#stevebucky ficlet

[gay-jewish-bucky]

Bucky, standing at the island counter in the kitchen, his long hair is wrapped neatly in a tichel and an apron is tied around his waist.

The late afternoon sun is streaming in through the large window and painting everything a soft gold, the Magen David necklace hanging around his neck–the one Steve gave him–sparkling brilliantly when the light hits it.

He is kneading and portioning out dough to make fresh loaves of challah, swaying unconsciously to the familiar music coming from the antique record player. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as his hands work expertly and a small, easy smile is gracing his flour-smudged face.

Alpine is underfoot, as always, purring happily as she winds her fluffy, white body around his colourfully socked feet.

Steve is sitting across from him, watching with a look of reverence and adoration. Occasionally glancing down at the sketchbook in front of him, trying to perfectly capture his husband in this moment: beautiful, untouched by the pain that was once his constant companion, totally in his element and so wonderfully alive.

Steve thinking in this moment, as he often does, that Bucky might be right when he says that miracles, like G-d, can be found within the seemingly mundane.

#marvel #mcu #bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #jewish bucky #jewish bucky barnes #jewish!bucky #jewish!bucky barnes #stevebucky #stucky #stucky ficlet #ficlet #Assorted Jewish Writings - Marriage/Family/Home

[otpcutie]

All In

Summary (Stucky, E, 10.4k): Bucky makes his Daddy Steve (the President) jealous. Steve is clueless as to why.

Contains: President Steve, journalist Bucky, secret relationship, D/s, Daddy Steve, brat Bucky, age difference, jealousy, Bucky is a little shit (more on AO3)

⭐️Part 1 of The President's Boy⭐️

Preview below:

The White House hallways parted for Steve as he walked down them, two of his security team following behind at a distance.

He moved with determination, radiating an easy confidence that unlike many of those surrounding him was entirely warranted. He was the most powerful man in the country and while those who’d been in his place previously had floundered or failed, Steve was thriving.

He was built for that kind of duty and responsibility. Steve was born to be President.

But what nobody knew was that there was someone who’d been by Steve’s side for a while now, supporting him and easing the weight on his shoulders. He’d helped him to be the best leader he could be.

♥︎ Continue on AO3 ♥︎ My Masterlist ♥︎

#stucky #Stevebucky #stucky fic #Steve x bucky #stucky moodboard #otpcutie #otpcutie fics #otpcutie moodboards #ficlets #hotbuckysummer2023 #series: the president's boy

[metalbvcky]

Lazy Evenings, a Bloom!Verse moodboard + drabble

"Is that my sweater?" "No," Bucky says with a smile so wide, it hurts his cheeks. He tips his champagne glass at the thin leather around Steve's waist. "Is that my belt?" Steve leans against the archway and smirks, arms crossed. "I don't know. You tell me." Bucky props his feet on the table in response to his boyfriend's teasing. The sun warms his skin. Lazy evenings like today are nice. Steve crosses the short distance between them, brows softened, blue eyes shining with love. Their lips slot together in a gentle kiss. "It looks good on you." Bucky smiles.

Bucky Barnes Bingo | U4 - [image of Bucky/Sebastian's profile] @buckybarnesbingo Stucky Bingo | G4 - Sharing Clothes @stuckybingo BBE Build a Bucky Bingo | December Prompt - Social Media @buckybarnesevents

#stucky #stucky au #stucky ficlet #stucky fanfic #stevebucky #bloom!verse #writing tag #bucky barnes bingo #stucky bingo #bucky barnes events #build a bucky bingo 2023

[sparkagrace]

stucky & number 16

Hi anon! Thanks for asking. #16 is Toxic by Britney Spears and I had a lot of fun with this one!

tags: Winter Soldier, identity porn, post-TWS, idk what this is. rating: teen

Taste of your lips, I’m on a ride You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under With a taste of a poison paradise I’m addicted to you Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

Steve knows he shouldn’t be doing this. 

Steve knows that he’ll get in a lot of trouble for it. Maybe court martialled. Maybe charged with treason. 

It might be treason.

All he knows is that he’s currently pressed up against the wall and kissing the Winter Soldier. 

Okay, it’s treason.

Steve can’t find it in him enough to care. 

Not when the Soldier’s lips are pressing against his so urgently like he wants to devour him. As if Steve — Captain America himself — is his next target and this is his mission. 

Well, if the Soldier’s mission was to get Steve at his most vulnerable, he’s done it. Steve is barefoot and standing out on his balcony at Stark Tower, high above the city clad in gray flannel pajama pants and a threadbare white t-shirt, and he feels like he’s on fire. 

He must be because he should be shivering out in the early December air, yet his entire being is thrumming with heat and desire for the figure caging him in. 

Steve isn’t entirely sure how it even started. They had last seen each other three weeks ago in Dallas when Steve had been in his pursuit but lost him somewhere in a warehouse. Ignoring the rest of his team, Steve disconnected his comms to look through the warehouse on his own and suddenly found himself lying on his back with the Soldier looming over him. Steve’s hands were free so he could have defended himself or used the proximity to try and capture the Soldier (or at the very least uncover his identity), but instead the Soldier had narrowed his eyes as if he recognized something, pressed his lips roughly against Steve’s, and then cursed before retreating. 

Steve was too stunned to chase after him.

He hadn’t told anybody. What was he supposed to say? 

Oh, I had a chance to get the Winter Soldier but instead we just stared at each other for a while and he kissed me.

