nini

she/her. 19. hopelessly in love with bucky barnes

[mrs-stans]

@Bustle: #SebastianStan and Sebastian Stan's tongue stun at the 2024 #CFDAs.

[inlovewith505]

he knows what he's doing.

[brunchable]

I Should Have Kissed You Longer.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Ghost F!Reader. Warning: HEAVY ANGST. JUST PURE ANGST. Grief. Death. Acceptance. Summary: After Y/N's sudden death, Bucky clings to her memory by calling her voicemail—until one night, she answers. Through a series of heart-wrenching conversations, Y/N comforts him, helping Bucky process his grief. But when the time comes for a final goodbye, Bucky must find the strength to let go. A/N: Inspired by You've reached Sam. If you want to get wrecked, I recommend reading that book.

Bucky hadn’t touched her side of the bed. He couldn’t. The faint scent of her perfume still clung to the pillows, a mix of jasmine and vanilla, her favorite. Her denim jacket—the one she never left the house without—was draped over the back of the chair, just as she had left it. He hadn’t moved it, hadn’t dared. It was like a piece of her was still here, still lingering in the empty spaces she used to fill.

The accident had been so sudden, so brutal. One moment, they were on their way home from dinner, the next, the screeching of tires and the sound of metal crumpling tore through the night. Bucky had survived with barely a scratch, but Y/N... the doctors had done everything they could. Everything except save her. If only he had been faster, maybe he could have pulled her out before the car flipped, before the fire swallowed everything.

If he had known how little time they had left, maybe he would’ve held her a little longer the last time they embraced. Maybe he wouldn’t have let go so quickly, wouldn’t have been so casual about their mornings together. He would’ve paid attention to the way her fingers tangled in his hair when she kissed him, or how she’d laugh at his terrible jokes. He would’ve memorized the sound of her voice, so that now, in the deafening quiet of his life, he could still hear it.

But she was gone. And all that was left were the memories—and the things she left behind.

For a long moment, Bucky could feel her lying there beside him. If he turned his head to look, he knew he’d see her warmly tucked and curled into the blanket, wearing his favorite hoodie, her eyes wide yet soft as she studied his face. She’d smile—that small, beautiful smile she always had while admiring him quietly. Her gaze would drift over his short hair, her fingers itching to reach out and brush through it like she used to.

But Bucky didn’t dare to look, because he was scared no one would be there. So, he just stared straight up at the ceiling and allowed himself to keep pretending. Pretending that she was still here. Pretending that she’d be there when he woke up, her arms wrapped around him, breathing softly as if she’d never left.

Bucky’s hand trembled as he reached for his phone. Her contact was still pinned to the top, her picture smiling up at him, mocking the ache in his chest. He never changed it, never could.

He had been listening to her voicemail for weeks now. It was the only way he could still hear her voice. Some days, he’d call her number, even though he knew she wouldn’t pick up, just to hear her say, “Hey, it’s Y/N. Sorry I missed your call. Leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you.”

Bucky pressed the voicemail once again, letting it play through the speaker. It was a comfort he couldn’t let go of—like keeping her close for just a little longer.

He listened to the message again. He listened to it on the way home, and several more times before he fell asleep. He listened to it the next morning when he woke up. He listened to it again that night, and the day after that. He listened to it on the days he missed her the most, when the weight of her absence felt too heavy to bear. Just to hear her voice again. To pretend for a few seconds that she was still here.

He listened to her voicemail until he had it memorized. Every pause, every inflection. Until the words played in his head like a song stuck on repeat, and he didn’t need to play it anymore.

But tonight, as he lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, he pressed play again.

“Hey, it’s Y/N. Sorry I missed your call. Leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you.”

He closed his eyes, letting her voice fill the empty spaces she used to occupy. For a few precious moments, it was almost like she hadn’t gone at all.

Bucky’s thumb hovered over her name, just like every other night. But tonight, something felt different. His heart pounded in his chest as he pressed call again, knowing it would go straight to voicemail like it always did.

Only this time, it didn’t.

It didn’t go to voicemail.

Someone picked up.

“Hello? Bucky?”

It was her voice.

His breath caught in his throat, his heart stuttering as everything came crashing down around him. His hand tightened on the phone as if it might slip away, like if he let go for even a second, she’d vanish into the ether. “Y/N?” His voice trembled, barely a whisper.

“Bucky, it’s me,” she said softly, just like she always did when she was reassuring him.

He sat up so fast the room spun around him. “How… how is this… I don’t understand,” he stammered, his mind racing to make sense of the impossible. He could feel the tears welling up, but he didn’t care. She was there. She was talking to him. She was there.

“I don’t know,” she replied, her voice distant yet so familiar, like she was just in the next room, just beyond his reach. “But I’m here.”

Bucky’s throat tightened as tears slipped down his face, but he didn’t wipe them away. “God, I miss you,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. “Every day. I didn’t know—if I had known, Y/N, I would’ve done everything differently. I would’ve told you how much you meant to me every damn day.”

“I know, Bucky,” she soothed. “I know. I miss you too.”

His hands shook, his heart screaming for him to ask her to come back, to be with him again, to tell him this was real. That this wasn’t just a cruel dream. But instead, he whispered, “Where are you?”

There was a long pause on the other end, and for a moment, Bucky thought maybe he had lost her again. But then her voice returned, soft and gentle, like a hand brushing against his cheek. “I’m not far. I’m always with you, even if you can’t see me.”

Bucky’s chest tightened as he clenched the phone harder, desperation clawing at him. “Please… don’t go. Don’t leave me again.”

“I’m not leaving,” she promised, but her voice began to fade, like she was slipping away. “I’ll always be here when you need me. You know how to find me.”

And then the line went dead.

Bucky stared at the phone, his heart hammering, his mind spinning. He hadn’t imagined it. He hadn’t made it up. Y/N had been there. He heard her. He knew he heard her.

But as the minutes ticked by and the silence stretched on, the ache in his chest returned, the crushing weight of loss settling in once again. He laid back down, clutching the phone to his chest, and closed his eyes.

He could almost feel her there beside him.

× × × ×

The next day, Bucky did something he hadn’t done in months: he woke up with a glimmer of hope. His hand immediately reached for his phone, and he pressed call before he could talk himself out of it.

It rang once. Twice.

“Hello?”

Y/N’s voice again. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. “Y/N?”

“I’m here,” she answered, her tone light and familiar, like this was normal. Like she wasn’t supposed to be gone.

The conversation came easier this time. She spoke to him like nothing had changed, like they still had all the time in the world. They laughed, joked about the things that made them them. Y/N even teased him, asking if he’d finally learned how to use the dishwasher properly without her around to supervise.

“The dishes,” Bucky chuckled, the sound rusty, like he hadn’t laughed in ages. “God, I miss those dishes you’d leave in the sink. You’d make a mess, and I’d always be the one to clean it up.”

“I was testing your patience,” she teased, the warmth in her voice making his heart ache.

“And you were good at it,” he murmured. “I miss that. I miss you.”

“I know,” she whispered, her voice softer now. “I miss you too, Buck.”

He called her the next day. And the next. Each time, her voice was there, pulling him back from the edge, lifting the weight of his grief just a little. They didn’t talk about the accident, didn’t talk about what had happened. Instead, they talked about the little things. How she used to steal his hoodies and never give them back. How Bucky would tease her about leaving the cap off the toothpaste, just to watch her roll her eyes. How he missed the way her fingers would brush over his shoulder when she passed by him in the hallway, how she’d hum while cooking breakfast even though she always burned the toast.

Each call, she was there, easing the ache in his chest, making him laugh, making him feel like maybe, just maybe, he could keep going. That maybe, he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

But Bucky knew. Deep down, he knew this couldn’t last forever.

One night, he called her again, just like he had every night before. He expected the same light-hearted voice, the same easy banter. But this time, her voice was quieter, more somber.

“Bucky,” she began softly, and Bucky’s heart clenched, already knowing what was coming. “I have to go soon.”

His breath hitched, the room spinning around him. He had known, he had known, but hearing the words tore through him like a knife.

“No… please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

“I don’t want to,” she said gently, and Bucky could hear the sadness in her voice too. “But it’s time.”

“No, Y/N,” he choked out, his chest tightening with each breath. “I can’t do this without you. I’m not ready. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

“You are,” she insisted, her voice steady even as his world crumbled. “You are ready, Bucky. You’ve always been stronger than you think. You just need to believe it.”

Tears blurred his vision as he gripped the phone tighter, his knuckles white. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You’re not losing me,” she whispered. “I’ll always be with you. In the memories. In the quiet moments. You’ll feel me there, I promise.”

Bucky shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. “I don’t want the memories, Y/N. I just want you.”

“I know,” she whispered, her voice breaking now too. “I know. But this isn’t goodbye. Not really. You’ll carry me with you.”

Bucky’s throat tightened, the panic rising like a tidal wave. He was talking too fast now, his words tripping over themselves, desperate to tell her everything, everything he’d ever held back. “I—I didn’t say it enough, Y/N. I didn’t tell you how much I loved you. Every time I made you coffee in the morning, I was trying to show you. When I stayed up to make sure you got home safe, I should’ve just said it instead of sitting in silence. I should’ve told you how I love your rude interruptions where you kiss me while I was in the middle of saying something. I should’ve told you that every little thing, even the way you left your clothes all over the floor, I loved it. I loved you. All of it.”

“I know, Bucky,” she whispered, and now her voice was breaking, too. “I know you loved me. You didn’t have to say it every day. I felt it. In every little thing you did.”

“But I didn’t say it enough,” he choked out, the tears falling faster now. “And now I can’t. I’ll never be able to say it again. I—”

“Bucky,” she interrupted softly, “you’ll still feel me. My love for you is everywhere. In the blue sky, in the whispers of spring, in the way the leaves fall in autumn. You’ll feel me in the smallest moments—in every little nook of your life. I’ll always be with you.”

Bucky was sobbing now, barely able to catch his breath. “I don’t want the sky, I don’t want whispers, I just want you.” His voice cracked, the pain unbearable. “I need you.”

“I’m everywhere, Bucky,” she whispered. “You’ll never be alone. You just have to look for me.”

He knew she was right. But it didn’t make it any easier. The finality of it hit him like a sledgehammer, crushing him beneath the weight of his grief. “I don’t know how to hang up,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

There was a long silence, and Bucky could feel her, waiting with him, holding on as long as she could. “You’re going to be okay, Bucky,” she said, her voice gentle, though thick with emotion. “I believe in you. I always have.”

Bucky swallowed hard, his thumb trembling over the screen. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw and broken. “I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too, Bucky,” she said softly. “Always.”

His hand shook as he wiped the tears from his face, the phone still pressed to his ear. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t end the call. But he knew he had to.

“Bucky,” Y/N whispered, her voice soft, soothing. “It’s okay. You can do this.”

He inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself, his chest rising and falling in heavy, labored breaths. His fingers trembled as he exhaled slowly, bracing himself for what came next. 

“I don’t want to do this,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I’m not ready.”

“You are,” she reassured him gently. “I’m still with you, Bucky. I’m everywhere, remember? You’ll feel me in the air, in the sun, in every little thing. I’m not really gone.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, tears streaming down his face as he struggled to hold on for just a moment longer. “I need more time,” he choked out, his chest tightening. “I’m not strong enough for this.”

“Yes, you are,” she whispered, her voice full of warmth and love. “You’re stronger than you think. I’m so proud of you. You’ve got this. You can let go.”

He sucked in another breath, his hands trembling as he gripped the phone tighter, as if holding on to her. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, each breath feeling like it might be his last. “I—I don’t want to say goodbye.”

“This isn’t goodbye,” she soothed, her voice like a balm to his frayed heart. “I’m always going to be with you. Just close your eyes and listen for me. I’ll always be there.”

Bucky exhaled shakily, tears slipping down his face. “I love you,” he whispered again, his voice cracking with the weight of it all.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice soft but sure. “And I always will.”

Bucky inhaled deeply, his chest heaving with the effort of bracing himself for what he knew had to come next. He held the phone to his ear, his hand trembling, the weight of the moment crushing him.

“You can do this, Bucky,” Y/N whispered one last time, her voice like a gentle breeze, comforting him in his darkest moment. “I’m right here. You can let go.”

With one final, deep breath, Bucky pressed end call.

The line went silent.

He stared at the phone, his chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven breaths, his vision blurred with tears. It was over. The last call. The last time he’d ever hear her voice.

And this time, as he lay back down on her side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling, he wasn’t pretending.

He was letting go.

[inlovewith505]

this definitely shouldn't have made me cry the way it did.

[edwardcreel]

reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point

[mercurial-chuckles]

🍂 smutty sept fest ask 🍂 

ok, hear me out,, established relationship bucky x female!reader. then, prompt #11 with consensual free-use pass but the reader always pretends to be an innocent little bambi when bucky fucks her in random places at anytime of the day; because she knows bucky has a corruption kink :)

anyway---

Enlivened Mornings

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Wordcount: 2.5k (Yes, I redeemed myself after the previous 16k Mr. Grumpaholic oneshot)

A/N: This is an entry for Smutty September Fest. I did my best @winterarmyy Hope I did justice to your juicy ASK.

Warnings: Mature content, Minors DNI, overloaded fluff (kinda my brand, ya see :D), Hot specimen Bucky, Bucky being a menace, quickie, 'tis just smut my dear hoes, needy Bucky, some curse words, Bucky fucking you nice and good, lemme know if I'm missing anything.

Note: Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part ofsn my work! Banner credits to me and the phot credits to the internet.

Check out my other works: Masterlist

Read Away!

****

The early morning light filtering through the soft curtains of the bedroom pulled Bucky slowly out of the sleepy haze. He stretched his arm, searching. When he didn't find you, he propped onto his elbow, blinking his eyes open to notice the crumpled blanket on the side. He wondered if you were curled up underneath it.

Sometimes, you have a habit of escaping his clutches if he didn't have you wrapped tightly in his arms because you complained he ran hot, no thanks to the serum. Also, the constant libido-appeasing activities you both did don't help your case either.

However, Bucky needs you wrapped around him. His usual tactic would be changing the thermostat to the coldest setting and tugging the blanket off you. He is all too aware that's a bit of an extreme move, but you came crawling into his arms, clutching him tightly, as you should be.

Works every fucking time!

Today, that was not the case. You were not in the bedroom, and Bucky sighed, throwing the blanket away, and focused his ears. The faint sound of rhythmic breathing drifted from the other side of the door, and the need to see you won over the morning inertia, and he walked out of the room in search of you and to drag you back to the bed.

There you were.

In the middle of the sun-kissed room, barefoot on the yoga mat. Dressed in soft, form-fitting sports bra and leggings that hugged your every curve, and hair loosely pulled back in a pony. The morning light played across your skin, casting a soft glow that made you look ethereal—like something out of a dream.

Love has changed Bucky Barnes ineffably. It was truly a testament to the power of love; the nightmares dwindled, and redemption seemed not so far-fetched.

You did that. You have unfathomably filled his heart with so much light that all the shadows of the past diminished under his feet like it's always noontime.

My beautiful girl. His heart screamed, reminding that this was not a dream. You were not a dream.

You were unobservant, and he took his time, devouring everything you.

Despite making fun of your situational awareness all the time, or lack thereof, the truth was that Bucky was downright stealthy and fully aware of it. Stealth is innate to him, makes his job easier, and makes sneaking behind you much more fun.

