VITALS: Millennial | INFJ | British | South Asian🕉️ | Cancer♋ | Healthcare girl⚕️
BESTIE ALERT: Go give @scoonsalicious all the love—her work is chef’s kiss!
ABOUT ME:
I'm quiet by nature, loud in my head. A little tired, a little tender. I write at night, between shifts and daydreams, usually with tea gone cold beside me. I write mainly for the man with too much past and not enough peace. For the ghost who wants to be held like he’s real. Bucky Barnes found a quiet place in my head and my heart and never left. So I tell stories— for him, and for the softness he deserves.
I love hearing from readers— your thoughts, your feels, your favourite lines. This little corner of the internet is ours, really.
Please note: I will not interact with you if you do not have an age in your bio.
MAIN BLOG: I follow from @skittle479 and often reblog here!
AO3 ACCOUNT: skittle479
MOST RECENT FICS:
☆ Ditch Days and Daffodils - Bucky skips out on his Congress duties to spend his birthday with you in a field full of flowers.
☆ Sertraline Nights - Bucky helps you through difficulties achieving orgasm because of your SSRI and it’s because of him that you have your first orgasm in ages.
☆ Tastes Like Heaven - Bucky's so obsessed with going down on you that he gets off just from the taste and sounds while rutting against the bed.
☆ Bare Instincts - Bucky loses control and takes the condom off mid-sex.
☆ Skittle's Smutlets ☆
☆ Bucky Barnes Long Fics ☆
☆ Bucky Barnes Smut Fics☆
☆ Bucky Barnes Oneshots ☆
☆ Steve Rogers Oneshots ☆
☆ Imagines & Drabbles ☆
☆ Rafael Barba (Law&Order:SVU) Fics ☆
MINORS DNI. This blog is 18+ — please respect that.
WHO I WRITE FOR:
☆ Bucky Barnes
☆ Steve Rogers
WHAT TO EXPECT:
Fluff | Angst | Smut | Comfort — most likely I will write a happy ending (because I’m a sucker for hope, okay?)
WHAT I DON’T WRITE:
No dubcon/noncon | No real people fics | No heavy BDSM | No racism | No explicit sexual abuse/assault
The Winter Soldier held your chin in his metal fingers as you leaned back against his chest. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, his warm breath on your face made your heart race. But you didn’t move. You didn’t dare. His curious hand explored your body, kneading your breasts, grazing the skin on your exposed abdomen, trailing down to your thighs.
“Do you want to try it?”
His voice sounded gravelly. Like he hadn’t spoken in years. Maybe he hadn’t. He was so close to you, his chest pressed against your back. You weren’t bound, you didn’t need to be. But you had no idea how you had ended up in this compromising position, pinned to a bench with your legs spread apart, wound around its wooden legs. It was almost uncomfortable. Almost. You were torn between the vulnerability of your exposure and the thrill of anticipation. He had an air of command and you felt compelled to comply.
“Try… what?”
Your words were choked. There was a rumble in his chest which vibrated through you. The sound was almost ominous, a foreboding if you will, of things to come. A shiver shot down your spine as the feeling of titanium digits was replaced by a cold metal blade pressed against your neck. He dragged it over the fragile skin covering your clavicle, taking with it a fine layer of skin. Not enough to break the barrier but enough that he left a thin red line. You hissed slightly in complaint, ignoring the throbbing in your core.
“Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”
Soldat squeezed your thigh harder in response to your outburst, humming softly as your breath shuddered to keep control of your emotions. You knew what he wanted from you, but you didn’t know the lengths he would go to take it from you. The threat of penetration constantly on your mind. He had already sliced through your shirt and made jagged cuts in your skirt. Now he was working on the strap of your bra, gentle strokes to and fro, snapping frayed threads one at a time. You scrunched closed your eyes waiting for that inevitable release of your breasts to spring free.
“So soft, so pretty.”
His hair brushed your face as he leaned in. His tongue ventured out, licking the redness his blade had created. When he was satisfied by the sighs that emanated from your lips, he latched his mouth to the base of your neck, chapped lips rubbing as they sucked your blood to the surface, marking you with small bruises. He couldn’t get enough of the sweetness of your skin. A strangled moan burst out of you, you’d lost all control of your senses and his bright blue eyes twinkled with excitement.
“You don’t need to hide it. Not from me.”
You had never seen him behave like this, but you had always felt his gaze, long before you found yourself in this situation. The best thing to do would be to get up and walk away. For the sake of your career, for the sake of your safety. But his grip was strong and you felt weak under his power. You had the ability to say no, but your brain refused to allow you to speak. Your body had its own plan, it wanted what the asset was offering. The voice of reason in your mind subdued by the way Soldat’s nose was nuzzling your ear.
“Please!”
What were you begging for? He was ready to comply with your needs. You heard the blade change hands, from flesh to metal. Dragging open your lids, you saw the base of the blade ghost over your entrance. The sound of pleasure huffed from behind you, as his fingers discovered your dripping core. You felt something smooth hard against your folds. His titanium fist gripped the sharp edges as the base of his trusty blade massaged your burning skin and pushed against your sensitive nub. You struggled slightly in his arms, whining and shaking your head. He stopped abruptly.
“No? What is it you really want?”
Winter smirked, casually swiping his thumb against your trembling lips, smearing your arousal across them. The base of the blade played with your walls and you squirmed in his arms, yearning for something more. It was thick, but you could take more. You craved it. You craved him. So you turned your head and for the first time with conviction and clarity, you gave him his answer.
You shifted subtly under the sheets, tugging the duvet higher over your shoulders. It wasn’t because you were cold. Nope, that wasn’t it at all. Bucky was propped up beside you, on his vibranium elbow, watching you with his usual quiet intensity. It was like he saw something you didn’t.
There was a dim glow from your bedside lamp, having turned it down to its lowest setting. But for some reason you couldn’t stop the thoughts swirling in your brain. The way your stomach dipped out when you lay on your side. The curvaceous shape of your thighs. The red stretch marks which traced along your hips. The faded whispers of past versions of your body, muttering in your mind.
His gaze made you feel exposed. Ashamed. It didn’t matter that he had seen you like this a hundred times over. Your hand tightened against the sheets, shifting away ever so slightly. Had he noticed? But of course. And he wasn’t about to let things slide. His voice soft, gentle and low.
“Doll? What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?”
You shook your head, forcing a smile onto your face.
“S’nothing, Buck.”
Bucky hummed, but you could tell from the tone he was unconvinced. He reached out. The tips of his vibranium fingers felt cool as they skimmed across your arm, trailing down to your wrist. He wrapped his fingers around it and with a gentle firmness, he pried your fingers off the material of the duvet cover. He knew exactly how to unravel you and your secrets as he murmured in your ear
“C’mon, don’t do that. Don’t hide from me, doll.”
You hesitated. Admitting what happened only made it more real. But you knew Bucky. He didn’t let things go. Not when he knew something was off. You released the breath you were holding, shaky and unsteady.
“I just… I guess I don’t feel great about myself right now.”
Bucky's eyebrows looked like they were knitted together as he frowned. A pained flicker in his eyes.
“What?”
You shrugged, avoiding his gaze.
“I just… I don’t look like—”
You stopped yourself before the words left your mouth. Before you could compare yourself to someone else, someone slimmer, or smoother, or whatever version of ‘better’ your mind decided you should be. You heard the soft exhale from Bucky’s nose, just before you felt him move.
One moment he was lying beside you. The next he was hovering over you, pressing you into the mattress with the entirely of his weight. His warm hand cupped your jaw, his thumb slowly tracing over the curve of your cheek. His vibranium fingers slid onto your hip, curling around your soft flesh.
“You listen to me. There is nothing— absolutely nothing— I’d change about you.”
Your throat tightened. You didn’t want to cry, but the way he looked at you made it impossible not to.
“Buck—”
But he cut you off gently, dipping his head so his lips ghosted over yours.
“No, I mean it.”
His lips found your neck, pressing slow, warm reverent kisses along your skin. He followed the curve of your shoulder, down along the gentle swell of your breast, glancing up at you as he paused just above your heart.
“You know how many times this heart kept you goin’? Kept me goin’? How strong you are?”