For three weeks Steve had thought about the moment and what he could have done differently. 

(Not should, because he should have done what Captain America was supposed to do. What he wanted to do was what Steve Rogers wanted to do. And those had been things he couldn’t really write down in his strategy plans.)

“Who are you?” Steve wonders aloud on the balcony, not even asking how the Soldier found him or got past the security. The lips he’s been enjoying suddenly still and Steve whines at the loss of contact when the Soldier pulls away. 

“I don’t know,” comes the reply. The Soldier’s voice is rough but there’s an edge of vulnerability under it. 

“Why are you here?” Steve presses. He curls his toes as he begins to feel the cool tile underneath his feet for the first time. 

“Why are you?” The Soldier challenges, his eyebrow quirked up as if he’s not really expecting an answer. Steve stares dumbly at the ocean gray eyes that look like they have lived an entire century. 

When Steve can’t say anything, the Soldier presses his lips to Steve’s once more and then he’s gone before Steve can even ask him to stay. 

Steve stands out in the cold, staring out at the city from his empty balcony, until the last vestiges of heat leave his lips.

#stevebucky #steve x bucky #winter soldier #ficlet #stucky fic #my fic #ask games #anon asks

[voylitscope]

Ficlet: Following the Outline of Your Face

Following the Outline of Your Face

Steve/Bucky | 1,000 words | T | Canon/Post-Canon (Not IW/EG compliant)

Their vacation cabin has a window seat between the kitchen and the living room. The space is recessed enough to almost be an alcove, and light comes through the glass panels in a way that makes Steve pause his exploration of the rooms.

"Good drawing light," Bucky comments, leaning back against the couch and looking at Steve knowingly. Steve bites the inside of his cheek.

"Yeah. Looks like it might be," Steve says, watching the way sunlight hits the cushions of the window seat and the hardwood of the floor.

"Planning to get some sketching done, Stevie?" Bucky asks, eyes on Steve's face.

"I'd like to," Steve says. He shrugs a shoulder and turns to face Bucky. "Guess we'll see."

"You know, that last time you came down to see me in Wakanda? I think you told me every day you were gonna draw. But I don't think I saw you pick up a pencil," Bucky says. He says it so that it mostly sounds like a joke, but also like could be a question if Steve wants it to be.

"I didn't," Steve agrees, shaking his head. "I haven't really been — It's not that I don't want to. Lately, though. Recently. I haven't gotten much done."

"Recently is an interesting word at our very unusual age," Bucky says, raising his eyebrows. His tone is still light, but the way his eyes are fixed on Steve feels unnervingly serious.

"You're not wrong," Steve admits. He laughs in a way he wishes didn't sound bitter. "I think you probably saw the last thing I finished. I haven't even been doing it all that much —"

"Recently," Bucky finishes when Steve trails off, nodding at him. Steve nods back. "Well, no time like a vacation, right?"

"Can't hurt," Steve says. Bucky grins at him. He pushes himself up and puts one hand on each of Steve's arms. Then he maneuvers Steve and guides him to sit on the window seat.

It makes Steve more than a little dizzy.

"Maybe I can even help," Bucky says, letting go of Steve's arms and then using his metal hand to push on one of Steve's biceps gently. "Look, you can sit there and draw, and I'll come bug you about shit. That way you can yell at me about it, and it'll be like old times. Get you in the mood."

("C'mon, Buck, I'm gonna lose the light," Steve says. He grumbles as Bucky's shadow falls over his work.

"I'm trying to tell you something here," Bucky says, waving a hand at him. "Are you sayin' you don't wanna hear about my day? That's rude, Steve."

Steve looks up and narrows his eyes before reaching a hand out and putting it on Bucky's waist so he can push him out of the good light. Bucky laughs when he does, and he makes one of those faces he sometimes does. It's just a quick little thing, but it's also a familiar thing — It's a face that he sometimes makes when Steve touches him in certain ways or says certain things. It's an expression that'll come and go in an instant, and that later—

Later, when he's alone, in selfish and private moments, Steve will lie to himself about it. Later, Steve will think about that expression of Bucky's, and he'll pretend there's a chance it looks pleased or even flustered.

Now, in the kitchen, Steve scowls, because he's trying to stay annoyed. He doesn't want to stare too long, or get caught up in Bucky's laughter and up laughing, too.

"Tell me about it from over there," Steve mutters, dropping his hand. "Told you not to stand in the light a hundred times."

"And I told you that the light in here is different depending on when I get home, or if it's cloudy, or what time of year it is," Bucky says, still laughing. "But I'm so very sorry for standing in my own kitchen."

"So sorry to make you move over a whole foot," Steve returns, then he looks up at Bucky. He finally gives in a little, and laughs, too. "Okay, what did you want to tell me?"

"Now he wants to hear," Bucky says, shaking his head, but then grinning and launching his story.)

"I never yelled at you," Steve protests half-heartedly, laughing. "I grumbled at you. That's very different."

"Whatever you say," Bucky says. His eyes are brighter than Steve has seen them in a very long time. "It could work though. I don't know what I've got to bother you with here, but I'll figure it out," Bucky says. He pauses for a second and looks deviously thoughtful before poking Steve's arm again. He uses an over-the-top mock enthusiastic tone when he continues. "Steve, I just gotta tell you right now about this bird in the backyard. Steve, you have to hear about this book I'm reading. It's real important, Steve — How's that? Annoying enough? Think it'll help?"