The way your eyes widen, your heart picks up, and the relief crosses your face upon recognizing him gives Bucky a slight rush, a constant addiction to seeing your relief when you notice him.

He wasn't really proud of how much fun he had irking you. You were fucking adorable. One evening, you barged into the apartment purposefully, thrusting your phone under his nose, and accusing him that he has Cuteness Aggression. Bucky had fun taking you apart against the fridge that night, and what a great night that was.

Bucky let his gaze trace every movement you made—the arch of your back, the bend of your legs, the way your muscles shifted beneath your tight clothes, and the uncovered skin.

He wants to kiss you, lick every tiny inch of your skin, make you beg until your toes curl, and watch you reach the gates of pleasure and beyond, which you let him take you.

It was unreal, the feeling when he is nestled deep inside, and you looked at him with so much love.

Bucky doesn't know what he ever did to deserve you; maybe the redemption did work, and the universe took pity on him. That had to be it, for someone like you to love him with all his scars, emotional and physical.

There was something so intimate, so quietly beautiful about this moment—about watching you all domestic in what he considered his safe haven. Home. Yes, you were home.

You moved into a gentle forward fold, hands gliding down to the floor as you bent over with a soft exhale. Bucky's breath hitched, his heart doing a slow flip as he watched you more; eyes followed the curve of your spine, unable to stop the wave of desire stirred in his chest.

He found his cock twitch, and his mind queued the images of the way your body moved under his command.

With each stretch and bend, transitioning from one yoga pose to another with fluid precision, the need to bury deep inside you while you sing his praises and beg him overpowered. Then, you inhaled deeply and exhaled, moving into a downward dog pose.

Fucking hell.

He finally snapped out of his trance.

An almost animalistic groan reverberates in his chest.

~

Startled by the sudden noise, you turn over your shoulder. Bucky was leaning against the door frame, legs crossed and arms folded, in only his black joggers. A relief spreads over you as you smile at him widely, not breaking your pose.

"Morning," you tease lightly, wiggling your legs slightly to balance yourself from becoming a puddle watching him in all his sexiness.

It had been a whole three days since you saw him. Last night, he told you he would be home soon and asked you not to wait up, but you always did. The need to see him safe and sound after he comes home from missions is perfunctory at this point and eases your mind.

Well, he did get late because you tried keeping yourself awake, but as you snuggled on the couch watching Tangled, the day's toll and the fact that Bucky's safe and sound coming home to you melted all your worries away.

You inadvertently let the sleep consume you from the pattering sounds of the rain on the windows, and the occasional thunder lulled you deeper.

When you woke up, you found yourself wrapped in his arms. His right arm found its way under your shirt, his warm, large palm cupped your tit, and his muscular thigh lodged dangerously close to your panty-covered pussy.

If you had let your lust-hazed mind take the reins, you probably would have moved a bit closer to his thigh and rubbed yourself or woken him up in other ways you know he enjoys.

However, you know he hardly slept on missions. So, you let him get some more rest.

Now, looking at Bucky, watch you with that look you are too familiar with has your thighs clench involuntarily, and he notices.

Bucky's steely gaze narrows on your form, and his lips twitch with an all-knowing grin. He pushes himself off the wall and purposefully strides toward you.

He stands behind you, and you try to stand up, needing to hug him and revive the taste of his lips in your mind, but he stymies your efforts.

Placing his large palm on the small of your back and pressing it firmly, "Don't stop on my account. I like this view," he sniggers, voice still raspy from sleep, sending a jolt through your body.

Bucky's hand moves to your waist, tracing his fingertips on your exposed skin. Your breath quickens, coming in puffs, and the heat spreads across your body.

You feel your eyes close on their own accord as he moves his fingers deftly; skin singes at his touch.

His palm moves down to your ass, and he squeezes, making your belly flutter, and you sigh in delight.

"Missed me?" he questions, moving forward to hover over your entire form, and his hard bulge rubs on the cleft of your ass. He places his chin on your right shoulder, nuzzling his stubble on your throat, and you turn to capture his lips, but he inches away to kiss your ear.

He runs his metal palm on your inner thighs, slowly inching them up to your belly. The cold fingers send you reeling, and the familiar bubble of need builds, spreading through your body as he moves fingers inside your panties; all too soon, he retracts his fingers.

"Bucky," you whine desperately. He brings down the palm on your ass and spanks you.

"Ahhh fuck," your moan resounds obscenely, lacing through the pureness of the morning and the sudden force of his hand have you collapsing, and your knees gravitate to the ground. The impact is cushioned by a pillow, which you have no idea when he placed it. Thankfully, his metal arm holds your shoulders, and you find your balance.

Heat spreads across your lower belly, and you clench at nothing. You were drenched and slightly embarrassed at how quickly he got you there.

Bucky rubs your other ass cheek and hits you with much more force. The moan you let out was desperate, decadent even, and you were barely conscious about the window to your balcony, which you left open for some fresh air.

Bucky chuckles darkly, and you know you are in for it.

He hooks his thumbs, moves inside your leggings and panties, and yanks them down. You yelp at the suddenness, and the unmistakable tearing sound of the fabric tells you the demise of your leggings. Another one notwithstanding his strength.

You looked over your shoulder only to see him crouch and rub his fingers all the way from the back of your ass to the front, backhanding your pussy and you mewl.

"I'll ensure you get all the stretching," he vows, running one palm from the back of your thigh and up. You feel the skin prickle under his touch as he rubs your ass and moves it up your spine all the way to the nape of your neck. He twists his palm into your hair and yanks; the painful pleasure has you squeaking.

"Mine to ruin, aren't ya, doll?" He remarks as you feel him wrap his metal arm around your waist, enveloping you completely, and rut himself into you. The first touch had you stumble forward, but thanks to his grip, you didn't faceplant onto the mat.

Bucky waited a second longer to give you a semblance of control if you wanted to use your safeword, which he often did when he got in a dominant mode. All you feel in that moment is love and the lascivious need for him.

You want to shout, "Fuck me already," but you stay silent, knowing full well he would make it a point to edge you.

Bucky has a multitude of moods; most often, he just wants to have physical touch; sometimes, he needs control when he fucks you without any volition, anytime, anywhere, within reason, of course. You love it when he gets that way, and he is plenty aware and plays you like a fiddle.

Gazing over your shoulder, you simply roll your hips, encouraging him. His wolfish grin makes you shudder.

Oh, boy!

Bucky places a kiss on your exposed skin on the back and nips, making you squirm. His stubble tickles the side of your neck as he nuzzles a bit into your skin before straightening up, and with one practiced thrust, he was inside you, and you felt your body constrict. "Nghhhh, fuck," he groans loudly, and you gasp for breath.

The unease with the sudden intrusion slowly passes away when he waits a beat longer before he sets a pace that feels inhuman, superhuman even, like he was.

"Good girl," Bucky grunts. You would have nodded like a bobblehead if he didn't have your hair gripped tightly.

Undoubtedly, your neighbors must know by now you both were having a really good morning.

Bucky yanks you up, and you are now against his chest, purely with his support, ankles hanging in the air as he fucks into you from behind. You cry at the angle his cock touches your sensitive spot.

He stops suddenly, "Bucky, please," you snivel.

"Not stopping for the world," he promises, "just need to see you, sweetheart," he mutters, turning you suddenly, and you flail unsteadily. He dexterously lowers you gently onto the mat, sets the pillow underneath your hips and kneels before you.

Staring into the darkened blue eyes in daylight always awes you. A ray of sunlight dances on his cheek, highlighting his face, and you preen.

He was so gorgeous, enchanting.

Bucky licks his lips and parts them, clutching your wrists in his large palm, groaning as he enters you, your eyes shut, mouth gaping open as he leans more into you in a plank position, putting just a bit of weight on you.

His bed hair calls you to tug at it, which you know he loves, but he holds you firmly, shaking his head warningly as you try to get out of his grip.

"Missed you so fucking much," Bucky roars. You look at him with those wide eyes, biting your lip, the almost innocent gaze you give him, making him lose his tether of control as he curses, tapping your thighs, and you obey, winding your legs around him, and he fucks you with much more vigor.

"My fucking precious doll," he purrs, lips ghosting your open mouth. His cock repeatedly pounces into that spot, making you cry. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping at it and sending shivers to your core.

Everything builds up, and you reach the edge of orgasm, eyes rolling. You clench delightfully, body contracting, belly tightening.

He shifts, propelling his weight slightly onto you, and moves his right arm between your bodies to pinch your clit, and you cum, milking him. "Oh, fuck," he shouts, holding your chin and taps your cheek.

"Gripping me so good," he hisses, gritting his teeth, rubbing your overstimulated clit.

As you come down, heavily breathing, he pulls you into a searing hot kiss, stealing your breath away.

"Mmm… take it," he orders, and you become aware of the coil tightening. You focus on the pleasure building quickly inside your belly.

His fullness, the way he grunts, holding you close, and the way he looks at you have you reaching the edge the second time.

"Aww, look at you," he whispers, almost condescendingly, into your ear. Bucky doesn't slow his pace, still thrusting into you.

You were surely going to take the day off. You think as your eyes close shut at the building pressure.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart," Bucky rasps deeply, and your eyes roll in pleasure, unable to comply.

"I said," he leaves your wrists and places his forearms beside your head, "Eyes." Thrust. "on." Grind. "Me," Thrust.

You marshal everything in you to focus your eyes on him. His darkened gaze, that slight knowing smirk had you falling, and he loses it, hips stuttering, his cum painting all over your thighs and pussy.

After a few moments of stillness, he leans forward, putting his weight on you, and you both breathe into each other, trying to steady your breath. He rolls his hips slightly, and you squeal.

"Now, do you wanna come to bed?" he interposes smugly as he kisses your jaw. "Or do you need more yoga?" his jubilance has you rolling your eyes dramatically. Yet, you know you are going to follow him into the damn bed anyways.

Temptation. Yes, that's what Bucky was. Pure six-foot, blue-eyed, brunette temptation, and he was all yours.

****

Ahhhh... I'mma take a dip in the cold water, my dearies.

How was it?

Phew! I hope it tickled your pickle :)

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Thanks for the wonderful support! Forever grateful!

[inlovewith505]

I think I'm gonna go with you, a dip in the cold (preferably holy) water sounds like a very nice offer

[sinner-as-saint]

My Favorite Kind Of Night Series - COMPLETED.

Camboy!Bucky Barnes x CEO!Reader

Run-through: On Friday nights, you are punctual to your virtual meet-up with your favorite camboy over a streaming platform, for your private stream session. You’ve known him for a couple of months now. He goes by the alias of ‘Winter Soldier’ on the platform, which is perfect for the kind of man he is; brawny and drop dead gorgeous. Over the past few months, he has become your favorite kind of night. And secretly, you became his as well. You two get closer over time, and things get interesting when your real, professional lives gets intertwined.

Themes throughout the series: sex worker!bucky, smut, phone sex, fluff, language, dirty talk

My Favorite Kind Of Night: COMPLETED.

Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 3 

Part 4 

Part 5 

Part 6 

[sinner-as-saint]

My Favorite Kind Of Night Series - COMPLETED.

Camboy!Bucky Barnes x CEO!Reader

Run-through: On Friday nights, you are punctual to your virtual meet-up with your favorite camboy over a streaming platform, for your private stream session. You’ve known him for a couple of months now. He goes by the alias of ‘Winter Soldier’ on the platform, which is perfect for the kind of man he is; brawny and drop dead gorgeous. Over the past few months, he has become your favorite kind of night. And secretly, you became his as well. You two get closer over time, and things get interesting when your real, professional lives gets intertwined.

Themes throughout the series: sex worker!bucky, smut, phone sex, fluff, language, dirty talk

My Favorite Kind Of Night: COMPLETED.

Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 3 

Part 4 

Part 5 

Part 6 

[witchywithwhiskey]

🔪 Slasher 🔪 Choose Your Own Ending

pairing: DARK horror movie villain!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: somehow, you end up in your favorite old horror movie, and you decide to take the opportunity to fulfill one of your fantasies—you're gonna fuck the villain, bucky barnes.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), dark themes and elements, typical horror movie violence (blood, murder, some gruesome descriptions), smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, unsafe sadist/masochist dynamic (reader is into it but there are no safe words), dry humping, knife kink, size kink, chase kink, oral sex (m receiving), rough sex, rough body play, light spanking, choking, breath play, bratting/brat taming (reader is slightly unhinged), dirty talk, degradation kink, praise kink, boot riding, dacryphilia, pet names (cottontail, baby), reader passes out during sex, possessive behavior

word count: 13.3k total (11.6k with only the dark ending; 11.9k with only the fluffy ending)

a/n: i really didn't know if i'd be able to finish this fic in time for the end of my Slasher Summer challenge because it's probably one of the most ambitious fics i've ever attempted. it's loosely inspired by the movie The Final Girls (highly recommend) but i couldn't decide how i wanted it to end, so y'all get TWO ENDINGS!! both are included here, with additional warnings down below. i worked really hard on this, so i really hope y'all enjoy!!! 😅

The last thing you remembered was the feel of fuzzy static on your tongue, fizzling through your arms and legs and making you feel like every nerve ending in your body was buzzing to life. You had a vague memory of licking something you probably shouldn’t have, but then your ears popped and you felt solid ground beneath your feet.

Staticky silence was suddenly replaced by shrill screams of excitement and the mechanical whirring of carnival rides. The rich scents of funnel cakes and popcorn and cotton candy filled your nose, making your mouth water with the desire to eat your weight in fried food.

Blinking your eyes open—not remembering when you’d closed them—you were met with the entrance to the Bakersfield Fun Fair. The big banner declaring the name of the carnival sparked a hazy recognition deep in your mind, but when you looked around, you didn’t quite recognize where you were, and you had no memory of how you’d gotten there. 

Still, something about the fairground, with its ticket booth and carnival rides and all kinds of stalls selling food or touting games to play for prizes, felt familiar. Like you’d seen it in a dream, or when you were a child the memory was a distant thing. 

Muggy summer air brushed against your skin with a soft breeze that helped to alleviate the worst of the heat, the air holding a hint of chill as the sun set on the distant horizon. It cast everything you could see, which was mainly just the carnival and the grassy field being used for a parking lot, in a golden glow. 

Finally, it occurred to you to look down at yourself, finding that you were wearing cutoff jean shorts and a plain tank top—neither of which you recognized. 

The confusion you’d held at bay suddenly overwhelmed you, making you feel as dizzy as if you’d just ridden the tilt-a-whirl, which you somehow knew was nestled somewhere in the fairgrounds. Your stomach lurched as your mind tried to make sense of where you were and how you’d gotten there. You closed your eyes and tried to think. 

As you concentrated, memories began to surface in your mind, like you were dragging them up from the depths of a deep, murky lake. 

It wasn’t summer. It was fall, you remembered, and just moments before you’d been curled up on the worn, aged rug in your grandmother’s basement. You were housesitting for her while she was on a cruise. 

You remembered closing your laptop, heaving a huge sigh of relief at finishing work for the day, then going down into the basement. You’d spent countless hours there as a teenager watching movies on the big, boxy TV set, the kind where you could feel the static if you put your hand against the screen. Your favorite movies to watch were the horror ones…

That was it! 

