#Steve Rogers

[empowerxd]

@zephyr-iffic liked for a starter

"You look a little lost, do you need help?"

[meidui]

the cutest scene in CATFA

[eliashirsch]

Drunk Iceman Is A Different Beast (3/3)

they're so in love TT when is it my turn TT.TT

click here for part 1 // part 2

[navybrat817]

My daughter: "If I was in the Captain America movie and I had the power, I would unbrainwash Bucky and we would become friends and we would eat ice cream! And Steve would join us!" ❤️

[foap-mactavish]

“I want what they have” Except one of them is always dead 😔

[ronearoundblindly]

Ro! I’ve been on a mint chocolate chip ice cream kick lately, and it makes me wish I could share a pint with a babe (that’s also probably very much the pre period hormones, but anywayyy) which ice cream flavor do you think you would associate with each of the babes? Their favorite flavor and/or personality trait-wise.

Mint chip is my favorite, too! \o/ I don't get to eat ice cream much, but this was interesting to think about. I will try not to project onto the babes, though, only their pure likes maybe...

Oh snap! I can use the banner again!!! (All characters I've ever written for below.)

James Mace - Neapolitan

When this guy indulges (very rarely), he can't decide on just one flavor, so the easiest thing to do is get multiples. If he can go to a shop where you order by the scoop, he'll ask whoever is behind the counter what the popular or new or their faves are and try three of those. Mace, I believe, can pack away some ice cream.

Curtis Everett - Birthday Cake or Cotton Candy

The sickliest sweet things are a delight to Curtis. He's never gotten over how bland and boring and miserable the food of his childhood was. He goes nuts for sugar overload, but in intensity of taste, not in volume.

Jimmy Dobyne - Peach

Fruity, refreshing, creamy, and just screaming to add a dirty joke onto the end of it, Jimmy will use any excuse to sneak a double-entendre into polite conversation with a pretty lady. "Your peaches taste the sweetest..." Yeah, dessert is more about flirting than it is about eating. Ice cream is nice in the heat, however, so it's a great date option.

Johnny Storm - Cookies & Cream

With extra cookie crumbles and caramel sauce on top, he'll demand. Sprinkles, too, if you have it. Maybe some gummy worms or cereal. At least, like, five cherries. Oh! Also preferred that it be hard frozen when he starts eating so that it's not soup halfway through his rapid eating of it. The sensation of eating ice cream gets lost when he can barely tell it's cold.

Jake Jensen - Black Raspberry Chocolate Chip

This flavor has everything (and yeah, ok, I am projecting a bit on this one, whatever). Jake likes a whole lot of flavors and textures; he's actually not picky at all. He does enjoy ~the hunt~ for this rarer find in all his travels because raspberry is a popular flavor--it's often a sorbet though--but it's not the most popular of the berry options. He also will try all of the crazy niche flavors at hole-in-the-wall places. Conversely, it is easier to work while not holding a bowl or cone, so Jake loves a good milkshake or malt. Those he can sucked down like air.

Lloyd Hansen - Mint Chocolate Chip

My theory is this man is obsessed with fresh: fresh food, fresh sheets, fresh intel, fresh meat. Bet you his lip balm is always, only mint, too. Very classic. Very pristine. Fresh. Sweetness with a purpose.

Ari Levinson - Butter Pecan

Fine, I'm projecting again, idec, but you can't tell me Ari isn't this kind of old soul who loves not-overly-sugary treats! You cannot change my mind. That guy loves the crunch of candied pecans in there, he freaking lives for that rounded slightly-savory sweet cream flavor, and he loves that it's widely available but never sold out anywhere. Easy!

Ransom Drysdale - Coffee

And it's weirdly been that way since he was too young of a kid to drink coffee? Turns out, this was the flavor his father got but told Ransom he wasn't old enough for, he wouldn't like it. Of course, Ran immediately ordered two scoops of it in a chocolate dipped sprinkle cone, and while he may not have been totally keen on it in that exact moment, coffee-flavor grew on him. He loves it as much as he loves all of the other behaviors that say "f*** you" to his parents.