Bucky actually is in Steve's light now. He's glowing with it. It makes him look real, alive, and happy.

He looks stunning.

Breathtaking.

And Steve wants —

Steve laughs and shakes his head.

"Don't know, but I know you being here will help," Steve says because it's true. It's always true.

"Oh yeah?" Bucky says. His smile looks softer, but not any less happy. "Glad to help. With art, or — "

Bucky's words trail off, and he keeps his gaze focused on Steve. Steve nods.

"Yeah, I think this trip was a great idea," Steve says, smiling back. "Gonna be good for us both."

"You might be right about that," Bucky says. His eyes stay locked on Steve's, and Steve stares right back. Steve lets himself have the lingering moment until his pulse gets quick enough he's worried Bucky's enhanced senses will pick it up.

"Come on, there's a whole porch we haven't seen," Steve says. He slides his hands onto his knees and stands up.

"Lead the way," Bucky says, finally breaking eye contact.

#stucky fic #stucky fanfic #steve/bucky #stucky #ficlet #exactly 1000 words #my fic #my writing #SteveBucky

[derekhalesbian]

i wrote a stucky fic!! well, i wrote it years ago, but i'm posting it now. have fun

#stucky #stevebucky #steve #bucky #mcu #marvel #kitty needs to chill #my fic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #captain america #winter soldier #idk man it's a ficlet abt steve being angsty abt bucky dying what do u want from me #heads up it is only available to logged in users

[bucksfiles]

A Very Stucky Halloween

Hello again, is anyone out there?🥺 *waving from the corner* I've been so busy with work these last few months that any attempts of writing just stop abruptly. I just want to check in just to show that I haven't disappeared to a deserted island or something😅

Anyway, this is just me writing a quick Halloween fic for the boys. Enjoy!😉

“Steve, please put this on.”

“No.” Steve quickly rejects, crossing both arms in front of his chest.

“It’s only for a few hours.” Bucky tries to argue, with pleading eyes fully on display.

Steve only raises his left eyebrow.

“Steven Grant…”

“No! Fuck you, you do not pull my full name like that.”

“…Rogers.” Bucky finishes it anyway. “Work with me and put this outfit on.”

Steve’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out from their sockets.

“Well, you put it on then. Since you like it so much.”

“I can’t. This is in your size.” Bucky says, shaking the to-be-Steve’s Halloween costume.

“IT’S A F*CKING BEDSHEET, BUCKY! What do you mean it’s on my size?” Steve is now flailing his arms like crazy, pointing aggressively at the white sheet that Bucky is currently holding.

“Oh, come on. It’s perfect for you, you’re gonna be the most jacked-up boo ghost ever.”

“Why do I have to be a boo ghost and you get to be a vampire?”

“I’ve got the teeth for it.” Bucky says quickly, which is definitely false since Steve has spent enough time exploring the insides of Bucky’s mouth and teeth.

And no, Bucky’s teeth are not sharp enough to resemble a vampire.

“Now come on, the kids are gonna be here any minute now. Becca’s kids are also gonna be trick-or-treating here as well. So move it.” Bucky finally says, throwing the white sheet at Steve.

Steve is resisting a giant urge to stomp his foot like a child so he narrows his eyes at Bucky instead.

“Fine, I’ll put this on for one hour.”

“Sure, pal. One hour.” Bucky is fully grinning now, satisfied with his own effort. “Also, please take your shirt off to make it more realistic. Cause… y’know, ghosts don’t wear clothes.”

“EAT SHIT, BARNES!” Steve yells one last as he enters the bathroom to change.

If any of you want to read my fics, I'm steeeve on AO3. See y'all there✌🏻

#mcu fanfiction #stevebucky #stucky au #bucky x steve #stucky fanfic #stucky #steve x bucky #stucky fic #ficlet

[film-in-my-soul]

D, stucky!

-> Scent Kink (non A/B/O, non werewolves), Masturbation <-

D is for Dirty Secret

It's wrong. Steve knows it's wrong. Even if it weren't Bucky's shirt held between his hands, a man's shirt, there's no mistaking the wrongness of bringing the fabric up to his nose and breathing in deep.

Steve's eyes flutter closed at the first inhale, a shiver of lust making his stomach clench, half from arousal, half from the shame he'll never entirely brush off. Still, despite knowing that, he can't stop himself, and he hasn't really tried to since the third time he'd used the excuse of having the time and energy to do laundry so he could get his hands on something of Bucky's.

Like a ritual, Steve runs through the reasons why he shouldn't. He ignores that it grows shorter every time he kneels at the foot of Bucky's bed, and when he's done, Steve eases his conscience with the reasons it's not that bad after all.

First, it's not like the shirt is clean, and even if Steve were to get it messy, he is going to clean up after. Bucky won't know the difference; he'll probably even muss up Steve's hair and call him a good little housewife for cleaning up while he's at work, anticipating the elbow Steve will jab him with. It's a trade-off, all things considered, a bit of payment for doing the work Bucky always likes to complain about. And really, if it stops Steve's resolve from breaking, something that feels closer and closer as the winter months draw nearer and Bucky insists on Steve taking his better coat when he leaves for sign painting in the early hours, then Steve can't find it in his heart to give more than a token protest against the need that lives inside him.

Justified in only the loosest sense, Steve swallows thickly, buries his nose in the balled-up cotton, and takes in another breath. The next burst of heat that rolls through him is all pleasure, fleeting guilt assuaged by the wash of Bucky. The groan that works itself from Steve's chest is just as unstoppable as his right hand falling to his lap to undo the fastenings on his slacks.

