Dancing With Our Hands Tied

hey besties i made a google doc with the first chapter of tlkof in case anyone has trouble reading from pictures

big thanks to @wikitpowers for sending me the chapter <3

Google Docs

The Last King of Faerie - Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE "Are we lost?" Drusilla Blackthorn said, peering across the darkened field toward the horizon. "Tell me we're not lost." Her r

strawberry swiss snail 🍓

dancing with our hands tied

summary: you ride steve’s bicep

warnings: degradation, being tied up (ropes), ass slapping, captain kink, dumbification if you squint, choking

18+ ONLY || MINORS DON’T INTERACT

word count: 909

a/n: i have no excuse for this, i’m just so h word for chris evans i can’t function correctly. also this would be nomad!steve cause no other steve would be as mean as him. i do think he’s more about praise than anything but i was really angry when i wrote this so i took it out on this—OH MY GOD WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO EXPLAIN EVERYTHING?!?!

steve’s big rough hand, weathered from years of fighting and punching bags in the gym, holds your hip tightly as he aids your movements on his tensed up arm.

“that’s it, doll,” he says as he watches your pussy glide over the firm muscle. there’s a mix of your own juices and his cum, leaving the skin shiny and wet.

it takes you a few seconds to find a rhythm. your arms are tied behind your back, so you need steve’s help to keep you straight as you experiment with different rolls of your hips.

“captain,” you whine when you are finally able to move on your own. “feels so good.”

steve chuckles, looking at your blissed-out face as you roll your hips needily, no longer needing his help. “i know it does. look at you getting off on my arm. aren’t you ashamed of being such a greedy slut?”

you whimper at his words, the fire inside you burning hotter and hotter with every word he utters. even if you were ashamed—which you certainly are not— you know the answer he wants to hear.

you shake your head. a loud smack! on your ass jostles you forward, a squeaky moan leaving your mouth. “use your fucking words. or are you so dumb you can’t even speak properly?”

if only the world could see its golden boy now, resting on his back as he spouts filth as if it was one of the prayers he memorised as a kid while he watches you glide your pussy on his arm.

“no, captain,” you moan after a particularly perfect roll. “i-i’m only a little slut for you to order around.”

he hums while grabbing one of your ass cheeks and squishing it while moving you along. you can’t help but shiver in pleasure. the way he is still able to manhandle you even in this position makes you dizzy. “oh you’re more than that, honey. i told you before, come on, think. or is that too hard for your little brain, hm?”

you try to remember, you really do; you wrack your hazy mind for all the degrading names he’s called you. but you can’t form a coherent thought, because steve starts to flex his arm, making the veins pop and add texture to the area you glide along. you moan loudly, losing some of your rhythm as you chase your high.

“i can’t remember,” you cry softly. “m’sorry, captain.”

steve tsks, another slap on your ass echoing in the room. “guess i made you too stupid with my cock earlier,” he shrugs his unoccupied shoulder. “i’ll have to remind you then, make sure you remember exactly what you are.”

you moan when he pinches one of your nipples, your hips rutting fast against his flexed arm. “please,” you whine. “help me remember, want to be good for you.”

steve rolls his eyes, pretending to be unbothered by you and your needy sounds. but his weeping cock, which is resting against his toned stomach and ready for another round, tells you another story. “god, you’re so needy,” he scoffs.

his hand moves up towards your neck, his fingers closing around your throat and pressing on the sides. you can’t help the pathetic sound that escapes you, your hips now moving in circles that make your swollen clit rub perfectly against the muscle.

“f’you,” you whimper. “needy just f’you.”

steve smirks, still holding on to your throat. “that’s right, doll. only i can turn my pretty girl into a needy slut.” he looks at you with disdain, “it’s pathetic, honey.”

you sob as you bounce on the mattress, not even realising the strength of your movements. you’re so close, you just need a few more pushes, and then you’ll be free falling for the fourth time today.

you chase your high desperately, rutting so fast against steve’s bicep you wonder how your hips can still move at such a pace. “say it, honey,” says steve in the same commanding tone he used when training the new avengers. “say exactly what you are. make your captain proud and he’ll let you cum.”

“p-pathetic, needy slut,” your chest heaves. you’re so close, so so close. “i’m a pathetic ‘n needy slut f’you, captain.”

“good girl,” steve finally lets go of your neck, pushing his thumb into your mouth so you can suck on it. you try to wrap your hand around his wrist, but the ropes keeping your hands behind your back don’t let you. you whine in complaint, your lips wrapped around steve’s thick thumb as if it were a lollipop.

