#steve rogers x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: I am still dizzy her and there but feeling a bit better.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wouldn’t call it doom scrolling. That’s not what this is. You try not to search out the depressing headlines or the studies of the human character assuring you of your race’s inherent flaws. Yet, all those boastful posts about engagements, weddings, and promotions still make you feel crummy. 

Jealous? Sure. You don’t have any of those things and it isn’t as if you can hope for as much, either. You’re in a dead-end job, living in cramped apartment with your sister and her irresponsible friend, and your romantic life is next to non-existent; not that you’ve been looking. None of that is meant for you, otherwise, you’d have had some glimmer of interest by now. 

It’s like quicksand. Not very quick but it pulls you down lower and lower. Sinking and sinking until all you can see is the muck. There’s no way out now, you’re waist deep in it. 

You click under your favourite communities and start a new post. You don’t make many. Mostly you read and judge silently. You’re a lurker. Like in many facets of your life. You watch, you don’t do. But you’ve had a shitty day and you need to just let it out. 

Your fingers move as your thoughts boil in your head; your nagging manager, your lazy landlord, and your immature roommates. Nothing ever goes your way. Everyone else has it figured out and you’re just left to rot. You try! You do. Resumes, profiles on friendship apps, online courses; free, of course, it’s all you can afford, but you do try to improve yourself. It just doesn’t work. 

You hit ‘post’ and close the lid of your ancient laptop. It’s as thick as a book. The battery doesn’t hold a charge and the fan is as loud as a jet. You fall back onto your bed and look around your tiny room. That’s all you have. This space is as much as you can call your own and not really. You rent it, it can be taken away with one of those red stamped notices. 

You yawn and drag yourself up. A whole shift and you didn’t bother to have more than the bland break room coffee spewed from the off-brand pod machine and a couple sticks of gum. Tia got herself sushi before her shift but she can just ask her parents to send her money to cover her Door Dash addiction. 

You plod out to the kitchen. Your sister closes the fridge and cracks the tab of a beer can. You’re sure it isn’t her first.  

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Shea bobbles her head. 

Funny since Donna pretty much hollered at you for interrupting her TV show. You all pitched in on the flat screen yet it’s never your turn with it. You shrug and go to the cupboard. It’s not sushi but the spicy shrimp ramen isn’t too bad... 

“You work?” You ask. 

“Pfft, no. Didn’t I say I was going to lunch with Mason?” 

“Did you?” You take down at bowl. She probably did. You never remember. She’s always got a date or a party or a fall back. If she can’t make rent, she’ll smile a cute guy and get some money. 

“He bought me some shoes! You’ll never believe.” 

“Right,” you try not to seethe. 

You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’re eating sodium-laced noodles and holding back tears against old people wanting to print out their life story from a corrupt PDF. She’s pretty. She doesn’t have to try. Shea is all the proof you need that some people are just lucky. 

You put the electric kettle onto boil and the smell of burnt—something makes your lip curl. You pop the lid and look inside. It’s brown. What the hell? 

“What’s wrong with this?” You ask as you flip off the switch. 

“Donna!” Shea yells, “what did you do to the kettle?” No answer. Your sister hollers again. 

A door swings open and Donna stomps out with a huff. Her face is green as she has a mask spread over it and eye masks pasted beneath her lashes. 

“I’m getting ready--” 

“The kettle stinks,” you reach for a pot and find none. They’re all stacked and waiting to be washed. You snatch one off the top and flip on the faucet. 

“Oh, I heated up some bone broth in it. I’m doing a cleanse,” she smirks. “Tasted kinda weird.” 

“Bone broth?” You scoff. See. You try, they can’t even clean dishes. “Great.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine, just rinse it out,” Shea says. 

You scrub the pan and ignore her. You glance up as she slurps noisily from the can. Pre-drinks. Her and Donna are going out. Again. They can afford to because they don’t buy their own drinks. They don’t need to. You went out with them once and paid for all of your own, even though you’d have been happy enough with a single round. 

“Have fun,” you dry out the pan and slam it on the burner. 

“Jeez, maybe you should loosen up?” Donna chides. 

“Yeah, come with us. Dance it out,” Shea drawls. 

“No thanks,” you twist the knob and light the burner. “I have work tomorrow.” 

“Call innnnn,” Shea insists. 

“I can’t,” you sniff and step back to wait for the water to boil. 

“Boring,” she chirps. 

“Yep, I am,” you cross your arms. Your annoyed. When the go out, you’ll have to clean up this mess. You can’t handle another bout of fruit flies. 

You put the noodles in and let them soften. You stir in the oil and powder then retreat to your room with the bowl of boiling cholesterol. You let it cool and put a video on your phone. You don’t want to think. 

You eat deliberately. You savour the processed flavouring. You can’t go out sneak a midnight snack; Donna ate all your cookies. You label all your stuff in thick marker and she apparently can’t read. 

You hear them leave. They’re loud. They leave the television on. At high volume. 

You go out and shut it off. You need to sleep soon. Opening always comes after a late shift. Otherwise, how else would the corporation keep you disempowered. 

You open your laptop. You’ll but on some lo-fi while you charge your phone. Heck, the fan is like white noise on its own. 

The little red number at the bottom of the page stops you. You left the browser open. Someone actually responded to your post. You click and your stomach drops as you read the first sentence. 

‘Sounds like you cause a lot of your own problems. Maybe try some mindful exercises and get out more. You should also consider making some friends.’ 

You read it over and over. You’re angry. Hurt, too. But most that first thing. You can’t stop from replying. 

‘You got all that from me venting? I wasn’t asking for advice. I walk to and from work and I have friends.’ 

It’s mostly true. You do walk. Most days. And your sister is a friend, isn’t she? By association, so is Donna. 

Before you can look up your favourite twelve-hour lo-fi, another notification pops up. 

‘Looking at your post history, your diet could use some improvements. More veggies. And walking is a good starting point but you need to increase your endorphins. I’d be happy to send you some helpful guides. They’re easily searchable on the internet. We live in the age of information, you should consider taking advantage of that.’ 

Wow, what an asshole. He’s smug and obviously better than you. You click on his username and scroll through. Just as you expect. He posts in fitness communities. Not any videos of him but sharing tutorials and recipes for high-protein smoothies and fibre-laced juices. He wouldn’t know flavour if it puked in his mouth. 

You his ‘esc’ and go back to your own post; ‘thanks for the advice. Have a good one.; 

That’s it. You’re not arguing with some faceless douche on the internet. His response is as quick as the first. 

‘A helpful link.’ He hyperlinks the words. ‘You should at least stretch in the morning and go outside on your breaks at work. You might work long shifts but it’s no excuse to be lazy. If you’ve been in that role for so long, you should have more than enough references to move on to something that doesn’t make you miserable.’ 

You don’t answer. You know if you do, you’ll just embarrass yourself. Judging by the few pics of his real life and his cadence, he’s got everything. He just thinks it’s a matter of mindset. There can’t possibly be anything else which could make things more difficult for people. You just don’t work hard enough. Duh, everyone always says so. 

You close out of the page. If he replies again, you’ll block him. Simple as. You put on a lo-fi track and dim the screen. You roll over and tuck into bed. You fall asleep in a ball of stress; you have to wake up, shower, do all that human stuff, then make yourself face another eight hours of hell. 

⭐

“I hate working at the fucking copy desk,” you hiss as you take your bag from the cubby in the break room. “Good luck.” 

Darcy gives you a look as she sits at one of the tables, waiting for her shift to start. You grit your teeth as you should your purse and grip your jacket tight. You punch your employee number into the clock then head out. 

As you march down the aisle of toner, a customer tries to stop you. “I’m off duty.” 

“But I need a keyboard.” 

You ignore them and keep going. 

“I’m going to tell a manager, young lady!” 

You don’t care. Besides, why are they looking for a keyboard in the toner aisle. The signs above with the giant letters clearly show that the computer accessories are in the opposite corner. 

