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amarriageoftrueminds · 8 months

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I often think about Bucky using ballet as part of his recovery process / art therapy but this week I have specifically been thinking about Bucky and music.

Bucky recovering his voice through singing, and especially through playing musical instruments (for days when his voice won't come), because it would also be a great way for him to get used to seeing his prosthetic as creative and beautiful rather than destructive

#bucky and music #bucky barnes #ficbunny #stuckbunny #question is... if bucky could play any musical instruments before serum and if so which ones?#and does serum mean he's even better at playing it now?? 🤔#idk sth about bucky being in an amateur band and that's part of his therapy #like imagine bucky singing and learning guitar #also I feel like hawkguy is one of nature's natural drummers so them being disabled-band-bros #bucky and dance #bucky and song #amateur sexyrockband frontman veteran bucky is the vibe #yet each man queues the thing he loves #bucky recovering

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rebelmeg · 3 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Avengers Team Members & James "Bucky" Barnes Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Thor (Marvel) Additional Tags: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Scars, Guilt, Touch-Starved, Nightmares, Avengers Family, Protective Avengers, Developing Friendships Summary:

While Bucky recovers from everything he's been through, the Avengers all pitch in to help him where they can. Russian lullabies, unexpected hugs, and other things aren't what he thought he'd need, but it turns out that his bizarre support group seems to know exactly how to do exactly that: support.

Notes: For my @buckybarnesbingo square B5 – support group and my @lyricalescape bingo square G1 - "The changing tides reflect the light. The day is new."

#rebelmeg's fanfic #buckybarnesbingo2023 #lyrical escape bingo #bucky barns fanfiction #avengers #bucky & avengers #supportive friends #avengers family #bucky recovering #fanfic #mcu

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sweaterkittensahoy · 2 months

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The humanitarian mission in the final episode of Masters of the Air is one of the most beautiful character moments in the whole show.

Here's Buck Cleven, one of the great leaders of the Bloody 100th. He literally got away from a POW death march because his best friend in the world made him go first.

Here's Rosie Rosenthal, one of the great leaders of the Bloody 100th. On his second mission, he saw Buck Cleven go down. On his third, he saw Bucky Egan go down. They weren't there as he became the leader of the Bloody 100th, but Buck Cleven sees it in him without question.

Here's Harry Crosby, packing fresh oranges into parachute bags. Sick on every mission he ever flew as a navigator, but for this humanitarian mission, his stomach is steady. He has no problems.

Here's James Douglass, bombardier who has been fucking through it. He finally gets to use that top-secret scope to drop help, not harm.

Here's Ken Lemmons, the brightest and best of the ground crew, who has never been on a plane, but he's kept them in the air all this time. His first flight is one of hope and love and beauty.

And here's Bucky Egan, who made it back to base after barely making it through his time as a POW, who got his first taste of being back in the air by getting that fucking Nazi flag off the pole and running up that small and tattered but intact American flag. And he's on the goddamn radio to welcome Buck Cleven back from a raid to help their allies.

#masters of the air #part nine #spoilers #it's so perfectly done #i will never recover from bucky hanging the flag

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swifty-fox · 1 month

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Closeup of Buckys custom helmet featuring WWII Memorial stamp, his jersey number, a B-17, an air force wwii propaganda poster and then bomber shark teeth

#hc in this au Johns grandfather was a MIA pilot in WWII so it’s for him #he was never recovered and declared KIA when Bucky was young #mota hockey au #swiftyart

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sanguineterrain · 1 year

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"love is stored in the kitchen."

for my very dear best friend lavenderbucky. merry late christmas, i love you <3

(p.s: bucky made apple cake for steve)

#bucky barnes #stucky #bucky barnes fanart #bucky art #marvel #marvel fanart #mcu #mcu fanart #stucky art #healing bucky #recovering bucky

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imposterogers · 1 year

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they were ill for putting this song on during this scene. they were ILL. unhinged and UNWELL.

