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appocalipse · 11 days

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something good ⋆ bucky barnes

summary: bucky is about to go to war without confessing his feelings for you. you are about to watch him leave without confessing your feelings for him. that is, unless one of you gets up the courage to do something about it...

"I...need some fresh air. I'll be back."

Steve looks like he's going to argue with you as you push the chair out, but then you glance toward where Bucky disappeared in the crowd of people dancing, and Steve's face softens before he gives you a nod.

"We'll be right here," he says, pointing to your barely-touched drink. "Be careful."

The alley behind the bar is damp and quiet, cool from the rain earlier in the day but blissfully empty. You lean against the bricks and tip your head back, closing your eyes.

Steve was wrong — you should have stayed home.

He'd begged you to come out tonight; it wasn't just the two of them, he'd said, his eyes wide with hope. A few others had been invited, too, old friends who Bucky had wanted to see one last time before shipping out tomorrow.

And girls, of course. Girls with big smiles and bright eyes, who looked at Bucky as if they were hungry and he was a steak dinner.

To his credit, though, Bucky had asked you to dance first, and you'd said no. No, because it would have been impossible to act casually around him with your hands on his chest and his on your waist.

So, yes, you’d needed some fresh air after that. How could you not, when—

"Are you mad at me?"

You turn toward the voice that came from down the alley. Even though it's dark, you, of course, recognize him instantly, silhouetted against the weak light coming from inside the bar.

"Me? No, you—I'm not," you reply, your tongue feeling like it weighs three pounds. You attempt a smile. "What are you doing out here? You should be inside, enjoying your last night, no?"

Bucky shrugs and walks closer, but only far enough so you can see each other without straining.

"I was looking for you," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Steve said you'd come out here."

"I'll go back inside soon, I promise. Don't worry."

He doesn't move except to kick a loose pebble away from his toe. "Why didn't you want to dance with me?"

Your stomach plummets at the question. He sounds almost hurt, and you wish you could explain yourself to him in a way that doesn't include blurting out your stupid feelings in the process.

"Uh...I don't know, I just...well, no reason," you stumble, wishing desperately that you weren't such an idiot. "I thought I'd keep Steve company while you...you know."

"Danced with the rest of them?"

You nod silently.

Bucky makes a scoffing sound before running a hand through his hair. "They're all the same."

"Okay..."

"It's not, uh, it's not what you think," he continues, taking a step forward, then back again as if he's unsure of how close to stand. "The girls — they're nice and pretty, sure, but...they're just not... I don't think they're my type, I guess."

"Uh-huh," you murmur, turning your gaze downward toward your shoes, suddenly finding it easier to look anywhere but at him. "Yeah, well, we better get back before—"

"Is there somebody else?"

The air in your lungs vanishes at his abrupt question, and you look up as your heart starts beating out of rhythm.

"Excuse me?" you whisper, surprised that you've even found your voice. "Somebody else?"

"Somebody that you...that you're seeing," Bucky says slowly, his words strained, as if every one causes him pain.

You stare at him for a second, hoping this is a joke, that maybe Steve put him up to asking these ridiculous questions — or maybe he's been drinking too much — because, surely, Bucky couldn't possibly be trying to ask you what you think he's trying to ask you.

"Bucky, let's just go back inside—"

"It's Steve, isn't it?" he cuts you off with the most absurd statement yet. His expression softens. "It's okay, really. If you are, I mean. He's a really good guy."

"Steve?!" You actually laugh at the absurdity of it all, shaking your head until the shock fades away into incredulity. "Jesus Christ, no! I mean, Steve is...he's like a brother to me, what...what the hell are we even talking about?"

"But...there's someone?" he asks again, sounding less upset than he had a few moments ago.

"No, not—no," you say, slouching against the wall and shrugging halfheartedly. "There's no one. Honestly, there hasn't been since..."

"Since when?"

Since I met you.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose and praying that a sinkhole will open up and swallow you whole. This has gone on long enough. "I don't know. It's...been a little while. I don't know what you want me to say, really."