People are stupid. They might be able to read, technically, but they definitely lack comprehension. Just like Donna who can’t keep her hands off your snacks. 

You walk home in a simmer. If you let your temper get away from you, you won’t be able to hold back when you walk into the inevitable shit show waiting for you at home. Shea and Donna hungover, probably having got into more of your sparse groceries, and amidst a brand new mess for you to tidy. You won’t not this time. 

You have a mission. Go to your room and don’t come out. 

As you enter your building, you find the elevator non-responsive. A tiny post-it is stuck to the doors. ‘Out of Order’. Couldn’t have made something a bit more legible? 

You take the stairs. The hallway smells like onion and dirty clothes. You take out your keys as you get to your door, ignoring the rabble coming from the apartment next to yours. Before you can get your key in the slot, the door opens. 

“Heyyyy, she’s back,” Shea greets. You blink at her in confusion. Is she already drunk again? 

“Starting already?” You ask as you try to get past her. 

“Hm, no,” she says tritely, “you have a guest.” 

You roll your eyes, “don’t be a bitch, alright?” 

“No, really,” she grins. You stop and look her up and down. She isn’t falling apart like usual after a Friday night. Her hair is done, her makeup too, and she’s not in her sweats.  

“Is it mom?” You whisper. 

She snorts, “you’re stupid. No, it’s your friend. Steve.” She backs up with a shimmy, “I think some people call him Captain.” 

You make a face. What? 

“Who...” 

“Ahem,” a figure appears by the corner of the kitchen counter, “I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

You crane to see over Shea’s shoulder. The man behind her is tall. And familiar. Steve Rogers. Your expression contorts as your lashes flutter in confusion. 

“Not at all, Stevie,” Shea spins, “I’ll give you two the room. So nice to meet you.” 

She squeezes by him and touches his forearm as she does. He doesn’t react. She giggles and flits off. Her door shuts but you can tell that the latch didn’t catch. She’s listening. 

“Should we go outside? Get some sun?” He asks. 

You glance at him again. You’re lost. 

“Do I know you?” You grimace. 

“After all day under fluorescent, you should really get out--” 

“I-- I’m sorry, can you slow down and explain--” 

“Outside. Privately,” he says. 

You peek past him then look into the hallway behind you. You search your mind for an explanation. The only place you know him from is the internet or a history book. 

“Like I said before, going outside can really help with mood issues.” 

You hesitate and your mouth falls open. It can’t be... 

“Was that you? Last night?” You shake your head. 

“How about I buy you a smoothie?” He offers. 

You snap your mouth shut. He can’t be serious. This can’t be real. 

[glennussy]

time to spend my valentine's day single and curled in bed reading x reader fics :)

ahahahaha i hate myself

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

「 take her under your wing AU 」

warnings: innocent!reader x various, stepbro!steve rogers, bucky barnes, professor!peter parker, ari levinson, marc spector, ransom drysdale, curtis everett, lloyd hansen, andy barber, thor odinson, scott lang, miguel o'hara, frank castle, billy russo, dark content, college au, polyamory

polls for this au: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

101, an intro to the au | pinterest board

masterlist | join my taglist 

[COMING SOON]

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[mintyys-blog]

VICTORIAS SECRET— steve rogers

WARNINGS: smut

Steve Rogers was used to surprises. Time travel? Sure. Aliens? No problem. But the one thing he never saw coming was his girlfriend keeping a secret this big.

You had been dating for a few months now, and while Steve was perceptive, he was also a gentleman—meaning he never pried too much into your career. You had told him you worked in fashion, and he had taken it at face value, picturing you behind the scenes: maybe as a stylist or a designer. Never once had he imagined you were the one on the runway.

So when you invited him to your latest fashion event, he accepted with a smile, completely unaware of what was in store.

“Just a little show,” you had said nonchalantly. “It would mean a lot if you came.”

Of course, he had agreed instantly. Supporting you was a given.

That’s how Steve Rogers—former Captain America, super soldier, Brooklyn’s own—found himself sitting front row at a Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, surrounded by flashing cameras, celebrities, and a sea of impossibly gorgeous women strutting down the catwalk in delicate lace and silk.

To say he was stunned would be an understatement.

His blue eyes widened as the realization hit him like a freight train. You were a model. And not just any model—a Victoria’s Secret Angel.

A hush fell over the crowd as the lights dimmed for the next set. Music pulsed through the venue, and suddenly, there you were.

Steve swore his heart stopped.

Dressed in a sultry, lace ensemble, your wings framing you like something ethereal, you walked with effortless grace. Confidence radiated off you, your expression poised yet alluring.

And then—your eyes locked onto his.

Steve felt his throat go dry. He was certain his ears were burning, but he couldn’t look away. The little smirk playing on your lips told him everything.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

As you reached the edge of the runway, you gave him the briefest wink before pivoting and walking back, leaving him reeling.

Bucky, who had somehow ended up in the seat beside him, leaned in with an amused chuckle. “You good, pal? You look like you just walked into battle without a shield.”

Steve blinked, exhaling sharply as he raked a hand through his hair. “She—she never told me.”

“That she’s a model?”

“That she’s this kind of model.” His voice was hoarse, filled with a mix of awe, admiration, and something else entirely.

Bucky smirked, patting his shoulder. “Well, Rogers, looks like you’ve been dating an Angel and didn’t even know it.”

Steve barely heard him. His focus was entirely on you.

And the second this show was over—he and you were going to have a very interesting conversation.

The second the show ended, Steve was already on his feet.

He maneuvered through the crowd with practiced ease, ignoring the lingering flashes of cameras and the murmurs of models and celebrities. He had only one thing on his mind—you.

Backstage was a whirlwind of chaos. Makeup artists, designers, and models fluttered about in silk robes, celebrating the success of the night. But the moment you spotted Steve, standing rigid with those piercing blue eyes locked onto you, a thrill shot down your spine.

You had expected surprise. You had even expected mild disbelief. But what you hadn’t expected was this particular look—half awe, half something darker.

“Steve,” you greeted smoothly, pulling the tie of your robe a little tighter. “Enjoy the show?”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “That depends. Are we gonna talk about the fact that my girlfriend is a Victoria’s Secret Angel, and I had no damn clue?”

You chuckled, stepping closer. “I don’t know, Rogers. You handled finding out about aliens and time travel just fine. But this?” You gestured down at yourself. “This one got you, huh?”

His jaw tightened, and you swore you saw his Adam’s apple bob as his gaze flickered down, just for a second. “You could’ve told me.”

“Would you have come if I had?”

Steve hesitated. You had him there.

“You always thought I worked in fashion,” you continued, tilting your head. “I just never corrected you.”

His arms crossed over his broad chest, his stance unwavering. “That’s called lying by omission, sweetheart.”

You grinned, stepping even closer until you were toe-to-toe with him. The backstage chaos faded into white noise as the tension crackled between you.

“You mad?” you murmured, trailing a finger down the buttons of his shirt.

His breath hitched.

“No,” he admitted, voice rough. “Just—” He exhaled, his large hands landing firmly on your waist, fingers pressing into the soft silk of your robe. “Jesus, doll. You nearly gave me a heart attack out there.”

You smirked, looping your arms around his neck. “I think you handled it just fine. Although…” Your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you whispered, “You should’ve seen your face when I winked at you.”

Steve groaned, his grip on you tightening. “You did that on purpose.”

“Of course I did.”

His fingers skimmed your lower back, pulling you just a fraction closer. His voice dropped to something that sent heat straight to your core. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe.” You brushed a slow kiss to his jaw. “But so are you.”

His sharp inhale told you all you needed to know.

Bucky’s voice suddenly cut through the haze. “Alright, lovebirds. Get a room. Preferably not this one, because half of New York is watching.”

You laughed softly against Steve’s skin, but he just turned, leveling Bucky with a glare. “You got somewhere else to be, Barnes?”

