#pre serum Steve x reader

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Imagine being pre!serum Steve’s badass bombshell girlfriend

Y/N: “How did it go, love? You think they’ll let you in?”

Steve: “I doubt it, doll.”

Y/N: “Well you’re still my soldier boy, sweetheart.”

Steve: “Maybe they should take you instead, with how many times you’ve saved me. Fill out the uniform better too.”

Y/N: “Steven Grant Rogers! You cheeky man!”

[questionableratatouille00]

𝕺𝖚𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝕿𝖎𝖒𝖊

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: Whenever Steve was sick before the serum, you were there for him. But all these decades later, he finds just how much time he wasted back then.

Note: This is my submission for day one (drugging/sick/poisoned) of @ailesswhumptober! Does this count as whump? Probably not! Either way, I really wanted to be able to put something out, so here we are!

Warnings: Sickness, technically main character death (??), mention of medicine.

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

ʙʀᴏᴏᴋʟʏɴ, 1930ꜱ

“For fuck’s sake, Steve. You’re sick. Now sit your ass down.” Bucky sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. The three of you, you, Bucky, and Steve, had been a trio since practically birth. You’d helped each other through a lot. Bucky always had his sights set on some beautiful lady, and your sights were set on Steve. You know, if he’d notice it. 

“‘M not sick.” Steve slurred out, and you resisted the urge to laugh. His fever was high, and the pain medication only amplified the effects.

“Steve, you’re burning up and shivering at the same time. Just..at least sit on the couch.” You attempted to bargain with him. “Please? For me?”

“Fine.” He grumbled, plopping down on the couch. You glanced at Bucky, who was looking at you. Bucky shrugged slightly, not sure what to do. 

“Thanks. Buck’s gonna go get you some soup, okay?” You sat down next to your smaller friend as Bucky walked a few steps away to the kitchen.

“M’kay.” Steve yawned. 

“Are you feeling better? At least, compared to earlier?”

He nodded, still a bit loopy. Bucky came back with a bowl of soup, setting it down on the coffee table. “Eat up, punk.”

After he finished eating, you walked him to his bed, hoping that he wouldn't resist. And he didn’t, opting to quietly lay down. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring into his beautiful blue eyes.

“Stay?” He asked quietly, his small and ice-cold fingers finding their way to yours. 

“Course I will, Steve.” Rubbing circles into the back of his hand with your thumbs, you let out a sigh. “I always will.” 

He smiled at that. “I like you a lot, Y/n.” 

“I like you too. A lot.” 

He drifted off to sleep, his hand tucked in yours.

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

ɴᴇᴡ ʏᴏʀᴋ ᴄɪᴛʏ, 2016

Steve’s eyes drifted away from his notebook at the faint sound of sneezing. A younger couple, maybe in their early twenties, walked hand-in-hand down the street. A woman and a man, the man significantly smaller than the woman. Steve noticed the way he looked at her, eyes filled with love and admiration. Her eyes were bright and excited, and she looked at him every so often as she talked about something. 

They were both dressed in their cold weather clothing, scarves and gloves and hats and jackets. Steve smiled softly, imagining you like that. 

The man coughed, more of a wheezing, painful sound. Steve winced. He didn’t have to imagine himself like that. He could remember it clearly, the struggle to breathe, his throat feeling like it had been clawed by a raccoon. 

He missed you. He misses you every day. He was lucky to have Bucky back, and he was grateful. But that didn’t stop him from wanting you. Your kind smile, your gentle gaze. The way you made him feel less…less. 

But you weren’t coming back. He was sure of it. Hell, he’d found your gravestone. You’d died unmarried, with no children. You’d become a nurse at a children’s hospital, which he'd found out from Natasha searching for information about you online.

Steve felt a pang of sorrow as he watched the couple walk farther down the street. With them, it felt like his past and everything he knew was walking away too. He wished he’d had more time to spend with you, to tell you how he’d really felt about you back then. He yearned for you, to be able to take back all of those times where he could’ve kissed you, yet didn’t. Before he knew it, he’d run out of time to spend with you. He couldn’t replace you. Not with Sharon, or Natasha, or Sam, or even Peggy. In a world full of people, people who idolized and adored him, people who dedicated their lives to collecting his trading cards, he still felt alone. 

He truly was a man out of time.

[angelbaby-fics]

Daddy's Baby Day

Pairing: Cg!Bucky x Little!Reader x Flip!Steve

Word Count: 820

A/N: It ain't much but its honest work! No really, it feels really good to finish something again!! I was sort of unsure about writing one of my cg characters as little for the first time & I'm still not totally sure if I'm very good at it but I just thought this idea was so cute & my little 40s boys have been heavy on my mind lately 😌💕 Enjoy! And I love you guys!!! 💕💕

You and Bucky were sitting on the floor, building castles with your wooden blocks, when you both heard the front door slam. The bang of the door into its frame sent your tower tumbling to the floor, but you only giggled at the chaos. You were in a good mood that day; Steve, however, was not.

Steve immediately stormed into his and Bucky’s bedroom, slamming that door as well. You looked up at Buck with worry in your eyes, but his comforting smile let you know he’d make sure everything was okay. Bucky got up and knocked on the bedroom door, while you remained on the floor, monitoring the situation from a distance. When the door opened slightly and Bucky slid in, you inched closer to try and hear the conversation from behind the now again closed door. You couldn’t hear very well, but from what you could gather, Steve had once again been underestimated for his stature, and he came home feeling dejected and insecure, like he did on far too many days.

You knew how he felt. Being little, many people often assumed you couldn’t do things for yourself, that you always needed help. You didn’t really mind, though, you liked being helped out, especially by your daddies. But Steve wasn’t little, he was a caregiver, so instead of feeling comfy and calm when someone tried to assist him without asking first, it made him feel helpless and small.

‘That’s it!’ you realized.

Maybe being small is exactly what Steve needed. He spent so much of his time working hard to prove himself, denying help and pushing himself just for the sake of others. That’s how you’d felt before finding yourself in the care of Steve and Bucky, so maybe that’s what Steve really needed; not help, but care.

Confident in your reasoning, you got up from the floor and set off on a mission. In your bedroom, you had a little basket of all sorts of pacifiers, as your daddies liked to spoil you. You grabbed one, a blue one with stars that you thought Steve would like, as well as one of the soft blankets from your bed, and made your way to your daddies’ room. You could still hear them talking as you approached, the stress obvious in Steve’s voice as Bucky tried to calm him down. You knocked softly, but they couldn’t hear you, so you quietly let yourself in. The tension in the room immediately dissipated as soon as Steve and Bucky saw you enter.

“Hiya, angel,” Steve said, exhaustion radiating from him. Despite this, he still held his arms out for you, never letting his caregiver persona falter in front of you. For now.

You reached up with the pacifier, attempting to put it in Steve’s mouth for him.

“What’s this, baby?” Steve asked, subtly dodging the pacifier and taking it in his hand instead.

“Paci makes me feel better. Maybe it helps daddy feel better too?” You responded.

“Aw, thank you sweetie, but daddy isn’t a baby like you.” Steve said with a hint of sadness in his voice.

“Well… maybe daddy can be a baby if you want to. Daddy can have a baby day, too.”

“Daddy can’t be a baby, he’s gotta take care of you, huh?” Steve chuckled, mussing up your hair.

“That's what Baba’s for! Baba takes care of baby AND daddy-baby! Right Baba?” You asked, pleading eyes staring holes right through Bucky’s heart. And to his surprise, Steve was looking at him just the same way.

Bucky started internally kicking himself. How many times had Steve secretly needed this and didn’t have the courage to ask? How many times had Steve been on the verge of regression himself, but never gave himself the permission? The love Bucky felt for you was the same love he felt for Steve; the most important thing to him was knowing that the both of you felt that love.

“Of course, my little loves!” Bucky replied, placing a hand on each of yours and Steve’s cheeks.

You could see Steve smile softly as he let himself relax, even just a fraction. Regression was new for him, despite having these feelings in the back of his mind, he’d never let himself entertain them. Steve quickly realized he felt lost, the combination of being little and being inexperienced in this littleness setting in at the same time, both of them building on each other. Steve’s smile dropped, and his cheeks flushed bright red.

“I-I don’t know how…” He whispered, his voice shaking, not nearly as strong and confident as it usually was.

“That’s okay, Stevie, I teach you!” You exclaimed, and Steve perked up at your little nickname for him.

“Okay.” He said, and you took that as a sign to wrap your cozy blanket around his shoulders. Immediately, the tension evacuated his body, as Steve let himself feel cared for for the first very time.

[deliciousangelfestival]

My Problematic Girl - Chapter 1

Character: College!Steve Rogers x Rich!Female Reader

Prologue:  Steve has lived being nobody in this prestigious university. He just wants to graduate and get a job to get more money to pay the bills for his mother's surgery. 

But his life turned upside when a new student attended his class. His quiet and dull life became dangerous and full of surprises.

×××

She exhaled the cigarette smoke from her lips. She still doesn’t care even though he told her he has asthma. 

She looked at Steve and said, “Bark for me.”

Steve felt humiliated, and his pride was crushed. But she held his life and secrets. He had to bury his dignity to the ground, and he murmured, 

“Woof.”

******

I would appreciate any comments and feedback you can give me. 

If you want to be tagged in this series, please tell me.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 ,Chapter 8 , Chapter 9,-

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi

Pine trees, old gates, red bricks, this is the same view Steve saw every day for the past two years at Stark University he attended as an art student. 

He always remembered the moment he got a scholarship and was accepted to this prestigious university. 

It was the first time he felt alive. 

He thought when his problem with tuition had been solved, he could enjoy being a university student compared to high school. 

But it turned out to be the same. Every student here is super rich; they come to uni with their sports car, or their driver drives them to uni. 

They live differently from Steve, who has to work different types of part-time jobs to get more money and pay hospital bills for his mother. 

On the first day of class, the way rich kids look at Steve when they see him walk into the class, they know he doesn’t have the same life standards as them. 

Steve tried to be friendly with them; they were nice at first. But he realised they were using his talents to do their work. They treat him like, ‘It’s a privilege to hang out with us; you should be grateful.’

Since then, Steve decided it was better to be a loner. With only eight months left, he will graduate and no longer have to meet these people. His footsteps stop in front of the class door. 

"Did you watch the game last night?"

"You bet, and guess what? I sat with the club owner."

“Girls, my dad got us the ticket for that concert.”

That’s what Steve heard every day in his class. He couldn’t join the conversation because of his financial status. 

Steve took the headphones from his pockets and put them on his ears. No one even bothered to say Hi when he walked into the classroom. 

That’s good because if one of his classmates greets him, they want Steve to do their work. It’s better to be invisible or a wallflower. 

He went to his table, dropped the old canvas backpack, and took out the sketchbook. 

Since Steve was a kid, drawing was the only way for him to escape from reality. He forgot how his abused father, sick mother and snobby classmates were.

While drawing, Steve heard one of the female students start gossiping. One of the nice perks of being invisible, he could get a lot of gossip in this university.

“My father met the chancellor yesterday and heard a new student will join this class.”

