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simplyholl · 1 month ago

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Thanks for including me! Can’t wait to read these other fics! ❤️

BUCKY BARNES | SEX POLLEN TROPE

main masterlist | note: as the trope includes smut, all of the fics include +18 content. also since at least one party is under the influence of some kind of a chemical, this is dubious content. please proceed with caution and minors dni. enjoy!

toxic heat • bucky barnes x reader | by @nyletac

summary: while waiting for the extraction team after a successful mission, bucky leaves you and runs into a greenhouse room in the mission building with strange plants. accidentally breathing in the gas from the plants he returns to you, but something is off. (smut) (6,4k words)

take you there • bucky barnes x reader | by @heli0s-writes

summary: sam plays a game called fuck or die. it's like he willed it into existence as you and hucky explore the basement of an old hydra lair. (smut, dub-con) (3,8k words)

louder than fear • bucky barnes x fem!reader | by @godmadeaterribleerror

summary: missions involving hydra often go very wrong. this is different. this is worse. this is a strange bioweapon, nobody telling you exactly what's wrong, and staring at the ceiling as bucky roars you name. it’s echoing in your brain. and you love him. (smut, light angst) (8,5k words)

lustful agony • bucky barnes x plus size!reader | by @fatecantstopme

summary: after getting hit in the face with a pink dust during a visit to an old hydra lab, you are confused as to what happened. thankfully, your mission partner knows what it is, and thankfully he knows the solution. (smut, dub-con, unprotected sex, masturbation)

what was rule number #2 again? • tfatws!bucky barnes x reader | by @satinestales

summary: messing around in banner's lab, the night before your mission wasn't as good an idea as you thought, and you begin to question your actions the moment you step out of it. things worsen when you realize the super soldier serum isn't immune to an unknown contagious disease. (smut)

delirium • bucky barnes x reader | by @flowersforbucky

summary: stranded in the middle of the alaskan wilderness with no means of communication after being exposed to a foreign drug, you're reluctant to accept help from the one person who has a shot at saving you. (smut, dub-con, unprotected sex, angst, friends to lovers, avenger!reader) (4,1k words)

play pretend | part two • bucky barnes x reader | by @wkemeup

summary: when bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help. (smut, dub-con) (7,8k words)

summary of pt.2: in the aftermath of munich, bucky struggles to go back to how things were before. but now that he knows how it is to love you, he's not sure he can. (smut, mutual pining) (5,8k words)

strawberries • bucky barnes x fem!reader | by @ellemj

summary: bucky, the man with a long list of girls on his roster, gets exposed to a sex pollen in the field. will he fuck the first girl he calls or the girl he's wanted for the last two months? (smut, dub-con, unprotected sex, size kink, fuckboy!bucky) (7,5k words)

does it hurt? | bonus chapter • bucky barnes x fem!reader | by @ellemj

summary: bucky never would've gone out of his way to help you if he knew that hydra was still watching his every move, if he knew that it would shift their focus to you. when you're targeted and taken, it's his fault and he'll do anything to save you. anything. (angst, smut, unprotected sex, abduction, violence, voyeurism, mentions of sa) (24,3k words)

summary of bonus ch.: when you're finally out of hydra’s clutches, the recovery process drives you and bucky farther and farther apart. you can't decide if what you felt between you was real or chemically-induced. what will it take to sway you? (smut, angst, non-descriptive smut) (12,4k words)

untitled • bucky barnes x reader | by @myfictionaldreams

summary: it was your first mission out with your mentor, bucky, but not all goes to plan when you stumble across an old hydra laboratory and accidentally trigger a trap. (smut, dub-con, grumpy x sunshine, rough sex, praise kink)

high for this • new avenger!bucky barnes x reader | by @buckysleftbicep

summary: during a mission, you and bucky are exposed to a gas meant to strip away restraint. he resists, and well, you try. but when the heat fades, it’s not the mission that haunts you both, it’s what happened behind that door. (smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, angst, regret) (3,8k words)

desperate | uncertain an sure • bucky barnes x fem!reader | by @buckets-and-trees

summary: enemies? rivals? it's always been reluctant teamwork between you and the winter soldier, but when put in a situation where personal feelings have to be put aside, maybe actual personal feelings are uncovered. (smut, kidnapping)

desperate measures • bucky barnes x avenger!fem!reader | by @simplyholl

summary: when you encounter a mysterious substance during a mission, it forces you and your mission partner to get closer. (smut)

petals • bucky barnes x fem!reader | by @biteofcherry

summary: it was supposed to be so simple. a boring reckon mission. just to check the cabin and secure any samples of the ongoing experiments the former hydra doctor ran the place. however the unexpected comes in the form of a flower. (smut, dub-con, fingering)

unleashed • avengers!bucky barnes x fem!reader | by @veltana

summary: during a mission, bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you. (smut, slight fluff, possessive!bucky, unprotected sex) (4,2k words)

crimson fever • bucky barnes x fem!reader | by @mandoalorian

summary: in the icy shadows of 1944 occupied europe, you uncover a dangerous hydra secret that could shift the war’s tide. but hydra’s ruthless scientist, arnim zola, marks you as a threat, unleashing a sinister drug—“crimson fever”—that set your body and soul ablaze with an unrelenting desire. as you fight to protect vital intel, your path collides with sergeant bucky barnes, your childhood friend from brooklyn, whose unspoken love for you burns brighter than the war’s chaos. (smut, dub-con, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, violence, torture) (6,7k words)

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simplyholl · 2 months ago

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🤣 i love it!! They need to step up their game

Petition to have Disney+ installed with a warning that knows you’re ovulating and pops up and says:

“Girl you’re way too horny to be watching Captain America: The Winter Soldier right now.”

Paging @simplyholl 😂

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simplyholl · 2 months ago

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It needs to say “are you sure you can handle this?” Before it lets you watch 🤣

Petition to have Disney+ installed with a warning that knows you’re ovulating and pops up and says:

“Girl you’re way too horny to be watching Captain America: The Winter Soldier right now.”

Paging @simplyholl 😂

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simplyholl · 2 months ago

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Thank you! ❤️

Desperate Measures

Summary: When you encounter a mysterious substance during a mission, it forces you and your mission partner to get closer.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger F. Reader

Warnings: Quinjet crash. Sex pollen. Smut. Slight choking. Brief fucking with a gun. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist Here

You curse Nick Fury for what feels like the millionth time in the past three years. He had a "brilliant" idea, mission partners. When there was a world threat all of the Avengers would assemble. But when it came to smaller stuff like mobs, small Hydra threats, or robberies, he wanted just a few of you to take care of it.

Fury paired everyone based on their skills, their background, astrology, and other secret factors he wasn't willing to share. The idea came shortly after you joined the team, making an even number of people on the Avengers. You received copies of each other's files. You were supposed to spend most of your time with them at first to learn everything about them.