It hadn't always been like this, Steve acknowledges, panting hot into the bundle of cloth and slipping his slim fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts. There hadn't always been this wriggling little desire in the back of his head when he'd catch a whiff of Bucky coming in from the dance halls or off a night shift at the docks. But, one day during a wet summer, the roof of their apartment started leaking while they'd both been out, and everything changed. Steve's bed had suffered the damage, sheets already beginning to stink with mildew, the mattress waterlogged, and the crates they'd used to prop it all up warping from the weight and rain. Without a hint of sunshine on the horizon, it had sent Steve right into Bucky's bed, the other man not giving him a chance to argue over why the floor and a handful of blankets would be just as good as the lumpy mattress he'd been suffering with already.

That night, Steve had found himself with his face pressed into Bucky's pillow, Bucky against his back, smelling like damp summer heat. It had felt, at the time, inevitable, laying there in the dark and then in the dawn, cock hard, breathing in Bucky's scent as slowly as he could so the other wouldn't get suspicious or worried about Steve's lungs if he caught Steve struggling for air. After that- after getting himself off while Bucky had gone to gel up his hair and brush his teeth to start the day, biting Bucky's pillow and licking his own fingers clean to hide the evidence- well, some wires had gotten crossed.

So here Steve is, one hand shoved into his drawers, the other holding Bucky's shirt to his nose and mouth, getting off as quickly as he can without risking an asthma attack or ruining his pants by shooting off too soon.

Wracked with shivers, haunched over himself, and muffling his panting gasps of pleasure with the spit-slick fabric, Steve drags his tongue over the shirt, wanting to taste the lingering hints of a night of dancing and spilled lemonade. Steve can almost hear a voice that sounds a lot like Bucky in the back of his head, teasing him with a tone that's just a bit smokey, like how Bucky sounds when he's done with a cigarette.

"You gonna cream yourself, sweetheart? Make a mess in your shorts?"

And even though it's not someone real asking him, Steve nods, digging his face into the shirt and hiccuping on an indulgent sob when he catches another hit of Bucky's stale cologne. The spice of it makes his cock throb, the undercurrent of work-sweat a stab to his gut even stronger than the feeling of fisting himself, tight and rushed.

Steve tips forward, lets his upper half drape over Bucky's bed, and arches into his hand, spine bent awkward, his orgasm bright and hot beneath his skin as it grows in throbbing pulses. He lets himself imagine the soft, wet fabric against his mouth is something even softer and bites back a whine.

God, what he wouldn't give to slide his mouth and nose down Bucky's stomach, to catch the drying sweat of a day's work against his tongue, the salt tang of sea and summer so sharp it might hurt to taste. Even still, what deal he wouldn't strike to go further, to let his face fall into the perfect crease of Bucky's thigh and groin, the hair there rough and the scent as strong as it will ever be, in that most protected place. He could come from it, he's sure, wouldn't even need a hand to fuck into, just Bucky crooning low and letting Steve take it all for himself.

Steve is so lost in the idea that he almost doesn't feel his climax peaking, the coil of pleasure-pain behind his navel tightening, pre-come leaking over his forefinger and thumb where the curve over the slit as he strokes himself. But it's there, right at the tip of his tongue, a choking sound of need and a stutter in his hips that threaten to spend his already sore knees sprawling as his balls begin to draw up and his shoulders begin to shake. 

He has just enough time to pull his cock from his shorts and drag Bucky's shirt from his mouth to press the fabric against the head of his dick, biting down on Bucky's mattress to muffle his grunts as he finishes, eyes squeezed shut and chest tightening at the distant thought at mixing him and Bucky together, even in this tiny way.

There's a moment, spent but still muggy with orgasm, where Steve draws Bucky's shirt away from his softening cock and contemplates bringing it back to his mouth to smear the both of them on his cheeks and chin. But he's already going to be running against the clock doing the laundry before the sun goes down and Bucky gets home; throwing in a shower on top of that isn't worth the momentary pleasure he won't get to linger in.

When he gets off the floor, Steve’s knees pop, and he knows they’ll be smudged with faint bruises in a few hours. Distracted by the familiar pain and receding waves of climax, Steve doesn’t hear the telling creak of floorboards from the bedroom doorway. So when a voice breaks the semi-quiet, his heart flies into his throat as he swings around, soiled shirt clutched to his chest, pants still unzipped and loose on his hips. He meets Bucky’s eyes, the other man leaning against the doorframe, all lazy angles and hooded eyes.

“You got a funny way of washing laundry, pal.”

#stucky #stevebucky #steve/bucky #stucky ficlet #captain america #captain america ficlet

[stevesbigbazoxngas]

Bucky coming home one day and seeing Steve hunched over on his bed, paper laid in his lap and charcoal pinched between his fingers. Steve looked up, sensing his presence in the doorway, and as he does, Bucky sees a small smudge of charcoal streaked on his cheek. Like Steve had wiped his face, forgetting the black residue on his thumbs. And at that, his heart swells and his stomach flips and fills with so many butterflies he feels he's gonna burst with it.

"Welcome hom--" Steve started but Bucky rushed forward and wrapped his arms around him, "Hi" Bucky mumbled into blonde hair. He's so in love with him he's almost overwhelmed. Steve made a confused hum but leaned back into him "Hi?" He tipped his head up and raised an eyebrow at him. "Wassup with you?" Steve asks but Bucky only grins wider and hooks a stray strand of blonde hair behind his ear. "Nothin' I just love you." Steve flushes red but grins back. " Love you too, Jerk." "Punk." Bucky mutters affectionately and presses a kiss to his forehead. His Punk.