“Before one semester to graduate? That’s unbelievable, but how?”

“I heard she’s close with Tony Stark. I guess one of his young girlfriends?”

“No, euuh.”

All the gossipers start laughing like they are better than anyone. But Steve agreed with one thing, what kind of person could attend a class last semester?

Suddenly the class door opened, and it was Prof. Abraham Erskine; before he walked into the room, he turned back and signalled, ‘Wait’. 

He put his documents on his table and looked at his students. “Guys, you have new friends. Please be nice to her, alright?” 

“Yeah.”

“Perfect.” Prof.Erskine clapped his hands once and waved his hand towards the person behind the door. “Come in.”

The rumour is true; a new student is joining the class. 

Everyone could see her arrogant attitude when she walked into the room. 

But the way she dressed from head to toe took the attention of every female student. 

One of the females who sat in front of Steve whispered to her friend, “Did she wear those shoes to class, and that watch… cost more than this class tuition.”

“Who is she? If she were in the socialite club, I would’ve known.”

“Her name is Y/N L/N; starting today, she will study with us until last semester.” Prof.Erskine looked at Y/N and said, “Please be nice and don’t make trouble in my class.” 

Everyone gasped when they heard their Professor beg this one student. 

“Shit, she’s that bit*h.”

Steve turned to one male student who immediately closed his mouth. 

“Who?”

“Remember that chaotic night at the H club? She kicked one of the guests to the table. She didn’t even apologise and continued her drink.”

“Ohh, I heard a drunk guy won't leave the female guest. She kinda helps the victim.”

"I remember she went to the same school as me. She kicked a teacher to the window and threw the table at him."

"She didn't get in any trouble?"

“Her father is the CEO of a Law Firm."

"Her parents gave her a penthouse, and I heard she always held amazing parties."

"That's cool. We should ask her later to hang out with us."

Steve shook his head; how fast their opinion changed when they knew she had money.  

Prof. Erskine didn’t bother with his students, who kept whispering. He told Y/N, “You could sit near the window with that boy. His name is Steve.”

Y/N nodded and went to the chair where the Professor pointed his finger. Everyone in the class stops talking and watches her whenever she walks. Their eyes are looking in Steve's direction. 

Their gaze made him nervous; today was not his lucky day. He lowered his head and continued sketching. 

Nothing happened when she sat beside him. Steve thought he had to greet and introduce himself. But it’s unnecessary because she grabs a tablet and wireless headphones and starts playing games. 

Everyone widened their eyes; the audacity of her being impolite and arrogant was on another level.

What Steve had in mind, ‘Ah, another rich kid.’

Professor Erskine didn’t even bother; he opened his laptop and set up the projector. “We will continue the study of Leonardo Da Vinci of his … … …”

Steve looked to the front,t but then he glanced at the new student. Before, she played games, and now she reads online comic books.

'Wait, did she read it from that website?'

She looked at him and caught him off guard. Steve nodded his head and looked back to the front. His face felt hot because that was embarrassing.

After the class ended, the first person who stood up after the Professor left was Y/N. A few people tried to approach her, but Y/N replied to them by saying, "Get lost."

Steve was confused; on the first day, Y/N had started to make an enemy. She could quickly join the clique if she wanted to, but it doesn’t seem like she cares.

‘Bzzt.’

Steve opened the message on his phone that said, “New 24 pages. Do you want to take the job?”

He immediately typed, “Yes.” It's an offer for extra money; Steve wouldn't say no. 

“Steve, I have to talk about your final project.” Professor. Erskine asked him. For their final, every student has to make an exhibition. Usually, universities will provide a warehouse for students. 

But now their curriculum has changed; the uni wants the students to find the place for their exhibition independently. 

Almost all the students have no problem with this except Steve. He couldn't even afford his rent. How can he get money to rent a place just for one day? 

That's why Prof. Erskine asked Steve about a sponsor. 

“Have you found the sponsor?" 

"Not yet, sir."

Steve gulped, he wanted to ask, but he didn't know anyone willing to give their money to sponsor an art student.

Prof. Erskine sighed. "I hope you will find a sponsor during the winter break, Steve. I know you will." He carried all his stuff and left the classroom. 

Steve sighed heavily; he wished he knew one person with money. 

Then he saw the new student, Y/N, looking at his sketchbook. He grabbed the book from her hand. 

“Ah, sorry.” He wanted to scold her, but Steve didn’t expect her to apologise. He put the sketchbook into his bag and gathered all his stuff to leave. 

“Wait.”

Steve's body stopped when he heard that. Then he saw Y/N grabbed her wallet and took an old photo. She shows it to him. It's a small photo in black and white colour, the paper also being crumpled or folded many times. When he saw it, he noticed the woman in the photo looked like Y/N. 

“Could you draw her to be 40 years old? In this photo, she’s 25 years old. I saw your drawing. The way you do the shadow and wrinkles is nice.”

Steve doesn't know how to feel since he never got a compliment from his classmates. 

“You won’t do it for free, of course. I will pay for it. Please?”

Steve takes a good look at her face. When she talks like this, it doesn’t seem like the same person from the class. And she asked nicely, and she was willing to pay. 

“Ok.”

“Great, I will give you the deposit first.” She took $200 hundred from her pocket and handed it to Steve's hands. 

His hands tremble because his drawing would only cost around $75. This money is enough to pay for groceries for a month. 

"Uhm, it's too much." Steve felt guilty if he took the money. He handed back the money to her. 

His act made Y/N quiet for a while; he thought she was mad at him, and she probably felt offended, but instead, she said, "No, for her, it's worth it."

When she said those words, Steve could feel the sadness in her voice. He doesn't know the meaning behind the story, but he will do his best to draw the photo. 

"I will finish this in 3 days."

"That fast?"

Her question made him curious, is she an art student? 

"Are you-?" 

"Y/N!!!"

Before Steve asks her, someone yells her name. He turned back and saw the chancellor of Stark University, Tony Stark. 

It's difficult to meet him, even though there are only two places to find him: the engineering lab or a nightclub. He's a famous playboy but also a genius. 

So, to make him come by to this building is fantastic. And he's here for Y/N. 

Is the rumour true that she's Tony's side chick?

"Nice to meet you, Steve. See you tomorrow."  Y/N smiled at Steve and went to Tony. 

He saw both of them walking together. Perhaps the rumour may be true. 

Steve shook his head; it was not even his business. He should go home quickly and start drawing since he got two jobs today. 

When he gets home, he turns on his old PC, grabs his drawing tablet and opens the storyboard he received. 

Steve clicked his tongue; as a freelance artist, he can't say no to his client, but his morals get tested every time he gets a new storyboard from the client. 

His work is drawing for Hentai comics. Some people see this as disgusting, but some people will like it. And Steve works with the people who are willing to pay. He will receive any request from the website called www.readwithme.com

This is the biggest secret he kept if anyone from the university knew his work. He could get dropped out. He even kept it from his best friend, Bucky. 

He carefully picks a secret name and uses another email so no one will figure him out. His ID is VioletDust18. 

Many people have read his works and subscribed to the story. He doesn't get paid much, but it's enough to pay the bills and rent...

He already got the rough sketch and opened the reference to start drawing. Steve didn't feel aroused when he looked at the photo or storyboard.

When the clock showed 9.00 p.m, Steve finished three pages. He stopped when he felt hungry. He opened up his wallet and saw $200. Today he will order a food delivery to treat himself, and tomorrow, he will buy groceries. 

Suddenly Y/N appeared in his mind. He is grateful that she pays more than enough. But one thing that worries him is that she opens the website with Steve’s artwork. 

She seems like not an art student. She probably wouldn't notice. 

Yeah, it's better if she didn't notice, and after he's done with her request, she will ignore him.

Thank you for reading. I hope you like it.

If you have any feedbacks or want to join the tagged list, you can tell me.

I will always be grateful for those who reblog. Thank you so much.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7 ,Chapter 8 , Chapter 9,-

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[a-strange-echo]

Flufftober day4: "Cinderella moment"

Pairing: Pre-serum!Steve Rogers x gn! Reader

Summary: When working on fixing a boat on a hot day, Steve can't help but compare himself to Bucky again. Luckily, Y/N is there to remind him what really matters.

Word count: 555

Warnings: self-estime issues, self-worth, other than that, none, pure fluff

Author's note: finally up to date! WOO!

Author's feelings: wasn't too sure about it at first (at think you can tell by reading it) but I'm really glad with the end and the way it turned out!

Y/N, Steve and Bucky had been friends since childhood, there wasn’t a moment when one wasn’t with the other. Even when they would fight (which was rare) it wouldn’t last long. They were best friends and will always be, no matter what happens. Bucky knew of Steve’s feelings for Y/N and would often tease him about it, although never in front of them. Bucky felt something changed in the group dynamic when they were around 19 but he was fine with it, he could manage Steve constantly gushing over Y/N when in private. He would much rather deal with a head over heels Steve that with a crying, heartbroken Steve.

“-Are you sure you guys don’t want to take a break?” Y/N asked from their sitting spot on the dock.

“-Yes, we will be over soon.” Bucky yelled from the other side of the boat.

Both he and Steve got hired by a nice old man from the dock who asked for help to fix his boat. The boys and Y/N agreed, but it was very hot today and Y/N opted to take a break and drink a nice chill glass of water while the men continued to work but with now their shirt off. Sometimes, a few young ladies and gentlemen walking by would stop to admire and talk with Bucky but it wasn’t who Y/N got their eyes on.

“-Oi, stop mashing! Poor Stevie is doing all the work!” Y/N called for Bucky. “Although I’m not complaining for I have a very good view…” they said having, indeed, a nice view of Steve’s frail back and butt. “He looks like he could use some help.”

Nobody could see it but Steve blushed like crazy from the comment. What Y/N saw however was the nasty look one of the men sent their way after assessing Steve. Their only response to that was to glare harder and appear meaner to scare the guy and to show Steve was well protected.

“-Then why don’t you help him?” Bucky asked, not really annoyed by the interruption.

“-I’m not strong enough.”

“-Y/N, I don’t need help.” Steve intervened.

“-Stevie, not to offense you, but you look like you are going to pass out. Take a break.” their voice was immediately softer when addressing to him.

Steve sighed but complied, putting the tools down and walking toward the dock, starting to feel dizzy. Y/N patted the empty spot next to them for him to sit and he did. He grabbed a coke that the old man gave them from the cooler next to him, trying to cool down. The two watched the scenery. It wasn’t the prettiest by all means but in this instant, they were the only existing on this dock. The sun was soon going to set and the distant chatting of Bucky and other passers-by were a nice change in pace compared to the buzzing of the city.

“-Do you think I could be like him one day?” Steve asked and Y/N didn’t have to look at him to know he was referring to Bucky.

“-Why should you be like him when you are already so much more?” They asked back. When he didn’t respond and only looked down, blushing, Y/N put their head on his bony shoulder. “Besides, I’ve always preferred smaller men.”

[hoppers-babygirl]

Commissions

So.. I usually add my kofi to my stories just if anyone wants to help but PayPal hates me so I haven’t been able to fix that yet but I do have CashApp if anyone wants to send in a little something for a story. All will help even reblogs and boosting.

