#stargazingfangirl18

[krirebr]

Quick drabble/riff prompt! First thing that pops into your mind for: Curtis + possessive + “Well that escalated quickly.”

You could feel Curtis’s eyes on you from across the party. You rolled your eyes to yourself a bit as you leaned in closer to better hear your friend. And because you knew how it would look. It was too fun to get him all riled up. Sure enough, moments later, Curtis was beside you, his hand on your wrist, dragging you away with a curt grunt to your friend. He pulled you down the hall, shoving you into the bathroom.

He pinned you to the wall, covering you with his body. "That’s the coworker that likes you?" he growled, in between nipping at your neck, his hands roaming all over your body, like he needed to touch everything at once.

Your friend had gotten very drunk at after-work drinks a few weeks ago and had confessed to you that she'd been so bummed when she found out you weren't into women because there were all sorts of things she wanted to do to you.

You'd told your boyfriend when you got home that night because you'd found the whole thing to be both very flattering and very funny, and ultimately, completely harmless. Apparently, Curtis didn't quite agree.

"No," you gasped, as he ran his hand under your skirt, up your inner thigh. "That's the coworker who wants to fuck me, that's what she said." You stuttered at the end of your sentence as he yanked your panties to the side.

"Yeah?" he asked, as his thumb began to circle your clit, and he pushed one then two thick fingers into your cunt in quick succession, making you choke on air. "You wanna fuck her? Think you have the right?"

"No!" you cried as his fingers curled in just the right spot that had you panting into his neck.

"And why not?" he asked, his breath hot against your ear, his body still pressing you into the wall. "Who do you belong to?"

"You! Just you! Fuck, Curtis, fuck fuck!" You shouted as he pressed hard against your g-spot and you fell apart around him. You panted against him as he held you up through your orgasm. Then, after a moment, once you finally started to come down, and he'd gently removed his fingers, you chuckled against him. "Well, that escalated quickly."

He gave you a shark-like grin and shook his head. "We're not done yet. Go get your coat. We're going home so I can fuck you into the mattress and really make sure I've gotten my point across."

[navybrat817]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must pick one CE fictional babe and share a hoe thought including the prompts: midnight + soft!dark 😏 Go on and spread those shameless hoe vibes and your legs 😘❤️

Sis! I asked you with no context to choose between Steve and Ari. Hehe. Hope you like it.

When the Clock Strikes

Pairing: Soft Dark!Ari Levinson x Female Reader Summary: You wake up and realize you're not alone in your new place. Word Count: Over 1k Warnings: Implied smutty times, non-con/dubcon elements (you have been warned), creepy vibes, otherworldly, Ari Levinson (yep, he's a warning) A/N: Happy Sinday! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren’t sure why you awoke so suddenly, but you found yourself shivering as you sat up in your bed. You normally had no trouble sleeping through the night, though you couldn’t be sure it wasn’t morning or not thanks to your blackout curtains. Maybe it was a touch of anxiety since you were living in a new place, but you loved your new home. It also could’ve been because you were freezing.

And naked.

What the hell?

You covered your chest as you tried to see through the darkness of your room. The last thing you remembered coming home after having a couple of drinks with your friends. The warmth from the alcohol made you strip off most of your clothes before you collapsed on the silky sheets, but you were certain you kept your bra and underwear on. What happened to them? Where was your comforter?

With a tired sigh, you grabbed the sheet from the end of the bed and covered yourself up. You probably kicked the comforter away in your sleep. It still didn’t explain what happened to the rest of your clothes. Fear lit up in your chest like a flare at the thought of someone else taking them off, but you didn’t bring anyone home with you.

I didn’t have that much to drink.

Glancing at your nightstand, you felt around for your phone and tapped the screen. Midnight. “Just go back to sleep,” you muttered to yourself, fluffing your pillow and resting your head against it with a huff.

Silence filled the air as you shut your eyes.

They snapped open as the closet door handle turned a second later.

Oh, my god.

You lay frozen as something or someone slowly pushed the door open, the creaking noise making your heart palpitate. From what you could see, a tall, built man with the brightest blue eyes you’d ever soon stood in the middle of your closet. You shouldn’t have been able to make out his eye color from the lack of light, but they seemed to glow as he took a step toward you. No sound came out when you tried to scream.

Why can’t I move?

Though you didn’t see him move his hand or move any closer to the bed, he turned on the nearby lamp. Whether to get a better look at you or for you to see him, you weren’t sure. He had no shirt on, the dark hair on his chest matching his luscious locks and beard. His piercing gaze seemed to see right through you as you thought about how handsome he was. It wasn’t right to think that way, but fear was sometimes unexplainable.

He’s a stranger in my home. He was hiding in my closet. He-

“You’re much prettier than the last tenant,” the man spoke into the darkness, his voice rich and deep. “And all alone.”

You were still incapable of using your voice as you attempted to scramble away from him. You asked before signing the lease why you got the place so cheap, but you couldn’t recall the answer. Did he do something to the last person who lived here? Why didn’t you ask around more?

“Have I rendered you speechless, sweetheart?” he asked with an amused smile, gripping your ankle through the sheet. “We’ll need to change that.”

Your heart leapt to your throat when he tore the fabric away to reveal your naked body. “What do you want?” you finally asked, your voice no louder than a whisper.

The bed dipped under his weight as he crawled toward you. The mixture of light and shadows cast a sinister glow along his face as he smiled. “I want you to scream my name when I make you come.”

He cut off your whimper when his hand shot out to grip your throat. “Please,” you gasped.

“Ari. My name is Ari,” he told you, squeezing as he nudged your thighs apart. You didn’t know who he was. More accurately, what he was. “And I know you’ll take my cock like a good girl. I’ll wreck your cunt ‘til you beg for me to keep you.”

You arched your back, his touch everywhere though he didn’t move his hands. His fingers pinched your nipples, his tongue licked your folds, but he stayed still above you. It was otherworldly. It had to be a dream.

Or a nightmare.

“But you won’t have to beg much. I already plan to keep you,” he promised, brushing his thumb along your lips before he forced them open. “And I plan to ruin each of your holes. Your cunt, your ass, your mouth, they’re mine. You’re mine.”

You made a sound of protest around the digit in your mouth when you felt the head of his cock breach your tight hole. He hadn’t prepped you, but your body betrayed you by trying to suck more of him in. Why weren’t you fighting? Why did you want this?

