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#Steve rogers
metalbvcky · 2 days
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Does anyone want to get out?
Elevator | March 27th Theme: Steve Rogers @catws-anniversary
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meidui · 2 days
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“It kinda feels personal.” | for @catws-anniversary ♡
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ace-bucket · 2 days
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CATWS Anniversary Day 2 - Camp Lehigh
@catws-anniversary
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yourbuckies · 2 days
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@catws-anniversary | Steve Rogers - Guilt
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incorrectquotesmcu · 22 hours
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Steve: That’s why we needed to get an expert.
Y/N: Oh really? Who did you get?
Steve, staring: …
Y/N: Oh! Right, that’s me... yes.
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ivuhe · 2 days
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Me when a character looks like they're one push towards the light
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stuckyfingers · 2 days
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CATWS 10th Anniversary | March 27th » Prompts: Motorcycle for @catws-anniversary
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midastouch013 · 2 days
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Stupid In Love
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Based on this request
Summary: Based on Stupid In Love by MAX
Warnings: None
I usually prefer Taylor Swift songs as a hardcore swiftie myself, but I do like this song and had fun writing this.
This has also got to be one of my longest one-shots yet
----
You lounged on the couch in the Avengers compound, idly flipping through a magazine while Natasha Romanoff, the infamous Black Widow, meticulously cleaned her weapons nearby. There was something oddly comforting about the rhythmic clinks and clatters of metal against metal.
"You know," you remarked, without looking up, "most people have hobbies that don't involve disassembling firearms."
Natasha chuckled softly, her focus still on her task. "Well, most people aren't trained assassins, darling."
You glanced up, meeting her gaze with a smirk. "Touché. But you could at least try knitting or something less lethal."
She set down her gun, finally turning her attention fully to you. "And risk losing my edge? I think not."
You laughed, shaking your head. "Fair point. Wouldn't want you to lose that edge, Natasha. It's what makes you so… dangerous."
Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "Dangerous, huh? Is that what you're into?"
You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Eh, I've always had a thing for danger. Keeps life interesting."
She smirked, moving closer until she was standing right in front of you. "Well, lucky for you, I'm full of surprises."
Your breath caught in your throat as she leaned in, her lips tantalizingly close to yours. "Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful," you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur, the words slipping out almost unconsciously as you found yourself lost in her gaze.
There was a flicker of something in Natasha's expression, a hint of shyness that you hadn't seen before. She seemed almost… flustered.
You cleared your throat, trying to push down the sudden surge of nerves. "'Cause feelings are so hard to fight," you continued, your voice a little stronger now, "Know it's a little soon, maybe," you added, your heart pounding in your chest, "But I'd go anywhere you take me. Long as you're calling me, baby," you finished, your voice soft but steady.
And in that moment, as Natasha's lips met yours in a gentle kiss, you knew that crazy or not, there was nowhere else you'd rather be.
----
Two Years Later
You sat together on the balcony of your shared apartment, the lights of New York City casting a warm glow around you, you felt a surge of affection for the woman beside you.
"Hey, Nat," you began, turning to face her with a playful smile, "Let's get married in Vegas."
Natasha raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Married in Vegas?" she echoed, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Yeah," you said, excitement bubbling up inside you. "We don't need a guest list, or fancy invitations. I don't wanna think too much," you continued, your voice eager and laced with anticipation. "Let's just do it, you know? Keep it simple."
A thoughtful expression crossed Natasha's face as she considered your suggestion. "I like the sound of that," she admitted, reaching out to gently thread her fingers through yours.
"And," she added, "Let's get matching tattoos while we're at it. I don't wanna think it through," she continued, her voice filled with the rare excitement at the prospect of marking the occasion in such a permanent way.
Your smile widened at your suggestion, a spark of amusement lighting up her eyes. "Matching tattoos, huh? I suppose I could be persuaded."
You grinned, feeling a surge of affection for the woman who had captured your heart, giving her a soft kiss. "Baby, I'm so stupid in love," you confessed softly, against her lips.