Steve Rogers - Rocky Road

Created during the Great Depression, this ice cream was shared between Steve and his Ma quite a few nights when he was too sickly to go out but needed a pick-me-up. Bucky enjoyed it with him, too, but it's not his favorite. Steve tends to really enjoy eating only when there's nostalgia attached to the food.

Bucky Barnes - Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter

Rich, velvety, and made slightly different by each company. Sometimes Bucky wants ribbons of fudge and the tiny pb cups mixed in; sometimes he wants full-blown chocolate ice cream with peanut butter swirled in. Can't go wrong. Only good, heavy, decadent happiness vibes.

I am...stunned at how confident I feel in these choices HA!

Thank you for asking!

[ash3]

Hearty desserts!

[betheflame]

“You cannot be serious, Tony! A friendship bracelet.”

Tony Stark grinned up at his business partner from his place bent over the lawnmower engine he was tinkering with. “Aw, Pep, come on. It worked for Travis.”

Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you honestly want to pattern your love life off of a fanfic come to life, to a straight man, be my guest, but have you considered that you cannot just waltz into a mall and wait in line for a hockey player’s autograph?”

Or, Steve is a closeted hockey player, Tony is a publicly gay fanboy, and the NHL has no idea what's about to hit it.

Also featuring: Bucky the bestest best friend, shameless use of the Philadelphia Flyers, Protective Pepper Potts, and the author processing what it would look like for a professional American athlete to come out of the closet.

COMPLETED FIC: Take the Moment and Taste It (47.5k, M)

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Soft Serve Stony 🍦

Steve is so vanilla

[mlmshipbracket]

ROUND TWO: POLL #4

ROUND 2 ALL POLLS [HERE]

NO PROPAGANDA SUBMITTED

[empowerxd]

@rules-for-boys liked for a starter

"I... think I might be a little bit lost?" Steve cocked his head around, feeling rather overwhelmed and uncertain of where he was or how he even got to the location. Lips curled to a frown as he looked at the other man rather sheepishly. "Sorry to be a bother, but would you be able to tell me where exactly I am?"

[marislittlethings]

i was truly in the trenches of ao3 this week & did not bookmark a single thing so here are some random bookmarks from october

The Impossible Return (25,935 words)

Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers

In 1996, the wreckage of the Valkyrie was found off the coast of Greenland. The cockpit was empty. There was no body and no shield. There was, however, a leather-bound journal filled with letters to a man long dead. In 2011, that same man is found frozen at the bottom of the Alps, still very much alive.

notes: Yeah this made me cry !! Natasha saying that she never got a chance to be good, oh my god

Semantic Satiation (13,691 words)

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

“You’re like,” Merlin tries to explain it, if only so Arthur stops looking at him with that strange, unsure look, “a toothache.”

The new look on Arthur’s face is not a better one.

“A toothache?” he says, dead calm, “Are you serious? Are you honestly saying that you think being married to me would be like having a toothache? Merlin!”

“I’m going to bed,” Merlin says, bailing out now and ignoring all protesting sputtering, because this conversation is clearly a problem for future Merlin. He will soothe Arthur and make sure that he knows anyone would be lucky to be married to him, but in a really annoying way. Merlin will figure it out. Future Merlin, that is.

Not this one.

This one is already drooling onto his luxurious down pillow, blissfully unaware of what he has wrought.

notes: Sobbing. You're like a toothache.

something amazing happened and i am so sad (23,479 words)

Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov

Yuuri never goes to Detroit. He gets an offer to train with Yakov Feltsman in St. Petersburg and takes that, instead. He's about to enter the Senior division and his idol, Victor Nikiforov, is in his prime, at the apex of his spectacular winning streak.

It's the opportunity of a lifetime. More good fortune than Yuuri thinks he deserves... until he actually arrives in Russia. He's cold and lonely, fighting for scraps of attention from his coach, and he felt closer to Victor when they were continents apart.

notes: this is one of my favorite yuuri on ice fics

[karmasgonnagetya]

Is the Iron Man armored adventures fandom even alive? anyways i watched it like a month ago, and i have to say it is absolute peak. i love it.