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let your sweet cunt welcome me home where I belong,” he grunted.

I belong to you, Ari.

Before he sheathed you completely, you woke up with a gasp. You gulped as you felt along your body, your heart pounding in your chest as your eyes darted around your dark bedroom. A nervous giggle escaped when you realized you were all alone. No one was in your room and you were okay. A strange man wasn’t about to take advantage of you. It was just a dream.

A vivid, erotic dream.

“Maybe I did drink too much,” you said, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. You frowned when you saw the time.

11:59pm

“What?” you whispered, gripping the device when you watched the time change to 12:00am.

Midnight.

The scared giggled came out again as you set your phone down. “It was just a dream,” you said, your gaze flickering to the closet door where it remained shut.

Just a dream.

That’s what you told yourself when the door handle turned.

Could be a fun world to explore with these two! Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

[paperweight91]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Lloyd Hansen + stalker + “I knew you’d taste incredible.”

Well thank you for your patience since the muse decided to fuck off to places unknown once I dug into this. I really hope you enjoy my take on this Siri! ❤️

How My Poor Heart Aches, With Every Step You Take

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x reader

W/C: 1064

Warnings: stalking, gunplay, enough crazy to go around

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this, so I hope you enjoy reading it just as much! As always comments and reblogs are much appreciated! ❤️

You fluffed the pillows on the couch, your anxiety translating into cleaning. Things had been weird lately. You weren’t sure what was off but something was.

You smoothed your hands down your dress, and walked into the kitchen. You couldn’t stop your hands from moving. Checking on your dinner would calm you a bit.

You saw a flash of headlights through the kitchen windows. It was late for anyone to be visiting. You went to the front window, pushing the curtain aside just enough for you to peek into the driveway.

Nothing.

Maybe someone had used the driveway to turn around?

You shrugged and returned to the kitchen. Puttering around and checking your soup. This meal was going to be perfect. Five courses, a beautiful bottle of wine, everything was exactly how you wanted it.

You took off your apron and washed your hands, deciding to set the table while you waited for everything to be done.

When you entered the dining room, you saw a figure in the shadows. You couldn’t quite make out their face, but the stance was one that was unmistakable to you. You let out a shrill scream and dropped the plates and cutlery in your hands, shattering the glass.

The tall man slinked out of the shadows, with a gun raised in your direction. “You wanna tell me what’s going on here Suzie Homemaker?”

You shivered and took a step back. This was it, the moment you had been waiting for, and now you were paralyzed. You had planned and planned for this moment, and yet still, here you were with your mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

“Speak. Now.” He leaned forward across the dining room table, letting his full size show. You knew he was intimidating, but this was something unlike anything you had seen before.

”I - uhh…” you cleared your throat and tried again, “I’m sorry. Lloyd, I know this must be quite a shock for you. Honey, I’m here to take care of you.” You smoothed your hands down your dress, and took a few steps towards the mustached man. “I see how hard you work, and I know that things are so tough right now. You have to know how much I care about you, don’t you sweetie?”

Lloyd’s eyebrow quirked up, and he stood back to his full height. He motioned for you to go on with the gun in his hand.

“I made you a wonderful dinner, I know you’ve had such a long day. Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll bring it out for you.” Your smile turned a little manic as he smirked at you.

”Oh yeah, no I don’t think so Buttercup.” Lloyd strutted around the table and placed the gun under your chin, tilting your face up to his fully. “Here’s how this is gonna go: You’re gonna go clean up that horrendous smell in my kitchen, and then you’re gonna get the fuck out of here before I make you. Got it?”

You let out a sweet giggle, before reaching up to cup Lloyd’s cheek. “Honey, don’t be like that! I made all of your favourites. I even have something special planned for dessert.” You winked at him and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Please baby,” you whispered against his lips, “I worked so hard for you.”

Lloyd’s eyes narrowed, you could see him running through all the possible situations in his mind. “I have to make a few calls. Do. Not. Leave.”

With that he turned quickly and left to his office.

You went to the pantry and grabbed the broom to sweep up the broken glass. After the mess was cleaned up and the table was set, you set about putting all your work into serving dishes. You had to impress Lloyd, this was your only shot. And if the man wouldn’t eat your dinner, you were sure there were other ways to persuade him.

When you returned to the dining room with your final dish, you saw Lloyd sitting at the head of the table. You pasted a broad smile on your face, “You ready to eat Honey?”

Lloyd snorted, but didn’t say a word. You served him some soup and salad, then served yourself before sitting.

“Wine?” You asked.

He only shook his head. He was staring at you, the look in his eyes one you couldn’t exactly read. You nervously played with your napkin, the feel of the cotton soothing you slightly. Suddenly Lloyd smirked, “Come here.” He held his arm out towards you.

You stood on shaky legs, this wasn’t going at all the way you expected. But he wasn’t throwing you out, so you followed his direction. He perched you on the edge of the dining room table. “Alright Sweetcheeks, let’s do some real talk shall we?”

You nodded dumbly, not sure at all where Lloyd was going with this.

”I’m going to ask the questions, and you’re going to answer them. Lie to me, avoid the question or do anything I deem suspicious,” He trailed his gun between your thighs, “Understood?”

You nodded again, but at his stern glare you cleared your throat, “Yes Sir.”

Lloyd smirked and dragged the gun closer to the apex of your thighs, “Great! What are you doing here?”

You gave him a perplexed look, you’d already told him this. You sighed and answered, “I told you Honey, I just want to take care of you, I love you so much.”

He hummed, “And how long have you been watching me?

You drew in a harsh breath, you had to answer. “Six months.” You hung your head, as tears started to gather in your eyes. You felt Lloyd press the gun into your soaking wet cunt, but instead of fear a jolt of arousal ran through your body sending shivers up your spine.

“Eyes up, Buttercup.” When you returned your gaze to Lloyd’s you saw mischief dancing in his eyes. You hiccuped on a sob as Lloyd began teasing you with the muzzle of the gun.

“I-ngh-I’m sorry.” You tried to bite back the arousal spreading from where Lloyd had his gun pressed against you.

He drew it away, and brought it to his own lips sucking on the tip and humming loudly. “From the crazy in your eyes, I knew you’d taste incredible.”