You bit your lip and whimpered, but Bucky was already moving lower. His hands skated down your sides, ignoring the way your body tensed as they grazed over the soft flesh around your waist. He kissed the bump of your stomach, his stubble scratching delightfully over your skin.
“And this? You think I don’t love every part of you? Every mark, every inch?”
You whimpered as his lips ghosted over your stretch marks, his tongue flicking against the softest parts of you. His hands held you firmly as you started to squirm.
“Bucky—”
He hummed over the sound of your protests, dragging his lips along the inner part of your thigh. His hands firm, and grounding.
“I want you to feel it. Not just hear it. Feel how much I want you. How fuckin’ perfect you are to me.”
Suddenly his mouth was between your legs. The way his tongue flicked, teases, tasted you. Fuck— it made you forget how to breathe. Instinctively, your fingers carded through his hair, back arching as he worked on opening you up. Movements slow and deliberate, he groaned, lapping at your folds like a man starved.
“You’re so goddamn sweet. Gonna stay here all night.”
You whimpered, thighs trembling. But Bucky just chuckled, licking a stripe up your core before sucking gently at your clit. You cried out.
“Feel good, sweetheart?”
“Y-yeah. Feels— fuck, Bucky—”
His grip on your hips tightened, keeping you steady as he pushed you closer to the edge with his mouth, his hands, his fucking devotion. That’s when you feel. Fell hard. Your body tensing, then shuddering as pleasure crashes over you in waves. Bucky groaned, drinking it in, drinking you in. And he didn’t stop there. Not until you were panting, whining, begging for him to come up and kiss you.
He didn’t make you wait. His lips pressed against yours as he pressed into you. His cock stretched you open in a way that felt like home. He gripped your thigh, hiking it up around his waist to let him sink deeper, forehead pressed against yours.
“Goddamn. You feel so good, doll.”
You moaned. Hips rolled up to meet his thrusts as he started to move. He filled you like no one ever had. He was made for you. And it made your breath stutter. His fingers laced through yours, pinning them against the mattress above your head. And just like that you were already on the edge again.
“You’re beautiful. So fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart.”
You shook your head, but Bucky growled, snapping his hips just enough to make your eyes roll back.
“You are. And I’m gonna make you feel it.”
And he did. His movements were purposeful. Hitting deep. Dragging you through another peak. Then another. Higher. Never letting you go. Never letting you doubt. Not for a single second. Proving how much he wanted you. How much he loved you.
By the time you both come undone, breathless and tangled together, he’s still whispering against your skin, pressing soft kisses wherever he can reach.
“Mine. Every inch of you.”
You were too spent to argue. Too wrecked to do anything but believe him. And God, if it didn’t feel good to believe him.
FRIENDS. READERS. BUCKY-COUNTRYMEN. We have had such a fantastic time the last two months writing and posting drabbles for you. We started with fifteen amazing anonymous authors, all of whom rose to the challenge we set of sticking to 100 words exactly, week in and week out, through drabble prompts silly and strange.
But now we're at the end, and it's time to reveal which author has won themselves a shiny new Cyrofreeze, and who wins the fabulous and coveted Winner's badge!
The winner of the last of our Cryofreezes--a fully air-conditioned, comfort-controlled chamber with WiFi, contoured seating, all the entertainment media at your fingertips, and preferred access to the all-you-can-eat omelet bar--is:
@societyfolklore, author of Written Between Hearts
Society, we are so glad you joined us for yet another WiaC Event! All of your drabbles have delighted and thrilled us, and it was an absolute pleasure having you amongst our number! We hope you love the privacy and quiet of your very own Cryofreeze, where you can remain until our next event.
And now, the announcement you've all been waiting for: the winner of the coveted WiaC winner badge... now a two-time winner of WiaC events....
@mrsbuckybarnes1917, author of Blazing
Skittle, our darling, our dearest, our delight! You have written us nine drabbles of absolute perfection, and we have loved every single word beyond measure. We are so glad you entered the challenge again, and we hope you enjoy the coveted WiaC Winner Badge below:
Badge made by @buckybarnesfic
Friends, it has been an absolute pleasure. We hope you enjoyed our Drabble Event, and that you've gained new (or renewed) appreciation for this 100-word craft.
We plan to return in September with an announcement for our Holiday Challenge (which we are currently planning for October through December). Until then, we hope you find reading material to inspire you, and prompts to enjoy writing!
Oh wow, I'm super chuffed. Honestly didn't think I'd get very far at all when I did this. It was a lot of fun, got to write things I didn't expect to write about. Thanks for playing with me. Hope everyone had fun too!
You shifted subtly under the sheets, tugging the duvet higher over your shoulders. It wasn’t because you were cold. Nope, that wasn’t it at all. Bucky was propped up beside you, on his vibranium elbow, watching you with his usual quiet intensity. It was like he saw something you didn’t.
There was a dim glow from your bedside lamp, having turned it down to its lowest setting. But for some reason you couldn’t stop the thoughts swirling in your brain. The way your stomach dipped out when you lay on your side. The curvaceous shape of your thighs. The red stretch marks which traced along your hips. The faded whispers of past versions of your body, muttering in your mind.
His gaze made you feel exposed. Ashamed. It didn’t matter that he had seen you like this a hundred times over. Your hand tightened against the sheets, shifting away ever so slightly. Had he noticed? But of course. And he wasn’t about to let things slide. His voice soft, gentle and low.
“Doll? What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?”
You shook your head, forcing a smile onto your face.
“S’nothing, Buck.”
Bucky hummed, but you could tell from the tone he was unconvinced. He reached out. The tips of his vibranium fingers felt cool as they skimmed across your arm, trailing down to your wrist. He wrapped his fingers around it and with a gentle firmness, he pried your fingers off the material of the duvet cover. He knew exactly how to unravel you and your secrets as he murmured in your ear
“C’mon, don’t do that. Don’t hide from me, doll.”
You hesitated. Admitting what happened only made it more real. But you knew Bucky. He didn’t let things go. Not when he knew something was off. You released the breath you were holding, shaky and unsteady.
“I just… I guess I don’t feel great about myself right now.”
Bucky's eyebrows looked like they were knitted together as he frowned. A pained flicker in his eyes.
“What?”
You shrugged, avoiding his gaze.
“I just… I don’t look like—”
You stopped yourself before the words left your mouth. Before you could compare yourself to someone else, someone slimmer, or smoother, or whatever version of ‘better’ your mind decided you should be. You heard the soft exhale from Bucky’s nose, just before you felt him move.
One moment he was lying beside you. The next he was hovering over you, pressing you into the mattress with the entirely of his weight. His warm hand cupped your jaw, his thumb slowly tracing over the curve of your cheek. His vibranium fingers slid onto your hip, curling around your soft flesh.
“You listen to me. There is nothing— absolutely nothing— I’d change about you.”
Your throat tightened. You didn’t want to cry, but the way he looked at you made it impossible not to.
“Buck—”
But he cut you off gently, dipping his head so his lips ghosted over yours.
“No, I mean it.”
His lips found your neck, pressing slow, warm reverent kisses along your skin. He followed the curve of your shoulder, down along the gentle swell of your breast, glancing up at you as he paused just above your heart.
“You know how many times this heart kept you goin’? Kept me goin’? How strong you are?”
You bit your lip and whimpered, but Bucky was already moving lower. His hands skated down your sides, ignoring the way your body tensed as they grazed over the soft flesh around your waist. He kissed the bump of your stomach, his stubble scratching delightfully over your skin.
“And this? You think I don’t love every part of you? Every mark, every inch?”
You whimpered as his lips ghosted over your stretch marks, his tongue flicking against the softest parts of you. His hands held you firmly as you started to squirm.
“Bucky—”
He hummed over the sound of your protests, dragging his lips along the inner part of your thigh. His hands firm, and grounding.
“I want you to feel it. Not just hear it. Feel how much I want you. How fuckin’ perfect you are to me.”
Suddenly his mouth was between your legs. The way his tongue flicked, teases, tasted you. Fuck— it made you forget how to breathe. Instinctively, your fingers carded through his hair, back arching as he worked on opening you up. Movements slow and deliberate, he groaned, lapping at your folds like a man starved.
“You’re so goddamn sweet. Gonna stay here all night.”