Thank you guys so much for the support on my series Forget It. This years been pretty crazy so it is nice to see that the story is still alive and enjoyed!

[twsssmlmaa]

This was so cute, I couldn’t stop reading until I finished it 🫠🥰🤭

Out of Time Masterlist

After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 3 

Part 4 

Part 5 

Part 6 *

Part 7 

Epilogue 

Series Warnings: Canon typical violence, * contains Smut, mostly fluff with a sprinkling of angst

[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.

[ronearoundblindly]

Some Steve for you to enjoy 🥰🫶🏻

Gurl, this f***ed me up! I wanted to try to make it a snippet of Item 107 or The Cinder King, but the muses were just like "you know what you need? emotional damage." So now here we have my first semi-legit period piece (which has zero useful era detail eh) and truly is just the carrier for skinny!Steve love. Hint: It's thirsty, smutty love with hardly any plot ANGST.

Hello and welcome to Lexi's most self-indulgent fic ever. It's got everything: crippling insecurities about my real-life stuff, horniness unmatched even if there were sex pollen shot directly into their faces, and everyone is touch-starved. \o/ Enjoy! WC probably close to 3k but idk because I'm too afraid to look back at it. *slams post button*

Turned away again, Steve "4F" Rogers steps out of the recruitment center to see you standing there, staring up at the posters promising glory.

People hustle around you, several even knocking into you, but you remain transfixed, invisible. You're clutching your purse like a lifeline.

Down one step, worn-through shoes barely hiding every seam in the cobblestone, Steve has to get closer because that's the direction of home and a lonely, empty apartment he can hardly afford. He has to pass by. He has to, but then he sees the amber light reflect on trails of tears down your cheeks.

He has to stop.

"Miss?" Steve clears his throat, his own arm smacked by a rowdy man who then swats at your ass just as Steve tries to get your attention again.

You jolt and turn to him in surprise, hand flying up to cover a sob, sweeping to wipe the evidence of emotion from your face.

Fast--faster than Steve really processes--he's shouting for the guy to apologize before the guy makes to advance, Steve presses himself between you and the asshole still laughing at disrespecting you, and then he--Steve--is getting shoved into the alley with you still at his back.

It's dusk. The alley is nearly black. Steve can hear you crying but he's slipped on the stones wet from an afternoon rain. He scrambles to right himself.

Amidst the cries, he hears grunts of anger and resistance, terror creeping into his chest as Steve thinks you're being assaulted.

"Piece of shit," you bite out. The silhouette of you hurling your bag at the man's face repeatedly is clear from where Steve crouches, backlit as you are by the movie theater marquee.

Then the guy is down on the ground, too, being stomped on by your two-inch heel. "Piece of fucking shit."

"Woah," Steve jumps forward to hold you back. "Woah, language, ma'am. Let's go. Just leave him."

He has a weak arm around your waist, but you kick at the man one more time for good measure, hissing "liar" before turning to follow.

Your hand in his, Steve hurries through the streets, picking the ones he knows are busier but maneuverable to make sure you're not being pursued. Each time he looks back, he sees your sinking face, more tears, more exhaustion, and he makes a flash decision.

He doesn't stop until he locks the door of his apartment behind you both, and you break down on the bare wood floor.

"You hurt? Did he hurt you?" Steve's boney knees land a few inches from yours and he leans over, his long fingers brushing over your pinned hair and stiff curls that dislodged in the commotion. "You're alright. You're safe here."

Where your legs crumple underneath you, your slip lays over your thigh, uncovered by the skirt pooling on the other side of your hip. He can see the outline of a garter strap and the top of your stocking beneath the silky material. Steve's always loved pretty, delicate things. He also loves the faint bulge of flesh around the restraints.

There's meat on your bones, something to hold onto, and he shakes his head, chastising himself for noticing all the wrong things about the crying woman in his home. His lonely, empty home.

Steve attempts to think of anything other than your body.

"Do you know him? What'd you call him a liar for?"

You sigh in defeat, hands flopping into your lap, and confess that it wasn't about him so much as a man not here anymore. Gone. To war. You tell Steve a rambling tale of excuses and snide comments, of a parting that left you wondering why that man--any man--bothered to be with you in the first place, of a surety that you weren't ever wanted.

"I thought he loved me but he lied."

Steve sits cross-legged in front of you now, enthralled and utterly confused. Why would anyone...?

"That's the worst part," you exclaim, voice cracking. "I don't know. I'll never know." Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your skirt. "I heard today that he died. Don't know where. Don't know when. And I hate that I still care."

"But he wasn't good to you," Steve soothes and wraps his hand around yours, "and he wasn't good for you."

All you do is shrug and hide your face. Tears falls to the fabric below your eyes and seep through in dark patches.

He scoots forward and lifts your chin with a gentle nudge. When your puffy red eyes meet his, he's struck by how lucky he feels to see you like this. It's odd to think someone who knew you more and for so much longer couldn't feel infinitely more attached and protective. You're so vulnerable, so open, so...

"You're beautiful." Steve's tongue swipes over his dry lips. "You're so beautiful."

The words are loaded heavier than tanks and pack the punch of a bomb. He can tell you don't truly hear him by the way you shrink and shake your head out of his hold.

"Don't do that," he pleads. "Please don't hide from me."

"You don't know me."

"No, but I--"

"You don't even know my name!"

He sits back and offers his hand.

"Hi, I'm Steve. It's nice to meet you, and I think you're beautiful."

"That's stupid," you lash out, bitterly spitting the half-hearted, heart-breaking words. "You must be an idiot, Steve."

It's not the first time he's heard it, but it is the first time he's not mad at hearing it. He believed those things, too, long ago, before his mom convinced him to see the possibilities in one's struggles. If you perceive it as an obstacle, it is an obstacle. Perceive it as an opportunity instead and use it. Those aren't her exact words, but Sarah Rogers has so many different ways of teaching the same fundamental lessons that Steve can't remember the phrases anymore.

He can remember the feeling. He remembers seeing both obstacles and opportunities.

"Is it stupid to want to touch you?" he whispers. "Because I would love to touch you."

The question is purposefully leading since he knows from your story that's exactly what you long for. It'll be more impactful if he shows you he longs for that too.

Slowly--so slowly--his hand comes up to your cheek again, his fingers tucking behind your neck.

"I don't want your pity." There's still bitterness but no power behind it. You gently shift closer and meet him halfway.

He's kissed girls before, he's fooled around, and he has, in fact, slept with one girl. They went all the way--twice--which means Steve knows what it is to be pitied intimately. He knows what it's like to want something so badly you don't care what the motivation is.

You deserve to know his motives.

"I don't pity you." His focus falls to your quivering lip. "I want to make you happy." He's close. He's so close his breath rolls warm over your face. "I want to make you smile."

A soft whimper leaves you just as his mouth arrives.

"I want you," he says into the kiss.

Instead of fighting, you grab at his jacket, pulling him until you're both falling into the stand lamp. You taste of salt and something sweet he can't put his finger on. Steve resolves to put that on the list of things to find out about you.

He keeps kissing you as you both fall, the lamp now wedged at an angle by the side table. Despite the tangle of tongues, Steve keeps his hands to himself. He doesn't quite have enough answers.

"What do you want, beautiful?"

Hesitant as he pulls away, gripping worn leather like your purse in the street, your eyes dart between his. You're a dream beneath him, but that sounds too selfish to voice.

"May I..." Steve is already panting "...get you off the floor? More comfortable?"

Maybe you haven't been able to say the words, but Steve doesn't need more convincing to know you want him.

He could tell from the way you pawed at him. He could tell from the multiple times you crashed him into the walls along the hall to makeout more. He could tell from the way you melted like hot butter at his every returned touch, but finally, you two made it to his bed.

He'd be embarrassed by the lumpy old thing if there weren't a curvy, luscious dame standing with wide legs at the foot of it, letting his tie slip through your hands as he sits stunned.

Steve swallows thickly.

"Let me see you." It comes out as more of an order than the hopeful question he intended, but when he sees the command shiver through you, he feels six-foot-six and powerful as all hell.

You two share the burden of unbuttoning all of your layers, spinning you a few times to release front and back and side to side. His hands spread and roam to relish each garment, each moment, until you're top half is naked.

He stares, fierce blue irises muted by the dim light on his bedside table, 'beautiful' on his lips every second you spend with your finger yanking the knot of his tie and sliding off the bond. When you lean to pop his shirt buttons, your breasts hang in his face.

Steve stops you by your wrists, peaking up at you through his long lashes as he takes a nipple in his mouth. He keeps thinking it--beautiful--while his tongue sweeps flat across pebbling flesh. Each subsequent swirl has you melting again, pressing more of you to his face, dragging nails up his chest, sighing long and deep. When he switches to the other side, your fingers bury in his hair. He takes his time to worship you, tracing his own fingertips around the hem of your slip and garters.

He doesn't get impatient, if anything Steve feels greedy for wanting more, for praying this lasts forever, for needing all you're willing to give.

His teeth graze your skin in wanton lust, and you flinch in surprise, knocking you off-balance.

You fall to your knees on the mattress, straddling Steve's slender body beneath your hot core.

"Sorry," you mutter, wriggling to stand, forcing Steve to wrap his arms around you and halt your retreat. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you."

"You can sit on me morning, noon, and night," he rasps. "I won't complain. I'll thank you, beautiful."

He groans pathetically when you relax, the grind of your ass making his slacks pinch tighter and tighter. Steve lets his head fall back on the sheets, eyes fluttering shut. The army might not want him, the world outside may forget he ever existed, but you see. He could get addicted to this feeling. He might get lonely without it.

Steve isn't strong enough to keep hold of you, but your weight never leaves, his erection still slotted between your cheeks. His mouth drops wide when your hips roll. Steve whines when you rise up enough to resume unbuttoning him. His lungs and heart go into overdrive, but even so, Steve doesn't want you doing all the work.

He flips you--using the sum total of his strength--and shuffles backward to stand, ripping the tails of his shirt from beneath his belt and shucking off his trousers. That part he could have been more patient for, but Steve smirks and brushes away the hair falling in his eyes, chest heaving from exertion.

He's pleased to see you watching him, ogling his body without judgment. You look like you want to eat him alive, and he is perfectly fine with that.

His palm lands on your knee to sneak higher beneath your slip, nimble fingers popping the clasps along your stockings and hooking through the band of your underwear. You lifting for him is all the permission he needs. Steve leaves your slip, garter belt, and stockings in place, and in a cheeky twist, he lets your underwear hang off one of your ankles, kissing your inner thigh, pushing your knees wider for him to fit.

He throbs in his boxers at the sight of your sex.

Nerves roil in his belly at the idea he is solely responsible for your pleasure. As he glances up to you, propped up on your elbows with a fearful and expectant gaze, he sees a poster promising honor and glory, a service to be proud of, and for the first time, he has doubts.

You see it in his eyes.

"Steve?"

He wants to participate and show that he's worthy of you.

This isn't about him though, and Steve Rogers is nothing if not dedicated anyone other than himself.