***

Taglist:

@stargazingfangirl18 @krirebr @rebeccapineapple @precious1610 @bval-1 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @abbyyourlocalmilf

[thezombieprostitute]

What’s the quickest way to short circuit this guy’s brain?

Fluff:

Scritches. Whether chin scritches or scalp scritches, the intimacy, affection and just how good they feel for him is guaranteed to get him to stop whatever he's doing and groan in pleasure. He will drop his controller and immediately respond with affection and loving, like the puppy he is. Bonus points if you've recently gotten your nails done. He will melt into your touch and whine when you stop.

NSFW:

Flashing him. Whether you're lifting your shirt just for fun or to interrupt an argument (or want some attention), he will literally freeze in place until you put your shirt back down. That's when he shakes his head like he's waking up out of a dream and asks, "wait, what were we just doing?"

[foxgloveprincess]

For whenever you feel inspired to play with him: Feeezy + pressed together in a tight space + “Ohhh, kitty cat, you have no idea what I could do to you.” 🫠 I think I just hurt myself writing this lollll.

Sweet Jesus, Siri. Fuuuuucccckkkkkkkkkkkk 🥴 This is giving A.W.A. Freezy before he took his princess.

Warnings: Dark AU, Prequel, Predatory Behavior, Housing Instability, Income Instability, Innuendo and Suggestion, Manhandling, Barely Edited. Minors do not interact (18+).

Word Count: 1,600

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

The stone concrete of the park table bench grinds into your thighs. But it’s a free place to sit and spend your time. Plan your future—if you even have one. The coins spread across the table. You flip each one face up and sort them out. It’s all so bleak. 

You check the time on your watch and sigh. You’ll have to head back to Vera’s soon. She’s not your first choice for couch surfing, but she always says yes when no one else does. Staring hard at the coins, potential plans formulate. If only you could land a solid job or two, not like the one at the hotel that only calls you when they need extra hands. 

The cheery, mechanical tones of the ice cream truck chime across the playground. You glance up, the same Mr. Freezy truck that stops by every day. The same ice cream man. It’s no substance, but you get up from your seat for the soft serve, scraping every penny up from the tabletop. 

You hang to the back of the line, arms crossed over your chest and gaze cast to your feet. Shuffling along, you finally get to the front. You glance over at the menu, catch sight of his back, his hands digging around in his freezer. 

“What can I get for you?” he asks, tone harsh and impatient. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Pronge,” you say, clear and loud—knowing the exact steps to this little game the two of you play. 

He straightens and spins quick, leaning out his window a bit to get closer to you. 

“Oh, hi.” His lips tilt in the inkling of a smile. His tone far more friendly, though still not soft. You don’t think he knows how. “Soft serve?”

“Yes, please,” you reply with a nod. 

He gets to work, eyes glancing your way every so often. “You want it dipped?” 

“Yes, please.” 

He smirks. “Been meaning to ask,” he begins, stirring the chocolate with a ladle. “What’s your opinion on stuffed animals?”

Caught off-guard by the question, you don’t reply immediately, though you keep your smile on your face. 

“I, uh, I think they’re cute, Mr. Pronge,” you finally say. 

He turns and hands over the cone. You thank him and grab a couple of napkins from the holder. 

“Cause I was thinking.” His shoulders shrug, but his eyes remain focused, intense. “I have a bunch laying around and I got no need for ‘em.” 

“Oh.” You stare at him a moment, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze, wishing you could accept. “I would love to, except I don’t really have space for anything right now. I’m sorry, Mr. Pronge.” You want to look away, ashamed of your situation, but you can’t. That wouldn’t be playing the game. 

His eye glint behind his glasses. His jaw ticks. You wonder if you’ve upset him. A glance at your ice cream cone turns your empty stomach—free food. 

You bite your lip and say, “I’m living on my friend’s couch right now. I can only keep what I can carry.” 

Tears dot your waterline, but you sniff them away. Refusing to break down in front of the generous man. He already pities you enough to give you charity. One a day, everyday. You don’t need to look any more pathetic in his eyes. 

“I understand,” he says, reaching out his window to pat you on the shoulder. An awkward gesture, but one from which you don’t shy away.

“Thank you again, Mr. Pronge.”

He hums and you take the first bite, teeth cracking chocolate. “See you tomorrow.” 

You wave and back away. Already, your ice cream starts to drip down your wrist. You lick at your skin before wiping with a napkin. Another half hour on the park bench, then you’ll head over to Vera’s. 

The lights are so low you can barely see. Music thumps around the walls, barely intelligible. No melody, all about the beat. Sitting at a table with your water, you watch Vera, strutting around the dance floor. She flits from one partner to the next. Her smile shines bright, and it makes you wonder whether she had been telling you the truth. 

Trying to fix the borrowed outfit, you wiggle in your seat. The fabric clinging too tight to all the places you don’t want the attention. You glance around, people watching. Waiting, really, for Vera’s friend. 

The flash of glasses catches your eye. Illuminated by the lights flashing up above. You squint. It couldn’t be. The hair falling around his shoulders, the colorful collared shirt. You’d never seen him out of his uniform. It was hard to tell. If only they’d make this place a little brighter. You shake your head and take a sip from your glass of water. 

“You should be dancing,” Vera slurs. Her body slumps against you. Already intoxicated from a few drinks. She wraps her arms around your neck and presses her face too close to yours. “Come on.” She tugs at your limbs, but you stay put. 

“I thought we were meeting your friend?” 

She huffs and releases you, opting instead to cross her arms and pout. “We will.” You’re surprised she doesn’t stamp her foot with the indignation in her tone. “As long as you catch his eye.” She nods toward the VIP section and the man lounging on one of the couches, surrounded by women. “So, come on.” 

You swallow and stand. This was not the opportunity you expected, but you’d spent your last cent today. You’d have to do whatever it took not to drown. 

Following Vera to the dance floor, you take a deep breath, trying to block out all the bodies crushed together. They press and grind. You sway. Skin crawling at the perceived attention. A fish out of water. 

You hate this music. You hate these people. You hate your life. 

Your hips move from side to side, shaking off hands that grope and the press of strangers. You’re not doing this for them. 

Avoiding the VIP section, you glance around the dance floor. The figure you spotted before stalking right around the edges. You move your way closer, but he continues his path. Like a predator in the wild. He scans every body and swerves around obstacles. 

