#steve rogers ficlet

[arathejedi394]

that meme of bucky with the twitter post saying "the winter soldier having flashbacks of gay sex and not knowing why"

“I think I’m gay,” Bucky announces abruptly.

Sam chokes on his beer. Bucky claps him on the back, looking pensively into the dark water. Sam gets a breath, then clears his throat several times before licking his lips.

“What makes you say that?” he asks casually.

“I remember having gay sex,” Bucky answers ponderously. “A lot.”

"A lot?" Sam repeats, now bewildered.

Bucky just nods slowly, his gaze distant. Sam blinks several times, wondering what the hell he's imagining.

“With who?” he demands, looking at him with eyebrows high on his forehead.

Bucky just frowns. “I don’t know. A couple of guys. A big one and a little one.”

Sam looks out at the water, too, mouthing under his breath about how fucking stupid this man can get. Then takes Bucky’s cigarette and drags on it. Bucky snatches it back.

“You’re not a super soldier,” he snaps. “No smoking, kid.”

“Sorry,” Sam replies. “I mean, about – About not remembering… Hm… Oof. That’s, uh, that’s rough, buddy.” He claps Bucky on the shoulder, glancing over his shoulder with a grimace for their friend, the one who was little but now is big and is now retired so he can paint large blue watercolors of some vague masculine figure over and over again, that friend. He faces the water again and blows out his breath. Idiots. Jesus Christ man.

Bucky sighs, wistful, then drags on the cigarette himself. The boat rocks behind them.

“Did I hear you say you remember having gay sex?” Steve calls from behind them.

Bucky glances over his shoulder at him. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “You know anything about that?”

Sam looks at Steve, raising his eyebrows. Steve’s lower lip wobbles for a second and then he just smiles.

“I’m sure you’ll remember,” he then says quietly.

Bucky nods, turning back. Sam drops his jaw at Steve, who just lowers his gaze and sits down on a bench, hands in his lap and head down. Like a kicked puppy. Sam blusters, half gesturing between the two of them, but Steve shoots him a glare and Bucky doesn't notice. Sam looks between the two of them for over a minute, just watching these two idiots standing five feet apart because they’re not gay.

“Okay,” Sam declares, “that’s it! I’ve had it up to HERE with the homoerotic tension on this boat!”

Bucky looks up, frowning. Steve jerks his head up, too, his eyes wide. Sam points with both hands at Steve, but looks at Bucky.

“He knows somethin’ about you being gay for sure!” he snaps. “Frankly, I think he knows more about it than you do! Double frankly! I know that for a mothafuckin' fact!”

Bucky opens his mouth, looking bewildered, then glances between Steve and Sam. “Huh?”

Sam slaps himself in the face with the hand not holding his beer. Bucky frowns at Steve. Steve blushes and looks towards the stern of the boat. Bucky suddenly gasps, jerking a hand up to point.

“I fucked you!” he shouts.

Steve blushes harder, bright red behind his beard, as he look down into his lap, then he nods, seeming speechless.

Sam smacks himself on the forehead again, making a face at their stupidity. Then Bucky shoves his cigarette back into his hand, and he storms right up to Steve and hauls him off the bench by the back of his shirt. Steve squeaks adorably for a man of his large size, but Bucky starts dragging him off the boat.

“Okay?” Sam calls after them as Steve stumbles to keep up with Bucky. “Bye, I guess?”

“Thanks!” Bucky shouts over his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Steve says.

“I’m fucking your face in that alley over there, sweetheart,” Bucky announces. "Then I'm coming all over your beard."

“I did not need to hear that!” Sam shouts back. “Didn’t need to hear that! I expect to be both of y’all’s best man at your wedding! And the officiant! And I’mma give both of y’all away, too!” He turns, then pivots, jabbing his finger in their direction. “And it better be a destination wedding, gay ass dumbasses! I wanna go to Bali!”

Steve waves his middle finger behind him as he skips, eagerly, along behind Bucky down the pier. Sam shakes his head, turns, and puffs on the cigarette again.

“Gay ass dumbasses,” he mutters, “one looks over, the other’s already looking away. My ass.”

[navybrat817]

Prompt for your Ficlet Friday, whenever you have time!

Steve Rogers + "grabbing the other’s hand in big crowds".

Thank you. 🩷

I love this, Stella! Hope you like it.

True North

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Word Count: Over 400

Warnings: Established relationship, slight anxiety and insecurities, fluff

Steve hadn’t expected the sidewalk to get crowded so quickly for the parade, but he should’ve anticipated it. That was one of the reasons why you insisted on getting there early. You picked out a good spot and he brought enough chairs for the gang to camp out. But instead of hanging out, he insisted on getting you a necklace from one of the vendors a block away and now he had to find his way back to you.

He tried to smile when a few heads turned his way. He still wasn’t used to standing out in the crowd. Being small and invisible for the longest time, he was able to blend in easily. No one cared enough to look for him, save Bucky. With his new body, it wasn’t so easy for him to hide now. And having spent most of his life being the smallest person in the room, he still felt like a stranger in his own skin.

Craning his head, his heart raced when he realized he wasn’t even halfway down the block. He could’ve pushed people out of the way, but he couldn’t be rude. Swallowing, he tried not to feel overwhelmed at the feel of bodies pressing against him, their conversations too loud in his ears. A few whispered his name. Some snapped his photo, like they had the right.

He wished he would’ve asked you to go with him. It was silly. You didn’t need to look out for him. You didn’t-

“Steve.”

He blinked when you grabbed his hand. He had your touch memorized, the way your hand fit perfectly in his. “Hey,” he whispered, the sound of the crowd fading away.

“Thought you got lost there for a second,” you said lightly, but your eyes conveyed that you sensed how much he needed you.

“Almost did,” he said, letting you lead him through the crowd, refusing to let you go. “But it was worth it to find you the perfect necklace.”

“Oh, yeah?” you smiled over your shoulder. “You know, you really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know, but I wanted to,” he smiled gently. “Thank you for finding me,” he said, his voice thick because he wasn’t just talking about today. And you knew that.

“You found me first, Steve,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’m just returning the favor.”

Later when he put the compass necklace around your neck, he’d explain that you were his true north. And if the two of you were ever separated for any reason, even in a crowd, he’d find his way back to you. Always.

Love and thanks for participating in Ficlet Friday! ❤️

[jobean12-blog]

That’s one way to get me out of bed hehehehe LOVE IT🤭😇😏❤️

Morning menace

alpha!Steve Rogers x omega female reader

warnings: none; unless we count early morning (basically night) rudeness

Author's Note: This is a short, silly thing inspired by my own "eagerness" to get up in the morning 😂 Shout out to the always amazing @buckets-and-trees, who often has to hear my grumpiness in the wee hours 😆

Grain of Truth Masterlist

Main Masterlist

There’s an annoying beeping sound that spears through the sweet, comfy clouds of slumber and you clench your eyelids shut harder, hoping that some bird of prey would swoop in and swallow that shrilling monster. 

Your pillow moves, adding to the growing annoyance as your subconsciousness tries the hardest to hold onto sleep. 

Finally, that irritating sound ceases, but your pillow continues to slip away. 

So you tighten your grip on it and move your leg further around the wide, hard breadth of it; clutching it both with your arm and your thighs. 

“Come on, babe,” a raspy, deeply masculine voice enters your sleep. 

The sound of it is very pleasant, making you hum in delight and snuggle into the warm pillow. Unfortunately, his words are far from what you want to hear.

“It’s time to get up.” 

“No.” Your reply comes instantly, your nose scrunching up in detestation. 

A low chuckle follows your refusal. Then an arm, which was cradling your back, moves along your spine. A big, strong hand gently grips the back of your neck; his thumb rubbing up and down. 

“I’m afraid it really is. We need to leave in an hour.” 

“No leaving. Staying. An’ sleepin’.” You grumble and though your eyes are still closed and your mind is keeping you halfway submerged in sleep, you recognize that the pillow you’re partially draped over is in fact your Alpha. 

To emphasize your stance on getting up, you roll your body fully on top of him. With a huff, you press your head under his chin and twine your limbs around his massive body. 

“I know you hate early mornings, Sweet Brat.” Steve laughs, palming your naked ass with his free hand. “But we’re about to go for vacation, if you remember. Two weeks away. And then you can sleep even till noon. But to get there, we agreed to leave early.” 

“I would never agree to such idiotic idea.” You protest, growing more annoyed as your sleep starts to truly fade away the longer you continue conversation with the very rude Alpha. 

Steve only snorts. Then attempts to move. To which you respond by clinging harder and giving a small, displeased whine. 

The way he instinctively gives a short purr to soothe you has your lips curving in a smile and your cheek pressing against his sternum. 

“Ten more minutes,” Steve sighs. “I’ll start a breakfast for us. But not a second longer, grumpy brat.”

