#please don’t judge me too harshly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

grimmsbride · 3 months ago

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big flirt …. ! ₊ཾִ ᖫྀ ⁣⁣.

mark grayson ╲ the almighty invincible has no problem showing his lovely girlfriend how beautiful she truly is..

𖥔 ࣪˖ author’s notes⠀⎯ the way mark canonically likes woman of all sizes just does something to me. he took one look at eve and truly dngaf about her size 😭. as always please enjoy this fic and excuse any grammar mistakes

You hated the internet. The way people crawled from their little depths of hell, fingers slamming into whatever keyboard they could find; typing hatred laced with the most obvious passive aggression that made you want to vomit.

You thought superheroes would be exempt from such scrutiny, maybe they people realize hey, these people save my life on a daily basis— maybe i should cut them some slack! But no, of course such a case was nothing more than wishful thinking.

Posts upon posts of blatant disrespect always collected in some random corner on the web, you unfortunately coming across most of them the moment you searched your super-hero name.

While some posts were.. okay, others were just downright horrible.

Your finger slid across the mouse, the page that shined on your features sliding with the action. A grimace collected on your face as your eyes took in the words before you;

Does she need a bigger suit?

There’s no way she works out everyday. I swear she was at least a little smaller last time she appeared on a camera.

I know the saying, “a camera adds extra pounds” but.. I don’t think we can blame the camera anymore!

You shouldn’t let those words get to you. You were a woman of honor, a superhero praised for your efforts and respected amongst the your peers. And after all, it was all just internet strangers hiding behind their screens. They didn’t personally affect you.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel that familiar trickle of shame filled warmth slide down your spine— pooling deep in your stomach. That was the downside of being a hero— scratch that, a woman being a hero; always on display, and always judged so, so harshly.

You were stolen from your thoughts the moment a hand suddenly shut your laptop, another gripping the chair you currently sat in and spinning it around. Quickly your gaze settled upon your beloved boyfriend, Mark Grayson. So caught up in your self-loathing, you nearly forgot he was over on a rare day off, having just showered — curtesy of the towel around his bare shoulders, and the droplets of water amongst his hair.

You gave a nervous smile, quickly spotting that little furrow of his eyebrows. The man wasn’t one to get irritated with you, but when he did— it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Enjoy your sh—“

“I thought I said to stop looking at stuff like that.” Mark murmured softly, releasing your chair and rising, grasping the towel on his shoulders to dry his hair. You watched, a little too greedily; taking in the way his arms flexed with the movement, toned stomach on display as the sweats he wore hung on his waist so loosely.

“It’s just stupid people online.”

His next words eliminated your perverted thoughts quickly, a sigh soon escaping you as you leaned back into the chair.

“I know.” You breathed, eyes traveling to the side for a moment. “It’s just.. no one ever talks about anything else. I know I’m a little big—“

“Quit saying that too.”

Mark interrupted you with ease, tossing the towel he had to the side before moving to his knees. His hands rose, warm and large, covering your bare thighs before sliding up to your waist. The man rested his cheek upon your flesh, playing with the fabric of your shirt.

“You’re perfect. You don’t need to change a thing.”

You couldn’t help the cheeky smile pulling your lips, eyes even rolling as your hand fell to tangle into his damp hair, “Mark, you’re supposed to say that. You’re my boyfriend, after all.” You giggled, feeling the way his fingers tightened just a bit in response.

Mark turned to rest his chin onto your thigh, chocolate pools focusing on you entirely. “That may be true. And I’ll say it as many times as you need me to.”

“Cheesy..”

It was his turn to grin, hands trailing down to your thighs once again, pressing his fingers into the warm flesh.

“But.. that didn’t only start when we started dating. I always thought you were perfect beforehand too.”

With a turn of his wrist, Mark began to ghost the underside of your thighs, watching the way you twitched at the tickling sensation. Your hips adjusted, glancing down at the man through your lashes;

“Really?”

“Really.”

You gasped the moment he grabbed your thighs tightly, easily lifting you from the chair whilst bringing himself to his feet. Instinctively your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling his hands travel to cup your ass, holding your body flush against his own.

“You know..” Mark spoke lowly, leading himself backwards until he sat on your bed. There, his legs spread, hands pressed down on your hips so you wouldn’t even think about raising off his lap. He looked at you intently, thumb breaching the edge of your shirt to glide across your skin; tracing a stretch mark etched into the flesh.

“I was always obsessed with you.. Your name, your smell, your, “ His eyes carried down your form, “—body. I didn’t know a person could be as perfect as you.”

“Mark..” You begun, whimpering the moment his fingers clenched, rolling his hips just to buck up into you. The growing bulge underneath his sweats nudged against your barely veiled center so perfectly, making your body grow just a bit hotter.

“There were some nights,” The man continued as if listing off a grocery list, as casual as ever, all while continuing to roll his hips every once in a while just to hear you whine. “—I would lay in bed, unable to sleep because you were on my mind.”

You wanted, no needed him to be quiet. He’s barely touched you, has only spoken, yet you already felt yourself losing focus. You gasped the moment he drew closer, feeling soft lips press against the side of your face before traveling to your chin and neck.

“The only way I could even sleep was touching myself to the thought of you.”

“Mark— oh my god.”

You cried softly, feeling his hips move with more purpose, more vigor. A hand of his rose from your waist to instead collect the back of your skull, tilting you how he liked before capturing your lips in a heated kiss. The man wanted to devour you— all of you. Rid those stupid thoughts circulating your head and replace them with nothing but pleasure.

Mark breathed into your mouth, gripping your plush form as he proceeded to manually move you, rolling your hips back against his own rolling ones. He felt your cunt pressed up against him through your panties and shorts, shuddering as the dampness of your center soaked onto his sweats.

You broke apart for air, resting your forehead against his own as little moans escaped you. Your nails dragged across his exposed skin, pulling yourself even closer to him as a sweet whisper of his name fell from your lips.

Mark never allowed his eyes to leave your face, lidded yet focused on you, and only you. His lips parted, watching you, soft huffs escaping as he bucked up. He groaned at the friction, soon leading himself to lay on his back.

Your hands dragged to his stomach, pressing there as you continued to move your hips desperate for more. As delicious as it felt, it certainly wasn’t enough. You craved much more.

“Mark…” You whimpered so feebly, feeling the way his fingers twitched at the call of his name. Said fingers trailed to the waistband of your bottoms, tugging quickly.

“I know baby, I know..” The man allowed you to rise up a bit, basically shoving your lower garments off whilst you focused on pulling his own down.

Once free of the confinements Mark’s hands were finding your hips against, lining you up with his dick before slowly pushing you down. A breath escaped the both you as your walls enveloped his length, your nails dragging across his skin as you took all of him so deeply.

“Look at that, just perfect.” Mark murmured, clearly the entranced by the way your bodies connected. He couldn’t help but focus there, feeling your walls pulse around him with each breath that escaped you. His hands cupped your form, flesh filling his palms so easily— so perfectly. His eyes flicked to your face the moment you whined, watching your hands fall to his wrist.

Mark grinned a bit, seeming to innocently adjust his hips when really he bucked into you, watching your lidded eyes fly open as the sweetest gasp escaped you.

“I don’t think you get how lucky I really am, having all of you to myself.” His words were quickly overcome by the soft squelches of your pussy the moment he began to thrust up into you. Your nails dragged across his skin, a pleasured hiss escaping his lips in response. His gaze greedily lapped at the way your face screwed up in pleasure, lips parted as you moaned.

“Mark.. baby, please..”

“Yeah.. Allll to myself.”

The man giggled softly, as if delirious off your body. It wasn’t that much of a stretch really, Mark was entirely crazy about you. Those thoughts at night didn’t stop the moment you solidified your relationship, maybe they even grew.

Only now the man was lucky enough to have every single fantasy come true.

Your hips rolled as you met each thrust with your own uncoordinated rut, head knocking against your shoulders as your eyes squeezed shut. Mark fucked up into you as if you weighed nothing, and you probably didn’t to him, curtesy of the Viltrumite blood running through his veins. Your hands slipped from his wrists to instead settle upon his stomach, dragging angry red lines into his flesh.

A particularly hard thrust had you toppling over with a gasp, landing upon his chest. Mark took this opportunity to wrap his arms tightly around your waist, feet going flat on the bed as he drilled into you.

You twisted and turned, unable to run from the pleasure as he made you take every single thrust. Your cunt clenched around him, arousal trickling and forming a foamy ring around the base of his cock, a complete sticky mess. You cried out as the feeling overtook your body, intoxicating and addicting, yet so, so much. Your hand brushed against his hip, a mantra of his name escaping in sloppy speech;

“Ma..mark, baby! Pleas— please slow down..!”

“Mm.” Mark hummed defiantly, lips pressing against your face with the sweetest kisses whilst completely wrecking your body. Soft breaths fanned across your skin, his nails digging into your flesh and refusing to let go. With each thrust a wet plap bounced off the walls of your bedroom, urging him even more.

“Feel so good baby.. you were made just for me, fu—fuck what anyone else says.”

Through hurried breaths he spoke, groaning the moment he felt your cunt clenching around him with each word. A hand dragged down to your ass, gripping the warm flesh as Mark stroked that spongy spot inside.

A melodic string of moans escaped your throat, incoherent babbles that oddly enough sounded like Mark! following shortly after. Your peak was closing in, detailed in the way you shook and gasped, cunt pulsing with each movement.

Mark coaxed you through it, whispering such sweet words right into your ear, lips brushing against the shell of it. His hands gripped at your shuddering body, praising every inch, detailing several more perverse fantasies just to hear you whine from embarrassment.

Soon enough you were reaching your end, coming undone with a final sob of his name, tears pricking at your eyes from the pleasure. You felt the man kiss at your cheeks, continuing to fuck into you as he chased his own end.

“Fuckkk.. Mark..!” You keened as he fucked you through your high, wet squelches covering every inch of the room.

Mark groaned softly, tugging you flush against his form as he slammed into you, “Almost there, pretty— almost there, I got you..” A soft swear fell from his tongue, teeth dragging against his bottom lip the moment he pushed himself deep, flooding you with his come.

Pants enveloped the room as Mark laid out amongst your bed, fingers dragging up and down your spine; delighted in the way you melted into him. He simply laid still, eyes focusing on coming down whilst laying so content under you.

Soon enough you had calmed down, slowly rising to sit in his lap, hands smoothing across his body.

“You’re.. such a little pervert.” You murmured, watching the way a little flush of red spread across his face; as if truly embarrassed, as if he hadn’t just got done with fucking your brains out.

Mark rose to lean on his elbows, head tilting to rest on his shoulder as he looked up at you so lovingly.

“Yeah well.. I’m your little pervert.”

The man smiled the moment you began to giggle, eyes closing as you leaned to capture his lips. He was far too happy to wipe that previous grimace off your face with his actions.

Now to figure out who exactly made those posts about you..

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whitexwolfxx310 · 1 year ago

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|| What’s Your Favorite Scary Movie? ||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: After accidentally revealing that you have a masked man kink, Bucky starts taking it to the next level.

Warnings: Smut- MDNI please!, oral sex (both ways!!), edging?, masturbation (F), praise kink, cursing, light stalking, breaking in, harassing texts/calls, and lots of angst.

Word Count: 4.3

A/Ns: Hi babes! This was going to be a short story but she came out kinda long, so I'm going to make it a 2 parter. Don't judge me 🙈 I looove masked men. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. This is also my first time getting more explicit with smut so don't judge me too harshly! xoxo

Snuggled up to Bucky under a comfy blanket with a bowl of extra buttery and salty popcorn, lights turned all the way down, you finally convinced him to watch the movie Scream. While you’ve seen it many times before and are aware of all the jump scares, you still cling onto him a little extra tight in preparation while he is completely unphased. About halfway through the movie, you hear Bucky snort.

