#college!chris evans

[sweetsbfreex]

who loves you

summary: a four month long situationship with Ari goes south when you see a text you shouldn't have

pairing: college!hockey player!ari x situationship/fwb!reader

warnings: none?

-

Fuck. You felt refreshed and blissed out as you sat up and stretched. Watching Ari’s bare, fit body disappear into his bathroom. 

It always surprised you how he showers without his phone because that meant he showered with no music. You couldn’t imagine taking a shower without music, how else would you fulfill your popstar dreams. But alas, Ari was different from a lot of the guys you’ve previously been with. 

You drop back against his bed, smiling at the ache between your legs. Ari was a lot of things and a sex god was definitely one of them. 

The incessant buzzing from a phone..his phone jerks you from your blissed out state.

Bzz-bzz

Ignore. 

Bzz-bzz

Ignore.

Bzz-bzz

Okay, what the hell?

You grab his phone beside you, it comes to life when you lift it. 

Joy ;)

—Meet you in the parking lot after? My place?

—I’ll wear the special panties with your number on them

You squint as more texts roll in. Special panties? Her place? The fucking winky emoji by her name?

What. The. Fuck. 

You stare in disbelief for who knows how long, feeling a little hurt and naive. 

“Why is my phone in your hand?”

Ari stands at the end of his bed. A towel wrapped around his hips as he runs another through his shoulder length hair. Your eyes can’t really help to worship the droplets over his chest. 

“Who’s Joy?” You push out the question. 

You can see something change in Ari as he walks over and takes his phone from your grasp. “None of your business, why are you snooping around”

You scoff, “I wasn’t snooping! It kept buzzing and I thought it was an emergency or something. Who’s Joy?” you question again, annoyed at the way he’s avoiding your question. 

“I don’t appreciate you looking through my phone. And she’s none of your fucking buisness, so drop it”

You stare up at him, subconsciously lifting his sheet to cover your bare chest. 

“You’re having sex with other people?” you accuse, and deep down you're confident you know the answer, but that naive part of you is hoping it’s all a misunderstanding. 

“And if I am? We’re just fucking around too. Are we not?”

Your breath stutters at his admission. Although the two of you have never stated terms of this…relationship, his actions have always spoken louder than words. Everyone thought the two of you were together. Even though he’s never formally asked you to be his girlfriend, you always had an inkling that he would at some point.

Your stomach flips thinking of his protectiveness over you, the way he’d always pay if he was there, and the way he goes out of his way to check up on you after his practices. Or the way you’re always there for him at every game, his number and name on your back as you cheer him on. 

Shit, even the sex was anything unlike a pair of friends. It always felt intimate between the two of you. Your toothbrush stood next to his in his bathroom, and yours, for Christ sakes. 

“Are you being serious right now?”

Ari shrugs. Fucking shrugs at your question.

“Y/n, I don’t understand why you’re upset. In no way have I ever committed myself to you.”

That stings. 

“You really don’t see it, do you?” You mutter, trying to blink away the tears forming in your eyes. 

“I don’t.” 

“Fuck you, Ari.” You seethe, dressing yourself with speed. “Have fun with Joy.” You tell him, buttoning your jeans, and gathering your shoes in your hand. Anything to get out of this humiliating scenario. 

You shove your way past Ari’s confused figure. Which stops you as he grabs your elbow, “I’m not understanding what the big deal is? You’re telling me you haven’t been sleeping around.” 

You remove your elbow from his grasp, “No. I haven’t. And if I did, I’d at least have the decency to let you know.” And with that, you’re out of the room. 

Ari stands there for at least a minute, disgruntled and confused with what the fuck just happened. He shakes his head trying to figure out whatever the fuck he was missing. 

-

“You’re a fucking idiot, a moron if you will. Maybe a dodo would fit better?—” Ransom laughs to himself as relaxes in his spot in the frats living room, snacking on his favorite biscuit cookies. 

“Ran,” Steve interrupts the way Ransom isn’t helping. Softly shaking his head in reprimandment. “Now isn’t the time.”

Ransom only shrugs, and looks back to the television. 

“I hate to say it, man. But Ransom is right, the only answer was in front of you the whole time.” Sam tosses in his opinion, clapping Ari on the back.

“Well what the fuck is it? Why is no one saying what I’m missing?”

“She likes you, Levinson.” Bucky answers, walking through the living room and out the door, his key to his motorcycle swirling around a finger. He didn’t need to know the full conversation to know what exactly was going on. He would’ve stayed to watch the aftermath, but he had a certain spicy redhead waiting for him at her apartment

Ari doesn’t mean to sound dramatic, but he quite literally feels the world tilt on its axis at the discovery. He’s admired you for a while, but never in his mind did he think he was the right guy for you. He’s seen the guys you’ve dated before and they were the complete opposite. 

Intelligent, brainy, in tons of clubs, they wouldn’t do stupid shit like fighting on ice skates because it’s fun. They were guys who any mother would love.

Fuck. He can’t believe this, there’s no way. 

“What—“ 

“Dude, you can’t be so blind, to not see how in love with you she basically is,” Ransom says around a mouth full of cookies. “The sex is probably great, but you think a chick like her is gonna wanna be around you without an ounce of admiration.” 

“I think what Ransom is trying to say is: there’s a lot of telling that y/n has feelings for you, and I’m pretty sure her getting offended that you’re sleeping with other people is a big one.” Steve says. 

“Fuck.” Ari groans, running his hand down his face and over his scruff.

“How would you feel if y/n told you she was screwing someone else?”  Sam asks. 

“Livid.” 

Sam snaps his finger pointing at the dark look already on Ari’s face. “There you go.” 

“Fuck. She’s not even answering my calls. What the hell am I supposed to do?” 

“Give her time to cool. If anything, maybe she’ll be at the game?” Steve offers.

“Maybe,” Ari mutters.

-

But you never picked up a single call and for some reason, even picked up that Ari thought of swinging by your apartment. You had texted him to leave you alone.

And then Saturday rolled around…

-

“How long have you been into hockey? I’d never take you up as a sports girl. Sorry that sounded terrible—“ 

“It’s okay, Jake.” You laugh. “Not until this year, you’re right I’m not really into sports at all. What about you?”

“I really got into it with my dad, we used to watch every game together if we could,” he smiles at the memories. 

“That’s really sweet,” you smile back, placing your hand over his. 

Jake Jensen is a computer science major you befriended over your French class last semester. But the both of you basically ran in the same social groups, leading to you guys staying friends. 

When talking about the upcoming game, you had let it slip that you passed the deadline to donate your ticket, and couldn’t find anyone to sell it to. Leaving you to go to the game alone or getting a strike. 

Jake was kind enough to let you join him. You would’ve joined Natasha and the others, but it felt too weird to you and you wanted no chance running into Ari. Especially since you weren’t wearing his jersey like you usually do. 

You haven’t spoken to him all week, minus the small text you sent, and you refused to. Even though he had tried non stop to run into you on campus. 

“Have you—“ Jake starts, but is interrupted by the commentators introducing the team. Everyone stood up and cheered at the sight of the school’s players. 

-

Ari skates out with a smile on his face, lifting a hand in the air as he waves and joins the line of his teammates. As he does so, he tries to find you, but it’s hard to distinguish you among the wave of people in the stadium. Especially since you weren’t seated in your undesignated-designated seat closer to the rink. 

But he shakes it off, putting himself in the right mindset for the game. 

-

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our favorite time of the night: THE KISS CAM!” 

Some players skate and others like Ari, watch the Jumbotron during the brief break.

The first is an elderly couple, then a pair of random strangers who kiss under the playful pressure, two pairs of students, parents with their children who dramatically gag. That makes everyone chuckle, including himself.

They go around the stadium one last and he cannot fucking believe it. His hand becomes around his stick.

He can feel his teammates staring at him in sympathy. But Ari cannot look away from the Jumbotron. 

The first thing he notices is your flustered smile, that you came to the game sans his jersey, and the most noticeable of all is the dork sitting next to you with his arm behind your seat, looking just as bashful.

He’s livid. You’ve been avoiding him all week, probably doing who knows what with this guy. 

-

“You know what you gotta do,” teases the commentator. You laugh behind the back of your hand. Jake sits beside you just as flustered, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb.

In no way is he against kissing Y/n, but he also doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. 

“C’mon folks!”

You stare at Jake, shrugging a shoulder in question. Jake only smiles back before sitting up straighter. The both of you go to lean in. Your lips press softly against his until a loud smack of temper glass breaks it up. 

The two of you jolt away at the sound of a disgruntled voice. You look to see Ari, “hey!” His voice booms. “Back the fuck off my girl!” 

“What— who is he?” Jake’s eyebrows knit together as he points towards the enraged giant pointing a menacing finger towards him. 

“An asshole who doesn’t know what he wants.” You answer, shaking your head towards Ari before you place a kiss on Jake’s cheek. 

You watch as Ari stands behind the plexiglass. And even though you’re about eight rows back, you can see the confused and upset expression on his face. A pinch in his eyebrows and a pitiful glare in his eyes. 

“I’m really sorry about that, Jake.” 

“It’s nothing, don't worry.” He smiles, “Do you want popcorn or anything?”

“Sour patch kids, if that’s alright.”

“No problem.”

You look at anywhere but Ari during the rest of the brief intermission. 

-

Ari 🏒🦁

—Meet me outside the locker room

—Please?

You sigh as you grab your stuff. Just before the two of you reach outside the stadium, you gain Jake’s attention. 

“I’m really sorry to cut our hangout short, but I had a lot of fun. I just have to handle something really quickly.”

Jake tries not to show the disappointment on his face, “I’m gonna rightfully assume it has something to do with that ‘asshole who doesn’t know what he wants’?”

“Unfortunately,” you smile ruefully. 

“Okay,” he nods his head. “I hope everything goes well. I’ll see you around?” 

“Definitely,” you hug him before you make your way outside the doors of the locker rooms, with no trouble which you can guess is because of Ari. 

You smile awkwardly at the glances of Ari’s teammates. You hate that everyone has seen that happen and you assume most of his teammates know the intimate details of what’s gone down between you two. Which only adds another layer of unnecessary awkwardness. Time passes before you feel a light tap on your shoulder, looking up to see Steve at your side, a timid grin. 

“The locker is all cleared out, he’s in there waiting for you.” 

“Thanks, Steve.”

-

“Ari?” You walk in to him tying his sweatpants.

He turns around with a mournful look on his face. His sweatpants low enough that you can see the bands of his Calvin’s; he’s shirtless so his six pack is on display and glistening from his shower; his hair is disheveled, but the ends still curl at the ends; and he has a towel thrown over shoulder. 

You can ask any women how they could not be hung up on a guy as attractive as him. 

“Hey,” he sends a small smile, making his way towards you. 

“Wait—“ you interrupt, “We cannot have this conversation if you’re shirtless.”

He won’t argue, but he does as you’ve said and throws on some ratty t shirt in his locker. He sits on the bench in front of his locker, patting the spot next to you. 

You sit beside him, making sure to keep some distance between you two. 

“I see you’re not wearing your jersey?” 

The audacity of men will always surprise you.

“Your jersey and is that really the first thing you want to talk about?” 

“You’re right…” warily his hand grabs yours and when he sees you won’t retract from him, he brings it his plush lips. “I’m really sorry, Y/n. Seriously.”

“What you said Sunday was totally uncalled for and spiteful— and where do you get off announcing to practically the whole state that I'm your girl? And You embarrassed poor Jake for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothin’ and the douche will be fine.” He staggers at the fire in your eyes. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“That seems to be the only thing you can say,” you huff. You turn to him, needing to know the answer to this. “Are you really sleeping with other people?”

He notices how small your voice is as you ask. 

He sighs and looks down for a little, before tightening the grasp of your hand. “I was.” 

You stand up while trying to get Ari to let go of your hand. The last thing you want is for him to see the tears begging to fall. 

Ari stands with you in haste, bringing his other hand to palm your cheek as he looks down at you. Those piercing blue eyes saying so many things at once. “Was. I was. Listen, I haven’t slept with anyone else other than you since last month. It was a moment of weakness and you can’t be mad at me for it. We’ve never made anything official, baby.” 

“Do you even care about me? At all.” 

It feels vulnerable and desirous, but you’re unsure how you can continue without asking. 

“What? Did tonight not show you that?” 

You go to argue, but he cuts you off before you can start. 

Both his hands cup your face while his thumb draws circles on the apple of your cheekbones. 

“I love you.”

Your breath picks up at his admission. 

“It’s been months coming, but you gotta know since our first night together I haven’t slept with anyone other than Joy and that was only once. And I didn’t think I could tell you because.. I’m just not the guy you typically go for, Y/n. But I guess that was my own insecurities playing a part of that. I’m rambling and i probably sound like Steve after he takes one hit. But I promise I’ve admired you for so long and it has never been just sex to me. I don’t want my stupid mistake to get in the way of us trying correctly this time.” 

You swing your arm over the back of his neck and pull him in a kiss, your other hand fists his shirt. 

He lags at first before his brain catches up and he’s kissing you back harder. He tilts his head just a smidge like he always does and one of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head. You feel his other hand cup the side your body. His hand roams up and down before he’s slipping it behind you to squeeze your ass. You moan into him, pressing your body closer to him. 

Both your breaths pick up and you know you need a breather. So you pull away in a blur. 

“I love you too.”

He smiles at your admission. One of those adorable, rare smiles not many get to see from the broody man. 

You smack his arm and he grabs it with a questioning look. 

“But I’m still really pissed at you and I’m not letting you off easy.”

“Even if I ask you to be my girlfriend?” He snakes his brawny arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he ducks to kiss your cheek. 

“Even then,” you giggle, turning his head for a kiss. “And that’s a yes.” 

-

a/n: it's been so long, hi!!! sorry i disappeared

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback 💗

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[boxofbonesfic]

omg i would love a dark!Peter or a Ransom prompt 👀 it can just be an idea, or a specific scene or scenario, whatever strikes your fancy 💖

Ok! Ransom x plus size reader: college au, fwb. Ransom doesn't want to be seen with her cause she's fat and she's cool with it cause she's literally just here for the d while she gets her degree right? Ransom's an ass but that dick is bomb and no feelings are involved so perfect. But then Ransom gets addicted to the p and wants her all to himself, still on the dl tho. His changing feelings don't come out till she meets someone and breaks it off with Ransom. Reader doesn't think anything of it but Ransom COMPLETELY loses his mind and starts stalking her, blowing up her phone, etc. Not caring if everyone knows now. Reader is CONFUSED and MIFFED!

Title: Breaking

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 5,374

Summary: Ransom wasn’t eager to stake any sort of claim on you—until someone else does it first.

Warnings: College AU, Stalking, Kidnapping, Darkfic, Plus Size Reader, Manipulation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, MINORS DNI!

A/N: thank you so much for this lovely prompt! i really hope you enjoy this little ficlet. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

Ransom had found it kind of funny at first, when you’d stopped responding to his rather crassly worded “U up?” texts. It wasn’t until the third text in half as many weeks had gone completely unanswered that he’d tried calling instead—and found you had blocked him completely. 

What?

That wasn’t like you. Not like Ransom had taken time to really know you, but ghosting just didn’t seem like it belonged in your playbook.

“The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please contact your service provider if you believe you have reached this message in error.”

It had taken a little finesse, Ransom laying the charm rather thickly on your friend in his business management class, the one whose name he could never remember. 

“She has a boyfriend,” she’d said, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger with a nervous giggle. “But I’m, um, single.”

Which brings him to now.

You weren’t the sort of girl he usually took out on dates, and, looking back on it, you’d picked it up rather quickly. Your requests to meet at parties or the bars his frat brothers regularly visited were answered with vague no’s. Or, more often than not, ignored outright until you stopped sending them. It wasn’t your fault—he had a reputation to think about. Though tonight, ironically, his reputation is the furthest thing from his mind. 

What is on his mind, is you. 

Ransom’s lip curls as he watches Isaac drape an arm across your shoulders, squeeing affectionately. He doesn’t know him well—they haven’t spoken much beyond the idle chit-chat around the keg. It turns his stomach, the thought that he’d finally realized just how much you meant to him, only to have this—this boy-scout steal you from right under his nose. Out from his fucking bed. 

Ransom isn’t used to coming in second place. It’s never happened before, losing something he actually wants. Isaac seems happy to be next to you, not embarrassed or hiding behind baseball caps and wide sunglasses. Not like Ransom. He’s angry—at you, a little, but mostly at himself. It’s not hard to recall how you felt underneath him, all soft skin, soft curves, and fuck. He hates himself for not savoring that last time more, for not knowing it was going to be the last time. 

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Ransom Drysdale didn’t get dumped—he was the one who did the dumping. And, he, thinks with no small amount of derision as he watches you from across the bar, I didn’t get dumped. We were never together. You can’t break up if you’re not together. The thought rings hollow even in his own head as he nurses his fifth beer of the night. It feels stupid-no, superficial, now; the way he’d only drop by your dorm-room after midnight, showing up without calling or texting and knowing full well that you would let him in. 

But not anymore. 

You’re too far away for him to hear it, but when you laugh, you tilt your head back, attempting to cover your wide grin with one hand. Pretty, he thins to himself, taking another long swallow from the bottle. Fuck how had he not noticed how pretty you are when you laugh, before? Had he just never seen it? Now that it occurs to him, Ransom’s hard pressed to find a memory that isn’t just sweaty skin, and hungry words growled into the curls at the nape of your neck.  

Fuck.  

Those were his favorite nights, the ones he spent digging his fingers into the softness of your hips while he sank in to the hilt—Ransom shudders. Even through the condoms you insisted he wear, the memory of your slick, tight heat is enough to send a hot, jealous pulse through his veins. 

“We’re not together,” you’d said, crossing your arms stoutly as you stared up at him. “Condom or nothing.”

Probably doesn’t make Isaac wear a fucking condom. He takes another bitter swallow. He doesn’t know what’s worse, the thought of you fucking that Leave it To Beaver reject, or you fucking him raw. Both make him see red. 

“Right, Ransom?” Someone claps him on the shoulder, and Ransom nods wordlessly. He isn’t paying attention, not to them, not with you here. You lean over to say something to your friend, the same mousy one who’d volunteered herself in your place. Ransom scoffs into his beer. 

“Three fucking weeks.” He mumbles, draining the bottle before placing it down almost too hard on the bar-top. “How’s it get serious in three fucking weeks?” He waves at the bartender, signaling for another. 

“Ran, we’re heading out.” Theo jerks his head towards the door. “There’s a party at Jude’s place. Hella girls.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Drunk ones.” 

Ransom shrugs bad-naturedly, grimacing. “I’m going to stay here,” he says evasively, casting another sour look at you as his lip curls. “I don’t feel like pulling your head out of the toilet tonight.” 

“Whatever, man.” Theo rolls his eyes, squaring his shoulders. He follows Ransom’s eye across the bar, and smirks. “Just because you’re not getting your dick wet with your porky little sidepiece anymore doesn’t mean the rest of us have to stay here and mope with you all weekend.” 

Maybe it’s the alcohol warming his gut, but Ransom’s up before he’s really got a chance to think about it, his hands on Theo’s shoulders as he shoves him backwards, hard. The other man stumbles backward, and Ransom squares his shoulders. 

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“What, now you care, all of a sudden?” Theo scoffs. “Dude you wouldn’t even let her come in through the front door—” 

Ransom doesn’t know when exactly he grabbed a handful of Theo’s thin hair, holding his head still while he drives a frenzied fist into his former friend’s face as everyone watches. He comes to as he rears his fist back again, the sound of his name distant in his ears, like it was spoken through glass. 

“Ransom!” Your confused face in the crowd is all he can see—which is why Theo’s sucker punch catches him off guard. It makes his ears ring as stars explode in his right eye. The world tilts as Ransom stumbles, and the television static in his ears is replaced by yelling. The warm wet trickle from his nose is blood, staining the tips of his fingers red as he holds his face. Theo’s not doing much better, blood pouring from his nose, and an ugly, swollen bruise coming to bear on the right side of his face. 

“Fuck you,” Theo mumbles, drawing the back of his sleeve across his bloody lip. “Fucking asshole.” He storms out, a few of their frat brothers trailing behind him as he goes. 

“Are you fucking serious?” The bartender throws down the towel in his hands, before smacking them against the bar-top. “I’ve fucking told you guys about bringing that bullshit in here—”

“I was just leaving,” Ransom snaps, shoving his hands into his pockets. He hates that he can feel your eyes on him too; watchful, judging. Theo’s gone by the time Ransom makes his way outside. It’s almost winter break, and the icy night air feels good against the hot, painful throbbing in his cheek. 