"I just wondered."

"Okay, fine."

You start to walk back to the door leading inside, but Bucky moves so quickly that you run smack into his chest.

"Wait, just—"

He grabs your hand and holds it gently, thumb softly brushing along your knuckles.

Your breath hitches at the unexpected contact. You glance down at where he's holding onto you, then back up again, confused, curious, wondering if this is real and not some strange dream you'll wake up from any moment now.

You exhale with a shaky laugh when he lifts his other hand to your cheek and rubs his thumb across it, stopping at the corner of your mouth.

Slowly, so slowly, he leans in.

"Bucky," you breathe, his name soft on your tongue.

His forehead touches yours, and you reach up to rest a palm against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your fingertips.

"Do you not want me to...?"

He's never been this close to you, but everything about the moment feels familiar — the heat radiating from his body, the light scratch of his stubble on your cheek, the smell of him surrounding you.

You lift your chin slightly. "I do, but..."

"Just..." You feel the warmth of his breath on your lips; he's so close now that they brush against yours as he speaks. "I wish I'd...said something before it came to this."

"Before what came to this?"

"That I'd have...asked you. Proper, like. Dinner, movie. You know, the way it shoulda been. Before I...before I leave."

You stiffen at the word leave, pulling back so that you can look him in the eye.

"Bucky..."

"I wish I would've asked you to dinner. Would've loved to take you to dinner," he says, his eyes searching yours. "Wouldn't that have been nice, doll?"

A small smile lifts the corner of your mouth. "It would've."

"It could've been nice, you and me."

"I think it could have been."

"Yeah?" he chuckles quietly, lifting your hand and bringing it to his lips. He presses a kiss to the back of your fingers, then your palm. "I think it can still be. You see, I'm quite selfish. I'd like to go to war with something good to think of. Something — or someone — to come home to. That'd be worth coming home to."

"Like...Steve?"

It's a joke, of course, and Bucky, to his credit, does laugh, too. Then, he slips a finger under your chin and tips your face up toward his. You hold your breath as he dips his head to place a gentle, barely-there kiss on the corner of your mouth. "Not like Steve. No."

The music from inside the bar becomes louder, a woman's voice singing softly, sweetly. Stars fading, but I linger on, dear...

"I..." You clear your throat nervously, fiddling with the collar of his jacket. "You better come back to me in one piece."

"You gonna be waiting for me?"

You smirk. "I mean, I already waited this long, so I might as well—"

The rest of your words disappear into his kiss. You gasp at the sudden, almost desperate press of Bucky's lips on yours, but then he brings his hands to the sides of your face and kisses you more gently, more slowly, more purposefully, as if he has a lot to say to you in this moment but words fail him and the only thing left to do is this — to kiss you, over and over, again and again, to say, with his lips, with his hands, with every inch of himself...that he'll come back to you.

You whimper as Bucky's teeth catch your lower lip and tug before letting go. He pulls back far enough to look at you, to see your swollen lips parted. "So...that means yes, right?"

"Yes," you murmur. You slide your hands over his shoulders and into his hair, pulling his mouth back down to yours. "It means yes."

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ghostlyfleur · 4 months

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♡ hot cocoa and movie night with bucky

[made by request]

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mrsmariebarnes · 10 months

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• bucky barnes has known sacrifice. he's tasted it in the bitter winters of his past, carried it in the metal weight of his arm, seen it in the harsh truth of his reflection. a man out of time, a soldier built for war, he's given himself — his very essence — to a world that's demanded everything from him.

• he knows the stories, the narratives spun by the world, that the morally righteous thing to do is to lay oneself bare for the many. that's the narrative he'd once lived — offering himself up as a sacrifice for his country, for people he'd never know.

• but being the winter soldier, that chapter of his life that he struggles every day to reconcile with, it's shown him the world in its raw, unfiltered cruelty. it’s a world that had taken him and shaped him into something he never wanted to be.

