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#bucky barnes recovering
cobrafantasies · 11 months
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crushedbyhyperbole · 1 year
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His Words
Summary:  Bucky doesn’t know who he is or who he used to be, but he knows three things; he can’t get caught again, he needs to conquer the monster in his head, and he needs help to do it.  He puts his trust in you, his fishnets and corset clad angel of mercy - Goddess Noir.
Words: ~4.2k
A/N:  Sub!Bucky x Dom!Reader.   Set after the warehouse scene in CACW, this is a canon-divergent story of how Bucky became free his trigger words (kind of).  There’s mentions of hypnotism and sexual conditioning, reader is Goddess Noir - a seasoned dominatrix who cares for her subs.  I’m far from an expert in any of this - it’s not written for accuracy though I try to be as informed as I can be.
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy, and humbly request your feedback.  I love hearing from you guys and appreciate all the love you can give ❤
Warnings:  Angst, hurt/comfort, emotional distress/comfort, dom/sub, coming untouched, bondage, mentions of: past trauma/edging/conditioning.
***18+ content - please don’t continue if you’re underage***
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His desperation had been unsurmountable.  All that fear.  All that hate.  He had burned with it, even as he had come back to himself in that dingy warehouse with the weapon clamped in a vice.  The memory of the dark place his mind went to when the words took over left him feeling nauseous.   A tangy sour taste lingered in the back of his throat, bile and bitterness for all of the things they’d made him do.
Those two men weren’t any different, clamping him into a piece of equipment to take his choice away.
One had said he knew him. He had said he was his friend. The man from the bridge.
He didn’t have any friends. Only handlers and superiors. There had been something… once.  A lifetime ago, when he wasn’t this thing they made him into.  When he wasn’t a monster.  He got flashes of it sometimes when, triggered by smells and tastes, he would recall something he forgot he ever had; family.  They were all gone now.  Lost to history.
 The struggle to free himself had been short, shifting the plates of the weapon like an articulated track, he had slipped free and silently exited via the rear access.  The two men had underestimated him, but he knew they would come after him as soon as they realised he was gone.  He hadn’t wanted to hurt them, he hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone, but he would if he had to.  All he wanted was to disappear and never be found.  To go where the things inside him couldn’t get free ever again.
In the months since his escape, he’d seen his face on the news and in the papers of every town and city in every country he passed through on his trek across Europe and back. He knew he couldn’t settle but he had to find someone who could help him, someone who would help him. That’s how he found you.
Your black and silver business card had saved his life.  The words “The Goddess” in silver swirling font on the glossy card, and a phone number on the back.  Though he hadn’t realised how lucky he was then, he certainly knew it now.  The lowlife who had passed it to him had smirked when, in desperate whispers, he had asked for someone who dealt in hypnotism and wasn’t afraid to break moral codes.
You weren’t even the first person he had tried, but you had been the last.  He feared that his disguises weren’t good enough, that the Interpol would find him and turn him over to the American Government, or worse, HYDRA would claim him.  There was constant hypervigilance and the crushing worry that one of the handful of people he had sought out would turn him over, get him caught.  He was exhausted.
 You had been different. So far removed from what he expected that he wasn’t sure he was even in the right place when he walked through your door.  Your warm smile had drawn him in but your attire spoke of sex and desire.  Behind you, an open door drew his gaze.  The red glow did little to hide the contents; a cushioned table with restraints, a large cage, a wall display of implements you no doubt used to inflict pain.
He balked, turning hastily to leave.
“Bucky, is it?”  Your voice was soft as you use the name he had given to you on the phone.  He turned his head to watch you over his shoulder.  He couldn’t fully remember if that was his name, but the man on the bridge had been so sure.
Hastily you swung a white robe around yourself, covering your tight black corset and plunging cleavage. The red glow diminished as you closed the door with a soft click.
He knew he should run but something about you told him to stay.  He nodded, silently searching your face for any sign of deception.
“Do you want to sit?”
He eyed the dark leather sofa suspiciously.  A curt nod and he moved cautiously to sit.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
He swallowed, a slight croak escaping his throat, little used for speaking.  “W-water please.”
You smiled brightly and filled a paper cup from a water cooler in the corner.  You set it on the table in from of him and stepped back, creating a reassuring distance between you.
“I think I know why you’re here.”  You perched your bottom on the edge of your desk, fishnet clad legs crossed at the ankles where your glossy black shoes yielded heels sharp enough they could be used as weapons.
He swallowed.  If you had recognised him, he might have to leave quickly.  He didn’t want to hurt you but the people who would come looking for him might.
“This is a safe space, Bucky.”  You said softly.  “There isn’t anything that you can tell me that would shock me or make me judge you.”
“That isn’t a promise you can ever hope to keep.”  It was the longest sentence he had said since his phone call to you when the words do you do hypnosis? and I need your help came tumbling from his lips.
“Can you help me understand? I want to help you, Bucky.”
He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat.  If he told you everything he knew and everything he had done, you would call the authorities and he would have to disappear again.  The reports in the news about him had started to fall away of late, the infamous Winter Soldier vanished without a trace.  He would have to do it all over again.
“Would you be more comfortable somewhere less intimidating?  I can tell you’re nervous about being here.”
“No.”  He snapped.  “No.”  Softer but still fearful.  “Here is fine.  It’s just-” he clenched his jaw.  “It’s just not something I can trust anyone with.”
“Then start with what you can tell me and see how we go from there?”
He nodded, resigning himself to the telling of his tale.  You were a reassuring presence despite being a stranger.  Your vibe good and supportive, a total contrast to the image he had gotten from the inside of red-lit room.  He decided to trust you.  His journey away from HYDRA and the words that made him their slave had to begin somewhere.  One trusting step after another.
 He started with the words, and what they did to him.  Then he told you how they put them there, the torture and conditioning that took them years to achieve.  Then he told you who, and that was where realisation kicked in.  A brief flicker of recognition in your eyes, and a sharply inhaled breath, but that was all.  You sat and listened to him tell you everything, all the while you watched him compassionately.
When he was done, glassy-eyed and emotionally exhausted, he looked up at you with big pleading eyes. “Will you help me?”
“Yes, Bucky.  I’ll help you.”
 He didn’t know why you decided to help him.  He had told you he couldn’t pay you, at least not yet anyway.  But you had agreed to help him anyway and he would be eternally thankful of any help you could give.  The fear of you reporting him to the authorities was still there, stronger than ever when you sent him away and asked him to come back a few days later. You had needed to clear some time for him where he could be safe and undiscovered.
He had done as you asked, doing recon on your building in the time beforehand.  Watching your clients come and go, some half-hourly, some hourly.  He knew you were some kind of sex worker but that wasn’t what you had offered him. You had offered him hope.
 The first session he had with you was just talking.  You asked him questions and he tried to answer them honestly.  You had sat by him, close enough to touch him but you hadn’t. You asked about the words, what they were and how they felt.  You were not surprised that they were in Russian.  You made notes, promising to burn them once your task was done.
You had learned those words over time, their meaning and their pronunciation.  You called him Bucky, instead of The Asset or Soldat. Your touch was kind when he allowed it. Soon he began to crave it, if not for its gentleness then for its intimacy.
The hypnosis took time. Your voice was soft and warm.  You felt safe to him, and soon, you began to feel like home.  The more you progressed, the more willing he became, allowing you to delve deeper and create a warm spot in his cold mind.  To give him comfort from the horrors that plagued him.  Of course, they never fully went away.  He would carry them with him always.
 Bucky came to love the sound of your voice and the way you made him feel.  Subconsciously relaxing when you spoke, feelings of care and support rising up above all else but no matter how hard you tried, the words still made him a monster.  He would sink back into the darkness when the words claimed him, ready to comply.
 +++
“I don’t know what else to try,” you sighed, sipping your coffee as you warmed your hands on the hot ceramic.  Your feet were resting in his lap as he massaged them through your fluffy socks.