Bucky smirked. “Nah, I think I’ll stick around. Watching Cap get flustered is gold.”

Steve sighed, turning back to you. “We’re leaving.”

His fingers laced with yours, firm and possessive, as he all but guided you toward the exit.

As you followed, you leaned in, voice sultry and teasing. “And where exactly are we going, Captain?”

Steve’s smirk was slow, his voice laced with promise. “Home. Where you and I are really gonna talk about this.”

Your stomach flipped at the look in his eyes.

Maybe—just maybe—keeping this little secret had been entirely worth it.

The car ride home was charged.

Steve hadn’t said much since pulling you out of the venue. He sat beside you in the backseat, one arm slung casually over the seat, the other resting on his thigh. But there was nothing casual about the way his fingers tapped against his knee or the way his jaw remained clenched, as if he were forcing himself to keep his thoughts in check.

You, on the other hand, were thriving on the tension.

With a playful smirk, you turned to him. “You’ve been quiet.”

Steve flicked his eyes toward you. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

His fingers twitched. “About how my girlfriend walked in front of a few million people in nothing but lace and a pair of wings—without telling me first.”

You bit back a grin. “Ah. That.”

“Yes. That.”

You tilted your head. “Let me guess—you didn’t like it?”

His blue eyes darkened. “That’s not the problem.”

Your pulse jumped.

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair before finally looking at you fully. “You’re… you. Of course, you looked incredible. That’s not what got me.”

You arched a brow. “Then what did?”

He leaned in, his voice low. “Every single guy in that room was looking at you like that.”

Your smirk grew. “That?”

His jaw ticked. “Like they wanted you.”

You hummed, tilting your body slightly toward him. “But they don’t have me.”

Steve’s nostrils flared.

The car slowed as the driver pulled up to your apartment. Steve was out first, rounding the car before you even reached for the handle. He opened the door for you, his hand immediately settling against the small of your back as he guided you toward the building.

His touch was warm. Firm.

Possessive.

The second you stepped inside your apartment, he closed the door behind you, locking it with a soft click.

You barely had a second to turn before Steve was on you.

He pressed you gently but firmly against the door, his hands bracing on either side of you. His scent—clean, masculine, laced with a hint of cologne—wrapped around you as his broad frame towered over yours.

Your breath hitched.

His voice was low, steady. “You enjoy driving me insane, don’t you?”

Your fingers trailed up his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath. “A little bit.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, but his eyes burned with something deeper. “You’re impossible.”

You grinned. “And yet, here you are.”

Steve’s hand brushed down your arm, his fingers skimming the silk of your robe. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles on your wrist, the feather-light touch sending a shiver up your spine.

“Do you have any idea what you did to me tonight?” he murmured.

Your pulse pounded. “Why don’t you tell me, Captain?”

His breath fanned against your cheek as he leaned in, lips just shy of yours. “Oh, sweetheart…” His voice was a promise. A warning.

And then—his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, teasing. But when you sighed against his mouth, melting into him, something in him snapped.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing you further into the door.

You gasped when his lips trailed down, skimming your jaw, your throat. “Steve—”

“Hmm?” His lips hovered over your pulse point.

You shivered. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

He chuckled against your skin. “No, sweetheart.” His fingers traced the silk of your robe, toying with the belt. “But you are in trouble.”

Heat pooled in your stomach. “Oh?”

His lips ghosted over yours once more, his blue eyes dark and smoldering.

“Oh.”

Your breath hitched as Steve’s fingers toyed with the knot of your silk robe, his touch feather-light yet deliberate. His lips barely brushed against yours—teasing, waiting.

Your heart pounded. “What kind of trouble are we talking about?”

Steve’s smirk was slow, wicked. “The kind where you make me lose my mind in public and I return the favor in private.”

Your stomach flipped.

His hand traced down your side, dragging along the soft silk, his fingertips igniting heat beneath your skin. “You knew exactly what you were doing tonight, didn’t you?”

You grinned. “I might’ve had an idea.”

His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to him. “Watching you up there, knowing everyone was looking at you…” His voice was rough, laced with something darker. “I won’t lie, sweetheart. It got to me.”

You bit your lip, eyes dancing with mischief. “You jealous, Captain?”

His fingers tightened ever so slightly on your waist. “Not jealous.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he murmured, “Possessive.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

His hands slid to your hips, gripping just enough to make you gasp. “You walked that runway like you owned the world,” he murmured, his nose skimming your jaw. “Like you knew every man in that room wanted you.”

Your lips curled. “Maybe I was thinking about someone specific.”

His breath hitched. “Yeah?”

You nodded, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. “Maybe I was wondering how fast my boyfriend would drag me home the second the show ended.”

Steve groaned, his forehead pressing against yours for a beat. His control was slipping, and you loved it.

“I should make you pay for that,” he muttered.

You grinned. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

His blue eyes darkened, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, sweetheart…” His fingers curled around the belt of your robe, giving it a slow, deliberate tug.

“I’ll show you.”

Steve’s eyes were dark with desire as he scooped you up effortlessly, his arms strong as he carried you toward the bedroom. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, feeling the heat between you escalate. He kicked the door open with his foot and gently lowered you onto the bed. His gaze never left you, a quiet, burning intensity in his eyes as he followed you down.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip and rise, as if he were savoring the moment. He took his time, undressing you slowly, deliberately—piece by piece—like he was uncovering a masterpiece. Every inch of skin revealed made his touch more reverent, more eager.

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, eyes tracing the lines of your body. His fingers lingered on your skin, worshiping every contour, every soft curve. “You’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

You shivered under his touch, biting your lip as his hands slid lower, brushing against your chest. His thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to your core. A loud moan escaped you, your back arching involuntarily.

“Steve… please…” Your voice was breathless, needy.

His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’ve got you, baby. Just relax.” His hand moved lower, tracing your body as though he couldn’t get enough.

He paused, pulling away just long enough to reach into his pocket, pulling out a condom and tearing the wrapper with practiced ease. His eyes never left yours as he prepared, his expression filled with something feral. You could feel your pulse racing in anticipation.

When he finally positioned himself above you, he slid inside slowly, filling you completely. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever experienced—stretching you, filling you in ways that made your breath catch. You gasped, your nails digging into his back as you adjusted to the fullness of him.

Steve groaned, his voice low and strained. “God, you feel so good.” He moved slowly at first, savoring every inch of connection. But as you urged him on, your body begging for more, he picked up the pace, the rhythm between you growing frantic, desperate.

Every thrust hit spots you didn’t even know existed, sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. It was overwhelming, the waves of ecstasy crashing down on you, filling you with a sensation that made your entire body tremble.

“Steve… don’t stop. Please,” you gasped, your voice shaky. “I need you. Now.”

His name tumbled from your lips in a desperate cry, louder with each passing second, and when he finally brought you over the edge, your body tensed as the pleasure consumed you. The connection between you two felt like the very air around you was crackling with electricity.

Steve’s pace faltered, his body shuddering as he reached his own release. He collapsed beside you, pulling you close, his breath ragged, his forehead pressed against yours.

“That… was beyond anything I ever thought possible,” he breathed, his hands still running over your skin as if to remind himself that you were real, right there with him.

You smiled softly, still catching your breath. “I don’t think I’ll be walking straight for days,” you teased, though your heart was still racing from the intensity of it all.

Steve chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because I don’t think I’ll be letting you go anytime soon.”

You snuggled into his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace, both of you savoring the stillness that followed the storm.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Squeaky Clean 9

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

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

Character: Steve Rogers

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

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

He's on you again. Just like before, you can't stop him. Steve is behind you, an arm hooked beneath you, his other hand nestled against your pelvis as he plucks your clit.

You heave and cling to the pillow beneath your head. He pumps into you as he keeps your leg propped over his. He impales you with sharp snaps only to drag himself out slowly. Your walls are tender and twitching with each torturous thrust.