• it’s a world that had tried to strip him of his humanity, his capacity for love, for gentleness. but it’s you who had brought him back, you who taught him that there was still beauty to be found amidst the broken pieces.

• there's something relentless in your love, something that can mend the most shattered parts of him, something that gives him a reason to believe in more than just survival. it's not about the good of many anymore, not when he has you by his side, your love painting colors onto his grayscale world.

• you are his world, his everything. you’re the warmth in his frostbitten world, the peace in his turbulent existence. the world may crumble, the stars may fall, but as long as he has you, bucky barnes will always have something to fight for. something — someone — worth every sacrifice.

• if he had to choose, he'd choose you. for once, the world can save itself.

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buckymorelikefuckme · 17 days

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headcanon: 5

a dark fic where bucky has been stalking you for months, his obsession growing day by day, while pretending to be your friend that you met online. he'd used someone else's pictures because he's not an idiot.

plus, he isn't ready to make his big move yet. he's got a few things that need to be sorted first.

in fact, all of the personal information he's given you (as far as his name, appearance, where he lives, etc.) has been false. but he couldn't keep himself from talking to you, wanting to learn everything he could about you, and not just from doing research and watching you from safe distances. he wanted to hear it all from your lips, got off on gathering every single bit of information, be it big or small, straight from the source.

and oh, how very open you were willing to be when you thought it was only a genuine friendship he was after. little did you know he wanted much more than that, and he fully planned on getting it, whether you liked it or not.

what he didn't account for, however, was just how well he played his part. how eager you'd be to meet him in real life.

"surprise!" you greet when he answers your call. "i'm coming to see you!"

and all he's able to say in reply is a gruff, "what?" because this isn't part of his plan at all, he's so close to getting everything just right--the cabin way off grid, the excuse for why you suddenly fall off the face of the planet, an excuse for why he's lied to you all this time, why you should stay with him forever... and now it's in danger of falling apart.

"what do you mean, what?" you laugh, a slight hitch in your tone, as if his response wasn't the one you desired.

"i mean," he starts, squeezing his eyes shut tight, his grip on his phone becoming painful, "sorry, i'm just. i'm shocked."

you sound relieved when you sigh. "well that's the point of a surprise, silly." you giggle some more and it eases some of his frustration, but not enough. "i've got my flight booked and everything! you'll just have to pick me up from the airport. i hope you don't mind, but i assumed i could just stay with you?"

stay with you...

stay with you.

bucky bites his lip. "yeah, of course, you can stay with me," he replies, raspy and full of longing.

#IDK IDK IDK IDK...#just a thought u kno #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #avengers fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes hc #bucky barnes imagine #dark bucky barnes

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munsonshire · 7 months

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Bucky Barnes as a Boyfriend

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (gender neutral reader) Warnings: all fluff Masterlist

He worries so much about your safety

He's the kind of boyfriend that would want to dance with you at all times, given that he's from the 40s he would dance to old songs with you

You like to stick magnets to his metal arm to decorate it, he doesn't like it one bit, at first at least, he keeps being grumpy about it but deep down you know he likes it. It makes his metal arm feel less like a deadly weapon and more like something he could get used to and actually like over time.

Likes to travel, he wants to see everything he didn't have time to see in the past and so, he will take you with him

When he leaves on missions he leaves something of his with you so you don't forget him

He makes sure that you know you're loves

He's really into pda

#bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky barnes hc #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x gn!reader #marvel #marvel x reader #bucky barnes marvel #bucky marvel #marvel bucky #marvel bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader headcanons

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wintersoldierwhore · 1 month

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BREAKING: NEW BUCKY SERIES!

so, in the past i've written small imagines based on ariana grande songs, and i want to start it back up!!! send me song recs and i will write something for ya!

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bucky-bucket-barnes · 2 years

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dance with me

Summary: After a bandage session with the lovable but stubborn Bucky Barnes, you decide to end the night with a dance.