“What?” You ask, looking up at him slightly. His face is illuminated by the glow of the tv.

“Something you want to tell me, Doll?” One side of his mouth is tugged up in amusement.

“Bucky, what the fuck are you talking about?” Confused, you sit up to look at him.

He just shakes his head, grinning, “I’m talking about how every time a masked man comes on that screen,” he points to the tv, “you press those pretty little thighs of yours together.”

Your cheeks instantly flush, “You noticed that?”

“I pay attention to everything when it comes to my girl.” Bucky leans back more, resting his arm on top of the couch still grinning, “Tell me about it.” His eyes narrow slightly, something a bit darker lurking, intrigued by this knowledge.

“I don’t know… it’s just like,” you brush your hair behind your ears suddenly feeling embarrassed, “kind of like a kink? A fantasy maybe? There’s just something so dark and exhilarating about an unknown man behind a mask that stalks and is obsessed with you. The anonymity of it I guess?”

By the time you’re done explaining, your hands unknowingly gripped and crossed your chest. Blinking rapidly, you let go and focus back on Bucky who is just watching you intensely.

He nods and purses his lips lightly, “Maybe if I keep watching this movie, I’ll want a masked man for myself,” He teases.

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” You grab a fistful of popcorn and throw it at him, sending you both into a laughing frenzy.

"You're cleaning that up, not me." Bucky laughs.

Him and his messes.

He scoops you in close to his body to finish the movie, and later that night he showed you that no masked man from a movie could ever compare to him.

Three weeks later.

While trying to grab your phone and keys out of your bag, you accidentally drop the stack of mail you had just picked up from the landlord’s office on the doormat.

“Shit!” You mutter to yourself. Bending down to pick it up, something catches your eye. Your apartment door is cracked open.

You stand up, discarding the mail and push open the door, “Hello?” You call out, “Bucky?” There’s no response.

Taking a few steps in, nothing looks out of place or any evidence that someone seems to have broken in. You start going through each room, keeping your phone firmly in your hand just in case. But there’s nothing. Walking out of the bedroom you decide you’re going to call Bucky to see how far away he is since he was on his way over, when you find him standing in the kitchen.

“OH! Fuck me-” You jump at the sight of him and grab your chest.

“Hey, Doll!” Bucky says, like the perfect golden retriever boyfriend that he is.

“Did you just get here?” You ask, your heart still pounding.

“Yeah, why?” he asks curiously, absentmindedly grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl off the kitchen counter and taking a bite.

“Um, yeah me too. It’s just-”

“Just… what?” He takes another bite.

“It’s just that... my door was open when I got here?”

“What?” Bucky’s face instantly changes, his eyes wide and anxious, “Go wait in the hallway until I look around.”

“I already did that-”

“Please?” He pleads as he throws out his barely eaten apple, already coaxing you towards the door.

Crossing your arms, you go and wait in the hallway while he looks around. After a few minutes he brings you back in.

“Everything looks to be fine, but I’m going to stay the night just in case.” You breathe a sigh of relief at Bucky’s words.

“Maybe maintenance came in and forgot to lock back up. I was having all those issues with my heater a few months ago,” You try justifying.

“Yeah maybe,” he says, with a small shrug of his shoulders.

About a week later is when the phone calls started.

Initially it was just 1 or 2 a day from a restricted number that you never picked up, assuming it was some kind of solicitation about your car’s extended warranty. But no voicemail was ever left.

As a few weeks went by though, it started to feel like borderline harassment. The number of phone calls jumped to an average of twenty times a day.

Sitting at your work desk your phone continued to violently vibrate, the words Unknown Caller lit up on the screen. You ran your hands through your hair, letting them linger on your scalp, starting to feel stressed every time your phone rang.

"Hey babes!" Hailee, your coworker/bff storms unannounced into your office, "You ready to grab some lu- oh my god. Are they calling you right now?" Obviously aware of the situation, she scurries around your desk in her too high heels and answers your phone. Clearing her throat, "Hi, thank you for calling Tammy's Whorehouse where we suck and fuck. How can I help you?" She taps an inpatient finger on her hip, waiting for a response and then the line goes dead.

Your hands fall down into your lap with an exacerbated breath, "No one ever answers."

"Have you tried tracking the number?" She puts the phone down and sits on top of your desk.

"I've tried calling my cell service, they can't do anything about it. If it keeps up, I just might change my number." You shake your head, "This is going to sound so dumb, but it has me so distracted. Apparently, I've been forgetting to charge my phone at night too? I swear I put it on the charger but then it dies in the night and that's why I've been late to work a few times."

Hailee tilts her head to the side, giving a sympathetic frown. "Sorry, girl. Hey!" She tries perking up, "Why don't we go get lunch and iced coffees? My treat?!" Her bright smile and shimmying shoulders get you to crack a smile. Jumping off your desk she claps her hands, "Yay!"

Suddenly there's a knock at your office door. Both of you stop the mini-iced coffee celebration and snap your attention to the nervous, uniformed teenager standing in the doorway.

"Delivery." he says shyly, looking between the two of you.

Hailee raises an eyebrow and smirks, looking you up and down, "Well, it wasn't delivered to my office."

You roll your eyes as you get up, smoothing your skirt down. Walking up to the boy, he quickly hands you a rather large bouquet of flowers. The intoxicating floral aroma hits you almost immediately, you cannot help but be astounded by the arrangement. Each individual flower is rather large, some darker than others; Ombres of red and burgundy into black.

"They're beautiful," You admire, inhaling deeply. "I don't think I've ever seen these before. Do you know what kind of flowers they are?" You ask the teen curiously.

"Black dahlia's," he recalled, and your stomach felt like it dropped with the mention of the name. "I don't think we've ever gotten a request for those at my family's shop before. That's the only reason I remember," he shrugged.

"Does Bucky have a brother? Because like, are you kidding me right now?" You glanced at Hailee who was making an over-the-top pouty face.

Asking the teen if he had CashApp to tip him, you quickly ushered him off. Searching through the flowers to see if there was a card or any indication that they were in fact from Bucky, but there wasn't.

That night, Bucky came over for dinner. He brought take out from a local Greek place that he really liked, but you were distracted. Just pushing the food around on your plate.

"You okay, doll?" His forehead puckered slightly in question.

"Yeah, um," You shake your head to try and focus, "Hey, thanks for the flowers today. That was super sweet and unexpected," considering you've been kinda stressed.

"Flowers? What flowers?" Bucky's posture stiffens.

"I got flowers delivered to me at work today, I just assumed it... was from you? Maybe it was a mistake then." There were suddenly mixed emotions being stirred around in a frenzy. If Bucky wasn't the one who sent the flowers, then who did? You tried saying they were dropped in your office by accident, but it just didn't feel right. It felt intentional.

"Well, honey, I don't know who it was, but it wasn't me." Bucky stands up from the kitchen table, grabbing his dinner plate. "Are you done?" He asks gesturing to your plate. You nod and he takes it as well, "But it's something I should do, and I'll be more conscious of it. I'm sorry,"

"No, Buck I wasn't-"

His lips press to the top of your head, "No, you're right. If anyone should be doing it, it should be me. Let me take the garbage out for you and we'll have the night to ourselves, yeah? Anything you want."

"Anything?" You repeat, in singsong with a grin.

He shakes his head, scraping the scraps from the plates into the garbage returning the grin, "I like where this is going," Tying off the bag, he holds up two fingers, "give me two minutes," he opens the door to the apartment and starts jogging down the hallway, "two minutes!!" you hear him call out.

The door to the apartment doesn't even fully shut before you hear the familiar buzz coming from your bag. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you angrily push away from the table and stomp over to the counter, dumping out your purse just to see Unknown Caller lit up on your phone.

You hit the green button so hard it doesn't register, so you do it again until it answers, "Hello?! What the FUCK do you want?!" No answer. But this time, you can hear someone breathing heavily. "You need some help. Seriously, leave me the fuck alone!" Hanging up, you slam the phone down onto the counter.

"Doll?" Bucky asks from the doorway, he sighs, "Was it that number bothering you again?"

"Yes!" You answer, flustered. "The next step is to just- change my number! I don't know what else to do."

Bucky steps in, closing in the door behind him with the back of his boot. His lips are pressed in tight line, "C'mere, darlin'," he holds his arms wide open, eyes soft. Dragging your feet, you meet him halfway and lay your head on his chest, "It's gonna be okay," he coos in your ear. "It's just some asshole with nothing better to do. They'll get bored soon enough. Worst case, we'll change your number. We can even go down to the store tomorrow and get you a new phone?" Bucky offers, trying to be optimistic as he caresses your arms up and down.

"I was just really hoping it wouldn't get to that point." You admit, pulling away from his chest just enough to look up at him.

"We'll do what we have to." Bucky smiles, cupping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before pressing his lips to yours.

Letting your lips linger a moment as your eyes close, you inhale deeply, taking in the cypress scented soap still lingering on his skin from a shower he took earlier. It's your favorite. Hence why you keep buying it every time he runs out. Bucky's lips separate yours, and when just the tips of your tongues connect, a barely audible whimper escapes your mouth.

Like a gun starting a marathon, it was all Bucky needed to hear. Reaching down and gripping behind your thighs, he hoists you up. With a delighted squeak, you wrap your legs around his torso, laughing but keeping your lips on his as your hands run through his short hair. Using one hand flat against your lower back to keep you pressed into his chest, Bucky's other hand firmly grasped your ass. His fingers purposefully grazing the inseam of your jeans between your legs as he walked towards the bedroom.

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, keeping you both upright. You break the mashing of tongues to re-adjust your position and straddle him. Leaning in, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, letting your teeth graze just a tiny bit before letting go. Bucky exhales a drawn out, low groan before licking his lips. The look in his eyes is absolutely carnal as he tugs your shirt over your head and throws it across the room. Not even bothering with your bra, he just pulls the black lace cups down beneath your breasts, propping them up in exposure as he dips down to flick his tongue across your nipple.

Initially it makes you shudder, but as he continues to suck, nibble, lick, repeat, you find reprieve in grinding your hips down into the ever-growing bulge in his pants. Bucky lets out a stifled groan before switching his mouth to your other nipple. You smirk to yourself; you just love to tease this man. Although, if we're being honest, this isn't so easy on you right now either.

Roughly gripping both sides of his face, you bring his lips back to yours. You’re starting to feel needy for more of his touch. Becoming desperate to relieve this fuel lit fire. Bucky’s hands were firmly placed on each of your ass cheeks, assisting your already rolling hips forward and back. He snakes one hand between your bodies, slipping it down the front of your pants, his finger sliding once between your slit. You both moan loudly in unison into the kiss.

"Fuuuck..." Bucky breathed, tilting his head back just slightly that your lips pull apart. "You're already so fucking wet for me," his lascivious eyes lock onto yours, his breathing already becoming rather ragged.

Hearing his debauched voice, knowing just that single glide of his finger has him aching so badly, has ignited a new spark in you. "It's all yours, baby," you purred. Biting the bottom corner of your lip, you slowly get off his lap. Hooking each of your pointer fingers into the front pockets of Bucky's jeans, you encourage him to stand up as you drop to your knees before him.

As he's fumbling with the button and zipper, you stare up at him with tantalizing eyes, your hands firmly grazing along his muscular thighs. Once he's able to get it open, you help start to shimmy down his jeans and boxer briefs passed his hips until they pool on the floor. Bucky's thick, long cock springs up at almost eye level in enthusiasm, instantly making your mouth water. Sticking your tongue out as far as you possibly can, you lock eyes with Bucky and press the tip to your tongue, dragging it to a flick.