You swallow your orgasm. Shame sears over you as you squeeze him without meaning to. He grunts and spasms as he cums. Again. You just want it to end.

He's made a mess of more than your bed and body. He's ruined your life. You were just trying to get by. To make an honest living. Now... you don't know what's going to happen.

He buries himself in you and sighs. He relaxes and keeps his arms around you. He rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You lay over him, limp and defeated. His hands rove up and down your body, fondling your chest then kneading your thighs. He's greedy without end.

"You should start packing," he rasps and wiggles his hips. "Mmm, but you feel so good on me."

Your eyes widen as the ceiling and you feel another sheet of tears stinging. Your skin crawls and your heart thumps. He inhales deeply.

"I can hear that," he sits up with you still on him. "You don't have to be scared, sweetheart. I'm going to take care of you."

He frames your hips and rocks you in his lap. He purrs and keeps you moving. You whimper at achiness inside of you. You put your hands on his to keep from folding. He nuzzles the back of your head and drones.

"You're so good, feel what you do to me..."

You close your eyes and breathe through the agony. He doesn't stop. He tilts your hips until he tenses. He climaxes again and it drips out onto him. He pets your hair and pulls you to lean against him.

"Let's go home, huh?"

You murmur as shifts you with him to the edge of the bed. He slides you off his length with a groan and stands you up. His cum spills down your leg and you shiver. He grips you a moment longer before letting you go. You reach to wipe your thigh and he tuts.

"Baby, I want you to leave it. I want you wearing me until we get home. We can take a nice bath together and get washed up."

You retract your hand and swallow your disgust. His cum cools to stick streaks and squicks along the creases of your thighs. You don't know if you're more repulsed by him or your own weakness.

"Let's see," he stands and taps your ass lightly as he passes you, "what are you gonna wear?" He slides open your dresser and searches around. He stirs around your panties and shakes his head. "I need to buy you some cute stuff, huh? Maybe some thongs?"

He pulls open the next drawer and the next. He finds a tee shirt dress that doesn't go far past your thighs. You don't really wear it as more than something to be lazy in.

"Here," he tosses it to you.

You stare at him and hug the fabric.

"You don't need a bra, sweetheart," he winks.

You tuck your chin down and pull it over your head. You tug it as far down your legs as you can. He continues to ravage your belongings. You watch him gather things into a bag. Not everything, just what he thinks is necessary.

"Gonna get you new everything," he promises. "To go with your new men."

He smiles at you. You feel faint. He's still naked and completely shameless.

He zips up the slack duffel. You try not to show your distaste. As scared as you are, you're angry too. How can he do this and still act like a hero?

"Stop pouting or I'll have to fuck a smile onto your face," he warns.

Your lips part then you force them to curve. You turn and look around. You find some shoes and step into them. His demeanour tells you, you won't be seeing this place again.

He dresses and groans as he stretches out his neck and shoulders. He hooks the bag on his shoulder and approaches you. He sighs again as he balls then opens his hands.

"I feel good. More... relaxed," he steps into his boots. "I needed that."

You stare at him. You're a disaster. Just like your life. He doesn't seem to care about any of that.

"Come on, sweetheart," he opens the door. "Won't it be nice to be home?"

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

take her under your wing 101

an intro to the au

here is a comprehensive little breakdown of this AU and its main characters. 

au masterlist | pinterest board

masterlist | join my taglist 

Y/n Y/l/n 

freshman student at Highridge University | biology (pre-med) major

precious little cinnamon roll | still has a few stuffed animals she just can't let go of yet, a little piece of comfort now that she is out of the nest and on her own (a few of them being Mr. Honey the bear, Bun Bun the bunny and Chocolate Milk the brown cow)

unlike her stepbro, she didn't just have everything handed to her since she was born | studying trumps a social life any day in her book

lives in a little dorm room at Manning Hall with her roomie Kate

last song listened to on spotify: futile devices (doveman remix) by Sufjan Stevens

Steve Rogers

senior student at Highridge University | political science major (pre-law) | member of Kappa Alpha Nu

Y/n's older stepbrother (he was a senior in high school when his dad and her mom got married)

golden boy | boxer | motorcycle rides at sunset | addicted to step fantasy porn (wonder why hehe)

last song listened to on spotify: break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored by Ariana Grande

James ’Bucky’ Barnes

senior student at Highridge University | journalism major | member of Kappa Alpha Nu | Highridge University football team

too many tattoos to count | used to endlessly tease Y/n about the crush she had on him, especially after his lifelong best friend became your stepbro, so his bullying could come to new heights

last song listened to on spotify: look at us now (honeycomb) by Daisy Jones and The Six

Dr. Peter Parker

professor at Highridge University | teaches a course about medical history

stressed single dad in desperate need of a nanny | father of 6-year-old Benjamin

lives in a house not too far from campus

last listened to song on spotify: when i kissed the teacher by ABBA

Ari Levinson

senior student at Highridge University | architecture major | Kappa Alpha Nu president | Highridge University football team

campus royalty | beefy bull of a man who secretly the softest of soft underneath all of that armour

last song listened to on spotify: closer than this by KAYE

Marc Spector

junior student at Highridge University | philosophy major | member of Kappa Alpha Nu

2 seconds away from just taking a semester off to backpack around the world

last song listened to on spotify: too close by Alex Clare

Hugh Ransom Drysdale

senior student at Highridge University | business major | member of Kappa Alpha Nu

cashmere sweaters and reckless decisions | his family donates enough to the school that he and his friends can get away with anything

last song listened to on spotify: maneater by Nelly Furtado

Curtis Everett

junior student at Highridge University | anthropology major | member of Kappa Alpha Nu

tattoos | boxer | beer pong champion

last song listened to on spotify: temperature by Sean Paul

Lloyd Hansen

senior student at Highridge University | finance major | member of Kappa Alpha Nu | captain of Highridge University's football team

future sugar daddy | once got married on a vegas trip to a complete stranger, but got divorced the very next morning

last song listened to on spotify: beep by The Pussycat Dolls

Andy Barber

senior student at Highridge University | political science major (pre-law) | Kappa Alpha Nu vice president

always the one to bail his fraternity brothers out of the trouble they get into

last song listened to on spotify: movement by Hozier

Thor Odinson

senior student at Highridge University | history major | member of Kappa Alpha Nu | Highridge University football team

in charge of the music at all of the parties at the frat house (DJ Thunder, pow pow!)

last song listened to on spotify: just a friend by Biz Markie

Scott Lang

sophomore student at Highridge University | engineering major | member of Kappa Alpha Nu

cheats on most tests even though he doesn't need to

last song listened to on spotify: baby i'm burnin' by Dolly Parton

Miguel O'Hara

senior student at Highridge University | computer science major | member of Kappa Alpha Nu | Highridge University football team

control freak with a short fuse

last song listened to on spotify: complicated by Avril Lavigne

Billy Russo

senior student at Highridge University | business major | member of Kappa Alpha Nu

the fuckboy™ | has slept with multiple professors in the name of bumping up his grades

last song listened to on spotify: work out by J. Cole

Frank Castle

senior student at Highridge University | literature major | member of Kappa Alpha Nu

grumpy but really just needs his dick sucked

last song listened to on spotify: when the sun goes down by Arctic Monkeys

Kate Bishop

freshmen student at Highridge University | sociology major (gender studies)

Y/n's roommate | Yelena's girlfriend

sk8er gurl | instant noodles queen

last song listened to on spotify: curious by Hayley Kiyoko

Yelena Belova

sophomore student at Highridge University | journalism major | member of Delta Phi

Kate's girlfriend | Natasha's little sister

horrible time management skills, always finishing and turning in assignments at the very last second 

last song listened to on spotify: dreams by The Cranberries

Natasha Romanoff

senior student at Highridge University | english major | Delta Phi president

Yelena's big sister

part of a secret society but shhhhh you can’t know about that 

last song listened to on spotify: ruby by Kaiser Cheifs

Wanda Maximoff

junior student at Highridge University | environmental science major | member of Delta Phi

part-time job at the campus coffee cart

last song listened to on spotify: sometimes by Britney Spears

Carol Danvers

senior student at Highridge University | criminology major | member of Delta Phi

at parties, she is either found doing a keg stand or sitting on the bathroom floor comforting a sobbing stranger, no in between 

last song listened to on spotify: crimson and clover by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

Gigi

resident cat at the Delta Phi sorority house

always up for a cuddle | goes through phases with who’s room she sleeps in at night and who’s she naps in during the day

last song listened to on spotify when her paws took over the controls: the goose steps high from the aristocats soundtrack

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[intrepidacious]

no but tell me why there are actual tears in my eyes and this is only chapter one 😭😭

How had he gone from being your soulmate to looking at you like he couldn’t remember all the mornings he woke up with you in his arms?

i need to gnaw at something

They’re probably still out there, plotting their revenge, and here I am, having destroyed the best thing in my life for nothing.

no because what gave you the damn right huh 😭😭😭 and then he goes and PULLS OUT A RING you get back here right now and fix this !!!!

