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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

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Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, m&f, intercourse)

This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader is a fic writer and her number one fan can’t get enough.

Note: This is probably the most meta shit I’ve written but for all the fic writers out there, this one if for you. Hope y’all get the good d you deserve but until then, here’s this!

Please let me know what you think in a reblog/reply! <3 please and thank you.

You let out a sigh of relief and hit ‘post’. It was almost pathetic but it was the best part of your day, or most days. Having something to share with others was nice. The fact that they enjoyed your work and your boredom-induced work made it worth the frustration.

It wasn’t real writing. You knew that. Fanfiction was a genre to be laughed at. You didn’t admit it to anyone but there was a sense of pride to go along with the shame.

That part of you was kept online. The darker parts; the lust, the angst, the fear. It all went hand in hand and no one would guess that the bookshop assistant was stevies-doll. It felt almost scandalous to have a virtual alter ego.

You closed your laptop and checked the time. More than enough to get ready for work. Plain blouse, grey pants, mary jane flats. You were the typical bookish girl with dreams that would never come true.

The bus was late. Oh well. You’d still be there in time you’d just have to forego your usual espresso. Afternoons were draining and you often needed the boost to keep from nodding off in the last hour. You really weren’t sure why the shop stayed open so late; not many came out after five for books but traffic was relatively steady in the hipster village.

Nina met you with a frown. She preferred you at least ten minutes earlier. Tardiness had seen several other clerks fired and you had been the only to make it more than a year in the shop. Three in fact. This place was like a second home. A garden of ideas to plant the seeds of your mind.

When Nina left, you rearranged the desk. You moved aside her ledger and replaced it with your notebook, two pens to the right of it. In between the chime of the door and the rare customer queries you did most of your writing. When you reached a block you’d read, but today you felt particularly inspired.

The world was saved again. The news reports had shown footage of the daring rescue. As grim as the situation was, you couldn’t help but fantasize. The first avenger with his golden hair and sharp jawline was every woman’s Adonis. At least, you thought he was the very picture of perfection.

It wasn’t obsession. That was your mantra. You often argued with yourself. As much as you thought of the great Steve Rogers, it was only admiration. It wasn’t the possessive infatuation often found on social media. It was a hobby. An escape from the world.

You bent over the notebook. The shop was empty. The dulcet tones of indie folk floated along the shelves. You set pen to paper and waited for the ring to draw you away from the world behind your eyes.

You leaned on the counter and scribbled the first line in ink. That was always the hardest part. Then again, the beginning was always more exciting than the end.

‘The day the earth went dark, there was but one beacon left to shine…’

It was amusing at first. The thought of another person spending so much time writing about him. That someone would fabricate an entire universe in which he was entirely different. Somewhere out there was a woman who wore the pseudonym ‘stevies-doll’.

Steve knew he should have been perturbed by the fact. The idea of another so consumed by him that they would post almost every other day about him. He couldn’t remember how he stumbled on the small blog. A decent following but nothing close to viral.

The first story he read was cute. It even made him feel warm. The second was very much the same. He clicked through to another, this one more serious. Grey and daunting. A few more and he stumbled upon one he found most interesting, the letters NSFW emblazoned across the top. He googled the acronym and clicked back to the tab. Excited almost.

When he finished, he was warm in another way. Hot, almost. The things he read, the idea of him doing them, was almost arousing. Of course, he had never done any of it. Had never been more than the perfect gentlemen. Sweet and doting. That was how love should be. But that wasn’t love, no, that story was sex. Pure, unadulterated fucking.

He forced himself away from the computer after that. He needed to sleep. He had intended to browse his email quickly but he often found himself in the oddest rabbit-holes. That was definitely the deepest. He shook his head and chuckled. It was funny.

The next morning he awoke and went about his usual routine. He was out the door by seven. Off to save the world. Or wait around for it to need saving. At Stark Tower, he listened to Tony with his eyes on his phone. It wasn’t anything important. Some recounting about how he had scared Pepper with a nano-spider.

Steve gave a half-hearted chuckle and Tony went back to his screen. “Tough audience,” He muttered to Bruce who merely shook his head.

Steve leaned against a stool and squinted at his phone. He stared at the google search. Why had he typed it in? Somewhere in the tedium of Tony’s chatter, he had keyed in the name. He hit the first link and his phone loaded slowly.

His own face stared back at him. The banner was a press photo he had taken over a year ago. His bright eyes were staunch beneath the mask as he stared off into the distance. She had posted again. His thumb hovered over ‘read more’. Did he dare?

He looked up to make sure he was not being observed. The two scientists were too distracted to care about his online activity. He stood straight and cleared his throat. “I’m gonna hit the gym,” He lied. A grumble from both scientists as they squinted at the floating screens. “Right, have fun.” Steve said dryly as he left them to their work.