Please watch it if you havent its so good except for the fact that rhodey looks grey most of the time, which is infuriating, but other than that, i think it's a good show.

Gene and tony are Toxic yaoi 💔 "sorry tony stark for kidnapping your dad and making you have shrapnel in your heart and trying to kill you and your friends many times but when we were friends i really liked you but this is my destiny yada yada yada" -gene khan.

Imagine being friends with someone, but boom turns out it's your enemy.

Of course, when Gene first met Tony, he had the intention of just using him for info, but of course, they became actual friends to the dismay of Gene.

When Gene got the 5 rings and had flashbacks of the time he spent with Tony and Pepper, he wanted to go back to them and be friends with them but he went after his so called destiny instead cause he thought it was more important cause hes been told it since he was a child.

Im upset there's no season 3. What happens with Gene after the end of season 2? Do they ever meet again? Do they ever make it up to each other? do they become friends again? Save meeeee

[nerds-yearbook]

On a day in June 1969, Soldier "Ice" Phillips serving in Viet Nam, imagined what it would be like if the heroes from Marvel Comics were real and came over to fight in the war in the The 'Nam 41#, cover date February, 1990. ("Back in the Real World", The 'Nam 41#, Marvel Comic Event)

[imposterogers]

"Steve says he's retired. He's not retired. He still keeps an eye on his old neighborhood. And when he sees a problem...well...he knows every hero in the city. He might not be doing the fighting himself, but the problems get solved." ~ Daredevil (2016) #4

Yeah, I kind of agree with you. I think they should have had him pass the Captain America mantle to Sam and have him get a new identity.

its almost as if the best most in character and comic accurate choice was staring them straight in the eyes and marvel still managed to miss it 

[fandomfluffandfuck]

What are some specific scenarios you imagine of a Steve selfcest concept? hehe

We've talked before about nomad Steve topping baby faced Steve and that concept is so good! I do imagine nomad Steve being dom and everything but he's never aggressive or degrading I think, so imagine him all gentle dom guiding baby faced Steve who just came out of the ice!!!

Personally, when it comes to this bastard--

I always imagine that he is rough and demanding and, just, fucking filthy. I think he has the worst kind of dirty mouth and he's spent so long denying himself and playing by other people's rules that he takes what he wants and does not give a fuck.

However--

I would bet money that when he gets his hands on his younger self, that fragile 26 year old who has the weight of the world on his shoulders with not the slightest clue of how to ease the ache, nomad Steve would find himself folding. Immediately, he's gentling his younger self. Unconsciously. He just falls into it. As easy as the voice that comes cooing out of someone when they talk to a sweet, little puppy.

Who wouldn't talk to this baby so sweetly?

So, nomad Steve sets the two of them up real nice...

They're sheltering in Wakanda against all the timeline fuckery anyway, so nomad Steve uses it as an excuse to do something nice for his younger self. God knows it's been a while since he's had something nice between the Depression and war breaking out, and it's been even longer since his younger self accepted something nice.

They're in a plush, serviced apartment. All the amenities that they could want. Most of the time, that nomad Steve has been there, he's had the smart mirrors on the closet doors that face the end of the bed turned off, disguising themselves as regular closet doors. Non-reflective. He doesn't see much use for staring at himself.

But...

He knows he should.

On his worst days, Steve doesn't recognize himself at all. His own hands. He looks down and thinks, who do these belong to? (Or worse, he sees flashes of blood and bruises and broken bones and still can't reconcile with who's they are.)

He knows it's partially so bad because he's ignored his body with the same kind of habit of the boys back in Brooklyn had with smoking cigarettes. Never paying much attention until it was an addiction that he couldn't hope to kick. It started when he hated his scrawny, unhealthy body and ignored it--putting it in harms way without a fucking care in the world. But it didn't end there. It got worse when he stepped out of Stark's machine and was thrown into brightly colored tights, and everyone was staring at him, throwing themselves at him. He couldn't understand. Maybe he still doesn't. He doesn't think about his body. He didn't then, lifetimes ago, and he doesn't now.