That was why Bakersfield and the carnival seemed so familiar. Bakersfield was the small town terrorized by the ruthless villain in your favorite horror movie, Slasher, and the final act’s killing spree took place at the town’s annual end of summer carnival. The Bakersfield Fun Fair.

And the villain was Bucky Barnes, a psychotic killer with a sadistic sense of humor and piercing blue eyes. 

You’d had a crush on him when you’d first watched Slasher as a teenager, and your attraction to him remained even well into your adult years. You’d decided to put the movie on because you’d been lonely at your grandmother’s, figuring a night with your favorite horror movie slasher would be the closest thing to a date you could get.

Once you remembered that, the rest of it came back to you. You’d been curled up on the rug in front of the TV, and your favorite scene had come on. It was the one where Bucky is cleaning a bullet wound in his shoulder—given to him by the movie’s mean girl, right before he brutally stabs her in the head—and he had his shirt off, showing the broad expanse of his muscled chest.

It hadn’t been your finest moment, but you were lonely and you got it into your head to lick the screen of the TV over Bucky’s bare chest. And then, that was it. That was all you remembered—and the feeling of static on your tongue.

Opening your eyes, you looked up at the banner again. You blinked. And blinked again. Then you pinched yourself. You didn’t wake up. 

The sign still read Bakersfield Fun Fair. But…that was impossible.

Your jaw went slack as you looked around—really looked at your surroundings.

In the time that you’d spent figuring out where you were, the sun had dipped behind the tops of the trees in the forest beyond the fairground, turning the sky pink and orange, fading into a deep cerulean. There was a ferris wheel in the distance, and the canopy top of a carousel off to the side. 

There were lines of stalls stretching in both directions beyond the entrance to the fair, some with ring toss games and others with milk bottles to be knocked over. Other stalls were selling all kinds of junk food, from cotton candy to candy apples. 

Everything looked and sounded and smelled real. You could practically taste the funnel cake on your tongue, and feel the powered sugar-covered fried dough melting in your mouth. You could clearly see the faces of all the people milling around the fair, kids breaking off with hands clasped tight around their tickets as they went running down the various rows of stalls. 

And the closer you looked, the more realized everything was dated. The clothes, the rides, the toy prizes. Everything looked like it was from the early 90s, when Slasher was made. Even your own clothes and the tennis shoes on your feet looked like they were out of the 90s. 

It was bizarre, and yet, it didn’t feel like a dream. But it had to be a dream. Right?

Spinning around in a circle, you decided that had to be the case. It was the only thing that made sense. It’s not like you could’ve been transported into the world of your favorite horror movie. Stuff like that didn’t happen; it broke all rules of physics and other science stuff you didn’t understand.

Deciding to just roll with it and enjoy your dream, you shrugged off your confusion and headed into the Bakersfield Fun Fair. While you meandered down one of the lines of stalls, you wondered if you’d see any of the characters from the movie. You wondered if you’d see Bucky. 

You almost tripped over the grass beneath your feet at the thought, your heart speeding up in your chest and beating excitedly against your rib cage as you considered the possibility of actually meeting your biggest horror movie crush. 

But your mind didn’t stop there. Oh no. You were the girl who’d decided to lick an old, staticky TV because it was the closest you thought you’d ever get to licking Bucky’s bare chest. 

Naturally, your mind took the thought of meeting him much further and you thought about fulfilling one of your most cherished fantasies. If you were in the world of Slasher, you wanted to fuck Bucky Barnes. 

Before you’d ended up at the Bakersfield Fun Fair, in some ultra-realistic dream, the closest you could’ve gotten was finding a guy who looked like Bucky Barnes and try to convince him to wear the Slasher mask while chasing you through the woods. 

But you’d found yourself in the world of your favorite horror movie—whether by way of your subconscious dreaming about it, or some breakdown of the space-time continuum—and you had the chance to fuck the actual Bucky Barnes. Giddy excitement flooded through you, and you began skipping down the line of carnival stalls, trying to remember what exactly happens in the final act of Slasher.

It probably should’ve worried you how unconcerned you were with the possibility that Bucky could kill you before you even got started trying to convince him to fuck you. But it was your dream, so what was the worst that could happen? If he killed you, you’d just wake up horny and dissatisfied, right? Then, you’d have to take care of yourself, which wasn’t any different to any other day of your life.

Nah, you were almost entirely certain you were in a dream, and because it was your dream, you wouldn’t have too much trouble getting Bucky to fuck you. You just had to find him…

As if right on cue, screams erupted from the opposite end of the fairground, and it sparked your memory. The action at the end of Slasher ramps up when Bucky storms the Bakersfield Fun Fair and the final girl, along with the remainder of her friends, try to set a trap for him. 

Trying to hid your giddy grin, you raced through the fairground, heading in the direction of the screams. Since you’d remembered the beginning of the end of the movie, you couldn’t help but think about what else happens. Bucky carves through the final girl’s friends one by one in various, gruesome ways on the carnival rides at the fair. Then, the final girl eventually traps him by crushing his arm in the gears of the carousel. 

Bucky doesn’t die, of course. He comes back in the sequel, Slasher II, and sports a metal arm that glimmers in the moonlight while he stalks the final girl around Bakersfield all over again. It’s not nearly as good as the first movie, but Bucky is still very hot, and you watched the sequel nearly as many times as the original when you were a teenager.

You were so distracted by thoughts of Bucky’s prosthetic arm, and what it would feel like to have his metal hand wrapped around your throat while he fucked you, that you didn’t realize you were suddenly alone in the fairground, and you’d made it to the Tunnel of Love ride. 

It was then that you spotted the macabre scene of the final girl’s best friend—you couldn’t remember the character’s name, it was something boring like John—with his heart ripped out of his chest and held in his limp, dead hands. His lifeless eyes stared unseeingly ahead, looking almost like a movie prop, but so, so much more real.

This particular kill was one of Slasher’s most controversial, you remembered. Half the cult fandom argued it was too on the nose, since the movie heavily implied John was in love with the movie’s final girl and never found the courage to tell her. The other half of the fandom enjoyed the tragic romance of it. 

Personally, you didn’t care much about the kills or the drama between the final girl and the other characters. You really only watched Slasher for Bucky, and only cared about the creativity of the murders when he looked particularly hot doing them. 

Your mind whirled as you stared at John’s dead body, your brain focusing on the Slasher message boards you’d trawled well into your college years, rather than trying to make sense of the horrible sight in front of you. It really, really looked like real blood soaking his clothes—and you could even smell the coppery tang of it in the air.

Instinctively, you took a step back, the grass of the fairground soft beneath your feet. The sun had slipped fully behind the trees of the forest beyond the fairground, casting long, ominous shadows over the scene. Your heart beat harder in your chest, and you took another step back, as if putting room between you and the horrific sight in front of you would somehow make it easier to reconcile.

You took one more step backward and bumped into something solid, something that you knew deep in your bones shouldn’t be there.

The smell of blood was stronger suddenly, mixing with an earthy, spicy scent that didn’t make sense for the carnival fairground. Holding your breath, you slowly looked over your shoulder and were met with the sight of a black leather-clad chest. 

Already, you knew it was him. But you dragged your eyes up and sucked in a gasp when you met the piercing blue gaze of Bucky Barnes.

His eyes were filled with a cold hatred that was so visceral, it made your stomach twist in a way that was not entirely unpleasant. Inexplicably, warmth bloomed low in your core, unfurling and reacting to the villain’s presence. Finally, you were face to face with your biggest horror movie crush, and you couldn’t help but take a moment to take all of him in.

Bucky Barnes was even bigger and more intimidating than he seemed on your TV screen, and he was more handsome too. His eyes were an electric blue, the color so bright, it seemed like it glowed from within. And his chin-length brown hair fell on either side of his face, highlighting the strong line of his brow and the intensity of his gaze.

The villain’s mouth and nose were covered by the hard plastic mask that matched the utilitarian leather jacket and combat pants he wore with thick, heavy boots. There were straps on the leather jacket that spanned his broad shoulders, and a utility belt around his trim waist where he secured the various knives and weapons he used throughout the movie.

Looking up at his face again, you realized Bucky was so much taller than you expected, standing behind you like a mountain of cold hatred, radiating danger and menace. Unfortunately for you, that only made the heat simmering in your belly burn hotter until you were squeezing your thighs together against the ache building there. 

You knew your body’s reaction to the psychotic murderer was foolish, to say the least, but there was something about the dangerous man that made your heart beat harder, and made you want to spread your legs for him. 

Glancing down to Bucky’s hand, you saw the big butcher’s knife dangling from his fingers. He hadn’t raised it yet, and when you looked back into his eyes, the villain seemed to be watching you closely, as if wondering how you were going to react to him. 

The longer you went without screaming or running away from him, the more his brows lowered over his eyes. He began to look perplexed.

That was fine, you could work with perplexed.

Carefully, as if dealing with an animal you didn’t want to spook, you turned around and set your hands gently on Bucky’s massive chest, your fingertips toying idly with the leather straps on his jacket. Holding his gaze with your own, you slid your hands up to his shoulders and pushed yourself up onto you tiptoes so you could twine your arms around his neck, as if he were your boyfriend and you were welcoming him home.

“Hi,” you murmured, your voice coming out breathy as your heart beat wildly in your chest. You fluttered your lashes at Bucky, figuring that if you didn’t treat him like a threat, he wouldn’t be. And so far, it was working.

The horror villain didn’t seem inclined to respond to your shy greeting, so you pressed yourself close to him, enjoying the feel of his hard body against your soft one. Arching your spine, you pushed your tits up in your tank top, as if offering them to him. 

You were gratified when Bucky’s gaze dropped to your lightly heaving chest, and felt his empty hand twitch against your bare thigh, like he wanted to touch you but was holding himself back. Not that you needed him to touch you to know he was enjoying the feel of you against him.

Bucky’s bulge was already digging into your lower stomach, and you suspected he’d already been hard before you’d pressed against him. But still, you were gratified when, every time you shifted against him, he twitched in his pants, his cock eagerly responding to you. 

The interest of Bucky’s cock had a smile spreading across your face, making you look like the cat who got the cream as you tipped your head back and grinned shamelessly up at the horror movie villain.

“Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” you purred, rocking your body against Bucky’s bulge and pressing your chest more tightly to his leather jacket. You were practically rubbing on him like a cat in heat, but you couldn’t stop yourself. It felt too good to feel his solid, sturdy form against you.

As you shifted closer, you could feel the tackiness of blood on your arms and chest, and when you glanced down, you saw that some had stuck to you from Bucky’s jacket. It was odd to see the blood on your skin, but it felt like another reminder of what you were doing—and, especially, who you were doing it with. 

Fire was blazing through your veins as you cast your hooded eyes on Bucky’s face, your mouth going soft as you met his piercing gaze. There was a cold flame in the depths of his blue eyes, one you’d never seen in all the times you’d watched Slasher, and it filled you with pride to realize Bucky liked having you pressed against him. 

In response to your question, which you’d almost forgotten in the seconds after it passed your lips, Bucky huffed a laugh behind his mask. Then his hands were on your ass, and he was grabbing your soft flesh with an unyielding grip. He hiked you up higher against his chest, using his inhuman strength, and your legs fell open instinctively, so his thick bulge dug into the juncture of your thighs. 

A wanton moan fell from your lips, your head falling back as you rocked your hips in tiny circles, grinding on Bucky’s hard cock through your clothes. You could feel the flat steel of his knife pressed to the back of your thigh, and your core pulsed at the weapon’s proximity to your most sensitive place, but you didn’t have any worry he was going to use it on you—not when he was staring at you with such a greedy look in his eyes.

Bucky growled out, “Dumb slut,” as his fingers dug into your ass through your jean shorts, but you were too distracted by humping against the mountain of a man, pleasure swirling through your body and filling your head with cotton candy nothing. 

All that mattered was grinding against Bucky’s bulge, and the fact that you were finally—finally—getting to live out your darkest fantasies of fucking the horror movie villain.

“Y’know, I always wondered if killing made your cock hard,” you murmured breathlessly, catching Bucky’s eye and giving him a cheeky grin. “Guess I have my answer now.” You dragged the seam of your shorts up the thick length of Bucky’s cock, drawing a growl from him, your smile spreading wider. “Unless you just have a soft spot for dumb sluts like me,” you said, giggling at your own joke and batting your lashes at him.

Bucky shook his head at you, but not like he was disagreeing with you—more like he was already exasperated with your antics. 

“I thought I already killed this town’s biggest slut,” Bucky ground out, and though you couldn’t see his mouth or jaw, you somehow knew he was grinding his teeth. His fingers dug harder into your ass, his grip nearly punishing as you squirmed against him. 

You found an angle that had your clit rubbing against the tip of Bucky’s cock through your clothes and you let your head fall back, a filthy moan spilling from your lips. The obscene sound rose toward the darkening sky above the fairgrounds, loud against the silence that had fallen over the deserted carnival.

When you managed to get control of your tongue again, and pick up the thread of your conversation, you shot Bucky another grin.

“I’m not from Bakersfield,” you purred, pulling yourself closer to Bucky’s face, until your lips were nearly brushing against the hard plastic of his mask. You could feel his breath, hot and heavy, gusting through the slots on the front, making you shiver. Your expression settled into one of fake seriousness as you stared him in the eye. “And you have no idea how much of a slut I can be.”

A growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest, and his blue eyes narrowed on you, like a predator deciding on its prey. 

“Is that a challenge or an invitation, little cottontail?”

He slapped your ass with the flat of his knife, an obvious instruction to keep humping against him. 

As you followed the order, you choked out a one word answer, “Both!” Then bit your lip against a moan, hiding your delight at the nickname—and your surprise that Bucky would call you anything so sweet. 

But you didn’t seem to be grinding against him hard enough, because he dragged the sharp edge of his knife over the backs of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your ass. He didn’t press hard enough to break skin, but you could feel the threat in the gesture.

You lost the battle against trembling in the big, horror movie villain’s arms, and whimpered, rocking against him harder as a single tear leaked down your cheek. Pleasure was pulsing through your body, hard and fast, the same rhythm in which your heart beat in your chest.

Bucky rumbled a sound of pleasure, his blue eyes going molten as he watched the tear track down your face. He seemed to have forgotten your conversation entirely, more focused on your smaller body humping against his larger one.

You had long since soaked through your panties, and you could feel your arousal leaking through your shorts, coating your inner thighs in your wetness. But dry humping with Bucky wasn’t what you had in mind when you’d fantasized about the horror movie villain through most of your adult years. You needed more, and you had just the idea—a fantasy you’d long wanted to fulfill. With Bucky Barnes especially.

“I know you’re sort of busy, killing and all that,” you huffed, your body straining to keep rocking against his thick length with the speed he desired. “But I was wondering if you might want to take a break and play a game with me?” Your voice was hopelessly breathless and breathlessly hopeful, the pleading in your tone blatant as your words pitched higher with your question. 

Bucky’s brows lowered in confusion. “What kind of game?” came his rumbling, distorted voice from behind his mask.

With a flash of a smirk, you shifted one hand to his shoulder, where you remembered the bullet wound would be beneath his jacket. You could feel the slight raise of the bandages beneath the leather, and you dug your thumb into the spot. You were rewarded by a vicious growl and Bucky’s hands falling away from your ass, the cold steel of his knife disappearing from your skin.

Hopping down, you danced a few feet away from the now-enraged psychopathic killer, making sure you were beyond the reach of his long arms, including the length of his knife before you stopped. Something in your core tightened with excitement when Bucky’s cold, blue eyes focused entirely on you. Even the sight of him shaking out his arm seemed somehow threatening. 