He stepped out in the hall and pressed his thumb to the screen. He bent his head over the phone as he walked blindly down the halls. Neither Tony or Bruce noticed through the window that he had gone entirely the wrong way. Steve didn’t either as his eyes flitted over the screen.

‘The day the earth went dark, there was but one beacon left to shine…’

You couldn’t believe how much your blog had grown in the last few months. You didn’t know if it betrayed your unexciting life or your one-track mind. Both, maybe. But it made your everyday responsibilities a little less tedious.

And the messages were even better than the hit count. Several had messaged to say they loved your work and went so far as to call you an inspiration. It was flattering but it was easy to remember who you were. No Stephen King or JK Rowling. You wrote silly one shots with limited development.

Today your inbox had been steady. Every time you found yourself bored at work, you opened the app and you had another message. Most of them short or even just emojis but nice nonetheless. And there was one you were waiting to answer

So long and in depth you had to give it more than just a thanks. You opened it several times and reread it.

‘Your story is really interesting. I think the way your portray Steve is believable. In this type of writing you rarely find anything realistic but your writing feels genuine if not entirely accurate. I would say you capture the essence of Steve perfectly and his actions at least make sense.

I always enjoy your updates and even look forward to them...especially the NSFW ones. ;)’

It was one of the few users who didn't use the anonymous feature and also left a complete comment. It was refreshing and you had come to look forward to their commentary. They went by CapUSA. Another Steve fangirl who was surprisingly inactive outside your blog. Her page was almost a clone of your own. They liked every post, reblogged, and commented. What more could a writer ask for?

Original characters maybe and not just fantasies of someone who’d never know of her existence. You closed your laptop and sighed. It felt like time. You could feel the block at the back of your head. The little thrill you got was wearing off and it felt like a phase better left to fade with your emo days in high school and that month in university when you dyed your hair purple.

You readied for work. Back on days that week. Opening was always easier. It didn’t feel so drawn out. Nina would be in at one and you’d keep her company until four. It meant little time for writing. Maybe that was for the better. You needed to start planning. For the future. For something truly your own. A fantasy so detached from reality that it would make market and maybe even a dime.

That was your dream. You didn’t want to be the listless fangirl forever. Ugh, how you hated to even call yourself a fangirl. No post today, you resigned. Maybe none tomorrow. You’d have to work up the courage to announce your hiatus. Life was calling and for once a sliver of genuine inspiration.

And the bookstore. It was Shakespeare’s birthday, which conveniently was also his death day. This meant two for one on all of his works. Nina also hired actors to stand outside the shop and re-enact famous scene from the playwright’s repertoire. They wouldn’t arrive till noon but you had a lot of set-up to do. Enough to keep you from thinking of the disappointed messages that would fill your inbox.

Steve scrolled through the pale pink blog for the dozenth time that morning. It had been two weeks since stevies-doll posted. The longest two weeks of his life. He wasn’t sure when it had become a staple in his life. A ritual almost. He’d read her latest fic as he laid down and try to clear his head of blood and grime. Lose himself in the person she dreamed he was. The man he had come to envy. Fictional but all too real in his head.

But there was nothing. At first he re-read and read again. But that grew old. He knew almost every story by heart at this point. He could recite the intro line to most and he fell asleep as his imagination reconstructed the things he had never done.

Her banner flashed across his sight when he woke, the image of his blue eyes staring beyond him. He’d come to think of her Steve as an altar ego. The beast buried deep inside of him. He was tired of being the nation’s golden child. Their unwavering moral beacon. He wanted to be him and she had helped him figure out who he truly was.

But she was gone. No green dot above her name in the chat window, her last post dated fourteen days ago, her blog like a time capsule. The ice that had preserved him for seventy years. Where was she?

Then a thought struck him. A devious one. He had been on enough missions to know his way around a computer. He considered himself quite savvy after living nearly a decade ahead of his time. It was simple enough. He tracked down many a drug pin this way and they were often concealed behind walls of encryption. He doubted she had more than a store-bought antivirus, if that.

He climbed out of bed and booted his computer. His leg shook impatiently and he tossed his phone just beneath the corner of the monitor. He rubbed his palms together as the home screen loaded and he clicked on the browser.

Her IP was simple enough to find. Right-click, inspect. When he found it, he felt his heart jump. This was a line. A very clear one. If he did this, there was no going back. He let go of the mouse and leaned his chin in his hands. He stared at her page, split by the window of code, and his jaw ticked.

He hit back and went to the messenger. He clicked on her name and his fingertips ran over the space bar. He didn’t know what to say. He’d send her little asks about her fics but he never messaged her directly. Would she respond?

