#bucky 🥺

[unearthlydust]

Hi

Fave falcon and winter soldier scenes??

Hi

Oh, that's a good question! I have a few, but I will choose Bucky's nightmare, Ayo helping Bucky in Wakanda and the last conversation Bucky had with Yori. :)

[babey-lewis]

It's Bucky!

[sibylsleaves]

This is genuinely apropos of nothing but I am thinking about how annoying I find it when people insinuate that shipping is like, somehow diametrically at odds with being invested in a narrative for its own sake because like……I have rarely ever been interested in a ship that was not itself an expression of the narrative themes and character arcs. Investment in the narrative IS the very reason I care about a ship.

I feel like it makes no sense to pretend like these are entirely separate activities (although I understand for some people they are/can be) when to me MOST of the time, for most of the things I seriously ship, they are inextricable.

[anachilles]

gale would have this picture hidden away in his wallet btw ❤️

[thebisexual-disaster]

Why does this sound like a stucky in the 40s conversation?

[amarriageoftrueminds]

thing I've realised which alters how I see the howling commandos:

if the actors' ages reflect the characters’ ages, then all of the Howlies are considerably older than Steve.

The youngest Howlie (after Bucky & Steve) would be eight years older than Steve (that's Monty). The oldest is eighteen years older.

So they're a bunch of guys in their 30s and 40s who voluntarily put themselves under the command of a clueless 25 year old whippersnapper who's never even been in the field before. 

Or, another way to put it: 

Bucky was asked to pick a team to put under Steve's command and he chose a bunch of much older, seasoned soldiers, because clearly a bunch of kids in their twenties couldn't be trusted to cope with this idiot.

[becca-e-barnes]

I’ve been enjoying some premature ejaculation thoughts recently and it’s probably time to talk about them before they makes me even dizzier 🤤

Just the thought of slipping Bucky’s thick, leaking dick slowly inside you while you’re on top. The glide down on top of him is wonderful and when he’s as deep inside you as you can manage, you take a second to just enjoy feeling stuffed full.

You feel him throbbing inside you, his dick twitching and although he’s trying to keep it together, he’s determined not to let you know that.

After a couple of seconds, you raise your hips and let them fall again, working just a couple of inches towards the base of his cock.

You do the same again a few more times, barely establishing a rhythm before you feel Bucky’s grip on your hips tighten. “You have to slow down for me, sweetheart.”

The strain in his voice floods you with panic for a second and you stop moving.

“Does it hurt? We can try a different position if you like.” You cradle his face with one hand while holding yourself up with the other, staying as still as possible.

“It doesn’t hurt. Just might not last very long like this. Feels so good.” He’s a little embarrassed to admit it but he’s got nothing to worry about.

“Oh? You like this?” You roll your hips once more and enjoy the sharp intake of air it forces into your partner. “Is this too much for you?”

He nods sheepishly, aware of how much he wants this but of how much he wants to please you too.

“You gonna cum inside me already?” You tease, biting your bottom lip while you raise your hips up, letting him slide almost entirely out of you before sinking back down.

The moan it draws from him is beautiful but you’re not stopping there. “You are, aren’t you? You’re going to stuff my pretty pussy full of cum for me. Gonna make sure you have nothing left tonight.”

“Fuck, fuck.” He groans, his hands gripping your waist, pressing you down so he can finish as deep inside you as he can. His face is scrunched in pleasure while his hot cum shoots in thick ropes against the walls of your eager pussy.

There’s something so satisfying in the knowledge that it took no time at all for him to finish and if the rest of the evening is like this, it’ll be a whole lot more fun than you imagined.

[riricitaa]

probably the first time someone thanked him in over 7 decades 🥺🥺❤

[timidpumpkin]

Can you do a stucky little reader? She wakes up sick ( flu symptoms) and they take care of her. Angst and fluff with cute nicknames. 🥺🥺❤️❤️

You had me at angst…and fluff…and cute nicknames…okay you had me at the whole thing🙈🙈💞💞heheh i hope you like it!! I set it in little light universe🫶🫶❤️💙❤️💙

(pictures are not my own)

More Than Anything (Stucky x reader)

Pairing: Dark!Stucky x f!reader

Warnings/tags: Dark!Stucky, Daddy!Stucky, Female reader, Implied forced age regression, Sick reader, Meanie bucky, Implied reader has small hands in comparison because Stucky is gigantic (fact), Angst, Fluff, Comfort. Reader baby-talks as well, Lots o' cute nicknames.

