#welcome back to me overanalysing everything. take a seat

[spillthechlorine]

okay but the title being 1 is actually so incredibly clever, and not only because of the cool transition at the end of the OP, but it also represents where shigeo stands with his powers at the end of the very last arc

we see him openly laughing for the first time and having fun with his friends and he's finally allowing himself to Feel, hence him being on 1% because everything is okay and he doesn't need to worry about losing control anymore

so i just think it's such a smart move to go from 99 to 99.9 and then back to 1 because it perfectly shows shigeo's growth and it's really the only way to finish off the series

[winterdrag0n]

Welcome!

Hello and welcome to my humble writing corner.

I don’t write explicit smut, but I do write explicit angst, so if overanalysing your feelings and drowning in tragic backstory are your things, do join me.

Human connections inspire me.

You can call me A.J. I travel a lot and I am a romantic (I love hard— and this could be a double-edged sword). Stories you found here could be written in the corner of a bus station, in a crammy economy window seat airplane.

James Buchanan Barnes is my muse. He’s a complex character with interesting layers waiting to be explored.

I am in my late twenties and had a fair share of loves and heartbreaks that inspired my writings.

Send me prompts, messages, stories, anything at my ask. I’d love to connect!

What I've been reading

Before I was a writer, I was a reader too. So let me share with you my favourite fanfictions. Usually I will reblog and write an essay about how much I love them. Use this tag on my blog: AJ fic rec

What I've been writing

I mostly write series, taking times on building characters' back stories are so fun. I'm currently writing my next project of Boxer!Bucky x Reader. I'll post a teaser when I'm ready. I am also trying to write some one-shot to participate in the Bucky Barnes Appreciation Week 2022.

But if you want to read completed works, here they are (please mind the warnings and ratings):

Solace (20.5K) *18+

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: After years of living abroad, you’re finally back to New York with a failed marriage and a flashy new job at Art Gallery. In your cousin Steve’s wedding, you meet Bucky again. Your relationship with Bucky had been complicated, to say the least. He had been your childhood enemy, friend with benefits and drinking buddy. But this time, with new circumstances, the two of you might find solace in each other.

Treasure (73K) *18+

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader; Steve x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve Rogers showed up at the right time, when you were finally in a good place after years of therapy dealing with your trauma. His dreamy eyes, lovable personality and oh, god— so perfect body made it easy to fall in love with him; and everything seemed perfect until a ghost from the past came knocking on your door. This ghost, whom you thought had vanished, appeared at your boyfriend’s birthday party as none other than… his childhood best friend. That was when things got complicated and you knew you’d have your heart broken all over again.

Relapse (4.9K) *18+

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: You hit jackpot when you moved to New York 2 years ago and got yourself a hot neighbor, who offered an arrangement to be your Friends With Benefit. You knew it was a recipe for disaster because you obviously had feelings for him. Your luck didn't stop because you met Mickey in Greece and he might cure you from Bucky Barnes addiction. Or are you just incureable?

Don't (1.4K)

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your last drink with Bucky before embarking to a new job across the globe. Your five years friendship had evolved to be an infatuation a long time ago and both of you knew you should stop.

The Sound of The Waves (2.3K) *18+

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fate brought you to Bucky when you were sixteen, The Barneses fostered you and what followed was the best four years of your life. Tragedy drifted you apart from Bucky, and he left you. And now ten years later, you meet him again in the college reunion, only to find out he’d been in love with you the whole time.

The Grand Plan (9.8K)

Pairing: Bucky x POC!Reader; Steve x POC!Reader

Summary: You were growing up struggling with money and acceptance; but with your smart brain you created The Grand Plan on how to be successful and live the American Dream. Of course, some unplanned incidents happened during college (because come on, it’s college); such as developing a friendship (that lasts a lifetime) with Darcy Lewis and falling in love with a white boy. Since the last one might be harming your Grand Plan, you had to pull the plug on that one.

[l4verq]

almost yours | s. r & b.b

pre-serum steve x reader, bucky x reader

in which you’re sure you’ll fall for bucky soon enough

warnings : angst, mentions of death, war, fights

fic : oneshot?

masterlist

|| gif by @go-fandom-imagines ||

-

“I can do this all day.”

You roll your eyes cause you know he can’t.

“No, he can’t.” You trudge in between the filth, your peep-toe heels doing little to help you walk.

On closer inspection, the man is clearly intoxicated. He has his hands squared up, body swaying slightly but firmly planted infront of Steve.