Bucky had been staying at your loft for several weeks now.  It had been safer for him and more convenient for you to keep an eye on him. Some of the hypnosis you had done with him really took a toll on him and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were growing a soft spot for the man who no longer wanted to be The Winter Soldier.
“I feel good.”  He said with a subtle smile.  “You’ve done more for me than I can ever repay you for, but I understand, it was a long shot anyway.  I’ll just have to make sure they don’t find me again.”
“There is still something, I can try,” you hesitated, “but I don’t think it’s something that you’d want.”
“I’m willing to try anything.”
“You might regret saying that.”  You chuckled dryly.
 When you explained that you could repurpose the words, he looked at you blankly.  They were rooted so deep in his mind by the torment he had gone through that they could possibly always be with him, but they didn’t have to have the same effect.  That complete loss of control caused by the painful torture and conditioning could be changed.  The foundations were already there in his mind, all you would have to do would be to recondition him.
“So, you’re saying that I won’t be a slave anymore?  I won’t have to kill people?  I won’t lose control?”
“No, I’m saying that your loss of control can be redirected.  I’m saying you can be reconditioned for another purpose.”
Bucky looked at you so fearfully that you regretted bringing this up at all.
“What purpose?”
“Some other relinquishment of control, perhaps.  You would have to be willing to let it happen or it won’t take.”
“Would you have to torture me?”
“God, no!”  You sat forward, shifting your feet from his lap and taking his hands in yours.  “Pleasure over pain any day of the week, Bucky.  I would want you to feel good no matter what.”
“So you could reprogram me to feel pleasure instead?”
“I could try.”
The moment he took to process your offer was fleeting.  His eyes snapped to yours, resolute.
“I’ll do it.”
+++
 The journey had been long. Months of conditioning him in your rooms.  He had asked for blue lights instead of red; red reminded him of his past.  The trust he put in you was unequivocal.  He was no less than flawless.
Given his history, his willingness to submit to you was astounding.  You worked hard to build a strong bond with him, never once straying from the agreement you had both set out, never once taking something for yourself, no matter how much you wanted to.  Bucky was perfect, but he was anything but yours.  You had to remind yourself of that when he called you by your chosen title, and in the throes of pleasure moaned so perfectly for you.  Goddess.
You had made him climax many times before, edging him and reinforcing the pleasurable association between sensations throughout his body and the words.  It had taken months of work, almost daily sessions.  In addition to your regular clients, your work with Bucky ate into your free time but you didn’t care.  Being with him this way was the most rewarding thing you have ever done. The way he mewled with pleasure when you touched him, the way his skin on his neck and chest flushed hot and red when he was about to orgasm.  He still seemed innocent because you had never fucked him.  You couldn’t.  That wasn’t what he needed or wanted so you couldn’t and wouldn’t project that on to him.
Over time you had managed to repurpose all but his final trigger word, instead of relieving him of his free will, the words now built pleasure, anticipation.  All but that last one.  Ironic that the Russian word for freight car should thwart you when your goal was to make him come like a freight train.  
This final word had eluded capture no matter how many times you made him orgasm whilst chanting it. And when you strung all the words together, that final one was always the crux.  The words ya gotov otvichet would fall from his lips and he would await your orders, perfectly docile and emotionless.
You thought you had it this time though.  
  Bucky lay completely naked on your table, his muscles hard, his cock still soft.  The deep blue lights in the room made you feel trippy, slightly dizzy even.  It was disconcerting but you endured it for him.
Under your instruction, he tested the heavy-duty cuffs that bound his wrists and ankles.  Bucky had insisted on them, installing them himself, before the very first attempt you made with his first word.  They had never been needed but Bucky wouldn’t not hear any protests that they weren’t necessary.  He needed this security, so you had bound him.
At your request, he gave you his safe word.  A word he had chosen for himself.  The only one he could choose for himself since the others were chosen for him. Hotdog.
You tapped into your alter-ego headspace without fully submerging yourself.  This wasn’t roleplay, it was far more delicate and treacherous than that.  Bucky’s mind could hang in the balance if this all went wrong.  It was something you had wrestled with early on, whether it was morally right to do this, but he was low on options and you had wanted to help him if you could, so you quashed any qualms you had and concentrated on moving forward.
“Are you ready to begin?” Your voice was kind but firm.
Bucky nodded and mumbled “yes Goddess” as he closed his eyes and waited for you to begin.
Your chest bloomed with pride.  He was so good, so patient, so trusting.  “Good.”
Bucky took a deep breath in through his nose and out through quivering lips, readying himself as best he could.
“Zhelaniye.”
Breath quickening, bucky sighed heavily.  The feeling of desire took hold, and he longed for release.  His cock twitched as blood flowed into it, making it hard, laying solid and heavy against his abdomen.
“Rzhaviy.”
He stirred, eyes flickering behind closed lids as the muscles in his stomach clenched, his hips lifting slightly from the padded surface of the table.  His cock twitched vertical, swelling more before dropping back against his stomach.
“Semnadsat.”
He moaned.  Breath caught in his throat.  Teeth catching his full lower lip and biting down.  You hoped he wouldn’t be so far gone that he drew blood so when he released his lip, licking afterwards, you were relieved.
“Rassviyet.”
A gasp.  A sigh.  They punctuated his thrusting hips as he sought friction against his erection. You longed to touch him, to give him what he needed but that would defeat the object.  He needed to do this without being touched, with only the words to guide him on the journey you had spent months preparing him for.
“Pech.”
Bucky groaned heavily, his chest heaving as he panted against his growing pleasure.  A pearl of precum beaded on his tip, growing in size until it dripped off onto the skin of his stomach.  When his cock twitched it created a gossamer string of silken liquid in the gap underneath his risen cock.  You licked your lips, watching him come undone.
“Devyat.”
He fairly cried out as soon as the word had left your lips, hands clenched into fists, teeth bared slightly.   The skin on his neck began to flush deep pink and you knew he was starting to get close.
“Dobroserdechniy.”
A held breath escaped him as a drawn out moan that had heat pooling between your legs.  The sounds of him were enough to soak your panties, want and desire clamouring in your chest.  Bucky thrust his hip up repeatedly, fucking into the air as his cock throbbed relentlessly.
“Vozvrashcheniy na rodinu.”
Whimpering now, tears formed under his closed lashes, trickling forth from the corners of his eyes down into the hair above his ears.  His chest was wracked with panting gasps, and the skin there flushed an angry red. He was just about there, right on the edge.
“Odin.”
All muscles taut, from his clenched jaw and straining neck right the way down to his arched feet and curled toes, Bucky clung on to the edge of oblivion.  The glistening tip of his cock was so engorged it looked bruised, an angry purple-red that strained against the skin.  He twitched violently, balls tightening, fluid leaking from his tip.
“Gruzovoy vagon.”
Bucky’s breathy cry echoed around the room like a chorus of angels.  His release almost explosive as he spilled over himself in waves, pumping jizm out over his chest and stomach.  He thrashed on the table, hips jutting up, back arched in unadulterated pleasure.
His grunts became whimpers and his throbbing cock slowed.  You rushed forward an whispered his name, laying your hand gently on his sternum to let him know you were there.  His eyes cracked open briefly and he licked at his reddened lips, gasping as he came back to himself.
You increased the lights so you could release him, rubbing his wrists and ankles to make sure the blood flow was good with a few pinched toes and fingertips.  You wiped him down with a warm flannel cloth and took his hand to get him to sit.  He went with you easily, still in a daze.
“Bucky?”  You whispered and he shivered.  You hoped beyond hope that he was alright.  He hadn’t said the words yet but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.
You wrapped him in a red plaid fleece blanket you kept just in case and stepped between his open knees, pulling the blanket closed around him.  His breathing was still laboured and he looked thoroughly wrecked.
“Bucky, talk to me.”
His mouth started to turn upwards into a smile but didn’t make it that far before the dam broke and his mouth twisted.  Relieved sobs and a river of tears flowed from him as the realisation set in.  You had spoken his words and he was still there, in the light.  The darkness hadn’t claimed him this time.  He was free.  Free of the pain.  Free of the fear.  Free of him.