You whine again, more petulantly this time, as Steve manages to gently roll away from under you. Your body sinks into the warm spot on the mattress that’s soaked with your mate’s scent. 

You instantly bury your nose into it, your body dropping back into a fully relaxed state, so eager to trott back into the dreamland. 

“What kind of vacation requires getting up at this ungodly hour? I don’t want a vacation like that.” You try to reach for the covers, but they seem to be too far away. You’d have to open your eyes to find them, but you really don’t want to. 

“I’d rather stay here. In bed. And rot.” You mumble into the sheets. “You go on stupid early vacation yourself.” 

“You’re worse than Bucky.” Steve gives an exasperated sigh. “And he’s really insufferable before 9AM.” 

Giving a little kick with your leg, you turn your face to the other side and reach for a pillow to cover your head with. In case your bossy Alpha decided to lift the blinds and scorch you with morning sun. 

Though you were pretty sure there was no sun yet on the horizon. There couldn’t be. It was too fucking early! It was basically still night.

“Then maybe go on this mid-night vacation yourself and send Bucky here to me. We’ll be grumpy together and sleep like normal people do.”  

You shriek aloud, your eyes opening instantly, when a brutal sting burns your asscheek. Then another one lands, on the other side of your butt. 

Before you get a chance to react to the spanking, Steve grips your ankles and pulls you across the mattress in one, swift move. Your legs dangle over the edge of the bed, feet kicking above the floor. Then strong hands are gripping your hips and you’re lifted into the air. 

Steve turns you in his arms, with the skill of a man who’s done that plenty of times, so you’re facing him. It’s body memory, or whatever cognitive reaction, to wrap your legs around his hips as he carries you. 

The light in the bathroom turns on, causing your eyes to squint in protest. With another huff, you hide your face in the crook of Steve’s neck. He really smells good in the morning. Damn  him! 

He eases you down, until your feet touch the tiled floor. He cups your chin and tilts your head up.

“You have fifteen minutes to get ready, Sweet Brat. And if you even try to sneak back into bed, I’ll make sure that sitting through the few hours drive is going to be a real pain in your cute ass.” 

You scowl at him, but either your sleepy, straight-out-of-bed look doesn’t help with the murderous effect, or your Alpha simply isn’t bothered by your non-verbal threats. 

Quite the opposite, he flashes you a bright smile. Then, still holding your chin in his hand, he seals a short, but rather intense kiss on your lips. 

You watch him leave, still glaring. And maybe - but only a tiny bit - ogling. 

“Next year I’m gonna opt for staycation,” you mutter under your breath.

[luna-rainbow]

Bucky’s metal arm has touch sensors. They’ve just never been calibrated properly. The soldier learned only what was important to him on the field, the cold hard metal of a gun and how much pressure to use when pulling the trigger.

Steve notices this, as he helps Bucky settle in to his new life. He sees Bucky touching the soft flannel bedsheets first with his right hand, then with his left hand, brows knitted in deep concentration.

Uncertainly, Steve asks if he doesn’t like it, if it is too warm or too soft—

“Soft,” Bucky picks up the word from Steve’s ramble. He lowers his head and looks at the pastel sheets between his fingers, and repeats. “Soft.”

The cotton tee, the woollen cardigan, the denim pants, the mesh sneakers, he gently rubs each textile between his fingers with both hands. He does the same when in the kitchen, running his fingers lightly over the coarse heads of a cauliflower, the pockmarked rind of an orange, the sharp stalks of rosemary, the glossy skin of a plum.

His vocabulary recovers more with time, and whenever Steve asks how it feels, he can give a few extra words — firm, smooth, hard, sharp, rough. On the occasions he says the word soft, his whole expression relaxes and all the lines soften, and Steve wishes he could swathe the man with everything soft and fluffy just to keep it there.

They sit down to watch TV after dinner. lt’s their ritual. A time when they sit together silently — when Bucky gets used to being in the same physical space, without feeling the pressure to make conversation. It seems silly but Steve has seen the difference it has made, from Bucky wedging himself into the other end of the couch, to now relaxing next to him, their shoulders occasionally brushing as they reach for the crackers on the table.

This has been a particularly long day, Steve having just returned from a 3 day mission where he barely caught a wink. About ten minutes into the soothing documentary about red pandas, he is fast asleep. He wakes to something brushing against his hand, light and tremulous. Then something a little cooler and a lot harder does the same, and he realises what it is.

Bucky snatches his hands back when Steve opens his eyes. He says guiltily, “Sorry.”

Steve reaches out and rests his palm over Bucky’s metal fingers. “How does it feel?”

Bucky searches his face warily, and then he relaxes. Steve feels a light tickle as the small metal plates whir quietly under his hand.

“Soft,” Bucky answers. After a moment, he adds, “Warm.”

Steve threads his fingers through the metal ones, and holds the hand close. After a little while, he feels the metal fingers curl slowly until they rest, ever so gently, against the back of his hand.

“Tingly,” Bucky suddenly says, out of nowhere.

Steve smiles and answers, “Same.” He points to his chest, “Here.”

He can see the concern and confusion as Bucky glances a few times at his ribs.

One day, Bucky will understand what that means. Steve looks down at their linked fingers and runs his thumb along the metal plates, drawing a slight shiver from the man beside him.

This is a good start.

[fizz-pop-thwip]

When Bucky hugged Steve for the first time since he got the serum, they were alone in a tent. They had just got back to the base camp after their miles long walk back from the hydra base and they were both exhausted.

Steve is situating himself around the very nice, fancy tent that he insisted on sharing and Bucky hasn't taken his eyes off him since he saw him from the table he was strapped onto. Steve. Little Steve. Steve who got sick every winter and who's asthma played up every summer. Steve who had been 5'4 and had remained as such since he was 14. Steve who got into too many fights and never won but not once for lack of passion.

Bucky has to say something, because he hasn't been saying anything since escaping the base and now he feels like he's about to boil over. "Steve"

The same big blue eyes he's always known greeted him and were quick to lace with concern. "You okay, Buck?"

And generally speaking no, Bucky was not okay, he'd been experimented on, he'd been taken by the enemy and strapped down to a goddamn table and he couldn't even remember half of what they did to him there.

For all Bucky knows he could drop dead at any moment but he isn't thinking about that, because he's thinking about how Steve is here, in front of him, all 6'2 of him. He's thinking about how the breath exiting his mouth doesn't follow with wheezing, or how he can take the full rib expanding breaths when he needs it without coughing until there are tears forcing themselves out of his eyes.

Bucky steps forward, his hand gently presses against the expanse of Steve's chest. He stops himself from gawking considering the fact you could park an eighteen wheeler on this thing, he even opens his mouth to say just that but then he feels Steve's heart beat, steady and pumping under his palm.

It's only slight considering the amount of muscle and thick bone in the way but he can feel it all the same and it's not stuttering and irregular. It's pumping blood, lots of blood wherever Steve needs it, constantly and in all the right places instead of spending most of its time in the lowest point of the body.

If Steve were to get sick this heart would help him get better instead of having to fight to keep itself working, and his new lungs might get congested but they wouldn't spasm every time he needed a breath of fresh air. Steve won't be laying in bed all winter sick and out of his mind with any and every illness that has always loved making his life a living hell.

Steve is healthy.

And suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Bucky clears his throat and blinks away any escaped liquid from his eyes, which are very pointedly looking towards his hand. Because if he looks up at Steve and sees those blue eyes all concerned, seeing right through him like they always do, he really will loose it.

"You're okay.." He mumbles mostly to himself.

It comes off as a statement more than anything and a choked out one at that but Steve knows, because he always knows what Bucky is trying to get at. He places his hand over Bucky's wrist and just holds him, his hand is steady and must be magical because Bucky grows calm at the touch.

"I'm okay."

Feeling himself falter at the affirmation, he leans in, arms wrapping around the waist he could once circle completely with one arm. But he almost backs out as quickly as he started it, the foreign body giving the wrong signals, like hugging a coworker or a distant relative you see once a decade.

But taking a deep breath to centre himself, Steve smelled like he always did, plus the scent of cheap soap hardly lingering, faded from the long day they both just had.

And when he ran his hands over his back he could feel the familiar humps of his spine and count them all the same. Even Steve's hands find the same spot on Bucky's back as they always used to, where his ribs end and his back start to dip in at the start of his waist.

Bucky can still reach the hair at the base of Steve's head and run his fingers through it like he used to see Steve's ma do when they were young.

Now Steve sighs into the hug and Bucky squeezes tighter since he knows he won't be doing any damage. They stay like that for a long time in their own personal world, the centre of their own solar system, everything else moving around them, floating within their orbit.

When they pull back, Bucky's hands linger on Steve's waist for longer then they should and when he looks up Steve's eyes are so full of admiration but his nose and eyebrows are scrunched up like he's got something to say.

Bucky takes his hands back to his sides. "what?"

