#captain america plush

[groovy-lady]

Wooooooo I went to Universal Studios today!!!! It was so fun!!!!!!

[hautecoldture]

Tony & Steve plush are ✨NOW LIVE!✨

Sometimes when you want a thing you just gotta make it yourself :D

I've always had a soft spot for ol' Winghead & Shellhead; they're my longest-running comics OTP. I designed to combine my favorites of Steve's looks - a mashup of Commander Rogers & his Winter Soldier stealth suit - and a similar mashup of a few Tony designs mixing classic comics & MCU.

These are part of a small and limited batch of sitting plush convertible keychains - they can either chill where you set ‘em, or you can attach the included keychain and bring them with you wherever you’d like!

Available only in my Etsy shop 💙

If you get them, I hope you adore them (and please share if you take any action shots!!)

[onbearfeet]

It's almost Pride Captain Abearica season!

For those who don't know, one of my bear models is Captain Abearica, whom I'm happy to make in the colors of just about any pride flag people ask for. (I say "just about" because the full rainbow and progress flags have too many colors to map well on a tricolor bear design.) I can even add carrier loops on the back so you can clip your bear to a carabiner, your bag, your sash, etc. Because Captain America would absolutely march in your pride parade if you let him. (This whole thing started when I needed an emotional support bear to take to my first Pride, which I was attending alone.)

Because it takes me a couple of weeks to make most bear orders, it's a good idea to order in April or May to make sure your Captain arrives by June.

Here are a few more...

And yes, I'm willing to at least try making other bear designs in pride flag colors; I made a trans pride Spider-Bear once that was just adorable. Send me a message here or on Etsy to request a bear design in your flag's palette.

If you'd like to order a Captain Abearica of your very own, here's the link!

[nightengaleneedles]

This puppy Captain American was commissioned to be friends with a Bucky Bear! How sweet!

[marumeri]

sam is kirby that show by the tag of plush .....

(but im not know new falcon still now.....)

[aliexpress-findings]

[bootlegspidermanmerch]

Man the new Avengers movie looks great

[piratesfromspace]

Just Like Old Times (Price x Reader + poly141)

Pairing: Reader x Price (& Reader x 141) Rated: Mature Word count: 2.9k Summary: A cottage in the snow. A Captain you knew in another life. His rugged and attractive men. Will you let them into your life? Note: This is a fic I wrote for @literatecowboy for the Secret Santa event organized by @bunnyreaper! I tried to make something soft and sweet and it's taking place during the winter, it's not smutty but if you like it, I can make a part 2 with some action 👀

EDIT: we have a PART 2!!

Content: ex-military!fem!reader, mention of food & alcohol, a little bit of angst but it’s mainly fluff, smoking, flirting, praise kink, sharing body heat

MASTERLIST // PART 2

It had been Laswell’s idea. 

The team needs to be ready for snow conditions, do whatever you think is best. You have 3 weeks. And I’m talking extreme weather, Price, not a little trip to your local ski resort.

Those had been the instructions Kate had delivered to an unphased Price.

He knew it was only a matter of time before this kind of mission would be required from them. Of course, the men of the 141 have already trained in the cold of England, have seen and tested the winter gear. But Laswell is about to send them somewhere at the very East of Europe, and there is a small difference between surviving winter in London and surviving winter in places where the cold could kill you in minutes if you didn't have the proper equipment or knowledge. Over there, more than usual, tiny mistakes could have big consequences. And Price would rather not have his team freeze to death because of a lack of training. 

It’s December and the month is cold already. But it’s nothing compared to the cold Soap feels when he steps out of the helicopter. It’s like Price has picked the coldest place he knows in America. He’s pretty sure they are somewhere in Wyoming or Montana, the only thing he can see are mountains all around them. Spruce and fir trees sprawl in dark patches contrasting with the stark white of the snow covering everything. He crosses the large glade to reach the tree line, as the helicopter takes off, sending the fresh snow flying in every direction. The sky is a light gray, and while the whole scene is stunning - makes his head spin with equal awe and wonder thinking about nature’s force and brutal beauty - it means there is no sun to warm his face. 

“Come on soldiers, let’s move, we still have a two-hour hike to reach our B&B!”

“You mean someone will be there to make us breakfast Captain?” Soap chimes, unbridled joy coming through his voice at the prospect of warm home-made meals instead of MREs.

Price has a hard time hiding a smile as he starts walking on the thin winding path, only recognisable for those who know it’s there. ”There will be someone, but I’m not sure they will cook for you, Sergeant.”

Ghost lets out a dry chuckle and follows the steps of their Captain, leaving Soap and Gaz a bit puzzled.

❄️

The sun is already setting when you hear loud voices outside, and soon after a series of knocks on your door. You’re a little stressed when you rise from the floor in front of your fireplace to go open the door. You have agreed to shelter those 4 soldiers for 3 entire weeks only as a favor to Price. An old acquaintance who saved your life, a decade earlier, before you left the field to heal your wounds - body and mind. The large wood cabin had been your home for a few years already. You keep it open for women like you, in need of time away from the world, although it’s pretty rare they come during winter time when the road is blocked by snow. It’s an old building, but well-kept and you made it as cozy as possible, all warm natural tones, plush carpets on dark wood floors, dark gray stones in the bathrooms. 

You welcome them with a soft smile, delighting in their surprise - seems like John had not told them he planned on using your cottage as a back-up base for this training expedition. John’s team members are not really what you expected: there is one Scott with a mohawk that seems simultaneously annoyed and happy to be there (he has terrific blue eyes), a young and calm brown-haired Brit (he’s really cute, like movie-star cute), and a behemoth with a literal skull mask (his size alone has your head spinning). You can’t complain about them though, as they are polite and friendly, praising your home - and for sure taking in the comfort and warmth one last time before heading off for days of rudimental camping in the icy woods. You don’t envy them, remembering that one mission you did in Siberia when you were still in active duty, that wasn’t really fun. They settle in their rooms easily and you all share a quick dinner you had cooked - except for the masked giant. The banter goes fast between them, especially after you offer them beers. You like being alone, but you have to admit they are fun to be around.

❄️

The living room is silent and dark, the only light coming from the fireplace across your couch. After dinner, you had trouble finding sleep in your room, so you went to read a bit in front of the fire. But you must have dozed off, because you wake up suddenly, gasping, arms flailing, sitting up immediately. Your frantic eyes, wide open, scan the room for the reason of your awakening, survival instinct going overdrive. Someone is standing in your living room, frozen in place on their way to the front door. It’s the behemoth with the skull mask - the scariest of them all, of course.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” he apologizes. In the darkness of the room, it looks like his jaw is not even moving beneath the dark fabric covering the lower half of his face, like the sound just pours out of him or like he’s speaking directly inside your head. He might actually, you’re not entirely convinced the giant is not some sort of supernatural being John brought back from a cursed battlefield. It’s unnerving to say the least. 

“I’m sorry, it- it happens sometimes, I can’t help it, my instinct thought you were a threat…” you blurt out before realizing you may have offended him in some way by implying he’s not worthy of your trust. But instead of scoffing, he lets out a thoughtful hum, lowering his head to look at his boots, almost sheepish. 

“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” His voice is low, calm, and at the same time you can feel something else, sadness, maybe disappointment, in what or who, you’re not sure.

“Care for a smoke?” he offers after a beat of silence, nodding to the front door. You don’t smoke anymore, cut the nasty habit years ago. That’s why you don’t know what compels you to accept, but you’re not gonna be able to sleep now, so you follow him outside, grabbing your coat on the way. 

You half expect him to smoke through the mask, but he pushes the fabric up enough to reveal a strong jaw covered in light stubble, and plush lips. So he’s human after all. The slick and heavy storm lighter looks ridiculously small in his giant hand when he lights his cigarette. He takes a deep puff before handing it to you.

“Sorry, last one.”

Your fingers graze his, and you bring it to your lips to drag a small puff that immediately makes you cough.