Word count: 4.2k

It hurts.

“Mornin’ Doll,” Bucky says after flipping your lights on. The illumination now burning your vision makes you pull the covers over your head as you flip over, hiding from the bright room. You hear him making his way to your bedside. The mattress beneath dips you sideways a bit as he sits beside your dormant form. 

“Come on now, time to get up.” he pulls lightly at the duvet covering you. He can tell you’re gripping it with all you can. Though he could easily unveil you, he decides against it, knowing that ripping the blanket from your delicately curled-up fingers might hurt them. Instead, he leans his body over yours, one hand placed on the other side of your hip as he hovers above you. He dips his head close to where yours is concealed by the warm blanket. “Don’t make me carry you down there,” he whispers teasingly, figuring it’s likely what you’re hoping for. 

Instead, you only groan in response, mumbling something about getting a little more sleep. It wasn’t an uncommon request from you, and Bucky knew how much babies needed their sleep. Usually, he would let it slide, loving how adorable you look in dreamland, but he can’t. Not this time. 

It was almost noon. He peers around your room. It’s not the cleanest, but it looks pristine compared to the current state of your playroom. He had asked you yesterday to clean it, noticing the myriad of toys and their respective accessories scattered across the carpeted floor.

You, preoccupied with dressing your doll so she could ‘go on vacation,’ promised him you’d do it after dinner. Bucky apprehensively agreed, and even let you fall through on your assigned chore after you quickly fell asleep on the couch, much before your usual bedtime. Figuring you played your little heart out, he carried you upstairs and told himself to remind you in the morning.

Having already slept almost twelve hours, he knows if he lets your slumber last any longer, you’ll never sleep tonight. He sighs.

“I know you want more babygirl, but Dada already made breakfast and lunch. You need to come eat,” he waits a few moments for you to respond, but you don’t let out a sound or groan. “I'm serious, Doll, time to get up,” he states, standing up, hoping it’ll prompt you to follow. You peel your sheets back to look at him.

“Daddy…” you whine, unsure of what you're asking for. All you knew is that it hurt. Everything. It wasn’t just that the lights were too bright. It wasn't just that you were sleepy. Your whole body felt…bad. Just bad. You couldn’t exactly explain it, but you did know that moving didn’t seem like it would help. 

Bucky only looks at you, unsatisfied. You try sitting up, which you find is more difficult than it should have been. Once you’re upright, you feel pressure in your head. Your cheeks and forehead feel as if there's unwanted gunk smooshed inside. It makes you want to lie back down immediately. 

“m’ tired daddy,” you say groggily. 

“That’s ‘cause you slept so much,” Bucky knew messing with your established sleep pattern too much would likely make you feel more cranky than it seemed you already were. So, as much as he knew you didn’t want to, he believed it would be for the best to make you get up.

As you start to get out of bed, it feels as though the air is made of thick jello with every movement you make.

“Daddyyy…ughhhh” you groan unhappily at him, and kick at your sheets frustrated that you’re being forced to move.

Bucky’s eyes narrow at your agitated action, never liking that kind of behavior from you.

“Don’t be that way, Doll. it’s too early for that,” he warns.

“Mmm,” you groan again. “noo, don’t wanna, wanna sleep!” you say crankily, flopping back down on the bed again with your arms crossed to prove your point. That point being: you. did. not. want. to. move.

Bucky rolls his eyes, and takes a deep breath, debating internally on how to approach your grouchiness. He decides, only since it’s so early—for you—that he’ll go easy on you, hoping this attitude will fade as you wake up. 

“No more sleep, but,” he leans down closer to you, “if you promise to be a good girl all day, Daddy will carry you down there.” he offers as a compromise.

Truthfully, you’d still rather lay in bed, but you knew you had to do what Daddy asked. More so, you didn’t want him to be upset with you, so you nod your head in agreement. 