Paring: female!reader x bucky barnes

Warnings: whump, hurt comfort, angst, fluff, minor descriptions of violence

Word Count: 1.9k

Masterlist

No matter how many times you’d seen the same pair of nasty bruises upon his body, you couldn’t stop yourself from wincing at the sight. Each scar on his forehead somehow echoed on yours, each cut on his limbs becoming a phantom in your nervous system. Every time you’d pour alcohol on a fleshy wound, still freshly torn around the edges, you’d flinch because he wouldn’t.

It was an odd system you two had worked out. Bucky would come home from a mission, refusing medical care from anyone who tried to help. After showing up at his door and a few minutes of coaxing and reassuring, you’d eventually dress his minor wounds and send him in the next day to get a full check up.

“I can do it myself. I’m not your burden to bear.”

“You’re not my burden, you’re my friend.”

“You know what I mean.” His tired eyes gazed into yours.

“I don’t think I do.” Your sorry eyes stared back into his.

Knocking on his door, you took a deep sigh. What am I doing here? You knew he’d come home the night before, most likely immediately crashing into his room the moment he tore his dirtied boots off. The image of him crawling into a lifeless room, exhausted body collapsing before he could even pull the covers over himself weaved a certain heaviness in the heart. So there you were, once again at his door, asking to be let in.

Bucky shot up on his couch, a wince hissing through his teeth as he moved. If you had seen him, you surely would’ve scolded him. Another gentle knock sounded from his door. He knew that timid sound from a mile away. You were always caught in between wanting to let him rest and needing to make sure he wouldn’t get an infected cut from being so damn stubborn. He pondered letting you eventually fade from the door, going home and snuggling back into bed at this awfully late hour of the night. The thought of you walking in the dark all alone made the tight feeling in his chest ache more than his bruises did, though, so he decided against it.

Bucky didn’t even bother to ask who was there, he knew. Standing up slowly, he went to open the door, being greeted by his favorite smile, the dim light of the hallway casting a warm haze over your complexion.

“Bucky,” you greeted, already stepping in.

“There’s my favorite girl,” he lulled, voice still rasped from sleep.

You scoffed, leading him to sit down on the couch. “You say that to every woman that comes here?”

“Only the pretty ones.”

Clearing your throat, you attempted to divert the conversation.

“How was the mission?”

“I came back in mostly one piece.”

“Mostly?” you mouthed in confusion, digging through his cabinet to find spare bandages. Your eyes already began searching his body for damage.

“Yeah, well 1945 was not my year,” he grumbled, flexing the fingers of his bionic arm.

Despite your best effort to remain composed, you couldn’t help the small laugh that broke past your lips. Seeing you fight hard to choke back your giggling in an attempt to protect his feelings made his lips curl in delight.

“You come here to play doctor again?”

“Did you go to the infirmary this time?” You couldn’t find the bandaids you’d left in the draw from the last time.

“I didn’t need to,” he rationed lightly, placing a gentle hand over yours, attempting to stop frantic search. His steady hand upon yours made you realize how much you were shaking. He could feel your heart fluttering, the tenseness of your joints.

“You’re going to worry yourself sick over me. I’m okay. It’s two in the morning, you should be in bed.” His tone wasn’t scolding. His voice was soft around the edges with endearment, eyes still wet with sleep.

“If I don’t worry about you, who will?” you responded, moving your hand to gently turn his face to examine it further, dismissing his commentary. There was a ripe wound across his right temple, a messy pile of red and purple flesh.

You motioned for him to sit down and he complied tiredly, realizing you couldn’t be bargained with until you patched up something on his tattered body. He was shirtless when you entered, a vain attempt to battle the summer heat that knew how to stick to every crevice of his body. His chest had smaller bruises, superficial cuts here and there, but nothing too worrying.

“What happened,” you asked, dabbing some rubbing alcohol onto a washcloth.

“Occupational hazard. You should see the other guys,” he joked.

“I’m serious,” Your hands reached gently to his head wound, pressing ever so lightly. His natural reaction would have been to wince, the sound of his open cut sizzling loudly in his ears. He knew it’d drive you mad, sending you further into a spiral of worry, so he remained quiet. “It’s usually not this bad.”

