader

Word Count: 644

Warnings/Info: made this on my phone, this isn't really angsty, more fluff than anything, just a hospital scene; no actual violence, not proofread, no real warnings

Bucky sat in the pure white and blue hospital waiting room, speckles of color pop out in the minimalist paintings of nothing in particular. Tears pricked in his eyes as the guilt of harming you caused him to shudder deeply. How could he do this? How could he let himself slip like that? How could he hurt you when all you wanted to do was help? He felt numb as he shifted uncomfortably in the stiff seat.

The doctor came to him, Bucky didn't fully know what was said to him. The sound of his heart and nondescript buzzing flooded his ears. His body moved by itself as he made his way through the spotless hallway to your cleansed, pale room.

His eyes land on your somnolent body, he blinks to clear his eyes of the warm tears. His mind races a mile a minute, his self hate and shame boils in his heart. His body feels like it's going to give out underneath the weight of it all. His thoughts come to an abrupt end at the sight of your warm, shaky smile.

“Buck…? You okay?” You whispered, voice soft as a small kit.

“Am I okay?” His voice cracked deeply, taking a breath before continuing, “Are you?” He made no effort to move closer to you - the guilt stopping him.

“Of course I am, I can take you any day.” You jested, he let out a soft whimper at that.

“Honey, can you please come over here?” You pleaded with a warm smile.

He nodded hesitantly, pulling up a chair to the side of your bed. Knees pressed against the soft plush of the mattress, the contrast of the cool metal bringing him no comfort.

“I am so sorry.” He apologized, voice barley audible out of fear that if he spoke too loud, he wouldn't be able to get the sentence out. Tears running down his soft cheeks, the salty taste enters through the corner of his lips.

“Hey, no no no, don't do that. It's not your fault.” The pads of your thumbs gently wipe the tears off of his pretty face.

“-But I put you here? How could this not be my fault? I let myself go, and I let myself hurt you.” He croaked, “ I'm a monster.” He avoided eye contact like the plague, opted to look at his hands tangled with yours.

You broke into laughter, warm and bubbly, he looked up at your face, confusion gracing his angelic features.

“Sorry, I just, I love you so very much. Do you know that?” You snickered.

“Callin’ yourself a monster, but - god, I mean, look at you.” You say with a harsh snort.

“What does that mean?” He smiles at you, guilt seeping out of his system at your antics.

“Well, for starters you have an entire bookshelf of only fantasy, you organize your clothes by color, you're insanely good with kids, you love carnivals, you fold your socks, you are a cat whisperer, do you need more?”

He looks at you sweetly, opening his mouth to respond, but he closes it when he can't find the right words to choose. He looks down at his lap, a lovely smirk on his lips. He's trying to hide it almost like he's embarrassed of himself for being so easily swayed.

“Look at me.” You responded curtly. His blue eyes swiftly look up at you, shaken by your icy tone.

You lean in and leave a quick tender kiss on his slightly chapped lips, he chases your lips as you pull away. He whines as you stop him from continuing. You rest your forehead on his, your breath mixing together, “I love you, Buck, so so much.” You mumble into the small space between you two.

“I love you more.” He kisses your cheek.

“Sure sure.” You scoff, catching his lips once more.

MARVEL MASTERLIST

#marvel x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky x male reader #male reader #mlm fanfic #bucky barnes #m!reader #marvel #james buchanan barnes

197 notes · View notes

foreverrandomwritings · 1 year ago

Note

these jealous prompts with my babygirl bucky pls 🦾🤍 romantic relationship

“hey— look at me. why are you all upset?”

“i promise there’s no one else. you have my heart completely.”

Blind Dates

Summary: Loving each other had been difficult since neither of you were aware of the feelings the other harbored. What happens when it gets too much for you to handle?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x afab!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol and fluff.

Word count: 1105

Masterlist M's Hundred Celly Masterlist

You had a crazy road leading you to becoming friends with Bucky. It had started out as you being friends with Clint, then Natasha, eventually Steve, then Sam and now Bucky. Even though everyone around you could see the love you had for each other, the two of you couldn’t see it. Thinking the other strictly wanted a platonic relationship.

That had worked out decently for you up until Sam started setting Bucky up on blind dates. He had seemed a little reluctant to go on them but you figured that was probably because it had been a while since he had dated. You knew from Steve what a ladies man he used to be. Which you understood completely, even after everything he’s been through he still had charm.

But the more dates he went on the more you pulled away from him. It hurt to see him constantly going out with other women while you pined for him from the sidelines. He had noticed the distance growing between you. When he asked about it you would make up an excuse and tell him it was okay.

The final straw though was when you saw him on one of the dates. You had decided to have a drink and dinner by yourself at a local restaurant. Your dinner had just arrived when you heard a familiar voice. You paused mid bite looking around until your eyes landed on him. He had on your favorite red Henley, nice form fitting jeans and a pair of dressy casual shoes.

From where you were sitting you could see the women he was on a date with. She looked nothing like you. Different hair color, different face shape, she dressed more provocative than you did, her eyes were even a different color from yours. You felt nauseous as she reached across the table to stroke his flesh arm.

Flagging down the waiter you asked for a box and the check. He brought it out hastily packing your food away as you put cash with the check. You told him to keep the change as you slipped from the table and towards the door. You smelled his aftershave as you passed their table. Which was conveniently on the way to the door.

You heard him call your name as you slipped into the busy streets of the city. Quickly you blended into the crowd and made your way home. You thought about taking the subway or hailing a taxi as you walked. But you decided you needed to clear your head some and the walk back to your apartment would give you the time to.

You regretted that decision though as an unexpected storm came pouring down from the sky. Huffing you pulled the jacket you had on tighter around your body. The bag of leftovers hanging lazily from your fingers. Your teeth started to chatter the closer you got to your block. But you hadn’t been paying attention enough to notice.

Once you rounded the corner that would take you to the tall brick building you noticed a figure sitting on the stoop. You were on high alert instantly scanning the area around you for any possible threats. Seeing none you cautiously made your way to the steps. As you got closer you could make out the person drenched in rain.

“Buck?” You called out towards him. His head shot up as he heard your voice.

“Doll, did you walk here?” He was out of his seat now striding over to you in a few steps.

“Uh yea. Have you been waiting here for long?” You asked him, eyes shooting towards where he was sitting before looking towards the ground.

“About an hour. I saw you while you were leaving the restaurant. I called out to you but you didn’t answer me. I followed you outside and you were gone. I thought you got a cab but once I got here you weren’t here so I decided to wait for you.” You shrugged your shoulders at the end of his sentence trying to remain emotionless.

“Hey— look at me. Why are you all upset?” He brought a finger to your chin lifting your face up to see you. He had always been able to see through your facades. The rain had started coming down heavier. His hair was sticking to his forehead and his eyelashes were littered with rain drops.

“I’m not upset Buck.” You searched his eyes for a hint of the love you felt for him. You were surprised to see exactly that in his blue eyes.

“I know you’re upset, please just talk to me.” His rough fingers slipped from your chin to your cheek. You took a deep shaking breath at the contact.

“I don’t like seeing you or hearing about you going on dates. I don’t like that you are with someone that isn’t me.” You told him shakily, not trusting yourself to not cry.

“Doll, I promise there’s no one else. You have my heart completely.” His eyes darted towards your lips as you slipped your tongue between them, licking some of the rain off them.

“Then why have you been going on dates?” You asked him skeptically, he looked ashamed as he spoke.

“I just needed to get my mind off you. But it never worked. You’re all I can think about. Day and night my thoughts are filled with you.” Your eyes were now on his lips as he spoke. Imagining them melded to yours. The knowledge that you ran through his mind as much as he did yours, warmed something deep inside you.

“Kiss me Buck.” You looked at him as the rain continued to pour around you.

“Are you sure, doll?” His voice was hesitant as he looked at your face. Studying it closely for any signs of hesitation from you. When he saw none he was slowly moving forwards.

The kiss was soft and slow. His hands remained on your face as yours came up to cup his own. The bag of leftovers falling from your grasp. You continued to kiss out on the sidewalk covered in rain for what felt like hours until he pulled away.

“You're shivering, let’s get inside.” You nodded, as you led him up your steps into your apartment. Once you entered you went into your room giving him an extra set of clothes before slipping into some of your own.

You grabbed a blanket and got settled on the couch as he changed. When he slipped into the room you gestured for him to join you and he did. You fell asleep that night laying on top of him, his arms wrapped around you securely. He had his first nightmare less sleep in years as your scent and warmth surrounded him. You would talk about what this meant for the both of you in the morning. For now you would enjoy the embrace of the other.

A/N: A surprise out of schedule post today in honor of it being my besties birthday! Happy Birthday Love @theeleggymeggy! Plus a bonus gif as an extra present!❣️❣️

Tags(open): @wkndwlff @sylviebell

#m's hundred celly #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #winter solider imagine #winter solider x reader #fluff #winter solider oneshot #marvel imagine #marvel oneshot #M loves Meg

286 notes · View notes

loki-princeofasgard · 1 year ago

Text

#loki x reader #dean winchester x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #mobius m mobius x reader #agent mobius x reader #tony stark x reader #steve rodgers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #daryl dixon x reader #rick grimes x reader

42 notes · View notes

gaysindistress · 11 months ago

Text

Hey lovelies!

Would yall be interested in some Bucky x m!reader content? I’ve noticed that some of yall have he/him in your bios and I want to give you guys the content you want.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x male reader #male reader #m!reader #Bucky x m!reader

24 notes · View notes

espinosaurusrexex · 1 year ago

Note

Can I ask about Bucky x reader? Where Bucky is hurt during mission and readers are hesitant to hug him, and he said "I'm hurting doll, please don't make me beg"

Bucky gets hurt on a mission

a/n: here's a small piece of imagination for this beautiful request 💗

word count: exactly 600

warnings: mentions of injuries, hurt/comfort, just super fluffy, Bucky being a needy cuddle bear

･ﾟ✫* 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ｡✭･ﾟ

“Bucky!” You gasped with your hand on your chest. “What happened?”

Your fingers reached out to touch him but retracted just before they connected to his scratched-up cheek. You didn’t want to hurt him more by touching his wounds, though your fingers itched to feel him benath them.

“Oh, god. Are you hurting?” Tears threatened to spill on your cheeks when you watched his jaw clench.

“I could be better,” the banged-up super soldier pressed past his teeth, biting his tongue when he moved his arm a little too fast for the injury he had yet to reveal to you.

“What can I do- I don’t- I-“ you paced around him, attempting to reach for supplies, then halting mid-motion and doing it all over again.

Bucky just watched as your hands inched toward him just to pull back before actually stroking over his head or shoulder. He sighed with a heavy heart, just wanting to pull you into a tight hug, but he knew his body wouldn’t allow him to.

“Water, can I get you water? When is the nurse gonna be here? Why is this all taking so long?!” Your eyes flew over his body again, taking in every scratch and bruise, every staggered motion - even though Bucky moved as little as possible. God, you’d never seen him like this and it scared you.

His round and glassy puppy eyes stared up at you, following your every move and gifting a longing stare to your hands whenever they reached past him.

You wanted to grab him and hide him under a big blanket, smother him with kisses until he was writhing for air, and then keep him in your arms until every bruise had faded back into the pale shade of his skin. But he was too hurt.

Bucky saw that there was something else bothering you. He could tell by the way your eyes twitched all over the room, your teeth digging into your lips as if unsure what you were allowed to do and what not. When your hands reached towards him again just to retract for what felt like the hundredth time, his shoulder jerked and he whimpered. Whimpered.

“Oh no, what did I do? Where does it hurt?” He watched as you fell to your knees before him, still hesitant to touch his legs as you stared up at him with worry and hurt.

He released a careful breath as he moved his good arm and touched your cheek - just below your shiny eyes.