"We aren't going to leave each other again, okay?" He says it so sure, like they aren't going to be in the heat of battle every other day but Bucky wants it just as bad as he does so he nods and smiles.

"You're stuck with me pal, I'm not going anywhere"

[sunnysideprincess]

Occasionally I'll have a stray thought and not know what to do with it...so here you go 🫴✨ alpha pre serum steve coming home to a lovely surprise

Tony tastes of something sweet.

Not like the cheap sugary kind.

But rather something slow and delicate, like caramel custard, with a side of blueberries.

The smell hits him when he first steps into the house and his eyes immediately roll up in his head.

He doesn't even realise what's happened until he hears Bucky's voice and Steve has only one hot second to do something about the wet patch in the front of his denim—only one hot second to duck into the powder room and change into another paint stained loose sweats.

Bucky—that damned bastard—still figures it out. He ushers Steve into the dining room, puffs out his chest and shows off the prettiest Omega Steve has ever laid eyes on.

The omega stands in the kitchen, cheeks flushed rosy red and eyes wide, wet with beaded tears. He's wearing Bucky's shirt—the tail of it resting delicately over his thighs where bruises, nice and tender mark his skin.

"This is Steve," Bucky announces. "Steve, Tony. My omega-"

Tony smiles, all devilish mischief and Bucky hastily corrects himself—"our omega".

[late-to-the-party-81]

Intrigue!

What’s Steve done? Why does Celia feel like this? What lengths will Steve go to, to get her back?

Gaaaahhhh!!!!

Steve Rogers Drabble (No Title)

Pairing: soft dark Steve Rogers x OFC Celia

Warnings: Some SMUT, slight choking, withholding orgasm (female), slight dark themes, slight dominance (maybe), I know there’s more I just don’t know the proper lingo for it.

Summary: Celia is fed up.

Word Count: 321

Authors Note: There will be follow up parts to this. Please do NOT copy, steal, or publish my work without permission!

She walked into his office. He was on his phone talking when he noticed her.

“I’ll call you back Buck.” Steve said. “What’s so important?”

“I’m leaving Steve. I can’t do this anymore.”

“What are you talking about? You can’t do what?” He stood and walked over to her. “Tread carefully sweetheart.”

Her heart hurt when he called her that.

“This. Us. It can’t happen again.”

He caressed her cheek down to her throat and wrapped his hand lightly around it. “Are you sure about that?”

She whimpered as he squeezed.

“Look at you. Already caving in for me.” He said moving his other hand down her body. “You wouldn’t want me to touch you? You wouldn’t want my cock deep inside your tight little pussy?”

His hand slipped under her dress and into her panties. Tears wanted to fall because she knew she couldn’t resist. As he rubbed her clit she gasped.

“Let go Bunny. You know you want too.”

“Oh god Steve.” She said breathless. She placed her hands on his shoulders for support.

She was so close letting go and then his hand disappeared.

“Steve…please…”

He smirked. “That’s the thing Bunny. Only good girls get to cum. You want to leave me Bunny? Why should I please you if you want to leave?”

She growled as she moved away from him. “You’re an asshole.”

He laughed. “Get out of my office Bunny. I’ll see you for dinner.”

She scoffed as she left his office. She grabbed her bag and went downstairs. She decided she was leaving. She placed the envelope in Peter’s hands.

“Make sure he gets that.” She told him.

“Yes ma’am.” Peter said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“It’s the only way.” She said. “Goodbye Peter.”

“Goodbye Celia.”

She walked out the front door and got in the Uber. She gave the driver the address and they took off without her looking back.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Delirious Decisions

AN: Thank you for tagging me @mercurial-chuckles in your Delirious Decisions. I’ve kept all the same prompts, but gone with some of my own pair ups. I’ve written a little something for each prompt, some as short as 200 words and some as long as around 900.

Some of my entries are little drabbles for some of my established pairings, but some are new and in fact three are set in Avengers Tower with a new reader insert who is an Avenger of currently unknown skills, nicknamed Pipsqueak by the team because of how short she is.

Ratings vary from G to E, but all are labelled. For some stories I haven’t specified the pairing at the start because I want the end reveal to be a surprise (but none of these stories include smut).

I hope you enjoy.

These are all un-beta’d and dividers are by @firefly-graphics and me.

Masterlist

Cuddle in a storm with 🛏️

Reader x Bucky Barnes. Rated T. Fluff and suggestive language. 230 words.

A gust of wind sent the raindrops hammering against the window, loud enough to startle you from your light doze. The arm around your shoulder tightened and a loving voice crooned in your ear. “It’s just the rain, Doll. Relax.”

You turned your head back into Bucky’s chest, nuzzling against his red henley. “‘M totally relaxed. How long’s i’ ‘posed to last?”

“Well into tomorrow. And we’re not supposed to go outside in it, unless we absolutely have to.”

Somehow you pressed your body even closer to the human furnace that was your boyfriend. “‘M not going anywhere.”

Bucky chuckled. “You’re not going to leave the couch? What are you going to do when I go to bed then?”

You let out a displeased grunt. “‘Kay. The couch or the bed.”

“Good,” he declared, decisively. “Because I would’ve been lonely all on my own.” Without warning he stood up, scooping you up as he did and you squeaked in shock.

“Bucky! Where are we going?”

“I want to go to bed,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But ‘m not tired!”

“I never mentioned sleep, Doll. There’s more things to do in bed than that, as you well know.” He grinned at you and you felt the heat rising up your neck. “Kiss me, sweetheart,” he continued. “Keep me safe from the storm.”

Accidentally send a spicy text to 😳

Reader (Pipsqueak) x ? Rated T. Suggestive themes. 400 words

“Clint!” You really wanted to screech, but part of you recognised you still needed to maintain a modicum of discretion. You came to a skidding halt next to the blonde archer and he took in your distressed state.

“What is it, Pip?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not that short,” you hissed. “And this is an emergency.”

With a raised brow, he hopped up onto the counter. “An emergency, huh? What sort of thing counts as an emergency in your world?”

You resisted the urge to bite out something scathing - that wouldn’t help, given the circumstances. “You know I’ve been seeing this guy, yeah?”

“Nathan, right?”

“Right. So things have been going… alright.” You couldn’t help but wring your hands.

“Only alright? I’m sure you deserve more than ‘alright’, kiddo.”

“Yeah, so that’s what I was trying to do - make it more than ‘alright’, by sending him a message to… you know… let him know…”

“Oh!” Clint’s eyebrows almost shot into his hairline. “You ‘sexted’ him, didn’t you. Didn’t know you had it in you, Pip. But what’s the emergency? Did your ‘freak’ scare him off? If so, he’s not worth it.”

“No… it’s that… Oh God, it’s so embarrassing.” You buried your head in your hands, trying to hide, before blurting out “Isentittothewrongperson.”

His eyes widened even further. You were worried they were going to jump out of their sockets. “Which wrong per- Oh. Oh!” In two seconds flat he’d gone from sharing your worry to falling sideways on the counter in hysterical laughter.

“Don’t laugh!” You smacked him on the thigh with the back of your hand. “What do I do?”

Suddenly a sultry voice sounded from the corridor outside the common room. 

“Kotenok! Where are you? I have some of those things you wanted to try.”

You squeaked and turned on your heel, shooting out the side door, Clint’s laughter still ringing in your ears.

A few moments later, Nat walked into the kitchen and settled on one of the bar stools next to Clint’s mostly horizontal body. “Are you gonna stop laughing?” she asked him. Clint drew in some ragged breaths and sat up, the evidence of his tears of amusement marking his face. “When you stop teasing her. She thinks you really thought the message was for you.”

Nat’s expression morphed into faux shock. “You mean it wasn’t?”

And they both burst out laughing again.

Get stuck in a "there’s only one-bed" scenario with Kiss and some 💋 🥵

Ari and his Angel. Rated M. Suggestive language and fluff. 400+ words

You looked at the bed, a little shocked and, if you were being honest, a little embarrassed. Yes you were a grown up, and did grown up things with other grown ups, but it felt weird that your parents were also aware — and accepting — of that. 

You turned to your mom who was standing in the doorway. “So, umm, are both Ari and I in here?” You side-eyed the queen-sized bed, which had been plenty big enough for you as a teen, but looked very small now when you considered both you and Ari fitting in it together.

“Well,” your mom replied with a hint of mischief in her eye, “unless you can magically create another spare room, or you’re willing to sleep on the sofa — because let’s face it, your boyfriend won’t fit on it — you are, indeed both in here. Just remember, there are other people in this house, and some things ought to stay private.”

Behind your mom you heard Ari cover a snort with a cough, but you couldn’t glare at him without her seeing, so you just smiled and considered the torture you’d be in for tonight.

—----

Ari’s lips kissed a trail across your shoulders, his nose nudging the thin straps of your pajama top to the side. His large body was curled up behind you, a tell-tale hardness poking at your ass.