But you see him, now. The glasses, the downturn of his lips, the tilt of his shoulders. Mr. Pronge. 

You lose sight of Vera in the mass of bodies, but you keep dancing noncommittally. Anything for the chance to save yourself. You spin around, hoping to carve out some personal space. Just something to keep the others away from you. Dizzy, you notice the approaching figure. 

“What’re you doing here?” he asks. 

You meet his eye and try to smile through your shock. “Hi, Mr. Pronge.” You lift your hand in a small wave and keep your body moving. You glance over your shoulder, searching for Vera. 

“I asked a question,” he growls. 

He steps forward, you step to the side. He keeps advancing. And it’s like he’s herding you where he wants you. 

You reach the edge of the dance floor and his hand wraps around your bicep. Leading you away from the crowd and the crush. The volume drops lower and the relief it gives brings a genuine smile to your face. But it’s then you realize you’re pressed against the wall of a narrow, deserted hallway by the ice cream man. 

His brow raises, waiting for an answer. You nod and glance around the small space. Chest pressing to his. 

“My friend wanted to introduce me to someone,” you reply. Hands flexing at your sides. You wonder what you should do with them. Where you should place them. 

“Why?” 

“He might be able to get me a job.” You keep fidgeting, more nervous by the second with him in such close proximity. The moment dragging between the two of you. 

“No one in a place like this has good intentions,” he warns, gaze burning straight through you—was that disappointment or contempt. 

Your eyes drop from his in shame. “Thank you for the advice, Mr. Pronge, you’ve always been so kind to me. I should get back.” 

You try to move away, to escape, but he keeps you pinned in place. His chest expanding with his breath, the buttons of his shirt straining. His arms raise, finding this place to bracket your body, one by your waist, the other beside your head. Swallowing the spike of panic that threatens to grow into an all-consuming wave, you meet his eyes again. 

Something dark shines back at you. In the low light, his hunger finds you its prey. You freeze. Unsure of how to proceed. Balancing on a thin line. Still needing his charity. 

“You shouldn’t quite trust me either,” he whispers, leaning into your ear, arm muscles flexing. You swallow a whimper. He inhales a millimeter away from the skin of your throat and chuckles, dark and syrupy. Your stomach drops, a mix of apprehension and appetite. “Oh, princess, you have no idea what I could do to you.” 

Your tongue swipes over your lips. More thirsty than you’ve ever been in your life. You wait, heart pounding in your ribcage. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

And that’s it. All at once, he backs away. A scream echoes in the distance, above the cacophony of the club. Your head turns in curiosity. The music cuts and you turn back to the ice cream man, only to see him slipping out a side door and disappearing into the night. 

Thank you for sending this over, Siri! I had lots of fun! 💜

[precious1610]

When you are feeling completely depleted and like you can no longer adult, which CE!babe would you choose to take care of you and why? 🥺

Oh, who doesn't feel like that at least once a day when the alarm clock rings? But on the days when the feeling won't go away and just stays, you need someone to look after you. I know that feeling all too well. Adulthood is rubbish. I actually thought of my favourite daddy Lloyd straight away, but somehow he doesn't fit into this situation. He's just too determined and sure of himself to fully understand. But after some quick thinking and a little power struggle between a few more babes (it was close. Andy, Ari, Steve and Cole put up a fierce fight), there was a winner for me:

That moment when you walk in the door after a long day at the office and you feel like you have at least a hundred other things to do besides work, when work has already drained all the energy out of your body, weighs heavily on your shoulders and is written all over your face. Cole would see this immediately, take your bag from you and tell you to sit down on the sofa. He would order your favourite meal, hand you a glass (a big glass!) of your favourite wine, sit behind you and pull you close. You'd just cuddle and he'd turn on your favourite sitcom because he has no problem doing something just for you and of course he has all your favourites stored in his head. He would ask you what exactly the problem is and listen to you because you are definitely his priority. Then he would try to distract you with little stories about his plants and when he realises that you just can't calm down, even though you are actually completely exhausted, he would carry you into the bedroom bridal style, with a mischievous smile on his lips and say: "You know, I think I know exactly how we can calm your mind. Just be a good girl and I'll take care of you!" And he will. He'll pull so many orgasms out of your body you won't be able to speak his name or yours and eventually fall asleep very happy and exhausted (but very differently exhausted than when you came home).

I swear Cole may be a little creep but he's actually a man who will do anything for his girlfriend and he deserves a lot more credit than he gets! So JUST FOR COLE! He's just perfect for a job like this.

[grimeysociety]

Despite the way Shieldshock is what drew me into your orbit, my favorite story of yours is drag you to the shore. It just haunts me and I randomly think about it a lot lol. Perhaps because I love Andy so, and I believe Darcy truly could be such a great match for him. The kind of personality and love his tender heart needs and deserves 🥺😌❤️

P.S. Hope you’ve had a dose of much deserved joy and laughter today ❤️

SIRI 🥹❤️

[punemy-spotted]

Okay, can I unofficially ask-a-thon prompt you?! Is that allowed?! Lol I don’t want to break any rules or step on any toes 😅

So, I’d love to know:

Do you have a specific method that helps you overcome writer’s block?

What story, scene, or maybe specific character exchange that you wrote really kind of threw you for a loop? Maybe it went in the opposite direction that you planned or the characters rebelled and did what they wanted or something?

Sending you so much love and gratitude! ❤️

Yes! I think ask-a-thons are the greatest thing and I am certainly hoping it helps more writers feel engaged and grow friendships — @ask-a-thon deserves all the credit for inspiring me to spam y'all with their Sunday asks this week (and hopefully more in the future)! Thank you so much for sending this in!!

As always, I rambled forever so everything is under the cut.

Do you have a specific method that helps you overcome writer’s block?

