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✧ summary. Bucky, still experiencing nightmares and guilt from his past, starts doubting his ability to be the boyfriend he thinks you deserve.
✧ content. NSFW 18+ little smut with a plot ? no mention of y/n, established relationship between bucky and reader, thunderbolts mentioned but no spoilers (I think), a bit of angst but there’s comfort, slight mention of Bucky’s trauma, no mention of reader’s genitalia (but wrote this with a afab reader in mind), probably many grammar errors but tried my best !
There were few things that Bucky was grateful for after getting out of HYDRA's grasps following many years of torture, manipulation, and brainwashing. He was grateful for his friendship with Sam, despite stepping on the wrong foot when they first met. Regardless the constant bickering between them, the two developed a deep bond, and that's when they knew they would always have each other's backs. He also found himself grateful for his new team—The New Avengers or The Thunderbolts (he and Sam have yet to come to a legal agreement about the team's name). The group was quite chaotic, with Yelena's constant unneeded remarks, John constantly attempting to show off, Ava's uncalled attitude, Alexei's voice that's more powerful than a speaker, and Bob being the typical extrovert Bob. Nonetheless, he wouldn't change anything about them even if he could.
And there's you, his sweet girl.
He always wondered how he had gotten so lucky to have the woman of his dreams by his side. A part of him felt guilt creeping at the back of his neck each time he was living a joyful moment with his loved ones, which often left his knees shaking, wanting to collapse onto the floor and beg for forgiveness for the sins he had committed. Instead, he went quiet; he became once more the quietest person in the room, yet you noticed it each time.
You, the woman who looked at him with nothing but love, even after knowing he had blood on his hands. You, with the touch and the warmth that bring him back from the nightmares that continue to terrorize him throughout the day, the dark circles under his eyes prove it that much. You, who take such good care of him when he gets worse, on nights like this one when you get awakened by him suddenly jolting awake as he gasps for air, the sweat on his forehead making strands of his hair stick to it. He wakes up disoriented, his lungs feels restricted as if someone is holding on to them tightly, causing him to suffocate. He doesn’t know if he’s home with you or in the bad place—the very bad place. But he knows exactly where he is when he feels familiar soft arms wrap around his waist. That’s when he can finally breathe again, your soothing words comforting him. He can’t see much in the dark, but his nose recognizes the faint smell of your shampoo and the scented candle that you bought a week ago. He didn’t really enjoy the smell, but seeing that cheerful look in your eyes, filled with pride for your new purchase, made the smell grow on him. He felt tears brimming in his eyes as his head hung low, exhausted that he wasn’t able to sleep an entire night without his shame entering his dreams, making him relive everything once again as you whispered that he was okay, that he was safe, that he was home.
There were times when he pondered whether he was a burden to you, whether he was too much for you. His own insecurities often gave him the impression that his trauma was holding him back from being the man you needed, the man you deserved. The thought of you of leaving him, of you growing tired of him being ‘broken’ made him sick in his stomach and his heart. So he begins pulling away, even when his heart is begging for you; he thinks this will make things easier for both of you.
And he knows deep down that it won’t; he loves you way too damn much, which makes things harder instead.
It starts with him pulling away from your touches, not coming over to your apartment to see you as often as he did, canceling the movie nights where you’d make him watch movies that were once popular when you were a teenage girl, just so he doesn’t feel too old to understand the stupid references you make. And the more time he spends away from your presence, the more miserable he feels. But of course, you notice that he tries to grow distant from you. That’s when you sit him down on your couch—the same couch where you two shared laughter, kissed till you ran out of breath, rushing to crash your lips into each other once again, held each other tightly, made love there because he needed to be in you right then and there, and where you had cried in his protective arms.
You started questioning him: why was he pulling away from you? Have you done or said anything wrong to him?
It took him one look into your eyes to make him feel crushed. Your eyes held sadness and rejection, and it was his fault; he never wanted to hurt the one person who went beyond to understand him. He reflected on his actions and told you the honest truth. You listened to every word that came out of his rosy lips, taking notice of his quivering voice as his brows drew together, trying to focus on making sense out of his words. His ocean eyes looked down on the floor, embarrassed to look at you after hurting you. You took a step forward towards him, processing what he was saying.
When he finally came to a stop to his rant, you told him with a reassuring voice, the one that he loves so much, that you knew what you signed up for when you started dating him, especially when he had warned you that he was ‘broken’. But you never saw him as such; just a man who went through hardship and needed healing, and you promised him that you’d be there for him through everything. You fell for him hard, and you sure as hell weren’t going to leave him anytime soon.
The conversation ends with the sun going down as the quiet night settles, tears running down Bucky’s cheeks yet not falling too far before your thumb wipes them away. You and him exchanging sweet, breathless kisses, whispering “I love you”s between them. Your and his hands roaming around each other's bodies and pulling toward one another, wanting to be as close as possible, wanting to be in each other's skin.
“Fuck, please…”
Your legs were thrown over Bucky’s broad shoulders as he pumped deeply into you, his hands holding tightly onto your hips. The air felt warm and heavy, and you could feel your skin beginning to sweat as your face twisted in pleasure at Bucky’s thrusts.
"M’right here, sweetheart. What do you need?" he whispered as he leaned down to press his forehead against yours, his pace slightly slowing down. You felt your words stuck at the back of your throat, only whines coming out of your swollen lips. Upon seeing your state, your boyfriend pressed wet kisses along your jawline, encouraging you to speak your mind as if he wasn’t splitting you open.
"Haa… M’gonna cum," you moaned, your lips parted to form an ‘O.’ The room was filled with ‘plap, plap, plap’ sounds, making your gummy walls tighten around his pulsing length.
"Yeah? Cum f’r me then, baby." Bucky lifted your legs from his shoulders and pressed your thighs against your chest, making you gasp at how deep he felt inside you. His pace quickened once more, chasing both your orgasm and his, constantly hitting that spongy spot inside you and making your toes curl.
"Oh… God — please… I love you, I love you," you felt your orgasm creeping in as you began chanting your love for him, holding on to his shoulder.
"F-fuck — I—I love you too, baby… so much." He stole your lips for a kiss, moaning into it, his pace not faltering one bit.
You both came at the same time, and he pumped into you a bit more, his cum filling you up.
His forehead found yours once more after peppering it with sweet kisses as he told you how good you were for him. His eyes observed yours, looking for any discomfort; seeing there was none, he lay his head in the crook of your neck, leaving a love bruise. There was a comfortable silence that filled the air as your fingers ran through his brown hair, massaging his scalp.
"I’m not going anywhere Jamie," you whispered softly in his ear; his breath tickled your neck and he didn’t say anything for a second.
"I’m not goin’ anywhere either, ‘specially not without you."