‘there is a tavern in the town, in the town and there my true love sits’

‘and now my love who once was true to me takes this dark damsel on his knee // and now I see him nevermore, nevermore; he never knocks upon my door’

‘oh, dig my grave both wide and deep, wide and deep; put tombstones at my head and feet’

#sorry sorry sorry sorry its a momentary relapse and I WILL recover shortly #stevebucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes

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softevnstan · 1 year

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³.⍭ 𝐈𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

pairing. bucky barnes x gender netural!reader

summary. you couldn't believe the name that graced the file on your desk for your new patient. james 'bucky' barnes. you'd heard of him - even studied some of his history during college for psychology classes. never would you have imagined he'd be sent to your office, looking for help.

a.n. yeahhh i couldn't do this as just a one time thing. this is going to be a multi-part i write to update every now and again. so for today you have crumbs of what your first session is like. as someone who's been diagnosed with c-ptsd and has a butt-load of trauma, i'm writing bucky's experience in therapy based on my own. that being said i do not condone patient/therapist irl or any of that power balance outside of fiction. gross. that's the only disclaimer for this series tho going forward, i'm not gonna tag that everytime.

edit. part two is here yall

“So, Mr. Barnes, from what I’m understanding, you'd like to make me your primary therapist and discontinue working with Doctor Raynor?” Perhaps if you knew you’d be in this situation, you would’ve mentally prepared yourself a little better for the day when you got up out of bed that morning.

Being a therapist certainly wasn’t without its obstacles, no – It’s a lot to listen to someone else’s problems and just how many callus and evil things happen in the world. It also has its moments where it reminds you just how vile people can be, too. From children all the way to elderly, you’ve seen countless patients. They come back because you’re passionate about your job; Not looking at these people as paychecks but as living, breathing people. And sometimes people just need someone to talk to; there’s no shame in that.

You just never anticipated you’d have a war hero on your office couch, though. That was not on the radar when you were working towards your Master’s Degree.

James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes sat across from your beige and brown striped armchair on the couch. He looked lonely in the middle; For a man so broad, it would be impressive how small he could make himself if not for the fact it was simultaneously heart wrenching. Cobalt eyes struggled to meet your gaze from the moment he walked into the office to begin the session. His body looked awfully stiff, and his eyes dark like he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in weeks. Perhaps months.

“Yes.” He answers stiffly, “Please.” At least he’s sure to mind his manners despite the clear discomfort radiating from the soldier across from you. But his quiet and taut demeanor is discouraging: “It’s important that you are comfortable here, Mr. Barnes. Therapy is something that works best when it doesn’t feel forced…” “I am comfortable,” Bucky jumps to correct, earning a slight raise of a brow from you before schooling your expression once more. “Comfortable enough. I’m just new to… this.” The man makes a vague gesture with his hands between the both of you; Aching eyes speaking more than words ever will when Bucky briefly raises them to look at you.

The first step is wanting to heal. Bucky’s already showing initiative by being present - by putting his foot forward to try to find a therapist better suited to him rather than just throwing his hands up after the first dead end. That’s good. You can work with that.

Your lips curl into a soft, welcoming smile. “Change can be scary, especially when we don’t understand what all is changing or what could come from it. With us working together, though, I can only do as much as you let me. It’s going to be intimidating, and you may not like it, but I want to help you feel better, Mr. Barnes. You deserve to feel better.” Positive reinforcements are always a good thing so long as they’re not condescending or passive aggressive. It’s all in the delivery, you’ve learned. It’s important patients feel comfortable when they’re with you – how else are they expected to be honest, then?

Bucky looks quizzically for a few moments before once more averting his anxious gaze. It made your heart hurt to see a man so beaten down and on edge; it felt so obvious to you, but then again, you were educated on how to find the tells. You could read him like a book right then. Feel everything radiating off of him, almost.

“What kind of things will you do..?” Bucky inquires after a beat.

“Well, I’d like you to start keeping a journal that we could use for our sessions. It’ll help you keep a record of what you’re feeling and we could use it like a workbook – there’d be homework involved, but there’d be nothing I know you can’t handle.”

“Homework?”