‘Hey,’ He typed slowly, his fingers sped up with each key, ‘I’m a fan of your work. I think it’s excellent. I just wanted to check in and see if you were still writing for this blog.’

He hit enter and waited. He focused on the grey dot beside her name. If she saw this, it likely wouldn’t be until morning. He checked the time and sighed. It was late. He had an early briefing with Tony and he should try to sleep.

He hovered the cursor over the x but the dot turned green and he paused. The little ‘...’ blipped in the bottom of the chat box and the ding of her reply was music to his ears.

‘Hey, sorry. I know I’ve been quiet lately. I’ve just been so busy with work. I’m a bit behind at the moment. Thank you though for following me. I always enjoy your comments :)’ He read it several times before he could reply. Before he could even think of the words to.

‘It’s okay. We all have responsibilities. Take your time.’ He wanted to tell her to hurry up but who knew? She might be someone important, like a lawyer or teacher. He could wait. As long as there was hope.

‘Thanks. I appreciate that. Really.’ That response was quicker. Curt, almost.

‘I don’t want to overstep but are you okay?’ His cheeks were hot.

‘Ah, you know, life.’

He scratched his chin as he leaned back in his chair. Slowly he sat forward and typed. It took him three tries to get it right. Concerned but not pushy. ‘Anything you wanna talk about?’ He waited. The three dots appeared then faded. Several times before her answer blipped up.

‘I don’t wanna trouble you but I appreciate you asking. Nothing I won’t get over.’

‘Ok, no problem. Just know that if you need it, I could listen. It’s could to talk about stress.’ He laughed at himself. He should take his own advice. He had a horrible habit of letting things pile up until he burst at the seams.

‘Thanks again. I’ll ttyl. I gotta get some sleep. Have a good one.’

‘You, too,’ He replied a bit too quickly. ‘Talk to you then.’

You were ready to post again. It had been almost a month since your last fic and you had been reluctant to return. You couldn’t help checking in daily to see your notifications and scroll mindlessly through your own content. And your offline writing had come to a halt. You were stuck and you didn’t know how else to cope but fall back on what you knew.

Your new friend had helped too. CapUSA had quickly become a stalwart of your blog. She, or he, you still weren’t sure, spoke to you almost everyday. They encouraged you to try one more fic as you mulled over a certain prompt. Why not? It would be like a writing exercise. Maybe it would help you with your original writing. Take some of the pressure off.

And you didn’t just talk about writing. You talked about the bookstore and Nina’s incessant complaints. You talked about the stresses of your lives. Friends, or lack thereof. Cap seemed a popular person and recounted stories of the latest drama. A close knit group of friends who acted more like adversaries. It was amusing and made your forget that your life was rather empty.

You hit post and smiled. That familiar rush rolled over you and you snapped closed your laptop. You were already dressed and ready for work. You crammed in the quick editing session before the bus was due and now you’d have to run for it.

Back on afternoons. It was rainy and you were soaked by the time you got to the shop. The weather always helped traffic and you ducked behind the counter where Nina was tending to the line with Cara, a new addition. The curly-haired blonde reminded you of old Hollywood. Her high cheekbones and rose lips rivaled Monroe’s.

“Do you want me to start early?” You asked as you tucked your bag under the counter between them.

“You better. I’m gone in ten and Cara’s only on til three.” Nina muttered. “We got a new shipment. Boxes are at the end of the aisles. We’ve not had a chance to touch ‘em.”

“Okay, I’ll get right on it,” You pin your name tag on and stepped back around the counter. She was in one of her moods and all the better that you avoid her until she left. You went to the end of the history aisle and opened the box against the wall.

‘You working?’ The vibration drew your attention from re-arranging the non-fiction section. The message floated in a bubble on your lock screen. You smiled. This faceless stranger felt like more. Of course, virtual friendships were often fleeting.

You glanced down the aisle, both Nina and Cara were squinting at the computer as a customer waited patiently for them to figure out their conundrum. You swiped away the lock and typed swiftly with your phone hidden behind your leg.

‘Closing. Here all night.’

‘Oh :( you got company at least?’

‘For a couple more hours. But no shortage of work. :/’

‘Damn. Should I leave you alone?’

‘Up to you. My responses might be sporadic. Boss isn’t very pleasant today.’

‘Cool. I just read your new fic.’

‘Yeah? Sorry I haven’t checked my notifications just yet.’

‘No problem. I left a comment is all.’

‘What are you up to?’

‘Taking a break from driving. I should actually get back to it. It’s a long trip.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To see a friend.’

‘Ah, ok. Well, drive safe.’

‘I will ;) See ya later.’

