#pre-serum s

[late-to-the-party-81]

Loving you means loving myself - Chapter 2

AN: Welcome back for my second entryfor Hot Bucky Summer, organised by @buckybarnesevents. This is chapter two of the fic I posted last week.

For the Week Two prompt “What should I call you?”, I have chosen Daddy.

Thank you to @linnahiell for beta-ing

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist | Chapter 1

Summary: Steve's home and Bucky is eager for what's going to happen. Steve is in no mood to rush though.

Relationship: Beefy Bucky x Small Steve

Word Count: 1.8k

CW: Indulgent fluff, mild sexual content, flashbacks, domestic Bucky, small amount of dirty talk, light D/S tones, Daddy kink, everything is soft and nothing hurts.

In…

Out…

Bucky tried to regulate his breathing as he waited, trying to stay as calm and relaxed as much as he could, despite the excitement within him trying to break free. Steve appreciated it if Bucky could control himself, at least to start with. He’d be allowed free reign of himself later in the evening. Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long.

The sound of keys jingling in the lock made Bucky’s heart skip a beat, and his feet squirmed against his ass. Somehow he managed to keep his expression under control.

The door opened and he walked through. Steve. The light of Bucky’s life.

“Daddy.”

He said the title reverently, and with that one word, Steve entirely understood. A smile played at the edges of the blonds lips, as he looked at Bucky, not breaking eye contact while he took off and hung up his coat, dumped his keys on the entrance table and loosened his tie.

With measured strides, Steve made his way across the small space separating them and Bucky could feel his heart-rate increasing with each step, his spine getting more and more tense, until Steve finally reached him. A strong hand cupped Bucky’s jaw and with that one touch all that tension fled his body as he relaxed into it. 

“Hey, baby. You look absolutely beautiful. And dinner smells wonderful. Is this all for me?”

Steve’s deep voice made him shiver, but somehow Bucky managed to drag his eyelids, which had closed on their own the moment Steve’s flesh had connected with his own, open and looked up into the eyes of his lover.

“‘S for us, Daddy. Like looking pretty. And I like pasta, too.”

Bucky saw Steve’s eyes soften, and felt Steve’s thumb rubbing across his cheekbone. He could tell Steve was happy with his answer, and if he were a puppy, he was sure his tail would be wagging.

“Good boy. You should always do things that make you happy, not just me.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Steve looked at him for a few moments longer, and Bucky could feel himself getting fidgety under the intense scrutiny, but then Steve let go of his face and took a step back, holding out his hand.

“Up you get, baby. Let me take a good look at you, and then we can eat the dinner you’ve so lovingly made.”

Taking hold of the proffered hand, Bucky rose to his feet. 

He was still in awe of the differences between them, and probably always would be. At first glance, people would probably make assumptions about their dynamic, but they’d also probably be wrong.

Bucky was tall, just over 6ft, and by his own admission a bit of a gym bro. He liked to work out, and had broad shoulders, a solid core and thick thighs.However, he was also the first to admit he was the subbiest bottom he knew. He loved to get fucked, but he also loved to please his top, be told what to do and then be praised for it.

Steve, on the other hand, was only 5ft 6in, and so slim he looked like a strong breeze would snap him in half. However, guys only made the assumption that he was a bottom once, or that they could push him around less times than that. 

Bucky was constantly amazed by how many people were just unable to see the ‘dom aura’ that just poured out of Steve. He remembered the first time they’d met - introduced by mutual friends in a bar, and Bucky was not ashamed to admit to Steve later that he almost fell straight to his knees right away. Later was in fact that same evening, with Bucky admitting it while he actually was on his knees, in the washroom, desperately trying to get Steve’s cock out of his pants…

They’d fallen into their dynamic fast, Bucky eager to serve and Steve eager to praise, and it hadn’t taken much longer for them to say those magic words to each other. They were like two pieces of a puzzle that fit beautifully together.

“Buck?”

Bucky snapped back to the present with a small jolt, realising that he’d zoned out.

“You alright, baby?” There was a note of concern in Steve’s voice, and Bucky smiled.

“I’m alright, Daddy. Just thinking ‘bout us and how much I love you.”

“Aww, aren’t you the cutest thing?” Steve stood up on his toes and pressed a light kiss to Bucky’s lips. “Now, turn around, so I can see how prettily you’ve wrapped yourself.”

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, and he also didn’t care if he was blushing. Steve was allowed to compliment him, and he was working hard on trying to accept them when they came. He’d only gotten half way through his turn when he felt Steve plaster himself to his back, those slim arms with ridiculously broad hands sliding around his waist, and dipping ever so slightly lower, to brush a palm briefly over Bucky’s crotch.

Bucky bit back a moan, and Steve gave out a low chuckle. “I’m sorry, baby, but you’re just so goddamn tempting. This is definitely your colour. Now, I promise to leave you be for now. I’m gonna go wash up and I’ll be right back.” 

Bucky turned in Steve’s embrace and pressed a kiss to the mop of blond hair.

“I’ll hold you to that. I don’t want dinner to spoil.”

“I’d never disrespect you like that, and you know it.”

“And you know I’m just teasing.”

Steve stood up on his toes once again and nipped at Bucky’s lower lip.

“I’ll bear that in mind for later on.”

He walked away then, with strong, assured steps and Bucky definitely wasn’t watching as Steve released the cuff buttons of his shirt and started to roll the sleeves up. However, it was time for the final meal preparations.

Having turned on the toaster oven, Bucky halved some ciabatta rolls and popped them under the heat. While the tops crisped and browned, he carefully took the lasagne out of the oven. The smell was amazing.

He cut out two portions with a knife and then carefully dished them out onto matching plates. Some salad was placed on the side with a drizzle of honey-balsamic dressing on top, and then the timer on the toaster oven went ping. He pulled the hot toasted bread out, blowing on his fingers at the sting, and sprinkled olive oil over all four pieces, and then rubbed them with a fat garlic clove.

When a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and a deep, sexy voice whispered in his ear, Bucky almost leapt up to the ceiling.

“Mmmm, can’t wait to tuck in.” 

Steve moved away as quickly as he’d appeared, carafe of wine in hand, leaving a blushing Bucky in his wake.

With a shake of his head, Bucky picked up the two plates and carried them across the small space to the table, where Steve had poured out two glasses of wine and was taking his seat. Bucky placed the dishes down, deftly removed his apron and sat down for the much anticipated dinner.

“That was delicious, baby. Thank you.” Steve pushed back his chair and stood, empty plate in hand. Moving around to the other side of the table, he gathered up Bucky’s plate and then pressed a sweet kiss to Bucky’s waiting lips.  “Now, I’m going to clean up here. I think you should head through to the bedroom, and get my desert ready, don’t you?”

How could so few words have such an effect on him? And did he really just let out a whimper? Well, Steve’s little smirk indicated that he had.

“Going sweet on me already, baby?” Steve’s hand cupped Bucky’s face. “We’ve not even started. Bet you’re gonna go deep tonight, aren’t you?”

Bucky didn’t know what to say, just looked up at Steve with wide eyes.

“Come on, up now. Go and get comfy and I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy.”

Somehow he got to his feet and, with another kiss from Steve, practically floated down the corridor.

As he walked around the bedroom, lighting the candles he’d prepared earlier, Bucky thought back to those first days with Steve. Admittedly, the washroom blowjob wasn’t his finest hour, but he was never going to regret the impulsivity that had brought him to where he was now.

Their first date had been two days after they met. Steve had invited him for dinner and they’d spent the evening talking and flirting, away from the prying eyes, whoops and hollers of their friends. Steve had walked him home, kissed him, but refused to come inside.

“I’d love to come in, Bucky. But even though we got off to a fast start,” his lips had twitched and Bucky had snorted, “I’d like to get to know you better, and have some frank discussions about what we both want. Because I think this could be so wonderful if we do it right.”

“Come in and we can talk right now, Steve.”

“No, because you’ll go all sweet and start sucking my cock before I can even start, just like the other day. Be patient. It’s not all about the destination - the journey is just as important.”

It had been on a stroll through Central Park on their third date, the leaves turning orange and littering the path, when Steve had asked Bucky what he wanted from their relationship. Bucky had blushed as his words had stumbled out, as he’d admitted that he had a thing for being looked after and praised. Steve had smiled and twined their fingers together.

“It’s a good thing that I like looking after good boys, then.”

They’d discussed the things they didn’t like too, Bucky admitting that his size and build had made previous partners assume things about him and Steve had given him a wry smile and said that the same had often happened to him. Awkward chuckles gave way to full laughs as they realised the serendipity that had brought them together.

There were two more dates and a lot more kissing and talking before Steve asked Bucky if he wanted to stay the night. Bucky said yes, called him Daddy that first time, and never looked back.

The memory made him smile as he lit the last of the candles and then crossed to the bathroom for a last minute freshen up. He washed his hands, checked his hair and make-up and returned to the bedroom, a thrum of excitement pulsing through his body. Carefully he removed his lounge outfit, folding the soft silk and folding the two pieces before placing them on the top of the chest of drawers. He then crossed to the bed, climbed up and knelt down, his legs tucked beneath him. He then lay down, chest to the mattress and his arms laying down either side of him. He hoped Steve wouldn’t be long.

Chapter 3

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @sidepartskinnyjeans @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @talia-rumlow @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

[urdepressedslut]

The Girl and Her Golden Boys

⇨ Chapter One: The Bells

♡ Pairing: 40’s!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, 40’s!Platonic!Pre-Serum!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

♡ Chapter Summary: You find yourself back in your hometown, unfortunately it’s for the passing of Sarah Rogers. You meet up with your boys, as it’s been awhile since you’ve last seen them.

♡ Chapter Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of parent death

Italics are flashbacks

You hadn’t gotten through a full year of Boarding School, when you had heard Sarah Rogers had passed. Growing up she had raised you when your Father was absent, which was a lot of the time. She became the Mother figure you needed, being a girl and all, it was important to have a woman guide you. Hearing that she had passed was devastating, feeling like you were losing your true Mother all over again.

Your Father had picked you up, and the two of you were now headed to the funeral. Silence filled the car, not many words ever spoken between him and you, that’s just how things were after your Mom had died. The usual tension that came with the silence, wasn’t noticed by you, as your mind swirled with thoughts. Specifically, Steve Rogers.

Your heart ached for him, knowing how badly he must be hurting. Losing a parent was a bond being torn, and no matter the years gone by, you will always wonder if they’ll come back. If maybe, just maybe— that bond will amble.

You knew it was vital that you be here for Steve, knowing what it like to lose a parent, you would try and make sure he didn’t lose himself like you did.

Steve was your first friend in school. Fourth grade, you remember a tiny boy tripping through the doorway of your school, his books flying everywhere, pages folding unnaturally.

☆

You were quick to collect his books, and help him back to his feet, pulling him to the side to dust off his now dirtied pants. He was slightly embarrassed, watching you clean him off like his mother would. You on the other hand, didn’t realize you were crossing a line, instead acted out of pure instinct.

“T-thanks… My shoes are a little too big. Hard to walk in them sometimes.” He told you bashfully.

“That’s okay, you’ll grow into them eventually,” You assured him, sticking out your hand, “I’m (Y/n)!”

