Thunderbolts Bucky Barnes X Reader - Blog Posts

read pt.1 here

uh warning for blood again and again it's not that descriptive lol

｡⋆𖦹.✧˚──

it was late when bucky finally came home. you heard him before you saw him, the soft shuffle of boots by the door, the quiet clink of keys landing in the dish you’d both agreed was “aesthetic” even though neither of you actually cared.

he let out a long, tired breath, the kind that said today had been a lot. maybe it was training. maybe it was meetings. maybe someone said something stupid and he had to keep himself from punching them through a wall. again. you were curled up on the couch, wearing one of his old shirts, frayed at the collar, soft from years of washes, still smelling faintly like him. you’d gotten home an hour or so earlier, dropped your things, kicked off your boots, and started to decompress. or at least, you tried. but you were hungry.

not food hungry. not in the usual sense. not in the way normal people were after a long day. no—this was the kind of hunger that settled behind your ribs and tugged at your spine. it stirred quietly at first, but by the time bucky walked in, it was loud. gnawing. electric. he stepped into the living room, face softening the second he saw you.

“hey, baby,” he said, dropping his bag near the table.

“hi,” you murmured, eyes locked on him.

he paused. tilted his head, a little amused. a little curious.

“you eat?”

you shook your head. “not yet.”

he gave a low, knowing laugh and moved toward the bookshelf. “figured. you’ve got that look in your eye.”

you watched him as he pulled out a dog eared paperback, one you’d seen him reread a dozen times. his vibranium arm caught the lamplight as he settled into the armchair across from you, thumbing open the book.

you didn’t move for a second. just watched him. the curve of his throat, the line of his jaw, the way the muscles in his forearm flexed slightly as he turned the page. the gold and brown light painted across his skin like something holy. you rose without a sound. padded across the room, slow and careful, but there was nothing predatory about it. not really. this wasn’t about taking. this was about wanting. needing. he didn’t flinch when you slid into his lap. didn’t say a word when you nuzzled your nose against his neck, breathing him in.

“rough day?” you asked, voice soft.

“mm,” he hummed, eyes scanning the page. “long. annoying. too many people talking and not enough doing.”

your lips brushed the edge of his jaw.

“you gonna fix that for me?” he asked, teasing now, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“maybe,” you said, letting your lips trail down the column of his throat. “depends if you let me.”

he tilted his head back slightly, exposing more skin, still pretending to read. “i always let you.”

your fangs pressed gently to his pulse point. he didn’t flinch. didn’t tense. just sighed, low and content.

“you smell good,” you murmured.

“you always say that,” he muttered, flipping the page.

“it’s always true.”

you licked a slow stripe across the side of his neck, tasting the salt there, the warmth, the faintest trace of iron beneath his skin. his heart beat steady and strong.

“go ahead,” he whispered.

you didn’t need to be told twice.

your mouth opened over his neck, your fangs sinking in with practiced ease. he inhaled sharply through his nose, his hand tightening on the armrest. the blood hit your tongue warm and rich, heady like dark wine and something deeper underneath. like rain on hot pavement. like warmth in winter.

he kept reading. barely even twitched.

you fed slowly, taking your time, mouth sealed to his skin, one hand on his chest to steady yourself. he was warm, solid beneath you. grounding. he murmured something you couldn’t hear, probably reacting to something in the book. your hunger quieted, replaced by that soft hum of connection, the bond between you thick in the air. this was trust. this was something holy.

when you finally pulled back, lips still tingling, you licked the punctures clean. they were already closing, healing faster than they should. his eyes met yours, still half lidded, still calm.

“better?” he asked.

“mmhm.”

you shifted in his lap, curling against his chest. he closed the book and wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“good,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “hate seeing my girl all hungry.”

you smiled.

you fell asleep like that, tangled up in him, warm and full, the city beyond your windows fading into a hush. let them call him a hero. let the world watch him save it over and over again. you had him first. and he was home with you.

｡⋆𖦹.✧˚──

the apartment is quiet except for the soft sound of the stove and the distant rhythm of traffic outside. your daughter is at the table, her little legs swinging from the chair, tongue poking out in concentration as she draws. crayon in one hand, juice box in the other. there's a mess of purple scribbles that sort of look like a shield. or maybe a cat. you’re chopping vegetables one handed, phone balanced on your shoulder, listening to a voicemail from your sister you’ve already heard twice today. the mundane feels good. normal. still. the front door doesn’t creak anymore—bucky fixed the hinge last week—but you still hear him before you see him. boots scuffing the hallway floor. the rustle of that jacket he won’t get rid of. you glance up and he’s there, like he always is lately. a little tired around the eyes, jaw set, still half lost in whatever mission they just pulled him from.

he drops his duffel at the door and steps out of his boots before he even says hi. you know what that means. it was a rough one.

