Also while I'm at it, here a thought I've been mulling in my head: bucky has touch aversion and the reader is a very physically affectionate person. She's the only one he can stand to touch him 🥺💕
THIS IS A BIT LONG AND I WILL NOT APOLOGISE BECAUSE I WAS INSPIRED
Drabble requests are open!
For many people, touch is something completely natural, something they don't even think about. They don't ponder over shaking hands before a meeting, or hugging their friends in greeting, or kissing their loved one.
For Bucky though, touch was something he instinctively shied away from. He preferred sitting at the kitchen island instead of the dining table, where anyone's knee or foot or shoulder could bump with him. On missions, he usually worked alone, from a distance, with only his rifle to keep him company, while the rest of the team is just a buzz in his ear, and on the way back home, he'd keep to himself in the back of the jet.
The team never took it personally, they understood. Given his past, his aversion to touch made complete sense. Bucky appreciated that after a while everyone learned to interacted with him without the need to touch him or invade his personal space, it was more effort than he would've ever dared to ask for.
There were of course times, mostly during any sort of public appearances, where people, usually important people, demanded a firm handshake. They would get offended and play it off with some unfunny joke whenever Bucky didn't lift a finger towards them, until someone physically stepped between them to end the interaction short.
Often it was Steve, who kept watch over Bucky like his life depended on it. Sometimes it was Wanda, flashing red eyes and malicious smile she reserved only for people she didn't like. Sometimes it was Sam, who distracted the other party with a smart comment. And then sometimes, it was you.
Sweet, soft-spoken you, one of the many agents from SHIELD's PR department.
You were relatively new when you were thrown into the deep water that was being assigned to the Avengers. When Bucky first met you, he worried he wouldn't see you for much longer. There was no way someone so adorable and gentle could face the vicious reporters they often had to deal with.
You proved him wrong, of course, the very first time you tagged along with the team to a massive press conference. You had a fascinating way of putting people right in their place with the sweetest smile on your face, keeping everyone on the team safe from rude and intrusive questions.
After one of such conferences, while leaving the stage, you tripped and almost fell down the three steps leading down to safety. Before you so much as realised what happened, Bucky caught you by the waist and pulled you back a step. Once safe, you looked up at him with those pretty eyes of yours and smiled at him brightly. You didn't even flinch at his hands still on your waist when you thanked him, and Bucky didn't mind either when you reached up to his right hand and squeezed it gently, before trotting after the other Avengers backstage.
That was the day it all started.
It was an unusual friendship, at first, even gained a few curious looks from his friends and your coworkers, but Bucky didn't much care. He'd seek you out for the most mundane of reasons, and you'd always greet him with a smile warm like the sun.
Bucky had seen you interact with other people and he knew how natural it came to you to hug someone, pat their shoulder or grab their hand when you got excited. He was grateful that you kept yourself from doing the same to him, but for once, Bucky wanted your touch.
You were safety, you were warmth, and damn if those weren't things Bucky crave beyond everything else.
The first time you cautiously held his hand, after an unusually harsh encounter in the middle of Brooklyn with people who were definitely not fans, Bucky all but melted into your touch. You rubbed his forearm comfortingly, but truth be told, he had already erased from his memory what the other had said. All he remembered from that day was your warm palms on him.
Bucky didn't so much as lower his guard around you, but completely threw it out the window and slammed it shut. You started joining the team's social evenings - game and movie nights, small get-togethers, birthdays and themed parties. And the moment you walked through the door, you'd make Bucky's night great just by being there.
It was one of those nights, when he realised you were it for him.
You had a few too many drinks, just like everyone else, and after a bit of dancing and a failed attempt to beat Sam in a game of pool, you ended up on the couch next to Bucky. Or rather, half on top of him - your head on his shoulder, leg hooked over his thigh, one arm behind his back and the other over his stomach. Bucky has never seen you more content than when you were draped over him.
"You alright there, Buck?" Steve head popped up from behind the couch, startling Bucky, seeing as he completely ignored everything else but you.
He could hear the concern in Steve's voice, but also the tint of amusement at his friend's current situation. Bucky glanced up at Steve, then back at your half-asleep face and smiled.
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HAYLEY HIIIII IT'S BEEN SO LONG HOW ARE YOU??? Hope you're having a great day 😘💕❤️💓💗💖♥️💞
FATIMAAAA HELLO!!!!!!! IT REALLY HAS BEEN FOREVER!!!!! i’ve been okay! I ended up getting sick (the damn covid) and i’ve been in isolation for 11ish days, but i’m actually feeling infinitely better, i just am waiting for this fever to go away! It’s been kind of an odd experience but i’m doing well. HOW ARE YOU!!!!! I hope you’re doing super great ILY 💖💘💕💕💞💞💓💜💝
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Summary: The reader loses her grace, loses everything she has ever known, and is cast down to Earth. Bucky is the demon who loves causing chaos in little human mins. What does he do when he happens upon a broken angel?