You know he’s already had a few punches in judging by the bruises on his knuckles and the cuts on Steve’s face.

Steve mutters a silent curse as he sees you walking up to them.

Why did you always have to see him in such a pathetic state like this?

You give a stern look at him like always and he can’t meet your eyes every damn time.

“Who are you?” The man slurs, the smell of alcohol almost suffocating you.

“His friend.” You lift your neck a little higher as you meet the man’s eyes, your heart beating out of your chest.

Friend. Of course, that’s what he is to you.

“Y/N.” Steve steps in between, shielding you from the man.

You’re about to give him a piece of your mind when you’re shoved back roughly, falling into a pile of trash.

“A broad should know better than to meddle in men’s business.” The man wags his finger before repeatedly hitting Steve who’s yelling at you to run.

You hastily unstrap your heels and fling it across with a smack against the man’s back.

But the punches don’t stop.

“Stop, you stupid geezer.” You scream, grabbing his hair and thrashing your arms around, hoping you get a solid punch in.

“Hey!” The man slips away from your grasp as Bucky grabs him and pulls him away from the both of you.

“Pick on somebody your size.” He snarls, ramming his arm into the man’s body, making him double over in pain.

The man staggers off and Bucky turns to face the both of you, anger evident in his eyes.

“I don’t want to hear it.” He objects as soon as you open your mouth.

“Steve, you good?”

“I’ll live.”

You two share a sheepish smile as Bucky helps him up.

“Okay, just so you know, this thing you guys have with getting beat up in alleys is stupid and moronic.” Bucky huffs, hands on his hips, foot tapping the ground impatiently.

“I was just trying to help Steve.”

“I didn’t need any help.”

“Says the guy who’s just had his ass handed to him.”

“Okay, funtime’s over. You have an aptitude test today, we can’t be late.” Bucky intervenes, retrieving your heel.

“Go to the hospital!” You shriek as Steve limps his way out.

He never stayed. He never could.

Because he didn’t like his thoughts when he’d see you and Bucky together.

Bucky sighs, kneeling on the ground, with your heel in hand.

He glances at you for approval before strapping on your heel for you.

“Thank you.” You mumble, a dull ache spreading throughout your elbows as the adrenaline subsides.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asks, concern in his eyes.

This is when you hate yourself the most. Disgusted with yourself because you can’t bring yourself to accept the unconditional love that he has for you. Disgusted that you keep telling yourself you’ll fall for him soon enough.

“I’m fine.” You lie, something fairly common to you.

-

“Still mad?” Steve sits next to you, hands shoved in his jacket.

You notice he did go to the hospital, judging by the white bandage on his hand peeking out.

“Maybe.”

He smiles but it quickly turns into a grimace, the cuts on his lips still healing.

“Heard you got in.” You continue, transfixed on his blue eyes.

“Had to see the look on your father’s face. Priceless.”

The two of you burst out laughing, his face contorted in a mix of pain and laughter making you laugh even more.

Your father, Colonel Chester Philips had made it clear on several occasions that Steve would never make it in the army despite your best attempts to convince him otherwise.

“Don’t forget about me when you get all buffed up and go off fighting scary men.” You joke, half serious.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

There it starts again. The stupid fluttering in your heart as you dare to think his gaze at you right now means anything more. And the guilt that floods in right after.

“You two take care of each other.” You both look over at Bucky waving at you from the registration office.

Childhood friends, you’d never known life without the two of them. And now both of them were leaving to possibly never return.

“We’ll be back before you know it.” He gives a soft smile because he knows how much you hate that he’s going too. How much you hate the war. How much you hate that your father’s never home.

He’d made up his mind about this years ago when he realised an asthmatic 90 pound man wasn’t exactly the ladies’ man but the butt of the joke and an easy prey for bullies.

And he didn’t like bullies.

But right now, the way you’re looking at him, his heart wavers a little.

“We are all set to go. You have been assigned to Camp Lehigh.” Bucky arrives, waving a form at Steve.

Your heart drops as it sinks in that they have to leave now. Tears spring to your eyes which you try to blink away.

“I’ll write you whenever I can.” Steve gets up, eyes glossy.

“You’d better.” You smile at him, an uncomfortable ache growing in your heart.

You almost give in to embracing him but the rock on your left hand weighs you down.

He lingers around for a while, perhaps thinking the same. But, he gives a smile, walking away towards the office.