Steve smiled at your kindness, grabbing your hand with a shake.

“I’m Steve, happy to meet someone nice on the first day of school.”

“I know it’s scary, but you’ve got me now! I promise I won’t let you trip… Again.” You declared, handing him his books back, all stacked nicely.

Steve giggled and smiled, excited that he had found a friend.

☆

Steve had become more of a brother to you as you two had grown. Although you two didn’t get along as well as you first did, you two still loved each other and would never go to bed angry. At least, that’s what Sarah would tell us.

The car halted to a stop, alerting you that you had arrived at the cemetery. Knots formed in your stomach suddenly, Sarah’s passing fully hitting you now. You wanted to stay strong for Steve, you didn’t want him to see you upset. You wanted the focus to stay on Steve, he was the one who deserved all the love today. But the closer you were getting to the group of sniffling people, your walls started to crumble.

You scanned the small crowd, spotting Steve standing next to Bucky. You had a good assumption Buck was trying to convince Steve to stay with him and his family, but Steve being stubborn, you knew that was going to be war.

You smiled at the closeness of the two, the brother bond always warming your heart. Steve needs someone like Bucky, and Bucky needs Steve just as much.

Before you were away at Boarding School, you were here with the boys. It was you three versus the world, going on adventures, getting in trouble, and sometimes getting hurt together. You didn’t care what mess you got yourselves into, as long as it was one of them that was putting the bandaid on.

Quietly letting your Father know you were headed over to the boys, you walked silently, keeping your head down, trying to swallow down the lump forming in your throat.

You stopped some feet away, glancing at the both of their glum faces. You started towards Steve first, not saying a word as you embraced him in a tight, needed hug. Steve closed his eyes, relishing in your comforting embrace that he had missed so much. He patted your back appreciatively, both of you stepping away from each other.

“Let me guess, you’re here to say you’re sorry for my loss too.” Steve mumbled sarcastically, his eyes vacant and unfocused.

Frowning at his words, you fiddled with the ends of your dress, and cleared your throat.

“I don’t think anything I say is going to make you feel better right now. I’m here because my friend needs me, that’s it.” You explained softly, watching his eyebrows raise slightly in appreciation.

Steve opened his mouth to respond but his eyes went dull again, and he closed it. Attempting to blink away the oncoming tears, he excused himself, choosing to stand farther away to give himself a moment.

You watched with worried eyes, not wanting to let him walk away, but knowing that he needs time to himself.

“You being here means the world to him, ya know.” Bucky spoke finally, breaking your gaze from Steve. You met his eyes and forced a smile, walking towards him slowly.

He opened his arms, caging you in his protective embrace. You looped your arms around his lower back, pulling him closer, if that was even possible. Your face was smushed into his chest, but it didn’t stop your eyes from tearing up, your nose burning.

“I’m trying to be strong for him but… It’s h-hard.” You whimpered out, your voice wavering by the end.

Bucky rubbed your back soothingly with one hand, while the other cradled the back of your head.

“I know Doll, I know. You can let it out.” He whispered, holding you tight as your body shook with quiet sobs.

Bucky always had this this effect on you, he was able to bring your guard down. You blamed it on the fact that his embrace always felt so safe, always feeling like it was just you and him. Bucky was the oldest and protected you and Steve growing up, of course you saw him as a hero. But you knew there was something deeper to the connection, but you never spoke up about it. You valued the friendship too much to risk putting your feelings out there.

Your sobs died down, just as quick as they had started. Bucky’s aura alone, making you feel better.

“Thank you Buck.” You mumbled into his chest, and he chuckled.

“No need, you know I’m always here for you.” He told you, making you lift your face from his chest to meet his gaze.

“I know.” You whispered, smushing your face back into his chest, wishing you could stay here forever.

Approaching footsteps got both you and Bucky’s attention. Glancing to the direction where they came from, Steve was walking back, wiping his eyes dry.

Breaking apart from Bucky, you focused back on Steve.

“Hey Stevie, ya ready?” You asked him softly.

Steve knew you were talking about the burial, which he didn’t feel he’d ever be ready. But he glanced to you, then to Bucky and he felt safe. He wasn’t alone, he had his family right here.

“I guess.” Steve muttered, starting to walk but slowed his pace when he felt you intertwine your fingers through his.

You and Steve were hand in hand, when suddenly you felt your right hand being laced with Bucky’s fingers. Glancing over to him, you met his soft eyes, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

Steve watched from the far left as you and Bucky gazed into each others eyes for a split second, and for the first time today, Steve smiled.

The three of you all made your way to the small crowd, holding hands, keeping each other grounded.

As long as you had each other, everything was going to be okay.

A/N: 40’s buck and steve hold such a special place in my heart and i felt i had to start a series set in the 40’s. a lot of this series i want to be domestic stuff, but eventually it will be full of drama and hydra EWW. i’m excited to see where this might go, let me know what you think🤍

[gay-jewish-bucky]

can we talk about the ableism/sexism of people having the serum change steve's sexual preferences?

so many people cannot fathom a disabled/chronically ill man who doesn't fit the masculine ideal (due to said health issues) being a dominant and/or a top, especially with a partner who is closer to normative masculinity, and must automatically be a bottom and submissive

yet once he gets the serum and becomes the perfect example of the masculine ideal there is no possible way that he could be a bottom or be submissive because that's not "manly" and magically turns into a dominant top

the serum amplifies what's already there, it wouldn't change what he likes in bed, it would strengthen it.

[femp4]

Yeah but also d/s au and Bucky is an agent and constantly has to go to Brock to take him down bc no one else in shield can, until he meets Steve - the cute small dom, working as analyst, and they fall in love. And like. Smut? Or maybe just some healthy bd.sm relationship.

[techdriveplay]

Is This the One Grooming Oil You Need? - REJUVENIQE

In recent years, the grooming industry has witnessed a seismic shift with more men embracing personal care routines that were once predominantly the domain of women. Central to this transformation is the increasing popularity of grooming oils, which offer a versatile solution to numerous skincare and haircare needs. Grooming oils have become a staple for men seeking a simplified, yet effective…

[apocketfullofmuses]

“You’re a really nice person” (Mels to Steve. So to set the story for this one, what if Mels went on that double date with her sister. Connie on a date with Bucky & Mels on a date with Steve. Imagine the chaos that would have done to timeline. ^__^)

For longer than it should have, the feeling that this was just a pity date had hung around in Steve's mind; it wouldn't have been the first time, either. There had been other dates, with some poor girl having to sit there - usually not hiding the fact that they wanted to be anywhere else - while their friend made eyes at Bucky. Steve was so used to it, to the point that he didn't even mind most of the time these days. Something about this one was different, though.

Steve had expected to have to make some attempt at small talk, that would inevitably fall flat - but that hadn't happened. For whatever reason, this girl - Melinda, actually wanted to talk to him? The longer the date went on, the more comfortable Steve felt talking to her; she was sweet, and funny - and he was sure he'd never seen such a pretty dame before. The tops of his ears turned pink at the compliment, a small smile finding it's way onto the young man's lips.

"Thanks ... you, uh, you're really nice too," he ducked his head down slightly, feeling bashful. "Do you .. uh ... do you wanna take a walk or something?" Even though things had been going well, Steve was still ready for her to say no.

@winloseorcharmed

[bucks-babe]

How Can I Forget You?

Follow my sideblog @bucks-babesideblog for updates on when I post

Pairing: Bucky x reader x Steve, Stucky x reader, Stucky

Summary: I literally don’t know how to summarize this. 40’s Bucky and Steve go to war, then you know what happens to them, Ladybird is left in the 40’s. Steve and Bucky are in the future. Will they get their Ladybird back?

Warnings: Angst (a lot of it), fluff, poly relationship, pre serum Steve, 40’s Bucky and Steve, 21st century!Bucky and Steve, some gay sex because it was getting too sad (anal fingering, anal, grinding naked), Peggy was never with Steve, implied suicide by alcohol, death of the reader in the 40’s, pet names (darling, ladybird, dumpling), crying, Jewish!Bucky, nostalgia, time jumps, happy ending because who do you think I am, I am not paying for anyone's therapy just so you know

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: There is no mention of the reader's body type nor race. Part of this fic does take place in the 40's, but I wanted to have a blank reader so that readers from any race can imagine themselves as Ladybird. There is no mention of period related homophobia because this shit was already too damn sad. If I missed any warnings, please let me know becuase I know that this fic is angsty and I want to make sure that everyone knows what they are getting into. Thanks to @buckys-wintersoldier for sacrificing her mental health for this fic 🤘

“Stevie, have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?” Steve blushes and hides his face in Bucky’s chest, breathing in his woodsy scent. “Don’t hide from me, punk, can’t see those pretty eyes anymore.” Running his fingers through Steve’s soft hair and trailing his hand down to the back of the smaller man’s neck, he gently brings his head back up, appreciating the soft, pink glow on his lover’s cheeks.

“Buck,” Steve trails off, not able to form a complete sentence when Bucky is looking at him like this - like he is gorgeous and not scrawny or undesirable. He doesn’t fight when Bucky brings their lips together, moaning at the taste of Bucky’s last cigarette. His eyes flutter as they pull away, both of their pupils blown, lips swollen and cheeks red. “You know, smoking is bad for you.”

Bucky grabs Steve and lays down on the couch, Steve resting between his legs. “I’m going to live until I’m 100, Stevie, smoking or not. You, my dear, are the one we need to worry about.”

“Like hell, you’re going to live that long with those habits. I’m healthy, it’s the doctors that keep telling me I’m not fit to join the army.” Bucky sighs. No matter how much he tries to stop Steve from enlisting, it never works. Not even their Ladybird can convince him.

“Stevie, please. I don’t want to hear anymore talk about this. Not today.” It’s their Ladybird that speaks, voice thick with emotion, yet stern. Neither of her boys would disobey her. She sets the tray with their sandwiches down and quickly leaves the room, palms frantically trying to smooth her dress down, pressing wrinkles that don’t exist.

Today was the day that Bucky had to leave. He didn’t enlist, not when his Ladybird wanted him at home, safe with her and Steve. She was terrified that he wouldn’t come home, leaving her and Steve behind.

But Steve was more stubborn than his man, not accepting staying at home when the men of his country are risking their lives. He needed to protect his country. “Stay here, dumpling.” Leaving a kiss on his forehead, Bucky follows Ladybird into the kitchen.

Two strong arms wrap around her waist and the tears she was desperate to hold in, cascade down her cheeks, ruining the makeup she spent so much time on. She was trying to be strong for him, support him before sending him off, but it was too much. Knowing that he could be killed at any moment, and these could be her final memories of him, was too overwhelming.

“I know, Ladybird, I know. I promise you that I’ll come home, okay? I can’t leave my best girl and guy alone.” She turns in his arms and his calloused palms rest on her cheeks, thumbs wiping away the stream of mascara running down her face.

“Steve, he, he can’t enlist, Buck. He just can’t. How am I supposed to stay here knowing that the loves of my life are out there, getting shot at, bombs going off, huh?” Steve sneaks in, snaking his arms around her waist.

“For you, Ladybird, I won’t. I’ll wait here with you, send Bucky letters, keep you safe, okay?” She knew it was a lie; Steve could never lie, but she chose to believe him in that moment. Maybe for her own sanity, or maybe just to savor the last moments she would ever get to spend with her men.