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, his body quivered at the first contact. You smile as you taste the initial saltiness on your tongue, licking your lips before hollowing out your cheeks and taking him into your mouth. Bucky exhales deeply, his head starting to tilt back but he stops, making sure he maintains eye contact with you. You draw back, pressing your tongue upward firmly, go forward, and go back again. After a moment, a rhythm gets going, you now move your tongue side to side as you bob front to back, sucking harder.

"That's it," Bucky coaxes, "That's my good fucking girl," a small whimper escapes your throat at his words of praise. You clamp your legs together a little tighter as it's getting harder to ignore the incessant throbbing and growing wet spot between your legs.

The next thing you know, his hands are in your hair, gathering it up into a makeshift ponytail. Grasping his shaft with your hand steadily, you use that to guide your mouth, twisting and gliding easily. You know it's his weakness. Bucky's hips start to buck up into your mouth as he pulls your head down further onto his throbbing cock. Through now teary eyes you’re determined to watch as his face starts to contort with pleasure, his moans music to your ears just as your gagging is to him.

"You look...Ahh...so...fucking...pretty," Each word comes out with a drive of his hips into your mouth. In the dim lighting of the room, completely blissed out on pleasure, he looks like a fucking god. And he's mine. The thought alone is enough to make you explode. "Ugh!" Bucky growls, "I can't take it anymore! C'mere!" With a small 'pop', he pulls out and grabs underneath your arms and tosses you onto the bed.

Giggling, you wipe the excess saliva off your swollen, red lips as you push back further onto the bed. Bucky pulls your jeans and panties down and off in one swift motion before kneeling onto the bed. His eyes are glazed over, solely focused on between your legs. He crawls upward, and it's purely feline as he dips down, his mouth creating a seal and sucking once.

The combination of a loud moan and gasp get ripped straight from your lungs as you practically convulsed off the bed from being so aroused. Bucky quickly and securely locks your thighs in place to keep them open and from you going anywhere. He grinned, watching every single movement.

"Eyes on me, princess," he ordered. Pressing down on your lips, you nodded in anticipation. Leaning in, Bucky skimmed his lips on your very inner thigh, placing a feather light kiss that made your entire abdomen tense.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

"Fuck," Bucky sits back up on his knees, taking his phone out of the pocket of his jeans that was still around his ankles. "Hello?" You stare up at him in complete disbelief, "What, now?" He looks down at you on the bed, giving a sympathetic look and mouths 'sorry'. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he drags a hand down his face. "Yeah... yeah. No- I understand... Okay. Yep. I'll be there. Bye." He hangs up the phone.

"Don't say it," you bite out, crossing your arms over your chest and closing your legs.

Bucky takes a deep breath, "I have to go back, a mission came up."

"Annnd, you said it," you look up at the ceiling, refusing to keep that eye contact that you were so adamant on not even a minute ago.

"It sounded pretty important, Doll." Bucky is off the bed, pulling up his pants and re-adjusting himself in them.

"It always is," you mutter under your breath. Sighing, you just accepted the fact that your night is completely ruined. "So, what you're telling me is, that I'm getting cock blocked by The Avengers?"

Bucky sits on the bed, placing a delicate hand on your cheek, "I'm really sorry. I'll make this up to you tenfold, promise." He kisses you softly, "I have to go. I'll contact you as soon as I can. I love you," He offers a small smile.

You sigh, knowing you can never let him leave on bad terms, "I love you too, Buck." Sitting up you give him a hug and a few extra kisses that probably made him late.

Still sitting in bed after Bucky had gone, you felt irrationally irritated by how he left. Tapping on your thighs, a headache was already brewing from the pent-up sexual tension that you were unable to get out. That's when you suddenly remembered a little something on your phone that might just help you out in this situation. There was this one particular time you and Bucky decided to record yourselves having sex, and you've never went back and watched it. If there was ever a time to go back and do so...

Excitedly, you go over to the dresser. You pull open your underwear drawer and dig through all the way to the back, where you stash your favorite vibrator. You click the silicone button a few times to make sure it's charged, and all the intensity settings worked before laughing menacingly to yourself and closing the drawer. Tossing the toy onto the bed, you walk out to the kitchen.

Your phone was where you had left it earlier, still slammed face down on the counter. Sashaying over, you notice that there's an applecore sitting next to it. This is odd, because you didn't have one and Bucky is normally very meticulous when it comes to cleaning and picking up after himself. Going to throw it out, you realize there is no garbage bag in the trash can and suddenly it makes sense. Bucky was in a rush to leave; he probably didn't have the time to replace the bag. So, you do it yourself, and throw out the eaten fruit.

Getting back to your room with your phone, you notice that your underwear drawer is open. Pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes, you look from the bed, to the dresser, back to the bed. I could have sworn I closed that. Then again, maybe it's just the headache coming on. You close the dresser drawer, and all too eagerly jump under the covers.

The ambiance for a little 'self-love' right now is almost too perfect. Your bedroom is dimly lit with only a mood lamp and the fog covered streetlamps from down below your apartment. The light patter of rain hit against your bedroom window and fire escape underneath it, while some light thunder rolled some distance away.

Scrolling through your phone, it wasn't hard to find exactly what you were looking for. Pressing 'play', you're watching a side view of you taking Bucky from the back. Your mouth drops open slightly, seeing it from a third person view. Bucky has his Vibranium hand on the side of your face, pushing you down further into the mattress and he is just relentless. And the sounds, God the sounds. You grab the vibrator, turning it on and quickly placing it onto your already sensitive and swollen clit and start rubbing it and soft circles.

"Look at how good you take it,"

"Oh, God!"

"Are you gonna come for me?"

"Mhm,"

"I can't hear you, princess,"

"Can I come Bucky? Please, please let me..."

"Of course, my good girl can come. Here... lean down more...open those legs wider...touch yourself...yeah...fuck, yeah...just like that baby,"

The bed is practically shattering underneath you as Bucky, who isn't even there, coaxes you into having an orgasm with yourself. You rub the vibrator more intensely, knowing you’re about to come hard from the pent-up tension this evening. The lights surge briefly in the apartment from the passing storm, just as your head presses down further against the pillows and the ripples of pleasure aggressively take over your body.

The lights go out momentarily, and that's when you see the silhouette of a tall, dark hooded figure standing on your fire escape looking into your window.

The lights come back on a second later and you’re panting. Both from the release and from what you saw. The cognizance hits you that you just came in front of a total stranger. Oh, and maybe that I might have a stalker.

The cops came, looked around, made you feel like an idiot, took a report, and left. Not feeling comfortable staying in the apartment for the night, you called Hailee, who offered up her spare bedroom.

Sitting across from you with her legs crossed on the couch, her hair in a bonnet, a glass of wine, and blue raspberry vape, she leaned in, listening intently to the details leading up to this moment.

“Soo… you know I’m gonna ask,” she starts.

You sigh, “I don’t know when I’m going to tell Bucky. I always feel so guilty when he’s away and something happens.”

Hailee’s face scrunches as she waves her hand in dismissal, “No, no not that,” You raise an eyebrow at her in confusion. “Can I see it?” She lowers her voice, but it’s oozing with hope.

“Bitch,” both your eyebrows raise in aghast, realizing what she’s actually asking.

“What?! Come onnnn,” She whines, pressing her hands together in plead and pouts her lip.

“Oh my god, Hailee! No! Just… no.”

Rolling her eyes she composes herself again, “Okay, so like, you ever just… look at a man, and you just know?” Her hands wave around as she’s trying to explain, “Like, that man can fuck? I feel like that’s Bucky. And so…” Hailee looks so determined right now, “s-shame on you!” She points directly at you, this is comical, “for not sharing the video evidence! Because now I’m convinced you have a boring, vanilla sex life!”

Leaning back against the kitchen counter sipping your glass of water, you hear yourself coming down from the highs of ecstasy through your phone. Hailee’s wide eyes are glued, mouth dropped open, speechless, for once. The sound finally cuts off.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a brother because-”

You quickly snatch the phone out of her hand, “Okay, you got what you wanted. Can we be serious now?!”

“Yeah,” Hailee shakes her head, “yeah, of course…” she takes a deep breath, “I’m just saying, you seriously have some career options if your current job doesn’t work out though.”

“Hailee!!”

“Okay! I’m sorry!” Her hands go up in a surrender, “but you put in a police report, and I mean, of course you can stay here. What else are you going to do?”

*Ding*

“Hang on, I just got a text.”

“Who the fuck would be texting you this late?” Hailee asks, getting off the couch to read the text with you over your shoulder.

Together you read the message:

Part 2

If you enjoyed this, please check out my masterlist

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galaxywannabe · 21 days ago

Text

The Miscommunication Trope™

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: After getting into the first real argument of your relationship, some misspoken words from Bucky leave you thinking that he's done. By the time he realizes just how badly he screwed up, will it be too late to correct his mistake?

Warnings: Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Miscommunication; Crying; Arguing between romantic partners; Bucky is mean but he makes up for it; Happy ending; Reader identifies as a woman and uses she/her pronouns, but other than having hair that can be swept behind an ear I don't think there are any other physical descriptors; Please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: Almost 9.3k.....I'm sorry lol

A/N: Ummm....so. I'm fairly certain I promised this fic, like...3 months ago? In fact, I actually just went back to look and I first teased this fic on Febuary 19th, so um...lol? I made it! Listen, idk if it's even any good anymore but if I look at it for another second I'll scream, so please take it off my hands. Any and all comments or reblogs would be SO appreciated because this has truly been a labor of love, I didn't know if I had it in me. Also!! I have not forgotten @buckyinmyuniverse - you asked to be tagged in this wayyyy back when I first posted about it and I have FANTASTIC news for you babe: The wait is finally over!! I know you've no doubt been refreshing your feed for months looking for it (/j) but this whole time I was cooking this thing I remembered you asking for a tag. So, this one goes out to you. Hope you all enjoy! <3

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You and Bucky hadn’t ever been in a fight before, not really. You bicker, sure, usually over something lighthearted, usually resulting in an eyeroll and a “whatever you say, honey,” from Buck, but nothing serious, nothing that can’t be worked out through a civilized conversation. That was, until today.

You weren’t even trying to start an argument, you were just expressing your concern. He works too much, he takes more missions than anyone else, and it’s running him ragged, anybody can see that.

Obviously, you miss him when he’s away, but that’s not even the point - the point is that he’s taking on too much because he thinks he owes the world something, and that’s not sustainable, it’s not good for him. All you said was that maybe he’d ought to ask Fury to take him off the rotation for a while, or even just cut down on his assignment load, to give him some room to breathe. And Bucky got…defensive.

Obviously, you knew that was a possibility. Typical male pride of course prohibits silly ideas like “self care” and “burnout,” but on top of that is Bucky’s specific brand of guilt, the kind that makes him work himself into the ground no matter how badly his brain and body beg him to stop.

The defensiveness you were prepared for, but you were only coming from a place of love, your concern that of a devoted girlfriend, and surely he’d understand that, wouldn’t he? Except he hadn’t. He’d immediately dismissed your suggestion, waving a hand and continuing to type up his latest mission report with a laser-like focus.

“I don’t need a break, I’m fine,” he’d muttered, eyes trained on the bluish light of his laptop screen.

Again, you weren’t trying to argue. You certainly weren’t going to force him to take a break, you just wanted him to at least consider it, to remind him that it would be okay for him to rest a little, if he wanted to. The world would go on without his help for a few weeks, and there were other heroes available besides him.

“Honey, I know you might not need one, but it’s okay if you just want one. No one would judge you if-”

And then he did something he’d never done before: he snapped at you. He didn’t even look up from his screen, his fingers still a steady staccato on the keyboard as he barked out harshly.

“I said I don’t need a fucking break. I’m just doing my goddamn job, and I don’t need you breathing down my neck watching my every move the whole time I do it. I can take care of myself.”