"Right here." He snaps back to reality, laying his hand to your thatch of hair and gently teasing his thumb along your folds. "I'm right here, beautiful."

It's an honor to touch you. He's proud of the moan elicited because he strokes over your clit rhythmically. The glory of watching you writhe is all his.

Steve's breath stays rapid as yours picks up. You're fisting the sheets, slick pooling beneath the pad of his thumb, helping him pick up speed. He dips into you, tests the breach while pushing his boxers down, and crawls over the edge of the bed. Like magnets, you guide each other higher till the pillows cradle you.

You're a broken record, repeating a desperate loop.

"Steve," you whimper.

"Won't ever lie to you." He captures your lips again. "Want you so badly. I'll want you all the time."

Steve doesn't understand why you won't talk to him, so he slows, eyes questioning and brow furrowed. You have to see. The light is right there.

Bottom lip trapped, you still say nothing, but your arms raise to his smooth face and plead in the silence.

He wants the same thing. He wants to feel. Not just the sting of rejection. Not just the slippery, rough stones through his shoes. Not just the empty ache inside. He wants to feel like someone cares whether he lives or dies.

You care even when you don't want to, but Steve can earn you, your care, your smile and your tears. He'll get up and come home to you every time. He needs you to come home to.

Otherwise, this is a lonely, empty apartment. Otherwise, he is a lonely, empty man.

Your hands bring him close, lips pausing just before contact while Steve sinks two fingers into you.

You gasp. His fingers curl. His thumb goes back to work. You kiss him with what little breath you can hold between muted cries until Steve notices your roving hands tug at his waist.

He wants the same thing.

Sitting back on his heels, Steve drapes your thighs over his, his slick fingers spreading you. He's mesmerized watching his cock disappear inch by inch, and the caress of your walls shuts down all other brain function. All he can do is slide against you, bent into your soft body, your breasts padding his jerky thrusts, the base of him perfectly laving the hood of your clit in the growing mess.

You're wet, and he's driven wild by the need to make you come. He tries to sit up again, to play with you properly, but he's stopped by the weight of your legs crossed behind his ass, the strength of your thighs anchoring him in place.

Steve takes huge, deep breaths through his nose because he won't last concentrating on how your body bounces and ripples, plush beneath his boney form.

You get wetter, looser in a welcoming way that spurs him to drive himself home faster. He sucks in air, though it's futile once his heavy balls start to seize.

Suddenly, you shout, stretching to push yourself completely flush with his pelvis, and he has to pull out, keeping aligned with the cut of you as aftershocks make you mindlessly hump him. Steve's cum shoots all over his belly and your chest, some drops dampening what clothes he didn't discard, stains of joy replacing stains of sadness.

His chest might explode. He's gasping, taxed beyond his naughtiest dreams, head lolling toward the ceiling with his throat high.

He feels your legs fall away, and Steve hopes for an instant that you embrace him even though he might suffocate in the process.

The envelopment never comes. The world is fuzzy and too warm beyond him.

He hears the sink in his bathroom turn on just as he lands palms-down on sweaty sheets. He tries every trick he knows to calm down. The water still runs after all the time it takes for him to recover and stand. The closer he gets to the doorway, the clearer the sound really is.

Sobbing.

"Beautiful? What's wrong? Did I--"

The faucet squeaks off, and you barrel out, nearly running him over, your arms covering your chest and your disheveled hair hiding your face.

"What are you doing? Are you cold?" Steve tries.

"I'm disgusting," you hiss in a mad dash for the pile of clothes on the floor.

He trips over his feet to stop you, corralling you as best he can, but you're quick. You certainly have fight in you. Steve only want to show you you do not have to fight him.

"Come back to bed," he commands hopefully, grabbing your wrist as you scoop up your wrinkled dress. "I should clean up, but please, please, come back to bed."

There is something broken and fearful in the way you finally meet his eye. He's torn apart, shredded down to nothing in a single look. That's not how a feral animal sees the world; that's how an animal, abused and betrayed, locks the world out.

Your protection is what you really took off for him. Your thick armor is what Steve got past.

"I didn't lie." He lets go of you and steps back as calm as his rasping breaths can manage. "I want you. I want you to stay." He wonders whether he ought to cover himself, too, because perhaps total vulnerability makes you more nervous.

So he presents himself as an opportunity, not an obstacle.

Steve finds his boxers a foot away and says one more time, "I hope you stay."

Unmoving, your eyes follow his walk to the bathroom, and in the split second he's looking down to turn the tap, you're gone.

Disappointment floods his system, but like all the other stamped failures in his record, Steve goes through the motions of caring for a body that thwarts his desire to live at every turn. In fact, it tries to die so often, he's always surprised to find himself here, staring at this mirror again, wondering why he gets back up.

He's also surprised to find you here, in the bed with the sheet pulled up to your chin, nodding to the side table where you've placed a cup of water.

The tiniest of genuine smiles curves your lips.

Steve's home is neither lonely nor empty anymore. He could cry.

A/N: this got so incredibly out of hand... I'm so sorry. But also, thank you for reading!

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

SMALL WORLDS.

PAIRING — 1940s!steve rogers x f!reader

CONTENTS — one-shot; hurt/comfort; somewhere between fluff and angst; mild sexual content; established relationship; let’s also ignore canon and pretend they lived happily ever after 😭

SUMMARY — all he ever wanted to do was the right thing. it never occurred to him that doing the right thing could possibly hurt someone he loves.

WORD COUNT — 1.5k

NOTES — this is my submission for my own creative campaign lmao 😅 i just got inspired looking at those prompts again, okay? and these are my missing pre-serum!steve hours 😭 and after the week i’ve had, i need some comfort~

PROMPTS USED — geranium = returning joy / plumeria = “well, this is new.” / zinnia = mourning your absence

✩ read on ao3 ✩ chris evans characters m.list ✩ forget-me-not creative campaign ✩ library blog

Bucky had been wrong. 

His best friend predicted that you would be thrilled to see the new him. After all, the girls at the SSR couldn’t seem to stay away, nor could the flight nurses out on the frontlines, no matter how many times he told them he had a girl back home and just wasn’t interested. 

Howard was the only one who knew well enough to warn him; given how Steve had left things with you before he took off on his tour across the country, he shouldn’t expect everything to be sunshine and rainbows when he got back. 

The two of you had fought, the biggest one in the history of your relationship, and hadn’t spoken to each other in days before he had to leave. His efforts to lie his way into the army was always a source of friction between you, and this, being selected as the subject for Project Rebirth, was just another straw on the camel’s back. 

Steve knew you were just afraid for him, as anyone who mattered to him would be, but it was something he knew he had to do. Unfortunately he couldn’t be convinced, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t also terrified of facing the consequences. 

“Be prepared to grovel, Rogers, like you’ve never done before,” Howard warned, giving him a grave look before waving him off. “Hell hath no fury.” 

So, he showed up at your door only days before he had to leave for Italy, holding a bouquet of flowers and shuffling nervously on his feet as he waited. Steve didn’t know what to say when you opened the door, feeling a little awkward himself at nearly two feet taller and about a hundred fifty pounds heavier. 

You stared at him for a moment, almost as if you didn’t recognize him. 

“Hi,” he said sheepishly, giving you a hesitant but hopeful smile. You looked like you might reel back and punch him, no doubt still angry about the way things went down and how he’d returned to you looking like an entirely different man, but then your face crumpled. 

There were downsides to the serum, he realized, as he could smell the salt of your tears before they even reached your lashes. He leaned down, bending at the waist, something he never had to do before, letting you wrap your arms around his widened shoulders. He could taste the relief in your tears as he kissed them away. 

In the hours that followed, however, you remained distant. He caught you staring thoughtfully at him from across the kitchen, only to quickly avert your eyes when he looked up from the hearty dinner you made him. 

You pulled away subtly when he reached for your hand or the soft dip of your waist, flinch when he moved to kiss your cheek, and returned all his dumb jokes with tight smiles. 

“Well, this is new,” he grinned softly as he stepped behind you, his chest firm against your back, grabbing a jar on a high shelf that you were struggling to reach. 

It took you a few moments too long to turn towards him, your lips curving upwards ever so slightly but it never quite touching the rest of your features. 

Even when he lay next to you that night, it felt like you were miles away. He was leaving soon, all the way to Italy and then to god knows where else, and he didn’t want to leave things this way. He didn’t want to go yet, not while he was uncertain about whether you’d welcome him back next time. 

But as always, it’s like you hear the thoughts in his head without him ever needing to speak them. It’s why this works; he broods and you see through him, as though you have a map directly to his heart. 

“It feels strange,” you confess in hushed tones, the two of you lying in the darkness of your bedroom. When the two of you touch, it feels foreign. You feel guilty, as though you were somehow being unfaithful to a version of him that would never come back. 

“I know,” he says, reaching for you. His heart sinks when you pull away. He lays there in silence, his enhanced vision capturing you so clearly in the dark, staring up at the ceiling as your bottom lip quivers. 

“You took him from me,” you whisper, eyes shining so brightly with anguish in the moonlight. It takes a moment for him to realize what you mean. He can hear the tears sliding down your temples and dripping onto the pillow. 

All he ever wanted to do was the right thing. It never occurred to him that doing the right thing could possibly hurt someone he loves. 

“I’m still me,” he murmurs, his fingers desperate to wipe them away, his arms itching to find their place around you once again. 

“To everyone else, even to you, he was always just that scrappy little nobody from Brooklyn. But to me?” You are weeping now, your voice thick with grief even though he’s right next to you. “To me, he was everything. I don’t want Captain America. I want Steve. My Steve.” 

Steve swallows hard. You always were the only one who did. 

“He’s still here,” he pulls you close and this time, you don’t fight him. You fold yourself against him, crying harder when you are met with the hard sharp planes of his new body, instead of his usual soft edges that always seemed to embrace you right back. “I’m right here.” 

He lets you cry into his chest until, after what seems like hours, you finally drift off into an uneasy sleep, the front of his shirt still damp with your despair. 

But it doesn’t take much longer to find a new normal. 

He still smiles at you the same way as the day you met, a little sheepish and a little shy even after all this time. 

He still does that thing where he intertwines his fingers with yours, his touch a little evasive, teasing you a bit before finally pressing your palms together. 

He still holds you for as long as you need, always letting you be the first one to pull away. 

He still quietly fills the pages of sketchbooks that he hides on your bookshelf. 

He still eats so slowly, taking his time at your dining table because even a slightly bigger portion than normal used to make him sick. 

He still looks at the most terrible parts of humanity and decides that the world is worth saving. 

You slowly get used to the fact that he can reach the higher cabinets in your kitchen now, that he no longer falls ill at each turn of the season, and that while you will never get to see your Steve again—even though you think of him often—this Steve is right: he never really left. 

And when you’ve forgiven him, because there really was no question about it, when you’re ready to give yourself to him again, you’re both a bit nervous and awkward. 

It takes a little bit of dancing to get used to each other’s bodies again; you’re much smaller compared to him now, and he’s afraid he’ll forget his newfound strength and inadvertently hurt you somehow. 