“I’m already hurting, doll, please don’t make me beg,” he smiled, cautious not to deepen the cut in his lip that was already burning with the small movement.

“I’m scared it’ll make it worse,” you confessed with a whisper that pulled a short-lived chuckle from Bucky’s chest. He stopped himself immediately, though, feeling his bruised ribs protest with anger.

“You could never... everything’s better with you.”

His heart beat in his chest when you mindfully laid your hands on his knees, pushing yourself off the floor to step between them. The tingle your touch sent through his body worked well to cover the stinging on his skin. And when you pressed your hands into his back and head to draw him into your body, Bucky felt all the tension leave him.

You felt his smile press into your chest, eyes closed and releasing a long breath, Bucky nuzzled his head into your touch and you smiled contently.

“That’s better,” he whispered into your shirt, feeling your warmth consume him all over. There was nothing quite like your touch to make him heal.

If you liked this, please consider some love through a reblog or a comment - it really helps a lot 🧡

Wanna be added to the taglist?

@circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @buckyseddie @adoreyouusugar @km-ffluv @almosttoopizza @sociallyimpairedme @royalwritersoftheuniverses @i-l-y-3000 @mrsgweasley @prettylittlepluviophile @dinwifey @stuckysgirl27 @wintermischief @supersecretblogformytreasures @broadwaybabe18 @fridayiaminlove @buckybarnessimpp @goodkittyspost @justafangir1 @simpxinnie @bisexual-buckyfan @blackhawkfanatic @augustbucky @kandis-mom @harleycao @ashhsage

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier fluff #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #m shorts #bucky barnes drabble #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #meg answers #bucky barnes fanfiction

405 notes · View notes

cristinatheloser · 2 years ago

Text

One thing about me is I’m reading a fic whether or not I’ve watched the show/movie that the certain character has been in! Am I confused half of the time? Yes, but is the character and plot line immaculate?Yes

121 notes · View notes

sarahowritesostucky · 10 months ago

Text

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3720

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

4. Cake Doughnuts (shitty non-doughnuts)

This is not the way Mary expected her life to go. Divorced at 29, probably unemployed, and now declared mentally incompetent and legally attached to some stranger? Ew.

At least when the cops had dragged her into the ER, she’d been drunk still. But she’s sobered up a lot since then, and ever more so during the drive from the hospital to back to Brooklyn. It’s the most awkward car ride of her life. Steve’s the one who drives. Mary doesn’t know why that surprises her, but it does. And he’s the one who leads the way into their building and up the stairs. It’s an older building with character but no elevator, so they make the three story climb on foot. Another resounding Ew.

Mary walks silently around Bucky’s (and Steve’s—because of course he’s gay and married) apartment, feeling shy and hesitant and all the things she just really doesn’t want to be feeling right now. She stops when she gets to the second bedroom, stares at its pristinely tucked-in sheets and neutral tableau.

“You can bring over any stuff you need from your place,” Steve is saying gently from behind her, where he and Bucky are lingering in the hallway. “It’ll be your room. We won’t bother you in there.”

She whips around. “How long do I have to stay here?” Better to figure it out now. Make a plan. She glares at Bucky, since he’s the one in charge of this disaster. “I’m not staying here forever.” Steve looks even sadder at her words than Bucky does, kind of like a kicked puppy. It’s disconcerting, so Mary keeps her attention on Bucky instead, forcing herself to make eye contact. “Well?”

“Until I feel like it’s safe and healthy for you to be on your own,” he says, not a hint of sympathy in his tone. That’s disappointing, and it pisses Mary the hell off.

“Screw you,” she says, not particularly loudly, but definitely full of all the contempt she feels for this guy. “You think you can just—”

He’s got her pushed up against the wall faster than she can track with her eyes. One second she’s standing feet away from him, and the next she just … isn’t. He’s in her space and against her body, one hand at the base of her throat and a thigh pressing forward, holding her to the wall. It’s terrifying and shocking and …

“Oh I know ‘I can just’,” he says darkly.

… She’d rather eat glass than tell him what else it is. “Let go of me,” she grits out.

Disappointingly, he does. Steve is just standing there like a big idiot, blinking wide eyes at the scene. Bucky takes a full step back from her and says, “Don’t curse at me, Mary. It’s disrespectful.”

She wants to ask him exactly what he’s done to earn any respect from her. She grinds the words into her teeth instead while Bucky watches her knowingly. She hates that look almost as much as she hates the way he says her name, as if he’s known her for years rather than a millisecond.

“House rules,” he says calmly. “The practicalities of what’s going to happen. We should discuss that, don’t you think?”

Steve places a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, comes up beside him and wraps an arm around his waist in a way that reminds Mary that the two are a couple. “Hey,” he says softly, speaking in Bucky’s ear. “Why don’t we let her get some rest before you go asserting your dominance, huh?” Mary wrinkles her nose at the word, and Steve regards her kindly. “You’ve gotta be tired,” he says. “You want to sleep?”

Bucky looks like he’ll protest, so Mary nods quickly. “Yeah. Yeah I’m tired.”

She watches as Steve squeezes his husband’s shoulder. “Come on, Babe. Let’s leave her to get some rest. She’s been up all night.”

Suddenly, Mary realizes that she has been up all night, and it’s almost comical, how fast the exhaustion hits her. Her throat starts to ache with a yawn that she fights not to let out in front of them. “Yeah,” she says again, this time thinking less about Bucky and what he wants or doesn’t want, and more about the bed that Steve said was reserved for her. She remembers that she feels like absolute shit, and probably looks it, too. “M’gonna sleep,” she says, turning away from both of them and heading for the bed.

The door ‘snicks’ shut softly behind her, and she assumes it was Steve who closed it. The two men's muffled voices fade off down the hallway, and even though it’s probably naïve to trust them so easily, Mary believes what Steve said about them not bothering her in this room.

She collapses on the bed that is exactly as soft as it looks. The sheets are tucked with military precision and smell like no one’s ever used them before. Mary grinds her face into the cool pillows and briefly wonders if Steve and Bucky have never had any company over to use this bed, before falling into one of the deadest sleeps of her life.

She wakes up feeling much, much better. Steve and Bucky’s guest bedroom has an en-suite, so she goes in and does her best to freshen up with the toiletries she finds stocked there.

There are three Advil Liqui-gel capsules sitting on the bedside table when she comes out. Mary regards them sharply and glances back to the door, but it’s still closed, no sign of life heard from outside in the hallway. Either the pills were there earlier and she just didn’t notice them, or else Steve is a lot stealthier than he looks. Twisting her lips, she scoops the pills up and tosses them back to fend off the headache she can already feel brewing behind her temples.

A quick search of the room’s dresser drawers yields nothing, and she’s forced to face the fact that she’s going to have to do this confrontation dressed in only her huge tee shirt from the night before. No matter, she thinks, squaring her shoulders and reaching for the doorknob. She’s got a new strategy in mind.

“I’m sorry,” she says, when she ventures out to find Bucky and Steve sitting in the living room.

Steve reaches for the remote to mute the tv, and Bucky sits back with a doughnut that he’s just plucked from a box on the coffee table. He bites into it, looking only vaguely interested "Want one?"

She spares a glance at the box. "Are they yeasted?"

"What's that mean?" Steve asks.

Another glance reveals that they're not, and Mary turns her nose up at them. "It means you're eating shitty, overbaked cake, not a doughnut," she says snottily.

Steve just blinks and looks back at the box with a little frown. Bucky takes another huge bite of his doughnut and chews it, maintaining eye contact with her and speaking around his mouthful, "Weren't you sorry for something?"

Mary purses her lips and starts over with her contrition act. “Yes. Look, I know you guys are just trying to help me. And I know I probably seem like such a hot mess to you right now.”

“Cause you are,” Bucky drawls.

Mary quells the urge to go over there and slap the doughnut straight out of his hands. That won’t help her with this new strategy she’s decided on. ‘Honey versus vinegar’, and all that. “Yeah,” she says instead. “So I’ll admit, my life hasn’t been going very well lately. And I really did need some help.” She forces herself to give Bucky a friendly smile. “So I’m glad you were willing to step in and help me. Thank you.” Bucky is looking at her way, way too unimpressed, and Mary squirms in place, thinking that he should be looking happier at what she’s just said. “Well?” she says.

He chews another bite of doughnut for a solid five seconds, swallows, then says, “How much did it hurt you to spit that out?”

She scowls. “I was trying to be nice.”

“Mm hm.” He pats the couch beside himself in a clear invitation. “Come sit down. Have a doughnut.”

She’s obeying before she even thinks about it, though at least she has the sense to take a seat on Steve’s side of the L-shaped sectional, and not Bucky’s. “I’m not hungry,” she says, just as her stomach gives a small growl.

“Well clearly that’s a lie,” Steve chuckles.

Mary glances over at him, peeved, but decidedly less so than she is at Bucky. Steve just seems less … threatening, maybe. Whatever it is, Mary pushes it from her mind.

“Look, I’ll stick around for a few hours or something if you really want to make sure I’m okay,” she says, attention back on Bucky, because she can already tell that he’s the one she’s got to convince. “But then I have to get back to my apartment.” She sees Bucky’s expression shutter at this and quickly adds, “I understand that you’re responsible for me, temporarily, technically. And I appreciate what you’ve done. I don’t want to cause you guys any more trouble than I already have. I’m going to take steps to take better care of myself now. And we can … we can keep in touch if you want. Just so you don’t ... you know … worry.” By the end of her speech she’s lost confidence, as she can see from Bucky’s expression that this is not being received well.

"Is that all?" he asks, eyebrow arched.

“Bucky,” she complains, floundering. “Come on. This isn’t … I mean you can’t just, adopt me, or whatever. I’m not some stray dog. You don’t even know me!"

He nods. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t.”

For one brief, overly-optimistic moment, she thinks that she’s actually going to get out of it that easy.

“But I’ll get to know you. Because you’re not leaving here anytime soon, Honey.”

All of that optimism tanks straight into a sour pit of disappointment. Mary shoots up to standing, startling Steve a bit where he's reaching for the doughnut box. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps.

Bucky takes another smug fucking bite out of his doughnut. “What?” he asks. “‘Honey’?”

“Yes! I’m not your ‘Honey’. I’m not your anything.”

He licks the sugar off his lips and stares her down. “You like it when I call you that.”

“No, I hate it,” she sneers. “Just like I hate your smug, self-satisfied face. I hate men like you.”

Bucky relaxes further back into the sofa, gesturing at her with the last of the doughnut before he stuffs it in his mouth and eats it. “Men like me, huh?” he asks once he’s swallowed, infuriating in his nonchalance.

“Yes.”

He chuckles and starts sucking his fingers clean one by one. “And what would that be?” he drawls, letting his legs splay wide on the couch cushions, thigh muscles straining against the denim of his jeans. He sees her getting distracted and hums. “Hm? Pray tell, Little girl. Do enlighten me. What are 'men like me' like?”

For one, airless second, all Mary wants in the world is to drop to her knees right between his legs, put her face at the seam of his jeans and rub her cheek against his thigh, against his …

Her thoughts go unfocused, fuzzy at the edges, static in her brain. She licks her lips absentmindedly, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of how he’s positioned himself …

“Mary.”

The sound of her own name draws her out of it, like a slap. She meets his eyes and juts her chin out, half dizzy from the effort. “Men like you think they know everything,” she grits. “Think that they’re the end-all-be-all. Men like you don’t feel any compunction about stepping on everyone around them. Men like you think you’re so fucking smart, that you can’t even fathom the likely alternative.”

“And what would that be?”

“That you’re actually just a cocksure moron,” she hisses.

Bucky tips his head at Steve. “Stevie tells me I’m a moron every other Tuesday, don’t you Babe?”

Steve shrugs a little from where he's leaning forward, holding the lid of the doughnut box open while he tries to choose a flavor. “Well, yeah.”