“hey,” you say, not turning around yet.

“hey.” his voice is low, rasped at the edges. he moves into the kitchen slowly, like he’s not sure how to belong in the quiet after everything loud.

“daddy!” lily shouts, twisting in her seat. she scrambles down and runs to him.

his face softens the second she touches him. “hey,” he says, crouching low to catch her. “what’d i miss?”

“i drew you!" she announces proudly, pulling him by the hand toward the table.

he gives you a quick glance, something grateful in it, like he’s thanking you just for being here, for holding it all together.

you dry your hands and join them. lily is explaining the drawing: him in a suit, you with a bow and arrow (which you definitely don’t use anymore), and some kind of flying car in the sky. bucky listens like it’s the most important briefing he’s ever received.

“that me?” he asks, pointing at the stick figure with messy scribbles for hair and something that might be a star on his chest.

“yeah,” she grins. “you’re an avenger now.”

bucky huffs a laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. “guess i am, huh.”

he doesn’t sound proud. not exactly. more like he’s still trying to believe it. still doesn’t know what it means to be one of the good guys. still doesn’t feel like he belongs in the lineup. but you see it. in the way he kneels on the kitchen floor to listen to his daughter’s stories. in the way he checks every window and door before bed. in how he wakes up in the middle of the night just to look at the two of you and make sure it’s real. he’s not the winter soldier anymore. he’s something new. something softer. something harder to define.

after dinner, he helps clean up without being asked. washes dishes with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, that vibranium arm gleaming under the kitchen light. you lean against the counter, watching him in the quiet.

“you okay?” you ask.

he nods slowly. “just… tired.”

you reach for him without thinking, resting a hand on his back. “i can’t tell if you mean physically or existentially.”

he gives a small, tired smile. “both.”

there’s a pause. then, quieter: “they’re calling us something new now,” he says. “not 'thunderbolts' anymore. it’s more official. more public.”

“new avengers?”

“something like that.”

you nod. you expected this. since val’s people started cleaning house and putting the new lineup together. since they sent him back into the field with an actual team and something that looked like purpose.

“you good with that?” you ask.

he shrugs. “i don’t know. i keep waiting for someone to realize i’m not supposed to be there.”

“bucky,” you say, serious now. “you’ve earned this.”

“have i?”

“you show up. every day. for us. for them. for yourself. what more do you want?”

he leans in then, forehead to yours, just breathing you in.

later, after lily’s asleep and the apartment is dark except for the low lamp by the bed, he crawls in beside you and wraps an arm around your waist.

“i don’t know how to be the guy she thinks i am,” he murmurs.

you press a kiss to his collarbone. “you don’t have to be. just... be here for her.”

he exhales against your neck. “that, i can do.”

you two couldn't sleep. the blankets in the bed are pulled up to your waists, your legs tangled without thinking. the lamp casts a warm gold over the room. he’s lying on his side, head propped on his hand, his hair’s still damp from the shower, curling just a little at the ends, and his skin smells like your body wash.

“you're pretty.” he praises lowly, voice rough and tired.

you smile, eyes closed. “mm. pretty sure you said that yesterday.”

he leans in, nose brushing your jaw, lips finding the edge of your neck. slow, unhurried. “yeah, well. still true.”

you hum, tilting your chin up for him without even thinking. he kisses the spot just beneath your ear, where your pulse flutters, and you feel him smile against your skin. his hand slides over your hip under the blanket, fingertips tracing the shape of you like he’s grounding himself there. he tugs gently at the edge of his old henley you’d stolen months ago. his hand doesn’t stop moving. just slow passes over the curve of your waist, your thigh, your back. it’s not rushed. not needy.

he mouths at your jaw, your neck, just a press of lips. not quite kisses. you think maybe he’s too tired for anything more. you’re so caught up in the press of his body, the feel of him in your space, that you almost don’t notice when his hand presses into the small of your back and tugs. he pushes you gently until you’re on your back, flat against the bed. he shifts, moving to hover over you like always. he leans in for a proper kiss then, slow and warm. something like coming home. you meet him with a hand in his hair, keeping him there, and feel his answering smile against your lips. it’s not long before it edges deeper, rougher. he bites at your lip, tugging softly, and you arch up against him with a sharp inhale. "lily's right there—" you breathe out.