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Okay daddy, what?” he questions.

“I-i’ll be good,” you say, having a hard time remembering what he asked. He slides his hands under you and begins to pick you up. Once you’re in his hold, you quickly let your head fall to his shoulder, wishing you could now sleep there instead.

“And you’ll eat your breakfast this morning?” he asks into your heavy head. You nod into his neck and mumble a ‘yes daddy’ assentingly.

Once he places you in your chair downstairs, Steve greets you with a bright smile, and a kiss to your forehead after setting down your food. When he does, he notices how hot your skin feels against his.

“You feel warm angel, you feel okay, babygirl?” he asks, gently checking the temperature of your cheeks with the back of his hand.  

“Oh, she just got up, she’s probably still warm from sleep,” Bucky answers before you get the chance to speak. “Somebody really didn’t want to get up this morning,” he pokes. 

“Ohh,” Steve coos, “you still sleepy, babygirl?” he asks. You shake your head weakly, eyes drifting closed. You think about telling him how bad you feel, but you don’t really have the energy to try to explain it.

Instead, you decide to focus on eating, hoping the sooner you finish, the quicker you can return to resting. However, the very first swallow of your otherwise pleasant meal scratches at your throat. You still try to get some down, thinking the pain will go away if you keep trying. When it becomes evident that won't be the case, you poke at your plate and begin to speak up.

“Daddy, m’done,” you push your plate away, “my thro-” 

“Uh-uh, a few more bites,” Bucky pushes the plate back in front of you, knowing you’ll never feel more awake with an empty stomach. “And after you finish, you can go clean your playroom,” You look at him puzzled.

“But-”

“No buts. I already asked you to do it yesterday,” he explains, not looking up from whatever he happened to be reading at the table with you. Your face twists in confusion for a few moments before you remember how tired you felt last night. Truthfully, the fatigue was all your body could focus on, making you completely forget about the room.

“But daddy-”

“What did I just say?” he looks up at you.

“I’m tired!” you snap at him, voice raised high and whiney as you bemoan at him. You cross your arms and huff grumpily back into the chair.

“I don’t care if you’re tired. Do what Daddy says, or you can say goodbye to your playroom for the next week” he threatens. Not wanting to get out of bed was one thing, but directly disobeying him with that attitude was another. 

Still, you only groan angrily in response, not feeling like you could do anything right now. 

“Ugh!” you flop your head down on the table dramatically, hiding between your arms. Bucky lets your stew there for a moment before speaking up.

“Are you gonna finish eating or not?” He asks eventually, eerily calm. You remain silent, unsure of what to say. “Fine, you can go clean your room now,” You look up to him at that, suddenly confused and disoriented. Surely your daddy should know how bad you feel. 

“But Daddy! I don't wanna now! I don't feel g-”

“Did I ask if you wanted to? I don’t care if you don't feel like it. Now. Or no playroom for a month.” your jaw drops, your muddled brain beyond baffled on why he’s being so harsh. Still, you know he means it. It wasn’t outside his usual punishment by any means. You almost think you should consider yourself lucky he hasn’t bent you over his knee already with how you’re fighting him.

Feeling defeated, you drag your body out of your chair. Before you can go, he grabs your arm with a warning.

“and quit with the attitude.” 

“Yes, Daddy” you squeak lamentably, noticing how your throat hurts as you speak.

You drag your feet upstairs, physically resisting your legs from stomping as you go. Anger and confusion mix together in you as you think about what he said. You didn’t want to be grounded from your playroom. So many of your favorite things were in there. And, again, more importantly, you didn't want to make daddy upset with you. You never liked it when he was. You always tried so hard to be a good girl for them. But right now, it was so hard. In actuality, what you wanted more than anything was for him to cuddle with you. You felt Daddy and Dada could always make you feel better. No matter what, you were convinced your Daddies loving embrace could cure you from any ailment. 

Maybe, you think, if you just cleaned your room like a good girl, you could ask to cuddle with him after. 

You try your hardest to ignore the pain that ignites at every move you make, but truthfully, you're already abnormally out of breath just from your quick walk up the stairs. The room feels uncomfortably chilly against your skin. 