“Ransom.” He turns, scowling at you over his shoulder. “What the fuck was that?” He shrugs miserably. 

“Nothing.” 

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“What do you fucking care?” The venom on his tongue flows easily, likely aided by the liquid courage currently sloshing around in his gut. “You blocked me. You have a boyfriend.” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting from this confrontation, but your distinct lack of a reaction feels like more of a slap in the face than anything else. You blink at him, one eyebrow quirked as if in question. 

“Yeah, I did.” Why does it hurt? Ransom’s rejected hundreds of girls—some as he was fucking pulling out of them, so why does this feel like a fucking knife in his back? “I figured you wouldn’t care much, Ransom, considering.” He hates this, hates how he’s the angry one and you’re calm—the roles should be reversed. They would be, if not for that niggling, irritating feeling that you should be his, just his. He doesn’t want to admit that you’re right, that you’ve got him pegged dead to fucking rights.

“How would you know?”

“You don’t sneak girls you like in through the basement entrance.” You retort smoothly. You’ve had a lifetime of this, of learning to live in your body, of learning to weather other people’s reactions to it—it’s Ransom that’s unfamiliar with rejection, unsure of how to handle the fact that the “r-train” isn’t enough to keep you coming back for more despite his treatment. 

“But I do. I do like you.” He says, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t do this. It doesn’t have to be a thing. We can just, we can go back to how it was before.” This time, you do react, your face screwing up as you regard him first with disbelief and then anger. 

“Why would I give up being in a relationship with someone who actually likes me, who is willing to be seen with me in public places and with his friends— you know what? I don’t need this.” You mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This is what I fucking get for trying to make sure you’re okay. Silly me. I thought we were mature, here.” You gesture between the two of you before another dry laugh bubbles out from between your lips. 

“Have a good night, Ransom.”

No, no, don’t leave! The desperate thought makes his throat tight. You can’t leave me. He stumbles exaggeratedly as you watch, falling against the bus stop with a groan. The plan lays itself out before him neatly like lines on a map. 

“God fucking dammit—Ransom!” You huff irritatedly. He leans against the pole, counting the seconds until you come over to check on him. You do, and he moans pitifully. “Can you walk?” 

“No,” he hiccoughs, swaying cartoonishly as you try to help him stand. “Ju-hic-just go. I’ll be fine.” You blow an exasperated breath out as you straighten him up. She doesn’t talk to her parents. He licks his lips as you pull out your phone, holding it up to your ear as you wait for someone to answer on the other end. She told me that when we were smoking, that one time. 

“I obviously can’t. How did you get here?” You say, holding your hand over the mouthpiece as you scowl up at him. 

“Theo d-drove.” The house is only a ten minute drive from here. Fifteen, tops.

“Yeah, I’m just going to head back to campus. No, I’m gonna take an uber. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow, Isaac.” The little smile that curls at the corners of your lips makes him sick. “Yeah, you too.” Ransom leans on you heavily, and you don’t seem to notice when he presses his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo with relish. Fucking Isaac.

“I’ll get the uber,” he says, slurring the words deliberately as he fumbles with his own phone. “M’sorry, Princess.” He taps the screen clumsily, selecting Home instead of Dorm, before hastily stowing it back in his pocket.

“Don’t call me that.” You snap sharply. You try—and fail—to stand Ransom on his own two feet. Instead he hangs over you, draped over your shoulders with his chin resting on the top of your head.

“Why?” The question comes out petulantly. “You used to like it.” 

“Stop.” 

The familiar feel of your body pressed against his is sweet in a way Ransom hadn’t anticipated. The attic’s secure. Quiet. 

When the car pulls up, Ransom allows you to wrangle him into the back seat, where he sprawls across your lap when you sit down beside him. You don’t say anything to the driver beyond a mumbled hello, which suits him just fine. Ransom plays up the drunk act, asking the driver a nonsensical question that makes you whisper at him to be quite. 

“Sorry. Just trying to get him home.” You reply, pushing uselessly at his head as he settles into your lap. Soft. He can’t help but run a reverent hand across your jean clad thigh. Love how soft she is.

You’re so distracted trying to keep him from getting comfortable that you don’t notice the cab is heading away from the dorm until the driver turns down the private road. 

“Wait—wait, I think you made a wrong turn somewhere,” you say, leaning forward to talk to the driver. He shakes his head enthusiastically, and points at his phone’s GPS. 

“No, I followed the directions,” he protests, and Ransom hides his snicker in a groan. “This is the address.” 

You lean back with a dissatisfied sigh, and look down at Ransom. 

“Let me see your phone.” He unlocks it and hands it over, his face a mask of innocence. You notice the mistake immediately, leaning forward again. “Could you turn around and take us back to Harvard campus, please—”

“This trip was already way out of my route,” the driver grouses, frowning at the two of you in the mirror. “And I don’t think he’ll make another trip. Looks like he’s about to puke any second.” 

“He’s fine.” 

Ransom retches, and watches as the cabby’s face twists angrily. 

“He’s not! I’m sorry, I’m done for the night. Maybe someone else will be able to pick you up.”

The finality in his voice makes Ransom giddy, and he clutches his stomach, gagging. He’s never thrown up—he’s not a fucking freshman lightweight, he’s a fucking Sigma for chrissakes—but he’s willing to let the two of you believe he might. You bite your lip, teeth sinking into its pillow softness as you try to undo what Ransom’s done. 

“M’sorry. Didn’ mean to put in the wrong hic place.”

You nod stiffly. “I know. I guess… Well, this place has plenty of couches, right?” There’s little humor in your joke, but Ransom makes sure to laugh a little anyway, nodding. 

“My grandfather won’t mind if you sleep in one of the guest rooms. Promise, Princess.” 

“Ransom, don’t—”

“We’re here.” The driver cuts in as the car pulls to a stop in front of the house. “Sounds like you guys have it all figured out.” 

—

As expected, the only people home are his grandfather, along with a few odd members of the staff. They’re easy enough to convince, Fran and Marta ferrying him upstairs to his room while he mumbles incoherently. You help too, tugging the blanket up over him after pulling off his shoes with a grunt. It feels nice, having you care for him like this, your soft hands on his face. 

It feels right. 

“I’ll get the guest room set up for you upstairs,” Fran says on her way out. “I’ve got a t-shirt around here somewhere.” Ransom doesn’t catch your answer, but that doesn’t matter much, not when he knows where you’ll be. It’s strange, how he’s impatient now, here at the home stretch, but he is. The smell of you, the taste, the feel, it’s all he can think about now that he’s so close.

It won’t be easy keeping you, he knows that, but nothing good comes without a challenge, right? And with the right motivation, Ransom knows he can make you fall in line. The house quiets around him, and distantly, he hears the sound of first Fran’s car, and then Marta’s. He forces himself to wait a few minutes more, and when he emerges out into the still air of the hallway, he smiles. 

The door to the guest room is ever so slightly ajar, and Ransom slides inside. You sit up sharply, and for a moment only sound between you is the quiet settling of the house. 

“What are you doing?”

“I came to check on you.” He can’t see your face in the dark, but he can see the shape of you, silhouetted in the pale beam of light streaming in from the tiny window above the bed. 

“I’m fine.” The words are stiff. “You should go to bed.” 

He doesn’t. Instead, Ransom turns and closes the door securely behind him, slipping the key into his pocket. The sound is deafening in the quiet, and he knows you hear it too. 

“Have you texted Isaac, yet?” He asks, cocking his head. The room is small, shaped oddly by the sloping roof, and Ransom himself takes up the bulk of it standing in front of the door. You seem to shrink a little in response, and your hesitation answers the question truthfully, before you’ve even spoken. 

“Y-yes. You should go to—” The way your hand strays under the pillow to feel for your phone tells him the opposite. Ransom licks his lips. 

“Have you fucked him yet, Princess?”

Your gasp is audible. 

“Don’t—don’t call me that. Ransom go to bed. You’re drunk.”

“Have you fucked him?” He repeats it, dropping to his knees on the bed.

“Get out!” You make for the door too late, and Ransom grabs you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist as he breathes a relieved sigh into your bare shoulder. Your frustrated struggle turns panicked at the sound of metal clacking against metal. “No, Ransom no—” The handcuffs he produces from his pocket aren’t the padded ones he’s used with you before—these are the real deal, and he clamps them tightly around your left wrist, looping it around the bed-frame before capturing your right. You’re writhing and fighting, but it’s easy to ignore the pain as he locks his arms tight, waiting for you to tire yourself out. 

You’re wearing just a t-shirt, and Ransom palms the heavy weight of your tits through the soft cotton with a soft groan.

“So you haven’t fucked him.” 

You open your mouth to scream, and Ransom laughs. 

“Nearest person is two floors down, Princess,” he breathes, a low,  satisfied hum rumbling in his chest as he draws his fingers through your messy hair, before tangling his fingers in it to tug your head back. His teeth scrape at your throat. “You can scream if you want to,” he mumbles against your pulse. “You know I like it when you’re loud.” 

“Ransom, stop. You’re—”

“Drunk?” He answers smartly, before shaking his head. He cups your face with one sure hand, stroking your lip with the pad of his thumb. “I know you feel bad, Princess. You let me fuck that juicy cunt so quick, you thought you needed to make him work for it.” This close he can see your face, can see the guilt you quickly try to bury because he’s right. The answer is there, written in the way you turn your head away from him, trying to hide your face in shadow. Ransom doesn’t let you, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers as he forces you to stay still, to look him in the eye. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit hoarsely, and Ransom laughs. “You’re fucking drunk and-and—get off me!” You shrill, bucking against him uselessly. If he’s drunk, that’s what he’s drunk on; the heady sensation of knowing the truth with absolute certainty. 

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” He sneers, pressing you down into the mattress. The smell of your skin is intoxicating, like orange blossoms and fucking sunshine. “Fuck, Princess, I missed this.” It’s almost reverent, the way he slides his hands down over your hips, slowly working a knee between your stubborn thighs. Your borrowed t-shirt rolls up as Ransom spreads your legs, grinning at the sight of white lace between them.

He draws a finger over the curve of your cunt before cupping it. 

“Why’d you block me, Sweetheart?” He asks, tracing the shape of your puffy lips through the cotton. 

“You didn’t want me!” You hiss through clenched teeth. Ransom clucks his tongue at you, shaking his head, before delivering a stinging slap to your cunt. You feel it through the cotton, of course, whining and writhing underneath him as you cry out. “You’re fucking crazy—” The palm of his hand cracks sharply against you again, and it cuts your complaint short as the words disappear in a pained gasp. 

“Be honest with me, Princess.” He says, grinning as you try to wriggle away from him.

“You wouldn’t even be seen with me!” Your voice cracks. “It’s not fair, Ransom!”

“You want me to stake a claim, Sweetheart? I can do that,” Ransom breathes, pushing the shirt up over your breasts, groaning at the sight of your puffy nipples. He draws his thumb across one, watching, enraptured, as the flesh pebbles underneath his touch. He trails sloppy, heated kisses up the side of your throat, nipping at the skin until you whimper. He mouths at your skin, sucking at the purpling bruise until he pulls away, satisfied. 

“We can think of a more permanent solution later.” He leans back with a satisfied sigh. It feels good to mark you, to watch the bruises spread like ink on your pretty skin. 

“Please, Ransom, just go!” You sob, the chain rattling against the bed-frame as you try unsuccessfully to loose yourself from your restraints. “We-we’ll just pretend it never happened!” You nod at him, like you’re trying to encourage him to do the same, your wide eyes fever bright. “It’ll be just like before—”

“Why would I want that?” He asks, reaching down to tug your panties tight, pulling the fabric tautly through the lips of your pussy like dental floss. “I don’t think you’re really grasping the situation, Princess, so let me spell it out for you.” Ransom spreads your legs wider as you stare up at him with fearful eyes. 

“I don’t want things how they were before.” He snarls. “Things are different now, Sweetheart. You made them different.” Ransom slips his fingers underneath the elastic of your panties, and begins tugging them own your thighs, ignoring your whimpered pleas to wait and stop. You kick at him, a frenzied wail working its way out of your throat. True to his word, he ignores it, sliding down your body until he’s faced with the slick patch between your thighs. 

“Ransom—” His name is a hoarse wail as he attaches his lips to your cunt, his tongue seeking out your traitorously swelling clit. He grins against you, dragging his tongue noisily through your folds, moaning. This is perfection, he muses dimly, lapping at you as you whine. You can’t deny how good it feels, not when he can see the evidence glistening on your quaking thighs, taste it on his tongue. You’re gasping, those precious little choking noises filling his ears as you try to swallow down the sound of your pleasure.  

“Can’t fucking get over how good you taste, Princess,” he mumbles, reveling in your yelp as he sucks harshly on your swollen bud, spreading you wide with his fingers. You shake, your body jackknifing as you murmur nonsensically. He’s always loved that flavor—like fresh peaches, why do you taste like fucking peaches—

“F-Fuck you!” He doesn’t let you cum, though, pulling away to flick softly at your clit with his thumb. He draws the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the evidence of your body’s betrayal with a sly smile. A hoarse little whimper escapes you, and Ransom clucks his tongue, before reaching down to palm himself through his sweats. His cock his hard, so hard it almost hurts, thick drops of precum gathering at the reddened tip. He reaches for his phone with the other hand, the shutter noise clicking as he snaps a few pictures of your tear-stained face. 

“N-no, no—!” You voice your displeasure with a whine as Ransom pans the camera down your body, like he’s trying to map it out for posterity’s sake. “No pictures, please, please!” Your wild, watery eyes are frantic as you plead with him. “Please don’t, Ran, please don’t send those—” A hot pulse shoots through his body at your desperation, and his cock throbs. 

“A minute ago you were just telling me to go fuck myself.” He quirks an eyebrow at you over the top of the phone. “So which is it?”

“Please don’t send those.” You swallow thickly, the sound audible. “Please.”

He has no intention of sending them anywhere—except maybe to Isaac with your face cropped out, of course. But he smiles lasciviously anyway, blue eyes narrowing. Ransom runs his tongue across his lips, still tasting you on them.

“Let’s make a little deal, then.” He tugs his sweats down, and the fat, veiny length of his cock springs out. Ransom hisses softly as he spreads a sticky drop of precum across his tip with his thumb. “You’re going to end it with Isaac.” You open your mouth to complain, but Ransom forges ahead, ignoring you. “We’ll be exclusive, you and me, Princess.” He forces your thighs open a little wider. “Just like you want.” Ransom’s practically giddy with the thrill of it as your full lips begin to tremble and fresh tears track down your cheeks.

“I—I don’t want you!” You gasp, your attempts to buck him off only succeeding in wedging him further between your frantically kicking legs. Ransom clucks his tongue at you. 

“I don’t know about that, Princess,” he says, slapping a hand against your swollen cunt, cupping it roughly. You squeal as he draws a finger through your slick, still throbbing folds. 

“Not sure if you’ve ever been wetter.” Ransom presses your thighs to your chest. He asks, licking his lips. “It’s all up to you, of course.” Ransom lies so easily it doesn’t even really occur to him that he’s doing it. 

“You tell me to go, I’ll go. But I can’t say what’ll happen to that footage.” He shrugs. He’s got no intention of leaving this room, not really, but he doesn’t mind pretending. “But if you were my girl, I might be able to swing deleting it. After all, what would I need it for? Got the real thing all to myself.” He dips the tip of a thick finger into your entrance. “Get it, Princess? No more scholarship. No more shitty dorm-room. I’ll take care of you.”

You’re so easy to read like this, your guard down and your desperation front and center. He can see you weighing the options, trying to parse out the best win for yourself in this devil’s bargain. He can see you testing the weight of your future against the events of this evening, and coming up far short. Ransom’s not stupid—and neither are you. You know what happens to girls like you when these things make their way into campus chatrooms and local reddit pages. 

“You’ll really delete them?” You ask meekly, your mouth trembling. “You won’t… you won’t show these to anyone?” Ransom grins wider, drawing an X across his heart with the tip of his index finger. 

“Cross my heart.” Ransom steadies one hand against your hip, his fingers sinking into the soft curve of it as he aligns himself with your entrance. His eyes roll as the head of his cock meets your cunt with a lewd, wet squelch. He’s getting impatient—after all, it’s been more than two weeks since the last time he’s been inside you, and his cock twitches hard against you at the thought. 

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry Princess, you’ll need to speak up.” Ransom leans down over you, his hard eyes locked on yours. “Again.” 

“I said fine!” Your quiet voice is strained. “Fine. I’ll—I’ll break up with Isaac—”  Ransom kisses you, swallowing the rest of your words eagerly. He gorges himself on your mouth, sucking your tongue fiercely before pulling away to worry at your lower lip with his teeth until it’s swollen and red. 

“Oh Princess.” He breathes. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.”  He watches with dark glee when your eyes go wide as he begins to press into you, the head of his cock forcing you open. “No condom this time, but that’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Ransom!”

“M’right here,” he breathes, his hips jerking as your slick, puffy cunt sucks at his tip. “Fuck.” Ransom watches your eyes roll as you sink your teeth into your lower lip.  “I know you missed it too, Sweetheart,” Ransom grits the words out through his teeth as he sinks in, his toes curling as your wet heat envelops him inch by precious inch. “You can admit it.” 

The warm euphoria that spreads down his spine as he bottoms out draws another curse from his lips. You feel like fucking slick velvet inside, your walls clamping down on the girth of his cock like a wet fist. It’s hypnotic, pulling out only to thrust home again, his ears barely registering the groan of the bed-frame beneath you. The space between his temples is buzzing—your compliance, the feel of you around him, the knowledge that he’d won—Ransom’s delirious with it. 

What’s even better is he can see it, plain on your face how much you’re enjoying it—how much you hate yourself for it. It makes every mumbled curse, every moan he wrenches from your unwilling throat all the sweeter. Ransom clucks his tongue at you as he leans down to capture your lips again. They’re pillow soft and swollen from his teeth. 

“It’s my fault.” Ransom drives his cock into you, groaning. “I was stupid, Princess, I know. But I know what I need, now,” he says, hooking an arm beneath your thigh, lifting it so he can sink in even deeper. “Just you.” The shameful little wail that escapes your throat as you clamp down around him is almost enough to make him cum with you, cursing and crying as you do. He hangs on by the last fraying thread of his self control. 

“Shit, shit, shit—”

“See?” He laughs, rolling his hips into yours with heavy strokes. “You need me, too.” 

God, he loves seeing you like this, loves being the one to break you apart—loves knowing he’ll be the only one. It’s that thought that does it, aided by the miserable way you mewl his name as you cum again. His hands are tight on your hips, sinking into the heavy curve of them as he growls your name roughly in your ear. For a moment he’s lost in it; his forehead resting against yours as you milk him. 

He stays inside you for a few luxurious minutes, basking in the feel of your cunt before pulling out. Ransom slaps his still hard cock against your oversensitive clit and you whine, your hips jerking. He can’t help but admire the mess he’s made, dragging his tip through your slick, sticky folds. 

You watch him with red-rimmed eyes, your brows furrowing as he rises from the bed, pulling his sweats back up over his hips. He doesn’t reach for the keys, but instead slides his hand underneath your pillow to remove your phone. 

“Ransom let me out, now.” Your voice is high, panicked. “You promised—”

“To delete the pictures.” He finishes, nodding. As you sputter, he removes his own phone from his pocket, and faces the screen towards you as he selects the pictures and videos from the photo album, and there’s a swooshing sound from the phone’s speakers as they disappear. “And I’ve deleted them.” Frantically, you rattle the handcuff chains against the bed-frame, trying desperately to dislodge them as Ransom sighs. 

“You’re just going to hurt yourself.” You keep trying anyway, ignoring him your terrified sobs grow louder. 

“Let me go! You fucking promised, Ransom, don’t leave me here—”

He cocks his head at you. 