“You ok?” he rasps, humor tilting the corner of his mouth upwards.

“Yeah, it’s been a while, that’s all” you provide. He hums in approval at your explanation. 

When you hand him the cigarette, you take a moment to look at his mouth, the way his throat works when he inhales, the way the silver smoke dances between his open lips and fades into the night sky. Something warms your gut when you realize his lips are set just where yours had been a few seconds ago. 

You don’t know what’s more attractive, this or the fact he doesn’t try to make conversation for the sake of it. He doesn’t bother to explain why he couldn’t sleep and felt the need to smoke at 3 in the morning. He knows you understand. You are just glad to bask in the soft noises of nature at night - wind in the threes, the hooting of an owl. Fuck, you’ve been alone up there for too long to thirst on John’s colleagues just like this, just a few hours after their arrival. You shake your head, driving out the thought, and take the cigarette again from his fingers.

❄️

The next morning, you wake up pretty early after a short night, only to find one of them - the pretty one, Gaz - is already fixing coffee in your kitchen like he belongs there. You honestly could get used to this. The thin long sleeves of his shirt are doing nothing to conceal the muscles underneath, rolling as he’s going about this mundane task of preparing breakfast. His kind eyes and soft voice when he asks for your choice of eggs makes your heart flutter with a yearning for this kind of intimate domesticity you had never really allowed yourself up until then. It’s kinda concerning, at this rate you’re gonna ask one - all? - of them to stay with you in your cottage instead of going back to whatever missions at the other end of the world. 

The rest of the day is not making you change your mind. Price had asked if anything needed their help around the house, and you gave them the tedious task of moving the gigantic pile of wood logs stocked at the other end of your garden closer to the house. It would have taken you days to do it by yourself. But by lunch time, the pile had dwindled to a fifth of what it was thanks to the hard work of the four men. The two younger ones were down to their long-sleeve compression shirts despite the cold, sleeves rolled up their elbows, showing off strong forearms, various scars slashing across the discreet swirls of black ink from old tattoos. Some disappear under the black gloves they are all sporting. Sweat plasters the fabric of their shirts to their shoulders and chests. You can’t deny they look fucking good. 

You had accepted Price’s demand without much after-thought, but now you couldn’t be more happy about it, ogling those four rugged men laboring away for you. Despite being older than his men, Price is far from looking bad. He’s built like a brick house, a healthy layer of fat covering muscles he’s been honing for two decades. Dark hair peaks from the open collar of his jacket, your eyes follow the line of the thin garment which is hugging his tapered waist, down to his thick thighs. Fuck. You remember what it was like to be close to him - literally and figuratively. He was your colleague, an equal, a couple years older than you but you shared the same rank. He was a mentor, a friend, a lover - only briefly, after that fateful mission where he saved your life on the field. You parted ways in good spirit after you announced that you wanted to retire, needed to get your head straight before committing to anything. Today, you ask yourself if maybe you could take this back from where you left it.

❄️

You want to train with us today, love? Just like old times.

Price had asked you the question the next morning and you had not been hard to convince. It was more about being able to look at them than to train your body, but they didn’t need to know that. Even if you keep a pretty healthy lifestyle, you can’t compete with elite soldiers, and by the fourth set of push-ups, your arms are giving out. You’re about to stop and reach for your water bottle, when Price notices. 

“Come on, you can do five more, I’m sure!”

You groan in response, but you go back in position.

“Breathe, love. Back a little more straight. Elbows in. That’s it… Good.” 

Price’s deep voice is calm as he’s encouraging you, gently correcting your posture.

“Don’t look down, chin up. Perfect, you’re doing good.” he goes on, and you cheeks warm under his praise, enough to make you forget the stinging cold. Your whole body is clenched with the effort, you’re letting out little cries with each push-up, your muscles are hurting, but you want nothing more than to make the captain proud.

“Just one more. Done! You did great darling, I’m impressed.” 

He helps you get up on shaking legs and when you almost stumble, he secures you upright against his chest, keeps you there for two seconds more than he should for it to not look intentional. When you raise your head, you’re suddenly so close to his face, blue eyes staring down at you with a glint in them you can’t ignore. You reluctantly part before reaching for your water bottle again, playing coy.

The three others are not oblivious to the little game between you and Price. You notice how they exchange knowing looks and little smiles whenever you both interact. Worst, they also seem to pick up on your love for being praised and soon enough they take every excuse to whisper how good your aim still is during target training, or how smart you are for knowing everything about the local fauna during your afternoon hike. It never sounds like they’re mocking you though, never feels like it’s not genuine. It’s not fair, really. At this rate, you don’t know how you’re gonna survive living under the same roof with four attractive men for three entire weeks. 

The answer to this torture of yours is revealed quickly. After a few days of acclimatization at your cottage, Price and his men are ready for a long expedition higher in the mountains, with just tents and even a short surviving-in-extreme-cold workshop. They will be gone for at least ten days. You watch them pack their gear and leave your place with a pinch in your heart you couldn’t expect when you first opened your door to them.

❄️

Days go by, pretty uneventful, until your heating system breaks down. It’s not the first time since you’re leaving up there, it’s not that scary but you’ll have to wait a few days for the repair team to come by. In the meantime, you resort to live and sleep in your living room, where the fireplace provides enough heat to keep you warm in the heart of the winter.

They come back the day after that, and when you see their silhouettes emerging from the treeline, just before the sun sets down, you can’t prevent your lips to form a smile so big it hurts your cheeks after a couple minutes standing in the biting cold. 

The fondness in Price’s eyes is not dulled by the news your heater is out of order, nor is the relief on Soap’s and Gaz’s faces at the promise of a solid roof and comfy beds after days of rudimentary accommodations.

You all work to prepare some food, and to bring a couple mattresses with all the duvets you can find in front of the fireplace - the only sane solution for you all to sleep without suffering too much from the freezing temperatures. It reminds you of your years of service, when you sometimes had to share a single room with your whole squad - you’re not missing the stress and the harsh living conditions, but you’re definitely missing the camaraderie, the jokes and fits of laughter, the bodies of trusted people around you. 

They leave you the couch - gentlemen that they are - the objectively most comfortable option, but once again you can’t find sleep. The piece of furniture is the farthest away from the fire, and you’re on your own, no one next to you to share body heat with you. 

It’s only because I’m cold. That’s the poor excuse you give yourself - and the one you whisper to Price - when you step down from your couch to seek a place under the cover next to John. He’s sleeping next to Gaz; Soap and Ghost are sharing the other mattress. You slide yourself against him, immediately melting into his chest, the man radiating heat like it’s his only purpose in life. He doesn’t even have to ask you if it’s okay to hold you against him because you plaster yourself to him and nuzzle against his chest, old habits taking over your sleepy brain. A sense of safety and comfort envelopes you at the same time his warmth does. You forgot how good it felt to be in his embrace, to be tucked against his broad chest, surrounded by his smell - manly, ambery wood, and the rich spice of his cigars. 

He chuckles silently as you settle at his side and let out a little content sigh. He missed that too, he won’t say it out loud, but having you like this, soft and pliant in his arms, it makes him wonder how he could be such a fool for not seeking you sooner. He suddenly wants to kiss you, to make you feel good, here and now, no matter the fact his men are sleeping just a few inches from you. Should he care? He’s not blind to the fact you spend a good amount of time leering at them since they’re here, and to the fact they are watching you back. He can not ignore the shameless flirting going on between all of you five actually. John has never really been in a situation like this, doesn’t know where this will lead him - where this could lead them. But he’s ready to follow you. He takes a deep breath before he talks. 

“Just like old times?” He asks, voice low, chest vibrating with it under your palm. 

Just like old times… The words echo in your head, echo in your heart. He gives you the opportunity to lead him - to lead them - wherever you wish.

“Just like old times.” You repeat back to him, before you capture his lips in a gentle kiss.

PART 2

[malum-forev]

A Place I Once Called Home

Summary: The four times Bucky showed up at your place unexpected. 

