Disclaimer: I do not give anyone permission to take, repost, copy or translate my stories, regardless of whether or not they are credited. This blog and all works associated with are 18+ only. Minors please do not interact or follow.
Librarian!Steve Masterlist
He knows he shouldn’t have looked - his Ma raised him better than that - but Steven Grant Rogers has always been a nosy little shit. Besides, the type of book a person reads can say a hundred things about them, and what better way is there to learn more about you?
Steve wonders what it is about this book that’s got you excited. Is it adventure? Knowledge? A new mystery?
The novel you’d specially requested had finally arrived, and it was surprisingly unassuming. A small beige coloured book - the cloth a few shades darker than his sweater vest - with the cursive title underlined by a single, fine lined peony.
Without looking further Steve concludes it must be a poetry anthology, and then promptly opens it.
Jesus was he wrong.
He supposes that, in some unusual way, there is something poetic about the depth of the protagonists’ desires for one another. However, the paragraphs intimately detailing their numerous affairs are beyond obscene. This is what you desire so badly that you came to him the library to get it?
Getting lost in the book before he realises it, he asks himself that question as he reads on, gradually getting more and more flustered by the descriptive language, and it’s not long before he’s picturing you in these carnal encounters - a sultry, inviting smile on your face, lashes fluttering as you thank him for being so good for you, your chest in his face as you slowly reach for his-
*DING!*
Startled, he about falls from his chair when he hears the bell from the front counter ring. Quickly snapping the book shut he leans back in his chair, calms his harsh breathing and looks past the office doorway to see you patiently standing there. The second you catch his eye you wave at him hesitantly, almost as if you had just caught him in the act.
The thought both mortifies and stirs him.
“Is now a bad time?” you ask sweetly.
“No” - his hands fumble as he adjusts his now tight pants out of view - “not at all.”
Five painfully awkward seconds later he’s rolling over in chair, praying desperately that the stack of returns in his lap is enough to cover what’s left of his raging hard-on. He hopes his voice isn’t too conspicuous, too strained while he asks how he can help you.
“I received an email saying my book is here?”
Steve attempts to keep his cool when you mention your order, nodding in acknowledgement. He thinks his face doesn’t feel too hot when he wheels back and grabs the explicit material, his expression schooled into something a little more professional as he hands it over to you.
But then you lead forward to take it, the smile on your face growing. “You’re my hero, Steve. Honestly, my friend has been pestering me about this for ages so today’s the day I can finally get her off my back about it.”
Steve Rogers is fucked and he knows it, feels the familiar resignation settle underneath his skin as his fingers brush yours and his vision narrows down to this moment. To you.
There’s a small part of him that hates how he’ll twist this interaction later for his own pleasure, turn it into something else entirely while you, his favourite and most precious patron, remain none the wiser.
“Thank you, Steve.”
“I’m happy to help.”
He watches your thumb gently rub the spine of the book and -
Yeah, he’s utterly fucked.
--------
A/N: Send me a NSFW headcanon and I’ll write a 5 sentence ficlet about it 👀👅
NSFW headcanon: Andy’s favorite weekend activity is you sitting on his face 😏😘
You bet it is 🥵🥵 I love you for suggesting this Siri! This ended up being way longer than five sentences, but only cause I’d been planning this drabble for a while....
I hate people (but I love you)
Pairing: Andy Barber x F!reader
Warnings: language, explicit smut (somewhat sub!Andy, face riding, oral - f receiving.) 18+ only.
Word count: 600+
Disclaimer: I do not give anyone permission to take, repost, copy or translate my stories, regardless of whether or not they are credited. This blog and all works associated with are 18+ only. Minors please do not interact or follow.
This is how your husband finds you - glaring at the kitchen countertop with a fixed look of utter disgust as though the offending marble had kicked your proverbial dog.
“I hate people.”
There’s a half-empty glass of Pinot in your hand when you begin your rant, detailing not only how shit your Friday was but also how badly Derrik’s mistakes will fuck up the rest of your week, how do you email over 50 documents worth of the wrong project, fucking dumbass-
Your fingers tighten around the stem of your glass as you remember, the remaining red wine shifting as quickly as your mood.
He clears his throat, his broad hands shifting his tie as he calmly begins to undo it. With years of being unfazed by legal bullshit behind him, Andy’s a stark contrast to your tense figure.
He finally gets an idea of how to fix your week - and his, though that’s a discussion for much later - through the seven unexpected little words that you finish with:
“Just got to ride it out, right?”