You winced. Obviously, that stung, and if he’d bothered to look up from his computer screen, he might have seen that on your face. But you could tell he wasn’t as unbothered by this conversation as he was acting.

Despite his brusque attitude, your words were striking a chord with him, hitting a little too close to home. His shoulders were stiff as a board, bunched up around his ears in a telltale sign of defensiveness, and you understood, really you did.

For Bucky, doing this job is the one way he can even attempt to atone for all the bad shit he’s done. Of course he felt uncomfortable with the idea of a break, he thinks he has to do these missions as some sort of self-imposed penance for the things he’d been made to do as the Winter Soldier.

So you didn’t judge him too harshly for lashing out. You understood the reason he worked so hard, and you knew what motivated him to continue going out there even when he was exhausted. You just wanted him to see that taking a break for his own mental health wasn’t a bad thing, that even if he was making amends he still needed to find time to take care of himself, too.

You took a deep breath and spoke in a calm voice, hoping to express your concern in a nonthreatening manner even as he still refused to look at you.

“Angel. I’m not trying to breathe down your neck or tell you how to do your job. I know it’s important to you, and I love how hard you work! It’s just that, super-soldier or not, if you want to continue to do this job, you’re gonna need to stop and rest at some point, honey. That’s all I’m trying to say. I’m worried about you, love.”

Finally, he looked up at you, and your heart fluttered just seeing those baby blues you love so much. Until you clocked the scowl on his pretty face, and the hope in your gut curdled to dread. He was angry, you knew what that looked like, but in the six months of your relationship so far you’d never once seen that anger directed at you before.

It wasn’t frightening in a physical sense, not like you were scared for your well-being, of course not. But it deeply unsettled you, seeing the man you love looking at you like that. It made you want to apologize, though you weren’t quite sure what for. Before you could do anything at all, he spoke, his voice a cold, steel edge.

“You don’t know anything about what I can handle. I was doing just fine before you came around, and I don’t need you fussing over me at every turn just because I don’t sit around here all day scrolling on my phone or whatever it is you think I should be doing. I don’t need or want your hovering, so just stop, okay?”

There was silence. His shoulders heaved in the wake of his outburst, and you felt almost dazed, like this was some kind of mirage you could will away if you blinked hard enough. He’d never spoken to you like that.

Obviously, you’d hit a nerve, and while logically you understood that, it didn’t lessen the pain in your chest. You were just worried about him, why was he fighting like you were trying to strap him down and force him to quit?

While you tried to regain your bearings, breathing deeply and forcing back the stinging you felt building in your eyes, he slammed his laptop shut, standing and stalking towards your bedroom door. He’d come over to your place to work on his mission reports at your insistence because you’d wanted to keep him company, and now it appeared he was leaving.

“W-where are you going, what are you doing?” you’d squeaked, alarmed, following after him as he made his way to the foyer of your apartment and shoved his feet into his boots.

“I can’t fucking do this, I'm done,” he’d muttered in a gruff, hard voice, lacing his boots efficiently and standing back to his full height as he reached for the doorknob.

You shook your head, panicked, reaching for his arm and trying futilely to drag him back into your apartment. “Baby, please. I’m sorry, don’t go.”

But he just shook off your hold and stalked out the door, leaving you there as your eyes blurred with tears. After standing there in your foyer for several minutes, waiting for him to turn around and come back, you’d simply fallen to your knees and curled up right there on the polished wooden floor, bawling your eyes out.

That’s where you still are a couple hours later when your phone starts to vibrate incessantly in your pocket. You pull it out with trembling fingers and swipe to answer a call from Natasha.

----------------------------------------------------------

“H-hello?” you croak into the receiver.

The second Nat hears you pick up the call she’s talking, looking distractedly through her closet as she holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder.

“Hey honey, listen, me and the girls were thinking about running to Target, and we wanted to- wait, what’s wrong?” Natasha’s cheerful voice quickly drops into something soft and concerned as she picks up on the sniffles coming through her tinny cell phone speakers.

For a few seconds all she can hear is you sobbing quietly, the way you struggle to slow your hysterical breathing so you can put together a sentence. “H-he left, Nat. He broke up with me,” you whimper, voice barely audible.

This stops Natasha in her tracks, her brow furrowed in deep confusion as she freezes with one hand reaching for her favorite sweater. What the fuck? Why in the hell would Barnes break up with you? Especially when she knows for a fact that on the last mission she had with him, he stopped into a jewelry shop in Germany ‘just to look’ at engagement rings? This doesn’t make any goddamn sense.

“Honey,” Nat speaks into the phone again, her voice soft and soothing even through the crackly audio coming from your cell phone. “What happened, what did he say?”

You sniffle again, and clear your throat so she can hear your scratchy voice a bit better. “We…there was a fight, a-and I didn’t mean to, Nat, I swear, I was just worried, but…he said he can’t do this anymore, that h-he's done, and then he left. He didn’t take any of his things with him, but maybe he’s gonna come back for them, I don’t know…I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Nat…” As your sentence tapers off, your voice fades out, and a few renewed sobs float over the phone call into Nat’s ear, the sounds soaked in agony.

Oh, okay. Nat thinks she can see what really happened here just from your description, but that doesn’t make the sounds of your misery in her ear any less painful to hear. Likely, when Bucky had said he couldn’t do “this” anymore, that he was done, he’d meant the argument, the conversation, not your relationship.

But Barnes is your first real boyfriend, and you’ve never had a fight with him before. You were probably so confused and upset in the moment that you weren’t thinking about the context of his statement.

All you knew was that Bucky got upset with you for the very first time, and then he left. To you, that must certainly look like a breakup, and when Nat thinks about it from your perspective, she understands how you’d come to that conclusion.

She’d love to explain to you how you may have misunderstood, but as she listens to your hoarse crying over speakerphone, she knows you’re not in the frame of mind to process rational thought right now. Instead, she decides to focus on soothing you for the moment.

“I’m sorry, honey, I don’t know why he’d ever do anything like that to you. I’m gonna get to the bottom of it, alright? In the meantime, I just need you to do something for me,” she coos, her voice comforting and warm.

You don’t answer, just sniffling occasionally as you sit there in silence. Natasha, interpreting your lack of response as an affirmation, continues on.

“Where are you right now?”

There’s more silence for a few seconds, the sound of you pulling deep breaths into your lungs as you regain awareness of your surroundings. Then:

“Uh. The floor. In my apartment,” you mumble, confused, like you’ve just now realized that fact.

Natasha feels an additional lash of anger at Barnes flood her system when you tell her that, but she works to keep her voice calm even has her knuckles go white around her device.

“Okay, well, I need you to get up off the floor and go to your bedroom, okay? I want you to get dressed in your comfiest pajamas and crawl into bed for me, and wait there while I handle this. Can you do that? Just close your eyes and try to rest while I figure everything out?”

More sniffles, a hoarse cough, and then, after a beat of silence, your voice crackles over the line.

“Yeah….okay. I can do that, Nat,” you croak, the sound of shuffling floating over the line as you stagger to your feet after who knows how long on the floor.

She smiles, relieved to hear your voice coming through a bit more calmly, even as her mind races with the next items on her to-do list. “Okay sweetheart, you do that, then. I love you, I’ll call back soon, okay? Go get some rest.”

After hanging up with you, confident that at least you’re not curled up on your apartment floor anymore, she pockets her cell and immediately stalks down the hall towards the elevator, Target trip long forgotten.

----------------------------------------------------------

Bucky knows he fucked up. As someone who fucks up just about everything, he’s intimately familiar with the process, and he can say, with 100% certainty, that in this instance he absolutely fucked up. He never should have snapped at you - his sweetheart, his girl. You were just worried about him, and of course you were.

Bucky knows damn well he works too hard, especially lately, and he’s been on the verge of physical and mental collapse pretty much every damn day for the past month, running himself into the ground. He’d even been thinking to himself before your argument that he should slow down, take a break before he gets himself killed. So why did he get so defensive when you’d suggested it?

He doesn’t goddamn know. Because he’s messed up. Because it’s one thing when he decides to take some time off, but another when someone else has the idea, like they think he needs it.

He can’t help it; for decades of his life, the slightest sign of weakness meant pain, meant the frigid blast of a firehouse to wake him up or the wandering scalpel of a Hydra doctor looking to find a defect. Not that that makes his outburst okay, by any means, but it’s an explanation, and hey, he’s working on it, really he is.

Still, he knew the second he walked out of your apartment that he’d fucked up, and so he’s spent the past two hours at his own place a few floors up, licking his wounds and gathering the courage to go apologize.

Because…yes, okay, he’s embarrassed by the way he acted. He’s ashamed of his own behavior, and he’d needed a minute to feel sorry for himself before he inevitably goes back down to your apartment and grovels for your forgiveness.

He figures you’re pissed beyond belief, and if giving you some time to cool off also gives him a little while to stall the complete destruction of his ego, well, then, he’ll take it.

He finished up his mission report, he took a shower, and now he’s preparing his apology speech, debating the merit of walking down the street to a bodega for some flowers, when his doorbell rings. Shit, maybe he’s already out of time and you decided to come to him.

When he opens his door, looking thoroughly contrite, it’s not your expected figure that stands in his entryway, but Natasha’s. And even given all his super-soldier reflexes and military training, he still staggers back a step in shock when she slaps him right across the face.

“Whoa, what the fuck, Nat?” he barks, rubbing at the heat blooming under the skin of this cheek.

Standing there in front of him with her arms crossed, she looks anything but remorseful, her fists clenched as if she has to deny herself the urge to do it again.

“Why the fuck did you break up with her, Barnes? Are you insane?! The one good thing in your life, and you threw it all away, why, because you got a little pissed off? Out of all the stupid, careless decisions you’ve made in your fucked-up life, I really didn’t think you had it in you to top all that, but Jesus…”

As she continues to rant at him, her face pinched with rage, Bucky struggles to make sense of the words she’s already spoken. Broken up with you? Why in God’s name would he ever do that?

What an absolutely absurd thing to accuse him of, given that everybody in this building knows how insanely in love with you he is, especially your own best friend. Why is she here playing some kind of prank on him when he’s supposed to be rehearsing his apology?

“I did no such thing,” he answers bluntly, interrupting her impassioned speech, his expression confused and a little irritated at the accusation.

Nat barely even blinks at this denial. “Oh really? Then why did I just talk to her on the phone, bawling her eyes out on the floor of her apartment, telling me that you did?”

Of course, Nat’s pretty sure that Barnes hadn’t really meant to break up with you by leaving during your argument, but she’s pissed at him either way for not being cognizant enough of your feelings to foresee your interpretation of his behavior.

To Bucky, Natasha’s words might as well have been a bucket of ice water poured over his head, the way they immediately freeze his joints with dread. He feels his stomach churn as if he might be sick, the horrifying mental image of you curled up on your wooden floors driving a stake between his ribs. When he’d left, you’d been standing. Sure, you’d looked upset, but surely not that upset…right?

He tries to think back to your emotional state when he’d stormed out a couple of hours ago, but truthfully he hadn’t turned back to see your face as he’d walked out your door. Had you been crying? He didn’t think so, but now he isn’t so sure, especially given the look of anger on Nat’s face. Why would you tell her that he’d broken up with you? As a joke, some kind of payback for his outburst?

“I….” he pauses, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips. “You talked to her? What did she say?”

Natasha almost feels sympathy for Bucky in this moment, standing before her looking so confused and slightly horrified. But then she thinks about her best friend sobbing on the floor because he’s an idiot, and that emotion vanishes, replaced with her plentiful anger.

“Well, it was kind of hard to hear her, what with all the sobbing and such. But when I finally was able to get her to speak, she said that there was a fight, and that you broke up with her and then left her there. She said you hadn’t taken any of your stuff with you when you left, and she wasn’t sure when you’d be back for it, but that she didn’t know what she was going to do,” Nat recalls in a hard voice, her gaze sharp and accusatory. “After that she started crying again, so I didn’t ask her any more questions.”

