emmabarnes

[emmabarnes]

I did not expect to be this aroused at 8am 🥴

I can perfectly imagine 40s bucky waking you up in the morning with his head between your legs 🤭

Okay. So this did NOT turn out how I expected, but I hope you like it!

When You Move, I Move

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky gives you a reason to not get out of his bed. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: Oral - f. receiving, flirting, established relationship, touch of fluff, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?) A/N: This was meant to be a fun-sized ficlet, but let's use this for Week 3 of Hot Bucky Summer for @buckybarnesevents, shall we?Theme - Where do you want me? ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The morning hues hadn't quite filled the bedroom as your eyelids flickered. Everything slowly came into focus before you remembered that you hadn't slept in your bed last night. The mattress beneath you wasn't as soft as yours, but you found that you liked the firm feel. Much like the figure beside you.

James Buchanan Barnes.

You took a chance to study the man who had you in his arms. Bucky appeared peaceful, his features relaxed and breathing steady like the beat of his heart as you rested your hand on his chest. Beneath the muscles under your fingertips, you found solace and comfort you hadn't sought out before.

Waking up beside Bucky was like trading one dream for another.

But you were almost angry at yourself for being in bed with him again. Almost. Before you, the man had a reputation for never taking out the same woman twice, which was evident whenever you happened to see him and his friend, Steve, out with different girls. Or when you caught a glimpse of a happy woman one day uttering his name, only to look downcast the next. You swore to yourself you'd never become one of them, which was why you turned the charmer down the first time he asked you out.

"You're breaking my heart, doll."

"No, Bucky. I'm stopping you from breaking my heart."

Hurt flickered in his gorgeous blue eyes before he flashed his winning smile and ran a hair through his light brown hair. "Give me a chance and you won't regret it."

You almost caved when he put his hand over yours. It wasn't fair that he was so handsome. And, to be fair, you only heard kind things about him from the girls he took out. That he was a gentleman who paid for everything and treated them well.

He just didn't take them out again.

"Ask me again tomorrow," you said, pulling your hand out from under his and not giving it another thought.

Until he showed up the next day with a flower in hand.

"Go out with me? Please?" he asked, his brows furrowing when you didn't answer. "It'll be a double date, if that makes a difference."

"One date," you replied, disappointed in yourself for how quickly you gave in. It wasn't your intention to accept, but it was just one night and you found yourself smiling when his eyes lit up. "And it better be a good date."

"Only the best for my best girl."

Your heart skipped a beat despite the logical protest in your mind. "I'm not your best girl."

"You will be," he promised with a smile.

Bucky had a penchant for looking good no matter what the occasion called for, but seeing him in his blue suit and slicked back hair when he picked you up made your heart stop. You seemed to have the same effect on him, his eyes slightly wider as he took the sight of you in your dress. You took special care in choosing the right one and it paid off.

"You look beautiful, doll," he breathed, taking your arm once you were at his side. "Making me feel like the luckiest guy in Brooklyn."

And, for once, the rumors were true. Bucky was a complete gentleman throughout the date, holding open the door and pulling out your chair for you. Instead of focusing on himself as one would expect, he hyped his friend, Steve, since it was a double date. The man was much smaller than Bucky, but just as kind. It pained you that his date didn't give him a second glance.

You could tell by the look in Bucky's eyes as the night went on that it hurt him, too.

"Just once, I wish one of them would see how great that punk is," he told you during your first dance together.

The many double dates suddenly made sense.

Though Bucky felt bad for his friend, it didn't stop him from treating you well or showing you a good time. You found you hadn't wanted the night to end, wishing the two of you could share just one more dance. He was wonderful on his feet and you felt as if you were the center of his world as he gazed at you.

"I'm even better off my feet," he winked when you complimented you.

"You're trouble, Bucky Barnes," you giggled.

"Go out with me again and I'll prove the trouble's worth it."

You didn't believe him until he properly asked a day later. You barely managed to say "yes". How were you the first girl he took out again? What made you special in his eyes that he wanted to be around you?

"He really likes you," Steve told you one day, an affectionate smile on his face. "Jerk doesn't stop talking about you."

While your heart fell for him fast, your mind fell in slow motion. Thankfully, the two were in sync now. You were Bucky's girl just as much as he was your guy.

"Mmm. Morning," Bucky greeted as he began to wake, the gravel in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Morning," you whispered, snuggling closer for warmth. You weren't ready to face the day, but you had to eventually. "How did you sleep?"

"Almost perfect," he yawned a little. You never would've imagined such a normal reflex would be so adorable. "Would've slept better if you were in the right spot."

"Right spot?" you repeated, glancing around the bed in confusion. Were you supposed to sleep somewhere else? "Where do you want me?"

"Under me where you belong," he answered, rolling over so he was on top of you. He didn't open his eyes yet, but he had a smile on his face. "Much better."

"I like this spot, but I should go," you said, though you made no move to push him away.

"No," he mumbled, settling his weight over you more to keep you in place. How did he still look and smell so good in the morning? "Not leaving."

He sounded almost grumpy that you suggested it, which was endearing. "I shouldn't be here. It's not proper," you reminded him, but your protest was weak to your own ears.

He finally cracked an eye open with a smirk. "Neither is what we did last night. Or the night before."

You inhaled as the tingling between your thighs reminded you that while Bucky was a gentleman to you around town, he was anything but behind closed doors. He proved that was just as good off his feet as he claimed to be. You hadn't known anyone could properly ruin you, but he continued to surprise you in the best ways.

"No, it wasn't," you whispered when he opened his other eye. Heat pooled in your abdomen and you already sensed where this was going. "Bucky, don't give me that look."

Desire came to the surface more as he gazed at you. "But I'm hungry. I need to eat," he whispered, his lips tickling yours before they moved south in a searing trail along your skin. "You wouldn't let me starve, would you?" he asked, the sheet leaving your body before you could stop him.

"You'll never starve with me around," you smiled, your fingers threading through his hair as his mouth drifted to your breasts. You peeked at him through your lashes when he latched onto one of your nipples, your thighs trembling with anticipation as you gasped, and you forgot why you were trying to be rational. One look at him with his bed hair and half lidded eyes and you were gone.

Bucky released the hardened bud and blew on it, sending another shiver down your spine. "I also have something for your mouth if you're hungry."

"Bucky!" you giggled, his chuckle vibrating against your skin as he kissed further down your body. You'd never forget the first time his lips touched yours. You teased that you didn't want to inflate his ego, but that no one ever kissed you the way he had. It left you breathless, dizzy, and you knew you'd be forever addicted to his wonderful mouth.

The same mouth that convinced me to sleep without any clothes on.

You didn't bother to play shy as he ran his hands along your hips. Any innocence you had left before him was long gone. He took it and molded it into something else only shared between the two of you.

"God damn," he whispered under his breath as he spread your legs apart, licking his lips as he stared at your pussy like it was the greatest treasure he laid eyes on. "You're so fucking pretty."

"You're just trying to butter me up," you said, gripping his hair a little tighter as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Prettiest girl I've ever seen. I'd never lie to you," he promised, digging his fingers into your hip to keep you still when you began to squirm. How could you not under his heated gaze and touch? "And you picked me."

You swallowed hard, your folds wet before his tongue darted out to get a taste. "You chose me, too."

Something changed in his expression as he looked up at you, a softer look in his eyes as the morning rays formed a halo around him. He was both your angel and your demon, someone to tempt and care for you. Sitting up a bit more, you slid your hand to his cheek. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air between you and it was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

I love you, Bucky.

"You better hold on," he warned, his voice thick as he dipped his head back down. "I'm starving."

Your breathing grew heavier as he went to work, his tongue tracing every crevice of what belonged to him. He made you feel alive and beautiful with each touch. Watching his hips dip slightly against the mattress told you he was turned on almost as much as you were. It was still tough to wrap your mind around that some days that the mere taste of you aroused him.

"You're so wet," he murmured against your clit, briefly sucking on it as you moaned. Your nipples hardened almost painfully as one of his thick fingers traced your slit. Your body reacted strongly to him and he never once made you feel embarrassed by that. "This all for me, doll?"

A whimper left your mouth as you nodded. "All for you."

"I can taste that you're mine," he said, stabbing his tongue deep in your twitching hole. Your body shuddered, aching to feel him deeper as you tugged on his hair. You never realized you felt empty until him. Not just your body.

He filled your heart, too.

"Bucky," you moaned, trembling when he groaned deeply into your pussy.

"That's it. Keep saying my name," he ordered, the possessiveness in his tone making you moan louder as his finger breached you. "You're so soft. Never felt anything like you. Never will again."

You wiggled against the sheets as he flicked your bundle of nerves again with the tip of his tongue. You never understood how some viewed sex as something vulgar or unspeakable when Bucky made you feel cherished every single time. He seduced and moved you, like it was as natural as breathing. Maybe you were one of the lucky ones. You wouldn't take it, or him, for granted.

Although that mouth may kill me one day.

"Feels so good. Please," you whined, exquisite pleasure building up when he added another digit, a smug smile on his face when he lifted his head.

"One more taste and I'll make you come for me," he assured you.

"Bucky!" you cried, trying to keep quiet when his tongue slid back in beside his fingers. Each drag along your walls made your body twitch and you were sure you'd go up in flames if he delayed your ecstasy any longer.

"Come, doll. Get my face nice and wet the way I like it," he urged, repeatedly brushing that spot inside you with his fingertip that you were never able to find yourself.

Like the orgasms you experience with him before, it cascaded over you before it exploded. Every nerve ending came to life as you screamed his name and you had to cover your mouth to muffle the sound. All the while, he licked up every sweet drop of your release as it leaked around his fingers and tongue. He didn't let up until he got it all.

"Beautiful," he exhaled as he let you recover, your body shivering as he licked some of the shine from his mouth. He stretched over you after a moment and you caught a glimpse of his smug smile again before his lips brushed against yours. They were soft as you tasted yourself, showing you with his tongue exactly what he did to you.

"Mmm. Yes, you are," you mused, still a bit in your euphoric state.

He chuckled as he gave you another kiss, his cock hard against you. "Stay a little longer?" he asked in a soft voice.

Your heart thudded when he moved his lips to your forehead. Him wanting you to stay had nothing to do with needing his own pleasure. You wouldn't make him resort to begging because you didn't want to go either.

Proper or not, it doesn't matter when I'm in his arms.

"I'll stay," you whispered.

Bucky was right about one thing. Sprawled out beneath him was exactly where you belonged, just like the spot carved out for you in his heart. And you would try to remember that when the Army drafted him because he promised to never let you regret giving him a chance.

All he had to do was come home to you.

First sexy time with 40's Bucky and I hope I did it justice. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[emmabarnes]

I did not expect to be this aroused at 8am 🥴

I can perfectly imagine 40s bucky waking you up in the morning with his head between your legs 🤭

Okay. So this did NOT turn out how I expected, but I hope you like it!

When You Move, I Move

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky gives you a reason to not get out of his bed. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: Oral - f. receiving, flirting, established relationship, touch of fluff, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?) A/N: This was meant to be a fun-sized ficlet, but let's use this for Week 3 of Hot Bucky Summer for @buckybarnesevents, shall we?Theme - Where do you want me? ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The morning hues hadn't quite filled the bedroom as your eyelids flickered. Everything slowly came into focus before you remembered that you hadn't slept in your bed last night. The mattress beneath you wasn't as soft as yours, but you found that you liked the firm feel. Much like the figure beside you.

James Buchanan Barnes.

You took a chance to study the man who had you in his arms. Bucky appeared peaceful, his features relaxed and breathing steady like the beat of his heart as you rested your hand on his chest. Beneath the muscles under your fingertips, you found solace and comfort you hadn't sought out before.

Waking up beside Bucky was like trading one dream for another.