Fury wanted you to be able to almost read your mission partner's mind, to anticipate every move they made on the field. You should know them better than you know yourself. Which would have been great, except you got paired with Bucky Barnes, the former brainwashed assassin. He hated you, and you weren't even sure why. But the moment you met him, he was cold to you. He wasn't normally the friendliest anyways, but he had it out for you specifically.

He would smile and laugh with Steve and Sam. He was more guarded with the others, but he tolerated them, not you though. He fought with you all the time over nothing usually. So three years ago when Fury assigned you to be his mission partner, Bucky was furious. He complained to Fury, trying to switch. Fury immediately shot him down. He told him if he didn't like it, there was the door. After Steve talked to him, he begrudgingly accepted his fate.

You fought more often than not, an occurrence the other Avengers were used to. You’d argue the whole way on a mission. But when you were working together, you both could end your petty squabbles until it was completed. Then you’d be back at it the second it was over.

This time was no different. Bucky was flying the quinjet while you looked over a map of the Hydra facility you were going to. Your mission was simple. Break in, get the files, and get out. The building was located in Italy. You and Bucky both agreed once you got the files, you would part ways and explore the city. You were excited. The food, the culture, the men were all calling you. You packed a new dress just for the occasion.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the quinjet made a noise that made a shiver run up your spine. The lights on the dash started blinking rapidly. Beeping filled the jet as you looked to Bucky. “Not a fucking word.” He barked at you, his metal fingers frantically pressing buttons.

The jet started to spin in the air. Bucky cursed as he tried to steady the wheel. It was no use, you were going down. You sat straight up in your seat holding onto your seatbelt for dear life. Of course, you would die with the person you hate most in the world. Karma was a bitch and you weren’t sure what you did to deserve this fate. The jet whipped around in the sky before plummeting to the ground.

After the initial shock wore off, you opened your eyes hesitantly. You must be dead. You hit way too hard and fell fast. The first thing you see is Bucky who quickly unbuckles himself and stands. Oh great, this must be hell. You’re gonna be stuck with him for all eternity. “Not that I’d have a problem with it, but if you don’t want to be here when the jet explodes, you better get out now.” Bucky tells you as he uses his metal hand to pry open a caved in wall and crawl out. You follow him with no hesitation.

Bucky walks a good distance away from the wreckage with you in tow. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls Nick Fury letting him know what happened. After a few minutes, he hangs up. “What did he say?” You ask hoping someone was on their way to get you. “Our coordinates show that we aren’t far from the Hydra facility. Fury said do the mission and he will have somewhere for us to spend the night when we are done. Someone will come get us tomorrow.”

“All our stuff is on the jet, are we not gonna get to go out like we planned?” You whined. You knew you were being selfish, but you had been dreaming of going out after the mission ever since you found out about it a month ago. Bucky shoots you a glare. “No, Princess. We aren’t going out after this.”

He rolls his eyes at you. You put your hands on your hips, pissed off at the nickname he calls you. “Princess” wouldn’t be a horrible nickname. But the way he used it made you furious. He said you were spoiled and bratty. So he had given you the nickname three years ago after you became mission partners.

He uses his phone to find the location of the Hydra facility. You followed him the whole time, flipping him off or making faces behind his back as he berated you for still wanting to go out. When you make it to your destination, Bucky turns around and gives you that signature glare. “If you don’t stop flipping me off and sticking your tongue out at me, I will break your fingers and rip out your tongue.”

Your heart dropped as you realized he knew what you had been up to the whole time. Before you could defend yourself, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you inside the building. He led the way through the dark. It was silent and it seemed like you were alone. You finally found the main computer. He stood guard as you pulled up the files and downloaded them to the device Fury gave you. When you were done, you shut down the computer and handed Bucky the device. He pocketed it and started walking toward the exit.

A loud siren started going off, blue lights flashed through the building. A chemical scent filled your nostrils. You look up to see red smoke descending from the ceiling. It was everywhere. You start to panic. It was probably some poison designed to kill whoever broke in here. Bucky was half way to the door when you finally realized you should move. You ran to him as he pulled on the door. “It’s locked.” He told you. Your heart beat faster as the red smoke slowly got closer to you.

Bucky started kicking the door until the wood splintered under his leather boots. You follow him to the front of the building, the red smoke almost face level with you now. He runs at the front door using his strength to break it down, but not before the smoke surrounded both of you. You both cough as it fills your lungs. He wraps his flesh hand around your arm, dragging you behind him.

You walk a good mile before you decide to speak up. “Was that poison?” You ask him, scared for what was to come. “How the hell should I know?” His hateful reply pissed you off. “I’m so angry that I’m gonna die with you of all people!”

“I’m not. I can’t wait to watch you take your last breath. I’ll fight to stay alive until you do. Then I can die peacefully.” You open your mouth to reply when his phone starts ringing. He answers it, telling who you presumed was Fury about the mission. He asked about the red smoke but it didn’t sound like Fury had the answers. When he hung up, he turned to you. “He sent me the location of the safe house. We are going to go there while Bruce and Tony try to figure out what the smoke was.”

When you arrive at the safe house, you’re actually impressed. Usually it would be some shack in the woods. But this was a nice house. It was clean, it smelled nice. Most importantly, the kitchen was full of ramen, canned food and water. You made dinner for the two of you, bringing him a bowl of ramen as he accepted a video call from Tony.

Tony was smiling so wide, his face looked like it might split in half. “I got good news and bad news, kiddos.” He waits a second before speaking again. “The good news is, you’re not going to die.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding at that revelation. “The bad news is it was a sex drug.” Bucky and you look at each other, confusion on both of your faces. Tony bursts into laughter.

“I’m gonna assume, you don’t know what I mean?” You both shake your heads as Tony continues. “Well, the sex drug enhances all your senses. You’re going to be horny if a breeze blows by. And it will be unbearable. You’ll feel like you’re going to die if you don’t have sex. And you will. The drug is designed to make your body so hot that a high fever will set in. It will boil your brain if you don’t have sex. Don’t bother touching yourselves, that won’t work. You have to sleep with someone to make the side effects go away.” Tony cackles as he looks at the shocked looks on your faces.

He looks at his watch. “You should have about an hour before it sets in. And probably four after that before it kills you. So good luck.” He laughs before hanging up. The silence between you and Bucky is filled with tension. Both of you unsure of what this situation will bring.

You finish your dinner without saying a word to each other. But you can’t take it anymore. “Do you think he’s right?” Bucky considers your question for a moment, his blue eyes focusing on you. “Yeah, he wouldn’t lie to us.” You take a deep breath. “We have about thirty minutes before we start to feel it. What are we gonna do?”