“I’m just not in the talking mood tonight,” he answered solemnly. A band aid isn’t going to fix this. You dropped the bloodied cloth in the sink before you reached for the bandages on the counter.

“Just,” you sighed, “Please be more careful.”

“How else am I supposed to get your attention? You only come around when I’m broken.”

Guilty. He wasn’t wrong and it made your stomach feel sour. He’d invited you out on other occasions, even mustering up the courage to ask you on a few dates. You wanted to say yes, he even knew that. But nothing was ever that simple because why would it be?

Your relationship was better like this, it was safer like this. Seeing Bucky hurt now drove you almost damn mad, you couldn’t imagine your reaction if you were dating. Spending long nights curled up in a half empty bed, worrying about somehow halfway across the world.

Every mission could be your last one.

It won’t be, though. As long as I’ve got you, I always have a reason to come home.

That’s sweet, but that’s not enough.

“Bucky,” you sighed apologetically. What was there to say? You weren’t sorry. You still felt bad. This was a tired conversation you had had before, a broken record looping on your tongues.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I’m just tired.” He gave you a weak smile in a fruitless attempt to reassure you.

Tired from work or just tired of this?

“Yeah,” you answered half heartedly, “I get it. I’ll bandage this for tonight but you should get someone else to look at this.”

Bucky silently nodded his head, keeping his eyes trained on your worried expression. He studied the knot between your brows, the slight downturn of your lips. You worked slowly, wrapping the white cloth around his head a few times before securing it neatly. Maybe it was fatigue or just the lighting playing a trick on your vision, but he appeared so much younger in that moment. That boyish grin that would appear everytime you caught his eyes, a low hum sounding from his throat to fill the silence.

“I’m done. You should be good for the night.”

“Thank you.”

“I should go now.”

“It’s late, stay.”

A steady eye contact remained between you two. Bucky feared if he looked away for a moment you’d disappear into the night like a shadow. It was so easy to miss you, even if you were standing right in front of him, a deep breath away.

You didn’t want to leave, in all honesty. The time of night wasn’t much concern to you.

“I don’t want to bother you.”

“Please, it’s all I ever hope you’ll do,” he pleaded lightly, slipping your hands into his. “Everytime you walk out that door, I don’t know when you’ll come back.”

His palms were rough and warm like a dying fire. You could feel your resolve crumbling as each second ticked silently.

Okay.

You’d stay because your body and heart were both exhausted from always running. Because one night wouldn’t make much of a difference, you both were in too deep. You’d play pretend for the evening, actors without a script but who knew this scene by heart. You’d stay because sometimes these sweet moments, these little ecstasies, were somehow enough to get by on.

A small moment of silence, your eyes turning away from Bucky’s.

“You still have that old CD lying around?” you asked off into the distance, staring at the empty kitchen sink.

“Of course I do.” You could hear the smile in his voice. He walked over to his radio before popping in the CD you gave to him, signed with love. A collection of different songs from the decades. Love songs, to be more exact.

You can blame me, try to shame me, and still I'll care for you.

He let out a sigh of joy. “Oh, I love this one.”

You let out a small laugh, seeing his body begin to sway. It was easy to see how he wooed so many women in his prime. There was something effortless about his movement, something people spent years trying to capture in a bottle.

“You wanna dance, soldier?” you teased, your body making its way over to join him.

“Never took you for a dancer.”

He’d dreamed of a sickly sweet moment like this with you. This was the kind of memory parents told their children after a few too many beers. We were young, we were in love.

“If we dance, we don’t have to speak.”

Talking never got you two anywhere good. You’d either stop pretending like you wouldn’t be gone by the time he woke up or he’d find a way to ask for your love again as if he didn’t already have it.

The world may think I’m foolish, they can’t see you like I can. Oh, but anyone who knows what love is will understand.