“you’re close aren’t you, honey?” steve chuckles when you nod and garble something akin to “yes, captain”. “cum all over my arm, doll. be good for me and make a mess.”

with a strangled moan, you finally let the tension inside your tummy dissolve, a wave of indescribable pleasure washing all over you. your thighs close around his bicep, shockwaves rocking your body as everything around you fades to nothing for a few seconds. steve’s thumb falls from your mouth, which was opened wide in a silent scream. you tremble above him, broken moans leaving your mouth as you come down from your high.

steve waits patiently for you to calm down, his hand on your back soothing you. when you turn to look at him, your eyesight slightly bleary, he raises an eyebrow. “aren’t you going to clean up your mess?”

when men roll up their sleeves and show their slutty little forearms i wither away like a victorian man seeing ankles for the first time

Ethereal

A/N: I couldn't stop thinking about living next to puppy Steve and not knowing he's cap. So here's a mini-series!

Series Masterlist

Part 2

Pairing: TWS!Steve Rogers x Neighbor!Reader

Summary: When you move into your new apartment the last thing you'd expected was the greek god living next door to you.

Warnings: Steve is a literal golden retriever, riding on a motorcycle, mutual pining (a lot), reader doesn't know Steve is Cap, alcohol consumption, being awkward, first date vibes, Steve is a cutie.

Word Count: 5300

The beautiful divider is by @firefly-graphics

When you found a cheap apartment in an old but well-kept building in Brooklyn Heights, you were relieved.

You'd been searching for a new place to live for a while, after you found out the building you'd been living in was going co-op.

You had no means to pay for that old apartment, and even if you did, you wouldn't have wanted to. It was run down, new problems seemingly appearing every day, and there was no way you would have tied yourself to that place for good.

So when you found your new apartment you were excited; the building was old, but clearly well taken care of, and it was in a safe neighborhood. You lived in Williamsburg before, so you had no problem with staying in Brooklyn. In fact, you preferred it.

It took you about an hour to get to university, but you didn't mind the travel time. You would always spend that time studying, catching up on whatever you were missing, or getting ahead of next weeks readings.

You'd also always loved riding on the train; it could be hot, and cramped, and uncomfortable, but it also provided you with a sort of peace. You enjoyed people watching, or gazing out the window with your headphones on. Riding on the train provided a forced tranquility, because you knew, no matter what, you had to spend an hour or so on there. And so it forced you to disconnect with the outside world and in turn, connect with yourself. Even if it was just for a little while.

The day you moved into your new apartment you remember a feeling of curiosity. You remember lugging your boxes up to the top floor and down the hall, unlocking your front door as your gaze moved to the door further down the hall.

Your neighbor lived at the end of the hallway, while you lived to the right. You didn't know anything about who occupied the space; the only thing you knew was that someone lived there, by the doormat placed on the floor.

The apartment didn't have a specific name attached to its mailbox, only initials, and that was both intriguing and unsettling.

S. G. R.

You've met many people in your life who value their privacy, but not even providing a name on their own mailbox seemed excessive to you. Your first thought was how much of a hassle it must be to have packages delivered - you know for a fact that your online shopping habit would severely suffer if your name wasn't properly visible on your mailbox.

You moved in with no issues, other than a bit of sweat and a few groans of exhaustion.

Within a month, you'd gotten used to living there; it was almost like you'd lived there your entire life. You'd always leave early in the morning to get to class, and you'd often arrive home after dinner time, choosing to stay on campus to study, or go out with your friends.

All in all, it was a normal apartment, and it allowed you to live a completely ordinary life.

Until that fateful day back in March.

You arrive home earlier than usual. The entire day has been a disaster; first you missed your train, resulting in you being late for class, and then you spilled your coffee down the front of your shirt as you were walking across campus. When class was over, you'd talked yourself into staying and catch up on your reading, only to realize you'd forgotten the book for the course you needed to catch up on.

With a heavy sigh, and even heavier footsteps, you trudge up the stairs to your apartment. You're cursing yourself for forgetting your book, because you know that once you're inside, your urges will get the best of you, and you'll probably end up watching TV instead of catching up on your studies.

You release another heavy sigh when you reach your floor, turning the corner in the direction of your front door. Your eyes are locked on your feet as they carry you along, your bones tired and exhausted from this utter disappointment of a day.

But then your ears perk up when you hear the familiar sound of a key sliding into a lock.

Your eyes flit up to look ahead of you, breath almost hitching when they land on a tall blonde man, his broad back hunched over slightly as he unlocks his door.

Your feet still, making you stop just a few steps from your front door. The change in movement makes the stranger ahead of you glance over his shoulder, his brows furrowing for a moment before he turns around to face you.

"Hi," he says, grazing you with a dazzling smile, "You must be my new neighbor."

His voice is deep yet gentle, matching the hypnotizing features on his face. A strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones, matched with a pair of bright blue eyes and pink, plump lips.

He's fucking ethereal.

You can practically feel your heart hammering against your ribcage as you take in his full form, eyes gazing over his 6'2 frame. Broad shoulders to match his back, curving into a narrow waist, and legs that go on for days. His short, blonde hair is a little mussed up, his eyebrows raised in a question.

He's wearing a navy blue jacket, which matches his jeans, and a white t-shirt underneath. Entirely ordinary yet painfully breathtaking.

