Requested by Anonymous: Bucky fluff when he’s still like fresh out of his kgb days? maybe reader likes to cuddle up to him and he’s still very afraid to hurt her or he not used to being this close to aother body? thank you xxxx
AN: LOVE THIS REQUEST
Warnings: none
*gif not mine
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MASTERLIST
Bucky was in the bed, scrolling through his phone mindlessly because, let’s be honest, he still had a hard time with those damn devices. His face was scrunched up in both anger and confusion, and you watched him with a soft smile on your lips.
He has been evolving since he was back with Steve, and being close to you was always a problem. He would tense up, hands in fists, jaw clenched. He would scoot away or clear this throat uncomfortably. You didn’t want to play with his safe zone, so you remained distant, but you were so in love with this man that it took everything in you to keep away.
He saw in the doorway and waved a little awkwardly. “Hey.”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
You padded over to the bed and got under the covers, aware that Bucky was watching you with an intense, guarded glare.
Once you were settled in, you scooted closer, watching his shoulders tense, fingers whiteknuckling the phone. “Can I lay my head on your chest?” you asked, looking up at him.
His jaw set, lips pinched. Then he nodded, opening up his left arm so that you could comfortably settled into his embrace. You slowly lay your head where his heart beat, feeling the heat of his skin, laying your palm onto his stomach.
He set the phone down. “Good day?” he asked, his voice strained.
“Yes.” You smiled. “You?”
“Y-yeah.”
Metal fingers gripped your shoulder when you wrapped your entire arm around his middle. “Is this okay?” you whispered.
Silence. Then, slowly, “Yes.”
You stayed like that for a while, listening to his heart and his breathing. He was nervous. His skin was boiling and his heart was bashing against his rib cage.
“Can I kiss you?”
Your head raised from his chest, surprised that he had been the one to ask. Kisses mostly came from you, and they were short and very prude. He was always so scared to lose control with you.
His flesh hand slowly crept onto your cheek, shivers racing down your spine. He brought his lips to yours in a chaste, soft kiss. Eyes closed, you leaned in, grasping his wrist in your hand. He kissed you softly, moving his lips minimally, as if he was afraid to do more.
But you wanted more. You always did, especially when it came to kissing. You got onto your knees, hips shifting under the covers, and slowly straddled his waist, all while keeping his mouth on yours.
His metal hand shot up to your hip, breaking from the kiss, to stare up at you with pink on his cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” you blurted. “I’ll get off.”
But he held you there, chest heaving. “This is okay,” he mumbled.
You smiled, relieved you hadn’t pushed over the limit. You were so scared to do something one day that would be too much.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you down until you were pressed flat against him, cheek on his heart again. Warmth seeped into you, relief and the buzz of butterflies scattering along your flesh.
“This is okay,” he whispered, before he kissed the top of your head. It was the first time you fell asleep like that with him.
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