Natasha's smile softened, her gaze holding yours with an intensity that took your breath away. "I know the feeling," she murmured, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips.
You both sighed softly, a hint of disappointment lingering in the air.
"That's not happening anytime soon, is it?" you murmured, a touch of resignation in your voice.
Natasha shook her head, her expression reflective. "Unfortunately not," she replied, her tone tinged with regret.
You shared a fleeting glance, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. The demands of your roles as Avengers often meant putting personal plans on hold.
"But hey," you said, offering her a small smile, nudging her in the process, "at least we have each other."
Natasha's lips curved into a gentle smile, her eyes softening with affection. "Always"
So stupid in love with you (stupid in love, I'm so stupid in love)
I'm so stupid in love
So stupid in love with you (stupid in love, I'm so stupid in love)
I'm so stupid in love
---
The sun hung low in the sky as you waited for Natasha to return from her mission. The anticipation bubbled within you, and as you heard the familiar sound of her footsteps approaching, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement.
"Hi, you came," you greeted her with a bright smile, unable to contain your joy at seeing her safe and sound.
Natasha's eyes softened as she met your gaze, despite her tense shoulders, a fondness evident in her expression. "Babe, I've been waiting for you all day," she replied, her voice warm with affection as she closed the distance between you.
"So lean my way," you continued, reaching out to gently take her hand, "and let me just take away all the pain."
A soft chuckle escaped Natasha's lips as she allowed herself to be pulled into your embrace. "I know it's a bit soon for vows," she admitted, her voice soft but earnest.
With a mischievous twinkle in your eye, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a pair of paper rings, presenting them to her with a cheeky grin.
Natasha's laughter rang out, a melody that warmed your heart as she slipped one of the paper rings onto her finger, mirroring your actions. "Only you would come up with something like this," she remarked, her voice filled with affection. "Paper rings are good for now," she added, a playful glint in her eyes.
"But know, I'm already down the aisle," you grinned, as you gave her tense muscles a massage, "'Cause I'm so stupid in love."
---
A few years had passed since that day on the balcony when you had jokingly presented Natasha with paper rings. Now, standing side by side with her in front of your closest friends, you couldn't help but marvel at how far you'd come. The love between you had only deepened with time, and today, you were ready to take the next step together.
Clint and Yelena stood beside Natasha, offering her their unwavering support. Wanda, Bucky, and Pietro stood with you, their presence a reassuring presence in this intimate moment. Alongside them were Steve, Tony, Bruce, Kate, Peter, Pepper and America , each one there to celebrate your love.
You were dressed in a sharp suit, feeling a bit out of place but immeasurably happy nonetheless. Natasha, in a simple yet elegant dress that was far from a traditional wedding gown, looked radiant as ever.
The setting was lowkey, just as you both preferred. There were no extravagant decorations or elaborate ceremonies—just the people who mattered most to you, gathered together to witness your union.
As Steve, your friend and mentor, stepped forward to officiate the ceremony, your heart raced with anticipation. This was it—the moment you had been waiting for.
"Let's get married in Vegas," you whispered to Natasha, reminiscing on when you had dreamed of this together. "We don't need a guest list, or fancy invitations. I don't wanna think too much."
Natasha's eyes sparkled with joy as she met your gaze, a smile gracing her lips. "Let's do it," she replied softly, her voice filled with love and anticipation. "And let's get matching tattoos," she added with a playful grin. "I don't wanna think it through."
You grinned back, feeling a rush of love for the woman who stood before you. "Baby, I'm so stupid in love," you whispered again, tears of joy forming in both your eyes.
As Steve declared you as wife and wife, you both leaned in to share a sweet kiss, sealing your vows in front of your friends and loved ones.
After the kiss, you and Natasha exchanged a knowing look before slipping out of the ceremony, hand in hand. Together, you made your way to a nearby tattoo shop, where you sealed your bond with matching tattoos—a simple yet powerful reminder of the love that bound you together.
