Marvel X GN Reader - Blog Posts

HEYYYYY.. so like ive become a recent angst addict and like. . Bucky x reader angst?? Maybe they're recently engaged and reader is unsure because of things like not being included in a lot of pivotal moments in his life and that he looks at natalia just a little too long for readers liking?? And just this big dialogue of them two arguing.. and NO comfort at the end, make that shit HURT. He's begging, sobbing and like hiccuping on his knees it's that bad, reader is crying too, but they hand bucky the ring

Man idk i just need more gut wrenching angst rn it evokes such a mmmmmm emotion

MARVEL RIVALS - Bucky's Relationship Troubles

NOTES

I'm literally awful at writing angst and relationships are hard to understand, especially when it comes to jealousy and all that, and I guess both Bucky and Reader are meant to be in the wrong for this one? I don't know, I find his character hard, so... (⁠・⁠_⁠・⁠;⁠)

Btw shameless plug for my DIVA who streams on Twitch link here

The moment that your heart felt so warm and happy tears fell from your eyes finds itself in your brain whenever you laid eyes on him, and it always used to beat so hard every morning after morning that it almost felt like a regular side effect of waking up. It doesn't feel like that anymore, no. But even then, the moment he knelt down on one knee and popped open that ring box replays in your mind every morning, every evening, every night. Ever since it happened, it's been all you could think about.

That's why it became so noticeable when those happy, excited feelings began to sour and churn inside of you, when that warmth burned into a deep, aching jealousy that consumed every single happy memory of yours together. Now, you can't feel happy when you look at him. Because you hardly ever look at him.

You understand he has duties, responsibilities, and he can't just drop them for you at a lazy request, but his actions don't exactly speak 'loyal future husband' to you. The constant missions, which you swear were never this bad, the fact he always spends his time around Natasha, his gaze warm and his tone friendly, it makes you so, so unnecessarily angry. Instead of fluttering butterflies in your stomach, all you find yourself feeling is a pain in your palm from clenching your fist too hard.

Far louder, far more aggressive even, than usual, you tap your foot against the ground. Sat on the couch, your shared couch, from your shared apartment, you feel like a stranger to Bucky. Because he, your soon to be husband, isn't home at the right time. Again.

The paranoia about what could even be happening drives you crazy, your eyes flicking between the clock on the wall, ticking, ticking, always ticking, and the door that never seems to open without your interference. It's never him coming home if you're not there to open the door for him first, only him leaving for days, weeks, months on end.

Doesn't the thought of leaving you eat him up inside of you, too? Doesn't the thought of you all alone make him want to take a damn break, for once? To just lay down, to feel your skin against his, however damn rough and weathered it may be. Or, are you the one in the wrong? The paranoid spouse? The jealous spouse? Overthinking every interaction with any friends he may have, overthinking every second he isn't in your arms?

Maybe you are.

But maybe Bucky isn't the one for you, not if the promise of commitment and marriage won't make him sit next to you for dinner for longer than a week at a time.

When you hear those heavy boots, that weathered sigh, you know that he's home. In a weird way, it makes you feel comfortable, it makes your body relax slightly, but your mind is still racing, even if that itch for him to be in your presence is satiated. Then comes the soft jingling of metal as he slides the apartment key in, turning it right and creaking the door open.

Bucky always looks slightly uncomfortable, and you suppose he has a reason to, even without the trauma of H.Y.D.R.A, he's grown older, he's been through more eras than any human should, and he'll always feel out of place. His shaggy hair falls in front of his face, his tired eyes downcast until they flick up, noticing you. For a moment, for a swift, fleeting moment, you think he looks almost happy.

"You're up late." Bucky comments lightly, his throat rasped as he turns his back to you to shut the door and lock it, pocketing the key afterwards.

"You're out late." You mutter, words almost somber, far meeker than you had meant for them to come out, hardly audible to you over the sound of your racing heartbeat. Is this the day you do it? The day you confront him? You shouldn't be so nervous then. You should be firm in your decision.

In response he lets out a heavy sigh, his back turned to you, his shoulders rising and falling. He knows where this is going. This conversation has happened before, after all. The late night arguments over Natasha, the glares when she calls to inform him of a mission, the unbridled fury you feel whenever she steps foot in your house, it's never been resolved. Only silenced.