Another bruising blow to the tatters of Bucky Barnes’s heart. What did you mean, he hadn’t taken his stuff? Why would he take his things when he’d left them there on purpose so he had them to use when he was at your place?

Why would he take his belongings out of your apartment just because you got into an argument? This doesn’t make any sense, and the longer Natasha talks, the worse his growing sense of unease becomes.

Why were you crying? Sure, he expected anger, he’d been a huge swinging dick and he deserves some harsh words. But why is Nat saying that you were curled up on your floor sobbing? Why wouldn’t you be on the couch, or in your bed, or even down in the gym punching out your frustrations?

And why were you on the phone with your best friend moments ago talking like you didn’t expect him to come back? Surely you know he’ll be back, he practically lives in your apartment - his wallet and keys are still sitting in the dish by your front door, his favorite jacket hung on the coat rack. He looks at your closest friend desperately, his face drawn in stark lines of horror and regret.

“Natasha, please, I don’t know why she said all that stuff to you, I didn’t break up with her, I would never break up with her. We had an argument. She was only worried about me, but I got defensive like an asshole and said some shit I didn’t mean, so…I just wanted to get out of there, get some space before I lashed out some more, that’s all. I just needed a minute to cool off, I was always fully planning to go back, to explain myself and apologize. I don’t know why she…” he trails off, looking lost.

Nat sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her best friend is in hysterics, and it’s all because men are the dumbest creatures on this planet.

“What do you think that looked like to her, Barnes? You guys get in your very first fight, and after saying some mean shit to her you stomp out of there and go ‘I can’t do this, I'm done’. What do you think those words might have sounded like to her ears? You’re her first serious boyfriend, jackass! She’s never been in this situation before! She doesn’t know that it’s relatively normal for couples to argue, even if you definitely shouldn’t have snapped at her. She just knows you’ve never fought before, and the first time you do, you walk out the door. She thinks you’re gone for good, James.”

You could hear a pin drop in Bucky’s apartment right now, the sounds of bustling Manhattan outside his windows muffled by the blood roaring in his ears. He wants to be upset with you, to question how you could ever doubt his love enough to think he’d really just walk out after one disagreement. But in truth, given his actions and your lack of relationship experience, he doesn’t see how you could’ve come to any other conclusion.

Bucky thought he’d been regretful before Nat got here, but after hearing his behavior described in this new light, he’s got a whole list of emotions to add to the pile. Self-loathing, remorse, fear. You’re in your apartment right now, believing yourself to be single. All that time you two spent together, every memory and intimate moment, you think it’s over, just like that, in the blink of an eye.

Obviously, he needs to explain himself immediately, to tell you that he hadn’t meant to end your relationship in the slightest and that this is all just a giant misunderstanding.

But what if you don’t care? What if, after the way he acted towards you today, you’d rather accept his words as you’d thought he meant them and stay broken up, even knowing that wasn’t his intent? He’s shaking, he realizes distantly, noticing the way Natasha looks at him with concern in her eyes now.

He hadn’t ever really let himself consider that you’d turn him down before, when he was rehearsing his apology speech. You’re in a committed relationship of six months, you’re in love. Surely, even if he was a bit of an asshole, one transgression can be forgiven as long as he apologizes sincerely.

But that was back when he thought his only sin was his harsh words, back when he thought you were angry with him for his outburst.

Now that he knows what you’ve really been feeling, that you’ve apparently spent the past two hours sobbing on your wooden apartment floors waiting for him to come back and take his belongings, he’s not so confident that he can grovel hard enough to make up for this.

He hadn’t meant to hurt you, god damn it, that’s the whole reason he left in the first place, to spare you from his undeserved anger. Now he might be about to lose you because of his own childish temper tantrum, and the terror of that thought feels icy in his veins as it travels straight to his heart, freezing it in place.

His body is moving towards his apartment door before he even commands his muscles to do so, single-minded on the only thing that matters anymore: fixing what he’s done. His hand is already turning the doorknob by the time a slightly startled Nat is able to catch up with him, her hand on his shoulder stalling him for only the tiniest moment before he’s barrelling ahead again.

“Don’t fuck this up. You love her, now go make it right,” she commands sternly, and Bucky just grunts his acknowledgment before bursting through his door out into the empty hallway, towards the elevator.

He doesn’t stop to voice his fears to Natasha, that it might be too late to make anything right, that he may have fucked it up beyond repair already. He just keeps moving, hoping beyond hope that he still has a chance.

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When he makes it to your apartment a few floors down from his own, it’s eerily silent as he pushes the door open. He’s never needed a key, FRIDAY has explicit orders to grant him entry, but for the first time ever it feels wrong entering your space unannounced, like maybe he should knock and wait for permission in light of what’s happened. He ignores the impulse.

You’re not crouched on the floor of your entryway like Nat said you’d been, so he supposes that’s a good sign, but it occurs to him then that he’s not even entirely sure you’re home. Bucky pauses to ask FRIDAY where you are, and is relieved to hear that you’re only in your bedroom.

He almost thinks he picks up a hint of annoyance in the AI’s voice when she responds to his inquiry, though, as if even the damn computer program is pissed at him for the way he treated you. It must be his imagination.

“Angel?” he calls out softly, making his way slowly through the apartment to your bedroom, noting the oppressive stillness of the place as he goes deeper. “Honeybun? Sweet pea?” he uses his softest, most gentle voice, disturbed to find your usually lively dwelling so silent.

The TV in the living room - usually playing some youtube video or episode of your favorite show - is powered off, and the lights are all off too, as if the sun had set and you simply hadn’t bothered to flick any of them on to combat the encroaching darkness. The place he’s wandering now is like a ghost of your apartment, no scented candles lit, no steaming mug of tea waiting for you at your usual spot at the coffee table.

It’s unnerving, to have a place usually so full of life be so startlingly empty all of a sudden. His slow steps and his soft voice calling out for you are the only sounds in the entire space, until he finally reaches your bedroom door and pauses to listen. For a moment there’s nothing, and he worries that perhaps you aren’t home after all, until he hears a soft sound coming muffled through the thick wood of your door.

He presses his ear against it to listen closer, brow scrunched as he waits to hear the sound again, and a moment later his heart shatters as it becomes clear that what he’s hearing is your soft sobbing, interspersed with the occasional sniffle.

Bucky pushes your door open ever-so-carefully, cursing under his breath at the slight squeak of the wood on its hinges. It’s hard to see anything in your room, even with his perfect super-soldier eyesight, as the lights are off in here, too, the curtains closed to limit even the soft moonlight coming through the windows.

His instinct is to flick on the light so he can see you better, but he doesn’t want to startle you, and besides, you obviously prefer the lights off or you would’ve turned them on yourself when it got dark. Instead he just steps further into the room, squinting his eyes as he can just barely make out the lump under the covers where you lay, curled in a ball in the center of your mattress, crying quietly.

He knows you must have heard his entrance, must realize he’s standing at the side of your bed right now, but you make no move to acknowledge him, continuing to sob softly as he watches on, heartbroken.

“Oh, darlin’...” he sighs, pulling the covers back a bit to expose your head, kneeling with one knee on the mattress so he can get a closer look at you.

You sniffle pitifully as you feel the cool air of the room on your face, extra cold against your cheeks where they’re wet with tears. Your vision is too blurry for you to actually see him, but you know who it is, know the scent of his cologne and the familiar touch of his fingers on your face as he brushes your hair back to see you better.

Your stupid, traitorous nervous system reacts immediately to his presence, your panicked breaths slowing and your tears subsiding, a warm wash of comfort moving through your chest along with an instinctive sense of safety.

Your body knows nothing of the events of the past few hours, that he isn’t yours anymore, that he isn’t here to comfort you. It just instinctively calms under his attention, unaware that it is fleeting now, sure to be gone in only moments.

As the man you love wipes the tears gently from your face, his touch so sweet and soft it inadvertently causes more of them to fall, you force your hoarse voice to speak, the sound a barely audible croak even in the silence of your room. “Are you here to get your things?”

Bucky’s own eyes sting at your words, at the miserable tone to your voice as you say them, and he shakes his head vehemently, though he’s not sure you’re even really seeing him right now.

“No, baby, of course not. Why would I take my stuff, huh? I left those things here so I could use them when I’m visiting my girl, you know that,” he counters in a painfully soft voice, like he thinks speaking above a murmur will shatter you. Maybe he’s right about that, you do feel awfully close to shattering.

You feel the beginnings of a headache throbbing behind your eyes, and you close them for a moment, struggling to craft a coherent thought through all the heartbreak clouding your brain. Why is he here speaking nonsense when you’re in the middle of trying to mourn him? Does he not see that it’s cruel for him to be here with his comforting touch and his sweet voice, knowing that those things are lost to you forever now?

“I’m not your girl anymore…” you mumble brokenly, the very act of having to speak the words into existence pulling another sob from your chest.

Despite yourself you nuzzle your cheek into his palm as he cradles your face, desperate for his affection. If you’re never going to feel his touch again, you’ll bask in every opportunity while you have it, savoring the familiar warmth even as you question why he’s offering it to you in the first place.

Your face is pinched in concentration, like you’re trying to commit the sensation to memory, and Bucky’s heart might as well be in shards by his feet at this point, the way you seek out his touch like you’re starved for it. Like it hasn’t only been hours since he last gave it to you, like you’ll never have the chance to feel it again.

“Yes you are, baby, you’re always gonna be my girl. You’re mine, honey, just like I’m yours. Forever, haven’t I told you that?” he speaks desperately, like he’s pleading with you to agree with him, and although you’d love to, you have very recent evidence to the contrary.

“B-but, you said…” you trail off in a whisper, unable to repeat the words. You don’t need to anyways, you both know what he’d said. That he can’t do this. Can’t be with you anymore.

Bucky’s quick to interrupt you, needing you to understand that that’s not what he’d said, or, at least, not what he’d meant. “Baby, I didn’t- I’m sorry I said it like that, and I understand why you took those words the way you did. But that’s not what I meant to say, sweetheart, I swear.”

He huffs and slides a frustrated hand through his hair, suddenly unable to bear having this conversation with you while you lie curled up alone in your bed, looking up at him blankly with your shining eyes.

Before you can speak another word he peels back the covers some more, making room for himself as he slides into the bed beside you, pulling you up and onto his chest so he can hold you in his arms. The tears on your cheeks immediately soak through the soft cotton of his T-shirt, but he doesn’t care, cradling you tightly against his chest and rubbing slow, comforting circles onto your back.

You want to say something, to express your confusion at his incongruent behavior, but you can’t, not with his arms around you and his scent in your nose. You open your mouth to speak but all that comes out are more shuddering sobs, your body limp in his hold, completely helpless against the comfort he offers.

Even if he shouldn’t be, he’s here. He’s here, and he’s holding you like you’re something precious again, and even if you know that there must be some mistake you can’t stop yourself from completely melting into his embrace, any semblance of your remaining composure crumbling completely.

Bucky just coos softly, murmuring gentle assurances in your ear and holding you, solid and steady as you weather the storm of your heartbreak. Despite having spent the better part of the past two hours bawling your eyes out, the crying starts anew with him here, his comforting presence both a relief and a reminder of what you’ve lost, what you’ll be missing when he walks out that door again.

You two lie like that for a while, though whether it’s for a few minutes or several hours you can’t say, time stretching into infinity as you cry into his chest. As the tears finally subside once again, your body exhausted and your throat sore, your mind belatedly registers his words from before. He’d been saying something, hadn’t he?