You could see the dark stain of deep red blood in the black leather of his jacket, and couldn’t help but grin. You’d unleashed the darkest side of him, and you couldn’t be more giddy.

You knew Bucky had been holding back on you while you’d been in his arms. But you didn’t want to fuck a horror movie villain because you wanted some harmless dry humping. You wanted him to wreck you. You wanted him to hunt you down and make you his.

“The game is this,” you began, skipping back a few steps when Bucky lunged for you—though you noticed he reached for you with his free hand, rather than his knife, which you took as a good sign and grinned wider. “If you catch me, you can fuck me.” You held his gaze, your smile turning a little feral as you watched the seething villain. “As hard and as rough as you want.”

Your final words made Bucky pause, like a predator going still right before launching itself at its prey. His electric blue eyes shone brighter, reflecting the neon lights of the carnival as they fall across his handsome face. 

You could feel the energy in him shift, and even though you couldn’t see his mouth, you somehow knew he was grinning. You suspected it was even more feral than your own smile.  

“You really are the dumbest fucking slut, little cottontail,” Bucky growled, equal parts humor and menace in his tone, sending a delicious shiver skating down your spine. He took a step forward, his eyes sharp as they watched you skip backward, staying out of reach of his hand and his knife. “You better not let me catch you, baby, because if I do, I’m going to make you scream bloody murder as I split you open with my cock.”

The grin on your face was so wide it was beginning to make your cheeks hurt, but you couldn’t wipe it away even if you’d tried. Your entire body was buzzing with anticipation, adrenaline already pumping through your veins as you prepared to run. But you couldn’t help yourself, you had to taunt Bucky just a little more. If you were only going to get one chance to fuck your horror movie villain crush, you were going to make it count.

“Bet you say that to all the girls—bet none of them can scream like me,” you sassed, bouncing on the balls of your feet and scampering back a few more steps when Bucky took another menacing step forward, his big, heavy boot crunching the grass beneath him. 

You laughed at his scowling face, the sound loud and wild in the quiet that had fallen over the fairgrounds. Even the music of the carousel had gone silent. But you couldn’t hold your tongue. You loved the look of danger on Bucky’s face too much.

“You gotta catch me first, Mr. Slasher, then we’ll see if you can make me scream.”

With that parting challenge, you gave Bucky one last cheeky, impertinent smile, and the you turned and took off. 

Sprinting off into the Bakersfield Fun Fair, you didn’t dare look behind you, knowing instinctively that Bucky would be close on your heels. Your mind raced as you tried to form some kind of plan, since you hadn’t thought this far ahead. 

Of course, you had every intention of letting Bucky catch you, but you didn’t want to make it too easy for him. Besides, you’d always wanted to be chased by the hot horror movie villain, then overpowered and taken by the brutal man, so you wanted to make sure you enjoyed yourself as well.

As you turned a corner and began running down a row of carnival rides and games on the edge of the fairground, you spotted the funhouse in front of you. Grinning wildly, you pushed to run a little harder and launched yourself up the metal stairs leading into the funhouse.

There was a spinning barrel right away, and you clambered through it, the silence inside the funhouse swallowing you up as you plunged into the depths of the structure. Hauling yourself up a flight of stairs, you stumbled to a stop when you found that the interior of the funhouse was a maze of mirrors.

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as you began moving through the maze, your hands outstretched to feel your way between the mirrors. Too soon, you heard Bucky’s heavy footsteps on the metal stairs leading up to the level with the maze and you tried to scurry faster, but you kept bumping into mirrors thinking they were a clear path forward.

A deep, dark chuckle echoed through the stuffy room in the funhouse, the sound distorted through Bucky’s mask, making him truly sound like a horror movie villain. 

The sound of his laugh sent a shiver racing down your spine, your heart rate picking up as you heard his heavy boots begin walking through the maze. It seemed like he was moving much faster than you and you tried to pick up your pace.

“When I get my hands on you, little cottontail,” Bucky began, his menacing voice filtering to you easily, sounding like he was right behind you. “You’re going to regret being such a dumb slut—I’m going to destroy your tight holes with my cock and ruin you until you’re all mine.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time!” you called over your shoulder, just before barreling into another mirror with a defeated, “oof,” as you tried to escape the maze. 

Huffing in frustration, you turned and went down another path, your panicked breaths so loud in your ears, you couldn’t hear Bucky’s footsteps anymore. You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, but your lungs protested, your pounding heart making you feel the blood pumping through your veins with every step you took.

“If you’re a good slut, maybe I won’t kill you,” Bucky rumbled, his voice definitely closer than it should be, and you whipped around, looking for the source. But he was no where in sight. “Maybe I’ll keep you—chain you up in my basement, and use your body like the fuck hole you were meant to be.”

You tried to ignore the way your pussy quivered at Bucky’s threat, your body wanting him to do exactly that. But you pushed on, though you were having a harder and harder time remembering why you didn’t want him to catch you. Your panties were soaked and your hole was aching to be filled. And Bucky seemed more than willing to fuck you until you were nothing more than the dumb slut he accused you of being.

Rounding a corner, you gasped loudly as the massive form of Bucky Barnes loomed in front of you, his blue eyes immediately finding yours and making you feel like prey trapped by a much larger predator. 

Spinning on the ball of your foot, you turned and tried to escape in the other direction, only to run head first into Bucky’s chest. His arms closed around you, and you belatedly realized the Bucky you’d seen had been a reflection in one of the mirrors. He wasted no time, squeezing you so tight to his body that you cried out, his strength forcing the air from your lungs. You were caught.

“I win, little cottontail,” Bucky sneered, crushing you harder to his chest while you struggled to breathe, your ribs feeling like they were on the verge of snapping.

Then, suddenly, he let you go and you slumped to your knees, your legs giving out as you fell to the metal floor of the funhouse. Your head was spinning from the lack of air and you focused on pulling as much oxygen into your lungs as possible, the adrenaline in your body making you feel your heartbeat in your temples. 

While you were distracted, Bucky quickly worked his pants open and before you knew what was happening, his thick, heavy cock fell on your face with a lewd slapping sound. You flinched. But then Bucky’s musky scent filled your nose, and you relaxed. Warmth spread through your body as your mind went fuzzy for an entirely different reason than lack of oxygen. 

Your mouth fell open instinctively, your head tipping back to press your lips to his girth, and you felt more wetness dripping from your slit between your thighs. 

Bucky chuckled at your obvious submission, but still used the flat tip of his knife to tip your face back further, until it was practically horizontal. He worked his hips languidly, sliding his cock over your face, precum dripping onto your skin and making a mess of your cheeks and forehead.

“Open your mouth wider, dumb slut,” Bucky growled, his eyes glittering in the dim funhouse as he stared down at you. 

When you did as he ordered, sticking your tongue out for good measure, the tip playing with his balls, the horror villain made a pleased sound deep in his chest. You had the distinct impression he was smiling again, and you almost dared to ask him to take off the mask, but decided against it. Part of the fun of fucking Bucky Barnes was him keeping the mask on. 

“Good girl,” Bucky purred, petting your head with his free hand. He dragged his hips back and pushed the leaking head of his dick into your mouth. “Now, suck.”

The metal flooring of the funhouse dug painfully into your knees, but you pushed the pain from your mind as you focused entirely on Bucky’s cock. Wrapping your lips around the head, you sucked gently, the taste of his precum bursting on your tongue. Your chest warmed with pride when he groaned in pleasure.

You’d intended to take your time—wanting to savor Bucky’s cock and learn every inch of the thick, veiny length before making him come in your mouth. But it seemed your horror movie crush didn’t have the patience for that. You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised. You did make him chase you. 

“Is that all ya got, little cottontail?” Bucky growled, using the hand on your head to push you down roughly on his cock, making you gag, your hands flailing against his hard thighs. “I thought you were some kind of slut—thought you’d be throating my cock the second you got your lips around it.” 

Tears poured down your cheeks as he pushed deeper with a grunt, your fingers curling into fists against his thighs as you tried to open for him. Bucky’s cock forcing its way into your throat stung a little, and you worked to relax your muscles, but they kept squeezing tight, preventing his hard length from sliding all the way in.

Finally, Bucky pulled his cock free from your mouth and you gasped for breath, a hand massaging your throat, the inside feeling raw already. But Bucky didn’t seem to care. 

He bent down over you, grabbing your face in his free hand and using the sharp end of his knife to wipe the tears from your face. 

“I thought you wanted this, baby,” he rumbled, his tone mocking and patronizing, a laugh in his distorted voice that made you think he was grinning and enjoying your struggle more than he was trying to let on. “You said I could fuck you as hard and rough as I want.” He paused to tsk at you. “You can’t even take my cock without gagging—some slut you are.”

Embarrassment and no small amount of humiliation flooded through you, making you pout. OK so maybe you were more of a slut in theory than in practice, but you did want this. And you’d been trying. Couldn’t he see that?

Crossing your arms over your chest, you glared up at Bucky, your lips still pursed in a pout. 

“Your cock is too big,” you huffed, a hint of a whine in your voice. “Let me try again.”

Bucky laughed, the sound cold and mean, though that only made your pussy drip even more for him. He patted your cheek patronizingly with his knife before fixing you with a hard look.

“You either take my whole cock in your dumb slut mouth, little cottontail,” he growled, a threat in his tone. “Or I’ll make you take it, ya hear me?”

The menace in his deep voice sent a shiver racing down your spine, settling heavily between your thighs until you had to squeeze them together against the ache in your core. You nodded your understanding. “Yes, sir,” you murmured. 

“Good girl,” came Bucky’s rumbling, terrifying voice. Then he stood up and shoved his cock into your mouth again, so suddenly that all you could do was make a muffled, surprised noise and take it. 

You bobbed on the hard, thick length of Bucky’s cock, stretching your lips until the edges stung, forcing his girth deep into your mouth. You gagged when the tip pressed against the back of your throat, but you tried to ignore your body’s response and work past it. No matter how hard you tried, though, you couldn’t get his dick all the way inside your mouth.

After a few minutes of letting you try and watching you fail, Bucky let out an impatient growl before muttering, “Looks like you need me to make you take my cock, baby.” Both his hands grabbed your head and he tilted it back, so your gaze met his. “Just remember, if you’d been a better slut, you wouldn’t have made me do this.”

Your eyes widened, tears leaking out the corners as he moved you into the new position he wanted, with your back to one of the mirrors, your head trapped between the hard surface and his cock. Your fingers fisted in the fabric of his pants near his knees, but you didn’t protest, just stared up at your horror movie villain, anticipation zipping through your body.

“Don’t worry, little cottontail,” Bucky rumbled, and you could tell he was smiling again, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a telltale way. “This won’t hurt nearly as much as if I’d slit your throat—but it’ll probably last longer than it would’ve taken you to bleed out.”

At that ominous comment, your pussy clenched, even more wetness dripping from your pussy and soaking your shorts. You clenched your thighs together, but that was the only part of your body you could move other than your arms. You were helpless to Bucky’s brutality, and you loved it. If his cock wasn’t already buried in your mouth, you would’ve urged him on.

Wasting no more time, Bucky shoved his dick deep into your mouth, pushing past the squeezing muscles in your throat, groaning when you choked and gagged on his thick cock. Your jaw ached and your throat felt raw, but you accepted it, you welcomed it. Bucky’s roughness was only making your pussy wetter, and you couldn’t wait until you could feel him sinking into your tight, wet hole.

Still, you couldn’t quite control your body’s reaction to the intrusion in your throat. Your throat spasmed and you let out a strangled little sound of desperation as it got harder to breathe. You arms flailed and your body tried to escape, only to bang against the mirror behind you. The fact that you were trapped, really trapped, made more tears leak from your eyes. 

“That’s it, baby, cry for me while you’re choking on my cock,” Bucky rumbled, holding your head in his hands as he stared down at you, kneeling for him, your throat bulging with his cock. His eyes sparkled like he enjoyed the sight far too much. “Your dumb slut tears are making me harder.” 

You felt his cock throb in your throat as proof, but then he was pulling back, only for his hips to snap forward, burying his hard length in your throat all over again. More tears poured down your face, your throat closing on a sob that wrenched a deep, pleasured groan from Bucky.

“Fuck, that’s it—take it, slut, you might be crying, but you fucking love it, don’t you, little cottontail?” Bucky rumbled, breathless laughter in his tone. “You love letting me use your mouth like my own personal fuck toy, bet your pussy’s dripping onto the floor, making a mess of your thighs like ‘m gonna make a mess of your face, huh?”

You couldn’t help it, you moaned around Bucky’s cock, his words stoking the blazing fire of your arousal. It didn’t help matters that he was right—your thighs, your shorts and your panties were a mess, all soaked with your desire. 

Bucky grunted when he felt you moan around his hardness, his hips snapping against your face harder as he pounded into your mouth. His hands held your head in a punishing grip, his cock ramming deep into your throat while the back of your skull was pressed against the mirror behind you.

A whine worked its way up your throat as you squirmed, your pussy pulsing with the need to be filled, to be rubbed, to get some kind of attention. One of your hands fell between your thighs and you rocked against it, your clit rubbing against the seam of your shorts until you were moaning and sobbing around Bucky’s cock.

Suddenly he stopped. “What’re you doin’ down there, little cottontail?” he rasped, ducking his head to the side so he could see around his cock and your face. When he caught you with your hand between your thighs, he laughed, his glittering blue eyes finding yours. “Oh, I see—the dumb little slut’s dripping hole needs some attention, huh?” 

Bucky shifted, using his booted foot to kick your thighs apart on the metal floor of the funhouse. Then he shoved his boot between your legs, and jerked his head like he expected you to sit on it.

“You need something to hump against, don’t you, baby?” he asked, his tone mocking. “Well, go ‘head. Ride my fucking boot, little cottontail.” His voice was dark and deep, the sound of it making you shiver. But you couldn’t pretend you didn’t want to follow his order, so you lowered yourself down onto his boot.

The moment your aching core dragged over the laces of Bucky’s boot, you let out a low, filthy moan, the sound muffled by his cock in your mouth. It was exactly the kind of friction you wanted, your clit and messy slit rubbing against the seam of your shorts and the roughness of his laces. Pleasure bloomed, hot and heady, and swirled through your body, overwhelming your mind.

Above you, Bucky groaned, shoving deeper into your throat until your nose was pressed into the thick thatch of hair at the base of his cock and his balls were nestled up against your chin. Spit and precum and tears were leaking down your face, making a mess of your jaw and chin, dripping down to your tits while Bucky watched you with hooded eyes.

“Do that again, baby,” Bucky grunted, holding your head down on his hardness. “Moan like a dumb fucking slut on my cock while I ruin your throat.” 

It took little effort to moan again as pleasure and pain swirled through your body, your hips working on Bucky’s boot, grinding your slick cunt against the stiff leather through your panties and shorts. Your clit rubbed over the laces, your mind filling with clouds of bliss as you sank into the feeling of your pussy grinding against Bucky’s boot and his cock fucking your throat.

Bucky was grunting and groaning loudly, his sounds of pleasure a reward for how good your slutty mouth was making him feel. He pounded into your face, his balls slapping against your chin, seeking his release while you humped against his boot, intent on finding your own pleasure while he used you. 