Anyway--

Maybe he should.

Maybe he could give Steve, his younger self, that nice thing.

Look at yourself. See yourself. Know yourself. Your body. Hell, you don’t need to appreciate it, you just have to see it.

Nomad Steve sets the full body mirrors in his room to their reflective, normal-mirror mode, then takes his younger self into his bedroom. He has something to show him...

They stand in front of the mirrors.

His younger self is uncertain and weary, scratching the back of his neck; rooted in place exactly where nomad Steve stopped directing him with a hand on the elbow. And suddenly, there's not just two Steves, there's four. Doubling his double vision. It's somewhat disorienting. Bizarre. Oh, well, what about Steve's life isn't disorienting?

Nomad Steve launches into action--they already stripped for this, his younger self had a nice, long, hot shower under the double rainfall heads in the bathroom--reclining back on the bed, propped up with one arm, spreading his legs wide. Casual. At ease. Trying to nonverbally persuade his younger self to feel the same.

Steve's not hard yet. But he will be. For now, nomad Steve simply strokes a hand down the center of his chest and abs, getting to the fur of his happy trail.

Just short of the base of his cock, Steve quits touching himself and crooks his fingers. "C'mere," he murmurs to his younger self.

And his younger self, mouth agape, staggers forward. Eyes locked between his legs. Although, whether he's exactly staring at nomad Steve's cock or the hair covering his body now that he's stopped waxing it all off so he looks like everyone imagined, a golden statue... nomad Steve isn't sure.

Either way, with a chuckle, Steve catches himself, his younger self, mid-fall, and pulls him to safety into his lap. The safety in between his thighs.

Wrapping his arms around younger Steve, nomad Steve gives him a moment to adjust to the touch. Waiting for his muscles to go from stiff to soft. He exhales.

Nomad Steve rewards him with a hand on his shoulder, pressing his thumb into his pressure point, just enough pressure for the last pit of tension to leave his younger self. A little noise comes out of him, too. His lashes flutter shut, and for now, that will do.

"That's it," nomad Steve breaths. Almost afraid to shatter the moment he's building with his booming voice.

Steve sits up so he can use both of his hands and slides them along his younger self's body. Smooth, warm skin. His neck--both sides of it--and down his shoulders. Then, onto his arms and forearms. Gliding. Calloused fingertips gentle. For a moment, their hands intertwine. Nomad Steve squeezes recently thawed Steve's hands, thumbs rubbing the backside.

The sensation achieves another little sound, aching and needy.

Oh, right, nomad Steve thinks to himself, I was so touch starved then.

How could I have forgotten?

He forces himself to slow down even more because not only does he want his younger self to feel every single part of his body that he touches, now he also wants his younger self to soak in the touch. Heal some of that bone-deep loneliness.

"Mmnh," his younger self murmurs.

Steve doesn't think he knows he's making the noises, but they both can hear them. Enhanced hearing. Nomad Steve can also hear his heart rate, speeding along. Faster and faster. So. He moves on, skirting over his chest and ribs, onto his hips, and toward his legs. Thighs. Knees. Calves.

Down farther and farther and farther.

Steve presses forward to touch all of his younger self's body, even though it means the younger version of himself has to fold forward to let him... He mewls but goes with the honey-thick flow. Only protesting, his thighs bunching, jerking, when nomad Steve's fingertips dance over the tops of his feet. Ticklish.

Nomad Steve chuckles, the laugh sounding like a purr. This is a lot sweeter than he thought it would be.

Huh.

He doesn't want to change it either. For now, this is alright. More than alright. This is good.

Steve unfolds them both, pulling at his younger self to sit back up, resting fully against his chest now, pressed together, rather than uncertainly hovering. Overthinking. Because of the mirrors, Steve knows that his eyes are shut. Also, he knows his younger self has begun to blush. He can feel it, heat radiating through him, but the sight is impossible to ignore.

These days, Steve's blush is mostly overshadowed by his beard and chest hair and treasure trail. On his bare, bare skin from what feels like a lifetime ago, his blush is as clear as a sunset watched from ocran beach sores. There is nothing to conceal the sky. The color. Pretty pink.