She was Bucky off, waving to him when he boarded the train, but when Steve left the house for errands she knew where he was going - she never saw him again, but she knew it was for his love for her and Bucky. She didn’t blame him.

***

When Steve woke up from the ice, the first thing he did was see if his Ladybird was still alive. From the moment he got the serum, he regretted lying to her. He knew when he looked in her eyes, she knew what he was going to do; she accepted his choice. It was who he was and she wouldn’t dream of him being anything else.

He cried that night, when Fury gave him the documents he so graciously printed from Google. Ladybird died only a few years after he went on ice. She never moved on. They said it was a broken heart, but the 40’s would never report a woman drinking herself to death, wallowing in the sorrow of lost love.

It was his fault. Maybe she could have healed from the loss of Bucky if he was there. It would never take away the pain, but she would have one of them, but he left her behind. He would visit her grave daily; her body six feet below him, wearing the dog tags of her lovers.

The pain was eased when he found Bucky. They had each other. Even when he couldn’t remember much, Bucky remembered his Ladybird. Steve wishes he could forget the day he had to tell the man he loved that their girl was dead.

“I still want to be with you, Steve.” It took a while before Bucky was stable enough to choose to love again, but it was never a hard decision. The love for Steve too much to ignore.

Their first time was much different from the 40’s. They both changed so much - Steve more so than Bucky. They couldn’t get each other naked fast enough, kisses and loving touches scattered throughout.

Bucky didn’t feel embarrassed by his arm, not when Steve’s eyes were filled with so much love and lust. Bucky had to look away, his eyes landing on his boyfriend’s cock. “Oh my god, Steve!” He didn’t mean to gawk but he couldn’t help it. Steve went from slightly below average to very much above it. Long and thick, veins pulsing through his cock, supplying enough blood to keep his large erection up.

“What? Oh.” Steve’s signature blush crept up his cheeks just like it used to. Even though his body changed so dramatically, he was still the same boy from Brooklyn Bucky fell in love with. “You’re bigger too, Buck.” Steve shied away from Bucky’s gaze, worried about how Bucky’s cock was going to fit inside of him.

“It hasn’t changed that much, dumpling.” It was almost true. Bucky was always above average - maybe seven inches. He was always thick, but now? His cock looked like it doubled in thickness, and around an inch added to his length.

“Yeah, right.” Bucky beamed at Steve as he became more comfortable under Bucky’s gaze.

“Well, how about we compare sizes then?” They both groan at the first contact in years, dicks pressed against each other. “Won’t you look at that, you’re bigger than me, dumpling.” Steve’s face scrunched in confusion, trying to focus through the haze of pleasure. There was no way that he was bigger than Bucky.

Nonetheless, Steve looks down, almost cumming at the sight of his lover’s cock leaking onto his. His eyes widened; he was bigger than Bucky. It was only by an inch, even with the serum thickening his cock, Bucky was still much thicker. “Good boy, see how pretty your cock is? Fuck, missed you so much.”

Bucky groans in between words as he grinds against Steve, cock pushed harder against his. Steve’s hands find the sides of Bucky’s face, pulling him down in a heated kiss while ropes of his cum shoot out onto both of their stomachs and chests. Bucky follows right after, not able to handle the pleasure the simple grind of their hips brings him as they both share their first orgasm since the 40’s.

He collapses on Steve’s chest while they both catch their breath. “Darling, I need your cock in me. Need to feel how you stretch me out.” Bucky’s cock instantly hardens.

“Fuck, dumpling, we don’t have lube.” Even in his lust filled state, Bucky knows that going any further would hurt.

“Don’t need it. Look at all our cum.” Bucky looks down and whimpers. The serum really did a number on them. His first orgasm in 80 years was a lot. The mixture of their cum was dripping down Steve’s sides and leaking down Bucky’s chest. He quickly dips down to get a mouthful of their cum, moaning as he shares it with Steve. “You taste just as good as I remember, Buck.”

Bucky scoops a generous amount onto two of his fingers while Steve eagerly spreads his legs, presenting his tight hole to his partner. At this moment, it’s just the two of them. The pain of their Ladybird is gone, if only momentarily.

The moan that leaves Steve’s lips as Bucky’s first finger breeches his hole is almost enough to have him cumming untouched. He doesn’t know how long he stretches Steve out for, but it was enough time to have Steve cumming on his chest again, giving Bucky more lube to use.

“Ready, dumpling? Ready for your sergeant’s cock?” Steve only moans, frantically nodding his head. No one would have thought that the tough captain was so submissive in bed. Bucky strokes his cock with Steve’s spend a few times before lining up with his stretched out hole.

He meets little resistance as his tip slips in. “Fuck, Steve. Think you’re even fucking tighter.” He has to close his eyes, balls pulsing and pulling up already. Steve’s tight ass ready to suck all of his cum out.

“Uh, uh, just bigger. So much bigger.” Steve’s mind was empty, only wanting his ass full. He cries when Bucky hikes his legs up, wanting to be as close as possible. “Wait, please.” Bucky immediately eases his cock out, knowing that he’s a lot bigger to take now. After a few minutes, Steve’s breath evens out and his eyes lock with Bucky’s, nodding at his lover.

As gently as he can, Bucky slides back inside his ass, slowly feeding Steve inch after inch. “How full are you, Stevie?” It wasn’t smug; Bucky needed to know that Steve was okay. Leaning down, Bucky presses his forehead against Steve’s, staring into his eyes. Tears fall from both of their eyes, connected so intimately again.

“So full, Buck.” He leans up to capture Bucky’s lips in a kiss, neither able to think straight, let alone kiss properly.

“I love you so fucking much, dumpling.” Steve cries out, hips jerking in an attempt to take more of his sergeant’s dick. As Bucky’s hips rest against Steve’s center, they both cum, chanting each other’s name like a mantra, whispers of their love passed back and forth. Neither of them can stop, trying to make up for all the years spent apart. All the years each spent mourning the loss of the other.

By the end of the night, they’re both spent. Cuddled in each other’s arms, Bucky is the first to break the silence. “Is it just me, or does this almost feel wrong without Ladybird?”

“It does, but she wouldn’t want us to stop loving each other.” Bucky doesn’t respond, caught up in his own mind. The pain from losing their Ladybird would never go away and they both knew that.

***

“Dumpling, you should stay there.” It’s said so quietly that if Steve wasn’t a super soldier he wouldn’t have heard him.

“Excuse me?” Steve pulls away, quickly sitting up in the bed.

“You should stay with her. You deserve it - she deserves it.” Bucky hangs his head, not able to look Steve in the eyes.

“And you don’t?”

“No. After all I’ve done, I’d only taint her. She doesn’t deserve that.” It was a decision that Bucky thought long and hard about.

“You think she would believe that? That I would? I just lost you, Buck and you’re asking me to do it again.” Steve stands and paces around the room, not able to comprehend what his boyfriend was saying.

“Think about it, Stevie. At least she would have one of us. You know what happened when she found out we both were ‘dead.’”

“Drop it, okay?” And Bucky did, but he planted the seed inside Steve’s mind.

***

“I’ll never stop loving you, Darling.” Bucky nodded, failing to hold in his tears, knowing that this was the last time he was going to see his best guy.

“Take care of her for me, yeah?”

“You know I will.” He grabs Bucky’s face, sharing their last kiss, tears mixing together. “And don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” His voice cracks, saying his final goodbye.

Bucky swallows hard. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” He caresses Steve’s cheek once more and pats it, letting his hand fall down. They look at each other in silence, burning this memory into their brains.

He can’t bear to look at Bucky when he gets on the pad.

***

Steve’s throat is tight as he looks at his old brownstone. His Ladybird is right behind the door, having no idea who is outside. He picks up the spare key - exactly where it always was.

He has to close his eyes, taking in the familiar scent of the home he shared with his two loves. Stepping over the threshold, he sees her and his breath gets caught in his throat. “Ladybird?” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice, so unsure and in disbelief of what he was seeing.

Her head whips around; the dish she was washing shatters as it hits the ground. “Stevie?” His feet are glued to the ground, back hitting the closed door as he tries not to fall to his knees. “Is it really you?” Unlike him, Ladybird sprints to him, her dress fluttering at the speed she moves, the dog tags of her lovers jiggle with every step.

She almost tackles him to the ground, arms intertwined around his neck, legs clutching his waist. He catches her easily, his own arms squeezing her to his chest. Both of their sobs mix together as Steve drops down on the couch, legs no longer able to hold him up. “I thought you were dead. They send soldiers here and everything.” Steve couldn’t form an explanation, too caught up in her entire being.

He can only pull her into a kiss. It was messy, full of tears and snot, but neither of them cared. She didn’t know how long he waited for this moment. They held each other for hours, crying and kissing. Eventually, she fell asleep in his arms.

Steve didn’t have it in him to put her down as he went around the house. Everything was just as he remembered. The kitchen table, engraved with all their initials, still had three chairs around it, each one in different states of ruin - Bucky always flopped in his chair leaving the legs wobbly. Steve’s favorite mug sat on the lowest shelf, right where pre-serum Steve could reach, even though Bucky loved to put it up higher so that Steve had to ask for his help.

The living room still held the old rickie bookshelf that Ladybird insisted that she could put together by herself, no matter how many times her men offered help. Upon it was Bucky’s first edition copy of The Hobbit. He and Ladybird would always make fun of him for how much time, money, and effort he spent just to get that book - Steve placed it in a box along with the recipes from Mrs. Barnes.

The bedroom made his breath hitch, his arms instinctively holding Ladybird closer. His favorite chair, ripped in multiple spots, sat in the corner of the room, right by the window. Right next to it was his stand where his old sketchbook sat untouched - he put that in the box too. Bucky’s side of the closet hung his clothes, neatly arranged in order of his favorites, while Steve’s clothes lay on the ground in a pile, always too lazy to fold them.

The top left dresser draw held the photo album Ladybird made them for Christmas/Hanukkah - that went in the box. Ladybird’s jewelry box had a necklace with the Star of David that she saved for to get Bucky on his birthday. Bucky gave it back to her before he left for safekeeping - in the box it went. On top of the dresser were all the letters she sent to Bucky and Steve, along with the letters they sent her. The army gave them back to her with their dog tags - Steve made sure to not damage them as they were placed in the box.

***

The team shared gasps and whispers between themselves as Steve reappeared with a woman in one arm and a small box in the other. He whispers something in her ear before pointing in the distance.

A gorgeous smile graces her lips as her eyes meet Steve’s target. She doesn’t hesitate to sprint across the grass, bare feet and ignoring all of the Avengers. Bucky doesn’t hear the beat of her steps, overwhelmed at the loss of both of his partners.

He doesn’t know what hit him as he falls to the ground. Kisses are placed all over his face. For a second, he thinks that he’s dreaming because he would know her smell anywhere, the feeling of her lips ingrained in his mind. But even in his dreams, he couldn’t hear her voice, always muffled and distant, but it was clear as day as he lay on the soft ground.

“Bucky!” He has to grab her face to stop her assault, pulling her back far enough to confirm that it was real, that his Ladybird was in his arms.