But, much like you did before when he was small and inexperienced, he guides you and you eagerly follow. He lets you come to him, allows you to set the pace and boundaries of how far you’re willing to go, and he always looks at you the same. He even says it again—

“I can’t believe you’re here with me,” he croaks, so close you can smell his aftershave. 

It’s moments like these when you fully realize that while the serum changed him on the outside, it never touched what was inside. As always, he handles you with the utmost care, pulling you cautiously onto his lap, his hands gently cradling either side of your face as he drinks you in, eyes darting back and forth across your face before he finally leans in to kiss you. 

His eyes never once leave yours, even as you abandon your dress and undergarments on the bedroom floor. His fingertips slide down your sternum in a featherlight touch, down the valley between your breasts, before turning his hand over to brush his knuckles lightly over your rib cage, raising goosebumps in his wake. 

You stare into his familiar eyes, the ones that fill your vision with the clearest blue—as if you’re looking into a cloudless summer sky, just like the day you met the boy with a heart ten sizes too big for his chest—and you sigh in relief. 

“There you are,” you purr against his lips. 

His lips stretch into a smile, coaxing yours into doing the same. He remembers a promise he’d made to someone else not that long ago, and he promises it again—to you this time. 

That you will stay who you are. 

That he will never lose your Steve. 

fin.

© 2025 by thereoncewasagirlnamedjane. do not repost, translate, or copy to third party sites. no part of this work may be fed into any AI software or websites. minors are asked not to interact with my blog; you are responsible for your own media consumption. followers with zero engagement, serial likers and blank/ageless blogs will be blocked.

[scarfacemarston]

Bucky Barnes A-Z Fluff Alphabet!

Feel free to send in more requests for Bucky! Please think about "liking" and reblogging! These things take time. Also, I included a lot of 1940s Bucky as a comparison.

A - Affection (how do they show affection to their s/o)

Bucky has always been physically affectionate, but this changed after escaping his time in Hydra captivity. He's slowly beginning to experience positive touches again and quickly discovered how touch-starved he is, so physical touch is a significant way he shows affection, but there are days when he'll request not to be touched. He tries to be encouraging and complimentary, but he feels like it comes across as awkward and stilted. He'll try for quality time, but he does worry if he's overstaying his welcome. However, he does become less anxious as time goes on.

B - Best Friend (what are they like as a best friend?)

Look at Steve, for example! He's loyal to a fault. He will put his friend's well-being way beyond his own. He considers himself less of a decent friend than before, but he's wrong. He's just as great a friend as he used to be.  He's just as loyal and self-sacrificing. He will drop everything the moment you need help. The only reason he is ever distant is because he doesn't believe he's worthy of friendship, and his anxiety and depression get in the way. He will always doubt himself, but again, it improves in time.

C - Cuddling (do they like to cuddle? And how would they do it?)

Yes, physical touch with those he trusts is a soothing balm for him. He's always loved it when someone played with his hair, or he could hold hands, place an arm around his partner's waist - he loves it all, so loving to cuddle is really no surprise. He occasionally doesn't want to be touched, and that space is important to him, but otherwise, he'd be happy to be cuddled basically any time. It doesn't matter what position - he loves them all, but his favorite is lying on his back with your head on his chest.

D - Domestic (do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning)

In the 40s, he was expected to settle down at some point and probably would have in some form after the war. He still feels as though he has these expectations today, but it's more of a ghost memory than anything else. He'd be surprised that someone wants that with him - unless it's Steve. If it's Steve, he's not surprised at all and would consider it a continuation of their lives in Brooklyn. With a new partner, he can be convinced to settle down; he just wants to be sure that it's what you want. He knows how to clean and can cook simple meals, as we see in Romania. In the 30s and 40s, it was very much bachelor food like canned soup and a relatively clean, if not bare, apartment. Bucky can be a combination of messy and neat. It depends on his mental health. However, his residence is so devoid of decor that it's hard to make it messy. (This is seen with the comics as well.) He does improve when you move in with him. He enjoys cooking now in comparison to the 40s.

E - Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He's very quiet but very gentle and kind about it. He doesn't expect you to understand why, and he is hard on himself for breaking it off. He is more likely to break it off because of his own self-doubt, but he does have boundaries that, if broken - he will break it off. He expects you to hate him afterward and understands if you do, but his mind will not change.

F - Fiancé (how do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

In the 40s, Bucky loved dating around - he wasn't a himbo, but he did enjoy pursuing different people. He didn't want to settle down yet - unless it was with Steve, which was something he didn't want to think about logistically. However, he doesn't take commitment for granted nowadays and realizes how valuable it can be. He's not sure about marriage as it's nothing he ever really thought about outside of his mother reminding him he "should" get married, but if it feels right and it's discussed, he might be convinced. 

G - Gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Bucky is very methodological physically and emotionally speaking. He is very tender and careful, but steady physically speaking.He is especially careful with his prosthetic. Emotionally, he is stronger than one would expect. He isn't a pushover, and will defend himself or anyone else who needs defending, but he is gentler now than before he was the Winter Soldier.

H: Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) 

Once there's trust between you, yes. He loves hugs. He loved them in the 40s, and he loves them now. He definitely loves to be greeted with a hug and likes to give you a hug before he leaves somewhere, like a mission or therapy. They're very firm but gentle.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It would take Bucky a while before he said he loved you. The problem is, he either plans how he'll say it—his preference—or accidentally blurts it out in an especially tender moment and then dies of embarrassment. I would say it takes about half a year, but it really depends on your bond. 

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

The 1940s Bucky could get quite jealous. It wasn't a toxic masculinity thing, but it was definitely something he sometimes struggled with. He was never abusive about it, EVER, but it was something that bothered him, as seen with The First Avenger. Nowadays, he's less likely to be jealous because his confidence levels are a bit lower than before, but the more robust your bond, the more likely he is to get jealous because the two of you put so much work into it. He is definitely the type to give the death glare to end all death glares, make a snide comment, or generally find a way to stay by your side. 

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you?)

It really depends on his mood, as it does with anyone. Sometimes, he can give playful kisses, peppering them all over your face as he refuses to let go, or they can be slow and tender, full of meaning and gratefulness, or they can be scorching, searing, and passionate.

L: Little Ones (How are they with kids?)

Bucky has always been good with kids, even in the 40s, and that's thanks in part to having three little sisters. We also see the children in Wakanda love him. He's very relaxed and more himself around children. In the 40s, his mother used to harass him about when he'd give her grandkids. 

M: Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?)

In the 40s, it was getting up at the crack of dawn to work at the docks for 9-12 hour shifts, with him sleeping in late on the weekends. Now, he still sleeps late because he feels like he doesn't have anything else to do. However, given a routine and responsibilities like helping the Avengers or going on missions, he is more likely to keep a decent schedule. It's also his insomnia that causes him to sleep in more, but not as late as he used to. Now, he'll spend the mornings trying to coax you to stay in bed with him, whether that's through cuddles or fun. ; )

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Again, insomnia is his worst enemy. He tends to take late-night walks or read late into the night before staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep. Now, he does those things, but he can also enjoy sex with you, cuddling, or watching something stupid on TV. 

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Bucky was semi-open about himself in the 40s, but he was actually more likely to ask about you than about him. Sure, he'd talk about his family, Steve, or his work, but that was about it. However, that was partially the toxic belief that men just don't reveal everything about themselves. Now, it's more about feeling safe to do so and what is "too much." What will chase you away? When will it happen? However, as usual, with trust, this changes, and while there is much he will never reveal, he slowly opens up. 

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He could be a bit fiery in the 40s, but nothing compared to Steve. He was a saint in comparison to Steve. His anger is more biting and calling someone out, maybe raising his voice in the 40s. Now, it's more stormy and quiet. It can be biting, though, and there are still elements of him from the 40s with snide comments - but he hates to fight and would prefer to do anything to prevent it, or if there has to be a fight - find a resolution as soon as possible.

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail in passing, or do they kind of forget? )

In the 40s, he tried to remember as much as he could and actually impressed people with how thoughtful he could be. He remembered everything about Steve, his sisters, and the commandos, but also things about his enemies. Nowadays, he struggles with his memory, but he sometimes writes important things in his journal so he can remember them. However, the will is there, and he tries very hard.

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you watched a movie together and you put your head on his shoulder. It was the first time someone had done that to him since before he fell off the train. That moment turned into full on cuddling during the movie and he was so anxious - but giddy, that he couldn't focus on the movie.

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) 

1940s Bucky was very protective in about every way imaginable, but especially in the stereotypical 1940s ways. However, Bucky now isn't entirely too different from that. The main difference is that he is a little more modern in how he views women and that he is a bit more physically protective. Unsurprisingly, he is very concerned someone from his past might harm you. He's the type that wants you to text him when you get home safely and has similar habits. Emotionally, he has no problem standing up for you. It's something he's always been good at.

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, and gifts?)

He's always been thoughtful about dates, anniversaries, and gifts from childhood to now. He never had much money, so every penny had to count. If he couldn't buy something, he would plan extensively for just the right type of event to attend. With dates, he was a bit more traditional and knew what worked, like dinner and a movie or the carnival, but that doesn't mean he didn't put thought into it. Bucky is the same now, except perhaps even more thoughtful about it. He was always observant, but now he listens more than he talks, whereas before, it was the opposite. He may have more money now, but he prefers to put a lot of thought into what he gets you or something that can help you. Nowadays, he overthinks what he should do for a date or anniversary, but it's always wonderful even when things don't go as planned.

U: Ugly (What would be a bad habit of theirs?)

His self depreciation is pretty bad. His low self confidence also tends to get in the way of things - but it is of no fault of his own! As for an actual habit, he grinds his teeth and clenches his jaw too often giving him jaw pain. 

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Bucky could be quite vain in the 40s and spent quite a bit of time on his hair. He didn't have a choice about his appearance as the Winter Soldier and afterwards, he was too focused on survival and blending in to really care about his appearance. He is trying to get more into self care habits and rituals and you encourage him to spend time on himself, but he doesn't care like he once did. 

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Bucky was surrounded by people in the 40s so he would notice it less if his partner was gone, but he would still feel it! I just think he would bounce back quicker depending on how the relationship was while with Bucky now; he always tries to prepare for the worst and prepare himself for if you do leave him. He would survive, but he would feel like a light was extinguished.

X: Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

Bucky really misses the Indiana house he had to sell. He really wanted to stay there, build a community, and potentially raise a family there, but it wasn't meant to be. (This is more comic verse-esque)

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Bucky used to be a stomach sleeper, but that quit when he joined the army. It was too uncomfortable to sleep on his stomach then. It's not as easy with his prosthetic, but he still sleeps on his stomach sometimes. (This is canon for Comic Bucky.) 

[literaryavenger]

Birthday Kiss

Summary: It's Bucky's birthday and he decides to spend it with his best friend, Steve, and Steve's little sister, you.

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader, Brother!Steve Rogers x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Angst. Idiots in love. Fluff. Vague mentions to sex. Language 'cause I can't help myself. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 3.4K

Prompt: "So what should I say?" "when?" "when I love someone." "you should say it"

A/N: Since it's almost Bucky's birthday I wanted to celebrate it with my first fic with 40s Bucky! He's one of my favorite Buckys and I've been wanting to write about him for a while and I finally got this idea! Hope someone enjoys it! In my mind this happens like a year before Captain America: The First Avenger, so Bucky is turning 25, Steve is 23 and the Reader is 21, but you can always imagine any age you want. As always, any ideas for fics are appreciated!

