Summary: The Reader likes Bucky’s freckles a whole lot.
Pairing: Bucky X Reader Fluuufffff
Word Count: 703
A/N: I’d love to know what y’all think! Thanks for reading <3
A gasp suddenly leaves Y/N’s mouth as she sits back.
“What?” Bucky asks thickly, voice laced with sleep. He’s lying down in bed, Y/N straddling his hips. A little bit of annoyance slips into his voice when she doesn’t say anything and instead just keeps ogling him, staring down at his chest. “Y/N? What is it?”
Y/N is drunk. Usually she was finicky about touch but when she drank all she wanted to do was get her hands on people. And Bucky would be damned if he let that be anyone but himself. She’s his, just as much as he’s hers.
On principle however he refused to sleep with her while she was in this state, no matter how hard she tried to get him to, which led them to the situation they were in now. If he’s honest he loves it. He likes it when she wants to touch him and be touched, craved her skin against his own.
A drink too many at a gala had led them here, and Bucky is starting to get annoyed because he had been forced to go to the gala when he had just gotten home from a grueling mission. But Y/N begged and he went.
She had been leaning over him, inspecting a cut on his neck when she suddenly gasped. Y/N’s fingers rake over his chest as she whispers, “You have freckles.” There’s such awe in her voice that he has to laugh.
Leaning forward she starts to press her lips over the little marks. “You knew that, doll.”
“No, I didn’t,” she disagrees. And Bucky has to admit that drunk Y/N probably didn’t know. “You’re so pretty. It’s not fair.”
“You’re beautiful, doll,” he murmurs to her.
She wiggles her hips a little against his as she cranes her head to lick over another freckle. “No, not as pretty as you, never.”
All he can do is chuckle, annoyance quickly dissipating. Y/N suddenly pouts, sitting back again, “’is not fair.”
She whines and shifts again, “That you’re so handsome and you won’t let me-,”
A quick shake of his head makes her stop, “No. Y/N. No, I won’t do that to you.”
“Do what?” She asks innocently.
“Have sex with you drunk.”
A frown etches over her features. “You aren’t drunk.”
“But you are.” He rolls over so they’re on their sides, face to face. “And so we can’t.”
She sulks and goes back to kissing his neck and chest, this time with a lot less fervor. “I hate you.”
Something inside him cracks at those words on her lips. She doesn’t mean it, Bucky knows she doesn’t but he still circles his arms around her and presses his mouth to the crown of her head. “Don’t say that, babydoll. Fuck, please don’t say that. My heart can’t handle it.”
“Why not?” She grouses. “It’s true.” His heart sinks a little lower. But her fingers are still tracing over the freckles on his chest, lovingly soft. “Hate your stupid muscles and your stupid face. And your stupid arm. And your stupid, stupid, stupid freckles.” Y/N draws her nose back and forth over the stubble on his neck. “I just really like them. They’re nice. Like little stars.”
Relief floods him. “Okay, baby.”
“Will you have sex with me tomorrow?”
He seriously doubts she’ll want to with the hangover she’s bound to have in the morning. But he humors her and laughs as he says, “’Course doll. So long as you’re sober all you gotta do is ask.”
“I lied. I don’t hate you. I love you and I think you’re very beautiful.”
He chuckles weakly. “Thanks sweetheart.”
Her eyes are starting to droop closed, “I love your freckles.”
“I love you.”
Bucky waits for her to say it back, holding his breath as he does. “Love you too.” Y/N’s eyes are closed now. “’m cold.”
Still he rolls over again and pulls her onto his chest, throwing the blanket over both of them with his other hand. “Better?”
He smiles with amusement into his wife’s hair as she sighs, “Goodnight, freckles.”
3K notes · View notes