You whimpered, thighs trembling. But Bucky just chuckled, licking a stripe up your core before sucking gently at your clit. You cried out.
“Feel good, sweetheart?”
“Y-yeah. Feels— fuck, Bucky—”
His grip on your hips tightened, keeping you steady as he pushed you closer to the edge with his mouth, his hands, his fucking devotion. That’s when you feel. Fell hard. Your body tensing, then shuddering as pleasure crashes over you in waves. Bucky groaned, drinking it in, drinking you in. And he didn’t stop there. Not until you were panting, whining, begging for him to come up and kiss you.
He didn’t make you wait. His lips pressed against yours as he pressed into you. His cock stretched you open in a way that felt like home. He gripped your thigh, hiking it up around his waist to let him sink deeper, forehead pressed against yours.
“Goddamn. You feel so good, doll.”
You moaned. Hips rolled up to meet his thrusts as he started to move. He filled you like no one ever had. He was made for you. And it made your breath stutter. His fingers laced through yours, pinning them against the mattress above your head. And just like that you were already on the edge again.
“You’re beautiful. So fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart.”
You shook your head, but Bucky growled, snapping his hips just enough to make your eyes roll back.
“You are. And I’m gonna make you feel it.”
And he did. His movements were purposeful. Hitting deep. Dragging you through another peak. Then another. Higher. Never letting you go. Never letting you doubt. Not for a single second. Proving how much he wanted you. How much he loved you.
By the time you both come undone, breathless and tangled together, he’s still whispering against your skin, pressing soft kisses wherever he can reach.
“Mine. Every inch of you.”
You were too spent to argue. Too wrecked to do anything but believe him. And God, if it didn’t feel good to believe him.
Somehow it always ended here— in a dimly-lit motel room that always smelled of stale cigarettes. The typical neon sign outside flickered outside the window, casting a purple glow on the tatty furniture in the room and made you feel like everything belonged in a seedy noir film.
But these things had never bothered you. You were an easy-going person. At least you used to be. That changed the moment you met Bucky Barnes. And in this very moment, you were busy trying not to strangle said super soldier.
“You’re such a… fucking asshole, Barnes.”
Your tone was sharp, shaking with barely concealed anger that had been building inside you ever since the mission had gone to hell.
The half scoff, half laugh that Bucky let out as he shrugged off his leather jacket grated on your nerves. Worsened by the careless way he let the offending item drop so carelessly on a rickety chair in the corner of the room.
“And you're a pain in my ass, sweetheart.”
His words had your fingers curling into fists. The mission had been just fine, at least it was until Bucky fucking Barnes decided to play hero. Ignoring your plan, he’d gone rogue and almost gotten you both killed in the process. And for what? Because he thought he knew better? Because he didn’t trust you to handle yourself?
You’d spent the last three hours in seething silence, sitting beside him in the passenger seat as he drove to the safe house. The car filled with his brooding confidence and zero remorse for his actions. Now you were forced to share this shitty room thanks to your botched escape plan and seeing one bed in front of you made you snap.
“Don't fucking call me that.”
His smirk drove you crazy.
“What? Sweetheart?”
Your entire body bristled with fury and you stepped closer to him, jabbing your fingers into his chest.
“You just had to play the hero. Couldn’t just stick to the plan— my plan. No, Bucky fucking Barnes has to do things his way. Has to make everything more difficult than it needs to be!”
Bucky rolled his eyes and scoffed.
“Oh, give me a break.”
You were almost screaming now, the pitch of your voice rising with your rage.
“Give you a—? You almost got us killed!”
“And yet, here we are. Alive. Safe… You’re welcome, by the way.”
He made your skin burn.
“You're insufferable!”
The words ripped out of you before you could stop them. You shoved at his chest as he stepped cockily in front of you. Your push barely made him budge, but this expression did. Something dark flashed across his eyes.
“You done, or you wanna stomp your feet, too?”
Something inside you twisted, the anger you recognized, but there was something else— something dangerous.
“Fuck you, Barnes!”
As you turned away, his vibranium palm wrapped around your wrist. And before you could pull free, he yanked you in, your bodies colliding. A searing heat was radiating through his clothes as he spoke, his voice was rough.
“Say that again.”
You jerked against his grip, teeth clenched.
“Fuck. You.”
Bucky’s laugh was low, almost sinister and he leaned in so close that his breath ghosted over your lips.
“You wish, sweetheart.”
Something inside you snapped. You weren’t thinking and before your mind caught up with your body, your fingers had curled around the front of his t-shirt, yanking him down, your mouth crashed against his. He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulled your body flush into his. The kiss was rough— teeth clashing, lips biting— neither of you were willing to surrender.
“Fucking knew you wanted me.”
He was breathless and smug, muttering taunts against your lips.
“Shut up.”
You bit down on his bottom lip hard enough for him to growl. Without warning, you were against the wall, his hands roaming over your body— greedy and anything but gentle. He clutched your waist before sliding his hand around to squeeze your ass. He lifted you off the floor with ease, slotting himself between your legs so you could feel his hard on through his jeans. He rolled his hips tantalizingly.
“That all you got?”
Your nails dug into his shoulders.
“You really wanna test me, Barnes?”
Metal digits skimmed your thigh, holding you in place as he kissed a bruising path along your jaw and down your throat. His teeth scraped against your sensitive skin, tongue following to soothe the sting. You couldn’t control the whimper that left your lips, making him chuckle, his breath hot against your skin.
“Not so mouthy now, huh?”
“Ugh, asshole.”
Despite your words, you tilted your head to give him better access. He nipped at your neck, just below your ear.
“And yet, you're grinding against me like you need me.”
You hated how good he was at this. How he made heat flood through you and pool between your legs. You shuddered involuntarily. Angrily, you slid your fingers into his hair, yanking his head back to bite the side of his jaw.
“Still hate you.”
“Yeah? Then why are you so wet for me?”
Another whimper from you.
His fucking smirk.
His hands roamed lower— teasing, testing. Finally dipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.
“You're insufferable.”
Your breath caught as he pushed your legs further apart. The pressure was exactly where you needed it.
“And you're fucking perfect.”
His words made your mind go blank. Long enough that you were lying flat on your back when you came back to yourself. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist while you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him closer. His lips were back on yours— hungry and demanding. You yanked at his belt, growling.
“Shut the fuck up and fuck me.”
His laugh was somehow both dark and delighted.
“Goddamn brat.”
“You love it.”
He ripped open your shirt, his forehead pressed against yours, gaze both dangerous and desperate.
Sergeant James Bucky Barnes— a man who had faced down the horrors of war, stared down death more times than he could count— but absolutely nothing… nothing… had ever left him as breathless as the sight of you kneeling between his legs.
“Doll…”
His voice already sounded hoarse. Every breath was ragged and rough. Each one laced with the intimacy he craved from you. His composure was wavering. Betrayed only by the way his fingers twitched where they were resting on the arms of his chair. He was clearly torn between the instinct to grab your hair or to wrap his hands around the sturdy wooden handles for purchase. In fact, he wondered in sheer disbelief if this was happening for him at all.
You looked up at him. All sweet and doe-eyed. But Bucky knew better than to trust your innocent features. The way your thumbs traced slow circles through the fabric of his uniform gave away the impurity of your intentions. A dim lamp lit the empty barracks, casting a soft shadow across your face. It revealed a small smirk curling at one corner of your luscious lips. Your words were teasing as your fingers slipped up to undo his belt with practiced ease.
“Just relax, Sergeant. Let me take care of you.”
The sharp breath Bucky sucked in between his lips was involuntary, as you freed him from his briefs. His cock was already heavy in your palm. Flushed and leaking at the tip. You knew exactly how to get him worked up and it hadn't taken long for his arousal to overcome him. His body now trembled with barely concealed restraint. But you.. Hell, you looked like you were savoring every damn second of this.
“You're too good to me.”
His voice rasped as he watched you pressing a slow kiss to the underside of his cock. The deliberate movements of your lips were a testament to how well you knew his body.
“Jesus, sweetheart, you—”
His words cut off into a choked groan when your tongue flicked over the head. You collected the bead of precum like he was something worth savoring. The way you hummed against him was titillating. Clearly pleased by the way his thighs tensed under the ministrations of your hands. The way your voice murmured to him was sweet as sin.