After you get a small portion of the floor cleared, you decide to take a little break. You practically collapse beneath yourself, curling underneath the cozy play tent filled with askew fluffy pillows and dismayed blankets. You shut your eyes and tell yourself you’ll only rest for a few minutes…

“Angel?” Steve's voice echoes back at him from the loft balcony where you should easily be able to pick up his voice. He can’t hear you moving around. “Are you sure she’s in there?” he asks Bucky.

“She better. It’s where I told her to be.” he retorts disdainfully, hoping you're not again disobeying him by being somewhere else. 

Steve stills himself, and listens closely, he can tell you’re there, but your breathing doesn’t sound normal. 

Concerned, he makes his way upstairs. Bucky follows, recognizing Steve’s ‘something’s wrong’ face. 

Steve panics for a brief moment when he enters the empty but disarrayed room. Then he spots you. Your delicate form hidden amongst haphazardly arranged fabrics. He approaches you slowly, not wanting to startle you. 

He kneels down, overshadowing you as he gently caresses your cheek to wake you. 

“Babygirl?” he calls softly. Puffs of hot air escape your mouth. Labored breathing is all he can hear. All they can both hear. 

“Babygirl,” he calls again, shaking you slightly. To his relief, your eyes slowly open. They look sunken, tired, and devoid of their usual playful sparkle. 

“Dada…?” you question quietly. “m’cold” your murmur softly, eyes begging to be closed again. 

You’re not cold though. Not to Steve. You feel a million degrees too hot under his touch. 

“Babygirl…” he says for the third time, this time preparing to move you. “Dada’s gonna pick you up okay?” he explains, remaining calm so as to not worry you. “We're gonna go downstairs,” you feel limp in his arms, no different than if you were deep in sleep. But you are certainly awake, even if barely. He mumbles something to Bucky you don't make out, but his tone alone tells you he’s not happy.

Once you’re downstairs, he sets you on the kitchen counter. You don’t let go of him though, your body weight is leaned almost fully onto his.

“Can you sit up for me, babygirl?” he asks encouragingly, but gently. “Daddy and I are gonna check you out okay?” you groan a bit, still just feeling tired. 

“Here,” Bucky speaks up softly, snaking his arms around you, and taking Steve’s place in front of you. As you’re shifted from one body’s hold to another, it wakens you a bit. You almost go back to leaning fully onto his chest when you realize who’s holding you.

“Daddy?” you shift back a little to look up at him. One hand of his is resting at your hip, the other helping support the rest of your body.

“Hey, babydoll…” he says softly, voice drifting, and stomach sinking as he sees how sick you look.

He almost wishes he could somehow shut his hearing out. Your heartbeat is quicker than usual. He knew it better than his own. How it sounded while you slept, when you’d play, how it picks up when you laugh, giggling for breath and telling him ‘daddy, stop it tickles’ with the brightest grin lighting up your face. Now…now he can’t stand it. It’s thumping too fast. Faster than it should be for when his little girl hasn’t moved an inch herself. 

Why didn’t he notice it before? He thinks back to how heavily you held onto him when he carried you this morning. How quickly he was to interrupt you. He realizes you probably tried to tell him. And he didn’t listen. Even worse, he made you clean. Guilt seeps deep into his guts as he remembers how funny your voice sounded today. 

“Daddy,” you break him from his thoughts, he sees tears beginning to form in your doleful eyes. “Daddy m’sorry,” you breathe in sharply, beginning to cry “m’sorry didn't f-finish-i just-i gots so tireds daddy I’m-I'm sorry,” you sob pathetically, knowing you’ve disappointed him. 

Bucky’s face falls. 

All you had to do was one simple thing, and you couldn't even do that right. You weren’t being a good girl by disobeying him like that. Even if you felt bad, you feel you should have tried harder.

“Doll, no-” you cry sorries to him more, your own hands reaching to cover your shameful face. He catches them before you do, gently taking them into his and guiding them around his neck for you so you can be more level with his gaze. “Babydoll, look at daddy,” He pulls you, hands drawing you closer so he’s flush with you in between your legs. Needing to feel your skin, his right hand tenderly guides your face to look at him. “I’m not upset with you. Daddy’s not upset with you,” he reassures, silently pleading for you not to cry. 