On The Run (1)

Ex!Steve Rogers x Fem!Ex-SHIELD Agent!Reader

Series Masterlist | PART 2 > >

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend Steve Rogers needs somewhere to stay after breaking his friends out of the Raft prison in the Atlantic.

Warnings: angst, swearing, exes arguing with each other, unresolved feelings

Word count: 3.1k

Dividers by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Natasha asked as the group of ex-Avengers and criminals wanted by international law enforcement strolled up to an unassuming house.

“Do you have a better one?” Steve queried, quirking a brow as they walked up the steps to the front porch, a heavy sigh resounding throughout the group knowing they had finally made it to their desired location.

“No… But as much as I’ve missed her, do you really think she’ll be willing to help us?” These were questions Nat should have asked well before this moment, as her and Steve were planning their break-in to the Raft prison, not now when they had already completed their journey and were standing outside your house.

“She’ll help you - at least, that’s what I’m banking on.” Steve responded as he knocked on the front door, signalling their arrival.

Keep reading

[ronearoundblindly]

What is every Cevans characters favorite time of day for sexy time? 😏 who likes the morning sleeping sex? The nighttime sex before bed? Or the anytime - anywhere - does not matter 😆

ksdhuifkndiuviusf;iunrfknjfi

Yup.

😱🤭😈

Yussssss. Let's do it!

Warning for obvious sex talk lol. These are brief glimpses--nothing super explicit. MINORS DNI. There's plenty of all-age fic to read @ronearoundlightly, but this one isn't for you.

James Mace

No time of day preference but does have an amount of time preference since he likes to savor you. The absolute fastest 'quickie' Mace can manage is about 30 minutes, and frankly, that's still quite rushed for all he'd like to do.

Curtis Everett

Night owl, hardcore. LOVES to sleep in. Very frequently wants sex when you two are all ready for bed and almost asleep. That's when he's raring to go. Has zero problem with you mounting him in the morning if you're in the mood, but Curtis is quite lazy at that time. You'll have to do the work then 😉.

Jimmy Dobyne

First thing after a day's work before showering...and wouldn't mind you joining him for the shower. He doesn't like to moderate how 'dirty' any part of sex might be, so it's just easier to let it all happen and clean up later.

Johnny Storm

Discussed some here recently, but nighttime before bed, burns anxiety away & then he sleeps like a rock.

Jake Jensen

Sleepy Jake is *real.* (There's basically a whole thing about morning sex in Audio/Visual...and also how horny he gets at night. Okay, maybe just read that story, I guess.) Big picture answer is anytime you ever want. Do not hold back if you want him. Let's GO!!!

Lloyd Hansen

He only will when *he* wants, but Lloyd does love to know you want him...and then deny you. Teases 'sluts' who can't get enough of him. Likes to joke he's really the one whoring himself out. The truth is that sex is like a treat for Lloyd when he's high on the success of a job, so really whenever exactly his target is fucking dead is when Lloyd is DTF.

Ari Levinson

Anytime. Has a sweet spot for just rolling over and taking you, so technically 'anytime' in bed. The shower is great, too. Or the kitchen counter. Or the living room. Or his truck. So...anytime anywhere basically.

Ransom Drysdale

RoAR Ransom here, but General Ran is moody...he's really big on fucking after he feels slighted or belittled, it's both reassuring and punishing. Not huge on first thing in the morning; he prefers his alone time, his routine then, fucking hates morning breath. Since most family events end in the evening (or he would return from a night out with 'friends' late), that's the main time he's horny or in need of proving a point.

Andy Barber

lol Weekends. Wants to go slow mostly. Doesn't care what room or position. Very big fan of interrupting domestic situations to fuck, such as (in the show) changing clothes in the closet, watching a movie, cooking a meal, etc.

Steve Rogers

FRI Steve and Hideout Steve previously discussed, but General Steve is a traditionalist. The safe answer is after dinner, not strictly right before sleep. He's a wind-down-from-the-day love maker which should surprise absolutely no one.

Bucky Barnes

Loves the super close quiet & whispering in the cocoon of covers, just you two matter in the whole world, that soft time first thing in the morning when you wake up is his favorite. Over time Bucky also realizes he's a sucker for a good nooner. There's another layer of pleasure when not away from home, not busy with work, his own person in his own head, and free to enjoy you while being himself.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Who Would... Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

For those on the taglist below, I didn't do tags for every Who Would this week because some were so damn small. Please check @ronearoundlibrary for those in case you missed any.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby

@buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries @veryprairieberry

@bitchy-bi-trash @rogersbarber @blogbog710 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thiquefunlover63 @stellar-solar-flare

[mcntsee]

me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst

[that1geek06]

"English isn't my-"

Hush now my friend, and let me read the absolute beauty of a fic that you have bestowed this world and humiliated the first English speakers with

[hazzspazidiot]

I like how the reader is independent and stands for herself along with the polygamy negotiations and open communication. Not a lot of fics explore that, so that's something i absolutely loved. Reading this series was so satisfactory

Restitution Master List

Restitution

Characters: Ari Levinson, Steve Rogers, Andy Barber

Summary: The loan shark fell in love... but so did his brother. And the other brother? He's a ghost from her past.

The enforcer, Steve Rogers is the oldest of the Barber brothers. His poor health caused his mafia family to reject him as an infant, and he was sent to live with an Aunt in Brooklyn.

The loan shark, Ari Barber is the youngest. He's a wild child who came back from his wanderlust travels to help his family when circumstances demanded.

The boss, Andy Barber wanted a life free of the Irish Mafia. He almost escaped before the mantle of leadership was thrust on him. The woman he left is haunted by his betrayal. Will she forgive him?

Chapter List

Restitution - Chapter One

Restitution - Chapter Two

Restitution - Chapter Three

Restitution - Chapter Four 🔥

Restitution - Chapter Five 🔥

Restitution - Chapter Six 🔥

Restitution- Chapter Seven 🔥

Restitution - Chapter Eight

Restitution - Chapter Nine 🔥

Restitution - Chapter Ten 🔥

Restitution - Chapter Eleven

Restitution - Chapter Twelve 🔥

Restitution Chapter Thirteen

Restitution Chapter Fourteen

Restitution Chapter Fifteen

Restitution - Chapter Sixteen 🔥

Restitution - Chapter Seventeen

Restitution - Chapter Eighteen

Restitution - Chapter Nineteen

Restitution- Chapter Twenty 🔥

[writing-for-marvel]

Bed Chem

Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your roommate Bucky walks in on your sexy Valentine’s Day plans with boyfriend Steve, and you ask him to join.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, MMF threesome, double vaginal penetration, thigh riding, oral (f & m receiving), ever so slight degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, creampies, spanking, a little Steve x Bucky, just some porn for your Valentine’s Day reading pleasure

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: Who’s the cute guy(s) with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad mm? Happy Valentine’s Day ♥️ banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

Your friend hit me up so we could connect, And what are the odds? You send me a text

It was a fortunate coincidence you met Steve Rogers when you did - he was picking up his best friend Bucky, your roommate, for a poker night when you answered the door in skimpy pj shorts and a singlet.