“Bird? Oh my god.” He pulls her back down, showering her with affection, practically rolling them around in the grass, not caring about the audience that slowly surrounded them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Her tears come back once again. His hair was longer, worry lines sprinkled around his face, cool metal pressed against her right cheek, his right hand more callused than before. Steve told her a bit about what happened, about how Bucky lost his arm, how insecure he felt because of it.

Without pause, she tilts her head, soft lips placed delicately on his metal palm. “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” Stuck in their own little bubble, they don’t notice Steve laying beside them until his arms wrap around them both.

With one look he gets the rest of the Avengers to leave them in peace. Unlike his past self, Steve could lie when he needed to. He knew that Bucky wouldn’t have let him go to return the stones if he knew Steve wasn’t going to stay. Laying a kiss to Bucky’s forehead, Steve takes in the sight before him, all of them together at last.

“Bucky, you were right. I did take all the stupid with me.” Bucky’s tear streaked face looks over at his partner.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, dumpling.” For the first time since before the war, all three of them felt at peace, finally in each other’s arms again. It may have taken 80 some years, but none of them would change a thing if there was even the smallest chance that they wouldn’t end up together.

[hitlikehammers]

Post S4 Steddie featuring Russian-Hostage!Steve (again) and Ransom Notes Sent to His Family (!)—hilarious

...but is it?

Steve doesn’t remember getting drunk as fuck. In fact, he…

This doesn’t even feel like a hangover, not exactly. There’s the headache, the stomach-lurching, but there’s a, a weight almost. Something in his limbs that feels off and too stiff but also like noodles, if you could make noodles out of lead. This, this kinda feels like—

His hand goes automatically to his neck, near his jaw, tries to see if he can feel—

Ah. Okay. Yep. Already scabbed over the injection site. Must’ve been something else this time, like probably a bigger needle. Sedative to start, maybe. Like the appetizer course.

Steve starts chuckling to himself—no off-the-books truth serum needed to get hysterical, not this time—as he tosses himself to lying back down, only then really clocking the cuffs on his wrists and, well.

At least he’s not in a fucking sailor suit.

——

When he calms down, and no one’s come for him into his very unexciting grey-stone cell for enough minutes to trust in a lull, at least, where he can just…just try and think?

He does in fact think he’s got something of an outline for maybe, like, the first leg of the story: they had to have gotten him after work.

Probably right after work, between locking up and getting to his car. He closed alone last nigh—

Well. The last time he remembers being at Family Video, he was closing alone. If he’s waking up drugged, it’s probably not super smart to just assume it was ‘last night’ by default.

Not that he’s sure it even matters, but.

Everyone knew he was closing. And everyone, except his boyfriend and sometimes Robs, knows to leave him be for a good twelve-to-twenty-four hours to recover when he’s soloing for the late shift on a weekend. Fucking brutal, honestly. Plus there’s a stormfront on the way and he’s had a migraine brewing at the back of his skull for days that was due to explode the minute he clocked out. Rob’s in Chicago scoping colleges, wasn’t gonna be back until midday after his shift anyway. Eddie was doing the same, but in Indy, looking to book gigs—he’d get back around sunup, probably, and he might come by as his first stop home, in fact he usually does and...

If anyone’s noticed Steve’s missing? Or will, maybe soon?

Might…might actually be Eddie, first.

Steve feels…more than a little tight in the chest, in his throat, having to think about it; imagining if the tables were turned.

So he shifts tacks, moves quick to trying and figure out what the fuck he’s been abducted for in the first place—yeah they’re gearing up for the eventual final showdown with Vecna, but once the ash stopped raining, and the sky went back to generally regular colors, and the government paid to fill in enough of the ‘earthquake’ damage for the roads that were still drivable to be noticeably better than they were pre-apocalypse? People generally calmed down, so. He really doesn’t know who the fuck’s got it out for him. He actually hasn’t broken his NDA, particularly considering he doesn’t even socialize with anyone anymore who hasn’t signed one themselves, and therefore doesn’t count on the subject of keeping to the terms of service, and honestly? Even peak-Vecna with his clock bullshit didn’t have a real-world army to do his bidding because, like: shit. That’s still the thing he’s pissy about, right? So.

It’s not like whoever’s-got-him-chained-up-because-if-anything-they’re-more-serious-about-imprisonment-than-he’s-encountered-before—but whoever they are, Steve cannot for the life of him figure out a good reason for them to be after him on Upside Down business.

So, like: the fuck, you know?

He’s trying to figure out property damage, like did he ruin someone’s prize roses when he was driving that RV, or else; was the couple who owned that RV, like, retired assassins and they’d been gearing up for revenge this whole time? That was plausibl—

The door—thicker, heavier than Steve actually was guessing—swings open with a godawful screech before he can weigh the likelihoods of the wife, or husband, or both having been secretly cold-blooded-killers, and in walks…

Oh. Oh, so…it is actually that predictable. Same script, different scenery.

Because Steve knows that fucking uniform, and it’s actually involuntary, swear to god, the way he sighs.

He gets slapped for it, which would hurt less than the first go around—those gut shots had been brutal—if the asshole hadn’t been wearing rings.

Not nice ones like Eddie’s, either. Ones meant to fucking tear skin and peel at the layers beneath it, too. Bear down to the bone, if given the time.

Steve feels the blood drip down toward his mouth, but there’s enough that he tastes it on the air before it even rolls past his lips. He’s panting a little, more for the sake of the impact, like the shock of it, but even then he hears it. The…weird whirring through the open door and he tries to catch his breath so he can focus, because there’s something…familiar about it, something he should know—

“Who do you work for?”

He snaps back to what’s in front of him and fuck, god, so: same script.

But, but: literally.

He instinctively curls his fingernails against his palms; knee jerk reaction. And fucking justified, too.

“Video store,” Steve answers because, what else, and good thing he’s still wearing his vest, was taking it home to wash because it smelled too much like…store. He nods down at the logo on his chest, pulled awkward and lying askew but pretty goddamn clear. “Like VHS tapes. Movies.”

He gets another slap. He’s grateful for even more reasons that Robin’s not with him this time. They’re not even proper Russian cinephiles, she’d be so offended on principle.

“I mean,” Steve decides in a split second to play along, to roll the dice with his chances on his lonesome and be grateful—and maybe because the thought of Robin, following the thought of Eddie and his rings, all weaves together to make him bold, but also make him desperate: he doesn’t want them in danger. Doesn’t want anyone goaded by these bastards into coming for him, wherever he is, and getting themselves hurt. Or worse.

So: maybe goading this captors into thinking he’s not worth the time anymore and making this quick?

Maybe that’s the card he’s gotta play.

“I’m guessing you think I know shit because of Starcourt,” and yep. Eyes get big for that being slid across the metaphorical table so casual. But Steve’s more impressed at himself because the minute he says it? The humming sound, the whirring? It clicks.

It’s what he heard in that underground lab. With that machine. With them trying to, to tear open—

“I don’t, for the record, know anything, Steve clarifies; “but if I’m like, missing for too long? My friends are gonna flip, and last time my friends were with me, y’know, so this time,” Steve sucks at his front teeth and shakes his head, and it fools them while it grounds him: two-for-one.

“They’ll freak, basically. Especially after last time,” his boldness lasts him through tossing his captors—maybe torturers—a judgmental quirk of his brow.

“Probably gonna tell Hopper like, y’know, chief of police,” he adds, blames Eddie for the theatricality buried in it as he purses his lips and nods like he’s considering; tries not to dwell on a deeper reason for why these bastards are letting him talk—nope. Nope, shove those thoughts down, just keep talking yourself, ignore the steady trickle of blood down to his tongue as he yaps.

“And Hopper, hell, it’s not his first rodeo, so he’ll probably call the suits,” Steve presses on Because what else does he have, what else can he do, he can barely fucking move; “you know, like you,” he nods at the medals on the very Soviet-style uniform; “but the American version. He’s got friends. So.”

And Steve manages to stare the fucker down, just eye-to-eye as the man scowls, glances at his associate standing closer to the door and—

Yep: yep. Another slap with those rings. Steve can’t pretend the blood’s not spilling from the line where the impact dug out his skin. He’s glad there’s no mirror; can only imagine what it looks like.

Sure as fuck knows what it feels like.

“I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know,” Steve doesn’t even think he’s trying to reason with them, wonders idly if he’s like, some Russian-identified spokesman now for all things spy-y and otherworldly, like if his picture’s on a cork board with strings going around it as the number-one suspect-slash-target-to-pump-for-nonexistent-info.

Fucking fantastic.

“I work for a video store, dude,” he finishes with, and it doesn’t even come out desperate, or pleading—it’s way closer to resigned.

“We will see.”

The man grabs Steve’s chin rough, too rough and for a second? Steve’s a little afraid he’s gonna try to snap his neck but he just shoved him back, straight into the wall—cracks his spine a little, but. Actually, given his limited range of motion, it kinda gets out at least a couple kinks. Huh.

Silver linings, or whatever.

But then they’re leaving, and something leaps in Steve chest uncomfortably, just as something sinks in his stomach and the whirring, the hum from beyond the door sinking with it, too—ominous—and he’s lunging against his restraints without thinking, cringing for the bite of the metal but there’s…something in him wants more time with these people. To figure them out. Maybe just to stall for time or find the one last straw to break and get himself beaten to death, no longer a threat to his friends by proxy.

“We have Sour Patch Kids, now!” Steve calls out on a freak instinct, a stupid desperate whim as they walk out, maybe more to drown out the whirring, the pit that’s opening in his stomach for all the memories its familiarity dredges up; “can totally hook you guys up!”

The door shakes the air somehow, but not the walls, or Steve’s chains, when it slams closed and Steve can’t hear the machine anymore, it’s all cut off and—

Holy shit, Steve is so fucked.

——

They keep sliding sandwiches and water through a hole they literally lock and unlock in the thick-as-fuck-special-soundproof door. Steve is reminded weirdly—or not, it all looks perfectly normal—but given the circumstances, he thinks he’s justified to be thrown back to that lime-green battery acid they’d considered drinking in the elevator: and that, probably more than anything, is why he refuses to touch a single bit of what’s shoved into his cell.

Well: that and then also the fact that no one actually comes in for a long stretch of time, and there’s no noise, save for…the hum. Only when they open the little hatch for food, at first but…then it increases. Then it somehow overrides what Steve imagines to be a pretty fucking effective insulation job to make everything thus far so soundproofed; so deadened. The fact that it even bleeds through a little sinks sicker in his stomach than hunger ever could.

Because definitely, one-hundred-percent, in case there’s been any doubts hanging on: it’s the machine, the thing they were using before to rip holes in…the world. As if Hawkins needed any more but—

The Russians want to know who he works for, and they’re trying to unleash the Upside Down. Again.

Jesus Christ.

It might be comical, the repetition after everything, with even less reason—the gates have been shut and sealed now almost a full year and shit, the whole party had been banging on about a cookout to celebrate, to sneak in one good thing before it was time to strike against Vecna for the last time, and Steve really hopes they don’t abandon the well-earned party for the sake of his imminent demise but, point is: it would be comical, almost definitely, if it weren’t so fucking horrifying.