“He’ll be okay,” Bucky reassures you, placing his hands on your shoulders, “Steve’s a tough cookie.”

You look up at your fiance, a lump forming in your throat.

“I’m going to miss you two.” You bite down on your quivering lip as a single tear trickles down your cheek.

God, were you beautiful, he thinks, gently wiping your tears away.

He hated leaving you, each time hurting quite possibly even more than the previous.

If you’d just ask him to stay, he’d leave everything right then and there all for you.

But you never do.

He leans in and you think he doesn’t catch the slight clench of your jaw but he does, everytime.

Each time, he rationalises it in his head, chiding himself for overanalysing.

Cause it’d hurt to think otherwise.

A ghost of a kiss on your forehead you barely feel as you force yourself to swallow the growing lump.

-

The mornings were tolerable.

A few chores here and there. Breakfast if you felt like it. Maybe drop by the salon, have a little chat with the girls.

You kept busy, finding faults in your own cleaning everytime. A spot you definitely missed while cleaning yesterday, you immediately attend to it, scrubbing away.

Sometimes, your father stopped by during the late afternoons, carrying a bag of fresh produce from the local market.

He’d little to say about Steve’s training, gruffly humming whenever you enquired.

Then, you’d have dinner with him, pretending that it wasn’t awkward having an empty seat across you that once belonged to your mother.

The last time you saw your father smile was during your engagement to Bucky. He’d pulled you in a tight embrace, wordless.

It wasn’t like this before.

He actually stayed home, smiled often and had a spark in his eyes.

But after your mother passed, it felt like he was just going through the motions everyday. Buried himself in more work, drowned himself in alcohol somedays.

You couldn’t blame him. You were no better, bottling up your own feelings.

But you wished he’d remember he still had you.

The nights were unbearable.

More often than not, you’d wake up in a cold sweat, heart still racing from the nightmares that plagued your mind.

Then, the worries’d take over.

The war was unforgiving and cruel and you’d pray every night that they wouldn’t fall victim to it.

The shiny rock on your hand catches your eye as it glistens in the moonlight. It’s a thin, silver band with a delicate diamond on top.

You felt like an impostor wearing it.

But, you’d gotten used to it. You’d just remember your mother’s wish, the way Bucky’s face broke out into a smile when you said yes and your father’s brief moment of happiness.

It didn’t help when you remembered Steve.

You don’t really know what you were expecting when you gave him the news. Maybe, you wanted to see if he’d be affected by it? If he felt the same way for you as you did him?

“I’m happy for you two.”

He had the biggest smile on his face as he tugged around with Bucky, teasing him.

But his eyes. You could swear you saw a flicker of sadness in them for just a split second or maybe you were just delusional, projecting your own feelings.

Most probably, the latter.

You pull the neatly folded up letter from your drawer, opening it for the umpeethn time.

Skimming over the scrawlings, your eyes land at the very end where Steve promises to return in the next few days.

You’d received the letter three weeks ago.

Your father’d informed you that Steve’d agreed to an experiment, where he’d be injected with a serum that would apparently make him a super soldier of some sorts.

“Is it safe?”

The grim silence that followed twisted your insides up into knots.

“We don’t know.” Your father grunted, the greying on his hair more prominent.

The following week he came bearing news of Steve’s successful transformation. That he’d grown two feet taller and more than a hundred pounds heavier.

You muttered a silent thank you to God as the coil in your stomach loosened.

“Do you want to see them?” Your father looks up at you from the table, eyes not leaving his newspaper.

He couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. Not after he’d failed as a father. He’d done a lot wrong but the worst was dissappointing you each time you welcomed him back with a warm meal and forgiving eyes.

You nod, a small smile breaking out at the thought of them.

One of the few privileges that came with being the daughter of a Colonel was to be able to go to the Army base closed off to everyday people.

That evening, Bucky arrived, daisies in hand cause he knows how much you like them.

“For my daisy.” He’d say everytime, a grin plastered on his face as you’d roll your eyes, unable to hold back a smile.

You carefully place the letter back into your drawer and crawl under your blanket, hoping to cram in some sleep.

Travelling to Camp Lehigh would take the entire day on a train and you could never really fall asleep anywhere but your own bed.

-

Envy.

The green eyed monster that doesn’t seem to leave your shoulders as your gaze flickers over to them.

A total of atleast six different women have made their rounds, tossing their hair and giggling when he leans in to say something in their ears cause the music’s a little too loud.

But who could blame them?