“Im going to take a shower and go to bed.” You look at him incredulously. “Bucky, he said we will die if we don’t have sex. There’s gotta be a bar around here or something. We can go out and find someone to sleep with.” You offer a reasonable solution. Bucky chuckles, “We are in the middle of nowhere. There’s no one around for miles. And I’m sure as hell not fucking you.” He spits the words at you like venom.

“I don’t want you anywhere near me. But we don’t have a choice.” You fire back, but Bucky ignores you, walking to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. You go into the bedroom with the en-suite bathroom and take a shower too. You can feel your body start to heat up. You turn the water as cool as it can get. When you dry off, your skin is sensitive. You can feel yourself getting wet just from the towel touching you.

You look through the drawers, knowing that there was usually clothes in there just in case. You were so hot you were starting to feel like not putting any clothes on at all. But you settled on a thin, white tank top and a pair of red panties. Your hard nipples rubbed against the fabric of the tank top making you moan. You lay on the bed and check your phone. The symptoms were just now setting in, and you were already miserable.

You closed your eyes, trying to sleep. Maybe Bucky was onto something. If you could sleep through your death, it might not be so bad. But sleep never came. You tossed and turned, you touched yourself. But nothing would suppress the horrible ache between your thighs. Your panties were practically stuck to you, they were so soaked. You checked the time again, realizing you only had an hour and a half before your imminent demise.

You stand up on shaky legs and walk to the bedroom Bucky was in. Desperate times called for desperate measures. You knock on the door gently at first, but after a few minutes pass with no answer, you try the door handle. It’s locked. You beat your fists against the door. “Bucky let me in. I’ll do all the work. You can close your eyes, pretend I’m someone else. We can put bags on our heads. But I need you to fuck me right now.”

He opens the door, his long hair in a messy bun, his blue eyes dark with lust. He’s naked, his hard cock on full display. “Bucky, please. I know we hate each other, but we have to. I can’t take this.” He doesn’t say anything as he grabs you with his metal hand slinging you onto the bed. You gasp as your back hits the mattress. Bucky towers over you looking at your body hungrily. His gaze lingers on your breasts. Your nipples are so hard, you’re surprised they haven’t cut through your tank top.

“If we are doing this, we do it my way.” He grumbles. You just lay there, willing to do whatever he wants. He walks over to the nightstand, grabbing his pistol and walking back to you. “What are you doing with that?” You ask wide eyed. “Shut the fuck up.” He growls. You swallow hard as he brings the gun down over your torso.

He grips your tank top between his large hands and pulls. The rip of the fabric echoes through the silence. He moves above you, bringing his head to your breasts. He captures a nipple between his lips, pulling it with his teeth. You cry out as he soothes the pain with his tongue, lapping at it gently.

He jerks your panties down your legs, discarding them behind him. “God, Princess, you’re soaked.” He runs the muzzle of the pistol through your folds. The cold metal making you shiver. He positions it slightly, sliding the barrel into you with ease. “Bucky! What’s with the gun?” He smirks as he works the weapon in and out of you. “I don’t want to touch you yet.” He shrugs, maneuvering the barrel causing it to hit your g-spot. Your toes curl and you arch up off the bed.

Bucky grabs you back down, his vibranium arm laying across your stomach to hold you in place. He removes the pistol, looking at it in awe. It’s covered with you. His tongue darts out to lick your arousal off it. He moans as he sucks all of you off his weapon. “You taste so good, Princess.”

You gasp as he jerks your legs apart, fingers digging into your flesh. You’re dripping down your thighs, making it harder for him to keep hold of you. He lowers his head, lapping up your arousal from your thighs. When he finally makes it to where you need him most, he wastes no time. His lips and tongue feasting on you like he’s ravenous. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly as he pulls a forceful orgasm out of you.

He stands, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Bucky is fully inside you with one forceful thrust. You gasp at the delicious stretch. “Fuck.” He whispers, a few loose strands of hair fall from his bun. You have to fight the urge to grab a piece between your fingers.

Bucky’s movements are erratic. He’s like a wild animal. He lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder, the new angle causes him to hit even deeper. You’re a mess, crying out his name, watching his face as he sets a brutal pace. The heat in your stomach becoming unbearable. You move your hips with him, matching his rhythm. He brings down his vibranium hand, touching over your chest before bringing it to your neck.

He squeezes lightly at first before adding more pressure. Your eyes roll back in your head. This was all too much. The way his big body pressed you against the mattress. The way he was looking at you. The way his vibranium hand was wrapped around your throat. How he fit so perfectly, it was like you were made to take him. You clench around him, causing his movements to falter. He is getting sloppy.

You wrap the leg not on his shoulder around his waist bringing him impossibly closer. You feel him spilling inside you sending you over the edge with him. He removes his hand from your neck, bringing it to your chin forcing you to look at him. “I hate you.” He whispers as he stills inside you. Bucky removes himself and stands between your legs. He gathers the cum dripping out of you with his middle and index fingers, forcing it back inside you. “I hate you too.” You say as your legs tremble from the intensity of it all.

Tags in the comments ❤️

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simplyholl · 2 months ago

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I love a good hate fuck 😉

Desperate Measures

Summary: When you encounter a mysterious substance during a mission, it forces you and your mission partner to get closer.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger F. Reader

Warnings: Quinjet crash. Sex pollen. Smut. Slight choking. Brief fucking with a gun. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist Here

Tags in the comments ❤️

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simplyholl · 2 months ago

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I love that you knew I’d like the finger wiping 🤣🤣🤣 that’s so funny

Desperate Measures (Part 1) - Steve Rogers x Established Relationship / Fellow Avengers Reader 🍆

Summary: You’re dangerously turned on during a mission and it’s distracting you. Steve decides to prioritise your ‘wellbeing’ while balancing the needs of the team. He needs you back on form asap so he finds a secluded location to take care of you quickly and efficiently…. all without compromising the mission.

Warnings / Contains: Extremely horny YN, semi-public fingering, mild dirty talk. Soft!Dom energy. Steve Captain-ing all over the damn place.

Words: 1,400

A/N: Collective headcannons are in this post. Special thanks to @bigtreefest who coined the term, "Plus, he can smell it, and it’s gonna distract him, too." He’s a super sensual super soldier with super senses - CANON.

“We’re in this together, okay? I got you.”

Steve inserted his earpiece and gave a nod and a smile so brief you almost missed it. You inserted your handgun into your thigh holster and looked around the jet at the team similarly readying themselves for the task ahead. A takedown of hostiles running an IED factory on the outskirts of a remote European town. Standard.

He wasn’t bullshitting, either. It wasn’t a hollow platitude about teamwork. On a mission, he kept a keen eye on every one of you. You had seen him swoop in and place his hand on the back of Natasha, crouched down and lightheaded. You had hiked for hours. She hadn’t eaten. She could continue, she insisted. She swatted his concern away with a wave of her black leather glove. Steve didn’t yield. He instructed the team to rest for ten minutes while he hand-fed the assassin emergency rations until she was back to her old self.