They thought this was over. This part at least, the peripherals. Steve was the last real holdout to be on high alert, everyone was trusting in the alert system that was El and Will and even him and Eddie a little bit from the bats, all connected to some degree with activity in the Upside Down and everyone else was counting on that and trying to live in the middle while they could and…shit.

Look where it got Steve, giving in to the hope for an end in sight, and maybe even a happy one at that.

It runs sick through his veins, now that he’s thinking about it, about any of the possible outcomes and ramifications beyond this cell and…basically Steve’s glad he hasn’t trusted a bite or a sip of anything they’ve left him, lest he have to endure anything worse than dry heaving in captivity.

——

Eveually, Steve goes back to counting out the positives. It’s a fairly safe subject. Morbid, maybe, but what else has he got?

His friends aren’t here. He’s lonely, but honestly, even if that’s a part of his life that’s seen major improvement the past couple years? It’s not something he isn’t used to, can’t work with. But if his friends aren’t here? They’re safe. El or Will can tell there’s something weird with the Upside Down if the machine gets powerful enough, they’ll all be able to come up with a plan and strike when the time’s right, and Steve…

Steve can survive a little longer, at least as a distraction, even if he’s apparently a shitty one since people aren’t coming in to ask about the latest new releases, or smack his other cheek and give him a matching set of bloody gouges.

The machine, also—and why he figures he might not outlive the time it takes for the others to notice a disturbance in the Force—ha, they’re not even here to appreciate his wholly unprompted and almost definitely correct nerd reference, but that’s good: they’re not here, they’re safe—but the machine is humming, and turned on? But even at a distance it should be louder. It should be louder to destroy the world.

They’re not there yet. They’re not there yet; there’s still time, and Steve may not be there to help everyone fight, to protect them but—

There’s time.

And then like, of course, full circle: no Scoops uniform, check—those shorts bunched up his ass like nobody’s business. He cannot forget that as a massive plus, here, because come on, think about it: decked out like a shitty ice cream sailor on an ocean of flavor, Jesus.

Just a flat out shitty way to have to die.

——

“We have sent the ransom demands.”

Steve blinks; he was kinda spacing out. He probably shouldn’t be able to do that. The machine isn’t any louder—yet—but it’s…ambient, in a way.

Morbid, probably. Again.

The lack of eating or drinking might be getting to him. He really should have eaten before his shift.

“The what?” Steve blinks some more because…maybe if he can see clearer he can hear the words in a way that’ll make sense.

Jesus fuck, he should probably start being concerned about his…overall cognitive function or whatever, at this point.

Or something.

“You are a rich man,” the main bastard, with the rings, looms over Steve with a skeevy little grin, cracks his knuckles and how, he’s watched Eddie struggle because it’s so hard to get your fingers in the right position to do it with rings on—

“You’ve got the wrong guy, pal, look at these shoes,” Steve shakes his head while he kicks his feet out: “very last season.”

They’re still fucking excellent shoes, but. High-school-him wouldn’t have been caught dead in them.

Ha. Haha. Graduated-useless-townie-him is gonna get caught dead in them. Ha.

Add that to the positives list, because irony is sometimes funny. He listens when Robin tells him about her boring-ass art movies. Because Robin’s opinions matter, regardless of the topic.

“Property records,” the lackey who stands behind points out and it takes Steve a second to catch up…rich man. Property records.

Ransom note—

Oh fuck, but he cannot help himself. He snorts.

And then he laughs hard enough that both his captors actually look concerned which: fair. If he had information, it’s probably hard to wring anything useful out of somehow who’s totally lost their mind.

“Dude,” Steve wheezes, and then gets back to cackling because it’s too funny, just the picture in his head—

“Dude, no,” he shakes his head over and over and gets a little dizzy but who can even blame him. Richard and Amelia Harrington, paying their failure of a son’s ransom to the Russians?!

Fuck, they’d be better off putting up a shitty politician and soliciting their donations. Like the whole thing with mayor what’s-his-face.

Steve really doesn’t need any black market drugs to find it hilarious and, like, honestly.

Going out laughing isn’t the worst way to die, so. Seriously.

Mark that down for topping the list of goddamn positives.

——

He doesn’t actually know how long it’s been, but the time does come where he gives in, and is therefore eating the morning and the afternoon sandwiches he’s been left—they don’t take the uneaten stuff until he’s sleeping, given that he’s never seen them do it and the old food’s always gone. He’s only guessing that he gets three plates a day, and…well. He remembers something Erika said about three days without water being the limit for the human body and it sure as fuck felt like it, and poison seemed a better alternative than thirst as reasons for kicking the bucket, so.

Least it wasn’t the neon acid; little mercies. Gotta remember that.

But on an empty stomach it had gone down easy and quick for desperation, but fuck if now it didn’t hurt which: in for a penny, or whatever the saying was. He didn’t understand it. Just knew it fit the situation. Kinda.

Probably.

He’s curled up now, though, kinda moaning super pathetically, almost loud enough to drown out the machine’s hum even, for the way his stomach roils and he tries to distract himself; tries to think…

He is just clearheaded enough to recognize how morbid he’s being, again—but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. And also it’s relevant, so fuck you, morbid-police.

But: Max’s letters. They’re what comes to mind.

He doesn’t have paper. Or a pen. Or something to etch into the floor with. So it’s just a…thought exercise. That’s what they’re called, right?

Whatever. Distraction. He cannot die covered in his own puke, that’s one bridge too far, so he needs to focus. Not on the state of his intestines.

So…start with, who should he start with?

Hmm. Hmmmmmm.

El. She’ll figure things out first so:

Dear El

Solid start. Good job, Steve.

You are fucking extraordinary, and it’s not for being able to move stuff with your mind. You’re so strong, and brave, and selfless. I look up to you. I like when they call you Supergirl, but, like, those are the reasons why. Keep finding reasons for laughing, remember you’re entitled to extra because of all the dark years you came back stronger from. Remember the way you are and the way you think and the things you do are awesome and you don’t have to relearn anything you don’t want to, or change anything you don’t want to, to fit in. People should be trying to be more like you.

Love you, Supergirl.

P.S. there’s a freezer in the basement fucking loaded with Eggos. All yours. 

Hey. That’s a solid letter. He’s not bad at this.

Then his stomach lurches and apparently he’s not even allowed to celebrate his wins, okay, fucking cool.

Who’s next, who’s next…

Dear Dustin, and maybe that’s the best way; this is gonna hurt like hell just thinking about so maybe, like, that’s the best way to distract himself.

Okay. Okay. All or nothing.

You die, I die was a general feeling, thing, not a real thing. So take care of yourself, for real, okay? Lean on people. If the other shitheads aren’t what you need, turn to Robin. Turn to Eddie. Promise me you’ll be everything you’re meant to be. I’m so proud to know you, man, always. All the things about you are things worth being proud of.

Talk to Eddie about tone, though. Like, when the time’s right.

Thanks for being the first person to show me what family’s really like, what it’s supposed to be. You’re mine, y’know. Like, you’re my brother, but then, you’re also my friend. Thanks for that, too. I love you, man.

P.S. They discontinued The Hairspray. Be on the lookout for a good replacement, and conserve what you have for special occasions. 

The cuts on his cheeks are apparently not yet healed over enough not to burn when the tears streak through. Awesome.

Definitely fucking distracting so…run with it, he guesses.

Dear Max,

Thanks for the idea. 

Cop out. Absolute cop out. He means it, this is helpful, he hasn’t barfed yet which is really the point but.

He’s being a coward, now. Seriously.

It needs to hurt. If he actually put himself into writing Max’s it’d be ugly, but…

Go big or go home. And he’s never going home again, is he, so:

Dear Robin

Fuck. Fuck, his breath catches with just those two words.

I’m really glad we never figured out how to meld into a single being, because I don’t want you here when…you know. When.

But I wish you were here in a safe way, if that makes sense, and somehow were possible. They don’t call them soulmates for no reason. And I never called you mine without meaning it.

If there’s anything after, I will miss you through all of it with everything I am and hope like hell when the time’s right—like at least 90 years from now and no less, you understand?—I get to see you again. Maybe then we can work on the melding thing and get it right.

I liked being your dingus. So much. And I will always be your capital-P soulmate.

I’m sorry. 

He doesn’t even remember his stomach hurting from the sandwiches, anymore, or drinking the water too fast. He’s sick for so much bigger reasons, now. Everything fucking hurts.

That’s the point, he reminds himself, that’s the point, so:

Dear Eddie—

He chokes on the air, just for the thought, because here’s the tipping point. Here’s where he breaks.

He can’t. He can’t.

He loves all of them. All of them.

But he’s only in love with one. Like he’s never loved before. Like he’s never been loved back before, not ever.

He doesn’t know if it’s possible to pass out from heartache, or if it’s more the not eating, or drinking, or if he’s feverish, maybe the cuts on his cheeks from the rings are infected and he’s on borrowed time in more ways than one.

Doesn’t matter. He can’t write a letter to Eddie, not even in his head. And he doesn’t want to think about what it means, such a nonexistent-mental-letter.

Someone told him once that if you were falling to your death, you’d pass out before impact. Like…like self-preservation in your last few seconds or something.

Steve thinks—with the way everything fades to black in seemingly seconds—he thinks this is…kinda like that.

So the big question now is:

DOES HE SURVIVE? SHOULD HE GET RESCUED?!?!

*chews nails, or hair, or—*

yeah, like that

For @devondespresso, who requested 'Nightmares' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST (sorry it's in the contexts of LIVING ONE OUT) and incidentally also for @steddie-week for the Day Two prompt 'Hands' (which okay if you DO NOT want a rescue it's only in mean violent ways but...he could be rescued)

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @lawrencebshoggoth @mensch-anthropos-human

divider credits here

ao3 link here ✨

[rainbowsuitcase]

18+ smut

Top!Steve has been on my mind a bunch. Pre-serum Steve who needs to feel in control and like he has the power sometimes, and Bucky who is more than happy to let him have that.

Maybe Steve rides him occasionally, as a treat, squeezing tight around him and setting the pace agonizingly teasing until they both run out of patience. Even rarely, Bucky gets to ride Steve, press him into the mattress and show off the curves of his own body as he bounces on Steve's cock.

Bucky is rarely on top, and practicaly never as the one doing the fucking. It's less that Steve doesn't like it and more that it's not what Steve needs from him, and Bucky always wants his boy happy and satisfied.

Neither of them expects anything to change after the serum. There's no reason to. But the first time they get some privacy and time to do more than quickly jerk each other off...

It starts off perfectly fine. They're kissing, making out to muffle each other's noises, Steve's biting Bucky's lip as he preps him, the mood between them almost celebratory. Everything is fine until Steve slides in and bottoms out.

He loses rhythm quicky. His thrusts turn slow and jerky, hips twitching in a way that really doesn't do anything for Bucky. Steve's shoulders are shaking, his head buried in Bucky's neck almost like he's trying to hide.

Bucky slides his hands over Steve's shoulders, gentle. "Stevie?"

"S-sorry," Steve gasps, possibly shaking even more, hips stilling except for the smallest twitches, like he can't help it. "Sorry, I- it's- sensitive and I'm- you-"

"You're thinking too hard," Bucky says softly, almost hugging Steve's shoulders, feeling him nod into his neck. "Lemme help?" he offers, pressing into Steve's side to make it clear what he means. "Lemme take care of you? You work so hard, sweetheart, you deserve it."