And as you left the shop, your fingers intertwined and the ink still fresh on your skin, you knew that this was just the beginning of your journey together. With Natasha by your side, you were ready to face whatever the future held.
--
After the whirlwind of your wedding day, you and Natasha found yourselves on a plane bound for Paris—a city of romance and enchantment, the perfect backdrop for your honeymoon adventure.
As the plane soared through the clouds, you couldn't contain your excitement, your heart fluttering with anticipation for the journey ahead. Beside you, Natasha's hand found yours, her touch grounding you in the reality of this new chapter in your lives together.
"Book a flight to Paris only one way," Natasha teased, a playful glint in her eyes as she leaned in closer to you. The words hung in the air, a bold declaration of your shared commitment to exploring the world together, accompanied by a hint of mischief that made your heart race even faster.
A smile tugged at your lips as you met Natasha's gaze, the depth of your love reflected in the depths of her eyes. "What'd you think about sharing our last name?" you teased back, your tone light and playful.
"I think I'd like that," she replied, her voice filled with mock seriousness, before breaking into a grin. It was a response that spoke volumes, a playful acknowledgment of the bond you shared and the joy you found in each other's company.
"Let's get straight to 'I do,'" Natasha continued, which led to you grabbing her by the waist and planting a firm kiss
"I'm sure we already did that babe"
"Mhmm" She mumbled against your lips, "And I'm so happy we did"
"And now its our honeymoon" you said, half reminding yourself that this was real.
"Hey, what do you say we skip the touristy stuff and go straight for the thrill? Bungee jumping off the Eiffel Tower, perhaps?" she proposed with a grin, her adventurous spirit shining through.
Your eyes widened in surprise at her suggestion, but a thrill of excitement coursed through you at the thought of experiencing such an adrenaline rush with Natasha by your side.
"Alright"you agreed
"Seriously?"
"I don't wanna think it through," you grinned, knowing that if you did think, you would probably not do it.
And later that night, while the whole of Paris was asleep, you found yourself on the top of the Eiffel tower, with a cord attached to you.
"Baby" you said as second thoughts began to race through your mind.
Natasha, however, paid no heed to your nervousness, shooting you a mischiveious smirk before plunging
"See you on the other side, babe."
"I'm stupid in love" you screamed as you followed, plummeting towards the ground below.
So stupid in love with you (stupid in love, I'm so stupid in love)
I'm so stupid in love
So stupid in love with you (stupid in love, I'm so stupid in love)
I'm so stupid in love
---
"You never listen to me!" Nat's voice rang out, "All you care about is yourself!"
The accusation stung, and before you could stop yourself, a retort slipped past your lips. "Maybe if you weren't so controlling, I'd actually want to listen!"
The words hung in the air, heavy with resentment and hurt.
"I can't do this anymore," Natasha finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we made a mistake."
The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and before you could stop yourself, you lashed out. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we never should have gotten married. Maybe I should've never even come home"
"Go, I never asked you to come," Natasha shot back, her tone cold and cutting.
"Yeah, I will," you replied, your words laced with defiance as you yanked open the door and stormed out into the night.
For a moment, the air was thick with tension as the door slammed shut behind you, the sound echoing in the empty room. In the silence that followed, both you and Natasha stood frozen, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air.
But as the moments passed, the gravity of what had just transpired began to sink in. And with hurry in her usually solicited footsteps, she rushed forwards to the door
At the same time, you turned around, pushing the door open, the soft click echoing in the silence of the room.
Without a word, Natasha stepped forward, closing the distance between you with hesitant steps. And as she reached out to you, a silent apology in her eyes, you knew that despite the hurt and the anger, your love for each other was stronger than any argument.
With a heavy heart, you took her hand, allowing her to pull you into a hug. Tears glistened in both your eyes as you held each other close, the weight of your words still lingering in the air.
"I'm sorry"
"I'm sorry too," Natasha murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "I never meant to hurt you."