I don't have a set method so much as I tend to use several methods to try and push me through writer's block, depending on (1) whether the method I'm using is working and (2) what the reason for the block is. Lately I've been feeling pretty emotionally and mentally burnt out, so a lot of what I'm doing is taking my time, focusing on my mental recovery, and picking up other crafts that bring my anxiety/agitation down to help me feel ready to write again. I've gotten back into crocheting in a big way, to the point where I've actually managed to make two queen-sized blankets in the past twelve months. When I do feel emotionally ready to write but am struggling with the words, I let music do a lot of the work for me. Sometimes I'll just put on a song to get the vibes for the scene I'm trying to write out and dance, or talk to my friends. A foolproof method for me (at least when someone is... available, I guess?) when I'm in this sort of state is to start gushing about the fic I'm writing — especially if I've written some of it out already, or have an outline and ideas I want to incorporate. Getting excited and seeing my friend/friends get excited with me is really really encouraging and helps loosen some of my self-doubt inhibitions that may block me from doing what I want to do because I am my own worst enemy. I think writing communities are essential for writers to help combat writer's block, especially communities centered around the act of writing itself. Multifandom spaces where I can learn from and encourage other writers who are incredibly different from me and have incredibly diverse interests and joys are — to me — some of the most helpful spaces I have been in to fall in love with writing and also be comfortable taking my own time to write. I think we can all agree that writing in an inherently shared hobby, but it is very difficult to feel comfortable sharing without a community to encourage you.

What story, scene, or maybe specific character exchange that you wrote really kind of threw you for a loop? Maybe it went in the opposite direction that you planned or the characters rebelled and did what they wanted or something?

Hahahaha, I'm bringing back Glory, Amen again because this fic. This demon of a fic, even in just the form of a oneshot, completely turned all the worldbuilding I had planned for the Valley upside-down. The Valley was supposed to be a full-dark series focusing on incredibly powerful ancient horrors and the means by which they sated their carnal hungers... and instead of Pastor Rogers being an ancient horror intent on eating away at the edge of this universe piece by piece, he is an ancient horror tamed into being a keeper of this world, if only for the sake of his Witch-Wife and the Witch-daughters who keep this place alive. From full dark to vindication and freedom, and I still have no idea what happened.

[navybrat817]

Happy hoelidays, sis! ❄️Just a little treat to brighten your day! ❤️

Warnings: Soft!dark Andy and Ari. Mob elements. Implied forced marriage. Dub con exhibitionism and oral sex (m receiving).

—

You let your mind wander as Andy and Ari discussed work.

It wasn't hard, you had no interest in their association, let alone the world of organized crime in general. You wished you had never become a part of it, but you couldn't do much about that now anyway.

All you could do, was let your mind drift and enjoy these few moments of peace because they were so rare these days.

As if the mere thought became a reality, Ari's next words broke through the forced zen of your mind.

"Your sweet little wife seems to be adjusting well."

Just like that, your attention returned to them, to yourself, naked and knelt between Andy's feet with his cock filling your mouth and teasing the back of your throat as you warmed him, like a good little wife.

"She's getting there," Andy rumbled, his big hand petting along your head. "Today's a good day, isn't that right, honey?"

He gave a rut of his hips that had you gagging, but you didn't recoil, you knew what happened when you tried to resist him in any way.

Instead you focused on breathing through your nose, blinking a fresh wave of tears down your cheeks as you stayed pliant and curled over his lap, a pretty, submissive little show for your husband and his associate.

"Such a good girl," Andy cooed, petting you some more. "We're almost done, sweetheart, and then I'll fill up that sweet belly of yours with my cum before giving you my cock next, how's that sound?"

Andy didn't wait for you to reply, he didn't expect you to, and you didn't. But you did feel a part of you curl up and die inside as he kept gently caressing your head and back, like you were some pretty, prized pet.

And really, these days? That's all that you were.

Sis! The way my mouth and legs are open. 🥵

Listen. I will somehow get used to my role as Andy's dutiful wife. I will. If he has to teach me, that's more than okay. I'm a fast learner. And I know he's so proud of me for keeping him warm. 🔥

And why do I think Ari is a bit envious? Not exactly of Andy and his pretty little wife, but what they represent? Maybe he wouldn't mind a little wife of his own to keep him warm. But unlike Andy, he doesn't mind a bit of a spitfire now and again. 😏

Happy Hoelidays to you! Love and thanks! ❤️

[paperweight91]

Chelsea, I have a very important question for you: do you think Lloyd prefers you warm his cock with your mouth or your cunt? A hoe needs to know!

Also his eyelashes are so obscene 😩

I’m sorry I was distracted…what was the question?!?!

Right, so cockwarming I feel like is Lloyd’s favourite activity.

Generally he’s not too bothered which hole he gets as long as it’s warm and ready. Ya know?

Buuuut there are times when he has a preference and I’m going to say it’s mouth.

Why? Well you didn’t ask but I’m going to tell you anyways 🤣

it’s the tears for him, how you work yourself up waiting for him to give you permission to move. The fact that he can watch your eyes glaze over as he pets your head. It’s the dazed look you get and watching the drool slip from around his cock.

But most importantly, when he’s had his fill of warming, and he pulls himself free he can pull you on his chest and sink into your sweet tight heat and just take you.

Thank you for this wonderful hoe thought! I will be busy for the next little bit, no one ask questions!

[thezombieprostitute]

If you had to swap a babe and Reader in the Garbage Men verse, who would you pick and why?

If I'm only allowed to switch up current couples and stories, I think I'd make Nick Fowler the Mob Boss who falls for DC, a witness against one of his enemies. Nick can be cold and calculating, intelligent in a lot of ways. She is incredibly book-smart, but a pushover who just wants to be nice. He doesn't bother keeping her in a safe-house. There's no safer place than his own home. He finds himself drawn to her warmth and kindness.

Mace would take more of a protective-big-brother kind of role. They were close friends and he doesn't want her mixed up in Family business that could get her in trouble.

+++++

If I can throw in a different babe that's already part of the stories, I kinda want to pair up Hal Carter and Lady. Nick is overwhelmed with work so he asks Hal to go to the City Clerk's office instead but tells him, "Make sure you ask for Lady. She's the best at helping."

Hal meets her and, of course, starts up his flirty behaviour and she smiles along with it. She never makes him feel bad for being a flirt, needing to ask more questions, or being a bit of a himbo. He appreciates that she's so accepting of his personality and she appreciates that he's genuinely a good guy who makes her feel pretty. He never pokes fun at her age or even glances at the younger girls when he's talking with her.

Hal starts volunteering to go to the City Clerk's office in place of Nick and he doesn't object. It's one less place he has to fit into his itinerary. Hal likes spending as much time with Lady as he can with each visit. She does tell him he needs to be careful because she is at work so he asks her out. She agrees and it ends up being the start of a fun, loving relationship built on mutual respect, trust and care.