“You’re ok.  You’re ok.”  You reassured him as he broke down in front of you.  “I’m here.”
You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him to you, resting his head on your shoulder as he wept, sobbing and sniffling against your hair and skin.  When his arms tightened around you and held you closer, you couldn’t help but grin.  It had worked.  It had finally worked.
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Cuddled against you, for what felt like an hour, Bucky finally settled. He lifted his head to look at you through bloodshot eyes.  His lips were raw and swollen too but there was peace there under the evidence of his emotional experience.  You stroked his hair back and looked up into his eyes.  He hadn’t said a word since you had begun and you needed to know he was alright.
“Talk to me, Bucky.” You whispered, hands cupping his face gently.  “I need your words.”
He blushed slightly, looking down coyly before meeting your gaze firmly.  “Thank you, Goddess.”
The barked laugh that escaped you was full of delight.  After all of that, he still managed to make your proud.  “You had me worried.”  You let out a relieved breath.  “I’m going to get you some water, but I’ll be right back, okay?  Is there anything else you want or need?”
“There is one thing, Goddess.”
“Yes?”
“Can I kiss you, Goddess?”
Your heart jolted in your chest.  This was something you had wanted for quite some time but had been unable to cross that line.  Now that Bucky was asking, could you really deny him this one thing?  Normally you wouldn’t kiss clients, rarely would you have sex with them either unless it was a part of their experience.
“You would like to kiss me?  Is that right, Bucky?”  That was exactly what he had asked for and the distinction was important.  He wanted to kiss you, not he wanted you to kiss him.
“Very much so, Goddess, yes.”
You searched his face looking for any sign that there might be something wrong but all you could see was adoration and bliss behind the puffiness of his eyes and mouth.
“You’re going to drink some water first.”  You said, cupping his face in your hands once more.  “And if you want to kiss me when you’re done then, yes, you may.”
Bucky grinned brightly, a flash of brilliance before his face relaxed again.  He took the cup of water and downed it without hesitation, handing the paper cup back to you with a shaking hand.
When his eyes met yours you froze.  Bucky had submitted to you willingly but it wasn’t his natural state.  The glint in his eye as he reached out to pull you forward between his spread legs once more, was intoxicating.
He stroked his fingertips across your cheek, sliding them into the hair behind your ear, his metal hand rested on your waist.  “Is this okay?”  He asked in a whisper.  Your preferred title forgotten in the moment but you didn’t mind, not for this.
“Yes.”  Breathy and needy.
Bucky leaned in slowly, allowing you time to stop him if you needed to.  When his lips met yours it was in the lightest touch.  He grazed his lips back and forth, coaxing yours apart slightly before sealing the kiss gently.  There was no tongue, no teeth, just a sweet pressing of his mouth to yours as he held you there for a while, savouring you.
When he parted from you, a sigh left your lips and he grinned.  Resting his forehead on yours he held you as he had before, stroking his thumb where your cheek met your ear.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while but I didn’t think you would let me.”  He confessed.
You chuckled.  “I’ve wanted to do that for a while but didn’t think it was appropriate.”
“Can I do it again, Goddess?”
“Yes, Bucky, you may.”
 He claimed your mouth in a sensual kiss, mouths open, his tongue licking into you like you were a delicacy to be savoured.  Bucky slowly devoured you and it felt amazing.  You closed your eyes to the world and sunk into the feeling of his lips on yours, his taste mixing with yours.  This thing between you was evolving into something new.  What it would be, you had no idea but that in itself was exciting. Who would have thought that meeting the world’s most wanted assassin would prove to be the most fulfilling experience of your life.  Things were still dangerous for him, for both of you, but from this moment forward you were both in it together.  You and Bucky against the world.
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burberrycanary · 2 months
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Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions)
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His phone stays silent.
He hopes wherever Bucky is, he’s safe and comfortable and warm.
It’s an old thought, already worn smooth with handling as Steve picks the feeling back up. But this ain’t the same.
Bucky can take care of himself and has, even when so badly hurt Steve’s mind can’t understand any part: how such a thing can be done to a man, how Bucky came out on the other side still with his whole self, rediscovered, rebuilt—Steve doesn’t know the word for a thing like that. Whatever Bucky did in those two lost years: that struggle he took on, alone.
But every miracle has a mystery at the heart of it, or all you’d have is some unlikely turn you didn’t see coming but makes sense just fine, passed through and looking back.
A lot in Steve’s life doesn’t make sense. 
But then Steve has had a life that’s blazed with terrible miracles.
A man goes into a box and the same man and a different man comes out. The box can be as small as a coffin or as big as a blood-soaked century.
Read Chapter 38 on AO3
Many thanks to my betas @village-skeptic​​​​​​​​​​​, @booksandabeer​​​​​​​​​​​ and @zenaidamacrouras1​​​​​​​​​​​ 🥰
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Lost soldier
a collaboration by @gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes  and @cobaltmoonysart for the @capreversebb
Fic Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Characters:  James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Clint Barton, Various MCU Characters
Word Count: 25K
Main Tags: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Canon-Typical Violence, Memory Loss, Loss of Identity, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Falling In Love Again, Healing in Wakanda, Happy Ending
Summary:
Tailing two suspicious men in suits, Peter Parker comes across a wounded Bucky Barnes in an alley. Together with Ned, they construct a plan to locate and find Captain Rogers. Things don’t go as expected, beginning a madcap ride through the streets of Brooklyn, meeting a cast of characters, clashing with Hydra, and ending with a stolen quinjet to Wakanda.
Excerpt: below the cut
Natasha answered on the first try. “They found you already?”
Clint kept his voice low and his eyes forward; he didn’t want to be overheard talking to Romanov. “What? No.”
“Other problems?”
“When were you going to tell me Rogers was gay?”
He could almost hear the snark of her grin on the other line. Was he the only one who didn’t know? Again?
“Does it matter?”
Clint considered the question. Did it matter?
“It sure the hell does. Barnes is more important than I thought. We’re dealing with a significant other here, and that compromises Rogers. How long has this been going on?”
“Oh,” Nat hesitated evilly to make him wait. “Since 1936, give or take.”
READ THE ENTIRE WORK ON AO3!
Groveling on the ground with thanks to @hanitrash for the beta, cheerleading, and promotion! SO glad I met you! Here’s to boys finding the perfect socks!
Also, major kudos to the mods. This bang was a ton of fun, and I’ll definitely be participating in the next one! ❤️
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sarahowritesostucky · 18 days
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Awww, somebody translated my fic What the Hell is a Sexual Surrogate? into Russian!
Thanks WTF Infinity Starbucks 2024!
You can read it here in English:
And here in Russian:
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hanitrash · 2 years
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You Make This All Go Away
My first post for the @capreversebb is up! I had the joy of working with @koiponderingart for this amazing piece, and I'm so happy to finally be sharing it with all of you!
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Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Extremely Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Spit As Lube, Come as Lube, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Feral Winter Soldier, Unreliable Narrator, Steve Rogers makes questionable decisions as always, Bottom Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Cries, implied past relationship, implied established relationship, Overstimulation, Come Feeding
Summary:
Six months after the helicarrier fight, strange security breaches at the Smithsonian have Steve, Natasha, and Sam running stakeouts, hoping to catch the person responsible—the person they believe to be one very elusive Bucky Barnes. In what is probably his most bizarre undercover op ever, Steve finally makes contact with the man he thought he’d lost forever. What he’s not prepared for is what happens after, when Bucky appears in Steve’s apartment in the middle of the night.
Notes: this is also a fill for Hanitrash for both the @mcukinkbingo and the @cabottombingo, squares N5 and D3, both for "saliva" prompt (spit as lube tag, chapter two, cross-posted with permission from artist)
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dcangstfiction · 12 days
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Chapter 10 is up! Fandom: Captain America, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Agent Carter Rating: Teen+ Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Howard Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peggy Carter, background/canon Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Timothy "Dum Dum" Dugan, Jacques Dernier, Jim Morita, Howling Commandos, Peggy Carter, Howard Stark Additional Tags: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Torture, Isolation, Sleep Deprivation, Amnesia, Temporary Amnesia, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, 1940s, Bucky Barnes Feels, Time Travel, Angst, Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multiverse, Alternate Timelines, Sam Wilson is a Gift, BAMF Bucky Barnes, Soft Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Minor Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Remembers, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Steve Rogers Summary:
“Holy shit.” Dugan stepped out from behind the tree, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging slack as he stared at Steve. “Cap?”