You nodded, your own apology catching in your throat. "I know," you whispered back, your voice filled with emotion.
"But, I'm scared" she finally admitted, as she pulled away, her eyes searching yours for reassurance, "So tell me right now, before we come down,"
"Come down?"
"Can we make it work, baby?" she iterates
You grab her hands in yours, smiling at her softly" Let's find out."
Can we make it work baby? Let's find out
Tell me right now, before we come down
---
A Year Later, On Your Anniversary
Feedback echoed as you tapped on the microphone, drawing the attention of the crowd.
"Um, hi everyone," you began, your voice wavering slightly with nerves. "Thanks for being here tonight to celebrate with us."
You inhaled, " So, um-, I'm not the greatest at these kind of stuff, that's more of Tony's thing"
" I'm going to assume that's a compliment" Tony quipped, sipping on his glass of wine
"Assume whatever Stark" You quipped"
" So, uh-"
Before you could continue, Yelena's voice rang out from the crowd. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" she teased, a playful smirk on her face.
You shot her a playful glare. "Oh, absolutely," you retorted, your tone dripping with sarcasm. " I've managed to save your careless ass on missions, pretty sure this pales in comparison"
Wanda who had observed this playful banter, couldn't resist a playful jab herself. "You're not going to chicken out, are you?" she teased, a smile playing on her lips.
You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Of course not," you replied, a hint of amusement in your voice. "I'll make sure to add 'amateur singer' to my list of talents."
With a playful wink to Natasha, who watched you with a fond smile, you took a deep breath and addressed the crowd one last time. "Before I expose my singing skills , I just want to dedicate this song to the most amazing woman in the world—my beautiful, brilliant, and sometimes infuriating wife, Natasha,"
That earned you a playful glare from your gorgeous wife
" This is Stupid In Love, by, well, be me"
You strummed the first few chords on your guitar
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
There's something about your eyes
Tell me these feelings are mutual|
'Cause feelings are so hard to fight
Know it's a little soon, maybe
But I'd go anywhere you take me
Long as you're calling me, baby
They can all call us crazy"
Your eyes remained on Natasha's, her eyes, too, never leaving yours.
"Let's get married in Vegas
We don't need guest list
I don't wanna think too much
Let's get matching tattoos
I don't wanna think it through
Baby, I'm so stupid in love
Book a flight to Paris only one way
What'd you think about sharing our last name?
Let's get straight to "I do"
I don't wanna think it through
Baby, I'm so stupid in love
So stupid in love with you (stupid rather, so calm down, stupid in love, I'm so stupid in love, we could make it happen)
I'm so stupid in love
So stupid in love with you (stupid rather, so calm down, stupid in love, I'm so stupid in love)
I'm so stupid in love
Stupid in love with you (stupid in love, I'm so stupid in love)
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful"
Safe to say, that night, roles were reversed, and you were treated to the melodious voice of Natasha.
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howlingcommanddo · 21 hours
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Bucky: as top in this relationship-
Steve: i cannot believe your pulling rank on me.
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countessravengrey · 2 days
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Favorite Steve quote for Day 2 of the 10th Anniversary of Captain America: The Winter Soldier:
"Before we get started, does anyone want to get out?"
I love the moments before this fight, when he's watching all these guys get on and surround him, and we see, not Captain America, but Steve Rogers--who knows what being cornered looks like--catch on to what's about to happen. They may think they're fighting Captain America, but when he says, "Does anybody want to get out?" it's that skinny, scrappy little guy named Steve that's about to kick their asses.
In general, I love what this scene says about Steve Rogers, his resignation, determination, his stubbornness to see any situation through no matter how dire, and the big middle finger he gives to anyone who tries to take him out or stop him from doing what's right. Also the death wish factor when he jumps out of the elevator. It's gold.
@catws-anniversary
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hurtcomforted · 3 days
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When Steve loses Bucky, he thinks, What more could the universe take from me?