You were both lost entirely in each other, too focused on seeking pleasure to notice someone else had entered the funhouse. Bucky’s eyes were only for you, and you were staring up too intently into his face, watching pleasure make his eyes go hazy to pay attention to your surroundings—which was the only reason one of the final girl’s friends was able to sneak up on the two of you.

“Get away from her, you monster!” The girl’s shriek was followed closely by the splintering sound of a wooden bat as she swung it at Bucky, and the thing shattering apart against his back. Her face, twisted in fury and determination, quickly shifted to surprise and panic.

For his part, Bucky merely grunted, barely lurching forward as he shoved his cock impossibly deeper in your throat while he bore the attack. But then he was moving quicker than your pleasure-drunk eyes could fully process, your body only aware that he was pulling back until only the tip of him remained on your tongue. Growling furiously, Bucky turned and used his knife to slash the girl’s throat.

You vaguely recognized the girl as one of the characters in Slasher who gets killed at the carnival in the third act, though you couldn’t remember which ride Bucky kills her on. Maybe it was the funhouse—that would explain how she found the two of you.

In that moment, you didn’t much care. You’d been busy with Bucky and you were more than a little annoyed at the interruption. Your body was buzzing with your unslaked need, and you felt horny and frustrated as you turned your attention back to the horror villain above you.

But Bucky’s focus was entirely on the other girl, who was grabbing her throat uselessly, trying to stem the gush of blood as she stumbled into a mirror, leaving a bloody handprint behind. Bucky’s eyes were gleaming as he savored the sight of the dying girl, the corners of his eyes crinkling like he was grinning.

His cock was still in your mouth, but just barely, and the longer he watched the other girl die, the more a pout grew on your lips. 

After a few long moments of the girl’s death dragging on, you’d had enough. This was your fantasy come to life, and if Bucky wasn’t going to pay attention to you and get you off, then you were going to make him. 

Carefully, you extracted yourself from between Bucky and the mirror you’d been pressed against, your pout only growing when his stiff cock slipped from your lips and he didn’t even notice. Quickly, you crawled around the corner and once you were out of sight, you hopped up to your feet so you could move faster.

Your legs felt weak from your earlier running and kneeling on the hard, metal floor—not to mention how close you’d been to coming on Bucky’s boot. But you urged them to work as you moved as quietly as you could through the rest of the maze.

You were already almost to the exit when Bucky finally noticed you’d escaped. His angry roar of, “COTTONTAIL!” echoed off the mirrors and metal walls inside the funhouse. But his rage only made you snicker. It was his own fault, after all.

“You shoulda tied me down or paid more attention to me if you didn’t want me getting away, Mr. Slasher,” you called over your shoulder, taunting him as you darted around the final corner in the mirror maze, finding your way out. You clambered through the rest of the funhouse, Bucky’s stomping footsteps reverberating around you and making your heart beat faster with fear and excitement.

You slid down the slide that worked as the exit from the funhouse and as soon as your feet hit the grass of the fairground, you sprinted off again. Wracking your brain, you tried to think about where else Bucky kills the final girl’s friends in the final act of Slasher. All you could remember was the ending, with the carousel.

You turned a corner, running in the opposite direction of the carousel and that area of the carnival, not wanting the final girl or anymore of her friends interrupting you once Bucky caught you again.

Sooner than you expected, a leather-clad chest slammed into your back and, within the next breath, you hit the grassy ground as Bucky tackled you. One of his hands wrapped around the front of your throat, his fingers digging into the sides of your neck while he pressed his face into the side of yours.

Even through his hard plastic mask, you could feel his breath on your skin, his hot, heavy breaths gusting past your cheek as he panted like a rabid dog. 

“I win again, baby,” Bucky growled, his voice even more threatening thanks to the fury in it. He clearly didn’t appreciate that you’d made him chase you again, and the coldness in his tone promised that while you might find pleasure in what he was about to do to you, you were also going to feel no small amount of pain. 

“And you can be sure I won’t make the same mistake twice,” he went on, resting more of his weight on your back until you were pinned to the ground beneath him, your body struggling to catch your breath as he crushed your lungs. “Now that I have you, you’re never getting away from me again—you’re mine, little cottontail.”

Your heart panged in your chest, and it took you a second to realize the feeling was yearning. Because that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? You wanted someone to see you at your brattiest, with your darkest desires all laid out—and even seeing your soul bared for them, you wanted them to want to keep you. Part of you wanted to roll over and open your legs for Bucky, tell him you were his forever. But that wasn’t really in your nature.

Instead, you huffed a belated laugh, squirming beneath Bucky and fighting against his considerable strength even though you knew it was no good. You weren’t going anywhere, and you loved it.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Mr. Slasher,” you taunted, bucking your hips hard. You felt Bucky’s big body jostle just a little and, sensing a glimmer of freedom, you fought harder. 

Then cold steel replaced Bucky’s hand at your throat and you went still. Despite the fact that he’d used the knife mere moments ago to kill someone else, you were almost certain he wasn’t going to do the same to you. Well, pretty certain.

Besides, you were still convinced you were in a dream and dying would only wake you up. But with Bucky’s knife pressed to your neck, you didn’t exactly want to test your theory.

The horror movie villain chuckled, his chest rumbling against your spine and his breath ghosting over your cheek. 

“That’s the first smart thing you’ve done all night, little cottontail,” he murmured, his voice so dark and deep, it made you shiver. 

He dug the steel of his knife into your throat, using his other hand to guide you up onto your hands and knees. Bucky’s big body was curled over yours, his hand reaching beneath you to grope your tits while he groaned against the side of your face. 

“Such soft tits, baby,” he grunted as his fingers kneaded your flesh through your tank top. Then his hand was diving under the fabric to pinch your nipples, making you cry out and arch your back. “Yeah, that’s it, ya dumb slut, let me hear how much you like having a monster like me playing with your tits.”

You whimpered when he pinched your nipple hard and shook your breast, the sting of pain and pleasure consuming your mind and making you grind back against his thick cock, which he’d tucked back into his pants. An impatient whine tumbled from your lips and it was on the tip of your tongue to beg Bucky to fuck you, but it seemed he was just as eager to get on with it.

Skimming his hand down your body, Bucky found the button of your shorts and quickly undid them. He sat up on his knees, dragging you with him and keeping his knife at your throat. 

He shoved your shorts and panties down roughly past your ass to your thighs, then dipped his hand between your legs. A loud groan rumbled in his chest when he realized how wet you were. 

“Fuck, you really are a slut, aren’t you, baby?” he taunted in a mocking tone, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. His fingers slipped between your drenched folds and all you could do to answer him was moan as he teased your pussy. “I’m gonna fill up this slick cunt, little cottontail,” he rumbled in your ear, a promise ringing in his words. “I’m gonna destroy your tight hole until you’re nothing more than my dumb, cock-drunk slut.”

Between Bucky’s fingers playing with your pussy and his words wreaking havoc on your pleasure-soaked mind, you were desperate for him to follow through on his promise. 

Suddenly, you’d had enough of the game you’d been playing with Bucky and you wanted him to finally—finally—fuck you.

“Please, Bucky, please, please, fuck me,” you sobbed, tears leaking from your eyes and down your cheeks as you rocked your ass against his hard cock. “Please, god, I need it—I need you.”

For a moment, Bucky was silent and unmoving. Then he was shoving you forward into the grass so you were back on your hands and knees. His knife just barely grazed the side of your neck as you fell forward, and you whimpered at the light sting of it.

The next thing you knew, Bucky’s cock was slapping against your bare ass, and he was lining himself up with your soaked, fluttering pussy. Your fingers dug into the grass, preparing yourself to hold on for dear life.

“Remember, little cottontail, you said I could fuck you as hard and rough as I want,” Bucky rumbled, sliding his cock between your legs, coating his thick length in your desire. “If it’s too much for you, you can scream all you want, but I’m not stopping until I’ve filled your cunt with all the come in my balls.”

You could hear the laughter in Bucky’s voice, but didn’t have time to respond to his words because in the next second, he shoved himself all the way inside you with one thrust.

Bucky’s thick, hard cock slammed deep into your tight pussy, and a scream wrenched free from your lips, making your already raw throat hurt even more. But it was the delicious kind of pain that mixed perfectly with the feeling of Bucky filling you up for the first time. 

His girth was bigger than anyone or any toy you’d taken before, and it felt like you were being split apart, your insides rearranging to make room for his huge cock. It was only because you were so wet that it didn’t really hurt, but the sting of the stretch was enough to send your mind reeling, your thoughts scattering until the only thing that mattered was Bucky’s cock inside you and his body behind you.

Bucky made a noise that was half groan, half growl—sounding entirely feral behind his mask as his hands dug into your hips. You could feel him still holding his knife, but the steel wasn’t pressed against your skin so you didn’t give it much thought.

“God, that’s a tight fucking cunt ya got here, cottontail,” he rasped, pulling back and slamming forward so hard, your arms shook and you nearly collapsed face first into the grass. “Feel like you were fucking made for me, baby—made to be my fuck hole, made to take my cock.”

True to his word, the horror movie villain rutted into you hard, paying no mind to your pleasure, just taking his own. But that was exactly how you liked it, and you couldn’t help the litany of desperate moans and whimpers that tumbled past your lips. 

Before long, your arms gave out and your cheek pressed to the grass, which was cool against your face. The position made your back arch and your ass stick up in the air. Bucky made a pleased sound, slapping your ass in a gesture that almost felt like praise.

“Yeah, take it like a slut, baby,” he growled, pounding into you harder—hard enough you could feel your ass and hips and thighs ripple with the force of his thrusts. “This is how dumb sluts are meant to be fucked.”

You whined at the searing pleasure of Bucky’s cock hammering into your cunt, and you arched your back further, giving him easier access to drive even deeper into you from behind. Your reward was another hard slap on your ass—that time with the cold flat steel of Bucky’s knife. You squealed, then moaned as the sharp sting devolved into even more pleasure.

Bucky laughed, the sound wild and dark. Then he curled his body over yours, dropping the knife in the grass so he could grab wrap one of his hands around your throat while the other groped your tits. 

“You’re mine, little cottontail,” he growled in your ear. “I own your body now, and you’re going to be my personal fuck toy for the rest of your life.” He rutted into you, hard and rough, his hips slapping against your ass mixing with the sounds of your wet pussy being fucked. “I’m gonna chain you up in my basement, and you’re gonna be my basement slut—my little cottontail—forever.”

It was impossible to nod, and impossible to speak, with how tightly Bucky had you pinned beneath him while he fucked you. So you wrapped a hand around his wrist, not pulling him away, but squeezing hard enough that you could feel his pulse thrumming beneath your thumb. You clung to him, telling him wordlessly that you were submitting to him, tears gathering in your lashes as pleasure overwhelmed you.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, pounding you hard and fast, the hard plastic of his mask digging into the side of your face. “Cry for me, cottontail, you know it makes me harder.” 

His fingers dug into the sides of your throat while his other hand tortured your nipples, tugging and pinching them, until your tears began leaking from your eyes. Bucky ducked forward, nuzzling your tear-stained cheek through his mask, groaning as he hit a spot inside of you that made your whole body clench and your mouth drop open in a soundless scream.

“I can feel your cunt choking my cock, baby,” Bucky rumbled in your ear. “You really love everything I’m doing to you, don’t you, dumb slut?” His hips pressed against your ass and he started grinding his cock deep in your core, the tip brushing against that spot inside you that made you see stars.

“Yes, yes, Bucky, yes,” you sobbed, your words breathless and soft and only able to escape because he’d loosened his hold on your throat slightly. But then he tightened his fingers again and you made a desperate little gasping sound.

Bucky laughed, the sound evil and mocking, and your cunt pulsed again. He refocused on fucking you, pounding into you and chasing his own pleasure. You tried to scream, the pleasure nearly mind-blowing, but his hand on your throat made sure you could only make the barest of noises.

“You’re gonna come on my cock, little cottontail,” Bucky rumbled, his hard plastic mask chafing against your sensitive cheek. “You’re gonna come and show me that you’re mine, that you accept your new life—and me as your master.”

Your fingers squeezed his wrist again in understanding, and then you couldn’t think anymore. Bucky’s cock was pounding into your pussy hard enough to almost hurt, pleasure pulsing through your body as he plucked and played with your tits. Your head was going fuzzy from a lack of air, but that just made everything else feel better and more.

When Bucky’s hand abandoned your tits to slip between your thighs, it only took a few strokes of his fingers against your clit to set you off. At the same moment, Bucky’s hand loosened around your throat, and oxygen flooded your lungs as you came on his cock. 

It was almost an out-of-body experience, coming on the thick length of your horror movie villain crush, your mind going entirely blank as your body tried to process all the pleasure and sensation flooding through it. A loud, piercing scream sounded in your ears and it took a second to realize it was spilling from your own lips. 

Bucky’s hand tightened around your throat again, tighter than before, cutting off the sound of your pleasure while he grunted and groaned above you. He was rutting into you as your walls squeezed his cock, taking his pleasure as he prolonged yours.

Blackness was starting to creep into the edges of your vision when he finally roared loudly, his cock throbbing inside you as he spilled his come deep in your pussy. His fingers dug into the sides of your throat harder, choking you through his orgasm as your body fluttered with the last waves of your release. 

The last thing you heard was Bucky muttering, “Good girl, take my come, little cottontail,” as he pumped you full of his thick, sticky seed. Then, there was nothing but comforting darkness, and you sank into it, feeling satisfied and happy as you passed out in the arms of your horror movie villain…

Now, the choice is yours, dear reader. Do you want to stay with Bucky Barnes and live in the world of Slasher? If so, read on for the dark ending! Or do you want to wake up and meet someone a little less psychotic? If so, skip down to the fluffy ending!

Slasher - Dark Ending

dark ending additional warnings: dubcon, somnophilia, slightly painful sex, basement wife-ing, references to Bucky's arm amputation, Bucky is even more psychotic

You were woken by your body jostling against concrete, an aching mix of pleasure and pain radiating between your thighs. The slick sounds of fucking met your ears and, belatedly, you realized you were impaled on a cock, the thickness of it stretching your tight hole to its limit. 

Your inner thighs felt chafed and your back hurt from the position you were contorted in, your shoulders propped up against a cinderblock wall while you were folded in half at the waist, a heavy body pinning your legs to your chest while they fucked you. You were naked and a little cold, but the body against you was warm.

Blinking your eyes open, you were met with the sight of Bucky’s handsome face contorted with pleasure as he fucked you. There was a new glimmer in the depths of his blue eyes—something wild and feral and more than a little frightening. His mouth spread into a savage grin when he saw you were awake.

“There’s my little cottontail,” he rumbled before ducking down and kissing your cheek in a gesture that would’ve been sweet if not for his stubble roughing over your sensitive skin. You whimpered softly at the abrading feeling, your pussy pulsing despite your exhaustion.

When he pulled back, the sound of chains rattling above you finally caught your attention and you looked up, finding your wrists shackled above your head and bolted into the wall of the basement. Dim morning light was filtering in through windows set high in the walls, and you couldn’t make out much beyond the shadow of the stairs leading up to the first floor.

Before you could gather you wits enough to ask a question, or wade through your confusion to figure out what question you should even ask, Bucky slammed deep inside you, wringing a weak moan from you. It was only then that you realized he’d been taking it easy on you while you were asleep, but since you were awake, he started fucking you harder. Pleasure, pain and bewilderment warred with the tiredness of just waking up as you tried to think. 