he doesn’t pull away. just hums against your mouth. he noses at your neck again, the rough edge of his stubble dragging over your skin. "she’s the heaviest sleeper on the planet. we’ll be fine.”

you kiss him, warm breath mingling in the hush between heartbeats. he smiles into the kiss, hand sliding up to cup your jaw, thumb sweeping over your cheek. steadying you as your mouth moves in a quiet rhythm, tasting the moment. it’s soft but deliberate, each kiss deepening just enough to make you both lean in more, wanting, needing, sighing into eachother. the world narrows to skin, and lips. his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. it’s so gentle, so careful.

just as he’s pulled back a fraction, the bedroom door creaks open. he’s off you in a second, dropping to his elbows at your side. you’re both breathing heavy, heart going wild. lily stands in the doorway, looking tiny in her little white nightgown. “can’t sleep?” bucky asks, running a hand through his hair. you notice in the low light that the tips of his ears are flushed pink. your shirt collar is askew, his henley twisted around your waist. she shakes her head and pads over. she’s rubbing one eye with a tiny fist and dragging her blanket on the floor behind her. bucky props himself up, shifting to make room for her on the bed. 

“alright. come here,” he murmurs, lifting her up. she slots herself in between you easily, shoving her face in your shoulder like she always does. she’s warm from sleep, the side of her little body pushing flush against yours. bucky’s hand is splayed across her back, his thumb rubbing idle circles. 

“how are you doing?” you ask, smoothing her messy hair down. usually, once she’s down for the night, she’s out for the count. 

she looks up at you, blinking sleepily, then at him. his cheek is resting on top of her head. “i had a nightmare,” she mumbles into your shirt. 

his face softens instantly. you can feel his hand on her back pause for a second. “what about?” he asks. 

“you an’ momma were gone,” she mumbles, voice going soft. “for a long time.” her little fist grips your shirt tighter. 

“not going anywhere, kid,” he says, voice low. he presses a kiss to her head, eyes still on you. “promise.” 

he's my lovely life saver

doesn't mind my bad behavior.ᐟ

content warning for blood it's not descriptive but if that makes you uncomfy uh um yeah just scroll

also this might be pt.1 of a few more fics cause i kinda wanna write vampire x bucky with him in that new fucking avengers suit 👅 god i need him so bad

pt.2

it was a humid evening. the city lights reflecting off the sleek glass towers that lined the skyline, the buzz of the metropolis still alive even as the night began to fall. you’d been in the city for a few months now, settling into your role in politics and keeping your secret under wraps. but the longer you spent time with bucky, the more difficult it became to maintain the distance between you and the truth. you’d met him at a fundraiser months ago, and the chemistry was immediate. the way his eyes seemed to see right through you, yet never asked the right questions. he was always kind, considerate. an odd trait among the usual crowd you mingled with. he had an intensity to him that matched your own, something in his eyes that made you feel understood without having to say a word.

over time, you both grew closer. at first, it was the long conversations over coffee and late night dinners, and then more casual outings around the city. as much as you tried to keep things professional, there was always something more with you two. it happened by accident. really. you were sitting with him at his apartment, the apartment was warm, the living room was dimly lit, the flickering light from the television casting a soft glow on the two of you as you sat on the couch, you’d been here before, spending hours talking, laughing, and watching movies late into the night. but tonight, everything felt different. the closeness had grown, subtle and inevitable. the way his fingers brushed against yours when you passed him the popcorn, the way he always made sure you were comfortable, the way his eyes lingered just a moment too long on your lips when you spoke... it all felt like an invitation. curled up on his couch, the soft murmur of a movie playing in the background. you were both a little tipsy from the wine, a bit more relaxed than usual, your barriers worn thin from the hours of quiet company.

"you always talk about how you’re so busy," bucky said, his voice teasing but not unkind. "but i don’t think i’ve ever seen you take a break. don’t you need one?"

"i don’t really get tired," you muttered, a touch too quickly. it wasn’t something you meant to say, but the wine made it slip past your lips before you could stop it.

he glanced at you, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "you don’t get tired? that’s... interesting."

you froze, realizing what you’d just said. shit. your heart rate spiked slightly, though you did your best to hide the telltale signs. you forced a nonchalant smile, turning the moment into a joke. "guess i’m just a workaholic. don’t worry about it."

bucky leaned back against the cushions, his head tilted slightly as he watched you. you felt his gaze like a weight on your skin, his eyes dark and soft, studying you in a way that made your breath catch. you tried to focus on the movie, but his presence was all consuming. you could feel the heat of his body beside yours, the warmth of his arm just inches away.

