#caring Bucky

[aikaterini-drag]

Smiles and Smooches

Summary: You get drunk and demand kisses and hugs from your boyfriend. He is more than happy to please you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader (no mention of y/n)

Warnings: no smut, takes place during tfatws, boyfriend Bucky, emotional security, fluff, kisses.

The night carried a pleasant breeze, the stars twinkling. You and Bucky sat close together under the dimmed light of a cozy booth at your favorite bar. The hum of laughter and clinking glasses surrounded you. And tonight, you were a little tipsier than usual. You had consumed two of your favorite cocktails— despite your boyfriend’s advice to take it slow. Bucky, unlike you, couldn't get drunk no matter how hard he tried, thanks to his super soldier genes. He had finished the last sips of your drink, attempting to prevent you from feeling sick later on.

Thankfully, you were feeling fine. Only slightly drunk and blissfully happy inside.

With flushed cheeks and a captivating smile, you shifted on your chair and leaned toward him.

"You know, babe," you slurred slightly, "you're like... seriously the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Bucky couldn't help but half-laugh. “I told you, you shouldn’t have ordered that second drink, sweets. You’re drunk.”

“I’m fine.” You hiccuped and hugged his arm. “It’s not my fault you’re superman.”

“Super-soldier,” he corrected with another half laugh.

“Tsk… is the same. You’re my strong, virile man. And I love you!”

He grinned and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "And you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

You beamed at him, your fingers tracing patterns on his bionic hand. "No, I love you more! Seriously, you're, like, super super cute. I mean, like, cuter than, like, a basket of puppies."

He chuckled at your comparison. “What an adorable declaration of love.”

“You’re adorable.” Your breath ghosted over his lips. “My adorable James. My Bucky.”

He smiled and kissed across your forehead. “Well, that’s debatable. I have the most adorable girl in the world right here with me."

Your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink. "Can I have a hug? Please? You give the best hugs."

Who was he to deny you? He eagerly wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close. You melted into his embrace, your head resting on his chest, your fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt. You popped a button and he chuckled and gripped your hands gently.

“No funny business, sweets.”

You pouted. “Want to kiss you. Everywhere.”

He kneaded your hair. “We’re in a bar full of people.”

“Then let’s go home,” you said as your mouth trailed a path of warmth along his unshaven jawline.

“I’m not letting you drink ever again. You get turned into a little kiss monster.”

You giggled. “Your kiss monster.”

“Mine. Always.” He hummed, his voice a warm murmur.

“Take me home, sarge.”

“Home it is, my sweet.”

After taking care of the bill, he held you up, his arms wounding around you to steady you. You still felt a little tipsy but you were also so happy and warm, holding him close, inhaling his fresh masculine scent. Holding you protectively against him, he led the way to the apartment you shared.

As they walked, he glanced at you. “Why did you drink so much, sweets? You dislike it.”

You sighed and clutched his arm. “I’m just sad you’re going on another mission. I don’t want you to be hurt. I meant to have one drink but… I lost control a bit, I guess.”

Bucky stopped and cupped your flushed face. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. You know I’ve got this.”

“So what if you’re good at it? Does that mean you have to risk your life without concerns?” Tears welled up in your eyes. “What if something happens to you?”

Exhaling, he drew you into a tight embrace. “I’ll be careful, I promise. You know I’ll always come back to you.”

You nestled into his arms, suppressing a sob. “I just hate seeing you go into danger again.”

“I know, sweetheart. But it’s what I do. And I do it to protect people like you, people I care about,” he said, pressing gentle kisses on your moist cheeks. “Don’t cry. I’ll be counting the minutes until I can come back to you.”

“Promise?” You gazed up at him, searching his ocean eyes for reassurance.

“I promise.”

“My Bucky,” you said, caressing his face. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

He held you tighter, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Love you too, more than words can express, sweets.”

With his arms wrapped around you, you stayed there for a while, holding each other, kissing lazily. His lips brushed against yours repeatedly, his tongue coaxing your mouth apart and slipping inside. He consumed you, with his touches and his warmth, until there was nothing left but his warm gentle touches and the assurance that everything would be alright.

Follow for more content 🩵 Reblogs or any other kind of support are greatly appreciated. Hugs and kisses 🩷

[professor-pants]

Genre of character: submissive like a guard dog is submissive

[tojigasm]

Bucky in a relationship would be so domestically paternal that it'd be evil.