#im sorry for posting cringe online #i just think they r cute #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stevebucky my beloveds #stevebucky brainrot go brrrrr #stucky #stupid writing thing! #40s stevebucky #40s stucky #i ❤️ gay ppl #ficlet #i suppose #idk what to tag this with #pre serum steve #noone look at me #catfa

[alpineandbucky]

Fandom: Marvel/Captain America Pairing: Steve Rogers/James "Bucky" Barnes Rating: General Audiences Tags: Alternate Universe - University, Fluff

As long as Steve has known him, Bucky has always been a note-taker. To-do lists scrawled on his forearms in various colors of ink as the thoughts come to him, reminders for Steve to pick up his prescriptions scribbled in the margins of his notebooks, and important dates pinned up on their refrigerator with sticky notes are expected in their household.

If it’s a thought in Bucky’s head, there’s undoubtedly a note of it somewhere in the vicinity. It’s one of the many things that Steve loves about Bucky — even if he can’t seem to keep his paws off of Steve’s fancy charcoal pencils. 

Steve sighs as he sinks into the library’s chair, wood groaning under his bulk. He hates the library and would so much rather be at home studying alongside Bucky in their small, studio apartment. Still, he can’t afford the distraction that being in Bucky’s proximity would surely provide. 

The end of the semester is coming fast and unyielding, and really, Steve should have been better prepared — Bucky had penned the date on the calendar months ago, after all. 

There are only a few short hours left until his last exam, a Biology course that he’s barely been able to keep his head above water in, even with Bucky’s consistent support.

Steve’s fingers itch to reach for his phone in search of a distraction, but he grabs his textbook instead, dropping it onto the table with little fanfare. A flash of yellow between the pages catches his attention, and Steve can’t help but flip through the pages, a small grin upturning his lips. 

Stuck on the first page of the chapter that Steve’s been having the hardest time with is a sticky note. 

STEVIE!!! Deep breaths, you’ve got this! You’re the smartest guy I know, and you’re gonna ace it. I believe in you!!!  Love you always, B

Steve carefully peels the note off the page before turning to his notebook. He flips to the last page, and his smile only grows when he sees the overlapping messages stuck to the page, sticky notes in every color of the rainbow layered over one another carefully. It isn’t every sticky note that Bucky’s ever left for him – there aren’t enough notebooks in the world for that – but it’s a collection of his favorites. 

When Steve turns back to his textbook, his anxieties haven’t magically disappeared. He’s still worried about the exam, that he’ll suddenly forget everything that he’s spent the semester learning, but he feels lighter. Steve knows that whatever happens, Bucky will always be in his corner, cheering him on from the sidelines. 

And hey, isn’t that worth more than an A on a Biology exam anyway?

written for @domaystic day one, prompt: memos on a sticky note

#domaystic2022 #day 1 #stucky #stevebucky #stucky fic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #spoiler: it's just fluff #liloau #allie writes #ficlet #seriously I’m trying to keep any of these fills under 500 words 🥲

[granatkoroleva]

𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐬

Read it here

Pairing ⊳ Model!Bucky Barnes x Photographer!Steve Rogers

Word Count ⊳ 624

Major Tags ⊳ Modern AU, Lingerie, Photographs, Confidence, Ficlet, Seduction

Rating ⊳M

Summary ⊳ Bucky has been in the modeling world a while, and when taking the opportunity for his first risqué shoot with an admired photographer, he can’t resist.

Square + Prompt ⊳ B3 - Kink: Lingerie | Stucky Bingo | Card # R40101 | @stuckybingo | 

A/n ⊳ Mood board made by yours truly 🖤

#stucky #bucky barnes #stucky bingo round 4 #smutconnoisseur #steve rogers #steve x bucky #ao3 #stevebucky #fic moodboard #ficlet #stucky fanfiction #stucky ficlet #stucky bingo

[gay-jewish-bucky]

Do they do gifts for hanukkah? When do they give them to each other ?

So, after doing some research, it looks like Hanukkah gifts (which developed in response to the increased commodification of Christmas in the 19th century) didn't really gain popularity until the 1950s, prior to that gelt was most commonly given.

The second way we can understand gift-giving as a Jewish custom is with the introduction of Hanukkah gelt in Europe during the 18th century. Many believe this custom developed because of the etymological connection between Hanukkah and education. Chinuch (education) shares the same Hebrew root (Chet/nun/chaf) as Chanukah (dedication). For this reason, education and specifically Torah study became a central practice during Hanukkah. (x)

Dianne C. Ashton, Director of American Studies at Rowan University and author of Hanukkah in America: A History, explains that the trend of exchanging Hanukkah gifts really took off in the 1950s. At this time, Jewish child psychologists as well as rabbis started promoting gifts as a way to make post-Holocaust Jewish kids happy to be Jewish, rather than sad about missing out on Christmas. (x)

So, this tradition would be new to them post-war.

I think before the war, the Barnes family would use the excuse of Christmas to preform tzedakah and give Steve and Sarah things they needed without causing them guilt or shame (like how they'd sell them their hametz during Passover and insist they eat it). Gifts like sweaters, hats and scarves, socks, warm blankets, preserved foods... things that would help them get through the bitter New York winters in their drafty tenement.