The first time Bucky came stumbling into your apartment was a few weeks after he moved into the building. You’d been living in New York for quite some time so you weren’t oblivious to The Avengers and the fact that they resided in the same apartment complex. It was actually one of the reasons you paid the premium for living there. So what if your landlord hiked up the rent twice a year and there were some broken windows thanks to aliens trying to get to the superheroes when they’re least expecting it, right? It was all in the name of safety. Or so you thought.

Your friends had left hours ago, and although you loved your weekly wine and cheese night you sometimes hoped they would stay after to help you clean the dishes. You hummed along to the song that was quietly playing, the small speaker filling your whole apartment. At first you thought the rattling you heard was part of the melody. But a chill went through your spine as you heard a loud thump at your door, making you almost drop the wine glass into the soapy water. 

As you dried your hands and walked towards the door there was another loud bang against your door. You clutched the baseball bat hidden behind your TV, a lovely present from a misogynistic ex-boyfriend. He’d thought it be ‘cute’ to show you how to hold a bat. There’s only one fucking way to hold a bat you mansplaining son of a- bang! 

‘You don’t have time to think about this right now!’ You scolded yourself. 

You peered through the peephole to find two male figures trying to pick your lock, the handle rattled. 

One, two, three deep breaths and you opened the door, bat clutched and ready to hit anything and everything. A woman ready for battle, adrenaline rushed through your veins, blood rushing to your head. But before you could even unleash your first swing, one of the men dropped near your knees with a thump and a groan. Half of his body inside your apartment while his long legs sprawled across the hallway. 

“Buck! You said your apartment was 213!” The man you soon recognized as Captain America said, shooting you a ‘You have no idea how sorry I am’ face with reddened cheeks. 

You stood inside your apartment with mouth agape as you watched one of Earths Mightiest Heroes struggle to pull another super up from your floor. 

“Miss I am truly sorry to have interrupted you.” Captain America apologized. “I’m Steve and the man who is currently petting your slippers is my friend Bucky.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked down at the man known as the Winter Soldier running his hand through the fur of your plush husky shaped slippers.

“I’m more of a cat guy but these two doggies look friendly. What-“ he hiccupped. “are their names?”

His steel blue eyes followed yours as Steve picked him off the floor and leaned him against your doorframe. 

“Ma’am, are you okay?” It was until Steve asked you the question that you realized you hadn’t answered.

You shook your head to try and reset your brain. “I’m sorry, yes I’m good it’s just that- well I know some superheroes live here I just didn’t think two Avengers would come knocking on my door. 

“I’m not an Avenger.” Bucky grumbled, closing his eyes for what he thought was a second. What actually happened was that he lost his balance and ended up falling forward into you. It took all of your strength to not topple over. 

“For fucks sake.” Steve muttered under his breath, he usually didn’t swear but his best friend was making his patience wear down, as he peeled Bucky off of you.

“You smell really nice.” Bucky slurred with a loopy smile. 

 “Just to wrap things up, we’re extremely sorry for trying to break into your apartment, for probably scaring you half to death and for anything and everything Bucky’s said.” Steve smiled before turning right and lugging his friend down the hallway.

“His apartment is down this way!” You said pointing to the left side. “216, on the other side of the hall.”

“Thank you ma’am. Have a good night.” Steve huffed hiking up Bucky’s arm on his shoulder, as they passed your apartment again. 

“Thank you pretty lady.” Bucky said with a singsong tone and a wink. 

The second time you found Bucky in your apartment was a few weeks later. He had walked past your door a total of six times in the last few hours. The mission was to give you an iced coffee for your troubles the other night. And as of today, he was two weeks and four days late on completing the mission. The original plan was to stop by the day after he’d drunkenly showed up at your door, but the anxiety and panic that had settled into his bones made him jump back into his place anytime he heard your door open.

“What if she doesn’t drink coffee? She’ll think it’s disrespectful of me to bring her that.” He convinced himself. So the only logical thing to do was to follow you around for a couple of days. Maybe this way he would find out your exact order and get it right. Not telling his therapist what he was up to would be smart. 

After a few days he got your order right and even found out what kind of flowers you liked. 

Days passed and the petals from the bouquet he bought started falling off, the ice on your coffee was long gone. Another worried crease appeared on his forehead as he contemplated walking to your apartment with nothing in his hands but no, the pretty lady with the beautiful eyes he thought he’d only dreamt about deserved more. 

So here he was, a new coffee in his right hand and a bouquet of flowers on his left one. But before he knew it, another problem raised. How the hell was he supposed to knock on your door. Was he supposed to use the right one and spill your coffee or would he have to hope that by using the left one the petals wouldn’t drop. He was about to abort the mission completely but then he heard your lock turn. 

With each second that passed, and God did he feel like millions passed, he grew more nervous. Was his hand actually sweating? That hadn’t happened since before he enlisted. 

But once you opened your door with that cheeky smile of yours, everything seemed to disappear.

“Should I be concerned about this habit of yours? Do you always lurk around women’s doors?” 

One sentence, that’s all it took for him to turn into putty. A useless puddle around your feet, begging for more of you, anything you’d give him. 

“I only lurk around the ones who I owe an apology to.” Bucky licked his lips, bringing forward the contents in his hands.

“Hmm, my orders exactly. Did you get lucky or did someone help you out?” You smiled at him as you took both gifts and walked back into your apartment. Bucky took you leaving the door open as an invitation. Did you always do this or were you letting him in because there was something unique? He urgently needed answers because in just a couple of minutes you’d already managed to make him feel special. 

“I’m a good at apologies and buying gifts.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, eyes glued to the floor. 

You bit the inside of your cheek. “You’re a pretty good liar but terrible at hiding. You’d think being a super-secret spy assassin would make you stealthy.”

His eyes widened first at your words then at your laughter. The sound rang in his head like a beautiful melody. 

“I saw you following me a couple of days ago.” You smiled, placing the flowers in a vase full of water. “In the coffee shop down the street, in the flower shop. I even saw you in the library, I’m almost positive you were reading a book upside down!”

The blush crept from the back of his neck up to the apples of his cheeks. 

“I wanted to make sure I got you the right coffee.” Bucky mumbled, his one chance with you and he’d blow it. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You trapped your bottom lip with your teeth as his body perked up hearing your words. 

“We can start again.” You held your hand out and told him your name. 

The third time was a month after the apology. In the last four weeks, the two of you had been spending every possible single second together. It started when you ‘accidentally’ came out of your apartments at the same time. Bucky would never admit that he was looking through his peephole and waiting for you to turn the knob on your door. 

“Good morning.” Bucky said with a fake yawn, acting like he hasn’t been up since 5:05am. He stretched his arms a little more than he had to, making sure you could catch a glimpse of his toned body under his dark t-shirt. Bucky knew he’d missed out on many things but flirting with you came naturally. “Do you know any good coffee places around here?”

You smiled at his obvious antics blushing like a schoolgirl. “There’s this place around the corner.”

Your morning coffee turned into a morning run and then coffee ritual, then breakfast was added. Afterwards, lunch at 12:30 and dinner at your house every Thursday. Which turned into dinner at alternating apartments every day of the week. 

But today you truly weren’t expecting him.

“I’ll see you on Monday okay? Coffees on me?” He’d mumbled against your hair two days ago, your body wrapped in his arms. “I just gotta go on this mission but I promise I’ll be back before our run.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, it felt like a bunch of thorns prickling your neck. In just a few short weeks he’d become an integral part of your life. You realized it was stupid to feel like this about someone who’d never even said he liked you but you couldn’t help but fall headfirst. “Please be safe.” 

He tilted your head up towards him and ran his knuckles down your cheek. Your soft skin soothed his rough hands. He couldn’t believe someone as angelic as you would even look at someone like him. His troubled mind and his past didn’t seem to affect you. You just saw him. For the first time in forever he felt scared to go to a mission, knowing he had something to lose. 

“I’ll be back sooner than you think, doll.” He smiled as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. 