“You’ve been so good to me, Sarge. Let me make you feel good. Let me worship this beautiful thick cock.”
Bucky had never met anyone like you before. No one had made him feel this way before. The instant molten heat that pooled in the pit of his stomach whenever you were around was unparalleled. The ache twisted around his spine and made his toes curl. He had been with his fair share of women… sure, but no one had ever looked up at him like this. Like he was something precious, something to be revered and adored.
God, you were going to be his undoing. Making things so much worse as you took him into your mouth. Inch by inch. Your tongue glided against his length. It was like you had been made just for him. His hands curled into fists, gripping the sides of the chair in a desperate attempt to keep from thrusting up into your warm throat.
“Christ. You— God, doll, you feel like heaven.”
You moaned around him as he spoke, the vibrations from your mouth sent sparks of pleasure up his spine, and he nearly lost his goddamn mind. He panted, his chest rising and falling in uneven bursts.
“Look at you, doll. So pretty with your mouth on me. So perfect. You—”
His voice broke off as you hollowed out your cheeks, the suction from your lips making his vision blur momentarily.
“Fuck, you’re perfect, doll. My perfect angel.”
Your nails dug into his thighs. Grounding him. But he knew he wouldn’t last. Not with you like this. Not with the way your tongue lapped at him. The way your lips stretched around his throbbing cock. The way you moaned like you were the one being pleasured.
“Sweetheart, I—”
His warning was strained… desperate. But you didn’t pull away. No. Instead you held his gaze, your lashes fluttering as you let him fall apart right there. All over your tongue.
Bucky groaned your name as he came. It sounded like a prayer on his lips. Finally, he let himself bury his hands in your hair as he spilled down your throat. He shuddered as you swallowed around him. You let him ride out his orgasm until he was a trembling mess. Wrecked and ruined beneath your simple touch.
As you eventually pulled away, wiping the corner of your mouth with a satisfied little smile, Bucky could have sworn he saw stars. Made worse by your honeyed and mischievous words.
“Well… that wasn’t so bad, now was it, Sergeant?"
Bucky let out a breathless laugh. He dragged you up into his lap, hands securely around your waist as he kissed you deeply. Moaning as he tasted himself on your lips.
“Doll… that was the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.”
You grinned at his response, your fingers trailing teasingly over the pulsing vein on the side of his neck. His face was still flushed and you revelled in the way he still shuddered under your touch.
“Looks like I might just have to do that again sometime. You look so pretty when you come undone for me.”
Bucky groaned, before burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“Doll, you keep talkin' like that, and I ain't ever lettin' you outta this room.”
But judging by the way you pressed yourself closer to him, he knew you definitely weren't finished with him just yet.
Stark parties were always extravagant affairs. Black ties and cocktail dresses. Everyone was decked out to the nines. Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off your sultry dress. The way it clung to your curves, accentuating every dip and swell. The shiny red material sparkled as you moved, swinging your hips to the beat of the tune that was playing. You had begged him to join you, fingers hooked into his belt loops as you urged him forwards. But Bucky was a soldier, trained to resist temptation. So, with determination, you stepped onto the dance floor, a solitary figure bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lights.
“You go ahead, I'll watch.”
Bucky’s gaze traced the delicate line of your collarbones, the gentle curve of your waist. The crimson hue of the dress set his loins on fire, igniting a longing he hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t just the color, it was the way it whispered secrets against your skin. You were a vision. And oh, how you moved. Fluid, like water coursing through a hidden stream. As the music swirled around you, you moved with grace, lost in the rhythm. The halter neck of the dress revealed just enough - the elegant slope of your shoulders, the arch of your back, the skin of your thighs.
Bucky clenched his fists, torn between the desire to join you versus the desire to carry you out of the building over his shoulder. He shoved his hands in his pockets, to hide his agitation. The last thing he needed was for Steve or Sam to come over and fuss over him. But the action didn’t bring about the result he expected. There was something unexpected as he slipped his hand into the concealed compartment of his pants. Bucky’s fingers closed around the silky material and he pulled out a lacy black thong.
He stroked his thumb over the skimpy piece of lingerie, noting that it felt slightly damp. In a swift movement, he closed the item into his fist and brought it up to his nose, taking a whiff of your unique scent. Bucky felt a heat rise inside him and he felt his cock twitch dangerously. How dare you tease him?
You could feel his eyes on you. Almost like a sixth sense. You knew he had discovered the little gift you had left him. He beckoned you with the smallest gesture. You smiled, sauntering over.
“What do you think you're doing? Anyone could have seen this! What do you have to say for yourself?”
Bucky hissed in your ear, your underwear now in his metal fist. Never had he met another person who knew how to push his buttons. Your pokes and prods were so aptly timed and precisely calculated. When he was feeling sad, mad, excited or turned on. It was you - you held all the answers he had been seeking. The warmth of companionship, the thrill of surrender to his carnal urges. Wherever you led, he would follow.
“Where you going, Doll? Do you have any idea what you do to me? Dressed in this scrap of a dress? Is this turning you on? Teasing me with this? Getting me hard? Denying me the pleasure of ripping these off your pretty little pussy?”
A plant. Multiple large pots filled with bamboo shoots. Dense enough to hide two people. That is where he found himself. His hands all over you, on your waist, behind your neck, under the hem of your short skirt, between your soaked and uncovered folds. The candles that adorned the walls flickered and threatened to reveal your hideaway.
“Your cunt feels so good. Dripping for me already, Doll? And I haven't even let you get a taste of my cock yet. Want me to rub your clit, darling?”
Your whines were getting louder and louder. They had the potential to attract attention, despite the thumping music. Bucky spun you around, clamping a vibranium hand over your sinful mouth, keeping his flesh one nestled comfortably over your sensitive nub.
“My my, such a needy little thing, aren't we? Trying to get me all worked up by leaving your panties in my pocket? Well, darling, it worked. I'm going to fuck you right here, behind this plant. And unless you want to get caught, you're going to take it without making a sound. Got that, Doll?”
Bucky unzipped his pants. The fear of being seen suppressed by the flame of desire that engulfed him. He didn't hesitate in thrusting into you, reveling in the way your walls hugged him in the perfect way. He could hear his name tumbling from your lips, the sound vibrating through the metal. It didn't take long for him to spill his hot seed into your clenching cunt, as it begged for its own release. Bucky pulled out his cock as soon as he was done, pressing your thighs together as you moaned with frustration at being denied your climax.
“Now, now, darling. What did I say about making noise, huh? You don't get to cum until I say you do. Getting me all good and riled up at this stupid party. You'll have to suffer the consequences.”
You held out your hand for him to return your panties. But instead you were met with a devilish grin as Bucky stuffed them back into his pocket.
“No, Doll. These are mine. You’re coming home with me and I had better not see any mess spilling down your legs, or you'll be sorry you ever gave me these.”
An hour! He had been at it for an hour. It felt like an eternity. But Bucky was a patient man. He knew the value of fortitude. The value of tenacity. So much so that your pleas might as well have fallen on deaf ears. His touch made you melt, regardless of the situation, but when he was trying, you were his to mold. You were putty in his hands. He knew your body like his own, the things you liked, the things you loved, the things that drove you crazy. His own body responded to yours. But when this mood came over him, nothing else could distract him from his plans.
“Keep your eyes on me, Doll. You’re doing so well.”
You were bare before him, just how he liked you. Every part of you accessible to his eager needs. He found himself between your legs, grinding against your core. It didn’t take long for you to turn into a squirming mess as he rutted against you. You were so close when he bent forwards to capture your nipple between his lush pink lips, making your hips stutter, losing your rhythm and breaking the tension in your tightly wound coil.
“I thought I taught you better than this, Doll? Such a needy little princess.”
He was possessive. No one got to touch you but him. You weren’t even allowed to please yourself when he got like this. You belonged to him and him alone. Bucky was a tactile person. He liked to feel. You in particular. With his fingers, with his tongue, with his cock. He was addicted. To the softness of your skin, the plumpness of your lips, to the firmness of your ass and breasts. You offered him a level of trust like no one had before. And he liked the control. He loved the way you responded to his touch. The sounds you made. The way you looked when he was inside you.
“Don’t hold back, Doll. Show me how much you need me.”