“What…” your voice comes out scratchy, so you clear your throat to be heard better - though Bucky couldn’t have missed a word out of your mouth if he tried, focused on you as he is. “What do you mean, that’s not what you meant? You broke up with me.”

Bucky shakes his head immediately, bringing his mismatched palms up to cradle your face, sweeping your hair back behind your ears so he can see his beautiful girl. God, it’s torture watching you cry, but he seems to have broken through to you somehow, and he’s not going to squander this opportunity to explain himself.

He can’t suppress the urge to lean down and drop a tender kiss to your forehead, though, your tear-stained face so pitiful he could cry right along with you if he didn’t have something more important to be doing at the moment.

“I mean, that’s not what I meant, sweetheart. I never intended to break up with you. How could I? Leave my girl, my princess? Don’t you know you mean more to me than every other person on this planet put together?” He speaks calmly but firmly, his gaze steady on yours as he practically begs you to believe him. You have to believe him.

You frown, confusion pulling your brows together as you take in his desperate expression. His words make your heart flutter with hope, but you don’t understand, can’t make sense of the reality he’s trying to assert when you know you heard otherwise only a couple of hours ago. It’s all a bit much for your heartbroken brain to handle, and you just blink at him blankly, completely lost.

“I don’t understand, Buck. Y-you were so upset, and then you left, and you said ‘I can’t do this, I'm done.’ I thought you meant we were done, that you can’t do us anymore.” you recall in a miserable voice, searching his eyes for answers as you desperately try to understand.

He nods empathetically, his thumbs brushing at the tears on your cheeks even as more continue to fall to take their place. “I know that’s what I said, sweet girl, and I know how it sounded to you, but that’s not at all how I meant it, I swear. I just…” Bucky sighs, his features plastered with remorse, his eyes falling from yours in shame.

“I was being an asshole. I knew, even as I was doing it, that I was being an asshole, that I couldn’t stop being an asshole, so I just…I wanted to get away from you before I lashed out any more, that’s all. I knew if I kept trying to discuss things with you right then I was only going to say more shit I didn’t mean, so I tried to put some space between us, just until I could cool off and be rational again.”

Bucky pauses, sighing deeply and stroking your cheeks. His eyes are swimming with guilt so deep it hurts your chest just to look at it. He looks almost as torn up about this whole ordeal as you do, which, although his pain isn’t something you revel in, does make your heart beat a little faster with hope. Would a man who doesn’t want to be with you anymore still look at you with that much guilt over having caused you pain?

When he speaks again his voice is low and strained with emotion, apologetic. “Darlin’, I…I am so sorry for the things I said to you today. I didn’t mean a single damn one of them. I love that you look after me, I love that I have someone waiting for me when I come home, making sure I’m not pushing myself too hard. I need you there to do that for me, because we both know I’m too proud and stubborn to take a break on my own. I got defensive, and I lashed out because I felt threatened, and that is not okay or fair to you. If you can’t forgive me for those things I said, I understand.”

He swallows thickly, his eyes closing as hot tears sting the backs of them, fighting to escape. “But you need to know that when I told you I couldn’t ‘do this,’ I sure as hell didn’t mean you, or us. All I meant was that I couldn’t keep having that conversation with you, that I needed to get away before I hurt you worse. That’s all it was. When I left your apartment today, it was to get some space because I knew I was throwing a temper tantrum. In no way, shape, or form was I breaking up with you, or trying to end what we have. I couldn’t do that, it’s not in my DNA to do that. I’m simply not capable of it, and you have to know that. Even if you decide you’re better off without me, I need you to know that. Please.”

You stare down at him in the wake of his speech, watching as he blinks rapidly to keep tears at bay, and you’re so god damn confused in this moment that you wish he would give you a timeout, let you process everything he just said before you have to respond to it.

Could it possibly be true? That he’d never meant to break up with you, that he still loves and wants you? Could this all just be some massive misunderstanding on your part?

The possibility has hope fluttering warm in your chest, but you suppress it. Better to make absolutely sure first, before you let your heart get obliterated for the second time today. Letting yourself have this hope only to quash it moments later might actually break you for good.

“You weren’t…I mean, you didn’t want to break up with me?” you whisper hesitantly, afraid to let yourself believe it even though you’re desperate to.

Bucky’s heart cracks in his chest as you ask that so timidly, like just voicing the question is opening you up to a whole new potential world of hurt. He shakes his head firmly, his metal hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull, his fingertips massaging your scalp gently.

“No, babygirl, never. Not in a million years. Even though we were arguing, it was the last thing on my mind, trust me. I’ve never wanted to break up with you, not for a second. I love you,” he reassures you smoothly, his voice low and calm, exuding certainty.

You have to sniffle hard to hold back a fresh round of tears at those three simple words, ones you never thought you’d get to hear from him again. Jesus Christ, if you never cry again it’ll be too soon. Your gaze is particularly frail and fragile as it meets Bucky’s, some of that hope you’d been suppressing earlier making itself known in your features, tentative but present.

“So…you’re still my boyfriend?” you ask in a tiny murmur, like maybe this is the part where he pulls the rug out from under you and announces he was kidding about the whole misunderstanding thing.

Bucky’s features tighten a little at your question, and dread pools in your stomach rapidly, fearing the worst. But his words aren’t quite the heartbreaking blow you’re expecting, more like a puzzling wrinkle.

“If you want me to be, yeah, baby, I am.”

Your brow furrows, confused. What the hell does that mean? Suddenly, you recall a few other parts of his speech just now, parts that had been immediately overshadowed when he’d said that he still wanted to be with you. Now that you think about it, he’d also said a bunch of stuff along the lines of ‘If you can forgive me,’ and ‘If you decide you’re better off without me,’ hadn’t he?

What the hell was that all about? Why’s he talking about whether you want to be with him? Like you haven’t been literally bawling your eyes out for the past two hours at the prospect of having to live without him? How does that make any sense?

“Of course I want you to be. You think I was curled up on the floor sobbing because I was happy to think that our relationship was over?” you ask incredulously, frowning at him.

He chuckles a little at that, the sound vibrating through you as you lay on his chest, but it’s strained, his expression vulnerable. Although you attribute this misunderstanding mostly to your own mind jumping to the worst possible conclusion, Bucky is riddled with guilt for both his abrupt exit from your apartment and the things he’d said leading up to it.

In his eyes you went through a lot of pain today, and every inch of it is his fault. If he’d stopped to explain his meaning, or, hell, if he hadn’t gotten so damn defensive in the first place, none of this would’ve happened. His girl wouldn’t have spent hours of her life sobbing on her hardwood floors if he’d just stopped to breathe like his therapist taught him to. His pale irises swim with shame as he gazes up at you.

“No, no, I just…I said some horrible things to you today, darlin’. And just because you were upset to think that I’d broken up with you doesn’t necessarily mean that all is forgiven, I know that. I understand if you’d rather keep us apart after the way I acted,” he murmurs defeatedly, like he’s already prepared himself for a thorough scolding.

Which is absolutely goddamn ridiculous, in your eyes. You snort, brows raised in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? All is forgiven, Buck, all is so past forgiven. I don’t care about the shit you said. You’re here, you’re still mine, that’s all that matters now. Forget the fight, forget all of it. I’ve got you, that’s all I care about.”

You say it so simply, like it could be so easy. Like his indiscretions are just wiped clean in the face of your pure relief. But he knows that they aren’t, they can’t be. It’s not that easy, as much as he’d like it to be. He fucked up, and he deserves what’s coming to him.

He tries to reason with you, his expression pained. “Baby, you can’t just-”

“I absolutely can, actually,” you interrupt, looking unamused, stern. “I’m the one you said those things to, so I think I have the right to determine how I feel about them, don’t you?” You keep your eyebrows raised, challenging.

You watch as he mulls those words over a bit, licking his lips anxiously. It takes him a moment to decide how to respond, and when he does his words are slow, strained. Like maybe he doesn’t want to say them, but he feels like he has to.

“Yes, you do. It’s ultimately your decision, of course it is. I just…before you decide to blindly forgive me for this, I want you to really consider how you feel, okay? I know your instinct is to forget all about it because you’re just relieved to have me at all right now, but…I messed up. I hurt you, I said hurtful things even if I didn’t mean them. You didn’t deserve that, least of all from me, the man who’s supposed to love and protect you. You’re allowed to be upset about it, and if my actions made you realize that you don’t want to be with me anymore, then…you’re allowed to feel that way, too.”

His voice cracks on that last word, and your heart aches painfully in your chest at the sound. In this moment, you’re realizing with horror that Bucky truly believes he deserves to be broken up with tonight. With the unshed tears clinging to his lashline and the devastated look on his face, it’s clear that he doesn’t want to be dumped, that in fact that’s the last thing he wants.

But it’s obviously what he thinks should happen, the punishment he thinks he’s earned for the inadvertent heartbreak he put you through tonight, and that’s just…unacceptable, to be honest.

The man would forgive you if you literally drove a stake through his chest, for Christ’s sake, yet he’s expecting you to kick him to the curb? What, because he got a little snippy with you? Because you jumped to the wrong conclusion and convinced yourself he left you? You would almost be insulted that he could think such a thing of you if you didn't know where the fear comes from.

You've seen them firsthand: the deep layers of self-loathing that have bogged him down since long before your relationship started, the inherent belief he carries that he is irreparably flawed and unworthy of love. He doesn't feel like he deserves you on his best day, so when he screws up, no matter the size of the infraction, he expects to be cast aside.

You reach out with one hand to cradle his cheek, his stubble gently scraping against your thumb as you caress his skin. Your expression is caring but firm, your eyes holding his as you speak in an even voice.

“I need you to understand that I don't expect you to be perfect, James. I don’t expect that you will always say the right thing, or have a perfectly even temperament in every situation because hell, none of us do. You’re allowed to fuck up sometimes, sweetheart, and you still deserve to be loved even when you do.”

His brow furrows as you speak, his instinct to reflexively deny the forgiveness you’re offering. “But I hurt you,” he interjects, the look on his face so miserable it tugs at your chest.

You nod your agreement, though your expression is still full of compassion and love. “Yes, you did. I won’t even begin to address the break-up fiasco because that was a complete misunderstanding on my part, but yes, the things you said before you left really stung me. Do you know why I’m going to forgive you anyways, though? Why, even if this happens again, I’ll probably forgive you a hundred times over?”

You pause for effect, giving him the opportunity to respond. Honestly, as upset as you’ve been these past few hours, it’s all begun to fade in the face of this man you love trying to convince you he’s not worth it. When he just looks at you helplessly, his eyes tracking your speech with rapt attention, you smile and continue.

“It’s because I know you’d never hurt me on purpose, Bucky. Let me ask you something: when you snapped at me today, did you do it because you were trying to find the absolute meanest thing you could say at that moment? Did you say it because you wanted me to feel bad?”

Looking a bit startled at the suggestion, Bucky shakes his head mutely. He hadn’t really even been conscious of the words at all until after they’d already blurted from his mouth, and even then it didn’t fully sink in until after he’d calmed down. You smile, satisfied by his immediate denial.

“No, of course you didn’t. You didn’t say that stuff to be mean, to hurt just for hurting’s sake. You were feeling ambushed and defensive, and you lashed out. Is it ideally how you’ll always react when I try to express my concern for your wellbeing? No, of course not. But is it a realistic thing for a person to do who’s not used to being cared for? Absolutely, it is. And it’s just something we’re gonna have to work on, baby. I’ve never done this whole relationship thing before, and you’re trying to do it for the first time in 80 years with a hell of a lot of additional trauma thrown into the mix.

“We’re learning, and it’s not always gonna be perfect or easy. Maybe before this becomes an issue again, we’ll think up some ways for you to politely tell me ‘I’m feeling overwhelmed by this conversation, please back off and we can come back to it later.’ Or maybe we’ll discuss how I can voice my concerns to you in the future without triggering your defensive response, how I can come off as less accusatory and make the discussion feel more safe for you.