Ps. This moodboard is based on ONLY the prologue bc I'm an impatient bitch and Fatima's not online.
That @revengingbarnes is an amazing writer and everything she writes is pure gold. Follow her please and read all that she offers. You won't be disappointed.
The air is thick with humidity and the setting sun refuses to let up the heat. The stake out was brutal, despite managing to spend most of it hidden in the shade, the heatwave has exhausted your over the past few days. All you want is to just take a cold shower and lay in bed, or maybe on the windowsill in hopes of catching some of the cooler night breeze.
But James Barnes seems set on ruining your plans, your life, and your underwear.
There he is, in his tac pants, thick, rough black fabric stretching over his thighs as he sits in one of the two armchairs in your hotel room, cleaning his guns and sharpening his knives.
And he does all this it shirtless, the bastard.
You drop the paper bag of takeout on the side table and kick the door closed, eyes never leaving him, even though he doesn't show any sign of even noticing you. Your bag is next, thrown on the bed, followed by your cap, thin plaid shirt, your tank top and bra too. You kick your boots off next and rip your belt out of your jeans belt hoops. Still no reaction from your partner.
You walk over to the window, draw the deep red floor-to-ceiling drapes closed. A displeased grunt comes from behind you, bothered by the lack of light required for the task Bucky was busy with.
Finally you turn around to find Bucky still trying to sharpen a knife in the near darkness of the room. You close the distance between you and gently take the knife from his hands, place it on the table and nudge away all the other junk he's got on the surface.
Bucky looks at you curiously, his lips twitching towards a smirk when he notices your state of undress and your worked up state. Your knees almost buckle when he shifts in his sit, his hips sliding forward a bit so he can spread his legs further for you. Him and his damn thighs will be the death of you one day, you just know it.
You stand in front of him, between those powerful legs and reach out to run your hands through his hair, kept short now, but still thick and soft. By the time your fingers reach his neck and shoulders, his thumbs are rubbing circles into your hips and his lips are leaving wet little kisses along your ribs and down your stomach.
"I want you." You tell him and he makes a quick job of your jeans and panties, both ending up somewhere else in the room, you don't even care where.
Bucky goes to undo his pants, but for once, you have other plans.
"No." You stop him shortly and he looks up at you, surprised.
You grab his shoulders for balance and sit yourself over his left thigh. You sigh the moment the rough fabric touches your already sensitive core. You rake your fingers down his chest, short nails just sharp enough you leave pink marks under dark, short hair. You fingers find their destination at his belt, where you take good hold of it to help you with what you're about to do.
Bucky sighs too, as he sinks back against the chair and gets comfortable for the show. He loves when you get like this, needy, bossy and most importantly, all his.
Using his belt as leverage, you roll your hips once, twice and your shoulders drop as pleasure starts to overcome you. Bucky's metal palm touches your stomach, making you flinch at the cool feeling, but as it slides up your torso, between the valley of your breasts, you realise the cold metal feels amazing on your heated skin.
His fingers wrap around your neck, simply holding you and your eyes roll to the back of your head just like that. Because that's just the effect Bucky has on you. Neither of you speaks, he lets you do whatever you want, same way you let him sometimes.
You alternate between short quick movements and long drags against him, the friction almost too much, almost painful, but you are so worked up, you don't care. You start to pant as you work your sensitive clit against him and when he squeezes the sides of your neck just a fraction, you let out a moan so low, you don't even recognise your own voice.
"That's it, darling. Make yourself feel good." Bucky purrs from the best seat in the house, thoroughly enjoying watching you loose yourself like this.
You want to tell him to be quiet, but you're almost there, you've almost gotten what you wanted. You shift up his thigh a bit, head thrown back, eyes closed and lips open as you gasp for air. Your core meets the smooth leather and rough stitches of his thigh holster and with only a few more rolls of your hips, you finally reach your climax. Your own thighs clench around his as pleasure washes over you and makes your mind go blank and your body shake.
When you regain your senses, Bucky is rubbing your thighs with his rough palms and kisses your neck.
"Enjoyed that?" He asks you cheekily, as if he doesn't know you're absolutely mad for him.
"Uh-huh." You grin dumbly, satisfied and a bit drained.
"How about we continue in the shower, hm?"
"Only if you carry me." You peck his lips and chuckle when he shakes his head.
"You get really bossy on missions, you know." Bucky says, but still helps you drape your arms over his shoulders and hoists you up like you weight nothing. He stands and walks to the bathroom, weapons and mission stuff forgotten completely.
"You like it."
"Oh, honey." Bucky kicks the bathroom door closed with you still in his arms. "I love it."