Not that he always showed the same restraint when it came to his own needs. His pants were around his ankles without hesitation. Stroking his swollen member as he stood between your spread legs. He gazed longingly at your glistening cunt. Teasing himself with the arousal that coated your folds. Mixing his juices with yours. Maybe he would allow you one taste, just to see how well your essences complimented each other. He would have you hooked on the cocktail of your desires. Your hips bucked longingly as he pushed into you.
“Can’t get enough, can you, Doll? Can’t get enough of my thick cock deep inside you?”
The devilish grin that painted his face told you he meant to only tease you. Give you but a taste of his talents. The ridges of his cock stroked your sheath, stretching your walls, but leaving you just short of a release. Of course, this didn’t stop him. He tilted himself away from your most sensitive spot, leaving you begging him mercilessly. He spilled his scorching white seed into you. His throbbing shaft pulsed inside, filling you to the brim. You were so close when he pulled out of you. Bucky gathered his cum leaking from your cunt and pushed it back into you. Your moans imploring your release.
“Louder, baby. Let me hear you. Does that feel good?”
Bucky chuckled at your frustration. The denial, the control. He got off on it. He kneeled down between your legs, his face inches away from where you wanted it most. He blew softly against your cum-filled pussy. Making your clit tingle with anticipation. He spread your folds, amused by the eager thrusts of your hips, meeting nothing but air. He taunted you, dangling your release in front of you like a proverbial carrot.
“Do you want my fingers or my tongue?”
He didn't give you a chance to answer as he licked a stripe up from your hole, tasting you. Reveling in the whimpers falling off your lips.
“You taste so good. I will never get enough of you.”
He hummed his approval, licking his lips. He tried again, tongue making contact with your clit. Again and again. Faster and faster. Until you were pleading with him.
“Just hold on for me, Doll. Just a little longer.”
His voice was soft but filled with authority. You would do as you were told. Bucky's lips circled your clit, sucking roughly. Making you scream from the sensitivity and pleasure. You thrust into his mouth, grinding at the same pace as he put more pressure on your swollen nub.
“Count to ten for me, Doll. Nice and slow. Then you get to cum. Understand?”
You squeezed your eyes shut, nodding, willing your mind to focus.
“But remember, Doll, any signs of you trying to cum before that, and you're going to be sorry.”
You took a deep breath and spoke. One. Your hands made fists into the bedsheets in your effort to stay sane. Two. His nose brushed your clit as his tongue pushed into your cunt. Three. Bucky hummed, the vibrations his voice sent into you almost had you losing control. Barely holding on to your sense of control, you took another step. Four. He took his vibranium hand off your thigh and used it to spread your folds. Five.
“That's my good girl, just a little more. Just hang in there and I'm going to make you feel so good.”
Six. You muffled a sob against your fist. Seven. He was licking every inch of you. Eight. Your back arched as he pushed his fingers inside you. Nine. They grazed your sweet spot, testing the boundaries of your climax. Ten!
“Cum for me, Doll!”
You shook from the pleasure, eyes rolling back. There were fireworks. Bucky held you, supported you, helped ride out your orgasm. You lay limp in his arms, spent from the effort, basking in the exhilaration. Bucky smiled down at you.
The first time he slid into you, it felt wonderful. Like a taste of heaven. He took his time, sliding his cock over your slick folds, covering himself in your juices. By the time his member was lined up at your entrance, you were begging him to fill you up. Except you had no idea how literally he would take your request.
“Feels so good inside you, Doll. Look at you, look how you take me so well. Looking so pretty with my cock in you.”
He filled you, inch by inch until his tip was kissing your cervix. You saw stars exploding behind the darkness of your closed eyes. Bucky had the decency to let you adjust to his size before he set his pace. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass when one word left your lips. Daddy.
“Want to be a mommy? Huh, Doll? Have my babies? Is that what you want?”
His brilliant blue eyes bore into yours. Sweat dripped down his face. Steady streams across his chest and back. Bucky towered over you. Panting. Groaning. He was relentless. The way he handled you, the ease with which he flipped you from one position to another was painfully delicious.
“You're going to look beautiful, carrying my baby in that pretty belly. So big and round and gorgeous. I can't wait to feel how full your tits are going to be. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Doll?”
He knew you loved it. He loved it too. The way your blown out pupils rolled backwards. The way you whined his name. The way you are totally drunk on his cock. Bucky loved you like this. The way your dainty ankles fit so perfectly on his broad shoulders. He barely had to hold you there. It left him free to touch all the sensitive parts of you. To push all the buttons that made you moan. Every now and then, when he wanted to tease you, he turned his head to one side to tickle your feet with his tongue.
“You like that, Doll? You like that I want to knock you up? You'd be so pretty carrying my kids. I'm going to put one in this precious pussy. Right now, I'm going to cum. Just one more time, just to make sure.”
He came. More than once. It made you wonder how he was still hard. Was it because you begged for it? What was it about that last ‘pleeeease’ that finally tipped him over the edge? Was it because of the attention, the focus, the intensity with which you watched him disappearing inside of you? Was it all of these things that finally made his groans stutter, his thrusts dwindle? No, it was all of you. It was you that made him spill his thick hot load into your puffed up pussy.
“Oh Doll, look at you, you're milking my cock so fucking well. Want me to fill you up? Want me to stuff you, til you're so fucking full that you can't hold it in?
Metal digits circled your clit, throwing you over the edge. Your climax coincided with his, your aching cunt pulsing steadily around him. Milking his seed. Filling you to the brim. Breeding you to the fullest. He pulled out of you and winked at you, keeping your feet up in the air.
Bucky had been at it for hours. Taunting you. Teasing you. Tantalizing. Tormenting. His fingers, be it flesh or vibranium, tickled your skin with the tiniest of pressures. Enough to get your blood pumping. The pulps of his calloused digits pushed into your skin, kneading, fondling, massaging every inch of your body. He knew exactly how to read you, how to arouse you. From the feather light brushes against your abdomen to the deep pressure on your thighs.
“Look how beautiful you are.”
He hushed your pleading whines and kissed away your petulant pouts. He reassured you that he simply wanted to take his time. But his eyes told a different story. The determined glint in those beautiful blues told you that he had a plan.
“Let me take care of you.”
The way he moved was exquisite, smooth, like fluid. Bucky’s ministrations were so distracting that you only realized he was undressing you when your tank top caught the tip of your nose. He apologized, nuzzling you, peppering kisses over the offended organ. He never failed to make you feel loved, even when he was planning on doing the dirtiest things to you.
“I love you like this.”
Exposed. Fully. Stripped bare of every thread that covered your form. That’s how he liked it. Bucky loved having access to each and every part of you. He worked on all your sensitive areas, intimately familiar with how your nipples responded to his touch. Under his attention, they had the ability to grow as tall as mountains and as hard as diamonds. He chuckled darkly as you writhed with pleasure beneath him.
"Just like that, Doll?"
You nodded, your mind lost in the moment. His lips left marks as worked on your skin. He was the artist and you were his canvas, ready to be molded to his pleasing. There were no limits to his abilities to draw out your beauty.
“I will coax every gasp, every moan, every noise I can get out of you.”
He didn't waste time in making good on his assurances. Bucky put his talented tongue to use, licking thick stripes over your folds. It left you crying out for more, only for him to oblige. His lips formed a circle around your clit, which he gave a warning lick before applying the perfect amount of pressure to make you scream. Bucky watched out of the top corners of his eyes as you arched your back and clutched at the bedsheets.
“I'm here. I'm right here. Hold onto me.”
Next he introduced you to his fingers, smooth and cold but once they were coated in your slick arousal, they slid in and out of your sheath with ease. Bucky felt you stretch as he pushed in and out, caressing your walls with his dark and golden digits. He was an expert in finding that special place where you were most sensitive and made the most of his talents. Brushing against you with the most erotic pace. His lips pressed against the top of your head.
“Wish I could fuck you right now. I want you to sit on my cock, be so deep inside you until you’re screaming for everyone to hear… ‘til you forget who you are and all you can think about is how good I make you feel. But that’s not the plan. I want to make you squirt all over my pants and ruin them.”
You gasped at his words. He let the pressure build within you at an agonizingly slow pace. Every movement elicited its own special sound from you, he played your body like an instrument to the tune of a symphony of his desires. Everyone of these notes rang with the melody of your pleasure.