“But-but-I didn’t cleans-I-I just-I-I not good girl,” you sob miserably at the admission, never wanting to be bad for him.

“My little girl, my sweet girl, no, please no” he assures, hating how skewed shut your eyes are. “That’s not true, Doll, it’s just not. Daddy…” he carefully wipes at the wet tears on your cheek, “Daddy should have known.” he admits shamefully. You finally blink your eyes open at him, a timidly unsure expression written on your face. “I should have known. You...you tried to tell daddy huh?” he takes one of your hands and gives it soft kisses. 

“N-n’your not mad at me?” you sniffle as your cries begin to slow down.

“No, Doll, never.” he couldn’t be, never for something like this. His mouth opens again, he wants to tell you how sorry he is. He’s the one who should be, but he only finds his own tongue twisted, unsure of how to fully express his remorse. Before he has time to puzzle the words together, Steve interrupts, thermometer in hand.

“Open wide, babygirl,” you do as he says. “tongue up,” he mimics the motion for you. The cold metal feels uncomfortable in your mouth. They must know this as Bucky squeezes your hand soothingly, and Steve tells you ‘just a little longer’ with a sympathetic gaze as he holds your jaw with the hand that’s not keeping the thermometer in place. 

When it beeps, Steve removes it and frowns when he reads the displayed numbers. 

“Can you tell us what hurts, princess?” Steve asks. You point your hand towards your neck. “Your throat?” he confirms, and you nod your head. “What else babygirl?” you then squeeze your eyes together, remembering how squished your brain feels.

“Head,” you mumble quietly, before crossing and rubbing your arms together in discomfort. “Everything.”

“Your body hurts? Feels sore?” He asks. You nod your head weakly at him, closing your eyes and wishing you could be laying down right now. Even just sitting somewhat upright felt hard at the moment. 

“Okay babygirl, why don’t you let Daddy take you to the bedroom,” Steve suggests. “I’ll be there in just a minute.” he smiles at you comfortingly, before placing a kiss on your forehead with his hand cradling the back of your head. 

“m’I sick?” you ask Bucky as he carries you to their room.

“Yeah, but it’s okay, Dada and I will help you feel better,” he carefully sets you on their large bed. 

It's soft. Yours is soft too, but Daddies always felt so much softer for some reason. Maybe it’s because you got to sleep next to your favorite people. He arranges the pillows and blankets around you to make you more comfortable, then slides next to you. You rest your head on his chest, almost instantly falling asleep again. 

Some time passes, particularly how much time is beyond you. All you knew in this moment, is how comfy Daddy felt.

After some time, Steve’s voice brings you back to reality. He instructs you to sit more upright so he can give you medicine. 

The odd color liquid he brings toward you makes you cringe. You can tell just from looks how bitter and unpleasant it will taste. You recoil into bucky, small hands gripping at the buttons of his shirt as you whine.

“Daddyyy…” you tug on Bucky's shirt more, trying to force your head into his flannel to hide from Steve and his icky medicine, practically begging Bucky to not make Steve give it to you.

“Doll,” Bucky chuckles a bit at your attempt to hide inside his outer shirt. He still holds you close, hands supporting you on your bottom as you have now completely crawled on top of him.

“Angel…you know I can still see you…right?” Steve teases.

“No you can’ts…m’not here” you proclaim, muffled into Bucky’s chest.

“The sooner you take it, the sooner it will be over, come on princess.” Steve encourages. You’re still not convinced and instead mumble out one word: ��pill.’

For a second, Steve isn’t sure if he understood you correctly before his lips tighten with a displeased look on his face. 

You’ve had this conversation before. He thought surely by now you understood it, but he figured since you’re sick, it might be hard for your little head to remember. 

“Sweet girl, babies can’t take pills, you know that.” Steve explains patiently. You did know that. It was early on when Steve refused to let you take any medication you needed through a pill. It didn't matter what you needed, he was always able to find a way to get a liquid version of it from Uncle Bruce. Or, as you like to think, a much yuckier version of it. 