You sound so resigned and for Andrew Barber that simply won’t do.
There’s a thrumming in his blood as both of his hands reach out towards you, one to pluck the empty glass from you and another entwining itself with your free hand. “Let me help you, then.”
The walk to your shared bedroom isn’t hurried, and neither is the way Andy strips himself of his clothes, stark white shirt unbuttoned with care as he sits on the edge of the mattress with you standing wantonly between his legs. His pants and boxer briefs go soon after and all that’s left are the warm puffs of air you can feel through your skirt as he presses his forehead to your pelvis, thick fingers gliding up the sides of your legs until the black material is bunched up around your waist. His touch is delicate but deliberate, teasing you while he hums in appreciation at the sight of wet lace.
Fuck, he’ll never stop looking forward to that.
“Honey, god,” he rasps, bringing you with him as he lies down, “come here.”
You feel the scrape of his beard against your thigh, peppered kisses and sweet smiles complimented only by you swiftly moving your panties to the side. His gaze speaks volumes, the eagerness and excitement visible in his baby blues - there’s no hesitation as you sink down.
What better way to start Andy’s weekend than to taste the parts of you reserved just for him, his tongue gently lapping at the slick gathered at your entrance, every stuttered moan and broken whimper rewarded with a firm suckle on your clit or a broad, sweeping lick to your sensitive folds.
The corded muscles in his arms pull you closer, hold you tighter, palms firm as his fingertips dig deep into your bare, heated flesh. You’ll feel the bruises from them later, and he’ll try and pretend to give a shit - even as he puffs his chest up in pride.
Andy groans when he feels your fist in his hair, wedding ring warm against his scalp, and when you roll your hips against his beard harder and sing his praises - Andy, baby, right there, so good sosogood - he’s halfway gone already.
It’s only been three days since you last rode him but clearly, it was three days too long. It seems that bad things happen when you don’t sit on his face.
At least, that’s the excuse he’ll make tomorrow. And it will almost certainly work because even though you hate people, you love your husband, your Andy, more.
-------
A/N: Send me a NSFW headcanon and I’ll write a 5 sentence ficlet about it 👀👅
Hii, for the requests: it's 2am. your lover is still playing video games in the living room, so you grab your pillow, settling yourself in between your lover's thighs as you watch them play, and soon enough, you're asleep again and i feel like it would work with our nerdy boy jake jensen please?🥺
Never Too Early For Hugs
Pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader
Warnings: language, fluff, minor angst. 18+ only. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION.
Word count: 575 words
Disclaimer: I do not give anyone permission to take, repost, copy or translate my stories, regardless of whether or not they are credited. This blog and all works associated with are 18+ only. Minors please do not interact or follow.
A/N: this was so soft I need this. Thank you for sending this in! Prompt list found here.
Main Masterlist / Add yourself to my tag list!
The other side of the bed is cold. Too cold and too lonely.
It shouldn’t be this hard to fall asleep without him, you’ve done it before - but you can’t stop noticing how cold the sheets are. More importantly, you can’t stop thinking about how cold you are. He wasn’t here before but he is now.
Yet, he’s not.
It’s just not right.
Roused from your troubled slumber, you grab your beaten pillow begging the short trudge towards the living room, the denial of warm cuddles from your boyfriend the final straw in forcing you out of bed well before you need to be up. Slowly moving through the hallway your eyes squint at the clock on the wall, and you grumble upon seeing the hands positioned at 12 and 2.
To say you hadn’t been sleeping well would be an understatement. Sure your sleep pattern has always been a little… messy, but ever since Jake’s moved in you’ve found it easier; the comfort of his hugs never fails to eventually lull you to sleep.
Unfortunately, just as Jake gets lost in the simple happiness of being with you he also tends gets lost in his hobbies, eager to spend hours upon hours playing Call of Duty with his friends. And while you absolutely don’t want him to stop doing something that not only makes him happy but also gives him a break from thinking like a soldier, you’re just that extra bit needy tonight.
You spot your beautiful, blond nerd the moment you enter the room, the flashing lights from the TV illuminating Jake’s focused form. Leaning on the armrest he glares at the video game, his brow furrowed and pink tongue poked out as his thumbs move furiously across the Xbox controller. A leg is bent upright, his sweatpants creasing as the other lazily dangles off the couch.
“Got ‘em. Next time, listen to me when I say don’t go to the other side of the map. Mess with bull, you get the horns.”
Fucking dork.