“Why would I leave you?” He asks, slipping both your phones into his pocket as he stands, stretching. “Winter break’s just starting,” Ransom says with a smile. “And I can’t think of a better way to spend it.” 

the end

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#chris evans smut #chris evans fic #chris evans x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale smut #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom x y/n #dark!fic #dark AU #college AU

[espinosaurusrexex]

Revision

Professor!SteveRogers x Student!Female!Reader AU

summary: Professor Rogers was a lot of things, but for you, he was even more. A secret affair? A fun little side thing? You didn’t know yet. But you'd gladly seek out every possible moment with him until you did.

a/n: once upon a time I had a crush on my professor… this is what came out of it (don’t worry it didn’t really happen) but shame on me for keeping this in the drafts for so long

thank you @sebsgirl71479 for finding this gif and also very special thanks to @urcatslitterbox for taking the time and making one herself! you are the greatest!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: age gap (reader is of legal age of course), student/teacher relationship, a little fluff (because apparently I can’t do it without) this is obviously smut (dry humping, praise kink, unprotected p in v - wrap it before you tap it guys, slight overstimulation, voyeurism - if you squint), I don't know what else to tell you !MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

“Do you know why I asked you to stay, Ms. Y/L/N?” His arms crossed before his chest as his gaze followed the last students roaming amongst the rows of the vast lecture hall, a blonde strand of hair falling loose and settling in a soft curve over his eye. Professor Rogers looked intimidating, but so damn sexy as well. His biceps bulged beneath the checkered white and blue button-up, his sleeves halfway rolled up, restrained by his evenly muscular forearms.

“To be perfectly honest, Professor,” Your voice stayed even, a slight mockery undertone by the use of formality when you had called him far more personal things than that before. Steve, Stevie, Daddy... you shook out of it - there were still people here. “I don’t. I was quite confident that my assignment was to your... satisfaction.” A smug grin hid behind the last word, as you remembered the actual satisfaction that assignment had brought you as well.

Steve had to hide his smile, too. His eyes darted with amusement when he tilted his head forward to peer up at you through his thick lashes. Your eyes wandered to his legs. His tan chinos were tight on his muscular thighs and the way he leaned back with his knees spread even wider - holy mother of god.

He knew damn well how hot he was, and the annoying thing was that he also knew how to make it work for him. Steve reveled in the power his body language had over you.

He watched as your tights clenched together behind his desk. The simple movement of his fingers on a desk could make you keen thinking about the places they had done that before. His confidence seeped though every fucking vein in his body, dripping in thick undertones and slight remarks out of his mouth and invading your senses through his touch and smell.

He was to die for. Tall, muscular, charming, and older.

You looked him up and down again and as his head tilted to the side you knew exactly that he could read your every thought. His arms opened when the door closed behind the last student, one hand gliding to his inner thigh while the other motioned for you to step closer.

You did.

It was like an automatic response of your body. Though you leaned forwards on the wooden desk, your arms pushing inward to help the cleavage peeking through the collar of your top, Steve’s eyes pulled down in an instant as well. 

“It certainly was.” He rubbed his beard. “I just thought it would be beneficial to go over it once more, highlight the good parts and make sure you know what made them so... enticing.” He leaned forward now, his fingers brushing yours on the sleek surface of the polished wood, though his eyes remained on your breasts. Steve wet his lips before his eyes flicked up to yours again. “I’m willing to thoroughly talk you through the rougher bits as well.”

“Are you implying they weren’t all good?”

“Oh, they were good, just not as good as other parts.” 

It was a game. You knew that, and Steve knew that too. But the little role-playing brought an excitement to this ordeal that couldn’t be denied by either of you. He was like a magnet and your entire body felt like it was made of metal with the pull he had on you. You stood on your toes, pushing yourself further over the table, where Steve stayed entirely still. He was observing you, though. The slight intrigue in the twig of his brow when your lips came dangerously close to his. A fast glint to the double doors leading to the hallways full of students rushing to their next classes. There was no nervousness in his stare though. Steve actually liked the potential threat of getting caught. It spurred him on, enticed him, and turned him on beyond belief. You had learned that just the other week when he had dragged you behind the open door to the janitor's closet of the history building. He had absolutely no shame in getting his hands dirty while all the students walked past the dark room where Steve had his hand firmly pressed above your mouth as his other relentlessly plunged in and out of your wet cunt. 

“Huh.” You pushed back. And even though the muscular blonde on the other side of the desk tried not to react, you caught his shoulder slouch in disappointment. You liked playing tough, though. While his perfume worked hard to pull you back into him, your feet shuffled a little further back, looking him up and down again. His legs were still manspreading on the chair and damn did those thighs look inviting. You knew they were. 

The clock above the double door clicked louder now that the students outside had passed on to their next classes. You had one, too actually. But the professor was boring as hell and who wouldn’t trade a creepy scarf-wearing weirdo for this specimen of a man in front of you right now? Exactly: no one. But they didn’t have that chance. Steve had chosen you, reserved his glances and touches, and kissed for you and it was exciting. Getting to share his experiences, letting the older man take control of your body in such rough yet gentle ways. 

Your legs strode around the desk as Steve’s eyes followed you through the room. His arms had reached out to you once you were close enough for him to grab and once his index finger looped in the belt loops of your jeans, he pulled you onto his lap. As your hands wandered to his shoulders, his snook around your waist, his thumb gently stroking the skin beneath your top. A shiver ran through you when he leaned back, his icy blue orbs piercing the air as they focused on yours, a small smile twinkling in the corner of his mouth. 

“You look good.” You whispered, a hand smoothing over the collar. Steve’s lips escaped a laugh, and even though the sexual tension you build up with the sneaky conversation still lingered in the air, there was a softer, sweeter sound invading the atmosphere right this moment. 

“I know you like the blue.” He mumbled when he dipped forward, his nose brushed your neck and a trial of goosebumps traveled down your back. The rasp in his voice stirred something in your stomach, a slight tingle shooting up to your brain and telling you ‘hey that’s hot!’ In bright and blaring neon lights. 

Steve’s fingers ran down your legs and began massaging your thighs on each side of him. Another strand of hair came loose and fell forward. It tickled your neck as his mouth began to suck its way up to your sweet spot, your hands frantically cramming his shirt at the sudden attack. His tongue shot forward, soothing the place his teeth just nibbled on and the familiar burn ran over your skin as hisses and moans mixed in your mouth. Your hips jolted forward when he finally reached that spot behind your ear, hot breath blowing over the wet skin and a soft kiss right after. 

“You smell...” A growl broke through his speech when your hips ground a second time. “So sweet...” 

A jolt of confidence placed a grin on your lips. The perfume you wore had turned some heads before, but the only one that mattered was Steve’s. His mouth resumed his caress of your skin as his hand wandered to your ass, slowly pushing you forward and guiding you over the growing bulge beneath his pants. 

“Ah, yes!” It was only a breath out when the seam of your jeans was pushed into your clit by the hardness in his lap, but - God did that feel good! Your back arched when he continuously ripped you over the spot, your hands buried in his hair, pressing him deeper into your skin, encouraging him to keep going. 

“Goddamn...” His head switched to the other side of your neck, the skin on the neglected one already hot and tingly. But your sole focus lay between your legs, where his cock massaged your clit in perfectly firm rocking motions. The roughness of the jeans just added to the pleasure creeping through your body.

You could’ve gone like this forever, with the heat rising in your belly and Steve’s muffled panting lingering in the air, but Steve pulled away. A whine brushed over to him when his lips left your skin. You were burning from his touch but at the same time, a cool brush of goosebumps covered your body. It was crazy how much you craved his touch even when he was sitting right in front of you. His stare alone lit a fire within your stomach, butterflies flying wild patterns through every nerve ending when his light blue eyes found yours in the distance of the lecture hall. It had happened suddenly and spiraled beyond your control within days. And then, when he had finally kissed you, it was pretty clear that there was no going back. Steve was like a drug. Something you shouldn’t play with and something that was definitely illegal to pursue, but so so so freaking good because he made you feel things you could have never imagined. 

His voice pulled you back to reality.

“As much as I like your ass in those jeans...” Steve tugged on your Jeans with dark eyes, the silver button glimmered in the lecture hall light when his rough fingers yanked on the material. “They need to go.” That last part was just a growl in your ear but the tire of it made you eagerly wiggle out of the blue denim.

You stepped out of your jeans once he had finally opened them and when his eyes fell on the underwear covering your heat, he pulled you closer by your hips. His thumbs drove circles over your skin, sending yet another tingle of excitement up your spine. His hands wandered back to your behind, squeezing and needing the flesh all while pressing you into his front. 

Your lips attached to his neck like a magnet, your hand scraping the gruff on his chin with excited circles. A growl traveled past his lips when you reached his sweet spot - the one right beneath his ear, making him melt every time. A deviant smile spread about your face but before you could revel in the control you had over him - even if it was just for a short moment - he had you turned around, facing the rows of desks stretching to the walls.

“You’ve been doing this on purpose, haven’t you?” His hand wandered past your breasts down your front and stopped right by the edges of your panties, the other holding you by the hip, pressing his hard-on right to your back. The excitement shooting through you did nothing to hide, slick pooling between your legs, and your nipples already hard pebbles on your skin. “Putting on these scandalous little lace things thinking about how I’ll be seeing them today...” Warm breath tingled at your ear when he leaned closer, pushing his hand past the hem of the lace. “...taking them off of your perfect body.”

You moaned when his fingers slit past your folds, gathering some slick to smoothly roam about your clit.

“Maybe...” The shivers erupting from his touch interrupted your speech until you could collect yourself. “I’m always thinking of you, Stevie.” He bit your neck before his tongue smoothed over the spot again. It was a perfect interplay of pleasure and pain, the wet warm strokes of his tongue soothing the stinging and adding fuel to a desire only he could evoke in you.

“Say it again,” he growled, adding more pressure to the swollen bundle of nerves between your legs. You squirmed as the muscles in your abdomen tightened, clenching around nothing and reminding you what you had been missing. “What else are you thinking about?”

“Your hands all over my body...” Your hand guided his over to your breasts encouraging him to squeeze the soft flesh and breathing heavily when his thumb brushed over your hardened nipple. “Pushing me to bend over that desk while you fill me up with your big cock.”

“Nothing I’d rather do, doll.” Before you knew it your face was gently pressed against the cold and polished wood. Warm hands wandered to your ass where they pulled down your underwear painfully slow, having you fiddle in place impatiently.

“Now, don’t be so hasty, love. I gotta take my time.” You heard his belt unbuckle.

“Unfortunately, Professor, time is the one thing we do not have a lot of...” His hands stopped moving as you called him ‘Professor’, though you knew it wasn’t a bad thing. If anything, it probably turned him on more, which would hopefully speed up the process of him finally filling you up to the brim. Your pussy clenched at the thought of it again - a frustrating reminder of the emptiness you so wished to disappear. 

“Too bad, I would have loved to play with you a little more.”

“Tick Tock...”

“As you wish, princess-” And before the words had even reached your ears, you felt his swollen tip nudge at your entrance, stroking up and down your slit to cover in your arousal as a sinful sound escaped Steve’s lips.

His hands found their way back to your waist before he finally pushed fully into you, leaving you no time to adjust to his size as he started pounding into you with an unrelenting pace. The burn wasn’t painful though. You knew he was big, and even though you had not believed that he would ever fit inside of you, Steve had managed to not only do that but also ruin you for every other man to ever come. 

“Look at your greedy little cunt begging for my cock, practically sucking me in, doll.”

You couldn’t answer, too focused on holding onto the desk and controlling your body not to melt with his strokes as he pushed into you over and over again.

“Gripping me so tight... perfect little pussy.” A slap landed on your ass cheek to which you responded with another loud moan. If there had been a care for anyone to hear you doing the indescribable in this lecture hall before, Steve had certainly fucked it out of you by now. You turned your head watching as he spit down on his cock before it disappeared in you again, his head falling back with shut eyes while he reveled in every piece of pleasure you gave him.

“Fuck!” He locked eyes with you, a determined smirk painting his face when his hand wandered around your body again, finding your clit and rubbing tight little circles over the nub.

Your vision blurred as the hot pleasure crept up your spine. There was something about Steve’s touch that made you feel as though every nerve in your body fired twice and fast. You clenched around him again, watching with pleasure as his brows furrowed.

He picked up his pace, kicking your legs further apart and hitting an even deeper angle now.

“Oh my god!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head before you closed them, trying to last longer than this. The feeling was just too good to let go of so soon. But with Steve’s hunky body towering over you and his cock stroking just the right spot with every moan he pulled from you, that seemed like an impossible task. You tried your best, though, but right when you thought that you would last a little longer, his fingers changed the direction of the circles on your clit and turned your brain to mush.

“I’m gonna- ah”

“The hell you are.” He pulled away, leaving you to whimper with the empty feeling you had never wanted back. But Steve pulled you up and turned you around in one swift motion, walking forward until you were pressed against the desk again. This time, though, he made you lay on your back with a hazy smile.

“I wanna see your pretty face when you come all over my cock.” He placed your legs on his shoulders and grabbed his dick to line it up with your entrance again. Then, he made sure to keep eye contact while he pushed himself into you once again, but this time, painfully slow.

You gripped him tight when he bottomed out, stroking the flesh on your thigh while he pulled back just to pound back in again.

“I fucking love this pussy,” he growled as his pace picked up much to your delight, “it’s mine. Tell me, baby.”

“Yes. Yes, it’s all yours, Stevie.” You couldn’t even focus on the words leaving your mouth at this point. You would say yes to anything he said just to make the feeling of his cock stroking your walls last forever.

“That’s a what?” He halted, raised eyebrows watching you expectantly.

“Yes, sir,” you smirked.

“Good girl.” The pressure built up again and when his hand found its way back to your clit, you felt like exploding. His pace didn’t falter, determination taking over while he watched himself slip in and out of you with hungry eyes. 

You would be busting in seconds if he kept it up like this, your walls clenching tighter and tighter, your stomach feeling rock solid from the pleasure building up with every circle of his thumb and every stroke of his cock.

“Don’t hold back now, sweetheart. Let go. Give it to me.”

That was all it took for the knot to finally come loose. “Ah!” Your back arched off the table while your hands frantically searched for something to grip, the walls of your pussy fluttering and making your core be on fire with pleasure. It just intensified when Steve slowed his strokes to let you ride on the wave of bliss that made your body tingle.

When you relaxed again, you felt your walls pulsing with lazy delight. A weak smile shining through your hooded eyes when you watched him intensify his strokes again. Shaky whimpers left your throat when his cock brushed over your sensitive parts. He was close, too. You could feel him twitching inside of you, waiting for the perfect moment to let go. And you would give him just that.

“You make me feel so good, sir. Your big cock stretches me out, fills me up. I want you to come inside of me.”

“Fuck, keep going.” He closed his eyes, speeding up his movements and making the pressure build right up for you again.

“You’re so big. I can feel you in my stomach, baby. Make me come by just thinking about you. So sexy and strong and- ah oh!”

Steve’s movements staggered his cock twitching as his face contorted into pleasure while you felt his cum spill inside of you. The scene was erotic, and the sounds coming from the man above of you made you reach another orgasm, milking the last drop from him with every pulse of your walls.

Your chest heaved as you leaned your head back, watching the clock above the door. It was too sad this moment was ending.

Though Steve took his time. He watched his juices drip after he pulled out, whispering a low ‘perfect’ into the room that made your head feel hot. 

How was this man making you flustered after shamelessly rearranging your guts in a public lecture hall?

“Put your jeans back on, doll. I don’t wanna get in trouble today.” He winked at you while he zipped up his pants and secured the buckle on top. You stood, fixing his slightly tossed hair and leaving your hand hovering over his jaw.

“Where’d you put my panties?” He kissed you.

“I think I’m gonna keep these,” Steve smiled while stuffing them into his back pocket.

“For revision, I presume?” You smiled with wicked eyes.

“Exactly.”

Here it is - finally! Please tell me what you think (hopefully it was worth the wait)! I've missed you guys so much; life is keeping me busy and excited for more. How have you been?? 💛

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#megs imagines #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #professor!steve #college steve rogers au #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers #captain america imagine #steve rogers smut #steve rogers au #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x you #captain america smut #bucky barnes x reader

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

college!ari + elevator

Want you to want me

Pairing: college!Ari Levinson x female!reader

Summary: Ari really likes you but doesn't know how to ask you out.

Warnings: super fluffy, Ari is a shy beefy boy and should be protected always! This blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Authors note: feels like I haven't written in soooo long! I've had this in the pipeline for a while but just needed the muse to cooperate ✨ this sits in the same universe as our lovely college!Andy and will most likely have more parts 🩷 (word count: 1.2k)

"Just ask her out."

Ari turns his gaze at the sound of his friends voice, already missing having you in his line of sight.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ari grumbles, fiddling with the pages of the book he's been pretending to study from for the past hour. If only he could pull his gaze away from you.

Andy let's out a chuckle, "she's cool, she's nice and she likes you, just go over there and ask her out."

Ari sighs as he looks over to you again. You're talking animatedly to someone from your class and Ari can't help the soft smile that graces his face as he watches you.

It's not like he hasn't spoken to you before, you both had a similar group of friends and you shared a couple of classes. It was the fact that every time he spoke to you he'd get all flustered and tongue-tied and you'd give him a smile that both calmed and tortured him.

"It's not that simple, man," Ari huffs, pulling his eyes away from you again.

"Sure it is, just go over there and ask her out."

Ari stares at him, "I can't just go over there and ask her out."

"Sure you can!"

Ari sighs, dropping his head as he thinks it over. He wants to ask you out, god he really wants to. But what if you say no? It's not like you'd laugh in his face or anything, you're not like that. But you're friends and what if that's all you see him as?

"Is that how you got your girl? You just asked her out and it all worked out fine?"

Andy smiles as he looks at his friend, his dumb, clueless friend.

"Well I tutored her for a while and then we fucked in that room over there," Andy grins, gesturing to one of the study rooms.

Ari stares at him wide eyed, "so you didn't even take her on a date?!"

"Christ you're old fashioned," Andy laughs, "I took her on a date after. When two people want each other you don't have to stick to a timeline, dude."

Ari can feel his cheeks warm up, he wasn't a prude or anything but he was raised by a single mother who instilled chivalry in him. And he liked you too much to risk doing anything stupid. He wanted, no needed, you to like him - in whatever capacity you were willing to give.

"I just want her to like me," he mumbles quietly, almost hoping Andy doesn't hear.

"Pretty sure she already does, man. And right now she's coming over here and I would put money on it being to talk to you and not me."

Ari's head whips up and he catches your eye as you reach their table. You flash him a sweet smile and Ari swears he loses the ability to think.

"Hey beefcake," you grin as you come to stand in front of him.

Beefcake.

That name, and the way you say it, has lived rent free in his head ever since the first time you called him it.

You'd been drunk at one of Andy's parties and to say you had two left feet would be an understatement. Ari had arrived late after working a double shift at the garage and honestly all he wanted to do was go to bed, but as soon as he saw you dancing and stumbling he knew he could stay for just one.

You caught his eye from across the room and he swears the smile you sent him could light up a whole town. He didn't know why you were so happy to see him but in your excitement and inebriated state you tripped over the leg of a table. You would have fallen flat on your face if it wasn't for Ari's quick reactions and strong arms.

He caught you with ease. His arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you up like you weighed nothing.

The giggle you let out has played on repeat in Ari's mind ever since. Your small hands resting over his biceps, giving them a squeeze and giggling even more.

"So strong," you giggled, "so beefy."

"How much have you had to drink?" Ari mused, unable to hold back the smile as he looked down at you.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest as you peered up at him pouring, "only a little. Thank you for catching me, beefcake."

Ari's brows lift as you descend into another fit of giggles. With your chin against his chest he just prays that you can't hear his heart thudding.

"Beefcake, really?"

"I think it suits you," you beamed.

And well, who was Ari to disagree.

Andy's voice snaps Ari back to the present.

"So, are you coming to the Halloween party on Friday?"

Ari feels his cheeks heating up, wondering how long he was staring at you before his friend jumped in. Looking anywhere but you, Ari just wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

"I don't know yet," you say, Ari's eyes flicking to you at the sound of your voice, surprised to see you're already looking at him, "are you going, beefcake?"

Ari stutters as he tries to form a coherent thought, "me? I, um, yeah I think so, maybe?"

Ari can see Andy smirking out the corner of his eye and wishes he could whack him in the face with his text book.

"Well I hope you decide to," you smile, biting your lip slightly and Ari feels his chest constrict, "who's going to catch me when I fall otherwise?"

Ari laughs and he swears your eyes get brighter, "well in that case I might make an appearance."

"Look forward to it," you wink, "well it was lovely seeing you boys. I'll see you in class Ari."

You send them a final smile before turning and heading to the elevator.