“Are you going to give me what I want, Doll? Are you going to come for me?”
Bucky murmured as he continued to bring you closer to your climax. An old familiar feeling coiled inside of you, ready to be released at any moment. He pulled your hips into his lap, looking hungrily at your sex, like he could devour you right there. But he had a plan and he was going to follow through. He licked his flesh fingers and pressed them against your swollen nub. Rubbing perfect circles to drive you over the edge. You squeezed your eyes shut as your walls clenched around him. Waves of ecstasy rolling through your body. Back arched. Toes curled. Heart pounded. Bucky's plan came to fruition as your sweet juices poured out around his fingers.
“That's my girl. You did such a good job for me. Just look at this mess you've made. All for me.”
He smiled down at you, looking proud of his pretty princess.
Bucky wasn’t sure if it was his memory or just his imagination, but he always found you intriguing. He was sure that you would be able to entertain him for hours on end, even though the chances that you would talk to him were pretty bleak. Steve was the only one who had noticed and Bucky was glad that he had kept his comments to himself, even when he had caught Bucky’s blue eyes constantly searching for your presence, lingering over you when he finally found you.
But of late, you had been invading his mind more often than not. You occupied his waking thoughts and penetrated his dreams. The first time you had visited his dreams, it had been relatively innocent, standing in front of him in a yellow summer dress accentuating your perfectly toned figure. He had woken with a gasp and his cock pointing to the ceiling. Why did it have to be you?
Bucky had seen you working out with the other SHIELD agents, training, lifting, sparring with your colleagues. Your movements were akin to water, the fluidity with which you ducked and weaved, he wondered how you would move on top of him. How he longed to know what he would find under that tiny tank top you sported, under the lycra material which clung to your hips and thighs.
Since he had found you in the gym alone, training alone, he had started avoiding those times, instead he chose to use it in the wee hours of the morning or late into the night. Anything to try and shake you from his consciousness and evict you from his lucid dreams. A part of him wanted to hate you, ever since he had met you, a feeling of loneliness snaked into his heart, how it lingered under his skin. Every thought of you, every dream, he knew one day he wouldn’t be able to stop himself, and then there would be no going back.
Bucky growled quietly, but not quietly enough for him to go completely unnoticed. Several agents, including Steve, turned to glance at him. Steve shot him a warning glance but Bucky only scowled back at him. Of all the briefings Steve had forced him to attend, why did it have to be you leading it? The way you stood in the spotlight, you were literally shining. Your voice was as sweet as nectar, your skin glowed under the fluorescent beams of the meeting room and your smile dazzled everyone in the room into an enchanted silence. Why was the strain in his pants becoming so unbearable?
He was lucky his services weren’t required and he was the first to leave the meeting room, a scowl etched across his features and briefing file pressed against his crotch. He was so intent on his departure, that he missed the way Steve rolled his eyes at him and the look of shock and disappointment on your face.
Once locked in the safety of his quarters, Bucky slid his right arm under his shirt, fingertips grazing his lower abdomen. He hesitated for a few moments before pushing his hand into his pants and curling his digits around his sizable length. He was free to let out the groan of frustration. His tongue moistened the corners of his mouth, held gently between his teeth as he concentrated on freeing his cock from its restraints. He was almost shocked by the clear viscous fluid that was coating the swollen head of his cock. Almost. His lips turned up at the edges as he took his thumb and smeared the precum over his growing length.
“Fuck,” he grunted, finding a little relief to the tension that had been building inside him. He palmed himself roughly, closing his eyes, trying to imagine that it's your silky walls sheathing his member, rather than the reality of his calloused hand pumping it over and over. He pushed his pants down over his knees with his vibranium hand, letting him spread his legs. Better access to himself as he swiped through memories of you in his mind. Flicking from that time you had smiled at him, another when your fingers had brushed his when Steve had asked you to hand him a mission brief, that time he had watched your sparring session. That was it, that was the one!
The way you pinned your opponent to the ground. He was twice your size. You held his hands down and Bucky’s cock had twitched when he saw how your thighs gripped his. His insides burning with envy, he wanted to know how you felt and now he used that recollection to fabricate his fantasy. Bucky's restraint was wavering, his bottom lip buried between his teeth as stifled moans emanated from his mouth.
He could practically see your perky rounded breasts floating in front of him. What he wouldn't give to reach out and knead them in his palms, to taste your nipples, to have you pressed against his chest. Bucky groaned, thrusting his hips upwards into his hand, if only it was you he was pushing up into. He imagined the whimpers and moans you would make as he hit all the right places. Oh, to hear his name tumble from your lips!
Bucky's breaths were shallow now, panting furiously as his orgasm approached. He had lost all his inhibitions, becoming more vocal about his desires.
“Oh fuck, Doll, just like that. Look how beautiful you are. I love you like this.”
It was the image of your eyes, the thought of looking into them, it sent him over the edge. His hand pumping, chest heaving and eyes squeezed shut as the all too familiar coil in his center snapped, sending him reeling. His movements slowed, sloppier than they had been as his body relaxed and spurts of milky white elixir erupted from his cock and painted his chiseled abs.
Bucky took a few moments to regain his composure, a feeling of unease settling in his chest. Maybe one day you wouldn't be just a fantasy.
He looked up at you, his head resting against the back of the couch. A teasing smirk flitted across his face as he watched you chasing your release. Bucky loved studying your features, staring intently. The way your mouth hung open, your brows practically knitted together from the effort you were putting in and your eyelids fluttering with your attempts to keep them open. Bucky loved that about you. You were always all in, including the short panting breaths that escaped from your swollen lips. Yes, he derived just as much pleasure seeing you come undone as you did experiencing it.
“You're so damn beautiful, Doll.”
You reveled in the way his large calloused hands felt on your hips, the way he held you, and subtly guided your movements as you pushed your uncovered core against his bare thigh. You loved how he bit down on his lip, struggling to contain his own arousal, so desperate to be inside of you.
“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"
Bucky moaned as his erection strained against his boxers. Oh, how he longed to press his palm against it, just to relieve some of the tension. No, today he was going to watch, watch you use his body to get yourself off. Then maybe, if you were feeling generous, you'd return the favor. He smiled. You were the most generous person he knew.
“Having fun there, Doll?”
You noticed how mesmerized he was by your peaked nipples, your blossomed breasts swaying up and down before his very eyes. A soft laugh slipped past your lips, his struggle of restraint amusing you as you watched his nostrils flare and his heavy breathing whistling through pursed lips.
“Mind if I have a taste?”
Ultimately, it's too much for Bucky, your beautiful bosom right there on display just for him. How could he not partake? How easy it was for him to lean forward and capture one of those perky beauties between his eager lips. His tongue rolled around your hard nipple with ease. You let him suck it as his hands caressed her twin. Cupping her, pinching her nipple between his vibranium fingers and kneading your flesh. Oh, how he loved the moans you saved, just for him.
“That's my girl, God, you feel so good in my mouth.”
Once you've given him a taste, he can't stop, yearning for more. You let him leave a trail of blazing kisses across your chest, teeth grazing your skin, open lips sucking bruises up towards your neck, marking you as his. You knew how much it turned him on, seeing his marks on your body, his possessiveness taking over. In turn, his covetousness drove you crazy, dialling up your desire to dangerous levels.
“You're mine, Doll. Got that? All mine.”
At this point, his hands are all over you, fingers and palm spread across your back, dragging over your silky skin. He skimmed over your waist only to find purchase on the curve of your ass where his fingertips dug in desperately, helping you along the path to nirvana. Encouraging you with lust dripping from his voice.
“Go on, Doll. You're doing so good. Just a little more."
By now, you're so lost in a haze that your movements are less than smooth, and you thank your lucky stars that Bucky has the sense to assist. Your juices are covering his thigh as you shamelessly drag your clit over his bulging quad. Over and over. You have his undivided focus now, he can tell how close you are to falling off the edge into the carnal abyss. He helped you out as pitiful moans left your lips and tired hips faltered slightly. He squeezed his quads, the muscle hardening under you, pushing against your sensitive little nub. Bucky whispered sweet words of praise and encouragement as you let go and cum on his thigh.