“you look like you’re miles away,” he murmured.

you blinked, shaking yourself out of your thoughts, and turned to face him. “sorry, just... lost in my head for a second.”

“well, you know, that’s my job,” he said with a playful smirk, “to make sure you’re not lost in your own thoughts for too long.”

you chuckled, but the tension in the air hadn’t loosened. if anything, it felt like it was building, the unspoken connection between you both growing thicker. he was so close now, his scent smelled like he was carved straight out of war and winter. smoke, metal, leather, but softened by something warmer underneath, something maddening. it wasn’t cologne. no, it was the scent of him, baked into cotton and skin and the hollow of his throat. like clean sweat after a workout, salt kissed and heavy, the kind that made your mouth water when you caught it up close. there was that sharp, biting edge of gun oil and steel, like he’d just come back from something violent, but wrapped in the deep, grounding warmth of cedarwood and dark amber that had no business being that comforting. he smelled like the inside of a well worn jacket, like something you’d bury your face into and never give back. and underneath it all, there was heat. skin heat. something raw and male and barely restrained, like if you got too close you’d lose yourself in it. there was a sweetness to it, faint, maybe from whatever soap he used. something cheap and scentless meant to go unnoticed, but on him? it smelled like sin. it filled your senses. it made you feel... alive in a way that you hadn’t for a long time.

before you could stop yourself, your body shifted closer to his, the space between you disappearing. his breath caught, but he didn’t pull away. instead, he moved a little closer, and suddenly, everything that had been building between you both snapped into place. bucky’s lips were on yours before you even realized what was happening. the kiss was soft at first, gentle, he wanted to make sure you were there with him. you didn’t hesitate. your hand found its way to his shoulder, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

it wasn’t like the others. this felt different. his lips moved against yours with purpose, his hand sliding to your back, tugging you even closer. you could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt, his body strong and warm. your heart thudded in your chest, and you didn’t want to pull away. as the kiss deepened, your senses sharpened. you could feel every breath he took, hear the thrum of his pulse, steady and strong. it was like your body was on fire, and you couldn’t control it. your hand slid up to his neck, fingers brushing the skin there, feeling the flutter of his pulse beneath your fingertips. the temptation hit you then— an undeniable need. without thinking your lips trailed from his mouth, moving down the line of his jaw to the soft skin of his neck. you heard him quickly breathe in through his nose, a sound that made your pulse spike in response. your mouth hovered just above his skin for a moment, and then, without a second thought, you pressed your lips to the warmth of his neck. you kissed him again, this time more urgently, the blood singing in your veins, the hunger that you kept buried deep inside you threatening to surface. you couldn’t stop. your lips parted, teeth grazing the skin of his neck just enough to feel the pulse beating beneath. there was a sharp intake of breath from him, but still, he didn’t pull away.

the sensation of his skin against your lips, his pulse beneath you, was too much. the hunger, the need, surged forward, and before you could stop it, you bit down gently. the rush of warmth flooded your senses, flooding you with an almost dizzying euphoria. you pulled at his neck, the taste of his skin and the soft, rhythmic thrum of his blood sending a shiver through you. bucky’s hands tightened on you, his body stiffening for a moment, but then, to your surprise, he didn’t push you away. instead, his fingers threaded through your hair, pulling you closer, urging you on. his breathing had become shallow, his pulse erratic under your mouth.

you didn’t take much. just enough to feel that rush, that satisfying pull that made your whole body hum. you pulled away slowly, your lips lingering on his neck for a moment longer, savoring the warmth of his skin. his pulse was still racing beneath your lips, but his grip on you had softened, his body relaxed against you. you met his eyes, breathless, your heart still racing, unsure of what he was thinking, or what he felt. but then he spoke, his voice almost a whisper.

“is this... okay?” his words were tentative, though his gaze was full of something that made your chest tighten.

you nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly settled between you two. “yeah, it’s... perfect.”

he smiled back at you, a little dazed, but still with that warmth in his eyes. bucky kissed you again, deeper this time. like you weren't just someone he wanted to kiss, but something he needed to hold onto. and god, the way he kissed. slow, heavy, hungry. like he was trying to crawl inside you and stay there. you made a soft sound as his other hand settled on your waist, guiding you into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. he was so warm under you, all solid muscle and quiet strength, thighs like stone, arms wrapping around you like he'd rather die than let you go.