Steve stood tall at an impressive 6.1 feet, a far cry from the 5.4 he used to be. Though clothed, anyone could see the mass of muscles bulging out, the suit straining whenever he raised his arm.

The first time you saw him, you were speechless.

Bucky had emphasized on the drastic change in Steve’s appearance but you were still taken aback, mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

Everything about him was so different yet his eyes still had that twinkle to them that you always swooned over.

You down your fourth shot in a row, throat burning.

Did she really have to feel his shield and kn-

“Dance with me?” Bucky gives a coy smile, eyebrow quirked up.

Taking his extended hand, he chuckles as you wobble sightly while getting up.

“Someone had a lot to drink.” He comments, guiding you to the dance floor.

A hand slightly above your waist, the other holding your own, Bucky was always a great dancer.

You always let him take the lead as he swayed you back and forth, always managing to expertly avoid stepping on your dress.

You start to regret the alcohol, your head spinning a little.

He seems to notice and lulls down to a gentle pace, holding you tight. You lean into his chest, breathing in the sweet musk that’s just so, Bucky.

He calls your name, barely above a whisper, which you probably wouldn’t have heard if you weren’t so close to him.

You hum in reply, head now leaning on his shoulder.

“Remember that time you got mad at me,”

“and you came crying to me, begging for forgiveness.” You finish his sentence, chuckling.

A throaty laugh rumbles from his chest as well.

“And we promised that we’d never lie to each other anymore.”

You lift your head, to see a soft smile playing on his lips.

“It’s time you kept that promise.” His eyes trails over to Steve.

The low tune that crooned on fades out as a ringing in your ears take over. You could only stare at him, paralysed.

It takes him everything he has in him to stay composed. But he has to do this.

“Tell him, before it’s too late.” He whispers, an urgency in his voice.

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill any moment.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about me.” He reassures you, taking your hands in his.

Shuffling bodies bump into you as you look away, incapable of holding his stare.

If only you’d known it would be the last time you saw him.

-

It’s the last thing he wants to do.

But he tells you anyway that he has to leave. That he needs to go.

Ever since Bucky fell to his death, Steve knew nothing but revenge. All he could really think about was taking down Hydra.

When you found out about Bucky, you’d done the same thing you always did.

Bottle your grief, pushing it down and down and keep busy.

Steve knew this too so he was patient, never poked around too much, lent a shoulder to cry on.

He often blamed himself, the event still haunting him at night, his own mind locking him in an endless tunnel.

But you’d always be there, at the end of it, a dim light that led him out.

“Just don’t die on me.” You whisper, hand grasping onto his jacket as he turned to leave.

This time, you don’t think twice before embracing him.

You want to keep him right there, safe with you.

And he probably would stay if you asked enough but you know he has to do this.

You just wanted to be selfish for once.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He wraps his hands around your waist, allowing himself to bask in your arms for a while.

As he pulls away, his face is so close that you can see the golden flecks splattered throughout his blue eyes, forming a psychedelic pattern that seemed to only hypnotise you.

He leans in before stopping himself, eyes flickering down to your slightly parted lips.

You can’t help but stare at his too.

But, the both of you awkwardly pull away, perhaps both appalled by their own selfish thoughts.

He couldn’t do this to his bestfriend ; you’d always be Bucky’s, not his.

As he leaves with the soldiers, the coil in your stomach tightens even more, heart sinking when he fades out of view.

You immediately station yourself at the air traffic controller office, where you man a radio transceiver.

It’s a large room filled with machines and a screen that displays the plane that he took.

It’s a long, long while before the transceiver crackles, a familiar voice blaring off it.

“Steve?” You grab it, almost jumping out of your seat.

The screen shows the plane heading north, further beyond the grid.

You think he called your name too but it’s barely audible.

Then, you hear it.

The whistling of the wind. The rattling of the controls.

The screen blares a warning when the plane doesn’t seem to stop going down.

“Steve, get out of there now!” You beg as it sinks in that he doesn’t plan to.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” His voice breaks.

“No, come back to me, please.” The room grows smaller and smaller as the air suffocates you.

A distorted reply arrives.

Your heart breaks at the thought of him all alone in that plane, headed for his death.

“I never really said thank you for all the times you beat up my bullies.”

You smile, swallowing the lump in your throat.

A surge of courage runs through your body as you say the words you’ve wanted to say to him ever since you discovered what love even was.

“Steve, I love you.”

But the line goes dead.