Now, you found yourself being woken up by two soft knocks on your door. 11:45 pm on Sunday night. You must’ve fallen asleep on your couch, your TV asking you ‘Are you Still Watching?”

A bruised and bloody Bucky greeted you as you opened your door. A gasp escaped your lips.

“That bad huh?” Bucky chuckled, leaning against your doorframe. 

You dragged the Winter Soldier into your small bathroom and sat him on the edge of the tub, grabbing your first aid kit from underneath your sink. You sat in front of him, scooting your knees to rest on the inside of his legs, wiping the blood off of his cut lip. 

“Do you always come home like this?” You asked, throwing away another antiseptic wipe into the bin.

“I usually go to the med bay after missions.” Bucky shrugged, his eyes never leaving yours.

A worried look took over your features. “Why didn’t you go this time?”

“I made you a promise. If I’d gone all the way over there I wouldn’t have been able to make our run tomorrow.”

Your whole body fluttered and you couldn’t help yourself. You took Bucky’s face in your hands and you smashed your lips to his. Bucky held the back of your neck as he followed your lead. He kissed like a man starved, your kisses felt like the sun shining in the middle of a snowy winter. It lit him up inside. Before you knew it, you were dragging him from the bathroom into your bedroom, bumping into various furniture but not caring.

You only separated to take his shirt off. 

“Wait!” Bucky said, his jagged breath didn’t stop him from unbuckling his belt with one hand while the other was already working on the button of his jeans.

You tugged your shirt back down. “You want to stop?”

A loud laugh ripped through his chest. “No! God no. I was just going to ask you if we could keep our kisses to the left side of my mouth.” He pointed at his bruised lip.

You bit your bottom lip. “I think I could do that.”

He could come undone just by looking at you. Your sweet face only spoke words of temptation and he was more than happy to convert. 

The fourth time came eight months after he’d asked you to be his girlfriend. Everything had been great up until a month ago when the days started getting longer and the disappointment grew deeper. 

You’d arranged a special dinner with Bucky since he’d been working late recently and now he was three hours late, again. The food had already been in the fridge for a while and the candles blown out. 

He found you sitting on the fire escape when he came into the apartment, the faint smell of cigarettes lingered. 

“I thought you said you’d quit smoking a long time ago.” Bucky tried to joke but his words sounded harsher than he’d intended. 

“This isn’t working.” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Bucky chuckled, shoving a forkful of cold pasta into his mouth. “Of course it’s not working, you keep an old pack of cigarettes in the closet.”

He choked on a loose noodle as he saw your tear-stained face. You wiped your cheeks, your whole face felt hot. “You and I, Buck. We’re not working.”

This was it, the moment he’d been preparing for. He knew you would break sooner or later, who in their right mind would want to have an actual relationship with him. Someone who has to constantly sacrifice dinners and anniversaries, someone who risks his life on a daily basis, someone who risks the lives of loved ones on purpose. 

A few weeks back, he’d been interrogating someone linked to the Flag Smashers when he’d heard the words he’d been dreading. Your name slipped out of them like venom. They’d found out about his secret, Bucky had been guarding your love with his life but it wasn’t enough. You’d always be in danger with him.

But he couldn’t bear to leave you so he took the cowards way out. Spent more time at the compound, trained longer and drove mindlessly for hours, all so you would think he was busy with work or that he didn’t care. Maybe one day you would get tired and leave him because he sure as hell couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes and tell you it’s over.

And although he was expecting these words to come out of your mouth sooner or later, it still broke him. His heart fractured like porcelain, a deep hurt brewed in his body like a deep pit somehow appeared in his stomach.

“I understand.” He whispered, gluing his arms to his side because if he so much as touched the aura around you, he would drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. “I come with a lot of baggage and my job doesn’t really help so, I understand.”

A dry laugh escaped you, the sadness in your eyes turning into fury. “I knew what I was getting into when we started dating Buck. I knew you had hundred-year-old baggage weighing on you like a ton of bricks. I was also aware of your job description and even though I fucking hate seeing you hurt- and you have no idea how much it physically pains me to see you come through that door with a black eye and broken everything, I know it’s something I have to get over. Because I was willing to be with you, all of you.”

“We could have been like this forever, happy and in love. And every single day I would open that door and listen to the shit you have to put up with from all the people who don’t know you and clean your wounds and take care of you. I could have done that till the end of my life. But I can’t anymore, not when you lie. You’ve been lying about being at work when I know damned well you left hours ago. I cannot be with you if you won’t tell me what goes through your head. What troubles you. You won’t even say you love me, when I know for a fact you do.”

“You wait every single night until you think that I’ve fallen asleep and you say you love me over and over because you think I can’t hear you. But I do. And I love you, I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much that- that I’m willing to let you go. Because you sure as hell don’t want to stay, for some unknown reason you won’t tell me.”

“You won’t tell me even though I’ve proven to you that I can take care of your naked soul. No Winter Soldier, no vibranium, no Hydra. Just Bucky.” Your voice cracked. “So if you won’t admit that, then you should leave.”

Your words cut through Bucky like thousands of knives, each tear that fell from your face was a reminder of why he had to leave even though his whole body begged him to stay. He would hurt you more if he stayed- so that’s what he did, he left. Without a word he walked out of the apartment that had become a true home to him for the first time in decades and never looked back. Not when you slammed the door and not when he heard you sob. 

Part 2: Hurry Back Home

Wanna read more like this? Here’s my latest post. 💖

Authors Note:

Heeeyyy everyoneee, sooo this is the first time I've posted in a loooongggg time so I hope you guys liked it. If you did please like comment reblog the whole thing! Thanksss <3

[gunsandspaceships]

Tony’s Childhood. Part 2.1. Effects: Own Will

Before this part, be sure to read Part 1.

If you're not aware of Tony's strange understanding of the importance of his own wants and needs, check out this post from daydreamsandnightlights.

Here I will try to explain the roots of this behavior.

At age 4 Tony built his first circuit board (IM1)

At age 6 built his first engine (IM1)

Let's think about what it meant that he built all these things at such an early age. Was this his own or his father's will?

Let’s take Morgan for comparison – she is indeed a brilliant kid too, since at the age of 5 she can count up to 3000 (ordinary kids count up to 1000 at the age of 8), knows how much is in a ton, what “disintegrate” means and can easily manipulate her dad, a genius.

Looking at Morgan's behavior, we can assume that she is already capable of building a circuit board under the guidance of her father. But she doesn't. Because her father does not demand this from her. She is a kid. She plays with plush dogs and beavers, sleds on Captain America’s shield, and likes to have bedtime stories read to her before bed. She sneaks into her father’s garage because there are interesting things inside that she can take and play with, not to build something and add it to the list of impressive achievements.

The question is: did Tony want to create things because he liked it, or because his father did it and wanted his son to do the same?

We know that Howard had plans for Tony to "change the world" with Howard's ideas about the future. Apparently, he was preparing Tony for this purpose.

Do small children have a desire to tinker and build things? Some yes. Do they want to or should they play with cubes and constructor sets? Yes. Do they want to or should they work with real motorcycle engines and soldering irons? Hell no. They usually don't have the appropriate motor skills to do this, so they can easily hurt themselves. I'll talk more about this later when I discuss his pain tolerance.

I think it’s impossible to say now whether Tony was interested in engineering from that age (I mean sincere desire, not ability). So we cannot answer that question. But I doubt 4-year-old Tony realized what he was doing when building computer parts. He liked it though. Because those were probably the only times he spent time with his father.

Howard continued to deny his son his will when Tony was sent to boarding school when Tony was 7 years old. There he had a regulated, planned life for 7 years. Then college for another 7. And then became the youngest CEO at 21. None of this sounds like a child’s “I did what I wanted”.

He did not express his will but pleased others. Because this way he received a little love. Or a substitute for love, to be precise. And when, perhaps for the first time, he was taken care of by Yinsen, who saved him, even in such a terrible way, and died for him, he was incredibly grateful. And after that, his attitude towards people changed.