When he wakes up in New York, the universe answers. Everything.
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metalbvcky · 3 days
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endurance | March 26th Theme: On Your Left @catws-anniversary
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cockslutpadalecki · 2 days
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Hello
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Summary: You’ve given up on love. That is until a stranger walks up to you in a bar, and starts off a chain of events even you couldn’t dream up.
Characters: Steve x F!Reader.
Words: 1.2K.
Warnings: some angst, pregnancy/giving birth, mostly tooth-rotting fluff.
A/N: Formerly a Patreon exclusive. Based off of song of same name by Allie X. Definitely give it a listen. Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.
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It all started with a hello.
In the corner of a bar, you hurriedly swallow down the last of your now room-temperature rosè. Your date had stood you up. Again.
Last week, you’d made arrangements to go out for sushi, and he failed to show— coming up with some lame excuse about work commitments, forcing him to remain at his office. Then he called last night out of the blue asking if you were free, that he wanted to make it up to you. You gave him the benefit of the doubt, and agreed.
But of course, two hours have gone by without a word. After the first forty five minutes, you convince yourself that he’s still just running late— hoping he’s just caught up in traffic and can’t get to his phone. But once the big hand has surpassed ninety minutes, you’re adamant he’s done it again.
What is it with you always attracting these pathetic jockstraps? They either arrive and end up being the most pretentious, sexist creeps known to man, or they just don’t bother to show up in the first place. And that isn’t even counting the string of failed relationships that follow you like a bad smell. Men who, after only a couple of months, realize that commitment isn’t for them. Or maybe you weren't.
This is your last ditch attempt to find someone, in the hopes he wouldn’t turn out to be a complete jerk. After all, he had reached out to you for a reason— maybe he felt something more, a flicker of attraction you hadn’t picked up on yet? But the longer you sit alone, the more it becomes apparent that you’re destined to sit by yourself forever.
That’s how you ended up here, hidden away in the corner of the room, nursing a large glass of alcohol— or five. You don’t pay attention to anyone coming or going after a while, too preoccupied with your own sorrow to notice him enter.
-
He notices you though. Shielding yourself from the crowd, melancholy fraught in your features. He wonders what your story is— how you put yourself in full view of people, but still managed to remain so closed off.
He studies you as he sits at the bar, choosing the perfect spot to watch you without looking too conspicuous. Every woman that sidles up against him, batting their long eyelashes and flashing him a little too much cleavage, he politely turns down— nothing about them intrigues him. They have everything on show, thus the mystery he seeks is already gone.
Eventually, when he thinks you are getting ready to leave, he takes a chance and approaches you.
-
You’re unaware of the man’s presence until he’s stepping up to the table, clutching a full measure of amber liquid. And even through the dim light, his sapphire eyes sparkle, and his wide genuine smile almost blindsides you completely.
You half-expect him to ask if someone is sitting in the empty chair opposite you— ready to watch him walk away with it to the gaggle of women eyeing him up at the next table.
Whatever you imagine he’ll say, or what his voice would sound like in the few brief seconds are nothing compared to the deep husk, or the singular word that falls from his parted lips.
“Hello.”
-
Smoothing out the satin skirt of your dress, you glance at yourself in the mirror— taking in the intricate way your hair has been styled, and the subtle tones of natural make-up framing your eyes.
This is it. The moment you’ve dreamt of since you were a little girl. You should feel terrified that something could still go wrong— he could still walk away, but somehow the reassurance that’s been forged into your skull over the years reminds you, in his voice, that this is forever. Fate has prepared you for this. Fate has led you to him.
You suck in a huge breath before releasing it through your pursed lips, formed into the shape of an O. You can hear your mom on the other side of the door, her voice muffled but raised slightly as she talks to somebody in the corridor.
“You can’t go in there,” the older woman chastises. You don’t hear the response, if any, but a soft knock at the door gives you a pretty good idea of what it would’ve been.