I think Steve and Bucky are introduced to modern Hanukkah gift-giving by Bucky's family, when the two return to America from Wakanda.

In Bucky's family they give a single present each night, starting small on the first night and moving up from there.

That first Hanukkah back state-side, when Bucky is finally with his family again, Steve has a plan for the first night, which he carries out with the help of Bucky's elderly sisters.

In Irish tradition the claddagh is given from mother to her eldest daughter, Sarah Rogers never had a daughter, but she was a smart woman. Before she passed, she left her ring with the Barnes family for safekeeping, knowing in her heart Steve and Bucky would need it one day.

After the candles are lit everyone gives each other their present.

Bucky's gift for Steve is the sketchbook he had when they were at the front. Steve breaks down, he hadn't seen it since before he went into the ice.

Once all the other gifts are handed out, Steve gives Bucky his.

Inside the small necklace box is Steve's Ma's claddagh, hanging from a silver chain, Bucky's eyes widen and start to glisten when he realizes what he's looking at, and Steve asks Bucky to marry him,

'I once said even when I had nothing, I had you... that's as true today as it was when I was just that little guy from Brooklyn, you were the only one who saw me back then and you were the first one to see through the serum.

I love you Buck, I always have, even if it took us a while to get our heads out of our asses.

It feels like every time I lost you, no matter how that destroyed me, fate was determined to give us another chance to get it right.

And, well... we always promised each other 'till the end of the line', so I think it's time we made it official, really get it right this time... would you do me the honour of becoming my husband?'

Bucky says yes, of course he does, there is a lot of happy crying and mazel tovs, and Bucky kisses Steve all over his stupid face after Steve clasps the chain around his neck.

#this got away from me #Jewish Holiday Writings - Hanukkah #marvel #mcu #stevebucky #stucky #jewish!bucky #jewish!bucky barnes #jewish bucky #jewish bucky barnes #steve rogers #steven grant rogers #bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #captain america #sarah rogers #ficlet #hanukkah #Assorted Jewish Writings - Marriage/Family/Home

[otpcutie]

Pheromones (1.7k)

Summary (Stucky, T): Steve’s pheromones affect Bucky in an unexpected way, luckily the Alpha is more than happy to take care of him.

Contains: Omegaverse, Alpha Steve/Omega Bucky, shrunkyclunks, Bucky's on his period, hurt/comfort, sulking, grumpy Bucky, fluff, affection, boys in love, smitten Steve (more on AO3)

A/N: this includes a prompt I received for Stucky + trying to make the other character laugh

@buckybarnesevents Build-A-Bucky Bingo, fill: forehead kiss / @badthingshappenbingo fill: cradling someone in their arms / @lgbtqbingo fill: mating bites / @afgomegaversebingo fill: scent suppressants / @stuckybingo fill: AU: A/B/O / Gen Prompt Bingo, fill: honey / @hurtcomfort-bingo fill: comfort activity

Preview below:

“Buck?” Steve called out as he arrived home, staring down at the string of ominous texts he’d received from his Omega earlier.  

My angel: You’re lucky you’re so hot. My angel: Bring chocolate My angel: 🥺

He toed off his shoes and walked towards their bedroom. Steve already knew Bucky wasn’t feeling well based on the TV show he heard playing. Pretty Little Liars, a comfort show of his.

Steve leaned against the door frame and gruffed out humorously, holding up the chocolate like they were engaged in some kind of hostage exchange, “I got the goods. Do you have the cash?”

♥︎ Continue on AO3 ♥︎ My Masterlist ♥︎

#stucky #Steve x bucky #Stevebucky #stucky fic #stucky moodboard #otpcutie #otpcutie fics #otpcutie moodboards #ficlets #ao3: otpcutie

[between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place]

@moonykat asked: First of all CONGRATS ON YOUR FIC-AVERSARY!!!!! ✨✨✨✨✨ You've been blessing all of us with your talent all this time, this fandom wouldn't be the same without you!!!!! 💕💕💕 Can I request some Wakanda Stucky, this line is from a song in Spanish called 'Eres' and translated it goes like this 'You are. When I wake up, the first thought I think about, that's what you are. What my life lacks when I don't have you, that's what you are. The one and only precious thought in my mind.

Kat!!! I was about to answer your ask/prompt but stupid tumblr ate my draft 😥... Anyway, thank you so much and right back at you! Thank you for being here and sharing your beautiful art with us 💚💚💚

Here's a sweet and spicy ficlet for you (though I may have mixed up the cinnamon and the angst ...)

how I loved you? like this, 0,8k, M

Read it on AO3

or under the cut

you sure about this?

He leaves his heart in a cryo tank in the royal palace; it’s been frozen for a long time anyway.

the best thing—for everybody

The guest house sits in a speck of a village straddling the bounds of the capital—it reminds him of a home in another century; he stays there until Natasha comes for him.

just a kid from Brooklyn

They hit the Raft in the gray hours before dawn and leave behind one guard in a cell, strapped into the straitjacket—a message.

too dumb not to run away from a fight

They cross the globe—Singapore to Cuba to Istanbul to La Paz—being chased and chasing, rumors and intercepted whispers.

not sure I’m worth all this

The inconspicuous flip phone he carries dings like clockwork, marking another week—minor breakthrough, adjusting the process, just a little while longer; outside the flimsy window screen he hears another city bustle, come to life for the night, and wishes he could lose himself in it, stumble through the streets with the same heedless abandon. 

you always stand up

He sees ghosts of the dead and the living—on street corners, through a tea shop window, in the rear-view mirror of a borrowed truck; he does a double take and they’re gone.