[foxgloveprincess]

In an AU verse of AWA, which two babes could you see falling for and fighting over the same Reader? And who would get her in the end? 🫠

Oh, Siri. I have two different thots on this. First of all, the AU. There’s no meetings, no ‘friendships’ or network. This is before it all starts. Just men with some dark proclivities. Second, they’re still the men we know and love with all the quirks we adore. And all the same tastes. Which brings me to two possible scenarios, under the cut.

You can probably guess one of the pairs, so we’ll start with the other.

Warnings: Dark (Soft Dark) Themes, Kidnapping, Stalking, etc., No Editing. Minors do not interact (18+).

You’re just going along with your best friend’s plans—attending some hoity-toity charity gala

You’re not even rich, you’re just another charity case in a pretty dress

But who else is attending, why Ransom Drysdale and Lloyd Hansen

You catch Lloyd’s eye when you accidentally bump into him

You catch Ransom’s when he spots the rope burn under your sleeves

They find you completely charming and end up following you around the banquet hall at different times throughout the evening, engaging in conversation and flirting

And wouldn’t you know, you don’t notice either of them following you out when you slink away

They certainly notice each other, though

And from that point, it’s like the space race

Each of them trying to scramble to get things in place and steal you away

Bumping into you in your daily life until you start getting suspicious

Both of them are devious and cunning and willing to do whatever it takes

But it’s Lloyd who gets you

Because he’s ruthless and a little reckless

He strikes when he sees the opportunity while Ransom’s still planning

But it’s okay, after you settle down and start enjoying the finer things in life (like Lloyd’s insatiable hunger for you), maybe he’d be willing to share—for a price ����

OR

(This is the vastly more self-indulgent scenario)

I just couldn’t not—you know they’d have eyes for the same girl

Both of them with their little white knight kind of ways and their enjoyment of a nice girl in the need of some spoiling

Ari’s still your dad’s best friend and he takes you out all the time when you need a night off

Even takes you to the park some Saturdays to get some fresh air before taking you somewhere else special

Which is where he notices the ice cream man

The way Mr. Freezy stares at you each week and hands over your ice cream, the glint in his eye and the way you thank him so sweetly

You practically skip back to Ari and the two men lock eyes

There’s a predatory recognition between them

And Freezy’s ready to fight for you, to claw you away from Ari

They have an old-fashioned sit down

Both of them bring their guns (and maybe a knife or two or a vial of poison)

But we all know and love Ari, what he’s willing to do for his girl

And we know he likes to watch—so sharing isn’t off the table for him 🫣

Freezy’s not into it at first, until Ari starts talking about how he’s already begun to mould you to his liking—how well your adapting and how eager you are to please

He shows some pictures of you and Ari on your excursions, and Freezy’s hooked

Freezy takes you, cause he’s the stranger and can take the heat off Ari

But they keep you in Ari’s cabin with plenty of room for three

With both of them working together, it’s much easier to get you compliant

You already trust Ari and with him rounding off Freezy’s harsher edges, you always know where you stand

Right between your two daddies, protected and loved 🥰🫠

Ok. Ok. I’m cool, it’s cool. Siri, what have you done???? I’m ruined. 🥰😩

This was super fun. I loved exploring this thought and figuring out how things might play out. 💜 Thank you for sending it in!

Read Attic Wives Anonymous Here

[beyondthefold]

Thank you so much for blessing us with your GIFts 😍 This is the kind of eye candy I’m here for 🤌🏻❤️🙏🏻

Awww...thank you so much for your kind words, I really appreciate the support! It's my pleasure to share these gifs! ❤️

[grimeysociety]

Happy birthday!! 🥳🎈🎉❤️ I hope your day was filled with so many moments of joy and love and I’m wishing you the most magical, peaceful year ahead!

Thank you Siri! 🥰

[worksby-d]

Happy birthday, lovely! 🥳❤️🎉 Hope your day has been extra special! Please accept a floofy GIFt from me to you:

thank you sweet siri 🥺💕 i happily and eagerly accept your GIFt 🤲

[biteofcherry]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Steve + “Are you trying to hide from me?”

Thank you for sending the Hoe Fairy my way, through all the trials and dangers of time zones 😆💖

Grateful for it, I wrote something slightly longer than a drabble? Oops.

I'm creating a new dark-ish universe here, so brace yourselves.

New World Order

soft dark!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: After the snap and the breaking of the Avengers the world has turned into a darker place than it already was. Being under Steve Rogers protection should be your beacon of light, right? So why does it sometimes feel as if you're caught in a sticky web?

warnings: semi dystopian universe; soft dark Steve Rogers; manipulation; sprinkle of gaslighting; economical/situational power imbalance; dub-con; smidge of breeding kink; sex (p in v);

word count: 3k

Main Masterlist

A small creak startled you. Your body tensed and jerked, the jars in your arms almost falling to the floor. You held your breath, tightening your hold on the precious cargo.

The sound came from the other room, the one anyone from the compound could’ve walked into, so it shouldn’t scare you. Not when you made sure to cover any tracks leading to this special, secret unit, which you’ve discovered a few days ago. 

Slowly, careful not to make any sound that might alert whoever was roaming out there, you put the jars down on the shelf. One by one. Gently. You kept your breath shallow as you did, keeping your movements to the minimal. Then you stayed still, counting down seconds in your head and listening for any sounds from outside. 

As one minute passed into another, then another, until it was seven minutes, then eight, you began to relax slightly. 

No further sounds, steps, nor voices came. You assumed they were gone, whoever it’s been. 

With a little huff of breath, you turned around. The nose of your boot bumped into the box of supplies you sneaked inside. It made little to no noise, but it was enough for the domino to fall down completely.

Something clanked on the other side of the wall. Then the hidden passage in the wall opened. 

Bright daylight filtered through and the broad, dark silhouette filled nearly the entirety of the doorway. 

You lifted your hand to shield your eyes from the sudden burst of light, letting out a small squeak as you curled inwardly. It took you a mere second to recognize who caught you and while your heart eased at the realisation, there was still a part of you that feared the outcome.

“I was wondering what kind of mouse has been hiding in the walls,” came his soft, deep voice. “Turns out it’s my own little scrapper.” 

Captain Rogers walked in. Despite wearing heavy boots he still managed to move quietly. 

The wall closed automatically after him, leaving the two of you in a small room with light fixtures casting pleasant, but artificial glow from the ceiling. 