You're not sure you've ever seen a specimen quite like him.

When he tilts his head ever so slightly, you snap out of the daze he brought you in.

"Yeah, uh, hi. I guess I am. I just moved in."

You gesture towards your front door, and the stranger nods in acknowledgement.

"I heard some ruckus," he chuckles, bright white teeth practically blinding you, "I'm sorry I didn't come around to introduce myself earlier, I've been a little preoccupied with work."

You wave a dismissive hand as you smile, "Oh, no worries. I know how it is. But I'm glad we finally met, I was starting to wonder who lived next door."

"Yeah?" He asks with a grin, "Why?"

"Because I've never seen anyone," you chuckle, "I was starting to suspect it was an investment property or something. Figured no one lived there."

The stranger laughs, the sound a bubbling melodic tune that makes your heart beat excitedly. It's a beautiful, genuine sound, that makes you feel special in a way you can't quite explain.

"Oh, I live here, don't you worry," he replies, his smile turning softer, "I've been away for a little while, but I'm back now. I did hear you move in, though, but I had to leave for work early the next day, so I didn't have time to come by and welcome you to the building."

You nod, "Okay, I see. What do you do for work?"

His brows furrow momentarily before he shrugs, "You know, I work jobs here and there. I travel a lot, though."

"You're an easy neighbor to have, then," you joke, tilting your head, "I guess I won't have to worry about you making a noise complaint."

He laughs again, the sound is practically addicting to your ears, "No, you won't have to worry about that, I promise. I usually keep to myself."

You nod and hum, holding eye contact for a moment longer before your eyes dart to your front door, "Good to know.. Well, it was really nice to meet you, uhh..?"

He smiles, hesitating for a moment before he says, "Steve. Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you too."

Two days later, you're out for drinks with your friends, excitedly telling them about the greek god living next door to you.

"I swear to god, he's fucking ethereal. Like, insane. I can't even explain it."

You take another large sip of your drink as your friends giggle.

"You have to show me a picture!" Janine says excitedly, eyes wide as she looks at you, "Come on, show us his social media!"

"That's the thing!" You exclaim, placing your drink perhaps a bit too harshly back on the table, "I tried to look him up but I couldn't find any social media accounts for him. It was so frustrating because apparently he shares a name with one of those Avenger guys, so it was practically impossible."

You take another eager sip as your friend, Melanie, narrows her eyes at you, "What do you mean he shares a name with one of the Avengers? Who?"

You wave your hand dismissively, "I don't fucking know those guys, you know that, but when I googled his name all of these articles for those guys showed up so I couldn't find anything on him. I didn't feel like sifting through all of that."

Your friends share a knowing look before Melanie leans closer to you on the table, "What did you say his name was?"

"Steve," you chirp, sipping your drink through the straw happily, "Steve Rogers."

Your friends share another look, although this one seems more shocked than before, making you look between the two of them.

"What?" You ask, watching their expressions, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing!" Janine immediately interjects, glancing quickly at Melanie before she looks back at you, "It's nothing. But that sucks, you gotta take a sneaky picture next time you're able to."

You snort, "Okay, I'll try, but I haven't seen him since we met the other day. He gets really busy with work, apparently."

"I'm sure he does..." Melanie replies, taking another sip of her drink.

After one too many cocktails, you called an uber to get back home. You're trying to stay focused as you walk up the stairs to your apartment, swaying ever so slightly with every step.

"Almost there," you mumble as you reach the final step, "God I'm tired.."

You round the corner and head towards your door, pulling your keys out of your bag.

Right as you find the right one, and struggle to slide it into the lock, your neighbors' door opens.

"Hey," a deep voice says, making you glance in its direction, "You okay?"

Your eyes find a pair of beautiful cerulean ones, your cheeks growing warm at his presence.

"Yeah," you drunkenly giggle, moving your attention back to your key as you try to slide it into the lock, "I'm fine, just need to figure out how to unlock the door.."

You hear a quiet chuckle and then approaching footsteps before Steve is standing right beside you, a large hand reaching out to cover your own.

"Here, let me help you."

He easily unlocks your door, handing the keys back to you with a smile.

"Thank you," you hiccup, smiling goofily up at him, "You didn't have to, I could have figured it out myself.. Eventually.."

"Yeah," he chuckles, smiling down at you, "But then you'd probably have spent half your night out here."

You giggle again, shaking your head, "Noooo, I would have figured it out."

"Mhmm," Steve hums, placing a strong hand on the small of your back when you stumble where you stand, "Sure. You need help getting inside?"

"No no," you immediately respond, frowning up at him seriously, "I'm a big girl, I can handle myself."

"Okay, big girl," Steve chuckles as you step over the threshold, "Just make sure to drink some water, okay? And maybe some painkillers, too."

"Will do," you grin, gripping the door handle to keep you steady, "Thank you, Steve."

"Anytime."