Bucky smirks, so unaffected that Mary just wants to scream. “So," he says. "You ‘hate men like me’, huh?”

“Yes. I do."

“That’s why you’ve spent your whole life around them, then?”

“I …" She falters. "What?”

Bucky glances over to Steve, and the two of them have some sort of silent exchange overtop the lid of the doughnut box, wordlessly communicating in a way that evidences a years’ long relationship. When they both look back to her, it’s Steve who speaks first.

“We got to read up on you a little, while you were asleep,” he says. He nods to the laptop and packet of papers on the coffee table. “Did some research. Learned about what led up to this.”

“'This'? What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been under the control of domineering men your entire life,” Bucky says, interjecting more forcefully over Steve’s gentler tone—Mary feels like she’s getting whiplash between the two of them. “First it was your father, out in Bumfuck, Nowhereville,”

“Indiana,” Steve mutters.

“Whatever,” Bucky snaps, zeroing back in on Mary with glinting eyes. “And he was ‘that sort of man’, wasn’t he?”

Mary feels a little like she’s been punched in the gut. “So what?” she says. “So you looked me up? Hospital gave you info on me and now you think you know me? You don’t know shit.”

“Your whole life, he said jump and you said how high, right?” Bucky asks, clearly not wanting or needing an answer to the question. Maybe Mary’s expression is answer enough. She’s not quite sure what she must look like right now. Horrified maybe. Or furious. “And then you latched onto the first jerk who’d give you a ride out of town.”

“Shut up.”

“Married him, too. And that worked for you alright ... Until it didn’t.”’

The backs of her eyes are starting to feel hot. “I said: shut up,” she whispers.

Bucky nods and leans forward on the couch, as if her anger and humiliation mean nothing to him. And damn him, maybe they don’t. Maybe he likes this, the sick bastard. “If he hadn’t hit you so bad, you would’ve stayed. Right? He met your needs in every other way.”

Mary shudders. “What are you talking about?”

"I'm talking about self-medicating, Honey. It's what you've been doing. Probably since you were a little girl."

She's disgusted with herself for the tears that break through, unmoored by how Bucky knows all of these things about her, and that he's able to fill in the gaps so easily. “What the hell is your problem, huh?” She swipes angrily at her eyes. “What does any of that have to do with anything? Except for that it’s none of your goddamn business?!”

Bucky softens a little. He glances at Steve, who gives him a warning look. “Sweetheart,” he says, looking back at Mary plaintively. “The drinking and the cutting, the feeling miserable and being sad all the time; that all started after your divorce, yeah?”

That … is not what Mary expected him to say. She’d been expecting more insults, more heartless jabs at her past. “I … What?”

“Answer the question,” Steve urges gently. He looks like he’s in on some secret with Bucky, something only Mary doesn’t know.

“Yeah,” she admits warily. “I mean, divorce is … well it’s divorce. It sucks. Of course I wasn’t happy about it.” She scowls and crosses her arms. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that, dysfunctional as they were, you had very specific relationships with very specific types of men, until what, like a year ago?”

“... Year and a half,” she mutters, unease creeping up her spine at where she thinks this is going.

“Right. And that’s when all your troubles started. Because let's be real: you weren't hurting yourself before then." He tilts his head, feigning curiosity. "Why do you think that is, Mary? Why weren't you falling apart before? When you had a father touching you wrong, or a husband putting holes in your drywall?"

"Stop," she breathes.

He nods sadly. "It was was after, when you didn’t have those people in your life anymore, structuring it, telling you what to do. Once you were alone, that’s when you started to fall apart.” He levels her with a pitying gaze. "Now why do you think that is?"

Oh, hell no. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mary says. She actually takes a physical step back from where she’s standing. “You think what? I was using my douche ex-husband as some sort of a … a dom? My freaking father?!”

“Mary, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” She jabs her finger at Steve, who’s spoken. If she thought she’d been angry at these two before, well now she’s just … she’s just … “You’re fucked up,” she tells them, voice full of quiet fury. “And you,” she points at Bucky. “You might be diagnosed with some freaking mental disorder or whatever, but that doesn’t give you the right to put that fucked up psychology onto everyone else!” She jabs her thumb at her own chest. “I’m normal! I’m not like you. I don't–I don’t have …”

“Mary,”

“No! I don’t. I–I didn’t …” Vaguely, she starts to recognize that her pulse is pounding in her ears, that it’s getting harder to draw breaths. “My f-fa, my, my f-father…”

Bucky stands up and comes towards her. “Mary,”

“No!” She makes to push away, to leave the room, but he closes in too fast and before she knows it, he has one hand on her throat and one at the base of her skull, gripping her hair. And it’s not mean, the way he’s holding her, but when she jerks away it tugs her hair unpleasantly and she whines and stills. “Let go,” she gasps, terrified by the way his hands make her feel.

“Steve, a little help?”

Her heart lurches as she hears Steve move, sees him getting up off the couch and coming over. “Wait,” she whispers, afraid and not understanding why. Not understanding why she’s even whispering in the first place, instead of screaming like she should be. “No, wait, wait—”

Steve is behind her, and even though he’s hardly even doing anything, just has his hands resting on her lightly, Mary still feels a tremor run through her whole body. She feels so trapped. Fixed in place and terrified, but not because she thinks they’ll hurt her.

Because suddenly she can draw a deep breath again.

And she can see the look in Bucky’s eyes, can see how he knows that. “Please,” she whispers, closing her eyes when tears well to the surface. “Please, just, I just need to …”

“You’re okay,” Bucky soothes. “You’re okay, Mary. Just breathe against my hand. Breath against me, against Steve.”

She shakes her head, even though she knows what he means. With her eyes squeezed shut like this, she can feel both him and Steve so solidly, can feel the points where their bodies connect with hers. When she inhales, she feels them there. “What the hell?” she winds up whispering, more to herself than to them.

“You were starting to have a panic attack,” Steve murmurs. He hugs her from behind, and Mary shivers but doesn’t try to shrug him off.

“I don’t have those,” she says. Even to her own ears, it sounds weak. “I don’t,” she insists.

“First time for everything,” Bucky says.

They stand there for a long minute or two. Hell, maybe it’s more. As long as Mary keeps her eyes shut, she can at least pretend that it’s only a minute. It’s only once she opens her eyes that she has to face reality. When she does, she sees that Bucky’s watching her keenly. He looks … sad.

The thought that the man with one hand fisted in her hair and another wrapped around her throat is concerned for her strikes Mary as almost comical. She doesn’t laugh, but she also doesn’t feel close to crying anymore. “I’m okay,” she rasps, swallowing thickly. “I’m okay now.” Shaky maybe, but better. She can breathe again. “Really, I–I am.”

“Yeah?”

She nods, and the motion makes her all the more aware of his hand on her throat. She has to fight back a pleasured sigh at the feeling of it, fight to keep her eyes from fluttering closed.

Bucky shifts in, sandwiching her even closer between their bodies. “So what?” he murmurs. “You want me to let go of you now?”

“Yeah,” she says, not feeling like she wants that at all. “Please.”

He hums. “You’re very good at saying ‘please’,” he observes. “And at telling me you’re not submissive.”

“M’not,” she insists, trying harder to make her voice firm, or at least more than a pathetic, breathy whimper. She looks him in the eyes again.

When had she stopped looking him in the eyes? She can’t remember. She feels like she’s watching this all happen through the lightest sort of fog, or maybe in slow motion, like a videotape playing at only 70% speed. Something like that, she thinks dazedly. She doesn’t feel like she has to worry about it, though. It's warm and heavy and nice here; like being under bathwater.

Bucky’s not looking at her in concern anymore. He looks more relaxed now, nicer, his eyes softer around the edges. And he hasn't let go of her, either.

“She down?”

That’s Steve’s voice, coming from right behind. Mary likes the way she can feel the quiet rumble of it where he’s pressed to her back.

“Mmhm. Waay down.”

“Is it normally that easy?”

Bucky chuckles, it's a nice sound that Mary likes, the richness of it making her want more, like how chocolate makes you want more.

“No, it’s not. This is deprivation, right here. Poor thing.”

“Is she gonna be okay?”

“Oh, sure. We’ll just stay like this for a minute. She needs the contact."

Something about the two of them talking about her like she’s not there is … well it multiplies the bathwater feeling. She hears Steve asking a question, and Bucky making an unhappy noise and answering,

“It should never be this easy. Right now she’d go down for anyone, for even the smallest thing.”

“And she was working in the service industry?” A huff of breath hits Mary’s ear. “Jesus.”

“... Hey,” Mary says, sure that she should protest somehow.

But Bucky’s hand tightens just the barest bit on her throat, and he shushes her sweetly, tells her she’s a “good girl,” and kisses the top of her head.

And Mary pretty much forgets what she was going to say, after that.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

🍵Consider tipping your friendly neighborhood starving artist smut author!

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

fill for

@badthingshappenbingo

card: sarah-writes-stucky / sarahyellow

Square N5: childhood trauma

167 notes · View notes

the-iceni-bitch · 2 years ago

Text

He Gives Me Everything and Tenderly…

Pairing: detective!bottom Bucky Barnes x younger!top male reader (Sarge and Officer Beefcake, NLLYL AU)

Words: ~5k

Summary; Bucky is just fine on his own. He really is. He’s used to it. Even after meeting you and thinking about you a whole bunch, he’s still fine. And he does not appreciate his friends’ meddling.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (mentions of male masturbation, salad tossing, protected anal sex, spit as lube and lube as lube, kinda public sex), meet cute, reverse age gap, tall/beefy male reader, bottom!Bucky Barnes, Bucky is grumpy, hints of angst, love at first sight? lots of friendly teasing, m/m relationship, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: Welp, this was something I wrote entirely in one sitting and I can’t say I’m mad about it at all. This is my first ever male reader fic and I am both incredibly nervous and very excited to share it with all of you! Big ass thanks to the absolutely amazing @howdoyousleep3 for hyping me up and providing some much appreciated perspectives (remember lube, people!)

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

Bucky was exhausted. A long ass shift at the end of a long ass week and he was done, looking forward to going home and drinking a cold beer on his couch while he didn’t talk to anyone for a whole 48 hours. God, he hated people.

Except Darcy, and the cute little peach. Even though he wanted to get the fuck out of there he still stopped by the dispatch desk to chat with his girls and let them cheer him up a little.

“Hey Sarge!” He shook his head when Darcy called him that, her stubborn insistence to call him by his military rank after however many years just one of the many things that endeared her to him. “You look like shit, you finally getting out of here? Maybe gonna see someone special tomorrow?”

“The only people he’ll be seeing are Sam Adams and Johnnie Walker, maybe James Bond… hey!” The peach gave him an adorable scowl when he threw a paper clip at her, rubbing her cheek where it had hit her and sticking her tongue out at him before turning her attention back to her screen. “Don’t act like I’m not right, I’m there every time you drunk dial Nat while you’re binge watching old movies and lamenting your lack of a love life.”

“Tell your girlfriend to quit putting me on speaker or I’m gonna call her ex to chat from now on.” Bucky grinned when she rolled her eyes at him, bringing his attention back to Darcy and sighing when she was giving him a sympathetic pout. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine. I like being alone.”

“You’re lying, but fine.” Darcy shrugged at him, grinning when there was a sudden commotion at the doors and a mess of recruits came charging through into the hallway after Sam. “Hi Sammy, boys! Ooh, hey there beefcake, you run laps around all those slugs on the course again?”

“Maybe.”

Bucky choked when you were standing next to him, trying not to ogle you swathed in those gray sweats and feeling like the world’s dirtiest old man all of a sudden. “They’re getting better, starting to catch up. You shouldn’t call them slugs, Darce.”