But you were almost angry at yourself for being in bed with him again. Almost. Before you, the man had a reputation for never taking out the same woman twice, which was evident whenever you happened to see him and his friend, Steve, out with different girls. Or when you caught a glimpse of a happy woman one day uttering his name, only to look downcast the next. You swore to yourself you'd never become one of them, which was why you turned the charmer down the first time he asked you out.

"You're breaking my heart, doll."

"No, Bucky. I'm stopping you from breaking my heart."

Hurt flickered in his gorgeous blue eyes before he flashed his winning smile and ran a hair through his light brown hair. "Give me a chance and you won't regret it."

You almost caved when he put his hand over yours. It wasn't fair that he was so handsome. And, to be fair, you only heard kind things about him from the girls he took out. That he was a gentleman who paid for everything and treated them well.

He just didn't take them out again.

"Ask me again tomorrow," you said, pulling your hand out from under his and not giving it another thought.

Until he showed up the next day with a flower in hand.

"Go out with me? Please?" he asked, his brows furrowing when you didn't answer. "It'll be a double date, if that makes a difference."

"One date," you replied, disappointed in yourself for how quickly you gave in. It wasn't your intention to accept, but it was just one night and you found yourself smiling when his eyes lit up. "And it better be a good date."

"Only the best for my best girl."

Your heart skipped a beat despite the logical protest in your mind. "I'm not your best girl."

"You will be," he promised with a smile.

Bucky had a penchant for looking good no matter what the occasion called for, but seeing him in his blue suit and slicked back hair when he picked you up made your heart stop. You seemed to have the same effect on him, his eyes slightly wider as he took the sight of you in your dress. You took special care in choosing the right one and it paid off.

"You look beautiful, doll," he breathed, taking your arm once you were at his side. "Making me feel like the luckiest guy in Brooklyn."

And, for once, the rumors were true. Bucky was a complete gentleman throughout the date, holding open the door and pulling out your chair for you. Instead of focusing on himself as one would expect, he hyped his friend, Steve, since it was a double date. The man was much smaller than Bucky, but just as kind. It pained you that his date didn't give him a second glance.

You could tell by the look in Bucky's eyes as the night went on that it hurt him, too.

"Just once, I wish one of them would see how great that punk is," he told you during your first dance together.

The many double dates suddenly made sense.

Though Bucky felt bad for his friend, it didn't stop him from treating you well or showing you a good time. You found you hadn't wanted the night to end, wishing the two of you could share just one more dance. He was wonderful on his feet and you felt as if you were the center of his world as he gazed at you.

"I'm even better off my feet," he winked when you complimented you.

"You're trouble, Bucky Barnes," you giggled.

"Go out with me again and I'll prove the trouble's worth it."

You didn't believe him until he properly asked a day later. You barely managed to say "yes". How were you the first girl he took out again? What made you special in his eyes that he wanted to be around you?

"He really likes you," Steve told you one day, an affectionate smile on his face. "Jerk doesn't stop talking about you."

While your heart fell for him fast, your mind fell in slow motion. Thankfully, the two were in sync now. You were Bucky's girl just as much as he was your guy.

"Mmm. Morning," Bucky greeted as he began to wake, the gravel in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Morning," you whispered, snuggling closer for warmth. You weren't ready to face the day, but you had to eventually. "How did you sleep?"

"Almost perfect," he yawned a little. You never would've imagined such a normal reflex would be so adorable. "Would've slept better if you were in the right spot."

"Right spot?" you repeated, glancing around the bed in confusion. Were you supposed to sleep somewhere else? "Where do you want me?"

"Under me where you belong," he answered, rolling over so he was on top of you. He didn't open his eyes yet, but he had a smile on his face. "Much better."

"I like this spot, but I should go," you said, though you made no move to push him away.

"No," he mumbled, settling his weight over you more to keep you in place. How did he still look and smell so good in the morning? "Not leaving."

He sounded almost grumpy that you suggested it, which was endearing. "I shouldn't be here. It's not proper," you reminded him, but your protest was weak to your own ears.

He finally cracked an eye open with a smirk. "Neither is what we did last night. Or the night before."

You inhaled as the tingling between your thighs reminded you that while Bucky was a gentleman to you around town, he was anything but behind closed doors. He proved that was just as good off his feet as he claimed to be. You hadn't known anyone could properly ruin you, but he continued to surprise you in the best ways.

"No, it wasn't," you whispered when he opened his other eye. Heat pooled in your abdomen and you already sensed where this was going. "Bucky, don't give me that look."

Desire came to the surface more as he gazed at you. "But I'm hungry. I need to eat," he whispered, his lips tickling yours before they moved south in a searing trail along your skin. "You wouldn't let me starve, would you?" he asked, the sheet leaving your body before you could stop him.

"You'll never starve with me around," you smiled, your fingers threading through his hair as his mouth drifted to your breasts. You peeked at him through your lashes when he latched onto one of your nipples, your thighs trembling with anticipation as you gasped, and you forgot why you were trying to be rational. One look at him with his bed hair and half lidded eyes and you were gone.

Bucky released the hardened bud and blew on it, sending another shiver down your spine. "I also have something for your mouth if you're hungry."

"Bucky!" you giggled, his chuckle vibrating against your skin as he kissed further down your body. You'd never forget the first time his lips touched yours. You teased that you didn't want to inflate his ego, but that no one ever kissed you the way he had. It left you breathless, dizzy, and you knew you'd be forever addicted to his wonderful mouth.

The same mouth that convinced me to sleep without any clothes on.

You didn't bother to play shy as he ran his hands along your hips. Any innocence you had left before him was long gone. He took it and molded it into something else only shared between the two of you.

"God damn," he whispered under his breath as he spread your legs apart, licking his lips as he stared at your pussy like it was the greatest treasure he laid eyes on. "You're so fucking pretty."

"You're just trying to butter me up," you said, gripping his hair a little tighter as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Prettiest girl I've ever seen. I'd never lie to you," he promised, digging his fingers into your hip to keep you still when you began to squirm. How could you not under his heated gaze and touch? "And you picked me."

You swallowed hard, your folds wet before his tongue darted out to get a taste. "You chose me, too."

Something changed in his expression as he looked up at you, a softer look in his eyes as the morning rays formed a halo around him. He was both your angel and your demon, someone to tempt and care for you. Sitting up a bit more, you slid your hand to his cheek. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air between you and it was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

I love you, Bucky.

"You better hold on," he warned, his voice thick as he dipped his head back down. "I'm starving."

Your breathing grew heavier as he went to work, his tongue tracing every crevice of what belonged to him. He made you feel alive and beautiful with each touch. Watching his hips dip slightly against the mattress told you he was turned on almost as much as you were. It was still tough to wrap your mind around that some days that the mere taste of you aroused him.

"You're so wet," he murmured against your clit, briefly sucking on it as you moaned. Your nipples hardened almost painfully as one of his thick fingers traced your slit. Your body reacted strongly to him and he never once made you feel embarrassed by that. "This all for me, doll?"

A whimper left your mouth as you nodded. "All for you."

"I can taste that you're mine," he said, stabbing his tongue deep in your twitching hole. Your body shuddered, aching to feel him deeper as you tugged on his hair. You never realized you felt empty until him. Not just your body.

He filled your heart, too.

"Bucky," you moaned, trembling when he groaned deeply into your pussy.

"That's it. Keep saying my name," he ordered, the possessiveness in his tone making you moan louder as his finger breached you. "You're so soft. Never felt anything like you. Never will again."

You wiggled against the sheets as he flicked your bundle of nerves again with the tip of his tongue. You never understood how some viewed sex as something vulgar or unspeakable when Bucky made you feel cherished every single time. He seduced and moved you, like it was as natural as breathing. Maybe you were one of the lucky ones. You wouldn't take it, or him, for granted.

Although that mouth may kill me one day.

"Feels so good. Please," you whined, exquisite pleasure building up when he added another digit, a smug smile on his face when he lifted his head.

"One more taste and I'll make you come for me," he assured you.

"Bucky!" you cried, trying to keep quiet when his tongue slid back in beside his fingers. Each drag along your walls made your body twitch and you were sure you'd go up in flames if he delayed your ecstasy any longer.

"Come, doll. Get my face nice and wet the way I like it," he urged, repeatedly brushing that spot inside you with his fingertip that you were never able to find yourself.

Like the orgasms you experience with him before, it cascaded over you before it exploded. Every nerve ending came to life as you screamed his name and you had to cover your mouth to muffle the sound. All the while, he licked up every sweet drop of your release as it leaked around his fingers and tongue. He didn't let up until he got it all.

"Beautiful," he exhaled as he let you recover, your body shivering as he licked some of the shine from his mouth. He stretched over you after a moment and you caught a glimpse of his smug smile again before his lips brushed against yours. They were soft as you tasted yourself, showing you with his tongue exactly what he did to you.

"Mmm. Yes, you are," you mused, still a bit in your euphoric state.

He chuckled as he gave you another kiss, his cock hard against you. "Stay a little longer?" he asked in a soft voice.

Your heart thudded when he moved his lips to your forehead. Him wanting you to stay had nothing to do with needing his own pleasure. You wouldn't make him resort to begging because you didn't want to go either.

Proper or not, it doesn't matter when I'm in his arms.

"I'll stay," you whispered.

Bucky was right about one thing. Sprawled out beneath him was exactly where you belonged, just like the spot carved out for you in his heart. And you would try to remember that when the Army drafted him because he promised to never let you regret giving him a chance.

All he had to do was come home to you.

First sexy time with 40's Bucky and I hope I did it justice. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[emmabarnes]

Summary: It was amazing, really, how quickly one person managed to turn your dream job into a living nightmare.

Pairing: ParkRanger!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: I wrote this whole story before realising that it was some twisted RonSwanson!Bucky fantasy I’d cooked up, so if anyone can recommend a good therapist hmu

Keep reading

[emmabarnes]

𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 : 𝙅𝙪𝙣𝙚

masterlist | monthly fic rec masterlist

FLUFF

Exhausted by @moonvis

Uncle Bucky by @/moonvis

Trying To Study by @pitubea1910

Secure Your Back by @writingcroissant

poppies and babies’ breath by @lizzie-is-here

More than friends by @theeleggymeggy

Lovesick by @/theeleggymeggy

Protecting What’s His by @jobean12-blog (bodyguard!bucky)

Pieces of Us by @majestyeverlasting

As Many As You Want by @/majestyeverlasting

How I Met Your Father by @pomelo-villano

Nerd by @imgoingtofreakoutnow

Trouble Doubled by @certifiedskywalker

magnetic mishaps by @aneluvs

Angel Eyes by @killatravtramp

hint dropped by @rocketrhap3000

pre-mission blues by @buckysblanket (husband!bucky)

Nightmares by @waiting4inspiration

Safe and Sound by @talesofesther

voicemails by @lovelybarnes

Chicken Soup for the Soul by @sebbytrash

Baking (fails) with bucky by @winter-soldier-vibes

booked on a feeling by @intrepidacious (librarian!bucky)

Theater by @loving-barnes

Sleepyhead by @tom-holland-parker

A Good Man by @/tom-holland-parker

A New Uniform by @hopelessromantic423

Manicure by @itsapeterthing

Speechless by @/itsapeterthing

I’ll Stop The World And Melt With You by @shamevillain

Flustered 2 by @lovelybarnes

Aroma by @navybrat817

The Animal Within by @/navybrat817

ANGST

Tip of the Tongue by @bucky-fricking-barnes

Who Did This To You? by @espinosaurusrexex

“Accidentally” by @/pomelo-villano

Just Tell Her by @girl-next-door-writes

New Love by @ro-is-struggling

jealousy, jealousy by @malum-forev

Jealous by @sweetbbarnes

A New Life? by @/waiting4inspiration (phoenix!reader)

We mend each other by @/talesofesther

Green by @/itsapeterthing

Smoke by @shurisneakers

The Ultimatum by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

feel me by @flordeamatista (siren!reader)

SMUT

Be it revenge or moving on by @writingsoftheloser

Cherry by @sweetdreamsbuck (camboy!bucky)

Your Daddy Did It Better by @princessbellecerise (billionaire!bucky)

Wrapped In Red by @/flordeamatista

[emmabarnes]

Therapy

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky Barnes is your newest patient at your clinic. As a therapist, you know all about having to maintain decency and professional respect with your patients, even when they seem unruly. But Bucky isn't just any ordinary man– he's the top earner of the Russian mafia down in Brighton Beach, and he's temperamental and not really down with therapy. He's only seeing you out of necessity, and the last thing you're expecting is other strange developments in your relationship.