“Are you trying to hide from me?” His lips curled in a lopsided smile, but the way he slightly tilted his head made you aware that he wouldn’t like it, if you said yes. 

“Of course not,” you let out a nervous laugh, gripping the edge of the counter behind you. 

“Not from you, Steve.” Nervousness still buzzed inside you, spiking as he neared closer and closer. 

Steve Rogers, Captain America, could be a scary motherfucker, if he wanted to. Usually, however, it was reserved for anyone trying to harm people he protected. Or if his subordinates broke his rules in any way. 

He may not be the golden boy you remembered from the very few, rare press conferences and pap photos from a decade before. Too much has happened, since he was the poster of glorified values the government tried to sell. 

First, they stripped him of the crystal areola they put themselves on him. Named him a fugitive and a traitor, for wanting to protect his best friend and fight for justice. 

His other colleagues have turned away from him, leading to breaking of the Avengers formation, which was supposed to protect the people.

Then, when the ultimate threat appeared, the remaining politicians blamed Steve and the other heroes for being unable to defeat Thanos. Tony Stark never returned. So many others have dispersed into dust. For a few years - as the world around you spiralled into dystopian nightmare - phantom governments have been using Captain America and other Avengers as the arguments for why so many things were failing.

Living became hard. Well, even harder than it used to be. People turned jaded and distrustful, so very few still tried to show each other support. Unable to count on governmental help, people have started forming their own little groups. Little communities that took care of each other, but were very wary of anyone else. 

You met Steve when you shyly walked into one of the support groups he was leading. You’ve seen posters inviting people to the meetings, but for quite a long time you stayed away from them, because Captain America or not, these groups always meant selling your soul in some way. 

Steve lured you in with his patience and soft voice, but was firm in pointing out that if you’d like to take some of the provisions back home, or needed aid, you had to do some labour in return. 

You weren’t opposed to that, but you were wary. Still, you agreed. 

Each task seemed more and more important, or that’s what you told yourself, because with each you’ve somehow gotten to work closer and closer to the Captain himself. 

You worked dutifully, which was something Steve didn’t omit to praise you for on a few occasions. Which perhaps was the reason why he assigned you to a team that so often worked closely with him. 

As much as it filled your chest with warmth, your gut tightened each time he got a little closer.

And he always got closer. 

You always sensed his gaze on you. Felt your heart jumping whenever he grazed his fingers along your arm, in a seemingly innocent, sweet gesture. But there was something about his attention, about Steve himself, that made you feel uneasy.

He was charismatic, but also less lenient. 

Caring, but didn’t give second chances. 

Patient, but often merciless in his decisions. 

He was still Captain America, but bitter and darker. Worn-out and dirty, like his suit, with the trace of a star that used to shine hope to those who saw it. Now that faith trailed with darkness. 

When Steve approached you one evening, as your team was scavenging the territory the Captain and his Avengers have liberated from under the influence of bloodthirsty gangs, you felt that quickened pulse and whispers of self-preservation instinct telling you to be wary.

He said that he noticed you watching him. Which rendered you speechless for a moment. If anything, you always caught him looking your way. 

Did he really think you were the one checking him out? Was it why your gazes met every time?

You stuttered with your response, not quite knowing how to explain yourself. Steve offered you that disarming, comforting smile. He touched your hand. Slipped his fingers between yours, ever so slowly rubbing the pad of his index finger between two of yours. 

Such a small, meaningless gesture, but something about it had your cunt clenching in response, as if he was insinuating he wanted to rub you somewhere else. 

Before you managed to explain the situation, Steve turned the tables on you once again. He leaned in and confessed that he missed intimate touch, as well. That it was understandable and he felt honoured you would give him your attention.

Then he simply walked away, joining Natasha to make further decisions regarding the operation; leaving you dizzy with confusion and conflicting emotions. 

Was he right? Were you subconsciously seeking out his attention? Was your sense of unease in his proximity provoked by your attraction to him?

Because Steve Rogers was a very handsome man. From the soft strands of hair he had grown a little longer, to the way his broad chest tapered into narrow hips and possibly the sexiest ass you’ve ever seen. 

From that moment, the Captain often approached you, smiled at you, and touched you however briefly. The pounding of your heart increased each time, your thoughts still clouded. 

When he caressed your cheek one time, while having just returned all dirtied and splattered with blood from a mission abroad, your breath stuttered. He asked you to help him out with patching some bruises and you didn’t find the strength in you to deny a request from a wounded man. Captain America at that. 

He took you to his quarters. At Steve’s command, the AI closed the door after you. Your fingers trembled as Steve guided you how to unzip and take off his suit (since his shoulder throbbed so hard, he seemingly couldn’t do it himself). 

Steve’s fair skin was indeed marred with bruises and a few cuts, which you cleaned and patched. In response to your breathless “I better leave” after you were done, Steve slid his big hands onto your hips and softly asked you to stay. 

Perhaps it’s been too long since you kissed anyone. Or maybe his grip on you tightened enough for the fear of repercussions freezing you in place. 

With a tiny whimper, you gave in to his demanding lips and wandering hands. Despite your brain screaming at you to run away, your heart rate accelerated with pleasure, quickly drowning out the fear.

Steve had you sinking down on his thick cock right there, while he still sat in the chair and his suit was barely pushed past his hips. He groaned praises at how good you felt; how hot it was to feel your tight cunt stretching around him; how sexy you sounded struggling to take it all.

Even with some of your brain cells fighting against it, your whole body surrendered to Steve and the pleasure he drew out of you over and over again. 

Maybe he was right all along and you were starved for intimate contact. 

Maybe you were choosing to let him take you, so he wouldn’t hurt you or your family in any way. 

Later, as you laid in Steve’s arms, you debated with yourself how good it felt to be held and protected, and that maybe it was worth following Steve’s subtle commands. 

He took you again in the morning. On your side, sliding into your sore pusy from behind. When you hissed that it hurt, Steve slowed down, but didn’t stop. He distracted you by arousing other parts of your body - rolling and pinching your nipples, sliding his fingers between your lips and fucking your moth with them, using his wet digits to rub your clit. 

Both of you returned to your duties afterwards, but in the evening Steve simply wrapped an arm around you and greeted you with a kiss on your temple. Then guided you back to his quarters.

He talked to you about everything, asked about your past, as well simply about your day. 