God, you’re so soft for him.
A yawn escapes you as you shuffle forward and finally he faces you, his glasses now reflecting your tired figure.
“Hey”— he greets you, one broad hand moving away from the controller and pulling his headphones down —“is everything okay?”
His voice is laced with warmth and concern as he speaks to you, and his free hand beckons you over.
You shake your head as you slot yourself between his thighs, laying your pillow over his graphic shirt. “Couldn’t sleep, ‘m too cold,” you mumble.
His bare arms embrace you and a thumb soothingly rubs your shoulder. “Would you like me to come back to bed?” he asks, dropping a kiss on the top of your head.
Pushing yourself further into the pillow you again shake your head in disagreement, your bleary gaze settling on the TV. “‘S fine. Just want cuddles.”
Despite the fact that you can’t see it, you can feel his content grin as he responds with a quiet, “okay.”
His praise is more than enough to bring a small, sleepy smile to your face as your eyes flutter shut.
“Love you Jake.”
You feel another kiss briefly press itself into your hair line as Jake gently readjusts his grip on the controller, careful to not jostle you too much.
Yeah, how can you be anything other than soft for this man?
“Love you too, Princess.”
- - - - -
Send a prompt to my ask box and I’ll write a drabble for it!
Soulmate AU - Jake Jensen - t...imers are set on the wrist of every person once they are a certain age, slowly counting down until the day they meet their soulmate.
Fucking Brian
Pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader (Soulmate AU)
Warnings: awkward first meetings, humour, language, slight fluff. 18+ only. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION.
Word count: 750+ words
Disclaimer: I do not give anyone permission to take, repost, copy or translate my stories, regardless of whether or not they are credited. This blog and all works associated with are 18+ only. Minors please do not interact or follow.
A/N: Trying to break away from my imposters syndrome. Slowly going through the ask box. Dividers by @firefly-graphics. Will tag in the morning because I need to sleep now x
Main Masterlist / Add yourself to my tag list!
Your frustration mounts with every increase in your workload: Brian from marketing has yet another complaint made against him for not showing up to work, and fucking Cheryl keeps forcing IT to change her password for her because the stupid bitch never writes it down. Above all, your boss - still somehow Brian - has magically lost the handout you’d previously typed up for the company latest pitch, forcing you to sift through masses of corporate files to find and print the damn thing again. But even that isn’t the biggest upset of the day.
You’re meant to meet your soulmate today, yet because of all of this it looks like you won’t even make it out of the building. A quick glance at the timer that you’ve had on your wrist since your thirteenth birthday confirms your worst fear: 000:00:00:10.
Only ten seconds left.
No.
Fuck.
Your opportunity? Gone. Just like that.
Dropping your head in your hands as a mixture of anger, despair and disappointment washes over you, you fail to hear the set of heavy steps racing down the hallway. And it’s only when a disheveled blond man practically throws himself into your office - slamming the door closed with enough force to rattle the shutters on your windows - that you finally notice the commotion.
Failing to see you the stranger takes a moment to adjust both his breathing and his glasses. Your hand moves to rest near the phone at your desk, security only a phone call away. His eyes snap up at your movement, and that’s when you both hear it - your timers going off in sync.
Your gaze drops to your wrist and the realisation quickly sinks in, your confusion leaving you; it actually happened.
No way.
“Holy shit,” he lowly exclaims. “Holy shit, it’s you.”
You can only nod in delight, the clubbed expression on his face mirroring yours. This guy - this beaming, broad shouldered stranger with a puppy-like face - is your soulmate?
“Christ, I definitely did not expect to meet you this way. Granted, I thought it’d be more along the lines of me saving the sexy damsel in distress. I had a whole hero monologue planned and everything but technically I’m still on a mission so this totally works-”
“Okay, stop.” You cut him off, eyes blinking in slight bewilderment. You catch your breath as the realisations of he was running from the staff and you don’t know him begin to sink in. “Who are you, and what reason do you have to be hiding out in my office?”
His blue eyes widen as you point at the door. Before you can ask about the guards chasing him, you hear faint footsteps grow louder. Both of your heads snap towards the door.
Your soulmate steps forward, hand raising in a gesture that’s meant to placate your worries. It only slightly works.
“My name is Corporal Jake Jensen,” he swallows, “and I’m here to investigate a Brian Milson. I may have been caught going through his things-”
Of course it’s fucking Brian, of course this is his fault.
Goddamnit.