-

a/n : idk wtf this is, it was better in my head lol, might fk around and make this into a mini series😬 also tfatws🤑😈

[charlatron]

Willful Avoidance

Roman Hawke x Raleigh Samson

Not thank you to @schoute for sending me to rare-pair hell!

After reading [a series of one-shots] by @schoute & @pikapeppa featuring Scouty’s mysterious blood mage Roman Hawke and the once undesirable Raleigh Samson, I was immediately inspired to take the rare-pair out for a test drive (with Schoute’s permission of course).

1K of smut below the cut, or read it on [AO3]

Warning: NSFW!

“Stop looking at me,” Roman glowered at the ex-templar beneath her, nostrils flaring as she exhaled in annoyance. 

So what if she had shown up at his dank hovel of a home when he was sleeping, somewhat rudely waking him with her noisy undressing before climbing into bed with him - still didn’t give him any right to look at her like that.

Samson huffed, speaking in that same gravely tone that made everything he said sound so unnecessarily brooding. “Where would you prefer I look?”

“I don’t care, just stop fucking staring.” She placed a weighted palm on his cheek when he turned away, pressing one side of his face into the lumpy mattress so he couldn’t try to look at her again. Which he definitely would have; infuriating shit that he was.

Sweat dripped down her spine as she bounced vigorously on his cock, the nails of her free hand gauging painful crescents into his chest. Roman closed her eyes, ignoring Samson’s hiss of discomfort as it predictably morphed into a groan of sadistic pleasure and instead focusing on the mind-altering delirium that came from these increasingly frequent encounters. 

Stop overanalysing and just fucking fuck him she mentally berated herself when that obnoxious voice popped into her head again, taunting her with whispers of feelings and other such distasteful profanities.

She shook the unwelcome thoughts from her mind, decidedly abandoning her up and down undulations in favour of grinding up against him as she welcomed the pleasurable pain of his far-reaching cock. She loudly moaned when he tilted his pelvis, seating himself just that little bit deeper and finally her mind quieted.

Samson groaned in that throaty timbre that never failed to fan the flames of her desires, renewing her sense of purpose as she rode him mercilessly towards her peak. “Yes, yes, fuck!” She threw her head back and blasphemed to the heavens, the proficient roll of her hips devolving into stuttering shudders as she luxuriated in that depressingly fleeting sensation that so exquisitely tuned out the rest of the world.

She was in a state of blind euphoria as Samson flipped her on to her back, every nerve ending in her body singing a blissful tale of rapture as he hilted himself once more. Her petite breasts bounced wildly with the force of his thrusts, the unexpected scrape of his teeth on her nipple the thing that finally roused her back to consciousness.

The fucker was staring again, the weight of his all too familiar gaze a wholly unwelcome assault on her senses. More often than she cared to admit of late, whenever those haunting eyes locked on to her own she began to question the truth of this peculiar arrangement of theirs. Why she didn’t just use some random stranger to sate her desires instead of encouraging this… whatever it was. But since she had less than no desire to unravel that particular thread, she was happy to champion the willful avoidance method.

“Move.” Roman pushed on Samson’s chest until he sat back on his heels, quickly repositioning herself on her hands and knees so she didn’t have to acknowledge that unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach that accompanied his scrutinizing gaze; as though her unwelcome thoughts were an open and somewhat amusing book to him.

She cried out in surprise when he spanked her, the force of it no doubt leaving an angry red welt on her right buttcheek. “Mother fu - ahh!” she cried out again when he slammed his cock into her, hands fisting in his threadbare sheets as she tried to hold herself steady. 

Samson spanked her again, and again, and again until she had to bite down on her own arm to deny him the satisfaction of hearing her whimper. He pawed at her backside, kneading and squeezing the flesh as he sought his own release. His grip on her hips was insistent, fingers biting painfully into her sensitive skin as he pulled her to meet each hard thrust with a resounding slap of flesh on flesh until she fell forwards onto her chest, spine arching dramatically as she eagerly angled herself for deeper penetration. 

Roman slipped a hand between her thighs, slender fingers tending to that libidinous quiver that heralded a second coming as Samson’s hips hammered forcefully against her rear. She sped up when his rhythm began to falter, victoriously reaching her end with just seconds to spare before he pulled out and emptied his load on to the still burning skin of her abused derriere.

