A birthday surprise

Word Count: 2.8K+
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky is 100 years old today, and you have something special planned for him.
Rating: MA (Explicit)
Warnings: Explicit sex scenes.
A/N: SURPRISE BUCKY FIC FOR HIS BIRTHDAY! Bucky never went into the ice again and he’s happy and loved and everything is good and holy. Bye.

“Babe.”

Nothing.

“Babe.”

Nothing.

“Baby… wake up. Bucky, come on, wake up.” You move a strand of hair from his eye carefully before pressing a soft kiss to his temple, and smile when you feel him stir and groan.

“What time is it?” He asks without opening his eyes, turning around to wrap his arm around you and rest his head on your chest. You feel his heavy thigh wrap around yours and move your own arms to hold him– one hand going instinctively to caress his hair.

“It doesn’t matter what time it is right now– what matters is that it’s already midnight in your hometown.” He hums in response and holds you a little tighter, clearly not realizing what this means because he’s on the verge of falling asleep again. “Bucky? Babe, do you realize what I’m trying to say?” He nods against your chest and presses a soft kiss to your naked skin.

“It’s midnight somewhere.” He answers groggily, and you can barely hear the end of the sentence.

“Bucky, no!” You whisper-scream, trying not to giggle. “Don’t fall asleep again baby, I have something to tell you.”

“What?” He mumbles, clearly not bothered by your words.

“Happy 100th birthday, old man.”

Bucky tenses up in your arms before looking up to you completely awake, frowning slightly.

“Really?” He asks, almost sounding disbelieving. You grin and nod, biting your lip. “Wow.”

“You’ve aged so well. You don’t look a day older than 60.” You tease, raising your eyebrows. He gives you an unamused look before resting his head on your chest again, pressing himself even closer you. Your hand returns to his hair and you start scratching his scalp with your nails, and he lets out a little moan before you feel him once again kissing your chest. This time it’s sloppier though, and he bites you softly before licking the mark and kissing it again. “Tell me how you feel.” You encourage, rubbing his back.

“It all feels so… surreal. Because of course I don’t feel 100 years old but… I guess I am.” He answers after a moment, rubbing random patterns on your skin with his finger. “I guess there’s a part of me that will never get over the fact that I’m not supposed to be here like this. That I was supposed to die that day or go back home and grow old with my wife and my grandkids or something like that.” Your heart aches for him but you don’t say anything, you just continue massaging his scalp so he can say everything he wants to say. “I don’t know– because after I met you I started to think that it’s impossible that I would have found another person that I loved as much as I love you in the past century. I think I would’ve been unhappy, or just moderately happy, I guess. I probably would have grown old thinking that my life passed me by.”

“Darling…” You coo, grabbing his face with both hands so he knows you want to kiss him. It’s slow and intense– like all your kisses have always been. “I love you so much.”

“Thank you for being with me. For never leaving me. For taking care of me.” He mumbles against your lips, climbing on top of you until he’s straddling your hips. “For teaching me how to make love and for making love to me until I cry.”

You feel your hands trembling because feeling his weight on top of you always turns you on– not to mention that he’s telling you all sorts of things he knows are a guarantee to drive you wild.

You remember the first time you made love and how shy and closed off he was at first– and how his walls began to crumble with every touch and every kiss and every ‘I love you’ you whispered into his eager mouth. How he begged you to take care of him while you were riding him and how red his eyes were as he lied on top of you after you bathed him, satisfied and closer to you emotionally than ever before.

“It wasn’t like this before.” He had confessed, refusing to look at you. “You’re the third person I am intimate with, but the others times didn’t feel like this. Never like this.”

You hadn’t told him that you were surprised to hear that, because you had assumed that because he’d been a ladies’ man back in the day he surely had a lot of experience. It dawned on you later that during the 40’s it wasn’t common to have sex with people you weren’t married to because of how much people cared about what other’s said– which made his confession make a lot of sense. You never asked the nature of his previous relationships and he hasn’t told you yet, but you don’t really care about that.