But not the attitude of people towards him, since they continued to want something from him, expecting the same behavior that they were used to seeing from the “rich and famous”.

*Doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday with a bunch of strangers in his house? Wants to spend his last days with the woman he loves? DENIED*

*Needs psychological support from people he trusts? DENIED*

*Wants to save the team from a breakup because he cares and knows what’s coming? DENIED*

Conclusion: Tony didn't belong to himself his whole life. He didn’t use to defend his own, laid deep within, interests. First, his will was moved aside by his father’s. Then Stane’s and the public’s. Fury then came with his Initiative without asking what Tony wanted. Then S.H.I.E.L.D. came to him (not) asking to find Tesseract and save the world. Then the whole team came. Then the government with its Accords, and so on and so forth. None of them bothered to ask, “What do you want, Tony?”. And the only times he insisted on something, were the times when he tried to keep the team together and prevent their death.

[stargirlsmooch]

bliss

bucky barnes x fem!reader

your relationship with bucky is taken to a whole new level- you tell him you love him. fluffy smut! 18+ 1.2k words.

Bucky had his eyes trained on you from the moment you walked into the room, your pink robe wrapped tightly around you as you walked over to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. You looked so adorable in your Captain America printed pyjamas- one more second spent staring and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from walking over there and ripping them right off you.

It definitely wasn’t out of jealousy. Bucky was okay with you walking around with his best friend’s badge plastered all over you… At least that’s what he told himself.

So, the faster he could get you out of here, and out of those clothes, the better. Bucky couldn’t stand here for one more minute; he was desperate to feel your supple skin under his hands again, hear your precious little whimpers and make you beg for him. 

“Hey, Buck.” 

Being too in his thoughts about you had somehow rendered him so incapacitated that he had failed to see you walk over to him, a sexy smirk on your lips as if you knew what dirty scenes were playing over in his head. Images of you riding him (much like you did last night) hadn’t managed to make their way out of his brain today, especially as he sat at the dining table filling out a mission report whilst you strolled around in front of him in tiny shorts.

Bucky would’ve loved to have the strength to punish you, but in actual fact, he could never do anything but make love to you, softly. Each time you and Bucky were together, it was the sweetest fucking you had ever experienced- a kiss on the shoulder there, a slow thrust here.

It was perfection.

Hence why you couldn’t get enough and were running a hand up and down his bicep seductively, whilst you said, “Wanna come to my room?” 

As the chivalrous boyfriend he was growing to be, he scooped you up bridal-style and started making his way back to your bedroom with you comfortably slotted in his arms, kissing his neck and cheeks. You two hadn’t even made it two steps before Sam blurted out, “Jesus Christ, Buck. Can’t you keep it in your pants for five seconds?” 

“Yeah, Bucky. Leave the poor girl alone.” Steve piped up, turning around from his spot on the couch to face Bucky, or rather his retreating back. 

He didn’t even acknowledge the two of them, continuing to bask in the delightful attention you were paying him. His handsome face lit up with a lovely smile, intensifying with every step closer to your bed, until he was full-on beaming as he dropped you down on the plush mattress. 

Before your back had even hit the material, Bucky had started stripping out of his clothes, with a brief intermission to turn around and lock your door- neither of you wanted a run in like you had last week with Sam.

“You’re so handsome.” You whispered, bringing your hands up to Bucky’s chiseled tummy for a feel. For a man who, nowadays, spent most of his time trying to get out of training and sparring to spend time with you in your office, he was surprisingly still very beefy. Those thighs would forever be your weakness.

“And you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” He murmured back to you, his lips pressed loosely against yours as he slowly undressed you, unbuttoning the top of your pyjama top and inching you out of the matching bottoms until you were laid bare before him. The dressing gown had long since been abandoned on the floor.

Once every fiber of clothing had been removed, Bucky used his fingers to push your knees apart, proceeding to slide his shoulders inbetween your thighs until his face was right where you wanted it. You stayed sat up, reclining back on your hands to watch the show.

His tongue was warm and soft against your folds, slowly sliding between them until he met your clit, circling it briefly before sucking it into his mouth harshly. He did this repeatedly, edging you closer and closer towards the edge until you couldn’t take it anymore: his teasing was immaculate.

You wouldn’t change it for the world. You got off on the fact Bucky took so much pleasure from pleasing you, pushing you inch by inch to the precipice of orgasm and then yanking you back to start the process all over again. 

“Bucky, baby…” You started, having to take a breath to collect yourself- teetering on the brink of bliss and talking were difficult tasks to conduct at the same time. “Please make me cum.”

Bucky chose that time to take his mouth away from you, leaving you shaking and dangling over the cliff of pleasure. When he started gently kissing up your tummy, meeting your breasts in no time and taking one nipple into his mouth whilst rolling the other one inbetween his vibranium fingers, you lost it- fallling into the pit of ecstasy with a barely-contained scream. 

Your thighs shook as they wrapped themselves around Bucky’s waist, holding on tightly as if he might turn into dust and fly away. Your arms were hugging his shoulders, trying to find some way to ground yourself and bring you back down to earth after you’d basically just been shattered by euphoria. 

“Did you just cum?” He asked, whispering his question in your ear as he lined himself up with your leaking hole. The best thing about Bucky- he was a giver. You may have already orgasmed, but one wasn’t enough for him. 

Barely even able to nod your head, you laid back against your pillows, eventually finding the strength to open your thighs up even more to give your love more room. It was well worth it when he slid inside for the first time, as you both let out rapturous moans at the feeling of being complete again. 

You stayed like that for a little while: Bucky’s face in your neck, biting down on your smooth skin tenderly when you clenched around him, and your limbs encasing him sweetly as you kissed his shoulder. 

“Move, baby.” You said, moaning quietly when he started to thrust into you, hitting your g-spot perfectly each and every time. You couldn’t help the little whimpers that left your mouth, narrating the delight that was Bucky plunging inside you. 

As he picked up his pace, until it was verging on pleasureful brutality, you couldn’t stop the admission from escaping your lips that were pressed against his throat.

“I love you, James.” 

You couldn’t see his gorgeous face as it was still laying in the juncture between your neck and shoulder, but Bucky’s eyes slowly began to fill with tears, until they were spilling over and onto your skin. 

He dreamed of being told that, of being told he meant something and that he was worth something to someone. But he would’ve never imagined the feeling that overcame him when he heard it roll of your tongue, sweet like honey.

The overwhelming joy hit him in the chest like a punch, the happiness ricocheting out through his nerves to every cell in his body, warming his blood.

With a few last thrusts, you both came together, trapping your moans as your lips met in a lovable kiss, transferring all the unspoken words between you.

“I love you too, sweetheart. So much.” 

[onbearfeet]

Vintage Captain Abearica ships out to his new human! Have fun punching Nazis, Steeb! (Cropped to cut out a requested personalization on one foot.)

[cevansbaby-dove]

If I wouldn't have know...💔

Pairing:Husband!Chris Evans XWife!Reader.

Summary: after the sudden death of a family member Chris is there to help you during the darkest time.

Warnings:Mentions of death. Crying.

You woke up after Chris left for filming, it was his last week for a upcoming movie and you were excited for him.

When you walked into the large kitchen you made coffee then dodger comes running up to you with your two year old.

"Morning you two" You pick up your son and kiss his head. "Did daddy forget to put you in your playpen uh?"

Your son named Chase was the love of you and chris's life. You and Chris had gotten married three years ago and when you found out you were pregnant you couldn't wait to tell your husband.

You pour the coffee and sets Chase in his day crib and handed him his captain America plush and then you read the news on your laptop and then your phone rings.

You saw it was your brother sending you a text.

B/N-Hey y/n sorry to bring bad news but Aunt Mary passed last night and mom is taking the news tough, I don't think it's a good idea to call her but in a few days I would be good to hear from you, hope you are well.

Y/n-Morning, i'll call mom soon, what happened?