“Please, like Wilson hasn’t called them worse, you’re too nice.” Peachy girl grinned when she turned in her chair again and saw Bucky looking like his jaw was about to hit the floor. “Have you met Detective Barnes, beefy?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure.” Bucky took in your name with an almost hysterical laugh when you reached out and shook his hand, not entirely sure what had come over him as he felt his neck getting unbearably hot and struggled to come up with something to say. “Well, I’ve gotta hit the showers, always lovely talking to you ladies.”

“Bye!” Both of them were grinning wickedly at Bucky once you were gone, chuckling when he just spluttered nonsense and looked at the floor. “What the fuck was that, Bucky?”

“Shut up.” He was flabbergasted, he’d never felt such an unbelievable attraction to someone right off the bat, except, once. But he never thought about that. “It wasn’t anything.”

“Oh, nothing at all?” Darcy was still grinning when Bucky growled at her, shaking her head and leaning back in her chair while the peach kept laughing. “So you weren’t staring at his ass when he walked away?”

“Of course not.” It had only been a little bit, you were so fucking tall your ass was impossible to miss, and so high and tight and… no, nope. “What the hell kind of nickname is beefcake, anyway?”

“You saw him.” Peach was practically cackling at this point, the redness on Bucky’s face so entertaining she was considering taking a photo to send to Nat. “The man is grade A USDA prime meat, what would you like us to call him?”

“You’re a couple of pervs.” Bucky just scoffed and ignored them when they told him it takes one to know one, flipping them off over his shoulder and almost forgetting his bag when he stormed out of the precinct to start his much needed alone time. “Inappropriate, gonna talk to HR about you two!”

If it had just been the one interaction, Bucky probably could’ve handled it. Yeah, he had jerked himself off thinking about your broad shoulders and tiny waist and that masterpiece of an ass, but only once, okay three times. But it was just over the weekend, he’d forget about you eventually.

Except for the fact that suddenly he was seeing you everywhere. Every damn time he was in the precinct, there you were, smiling that slightly crooked smile and laughing and making every person light up when you walked through the room. And in the fucking sweats every time, it was like torture. Torture that was made worse by the fact that Darcy and peach were always grinning at him like they knew something he didn’t, and they had apparently told Sam whatever they supposedly knew, so now that man was basically parading you in front of Bucky’s desk every chance he got and making him talk to you and get to see how fucking charming you were. He hated it.

“I do, I love cats!” Sam was chatting with you right in front of Bucky’s desk again and he was plotting how he could get away with murdering the man. “Have a little ginger idiot at home who has maybe two braincells, but he’s my baby.”

“Wow, that’s adorable.” Bucky almost growled at Sam when he grinned at him. “Bucky has a kitty of his own, don’t you, Buck?”

“Yes.” Sometimes he even hated his friends, this was ridiculous.

“I love that, knew you were a cat person.” Bucky almost groaned when you placed your hand on the desk so close to his, looking up at you through his lashes and trying so hard not to melt into his chair when he saw you smiling at him. “What’s her name?”

“Alpine.” You smelled so unbelievably good, Bucky had an incredible urge to lean up and bury his face in your neck, but managed to just turn the photo of his cat around to show you instead. “She’s three.”

“She’s gorgeous.” You winked and Bucky almost swooned, there was something wrong with him. “Shit, I’ve gotta get out of here, got a birthday party to get to. It’s always real nice talking to you, Detective.”

“You too.” Bucky swallowed thickly and shook his head when you walked away, his scowl coming back immediately when he saw Sam looking like he just ate a damn canary as he smirked at him. “Shut up.”

“Didn’t say anything.” Sam chuckled when Bucky just hunched over his paperwork and tried to ignore him. “Buuuuut… hoo boy, you like him.”

“I do not.” Murder was the only answer to these affronts. “He’s too young.”

“Bullshit, is peach too young for Nat?” Sam snorted when Bucky just grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes at the man’s stubbornness. “You like like him, you need to get over that massive hang up, Barnes, it’s holding you back!”

“Man, fuck you!” Bucky jumped when he realized that Sam wasn’t there anymore, so he was just yelling at the bullpen, every member of the team giving him looks of varying amusement before they bent back to their work. “Sorry.”

It was a legitimate hang up, especially when it came to you. Because you reminded Bucky of him.

Specifically of when he was young, when Bucky first realized he was in love and overlooked all of his flaws and just wanted to be wrapped up in him all the time in spite of the fact the man would only look at Bucky like his old friend who he could tell about every single disgusting conquest he made. And that meant you were dangerous. Bucky refused to do that to himself again, it had taken him too long to get over that malicious bastard, and nothing had hurt him more than the realization that he had wasted so much time loving someone who barely gave a fuck about him. He didn’t care how sincere and charming you seemed, he wasn’t going to fall for that same shit all over again.

But it didn’t stop any of his friends from dragging you in front of him at every opportunity, and even though he was polite and listened to you and answered all your questions, it didn’t stop him from snarling at them as soon as you were gone. He didn’t care what they thought he needed, he was fine.

He wasn’t lonely. He didn’t wake up grinding his hips into his mattress after dreaming of sharing his bed with you. He didn’t wonder what you would look like with soft morning light falling across your face while both of your cats jumped on you and Bucky made you breakfast. They all needed to worry about their own lives and quit fucking with his.

Which is why he should have been suspicious as hell when Nat and her little peach and Darcy insisted on taking him out for drinks on a Friday night. All of them together. At a dive bar that was typically just cops. Like they didn’t usually go uptown and dress up.

“Well, look at that, is that Sam?” Darcy bounced on her toes and waved when she spotted Sam with all of his recruits, her and peach squealing while Bucky shot Nat an exhausted look. “Gosh, I completely forgot they’re celebrating the academy graduation, what are the chances?”

“Shocking.” Bucky couldn’t stop growling when Nat just shrugged at him. “I can’t believe they dragged you into their scheming, Romanoff.”

“They’re young and excited, it’s cute.” Nat wrapped her arm around Bucky’s shoulders and started pulling him towards the group. “Besides, you deserve someone nice, and to spend the night with someone besides Alpine.”

“Alpine doesn’t take up that much room on the bed, and I like to spread out.” Bucky just resigned himself to having a miserable night, even when you gave him an easy smile once you laid eyes on him and waved eagerly. “And he might not be nice.”

“Buck, you won’t know unless you give him a chance.” Nat sighed as she rested her chin on her best friend’s shoulder, pinching his cheek and trying to get him to at least give her a grudging smile. “And you know how good my asshole radar is, I’m getting no pings from the beefcake.”

“Yeah, alright.” Bucky steeled himself when you started walking his way, feeling a little tight in his chest and watery in his eyes as he did his best to give you a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi Detective.” Your smile got even wider when Nat introduced herself, shaking her hand warmly then turning back to Bucky and crossing your arms over your massive chest. “Can I get you a beer?”

“I don’t…” Bucky caught himself when Nat looked at him expectantly and blew out a deep breath. “Yeah, a beer would be great.”

“Fantastic, for you too?” You winked at Nat when she nodded before hurrying off to get their drinks with an undeniable bounce in your step that Bucky found he enjoyed very much.

“Listen, Buck.” Nat gave you a very thorough look while you waited at the bar, wrapping her arms around her girl when she came to sit on her lap and Darcy sat across from them. “Even if it doesn’t last, you’re a special kind of idiot if you don’t at least have sex with that man.”

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky felt himself blush up to his ears when all of the women just nodded enthusiastically and started detailing what the two of you should do to each other. “You three are worse than frat boys, oh my god.”

“C’mon, sarge…” Darcy snapped her mouth shut when you came back with Bucky’s and Nat’s drinks, giving Bucky a meaningful look and making a little circle with her thumb and forefinger then pushing her opposite finger through it while your back was turned until Bucky felt like he was in fucking high school. “Hi beefcake!”

“Hi Darce!” You were sitting so close to Bucky he could smell you again, he had to start chugging his beer so he didn’t reach out to bury his fingers in your hair. “I’ve always wanted to ask, why does she call you ‘sarge’?”

“Oh, it was my rank when I was discharged.” Bucky couldn’t handle the way you were looking at him, like he was the most interesting thing in the room, he wanted to fall into your eyes and get lost. “From the army. Darcy’s sister served with me, so she knew me then and the nickname stuck.”

“I didn’t know you served, my dad was in the marines.” You could see Bucky starting to tense up and bless you, you backed off, keeping that easy smile on your face while you nudged his foot with yours. “It’s okay, that’s not something we have to talk about right now, tell me about Alpine, how’s the little lady doing?”

“She’s- she’s good.” Something about the way you instantly pivoted the conversation and didn’t make Bucky feel like an ass for almost clamming up had him relaxing pretty much instantly, grinning back at you and rolling his eyes a little playfully when he thought about his little furry troublemaker. “She’s a brat, but good. Almost gave me a heart attack last week when she somehow managed to climb up to the ceiling beams in my apartment.”

“Oh shit! Really?” You chuckled warmly when Bucky just nodded and took another sip of his beer, plucking at the edge of the label on your bottle and leaning forward a little so you could hear him better. “She get down on her own or did you have to get a ladder?”

“Well, after six hours of pleading and begging, I did finally manage to entice her with some tuna.” Bucky kept watching your face closely, the earnestness he was so wary of constant and never wavering while you listened to everything he said intently. “She’s too smart for her own good, I swear.”

“Fuck, I can’t decide if my situation is better or worse.” You laughed when Bucky scoffed, pushing at his shoulder and shaking your head when he looked at you with mock offense. “No, I love my boy, but he’s a dumbass of epic proportions. The most worrisome thing he’s ever done is get his whole head stuck in a mason jar. Theodore is an idiot.”

“Theodore?” Bucky was vaguely aware of movement next to him after he emptied his beer and set down the bottle, but he couldn’t stop watching your lips move. “That’s adorable.”

“Aw, yeah, my niece named him.” Your smile got even wider somehow and it was making Bucky melt, another bottle of beer appearing seemingly out of nowhere on the table and immediately finding its way to his lips. “It’s her favorite chipmunk.”

Cats. Talking about your fucking cats was apparently the kick in the ass Bucky needed to let almost all his concerns about having anything with you go, letting himself relax and be easy while you told him all these sweet, endearing little things about yourself. How much you loved your niece and how much of a star she was at figure skating. How good you were at baking and you didn’t care what he said, you were baking him a loaf of sourdough to prove it. How you played three different instruments and spoke two languages. You were too goddamn interesting.

And you managed to get him to talk about himself too. How close he was with his sister and mother and how much he loved seeing them as often as possible. How he secretly enjoyed knitting and always made sweaters for the family at Hanukkah but would kill you if you told anyone about his hobby. How he collected old records and could spend whole days just listening to music and drinking good whiskey.

Bucky was more than a little thrilled that you seemed to be hanging on his every word and scooting closer to him until you were right next to him and your shoulders were practically touching.

He had lost track of how many beers he’d consumed by the time people started dancing, but he knew it wasn’t too many as he was just very pleasantly buzzed and staring at your plump, kissable, pillowy lips and wondering what it would be like to suck on them.

“Hey, James.” Bucky had just told you his first name and for some reason the fact that was what you were choosing to call him was making him dizzy. “You wanna dance with me?”

“Oh, um…” Bucky chewed on his lip while he thought it over, he had two left feet when he was sober, and he also wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself if you put your hands on him. “I don’t know…”

“Hey, no pressure.” You winked like you did every time you said something disarming and Bucky decided that he loved that about you. “Just wanted to ask, but if all you want is to talk, that’s a-okay.”

Bucky was struggling with himself. You barely seemed disappointed, it had maybe flashed across your face for a second, but he believed you when you said it was okay. You even leaned back against your chair to give him space, zero hints of malice in your expression and just that perfect, easygoing look that made Bucky feel like you were fine taking no for an answer and you would never hold it against anybody.

And for some reason, that finally sealed it for Bucky that you weren’t him.