Ari's eyes remain on you until Andy throws a pen at his head.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"Ari, seriously go fucking ask her to the party! She clearly wants you to go."

"What? No, she was just being nice, making conversation," Ari tries to brush off, his eyes connecting with yours before you quickly turn away and step into the elevator.

"I swear to god, go ask her now or I will set her up with Steve!"

Ari shoots daggers at Andy before he's up and out of his chair and rushing towards the elevator. His brain doesn't catch up with his body until he's squeezed himself through the closing doors and is stood face to face with you.

"You okay there, beefcake?" You chuckle, taking in his rosy cheeks and the way his huge chest heaves under his shirt.

"Um, about Friday, err Halloween, I um, was wondering..." He trails off, scratching the back of his neck and looking anywhere but your eyes.

"I'd love to go with you," you smile softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Ari's face splits into the widest grin as he breathes out, "really?"

You let out a soft laugh as the elevator doors open on your floor, "really."

Leaning up onto your tip toes you place a chaste kiss to his cheek before turning on your heel and walking away.

"Make sure you wear something pretty, beefcake," you sing over your shoulder. Sneaking a quick glance back at your favourite shy, beefy boy before the doors close. You see him smiling and touching his cheek and you know you're already in too deep.

Aw I'm so happy to finally share this! My college boy universe is expanding and we have Ari in the club! As always comments and reblogs are super appreciated 🩷 also please send me thots for more college!Ari ✨

#ari levinson #college!ari #college!ari levinson #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fic #ari levinson fluff #chris evans fic

[ramp-it-up]

Sugar Sugar

Summary: You chose Bucky. But now he’s going 5000 miles away. And you were not consulted. Steve is right there and it’s his birthday. The competition isn’t over.

Word Count: 2.5K

Pairings: College grad Steve x Grad School Reader; College grad Bucky x Grad School Reader (Not Stucky); Various Marvel MCU Characters (in same age except for Stark) x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. Roommate au, S MUT! Lovers quarrel before action starts, angst, flirting, Tony being Tony, lowkey voyeurism, a lil bit of fluff. drinking, flirting, crushes, an unsanctioned birthday picnic, ‘borrowed’ champagne, birthday “kisses” 😏, oral s ex (f receiving), cheating (maybe. possibly)

A/N: This is a sequel to last year’s Sugar. I know! 😫 I hope you like it.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You were sipping your blueberry tequila smash and staring moodily across the water. It was supposed to be a festive day and an even better night, but that insanely handsome and inconsiderate roommate/boyfriend of yours ruined it all.

Or rather, you ruined it, thinking that you would be any different than any of the other girls he’d smashed and passed on. So what it had lasted a year? Bucky was leaving you now, so cheers to wasted time.

You downed the rest of your drink in one gulp as you thought to get another when someone cleared their throat beside you.

You glanced over to see your boss standing beside you, resplendent in a white suit and sunglasses. You straightened up and ran your free hand over your white mini sundress with blue polka dots and greeted him.

“Oh! Hello, Mr. Stark. This party is so nice. Great way to celebrate the Fourth!”

You plastered on a fake smile and aimed it at him. He smiled back at you.

“Cut the shit, Sugar. I know you’re not that happy. I saw you and Barnes had words and he stalked out. I warned you about fraternization.”

Your stomach dropped and you just knew that you would be fired and kicked out of Stark house, losing your graduate fellowship. Shit. Stark knew everything, even the nickname that your roommates, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers had given you.

“Oh that? That was nothing, just a roommate disagreement.”

Stark leaned in. He smelled good. Real good. He smelled….rich.

“Listen. That rule is not because I mind co-workers getting it on…” 

He paused and winked at you, and instead of being creepy, it was funny, so you laughed. 

“It’s because most people, especially young people like you, can’t do it without all the feels.”

He nodded and you turned to see Wanda and Vis sneaking off around the house, hand in hand.

“That’s going to lead to heartbreak,” he said, indicating the sneaky couple.

Then looked you in the eyes. 

“And you’re going to be all twisted up into knots between those two grunts if you’re not careful.”

You looked at him quizzically.

“Two grunts?”

Stark sighed and raised his hand.

“You need to lay off the red, white, and blue drinks, Sugar.”

He looked you up and down and you don’t know if it was the drinks, but you weren’t mad at him. He was kind of charming.

“Barnes and Rogers. Part of the reason I keep you around, besides the fact that your IQ is within 20 points of mine, is the increased productivity around them when you are together. Competition is a wonderful thing for business.”

When the server appeared, he grabbed an elegant looking red drink.

“But lately productivity is falling. Hence Barnes’ new offer. It had to be done, Sugar. Now we all can concentrate on the work ahead.”

You frowned at what he was saying, not giving voice to your feelings on that subject. Stark sighed again and shook his head as he handed the drink to you, despite what he said earlier.

“Kir Royale.”

You accepted it and took a sip. Then you looked up at Stark.  You were beginning to think that he might have been pretty cute when he was younger.

“I was Sugar, and I’m a handsome devil now.”

You gasped and put your hand over your mouth as he winked and walked away, not knowing you’d said that out loud. You watched him walk away as he commented over his shoulder. 

“Nice dress, Sugar. It’s making several people all hard, soft, and wet.”

You gasped again, looking down. The dress covered everything, and you didn’t know what he was talking about. You turned toward the river and the afternoon sun again, finally realizing.

The sun was shining through your dress and everyone behind you could see everything you had to offer. And you hadn’t worn any underwear because you came with Bucky.

You quickly made your way down the lawn to the edge of the hedge maze to put the greenery at your back and to watch the water in privacy. Irritation was on the edge of your brain, but the drinks were making everything mellow. 

So what, your boyfriend had accepted a position in Romania for a year?

So what, you couldn’t go with because you’d won a coveted Stark fellowship that extended your housing and salary into while you studied in graduate school at NYU?

So what, Bucky didn’t consult you before committing himself?

So what, you were an idiot who thought you could have happily ever after?

You jumped at a noise behind you. You wheeled around and were stopped in your tracks.

“Hey Sugar.”

Steve was there, with a strange look on his face, but his bright blue shirt was making those eyes pop.

“Oh. Hullo Steve.” 

You pouted at him and he almost fell to his knees. 

Things had been different with you and Steve since you and Bucky had gotten together last year. You were still friends, but he kept you at arms length. You didn’t think much about it, because you’d been wrapped up in your relationship, but as you looked at him now, the guilt hit you full force.

“Oh shit, Cap! It’s your birthday!”

His Lacrosse moniker flew from your lips as you threw yourself into his arms for a hug. Steve was caught off guard and stumbled backward, but managed to break your fall with his body. His hard body. 

“Thank you. You remembered.”

You were both laughing as you untangled from each other on the ground.

“Of course I did! I’m your bestie, right?” 

You gave him your bightest smile.

“Bestie. Right.” 

Steve thought of the innocent kiss you’d shared last year. He thought of it every day, in fact. But you were Bucky’s girl. He looked at you and grinned. You made him so happy. You and Bucky were his only family, so he was glad to be with you today, if only for a moment. 

“I see you were trying to be alone. I’ll leave you be.”

The sight of you made him weak, so he made to leave before he said something stupid. Then, he felt your hand grab his.

“Just where do you think you’re going, Mister?”

“Ummm…?”

“Um, nothing! We’re going to celebrate your birthday in style, Bestie.” 

Your eyes sparkled at him.

“Are you ready for your reconnaissance mission?”

—--

20 minutes later, you and Steve met in the same place, behind the hedges. He’d completed his mission with table cloth and a box full of some hor’s d'oeuvres from the party. Steve had charmed one of the servers in the kitchen.

He took you in, a mischievous look on your face and your arms behind your back. Your nipples were pointed right at him through your dress and his mouth went dry.

“What do you have there?”

Steve’s deep baritone and his raised eyebrow did something to you, but you shook it off as you brought your hands in front of you. Steve barked at your audacity.

You’d swiped a bottle of Stark’s Bollinger Vieilles Vignes Françaises from the bar and the entire top to the strawberry and blueberry five tier sponge cake that was on the buffet.

“Only the best for my bestie!”

Steve shook his head at you as you set up the picnic.

You and Steve talked like you hadn’t in over a year. You ate and drank and just relaxed, bringing your old vibe back. Everything was perfect, even the beginning sunset across the water.

Until Steve complimented your dress.

“This is nice.” 

He took it in his hand to feel the fabric, bushing his fingertips along your thigh. You shivered and looked down at his hand, leaving Steve to marvel at your eyelashes across your cheeks. Then, you looked back up at him and reached up to feel his beard.

“So is this. Been meaning to tell you.”

Steve’s new-ish whiskers were somehow stiff, but soft, and you let your fingertips linger against his face, eyes drawn to his lips, made even more red by the strawberries off the cake. You licked yours unconsciously, thinking of that 7 minutes in heaven last summer.

“So… what do you want for your birthday?”

You reluctantly withdrew your hand from his face and sat back on your knees, hands on your thighs. For some reason, that made Steve hot and bothered. He considered you.

“Today has been great. The food, the drink, the cake.”

He grinned.

“”Great’, but not ‘Perfect.’” 

You cocked your head at him and Steve wanted his hands on you. 

“What would make it perfect?”

Steve grabbed the bottle of champagne and took a swig because you hadn’t gotten any glasses.

“It’ll never happen.”

Your interest was piqued.

“Never say never, Cap.”

Was Steve drunk, or was your voice more sultry? He shook his head, partially to clear it, and partially in denial.

“I think I can say never with confidence on this one.”

You got up on your knees and grabbed his arm.

“C’mon, please, please, please! It’s your birthday. I’ll do anything to make it happen, pleaaaseeeee!”

You bouncing up and down begging on your knees made Steve’s reserve snap.

“I want to kiss you.”

You stopped moving and your mouth hinged open. Then you licked your lips. 

“Ummmmmm….”

“That’s what I thought.”

Steve took another swig.

“Can’t do that. You’re Buck’s girl…”

Your reticence evaporated at the mention of James Barnes.

“Fuck Bucky.” 

And you threw yourself at Steve, causing him to drop the bottle, then blindly feel for it, making sure it was upright before pulling you into his lap.

The kiss was less innocent than the first, all lips, tongues and teeth, even biting as Steve sought to possess you. You found yourself grinding on Steve’s bulge as year old memories of what his casually swinging roommate cock looked like flashed through your mind.

Then you stopped, moved off Steve’s lap and lay back on the table cloth, eyes closed and hand on your heaving chest.

“That was great.”

You chuckled and smiled, eyes still closed. You missed Steve’s eyes roaming over your prone body.

“Great, but not perfect?”

“I wasn’t talking about kissing you on those lips….”

Your eyes flew open the now dark sky and you turned your head to see Steve lying next to you, a pained look on his face.

“Steve…”

“I know… but… damn Sugar… I’m down bad for you. Always have been.”

You looked into those baby blues and you knew it was true. 

“I….”

Instead of saying what you wanted to say, you shifted and pulled your dress up slowly, causing Steve’s eyes to follow every move, and an unconscious groan to escape from his lips. When you revealed your naked core to him, he got up on his knees.

“We’ve got to make your birthday perfect, now don’t we?”

Steve gulped.

“Oh, Sugar…Sugar…”

He looked up at you, eyes dilated.

“You sure…?”

“Kiss me, Stevie…”

You let your leg fall open, and Steve’s hands were on you, pulling you toward him as he leaned down toward your naked bottom. He put his hand under your thigh and propped it up and over his shoulder.

His hot breath against your pussy lips made you shudder. He looked up at you.

“I knew you’d be pretty everywhere.”

You smiled and put your hand in his hair, scratching his scalp. 

“You’re so nice, Steve.”

He raised his eyebrow.

“Nice? I’ll show you nice.”

And he leaned down and liked your pussy, tongue sweeping into your sweet tang and setting his world on fire.

“Fucking delicious…”

“Languagggeeeeee… Stevie, fuck!”

You couldn’t handle it as he dove in and pulled and sucked your clit like taffy candy

Steve chuckled, then looked up at what he was doing to you. Your head was thrown back, one hand still grabbing his hair and the other on your breast.

“Look at me.”

You brought your head up to see him and then gasped as he spit on your pussy and then licked it up. 

“Shit, Steve…”

His mouth had disappeared into your cunt as you replied.

“T-ththat wasn’t very nice. In fact…”

You had to stop speaking because now Steve had brought two thick fingers up and had entered your slick passage. The way he finger fucked you while sucking your clit made your eyes roll back in your head. You had his hair tight and the tighter you pulled, the more he groaned and licked you up. 

You grunted through your orgasm, still cognizant that people might hear you.

After you came, Steve looked up at you and curled his fingers which were still inside you, making you slap your hand over your mouth as you keened behind it. That extended your orgasm and had you searching for air as Steve’s hand ran up your dress to squeeze your soft breasts.

“That was great, Sugar. But you know what would be perfect?”

You knew knew what was coming next. 

You thought.

“If you rode my face and came in my mouth.”

“Oh.”

You were sure that you looked like a fish the way your mouth stayed open in surprise.

You were sexy as hell to Steve Rogers.

He moved smoothly down to the ground and you took in the tent that was made through his khaki pants. You were a little disappointed. You wanted him inside you.

Steve chuckled and reached out his arms, grabbing for you.

“C’mere, Sugar, bring me that sweet, sweet sugary cream.”

You blushed, despite the debauchery you just participated in, and allowed yourself to be pulled up to Steve’s chest, your skirt fanning around him as he hooked his arms around your thighs and moved your skirt up for access.

“Now, I want you to sit on my face.”

“That handsome face with that big ass tongue?” 

You used to tease him about it all the time.

Steve smiled and nodded.

“Ummmhmmmm.” 

He stuck his tongue out and wiggled it.

“The better to eat you with, my dear.”

Then he turned and kissed your thigh. Next, his blue eyes bore into yours.

“Now, bring that ass here…”

You couldn’t help but obey as you raised up on your thighs and scooted up as he scooted down. He pulled you down so that you were seated perfectly on his face, his tongue spearing inside you. His hands held you apart as next he did a swirly thing and also a full lick from the top to the bottom of you, all the while watching you.

All shyness disappeared as soon you were grabbing his hair again and undulating on his mouth. Steve nodded and groaned, which encouraged you to go for the gold.

“Oh, my god, Steve…”

You fucked yourself on his face as he sucked and tweaked your clit, listening to his moans of pleasure. The thought that this is what he wanted to do on his birthday was getting you off.

Oh, and the stunning cunnilingus that this man was performing on you helped as well.

At first you thought it was your orgasm, but the fireworks that were lighting up the sky wasn’t from your own climax, but the thousands of dollars Stark paid for them. You allowed yourself to scream as you squirted into Steve’s mouth, and you collapsed over him as he scooted out, flipped up your skirt and licked you clean.

You lay shivering on the ground watching the lights in the sky as Steve lay down beside you and viewed the fireworks with you. 

He pulled you into his arms as you whispered, “What about that?”

You wiggled your bottom against his boner.

“That will get taken care of, one way or another.”

Steve leaned up and kissed your cheek.

“Right now, this moment is perfect.”

You smiled and relaxed, thinking that what you had given Steve was also a gift to yourself.

Stars sparked in the sky as you snuggled into Steve’s arms and Bucky turned away from the hedge, heading toward Romania.

If you like it, reblog and let me know!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers college au #avengers college au #tony stark #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader smut #steve rogers x black!reader #chris evans #chris evans imagine #happy birthday steve rogers #happy birthday captain #roommate!bucky #roommate! steve #wanda x vision #chris evans smut

[jen-with-a-pen]

ALL TIED UP - FIVE

Previous ⊹ Series

summary: Steve's night is made when his barista ends up sharing a class with him. But Steve's paranoia gets the best of him– can he really trust his gut?

pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

word count: 2.66k

warnings: flirting, fluff, hand holding, closeness, steve is adorable when he's nervous, paranoia, unease, cursing, barista lore™

a/n: had fun writing this one as we build up to friday! i might be switching the days/chapters around in the next few, but we'll see. depends on the depravity of my brain 😈

gif by @paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Last Thursday.

Learning how to draw, when he already knows how to draw, makes Steve feel bad at drawing.

Sitting in the lecture hall of the art school, he doodles over the half-assed notes he manages to take during the first thirty minutes of class. Usually, he loves Drawing 101; it’s his easiest, only late-night class each week and one of the only times he can relax without worrying about one of the brothers barging in with another stupid homework question. Usually, it's just him, his earbuds turned up a touch too high, and whatever subjects the instructor places in front of him. On Thursday nights, nothing stands between him, an easel, and two straight hours of sketching pots and people. 

Except when a said-Thursday night happens to fall on ‘mandatory lecture’ day.

It hasn’t been an hour when Steve gives up trying to force himself to focus, instead choosing to mindlessly doodle over and around the page. The Drawing 101 guest professor continues to drone on about different types of graphite in the pencils kits Steve and twenty-odd other kids in the course were forced to buy. Steve doesn’t understand– nor does he particularly give a shit– as to why a 3H pencil is better over a 3B pencil, or how using an 8B pencil isn’t preferred over a 7B pencil.

A pencil is a fucking pencil.

Steve sighs, failing to stifle a yawn. No amount of coffee– not even the triple espresso concoction his barista had him try earlier that day– could save him from falling asleep in this godforsaken, decades-old room with dimmed lights and sporadically-filled seats scattered amongst the vast sea of empty ones. Honestly, nobody ever came to monthly lectures, save for when their usual professor mentioned the material would be part of their written midterms. Guest lecturers result in a lesser turnout, too, and Steve partially wishes he’d chosen to spend it back at the café or in the library. As the professor continues on to the next type of pencil, the double doors at the back of the room creak open. Still dazed in a bored stupor, Steve cranes his neck over his shoulder to see which unlucky bastard is almost an hour late to the snoozefest. 

He immediately wakes up, shooting up in his seat as if a bucket of ice water were splashed on him. He can’t believe what he sees: it’s her. Her. His barista. 

Mouth agape, he stares as she slowly closes the doors, careful not to draw too much attention to her late arrival. When nobody bothers to acknowledge her, she makes her way down the carpeted steps of the lecture hall in search of refuge in an empty seat. Her eyes dart across the aisles, desperate for just one, inconspicuous place that will draw the least attention. 

As she combs the rows with a furrowed brow and bottom lip slipping adorably between her teeth, Steve realizes he’s got some sort of a chance. Eyes dart to the professor, then back to her. Steve subtly raises a hand, waving to get her attention. Locking eyes, she finally sees him. Relief and surprise replace her bitten lip with a beaming smile. Steve’s heart soars, skipping far more than several beats. He doesn’t– he can’t– take his eyes off her as she quickly shuffles through the row of seats, plopping down next to him and dropping a tote bag at her feet. She pulls out a purple notebook and pen, slouching back into her seat with a relieved sigh, knee brushing gently against Steve’s. A ghost of the sweetest-smelling perfume drifts into his nostrils and he has the urge to replace his oxygen supply with it.

Steve feels like he’s dreaming. Cloud nine, light as a feather, the whole fucking nine yards. He skims over her features in the dim light of the lecture hall– the curve of her lips as she whispers to herself, flipping through the pages of her notebook, trying to find a blank spot; her eyelashes that flick up and down as she copies down the date and class number. He trails down her neck, crossing over the gold bar necklace she wears every day, to her shoulders and arms, her hands. When his eyes drift back up to her face, she’s staring back. Heat blooms in his cheeks and nerves constrict his chest in embarrassment. She smirks, shaking her head and turning her attention to the professor’s current ramblings on B and HB pencils. Steve opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it.

What would he even say? How would he get away with trying to talk to her in the middle of the lecture? The professor would hear him, he’d get called out, everyone would see him–

She huffs, turning to another blank notebook page. Steve side-eyes her as she quietly tears the page out and scribbles something on the first line. Side-eyeing Steve, a small smile pulls at the corners of her lips as she discreetly slides the paper over to him.

hi stranger.

Steve can’t help but grin. It spills across his lips as more heat blooms, trailing up his ears and down his neck. Trying not to seem too eager, he clicks his own pen and scrawls a response. The professor’s voice fades into background noise, going through one ear and out the other. He’s a goner and so is Steve.

YOURE THE STRANGER, STRANGER

He slides the paper back to her. She scoffs a laugh, smile growing wider. 

last minute class drop + switch. u know how it is.