‘ttyl :)’

‘Nina’s Nook’. Steve read the crooked moniker several times over. He couldn’t believe he was actually there. That she was inside. He made good time on the road. An eight hour trip in six. Of course, he hadn’t exactly abided the speed limit. His impatience had turned to recklessness. So unlike him.

The sky was dim. The summer nights came later and later. She’d be done in an hour. The streets were dying down and the door hadn’t chimed in almost as long. He felt nervous all of a sudden. He tried to shrug of his anxiety and took a breath.

She wouldn’t know it was him. Well, she might recognize him but she wouldn’t know he was CapUSA. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction. Steve Rogers in her bookshop. In this town. It would be a story she would recount for the rest of her life. An encounter she would never forget.

Oh, he’d make sure she remembered it.

He crossed the street. A single car passed as he stepped up on the curb. It was much quieter than New York. No honking, no shouts, no hissing sewers. He liked it. It was quaint. He stood before the door and peeked through the glass. There was no one behind the desk. But the sign read open and the lights shone in welcome.

He pushed down the handle and slowly opened the door. The bell announced his entrance and a small voice called from the corner of the shop. “One moment, please.” He heard the shuffle of books and light footsteps. She emerged from the far shelves and his lips parted at the sight of her.

He had seen her before. Her few photos on Facebook and Instagram. He had found those shortly after he ferreted out her IP. He couldn’t see much but her privacy settings allowed him a glimpse into her real life. Her smile was nicer than in her pictures.

“Sorry, I was--” She stopped short as she saw him. She blinked. He closed his mouth as hers fell open. Her voice was higher when she spoke next. “I was just sorting some stuff out. I--How can I help you?”

“Um, a friend recommended a book to me and I was passing by, I thought maybe by chance… you might have it.” He kept his voice even. The same one he used for his press conferences.

“Do you have a title?” She asked. He could see her fingers tremble. The guilt as her eyes rounded. She was thinking of all the things she had wrote about him. He was thinking of those too.

“Jeez, you know, I’ve totally forgotten but the author was, uh…” He pretended to think and his eyes drifted down her body. Her flowered blouse was boxy but her pants hugged the curves of her hips and legs. She clasped her hands together and the gesture pushed her chest together between her arms. “Margaret Archer--er, Atwood.”

“Hmm, she’s done a lot. Do you know what it’s about?” She pulled her hands apart and wiped her palms on her dark pants. His eyes followed the movement. He wanted his hands there. Wanted to feel her thighs against him.

“Something about an apocalypse...um, a character named...Snow--Snow something.” He acted like he coudn’t remember. Couldn’t recall that it was stevies-doll who had recommended the very book.

“Oh, Oryx and Crake, I think it is. It’s an interesting one.” She smiled, proud to have figured out the riddle. “If you will, it should be with our most popular books.”

She hesitated as she passed him. He followed her as she went to the shelf just beside the counter. She hovered her finger before the titles as she read them. She bent as she got lower. He admired her ass as she did. He tucked his hands in his pocket before he could reach out.

“Yeah, I think it’s in sci-fi.” She stood and peeked over her shoulder. “It’s just over here.” She led him down the narrow aisle to the end. “Starts just here so Atwood…” She scanned the shelf, “Here.” She pulled out the book and held it out to him. “We have it in hardcover too.”

He took it and felt the raised letters on the cover. “Thanks.” He didn’t even acknowledge the book in his hand. The aisle was so tight she was trapped between him and the wall. She gave a sheepish smile and he turned to press his back to the shelf. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

She nodded and squeezed past him. Her chest brushed against his torso and she pretended not to notice. Once past him, she cleared her throat. “If you need any help, I’ll be up front.” She turned before he could respond and her watched her go. He never would’ve guessed the mousy shop assistant would have such a lurid imagination.

You were in disbelief. It couldn’t be. Steve Rogers in your book shop? No, you were dreaming. Or was it a nightmare? Oh god, why had you written all that stuff? You needed to delete. Now. You could hear him. The floor creaked as he moved slowly down the aisle. You hoped he would’ve taken the book and gone. The longer he stayed, the worse you felt. Your cheeks were on fire.

Your phone vibrated. You swiped the screen and found a new message from CapUSA. You sighed and rubbed your eyes. You should just pretend you didn’t see it. You unlocked the phone and read the message.

‘Hey, how’s work?’

‘It’s fine.’ You answered. What could you say? Who would believe that Steve Rogers had walked in your door?

‘I just was thinking about your last fic.’

‘Oh yeah?’ You peeked over at the far aisle. The floor no longer whined with his weight.

‘Yeah, I’d love to re-enact the last scene.’

‘Sorry?’ You sent the message and it went unanswered. ‘I don’t get it. What do you mean?’

‘The one with the girl on her knees. Begging to be fucked.’