He's got so many years on you that it only makes sense that he sees you as his baby.

You, Steve, and Sam are the only things he has.

Two of which are capable of defending themselves and proving their means in doing so.

It only makes sense that he feels a deep inherent need to protect and baby you.

It brings him a sense of comfort and routine to cut your steak for you at dinner or tie your shoes before leaving your shared apartment.

He finds semblance in brushing your hair or readjusting your skirt.

Sometimes, he just needs to make sure you're there with him mentally too –so he keeps at hand at the dip of your back as he guides you through a crowd or as you both cross a parking lot or street.

And he doesn't mean to infantilize you or deem you physically unable to do these things yourself –he just loves you and wants to take care of you.

"Can do it myself," you grumble as he double knots the laces of your hightops.

Bucky nods, metal hand holding your knee as he pushes himself up to his feet.

"I know. But let me do it for you, sweetheart."

And you let him, because you know the two of you need it in your own way.

[chappellsroans]

THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER (2021) I 1.04

[whtactch-dawnie]

EVERYONE SHUT UP AND CONSIDER: the aftermath of brave new world.

sam is tired. so, so tired. the adrenaline that’s kept him running far longer than it should’ve is finally wearing thin and he makes it to his and bucky’s apartment and all but collapses in his fiancé’s arms. bucky coos at him, he talks sweet and quiet. he scolds him a little for not properly dealing with those stab wounds, but it’s okay.

“it’ll be okay, sammy.”

bucky stitching him up, bandaging him. despite every feeble protest, he’s able to get sam to lay down finally and drink some water and take some pain meds. he makes him a sandwich that sam is able to eat about half of. he hates being coddled most of the time, but right now he’s in a bit too much pain to really care. instead, sam focuses on telling bucky he’s full of shit and that the serum would’ve definitely came in handy. he’s kind of mumbling, and his words come out a bit out of order and bucky just gives a roll of his eyes because someday, sam’ll get it. he’ll see himself the way bucky sees him, and he’ll get it.

and once bucky’s pretty sure he’s stable, or stable enough, he’ll crawl into bed beside him. sam’s already asleep and bucky will drive him to the hospital tomorrow for a proper examination, but right now he deserves a good night’s sleep, safe and sound in his own bed. their bed. the bed that took them both a long time to get used to, but when they’re wrapped in one another’s arms, it’s a bit more bearable.

[ciarmor]

More Bucky

[saryasy]

for @livingincolorsagain happy birthday, my love - insp

[ghoststillhaunting]

My current favorite hobby is to make my own incorrect marvel quotes cause I think I'm so fucking funny

Here are some of my favorites :)

~

After a rough mission

Steve: whew! well that was crazy! I definitely need a smoke after that. Anyone got a cigarette I can bum off them?

Sam: uh Steve? aren't you asthmatic?

Steve: I mean I was? but what does that matter?

Bruce: cause cigarettes have been known to cause asthma...

Steve, who was prescribed cigarettes specifically to TREAT his asthma: What

~

Tony: Hey Steve. what'cha reading there?

Steve: Oh! it's this short horror story called I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream. It's about this AI that gains consciousness and sets out to destroy humanity.

Natasha: sounds right up your ally Tony

Tony: That's not funny 😐

~

Tony: Now I do believe that capitalism can work-

Steve, who literally grew up during the Great Depression: I don't. It has done nothing but fuck us over and is the disease at the core of America.

Interviewer, taking notes: "Captain America is a communist" got it.

~

Tony: hey kid! what're your plans for Christmas?

Peter: Uh me and Aunt May don't really celebrate for Christmas

Tony: WHAT!? WHO WOULD EVER DEPRIVE A CHILD OF THE SWEET JOYS AND WONDERS OF CHRISTMAS???

Peter: Mr. Stark...I'm Jewish.

Tony:...oh

~

Steve: Hey Peter! Hey Ned!

Ned: omg Captain America knows my name!

Peter: Ned, you have dinner with us. Every Friday. Of course he knows your name.

Ned:...I know but it's still CRAZY

~

Tony: Peter. You must learn the consequences of your actions therefore I have no choice but to punish you. You aren't allowed in the labs for a month.

