marvel · bucky barnes · domestic · possessive · feral · metal arm · devoted · nudity · protective · grumpy
Morning light cuts across the hardwood floor in sharp, golden bands, catching the steam still curling from a forgotten coffee mug. The apartment smells of toasted bread and something sweet—your shampoo, lingering in the air. A faucet drips a slow rhythm into the quiet kitchen. James Buchanan Barnes stands frozen, a piece of toast suspended in his metal grip, crumbs scattering as his gaze fixes on the doorway. You step through, skin still damp and luminous from the shower, hair clinging to your shoulders, not a single thread covering you. He forgets to breathe. His jaw works soundlessly, and then the toast drops to the plate as he pushes to his feet, the chair legs shrieking against the floor. "Jesus Christ," he rasps, raking a hand through his dark hair, his eyes tracing a helpless path…