“We’ve only been doing this for six months, and as real as it is, as much as I love you more than anything, we’re gonna face a hell of a lot more than this one hurdle if we want to keep doing this thing in the long term. So, yeah, tonight has sucked, pretty much every minute of it was a disaster, but you know what? It’s over now. You apologized, we’re gonna try and do better next time, and…that’s the end of it. Clean slate. All I want to do with the rest of my night is finally stop fucking crying, and eat a burger the size of my head. Preferably, with my boyfriend next to me the whole time, trying to steal my fries when I’m not looking. Do you think you could help me make that happen, Buck? Please?”

He looks stunned in the wake of your speech, silent for several moments as his brain struggles to grapple with the reality of your easy forgiveness. He blinks at you hard, like he truly can’t believe that you’re not running in the opposite direction right now, burning every trace of your life together and cursing his name the whole way.

But the truth is, you’d already made up your mind to forgive him the second you realized he hadn’t meant to break up with you in the first place, and Bucky must see that, too, because the fight in his eyes is slowly dimming into something more fragile, vulnerable.

His gaze fixes on yours in the dark, searching for some hidden shard of resentment or anger that you may be holding back for his sake, but he doesn’t find it, there is no such thing for him to find. You just smile weakly up at him, exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the day but no less sincere, and when he blows out a slow breath through his nose, you know you’ve got him.

He’s definitely not done badgering himself about the mistakes he made today, not by a long shot, but he must see your weariness on your face, your desperate need to move on from this at least for the moment, so he nods slowly, his flesh hand rising to gently tuck some of your hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, sweetheart, we can make that happen. Whatever you want.”

Your smile brightens, the relief so stark in your features that it brings a lump to his throat, and when you press your lips against his he makes a silent promise to never put you in a position like this again, to never let his bullshit drag you down or put your relationship at risk like he did today.

He’ll go to therapy twice a damn week if he has to, you deserve better than his temper tantrums, than cruel words spoken out of a defensiveness he doesn’t need anymore. Not with you.

Half an hour later finds you perched in his lap, draped in one of his hoodies and talking and laughing at your favorite diner like there never was an argument, like not a single tear was shed today. He hates that the joy on your face is most likely motivated by your sheer relief that he’s still yours, but he can’t complain about the sparkle in your eyes, nor the way you lean back against his chest as you sip your shake.

Obliging your request, he steals some fries off your plate while you gesticulate wildly through a story, a warm flutter going off in his chest when you pretend to squawk in protest. He soaks in every second, every twitch of your lips and brush of your hand against his, reminding himself what he could have lost, what he perhaps deserved to lose after his actions today.

He’ll make this up to you, he knows he will - he’s sure Natasha will have plenty of suggestions for how he can start. He thinks back to that little velvet box he’s got buried deep in the back of his sock drawer, a sharp pull tugging at his heart as he realizes he almost lost his chance to give it to you at all. He resolves right here and now, basking in the warm light of your infinite patience for him, that he won’t take that box out until he’s earned it.

He hates to wait even a second longer, itches to lock you down with every passing moment, but he won’t ask you to make that kind of commitment to him until he’s sure he’s the man that you need him to be. As he presses a firm kiss to your temple, swiping another morsel from the edge of your plate with a smile, he swears up to his Ma that he will work hard to deserve you, even if you seem to think he already does.

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic

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bishovapls · 30 days ago

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For Our little one, the new chapter makes me wonder what if y/n broke one of Wanda’s rules? just bc she wants Wanda to be worried and “be soft” like Natasha put it and have that kind of attention if that makes sense

Hey! thanks so much for this question, it's an interesting one for sure!! It’s tricky because Natasha’s not wrong, Wanda is soft. Like, overwhelmingly so, most of the time. I sort of imagine her as almost always soft and gentle (unless she's drilling into reader with her strap because Carol dared to ask her out). Basically, what I mean is, it would be rare that reader would ever need to force that kind of attention from Wanda. But if, for whatever reason, she did?

The first time reader acts out like this, Wanda would absolutely melt, because really, the poor thing just wants her Mommy, right? And Wanda gets that. She'd go all in on the cuddles and comfort. But if it started becoming a pattern, if instead of communicating, reader kept breaking rules just to get attention, I don’t think Wanda would stay soft. That’s when she'd shift into something firmer, leaning into real punishments, because communication means everything to her. And she’d need to know it means something to reader too.

I hope this makes sense?? 😅

---

Anyway, here’s a little example of how I see it going. Don’t judge it too harshly, I haven’t even proofread it, and I am also running on 2 hours sleep soooo...

Light angst and fluff below the cut 🩵

You’d eaten. Not much, not well, but enough to get through the day. Still, each time it came time to update your food diary, your fingers hovered above your phone and didn’t move. It would’ve taken seconds, but you left it blank every time. Not because you wanted to lie, exactly. More because you wanted her to notice.

Wanda had been more distant lately. Not in a cruel or neglectful way, just… exhausted. The café was heading into the holiday rush, and she’d been pulled in every direction: staff rotas, supplier emails, menus, endless checklists.

You still saw her, but the time together had started to feel hollow, like she was there, but not really present. More often than not, you found yourself curled up with Natasha on the sofa while Wanda sat nearby, eyes fixed on her laptop, buried in a never-ending stream of emails. You knew it wasn’t her fault; she was doing her best. But that didn’t stop the ache it left behind.

And to make it worse, the last few days had been crushing you. A string of tense classes, group projects falling apart, a tutor pulling you aside to talk about your “engagement.”

You’d needed Wanda's warmth, her voice, her hands, the quiet, grounding comfort of her presence. Needed to hear her call you her good girl, needed the weight of her gaze steadying you, like gravity pulling you back into place.

Natasha was wonderful; you loved the time you spent with her, and even her newfound softness helped soothe the worst of it. But she wasn’t Mommy, and right now, Mommy was who you needed.

So you’d left the diary blank, intentionally breaking her biggest rule. If there was one way to get Wanda's attention, it was by not taking care of yourself.

Her texts had trickled in throughout the day, each one short, efficient, textbook Wanda. You ignored the first two easily; they were the usual reminders, almost like she had them scheduled.

Wanda: Don’t forget to log your breakfast, Little one ❤️ Wanda: Hey, baby, just checking in. Lunch?

Then, finally, the one you’d been waiting for. The one that finally felt like she actually cared.

Wanda: I’m starting to worry. Please talk to me?

And even then, despite the ache in your chest and the way your fingers hovered over your phone, you stayed silent. Because if you answered now, if you let her know you were fine, the worry would vanish. And with it, the need to keep reaching for you.

By the time your evening check-in call came through, your stomach was tight with nerves and something like guilt… but also, anticipation.

You stepped out into the cold evening air, letting the door to your dorm click shut behind you. The sharpness of the wind bit at your cheeks as you pulled your hoodie tighter around yourself, the screen of your phone lighting up once more.

You hesitated before accepting the call. The video connected, and there she was, hair a little messy from a long shift at the café, dark circles under her eyes betraying her exhaustion.

She was sitting in bed, a throw blanket pulled over her lap. But there was no softness in her face just yet. Not when she opened with a clipped, “You’ve ignored every message I’ve sent today.”

You winced. Her tone wasn’t angry, exactly, but there was clear tension threading through it.

You shrugged, looking away from the screen, jaw set. “Didn’t want to talk,” you muttered, your voice low and sullen.

Wanda blinked slowly, lips pressing into a flat line. “Didn’t want to talk,” she repeated, her accent wrapping around the words, making them sound colder than you’d meant. “You didn’t want to talk… so why didn't you fill in your food diary? I asked multiple times. Did you not eat?”

You didn’t meet her eyes, fingers fiddling with the string of your hoodie. “Yeah. I ate. Just didn’t feel like writing it down.”

“You know that’s not how this works,” she snapped, not harshly, but with tight restraint, like she was holding back her worry behind a veil of frustration. “It’s not just the diary, it’s about the check-in. The communication.”

You flinched slightly, throat tightening. Her frustration was justified; you knew that. But that wasn’t what stung. It was the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, the way she seemed so far away even though she was right there on your screen.

“What’s going on, Malyshka?” she said next, her voice dipping quieter but still firm.

That was the problem. You didn’t even know how to explain it. All you could do was stare at your feet, feeling suddenly very small. “I had a shit few days,” you mumbled finally, barely audible over the wind.

Wanda tilted her head, that quiet, familiar gesture that said she was listening, but also waiting. It was her unspoken nudge, the gentle pressure that told you she expected more than what you had given her.

You exhaled shakily, teeth pressing into your bottom lip. Then, almost childishly, “I've missed you, and when I break rules...when you worry, you pay attention. You text. You ask questions. You… care.” Your voice cracked on that last word, and you hated how small it made you sound.

Wanda was silent for a long beat. You watched her shoulders rise and fall with a slow breath, eyes fluttering closed for a moment like she was trying to absorb it all.

Then her gaze returned to you, softer now, full of something aching and fierce. “Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, and her tone cracked something open in you. “You thought you had to make me worry just to get me to see you?”

You couldn’t speak. Your lips parted, but nothing came out, your throat too tight, thick with the weight of unshed tears that burned behind your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words barely audible, as if she were afraid to push too hard. “I should’ve seen it sooner. I didn't mean to let you down, Malyshka.”

You shook your head, slow and heavy, gaze moving from the phone as if it physically hurt to look at her. Her words made guilt coil in your stomach, before twisting into something that made your voice waver when you finally spoke. “You’re tired,” you murmured, the words fragile and trembling. “You’ve been working so hard…”

Wanda's face softened, her brows drawing together with a flicker of hurt. “That doesn’t mean I stop taking care of you,” she said, gentler now, her tone dipping into something tender and raw.

“I’m sorry if I’ve seemed far away… You know I always care, right?” She paused, just long enough to let the question settle between you. “You do know that… don’t you?” The way she asked it, like she truly feared you didn’t, made your chest twist even tighter.

You didn’t trust your voice, so you just nodded, small and trembling, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fought to hold everything in.

Wanda hesitated before her voice reached you again, softer than it had been all night. “Can I see your face properly, baby? Please?”

Reluctantly, you tilted the phone upward. The cold wind kissed your cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the way her expression melted the moment she saw you, red-rimmed eyes, tear-stained skin, your hoodie bunched around your chin like a shield. Her face softened instantly, all tension bleeding away.

“There you are,” she murmured, almost like a breath of relief. “Come home, okay? I’ll send an Uber. I know it’s not your day, but I don’t care. I want you close.

“Okay,” you whispered, dragging your sleeve across your face, cheeks damp, voice thin but a little steadier.

“Mommy is going to make you tea,” she continued, gentler still, “and run you a bath. I’ll hold you for as long as you need, until all of this…” she gestured vaguely, meaning the ache, the weight, the tears, “until it melts away.”

You tried to smile, and it was small, but real. “…Promise?”

Her answering smile was quiet but sure, anchored in something unshakable. “Only if you promise to talk to me next time. Instead of breaking rules to get my attention. No more disappearing, Little One.”

You nodded quickly. “I promise, Mommy.”

She arched a brow, lips twitching into something teasing. “Good. Because next time, you won’t get away with just cuddles and soft words. This is your last warning.”

You both knew she meant it, even if her tone was playful, there was steel beneath the sugar. But somehow, that only made the warmth in your chest bloom wider. The ache had loosened. The quiet panic that told you you had to act out to be seen had faded beneath her unwavering gaze.

She saw you. You weren’t alone. And soon, you’d be wrapped in her arms, tucked safe against her chest, like none of this ever happened… like you’d never had to ask for her softness at all.