“Knowing that everything that happened to me ended up in me finding you and having you in my life makes the weight in my heart feel a little lighter. It doesn’t erase the guilt but–”

“Shh, baby. I understand.” You whisper, moving your hands to his lower back to grip his ass firmly, making him grind into you. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you safe.” He practically falls on top of you at those words, grinding his big erection into you as he kisses you languidly.

“You promise?” He asks, looking at you in the eyes. You can see the raw vulnerability right there– and you know that there’s only two people in the world he’ll ever allow to see him like this. 

One is you, and the other is Steve.

That’s it.

And it makes you feel so special that you could cry.

“Always, baby. Always.” You promise, digging your nails into his ass cheeks like you know he loves. He moans lowly in response and grinds a little harder against you, making you even wetter than you already are. He joins your lips together without stopping his movements, and you know you’re both more than ready. “Turn around.” He does as told and in two seconds he’s on his back next to you, fully naked just like you are and ready to be fucked like it’s your last day on Earth.

Or like he’s a 100 year old man with the body and mind of a thirty year old.

You’re pulling him inside you as soon as you’re on top of him, and he sits up as you lower yourself on him so he can wrap his arm around you.

“Oh fuck– that feels so good.” You moan, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “You’re so fucking thick, Jesus Christ.” Bucky laughs at your words but it turns into a moan when you clench your walls around him– and he bites your bottom lip before sucking on it as you sit on him without moving.

“Please, move.” He urges, wincing. “Please, I need it.”

“Anything for the birthday boy.” You tease, kissing him deeply as you begin bouncing up and down in his lap. “You feel amazing, baby. You’re perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” Bucky retorts, grabbing one of your hands and moving it to his hair. You bury your fingers in it and even pull a little, making him groan in response. “You’re perfect.” He repeats, mumbling against your lips. “I love you.”

You start bouncing on him harder and faster, throwing your head back in pleasure. Bucky immediately takes his chance to start sucking and licking your neck, and once again you pull on his hair because you just can’t stop yourself. His beard feels rough against your skin but it contrasts with the softness of his lips, and that reduces you to a mess of moans and groans and incoherent sentences.

Bucky moves his hand between your bodies and starts rubbing circles on your clit, making you scream his name so loudly that you even surprise yourself. When you look at him he’s grinning proudly, and you growl under your breath before you join your mouths together in a desperate kiss. Your tongue easily overpowers his and you bite his bottom lip as hard as you can without actually hurting him– swallowing all the moans that come from his mouth just from that small gesture.

“I’m close– I’m so close–” He breathes out, still rubbing circles on your clit. You’re close too– and if you’re lucky you’ll manage to come at the same time he does.

“Me too, baby. Let go whenever you’re ready.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him close until his face is hidden on your shoulder, and you can feel his hot, erratic breaths on your skin.

“I’m gonna come– I’m gonna come–” He warns, and his arm wraps around your waist to pull you down on his dick one final time before he explodes inside you, and that’s enough to send you right over the edge with him.

Listening to his moans of pleasure is absolute heaven, and in the past you’ve been close to reaching an orgasm just by seeing him squirm and moan as he rubbed and touched himself all over for you, begging you to help him. 

That’s how beautiful he is.

You rest your forehead against his as you both try to regain your breaths, and when you open your eyes again you see that he’s smiling widely, looking very satisfied.

“Not bad for a 100 year old man, I must say.” You whisper playfully against his lips before kissing him softly.

“Shut up.” Bucky answers, smile still in place.

Before he found you, the thought of actually having a future that involved happiness had never crossed Bucky’s mind. He wanted to stay as far away from Steve as possible because he didn’t want him to get hurt again because of him, and he spent every day worrying about where he was going to go next. 

Always looking over his shoulder. 

Always thinking how to escape if necessary.

And then he met you.

He can honestly say that he knew there was something that drew him to you from the first second he saw you– but the truth is that it wasn’t easy or fast to actually get to a point where he felt comfortable to even speak to you, let alone have any kind of physical contact with you. But the moment you kissed for the first time he knew it immediately: you were everything he thought he’d never have a chance to have.

Bucky was already in love with you by the time you kissed and he learned later that you were in love with him too, but it took you a few months to finally say it. You said it first, and even though he knew you weren’t expecting him to say it back he did– immediately. 