On another assignment, a male team member was missing cues on comms. He appeared distracted. Steve discretely approached him and the man confessed his urgent need of a bathroom break. Without embarrassing his colleague, Steve instructed the team to provide cover while the man had a quick break behind a bush, before he was able to re-join the team and concentrate fully on the task ahead. You all continued with the mission and had no idea of the reason why he asked you all to step in. He was stealth like that.

Steve Rogers was a new style of leader. Far from solely focusing on completing the mission at any cost, he ensured the health, safety and wellbeing of the individuals who collectively made up the team. When you were well, when you were taken care of, you could physically give your all. Moreover, you wanted to. Steve had your backs. And you had his.

It was hot. Really hot. It turned you on to see him leading with skill, precision and genuine care for his teammates. Every press of his fingers to his earpiece, every military command, every frown showing his intense concentration was catnip to your loins. None of this helped your current, slippery predicament.

Trailing through dense undergrowth on your way to the IED factory, your delayed reaction almost got you shot, the Captain’s rapid deployment of his shield the only thing between you and a bullet. Steve pulled you to one side.

“Talk to me, honey. What do you need?”

“It’s nothing, Steve. Really.”

You pressed on, marching forwards through the undergrowth, still one mile out from the rogue factory. You felt a firm hand squeeze your bicep and turn your body to face him.

“I’m not accepting that answer. Not as your partner. Or as your Captain.”

You sighed. “Fine. I’m…. I’m distracted.”

He looked you up and down. Your flushed cheeks were the only possible tell. “What is it, honey?” You shook your head and looked down at your boots, shame filling every fibre of your being. He pulled you towards him and brushed your cheek gently with the backs of his fingers. “You’re my girl. You can tell me anything.”

You didn’t notice the second rogue shell fired in your direction. Steve reacted rapidly, turning and protecting you with his shield, manoeuvring you both to the forest floor, crouched behind vibranium.

Pressed against his chest, you could smell him. Inoffensive designer cologne mixed with the fresh sweat of battle. He breathed heavily in your ear from the exertion. Deft fingers touched his earpiece, commanding the team to advance forward in a defensive formation.

He held you, pulling you close. You shifted your knee onto the soil to get comfortable. It forced the crease of your tactical suit across your groin. You groaned.

Steve thought back to his phone buzzing mid-coital this morning. The moan of frustration from you both. The desperate need filling your body like the contents of a wine poured into a glass until it overflows. The metaphorical wine was seeping into the mission now.

“You’re worked up,” he stated simply.

“Yeah. But it shouldn’t distract me like this.” You closed your eyes as his forehead rested against yours. “I should be able to control myself.”

He pressed his CommsLink into his ear and requested cover for the next five minutes. The team took his instructions without question. Steve removed his earpiece and took your hand. He ignored your protests and assurances that you were fine and within moments you were in a secluded section of the forest. Strong hands on your hips guided you into the solid trunk of an oak tree, the light force coaxing a puff of air from your lips. Deep undergrowth and overgrown shrubs provided a privacy screen, the team advancing ahead and out of earshot. One look over his shoulder and the Captain made his move.

“God, baby.” He pressed his hips into you, groaning as he unzipped your tactical suit and shrugged it off your shoulders. “I gotta have you.” He wasted no time in placing his lips all over the bare skin of your collarbone. Your hands were in his hair, pushing him deeper against your flesh. He grazed his fingers against your jawline before cradling your face between his hands. He kissed you with a masterful blend of urgency and care.

In one swift pull, he removed your tactical suit from the top half of your body and allowed it to hang at your waist. He nibbled at the warm, soft skin of your shoulders and traced his fingertips down your arms. You were a mess of moans and gasps, pleading for more, his lips leaving love notes all over your skin. The slickness between your legs was undeniable. You could feel it. You’re pretty sure he could smell it.

His hands slid down the front of your suit and into your heat, emitting a gravelled groan when he felt how slick you were for him. He moved his fingers with precision, watching your face contort with pleasure under his ministrations. The caring partner who wanted you to feel satisfied married with the captain who needed you back on form as quickly and efficiently as possible. He wasn’t wasting any time.

“God, Steve… baby….”

You writhed under his touch, wriggling against the hard tree trunk against your back and the solid mass of man in front of you. You were sure you would burst into flames.

Your little whines of desperation drove him insane but he remained focused on his task. He used his memory of your body and every bit of intimate knowledge and experience to work you right to the edge.

“Don’t hold back, baby.” He groaned into your ear, feeling his fingers soaked to the knuckles in your arousal. “Come for me. Come hard, honey.” He gasped, his breath desperate and ragged in your ear. “C’mon….”

The rapid movement of his middle finger over your clit, moving expertly as though trying to keep a marble just under the meniscus of the water, was too much. He pressed his chest into yours, the sight of you coming undone mid-mission too much for him. He let out a primal growl, steam from a kettle, an outlet for his desire. Your climax rushed through you with the power of a freight train. You forced yourself to moan silently in the face of the most powerful orgasm he had administered to date. You gripped the dirty shoulder of his tactical suit, shuddering in pleasure and panting as every cell of your body exploded like fireworks.

You leaned your head back against the tree, legs weak, vaguely aware of Steve guiding your arms back into your suit. When you opened your eyes you were fully zipped up. Earnest blue eyes stared into your soul.

“Are you okay, honey? You good to go?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.” You looked down to see a painfully hard cock straining against the thick Kevlar fabric of his pants. “But what about you?”

He shrugged and wiped his fingers against the thigh of his pants. “I’ll be fine. I’m a professional.”

He grabbed your hand and led you back into the pathway to rejoin the team. You were going to need to run to catch them up.

“How long were we out?”

He glanced at his watch. “Four minutes.”

“Fuck. That’s embarrassing.”

He ran ahead and looked back at you, smirking and shouting back his response as he inserted his earpiece back into place. “No, honey. It’s impressive!”

PART 2 COMING SOON (and so is Steve....)

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simplyholl · 2 months ago

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You’ve done it again!!!

"You're worked up," he stated simply.

He knows her so well!

The slickness between your legs was undeniable. You could feel it. You're pretty sure he could smell it.

👀 this should not make me feel the way it does 🤣

You gripped the dirty shoulder of his tactical suit, shuddering in pleasure and panting as every cell of your body exploded like fireworks.

Yes! The dirty suit! And when he puts her suit back on!!!

He shrugged and wiped his fingers against the thigh of his pants. "I'll be fine. I'm a professional."

HE WIPED HIS FINGERS ON HIS PANTS I CANT!