3 days later you're walking home from school when you notice a motorcycle parked in front of your building. You look it over for a minute, impressed by how well kept it is despite it being an older model. You don't know a lot about motorcycles, but you know enough to realize it's a Harley-Davidson and that the design is a classic.

Your dad taught you what little knowledge you possess on motorcycles since he owned a Harley himself back when you were a kid.

You hesitantly let your fingers graze over the cushioned leather seat, the material soft against your fingertips.

"This is nice," you mumble to yourself absentmindedly, brows furrowing momentarily. It's clean, practically shiny, which makes you wonder where it's usually parked. Whoever owns it must have a covered parking space for it.

Just as your fingers lift from the leather cushion, the building door opens. Your eyes flit up to the figure walking down the steps to your building, heading in your direction, and you feel a flurry of butterflies when you recognize the man approaching you.

He's wearing a brown leather jacket this time, with a grey t-shirt underneath, a pair of blue jeans to finish off the look.

You can practically see the outline of his undoubtedly defined abs through the tight t-shirt and the thought alone makes your cheeks heat up.

"Hi Steve," you say with a smile as he walks in your direction.

His face splits into a wide smile, shoving his hands into his pockets once he descends the steps and walks over to where you're standing by the bike, "Hey neighbor. Nice to see you again. How's your head?"

Haven't had any complaints so far...

You chuckle, resisting the urge to make the dirty joke that popped into your mind, a small shake of your head as you speak, "That was 3 days ago. Hangover is long gone. But thank you for helping me inside, that was nice of you."

"Of course," he beams, a bashful shrug of his shoulders, "It was nothing. What else are neighbors for, right?"

"Right," you nod, smiling shyly when your eyes flit down to the motorcycle in an effort to hide your flushing cheeks.

"You like it?" Steve asks when he notices your gaze trailing over the bike, "Just pulled it out of storage today. Figured it was time to take it for a ride, now that the weather is getting warmer."

Your eyes dart up to meet his, brows raised in surprise, "This is yours?"

"Yeah," Steve replies, patting the leather seat as if it was a horse, "I used to have a different one but I like this newer model, too. Drives like a dream."

"Of course it does," you snort, fingers lightly touching the sleek silver on the side, "It's a Soft Slim, they're spectacular. Harley does good work in general, but they certainly stepped their game up with this model."

Steve quirks a brow at you, his eyes slowly moving over your face as you continue looking at his bike, "You know motorcycles?"

You shrug, "A little bit. My dad is a Harley-Davidson enthusiast, so I know some. Not a lot, though. But I know this model. She's a beaut."

"Yeah, she is," Steve chuckles, his head tilting slightly as he looks at you, "I was just about to go for a ride. Care to join me?"

The brisk spring air breezing through your hair send shivers down your spine as you race down the almost deserted highway. Steve takes an exit, heading towards New Jersey, and you cling to him as your arms are wrapped around his waist.

He's in complete control of the bike in a way that seems almost effortless; it moves with him in every turn, and even at high speeds, you sense no hesitation in him.

It almost feels like flying.

Your arms tighten their hold a little more when the cold air nips at the bare skin on your neck, instinctively burrowing your face into his back.

He tilts his head slightly, and lifts his shoulder, seemingly inviting you to tuck your face into the crook of his neck.

You only hesitate for a moment before you bury your face in his neck, pressing your chest to his back, his warm skin heating you up almost instantly. He tilts his head more to give you proper space, leaning his back into your chest.

Your arms tighten in response, a small smile grazing your lips as you breathe in deeply. His clean and fresh scent envelopes you, making the shivers running down your back happen for a very different reason than before.

Your thighs tighten where they are on the outer side of his, holding onto him more firmly, and by all accounts, it appears he's enjoying it.

He speeds up experimentally, making you let out a small squeak before you hold onto him even tighter, and you swear you hear the melodic sound of his laugh before it's swallowed up by the wind.

Eventually Steve brings you back home, the city of Brooklyn enveloped in darkness, the lampposts on the side of the road the only thing lighting your way.

He drives into a spot in front of the building and you reluctantly unwrap your arms from his waist, sliding off the bike.

He parks the bike and gets off, standing in front of you with a soft smile on his lips. His cheeks are the faintest shade of pink, probably from the cold, and his hair is mussed up in a cute way that makes you yearn to run your fingers through it.

You smile up at him, another small shiver running down your spine, and Steve immediately notices. He shrugs his jacket off, placing it over your shoulders, "I'm sorry, I should have figured you'd get cold. I hope it wasn't too bad?"

He has no idea you've been shivering this entire time, or that your shivers are triggered by something other than the cold.

"It's okay," you respond with a warm smile, "I wasn't cold while you were driving, you're surprisingly hot."

Steve's lips lift into a goofy grin, making you immediately backtrack, "Oh my god, uh, I mean warm. You're surprisingly warm."

"I got it, don't worry," he chuckles, placing a protective hand on the small of your back before he starts guiding you in the direction of your building, "Let me walk you up."