“-only because he’s into some mysterious, dodgy shit. Like, extra parking lot late at night, no witnesses, never ever leaves a tip kinda dodgy-”
It’s with a mixed bag of emotions that you cut him off again, too painfully aware of both the growing outside noise and his right hand steadily drifting towards his waistline, searching for something out of habit. “Story time later, under the desk.”
He stares confused at you for a second before a second downwards jerk of your head spurs him into action. Moving your seat as needed the captain scrambles into position. His eyes briefly meet yours as you push your chair forward again, and you feel with growing certainty that this man would lay his life down for yours in a heartbeat. (Albeit in a very overly dramatic way, probably.)
“Don’t make this awkward.”
“Yes ma’am.”
His breath is hot on your knees, making your own hitch. “And don’t try anything.”
There’s a very short pause before you receive another response of, “yes ma’am.”
You swear for the briefest moment before the latest hires in security knock on your door that you feel the pad of a finger gingerly graze your ankle, unsure if the action’s meant to be reassuring or teasing, or both.
(Jake confirms three days later on your first date that it was both after his flimsy excuse of “I liked your… shoes” fails to land. You also both agree that - as much as it pains the two of you - it was Brian and your mutual loathing of him that brought you both together.
Your soulmate sends a thank you card to his cell once a year.)
Hiya, beauty! Happy sleepover 😍❤️ How about this smut prompt:
“what has you so excited”
For:
Hehehe. Have fun! ❤️🙏🏻
Siri I love you and I love this so here you go babe ❤️ this got so soft I apologise. Thank you for celebrating with me and happy new year!
Warning: Smut (sexual contact) under the cut. 18+ only.
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“What has you so excited?”
Thick arms wrap around your waist, accompanied by the one of the warmest voices around. Steve’s question comes out in a soft grumble and ends with a gentle peck to the side of your face.
His smile is contagious and you grin back, placing your arms atop his. Moving your gaze away from your vanity mirror you roll your head back onto his shoulder, nose brushing his clean shaven jaw. “It’s the first night in our new home. Can’t help it.”
Our home. Our home. The phrase plays itself twice more in Steve’s mind.
Steve closes his eyes briefly, a small, content smile gracing his pretty face, and you take a second to absorb the visual. The dim lamplight on the other side of the room gives your golden man a soft glow, halo-like in its appearance. It’s beautiful just how happy and at peace he looks now - for a moment all the holes in his worn, old soul don’t exist.
He dips his head and closes the gap between you two, pink lips languidly pushing and teasing yours in an easy dance that he’s done a thousand times and will happily, enthusiastically do a thousand times more. Your hand reaches up to twist and dig themselves into his blonde locks, messed slightly from the sheer amount of the furniture he had to lift today to decorate your new abode. While you grip his hair and pull him impossibly closer his hand hovers downwards, grazing the edge of your new nightgown - a present for him because you know how he loves to see you wrapped in silk, on offer just for him, for him and him alone to enjoy you, take you - before he tugs it up in one smooth motion and slides his fingers under.
Steve groans into your mouth when his fingertips touch you and find you bare, wet and waiting, and you swallow his disbelief and hunger before pulling back slightly.
“What’s got you so excited, handsome?”
----
My sleepover is now live, so send me some asks and help me celebrate the new year!
hi! could you do the smut prompts 32 and 34 with mommy!natasha and daddy!bucky with naïve!reader? sort of like an office scene please? and thank you!! 🥰
Oh, me likely. Love a good CEO!AU.
Prompts: 32 - “you wanna have sex with me”. 34 - “i’m afraid i can no longer remain professional”,
Warning: Implied smut (sexual contact, implied threesome) under the cut. 18+ only.
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All was quiet on the top floor of The Compound. Everyone had left for the day, finished with their paperwork and thankful to come home and indulge in whatever vice your coworkers normally choose to partake in on the weekends. Everyone, bar you and your employers.
There had been only silence as you’d sat with them in Miss Romanoff’s office, diligently working through report after report and project after project. There had been peace, and then there had been a proposal.
And then you’d promptly choked on your water after said proposal, which was effectively coughed back up by two thumps on your back, courtesy of one concerned Mr Barnes and his metal hand.
“I’m sorry,” you now sputter incredulously, “you wanna have sex with… me?”
You can feel a firm, virbranium palm rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades and your face grows hot, all too aware of his close proximity to you.