Your eyes slid closed while you tried to block out Bucky and your surroundings. You needed to figure out why you weren’t in your grandmother’s basement, having woken up from the dream you’d been sure you were having.

But Bucky didn’t like that. His weight settled more heavily on top of you, making your hips ache in protest, and grabbed your face roughly in his hand. 

“Look at me, cottontail,” he rumbled, shaking your head until your eyes fluttered open again.

Tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes and your mouth worked, trying to find the words for how you felt. You’d wanted this—wanted someone like Bucky who saw who you really were and still wanted to keep you. But now that you were actually chained up in his basement, you wondered if maybe you’d jumped in the deep end without being able to swim. 

“Don’t look so confused, baby,” Bucky growled in a patronizingly sweet tone, thumbing your tears from your cheeks and making you flinch as the salt of them irritated your skin. “I told you I was never letting you go—you knew this was going to happen.” He was grinding his cock deep into your well-used cunt, the pleasure almost painful. “Now that you’re chained up in my basement, you have no hope of ever escaping from me again.”

The head of his cock battered against your cervix and you cried out, your head thumping against the cinderblock wall behind you. The pain mixed with the pleasure of thick length rubbing against your sensitive inner walls until your mind was spinning. 

You just couldn’t wrap your head around it. You really hadn’t known this was going to happen. You’d thought you were dreaming and were going to wake up after you’d fucked Bucky Barnes, but apparently that wasn’t the case. Apparently you’d really somehow been transported into the world of Slasher.

“Thank me for keeping you, little cottontail,” Bucky growled, wringing another pleasured whimper from you as he kept grinding his cock into you. “After all, it wasn’t easy getting you here after that bitch crushed my arm.” His voice was dripping venom and he rocked his hips harder, forcing tears from your eyes as his cock battered your cervix.

It was only then that you understood why so much of Bucky’s weight was resting on you while his hand held your face. Darting your eyes to Bucky’s shoulder, there was a thick, bloody bandage wrapped around the place where he must’ve amputated his arm after the final girl had crushed it in the carousel gears. 

Your stomach rolled at the sight, empathy for Bucky surging through you. It really couldn’t have been easy getting you back to his house when he was injured like that. 

But before you could follow the order he’d given you, Bucky yanked your face back to look at him. He ducked closer, so all you could see were his eyes, wild and psychotic, boring into your own.

“Thank your master for keeping you!” he growled harshly.

Your heart panged, and you rushed to do as he said. “Th-thank you for keeping me, Bucky,” you cried, tears streaming down your face, your voice filled with genuine gratitude. “Thank you, master!” 

The anger leeched out of Bucky at your words and your tears, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you. 

“Good girl,” he purred, nuzzling your cheek in reward and kissing your jaw with his soft lips. “My good, dumb slut—you’re going to make such a good basement wife for me.”

A small, confused noise squeaked out of you and Bucky pulled back, a grin on his face. He nodded up toward your hands and you twisted them in your shackles, finding shiny, silver metal glinting off your left ring finger. You sucked in a gasp, feeling speechless as your mind failed to process another shocking revelation in so little time.

“Your dream is coming true, baby,” Bucky rumbled, licking the tears from your cheeks, taking your silence as understanding and submission. “You’re going to be my own personal fuck hole—my pretty little dumb slut—for the rest of your life.”

Bucky canted his hips, grinding his cock into the depths of your pussy while the base of him rubbed against your clit and the pleasure that had been winding tighter in your core suddenly snapped. You came with a loud, sobbing scream, your head thrown back against the wall of the basement as tears cascaded down your cheeks while you succumbed to the pleasure, your cunt greedily squeezing Bucky’s cock.

A small part of you wanted to black out again, hoping you’d wake up back in your grandmother’s basement, unsure if you had what it took to be the full-time fuck toy of your favorite horror movie villain. But somehow you knew that wouldn’t happen.

Whatever had transported you into the world of Slasher seemed to be a one-way ticket, and you’d made your choices. The fact that you were at the mercy of Bucky Barnes was no one’s fault but your own.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret anything you’d done. After all, you’d gotten exactly what you wanted—you got to fuck Bucky Barnes. And if you had your way, you’d fuck Bucky Barnes every day until you died. Which was good, since that seemed to be exactly what he had planned for you.

Just then, Bucky grunted, his cock twitching inside you and he slammed deep, grabbing your face and pulling you in for a messy kiss while he came, coating your insides with his seed. His lips were hard and demanding, but you weren’t some wilting flower—you nipped his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. 

Bucky’s cock throbbed inside you as he chuckled, kissing you again, the taste of his blood bursting on your tongue as you devoured each other. 

When he pulled away and collapsed on top of you, a satisfied smile curved your lips. You glanced up at the ring on your finger again, thinking it wouldn’t be so bad to be Bucky Barnes’ basement wife. 

Slasher - Fluffy Ending

fluffy ending additional warnings: talk about past roleplay, some potentially risky decisions on reader's part, that's really it

You awoke with a start, the loud, chiming sound of the doorbell echoing through your grandmother’s house and dragging you back to reality from the depths of your dream. A faint soreness permeated your body, and you frowned, the memory of your dream clinging to the edges of your mind.  

Groggily, you opened your eyes to find you were curled up on the familiar rug in the basement of your grandmother’s house, and you suspected the hard floor was likely the cause of your soreness. Still, you felt a faint tingling all over, the remnants of pleasure from your dream and you smiled as you stretched languidly, easing most of the aches in your limbs.

The doorbell chimed again, and you dragged yourself up, wiping drool from your cheek as you pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself and climbed the stairs up to the first floor. On your way to the door, you checked the time, finding it was nearly midnight, and wondered who was stopping by so late. All your relatives and all your grandmother’s friends would be asleep.

Flicking on the porch light, you opened the front door, but the left the screen door latched when you found a strange man standing there. The frigid autuman night air wrapped around you, and you crossed your arms over your chest to stave off a shiver. 

“Hey Mrs—” The man had been standing with his back to you, facing the street, and swung around when he heard the door open. But he paused when he saw you, his greeting cutting off as if he’d been expecting someone else. 

A distant corner of your brain pointed out that of course he was expecting someone else—you were answering the door at your grandmother’s house.

But you couldn’t pay attention to your mind’s logic because you were silently freaking out. The man looked almost exactly like Bucky Barnes. 

He had the same sparkling blue eyes, though there wasn’t any of the cold hatred that haunted your favorite horror movie villain. And his mouth was curved into a charming smile, which you knew for certain you’d never see on the version of Bucky from Slasher. The man’s hair was also shorter, and the stubble on his jaw was a little less scruffy, like he’d shaved that morning and it had grown out since then. The style really worked for him. 

He was somehow even more attractive than Bucky Barnes. You didn’t know how that was possible, but apparently it was. 

The man shifted on his feet, running a hand through his hair, looking a little abashed. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb ya,” he said, a slight Brooklyn accent in his voice. “Sometimes I borrow some ground coffee from the lady who lives here when I’ve run out.” He shot you a sheepish smile and shrugged. “And I’ve run out.”

“Oh,” you said, a little dumbly. “You must be talking about my grandmother.” Your surprise over the man’s resemblance to Bucky was wearing off, and you found that his smile was infectious. He had a charm to him that made you want to tell him more than you should, which must’ve been why you found yourself saying, “She’s on a cruise, and I’m watching her house.”

It might’ve been a mistake to tell a strange man that much, but instead of doing anything to make you second-guess yourself, he just smacked a hand against his forehead. The gesture was so endearing, you couldn’t help but laugh, warming to him even more. 

“You’re right! She told me about that.” He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over your face—hopefully not finding any traces of drool on your chin—and his eyes softened. “Sorry again to bother you, your gran’s normally up watching one of those late shows, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

You snorted to yourself. Of course your grandmother was known for staying up later than you. But you didn’t want the man to feel bad. It wasn’t like he woke you up before you came on dream Bucky’s cock. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you said, shaking your head and smiling softly to let him know it really was fine. Again, you had the urge to say more to him than you normally would to a stranger. So, before you could hold your tongue, you blurted, “Do you know you look exactly like the villain from this old horror movie?” 

Even in the dim yellow light of the porch, you could see the man’s cheeks turn pink while he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. But he was hiding a smile behind his palm and when he caught your eye, there was humor in the depths of his gaze.

“Yeah, I get that sometimes,” he said, his voice suddenly lower. “Bucky Barnes from Slasher, right?” 

You nodded, almost mesmerized as you stared into his eyes. “I had the biggest crush on him,” you admitted, because apparently the filter between your brain and mouth had been left on the rug in your grandmother’s basement. But the man only chuckled, the light flush fading from his face.

“Did you now?” he asked, his eyes shimmering with humor as he looked at your face, his gaze raking over the curve of your lips. He shifted closer to the door and a shiver skated down your spine at the way he loomed over you. “Y’know, my friends have called me Bucky ever since we watched that movie one summer when were idiot kids.”

“Y-your name’s Bucky?” you asked, excitement making your voice come out like a whisper. 

The man looked to the side and chuckled, the sound low and rich and making you want to giggle ridiculously and kick your feet. When his gaze found yours again, his eyes were sparkling with playfulness and something more; his mouth was curved into a devastatingly charming grin.

“No, my name is James Barnes, but pretty much everyone calls me Bucky.” He watched you absorb this information, shifting even closer to the door until you could feel the warmth of him seeping through the screen. “Would you like to call me Bucky, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice pitching so low and deep, you could feel it between your thighs.

Your shoulders trembled as you shivered, nodding eagerly as you whispered, “Yes, please.”

Bucky rumbled a pleased sound, and his hand raised toward the screen, like he was reaching for you. But then he paused, as if catching himself. Huffing a laugh, he drew his hand back and wiped it down his face, seemingly forcing himself to straighten and take a step back. 

You almost whined in protest, but caught yourself at the last second, biting your lip against a frown as he moved away. You hadn’t realized how close the two of you had drifted to each other through the door until he was pulling away. You understood it was probably weird, the way you were acting with each other considering you just met, but the chemistry between you was palpable, and you desperately wanted to explore it as soon as possible.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I have the mask,” Bucky confessed, breaking you free from your thoughts. 

You were glad for it, because he was giving you another loaded look and you felt your belly swoop, butterflies taking flight as he smiled at you. It took a second to process his words, and when you did, you couldn’t help the impish grin that spread across your face. You gestured for him to go on.

“I bought it for a girl I was seeing who said she wanted to roleplay,” he went on, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looking off to the side again, like he knew he wasn’t supposed to be telling this to a girl he just met, but couldn’t help himself. “But I think I scared her off.” He turned his penetrating gaze back to you, pinning you in place while you held your breath. “You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who scares easily.”

You snorted again and tossed your head. That was an understatement, if your dream was any indication of your desires—which it was. You gave the man called Bucky a cheeky smile. “No, I’m definitely not,” you told him, a hint of a challenge in your tone.

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, staring at each other. Then, you made a slightly reckless decision. Your hand reached for the latch of the screen door and pushed it open, all while holding his gaze. 

“Why don’t you come in and get that coffee you needed,” you offered, hoping your instincts about Bucky were right, and he would turn out to be exactly the kind of man you wanted in your life. Besides, you told yourself, your grandmother liked him well enough to lend him some coffee—and you trusted her judgement so he must be a decent guy. “And you can tell me what about your roleplay frightened off that girl.”

Bucky’s smile spread into a full-on grin, and he eagerly grabbed the door, opening it wider while he stepped forward. When you didn’t move back right away and instead allowed him to step into your personal space, his gaze dropped to your mouth, his eyes darkening and the corners of his mouth twitching in another smile.

“Deal,” he rumbled. “So long as you tell me more about this crush of yours.”

The memories of your dream flitted through your mind, feeling more real than any dream you’d ever had before, and you found you couldn’t wait to tell Bucky about it. The man in front of you was warmer and kinder than the one you’d met in your dreams, but you had a feeling he had a dark side that liked to come out to play—just like you. 

“Deal.” After you said the word, you felt as if something truly special was beginning and your heart raced with excitement as you stared up into Bucky’s handsome face. Both of you were grinning like idiots.

Finally taking a step back, you welcomed Bucky into your grandmother’s house, knowing deep in your bones that you were going to be in each other’s lives for a very long time—possibly even forever. And you couldn’t help but think that having this Bucky Barnes was even better than dreaming about your horror movie villain crush. After all, at least he was real.

[buckysbabygorl]

Just Across the Hall (Part ½)

Summary: Y/N can’t stand her annoying neighbour, who always seems to pop up at the worst times.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

~

“Hold it!”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the familiar voice, reaching out to stop the elevator door with her foot.

He quickly rounded the corner, darting before flashing her his classic smile

“Thanks, gorgeous.”

Keep reading

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

9: ONE

Chapter 8 <MASTERLIST > Chapter 10

SUMMARY: You run away with the Winter Soldier, a man who has recently discovered his identity and is in search of his truth.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warning: SMUT: Mutual hand job, Fugitive situation — If there is any more you find not listed here please be sure to let me know so I can add it.

Your heart was pounding, the blood rushing through your ears so loudly that you could barely hear anything he was saying. There was a feeling bubbling up inside you, a potent mix of excitement, fear, and anticipation that threatened to consume you whole. Your breath came hard and fast as these turbulent emotions threatened to overwhelm you, your chest rising and falling rapidly. But through it all, your hand remained firmly in his, a grounding anchor amidst the storm raging within. 

The darkness had fallen early where the clandestine facility was situated, far removed from the trappings of real civilization. The dismal weather offered convenient camouflage, the overcast skies and biting wind masking your presence as you scanned the area, searching the shadows for any sign of your soldat. Just as the feeling of dread began to creep in, his hand suddenly clamped over your mouth, muffling the surprised yelp that escaped your lips at his abrupt appearance behind you. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as the world narrowed to just the two of you, hidden away from prying eyes in the enveloping darkness. The adrenaline coursing through your veins was nearly overwhelming, but his steady presence grounded you, reminding you why you had risked so much to be here, in this precarious but electrifying moment.

“Shhh, Kotyonok. No noises.”

His voice was a deep, authoritative whisper, the harshness of his tone at odds with the gentleness of his touch against your mouth. He held you firmly, his body a solid presence pressed against your back, his hand a warning against any further sounds. His breath was warm against your ear as he spoke again. "Follow me.”

You followed him, your feet stumbling occasionally over the uneven snow-covered ground. The world around you was a blur, the snowflakes dancing in your vision like swirling stars. His hand was a strong, guiding presence, pulling you along without pause or hesitation. He moved with purpose, his steps swift and sure, leading you down alleyways and side streets, always keeping to the shadows, avoiding the dim pools of light cast by the street lamps.

As you moved, your mind was racing, desperately trying to come up with an escape plan. But there had been no time, no opportunity to discuss anything of the sort. You were both acting on instinct alone, following Soldat's lead blindly, trusting him to keep both of you safe. You could sense his tension in the rigidity of his body, the way his grip on your hand tightened every time you stumbled or slowed. He was on high alert, his senses sharp, his eyes constantly scanning the shadows for any hint of danger. 

Soldat's mind was a maelstrom of thoughts and calculations. He had a plan, but it was not one he had been able to fully think through. It was more instinct than strategy, more desperate gamble than foolproof escape. He had spent precious minutes scouting the area before coming for you, searching for the most efficient route out of the town and into the vast expanse of wilderness beyond. It was a dangerous venture, one fraught with risks and uncertainties.