‘Okay? I still don’t understand.’ Your heart jumped. This was really weird.

‘Or maybe and I could fuck you on that counter you’re standing behind.’

You hit close and locked the phone. You dropped it and looked around the shop. You rushed out from behind the counter and glanced out the window. You turned the latch and the floorboards groaned. You turned and pressed yourself to the door. You forgot he was there.

How could you forget something like that?

“Sorry, uh, we’re closing up,” You felt around for the lock, “I was just--”

“That’s okay. I think I’m just about done.” He slapped the book against his palm and placed it on the corner of the counter. He set his phone on top of it with a flourish. “Why don’t you flip the sign and we can get started.”

“What are you--”

“Do you prefer I call you by your real name or stevies-doll?” He leaned against the counter and smirked. “Or I can just call you doll. I know you like that.”

“No,” You exhaled shakily, “Y-you can’t be…”

“You’re not happy to see me?” He asked. He didn’t sound like the hero you saw on the news. Barely looked like him now. His pupils dilated to darken his blue eyes and the shadows of the shop cast his face in sinister tones. “You can call me Stevie if you like.”

“I...What I wrote, it was just...” You spluttered. “I’m s-sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.” He pushed himself away from the counter. “I’m not mad. Intrigued really.”

He stepped closer and your ears pounded as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. You turned and fumbled with the lock. The door opened an inch before his hand slammed it shut again. He easily flipped the lock back into place and spun the sign with a flick of his thumb.

“You can close early and we can have some fun...maybe inspire a new fic.” His arm was around your waist and you grabbed onto his thick wrist.

“They’re just stories.” You kicked as he pulled you away from the door. He tugged the blind down over the window. “Stupid fantasies.”

“Well, consider this a dream come true, doll,” He spun and let you go. You collided with the desk and gasped as the air was knocked from your lungs. “I think you remember this scene.”

“What do you want?” You clung to the desk as you turned to him.

“You know, I’m everything people think I am. Straight-laced, valiant, boring.” He planted his feet and stared you down. “Or was...until I found your blog.” His tongue ran across his bottom lip. “It gets lonely on the road. At first, your blog was like a secret companion. It gave me something to look forward to but then it made me think. So many things I never even knew I was missing out on.”

“Please, I don’t know what you want from me,” Your voice cracked. Your fear surged and left you shaking against the counter.

“I want…” He tilted his head and his eyes flashed, “You.” He paused and pushed his shoulders back. “On your knees.” Your eyes rounded, “Oh yes,” He raised a finger, “Naked.”

You stared at him. You were frozen in place. The counter your only support from melting into a puddle. His nostrils flared as he exhaled; long and drawn out.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” He snarled and his hand balled into a fist.

You gulped and held yourself with one hand against the counter as you bent to unlace your oxfords. You kicked them off with your socks and mustered your strength. You stood on your own and unbuttoned your shirt. You kept your eyes on the aged carpet stretched across the hardwood.

You dropped the blouse onto your shoes and unzipped your fly. The wool trousers slid halfway down without help and you untangled your legs from them. You added them to the heap and stood straight.

“Look at me,” Steve ordered. Your eyes snapped over to him. “Good.” You reached back and he raised a hand. “Stop...I wanna do it.”

He waved you forward and slowly you stepped away from the counter. He bared his palm in a gesture for you to halt and you hung your head. “Eyes up.” He corrected as he came closer. He walked around you and stopped just behind you.

His thick fingers touched the band of your bra and ran along it until they met at the hooks. He carefully unclasped it and the cups fell loose. He tickled your arms as he pushed the straps down them. He took it and flung it away from him. His hands came up to cup your tits and he pushed himself flush to your back.

“You always wrote so vividly of me but...I never knew how beautiful you truly were...how good you feel.” He squeezed and slowly lowered his hands. He dragged them to the side of your panties and slipped his fingers beneath the elastic. He bent as he guided the panties down your legs. “God, that ass.”

You shivered and his hands cradled your ass. He ran his rough palms along your cheeks and up your back. They settled on your shoulders and he pushed down firmly. “On your knees.”

He stepped back and you unsteadily got to your knees. He walked another circle around you. You could hear his dusky breaths. Glimpsed how his hand ran over the front of his jeans.

“Now ask, like a good girl,” He stopped before you and stared down with a smirk. “Go on, doll, I know you want it.”

You closed your eyes and swallowed. You grit your teeth and gather what was left of your wits. A story. That’s all this was. The letters could be backspaced and no one would know better of it.

“Please,” You recalled the last scene you had posted. The tingle which had flowed through you as you hit the button. What had she said? You opened your eyes. “Please, I want to...I want to make you happy.” You shuddered as the words whisked from you. “Can I?”