“Ari, quit it.” You slapped at the arm wrapped around your waist, but both of you knew it was half-hearted. Nonetheless, he stopped his sensual exploration.

“You really mean that, Angel? You want me to lie here, next to you, and not touch you. You want me to torture us both?” God, you could almost hear the pout in his voice. 

“But you heard my mom. She was basically telling us that the walls are like paper. My parents knowing I have sex is bad enough, but them hearing it? I think I’d just die.”

The hand around your waist started to move, drawing light circles on your skin where your top had ridden up. “We’d just have to make sure you’re quiet, then.” He pressed his lips to your shoulder again, just once, leaving the ball in your court. He knew you needed him as much as he craved you. Several heartbeats of silence and then you were turning in his embrace and hooking your leg over his hip.

“I hope you’re ready to be covered in bruises from where I have to bite down to keep myself from crying out.”

He dipped his head and rubbed your noses together. “Angel, I’ll wear them with pride.”

Admire from behind (if you know what I mean) 🍑

There’s only one answer here. A little snippet of the Captain and his Brat. (I love you, then I hate you) Rated M. Mentions of corporal punishment in a D/S relationship. <300 words

Meetings were never your favourite thing - were they anybody’s? - but one thing that made it all worthwhile. Walking out after Steve. It would obviously have been better if he’d been wearing his tac suit, but his tan slacks did sterling service too, highlighting one of his best physical attributes. As he strolled down the corridor ahead of you, going over some of the points of the meeting with Rhodey, you decided to take in the view. God, your fingers itched to grab those two muscular globes and squeeze them. Give them a smack, or even sink your teeth into them. And then, if you did, what would Steve do to chastise you and put you in your place. You felt a rush of arousal pool in your core and you stumbled a bit as you walked. In front of you, you realised the exact moment Steve caught wind of your state, because there was a hitch in his own step and, without breaking his conversation, he glanced back over his shoulder at you and gave you a knowing look. You shivered at the heat contained within it.  

Steve and Rhodey came to a stop outside of the latter’s office, which gave you a chance to slip by them, but as you did, you couldn’t resist it. Careful to make sure no-one else saw, you gave Steve’s right buttock as strong a squeeze as your hand could manage. He let out a little cough as his only reaction, and you smiled to yourself as you continued past, wondering how your Captain would respond, in the name of keeping you in line…

Push down the stairs (Oh, boi😏) 🪜

Reader x Ransom (Yesterday’s Dream, Tomorrow’s Nightmare, Never-ending nightmare) Rated M. Prior kidnap, prior rape, basement wife, non-con collaring, violence. <500 words

All you had to do was wait for your moment. From the moment you’d been brought here, you knew that if you bided your time, then a way of escape would eventually present itself. You’d given up fighting days — weeks — ago. Ransom was going to do what he wanted, and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of breaking you over and over. Making him think that you were weak and resigned to your fate would work in your favour at some point. You had to hold on to that belief. The collar around your neck chaffed, but if your luck held, then it wouldn’t be long until you could discard the hated piece of leather. 

He had been fooled by your act once before, until he’d brought the other man — Ari — who’d seen right through your facade, but after that night you hoped that both men thought you were broken down. Your belief was bolstered by the fact that Ransom had started to let you out of the basement and into the house proper. It was always at night, when he’d sent his housekeeper and chef home, but it still allowed you to get a better idea of your surroundings. This evening he’d decided that he wanted to watch football on the frankly vulgar sized television while you cock-warmed him, first with your mouth and then with your cunt, until he tipped you forward onto the carpet and finished inside you. Now it was time for him to return you to your prison for the night.

You followed him, eyes downcast, as he led you back to the door. When he turned his back to you, so he could unlock the door, your breath caught in your throat, anticipating the right moment. You’d only have one chance. As the basement door was pulled wide, but before Ransom could step away from it, your arms shot out, all of your body weight put behind them. You shoved him. Right between the shoulder blades. The moments stretched into an eternity as you watched him wobble and hoped that it would work. His cry of surprise rent the air and his arms pinwheeled. One hand caught on the door frame, and without a moment’s hesitation you pushed him again, screaming your fury at him.

Ransom’s foot slipped and his balance faltered and in the next instant he was tumbling down, landing at the bottom with a sickening thud which morphed into an unnatural silence. You turned on your heel, running through the house towards the front door. There, on a side table, was a bowl containing car keys. You scooped them up and ran out of the front door. You clicked the remote, trying to identify which car they belonged to — there were several lined up under a carport. Lights flashed in the darkness and you ran towards them and your freedom.

Ruin in the best way possible 😈

I’d say ‘poor Joaquín’, but I don’t think he’s finding it too bad… (Ojos Asi) Rated E. Sexual Content, inc edging and mild bondage. 150+ words

“Dios! Mi sol!” You straddled Joaquín, your hips undulating as you rode him. Beneath you, your boyfriend’s arms strained against the leather cuffs binding his wrists to the headboard. How had you gotten so lucky to have a man like this? A man who looked so beautiful as you took him apart. After securing him, you’d teased his body with your fingers, lips and tongue, taking him into your mouth as he’d arched under your touch. You’d chuckled to yourself when he’d sworn out a litany of Spanish the second time you’d brought him to the edge, but refused to let him tumble over. However, you had promised him that the third time would be the charm. You held onto his thigh and rested your other hand on his chest as you moved, grinning down and taking in the view. Sweat sheened on his skin, his hair was delightfully mussed and his eyes almost black with desire. And you couldn’t wait to do it all again.

Invade the dreams of 💤

Reader x ?. Rated M. Pining, psychic powers, accidental mind invasion, implied smut. <900 words

It had started out as an accident. Your psychic powers were fairly new to you, having only started to manifest, sporadically, in your late teens. However, it hadn’t been more than a minor convenience until about six months back, when you found yourself accidently getting caught up inside other people’s heads. It had been frightening, for both you and the person concerned and you’d had a few close scrapes when some folk had followed up that fear with violence. Luckily for you it had only taken a few calls to SHIELD for someone to take you seriously, and you’d ended up here, in Avengers Tower, where you would have the space and help you needed to get your powers under control.

You’d mainly been working with Wanda and Loki — they were the ones best placed to help you — but you also spent time with all of the others. They were a nice bunch of people, all of them strong but damaged in their own ways. It made you feel as though you belonged. However, with one person in particular, that regard morphed into something else — a big fat crush.

Whenever you saw him, your breath caught in your throat and your heart started to beat that little bit faster. He was so charming. So strong and self-assured. Whenever you were alone you couldn’t help but think about him, wondering how it would feel to be held in his strong arms. To be kissed by his plush lips that always seemed to wear a smile. It therefore wasn’t a surprise to you when you started to dream about him.

Night after night, your subconscious made him the focus of your fantasies. Not all of them were x-rated, but a lot were, and you’d wake in sweat, an ache between your legs. How were you supposed to look at him in the light of day, with all these sordid thoughts spinning in your mind? And when you realised he seemed to be avoiding you, you couldn’t work out if that made it all better or worse. Yes, you didn’t have to see the sparkling blue of his eyes or the way sweat sheened on his muscles when he walked past after spending time in the gym, but a lack of contact during the day seemed to make your mind yearn for him more in the night. Your mentors noticed that you were withdrawn and made gentle enquiries, but how could you tell them the thoughts you were having?

A pounding on your door jerked you out of sleep — out of the latest erotic dream. You wiped your hand down your face before staggering to your feet. It couldn’t have been some massive emergency — FRIDAY would have notified you if it was — but you wondered who could want you at three twenty-seven am on a Wednesday morning.

You pulled the door open with more force than you meant, only to stop as you saw him there. Bare chested, breathing heavily, blonde hair all sleep-mussed and an unignorable tent in his pants. 

Thor.

As soon as he saw you he appeared to change his mind, making to step away without saying a word, until you grasped his wrist in your own small hand.

“Wait! What are you doing here? Why did you wake me?” How were you being so brave? You wanted to hide, to quake in your slippers, but the ache within you seemed to be pulling you forward. Onward.

Immediately he crowded through your door, kicking it shut behind him and cupping your face in his hands.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked, his voice almost cracking from suppressed emotion.

“Doing what?” you replied, confused.

“Invading my dreams, little one. It’s maddening. I think that I have you in my arms and then I wake to find it was just a fantasy. I yearn for you, night after night. I am distracted by it. I need it to either be real or for it to stop. Do you understand? I can’t—”

Your jaw dropped open and your head spun. Had you been meeting Thor night after night in the dream-plane. Differing emotions clashed within you. Guilt at having invaded his mind in such a way, but also hope, because from what he was saying he wanted the reality as much as you did.

“I—” you started suddenly unsure how to answer. How did you tell a literal god that you burned for them? That you wanted them more than could be reasoned?