You smile, a nod of your head: “Work sheets, sometimes I’ll ask you to read something for me or answer a few questions, sometimes I’ll give you a worksheet you can use when necessary – then the next time I see you, we’ll go over what you’ve brought back and assess together so I can help you understand.”

He’s tentative to the idea, you can see it. It’s clear Bucky is very selective and reserved. You can only imagine how much strife this poor man has been through. But you see the light in him. You do. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to get better.

“...I don’t want to be unhappy anymore,” Bucky says, almost not catching the words if not for the fact the room is silent except for the two of you. “I can help you, Bucky,” you assure him, voice sincere. “We just need to work together and let me give you the tools to be happy. Do you think you can do that for me, Mr. Barnes?”

It’s clear your words seem to rock Bucky in some way, because he looks at you with something that almost resembles shock. As if he’s never heard anyone say something like that to him, has never wanted to help him become himself again. And if his experiences with Raynor is anything to base off of, Bucky needs a proper support system and someone who’s there with his best interest in mind. You can be that for him - even if it is your job irregardless.

He’s silent, eyes darting away and breaking the brief moment of eye contact between the both of you. Then, a nod.

“I can try.” it might as well be a promise.

“That’s all I’ll ever ask of you.”

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buckys-metal-arm · 4 months

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I've seen a lot of theories about what Bucky did to make money in Romania and I put forth:

Math tutor Bucky.

Like. Think about it. Not only did it mention he excelled in the classroom on his Smithsonian description at the end of TWS, but Bucky was a sniper, meaning he had to know a LOT of math, and I doubt that'd be something HYDRA would want to brainwash out of him seeing as he'd need that during his Winter Soldier years. He speaks Romanian so he can talk to the kids, and even though how math is taught may have changed since the 40s he can still teach them a way that gets them to the correct answer. Maybe some might find his way of doing it easier even idk.

I don't know how it would start or why parents would suddenly start trusting their kids to be around this sad hobo looking man that they're 99% sure is squatting in an apartment (in my headcanon he is), but eventually they end up trusting him and he kinda likes it. He doesn't make much money off it, but the parents pay in cash so it isn't traceable (good for someone on the run), and it pays enough that he's able to buy food, do laundry, and maybe some new clothes if he saves up. Or at least, some things from the local thrift store.

I also like to think at least one parent takes pity on the sad man that tutors their Cristian and helped bring his Calculus grade up to a C+ when he was in danger of failing before and they force ask him to stay for dinner whenever he's over for sessions and make sure to send him home with as many leftovers as he can carry

Edited to add: @stuckyfingers added this to the reblog and I loved it so much I had to mention it to the original post!!

#bucky barnes #mcu #kes rewrites the mcu #i just think it would work at least a little #james bucky barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #i don't remember who's post i saw that put forth the idea of bucky being a squatter but it makes sense and also breaks my heart #he deserved a safe place that was his to recover #and deserved a support system while he was there trying to recover and remember who he is

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underthemexicansun · 1 month

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I just want to take care of Bucky Barnes. Like I want to cook for him and do his laundry and buy him books to read and put all his pieces back together again and show him he’s deserving of love and care. But I also want to have hot, dirty sex with him and I want him to choke me and take his anger out on me. I want him to call me his good girl and ruin me for anyone else.

#bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #recovering! Bucky #Bucky Barnes love #marvel bucky barnes #ya feel me?#bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #I just want to fix him #can you tell I was put #in the role of “fixer #as a kid #I also grew up to become a therapist

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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***

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.

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.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes sub #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes needs a hug #bucky barnes recovering #sub!bucky #bucky barnes fluff #Winter Soldier #bucky smut #bucky needs help #cloudy's writing

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burberrycanary · 3 months

Text

Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions)

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 🥰

#stucky #stucky fic #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stevebucky #stevebucky fic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes recovering #steve roger x bucky barnes fic #stucky fanfiction #river!verse #lost vocabularies that might express #otp: till the end of the line #otp: even when i had nothing i had you #the existential loneliness of steven g. rogers #bucky barnes needs a hug #steve rogers also needs a hug #steve makes better choices #he's trying folks

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gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes · 2 years

Photo

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! ❤️