“That's right, Doll, you got this. How do you always look pretty, sweet girl? Keep going, just like that, darling. Only a little more, let it go. That's it, baby, well done.”
Summary: It's your birthday. Bucky remembered a comment you made three months ago about a restaurant. He found a necklace in Steve's things and thought of you. He wrote you a card and admitted he hates motivational posters.
This is what being loved by James Barnes looks like.
A/N: Apologies, but this is just a pure piece of self indulgence. Happy birthday to me.
The morning started the way most good things in your life did lately— slowly, and with Bucky.
There was a morning order to things: the first was the light of the sunny morning, filtering through the curtains, bright and consistent. Next thing that came to your senses as the warmth at your back— the consistent weight of an arm around your waist. When you were the first to rise, the thing you often noticed wash his breathing, the deep even breathing of restful sleep. He had been up late last night— some call with Sam that had stretched well past midnight. You and Bucky had gotten together with Sam to honor Steve, but the small celebration had gone sideways because someone had called in a favor. You were used to it, the usual chaos which came with being in close orbit to Captain America. You'd fallen asleep waiting for him and hadn't heard him come to bed.
But he was here now. He was always here now.
You chose to lay still for a while, letting the morning seep in from outside the apartment and thought about how different today felt from birthdays past. Ones where you woke up alone in your apartment and spent the first waking moments quietly deciding whether to feel sad about it. Before the fake-boyfriend-who-became-the-real-thing. Before the socks in the underwear drawer and Alpine colonizing your side of the wardrobe. Before the ring on your finger.
Before James Bucky Barnes had made himself so comprehensively a part of your life that your apartment felt wrong when he wasn't in it.
You turned your head to look at him over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the still fast asleep super soldier. His was jaw soft and expression held a particular defenseless quality that only existed when he wasn't bracing against anything.
You'd seen a lot of versions of this man over the course of knowing him, loving him— the suspicious one, the sarcastic one, the one who looked at you like you'd personally rearranged his understanding of the world— but this one was still the one that got you. Every time.
Happy birthday to me, you thought with a smile, and settled back into him.
Bucky woke twenty minutes later.
You felt it happening, the slight shift in his breathing, the small adjustment of his arm, the way he went from deeply unconscious to quietly, calmly present in a matter of seconds. He'd always done that. There was no groggy intermediate phase that you usually experienced. He was just… awake.
His lips immediately found the back of your neck.
"Morning, Princess," he murmured.
"Hi," you said, turning your head slightly.
"Happy birthday."
That's all it took to undo you. Two words, in that voice, rough with sleep, against your skin. You closed your eyes.
"Thank you," you said.
He pressed another kiss to your shoulder, lazy and warm. His hand spread flat against your stomach, pulling you a little closer, and you felt the easy certainty of it all— the weight of him, this morning, this life you'd somehow stumbled into… and would choose again without hesitation every single day.
"Sleep okay?" he asked.
"Really well, actually."
"Good." He had been worried that the interruption to last night's celebration would have affected you badly. His thumb traced slow circles against your hip. "What d'you wanna do today?"
You shrugged. "Haven't thought about it."
"That's a lie," he said, smothering a grin against your shoulder. "You've been thinking 'bout it for at least… two weeks."
"That may be true... but I wanna hear what you had planned first."
He was quiet for a second before he came in with an accusatory; "Who said I had anything planned?"
"You've been weird about your phone all week, Bucky."
"I'm always weird about my phone."
"Weirder than usual."
He exhaled exasperatedly through his nose and you could feel him deciding what to say. "Okay," he said finally. "Here's what I had in mind. But if you hate any of it, don't tell me, 'cause I put a deposit on the reservation."
You turned over in his arms to face him properly. He was propped up on his elbow, looking down at you with that careful expression he got when he was a little worried how something would land with you, trying hard to look like he wasn't invested when he very clearly was.
"Tell me," you said, softly.
"I thought breakfast here. The good stuff… definitely not the emergency cereal. Then dinner— I booked the rooftop at that place on the waterfront." He paused. "The one you pointed at three months ago and said 'that looks like the kind of place you'd cry because the food is too good.'"
You stared at him. "You remembered that?"
He shrugged, brushing off the gesture. "Dinner at seven. But before that—"
He reached back to the nightstand and came back with something small, flat, wrapped in brown paper. He held it out.
"This first."
You looked at it, then at him. "Bucky, you didn't have to—"
"I know I didn't have to... Open it."
Inside the brown paper was a card.
A real card, not a printed one— thick cream paper, something handwritten on the front in his handwriting. Which had always been oddly elegant for someone who maintained such a persistently uncommunicative personality. Two words were on the front.
My Princess.
You opened it.
His handwriting filled the inside. Neat and carefully spaced, like he'd planned out each line before he committed it to paper.
I've been trying to write something impressive for three weeks. But this is all I got.
You came into my life like a grenade I didn't see coming. Which would be more poetic if I hadn't actually encountered enough of those to last a life time. But the metaphor stands.
What I'm trying to say is: before you, I was just existing. Since you, I've been living. And I know that sounds like something off a motivational poster. And I want the record to reflect that I hate motivational posters.
My point is, you're the best thing I didn't plan for. And I plan for everything.
Happy birthday. I love you. Please don't make me write another one of these for at least six months.
— Bucky
And then, underneath, in smaller letters:
P.S. Alpine tried to help. She sniffed the card, then sat on it… twice. Basically contributed nothing useful.
You sat there for a moment with the card in your hands.
"Bucky," you said.
"Before you say anything—"
"You said you hate motivational posters."
He blinked. "That's what you got from that?"
"I'm getting to the rest of it." You looked up at him. He was watching you with that careful expression— the one he wore when he'd made himself vulnerable and wasn't sure yet if it was going to be okay. "I love you too, Buck," you told him. "This is the best card I've ever received in my entire life, and I'm including my grandmother's birthday cards which always had a twenty dollar bill in them."
The corner of his mouth lifted. "So I'm better than twenty dollars."
"Significantly better than twenty dollars." You leaned across and kissed him— properly, with your hand on his jaw— and felt him soften into it the way he always did when you caught him off-guard with something real, something tender. His hand crept up to the back of your neck, thumb brushing your cheek.
When you pulled back his expression had changed. Less guarded, much warmer.
"Now the present," he said, a shy grin appearing on his lips.
"There's more?"
"There's always more. For you." He reached over you to the nightstand drawer and came back with a small velvet pouch. Dark green, soft, the kind you recognized immediately— the kind that held something special. Your eyes narrowed.
"What's this?"
He held it out. You took it, turned it over once gently before opening it. Inside, on a square of dark felt, was a necklace.
Fine gold chain. And hanging from it, a crescent moon with three stones set along the inner curve catching the morning light. Dark. Deep. The blue of a midnight sky.
Your breath caught.
"Bucky." Your voice came out smaller than you intended.
"Apparently they are Montana sapphires," he said. "I found the pendant in Steve's things a few months back. His ma had kept them— wrapped up in a cloth in an old tin." He paused. "When I saw them, I couldn't stop thinking 'bout you. So I took them to Anita. She sorted the rest."
You looked down at the stones. That deep, deep blue, that sometimes showed in his eyes. Usually in the dark late at night.
Your throat tightened.
"The moon," he added, quieter now, like he needed to get the rest out. "That crescent sketch. The one in your personal folder. You told me once it was the first thing you ever made that you were actually proud of." He gave you a small shrug in response to the look you gave him. "I remembered."
You set the necklace on the nightstand, took his face in your hands and kissed him. He pulled you into him immediately, warm and solid and certain, and kissed you back the way he always did when you caught him off guard with something real.
When you pulled apart he pressed his forehead to yours.
"It's perfect," you told him. "Buck, absolutely perfect."
He exhaled slowly. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
You turned your back to him and lifted your hair. He fastened the chain carefully, then pressed his lips to the back of your neck. When you faced him again he was already looking at you— at the pendant, at your face— like he was trying to hold onto both images at the same time.
Neither of you said anything else for a moment.
Then Alpine landed on the bed between you with a thump and sat down like she'd been there the whole time.
Bucky looked at her. "Really?"
She purred.
You laughed, and felt him laugh against you, quiet and real.