Still, you groan in disagreement, not wanting to taste something that bad, let alone when your throat hurt as much as it did. 

“Doll,” Bucky speaks up. “I know you don’t want to, but it’ll make you feel so much better.”

You shake your head against his chest, disagreeing with both of your daddies now. 

“it’s yucky dough daddy,” you whine.

“I know it’s yucky, babydoll,” Bucky pats at your back comfortingly while he thinks. He knows how hard this is for you, especially when you feel so bad. “Hey,” he peels you back from him a bit, unburying you from his shirt as he has an idea. “Look,”  he instructs, “Here,” he takes the small cap of medicine from Steve’s hands and–to your horror–throws it back in his mouth. You look at him in horror as the icky liquid disappears from the cap into Bucky's mouth. You stare at him wildly. 

Daddy’s crazy, you think.

“There. See? Daddy took it. It’s not so bad.” Bucky says nonchalantly in an attempt to convenience you. He hands the empty cap back to Steve so he can refill it. Steve shares your look of bewilderment, before you can't help but break out a smile at his action.  

“Daddy,” you giggle at him.

“What?” He fakes surprise. “Daddy took it, so you can too.” he assures happily, taking the now filled-again cap from Steve. Still, you recoil from it a bit. 

“Yeah…” you look between him and the medicine suspiciously. “but daddy also drinks other yucky stuffs,” you defend, referring to the strong-smelling caramel-colored stuff he likes to drink sometimes. Daddy never lets you have that. 

Bucky chuckles a bit when he realizes what you meant. 

“Okay, true…and little baby definitely can’t have that stuff…” he says pointedly. “but this,” he gestures the cap towards you. “you have to take.” You look between him and Steve warily. 

“Please angel, I know you can do it. Do it for Daddy and Dada princess,” Steve encourages. You agree this time, mentally pepping yourself up and telling yourself if daddy could do it, so could you. 

You scrunch your eyes closed as Bucky brings it closer to your lips. You feel Steve’s hands reach down to hold your face. One hand holding your jaw up firmly, with the other around the back of your head. This way, you aren't able to move should you change your mind. Steve knew you’d be a good girl and take it, but he always had to be sure just in case–not unlike what has happened before–you decide to spit it out.

When it hits your tongue, it’s just as yucky as you had imagined. Maybe even worse. Instinctively, your face contorts in displeasure as you squirm around from the gross sensation. 

Steve and Bucky hold you firmly in place the whole time and instruct you to swallow. 

Once you do, Steve asks you to open your mouth for him, just to make sure you really swallowed it all.

“Good girl, my brave little girl. I knew you could do it.” Steve praises you. “Dada’s so proud of you.” he beams at you, making you smile. 

“Daddy proud too?” you ask shyly to Bucky.

“Super proud doll. The proudest of them all.” he winks at you, making you giggle a little bit, but it tickles your throat, causing you to start having a coughing fit. 

Bucky brings a sippy on their nightstand to your lips and lets you drink some cold water. It helps calm your throat. 

Steve asks if there’s anything else you want right now. You ask for some juice in your favorite sippy, and he lets you know he’ll bring it after he’s done making some soup for you.

Bucky gets out of the bed, making you confused. You promptly grab at his hands. 

“Where going?” you look up to him, eyes big and sad. 

“I was just gonna go help Dada, why don’t you get some rest, Doll?” He says, knowing it’s what you need most right now. To his surprise though, you don’t let go.

“Nooo,” you say, tugging feebly at his hands. “Stay…wanna…can…cuddle daddy?” you ask bashfully, suddenly feeling shy. 

Bucky’s eyes turn soft. Soft. Just like his little girl. Soft. Like how your voice always sounded. Soft. Something, an emotion, a feeling, a sensation, that only you made him experience. 

Even after he made you clean your playroom, even after he snapped at you and didn’t listen, you still asked in your softest voice, doleful eyes, and small grabby hands if he would cuddle with you. Sometimes–he’s not sure what he did to deserve you. 

“Of course, princess,” he climbs back into the bed with you and you grin happily as you curl yourself around him just like before. He suggests again that you to get some rest, but that too comes with protest. 