Thor let out a dejected sigh, apparently taking your silence for rejection. For the second time he made to move away and you were spurred out of your stupor and into action. You threw yourself forward, lurching up onto your toes to throw your arms around his neck and press your lips against his. You couldn’t tell him what you were thinking, but you could show him.

For a heartbeat he didn’t respond, but then his arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed you up against the wall of your room. His lips moved over yours, before his tongue demanded entry. You moaned into his mouth and bucked your hips against him, your dream induced ardour flaring back into life and enabling you to whisper out your need.

“Make it real. Please.” 

Fake a relationship with for drama 🎭

Reader x ? Rated T. Shenanigans. <500 words

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping with him,” Wanda hissed in your ear as you leant against the bar and watched the other Avengers circulating around the ballroom, shaking down the great and good for more donations to Peppers current charity. 

“What’s not to believe,” you responded with a coy smile, not removing your gaze from the object of Wanda’s surprised outrage. “He’s handsome, he’s amusing, he’s got the skills.”

“He’s a murderer!” Wanda’s voice was less of a hiss now, and a few of the people near-by turned at her outburst. It was hard to hold back a grin. 

“Wanda, half the people in this room could be given that same label, depending on your outlook. And it’s not like he was in his right frame of mind.” Sensibly, your friend didn’t respond to that. The pair of you stood in silence a little longer until you downed the last of your drink and firmly placed the glass down. Straightening your spine you strode across the room, coming up behind him and placing your hand on his shoulder, and revelling in the feel of his velvet jacket against your palm.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Three heads turned in your direction, eyes of blue, brown and green. “Would you mind if I stole this one away? I have a hankering for a turn around the dance-floor, and this one is rather nimble on his feet.” Without waiting for a response, you looped your arm through his and drew him away. As you made your way to the space in front of the band, you could feel the incredulous stares of Steve and Tony behind you.

“Darling,” your companion whispered in your ear, “I believe we’re making a scene.” 

It was true, from the corner of your eye you could see people beginning to notice the pair of you. Your left hand went to his shoulder as his right rested on your waist, and your other hands joined together.

“They’re probably wondering if you’re going to corrupt me, or whether I’m going to reform you.” Suredly, Loki began to lead you around in time to the music.

He chuckled, low and silky. “I think it’s entirely possible for both to occur. However, what I can’t understand is how all of the others think you’re this meek and mild goody two-shoes. You’re living for this drama as much as I.” He dipped you, and it was difficult to suppress a full-blown belly laugh. “Minx,” he grinned at you. “How long until we can unsubtly leave and have people think we’re up to no good.”

“After this song, I would think.” You winked at him and he rolled his eyes with all the drama this little show deserved. 

“Careful, little one. I might start to think you really mean all of this.”

You pondered his words and wondered to yourself if that would actually be a bad thing at all….

Team up with for a heist 🕶️

Reader (Pipsqueak) & Clint. Rated G. Hi-jinx, Tower fic, Avengers as family, fluff, Shenanigans. <700 words.

You crept along the hallway behind your partner in crime, excited, but also a little scared. Not that there would be any real, horrific consequences if you got caught. This was all in the name of friendly mischief after all. Still…

You tapped Clint on the shoulder and he turned to face you, questioningly.

“Do you think we’ll get caught?” you sighed. He had his hearing aids in, but signing was far more stealthy when you were trying to sneak up on enhanced folk.

“Not if you stick to the plan. I’ll run interference and you grab the treasure.”

You nodded in agreement, and continued forward. When you reached the open door to the common room, you stopped again, waiting outside as Clint straightened up and strolled in, as if he had no cares in the world.

“Hey fellas!”

Okay, you thought from outside, no Nat or Wanda in there. Good to know.

“Hey, Barton.” The deep voice of Bucky answered, and you knew that if he was there, then…

“How’s it going, Clint?” … Steve was there as well. The two were joined at the hip and it was sickeningly sweet. However, outside of Nat, they were going to be the hardest to sneak past. You just had to trust that Clint could distract them.

“Well,” you heard him say, “it’s a funny story…” That was your queue. The plan was that he would start some long, rambling story that had no real conclusion to it while you snuck in the room and carefully grabbed your prize. Looking around the door frame you could see your heist partner and the muscled backs of two super-soldiers, whose body language still gave off an air of interest. With all the stealth you could muster, you tiptoed into the common room, thankful for the carpet on the floor that muffled your steps. However, you did need to get into the kitchenette, which had a tiled floor. 

Keeping low, you scurried across the open space and ducked down behind the counter. Clint was still droning on about his friend’s cousin’s son who’d found a one-eyed dog cowering behind a dumpster, and when he did an impression of said dog, letting out a mournful howl, you carefully opened the cupboard in front of you. There was your prize! You wanted to clap your hands in glee, but that would have to wait until later. 

It was a moment’s work to pull the cloth bag from your back pocket and you waited for Clint’s next sound-effect to grab what you came here to find. You heard Bucky sigh, loudly and unsubtly, and you waited with baited breath, hoping that Clint could hook him back into the story. The sudden sound of Clint trying to be a bomb seemed to work so you decided to do a grab and dash. Once you rounded the corner, back into the corridor, you sped up into a sprint, before jumping up to grab the vent-duct access door and scrabbling up into your and Clint’s not-so-hidden highway.

You crawled along until you got to the junction that was your current ‘nest’. A soft thunk and a snuffling noise let you know that your charge had woken up.

“Hey, boy.” You reached out and scratched the dirty yellow dog on the top of his head. A few minutes later, Clint appeared by your side, grinning.

“The secret to any lie is to mix in a bit of the truth,” he announced as he reached into the bag beside you and opened the bag of artisan jerky. He pulled out three pieces, passing one to you, shoving another into his mouth and holding the other one out in front of the dog.

“Here you go, Lucky. Some of Bucky and Steve’s personal stash. Full of protein and low on additives.” The animal quickly scoffed it down and started to look around for another piece. The whole bag was empty within a matter of minutes, which was about the same time the three of you heard wails of anguish echoing up into the metal vents.

“Clint! Pip! Where’s my goddamn jerky?”

Friend-zone for life 🛑

Reader (Pipsqueak) & Peter Parker. Rate T. Angst, Unrequited love, friendship, feels. Approx 650 words

“Oh, Peter.” You sighed and gave him a sad smile. The young avenger stood in front of you, his dark hair tamed within an inch of his life with gel, wearing a dress shirt and slacks and holding a slowly wilting bunch of flowers in his hand. It was obvious that he’d heard you griping about your lacklustre love-life and how frustrating it was to be single in the lead up to Valentine’s day, because here he was, standing at your door with the most hopeful look on his face and you were about to break his heart.

“Please hear me out,” he garbled. “I know I’m a bit younger than you, but they say that age is just a number, and it’s not that big of an age gap, and like I’m in my prime and so are you, you know, for umm…” he trailed off as he turned bright pink.

You held back a second sigh — it wouldn’t help — and stepped back from your door to allow him to enter. It wouldn’t do to have this conversation out in the corridor. “Come in. Sit down.”

Peter scurried over to your couch and sat down on the edge of it, his hands holding the bouquet in a death grip. You took a careful seat on the single armchair opposite. “Look, Peter. I’m not going to say I’m not flattered — you’re a good looking young man and you have a lot to commend you — but I’m not what you’re looking for and you’re not what I’m looking for.”

“Oh.” His head dropped and you felt like the scum of the earth. He reminded you of a kicked puppy. “I just thought…”

“I know you did. And let me tell you, when I was your age there is no way I would have approached someone I had a crush on, especially if they were older than me.”

“You’re only nine years older,” he started to argue, but you cut him off with a raised hand.

“Yes, and when you’re my age, nine years older doesn’t mean that much. However, when you’re your age, nine years is a lot. But it’s not even that. I don’t want you thinking you can wait a few years and try again. I don’t want to upset you — I never would, you mean too much to me — but I’ve seen you grow up. I’ve known you since you were fifteen. I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re my friend — my honorary little brother. I’m never going to be able to love you the way you want and the way you deserve.”

Peter seemed to slump even further, making him look even smaller and even younger. And then you heard the sniff.

“This was stupid. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” He suddenly stood up and pressed the heel of his palm to his eye. You turned your head away, trying to give him a semblance of privacy to get himself under control. 

“I’m sorry, too. I hope we can still be friends.”

“Yeah. Friends.” There was a petulant note in his voice, but you couldn’t be mad at him. His emotions were currently in charge. “You can keep the flowers. Or bin them. Whatever.” He dropped them on your coffee table and stalked over to the door, leaving your apartment and letting it bang shut behind him.

Now you let out that sigh, cradling your head in your hands as the emotional anguish washed over you. You peered at the flowers, a few of them now hanging limply on snapped stems.