TRUE. DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE AN ART KID

She shakes her head, quickly scribbling when Steve cocks his head, mouthing a ‘what?’

film kid. have to take art class for credit. only one available.

Steve’s surprised at her response, nodding once he thinks it over. It makes sense. 

She makes sense.

It fits her. It fits the way she moves, the way she carries herself, the ease in which she comes up with witty comebacks. It’s then and there Steve really thinks about the contrast between the two of them– the way he’s perceived versus how he perceives her. He’s a frat brother, a six-foot-two guy with muscles he doesn’t know how to use yet, and a lifelong artist who doesn’t fit in– no matter how much he tries to claw and fight his way out of the hole people dig and throw him in.

If anything, he doesn’t make sense. 

Brow furrowing and jaw set, Steve’s caught in the downward spiral he’s been fighting to keep at bay since coming to Richards– since he pledged his life away to Sigma Theta Beta and the never-ending identity crisis the brothers force upon him every waking moment. But, it’s with her that he feels more like himself than anywhere else in the goddamned world. It’s with her he wants to– willingly– be himself. He wants to be himself with her.

He, however, doesn’t realize the hack job he’s performing on his poor cheek tissue until a soft hand covers his, squeezing lightly. Warmth spreads like wildfire across Steve’s skin, breaking him free and bringing him back to the real world. Concern veils over his barista’s expression; her soft, searching gaze jumps between his baby blues.

‘You okay?’ she mouths, studying him, hand still on his. Her brow twitches upwards when he still doesn’t respond. Steve holds up an index finger and goes back to responding on the paper. 

SORRY. LOT ON MY MIND

She nods heavily in agreement. 

same. pencildick up there is putting me to sleep. how do you even do it?

Steve bites a laugh back. 

DRAWING, COUNTING THE CLOCK

Before she takes it back Steve adds,

AND NOW YOU.

Her smile is bright enough to light up the darkened lecture hall. 

Two whole pages are filled by the time class lets out. Front and back. 

Steve allows his barista to take the lead in following other students out of the lecture hall. Buzzing conversations reveal a shared eagerness to get the hell out of there and go spend the rest of their Thursday night doing something else more worthy of their precious time. Steve slings his bag over his shoulder as he follows close behind, verbally continuing their written conversation about her shift from earlier in the day and swapping ridiculous ways on how they’ll manage to work every type of pencil into their midterm.

As he plods next to her, Steve fights an innate urge to place a light hand on her lower back to guide her out on their way to the parking lot. Instead, he gets the door, jokingly half-bowing with an outstretched arm to the second set of double doors. Continuing out of the building, Steve takes a breath, deciding now is the perfect time to ask if she’s busy tonight. Instead, though, she stops abruptly. Steve runs directly into her, arms jutting out instinctively to steady both of them out of sheer instinct. Grabbing her shoulders, she spins around to face him, closer to his chest than either realized.

Steve feels his ears turn red again. She looks up at him, blinking before taking a step back, lips parting slightly. An awkward beat hangs in the air before Steve clears his throat and rubs his neck.

"You, uh,” he swallows, preparing himself for the inevitable, “You maybe wanna go grab a bite t’eat, or somethin’?" 

Her eyes widen, lips twitching at the corners. She looks like she’s about to answer before quickly realizing something, as if internally scolding herself for even looking excited. Pressing her lips together, her eyes dart back to her phone.

"Shit, I–" she quickly types a response and shoves it back in her pocket, exhaling in frustration. 

"What is it?"

"I would love to, Steve. I really would, but," she closes her eyes and sighs, "I can't. My sisters need me back at the house. They said it’s an ‘emergency.’" She adds sarcastic air quotes, rolling her eyes. 

"Oh!” Relief fills Steve’s chest, thankful she’s not purposefully blowing him off with some shitty excuse. “Okay, no yeah, I–I totally get it, family can be-"

She smiles softly, shaking her head and taking his hand to run a thumb over his knuckles. The gesture is so casual, so soft, yet it sends goosebumps up Steve’s arm. 

"Oh, no. No, they're not my actual sisters. They're, um, my sorority sisters." She flinches as 'sorority' leaves her lips.

Steve blanches, swallowing a disbelieving laugh. He can't help the lopsided smile spreading across his face. He can’t help taking both her hands in his and holding them in excitement. The odds of it– all of it– all the things, of all the people, she’s the one to make him feel less alone. She’s the one that understands everything.

He tries, and fails, to contain his excitement.

"No, I– I completely get it. My frat brothers are insufferable and I'm the newest pledge, so–"

It’s her turn to blanche. "You? You’re a new pledge, too?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I’m required by my scholarship–"

"Oh thank God it's not just me!"

"There's one for sisters, too?" Steve gawks. He’s truly in shock at the audacity of Richards to make any student required to endure the circle of Hell that is Greek life. He squeezes her hands. She matches him.

"Of course there is, meathead,” she snorts. “Title nine, or whatever the hell."

Steve nods. "I can’t tell you how glad I am not to be alone in this. It's fucked up, but maybe not as much now that I know you're in the same boat as me."

He pulls her ever-so-slightly closer. She lets him.

"Guess that makes you the Jack to my Rose."

Steve furrows his bro, cocking his head like a confused puppy. 

"Oh God– Don't tell me you've never seen Titanic," she gasps, feigning offense and sending Steve off course, thinking he’s fucked up somehow.

Sarcasm isn’t his strong suit.

"I, uh– no, not that I know of. I–I mean I've heard of the Titanic, but I don't remember the– well I know there's a movie, but I–" 

She laughs, full and genuine, stepping forward as her hands leave his, placing one on his shoulder. Her touch is soft, gentle, more comforting than anything he’s ever felt. 

"I'll show ya some time. Don't worry."

Squeezing his bicep, her fingertips glide down to his hand, grazing his fingers for the slightest moment before slipping between them, lacing them together. Electricity shoots up Steve's arm. Without another word she leads him out of the building, walking down the sidewalk lit by the moon rising overhead and scattered street lamps illuminating the parking lot. 

Steve decides then and there he’ll go wherever she takes him. Anywhere. Everywhere.

She stops at the edge of the parking lot and turns to him. "This is where I leave ya, my car’s over yonder.” She nods to a blue sedan with a Richards sticker on the back windshield sitting underneath one of the street lamps. “Plus, I’d like to save you walkin’ me to my car for another night.”

Butterflies. Steve nods. She scoffs a laugh.

“Text me, meathead. I'll see ya tomorrow?"

“Tomorrow.”

She releases his hand in slow motion and Steve hopes she’s relishing every bit of physical contact with him as he is with her. He heads to his own car parked in the darker side of the lot under the shadows of the perimeter trees and dimmer lamps, swaying languidly and ambling across the pavement in a trance. Steve makes a note to himself: watch more movies, because he sure feels like he's in one. 

The trance is broken when a split second of what sounds like a scream echoes over the lot and is snuffed out just as abruptly as it started. 

Steve freezes, key halfway into unlocking the driver’s side door. Ears prick up, breath held firm in his chest. Turning over his shoulder, he gasps, startled as a blue car– her car– slowly backs out from under the streetlamp and exits onto the road casually. Steve watches it disappear from view. The sound of the engine gunning it down the road leaves Steve alone in the dark, a sick uneasiness pooling in his gut.

He gets in his car, tossing his bag into the passenger seat and pulling out his phone.

You okay? Did you hear that?

Steve turns the engine over and throws the car into drive, foot hard on the brake before checking her text back. 

Hear what? I’m okay! :)

The uneasiness doesn’t leave him. She doesn’t usually text like that. 

“Fuck, get a grip, Steve,” he mutters to himself, resting his head against the steering wheel. He takes a second to gather himself and calm his nerves. The paranoia he’s been trained to feel thanks to his brothers, in combination with the fear of fucking everything up with his barista tonight, must be mixing together and clashing against every active nerve in his body. He’s fine. She’s fine.

She’s obviously driving right now, of course she wouldn’t fucking text how she normally does. She’s probably using voice text. Calm. Down.

Steve sends another text before tossing his phone into the passenger’s seat, the unease refusing to dissipate. He turns on the radio, turning up the song blasting from the speakers in a sorry attempt to silence his racing thoughts. 

No big deal. Get home safe.

His phone stays silent the rest of the night. It stays silent as he gets home, as he throws a bowl of ramen together, as he throws himself onto his bed and flips open his laptop to watch some random brainrot he finds on Netflix. 

He nods off, letting himself be taken by exhaustion as the uneaten bowl of ramen sits on his desk, growing colder, while the dim computer light and hum of dialogue pull Steve further and further into a dreamless sleep.

His phone dies silently in his hand. 

#All Tied Up #All Tied Up Series #Big Red Bow Series #Steve Rogers POV #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #modern steve rogers #artist steve rogers #college!au #modern!au #steve rogers series #slowburn #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #fic #jen writes #chris evans characters #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans series #captain america x reader #fluff #angst

[deliciousangelfestival]

My Problematic Girl - Chapter 1

Character: College!Steve Rogers x Rich!Female Reader

Prologue:  Steve has lived being nobody in this prestigious university. He just wants to graduate and get a job to get more money to pay the bills for his mother's surgery. 

But his life turned upside when a new student attended his class. His quiet and dull life became dangerous and full of surprises.

×××

She exhaled the cigarette smoke from her lips. She still doesn’t care even though he told her he has asthma. 

She looked at Steve and said, “Bark for me.”

Steve felt humiliated, and his pride was crushed. But she held his life and secrets. He had to bury his dignity to the ground, and he murmured, 

“Woof.”

******

I would appreciate any comments and feedback you can give me. 

If you want to be tagged in this series, please tell me.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 ,Chapter 8 , Chapter 9,-

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Pine trees, old gates, red bricks, this is the same view Steve saw every day for the past two years at Stark University he attended as an art student. 

He always remembered the moment he got a scholarship and was accepted to this prestigious university. 

It was the first time he felt alive. 

He thought when his problem with tuition had been solved, he could enjoy being a university student compared to high school. 

But it turned out to be the same. Every student here is super rich; they come to uni with their sports car, or their driver drives them to uni. 

They live differently from Steve, who has to work different types of part-time jobs to get more money and pay hospital bills for his mother. 

On the first day of class, the way rich kids look at Steve when they see him walk into the class, they know he doesn’t have the same life standards as them. 

Steve tried to be friendly with them; they were nice at first. But he realised they were using his talents to do their work. They treat him like, ‘It’s a privilege to hang out with us; you should be grateful.’

Since then, Steve decided it was better to be a loner. With only eight months left, he will graduate and no longer have to meet these people. His footsteps stop in front of the class door. 

"Did you watch the game last night?"

"You bet, and guess what? I sat with the club owner."

“Girls, my dad got us the ticket for that concert.”

That’s what Steve heard every day in his class. He couldn’t join the conversation because of his financial status. 

Steve took the headphones from his pockets and put them on his ears. No one even bothered to say Hi when he walked into the classroom. 

That’s good because if one of his classmates greets him, they want Steve to do their work. It’s better to be invisible or a wallflower. 

He went to his table, dropped the old canvas backpack, and took out the sketchbook. 

Since Steve was a kid, drawing was the only way for him to escape from reality. He forgot how his abused father, sick mother and snobby classmates were.

While drawing, Steve heard one of the female students start gossiping. One of the nice perks of being invisible, he could get a lot of gossip in this university.

“My father met the chancellor yesterday and heard a new student will join this class.”

“Before one semester to graduate? That’s unbelievable, but how?”

“I heard she’s close with Tony Stark. I guess one of his young girlfriends?”

“No, euuh.”

All the gossipers start laughing like they are better than anyone. But Steve agreed with one thing, what kind of person could attend a class last semester?

Suddenly the class door opened, and it was Prof. Abraham Erskine; before he walked into the room, he turned back and signalled, ‘Wait’. 

He put his documents on his table and looked at his students. “Guys, you have new friends. Please be nice to her, alright?” 

“Yeah.”

“Perfect.” Prof.Erskine clapped his hands once and waved his hand towards the person behind the door. “Come in.”

The rumour is true; a new student is joining the class. 

Everyone could see her arrogant attitude when she walked into the room. 

But the way she dressed from head to toe took the attention of every female student. 

One of the females who sat in front of Steve whispered to her friend, “Did she wear those shoes to class, and that watch… cost more than this class tuition.”

“Who is she? If she were in the socialite club, I would’ve known.”

“Her name is Y/N L/N; starting today, she will study with us until last semester.” Prof.Erskine looked at Y/N and said, “Please be nice and don’t make trouble in my class.” 

Everyone gasped when they heard their Professor beg this one student. 

“Shit, she’s that bit*h.”

Steve turned to one male student who immediately closed his mouth. 

“Who?”

“Remember that chaotic night at the H club? She kicked one of the guests to the table. She didn’t even apologise and continued her drink.”

“Ohh, I heard a drunk guy won't leave the female guest. She kinda helps the victim.”

"I remember she went to the same school as me. She kicked a teacher to the window and threw the table at him."

"She didn't get in any trouble?"

“Her father is the CEO of a Law Firm."

"Her parents gave her a penthouse, and I heard she always held amazing parties."

"That's cool. We should ask her later to hang out with us."

Steve shook his head; how fast their opinion changed when they knew she had money.  

Prof. Erskine didn’t bother with his students, who kept whispering. He told Y/N, “You could sit near the window with that boy. His name is Steve.”

Y/N nodded and went to the chair where the Professor pointed his finger. Everyone in the class stops talking and watches her whenever she walks. Their eyes are looking in Steve's direction. 

Their gaze made him nervous; today was not his lucky day. He lowered his head and continued sketching. 

Nothing happened when she sat beside him. Steve thought he had to greet and introduce himself. But it’s unnecessary because she grabs a tablet and wireless headphones and starts playing games. 

Everyone widened their eyes; the audacity of her being impolite and arrogant was on another level.

What Steve had in mind, ‘Ah, another rich kid.’

Professor Erskine didn’t even bother; he opened his laptop and set up the projector. “We will continue the study of Leonardo Da Vinci of his … … …”

Steve looked to the front,t but then he glanced at the new student. Before, she played games, and now she reads online comic books.

'Wait, did she read it from that website?'

She looked at him and caught him off guard. Steve nodded his head and looked back to the front. His face felt hot because that was embarrassing.

After the class ended, the first person who stood up after the Professor left was Y/N. A few people tried to approach her, but Y/N replied to them by saying, "Get lost."

Steve was confused; on the first day, Y/N had started to make an enemy. She could quickly join the clique if she wanted to, but it doesn’t seem like she cares.

‘Bzzt.’

Steve opened the message on his phone that said, “New 24 pages. Do you want to take the job?”

He immediately typed, “Yes.” It's an offer for extra money; Steve wouldn't say no. 

“Steve, I have to talk about your final project.” Professor. Erskine asked him. For their final, every student has to make an exhibition. Usually, universities will provide a warehouse for students. 

But now their curriculum has changed; the uni wants the students to find the place for their exhibition independently. 

Almost all the students have no problem with this except Steve. He couldn't even afford his rent. How can he get money to rent a place just for one day? 

That's why Prof. Erskine asked Steve about a sponsor. 

“Have you found the sponsor?" 

"Not yet, sir."

Steve gulped, he wanted to ask, but he didn't know anyone willing to give their money to sponsor an art student.

Prof. Erskine sighed. "I hope you will find a sponsor during the winter break, Steve. I know you will." He carried all his stuff and left the classroom. 

Steve sighed heavily; he wished he knew one person with money. 

Then he saw the new student, Y/N, looking at his sketchbook. He grabbed the book from her hand. 

“Ah, sorry.” He wanted to scold her, but Steve didn’t expect her to apologise. He put the sketchbook into his bag and gathered all his stuff to leave. 

“Wait.”

Steve's body stopped when he heard that. Then he saw Y/N grabbed her wallet and took an old photo. She shows it to him. It's a small photo in black and white colour, the paper also being crumpled or folded many times. When he saw it, he noticed the woman in the photo looked like Y/N. 

“Could you draw her to be 40 years old? In this photo, she’s 25 years old. I saw your drawing. The way you do the shadow and wrinkles is nice.”

Steve doesn't know how to feel since he never got a compliment from his classmates. 

“You won’t do it for free, of course. I will pay for it. Please?”

Steve takes a good look at her face. When she talks like this, it doesn’t seem like the same person from the class. And she asked nicely, and she was willing to pay. 

“Ok.”

“Great, I will give you the deposit first.” She took $200 hundred from her pocket and handed it to Steve's hands. 

His hands tremble because his drawing would only cost around $75. This money is enough to pay for groceries for a month. 

"Uhm, it's too much." Steve felt guilty if he took the money. He handed back the money to her. 

His act made Y/N quiet for a while; he thought she was mad at him, and she probably felt offended, but instead, she said, "No, for her, it's worth it."

When she said those words, Steve could feel the sadness in her voice. He doesn't know the meaning behind the story, but he will do his best to draw the photo. 

"I will finish this in 3 days."

"That fast?"

Her question made him curious, is she an art student? 

"Are you-?" 

"Y/N!!!"

Before Steve asks her, someone yells her name. He turned back and saw the chancellor of Stark University, Tony Stark. 

It's difficult to meet him, even though there are only two places to find him: the engineering lab or a nightclub. He's a famous playboy but also a genius. 

So, to make him come by to this building is fantastic. And he's here for Y/N. 

Is the rumour true that she's Tony's side chick?

"Nice to meet you, Steve. See you tomorrow."  Y/N smiled at Steve and went to Tony. 

He saw both of them walking together. Perhaps the rumour may be true. 

Steve shook his head; it was not even his business. He should go home quickly and start drawing since he got two jobs today. 

When he gets home, he turns on his old PC, grabs his drawing tablet and opens the storyboard he received. 

Steve clicked his tongue; as a freelance artist, he can't say no to his client, but his morals get tested every time he gets a new storyboard from the client. 

His work is drawing for Hentai comics. Some people see this as disgusting, but some people will like it. And Steve works with the people who are willing to pay. He will receive any request from the website called www.readwithme.com

This is the biggest secret he kept if anyone from the university knew his work. He could get dropped out. He even kept it from his best friend, Bucky. 

He carefully picks a secret name and uses another email so no one will figure him out. His ID is VioletDust18. 

Many people have read his works and subscribed to the story. He doesn't get paid much, but it's enough to pay the bills and rent...

He already got the rough sketch and opened the reference to start drawing. Steve didn't feel aroused when he looked at the photo or storyboard.

When the clock showed 9.00 p.m, Steve finished three pages. He stopped when he felt hungry. He opened up his wallet and saw $200. Today he will order a food delivery to treat himself, and tomorrow, he will buy groceries. 

Suddenly Y/N appeared in his mind. He is grateful that she pays more than enough. But one thing that worries him is that she opens the website with Steve’s artwork. 

She seems like not an art student. She probably wouldn't notice. 

Yeah, it's better if she didn't notice, and after he's done with her request, she will ignore him.

Thank you for reading. I hope you like it.

If you have any feedbacks or want to join the tagged list, you can tell me.

I will always be grateful for those who reblog. Thank you so much.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7 ,Chapter 8 , Chapter 9,-

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[onsunnyside]

Sweet lil nerd reader that Jake Wyler seduces during a tutoring sesh 🙈

me, being my slutty self, enjoy this trope too much:

🌟 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Staring up at him with wide eyes, you slowly spread your legs and clutch the hem of your plaid skirt.

"Good girl, just a little peek."

Your gaze flickers across the library, the other tables occupied by students, their attention locked on books or laptops. You hope none of them glance over and see you—one of the top students in the college, usually so quiet and bashful, flashing your peer.

"So fucking pretty." He's nearly drooling, his pants tightening at the mere glimpse of your juicy cunt dusted with hair and your cute cotton panties pulled to the side. "You've got a really pretty pussy, sweetheart."

Your thighs clamp together and you tug his wrist, but his grip is locked on your panties. "O-Okay, you saw it. Can we continue now, please? This tutoring session is only for an hour."

It was for an anatomy course, one of the many subjects you were excelling at, which is exactly why your professor asked you to tutor Jake Wyler, the football captain.

You agreed, far too shy to say no to anything, but you didn't expect this to happen.

Jake shakes his head, his dark hair falling over his forehead. "I'm a hands-on and visual learner so I need to see everything," he prys your legs apart and firmly cups your cunt, slipping his fingers between your folds. "And touch you a little bit too, I promise I'll be gentle."

Your heart leaps out of your chest—you've never been touched by someone else, or even yourself! "J-Jake!"