You remember the amorous twinkle in his bright blue eyes as he chatted you up, leaning against the doorframe so that his shirt rode up and you caught a glimpse of his happy trail and the defined oblique muscle which had you squeezing your thighs together.

It was not even 24 hours later, having practically begged Bucky for your number, you received a message asking you out.

That was more than a month ago, and is how you’ve now ended up here, sitting in Steve’s thick lap, his large hands splayed on your ass and his tongue down your throat on Valentine’s Day.

The pads of your fingers feel every toned muscle of his abdomen as your hands work to unbutton his shirt. His body is like that of a God carved from marble, powerful, strapping, and you can’t believe you get to fuck him.

“Be a good girl and get all wet and messy for me.” He orders in that raspy, hungry tone you’ve come to know well. Taking charge, Steve places you on his firm thigh, flexing the muscle beneath you. His hands rock your hips against him, prompting you to grind in fluid motions, your throbbing pussy finally feeling the friction she is desperately craving. “For all the filthy things I’m going to do to you, I need you dripping.”

The damp arousal soaking his pants is evidence you’re already drenched, but you’re resolute in making a mess for him, just like he asks. Whimpers cascade from your lips as you continue to grind against him, following his commands, his growling voice deep in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

Steve practically rips your top and bra off your body, lips latching to your nipple, tongue performing sorcery that makes you see a galaxy of stars behind your eyes.

You’re too caught up in each other, in how Steve’s thick thigh feels against your core, to notice a key turn in the lock, the front door swinging open and Bucky gaping at the front row seat he’s been given to your exhibition on the couch.

By the time you notice Bucky, his erect cock is painfully obvious as an outline in his sweatpants. You shoot him a smile, all the while still rocking your hips, and your best come hither smoulder you can muster with Steve’s mouth sucking on your breast.

“Don’t be shy, Buck. Come closer, get a good look.” A teasing smirk curves on Steve’s lips, only briefly taking his eyes off you above him to invite his best friend over to the pornographic scene taking place on his couch.

You’ve never seen typically forwardly flirty Bucky Barnes look as bashful as he does right now, a flush creeping up the tops of his cheeks, and his bright blue eyes are locked in on your oscillating hips rocking against Steve’s thigh as if he’s seeing a woman naked for the first time.

“C’mon pretty girl, show Bucky how beautiful you look when you cum.”

Steve’s chest reverberates against yours as he speaks in a deep, low voice. That combined with Bucky’s lust blown pupils urge you on, hips taking on a life of their own, angling your pelvis so you’re flawlessly stimulated, now wanting to appease not only your angelic boyfriend but the other pair of astonishingly blue eyes now trained on you.

All it takes is Steve’s supple lips to start sucking on your collarbone, his hands securely squeezing your hips and a small whimper from Bucky as he steps closer, for euphoria to crash over you like a waterfall, drowning you in a suffocating, all consuming, leg shaking, back arching orgasm.

Maybe it's all in my head, But I bеt we’d have really good bеd chem

“You liked that didn’t you, you little slut? Making Bucky watch?” You hum in agreement, your head still hazy from your orgasm, high on the feeling of bliss flowing through your veins.

Bucky adjusts himself and the thought of including him in your Valentine’s night plans makes you salivate. Being in the middle of both of these tantalising men, their muscular, sweaty bodies taking all the pleasure that your body is capable of for themselves, is a dream come true.

“You wanna taste how sweet my girl’s pussy is?” You watch on as Bucky practically jumps on the couch, eagerness etched into the smile growing on his gorgeous face.

You may have had just a teensy crush on Bucky when you first moved in, there’s no denying he has a certain boyish charm and a face card that makes ladies young and old swoon at first sight - a face you’d fantasised about sitting on more than a couple times.

“That’s it, no need to hover, all the way down.” Bucky’s rough hands pull your hips down so you are fully seated on his face, the tip of his tongue circling your already dripping entrance a couple times forcing a groan from the back of your throat.

“Open your mouth for me.” Steve requests, the pad of his thumb traces your bottom lip, and your jaw slackens for him. “Swallow me whole, pretty girl.”

You gag as your boyfriend's large dick hits the back of your throat - it’s not a new sensation, you’ve given Steve many a blowjob before, but not while also seated on a pair of lips that are ravishing your slick folds.

Bucky’s mouth works wonders on your sensitive bundle of nerves, which makes performing an expert job on Steve that much harder, but you’ve always been up for a challenge.

Using your hands to assist in maximising Steve’s pleasure, Bucky does the same for you - hungry touch roaming all hot skin he can reach from his position below you. There’s a small part of you that is acutely aware that two sets of eager, yearning blue irises are set upon you. But more than any other feeling, capturing both insanely attractive men’s full attention feels powerful, like you’re an unstoppable, raging river that dictates the flow of nature.

“I need you to fuck me.” Your words come out as a moaned plea, desperation as clear in your tone as it is in the arousal flowing out of you that Bucky is gladly lapping up.

“Whose cock do you want, baby?” You hear Steve say, taking your focus away from Bucky’s pretty, hypnotic eyes looking up at you riding his face. “Who do you want to fuck you sensless?”

Your eyes meet Steve’s pale blue ones and he knows without words exactly what you're longing for.

How you pick me up, pull ‘em down, turn me ‘round, Oh, it just makes sense

Steve manhandles you, practically throwing you down on your large bed. Having him looming over you, shoulders wide, thighs thick, cock erect, gives you a fluttering feeling of premonition in your belly. These man are about to ruin you.

The glint in his eye all but tells you he’s about to fuck you in a way where you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. Steve flips you over, and pulls you back so your ass is in the air, glistening pussy displayed for him. There’s a sharp smack against the flesh of your ass before he plunges into you, a deep, forceful thrust that makes you gasp with how much air he’s knocked from your lungs.

Bucky takes pleasure in watching Steve fuck you, stroking himself at a leisurely pace as his eyes widen in attempts to not miss a single moment of how exquisite you look while clinging to the sheets and being absolutely ravaged by his best friend.

“Suck him off.” Steve demands, an assertive hand grabbing the back of your neck, pulling your face up from being buried in the blankets that smell just like your boyfriend and towards Bucky’s hard on.

Having both of them filling you from either end of your body does something to you you can’t explain. Never in all your life have you felt this aroused, this needy, this desirable.

Steve makes contact with your ass again as he continues to split you open - your entire body inflates with insurmountable pleasure, a type of high that can barely contain within your corporeal form and transcends multiple planes of reality.

“Aww, you gonna cum already?” Steve taunts gravelly in your ear, feeling your walls flutter around him as the room fills with the sounds of you gagging on Bucky’s dick and Steve’s strong hips rhythmically crashing into your ass.

You don’t even have the opportunity to get a reply out, too busy trying to focus on taking Bucky, when your high hits you like a sudden, almost unpredicted, smack from Steve. The edges of your vision blur, or maybe it’s just your eyes rolling back, as a devastating, white hot pleasure rips through you, rays of warm ecstasy radiating from your core as if you are the sun itself.

And the two men currently sharing in that rapture on your bed certainly regard you as if you’re the centre of their universe in this moment.

How you talk so sweet when you’re doin’ bad things, That's bed chem

“Fuckkkk.” Bucky moans, his large hands finding your waist as you sink all the way down on him. “Steve, your girl’s so wet.”

“Best pussy I’ve ever had.” Steve says with a smirk, watching your face contort in pleasure as you adjust to this new angle with a soft endearment in his eyes. It continually surprises you how he can look at you with such affection when you’re in the middle of doing the filthiest things for him. Even fucking his best friend.