Genre: Deeply inspired by Tony Soprano and Melfi's relationship on the Sopranos, Mafia!Bucky Barnes, not really pro mafia, doctor-patient to friends to lovers, lots of psychology and therapy talk throughout, fluff

Word Count: 8.5k

Bucky waits as the secretary informs him that his therapist will be ready for him soon, and he’s sweating bullets, feeling like a child who’s been told to wait for a punishment from the school principal.

He has absolutely no idea what you’ll be like– he was just recommended a therapist by his physician, because apparently his blood pressure is unfortunately incredibly high for someone his age, and it’s going to become an issue later on if he doesn’t fix it now.

Of course, Bucky knows that stress comes with the job, so no wonder his blood pressure is so high. He can’t exactly be his gang’s boss if he’s having heart palpitations and needing to sit down every few moments when he should be intimidating his enemies and rivals. The Russian mafia requires him to be almost perfect at every instance, so they can keep their riches and luxuries growing. He’s one of their top earners, but this goddamn stress is starting to ruin things for him.

He’s come here under the guise that he’s out repairing his car, even telling his mother and his sister that, and his underlings aren’t going to argue with him regardless of what he says. It’s a good thing this office is in New York, so he didn’t have to travel to anywhere particularly suspicious.

 But Bucky still feels so strange, so unlike himself, feeling both wary and somewhat angry by this situation that he’s in, where the grey carpet and the equally dull pink-grey of the walls makes him feel like he’s trapped. Trapped in this skyscraper, when really he should be down at Sam’s bar, clinking his drink next to Steve’s and watching the sun set on Brighton Beach. 

And he would be, if it wasn’t for the constant, clenched fear in his heart, the pit in his stomach that never seems to go away despite his attempts to fill it with drinks and the women and other vices, and he feels a chill– he wonders if he will ever successfully remove himself from this lifestyle, or if he even wants to. Bucky sometimes believes that it’s more likely he’ll die here.

Bucky thinks for a moment that he should leave. Now, while he still can, because he thinks this appointment is probably pointless.

“Mr. Barnes?” You open your office door, and Bucky sighs and stands up. “Right this way.”

He notices you don’t exactly look how he envisioned. You have a no-nonsense appearance– none of that frilly new age bullshit he was expecting, no crystal bracelets or spiritual tattoos or extra piercings– you have a khaki blazer on and tidy slacks. Your hair is coiffed in a way that says respectable, but you also don’t have the time to try too hard with your looks. Your glasses make you look intelligent, but also scary in how you peer at him.

He follows you into your office– everything is in a cushy shade of brown, from the carpets to the sofa chairs, way up to the wood paneling and shelves surrounding your desk, and the framed certificates displaying your knowledge, and it's immediately more comforting than the outside room. Bucky wonders if that's by design.

He sits down on an armchair, and his fingers, out of their own accord, grip the armrests as if he’s dying. Hell, maybe he is. 

"I've done a little bit of reading on why you're here." You start murmuring over your patient files on your desk as you look for his particular one. "Matt Murdock, Jessica Jones… ah, there it is. James Buchanan Barnes." 

"...Bucky is fine." He clenches his jaw– no one has called him James in literal decades, and he's not going to let some fancy doctor like you start. Bucky barely wants to be here as it is.

"In this office, we have a level of professional respect that needs to be maintained." You correct him gently, not because he did anything wrong, but just as a careful reminder. "I will address you as Mr. Barnes. Is that okay?"

"Sure." Bucky feels tense, waiting for the hour to go by any faster than it currently is. You look at him– not in a way that makes him feel as if he's being sized up, because he'd definitely make a backhanded comment about that– but in a way that articulates some form of curiosity.

It's to Bucky's displeasure that he can't tell whether or not it's just simply the look of a therapist, or if you’re really, truly interested in him. He nods at you– you understand he wants you to get on with it.

“Okay. So you’re here because you’ve been having high blood pressure, and heart palpitations.” You scan over the note written by his physician– scrawled in a hasty cursive– and look back up at him. “You’re in good shape, and you’re a bit too young to be having age-related heart problems.”

“Nice observation, doc.” Bucky retorts, and you half-smile at that– your best patients have always been the snarky ones, and you figure it’s because they have that sense of humour that is sometimes needed for therapy. “Obviously I’m stressed the fuck out.”

“Stressed, Mr. Barnes?” You cross your arms, and sit down in front of him in your own armchair, starting the session legitimately. “And why do you think that it is?”

“I said it was obvious. Aren’t you a doctor? Shouldn’t you be smarter than this?” Bucky shakes his head, wondering why he has to delve into something so clear. “My jobs, doc. They take too much out of me these days– it’s a wonder I don’t just end it.”

You ignore the perceived slight against your intelligence. “Why can’t you end it, Mr. Barnes?”

“...There’s too many people counting on me.” Bucky sighs in exasperation. “My mother, she’s not gonna be able to fend for herself if I’m not bringing in the income– I’ve considered putting her in a home, but she thinks I’m trying to get rid of her– and my baby sister, Rebecca, she’s used to a certain, uh, lifestyle now. It’s not very fair of me to take that away from her.”

Bucky closes his eyes. “That’s not even counting the rest of my family.”

“Your family, or your ‘family?’” You mimic quotation marks, meaning his crime family, and Bucky swallows. “Mr. Barnes, I’d like to remind you. Don’t say anything that would require me to break the patient-doctor confidentiality agreement.”

Bucky takes this to mean that you know what he does for a living, and he’s not stupid– he was never going to get really into that, say anything that would really, truly implicate him, he knows all about the laws around snitching– he just thought to the rest of the world, his reputation wouldn't precede him quite as much.

“Okay. Should I start with where it all began, or just what’s on my mind?” Bucky wrinkles his forehead as he thinks, and you leave the floor open for him to begin wherever he likes.

/

Bucky starts with how his latest “room cleaning” (you assume he’s putting up a front as a janitor) went south, because there are certain stains that you can never get rid of.

“Usually, I’m quick on my feet– I know the rules and laws around disposing of “stains,” and I only have a limited amount of time before the smell starts getting worse and neighbours start asking questions.” Bucky illuminates for you, and you get the feeling stains don’t exactly just mean blood, maybe body disposal or something like that. 

“This time, though?” Bucky continues, and his voice gets raspy, as patients’ often do, when they start elaborating and getting to the difficult parts of their experiences. “Steve asked me what was wrong, why was I frozen in place, and I leaned against the wall, couldn’t say anything.”

“I was feeling that… y’know, that loud sort of thumping–” Bucky suddenly motions to his head, unable to look quite at you, instead feeling the sensation he was describing. “Like a heartbeat, but in my head?”

“Yes. I know what you mean.” You write this down as well. “Those are signs of your heart palpitations– most likely the pressure in your head was induced from a panic attack.”

“Right.” Bucky swallows the lump in his throat. “It was too loud to even keep my eyes open, Jesus– it was scary, I started yelling at Steve and then I… I turned over to the side, and puked.”

“So you’re struggling with maintaining your composure. Letting loose with anger, panic, other aggressive emotions.” You note, and Bucky raises his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, but it’s worse than that. That stuff can be… useful, in my line of work.” Bucky cracks a few of his knuckles. “I can’t exactly do my fucking work if I’m puking up shit, right?”

“Sure. But we’re here to focus on why. On what’s going on with your mental health.” You gently prod him to keep going. 

“My sister, Rebecca, she’s saying she’s gonna go audition for movies.” Bucky explains, with a sideways, sarcastic smirk that has you thinking this guy doesn’t look half bad. “Not adult movies, mind you, doc– I immediately thought that and tried to talk her out of– but real Hollywood productions, something that a New Money socialite like her could potentially get into, for real.”

“Tell me what the conversation was like.”

“Well, Rebecca’s been going to acting classes, and she told me that it was just a hobby. Just something all the other girls in Brighton were doing.” Bucky nonchalantly scratches his cheek, but his jaw clenches as he continues. “But she sat me down, and said ‘Buck, my teacher says I have a real good shot at making it. I know how you feel about this, but I can’t just sit and spend the rest of my life doing nothing.’ Listen, doc, she has a point– I’ve always felt a little bad that Rebecca just sits there, looking pretty. But I didn’t want her to go and do this, and–”

Bucky inhales. “I couldn’t speak to her. I felt dizzy, and I sat down, and I felt like I had to… I had to either run or fight this thing before it got too far.”

“Fight-or-flight.” You affirm, and you point at him with a well-groomed fingernail. “Hm. That sounds like the real issue.” 

Bucky frowns at that.

“Huh?”

“You’re not just afraid of losing your sister– you clearly have a fear of what the future entails. You’re exhibiting symptoms of PTSD.” You clarify, and Bucky shifts around in his seat, wanting more of an explanation. “You’re in a constant state of panic because you don’t know what life will bring you.”

That explanation rings through him, and he’s drawn to a silence. 

“But why now?” Bucky eventually mutters, staring down at the carpet again, this time focusing on a piece of lint that hadn’t been vacuumed. “Isn’t life always uncertain?”

“Well, PTSD is built up because of past trauma. Anything can really induce it again– something that’s triggered you appropriately, whether it be through similar emotions or similar events.” You think that over, and then nod. “It sounds as if you are experiencing a relapse in trauma… perhaps due to the nature of your work, or because the lack of control with Rebecca– possibly leading to a blown cover or her newfound independence– and most likely of all, it could be because you have not let go of those feelings and use them in response to many different situations. It’s not uncommon, Mr. Barnes, to become used to traumatic responses as ‘how it’s supposed to be.’ If it’s all you know, you won’t expect any different until it’s too late.”

Bucky realizes that that’s exactly how he felt when he was sitting in the waiting room. Like all of this was useless, an attempt to fix something that he felt was totally ordinary. If it wasn’t for the extremity of his recent reactions, he would’ve just kept going on like this. 

Something about this revelation pisses him off. 

“I believe we should try to focus on this and work through it.” You check the clock, and then smile professionally at him. “That’s all the time we have for today. Any parting questions, thoughts, ideas?”

Bucky is still silent. He is mulling over the fact that you’ve already seemed to figure him out, at least partially– he wanted more of a challenge, more of something to use against you so he could successfully call therapy a bunch of bullshit. He feels a sense of relief that the hour is over, but also annoyance over the fact that he wants to keep going.

“...Thanks, doc.” Bucky bids you goodbye, and you nod and walk him to the door. 

You feel the animosity in the air, but you know that’s not rare, especially considering who your patient is.

/

Mr. Barnes is terrifying when he glares at you.

His third session had started off with a story about a “coworker” he had to have a talking to, and when you pried just a bit deeper, wanting to know what exactly the coworker had done, he inhaled sharply, and stared you down with those blue-grey eyes. 

You don’t know how to respond to his silence, to his mob boss intimidation tactics. Bucky might be the most difficult patient you’ve had so far, and you do not want to push too far and hurt yourself in the process.

You maintain your poker face, needing to do so to maintain the safe space you have made not just for Bucky, but for yourself. If he ever came forward too quickly, attacked you– it would be the end of your relationship with him.