Steve keeps babbling out apologies, but he nods clearly and that's all the permission Bucky needs to turn them over and squeeze around his cock. Steve interrupts himself with a gasp and Bucky grins, already moving his hips as he leans down to keep kissing him.

"Shh, it's alright," he whispers. "Lemme take care of you, lemme give you what you need." He slides his hand over Steve's chest and watches him throw his head back, moaning through clenched teeth.

"Bucky!"

"Yeah, that's it, baby, that's it."

Steve's hand keep moving, sliding over Bucky's thighs and sides, clenching on his hips like he doesn't know what to do with them. Experimentally, Bucky grabs them and presses them into the mattress above Steve's head.

Steve whines and arches off the bed, and Bucky grins.

He always wants his boy happy and satisfied, and if what Steve needs now is to not be in charge, Bucky is more than happy to give him that.

[ice-eise-babyy]

Pure | JB.B - Drabble

Pairing: 40's!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader (ft. Pre-serum!Steve Rogers)

Summary: a very drunk bucky who refuses to leave the pub with a 'crazy lady' a.k.a his girlfriend.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol but other than that, its mainly just fluff guys

A/N: I dont even know if this is any good but i hope you guys enjoy it <33

You would be lying if you said you didn't want to hurl something—anything— at Steve's head right at this moment. It's almost 10:00 p.m and instead of being in bed drifting off to sleep, you were currently out in the streets of Brooklyn on the way to a pub, who wouldn't want to hurl someone in the head with something?

"I'm really sorry y/n. I really wouldn't have woken you up if—" Steve's 20th apology this night was shortly cut of as you gave him a sideward glare. You felt slightly guilty after doing so, knowing that you were pinning this on him even though you were partially at fault.

If you had agreed to Bucky early this morning then you probably wouldn't be awake at this unforsaken hour. You probably wouldn't have Steve throwing rocks at your window to wake you up, and you probably wouldn't be walking to a pub to pick up your boyfriend who apparently refused to leave because he wanted to see you. You sighed, recollecting the conversation you had with him earlier today.

—

"But y/n..." you rolled your eyes at his dramatic whining. "Bucky, you're just going to spend the day with Steve. It's not the end of the world." You had been convincing him to spend more time with steve for almost a week now mainly because he has been spending most of his time with you, even sleeping at your apartment. The reason being he had to leave for wisconsin in 2 days because of military training.

As much as you want to grab bucky's face in your hands and look him in the eye while saying 'i also want to spend the day with you' and have him to yourself, you knew that if you do that you would be selfish. You knew that he might end up regretting not spending more time with Steve before leaving, he just probably haven't realized that yet.

"Can you atleast come with us, doll?"

"No, Bucky. absolutely not. if i come with you, you'd probably ignore Steve the whole time."

—

You smoothed out your Navy colored dress before shoving your white gloves deep in the pocket of your coat. You slowly walked in when Steve opened the door of the pub entrance for you. There weren't much people, mostly just soldiers who came back from war or just men in general. Your eyes darted around the place and a sigh of relief fell from your lips as your eyes landed on Bucky. He was sitting on one of the stools with only his side facing you, his forehead pressed on the bar counter as he looked down at his hands that were resting on his lap, he was humming a familiar song as he did so. He was looking at his hands like it was the most interesting thing to ever exist. His eyes wide and his lips pursed. You felt a warmth in your chest as you peered at his drunken state for a few beats longer. He was out for only a few hours and to you it also felt like just a few hours but to your heart... to your heart it felt like so long, long enough to have it yearning for him. yearning for his touch, his voice, his love...

You sighed once more as you sat down right beside him. He paid you no attention, eyes still on his hand and still humming the same song. Your lips tugged into a smile as you realized what song he was humming. It was 'when you wish upon a star' by glenn miller. It was the song playing when you had danced with him for the first time.

"Bucky?"

"Go away miss. I have a girlfriend" he was so quick to turn you away, mistaking you for another woman because he haven't looked at you once. This sparked an idea. A funny and harmless one.

"Oh, you do? too bad."

"Yeah, too bad for you— *hic* not for me. I'm happy where i am."

"Really? tell me then, mister. How is she like?"

He still hasn't looked at you. In his head he thought that there was no point in looking at other women because those other woman aren't even you. the only problem was it was you but of course he didn't know that yet. A wide smile adorned his face as he heard your words. Oh boy was he excited to brag about you.

"She is amazing. Words would never ever be enough to describe her beauty. It's unparalleled— *hic* and it's not... not just her face that's beautiful," even though you couldn't see the entirety of his face you didn't fail to notice the dreamy smile tugging in the corner of his lips, "Her soul as well and her smile— oh her smile... it just makes me— *hic* make me warm in here..." his hand pressed on his chest and gripped it like he was trying his best to pull his heart out just to show you where exactly he felt the warmth. "I really really want to marry her but she said that— *hic* i gotta win the war first... Stupid fucking nazi's" his fists clenched as he muttered that last words.

Your bottom lip found its way between your teeth as you tried to hold back your laughter. This was a rare sight to see your boyfriend all dazed while talking about you. Sure he was vocal about how he felt for you. He would always say how much he loves you or how beautiful you are but... you never expected that this is how he would talk about you to other people.

"That's really cute but we really gotta go home y/n. The pub's closing" Steve's voice dripped with sarcasm as he popped up from behind you before walking over to Bucky and patting him by the shoulder.

"Bucky, we gotta get you home.." you said but he just shook his head. he finally looked up but instead of looking at you, his gaze landed on the skinny little man in front of him. "Steve! you gotta help me man. That crazy lady's trying to take me home!" he said with genuine fear and panic in his eyes before standing up and gripping steve by the shoulder, his index finger pointed towards you who was sitting behind Steve. Steve doubled over as he laughed at him and Bucky tilted his head, confused as to why his friend would laugh at such a 'serious' situation.

"Bucky, that's your girlfriend." Steve bursted out laughing again as he saw Bucky's face contorting with a confused expression before looking at you who sat behind Steve. His eyes went wide and his jaw went slack when he realized, It was you!

"my god! it is!" he practically shoved Steve away just to rush over to you and get a clearer view of you. His hands flew to the sides of your face forcing you to looking up at him. he gave you a quick peck on the lips, an ecstatic smile adorning his face as he pulled away. His breath smelled of beer and maraschino cherries. He picked you up and spun you around the moment you stood up.

—

The three of you are now walking back to Steve and Bucky's shared apartment. Bucky's left arm was draped around Steve's shoulder to help himself as he walked sloppily while his other arm was swinging back and forth as he intertwined your fingers together. the way he looked at your hands with such adoration made your heart melt and maybe even made you realize that it is possible to fall inlove with the same person over and over again...

"y/n..."

"Hmm?"

"I may be tipsy with the beer and grenadine, but..." he paused for a moment when he heard you giggle. it was funny to you because 'tipsy' was probably an understatement, "I meant everything I said... I really want to marry you... wait for me til I get back from war... okay?" his voice was small and it sounded so innocent. There were hundreds— maybe even thousands— of words that would be perfect to describe Bucky's love fore you but 'pure' was the most accurate one out of all of them. His love was pure...

"I will, bucky..."

but he never did...

[zvaigzdelasas]

China’s economy is currently on the operating table, hunched over by surgeons, chest cavity splayed open, hooked up to a cardiopulmonary machine, surrounded by nurses staring at monitors flashing vital signs. It all looks rather grim.

This surgery, however, is not an emergency bypass. That would be too easy. China has had many of those already – stimulus packages, grand infrastructure projects and many rounds of directed lending.

Every two decades or so, going all the way back to the founding of the PRC in 1949, the surgeons get ambitious. These guys are mad scientists attempting a comic book trope – to create the ultimate superhero.

They want to inject super serum, replace skeletal calcium with adamantium and dose the patient with gamma rays, giving China the powers of shazams out the wazoo.[...]

In the lamented “pre-reform” era, China’s mad scientists engineered spectacular growth by increasing investment from a prewar 6% of GDP to 20% in the first Five-Year Plan, covering 1952-1957. This led industrial output to register a compound annual growth rate.

The Great Leap Forward accelerated this growth to 66% in 1958 and 39% in 1959 before crashing and burning in 1961 when mismanagement of communal farms and “backyard blast furnaces” caught up with the mad scientists.

Course correction starting in 1962 recovered all lost ground by 1965. According to economist Cheng Chu-Yuan, China’s GDP growth averaged 11% between 1952 and 1966, the eve of the Cultural Revolution. (T. C. Liu of Cornell and K. C. Yeh of the Rand Corporation have a lower estimate: 8%.)

More importantly, China built a full kit of infrastructure, machinery and equipment capable of driving future industrialization.[...]

Many analysts have a tabula rasa understanding of China’s reform era, as if there had been no economy before Deng Xiaoping. In reality, China’s industrialization started right after the formation of the PRC with some of the fastest growth recorded in the 1950’s and 1960’s. Even during the “low growth” Cultural Revolution, resources directed towards public health (for example, barefoot doctors) and primary education doubled life expectancy and quadrupled adult literacy by 1980 from pre-PRC levels.

The mad scientists are now at it again. They have about twenty years of new data not just on China but from the rest of the world. When Zhu Rongji was head surgeon, history had ended and markets reigned supreme. This time around, the surgeons are correcting for market irrationality and negative externalities. The next twenty years is again being determined on the operating table.

Three years ago, the surgeons pried open China’s chest cavity with the three red lines credit limits, instantly seizing the speculation driven property sector. Since then, they ripped out unnecessary organs like education companies, clamped the Ant Financial artery and eviscerated the video game industry. All of this has caused spasms in vital signs from lackluster growth to rising youth unemployment. Wondering whether China will or will not stimulate the economy next quarter or next year is missing the forest from the trees. For the next few years, China’s economy will still be under the knife and whatever adjustments will merely be anesthesiologists and technicians nominally dialing the drugs up and down and adjusting the heart-lung machine to maintain vital signs.

What are these mad scientists trying to achieve? We believe President Xi Jinping’s 2020 target of doubling China’s GDP by 2035 stands. That is an average growth rate of 4.7% for 15 years. But beyond just a numerical target, it is important to figure out what superpowers China is trying to acquire. And just as importantly, what Kryptonite factors China is attempting to inoculate itself against.

China wants America’s Silicon Valley, but regulated; Japan’s car companies, but electrified; Germany’s Mittelstand, but scalable; and Korea’s chaebol conglomerates, but without political capture. It wants to lead the world in science and technology, but without cram schools. A thriving economy, but with common prosperity. Industry, without air pollution. Digital lifestyle, without gaming addiction. Material plenty, without hedonism. Modernity, without its ills. This is, of course, a wish-list and unrealistically ambitious. But these mad scientists sure as hell are going to try. They’ve developed a taste for it.

In college, early into the semester, we went through a ritual called course exchange. Students gathered in an auditorium to swap classes after sampling lectures for three weeks – satisfaction was not guaranteed. The strategy passed down to underclassmen applied to both course exchange and significant others: “Add before you drop.”