"Shh, we're in a library." He's quick, removing his hand and sucking his fingers, groaning at your taste, before shoving them back down your panties. He spreads your folds, trailing down your wet slit until you gasp sharply, "There it is, this is your little button, baby. It feels good when I touch it, right?"

You're confused and caught off guard, barely formulating any thoughts apart from the muddled pleasure as he rubs your clit. At least he's slow and steady, allowing you to get used to the feeling.

"Now, for the sake of the lesson, I'll have to see what happens if I just keep touching you." His low voice fills your head, and tingles shudder through your body. "You're getting wetter, sweetie." He bets your virgin hole is creamy too, just waiting for him to stretch you open. "Making a mess in your cute panties, are you gonna soak straight through and let me keep them?"

oh my 😳

#underrated daddy party #sonny drabbles #jake wyler #jake wyler x reader #jake wyler drabble #jake wyler au #jake wyler x fem!reader #jake wyler smut #jake wyler x female reader #college!jake wyler #college au #jake wyler fanfic #jake wyler fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans x reader #not another teen movie #jake wyler x you #nerd reader #jake wyler x nerd!reader #innocent reader #jake wyler x innocent reader #jake wyler x nerd reader #sonny’s stories

[hertzwritings]

She calls me daddy

A/N: I COMPLETELY forgot about this masterpiece of an idea from @staysluttymyfriends97​, and it would be an absolute crime to not post it. I don’t make the rules. Anyway, Frat-boy!Steve Rogers makes me feel all the good, and I enjoy a cocky Steve, soooooo….

You can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you a personalized something – the sky is the limit with whatever and whoever you want in there!

I love y’all, and hopefully, you’ll like this. Remember, feedback feeds the soul (mine) and my askbox and requests are always open – there’s no limits, because I am me and I have none.

MASTERLIST

CHRIS EVANS MASTERLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: Frat-Boy!Steve Rogers x female reader, Nerd!Bucky (mentioned)

Contains: Language, Steve Rogers being a cocky dick, mentions of purity rings, smut (MDNI), fingering, oral (m recieving), p in v, unprotected sex, cum-shot, praise-kink, slight daddy-kink, slight dumbification, slight degradation-kink

W.C.: 4.638

 She calls me daddy

“Seriously, do you need me there, or are you just acting like you do? You know I have finals next week, and I’ve been prepp…” Bucky glared at you, and you closed your mouth with a snap. “Listen to me. You’ve been prepping for one exam for a full month, now. You’re stressed as hell, you’re jumpy like a cat, who’s been strapped to fireworks, and I miss you.” He pouted and you groaned. “Stop that! You know I can’t handle your puppy-face.” “Please, Y/N, please? I promise, it’s going to be fun as hell, you enjoyed yourself the last time you were there!”

Bucky wasn’t wrong. You had enjoyed yourself, maybe even a little too much. Actually, you had enjoyed yourself way too much the last time you went to his frat house. And you did not want to face the consequences of your own actions.

Your actions being Steve.

Who had quite the rumor of “virgin-collecting”, which fell just in line with what you were when you entered the frat house the first time and left behind as well. Fucking Steve. “I don’t know, Buck…” You glanced at your feet. “Doll, listen to me, you need to actually enjoy your college-life. Don’t stay in here all the time. You’re getting musty.” Your eyes snapped to him, and you glared. “I am not getting musty.” He raised an eyebrow and you looked around in your one-bedroom apartment, realizing just how much you had been focused on exams. You sighed. “One drink. And if Steve gets close to me, I’m literally whacking his stupid, blonde head off his shoulders.” “Don’t you think it’s…” “I don’t, actually.” Bucky sighed. “I don’t know what happened last time, and if you would just talk to me…” “Funnily enough, I don’t. Wait here, give me like… Thirty minutes to get ready. Max.” You didn’t wait for an answer, twirling on your heel to grab a black, strappy dress and your makeup, before slamming the bathroom-door behind you, trying to calm yourself and get ready at the same time. One drink. One.

  The frat house was packed when you arrived with Bucky next to you – he grinned toothily at you and led you inside, grabbing the first drink he could and handed it to you. “I’m going to try and find Sam!” He yelled over the bass. “I think Wanda and Nat is around here somewhere.” You nodded. “I’ll find them!” You yelled back. The music was full of heavy bass – which meant that either Vis or Tony had gotten a hold of the music, because it was currently playing Such a Whore, which you found extremely fitting, when you spotted Steve grinding against a sweating blonde, gyrating his hips. You scoffed and scanned the room, drinking your drink – it tasted vaguely of tequila – and finally spotted the two red-heads huddled in a corner.

“Nat! Wanda!” You yelled at them, and they looked up with wide smiles. “Oh my god, Y/N! I didn’t think I’d ever see you here, especially during exam-prep!” You shrugged and hugged Wanda, who beamed at you. Natasha tipped her red solo-cup at you. “Looking good, babes.” You smiled. “You shouldn’t be talking, look at you!” Nat shrugged with a pleased smile on her lips. She did look fucking fantastic, wearing black leather-pants and a tight tank-top in a blood-red color. “I have to tell you about this thing Vis did the other day!” Wanda pulled you to a chair, and began talking your ear off. You didn’t really pay attention to her, because Steve’s eyes were trained on you, while the blonde girl grinded against him, his face resting in a confused expression. You looked away from his blue eyes and re-entered the conversation. “…. I know, but it’s true! I haven’t seen Steve without somebody in his room in forever, and he’s been like… Almost…” Nat frowned and downed the rest of her drink. Of course, you would join back into the conversation with Steve headlining. “I don’t know, he's been demure, almost. It’s weird.” She pointed to your drink, which you swallowed quickly. “Yes, please.” She grabbed both you and Wanda’s cups before walking back to the kitchen, her hips swaying. It was like watching the red sea parting for her. “What’s up with Steve?” You asked, trying to sound overwhelmingly uninterested. Wanda lifted her eyebrows. “Did Bucky not tell you?” You shook your head. “He’s been very busy with Joaquin.” You nodded to where Bucky was currently tongue-deep into his boyfriend’s throat. “Holy… Wow, I did not need to see that.” Wanda laughed. “Well, it’s a little bit of a mystery, really. So, a few months ago, at the Halloween-party, remember that?” Vividly. You even lost your purity-ring somewhere in Steve’s room – not that it should matter, because the promise behind it didn’t anymore, but it was sentimental. You had gotten used to wearing it and felt naked without it. “Anyway, Steve went to his room at some point with a girl wearing this awesome Christine, you know from the phantom of the opera?” You nodded. Thank God, you had worn a mask. “Well, she wore that costume and a mask, and they went to his room, right? Well, she had disappeared in the morning, and Steve has been stone-cold girl-sober ever since. It’s been almost three months, but he keeps saying that it’s not that interesting anymore or something like that.” She glanced at him, and you followed her eyes; Steve was still on the dancefloor, but looked wholly annoyed at the blonde, who was currently dry humping his leg. “Want to know the weirdest part, other than the fact that nobody knows who the mystery heartbreaker is?” You scoffed.   “He can’t be brokenhearted over a one-night stand.” She lifted her perfect eyebrow. “I beg to differ. He came down the next morning asking about her, and he was wearing this ring, and I think she might’ve left it behind. Like, Steve doesn’t do jewelry, right, but now? He wears that ring on his pinky at all times. It doesn’t fit him at all, so it’s like almost at the tip of his finger, but still. Never takes it off.” You were seething. Asshole. One thing was being another notch in his virginity-belt, but it was something else entirely to flaunt it to everyone.

Maybe nobody knew who you were right now, but it wouldn’t take much to figure out. “I’ll be right back, Wanda.” You said through gritted teeth and caught Steve’s eyes when you stood from your seat, nodding towards the back of the house, where you knew his room was. He cocked an eyebrow at you and nodded once, nearly indiscernible, and began whispering something to the blonde. You didn’t wait to see her reaction, but walked with fast feet to his room, and went inside.

The memories flooded you, as soon as his scent hit your nose; your moans echoed in your head, his tongue had imprinted itself on your body, and it made you shiver. You shouldn’t think about that right now, because you were angry and just wanted your damn ring back. You were pacing the room, when he came in.

“Hiya, sweets.” You glared at him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t sweets me. I want my ring back.” He glanced down at his hand and held it out in front of him with a smirk on his lips. “This ring?” You caught the silver shine of your ring on his pinky. He twisted it around and you huffed. “My ring, asshole. Do you really need proof that you fucked a virgin?” His eyebrows shot up. “That’s some hell of a mouth for a virgin.” You rolled your eyes and damned yourself to hell for your body’s reaction to his voice. You ignored the growing dampness in your underwear. “I was a virgin, not a fucking nun.” He chuckled darkly and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sound. “I didn’t want to be another notch, Steve, and I definitely don’t want to be a prized passion to remind yourself of your feat.” He twirled the ring again. “Who said you were a notch?” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. The music was loud but muted slightly through the door and you could feel the bass in your entire body. “Literally half the campus.” “And that’s believable?” “Yes.” You cocked a brow at him and extended your hand. “My ring, please.” “At least you know how to ask nicely.” He hummed for a moment. “What’s in it for me, Y/N?” “Oh, my God, are you fucking kidding me?” You threw your arms out in frustration. “You need something in return for something you stole?” He chuckled again and leaned against the door. “Sweetheart, I didn’t steal anything. You left it here, and finders keepers and all that.” You laughed mirthlessly. “You’re actually a real piece of shit, you know that captain?” You knew it would get a rise out of him to call him that. He hated it. “Stop that, you know I hate it.” “Give me my ring.” “I don’t think I will.” He twirled it again. “It’s a nice reminder of the girl, who seemingly had the best time of her life with me.” You scoffed. “You really think a lot of yourself, don’t you?” He tilted his head. “Do enlighten me.” He grinned again and you wanted to remove his dick and make him choke on it. “You…” You glowered. “I don’t want to talk to you for longer than necessary, so can I please, just have my fucking ring back?” “No.” “What the fuck, Steve?” “No, what the fuck, Y/N?” He pushed off the door and stalked to you, towering over you. Your breath hitched. “You left in the middle of the night…” “It was six in the morning, but okay…” He ignored you. “Didn’t leave a number, not even a fucking thank you Steven for the most mindblowing night of my life, and you come back here and act all pissy with me, because I wear a ring, I found in my bedroom? You’ve got some nerve, you brat.” “I’m not a fucking brat. You’re an asshole, and I really am not in the mood be here, much less entertain this conversation with you.” He smiled predatorily at you and bent his head a little. “What? You got scared, little girl? After I fucked you stupid, you got scared that I’d what, brag about it to everyone? Let everyone know what a good, little whore you were?” You gaped at him. The fucking nerve. “And you come back here, act like a spoiled brat, can’t even look at me, and think I’m just, what, going to hand the fucking ring back over?” He yanked it free from his finger, and you saw the faint outline of it on his thick finger. “Here, take it. It wasn’t something I kept to show off, just FYI.” He looked slightly pained now. “I kept it, because it was the only thing, I had to remind me of you.” You scoffed and took the ring from him, ignoring your heart thudding wildly against your ribs. “Fuck you, Steve. You knew you could ask Bucky, Joaquin, Sam, Wanda or Nat and they’d probably give you my number. You could’ve asked around. You didn’t care, and you still don’t, because you never do. That’s at least what your previous conquests have said. Loudly, I might add.” You said, pushing the ring back on your finger.

It was funny, it felt almost foreign on you now.

“Oh, shut the hell up. You’d rather listen to girls, who spent a night in here than stay behind to get to know me? You’re stupider than I thought I made you.” He laughed angrily, his eyes burning holes into you. “I wanted to get to know you, Y/N, and you disappeared because you were scared and confused, and instead of handling it like a big girl, you ran off.” He frowned. “And here I thought you were a smart girl, Y/N.” He stood to his full height and gestured to the door. Tears were burning in your eyes as you strode to the door. “I didn’t tell anyone, you know. Just for the record, I easily could’ve, but I didn’t.” “Oh, so because you had opportunity to tell and didn’t, you’re commendable?” You asked, your back turned to him. You hated to admit it, but it did make you feel a little more at ease. He groaned. “Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t say anything to you? You’re so damn defensive, it’s honestly heartbreaking.” “You’re a dick, Steve.” You turned to look at him and smiled at him with as much venom as you could. “Go find another hole to fill, you seem to do that very well.”

It was the wrong thing to say, because his eyes flared up and in a single stride, he was in front of you, pushing the door closed again and caged you with his arms. “Don’t you fucking try me, Y/N.” You glared at him. “I already did, thanks.” He growled and got close enough for you to feel the tip of his nose brush against yours. “You’re skating on thin ice, right now.” He glared at you, and you tried your best to not squirm, because his damn body this close to yours made you feel tingly. “Fuck you. I got what I wanted, so did you, clearly, so let’s leave it at that.” He didn’t like this. “Oh my God, Y/N!” he rolled his eyes. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, coming into my room and acting like I did you a disservice or some shit, because you decided to believe rumors.” His lips turned up in a dangerous smile and his eyes glinted. “You sure as hell didn’t have a problem with it at Halloween. My… Reputation.” You bit your lip. “Actually, you seemed pretty happy about the fucking reputation, because, and Ill quote you: That just means experience, which I need.” “Well…” “No, don’t try to get out of this one. In fact, I’m pretty sure that if I just slid my fingers down…” His fingers slid from the door to your waist, slowly sliding down to your absolute asshole of a pussy, who was – indeed – soaking through your underwear. He hissed when he felt it, and your hips bucked. “Hm. What do you have to say to that, Y/N?” you couldn’t say anything, not really, because his stupid fingers were rubbing circles on your clit through the damp fabric, and your brain was malfunctioning. “So quiet… Did I already make you so fucking dumb, huh? All you needed was my fingers?” You moaned when he pushed against your entrance through the fabric. “Tell me. You want this?” He asked, his lips grazing your neck. Fucking hell.

“Yes.” You mumbled. He snapped to face you again, pressing harder against you. “No, I need clear words, baby. Do you want this?” He asked again, now moving his fingers to the elastic of your panties, his fingers dipping inside. “Yes! Fuck, yes!” you said quickly, when his fingers found your clit. It was all he needed.

He growled and removed his fingers, lifted you from the ground and threw you back on his bed, before he descended hungrily on you. The kiss was angry and full of teeth and tongue, but fuck, it felt good. He groaned against you, pulling the elastic on your panties and letting it fall back with a snap. “Get these off.” You rolled your eyes but did it as soon as he stood up from the bed to remove his own clothing. You quickly removed your panties along with your dress, chest heaving, and your entire body shuddered at the look, he sent you. Steve climbed on the bed and kissed you again, his fingers finding their previous spot on your clit and dipping inside of you. You gasped at the intrusion, and your back arched, allowing him to catch your nipple with his lips. “Fuck, it feels good to have my fingers in you again, baby…” He moaned around your nipple and sped up. How on earth, he managed to coax you to near an orgasm already, you didn’t understand, but you were barely breathing, and your legs shook. “Come on, baby, tell me…” His teeth tugged on your nipple, and you mewled. “Am I who you think about when you’re alone in bed… Touching yourself, huh?” He sped up and curled his fingers. “Y-yes… shit, yes…” You moaned. All pretense of being unaffected by him or not thinking about him was long gone. “Good girl… You want to cum?” He asked, licking wet trails on your breast. “Please…” You breathed it out, and in the same moment, he stilled. “Earn it.” Fuck him. “Wh-what?” you gasped, his fingers still in you and a shit-eating grin on his lips. “Earn it, baby. Apologize.” He kissed you again. “Tell me what you’ve thought of me doing to you, when you’re all alone, touching yourself like this…” He moved his fingers slowly and stopped in the same second as a stuttering moan fell from your lips. “Fuck you.” You mumbled. “Later.” He grinned. “Come now, kitten, speak up.” You groaned and caught his eyes; he was enjoying it. “I’m… Oh…” He twitched his fingers. “I’m s-sorry!” You cried. He moved slowly now, steadily drawing you nearer the edge again. “I’ve… Fuck… I-I’ve thought of you fucking me…” You said, and despite your haze of lust, you still felt your cheeks heat up. “I’ve imagined you fucking me so hard, I couldn’t walk…” “Oh, atta girl.” He mumbled, fingers moving faster now. “But… I-I couldn’t make myself, fucking shit, m-make myself cu-um…” You moaned loudly again. “Because my fingers weren’t enough… Please, S-Steve, I just want to…” “You can cum, pretty girl.” He sped up and attacked your nipple again, and you came undone; his fingers moved so fast and perfectly against every spot, that made you see stars, you wouldn’t have been able to hold back, even if you tried. You screamed as you came, grabbing his bare shoulders roughly, crescent moons indented in his skin form your nails, as he fucked you through your orgasm. “Good girl, look at you… making a mess of me, aren’t you?” he chuckled. “Remember last time, baby?” You nodded and couldn’t help the smile on your lips. “Eager, huh? Come and get it, then.” He moved away from you and flopped down on his back, his large, veiny cock protruding from his body. You nearly drooled at the sight. “Make it nice and wet for me, baby…” He whispered. Yes, sir.

You slowly licked a long stripe along the underside of him, flattening your tongue as you reached a sensitive spot right under the head, and slowly sucked him into your mouth. He tensed up and hissed as you took more and more into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and allowed him deeper. When he hit the back of your throat, you bobbed your head slightly, getting a feel of him, your jaw already aching – he was big, but you were determined to impress. You knew you had some skill. You gagged around his length as you forced him deeper, spit drippling from your mouth to the bed, and he moaned, and his cock twitched in your throat. “Such a good fucking whore, huh, Y/N? Taking me so deeply… Shit…” He moaned again and your lips stretched into a smile around him, before you began moving for real this time – you picked up speed, now feeling pretty confident in the fact, that you weren’t going to throw up all over him, and he met your movements with small thrusts. “Baby… Fuck, you need to… ah… Baby girl, you n-need to stop, sweetheart… I don’t want to… Fuck…” his hand went to your hair and pulled you gently from his cock, and you let it go with a loud pop, his cock bouncing back against his stomach. “Did I do good, daddy?” you asked with wide eyes. “Oh, fuck, you’re dangerous, baby.” He grinned, and pulled you to his side, turning your back to him. “You think it’s wet enough for you?” You moaned as a response. “Do you think you’ve earned it, baby?” He whispered, his lips ghosting against your shoulder. I swear to everything that’s real, Steve, if you don’t…” You didn’t get to finish your sentence, because he pushed slowly inside of you. You gasped and hissed at the stretch, although it wasn’t unwelcome. When he bottomed out, you both sighed. “It’s like you were fucking made for me…” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. You moaned. “Move, Steve…” You gasped. “Baby, I gotta let you adjust, or…” “Don’t. Just… Fucking take me.” You moaned, grabbing the hand that rested on your hip and dragged it to your chest, letting his fingers tug on your nipple. He moved and began dragging his cock against your walls – spooning you, he managed to get even deeper than you could’ve imagined him being and you rolled your hips to meet him. It was intimate, and way more than you thought him to be, but he buried his face in the crook of your neck and sped up, fingers intertwining with yours over your breast. “You feel fucking amazing… Fuck, I’ve dreamt of being inside of you since Halloween…” He groaned and slammed his cock inside of you, working faster and faster. You were shaking around him, your walls pulsing and dragging him further in. “You’re taking me so well, baby…” That did you in. you came with a shout, your body tensing up and your legs shaking, while he fucked you deeply; it felt as if you had been lit on fire, but you didn’t mind it at all. It almost hurt, but you wanted more from him – it was addictive. “Fuck, Steve!” You shouted his name, and he moved his hand from your chest to your mouth, holding you tightly as he fucked you with ferocity. “Shh, baby, you don’t want anyone to hear you get fucked like… ah… Fuck, by me, do you?” Honestly? You couldn’t give a rat’s ass right now. You’d let your pastor hear you, for all you cared, because you wanted everyone to know that he did this to you. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? You want people to hear you get fucked…” He pushed further inside of you, and you saw stars, mewling at the pressure. His speed was stuttering, his grip over your mouth tightening. “Fucked by me, huh? That nice, little, pretty… fucking hell… Girl, getting fucking split open by my cock?” He moaned in your ear, and you were barely hanging on by your fingernails at this point. “Fuck, baby, I’m going to…” He groaned and sped up. “one more, baby, one more for me… I need you to cum for me… I need to feel it, baby, please…” His fingers left your mouth and traveled to your clit, where he began rubbing determined circles on it, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. “Ste-eve… Oh my god…” You whined and when he bit down on the sensitive skin at the juncture of your shoulder and neck, you lost control completely. You came with a shriek, your body tensing and toes curling, wetness gushing from you; your heart was thumping wildly in your chest, and the orgasm felt like it had shattered you, put you back together and tied you up with Steve.