I can get by on my own

Sam sits with him on a moon-drenched rooftop in Beirut and listens, while he fumbles with words that are too big and too small and doesn’t end up really saying anything at all.

thing is—you don’t have to

Wanda learns how to tune out their nightmares while they sleep.

he’s my friend

It’s a Tuesday in the middle of the Siberian winter and his hands grow numb, unfeeling fingers cracking the screen that reads: It’s done. He’s waiting for you.

till the end of the line

Natasha finds him; they’re in the air within the hour.

∞

There’s a room on the topmost floor of the palace. It is sparse but full of color—the open balcony, a painting, a fiery sunset streaking the walls. A man stands by the open windows, his back to the door. Chestnut hair falls to his shoulders; the left one is wrapped in a blue cloth.

His heart drops and shatters on intricate stone-laid floors. No—it’s the ice that shatters; the heart beats and bleeds.

“How long have you been awake?” Asking hurts, like picking at a scab that’s been infected.

“Month—six weeks, give or take.” The man by the window turns. Bathed in the warm light his eyes are colorless; not shadow but shards of crystal, fractured light spilling through. He’s an idol of serenity—something to be worshiped.

It’s a heady mix of pain and wonder that catches his breath in his throat. “I didn’t know.”

A nod aimed at the floor. “I wasn’t ready.”

The words cut, quick and cleansing, fresh blood pouring from a never-healed wound. His body has moved without invitation; he stops, shakes his head, swallows it down.

“That’s okay, Buck.” You don’t have to be ready, ever. It’s enough that you are.

That name spoken aloud causes something to shift, a flicker of movement behind the glass.

“Steve.” It’s wavering, raw, urgent—everything he feels. 

Bucky takes a step toward him. And another. He’s close enough that Steve could hold out his hand and touch him, feel him as flesh and bone. He is here.

Bucky’s staring right at him. “Stubborn punk,” he mutters. “You ever gonna ask for something for yourself?”

It’s staggeringly familiar; it’s time and space bending and dropping him through a wormhole; it’s a blow to ribs left exposed in a fight.

Steve’s heart lodges in his throat. “How could I?”

Bucky sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose—the gesture too human for such sacred beauty. “Fine. Then do something for me.”

“Anything.” It’s automatic, knee-jerk.

“Remind me.” He takes another step. “How.” They’re chest to chest. “You loved me.” Their breaths are mixing together.

Steve’s eyes sting. If he focuses on that it will stop the world from tilting out under his feet and dropping him into space.

“You don’t remember?”

A smile, then. “Wanna make sure I do.”

He braves a touch. His hands find solid warmth, movement, life.

“Like this,” he says into the nest of dark curls, that secret spot of soft skin, the racing pulse underneath.

“Like this,” he says against bitten lips.

“Like this,” he breathes with eyes closed and foreheads leaned together.

Like this—fabric pulled to the side revealing skin, inch by luxurious inch—like this—eyes travel, followed by fingers, followed by lips—like this—nails clawing in careful desperation, limbs crushing, teeth drawing blood to the surface—like this—the bed a heavenly cloud under his arching back—like this—he spreads himself open, vulnerable, defenseless—like this—urging, begging, praying—like this—fallen, surrendered, branded, claimed—

Like this: a body tucked next to his as velvety blackness falls over the plain.

#em's fic-a-versary #stucky #stucky ficlet #wakanda stucky #stevebucky

[sparkagrace]

for the wrapped game! Stucky and #10 ❤️

Hi anon! Thanks for asking. This is the last ficlet so I'm glad that we're ending on a song I love!

This is a follow on from the Steve/Winter Soldier ficlets: part 1 | part 2

tags: identity porn, hurt/comfort, steve/winter soldier

I wanna chase it, taste it Nothing can replace this craving I’ve got Just another moment, hoping I could be the only one that you want

—

He’s hurt. Steve knows this with an immediacy because there’s pain blooming from his gut that seems to be burning his blood. He’s unusually dizzy with it so he knows it must be bad if he can’t focus on the street in front of him. 

Walk it off. Try. 

Steve manages two steps before he feels his legs buckle underneath him and the feel of cool steel against his face in the dark. He thinks he’s close to home. He had been running and now he’s not. And he has no idea how far he is. 

There’s the scrape of metal and the scuffle of boots on asphalt, but it’s hard and his vision is blurring and he thinks maybe he can’t walk this one off. Maybe that serum has an expiry date. Whoever is there will send the final blow, he’s sure of it. This is how it ends — in an alleyway in Brooklyn, like so many other times he’s thought to himself that he might not get himself out of this one. Only then he was like ninety pounds and five-four and running up a flight of stairs could potentially kill him. 

He wasn’t supposed to die like this.

Then something familiar. A voice. A hand. 

I’ve got you.

When Steve comes to, he’s not anywhere that he recognizes. It’s a sparse room that has a breeze running through it that makes him feel cold as it hits his sweat-damp forehead. He shivers slightly and then feels warmth. He manages to make out a space heater being angled towards him and the figure is someone he knows. 

The Soldier. 

“You’ll live,” the Soldier says, his domino mask still on his face. “I stitched you up.”

Steve’s hands move under the itchy blanket he’s been provided, but the Soldier tuts loudly. 

“Don’t move.”