“Why did you stop speaking, Mr. Barnes?” You break the silence, and Bucky continues to stare you down. “I thought we were getting towards a–”

"You think I'm stupid, huh?" Bucky scoffs at you. "You want me to reveal everything about myself, right? This isn't enough to make me make a fool of myself. Doesn't matter if you keep offering me little platitudes, or if your office is nice and warm, or if you happen to be a very pretty, smart doctor lady. It's not gonna fucking work on me."

You look taken aback for just a moment, and then smile neatly at him. "Wonderful, Mr. Barnes. I think you're making significant progress."

"Really?" Bucky furrows his brows. "You're not gonna tell me I'm rejecting change, or some shit like that?"

"Funny you should mention one of the main pillars of therapy." You bite your lip as you think. “No, this is actually a part of it, is it not? You are formulating a response to the change, which means you are getting results, somewhere inside you. You don’t have to tell me what exactly it is, Mr. Barnes, it’s evident in the way you reject it.”

“God, how do I get you off my back then?”  Bucky sighs and then laughs a little. “Okay, fine, doc. I’m only trying this shit so I can do my work, get it? Don’t try to rehabilitate me.”

“Noted.” You pretend to write that down, but actually write three times three equals nine. Just a random sentence that looks like something important.

You won’t be upfront about this, because you don’t want to scare him away– but therapy is not some sort of quick fix. Rehabilitation will have to be apart of Bucky Barnes’ regime someday, at least as the end result of his therapy, or he’ll never have the mental strength he needs to move on.

Several of your clients have had to build up the right state of mind in order to then remove themselves from the situation. Bucky can’t be any different. 

“Alright. Sorry.” Bucky doesn’t usually apologize, ever, but something about how your eyes– normally so reserved in their emotions– became wide-eyed, slightly fearful of him, made him want to take a step back and stop. “Should I keep going?”

You’re taking a moment, because you want to know why he snapped like that. What exactly did you say? Should you avoid the phrase next time? How do you help Bucky and protect yourself? Is it worth delving deeply into his past, when you risk getting hurt by his tendencies?

Every therapist has this moment, you know that. Some of your colleagues have passed on patients to you when they felt that it was too much for them. And you have an inkling that Bucky is going to be the one to watch for you. 

You think that Bucky doesn’t like when you ask for specifics. Or that he’s getting frustrated that you’re getting to him, so he pushes back– but really, just like you said, if Bucky was truly not being changed by any of this, he wouldn’t be responding at all. You decide to be patient.

“You can keep going if you would like to.” You respond quietly, carefully, and Bucky nods and continues on with his story.

“So the guy– the coworker– he’s been harassing one of my other coworkers, right. And that little guy is pretty wet behind the ears, too young to really stand up for himself.” Bucky is shaking his head in quiet disappointment. “So the second he came too close– did too much that he shouldn’t have done– I ended it.”

“I see.”

“And it’s not that I didn’t want to do it– I did wanna end that particular situation, doc. It was just that the kid wasn’t doing enough to fight back, but after I did it, everything felt…” Bucky trails off, staring at the floor, his eyes beginning to water. “Different. Bad. All this shit I do is for a reason, and I usually… I like it. But the kid started wailing, crying, and for a second, I felt really shit about the whole thing. Like I shouldn’t have gone that far.”

You take a moment to write that down, that Bucky is beginning to feel some semblance of regret.

“But you know what’s crazy, doc? Even though I feel bad about it, I still want to do it. Doesn’t that sound insane?” Bucky swallows, and he looks at you, maybe for comfort, maybe for an explanation. “I can’t stop– I won’t stop. I just need to keep going and stop being such a pussy about it.”

“You’re focusing on the wrong aspect, Mr. Barnes.” You chime in, and he shakes his head, tapping at his arm rest. “Why did you feel bad? What about this younger man had you feeling, well, out of sorts?”

“I told you already, doc, he was screaming and crying and it was just– it was too much.” Bucky repeats, but he feels himself growing smaller, suddenly feeling tiny, just like when he was a young man starting out in this world. “I guess… maybe, just maybe it brought up some bad stuff inside me.”

“Yes, this is the problem. Being in these situations will take a toll on you– even if you still need to do them, Mr. Barnes– and so you’re beginning to feel the memories roll back in. It’s all a part of how you’ve been unintentionally triggering yourself the last few years, I’m guessing, because you can’t simply forget the bad times forever.” You point out to him, and he shuts his eyes.

“Yeah, so I’m a fucking psycho? There’s a whole bunch of things about myself that I don’t even know?” Bucky scoffs at himself, feeling very unmasculine and more like a baby. 

“Don’t tear yourself down that much.” You remark, not unkindly. “I myself have had many bad, sad, unspeakable times– people are more broken than you realize.”

“Yeah, really?” Bucky looks mystified. “What kinda trouble could a lady like you get into? You’re very clever, and you’re probably well-off… I’d figure you’d keep your nose outta bad shit.”

“It’s not that simple, is it?” You lean back in your chair, pick a loose thread off your blazer. “Sometimes bad shit picks you, Mr. Barnes. That’s why we should not blame ourselves for things outside of our control.”

“Hey, don’t leave me hanging.” Bucky shoots back suddenly, sitting more present and aware of you than he had before. “What happened to you, doc?”

“That’s not why we’re here, Mr. Barnes.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Bucky is half smiling, looking more roguish and understandably a little intrigued. “You’ve been hearing all about me, the least I deserve is some reciprocation.”

You blink. “Mr. Barnes, you’re paying me to be here for you. My advice is–”

“Alright, alright. Letting it go now.” Bucky raises his hands in a gesture meant to stop you from continuing. “Keep your secrets, it makes you more mysterious. More hot.”

You raise your eyebrows and then laugh. Just a little snort– and Bucky smiles.

“Okay, Mr. Barnes. We’ve got about seven minutes left, so I’ll tell you a little about myself.” You start, and Bucky raises his eyebrows.

“You’re that desperate to keep me from finding you attractive? What is this, patients and doctors aren’t allowed to–”

“They’re definitely not.” You silence him, but you can tell from his expression he likes the challenge. “Anyways. I’m thirty-three years old, I have two degrees, a PhD in psychology and a bachelor’s in social work– I did both at the same time– I’ve lived in New York my whole life, and my mother still believes that I haven’t done enough. Always going on about how I’m wasting my potential.”

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky pinches his forehead. “It’s always the smart girls like you who get way too much hate thrown at them. Even with two degrees, she’s like that? Want me to talk to her? Have a little one-on-one?”

“No, no.” You start laughing for real and then have to compose yourself, but Bucky has a different expression now, a sort of soft look in his eyes, and you find yourself turning a little warm. “I appreciate that, Mr. Barnes, but there’s no way I could let you do that.”

“Well, at least you considered it.” Bucky smiles and you feel a strange fit of passion inside you, that this guy who hardly knows you is willing to go that far. 

That perhaps, even as a shadowy, veiled observer, meant to impart advice and be relatively untouchable… you could be touched, too. 

You swallow, ignoring the thought that he’s rather handsome.

/

You’re out shopping for a new dress. It’s your sister-in-law’s birthday, and you know she wanted a bit of a fancy dinner for whatever reason. She’s turning 31, so there’s nothing special about it, but your brother, Viz, insisted that you go along with it.

“Wanda, Wanda, Wanda…” You mumble under your breath. She loves red, so you know you have to stay away from that colour. You’re leaning towards a navy-blue, simple dress with no details, just to be hidden in the background with.

“Hey, doc. Didn’t think I’d see you here.” Bucky suddenly ambushes you from the aisle, and you blink before refusing to make eye contact with him.

It’s fine that you’re his therapist, but in public? You worry about the perception on your work. Bucky is kind of infamous– sometimes your secretary will ask for gory details on what he does. You’ve never shared anything, but you also know that Bucky himself is relatively confidential about the whole thing.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes.” You utter quietly, and he tuts and grins at your expression. 

“Why do you look so scared?” He snorts, and with an overly familiar touch, his hand is on your shoulder.

You know you should be pushing him aside, so not to ruin the careful, purposefully respectful relationship between you two, but it’s also in public– Bucky has no reason to follow your rules here– and he’s not one to be trifled with.

“Not scared, just, uh, taken off guard.” You admit, and he laughs a little. “I’m just dress shopping.”

“I can see that.” Bucky gently pulls the dress you’re holding so he can look at it carefully. “That’s not you, I don’t think. The style is too frumpy– you look better in what you wear in the office.”

“Oh, really? So what is ‘me’, Mr. Barnes?” You wonder how long Bucky has been checking you out, supposedly enough that he knows your style. 

“Mmm… something like this?” He holds up a dress that just barely can be called one, black rhinestone straps being held together with skinny strips of fabric that would barely cover your breasts or ass, and you roll your eyes and put it back on the rack. “I’m kidding, just kidding. That’s more the local strippers’ vibe, I know.”

“You’re revealing a bit about your habits, huh.” You look at him pointedly. 

“Hey, blame the job. That’s where most dudes want to meet up.” Bucky scans through the rack and then picks up a much more you dress, something maroon, little embroidered flowers and filigree in the threadwork, and fitted enough that it would show off your body. Shorter than you would’ve liked, but you figure that’s Bucky’s gaze coming in.

“Wow.” You reach out for it, and Bucky gives you a smile that you’re sure has dazzled many, many women. 

“I’ll, uh, let you try that on. I’m heading to work, but I’ll see ya around, doc.” Bucky flashes a quick wave at you and heads on out, and you’re left feeling like you wanted more out of him.

/

The next session with Bucky, probably the ninth or tenth, he’s a lot more agreeable. A lot more open about what’s going on.

“My ma, you know, she’s getting into a bit of a hostile nature. I don’t know what spurred it on.” Bucky shakes his head and looks towards the ceiling. “She never used to get so upset over some of these things– last week she got upset because the wallpaper of her new sitting room was too dark or something– and I think she’s losing it. She’s losing control and doesn’t know what to do.”

“You’re right, Mr. Barnes. How does that affect you?” You lean in as you write this down. “How will you respond to that?”

“I think I get it, you know, doc? I feel like I can’t control everything all the time either.” Bucky begins a rhythm, showing his understanding of the situation. “She’s not wrong that it’s annoying when the little things don’t work out… sometimes it’s like all the small things are building up and then everything feels shit and you have to start screaming.”

“Good. Yes, exactly.” You nod your agreement, and Bucky nods and keeps going.

“I don’t know what I can do. Sometimes it feels like she’s got something, some undiagnosed illness, because even if I support her, she’s not always listening.” Bucky sounds despondent. “I say that she’s not at fault for what happens to her. That she’s not crazy, just in a bad place. But she tells me to fuck off, too, and I don’t… I can’t say I don’t deserve that, because I know I haven’t been the best son. I am the one of the things she can’t control, and even if there’s been some good, some helpful stuff… I still know she loathes me.”

“It’s difficult to come to terms with some of the negative things you may have done to her.” You feel more invested in Bucky’s story than you thought you would– you can see tears building up in his eyes. “But I commend you for doing your best, Mr. Barnes. I hope you can recognize this is a big milestone in your own personal development– even if it is difficult to rebuild your relationship with your mother, you are still there for her, and you can see what she needs. You must understand that your mother’s reaction to you is outside of your control. You can simply try your best to continue on with this knowledge and her, or move on past it– I believe you will make the right decision, though.”

Bucky sniffs a little, and wipes his eyes. “Thanks, doc. I’m glad we have these talks– you make me feel smarter.”

You half-smile at that. “I’m only showing you what you are already capable of, Mr. Barnes.”

He snickers a little. “My ma would like you.”

You feel a swell of pride and fondness that Bucky would say such a thing, even if you have no idea how true that it is, and you do your best to just keep that repressed. You can’t go on as his therapist if you’re starting to get too involved.