China is undergoing – but perhaps botching – the same process with a more party-esque slogan, “Establish the new before abolishing the old.”

The surgeons have been on a tear gutting the old. The big kahuna is, of course, the property sector. But right behind are platform monopolies, private education, financial services and video games. The new has been playing catch-up, with 5G equipment, electric vehicles, photovoltaics and wind turbines being leading examples.

From all appearances, the Industrial Party is in ascendance and China will double down on climbing the manufacturing value chain. The Industrial Party is a political identity that believes industry, science and technology should determine China’s future. Adherents believe that China’s strength lie in the technical skills of her population and thus favor hard-science, high-tech industries as opposed to services and business model innovations.

Therefore, Chinese politicians, whatever their predisposition, must find a way to create space for this next generation of scientists and technicians to develop themselves. They cannot be confined to a production line at a Foxconn plant. Maintaining social stability means finding a use for future scientists and technicians, which means pursuing industrialization. Is there any other way? The key variable for determining the course of China’s future development is thus the massive number of talented technical and scientific workers.

If mistakes were made, it would have been in sequencing and in faith – dropping before adding is a poor strategy in both love and course exchange. China’s mad scientists may have been too confident that electric vehicles and renewable energy would be followed quickly by semiconductors, pharmaceuticals and commercial aircraft.

Perhaps they have reason to be confident. Planning for this surgery has been in the works since 2015 with the Made in China 2025 project. China has been steadily eroding imports of high value added intermediary goods like batteries, precision parts and electrical components, flipping trade with South Korea from deficit to surplus.[...]

China never properly transitioned from its Soviet era Material Product System (MPS) of national accounts to the United Nation’s System of National Accounts (UNSNA) standard, leaving out much of services from reported GDP.

We calculate that China accounts for 22-24% of global GDP and 20-23% of global consumption. We also calculate that household consumption is 50-55% of China’s GDP, in line with global averages. China should easily be able to grow at 4.7% through 2035 with only a modest increase in consumption’s GDP share (5 percentage points over 10 years) without upsetting global economic balances.

In the reform period prior to Xi, everything was sacrificed at the altar of economic growth. In the new era, growth has been walked down from 9.6% in 2011 to an average of 4.7% in the Covid years (2020-2023) as an increasing litany of issues were given precedence. Debt however, soared over this time from 175% of GDP to over 300%. What exactly did all that debt buy?

When Xi assumed leadership of China, he declared that inequality could not be allowed to increase further. Inequality is perhaps the major Kryptonite factor of the American economy which China wasted no time in matching as the economy roared with market reforms.

While still problematic, inequality, as measured by the Gini coefficient, has steadily fallen since 2010 largely as a result of massive investment in urbanization, pushing people into cities and pushing cities up the tiering ladder.[...]

China also poured resources into stamping out last-mile poverty. While most poverty alleviation in China was through economic growth, recalcitrant extremely poverty could only be eradicated by concentrated marshaling of resources, from relocating entire villages to weekly visits by social workers.[...]

Since peaking in 2012, air pollution in Beijing has been cut by over 60%, with Shanghai falling over 50%. China, which used to dominate the list of most polluted cities, now only claims one spot in the top 20. None of this came cheap, from installing scrubbers in smoke stacks to increasing renewables to moving heavy industry to strict emissions regulations for cars.[...]

Before Hu Jintao handed the reins to Xi, Hu warned delegates to the 18th Party Congress in 2012 that “[corruption] could prove fatal to the party… and [cause] the fall of the state.” The popular opinion in the West is that Xi ended China’s highly successful reform era because of an ideological bent. This is off the mark. Xi was brought in to clean house as the wheels were coming off from excesses of the reform era.

Throughout Xi’s decade in office, there has been no letup in his anti-corruption campaign. In 2022, a record 638,000 officials were punished for corruption. While there haven’t been any large scale ideological appeals to the public, it’s a different story within the 98-million-member party.

During this time, free market capitalism and liberal democracies also faced their own existential tests. Success or failure going forward will depend on whether liberal institutions remain intact in the West and whether party discipline can be maintained in China. What the PRC has had since 1949 is a governing party with the political autonomy to play mad scientist. [...]

Of course we live in the real world, not a comic-book world. The question in the real world has always been whether the economy can be engineered by mad scientists from the top down or is it best left to the invisible hand of the market? [...]

The standard economic opinion – against all evidence – is that China was economically stagnant before Deng’s market reforms. The thinking on this for the American economys is undergoing a transformation in egghead land – just how has neoliberal economics benefitted the American people over the past few decades?

In a Q&A exchange at a conference in Malaysia, Eric Li, the barbed-tongued venture capitalist, was asked, “Do you think top-down directives are sustainable in the long run?” To which he replied, “It’s the only thing that’s sustainable.… That’s why America is failing today.” After World War II, Li said, the Americans “lost the ability to do top-down design.”

Dec 2023

[urdepressedslut]

The Girl and Her Golden Boys

⇨ Chapter Two: Don’t Leave

♡ Pairing: 40’s!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, 40’s!Platonic!Pre-Serum!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

♡ Chapter Summary: You three hangout, eating candy. Going to the diner. The day going well, until Steve insists he should join the war.

♡ Chapter Warnings: fluff, mentions of parent issues, angst, self hate, hints to passive suicidal thoughts

It had been a couple days since the funeral, you Steve and Bucky had been inseparable. You stayed with each other all day, and spent the nights together. It was starting to feel like old times, and the three of you welcomed the nostalgic feeling.

“I wonder what the future is gonna be like.” You asked out loud, popping some jellybeans in your mouth.

You were sitting on the apartment stairs, Bucky next to you stealing your jellybeans, while Steve was busy sketching a woman sitting down below.

“Flying cars.” Bucky thought, reaching over and grabbing a handful of candy.

“Flying people probably.” You wondered.

“I bet we will be mind controlled.” Steve mumbled to himself, although you and Bucky could hear.

“Mind controlled? That sounds a little ridiculous punk.” Bucky told Steve, laughing at the goofiness of the thought.

“I bet there will be movi—” You stopped and slapped Bucky’s hand away.

“Hey! What was that for?” Bucky whined, trying to reach for the candy.

“You’re eating all my jellybeans.” You told him, trying not to fall for his puppy eyes.

“Whatever you little brat.” He joked, nudging you in the side, making you giggle.

“Stevieeeee, are you done yet?” You whined dramatically, earning an eye roll from Steve.

“No. Now quiet. Let me focus.” He muttered, smudging some harsh lines with his finger.

“Yeah (Y/n) shush, and gimme some jellybeans.” Bucky teased, reaching for the bag only to grab air when you moved it away from him.

It was little moments like this, the three of you stuck in your own little world. It felt like nothing could ruin this moment.

Bucky’s face grew slightly serious, but still keeping a lighthearted tone to his voice.

“How are you and your dad? I meant to ask earlier but, didn’t seem like the right time.” He told you, his head motioning to Steve behind him.

Your face dropped the slightest bit, and of course Bucky had noticed. It didn’t always used to be a sensitive topic, but since the funeral. Grieving Sarah Rogers, it brought up feelings you had suppressed since your own Mother’s passing.

“It’s complicated.” You muttered, digging around the jellybeans for a cherry red one.

Bucky nudged your side playfully.

“Come on, give me more than that.” He pried.

“Fine. We don’t talk much. When we do talk, it’s a couple words here and there, but I don’t remember the last time I had a conversation with him longer than two minutes.” You told him, huffing in frustration.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with you, just dealing in his own way.” Bucky hesitated, not thinking it was appropriate for him to assume.

“I don’t know, he acts like he hates me. Maybe he does.” You said sadly, and this comment got Steve’s attention.

“Okay you’re annoying most of the time, but I don’t think he hates you. Like Buck said, just give him time.” Steve explained, glancing up from his sketch to glance below the ledge.

You rolled your eyes, hating when the boys would gang up on you.

“Thanks Steve.” You replied sarcastically, earning a chuckle from Bucky, feeling him wrap an arm around your shoulders pulling you into his side.

“Stevie doesn’t mean it Doll, he’s just jealous that you’re more fun to hang out with.” Bucky whispered, but Steve could easily hear it. Gently kicking Bucky in the back.

“You little punk, what was that for?” Bucky whined, glaring back at Steve.

Steve rolled his eyes, focusing back on his sketch.

“Anyway,” He faced you again, “He doesn’t hate you, it may feel like that but… There’s no way he could hate you.”

You smiled at him, appreciating his comforting words. Bucky was so good at calming you down.

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better.” You told him, popping another few jellybeans.

“Is it working?” Bucky leaned into you playfully.

“Maybe.” You mumbled, earning a chuckle from Bucky.

He looped his arm back around your shoulders pulling you into his side. The warmth from his body melting into yours, you felt so safe in his hold.

Suddenly someone shouting about joining the army had gotten everyone’s attention. Especially Steve, he wasn’t even done with his drawing, but had shut his sketchpad immediately.

You and Bucky jumped from the intense clap from the sketchpad closing. both turning to catch Steve’s interested expression.

Bucky seemed uncomfortable with how drawn Steve was by all the shouts, and quickly changed the subject.

“How about we head to Lori’s Diner. As great as your jellybeans are— I need some real food.” Bucky came up with, resting his head against the side of yours.

Butterflies instinctively fluttered around your stomach, causing a deep crimson to appear on your cheeks.

“I’m offended, my jellybeans are superior.” You announced dramatically, hugging the bag protectively.

“More superior than Lori’s chocolate chip pancakes?” Bucky teased, watching your eyes dilate, your tongue poking out to lick your lips.

He didn’t mean to, but he let his eyes stay on your lips for a little longer than he should’ve.

“That does sound really good.” Steve announced from behind, squeezing his way in between you and Bucky.

Steve sat down, sandwiching himself in between the two of you, all three of you chuckling at the close proximity.

“Lori’s diner it is then.” Bucky spoke, playfully slapping Steve’s back.

~

It had truly felt like old times, the three of you younger— having food fights in this very diner. It was a rush of nostalgia that everyone seemed to need.

You used to ramble on and on about working for Lori one day, wanting to be a waitress.

Lori was a well respected woman, she knew how to run a diner that’s for sure. Everyone within the area knew of her. She greeted and treated every guest like they were an old friend. It was a family environment, a place you go if you started to feel disconnected from your roots.

Although she wasn’t around anymore, her legacy lived on. Her family continuing to care for the diner, honoring her life’s work.

A chocolate chip was pelted at your face, making you flinch in surprise.

“What ya thinking about that’s got you so spacey.” Steve pointed out.

You rolled your eyes, digging your fork into your own pancakes.

“I’m not spacey.”

“Yeah you are.” Steve argued.

You glanced up, glaring at Steve’s know-it-all expression.

“Are you always this annoying?” You sassed.

“Are you always this spacey?” He shot back, smirking when he saw your jaw twitch.

“Alright,” Bucky announced to the two of you, “Next person that says spacey is getting slapped.”

You and Steve immediately backed away from each others throats. It wasn’t uncommon for these petty fights to occur, it was more of a sibling fight then anything. You and Steve never took anything personally, instead just jabbing at each other.

Bucky took another bite of his pancake in triumph, always being the middle guy— stopping the bickering between the two of you.