The best way to shut Steve’s vulgar mouth is by giving him something far more alluring to preoccupy his tongue with. He lays down on the bed before you, mesmerised by the way your pussy slides up and down on Bucky’s cock, how you take all of his long member seemingly with ease.

His tantalising fingers carefully, almost painfully so, play with your already sensitive clit, before he dives in tongue first, swirling, sucking, lapping at every drop of arousal gushing from you, paying extra close attention to that spot which makes you dizzy with desire.

“Holy fuck!” You shout into your bedroom which has now become a steamy, sweaty sauna of moans, curses and whimpers. “Right there - oh god! That feels so fucking good!”

The things your man can do with his tongue are otherworldly, and a sense of possessiveness flashes through you - you’re the woman he sinks to his knees for and worship like a queen.

But then Steve does something you’re not expecting - and though you can’t quite see it from your vantage point, you feel Bucky’s chest vibrate beneath you as he groans, presumably as Steve takes Bucky’s balls into his mouth.

“Fuck, Stevie.” Bucky breathes next to your ear, in a low moan, a timbre of voice you don’t think you’ve ever heard from him before. He’s clearly enjoying what your boyfriend's tongue is capable of as well.

Bucky’s hands squeeze tighter on your waist, his thrusts not as languid as before as he contends with multiple sources of gratification, something you suspect he has not felt before this very moment. And by the sounds of him panting underneath you, you’re sure he’s loving it.

And I bet it’s even better than in my head

Steve gives one last kiss to your sensitive and puffy clit, before he stands between your legs.

“Need you to turn around for me, pretty girl.” Steve’s voice has an edge of shakiness to it now, desperate need overcoming his usually calm, dominant demeanour.

You do as your told, now facing Bucky’s dazzling eyes that hold a burning desire you’ve never seen gaze at you with. The fluttering in your tummy when your hands rest on his broad, strapping chest and you sink back down on him, indicates to you this definitely isn’t the last time you’d like to see it.

“Want you to take both of us at once, think you can do that for me?”

Lord, you have no idea if your body is even capable of that, but if there are any two people on the planet you’d try for, it’s the two in this king size bed with you. You’re always up for a challenge.

“Yes, please, I need to feel both of you.”

Never in your life have you felt a burn so delectable as when Steve pushes inside you, your walls stretching to accommodate both men’s impressive sizes. Bucky clearly feels it too, how cramped for space you must feel as his groan matches your own, Steve’s cock sliding along Bucky’s as you wiggle your hips to aid in fitting both of them.

You’ve never felt this full before, so stuffed that you’ve truly reached 100% capacity, that it feels like you’re going to burst from being so utterly satiated.

“You were made for this weren’t you?” Steve asks rhetorically, because right at this second it undeniably feels like the three of you were designed for this exact purpose.

“Made to be stuffed with both our cocks.” Bucky adds with a grunt, teeth scraping your collarbone that just adds to the shiver that runs down your spine.

They don’t even have to move inside you for you to know you’re close. You’re not even sure there’s room for movement, everything feels so cramped, but in the best. You’re confined by two sweaty, muscular men intent on making you cum again.

Bucky's firm hands spread you open, whilst Steve’s tender hands on your hips assists with moving you along their cocks, only to push you backwards and you groan as they fill you again. All thoughts evaporate from your mind and all you can feel is them stretching you out, Bucky breathing shallowly beneath you, Steve’s low, melodious tone reverberating from behind you.

“That’s a good girl, cum on our cocks. We’ve got you, gorgeous.”

This time you’re fully aware of the crescendo you’re reaching, the life ruining orgasm that’s about to hit you square in the chest and fracture you into tiny pieces.

However hard you thought you were going to cum, it could not have prepared you for the moment the taut band in your belly finally snaps. Ecstasy in its purest form pulses in your veins, filling your whole, trembling body with a high so powerful the whole galaxy of stars flash behind your eyes.

You’re mumbling incoherent whimpers as the men reach their peak, feeling you clench down even tighter on their dicks, their shafts sliding along one another’s, they both spill their orgasm into you.

You feel gapingly empty when they pull out of you, like there is a crucial part of your anatomy that is now missing and you won’t feel whole again until it’s restored. Steve watches with erotic fascination as all your mixed releases drip from your core, taking a thick finger and pushing it back inside you where it belongs, before grabbing a damp cloth to clean you up.

Once he’s done, Steve lays beside you so you’re sandwiched between him and Bucky, placing gentle kisses to your form as tiredness starts to overtake you from the most incredible night of your life.

You’re not sure where this leaves your relationship with either man, is Bucky fated to simply be your roommate from now on? How can you go back to sleeping just a wall away knowing what phenomenal pleasure he can pull from your naked body? Would your normally dominant and possessive boyfriend mind sharing you with his best friend again?

But one things for sure, you're absolutely positive you’ll never feel completely satiated again unless you have both of their cocks inside you.

I bet we’d have really good bed chem

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Another Heartbeat

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, captivity, elements/suggestions of feederism behaviour, breeding, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get your valentine's surprise.

Based on responses: Lap sitting, breeding, creampie, plus size reader, being carried

Characters: Steve Rogers

This is #2 of the Valentines Roulette stories

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You wince as the light aches in your eyelids. You stay hidden behind them as you raise your hand shakily. Your lashes wet with tears as you search for the strength to open them. You hunch down and slump further into the corner. 

“Sweetheart,” his deep timbre fills the cramped space. “Hey, are you awake?” 

You sense him come closer. You don’t have the voice to answer him. Are you awake? This feels like another rotten nightmare. 

“Sweetheart?” His shadow dulls the glare shining through the open door. Open... there was a time when all you did was stare through the dark and pray for those hinges to turn. “It’s a special day.” 

He touches your shoulder. You flinch. He curls his hand around your arm and slides you against the wall to sit straight. He catches your head as it bobbles on your neck. 

“You can behave, can’t you?” His thumb brushes your cheekbone and he cooes at your witless murmuring. “I know you can be good for me. You have been.” 

Your eyes are like marbles, threatening to roll back. The days, weeks, months, however long, blend together in blackness. The only light comes through when he slides back that narrow latch and pushes through the tray. A thick bitter smoothie and bland food. Nothing sugary or processed. You eat it or... 

You shudder as your teeth ache at the memory of the metal clamp pushing open against them. The strain of your esophagus and the churning of stomach acid. No, you eat on your own and it keeps him happy. Nice, even. 

“Alright, let’s get you ready, sweetheart,” he slips an arm behind you and another under your knees. He lifts you effortlessly. “Oh, sweetie,” he purrs, “you’re so...” his hand squeezes along your hip. “Soft.” 

The food comes like clockwork. You clear the tray and push it back every time. You feel it engorging you, adding to the cushion around your hips and belly. Even your chest feels bigger. 

He carries you into the light. You turn your head and hide your face against his hard chest. If you open your eyes, they’ll burn out of the sockets. It’s too bright. You cradle your face as all of your trembles. 

“I know, sweetheart, gotta build up your strength,” he coaxes. 

The motion of the world around you adds to the dizzy spin in your head. You lean into him as you feel like you might fall out of his grasp, even as he holds you snug. He finally puts you down. You fold over your lap instantly and he pushes you back up. 

“Work with me,” he pets your hair. 

You tense and quiver as you hold yourself up. You stopped standing up a while back, stopped trying to get any sort of exercise in that space. A cell. The prison he made for you. 

“Alright, we’re going to get you cleaned up.” 

His knuckles brush down your temples and cheek, then along your neck. He follows the silhouette of your body along your shoulders and arms. He gently reaches behind your neck to untie the knot behind it. He peels away the open back linen gown. 

You shiver as your head hangs like a boulder. 

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he says. 

You shudder and ball your hands. You exhale as your eyes singe with the effort. You have to obey or... 

You whimper as you pry your lids open. He cradles your chin and forces your head up. Tears roll out and flow down your face. Everything around you is harsh yet fuzzy. 