B/N-she was in the ICU last week and her body just...had enough of a fight.

Y/n-ok thanks for telling me.

You sat there feeling numb, the thoughts of your aunt flooded your mind as you looked at chase who was giggling as he was swigging the plush around.

you lost it, the tears flowed down you cheeks as you thought bak to the news.

You laid your head on the table and sobbed softly then chase heard you and started crying too.

You walk over to chase and pick him up walking around. "i'm sorry buddy" You kiss his head and try to get him to stop crying.

Later that day when Chris got home he saw you asleep on the couch with chase next to you.

Chris walks over and sees chase looking around. "hey buddy" Chris picks him up and says. "why don't we let mommy rest ok?"

You sat up slowly. "it's ok Chris I can't sleep anyway" You got more tears and then Chris sits by you.

"what's up?" He frowns watching you cry. "my...aunt..she..died!"

Chris wraps his arm around you and holds you close. "Shhh...Dove" He kisses your head as you kept crying.

"I'm sorry honey...I'm so sorry" Chase pouts and Chris rubs your back and says. "Do you need to fly back home?"

You shake your head. "I'll call my mom in a few days...just...I don't know what to say"

Chris frowns as he consoles your pain. "I'm always here if you need me to take chase and you can head down to Orlando to be with your mom"

You look at your husband and say. "thanks but like I said...I don't know if I can see her without breaking down...then she and I both will be crying"

Chris nods. "I get it love I really do" Chase reaches up tugging on chris's beard. "ashe!"

Chris and you look at him and smile. "yea h bud" you lean your head on chris's arm and say. "thanks for being here baby" Chris kisses your head. "i'm always here"

"If I would have known...I would have gone to be with her!" You were now mad at yourself for being so busy with Chase and work in Boston. "baby you couldn't' have known."

You bite your lip holding back more tears. "You don't know that Chris! what if I was told weeks ago and I could have been with her!?"

Chris takes your hand in his. "Dove hear me out..you were with your grandfather when he passed and that nearly killed you...you were there with your dog....you can't handle death like a lot of people do"

You sniffle. "but Chris...I could have!" Chris rubs his thumb on your hand. "I know baby I know but please just call your mother in a few days and talk to her ok?"

You nodded. "ok your right" he smiles. "I try to be"

he kisses your forehead. "I'm going to get this little one in for nap time." He stands up and you say. "baby?" He turns. "Hmm?"

"thank you for being there for me" He smiles "what's your husband for uh? Your welcome."

he walks away.

A/n:the best way for me to grieve is to write my feelings out and that is why I have written this one shot. Much love. bekah

Tags;@cutedisneygrl @bookishtheaterlover7 @katherineswritingsblog @nicoline1998enilocin @k-slla @angelbabyyy99

[late-to-the-party-81]

Meet, Greet, Indiscreet - Chapter 1

AN: I’m back again trying to shoe-horn in a few more bingo fills before the end of the month, so I have a three part Shrunkyclunks for you. Thanks to @endlesstwanted who had to deal with my tired brain not aligning my tenses when they were beta-ing.

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden.

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Join my tag list here

Master list | Stucky Bingo Master List | SRB Master list

Summary: When Captain America, Steve Rogers, and his boyfriend, YouTuber Bucky Barnes’ private relationship gets accidentally made public, they end up being interviewed about the romance between them as part of the PR repair. How did these two love-birds meet, and what happened to make hot gossip for the media?

Relationships: Modern Bucky Barnes x Cap! Steve Rogers

WC: 2.3k

CW: Modern Bucky Barnes, Cap! Steve Rogers, Anxiety, Fluff, TV Interview, Flashback, Canon typical violence, meet cute/ugly, flirting, flirting at an inappropriate time, brief non-consensual kiss.

Bingo Fills and Challenges

Stucky Bingo- Flashbacks

Steve Rogers Bingo - Battle of New York

The lights were shining bright and hot on his face and the buzz of people moving around was loud in his ears. Steve sucked in a deep breath. He could do this, he had been in front of the cameras numerous times. However, this was different. On all of those occasions he’d been doing it as ‘Captain America’. Today, while he was still that, sort of, he was having to let a bit more of his private self - a bit more of Steve - show.

The host, a genial man in his late fifties with dark hair and glasses, flashed him a sympathetic smile, if somehow knowing the internal struggle he was dealing with.

“It’s gonna be fine,” the host placated. “I’m not gonna go off piste with the questions. Try and think of this like any other interview you’ve done, but with a different focus. Not so stern and stiff. And you’re not here alone, either.” He gestured towards Steve’s companion on the plush sofa.

Bucky grinned at him, leaning nonchalantly against the soft fabric, arms draped along its back. Steve wished he could be that relaxed. However, as he and Bucky were here more out of a PR need than any real want to be interviewed, he thought he could be forgiven for his stiffness.

Various crew members bustled around the stage, measuring the light levels, checking that microphones were attached properly, and dusting powder onto the host’s forehead, when Steve felt Bucky lean across to him. “I’m right here.”

Such a short phrase, but one that immediately helped to lessen the anxiety building inside him. Which was good, because at that moment the director stood up.

“10 seconds ‘til we’re on air, people. 4. 3.” He went silent for the last two seconds, holding up his fingers instead. The host immediately seemed to morph into someone else, right before Steve’s eyes.

“Welcome back. It’s time for our next guests, who need very little introduction. It’s Steve Rogers - Captain America, and YouTube and gaming sensation, Bucky Barnes!” An applause track started to play and Steve felt his face morph into a rictus grin, which made it difficult to get out his greeting. Now he knew what a deer caught in headlamps felt like. But then Bucky, his sweet, silly and loving boyfriend, slipped his hand into Steve’s where it lay between them and started to brush his thumb back and forward over Steve’s knuckles. His anxiety lessened even more and he managed to tune back in to where he was, realising that Bucky and the host had exchanged some silly pleasantries while he’d been sitting looking like the most awkward human to have ever existed.

“So,” the host continued, getting into his script, “you’ve come here today to talk about your relationship, which you had been keeping private until it came to light in an unexpected way a few weeks back. I know there was some speculation - some rumours - about the two of you after a previous incident a year ago, but I don’t think anyone was expecting your announcement, or the form it took.”

Steve felt his pale Irish skin betraying him as he felt a hot wave of embarrassment rush up his neck. “Well - I -” His tongue felt thick in his mouth. The words didn’t want to come and then he felt Bucky pressing his leg against him as well, grounding him. “I’m quite a private person, at least compared to Buck, so we weren’t really trying to hide it, but I will say that we didn’t ever plan to announce it like we did.”

Both the host and Bucky chuckled at Steve’s choice of words. ‘Announce’ was really the right word. ‘Unveil’ would have been more appropriate.

“Well, before we get to that part of the story, let’s start at the beginning. The first incident - the one that sparked the initial rumours - was after you met at a Stark Gala, is that right?”

Bucky grinned. “It was definitely where we were first introduced, but it wasn’t where, or when, we first met.”

“Ooh!” said the host, with such genuine interest Steve almost forgot that it was at least partially scripted. They, or rather their PR team, had divulged there was more of a story to tell, but not what it was, only assuring the TV executives that it was safe to be aired and would add an extra aspect of romanticism. “Tell me more!”

Steve couldn’t help but smile as he looked over at Bucky, forgetting for a moment he was being recorded live on national TV, mooning over his boyfriend. “Yes - it was totally unexpected. Apparently fate had an agenda we weren’t even aware of….”

Flashback - New York 2011

It was utter chaos on the streets of Manhattan. Steve was pressed to the ground, on his back, as one of the aliens that had come through the portal opened by Loki was trying to push its bladed weapon into his face. With a sharp and desperate wrench, he managed to twist the glowing edge aside, giving him room to backhand the creature and then follow it up with a jab. His assailant flew to the floor, unmoving. Steve assumed he’d broken its neck. 