Slowly, you glide over, pulling the door towards you as your heart hammers away inside your chest. For a moment you’re fearful you might throw up on your gown, but the second you catch sight of Steve’s azure gaze, the feeling subsides as quickly as it came.
He temporarily stands awestruck, before muttering, “Hello,” with the same wide grin that had you smitten the moment he approached you in that bar.
“Hello to you too,” you reply, matching his smile with your own.
“So, I was wondering,” he starts, taking a slow step towards you and holds his arm out for you to take, “if you fancied getting married today?”
You reach forward, hooking your arm through his. “Thought you’d never ask.”
He slowly escorts you back the way he’d come, and you catch sight of your mom tearing up as she steps back to allow you to pass, giving you a proud smile.
As you reach the stairs to take you down to the ceremony, you begin to loosen your grip around Steve’s elbow, but he places his spare hand on top of yours, giving you a light chuckle. “Don’t you let me go now.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
-
You’re certain the sound of that first tiny cry will stay with you forever— no matter how much time passes or how your memories may dwindle. You’ll hold onto it like the world’s most precious pearl, protecting it with every fibre in your being.
Laying your head against the mountain of pillows behind you, you let your eyes flutter closed for a second, somehow oddly comforted by the muted sound of nurses out in the corridor and beyond, before a deeper, more familiar voice floats amongst them.
“Can I see them now?”
You can hear the anguish in his tone, knowing how desperate he is to make sure you’re both okay after you were whisked away to recovery.
“Yes, of course Mr. Rogers, she’s right in there,” comes a light, friendly reply.
Steve suddenly appears from behind the blacked out door, the worried look etched into his features instantly melting away as his eyes catch yours.
“Hello.”
“Hello Daddy,” you whisper, casting your gaze down at the tiny bundle laid on your chest. Steve moves to stand beside you, and rests his hand gently on your forehead, stroking your temple with the side of his thumb— just like he always does.
“She’s perfect,” he sighs happily.
You glance up, flashing Steve a soft smile, before gazing lovingly back down at the little girl— your precious Pearl— noticing she’s inherited the same beautiful, cerulean eyes from him. “Yes, she is.”
Five years ago, you never would’ve dreamt this is where you’d be.
Steve may have found you sitting alone that night, but there hasn’t been a moment since that he ever left a chair beside you empty.
It’s finally real. I found my fantasy. Remember the day when I heard you say…
***
ALL CE: @buckymydarlingangel @broadwaybabe18 @captain-asguard @dreamlessinparis @deanwinchesterswitch @fandom-princess-forevermore @hurricanerin @kellhems @ladybug05 @mugi-chwan95 @navybrat817 @otomefromtheheart @oneoftheprettynerds @patzammit @rebel-stardust @sammykb1994 @syrenavenger @saiyanprincessswanie @sunwardsss @selfsun @vicmc624 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wintasssoldier @xoxonotme
4EVS: @amirra88 @andreasworlsboring101 @cheesyclaire @chibijusstuff @callsignrambam @dangertoozmanykids101 @daughterofthenight117 @doozywoozy @foxyjwls007 @geekofmanyforms @heyyouwiththeassbutt @ilovefanfic86 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @letsby @letsdisneythings @labella420 @mogaruke @maliburenee @notyourtypicalrose @obsessivelycapricious @patrick-hockslutter @princessmisery666 @phildunphyisadilf @sage-writing @sea040561 @sweeterthanthis @slutformarvelmen @smokeandnailz @stoneyggirl @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @thegirlnextdoorssister @wayward-dreamer @warriorqueen1991 @xoxabs88xox
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ace-bucket · 3 days
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CATWS Anniversary Day 1 - PTSD
Some Steve art for the first day of the @catws-anniversary event
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lokischambermaid · 24 hours
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Fugitive: Nomad Steve x Reader 🍆
Summary: In a barely-disguised ploy to keep warm while on the run, Nomad Steve pleasures you wearing his slutty fingerless gloves.