But not once did he ask, if you wanted to have sex with him. 

As the days passed, the less brave and determined you were to reject him. Especially not after Steve started coming over to your quarters, to meet your parents and play this whole thing, as if you really were a couple.

So if he was this sweet and supportive, why did you still fear displeasing him in any way? 

“I mean I’m not hiding at all.” Your speech quickened slightly, as you explained your actions. “I may have hoped no one would find this spot that quickly. I would tell you about it, I was going to. But first I needed to, um, I wanted to-”

“Easy, honey.” Steve cupped your cheek.

He ran his thumb along your lip, cooing at you softly. 

He didn’t look angry, nor suspicious. Which lessened your worries. 

“So you found one of Tony’s panic rooms.” Steve took a quick look around. “Not many people know about their existence. Not many can find them.”

“It was actually an accident,” you laughed at that, remembering how you stumbled when changing light bulbs in a weird fixture in the main lounge room and instead of breaking the mirror on the wall the pressure of your fall activated sensor in the wall, opening the passage to this room. 

You told Steve the story, watching mirth form crinkles around his eyes. He kissed your forehead softly, before pulling away. Not enough to leave much space between your bodies. 

“And why are you storing provisions here?” He glanced at the jars and cans you stacked on the few shelves. 

“Just in case. We have a storage and everything is rationed generously, but-” your gaze dropped as you mumbled- “somemayhavebeenstolen.”

“What was that?” Steve’s tone chilled and you felt the hair on your nape standing to attention. 

With two fingers, he tilted your chin up. Blue eyes bore into yours, a Captain’s command in them snapped you into obedience without an order falling from his lips. 

“I think I’ve noticed someone sneaking out some portions. Often.” You admitted. “I wanted to make sure we wouldn’t suffer much loss, in case that person continued to steal.”

“Why haven’t you reported it?” Steve frowned, his hold on your chin turning into an unpleasant pinch. 

“Because the person I should report to first, is the one who takes it.” You also tried to convince yourself that maybe Walker simply was giving it away to someone in need. 

“You could’ve told me.” Steve pointed out, his frown deepening in displeasure. 

“But you always talk about the importance of chain of command,” you blurted out.

Which actually surprised Steve. His eyebrows arched up and then his disapproval was shifting into amused satisfaction once again.

“You’re so dutiful, honey.” Steve’s grin made you gulp nervously. 

His gaze slowly trailed down. When it returned to your face there was a possessive glint in the blue irises. A hot jolt stroke down your spine, pooling in your lower belly with heat in preparation for what was to come.

Because even if your lips wanted to part on a pitiful No, you knew Steve would take anyway. And he’d make sure your body was on board with his desires. 

“Why don’t you continue your impeccable service for your Captain, huh?” Steve dragged the zipper of your jacket down. 

It was butter soft brown leather; once belonging to Steve, but since it was too big on you, he graciously encouraged you to cut and sew it, so it fit you better. 

Steve parted the sides of the jacket, exposing your chest. One move was enough to yank down the stretchy top you had underneath. Your breasts spilled out and you clenched your fingers on the edge of the counter, forcing yourself not to cover yourself, even though you felt shy. 

Steve cupped your breasts with his hands; squeezed them and kneaded gently. The coarse fabric of his fingerless gloves provided additional sensation. He rolled one nipple under his thumb; pinched the other. His mouth swallowed each little moan of yours. 

He drew out a whine out of you as he tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, at the same time unzipping your jeans. Steve knelt down to take off one of your shoes and pull your leg free from the pant leg. Enough to have you spread for him as wide as he wanted. 

“Umm-” you swallowed hard as Steve stretched to his full height. 

He was so much bigger than you. So much stronger. Sometimes, when he had you in his arms, it truly made you feel safe. Other times it scared you; made you quickly comply. 

Steve picked you up so easily, sitting you on the narrow counter and standing between your legs. 

“I don’t have any more pills,” you revealed. “Contraceptives, I mean. Bruce said it will take a few weeks for the production to be finished, after that one ingredient turned out to be spoiled.”

Steve met your eyes. He listened to what you were saying, nodding his head intently as you spoke, but still unzipped his suit and freed his cock. 

You couldn’t help it, your gaze flicked down. Seeing it almost daily didn’t diminish the awe of the cock a primal part of your brain declared perfect. Your pussy clenched, growing wetter in preparation for what was inevitable. 

Steve’s hand closed around his girth and he gave a few pumps before guiding the angry-red tip into your hole. 

He slid inside with a groan. Your own choked cry responding. 

When he met slight resistance due to your position, Steve hooked his arms beneath your knees and pulled your legs upwards. Your ass tilted and your upper body angled backwards. It allowed him to sink fully in, until you felt that unpleasant pressure against your cervix and his balls met your buttocks. 

Then, as he bottomed out in your unprotected pussy, Steve regarded your words.

“Slight inconvenience. But we’re skilled in adjusting to new situations and challenges.” He rested his forehead against yours; his voice growing more raspy and breathless. “If fate wants us to have a child, then we will rise to that blessing as well.” 

He rocked his hips into you, his pelvis grazing your clit. You squeaked, bracing your hands on Steve’s shoulders. 

“Fuck, honey.” Steve withdrew a few inches then slowly thrust back in. “Your sweet cunt is so tight and wet for me.” 

It was tight, because he hadn’t prepared you thoroughly - sometimes it was a blessing, because there were other times when Steve was so focused on making you soaked that he turned you into an overstimulated mess. 

Also because his dick was so fucking thick. 

“My perfect pussy. Isn’t it?” Each stroke was a purposeful, unrushed torment, so that you felt those inches penetrating you. Owning you. 

“Y-yes, Steve. It’s yours,” you mewled when he poked your cervix again. 

“It was made to be filled, honey.” Steve’s pace started increasing. “Its purpose is to take my cock and milk every last drop of my cum, until your womb swells with it.”

There were protesting voices in your head, demanding that you shake your head no and that you tell him you didn’t want to get pregnant. But they never made it past the barrier of voices supplying that you always dreamed of having a family and that Steve would take good care of you. 

Even if the objections somehow made it onto your tongue, the moans and cries Steve was eliciting with each thrust and filthy word deformed them into agreement. 

“That’s it, honey. Taking your Captain so well. Going to take all my cum and thank me for it.”