As he staggered back to his feet, the voice of Clint, positioned up on the rooftops as Steve had asked, sounded in his ear. “Cap - the Bank on 42nd, passed Madison. They’ve caught a lot of civilians in there.”

“I’m on it,” Steve replied and set off running. As he reached the bank, he could see army and police standing outside, unsure as to what to do. It wasn’t as though there were protocols for this sort of thing. Going in through the front door would probably be a bad idea - that would be too obvious and he’d be shot at as soon as he made it through. However, looking up, he could see the open windows on the second floor and a plan coalesced inside his brain.

Taking a run up, and using an abandoned car as a ramp, he launched himself up into the air, the shield in front of him to protect his eyes. He burst through the opening and, as hoped, he had the element of surprise. Five of the alien creatures were standing up on this mezzanine, gesturing threateningly with their energy weapons. He rolled across the floor, and as he came to his feet, Steve launched his shield at the closest, incapacitating him immediately.

He dived across the space, slamming into a coffee table as two of them opened fire, before engaging one of them in hand to hand combat. Almost effortlessly, he broke its neck and threw it over the balcony onto the floor below, the hostages gasping as they got out of the way.

“Everyone! Clear out!” he shouted, but suddenly another alien grabbed him from behind, its clawed hand grasping at his face and snagging on his cowl. He jabbed it in the ribs - or where ribs would be if it was human - and backflipped over its shoulder, able to turn it and use it as a shield as one of its comrades fired. Dropping the body to the floor, he realised something. That first one - it had been holding a device in his hand that had dropped to the floor. A device that was now beeping louding. Beeps that were getting faster and faster.

The last alien standing picked up the device - the bomb -, raising its arm to throw it at him. Steve rolled over the floor, picking up his shield on the way. He jumped into the air, curling up as small as possible behind his shield just as the device was thrown at him. It exploded, taking out the last alien, but the shock wave also sent Steve shooting back through the window he’d come through, out into the air above the street.

Time seemed to slow down, and for a moment he was floating. However, the world soon sped up again and he was falling, landing face down onto the car he’d used to get in, crushing the roof with his ribs taking most of the impact.

With his ears ringing, he got to his feet, trying not to wince, and in that instant he really took in what was going on around him. The scale of the destruction, the complete hopelessness of the situation hit him. How on earth were they going to get through this? Survive this? Off to the side, the police were evacuating all of the civilians from the bank, trying to get them to a safe place somewhere underground. All Steve could do was try to breathe.

From the corner of his eyes he saw someone duck under the arms of the first responders, and he turned, worried. It was a young man, maybe only 20 years old. He had shaggy dark hair poking out from beneath a baseball cap, and he wore a bright orange T-shirt and knee-length shorts. It was definitely a look. As he got closer, Steve could see he had ice blue eyes, plump lips and a bottle of water in his hand.  He stopped in front of Steve, the bottle extended in his hand, and Steve took it with a nod.

“Are you okay?” the guy asked. “You just got blown out of a window!” His face was doing a strange thing, where he was obviously excited but trying not to look like it.

Steve finished drinking the water and looked around for a trash can, trying not to grin at the guy’s demeanor.

“It takes a lot more than that to stop me,” he chirped back, and launched the empty water bottle across the street and into a can that was tilted at an angle. As the plastic thunked in, he wondered what on earth he was doing. He was in the middle of a catastrophic event, and somehow he was flirting. Now was definitely not the time or the place, even if the young man was extremely cute.

With a cough, he squared his shoulders and tried to put on his best ‘Captain America’ face.

“You’d best go back and join the others. Get to safety.”

His new fan opened his mouth to say something in response, but Steve didn’t even get the chance to wonder what it was going to be, because in the next instant all the blood drained from his cute face and he grabbed hold of Steve’s forearm, yanking him down. 

“Look out!” he cried, and Steve ducked his head as he allowed himself to be pulled down. A shot from an alien weapon zipped across where his head had been, fizzling into the lamp post behind him.

Almost immediately, he shook off the young man, stood and threw his shield at the creature that had shot at him. The vibranium ricocheted off the alien, knocking it to the ground where it twitched for a moment and then went still. Reaching down, he pulled the man who’d now saved his life back to his feet. “Thanks for the assist,” he said, not even trying to keep the smile from reaching his eyes. 

The young man looked back at him, his own eyes wide and his mouth hanging open, before blurting out, ”Woah! You just keep going, don’t you?”

He didn’t know where it came from, but he let out a chuckle and then gave him a wink that could only be described as flirty. “I can do this all day,” he intoned, more than a small note of amusement in his voice.

”Cap!” Clint’s voice sounded in his ear again. “Are you taking a nap? We need you.” Despite the fact that he should have turned all of his attention to the information Clint was giving him, he couldn’t help but drink in the sight of the beautiful young man out of the corner of his eye. With all the directions memorised, Steve turned with reluctance to say goodbye.

”I gotta go. Stay safe, please.”

He was about to turn away, about to start running back down the street, when a pair of arms twined around his neck and a pair of soft lips pressed briefly against his own. “For good luck,” the stranger said as he stepped back. “Go save New York.”

Steve raised his fingers to his lips as he watched the young man return to the group of civilians being ushered to safety, his mind reeling on what had just happened.

“Cap! For Thor’s sake, get over here!” Clint shouted at him over the comms. With a shake of his head, Steve turned and ran back into the fray.

The present

The show host looked utterly enraptured, his elbows resting on his desk and his face cupped in his hands. Steve was also certain the man was making goo-goo eyes at him. At his side, Bucky was grinning while hanging on his arm and resting his head on his shoulder.

”And you didn’t see each other again for over 10 years?” 

Before Steve could open his mouth, Bucky interjected. “No, but obviously I never forgot him. Who would forget being saved by Captain America?”

“Seems to me that you saved him in return,” the host replied.

Now it was Steve’s turn to butt back in “He certainly did. And despite the intervening years, I never forgot him either, even if I honestly thought I’d never see him again. I hadn’t been out of the ice for long. Hadn’t really gotten a hand on this century and its freedoms compared to what I was used to. Bucky here made a lasting impression.”

“So the years went by and then came your fame, Bucky, and an invitation to Tony Stark’s Nouveau Tech Gala. Were you nervous, knowing that you were probably going to see your hero again?”

“So nervous,” Bucky said with an emphatic nod. “I thought I was going to look like some kind of mad stalker because I was sure that he had forgotten almost as soon as he’d gone back into the fight and I knew I’d end up fangirling over him.”

“But I hadn’t forgotten,” commented Steve, placing his free hand on top of their joined ones.

“And I’m forever thankful.”

Chapter 2

Tag list: @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796, @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @crayongirl-linz, @mightstill, @nicoline1998enilocin, @starrkermarvel

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Dom Bucky, Sub Steve.

Steve wants a Prince Albert piercing but is worried about word getting out about Captain America getting his dick pierced. Bucky asks Tony, who has a guy for that (of course he does) and arranges for a discreet professional to pierce Steve in their floor at the tower. Bucky kisses Steve while the piercer works and swallows down the hurt little sounds Steve makes.

Whenever they get a whole day to play, Bucky strips Steve down and keeps him naked all day. Keeps him hard and wanting. Attaches a little jingly bell to the Prince Albert so he can hear Steve wherever he’s crawling in their apartment. He can hear when Steve’s dick twitches as he calls him a good boy, smacks his ass, slaps his face with Bucky’s dick. That little jingly bell is the sound of a very happy Steve, right where he wants to be, at Bucky’s feet.

First, okay, so, whenever I hear about stucky and piercings, I think of "Titanium (I'm Bulletproof, Nothing To Lose)" by sassbandit which isn't sub Steve and dom Bucky, but actually Bucky getting re-acclamated to his own body after HYDRA with piercings and just 🤤 So, I highly recommend that.

Second, GOD, you mentioning Bucky kissing Steve while it happens lights up the sadist part of me so bad 😮‍💨😮‍💨 like--

I can't fucking stand it. Christ.