“I wanna dance.” Bucky winced when he almost knocked over his bottle when he set it down, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet so he could drag you towards the makeshift dance floor. “Let’s go.”

Your laugh made Bucky beam at you over his shoulder, humming along to the music and turning to face you once you were in the middle of it. His breath caught when you were right there, letting you frame his waist with your hands and pull him even closer while you started rolling your hips to the music. Bucky very quickly decided that he liked having your hands on him, shaking his head and gripping your wrists to keep you in place when you tried to lean back before he slid his palms up your arms and over your chest.

Somehow, even though he knew you were big, your massive size hadn’t fully registered in Bucky’s brain until he was in such close proximity to you. It’s not like Bucky was small by any means, he hit the weights, he never skipped arm day, he’d even been called beefy himself a few times. But you… goddamn. You were like nothing Bucky had ever seen before. He was starting to get woozy from it.

Then you ducked even closer and pressed your cheek against Bucky’s temple and he couldn’t help it, he gasped. He could feel your lips moving against his skin but he couldn’t hear anything you were saying, a low buzzing filling his ears while his fingers dug into your firm chest and he rolled his hips against yours. This was dangerous, he was not going to have sex with you without even a proper date, he wasn’t that easy.

He kept repeating it in his head over and over. When you slipped your arms around his waist and squeezed as you kept guiding his movements. When he buried his face in your neck and groaned when he finally got to breathe in your scent fully. When you nipped at the shell of his ear and made some kind of noise that sent a vibration through Bucky’s whole body. And especially when you grabbed his ass and gave such a dirty grind of your hips that made him feel how fucking hard and massive you really were.

It didn’t matter how much he repeated it though, it only took three songs before Bucky found himself with his back against a stall door in the bathroom with his pants around just one of his ankles and his toes barely brushing the floor while he practically sat on your face.

One of his knees was flung over your shoulder while you licked at his hole, his whole body shivering when you hummed against his skin and dug your fingers into his thighs and he didn’t even care that he was getting eaten out in a public bathroom and enjoying it quite loudly.

“God, I knew you’d be fucking sweet.” You growled but barely pulled back, gripping the thigh that was on your shoulder and pushing it up until it was pressed to Bucky’s side so you could see his face. “You taste so goddamn good, James, once I get you in bed I’m gonna make a full meal out of this ass, shit.”

“Oh… Jesus Christ.” Bucky could barely breathe when your mouth was on his hole again, he could feel your jaw working while you moved your lips and tongue like you were making out with him, all while you kept your intense eye contact and let his cock rest on your face like you didn’t even care. “Oh my fucking god.”

Bucky could feel your chuckle when a whine escaped from his throat without his permission, his eyes rolling when your tongue fluttered all around his twitching skin before you were dragging it over his hole again and sucking until Bucky almost squealed. But then your tongue punched into him and the squeal was ripped out of his chest, his breath heaving almost painfully while you fucked him with the thick muscle until his dick started leaking and twitching against your forehead. It was insane that you were so good at this, you were so young, but your mouth worked like you were a fucking pornstar and it had Bucky feeling some kind of way.

“You’re gonna let me fuck you, James.” It didn’t sound like a question, you were telling him, your face serious while you licked your way up his taint until you could nip at his balls while you slid a finger inside him. “I need it, need to feel you come on my cock, god, you’d better fucking hold it until I’m inside you or I’m gonna spank you, I swear to fucking god.”

“Yeah… yeah, oh my god, please.” Bucky felt like he was losing his mind when you sucked on his balls and pushed a second finger inside him, his legs shaking and his eyes rolling back in his head while he grabbed your hair and held on for dear life. “Oh shit… fuck me, I can hold it, I’ll be good, just fuck me.”

You leaned your cheek against his hip and kept grinning at him while you reached your free hand into your wallet to grab a packet of lube, chuckling when Bucky huffed at you when you ripped it open with your teeth and squirted it all over the fingers you were plunging into his ass.

“You brought lube with you?” Bucky was trying to remain huffy but it was difficult when you were scissoring his hole open so slowly and shit, it felt amazing. “What exactly did you think was going to happen tonight?”

“God, I dunno, James.” You looked meaningfully at the fingers that were currently knuckle deep inside him, wiggling them a little when you looked back up at him with a cocked eyebrow and snorting when he whined. “Would you prefer I didn’t have lube right now? Because I can stop…”

“No, don’t do that.” So much for not trying to seem desperate, Bucky was panting he needed you so bad. “I’m just… talking, I’ll shut up. I can be good.”

“Yeah? You’re gonna be a good boy for me James?” What were you doing to him? Bucky couldn’t help but whimper when you spat on your fingers to slick them up even more and added a third, nodding and rolling his hips into your hand when you just barely teased his sweet spot as you kissed the inside of his thigh. “Yeah you will, my good boy, opening right up for me.”

“Mmhm, yours, oh holy shit.” The addition of your fourth finger turned Bucky’s whole body into jelly, your hold on his thigh the only thing keeping him from crumpling to the floor when you licked a wide, flat stripe up the underside of his cock. “Holy fucking shit, pleasepleaseplease…”

“Shhh, don’t you worry, James, I’ve got you.” You groaned when he let go of your hair to shove his fist in his mouth when he gave you a tortured cry, slowly pulling your fingers out of him and setting his feet on the floor so you could stand. “Turn around for me, sweet thing.”

“Yes… yes sir.” Bucky let his eyes flutter closed when you kissed his temple and turned him around, pressing his cheek against the cool metal and arching his back when you placed one hand on his hip and used the other to pull out a condom. “I need it.”

“I know, handsome.” Your voice was muffled while you used your teeth to rip the wrapper open, nuzzling into the tendrils of hair that were resting against the back of Bucky’s neck so you could kiss him there while you rolled the condom over your length and emptied another packet of lube all over your dick. “You gonna call me sir while I fuck this sweet little ass?”

“Ye-yes… oh fuck!” Bucky practically screamed when your tip just barely slipped inside him, arching his back and whining when you wrapped your arm across his throat and growled in his ear. “Fuck… ‘s big, so big, fuck me.”

“You can take it, big guy, keep being good for me.” You grinned against Bucky’s cheek when he rose on his toes as you kept going, smacking his ass and chuckling when it made him clench as you increased the pressure on his neck. “You feel fucking incredible, Jesus. Been thinking about getting you like this since the first time I saw you, you know that? Did you think about me too, James?”

“N-no.” Bucky already felt extremely vulnerable while he was split open on only half of your cock, he didn’t need to admit to you that he had been dreaming about wrapping his legs around your tiny little waist while you fucked him slow and deep. “I didn’t.”

“Pretty sure you’re a liar.” You grinned and yanked his head back at the same time you gave a final snap of your pelvis and Bucky sobbed, his body shaking violently while you rested your hips against the plush curve of his ass and dragged your tongue along his jaw while you let him adjust. “That’s okay though, big guy, you can think about this. Now, I’m gonna apologize, because this is gonna be a lot faster than I would like, but we are in public.”

Bucky didn’t have any response except a yelp when you started driving your cock into him almost viciously, his breath punched out of his lungs each time your hips bounced off his ass while you sucked on his ear. He felt like he was about to explode, your cock driving into his swollen prostate each time you bottomed out until his balls started pulling tight to his body and his cock twitched. You must have felt the change since you dropped the hand that wasn’t attached to the thick arm that was currently choking him to grab his cock and start stroking him in time with your thrusts.

“Fuckfuckfuck…” Bucky felt like such a whore but he didn’t care, turning his head as much as possible so he could rub his nose against your cheek while he whined. “I’m so close, don’t stop.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want, James.” You groaned when his hole clenched around you, squeezing his cock and his throat at the same time and kissing the corner of his lips tenderly while you gazed into his eyes. “Gonna take care of you. Can’t wait to be able to take my time, enjoy you, god, could spend a whole fucking night in this ass, you’re so goddamn warm and tight. But I need you to come for me right now, James, make a mess on my hand, lemme make you feel good, c’mon.”

The thought of you in his bed and fucking him raw and open had Bucky tumbling over the edge of his climax with a shout, his desperate noises muffled by your lips when you smashed them to his as he quaked in your arms and shot his cum all over your fingers. He sobbed when you didn’t stop stroking him even once he was milked dry, his eyes rolling back when you throbbed inside him and almost lamenting the fact that you were filling the condom instead of pumping your cum deep in his guts and determined to get to the point when he would finally get to feel all of you. As soon as you were done you were bringing your cum soaked fingers to your mouth, keeping eye contact with Bucky as you sucked his cum off them slowly and groaning at his taste then pressing your lips to his again so you could share with him.

“Jesus fuck.” Bucky couldn’t think of anything else to say, smiling almost sheepishly at you after you had pulled out of him and tossed the condom, letting you turn him around and nuzzle at his cheek before you were bending to help him step back into his jeans.

“My sentiments exactly.” You gave him another one of those winks and he wasn’t even mad when he blushed violently. “You gonna be as big of an ass about me taking you on a real date?”

“I wasn’t an ass.” Bucky huffed when you stood back up and wrapped your arms around him, nipping at your bottom lip and grinning when you growled playfully at him. “I was wary.”

“Sure.” You kissed him slow and deep and smiled against his lips when he melted into you before pulling back so he could breathe. “Pretty sure the girls and Sergeant Wilson would agree with my assessment, but we can use your word.”

“Oh shit, they’re still out there.” Bucky screwed his eyes shut and moaned at the thought of the commentary he was going to have to endure, shaking his head when you chuckled and opened the stall door to start pulling him back to the bar. “Can’t we just climb out the window or something?”

“Yeah, I don’t think either of us could fit through that window, James.” You nodded at the tiny one by one glass square and kissed his temple when he sighed defeatedly, holding his hand and letting him follow you when you opened the door. “Besides, if you think I’m not going to enjoy showing you affection in public, I’ve got some bad news.”

Bucky’s retort was cut off by an absurd amount of hollering when you opened the door, his face getting unbearably red and the desire to either tell all of your friends to shut the fuck up or just book it out of the bar overwhelming. But then your arm was around his shoulders and your lips were pressed against his temple, and maybe he could put up with his friends being smug rowdy assholes for the rest of the night if you kept smiling at him like that.

#natalie writes #no love like your love: the city #sarge and officer beefcake #bucky barnes #male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #top male reader #marvel x male reader #m/m fic #m/m smut #m/m fluff #marvel fanfic #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan character

753 notes · View notes

eekshade · 11 months ago

Note

Hello Eli.

I love your Bucky stories.

Could you write something about Bucky and his boyfriend?

After Bucky returns from a long mission, Y/N surprises him with a romantic dinner.

Surprise!

Bucky Barnes x m!reader

Word Count: 1101

Warnings/info: use of y/n, reader is playfully cocky, Bucky and reader live together in an apartment, reader drinks wine, fluff hopefully, not proofread

Y/n frantically raced from counter to counter putting away the ingredients that were no longer needed. His phone buzzed harshly against the counter catching his attention, “Just parked, see you soon.” The message sends his heart into a frenzy. He glances around the warm, dimly lit room, a smile growing on his s/c face as the feeling of pride bubbles in his chest. He takes a small spoonful of the simmering, soft orange sauce, bringing it to his lips; his smile grows as the tangy, slightly thick substance melts on his taste buds.

With a final nod he sets the spoon back onto the counter. He grabs two wine glasses, white napkins (that thankfully arrived on time), and two white candle sticks. The items are neatly placed in their respective places, the wax from the candles rubs off onto his shaky fingers causing an uncomfortable sensation to run through his veins and up his spine.

The loud sound of the door unlocking broke through the quiet apartment, causing the male to jump and swiftly walk to the nearest mirror checking out his appearance, straightening out the suit that draped across his torso. He hears Bucky take a few steps into the main entrance before stopping.