“Fuck!” He grunted and pulled out of you, shooting hot spurts of cum on your hip and ass, painting you with white. You moaned at the feeling and his sweaty forehead fell back against your shoulder, as you both caught your breaths. “I’ll get you a towel, hang on.” “Mhm…” You didn’t have the capacity to answer, simply too blissed out. He left for what felt like a second with a damp towel and began cleaning you up. You turned to your back, when he threw the towel on the ground and settled next to you, drawing lazy circles on your stomach, goosebumps appearing, where his fingers traveled.

“You know, I, uh… I really didn’t want you to leave the last time.” He said slowly. You turned to face him and was surprised at the softness and shyness that graced his features. “I thought that was just your… M.O.” You replied, equally as soft. He shook his head and kissed your shoulder. “Maybe it used to be. I, uh, yeah… I’ve had a thing for you for a while.” He confessed. “What?” “Yeah. Ask Bucky, he’s about to explode with my Y/N this and Y/N that.” He chuckled. “I felt ridiculously lucky to have you in my bed that night, especially since it was a first for you… And when I woke up alone the next morning, I just… Yeah.” You could feel the disappointment seep from him and instantly felt guilty. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a thing for you, too, you know.” You smiled. “I… I was scared. Your reputation does exceed you, Steve. I was sure I was going to be another virgin, you’d added to the collection, and when I saw you wear my ring…” “It’s a purity ring, right?” He asked. You nodded and slowly removed it from your finger. The music from the party had changed to a slow How can you mend a broken heart by Al Green, which seemed fitting for the moment, and you slid the ring back on Steve’s pinky. “We can make it a promise ring instead.” “Oh?” He looked down at it with the softest eyes, you had ever seen. It was like you had given him the most precious thing on earth. “Mhm. A promise that I won’t run out on you again, and that I wasn’t just another piece to your collection.” “I’ve never even been with a virgin before you.” Your eyes widened. “But… Julia said…” “Julia Becker?” He laughed and cupped your face, kissing your nose. “She’s just angry I didn’t want her. I promise you, my reputation is literally just rumors. I don’t want or need anyone else.” You sighed – an invisible weight had been lifted from your shoulders, a weight, you didn’t even know you carried around. “So… You want to stay here?” He asked, kissing you again. “What about the party?” “Fuck the party. I honestly don’t give a shit about it. I’ve got you, right?” He asked earnestly. “Yeah, you got me.”

 When you came into the kitchen the next morning, wearing Steve’s t-shirt (that fit you sort of like a dress, that giant man) and your hand secured in his, both of you smiling like idiots, Bucky and Sam both gaped at you, before Bucky hit Sam on the arm.

“I told you it was Y/N!” “But… She has taste, Buck. Steve is not taste, Steve is… Unsalted peanuts.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Fuck you too, Sam. Anybody making coffee, or does my girl have to go without her morning dose of brain-juice?” You grinned. “Y/N, have you been brainwashed?” Bucky asked with a sly grin. “Shut the fuck up, Barnes.” Steve grunted, but you could feel the pride rolling off of Steve as he pulled you tightly. “Seriously, does he have something on you to force you into this? Is he calling you something that you don’t want to get out?” Bucky scrunched up his nose. “Because I literally can’t understand what you are doing with that jerk.” Steve shrugged and winked at you. “Well, she calls me daddy, so…”

You both laughed at the boys gagging.

 -------------------

TAGLIST:  @acaceta @a-skov​ @angelmather1​ @cooldreamlandsandwich​ @doubletriplepowerbomb​ @est1887​ @enchantedbytomandhenry​ @fionnthebandersnacc​ @herroyalbubbliness​ @jeepgirls-stuff @keiva1000​ @kebabgirl67​ @littlebirdofrivia @luclittlepond @mis-lil-red​ @multifanficdom @one-sweet-gubler​ @pandaxnienke​ @perfunctory-username69 @penneferofvenerburg​ @sleutherclaw​ @sofiebstar​ @summersong69​ @spookyboogyuniverse​ @stardusted26​ @thereisa8ella​ @timetraveller4​ @thatonechickhere​ @themanfromu​ @thelastpyle​ @tragicphoenix13​ @yourlocalhoney​ @wheretheriversrunintothesea​    @avengershoney​ @getthismoose​ @gloriuspurposee​ @sebastianstansassslaps @the-omni-princess​ @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned​ @xcallmetaniax​ @yvonneeeee​           

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans characters #chris evans x you #steve rogers #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #College AU!Steve rogers #frat!boy steve #steve rogers x you smut #steve rogers x y/n smut #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x female reader smut #steve rogers reader insert smut #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x y/N #steven grant rogers #steve rogers au #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x oc #captain america smut

[starch1ldz]

I read a college au buddie fic one time where Eddie was a teen dad and Shannon walked out very early in Chris' life so he was still a baby when Eddie met buck(eddies family moved out of Texas when word spread that Eddie was a teen dad idk man) and buck was Chris's other dad from the get go and I'm just UGH I need to read it again but idk what it was called and it was probably DEEP in the buddie tag.

#star child speaks #they go to college together and eddie surprises buck by inviting him to Chris's first birthday #please #im dead #they dont live together buck lives in a dorm and eddie lives in an apartment off canpus cause of chris but buck brings chris around campus #when eddie is busy and hes friends with the cheerleaders amd the love chris #this might have been an omegaverse fic #honestly idk #ive read so much buddie #buddie #buddie 911 #911 season 7 #911 abc #9 1 1 abc #9 1 1 #9 1 1 fanfiction #evan buckley #bisexual evan buckley #eddie diaz

[espinosaurusrexex]

All the Words I Can't Say

College!SteveRogers x Female!Reader AU

summary: Steve can't help it. He is just so enchanted that all he ever draws is you. Too bad he will never actually talk to you, though - that's too scary. But Bucky always says he has to face his fears some day...

a/n: I have a playlist for College!SteveRogers. It was originally for another fic I’ve written, but apparently I can’t not imagine him awkward and love struck in any college universe. So this serves as a general College Stevie AU vibe :) 

word count: 2.6k

warnings: awkward, love-dazed Stevie, fluff?, swearing, and so sorry (but it's giving slight stalker vibes... it really wasn't my intention he's just so obsessed)

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ･

He dreams in color. They are the words he can’t say, painted on a canvas.

Blue fades in clear water. Like a feeling warming you for a second, a spark. It’s beautiful, Steve thinks. He loves it when his brush does it. He feels like a wizard when the pigment dissolves into the clear again - as if it had never been there before. Hidden in the masses of molecules, disguised only as long as it stays in its entity. Not too much - too much is never good. 

Another drop lands in the water, but now it starts to taint in washed color. Steve still loves it - it’s still magical. But there is something he loves even more. And it’s right there in front of him - not really. But almost. Depicted in oranges and browns, purples and blues, yellows, greens and reds - your eyes stare back at him with adoration. And Steve’s heart skips. Then it clenches and stops. It always does that... when the admonition flashes in his mind. 

It’s not real.

He has to remind himself too often. But he can’t help it. It’s too comforting to live in his fantasies - warm and safe - all he ever needed. Now it hurts with every stroke he dares. It’s not like he hasn’t done it dozens of times before. A notebook filled with sketches hidden beneath the mattress in his bedroom serves as proof of this. It never does anything other than remind him of what will never be a reality, though. You in his arms, you with love painted on your face for him. 

His thumb strokes over the dried paint on the canvas but a part of his finger still smudges it. Damn it, he hasn’t checked his fingers. Now there’s purple on your face, out of place and destroying - but daring all the same. It looks quite beautiful beneath your eyes, makes them shine brighter, makes your smile softer somehow. 

Steve sighs. The purple streak is going to stay for now. He washes his brushes out in the sink, recapping the bottles of paint scattering the studio he’s in. And before long, he flicks the lights off and locks the door. Professor Potts gave him the key for ‘when he needed to let it all out again’. He needs to show her some work soon.

It’s dark out when he reaches the path to his dorm. Stars shine as bright as they can against the unrelenting city lights. It’s hopeless. Just like Steve’s track of time when he paints you, the stars don’t stand a chance. It’s well over midnight when Steve unlocks his room. Bucky would be up. He has been out, drinking with Sam. But even if he would have stayed home, he probably couldn’t sleep... like always. So, Steve doesn’t bother being quiet. 

“Another late-night date with the canvas?” The brunette peers over his phone, though his eyes hold concern for Steve. He has told him hundreds of times before. Go out. Meet people. Don’t dig yourself deeper into this hopeless crush. But Steve never listened. He likes his hopelessness. And, besides, even if he tried to get over you, he knows it wouldn’t be possible. 

His smile finds the ground before he disappears into the bathroom where his sunken eyes stare back at him. He would be dreaming about you tonight - he always does when he paints you. And he looks forward to it, too. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You pass by him once again. It’s weird, because Steve swears he’s smiling, but his mouth won’t listen. He looks like an idiot. If only he could talk to you - Yeah, no. that isn’t an option. Because just thinking about it makes his heart go crazy fast. It’s scary because you’re so beautiful. And he knows he shouldn’t size himself down to leagues and scales, but how can he not when literally all of college is all about it? Bucky says he should grow some balls and ask you out or leave it be. But here’s the thing: he can’t leave it be - and he can most definitely not talk to you. It’s too scary - too foreign.

His brush dips back into lilac. He embraces the smudge now. Hated it for a while - but then it grew on him. Now it needs more shades. His tongue darts out as he tries to precisely draw along the curve of your cheekbone. He gets a little excited and his hand wants to shake, but he can hold it steady, he has practiced it enough.

Now another stroke. And another. Steve finds amusement in the color pouring onto his canvas. The smudge might have been the best mistake he’s ever made. Then again, there are no mistakes in painting. Accidents are meant to happen. They show the painter what their mind wants to see. 

“Is that... me?” Steve’s hands go flying and the brush throws purple all around him.

Oh no. Code red code red code red - that’s a fucking code red!

You just stand there as Steve flinches with the wooden brush hitting the floor, paint sprinkles covering your face - stunned, silent. This is a nightmare. He’s holding his breath. Really, there’s nothing he can do but hope he won’t pass out from the way your eyes bore into his wide and shocked. Though there is a softness in them still. You’re not angry - at least he doesn’t think so. Maybe, if he’s still a little longer, he’ll just disappear. 

That doesn’t happen. Obviously. Because god hates him.

His mouth opens, but there is not a sound formed by his tongue. He should apologize - he needs to apologize. God, but your eyes look too pretty with the purple accentuating your skin. He’s not even mad about it. He could look at it forever, look at you forever. Not that he doesn’t already do exactly that for the majority of his day. But still. 

“Are you okay?” You blink out of your trance and now Steve is panicking even more. “No need to apologize, by the way, I’m fine. Just got caught in a paint grenade.” Your eyes wander down your body and now Steve can see the fine blotches of lilac seeping into your shirt. It's white - shit. 

“I-” He’s trying, he really is. But something isn’t working up there. He just short circuits - wires smoking and all. It’s a complete mess. No wonder he can’t talk. And then your pretty gaze - he just needs to feel it and he’s melting away and, oh shit did you just see the painting? There are several stages of disaster but on a measure from failing a test to your mom dying, this is a six on the Richter scale. Why can’t he just say something?

He opens his mouth again and a weird noise escapes his tongue. What the fuck was that? By the look on your face, he can tell you’re just as surprised. But then your shoulders sag and you sigh.

“I shouldn’t have startled you like that, that was my fault. But this,” your gesture towards your shirt, “this is yours.” He swallows thickly, you seem to be really mad about that shirt. “You really speared nothing but that canvas.”

Now his body turns to the project propped up behind him. The canvas, right. You stare back at him, and now that you actually stand so close before him, he’s impressed at how lifelike he made your portrait. He’s surrounded by you, staring him down, but somehow your presence calms him. One last look at the purple smidge beneath your painted eyes and the breath returns to his lounges. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says when he spins back to you.

A small smile is placed on your lips and it reminds him of the series of sketches he made while you were laughing with your friends the other day. “Oh, so you can talk.”

“Sometimes,” he mutters to himself but he’s sure you’ve heard it. He turns to look at the painting again as he curses his carelessness. He can’t even stop you when you step forward to have a closer look at the artwork yourself. It’s too late now, anyway.

You reach forward but halt just in time. Unlike Steve, you didn’t smear the paint on your fingers all over the piece. “It’s very good.” 

Of course, it is. He puts everything in his paintings. All the things he can’t say. And, as he just noticed, that’s a whole lot.

“Thank you.” It’s small but it slips past his lips with ease. He never likes to accept compliments, but it’s different when you give them. He seeks your approval, especially now that you have caught him shamelessly reaping a piece of your privacy with his obsession.

Your eyes sway to him and then back to your portrait, and Steve is enchanted by the way your skin looks when the light hits it just right. He makes a mental note to draw you like this when he gets home - that is if you haven’t forbidden him to do so anymore. But who is he kidding? He’ll do it anyway, it’s an addiction.

His feet take him closer to you, and soon he’s gazing over your shoulder from a foot away, watching you watch the painting that’s looking right back at him. He’s trapped in the gaze he created and it’s taunting him: This is a mess. Then why doesn’t it feel messy?

Steve is so close to you, he can smell your shampoo, the faint remnant of the perfume you put on this morning, probably. It’s intoxicating, it draws him in and he can’t take his eyes off of you. His fingers are itching to touch you. He can imagine his hand moving your collar away to trail kisses from your shoulder to your collarbone - stop it, Steve. His face is heating up and his hands clench beside his body. 

“How long have you been working on this?” You spin around now suddenly, those lively eyes stare back at him, more intense - more real than he’s used to. And Steve can’t handle it, but his body isn’t looking away either. 

“Not that long,” he whispers as his focus lands on a moderate splatter of lilac beneath your eye. It’s not a lie, he’s memorized your features. Steve doesn’t even register your answer, he’s fixated on that little purple drop of color on your skin. It has a hold on him, he can’t do anything. 

“Why are you staring like that? Do I have something on my face?” It’s a silly joke, but Steve can’t tell you that you do. It would risk you swiping it away. And he can’t have that. Not when he wants to do it himself. He can’t do that, though, the purple spot is mocking him. And then, suddenly, like a bystander, he watches his hand move towards your face. He can’t stop it, it’s like an accident - he just needs to look, but he can’t do anything about it either. 

When his thumb finally makes contact with your skin, the world around him freezes again. There you are, so close before him, he’s touching your face, and it’s nothing like he thought it would be. He’s calm - so calm. Why is that? What is wrong with him?

Steve can hear your breath hitch when his fingers settle beneath your ear, his thumb resting next to the droplet of paint. He can finally feel his heart beating again, it’s getting faster now. He moves to wipe the lilac from your face, but he’s betrayed once again. The paint leaves a smudge beneath your eye and Steve is having flashbacks from the night before. 

Now you look just like his painting - his vision mixed with the perfect reality presented before him and he’s not sure, he can handle it. The world seems to spin when you take his hand from your face and look at the color on his finger. Then your eyes flick back up and his gaze locks with yours. Is this really happening? It feels so surreal.

The moment takes over Steve’s brain. It’s like he’s in one of those movies Sam likes to watch. There should be some piano queued in a second and then the main characters lean in to finally kiss in the rain. This won’t happen here, this is reality. But somehow, Steve isn’t so sure about it as soon as he thinks it.

Your eyes are still staring into his, wide, and it’s as if you’re not quite sure what’s happening either. If you feel anything like him at the moment, you must be captivated by the atmosphere that has been built around you. Steve is sure it can’t just be his big fat crush on you. It’s something new, something that just happened - the moment you took his hand in yours. 

Oh wow, you are leaning in. Panic surges up his spine. He can’t do it, not like this. This isn’t supposed to happen. You’re the princess and he’s the rat living in the peasant’s walls. But suddenly you're lips connect with his and it’s so simple, so effortless. He’s questioning everything at this point. Maybe you’re a witch and he’s a black cat. You are a little wicked, after all. And the way this feels - you and him - it’s like you belong together.

The hand that is still holding his guides him to your waist where it’s placed with promise. Steve can feel the paint transferring to the white cotton beneath his fingers but he’s too busy trying not to faint. He has done this before. He knows how to kiss, but he feels like a toddler with training wheels now that he gets to actually taste you. When your hand snakes around the back of his head, however, he regains consciousness. Your fingers press into his skin and he finally moves his lips in unison with yours. He can taste the minty aftertaste of gum on your tongue when he dares to explore it and he’s sinking into you like melted chocolate. Your breath tickles his cheek and when he pulls you a little closer to him, a surprised huff escapes your kiss. 

Then your hand slips from his neck and pushes gently against his chest. He pulls back, dazed eyes staring back at you. He’s yearning for more, whatever this was, and he’s chasing to stay in the universe you catapulted him into for a second longer. 

Your gaze travels over to the portrait again, then back to him and your thumb grazes over his sweater. “You owe me a new shirt.”

“Anything you want.” It’s a husky whisper in which his eyes stay fixated on the movement of your lips. He would say yes to about anything right now. His brain is mush. 

“It’s a date, then.” It looks like you want to nod, but you’re still staring at him with those tranced eyes - Steve can’t get enough of it.

He swallows thickly. “Okay.”

And then you just smile and leave him standing there, longing for a second more of your presence. But you have turned the corner faster than he can register and that’s when reality is setting back into his brain. It’s like he is snapped out of a vivid daydream, but he can still taste the mint on his tongue and he still has the purple smear on his finger. This was real, this actually happened. 

His eyes get caught on the painting once more. Intensely staring back at him with mockery: You’re an idiot. He knows that.

“Shut up,” he whispers to the drying paint on the canvas as he moves to pick up his brush again. But now that he has had the real thing, his drawings don’t do you justice anymore. 

I know it's a little weird, but I like it. I hope you do, too. You are welcome to share your thoughts - reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 💙

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[sunshinebuckybarnes]

I have to ask. Did you and Andy break in that bed? 😏

Come on over

Pairing: college!Andy x female!reader

Summary: Andy finally gets you in his new bed.

Warnings: petnames (baby), smut; oral (f receiving), unprotected sex. Fluff because these two are young and in love okay? 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Author's note: I've been in such a slump but was determined to finish this! Thanks for sending this in sweet Navy, sorry it took so long 😂💙! (word count: 1.4k)

College!Andy masterlist

Andy had been relentless for the past week. Ever since he got his new bed but you were too busy to go round, he had been persistent every day that you had to come over. But between classes, exams, work and his swim team training neither of you had had any time together.

Except for tonight. It was finally Friday and you were both looking forward to a weekend of doing nothing but each other.

You drop your bag as soon as you close the door to Andy's apartment. Sighing deeply as you kick your shoes off and leave the stress of the week behind you.

"Baby?" you shout, surprised not to see Andy on the couch.

"In the bedroom!"

You smile to yourself as you make your way to his room. He'd been buzzing with excitement when you bumped into him earlier on campus. Five days was too long to spend without you, he'd said.

What you see when you enter the bedroom has the widest smile splitting your lips. 

Andy is lying on the bed in nothing but his boxers. His bare torso is on full display and you can’t help but bite your lip at the sight. But it’s what surrounds Andy that makes you smile. 

The bedspread is littered with red petals and dozens of candles cover the surfaces of the rest of his furniture. 

“Andy,” you breathe, “what is all this?”

He gestures you over with a smile and you can’t get to him quick enough, practically knocking him onto his back when you jump onto the bed. 

“Just wanna treat my best girl,” he chuckles, his hands smoothing up your bare thighs when you straddle him. 

You lean down, your hands resting on his chest as you kiss him softly. His beard tickles your skin softly.

"Have I told you how much I love that you've let your beard grow out?" you ask softly, one of your hands cupping his rough cheek.

He leans into your touch, "you may have mentioned it once or twice," he grins, "particularly when my head is between your thighs."

Andy punctuates his words with a playful pinch to your thigh and you lean down to kiss him again.

“So, how do you plan on treating me?” you whisper against his lips, giggling when his hands cup your ass over your dress. 