"Open your eyes," nomad Steve whispers against the blushing shell of his ear.

His younger self's eyelashes flit, lifting, lowering, and lifting again. Under those heavy lashes, his eyes are dark. He sucks in a deep breath and makes a particularly wanting sound as their eyes lock through the mirror.

Oof.

The heat of arousal for his younger self is lost somewhat when he finds himself in their reflection. Just the barest hint of a distressed sound bubbling up in his chest.

"Shh," nomad Steve whispers, "shh," he kisses the top of his ear impulsively, wanting to swallow his younger self when he tilts into it so beautifully, so sweet, "look at you," he strokes a hand straight down his younger self's chest.

How was he ever this smooth?

Hairless and bare.

His younger self looks so much more naked, so much more vulnerable when he's truly stripped bare like this.

God.

Steve swallows the excess saliva in his mouth. He doesn't understand why he wants to devour this version of himself so badly. But he does. He wants to consume him.

For now, he pushes it down. Gentle. He can be gentle.

"Just look at this body, baby." Steve has no idea where these words are coming from. They're just coming. Soft in tone but hard with weight and undertone. Orders disguised as suggestions.

Younger Steve obeys his words.

"Look at it," Steve commands again, feeling him shiver, struggling to obey better--lifting his heavy eyelids, blinking to focus harder. "Look at you," he corrects himself. His body is not a thing. It is his. It's him. "Just breathe. Feel your body."

His younger self's lips part, the moment he tries to speak, he loses it, though. He whimpers instead.

"It's okay, you're okay, this feels so good, you feel so good, don't you, baby?" Steve keeps talking, keeping both of their minds spinning. Keeping them in the present by giving them something more than light, teasing touches to focus on--Steve wraps his other hand, not petting his expanding chest, around his dick. He's hard. Thick and hard. Already so, so wet. Dripping honey. Steve knows he can't help it. Cracked open wide by the serum, unable to not get hard at even the slightest hint of pleasure.

Raw.

Needy.

Perfect.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" He questions, voice gruff, rubbing his beard against the perfectly smooth skin under him. Friction rash appears and just as quickly fades away. Healing itself in fast-motion.

"Mm-hm," his younger self gasps. Now, his chest is heaving under nomad Steve's heavy paw. Groping. Breathing harder. More and more affected with every stroke--root to tip, just tight enough to make him drip. Leak. Overflow.

Fuck.

"Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm, that's it," Steve encourages his younger self, allowing him to squirm as much as he wants, kissing the inviting, vulnerable stretch of his throat when he leans his head to the side, chuckling when he curls his toes or digs his fingers back into Steve's broad shoulders.

He squirms for a long time under Steve's administration's but...

Eventually, he stops squirming, his cock is drooling so much that Steve knows he's cum once or twice, sitting so close to the edge as a result of the serum and not having relief over 70 fucking years, that there's nothing he can do to stop himself. Cup running over. Excessive. Gorgeous.

Every helpless spurt of white, coming out of him just as lazily, just as easily, as pre-cum winds nomad Steve tighter. Tighter.

But, rather than squirming, now younger Steve softens. His eyes are so heavily lidded that it's hard to know if his eyes are even open or not. The only time it's possible to tell is when nomad Steve reminds him to keep his eyes open and he blinks slowly, moving through honey, trying his hardest to listen. Whining high in his throat.

Steve could eat his younger self with a spoon--he's so sweet and pliable. Settling into this. Learning to love whatever he's given without begging for more.

Cute.

No longer able to resist, something inside nomad Steve shifts, it cracks, on the precipice of breaking totally. "Look at these," nomad Steve really squeezes his younger self's tits in his hands. Not just that, though, he doesn't just grope him or gently rub his hard nipples, this time, he pushes them together to form cleavage. Deep, deep cleavage. "Look at youuu," Steve coos, voice rougher, "eyes open, baby, you gotta see this, you're so pretty."

There's another crack. So, so close to completely breaking. Soon...