Samson fell on to his back beside her, draping an arm over his face as he attempted to catch his breath. His sweat-slicked chest glistened in the moonlight, the skin over his ribcage pulling taught with each deep breath. Clearly he was undernourished, no doubt choosing his precious dust over food if ever he couldn’t afford both. Should she try to slip him more coin? Was there a way to do so without making him think she cared? Chances were he’d simply blow it all on his addiction anyway.

Roman sat up straight, not at all discreetly wiping the now cold evidence of their frenzied coupling on his sheets. She reflexively flinched away from the featherlight brush of his fingertips against her shoulder blade, immediately vacating his uncomfortable bed to dress in strained silence. 

She stubbornly ignored the urge to look back at him, pulling open what barely passed as a front door before she’d even managed to get both arms in her sleeves, praying to whatever god might be listening that she be fast enough to outrun Samson’s almost guaranteed snark. 

Of course, she wasn’t.

“What, no goodbye kiss?” he mocked, sounding far too pleased with himself.

Smug fucking cunt she thought, casting him a scathing glance over her shoulder to find him comfortably reclining on one elbow. The sheets barely covered his softening cock and she had to dig her fingernails into her palms to repress that split second yearning for something… more. 

“Oh, fuck off,” she cantankerously rebuffed, further splintering his already fractured door as she slammed it shut behind her.

[mar-gega]

Slow Hands

(A Smutty-ish Steve One Shot)

A/N: I should be getting ready for work, I should be writing It’s a Buck Girl Thing but it’s Steve’s birthday and the poor lad needs some loving! It’s quite smutty and inspired by Niall Horan’s Slow Hands

A/N 2: I wrote it quickly this morning and only checked it once so apologies for any mistakes!

Summary: After the events of Civil War, and Bucky gone, Steve does not want to celebrate. He wants to feel like a normal guy, meet a nice gal, have his way with her. He’s in Wakanda and it’s the 4th of July and everyone’s down to celebrate.

Warnings: Smutty undertones. Pet names. Steve’s neck.

Word count: 2.5k

With the events of last year Steve didn't feel like celebrating his birthday. It didn't help that on the 4th of July virtually everyone around him goes mad, whether it's for the annual parade, the overly patriotic house decorations, beyond ridiculous firework displays and just the usual All-American-In-Your-Face-World! celebrations. The whole splendour and excitement of the day didn't quite reach Steve. He had altogether different thoughts flying through his head. With Bucky gone under cryo, Steve felt a little lost. Considered a fugitive he would certainly not want to return to the US; hence why he declined Clint’s polite invitation to his farm for a family celebration. He was not in the right state to be scouring the world for ‘better, more quaint life’ like Natasha suggested. And he didn't want to get involved in reworking the Accords, which is what Sam ended up doing in DC.

No, Steve didn't want to Steve Rogers just yet. Since he'd been pulled out of that goddamn frozen lake his life has been nothing but chaos - fighting aliens, fighting HYDRA, fighting the government, fighting the once friends. He'd had enough and in an attempt to feel more human and normal he opted to sit in the corner of a somewhat quiet Wakandan bar, sipping on their strongest spirits. Of course he couldn't get drunk but the burn was real and the placebo effect might just do the trick tonight...

‘U! S! A! U! S! A!’ Chanted the group in the corner, TV in the bar showing the footage of the traditional New York parade. His eyes widened a little at noticing the smug face of Tony Stark, riding atop of a huge platform adorned with scantily clad women. Steve chuckled under his nose, seeing Tony’s ridiculous attempt to present himself as this billionaire playboy when Steve knew that nobody would ever have a hold on Iron Man’s heart like Pepper did.

The door of the bar opened and a small group of women walked in. Steve’s eyes wandered to the beautiful female figures and he sighed loudly. Oh, would there ever be a time when he can just be a man for a while? To just give into the primal urges, have his way with a gal, without having to overthink and overanalyse everything? Just one night of pure bliss and physical pleasure…

He stood up and walked to the bar, ready to ask for a glass of vodka - he needed something strong, he wanted to really feel the fire on his tongue!

‘God bless America!’ The crowd shouted as they each took a shot of alcohol. Steve shook his head and waited patiently for the bartender to make his way towards him; not before making sure the newly arrived ladies were looked after first.

‘Not a fan of celebrations, then?’ A husky voice sounded to Steve’s left. He turned his head ever so slightly, just managing a quick glance at the stranger before going back to swirling the melting pieces of ice in his glass.

‘I don't mind, so long there are things to celebrate…’ he replied. He heard an approving hum coming from her lips.