The “I’ll be fine. I’m a professional” reminded me so much of Loki making fun of him for some reason 🤣☠️

Desperate Measures (Part 1) - Steve Rogers x Established Relationship / Fellow Avengers Reader 🍆

Warnings / Contains: Extremely horny YN, semi-public fingering, mild dirty talk. Soft!Dom energy. Steve Captain-ing all over the damn place.

Words: 1,400

“We’re in this together, okay? I got you.”

“Talk to me, honey. What do you need?”

“It’s nothing, Steve. Really.”

You pressed on, marching forwards through the undergrowth, still one mile out from the rogue factory. You felt a firm hand squeeze your bicep and turn your body to face him.

“I’m not accepting that answer. Not as your partner. Or as your Captain.”

You sighed. “Fine. I’m…. I’m distracted.”

He held you, pulling you close. You shifted your knee onto the soil to get comfortable. It forced the crease of your tactical suit across your groin. You groaned.

“You’re worked up,” he stated simply.

“Yeah. But it shouldn’t distract me like this.” You closed your eyes as his forehead rested against yours. “I should be able to control myself.”

“God, Steve… baby….”

You writhed under his touch, wriggling against the hard tree trunk against your back and the solid mass of man in front of you. You were sure you would burst into flames.

“Are you okay, honey? You good to go?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.” You looked down to see a painfully hard cock straining against the thick Kevlar fabric of his pants. “But what about you?”

He shrugged and wiped his fingers against the thigh of his pants. “I’ll be fine. I’m a professional.”

He grabbed your hand and led you back into the pathway to rejoin the team. You were going to need to run to catch them up.

“How long were we out?”

He glanced at his watch. “Four minutes.”

“Fuck. That’s embarrassing.”

He ran ahead and looked back at you, smirking and shouting back his response as he inserted his earpiece back into place. “No, honey. It’s impressive!”

PART 2 COMING SOON (and so is Steve....)

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simplyholl · 2 months ago

Text

I’m a slut for a good spanking fic! I love you too! ❤️

Classic Conditioning - Steve Rogers x Reader 🍆

Summary: You talk back to Steve during a team discussion on how best to track down Thanos. Given you're a former UK Special Forces operative, Steve knows you can do better. He decides to teach you a lesson while you address him as 'Staff' during your punishment.

Contains: Spanking, Mean!Dom Steve and Soft!Dom Steve, verbal degradation, Military Kink, UK Special Forces lingo.

Words: 1,300

A/N: This is basically SAS: Who Dares Wins fanfic. I wish I was kidding. I'm appalled with myself. 😂

“Thanos threatens half the universe,” Vision stated. “One life cannot stand in the way of defeating him.”

The Captain’s gaze fixed on the table below him before looking up at the synthezoid with the saviour complex. “But it should.” He shook his head. “We don’t trade lives, Vision.”

You scoffed and muttered to yourself. “Since uhh.... when.”

Cap’s eyes shifted to you now. His expression remained fixed, his tone steady. “One more word honey and you’re goin’ over my knee.” He looked back to Wanda and continued discussing the logistics of protecting the coveted stone from the intergalactic threat.

Your stomach flipped. Did he actually just…?

Yeah. He fucking did.

It was widely known you had been on the run from the government for two years. Steve from his government. And you, from yours.

The team knew you as Steve’s partner in crime. His confident. His lover. That was no secret.

The sordid kinky details, however, had remained as classified as the formula for the serum that made your side piece the man he is today.

Now it was out in the open.

Wanda had cocked her head.

Thor raised an eyebrow.

Vision simply frowned.

The conversation about traveling to Wakanda continued as though secrets about your sex life hadn’t been blown into the air like flour, covering every surface. You weren’t having any of it.

“Steve, fucking hang on.”

He sighed and apologised to Vision and Wanda. “Give me a minute.”

Without another word he walked up to you, grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the room and around the corner, marching you down a brightly lit hallway on the other side of the bevelled glass wall.

“Steve what the fuck is wrong with you?”

He manoeuvred you into the wall. “We’ve talked about this, honey. No talkin’ back in front of the team.”

Your verbal protests were lost in the midst of Steve dragging you into a room at the end of the hallway. He closed the door with a thud.

“Hands on the table.”

“Are you fucking joking?”

“Honey. You might have abandoned your country.” He looked up at you like a disappointed father. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate you abandoning your training.”

“What?”

“Palms on the desk. That’s an order.”

You sighed but obliged, knowing better than to go to battle with Stubborn Sargent Steve. He was impossible when he was in army mode.

“You’re a highly regarded special forces operator, honey. The first woman in the UKSF.” You heard the click of his belt buckle as he unfastened it behind you. “Or did that slip your mind. Huh?”

Blisters. Bleeding feet. Carrying men twice your weight. Twisted ankles. A sprained lower back. More cuts and bruises than you could count.

Five months of pure hell to pass SAS selection.

No. You hadn’t forgot. You told Steve as much.

“No…. what?”

“No, Captain Rogers.”

You heard the whip of leather through Teflar as he pulled his tactical belt from his pants. You shivered as his breath kissed your ear and he whispered. “That’s not what you’re gonna call me today.” He chuckled. “Give me a fuckin’ Yes Staff.”

All those nights hunkering down in shitty hostels in indistinct Welsh towns, eating Super Noodles and wanging on about your time as an SAS recruit. He had listened. Taken it all in. And now you were getting payback.

“Y-yes, Staff,” you stuttered, your face flushed. Fucking hell. He was going to milk it. You knew it. You closed your eyes, palms flat on the desk and arse presented to him, as he worked his belt into a loop in his hands.

“You were given a number during your training, right?”

“Yes, Staff.”

“What was your number?”

“Number seven, staff.”

“Number seven. Give me the definition of classic conditioning.”

“Yes, Staff. It’s the process where a stimulus acquires the ability to trigger a response due to its repeated pairing with another stimulus. Like Pavlov’s bell.”

“Good, number seven.” He paused for dramatic effect. “That’s exactly what we’re gonna do today.”

That’s basic reward and punishment, you dumb fuck. Positive reinforcement. Not classic conditioning. Whatever.

“If you so much as think of somethin’ bratty, I’m gonna make you pay for it.”

Either he heard a scoff you failed to stifle. Or he was fucking psychic.

“Y-yes, Staff. I’m sorry, Staff.”

“Don’t let it happen again. Number seven, for talking back in front of the team, I’m gonna strike you ten times with my belt. After each one, you’ll say thank you staff. Understood.”

“Yes, Staff.”

Steve Rogers was kinkier than the British army.

And that was saying something.

He whipped you with his belt, each strike accompanied by your thanks. The leather stung through your jeans. By the final strike, you were gasping.

“Th-thank you, Staff…”

“Good work, number seven. Next. I wanna ensure you remember the core values of your regiment. Do you remember them, number seven?”

“Yes, Staff.”

“Pull down your jeans, number seven.”