“Can you...what?” He taunted.

“Can I suck your dick?” It was barely a whisper.

“Oh, well, since you asked so nicely,” His hands were on his belt as he spoke. “But I have a different scene in mind for tonight. A new one.” He unbuckled his belt and cracked his neck. “I want you on the counter. On your back.”

You made to stand and his hand went to your head. He held you down.

“Crawl.”

You weakly dropped forward and turned. You crawled on hands and knees as he followed, stopping just in front of the desk as you followed his pointed finger to the other side. You stood and lifted yourself onto the counter and laid on your back. He guided your head over the side as he pulled you close and his hands found your tits again. He tweaked your hard nipples and you bit your lip.

He rescinded his hands and finished unzipping his pants. You tried not to watch as he pushed his pants down, his briefs too. The blur focused and you gaped at the size of him. He gripped himself and you snapped your mouth shut. He grabbed your chin and squeezed.

“Now, now, don’t act like this isn’t what you wanted,” He pressed his cock to your mouth and you were forced to open as his fingers threatened to crush your jaw.

He slid inside and your gasp was stifled as he met the back of your throat. He forced himself further and you threw your arms out. A clatter of books and papers as you swept them off the counter. He lingered at his limit and wiggled his hips. You arched your back as you choked and he grabbed your tit, kneading it as he slowly pulled out.

He pushed back in just as you gulped down air and you writhed atop the desk. He thrust in and out of your mouth. You gagged and groaned. The noises only fueled his fervour and he sunk in over and over until your head pulsed. The spit smeared around your lips and his balls.

He pulled back and slammed back in suddenly. His motion slowed as he came. He grunted, his breaths stuttered by the staggered rock of his pelvis. You clawed at the counter top and kicked until you could breathe again.

He slipped his cock from between your lips and his cum leaked from your mouth. You sat up and coughed. His hands were on your shoulders again. His fingers danced along your throat as if to ease your struggles.

“Come on, that’s just the first act,” He drew away and you glanced over your shoulder. “Turn around.”

You turned on the desk and he pulled your legs over the edge. He pushed your knees apart and stepped back to admire the view. You dug your nails into the lip of the counter to keep yourself from closing your legs.

“I know you’ve been dying to see this,” He grinned and pulled his shirt over his head.

His cock hung out of his pants. It twitched as he tossed his shirt at you. You caught it. It smelled like him. He shoved his pants down without pause and he hardened again. You dropped his shirt and looked away guiltily.

Had you not written this scene a dozen times over?

He was completely naked when you looked again. He came close, his hands on your knees as he knelt before you. You tried to pull your legs together but he held them apart. He shook his head and tutted.

“Just sit back and enjoy,” He licked his lips. “Trust me, it’s better than you could ever imagine.”

Your shock took over completely. You watched as he bowed his head and you felt his hot breath on your thighs. When his tongue met your pussy you gasped. He delved between your folds and swirled around your clit. Your nails went deeper into the wood and your thighs shook. It felt good. It shouldn’t, though.

He buried his face deeper and you watched his golden locks from above. He reached over blindly, his large hand found yours, and he guided it to the back of his head. He held it there a moment before letting go. You clung to him as he hands glided up your thighs and he framed your vee with thumb and index.

You arched your back and moaned. It was your declaration of surrender. You couldn’t resist it any longer. The heat stirred inside of you, the flames licking at your thighs and back. You urged Steve closer though he couldn’t possibly go any deeper.

His hands slipped down to the outside of your thighs. Your legs closed around his head and held him there. He tipped you slightly and you curled around him as he continued to lap. Your breaths mixed with throaty hums and you fell back.

You had one hand still on his head and the other in your hair as you cried out in a mighty climax. He didn’t stop until you were shaking across the counter. When at last his mouth left you, you shivered. A sudden coolness washed over your body. He stood and you looked at him through the haze.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you to your feet. You wavered and he spun you quickly. You caught yourself on the desk and he slapped your ass. “That’s it,” He purred. “You’re getting it now.”

He nudged your shoulder until you were bent entirely over the counter, your toes barely met the floor. He rubbed your ass and pulled your cheeks apart. His cock poked you as his hand slipped lower and he tickled just below your ass. You squirmed and he chuckled.

He felt around and his cock slipped lower as he bent his knees. He dragged his tip along your folds before prodding at your entrance. He shoved his hand between your legs and forced them apart.

He pushed inside and slowly stretched you around him. Your head shot up at the strain. A mix of pain and pleasure as he got deeper and deeper.

You whined as he bottomed out and his hips bucked almost instinctively. He hit your cervix and you cried out. He eased out and pushed back in. He repeated this again and again, his motion careful. Deliberate. He brought his pelvis flush to your ass and groaned.