‘O-oh, you sad puppy, has someone done you wrong?’ She cooed. Steve noticed in the corner of his eyes that she leaned on the bar, and scooted a little closer to him in her chair.

‘Who's next?’ The bartender asked. Steve, ever the gentleman, motioned for the woman to place her order. He still tried his best not to look at her, he saw her reflection in the panels behind the bar and Steve knew she was way out of his league, and the moment he met her eyes he'd be under her spell.

‘Vodka on the rocks.’ She said to which Steve raised his eyebrow.

‘Good choice’ he murmured. The second the bartender stood the glass in front of the woman, she pushed it towards Steve.

‘You're welcome, big boy.’ The pet name did something to Steve. He turned left to face the stranger and he instantly regretted it.

She was sheer perfection. Extraordinarily beautiful face, gorgeous hair, beaming smile, and eyes that one might get lost in. It took him by surprise how badly and how instantly he was attracted to her. Much to his surprise she sent him a wide smile as she lifted her own glass of clear liquid.

‘A toast?’ She quirked her eyebrow.

Steve nodded.

‘To America.’ He sent her a small tight lipped smile and took a sip of his drink. Her brows furrowed in confusion.

‘No? Then how about to the worldly pleasures?’ Now that got him to smile a little wider.

‘Atta boy!’ She squealed in excitement and gently rubbed his forearm. It instantly sent shivers down his spine and his skin exploded in goosebumps. He cleared his throat loudly, trying to take back control of his body.

‘Cheers!’ They clang their glasses and Steve pretty much downed his drink in one go. The burn that spread down his throat was strangely sobering - he perked up a little and focused of the woman’s face again. Her girlfriends took seats on the table by the window and were now giggling loudly.

‘Don't you wanna get back to your party?’ Steve said, nodding in their direction.

‘Dance with me, handsome?’ She cooed, ignoring his question, and he chuckled under his nose. Eh, what did he have to lose? He stood up, and she grabbed his hand pulling him gently away from the bar. There wasn't a dance floor per se but there was some room around the corner of the bar and that's where Steve found himself swaying gently to the tune that was currently playing. "We should take this back to my place" That's what she said right to my face 'Cause I want you bad Yeah, I want you, baby I've been thinking 'bout it all day And I hope you feel the same way, yeah 'Cause I want you bad Yeah, I want you, baby

At first there were a few inches between them, touching only by hands, their fingers intertwined but a few beats in, she got her hips to move and closed the distance. Steve was now holding her hips, careful not to cross the line there (as much as his brain told him to!), she had her arms wrapped around his neck. She pressed her chest to his and her hand found its way to the back of Steve’s head. She spread her fingers wide and gently rubbed his scalp, a sensation that set him off groaning in pleasure. When else was he ever going to get touched in such a delicate way?

Slow, slow hands Like sweat dripping down our dirty laundry No, no chance That I'm leaving here without you on me I, I know Yeah, I already know that there ain't no stopping Your plans and those Slow hands (woo) Slow hands

He's used to having his hair gripped and being shoved into the wall amidst the dirty fight, but there she was - her fingers carding through his hair, her soft fingertips pressing along his scalp, tracing small circles.

‘Oh, god…’ he moaned into her ear, before throwing his head back in pleasure.

Just like she thought. She had him wrapped around her little finger. She took one look and noticed a man deprived of attention - a mission she was more than willing to take on.

‘Is that good?’ She cooed into his ear. Her breath skimmed over his earlobe and, again, goosebumps erupted on his skin.

‘So good…’ he whimpered, eyes closed.

‘We should take this back to my place…’ she whispered in his other ear, giving it the gentlest of kisses. Her lips traveled down the side of his neck, Steve's head moved even further back to allow her better access; she pecked his skin so delicately, it verged on the brink of tickling. This and the constant massaging of his scalp was sensory overload. All inhibitions out.

I just wanna take my time We could do this, baby, all night, yeah 'Cause I want you bad Yeah, I want you, baby

‘I'm gonna make you feel sooo good, baby. You'd like that?’ Her voice was like a drug, stripping Steve of all coherent thoughts, to nothing but the raw animalistic desire. He could feel the blood boil in his body, not to mention the ache that began to spread in his groin. She thrust her hips into him, testing the waters and was rewarded with a low growl of desperation.

Steve's hands tightened around her hips instinctively, he opened his eyes and looked at her, sure that his lust blown eyes were enough of an answer to her.