You inhaled slowly. And exhaled. Even the feistiest thought must be buried. He would know. Silently, you unbuttoned your jeans and exposed your buttocks. You steadied your breath. Your training and obedience wouldn’t permit you to turn back. If you did, you would see his hard cock straining against his tactical pants. The image flashed in front of your retina, so brief not even Steve could detect it.

“The four tenants of the British Special Forces. You’re gonna recite each one after I strike you with my palm. Understood.”

Fucking YES STAFF, you wanted to scream.

Instead you swallowed and answered demurely.

“Good, number seven. First tenant.” He struck you hard.

“Professionalism, Staff.”

“Good. Second tenant.” He hit your arse cheek with his palm. You gasped.

“People, Staff.”

“Third.” He struck you again, palm resting on your cheek and circling softly, an echo of his tenderness.

“Preparation, S-Staff.”

“Fourth and final tenant.” A pause hung in the air. So did his hand. It recoiled and slapped your harder than all three of the previous strikes combined. You bit down on your tongue so hard you almost drew blood.

“Pride, S-Staff.”

You were boneless. Arms trembling.

Physically, you could take a lot. Your psychological pain threshold was even higher.

Steve chose not to push you. He asked you one final question.

“What is the most honourable value of the SAS, number seven.”

“The relentless pursuit of excellence, Staff.”

You felt denim smooth over your tender cheeks. Strong hands at the front of you, buttoning them back up. You felt his chest against your back. And his voice in your ear, soft and gentle.

“You’re the best, honey. Never forget that.”

He wrapped his arms around your chest and lifted you from the desk, large hands on your shoulders turning you to face him. He brushed the hair from your face, damp with sweat.

He cast a glance to the door. “When I’m out there, talkin’ to the team, I don’t want you to give quips like that. You’re better than that. Give strategy. Show ��em what you got. Okay?”

You nodded, words gone.

“You’re so fuckin’ skilled, baby.” His voice cracked. “And I’m so fuckin’ proud of you. First woman in the special forces? You’re a force to be reckoned with. Let’s go out there and show ‘em who you are. Got it?”

You smiled, blushing at his praise. He kissed your forehead and held you in his arms, ensuring you were alright.

He opened the door for you and walked along the hallway, his fingers tracing over your freshly spanked arse.

He kept his volume low. “I know you’re tough, but you sure you’re okay honey?”

You smiled, self-satisfied, and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“Yes, Staff.”

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simplyholl · 3 months ago

Text

Bitch!! I can not with you!!!

I knew this was gonna be hot but good lord. 🥵

"One more word honey and you're goin' over my knee."

Like how can he say this like it’s no big deal and keep talking strategy!!

"Palms on the desk. That's an order."

🥵 I squealed like a pig!!! I would be soaked!

You heard the whip of leather through Teflar as he pulled his tactical belt from his pants. You shivered as his breath kissed your ear and he whispered. "That's not what you're gonna call me today." He chuckled.

🔥🔥

My knees would buckle at how how hot this moment is no joke!

"If you so much as think of somethin' bratty, I'm gonna make you pay for it."

BITCH! 😅

With his belt!!! I am shook!!! This was so fucking hot I can’t deal!!!

Classic Conditioning - Steve Rogers x Reader 🍆

Contains: Spanking, Mean!Dom Steve and Soft!Dom Steve, verbal degradation, Military Kink, UK Special Forces lingo.

Words: 1,300

A/N: This is basically SAS: Who Dares Wins fanfic. I wish I was kidding. I'm appalled with myself. 😂

“Thanos threatens half the universe,” Vision stated. “One life cannot stand in the way of defeating him.”

The Captain’s gaze fixed on the table below him before looking up at the synthezoid with the saviour complex. “But it should.” He shook his head. “We don’t trade lives, Vision.”

You scoffed and muttered to yourself. “Since uhh.... when.”

Your stomach flipped. Did he actually just…?

Yeah. He fucking did.

It was widely known you had been on the run from the government for two years. Steve from his government. And you, from yours.

The team knew you as Steve’s partner in crime. His confident. His lover. That was no secret.

The sordid kinky details, however, had remained as classified as the formula for the serum that made your side piece the man he is today.

Now it was out in the open.

Wanda had cocked her head.

Thor raised an eyebrow.

Vision simply frowned.

The conversation about traveling to Wakanda continued as though secrets about your sex life hadn’t been blown into the air like flour, covering every surface. You weren’t having any of it.

“Steve, fucking hang on.”

He sighed and apologised to Vision and Wanda. “Give me a minute.”

Without another word he walked up to you, grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the room and around the corner, marching you down a brightly lit hallway on the other side of the bevelled glass wall.

“Steve what the fuck is wrong with you?”

He manoeuvred you into the wall. “We’ve talked about this, honey. No talkin’ back in front of the team.”

Your verbal protests were lost in the midst of Steve dragging you into a room at the end of the hallway. He closed the door with a thud.

“Hands on the table.”

“Are you fucking joking?”

“Honey. You might have abandoned your country.” He looked up at you like a disappointed father. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate you abandoning your training.”

“What?”

“Palms on the desk. That’s an order.”

You sighed but obliged, knowing better than to go to battle with Stubborn Sargent Steve. He was impossible when he was in army mode.

Blisters. Bleeding feet. Carrying men twice your weight. Twisted ankles. A sprained lower back. More cuts and bruises than you could count.

Five months of pure hell to pass SAS selection.

No. You hadn’t forgot. You told Steve as much.

“No…. what?”

“No, Captain Rogers.”

“You were given a number during your training, right?”

“Yes, Staff.”

“What was your number?”

“Number seven, staff.”

“Number seven. Give me the definition of classic conditioning.”

“Yes, Staff. It’s the process where a stimulus acquires the ability to trigger a response due to its repeated pairing with another stimulus. Like Pavlov’s bell.”

“Good, number seven.” He paused for dramatic effect. “That’s exactly what we’re gonna do today.”

That’s basic reward and punishment, you dumb fuck. Positive reinforcement. Not classic conditioning. Whatever.

“If you so much as think of somethin’ bratty, I’m gonna make you pay for it.”

Either he heard a scoff you failed to stifle. Or he was fucking psychic.

“Y-yes, Staff. I’m sorry, Staff.”

“Don’t let it happen again. Number seven, for talking back in front of the team, I’m gonna strike you ten times with my belt. After each one, you’ll say thank you staff. Understood.”

“Yes, Staff.”

Steve Rogers was kinkier than the British army.

And that was saying something.

He whipped you with his belt, each strike accompanied by your thanks. The leather stung through your jeans. By the final strike, you were gasping.

“Th-thank you, Staff…”

“Good work, number seven. Next. I wanna ensure you remember the core values of your regiment. Do you remember them, number seven?”

“Yes, Staff.”