“Fuck,” He slapped your ass again.

He drew back and slammed into you all at once. All restraint was lost and he thrust mercilessly. His pace was wild. You reached out to grab at the edge of the counter, your hips hitting the other painfully. The spark had caught and you felt the flame about to burst.

Your orgasm was surprising. More agony than pleasure. You whimpered and pushed your head into the counter as you heaved. You could barely breath as Steve never wavered. He fucked until you until your walls ached. Until they turned numb and you were nothing but a mewling fool before him.

He bent over your, his muscled torso against your sweaty back. He rutted atop you frantically. His hips jerked as his grunts deepened. His breath caught and he swore. He lifted himself off you and you felt the warmth spill down your ass and thigh.

You laid breathless as he panted behind you. He rubbed his cum into your skin with two fingers and you shook. You tried to push yourself up from the desk. He caught your hip and shoved you back down.

“Oh, we’re not even close to the finale,” He pinched your ass and you squeaked. “Not to mention the epilogue.”

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#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #fic #steve rogers fic #au #marvel #mcu #captain america #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #steve rogers #dark!fic #dark fic #dark!verse #darkverse

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aleciablogro-blog · 6 years

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Boala Lyme, împotriva căreia nu există în prezent vaccin, este cea mai frecventă boală transmisibilă infecțioasă focară din Europa, Asia și America de Nord. Boala este transmisă prin acarieni ixodici și, potrivit statisticilor anuale, incidența bolii Lyme a crescut de 25 de ori față de cifrele din 1982. Boala Lyme, uneori numită boala "invizibilă", este diagnosticată de simptome, incluzând, printre altele, cel mai caracteristic semn al bolii, eritemul inelar migrat, care este o erupție cutanată patognomonică la această boală.

Cum se transmite boala Lyme?

Deoarece mulți pacienți cu boala Lyme nu menționează mușcătura de căpușe, unii experți consideră că borelia poate fi transmisă de alte insecte, țânțari, păianjeni, purici și scabie. Centrul pentru Controlul și Prevenirea Bolilor refuză această opinie, în plus, în prezent nu există informații fiabile cu privire la posibilitatea transmiterii bolii Lyme de la persoană la persoană, prin mânuirea, sărutul sau contactul sexual cu un pacient.

Info: daca ai fost muscat de o capusa, vezi aici un ghid despre cum se poate scoate capusa din piele. În ceea ce privește transmisia verticală (de la mamă la făt), nu există o opinie fără echivoc. Boala Lyme, dobândită în timpul sarcinii, poate duce la infecții transplacentare și la moartea posibilă a fătului. Cu toate acestea, nu au existat cazuri de impact negativ al bolii infecțioase asupra fătului în cazul în care femeilor gravide li s-au prescris terapie antibacteriană. Nu există, de asemenea, date privind cazurile de infecție prin laptele matern. S-au obținut date privind capacitatea boreliei de a rămâne viabilă în sângele donator conservat, motiv pentru care persoanele care suferă de boala Lyme nu au voie să doneze sânge. În ciuda existenței bolii Lyme la câini și pisici, nu există nicio dovadă a posibilității unei infecții directe a gazdei de la animalele de companie. Util: vezi aici cum poti scoate o capusa in siguranta, cu penseta Diagnosticul cel mai comun al bolii Lyme se bazează pe simptome patognomonice și informații despre posibilele contacte cu acarienii.