Masterlist

You enter the room to see Bucky is hanging out in yours and Steve's apartment, like he always does, sitting down at the window, smoking a cigarette and reading the evening newspaper while a football game plays on the television in the living room and Steve sits on the couch, drawing on his notebook.

You're used to Bucky being here, he's your big brother's best friend and you've come to be very close friends with him too, even if you wished there was more.

As clichè as it is to have a crush on your brother's best friend, you couldn't help it. He was handsome and funny, and he's always sweet and protective of you.

You've known him since you were 9 years old, and he's the only family you have left other than Steve.

"Is this really how you're going to spend your birthday?" You ask Bucky as you sit on the couch next to Steve.

Bucky turns around towards you with a bright smile, his blue eyes lighting up as soon as he sees you, like they always do whenever he's around you.

He puts out the cigarette and stands up, walking over to you, sitting down on your other side and pulling you into a side hug.

"Hey, doll. I didn't think you were gonna be here today." He says, although he seems more happily surprised by your presence than disappointed.

"I live here, Barnes." You tease him with a smile. "Unlike you."

He rolls his eyes playfully as Steve snickers next to you while he keeps drawing. "I know that. I meant, I thought you were gonna be out with your friends tonight."

"I didn't feel like it." You dismiss him quickly, not wanting to actually say out loud that you'd rather spend his birthday with him doing nothing than go out with your friends, so you try to casually change the subject. "I thought you'd at least want to spend today with Dot."

Dot isn't actually Bucky's girlfriend, they've been on a few dates and you've seen them together a couple of times, but Bucky introduced her to you as a friend so you don't think they're that serious.

Not that Bucky ever is, girls are always all over him and he takes advantage of that. He's a ladies man.

But you try not to worry too much about his love life, not wanting to hurt yourself more than knowing Bucky will never see you like that already does.

"Well, I wanted to spend my birthday with my favorite pair of siblings. She can give me my birthday kiss tomorrow." He says with a grin while ruffling your hair.

"So... What's been going on with you lately, doll? Anything interesting happening in your life?" He asks curiously after a pause, genuinely wanting to know more about your day-to-day activities and experiences.

"I... Well, I went on my first date." You say shyly while playing with the edge of your dress.

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, his interest piqued by your sudden confession. "First date? Who was it with? How'd it go?" He asks with what seems like excitement but mentally preparing himself to potentially become jealous or possessive no matter who you mention.

"It was fine..." You say quietly, still not looking at him. "It just wasn't... It wasn't what I was expecting..."

Bucky senses something off in your tone and expression, and immediately becomes concerned. He places a gentle hand on your knee, trying to comfort you without making it too obvious.

"What happened, doll? Did things not go as well as you hoped they would? Are you feeling okay?" He asks softly, trying to gauge whether or not you want to open up about what happened during your date and if there's anything he can do to make it better.

You don't really know how to answer his question, so you don't, simply glancing at him before looking away and shrugging.

"Tell me what happened, I'm here for you no matter what. If that guy hurt your feelings or made you uncomfortable, I'll kick his ass for sure." He promises fiercely, his protective instincts kicking into high gear whenever you seem vulnerable or upset.

You giggle weakly at his protectiveness but still don't look at him, so he takes your chin gently but firmly and makes you look at him. "Tell me what happened on your date. Was it some creep who tried to grope you or something worse? Because if he did, I swear to god I will find him and break his fucking legs."

"That's not it, Bucky." You say quickly. "It's just... He just... He wasn't..." You. He wasn't you. That's what you want to tell him, but you can't, so you sigh and shrug again. "He just wasn't my type."

Bucky knew what was your type. He knew he was your type, he has seen you ogle him countless times when he walked past you or sat near you.

He also knew that you had never shown any interest in any of the men who approached you, always dismissing them as not good enough for you. Or at least that's why he thought you did.

Glancing at Steve before looking back at you again, Bucky says quietly. "Well, that's too bad for him I guess."

"It doesn't matter, I'm not seeing him again." I say quietly, avoiding both Steve and Bucky's eyes.

Bucky's brow furrowed in confusion, he couldn't believe you were so quick to give up on a potential relationship just because the guy didn't live up to your impossible standards.

"Doll, you gotta give guys more of a chance. They ain't all as bad as you seem to think they are." He scolds you playfully, but there was also a hint of underlying irritation in his tone as he takes a long sip from his beer bottle.

You glance at him before looking away again. "So... You think I should go on another date with that guy?" You ask quietly.

Bucky thought for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of pushing you to go on another date with the mystery guy. "Yeah, actually. I mean, if you think he's worth giving a second chance, then why not? And if he turns out to be a total dud again, then at least you can say you gave it a shot. But only if you're really sure he's worth your time though. Don't waste it on some loser who doesn't appreciate everything you have to offer."

He advised you, trying to strike a balance between being supportive and challenging you to take risks when it came to relationships. "But whatever you decide, don't let me pressure you into doing something you don't want to do. You've gotta follow your heart, doll."

"You know, Stevie doesn't care this much about who I date, and he's my older brother." You tease Bucky while glancing at Steve.

Bucky snorts in amusement, "Yeah well, I'm not your brother, sweetheart, but I'm your friend and your wingman, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit back and watch you throw away a potential chance to be happy. Now come on, make up your mind already. Are you gonna give the guy another chance or not?" He pressed, playfully but determinedly.

You look at his face for a moment before looking away again and sighing. "I'm not." You say quietly but firmly. "I'm not going on a second date with that guy." You clarify.

Bucky felt his jaw tighten a little as he realized that you had completely ignored his previous suggestion and were instead deciding against giving the guy a second chance.

He didn't like the idea of you potentially missing out on something good due to your own stubbornness, but he also knew that he couldn't force you to do anything you didn't truly want to do.

"Well, fuck. Guess that settles that then," He said after a moment of silence, trying to hide his disappointment but failing miserably. "You're really gonna just throw that opportunity away? Fine, suit yourself, I guess. But don't expect me to hold your hand or anything when you get sad because you're alone. You're on your own with that shit."

"I guess I am." You say quietly before getting up from the couch and going to the window, climbing into the emergency staircase to go up to the roof, like you do most nights to watch the stars.

Bucky watches you leave, feeling a mix of frustration and concern as he realizes that you're retreating to your usual spot on the roof rather than staying and talking to him.

He wants to call after you, to make sure you're okay, but he knows better than to push you if you need time alone.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the present moment, reminding himself that sometimes people need space and time to themselves.

"Fine. Have it your way," he calls after you, knowing that there isn't much else he can do in this situation. "But don't think for a second that I won't be keeping an eye on you up there. You better not try anything stupid."

You roll your eyes but don't stop, going up to the roof, that's right above yours and Steve's apartment, and sitting on the picnic blanket you and Steve use every night.

After a few minutes someone else comes to the roof and you can tell it's Steve by the light steps. "You sure you want to let Bucky alone in our apartment, Stevie? I'm afraid he might burn it down." You joke weakly without turning around to look at him, your eyes locked in the city's skyline.

Steve chuckles and you can feel him sitting down next to you. It's not the first time you sit together on the roof, everybody in your apartment building knows this is the Rogers siblings' spot.

You don't say anything and neither does Steve, and you're especially glad he doesn't say anything when he sees a tear falling down your cheek but simply wraps his arm around you as you lay your head on his shoulder.

"What's going on in your head, little sis?" Steve asks you after you stop crying.

You try to gather your thoughts, trying to find a way to make sense of everything swirling in your head. You take a deep breath before you pull away slightly and turn your head towards the city again. "What should I say?" You ask quietly.

"When?" Steve asks with a frown.

"When I love someone." I clarify looking back at him.

"You should say it." He tells you firmly. It's not the first time you've talked about this, Steve knows about your feelings for Bucky and like a good big brother he always tells you to express yourself. "You should tell him."

You sigh and look away from him and back to the New York skyline. "I don't know, Stevie..."

"Why not, Bambi?" You smile softly at his use of your childhood nickname because Bambi is your favorite book, but then you shake your head.

"Have you seen the way he looks at Dot? I have no chance with him. I'm not his type." You say with conviction.

"You really don't see it?" Steve ask, getting a little frustrated.

"See what?" You ask confusedly while looking back at him.

"The difference between you and her is that he looks at her like she's the prettiest girl in the world," Steve says and your heart sinks so you look away from him, but he still goes on. "but when he looks at you it's like... It's like maybe you're magic. He looks at you with such reverence and respect. He looks at you like if he could just have you in his arms, everything would be okay. Like if he had you, nothing could touch him. He looks at you like he just realized what love is."

Steve pauses and grabs your chin gently to make you look at him before finishing. "He loves you. Anyone can see that. You're just too blind to notice it."

Steve kisses your forehead and then gets up and goes back inside to the apartment, leaving you to think about everything he said.

You lay down on the picnic towel on the ground of the roof and look up at the stars. Could Steve be right? Does Bucky really love you back but you just haven't noticed?

If Bucky had feelings for you, certainly you would've noticed.

Yes, he's protective of you and he's always happy to have you around, but you've been friends for over a decade and he is your brother's best friend, so he probably sees you as just that. His best friend's sister.

But he never did treat you like Steve's annoying little sister.

Even when you were kids he always tried to include you in their games and literally held your hand whenever the three of you went somewhere, like the park a few blocks over.

He would always coo on you when you got any scrapes while playing and kiss your boo-boos away.

He's always been very sweet to you and he stood up for you as much as he did for Steve whenever someone bothered you.

But could that really be actual love? Or is it just affection for a girl he's known since you were little and sees as his own little sister?

You rub your eyes before putting your hands behind your head, getting comfortable while looking at the sky full of stars.

In the meantime, Bucky heard everything from the window of your apartment.

He couldn't deny the truth of what Steve had said, he did look at you with a sense of reverence and respect, like you held the key to unlocking his heart and making everything else in his life fall into place.

But he also knew that he had to tread carefully, to approach you in the right way or risk scaring you off completely.

As much as he wanted to take control of the situation and make things happen on his terms, he knew that he needed to let you come to him, to give you space to process everything that Steve told you and to allow you time to realize how much you actually mean to him.

As Steve climbs back into the window, he gives Bucky a pointed look and a pat in the back, silently encouraging him to talk to you.

Bucky takes a deep breath and then climbs into the stairs, getting to the roof but not getting any closer to you. He's determined to talk to you, but his nerves are getting the best of him.

You can hear Bucky coming to the roof and when he doesn't move closer you frown slightly but think he's just giving you a moment before sitting next to you.

When he stays put for a couple of minutes, you roll your eyes and with a small smile you say "You can come lay down next to me, if you want." Loudly enough for him to hear, your eyes never leaving the stars above you.

Bucky's heart skips a beat as he hears your invitation, and without hesitation he steps forward and drops down onto the towel beside you.