You chuckle, walking beside him up the steps, "I don't think it counts as walking me up when you're going the same direction yourself."

He snorts and shakes his head, "Probably not. But I would have done it if I didn't live here, too."

"Such a gentleman," you muse, your fingers gripping the hem of his jacket. It smells like him, that clean, fresh scent, and you'd want to drown in that smell if you could.

"I try," he jokes, grinning at you quickly.

You reach your apartment door, and once you're standing in front of it, you slide his jacket off your shoulders, "Thank you for lending this to me. That was nice."

"Even if it was short lived," Steve responds as he takes his jacket from you, "I'm sorry I didn't give it to you before we left on the drive."

"Steve, don't worry about it," you reply earnestly, "I promise, I wasn't cold. Not until I had to unwrap myself from you, at least."

Steve's eyes lock on yours, a tension filling the small space between the two of you as you look up at him. His smile is soft, gentle, a quiet hum leaving his lips as he nods.

"I'm sorry you had to do that, then."

"It's alright," you grin teasingly, "Maybe I'll get to do it again some time."

"I would love that," Steve immediately responds, a wide smile breaking out on his lips, "For there to be a next time, I mean. Doesn't have to be a drive, either."

"No?" You tease, your head tilting as your eyes stay locked on his, "What did you have in mind?"

"A cup of coffee?" He asks, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit hallway.

"I like coffee," you smile, nodding, "I'd love to."

"It's a date," he firmly replies, his fingers fiddling with the keys in his hand, "Maybe in the next few days?"

"Sure!" You beam up at him, immediately reaching into your bag, "Let me give you my number, that might make it easier to plan."

"Oh, uh, yeah, okay," Steve responds, hands clasping over his pockets almost as if he's unsure where his phone is.

When he brings out a flip phone, you snort. "That's your phone?"

Steve's cheeks tinge pink, this time certainly not from the cold, a small nod of his head, "Yeah, I uh.. I'm not really good with technology. Needed something easy."

You chuckle, "Okay, fair enough."

You take his phone, putting your number in and sending yourself a text. "There. Now we have each others numbers. Just text me when you have time to grab that cup of coffee."

"Will do," Steve responds, lingering for a moment as he stands in front of you.

When he suddenly leans down and places a quick kiss on your cheek, your breath hitches, and you fight the urge to pull him closer.

"I had a great time," he says as he takes a few steps backwards, in the direction of his apartment, "Have a good night."

"Goodnight, Steve."

A few days pass without you running into Steve in the hallway again. It's also been very quiet, you haven't heard a peep from your neighbor, which is surprising because the walls aren't that thick. You can always hear your downstairs neighbor, especially if they're listening to music or have people over, so you're surprised you never hear anything from Steve.

No movement, no accidental run ins, no noises. Nothing. Only silence.

It makes you wonder if he's even home.

A week after your bike ride, you finally hear from him.

You're sitting on your couch, watching one of your favorite shows on TV while binging a tub of ice cream. It's Saturday night, and you weren't in the mood to go out even though your friends tried to convince you. It'd been a long week at university and the only thing you were in the mood for this weekend was to stay at home in your sweats and watch silly sitcoms to get your mind to relax.

You phone chimes just after 8pm, alerting you to a text message.

You pick up your phone while licking your spoonful of ice cream clean, your eyes flicking from the TV to your phone screen. Your brows raise in surprise when you see who it's from, a snort leaving your lips.

Steve Rogers: How's your Saturday night?

You: Oh hello there, stranger. I was starting to think perhaps you'd moved

Steve Rogers: I'm sorry, I had a work emergency I had to take care of. I've been gone for the past few days, just got back. How has your week been?

Your brows furrow at his response. What does this guy do for work?

The last time you asked, his response was pretty vague, but he obviously does something that's important enough for him to leave without notice. Often.

You: It's been alright, nothing exciting to report. Mainly just studying and classes. How's yours been?

Steve Rogers: A little rough. Had to deal with a tough project at work, but it's over now, luckily. At home licking my wounds now

You: Wounds? Literal or metaphorical?

Steve Rogers: Little of both

You blink in surprise, putting down your ice cream to be able to text quicker.

You: What? Are you hurt?

Steve Rogers: I'll be okay, I'm just tired. I'm sorry I didn't follow up on our coffee date, though. I hope you didn't lose faith in me

You: Was just about to, but then you texted, so I'll give you another chance

Steve Rogers: Yeah? When do you have time?

Steve Rogers: Are you busy right now?

Your brows raise in surprise at the double text as well as the question.

You: It's a little late for coffee, don't you think?

Steve Rogers: How about tea, then?

You manage to tidy yourself up a little bit, tossing on a tank-top instead of the oversized shirt you were wearing when there's a knock on your door.

You're still in your sweats from earlier, but you don't really mind that; he messaged you with very short notice, so he couldn't exactly be expecting you to look all dressed up.

