#marvel men

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You fall asleep with Bucky after a tough mission.

Disclaimer: mentions of body injuries from a mission, established relationship, domestic fluff, short read. Not proof read.

You were ready to sleep for a year. Three severely bruised ribs and two dozen other bruises scattered across your entire body, a stiff neck that had been reminded a little by a hot shower, at least a dozen cuts and scrapes to your skin and enough images that will probably pop up one random night in a nightmare when you’re least expecting it. It was safe to say you were tired. 

Bucky had spent most of his morning reading. After two back to back missions, he’d been ready for a break so when Banner and Cho had forced Fury’s hand and allowed both himself and Sam to take a few weeks rest, he was more than happy to take it. 

He hadn’t heard you come back. Nor had he heard you limp down the hallway towards your room a few hours before his alarm went off. But he heard you when you walked into the living area just a little after two. 

“Hey- oh-” 

This is just my opinion on how I imagine Loki! ✨ MDNI ✨

My Loki playlist to go with it 🦋

He loves simple physical touch like when you take his face in your hands and be gentle with him, forehead kisses and running your fingers through his hair. He just wants to be taken care of. 🥹

He’s very needy when kissing you, he can’t get you close enough to him.

He’s a whining mess when you kiss his neck, give him back scratches and lightly pull his hair.

Loves giving you kisses on your palm of your hands especially in public

In the morning waking up with you he’s very clingy and handsy kissing you anywhere and everywhere he can. Won’t let you go, he’ll keep pulling you back into bed.

He’s a attention seeker, when your busy doing something he just loves to give you kisses to your temples and the sensitive places on your neck to try and distract you and give him attention

Scott

It happened fast. One second you were teasing him in the Danger Room—“Bet you couldn’t hit a target without your visor”—and the next, a flicker of red light shot past your shoulder. Except it didn’t miss. You hit the floor with a grunt, shoulder scorched, pain blooming deep even if your healing factor already kicked in. Scott was beside you in a second, pale and wide-eyed. “Y/N—shit—are you okay?” You winced, half-laughing. “I mean… technically? Still alive. Jacket’s dead, though.” His hand hovered like he didn’t know what to do with it. “I wasn’t even aiming, I didn’t mean to—God, I’m so sorry.” You caught his hand, voice soft. “Hey. I can’t die, remember? You just gave me a really intense love tap.” “That’s not funny.” “It kinda is.” His jaw clenched. “I’m supposed to protect you. Not hurt you.” “And you do. Every day. Accidents happen, Scott.” You gave him a tired smile. “At least it was me and not, you know, someone fragile.” He pulled you into a gentle hug, still tense. “You’re getting two milkshakes out of this.” “And a new jacket,” you mumbled into his chest. “Deal.”

Bob

It happened in a blink—one second you were walking beside Bob in Central Park, fingers laced, the next your foot caught his as he stepped sideways, and you hit the pavement hard. “Oh—God, Y/N!” Bob dropped beside you in an instant, panic blooming behind his eyes. “I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t looking—I tripped you—are you okay?” Your palms were scraped, your knees throbbed, but the way his voice cracked hurt worse. “I’m okay,” you murmured, trying to sit up. “It’s not—” But he was already scooping you into his arms like you were made of glass. “No, you’re not,” he muttered, voice low and trembling. “How could you hurt her, stupid… idiot… can’t even walk straight without—” “Bob.” You cupped his cheek weakly. “It was an accident.” He didn’t answer, just held you closer and took off, walking faster back toward the Tower, eyes shining with shame. After arriving he ever so gently laid you in bed, like you’d break if he breathed too hard, and still wouldn’t meet your eyes. You pressed your forehead to his. “I’m fine, Bob. You didn’t break me.” “I could’ve,” he whispered. “And that’s enough to make me hate myself for a while.” You didn’t argue. You just wrapped your arms around his neck and let him hold you like you were the only thing keeping him from unraveling.

Sentry

You’d only touched his arm—trying to ground him mid-panic—and the energy lashed out like a sunflare, knocking you off your feet and sending you skidding across the rooftop. The moment it happened, the gold in his eyes dimmed. Sentry blurred across the distance, on his knees at your side before you’d even groaned. “No,” he whispered, voice trembling like distant thunder. “No, no—Goddess, what have I done…” You blinked up at him, dazed, blood at the corner of your lip. “Hey… it’s okay, I—” But he was already cradling you with such reverence it made your heart ache. His glowing hands hovered, brushing over your skin with featherlight care as if touch alone could heal you. “I didn’t mean to—never to you—how could I be so careless?” he murmured, brow pressed to your forehead. “My radiant one… my light, I nearly scorched the stars from your eyes…” You flushed hard, eyes wide. “I-I’m really okay—” “No.” His voice dropped to a worshipful whisper. “You are everything. And I… I’m fire. Chaos. I don’t deserve to touch you, not even like this.” “Sen,” you said softly—but he wasn’t Bob. Not now. He was something ancient. Divine. Crumbling beneath guilt. And yet he held you like you were sacred. Like you were the only thing anchoring him to the earth. You were still blushing when he whispered, “You’re my goddess. My only peace.” God help you—you almost melted right there.