The smell of spices fill the brunet man’s nose, partnered by the soft jasmine and neroli candle lit in the corner of the room, bring a strong sense of comfort to the older man. A confused smirk dances on his chapped lips, he drops his bags next to the front door. Walking farther into the apartment, curiosity turns to amusement when he realizes what his boyfriend has done.

“Darling…?” he calls out, slight anxiety naws on his brain thinking he has forgotten something important “What’s this all for?” He glances around in search of his lover.

The younger man comes out from around the corner, his nervous smile brightens at the sight of Bucky’s lovesick eyes, “Surprise!”

“I -” Bucky searches the other’s face for something, anything, “I’m sorry but I don’t understand.” He says defeated.

“Well, I know how hard you’ve been working and I wanted you to know how proud I am.” As y/n says this he slowly makes his way to Bucky like a fox stalking a brittle, white bunny.

“Thank you doll.” Bucky says feeling unable to comprehend how someone could love him this much.

Y/n takes Bucky’s hand in his own, leading him to the small table adorned in a white table cloth, a dark red overlay and a black runner layered on top. A bundle of roses and baby’s breath sit in a darkly colored vase, candle sticks and all one could think of sat across the placements on each side of the vase.

Y/n pulls out Bucky’s chair for him, laying a quick kiss on the elder's temple as he sits. “And after I can draw you a nice warm bath,” y/n says, dragging out the first word, “even bought you some bath salts and such.” He mumbles onto Bucky’s forehead before leaving another kiss.

Y/n goes to move but Bucky grabs his wrist gently tugging him down to his level, “I love you.” Bucky quietly gushed before planting a suave kiss on y/n’s lips.

“I love you,” y/n echoed, “now can I get the dinner I have just so lovingly prepared?” He jested, Bucky grinned back as he let go of y/n’s wrist.

Y/n walks into the kitchen for a few moments fixing up two plates with the orange pasta gently grating parmesan cheese on top of the dressed up noodles, elegantly walking back to the table and setting them down while softly spinning to go retrieve the deep, dark red wine, before pouring it into the two glasses, finally he pulls a lighter out of his pocket lighting the candles.

“Thank you, y/n.” The use of his first name caused him to glance up only to be met with a teary eyed Bucky.

Choosing to not embarrass the other y/n decides to go the humor route, “Thank me after you’ve tried it, lemme tell you I may or may not be the best cook to ever grace this lovely planet.” Bucky rolls his eyes lovingly at the e/c man.

Bucky is unable to hide his smile as he takes a bite, y/n’s eyebrow quirked up and hummed at the other man, “Oh yeah, I think you might just be.” He grins up at y/n.

“‘Course I am” y/n scoffs.

…

After a slow dinner Bucky feels the tiredness of the day, hell the last few weeks, start to overtake him. Y/n stands and takes the plates to the sink quickly rinsing them before placing them in the dishwasher, Bucky comes up to the other with the empty wine glasses going to wash them. Y/n grabs the glasses out of Bucky’s hand and puts them in the sink while softly scolding him.

“Let me take care of that.” Y/n uttered, “Your night isn’t over yet, come on.” Y/n leads him to the bedroom and connecting bathroom, he follows - content.

“Go to the bathroom and undress, I’ll be quick.” Y/n softly ordered, opening the closet to take out pajamas for the two of them.

“Well, I would say take me to dinner first but…” Bucky snickers.

Y/n rolls his eyes, “Just go.” Bucky puts his hands up and backs into the bathroom.

Bucky whistles eyeing what y/n put together earlier. He sits on the edge of the tub taking off his shoes, he then stands and grips the hem of his shirt pulling it over his head. Y/n walks into the bathroom immediately going to the tub turning on the water letting it run until it turns warm, on the hotter side. He slips the plug into the drain, gathering the supplies, sprinkling the salts into the water.

Once the water is all nice and ready y/n helps Bucky into the water. He steps away to turn on some slow jazz (particularly one album that Bucky listened to all the time when he was much younger), y/n kisses Bucky again right above the eyebrow, he stands to make his exit, both men laughing when his knees pop.

Y/n closes the door and makes his way back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up, and unpacking Bucky’s bags. He smiles widely at the thought of the man in the other room, listening to the very quiet music that drifted out through the home.

MARVEL MASTERLIST

#male reader #marvel x male reader #mlm fanfic #bucky x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky barnes #m!reader #marvel #gay #james buchanan barnes

149 notes · View notes

cthulhu-calling · 2 years ago

Text

Illusions of Love II

Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff x f!Reader

Summary : You’re interning for the brilliant Natasha Romanoff, world renowned Egyptologist and art historian and the woman you’ve had a crush on for the longest time. The only problem is, she’s married. And what’s even worse? Her husband is the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

Warnings : fluff, smut, angst, threesomes, LDR, inaccurate information about Egypt (sorry)

Author’s Note : This is a NatxBuckyxf!Reader story. Whatever I’ve written about Egypt and ancient Egypt is made up and I cannot vouch for it’s validity. Please feel free to correct me if I am wrong. I’ve tried to be as respectful as possible and I apologize if the content offends anyone.

I always imagine reader as a woc but try not to use many descriptive words so my fics can be read by anyone. This work is not beta’d and any and all mistakes are my own. Comments and feedback is always appreciated.

Word Count : 1182

series masterlist

You look at yourself in the dirty mirror, contemplating if you should maybe put some makeup on. Maybe some lipstick. And mascara. Yeah, good enough. You grab a sweater for when it gets colder. You spray a little bit of perfume on and that’s it.

Dr. Nasser lived in Alexandria and you were absolutely dreading the drive. When it was just you and Natasha, you could talk about work or just sit in comfortable silence. But you know the dynamic has changed since James’ arrival. God, it’s just a crush! Why are you getting so intense about this? Natasha had let Mr. Hassan leave for the night so you had to get a fare taxi so you couldn’t even count on him to cut the tension.

You waited near the main tent for the two of them, shaking your leg even as you stood. You have no idea why you’re this nervous. When they did show up, you had to do a double take. My goodness, they’re the most attractive couple you’ve ever seen. You need to calm down.

“Ready to go Y/n?” Natasha asks, smirking.

“Yes, I’d take a good home cooked meal over sandwiches any day. And I can’t wait to see Hen again,” you’re smiling by the time you finish that sentence.

“Yes, I cannot deny that she’s growing on me too,” Natasha says, smiling genuinely too.

“Who’s Hen?” James asks.

“Mrs. Nasser’s cat. She’s adorable,” you gush.

“And chubby,” she points out.

“Chonky,” you giggle.

“Okay, now I gotta see this cat,” James declares.

The taxi shows up and you get into the front even though both of them insist it should be Bucky sitting up front. You’re weirded out but accept anyhow.

“So, Y/n, you’re a grad student?” James asks.

“Yeah, art history. That’s why I’m pretty lucky I got this internship or my job prospects would be nil,” you joke.

“Oh, please, Y/n. You are my best student. You were gonna be fine with or without this job,” Natasha declares and you can feel the heat rise to your cheeks. She’s never complimented you outright before. Not like this.

“Thank you,” you mumble, unable to hold back a smile.

“So, are you seeing someone?” James asks. You can say you weren’t expecting that line of questioning.

“Um, no. Not really,” you mumble. You decide they don’t need to know about the boyfriend that broke up with you when you said you were leaving for three months. Apparently, three months without sex would surely drive him crazy. That day you’d made a mental note, never date an ex-frat boy.

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” he reassures and you can hear the guilt in his tone at the prospect of having made you feel uncomfortable.

“No, it’s just complicated,” you brush it off.

The hand that lands slowly on your knee sends a bolt of electricity through you. Natasha’s small but weathered hand gently squeezes your knee and you find yourself wishing you’d worn something shorter, just to feel her skin on yours.

“I’m here if you ever wanna talk about it,” she says and removes her hand with a final pat. All you can do is nod your head, still reeling from her touch.

The rest of the ride passes in silence. Natasha and James don’t even speak to each other, oddly.

At Dr. Nasser’s house, his wife greets you with a crushing hug. She’s a tiny woman, barely five feet and no more than ninety pounds, but her hugs have never not been painful. As the two doctors and Mr. Barnes make conversation, you follow her into the kitchen where Hen is sitting at the counter. “She’s spoiled rotten,” Mrs. Nasser declares, feeding the big cat a piece of dried meat from her hands. The cat comes to greet you, rubbing herself against you and purring. You pick her up, nuzzling into her soft fur. “She deserves to be,” you say, making the older woman laugh.

You help her set the table, against her vehement protests for you to sit down and enjoy yourself. You find you could avoid making a fool of yourself if you just stuck to Mrs. Nasser’s side. Juvenile, you know, but effective. Dinner is pleasant, the food absolutely delectable. You get to know that Dr. Nasser’s son is in Dubai, working as an architect but he’s going to be visiting soon. Mrs. Nasser offers to introduce the two of you, not bothering with subtlety at all, making heat rise to your cheeks.

“What about you James? No plans on starting a family anytime soon?” she asks. There’s an instant change in the atmosphere in the room. Natasha takes a large gulp of water, putting the glass down on the table more harshly than necessary, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

“Believe me, ma’am, there’s nothing I’d like more,” he declares and you can feel Natasha bristle next to you.

“We’re waiting for the right time,” she adds, looking directly at James from across the table.

“Yes, we’ve been waiting for the past four years for it to be the right time,” he adds, doing little to conceal his frustration. It’s awkward, the silence that envelops the table. After a few moments, Mrs. Nasser clears her throat.

“How about some dessert? Would you be so kind as to help me, Natasha?” she questions sweetly but everyone sees it for it is a distraction to ease the growing tension and no one can deny, it is absolutely welcome.

“Sure,” Natasha smiles forcefully, following Mrs. Nasser into the kitchen. It’s quiet for a few moments until Dr. Nasser engages James into a conversation about the stock market. Or at least that’s what you think they’re talking about, you're not really listening. You’re still reeling from what just happened. Guess they’re not the happy couple you thought they were.

The ride back is jarringly quiet, you’re in the back with Natasha again while James sits in the front, taking phone calls the whole time, at least till you fell asleep, involuntarily leaning your head against Natasha’s shoulder. She shakes you awake just as the car comes to a stop. You wipe drool from the corner of your mouth, embarrassed and confused as to why she didn’t wake you up sooner. As if reading your mind she says “You needed that nap. Plus, you looked cute,” she whispers the last part in your ear, making heat rise to your face.

Once you reached the site, all of you retired to your tents. You longed for your comfortable back home or even one at a hotel in Alexandria. You changed into something more comfortable, warmer before slipping into your sleeping bag. You were exhausted but you couldn’t sleep. The sweet embrace of slumber was just out of reach, your mind going back to the awkwardness of dinner. You grab the book you’d been reading, trying to focus on the words on the page but failing. You toss and turn for a while after, finally falling into a restless sleep.

#bucky barnes x natasha romanoff x reader #bucky barnes x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #female reader #f!reader #smut #fluff #angst #f/f/m #inaccurate information about egypt #i'm sorry

94 notes · View notes

foreverrandomwritings · 2 years ago

Text

•M’s Hundred Celly Masterlist•

I still can’t believe I have over 100 followers! Thank you all so much truly I wouldn’t be here without you! Here is the masterlist for my hundred celly!