You unlock your door before opening it, grinning up at Steve when he comes into view, "Hey there."

"Hi," Steve smiles, his hands shoved into his pockets, "Nice to see you again."

You let your eyes trail over his form; he's in a white t-shirt, one that's tight and allows you to see the firm outline of his torso (you suspect tight t-shirts are his signature, by now), and you apparently guessed right on keeping your sweats on, because he's in a pair of his own. A grey pair, to be exact.

Your eyes move up to take in the features of his face, lingering on his beautiful, baby blue eyes and pink plump lips. But then your brows instantly furrow when you notice the small mark on his cheekbone.

"Oh," you breathe out, instinctively stepping closer, and before you can even stop yourself, you reach up, letting your fingers gently touch the skin right below the mark, "Are you okay?"

You can tell Steve tenses at your touch, making you immediately remove your hand before you step back again, mumbling, "Uh, sorry, I shouldn't-"

"No, it's alright," Steve interrupts, putting up a hand to stop you, "Don't worry, I was just caught off guard. It hurts a little, but it'll go away soon. Promise."

"Okay," you reply with a small nod, smiling softly as your eyes meet his. Then you step aside, gesturing to your apartment, "Well, come on in."

Steve smiles as he walks inside, continuing further as you close the door behind him. He wanders into the open kitchen, eyes moving over the space and to the living room area.

"This is nice," he hums, placing his hands in his pockets, "I like what you did with the place."

You chuckle, "Thanks. I only buy the finest Ikea furniture."

Steve lets out a melodic laugh, following your movement when you walk into the kitchen. You reach up to pull open the cupboard as you ask, "So, what kind of tea do you like?"

You don't hear a response immediately, but you almost jump in surprise when you suddenly hear his voice from right behind you, "What kinds do you have?"

You glance over your shoulder, eyes locking with the blonde man towering over you. You smirk, "Well, you tell me. Seems like you can see better than I can."

Steve snorts, stepping closer before his attention is pulled to the inside of the cupboard. He reaches up, his chest brushing against your back when he grabs for a packet and places it on the counter in front of you, "I like this one."

You release a quiet, unsteady breath when you feel the warmth of him pressing against your back, your fingers reaching for the packet of tea.

"Black tea," you hum, picking two tea bags out of the box, "Good choice."

You slide a little to the side, reaching for two mugs in a different cupboard, still nervously aware of his close presence.

"I'm glad you think so," Steve hums, following your movement. He stands behind you again, taking the mugs for you when you stand up on your tip toes to reach them, "Did you know that was the kind of tea the British soldiers drank during World War II?"

Your brows raise in surprise, looking up at him over your shoulder, "No, I didn't. That's pretty cool."

Steve grins, nodding as he places the two mugs on the counter, "Yeah, uh, actually the British government bought out practically all the tea in Europe in order to be able to give them to the soldiers on the frontlines."

"Wow," you respond, your brows furrowing, "That's actually crazy. How could they even do that?"

You walk over to the kettle, filling it with water so you can boil it, while Steve moves to lean on your kitchen counter. He shrugs, "Guess they just decided it was worth it, to keep morale up."

"Hm," you hum, turning on the kettle before you turn to him, "That was really nice of them. I didn't think the government cared much about their soldiers, to be honest. All you ever hear about are the glory while they're away, and then those horror stories when they come back and have PTSD."

Steve's face falls a little, his hands going back into his pockets as he nods slowly, "Yeah, I guess you're right. Perhaps the British government cared more about their soldiers then they do here.."

"Yeah," you mumble, your fingers reaching for the packet to fiddle with it, "My brother was actually in the army.."

"He was?" Steve asks curiously, "For how long?"

"A long time," you sigh, "Too long. He wasn't the same when he came back home.."

"That happens," Steve replies quietly, "A lot, unfortunately."

You glance over at him, watching how his eyes are trained on the floor. You tilt your head, asking hesitantly, "Is that something you know a lot about? The army?"

"Kinda," he shrugs, offering you a small smile when he looks back up at you, "I was also in the army. I still kind of am, I guess.." He cringes a little, making you turn to directly face him.

You take a small step closer, slowly lifting your hand until your fingers are almost brushing his cheek as you hold eye contact, "Is that how you got this?"

Steve's lips part in a nervous breath when you lean closer, his hands bracing the edge of the counter as he leans on it. His baby blues hold yours, dipping his head ever so slightly until your fingertips trail over his skin.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"But you're not shipped out?" You inquire, your fingers trailing down his cheek to his jaw, "You live here, and you don't go away for months at a time."

"I'm a.. different kind of soldier," he whispers, his face slowly leaning closer to yours, "But I used to be in the army."

"So, you got promoted?" You tease, your voice low. Your fingers trail down his jaw, to the column of his neck, Steve's breath hitching when the delicate touch tickles his skin.

"You could say that," he smiles softly, his eyes burning into yours intensely as he continues slowly leaning closer, "The job isn't very different, though. But I get to go home more often."