Bucky and Sam from the 21st century team up with 1946 Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos to rescue a lost Sergeant from a secret Siberian facility.
Go to Chapter 10
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achubbydumpling · 2 years
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Could you write something about bucky getting chubby and getting insecure about that. So Steve gains a bit too and they realize they both like it? <3
thank you for this ask, nonnie, idk if this is what you had in mind, but I was inspired, though I did end up asking myself: is this... whump? but if you get through all the hurt there's some saccharine, sappy comfort at the end, I promise! 🤗
Rating: Mature Words: 1763 Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Negative Self-Talk (Self-Worth Connected To Weight), Hurt/Comfort, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Hurt Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Chubby Bucky Barnes, Chubby Steve Rogers
Bucky was painfully aware of how tightly his shirt was stretching over his body. He couldn’t do much to hide it but he still sat slumped over with his arms crossed in front of his body.
He’s been gaining weight. The doctors had assured him it was an expected side effect of his recovery but Bucky felt like a foreigner in his body once more. Everyone could see the change and he feared that they’d use it as proof he wasn’t coping as well as he said. What if they decided to put him back in cryo without asking him this time? What if he wasted too much of their time and resources and they kicked him out? What if—
“Buck?”
He looked up (when had he looked down?) and found Steve looking at him, once again with that concerned crease deep between his eyebrows. Bucky cleared his throat and tried to put on a smile.
“Yeah?”
“Is everything ok?” 
Bucky forced his smile wider.
“Of course,” he looked at his half-empty plate (three-quarters full, did he eat too much again?), “I’m just not that hungry.”
He pushed the chair away from the table and went to get up when Steve finally put his foot down.
“I think we should talk.”
Ice water washed over Bucky’s back. This is it. Steve finally has enough or the King or the doctors. He’d finally overstayed his welcome.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered and to his embarrassment his voice wobbled from the tightness in his throat.
“You don’t have to apologize, Buck. I’m just— I’m worried, ok?”
Bucky lifted his head (when did he look down again?). Steve looked at him intently.
“Your appetite hasn’t been the best lately and if you don’t have enough energy that could make you feel worse throughout the day.”
Bucky’s arms tightened around his body. He could feel the softness of his belly. Nausea swept over him.
“I’m just not that hungry,” Bucky insisted again. What else could he say?
“Ok,” Steve sighed, this clearly wasn’t the right answer. “How about we ask for something that’s easy to stomach and high-calorie at your next doctor’s appointment. Is that ok?”
Bucky’s eyes started burning. Steve simply chose to believe his obvious lies and tried to offer solutions. He didn’t deserve this. He’ll just ruin Steve’s life if he stays here. His ruined body is proof of that.
“I don’t want to.”
“You need to eat.”
Bucky swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice steady despite the threatening tears.
“I don’t need as much as you do.”
Steve’s expression hardened and his mouth drew into a thin line. He’s getting fed up with me.
“You were barely fed enough to survive. Your metabolism might be slower right now but it will only recover if you show your body there is enough food and you’re not just surviving off scraps anymore.”
Bucky was surviving right now. Could it get better than this? His eyes burned harder and tears finally welled up. Despite trying to stay quiet a choked sob escapes him. Why now?
Steve gets up and walks around the table to crouch in front of Bucky. He projects all his movements and slowly lays a hand on Bucky’s leg.
“This isn’t about not being hungry, is it?” Bucky sobbed harder and shook his head. Steve’s hand rubbed in slow circles over Bucky’s leg and he wished desperately he could hug Steve right now.
“We don’t have to talk about it right now, but lets get you to lie down, ok?”
Steve had to treat him like a child, talking him through a crying fit. Fuck, he was pathetic, because Bucky was actually glad that he had Steve to lean on to shuffle the few meters to the living room and then curl into a ball on the soft cushions.
The gasping sobs had quieted down a bit when Steve went back to the kitchen to get a paper towel and a glass of water for Bucky.
“Can I?” Steve asked and pointed to the empty space on the sofa where Bucky was curled up. Like the perfect fucking super soldier he was, he waited until Bucky nodded. 
It was humiliating how good it felt that Steve waited that little second.
Steve didn’t talk for a long time and just ran his hand through Bucky’s hair. When he’d started doing that Bucky’s tears had started again but the longer he kept going the calmer Bucky felt until he was ready to wipe his tears away.
He stayed in the same position—curled on his side—and didn’t look at Steve when he started talking.
“I’m sorry. I’m a liar. I’m hungry. I’m so fucking hungry all the time.” Bucky could feel Steve gearing up to say something, but Bucky powered through.
“But I can’t really trust my body, can I? I listened for way too long and now I’m—I—”
His voice falters. He tries to fight through the silence but his throat clamps up.
“I gained weight.” 
It’s barely audible from trying to force the syllables through his steel-tight vocal chords.
Steve breathes out hard, but stays quiet. Still, stroke-stroke-stroking his hand through Bucky’s hair. This was the worst kind of confessional. He keeps going. Everything’s ruined now anyway.
“I feel so fucking useless. I just take and take and take. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how you can even stand looking at me. I get it. I’ll understand if you want me to go away, I promise. You don’t have to keep this up. Really, I’m sorry.”
Tears prickled at the corners of Bucky’s eyes again and he bit his bottom lip to keep them at bay this time. He waited for Steve to finally say something and when he stayed quiet for a second and another, he finally dared to look over.
Steve was the one crying now. Silently. While he slowly shook his head.
“You—” Steve’s voice cracked but he kept talking, “—don’t have anything to be sorry for. I should have—”
He stops talking again, shakes his head once and sighs again.
“Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve…” Bucky recognises the mantra from Steve’s therapist.
“I wish I could take all those thoughts and just make them disappear. You deserve so much. You deserve to be here and I’m glad you’re here. Your weight doesn’t change that. It’s not going to change anything.”
Bucky buried his nose against the cushion he was lying on. His heart clenched tight and didn’t let up.
“I’ll say it until you believe it,” Steve broke off into a teary laugh.
They sat quietly for another moment until Steve quietly asked, “can I give you a hug?”
Bucky froze at the question. As much as he craved the contact and the feeling of Steve’s body against his, that question alone sent his brain into a scramble of panic.
“Give me a second,” he choked out.
His eyes stayed looking at an unfixed point on the floor while he worked through the flare of panic in his brain. He’d—They’d been forcing him to see a therapist and she’d been big on breathing. Breathing deep. In and out. Infuriatingly slowly.
“Do you want—”
“I’ll give you a hug.”
“—some water?”
They looked at each other stunned for a moment.
“Not right now. I can’t—I’m—”
“I get it,” Steve said easily. Bucky’s throated tightened again when he realised Steve actually meant it.
He took the glass of water he was offered and emptied it in one gulp.
They went through the rest of the evening quietly. Steve sent an e-mail to Bucky’s therapist when Bucky couldn’t get his thumbs to type anything. They cleaned up the dishes and put away the leftovers. Bucky had another glass of water and then they headed to their bedrooms.
Steve hesitated for a moment before he turned the door knob and when he looked up Bucky thought they’d turned back time a few decades.
“I’m really glad you’re here.”
Bucky dashed forward for the quickest hug in human history before he high-tailed it into the safety of his bedroom. His heart was beating like he’d sprinted a marathon, but the tightness in his chest loosened by a fraction.
+++
Steve stays after that. Just for a bit, he said but days turn into weeks and Steve stays. 
He settled down in a way Bucky didn’t notice Steve hadn’t.