•Top Gun Maverick✈️

~Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia

Schoolboy Crush (fluff)

Opposites Attract (angst/fluff)

Changes (angst/fluff)

~Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Fuck Darlin' (smut)

Steel Beach Party (fluff)

~Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Car Troubles (fluff)

Branching Out (angst/fluff)

~Natasha “Phoenix” Trace

What’s In The Honeymoon? (fluff/smut)

Consequences (smut)

~Robert “Bob” Floyd

Flower Crowns (angst/fluff)

Laser Tag (angst/fluff)

~Javy “Coyote” Machado

Training Accidents (angst/fluff)

Darts With a Side of Secret (fluff)

•Marvel❤️

~Natasha “Black Widow” Romanoff

Uncompleted Missions (angst/fluff)

~Bucky “Winter Solider” Barnes

Blind Dates (angst/fluff)

~Loki Laufeyson

Loki and The Librarian (fluff/smut)

•Supernatural👻

~Dean Winchester

Burgers, Fries and Pies? (angst/fluff)

•Twilight🧛🏻‍♀️

~Rosalie Hale

Out and About (angst/fluff)

•Teen Wolf🐺

~Stiles Stilinski

Treehouse Therapy (angst/fluff)

#m’s hundred celly #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #Natasha Romanoff x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #Natasha Phoenix trace x reader #javy coyote machado x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Dean Winchester x reader #rosalie hale x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #stiles stilinksi x reader

31 notes · View notes

lxvrgirl · 9 months ago

Text

i have a love hate relationship with the miscommunication trope but this is wow !!

I Wanna Be Yours

Summary: You are afraid to believe that someone like Bucky might actually love you back.

Pairing: Bucky x Female!Shy!Insecure!Reader

Genre: Angst with happy ending

Warnings: Casual sex (?), misunderstandings, self-deprecation

A/N: I’m actually not very happy with how this turned out but I hope some of you might enjoy it anyway?

Word count: 4.8k

You had never fallen in love before until you met Bucky.

You had spent your whole life wondering when it would happen to you - when you would feel that heart-racing, mind-blowing, bliss-inducing love that you saw so often in movies and read in novels.

Falling for him had been unexpected, like you had been turning corners in an endless maze until suddenly - there he was. This unbelievably talented, unique, intelligent man who treated you with respect and kindness. He showed interest in you when you were too shy to approach him first, talking to you about the everyday mundane, making you feel special. Out of all the incredible people Bucky knew and interacted with, he made you feel like you counted, too.

You worked as a lab tech at the Avengers compound since landing the coveted job two years ago, working closely with Bruce Banner, and had witnessed first hand when Bucky joined the team. He had been quiet at first, introverted, but you watched as he blossomed like a flower. He revealed more of his great sense of humour, wicked smile and subtle charm which made you fall for him.

When you were around him, you felt like your nerve endings were on fire. Every touch from him on your arm, your shoulders, the small of your back, sent pulses shooting through your body and a flush of red straight to your cheeks. The power he had over you was undeniable, and you were certain he knew it, too.

The moment you realised you were in trouble was on a Saturday afternoon, four months after you first met him. He returned to the compound one day with a nasty gash on his forehead and blood crusting his hands, his eyes tired and face pale. The moment you saw him, you knew that if anything were to happen to him, you would have no idea how to cope. Even seeing him with relatively minor injuries made your chest clench in fear and anxiety.

Without a doubt, you had finally fallen in love.

Your first time with Bucky was unexpected. He was perched on one of the counters in your lab, snacking on a pack of cashews as he watched you peer into a microscope. You could barely focus on the work at hand, hyper aware of his presence and ocean blue eyes on your form.

“You’re not supposed to eat in here, you know,” you murmured, trying to hide your smile.

“I know,” he countered, continuing to chew obnoxiously.

You had been harbouring your secret feelings for him for over a year and a half. With every day that passed, you found it harder and harder to figure out what to do. Sometimes you felt that he reciprocated them - the constant flirting, the close touches, the excuses he made to spend time alone with one another. But you were too afraid to ask him outright how he felt about you, and too shy to make the first move.

“How’s your leg?” you asked, if only to distract yourself from your thoughts, referring to the injury he had received a few days ago.

“Much better. Strong as ever.” He kicked it out suddenly as to punctuate his words.

“Hey,” you exclaimed, alarmed. “I wish you would be more careful. Seems you’re always getting patched up lately.” You were frowning, and Bucky seemed amused at your concern.

“Occupational hazard.”

“Whatever. Just don’t bust open your stitches and bleed all over my lab. It’s just been sanitized.” You sniffed as Bucky cocked his head at you, flashing his adorable grin. “In fact I’m violating several health and safety rules just allowing you to be in here,” you said, trying to keep your face straight as Bucky threatened to tease a smile from you.

You turned back to the work at hand, working in comfortable silence as Bucky observed you. He soon seemed restless, however, and you looked up again when he jumped off his perch and walked over to you, bumping you with his shoulder. He smelled so good - like the forest after it had just rained. He looked down at you, giving you one of his trademark dimpled smiles yet again.

“What?”

“I’m bored,” he shrugged.

“Don’t you have top secret, dangerous mission stuff to do?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Your heart was beating fast as he leaned closer suddenly, eyes flickering from yours down to your mouth. He had been doing that a lot as of late.

“Rather do something else,” he said quietly, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

Time stood still. He suddenly closed the distance between you, and then you were kissing. His lips were soft, his hands gentle as they raised to cradle your face, sliding into your hair.

Your hands raised on their own accord to grab the edges of his leather jacket, pulling him closer, feeling surreal as he deepened the kiss.

He pulled away just long enough for you to ask breathlessly, “Is this actually happening?”

All he did was chuckle and pull you back against him again.

You were positively floating as Bucky grabbed your hand and led you to his private floor in the compound, into his bedroom. You thought you were dreaming when he lay you down softly on his bed, undressing you both because your hands were shaking.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, eyes searching your face as you nodded.

“Yes,” you said instantly. “It’s okay.”

That night, you had sex with him for the first time. He held you tightly as he thrust inside you, peppering your face with kisses, making you whimper with pleasure until you both reached the inevitable climax.

You felt you could die happy now as you fell asleep in Bucky’s arms, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

Insecurity was an ugly thing.

You woke up a couple of hours before Bucky, lying with your eyes wide open as the ink black sky slowly lightened, the sun bleeding across the horizon.

You looked at this man lying beside you - this perfect specimen, eyes closed and lips slightly parted as he slept, his chiselled jawline, ruggedly handsome features. The reality of what had happened was slowly sinking in, bringing with it doubts and questions as to what this meant.

God, he was so beautiful. So perfect in literally every way. You were fully aware of his contrast to you.

You had never considered yourself a beautiful girl. You had always been very conscious of your flaws, the way your body didn’t look quite the way you wanted it to, the way you felt that no one really gave you a second look.

I’m bored, Bucky had said yesterday. Were you just a cure for his boredom?

You gnawed at your bottom lip, uncertainties flooding into your system as you recalled the conversation and events leading up to the steamy encounter yesterday. Had he pulled you tighter against him, or had you simply imagined it? Did he do this all the time, or were you an exception?

People had causal sex all the time. You knew that Natasha and Steve had fooled around before and continued as friends only, and a lot of the S.H.I.E.L.D agents you knew had been known to sleep around interdepartmentally, lending to some interesting work gossip.

You knew you were stupid to let yourself think something serious might be happening. You and Bucky hadn’t even spoken about feelings or been on anything which remotely resembled a date. Bucky had been a proper charmer back in the day, you were well aware.

Your heart plummeted as you continued to think. You were suddenly so relieved you hadn’t revealed your feelings for him last night in your stupor. You had been so happy to be held by him, to be kissed by him, but that’s all it was - just a bit of fun. It had to be.

You felt Bucky stir beside you eventually, and you clutched the covers close to your naked body as he opened his eyes and smiled at you lazily.

What was the proper etiquette? Were you supposed to leave as soon as possible?

“Morning,” he said huskily. He looked so adorable that the panic in your chest quelled momentarily.

“Morning,” you smiled.

He yawned, his dark hair unruly as he ran his fingers through it.

“What’s the time?”

You cleared your throat. “Just gone seven. I have an early meeting with Bruce.”

“Mmm. Okay. You have to go now?” He looked at you with what may have been disappointment.

“I should probably get going, yeah. Need to prepare,” you said, eyes scanning the room for your clothes as you blushed at the thought of dressing in front of Bucky, even though he had seen you in all your naked glory last night.

Bucky suddenly moved in close and kissed you, causing your breath to hitch. You felt self conscious about how worn out you probably looked first thing in the morning, but melted into his touch nonetheless.

"Are we going to do this again?" he managed to get out against your lips.

"If you like," you answered carefully.

"I would very much like."

“Me too,” you said shyly, pulling back from Bucky and ducking your head down.

"So you're okay with this?"

Your heart constricted then, wanting to shout loudly that no, it’s not okay, and you actually wanted a serious relationship. But how terrifying would that be to suddenly dump your confessions onto him when the poor man had no idea how you felt?

But you didn’t know what was worse. Just being friends with benefits, or actually confessing your true feelings and pushing him away completely.

“Sure,” you said finally, keeping your voice purposely light. “It’s just sex, Bucky. It’s okay.”

Bucky froze then, his expression unreadable as he stared at you. His eyebrows were slightly drawn together, his lips stiffening as he swallowed.

“What?” you asked carefully, feeling inexplicably nervous.

Bucky was silent for a beat before responding. “Nothing.” He gestured between you with his vibranium hand, frowning ever so slightly. “This is nothing. Right?”

He wanted affirmation. You felt shame flood your chest.

“Right,” you said weakly, turning away before Bucky could see the tears in your eyes. “I better get going.”

He didn’t say anything as you hurriedly pulled on your clothes and mumbled an imperceptible “Bye” before you let yourself out.

As it turned out, it didn’t happen again.

You had no idea what you had done or how you had messed it up, but you had.

You had never done this before. Never casually hopped into bed with a man without something greater at play. You had one ex-boyfriend from your college days who was sweet but you were never truly in love with, and sex with him had happened a few months into your relationship.

You didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to act around Bucky anymore. Didn’t know what he even wanted.

You thought he just wanted a fling. No strings attached. But after that day, somehow, the two of you were never alone again.

He gave you small, if a little curt, smiles now and again and sometimes spoke to you about work-related matters if necessary, but everything else had suddenly disappeared.

A monstrous, ugly feeling gnawed a hole in your chest, slowly over the next two weeks until it was a gaping cavern. Had you messed it up so badly that Bucky just wasn’t interested anymore? Or worse - had it been his objective all along to just get you into bed and then disappear?

No, he wasn’t like that, you decided, quickly dismissing the thought. The only logical conclusion, then, was that your performance had been so poor that he just didn’t want to be intimate again, but didn’t know how to tell you.

You felt so lost. This isn’t what you wanted, not really. You were never one for casual sex, and yet it killed you how Bucky was avoiding you now. You’d rather reduce yourself to his fuck buddy than nothing. That one night with him had been magical, had made you think about an entire lifetime of mornings waking up beside him.

Your misery was clear to see to all those around you, particularly Bruce, whom you had become very good friends with since you worked together in such close proximity.

“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly, exactly two weeks after your night with Bucky. You were prodding about with some equipment you were working on for Sam’s wings. “And don’t just say you are, because I can tell you’re not.”

You shrugged half heartedly. “I guess I’m not. But I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You might feel better,” Bruce said, approaching you with a sympathetic tilt of the head. “You know I don’t usually pry, but I’m kind of worried. I can tell you’re upset.”

“Not upset,” you lied quickly, meeting his eyes. “Just…I need to get out of my own head, maybe.”

Bruce studied your face carefully but didn’t delve any further. “Tell you what. Maybe you’ll feel better tonight at the party.”

You wanted to groan loudly. Tony’s annual charity gala. You had looked forward to it before, the prospect of dressing up and maybe getting a dance with Bucky, but you weren’t quite in the party mood anymore. Still, you decided to maintain as positive of a mindset as you could, returning Bruce’s smile and promising yourself that you’d try and have a good time.

You left work with a slightly reinvigorated mindset as you headed back to your apartment to get changed. Maybe tonight could be a chance to relight that spark with Bucky again - if not that way, then you at least wanted some assurance that you were still friends.