Summary: It's your birthday. Bucky remembered a comment you made three months ago about a restaurant. He found a necklace in Steve's things and thought of you. He wrote you a card and admitted he hates motivational posters.
This is what being loved by James Barnes looks like.
A/N: Apologies, but this is just a pure piece of self indulgence. Happy birthday to me.
The morning started the way most good things in your life did lately— slowly, and with Bucky.
There was a morning order to things: the first was the light of the sunny morning, filtering through the curtains, bright and consistent. Next thing that came to your senses as the warmth at your back— the consistent weight of an arm around your waist. When you were the first to rise, the thing you often noticed wash his breathing, the deep even breathing of restful sleep. He had been up late last night— some call with Sam that had stretched well past midnight. You and Bucky had gotten together with Sam to honor Steve, but the small celebration had gone sideways because someone had called in a favor. You were used to it, the usual chaos which came with being in close orbit to Captain America. You'd fallen asleep waiting for him and hadn't heard him come to bed.
But he was here now. He was always here now.
You chose to lay still for a while, letting the morning seep in from outside the apartment and thought about how different today felt from birthdays past. Ones where you woke up alone in your apartment and spent the first waking moments quietly deciding whether to feel sad about it. Before the fake-boyfriend-who-became-the-real-thing. Before the socks in the underwear drawer and Alpine colonizing your side of the wardrobe. Before the ring on your finger.
Before James Bucky Barnes had made himself so comprehensively a part of your life that your apartment felt wrong when he wasn't in it.
You turned your head to look at him over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the still fast asleep super soldier. His was jaw soft and expression held a particular defenseless quality that only existed when he wasn't bracing against anything.
You'd seen a lot of versions of this man over the course of knowing him, loving him— the suspicious one, the sarcastic one, the one who looked at you like you'd personally rearranged his understanding of the world— but this one was still the one that got you. Every time.
Happy birthday to me, you thought with a smile, and settled back into him.
Bucky woke twenty minutes later.
You felt it happening, the slight shift in his breathing, the small adjustment of his arm, the way he went from deeply unconscious to quietly, calmly present in a matter of seconds. He'd always done that. There was no groggy intermediate phase that you usually experienced. He was just… awake.
His lips immediately found the back of your neck.
"Morning, Princess," he murmured.
"Hi," you said, turning your head slightly.
"Happy birthday."
That's all it took to undo you. Two words, in that voice, rough with sleep, against your skin. You closed your eyes.
"Thank you," you said.
He pressed another kiss to your shoulder, lazy and warm. His hand spread flat against your stomach, pulling you a little closer, and you felt the easy certainty of it all— the weight of him, this morning, this life you'd somehow stumbled into… and would choose again without hesitation every single day.
"Sleep okay?" he asked.
"Really well, actually."
"Good." He had been worried that the interruption to last night's celebration would have affected you badly. His thumb traced slow circles against your hip. "What d'you wanna do today?"
You shrugged. "Haven't thought about it."
"That's a lie," he said, smothering a grin against your shoulder. "You've been thinking 'bout it for at least… two weeks."
"That may be true... but I wanna hear what you had planned first."
He was quiet for a second before he came in with an accusatory; "Who said I had anything planned?"
"You've been weird about your phone all week, Bucky."
"I'm always weird about my phone."
"Weirder than usual."
He exhaled exasperatedly through his nose and you could feel him deciding what to say. "Okay," he said finally. "Here's what I had in mind. But if you hate any of it, don't tell me, 'cause I put a deposit on the reservation."
You turned over in his arms to face him properly. He was propped up on his elbow, looking down at you with that careful expression he got when he was a little worried how something would land with you, trying hard to look like he wasn't invested when he very clearly was.
"Tell me," you said, softly.
"I thought breakfast here. The good stuff… definitely not the emergency cereal. Then dinner— I booked the rooftop at that place on the waterfront." He paused. "The one you pointed at three months ago and said 'that looks like the kind of place you'd cry because the food is too good.'"
You stared at him. "You remembered that?"
He shrugged, brushing off the gesture. "Dinner at seven. But before that—"
He reached back to the nightstand and came back with something small, flat, wrapped in brown paper. He held it out.
"This first."
You looked at it, then at him. "Bucky, you didn't have to—"
"I know I didn't have to... Open it."
Inside the brown paper was a card.
A real card, not a printed one— thick cream paper, something handwritten on the front in his handwriting. Which had always been oddly elegant for someone who maintained such a persistently uncommunicative personality. Two words were on the front.
My Princess.
You opened it.
His handwriting filled the inside. Neat and carefully spaced, like he'd planned out each line before he committed it to paper.
I've been trying to write something impressive for three weeks. But this is all I got.
You came into my life like a grenade I didn't see coming. Which would be more poetic if I hadn't actually encountered enough of those to last a life time. But the metaphor stands.
What I'm trying to say is: before you, I was just existing. Since you, I've been living. And I know that sounds like something off a motivational poster. And I want the record to reflect that I hate motivational posters.
My point is, you're the best thing I didn't plan for. And I plan for everything.
Happy birthday. I love you. Please don't make me write another one of these for at least six months.
— Bucky
And then, underneath, in smaller letters:
P.S. Alpine tried to help. She sniffed the card, then sat on it… twice. Basically contributed nothing useful.
You sat there for a moment with the card in your hands.
"Bucky," you said.
"Before you say anything—"
"You said you hate motivational posters."
He blinked. "That's what you got from that?"
"I'm getting to the rest of it." You looked up at him. He was watching you with that careful expression— the one he wore when he'd made himself vulnerable and wasn't sure yet if it was going to be okay. "I love you too, Buck," you told him. "This is the best card I've ever received in my entire life, and I'm including my grandmother's birthday cards which always had a twenty dollar bill in them."
The corner of his mouth lifted. "So I'm better than twenty dollars."
"Significantly better than twenty dollars." You leaned across and kissed him— properly, with your hand on his jaw— and felt him soften into it the way he always did when you caught him off-guard with something real, something tender. His hand crept up to the back of your neck, thumb brushing your cheek.
When you pulled back his expression had changed. Less guarded, much warmer.
"Now the present," he said, a shy grin appearing on his lips.
"There's more?"
"There's always more. For you." He reached over you to the nightstand drawer and came back with a small velvet pouch. Dark green, soft, the kind you recognized immediately— the kind that held something special. Your eyes narrowed.
"What's this?"
He held it out. You took it, turned it over once gently before opening it. Inside, on a square of dark felt, was a necklace.
Fine gold chain. And hanging from it, a crescent moon with three stones set along the inner curve catching the morning light. Dark. Deep. The blue of a midnight sky.
Your breath caught.
"Bucky." Your voice came out smaller than you intended.
"Apparently they are Montana sapphires," he said. "I found the pendant in Steve's things a few months back. His ma had kept them— wrapped up in a cloth in an old tin." He paused. "When I saw them, I couldn't stop thinking 'bout you. So I took them to Anita. She sorted the rest."
You looked down at the stones. That deep, deep blue, that sometimes showed in his eyes. Usually in the dark late at night.
Your throat tightened.
"The moon," he added, quieter now, like he needed to get the rest out. "That crescent sketch. The one in your personal folder. You told me once it was the first thing you ever made that you were actually proud of." He gave you a small shrug in response to the look you gave him. "I remembered."
You set the necklace on the nightstand, took his face in your hands and kissed him. He pulled you into him immediately, warm and solid and certain, and kissed you back the way he always did when you caught him off guard with something real.
When you pulled apart he pressed his forehead to yours.
"It's perfect," you told him. "Buck, absolutely perfect."
He exhaled slowly. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
You turned your back to him and lifted your hair. He fastened the chain carefully, then pressed his lips to the back of your neck. When you faced him again he was already looking at you— at the pendant, at your face— like he was trying to hold onto both images at the same time.
Neither of you said anything else for a moment.
Then Alpine landed on the bed between you with a thump and sat down like she'd been there the whole time.
Bucky looked at her. "Really?"
She purred.
You laughed, and felt him laugh against you, quiet and real.
Thank you very much! For the birthday wishes, for reading and I'm very glad you enjoyed it. I've created a whole universe for these two particular characters and I am working on expanding it with a new series (hopefully coming soon) and some one shots/ficlets for them too.