"I was on a mission." Bucky says, looking back at you, the mask he wears hiding half of his face, but you know that he's frowning, the slight furrow in his brows gives that way. "I told you about it."

"You told me it would be quick." You firmly say, leaning back on the couch and crossing your arms. He was with Natasha. The beautiful, strong, intelligent woman who you can't help but envy. He was with her. Not you. All night.

"You can't plan these things." He snaps back, turning around fully and taking steps towards you, crossing his own arms. For a moment, you think he'll actually argue back, give a full defense, but instead his eyes soften and he motions towards your phone sat idly on the coffee table. "Are we getting takeout tonight?"

"Are you kidding?" You huff, a smile of disbelief growing on your lips, your nose scrunching as a snarl threatens to unveil itself. "You were out all night with her and you're asking about takeout?"

Immediately, Bucky gives you a look. It's not cold, it's not anger, no, it's more so just disappointment. The two of you have had conversations about this before, what couple hasn't? He spends time with a woman who has fiery red hair and a body to die for, what person wouldn't get jealous? Bucky's always assured you that him and Natasha have never and will never be together, that he doesn't love her, but you're having second thoughts.

"I thought we settled this..." He gruffly murmurs, his brows furrowing as his hand comes up to his nose, pinching the bridge.

"Well, clearly we didn't!" You rise from the couch, planting your feet into the hard wood of your apartment floor, your hands resting on your hips. "I've already had dinner, considering that it's almost one in the morning." Every word is accentuated, pointed, driving home your ever building fury, brows furrowed as your lips curl. It's not his fault, it's not his fault, you're sick of saying that to yourself. Bucky needs to hear what you have to say. "That nice chicken you like? I made it for you tonight, I thought we could've had a date, but instead you spent almost twice as long as you said you would."

Almost yelling now, your voice rising, your face veins burning, he still looks tired. He doesn't look guilty, he doesn't even look sorry. "It's in the microwave." You add, hoping to try and get him to just feel something, to say something.

"I'm sorry, I'm busy, I know. I'm not here as often as I'd- as you'd like, but you knew what you were getting into when we started this relationship. I told you-" Bucky begins, his arm falling to his side as his brown eyes flick up to meet yours, those soft, aching eyes you've always loved to stare into. Today, looking at his eyes just makes you feel sick. Every word, every excuse, it makes your head spin, your hands trembling.

"You didn't tell me you'd spend all day around her and leave me alone!" You blurt out loudly, your voice breaking from the sheer emotion. "You said you'd be busy with work, not with Natasha!"

Bucky's face twists slightly, taken aback at your accusation of cheating. Even if it's not outright, it's pretty obvious what your words mean, and he isn't angry, no, he seems almost like he pities you. The thought only enrages you more. "It's not like that, she's helped me through a lot-"

"And I haven't?" You hiss, his heavy boots thump against the floor as he takes a step closer to you.

"You're not even letting me speak." He sighs, holding out a hand, a peace offering, something you can choose to take.

You don't.

Instead, your own hand comes crashing down onto his, slapping it away.

"So speak. Defend yourself." You cross your arms, winding them tightly around your body as if a shield against anything he could say or do, any protests, any promises, any lies. They won't get to you. Not today. It only takes a moment for you to grow impatient. "Go on!"

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, sucking in a deep breath before he even thinks of speaking, his voice quieter, more hushed. It's as if he's telling you a secret. "In this business, you don't know when your closest allies will die. It's best to either not get attached, or to make damn sure you spend as much time as possible with them. We're not together, we don't have feelings for one another, we never will. Natasha is an ally, a trusted one, but she'll never be you."

His words are almost enough to comfort you. Almost. Fury still burns bright, and you can't help but pick apart every single vowel that tumbles out of his mouth. "She'll never be me but you spend all of your time with her? None with me?" You scoff, shaking your head sharply. "Maybe you'd be better off with Natasha. She's clearly doing something I'm not to make you care about her."

Your words seem to ignite something in Bucky, his eyes sharpening slightly. "I do care about you". He firmly spits out, clenching his metal fist. "Don't try to say I haven't done everything I can for you."