“But I…” Steve sighs. He’s warm and it’s nicer than being out on the street bleeding out. “Was it bad?”

“Nothing I can’t fix.” The Soldier moves away from him, towards a small kitchenette area that Steve can barely make out in the low lighting in the room. There’s a glass of water and two white pills on the table in front of Steve. “Take those. You’ll be fine in the morning.”

“I should call my team.”

“No.”

“I won’t tell them where I am.”

“No.” The Soldier shows him where Steve’s comms have been smashed. “Can’t take risks.”

“Why did you save me?”

The Soldier doesn’t answer. He’s busy dishing something out into a bowl and the aroma hits Steve’s senses, transforming the ache in his stomach from pain to hunger. How long has he been here? The Soldier brings over the bowl and sits on the coffee table in front of him, stirring a spoon delicately as if he doesn’t want to wake anybody up.

“Are we alone?” Steve asks. The Soldier nods. “Hydra?”

“They won’t bother us here. They don’t know about it.”

“You escaped?” Steve can’t help the questions coming. This is the most conversation that he’s had with the Soldier while they’ve been clothed. The Soldier sighs and blows softly over a spoon of what looks like noodle soup before offering it to Steve’s mouth. “What are—”

“Less questions. More eating.” 

Steve eats because when the Soldier asks him to do something, he follows. Somehow he finds it easier to do with the Soldier than anybody else. 

The food isn’t tasty but it’s warm and filling. Steve looks around the room as the Soldier does the same thing: stir, a spoon, blows, offers it to Steve. They get about halfway through the bowl before Steve can’t help another question.

“Do you live here?”

The Soldier seems to think before he shakes his head. “I can’t tell you that.”

“I won’t tell. I haven’t told anybody about what we do.” Steve swallows and keeps his eyes trained on the Soldier, whose motions have slowed but not completely stilled. 

“Why not?”

Steve doesn’t know the answer to that. Or rather, he’s afraid of the answer. He knows if he tells someone, this will stop. Either because someone will put a stop to it, or the Soldier would stop coming. Steve’s gotten too used to the Soldier’s visits even if he doesn’t know when to expect them. 

“Why did you help me?” he asks instead of answering. 

It could be the moonlight from the threadbare curtains but Steve thinks that he sees the ghost of a smirk cross the Soldier’s features. 

“Do you have a name?” Steve opens his mouth for another bite so that the Soldier knows that they’re back in their safe routine. The food is warm now but the Soldier still blows before offering the spoon. 

“Asset.”

“That’s not a name,” Steve frowns. “I am Steve.”

The Soldier puts the bowl down on the table with a clatter even though there’s food remaining. He stands and moves towards the door before Steve can stop him. 

“Sleep and leave in the morning. Do not tell anyone where you were.”

“Don’t leave!” Steve sits up too fast and winces as the pain returns like a punch. The Soldier hasn’t left but he lingers by the door. “Please. Please stay. You never stay.”

Steve hears the door open and close, and he slumps against the lumpy couch and groans. It’s a few moments before he realizes that he’s not alone and he opens his eyes to find the Soldier back in front of him. His movements are so stealthy even inside his own home — or whatever this place is to him.

“You’ve never asked me to stay before,” the Soldier tells him. He sits back down on the coffee table and studies Steve’s face. “Steve.”

Something about the way he says the name makes Steve’s heart jump into his throat and there’s a weird longing in his chest that hurts. He doesn’t know why but the Soldier’s eyes seem to be thinking the same thing. 

He can feel his head begging him to go to sleep and he suspects it’s the painkillers or whatever pills the Soldier offered him. He’s been through a lot: food and sleep usually helps Steve’s serum work. 

“Take off your mask for me. Just once,” Steve begs. His eyes are heavy and he doesn’t know if he’s falling asleep or dying, but he needs to know even if it’s the last thing he sees. 

It takes some time — as if the Soldier is weighing up his options — but the Soldier’s fingers move up to his domino mask and he slowly peels it off. Steve tries to force his eyes to stay open and reaches out, feeling the rough cheekbones and stubble of the Soldier’s face. 

With all his remaining energy, Steve keeps his eyes open to take a look at the eyes he’s been so desperate to see. Slate gray and cold but there’s something so familiar and known in them that Steve wants to cry. The last thing he hears is his name and then he’s in the black.

-

When Steve wakes up the mask is still in his hand and the Soldier is gone.

#stevebucky #steve x bucky #stucky fanfic #ficlet #my fic #ask games

[dadbabyyy]

one of the things that really gets me about endgame is that it breaks one of the most consistent patterns throughout caps entire trilogy: steve and bucky refusing to leave each other

steve defying his commanding officer’s orders bc there’s a chance that bucky might be alive

bucky risking getting burned alive, exclaiming “no, not without you!” when steve urges him to push forward

and ofc, it’s been argued that steve crashed the plane because he couldn’t go on without bucky, supported by ca:ws when steve doesn’t hesitate to risk dying by bucky’s hand if there’s any chance it’ll free him

steve fights against the whole un for bucky, with no proof that bucky’s innocent. literally holds down a helicopter with his bare hands to stop him from leaving. gives up his shield for bucky, without a moments hesitation

and then, when steve is finally faced with no adversity, when the easiest thing he could possibly do is stay with bucky, the man he’s fought for all his life, the man who’s fought for him… he leaves?

fuck disney, and not just bc they killed stucky, but because they told a really shitty story

#stucky #stevebucky #val says stuff #ficlet #fuck endgame