#m: steve rogers

[teaterstots]

Third I’m my series Bucky Barnes meets a cat, two years later

Fast friends 🖤

[miss-carter]

#parallel arcs

[dadragonking222]

Does this mean that Steve Rogers is canonically straight

So since Tony is canonically bi and he marries Steve in another universe where Tony is a woman, it’s basically canon that he’s literally romantically and sexually attracted to Steve, regardless of his own gender. In this essay i will

[meidui]

steve in a tuxedo vest 👔

[assiraphales]

I’ve been on tumblr for over ten years w two mid sized blogs so I’m very familiar with my content being screenshotted and posted across every imaginable platform (ifunny instagram facebook twitter rankable etc etc etc) but there’s something that sends me into fight or flight listening to a youtuber read my text post w Minecraft in the background

on the other hand. 30k ppl agree steve rogers would never. ppl r finally waking up to that shitty ending. so I guess a win is a win

[missyou3000]

why do people do this to me

★ "But I knew him" ★

[arteight]

Something with my dearest 40's Stucky🤲

[f0nzu]

Why would Steve be late for their date?

[capibuck]

Sketches of patre0n! Our sweet Stevie 🥺🧡

🧡 Patreon | Ko Fi | Commissions 🧡

[wolvietxt]

𝓑UTTERFLIES, PART TWO.

pairing : bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings : fluff, kiss, that’s literally it i think summary : after much deliberation, bucky finally acts on his feelings for you wc : 1.2k a/n : part two to this fic💕

bucky had been avoiding the common areas of the tower for the past few days, ever since his conversation with wanda. her teasing words about him having a crush had burrowed deep into his mind, and every time he thought about seeing you, his heart raced and his palms grew clammy. but he couldn’t avoid you forever, not when you’d become such an integral part of his days.

so, when he found himself in the kitchen one morning, staring blankly at the coffee machine, he wasn’t entirely surprised to hear your voice behind him.

“good morning,” your cheerful tone was always comforting.

he turned, offering you a small smile. “morning,” he mumbled.

“you look like you could use some coffee,” you teased, gesturing to the empty mug in his hand.

“yeah, guess i’m not fully awake yet,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “what about you? you’re always so… chipper.”

“it’s caffeine,” you joked, flashing him a grin. “and maybe a little bit of just liking mornings.”

he couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped him. “guess i’ll have to take your word for it.”

as the two of you stood there, the conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from your latest mission to the strange quirks of living in a tower full of superheroes. bucky found himself relaxing, the tension in his shoulders easing as you laughed at one of his rare jokes.

“you’re funny, you know that?” you said, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

“not sure anyone’s ever called me that before,” he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“well, i’m saying it now,” you said with a firm nod, your smile still beaming. “and i don’t lie about these things.”

bucky’s heart did a little flip at the sincerity in your voice. he wasn’t used to compliments, let alone ones that felt so genuine. 

from that day on, your interactions became more frequent. whether it was a shared meal in the kitchen or a brief exchange in the hallways, you always seemed to find a way to brighten his day. bucky, in turn, began to seek you out, drawn to the warmth you radiated.

one evening, you found yourselves in the common room again, this time watching a movie with the rest of the team. bucky had taken a seat on the far end of the couch, but you’d plopped down right next to him, a blanket draped over your lap.

“didn’t take you for a movie night kind of guy,” you whispered, leaning closer so only he could hear.

“i’m not, usually,” he admitted, his voice low. “but… this seemed like a good idea.”

“well, i’m glad you’re here,” you said, your smile soft and genuine.

as the movie played on, bucky found it harder to focus on the screen. his attention kept drifting to you - the way you laughed at the funny parts, the way your expression softened during the emotional scenes, tears brimming at your waterline. at one point, your hand accidentally brushed against his, and though you quickly pulled away with an apologetic smile, the brief contact sent his heart racing.

when the movie ended, you turned to him, your eyes bright. “what did you think?”

“it was… good,” he said, though he couldn’t have recalled a single plot point if his life depended on it.

“you’re such a liar,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “but that’s okay. next time, i’ll pick something you’ll actually like.”

next time. the words lingered in his mind long after you’d gone to bed. he wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, you’d become the highlight of his days. and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel quite so alone.

over the next few weeks, bucky found himself growing more comfortable around you. your conversations became longer, your laughter more frequent. you had a way of drawing him out of his shell, of making him feel like the version of himself he’d almost forgotten.

one afternoon, the two of you were sitting on the tower’s balcony, a light breeze rustling through the air. you’d brought out a deck of cards, insisting on teaching him a game he’d never heard of.

“okay, so the goal is to get rid of all your cards,” you explained, shuffling the deck with practiced ease. “it’s kind of like uno, but with regular cards.”

“sounds complicated,” he said, his brow furrowing.