"You evidently haven't!" You throw your hands up in the air exasperatedly, your breaths coming out in short huffs as you try to collect yourself. But, it's impossible when he's standing here, trying to act like he's completely innocent.

Confidence hits you like a semi-truck, and you find yourself finally putting your foot down. "You know what, I can't do this. Get out."

"Excuse me?" He grunts, taken aback.

"You heard me. This is my apartment, I just let you move in. You have the avengers, just go to them." Every word is said like a simple suggestion, almost like you're an amused colleague giving work advice, not a scorned spouse.

"No, you're not kicking me out just because you want to avoid-"

"Get out!" With a sudden burst of energy, you slam both hands forward, trying to push him out of your apartment. It doesn't get him far, and he primarily stumbles from the shock that you'd even push him in the first place, but he realises quickly that you're serious. Dead serious. "Just leave!" And to prove that you are, you do the unthinkable. Fingers grasping the wedding ring around your finger, you slip it off and throw it full force at his chest. It bounces pathetically to the floor.

Bucky seems to be frozen for a moment, his eyes desperate, then cold, then afraid, then angry, then... Hopeless. He seems stuck, alone, unsure, and it takes the clattering of metal for him to be thrust out of that state of mind. "You know what." He mutters, voice a low croak. "Fine." His own hand reaches for his keys, evidently not around the ring on his finger, and he turns around sharply, shoving the key in and twisting it with so much force that you're surprised it doesn't break in two. "I know where I'm not wanted." With one last thump of his boots, the keys land sharply on the ground and the door is slammed shut.

Ok, so I'm in the wrong, I don't know how I messed that up.

I was asking if you could write, How Black Cat from the Playstation Spider Man games would kiss her lover.

MARVELS SPIDER-MAN - Black Cat kissing her gender neutral S/O

Note(s): Don't worry it's alright! I hope I did her justice (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) I also hope you like the little story I added at the end.

Felicia will tend to get more affectionate, if that's even possible, when she wants a kiss from you. It takes her a while of teasing to say it outright of course, it's only in her nature to toy with her food until she's dissatisfied with the length of time it's taking to feast.

She loves to hold your hand, wrap an arm around your waist and kiss your neck first, perhaps give a small bite to your collarbone or wrist, refusing to give even a peck to your lips for what feels like hours.

When you're finally at your wits end, begging and pleading for an ounce of attention to your mouth, that's when she gives you what you both desire the most.

Felicia's kisses are normally very gentle, she treats you like how she treats those precious gemstones that she just loves to steal, grabbing you roughly and snatching you up, yet holding you so far above just a simple object because you're not her possession, she's not your owner, you're her lover, her partner, and it shows when she gives you her sweet, long kisses. She never just kisses your lips, as she could never stick to only loving one part of your body.

She starts at your hands, running up your arm, to your shoulder, neck, then your cheek and your ear, whispering into them her filthy yet somehow sweet words. Only then, and only then, she finally gives you that kiss to your lips. Her eyes flutter closed as they brush against yours, her complete and utter adoration for you is clear as day.

Felicia's hands never leave you, grabbing your hips or waist to keep you still, to have her claws so close to digging into your body, yet never fully doing so, never hurting you, never dreaming of causing you pain, only to hold you.

But when she wants them to be, they can be rough, longer lasting, typically only when she's stressed or feeling more passionate. That's when she uses tongue, pushing you against the wall, her hands attacking your body with her dangerously passionate touches, even squeezing your thighs and hips as harsh as you'll allow to make you squirm with pleasure.

You're painfully aware of how flirty Felicia is, every interaction has her hands wander over every inch of your body and her smooth words dripping over you like honey. Because of that, how well you know her, how well she knows you, it doesn't take either of you too long to realise what exactly she wants.

She eyes you from across the room for a moment, as if a hawk studying a lost mouse, slowly, she approaches, black heels clicking on the ground like a warning. Her hand reaches out to lightly brush against your own, her lips begin to curl into a devious smirk, one she always wears when she's up to something. Felicia leans close and whispers into your ear.

"Your lips, they look so appetising." After she sees you shiver in anticipation Felicia's hand gently runs up your arm, leading to your shoulder. For a moment, and only for a moment, she pauses, only to grab your shoulder and yank you closer.

"Can I have a taste?"