Bucky asks if he can pay you double for your services and you insist that he doesn’t need to do that. You feel as if you’ve gained more than just a well-paying client– you enjoy your sessions with him now.

/

Wanda’s birthday dinner is swanky, at some upper-class Italian place down by Brighton. Wanda is half-amused, half-irritated that you’re wearing such a lovely red-toned dress, but she says nothing of it.

Viz, your brother, is kind of weird around you. He seems to notice something about you.

“Anything different at work? Maybe a pay raise, something like that?” He asks out of curiosity at the dinner table, and you shake your head. “Ah, well. You just seem so smiley, sis.”

“Yeah. Just glowing, and at my birthday, too.” Wanda jokes, and you don’t have any answers.

You feel as if you know the reason why– and he shows up just as you’re thinking it.

Bucky is dressed in a nice blazer, dress pants, looking much more slick than he often does at your office. He comes in with most likely another member of his gang, and together they go sit in a corner booth.

You feel your face flush a deep red– he looks gorgeous, almost as if he could ditch being a mob boss and become an actor or a model instead. You can’t help but glance at him, hoping he’ll catch your eyes.  

Eventually, you get up to use the restroom. You stumble a little on your heels– and it’s that motion that causes Bucky to look up again. 

He’s taken aback– it’s you, but you look stunning, far more beautiful than he had ever seen you look during your sessions together, and that’s saying a lot because you were already incredibly distracting before, and a part of him is jealous and wonders why you’ve held yourself away from him like that. But Bucky is more rational now, and he knows that you haven’t done anything to make him attracted to you. He’s just like that.

He notices, with a bit of a possessive, satisfied flair, that you’re wearing the dress he picked. Bucky was right, it does suit you a lot, and he enjoys being able to make out your figure while having a bit of it left to his imagination. He sees the dip of your collar, where your cleavage is just beginning to come out, and bites his lip, hoping that he’d get to see more soon if he was so lucky.

You pass by his table, pulling your shawl a little tighter around you, and Bucky waves at you. You seem to blush– and he likes it a lot, likes being able to make the smart, always-one-step-ahead doctor flustered– and it’s like your roles have been switched, that you are now looking for his approval.

He gives it you readily. “You look great, doc. Love the hair– and the dress.”

“Ah… thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You beam warmly at him, and continue on your way to the washroom.

“Who the hell was that?” Steve asks, scratching his beard.

“Uh, right. That was my therapist.”

“That was your therapist?” Steve splutters, and Bucky shoves him a little. “Jesus, man. I need to get me one of those. She was hot.”

Bucky agrees with him, but still tells him to fuck off. He doesn’t want to share you. 

He motions to one of the waitresses, and tells her he’d like to pay for your table anonymously. When the bill arrives, many hours later, Wanda is incredibly confused on who would pay for her birthday dinner– she’s convinced it must be a secret birthday gift, and you only take credit for it because you don’t want to be found out like this.

You had no idea Bucky would do that for you.

/

A few weeks later, at another session, Bucky seems easily drawn to you. More than before.

“Rebecca’s getting ready. She gets a little too dolled up nowadays– but she knows no guy is going to talk shit with her now.” Bucky admits, and you wonder where this story is going. “She can tell I’m different, she keeps asking me what’s going on.”

“You’re very free to tell her what’s going on, Mr. Barnes.”

“Yes… but…” Bucky omits the fact that Rebecca seems certain he’s into a girl. She’s always had this weird uncanny ability to tell when Bucky’s got his eyes set on someone, whether it be some random girl at the bar, or someone like you– you’re one in a million for Bucky. 

Someone he really, truly likes. 

He clears his throat– he knows it’s inappropriate, it’s wrong, but he can’t help himself. You are too sweet, too lovable and kind and intelligent in ways that he’s not entirely familiar with, so it’s entirely too easy for him to simply give in and fall for you.  

He knows the boundaries you set. Respect, professional respect for the space that you’re in. It would be especially bad because of the nature of his work– he knows that even if he could protect you, you probably don’t want to be involved in that lifestyle.

“I don’t want to break your cover, doc. It’s best if I just tell her nothing about it for now.” Bucky concludes, and you shrug at that. “Anyways– I found out that she was going to go out with Steve, that ugly ass motherfucker that I still keep around for some reason, and I just yelled at her. I thought I was over it, but I’m not.”

“Have you considered that your sister is an adult who knows what she’s getting into?” You suggest. “She might not be the one to get hurt. Perhaps she wants the same thing he does– as you’ve said before, Steve is rather good at hooking up with women and running away afterwards.”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s terrible– he loves girls and doesn’t know how to deal with it, so he’s full of commitment issues.” Bucky waves Steve’s issues aside while you are impressed at how quickly he was able to suss that out. “Rebecca is gonna be the death of me. She can live her own life, I’m not concerned about that– it’s that I know she’s doing this shit to rile me up.”

“Ah, I see.” You hum over that. “You could simply pretend not to care– many people stop those kind of actions when they see it’s not having an effect.”

“That’s true.” Bucky still shudders. “Still, if they fuck up– both of them– I will spend the rest of my life hearing their arguments.”

“Why not try to find an alternative person for Rebecca to date, then?” You think for a moment. “Or maybe she could find an actor of some sort. I don’t believe she means for this to last in a long term way.”

“Okay, that could also be true.” Bucky admits, and his eyes find yours. “Maybe I’m just looking for the worst outcome.”

Bucky seems better and better with every session– in this case it seems like his personal problems have been rectified just halfway into it– and he still spends the rest of the hour talking to you.

“You still worried about your brother’s new kid?” Bucky asks, remembering how last time he left the session he heard you yelling into your cellphone about it.

“That was a private conversation, but, uh, yes.” You decide to answer him honestly. “Yes, I am worried. My brother can sometimes be very– unemotional, detached, and it’s bad for his first child to grow up in that environment.”

“Hey, at least the kid has you. Therapist aunt– I bet you’ll help out in some ways.” Bucky points at you, and you agree with that. “Talk to your brother more. He’ll listen if he sees that you’re serious.”

You know Bucky’s right, but you have to wonder when you started taking advice from him– it’s almost as if he’s giving you little mafia tidbits, like intimidating your brother by persisting at the conversation– and you actually don’t mind it.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You get up to bid him goodbye.

Bucky has an unreadable expression as he leaves, and he gently, but firmly, grasps your hand before going out the door, a grip that feels strangely intimate, and you’re left standing there with an urge for more, your mouth agape in a bit of shock. 

/

Bucky calls a week later sounding incredibly apologetic.

“I’m sorry, doc. I can’t make today’s session.” He sounds strangely heartbroken.

“Hey, that’s alright, Mr. Barnes. I’ll see what I can do in terms of refunding you.” You hope that’s all he called for. Recently there was something in the news about the Russian gangs of Brighton Beach having a kerfuffle with the cops– you can only assume that’s what Bucky’s gotten into, and you feel kind of guilty that you let yourself get so close to him.

“No, that’s alright. Keep the cash, I don’t mind that.” Bucky yells something incoherent, there are alarming gun-shot like sounds in the background, and then he comes back to the phone. “Listen, doc– I’m sorry, you can do without me as a patient. I don’t wanna risk anything with you, and if that means you gotta let me go, then do it.”

You are silent for a moment.

You’re hopeless, and you know it.

All it took was for Bucky to be the one who was genuinely concerned for you– for him to put you first when he’s surely in a dangerous situation right now– and you’re smiling like a damn fool, wishing that you could just let him go. You don’t want to.

You know you’re appealing to a dangerous man, but you don’t care.

“It’s okay, Mr. Barnes. Our sessions can continue.” You murmur, and Bucky laughs on the other side of the phone. 

“Alright, doc. I had a feeling you didn’t want to let go of our progress.” He states, and you wonder if he knows about your feelings for him.

He might just be thinking that you are entirely sophisticated about this whole thing. He doesn’t know that you’ve dreamed of him, silly domestic dreams where Bucky is the husband to your doting self, or ones where you tell him your fears and he listens, and vows to protect you, or extremely explicit dreams where he simply shuts you up with a kiss and spreads your legs. You do not know how to stop these– you feel that you have gained too much by liking him. It’s been a while since you’ve crushed on someone and felt that it could go somewhere.

At the very least, you do want to at least ensure his success as a patient of yours. You will get over this, it’s just that… you still have a sheepish smile even after Bucky has hung up the phone, and that’s not good.

You make a note not to go any further than this.

/ 

At your next session, Bucky is despondent, clearly not telling you something that bothers him. He spends most of the session rather upset and quiet.

“Doc, do you think I’m a good man?” He says it with not a hint of irony.

You fall quiet. You don’t know if a murderer will ever be considered a good man, and you don’t want to make that moral conclusion. You’re not a god.

“I don’t think that’s up to me, Mr. Barnes.” You start, and Bucky immediately pelts you with more questions.

“But you think I’m morally repugnant, right? That’s something I read on the news the other day.” Bucky scoffs at himself. “I can’t believe I thought I was better than that.”

“You can be, if you want to be. I’m not saying it forgives your past transgressions, but–” You fix your vision on him. “You have to make the choice to be a good man before you can ask others if you are.”

“And you think I have that potential?”

“...Yes. I’m not just saying this as your therapist, Mr. Barnes.” You swallow and then answer him honestly. “I believe if you want to be a better man, you have it in you to do so. You want the truth, right?”

Bucky nods, and leans closer in.

“Being a good man, a good person, can not be synonymous with being apart of the mafia. I’m somewhat apologetic about this, but–” You wince at your own fears at his reaction. “Eventually you would have to leave, not just to be a better man, but to be a healed person, both mentally and physically.”

“...” Bucky stares you down for a bit. 

“Okay, doc. I hear you.” He leans back in his seat, and you let go of a breath you had no idea you were holding. “I’ll try to take your advice.”

You’re not sure how much faith you can have in him. Something about the way Bucky stares at you and leaves this time, it screams control issues again– perhaps this is the last time you’d ever see him. You brace yourself for a no-show next week, and a phone call cancelling his appointments.

It saddens you– you’ll miss him.

/ 

Unfortunately for you, Bucky shows up at your next session with a bouquet of flowers. Chrysanthemums- you’re very sure Bucky has done this because of the framed photo in your office of them. He’s being a little too thoughtful, and you’re worried.

“Mr. Barnes. You’re a little early.” You start off, and sit at your chair.

“I’ve paid for the hour, don’t worry.” He grins and then approaches you, looking at the floor, your face, and then back at your desk again. He’s clearly nervous.

“Go out with me, doc.” Bucky offers, and you shake your head, just out of principle.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I just feel that you’re desperately searching for a way to fulfill–”

“Enough of the shrink talk! Jesus Christ.” Bucky scowls, and then fixes himself, standing upright as you back up a little. “Do you have any idea how I feel? How I think about you at every second? You’re fucking up my work, too–”

“That’s not really my fault–” You try, but Bucky shushes you, walking towards you and grasping your hands so quickly that you cannot help but look up at him again. His blue eyes are squinting, peering so desperately into your own, turning grey with how serious he is.

You’re mildly frightened, but you would be lying if you said you never saw the signs of his attraction before. How his gaze lingered on you for far too long, how he would occasionally comment on your beauty, how he would constantly compliment your intelligence… you at first thought that perhaps Mr. Barnes was bad at recognizing the difference between a woman who was into him, and a woman who simply had emotional intelligence. You could blame the way that society expects women to mother their partners for that.

But lately you had been feeling something new, something you didn’t suspect would happen. And there wasn’t anything wrong with that– therapy is a personal practice after all, you can’t blame yourself for your own feelings– but you never thought he would reciprocate so clearly, holding your hand like this. He always seemed enigmatic until now, and you wish you could change things.