Void

He only meant to be kind. You looked tired, worn down. So the Void started the shower for you—hot, blistering, purifying. The way he liked it. He thought you’d appreciate the heat. He didn’t expect the scream. You’d barely stepped in when your voice rang out, sharp and pained—and then came the thud of you hitting the tile. He was there instantly, tearing the curtain aside, catching you as you stumbled back, your skin flushed raw. “The hell were you doing?” you hissed, shaking, clutching your arm. “It’s scalding—” His jaw tensed. “Then maybe you should’ve checked before jumping in like a fool.” You stared at him, stunned. “You started it for me.” “I started it how I thought you’d want it. I’m not psychic.” His voice was sharp, unkind—but his hands were already on you, steadying, inspecting the burns with a cold precision that trembled at the edges. “You’re not made for things like this,” he muttered. “Fragile skin. Warm blood. You expect fire and touch to feel the same?” You flinched at his words—but he caught your chin, tilting your head to meet his glowing gaze. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not Bob. I don’t coddle. I’m not Sentry. I don’t worship.” But even as he said it, his thumb brushed your cheek with infuriating gentleness. “You think I meant to hurt you? That I wanted to hear you cry out like that?” His voice cracked, just for a second. Then, quieter—angrier, but aimed at himself: “Stupid thing. Why would you trust something like me with comfort?” You didn’t answer—just watched him crumble under his own cruelty. He leaned in, lips brushing your temple “I’d burn this world before I let anyone else hurt you,” he whispered. “But you? You walk straight into my fire and act surprised when it burns.” And still, his hand cradled you like something holy. Still, you blushed under his words. Because even in his fury, even in denial—he cared for you, even he doesn’t say it.

Bucky

You woke to thrashing. The bedsheets were tangled, Bucky’s chest heaving, sweat beading on his forehead as he jerked in place—half-choked whispers spilling from his lips, lost in some nightmare you couldn’t follow. “Bucky,” you murmured, sitting up slowly. “Hey… Bucky, it’s okay, you’re safe.” You reached for him—gentle, careful—but the moment your hand touched his shoulder, he exploded upward, grabbing you so fast it blurred. Cold vibranium wrapped around your throat. You froze—his hand tightening just enough to steal breath, not break bone. His eyes were wide, feral, gone. “Bucky—” you choked. And then the world snapped back into place. His grip released instantly, as if burned. You collapsed against the pillows, coughing. He staggered away from the bed like he’d been shot, back hitting the doorframe, panic etched into every inch of him. “Oh my God—no—no, I didn’t—” You sat up, touching your throat, feeling the bruise already forming. “Bucky, it’s okay, you were dreaming—“ “I grabbed you.” His voice broke. “I hurt you.” “It was an accident,” you said softly, stepping toward him. He backed up like you were the one with the knife. “Don’t. Don’t come closer.” You stopped, heart aching. “I’m not afraid of you.” “You should be.” He looked haunted—like Winter Soldier was still inside him, claws sunk in deep. But you just whispered, “You’re not him anymore.” And slowly, slowly, his back slid down the doorframe until he sat on the floor, shaking. Still breathing. Still here.

John

It all happened in a blur. John hurled the shield at the last merc with a grunt—clean, practiced, perfect form. It hit, bounced off a metal pillar—and then crack. A sharp whimper followed. Not from the enemy. His heart dropped. He turned. You were on the ground, curled halfway on your side, hand cradling your face. Blood streaked through your fingers, dripping from a deep gash running across your cheek and split lips. “Y/N—” You didn’t answer—just whimpered again, eyes squeezed shut, breathing shaky. He froze for half a second—only half—before something in him snapped and he turned on the remaining enemies like a storm. Fists, boots, shield—no hesitation, no mercy. It was fast. Brutal. Over. The second the last one fell, he dropped the shield and bolted to your side. “Hey—hey, look at me,” he said, kneeling hard beside you. “Jesus Christ, I—did I—?” Your fingers shifted, revealing the raw slice along your cheek and the blood pooling at the corner of your mouth. His stomach turned. “I didn’t see—I wasn’t aiming for you, I swear to God—fuck, I didn’t—” “I know,” you whispered, voice cracked and trembling. He hovered there, hands out like he wanted to touch you but didn’t trust himself to. “You’re bleeding. God, I hit you with the shield, I—” “I know,” you whispered again. And finally, his hand landed gently on your back, grounding himself. Voice rough, barely holding it together, he murmured, “I’m so sorry, darlin’. I swear I’ll never let that happen again.”

Logan

You thought you could sneak up on him. Logan sat by the fire, eyes closed, lost in some rare moment of peace. Quiet as a cat, you crept closer, ready to surprise him. But then—his head snapped up. The faintest sound had reached his super-sharp senses. Before you could blink, claws slid out with a metallic shing—and grazed your throat. You gasped, hand flying to the sting. A thin red line bloomed where his claw had nicked you. Logan’s eyes widened. “Shit, Y/N. I didn’t mean” You held up a finger, brushing the cut lightly. “It’s okay. Just a scratch.” His jaw clenched, shoulders tight. “Damn it. I’m sorry.” You smiled, stepping closer, voice soft. “You’re not a monster, Logan. You’re just… always ready.” He grunted, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly the stealthiest.” You laughed, wincing as the cut stung. “Guess I’m terrible at sneaking.” He smirked, claws retracting with a final click. “You’re lucky I’m not more violent.” “You’re lucky I love you anyway.” He shook his head, a rare warmth in his eyes. “Hell of a way to say it.”

(Would yall like one where they hurt you during bedroom time??)