He reached out his palm in invitation, you already closing the space between the two of you. His hands glided to your waist, fingers taking their time to feel your outline. Your arms hooked around his neck, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine.

I know, I know to ever let you go is more than I could ever stand.

This is what normal people who are in love did. They stargazed in one another’s eyes and somehow managed to make empty promises without whispering a word.

Oh, but anyone who knows what love is will understand.

“This is ridiculous,” he laughed quietly.

“We can stop.”

“I never said I wanted to stop.”

If they try love, they’ll understand.

The space between you two was becoming suffocating. You leaned into his mouth for air and he was happy to provide oxygen. His lips were as soft as you pictured them, gentle as they moved. The tension from your body slipped into the night as you fell into his bruised arms.

For the first time in a long time, it had felt like Bucky had come home.

a/n: the song in this fic is “anyone who knows what love is” by irma thomas. reblogs are more than appreciated and i hope you enjoyed :)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x poc!reader #bucky barnes x civilian!reader #bucky barnes whump #bucky barnes hurt comfort #bucky barnes hc #bucky barnes hurt/comfort #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel

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vellicore · 1 year

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The fact that Bucky Barnes was 20 years old reading the Hobbit fills me with so much joy. He wasn’t a little kid enjoying this book in school. No, he was a young adult reading this book. Nerdy Bucky is my favorite thing.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes canon #bucky barnes hc

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sootiesweep · 4 days

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Bucky Barnes & Anaesthesia

trigger warning: fictional medical trauma

I was talking with a friend a little while ago and we got onto the topic of super-soldiers + alcohol, and how it doesn't affect them/they can't get drunk. He then asked, "Wait, does that mean that no drugs affect Bucky?"

This is an interesting question, concerning the Winter Soldier, because the initial thought is that surely some medical drugs would've had to work for his procedures to be successful. But in "The Wakanda Files" (an official Marvel book about the science of the MCU), Shuri states that Hydra "didn't administer any dulling agents" before Bucky's sessions of Electroconvulsive Therapy. For reference, General Anaesthesia is always administered before ECT - the patient is always unconscious, as seizures are induced and they could hurt themselves otherwise (never mind the pain of the electricity itself). This is why Bucky shakes in the chair, and why he's given a mouthguard in CA:TWS.

One then questions why this lack of anaesthetic was the case. Simple cruelty? A form of torture to encourage compliance? Possible, and I wouldn't put that past Hydra, but it wouldn't be in the best interests of preserving the physical health of their weapon.

I'm now thinking that it was probably because anaesthetics simply wouldn't have worked on him. Hydra created a super-human who could withstand (or at least recover from) intense amounts physical trauma - so much so that he was immune to painkillers and anaesthetics. Anything that would lessen the pain. In "The Wakanda Files", Shuri confirms that Bucky now has brain damage as a result of the ECT.

Hydra created a super-human, and were then incapable of easing the pain they put him through. But then again, in their eyes, what would be the point of wasting those resources - if his body would heal from it eventually anyway?

#from an instagram story I wrote in january #bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky barnes analysis #bucky barnes hc #textpost #sootie's rants

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 21 days

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croissant - send me a sfw request!

omg would you want to do “kissing after conversations about how they’d be better as friends” from this prompt list with any character of your choosing !🫶

a/n: i am on my bucky brain rot these days, so i can't resist giving it to him

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | join my 10k celebration!

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you breathed, yet your face still didn’t move back even an inch as you shared the heated air in the sliver between you two, “it would be a bad idea to start something…”

“Really bad…” Bucky’s eyes flickered down to your lips, “really fucking bad.”

And before you could even suck in your next breath, he’d seized the back of your head and pulled you in for a kiss so hot it nearly scorched you.

“It would just be way too messy,” he murmured in between pecks as his steely fingers twirled in the hair at the base of your neck, “if we gave us chance.”

As your leg swung over his form and you slid into his lap, “we’d just be better off as friends,” you sighed shakily as his lips began to wander down the length of your neck and over your thrumming pulse, “just friends.”