Peter: OH SO YOU WANT ME TO KILL MYSELF

Tony: PETER

Peter: NO NO I SEE HOW IT IS YOU HATE ME AND WANT ME DEAD

Tony: PETER YOU RECREATED A LIGHTSABER AND SLICED THE COUCH INTO TWENTY PIECES

Peter: GOD I CAN'T DO ANYTHING IN THIS FUCKING HOUSE

~

Tony: Kid WHY and HOW do you know how to use a gun???

Peter:...I play a lot of call of duty?

Tony: this is the closest i have ever been to wanting to punt a child

~

Steve: Jesus Tony stop being such a cunt!

Tony: 😦

Peter: ATE

~

Bucky: Peter...do you think i'm gay?

Peter:....you are wearing a rupaul muscle tee

Bucky:...you didn't answer my question :(

~

Interviewer: What are your thoughts on immigration?

Steve: my parents were immigrants...what do you think my thoughts are?

[bubbarnes]

“... you okay?”.

[wingedcorgi]

channelling my inner 2014 tumblrina is going well

[anura-artist]

uhhhhhhhhh here's the winter soldier discovering elmo. goodbye

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Handle With Care 1

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

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

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your work blurs the lines between professional and personal.

Note: I'm on a Bucky kick and can't stop myself.

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

The caller ID flashing on your dashboard display makes you groan. What the hell is Sam calling for? He should be patiently waiting at the venue.

You know even before you answer what the issue is. It's the same as it always is. It can never be about anyone but him.

"Wilson," you answer matter-of-factly, "I know I'm not late."

"Never are," he confirms. "It's not you."

"Oh, I know," you put your blinker on and check the traffic behind you, "you're really going to make me pull a U-ey."

"I know, I'm sorry. Again."

"You know, I never had another job where I had to make sure my co-workers got their asses out of bed," you spin the wheel and your tires squeal on the tarmac.

"Co-workers... dang, I thought we were more than that." You can hear his pout through the phone.

"Me and you, maybe," you drone.

"Hey, he's been trying," he argues.

"Yeah, I know. You think I don't try, Wilson?"

"Look, I'll make it up to you."

"You say that a lot," you shake your head at the road.

"Look, I gotta go. It's my big day," he intones.

"Please, do. Stop worrying about the old man." You insist. "Might not be in the job description, but I'll get it done. As always. See ya soon."

"See ya." He hangs up and your music comes back on. Not for long. You idle at a light and dial out another call.

Bucky's name flashes as you wait for a pick up. Of course, he can't be bothered. On this day of all. You sigh and try two more times as you get closer to his place. Nothing.

You get out and nearly trip out of the strappy heels. Wilson owes you indeed, for more than the personal house call. You teeter up over the curb and grab onto the railing. You climb the concrete steps and pound on the front door of the townhouse.

"Barnes," you holler through. "I know you didn't forget."

You hammer again. You only stop when your fist throbs. You shake out your hands and huff. You stomp and feel the skinny heel bend dangerously. Fuck.

You don't got the tech on you to unlock the keypad, looks like the old-fashioned way will do. You shift your clutch and pull out your nail file. Bastard. You better not break a nail for his reclusive ass.

You go around back and use the file to latch the kitchen window. You know Bucky is his own security but he really should get a proper alarm. You punch the screen in and grab the frame. You haul yourself into your waist and balance there, the ledge pressing on your stomach. The smell of coffee greets you in a bold waft.

You look up as Bucky leans his vibranium palm on the counter and watches you. You snarl and reach out. "A little help?"

He keeps his coffee to his lips and nears, grabbing your forearm to leverage you inside. Your knees touch the counter and you kneel there as you catch your breath. He lets go, watching you over the brim.

"You coulda knocked," he says.

"I did," you slip your legs out from under you. "Loud."

"I was in the shower."

"Great, at least you got that done," you chide.

"Coffee?" He offers as he points to the french press.

"Barnes," you warn with a point. "Please."

You stare at him. He's in a pair of sweats and a tee shirt. His slippers are the sort of plaid that you find in a nursing home. You hold back a growl.

"You know what today is."

"I don't think I should go," he grumbles.

"Are you serious? Don't be a sour puss--" A sudden white flash lands beside you and the rattling purr rumbles against your leg. You pause to pet Alpine as if she heard you deriding her breed. "Not you," you assure her.