You hum, nodding slowly as your fingers curl around his neck hesitantly. You break eye contact for a moment, eyes dropping to his lips, your stomach doing a flip when his tongue darts out to lick them.

Your eyes raise up to meet his again, the hand curled around the back of his neck slowly pulling him closer until you can feel your breaths mixing.

You look up at him with wide eyes, your nerves on edge, and it's almost like your mind goes blank when he whispers, "Can I kiss you?"

You nod immediately, there's no way in hell you'd ever say no.

Steve's eyes drop to your lips, inching himself closer until they softly brush over yours, and then you let out a content sigh when he presses them firmly against your own. You pull him closer by the hand curled around his neck, one large hand landing on your waist to pull you into his chest.

Your other hand slides up his chest to his shoulder, gripping it as your lips glide over his in perfect synchronization.

You lose yourself in the softness of his lips, your unsteady breaths mixing, and you're only faintly aware when you hear the water boiling in the background.

Hidden Fantasy

So i’m sure we’ve all thought about this. Well at least I have. I’m a proud shameless hoe for Chris Evans and more specifically, Steve Rogers. I’ve had this idea for awhile and thought what better time to post it than for @stargazingfangirl18​ and @navybrat817​ #shamelesshoesforchris. It is explicit so please proceed with caution. 

Prompts used:

“Oh God, Did I say that out loud?

“Okay, wait, that kind of turned me on”

“We’re not done yet”

If it sucks, i’m sorry. But I greatly enjoyed writing it! 

Rating:Explicit

Words:1.6k

Warnings: Smut, embarrassment, Steve’s Arms

Steven Grant Rogers.

It sometimes still amazed you that he was yours. Sometimes you had to pinch yourself to remind you it was real. He was your man. He was the best boyfriend you could’ve asked for. Sweet, considerate, old fashioned, and charming.

Not to mention the sex was amazing.

You really didn’t know going into the relationship what sex with him was going to be like. You didn’t really care because you liked him for who he was, not how he was in bed.

But what you weren’t expecting was for Steve to be a sex god. He was insatiable. Having you at any chance he could get. Whether that be taking you in the back of the quinjet after a mission or bending you over his desk in his office. When he wanted you, he took you.

Not that you had any complaints. You were a proud shameless hoe for the Super Soldier and you let him take you any way he wanted.

You 2 had indulged in a couple fantasies you had (role play, spanking, tying each other up). But there was something you had always wanted to do but were way too embarrassed to ask or even bring it up.

You were insanely attracted to his arms. They really did something for you. All it took was for him to wrap you in a warm hug or wrap his arm around you while watching tv and all of a sudden you needed new panties.

Or now, when he was lifting weights, watching his muscles flex. You were supposed to be getting your run in on the treadmill but had come to a slow walk not being able to take your eyes off him.

God you just wanted to ride his biceps. And yes you are aware of how weird and kind of creepy that sounds. You hadn’t brought it up to him because you didn’t want him recommending you to a therapist. But you couldn’t help yourself. You had a dream about it and ever since, it’s all you wanted to do.

Steve must feel eyes on him because he looks around the room until he sees you. He gives you a wink and goes back to his weights. The wink makes you stumble so you decide it’s probably best you get off the treadmill.

Natasha and Wanda walk by talking animatedly about something. They look over and see you drooling over your boyfriend. They turn and smirk at each other.

“Hey, Y/N. You have some drool right here.” Nat teases as she points to the corner of your mouth. You quickly bring your hand to your mouth to wipe it away. Your cheeks start to heat up in embarrassment.

“Hey don’t be embarrassed, you and Steve are still in your honeymoon phase. Totally normal to be drooling over him.” Wanda says sweetly, trying to make you feel better.

“Thanks, sometimes I can’t help it.” You reply as you once again look over to Steve who has now started sparring with Sam.

Your mind has once again drifted back to his arms. You tilt your head to the side and watch as he pins Sam on the mat. ‘Jesus Christ, I just want to hump his arms.’ You think as you watch him help Sam to a standing position.

All of a sudden you hear snickering and you look over and see Nat and Wanda laughing behind their hands. Your eyes widen. “Oh god, Did I say that out loud?”

“You sure did and I think some Super Soldier ears heard you.” Nat continues laughing as her and Wanda walk towards another sparring mat.

You reluctantly look up and sure enough Steve is staring at you. He looks somewhat amused. Great, now he probably realizes how much of a weirdo he’s dating. You break eye contact and quickly make your way out of the gym as fast as you can.

You decide that just staying in your room was the best option at this point. You didn’t want to face anyone knowing that Nat has probably told the whole tower by now that you want to ride your boyfriend’s impressive arms.

You’re getting ready to bury yourself in your couch when you hear a knock on your door.

You decided to ignore it and go back to your burrito state on the couch. But whoever is knocking is persistent and won’t let up.

You sigh heavily and throw your blankets off of you and head towards the door. You look through the peephole and see Steve waiting patiently.