“Pull down your jeans, number seven.”

“The four tenants of the British Special Forces. You’re gonna recite each one after I strike you with my palm. Understood.”

Fucking YES STAFF, you wanted to scream.

Instead you swallowed and answered demurely.

“Good, number seven. First tenant.” He struck you hard.

“Professionalism, Staff.”

“Good. Second tenant.” He hit your arse cheek with his palm. You gasped.

“People, Staff.”

“Third.” He struck you again, palm resting on your cheek and circling softly, an echo of his tenderness.

“Preparation, S-Staff.”

“Pride, S-Staff.”

You were boneless. Arms trembling.

Physically, you could take a lot. Your psychological pain threshold was even higher.

Steve chose not to push you. He asked you one final question.

“What is the most honourable value of the SAS, number seven.”

“The relentless pursuit of excellence, Staff.”

You felt denim smooth over your tender cheeks. Strong hands at the front of you, buttoning them back up. You felt his chest against your back. And his voice in your ear, soft and gentle.

“You’re the best, honey. Never forget that.”

He wrapped his arms around your chest and lifted you from the desk, large hands on your shoulders turning you to face him. He brushed the hair from your face, damp with sweat.

He cast a glance to the door. “When I’m out there, talkin’ to the team, I don’t want you to give quips like that. You’re better than that. Give strategy. Show ‘em what you got. Okay?”

You nodded, words gone.

You smiled, blushing at his praise. He kissed your forehead and held you in his arms, ensuring you were alright.

He opened the door for you and walked along the hallway, his fingers tracing over your freshly spanked arse.

He kept his volume low. “I know you’re tough, but you sure you’re okay honey?”

You smiled, self-satisfied, and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“Yes, Staff.”

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simplyholl · 3 months ago

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Holy shit! Can’t wait for this!!!

Crack headcanon: If you’re dangerously horny on a mission and you’re so worked up that it’s distracting you, would Steve sort you out?? In the name of team safety??? And he’s like really fast and efficient because you’re in the middle of a mission and he needs you back on form asap 🫠🫴

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simplyholl · 3 months ago

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I don’t think you’ve written it either! But I’m so excited for it!! ❤️

I'm working on a TVA-era fake dating multi-parter (3, 4, 5 - who knows) and I'm having so much fun I can't even tell you 🤣 It's so silly, and kind of glitzy, and Loki is...giving.

On the off chance you want to ask a question about this fic or anything in general - I'm all ears! I have a stretch of like 3 days with no plans other than Thunderbolts tomorrow (and work, but whatever) so yay! Back on my bullshit, for better or worse.

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simplyholl · 3 months ago

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Yayy! I’m a whore for fake dating!! ❤️

I'm working on a TVA-era fake dating multi-parter (3, 4, 5 - who knows) and I'm having so much fun I can't even tell you 🤣 It's so silly, and kind of glitzy, and Loki is...giving.

52 notes · View notes

simplyholl · 3 months ago

Text

When you said he had something painted on his face immediately I was like a rainbow! Then I read further and you said it too! 🤣❤️

I love how silly this was. It’s perfect!

All Too Well - Swiftie!Steve Rogers 🦄😂🥰🪶

Summary: Steve goes to see his favourite artist in concert, and he doesn’t want the team to know. Luckilly, being an Avenger has taught him to be stealth. Or has it?

Contains: Pure fluff and crack. Some light teasing.

Words: 2,000

A/N: Thank you to @simplyholl for helping me launch this madness!

Steve swiped his hand through perfectly coiffed blond hair and adjusted his aviator sunglasses. He smiled at himself in the mirror. His grin faded and he slid them off, placing them in the pocket of his brown leather bomber jacket.

“Put ‘em on inside, Steve. Put ‘em on inside.”

He brushed nervous hands down his thighs, careful not to spoil his jeans, which were tucked into brown army combat boots, shined to perfection. He cocked his head at his reflection. In Steve’s eyes he had literally never looked cooler.

He poked his head out of his bedroom, hands clutching the doorframe, slipping out and closing the door behind him silently. His iPhone glowed in his hand, the small car icon showing his Uber approaching the tower. He creeped towards the elevator, slipping behind a wall when a lanky agent almost crossed his path. He breathed a sigh of relief. The hand he clutched to his chest caught on something poking out of his jacket. He slipped out his sunglasses. “Ah! I can wear ‘em as a disguise.”

In his enthusiasm he bounded around the corner and smacked into a tiny, suspicious redhead.

“Rogers?” Natasha looked him up and down, her brows furrowing as she absorbed the intel in front of her. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, errr….” He crossed his arms. He felt like that nervous soldier again, defending his heroics in Asano. He scratched his head. “Oh, I’m err… just headin’ out and getting some food – groceries! Yeah. Groceries. I’m getting groceries.” He chuckled.

Nailed it.

Natasha smirked. She remained silent as she looked him up and down. “Have fun at the deli counter, Rogers.”

She sashayed off, swinging her hips and shaking her head. Counting to ten, she glanced back and drank in the sight of Steve leaning against the wall waiting for the elevator, his arms crossed as he looked from left to right.

He slipped into his Uber relatively unscathed. It was the waiting in the shadows of the lobby that did it, he was sure.

“Traffic is wild tonight, bud.” The driver made small-talk with his nervous passenger. “That damn Taylor Swift show has been in town all week. And it’s the last night.”

Steve pulled his leather jacket tight around his tshirt, hoping the Captain America logo wasn’t showing. At least the driver couldn’t see what was on the back.

“She’s pretty popular. Whole town’s out to see her! You picked a hell of a night to get groceries, pal.”

Steve cleared his throat and slid down in his seat.

“At least nobody’ll recognise ya!” The driver chuckled to himself at his little joke, turning up to the radio which was, predictably, a Taylor Swift classic.

She wears high heels, I wear sneakers

She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleechers

Dreamin’ ‘bout the day when you wake up and find

That what you’re lookin’ for has been here the whole time

Steve tapped his finger on his knee and mouthed the words, ceasing immediately when he noticed his driver’s eyeballs staring at him through the rear view mirror. The driver pulled up at the store. “You sure it’s this Whole Foods? The one right by Madison Square Gardens? Buddy you chose the busiest store in the whole of Manhattan!”

“Yeah.” Steve suddenly had something in his throat. “Yeah this is the one.”

The driver tilted his head “Buddy, I’m not here to judge, I just didn’t – ”

Steve was out of the car at this point, leaning through the passenger side window and handing his driver a crisp twenty. “Let’s keep this between us.” He walked off towards the stadium with the driver calling after him, “Hey you know it takes the money from your card, right!” Bribed by Cap? The driver shrugged. Wasn’t the weirdest thing he would see tonight.