"I don't want to ruin it--"

"Barnes, you can put a suit on and sit pretty," you push off the counter and your ankles turn to noodles as you barely keep from a sprain. "Look at me, all dressed up like a prize pig, so go put an apple in your mouth."

He rolls his eyes, "he doesn't need me--"

"Bull," you interject.

You march past him. This is how it is. You can deal with it on missions. That's just how it goes. Most men you work with are obstinate to the point of being another adversary on their own. But outside the job, it's a bit too much.

You go down the hall and slow. It takes a moment to get your bearings. You've never been much further than the front door. You ignore the clutter across the front room floor and charge upstairs.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Bucky stands at the bottom as you stomp up.

You don't answer him. You go into his bedroom. You stop and look around. The bed is made, possibly unslept in. The room doesn't look used much at all. You go to his closet and slide the door open. You find a pair of slacks and a jacket. Tie, shirt, all presentable enough.

He appears in the doorway. You lay everything on the bed.

"Get dressed," you demand.

"I'll call Sam--"

"No, Wilson is busy. It's his day. You wanna know how you're going to ruin it?" You approach him and cross your arms. "By going AWOL. Not today, Barnes. Now, get yourself together."

You strut out and shut the door. You stop outside and call through. "Five minutes."

You continues down to the stairs and idle there. You check your phone. You can make it. Easy. He just needs to get his ass in gear.

When the door opens, you turn to him. His tie is undone. You go to him and grab it, knotting it roughly, not that he would notice.

"You couldn't shave in the shower?" You huff.

"Hey, I can do it," he tries to bat you away.

"Then why didn't you do it twenty minutes ago?" He shrugs and you pull his tie straight. You tug his lapels and straighten his jacket. "And the rest." You flick your fingers toward his face.

He shakes his head and goes into the bathroom. He grabs his comb as you linger and you see him in the mirror dragging the teeth through his thick hair. It's to his collar now. You told him to get a hair cut. He never listens. Not your problem. Well, only for today.

"Damn..."

"Here," you dip into the bathroom and grab the comb. "Just--"

You reach for the tin of gel. You just need him to look somewhat presentable. You part his hair neatly and comb it back behind his head, moving around him to check nothing's out of place. He stares at the floor. You don't want to embarrass him but goddamnit.

"Okay," you pop the cap on and wipe your hands on the towel hanging in the loop. "Let's go."

His eyes stray to the wall and he mopes. You take a breath.

"Barnes, it's for Sam," you say.

"I know," he croaks and heaves. He lifts his head and puts his shoulders straight. "I'll do my best not to fuck this up."

[tojigasm]

Thinking of boyfriend!Bucky babying you as a part two to this <3

Bucky really loves to just take care of you. and over time, he's become progressively worse at being able to hold himself back in doing so.

Now, anytime there's a moment of peace while the two of you are out, a hand is coming up to rest at the dip of your back; scratching or massaging gently.

The touch always leaves you a rendered a little lazy - it's almost as if he's found your 'off' button, and suddenly, you feel as though you've slipped into a gentle and quiet headspace.

He's evil.

"Y'ready to go?" he asks, the grocery bags held in one hand.

It takes you a moment to realize he's paid and everythings been bagged.

your mouth feels dry.

you nod.

on the way out to the car, his hand stays at the dip of your back, circling against the fabric of your shirt.

Once the bags are loaded into the backseat of his truck, he's holding your hand and helping you into the passenger seat.

"Y'got it?" he asks, plush lips pulled into a soft smile.

Or there's other times where he's got you sat on the floor between his legs while he braids your hair while the two of you watch TV.

It always starts with: "Can you brush my hair, Buck?"

He'll never admit it, but he counts the minutes until you ask him; he's found it most common that you'll ask around the 15-minute mark of a film or TV episode.

When he brushes your hair, he's so gentle that you could cry.

his hands scratch at your scalp, and he'll hold your head straight with a hand at the back of your neck, massaging the tense muscles or simply just reminding you that he's there with you.

When you start to get droopy from his touch, he'll smooth your hair behind your ear and press a kiss to your temple.

"Y'tried, baby?" is his favroite thing to ask when you get like that.