“I know, sweetie, gotta adjust,” he stands and lets you go cautiously.  

You quake as you lean back against the cold tank of the toilet. He turns and dims the lights. You let your head sink again and watch the tile. The last time you saw those dainty blue diamonds, there was water splashed all around, your body was thrashing, your voice shrill and dry. 

You jolt as you come back to the present. He lowers you into the tub as hot water laps down from the faucet. The steam rises around you in a cloud as he helps you recline against the porcelain.  

His deep voice rises from his large chest. You stare at his shirt. He sings as he washes you with a cloth, suds foaming round his thick fingers. Your eyes creep up to thick beard along his jaw. His eyes are as bright as gems as they focus on his task. Everything is bright. 

And heavy and rough. Just the cotton is enough to make your skin crawl. After so long in desolation, it’s like sandpaper. His voice is low but rattles your eardrums. The song plucks at your brain but you can’t place the memory. 

What was before? 

“Till the end of time,   Long as stars are in the blue,   long as there’s a spring,   a bird to sing,   I’ll go on loving you.” 

You close your eyes and moan. He clucks. 

“No, don’t go to sleep,” he bids. 

Your eyes snap open. He continues his work. When he’s done, he lifts you out, leaning you against him as he wraps you in a towel. There’s a warm smell wafting from your skin. 

He dries you meticulously and replaces the towel with a robe. He takes you to a new room. He sits you at a table with a framed picture of a woman above it. You blink as he moves beside the woman. It’s not a picture. It’s a mirror. 

Is that really you? 

He moves behind you and tugs at your hair. He pauses to check something as he arranges it. Some sort of instruction? Then he shifts you to face him. He uses pencils and brushes on you; tugging at your eyelids and spinning a wand against your lashes. 

He puts you to face the mirror again. You look shinier. You? That’s you? 

He dresses you in red. A plush cloud of fabric in light layers, with roses on the bodice, a short robe with puffed sleeves. He guides you before a bigger mirror. Tall. He stands behind you as he makes you look. 

“You’re gorgeous, sweetheart,” he drags his hands up and down your sides. “You ready for your surprise?” 

You mouth the words. You don’t think you can speak. He smiles and sits you on the cushioned stool again. 

“I almost forgot about me.” 

He leaves you and opens the closet. You watch his back. He’s so big. Tall, broad shoulders, thick hands. 

Your eyes list to the door. You can’t stand without him. You press your soles to the floor and your calves shake. No, you won’t get very far. 

“I can hear your excitement,” he turns with hangers hooked over a finger and taps on his chest with the other. “Sweetheart, you’re going to love it.” 

He goes behind a folding screen painted with golden feathers. You can see his head above it as he changes. He emerges, knotting a patterned silk tie over his crisp white shirt. The jacket is a pale shade of grey that somehow makes his eyes bluer. 

He nears and bends to check himself in the mirror. He combs his long hair back. His thick strands and beard don’t match the formality of his attire. 

“Come on, sweetheart.” 

He stands straight and bends his arm. You stare at it before your head clicks. He helps you stand and loops your arm through his. He walks you into the hallway. Your legs wobble dangerously. 

He stops you before a closed door. There’s a small wooden sign hung on it that shows a stork. You frown. You wonder what it means. You waver as you expect him to put you back into the dark. You step back on your heel and whimper. 

“Sweetie, you’re being good. You can stay out.” 

He turns the crystal door knob. Something about the decor feels so... out of time. He pushes the door inward and unhooks his arm from yours. He guides you by your shoulders into the room, staying behind you. 

The first thing you see are balloons. Big round balloons with pink ribbons and bows attached to them. The latex shines in shades of rose, blush, and ivory. They’re tied to the furniture that fills the room. 

The walls are painted in shades of pastel, one is a forest scene with critters and birds behind branches and stones. There’s a dresser and a table with a pad on top. A chair and a matching ottoman, a rug that looks softer than a cloud, and at the center of it all, a crib. Above hangs a mobile with stars and moon. 

“Happy Valentine's, sweetheart, you’ve been so good,” he praises as he trails his touch down your arm and takes your hand. He draws you around the room. “You like it?” 

Your stomach stirs uneasily. You nod despite the violent tide inside you. This isn’t right. What is this? 

“I knew you would. And you can help finish it. The little things. You know, I don’t have a good eye for the details,” he turns you to take it all in. The windows. There’s no sunlight coming in. Are they even real windows? They are just frames nailed to a wall. 

“Come on,” he brings you to the chair and he sits. He tugs you by the hand. You nearly collapse. “Right here.” 

He pats his thigh. You turn and he helps you sit. He pulls you against him to recline as the back lowers with his lean. He extends his legs onto the ottoman, yours with them. 

He sighs as you lay atop him. He traces the length of your arms then feels along your torso, squeezing the padding along your stomach and chest. You squirm uncomfortably. 

“You been eating good. Drinking your smoothies. Getting your vitamins,” he says. “I can see how good you’ve been.” 

His hands stop on your thighs. He rubs the fabric then slowly drags it up with his fingers, crumpling it high above your naked legs. He tickles you and you wince as he kneads you more firmly. 

His hand trails beneath the bunched skirt and he pets long your curly patch of hair. You hold your breath and tense. He pushes his fingertip between your folds and your voice trickles out in a squeak. 

He rubs you as your insides squirm. You shift and he spreads his other hand across your stomach to still you. You slicken beneath his teasing touch. Your legs fall apart as he pushes his hand further back. 

He exhales over you and drags his hand around your thigh. He slides it under you and his knuckles press into you as he plucks at his pants. He pushes his fly open as you wriggle against him. He shifts you up his body as his other hand dips down to your pelvis. 

He angles you down as he guides his tip long your cunt. You arch your back as he wet himself with your juices. He delves into you slowly and you latch onto his wrist. You convulse as he gets deeper and deeper. 

He rolls his hip, gliding out and back in. You clench around him and measure your breath around the tension in your muscles. He pushes in and you whine. He keeps a slow, even tempo as he stretches a finger down to toy with your clit. 

“I was reading a lot. They say it’s better when you cum. To make sure it takes.” 

His words confuse you. You can barely think as he makes his long thrusts. You brace the armrest as he unravels you tilt by tilt. 

He swirls his fingers as a fiery cluster blooms in your core. You push your feet down around his, digging into the cushion of the ottoman. You strain and writhe as your voice breaks through the brittleness of your throat. You twitch as the heat within unfurls into icy tendrils. 

He hums as he urges you through but doesn’t let up. He pumps into faster as his fingers keep their tempo. The layers of clothes build a fire between you, raising a sheet of sweat over your skin. He groans as he fucks you from below. 

His feet slip from the ottoman as it slides beyond his height. He plants his soles on the floor, rutting up into you as your legs splay wide. Your body bounces helplessly and you cling to the chair and moan, drowning in the shallowness of your breath. 

“I can feel how ready you are, sweetheart,” he grits through his teeth. His hand roves up to your chest and he squeezes, your nipple throbbing tenderly. “You’re going to be a good mommy.” 

You shudder and gasp, your ribs wracking in dread. He groans and fucks you harder, puffing over your hair. 

“Sweetie, are you ready? Tell me you’re ready? You gonna make me a daddy?” 

You gulp and cough, head lolling as you cling onto his arm. He hammers into you harder and harder. 

“Tell me,” he snarls. 

“Y-y-yesssss,” you rasp from your tortured through. 

He grunts and spasms, a warmth flooding inside you as his pace turns wild. You close your eyes and they sting with another swell of tears. The painted walls, the glowing the balloons, it’s all so much worse than that black cell. 

[l0velysmut]

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

[ruerecs]

PSA! you don't have to have smut in your fic to make it good.

for all the butthurt people in my reblogs, i’m literally a writer too. that’s literally why i made this post, never said you shouldn’t. just said you don’t have to? (all the people complaining about this post just know i’m laughing at your replies🙂‍↕️)