Steve’s sudden interest out the window had both of yours attention. He was peering out, focusing on another shouting male, going on about joining the war.

You furrowed your brows, watching Steve get so enticed by the man outside. You knew what he was going on about, having passed multiple other shouting men in the streets. You couldn’t stomach the idea of Steve joining the war— being in danger.

“Will you stop.” You spoke out to Steve, gaining his attention with how gentle you spoke the words. Your tone desperate.

He furrowed his brows, shaking his head dismissively— attempting to focus back on his food.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Bucky huffed heavily, rubbing your back soothingly. Knowing exactly what you were inferring.

“Steve just don’t.” You pleaded.

“Why? I wanna fight for our country. I wanna do good.” He argued, keeping his voice at a respectable level.

“You could die, it’s dangerous.” You stated bluntly.

Steve glanced up at those words, looking back and fourth from you to Bucky. He shrugged his shoulders.

“So?” Steve whispered.

His words broke your heart. The way he cared so little about himself and his safety. You hated that he felt like that, but he wasn’t allowed to leave you too. Bucky seemed just as shocked, but kept his reaction hidden.

“I care— we care if you died. Just quit thinking about joining so badly. I know it’s what you want to do but… You can’t leave us. You can’t leave me.” You begged, but you knew it was unfair for you to ask him such a thing.

“Let’s just talk about this later, okay?” Bucky asked both of you. He would rather not ever talk about it again, but he just wanted to enjoy his food with his friends.

“Yeah sure.” Steve agreed monotonously.

Meanwhile you stared down at your plate, wishing you could disappear from Bucky and Steve’s stares. You were selfish in the way you didn’t want to let Steve go— same with Bucky. But you just couldn’t lose somebody else. You didn’t have anymore room for the pain.

A/N: a lot of this series will be domestic stuff 💗

TAGLIST: @i-l-y-3000

[exhaslo]

Ok your corruption is so good ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ I'm eating that meal fr fr, BUTTTT I can't stop thinking about this—

What if reader was never spiderwoman??? What if it was someone else, what would happen? Would Miguel still choose reader or go for sw?? I'm curious on ur thoughts on thisss 🥹🥹🥹

Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehe

So, if this were the case, the story will flow differently but still end the same.

Villain!Miguel would be so obsessed with Spider-Woman that reader would be felt out of everything. Miguel would try his hardest to figure out who Spider-Woman is and try to get their blood sample.

I even had a small pre-written alt scene for when reader confronts Miguel.

-------------------------------

Tears were threatening to spill as you stood outside Miguel's office. It had been weeks since Spider-Woman first appeared and Miguel refused to even look at you. He was so focused on who this new superhero was that it was hurting you.

"M-Miguel?" You knocked, begging to enter.

"Perfect timing!" Miguel roared out as the door open. You gasped happily, quickly entering, "Spider-Woman will be appearing to guard the President. I could use this-"

"Miguel?" You whispered.

Miguel had been typing away, not even realizing that you had entered. He let out a sigh. Part of him should have been paying attention to his own assistant. Miguel wouldn't like it if you list interest in him.

"(Y/n)-" Miguel's eyes widen as you started crying. Miguel hated it when you cried, "Stop-"

"S-Sorry, I...I can't." You sobbed, "I-I'll leave."

"No, just-" Miguel inhaled sharply as he grabbed your hand.

Miguel always had a soft spot for you, he just never admitted it to anyone. Hearing you cry was annoying. Pulling you into his chest, Miguel glanced back at his work. His hunt for Spider-Woman.

It was a shame. If only you were Spider-Woman. You were the perfect person for Miguel to match with. Humming to the thought, Miguel started to ponder. If he could get Spider-Woman's genes to enhance both himself and you, then there wouldn't be a problem.

"My dear (Y/N), don't cry." Miguel resisted a chuckle as he held you, "I'm going to need your help." ----------------------------------------------

Like Villain!Miguel will manipulate reader into helping him catch Spider-Woman. He would convince reader that it was for the better good and that he was just protecting her.

Reader would fall for his tricks and help him. As Miguel worked on his evil plan, he started to fall for reader much like in Corruption.

Once Spider-Woman is captured, Miguel would keep her trapped in his lab, testing her DNA. When his serum is complete, Miguel made sure to inject himself first before you.

Miguel could not fathom ever mating with anyone else but you. As much as he admired Spider-Woman for being the first advanced human, he hated her. How could someone so random get such special abilities?

It wasn't fair.

But then again, it didn't matter anymore. Once both reader and Miguel got powers, Miguel killed Spider-Woman. He made sure you were under his control, enjoying every moment

So to summarize, Villain!Miguel would always choose you.

Always.

[pandafishao3]

Posting order for Kinktober 2024

It is here, it has been decided, there is finally a LIST with the posting order!! Four months of work coming together! Let's get hyped for Kinktober! I've taken a lot of your suggestions, and I'm really happy that so many has sent hem, so thank you for that. This Kinktober, we have a good mix of things. It's mostly Stucky, but there's also Spideypool, Loki/Mobius and Poolverine. I've mixed Top!Steve, Top!Bucky, pre-and post serum boys, Omegaverse, AU's, Canon, you name it. This year has it all!

And like always, it will be posted on my Ao3.

Comment your thoughts and questions, tell me which one you're excited for, tell me if you're posting for kinktober too, just talk to me friends :)

Dirty talk 

Mpreg

Breeding/Lactation

Choking

Predator/prey

Virgin!Steve

Massage

Can’t get it down

Medical

Sex Machine

Glory Hole

Car sex

Brat getting punished

Cum eating

Nude Modelling

Sex Pollen

Rope Bondage

1950’s Housewife AU

 The Second circle of hell/Demonfucking

Micropenis

Strap-on

Anal gaping

Alpha on Alpha

CBT

Student/teacher

Foot fetish

Sex Therapy

Tentacle Sex

Feminization

Virgin!Bucky

Exhibitionism

[porcelain-dionysus]

Steve’s Endgame Ending fixed

What if at the end of Endgame when Steve is returning the stones, he has to give up something he loves, right? So what if he gives up his super-serum effects (an au tweaked and borrowed from @growingpaynes-art ), and turns back into pre-serum-Steve? A list of reasons why I think this would work:

A) Straight off the bat it’s easy to keep Steve in the MCU with Chris Evans’ contract ending if they replace the actor who plays pre-serum-Steve (obviously with a guy who looks similar to the first movie, but without the CGI). I know people might be confused why he looks different but the MCU’s changed actors before and it’s not the hardest stretch of the imagination. Also thematically it’d be cool to have Steve be literally unrecognisable to the audience.

B) I think a lot of writers for the Avengers are so focused on writing ‘Captain America’; ‘bland, stoic, with no sense of humor’, that they forget about Steve Rogers; the young disabled man who would put his life on the line to fight fascists. This would be a great way to get back to the basics of Steve’s character and show the audience who he truly is.

C) Honestly it would just be nice to show that Steve is just as righteous and brave with his disabilities, something not often shown in media. Even the MCU likes to focus on Steve’s asthma and ignore that he actually was disabled. (which i’ll touch on in a second).

*and now for some more headcannon-y stuff*

A) From screenshots from the movie, and a list at Disneylands Tomorrowland exhibit, the canon list of Steve’s disabilites and health problems are:

Asthma

Anemia

Diabetes

Color-blindness

Arrhythmia

Scoliosis

Chronic colds

High blood pressure

Easy fatigability

Heart trouble

Sinusitis

Fallen arches

Partial deafness

Stomach ulcers

Pernicious Anemia

Astigmatism

Nervous troubles of any sort

History of; scarlet fever, rheumatic fever

(Jesus Christ Steven)

B) It’d be cute to see Steve actually be able live with his disabilities, unlike in the 30’s. I cannot stress how much eugenics there was back then (and still is now, but WAY more casually acceptable back then). Even the actual Captain America storyline reeks of it a bit; experiment on a disabled man to ‘fix’ him and turn him into a soldier. However in the 21st century imagine if he could get the help he actually needs! Obviously a lot of his stuff is chronic, but he could actually live with it instead of just surviving like he would have done. And be able to afford them, unlike back in the Great Depression. Back braces, inhaler, mobility aids etc. It’d be nice to see a disabled person living with themselves as the HAPPY ending, instead of as a tragedy as it’s usually played.

C) The story of him actually seeing worth in his old (new?) body and himself instead of just a vessel for Captain America. A self-acceptance arc. Being able to retire in peace without anyone recognising him as Captain America without having to give up his life in the 21st century.

D) The Smithsonian exhibit is so closely tailored to his propaganda persona that it fails to acknowledge him as a person. I wouldn’t be surprised if the general public has never even seen a photo of him pre-serum, or knew how bad his illnesses were besides ‘just asthmatic and skinny’. He could easily walk around and not be noticed by anyone.

Tldr: Steve’s proper ending in Endgame should have had him return to his skinny form in exchange for the stone, and him being able to retire to finish art school in peace.

[stuckysimp]

Fic Master List

My AO3

KEY:

❤️‍🩹= Angst ❤️= Fluff 🚫= Mature / 16+ (no, I don't mean smut) 🟡= One Character / Internal 🟢= Ship 🔵= Friends 🟣= Ship + Other Characters 🔴= Enemies Title AU / Theme (if applicable) Character(s) (POV)

keep reading to see fic list ⬇️

Azzano

❤️‍🩹🟡

Bucky Barnes

Stuck in Azzano, Bucky reflects on the horrors of war

Inseparable

❤️🟢

40s Stucky

Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sarah Rogers

My little hc about how Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes met (and just them being cuties)

The Burden of Sacrifice

❤️‍🩹🟢

Role swap Stucky

Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

In a last ditch attempt to save him, Steve falls from the train instead of Bucky (also kind of Bucky's internal monologue during the train scene lol)

Mission Complete

❤️‍🩹🟢

Steve dies - Stucky

Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

The Winter Soldier is reminded of himself too late, and kills Steve Rogers

Just Stay

❤️‍🩹❤️🟣

Pre-War Stucky

Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sarah Rogers

Pre-serum Steve gets sick and Bucky comes by his apartment to check on his friend

Shattered (Part One, Part Two)

❤️‍🩹🟣

Pre-War Stucky

Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sarah Rogers

Steve's mother, Sarah, is sick and Bucky has come over to help him deal with it

A Cold Embrace

❤️‍🩹🚫🟡

Steve Rogers

A somewhat more realistic take on Steve Rogers' 'death' at the end of Captain America: The First Avenger

I'm Sorry

❤️‍🩹🟡

Natasha Romanoff

Nat has a nightmare and reflects on herself

Fate of the Damned

❤️‍🩹🟢

Pre-War Stucky

Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Bucky gets the letter that he's been drafted and Steve finds out

Hell and Back

❤️🟢

40s Stucky

Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

After they return to the base camp in Italy, Bucky and Steve talk

Cookie For Your Thoughts

❤️🟢

2012 Romanogers

Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff

Steve is having trouble settling in and Nat offers a shoulder to lean on

Our Side

❤️🟢🔵

Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton

Natasha is struggling to settle into SHIELD and Clint offers his friendship

Here, Now, Together

❤️🔵

Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Jim Morita (briefly)

The night before Bucky falls from the train, he shares a peaceful moment with Steve