runaway (bucky barnes x reader)

4. cock-block

Work Text:
Maybe you were always meant to marry someone like him. Nah, you're just drunk. It's been a week since Bucky assaulted the shit out of your heart with pretty little words. A lot can happen in a week.

"It may hurt," he says, searching your eyes.

"I can tell," you retort.

"Are you sure about this?"

You snort. "It's not like I've never done this before."

"I know." He gives you a look. "It didn't exactly go very well the first time."

You cringe a little inside, trying to repress the memory of what had been an absolute shitstorm. "Yeah, well this is different. This isn't the first time so..." you swallow.

"You're going to actually let me finish this time?" You roll your eyes, sensing the tinge of amusement and humor in his tone.

"Just do it."

"Alright, get on the bed." His fingers trace the pristine duvet. You wonder what they would feel like on your skin, not that you don't already know. But with him, it's different every time.

"Actually, do you have handcuffs lying around?" you ask biting your lips.

"I'm a fugitive, not a cop." Bucky swiped a stray chuck of hair from your face. "What do you think?"

"Okay Mr. Touchy-Feely, I'm sorry for trying to make sure you won't get hurt," you say rolling my eyes at his sarcasm. He nods as you fall back against the down pillows.

"Cute. But you forget I'm invincible," he says, parting your things with his knee. You move further back, holding on to his bicep until you're fully lying on your back.

"You wish," you say, he smirks at you as his metal fingers trace your inner thigh. You take in a sharp inhale in anticipation, you can feel the ridges of his synthetic fingers.

"How's that feel?" You nod in response and he chuckles. "I haven't even started and here you are all tense."

"Are you going to spend another 5 minutes telling me how tense I am or are you going to do something about it?" You ask him, silently daring him.

He raises an eyebrow. "Tsk, impatient, are we?"

"If you start now, I'll let you do both places," you say, and his eyes light up.

"Okay, but Y/N," he pauses. "If you won't stay still, I'll stop."

It's not an empty threat, knowing Bucky and what happened last time. The pumping in your chest feels unreal, like all this is just a strange dream until you hear the smack of latex against skin, his skin. "Take off your dress."

"Okay," you obediently say as Bucky gently traces your skin, his metal hand stopping to rest on the slope of your hip. "Wait," you rise up a little. "Can I touch it?"

Bucky chuckles. "What do you mean, can you touch it?"

"I need a second to reacquaint myself," you shrug. "Either way, I'm not going to force you to do something you don't want to."

"You're not forcing me to do anything," he says, and you roll your eyes trying not to think of how sweet Bucky's being. He says, accompanied by the sound of a zipper. "Come here, and feel it."

Your hand goes over his thigh to reach it, but your fingers accidentally graze Bucky's instead. Funny how you're bare chested and yet what seem to be insignificant, accidental contact sets your heart ablaze.

"Y/N?!" Steve's voice thunders from across the hallway a few doors down making you and Bucky freeze.

Bucky gets up over to the door, before you can do anything about it. You muffle a frustrated moan into the pillowcase.

"I demand to see her now," Steve exclaims and his eyes fall on Bucky's collarbone and the lack of clothing on his torso. Bucky's only in his star-spangled boxers.

"I don't think she'd like that." You can make out Bucky's hoarse voice. "We're a little busy."

"Bullshit!" The slam of the door. Footsteps. Thudding angrily. The angry burst of his bedroom door. The sound of the door hitting the wall. A gasp. Not yours. Not Bucky's. But Steve's.

"Don't you savages know how to knock?" You sit up, bunching the sheets up to cover your body.

"Well, I don't have to seeing as this is my room," Bucky absentmindedly says as he tosses you his shirt from the edge if the bed.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Y/N, what are you doing here?"

"I think it's pretty obvious," Bucky answers.

"Not another peep from you, Buck," Steve snaps. Bucky scoffs disbelievingly as Steve continues. "Y/N, this is not you."

"It's none of your business," you say, holding Bucky's crisp shirt against your chest.

"This isn't who you are, Y/N," Steve says through gritted teeth.

"Steve..." Bucky starts, but Steve ignores him.

"This is not who you are." Steve's voice is softer than satin, sweeter than the goldenrods that bloom in the spring, but you're worried Steve's gone unhinged. "You're not yourself." It makes you angry.

"Who are you to say that?" Why is he treating you like a child? "What if I like the darkness? What if this is who I am?"

"Don't say that." He takes a step closer to you.

"Why not?" You glare at him, and he almost cowers. "You know you're not so special yourself! You think you're so righteous and pure, what about Tony, huh?"

"Now, you don't want to say anything you'll regret." You can feel the tension in his jaw, his words turning flat.

"Oh trust me, I won't." You say. "I don't do regret."

"What about Tony?" Bucky chimes in, curiosity dancing on his tone in, reminding me all of a sudden that he's been here all along, eyes gleaming with bemusement.

"Stay out of this, Bucky!" Steve snaps.

"You think you're so holy with that tattoo of Tony on your bum?" You continue, regretting the moment after when he sends you an accusatory glance. "Oh so it's okay for you to get ... that! ... but I decide to get a tattoo and you're acting like it's bloody murder?"

"Does Sam know?" Bucky teases.

"It was a drunken dare," Steve says.

"Is that supposed to make it any better?" Bucky asks, and Steve rolls his eyes.

"Bucky this is between me and Y/N," Steve says. "Y/N you absolutely cannot let Bucky tattoo a picture of Groot."

"Why not?"

"Bucky can't draw if his life depended on it," Steve sighs. Bucky clicks his tongue.

"Hey, careful. Someone might actually get offended," he pouts.

"What the hell were you thinking, Buck?" Steve asks in a resigned, defeated tone, no longer angry.

"And put that tattoo gun down before your hurt someone. Most likely yourself."

"She asked me to do it. I didn't twist her arm or anything," Bucky says defensively.

"Is that true?"

"Yes," you draw out the S.

"And you don't want me, the artistic one, to do it, but you want Bucky?"

"That's correct," you nod indignantly.

"Alright, it's your body Y/N," Steve concedes. 1 for Y/N, 0 for Steve.

"Nah, I don't feel like it anymore," you shake your head.

Bucky scoffs at Steve. "Thanks a lot, Cock-block."

"I don't think you're using cock-block correctly."