“Wanna watch ‘toons wif Daddy…can we’s?” you ask. Bucky smiles to himself and kisses your head. Even though he knows you’ll likely fall fast asleep no more than five minutes into it, there’s nothing more he’d like more than watch shows with his little girl

He turns on your favorite show and makes sure you’re perfectly comfortable, tucked around him and under blankets. 

“Doll?” he whispers softly after a few minutes. To his surprise, you’re still awake. You mumble a questioning ‘hmm?’ he takes a few seconds to respond, trying to gather the words correctly for you. He breathes in. 

“I’m sorry Daddy didn’t listen earlier,” he admits, lips ghosting the top of your head, before placing a kiss there. “I should have listened.”

“It’s okies Daddy,” you hum sleepily into his chest. It wasn’t okay. He knew that. But you—you and your never-ending soft and kind heart—forgave him. And that’s all that mattered to him. He truly was more than lucky to have a little girl like you.

“I love you Daddy,” you squeeze him softly, voice quiet. And even though he can’t see you, he knows you're smiling when you say it. 

“I love you, Doll.” more than anything.

[eccentricallygothic]

Shit talking Daddy!Bucky in your native language/ dialect when you have a disagreement/ when he isn't giving into some brat demand of yours.

Only, he replies perfectly with native-like fluency, the most smug expression on his handsome face because you are looking at him utterly dumbfounded.

And then he proceeds to absolutely roast your poor ass with the worst spanking known to man before giving you corner time.

No doubt.

You can never outsmart your mysterious Daddy.

[writeyourdarlings]

they're cheesy like that💗

[alienoresimagines]

Bucky : There are 20 letters in the alphabet, right?

Buck : Nope, there's 26.

Bucky : Ah, I must have forgotten U, R, A, Q, T.

Buck : That's cute, but you're still missing one.

Bucky : You'll get the D later ;)

[lefthandarm-man]

Steve Rogers // Captain America Captain America: The WInter Soldier (2014)

the way he looks at bucky (part 1, part 2, part 3)

(bucky vers.)

[haleyhunwritess]

hiiii if requests are open can u write one where she has bad period cramps and its seb or bucky taking care of her with like lots of fluff and maybe he teases her for crying at a commercial because shes feeling hormonal cuz of her period but it just ends with a lot of fluff💕

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝

pairing: bucky x reader

warning: period cramps, FLUFFFF

a/n: i woke up with the worst cramps possible and all i wanted was to cuddle with someone but i'm on campus now trying to get some work done :( i wanna post some more period comfort fics, maybe today or tomorrow! i have an old period comfort fic request from @chrisevansdaughter that i'm working on that i can hopefully post soon 💗

"Do you think it's bleeding? It feels like it's bleeding." Bucky groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

"Oh please, you're fine." You mumbled from the couch, clutching your lower abdomen while holding your breath as your cramps started to get worse.

This morning you'd woken up to the most painful cramps you've ever experienced. You assumed that they were pre-period cramps, and tried to go back to sleep. However, a few minutes later, you felt Bucky's hand on your shoulder gently shaking you awake. You mumbled five more minutes, before trying to go back to sleep.

"Love, wake up," he whispered, glancing down at the dark stain on the bed, "You're bleeding, doll."

Suddenly awake, you quickly opened your eyes and turned to look down at the crimson stain on the bed. Groaning loudly, you put your head in your hands. You normally got your period on time, though sometimes it could be a day or two late. It was rarely ever early. You weren't supposed to get your period for another 4 days, and yet here it was. You felt embarrassed, but fortunately that feeling didn't last long as your body started to cramp up again. You whimpered loudly, while clutching your stomach and struggling to breathe.

You struggled to sit up, as the cramps were somehow starting to get even worse. Bucky quickly put one arm behind your back, and held your hand in his, to help you sit up. You quietly thanked him before turning your gaze back down to the stain, and cursing silently, "I'm so sorry, bubba, I wasn't supposed to get my period yet. I didn't mean to ruin your sheets."

"Love, I'm not mad at you. You have nothing to be sorry about, it's okay. I'm sorry I had to wake you up but we've gotta get you cleaned up." Bucky kissed your forehead, before getting up and leaving the room.