“nah, you’ll get the hang of it,” you assured him. “and if not, i’ll just keep winning.”

he smirked. “we’ll see about that.”

the game quickly devolved into playful banter, with you teasing him every time he made a mistake and him firing back with his own dry humor. by the time you’d declared yourself the winner for the third round in a row, you were both laughing so hard your sides hurt.

“okay, okay, you’re officially banned from shuffling,” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “you’re too good at stacking the deck.”

“hey, don’t hate the player,” he replied, his grin widening.

as the laughter subsided, a comfortable silence settled over you. bucky found himself watching you, the way the sunlight caught in your hair, the way your lips curved into a soft smile even when you weren’t talking. his chest tightened with an unfamiliar but not unwelcome feeling.

“you know,” he said quietly, “you make this place a lot more bearable.”

you looked up, your eyes meeting his. “that’s funny,” you said, your voice just as soft. “i was going to say the same thing about you.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. bucky’s heart pounded in his chest as he searched your face for any sign of hesitation. but all he saw was warmth, an openness that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he could take the leap.

“would it be okay if i…?” he trailed off, his gaze flickering to your lips.

you didn’t answer right away, but the way you leaned in, the way your breath hitched ever so slightly, was all the encouragement he needed. 

when his lips met yours, it was like the world fell away. the kiss was soft, tentative, as if he were afraid of breaking the moment. but as you responded, your hand coming up to rest against his cheek, he felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the sunlight.

when you finally pulled back, your eyes searched his, a shy smile playing on your lips. “so,” you said shyly, your voice barely above a whisper. “was that as scary as you thought it’d be?”

he chuckled, his forehead resting against yours. “not even close.”

“good,” you said, your fingers brushing lightly against his. “because i’ve been wanting you to do that for a while.”

“me too,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “i just didn’t know how.”

“well, you figured it out,” you said, your smile widening. “and for the record, you’re pretty good at this whole talking thing when you try.”

he laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that felt foreign yet wonderful. “guess i’ll have to keep practicing, then.”

“i’ll hold you to that,” you said, leaning in for another kiss.

this time, he didn’t hesitate. because for the first time in a long time, bucky felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

ᰔ bucky barnes : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

@yvespecially, @hhiggs, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd, @superlegend216

@withasideofmeg, @pvndomi, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @bbittenapples, @hazydespair

@aoi_targaryen, @person-005, @corvuscattus

more tags : @vicmc624, @starsmoonn, @daddyyy88, @illusionaryjourneys

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Steve: How is everyone doing today?

Y/N: Well, I’m still breathing.

Steve: Are your standards really that low?

Y/N: I mean, it’s better than Peter over there.

Peter, having a panic attack: I can’t breathe.

[annafacose]

Stucky kisses are never enough

[paleyparksoul]

MCU mentions DC Comics characters and fictional characters (examples, The Eternals mentions both Superman and Alfred Pennyworth) and in the real world the Captain America and Wonder Woman were just two of many patriotic characters in WWII comics, most now defunct. In First Avenger, they show a version of the actual Captain America debut cover (but no kid Bucky character), so Steve is an actor of a comic figure.

Imagine being a prisoner of war in a place with no regard for the Geneva Conventions whatsoever, and this bright-eyed bushy-tailed golden retriever in a costume, the polar opposite of camoflauge, appears. I would think I was hallucinating. It's as absurd as an armed kidnapping thwarted by a Wonder Woman cosplayer on her way to the San Diego Comic-Con. Wonder of wonders, Brooklyn goes hard and actually does the thing and rescues them all, even his fellow Brooklynite, Bucky.

The time for a Howling Commando mini-series live action is past, but I would like to see one or more interviews of the Howlies, especially Falsworth, remembering their captain and sergeant for an in-universe documentary. Think the Carter interview seen in the Smithsonian, but less angst, more laughter and the absolute audacity of Steve transforming himself from actor into real action hero.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Squeaky Clean 8

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You start work as a maid but you’re not prepared for the mess your client brings with him. (maid AU – plus!reader)

Note: Oh Steverino.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The rhythm of flesh echoes in your head. It isn't until you open your eyes that the world is still. It's over. 

Your teeth chatter as you exhale, eyes glued to ceiling as you languish in the aftermath. The smell of sweat drowns you, the shadow of his touch stain you. Your skin is raw from his ravenous exertion and your insides are shredded. 

It hurts just to roll your eyes around their sockets. You tilt your head carefully and look down at Steve’s arm strewn across your middle. His heat swelters over you like arid desert air. 

You wallow like that for a time. Your consciousness stirs your restlessness. As your chest wracks tightly, you push away his embrace and sit up. You need space, just for a second. 

You get one leg over the edge of the bed before he has you by your arm, just above the elbow. With ease, he yanks you back down. You tremble and let out a yelp. 

"Please, I'm just going to the bathroom." 

"Stay," he insists. 

"I--" you begin but it's meaningless.  

His hand trails up your arm and tickles across your shoulders. He purrs as he draws himself flush to you. He nuzzles your cheek and pets your other. His lips brush your ear as he whispers, "on your side, baby." 