Even worse, you could tell he was making progress– he was really trying to be more than what he thought of himself. He could be kind, sweet even, and it’s with some embarrassment and fondness that you find yourself looking forward to his appointments. Lately you’ve caught yourself smiling about him for no reason, even though you feel this relationship– a budding one between the two of you– could change things for the worse, and you don’t want that for him.

Bucky traces your knuckles with his thumb, and he leans in towards you, whispering very, very carefully. 

“I like you. I think you’re very special in a way that cannot be found in other people. I don’t want you to be scared of me… I just want you to know that I’m interested in you.” Bucky kisses your hand, and you are drawn to a silence, unable to figure out what to say.

“Mr. Barnes–” You start, and then stop yourself. “Bucky… I don’t want to be the reason why you didn’t get better.”

“But I am better, don’t you get it? God, for a doctor, you can really be dense.” Bucky snickers and then holds your hands closer. “I like you. I think you’re wonderful. Smart, beautiful, a real challenge. I think you’re why I’m better, and not just because of therapy– Jesus, that’s fucking cheesy but it’s true– sometimes I know I can’t keep being the White Wolf, the boss of this gang, because you make me think it over, and I want to do right by you and what you’ve taught me.”

“So you’re going to remove yourself from your gang?” You ask honestly, peering up into Bucky’s eyes to see if he’s telling the truth. He looks so solemn– so sure of himself.

“I already knew that I needed to, doc. I knew it when you said that I was hurting myself by being there. Of course there are some things that I like about it–” He cuts himself off, and presses his forehead to yours, grasping your cheeks. “The gang isn’t going to survive very long, anyways. Everyone knows it can only last so long, and a lot of them are moving on into the show business.”

“I didn’t think Hollywood was so transparent on their mafia connections.” You whisper, and Bucky snickers at your response.  “But what about your heart palpitations?”

“They’ve been reduced by a lot. I used your trauma response workshopping thing and it helped me.” Bucky takes on a funny little smile. “And I think the only thing fucking up my heart now is you. I used to have it figured out, you know? But I can’t continue another day being that guy. Let me take you out, please.”

Bucky’s final plea rings through you, and you can’t find it in you to reject him this time. He’s got you wrapped around his finger– and being so candid, so honest about how he felt, really every therapist’s dream– you search his eyes and it’s no surprise when Bucky leans in to kiss you. 

Your eyes are wide open as he does, in shock, because you’re not expecting him to do this, and he moves– his hands wrap around your waist and he inhales as his tongue sweeps against your own, and you kiss back before you can tell yourself not to. 

Bucky pulls back, breathing hard, and you feel yourself turn warm at his reaction. You watch as his face comes towards yours again– you have to pull away, too.

“What is it?” Bucky sounds a little wary.

“If we continue like this– I can’t be your therapist anymore. I can’t do both things, it would unethical and hard to separate.” You swallow, and then nod. “Promise me you won’t use me for therapy anymore, Bucky.”

“I… of course, doc. I would never expect both from you.” He sounds sorry about it, at least. “I’m not trying to use you– I really, really like you.”

He hums as he leans in for another kiss and this time you let yourself have at him– why not let yourself have a little fun, right, even if it’s in your place of work– and Bucky lifts you up easily, his mouth connecting to your jaw, and then neck, before setting you down at your desk. 

“I think I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.” He shares, and you look affronted.

“Are you telling me you weren’t focused?” You push his chest, but Bucky holds your hands back.

“Of course I was focused, I just had a different subject in mind.” Bucky brushes aside a piece of your hair. “You can’t tell me I’m the first man to have fallen for you like this– I have to think that in an enclosed space like this, most guys are checking out the pretty doctor.”

“Uh… well maybe there’s been others, but–” As you say this, Bucky’s eyes narrow a little and you remember that he is kind of the jealous type. “None of them have been as forward as you. None of them asked me out.”

“Good.” Bucky leans in and kisses you again, and you’re very glad your office door is shut and locked.

Bucky lifts you again, easily, his mouth connecting with yours and then to where your collarbone just peeks out of your top, and he sits you down on his lap on the armchair where he often states his opinions and thoughts on his life. Bucky seems to be admiring you– you can’t escape his gaze as he looks at you from side to side.

“If you’re not a mob boss anymore… all I ask is if you’re serious about this. About me?” You ask, so earnestly, that Bucky has to feel some crushing regret about how he never quite told you the truth.

“I never… I never did all that stuff with girls. It was a front, you know, it is a front for a lot of gang members. They gotta show that they’re desirable.” Bucky shakes his head. “But I was more focused on, uh… cleaning up ‘stains’, talking to ‘coworkers’, you feel me? I was addicted to that violent, electric feeling. Never again, though.”

“Okay. I trust you.” You’re not sure why you believe him so strongly, but you do, and even if every red flag in your therapist knowledge is currently being raised right now (trauma bonding, love bombing, manipulation, the list goes on and on)– you think he’s being honest. You do believe based on everything Bucky has told you previously, that he doesn’t mess around with girls, and he is trying to leave behind his lifestyle. You can even see it in his latest heart analysis results, as his physician showed you recently.

You’re so grateful that you helped him in this way. That you got him to reach his fullest potential. And a little evil, selfish part of you likes that he chose you, too, as he leans in and kisses you again.

[emmabarnes]

Something Sweet

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: 636

Summary: You, Joel and Ellie make a stop by Bill and Frank’s place and have just a small moment of real peace. 

Author’s Note: This is for Navy and Roo’s slumber party @the-slumberparty week 1 and the prompt bouquet of flowers. When I saw this I was instantly hit with a few ideas but Joel was the first and since I haven’t written him yet I thought this might be a nice start. Thank you both for hosting and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics​ thank you love🥰

Warnings: Softness and fluff

This gives a nod to episode 3 of ‘The Last of Us’ but there are no real spoilers, however, just want to give you a heads up! 

You kneel on the ground, the grass soft and cool underneath you and the sun warm at your back as you sift through the tangled vines and leaves. Your eyes catch something bright red and you dig further until you uncover a real treat.

Smiling to yourself you begin to carefully collect the strawberries, your one free hand already full and the fresh smell wafting up to your nose.

The air is filled with the sounds of nature; several birds chirp and twitter in the large oak tree above you and honeybees buzz as they hover over the flowers of the strawberry plant.

You search around the area for something to hold them in and spot an old and rusted watering can.

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[emmabarnes]

𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing // Biker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count // 1.7k Event // @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer | Week 1 - "What should I wear?" Warnings // Swearing, pet names, fluff, possessive Bucky and his absolutely fucking filthy mouth, smut (fingering, praise + ring kink, dirty talk, inappropriate use of a motorcycle seat) Author's Note // Who knew I would ever type that warning, huh? I have missed my Biker!Bucky, so here he is, back with a vengeance.

Brotherhood & Bullets Masterlist | Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Playing innocent with Bucky never worked – it didn’t mean you wouldn’t try, not when the payoff was precisely what you craved.

Wearing the coveted leather kutte that belonged to Bucky wasn’t something taboo, per se. Sure, you had made him wear it during certain moments, it was a weakness – you couldn’t help it; being the one to reap the rewards of Bucky being in control was something to sing to the heavens about. 

But, wearing only his kutte, with his favourite burgundy Henley that rested and brushed against your thighs as you made morning coffee? You would get more than a reward that you were fucking sure of. 

The quiet tink of the coffee mugs hitting the countertop echoed through the kitchen, and you started to hum quietly as you gathered ingredients for breakfast – pancakes and bacon, Bucky’s favourite. 

“Well, well,” Bucky rasped, voice thick with sleep, and you jumped. The fridge door closed with a slam, and you stood facing Bucky – grey sweatpants low on his hips and arms crossed across his chest, all whilst leaning on the damn doorway. “What do we have here?”

“Nothing,” you blurted, the kutte on your back suddenly cumbersome and warm. “I’m making coffee. Do you want breakfast?”

Bucky shook his head, still staring you down – the heat in his gaze pinned you where you stood. “I was plannin’ on taking you out today, sweetheart,” he said, brows furrowing as if he was considering something. “But, I have one problem. D’you know what that is, baby?”

Slowly, you shook your head, biting your lip. The action didn’t go unnoticed, and Bucky just stared at your lips as you spoke, “No, what is it, babe?”

Darkened eyes met yours, and you suppressed a shiver. “My kutte,” Bucky began. Your heart stuttered as he stepped forward, gesturing at your clothed chest. “It’s currently on the sexiest woman walkin’ this fuckin’ earth, and she isn’t sittin’ on my bike. You see how that’s a problem now, sweetheart?”

Heaven above, help me, you prayed, looking down at your fidgeting hands. “N-No, I don’t see–”

“Oh, baby girl, don’t play dumb with me just yet,” Bucky purred. Heat pooled low in your stomach, and you took a slight step back, but he only neared closer, ignoring the way you shifted in place – you hated how he broke down your defences so fast. “Look me in the eye, sweetheart.”

You did, and you whimpered. The blazing stare turned your insides to lava, scorching and writhing. Helplessly, you stood rooted to the spot as Bucky grabbed your chin to tilt your face up. “Say it, go on. I’m waitin’.”

“I see the problem,” you mumbled, and Bucky smirked. 

“And what is it, sweetheart?” Bucky cooed. “What is my problem?”

“I’m not sitting on your bike.”

Bucky’s bright grin blindsided you, and you shuffled your feet, only just keeping a whine in your throat. “Atta girl, and you know how we can fix that?” You shook your head in his grip. “Get your ass into that garage and stand next to my bike, baby. Do not take off my kutte.”

You scampered into the garage as Bucky moved to lean on the counter to watch you go. Breathe – in and out, in and out; you soothed yourself. The black and gold Indian loomed as you opened the door, and you padded over to it – only realising just now how big the seat was. 

The door suddenly slammed, and you looked up. Bucky was stalking towards you with a wolfish grin. “Good girl.” The lack of keys in his hand made you nervous, you opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky cupped your face in his hands. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a damn thing, baby girl.” He pulled away and swung a leg over the frame, sitting comfortably astride his chariot; however, he was sitting further back than what he would do if he were to ride.  

Confused, you furrowed your brows. “Wha-”

“No,” Bucky interrupted, pointing at the space between his thighs. “Sit down.”

You blanched. There would be just enough room for you to fit, and your bare thighs would sit just as Bucky’s did when sitting properly in his seat. “But-”

“Do as you’re told, sweetheart,” Bucky growled, patting the seat. “Sit the fuck down.” 

You hastened to lift your leg up and over, and Bucky smiled softly, guiding you to sit comfortably and resting his hands on your waist to settle you in place – bare and on the leather seat of his Indian. The thought alone made you quietly keen. “Was that so hard, baby?”

“No,” you mumbled, and Bucky hummed, running his hands up and down your sides over the leather of his kutte. “What’re you doi-”

“Shh,” Bucky hushed. The cool metal of his rings against your hip startled you. “Just listen to me, alright?” You nodded. Thoughts had started to turn into molasses – Bucky had hardly done anything, and you were pliant, just how he liked it. 

“‘M gonna need you to hold the handlebars, sweetheart,” Bucky mumbled, his breath hot on your neck before he trailed open mouthed kisses from your shoulder to your ear. “Go on, baby.”

“Bucky, please, I- I need-” You tried, fumbling to grab hold of the handlebars when Bucky’s hand cupped your breast over his Henley. 

“I know what you need, baby girl,” Bucky breathed, “c’mon, do as you’re told.”

“Oh,” you moaned as Bucky’s hand squeezed, the other trailing to your lower stomach. The handlebars were cold in your grip, starkly contrasting with the fire consuming you. “Please.”

“I like hearing you beg for me, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured. The cold bite of his rings against your inner thigh made you whimper. “But ‘m feelin’ generous today, you see? I wake up to seein’ my everythin’ paradin’ around the kitchen in nothin’ but my Henley and my kutte. Do you know what that did to me, baby girl?”