At the sight of his chest made to look like true tits his younger self makes this mortified sound way back in his throat, but he can't seem to do anything else other than lie back and take it. Hypnotized. A puddle. Watching, breathing heavy and slow, as his cock twitches despite his protesting noise.

Nomad Steve tweaks the sharp points of his pink, pink nipples. Without any hair, he's looks so vulnerable and cute. These pretty little points are so easy to spot. So easy to touch.

His younger self makes a desperate, guttural noise but stays pinned in place.

Perfect.

Nomad Steve grins. He can practically hear the desire in him crack like lightning. So quickly rising that it's too much, buckling under it's own weight, and it shatters.

"They're heavy, huh?" His voice is getting louder. He can't help himself. This version of his younger self just makes him so fucking hard. He's on fire. "Gets distracting, doesn't it, baby? They jiggle when you breathe, when you run, and they're gonna jiggle when you ride Bucky again." Steve bites his own neck, done holding back; sinking his teeth into the unmarred, sweet skin of his younger self.

Freshly thawed Steve's eyes shut tightly while his red lips fall open. Jaw slack. It takes him almost a full five seconds plus the reminder of Steve’s teeth digging harder, deeper, into his neck for him to open his eyes again, fighting the roll of his eyes back into his skull to lock onto his reflection. He's gone red now.

"There you go," nomad Steve purrs. "He's gonna love it, by the way. He loves everything about you, always had, but he'll swear he's died and gon' to heaven when he sees these knockers again, when you've finally got the time and space to really explore," nomad Steve chuckles.

His younger self whimpers. The only part of him not melted in place is his hips. He's rolling them filthily, in desperate need of friction. Aching. Hurting. Even with all the orgasms that’ve been milked out of him already. Fuck. Even though he's denying enjoying being talked at like this with his protesting little sounds. So cute.

"Oh, boy," nomad Steve rumbles, "if you have a hard time with that... calling these what they are, these fuckin' tits, how're you gonna stand anything else Bucky says to you?"

Younger Steve squeaks cutely.

"How're you gonna stand it when Bucky fucks you," nomad Steve rolls his hips, dirty. He slips a finger down there, too, "know you're real sensitive down here, now?"

Younger Steve shakes his head frantically. There are suddenly tears streaking down his cheeks. Aw.

"Well, you are, and, shit," Steve lets himself groan in the back of his throat, "you know what else is even better now?" He shivers just thinking about it now. It's still something he wants all the time.

Younger Steve makes a pleading sound. Dying to know.

Rather than continuing to talk at him, though, Steve makes a rude gesture. He splits two of his thick, long fingers apart into a peace sign, then he licks between his fingers. Lewdly flicking his tongue out. And...

He watches the entire front of his younger self's body flush an even brighter red. It doesn't look real. He's so flustered that his innocent-looking eyes--soft baby blues--widen.

Adorable.

"But-" the protest bursts out of his younger self, surprisingly coherent for the puddle he's become, "'m not-- I don't have--"

"Oh," nomad Steve cocks his head to the side, "you don't?" He rubs his finger even more insistently against his rim, "you don't have a pretty, pink pussy down here that Bucky could eat until you're squealing and wetting his face?"

His younger self surprises him, suddenly, explosively cumming over himself. Obvious. This is nothing like the orgasms before that we're unvoluntary but shuddering and quiet. Overwhelming. This is involuntary but loud and chaotic, and soul-splitting. Overwhelming. Untouched. Cumming buckets. Wet. Messy. Too turned on by the feminization to contain himself.

God.

He is pretty.

Maybe he understands why Bucky was so obsessed with him then; why his mouth couldn't stop running; why he couldn't stop touching. Steve gets it. Every part of it.

And he's gonna get a part of it. He's gonna sink his teeth into his bare, golden shoulder and fuck his sensitive, pink pussy raw. Growling and working him over until he's cumming wailing, mouth drooling into the pillows at the head of the bed and hands spasming against the sheets. Maybe then he'll have this intoxicating urge out of his system enough to go back to being sweet and he can fuck him slow and loving. Maybe.

That got a little mean at the end, but I couldn't help myself 👀