“FRIDAY,” you called out. “Can you ask Tony to go and find Peter? I think he could do with a friend right now.”

“Sure,” the AI responded. “And would you like me to ask Mr Barton to come to you?”

“Yeah. That would be nice.”

Adopt a pet with 🐾

For this I’ve picked M’Baku and his Sabi-Star ([River Deep] Mountain High). Rated G. Fluff. Approx 350 words.

You pressed yourself to M’Baku’s side, both awed and wary at what was in front of you.

“When I said I wanted a pet to keep me company, I was thinking about something a little more ‘lap’ friendly. Or at least manoeuvrable.”

Your lover laughed beside you, the sound rumbling in his chest as much as it rumbled through the air. “Yes, but here in Wakanda, we don’t do anything by halves. And these animals are well trained and extremely loyal. Better than any dog.”

You looked at him pointedly, still not convinced.

“Ah, Sabi. Come,” he cajoled.  “We must get closer and let them know you. Maybe pet one of the babies?”

You transferred your gaze from him to one of the babies in question. You did have to admit that they were pretty cute, especially when they ran and their ears flapped around. Giving a small nod of assent, you carefully paced forward, concentrating on these animals that were almost entirely unknown to you - outside of textbooks and the odd zoo visit at least.

M’Baku held out his hand in front of him, and you copied his action, moving cautiously, and the baby Rhinoceros huffed at the pair of you, seemingly disappointed that neither of you held some kind of treat. It moved closer, and you held your breath as it snuffled at your robes, still hoping that you hadn’t arrived empty handed. 

Slowly, you reached out your hand and scratched the youngster behind one of its leathery ears and a giggle escaped you. Of all the things you’d experienced here in Wakanda, this was the most surreal. Suddenly, one of the adult rhino’s let out a bellow and the calf’s ears pricked up before it turned on its heels and trotted back over to the rest of the herd.

Behind you, W’Kabi sniggered. “That one is curious, unomdla. He will make a great War Rhino when he is grown. He is not frightened of one thing.”

“Yes,” M’Baku agreed. “Akọni.”

You watched the rhino calf frolic in the grass with the other youngsters, and felt yourself smile as your heart melted.

“Akọni.”

Take on a late-night drive with 🚗

Reader x Lee Bodecker. Rated E. Blowjob, unsafe driving, future sexy time discussed. Approx 250 words.

“Fuck, darlin’! That mouth on you.” The car lurched to the side, before coming back under control.

You pulled off Lee’s cock with a pop and smiled up at him. “Eye’s on the road, Sheriff. You don’t wanna get pulled over for dangerous driving.” You continued to jack him in your spit slicked hand. “You just get us to the look-out safely, and if you manage not to come, then maybe I’ll let you add a little cream to my peach pie.” You gave him a theatrical wink and then resumed your task, licking and slurping all over his shaft before widening your lips over his fat tip. 

You hadn’t planned on giving Lee road-head on the way out to ‘your spot’, but you’d been feeling some kinda way all day, and just couldn’t wait a moment longer to get your hands on him. You loved the way his soft flesh filled your hands. How the weight of him on top of you, spent and sated, made you feel safe and relaxed. And you knew, that even if he did blow in your mouth he wouldn’t leave you unsatisfied — he was good with his mouth and hands and he could keep you warm with those until he recovered. Now that you thought about it, that was feeling like a better idea. You hummed and felt him twitch, then slid your hand down to massage his balls.

It turns out that going for a late-night drive could be fun…

Let them fight your battles (while you swoon) 🛡️

This is definitely Nick Fowler and his spoiled brat (Ice Sculpture, Satin and Lace for my lover). Rated M. Violence, Suggestive language. Approx 450 words.

“Come on, darling. You look like you wanna have some fun.”

You reared back and wrinkled your nose as the guy who’d been pestering you all evening, and been getting subsequently more and more drunk, lurched back into your personal space.

“I do, which is why I came here tonight. With my friends. And why I kept telling you ‘no’. Now take the hint and go away.” This man had been the only blot on your night out with friends, and now he had followed the group of you out of the club. Of course he still didn’t engage the last few brain cells he had left, and his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

“Frigid bitch.”

Instead of being outraged, you rolled your eyes. Now, you could deal with this yourself but it would be far more interesting to watch—

A third hand appeared, gripping your assailant the way he was gripping you, except that this third hand squeezed a lot harder. The man let go of you with a cry and was wrenched away from you with a large amount of force. He staggered, his balance severely impaired, but he wasn’t allowed to fall. Because Nick wasn’t done with him yet.

The drunkard didn’t really know what was going on when the punch landed on the side of his face. His head snapped to the side, but in contrast Nick looked totally unruffled, albeit very angry. God he was magnificent. You pulled your lower lip between your teeth in anticipation, barely noticing the discomfort of your friends at the violence unfolding. Or maybe you just didn’t care.

A second punch followed the first and this time Nick let the man fall, but only so he could follow it up with a violent kick to the ribs, and a stamp to his outstretched hand. He hadn’t even said a word.

Satisfied that the drunken scum wasn’t getting up anytime soon, Nick turned and walked toward you, carelessly wiping away the blood from his knuckles with the handkerchief from his pocket. When he reached you, he cradled your cheek in his palm and you relaxed into it.

“Are you alright, dragostea mea?” His voice was full of concern.

“I’m fine, Nicky. Just need you to take me home.”

“Yes, you need to rest after such a shock.”

You looked up at him, a mix of incredulity and condescension. “No, Nicky, I need you to bend me over and rail me until I cry.”

“Well, who would I be if I denied a lady her wish?”

With a chuckle, you linked your arm through his and let him lead you over to where his car was parked, totally oblivious to the expressions of shock behind you.

Flirt shamelessly with 🌶️

Reader x Tony. Rated M. Sexual Banter, Innuendo, HR nightmare conversations. 550 words.

“You wanted to see me?” You walked into Tony’s office and closed the door behind you. Not because you wanted privacy, per se, but more to stop anyone else overhearing your banter and reporting the pair of you to HR.

Your boss, and friend, looked up from his desk with a big grin on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I always want to see you, Bun-bun.”

You grinned back as you walked closer and perched yourself up on the antique mahogany. “I bet you say that to all the girls, Tone.”

Tony clasped his hand theatrically to his chest. “You wound me, Bunny. As if I would restrict my attention to just your sex. Think of all the disappointed fellas.”

A chuckle bubbled up your throat, but you only indulged it for a moment. You were here for work after all. “So what can I do you for, my Liege?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere… but yes, actual adulting.” Tony rolled his eyes and you resisted the urge to smirk — he was so dramatic. “We — and by ‘we’ I mean ‘you’ — need to chase up Cyber-research on their report into the latest AI automaton, Prosthetics need to feedback on, well, the feedback issues and I need a Non-fat, almond milk, Venti Caramel Frappucino.”

Your left eyebrow rose up into your hairline. “One, what did your last slave die of? And two, I thought you only drank black coffee?”

Tony lent across the desk, getting closer to you as if he had some kind of secret to reveal. “In reverse order, Pepper tells me I ought to have a more varied diet and if you, sweet Rabbit, were my slave, I would definitely have you doing far more interesting, and stimulating things, than chasing reports and picking up coffee. Alas, you are merely my PA. Although I do have an opening for a slave position.”

“Just the one position? You disappoint me, boss. I’d expect you to be far more versatile.”

He shrugged with a facade of nonchalance. “I can be versatile, just ask — actually, no. Don’t ask them. It didn’t end well. Anyway, chop-chop. The quicker you leave, the sooner you come back with my coffee and I can continue to convince you of the benefits of being my personal servant as opposed to my personal assistant.”

You pushed yourself off the desk and smoothed down your skirt. “It’s a good thing I can take all of this in the manner in which it’s meant, Tony. Anyone else would have you watching a disappointed Cap video about sexual harassment.” 

At your comment, Tony pulled a disgusted face and you giggled as you walked towards the door. You took hold of the knob, turned it and were about to make your exit when Tony decided that he had, of course, to have the last word. “If there’s ever anything else you want to take—” he waggled his eyebrows, “— I have privacy glass in this office.” 

You clicked your tongue, flipped him your middle finger and went back to your job, with a shake of your head. Not everyone could handle Tony, but you had to say it made your days that bit more interesting. And who knew, maybe, one day, you’d take him up on his offer.

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[fohatic]

(manip by me, original poster by art chantry)

welp there's a (short!) fic now 😏

for the "kink: condoms are fun!" square of my @cap-ironman stony bingo round 2 card, 1.5k, rated E:

Like so many 21st-century notions that most modern folks took for granted, getting Steve Rogers onboard with the idea of condoms for gay sex was yet another concept that required some getting used to. As ever, Tony was more than willing to help him adjust to it -- was particularly eager, in fact, to demonstrate it for him. 