"Where’re we going?" You whispered.

Soldat paused for a moment, pulling you into a small alleyway between two buildings. The shadows concealed you well, the only light coming from a single, dim street lamp at the end of the alley. He turned to face you, his eyes meeting yours in the darkness. "Somewhere safe," he replied, his voice a rough whisper. "Somewhere they won't find us.”

"Where, Milyy?"

Soldat's heart clenched at your question. He wished he had a better answer, a definite destination he could name. But he didn't. All he had was a rough plan, one that relied heavily on luck and the element of surprise. He sighed deeply, leaning against the cold brick wall behind him. His eyes flicked downwards, avoiding your gaze for a moment.

"We're going east. Towards the river. There's a farmhouse there. It's isolated and remote. We should be able to lie low for a while.”

Soldat gently pulled you along once again, his hand still firmly around yours. He moved carefully, silently through the shadows, his footsteps making almost no sound against the snow. You followed him, your footsteps slow and faltering. The snow was starting to fall more heavily now, making the ground slippery and treacherous, but Soldat seemed unfazed, his stride never faltering as he made his way towards the river.

Soldat felt you stumble, his grip on your hand tightening as he slowed his pace momentarily, allowing you to catch up. He kept his gaze straight ahead, his expression unreadable in the shadows. He knew you were struggling to keep up with him, your steps slower and more labored, but he couldn't afford to slow down. Every minute counted, and he could feel the urgency of the situation like a weight on his shoulders.

“Sorry, Kotyonok.”

He could see the tiredness in your eyes, the trembling of your body as you struggled to keep up with him. It tugged at his heart, but there was no time to rest, no time to stop and catch your breath. He glanced back at you, your face barely visible in the darkness. His voice was a mere whisper, a soft, ragged edge to it.

"We're almost there," he reassured you. "Just a little further.”

Just when you thought you couldn't go any further, Soldat pointed out something in the distance. You followed the direction of his gaze, your eyes struggling to make out anything in the falling snow and fading light. For a moment, you saw nothing, just the endless expanse of white snow and shadowy trees. But then, faintly, you saw a silhouette flickering in the moonlit distance.

Soldat nodded, his grip on your hand tightening momentarily. "That's it," he said. "The farmhouse. We're almost there.”

Soldat helped you settle by the fireplace, wrapping the blankets tight around you as you shivered slightly. Lighting a fire was out of the question. Even the smallest flicker of light in the window could give away your location and alert your pursuers to your location. The farmhouse was small but cozy, the shelter and isolation offering a much-needed respite from the bitter cold outside.

He pulled you closer to him, the blanket wrapped tightly around both of you as you sought each other's warmth. His flesh arm was wrapped around your shoulders, his body a solid presence against yours. He was silent for a moment, his body was tense, his senses on high alert as he listened for any signs of danger outside. You watched him listening to the quiet stillness of the house and the faint sound of the falling snow outside.

He tensed for a moment at your touch, his body instinctively responding to any contact. But then he relaxed, his muscles unfurling under your hand. He looked at you, his gaze soft and tender in the dim light.

"Sorry," you whispered.

He shook his head slightly, his gaze locked on yours."Don't be sorry," he whispered back. “Your touch... it grounds me. It helps.” He placed his metal hand over yours, covering it with his own. The cool metal contrasted against the warmth of your skin. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, a silent reassurance.

"Do you hear anything?”

Soldat tilted his head slightly, his senses straining to pick up any sound in the stillness of the farmhouse. His ears were tuned to the slightest noise, his body taut and ready for action at a moment's notice. He shook his head slightly after a minute. "No," he said softly. "Nothing. Just the sound of the snow outside. We're safe... for now, at least.”

You were both silent, contemplating your choices, the decision you had made to flee from HYDRA.

"Tell me again," he asked, suddenly. Soldat's voice was quiet, but there was an intensity behind his words. His eyes flicked to your face, searching your expression in the low light.

You looked at him in confusion for a moment, trying to grasp his meaning. And then you understood. He wanted to hear it again, to remember the words that had started this journey. You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking softly. "You’re James Bucky Barnes," you said, pronouncing each syllable carefully. "Not the Winter Soldier. You’re more than what they made you. You’re free.”

“You’re from Brooklyn, New York. You were born in 1917, on March 10th. Your best friend is Steve Rogers, Captain America. You fought in the second world war, in the 107th unit but you were part of a special team called the Howling Commandos.”

Soldat - Bucky - was silent as you spoke, his eyes fixed on your face as you recited his history. He drank in your words, processing each one with an intensity that was almost physical. With every name you mentioned - Steve Rogers, the Howling Commandos - the memories stirred deep within him, faint at first but growing stronger with each passing moment.

He sat frozen, his breath coming in short, sharp puffs. The words were like a lifeline, pulling him back from the darkness of his past, reminding him who he truly was. His eyes never left yours as you spoke, his expression intense, as if he was trying to hold onto every syllable, to commit each word to memory. With every new detail, his expression shifted, recognition and realization slowly washing over his face. His eyes widened slightly, his expression almost pained, as if the memories were both a revelation and a torment.

"Buc-ee..."

His voice was rough, the syllables coming out slowly as if his mouth was unaccustomed to forming the words. He repeated it again, the nickname rolling off his tongue with an effort. The foreign sound of it was unfamiliar and yet, somehow, it felt right. He repeated it, his voice rough and ragged.

"Bucky," he repeated, his lips forming around the syllables. He looked at you then, his eyes searching for confirmation, for reassurance that he had said it correctly. He fell silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he seemed to lose himself in his thoughts. But then he blinked, his eyes clearing and sharpening once again as he focused on you.

“Why?” he asked.

You tilted your head slightly, not quite understanding his question. "Why what?"

He looked at you intently, his eyes studying your face in the dim light. He seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment, struggling to find the words to express what he was feeling.

Finally, he spoke again, his voice a low, barely audible whisper. "Why did you help me?”

It was a question you'd been asking yourself. Why had you left the security of your position to run away with a man who didn't even know who he was?

You had contemplated your decision the night before as you lay awake, waiting for him to come out of cryostasis. "Because you deserve more, because this isn't who you are... because... I love you.”

Bucky's eyes widened at your words. He hadn't expected that. But as he looked at you - your eyes, your face, your expression - he saw the truth in them. He understood then, the depth of your feelings for him, how much you had cared for him even when he hadn't remembered you. It was a strange sort of paradox, your intense connection and devotion to a man who was both himself and yet not himself at the same time.

He felt a mixture of emotions then, a cocktail of gratitude, guilt, and something more tender he didn't quite want to name. His heart gave a painful lurch in his chest, and he found himself struggling to speak for a moment. He was not used to expressing himself, not emotionally, not about things like love. But for you, he would try.

"I..." he started, his voice hoarse. "I don't deserve you.”

"You deserve so much more. You deserve to know who you are, you deserve to live a life of your choosing.”

Bucky stared at you, he had spent so long not thinking about what he deserved, living in the shadow of his past actions, that your words were almost too much to bear. He took a shaky breath, his gaze not leaving yours. "I don't know who I am. There's so much in my head... memories, thoughts, feelings... I don't know what's real and what's not.”

“Let me help you.”

He wanted desperately to believe you, to trust you, but there was a part of him that was still wary, still distrustful. He swallowed hard, his hand clenching unconsciously in the fabric of the blanket. "You'd... do that? You'd help me?" he whispered.

"I'm here, aren't I?”

A small, humorless chuckle escaped Bucky's lips. You were right. You were here, risking everything to help him, to be with him. He looked at you, his eyes softening as he took in your expression.

His right hand came up to cup your cheek, his flesh and bone fingers gently caressing your skin. "Yeah," he said softly. "You are.”

Bucky's touch was gentle but possessive as he leaned in to kiss you. His lips were soft, a stark contrast to the rough stubble on his face. He tasted of bitter cold and a hint of fear, and yet, underneath it all, there was something else - something undeniably warm and familiar.

He pulled you closer to him, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your neck, keeping you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entry into your mouth. Bucky felt the shift in you, the way you pressed closer to him, seeking more contact, more intimacy. His touch was a desperate caress, his fingers tracing the curve of your back, your thighs, every inch of skin he could reach under your thick coat. He pulled down the zipper, longing for more.

Bucky's hands stilled as he felt you shiver under his touch. He looked at you, his eyes dark and intense as he realized the effect his touch was having on you. A spark of concern flickered in his gaze, and he shifted you slightly so you were tucked tightly against him, his arms wrapped protectively around your waist.

"Are you cold?" he asked, his voice husky.

"It's fine, I'll be fine," you answered, dismissively.

He raised an eyebrow at your response, his expression saying that he didn't believe you. Bucky reached out, his fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He studied your face for a moment, taking in the way your teeth were clenched together to keep yourself from shivering.

"You're shivering," he pointed out, his voice a low murmur.

Bucky's hands moved gently as he zipped up your coat, his touch careful and considerate. He knew you were frustrated, wanting more, but his concern for your well-being outweighed his own desires. Sitting back, he studied your face, his expression torn between pulling you into his arms and his need to keep you safe. As you placed your hands on his face, Bucky felt the warmth of your skin against his, your touch gentle and soothing. He closed his eyes, pressing his cheek into your palm and savoring the sensation - a tenderness he was unaccustomed to experiencing.

"I just... I don't want you to get hurt… because of me," he whispered.

Bucky's breath caught as you kissed him, his body instantly reacting to your touch. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tight against his chest, craving to feel you, to have you as close as could be. His lips moved with yours, the kiss starting soft and tender, but soon intensifying with desire and passion. He deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth, one hand gently cradling the back of your head, holding you firmly against him.

"Still feeling cold, Kotyonok?" He murmured against your cheek.

His whispered words, the low timbre of his voice, and the gentle caress of his lips against your skin sent a delicious shiver down your spine, igniting a smoldering heat within you. You instinctively pressed your body closer to his, craving the warmth and comfort of his touch.

You let out a soft, breathless chuckle, your voice a little hoarse as you spoke. "Not anymore," you whispered.

"Kotyonok, can I... feel you?” Bucky's words were a soft, hesitant question, his voice a low whisper in the quiet of the farmhouse. His gentle fingers traced down your clothed arm, the warmth of his touch perceptible through the fabric. Your eyes met his as you considered his question.

Bucky's hand slid around your waist, dipping beneath the waistband of your pants, as you shuffled closer to him. His touch was warm and possessive, pulling you firmly against his body. A wall of heat radiated from him, his breath hot against your ear as he spoke. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers traced lazy circles over your skin, his touch gentle but purposeful.

He spoke in a ragged, husky whisper, "You feel so soft."

Exhausted from the day's stress and harsh weather, you sighed with relief as you were finally able to rest and be cared for.

Bucky heard your weary sigh, and it stirred an ache deep within him. He knew you were exhausted, worn down by the tumultuous events that had unfolded. Yet, despite the immense stress and peril, you remained by his side, still allowing his touch. Holding you close, his solid form anchored against your back, Bucky's hand moved in slow, gentle caresses. His fingers traced delicate patterns on your skin, eliciting soft moans and sighs to escape your lips.

"Just let me take care of you," he murmured softly.

Bucky's breath caught as you parted your legs, hooking your left knee over his right thigh. His hands gripped you tightly, responding to the heat of your skin against his. His body reacted instinctively, muscles going rigid at the intimate contact. Desire burned in his eyes as he looked at you, his fingers moving slowly, deliberately. He felt your body responding, your breath hitching, your muscles clenching under his touch.

Bucky's body stiffened involuntarily as your hand slid into his pants. For a moment, he tensed up but made no attempt to stop or pull away. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips seeking the sensitive spot behind your ear, where the familiar scent of your shampoo lingered. The hand on your thigh tightened slightly as your fingers found their mark, drawing a low, rumbling groan from deep within his chest.

"Easy, Kotyonok," he rasped, his voice a gruff whisper.

Bucky's breath came in ragged gasps as your hand moved over him, your touch igniting a fire in his veins. He fought to maintain his composure, attempting to mirror your movements with his own fingers, sliding them up and down your slick folds. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he sought your skin with his lips, grazing your pulse point with his teeth as he fought for control. Yet, your touch overwhelmed him, eliciting an involuntary physical reaction he could not restrain.

"That's it, Soldat. You like that, Milyy?”

Bucky's breath caught in his throat as you addressed him as 'Soldat'. The name felt cold, distant, and out of place. It no longer fit, not with the way he was feeling, not with the intimate touch of your hand. Bucky pulled back, his eyes locking onto yours, a desperate plea in his gaze. "Not Soldat," he ground out, his voice rough and urgent. "Call me Bucky. Please."

"Bucky," you moaned.

Bucky's breath hitched as he heard his name on your lips, the desire in your voice making something primal flare inside him.

"Tell me!" he growled. "Tell me again... who am I?”

He looked down at you, his gaze dark and intense as you spoke.

“You are James Bucky Barnes… you were born…” you whimpered softly as his fingers rubbed your clit. “...in Brooklyn… New York… in 1917.”

Bucky's gentle yet deliberate touch accompanied his soft-spoken words as he took control. He sensed your responsive movements and the soft whimpers escaping your lips, which ignited a reciprocal reaction within him.

"I fought in the Second World War," he continued, "and was captured by HYDRA and turned into the Winter Soldier. But now, I am free. I’m Bucky.”

"Oh, Bucky," you moaned.

Hearing his name on your lips, hearing the way you moaned it, sent a jolt of desire through Bucky's body. He couldn't deny it anymore, the heat between you was building, and it was intense.

He pulled you closer to him, his hand continuing its slow, deliberate movements. His other hand came up to cup your face, his touch gentle but possessive.

"Say it again," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "Say my name, Kotyonok.”

"Bucky!" You stroked him faster. 

Your breathless, urgent utterance of his name sent Bucky reeling. Tension coiled through his body as your hand moved over him, quickening with mounting urgency. He pulled you in closer, face buried in your neck, lips trailing over your skin as he panted against you, voice a low, ragged whisper.

"Yes, like that," he gasped, his hips arching into your touch.

"Come, Bucky,” you encouraged him gently. “That's it, come for me.”

Bucky let out a strangled gasp as you encouraged him, his body responding instinctually to your command. Your words and your touch were all too much, and he couldn't hold back anymore. With a low, guttural cry, he came undone, his release pulsing over your hand. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in shuddering gasps as he tried to regain control of himself, his body trembling against yours.

"Fuck,” he whispered. “Love you, Kotyonok.”

Bucky's fingers resumed their movements, his touch more urgent and insistent as he focused on your pleasure. Desperate to give you the same intense sensations you had provided him, he kissed and nipped at your skin, his fingers circling your clit in slow, tight motions. He yearned to hear you cry out his name, could feel your body tightening in anticipation, knowing he had pushed you to the edge.

"Bucky, oh Bucky... I'm... I'm gonna...”

He continued his ministrations, his fingers relentless as he worked you towards your release, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered your name again and again, a low, ragged incantation.

"Come for me, sweetheart. I want to hear you. Let go.”

“BUCKY!” Your shout was swallowed by the wind howling around the desolate farmhouse.

Chapter 8 <MASTERLIST > Chapter 10

[inlovewith505]

i am SO in love with that series—

[aimeekatee]

Watching that movie for the plot.