You trembled in his hold and squeaked when his palm resting on your stomach pulled you closer, and you felt his hard cock against your lower back. “That’s what you do, baby.”

“Please,” you breathed. The ache had settled between your thighs, and you glanced down at the seat to find a small patch of slick. Bucky clicked his tongue. 

“Can’t have my girl hurtin’, can I?” Bucky mused. The pressure on your hips increased, and you sighed; the feel of Bucky’s fingers circling towards your cunt made you shiver. “Remember,” he warned, voice low in your ear, “you let go of those handlebars, I stop–you don’t want that, do you, sweetheart?”

“No, I don’t- Just, please, touch me, Bucky!”

“So sweet,” Bucky purred, tucking his face into your neck. “Hold on now, baby girl.”

The first graze of Bucky’s fingers on your clit made you cry out, you tried to move back against him, but he held you fast – the heat seeping from his chest and through the leather of his kutte to your back became suffocating. “Fuck, Bucky- ohmygod,” you gasped as he applied more pressure. 

“So wet for me, sweetheart, fuck,” Bucky mumbled. His grip around your middle tightened, and you heaved for breath. “Stay still for me, baby; I know you can. Lemme just,” he continued, his movements practised and thorough in their exploration. His fingers pushed achingly slow into your cunt, and you moaned aloud, only to keen loudly when he curled them. “There we go, good girl.”

Unbeknownst to you – unable to think nor feel anything but the incessant touch of Bucky’s fingers, your fingers started slipping from the handlebars while you squirmed. The abrupt stop in his movements pulled a whine from your lips. “Ah, ah, you know the rules, baby,” Bucky scolded, pressing into your back and pushing you closer to the damn handlebars. 

You cried and groped for the now hot rubber of the accelerator and brake. “That’s it, sweetheart,” Bucky soothed. “Here we go.”

The litany of cries pulled from your lips as Bucky started his rhythm in earnest would have embarrassed you. Still, here you were, trapped against his chest while wearing his kutte, and making a mess of his seat. 

“You look so beautiful, baby girl,” Bucky breathed, moving his arm to tilt your head back with his hand. You felt so enclosed in his grip, and you moaned in response, at a loss of words with his fingers pumping in and out of your cunt. “I think I can get you to cum a lot faster than this, don’t you think?”

“Oh, god- Yes, I need more-” You babbled, and Bucky chuckled darkly. 

“I know you do, sweetheart.” Time froze when Bucky moved his wrist and angled his hand, the change of pressure making you gasp. “You don’t hold back on me, baby; I want you to fuckin’ soak my bike.”

Bucky’s ringed and tattooed fingers pumped so fast in and out of your cunt that the sounds echoed off the garage walls. “Fuck!” You cried, trying to twist away from the onslaught, the pressure becoming unbearable. “Bucky!”

“Handlebars,” Bucky snapped, and you sobbed, gripping them for dear life again. “You wanna cum, baby? You close for me?” Your fervent nod only served to make Bucky growl, a low rumble in his chest. “You don’t know how fuckin’ hard you make me wearing my kutte, fuck, baby girl, cum for me; I need you to fuckin’ cum.”

“Bucky! Don’t stop, oh fuck- Ah!” You could have sworn Bucky went faster, his grip only becoming tighter and forcing you to sit still. “Don’t stop! I’m-”

Bucky groaned, moving his thighs to cradle yours. “Be a good girl; give it to me, c’mon.”

The tension snapped – violent in its waves, and you screamed, writhing in Bucky’s grip while he continued to pump his fingers in and out, curling them to ride out your release. “Tha’s it, sweetheart, god fucking damn, fuck, baby girl,” he rambled, his voice barely audible over the roar of blood in your ears. “S’good for me, perfect.”

Shudders gripped your body while you came down, quiet whimpers and heavy pants for breath, second most to the coos of praise from Bucky behind you, his hand now splayed on your stomach over his Henley, the other holding you close to his chest. “Oh my god,” you huffed.

Bucky laughed. “You alright?”

“Y-Yeah, what the fuck possessed you?” You asked, resting back in a slump, letting him take your weight. 

“I told you,” Bucky murmured, kissing the side of your head. “You look fuckin’ sexy in my kutte–next time, I want you in nothin’ but my kutte.”

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[emmabarnes]

Dosed [one-shot]

Summary: Sex pollen? Sex pollen.

Pairing: Winter Soldier x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ EXPLICIT. Mentions of sex trafficking, mentions of rape, sex pollen/serum, Winter Soldier!Bucky, rough sex, fingering, oral (f) biting, choking, masturbation, a little bit of blood. I think that’s it.

☕ If you enjoy my work consider donating to my Ko-Fi.

Something’s wrong.

You know it as soon as his massive figure yanks open your cell door. Lurks in the frame of it and glares. A brickhouse of muscle, defined, coiled sinew that shifts beneath the tight undershirt he wears. He’s sinful in black, the Asset, a dark plague unleashed upon the earth to pillage and burn and kill.

The door is a clang behind him, and his imposing body takes two steps forward. Behind the curtain of dirty chestnut hair, pupils blown black, gaze itself hazy, and you know.

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[emmabarnes]

A New Uniform

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky is in need of new mission attire. You help him get all the details of his new suit, and the two of you relish in the new look of Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: fluff. Pet name (sweetheart). Working on the details ppl, it’s a process. Shy Bucky

A/N: Howdy! Flabbergasted by the response on my last post *gasp* Also did not expect almost 100 followers within my first two months on this app. #feelinggrateful

“What’s going on in that handsome head of yours?”

Bucky glanced up at you with a smirk which he was most definitely trying to hide. His hand brushed through his fluffy short brown hair as he sat back in his chair.

“Steve says I need a mission suit. Something less, winter soldier-ish, I guess.”

He was clearly flustered. There were lots of scribbles on his legal pad. Some words and a few sketches, a few pens snapped in half from Bucky’s strong grip were thrown off to the side next to his cup of black coffee.

You sighed and lightly placed your hand on his shoulder, rubbing your thumb soothingly in circles as your head rested on his opposite shoulder. Leaning his head on yours, Bucky muttered a quick, “I don’t know,” before tossing his pen on the notepad.

“What do you want in a suit?”

Bucky took a moment to compose his thoughts. “Something comfortable, maybe a suit that doesn’t restrict,” he motioned to his arm, “ya know that, and oh,” his expression brightened as he said, “pockets! Lots of pockets.”

“Okay fair points,” you lightly chuckled as you sat on his lap looking between him and the notepad. Bucky’s hand came to rest around your waist while his head rested on your arm.

“Let’s start at material,” you said assuringly, taking the pen from the notepad and scribbling the word material in a blank space.

“I usually wear black,” Bucky muttered.

“You said you wanted something less from your past right? What other colors do you like?”

“My ma always said blue looked good on me. She said it matches my eyes,” Bucky’s eyes stared off into nothing as he remembered his mother. Your touch finally broke his train of thought while you ran your hand lightly up and down his arm.

“What about navy hm? It’s a nice transition from the all black. I agree with your mom, but I just really love your eyes.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he murmured completely blushing. “I like navy.” He was in awe of your thinking. It was a silly superhero suit, but it was more than that to him. It was a step in a new direction and for you to want to help him and care about it, that was everything to Bucky.

“Okay and you want comfort, no left sleeve, and pockets,” you mumbled while scribbling down all that you said.

“Lots of pockets,” Bucky added in a playful tone.

“Lots of pockets,” you teased back with a giggle, turning to him with a smile.

———

It was two weeks later and Bucky was anxious up until now when he got his suit from whoever makes all the Avengers suits. It was packaged in a nice box, addressed politely to Sargent James Buchanan Barnes.

You sat excitedly waiting for Bucky to walk out into the living room. The rest of the team was out on missions, so it was just you and Bucky to take in his new look.

Finally, he stepped out, first, you saw his boots which were his usual black boots that he had worn for forever. Then his pants which were new black leather, they were sleek with small red detailing just below his hips.

The real pièce de résistance of it all was the shirt, a nice navy leather covered his chest with one black strap placed across his chest, the same red from the pants making little appearances on the apparel. His waist was perfectly fitted to the leather, slim but oh so sexy.

He looked nervous as he stepped out, clearly worried about your opinion. Taking a few more steps, he stood showing off his new look. Confidence was spread all across his face the second he saw your expression.

“You look so handsome Buck,” you said in awe of your boyfriend.

“Comfortable?” You asked, standing up from your chair.

“Very,” Bucky replied looking down and taking in his look once more. “Look,” he said all excited taking your hand and pulling you towards him.

“Pockets,” he whispered like a kid telling you a secret. He turned a few times to show the pockets laid out around his suit. The two of you laughed and giggled as you took in every little detail of the suit, ooing and aweing at certain features that were minuscule to the average person but important to Avengers.

There were lots of great things about this moment but the best feeling was seeing Bucky not as the winter soldier, but much more than his previous title. He would tell you often of how sometimes when he looks in the mirror, he still sees the winter soldier. He pictures himself with the long greasy hair and the scowl, as if that part of him is coinciding with him always.

“So, do I look like a superhero?”

“Yes, but also,” you came around to look in the mirror with him. Your hands placed at each side of his arms, with the two of you just taking in his look.

“You look like Bucky. Just Bucky.”

Bucky was no one else but himself, and for the first time in a long time, he agreed with you.

[emmabarnes]

i could have chosen you (and yes, i would) - Masterlist

Summary: To form an alliance with another Kingdom, your father arranges a marriage between you and James, the duke of Barnes and best friend of King Steve I of a neighbouring kingdom, and you struggle to make a relationship out of your arranged union. Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, arranged marriage, medieval AU, fluff, eventual smut.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 on Patreon (10th of May on Tumblr) Chapter 8 on Patreon (17th of May on Tumblr) Chapter 9 on Patreon (24th of May on Tumblr) Chapter 10 on Patreon (31st of May on Tumblr) Chapter 11 on Patreon (7th of June on Tumblr)

. . .

"i could have chosen you (and yes, i would)" was posted on my Patreon in October 2022 and is fully posted on my page. To read it before anyone else, consider subscribing! It's just $2 a month and it helps me a lot during these hard times.

. . .

Tag list is open!

[emmabarnes]

Chicken Soup for the Soul

Summary - Chicken soup cures all, right? Well, when you find yourself struck down by the Flu you stubbornly hide away from a certain Super Soldier in a bid to keep from breaking your no feelings vow. 

Pairing - Bucky x Reader

Warnings - Mentions of being ill, mild swearing, F L U F F.

A/N -  A request from an Anon. An attempt to sooth my post Infinity-War soul. We all agree it didn’t happen, right? Feedback loved and appreciated. 

Keep reading

[emmabarnes]

Masked Stranger

Pairing: knight!bucky barnes x queen!reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: While attending a masquerade ball for Lord Starks birthday, your knight decides to surprise you. 

Warnings: fluff, like the teeniest bit of angst in the form of a secret relationship, implied smut, kissing, dancing. Do to the content of my blog being 18+, that applies here too. 

As always, thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are all very much appreciated.

If you liked the story, please consider checking out my Ko-Fi

Series Masterlist || Bucky Masterlist || Main Masterpost

Bucky’s relationship with you was still a secret to anyone not within your trusted circle, which is why when you were invited to Lord Stark’s masquerade ball, he wasn’t able to attend as your partner. 

He rode in your carriage with you, sitting next to you as you spoke to him about this ball and who all would be in attendance. When you reached the border, he climbed out and mounted Bandit, keeping up appearances to anyone you might run into on the road. He was to sleep in the barracks with the other knights when he wasn’t on duty. And he was to watch over the ball from the sidelines, just like every other knight there. 