Steve practically skipped through security, barely noticing a gratuitous pat down by the guard, and within mere moments he was surrounded by a swirling storm of giddy Swifties. He remained anonymous, leaning against a food truck and chomping on a juicy burger, the sauce dripping onto his t-shirt. “Shit.”

“Language!”

He frowned and looked in the direction of a brunette with an English accent. She was with a blonde who sounded like she was from the south. The other friend was clearly from Scotland. The Brit had clocked Rogers as he bent over and studied the menu on the side of the truck. She would recognise that arse anywhere.

“He’s not really a Swiftie, surely,” she said to her friends.

Steve absolutely wasn’t going to take that type of slander. He wiped the remaining burger juice from his lips with the back of his hand and walked over.

“You wanna say that a little louder?” He challenged the women with a playful smirk.

“There ain’t no way you like Taylor,” the blonde southern belle quipped.

“Oh yeah? What you wanna test that I know the words or what?” Steve’s arms were folded now. It made his biceps look enormous.

The Scot spoke up. An even bigger Swiftie than Steve, she had loved Taylor for almost two decades. She was hardcore. An OG. “Favourite song. Go.”

“All Too Well. I think it’s beautiful, really heartfelt. And I like the upbeat ones too. You Belong With Me and, urr… Shake It Off, obviously.”

The Scot frowned, unconvinced.

“And if you must know….” Steve looked down at his combat boots. “Down Bad has a special place in my heart.”

The Brit chewed on her lip, elbowed by her American friend. They were on the verge of laughter. “You’re down bad crying at the gym??” She looked him up and down.

“Yeah! How do you think my arms got so big??”

The women guffawed. He had them there.

“Okay okay okay. Would a fake fan do this?” He removed his sunglasses, then his bomber jacket. “Here, hold these.” He turned around and showed the back of his t-shirt, arms flexed and thumbs pointing down at his shoulders. The three of them were almost hysterical with mirth.

“Steve! YOU’RE JOKING!!!!”

“You’re a real one!”

“I can’t fucking believe it. I need a photo of this immediately.”

Emblazoned on the back of his blue Captain America t-shirt, the rhinestones shining in the New York sun, were the words:

MR. AMERICANA

An iPhone photoshoot ensued, each member of the group getting their shots. Steve included.

“Hang the fuck on. Tell me that doesn’t say what I think it does….” The Brit pointed to the base of Steve’s shirt. In small letters, complete with an arrow, was the phrase THAT’S AMERICA’S ASS. “Honestly I would ask to squeeze it but I don’t want to objectify you.”

Steve blushed at her request. She reminded him of her. Bold. Brunette. British. “Maybe later, huh?” He winked.

They parted ways with the Scot pointing and calling over a crowd of fans, “You better know the words to All Too Well! The ten-minute version. EVERY WORD, ROGERS!”

Steve saluted her and grinned and turned straight into a line of Swifties wanting a photo with him. In a blur of flashes and giggles, Steve found his forearms covered in friendship bracelets. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

He made his way to his seat and found himself next to his three new friends from earlier. The glow of the Manhattan sunset framed the stage and lit up the set pieces in ethereal light.

In a heartbeat the bassline dropped.

“ARE YOU READY FOR IT?”

The crowd of 80,000 were ready. And so was Mr. Americana.

Three hours passed in a blur of nostalgic songs, costume changes and nods to each Era. A personal highlight for Steve was his favourite, All Too Well. He proudly sung every single word.

The three women were transfixed by their star. Every now and again, the brunette would turn to watch Steve singing a particularly poignant lyric, changing the words slightly to fit him.

Lights, camera, bitch, smile even when you wanna die

She said she’d love me all my life

But that life was too short, breaking down, I hit the floor

All the pieces of me shattered as the crowd was chanting “more”

I was grinin’ like I’m winnin’, I was hittin’ my marks

‘Cause I can do it with a broken heart

She would smile softly and glance away, giving him the opportunity to enjoy this moment of fandom and anonymity. Until Miss Americana played and his face filled the jumbotron. The crowd, predictably, erupted.

Thor was the only one on the team who could truly fly. But Steve was sure he soared through the streets of New York to get home, swinging through the streets like that spider kid from Queens. He didn’t remember a single second of it.

He didn’t sleep a wink, lost in between his headphones and the songs he loved so much. He felt like he was a dorky teenager again. That part of him never really died.

Around 6am, he finally peeled off his embezzled t-shirt, stripped naked, and stepped into the shower. He dressed in a simple black sweater and a fresh pair of jeans. The pair from last night were covered in glitter.

He headed down to the meeting room, stopping by the shared kitchen and pouring a large mug of coffee. He sipped on the hot brew as Tony fiddled with his technology and the Avengers assembled in the boardroom.

“I have very important news.”

Steve rested a fist under his chin, seriousness enveloping him like a cloak.

“We had a serious security breach.” He tilted his chin down. “Know anything about this, Cap?”

“Security breach? No, Tony. Honestly. When was it?”

Tony began smirking. “Last night.” In a flourish of his hands, images appeared mid-air.

Images of Steve.

At the concert.

Every image of him had been shared on social media.

The photographs were everywhere.

Tony was fucking delighted.

“What, you didn’t see these?” Tony’s incredulous expression paired perfectly with his hand thumbing at the images on the wall. “You have other plans keepin’ you busy last night or somethin’. Huh? Mr. Americana?”

Steve covered his face with his hands. He was beet red. When he had a second to compose himself, he glanced at Natasha who sat beside him. “I’m guessing you put him onto this?” She shook her head.

“They went viral, Cap.” Tony announced with glee. He popped a blueberry in his mouth. “Everyone’s seen ‘em. Everyone.” Tony winked.

“I’m never gonna live this down, am I?” He leaned back in his chair and sighed.

“Oh, by the way – that little group you were with? Tracked ‘em down. Amazing what Jarvis can do when you’re sweet to him. They’ll be here tonight. We’re having a party. No prizes for guessing what’s on the playlist. You’re welcome, by the way. The brunette’s kinda cute.”

Steve groaned and closed his eyes.

When he left the meeting room he discovered Tony’s love of old school tech – printing off photos and blowing them up to the largest size imaginable. They lined every hallway Steve walked through.

It would be months before Tony stopped singing, “They whisper in the hallways she’s a bad, bad girl” every time he passed Steve in the hall. And he never really stopped muttering, “Hey, don’t worry about it Cap, just… shake it off” anytime there was a mere hint of a problem.

During their next mission, Steve had an ace up his sleeve. The team boarded the jet, covered in dust and sweat and the blood of their enemies. As the Quinjet ascended, the speakers blasted a song full volume.

Are we out of the woods yet?

Are we out of the wood yet?

Are we out of the woods yet?

Are we out of the woods?

Are we in the clear yet?

Are we in the clear yet, in the clear yet?

GOOD.

It wasn’t going away anytime soon. Steve would make sure of that.

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