This got longer than it was supposed to (when doesn't it? it's me, lmao) also, obviously, pain kink under the cut, so if that's not your thing, this isn't for you

Just imagine how tears would be pouring down his cheeks in streams by the end--he's so sensitive, and, yeah, Steve has experienced a lot of pain in his life, in his body, he can deal with pain silently when he needs to, but he doesn't need to here not with Bucky. Plus, Steve's not... never... he's never had it centered right there like it is with this piercing. And it, it feels so intense. More intense than choking cock rings restraining him, taking his decisions away from him mouth-wateringly, more than thick sounds fucking deep into his cock where his body knows it shouldn't be, setting off these weird, incredible warning bells in his head, more than Bucky squeezing his balls until he chokes on a sob, pain curling deep into his gut and tugging on him hotly, and even more intense than Bucky's fingers cruelly flicking the head of his cock, making it hit against his rigid abs, getting him messy with the spray of his own dripping pre-cum, such a filthy, wet boy, all too eager for the hot, molten pain. It's a fucking lot for Steve to take--getting pierced.

So, tears overflow from his blue eyes like a gorgeous fountain. He looks straight out of a painting. Untouchable. Masterful. Alexandre Cabanel's own. Pale, marble skin with all that redness and wetness transforming his eyes to be ever bluer, glassier. Staring up at Bucky like big, round jewels. He looks so innocent--so helpless.

And, fuck, Bucky loves it.

But it's not just his wet eyes and spasming chest with barely stifled sobs that have Bucky in a chokehold. It's his mouth, too. Steve's lips are glistening wet with spit from how he continues to worry his bottom lip between his teeth and run his tongue over his lips, too. He's just trying to hold in his little sounds but, actually, all he's successfully doing is making himself look more affected--more debauched and wanting, strung out from the anticipation and pain. His lips look plush and fat and wet just like they do when he's finished sucking Bucky off; his throat raw, mouth buzzing. The tip of his nose is red, too. All that crying. Poor thing. Blushing, heated, so overwhelmed, all at once dangerously attractive and snugly adorable. He's fucking--

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

He is temptation.

The things he could convince Bucky to do. The things he has convinced Bucky to do. Anything. Everything.

Steve's turned into this shivering, whimpering, and gasping thing from having his dick pierced. A precious bit of submission enwrapped in thick muscle and smooth, pale skin unmarred by all the pain he's taken--willingly and unwillingly. He's so, so strong. But he's a contradiction. Steve has always been. So commanding and bossy but so, so willing to melt and follow like a fucking dream under the right hands--under Bucky's hands. It makes Bucky want to do so many delicious, good-bad things to him. Just--holy fuck. Bucky could weep, having him like this.

Steve.

His submissive.

Bucky wants to swallow him whole. Christ.

Ever since the serum, Steve's been super needy and super sensitive, and now is no different. Shivering. Whimpering. Gasping. He just can't not fucking squirm and writhe. He might even beg to be held down as it happens because he wants it, he wants it so bad, and he needs to be good for it, but he's not sure he can. Not by himself, at least. Every little touch feels so big. He keeps gasping and flinching, his body twisting, contorting, all that muscle rippling, poetry in motion. His abs are clenching, quivering--coiled up. He's sweating through his tight, tight t-shirt and his pants have gone missing. It should look silly, but it doesn't because it's Steve It's devastatingly attractive instead. Like a wet t-shirt contest, cold water making his shirt transparent and his nipples achingly hard, all too obvious through his shirt. But it's not water. He's just submerged in submission and he likes it, he likes it so fucking much.

All the attention.

The touches.

The cold metal against his dick is like Bucky's arm but so unlike it, too. The sharp points of needles remind him of the danger of Bucky's glinting teeth during particularly mean blowjobs that bring him to his knees, head lolling back, lashes fluttering. The gentle praise and check-ins this God-sent piercer is doing with him are similar to what Bucky does when they try something new. He's so safe. He feels safe. And it's why he's letting go. He wants this fucking piercing more than anything. He wants it just like he wants Bucky to have him, control him, and make all the decisions for him.

So, before and after the piercing, Steve is curled up into a little ball, turning toward Bucky for comfort.

Before it happens at all, he has to be hard for the piercer to know where to properly place the Prince Albert on him (you don't really have to be hard, at least as far as a Google search tells me, but, shh, let's pretend because it's hotter, lmao) and so, of course, Bucky is the one to get him nice and ready, stroking him off, clenched tight in his metal fist, metal like the piercing he's about to get. Steve's breath keeps hitching, unsteady and rough, he's trying not to moan, and trying not to get too worked up, too. He can still cum so easily, even after all the years of having the serum running hot and thick through his veins. He's trying not to moan because he's so, so aware of the fact that the piercer is right there, practically whistling to themself, letting Bucky get Steve ready in peace, the utmost professional, but it's so embarrassing, too. He's hyperaware of their audience and the fact that Bucky doesn't even need to jerk him off for more than a mortifying few strokes because, God, he's been looking forward to this forever. It's too easy to get hard, it'd be so easy to trip over the edge, make a mess that would be so obvious, and then stay hard because--because he wants it. He needs it.

After, when he has it, fucking finally, Steve curls into a ball again. Now he's definitely crying. Really crying. Tear tracks obvious down his flushed cheeks. He's sobbing from the exhilarating pain. Flying high, eyes squeezed shut. Chest heaving. Hurts so good. His tears wet Bucky's shirt and the thin, intimate skin between his neck and shoulder as his fists squeeze at his shirt, the seams groan with his shaky strength. His bottom lip can't stop quivering as his hot little mouth hangs open dumbly. His knees are drawn in so close, curled around his throbbing, throbbing, throbbing cock. The tip of his cock feels so hot and inflamed. It's all he can feel, all he can pay attention to, completely locked in the moment and aware of every nerve in his dick and balls. Lit up. Electic. The way the pain drips like lava down his shaft and pools in his balls, it feels like someone's shoved a cattle brand into his guts--awful and torturous and so fucking good that he can't stand it. He literally couldn't stand if he tried, instantly, he would crumble back to his knees, wilting into himself, curling up, all divinely hurt.

Oh, God.

He wants it to be healed already. He wants Bucky to touch him again and not to do the aftercare for him like they already negotiated, he wants Bucky to touch him. He wants to cum. He wants to know how it feels when Bucky tugs on his piercing with his fingers and worries it between his teeth and the sound it makes when it hits against Bucky's metal hand. He wants the familiar rhythm of his tight fist and the new tink tink tink sound of metal on metal underneath it. He wants it. Of course, he cries 'cause it's overwhelming--all that ache--but he cries because he's already so frustrated by the healing process, too (typical Steve). He wants to touch it. More importantly, he just wants Bucky to touch it.

Please!

When they get home, Steve just cries harder, sobbing, barely restraining himself from thrusting, humping, and jerking his hips into frustratingly thin air when Bucky lays him out on his back on their bed, peeling his clothes off him, slow and gentle, to take a look at what they've just had done. Slithering between his spread thighs, Bucky's breath is hot and humid against his sweaty skin as he examines him up close and personal, using his strength to keep Steve's twitching thighs spread mortifying wide, making room for himself and his big shoulders. He doesn't touch. He just looks and expertly dodges Steve's wild, frantically bucking hips. Steve wants in his mouth so fucking bad. He's so achy and tender, it's all he wants. It wouldn't be long, he just--just for a second! He wants--

Please, please, please!

He knows he doesn't get to tell Bucky what to do, he doesn't get what he wants unless Bucky wants to give him what he wants but he can't help it! It's raw and molten hot and he feels so, so alive. He's a goddamn mess.

Uhh...

What?

I think I blacked out writing that. I'm not taking prompts yet, I still have a few weeks of school left for this year. But, um, clearly, this just hit the sadist in me too hard, and I couldn't resist.

As for the aftermath of a bell on Steve's pierced cock? Jesus Fucking Christ. Yes.

I don't think I can think about that without blacking out and going on another rant, so just know... Y-E-S. I agree.