His toothbrush wanders from the kit he’d take on missions into the cup on the sink. The book he’s reading stays upside down on the coffee table instead of bookmarked and carefully placed back into the shelf.
They develop a routine. One that isn’t dictated by missions, mission prep and debriefs. Instead they rise with the sun. The first order of their day is breakfast and time spent outside. Easy companionship. Reading in silence.
It’s on one of those mornings that Bucky notices it.
The way Steve had softened a bit.
The weight.
His breath caught in his throat and he waited for that ugly hatred, the clawing at his throat and vile thoughts that plagued him when he looked in the mirror for too long.
But it never came.
He looked at Steve and saw comfort and warmth. The growing softness made him feel at home. Like tangible proof that Steve was here to stay. Safe and healthy. It took much longer for it to click in Bucky’s mind. 
That’s me, he thought one morning while watching Steve in the bathroom mirror brushing his teeth. 
A bit of pudge underneath his chin that isn’t completely hidden underneath his beard anymore. Chubby cheeks that make his eyes crinkle when he smiles. Soft, wide arms that looked too inviting for Bucky to resist the urge to hug Steve in that moment.
A startled laugh and then Bucky was enveloped in a full-body hug. The sharp smell of mint made his nose wrinkle, but Steve’s scent took over just a few moment later. Big, wide shoulders and a chubby belly, warmth bubbles up into Bucky’s chest and he can’t do anything but hug Steve even tighter.
And in that moment he doesn’t even mind his own belly pressing against Steve’s.
“What’s this for?” Steve asks eventually when he tries to go back to brushing his teeth and Bucky whines until he keeps hugging him.
“Being here.” Bucky shrugged, “loving me the way I am when I couldn’t.”
“Oh, Buck.” Steve couldn’t say anything more after that, he swallowed hard and tried a few times but then he just tightened his arms even further and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead.
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possumwoodpie · 1 year
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Chapter Two is up!
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copiumm · 1 year
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Chapter 1-3 (so far) of a multi-chapter post-CA:WS piece for FebuWhump. 
“He just showed up,” Steve said, lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder. He hadn’t known what else to do, so he called Sam. “About an hour ago.”
Two weeks Post-CA:WS, after Steve returns from the hospital, Bucky shows up on his doorstep. He tries to help Bucky the best he can, but things aren't always as easy as he wishes they were.
OR
Copiumm writes a story that's been written 1001 times.
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Though they didn’t have a lot of overlapping time, I think Bucky and Vision could have had some great conversations about what makes a person human vs. a weapon and the general topic of bodily autonomy.
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painted-doe · 2 years
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New chapter is up, at long last!
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crushedbyhyperbole · 1 year
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Bewitched
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Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character (First Person Bucky POV)
Summary:  After a poker game ends in victory for Bucky, one of his team mates doesn't take it lying down. Wanda Maximoff is a sore loser and seeks revenge in any way she can, which leads to an unexpected encounter between Bucky and the illustrious Dr Veronica Edwards, in the form of a Maximoff-aided vision.
Bucky has only just realised that he no longer dislikes the woman but this encounter ramps that all the way up to eleven. Things that are seen can't be unseen and things that are felt will be realised.
Words:  4.3k
Note:   Part four of Muscle Memory.  In this we see a more confident Bucky who is starting to find his way through his new life, learning things about himself and others and also about what he wants.  It's just an excuse for some smut really. Sorry about the shitty banner but I hope you enjoy ;)  Comments, likes & reblogs are very much appreciated
Warnings:  Smut, voyeurism, coming untouched, mind control, dub con - it's very mild and pre-implied that Wanda can't make Bucky see things he doesn't want to see.
***18+ content - this content is created for adults - minors do not interact***
Bucky Barnes MasterList  
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Wanda Maximov was a sore loser.  Ever since I beat her at a friendly low(ish) stakes poker game here at the compound the other week, she’d been trying to get revenge.
The Scarlet Witch had apparently been trying to read my mind during the game.  Maybe I was impervious, or maybe it was too fucked up in here for her to get anything from me but she’d been unsuccessful and had huffed like a teenager afterwards.
“If I’d known Metallica over there was going to clean all the ladies out, I’d have suggested playing for clothes instead.”  Stark had said out of the corner of his mouth; a joke that was meant for everyone to hear and to be a suggestion for next time.
“He cheated.”  Wanda exclaimed for the umpteenth time.  “He used his abilities to tell if I was bluffing.”
“Love,” Vision tried to calm her, “he can’t help it if your poker-face left nothing to the imagination.”  He smiled softly as Wanda slapped his shoulder, too hard to be just playful.
Vision still hadn’t mastered many facial expressions; a smirk was beyond him at this point.
“If it makes you feel better, you can take the money.”  I offered.  Funny though Vision’s comment had been, I could tell she was raging inside.
“Money can’t buy pride.”  She huffed as she left.
I mouthed the word ‘sorry’ to Vision before awkwardly scooping up my winnings of $1791.
Later I would donate the money to one of Pepper’s charity recommendations; the little princess foundation.
Since that night, Wanda had been trying to haze me by drinking my beer, eating my snacks, and even deleting my recorded tv programs from the Teevo.  The only problem with that was that I didn’t really record anything and she only succeeded in pissing Steve off because it was his stuff that she canned.  This made her more annoyed.
“I forgive you for drinking my beer.  And I’m sorry about the poker.”  I said when Steve and I had confronted her about the Teevo.  “If I’d have known it was so important to you I’d have backed down.”
That hadn’t helped at all.  She’d raged out and tried to tap me with her power.  When it didn’t take properly she stormed off again, leaving me feeling dizzy and a little nauseous.
“She’s getting benched until she sorts her attitude out.”  Steve grumbled.  “I can’t have loose cannons out there on mission when we could all be fighting for our lives.  She’d be a liability.”
“That’s probably a little harsh.  I’ll just tell her I cheated.  It’s far easier than the alternative.”  I gave him a reassuring smile.
“She tried to read your mind, what’s that if not cheating?  All you did was read the signs in her body language.  The super-soldier serum doesn’t enhance perception, Buck.”
“I know that, but I’ll take one for the team on this.  She’s an asset but she’s lost her way.  I know what that’s like more than anyone.”
“You’re a good friend, Buck, always were.  That’s one thing that will never change.”
Despite me agreeing that I cheated, and telling everyone else that she was right - I’d cheated, she still wouldn’t drop her vendetta.  She behaved nicely to my face but behind my back she was like a snake in the grass.  She figured out that she couldn’t fuck with my mind like she wanted, couldn’t make me see things I didn’t want to see, but she could do it to everyone else.
“What was that you just said?”  Sam said to me when we were going through schematics for a target building in the next day’s mission.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Nah, nah, nah, I heard you.  You called me bird-brain.”
I searched his face for any sign of a joke but all I caught was the slight red mist that tainted the whites of his eyes and I knew what was going on.  Christ!
It carried on like that for another day or two after the next day’s mission, so I decided I was just going to stay in my room until it was time to do my job.  But soon I had people knocking on my door or calling me at all hours of the day and night, asking my why I’d shouted for them or why I’d called them and hung up.  I was getting frustrated.
After that I’d taken to sleeping in one of the Escalades I’d park in various places around the compound, only coming inside when I needed to eat, train or shower.
It was one of those nights I saw her.  Veronica.  Asleep on the sofa in the communal lounge.
I’d come in to grab a quick meal, sneaking in through the glass doors of the spacious first floor lounge.  It was easy for me to scale up onto the roof-top patio and let myself in silently with my keycard.  I spent decades being a ghost, a shadow seldom seen, that part of the training hadn’t gone away.
The light was low and rosy with a flickering starkness from the muted TV.  She lay stretched out on the 4-seater, one leg bent, knee against the backrest, and the other laid out flat.  She had one hand tucked behind her head and the other hung loosely over the edge of the seat cushion where her book had fallen from her fingers and lay crumpled on the floor.
Her hair cascaded over the arm rest beautifully and her long lashes flickered against her cheeks as she dreamed, her lips slightly parted.  She looked so serene.