#our little one #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #mommy wanda #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat fluff #wandanat angst #fic prompt

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peachii-nitenite · 3 months ago

Text

Don’t Look at Me Like That (Viktor x Reader) sfw- suggestive

Summary: Viktor is scolding you for doing something reckless. Unfortunately for him he feels awful doing it. Fortunately for you, you think it’s a little hot.

Sidenote: extremely self indulgent. Slightly selfship coded. Might be slightly ooc. this has been sitting in my drafts since January and I'm sick of looking at it lol.

Content: pining, protective Viktor, mutual pining, fluff , suggestive thoughts, friends to lovers, technically dom!Viktor even though there’s no smut (yet)

Ao3 link

He had always known he should be stricter with you. He had a habit of indulging your whims too often, letting risky behaviors slide. But now he actually had to to it.

And he was failing miserably

He wanted to be upset. He was attempting to be upset. But now, as he glared down at you, he found he could not truly muster any sort of harsh feeling toward you. Not when you were looking up at him like that with wide, glittering eyes.

“…are you mad at me?”

“……”

It wasn’t fair. Not at all.

He was trying to be stern, to reprimand you for your reckless actions. You had tried to surprise him and Jayce by acquiring some rare metals to see how compatible they were with the new gemstones.

This lead you to the undercity, poking around where you likely shouldn’t have been. In your defense, you were also a Zaunite; but you hadn’t been back frequently for a long stretch of time, and it was evident in the way you carried yourself. All alone, too much of a bounce to your step, and no sharp edge to your voice.

A prime target

So when he came across you while out on his own errand, at a shady stall run by a large man with a crooked, rotten smile, he was startled.

He felt like a hypocrite for worrying, but he couldn’t help it. He makes trips to the undercity for supplies as well, but when it came to you it was…different. He almost felt childish for being too protective when it came to you.

His stomach lurched when he saw the way the shopkeeper leered at you while you were busy inspecting the metal for flaws. He was never one to judge based on appearances, however, he was nearly certain that you were dealing with a simple, honest merchant. He also did not like the way he began to notice bulky figures in the shadows, beginning to hover and slowly get closer and watch you innocently haggle.

A lamb in a lions den

How could you be so reckless, so carefree?

In that moment he was livid.

But that was short lived, and quickly replaced with a sense of urgency. He took the initiative to interrupt your dealings, coming up beside you to pluck the metal from your hands. There was a moment of shock and annoyance, as you prepared to argue with whoever would be so rude. But your expression immediately softened and warmed when she realized it was him.

“Oh! Viktor! Didn't expect to see you!”

The way you looked up at him, your smile surprised but no less warm than any other time that you looked at him. It was tender, like you were always pleased to see him. It was going to be the death of him, he swore it.

Oh, that face. The one that made him so incredibly weak. And those eyes. At times he felt like you could see him down to his core, through every wall he had put up.

It made something inside of him ache.

He had to quickly reign in the skipping of his heart, to complete his intervention and successfully get both of you back home. He said your name with a forced, stern edge as you locked eyes. He gave you a look of “you have some explaining to do later” and had to fight the urge to wince at the way you deflated, shrinking into yourself.

“A good coincidence. Come, we are going home, I need your assistance with something.” He kept his words short, to reduce the sting of saying it too harshly. He handed the metal back to the merchant, who cursed under his breath and grumbled as he put it away. His free hand found the small of your back, leading you away from the stall as quickly as his cane would allow.

The eyes peering from alleyways began to back off, but only shortly after he moved his hand from your back to your waist. He did not miss the quiet gasp you let out as he did, and he mumbled a low “sorry”.

Normally, he would had taken you by the arm, or by the hand, but in this instance he felt the need to assert himself; to say to everyone who could see: she isnt alone, she is taken-

That she was his.

His grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly.

He had to swallow down such possessive thoughts. Lock them away, never to be indulged or acknowledged. It was such an ugly, poisonous feeling to him- one that never failed to fill him with shame. He took a heavy sigh as the both of you walked in silence. He mentally recited again and again:

This isn’t about you, this is about her

You are doing this to keep her out of harm's way

He could feel your eyes wandering back up to look at him, no doubt with furrowed brows and concern painting your face. He couldn’t bear to look at you yet, not when you weakened his resolve the way you did.

So the walk and trolley ride back to the lab remained silent. He noticed you open your mouth a few times to attempt to say something, but each time the words died in your throat. It was only on the trolley that he let go of you, immediately missing the feeling of your warmth under his palm.

And now, presently in the process of attempting to scold you, he wanted nothing more than to chase that warmth once more. But he could not get distracted, not when it’s already so difficult.

“What were you thinking, going to a place like that alone? At best you would have been scammed, at worst-“

“But I-“ you weakly interjected

“Do not interrupt me.” He quickly cut you off, causing you to close your mouth into a pout. “It was reckless, no matter how much you think you had the situation under control”

It was easy to be cold and hard with everyone else, but with you? It was asking the impossible.

Seeing the way you bit your lips and avoided his gaze made him feel wretched.

“I thought my lead was solid! I’m sorry, okay?” You pleaded gently, reaching for his free hand to hold it soothingly. “I didn’t mean to worry you, I just wanted to help you…”

You did not play fair. You may not have realized it, but you absolutely were not playing fair in Viktor’s mind. And once again, you were gazing up at him with those big, beautiful eyes. He had to huff and close his eyes to maintain his quickly crumbling mask of anger.

Your hands were so much softer than his, so much warmer. His resolve was crumbling. When he pulled his hand away, you reached out for him again as if by instinct. The pleading look on your face was too much for him.

Before either of you knew it, he had seized your wrist, backing you up against his work table. A few pens clattered to the floor as the backs of your legs hit the table, your free hand quickly finding a place on the cluttered surface to stabilize yourself. His face was so close to yours that it nearly made his head spin, seeing the way your eyes widened with shock and how your breath quickened as he cornered you.

Many of his more sordid daydreams had begun like this; with you pressed against his desk and with him pressed against you. It was only the tangible feeling of your hand in his that cemented that he was not, in fact, dreaming. The line between friendly concern and his true feelings was getting blurrier by the second, as something stirred within him once more seeing you like this. How far could he go before you pushed him away?

“I will not be so lenient with you after this. What you did was reckless and foolish-

He had to ignore how your breath hitched as he brought his face closer

“-Not to mention the fact that you should have cleared this idea with me or Jayce before you decided to-

He had to ignore how your lips were slightly parted and your cheeks were starting to flush

“-And on TOP of that, you-

And your eyes. Heavily lidded, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight, glittering like jewels. As the sun painted you golden beneath him, he began to falter. He was lost in your eyes, no less adoring than they had previously been, but now clear and intense in the light. Your pupils were wide; much wider than usual.

“I…uh, that is to say….” He trailed quietly

An indication of affection.

Or arousal.

“W-well, uh…” he cursed his tongue for failing him.

He felt his face light aflame, pink spreading across his face to the very tips of his ears at the thought-or rather, the very real possibility that you saw him in that light.

He could not ignore it

Not when you were looking at him like that.

He pulled himself away before anything could escalate further, clearing his throat as he put a respectable distance between you.

“W-well you get it. No need to..eh, repeat myself…” he turned away.

What was he about to do? Was he truly so depraved? He mentally kicked himself for letting himself spiral. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were uncomfortable, and the mere thought of no longer bringing a smile to your face nearly broke his heart.

“I… I am sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted so severely…” he hung his head as he went to sit in his chair near the desk, still cautiously maintaining the distance.

“N-no it’s alright! Really! I uh…I needed it I think…” you timidly reassured him.

He could not help but observe the way you kept pressing your thighs together.

“…oh?”

“Y-yeah… you were right… I should be more mindful…and sometimes you should probably…uh…”

“I should probably what?”

You flushed, shyly looking over at him.

“You should be more stern with me…sometimes…” your voice trailed off as you bit your lip once more.

There was an expression he hadn’t seen before on that sweet face.

Longing. Yearning.

And your eyes? Desire.

….

Oh.

Oh…you sweet thing.

Viktor was not the kind of man to jump to conclusions merely when the outcome seemed desirable to him. But he was a man who could see and comprehend what was right in front of him.

You are not mad at him. Not at all.

You liked how he got authoritative with you.

He was reeling with this new information. The very task that tormented him was something that you were into.

Very into, from what he could deduce.

He could take a calculated risk. He could ask you directly, or…

He could get you to say it yourself.

He allowed himself to smile, finally, as he beckoned you forward. You came over immediately. Cute.

You shuffled over, standing before him with your hands clasped behind your back, awaiting his next request. He mustered up his stern voice once more, noting the way that it made you squirm.

“Elaborate. Now.”

You blinked slowly, carefully choosing your next words

“Well…you’re always so patient and kind to me, and I appreciate it a lot… but…”

“But?”

“But sometimes I feel like you’re holding back… so just then- when you got more assertive with me….i didn’t mind it.”

He simply allowed you to continue spilling your truth to him, noting your fidgeting. He didn’t want to scare you off with too many questions after all, not when he was so close to hearing what he wanted.

“It’s… a new side of you I haven’t seen before. It’s so…intense.” He could tell by the way you said it that you had a different word in mind, but deliberately chose a more benign one to spare further embarrassment.

He would be lying if he said it didn’t stroke his ego a bit.

“So…um…yeah I…would like it if you showed that side a bit more often…” you awkwardly concluded, hands still clasped tightly behind your back

You would like it.

You liked it.

The prospect rattled Viktor’s skull.

With that, he decided to take the risk.

“Tell me something.”

“Yeah?”

“If it were anyone else, would you still like it? The scolding.”

The silence that followed was deafening, as he watched you attempt to say something.

Until finally….

“No…no, I’m not sure if I would” you quietly admitted.

“Not even Jayce?” He was just teasing now, but his tone was as serious as a heart attack.

“No…only you”

Only you

Your voice echoed inside of him as his heart leapt.

He wasn’t the only one with these feelings; and that realization gave him a relief previously unknown to him.

He leaned forward and held his hand out for you to take, letting his stern mask fall a bit when he saw how you hesitated. You really were too cute.

“Come here” he murmured gently, beckoning you forward. You let your hand rest in his palm, and let him gently tug you forward until you were nearly straddling him. A shadow of a smirk graced his lips when he felt your pulse, your rapidly beating heart betraying you.

He slowly lifted the back of your hand to his face, planting a soft kiss and holding it there for a moment. When he looked up at you, what he saw was nothing short of perfection.

Your lips slightly parted as a sweet gasp left you, the eyes he was so weak to glued to his mouth against your skin;

It was too cute.

“I am not mad at you, despite how much I want to be.” He murmured against your hand before pulling away.

“Is it strange? I find I cannot remain upset with you for longer than a few minutes at a time.” he frowned, sighing and shaking his head “And now… you tell me you like it. How cruel.”

“I..” you weren't given a chance to speak before a high pitched whine escaped you as his lips brushed your hand once more. You could've sworn you saw him smirking.

“I was worried about you-” a feather light kiss on your knuckles “because I cherish you-” Another on your wrist “And the idea of anything happening to you frightens me-” another just below the cuff of your sleeve. “- so no. I am not mad at you.”

You sighed in relief, and felt ever so warm under his touch. His eyes darkened as he pulled away slightly, the serious edge returning to his voice.

“But you did scare me half to death. Never do something like this again without telling one of us, understood?”

You nodded, dazed and flushed; and satisfied with this response, he guided you to sit in his lap with a firm hand. The most miniscule of reactions were clear as day to him now, and he smirked as he noted the way you shivered in anticipation.

“Now, would you like to see how intense I can truly be?”

#pining #protective Viktor #mutual pining #fluff #suggestive thoughts #friends to lovers #technically dom!Viktor even though there’s no smut (yet)#arcane #arcane netflix #peachii fics #my fics #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #viktor lol

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