Tasha set up a lunch for us, but it’s the same day you get back.
Can we eat some greasy american food?
Anything you want.
You won’t be jetlagged?
Nope. Tell her yes!! So excited :)
Me too. See you soon.
With a soft exhale, you clutch your phone facedown to your chest. “I have a date tomorrow.”
Helen keeps neatly rolling her clothes into tight bundles. “With Steve?”
“In… a way.”
She sighs as she stuffs the shirts into her luggage. “For the record—"
As the assistant to a genetics genius prone to epiphanies, you reflexively grab your phone and open a voice memos app. Your finger hovers over the red record button. “Is this actually for the record? Because I hate when you say that and—”
“This is a bad idea, and you should tell him how you feel,” Helen pushes.
“It’s not like that,” you mumble, tossing your phone to the other side of your fluffy hotel bed.
Kinktober Day 30: Peccatiphilia (fetish for sinning) and Parthenophilia (fetish for virginal partners)
Pairing: priest!Steve Rogers x fem!reader
Words: ~3.7k
Summary: Meeting you might be the greatest test to his vows he’s ever faced.
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (loss of virginity, sex in a confessional, unprotected vaginal sex, praise kink), lots of religious themes, some angst, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!!
A/N: Oh boy, I want to wreck this man real bad. My blasphemy fetish popped all the way out for this one, and I’m not even a little sorry.
I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!
The first time Steve saw you, he should have known you were going to test him in every way imaginable.
Seeing you in that red dress in the front pew at your friend’s baby’s baptism stirred something in him he hadn’t felt in years, the sound of your laughter and the way you smiled distracting him so much he almost forgot the words of the benediction he was giving. Since you didn’t partake of communion he was at least bolstered with the hope that he’d never have to see you after that day, the sight of the few extra inches of your thighs he got when you adjusted the hem of your skirt making his body ache in a way he thought was no longer possible.
Then you started coming to mass, and he could’ve died.
summary:a night spent in the hospital wing with a sick steve rogers.
word count: 1.6k
warnings:see tags on AO3. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI.
a/n:i don’t want to say my entire blog is 18+ so this work is being posted exclusively to AO3. this is to discourage minors from interacting. thank you for respecting my boundaries.
PREVIEW:
“I’ll live,” he says, dismissing your concern. “You gonna scold me?”
“I don’t scold—”
“I can take care of myself.” He closes the bottle and drops it on the small side table.
You scoff. “I wish you would.” Your grip tightens for a second before you step away. “I’m only watching you ‘cause Cho is supposed to have the night off, and I’m the only other person in the Compound with medical experience.” In the semi-darkness of the room, you can see him roll his eyes. “Do you ever think about how your carelessness affects other people?”
Flatly, he tells you, “I would say that since dozens of people didn’t die from a military-grade explosive earlier today, my recklessness has net positive results.” Despite the confident Captain-ness of his voice, he winces at some pain you can’t see. “But how could I forget your incredibly important Friday night plans?”
He curls tighter now, petulantly facing away from you, almost boyish. Instead of feeling irritated, your heart aches unexpectedly.
“No plans,” you admit. “I was just hoping to not have to spend my night with an asshole.”
Okay, so this was a request from @mcubabydotcom and I thought I’d ease in gently (no pun intended….was it?) and then I got a little carried away and wrote more than expected…what can I say? You read one article and one forum thread and you get more ideas! C'est la vie.
It’s time to introduce…cockwarming with Chris.
(18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI)
Lazy mornings never really meant anything until you met Chris. Over the past year, you’d learned to slow down. To appreciate the time you had together. When he came home from working away, there was nothing you loved more than waking up to find him next to you again. Morning sex was just a fun bonus.
Last night he’d come home and you’d had – by your own admission – the slowest, laziest sex you’d had in a while. But it didn’t really matter, because you were together. However, a shock came in the morning when you woke to find him snoring on top of you. Still inside you. You shifted against the mattress, trying to wake him up. Nothing. You slapped his back and he jumped into consciousness. The way he jolted made him push lightly against your walls.
Feeling ready to write again, so I’m starting with a super short drabble for @hiddelstannerbarnesx
It started with a text. Four words.
Are you done yet?
Chris was out at a table read. You were home alone, and you had woken up knowing that today was going to be another one of those days. In spite of everything, you felt sad. Unbearably, exhaustingly sad. Dodger sensed it and padded over to you, jumping up to stretch out on your lap. You traced lazy circles along his fur and glanced at your phone, hoping for a text.
An hour later, Chris was home. Dodger didn’t move, and that’s how Chris knew something was wrong. He didn’t call out, he just walked into the living room and wrapped his arms around you from the back of the sofa, placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head. You placed your hands over his and breathed deeply, inhaling him, basking in his warmth and his soothing energy. This was all you needed. Now and always.
Summary: Reader has some troubling feelings for her professor and she thinks he might feel the same.
Previosuly titled: And a crappy New Year
WARNINGS:teacher student relationship, AGE GAP (10 years), swearing, little bit of frisky stuff. (ONLY READ IF YOU’RE COMFORTABLE)
A/N:Okay so I’m legit so happy with the turn out of this one and it would mean so much to me if you guys told me what you thought! I’m also hoping to make possibly anothe rpart or two detailling more into the relationship so stay tuned for that
“Wanda hurry up, we’re gonna be late,” you huffed gripping tightly onto your coffee, eagerly waiting for your friend to be ready so you could get to your morning history class.
“I don’t know how I let you talk me into this, it’s not even my major. I was perfectly happy with my goddamned afternoon psychology classes,” she grumbled while pulling on her boots and straightening out her clothes. “Okay I’m ready.” she nodded. “And I hope this professor is really as worth it as everyone makes him out to be.”
I decided to bring this back in honor of @the-ce-horniest-book-club Steggy Weekend event because I fudged the post the first time around and honestly? I’m just kinda proud of it. So, I hope you enjoy it! x
Word count: 653
Warning(s): mention of war/PTSD reference
It’s closing in on midnight in the dark corner of a near-empty bar in Brooklyn. A waitress clears a beer stein and wine glass from a dusty table. She stands and watches the two lovers by the jukebox, swaying cheek to cheek. She doesn’t have the heart to tell them to leave quite yet. She’s mesmerized.
The collar of Steve’s dress shirt is undone, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Peggy’s hand is on his chest, fingers pressed against warm skin. Even with his arm around her in a graceful slow dance, she can feel his strength. He always held her like this. Tender. Protective. She sighs as the subtle scent of his cologne drifts across her face and mingles with her perfume. Neither of them know when, or if, they’ll have the chance to do this again. Steve’s hand is on the small of Peggy’s back. He pulls her closer into him. They breathe in a singular rhythm.
The music stops, but they’re still dancing. A cool breeze rushes through the open double doors.
“Walk me home, Captain Rogers.”
That’s an order.
They say goodnight with a chaste kiss. Peggy watches Steve walk away, jacket slung over his shoulder. He turns under a streetlamp to give her one last smile.
Then, darkness.
Rattling metal. A bomber plummeting to the ground. Bursts of flame. The crackle of a dying intercom. Silence.