‘What is it going to be, big boy?’ He bit his lip at the name. All those pretty pet names seemed to have pulled something within him he didn't know was there. Under her spell he felt like a puppet on a string; he was ready to give out all the control to her.

‘Please…’ he whimpered in her ear as he leaned closer. One of his arms moved up to wrap around her back and bring her body even closer to him, the other moved down to cup her behind. And it was like her body was sculpted to fit his perfectly! He gave her cheek a gentle squeeze and she rewarded him with a moan of her own.

Fingertips puttin' on a show Got me now and I can't say no Wanna be with you all alone Take me home, take me home Fingertips puttin' on a show Can't you tell that I want you, baby, yeah

‘Good choice’ she mocked his earlier remark which made him smile widely. He didn't care about the obscene show the two were putting on for all bar to see. His hands roamed her figure, desperate to get a feel of all of her; angry that there were too many places he wanted to touch but not enough hands to do so. He was drunk on desire - he might be immune to alcohol but one thing the serum didn't take away from him was the ability to lust and want - the two feelings currently taking over his body.

The taxi ride was ludicrous, really. Two bodies entangled on the back seat, no inhibitions. She sat on his lap and let his fingers wander up and down her legs; his mouth latched onto her neck, but his kisses were not gentle like hers. No, he was more desperate - he sucked and bit every inch he could get his lips on, mewling quietly when being rewarded with having his scalp massaged. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and chuckled to herself. She, too, couldn't believe her luck. She really didn't want to go out to this boring work do but the second she laid her eyes on the beautiful blonde by the bar, she knew she was in for a different night, completely.

As soon as they got into her apartment, he was back on her neck.

‘A-ah!’ She pushed him off gently. He looked at her confused, big sad puppy eyes bored into hers. She caressed his cheek in her hand and examined him. He was breathless; his plump lips swollen red from all the kisses, his hair a mess and his eyes nearly pure black in lust.

‘Look at you, baby… So desperate…’ he blushed a little, not wanting to admit the true level of his desperation out loud. ‘It's ok, handsome, I'll be real good to you, just you wait…’ she smiled and pulled him towards the bedroom.

She stopped right by the bed and turned her back to him.

‘Unzip me?’ She cooed. Steve was acutely aware she was TELLING him what to do, but she always phrased it like a question to give him an out. That's what got him so desperate. He could've said ‘no’ any time but he didn't. He wanted just one night where saying ‘yes’ to things meant more pleasure, not more pain. Somewhere along the line agreeing to things in his life usually meant troubling consequences he would later have to live with. Not tonight.

As the zipper travelled lower, more of her body was getting exposed, and each inch made his smile grow wider. He marvelled at her perfect form, and he gasped loudly when the dress pooled at her feel, leaving her just in her underwear.

She turned and reached for his shirt, not failing to notice his knuckles getting white from clenching his fists at his side. She popped one button but, feeling a little sorry for him, stopped and reached for his hands and placed them on her waist.

‘It's all yours to play with, tiger, don't be shy on me now…’ she chuckled at this, releasing a relieved sigh.

Slow hands Like sweat dripping down our dirty laundry No, no chance That I'm leaving here without you on me I, I know Yeah, I already know that there ain't no stopping Your plans and those slow hands (woo) Yeah, these slow hands Woo, slow hands

She slowly worked on the buttons whilst his palms tried to map her body so that he remembers the night’s every single detail. She helped him take the shirt off completely, her fingertips skimmed over his big chest, working their way up to Steve's face. She leaned closer and kissed him. His eyes shut and he moaned into her mouth; pressing his body impossibly close to hers, he lost himself in the kiss completely. He didn't know how long it lasted, he just knew he was breathless and that his lips would be sore the next day.

She looked just as taken with it. She smiled through short breaths and locked her eyes with his baby blues.

‘Happy Birthday, Cap!’ She bit her lip teasingly to which his eyes grew wide in shock.

‘How did you…?’ He mumbled.

‘Relax, soldier… I just want to make you feel good tonight…’ she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and closed the distance, eyes still locked on his. ‘That's if you let me?’ She batted her lashes and smiled coyly, something he could not resist.

His gaze lowered to her lips and he moved for another desperate kiss.

‘Yes, please…’ he whispered in her ear. She released a content sigh. Because for every person desperate for affection there is always one craving nothing more than to lavish their affection on someone. And that's why in that moment in time Steve and her were just perfect for each other.

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