“Come on doll, I know you’re in there. Open up please.”

Well how can you say no to that? So you hesitantly open the door.  

You’re greeted with a pair of bright blue eyes and a warm smile. “Hi doll, may I come in?” You nod and stand aside allowing him to enter your room.

You close the door and turn around looking at him expectantly. He walks over and pulls you into a sweet kiss. You gladly accept the kiss and bring your arms up around his neck. Not realizing you’re doing it, you squeeze his biceps on the way up.  He chuckles and pulls away. “So, you like my arms huh?”

You press your forehead against his chest. “Can we please just forget I said anything?”

“No, I don’t think I can forget, doll. I believe you said you wanted to ‘hump my arms’. And what my baby wants, my baby gets.”

You snap your head up to look at his face. “What?” Is all you can manage to reply with.

“You heard me, I don’t need to repeat myself. Now I want you to be a good girl and strip for me.” He casually says as he walks towards your bed, stripping himself of his shirt and sweats.  

You just stand there for a moment not quite sure what’s about to happen. But when he turns around and sees that you haven’t stripped yet you quickly jump into action. Usually you like being punished when not listening to him but you’re too curious about what he’s getting at.

You hastily strip as you walk towards him. He lies back on the bed and casually starts palming himself through his dark blue boxer briefs. You can feel yourself getting wet as you stand there and watch him harden beneath his palm.

“Well come on doll, my bicep isn’t going to ride itself.” He says somewhat impatiently. You snap your eyes to his, noticing there is no sign of joking on his face. “Steve, I’m not going to ride your bicep, that’s embarrassing.”

“Why doll, you’ve ridden my thigh until you came. What’s any different really?” You still stand there, unsure if you really want to do this. “Y/N, get your ass over here and mount my arm before I do it for you.” He says sternly.

Not wanting to piss him off any further, you quickly climb up on the bed and straddle his right arm. You kind of just sit still, still too embarrassed to move.

“Come on sweetheart, ride me. I can feel how wet you are. Just let go.” He says as he stares up at you sweetly, still palming himself. You hesitate for just another second before you think ‘Fuck it, I may never get this opportunity again.’

You slowly move your hips back and forth against his arm and he pushes up into you just a little. You throw your head back and moan quietly as you pick up your pace a bit. Then he starts flexing his arm muscles and dear god the sensation makes you fall forward, placing one hand on the headboard and the other on his chest. You really start riding his arm while he continues to flex under you.

“That’s right sweetheart, take what you need from me. My dirty girl, wanting to ride my arm. Such a whore for me aren’t you? Now lean forward more, I want to suck on those beautiful tits.”

You whimper and pick up speed once more as you lean forward. He takes his hand off his erection and grabs your breast. He sucks his nipple into your mouth and bites down. You arch your back and moan out his name. You can feel your orgasm coming, it’s going to hit you, and hard. You move your hand that’s on the headboard and thread your fingers through his hair.

He can tell you’re close, he removes his hand from your breast and grabs onto your hip, helping you grind on him even harder and faster. “You gonna come for me, dirty girl? Gonna make a mess all over my arm? Come on sweetheart, make a mess on me.”

That was all you needed to tip you over the edge. You come hard with a silent scream and fall forward onto his chest, slowing the grinding of your hips until the aftershocks wear off. You pant heavily as you remove yourself from his arm and glance down at it, seeing the mess you made. You look over at his face and he’s looking at you expectantly. “Well come on doll, you better clean up the mess you made.” You go to get up to grab a towel when he grabs your arm.

“With your tongue, sweetheart. Make sure to lick me all clean.” You smirk down at him. “Okay, wait, that kind of turned me on.” You declare as you lean down and get to work on licking his arm from your slick.

“Yeah? That’s good cause we’re not done yet doll.” He goes back to palming his erection. You glance over at him as you lick the last of your mess up and see dark lust filled eyes looking back at you.

You feel a shiver run down your spine as you realize you’re in for a long night.

Imagine being Lilith. Within 104 years (the blink of an eye) you are twice outsmarted by a gold-eyed Herondale and his strong redheaded partner who you tried to manipulate. In the moments you're realizing this, having flashbacks of James Herondale holding his gun like blam-blam-motherfucker, some random vampire kid jumps in front of you and you turn into a pile of salt

hey besties i made a google doc with the first chapter of tlkof in case anyone has trouble reading from pictures

big thanks to @wikitpowers for sending me the chapter <3

Google Docs

The Last King of Faerie - Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE "Are we lost?" Drusilla Blackthorn said, peering across the darkened field toward the horizon. "Tell me we're not lost." Her r

I wish I can just time travel into the future to 2026 so I can read more about kit ty dru and ash because I can just tell they’re gonna be my fave protagonists

saw someone say that in the first chapter of LkoF Dru mentioned kit having picked up British isms? that's not in the version I found so is there another version or is that from sm else entirely? thanks!!