“Yeah,” he found your hazy gaze as his broad palms began to slide down the curve of your spine, “just friends.”

#10k celebration #lea’s writing #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes hc #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes blurb #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut

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wintercosmickillsx · 5 months

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Bucky was born in 1925, but I've never been able to find a month or date, or remember anything from the comics. So I'm gonna make one up, make him a true winter baby and make it Dec 20th, 1925.

#bucky barnes HC #ooc

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ghostlyfleur · 5 months

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♡ life with sargent james barnes

#fleur museum™#moodboards #bucky barnes (harmo’s version)#1940s!bucky #40s!bucky #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #j.b.b.#sargent barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes moodboard #bucky barnes aesthetic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes hc #bucky barnes fluff #40s bucky moodboard #marvel mcu #mcu moodboard

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beefybuckrrito · 15 days

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I'm just thinking about Bucky Barnes thinking you're too sweet for him

#eating drywall #kicking and punching air #bucky barnes hc #Spotify #iva postings

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buckyysdoll · 9 months

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— “𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥” —

જ⁀➴ — 18+ MDNI — summary: literally just sex; a/n: i edited this drunk at 3.30am in a hotel room, so i can only apologise; cw: sort of dark! bucky (eg brief choking), p in v, use of pet names “sweetheart, doll”; pairing: bucky x f!reader

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The pounding of his cock was relentless, driving deep until he bottomed out in full. He retreated some inches — yielding little, giving less — and over again was the strong, hard length of him inside you. The only sounds in the room were lewd as he took his sweet time taking you, twin breaths coming heavy as you both tried and failed to regain a composure that just wouldn’t come.

You’d been at it for hours by now, and yet release could not be chased despite how hard you tried.

He’d groaned at the first slide of his cock into your warmth, and the narrative had been coming ever since — an endless stream. Who knew Bucky Barnes — the damn Winter Soldier — was so vocal in bed? Though if there was one person who wouldn’t complain it was you; you could barely form words as it was.

“Fuck” was the first word he'd said, though, and now was a mantra he could only repeat. It had been drawn out and lost in his throat but was now more assertive — he had taken control.

As if you’d ever not been at the mercy of his words and heated touch; as if anything else could ever rule you the same way that he could:

So damn absolutely.

For in an instant of him being within you, you had pulled him in so tight that you felt his cock strain, muscles tensing. You’d clawed at his back and Bucky had tried damn fucking hard not to come there and then; it was an effort to allow you to adjust to his length without letting his release spill inside.

The truth? You really just felt that fucking good. It seemed as though you had been made just for him.

It was because of this, all for this then, that you were now still lying spread on your back, wet thighs hot with your thorough arousal and the multiple times tonight you’d already come. You were so sore, so thoroughly ruined, that even a slight shiver of touch made you ache, but he’d have you in any way that he could until he thoroughly owned you.

He had told you as much.

But it was praise that now fell from those beautiful lips that were parted in the absence of breath; as he pushed further and deeper inside you, a litany of curses blessed the words that he spoke.

Bucky’s mouth was hot and wet in the curve between your shoulder and neck, stirring your nerves with each depraved word that he spoke into your skin like a prayer.

Like you were all he could see.

"Fuck yes, that's a good girl. Taking me so well, I’d think you're made for this cock." There it was again — that soft, soft praise. So warming that it heated both your heart and your core, too.

Indeed, the words were further pronounced with a harder, deeper thrust of his hips, and a spasm of pleasure flushed into your stomach at the truer, slanted angle of him in you.

When you started to clench on him, around him, the change was apparent and well known to Bucky; you were so close to finally coming again that as it neared you could barely even breathe through it.

For hours, you’d been edged and barely coherent with the need he'd openly refused, not deigning to satiate the ache between your legs and only wanting to build it.

You were fucking desperate.

It didn’t matter that your pussy had clenched on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth just before, holding your hips down despite your protests that the feeling was too much, that you just couldn’t bear it.