And then he started crying.

That was the first time he cried in front of someone he trusted and loved in a long time.

Still, whenever you were together there was a big part of him saying that he had to leave you, that it was unfair to do this to you, that he was unstable and he could hurt you.

But how could he leave you, when you worked so hard to make him understand that he deserved love and that what he’d done wasn’t his fault but the fault of the people who had hurt him so much?

How could he leave you when you whispered soothing words in his ear whenever he had a bad nightmare, telling him that you were going protect him and it worked every single time?

How could he leave you when making love to you made him feel complete in ways he didn’t fully understand yet?

How could he leave you when you made him feel safe and wanted and protected and cherished like he would’ve never thought it was possible for a man of his time to feel?

He couldn’t leave you.

And he didn’t, until the day when Steve came to find him and he was forced to– but you understood when he told you you had to leave that building without asking questions, right before he kissed you like he was never going to kiss you again.

He truly thought he wasn’t going to.

And then you managed to find him in that abandoned building– much to Steve and Sam’s surprise– and you were ready to punch them both, had he not told you that he was okay. When you fell to your knees in front of him before you wrapped your arms around him and kissed him all over his face, mumbling words about how much you loved him and how you were going to kill whoever hurt him, he once again felt at peace. Even with his arm trapped in a way that made him unable to move, he felt at peace.

Of course you couldn’t come with him to face Iron Man and his team and you couldn’t travel with him either, but at least that time your goodbyes weren’t rushed and you were actually able to say what you wanted to each other.

He saw it in your eyes that day– you weren’t sure he was going to come back to you. And when he was fighting Iron Man alongside Steve he didn’t he was going to come back to you, either.

But here you are, sitting outside in a big chair with him between your legs resting his back against your chest, and he’s shirtless and you’re caressing his torso absent-mindedly after giving him his 24th orgasm of the day– you said that making him come once for every hour was the most achievable goal for the both of you– and his birthday is only minutes away from ending.

“I haven’t given you your present yet.” You whisper against his ear, nibbling at his earlobe.

If you keep doing that you might end up giving him 25 orgasms in one day.

“I thought making me come 24 times and that dinner and all those new toys were my present.” He says cheekily, leaning back further into you as his hand rubs your thigh.

“Well, yes. But this one is special.” You say, kissing his cheek. “Close your eyes.” He does as told and hears you leaving your wine glass on the table before you move a little behind him, only to settle again a moment later. “Give me your hand. And don’t open your eyes.” He smiles and once again does as told, and you take his hand before placing something small on his open palm. He feels a soft texture and closes his fingers around it to figure out what it is, but he doesn’t manage to.

“What is it?” He asks, frowning a little.

“Open your eyes.” You respond, and he does so immediately. It takes him a moment to process what he’s seeing, but when he does he feels his eyes filling with tears. “[Y/N]…” You use both of your hands to take a hold of his and open the box for him, and just as he thought there is a gold band inside, shining for him.

“Will you marry me, Bucky Barnes?” You ask in a whisper right next to his ear, and he feels a shiver running down his spine at the question.

This isn’t how he was taught this was supposed to be; never in his life had he even considered the possibility of something like this happening to him.

So why does it feel so right? Why does it feel like this couldn’t go any other way? Why does it feel like the best thing that ever happened to him?

Because it is.

Bucky can’t form words so he just nods and turns around to kiss you desperately, starting to mumble ‘yes’ over and over again against your lips. You smile against the kiss and take the box from his hand, taking the ring out and sliding it into his finger. He interlocks his fingers with yours as soon as you’re done, wanting to say a million things but not knowing what to say at the same time.

“I love you so much.” Is what he end ups blurting out, because it’s a familiar sentence he knows how to say, contrary to the twenty different declarations of love currently swarming in his mind that he knows won’t make sense if he tries to put them into words.

“I love you too.” You respond, burying one hand in his hair and sliding the other inside his pants.

Hitting the mark of 25 orgasms in a day with a ring on his finger seconds before his birthday ends seems like the perfect way to finish celebrating being 100 years old.

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