You can tell he's trying to keep his movements quiet, not wanting to startle you or disturb your peaceful contemplation.

He lays there quietly for a few moments, taking in the sight of you lying there so effortlessly beautiful, before finally speaking.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to hear those words coming from your mouth," he whispers and moves closer to you, placing one arm around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, feeling incredibly vulnerable by the fact that you were so physically close and you were allowing him to get even closer.

"Thanks for letting me do this," he added, indicating the embrace.

"It's not the first time we've watched the stars together, Buck..." You whisper back, resting your head on his while willing your heart to stop beating so fast.

Bucky smiles softly, feeling a warm sense of contentment wash over him as he wraps his arms around you, feeling incredibly grateful for this moment of intimacy between the two of you.

He can feel the gentle weight of your body against his, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. He listens to the sound of your breathing, feeling his heartbeat slow down as he takes comfort in your presence.

"Yeah, it's not the first time... But it feels different tonight." He whispers back, feeling a newfound confidence and boldness coursing through his veins.

He moves even closer to you, pressing his face against your neck and inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of your skin. "I've always... I've always wanted to hold you like this."

"I... I always wanted you to..." You whisper back hesitantly and bite your lip when he presses his face against your neck, almost scared to move, worried that if you do it'll ruin the moment.

Bucky feels a surge of pleasure course through his body as he hears your response, knowing that you too cherished these special moments with him.

When you don't say anything at his physical contact he continues to hold you tightly, feeling a deep sense of connection growing between you.

He presses his lips against your neck, gently kissing and nibbling on your skin, feeling a newfound desire burning within him that he had never experienced before.

He wants more than anything to take things further, to remove your clothing and explore every inch of your body with his hands and mouth, but he forces himself to remain patient and wait for your signal that you actually want something more intimate.

"You know... I've always been afraid to show you how much I really care about you," he whispers into your ear, his voice barely audible over the sound of the city below them.

"Steve thinks you love me..." You say quietly, hoping to god that your idiot brother is right for once in his life.

Bucky freezes a little, feeling a mixture of relief and surprise wash over him. He's surprised at your boldness but so relieved that the truth is finally out there.

But he also knows you well enough to know that if he wants you to truly believe that he loves you, then he has to act quickly to prove it to you and make sure that you never doubt his feelings again.

"Yeah... I do love you, Doll. More than anything else in this world. And I'm sorry that I didn't say it sooner... But I was afraid to lose you." He admits quietly, as he takes your face in his hands.

"You really mean that?" You ask quietly, a mix of hope and uncertainty clear in your voice.

"I do." He says without hesitation while he looks at your beautiful face turned towards his. "And I want to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I care about you."

The smile that comes to your face is so bright that it feels to Bucky like the sun suddenly came up in the middle of the night.

"I know you already gave me a birthday gift," He says, referring to the jacket you gave him this morning. "But can I ask you for one more?"

You're definitely curious about what he wants so you nod. "Sure, what is it?"

"Can you give me a birthday kiss?" He asks quietly while brushing a strand of hair aways from your face and behind your ear.

You blush a little and can't help but smile because he wants a birthday kiss from you, not Dot or any other girl, and you nod slowly as you start leaning in.

Bucky meets you halfway and when your lips touch it feels like fireworks, your stomach filling with butterflies while he brings you closer to him while deepening the kiss.

After a few minutes you both pull away for air, breathing heavily while looking at each other. "Wow." Is all he says after a moment.

You giggle and bite your lip. "Happy birthday, Bucky." You say softly and give him a kiss on the cheek before settling back against him, your head on his chest as you look up at the stars.

Bucky wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head and then relaxes while looking up too, more content than ever to finally have you in his arms.

[delicatebarness]

until i found you

Summary: After a date at the new exposition, your jealous ex decides to pay you a visit.

Warning: 40s Bucky & Pre Serum Steve. Sexual Content. Jealousy/Possessiveness. Mature Language.

Word Count: 1329

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

A/N: So, another one? Also, it's Friday somewhere... - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @mrsnikstan

The city hummed with excitement as the World Exposition of Tomorrow promised a brighter future amidst the shadows of war. City lights flickered, casting a magical glow over the bustling fairgrounds. You wandered through the crowds, hand in hand with your date, his laughter sent a deep pleasant hum to your ears as he shared a joke. 

The charm of your companion blended seamlessly with the exhilaration of the fair, and the night felt alive with possibility. His hand found its way to your waist, resting casually, and for a moment, you were swept away by the joyous chaos– dazzling lights, the futuristic exhibits, and the promise of better days to come. 

However, not far away, two pairs of eyes were fixated on you. Steve, your older brother, tried to focus on his own date, but his attention kept drifting your way. Frowning, he nudged his best friend, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. “Oh swell, she’s dating him again,” Steve muttered, barely able to hide his frustration. 

Snapping his attention to you, Bucky’s expression grew tense as he watched your date’s every move. Seeing you with another man, especially one he didn’t think much of, sparked a familiar unease. His blue eyes followed you intently, noting every touch, every laugh as his jaw tightened. 

Steve sighed beside him. “Why couldn’t you two just make it work?” 

Sensing eyes on you, you glanced around, locking eyes with Bucky. The bustling fair faded away, leaving only the intensity of his gaze. It was a look you knew well, protectiveness, concern, and a hint of possessiveness– something that had been between you since childhood, and something neither of you had ever moved on from.

Your on-and-off again relationship with Bucky– the laughter, the spats, silent understandings, and the love. The memories played like an old reel in your mind. 

Your date tugged gently at your hand, drawing your attention back to him. Smiling, his eyes twinkled under the myriad lights, but you struggled to focus. Bucky once again left his mark, stirring up emotions you had tried to bury. The man beside you spoke again, but his words were muffled and distant. 

Across the grounds, Bucky’s eyes never wavered from you– his thoughts consumed by you. The warmth of his date’s hand in his felt cold. 

“Come on, Buck, just go talk to her,” Steve urged, sensing his friend’s turmoil. “You know you want to,” 

Shaking his head slightly, Bucky’s jaw clenched. “I don’t want to make a scene,” he replied, though his eyes betrayed his resolve.

~

The apartment was quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside. Slipping into your room, you had finished changing into your nightgown when you heard a soft knock at your door. “Come in,” you called out, setting your jewelry down on your vanity. Your heart pounded as you glanced in the mirror, finding Bucky standing at the door through the reflection. His eyes were dark and intense. 

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly, stepping inside before you could answer.

You nodded, watching as he closed the door behind him. 

His hands clenched at his sides, taking a deep breath. “I can’t stand seeing you with him,” he admitted, his voice low. “It drives me crazy seeing you with someone else, Doll. It’s like a knife to the gut.” 

You barely noticed the distance between you closing, until you felt his fingers tracing up your arm. “It was only one date…” 

Pulling you closer, his grip tightened on your arm. “I don’t like it, not one bit. I hate seeing you with anyone else. It makes me… I just can’t stand it.” 

You leaned into his touch, the familiar warmth of his hand grounding you. “What about your date, huh?” 

Bucky’s thumb brushed along your lip, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “She’s not you, Doll. No one else ever could be.” 

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with anticipation. His lips found yours, deep and urgent, the kiss filled with years of longing and unspoken love. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as you melted into him. 

As the kiss intensified, he guided you towards the bed. Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, your hands trembling as you helped him undress. He slipped the nightgown from your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet as you stood before him, vulnerability and desire intertwining. 

His eyes roamed over you, his breath hitching as he took you in. “You’re mine,” he spoke, his voice a possessive whisper. You found yourself in a whirlwind of desire as his lips traced a path down your neck. His hands explored your body with a hunger that matched your own. 

You pushed him gently onto the bed, and with a flicker of urgency, you straddled him as his hands roamed boldly. His fingers traced the contours of your back, grazing over sensitive spots that made you gasp with pleasure. 

His touch ignited sparks along your skin as his lips trailed down your chest. Then, with practiced ease and confidence, he rolled you onto your back. You arched into him, aching for more of the friction that threatened to drive you wild. 

With a growl of need, he positioned himself above you, his gaze locking with yours. Welcoming him eagerly, your bodies melded together in a dance as old as time itself. Waves of pleasure coursed through your body as you felt the sensation of him filling you. 

He moved with a primary urgency, each thrust pushing you closer. You dug your nails into his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as you surrendered to the pleasure that enveloped you both. 

Your moans filled the air, mingling with his ragged breaths. He leaned down, finding your lips in a hungry kiss that threatened to steal your breath away. Your fingers trailed up into his hair, pulling him closer as you matched his urgency. The pleasure was exquisite, a sensation only he knew how to cause. 

But as pressure built up within you, Bucky’s hand moved swiftly to cover your mouth. His eyes locked with yours in a desperate plea for silence, a reminder of the need for discretion in the confines of your apartment. However, that only heightened the thrill, adding a layer of forbidden excitement to your shared passion.

Melting into him, your moans stifled against his hand, surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through your veins. And, you clung to each other as you rode the waves of ecstasy until they crashed over you in a tidal wave of release. Your bodies trembling, hearts racing as you basked in the moment. 

As you lay intertwined in the aftermath, your breathing slowly evened out. His hand fell from your mouth, tracing his fingers gently across your cheek. His eyes held adoration and reverence as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. 

~

The first light of dawn painted soft hues against your bedroom wall as you stirred in Bucky’s arms, his body warmth contrasting with the morning chill. Reluctantly, you both rose and dressed in comfortable silence. After a long, lingering kiss, he left your room, closing the door gently behind him. 

Just as he closed the door, another door opened, and Steve stepped out of his room, rubbing his eyes. Both men froze for a moment, their gazes locked in the quiet hallway. Steve’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of Bucky emerging from your room. His shirt rumpled slightly and his hair tousled. 

Without a word, Steve’s expression shifted to one of knowing acceptance, a silent acknowledgment passed between them. Bucky’s eyes filled with gratitude and resolve as he gave Steve a sheepish nod. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as Steve simply raised an eyebrow before turning toward the kitchen. 

The two men continued in companionable silence, unspoken words settling comfortably between them as freshly brewed coffee filled the air. 

[hawthorne-bias]

you: i slipped a little note into your bag to tell you how much i love you. steve: [checking his bag] this is a 10-page letter.

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 10: Chastity

Pre-Serum!Steve Rogers x Dark!Nun!Reader

Summary: What if you convinced Steve Rogers to never become thee Captain America and instead remain a virgin loser for your entertainment.

Warnings: 18+ smut, male chastity device, dom!reader, kissing, reader rides dildo, mutual orgasm, manipulation, some fluff and angst, body insecurities (steve)

You held his head against your bosom, stroking his hair. His arms are tight around your body yet respectful not to linger anywhere inappropriate, tears soaking through the material of your robe.

Steve hates being so vulnerable in front of anyone other than his best friend, Bucky. It’s already bad enough that’s ‘the little guy’ so everyone expects that of him. But somehow you were able to break down his walls. Maybe it’s because of the maternal nature you possess or that you hadn’t laughed at him when he’d told you that he has never been with a woman. Either way he’s found some comfort in you.