The plot:

[inlovewith505]

pretty boy 😍

[delicatebarness]

if walls could talk | prologue

Summary: Tension between you grows as your secret relationship adds a thrill to your pre-show warm-up. You and Bucky, the band's bassist and drummer, steal a passionate, heated moment backstage.

Warning: Explicit Sexual Content- Under 18s DNI. Public Sex. Exhibitionism.

Word Count: 1303

The Tour Setlist | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

A/N: Oh look another prologue for 'Prologue Season'. This one is just pure smut, I won't lie. Also, the tour setlist is all 5 Seconds of Summer songs, that’s the kinda vibe I have for the band. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

If Walls Could Talk: @inlovewith505 | @justaspeachy | If you would like to be tagged, let me know.

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

Lost beneath the muffled roar of the crowd, the door of your dressing room slammed behind you. Imagining the pulsing light, thundering bass, and the crowd screaming, you became high on adrenaline. But now, your mind was elsewhere as Bucky was already on you. 

Grabbing your waist, he pulled you into him before you could say a word. As he pressed you against the door, your skirt rode up and his lips crashed down on yours. You moaned into his mouth, and your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt. 

“Fuck baby, you look good,” Bucky growls against your lips while sliding a hand under your skirt, his fingers brushing the waistband of your pants. 

With a smirk, you pushed back against him. “You like the pink Docs, huh?” you teased, lifting one leg and wrapping it around his hip. Your thigh pressed against the bulge in his jeans. 

He grunts, curving his lips into a grin as his other hand trails higher up your thigh. “You know I do.” 

You deliberately picked out tonight’s outfit– a black skater skirt, a ripped band tee from his favorite band, and the bubblegum pink Doc Martens that always drove him crazy.  When you put it on, you knew exactly what you were doing. And so did he. Bucky never could resist when you dressed like this.

Tugging his hair, you pulled him into another kiss, only messier this time. Your tongues slide against each other, and his rough, calloused hands cupped your ass. He dug his fingers into your skin causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“We don’t have time,” you whispered, trying to convince yourself more than him as your hips ground against him, the heat pooling between your legs. He was hard and insistent, and it only made the need for him burn hotter within you.

“We’ll make time,” he smirked, pushing your pants aside and sliding two fingers between your folds. A low chuckle escaped his lips as he felt your wetness. The anticipation for this exact moment had built up since the second you stepped into the dressing room. As his lips found your neck, he pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing slow and delicate circles, making your head fall back against the door. 

You tried to stay quiet, biting your lip, but it was impossible as he slid inside you, curling just right. You gripped onto his shoulders, digging your nails into the skin that was slightly exposed as he moved his hand faster. You struggled to stay on your feet as his teeth grazed against your skin, biting down lightly. 

“Buck–” you breathed, barely able to form words as his fingers moved relentlessly. “I’m gonna–” 

Just then, a knock on the door came, moments before you were about to lose it. 

“We don’t want to know what’s going on in there, but you better wrap it up!” Sam’s voice echoed through the door, soon followed by Steve’s laugh. 

Bucky grinned against your neck, refusing to stop. His fingers pumped faster into you, his thumb rubbed harder against your clit, and the moans, loud enough to make you blush, slip from your lips. Bucky slaps a hand over your mouth, your eyes grow wide staring up at him, but the bastard just smirks as he leans down to whisper in your ear. 

“You wanna finish for me, baby?” His voice was taunting, sending a fresh wave of arousal through you. “Don’t hold back. Come for me, right now.” 

His fingers pushed you over the edge, and you tried to keep quiet as your body began to tremble with the orgasm ripping through you. You bit down hard on the hand muffling your cries, and your legs shook as the pleasure washed over you in hot, pulsing waves. Bucky’s eyes locked on yours, he watched every second as his expression switched to one more dark and possessive. He slowed his movements, drawing out every last bit of your release. 

He pulled his fingers out and began undoing his belt, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked his jeans down just enough to free himself. The sight of him made your already tingling body shiver. 

“Turn around,” he ordered, his rough voice leaving no room for argument. 

Doing as he said, you turned using your hands to brace against the door. He hiked your skirt up around your hips as he tore open a condom. Then, in one swift movement, he was inside you, slamming into you with one hard thrust. You gasped, digging your nails into the wood of the door. 

“You feel so good, baby,” he groaned, gripping your hips as started to move, fast and rough. Desperate for more of him, you pushed back against him as your cheek pressed against the door to try and keep quiet. The wetness between your legs, his body slapping against yours, and the sounds of the distant roar of the crowd, all blurred together in the haze of heat. 

You could barely keep up with Bucky’s brutal pace, your body pinned against the door as he fucked you like he couldn’t get enough. He tightened his grip on your hips, digging fingers into your skin, bound to leave bruising, but you didn’t care. You wanted it– needed it.

Sam and Steve were talking outside, but it was just noise to you, backgrounding the way Bucky’s cock filled you, stretched you, and made you see the stars with each thrust. Your body coiled tight, as you were ready to snap.

“I’m close, Bucky,” you pant, pushing back, desperate to reach another high.

“Oh yeah? You wanna come again, baby?” he groaned, leaning over you and slipping a hand between your legs, rubbing your clit in rough, tight circles. “Do it. Come for me.” 

That was all you needed. 

You cried out, your second orgasm hitting you like a freight train. The pleasure tore through you, nails scratching against the door as you rode out the wave, your body shaking. Bucky thrust harder, faster, his movement becoming erratic as he chased his own release. It wasn’t long before you felt him tense behind you, and a low rumbling came from his chest as he slammed into you once last time, spilling into the condom as his cock twitched against you.

The air in the room was thick with the smell of sex, and for a short moment, it was just the two of you, panting and tangled together. You tried to steady your breathing while he rested his forehead against your back. 

But then, another knock. Only this time, louder.

“I swear to god if you’re still in there–” It was Steve’s voice this time, it was clear he was running out of patience. 

You glanced back at Bucky, and despite everything, you both burst into laughter. After pulling out of you, he quickly disposed of the condom as you fixed your skirt, and smoothed out your hair with shaky hands. Your heart continued to race, the rush of what happened left you feeling exhilarated, and more alive than ever. 

Bucky gave you a playful smack on the ass as he opened the door, smirking toward Sam and Steve. “Relax, we’re ready.” 

“You two are going to be the death of me,” Steve crossed his arms, giving you both his disapproving look. Sam just shook his head, a grin plastered across his face. 

You couldn’t help but blush as Bucky shrugged unapologetically. Grabbing your bass, the familiar weight grounded you as you slung it over your shoulder. Bucky walked beside you as the four of you moved toward the stage, excitement from the crowds vibrated through the walls. But, all you could think about was the way his hand gently brushed against yours, your little secret still burning between you.

---

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

[inlovewith505]

I AM OBSESSED.

[delicatebarness]

Very slowly talking myself into writing the drummer!bucky x bassist!reader fic

[inlovewith505]

as a bassist, I REALLY FUCKING NEED IT

[inlovewith505]

Hi

Fave falcon and winter soldier scenes??

definitely the domestic bucky&sam scenes in the 5th episode — them fixing the boat, the cute bucky smile... yep, loved these.

the therapy scene, like istg my jaw was on the floor when i found out it was improvised, seb and anthony are just soooo talented. i've literally learned bucky's shield talk by heart lol

in general all the bucky scenes. like the one where he catches that bus and realizes he's a hero too 🥹🥹

[smaug60]

[inlovewith505]

he's so prettyy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The extra money makes the after-hours work a little less sluggish. It will be worth it when you get the deposit. Even so, you’re only human and the needling between your brow pangs deeper and deeper. 

You can’t help but mourn your free time. You haven’t been to the gym in more than a week and most nights you fall asleep without dinner. It’s a stepping stone. Once you have a handle on things, it won’t be as bad. 

You yawn and lean your head in your hands. You glance up through the transparent walls of your office. Those in the shared space are long gone. There might be a few other execs like yourself left but otherwise, it’s desolate. It’d be peaceful if traffic wasn’t rushing and honking below. 

You rub your nose and sit up. As you do, your door swings open, jarring you so your chair squeaks shrilly. You blather out nonsense as Bucky strides in. His hair is sweaty and slightly askew and his metal arm is on full show as the left sleeve of his jacket has been removed to accommodate it. You haven’t seen him often in anything other than his faded tees and jeans. 

“Oh, hey, uh...” you blink and fix the tilt of your seat. “What are you, em, doing here?” 

He snickers and strolls around your office. He stops at the shelf mounted on the wall and toys with the little golden rose in a crystal vase. It’s one of the few pieces of decor you’ve moved in. 

“I was in the neighbourhood,” he plucks out the stem and admires it. “Working late? Again?” 

“You too.” You sit back to watch him. You cross one leg over the other and angle your head coyly. 

A ripple washes over you at the memory of your last time together. He was so rough and demanding. He’d kept you up all night, and in the morning, you as good as pushed him out your door. Something’s changed. Something you don’t quite like. 

“Oh, don’t play casual with me. I can hear your heartbeat jumping just like you wanna jump out of your panties,” he scoffs. 

You roll your eyes, “How many time do I have to--” 

“You say it but what woman doesn’t want a man who knows exactly what she’s thinking?” He interjects. 

“Like you do.” You shake your head and fold your arms. 

“Ah, come on, it’s been a while.” 

“I know. I’ve been busy. Working.” You pull your arms apart and roll closer to your desk. 

“I just got off myself so why don’t we get off together,” he twirls the rose as he nears. “Pull that skirt up, gimme a peek.” 

“Right. I really don’t have time. Sorry.” You look back to the screen as he stands just on the other side of the desk. Sweat beads in your scalp as he lurks there. He drops the artificial flower on the wood and huffs. 

“Strange. You’re too busy for me. Suddenly. Weren’t too busy a couple weeks ago. I seem to remember some begging,” he laughs. 

“Would you quit?” You sniff and look up at him, folding your hands atop each other. “This isn’t a game for me. I can’t fuck this up. Look, we had fun. It’s been fun but I don’t think I can do this anymore. It’s... too much.” 

He’s quiet. He slowly leans down and plants his fingertips on the desk. He stares you down and you look up at him cautiously. A divet forms between his brows. 

“You can’t break up with me. We’re just fucking, so save the it’s not yous, it’s mes,” he hisses. 

“Exactly. We’re not breaking up, Bucky, because this was only ever sex, so please, just go. Find someone who give you what you want. Once you figure that out.” 

His cheeks tauten and his jaw squares. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“I’m not trying to hurt you--” 

“Hurt? Like you said.” He pushes himself away and the desk lurches. “It isn’t a relationship. Just a dirty, nasty hook-up.” He paces around your office. “The way I had you on your knees. Fuck, the way you wagged your ass for me. Good times.” He stops and claps his hands as he faces you again. “One last hurrah, how about it?” 

You sigh. You shift uneasily and grunt as you try to put your desk straight. It’s just another reminder of how he can do more. 

“I don’t think so.” You look up at him. “You need to go.” 

“Really? I came all the way here.” 

“I didn’t ask you to--” 

“I know you didn’t fucking ask but you were desperate for me every other time, weren’t you? Don’t act like you never wanted me.” He charges forward and you press yourself against your chair. You gulp and bat your lashes. He stops short and snorts. “Relax. What am I gonna do, huh? What did I ever do but exactly what you begged me to do?” 

He throws his hands up and shoves the air. 

“Enjoy your fucking soul-sucking job.” He twists on his heel and marches to the door. He lingers in the frame as he turns his head, his profile shadowy in the dim light of the outer offices. “See how far it gets you.” 

He storms out, leaving you stunned. You rehearsed it over and over. What you would say, how you would say it. You saw him laughing it off. You saw him shrugging and sighing. That was more than you could predict.  

It was him who insisted it was nothing from day one. You agreed because that was easy. Now it feels a lot more complicated. Or rather, did. 

[steelbluehome]

Warning!

Extremely negative take on The Thunderbolts* footage below.

Dead Dove. Do not eat!

Hi sweeties! Just in case you thought you would just peek down here and maybe bring some optimism to the gremlins in cellar, thank you, sweet summer child, but you really should go back up to the rest of the internet where you have lots of beautiful people to play with. Thanks anyway! Bye!

Okay.

First things first, this had to happen on Sebastian's fucking birthday?!?!?!?

I have seen the Thunderbolts* footage. 5 times. Pausing at specific moments.

And, Bucky is not the in the scene where they "all" get trapped in the room, nor in the scene where they are "all" in a vehicle and Red Guardian is driving.

I don't blame the people who described the footage previously. They cannot be expected to look for Bucky like a dying person searches for a drop of water in the vast desert. That is my job.

Nevertheless, this is our first glimpse of Thunderbolts (sick of the fucking asterisk) and there is barely any Bucky in it. So what the fuck am I even waiting for?

I'm sorry if I inferred incorrectly that Thunderbolts would be Bucky's movie, since he is the character that has been in the MCU the longest and most consistently of all the characters in the movie, but what the fuck was I supposed to think?

I'm sorry if I incorrectly assumed from reports that Bucky would be the "leader" of the Thunderbolts, that this would be his time to shine.

And ex-fucking-cuse me if I extrapolated incorrectly that the reason Marvel split up the amazing team of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes was to give them each their own movie, therefore since Sam is absolutely the lead character in Cap4, Bucky would be the lead character in Thunderbolts!

But fuck me, Marvel, what the fuck are you doing?

Yes, looking back, I see that most MCU movies have the superhero name of the lead in the title. Again, I thought they did not do that because Bucky is no longer the Winter Soldier, as emphasized in TFATWS, and has no other code name, and that Bucky Barnes and the Thunderbolts would sounds like a bad name for a band. I thought it would at least be like the Avengers where he would have an equal part.

As far as Sebastian Stan, I think this is fucking disrespectful! He had to clear his schedule for this movie anyway, they could at least give him something to do!

Now, yes, maybe there is more of Bucky in the movie. Maybe these scenes are mostly from the beginning, and Bucky comes into it more in the middle and the end. Well he'd fucking better!

I will watch the next teasers and trailers, and if I see more of Bucky, I will be thrilled and very pleased.

But what is obvious to me is that they have actually made a movie about Yelena Belova, and for some reason stuck Bucky in there as a supporting character. (Or less?)

If I turn out to be wrong I will happily stand corrected.

But whenever this footage is officially released I intend to flood the internet with #Where'sBucky? And I hope anyone who feels the same, will do the same.

Thanks for listening to me rant. If you have a rant that agrees with mine, please add it. If you have read this far and disagree with me as far as how large a part Bucky will have in the movie, please put that in the tags.

Thunderbolts footage more centered

Bit bigger, maybe?

[cindyyberman]

make her happy. | bucky barnes

synopsis ── steve loves tony’s adopted daughter, but she loves bucky. he loves her, so he just wants her to be happy, and bucky makes her happy. that’s all that matters. ♡

── bucky barnes x fem!adopted!stark!reader

genre ── fluff

word count ── 2k

note ── i’ve been waiting for this series for so long!! i’m really happy with how it’s going so far. i’m going through a major account overhall on everything on my account. my fics are gonna be longer and i finally found a theme i guess, so i hope you like this different kind of style. i hope you enjoy this first part of the series :)

♡ marvel masterlist ; misc masterlist ; prompts ; character list ; request rules

Keep reading

[inlovewith505]

OMG THE HAMILTON REFERENCE—