Keep reading

[emmabarnes]

aud pair

pairing: single dad!bucky barnes x au pair! reader

summary: finding himself alone, james barnes struggles with work and taking care of his young daughter. with no other option, he hires a graduate student to be his au pair.

author’s note: thank you to @talesofadragon​ for the lovely idea for this work’s name!

chapter 1 

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

following chapters upcoming soon

[emmabarnes]

This Must Be My Dream (BFB!AU Masterlist)

Pairing: bestfriend'sbrother!Bucky x f!reader (any race)

Status: In progress, updating occasionally not on a schedule

Summary: You've been best friends with Becca Barnes since third grade and have been pining over her older Bucky just as long

Warnings: age gap, swearing, alcohol consumption (everyone is of age!), oral (f and m receiving), smut (p in v, shower), praise, pet names [good girl, baby, sweetie, beautiful, pretty girl], little bit of a size kink, low-key angst, so much fluff, occasional angst

A/N: I finally made a masterlist post for this!! Here you will find all of the parts of my best friend's brother!bucky AU :) I will be posting new parts when I feel like it/get requests so please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future parts!! If you have any requests feel free to send them in, I'd love to hear from you <3

title is the 1975's song 'This Must Be My Dream'

main masterlist | one shot masterlist | au playlist

THIS SERIES IS 18+ MINORS DNI WITH ANY PART OF THIS POST

Last updated: May 17 2023

Part 1: Not Givin It Up Again

Part 2: It's Not Living (If It's Not With You)

Part 3: It's You And I, Tonight

Part 4: Love It If We Made It

Part 5: Thinking This Through

Extras:

Headcanon: PDA

Headcanon: Bucky takes care of you on your period

again, if you would like more parts feel free to send me requests/ideas!

If you would like to be tagged in future chapters/my other works please lmk &lt;3

Series tags: @peaches1958 @prettylittlepluviophile @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @enchantedbarnes @writerwrites @beefybuckrrito @thatblackravenclaw @cloudyfeelin @broco8 @searchf0rtheskyline @ducky2104 @emmabarnes

general tags: @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @emi11ie @paulasocean @silverfire475 @lovingchoices14 @nekoannie-chan @late-to-the-party-81 @chibijusstuff @midnightramyeoncravings @wickidlady @buckyb-stan @adoreyouusugar

everything bucky tags: @peaches1958 @prettylittlepluviophile @writerwrites @w0nderw0mansw0rld @hawsx3 @meetmeatyourworst @harrysthiccthighss @goldylions @late-to-the-party-81 @luxeavenger @cloudyfeel @searchf0rtheskyline @keliiiiiiii @urmom4130

[emmabarnes]

Catch Me If You Can 1/3

Mob!Bucky x Single mom police officer Reader 

This is a crack fic, ridiculousness, cuteness, angstttt. 

Warnings: Kidnapping, fluffffff, single mom reader, crappy ex, Mob Bucky is a whole ass warning 

LMK how you feel about these 2 

Part 2

Part 3

-

The plan was simple. Not the most ideal, not the first thing the mob boss would have planned to but desperate times called for desperate measures. He needed this shipment to go through and he was done being patient. 

“We gotta move quick” Bucky murmured, driving slowly behind the target, the dark windows of the SUV making it impossible to see who was inside. As soon as the traffic light turned red, they stopped the truck, swinging the doors open and stepping in front of their mark. 

Keep reading

[emmabarnes]

Okay here I am!! Hehe

Bartender bucky?? If you’re still willing to that is<33:)

Bartender!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

My Blood Turns Into Alcohol by @ltbarnes

Bucky Barnes doesn’t step out behind his trusted bar counter, no matter what goes on out on the floor. Until you, that is—the town newbie who stumbles inside the lanky old bar and won’t stop showing up in your pretty dresses and with that shy smile. Bucky is infuriated. Maybe that’s why he won’t let you pay for even one of your drinks, or why his coworkers won’t stop bothering him about you.

Double Blind by @wkemeup

Set up on what might be the worst blind date you’d ever been on, you find yourself captivated by the mysterious bartender instead.

the bar rules by @buckyhoney

pretty by @buckycuddlebuddy

“filthiest i’ve ever made,” he whispered, face very close to yours. “if you can handle it, i might take you up on that ‘convincing’ thing.”

Send Me An Angel by @navybrat817

Bucky thinks you're an angel.

Date With Ducky by @pepperonijem

"You started to water down my drink throughout the night and I drunkenly demand to know why.”

Two Years by @metalbuckaroo

Seeing you flirt with someone else, Bucky gets jealous and acts on something he’s been thinking of for two years.

Rum and Coke by @babyboibucky

You decide to pay your rival club a visit to see what the hype is all about.

Champagne Problems by @dollslayer

When your ex-boyfriend makes a surprise appearance at your sister's wedding you find help from an unexpected source.

side bar by @agentofkrypton

"I hate your voice, but god I love hearing you beg."

Don’t cross the bar by @bucky-at-bedtime

Bucky has one rule, until one day, someone forces him to change it.

Cheers! by @moonbeambucky

A charming bartender comes to your rescue after a night out leads to a broken heart.

[emmabarnes]

Pairing: Modern/"Adrenaline" AU!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: All your life, you've been too afraid to follow your passions, but with the help of a handsome stranger, all of that ends today.

Word count: 1.3K

Warnings: Anxiety and self-doubt. Innuendo. Bucky being hot and sweet. The kind of fear and thrill you except with "adrenaline" activities.

A/N: My WIPs probably resent this, but writing this was a fun little break from the much denser stuff I've been working on lately, so double thanks to @buckybarnesevents for hosting their Into an Alternate June-iverse challenge and for giving me an excuse to try something new! This is my submission for the "Adrenaline" AU (I think it counts for my "sport" square as well come to think of it...) on my Connect 4 card. I honestly wasn't sure what that meant at first, so hopefully you like what I did with it! Thanks for reading ❤️

“Oh no, oh no.”

The whisper slips out unintentionally, as the anxiety that’s been restlessly churning in your belly for the last hour creeps up and squeezes your lungs. You need to force it back down before it can turn into panic.

You force a slow breath in through your nose and out of your mouth. Pursing your lips and giving yourself a mental shake, you remind yourself sternly that you want this. You’ve been thinking about this for ages. You came here exactly for this reason. You are not going to back out now. You’re not. 

So that creeping anxiety, the one that is always keeping you from doing the things you want, is going to have to shove off. You’re tired of letting it rule you, you are in control of your life. You’re not going to let fear get in your way anymore. And especially not today. Not when you have an insanely hot man pressed up against your back, steady and firm and waiting for you.

The thought fills you with heat and sets your nerves fluttering once more. 

As if sensing the sudden uptick of your heart rate, he lightly lays his hands on your upper arms. Leaning forward he presses his mouth close to your ear.

“Are you alright, doll?”

Throat too tight for speech, you nod your head vigorously.

“Are you sure?” 

Even though you only met him two hours ago, the genuine concern in his voice is comforting. It’s an unspoken reminder of what he told you when you first approached him and told him just exactly what it is that you’ve been pining for: he’s all in, but this is your show, you call the shots. You get to decide how fast or how slow you want to take it. There’s no need to rush, he told you, he’s happy to go at your pace, whatever that might be. 

You believed him then and you still believe him now. And just like when he said it, it’s reassuring and empowering.

You let out a breath and feel the tension start to ease from your body. You press back into the solid comfort of his warm chest. 

But he misreads your continued silence and a spike of renewed panic shoots through you as he says, “We don’t have to-”

“No!” You jerk forward and whip your around to meet his eye over your shoulder. “No,” you say emphatically. “I want to. I want to do this.” 

He hears the renewed commitment in your voice and nods. But his brow is still wrinkled and you suddenly feel the need to make sure he really understands what this means to you. 

“All my life, I’ve-” you break off, not quite sure how to explain. But he watches you patiently. You know he’s really listening and it gives you courage. “I’ve always wanted more… to take more chances, do more things, push beyond what’s comfortable or what I'm 'supposed to do' and do something scary just because it scares me.” His blue eyes crinkle warmly and you feel stronger. “But I always talk myself out of it- or let somebody else convince me I'm not strong enough- because ‘girls like me don’t do things like that’. Not the shy girls, the quiet girls, the good girls.” 

Your voice catches and you take a deep breath. That old familiar feeling of doubt starts to stir in your chest and you rush on before it can take hold of you. 

“But not anymore. I’m not going to do that anymore. If I want something, I’m going to go for it. I don’t want to be that girl who’s too afraid to live. So I’m going to do this and lots more things just like it. I want to find out who I can be when I stop holding myself back.”

As you conclude your emotional monologue, your usual shyness nudges in and you press your teeth into your bottom lip and chew it nervously. But you hold his eye and you don’t look away.

He doesn’t say anything for a long minute, but his smile grows wide, warm and full of a kind of admiration you’re not used to seeing directed at you. 

“Alright then, sweetheart, I’m still in if you are.”

You smile shyly, but give a confident nod.

“Ready then?” he asks with a raise of his brow.

“Yes,” you reply firmly.

He smiles again then gestures with his head.

“Move up.”

Turning to face forward, you do as you're told and he moves with you. As you get into position, he takes his hand from your arm and reaches around for the buckle at your waist and gives it a tug, sending a shiver of excitement through you. 

You can feel him smile against your ear. 

"You're doing so well, doll. It's going to be amazing, I promise."

A squeak catches in your throat and you hope he doesn't notice. 

He shifts his hold on you and tightens the straps at your waist and shoulders, all the while keeping his mouth close to your ear as he explains once more exactly what's going to happen. And strangely, all your anxiety from before washes away and the only thing that flutters round your insides now is excited anticipation. 

When he's content that the equipment is adequately secured, he helps you put your goggles on. 

"When you're ready, love," he says, "just give Steve the thumbs up."

You nod and look to Steve. His hand rests on the handle to the hatch and he gives you an encouraging smile. When you give him the signal, his smile widens and he slides the door open. 

A blast of wind rushes in. The cold sting is bracing and you laugh out loud. Bucky echoes your laugh in your ear and helps you move forward to the edge. He stops you at the threshold, giving you a moment to take in the view.

You look out on the clear blue expanse, spotted here and there by fluffy white clouds, then look 10,000 feet down. It's thrilling and you're in awe. Of how beautiful it is and of yourself. 

Nobody back home would ever believe that you are about to do what you are about to do. Which is why you insisted on the video package. A photo just won't cut it. 

Though the wind thunders loudly in your ears, you just make out a shout of "good luck!" and turn to see Sam, the pilot and one-third owner of All Caps Skydiving, giving you a thumbs up. 

You return the gesture enthusiastically. Then Bucky shouts over the wind, "Ready?"

"Yes!" you cry eagerly.

"Here we go." He nudges you forward so that your toes hang just over the threshold into open air and your heart races wildly. "One! Two!" He leans you both slowly forward. "Th-"

"Wait, wait, wait!" You grab at his thigh in a frantic bid to stop him before you tumble out. 

Bucky stops abruptly, jerking backwards to keep you both safely inside the plane. 

"Are you okay?" He yells in alarm and reaches around to catch your chin. Gently turning your head to face him, he surveys you worriedly. 

"Are you okay?" He asks again. 

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry. I just-" you wonder if he would believe you if you told him that what you're about to say actually scares you more than the idea of jumping out of this perfectly good airplane, especially since you have to yell to be heard over the wind and you're sure Steve and Sam will hear-"I just wanted to ask, can I buy you a drink after this?" 

Bucky's eyes widen with surprise and then crinkle as he barks a laugh. 

He dips his face close to yours. 

"I've been hoping you would ask."

You smile widely then gesture with your head to the open hatch. 

"Great! What do you say we get this over with so we can get to the bar then?"

He laughs again. 

"After you, doll!"

My Masterlist

Bonus A/N: I just had to share this. When I was thinking of a title for this, I was looking up skydiving lingo for inspiration and apparently "Hot Load" is a legitimate parachuting term! 🤣 Thanks again for reading, loves!