So he took Steve’s hesitant objections in stride. Though he conceded that STDs weren't actually an issue between them, Tony still felt obligated to get Steve up-to-date on one of the primary functions of using protection. He didn’t blame the poor guy for assuming that “VD” was only something that men contracted from women, given how the sex-ed propaganda of Steve’s time pointedly ignored the existence of homosexuals at every turn (yes, Tony had become quite the WWII-era culture buff ever since he and Steve got together). “Rubbers,” ergo, were only used to prevent pregnancy and war effort-undermining cooties from ‘loose women,’ as far as Steve was concerned.

He hadn’t yet learned about the AIDS epidemic. He hadn’t learned anything at all, really, about homosexuality, aside from what little he’d gleaned from his limited exposure to different cultures and social norms during his stint as a soldier. Just getting him to come out of his internalized-homophobic shell even a little bit after Tony had finally figured out that the tension between them stemmed from a sex thing rather than the other kind of dick-versus-asshole thing was a huge challenge all on its own; one which Tony had only persevered through because he was already way too far-gone on the guy by then to consider giving up. 

But now— after way too much dithering and denial and a gradually-dawning acceptance of the earth-shattering truth of the matter— they were finally fucking each other. Enthusiastically, and often. Tony’s patience had won out big time, and his rewards just kept on coming. And coming. And coming.

Turns out, Steve has a refractory period that’s basically non-existent. One of the many benefits of being serum-enhanced. Truly, Tony has no complaints on that score, considering his own notoriously rabid sex drive. Match made in heaven, in all honesty. It would seem that Steve is intent on making up for lost time, and Tony is only too happy to oblige him at every opportunity—

—which is where the condom thing comes in. Tony doesn’t mind that they’re fucking like rabbits now. It’s great! Amazing! Best thing that’s ever happened to him, really! But honestly— it can get kinda messy, given how Steve seems determined to fuck on every conceivable surface he can think of -- and often during moments that might not be entirely convenient, such as in the immediate aftermath of a mission; be that during touchdown at SHIELD headquarters when he and Tony are still suited up, or even on the freshly-vacated Quinjet on a number of occasions... -- occasions which their teammates definitely weren’t as oblivious to as Steve had been quick to assume in his lust-clouded fever (Tony had seen Nat’s knowing look after Steve had asserted his captain’s voice to tell him, “Stark: hang back a moment. There’s something I need to discuss with you in private.”) He was so disastrously conspicuous sometimes, but Tony wasn't bothered by it. He just found it ridiculously charming. 

So Tony’s started carrying condoms around with him at all times now, knowing that Steve’s delightfully unhinged libido could strike at any moment. It's his privilege to always be ready for him. 

The first time Tony fished one of these out of his pocket and pressed it against Steve’s big, warm chest during a heated make-out session in the locker room, Steve frowned down at the little packet with the most adorably confused expression Tony had ever seen on a full-grown human. 

“...A rubber?”

“Uh huh,” Tony had breathed out, eagerly rolling his hips against the massive thigh still shoved between his legs. 

“What for?”

It was actually really funny, just how nonplussed his face looked in that moment. Tony bit back his reaction to laugh, though, knowing how sensitive Steve could be when he thought Tony was laughing at him. 

“For sex,” Tony grinned, deliberately pressing his hard-on against the larger man and feeling a little giddy with how much he wanted exactly that, pronto. “What else?”

“We’re both fellas, though,” Steve needlessly pointed out, getting that deep furrow between his brows as a particularly splotchy flush spread over his face -- Tony knew by now that these together were more of an indication of embarrassment than arousal. Uh oh. 

It was sometimes a bit of a tightrope walk, maintaining a modern homosexual relationship with a man as complicated as Steve Rogers. Tony was still learning how to navigate his changeable moods and specific triggers, but it was a task he was surprised to find himself more than willing to put up with. It was actually kind of thrilling, the way he was always keeping Tony on his toes.

So that first, clumsy attempt in the locker room hadn’t convinced Steve that condoms were a convenient means of mitigating the messier aspects of assfucking, which in retrospect was Tony’s bad: Steve wasn’t wrong when he'd pointed out that the showers were right there.

Then later that week, when Tony tried again by attempting to argue that condoms were actually “fun,” Steve had gotten a bit petulant when he'd mistakenly jumped to the very erroneous conclusion that Tony didn’t actually like getting pumped full of an unholy amount of hot supersoldier jizz on the regular. On the contrary, it was something he often enjoyed with a zeal that bordered on some kind of perversion… Only, there was a time and place for indulging in what basically amounted to a serious cum-inflation kink, which—in his modest opinion—was best enjoyed in the comfort of an actual bedroom. 

Later, ensconced in the privacy of said bedroom, he explained this to Steve. In so much detail. He made sure to be very clear about what he liked and when/where he liked it, ensuring that there would be no doubt as to how sincerely he meant it by encouraging Steve to properly fill him up right there on his oversized bed. Then—just because Steve seemed to really appreciate these sorts of practical demonstrations—Tony made it very clear what occurred afterwards, illustrating this by strutting naked around the bedroom and letting Steve’s jizz drip down between his legs while he continued to elaborate on the pros and cons of letting Steve put him in such a state while out in public. He definitely had Steve’s rapt attention, this time.

Still, he didn’t fully sell his argument until the following weekend, when they’d been out together at that gala all night in their well-tailored formalwear, making eyes at each other in between all the endless schmoozing and sipping from champagne flutes and munching on canapes. 

Steve found a little secluded balcony that wasn’t in use, because of course he did. Say what you will about him being a late bloomer; there was no denying that the guy had quite the aptitude for arranging semi-covert assignations at a moment’s notice. 

He wasn’t wearing his utility belt, though, which meant that he didn’t have his handy dandy lube tube that he’d taken to carrying around these days. So when Tony caught him trying to spit on his fingers after getting a hand down Tony's pants and squeezing Tony’s ass in a signal he’d come to recognize as Steve’s signature “I wanna fuck you right now” move, he intercepted him just in time to demonstrate the magic of 21st-century lubricated condoms.

Getting to bend Tony over the railing like that and have at him at the drop of his $3000 pants with no prep required—then coming profusely into Tony’s grateful ass without spilling a single drop of superspunk on either of their very nice garments—was something of an eye-opening experience for Steve Rogers. 

He could admit, afterwards— as they righted their clothing and kissed like they’d been waiting all night to get their mouths on each other in order to finally breathe properly— that Tony might’ve actually had a point about the “rubbers.” 

“They’re fun, aren’t they?” Tony smirked as he smoothed his hands down the fine weave of Steve’s black dinner jacket, continually enamored with the way that all that broadness narrowed down to such a grabbable little waist. “...Anytime, anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, looking at Tony with a fondness that couldn’t possibly have just been about the whole condom thing. Sometimes when Steve looked at him like that, it felt like his insides were melting; like Steve could reduce him to literal goo with just a look. Quite the superpower, that one. 

Steve’s eyes did that funny thing where they grew impossibly warmer as he reached to fix Tony’s hair with gentle fingers, telling him, “I think I’m coming around to the idea.”

♡

[muensterfucker]

No pretty girl had ever arisen any feelings akin to the sheer elation he’d felt when Bucky had crowded him up against the tiled showers in the boys’ locker room of Fort Hamilton High School. When Steve’d had a towel ‘round his waist, and a new, purpling bruise blooming around one eye. When Bucky had leant in close, and whispered in Steve’s left ear, his good one, can’t make it easy on me, can you, Rogers? I’ll always worry ‘bout you, won’t I? When Steve had shoved Bucky back, hands on his chest, a little indignant and a little aroused. When the arousal had predictably won out, and Steve had risked it all, pulling Bucky close by his cheeks and smashing their mouths together. When Bucky had kissed him back. No pretty girl could come close.

[arathejedi394]

tiny crack fic

"Your mother's name was Sarah," Barnes croaks. "You used to wear newspapers in your shoes."

"Okay," Steve whispers.

"Hold up!" Sam cuts in. "He knows your mom's name and that you used to wear newspapers in your shoes? And that's enough? Everybody knows those things!"

"He was my punk," Barnes then adds. "I was his wolf."

"Bucky!" Steve gasps, shocked for some reason.

"Huh?" Sam says.

"What?" Barnes asks of Steve. "It don't mean the same thing now as it used to!"

"You can't just say that!" Steve insists.

"What?" Sam pushes.

"Nothing," Steve insists.

"Used to mean whore," Barnes says.

"Bucky!" Steve gasps again.

"What?" Barnes answers.

"What," Sam responds. He blinks several times. "What."

"Whore," Barnes confirms. "A queer boy for rent, yannow."

"RENT?" Sam bursts out. "What the hell! What's a wolf then!"

"Used to be a punk's pimp," Barnes adds.

Sam gawks at Steve. Steve is blushing very hard.

"Had to gag you when I made love to you, too," Barnes adds. "You'd scream your pretty lungs out if you could."