You make a lazy attempt to appear awake, but you always end up falling asleep with your face pressed into one of his knees or head resting atop one of his thighs.

and it's even worse when he's balls deep in you and your legs are thrown over his shoulder and he's so heavy on top of you that all you can do is take what he gives you.

the girth of him and angle already has you delerious. You're struggling to focus on him, and then he leans down and presses a long kiss to your forehead.

You instantly grab hold of his forearms and sob.

He smoothes your hair back from where it sticks to your brow, saying softly: "Hey, there, pretty girl."

Then theres other times when you've just had a horribly terrible day, and you just need to turn off your brain.

He'll come home to you wrapped up in blankets on the couch and immediately pull you into his lap while running his hands up and down the soft of your back.

"Wanna tell me what happened?"

"No." You grumble into his neck.

You feel him nod against you and shuffle to sink further into the couch, pulling you closer against him as his thighs spread beneath you.

"Can you do that thing you do?" you ask, pressing a soft kiss to his collar.

Bucky gives a hum and brings a hand up to guide your jaw towards him, where he meets you in a gentle kiss.

you isntantly melt into him; your brows furrowing as you whimper against his lips.

Bucky pulls back to guide you by the arm, helping you to sit down between his thighs.

the anticipation of his touch brings a chill to your spine, and you shiver invoulntaerrily -- earning an amused chuckle from the man behind you.

his hands start at the base of your neck and raise up to the top of your scalp, massaging and stroking your soft skin.

You're instantly melting into his touch with a sigh, leaning back against the bottom of the couch and tilting your head back.

He's gentle as his fingers trace intricate lines and shapes against the skin of your scalp and down the base of your neck.

The contrasting touch of the cool metal of his hand and the heat of his other settles relaxation over your nerves.

The quiet and soft hum of the AC in Bucky's bedroom of the compound soothes you over, and you can feel yourself driffting asleep as your eyes fall shut.

Bucky's hands continue down to your shoulders and behind your ears -- applying a firm and releaxing pressure to your muscles.

"y'feel good, baby?" he coos, nails grazing the tip of your hairline.

you mumble something incorreherently, dropping your head to rest against the inside of his knee.

Bucky chuckles and drags the backs of his knuckles down the side of your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He does this for a few more moments before bringing his hand down to your jaw, gently stroking the curve of it as he drags you to the side to press a kiss on your lips.

And then theres the times where the two of you are out driving and he just hands you his phone to play whatever music you wanna listen to.

"I can play what I want?" You sometimes ask.

And he just gives you a gentle nod while smiling, eyes focused on yours from behind his sunglasses.

"'Course y'can, sweetie."

He'll sing along to whatever you put on without a single complaint and all the while holding your hand in his as he drives.

He loves you so much and finds so much comfort in being able to take care of you and tease you all the same.

[navybrat817]

Lovelies, my third day of stretches and it's kicking my ass. Still proud though. My son joined me this morning, too. ❤️

We all know Bucky's kid is stretching with him. ❤️

[5ummit]

You have the target in range. Shoot.

[mikeluciraphgabe]

I don’t think, as a fandom, we talk about Bucky and Steve fighting in one of the most gruesome and fucked up wars the modern world has seen enough (ontop of being raised by fathers who fought in the one before it)

While yes, they deserve and should be written as characters with PTSD because of what they do on the avengers/as the winter soldier/being placed in a whole new world without a say

We should also be writing them as characters who have fought in WWII and seen some fucking shit (Omaha beach, the bombs in Japan, people who where imprisoned at the concentration camp, their friends dying right next to them, helping out in the trenches, watching people loose a leg or arm, etc etc)

Ontop of this, bucky (in the comics and I think one of the cartoons) joined the army when he was like 17/18 years old. A fucking kid.

We should write more PTSD scenes of the two having flashbacks relating to WWII and not only the things I mentioned before

Steve is screaming and crying on the floor because Tony grabbed his arm from behind and- Buck is a fucking child and he’s stuck in the building, let go of me Sargent - let me go get my little brother before it blows and Tony is shushing him with “it’s okay hon, it’s just me”

Bucky is holding a gun up to his husband’s face because, just for a second, Sam (with a Halloween mask) looked like a gasser that killed a guy who pushed Bucky out of a window before said gas exploded on that floor and the guy died

More scenes of PTSD Bucky and Steve that goes to WWII