Simptome clinice și diagnosticarea bolii Lyme Ca și în cazul altor boli infecțioase, cu boala Lyme, se așteaptă ca serodiagnosticul în primele săptămâni de boală să producă rezultate negative. La câteva săptămâni de la infectare, un imunotest enzimatic (ELISA) poate dezvălui anticorpi la B. burgdorferi. În cazul unui rezultat pozitiv ELISA, pentru confirmarea diagnosticului se utilizează un test Western blot. Specificitatea și fiabilitatea acestor teste de laborator depind de stadiul bolii. La locul mușcăturii de căpușe, există, de obicei, papule hiperemice mici. Astfel de papule sunt o reacție normală la o mușcătura de căpușe, și nu un simptom specific al bolii Lyme. Cu toate acestea, în următoarele zile, zona de hiperemie poate crește odată cu formarea erupțiilor cutanate patognomonice Lyme sub formă de eritem migrator în formă de inel, cu un inel roșu strălucitor exterior care înconjoară zona pielii cu culoare neschimbată. În același timp, la mulți pacienți, erupția cutanată nu are o natură pronunțată patognomonică, la unii pacienți elementele erupției cutanate apar pe mai multe zone ale pielii. Astfel de simptome asemănătoare gripei, cum ar fi febră, frisoane, letargie și o durere de cap, pot însoți simptomele pielii. În absența tratamentului adecvat, procesul infecțios se extinde asupra articulațiilor, a mușchiului inimii și a sistemului nervos. În această etapă, simptomele bolii includ dureri severe ale articulațiilor și umflături. Legăturile genunchiului sunt cele mai vulnerabile, deși durerea poate migra. În câteva săptămâni, luni sau chiar ani după infecție, la pacienți se poate dezvolta meningita, paralizia temporară a unei jumătăți a feței (paralizia Bellului), slăbiciunea membrelor și diverse tulburări ale funcțiilor motorii. La câteva săptămâni după boală, un număr de pacienți dezvoltă simptome mai puțin tipice, cum ar fi: aritmii cardiace de durată, de regulă, nu mai mult de câteva zile sau săptămâni; conjunctivita sau episclerita; hepatita; slăbiciune severă. Tratament pentru Boala Lyme Utilizarea timpurie a terapiei cu antibiotice, ca regulă, conduce la o recuperare rapidă și completă a pacienților. Majoritatea pacienților care au fost tratați în perioade ulterioare de boală răspund de asemenea bine terapiei cu antibiotice, deși pot reține simptome persistente din sistemul nervos și articulațiilor. La 10-20% dintre pacienți, simptome precum slăbiciune, dureri musculare, disomie și tulburări de gândire, persistă chiar și după încheierea unui ciclu complet de tratament cu antibiotice. Cu aceste simptome, pacienții nu sunt eligibili pentru tratamentul pe termen lung cu medicamente antibacteriene, dar în timp ei observă o ameliorare fără o terapie suplimentară. În conformitate cu recomandările Clinicii Mayo, SUA, tratamentul antibiotic pe cale orală este terapia standard pentru boala Lyme în perioada precoce a bolii. Adulților și copiilor cu vârsta peste 8 ani li se recomandă să ia doxiciclină, la copiii mici, la femeile gravide și la cele care alăptează, să utilizeze amoxicilină sau cefuroximă. Administrarea parenterală a antibioticelor este recomandată atunci când implică sistemul nervos central în procesul infecțios. Această terapie este o metodă eficientă de eliminare a unui agent infecțios din organism, deși poate dura ceva timp pentru a elimina complet simptomele bolii. În absența unui vaccin împotriva bolii Lyme, prevenirea boreliozelor include utilizarea de repelenți specifici și îndepărtarea imediată a căpușelor la detectare.

Mimeticitatea clinică Patognomonică pentru boala Lyme, eritemul inelar migrat este absent la mai mult de jumătate dintre pacienți, iar mai puțin de jumătate dintre pacienți notează mușcătura de căpușe. Conform unor date, această parte a pacienților nu poate depăși 15%. Specialiștii consideră că boala Lyme este un "mare imitator", deoarece boala imită alte boli, cum ar fi scleroza multiplă, artrita autoimună și reactivă, sindromul de oboseală cronică, fibromialgia și boala Alzheimer. În același timp, mulți pacienți arată destul de sănătoși, nu se detectează anticorpi la agentul cauzal al bolii cu serodiagnosticare. De aceea, boala Lyme este numită adesea o boală "invizibilă". Istoria bolii Lyme In cazul in care va intereseaza si putina istorie, aici sunt cateva informatii despre aceasta afectiune icnepand de la data la care ea a fost descoperita prima data: În 1975, un grup de copii și adulți din regiunea Lyme din Connecticut, SUA, au prezentat simptome asemănătoare atipice ale artritei. În 1977, 51 de cazuri de artrită Lyme sau Lym-artrita au fost diagnosticate. Etiologia bolii a fost considerată o boală transmisibilă infecțioasă și asociată cu mușcăturile de capuse. În 1982, Willy Burgdorfer a identificat agentul cauzal al acestei boli infecțioase, a fost o Borrelia din familia spirocheților, numită după omul de știință Borrelia burgdorferi. În timpul muscării unei căpușe infectate cu Borrelia burgdorferi, agentul patogen intră în sângele unei persoane. Forma de tirbușon îi permite să fie fixată și încorporată într-o varietate de țesuturi ale corpului, care este cauza leziunilor multiorganice și multi-sistemice în borelioza. S-a stabilit că există 5 serotipuri principale de Borrelia burgdorferi, care numără mai mult de 100 tulpini diferite în SUA și mai mult de 300 în întreaga lume. Multe dintre ele au dezvoltat rezistență la o serie de medicamente antibacteriene. Diagnosticul serologic de borelioză a devenit disponibil din 1984. In 1997 a apărut primul vaccin împotriva bolii Lyme, dar după 4 ani, producătorii au retras vaccinul de pe piață. Read the full article

#cumscotocapusa #DespreBoalaLyme

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