Contains: Nomad Steve who’s horny AF but also super safe and gives top-tier aftercare.
Warnings: Fingering, quickie, Steve being a little perverse.
Words: 1,300
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“Remind me to intercept a wire transfer from Stark next time we go on the run.”
The motel room was covered in years of dust, the brown windows thick with grime. A lone lightbulb hung from the low ceiling, its ruched off-white shade long-since pulled down during the final moments of a vodka-fueled bender, the faint stench of a stag party still hanging in the air and lodging itself into the pores of the woodchip-papered ceiling.
And more to the point, it was freezing.
Ordinarily the grounded, low-maintenance gent, Steve was tentative as he rested a forearm on the wall above the dirty window. He wrinkled his nose. “Well, at least no one’s gonna find us.”
“For a start off they can’t see through the glass, so.”
He stood straight, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his tactical suit. “That’s what I meant.”
“Was it a tactical decision, Rogers?” you teased.
His gaze raked up and down the yellowed wallpaper. “No. But it was cheap.”
You squatted down next to the radiator, careful not to kneel on the brown carpet, inexplicably spiky and hard as though something had spilled and dried out. You didn’t want to imagine what. Gloved hands turned the radiator dial. It spun underneath your hand.
Steve’s matter-of-fact tone drifted in like a cool breeze. “It’s broken. That’s why he gave it to us so cheap.”
“Well call me cynical if I don’t trust the word of a guy working the graveyard shift in a motel on the fringes of the sleaziest city in the country.” You continued teasing the loose radiator dial to no avail.
“You cold?”
“Freezing.”
“Come ‘ere.” The softness in his voice made you feel a solid ten percent warmer.
He leaned against the least grimy wall he could find, arms inviting you to press yourself against him. He stroked your hair, despite his voice taking on a darker tone. “You know in the army, we had a couple tricks to keep warm.”
“Oh yeah?”
“We used our body heat.”
“I like the sound of this, Rogers.”
He was, clearly, about to demonstrate. You stepped back to observe.
“First hot spot. Under the arms.” He wrapped his arms around himself, high across his chest, tucking his hands underneath his armpits. “Next, back of the knees.” He bent one leg up, placing his hand in the nook with a scissored hand. “Now, of course everyone knows the warmest place on the body.”
“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
He scratched at his beard, the backs of his fingers grazing his lips. “Well, I’m gonna need you against the wall.”
Silently, you complied.
“The warmest place,” he spoke softly as though sharing state secrets, kneeling in front of you as he spilled the intel. “Is…. here.” He slid his hand in the upper apex of your thigh. He whispered in earnest now, eyes wide as he gazed up at you. “Put your legs together for me.” When you obeyed, closing your thighs around his hand, he groaned.
“You getting warm there, Rogers?”
“Oh yeah….” His eyes were closed, lost in the sensation, the brown leather of his fingerless gloves visible only above the wrist, the bulk of his hand keenly swallowed by your flesh. “God…..”
He always did this. Right before.
The body of a soldier married with the heart of an artist, Steve was sensual. He loved sensations. Touch. Scent. Taste. And when he felt something that was particularly pleasurable, no matter how benign or platonic, he would close his eyes and he would moan.
Just like he was doing now.
Still kneeling, he looked up at you once more with devastating baby blue eyes framed by a head of messy dirty blond hair. “You gonna help keep me warm, comrade?”
“Is this what you did in the army?”
He blushed, head hanging, a gloved hand pressing against his thigh as he rose to his feet.
You would definitely ask him about his army stories later.
Not that you needed verbal foreplay. The sight of him like this was enough. Steve Rogers. America’s goldenboy. Reduced to a desperate man on the run.
A fugitive.
His clean-cut appearance disintegrating in time with his reputation, he wore a beard and messy hair. His hands were dirty. Literally. Figuratively. You recalled your first memories of the squeaky-clean soldier who joined the team, a squaddie so obedient he would raise his hand to be excused from meetings, even if it was to leave for two minutes to use the restroom. That man was gone. The brute towering above you would take what he wants. When he wants. With who he wants.