It only felt like a moment that I stood there watching but as I took the opportunity to look at her without the scorn of her scrutiny, to really see her, I noticed things about her that I’d never paid attention to before.  She was stunning.
What the fuck, man?  You suddenly realise you don’t hate her and now you’re making the ‘goo-goo eyes’?
Her legs were smooth and graceful, the skin lightly tanned and almost glowing with inner radiance.  The light grey sports shorts she wore showed them off perfectly, the black trim around the edge where it clipped up at her hip gave way to a sliver of white underwear.  The waistband of the shorts sat low on her hips and the way the fabric bunched between her legs showed the perfect v of her mound.
God damn!
My heart quickened.  I shouldn’t be staring like this but she looked divine and honestly I had never had the opportunity to see her this way, relaxed and unguarded.
Jesus Christ!
Her belly button was a delicate oval peeking underneath the white of her vest, stomach smooth like her thighs and also lightly tanned.  The white fabric was a little loose over her ribs but stretched tight across her breasts which were… holy fuck!  Glorious.  They were larger than they seemed, parted slightly as she lay there braless.  The slight outline and soft peak of her nipples so painfully obvious to me.
I felt my groin tingle as pressure began to build.  What the hell was I thinking?  I was going to spontaneously combust.
Mentally shaking myself, I made a move toward the kitchen; my goal had been a meal and then right back to the Escalade.  I set my eyes on the kitchen and clenched my jaw.  I had to go.
One step.  One small movement to sidestep the sofa that had put me at Veronica’s feet.  That was all I managed before a sensation of proximity at my shoulder told me I’d made a grave mistake.
I felt the jolt, like I had many times before.  It was like a puff of air against the skin of my temple, but it penetrated and seeped into my head, settling like ash over my consciousness.  All the other times I’d managed to shake myself loose before Wanda’s mind tap had taken hold but this time I’d fucked up.  Big time.
The scarlet smoke shrouded my vision and the only thing that pulled me through was a heavenly sigh that deepened into a soft moan, and I swear it pulled on my cock so hard I almost stumbled forward.
Blinking rapidly to clear my eyes, I let the dizziness dissipate.  That had been a close one.
There was no sign of Wanda when I scanned for her.  Stretching my senses outward yielded nothing, there was just me and the sleeping woman on the sofa.  Veronica.
She moaned lightly in her sleep, a hint of sexual need lay in the sound and it made my cock twitch in my sweatpants.  Her back arched a little, pushing her breasts up further, stretching the fabric of her vest until I could see her nipples as slightly darker rounds beneath the sheer white vest.  They were achingly hard, like my cock.  I watched her hand slip up over one breast, fingers circling the bud through her clothes.
Holy shit!
I knew I shouldn’t stay to watch but I was fucked if I wasn’t rooted to the spot, my erection begging for attention.  Screwing my eyes shut, I tried to will my legs to move but they wouldn’t obey.  Maybe I needed more time to come down from Wanda’s mental touch, she’d almost got me this time after all.
Panicking a little because I knew I couldn’t get caught here like this, my heart thudded in my chest, making more blood pump straight to where it was most definitely not needed.
“Bucky…”  Her sigh kickstarted my adrenaline, making my eyes fly open.  It had been so soft, barely a whisper but it had hit me like a sucker punch.
I watched in disbelief as her other hand snaked down into the front of her little shorts, covering the smoothness of her mons, fingers teasing lazily.
I moaned then, low and guttural, stirring her from her sleep.  Her eyes fluttered open and she sighed deeply, relishing the sensations she was creating.
Shit!  I needed to run, get the fuck out of there before she fully came to and realised I’d been watching her, but my legs… Fucking traitorous things!  Thighs of betrayal.  Feet like cement blocks.  They wouldn’t move.  It was like when HYDRA had given me the first damn arm and I’d struggled to integrate with it; it had seemed to have a mind of its own.
She focused on me but instead of shock and horror, a sultry smile curled her lips and she blinked slowly.  My hand was gripping my crotch through my sweats half to cover my obvious arousal and half to create friction.  She flicked a glance down my body before closing her eyes again and resuming her finger play.  She definitely noticed.
Oh my god!
After a few panicked and torturous moments watching her tease herself, and me along with it, I slipped my hand into my pants and gave myself the long slow stroke I craved, sighing with relief as I did.
Veronica was looking at me again, watching me loosely stroking under my pants as she did the same, eyes moving between my face and the rise and fall of the clothing over my crotch.
It felt amazing, exciting even, having someone look at me the way she did then, lust-filled and wanton.  My cock was solid in my hand, the tight feeling grew as I slowly built my pleasure from the heavy pressure between my hips.
She bit her plump lower lip, catching it in her teeth and drawing her lips up into another seductive smile.  She knew exactly what she was doing to me, she knew she was wrecking me without even laying a finger on me.
“Mmmmmm.”  She moaned a little louder and ground her hips as her fingers circled quicker.  “Bucky!”  She gasped, pinching her nipple hard through her clothes.
“Jesus!”  I throbbed so hard even my asshole clenched.
If I wanted nothing more for the rest of my life it was her.  To touch her, kiss her, and bury myself in her so deep I’d get lost forever.
“Show me….”  She sighed as if she read my mind.
So I did, sliding my sweats down under my tightening sack, letting my cock bounce free and the goddess before me grinned, she actually fucking grinned, eyes flashing with desire.
How is this even real?
“Do you want me, Bucky?”  She sighed erotically as she spoke, sending a spark of tingling pleasure across my scalp and down my spine where it ignited something in me that was long forgotten.
“I’ve always wanted you.”  The admission was new but it felt right.  So fucking right.  “I just didn’t see it.”
I saw it now though, laid out in full.  The soft adrenaline and serotonin peaks every time I saw her, that uneasy feeling in my gut - it was attraction.  Each memory of her was a map back to that one sensation that I felt so strongly now I knew I always had; I wanted her, badly.
I had been stroking myself throughout that little realisation and she had been touching herself too.  Her eyes were locked on mine until suddenly she gasped and cried out softly, closing them lightly against the pleasure she’d felt.
“I want you too.”   Her face was flushed and she looked more beautiful than anything I’d ever seen.  “But we can’t.”
“Boyfriend?”  Was all I could say, the lump in my throat making my voice no more than a croak.
She nodded slowly, biting her lip again as she watched me fucking into my own fist.
“I’m starting not to care too much about that, doll.”  And just like that, forties Bucky was right there, all confident and suave.
Fuck me, I’m going to hell for this.
She clawed at the neckline of her vest, dragging the material down under her perfect breasts, baring them for me as if she wasn’t tempting enough already.
I hadn’t even touched her yet and I was ready to pop.  The singing of my nerves was too much and embarrassingly I started to come.
Shit, no!
I fell to my knees, gripping the base of my cock fiercely in a futile attempt to stave off my oncoming release but –
“Ahhh, holy fucking hell, Vee…”  I moaned as I came, hunched forward with one hand braced against the floor and the other squeezing my cock in a death grip.
It was as exquisite as it was guilty and as if seeing me come undone was enough for her, she cried out, back arching in her own release.
My god she looked divine, all flushed and glowing and… just wait a goddamn minute!
What did I call her?  Vee?  I never call her that.  I don’t even like that name on her.  Then what the…?  Oh, fuck my life!
My anger flared as I pushed against my own consciousness.  None of this was real but I’d been so absorbed in what I was feeling that I hadn’t seen it for what it was.  I was stuck in Wanda’s mind fuck, literally.
When I thought I’d avoided her mind tap it had all been part of the process, to lure me in, make me think I was safe.  She’d really suckered me with that one.
It took a few seconds for me to come me back to myself.  Dizziness and nausea kicking in the second I refocused on the real world.
I was on my knees by the sofa, clothing intact but a sticky sensation inside my underwear.  Christ I’d actually come untouched like a fucking teenager.  That was more than a little embarrassing but there were more pressing matters.