You tried your best to uplift your mood whilst you got ready. You changed into a silky blue dress, one which complimented Bucky’s eyes, you realised. Perhaps this had been in your subconscious the day you’d picked it out. It was a long number, quite form fitting with a modest slit up the leg. You tried hard with your makeup and jewellery, the idea of impressing Bucky at the forefront of your mind as you tried to steady your racing heart every time he popped into your head.

Observing yourself in the mirror, you smoothed down the sides of your dress and tried to practice your smile. You managed to leave your apartment in a much better, optimistic state as you hailed a cab to take you to the gala venue.

It was being held in a new building commissioned by Tony next to Central Park, extravagant enough to rival the Met. You walked into the marble lobby, gaping at the high, vaulted ceilings and chandeliers hanging everywhere for just a moment, before you began searching the crowd for a familiar face.

You found yourself mingling with your other fellow lab techs who were buzzing with excitement to be invited to such an event, and you suppressed a frown as 30 minutes passed with no sign of Bucky.

Eventually, the crowd filtered into the main room filled with round tables where dinner would be served, and a huge glass bar which stretched along one side of the room. People were still socialising before food was to be served, and your eyes were roving non-stop, unable to focus on proper conversation with anyone.

Finally, just when your hope was dissipating, you saw him. He was standing in the middle of the crowded bar, clad in a black tux. This was the first time you had ever seen him in such an outfit, and it took your breath away. He held a flute of champagne in one hand, a complete vision and so different to how you usually saw him, typically fresh off the battlefield in his combat gear.

He was talking to Sam who had his back towards you. Bucky’s expression was unreadable but, as if sensing your burning eyes on him, he glanced towards you.

He did a double take, pausing mid-sentence to Sam, and you held your breath. He gave you a polite, if slightly terse, smile. He turned his attention away from you again, and your heart clenched.

It hurt more than you thought it would. It was just a tiny gesture, and he had acknowledged you, but why did it cause you pain?

No. Stop overthinking. You excused yourself from your colleagues and found yourself walking towards Bucky and Sam, reminding yourself that you were friends. You spoke to Bucky all the time - okay, maybe not in the last couple of weeks, but you had nothing to be afraid of. Just act normal.

“Hey guys,” you said lightly, watching as Bucky cleared his throat and gave you that same, tight smile.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Sam beamed, giving you a one armed hug. “You look stunning.”

You smiled shyly, twisting your hands together as you looked at Bucky.

“Thanks. You both look very handsome.”

As if answering your prayers for alone time with Bucky, you heard Clint in the distance beckon for Sam to go over, and he excused himself, leaving you two stood in a slightly awkward silence.

Bucky raised his champagne and took a sip as you tried to get him to meet your eyes.

“How have you been?” you asked finally. “Haven’t spoken to you in a while.”

Bucky shrugged, finally looking at you. “Been okay. Busy.”

You felt frustration rising. Usually he would be telling you all about the things that had occurred in his day, his daily arguments with Sam, anything and everything in between. But now he spoke to you as if you were merely acquaintances.

“Listen. Did I do something wrong?” you said finally, surprising yourself by cutting to the chase. You just wanted Bucky back, and you let your desperation take over.

Bucky seemed taken aback at your forward approach, but he composed himself quickly.

“Nothing,” he said, his tone ever so slightly blunt. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You felt like you were going to cry. You didn’t know how just a fortnight ago, you and Bucky had been locked in a passionate cinch in his bed, and now he was completely icing you out.

“Okay,” you said, deflating slightly. You knew that if he didn’t want to tell you, there was nothing you could do to squeeze it out of him.

“I’m gonna go take a seat,” he muttered, giving you one last look before he walked away.

You quickly hurried back to your colleagues, embarrassment searing your insides.

The evening passed painfully slowly. You found yourself sat quietly at your table after dinner service had ended and people were either having drinks, chatting out on the balconies or dancing in the middle of the ballroom.

You felt the gala could not get any worse. Until it did.

Natasha and Bucky were in the middle of the dance floor, swallowed up in the sea of couples and yet standing out due to their striking attractiveness. Natasha was dressed in a short, tight black dress, so simple and yet so gorgeous. Her red hair was straight and sleek, and she looked up at Bucky as they danced, his signature almost-cocky smile on his lips. A smile which he had not shown you since that day.

Natasha was effortlessly beautiful. She didn’t even have to try and she could get any man she wanted. Bucky included, obviously. You watched their movements closely as they danced, how they spoke to each other in low voices.

The emotions rising in your chest was like bile in your throat. It burned, it hurt, and it was able to illicit a terrible response in your brain.

You felt so ridiculous.

The dress you had on suddenly felt too tight, too uncomfortable around your stomach. You caught sight of your reflection in one of the large, ornate mirrors hanging off the walls and suddenly felt so ugly. You had tried so hard tonight, and for what? Bucky had barely given you ten seconds of his attention, and at the end of the day, no amount of effort could make you feel beautiful.

You didn’t know how you could’ve let yourself believe in something more. You had to make every effort to even just feel somewhat presentable, but women like Natasha didn’t have to. She was stunning and talented and intelligent, the obvious choice.

God knows why you had been questioning Bucky’s lack of attention. Maybe you had simply been misinterpreting your closeness all along.

You stood then, not wanting to cry in front of an audience. No one would notice you early departure anyway.

You left the ballroom, almost tripping in your stupid heels as you collected your things from the cloakroom.

Shrugging on your heavy coat as you marched through the empty lobby, you yelped in pain as you rolled your ankle clumsily, sending you crashing gracelessly onto the floor. You cursed, coat half-hanging off your body as you felt tears spring to your eyes.

It was the last straw. You were crying as you tried to stand, ankle throbbing, feeling mildly grateful that there was no one around to witness your childish episode. You thought you might have heard someone calling your name, but you ignored it, the roaring in your ears failing to stop.

Your tears didn’t cease, not even when you finally made it back home, ripping off the dress as soon as you could and crawling into the safety of your bed.

Bucky finally found you the next day in your lab on your lunch break. You were startled to see him appear in the doorway, your eyes tired and swollen from a night of crying. You hoped it wasn’t too obvious.

“Bruce isn’t here,” was the first thing you said.

He looked almost annoyed as he walked in and said, “Wasn’t looking for him.”

“Oh. What do you want?” The words came out harsher than you intended. Bucky definitely looked annoyed now, a scowl fixed on his face.

He shook his head. “Never mind. Forget it.”

“Bucky!” Your voice came out loud and sharp as he turned back around. Frustration erupted. “You know what - you have no right to behave this way.”

“Excuse me?” He turned to look at you incredulously, forehead creasing.

“The way you’ve been treating me - the past few weeks since that night - you just ignore me now,” you were practically spluttering, all your feelings fighting to pour themselves out at once. “It’s horrible. I thought we were friends.”

“We were,” he said, looking almost torn.

“It’s not fair.” Your eyes were stinging and you were mortified, hurriedly lifting your hands to wipe them.

“Are you crying?” Bucky asked softly, looking nervous.

“Yes,” you snapped. “I thought we were close - I thought you liked me.” You were humiliated at your confession but ploughed on. “I thought that night meant something. But you -”

“Woah, hang on -”

“Don’t interrupt me!” you huffed.

Bucky took you in his arms, pulling you into his chest as you tried to pull back.

“Calm down,” he grunted, holding you still as you let out an exasperated noise. “Breathe.”

You knew he wouldn’t let up, so you let your anger reduce to a simmer as you focused on breathing steadily.

“Good girl.”

His presence was comforting despite your anger and frustration towards him. He always made you feel safe.

“I thought you liked me,” you repeated in a quiet voice. You were staring at his chest, refusing to look at him.

“I do,” he said, his voice tight.

“No, I thought you liked me as more than a friend.”

Bucky pulled back, lifting two figures under your chin and forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Can we rewind?” His request was soft. “Tell me. What did that night mean to you?”

“Are you really going to make me do this?”

His silence spoke volumes.

You tried not to let your frustration get the better of you. “I really like you, Bucky. I’m not a girl who enjoys sex with no strings attached. Especially not with you. I mean, I enjoyed the sex -” you blushed violently, “- but I - I want more.” Your words were rushed and you stared at the empty spot above his head, wanting to die from embarrassment.

“More?” he promoted.

“A relationship,” you clarified. “I know that’s not what you want. And that’s fine. But if we could at least just go back to how we were, where you actually spoke to me and spent time with me, I would really like that. Because I miss you.”

Bucky looked perplexed as he released you, mouth opening wordlessly. Finally, he uttered, “I don’t want that.”

Searing pain burst inside you, and your face crumpled.

“No, no, no,” he said hurriedly as your vision blurred. “I mean - I don’t want to be friends, because I want to be together. I want a relationship.”

“With me?” you asked, confusion marring your face.

“With you.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” you said instantaneously. “Are you joking? This isn’t funny.”

“Would I joke about something like that?”

“You said you were bored,” you blurted. “You asked me if I was ‘okay with this’.” As you spoke, you realised how groundless your assumptions actually might be, but you refused to believe the alternative - that Bucky genuinely wanted to be with you.

Bucky threw his hands up in the air, looking defensive. “You said it was ‘just sex’! I never at any point told you that this was just fun for me.”

��I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Bucky dragged a hand over his face, sighing. “Okay, I think we may have had a breakdown in communication.”

“But I don’t get it,” you insisted. “Why would you want to be with me? I saw you with Natasha last night.”

“Dancing,” he said indignantly. “Just dancing.”

“You didn’t dance with me,” you shot back. “I - I only went to that dumb thing because I wanted you to ask me to dance.”

Bucky looked pained, biting down on his lower lip with regret. “I didn’t know.”

“I wanted to look nice for you,” you confessed quietly.

“You did. You were gorgeous.”

You laughed humourlessly. Bucky frowned.

“I’m being serious.”

“Sure.” You genuinely didn’t believe him.

“Stop that and look at me,” he said sharply.

His eyes were filled with both annoyance and affection, making you falter. You didn’t say anything when he sighed and stroked your hair.

“I wanted to tell you how beautiful you were. But I just couldn’t bear to be near you. I thought you just wanted something casual. And I don’t think I can handle that.”

“I can’t handle that either,” you confessed. “I really want to be with you, Bucky.”

Bucky beamed then upon hearing your words, relief washing over his face.

“Really?”

How could he ever doubt that? You smiled and nodded, but your smile was fragile and faded at the thought of Bucky and Natasha dancing last night. Even if there was nothing untoward happening, you still felt that he should be with someone as equally impressive as Natasha.

“Yes,” you confirmed. “I want to be with you, but at the same time, I don’t know why you would want to be with me.”

Bucky frowned. “Is it that hard to understand?”

You didn’t say anything, so Bucky continued, “I thought you knew how I felt. I’ve been making it pretty damn obvious these past few months.”

“I thought you were just being nice,” you mumbled. “I did think, sometimes, maybe you had feelings for me, but then I decided it just didn’t make sense.”

“Tell me why,” Bucky said gently.

You took a deep breath, knowing you could be vulnerable around him. “I’ve never felt that I was good enough for you. I feel so average, so normal. And you - well, you’re you. So outstanding in every way.”

Bucky shook his head, lifting a hand to cup your cheek. He smiled slightly when you blushed in response, skin flaming.

“Listen to me. Do you know how I view myself? I’m completely flawed, my morals are sometimes questionable, I’ve done terrible things -”

You were shaking your head vehemently in disagreement, and he smiled.

“See? You’re proving my point. We’re our own biggest critics. And maybe you don’t see how amazing you are, but I do. And I want you. I have pretty good taste, you know.” The way he looked at you made your self-doubt falter - he was observing you like you were so precious, the softness and tenderness in his face making your heart flutter.

You smiled then, Bucky taking a step closer, dipping his head to whisper against your lips.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life convincing you how brilliant you are, if that’s what it takes.”

#bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #avengers fic #bucky one shot #bucky barnes x you #bucky fic #m’s recs

4K notes · View notes