You tense but obey. You hide behind your eyelids as he grazes over your hair and pushes it flat. He slips his other arms beneath your and bends it to cover your throat. His grip hovers but does not squeeze.  

His other hand traces the length of your body and he latches in your hip. He pushes until your arch your back. 

You clutch the corner of the pillow as he drags his fingertips around your ass and strokes himself hard. He pushes his tip along the crease of your cheeks and leans against you as he finds your entrance. He pushes a finger along the front to steady himself as he impaled you with a sigh. 

You turn your face into the pillow and whine. His intrusion is even more torturous than before. He clamps down on your throat and puffs into your hair as he bottoms out. His other hand cups your stomach as he quickly falls into a rut. 

The slapping skin batters your ears and body alike. You try not to hear, not to feel, but that only makes it worse. His fingers flutter down your pelvis and he delves between your lips. 

You gasp as he flicks over your clit. You spasm and choke on your whimpers. He swirls his fingers as he hammers into. You feel him in your stomach as your nausea swells again. 

You clasp onto his wrist as he toys with your clit. He growls and puts you on your stomach again. His hips pound against your ass as he plays with your clit, tangling your nerves into a ball. 

"Fuckkk...." he rasps as his weight flattens you against the mattress. "You're so good, baby." 

You bite down and let out a fractured moan as your body surrenders. You cum into the pillow. He does not stop. 

You sink down into the darkness, breath clouds you as it traps in the cotton, and you dig your nails into the pillowy cushion. When it ends, you swear it's not. The stinging impact against your ass radiates still. 

He slides free with a groan and leaves you empty, dripping with him. That sickly trickle adds to your shame. You don't move. You can't. Whenever you do, it just triggers him, like a snake waiting to strike. 

The bed bounces as he gets up. Your heart slows but not beneath that constant rush of terror. Just enough to breathe. 

His feet slap the floor as he paces and hums. He clears his throat as he circles like a lion. You brace yourself for another pounce. 

"Hi, yes," he says firmly and your eyes snap open. You turn your head and see only his shoulder as he spins on his heel. "I just wanted to report a now show." 

You blink and turn onto your back. You groan as you push yourself up, watching him as you sit in the puddle of his desecration. He holds the phone to his cheek and sighs, a convincing show of exasperation.  

"Yeah, uh, my cleaner didn't show up today," he repeats, "uh huh. Yes, it's Steve Rogers. That's right." He nod and clicks his tongue. "You haven't heard anything?" 

He listens as you crawl to the edge of the bed. He sniffs and tubs his nose, dragging his hand down his chin. "No, no, it's fine. You know, I don't think it was working out.... yeah, uh I'll have to think about it before that. Sure. Yes." You try to parse together the other side of the conversation, "thanks. Alright, yeah, you too." 

He hangs up and heaves. He grins and blacks the screen. He tosses it away and faces you. 

Your phone buzzes in quick succession. You flinch. He calmly crosses the apartment and picks it up. He brings it to you. The display flashes with the agency's ID. 

"Answer it." 

"What did you do?" You babble. 

He shoves the phone at you. You take it and swallow dryly. You slump and stare at the phone as you put it to your ear. 

"Hi--" 

"Hello," Jan's voice is rigid with anger. "Where are you?" 

"I'm--" 

"You know, it doesn't matter. You skipped the day and that's a firing offense--" 

"What? I--" You are keenly aware of Steve right beside you. 

"After yesterday, I shouldn't be surprised. You wanted out and you think you can just play hooky like a teenager. That's not how this work, hon. Do you understand you may have lost us a prestige client?" 

"But--" 

"You are fired. I don't have time for this, I have to try to salvage what you've ruined." 

The line clicks. You stare at the floor and lower the phone. You bend over your lap and hide your face. It's all so methodical. He planned this. All of it. 

You just don't get why. Why you? You put the phone down carelessly and slowly drop onto your side. You out your back to Steve and curl up with the mess on the bed. 

"Everything okay?" He taunts. 

[assiraphales]

nah since marvel is trending again I’m going to say it again louder for the people in back — canon steve rogers would never have chosen an “idyllic 1950s white pickett fence life” because the only place that man belonged was a picket LINE. the whole point of his character was that his work was never done. there was always going to be another oppressor, another bully, another person who takes advantage of the underprivileged for him to stand up to. from the moment he gained consciousness he, a chronically ill son of a working class mother living below the poverty line, used his voice and his body to protect & fight for what he believed in. I’m not sure there was ever a time pre-super soldier serum where he didn’t have a black eye. he could put the shield down all he wanted but he could never retire from being steve rogers — someone who never once turned a blind eye, who never once wanted a “reward” for his work, who never once abandoned his friends. this isn’t up for debate. this is almost a century of comic book & film/animated precedent. he may have been a man out of time, but in his words “it’s tempting to want to live in the past. it’s familiar, it’s comfortable. but it’s where fossils come from”