You tug on the hair at the back of his neck; bringing his tear-stained face back to your gentle, smiling one. He looks up at you with unshed tears that make his eyes spark from the dim spotlight within the confessional.

“Oh, Stevie,” You coo, stroking a thumb over his cheek. “You should know that there is always a place for you here in our church. And you don’t have to change anything about yourself in order to be happy. God made you in his image and he makes no mistakes.”

“Then, why? Why do I feel so wrong?” He sniffles, wanting to pull away from you despite the crammed booth having little space for either of you to part. Still, you press into him; his back against the wall. “M-maybe Project Rebirth is a sign from God. It could be good for me. I can finally be a hero.”

You take his delicate hands in yours, locking your fingers together and holding them in between your bodies. “You are wonderfully and fearfully made, Steven. That Project Rebirth you speak of is unnatural. A serum that makes people stronger? Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. Join our church. Stay with me.”

Your cinnamon breath tickles the surface of his lips as you part your arms slightly, leaning in closer, fingers still interlocked.

“But what about giving our country a fighting chance? What about duty? Saving lives?” He asks. “Doesn’t any of that matter?”

“Of course,” You say. “But that shouldn’t be for you to worry about. You can still save lives here. Maybe not in the conventional ways but it’ll be just as important.”

“And how about the way I look? I want to know what love is like. To have a woman I can call my own and marry her. I can’t have that if no woman has ever looked my way. I-I’ll never know the sweet bliss of…” Steve hopes to choose his words carefully, not wanting to offend a holy woman such as yourself. “Being intimate with a woman. My friend Bucky tells me all about it and I could only dream of it. He does a lot of things I can only dream of, in fact.“

“If strength and intimacy is what you seek, then I can show you a much more honorable and godly way of obtaining it without having to inject any questionable substances into your bloodstream.“

“What is it?” He asks, almost pleading, “I’ll do whatever it takes in order to find my purpose. I’ll be good.”

“Oh, I know you will, Steven,” You lap your tongue across his lips receiving a gasp from him. His lips, now parted, allow you to dip your tongue into his mouth, licking his tongue and teeth before parting ways. “Your virginity is your best asset.”

“I don’t understand.” A single tear streams down his cheek, feeling as if he’s at his wits end.

“Steven, I’m going to show you just how strong you can be, just as you are now, by playing to your strengths,” You explain. “Chastity. It’s strength in resilience. If you practice it long enough, you won’t feel the need to desire such trivial things like glory and sex. Desire is of the flesh and that’s ungodly. But I have faith in you, Steven. I know you’ll resist the urge to be enveloped in the inner walls of a woman ever in your life.”

“Ever?” He pouts.

“Ever,” You echo, breathing against his neck. “But you can still feel really good.”

“W-where do we begin?” He asks softly, body involuntarily arching when your thick thighs straddle his skinny leg.

“We’ll begin your first lesson now,” Your hands slip beneath his shirt, lightly scratching his happy trail. “Let’s get you to my room.”

You exit the confessional and Steve mourns the loss of your warmth against him. With your hand outstretched you wait for him to take it. Once he does, you lead him around the convent. At the door to your room, you scan around the area to assure there isn’t anyone around before you’re pulling him inside by the collar.

“Have a seat.” You purr and he obeys.

You rummage through your drawer, retrieving a male chastity cage with a dildo attachment and holding it up for him to see.

“Is that meant for me?” He asks, cowering a little.

“Yes, sweet boy, you’ll wear it and then you’ll get to fuck me with it on. You won’t ever actually get to be inside me but it’ll still feel really good.” You drop down on your knees at the edge of your bed, tugging his pants and underwear down.

He’s semi-hard, blushing when your eyes land on his cock.

“It’s so pretty, Steven. I wish I could taste you.” You admit, receiving a quiet mewl from him.

You take him in your hands hurriedly lock his member into the device. It’s a snug fit for him, uncomfortable as his penis had no room to swell. You kiss his thighs before crawling over him onto the bed and your mouth meets his in messy kisses. He’s sloppy because he is inexperienced at kissing and you’re sloppy because you truly desire him and have no patience to slow down.

You break away with a lingering suck of his tongue before you start removing clothing. His heart beats rapidly as he watches you. It’s not long before your bare breasts are exposed to him and all you’re left in is your black lace panties and matching garter and stockings.

“You’re breathtaking.” Steve gasps, wanting to reach a hand to touch you but he wanted your permission first. Reading his mind, you take one of his hands and bring it to cup your breast.

“It’s okay. You can touch every part of me,” You bring his hand to your wet core and his breath hitches. “Even right here, long as you don’t stick your fingers inside. Can’t have any form of penetration from any part of your body whatsoever.”

He nods, hooded eyes fluttering shut when you kiss him again mid-nod. Your hands rip open his shirt, the buttons skittering across the room. He’s officially naked, a blush painting his face red once he realizes this. His insecurities get the best of him as he tries to hide himself discreetly, pulling you down against him so you don’t check out his body. You pin his hands above his head and smile down at him.

“See? You’re perfect, Steven.” You say so warmly that it makes him tear up with joy. While one of your hands keeps his hands pinned, the other pulls your panties to the side as you sink down onto the small dildo. You groan, staring into his eyes as you take it inch by inch.

You build momentum and a soft ‘plap, plap, plap’ noise fills the air with every thrust inside you. Steve’s cock throbs as he watches your face contort with pleasure. It’s a delicious and agonizing feeling to see you get off but to not feel the reward of being inside you or having any release.

You curl a hand around his neck, squeezing lightly and he gurgles a whimper; the pleasure is like lightning through his body yet when it reaches his cock it builds and builds to no satisfying relief.

“Fuck, Steven,” You whine against his lips. “Wish it was your cock inside me instead. I’d want you to cum in me over and over.”

He can’t breathe. It’s torture. It’s paradise. Sweat clings to his forehead with the exertion from the intensity of the situation. “Please…fuck it’s so much.”

You hold his face in your hands, wiggling your tongue against his, “You’re doing so good for me, Steven. Taking your first lesson so well.”

He softly grazes his fingertips up and down your back, hoping the feather-touch would not only heighten your pleasure but increase his own sensitivity.

“What if we just forget about chastity,” You pants, grinding your hips down hard. “What if instead I take the real thing? You’ll finally get to know how tight, wet and warm I’d feel around your gorgeous cock.”

He so badly wanted to say yes but if he’s meant to prove his strength then he must decline. This was clearly a test.

“As much as I want to, I want you to be proud of me. So, I’ll have to say no.” Steve whimpers.

“You’re such a good boy,” You moan, kissing him deeply while you bounce hard against him until you’re screaming out your release. “Oh, Stevie, I love you!”

His eyes roll into the back of his head at your admission as he orgasms hard. It’s a new kind of feeling, one that is so foreign to him that holds onto you for support. Cum pools out of the device, sticky and clinging between your legs and spilling all over his stomach.

When you’re done using him—walls no longer flexing around the silicone toy—you lay beside him curling up against his side with your head resting on his bony chest.

“That was incredible.” He sighs out.

“You’re incredible,” You trace a finger along his stomach. “See how much fun you can have when you don’t let your desires weigh you down. You’ll be so strong in no time.”

“You really think so.” He asks with a dopey smile, showing off his biceps.

“Without a shadow of a doubt.” You smile wickedly.

[gremlin-girly]

Day 10: Fallen Through Ice

Pairing: 40s!Pre-serum!Steve Rogers x 40s!f!reader (for the use of dame)

Fandom: MCU

Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, themes/mentions of drowning, one heck of a meet cute

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied or reposted or put through an AI machine.

Summary: A day of skating on Central Park Lake takes a turn for the worst when the ice cracks, sending Steve below the surface.

Word count: 708

A/N: A very quick one! Not my best as I struggled with finding the right way of doing this drabble because I didn't want to drag it out. Enjoy! -Love, Grem x

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The crack of ice is louder than Steve expects. Thunderous roars from beneath the sheet of ice as he rushes forward to shove a small child out of the way of a harsh, jagged line. Then there's a snap as the ice gives way beneath him.

And the water is cold, so cold.

Steve's small body is wracked with white hot pain from the cold. His lungs burned with a need to cough, his asthma flaring with the sudden change in temperature and he had to fight it as he tried to swim to the surface. The heavy coat Bucky had insisted he wear dragged him downward.

Then it's black. Entirely black.

Fear settles in the pit of his stomach and then he's... being lifted? There's arms around his middle, and someone is definitely kicking at his shins occasionally as they pull him back up to the surface.

When he breaks the surface he takes a long gasping breath that causes a coughing fit. Bucky's blurry face comes into view as he helps to lift Steve out of the water muttering away about how he can't turn his back for one second.

Steve is still hacking up a lung on the ice when Bucky reaches behind Steve to pull Steve's rescuer from the icy depths. Vaguely aware he's gaining onlookers, Steve curls in on himself to shield himself from the embarassment.

"Hey! You alright?"

There's a hard tug on Steve’s shoulder, turning him onto his back and Steve's eyes widen as he looks up into the eyes of prettiest, yet soggiest, dame he'd ever seen. His heart thuds angrily, he pushes down a wave of coughing to let out a choked, "I'm good, thanks."

You sit back onto your haunches and sigh with relief. "I saw you save that kid then go under. I just... dived right in after you."

You give a nervous chuckle and Steve sits himself up onto his hands, his cheeks beginning to turn a sweet shade of glowing pink. Bucky glares between you both.

"You're both morons." He says folding his arms. "I had to grab you both."

Both you and Steve offer Bucky a sheepish grin and a quiet thank you and he sighs.

"Yeah, well, you made me look good in front of my date I guess so there's that." Bucky cracks a smile before turning to Steve. "Go home and change. Your ma would haunt me if I let you get pneumonia.... again."

Steve rolls his eyes and gets to his feet carefully before offering you a hand. You try not to pull too hard as you stand and give Steve a smile. The cool breeze makes the both of you shiver, your wet clothes clinging to your skin and sending a chill to your bones.

"And you," Bucky turns back to you. "Thanks for saving Stevie."

Before Bucky can add anything about walking you home, Steve beats him to it.

"How many blocks away are you?" Steve asks as you shuffle past Bucky with another small thanks.

"About five." You puff, fighting another shiver. "You?"

"Two blocks." Steve says, shucking off his heavy, soaked coat and placing it over your shoulders. "We could..." Steve clears his throat. "Stop at mine first and get you some dry clothes first?"

Bucky watches with an impressed smile as Steve acts the gentleman, but there's a slight worry in his eyes as he know how dames usually respond to Steve.

But you wrap Steve's coat around his shoulders as well, cocooning you both from the cold. Your heart had been skipping wildly, even more so when Steve had given you his coat despite also being soaked in this freezing weather. You couldn't resist a gentleman.

"Don't suppose you have any coffee you could give me too?" You ask playfully as you both begin to walk to Steve's apartment.

"I... um, yes." Steve doesn't know how to process his excitement or how his heart rate has spiked again.

He halts to cough hard almost doubling over but he feels your hand gently placed on the centre of his back. He looks up at you bleary eyed and you smile down softly at him.

"Take your time. I've got all the time in the world."