He came back a few minutes later with some towels, a water bottle, and some ibuprofen. He handed you the ibuprofen first, which you gladly took before washing it down with some water. Then he helped you get up carefully, holding you gently in his arms as he lead you over to the bathroom. He put the towels down on the counter, then walked over to the shower to turn on the hot water.

"Alright, doll. You take as long as you need in there, okay? If you need anything, just shout and I'll come running. I'm just gonna go clean up in the room, okay?" Before you could even protest, he left the bathroom to take the sheets to the laundry.

You stepped out of the shower after a while, already starting to feel a bit better. You noticed Bucky had left a pair of his sweatpants and his favourite hoodie on the counter next to the towels. There was also a bag of supplies on the ground, with different feminine hygiene products, a heating pad, some painkillers you were definitely going to need later, and some other essentials. After drying yourself off with the towel, you got dressed quickly and decided to go check on Bucky.

You found him downstairs in the kitchen, pouring hot water into a cup. Walking over to him, you noticed a familiar sweet smell coming from the kitchen. That's when you noticed a fresh batch of his painfully-delicious pancakes sitting on the counter. You put your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you. He turned around, and pulled you into his arms gently, being careful not to hug you too tight in case you still have cramps.

You helped him carry the pancakes and the tea over to the living room. You sat down in front of the TV and started flipping through the channels. Bucky picked up your fork, and started feeding you small bites as you settled on what show to watch. Eventually, breakfast was over and you were cuddled up on the couch watching titanic. You've only seen the movie once and you found the ending sad, but you never cry at the ending. Until today. It seemed like your body was determined to make you miserable today as you wiped the tears that were streaming down your face at a fast pace. You hoped Bucky wouldn't notice that you were crying, especially just because of a movie. You glanced over at him and noticed he was straight at you, and trying to stifle a laugh. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't contain his laughter anymore. He got up from the couch, still laughing, as you glared him.

"Screw you, Barnes, it's not funny!" You picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it at him, but it only made him laugh harder.

"I'm sorry, love, I couldn't help it!" He chuckled as he picked up the pillow and threw it back on the couch next to you. "I didn't think you were one to cry at movies like that. It wasn't like one glistening tear either, doll, you were nearly sobbing. Don't get me wrong though, it was adorable!"

"You jerk!" You picked up the pillow again and threw it at him but it missed him once again. As he bent over to pick the pillow back up, you picked up the remote this time, and launched it at him. Unfortunately, this time it actually hit him.

"Ow, what the-" He got up, rubbing the back of his head, "That actually hurt, doll, what was that?"

"The remote" You mumbled, trying not to laugh.

He glared at you before bending down to pick up the pillow and throw it back at you. Although he didn't mean to, he threw it pretty hard and it hit your stomach, right as the cramps decided to make a comeback. He quickly apologized and walked over to you to make sure you weren't hurt too bad.

"Just go get me the pain-killers, doofus." You mumbled, laying down sideways, clutching your lower abdomen.

He got up and made his way to the kitchen, still rubbing the spot at the back of his head, the one where you threw the remote at.

"Do you think it's bleeding? It feels like it's bleeding." Bucky groaned, as he continued to rub the back of his head, checking for any blood.

"Oh please, you're fine." You mumbled from the couch, clutching your lower abdomen while holding your breath as your cramps started to get worse.

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[rosiesriiveters]

Keep thinking of Buck and Bucky's perception of Rosie through their eyes. When they meet him, Rosie's a great pilot, has been training gunners for ages and knows his way around a plane well - but has yet to see any combat. He's that wide-eyed kind of hopeful that he can make a difference.

When they meet him again by the end of the series, Rosie's gone on to fly 52 missions. He's well and truly past his first tour, and well into his second. The rest of the 100th adore him and respect him as a leader; and Rosie adores them all right back.

Despite all of that, Rosie still seems like the same person - undemonstrative, and a little more heaviness to his shoulders perhaps, but that wide-eyed hope that I can make a difference hasn't faded.

[jamestasha]

Natasha protecting an orphaned boy in Secret Avengers (2010) (Issues #24, #25, #29, #31 , #36 and #37)