Natasha Romanoff, a woman known for her ferocity, determination and poise, chuckles softly as she gracefully makes her way towards the seat to your left, caging you on the couch between her and James Buchanan Barnes - your other boss. “We do, yes. Unless we’ve been misinterpreting those looks you’ve been giving my fiancé and I?”
Her knuckles gingerly graze your cheek, crimson lips parted as she studies your guilty expression. “It’s endearing,” she continues, “but I’m afraid I can no longer remain professional, and neither can James. So why don’t you let us show you what you’re missing out on?”
There is sudden warmth emanating from above your knee and you quickly glance to see James’s - Mr Barnes’s - flesh hand come to rest at the seam of your skirt. His thumbs rubs at it, briefly dipping under it before lifting back up. You can feel the lack of space between his lips and your neck as he calmly whispers to you in a thick Brooklyn accent, “Let us take care of you for the weekend. Come home with us, baby doll. Let Mommy and Daddy spoil you.”
Your legs spread as give them your answer, the only answer that feels right. Everyone and everything else comes later. Mommy and Daddy come first.
---
My sleepover is now live, so send me some asks and help me celebrate the new year!
hello happy new year!!! i'm atill obsessed with "fucking brian" bc it's so fluffy and has me in stitches everytime i reread. do you have any headcanons for that universe? i kind of see jake calling her ma'am a lot, teasingly and also bc he's kinda subby 😖👉🏼👈🏼💕
Brandy, baby, happy new year to you too!! Thank you for still reading my stuff, I’m so happy to hear how much you loved that story. (For those of you who haven’t yet read Fucking Brian, click here.) Now those headcanons (which totally ended up being headcanons and not drabbles)...
He calls her ma’am for two reasons: one, when she asks him to do something and he either doesn’t take her seriously or takes it way too seriously;
“Jake, the pizza guy is here. Can you-”
“Yes ma’am,” he says, giving you a wink and a quick salute before bounding away. Immediately he catches his foot jumping over the couch and proceeds to faceplant the floor with a loud *thud*.
“Jesus Jake, it’s just delivery!”
“I take my duty as your soulmate very seriously,” he groans from behind the sofa.
and two, when he fucks up and gets punished in the bedroom.
“The temptation to leave you like this is definitely there...”
His head hangs lowly in what most people would naturally assume to be shame, except it’s not because you absolutely know better by now. The expression he wears is only 10% shame. The other 90% is pure horny excitement and curiosity. Or it was, until you finished talking.
The stunned, fearful look in his eyes as he whips his head up is obvious, enhanced further by the tensing of his arms, bare limbs tied neatly behind the chair.
“Please-”
“Please, what?”
“Please, ma’am. Don’t leave. Don’t leave me like this.”
You’re straddling him now, watching him hiss in mixed pleasure and pain as his his sensitive cock rubs against the fabric of your skirt. Jake’s been in this situation many times before and has to restrain himself from rutting against you in frustration. Being the good soldier that he is, he knows the drill.
If only he had been a good boy too.
As you lean forward you see a single bead of sweat roll down the side of his face, a strand of hair stuck to his forehead in its wake. You can hear his ragged breathing, feel his chest rise and fall rapidly against yours. His pupils are blown wide as they track your every moment, his tongue darting out to wet his lips when you get closer.
There space between his mouth and yours is almost non-existent when you suddenly stop. “I want a very thorough apology then. Be good for me again, then maybe I’ll be kind enough to help you.”
His eyes flutter shut at the promise of sweet relief. “Yes ma’am.”
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My sleepover is now live, so send me some asks and help me celebrate the new year!
Serial Killer!Steve making you dance with him, dance until your feet ache and limb tremble. And if you can't finish the dance?
hehehHEHEHEH I strangely love this idea, it seems like something he would do.
Warnings: implied kidnapping, implied torture and manipulation. 18+ only.
“You’re a wonderful partner, it’d be a shame for you to end our dance now.”
Honeyed words aiming to mock you, encouraging you to just give up - give in to it, sweetheart - almost hit their mark. You’re tired from hours of waltzing; bloodied from the heels pinching your feet; and bruised from his unsympathetic hands fiercely clutching your waist and left hand as you follow his lead endlessly.
But you know what will happen if you drop, the devious glint in his steely gaze giving your captor’s desires away easily, almost as if he’s made no effort to conceal how delighted he’d be if you fail him now.
With ragged breath and a will to survive, you stare back, biting out, “Don’t worry, I can do this all day.”
Send me a NSFW headcanon and I’ll write a 5 sentence ficlet about it 👀👅