Panicking, I glanced at Veronica.  She was still there on the sofa sleeping restlessly now, looking like she had when I’d first seen her there only the flush of her skin was unmistakeable.  She subtly rolled her hips, grinding against some imagined thing between her thighs and Oh Jesus Christ!  The light grey of her shorts was darkened with wetness; proof of her arousal.
She sighed in her sleep, hand trailing over her hip, fingers slipping into the waistband of her shorts.  And fuck me if I wasn’t getting hard again.
I bolted.  My feet obeying me without question.  Food forgotten, I slipped out of the communal area silent but watchful; Wanda had to be around here somewhere.  I headed for my room.
What the hell had she done to me?  Putting shit like that in my head.  It was one thing to prank someone but this was something else.  What if I’d have raged out?  Hurt someone?  I was only just starting to trust myself and get my shit back together, the last thing anyone around here needed was to have to contain a regressed Winter Soldier.  What if I’d hurt Veronica?
Fuck!
What had she been doing there in the first place?  She didn’t live on site but it sure looked like she was staying the night, what with the little shorts and vest and all.
I slammed the door to my room, hard.  I didn’t much care if I woke people up.
I saw her again in my mind’s eye, flushed and aroused, and touching herself.  Oh come on, that wasn’t her, that was Wanda’s mind fuck.  But Veronica had really been aroused, and I’d just left her there in the communal area.  What if someone else found her, she’d be so embarrassed.
“FRIDAY?”  I said, breathing like I’d ran a circuit of the compound.
“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”
“Can you put the volume on the TV in the lounge?  Loud enough to wake Dr Edwards?  I don’t think she’ll want to sleep on the sofa all night.”
“No problem!”
“Oh, and FRIDAY?”
“Yes Sergeant?”
“Don’t tell anyone I asked you.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
I could practically hear the wink in her tone.  It was still unnerving how human she, it, sounded.
The shower was cold.  It needed to be.
I’d made a mess in my briefs but that wasn’t the most disturbing thing.  Now that I’d had the mental image of Veronica, Dr Edwards, all hot and lusty and so fucking beautiful, I couldn’t get her out of my head.
I felt restless and agitated, almost giddy.
Jesus, what are you, twelve?
As furious as I was with Wanda, I had to admit to myself that I was also happy?  Her little prank was unorthodox but somehow it had connected a piece of my broken emotions to the person who sparked it.  It felt right even if it was wrong to feel that way.  I could deny myself the urge and deny myself the act but as long as I knew what I was feeling and could give it a name, I was ok with it.  Baby steps.
There was a knock at my door.
Shivering and feeling strangely alive I wrapped a towel around my waist and left the bathroom, trailing wet footprints across the floor.
There was a little excitement growing in my gut but also a healthy dose of dread.  What if someone had seen me in the lounge with Veronica.  I didn’t do anything wrong, but still…
I opened the door to Steve, and Wanda.  The Scarlet Witch had the sense to look thoroughly ashamed of herself and Steve looked furious.
“Sup?”  I pitched for nonchalant and landed somewhere near perky.
Steve raised an eyebrow.
“Everything ok?”  He glanced around my room, as if expecting to see someone else.
“Yeah.”  I beckoned them in before hunting out one of the complimentary bathrobes that I never used.
“You know why we’re here right?”
“I reckon so.”  My eyes never left Wanda’s but she wouldn’t look at me.
“Go ahead.”  Steve nudged Wanda gently with his elbow.
“I’m sorry for what I did tonight.  I know things could have gotten out of hand and someone could have gotten hurt.  I wasn’t thinking.”
“What exactly did you do, Wanda?”  I was mad at her but I kept my face as relaxed as possible, which was to say I was scowling.
“I used my powers on you.”  She had tears in her eyes.
“Tell him everything.”  Steve said sternly.
Oh god, no, don’t say that shit out loud.  I thought, panicking.
“Wait a sec-“
“I tapped your mind right down to your base emotion, to draw out your trauma.  I tried to hurt you Bucky, and I’m sorry.”
There was something dark in her eyes.  Did she know what I’d seen, what I’d felt?  Had she put it all in there?
I took a step back, huffing a breath out through my nose.  “You see what I saw?”  My heart was pounding.
She shook her head, looking at the floor; a lie.
Well fuck.
“I’m sorry.”  She gasped.  “I didn’t know there was someone else there, they kind of got hit with a bit of my power and I was so worried you’d…”  She trailed off as the tears began.
“Hurt them?  Yeah, I could have.”  I bit out.  “It was a pretty shitty thing to do, Wanda, and all over a stupid game of poker.  You couldn’t just drop it after I lied and told everyone I cheated you?”
I paced, gradually getting more frustrated.
“You know what, just go.  I’ll talk to you about this some other time.  Right now I just wana sleep on something that’s not a damn car seat, alright?  No more harassing me.”
She nodded.
“Ok, get outa here.”  I flapped my hand towards the door without looking at her.
I quizzed Steve nonverbally with a stern look.
“Vision brought her to my room, concerned.”  Steve said once the door had closed after her.  “He said she came to their room, upset because she thought she’d triggered you.  She hadn’t realised there was someone else in the room until it was too late.”
“Yeah, it was Dr Edwards.”  I said with an annoyed sigh.  There was no point in saying I didn’t know.  “Is she ok?”
“Yeah she’s fine.  She fell asleep on the sofa but was awake when I got there, she was just taking herself off to bed actually.”
To bed?  I raised an eyebrow.  So she was staying at the compound tonight after all.
As if reading my question on my face he continued.
“She’s staying here a while.”  He rolled his eyes as if the story was tedious.  “Boyfriend issues.”
“Right.”  I tried not to put too much thought into it.  “She say anything about getting tapped when Wanda got me?”
“I asked her if she was ok and she just said she’d had a weird dream, wished me good night, took her book and went off to her room.”
I nodded.  Weird dream, huh?  I bet.  If it was anything like mine then she was bound to be pretty confused right now.  In the grand scheme of things, sharing a wet dream with her was better than sharing one of my other dreams.  There’d have been nothing but pain, horror and torture for both of us if that had happened.
“Well that’s something.”  I said, distracted.
“Are you sure you’re ok, Buck?  I mean, stripping you down to your base emotions had to be traumatic.  Do you wanna talk about it?”
“I’m good.”  I smiled weakly.  I mean I was, and I wasn’t, but it wasn’t what he was thinking.  “It wasn’t as bad as you think.  I don’t think she got that deep anyway, it was mostly recent things I saw, not the HYDRA stuff or the torture.  It was nothing like my nightmares.”
Steve nodded thoughtfully, not quite allowing himself to feel relieved.
“Don’t worry about me Steve, I’m doing better.  I don’t want people to think I’m just going to flip a switch and regress back into him.”  I snorted ironically.  My thinking on this really had changed over the last few weeks.  Now I didn’t doubt myself so much things were better.  “Just… Whatever Wanda’s deal is, that needs to be sorted out.”
And then there’s the matter about what she saw when she was meddling in my mind.  I had to know.
“Yeah about that.”  Steve said cringing.  “Vision said it’s hormones.”
“She’s…?”  I made the ‘round belly’ gesture.  That was a shock.  I guess I never thought about the possibility before.  That Vision could-.
“Oh hell no!  She’s not pregnant.”  Steve said the last word through a grimace.  “Her inner moon-goddess is on the hunt.”  He finished, all hush hush as if even hinting at the words ‘period’ and ‘horny’ in the same sentence was the worst thing in the world.
I laughed hard.  Steve was such a kid sometimes.
“Christ, man.  I was right back in school with ya there for a second.”
His goofy grin warmed me inside and I broke into another snickering laugh.
“Get outa here, punk.  This old man has got a whole lot of sleep to catch up on.”
Leaving me alone with my thoughts probably wasn’t the best thing to do.  Without the distraction of another person in the room, all I could think about was Veronica.  I stretched out on my bed in a pair of jockey shorts and closed my eyes.  Of all the things to have visions of as you fall asleep, a beautiful, semi-naked woman is definitely not the worst.  If it came to a choice between dreams of my past or erotic dreams of a woman I’d only just realised I didn’t hate, then I knew which one I preferred.  Guilty feeling or not, I’d go with the girl.