You swallowed, slickening at the thought. Arousal fluttered in your belly, breath following suit. The blond mercenary noticed the change in your breathing pattern. He closed the space between you, his body pressed against yours, hand long since discarded from the heat of your thigh. His right hand moved to the top of your zipper, sliding it down wordlessly as his eyes bore into your soul, while his left forearm pressed against the wall above your head, steadying him. His scent a heady mix of sweat and testosterone. You observed his chest rising and falling, his breathing deep, slow and steady.
Your zipper reached your waist. Tenderly, he cupped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. Ironic, given the debauchery you were about to partake in. Perhaps that was why. Perhaps it evened it out.
Perhaps you didn’t care.
Perhaps your brain went blank when he positioned his leg next to yours, the length of his cock pressed into your hip, clearly visible despite the thickness of his suit. Your brain rebooted, coming back online solely with the sound of him unbuckling his brown leather gloves.
“No,” you husked. “Keep them on.”
A sly smile crept onto his face, visible through the thick fibres of his beard. His eyes narrowed. Head cocked. “Kinky, huh.”
Both leather gloves touched your face, strong hands holding your cheeks as he kissed you firmly. Messy kisses, clashing teeth and ragged breaths gave way to the descent of his gloved hand, squeezing down past the zipper of your black tactical suit and into the heat of you.
“God, you’re wet,” he gasped between kisses.
His fingers were inside you within moments, digits penetrating you like a piston, the edge of his fingerless gloves catching your clit on way in, and out, in, and out…. your torso writhing up the wall, overcome by the sensation.
“Fuck,” he breathed, biting the bare skin of your clavicle. There would be marks hidden underneath your suit tomorrow.
He bucked his body into you, groaning, cock pressing into you and driving you to the brink of insanity and veering over the edge like a car on a dirt road, tumbling over the precipice and into the valley below.
You grabbed at the nape of his neck, clawing his skin with the tips of your fingernails, firmly pushing his face into the soft corner of flesh at the base of your neck. His fingers continued their attack, the leather relentlessly teasing your clit and causing heat to rise in your cheeks. He moaned as you pulled at his hair, the heat exploding in your belly like fireworks and bursting through your cells, the force of your climax plowing into you like a freight train. A lone ragged cry escaped your lips amidst the moans, the pleasure too much as he sealed the deal with a talented thumb over your sensitive bud.
You became weak, boneless, in the aftermath of his attention, collapsing into him, knowing he could hold you and trusting that he would. Your heart pounded, breathing fast as though you’d run 10k, head resting against his chest. He stroked your hair.
“Hey. It’s okay. Shhhh.” One firm hand held your back. The other cradled your head. Little hums of satisfaction tumbled from your lips. Eventually, after an age, you looked up. A smiling super spicy super soldier greeted you.
“Feelin’ a little warmer?”
“Warm? Cap, I’m on fire.”
Taggos: (Happy Easter, all! 🐣🪺🌸) @lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @flesh--amnesiacunrated @skymoonandstardust @alexakeyloveloki @cabingrlandrandomcrap @cakesandtom @mrs-illyrian-baby @muddyorbsblr @irishhappiness @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @glitchquake @dangertoozmanykids101 @animnerd @wavyhairedvixen @emarich7 @km-ffluv @thegodofnotknowing @simplyholl @acidcasualties @foxherder @salempoe @loz-3 @late-to-the-party-81 @mochie85 @loopsisloops @somewereinthegalaxi  @lokiandbuckysdoll @meg81589
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*Puts on my tinfoil hat*
What if it's not a coincidence that Marvel brought JM DeMatteis back for a solo minicomic featuring Steve grieving Arnie Roth last year, or that Bucky mentions Steve having had an ex-boxer friend named "Chick", or a new Cap comic run featuring Steve's childhood?
What if this is all leading up to them *finally* confirming Steve as queer???
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