His hands continue to rub a squeeze over your body as he begins to tell you everything he plans to do to you, “firstly, you’re going to sit on my face since you love my beard” his hands grip your hips as he pulls you further up his body until your thighs are framing his head. 

“Then when you've come all over me," he growls, nipping and kissing at your inner thigh, "I'm going to bend you over the bed and fuck you until you're begging."

Your breath hitches in your throat as his nose bumps your covered clit, "begging for what?"

Andy pulls back slightly to shoot you a wink, "for me to stop or keep going," his fingers pull your panties to the side so bare you to him, "I don't care as long as you're begging me."

You don't even get a chance to think of a response before Andy's tongue is swiping through your folds. The first contact has you preening at his touch and a small whimper falling from your lips.

"Fuck, I've missed you," Andy mutters into your pussy. His tongue flicking quickly against your clit.

It fits you how much you've missed him too. It may have only been five days but you missed the intimacy. It hadn't quite registered until now just how much you needed him.

You tangle a hand in his hair, pulling slightly when he sucks your clit into his mouth.

"Andy, fuck," you groan, throwing your head back in pleasure.

His hands keep a tight grip on your ass as he devours you. Pulling whines and whimpers from you as you slowly begin grinding down on his face.

You're right on the precipice, the knot inside you winding tighter as he lavishes you with his tongue. You look down, taking in the sight of him under you. His long lashes are fanned out against his cheeks, his hair tousled from your tight grip, he's completely at your mercy yet he holds all the power of your body.

It's not until he opens his eyes and you're met with the most stunning shade of blue that you realise how much he needs this too. How much he's missed you. And how much he's enjoying this.

The look in his eyes has you edging even closer and when Andy envelopes your clit and sucks hard it's game over.

Your thighs tense on either side of his face as you come undone. Andy's fingers stroke your skin as he softly laps at your release until you're shuddering above him.

He moves you easily, your back hitting the soft mattress and his lips crashing to yours before you've even caught your breath.

You groan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, your hands framing his face as his own tangle in your hair.

It's needy and passionate and rough and tender. It's completely Andy.

"Fuck, baby I need to be inside you," Andy mutters against your lips, "if I go any longer I think I might die."

You giggle as Andy lifts off of you until he's standing at the edge of the bed, "you're so dramatic."

He pulls you to the edge of the bed by your foot before quickly flipping you onto your front.

"Don't act like you're not dying for me to be inside you," he huffs, pushing your dress up over your hips and swatting your ass playfully.

You can't even deny it as you wiggle your ass, your toes just touching the floor. You understand now why he was in such a rush to 'test' out the bed, turns out it's the perfect height for him to fuck you from behind.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Andy doesn't even remove your underwear, instead gripping them in one hand and pulling them to the side as he lines himself up with his other hand.

"You ready baby?" he teases, nudging your entrance with the head of his cock.

"Please," you whine, pushing back slightly.

Andy chuckles, "see, told you I'd have you begging."

Your reply gets stuck on your tongue as he pushes into you. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you stretch around him.

"Oh fuck, yes," you chant as Andy's hips snap into you.

You tilt your head to the side, resting your cheek on the duvet as you try and get a glimpse of the man behind you.

One hand remains on your hip as the other comes down to rest by your head. Andy kisses his way up your spine, his movement never faltering, until he reaches your shoulder.

You sit up on your elbows slightly so you can meet his lips. Andy encompasses you; mind, body and soul, until there he is the only thought left in your brain.

Moaning against his lips you begin to beg, "please, baby. Feels so good."

You don't know exactly what you're begging for, all you know is that you don't want him to ever stop.

Andy seems to understand though as he pulls back. Both hands gripping your hips as he pulls you back into each of his thrusts. His pace is unrelenting and you feel that familiar coil within you begin to tighten.

"I'm gonna come," you moan, fisting the sheets as you edge closer and closer.

"Come for me baby, fuck, need to feel you come around me," Andy pants, his hand coming underneath you to tease your clit.

The sensations have you crying out, your muscles going taut as you come around him.

Andy continues playing with your body as he chases his own release. Your soft, whimpers pleas tips him over the edge.

He leans over you, crushing you against the mattress and it's a weight you welcome as warmth spreads throughout your body. Andy kisses your shoulder before slowly pulling out of you. He lays on his back next to you, throwing his arm across his face as he catches his breath.

You look at him from under your lashes and smile, "I should have come round sooner."

Andy laughs, pulling you against him, "well it's a good thing we have all weekend to make up for it."

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed 💙 as always, comment and reblogs and super appreciated 💙✨

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[ramp-it-up]

(Not Stucky)

Living together in NYC as recipients of the prestigious Stark Fellowship was fun times for you and Bucky (football quarterback), and Steve (captain of the lacrosse team). Work and play was a fever dream for your beautiful and talented group. When the harmless flirting between you and your besties goes further, you find that you have feelings for one, maybe both of your roommates.

What’s a girl to do?

Sugar

Steve and Bucky. You’re caught in the middle but these two friends don’t share, they compete. Who will win? And will it be you?

A game of Truth or Dare is the tipping point.

Sugar, Sugar

You made your choice. But now he’s going 5000 miles away. And you were not consulted. Your other roomie is right there and it’s his birthday.

The competition isn’t over.

Sugar Cubed- Near Future

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[slothspaghettiwrites]

"Darling don't fucking test me." Size kink. Older frat boy chris (if that doesn't make sense just chris evans). <3

Ugh, yes, fine. Fine. God, twist my arm why don't ya? 🥹

Where It Counts

Warnings: College AU, established relationships, drinking, dubcon, meanish!Chris, size kink, thigh riding, oral sex, overstimulation, implied ass play, extra unedited

Relationship: Senior Frat Star!Chris Evans x SHORT!Fem!Reader

Author's note: yes this is RPF, but that F is very important. This is a completely fictional story. While the reader is short, I've tried to keep her body as neutral as possible.

Chris pushes you up against the wall by the stair, the loud music thumping through the frat house muffles your pouty whine. He bends to kiss you, grabs your hips, doing his best to get you to his room. The smell of warm beer on his breath makes your nose scrunch. You try and shove him off, you're angry with him. He told all of his frat bro friends you are so tiny, so tiny where it counted.

You love how much he adored your size, how much it turns his eyes soft and how quickly it makes him hard. Are you just a joke to him? Was he not serious when he said you were the one? You grab his stupid oversized hands and again try to shove him off.

"C'mon sweetheart, I said I was sorry. You know it was just joking around." The bill of his backwards baseball cap fills your vision, you see your initial written there in sharper on the faded material. He asked you to put them there. Chris loves you. But you're still angry.

"No," you whimper. His teeth scrape against your neck, making your stomach flutter and heat rush to your cheeks. God, he's a menace. He knows what that does to you, how it makes your knees weak and your panties wet. He's playing dirty.

"Sweetheart, don't fucking test me." He presses his thigh between yours and starts to lift your feet off the ground like you weigh nothing to him, putting pressure right on your clit. "Let me apologize to my girl right. Let me show you I can use my big mouth for something useful. Let me remind you of how much I love this tiny, little body."

He groans right in your ear, rolls his hips a little bit so you can feel his hard bulge. You're still trying to think with your brain and not your pussy. It doesn't matter who fucking good Chris's dick is, he was an ass. Asses don't get laid.

You keep saying it again and again, even as your hands wind around his neck and you let his hands grab your hips again. He moves you against his thigh, tortures you with the slow flex. Even as he lifts you up high enough for your legs to wrap around his tight waist and he carries up the stairs completely. Just because asses don't get laid doesn't mean you don't deserve your pussy being worshipped by that perfect, stupid mouth.

He drops you on his bed, the scent of him wrapping around you as he double check the door is locked. Before you can even sit up a little, Chris is on you, blanketing you with his whole body. He covers you head to toe, cages your face in with his hands and traps your hands against his chest.

Your breath stutters when you see the size difference, how small your fingers look against his chest. The chain he always wears around his neck dangles right at the base of your throat.

"Please, bubba, just wanna taste, let me make my girl sing for me."

You should say no. Just a taste always turns into just a finger or two or three, turns into just the tip, and the next thing you know you're begging him to fuck you deeper until his cum drips out of you until the morning. But god does he know what he is doing. Unlike any boyfriend before him, Chris eats pussy like it's his job. You deserve to have your pussy eaten.

"No fingers."

The words are barely out of your mouth before he is ripping your clothes off. He gets you completely naked, but doesn't remove a stitch of his clothing. With his cap still on, he dives between your legs. He kisses your thighs and your mound, teases you when he is supposed to be apologizing.

"Chris," you groan, frustrated enough to put your hands on his head to push him down.

One of his hands reaches out and grabs your wrists, both of them. The both of them fit just right against his palm as he pulls back enough to look up at you. His gaze flicks between yours and your hands, like he is realising all over again just how small you are.

"Sweetheart, you're so fucking adorable."

He growls it right into your pussy before he licks you from ass to clit. He manhandles your thighs over his shoulder fully, never letting go of your wrists. You can't move, you're pinned down and spread open for his apology. Your pulse throbs in your clit when he licks you again, cleaning up the slick caused by his kisses and thigh.

Chris's tongue spreads your lips until he can thrust it into your pussy. He moans at the taste of you, the vibration sending a spark right through your clit. Your nipples ache for attention, your neck demands kissing and sucking, every part of you needs more. You open your mouth to voice you needs, to moan for more but nothing comes out except a squeal.

He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. Your back arches, unsure if you want to grind your face into his mouth or escape the overwhelming feeling that is making your legs shake. His free hand grabs onto your thigh and pulls you back down, locks you back into place. God his fucking hands. His fucking lips and mouth and tongue.

"Chris, Chris please," you beg. Even though this is supposed to be your apology you can't stop the words from tumbling out as the desperation sets in.

"Fuck, that's right bubba, let everyone in the house hear."

His warm breath is like ice in your overheated, sensitive skin. His words come out between panted breaths. His stubbled chin is smeared with arousal already.

"Then make me cum." You demand or pout, you aren't sure. You just know he isn't putting is mouth to good use like he said he would.

"God, I love when you get bossy."

Any argument about that word is expelled from your body when you gasp. Chris's tongue is on you again, fucking and stroking against your pussy. His nose keeps hitting your clit, but it's not enough, not the right angle. It's teasing and making your pussy wetter, but that's not what you were promised. You need more.

With your hands still trapped in his grip, you squeeze your thighs tighter around his head and grind against his face. He groans like this is a treat for him, like this is exactly what he wanted to do tonight. You throw your head back against his pillows, his cologne and soap and everything invading your senses. Your moan echoes around his room and you feel his grin spread across his face.

He knows you're close, your inhibitions dropping the more your muscles tense up and the more you clit aches for the right attention. You want to scream at him to fuck you right, to suck on your clit again. Your fingers flex as your hips lose their rhythm against his face.

The moans coming out of your lips are higher pitched, more desperate and pleading. A sheen of sweat covers your forehead. Finally, finally, his tongue moves up the little space to your clit. There's a moment where your pussy feels empty, but it's forgotten when Chris's tongue swirls around that throbbing nerve and sucks into his mouth.

His teeth graze your clit and your world shatters. You scream his name as your body shakes and pulses with your orgasm. Your pussy flutters as slick drips out of you. When you've melted, become a mush soft puddle, does he start licking you again.

"Chris," you groan.

"Not done apologizing, sweetheart, you got one more hole."

#sloth asks #nonnie #sloths kinktober 2.0 #rpf smut #rpf #chris evans x reader #chris evans x fem!reader #frat!chris evans #frat!chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #college au #tw dub con #tw drinking #short!reader

[deliciousangelfestival]

My Problematic Girl-Chapter 2

Character: College!Steve Rogers x Rich!Female Reader

Prologue:  Steve has lived being nobody in this prestigious university. He just wants to graduate and get a job to get more money to pay the bills for his mother's surgery. 

But his life turned upside when a new student attended his class. His quiet and dull life became dangerous and full of surprises.

×××

She exhaled the cigarette smoke from her lips. She still doesn’t care even though he told her he has asthma. 

She looked at Steve and said, “Bark for me.”

Steve felt humiliated, and his pride was crushed. But she held his life and secrets. He had to bury his dignity to the ground, and he murmured, 

“Woof.”

******

I would appreciate any comments and feedback you can give me. 

If you want to be tagged in this series, please tell me.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9,-

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Three days later

Steve was always the first person to arrive at the class. But today, his record was broken because Y/N was the first to arrive. She's faster because Tony drops her in his sports car. 

Perhaps she came early, hoping no one would notice their relationship. But they failed because Steve saw them. 

He hid and waited outside until Y/N entered the classroom. When he stepped in, he felt nervous because she was staring at him. He gathered his courage to say, "Good morning, Y/N!"

He almost screamed; why the heck did he greet her like that? Maybe because it's the first time in his uni years to greet his classmates. 

"Morning."

Short reply.

But it's an improvement. 

For a few days, Steve noticed Y/N never listened to the lecturer, ignored other invitations, and played games on her tablet. 

And she constantly smokes. She offered him one time, but he said no because he doesn't smoke because he has asthma. 

One thing he has learned is that she has no art skills. She had no idea when he mentioned figure drawing or dynamic shapes. 

Sometimes she likes to see his sketchbook and his previous artwork. But Steve is always nervous when she looks at his art because he's afraid if she ever reads his art from that damn website. 

Steve went to his chair and opened his bag. He opened the document bag to grab the drawing she requested. 

He handed the drawing to her. "I used the source from the photo to draw her looking like 40 years old. The size is A4, and I made another with a photo size for your wallet."

Steve noticed in between classes, sometimes Y/N would open her wallet to see the photo. He asked her yesterday who the person was. 

"My mother." 

She looked intimidating but became a softie when she mentioned her mother. 

Y/N took the paper to see it closely. Her fingers caress the picture; she is quiet and mesmerised. Steve sees this as complimenting how she " aww" with his works.

She looked at him. "She's beautiful, just like I imagine. Thank you." 

Steve felt his cheeks getting warm. Is he blushing? 

"You're welcome. I'm glad you like it."

Y/N pulled something from her bag that looked like a  white envelope. "This is the rest of the payment."

Steve almost jolted his eyes, looking at how thick the envelope was. His fingers trembled when he touched it. 

When he counted it, the amount was around $3,000. 

He gasped, "Y/N, I couldn't accept this." 

She ignored him and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket. "With the quality of your work, it's worth it. I'm going for a smoke before the class starts." 

She waved without looking at him and left the class; she also brought the drawing with her. 

Steve still looks at her back, holding the money envelope to his chest. From all the part-time and side jobs he took, he never got this amount of money in such a short time. 

He doesn't even care if Y/N is a troublemaker; in Steve's mind, she's different from other rich kids.

In his senior year, maybe he could have one friend. 

During the class. 

Everyone is painting like usual; the lecturer doesn't give any assignments because the last semester is approaching. 

They let the student gather ideas to finish their last assignment on time. 

Steve also focused on his art. While he painted, something splashed on his canvas. 

Red paint. 

He was sure he didn't use any red colour. 

He turned around and saw three male students he never conversed with standing behind him.

"So, you're friends with Y/N? How does it feel?" Luke, one of them, is mocking Steve. 

He looked at Y/N's chair; she still didn't return from her smoke break. 

"I said this to you as an advice. You shouldn't get close to Y/N. Because you're an eyesore."

"She's not supposed to hang out with you. She will eventually realise it's a mistake knowing you."

Ah, they're mad because Y/N doesn't want to join their circle, and she also ignores them. So they vent their anger through Steve. 

Steve clenched his fist. They want to make him feel bad by saying he's a weirdo compared to Y/N. 

But…

What they said is true; he's just nobody.

But can he be selfish this one time? Deep down, he wants to be friends with her. 

"That was a rude thing to say."

Steve lifted his head because he heard Y/N's voice.

Then he heard Luke scream, "ARRGHH!!!" and the sound of someone falling surrounded the room. 

Even Steve almost jumped from his chair. Did he just see Y/N kick Luke to the floor?!!

"Ouch, I'm going to sue you." Luke pointed his finger at Y/N.

Everyone became silent because they knew Luke's father was a famous CEO. 

"No, I'm the one who is going to sue you." 

Steve gulped; it's scary how rich people fight. They will get their lawyer to enter their battle. 

Luke looks at Y/N with disbelief. "I'm the one who got hurt. You kicked me."

Y/N leaned down, looked at Steve's canvas, and turned to Luke again. "You have destroyed someone else's property, and you try to defame my name."

She pointed the brush at Luke's hand. 

"The only person in the class who uses bright red paint today is you. And I felt hurt by the way you mentioned my name to Steve. I see this as self-defence."

She leaned closer to Luke's ear. "Go back to your seat, or tomorrow there will be news of you high on drugs with the senator's son."

Luke's breath hitched and trembled. How did she know this secret? 

Y/N fixed his shirt, and she said this as if nothing happened. "I'm sorry I kicked your hips; send me the hospital bills."

Luke immediately stood up and bowed down at her. If his drug problem gets known, his father's business and the senator will be ruined. 

"Sorry, it will never happen again." Then he turned to Steve, "I'm sorry I ruined your painting."

Steve wanted to speak, but Luke and his friends left the classroom. 

He looked at Y/N with awed eyes. Except for Bucky, nobody ever defended him in this university. 

"Thank you, Y/N."

Y/N raised her shoulder. "It's nothing."

After the class, other students left the classroom quicker than usual. It seems like they are afraid of Y/N. 

He walks with her from the class to the park; Steve wants to ask a favour from her, "Ehm, Y/N can I ask for your help?"

Y/N didn't glance at him; she was still playing with her phone. "Just say it."

Steve gripped his bag tighter and cleared his throat. "Uhm, so for the final assignment, every student has to make an exhibition for their artwork. But I don't have any money to rent a studio. I know it's too much to ask, but do you want to be my sponsor?"

He continued, "I won't do it for free. I will do all your assignments."

"No." 

That was a cold rejection. He was prepared, but to hear those words still hurt. He faces down and holds his tears. "Uhm, I see. It's okay. Sorry to bother you, Y/N."

He stepped back, preparing to run away, but then he heard, "When I said no, it is about you doing my assignment. You don't have to do that."

‘Is she going to say yes?’ Steve hoped so. 

"But, how are you going to graduate with nothing?"

Y/N chuckled. "I don't need to worry about that since I already have a bachelor's degree. I'm here because of punishment."

"Wha,-" 

'She has a bachelor's degree?"

She immediately cut his curiosity and lit a new cigarette. "I will be your sponsor."

Steve gasped, his hand covering his opened mouth. His eyes are getting blurred because he wants to cry. Finally, his prayer answered, "Thank you, Y/N; I will remember this my whole life."

Y/N inhaled and exhaled the smoke from her mouth. She tilted her head a little."It's nothing because I like your work, VioletDust18."

"What?" His celebration stopped. Steve's body felt numb. It felt like someone put a shackle on his foot that made him couldn't run. 

Nobody in the real world calls him with that ID, only in emails from people who ordered his art. 

Y/N smiled at him and said, "I look forward to our cooperation Steve Rogers, or should I say VioletDust18?" 

Oh God, she said that name again. 

Steve felt scared; what kind of person had he just made a deal with?

Thank you for reading. I hope you like it.

If you have any feedbacks or want to join the tagged list, you can tell me.

I will always be grateful for those who reblog. Thank you so much.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7 , Chapter 8, Chapter 9,-

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[onsunnyside]

³¹.⍭ 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Major Crossover—ghostface!boyfriends!: Ari Levinson, Steve Rogers, Curtis Everett, Ransom Drysdale x cheater!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | SOFT DARK themes and elements, cheating, revenge, obsessive/possessive behaviour, jealousy, competition, size difference: all 6’7-6’9, manhandling, manipulation, coercion. SMUT - minors DNI, NON-CON/DUB-CON: they’re all wearing the same mask & reader doesn’t know who it is, chase kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex (p in v, anal), double penetration. specific warnings in each part.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Don't get sad, get even. Based on this post.

𝗧𝗼𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝗪/𝗖 | 8.23K

𝗔/𝗡 | happy halloween, besties !! and happy smutty-tober finale. this is not quite a battle of the boyfriends but more like revenge of the boyfriends. Heed all warnings, you are responsible for your media consumption. No gifs/photos belong to me [pinterest board], all credits go to the original creators, but the visual was made by me.

Feel free to send asks about this series!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: (1/2)

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