As I drifted towards sleep I heard an echo of her sighing my name.  Smiling, I surrendered my mind to the night.
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froggie-recs-fics · 2 years
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Hi there! I've had the most stressful week....and it's only been a day ! Could really use a nice warm cozy fic! I would definitely love a good Stucky rec.
Maybe a nice long (40k+) recovery fic? What are your faves? Dazzle me! The more the domestic Stucky the better!
Thank you!
Hi!! Sorry for the delay, hopefully your week didn't get worse!
I had a little trouble with this one, because the angstier the better for me, but I have a few here. 
These are all Bucky recovering (and Steve recovering), with some fluffier than others.
Shorter than 40,000:
Need to Mean It, Concede It by hjbaltimore (M, 2K, Post-CATWS, Touch-starved Bucky, Praise Kink, HTP (but not really))
"You’re so beautiful. You’re so amazing Buck. What’d I ever do to deserve you,” he mumbled into to crook of Bucky’s neck, letting his voice drop as low it could, feeling the vibrations bounce off Bucky’s skin.
Bucky writhed underneath him. “You’re such an embarrassing sap,” he said, almost trying to sound annoyed, and failing.
Bucky just wants to have a normal sex life, one that Hydra took away to ensure a more compliant soldier. Steve just wants Bucky to be happy. When you're as starved for positive attention as Bucky is, only the gentlest touches will do.
For a prompt where Bucky can only get hard from praise and attention to non-erogenous parts of his body.
The First Rule of Book Club Is You Absolutely Talk About Book Club by Deisderium (T, 4K, Post-CATWS, POV-Outsider)
The first man to participate in Janelle's book club is a very shy long-haired guy who's probably a vet, given the prosthetic arm. She really wants the book club ladies to be his friend, and is delighted when he invites his tall blond--friend? Boyfriend? to come to book club too.
we'll eat cake by the ocean by NoStringsOnMe (T, 6K, Established Relationship)
“It’s all patience and learning, m' darlin’,” she’d say and lay a gentle kiss into his hair. “But the real special ingredient is love, you hear me, James Barnes? When you mix in your love, it turns a pauper’s meal into a king’s feast.”
|| Bucky Barnes has been to hell and back. But he's healing. Through his newly rediscovered love of cooking, he starts to come back to himself in ways he could never have anticipated.
we carry our lives around in our memories by biblionerd07 (Gen, 8K, Post-CATWS, PTSD, Memory loss)
James doesn't remember why he has a metal arm. The doctors say he had an accident and has brain damage. Sometimes he wishes he could remember. But every morning he gets to eat breakfast with his friend Steve, so it's not so bad. James thinks he and Steve might be dating, kind of. It's alright if he doesn't remember everything. Steve doesn't mind.
if you keep reaching out (then i'll keep coming back) by unicornpoe (T, 10K, Shrinkyclinks, Artist Steve, Neighbors)
“Do you mind if I work a little, Bucky?” He says Bucky’s name as often as Bucky says Steve’s, like maybe he likes the feel of it, the music of it—like maybe it’s at the top of his list, too. He’s using strong-looking hands to pick up the satchel he’d been carrying when he came over, lifting it up and sitting it on his lap. “I’m an artist, and I’ve got a couple commissions I hafta finish up here soon.”
Artist. Of course he is.
“I don’t mind,” Bucky says. He doesn’t. He likes the idea of sitting across from Steve while he works, sipping his coffee, finishing the book he was reading, and maybe looking up and meeting Steve’s eyes every now and again.
His shock-blue eyes. His eyes framed with golden lashes, like seagrass.
The Winter Soldier, and a man made of spun-strong gold.
*
Artist Steve Rogers moves in next to the Winter Soldier, who has been missing from the news for two years. Steve wants to paint him more than anything.
His Unspeakable Mercies by betts (M, Violence, 15K, Modern AU, Tattoo artist Steve, Veteran Bucky, PTSD)
Natasha gestures to his shoulder. “The scars. The stump. Put some art on it.” “Oh, sure. Great idea. Point me to the magic markers and we’ll make a day of it.” “Cap the sass, Barnes. I mean like a tattoo.”
Rhapsody in Pink by the1918 (E, 28K, Post-CATWS, Dom/sub)
After being chemically castrated for the entirety of his time as Hydra’s Winter Soldier, Bucky is attempting to recover his life—with the help of his oldest and best friend—when seventy years of a denied libido suddenly comes raging back in a series of graphic hallucinations. Steve is there to help.
(Or: Bucky Barnes’s dick wakes up after a seven-decade nap. It is very interested in Steve Rogers.)
* * * Post-CA:TWS / AOU canon divergence, set at the Avengers up-state facility.
Longer than 40,000:
The Best Way to Wake by LeeHan (E, 42K, Post-CATFA, Friends to Lovers, PTSD)
James Buchanan Barnes lay in a glass pod in the middle of the table, frozen since he fell. Steve’s hands were on the glass before he realized he’d moved. “Wait, Captain!” “Get him out,” Steve whispered, his hands searching for a clasp, a keypad, something. “Captain, we need to keep him in stasis—“ “I said get him out!”
In which Bucky Barnes lay frozen in the Alps for seventy years only to be woken up a year after Steve Rogers was uncovered from the Arctic.
Citius, Altius, Fortius (Faster, Higher, Stronger) by MarcellaBianca (M, CNTW, Underage, 50K, Sports AU, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers)
Steve Rogers. James Barnes.
One, an NHL star with dreams of finally capturing an Olympic gold medal. The other, a former World champion and Olympic silver medalist, now a current coach and choreographer for the top flight figure skaters in the Russian Federation.
But before all of that..they were Steve and Bucky.
Until they weren't.
Catchweight by notlucy (E, 56K, Shrinkyclinks, Dom/sub undertones, Falling in Love)
For the most part, Steve’s life is fine. Sure, his job is tedious, he lives with his mother, and he can’t quite get over thinking he’s wasting his potential, but maybe that’s just part of being twenty-three. Then, one day—one totally dull day—the archetypal cliche of a tall, dark, and handsome beefcake walks up to his counter, bringing with him more questions than answers, and a duffel bag full of cash.
a road less traveled by Claudia_flies, cyclamental art (cyclamental), maichan, zilia (E, CNTW, 75K, Post-Endgame, Post-Avengers, Domestic Avengers)
Steve wakes up on the cold stone floor of the foyer. He scrambles up; there’s glass shards everywhere and they crunch under his gloved hands. People are staring, holding themselves back. They must have seen the fight, must have seen two of him.
His own voice rings in his head.
“Bucky is alive!”
It’s all gone FUBAR in 2012.
There Is No Shortage of Blood by alby_mangroves, Dira Sudis (dsudis) (E, CNTW, 246K, Post-CATWS, Established Relationship, please read the tags for trigger warnings)
The long slow recovery of Bucky Barnes after his escape from HYDRA.
(And the longer, slower recovery of his sex life.)
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darthbloodorange · 2 years
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Bucky explores the modern world as he takes part in Avengers missions, often out of the country for weeks at a time. He enjoys it, but he often finds himself missing Steve. 
He collects postcards from the places he visits and sends them back home to Steve with little love notes.
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For the: ✦ Stuckybingo, prompt: “Long Distance” [Adopted]; (Card: SB033). Bonus: Postcards
Word count: N/a - Moodboard Title: Postcards Rating: Gen Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers Warnings: None Major Tags: Established Relationship, Canon Divergence, Retired Steve Rogers, Avenger Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Postcards, Long-Distance Relationship ~ Summery: Bucky explores the modern world as he takes part in Avengers missions, often out of the country for weeks at a time. He enjoys it, but he often finds himself missing Steve. 
He collects postcards from the places he visits and sends them back home to Steve with little love notes.
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underthemexicansun · 10 days
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Grumpy Bucky in The Falcon and The Winter Soldier.
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