"Okay, that's enough," Sam decides with a wave of his hand. "You shut up."

"Don't be homophobic," Barnes scolds.

"I'm getting a divorce," Steve sighs.

"You can't divorce me, I'm legally dead," Barnes answers.

"Huh?" Sam whispers.

"I'll divorce you if I want," Steve counters.

"You -- you can't be legally married," Sam says.

"Only sorta," Bucky says. "Dressed him up in a wedding gown and a veil back in 1935, used fake papers, hitched him up good."

Sam leaves.

[navybrat817]

Sweet Navy! ❤️

For Ficlet Friday, I would love to see something with Eternal Brand! Stucky? 🥺❤️

Like maybe smutty prompt #1 “let me kiss it better”? 🥺😌

And if you’re looking for anything more specific, maybe one of the guys wore her out - like barely functioning, drooling into the sheets and mumbling incoherently - while the other was out running errands or something 😌 And then when he comes back, he wants in on the fun and promises to kiss it her pussy all better 🥺😱😌

If this doesn’t strike your fancy, please feel free to ignore it ❤️

You know I adore our tattoo artists! Hope you enjoy this ficlet.

Lucid

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Tattoo Artist!Steve Rogers

Word Count: Over 300

Warnings: Smut, oral sex (f. receiving), talk of safe word

Steve heard your worn-out cries as soon as he walked in the door but took his time setting his keys down and slipping his shoes off. He followed the noise to the bedroom and watched the scene in front of him with a small smile. Your face was wet with tears, your hands tied above your head, your entire body trembling as Bucky feasted on your delicious cunt. The blonde licked his lips and wished he had his mouth wrapped around one of your hard nipples. The view of Bucky's perfect backside was a sight, too.

“Wore her out already?” he asked, making Bucky stop and look over his shoulder with a smirk, shine around his lips. “I didn't think I was gone for that long.”

“You were gone for hours,” Bucky corrected him, spreading your legs wider. “And I couldn't help myself. It's fun wearing our Blossom out.”

“He's a bastard,” you whined, your eyes dazed as he ran a finger along her slit.

“Yeah, I'm a bastard,” Bucky chuckled. Steve didn't deny that. “But she practically fucked herself on my tongue and my cock even with her hands tied, so what was I supposed to do?”

Steve swore under his breath, wishing he was there to witness that. “You check in?” he asked, looking between both of you as he stepped closer.

Your head lolled to the side. “He did. Still green,” you promised. They always checked in. “But he's still a bastard,” you mumbled.

Both men chuckled at that. “Poor Blossom,” he cooed, leaning down to kiss your lips. “Let me kiss it better.”

The brunette moved out of the way so the blonde could take his place. “Yeah, let him kiss it better and I'll let you taste yourself.”

A tear slid down your cheek, but you managed a smile. “You're both bastards.”

But they were your bastards, and you loved them so.

Love and thanks for participating in Ficlet Friday! ❤️

[1heartfanfics]

If you're still taking requests, I love how you write Steve and Bucky. Could I get Steve with an upset stomach that wakes him up with soft protective Bucky? You are amazing!

The clock reads 4:02 when Steve wakes up. He's still half asleep and isn't really sure why he's woken up. So he closes his eyes to hopefully get a few more hours before he needs to be up.

He rolls over onto his stomach to try and get comfortable, but quickly realizes what woke him up in the first place. His stomach groans in protest to the pressure being put on it, feeling full and tight. Steve rolls back onto his side, bringing a hand up to rest on his stomach. It's bloated out against the waistband of his boxers. He presses a hand into his abdomen, feeling full of air and hoping to relieve some pressure, but instead it only makes him feel vaguely nauseous.

Stifling a groan to avoid waking Bucky up, he pushes himself up to sit, leaning back against the wall with a protective hand resting over his upset stomach. He rubs his hand gently back and forth, hoping to sooth the churning.

"Stevie?" Bucky's voice rings out a moment later, voice deep with sleep.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Steve sighs.

"You didn't. What's wrong?" Bucky asks, forcing himself awake. He moves to sit up next to Steve.

"I'm fine Buck, go back to sleep," Steve shakes his head, waving him off.

"No, you're not. Just talk to me," Bucky presses. Steve doesn't have to answer though, because as Bucky wakes up more he notices Steve's hand resting on his stomach and the way his lips are pressed tightly together. "Stomach bothering you?" he asks, although he already knows the answer.

Steve sighs, shrugs. No use lying about it now, he supposes. "Yeah, woke me up," he shrugs again.

"You feeling queasy?" Bucky asks, even though he knows the answer to that too.

"Kinda," Steve admits, noticeably keeping his answers short.

"Well c'mere then doll," Bucky says, patting the space between his legs.

Steve stiffly scoots himself over to rest in between Bucky's legs, leaned back against his chest. Bucky wraps his arm around Steve's waist to rest a hand on his stomach, wincing as he feels how bloated he is.

"Buck-" Steve starts to protest.

"Shh, let me," Bucky cuts him off, starting to rub gentle circles over Steve's belly with his warm hand.

Steve goes quiet, sinking further into Bucky's embrace. Buck had always had magic hands. His stomach was starting to calm slightly already.

"Feeling any better?" Bucky asks a few minutes later.

"Hmm, yeah some," Steve hums, slowly being lulled back to sleep.

"Go back to sleep darling, I got ya," Bucky says softly, pressing a kiss into Steve's hair. So Steve lets himself drift back to sleep in Bucky's arms, feeling warm and loved.

[luna-rainbow]

Do you think the Winter Soldier ever stood by the window of the jets bringing him back to Siberia and watched the Northern Lights weave across the starry skies, casting their ethereal colours over snowy peaks that had always been such grim shades of grey, white and black?

Do you think he’d turn to his side, wanting to show it to someone, someone who liked pretty lights and colours and pigments, who could tell him if the ribbons of light were scarlet, crimson or carmine?

Do you think he’d glance around the faces in the jet and frown, not finding who he was looking for? And then he would wonder who he was looking for. Did they exist or did he dream them up in his long cold sleeps?

He’d turn back to watch the dancing lights, ephemeral, intangible, just like the snatches of broken images of a blond head and a metal shield and a gloved hand, always just out of his reach.

What was his name?

—

Source: (1) (2)

[krirebr]

Imaginary Fic Game Masterlist

Here are all the little ficlets I did for the Imaginary Fic Title game. The challenge was

Send me a character/pairing and a title to get five lines of an imaginary fic.

I got fifteen awesome prompts! They're linked below by character.

😥 Angst 🥵 Smut

Andy Barber

Fool's Gold 😥

Making Him Feel Jealous

Toe the Line (Guys and Dolls!Andy)

Curtis Everett

Fourth Time's the Charm

Lookin' Expensive on My Arm

Short 'n' Sweet

Turning Tables (LBaL!Curtis x Bambi) 🥵

Jake Jensen

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Ransom Drysdale

Born to be Alive 😥

Stranger in Paradise

Pleasant Surprise (More Than This!Ransom)

Steve Rogers

Dance the Night Away

Danger, Here I Come!

Make Old Things New 😥

Need to Know 🥵

[sunnysideprincess]

Gonna start cross-posting my stocking soon(?), until then

🫴✨ cry

.

Here's when Steve realises—Tony Stark is in love with him. It's when Tony risks his own standing with the government—risks the million employees associated with his name—to come after Steve, just to admit he was wrong. It's in Siberia, with the haunting of Maria's screams hanging between them—when Tony looks at him and asks ", did you know". It's when Steve has his shield raised high and Tony's eyes are bright with a resigned sort of fear.

It hits him when he's sitting on the jet, Bucky snoozing on the sick bed and T'Challa alerting his people and Steve is wearing the armor Tony had carefully, painstakingly designed for him—"Tony Stark has been in love with him for a long time".

Here's when Tony realises—Steve Rogers is in love with him. It's on Vormir, when his fingers are clawing in the dirt towards Tony—his body fighting with all its might against the pull of nanites. It's when Steve's got dirt on his face, tears pouring down his cheeks and Tony thinks ", what a tragedy". It's when the wind cries louder than Steve—his name echoing in the otherwise silent cliff and Tony finds hilarity in that this is the second person Steve has lost to a fall from great height. It hits him when his bones break, the force of impact dislodging his soul from his body and he's still hearing the raw, broken screams of a distant love—"Steve Rogers has been in love with him for a long time".

Here's when they find each other—in the afterlife, Valhalla as Heimdall says. A warrior's due. Steve has scars running down his left side, his face a canvas of constellations as he traces the fractures on Tony's skin. To Steve, Tony is the most beautiful sight in the land of gods and ancient beings. And to Tony, Steve is the pull of gravity, the sun keeping him steady in his orbit.

It hits them both—this is it, this is where they get to keep their love. Not in the living, but surely in death.