Neither did your body care that so too had it been him that had urged you to take his fingers, and you'd already come on his cock enough times that you craved to only feel that full again.

You needed more.

And so it was that since then he’d been edging you into a mess. Only good girls got to come so many times in just one night.

And good girls begged.

Bucky had taunted that even now, after coming so much, it wouldn’t ever be enough — you were so cockdrunk that he thought, why even let you have more? Your pleasure was something only he could give so freely.

And you hadn’t yet earned it again.

The quiet mocking in his voice was almost enough, and you were so so close that it hurt. But —

If you could just “hold it" like he'd ordered, he said, then would come your last reward. And as it happened you had, and this now was it:

His cock again, again, and again.

The splinters of memory from your drawn-out night were now interrupted by Bucky's voice again at your ear, his vibranium hand so cool in its kiss as it held to your throat, giving just enough pressure.

You were compliant in his arms and he knew it, adored it, soaked up every single second of submission.

"How can such a good girl also be such a whore for me, hm? You're letting me use you like this, doll, just letting me take you however I want.”

You couldn't say a thing, could only whimper. Thoughts surfaced and broke. The sure, steady feeling of Bucky inside you getting rougher by the minute had you so sensitive that the threat of release coiled up through your stomach before you could stop it.

It was a good job then that he noticed the look in your eyes, in your tear-stained cheeks. That your fractured, desperate whimper of "Please" as you clutched to his back was at last granted some mercy.

But first —

"Tell me who you belong to." His tone was commanding, pure masculine authority. Now though, so lost to heat, you could barely make his words out through too much stimulation. Your entire world had narrowed to the thick, hard length inside you as he pushed in to your warmth, pulled out. Again and again and again.

And oh, fuck. Oh God, you were close. So close to coming that you wanted to weep.

You might've even actually done it but no shock of tears fell from your heavy-lidded eyes, and then a sharp little pull at your skin was revealed as Bucky’s teeth at your shoulder, impatient.

It was just as much warning as you'd get this time, but then your mouth regained its power to talk. All at once you came to realise that you hadn’t yet replied; Bucky’s order — the command in his voice — had so far been ignored.

And he didn’t like that.

"You Bucky, just you. Just you. " God, you were so close again but he just didn't even care. Every time your sex clenched and Bucky’s cock twitched in response, he only pulled out every time.

Or almost every. Not anymore.

Bucky now needed that wetness to coat him, needed to feel you tight and warm around his cock as you came. Needed to let himself go to release in the one place on earth he ever wanted to, now.

And so your admission broke the bonds of his subtle control, and he just ground out “Say it again." You did, and repeated it over and again with each thrust of his hips, with each groan.

You meant it and felt it with each piece of your heart as you mounted that swift sure precipice, building up higher even still as the tightly wound coil of arousal in you threatened to spill.

And so, with breath hitched and hips rolling up to match his own, your body frantic with the need to come again even after so much you'd been granted, you clenched around his cock at last as your vision was drowned in white, all and only for him.

Dark spots pricked at your coherence until every part of you was fused with Bucky, your nails at his back a last reminder that he anchored you to earth as a shattering orgasm swept you up in its tide.

And didn’t let go.

It was only a mere second later that Bucky's own thrusts grew less controlled, and his breathing pitched lower and far more erratic as he pounded, hips rolling as he came.

An ocean of warmth descended in the space between your thighs, and you still clawed at his back with weak fingers as soft aftershocks wracked through you with the force of your release.

Spent, Bucky stayed in you long after both of your breathing had slowed, his mouth and tongue working softly to soothe the bold, purple marks his teeth had made at your chest. Time passed that could’ve been minutes or hours and you spent it in blissed-out silence, your head to his chest and his heartbeat calming beneath your ear.

It was your favourite sound.

The only break in the quiet was him saying in a whisper, “Get some sleep, sweetheart.” And with his hands stroking down through your hair in such slow, soothing moves, your eyes at last drifted closed.

The last thing you heard was once again that soft praise: “You were so good for me,” and then darkness.

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